#all days of the week when i learn more and more daily about the tragedy that is living in this capitalist hellscape world

[bohemiandeer]

You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.

But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.

Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.

I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.

FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.

#free palestine #gaza #palestine #rafah #israel #current events #gaza strip #human rights #childrens rights #save the children #cease fire in gaza #cease fire now #cease fire permanently #palestinian genocide #support gaza #pray for palestine #ceasfire now

[quiveringdeer]

.

#nat rants #when you're giving life what you can give #and do a great job interacting with students and teaching whkch is your main job #but because you're late to the be an hour early setups or are in moods around coworkers #before turning on the positivity for the kids #im barely making fully successful on my evals #like i know getting back in therapy may help but people act like it's so easy to find a compatible therapist #and honestly i don't want to talk about all my shit with another white woman therapist no matter how #in the know on shit they are it just isnt the same and meds help some but im sorry i cant be positive and functional #all days of the week when i learn more and more daily about the tragedy that is living in this capitalist hellscape world #i just dont understand how im supposed to respond to that other than #yeah i GET IT im not over here enjoying that i feel like a barely functioning human most of the time either #and my supervisors are so understanding but have know idea how chronic depression and adhd and other shit work #and i dont have the fucking energy to mask every day at work #like i barely get what i get done done and have energy to procure food and do basicness of hygiene to not #ugh #feel so fuckin helpless #and escapism is great to a point but fuck the real world just sucks even worse

[stargazer-sims]

Making breakfast and bring it to your bed - for Victor and Yuri thanks

Thanks @dandylion240 ! All of these prompts are so cute. I'm glad you asked me one, because I couldn't decide which one(s) I wanted to do first. I really enjoyed doing this one, and I think I'll try to choose a few more to do, and set them in the same general time period.

Anyway, I'm putting this one under a cut because it's long. Enjoy!

__________

Yuri cracks an egg and watches with a strange kind of fascination as its contents plop into the clear glass bowl on the counter in front of him. He can't help marvelling at himself, at all the ways in which he's changed. There was a time when he wouldn't have touched an egg, let alone broken one open. The mere thought of the slimy egg white and squishy yolk would've sent him running for the nearest restroom with his stomach trying to turn itself inside out.

Amused at the memory of his squeamish former self, he wipes a bit of egg off his fingers with a paper towel and then drops both it and the eggshell into the trash bin. Careful not to get any on himself this time, he cracks two more eggs into the bowl and begins to whisk them. When he's satisfied that the yolks and whites are well blended, he adds some milk. A splash of vanilla extract goes in next, followed by a dash of nutmeg and a generous pinch of cinnamon.

Yuri knows this recipe by heart now. French toast is on Victor's list of favourite things to have for breakfast, and although Yuri himself isn't a fan, he's learned to make it because it's one of the simple pleasures in Victor's life. When they first met fifteen years ago, Yuri recognized almost straight away that Victor was the sort of person who knew how to take joy where he found it, even in the smallest of occurrences. He's still like that, always ready to appreciate the little things and to find reasons to be happy and grateful.

Yuri likes doing things to make his husband smile. Breakfast in bed should be a nice surprise for him this morning, especially after returning home from what Yuri can only infer was a particularly difficult overnight shift.

Victor got back from his shift at the hospital less than an hour ago. After giving Yuri a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, he'd gone straight upstairs to shower and sleep. On most mornings after a night shift, he doesn’t go to bed immediately. After showering, he normally makes his way back downstairs to share breakfast with Yuri and chat about their respective evenings. He does most of the talking. Yuri typically doesn't have much to say since he's often in bed by the time Victor leaves, but he's content to listen to Victor's anecdotes about cute or funny patients and his recounting of the daily drama of the paediatric unit's staff.

When Victor doesn't want to talk about his night, Yuri knows it must've been a rough one. Victor copes with the stress of caring for sick and injured children fairly well, and Yuri thinks he's figured out how not to become too emotionally invested in his patients, but Victor is a loving and sensitive person and besides, no one is completely immune to the psychological effects of trauma and tragedy.

Only a week ago, he'd come home crying because one of his new patients that day was a six year old girl who'd lost her father in a car crash involving a drunk driver. He'd barely been able to get that much information out before he was full-on sobbing in Yuri's arms. The only other coherent phrase Yuri had caught was, "She's called Caroline."

Victor's younger sister's name was Caroline. Thirty years ago, when he was just six years old, he'd lost her and their father in a collision with an impaired driver. His patient's circumstances had obviously overwhelmed him, and if he wasn't ready to talk, Yuri understood why.

The best thing to do, Yuri knows, is to let Victor come to him when he feels comfortable. Often, they'll be curled up in bed together and Victor will tell him in subdued tones about the death of a patient, the raw anger, fear or grief of a parent, or the crushing cosmic injustice of a child suffering with an incurable disease.

Yuri doesn't say anything, because Victor doesn't want sympathy or advice. All he wants is for someone to hear him and comfort him, to help him let the bad thoughts go. Yuri is more than willing to do that. He just holds him and tells him he's brave and says how proud he is of him.

With the egg mixture ready, Yuri turns his attention to cutting up some fruit. He wants everything else to be prepared before he cooks the French toast, so he can plate it and take it upstairs while it's still hot. The eggs probably have enough protein, so he doesn't bother with any side meat, but he does cut some cubes of cheese and arranges them alongside the slices of orange and quartered strawberries.

Soon, the kitchen is filled with the scent of the sizzling French toast. It smells heavenly, and he wishes fleetingly that he could appreciate the flavour as much as he appreciates the aroma.

Three golden slices of French toast and a tall glass of cold milk later, the preparations are complete. Almost.

Struck by sudden inspiration, Yuri hurries out the back door and into the yard. In late May, his garden is already in bloom and it’ll only grow more vibrant and beautiful as spring brightens into summer.

He studies the flowers for a few seconds. The tulips are blossoming in abundance. He carefully picks a red one — Victor’s favourite colour — and brings it back to the house.

Laying the red tulip on the breakfast tray next to the utensils rolled in a white cloth napkin, Yuri decides the meal looks perfect. He carries the entire thing upstairs.

The door of Victor's room is partially open, as if he were anticipating Yuri joining him. When Yuri steps across the threshold, he notices that Victor is in bed, but he's certain he isn't sleeping. The blankets are pulled up to his neck and he's curled on his side, facing away from the door. Victor doesn't like to sleep curled up like that. He has a tendency to sprawl, and he doesn't like to have his arms under the blankets for whatever reason.

The chunky bedside table is just large enough to accommodate the breakfast tray, and Yuri sets it down.

"Victor?" He says his husband's name quietly, so as not to startle him.

Victor rolls onto his back. He opens his eyes, and upon seeing Yuri, he offers a tiny smile. "Hello again."

"Are you okay?" Yuri asks him.

"I'm okay. Just tired."

"I made breakfast for you."

Victor angles his gaze toward the bedside table, and his reaction at seeing the tray of food is absolutely not what Yuri expects. In the space of a heartbeat, his eyes fill with tears. Victor has always cried easily, but this is unusual and alarming.

"Victor, what's wrong?" Yuri asks, anxious as to what it could be.

"Nothing," Victor replies. He sniffles. "Nothing's wrong. It's just... I really love you. I love that you thought of bringing me breakfast in bed."

Yuri climbs onto the bed and slips under the covers with him. It's immediately obvious that Victor wants to be cuddled more than he wants food, and Yuri doesn't hesitate to oblige. Victor rests his head on Yuri's chest, and Yuri combs his fingers through his soulmate's beautiful silver hair. Victor cries softly for a few minutes, but eventually he settles beneath Yuri's gentle touch.

"Okay?" Yuri asks, once he realizes Victor's tears have subsided.

"Yeah," Victor says.

"I love you."

"I know. Even if you never said the words, I'd know. It's what keeps me going, having you to come home to. Like, when the whole world feels as if it's spinning out of control, as long as I've got you, I always know there's a safe place for me."

"Was it bad last night?"

Victor nods. "Yeah, it was. We lost a patient. A little boy. Nine years old."

"I'm sorry," Yuri says.

"And then there's Caroline," Victor continues. "The little blind girl who got admitted last week. You know, the one from the car crash? Dr. Reid-Mayfield told me they're going to have to discharge her into foster care. I mean, I know that's how it goes, but like... she doesn't speak English, and she's just been through all this horrible stuff, and..." He trails off, as if he's suddenly run out of words. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Yuri reassures him. "She's gotten into your head, hasn't she?"

"Maybe into my heart would be more accurate," Victor says. "That's not supposed to happen, but I guess I let my guard down."

"Perhaps it happened for a reason."

"I don't know," Victor says, and Yuri thinks his tone sounds more pensive than doubtful.

They're quiet for several minutes after that, until the silence is broken by Victor's stomach growling audibly. Yuri has to stifle a laugh as Victor murmurs, "Shh..." as if his body might actually respond.

"Let me guess," Yuri says. "You're too comfortable now to sit up and eat?"

"No, I'm definitely ready to eat. I just wish I could be comfortable and full at the same time."

Yuri finally lets his laughter out. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you have your breakfast before it gets too cold? I'll stay in here with you, and then afterwards we can cuddle as long as you like. Then you can be comfortable and full at the same time."

"Don't you have to go to work?" Victor inquires.

"It's Saturday, love," Yuri reminds him.

"Oh. Right. Night shift rotations totally mess with my sense of time."

"Fortunately for you, you're on early shift for the next two rotations."

"Yeah," Victor confirms. "And I've got three days off now, so my brain can recover before I have to go back." He rolls away from Yuri and sits up. Then, he reaches for the breakfast tray and positions it on his lap. "This looks amazing, by the way."

"Thank you," Yuri says. "Here's hoping it tastes as good as it looks."

"What are you talking about? French toast is your specialty."

Judging by the way he devours it, Victor's initial assessment of the French toast must be correct. He shares the fruit with Yuri, feeding him pieces of strawberry with his chopsticks.

Yuri recalls a time in the past when his doctor had put a strict ban on Victor feeding him anything. He's never had the best relationship with food and eating, and when he refused to eat on his own back then, Victor had fed him. It'd grown into a dangerous habit that they'd been forced to break in the cause of literally saving Yuri's life.

They still stick to the rules for the most part, but these days they're both confident enough not to be concerned about a small indulgence here and there. Yuri likes the attention, and although Victor probably wouldn't admit it, Yuri is convinced he likes to baby him sometimes. In any case, Yuri isn't about to complain.

Victor places the tray on the floor beside the bed once he's done eating, and then he and Yuri snuggle under the blankets again. When Victor kisses him, Yuri tastes maple syrup. He smiles against Victor's mouth and whispers, "You taste wonderful."

"Like dessert?" Victor says.

"Mmm..."

"So, what you're really saying is that breakfast in bed isn't over yet? You brought me more than French toast?"

Yuri isn't so lacking in awareness as to believe Victor has forgotten everything he carried home from the hospital in his mind, nor that he's forgotten their earlier conversation. They may revisit it again later, but Victor has the enviable ability to live in the moment and right now he clearly isn't dwelling on his worries and fears.

Breakfast in bed, it seems, is indeed not over yet.

#sapphire answers #writing #writing prompt #oc asks #yuri okamoto #victor nelson #stargazersims

[emma-nation]

The Curse Of Hackett's Quarry

Chapter 2 - The Hermit

Summary: After the events of a traumatic night, Emma Mountebank finds out she still a werewolf. While she learns how to deal with this new reality, new problems and feelings come to surface. Pairings: Emma/Abi, Emma/f!OC

Notes: Thanks for the comments and likes. It means a lot to me as it's the first fic I'm writing after a long break. I hope you enjoy what I've been planning for the next chapters! :)

Full Story:

The Hermit card generally indicates a period of soul-searching, introspection and solitude. A period of isolation attempting to heal from a difficult situation. 

The morning after her first transformation, Emma had a hard time cleaning herself before heading back to her dorm in college. She was so exhausted and sick that she missed classes for the next two days.

The second transformation by the end of October wasn't any easier, but she was more prepared this time. She knew what to expect and had enough time to improve the safety measures.

The third transformation was a little less painful. Emma started working out regularly, increasing it significantly by the week of the transformation. She wanted to run a few tests and it worked. The impact of the shifting was more bearable when her body was in a better shape. 

The last full moon of 2021 was the most terrible of all, considering Emma got very sick after waking up in the woods with her clothes torn off, during a cold Winter morning. 

She had never escaped from her restraints, so far. And with her mother being a dentist surgeon, she had no trouble stealing sedatives to keep the creature drowsy. Her priority at the moment was to find somewhere safe and warm where she could transform without any risks to herself or to other people. 

In her old bedroom, at her parents' house, she felt comfortable recording a video again. Not to post online or to show anyone. But she had to vent about everything that was going on.

"People are finally starting to forget about that fucking incident at that cursed Summer Camp. My respects to Mr. H and his family - I hope they found peace, but…" It was sincere. Emma liked Chris and his kids. She lamented their Summer ended in such a tragedy. She didn't know the rest of the family, but the other counselors, who had closer encounters with them, were scared. They seemed kinda dangerous. "I haven't. I'm not allowed to move on. That night will never end, at least for me."

At least the journalists stopped trying to contact Emma or her parents again. The negative comments about her around the internet decreased too. After an episode of the 'Bizarre Yet Bonafide' podcast about Hackett's Quarry Summer Camp, more people started to believe their innocence.

"Everyone else is moving on with their lives - Abi is going to Art School, Kaitlyn is traveling the world, Ryan has started his own podcast, Nick is taking a sabbatical year, Dylan is studying quantum physics and Jacob… well, fuck Jacob. I blocked him everywhere. The thing is, I wish I could do the same. But instead I'm… surviving. I'm learning to adapt to this new fucked up reality."

She hadn't told any of the other counselors she was still infected. No one had called her in months. Yet, she'd check their socials on a daily basis, searching for signs any of them could be struggling with the same issue. Which wasn't happening, after all she was the only one who was bitten by Silas Vorez. 

"And the question remains… if Silas is dead, why am I still infected?"

January 2022

There was a reminder flashing on Emma's cell phone screen. Full Moon. That was the reason why she had spent the whole morning working out hard. Now, she was starving and ready to devour as much food as she could. Her appetite had increased significantly that one time. 

"Hey, Abi," Emma attempted to call her best friend again while she followed to the campus restaurant. "How have you been? I… I'd love to hear from you. I can't wait to hear everything about Art School. Call me."

"Hello, Red Hood," she heard a familiar voice right behind her. Penelope Dalton. One of the popular girls who wouldn't leave Emma alone. "Who's Abi?"

She ignored the question. Back in High School, she used to be one of the popular girls too and she knew exactly how annoying and cruel they could be.

"Maybe she hasn't called yet because she was taken by the Big Bad Wolf," added Christina, one of Penelope's friends, raising giggles from the rest of their cliqué.

"Or maybe," Penelope continued, "she's a decent person who stood up by her friend, Jacob. After all, we know who caused that bloody fight in the camp, after a Truth or Dare game."

The incoming transformation always triggered Emma's worst moods. The mention of Jacob's name still ignited something inside her, feelings she was trying to bury. She automatically felt her skin burning, as well as the adrenaline pumping in her veins.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

Emma attempted to close her eyes and take a deep breath, fighting the urge to go feral and teach that girl a lesson. 

"Or what? Are you going to kill me and cry wolf ?"

Her attempt to be funny raised laughs. People were starting to reunite around them to watch the fight. 

Less than one second later, Emma's fist hit Penelope right in the eye. It'd certainly leave a nasty bruise.

"Your psychotic bitch! Look what you've done!"

Penelope advanced in her direction, pinning her to the ground, where she started pulling her hair. Emma's reflexes were increased due to her incoming transformation. Although Penelope was taller, soon Emma managed to switch positions and get on top of the girl, slapping her face hard.

It didn't take long for the campus security to arrive. In the end, Penelope only signed an incident report and Emma was punished with a disciplinary suspension. She was also warned about her recurring absences. 

During High School, Emma spent all those four years dreaming of college. Now, she didn't know if she wanted to be there anymore. She still could pursue her acting career without that.

After that Full Moon, she decided she wanted a break to find herself again. She decided to quit college and find herself a job. 

It wasn't an easy task. Not because she wasn't skilled, but whenever people ran a background check, she'd get rejected. People were still afraid of the negative attention her presence could bring.

That small diner in the heart of New York City was her last resort. 

"Name?" The owner, Addison Davies, asked while taking notes on a paper.

"Emma," she told, making a pause before adding her last name. "Mountebank."

The woman didn't seem to be paying too much attention, what gave her some hope. Maybe she wouldn't research her criminal records after all. 

"Do you have any experience as a waitress, Emma?"

"No, but I'm a quick learner. I'm also an aspiring actress, which means I have a lot of charisma dealing with people."

She was about to speak about her experience as counselor, where all the kids adored her. But she stopped herself. 

"An aspiring actress?"

"Yes. I signed up for a few auditions but while I don't have anything in sight, I need another source of income."

"When can you start?"

"Right now?" Emma furrowed her brows, already expecting another rejection.

It didn't happen. Either that woman didn't read the news or she really didn't care. 

"Great, come with me and I'll show you what to do."

Addison was very satisfied to see how good she was doing and how quick she learned. She never asked any questions about Emma's past. She even agreed to give her an extra day off, during one specific day of the month. 

Getting a new place to live was Emma's next goal. Her parents weren't happy when she dropped out of college. Living under the same roof was becoming impossible. They argued most part of the time. For many years, Emma did everything to please her parents and fulfill their expectations, but right now, she had other priorities in mind.  

During her free time at the diner, she'd check the newspaper for announcements.

"Looking for a place to live?" Jenna was Emma's co-worker. She treated her well since the first day, giving her some useful tips. They were becoming good friends. 

"Yes, do you happen to know any?"

"One of my roommates just moved out after graduating. Ben and I could really use somebody else to help with rent."

Benjamin also worked on the diner. He was more quiet and introspective, but very friendly. 

"Do you mind if I check it tonight?"

They lived in a studio apartment. The bedroom was large and comfortable, but what caught Emma's attention the most was the basement she noticed once she entered the building. According to Jenna, it was always locked and never used by anyone. That could be the solution to all of her problems. During the Full Moon nights, she could just lock herself in there.

"Do you think the landlord would rent it for me?"

"I don't know, you could speak to him but… why?"

"I… uh… I could use some space to record my videos and rehearse for my auditions, you know?"

Jenna didn't ask any further questions. Emma spoke to the landlord in the same week she moved to the studio. After selling her car, she paid him some cash to have exclusive access to the basement. As well as the permission to make a few adjustments.

Emma had everything prepared for the next Full Moon. Metal chains to restrain her body were installed in the basement. She didn't want the risk of an accident, in case somebody ever decided to open that door to investigate possible noises. There was also a small bathroom in there that she could use to clean herself when she became human again.

"What kind of videos are you recording down here?" Ben was in the basement, holding one of the chains attached to the walls. Wondering if she had forgotten to lock the door, Emma almost dropped the supplies she was carrying downstairs - snacks, water and fresh clothes.

"Horror. I'm really into horror movies and… I've been doing some auditions for a role in the genre."

"Every once in a month?"

She let out a breath. It was obvious they'd notice someday, but she didn't expect it to be so fast.

"Huh?" In that moment, Emma prayed she was really a good actress. She forced a confused expression. "What are you talking about? I come here everyday. When you're still at the diner."

"You were in a terrible mood earlier today," Ben crossed his arms, staring at her with a suspicious look on his face. "And you're the most cheerful and energetic person I've ever met."

"Have you ever heard of PMS?"

Benjamin let out a small laugh, before adding:

"You lost control of your strength and accidentally smashed a glass in your hand this morning."

"I'm a little clumsy sometimes," Emma lied again. 

"You made a deal with our boss that you couldn't take night shifts on one specific day of the month and the following morning," she never assumed they'd notice that one detail. "Each one of these nights have Full Moons."

She raised her hands defeated. Ben didn't look scared or even upset. He didn't even show any surprise.

"Don't tell anyone. Please? I'll find another place to live. I just need some time."

"I can help you, Em."

"What?! Why?! Are you out of your mind? I have no control of myself. I'll kill you."

Benjamin sat on a chair and asked Emma to sit too, in front of him.

"West Virginia. My uncle. One night he was hunting in the woods, when he got bitten," he started telling. "At first we assumed it was an animal, but… after that he'd transform every Full Moon. We had to keep an eye on him, to prevent him from slaughtering people."

"And…" Emma stared into his eyes. "Is he cured now? Did you find a way to break the curse?"

"He went missing," Ben answered after a mournful pause. "Dead. Most likely. The neighbors started noticing something was off."

Emma swallowed dry. If she wasn't careful enough, that could be her fate too.

"Do you think anybody else noticed something is wrong about me?"

"No, I only noticed because I became familiar with the signs. But you should tell Jenna. She's at nursing school, she could help you with the tranquilizers."

And like that, her roommates became her 'Wolf Pack', as Emma liked to call them. They didn't mind covering her shifts or staying awake monitoring her werewolf form through the cameras they installed in the basement. A shotgun with silver shells was always prepared in case the worse scenario happened. 

The mornings after her transformation were the worst. Emma would feel exhausted and sore. She'd spend hours under the shower, where she'd let her emotions flow. No one had seen her crying yet. All the time, she acted tough and confident. No one could tell there was something so traumatic going on in her life. But in the loneliness of the early hours of those mornings, she felt like a scared lonely child.

April, 2022

After months of agony and misery, everything seemed to be falling in place, but Emma still couldn't feel like herself. She'd still attempt to record videos as she used to do in the past. But it wasn't the same. Her venting always came back to the same subject. She couldn't even post that online - people would assume she had definitely lost her sanity. But at least it was a good kind of therapy.

Ben and Jenna were helping her with an extensive research, but she couldn't find any clues that lead to an explanation of why she was still infected.

"Ugh," she placed her laptop away from her. "Not even the detective I hired could find any information about Eliza and Silas Vorez. It's like they never existed."

"They were probably using fake names," Ben suggested. "The woman kept the guy caged like an animal. That's certainly illegal."

"We should try a psychic someday," Jenna said. "Do you think they'd know anything about werewolves?"

"I doubt it."

"The Deep Web?"

"Oh, no. Ben taught me how to access it and I found some very… disturbing stuff there."

"I warned you about the werewolf kink," Ben said, letting out a laugh.

"Please, don't say it again," Emma made a disgusted face. "I wish I could unsee it."

"Anyways, it's your birthday tonight and we should definitely go out to celebrate."

It was the first time Emma wasn't excited for her birthday. All the previous years she'd throw wild parties and crowd her house with friends. Now, she barely left the apartment. She was either working at the diner, researching werewolves and once in a while, she'd sign up for auditions. So far, her only work as an actress was a small internet ad she did to promote Addison's diner.

"Happy birthday to me," Emma spoke to her cell phone's camera later, when she was lying in bed. "I turned nineteen today. Yay!"

"It was different from my other birthdays. I didn't get so many messages or gifts. No wild parties either. No, crazy parties actually. I don't like the word 'wild' anymore, now it reminds me of…"

She didn't finish. It was always hard to say it aloud. Even to herself. 

"I went out with Ben and Jenna to try to forget about… that thing . Sometimes I can allow myself to act like a normal girl and have some fun. I met some people during our night outs. Guys and girls too. But dating is not an option right now."

"I mean… how am I supposed to even squeeze a relationship among all this crazy shit that has been happening to me? I know some freaks have a werewolf kink but I bet they'd run away the second I burst into that bloody mess of a monster."

"There's one person though… nevermind."

She turned off the camera. The person she had in mind hadn't even called her yet. Not even to wish her a happy birthday. 

June, 2022

It was the beginning of another Summer. Almost one year had passed since that last night at Summer Camp. Emma was on her lunch break when got a call from an unknown number. Her heart skipped a beat - she was expecting a call about an audition she had done a few days later. But she never imagined the voice on the other side of the line would ruin that little balance she was attempting to keep in her inner world.

"Emma? It's me, Abi."

"A-Abi?" The corners of her mouth curled up in a smile. "It's… uh… it's been a long time. How have you been?"

"I'm home from college and I was wondering if you'd like to hangout."

#the quarry #emma mountebank #abigail blyg #blygbank #emma x abi #emma x f!oc #the quarry fanfiction

[brucethewannabebard]

Tragic

I started learning Japanese recently. Only been about a week so far, but I am keeping up with the daily lessons so I hope it will stick. I think part of me is learning it so I can keep the idea of moving across the world as an option when I know it really isn't. But the idea that I could start fresh somewhere completely new has a form of escapist comfort to it. It is unfortunate that it took such a terrible experience to bring me to this point of finally trying something new. Even more unfortunate that part of me is only doing it as a form of survival. Really it just seemed like something engaging and productive to lose myself in. I am having far more fun learning it so far than I ever had at previous attempts to learn another language, and I find myself wanting to talk about all the little details I am learning with someone. Which of course made me think of you.

Because I used to talk to you about these fascinations of mine. My hobbies, thoughts, facts that I found interesting. Of course now I know that you didn't actually enjoy being on the receiving end of those conversations, just you were good at hiding it. Which is a devastating thing to remember when in the middle of an otherwise good time. But even so I can't help but think that if this were the good old days you would be learning it with me. We would be using the new words and phrases in our day to day and making fun of each other when we mispronounced something. I can't help but miss you despite everything you did to me.

Of course the real irony is I wouldn't even be learning it now if you hadn't broken me like you did. I would still be muddling through my day oblivious to how little I actually matter to you, and you would still be constantly making me sacrifice my goals and hold myself back so you wouldn't have to make any changes or compromise. So really I am missing time with you that I literally would have never experienced anyways. And perhaps, that is the real tragedy.

#sad #nostalgic #missing someone #heart break #sorrow #learning #language #japanese #growth #healing #stream of consciousness #venting #thoughts in the wind #maybe one day #this won't hurt so much

[steveskafte]

LOW AND HAPPY I'm depressed. Not clinically or anything, don't spent my days staring out the window or not wanting to get out of bed. It's not a physical problem, but a persistent mental perspective. I just always get focused on curious downsides, obsessive over wanting more than my mood provides me. I'm depressed, but I never saw it as something to get sad about. I'd describe it more like blunted emotion, experience not quite living up to expectation. I've seen incredible views and thought: "Eh, it's all right." I've watched beautiful sunsets and said: "I've seen better." There are days when I sense a sort of sociopath in me, when nothing holds meaning, and no joy or tragedy inspires much reaction. People I care about tell me important events in their lives, and I wonder why it doesn't move me much. There are effusive experiences in my life, absolutely – moments that show up like sudden impacts in my heart. But until I started my daily journal, those times would be absent for weeks on end. I was always looking for a way to fight back, to grab me by the shoulders and shake. The best method turned out to be a consistent project, one that never let my heart off the hook for long. The first year of words and pictures was sporadically compelling, sometimes full of joy, sometimes just a drag I drug me through. But it slowly encapsulated that low tide state of mind, made it shorter and more manageable, able to appreciate a briefer beauty in some way. That's why I'm always adventuring, looking for things to spark the brighter feeling buried. I'm as much in search of sensation as any physical place to find. It's hard not to overvalue intensity when you tend toward disconnection. Constantly returning to reliable stimulation is tough to shake, though I've tried my best to shy short of addictions. I could say a lot about men who use sex as a replacement for emotion, or any other adrenaline rush on offer – but that wouldn't be far from myself. Youth can spark the drive to outrun a hollow heart, lasting just long enough for age to bring you down. I'd rather start learning a mellow happiness now, a dim and beautiful place that feels like depression, but content. I could count on one hand when I've been low and happy. One that comes to mind was with my wife in Greece, on the island of Mykonos. I spent an entire afternoon at the beach with Susy, doing nearly nothing. Lying in the sun, watching it track slowly into evening. I wasn't feeling much, but what I felt was right. August 22, 2022 Bear River, Nova Scotia Year 15, Day 5398 of my daily journal.

[dailyaudiobible]

08/22/2022 DAB Transcript

Job 1:1-3:26, 1 Corinthians 14:1-17, Psalms 37:12-29, Proverbs 21:25-26

Today is the 22nd day of August welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it’s great to be here with you. I’m here in the rolling hills of Tennessee and you are where you are, but we are still together around the Global Campfire as we take the next step forward. We have just begun yesterday the book of Job, which kinda laid out the context of the story. Job's friends have come to his side. They have sat for a week in silence. Job has begun to speak about how he wishes he had never been born. And now today we will begin to hear from Job's friends. And Job, of course, a conversation is beginning. Job chapters 4, 5, 6, and seven today.

Commentary:

Okay. So, in the book of Job, we…as we were talking about the beginning, we've learned what happened to Job. We saw Job have the worst day that really I can even imagine. He literally lost everything, including his children in a day. In like wave after wave or blow-by-blow these disasters coming and before the days over Job is in a life that doesn't look like his life at all, but we also began to understand who Job is by watching what he does once he receives blow after blow of tragedy. He greev. It's terrible. He tears his clothes. He throws ashes on his head. He falls to the ground. We can imagine all that. But then he worships says essentially everything that I have was given to me. The Lord is given, the Lord has taken away. Blessed to be the name of the Lord, which is indeed a riveting way to begin a book. And then his wife, you know, he's got all these sores and boils and his wife tells him to curse God and die. What a horrible thing to say to your spouse. And Job doesn't call her names are curse her or any of the…or send her away or anything like that. He says, should we not receive the bad with the good? And then Job's friends, they make their journey and they come and sit with Job and as we read yesterday they sat in silence for a week until Job spoke, which is what they were waiting for. This is the practice called Shiva, which is a way of being in grief with someone. It’s just a little different than the customs that we are accustomed to during grief. In Shiva, you come, and you do exactly what his friends did, you sit. You sit with the person who has been devastated and you sit, and there’s no pressure to say the right thing. You're not really supposed to say anything. And there's no pressure on the grieving person to then have to become the caretaker of those who are here to take care of them and make them feel okay and take care of their needs and…and speak and tell them that everything’s gonna be okay. Nobody's expecting anything. And, so, we sit in silence and what you are offering is more potent and more powerful than anything you could say. You are offering your presence. You showed up. You’re there. You’re present in it. And when the grieving person wants to speak you speak and when they want to eat you eat. When they don't want to talk, you don't talk. When they want to sleep they sleep. And this is what we’re…it's beautiful, really. And this wat we’re seeing playing out in the book of Job, as his friends come to be with him in his moment of absolute devastation. And then the conversation began. Job who spoke first. That's what everyone was waiting for, and he said he wished he’d never been born. And we hear the first response from one of Job's friends. His name is Eliphaz and he's trying to comfort Job. And his message to Joe is basically that things happen for a reason and that if he would trust in God the Lord would certainly be merciful and rescue and restore him, which sounds like the kinds of things that we say when we’re trying to be the voice of comfort. And that's a really interesting thing about Job. Job's friends say the kinds of things that we say. It's just in this case, Job isn't…it's not that he's not accepting what they're saying, he just becomes more and more agitated about it because they can't say anything that he's actually looking for. They aren't able to provide the answers that he seeks. He has been on the other side before. He has been the one offering words of comfort. In this case he knows what can be said and he knows what human wisdom can provide and if they're not able to provide something beyond that, it’s not that he doesn't care if they're there it's just they're not helping him. Job wants God to personally explain exactly what it is that he did wrong because he feels like judgment is upon them from the hand of God, and he doesn't know why. And, so, as we continue in these days in front of us in the book of Job let's watch both sides of this. Let’s watch what his friends are telling Job and understand that there’d be some familiar things there. Let's also watch Job and how he responds and how as they his friends lay out all of their wisdom, he is more and more clear that they don't have what he is looking for. He wants an audience with God. He just doesn't know where to find Him, but he will as we will see soon enough.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. We thank You for all of the different complexions of it and all of the different nuances of it and…and the way that it speaks into our souls no matter what we are experiencing. And in this case now we are in a time where we are experiencing words about suffering, words about cosmic justice, things that we wonder about, things that we don't understand, things that we wrestle and grapple with. And, so, Holy Spirit come and lead us forward. Give us insight, give us awareness, take us further and deeper we ask in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com, that's homebase, it is the website, it's where you can find out what's going on around here. The Daily Audio Bible app does the same thing. You just push the Drawer icon in the upper left-hand corner and that pops open the drawer and then you can navigate from there. If you don't have the Daily Audio Bible app, today is a good day, it's a decent day anyway to check it out. Try it out. Just search for Daily Audio Bible in the app store that is associated with whatever device that you use, and you should be able to find it and download it for free from there.

Check out the different sections of the website or in the app like the Community section. There are links in the Community section to get connected on social media, which is not a bad idea, especially if we have announcements and stuff. If you’re kinda following along then those will probably show up in your feed. It’s quite an art to get things to show up in people's feed, right? But if you're following along than it probably will show up in yours and so you can daily be encouraged or just confining what's going on around here. So, the links are there in the Community section of the app or the website. But also, in the Community section you'll find the Prayer Wall. And the Prayer Wall is, as I have described it many times, always on, never off, always available to us. No matter where we are in life or on this earth, we can always go there and share what's going on and ask our brothers and sisters no matter where they are to pray for us. But it’s also a place that we can go and hear the stories from our brothers and sisters and pray for them and let them know that they're not alone and that we are praying for them. That is such an important distinctive of the community here around the Global Campfire. It's such a unique thing actually. Been doing it long enough now to kinda know, like no, this is…this is rare, this is special. We’re moving through the Scriptures together in community. We are all human beings, and we all understand that we’re being challenged by the word of God every day and that we all have our struggles and for some reason we’re willing to love each other through them in community as we show up around the Global Campfire every day. The things that we have shared with each other are so transparent. Over the years it's miraculous to me sometimes that we’ve found a place where we can actually open our hearts and know that our brothers and sisters actually care about us and are walking the journey with us. And, so, certainly check out the Prayer Wall.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, thank you. Thank you humbly as we navigate another summer. Thank you for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you are using the app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner, or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app. That's the little red button up at the top. Looks kinda...looks kinda like a hotline...only thing that looks like a hotline, so you probably can’t go wrong, little red button up at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Coming soon…

[bbangsoonie]

good for nothing

member: juyeon genre: angst (royal au) word count: 4,635 synopsis: despite being the first born and the kingdom’s princess, you lived your whole life in the shadow of the crown prince born to a concubine. in your plot for revenge, a fool in love comes along your path. warning(s): violence

kingdom masterlist

Princess Y/n. You were the first born of the king and queen, educated beyond societal standards for girls, and incredibly beautiful. Yet, you were disregarded and looked down on since the moment you were born. Your brother, who was born to a concubine, was the crown prince and received much greater respect. The reason? You were a girl. A good-for-nothing girl as your father called you on multiple occasions.

The king was ashamed to have his first born be a daughter. He also felt threatened by your rejection of the status quo. Because of this, he grabbed every opportunity to make you submit to him.

You were exceptionally smart but no one cared to notice. Your desire to learn was ignored and you were forced to embroider butterfly patterns instead. At a young age, you realized your place. You knew your designated fate was to be a political pawn meant to be married off at a beautiful age. To protect the royal family that never considered you as one of their own, you were to marry a complete stranger one day.

However, just because you realized your place didn’t mean you accepted it. You defied the rules at every chance you saw. You remained a headache for the king, but a small enough headache to avoid his wrath.

Unbeknownst to him, you were well versed with the dirty politics of the country. Ever since you were a little girl, you would eavesdrop into the ministers’ conversations and manipulate the eunuchs to take a peak at written grievances sent to the king. You knew about the starving peasants he ignored and the bribes he received. As you grew older, you became hungry for power. When it became apparent that the king was blocking any hope for you, you were determined to take as many people down with you. You refused to suffer alone.

The king always berated you for being greedy. Greedy for education. Greedy for acknowledgement. Greedy for a life that was more than just being a good wife. He reminded you again and again that you would never have a voice in official affairs.

Every time you left his chamber after another lecture, you made sure to humiliate the embarrassment the kingdom called the crown prince. You would outshine him one way or another. Whether it be pointing out his grammar mistakes in front of the scholars or exposing his secret palace escapes to the queen, you would dampen his mood for the day. It was the only thing that gave you a speck of joy.

There was also only one thing that gave you something to look forward to. For years, you had been conspiring against the royal family. You despised the royal family and its classist, sexist, and pretentious values. You planned on getting rid of it once and for all. The kingdom deserved a leader that would rule benevolently. Slowly but surely, you gained the loyalty of several ministers. Soon enough, you would be able to execute the meticulous coup d'état.

But until then, you had to continue to be nothing but the king’s puppet. Which included meeting your fiancé. You were introduced a week ago and wedding preparations were already in full swing.

The man you would be forced to wed, Lee Juyeon, was the first son of the Chief State Councillor. You didn’t like him the moment you saw him. He was a pretty face that grew up with his father’s full love and support. He was both elegant and masculine; he was the definition of perfect and you hated it. A person had to have flaws to be likeable.

For some crazy reason you couldn’t wrap your mind around, Juyeon was infatuated with you. He visited the palace every day just to have you decline his request for a meeting. He was persistent.

Unfortunately for you, he was also crafty. He figured out that announcing his arrival to the king was an effective way to see your face. The king was delighted to see the Chief State Councillor’s son head over heels for his daughter and thus, to your annoyance, daily meetings were arranged for you two.

“Tell me, Lord Lee, what about me is worthy of your obsession?” you asked.

You were sitting at one of the gardens within the palace walls. He had insisted on the location because of its romantic beauty.

“Then tell me, Your Highness, what about me is not to your liking?” he grinned.

“Do you wish to hear the answer of the princess or the answer of Y/n?” you raised a brow, making him laugh.

“You amuse me, Princess Y/n,” he turned his head to look at the pond.

You sighed, wondering how long you had until you could return to your residence. The man next to you was oblivious to your feelings as he rambled on about the dates he wanted to take you on. He caught your attention when he mentioned sneaking you out of the palace for half a day.

“You would really risk taking me outside of the palace?” you perked up.

He was excited to see you finally engaged in the conversation and nodded profusely. He promised to set up an elaborate plan for a smooth date. Grudgingly, you accepted his offer. Your wish to see the village overwhelmed your wish to avoid your soon-to-be consort.

The next day, a court lady secretly found you to notify you of his plans. To evade the eyes of palace maids, you were to escape through a path not commonly used. She helped you scale the wall and you froze when you saw Juyeon on the other side. You sat on top of the wall and he extended his hand for support. With a tight smile, you held his hand and jumped down.

He pulled the veil over your face to keep your identity hidden, blushing when his hand slightly brushed your cheek. He hopped onto the horse and gestured for you to do the same. Hesitantly, you held his hand again to climb on.

Using the excuse of maintaining balance, he urged you to hold on tightly. You weren’t left with an option when he sped up, prompting you to instinctively hug his waist. You didn’t have to see his face to know that he was smiling like a fool.

At last, you finally arrived at the village. Fascinated at the change in environment, you looked like a child surrounded by toys. Chuckling, Juyeon admired the view in front of him. In his eyes, you were prettier than any flower and sweeter than any candy. Feeling his gaze on you, you cleared your throat and began walking.

There was so much to look at. He caught you staring at the rows of yeot and purchased the confectionery without you asking. You immediately popped one into your mouth and he laughed when your cheeks expanded to resemble a squirrel.

“Are you teasing me?” you frowned.

“No, I am appreciating your adorable and lovely appearance,” he answered as he handed you the bag holding the rest of the yeot. His words didn’t fluster you. You simply rolled your eyes and resumed walking.

His long legs were quick to catch up with you. Enjoying your presence, he watched as you fawned over little trinkets. It was a new side of you that he had never seen.

Stopping at an accessory shop, you scanned the norigaes displayed on the table. One of them caught your eye and you held it up for a closer look. It was a beautiful pale pink color that perfectly matched your current hanbok.

“It seems a norigae is better at capturing your heart than I am,” Juyeon pouted.

“Perhaps it is prettier than you,” you shrugged.

“Is this an implication that I am pretty? To a certain extent?” he beamed.

“How do my words become that?” you exclaimed.

With another laugh, he took the accessory from your grasp and went to pay for it. You blinked at the sudden sight of his back, noticing for the first time how broad his shoulders were. When he came back to your side, he held the norigae in front of you but pulled it back when you reached out for it. He pointed at the bag of yeot and opened his mouth. Baffled, you turned around to walk away.

He caught your wrist and spun you back around. He bent down and your face stopped an inch away from his. His usual shy self was gone and he had a confident smirk on his lips.

“Does your heart not sway even at a close distance like this?” he asked. This time, he caught you off guard. When you finally came back to your senses, you hurriedly shoved a piece of yeot into his mouth and stormed off.

“Y/n, you make me laugh too hard and too much!” you heard his voice call out, making you blush crimson with embarrassment.

With your upcoming wedding looming over your head, it became increasingly difficult to communicate with the ministers. There were too many eyes to be wary of. Juyeon, of course, was one of them.

As you spent more time with him, you realized how sentimental he was. He brought you small, meaningful gifts and loved to tell you about the meanings behind each flower.

“Did you know that the plum blossom is one of the indications of spring's arrival?” he asked one day. “They can bloom as early as late March.”

“I think it is quite obvious that it is spring,” you commented, pointing at the variety of flowers surrounding you.

“My personal favorite flower is the rose of sharon,” he continued. “It is nicknamed the “immortal flower” and means “eternal blossom that never fades” because of its resilience. It regrows despite harsh conditions and even after it is damaged. Amazing, isn’t it?”

You hummed, looking for the flower he was talking about.

“I used to hope that our kingdom would take after the flower. We have survived through many tragedies and I hope that we will survive through anything else that tries to beat us down,” his words pricked you for some reason. Would your rebellion be seen as a tragedy or as a heroic deed?

“Now, I like to think that our love will be like the rose of sharon. My love for you will never fade and I will continue to pine after you despite your harsh words. Even if you hurt me, my feelings will transcend time,” he smiled. “The flower does not bloom until July. My wish is to go see them with you. Would you bless me with your presence when the time comes?”

You observed his lovestruck expression and couldn’t bring yourself to say no. Again, you were at a loss trying to understand why he was so besotted with you. His childlike innocence was almost pure to a fault in a place like the palace.

“I shall consider it if you teach me how to swing a sword,” you proposed.

He couldn’t hide both his shock and happiness. He was confused as to why you wanted to ever hold a weapon but glad that you were slowly opening up to him. Without a second thought, he agreed to your proposition.

Juyeon was full of bliss at the thought of spending more time with you. Teaching you swordsmanship would allow him to be intimate with you and he was thrilled. At your first secret lesson, his heart raced at your proximity as he guided your hands on how to properly wield the blade.

A week passed by and you quickly improved each day. Eventually, you became skilled enough to land a fake jab. Seeing your proud smile, he grinned as well.

“I guess I should be on edge now. If I annoy my princess one too many times, my life will literally be at your hands,” he joked.

“Do you regret training me?” you smirked.

“Ah, was this all a part of your plan?” he pretended to gasp. “Either to kill me off or to threaten me to obedience?”

Not finding his joke funny, you blankly stared at him. Noticing the sudden chill in the atmosphere, he awkwardly laughed.

“Do not worry, Your Highness. I will always do as you say. You do not need a sword to make me behave.” he smiled.

You hated to admit it but he had grown on you. His constant attempts to tear down your wall had finally made a crack. You had to stop before he became your weakness.

For the first time in a while, you were summoned to the king’s chamber. Expecting another reprimand, you dreaded the walk there. To your surprise, however, you were greeted with a smile he hadn’t given you in years. It kind of freaked you out.

“You called for me, Your Majesty?” you bowed.

“I hear you have been getting along wonderfully with the Chief State Councillor’s son. Finally, you are fulfilling your duty as this kingdom’s princess,” he commended.

What a back-handed compliment. You wanted to roll your eyes at his passive aggressiveness. Holding back your urges, you politely smiled instead.

“I just wanted to let you know that I will be in a hurry to complete your wedding. I need the Chief State Councillor’s support to find a suitable wife for the crown prince,” he announced.

“Is my marriage merely a way for the crown prince to find a wife with a powerful family?” you shot back.

Your question turned the mood scarily sour. You felt his anger rise as he chastised you for your impudence and disrespect.

“The crown prince is the future leader of our kingdom. He is more than deserving of the immense care, thought, and effort that goes into picking his consort. His consort will be this kingdom’s queen and will be the one to bear the next king. You are nothing but a useless girl who will belong to a different family.”

“I am still a member of the royal family, am I not?”

“You are just a good-for-nothing girl that will leave this palace soon,” he spat. “Now leave. You are dismissed.”

On your way out, you ran into the crown prince who looked at you in a way you found to be offensive. You paused your steps and turned around.

“I wish you fertility, Crown Prince. After all, the kingdom relies on your performance to produce an heir to the throne,” you said, lacing your words with venom. “I would imagine you would hate having to adopt a nephew.”

You could tell you had gotten under his skin yet again and left satisfied. You loathed and condemned your family with a burning passion. You couldn’t wait for the day it would all come to a bitter end.

While you were brooding, you didn’t notice Juyeon sneaking up on you. When you finally saw him, you nearly jumped. Your hand reached out to cover your heart, trying to calm it down. Sheepishly, he apologized for startling you.

Trying to keep you from walking away from him, he held onto the hem of your sleeve. Your heart softened at the gentle manner he treated you with. Ignoring your instincts, you let him cling onto you. Instead of making you turn around to face him, he walked in front of you.

“Will you accompany me to the garden today as well?” he asked earnestly.

Knowing that the court ladies were watching, you reluctantly accepted his invitation once again. This time, he surprised you with a bag filled with yeot. He looked so proud of himself for remembering your love for the sweet treat that it made you laugh. As a reward, he grabbed a piece for himself. Unaware of the smudge it left on the corner of his lips, he was conscious of your gaze and tried to look attractive.

“Worry not, Your Highness. You will get to look at this face every day and every night once we marry,” he assured.

Despite his wise exterior, he had a goofy side to him. He was pure and innocent—everything you weren’t. You could see why the king favored him so much.

“I do not understand why you are so eager to become my consort,” you suddenly blurted. “You know that it is just a flashy title that does not award you with much privileges. It is an empty position; you cannot hold office without a special order from the king. Do you simply see yourself as a stepping stone for your father to bring honor to your family?”

“Is my love for you an acceptable response?” he asked after some thought.

“Is it truly worth your dangerous status as the princess’s husband and king’s son-in-law? The royal family has many enemies,” you warned.

“I will be the one to protect you from such enemies,” he declared.

Was he naive or has his affection for you blinded him?

“Princess Y/n,” he said solemnly as he held your hand. “I promise to love and protect you for as long as my heart beats. No, even after it ceases to beat, I will still yearn for you. I will not demand or expect you to do the same. Even if your feelings for me are not as strong as my feelings for you, I will not blame you. But will you please give me the chance to try to win you over?”

His confession triggered an alarm in your head. He was never supposed to fall for you this hard and you were never supposed to allow him to. He had no idea how cunning and conniving you really were. Only the people in the palace knew how cold-hearted you could be. You had to be in order to survive.

You refused to give him a reply and pulled your hand away. His face fell but he forced himself to smile again. In an attempt to break the tension, he made a random comment on the weather.

After you two parted, you decided to speed things up to initiate the revolt. Once you joined hands in marriage, Juyeon would inevitably end up a target as well. If you wanted to spare him, you needed to overthrow the corrupted royal family before he became a part of it.

It was officially the day before the insurrection. To be honest, you weren’t really nervous. This was what you had been anticipating your entire life.

Yet why did you have a moment of weakness when you saw Juyeon that afternoon? He approached you with that boyish smile that did wonders to your normally rational mind. Feeling what you believed was pity, you wanted to leave him with a pleasant memory.

So you ended up convincing him to sneak you out of the palace again. This time, you were a lot more enthusiastic. You wanted to try all the pastries and insisted that he taste them too.

“You seemed to have a lot on your mind these days,” he carefully pointed out. “Has the problem that has been bothering you been resolved now?”

“It will soon,” you eluded.

You stared at the man in front of you, observing his features. He was, without a doubt, good looking. You could see why all the court ladies, palace maids, and girls of the village were so smitten with him. But you still didn’t get why he chose you to fawn over. Maybe it was because of the lack of affection you grew up with but something about having someone care for you was unsettling.

You had suitors court you before but none of them were as devoted as Juyeon. He always came off as genuine. Perhaps his sincerity was what made you lower your guard.

“I promise to lavish you with such outings if that is what makes you happy,” he proclaimed, almost making you laugh.

“Why do you make so many vows?” you inquired.

“I am a man who keeps his word and you are the only one I give it to,” he grinned. You wondered how happy he had to be to smile so often. You rarely had reasons to be smiling.

He glanced down at the table and examined the rows of binyeos. Holding one up, he held the hair pin against your hair.

“May I gift you this binyeo?” he asked.

You pursed your lips, feeling just a tad bit of guilt. You were used to being showered with extravagance but with Juyeon, it was different. There was an emotional value attached to each present.

“Only if you promise me one other thing,” you negotiated.

“Of course. I will do anything you ask of me,” he responded.

“Promise me that you will not visit the palace tomorrow,” you said sternly. He looked at you with curiosity.

“Tomorrow is… a day of mourning for me. I do not wish to see you until the day after,” you lied.

“This is the first time you have expressed your desire to see me,” he lit up at your last sentence. “I will prepare a magnificent date for when I see you over-morrow.”

You almost felt sorry for his naiveté. And you almost—just almost—felt sorry for deceiving him.

The fateful day arrived at last. You stood, taking one last glimpse at your reflection. Subconsciously, your hand reached out to touch the binyeo in your hair.

The roars of the royal guards and the clanks of combat rumbled throughout the palace. With a determined look, you left your chamber. The sword in your clenched fist dragged across the ground as you made your way to the throne hall.

When you finally busted through the door, the king sat as if he had been waiting for you.

“I should have known that this was your doing,” he scowled. “Was your luxurious life as a princess not enough for you? Could you not fight the temptation of avarice?”

“Nothing about my life was ever comfortable,” you corrected. “I always had to play along to match your mood in order to avoid being married off to an old man just out of your spite. You tried to drill your toxic mentality in me because my individuality terrified you. You made it a point to constantly tear me down. So I made it a point to see your demise.”

“You have always been this sly ever since you were a little girl. I knew I would regret your birth the moment I saw your eyes. And I was right. You are nothing but a vile bitch.”

“For the longest time, I thought I was deserving of your hatred. But I came to the realization that you simply belittled me just for being a girl. Do not forget, Your Majesty, that the womb inside me is the same as the one that bore you the crown prince.”

Mockingly, you approached the throne. It was incredible how that one seat gave its owner immense power.

“Speaking of which, why is it that only men carry on the family name?” you questioned. “Do you not realize that women are the ones who carry on the precious bloodline you always speak of? It is the body of women that conceive and grow another human inside them. It is the body of women that suffer through labor to deliver you children and nurture them to good health. The only thing you do is spread your seeds like a fruit. And then blame women for your own infertility.”

“All throughout history, it has been men who carried on the royal bloodline. What makes you think that you are worthy of special treatment?”

“Bloodline, bloodline, bloodline,” you rolled your eyes in irritation. “Do not fool yourself. It is not blood you care about but name. Men may carry on the nameline but we are the ones who give you the royal blood pumping in your veins.”

You sloppily lifted the sword to the king’s neck, smirking.

“I knew you would be the one to bring my downfall,” he glared.

“Well, how does it feel to have all your fears come true, my king?” you taunted. “You were always afraid that I would either surpass you or ruin you. Now, I will be the one to end this damned bloodline. This good-for-nothing girl will take back the royal blood that was given to you by a woman.”

With that, you slashed his neck. Blood splattered across the wall and on your face. You grimaced, wiping away the warm liquid. You were surprisingly calm in front of such a gruesome sight. That was, until Juyeon came bursting through the door.

After he had parted from you the day before, he could not get you out of his mind. Something about your eyes had been melancholic. Your words sounded like a foreshadow and it left him feeling disturbed. So he broke his promise and went to the palace to see you again. He was alarmed to see the chaos ensuing and immediately searched for you. However, he never expected the situation he stumbled into.

“P-Princess Y/n,” he stuttered, making you aim the weapon at yourself. You never intended or wanted him to witness this.

“Do not come any closer,” you warned.

“Your Highness, please. Put the sword down,” he begged.

“I cannot,” you gulped. “This is how it must end.”

“We-we can run away. Together. We can leave everything behind and I will keep you safe,” he said as he tried his best to stay calm.

You wanted to both laugh and cry. Your life was a suicidal mission. You knew from the beginning that you would not be able to survive. If you failed, you would be executed for treason. If you succeeded, you would be executed to officially end the royal bloodline.

You had to admit, you slightly wavered at one point. Juyeon’s promise to make you happy was enticing. To someone who never strayed close to emotions before, he was like a miracle. He made you feel all sorts of things that you were glad to have experienced.

“I apologize, Lord Lee,” you sadly smiled before you stabbed the blade into your stomach.

“No!” he screamed as he ran to your side.

You slowly fell to the ground with Juyeon’s arms wrapped around your body. His hands shook above the wound as he cried, knowing that he couldn’t take it out without ensuring your death. He never thought that what he taught you would be used against yourself. If he had known that this was what you planned on using your skills for, he never would have taken your offer.

“I am afraid I will not be able to go see the rose of sharons with you,” you said as a tear escaped your eyes.

Your vision began to cloud and you felt the life in you leave with every breath you took. You didn’t even realize that your hand was gripping his clothes, crinkling it. Another tear rolled down your cheek as your head fell back, your neck unable to support it any longer.

He desperately clung onto you, holding your head in his bloodied hands.

“I will bring the flowers to you,” he affirmed.

“Another promise,” you chuckled.

“This one I will be sure to keep,” he stated as his own tears fell to your face.

Next to the weapon embedded in you was the norigae he bought you the first time you escaped the palace together. He looked up to see that you were wearing the binyeo he bought you as well. He sobbed, holding onto you tighter.

“I hope to be reborn as a rose of sharon. That way, I can come see you every spring,” you whispered before you closed your eyes for the last time.

tag list: @dearseungie​ @cuppasunu​ @reverienostalgia​ @elcie-chxn​ @parfaitz​​ @lovelyutas​ @mochinyu​ @leejaeyeons​

#deobiwritersnet #the boyz #tbz #juyeon #the boyz angst #tbz angst #juyeon angst #the boyz fics #tbz fics #juyeon fics #the boyz imagines #tbz imagines #juyeon imagines #the boyz scenarios #tbz scenarios #juyeon scenarios #lee juyeon #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon

[genshin-impacted]

empress of the first water // Zhongli x Reader (1)

Word Count: ~2.2k

Palace/Harem Imperial Drama AU: You are a princess, soon-to-be-Empress, and Zhongli is the teacher invited by the royal court to show you the ropes before you ascend to the throne after a royal tragedy. 

Notes: female!reader, eventual mutual pining, fake political maneuvers, mentions of death (yes, this is a set up to a harem drama, but Zhongli is focused in this), Zhongli POV

[Next]

hello welcome to the AU I made up; hope I finish this someday :)

“You are unfit to lead this country.”

Not two weeks after a tragedy that hits the royal family, leaving you the sole heir to the throne, that is what has been said to you over and over again. The royal court adjourns without delay, placing you in the middle of it-- though you could care less.

You hold whatever you have been able to salvage from the fire: a necklace momento from your father, the dress that your mother had woven herself. And in your hands, you hold in an urn the ashes of what remains of your family. 

There is nothing else on your mind except for the fact that you are alone as the lone heir to the throne, the only living princess of the royal bloodline, and soon-to-be Empress of a nation that you are not prepared to lead.

You just want to mourn.

.

.

.

Zhongli has lived long enough to understand that politics will always be the determining factor in which his life will be led. It does not matter what he dreams of doing or what he desires. As the only born son to one of the oldest and most prestigious families in the nation, his life has never been his own-- though he supposed no one born of royalty has ever been truly in control of their path.

Still, Zhongli finds ways to play what cards he has. He earns praises for his wide array of knowledge in tradition, politics, and culture alike, but it is easy to know something if you are interested in it. He remembers vividly when Guizhong teased him, calling him an old soul when he delved personally into the traditions of tea ceremony, of calligraphy and poetry, out of his own volition because he enjoyed learning. His skills in the polearm-- also passed down in his lineage-- have also not been neglected, for he finds that it is similar to dancing, an elegant and respectful pastime that he often admires in operas and shows that he indulges himself in. If he could do anything with his life, Zhongli thinks he would be a writer or a teacher, or possibly even a historian.

("Old man," Guizhong had said to him affectionately for the last time before she left the compound to serve her duty as a princess, like many others. "One day you'll find yourself someone who listens to you and you'll talk their ear off."

"I doubt anyone would listen to what I have to say willingly," he had said, and his friend had only given him a soft look and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

"I don't," she said.)

It has been years since he has entertained the idea of living a quiet life writing his knowledge onto paper and even longer still since had long last seen his childhood friend. Zhongli finds himself in the fray of politics that he knows so much of and has no choice but to delve into when he is invited to the royal capital.

"It is a great honor," his father had said to him, hands behind his back, "to be meeting the Princess of the royal family. Make a good impression; this is of the utmost importance."

Political maneuver, Zhongli thinks immediately, not doubting the intention of an invitation coming from the palace, especially after the incident he has been told of. A fire of great destruction, the burning of a whole wing with the royal family trapped inside-- one would think it was a plot to overthrow the Emperor, but if anyone were to stage a coup, they would have burned the inner walls of the palace where the man resides, bedridden. A great coincidence to have the royal family unable to escape, but it almost seems too malicious to call it that. Gross neglect? Bad luck? Karma? Truly, a tragedy as the death of many could not be described worse than as an accident. 

Zhongli thinks it is much too early to be moving the chess pieces so soon after half the board has been razed to the ground, but he supposed the world has never been that kind.

With a trained expression, Zhongli picks up the tea that had been brewed and takes a sip (too bitter, stepped too long, he thinks, wincing slightly, and putting the cup down). "I understand, father." He pauses for a moment and considers his words. "Is there a particular reason for this invitation?"

"The Princess is in need of education due to her lack of preparation as an heir," he says, "though I also hear she is in need of a husband as well."

The tea leaves in the cup trembles for a moment before sinking. "Father?"

"This is an opportunity of a lifetime, son."

And Zhongli thinks about his role, his abandoned journal, and books yet to be read and nods. "I understand," he says, wondering why, even though he expects where his life has been leading, he feels disappointed by the outcome anyway. "I will bring honor to our family."

"I expect nothing less," is what is said to him, and Zhongli swallows the bitterness of the tea down.

.

.

When Zhongli arrives at the palace, he is welcomed with all the excitement that is to be expected from the arrival of a son whose family holds prestige. Maids of many numbers cater to his every whim, and the few court officials who seem to favor him welcome him to the royal palace, which is broad and grand just as history would describe them. 

Briefly, he wonders if it is professionalism or greed that maintains the palace’s daily businesses after an evident tragedy.

"I would like to extend my greetings and gratitude to the princess for allowing me in her castle," Zhongli says carefully, his voice even and words like silk-- just as he was taught as an educated man-- and watches in confusion as the nobleman who had barely kept his pleasure at his presence suddenly deflate. 

"Ah, yes, of course, you would like to see the Princess," he says, a nervous lilt to his voice. "But I'm afraid she is preoccupied with another commitment at the moment. My apologies."

Invitation from the Princess, he remembers reading from the telegram, thinking it strange that someone would invite someone without intentions of welcoming them. It's easy to come to the conclusion that the Princess had not sent the message-- and the thought that she may not even know of his arrival also comes following after. Instead of speaking, Zhongli nods, much to the noble's relief as he continues to parade and provide him the tour that he has not asked for but appreciates nevertheless.

His room is two halls down the main chambers where you live. If the location and proximity to royalty were not enough, the room itself was also vast and much too big for one person, but he supposes luxury and decadence can be shown in empty space as well as it can with beautiful trinkets and trophies. Zhongli has always admired such things, as he does with the ornate statue sitting on top of his vanity and wonders when, if he ever does, he will be able to explore the castle in between whatever responsibilities the court deems him in need for.

"Maid," Zhongli says gently, but the young maid startles anyway when he addresses her. 

"Yes, sir?"

"Would I be allowed to stroll the gardens of the west side of the palace?" He says, "The moon is to be full tonight and I wish to view it."

She flushes, for reasons that Zhongli knows not for. "I-I believe so. The guards should be patrolling at the moment, but you are a recognized guest of the palace, so all should be well."

When Zhongli steps out onto the carefully maintained rock garden, he spots a few men walking down and up the inner walls of the castle. He briefly thinks about the number of them but thinks no further, for now. Instead, he thinks the moon is best viewed when its reflection is in the water, clouds are nowhere in sight, and all is quiet. He comes close to the perimeter of the garden inner castle, expecting to see no one. 

Zhongli steps into the moonlight and watches as you sit onto the grass and lean your head against the lone lantern post.

Perhaps you are here to moon-gaze as well, he thinks and goes to alert you with his presence by clearing his throat. He doesn't know why his earnest attempts to be unalarming go unwell, but he startles you into turning around. 

Zhongli does not know what the Princess looks like, nor has he had anyone describe you to him. But Zhongli knows who you are if not solely from the emblem you carry on your headpiece and the way you hold a funeral urn in your lap like it is the only thing tethering you. As such, he expects the caustic demands of his name and stature, as expected of a Princess, but he is surprised to find that you look at him instead like a deer in headlights, arms tense around the urn.

"My apologies for startling you, my lady," Zhongli begins, "that was not my intention."

"Oh, no, it's okay," you stammer, and he has to blink for a moment at the manner in which you speak. "I should have probably noticed you coming. I was distracted."

Princesses and princes of the royal family are taught three things from birth: power, manners, and tradition. Nothing says more about your status than the way you hold yourself and the way you speak, especially if you are of royalty, and so every word that one must speak seems carefully crafted and intricately woven with elegance. A tad bit obnoxious, if anyone could say, but it is a mark of the elite, regardless of the former. 

But you, who hold possibly one, if not the most, powerful title in the country, speak casually and without bothering with a mask of neutrality, as though you are unused to the burdens of sovereignty.

Your eyes are gentle, almost excessively so, and the way you hold yourself as though you want to be unnoticed are both strange but corroborating evidence of your peculiarities of a noblewoman. Though Zhongli has yet to understand why this is so, the instructions his father listed and his role in the castle has become clearer.

Zhongli has many questions, too many to ask about to a person who has no idea who he is. 

Decorum takes him before his curiosity overwhelms him, and he lowers his head in deep respect. "My name is Zhongli, Princess. Thank you for allowing me to stay as a guest within the palace.”

"Oh," he hears you breathe out, "you're the one that came today." You turn your head toward the koi pond that beautifully reflects the moon. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to greet you," you say mechanically, trained.

"No, that's quite alright," Zhongli says mildly, glancing down at the urn still in your hands. "I'm sure greeting a stranger would be the least of your concerns at the moment."

At this, you smile at him. It is not a happy smile, but rather a pained one that strains your lips and pinches your eyes. Zhongli thinks back on his first lesson to maintain his expression, to keep composure, and almost marvels at the emotions clear on your face for him to see. 

(He thinks this may make your life harder for you, to wear your heart on your sleeves. But he finds himself selfishly wanting you to stay as you are.)

"I've been told one week is all I should be given to mourn, as typical of a funeral ceremony. My parents' ashes should be released but…" You glance up at the night sky dim with stars. "I know in my heart this is not the place for them."

"Then what is the place?" Zhongli echoes and holds his breath when the smile you give him is gentle beyond measure.

"Some place where the wind blows," you say, "where the earth is clean and the ocean is near. That way, my parents can choose freely where to find rest." You laugh. "That must be a pretty tall order, isn't it?"

"You are a Princess," Zhongli finds himself saying, and you turn back to him. "I believe you are allowed to demand only the very best, for yourself and your loved ones."

"I believe," he continues, when he sees your eyes mist over, "that I am here to tutor you in the ways the court deems fit. I have been praised to have a wealth of knowledge and the privilege of history in my family as well as the power of my lineage; I will guide you as best as you need me to." He pauses. "And… if you require a geographical lesson on the highest peaks, the widest oceans, and the most open plains, for reasons beyond academic, I will be available to you."

.

.

.

Zhongli returns to his room (two halls away, he reminds himself, from you), and it is only then he realizes that he has not looked at the moon at all. Not directly, he thinks, but he supposes he did see a glimpse of it, as it stands behind you as a backdrop to frame the smile you gave him that was as bright as starlight.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #genshin imagines #genshin au #imperial drama au

[theodora3022]

Good Morning, Or Good Night(Pt.3)

Summary: Night and morning series part three! This time for my favourite boys + a little gift for a friend!

Notes: These are probably even more self indulgent than others since I love them too much. Sigma and Tetchou especially, soft but strong boys are my weakness-

Next part I will cover Yosano, Higuchi and Kouyou since I recently noticed there is a lack of content for the beautiful BSD ladies around here…

Tags: @rose-tragedy​ I hope you like this surprise gift! I included Lovecraft for you if that’s okay! I tried my best to write him... @dragoning1​ here’s sigma as you asked! 

Adding a cut for the last two boys since there will be manga spoilers.

Warnings: Fluff, self indulgent content, spoilers for the manga for anyone who only seen the anime!

Edgar Allan Poe

Bedtime: Whenever you go to sleep, or he may just stay up all night reading or writing novels.

Sometimes(it happens a lot) Edgar would get too invested in a book to eat dinner or sleep, you’ll have to remind him! Make sure he stays healthy and fed :) Brew him some of his favorite tea blends to make sure he stays hydrated!

“Ah, it’s dinnertime already? Thank you my dear, I will come right after I finish this paragraph. No Karl, you cannot go first.”

His ideal way to spend the nights would include :snuggling under a blanket with you and Karl, reading books under dim candle lights near a fireplace(if it’s winter of course).

But if you insist, Edgar will come shopping with you! As long as he gets to stop by a bookstore on the way. Be prepared to drag him out of there after two hours-

Since he lives alone in canon, I imagine Edgar usually orders takeout or buy bulks of frozen dinner at a time to avoid cooking himself. If you are willing to eat these with him, that’s no problem! But if you want to cook up things yourself, Edgar would be happy to eat them. He doesn’t strike me as the picky type, so as long it’s edible he won’t complain and will just swallow. His face would lit up if it’s delicious though!

Edgar doesn’t need to “Go to work” per se, being the guild’s planner allows him to work from home, as long as the plans are available for pick up by the end of the week. So you bet him likes to sleep in. Unless you have a regular job he will want you to stay in bed with him and Karl.

If you decide to urge him to get up, however, Edgar will grumble like a little kid. He would only begrudgingly get up after thirty minutes of you lecturing the benefits of being an early riser.

Help him brush that messy hair, tie his tie in different styles, much like Ranpo he loves being taken care of. Edgar will pack a lunch for you if you have to leave for work!

Howard Phillps Lovecraft

Bedtime:...Bold of you to assume he has one. Like he won’t just fall asleep randomly on the couch or anywhere really. It would be more useful to know about his conscious schedule.

I assume you work in the Guild along with him, if they have 9-5 work days he will try to get enough sleep in the evening but no promises. (A/N: I seriously cannot find any info on this forgive me ahhh)

He doesn’t mind if you play with his hair, in fact he loves it when you buy all kinds of elastic and hairclips for them. Howard never bothered to keep it tidy himself, but it feels...quite nice. Maybe he is just too lazy to care.

Regular shopping?Like for clothes? Buy him some chocolates on your way home, he’s going to bed. If you want to go grocery shopping? Howard is putting his coat on and ready to go. He might not have much passion for other things,  but when it comes to food consider him interested.

“No, we don’t have space for this much of Icecream? That’s disappointing. Maybe we just need a bigger fridge.”

Do not be surprised if you two come home with fifty boxes of ice cream of different flavours. His tencicles will help to carry them!

If work calls for early risings, you would need to get Howard out of bed and get him dressed. How he managed to keep his position in the Guild before is a mystery. Fitzgerald didn’t fire him for being late to work this much?

(A/N: An attempt was made, please don’t criticize me too harshly ahhhh)

Proceed with caution! The following section contains manga spoilers!

Suehiro Tetchou

Bedtime:10pm, but on days off he is willing to push it to 11pm.

As soldiers, Tetchou and you have to follow a healthy sleeping schedule, to preserve yourselves in best condition for any emergencies. But he cannot say no to your watery eyes when you plead on holidays. One hour is all he will compromise.

Like Tachihara, this guy loves to work out! Be his workout buddy, time his planks and count his pushups! Tetchou would even let you sit on his back while doing push ups just to get some extra weight and to hear your giggle.

While he prefers to exercise the evenings away, Tetchou is not opposed to watching some cheesy rom coms maybe twice a week. Expect him to  make odd remarks to the storyline and the characters though.

“Why is her hair braided that way? Oh, it’s not important to the plot? Alright. Wait, there is a dog, and he is not important either? Then why include him at all?”

Tetchou loves cuddling, would often bury his face on the crook of your neck and tickle you with his breath and unruly hair.

An Emergency mission in the middle of the night is nothing foreign to him. But you won’t hear him if you are not needed. Tetchou knows his way of being stealthy! But if you are needed, expect him to carry you out of bed an hour before, dressing you in your uniforms and putting your hair into a quick ponytail if you are still sleepy.

He is not like the last two lazy ones, Tetchou got  training to do! The mornings you two would go for a daily run in the base gym, followed by a set of stretch exercises. Then if you are lazy and would just prefer to eat in the base cafeteria, Tetchou would come along. But if you want to cook something in the little kitchen of your shared quarters, let him help with the food preparation!

Learn some reasonable dishes of his favorite color combo, and you will have a Tetchou smiling non-stop while stuffing himself. He will try to cook some regular food too, but the taste...I won’t comment on it.

Sigma

Bedtime:??? most nights you literally have to force him to go to bed at a reasonable hour!

Life as a casino manager is a busy one, with overtimes. Even with your help, Sigma would overload himself with work and get into a bit of a workaholic state often.

You cannot count how many times you had to carry him to bed at midnight. He would always apologize for bothering you, and even when you insist he is not, Sigma would still buy you something to make it up. Maybe a nice dress or another set of colorful fountain pens.

“I know I get crazy sometimes, but you and the casino is all I have, love. Please forgive me for letting you worry. Thank you for bearing with me.”

When he is actually free, or you convinced him to relax for a bit, Sigma would probably be willing to accompany you to anywhere you want. The world is still new to him, so many things to explore and try. If you take him to an amusement park he would probably scream on the rollercoasters but want to try them again!

Saying Sigma is the dictionary definition of clingy would be an understatement. Can’t blame him though, he got major abandonment issues, or separation anxiety, whichever you wish to call it. Even when he is working, you need to be somewhere in sight. It gets even harder when you two are in bed, since Sigma will not let you go to the washroom even if he is deep in the dream realm. You know he cannot control himself while sleeping, so just remember to not drink too much water before bed!

He would have the chef of the Casino restaurant to cook the meals since he does not wish to bother himself or you with these time consuming things. But if you baked some chocolate chip cookies, be ready for this man trailing after you like a needy puppy!

Part 1 for ADA 

Part 2 for Port Mafia

#bsd #bsd x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd headcanons #bsd fluff #bsd poe #bsd edgar allan poe #bsd lovecraft #bsd howard phillips lovecraft #bsd tecchou #bsd suehiro tetchou #bsd sigma #bsd poe x reader #bsd lovecraft x reader #bsd tetchou x reader #bsd tecchou x reader #bsd sigma x reader

[legends-live-in-memories]

“How Did All This Happen?”- A Memoire by one Marinette Dupain-Cheng 1

Soooooo I decided to write this. much longer than the other things i posted, also very tonally different. I will definitely continue that other fic tho. I was just brainstorming and now this exists. Yeah.

 without further ado

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

People Fucked Up and Now It’s All Marinette’s Mess to Clean Up I

This was not how Marinette planned for her night to go. Granted, she also could not envision it going literally any other way. The woes of making a deal with the hell-raiser himself, John Constantine, she supposes. She truly hoped Adrien was having a much better time than her with his cousin in London. After the circus that was the past three years, he deserved some reprieve, even if it was with his bratty doppelganger. Regardless, Marinette. Was. Not. Pleased. No matter how many times she thinks over her plan, recalculates every step and decision, she could not fathom this night ending well for her, or anyone really, but mostly her. And no amount of old Ladybug or Guardian luck could help her. Now, if one were to wonder what kind of tragedy had befallen Marinette on this disgraceful night, a brief history of the last three months could enlighten such a person. Or better yet, let’s start at the beginning. The Real Beginning.

So, things existed. Obviously. First there was nothing, and then, something. And as more things began to exist, as new schools of knowledge and concepts and ideas began to, well, exist, Kwamis formed as well. Each Kwami was the physical manifestation of these ideas or abstracts. Creation was the first, coupled with Destruction. And as more things began to exist, more things began needing to be protected. Thus, the Kwami of Protection. This went on. For a while. Soon thereafter there were Kwamis of all types. Jubilation, Time, Strength, etc, etc, and etc. Now these Kwamis did not linger in one spot. They roamed across the far stretches of existence and interacted with the life they found.

Some Kwamis decided to form a magical pact which intergalactic historians would later dub the Emotional Electromagnetic Spectrum. Sounds familiar? The Kwamis themselves were completely blissfully unaware of this title, lest they would have explained to these beings, Maltusians they were called, that they were not in fact, electromagnetic but more so a part of the Powers that Be. Kind of. But this side-story involves the formation of a few universally known Lantern Corps, and that is a barrel of monkeys our exasperated narrator does not want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Or ever.

Other Kwamis, who stuck close to what would become known as the Milky Way, were discovered by a mage who granted them the ability to interact with humans. This mage— and Marinette was silently cursing his descendants, herself included, for if it weren’t for this absolute mad lad, none of the subsequent events of this night would have transcribed—had bound the Kwamis to magical jewelry called Miraculouses. An interesting side effect of these Kwamis being bound to the miraculouses was that the wearer could call upon the powers of the Kwamis for their own usage. The mage feared what could become of the world if this kind of power became so easily accessible, so he created the Order of the Guardians. The Order was dedicated to training young mages to protect, wield and harvest the powers of the miraculouses. The Order swore to true neutrality; wishing not to impose their will on one side or the other, to maintain balance and to not upset the natural order of the world. 

This went surprisingly well for a few millennia, that is, of course, if you ignore the sinking of Atlantis, the extinction of the dinosaurs, the Black Plague, the creation of the Lazarus Pits, Pompeii, to name a few completely egregious instances—not necessarily in order of course—and well, the point stands that it could have been astronomically worse. Until it was.  

One young mage and Guardian in training had caused the downfall of almost the entire Order of the Guardians. All the centuries of history, teachings, artifacts and even the people at the head temple, were lost to the calamity. Dozens of Miraculous Boxes were lost, destroyed in the fray. The Kwamis themselves were relatively unaffected, being immortal and all, but the magical jewelry binding them to the earth were broken, thus those Kwamis were lost to mankind once again. Only one singular box, and the young mage himself, survived. The new Guardian of one miraculous box was left to scour the earth in solitude. Well, about as much solitude one could have with 17 pocket gods as company. The fact that the only box that survived was missing two more miraculouses caused the already stressed guardian to grey further. But that tidbit of information would be a problem for later. And for someone else entirely too. Oh joy.

But before that sequence of events, aptly named “Marinette’s Trial by Fire,” however, the young guardian had a couple more life mistakes to make before he reached his internal quota apparently. Rather than travel to another sector of the Order on the other side of the earth, this young mage stumbled upon another organization, one similar in architecture and hierarchy but a pendulum swing in the total moral opposite. Yes, that’s right, the guardian found himself upon the League of Shadows, led by Ra’s Al Ghul in his endeavor of global cleansing; by acts of ecoterrorism, but who sweats the small stuff, right? There, the young guardian, who adopted the name of Wang Fu, met his first love Ming Hong and they had a son. The son had a daughter he named Mei. Now Mei was only a few weeks younger than Ra’s Al Ghul’s grandson, Damian. Now with an appropriate heir, and someone to procreate with said heir, Ra’s Al Ghul gained a special interest in the small Fu family that originally flew under the radar of the League. 

Now this is where things continue to go downhill, but not until much, much later in this story. Ra’s Al Ghul, despite his radical ambitions, was particularly good at playing the long game and understood when he couldn’t accomplish a task directly. This being said, he recognized that, due to prolonged exposure to the Lazarus Pits, his soul could not bear the strain of being a wielder of a miraculous and so he waited. Waited until a suitable heir was sired and could copulate with an heir to the guardian of the miraculous box, desiring to create a bloodline of genetically suitable successors and wielders who were loyal to him and his cause. 

Ra’s ordered for the Fu family to have a place on his court and ordered for Mei Fu to be trained in mastering the secrets of the miraculous. And master she did. By age 6 she was fluent in the coded language of the magical text, or as fluent a 6 year old can be in any language, and she had mastered 7 out the 17 miraculouses. By age 10 she was as skilled as the grandson of the Demon Head in combat and could handle simultaneous wear of 3 miraculouses. Her training, however, had to be put on hold as somebody thought usurping the Demon Head was of the utmost importance that glorious Tuesday and staged a coup. She wished Deathstroke had lost more than an eye that day, but a girl can dream she supposes. Mei and her grandfather were separated from the rest of the League and journeyed west. Somehow they ended up in Paris, France. After one too many run ins with the authorities, Mei was removed from her grandfather, who was deemed too unfit to support her. It was a miracle he wasn’t deported. 

Mei was put into protective custody where she resided until she was 13. Recently adopted, and thoroughly done with the plebeians of her daily encounters, Mei Fu became Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of the best bakers in Paris. All was well and good for the new Dupain-Cheng until the start of the new school year. 

She met her grandfather again. And apparently he had a job for her and her soon to be new partner.

Hawkmoth, that bitch, had somehow acquired the two last surviving miraculouses and the only surviving grimoire and thought domestic terrorism was on the agenda for the next few years. Why? Because investing in a family therapist was too much of an inconvenience for local recluse, Gabriel McFucking Agreste, Marinette would shortly learn. 

After dealing with all of that and juggling between her reignited guardian training, and ‘normal’ girl life—because her parents don’t know that she’s a magical girl in the making—, Marinette was ready to sleep for a thousand years. Or commit murder. Whichever gave her enough serotonin to complete her current passion project. But, alas, no rest for the totally-over-it or however that saying goes. Because after declaring Paris safe once again, sending off her brother-in-arms, Adrien Agreste, to family in London (marginally decent but anything beats the abusive prick of a sperm donor), in waltz one drunken John Constantine.

Ah yes. Him. That absolute bastard who doesn’t deserve nice things in life. That guy.

This unpleasantry approached Master Fu and Marinette, who has been regulated to errand-girl in lieu of training, with a job that he proclaimed that only one blessed with magic, and specifically NOT connected to the Justice League could accomplish. Apparently, a group called the Cult of the Kobra resided on Santa Prisca and was in possession of a dangerous magical artifact that had been the backbone of their organization for years. Constantine came to them asking them for assistance in retrieving it as the Justice League could not interfere in the Caribbean due to new UN legislation. It was a mission of utmost urgency for he feared the cult leader, Kobra himself, was planning on enacting a ritual that could bring calamity to Earth. Which is just what the doctor ordered. Not. In exchange, he agreed to add to her magical training as while master Fu was good, he was still young when he ran away from his problems the first time and thus was limited in his magical knowledge.

That was three months ago. Three months of planning, training, and convincing her parents that letting her go on an extended retreat for an undetermined amount of time with her mostly absent biological grandfather was totally reasonable for the seventeen year old to do. Like, come on. She’s almost old enough to drink, almost ready for university and has been praised for her independence and self-sufficiency for years. She’ll be fine is what she told her parents and she was almost able to convince herself of that too. She would be perfectly fine. Right?

Wrong.

Marinette was anything but fine. She was stressed, she was tired and she was abso-fucking-lutely pissed at anything that even breathed in her direction. Why? Well that brings us back to the beginning of the story when everything on this mission did not go according to plan. So here she was along what was once upon a time the eastern coastline of Santa Prisca. Oh and look. The Junior Justice League has arrived.

Purrrrfect. 

Some one asked for a taglist. Ask and ye shall receive

@deathwishy @neakco  @ virtualreading  @f-rget-lt @your-resident-chicken-nugget

#maribat #marinette x damian #daminette #i was bored and left unattended #no salt in case you were wondering #yes i am looking at you antis who feel like stalking this tag #im not tagging characters cuz reasons #badass!marinette dupain cheng #idk what plot this is going to have or how heavy the romance is but this just exists so #i wrote this at 1 am #hdath #thats the fic tag im gonna use if i post more

[nyctolovian]

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mikotoba Yuujin/Sherlock Holmes | Herlock Sholmes, Mikotoba Yuujin & Sherlock Holmes | Herlock Sholmes, why isn't there a platonic tag for them.... Additional Tags: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Canon, Regret, Guilt, Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Y'know, just dudes accidentally being dads.

Yuujin apparently didn't have to worry about knocking the door at 1am because he didn’t even have to wait for more than 2 seconds before the door swung open to an already chattering man. Sholmes had a frown on his face as he talked animatedly, "... checked with me! It is incredibly late. There had better be a proper reason why you would require me to open the door for you at this time. What would you do had I been asleep? You most definitely have your key with you so I don't see why you couldn't just…" He trailed off as his eyes travelled downwards to the bundle in Yuujin's arms.

 A small pudgy hand stuck out from the folds of the towels. Sholmes' gaze travelled quickly from Yuujin's arms, to his face, to the large medical bag on the floor and to his hands before sighing. "Hm… I see." Wasting no time at all, he stepped aside for the exhausted Japanese man and closed the door without a single fuss.

 Yuujin supposed that was the good thing about Sholmes, you didn't need to explain too much to him. And Yuujin couldn't be more grateful for this trait of his tonight; he was in no mood for explaining anything.

 Cradling the infant, he sat down on his bed, which creaked under his weight. The baby made a noise as she gazed up at him with wide eyes. For a second, the blue in her eyes shifted to a familiar brown he hadn’t seen in ages, and Yuujin felt a pang in his chest. He tore his eyes away from the child and said, "I- Well, I believe it's, um, her meal time. Herlock, could you make something for her?"

 Sholmes followed Yuujin's gaze to the large bag he came in with. "Where did you get it from?"

 "The… The mother had it prepared at her home. And I simply… took it."

 Sholmes froze mid-bend to look at Yuujin quizzically. "But that would mean…" He caught himself and shook his head.

 Yuujin didn't know what conclusion Sholmes had drawn from that but knowing him, it was probably scarily close to the truth.

 “It pains me to admit, my friend,” Sholmes said, holding up the bottle and the bag of baby food, “but it seems even my brilliance may have its limits when it comes to the art of making infant food without instruction.”

 “Ah,” Yuujin said as he gently placed the child on the bed. “Right. Of course.” After making sure she was nicely settled, he got up with a sigh. God, how much of an old man he was behaving right now, especially when there was an eighteen-year-old around him daily as a direct comparison. He gestured for Sholmes to join him as he prepared the food, describing the process as they went along.

 As he shook the bottle, Sholmes asked, “You are teaching me all this because you intend to leave her in my care, don’t you?”

 Yuujin flinched. “I… Well…”

 To be asked so directly… but that always was the way with Sholmes, was it not?

 After taking in a deep breath, Yuujin admitted, “Truthfully, yes. I presume that Jigoku and I might be deported soon and I can’t take this child with me… I am supposed to only care for her temporarily but…” Yuujin had no idea what Genshin had meant. What on earth did he mean when he said, ‘if something should happen to me’? None of it made sense… God, his head hurt.

 He shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to focus. “Hopefully, it will not come to it but I have to prepare for the worst. I can’t put this child’s future on vague hopes.”

 Sholmes looked back at the infant lying on the mattress and Yuujin recognised the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. His heart squeezed with guilt.

 “I’m sorry. This is a lot to ask of you. You’re the first person I thought of but I know I… I am being incredibly selfish." He shook his head. "Please do forget it, Sholmes. I shall look for alternatives. You needn't worry yourself with this."

 Before Yuujin could say another word, however, the child on the bed began to wail. He snapped into action, rushing to the child. Gently, he cradled her again and rocked her. “Are you hungry? Don’t worry. We have food,” he cooed. He gestured for the bottle and Sholmes handed it to him.

 Carefully, he cocked the bottle to the infant and pressed the nipple to her lips. The crying slowed quickly and the child began to suck at the nipple. She was suckling with such ferocity that Yuujin couldn’t help but laugh at the adorable little face she was making. This baby girl was going to grow up strong, he could already tell.

 He thought of the baby—ah, no… she must be 6 years old by now; no longer the baby he had left in Japan… Thinking about it made him so very tired and guilty. That made it a total of two children.

 Two children whose mothers he could only watch lose their lives to childbirth, unable to do anything as he cried for hours after. Two children who would grow up without fathers because one was killed by the Professor, and the other spent every day on the brink of complete and utter resignation before he was whisked away to a foreign land. Two children he was leaving in the care of others again, because he was incapable. Two children who were supposed to be his responsibility, placed under his care, yet he had abandoned—was going to abandon—them.

 What a useless man he was. He failed at being a caretaker of these children. He was meant to be a father but now it felt like a title he didn't deserve—

 “Can I try?” Sholmes broke Yuujin's train of thought, voice quieter than usual.

 “Ah, of course.” Yuujin shuffled closer to Sholmes, who took the bottle. The infant’s eyes widened and her lips trembled as the nipple slipped out of her mouth for a second. But Sholmes returned the bottle to the infant, who resumed her suckling with what seemed almost like increased fervour.

 “Do not worry,” Sholmes said. “I’m not taking it away from you. You need not react with such sadness and worry!”

 “She’s just an infant,” Yuujin chided lightly. “She wouldn’t know otherwise.”

 “That's right…” Sholmes said. “Your experience of the world is not even 24 hours! There is very much for you to learn, isn't there?”

 Yuujin nodded, but his chest was welling up with worry. Not even 24 hours in the world and, already, her life was looking so… bleak. What on earth was Genshin even going to do?

 No, Yuujin would wait. Genshin looked like he had a plan. Surely, he was needlessly worrying.

 But the next day, Yuujin heard nothing about Genshin other than the news that he had been executed. So he waited for whatever arrangements Genshin might have gotten to pull through. But days stretched to weeks before, as Yuujin had predicted, the exchange was called off officially and all Japanese students were to be deported. And Yuujin was certain that there was no more hope left.

 "It's a bit sad that you still haven't got a name, isn't it?" Sholmes said, lifting the baby up. "After all this while."

 The baby let out a joyful noise.

 "Actually… I've been calling her little Iris for a while. I-In my head," Yuujin admitted. It hadn't felt right for the baby to be completely nameless. But it hadn't felt right to actually name her either.

 "Little Iris?"

 "Yes, Iris. Um… named after my… wife, Ayame. But in English," Yuujin said sheepishly. It felt silly now, but two weeks ago, as he held the child and whispered to her gently, he wondered if giving the baby the name of his dead wife might mean she'd be watching over her too. Perhaps she'd protect the child from any more tragedy and harm. Like some sort of protection charm.

 Yuujin hoped it wasn’t too selfish, asking his wife to watch over two children like this.

 "Iris…" Sholmes repeated. He turned to the child with a smile. "Your Papa has given you a good name, hasn't he?"

 Yuujin felt his ears grow hot.

 "I'm not her Papa, Sholmes," Yuujin said in a mix of exasperation and fondness, shaking his head. "I thought that much was obvious."

 “You worry so much over her, you’re practically her Papa. Don’t pretend like you don’t peer into her cot almost every hour just to smile at her,” Sholmes said.

 Yuujin sputtered in mortification, but he had no leg to stand on in this argument.

 "Besides, as far as I'm concerned, we're Iris' fathers now," he said. "I'll be taking care of her from now on after all."

 Jaw dropping, Yuujin stuttered, "You'll be… what? No, there's no need to do that. I'll search for someone else before I leave. You don't need to do this."

 "It's quite alright, my friend!" Sholmes said. "I, the great detective, am clearly a natural at many things including taking care of infants. You can leave Iris in my very attentive and gentle care!"

 "But that is simply too much to ask of you.” Yuujin’s heart felt heavy, dripping with guilt and distress. “I’ll try—"

 "Nonsense!" Sholmes huffed. "Nothing is too much to ask of me. While I was frankly quite worried at first, time has proven that I have quite a knack for taking care of children. It will be fine."

 "No, it's not right to burden you with this. I shall look for alternatives—"

 "Surely, you won't be so cruel as to separate us!" Sholmes interrupted. "We get on so well after all. Like a house on fire, wouldn't you agree?" He lifted Iris to eye-level, and she gurgled excitedly.

 Yuujin pursed his lips. He sure hoped this was just one of those strange English turn of phrases, rather than something literal. He had been the unfortunate witness to how "on fire" Sholmes could turn a house before.

 Noticing the worry still etched upon Yuujin's face, Sholmes said in a more sombre tone, "Truthfully, that night, I was honoured to be the first person you've consulted about this. It spoke volumes of the faith you have in me. And now, I truly do wish to care for Iris… A part of me also thinks that it would be rather nice if… when you come back, you could come home to me and Iris both. And I know how much you’d worry about her back in Japan." He smiled softly at Yuujin. "What do you say, my dear partner?"

 “I…” Yuujin gazed at Iris, his eyes burning with the threat of tears again. “Thank you so much, Sholmes."

#dai gyatuken saiban #dgs #the great ace attorney #tgaa #ace attorney #homumiko #angst #hurt/comfort #sorta #fanfic #herlock sholmes #sherlock holmes #yujin mikotoba #mikotoba yuujin #my writing

[imaginarydesires]

Pedro Pascal

Character Preferences

How They React to You Telling Them of Your Past Abuse ♡

Warnings: fluff, descriptions of abuse/trauma, emotional distress, descriptions of violence/anger/murder

Notes: gender-neutral! // the abuse is kept ambiguous to better suit a variety of readers. however, it is implied it was a single abuser. // I genuinely hope this can help someone, because writing it certainly gave me a small boost of comfort. // your abuse was not your fault. your trauma does not make you less than. your comfort characters would still love you even despite your scars.

❥ Dave York

You had barely finished your explanation of the events before he was planning the details of his retaliation. The thought of someone hurting you made his blood boil, and he could not handle his reaction well despite how he tried to hide it. He tried to be sweet and supportive of your healing process, but all he wanted was revenge. He might have even promised you that he wouldn’t do anything, but he does because he physically cannot stop himself. The thought of your abuser still living is enough to drive him to delirium. You might see the news report of their death or get a call from a family member/friend, and you know it was your Dave who did it, but neither of you talk about it. He just pulls you into his embrace and promises no one will ever hurt you again.

❥ Din Djarin

He comforts you to the best of his ability and promises you will always be safe with him. The openness of the conversation brings forth unpleasant memories of his own, and he genuinely admires your bravery for speaking so blatantly about the event(s). He knows if he ever sees your abuser, he won’t hesitate to point his blaster between their eyes, but for now he focuses on your comfort and amelioration.

❥ Ezra Prospect

He listens intently, letting you express the grievous emotion while reminding you of your safety and commending your resiliency. For the first time, he does not overwhelm you with poetic or philosophical phrases, and he does not focus on the details of the past. Instead, he asks what he can do to help you moving forward. He questions if there is anything he can do to make you more comfortable or assist your healing.

❥ Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales

He hates seeing you in pain. He embraces you, holding you tightly as though if he tries hard enough he might be able to squeeze your broken pieces back together. If you’re crying, so is he. It’s like he is feeling your wounds with you. He understands trauma and the way it changes you forever. He wishes he could have sheltered you from the harsh realities of the world. He promises to never let anyone hurt you ever again and he promises you will not feel your pain alone.

❥ Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels

It starts with him holding your hand and listening to your story and slowly maneuvers to him pulling you completely into his lap to hold you against his chest. He kisses your forehead and soothes you, calling you every term of endearment as he reassures your safety. He tells you about his first love, and promises to protect you like he could not protect her. He wishes he could rid the world of people like your abuser. He imagines a society without them, and decides he’d do anything to make that a reality.

❥ Javier Peña

He’s never been comfortable with deep conversations, but as you tell him of your past, he has his full attention on you. He notices the way your demeanor changes as you talk, the small details he had been trained to pick up on in the field. He hates to learn of your trauma, but it serves as a reminder for why he does what he does. He wants to put those kind of people behind bars or six feet under ground. You become his motivation on the hard days, when he wishes he could just go home and forget the harsh realities of Columbia. He helps you forget your pain, gently kissing away the reminisce of your abuse. You both serve each other well, helping the other cope with the pain of the past.

❥ Marcus Moreno

It breaks his heart to hear of the tragedies you endured. He wraps his arms around your figure and embraces you sincerely, wanting to comfort you during your time of need. He promises you that you are safe now. He asks what he can do to help you, knowing the effects that trauma based disorders can have on daily life. He had seen his fair share of harsh scenes while working the field, and while he kept it together for you and his daughter, he understood your position too well. He thanks you for being brave enough to tell him, and will spend the rest of the night just holding you.

❥ Max Phillips

He listens, and then before you can even finish your story, he’s walking towards the door. He requires vengeance in the form of fangs sinking into your abuser’s neck. You call out to him, asking him not to leave you. He’s not usually a gentle or compassionate man, but seeing you so vulnerable changed that. He pulled you into his lap and held you, tracing his fingers down the side of your body to soothe you. He listened to your pulse, waiting for it to finally settle before he kissing your forehead and whispering to you that he would always keep you safe and you would never be hurt again. He knew as soon as you were calmed, he would find your abuser and tear them apart.

❥ Maxwell Lord

Your past only made Maxwell love you more, if that was even possible. As much as he hates that you know the effects of trauma too, he’s grateful to have someone who understands. He suddenly believed all of the times you reassured him that you supported him and understood his sincere ambition and flaws. You become his motivation in the sense that he desperately wants to give you a better life - a safe life. He kisses you sweetly and tells you that he will support and cherish you, and you’ll never be unprotected ever again.

❥ Oberyn Martell

He could see it in your eyes from the moment he met you - that you had something lingering from your past. He knew he could have easily chosen someone else, but he wanted you. He wanted you even with your abusive past and the effects of your trauma. He reassures you adamantly, reminding you that your past does not define you and your future will be with him. He doesn’t show any hints of desiring justified violence, instead focusing on your security and comfort, but as gentle of a lover as he is, he values vengeance. The next week you hear the news of your abuser being slain by the infamous Red Viper. You try to talk to him about it, but he silences you with a kiss and reminds you that you are his, and he will not allow anyone who has harmed you to remain alive.

❥ Pero Tovar

His scars are scattered across his skin, but yours are hidden beneath the surface. It’s difficult for him to listen to your story because he wished he could have been there to protect you. He clings onto you uncharacteristically. His arms wrap around your figure and he nuzzles your face into his chest while leaving sweet kisses on the top of your head. He pledges himself to you, promising to always maintain your safety. He was never one for compassionate actions, but he repeated reassuring words you had said to him in the past, hoping you understood how genuine his emotions were for you. He didn’t like to spill unnecessary blood, but if he ever saw your abuser, his sword would pierce them before they could speak.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character preference #pedro pascal preferences #pedro pascal characters #dave york imagine #dave york #Din Djarin #din djarin imagine #ezra prospect imagine #ezra prospect #frankie morales imagine #Frankie Morales #frankie catfish morales #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey #marcus moreno imagine #marcus moreno #max phillips imagine #maxwell lord imagine #Maxwell lord #max lord #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar #trauma #abuse

[ohplagg]

The Yato-gami I know

Also read at AO3

Summary: 

“My name is Sakura,” she decides to try a much simpler approach “what’s yours?”

The man with his right hand still holding half of his face and with a skeptical look writes on the dirt.

夜卜

Ya…to?

AU where Tenjin never fired Tamanone.

NOTE: Adachitoka never bothered to come up with Tamanone's Tenjin given name so I'm following their example by also avoiding the issue and using Sakura instead

I want to once again give a big 'thank you' to @noragamibigbang for organizing this.

And an even bigger 'thank you' to my lovely partner (@mochakat) who came up with the idea and who also created a beautiful artwork that goes along with this!

It was a day like every other day; nothing new, nothing exiting, nothing special. Just everything really quiet and peaceful and boring.

Sakura, a beautiful young lady with long dark hair dressed in a miko, was starting to despise every second of it. Well not every second of it. Sakura couldn’t really complain much about her days being too peaceful, it definitely was an improvement from those days where her master had his rage moments and fired anyone who even dared to just breathe the wrong way in his presents.

She was lucky that Tsuyu was there that day to talk to master Tenjin out of the idea of firing her, she will forever owe her live to Tsuyu. Who knows what would have happened if she had been fired that day who knows how long ago? ...Was it a 1000 years ago? It’s been so long that Sakura had lost the track of time.

But peaceful days doesn’t mean they should also be boring and lately life had become extremely mundane. Ever since she was forbidden from working in the prayer altar she’s been sweeping fallen leaves from stone stairs that lead up to the tori, far enough that she can’t eavesdrop on the human prayers any more. According to Tenjin-sama “it’s his job to listen to the prayers, not hers” but Sakura knows there’s more to the reason even if he doesn’t say it.

“-hope Tenjin-sama grants that old lady’s prayer.” Sakura’s attention is caught by the gossiping some shrine maidens are having about some human prayer. Oh, how she misses listening to human prayers; learning about the near shore problems and how humans found solutions to their problems, the emotions they felt for one another, the human nature can be beautiful sometimes.

Sakura stops her sweeping as she listens carefully to the gossiping whispers “Yeah. Ever since that Yaboku god murdered that old lady’s son and his wife she comes here daily asking Tenjin-sama to bless her granddaughter academically since scholarships are the only way that child will have a way to pay her studies.”

How unfortunate, Sakura thinks to herself as she resumes her chore of sweeping leaves. If only that Yaboku god would cease to exist, the world would become a much happier place.

-

After an excruciating long and boring day Sakura is taking the last basket of fallen leaves to the trees and bushes at the back of the shrine for disposal. As she dumps it all in the pile of leaves she notice what looks like a head of dark hair among all the orange, gold and yellow autumn leaves.

A bear. Her heart drops and she’s suddenly hit with her fight and flight response. She knows in theory she shouldn’t be scared by things like this but survival instincts wait for no one when a bear is right there.

Without even a second thought she throws the hardest punch she can manage to where she’s guessing the nose would be.

“Ahrg!” someone replies to Sakura’s punch. Maybe she should have given it a second thought.

Sakura frantically apologizes as she tries to check the nose of the poor victim she just attacked. As she does so she notice that the person in front of her was a young looking man dressed in a yukata.

“Here, let me see.” She insists as she pushes the poor individual’s forehead back and tries to move his hands out of the way, but the man rejects her aid between whimpers and grunts as he tilts his head forward and hold the right side of his face with one hand

An awkward silence falls among the two as the young man attends to his bleeding nose, spitting blood from what seems to be a busted lip and probably a lost tooth all the while Sakura just stands there.

“That was a really hard hit, uh? I’m so sorry. I never do things like this, I don’t know what came over me. I really thought you were a bear, which is ridiculous because why would you be a bear? Bears are too busy right now seeking their shelter for winter, they wouldn’t be under a pile of leaves in the back of a shrine, of course not! But why were you under a pile of leaves in the back of the shrine? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just that it’s unusual- surprising! I meant surprising. Unusual sounds like it’s something bad- which is not! Totally not.” Sakura rants on in her best effort to strike a friendly conversation with the stranger. She sighs and stops her words as she notice that the young man isn’t appreciative of her effort.

“My name is Sakura,” she decides to try a much simpler approach “what’s yours?”

The man with his right hand still holding half of his face and with a skeptical look writes on the dirt.

夜卜

Ya…to?

-

Ever since the ‘I can’t believe it’s not a bear!’ incident Sakura had encountered Yato in several other occasions. Once he was hiding at the top of a tree, other times she found him sleeping in the garden shed and each and every time she tried her luck to befriend him.

He had made it clear several times to leave him alone, that he didn’t want anything to do with her or anyone for that matter, but she was bored out of her mind most of the time and he kept coming back so might as well enjoy the company right?

As the weeks passed by, Sakura found out that Yato was a shy curious individual that just hid behind a mean attitude. The first time she noticed this was when she was talking about her first days as Tenjin-sama’s shinki. As she was talking about it she could tell that she had Yato’s full attention even though he acted as he didn’t care.

Because of this she started to talk about anything and everything in an effort to bait him into participating in the conversation. Some topics were a dead ends but there were a few that she could tell had Yato curious to know more.

-

“But why flowers? Can’t they just say things straight as it is?” This wasn’t the first time that Yato had asked something that to many could be considered obvious.

“Sometimes words and actions aren’t enough to express one’s emotions and feelings. Flowers have different meanings that can help us express what we wouldn’t be able to with just words or actions.” Sakura explained.

“For example,” Sakura continued with her explination, “the emotion of love. You can tell someone you love them but there’s a big difference between the love you feel for a friend, the love you feel for a family member and the love you feel for your lover. Flowers help communicate what type of love you want to say.”

By now Yato had warmed up enough to the point that he was constantly asking questions about anything that she was talking about in the moment.

He asked her about human prayers, about dreams and wishes, about human festivals and ceremonies, about sports and game. He asked about the different types of human relationships, about human entertainment. If humans were involved, you could bet Yato would make a question. He kind of reminded her of a little kid that was just discovering the world for the first time.

“

“Okay, but what about-“ the conversation in the garden shed was interrupted by the sound of a firetruck siren.

“That’s the 3rd one this week.” Sakura sighs. “My master says that some gods have been causing suffering to humans to amuse themselves since the amount of dedicated believers have dropped and with it the amount of things for them to do, that’s why there has been an increase in tragedies in the last couple of years.” She explained.

“That’s awful.” Yato pointed out.

“I know! How heartless can one be to call the killing of humans a game? Those gods are horrible monsters. The world would be better without them.” Sakura expressed her frustration.

“Sorry,” Sakura apologized after a sour and tense pause, “I just-”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to explain” Yato suddenly interrupts as his voice crack in the process. “I feel the same way.”

-

“Anything interesting happened today, Mizuchi?” a young looking man with almond colored hair dressed in a dark Yukata asked as he cooked some miso soup.

“Nothing much, Father.” A little girl with short dark hair dressed in a white kimono sat by the table, waiting for said miso soup. “Bishamonten-sama has lost 2 more shinki to god’s greatest secret, Takemikazuchi-sama is still trying to get a blessed hafuri, and Ebisu-sama might reincarnate soon again.”

“What about our Yaboku dear?” the man asked over his shoulder.

“He’s been going to Tenjin-sama’s shrine quiet a lot lately. I think I’ve seen him talking to a shrine maiden a few times. She goes by the name of Sakura.”

“Is he now?” Father halts everything that he’s doing for a brief second.

Father has been aware for the longest time that his son spends his time in different shrines whenever he has free time. Even though Yaboku thinks his father doesn’t know, he knows but simply decides to turn a blind eye to it as long as his Yaboku stays obedient to him.

But it is quiet surprising that Yaboku has spent most of his time in Tenjin’s shrine, even more so now that its winter time. He usually spends winter time at Binbougami’s shrine.

“Mizuchi dear, could you tell Yaboku to come visit me next time you see him? I have something I need him to take care of.”

-

Yato visits Sakura. Sakura is busy setting up some extra lanterns and some other decorations in the stone stairway. Sakura explains that New Year’s is coming and along with it a lot of humans visit the shrine as well.

“Where are you going to be during all of this?” Yato asked sternly, something felt out of place for the child-like curious Yato that Sakura knew.

“Probably near Tenjin-sama, why?” Sakura wondered

“No reason.” Yato’s response was sharp in the tongue. “I have some business I have to attend to in Kyoto so I won’t be seeing you until after New Year’s, okay?” He asked but it felt like it didn’t matter what Sakura answered in returned.

Both Sakura and Yato briefly said their farewells and just like that Yato left. Sakura made a mental note to ask Yato once he returns and seems less on edge to ask him what happened that made him act so out of character.

-

It finally was New Year’s Eve. Everyone’s visiting the shrine. Families with their children and elderly. Some couples; young love, old love, friend groups, you name it. Sakura was loving every second. She loved being close by humans, there’s something about their joy that just feels amazing.

Sakura had been sent to the entrance on her master’s orders. And just when people were starting to pray. But she can’t complain much, at least now she is surrounded by humans and enjoying the happy chattering they have amongst themselves instead of being stuck next to her master hearing the same jokes he makes every year.

As she walked there was a sudden screams interrupts any and all gleeful chat. Everyone starts walking towards where the scream came from. On the road, just before entering the shrine perimeters. A man had fainted and looked like he had a seizure and judging by the reaction of his wife, it looked like she had just seen a ghost.

People gathered around the married couple trying to wonder what just had taken place, all the while some other called the emergency line.

As all of this was unfolding Sakura knew she had to rush to her master and tell him the incident that had just taken place, but as she was turning back she caught a glimpse of a familiar black hair head and a dark yukata.

Yato?

That didn’t make sense, he said he wouldn’t be in the city by this time around. Her curiosity got the best of her and she started following the man that had an extreme resemblance to the Yato-gami she knew.

“Stop!” Sakura yells as she’s lead to the back side of the shrine, where she met Yato the first time. She notice that she’s out of ear’s range of anyone so she decides to finally test out her theory.

“Yato, wait!” the male figure pauses. Frozen in place but with his back still facing her. “It’s you, isn’t it?” Sakura didn’t need an answer. The hesitation in that man’s actions told her enough.

Yato slowly turned around, looking like a kid full of guilt. Sakura noticed he was holding a katana-like weapon but this one looked odd, like it was made of water.

“I don’t understand. Why are you here? You said you wouldn’t be here!” She questioned him to no avail. Yato remained quiet, eyes glued to the floor unable to face her. “Why… why are you acting this way? And why do you have a weapon? Did you have something to do with that man?”

Sakura was furious and frustrated and upset. It didn’t help that Yato still wasn’t looking at her but rather was very focused on the dead and muddy grass under his sandals.

Sakura noticed Yato say something under his breath and as soon as he does his katana-like weapon transforms into a beautiful young girl with short dark hair.

‘He has a shinki’ Sakura realizes.

“Hello! So you are the famous Sakura!” the little girl gleefully greets Sakura, “I’m Hiiro! I’m sure Yaboku has told you all about me.”

“Ya…boku?” Sakura whispers in disbelief towards Yato as he looks like a deer in headlights, still unable to look at her. To say Sakura was confused was an understatement. With just one sentence she had more questions than what she could actually think of. “Yato. Who is this?” unable to put her thoughts into words, Sakura decided to focus on the first thing that confused her.

Yato tries to find his voice, tries to answer Sakura but the knot in his throat is too big that any time he opens his mouth to say something, anything, nothing comes out.

“Come on Yaboku, you didn’t tell her who I was? Some brother you are.” The girl that answers instead. “I’m Hiiro. I’m Yaboku’s shinki and sister!”

“Why does she keep calling you Yaboku?” Sakura carefully questions Yato, as if she’s walking on eggshells that could turn into glass shards any second. Sakura noticed that Yato looked beyond scared.

“He didn’t tell you? His name is Yaboku.” Hiiro once again answers in Yato’s stead. She turns to look at Yato, “don’t tell me you didn’t tell her.” Yato looks like he wants to run away even though he is frozen in place.

“You’re the yaboku?” Sakura seeks confirmation from the man himself even though she doesn’t need to hear anything else. “All this time I thought that- that you- and I thought that we-“ a rush of fury clouds Sakura’s thoughts leaving her speechless.

“I- I can explain!” Yato stumbles with his words, desperately trying to gain his voice back.

“So you used me to choose your victims? Did I lead you to your victims?” Sakura questions in disbelief.

“No!” Yato frantically tries to get a word in “Let me explain, I-“

“And you even lied to me about who you were! You deceived me!” by this time Sakura was yelling at the top of her lunges

“Yes- I mean no! Sakura you got to listen to me-“

“Don’t. Keep my name out of your filthy mouth. I can’t believe I ever considered you a friend.” Sakura emotionlessly says as she wraps her arms around herself and leaves.

Yato reaches a hand out towards the leaving figure of Sakura trying to call out to her but gives up shortly after seeing as there is nothing he could say to make her stay.

-

“Yaboku. You’ve been like this for months now. Its time you snap out of it.” Hiiro pushes Yato’s shoulder as he’s laying on his side looking out to the garden.

Hiiro would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised at Yaboku’s unusual behavior. They had gone out several times now on Father’s command but whenever they did Yaboku looked so miserable that she actually felt bad for him.

“How about we go to play? That always cheered you up!” Still no answer from his brother. “Sigh. What can I do to cheer you up? Would me calling you Yato like that Sakura girl did do any good?”

Hiiro noticed that as soon as she suggested the idea Yaboku’s face had a hit of emotion for the first time since that night.

“I’ll call you that if you want me to but you have to tell me, otherwise I won’t know. Hiiro tried once again to get Yaboku to say something.

It was close, she could feel it. Yaboku looked like he really wanted to say something but just like it had happened so many times now he got caught up in so much hesitation that he gave up in whatever idea he was about to share.

But this time she almost had it and she wouldn’t let it slip away. “Look, it’s obvious you miss this Sakura girl and I could tell that she genuinely cared about you so she probably misses you too so why don’t you go talk to her?”

Hiiro was right, all that time spent with Sakura was something both of them enjoyed and if he was missing her this much it was very possible that she was missing him back. But did he had any right to go back to her? After he lied to her so much? Yato didn’t deserved her forgiveness, didn’t deserve her time or her kindness.

But she deserves an explanation and an apology. Yato thought to himself.

And with that he got up and left.

-

It was a day near the end of spring. Sakura couldn’t really tell what day it was, every day had felt the same since that night. The only thing that made the day different from other days is that now she was sweeping the Sakura blossoms instead of shoveling snow.

At first Sakura was furious. She felt angry and betrayed. After a few weeks she felt just upset and used. After that she simply felt sad and lonely. With all the time Sakura had to think she understood that she was in no position to judge a god and she also understood that it was unfair of her to cut all communication with Yaboku-gami as if they had never known each other ever. She wished she could talk to him.

As Sakura is taking the last basket of fallen sakura blossoms to the trees and bushes at the back of the shrine for disposal she sees Yato standing by the same place she first met him. That time she confused him for a bear.

“What are you doing here?” Sakura kept her voice firm and emotionless even though she felt otherwise.

“I just came here to apologize for everything I’ve put you through” Yato starts as he hands Sakura some purple hyacinths.

Sakura takes them with a shocked and hesitant but pleased expression.

“I asked the flower shop lady and she said that purple hyacinths mean deep sorrow and regret. That if I wanted to make it clear how sorry I was these were the ones to give.” Yato explains and then continues, “I’m sorry for lying to you. For not being honest about everything. For being a coward. But most importantly for being Yaboku.”

It’s not every day that someone apologizes for their existence so Sakura waited for Yato to explain further before she said anything in return.

“I know I’m the worst of the worst. I kill innocents and I don’t show regret. I destroy and taint all the beautiful things in the world for my own selfish reasons. But I promise you that the me you knew, the Yato you knew, wasn’t an act.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Yaboku. But please forgive Yato, he is a little stupid and naïve and new to all this being a good god thing but I promise that he means well and he’s trying his best.”

Sakura takes a moment to consider his words. “So what Im understanding is that you want to be the Yato-gami I know?”

Yato only nods.

“Then I suppose I’ll accept Yato’s apology” Sakura pauses as Yato’s face lights up, “but only if he promise me that he’ll give it his all to become the Yato I know he can be.”

“With your guidance I think I can do that”

#it was really fun and relaxing thinking about this what if #sakura noragami #nora noragami #noragami fanfiction #noragami #yato #yato noragami

[tanoraqui]

Nie Huaisang Gets His Shit Together Slightly Earlier and Everything Turns Out Okay AU #377

Wei Wuxian takes the Wens and Jiang Cheng goes to the Burial Mounds to confront him, and returns with a broken arm and a loud declaration that they fought to a standstill and the Yiling Patriarch is expelled from Jiang Sect

Nie Huaisang thinks about how he once saw those two half-drown each other in a squabble over who got to eat the last sweet plum, and then turn around and in perfect synchronicity spit their pits at Jin Zixuan, and thinks, sounds like bullshit but okay

(memories from when they were all fifteen should not feel this far away, but Nie Huaisang takes that thought and shoves it far enough away that it’ll dissipate before it reaches the front of his brain again. Just like the rest. It’s a good tactic!)

Nie Huaisang isn’t going to involve himself in politics, but it’s stupid that politics mean he can’t spend time with his friend. And his brother starts to say that if I won’t practice saber, then he needs to spend the free time reviewing the sect’s accounts - a fate surely worse than anything the Yiling Patriarch can deal out

So about two weeks later, there’s a knock on the wards Wei Wuxian is still building around the Burial Mpunds, and when he goes to investigate, there is Nie Huaisang with a large picnic basket. “Wei-gongzhi!” he exclaims, “It’s so good to see you! Can I come in? I brought wine!”

Wei Wuxian (slightly baffled, somewhat paranoid, very lonely): ...okay!

This happens about three more times over the next several months, until on the third - well, fourth - visit, Nie Mingjue happens to see Jiang Cheng for unplanned Sect Leader reasons at the same time, and realizes that Nie Huaisang is not, in fact, visiting Lotus Pier like he said

Chifeng-zun arrives at the Burial Mounds ready to strike the Yiling Patriarch down if necessary, and finds him and Huaisang...finger-painting with a toddler. Well, Huaisang and the toddler are finger-painting; Wei Wuxian has started trying to invent a talisman to make the paint change color continuously. They (but not the toddler) are also drinking some outrageously strong fruit brandy

This, Nie Mingjue knows because after reaming him out - and don’t think the Yiling Patriarch escapes the shouting! - he lets his brother press a small cup upon him. It’s a little sour but damn does it pack a punch

There is a 100% chance that Jiang Cheng followed him - in support of YunmengJiang’s friendship with QingheNie, of course, he says scathinglyz.Wei Wuxian’s relationships with other sects aren’t his concern anymore. (He does take some of the brandy, too, though. It is. Sweet Jesus that is strong.)

This was not a...subtle visit. Word spreads, even to places where gossip is forbidden. Especially when Nie Mingjue comes to complain to his sword brother just to have someone to complain to

Lan Xichen looks to his little brother, who is all but literally vibrating with indignation/hope/visiting was an OPTION?! and doesn’t even bother to sigh as a moment later he’s on his sword and gone in the direction of Yiling

after about a week’s worth of begging, Nie Mingjue reluctantly lets his brother visit Yiling again - ONLY if he’s accompanied by either Nie Mingjue himself, a minimum of 4 Nie Sect disciples, or Lan Wangji. One of these is clearly better than the others, and the guard more willing, so Nie Huaisang resigns himself to playing third wheel and maybe learning about the distillery process from Uncle Four

It may not stop Qiongqi Pass, is the real tragedy. Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao still want their convenient enemy to unite against. Jin Zixun still wants his petty vengeance. Jin Zixuan is still a good man.

Or maybe it does. Maybe Lan Wangji has the opportunity to spend more time with Wei Wuxian by escorting him to the wedding himself and leaps at the chance, and either Jin Zixun backs off or at the very least, Lan Wangji doesn’t kill Jiang Yanli’s dumb husband

The important thing is that even if that does happen, the backlash is...delayed. Nie Sect has seen that these people aren’t threats, for the most part. Even Wen Ning...maybe just shouldn’t be invited to combat situations ever. (No, okay, actually the Jin would want him controlled put down and I don’t think Nie Mingjue would disagree.) The Lan Sect also. And with fewer people pushing, Jiang Sect can afford to demand an explanation rather than Wei Wuxian’s head

And so it stumbles on, slowly, awkwardly and maybe fraught with the exchange of the Jin Sect Heir for the Ghost General. But the important thing is that it does stumble on, no Nightless City here...

Until Nie Mingjue keeps getting worse, temper shorter and qi less stable, even with Clarity played near-daily, and Nie Huaisang still avoids real politics like the plague but this isn’t politics, this is his brother. So he goes to get a second opinion from his best friend who specializes in fucked up cultivation, whose right-hand woman is the cleverest doctor in the world

...I think I’ve accidentally trapped myself in a corner of this ending with some sort of peaceful (if dramatic) confrontation, but in my heart it ends with Nie Huaisang sitting on a railing or something and calmly filing his nails while some corpses he got to borrow for the day burn down Carp Tower. He smirks sympathetically at Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao. “Wow, did you guys not maintain diplomatic relations with the Yiling Patriarch? How awkward for you.”

#mdzs #ficlet #the untamed #nie huaisang #my fic

[trolleybitch]

the trolley witch backstory

okay this is long overdue but i thought it was about time that i shared the official trolley witch backstory from this thread. before we start, what we know about the hogwarts express trolley witch from canon: she was hired by ottaline gambol, had been working on the hogwarts express for around 190 years by the time she met albus potter and scorpius malfoy, she had pumpkin pasty grenades and extendable fingernail spikes, and when she failed to stop the boys from escaping the train, she was inconsolable and talked about letting down ottaline gambol.

so, without further ado, her story:

the year is 1802. trolley witch is born into a poor muggle family in rural northern england and her father leaves shortly after she's born. she grows up lonely and isolated, working from a young age to help her mum make ends meet. age 11, she gets her hogwarts letter.

her mother is a bit dubious but lets her go - it's a good opportunity to get rid of the burden of looking after her. she arrives at hogwarts and is sorted into gryffindor, although she doesn't really know what that means. she doesn't make friends easily.

other kids mock her background and upbringing, and her magic skills. she never really learned to read, and with no magical family she's behind on spells and has never been academically inclined. she doesn't ask for help and her teachers don't always notice she needs it.

mid-second year, her mother dies. she doesn't find out for several weeks because who would write to tell her? she spends all her holidays at hogwarts, often alone. the gryffindor common room is all snide comments and judgemental looks so she starts to explore the castle.

in her third year she finds the kitchens. the house-elves are wary of her at first, this strange, solitary girl coming to spy on them, but she becomes fascinated by cooking and after a while they grow to appreciate her interest. they start to teach her.

by fourth year she spends all of her free time in the kitchens, cooking and baking with the elves. homework and lessons get forgotten and she lags even further behind in her schoolwork, but she learns to follow recipes and then to invent her own.

o.w.l.s and n.e.w.t.s come and go and her grades are poor, barely passing half her classes. a few teachers try to offer specialist tutoring and she accepts half-heartedly but her mind is elsewhere - she only wants to cook, to do the thing she does best.

she leaves hogwarts with nowhere to go and no friends to rely on. who would hire the lowly muggleborn girl with no qualifications? she makes her way to london - she's never been but she's heard people say it's the best place to find work.

the city is overwhelming, but she manages to find diagon alley and the wizarding community. one day when she's lurking outside the back entrance to the leaky cauldron, hoping for scraps, an old teacher passes by and recognises her.

the teacher takes pity and asks if there's anything they can do. trolley witch tells her the only thing she can do is cook. the teacher's sister works at the ministry and she knows they are often looking to take on kitchen assistants - she'll get in touch.

after a few days, she's nervously making her way to the ministry of magic for her first day. the hogwarts kitchens were big and busy but they've got nothing on the ministry; a scene of vast, barely organised chaos. her boss is shrewd and fierce, and she's set to work on the most basic tasks to prove herself.

that afternoon, a senior ministry official comes down to check on catering preparations for an event she's hosting in a couple of days. trolley witch has just finished glazing several pans of pastries. the senior ministry official tries one.

'she's new, miss' says a nearby chef, excusing trolley witch's skills.

'impressive, for a new recruit,' says ottaline gambol, looking trolley witch straight in the eye, 'this glaze is excellent. welcome to the ministry.'

an obsession begins.

ottaline visits the kitchens only occasionally but trolley witch is always waiting for her. she works harder than ever, picking up every recipe, designing new dishes, honing flavour combinations, all to make sure she's got something impressive for the next visit.

it works. the older official is mildly impressed, if a little unsettled by trolley witch's solitary, strange nature. she rarely seems to go home or interact with anyone apart from necessary conversations in the kitchens.

one day, they meet in an elevator as trolley witch is taking food to an important ministry hearing. ottaline asks for a sample and their fingers brush as trolley witch hands her a pumpkin pasty. ottaline doesn't notice, but compliments the pasty. trolley witch tries to keep her composure.

'my department is in need of an assistant catering manager, helping to design event menus and so on. think about it.'

trolley witch doesn't need to think. she accepts and begins work in ottaline's department, seeing her almost every day, watching her closely.

ottaline gambol is a force to be reckoned with - strong-willed, assertive, a powerfully skilled witch. over the next 6 years she charts a meteoric rise in power, from senior official to head of department to - in 1827 - minister for magic.

trolley witch never leaves her side. she works hard to keep honing her culinary skills, but she does more. she waits for ottaline outside meetings to walk her back to the office. she analyses the smallest gesture, the most offhand of comments. she's desperate for approval and attention from this woman who showed her kindess on her first day. by her appointment as minister, ottaline has noticed the girl's obsession. she's got more important things to do than navigate an intense crush and figure out how to let this odd, lonely girl down gently.

in 1830, ottaline is finalising plans for the hogwarts express - a new form of transport to safely deliver students to hogwarts, managed by the ministry. it's revolutionary, it's creating a storm of attention across the wizarding world. and it needs a trolley witch.

someone to cook and sell food on the journey, but someone with a keen eye to watch over the students and make sure they don't come to harm. ottaline calls trolley witch into her ministerial office and offers her the job. it's the greatest honour of trolley witch's life.

to be chosen, so specifically, by ottaline. she feels like she's finally been recognised, she's finally achieved something. she realises she'll be apart from ottaline for a while, but probably just a year or two and then they can be together again, right? she begins work.

1st september, 1830. her first day.

'good luck,' says ottaline on platform 9 3/4. 'keep these children on the train, and keep them safe. i trust you to do an excellent job for me.'

those were the last words ottaline ever spoke to trolley witch.

the train departs. trolley witch walks the corridors, distributing pasties and sweets, watching the children. they are all delivered on time and in perfect health to hogwarts - a great success. trolley witch writes to ottaline straight away to tell her the good news.

'thank you for you letter, i'm pleased to hear the journey was a success. best wishes' is ottaline's reply.

she's probably very busy, will write a longer letter soon, thinks trolley witch. she never does.

trolley witch works back in the hogwarts kitchens during the year, with only the elves for company. years pass and trolley witch continues to write long, rambling letters to ottaline, never receiving a reply. she makes the journey back and forth to london at the beginning and end of every holiday, dutifully watching over the students.

she hopes to see ottaline at the station, but never does. in 1835, tragedy strikes - ottaline, nearing the end of her second term as minister, contracts a severe case of dragon pox and dies. trolley witch sees the news in a student's copy of the daily prophet and is inconsolable. she speaks to nobody for weeks, not even the elves, even when a few other members of staff ask her what's wrong.

one day in the kitchens an elf passes by with a full tray of pumpkin pasties, perfectly glazed. she remembers the first day she met ottaline, back in that busy kitchen, and she vows to protect her legacy. she works tirelessly, baking and cooking and watching the children. they test her patience, play cruel tricks, tease her, never ask her name. she forgets the outside world, forgets who she is, thinks only of ottaline.

every journey on the hogwarts express becomes more perilous - she cannot let the children get the better of her, cannot let ottaline's work be in vain. over the decades she picks up elfish magic, learning to weaponise her food, and later herself.

she goes unnoticed by staff and students alike, existing as a constant feature of their hogwarts life, always present but never worthy of attention. staff come and go, and nobody thinks to ask how long she's been at hogwarts. she stays alive through sheer willpower.

1st september 2020.

a normal hogwarts express journey - or so the trolley witch thinks. all is well until albus potter and scorpius malfoy climb onto the roof of the train to try and escape. it's the greatest test of trolley witch's career.

it's been a long time since she was challenged like this. she does her best - pumpkin pasty grenades, armoured fingernails, but the boys escape. her world shatters around her. ottaline would be so disappointed in her - she's failed in her sole duty.

it's been two hundred years and she has never failed before. mcgonagall tries to comfort her, but it's no use. what purpose does she serve now? trolley witch hands in her notice and leaves the castle the next day, never to be seen again. she wanders the forests near the castle, thinking only of ottaline. perhaps ottaline had known all along that she would fail, and that's why she never replied to her letters, why she never visited. she gets lost, deeper and deeper in the forest, until the cold and the dark envelop her.

when the hogwarts express departs for the christmas holidays, something is missing - someone. students start to get impatient.

'where's the trolley witch? i'm hungry.'

complaints are made. eventually the ministry hires a replacement, service resumes. trolley witch fades into history, unremembered.

so next time you are thinking about cursed child, about your cute albus and scorpius headcanons - remember the trolley witch.

remember what they did to her. remember her story.

🛒 1802-2020 🛒

the end

#ccsquad #harry potter #cursed child #hpcc #trolley witch #ottaline gambol #hogwarts express #headcanons #my hcs #trolleybitch #albus potter #scorpius malfoy #this is probs the best thing i will ever write and i'm not sorry