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gh0stswh0re · 1 year

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simon "ghost" riley x virgin reader, pt1

warnings: loss of virginity, alcohol usage, implied f! masturbation, imagined public humiliation, inappropriate relationship with a superior, soap throws up in the corner, author definitely had some better moments but it izzz what it izzz, word count: 2,2k

a/n: happy to announce i finished all five fics, this just happened to be the first one i edited, so enjoy <33 posting two parts cuz i like literarily edging y'all

...

you have no idea how it even started – you were just talking, chatting, killing some time. sure, his fingers brushed against yours as he poured you another drink, sweet and savory with a musky scent, and you nearly dropped the glass. "not holding your liquor so well now, are you, dove?" he chuckled at your efforts of hiding the playful tone of blushy red that painted your cheeks, as he placed the bottle down. sure, soft warmth gathered around his irises, as his eyes bore into yours and you smiled, locking the gaze - your hand quickly covering your lips, hiding the grin that crept by the corners of them. "don't-" he remarked, "you look gorgeous". sure, he shot up a deadly glance at soap when he walked over, inviting the lieutenant to join the group of men drinking at the bar top – he spoke over you, his voice clumsy and slurred. "sergeant-" it was a firm warning, simon's voice low and hoarse, the unwelcoming tone a total opposite of how he spoke with you not even a minute prior. despite being clearly intoxicated, johnny wasn't tone deaf – he stuttered a quick response, alongside an annoyed muffle of "whatever, lt." sure, he moved even closer to you, as you started speaking again – picking the conversation back up as if you were never rudely interrupted. patches of goosebumps threatened to cover the surface of your forearm as he placed his hand against it – fingertips mischievously dancing on the skin. sure, your cheeks burned red as a shy stutter appeared in your voice – messing with the flow of your sentences – and you realized the new sniper tactic you made up with price isn't the hottest topic of the evening.

but it still happened all so fast – the next few words dying in the back of your throat, as his lips brushed against yours, tentatively, the dizzying taste of the harsh liquor spreading throughout your mouth as he dipped his hot tongue inside – slipping past your lips, completely silencing you. his hands were on you in a moment, fingers entangled in your hair – tilting your head to the side, allowing him to deepen the kiss, as you were grabbing handfuls of his jacket.

he nudged his nose against yours, as he pulled back – his lungs burning, begging for oxygen, but you lured him right back into your touch – nobody's ever kissed you like this before and you craved it. sure, you got your moment of butterflies and shy whispers of ''are you sure?'', anxious hands stilled by either side, with lots of teeth bumping – your own perfect low-budget teen movie moment, the one you'd giggle with your friends about – but this, this was different – both sacred and profane, nasty and primal. it weakened your knees, and made your hands tremble, as you tasted the intimacy of the shared breath – it also lit up a desire deep within your core, arousal pooling down your stomach, tingling inside your already dripping cunt – a feeling you weren't yet familiar with. it silenced all the unpleasant noises of the stinky bar – the shitty music, the offbeat singing, the cynical laugh of every idiot that tried his hardest to impress, that fucker soap puking in the corner.

for a moment – just for a split, short moment some sense got to you, and the realization hit – the admiration for your lieutenant, your superior, grew into dark, perverted lust and it was now set on the display for everyone to see. vulnerability spread through your body, as adrenaline mixed with desire ran through your veins – you already felt so naked and just urged him to get out already.

his height is undoubtedly a textbook definition of an advantage – it's intimidating, fear-inducing, leaving his opponents quivering as lumps bob in their throats and fear seeps through their bones. and now, as he holds you in his arms, with your legs closed around his waist, as he slams a door open without ever needing to drop you down on the floor – he feels utter pride in his strength.

oh, and how he simply adores the way he towers over your fragile, petite frame – nearly scared of breaking you in two, as he presses himself against you, physically kicking the air out of your chest and swallowing your guttural cries - his calloused hand gently applies pressure, toying with your cunt through your soaked panties, his fingertips endowed with curiosity – embarrassment is eating away at you, as the lewd, wet noises of skin-on-skin fill the room, your cries echoing off the thin walls – 50/50 there's going to be a noise complaint waiting for you at the front desk in the morning.

he never stops his merciless assault, except for when he gently tugs on your bottom lip, sucking on the red, swollen flesh. "simon-" he hums into the kiss, a needy hand grabbing at your chest, cupping your breasts through the thin fabric of your button-up shirt, his fingers ghosting over your hardened nipples; electric waves of pleasure shooting down your spine as you arch your back into his touch. "sim-" his movements grow faster, quicker, and more desperate each second, as his impatience grows – he's forced his entire hand in your underwear, his palm laying flat against your wet folds as two of his thick digits tease the slit, making you clench over nothingness.

placing both hands on his chest, you slightly pushed him away as you whispered his name – he backed off immediately as if the touch of your skin stung his hand. "shit, i-" he started apologizing, his heart sank deep in his chest – has he misread the situation? has he just forced himself onto you? has he-

placing your right hand on his cheek, fingertips brushing over the skin, caressing it. "simon, i haven't done this before" your unsure voice did nothing to hide the anxiety which filled your mind, as every word barely left your lips – making the entire sentence sound like a question. "what? fucked in a hotel room? it ain't even that dirty, you fancy th-" gods, he was oblivious and you were just about to die – having to admit that you were, in fact, a virgin – never touched or fucked by a man. "no, simon, i haven't done this-" you shut your eyes closed, so tightly you saw white stars sparking in the blackness of your vision, a hand covering your expression of embarrassment, and humiliation – you were just about to get down and dirty with your lieutenant, after months of delicious teasing and endlessly torturous flirting and now was your time to confess? to a man - towering above you, completely shielding you from the outside world – whose hand was glistening wet from your sweet arousal – a pathetic proof of how your cunt clenched around him, taking him in despite him barely inserting the very tips of his fingers. he just wanted to get drunk and nasty, blow off some steam, fuck somebody's brains out and pretend like it never happened in the morning- shit, you could already hear the rumors awaiting you back at the base – "you heard what happened?" "yeah, she fucked lieutenant riley" "no no, not just that-" – that was, of course, if you were to remain in the position – if you were to find a good enough excuse or a decent piece of proof as to why the rumors aren't true – you are a good soldier, fit for the army, and above all aware that having inappropriate relations with your superiors is, well, not appropriate.

"oh-" his response hung in the air, which became heavy and your lungs might have just collapsed under the pressure – but it, at least, brought you back to reality, breaking your train of thought that threatened to derail, killing all the passengers onboard. "oh"

he'd sat you on his lap, one hand resting on the curve of your hip as the other laid flat against your naked chest, fingers carefully kneading the soft flesh – by this point, he already undressed you – carefully, slowly as he studied your expressions with each movement he made; as he popped two buttons of your shirt open, instructing you to do the next one as his sharp gaze pierced through you. as he buckled his hips forward, readjusting his position into a more comfortable one, completely ignoring the growing bulge inside his pants – right now, all that mattered was the pretty girl in front of him, and how she unknowingly rolled her perfect little ass against him, driving him rabid with anticipation. fuck, he'd tell you how long he's been waiting for this, but he's utterly scared he'd make a fool of himself – it would come out cheesy and cliche, no matter how hard he'd try or how many times he'd repeat the dialogue in his head – maybe it would clear your head up, make you realize he's undeserving of this, of you; you'd get up, picking your clothes up and taking them with you, leaving him alone – the taste of you lingering inside his mouth, his heart aching and his dick twitching. he'd dread the idea of waking up the next morning – the monstrous hangover hitting him, wrecking his insides as pain crushed his temples – the worst part? - having to make himself presentable, half–decent for all the eyes that'd stare at him, as whispers shared between bitter mouths and curious ears – "ya heard what happened?" "yeah, he tried to fuck the new girl – heard he couldn't even get it up"

"c'mon, be a good girl 'n show me what you want me t' do" his ridiculously big, and ridiculously intimidating hand was sprawled across your chest – feeling your heartbeat on the tips of his fingers he knew you were anxious – a bit eager too, perhaps? he took your right hand, placing it on the top of his. he quickly looked you up and down – peculiar eyes urging you to move.

which you did – slowly gliding his palm down your stomach, his unmoving fingers fondling your flushed skin – suddenly, you chuckled – bubbly, brightly, all those nice things that make him melt on the inside – you are ticklish? what a pleasant surprise – one he'll certainly make a mental note of. you kept moving lower and lower, uncertainty and hesitation growing visible the closer you got to your –

"such a good fucking slut already" he blurted the words out, his ability to think clearly has long been gone - his brain function reduced down to nothing but shortcuts. feeling the words in your cunt long before your mind would process them, you felt the wetness dripping down your thigh, pooling onto his pants.

you'd yelp at the sudden contact of his index fingers grazing your clit – "you liked that, birdie?" you nodded, silently agreeing as you steadied yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders. repeating the movement, he placed his thumb flat against the swollen, warm numb, dragging out small, slow circles – strangled cries emmited from your vocal cords, as pleasure bloomed deep inside your abdomen, and pure, ecstatic bliss ripped through your core. "feels nice, huh?'' he cooed, watching you take your bottom lip between your teeth – threatening to burst a blood vessel – right before he gripped at your waist, risking to bruise the delicate skin.

it didn't take long for you to cum – barely a minute, surely it couldn't be two. of course, you had touched yourself before – many nights while on duty, mostly thinking of him – how big his frame was as he stood behind your back, carefully examining each step of you putting your gun back together – how firm his voice was, making his orders loud and clear for everyone to hear. how he always stood his ground – even if it meant getting shot at, even if it meant taking a smoke bomb directly in his face – there was hardly anything he wouldn't do to keep his men, and you, safe. you knew, in the depths of your heart and soul, that you weren't supposed to feel that way, but on nights like those; it was hard to keep your thoughts from racing. though, you'd barely dare to softly whisper his name as the orgasm washed over you, let alone dream your lieutenant, the man in the command of your squad, would ever be the one to take your virginity.

yet here you were – cheeks flushed red, chest heavy as you panted for air, a thin layer of sweat glimmering on your forehead, your body collapsed - turned into mush, your muscles stiff as you felt your heartbeat pulsating in every part of your body. mostly feeling pissed that nobody ever told you that being tired could feel this damn good – that this is what you've been craving each and every one of those nights – that the way your fingers fit inside your pussy was simply pitiful compared to his – leaving you undone, and aching in seconds.

sitting up straight, your hands would start to roam – starvingly grabbing at his erection. "getting eager, are we?" he'd taunt you and you'd nod, silently agreeing. you'd slowly slip away from his touch, down onto your knees, gently pushing his thighs apart. he'd lay his back, exhaling with a low, breathy groan, as you worked on the zipper. "i ain't having you doing this, not the first time" he'd stop you, tightly grabbing your wrist.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #cod #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #cod ghost #ghost headcanons #simon riley headcanons #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ns/fw #smut #cod smut

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odessastone · 2 months

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NEW LIFEWEAVER AND SYMMETRA LORE BITS FROM "REBUILDING RUINS"

So I got my copy of Heroes Ascendant today and THERE WERE SO MANY GOOD LITTLE MOMENTS IN THIS STORY I MUST gush I MUST

So here are some new bits of Symmetra and Lifeweaver lore that we got! I bolded my personal favorite ones. 😚

(spoilers!)

Satya and Niran "grew up together" as friends, so they were friends in childhood too, not just at a teen or university age.

Apparently when Satya would get overstimulated and need recovery time, Niran would keep people away from their room and tell them she was sick so she didn't have to face anyone 😭

He also used to hang out and watch her practice her dancing for hours on end, without ever getting tired of it.

Satya considered (possibly still considers) Niran her closest friend.

Niran is late to everything (CALLED this one). He's even late for their meeting LOL

"He looked good. Satya almost wished he didn't." Bits like this are going to feed my Symweaver ass for YEARS

Satya is (still) extremely hurt by Niran leaving all those years ago, and perceives it as him having left her, not just Vishkar. She still misses him dearly, even though they've been apart for eleven years.

Speaking of which, being apart for eleven years means Niran was twenty when he left the Academy. For all you fellow fic authors out there 😊

Satya's autism is stated, full-out, no dancing around it or talking about being on "the spectrum". They flat out say "her autism" in a sentence. Cool!

One of Niran's first questions upon reconnecting with Satya is if Vishkar is mistreating her, if she needs help. Of course she denies this, but...

Niran can read Satya's emotions without her saying them, and even while thinking she's hiding them 😭 Several times throughout the story she's surprised because he cuts right through her stoic bullshit and gets right to how she feels about something.

The Architech Academy was really overwhelming for Satya, and it sounds like they made no effort to accommodate her needs. Unsurprising, considering they didn't accommodate Niran's, either.

Vishkar fiercely discouraged her from stimming, instilling in her a fear of looking "immature, or distracted, or rude, or strange".

She gave a speech at graduation, then had to spend a full week in bed afterward to recover from all the stress. And there was no Niran to guard her by then ☹

Even now, she finds many things about Vishkar overstimulating and uncomfortable, such as her uniform's fabric, and her living quarters.

Satya called Niran "Bua" way back when, possibly the first person to use the nickname for him. Partway through the story the narration (from Satya's POV) actually switches to calling him that, which is cute.

The Arcology seems to have uh, basically no real protection against attacks... Null Sector just shows up on a train and starts blasting lol. This is something I address in my fic The Light You Deserve, so it was kinda funny to see that I was right in predicting that.

She feels comfortable enough around Niran by the end to stim around him without realizing it (apparently she taps her fingers together and twirls her hands in circles, I guess kind of like flapping). She immediately stops and is embarrassed when he points it out, but Niran encourages her instead. She then uncertainly stims in front of him, growing more relaxed and confident as she lets herself do so (this had to be my favorite part of the story).

Toward the end they double down on Satya's belief that she can change Vishkar from the inside (girl....) but then at the VERY end, Niran suggests she look more into the founder of Vishkar and his ideals, and then says that "The Arcology will be delighted to have you". SHE MIGHT DEFECT TO THE ARCOLOGY IN CANON AND BE WITH NIRAN HHHHH AAAA sorry this was supposed to be an unbiased list I'm cool I'm cool

AAAAAA I'M NOT COOL I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

THIS WAS EVERYTHING I COULD HAVE WANTED IN A STORY BETWEEN THEM okay minus the random Null Sector attack tbh that was weird

Anyway the very last line says that Satya now has "whenever she needed it, a friend to return to". So they're definitely gonna interact more going forward!!

#overwatch #lifeweaver #niran pruksamanee #symmetra #satya vaswani #overwatch heroes ascendant #overwatch spoilers

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sarahkrolokfan · 8 months

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I hate fanon-ization of Lily, James, Regulus and Barty (Evan, Dorcas, Marlene etc. are literally only mentioned in the books, there is nothing to mis-characterize)

Lily is side-lined for a non-existent, non-sensical ship (yeah, I hate jegulus), her Muggle origin is overlooked even though it played a MAJOR role in her life (heck the entire Marauders era takes place during the war against a wizard-supremacist, Muggle-hater and his racist followers). Her relationship with Snape and how his words and newly found ideologies affected is completely overlooked when he was her only magical friend during her entire childhood. Her relationship to her son? (yk, that one thing that set the entire series in motion...) - pfft, don't be silly, she is just a surrogate to James and Regulus.

James is portrayed as a ray of sunshine, good boy whose biggest sin was being a bit sarcastic. No, he WAS an arrogant asshole who mercilessly bullied another student simply for his own enjoyment. Yet he was also incredibly loyal man who didn't hesitate to share his home with his friend after he ran away from home and who grew out of his arrogant phase and changed himself for better because of a woman he loved (loved so much he died protecting her and their son later).

Regulus is portrayed as an edgy yet kind-hearted little aristocrat boy whose parents forced him into being a Death Eater - no, he wasn't pressured into becoming anything, Regulus for the longest part of his life WAS a Voldemort supporter. He collected newspaper articles about Voldemort, he talked to Kreacher about how great Voldemort is and how great his ideas were - yes, he realized later he was wrong but it doesn't suddenly mean he was pressured into anything.

Barty is portrayed as a silly little babygirl who has an IQ of goldfish. No, he was one of the smartest characters with multiple talents but was also a mentaly-unstable young man (Azkaban/Dementors have horrific influence on everyone but while other Death Eaters managed to last 10+ years there he was already on his death-bed in a year and started to scream for him mother the same day he was brought in) who went completely insane and evil by the end and craved for father figure so deeply he was ready to become a murderer/torturer to get one. His manipulativeness and sadism? Non-existent in fanon...

In the end... I truly dislike the overall state of "Marauders era" fandom - like, they are a generation impacted by war and ever-changing politics who essentially needed to choose a side while they were still children, some betraying their families and loved ones - and then you try seeing stuff in Marauders fandom and they are turned into edgy teens who all wear crop-tops and black nail polish, listen to Taylor, go to Starbucks and talk in a Tik-Tok slang....

#harry potter #marauders #lily potter #james potter #regulus black #barty crouch jr #anti jegulus #jilly #I actually truly love Regulus and Barty #(especially Barty)#But I truly hate their fanon characterisation

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celtic-crossbow · 7 months

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Some Things, Only God Can Forgive

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Implied/mention of teen pregnancy, mentions of premature birth, implied/mentions of CSA, mentions of domestic violence

Summary: You’re hurting and have to share something about your past in order for Daryl to understand.

A/N: I’ve allowed parts of my life to wiggle their way into my writing before but this may be the most personal thing I’ve ever used my writing to vent about. I implore you to read the warnings and not venture further if any of those will trigger you. Also, the decision the reader made in her past may be controversial. Please, just… be gentle with me on this one. I needed the outlet badly.

©celtic-crossbow 2023. I do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or placed on any other platform without my consent.

Gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

He found you sitting on the grass near the graves of the loved ones Alexandria had lost. You didn’t seem to be looking at the makeshift crosses, instead staring up at the sky, all orange and purple as the sun bid you goodnight. He approached you carefully, having seen you struggling throughout the day; tears you had tried to hide during your chores and the way you were so easily frustrated with yourself and would storm off to god knows where before returning like nothing had happened.

“Hey.” Daryl said quietly. His knees cracked as he lowered to sit next to you. He mimicked your pose, stretching tired legs out in front of him but chose not to move when you drew your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. The position made you look so small.

“Hi.” You answered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Y’okay?” The archer tried to keep his gaze on the darkening sky but found his eyes sliding over to watch you when you sighed.

“No.” You whispered. He started to ask what he could do, what you needed but you didn’t give him a chance. “I need to tell you something.”

That wasn’t reassuring. “Ya can tell me anythin’.” And you could, he hoped you knew that. His temper had calmed over the last year and a half. He found himself to be more thoughtful, his need to be quick to anger diminishing, though not completely absent.

“Before the world fell,” you started, but your lip began to quiver. He watched you struggle for a moment but you seemed to settle. “Before the world fell, I was a mom.”

Daryl tried not to let the surprise show. Out of all the things you could have told him, this was not on his bingo card for the year. You had both spoken of your lives before the turn. He knew you had never had it easy, but a kid? Not trusting his voice, he hummed his acknowledgment and nodded for you to continue. You still weren’t looking at him but you must have seen because you did.

“I was still a kid myself when he came along. I had no idea what I was doing.” You laughed but it was humorless and somehow made his heart ache. “Still, he was perfect. He was so small because he came early, but fuck, he was a fighter.” When the tears started to flow, the archer went against his better judgment and wrapped an arm loosely around your shoulders. You didn’t object. In fact, he wasn’t sure you even realized he had done it.

“He was my world. Kept me going between the beatings and the other shit life would throw at me even after I ditched his asshole father.” You drew in a deep breath and the small smile you had managed to find faded. “He grew up. He was 18 a couple of years before the first walker turned.”

You remained silent for a while. Daryl wasn’t sure if you wanted to share anything more but he remained where he was and waited. Finally, you looked at him, tears in your eyes and an expression that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

“That little girl didn’t deserve what he did to her, Daryl.” The bowman’s heart all but stopped. What were you saying? You turned away again, this time staring at the ground in front of your feet. “And he did it over and over for years. He wasn’t even a teenager when it started.”

Jesus.

His arm around you tightened. He couldn’t help it.

You sniffed and rubbed at your eyes and nose a little harder than necessary. “I found out just before his 19th birthday. I kicked him out of my house and turned him in, but the legal system did what it does best. Failed. I don’t even know what happened to him. We never spoke again.” Your face screwed up again, more tears cascading over your cheeks. “She was just a little girl.” Your face disappeared against your knees, hard sobs wracking your small frame.

Daryl did the only thing he could think of and pulled you toward him, finding you willing to bury your face against his chest and cry while he held you. What could he say that would make even the tiniest bit of that raw pain you were carrying any better? His lips pressed against the top of your head, his hand rubbing circles across your back. The sky was black and littered with stars when you finally calmed down enough to pull away from him.

“I’m sorry.” You offered, seeing the dark spot on his button-up shirt.

“Ya ain’t got nothin’ ta be sorry fer.” He made sure to be extra gentle when he thumbed away the remaining wetness below your eyes. You offered him a small smile when he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, much like Carol had done for him only a few months prior.

“I should have told you before now.”

“Don’ make a bit’a diff’rence.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a little half-smile when you met his eyes questioningly.

“It doesn’t?” Your voice broke on the last syllable. “You still love me?”

“Course I do. Ya did right by tha’ girl even when it meant ya had ta lose someone ya loved. Weren’t no easy thing ta do.” Daryl allowed his knuckles to whisper down your jaw. “The hell ya think tha’d make me—oomph!” He nearly toppled over when you launched yourself into his chest, your arms winding around his neck in a hold tight enough to restrict his ability to breathe properly.

“Thank you.” Your hold loosened but didn’t fall away.

“Fer what?” The archer asked, managing to climb to his feet with you still thoroughly attached. His hands came to rest softly on your waist.

“For being everything I thought I’d never see of love.”

Daryl felt a familiar sting in his own eyes, fighting back the urge with a hard sniff. The two of you stayed that way for a while longer when you suddenly pulled back and grabbed his hand, yanking him toward the cluster of houses. He stumbled comically before righting himself with a grumbled ‘the hell, woman’ but soon fell in step beside you, listening to you list off the food items the two of you had at home and ponder over things to make for a late dinner.

Of course, he still loved you. The archer was certain there was nothing you could tell him that would ever change that.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #writing as a coping mechanism #writing as therapy #Spotify

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ccycloneblogging · 18 days

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I'm seeing age differences in those relationship charts-

But are those Real age differences, or are they part of their "Character" and not when they were actually made.

I'm assuming the latter because of them "remembering" the cartoon as you've put it- but the idea that they actually had real childhoods (one not just written up on some script) and were kids is both adorable and also very depressing.

Thinking about it, realizing you're an artificial being that was made directly into an teen/adult with only fake memories and stories from a tv show is some prime existential dread. I mean that seem like it could be one of the few things that could truly break the critters- especially for Catnap who seem adamant that there is a world to go back to, only to be faced with "that world- those memories were never real".

That kind of angst seems ripe for picking!

Alright - Combining these together.

Let's start off with a height chart and ages for the Critters! (Plus Angel), and this would be in feet - and yes these are the heights I am trying to keep consistent.

Find the original here.

Okay, more under the cut!

Let's start with our Anon. You are so right. I really want to make these guys have varied bodies, just like I did whenever I draw the FNAF animatronics. So it makes it tricky for me to keep the cartoon proportions, as I just want to lean into anthro proportions. But I strongly agree with you!

Okay. Moving on.

The ages for the Critters are based off of two things. My preference for having some older style toons - and I imagine these are based on their creation and not their ages on the show. I imagine the show kept them ageless, but around the same year. DogDay is our oldest, because I believe whoever created them in universe first thought of him before the other critters. I think the creator of the show originally meant to just have a small show with just DogDay, Bubba, and Picky - for whatever reasons. (She just gives off older vibes to me). Over time, the others were added in for various reasons. Hoppy is our youngest, as I like to think she was a last minute addition to the team to balance them out.

These ages are just what I have listed, but I think none of the critters really view themselves having the same age. I think if you were to ask any of them, their first answer would be at least twenty five. Five years working in PlayCare, ten after the Hour of Joy, and they would simply shrug off the rest.

Then there's Angel, who started working for the company at the age of twenty three. Stayed for three years, then left.

As for childhoods? They have a false one written into each of their characters. Excuse me while I ramble on about what the backgrounds they were "programmed" with.

DogDay was an only child and rather lonely. He decided to take that loneliness and work that much harder to befriend others and create meaningful relationships. He approached each critter one-on-one, and after that? He'd try to hold on to anyone he clicked with. He has so many false memories of his family and his time with his friends before the show's "start". Though... If he actually thinks about it, he starts to question why he never had any pictures of these memories. However, once brought into the "real" world, he adjusted to this realization.

Bubba was the first to be approached, though he knew DogDay when they were children. They grew up together, and DogDay really helped him get past his awkward phase. He spent so much time trying to focus on learning, fascinated by everything he could read about. DogDay helped him come out of his shell and befriend others. He was the first to realize his memories were fake and adjusted incredibly well. As far as he saw it - yes. They weren't "real" creatures in the show, but existing in PlayCare? They were alive. Did the past really matter when the present was far more important?

Picky grew up with a massive family. She is the eldest of her siblings and had always taken on a caretaker kind of role. She happened to meet DogDay towards the end of their childhood, an was confused when this excited dog insisted on dragging her over to meet a rather shy elephant. She found them both to be weird, but she warmed up to them quickly. She struggled with the realization that her memories were fake. After all, this meant that the family she had, the siblings she loved so deeply and cared for... None of that existed. To cope, she ended up taking care of the kids that much more. She was going to heal her sorrows by making new memories.

CatNap happened to wander in to town on their own, deciding to make a life for themselves - despite their young age. They was probably three days into their solitude when DogDay discovered them in a tree. CatNap was confused and insisted that DogDay leave them be, but the pup wasn't backing down. Eventually, he convinced them to come down and join him and Bubba for a picnic. Though CatNap and Bubba didn't get along at first, CatNap and DogDay were inseparable after that day. They discovered their memories were false due to their recall. They poked their head around the councilor's office and discovered too much, and CatNap just couldn't handle it. They still don't believe all of those memories were fake, and they just want to cling to those nonexistent days.

Bobby moved into town with her family, a middle child with three older siblings and one younger adopted sibling. She happened to run into DogDay during a Valentine's Day celebration. She had taken charge of the decorating, and was impressed that DogDay not only wanted to help, but enlisted his friends to help too! This is how she met Bubba, Picky, Kickin and CatNap in their teen years. She couldn't thank them enough and was the first to suggest a weekly meetup for them. She still has not realized these memories are fake, but she is suspicious of some details and has her doubts.

Kickin is the youngest child in his family, adopting a cool persona to help his self esteem issues. He didn't meet the others until later on, in the end on their childhood and the start of their teen years. He met CatNap first on accident, catching the cat being cornered by some larger critters. Despite being so tiny, Kickin' jumped in to defend the cat, and though the two didn't fair well, they immediately bonded. CatNap soon introduced him to DogDay. Though they liked each other, Kickin' always felt the need to one-up him. A rival. He has not realized the memories are fake, but he has no idea.

Crafty was an only child, but incredibly gifted. She happened to find herself in town to study, though she had a small desire to follow her art. She often spent time alone, finding a quiet spot to occasionally doodle between her studies. It was during one of these days when she met DogDay - who had no concept of personal space and leaned on her, asking her what she was drawing. Of course, this scared the hell out of her. Afterwards, DogDay apologized and insisted that he make it up to her by inviting her to the group's weekly hang-out. When Crafty met the others, she was amazed by how welcoming the other Critters were. She then began to start coming up with ideas on friendship charms and was the one to propose the idea. Everyone voted on what type of charm best suited the others. She is deep in denial that her memories are false, but deep down? She thinks she's always known.

Hoppy was the last to join the group. She met DogDay during a sporting event - as he was there to root for Kickin' (and CatNap, though CatNap spent the game sleeping on the benches). He was impressed by her sportsmanship, and she found his sunshine behavior pretty funny. They clicked almost immediately, so he grabbed her hand and quite literally dragged her to the others. While Hoppy didn't get along with the others that quickly, she stuck around. Because Hoppy was a last minute addition to the show, her memories are the most fragmented. It stresses her out if she dwells on it, so she ignores it.

CatNap's insistence on returning to their cartoon is probably the one thing that deeply angers DogDay as well. In the cartoon, they didn't have freewill. They could not feel things outside of their script - at least, not to the same extent. In the "real" world, DogDay felt they could finally be themselves. That they could truly be alive, even though they were technically prisoners to Playtime Co. DogDay couldn't express his love for the others in the cartoon. His friends couldn't be as happy - like Bobby and Hoppy. They could never be together in that world.

So, hearing CatNap demand that they just give up their freedom? Yeah. This is probably one of the only things that they fought about.

#thanks for stopping by the inbox!#ccyclone rambles #So many headcanons and there's simply not enough time for me to go into depth any further #Sorry for the rather long post as well

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milkywaydrabbles · 7 months

Note

anything nsfw (or sfw idm) with mikey and a taller reader? or any other tr boys? no sub!reader please

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for! I did both SFW and NSFW it was v fun. However if you'd like a m!reader or gn!/reader please let me know! I'll also do it for any other requested TR boy ty mwuah

Mikey x Tall!Reader

Lord the way Mikey would have had her head if they didn’t grow up together. She was always a cocky little shit on being taller than him--and seeing eye to eye with Draken. She’d been friends with him, Shinichiro and Emma your whole life. She used to be so small and shy and cute--what happened?

It felt like from one day to the next she grew in her own skin, having an awkward growth spurt as a teen and looking like a newborn giraffe learning how to walk for the first time. Always nervous to talk to boys and girls--the boys would look at her like some kind of freak, and the girls would simply make fun of her for her height. ‘How will you ever get a boyfriend if you’re so tall?’

Mikey was always there for her afterwards, make sure she knew that he still liked her a lot even if she was taller than him.

And then the years passed, and Mikey changed, and she changed too. Except now, Mikey was the leader of Bonten, one of the most dangerous gangs in the country and she was, well, a new executive climbing the ranks. No longer the shy, scared little girl, she was just as ruthless as the rest of them.

And all the while, by Mikey’s side no matter what. She was cocky, but respectful in front of the rest of them. Honestly the rest of the execs just thought you were a childhood friend and nothing more--much like Sanzu.

But what they didn’t know was that she’d joke and prod at Mikey behind closed doors. He was a ruthless leader, but with her he’d turn back into a kid, scowling at the way she’d hold things over his head (literally!).

“I can fire you.” He’d start. “I can fucking kill you. You know that right?” throwing daggers her way when he scowls, arms crossed. She’d simply snort and say “You could. But then you’d be bored when you’re alone wouldn’t you?” She’s right.

Imagine the shock of the rest of the execs when Mikey ‘accidentally’ drops the ball during an interrogation mission. Rats were found smuggling drugs out from underneath them to make a quick buck and Mikey was personally there, front and center to get info. Of course, he wasn’t the one doing the torture, he’s too good for that. She stood behind him with a stone cold face, that could bring most of the men in the room to their knees. But the assholes who were caught kept egging her on like she couldn’t hold her own. Like a woman shouldn’t be in the ranks at all.

“You’ll do well to not insult my girl like that.” It didn’t go unnoticed, Sanzu and Rindou glancing at each other for a moment but thinking nothing of it--you were an executive, he could just be talking like you were his in the same way the rest of the execs were under his command.

They kept sneering, until they realized she was the one doing the torture and not the usual suspect of Sanzu. It was gruesome and honestly one of the worst cases of torture they’d seen, but all the information was extracted. Which means she turned into their executioner, pulling a glock out from its holster underneath your shirt and putting a bullet between their eyes. The silence was deafening, only Mikey laughing to himself and raising her hand to his lips with a quiet ‘that’s my girl’ and a kiss to the back of her hand.

The next meeting the execs had (that Mikey wasn’t a part of) turned into a madhouse.

NSFW:

Mikey was always one to want to stay in control, but he had his work cut out with her. She was so good at keeping him underneath her, practically whimpering at the way she would tease his cock with her fingers, with her mouth, with her pussy.

“You’re such a good boy, Mikey.” She’d coo, fingers slowly wrapping around his erection and pumping at a snail’s pace; teasing. “Coming home to me after such a busy day.” She leaned down and gave the head of his dick a kiss, holding his hips down so he can’t buck them up into her face. “Are you going to let me take care of you, baby boy?” He nodded, breath shaky as he exhaled, “Y-yes, please.”

She used her height to her advantage, push up bras and plunging necklines her best friend to tease him even in the office. She just had to lean only a little bit, pretending to lean down and read whatever it was he had in his hands before Mikey was panting like a dog begging her to let him fuck.

She’d sit down on his desk, short skirt and pumps that made her legs look even longer, spreading her legs ever so slightly so he could see the pretty lacy panties she’d been wearing. Mikey would get on his knees ready to eat that pretty pussy, only for her heel pressed against his chest to stop him (and he was still so far away, fucking long legs). You know that one scene of Wolf of Wall Street? Very much that.

Whenever they fuck she’s very much on top, bouncing on his lap for her pleasure only. And if he cums before she’s ready to stop? Well Mikey better get used to overstimulation quickly, she’s not done yet.

#mikey x reader #mikey sano #manjiro sano #sano majiro x reader #sano manjiro #sano mikey x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #sano mikey #manjiro sano x reader #bonten #bonten x reader #milk writes #Tokyo revengers #tokyorev

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plutoccult · 7 months

Text

THREE LITTLE WORDS

pairing: jean kirstein x female reader

description: a love confession from jean shakes up your restless night as the two of you are unable to fall asleep.

word count: 2.6k

read part two here

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: hi, this was originally written on my ao3 account (@plutotown, same as my main blog and also my wattpad that i notoriously don’t post stories on anymore) a few months ago, but i decided that i also wanted to share works on tumblr too as i would like to get back into writing again. i’ll probably post mostly anime stuff on here (especially attack on titan and haikyuu as of rn), but i’m open to more. hopefully this is something i stick to, but if not, then at least i decided to expand sharing my works! anyway, sorry to ramble, but i hope you enjoy <3

it was common for you to be in this position; using what’s left of the candlelight to accompany your restless state. you always had trouble sleeping, especially with so many things going on at once, and the bags underneath your eyes were proof of it.

this time around, you were writing a letter to your father as it had been awhile since the two of you exchanged words. luckily for you, sasha, your roommate, was bothering connie and jean in their room, so you didn’t have the sounds of her snoring or munching on food to irritate you.

such peace didn’t last forever though as three knocks had startled you in the midst of your writing. you couldn’t possibly think of who could be at the door at this hour besides sasha, but then again, what if it was captain levi or hange? anything could happen in the middle of the night, but you supposed that if a major event was happening, the headquarters would be roaring with chaos already.

before answering the door, you quickly set down your paper and pen, hearing another knock to the door as you were getting ready to answer it. “coming!”

you opened the door, your eyes meeting with the last person you expected to see tonight. “j-jean?”

jean stood in front of you with his arms crossed, looking a little disgruntled, which made sense considering it was the middle of the night. you grew flustered as he wore a white tank top which revealed jean’s muscles that you had never noticed before. sure, you had become quite toned yourself since starting training as a lanky teen, but he was on whole other level. it was embarrassing to look at your friend and comrade in such a way, so you really had to keep yourself together here.

“nice nightgown.” jean snickered. you looked down and glanced at your baby pink nightgown that went down to your calves with its puffy sleeves and a little bow in the middle of your chest. usually after dinner, the two of you don’t see each other when going to bed, so seeing one another in pajamas like this was something new. if only this couldn’t get any more embarrassing. you didn’t really need jean having something else to tease you about.

“what are you doing here?” you stammered, trying to force your eyes to look up at jean’s face and not his physique no matter how hard it was to not stare. how dare he make this so hard for you?

“can’t sleep.” he sighed. “sasha and connie have been keeping me awake, and then i realized you have an empty bed because she’s in me and connie room, so.”

“so...?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“well, since you’re clearly awake, wanna stay up together?” at first, you thought of his proposal as suspicious, and yeah, it kind of was. he never comes to visit you at night like this. was there a hidden motive? who knew? you didn’t, and it’s not like you were innocent either, so you allowed him to come in and hope for the best.

“um, sure...” you replied hesitantly, no going back now. “you can even crash on sasha’s bed if you want.”

“sweet, thanks.” jean then stepped inside, his first instinct to check out the letter you were writing previously that sat out in the open for any curious eyes to see. “oh, what are you writing—“

“it’s a letter to my father!” you yelled out, quickly rushing towards him and grabbing the letter out of his hands before he could read it. “i was in the middle of writing it before you knocked.”

“oh, my bad.” he immediately apologized. “you can finish writing it, i don’t mind.”

“no, that’s fine.” you let out a sigh, putting away the paper and pen into an empty drawer. jean didn’t say anything else about it, and as you turned your head, you saw him begin to sit down on sasha’s bed with not enough time to warn him about the issue with her side of the room. “by the way—“

“jesus, are these crumbs?!” jean said in disgust. there it is.

“yeah. sasha likes to eat in bed. i was just about to warn you about that.” you forced a laugh, sitting across from him on your bed, which was notably free of any crumbs.

“disgusting.” he scoffed. the look on his face made you giggle, but you stopped once jean looked up with a bit of a scary look. “what’s so funny?”

“nothing, nothing.” you lied, then patted your hand down on the spot next to you for jean. “you can sit on my bed if you want though. i’m not falling asleep anytime soon.”

“oh.” jean stood up and wiped off any crumbs that happened to stick to his pants, moving on over to your side. he blushed as you two sat close, your hips so close that they could touch if they moved even the slightest bit closer. “uh, could you not sleep either?”

“yeah. plus, i still had yet to write my father back, so i took the opportunity to start writing it.” you shrugged. you really needed to write to your father more often, especially knowing how worried he had been since you decided to abandon your life’s plan by joining the survey corps instead of the military police. but hey, you had friends who had your back just as much as you had theirs.

jean wasn’t all that innocent either though. he missed out on writing his mother back more than you missed out on writing your father back. when it came to worried parents though, mrs. kirstein took the cake. he was surprised she hadn’t stormed the headquarters by now, but even she knew he was so busy fighting for humanity. “i need to write back to my mom too. i hope she’s not worried.”

“i’m sure she thinks about her jean-bo all the time.” you teased. jean-bo could never escape that nickname, especially with you around. although, he didn’t exactly mind when you called him that. dare he say it, but you were the only exception. jean couldn’t help but hate it with a burning passion when eren used it against him though.

“not the nickname...” jean couldn’t help but pout. his frown disappeared as you lightly nudged him, reminding him that jean-bo wasn’t the only thing he was known for.

“what? it’s cute. well, cuter than being called my stallion sidekick.” that wasn’t exactly the best nickname either, but it connected him to you, so he couldn’t complain about it as much. jean always thought there had to be something better than that though.

“we are quite a pair, huh?” he chuckled, looking over to you as you grinned and responded in agreement.

“the greatest, of course.” god, that smile. it was his weakness, but in this instance? that weakness hit him like a ton of bricks. with the combination of the growing tension, the moonlight slightly shining on your soft skin through the window, and the look of peace and innocence in your eyes (compared to your feisty look in the daytime), jean was smitten. your smile never failed him, and he hoped it wouldn’t fail him now.

“um, listen, y/n, i gotta tell you something.” jean couldn’t take it anymore. he couldn’t stand the way his heartbeat slowed, even skipped a beat when you smiled the way you always did. he hated it yet loved it at the same time, so this was now or never. he couldn’t let that smile ever leave him, not now, not ever.

“oh, okay. go ahead.” but you never had any clue about your effect on jean. sure, you were always on each others toes, attached to the hip as you both relentlessly teased one another. you always knew you and jean shared a deep connection, one that grew over the years, but you always assumed it was simply a friendship and nothing more. you couldn’t let a silly thing like feelings ruin what you had with him, but jean was willing to take a chance for once.

there was no better way to go about this than muttering your name and spilling out those three little words that would change everything. jean was always one to get flustered so easily, but the tiredness in him didn’t let him think too much, so it made all of this far more easier. without really thinking, jean lifted his hand and used it to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, hair that had seemingly grown out a little longer due to neglect thanks to the chaos around you. he watched as you grew confused, and that’s when jean said the words he had been wanting to say for months out loud.

“y/n, i love you.”

as jean retracted his hand away, your eyes shot wide open in shock. you had no idea what to say or do, you couldn’t even believe this was even happening. you felt like you could pass out at any second as the realization of jean’s confession hit you. he loved you. not just like, but love. it didn’t matter that you were merely teens in a cruel world where death was always around every corner. what started as a childish crush as cadets blossomed into an aching, burning, earth shattering love for the woman in front of him who was stronger than he thought he’d ever be.

the scenario of jean having feelings for you never crossed your mind. every time you pictured him knowing how you felt, it always ended the same with him brutally rejecting you and running after mikasa instead. god, were you dreaming? you almost wanted to yell out for somebody, anybody to pinch you all over until you started bleeding, but you were practically frozen.

“jean...” it was the only thing you could manage to utter out. even if you could speak in sentences, your mind simply wouldn’t be able to mush any words together, but you had to say something, anything. you knew how your heart beat for him but as the silence stretched out longer than it should have, jean sat in front of you, desperate for a reply. “y/n?”

“i, uh...” why couldn’t you say anything more? what was so hard about giving a proper response? to jean, it felt like a huge punch in the face, like he was being rejected, and he figured if you couldn’t manage to say anything, then he shouldn’t have said anything about his feelings in the first place.

“i knew i should have kept my mouth shut.” jean let out a sigh. you tried opening your mouth in hopes something more than “uh” would come out, but jean had given up hope on a reply, handling what seemed like rejection with grace. “just forget all of this. i’m sorry i forced my feelings upon you. i’ll just let you get back to writing your letter.”

as he stood up and began to walk out, you finally managed to say something else once you saw his hand hover over the doorknob, and it came out more as a yell rather than a normal volume. “no!”

jean turned around confused, moving his hand away from the doorknob but still standing in the same place just in case. you had his attention, but what now? “i mean...”

“goodnight, y/n.” he knew this was going nowhere, even if you seemed desperate to prevent his exit. jean grabbed the doorknob and opened the door, and as he began to step out, you stopped him once again, but with greater effort than before.

“no, don’t leave me!” you yelled out, standing up from your bed and rushing towards him. it all sounded so pathetic, you thought, but you couldn’t let him leave you, not yet. jean halted his exit once again, no matter how much it hurt him to stay a moment longer. he simply couldn’t say no to you, even at a time like this. “i mean... wait, please.”

and he did wait. that stupid, teenage hope in his heart made him wait. jean didn’t know what he was waiting for, but he was glad he did. you walked closer to him, his heart beating a mile a minute, and then you stood on the faintest hint of your tippy toes and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him unbearably close to you for a hug. he was so confused, not knowing what this could possibly mean in this instance, but returned your embrace and carefully wrapped his hands around your waist, not wanting them to rest too high or too low on your frame.

you didn’t utter a word and neither did he. this was different than the times you hugged each other for comfort in the aftermath of the many deaths you’ve seen. this wasn’t for consolation or just because you felt like it, this was longing. a desperate pining for one another that would crash and burn like the worst natural disaster there ever was, and there was no escaping it.

you trailed your fingers across his neck as jean gripped onto the fabric of your nightgown. you slowly parted from his embrace, cheeks grazing, noses brushing, and before you could do anything else, jean’s lips pressing against yours. there was no time for you to process it, no time to even close your eyes and take it all in, it just all went by so fast. your first kiss. you knew you should have seen it coming knowing he loved you, but seeing him express this more physically came to more of a shock than when he did verbally.

as jean parted away slowly, he thought to himself that this was probably a mistake. he had overstepped far more than he thought he should have, but when you took a step back away from him, he saw the redness of your cheeks and the look in your eyes. after getting a full glimpse of you, he thought that maybe it wasn’t that much of a mistake after all. jean then let go of you completely, using one hand to scratch the back of his neck and the other to tug the neckline of his tank as he grew flustered. he was wide awake now, so his mind was functioning at one hundred percent unlike before. jean was back to his usual self, the night no longer granting him confidence.

“i-i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that. forgive me. goodnight.” before you could do anything more, jean finally left, his feet moving faster than when he dragged them across the floor on his way here. he couldn’t believe he just did that, and he didn’t even give you a chance to say a word about your feelings. what would you have said after that kiss if he stayed, jean wondered. would you have said you loved him too, or would you have formally rejected him and told him you didn’t feel the same? jean would just have to wonder about it all night until you spoke to each other again, and it would probably eat him alive like a titan.

you gently grazed your hand over your bottom lip, thinking about everything that happened before jean left. not only could you not believe he loved you, you couldn’t believe he kissed you too. you wished it all went down differently, that the kiss could have occurred on better terms, but at least you had the words he left you and the thought of his lips against yours to think about. still, if only you could have said you felt the same just as he said he felt for you. if only you knew how to say those three little words.

#attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #aot x reader #aot x female reader #jean kirstein x female reader #snk x reader #snk x female reader #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #jean kirstein fanfiction #aot jean #snk jean #pluto writes 📝

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 8 months

Note

do—

Do Howdy and Barnaby ever get together in your human au 🥺🥺

of course they do, who do you think i am

oh BOY do i have things to say about human!Laughingstock! im so unwell about them allow me to talk and talk and talk and ta-

so in this au they're like... the ultimate slowburn. their feelings for each other slowly simmer and grow over the course of *checks nonexistent watch* a lil over a decade i think. it's not very dramatic - just soft & silly w/ just a heap of pining and a pinch of angst for Flavor

it starts when they were teens - Howdy had a lil crush on Barnaby in middle school. and how could he not? Barnaby was cute, hilarious, and kind. at this point, they weren't friends! Barnaby knew Howdy's name, but only because they'd shared a school since elementary (as with 6/7 of the other neighbors) & speaking from experience, you just Know Those Names. Howdy slowly "grew out of" this crush, especially when the friend group started forming and he & Barnaby became actual friends.

that crush would fluctuate over the years. It starts out strong and then softens into just this hum in the back of Howdy's mind. always there, often easy to ignore, just... part of him, in a way.

Barnaby has a similar experience. when he and Howdy became friends, he got a lil crush - how could he not? Howdy was cute, laughed at all of his jokes and had a few of his own, and was endearingly eccentric. but at the time, Barnaby didn't recognize the crush for what it was. so he elected to ignore it until the crush dwindled to something easily manageable, something he wouldn't realize is still there. as with Howdy's, it'd never fully go away

and its noticeable enough to their friends that they'd all kinda side-eye how touchy Howdy & Barnaby are with each other (Barnaby is a physical guy, but damn. if Howdy is nearby they Will find a way to be touching at all times), the way they always laugh at each others jokes, the way they always ask "where's [x] / is [x] coming with" whenever the other is absent. but the group couldn't be sure if they were looking into it or not. it's too subtle. over time they get so used to it that they don't bat an eye - Howdy is Barnaby's best friend after Wally. of course they're close!

but then there's this one college party Howdy drags Barnaby to (and by extension, Wally). they're drunk off their asses, Wally's edible has kicked in, the party is pretty chill and everyone is having a decent time. all three of them are on the couch, and Barnaby and Howdy start drunk-complimenting each other. naturally, this feeds their mutual attraction, and one thing leads to another! they make out on the couch. naturally with Wally sandwiched between them, snacking on chips and committing the moment to memory (it's a surprise tool that'll help them later!) neither Barnaby nor Howdy will remember this

now, something i'd like to state for Barnaby in this au! he has had a lot of relationships - from one night stands to actually dating someone for months. sometimes the one night stands were a "he takes someone home after a date, & they leave while he's sleeping and ghost him" situation. with actual dating, the other person always breaks things off after a few weeks, if not days. it breaks Barnaby's heart a little bit every time. to the point where in his mid-20s, he just... stops dating. he avoids other people's advancements towards him, he always takes a friend with him to bars/etc as a buffer, he becomes an expert at gracefully turning people down

("why, pray tell" no one asks "do they always leave him? he's such a catch!" that he is! when he was in school, it was his friend group. he'd try to introduce his 'girlfriend' to his friends, and it'd be an immediate "eugh, you're friends with those freaks? no way!" as an adult, people found it off-putting how (by societal standards) unusually close he was with Wally. also, again, a "weird" friend group. they'd think it's too much, or just not their scene, or 'why don't you date your little blue haired boyfriend', etc. Barnaby never holds it against Wally or his friends. he has the mindset of if that person was the one, they would accept every part of Barnaby - and his friends are indeed part of him. Howdy has also dated around a little, but to a much lesser extent. he's too busy! he doesn't have time for that!)

but the ball really starts rolling in their late 20s. something the group does together - as a fun lil rare hobby - is LARPing. they get really into it! Sally made them all custom costumes, Julie helped make the weapons (like a giant sword for herself), etc etc. they fully commit to the bit (even Frank <3). so at this event's point in the timeline, Eddie is fully integrated into the clique, but that's unimportant - just to show where we are!

so they're all doing their thing, it's a pretty big LARP event - there's always way more people than our dear neighbors, yk. they're just part of the crowd! & there's a big battle hosted, the group is split between teams, but Barnaby & Howdy are on the same side! yay! during the battle, Barnaby is "mortally wounded." Howdy half-drags him away from the main battle under the cover of their teammates (including Eddie and Julie) and sits him down by the tree. now, Howdy & Barnaby are the ones who get into the roleplay the most. they get lost in the sauce! they perform the hell out of everything they do!

& since Barnaby is "dying", he really acts like it. Howdy acts accordingly, but again, they get a little too emotional, a little too into it, a little lost in the sauce. genuine tears are in their eyes, Howdy's voice is genuinely shaking a little as he holds Barnaby in his "dying moments" (Barnaby is holding the sword between his arm and his side. he has ketchup on his armor.) Eddie and Julie are getting choked up just watching this happen. and as Howdy & Barnaby look into each others' tear-filled eyes, those little feelings that have been so quiet for so long come right back babey! full force! but then they all get hit with "arrows" and have to die right there and then, and the moments over. but! both Barnaby & Howdy walk away from this LARP session grappling with Partially Realized Feelings.

Barnaby struggles with this the most, since yk at this point he's sworn off dating. he's being careful with his heart! but when he tells Wally all of this, cause he tells Wally everything, Wally's like "oh. yes, i know! remember that one college party where you two kissed for an hour". and then he goes on to point out every instance where he's thought "right, Howdy and Barnaby are in love" (bc Wally is way more observant than he lets on! he saw that shit! his peepers were peepin!)

BUT IT'S STILL A SLOW BURN BABEY!

Barnaby and Howdy don't approach each other about this. they're both in the boat of "well, i'll just keep going and see what happens" to the point where they're practically dating without ever saying anything to each other. Howdy notices how Barnaby lingers around the store more. Barnaby notices how Howdy keeps turning up at his work to talk more. (they already chat so much...) but they still! dont! say! anything! but they both Know! they're not emotionally circling each other they are Dancing to their Own Music!

and Barnaby is letting himself believe that this can work because, well... Howdy already accepts him as he is. Howdy is part of the group. Howdy loves Wally just like the rest of em. Howdy has seen Barnaby at his (presumed) worst and didn't even flinch! as for Howdy, well, he just thinks this is right! his whole life no one has really caught his eyes or heart, but Barnaby is different. he's always been in Howdy's peripherals. it feels natural to love him so deeply. Barnaby slots into his life like the final piece of a puzzle!

there's a lot of stuff that happens in this inbetween state - Howdy's store burns down & almost takes him with it, there's some family drama that needs to be handled, The Crash happens, etc etc etc - so it's a while before they "actually" get together. but they're both patient! they've waited this long, even if they didn't know they were waiting. neither of them are in a rush. they're young. they have time.

#oughhhhhh so normal about them sooooo so normal (lying)#'do you know how they get together' yes. obviously. its not dramatic or a big thing or anything #they're just at a function together - maybe there's a little late evening art show in town that wally is participating in #or an afterparty for one of sallys successful plays #but in my mind barnaby and howdy are ofc sitting together off to the side #Flirting. yk how it is. barnaby's like 'hey can i practice some pickup lines ;)' & ofc howdy agrees yk yk #they're all terrible btw. howdy laughs at every single one. barnaby is on an emotional high. the rizz is strong w this one #one thing leads to another - barnaby says a terrible line essentially asking if howdy wants to ~come home with him~#but like. howdy agrees. and immediately the tone between them goes from lighthearted & joking to dead serious & tense #everything between them has gone unspoken until now but Now Theyre Saying It #suffice to say they leave the party early! they're giddy giggly lil bitches about it - acting like teens sneaking out yk yk #GOD THEY'RE SO FUCKING AGHHHHHH THROWING THEM FULL STRENGTH INTO A WOODCHIPPER #sorry. sorry. im calm now. thats a lie. i will proceed to explode #but anyway anyway #so that was a whole thing & basically long story short Barnaby has the morning of his dreams #Howdy makes him and Wally pancakes and they all have a nice quiet breakfast together. The Domesticity🤌#im gonna go shove my head in a blender now. excuse me #rambles from the bog #wh modern human au #gonna leave that as the tag #but yeah their story is just! slow! its a soft descent!#meanwhile frank & eddie are stumbling through their feelings like newborn fawns #but yeah and howdy & barnaby continue to take their time #its a while before barnaby is like 'hey wanna move in with us?'#howdy '....yeah sure'#and Boom! Howdy moves in!#and they actually get married a while later without anyone but wally knowing. they do it for tax reasons initially.#since they're not ready to be Married married but! they! want! the! benefits!#they keep their own last names and dont have rings bc again! theyre not ready for that yet!#FUCK IM OUTTA TAGS I HAD MORE TO SAY! TUMBLR INCREASE YOUR TAG COUNT! AGH

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osirisiii-bc · 5 months

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Whole Emeritus family Headcanons (backgrounds)

I’ve added a new WIP to my long-Fics projects and this one will be focused on the teen years of the Emeritus brothers and why, at a certain point, it became evident that they needed separate rooms. So I have finally developed my background headcanons for each one of them (+ Nihil and Sister Imperator bonus). I think I could extend their HC for specific topics in the next future.

The Sister Imperator one is, surprisingly, the one that came out more naturally. Feel free to discuss about these 👇🏻

Primo

Being 15 years older than Secondo and Terzo, he mostly spent his teenage years alone, but he was also the only one who had the chance to meet his birth mother, even if it was only for a few years. She was one of the fans Nihil had an affair with when playing with the first Ghost. She chose not to be part of the Ministry and agreed to leave Primo with Nihil, ensuring him an heir.

During his youth, he grew tall and slender, developing in an elegant figure. Despite his appearance being cold and severe, he had a soft heart, and was deeply focused on his duties.

Undoubtedly the most diligent and educated of the three brothers, he was well-behaved and respectful. From a young age, Nihil imposed strict education on him, treating him as an adult even when he was just a child. He claims he has no memories of regular childhood games or playtime, only recalling his religious and black magic studies.

Of the three brothers, he was perhaps the only one who genuinely felt a deep devotion to the Church, earning the ironic nickname 'The Saint' from his brothers.

He seemed blind to girls' advances, or simply uninterested, to the extent that Secondo and Terzo believed he was still a virgin, having never seen him with a girl... until, at around 31 (for him), they finally caught him with a lady in their room. This was the most embarrassing event for him and the funniest for his other two brothers.

He didn't spare his brothers from his strictness but was never cruel to them. His intention was for them to behave and be prepared for their future rule. Secondo and Terzo understood that even his harshest comments were for their betterment, as it was his only means of expressing himself.

He remained reserved throughout his life, making it difficult for his brothers to understand his thoughts or interests. He seemed like a product shaped by Nihil's will, with his primary interest lying in the cult and maintaining righteousness. Rarely did he allow himself to relax with laughter and enjoyment.

He was the one who discovered the 'Seven inches of 'Satanic Panic' EP in Nihil’s office and shared it with his brothers, initiating the decision to resurrect the Ghost project and summon the band Ghouls.

Secondo

He was notably tall and strongly built, starting to shave his head at a young age and engaging in exercise to gain muscle, bestowing upon him a striking appearance. He was the favorite among girls until Terzo began to realize the potential of his own charisma.

Only three months older than Terzo, they grew up like twins, developing an exceptionally close bond, despite frequent fights and arguments, typical of real brothers. However, a good laugh and conversation could mend any conflict in a short time. As they matured, their relationship evolved into one of mutual respect and admiration.

Neither he nor Terzo remember their biological mothers. They were too young when Sister Imperator chose to return to the Ministry, and no one ever disclosed what happened to their birth mothers. Sister Imperator - apart their nanny - was the only maternal figure they knew.

He officially established the Sisters of Sin order during his papacy.

Of the three, he could be deemed the most robust and composed, despite their education and hardships. He grew resilient enough not to let his past taint his future, endeavoring to relish every moment of his youth. The weight of his past visited him only later, in his old days.

His fascination with black magic developed later in life, gradually becoming his core interest. He incorporated this passion into his music.

He and Primo shared such a strong resemblance in appearance, with similar facial structures and noses, that they suspected being brothers from the same mother. They never knew if it was true.

He was the most relieved when asked to renounce the papacy. Although music and popularity had been rewarding, he didn’t mind retiring and returning to his interests without the pressure from above. His sole regret was not receiving the acclaim he deserved for the exceptional album Infestissumam was.

Terzo

Even if Sister Imperator was the only woman he had called mother, he and Secondo were mostly raised by an older nun who was particularly affectionate to him; She affectionately referred to him as her 'little prince,' a nickname later adopted by his brothers. She provided the maternal tenderness that Sister Imperator lacked, becoming the person he sought for comfort or advice, offering a hug whenever needed.

His teenage years were undoubtedly the darkest and most troubled. He was solitary and reticent from a young age, seeking solace in metal music and poetry, but unable to fill the internal void except by being cruel to the weaker individuals, such as the orphans of the Ministry. Copia in particular, due to an inexplicable attraction force, was his primary victim. While he might have later recognized this as a projection of his own orphaned background, he refused to admit it.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t always the most sought after among his brothers, despite being strikingly beautiful. He was considered too sensitive and enigmatic by girls, his beauty too particular, dark and delicate that managed to attract only a small target of girls (and a considerable part of boys), with others preferring the more conventional appeal of Secondo; Yet, his presence invariably captured attention whenever he entered a room. However, things changed with maturity as his demeanor evolved and grew stronger. Surprisingly, he found that the more he adopted a somewhat haughty and snobbish attitude, the more attractive he became.

He began using makeup after realizing that his musical idols did the same. Starting with black nail polish and kajal, he eventually experimented with dark lipsticks, primarily during parties or private gatherings.

Prohibited from developing a healthy emotional and sentimental side, he, like others destined for the papacy, was strongly advised against engaging in loving and stable relationships that could detract from their paths. This rule affected him more deeply due to his sensitive nature, stunting his emotional growth. This, however, didn't prevent him from forming at least a healthy and free relationship with sex. Potential romantic involvements often crumbled due to his obsessive and controlling behavior, stemming from his struggles to control his feelings; This later developed in chronic anxiety. He managed to soften that side of him with time, returning to a distinctive romanticism.

He wasn't a top-performing student but possessed a different kind of intuition and extensive knowledge in his preferred subjects. He was just too easily distracted to listen to someone explain boring stuff in a boring way.

He would not consider himself a feticist, just… curious. His weak points in bodies are wrists and ankles. He likes them thin.

Copia

Despite being the only biological son of Nihil and Sister Imperator, his fate was the most arduous among his brothers. He was condemned to live as an orphan within the Ministry until his Papacy.

Shy and introverted, he made earnest attempts to gain acceptance, yet consistently met with failure, which left him disheartened and caused him to abandon further efforts.

His challenging childhood did not mold him into a cruel or unstable individual. On the contrary, it fostered a profound sense of empathy and sensitivity, especially towards those considered less valuable, both people and animals, such as rats.

His affinity for these creatures began when he rescued a rat ensnared in a glue trap in the Ministry garden. He cares for the creature in secret until he could request a proper cage to keep it.

That first rat was then killed by Terzo’s cat. He swears to have seen Terzo wait for him to arrive and watch while he gave Bastet the go to attack, but was never believed and that episode just fell under “incident” label. That episode deeply scar him until adulthood.

He put all his efforts into study and the goal to become a prominent personality in the Ministry. He looked at the Emeritus brothers with admiration and desire to demonstrate his worth one day, even if his introversion and insecurities often worked against him.

He enjoyed spending time looking at the illustrations in the animal encyclopedia. Occasionally, he'd jot down notes and sketches in his notebook. He still has some of those notes.

To his surprise, his clumsy ways started to gain unexpected success with girls, in his youth. He discovered that some girls preferred harmless and amusing individuals over dominant alpha males. However, his insecurities tempered his confidence, and he typically allowed the girls to take the lead in romantic advances. When he asked a girl why she liked him, she simply answered, “You're not scary like the other guys. You're sweet and funny, and I feel like I could tear you apart and eat your insides, not the other way around.” He cherished and treasured that comment

His first time with a boy was quite easier than with a girl, for him. He just felt less anxious.

He had a secret crush on Terzo for a long time, despite the treatment he received by him. He probably realized his bisexuality by looking at him. Discovering their shared parentage was quite an awkward moment.

When he was promoted following Terzo's removal, he experienced an explosive boost in confidence; however, it didn't endure for too long.

Sister Imperator

During her youth, she immersed herself in the Summer of Love movement, becoming a groupie for numerous rock bands between the 1960s and 1970s. Her association with satanism began upon meeting Anton LaVey and Kenneth Anger at one of their parties and even took part in their Witches Sabbath.

She had several relationships, all failed very badly. Despite being a beautiful, strong woman, she lacked emotional intelligence and always fell like strong women fall: fast, hard and for the wrong guys.

Her on-and-off relationship with Nihil persisted for years. Despite leaving the Ministry multiple times due to his unreliability, she always forgave the unforgivable. Eventually, she permanently returned, even accepting to take care of his children, as she realized she had no alternative place to go for herself and her son, finding no other solace beyond the confines of the cult.

The person she became in her later years was a product of the disillusionment that consumed her after her relationship with Nihil failed, compounded by postpartum depression following the birth of Copia. A beautiful, lively, and strong girl transformed into an empty shell, teeming with hatred and resentment. After Nihil, she was undoubtedly not the same woman she once was. In a way she was unable to explain, she found herself unable to resist loving and remaining devoted to him.

When discovering she was pregnant of Nihil she felt happy and couldn’t wait to tell him, until she had the final proof of what a twat he was. She had genuinely hoped for a chance to settle down after a life of excesses and failed tales. She made the decision not to disclose the existence of Copia to him and spent years trying to recover from that significant letdown. She vowed to herself never to place trust in another person again.

Despite her libertine life and being into BDSM, all she secretly hoped for was a romantic love and a family.

She named her son Copia in the hope he would grow looking like Nihil. In her delusional fantasies during postpartum depression, she swore that if she could not have the love of his man, she would have the one of their son. A mini version of him that, it turned out, didn’t resemble him in anything. To her horror and surprise, the only sons that really resembled Nihil turned out to be the first three he had with other women.

Some say she used to sneak into the orphans rooms at night to quietly talk or sing to Copia in his sleep in his first years. Sometimes she was seen crying on his bed, repeating to herself that all she was doing was for his protection.

Nihil

Nihil wasn't inherently a bad man; he was brimming with good intentions that, unfortunately, he couldn't fulfill. Strangely, he seemed to consistently squander the positive opportunities the universe presented to him, including the Ghost band, despite being a talented musician and composer.

He met Sister Imperator when performing at a satanic party organized by LaVey and Anger in the 60’s. She led him into the cult and into BDSM.

In creating Ghost, he followed the path of the emerging rock bands of the '60s, drawing inspiration mainly from Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin. Like Jimmy Page, he held deep admiration for Aleister Crowley, even claiming that Satan himself directed him to form the band.

His genuine love for Sister Imperator endured throughout his life, but his emotional disconnect and inability to take things seriously ultimately led to the downfall of their relationship. He struggled to express the depth of his affection for her.

Upon assuming the role of Papa, he focused solely on the persona, using it as a shield to avoid any emotional entanglements, and this emotional evasion intensified over time.

He always neglected his responsibilities, including parenting and, were it not for Sister Imperator's assistance, he might have faltered in his papal role too.

While Primo was coming to life, he was cheating his mother with another groupie. Being still too drunk to think about a better name, he just named him by the first thing that came in his mind. The other two names went by naturally.

In his later years, he was gradually marginalized, losing any substantial influence on the papacy of his heirs. Sister Imperator gained complete control over the Clergy and his son's fate without him even realizing.

He only vehemently opposed Terzo's and Copia's promotions, deeming them unsuitable for the role.

#the band ghost #ghost headcanons #the band ghost fanfiction #emeritus family #Papa emeritus #papa emeritus I #papa emeritus II #papa emeritus lll #copia #papa emeritus iv #sister imperator #papa nihil #primo emeritus #secondo emeritus #terzo emeritus #Emeritus family background headcanons

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bleedingichorhearts · 1 month

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𝕸𝖔𝖏𝖊 𝖅𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖔

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: These dudes are just big ol’ drakes(dragons) right?

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets.

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗:

Moje Zlato - My Gold (Slovak)

Zlato - Gold (Slovak)

𝕬𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖊: Be 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 for/of yourself. Even it’s just a tiny cut. I also don’t ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ these 𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜.

TW // Yandere Themes, Google Translation, Language, Lil Angst?

“Is your fathers Space Marine coming soon?” One of the group members asked. Knowing that he was bound to come soon enough.

“No doubt.” I responded, looking up and down the street. Making sure it was safe to cross before walking it. The streetlights lighting up our way through the darkened roads. The nightly cold biting at my coat.

It was silent for a moment while we walked down the sidewalk towards an abandoned warehouse that was hosting a party inside of it before someone smacked their lips. “You know, it’s kind of weird that he follows you everywhere.”

“Yeah, I have noticed that too. Ever since you came back, he’s been by your side like he’s paranoid or something.” Another agreed. “Maybe he likes you very much?”

“He is my father's Astartes. He’s been there from the start.” I mentioned, spotting the party fire just outside of the warehouse. Music blasting from inside of the warehouse, sending a small vibration through my body. Just what kind of speakers did they have here?

“No, no, no. I mean it in a different way.” They responded, shaking their can of alcohol in their hands after drinking it all.

“In a different way?” I questioned, looking back at the young, brown-haired male. His green eyes slightly dilated. Already buzzed.

“I mean—”

“What he means is the Astartes possibly would like you as his mate or whatever they call it.” The girl besides the male interrupted. Flipping her black hair back over her shoulders.

“Me and Dorvenos? Never happening.” I scoffed. The thought of him having me as a “mate” was… disturbing. I practically grew up with the dude.

“What? How are you not entertained by that idea?” The girl questioned, sounding surprised by my answer. Her hands on her hips.

“He’s my father's Astartes.” I responded, shifting my weight. “I might as well be dating my uncle.”

“Oh, you’re not! Your uncle wouldn't compare! Besides, I didn’t think someone such as you would be able to resist such a package.” She grinned, brown eyes clouding over at the simple thought.

“Really? Package?” I deadpanned and folded my arms, raising my eyebrow up at her. Ignoring that uncle part. Snapping her lewd mind back into reality.

“Well, who wouldn’t want to be d*cked down by an Astartes? At most, a Salamander? They are bigger than average.” She informed. “Not to mention he is older and more experienced. I bet his c*ck would—”

“Yeahyeahyeahyeah, I get it. Just— no.” I quickly cut her off. Unfolding my arms and waving my hands at her to stop her.

“No? Have you seen him! He is the total deal! Anyone would be satisfied with getting some Astartes c*ck.” She said, throwing around her hands then pointing at me. “Maybe you need to get laid?”

“Sarah.” I groaned, putting my hands on my face that lit up in embarrassment.

“What? Maybe you need to realize what you are missing out on.” She said, taking a hold of my arm, locking it with hers and leading me to the bonfire. “And maybe you'll change your mind up on the Astartes.”

It wasn’t even an hour in before everyone in the group was drunk and having a blast. Neon lights were flashing everywhere. The music was thumping and bodies jumping, I was surprised this old warehouse hasn’t crumpled to pieces yet.

Sipping on my drink, I watched the party around me. Its poor, and bitter taste leaving my tongue in shambles, but that's what I get for going to a low-quality party filled with horny, raving teens. Though, what could make this party better would be some Noise Marines, and some Space Wolves. Now that would be a sight to see.

Taking another sip from the cup. I noticed a familiar red visor entering at the very back of the warehouse. The lights of the party covering just enough of their armor colors, but his height was not to be mistaken for a regular human.

I observed as the red visor searched through the dancing party before locking onto my own eyes, sending a shiver down my spine as my mind instantly went to Dorvenos. Here to take me home now? Ruining my pinnacle of fun?

Leaning off the wall, I strained my neck before downing my drink. It’s bitterness making my tongue feel like I drank some sand instead as I coughed. Damn, just how much did these teenagers spike their drinks?

“EVERYBODY RUN! THE POLICE ARE HERE!” Someone suddenly shouted as I threw my cup in a nearby trash. My adrenaline kicking in seeing how everybody instantly started clearing out, bodies meshing together in panic of escaping the police. This is something I could use against Dorvenos. For a moment, at least.

Looking around for the said Astartes. He was having a hard time trying not to step on anybody. His visor coming up to check if I was still where I was. Giving him a tiny salute, I blended into the crowd, following their movements out to an exit that didn’t have police waiting for anyone there just yet.

He watched as his little Zlato walked from him. Her little form sliding passed others as he slowly came forward through the crowd himself. A frustrated huff coming out of him.

He doesn’t understand why she was always running away from him. Why she was always angry at him. Angry at him for being too close. Angry at him for just being there and that wounded him.

He doesn't remember where he went wrong. He’s been patiently waiting for her return from college as her guardians stated he couldn’t go because it was Astartes restricted. A place he wasn’t not allowed in, but why couldn’t they choose one with availability for an Astartes? He knows there were others that provided the same education to his little Zlato just as the ones she went to.

He also didn’t know when she would be back. She didn’t announce it. He only knew when her scent wrapped around the home, but when she did come back. She wasn’t the same since the day she had left for that college. She didn’t greet him happily. She didn’t really acknowledge him and if she did, he would become her object of anger for reasons he doesn't understand.

She would grumble at him to leave her alone. Telling him to-do something better than trying to get to know her again. She would avoid him any room that he entered or lounged in, walking right passed it, and if she had to enter it? She would be quick about it. She hasn't outright yelled at him yet, which he was thankful for, but it still didn't dismiss her sudden... change.

He knows when the younglings would go out to do their first missions tasked to them. They don’t return remotely the same just as he didn’t with his. Of course, they were trained to handle the particular types of situations, but he knows the humans were more fragile to wound. To affect. Maybe that's what happened to his little Zlato while she was away? Something happened to her in that college. Something that he wasn’t there for her for.

He wasn’t there to provide for her. He wasn't there to protect her, and that thought hurt him too. That he wasn't there for her.

My little Zlato, please, return to me. Let me wrap you up in my fire: my warmth once more. To protect you from the cold I couldn't do before.

Please, my little Zlato. Return to me. Trust me, love me once more, just as you did before.

Please, my little Zlato.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #tw: angst #oc: dorvenos #salamander

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monpalace · 8 months

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ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, (linked universe) time/reader.

content .. it's only natural you search for your nephew after he enters the lost woods on a dare. you can't have a problem with the hand dealt to you when the beast who gives you shelter is so kind.

warnings .. no beta, we die like the promise i made to finish this before the summer after my junior year ended (i started this in april, it's august). i didn't know where i was going with this after a certain point and i think that's obvious. reader uses she/her pronouns. large, legal age gap (reader is in her 30's - 40's, time is a few hundred years old). less of a fic and more snippets, but it's almost 7.5k+ words. i don't think i explicitly say which link it is, so i guess it's ambiguous? nephew is named because this would be a pain to write otherwise.

notes .. prompted (not inspired!!) by beauty and the beast, but also the batb fanfic i found after my friend showed my an nsfw ao3 tag account on twitter. beelzebub / lord of the flies from fear and hunger was a huge inspo for link / time's physical description but there is leeway for how he can be envisioned. he's still large as shit though lmao. the layout of the manor was this, only because i wouldn't be able to write this without knowing.

supposedly there's gonna be a second part. supposedly.

idk. i might hate this enough to just. not.

The Lost Woods wasn't as intimidating as everyone talked it up to be.

Yes, it felt like the trees moved when you turned your back to them, and, granted, there were a few mobs of monsters that could get the jump on you if you weren't paying attention, but you had managed to get away with a few scrapes the few times it had happened.

The only thing to keep you company was the howling winds that grew in intensity and your own thoughts that were sprawling into whatever corners they could reach, but that was fine. You'd gratefully take decades-old gossip from the next town over instead of the creeping paranoia of what was behind you.

Of course, you would willingly go through this, that, and whatever else one thousand times over if it meant finding your nephew— and to keep yourself from reprimanding yourself from reprimanding the teens that had dared him out into the woods, but that was another thing.

Along your investigation, you'd found a broken trail of breadcrumbs that led to nothing when you followed them. They were torn pieces of fabric from his clothes, just big enough to be noticeable but small enough to keep himself protected from the elements.

(You'll forever be thankful that a younger your drilled the idea into his head.)

You'd long since discovered calling his name was useless. The only thing you've managed to do was draw the attention of a few wandering stalfos dressed in clothes from centuries ago.

The ones that had managed to find weapons were always the most painful to deal with.

If your determination weren't so established, you would've lost your sanity within the first day.

Food and water were no issue, you were smart enough to pack more than a week's worth of both. There were non-perishable options and several choices for your nephew when you found him; he'd no doubt have his fair share of cravings after being lost for so long.

(Three days was an eternity to you.)

Just before the sun had reached its crest in the sky, you'd realized that there were more empty clearings than trees. Wildlife had become scarce as well.

Where deers and wolves previously ran abundant, birds and squirrels that ran from the smallest of noises replaced them.

The wind had calmed, at least. It no longer wanted to push and shove you in whatever direction it pleased or steal the bag full of items you brought along. You didn't have to hug your sweater to your chest in fear of it being ripped from your arms either.

Instead, it was still.

Admittedly, the clearing gives you more paranoia than anything else.

When your mind starts to wander to places you'd rather it not reach, you begin to hum a quiet tune to yourself— your nephew's favorite— and allow it to ground you.

You were here for a reason. You wouldn't leave until you found him. You'll be fine until you find him, and you'll find some way to live in the forest that refuses to let its inhabitants go peacefully.

It's hours later when you hear the first sound of life (or suspended death) that doesn't feel like a threat— though, in hindsight, you should've been smarter and more suspicious of it when you first heard it.

A high-pitched instrument repeats each croon you let out, eventually taking over and silencing you. You follow the tune without much of a thought. If it were some sort of elaborate trap to lure you in, you couldn't be mad at yourself if you fell for it.

Clusters of trees become less and less as you follow the instrument and its recreation of your nephew's song. You call his name and are met with nothing but the music (from an ocarina, you quickly recognize) growing louder as time passes.

To say you're shocked when a large and, admittedly, well-kept manor enters your field of view would be an understatement. It's covered in vines, invasive arrowroots, and spreading flowers, but looks lived in if the smoldering smoke slowly dissipating in the afternoon air was anything to go by.

You couldn't begin to imagine who lived inside before the woods took it over (or what lived in it now). The architecture says it predates the Hero split in four, but you doubted the inhabitants of the floating sky built something so elaborate when they returned to the surface.

Your eyes jump past the crumbling pillars and dilapidated statues to the half-glass double doors that seemed to open on their own.

The music was coming from inside the manor now.

Steeling your nerves and squaring your shoulders, your hand grips tight on the strap of your satchel as you walk up the stone stairs covered in moss. You have to hold onto the guardrail installed next to it just as tight. Looking down, you find the carvings of it sorely separating it from the older antiquity of the manor.

Taking in smaller details (for future escapes or weapons against whatever lived inside, you'd figure out later), you find that the small pools of water that came from the sides of the manor and ran and fell alongside the stairs you climbed held small clumps of straw-colored fur. Some caused the surrounding water to turn into a pink hue that reminded you of fairies you've seen in childrens' books.

(Your hand reaches into the satchel to make sure you brought all of your nephew's well-loved books as well as a novel or two for yourself.)

(You did, thankfully.)

There's a smell filled with musk that permeates the air the closer you get to the manor, thick with amber and ginger and it reminds you of the times you come across a pack of wolves during your childhood.

Upon entering the manor, you find it was strongest in the wing of the manor to your right. It took over almost the entirety of your senses, but it wasn't an unwelcome or overwhelming sensation. If you paid close enough attention, you could sense the homely feeling underneath the ferality of it.

You prayed you'd be able to tell when the beast returned; if it was gone in the first place.

You take close note of how the foyer wasn't truly a foyer with how it was filled with windows rather than walls that led to a courtyard and how the only way to enter the wings of the manor was the winded stairs that connected via the terrace.

You don't fail to notice how the wing coated in the musky scent is coated entirely in shadows despite all the sources of light.

You couldn't decide if you were thankful or filled with loathing at the idea of what roamed on that side of the manor.

It's a struggle to turn your eyes away from the darkened wing of the manor, but you do manage when the music picks up once more from the left wing. It's significantly brighter and doesn't fill you with a sense of dread as the right one does.

Trap be damned, your nephew was here, you knew it— you felt it.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you find that you're inside a parlor room that leads to three other pathways. One was a library, another was a dining room, and the last was a small hallway.

In any other situation, you'd explore some more. The supposed beast that possibly lived in the manor kept everything in better shape than what you'd expect— or hopefully it was the forest spirits that lived throughout the forest.

Hopefully, those same spirits kept your nephew safe.

You have to close your eyes to better determine where the music is coming from, the only thing you can hear beside it and your own breathing being the manor settling. Your ears guide you inside the hall and you find it branches into a corridor, a bathroom, and two bedrooms.

Common sense seems to leave you when you spot the back of your nephew's head. Your breath quickens as you watch him clap along with the ocarina, you force your eyes to keep their clarity when you hear him hum each note just as you remember.

"''ire," you call in a weaker voice than you intended or thought you had. The nickname he claimed he hated so much tumbled from your lips so easily as you rushed inside the room, one arm rushing to remove your satchel while the other reached out to almost check if he was real.

The Lost Woods were known for their tricks, after all.

When he turns to face you, he's scrambling over himself in the bed. You're able to see how he limps on his right ankle and knee, how the entirety of his limbs were wrapped in bandage wrap as though done by a child. There was no blood, so you hold off on checking him over.

(The bandages were stained, thankfully not with blood. It was mostly dust and grime.)

(You'd have to sanitize whatever was wrong.)

You meet him more than halfway when you catch the way he winces and hisses with each movement.

"Auntie— Auntie— Titi!" His voice is airy as he speaks, emotion causing his words to come out as chokes. His arms reciprocated the tight hug you had on him, forcibly keeping his arms from trembling due to either nerves or injuries. "Titi, Titi, Titi!"

The way he says the word makes him sound like some chittering bug. If you listened hard enough, you could tell how his teeth clattered together, but you couldn't decipher if it was from a chill or emotion.

All you wanted to do was keep his head against the crook of your shoulder and neck while you pressed kisses to the crown of his head and kept him as close to you as you could, but you knew better.

Pulling away, you reach back for the satchel that you previously discarded. "What's wrong? What happened?" You force your voice to even out when you speak, hands already reaching for his arms after you sit the bag against your hip.

He shakes his head, but you've known him long enough to know there was something wrong. "They're from when I first went in the forest," he answers, voice quivering. "It's all healed. I think."

He doesn't push your hands away or pull his arms back when you skillfully unravel the bandages, carefully pulling and prodding the scars that littered the skin, and he was telling the truth despite the coloring.

"Did you forage like I taught you? Why are most of them green?"

"The spirits."

"The spirits?"

"And the soldier." He looks over your shoulder as though searching for their figures. "I haven't seen him yet, though."

Your eyes squint as one of your hands rubs over the strange texture of the scar, the other reaching for the antiseptic and clean fabric in your bag. "Are these spirits children or small trees with masks?"

You'd heard of both in legend. No one's ever seen them.

You're not sure which you'd rather watch over your nephew.

His eyes drift to his side before peering back over your shoulder once again. His brows furrow as he thinks of how to answer, head tilting as his pupils dilate.

"Both," he answers, "and ones that look like scarecrows. I asked them to bring you."

You force your gaze to keep itself on your nephew. You wouldn't let it wander to spirits you couldn't even see. "The ocarina?" You instead ask another question jumping around your mind, sucking your tongue in appreciation when he nods. "Smart boy."

An airy laugh leaves him, his face lighting up with a smile. "Learned from the best," he snorts.

You risk pressing kisses to the apples of his cheeks and forehead at his flattery, hands cupping themselves on the nape of his neck to bring him closer.

A younger him would push you away without a second thought, whining on about how you were embarrassing him in front of his friends.

He lets you do so now regardless of the spirits that surround you both.

"What've you been eating?" Your hands drop to his biceps when you pull away. They weren't thin like you'd expect them to be after three days in the forest; they were fatter than they had been before he left. "Who's been feeding you?"

His answer of "the Soldier," is quicker than you would've liked. "He goes out and hunts. He always brings back meat. I think it's deer.. it tastes.. bland."

"He.. cooks it, right?"

Another laugh wracks through your nephew's body. He knows you're only being cautious, but he can't help it.

"All the way through," he hums, flexing his arms when they start feeling stiff. "I think I don't like it because it's not your cooking."

He knows what your response is going to be before he finishes speaking, years of having lived under your guidance making him attuned to the smallest of your movements.

When your expression shifts from being relieved to disappointment with a twitch of your eye, he can tell you're not pleased with his statement.

Dousing the fabric in the antiseptic, you take his arm in your hand and begin wiping it down. "Don't be rude." Your voice takes on a less-than-pleased rasp, speaking lowly as if you knew the Soldier was near; but you still apologize when the sting sets in. "Have you thanked him?"

(You're sure you would continue to speak quietly regardless of the context of the conversation. You didn't want to risk "the Soldier," doing anything unfavorable.)

(Your nephew's words of praise did little to ease your stressed heart.)

"I never know when he's here. He drops the food off while I'm asleep. He brings books and carvings too." He watches as you wrap his arm in another roll of (cleaner) bandages, undoing the old one on his other arm while you prepare another piece of fabric. "The Spirits say I'm the most excitement he's had in a while, so he doesn't mind."

His voice was beginning to grow hoarse from speaking so quietly. You tap his throat to tell him to relax.

"They say he's nice," he continues, doing as told. Tapping the fingers of his now free hand against your shin, he tries to recall what all they've told him.

"I think they said he used to live in another part of the woods when he was a kid?—" His eyes glance back over your shoulder, suddenly becoming sure of himself. "— Ah. They did. They said he left and came back when he was older."

You raise a brow but don't speak your question.

Your nephew takes hold of your retreating hands in both of his.

A clatter and snippy huff outside the bedroom door rouses you from your light sleep.

Nearing a week into your stay at the manor, you'd think you'd be more accustomed to the noise, but you aren't.

You carefully remove your nephew's head from your arm, using even more caution when trying to remove the conjoined weight of several spirits from your legs as you slip out of the bed.

It's hard, but you manage to do so without waking any of them— you hope.

(You still couldn't see any of the Spirits, but over time you could feel when they crowded around you and when the wind moved as they rushed past you.)

The floorboards creak beneath your feet.

You hear the sound of claws scratching against the floor on the other side of the door.

Pressing the crown of your head against the door, you tap your fingers along the handle to give the Soldier a warning and wait a few moments.

If you listened hard enough, you swear you could hear him scurrying into one of the other rooms before he shut the door behind him.

It reminded you of a dog.

Smiling to yourself, you're careful opening the door, keeping your head to it and your eyes on the floor. You turn to the other side of it to close it, waiting for the click of the lockset to speak.

"Are you decent?"

His confused "huh," sounds more akin to a gasp than any other noise.

You rap your fingers against the handle again. "Can I look up?"

"Oh—" he sounds choked. "Yeah— Yes. Yes. You can. Sorry."

"Thank you," you hum, leaning down to pick up the tray of food. It consisted of almost entirely meat with a few vegetables you figure are exclusive to the woods. "For both the food and taking care of my nephew."

There was a thumping noise behind the door, the frequency of it was like a tail beating excitedly.

The Soldier lets out a croaking noise and you know his mouth started moving before his mind was able to catch up. "No, I should thank you for looking for him— and for telling him not to use his name."

You let out an airy laugh. "It's common knowledge where I'm from. I wouldn't be a good parental figure if I didn't."

Another noise leaves the Soldier as you fix yourself to open the door. You can't discern what this one means. "I don't know when they started calling me the Soldier, but it's not— uhm.. A favorite.. of mine."

"Oh?"

"Soldier," he sounds more confident in himself and you don't have the heart to tell him you heard him the first time, "it's a nickname. I don't know where the kids got it, but I don't like it."

Readjusting the tray to rest against your hip and forearm rather than in both your hands, you hum curiously. "So what should we be calling you?"

He pauses longer than you'd think it'd take to remember your own name, but you wait.

"Link."

"Link?"

"Yes."

"Like in a chain?"

".. Yes."

You nod even though you're sure he can't see you. "I'll be sure to tell 'ire."

"Thank you." There's more thumping from behind the door.

"And thank you."

There's another noise from Link you struggle to understand, but you figure it's because he starves for conversation. "I heard what your nephew said about the food, too. I'll try to find something to flavor it with next time I'm out."

"Thank you," you repeat. Your eyes curve with your smile. "He'll greatly appreciate it."

Link raps his fingers against the door in response, but he doesn't say anything. You take that as your queue to reenter the bedroom.

"How come your side of the house is always dark?"

You gently pinch your nephew's elbow and he swats your hand away, leaning impossibly close to the door that separates him and Link.

There are a few moments of silence from the man that 'ire filled with bated breath. Link takes an audible, steadying breath before knocking what you think is his nail against the door.

"I wouldn't want to scare you both off."

It was an answer you expected, but you were disappointed nonetheless.

"Boo," your nephew groans. You're sure Link could hear the pout in his voice if the quiet chuckle he lets out was anything to go by. "You can't be worse than what I've seen out there."

There's genuine intrigue in the noise Link lets out. "Oh? What exactly have you seen then?"

Pure excitement fills your nephew's expression when he turns to look at you from over his shoulder. His fingers tap against the floor restlessly, tongue already listing off whatever monsters he's encountered (read: come up with) in his twelve years of life.

"— but their teeth are the worst! They're poisonous and there isn't a cure for it!"

You have no clue as to what creature he was talking of now. There were at least fifteen of them who injected poison through their teeth, eight of which had no cure.

(You don't have to strain as hard to see the Spirits as you did two weeks ago. The shadows and light shift around then as they move to sit around your nephew, seemingly hooked on your nephew's every word.)

(You remember when he would crowd himself around you similarly whenever you would tell him a story.)

You close the book that sat in your lap more for decoration than entertainment at that point and place a hand over your heart.

"I drew a lot of them too! My aunt brought them with her!" He pushes himself through the motions of standing up before immediately stopping and returning to his seat in front of the door. "I'll show them to you if you eat dinner with us!"

There are a few stammering noises from the other side of the door and yet you can't bring yourself to apologize for your nephew's bargaining.

Your own curiosity was quickly starting to get the better of you against your wishes.

The noise he had made several nights before makes itself heard again. His claws (you discovered those a few nights ago) scratch against the wooden flooring as he moves to sit against the other wall rather than the door, his voice moving with him.

"I don't want to— I wouldn't want— want to disturb you— either of you." His words are muffled by the door and his growing quietness, a regretful lilt stuck in his throat. "But thank you for the offer."

If he truly didn't want to join you and your nephew (and the spirits) for dinner, he was terrible at showing it.

"I know I wouldn't mind," you hum, standing to put away the book. A loud thumping makes the floor vibrate and 'ire has to stifle a laugh. "I wouldn't mind picking up a pot and pan again either."

"No!" Link quickly apologizes for his tone after realizing his outburst. "You don't have to. I wouldn't be a good host if I made you do that."

"Are you scared I'll poison you?"

Your nephew's voice drops to a whisper he swears you won't be able to hear. "She can't. She's the best cook ever."

You're not sure how the two correlate, but you'd take thew compliment.

"She won't?" Link's voice drops to entertain your nephew despite his earlier convictions. It takes on a playful direction, fur rubbing against the wood-tiled floors in excitement (based on prior interactions). "You've never gotten sick? Not once?"

'ire begins to shake his head but quickly stops. "Only from eating too much— which you will do, by the way. Best cook around," he reiterates.

Link chuckles, tapping his fingers against the floor restlessly. It takes him a moment to come up with something to say and neither of you push him to hurry.

You were both too hooked on his every word to do so anyway.

"I'll.." He's shy for all the attention. You wonder when the last time he got so much focus on him outside of the spirits. ".. I'll be sure to think about your offer. Why don't you tell me about a few of your monsters so I have more of an incentive?"

Your nephew jumps on the opportunity while you think over the plethora of recipes in your mind.

It wasn't rare for one of the imps to accompany you outside when you went foraging.

You never strayed too far from the manor— the last time you had been dragged outside of the area you had designated for yourself (and your nephew) by the children, Link had to come and rescue to lot of you before the sun had gotten too low.

Suffice to say, it was a rather humbling experience.

Kneeling, squatting, or sitting on the ground had never been easy on your knees or back, but the grass below you had felt as though it were a pillow hailing from the Heavens itself.

Your body works on picking herbs from the ground before placing them in your bag repurposed for your (new) everyday tasks while your mind wanders elsewhere.

You're humming to yourself when a twig snapping breaks your focus.

It was a nice reminder that the imps hadn't, in fact, accompanied you that day.

Your head lifts to survey the surrounding woods. Your entire body was still, mimicking a deer caught on a hunting trip.

There was nothing immediately in your line of sight that could be seen as a threat, but you had lived a long enough life to know that wasn't enough reason to let your guard down.

You're slow to rise to your feet and your ears are strained as you listen for whatever had made the noise.

"I'm sorry!"

You can feel your body relax when you hear Link's voice call out from behind a tree. You sink back to your knees without much thought, clutching the fabric of your top to calm your battering heart.

You weren't sure what you were going to do if it were an actual danger anyway.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he continues. His arms move and you can see one drop against the side of a tree while the other tightens around the corpse of an animal. "You were so still, I wasn't sure if you were okay."

A quiet, breathless noise leaves you. You're not sure if he could hear it, but you can see his shoulders relax when you do. "You're— You're fine! I just.. didn't know that you'd be out and about at this time."

When the hand not occupied with that week's dinner (barely) lifts to grab ahold of a tree branch, you're shocked to just now find out how tall he is.

"It's not your fault. I didn't know you were out here," he grunts while gently tugging at the branch. "Are you alone?"

Your eyes drop to the flora that surrounds you to not feel so invasive. Your fingers rub against the blades of grass idly when a restless feeling overtakes you. "A few of the kids said they'd join me later, but I'm not too sure when that's supposed to be." A short, genuine laugh leaves you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they forgot."

Link lets out his own, quiet laughter that you can only clue together when you see the entire tree shake in your peripheral. "I wouldn't take it to heart. They say they'll join me in hunting all the time but never do."

"Have you ever given them a stern talking to? I've heard that usually works with spirits."

"They barely listen to me as is. I think you'd have more luck than me."

"Is that an offer?"

"Are you headed home now?"

A strange vice tightens around your heart at his wording while you look through your bag. "Mhm," you hum, standing now that your legs aren't like that of a newborn. "You'll have to remind me of the way, though."

"I can guide you," he hums in reply. "You just can't look back."

Turning your back to him, you're surprised you don't jump when a sharp claw gives a ghostly touch to the center of your back.

You're shocked that you disregard the urge to check over your shoulder every step back to the manor.

You were no stranger to 'ire's night terrors.

They'd gotten better over the past few years as he aged, but all that progress had been undone during the near month you'd been in the forest.

Wiping away the tears that had managed to slip out, you ignore the prickly and uncomfortable feeling that comes with keeping your lulling head up so you can watch him.

You'd done it a thousand times before and would do it one thousand and one more if it meant he felt better.

You don't miss how his grip on your arm tightens when you start humming his favorite song. Your hand trails up to his hairline, nails (claws?) tracing the paint on his face that refused to fade.

You'd spent so long trying to scrub them and the green marks off, you hadn't even realized his skin had started to pale into a sickly grey in patches while darkening into (what looked like) a necrotic black in others.

You didn't even want to think about the changes that had started coming to your body.

You were, however, thankful you weren't thinning into a stalfos.

"You're not as sneaky as you'd like to think."

"How'd you know?"

"I have a young nephew. You learn quickly."

A brief laugh leaves Link from behind the cracked door. Though you didn't face him, you could see the way his eyes illuminated the wall in front of you, even managed to catch on some of 'ire's face.

It was a pretty blue color.

You don't comment on it.

"What's wrong?" Your voice has a deep rasp to it, your hand continuing to stroke your nephew's face even after he begins to calm down.

He'd slowly begun dropping more and more barriers (physical and mental) when it came to communicating with you both, having taken up shadows in their stead. He had gotten more confident in conversation as well, stammering and stuttering less the longer your nephew forced him to talk.

It makes you wonder how long it'd take for him to finally make true on those dinner plans.

"I heard him," Link hums just as quietly, the glow of his eyes moving to instead look over the sleeping spirits that crowded themselves around the space not occupied on the bed. "I was worried. Do you want help with them?"

A soft laugh leaves you when one of the imps buries their head onto your calf as though it were a pillow. "They've been like this since we first got here. 'ire," you press a kiss to his forehead when he rouses, waiting for him to settle before speaking again, "says they like to cling."

"You don't mind?"

"He's not too far off from them nowadays."

"Does he miss anything?"

Laying on your back, you being 'ire's head to rest against your shoulder. Your gaze is finally able to see how he'd take up all of the doorway (and then some) through the crack of the door.

You'd be shocked he hadn't flinched away if it hadn't been for the way his hand reached out to clasp it.

The tips of his fingers reached well past the frame of the door, his claws further, and you could only imagine just how much space he was taking up in the small hallway.

You were confident he could fit five or six of you in his hand without trying.

Your eyes jump back to the three (possibly four?) eyes before he can become self-conscious.

"Almost everything," you answer after pulling yourself from your thoughts. "His clothes, his dolls.. He could go without his friends, though."

His eyes jump from your face to the window as he huffs out a nervous laugh. It makes you wonder if he knows something you don't, but you don't push. "And you?"

"Hmm?"

"And yourself," he clarifies, "what do you miss?"

You're silent.

What exactly did you miss?

The feeling of your village's grass between your toes after the rain, the baker's treats that no other could replicate, being a part of such a tight-knit community, the sun after a particularly muggy morning—

There wasn't any need to be a sap.

"I'm not sure," you finally say after a long period of silence. You hadn't realized your eyes had left Link, yet when you force your gaze back to him, he holds it without issue. "I struggled with becoming attached to things unlike 'ire."

"Hm."

"What?"

"I can't remember the last time someone said something like that."

"You have visitors like us often?"

"More than you'd think."

"And what's become of them?"

The glow of his eyes drops to the sleeping spirits that litter before looking to the window again and you quickly understand.

The hum that leaves your throat is more lackluster than you intended it to be, but given how quickly the topic had changed, you give yourself the grace.

"Well," you start after clearing your throat, "what's something that you miss?"

The manor creaks when Link leans against a wall and his confidence in the movement tells you more than you'd expected.

You don't think you'd ever have the same amount of trust he held in it.

There's a playful tone in his voice when he speaks, one of his hands raised to scratch against his chin. "You'd have to promise not to be dramatic when I say."

"Is it my fault you use such outdated terms thousands of years behind my time?"

Link turns away to stifle his laughter, shrouding the room in darkness and forcing your eyes to strain with it.

"I can't say I've had the easiest experience understanding you or your nephew's sayings," he hums, drowning you in the light of his eye when he turns back, "the kids have to keep filling me in."

"Shame, and here I thought you'd been closer to my age. Have you been leading me on this entire time?"

Link's claws knock against the wall, his tail wagging against the floor while he huffs his amusement. "Have I? When I don't even know your name?"

If the weight of 'ire wasn't on your shoulder, you're sure you would've had a physical reaction of some sort.

"It'd do you good to not forget it," he hums, the movement of his tail slowing until it stops entirely. "Titi and Auntie, as much as I hate to say it, won't do much good."

Another lackluster noise leaves you as the arm trapped underneath your nephew lifts to rub your thumb during his forehead. "How fun."

"The kids are too attached to do anything now." The door slowly creaks open before stopping. It shuts so there's only a crack instead. "You'll be fine to share your name now."

"You never answered my question."

"Which one?"

"I haven't asked a lot," you huff before taking a softer tone, eyes rolling closed. "What is it that you miss?"

Link quietly snorts, muffling it by pressing his face to the door. He takes a steadying breath before saying a quiet, "a lot, I suppose. I can't name just a few things." A low noise leaves him, it's similar to a growl. "My friends? Playing music as well— my hands aren't good for much but skewering these days. My horse, Epona, too. She was the prettiest mare."

"Is she red with a white mane?"

"You saw the kids' drawings?"

"I've seen her before, I think— or maybe it was a hallucination?" The hand stroking 'ire's forehead stops as you scrounge your memories. "When I saw her outside the forest, I knew it was real. Another fated hero was mounting her."

You'd like to think yourself a master of figuring out what each noise he makes is meant to mean, but the one Link lets out once you finish speaking is short and of a higher pitch than normal.

When he begins to stammer over his words as he had when you first interacted with him, it feels like years' worth of progress has been undone.

"I— uhm— You— I don't— err— Thank—"

His tail thumps three times before he knocks his head against the door with a heavy groan. He lets out a quiet "Hylia, be damned," you couldn't help but think he hoped you wouldn't hear to go along with his frustration.

"It's been a long night," you finally prompt. "You'd best get some shut-eye before 'ire bombards you with more from his imagination, yeah?"

"Yeah," Link answers in a weak voice. "Yeah," he repeats to himself more than anything, "of course. Good night," he steps away from the door. "Sleep well."

"Same for you."

The night Link finally takes you and 'ire up on your offer for dinner, your nephew and the spirits had taken to floating around the east wing's dining room to prepare it for such a grand event.

"Titi, titi!" One of the Kokiri exclaims, tugging at the fabric of your skirt (that Link had made out of a spare bedsheet). Her voice had a strange echo to it— all of them, really— and had given you migraines up until you'd finally become accustomed to it. "'ire says that you'll make your world-famous pudding! Will you? Will you?"

You ignore her exaggeration in favor of forcing yourself to wrench your eyes away unless you wanted her puppy dog face to work on you. "Should I? I.. I can't say any of you have been acting well enough to deserve it.."

Even in your peripheral, it's not hard to miss the absolutely crushed look on her face. Her eyes were wide and her bottom lip wobbling like she was about to cry despite your joking tone.

"But why—y," she whines, dragging the last syllable on while hiccuping on her breath as she went on. You know the tears pooling in her eyes are just as fake as your rejection of her request— but you know just as well who'll win the battle at the end of the day.

"I—" hiccup. "Want—" hiccup. "Cake—" hiccup.

You raise a brow. "Pudding or cake, sweetheart? I can't make both."

The girl begins to climb your back while you return to sautéing the vegetables, arms wrapping around your neck so she can press her cheek against yours. "Cake! No, pudding! No! Cake! No—"

"I'll tell you what," you interrupt, taking the pan from over the open flame once the food is charred to your liking. Your skin thanks you when you step away and douse the fire, the arid air leaving through the open window. "Why don't you ask a few of the others which they want then we can try and get Link to bake it after dinner?"

The girl jumps off your back with stars practically filling her eyes. She cries out for several names while she runs off, hands clapping excitedly as she shouts out the change in plans.

You're left in peace until your nephew enters with his journals clutched between his arms, bouncing between his feet while he watches you finish plating each food item on dishes you could only dream of owning where you're from.

"D'you think he'll come?" 'ire's voice is low, almost as though scared Link will hear. You know he does if the night of his nightmares a few months ago were anything to go by— but he didn't need to know that.

"He'd better," you answer in an equally low tone. "I didn't spend so long slaving away at this just for him not to."

"Is that a threat?"

The plates in your hands aren't spared by the flinch that wracks through your body. Your reflexes are quick to catch them before any of the food can hit the floor.

'ire, on the other hand, has no issue with voicing his shock in the form of a scream, scurrying from the doorway while dropping his journals. He jumps behind you, hands clutching the fabric of your skirt while he hides himself behind your hip.

"Well?"

Placing a hand over your racing heart after putting the plates down, your other hand comes down to rest on 'ire's head. "It's rude to sneak up on people, you know."

The blond fur of his chest rustles with his laughter. It was difficult to see much else other than that, what with the way he hid himself behind the wall connecting the kitchen to the pantry.

You hadn't even heard his footsteps or creaking floorboards when he first approached. Had he been there the entire time and 'ire hadn't seen him, or had he only walked in after 'ire entered?

You wondered if he was naturally quiet or if he just learned which floorboards were loose.

"Is it sneaking when you were expecting me?" Link's voice is lighter than it usually is, a slight tremble could even be heard if you focused on it enough. He rocks on his feet and briefly leans forward, a less organic-looking side profile coming into view before leaving right after. "If I knew I would be this unwelcomed, I—"

"That's a joke, right?" 'ire stomps away from your side while he speaks, stepping over his discarded compilations of works to stare up at Link with wide eyes. Your nephew ignores the way Link's hands raise to cover his face and how he backs away as soon as he pivots in his foot to face him. "You're not actually gonna pansy out, right?"

Your feet lead you to the two before you can have much of a thought. "Zaire," you say in a terse voice, taking hold of his shoulder and bringing him against your front so you can stop him from interrogating the poor man. "Don't be rude."

Whatever argument he has dies on his tongue when he takes a good, long look at Link. His mouth gaped open like a fish, one of his fingers lifting so he could push it into the fur of his stomach, watching the skin beneath sink with the force of it as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Woah."

If you had any less sense of dignity, you'd let yourself have the same reaction.

"Don't be rude," you reiterate, pushing Zaire's hand down until it finally reaches its rightful place at his side.

"No," Link breathes into his palms, clearing his voice to try and rid it of the anxiety (and, possibly, humiliation). "He's— he's fine. This wouldn't be the first time someone responded like that. I'd be more concerned if he did any other way."

Zaire shrugs your hands from your shoulders, stepping until he is toe-to-claw with Link. "Then why are you hiding your face? It can't be that bad," he says, tugging at the fur of Link's elbows, rubbing them between his fingers so he could better be accustomed to the texture.

Spreading his fingers enough so you both could see the four holes in the inorganic material, Link lets out another heavy breath. "I'm self-conscious," he can tell the answer doesn't please Zaire and continues speaking, "It's been.. too long.. since I've shown anyone either of my faces."

"A mask is.." Your voice falters off when you finally find the words to speak, losing them again when you fail to find a proper way to articulate your thoughts.

"It's mostly you and the kids, no?" You try again when you figure out a way to better word it. "Is a mask not.. Is it.. necessary?"

When the blue light that emits from his eyes lifts to look at you, an unidentifiable emotion shoots through you. He holds your gaze for a few, silent moments before turning his head and dropping his hands.

"It's like a second skin," he simply offers.

"Sad," Zaire sighs, backing away and turning until he stood in the center of the kitchen. "Can you still eat with it? Like I said, Auntie is the best cook in all the realms and you have to taste it to believe it."

Curse your nephew's skill of lightening a mood.

Rather than let his insecurities keep him from looking at either of you for the duration of the night, Link looks down at Zaire with a playful jolt of his shoulders. "It's not fused with my face."

Zaire's eyes curl into crescents while he grabs two of the plates from the counter. "Good!" His tail (a terrifying new addition when he first started changing) wraps around the third dish, walking himself past the two of you in the pantry so he could place each one on the dining table. "You'll love this then! Auntie," you don't miss the way he adds your name causally, "always makes this on a big day!"

Link repeats your name under his breath before doing the same with Zaire's. He lets out a thoughtful nod as each one rolls off his tongue, one pair of eyes looking at you while the other continues to follow your nephew.

He wrings his hands together when he catches the way you examined him oh-so-carefully, arms crossed with your head tilted.

"It's nice," he gulps as though every inch of nervousness had reentered his body. "It's a nice name. I like it. It suits you."

You don't know if you were teasing him prior, but you decide to do so now.

"I'd hope so." You pat a hand against his arm as you walk into the kitchen, ignoring the oily feel of his fur. You ignore the feeling of him watching and instead focus on searching through the cupboards for the drink you had foraged around to make just days before. "I could say the exact same for you, thankfully."

"Now, why don't you have a seat so I can play host this time?"

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