#chapter 2: happy reapers
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Happy Reapers (Guidesman, C2)
Chapter Four: We Labourers Few
C2 on Tumblr: First - Previous - Next
(C1, The Lost Boys)
(This is a bit of a long one, but it's split up into scenes, and it's also sort of cozy.)
~~*~~
“So what’s the plan?” asked Greg as soon as they stepped outside of the barn. “Because I started thinking about Linus meeting the Great Pumpkin and Charlie Brown getting my Rock Facts Rock and Beatrice being Lucy cause she’s blue and crabby, so I didn’t hear anything you guys said.”
“Well, apparently,” Wirt snapped, though he wasn’t looking at Greg, “we’re staying here in Pottsfield for the rest of the day, even though we’re in kind of a hurry to get home!”
“There’s no need to be cross, boy,” the Woodsman said, and Greg turned to look at him. “The Pottsfielders have been hospitable and—”
“But we don’t even know if that… th-that Enoch thing will tell us anything!”
Greg perked up at the name and looked at… hmm, Schroeder. The piano one. “That’s the Great Pumpkin, Schroeder!”
“Greg—”
“I will not have you speaking of Enoch so disrespectfully,” interrupted the Woodsman, looking very sternly and loomingly at Wirt. Dad used the same exact look, but only on special occasions. Like if somebody was crabby about going to church or sassed Mom or something. “He will do as he said he would, and he will not break his word.”
“Yeah! Like Linus says!” Greg gasped—that gave him the perfect idea! “C’mon, Wirt, we gotta find the most sincere pumpkin patch so he can come there!” And he tugged on Wirt’s blue cape.
Wirt frowned and turned away. (Greg knew what that meant: he didn’t want to come this time either.) “But…”
“Boy, you must allow me a little of your trust.” And the Woodsman stepped over to Wirt, not quite so stern now. Maybe still a little looming. “By the time this day is out, you will be on your way home. And, until then, this is truly the safest place in the Unknown that you could be.”
Wirt looked up, with that funny look that meant he didn’t want to say what he wanted to say. Which might be ‘yes’ or ‘no’ sometimes. In the end, he just sighed. “Yeah, well, I guess there’s not much else we can do until we get directions.”
“Yeah!”
He shrugged too. “A-and besides, if you’re right about this Enoch... guy... we’ll be on our way home soon anyway, and we won’t have to worry about any of this ever again.”
They both stopped talking. Greg thought that was a funny kind of a place for a stop-talking. He didn’t quite get what Wirt meant with that last part, either, about any of this and ever again. But not getting what he meant wasn’t unusual. Wirt was Like That.
“Yes,” the Woodsman nodded at last. “Yes, that’s quite right. So you need only be patient ‘til the night.”
“Just like Linus!” declared Greg, accidentally swinging Schroeder around as he side-fist-pumped. If that was what the arm thingy was called. He’d asked Wirt once, but he didn’t know the name either.
“Okay, so… uh…” Wirt looked back up at the Woodsman. “So what are we supposed to actually do at this… harvest thing?”
The Woodsman didn’t smile. But he made his eyes all narrow like he might’ve. “Come with me, boys. I’ve guided you through the woods, and I can guide you through the fields.”
~*~
The fields were familiar to the Woodsman, as he led the boys down country lanes that he’d walked nearly every harvest, for years past his reckoning. He found the way almost without thinking.
They met very few on these dirt-aged roads. Those they did were mostly stragglers late to the festivities. All greeted them. Most then bustled on. But only one stopped.
“Oh, Goodman! Hello!” cried the woman, waving her kerchief. The Woodsman tipped his hat as she approached. “It’s so nice to see you! Have you been to the barn yet?”
“Yes, Mrs. Harmon, I and these boys are off to the harvest now. How are your daughters?”
“Oh, I’m just going to join them now! Leah and Tara went early—you know how they are—and, well, these old bones can’t keep up with them as well as they used to!”
She laughed. Loud and long and hard, as if it were the funniest thing in the world. Greg laughed too. Wirt only stared at them both with confused discomfort.
As Greg introduced himself and his brother, however, the Woodsman's attention was drawn away. A little breeze was stirring, rustling the autumn grass, sending a few stray leaves tumbling to the sky. He thought he felt the faintest portent of winter in its chill.
This leaf-stirring wind stirred him too, set urge in him. Urge to hasten on to their work. Urge to finish the next task. Urge, it could almost be said, to beat winter to the fields.
“Well, we must be going,” he nodded abruptly to the masked mother. “Greet your daughters for me.”
“Of course—they’ll be sorry they missed you!” Mrs. Harmon made to pass them, and he made to leave. But the woman stopped suddenly as she came to his side. She turned her carven face up to him with a little gasp of remembrance. “Oh, and thank you again, Goodman.”
“What for?” interrupted Wirt, unintentionally rude.
But Mrs. Harmon was gracious enough. There was a smile in her voice as she turned to answer him. “Why, for pointing us to Pottsfield! My girls and I’d have been wandering those woods for ages if it hadn’t been for him. And it was such a cold winter that year!”
The winter again. Like a frost, it came now to tinge his thoughts with regret. “Very cold indeed,” he murmured, eyes downcast. And they were ill, too. If only I had done more, perhaps they would not have…
“But the winter doesn’t trouble us in Pottsfield,” she continued without burden nor care. “The girls are so happy here—and I’m happy myself! So of course I must thank him.” She nodded, turning her hollowed gaze back again. “And truly, I do.”
She bade farewell to the boys, and Greg tipped his teapot to her. Before she went her way, however, Mrs. Harmon took his hand gratefully. The fingers were cold beneath the straw, and the words muffled beneath the mask. Yet, for all that, the touch somehow held warmth. For all that, her voice was soft and earnest.
“Be happy while you’re here, friend.”
The Woodsman did not speak for some time as he led the boys on. Wirt must've asked him a thousand questions in his looks. But not even a silent reply did he receive. Even Greg's voice, proclaiming enough for two, seemed hushed in these hills.
At last, they came to a field just behind town, at the back of a little white farmhouse. That was where they’d begin. Straw was always first. And, as every year, the tools they needed were already there waiting for them.
“Look at Schroeder! Haha!” Greg giggled as he balanced his frog on his rake (somehow having managed to find one just his size). The frog seemed content with his lot.
Wirt, on the other hand, seemed much less pleased. “Are—are there any gloves?” he asked, eying the field as if he expected it to bite him.
“Are they needed?” The absence of answer was answer enough. He jerked his head over toward the farmhouse. “On the stairs. Timothy Grub always leaves them out for the labourers, though they’re not often used.”
“Why?”
The Woodsman faltered.
Why?
Why should these people, with their hollowed faces and straw-bound hands, neglect to protect themselves as they worked? Why should they not shudder at the thought of black, life-taking winter? Why should they rejoice in their state? What were they hollowed of? Fear, care, discomfort, sorrow, pain?
Yes.
They were happy here indeed, and no season could trouble them.
So, taking up his rake, the Woodsman drove winter from his thoughts. “Their hands have no need to fret for the straw.”
The boy stood a moment with a doubtful squint. Then, he shrugged and headed for the porch.
~*~
Wirt could still smell the straw and stover as they rattled away from the fields. It wasn’t a smell he knew very well. But it was nice enough. It reminded him of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. A lot of things around here did that. Maybe it was something from when he was little. Or… or somewhere else.
Timothy Grub had come out of the farmhouse near the end of their work, also harvest-garbed. He and his sons (similarly dressed, but smaller in size) helped them heap up the straw. Then, tipping his hat brim, “Say, you folks oughtta ride to the pumpkin patch with us!”
“Is it a sincere pumpkin patch?” asked Greg, grinning eagerly.
Wirt grimaced: he didn’t really enjoy the thought of socializing, especially here. “Oh… we—we don’t wanna be too much trouble—”
“Oho, no trouble there! The Goodman’s a friend. Besides, the wagon’s already hitched up.”
The Woodsman thanked him for them.
So, as Wirt stared at the sky, letting his thoughts drift, here they were: rolling over dirt roads like the gentle stream of time through golden hills of memory.
In a wagon pulled by huge turkeys.
Driven by a pumpkin man.
What a weird day.
“We lab’rers few, we happy few, we many lab’rers few,” sang Timothy Grub, though his voice came out a little muffled. “We’ve fields to reap and hearts to keep and happy work to do!”
“Happy work, happy work,” Greg mumbled, kicking his legs as he fiddled with something. The Woodsman, sitting next to him, just stared, a little uncertainly. Like he was trying to figure out what to do with the kid.
Pfft. He’d need some pretty good luck for that.
Greg seemed to succeed in whatever he was trying to do. “Aha!” He held up a little paper wrapper, emptied of its sweets. “Hey, do you want a piece of candy, Farmer Grub?”
“Oh, no thanks,” the pumpkin man said over his shoulder. “I’ve got no stomach for it.”
And he laughed. Really, really hard. For no reason at all. Same as the lady earlier.
Geez, that was weird.
Of course, the weirdness was promptly joined by Greg, once again. Which was a little distracting, at least.
“Uh, Greg,” asked Wirt, eying him, “do you even know why you’re laughing?”
“Cause he was laughing!” And he popped the candy in his mouth and chewed happily, humming as he did so. The Woodsman’s brows went up in surprise.
At the sight of them both, Wirt cracked a smile in spite of the weird day, the weird pumpkin people, his own weird self. He couldn't help it.
Greg was just Like That.
~*~
“Yup, I think this is a very sincere pumpkin patch,” Greg nodded, surveying the field. “Don’t you think so, Flying Ace?”
The Flying Ace croaked.
At the insightful comment, he frowned and put a hand on his hip. “Yeah, you’re right. The sky makes it kinda glum, since it’s grey now and not blue anymore.”
He looked around. Farmer Grub was handing Wirt and the Woodsman some snipper thingies to cut the pumpkins. Was he supposed to snip them too? Or maybe he was just supposed to pick out the best ones. Or he could make the faces! That’d be fun.
Wirt leaned back, resting with one hand against the big ol’ turkey. “So, how many of these things are we supposed to get, huh? A dozen or something?”
“Ol' Berwin said to take whatever we need,” waved Farmer Grub. It looked funny with his straw hands. “So we probably oughtta fill up the cart. The harvest goes on for days, and it’s shaping up to be a plentiful year.”
Wirt frowned a thinky frown. “Okay… but, if it’s such a big harvest, how come you don’t have more people working? I-I mean, we’re the only ones out here, so—”
“No, we’re not,” grunted the Woodsman, already lifting a pumpkin. He was winning the pumpkin race!
“Wait, really?”
“Well, sure!” Farmer Grub shrugged. “These pumpkins aren’t gonna move themselves… are they?”
Wirt started to make a funny look, but the Woodsman talked first. “You see, lad, in any given part of these fields, the labourers are few. But they’re never the only ones.” He set Pumpkin Number One in the cart.
“Just like the song!” And Greg started singing the “happy work” part to himself again. Well, and to the Flying Ace.
Wirt looked from the Woodsman to Farmer Grub. He looked like he was gonna say something else. But right when he opened his mouth, the turkey he was leaning on snatched his pointy hat right off his head. And red. Pointy and red.
“HEY!”
He tried to jump and grab it back, but he tripped. He was better at tripping than jumping. The turkey stuck it on the other one’s head, and they both startled gobbling and cackling. Maybe they thought it was a funny joke. Wirt hopped and hopped, but he couldn’t reach. “Give it back, you stupid—!”
“Ho now! Ho!” barked the Woodsman, coming around from the back of the cart. He caught the turkey’s halter and held up his other hand. The turkey tugged against his hold at first. But, as soon as it started to settle down a little, he grabbed the hat. He was taller than Wirt, so he didn’t have to jump.
Greg thumbs-upped. “Haha, good catch!”
“Dogood! Boaz! Bad turkeys!” Farmer Grub scolded the turkeys (which was also funny, because he couldn’t frown with the happy pumpkin over his face). “Sorry, folks, they’re a little pesky today.”
“That’s all right, Mr. Grub,” said the Woodsman, dusting off the pointy and red hat. “No harm done.” And he handed it back to Wirt.
Wirt huffed as he settled it back on his head. “Thanks,” he said, eying Boaz and Dogood with a frown.
The Flying Ace rupped. No, Methuselah. He was in the Bible too, just like Boaz. “Yeah, you’re right, Methuselah. It doesn’t have to be blue. Grey’s a sincere colour too.”
~*~
Something small plopped down in the dirt beside the Woodsman.
“Do you think it hurts?”
"Hm?" He glanced up from his task. Greg was on his hands and knees, inspecting the pumpkins and their vines from inches away.
"When you snip their green things, I mean. I don't wanna snip them if they don't like it."
He blinked. Then, once he understood the question, he considered it (with the assumption that the plants could feel at all). "Perhaps. But I don't believe they would despise it." His hand ran along a round-ridged hull. "They were created to be harvested, after all. It is their purpose."
"Oh, right!" The lad's contemplative frown righted itself. "That makes sense. If I was a pumpkin, I'd sure want to have a cool face and a candle in my mouth!" And with that, he made a... face. Stretching his mouth into a toothy grin. Crossing his eyes. Shaping his cheeks with his fingers.
The Woodsman could not find even a question to ask. He only stared, unsure of whether to be concerned.
"Did you know that that's how pumpkins dress up for Halloween, instead of wearing costumes? It's a Rock Fact!" And Greg held up a painted stone.
A moment. Then, one little word unrolled a map for his lost soul at last. All Hallow's Eve. That's what he's talking of. And a jack-o-lantern face to make of himself. He nodded slowly. Now I under—
"So can I?"
Just as quickly, the map refurled.
"Can you what?"
"Snip the pumpkins!" And he turned his bright face upward expectantly.
Though he understood this well enough, the Woodsman wavered. Even at the Mill, he hadn't let the boy handle the tools. "We... mustn't have you snipping your own fingers, little one..."
"Aw, that's what Wirt said!" protested Greg. "I won't! I know how to be careful!"
A little sigh escaped him at the age-old claim. If I recall, there are few children in all the world with that knowledge.
"Please?"
But he knew. As his gaze turned from the tool in his hand to the pleading face, he knew. He wouldn't deny a child a chance to help. He never could.
"Here, then. Let me show you the proper way."
"Yeah, haha!"
It took a little time to show him the safest way to hold the tool (and to work out how to balance it in his small hands). But Greg seemed a quick learner at such things. And, when the blades closed easily on the vine, and the pumpkin shifted in its new freedom, the lad actually cheered.
"See, Methuselah? I did it! Just like Mr. Woodsman showed me!"
The frog ribbited approval.
"Can I carry it to the cart too? I think I'm strong enough."
The Woodsman studied its size, shifted it where it sat. Then he nodded. "I think perhaps you are."
After a moment or two (for Greg insisted that they both bring pumpkins), they headed back for Timothy Grub's cart. Young Wirt was still nearby, picking his own fruits of the vine. The turkeys had settled down by now, and Grub was counting out their harvest.
"Mr. Woodsman, I think you're a born gardener."
At the simple sentence, stark as lightning, the Woodsman's gaze jumped wide and darted down. Greg was already smiling back up.
"A what?" was all he could manage.
"It's what Old Lady Daniels called me. When I helped her clean up in her flowerbeds and her yard and stuff." Greg shrugged lightly. "I think it means you're the kind of person should have a garden, cause you know how to do gardening a lot, and you're good at this kind of stuff. And you're really good at this kind of stuff, so you're a born gardener too!"
The Woodsman blinked. Heat flooded his face. "Er... th-thank you... little one."
"Welcome."
He stared another moment, unnoticed, until he could stare no longer through his muddled thoughts. Then his eyes dropped.
A born gardener? What named me that in your eyes? He shook his heavy head. Lad, I fear you are too kind for the truth.
His gaze swept across the fields and their fruit.
A born gardener, I? Who fells what he has not planted, and roams too far and too long to see things grow?
Answer came. But not from the present.
Long-bygone days were his answer, the green before his eternal black and brown. Days when he tended to other things than twisted trees. Days when another little voice too kind begged to help. Days when the yield of the earth was not a burden.
A born gardener?
Perhaps I was, once.
"Wait, do you have a garden already?"
His words came forth slowly, though not from confusion. "A garden?"
Yet, as he turned to the child before him, he found there the wrong face. A moment. Then his remembrance shattered.
Those days were gone, and long gone.
I am a woodsman now. That is my place, and my burden. I cannot grow. And I will think back no longer on memories today.
His eyes hardened a little.
They drown too easily.
"Well, do you?"
"I have no garden," the Woodsman replied with a stony sigh, setting his orange load in the cart. "The edelwood is my crop, and the oil is my harvest."
Two "ohs" were said. One came, in realization, from the nearby Wirt. The other, more disappointedly, from Greg.
The child looked down again. Set down his pumpkin. Pondered. Then looked back up.
"You can't eat those, can you?"
"No. It is only food for the lantern."
"That lantern must be pretty hungry, then, 'cause you feed it a lot."
He reached out toward the Woodsman's side to pat its metal shell. The Woodsman turned sharply, keeping it out of reach.
But there was no anger to be mustered. When he looked down, he saw only a tiny child. A child with dirt under his nails and frog slime between his fingers and a world of childish reasonings boiling inside that teakettle on his head. A child that would soon be gone, gone away home.
Not his child. But a child nonetheless.
"Come, little gardener," he sighed, with what he hoped was a friendly look. "We've work to do."
"Happy work to do!" sang Greg—that old song, it seemed, had nested in his head like a bird in a tree. Warbling, he skipped away into the fields.
No less lost, the Woodsman followed.
~*~
Beatrice had already kind of given up on finding anybody when she turned to circle again over the town. But she still turned. One last time, she told herself. Just to make sure. Not that that's any assurance they'll actually be ALIVE if I find them, but I may as well know.
So she wheeled once more, keeping her eyes peeled. Her beady little bluebird eyes. Why couldn't she have gotten turned into a falcon or something? Then she could see better. At least there were clouds now. Earlier, with the sun out, it had been way too—
She stumbled on air. She took a second look to make sure she wasn't going crazy. But the flash of red and blue amidst golden stalks was there. Small green and tall grey solidified it: they were in that field, all right. And they seemed to be moving.
"I don't believe it," she muttered to the wind (half-relieved, half-annoyed). Then, like a tiny bird of prey, Beatrice dove. The cornfield, and its trio of new scarecrows, were her aim.
She fluttered as she came to perch on a stalk. "Well, you didn't get eaten."
"AHH!" The kid (she was sure it was "Wirt" now) jumped and almost dropped his basket. His wide eyes swiveled. They found her. Then they rolled. "Ugh, Beatrice." He shifted his weight and walked past her. "I thought you ditched us."
If she could've reddened under her feathers, she would've. Even she wasn't sure if it was irritation or embarrassment, though. Neither really mattered to her scowl.
"Maybe next time, I'll ask you to pick between honour and a fate probably worse than death. We'll see how you respond."
"Pfft, come on, it wasn't that terrifying," he lied. Oh, she could tell that was lying. He was a terrible liar. Her baby brother could've told a lie better than him.
And Wirt seemed to be aware of the fact, too. His lie left an awkward silence in his mouth, and he looked away. When Beatrice tried to stare him down, he frowned, still without eye contact.
"L-look, why don't you go bother Greg?" And he tried to use the setting-down of his basket as a distraction. "He seems to be the main magnet around here for little... woodland creatures, or... whatever."
That remark tightened her grip on the stalk furiously. Oh, really? How'd YOU like to be a little woodland creature? Maybe I'll give YOU a bluebird curse. See how your dumb face looks with a beak.
In actuality, she placed no such curse (even if it would've worked, which she still wasn't sure of). Instead, she forced her wings into a shrug. "Believe me, I would. But he found himself a different woodland creature."
"Huh?" Wirt stood up and glanced around for his brother. It took him about four seconds longer than Beatrice thought believable to spot him. The kid was prancing around under the stalks like an elephant in the corn. The old woodsman was close behind, watching him with a hesitant eye.
"C'mon, it's even happier work if you sing!"
"L-little one, I... well, I fear my voice is not the sort to make anyone happy."
"Psh. Everybody's voice makes somebody happy. Here, Crosby and me can show you how!" And he started singing some random chorus about happy work and hams to keep, plucking corn as he went. That frog of his hopped alongside. His other friend, however, only looked more lost.
Beatrice shook her little head, the slightest bit smug. Looks like your "Guidesman" doesn't know EVERYTHING, does he?
"Well," shrugged Wirt beside her, turning back to the stalks, "at least Greg's bugging him instead of me now." He plucked an ear.
"Yeah, yeah." Beatrice looked at him. Eying the corn with his tongue just poking out the side. Dork. Then she took another glance at the pair. Still noisy as a river and silent as a stone. Neither paying attention.
So she took the opportunity. Hopping onto a closer stalk, she began to speak a little lower.
"Speaking of which, you're not really sticking with that guy, right?"
The ear half-raised to Wirt's mouth froze. "What?"
"I mean, it's not like you know anything about him. How do you know what kind of things he's done, out there, alone in the woods, for years on end?"
"I-I don't need to know his life story, Beatrice," he interrupted, tossing the unmunched corn into the basket and reaching for another. "I just need to get home. And, hey," he shrugged again (which was really getting annoying), "he got us here."
Rolling her eyes, she fluttered after him and perched again. "And then what? Did you offer community service in return for not being murdered or something?
"No," Wirt scoffed. "We're just helping them out while we wait on the next step. At the end of the day, these guys are gonna give us directions. Then we'll be out of here."
Ugh, quit having plans already! "Supposedly."
This time, he turned towards her fully, complete with hand on his hip. Trying to look sternly disinterested or something. "Beatrice, is there a point to all this, or are you just being a raincloud?"
Beatrice thought up a quick deflection. "I'm just saying, I don't like it. I mean, you find all this as creepy as I do, right?"
His face twisted like an explanation was about to come out of it. "I-I mean, so maybe it's a weird... whatever it is, where they wear vegetable costumes and—"
"And worship a giant pumpkin head?"
"Follow a giant pumpkin head," he corrected (nerd), "they don't actually act like they worship it. Him. Whatever." Wirt hurriedly waved it off and took a few steps forward. A few steps closer to the others. They still didn't notice. "But they like the Woodsman. And..." He wavered. "...they seem nice."
Seriously? You're not even gonna agree on THAT? "Okay, you're in denial. That's fine. But I'm telling you," she added, glancing around, "something feels off about this place."
At that, they both seemed to poise on silence, suddenly aware of faces. Pumpkin faces, staring at them through the stalks. As if the very speaking of their strangeness had summoned them. Even Wirt couldn't ignore them.
Evidently, Wirt was more capable of ignorance than she thought. He huffed stubbornly and stomped on past her. Boy, he might as well have outright said 'I'm not about to listen to a bluebird'.
"You know what? This whole thing has felt off ever since we came into the woods. But the Woodsman told us this place is safe—which, so far, it has been! Safer than that wereling thing we ran into before."
"The what?"
"So I'm gonna wait until the end of the day." He reached for another ear. "When Enoch comes, he'll tell us what we need to know."
"Oh, and you trust this Enoch guy?"
"Who said anything about that? The Woodsman said—"
Beatrice was quick. Her voice shrank, and she bunched up her feathers innocently around her.
"Do you trust him?"
She held her breath. It was a risk. Clearly, some big thing happened with a 'wereling', whatever that was, and she could easily believe that the woodsman either ran it off or killed it. And clearly, he'd led them all the way here. Any normal kid would have every reason to trust the guy. And, too, with the woodsman so closeby, she was risking putting him on the scent (which was the real reason she'd stayed away from Greg).
But her risk paid off more than she expected. All Wirt's retorts and excuses dropped from him. His open mouth soon shut out the silence, working without words. He stared at her until his eyes flicked away and fell.
Jeepers, you'd think it was a dirty word I was getting him to say.
But maybe that was just what she wanted.
"Look, Wirt, is it?" she asked, still in a hushed voice. One stalk closer. Time to be careful. "You can think what you want, you can trust people or not. I really don't care."
Very c areful.
"But if it doesn't turn out the way you want, just remember that I owe you a favour. I can take you to somebody who will know how to get you home, if you want."
His eyes got just a little wider, and he looked up.
Gotcha.
"And, let's be honest," she added nonchalantly, wings shrugging, "I'm probably the only one around here who's physically incapable of keeping you from leaving."
Wirt wavered. But it was a wavering on whether or not to say what you really think. She was almost sure of that. "I—"
Something whipped past Beatrice, making her squawk. Though it didn't hit her, it smacked Wirt right in the forehead. It flopped upright again, quavering like the cornstalk it was. He, however, tripped over his own basket and toppled, limbs flailing ridiculously before he hit the ground.
Oh, the ground didn't hold him long. The others rushed on by her, probably not even noticing her. Greg was apologizing. His hands and that woodsman's were already reaching down to help the guy.
But Wirt wasn't looking at them. He was only watching her. So she risked a little more to give him a conspiratorial smirk. Then, she took off, leaving the cornfield and her quarry behind.
For now.
~~*~~
[And that's as far as I've got. I'm probably done for a while, what with Christmas coming up and all. But I hope you enjoyed!]
#over the garden wall#guidesman au#chapter 2: happy reapers#salt and light#otgw woodsman#otgw greg#otgw wirt#frog jason funderberker#pottsfield#otgw beatrice#writing#my fanfiction#my writing#i love this chapter#honestly just any chapter where i get to spend time in Pottsfield
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Penny for your thoughts📙
Ghost forgets reader’s birthday📙
Peppa the dog📙
Ghost teaching you how to ride a bike📙
No fun allowed📙
Take a deep breath📙
Team-building exercise📗
Moving in together📙
One for one📙
Taser training📙
Snack Attack📙
Somebody’s something📙
Soldier down📙
Paper cranes📙
Get well soon, Captain!📗
Interrogation shenanigans📙
Lift and learn📗
Invincible📙
Easter Bunny📙 (fanart by @hanjyukutamago)
One bed📗
Taking initiative📗
April Fools📙
Succession prompt📙
Promise me📙
No, soldier, no📙
Your opinion isn’t part of the recipe, Sergeant📙
Here’s a rose, now piss off📗
Ghost and the kitten📙
Aggressive mimicry📗
Ghost showering (imagine)📙
You spy with your little eye…📙
Campfire kisses📗 (render by @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot)
Meal, Under-the-Stars📗
An unlikely duo📙
Temptation📗
Eyes on the road📙
Nice shot📗
Simon’s armchair📙
What a lovely way to burn📙
The smile behind the mask📙
Pull my hair📗
Where’s my pen, Lt.?📗
Mirror📙
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Simon Riley masterlist
Main masterlist - AO3
18+ Minors DNI
Sassy - series - complete
He didn't know your name. You never saw his face.
Simon x female reader
Dead Disco - chaptered fic - ongoing
You should have gotten out.
Ghost x Soap x female reader
Simple Math - chaptered fic - ongoing
You had a plan, but never could have anticipated… this.
Ghost x Soap x female reader
The Pit and The Pit 2/2
There are some predators that thrive in winter.
Ghost x Soap x female reader
An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings)
Two Kings sit on thrones of decay, waiting for their eternal season to bloom.
Ghost x Soap x female reader
It Will Come Back
There is a darkness that creeps and crawls from all of us.
Simon x female reader
Mermaids- one shot- 8.2k words
“And with your mermaid hair and your teeth so sharp, you crawled from the sea to break that sailor’s heart” - F+TM
Simon x mermaid!reader
Happy Hunting - one shot - 4.1k words
“Passion has little to do with euphoria and everything to do with patience. It is not about feeling good. It is about endurance." - Mark Z. Danielewski
Simon x female reader
Black Sun - 5.3k words
Simon never wanted a divorce
Simon x female reader
Blurb
Light on - anthology
Simon has a new neighbor. His neighbor has a baby.
Duality - TBD
Simon loves you. Ghost does not.
Simon/Ghost x female reader
Blurb
Musings:
Ex boyfriend
Reaper
Silver tongue and scythe
Sugar Daddy AU
Alternate universe rambling
#peaches writes#simon riley x reader#ghost x soap x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#female reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley masterlist#simon riley x john mactavish#john mactavish x reader#john mactavish#cod mw22 fanfiction#cod fanfic#cod mwii#cod mw2#ghost cod#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#ghost x soap
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The one that got away 1
Coriolanus Snow x reader
Word count: 2.k
Warnings: idk?
Chapter 2
(I’m sorry this like a time skip before the games)
“It’s me or Lucy are you willing to give your life away for her!” I said you wanted the plinth prize but it seems it’s a love show of Snow and Lucy grey” I say with a smile scoffing as I hold back tears “Your over reacting Y/N! I’m just trying to win you know my current situation you sound mad!” He spits back.
He doesn’t look back at me and bites his tongue and with that I know he’s made up his mind “her or me! Her or me please..” I say looking at him watery eyes rosy cheeks I swallow the pain in my throat “I wish you the best of luck and for her” I speak in a calm voice wiping my tears as I walk away my heels clicking to ground
As I watch my tribute reaper gather the body’s one by one in the center of the arena my eyes begin to water his act of defiance takes a full on me and when he rips the capitols banner down to cover the body’s he looks into the cameras shouting I can’t control the tears in my eyes and walk away from the televisions and see Tigris’s at the exit smiling watching the tv.
I soon heard of the victory of Snow and Lucy grey I was happy for her win but I decided to not speak to Coriolanus and soon made my way home resting my head in my pink silk sheets as I change into a much compterable formal look negreo I knew it days began to fly then weeks I soon got heard of how Coriolanus was sent away to one of the distracts which hurt to here he really did anything for Lucy..
I put up my mask for every social event every gathering the perfect daughter of a well named man in the capitol but when I was home I locked myself in my room taking care of myself my mind slipping to the memories of Coriolanus white blond curls causing me to form sweat small smiles.
I was soon going on dates my mother and father had made for me I obliged some guys were sweet but stuck up or handsome and cocky I soon to think my soulmate had left and I’d have to be alone until one.. Devesh Sebastian the son of a politician he was different form the rest brownish locks that looked beautiful in the sun his eyes a light brown and sometimes gold if you looked at them in a right amount time his hair was long but a small pointy tail in the back leaving a few strand hair in the front, he dress himself nice white buttons up with a black tie black vest black coat and ideal man.
We soon got together and I brought up my heath curling hair with a bow light pink heels a white ish pinkish dress that’s beautiful land a white fur coat for an event a apply pinkish red lipstick and lip gloss (the ideal outfit it is in the bottom)
As I enter with Devesh my hand on his arm smiling giggling to his jokes and kiss him on the cheek and we part ways as I say hello to my parents and family friends and introduce myself to people I wonder what’s this event for I walk over to my mother “what’s this event for mother?” She soon reply’s in simple words “oh just this man reentering the capitol I think” she says as I nod and walk over to the drinks and grab two glasses of champagne and hear footsteps behind me.
“Oh sorry my dress is a big I’ll get out your way!” I say with a sweet smile “No need” a masculine voice responds that sounds familiar and I soon turn to face…Coriolanus snow but now his appearance is different his hair is cut shorter and styled some way back white colar red vest red coat red and red pants black shoes he’s cleaned himself so well “oh my Coriolanus! It’s so nice to see you once again!” I say with a sweet tone my voice like honey as I place down the glasses and hug him and grab the champagne glasses again.
“Y/n you look so beautiful this evening I thought I’d not see you until 20 years” he chuckles he mite look different but the way he is still feels the same “how’s it been I heard that you were sent to distract 12 to see Lucy?” I say as I’m confused on what happened “things changed different view points but I was able to come back to study under Dr. Volumnia” he speaks in a bold tone with a small smirk.
“Oh well I’m sorry to hear the part about Lucy but happy that it worked out in the end for you I have to go though bye! Croyo” I say as I walk away with the drinks in my hand to Devesh as he watches we walk away he clenches his fist as he sees me with another man thinking to him self who is that man is that her boyfriend did she not wait for me?
END OF PART ONE
This is the dress ^. This is the fur coat ^
#coriolanus snow x reader#reader#coriolanus snow#fanfic#tom blyth x resder#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games x reader#the hunger games
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Reaper 2
We are so happy about the response we have gotten to the first part of this fic, this one has been one we’ve really been enjoying writing so it’s nice to know you are enjoying it as well :)
as always, please read all the warnings for each chapter of this fic as it is darker.
Check out our Patreon for exclusive writing and early access!
Part 3 of Reaper is available there now
warnings: stalking, talk of crime and gangs, misogyny, general dudes being assholes, talk of violence, gun and weapon mentions, etc
wc: 4.8k
What exactly did one wear to a clubhouse at 7 in the morning?
Y/N had packed in a hurry but she mostly wore black so it’s not like there was a lack of outfit combinations. She opted for something she’d feel comfortable in, pulling on a pair of tights to wear under her black slip dress. It made her feel pretty and that’s exactly what she needed to lift her mood today.
The weather was finally starting to get warmer out so her hand-me-down cut would do the trick. Sterling gave it to her when she turned 18, having put a massive bunny patch over the back of it and she’d been wearing it almost everyday since.
She even put on a pump-up rock playlist as she drove behind Harry’s bike. For some, it may be excessive, but she was actually really excited to see the infamous clubhouse.
She had heard about all the fun nights they had there, Sterling always sparing the intimate details because of club rules, but she knew it was because she was his little kid sister and always would be. The fact that Harry was taking her there made her feel like she earned it, but it was definitely because of the stalker problem. She’d still tell herself that though… for her own sake.
The clubhouse wasn’t so much a house as it was a warehouse, hidden by the outskirts of the city. Stepping out of the car the smell was the first thing that hit her. It wasn’t exactly glamorous, but neither were bikers.
Harry’s face held a hint of amusement, making her feel a little warm. She obviously hadn’t been expecting this, but his never ending stare unnerved her.
However, the amused looked dropped when he stopped her before she even rounded the car. His face was deadly serious as he stepped in front of her, his broody energy back with vengeance- like he suddenly remembered why they were here.
“Please, Bunny. Listen to me in there. The guys would never hurt you. But they’re flirts and real assholes. Don’t take what they say to heart. Stay by my side.” He placed his hands on her jacket covered arms, initiating the touch first.
“Whatever we talk about in there? Know it’s in your best interest. They’ll think you’re a new girl coming in to fuck but I’ll make sure they know you’re off limits. Viper knows what went down, he has some suggestions. You’ve met him before.” Viper was a very scary looking man at 6’5, bulky muscles, full beard and covered neck to toe with ink. But he was a genuinely good guy. She had met him at Sterling’s family birthday party when he rolled up to bring his own present.
“Once the plan is laid out, we’ll let the rest of ‘em know what’s going down and they’ll be able to protect you. The guys with this patch-” He pointed to his cut where his Devil’s Keepers patch was. “They’re patched in and the safest. If they don’t have one, they’re a prospect. Being a bitch for us to prove they’re worthy of comin’ in.” He explained. She really didn’t have a clue, but luckily kept up.
“Be good for me, yeah?” His voice softened a little bit. To most, it wouldn’t be noticeable, but she noticed it. He wanted her to be good. It was something that felt like a goal. Be good and maybe get some more of this tone.
“Yes, sir.” She nodded, giving him a cute but serious face to show she understood and was going to follow his directions. She could also tell that he liked it, the way his brows flickered and his demeanor shifted into something she had never seen from him. It’s like he didn’t expect her to flirt with him.
Hooking her arm around his, she let him lead them into the building where the stench intensified. A deadly mix of booze, sweat, smoke, and probably piss— how appealing. It would take some getting used to, she didn’t dare make a face though.
“Oh look what the cat dragged it, it’s the Reaper himself!” One of the men greeted loud enough for everyone to hear, a chorus of greetings following shortly after.
All eyes however were pinned on her, she could feel them all over her body. She wondered if it was just because she was hanging on Harry’s arm or if it was truly because she was new but nothing could have prepared her for the comments that followed.
“Got a new bitch, huh?”
“Never thought I’d see the damn day!”
“Sexy little thing, do a spin!”
“Show her off, Reaper!”
“Damn, the tits on that one. Want to come over after you’re done with him?”
Harry stood silently, eyes cold at the jarring. He didn’t like it directed at her. He’d killed men for less, despite her lack of knowledge. His jaw clenched tightly as he tried his best to not act impulsively. This was her, this was Bunny.
He snarled his lip and decided the gun would be overkill, opting for an out of character snap.
“Fuck off.” He growled. “S’fucking Bunny. Silver’s sister. Have some respect.”
Immediately the air turned cold, awkwardness seeping in. His breathing was heavier. Of course, he had tried to prepare himself for the parade of talk but it pissed him off regardless, pulling her closer to his body.
“Well, fuck.” A voice coughed out. It was truly a sight to see, massive bikers with scary auras looking like pups who just got in trouble.
“Yeah. Watch your fuckin’ mouths around her. She’s not a pussy for you. Not a hand on her. Goin’ through enough without havin’ to deal with shitty sex.” He narrowed his eyes, the warning loud and clear as his hand ran over her shoulder.
The Reaper didn’t bring women here. He only slept with fresh ones, but he avoided repeats and everyone knew that.
“They won’t bother you with that locker room shit again.” He dropped his voice to a whisper, anger still palpable within it. “Let’s fuckin’ go. Before I start throwing punches.” He felt the red behind his eyes and needed to get her out of there.
She hadn’t said a single thing since arriving, just looking between everyone with big eyes. Like a bunny. Y/N wasn’t sure how or when she got the nickname but it did fit her perfectly. She was very bubbly and jumpy, very fast. Even qualities like her blank stare or the way she scrunched her nose when she was unhappy.
Sterling was the one who started pointing her habits out, affectionally rubbing her head whenever she did something akin to it. So it stuck.
Following Harry down a dark hall with a flickering light, she felt a nervousness start to brew in her belly as the giddiness of the morning faded. They were here to discuss her stalker and the plan ahead. It was all starting to kick in. It smelt so dank, there must have been a leak in the wall but whatever it was, it didn’t make her feel any better.
Harry knocked three times on the large metal door, pushing it open with a creak and allowed her to step into the room first. He had his hand placed on the small of her back beneath her jacket, both for his comfort and hers. He could tell she was anxious, her slightly bent knee bouncing every so often was an obvious tell.
“If it isn’t Bunny and Reaper.” Viper was sitting behind a large Mahogany desk, hands behind his head as he stretched. “Get the fuck in here.”
Harry let her go first, the couch in front of the desk taking both of their bodies. He could feel how anxious she was and it made him sympathetic. It’s why he hadn’t brought her here despite her curiosities. His arm curled around the back of the couch, almost in a protective way.
“Wish it was under better circumstances.” Viper sobered up, hands clapping together on the desk. He was a very large man and intimidating despite Harry’s insistence he was a good guy.
“Now… Reaper’s told me about what he knows. Black truck with a large scratch. We’ve been putting feelers out for that, so we hope to have someone with information come to us soon. But until we have some solid shit, I think you know that staying with Reaper is the best thing.”
She nodded quietly, looking to Harry for reassurance. He offered a little by brushing his finger against her shoulder once.
“The thing is, we’ve helped people with scum like this before. He’s obviously ballsy to get into your damn house in the middle of the day. He hasn’t approached you yet which makes it tricky… but we figured we may need to lure him out.” Viper exchanged looks with Harry, nodding as he continued.
“We discussed last night… with protection of the club, of course, you’re gonna have to have a tail whenever you’re not with Reaper. One of the men will stand guard. It ain’t ideal, but it’s what we will do until we find the fucker.”
“Uh…” Bunny swallowed. Harry nodded again to urge her to ask her question. “Lure him out? How?”
This was the part Harry was dreading.
“Reaper’s going to claim you. You’re gonna be his girl, for all appearances sake. Make him think you’re dating.”
Dating? Harry agreed to this? For her safety? Could he act? He was going to give up his solo life for this? So many questions were popping into Y/N’s head.
“And having Harry claim me is meant to lure him out of hiding?” Bunny thought it was a fair question, thinking that if she was her stalker having Harry around would actually have the opposite effect. “You think the man has a death wish?” She asked with a small and awkward chuckle, trying to crack a joke to lighten the mood for her sake.
“And if the man is stalking me he knows who Harry is. He’s been by my house pretty regularly since Sterling left…. But then again what do I know about men and their fight for dominance.” She sighed, smoothing out the skirt of her dress.
“The guy wants you to know he’s watching. He’s moving and taking shit on purpose. To me, it seems like he’s trying to talk to you silently. In his mind it makes sense.” Viper sighed.
“I do think he has a death wish, actually. Most stalking cases end in a murder-suicide. Not to scare you, though. We won’t let that shit happen.” Harry could feel her tense up at Viper’s words.
Despite his self control, he couldn’t help himself from trying to comfort her. His hand curled around the back of her neck and squeezed a little, trying his best to make her feel at least a little less tense. He was there. He wasn’t going to let shit happen to her.
“He’s going to want to let you know he’s there and you’re with the wrong person, Bunny.” Harry said quietly. “They get more agitated. It’s why we will keep someone on you at all times, so he doesn’t have a chance to get to you alone- but he’s going to be pissed and upset that you’ll be dating someone.”
Harry had thought about it long and hard over the phone call and the night before falling asleep. “If you don’t want to… I’m sure we can try and trace him in other ways. But we don’t think he’ll come out of his bitch hiding hole so fast if he doesn’t think there’s a threat to the end goal. He wants you.”
That was a tough pill for him to swallow. A crazy person wanted Bunny. Sweet, sensitive Bunny. He understood her appeal, all too fucking well… but that didn’t mean the man had to resort to stalking. He could man up and ask her on a date and her reject it- but he wasn’t right in the head.
Oh. Oh.
Clearly, she had no idea what stalkers were actually like. In her head, it was just some creepy guy who wanted her attention and went to great lengths to get it, which glosses over the true sentiment of the act. This man was fucking crazy. He spent 3 whole months watching her and coming into her room.
It was hitting her now, the realization of how scary it was. She had been creeped out before this conversation, sure, but now she was starting to feel ill as all the memories of the past three months began to be consumed by a cloud of grey. Every memory tainted by the fact that this creep might have been there watching her the whole time, trying to get to her, to do god knows what.
There was no way that she could go back home with that thought so present in her mind. This creep wanted her. So much so the club was convinced the man would take violent action against her.
Harry could feel the tension building in her neck, her heart beat so fast and hard that he could feel it even with his thumb just gently pressed to her skin.
“I’ll do it..” She cleared her throat, feeling a little bit of dryness in her mouth that she needed to clear before she continued. “But I want to make sure my ma is safe too.“
“Of course.” Harry nodded. “We’ll have someone stationed at your house and at the hospital. Put in a security system too. We’ve got to let her know, Bunny.” He murmured, looking at her with a sadness in his gut.
It was hitting her and he could see it. The way she slumped slightly and the bouncing of her knee started up again. The gravity of it coming into play. Of course- they could be wrong and the guy could fuck off. That would be the most ideal thing, even if Harry did want to send him down to hell. But it was doubtful.
“Reaper’s right. We take care of our own.” Viper patted his desk, looking at the poor thing. “Good news is? You’ve got us on your side. You’re the safest girl in the damn world with us with you. Especially Reaper.” He gave her a wink. “He can be a scary fucker.”
She’d never seen him in a situation that called for his namesake. Thank fuck. Harry knew she’d look at him completely differently with that. He was not the man she knew when he got pushed to his limit.
“Gonna make sure all the brothers know it too. I’m sure they’ll try their hand at charming you but you’re Reaper’s girl right now. Make sure you make it believable if he’s watching. You never know when he is…. Speaking of.” Viper looked over to Harry.
“We need your phone while you’re at breakfast. Wiz is going to check and make sure there isn’t any tracking software or bugs on it. Left it in the car, right?”
She had, despite confusion about Harry’s order. “Good. He’ll go grab it while we eat. Do you have any questions for me, little rabbit?” Viper asked. The more she talked to him, the more she got comfortable with him. He was on her side, thank god. She wouldn’t want to know how he would be if she wasn’t.
“Not at the moment, no.” She shook her head slightly, turning to look at Harry once again. It seemed like he was going to be her only comfort through this and she hoped he wouldn’t regret his decision.
Bunny could be a bit of a handful. He’d seen her in her bouncy state— talking at the speed of light, always up to no good. A handful, but a playful one. She was more worried about what he would think of her when she really let her emotions go.
Though he had known her for years and seen her in every state imaginable, he had yet to see her breakdown. She’d never let him see her be truly vulnerable or how she got carried away by her feelings. Y/N was only so strong, she couldn’t hold everything in for long and she knew he would get the worst of it now they were living together.
Normally she wouldn’t care, but it was Harry. Harry who she desperately wanted to impress, Harry who would now be giving her a taste of everything she’s ever wanted all for a stalker. She was scared she’d play the part a little too well.
There was no point in thinking about it now, the plate of food in front of her was enough of a distraction for the time being.
His arm stayed around her chair. The guys had the decency to look sheepish as they muttered their apologies but Harry was still not too pleased.
It wasn’t logical, no. He knew they didn’t know and it would be a whatever response to other girls who chose to come here and knew what they were walking into- though he wasn’t one to be a complete ass and talk about women the way some of them did. That didn’t mean it didn’t bug the fuck out of him.
It was Bunny. She was someone he was protective of. Even more so, that small seed of something else he was trying to tamper down didn’t seem to die, especially with the new development. He’s going to have to touch her, to hold her, to make it seem like they were a thing.
Living a fantasy until all this shit was over and he would let her go so she wouldn’t be wrapped up in the dirty shit that was his life.
“Eat.” He nudged her leg with his. “It’s good. Promise.” As unappealing as the clubhouse could be, the girls who worked the kitchen knew what the fuck they were doing.
It’s not that the food didn’t look good or that she wasn’t hungry— she was starving when she woke up this morning. Bunny was never one to turn down food, but the conversation they’d just had left her with little to no appetite.
Not wanting to seem rude, she took a fork full of tomato and eggs into her mouth followed by some bread, and chewed. It was delicious and spicy, just how she liked them.
“The girls cook these? Can I see the kitchen after?” She blinked up at Harry with big eyes. Of course, cooking would be what got her out of this mood, but he could tell there was still some residual anxiety creeping. He knew that would take a while to go away though.
“Maybe I can cook a meal for everyone soon… as a thank you for the hard work and stuff.”
“I’m not sure.” Chances are the girls wouldn’t be so nice. There were a few that were married to a few of the brothers but they didn’t come around all the time. Viper’s woman was someone he could see her getting along with, but the women in the kitchen were trying to become like one of them.
“I think maybe we’ve had enough of the clubhouse today. Can cook them something another time. I’ll let you do it by yourself.” He had already finished his food but he wanted to watch her eat a bit more.
Since it was obvious she was having issues, he took the fork with a sigh and picked up another bite. “Cmon. Eat a few more bites so you don’t pass out on me when we go to the damn store.”
Truthfully, he wanted to be a bit selfish and keep her cooking to himself. He wouldn’t, because cooking for people made her genuinely happy, but he didn’t like that other people would experience it.
“You can cook at my place, though. Whatever you want. I never use the kitchen so you’ve got free reign of it.” He was trying. He really was. Of course he didn’t want to say no to those pretty eyes, but she was already overwhelmed. She needed down time in a smaller, less overstimulating place. His place.
—
She could feel the weight being lifted off her shoulders the moment she left the clubhouse. As much as she hated to admit, it probably wasn’t the best place for her to be, but it felt familiar to her in a way that should be alarming.
Oh well. Right now, her mind was trying to focus on breathing regularly with Harry so close to her.
She was standing by the shopping cart, reading over the list off to the side when she felt his presence show up behind her. The warmth radiating from him created contrast between him and the chilly air of the grocery store, making her shiver.
“You cold, Bunny?” Harry whispered in her ear, slowly wrapping an arm around her in an attempt to provide some additional heat. He would be lying if he said this was part of the act, in all honesty, he wasn’t sure it was ever going to be an act. He’d deal with those consequences later.
He heard the catch in her breath as his hand splayed across her stomach, looking over her shoulder at the shopping list. He’d never held her quite like this before, but it seemed to be a way a couple would stand.
“Y-Yeah.” Her voice was slightly weak as she tried to gather her bearings. Harry was wrapped around her and she could feel his warm chest leaking through the fabric in the center of her back. The other part was cool from the leather cut, his hair tickling her slightly. “A little. I’m always cold in this store.”
“M’sorry, sweetheart.” The name dropped from his lips without realizing but it didn’t sound bad. It was what naturally came out. “We can go quickly.” His knuckles brushed over the material of her silk dress, loving the feeling of the softness against his rough hand. “This alright? Touching you?” He murmured against her ear. “Just testing it out.”
Also enjoying it. Sterling would kick his ass.
“Mhm…” Bunny was starting to realize this would be a lot harder than she thought. She could feel the way her body began to buzz at his words, his lips brushing the shell of her ear making her unexpectedly weak. They had barely even started this whole couple thing and she was already prepared to fold from a simple touch.
Not many people touched her like this, so delicately as if she was about to break. She hadn’t expected Harry of all people to have such a gentle touch, but today would be full of surprises it seemed.
“We just um… just the snacks left and we can go to check out,” Y/N confirmed, collecting herself so she didn’t seem as affected by it. “Do you want any other fruit while we are here?”
She was stalling. She knew he didn’t want any more fruit, but she didn’t want to move and didn’t want him to stop touching her.
“Fruit?” He chuckled under his breath. “Mm… no. I think we’re covered.”
The cart had every berry in there, with some apples, pears, bananas, and clementines. He’d thrown those in when he remembered her preference for those over regular oranges.
“Let’s get the snacks.”
He pulled off and let her take the cart, following close behind. It was going to be a lot harder to keep himself in check when now he was not only allowed but encouraged to touch her in those soft ways. Ways he rarely ever did with a woman.
Well, fuck.
—
Unpacking the groceries was a quiet and slightly awkward debacle. She was a bit uncomfortable and he could see it, making him wonder if it had been his stunt at the store.
She’d shed the jacket she had forgotten in the store and stood in his kitchen with her skimpy little silky dress that made his cock stir up, her hair flowing behind her back.
If she was really his, he wouldn’t let her leave the area without ripping the tights and coaxing a few orgasms just with his fingers- but she wasn’t. despite how his brain and cock were trying to fight one another.
“Y’sure what happened at the store was okay?” He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking at her back as she paused from placing the snacks in the pantry. He’d try to help but he didn’t want to crowd her space. “Cause you’re being awkward as shit.”
“I am?” Y/N looked at him confused, of course, she felt the tension but she was choosing to ignore it. An attempt at tricking him to protect her truth. She felt like it would be more embarrassing to admit that she was still feeling the tightness in her stomach from how excited she was.
It was just a touch. But it was a touch from the one person she had been craving and this wasn’t the last. No, they had to do this in public all the time. Until the stalker starts making himself known.
“I would have said something if it wasn’t.” She reminded him, she wasn’t a stranger to speaking her mind. Y/N just couldn’t speak her mind about this without exposing herself and her 4-year long crush. “I promise I’m fine.”
His hands dropped from his pockets as she turned back to the pantry, avoiding his eyes again.
What was this about then?
He approached again, hands gripping her hips and turning her around so she leaned against the counter. “You’ve got to be vocal with me.” He rasped. “Need to know what shit you’re okay with and what you aren’t. Can’t have shit like this happen where you come home and act all distant when you were fine before that.” Fine was putting it lightly, but.
“For this to work, I’ve got to act like you’re my girl. And you know what that means, Bunny?” He tilted his head, stepping closer to her as she shook her head.
“Means I have to touch you. Get in your space. I’m gonna have to sweet talk you and pull your body into me.” He did just that. “M’gonna brush your hair back and get real close, and you’re going to have to act like you like it.” He crowded her back against the counter.
“M’gonna have to kiss you, too. Get handsy, once you’re comfortable with that. I need you to use your voice and tell me you can be a good fuckin’ girl and communicate this shit with me.” He spoke matter of fact, but he could see her pupils dilating.
Interesting.
“I won’t do any fucking thing you feel uncomfortable with. You’ve got to give me something here, babe. Not good with me grabbing at you, not good with kisses, let me fuckin’ know. I know you’re good at using that mouth to babble your head off, don’t go silent on me now.” He held the side of her neck.
“You get me? Tell me what shit you like. It needs to feel good to you.”
“It does.” She answered too quickly for her liking. He knew her so well, could read her like a book, he knew something was up but there was no way she was going to tell him. He’d just have to deal with her being quiet while she figured out how she was going to navigate it all.
“Can do whatever… I trust you,” Bunny couldn’t look away from him. The look in his eyes from earlier was back and she was worried if she looked away she wouldn’t see it again. “We can sell this. Trust me.”
She knew she wouldn’t have any problems with making it look believable, she was more concerned about him believing she was acting.
“I’ll follow your lead.”
It was really that simple. She wasn’t a dominant person, anyone could see that. Sure she had a mouth on her and a temper, but when it came to making moves, she only acted when she was certain she’d get a positive reaction. She didn’t handle rejection well.
“Good.”
He was still skeptical, but for a different reason. She had reacted… interestingly. It was something he would need to dissect in the coming days, but if he didn’t know better? He’d think she really enjoyed his hands on her.
She had sagged into him and kept eye contact. Despite being quiet, she had turned fluid the moment his hands touched her. Could she fake that reaction? Time would tell.
“Good girl.” His thumb gave two appreciative taps on her skin before pulling away, taking a step back. He didn’t want to, that little seed in him trying to push back against his logic, but he did it anyways.
“I know this shit is just hitting you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry this son of a bitch is still out there and not 6 feet under like he should be for making you feel unsafe.” Harry murmured into the kitchen. “But you’re safe. You’re okay. No one is getting to you in here or while I’m around.”
It was the comfort she needed. At least, he hoped. “I’m going to grab a shower. I’ll do the dishes since you’re cooking.” With that, he disappeared into his bedroom for a breather.
How was he going to do this? To touch her the way his hidden desires have been craving and then have to give that shit up? Already his hands twitched by his side to go back and grab those hips. Pull her body into his. He couldn’t, though. Especially not now.
The poor thing was in shock. She hadn’t realized how serious this shit was until now and he understood it was scary for anyone- let alone someone like her. A bit sheltered. She had been protected forever. She didn’t know the evils he did. Hopefully, he could keep it that way.
#dark Harry#bikerry#Reaper#writing#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles smut#Harry Styles Fan Fiction#harry styles#harry styles one shot#harry styles oneshots#harry styles reader insert#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurb#harry styles imagine#harry drabble#harry styles fic#harry styles series#one direction#one direction smut#one direction fanfiction#one direction one shot#one direction imagine
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List of Video Games Turning 10 Years Old in 2024
Alien: Isolation
Assassin's Creed: Rogue (the one where you play as an Assassin turned Templar.)
Assassin's Creed: Unity (the one set during the French Revolution.)
Atelier Escha & Logy: Alchemists of the Dusk Sky
Azure Striker Gunvolt
The Banner Saga
Bayonetta 2
The Binding of Isaac: Rebirth
BioShock Infinite: Burial at Sea (the DLC where you go back to Rapture)
A Bird Story (a sort of spin-off of "To the Moon")
BlazBlue: Chrono Phantasma
Borderlands: The Pre-Sequel! (is this a sequel to 1 or a prequel to 1? I forgor)
Bravely Default (in North America)
Broken Sword 5: The Serpent's Curse
Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare (the one with K*vin Sp*cey)
Captain Toad: Treasure Tracker
Castlevania: Lords of Shadow 2 (to date, the last new Castlevania game to release)
Child of Light
The Crew (going offline at the end of March)
D4: Dark Dreams Don't Die (a wonderfully strange game from the guy that made Deadly Premonition)
Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc (in North America)
Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair (in North America)
Dark Souls II
Deception IV: Blood Ties
Demon Gaze
Diablo III: Reaper of Souls
Disney Infinity 2.0
Divinity: Original Sin (from the team that would go on to make Baldur's Gate 3)
Donkey Kong Country: Tropical Freeze
Dragon Age: Inquisition (the winner of GOTY at the very first TGAs)
Drakengard 3
Earth Defense Force 2025 (EDF! EDF! EDF!)
The Evil Within (from the creative director of Resident Evil)
Fable Anniversary
Fairy Fencer F
Far Cry 4
Freedom Planet
Guilty Gear Xrd Sign
Hyrule Warriors
Inazuma Eleven (in North America. And digital only.)
Infamous: Second Son (as well as its expansion, First Light)
Kirby: Triple Deluxe
The Last of Us Remastered (just one year after the original version came out...)
The Legend of Korra (the game from PlatinumGames that you can't buy anymore)
Lego Batman 3: Beyond Gotham
Lego The Hobbit
The Lego Movie Videogame
Lethal League (from the team that would go on to make Bomb Rush Cyberfunk)
Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII (the third and final chapter of the Final Fantasy XIII trilogy)
Lisa: The Painful (yes, really)
LittleBigPlanet 3
Lords of the Fallen (not to be confused with Lords of the Fallen, which came out in 2023)
Mario Golf: World Tour
Mario Kart 8 (the original version)
Metal Gear Solid: Ground Zeroes (the prologue to Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, which came out 18 months later)
Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor
Might & Magic X: Legacy
Murdered: Soul Suspect (it's like Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective, but not as good)
Natural Doctrine
Oddworld: New 'n' Tasty! (a from the ground up remake of the first Oddworld game from 1997)
Pac-Man and the Ghostly Adventures 2 (yes, it got a sequel. I don't know how or why.)
Persona 4 Arena Ultimax
Persona Q: Shadow of the Labyrinth
Pokemon Omega Ruby & Pokemon Alpha Sapphire
Professor Layton and the Azran Legacy (the last time that Professor Layton himself was the protagonist. At least, until the New World of Steam comes out)
Professor Layton vs. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney
Pushmo World
Risen 3: Titan Lords
Sacred 3
Samurai Warriors 4
Shadowrun: Dragonfall
Shantae and the Pirate's Curse (the 3rd one)
Sherlock Holmes: Crimes and Punishments
Shovel Knight (yes, really)
Skylanders: Trap Team (the 4th one)
Sniper Elite III
Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric
Sonic Boom: Shattered Crystal
South Park: The Stick of Truth
Steins;Gate (in North America)
Strider (the one from Double Helix)
Sunset Overdrive
Super Smash Bros. for Wii U and Nintendo 3DS (or Smash 4 for short)
Tales of Xillia 2
Tales of Hearts R
The Talos Principle
Theatrhythm Final Fantasy: Curtain Call
Thief (the reboot)
This War of Mine
Toukiden: The Age of Demons
Transformers: Rise of the Dark Spark (this game merged the storyline of the War for/Fall of Cybertron games with the storyline of the Michael Bay movies. I’m not joking)
Transistor
Valiant Hearts: The Great War
The Vanishing of Ethan Carter
The Walking Dead: Season Two
Wasteland 2
Watch Dogs
The Witch and the Hundred Knight
The Wolf Among Us (sequel this year!)
Wolfenstein: The New Order
Yaiba: Ninja Gaiden Z
Yoshi's New Island
#alien#assassins creed#atelier series#bayonetta#the binding of isaac#bioshock#blazblue#borderlands#bravely default#call of duty#castlevania#danganronpa#dark souls#diablo#divinity#donkey kong#dragon age#drakengard#the evil within#fable#far cry 4#freedom planet#guilty gear#inazuma eleven#kirby series#the last of us#legend of korra#final fantasy 13#lisa the painful#mario kart
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Silliest Pre-Isekai Death BONUS Poll
(This poll will have no impact on the tournament. It's just for fun)
["Anti-Propaganda" that attacks other characters is NOT allowed. Please only give reasons to vote FOR a character.]
Reinhardt from The Demon Prince Goes to the Academy
Cause of Death: High blood pressure from reading mean comments on his novel(s) :(
Submission:
He was a writer and his novels were SO shitty. Every novel had shallow characters, tons of plot holes, and it ended up with "and then meteor hits and everyone dies". The readers were, simply put, NOT happy. They constantly wrote stuff like "what the hell is going on in author's head?!?" "the author can't even do basic story telling i could rewrite it even without trying"
Reinhardt saw these comments and... dropped dead on spot. That's right. He died of haterz.
When he saw own body, plopped dead on keyboard before a screen with displayed haters, there was a grim reaper. Turns out, he pissed off SO many people and to such level, it amassed him bad karma to such degree he was going to go to hell
That's right, shitty writing is a SIN and he was NOT going to see the pearly gates of heaven
To atone for the greatest sin of being pisspoor writer, instead of going to hell, he was given other option, to live as a character in one of his novels. But, as said before, they were Bad. None had a happy ending. So he only could choose a lesser evil.
Which, turned out to be a character in an initial setting, meaning right under the siege.
Shen Qingqiu/Shen Yuan from the Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System
Submission 1: He died from reading this long running webnovel that he would faithfully pay for legally, abd then rip apart every little thing about it he didnt like. It was bad. He read the last chapter, and was so angry either he ate spoiled yogurt when he wasnt looking and died of food poisoning, or choked to death on a bun. Later he would meet the author who also isekaied into it, and then said author would say that he was a super fan.
Submission 2: died from choking on a bao lmao loser (affectionate) and then tripped on some wires and extra-died by electrocuting himself
Submission 3: Okay it gets a bit complicated here but. There are a few versions of how it happened. In the first he is reading shitty Web novel and gets so fucking angry at the ending that he just spontaneously combusts and isekai's into the scum villain in the very novel he was flaming. In the second be chokes on a bao (while flaming the novel's ending) and dies, again isekai'ing into the scum villain. The only fact that makes the second death funnier is that the novel he is reading is a heterosexual harem collecting story that is slowly changed into gay fantasy romance through the events of SVSSS's plot, which makes the "choking on balls to death" thing so fucking much funnier
Shang Qinghua from The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System
Submission: Got too excited roasting a hater which lead to him spilling his noodles which led to him electrocuting himself. All because he was making fun of mr.Peerless Cucumber's masochistic attachment to his novel
#reinhardt#dpa#reinhardt dpa#shen qingqiu#shang qinghua#svsss#mxtx#polls#silliest pre isekai death tournament#silliest pre isekai death bonus polls#queue
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Love in the Dark Chapter 2
Kisuke Urahara x reader, mini fanfic series.
Chapter 2: When the past catches up.
110 years later...
You've been residing in the World of the Living since the incident many years ago. The streets of Karakura Town are mostly silent, the occasional hollows appear and you take care of them.
You weren't sure what happened to Kisuke Urahara. Aizen might've been telling the truth or Kisuke could still be in the Soul Society for all you know. You were almost praying that he was still in the Soul Society, being a leader and happy.
As long as Kisuke is happy and doing what he loves, you'll be satisfied either way. As long as he's not alone then he'll be okay. You miss him everyday...wishing you could be with him.
You wish you could be with Kisuke without bringing danger or attention to him. Aizen Sosuke has eyes everywhere and you won't risk it.
You were still a Soul Reaper, but you've been keeping your identity a secret. Wearing a black cloak and having your sword tuck in your side.
Then there's Kisuke Urahara. Also, residing in Karakura Town running a tiny shop on the edge of town. He thought about you every single day, wondering what had happened.
He never thought that you would leave him, you expressed your love for him so often and never showed any signs of leaving. When Kisuke woke up the next morning to find you gone, he was devastated.
Almost as devastated as he was when he was banished from the Soul Society for hollow experiments, that he never participated in. It was a stab in the heart, losing you and then his entire life.
Kisuke mourns you everyday as if you're dead. He assumes that you are, just to ease his pain. He spiraled for a bit before Yoruichi joined him, leaving the Soul Society behind and he decided to open up his shop.
The waves of spiritual pressure ripple through your body. It makes you freeze for a moment, feeling spiritual pressure so familiar, it shakes you to your core.
It's Byakuya Kuchiki... and Renji Abarai. You would never forgot the feeling of the noble's spiritual pressure.
Your feet carry you to the spiritual pressure where you see Byakuya Kuchiki, Renji Abarai, and Rukia Kuchiki. Your eyes flicker down to Ichigo Kurosaki laying face down on the ground, injured and near death.
You have heard of Ichigo Kurosaki, who accidentally took Rukia's spiritual energy.
"Y/n...it's been a long time," Byakuya speaks up. Something's different. This isn't the same person Byakuya knew before.
"I'm surprised you recognized me. Some would say too long, but I'd prefer to never see you again," you speak firmly, the wind blowing back your hood.
"I would have to agree with you. I'd prefer we didn't have to meet on such vulgar terms," Byakuya sighs out with annoyance.
"I assume that you're trying to take Rukia back with you because she broke the rules and now she has to be executed, hm?" you ask, your eyes raking over Rukia's fragile frame.
"I'm going back on my terms," Rukia speaks up with confidence and you chuckle with disbelief.
"Rukia, I didn't think you were that stupid. I mean, your friend is lying here on the ground, on the brink of death and you chose to go back to your noble brother. I can't say I'm that surprised," you shrug your shoulders, taking a step and standing in front of Ichigo.
Your hand shoots to the handle of your sword attached to your side and your fingers wrap around the hilt. Renji glances down at your side, almost hidden by your cloak.
"I can take her, captain," Renji speaks up, stepping forward with a cocky grin on his face and his sword slung over his shoulder. You cock an eyebrow at the young soul reaper and scoff quietly.
"You'll never win, but you may try," you suggest, a smirk forming along your face. You pull away your sword and it glistens in the moonlight.
"Renji, don't be a fool," Byakuya speaks harshly with annoyance.
Byakuya knows that you're much older and stronger than Renji, you could easily wipe him out.
"I've heard the tales about you, y/n. How you were banished from the soul society," Renji speaks up and your stomach twists into uneasy knots.
You glare at him and step forward, your nostrils flaring.
"I'm gonna be the one. I'm gonna be the one to take you down," Renji growls out, a smirk forming along his face.
You laugh at his remark and throw back your head.
"I'm afraid you and your sword will never be up to the task, Renji. It's been a long, long time since I've felt something like this. Now, let's begin...Hadō number 63. Raikōhō."
Renji's eyes widen as you lift up your hand, your palm facing him as the yellow lightning strike forms in your hand.
"Renji!" Byakuya calls out with concern as you release the lightning rapidly and it strikes Renji in the chest. He grunts heavily as pain ripples through his body and it sends him onto his feet.
The portal starts to open up behind Byakuya and Rukia. You narrow your eyes and Renji pants heavily, scrambling up onto his feet.
"Silly little boy likes to play with swords," you comment, a wryly smirk tugging along your lips. Renji glares over at you and scoffs quietly.
"It seems like your past might be catching up to you, y/n," Byakuya speaks calmly, stepping into portal along with Renji and Renji. You let out a heavy breathe as the portal starts to close.
You turn around and kneel down beside Ichigo. The rain starts to pat down on your skin and you grimace.
"Ichigo..." you call out, placing your hand on his shoulder.
"Who are you?" he groans out, his voice muffled. The rain drops pelt down onto your face and you lift your head up.
A gasp is caught in your throat as your eyes land on him. His kimono swaying back and forth in the strong wind. A green and white stripped bucket hat over his head, his silky blonde locks poking out.
Your heart pounds in your eardrums and your body freezes.
It can't be...Kisuke Urahara.
It's been literally months since I posted chapter 1, lol. Anyways, y/n is pretty badass in this :)
#Kisuke urahara#kisuke urhara#bleachanime#bleach x reader#bleach anime#bleach x you#bleach x y/n#bleach headcanons#bleach x female reader#bleach imagines#kisuke bleach#urahara#urahara kisuke#kisuke x reader#bleachichigo#bleach#urahara x reader#urahara kisuke x reader#urahara x yoruichi#bleach urahara#kisuke#urahara smut#kisuke urahara smut#kisuke urahara x reader#bleach kisuke#urahara kisuke smut#bleach fanfic#bleach fandom#bleach fanfiction#Kisuke Urahara fanfiction
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Clone Matchmaking AU Masterlist
The post that started it all
One standard year has passed since Chancellor Palpatine's sudden death in a freak accident involving Representative Jar Jar Binks, a crate of Mandalorian Reaper peppers, and one extremely overworked Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard.
Six standard months have passed since the Galactic Senate overwhelmingly approved the Clone Rights and Personhood Act, co-sponsored by Senators Amidala and Chuchi and endorsed by Chancellor Organa himself.
The Clone Wars have ended, and with their legal status secured, the clone troopers look to the future, to the things they never thought they would be able to have. Homes. Families. Love.
But without the support systems and social structures available to natborns, many troopers have difficulty finding meaningful connections.
Enter Right to Love Matchmaking Service: a not-for-profit organization dedicated to helping clone troopers find the loves of their lives.
Find your match today!
Submit a fic | Submission Guidelines | AO3 Collection | FAQ
Masterlist will be updated as submissions are received. Be sure to check our official AO3 collection for fics that aren't cross-posted to Tumblr!
🍋 denotes mature content
501st Legion
ARC Trooper Fives
"An Awkward Kind of Charm," by @secondaryrealm AKA @deejadabbles
"Old Flames," by @banksys-rat
Captain Rex
"Date Night Pt 1," by @littlemissmanga
"Don't Go Breaking My Heart Part 1" by @sunshinesdaydream
"Don't Go Breaking My Heart Part 2," by @sunshinesdaydream
"Don't Go Breaking My Heart Part 3," by @sunshinesdaydream
"Don't Go Breaking My Heart Part 4," by @sunshinesdaydream
"Third Time's the Charm," by @starrylothcat
Clone Veteran Tai (from Kenobi series)
"For the Heart," by @imarvelatthestars
Clone Trooper Tup
"Seeking Something Simpler," by @arcsimper5
"My Beautiful Rose," by @cloneloverrrrr 🍋
Clone Trooper Hardcase
"The Power of Love," by @sunshinesdaydream
"The Power of Love Part 2," by @sunshinesdaydream
"Blood Moon Rising," by @sunshinesdaydream
"Of Frogs and Clones," by @the-bad-batch-baroness
Clone Trooper Dogma
"Date Night Pt 3," by @littlemissmanga
212th Attack Battalion
Marshal Commander Cody
"Date night Pt. 2," by @littlemissmanga 🍋
Lieutenant Waxer
"The Sixth Language (part 1)," by @dystopicjumpsuit
"The Sixth Language (part 2)," by @dystopicjumpsuit
"The Sixth Language (part 3)," by @dystopicjumpsuit 🍋
"The Sixth Language (part 4)," by @dystopicjumpsuit 🍋
"The Sixth Language (epilogue)," by @dystopicjumpsuit
The Wolfpack/104th Battalion
Commander Wolffe
"the two of us (against the world)," by @wolffegirlsunite
"As Sweet As Sugar," by @wings-and-beskar
"As Sweet As Sugar, Part 2," by @wings-and-beskar
"You're Mine, Mesh'la," by @cloneloverrrrr 🍋
41st Elite Corps
91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps
Marshal Commander Neyo
"The Blacklist," by @blueink-bluesoul
"Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo," by @dystopicjumpsuit 🍋
21st Nova Corps
327th Star Corps
The Bad Batch
Echo
"The Beauty In All, Part One," by @secondaryrealm AKA @deejadabbles
"The Beauty In All, Part Two," by @secondaryrealm AKA @deejadabbles
Crosshair
"Don't Say 'I Told You So,'" by @ghostofskywalker
"Take a Chance (Part 1)," by @multi-fan-dom-madness
"Take a Chance (Part 2)," by @multi-fan-dom-madness
Wrecker
"Happy Together," by @sunshinesdaydream
"Happy Together part 2," by @sunshinesdaydream
The Coruscant Guard
Commander Thorn
"The Long Way Home, Part 1," by @blueink-bluesoul
Marshal Commander Fox
"One Call Away - pt. 1," by @blueink-bluesoul
Republic Commandos
Other Clones
"I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends," by @sunshinesdaydream
Commander Mayday
"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 1," art by @nika6q; fic by @dystopicjumpsuit
"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 2," art by @nika6q; fic by @dystopicjumpsuit
"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 3," art by @nika6q; fic by @dystopicjumpsuit 🍋
"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 4," art by @nika6q; fic by @dystopicjumpsuit 🍋
Original Clone Characters
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This is the first time I’ve ever caught you open! Can you send fics of just neil being put through absolute hell. I only need it to be finished and to have a not totally sad ending. Im good with canon post canon and aus so really whatever. Thank you so much I find literally all my fics on your page <3
This kid just can’t catch a break, can he?
There’s plenty of fics we can offer you where Neil doesn’t have a great time (physically or emotionally), just see our list of recs from previous posts. You’ll find more under our raven!neil, dark and angst w/happy ending tags (not all fics in those tags are complete).
Please be aware of the trigger warnings though, due to their nature some of these fics deal with some heavy material.
Hope you’ll find what you’re looking for here! - S
A selection from previous posts:
‘Black As Is The Raven, He’ll Get A Partner’ and ‘Timeless’ here
‘hawk in the raven nest’ here
‘Take to the Wing’ here
‘Oh Raven’ here
‘Die Free or Die a Failure’ and ‘Night is the Raven, Day is the Fox’ (both completed) here
‘Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die)’ (completed) here
‘Not Damsels, Not Knights’ here
‘what it takes to survive’ (completed) here
‘Heartlines’ and ‘This Is What Hollows’ (completed) here
‘If Only I Were Enough’ (completed) and ‘don't break the glass’ (completed) here (part 1 of the glass series)
‘Double Trouble’ series here
‘Out of the Ashes’ series here (Part 1 and 2 completed)
‘Make A Believer Out Of Me’ here
‘what if the butcher hurt neil permanently in baltimore’ here
‘here and where you are’ here
‘Pause and Restart My Heart’ series here
‘The Bones of You’ here
‘and in a flash, it’s gone’ and ‘(don’t fear) the reaper’ here
‘Creatures We Find in the Forest’ here
‘There Now, Steady Love’ and ‘Except When It's No’ here
‘I Hope You Lie To Me’ here
‘The Story After You’ here
‘and you thought i hated you’ here
‘The Morning AUs, Chapter 14: The Bodyguard AU’ here
‘If all else perished, and he remained’ here
‘stifle my choice and the air in my lungs’ here
‘Purple Skies’ here
‘Monsters on the Top Floor’ here
‘The Reaper’ and ‘TALE OF A MARTYR IN XII PARTS’ (both completed) here
‘The Nameless Monster’ here
‘Through our memories, we live’ (completed) and ‘Hold Each Other, Chapter 24-31: Go or Go Ahead’ here
‘Hold Each Other: Chapter 5: The Gun Still Rattles’ here, ‘Chapter 7: Nothing Always Means Something’ here
‘Calling Me Back Once Again’ here
‘Amor Vincit Omnia’ (completed) here
‘Run to You’ here
‘Ghost of You’ here
You may also find something in these posts:
Neil with depression/mental health issues here
Neil attempts suicide here
Christmas at Evermore here
What Lies in Wait by starwarned [Rated M, 23419 words, complete, 2023]
Neil is being haunted — or else he’s losing his mind. All he can hear are the screams echoing in his head. But he and Andrew have made it this far, haven’t they? Can’t they survive a little more?
Based on What Lies Beneath.
tw: violence, tw: psychological torture, tw: kidnapping
Pull Up The Ladder When The Flood Comes by WinterFrost250 [Rated M, 3248 words, complete, 2023]
“Neil-” Kevin paused and looked around the room. As if only just realizing they were surrounded by people, he began speaking in vehement French.
“I’m sorry Neil I didn’t mean to look, I just-” Kevin glanced down at his phone, “It was just there when I opened it. I’m sorry.”
OR
Kevin gets sent pictures from an unknown number of Neils's time in Evermore and shit hits the fan.
tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: panic attacks
the boy in the basement by iriswords [Rated M, 3376 words, complete, 2023]
Part 21 of Febuwhump 2023
The Wesninskis are a well-known family in town. A macabre one, with only one survivor: Nathan Wesninski. Every day, Andrew likes to pass in front of the house on his way back home. He observes it distantly, taken over by morbid curiosity. It's how he notices the eyes watching him through the windows of the basement.
tw: violence, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: major character injury, tw: implied/referenced abuse
next best thing by iriswords [Rated M, 1546 words, complete, 2023]
Part 13 of Febuwhump 2023
Mary and Nathaniel are caught by one of Nathan's enemies while they're on the run. Said enemy doesn't have anything against the two of them, but he deeply desires revenge on Nathan. And in the absence of Nathan, he chooses the next best thing.
tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: major character injury
keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?) by phan_taloon [Rated M, 15415 words, complete, 2022, locked]
Except the cool steel felt too much like the cool cement of a dirty basement, it burned and numbed his back too much like-
He wasn’t fine.
But his meds could fix it.
He scrambled to his feet, stumbling down the hall to the bathroom and yanking the cabinet open and grabbing the pill bottle in a fist tight enough to hurt. He shook one of the pretty little pills into his palm and he swallowed it dry. But one wasn’t enough.
Or, AU where Neil never met the Foxes, with a little less mafia and a little more pain for Neil when he ends up captured by Nathan for months, and has to deal with the consequences by himself. He ends up in treatment for chronic pain with opioids, and let's just say opioid use is tricky when you're alone and in pain; one thing can lead to another more easily than it seems.
tw: drug addiction, tw: drug overdose, tw: withdrawal, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: vomit
no matter when and where, we'll be alright by jingerhead [Rated M, 11611 words, complete, 2022]
Of all the night’s events, there were only three things that Nathaniel really remembered clearly: the moments before the riots, being questioned by Lola in the car, and watching his father walk down the stairs to the basement. The last thing Nathaniel could remember was the way the light caught the blade of his father’s axe, blinding and terrifying as it was raised towards the ceiling. He couldn’t remember it coming down but it had to one way or another, right?
tw: amputation, tw: nightmares, tw: panic attacks
are we whole or just two halves/reaching out to the unknown? by Raphael_Stantiago [Not Rated, 18881 words, complete, Aftg Big Bang 2022]
An informant/defence attorney au, where Neil never left his father and was sucked into the family business, and gave them all up as soon as possible. However, when Neil meets his attorney Andrew, it gets a little more complicated. Cue them falling in love across various court cases, arrests and one on one meetings, all with the threat of witness protection hanging over their heads.
NB: fic art by @oliviaillustrations here
tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: dissociation
All Alone, I've Lost the Hope by phan_taloon [Rated T, 6873 words, complete, 2021, locked]
Even now, lying in the cold concrete floor of wherever he is, surrounded by armed men and women, drowsy from a concussion and drugs, and body pulsating in pain from several places, he still doesn’t believe in regret. Even at the face of the bastard in front of him, the cruel smile and the hungry glint of his eyes, he’d always choose to stay.
Even if the FBI may have been right to say the Witness Protection Program was the only logical path to choose with so many of his father’s men and allies still out there.
also available on tumblr here and here
tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: kidnapping, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: blood, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: depression
It never comes from your enemies by spectaclesandbooks [Rated T, 19408 words, complete, 2021]
"Name?"
"Andrew Minyard," he pushes out through gritted teeth.
“Well well well,” the man on the other end sounds amused, smug. Andrew waits for him to continue, his feet pounding against the pavement. “If you’re the one coming to meet me, I have to assume you’ve finally found a way to keep Josten on a leash?”
The clink of metal, rough breathing, unseeing blue eyes, panicked pleading.
When Andrew doesn’t answer, the Raven presses further.
“Either you’ve found a way to keep him subdued or you’re not coming alone like you were told. Which is it, Minyard? I told you what would happen if you didn’t do as you were asked.”
“Neil won’t be bothering us,” Andrew spits out, “he’s staying at home for this one.”
There’s movement on the other end of the phone, presumably the Raven preparing to leave and come meet him.
“Excellent,” he says easily. “That means you and I can conduct our business in peace and no-one gets hurt."
tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced self harm
That one party series by Thegaydepression [Rated T, 13872 words, 2 complete works, 2021]
Part 1: Orange (T (we say M), 9237 words)
"Orange is for someone who doesn’t suffocate.
But Neil does.
He suffocates and he feels it clawing at his throat and beating in his ears and pounding on his chest"
-----------------------
Neil thought he was fine, but then he goes to a stupid, loud, bright party.
Neil thought he was fine, but he isn't.
Not at all.
tw: rape/noncon, tw: violence, tw: panic attacks, tw: depression, tw: anxiety, tw: nightmares, tw: implied/referenced self harm
Part 2: Maybe Orange isn't Suffocating (Not Rated, 4635 words)
A second part to "Orange"
----------------------------------
Andrew is (not) coping
Aaron is a surprisingly good brother
Neil is not fine
tw: rape/noncon, tw: violence, tw: kidnapping, tw: dissociation, tw: panic attacks,
hold me close (don't let go) by cake_lovin_ace [Rated G, 4123 words, complete, 2021]
Part 2 of weight of a martyr
night by night memories of his childhood flooded his mind’s eye, all the things neil had tried his hardest to suppress. all the times he had been hurt; gotten the scars that littered his torso; been betrayed by the very people meant to protect him. it was like reliving everything all over again in vivid technicolor, and when he managed to claw his way out of the maze his mind trapped him in it was all he could do to remain upright and not crumpled on the floor; on the bed instead of hidden below it; dry-cheeked instead of sobbing hysterically.
or
neil struggles with memories of the past. andrew helps.
tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation
what comes after nightmares by moth_writes [Rated T, 10146 words, complete, Aftg Big Bang 2020]
Father won't accept anything less than the best.
Nathaniel shuts his eyes and wills himself to a dreamless sleep. Or at least one without knives and blood and pain.
He's not successful, but the next time he wakes it is to an alarm and the sun in his window.
It's the best he can hope for.
...
Neil falls asleep easily, and he knows he has someone with him to battle the darkness back where it belongs now.
Neil is thirty, and he is wrapped in his husband’s arms with two cats purring next to them.
He fights his own nightmares, and he has his family at his side to help.
He’s home.
(Neil's nightmares and what happens after, ages 5-30.)
NB: find art for this fic by @i-did here
tw: graphic descriptions of violence, tw: nightmares, tw: child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture
👑 ROYAL AU WRITING MASTERPOST 👑 by @emry-stars-art [tumblr, 2023]
(especially the posts concerning Neil’s (Abram’s) treatment at Evermore)
e.g. Abram’s return from Evermore, Pieces of his recovery, Andrew taking over Abram’s care
👑 ROYAL AU TUMBLR LORE MASTERPOST 👑 by @emry-stars-art [tumblr, 2023] (comprises both text and art posts)
e.g. Abram's brands pt1 / pt2
tw: violence, tw: injuries, tw: scars, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation
“Perhaps you’ll take me out one day — or do I have to make an appointment?” prompt fill by @ravenvsfox [tumblr, 2017]
His morning is a string of disasters that begins with covering the ER in the Sunday rush of hypochondriac elderly and fussy children. It’s one long stretch of kicked over paint buckets, a mess you can’t ignore, splattering the walls and getting on his shoes.
Art
andreil post-baltimore by @intradaya
It’s over. You’re going to be okay. We’ve got you. by @rainbowd00dles
"All that time fighting and you never learned how to duck?" by @rainbowd00dles
Sunrise, Abram, death: these are truths. by @boydsjosten
Neil Josten art by @runningwithhellhounds
Neil & Wymack after Evermore comic by @rijirain
Neil in the Wymack’s bathroom after winter holidays art by @eggpy
“Help me,” “Let me” by @rainbowd00dles
And if you make it out alive, hold that bloody head up high art by @pearsfears
I’m fine art by @laurafromnowhere
Nathaniel/Neil gif by @queen-of-perplexity
hurt Neil by @rhyva
#fic#neil josten/andrew minyard#neil josten & the foxes#betsy dobson & neil josten#mary hatford & neil josten#aaron minyard & neil josten#kevin day & neil josten#universe: pre canon#universe: canon divergent#universe: post canon#au: different first meeting#au: other sports#au: law#au: witsec#au: royalty#theme: angst with a happy ending#theme: hurt/comfort#theme: emotional hurt/comfort#theme: protectiveness#theme: injuries#aftg big bang#aftg reverse big bang#tw: violence#tw: rape/noncon#tw: suicidal thoughts#tw: abuse#tw: torture#tw: dissociation#tw: panic attacks#tw: kidnapping
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ALWAYS FEELIN' A BIT INSANE ABOUT SONGBIRD!! 💥💥💥💥
Currently very invested in the Scar character development, he's very silly and I am obsessed with how you write him. Eating ur writing, I literally never shut up about it heryehur
He has so much depth to his personality. His struggle with identity, hiding the truth, opening up to others, traumatic experiences, etc. His complicated relationship with Mumbo as they walk on their tip-toes wondering what happened to get them to this point... His love for Tubbo and his hate for humanity. His conflicting emotions about death. His ever-changing view of Grian and what made him so worth it when nobody else caught his eye. The fragile concept of simply being himself and not the monster people think he is. He's so WONDERFUL AAAA!! *shakes you*
EEEEEEEEE YAY :D
scar has easily become one of my favorite songbird characters. he's definitely rounded out a lot since the start of songbird and I'm so !!!!!! about him -- and now that arc 2 is finished, I can actually talk about scar's character arc because GOD DOES IT MAKE ME INSANE. OKAY.
I remember being kinda nervous about introducing scar way back when in welcome to the circus, because I wasn't sure how he'd be received -- I mean, he's basically introduced as an antagonist right away, and he feels so different from his typical characterization. well. he's not that different, but I certainly lean wayyy more into the intimidating, scary image. and when you don't know a character's motivations for that... depending on the writer executes the writing, you could either be Incredibly interested, or you could write it off as out of character/bad writing. so welcome to the circus was absolutely a HUGE gamble. hell, everything that followed was a big gamble!
but I am so happy with how scar's development went. I think I could've added maybe one or two more one shots right before enchante to add a bit more pacing of scar's development, but overall I really am pleased with it.
arc 2 was heavily focused on scar and his betrayal (which like,,, yeah, obviously @ myself GJFHJFG) my biggest goal when writing arc 2 was showing the readers that there was more to scar than just his cold personality. that there was a reason for his behavior. it's kinda similar to how mumbo was first introduced. mumbo was off as well, though granted his true personality came about a lot quicker than scar's did.
so this arc was about exploring scar's character (and his understanding of/warming up to grian) and his growing internal conflict between betraying grian and mumbo and keeping tubbo safe. I really wanted to get across that at first scar had no remorse for what he was doing. but when he started getting to know grian, being given his kindness, when scar started to let down the walls around his heart, that's when the guilt kicked in.
I love scar's whole battle with his identity -- it's one of my favorite pieces of his character, and something that'll be explored a TON more in arc 3 (and perhaps the reason why that battle is there to begin with 👀) the way I've always looked at is: scar isn't human, but he's not quite fae either. so he's had to carve out an identity for himself; the grim reaper, a monster, it's all the same to him. he's not just standing at the cross between two worlds. he's carving a path between these two worlds -- he's creating a third world, specifically for himself
and I think scar's struggle with his identity is something the fandom as a whole doesn't touch on nearly enough as we should. scar is a man who's constantly wearing a mask, and that mask is everchanging. there's some seriously fun concepts to be played with there! which is exactly what I want to explore in songbird and this upcoming arc.
I also feel really insane about all of the backstory crumbs I've left in arc 2 for him. this one in particular drives me crazy:
( it's from the weight of living chapter three in case anyone is wondering :3 )
if you've ever seen in anime where a character has like. some ominous shadow figure looming over them and they look really afraid or panicked, that's exactly the kind of image I was picturing when writing this scene. and that's kinda what happens here! (one day when mumbo and scar's backstories are revealed, I would love to like. comb through songbird for all of the crumbs I've dropped and explain them)
but scar's character is so complex, and I think that's what makes him so fun. he doesn't operate on human morals, but he very much does have human emotions and a human heart that he buries and AUGH!!!
and I can't talk about scar's character without mentioning enchante, because C'MON. IT'S LIKE. THE SONGBIRD SCARIAN FIC HFGJDFGHJ
enchante is SUCH an interesting turning point for scar and grian's dynamic. mumbo and the boys have been kidnapped, scarian are forced to work together and they don't entirely trust one another, and they're running on limited time. and it's through this situation that they're forced to learn about each other. scar learns just how far grian's kindness goes, how he views the world. and grian starts to get some insight into why scar behaves the way that he does.
we see scar step in to defend grian against taurtis the first time under the guise of being offended at taurtis' bad negotiation skills, and not even knowing himself why he steps in! it's the first time scar sees the depth of grian's humanity and his guilt and his care for the ones that he loves. and then in turn, grian learns why scar is so apathetic and uncaring and there's some sort of understanding the two of them reach. it drives me SO insane fae. I cannot express.
AND THE GRIM REAPER STUFF MMMMMMMMM WE'RE GONNA COME BACK TO THAT. IT'S GONNA BE GLORIOUS. I've got some scar story that are gonna make people go INSANE when I drop it. it makes me want to gnaw on my arm man
songbird!scar is just so delightful to me, and I really love writing him a lot. his relationship to mumbo and then to grian is SO fun to examine, and we'll definitely be doing more of that in arc 3. I'm really glad that people love him as much as I do because <3333
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Happy Reapers (Guidesman, C2)
Chapter Three: The Goodman and the Great Pumpkin
C2 on Tumblr: First - Previous - Next
(C1, The Lost Boys)
For @why-bless-your-heart :)
~~*~~
Now, it wasn’t that Wirt exactly liked the town. In fact, its utterly empty and silent streets—almost as if its inhabitants had been “raptured away,” as Greg's friend Mrs. Daniels liked to say—seemed a little eerie. It made him uneasy. What’s more, it made him… uncertain. He wasn’t supposed to be there, if only because it was a place meant for other people than him.
So it wasn’t that he liked the town. It was just that he disliked the idea of being led around by a talking bird (whether she claimed to be magic or not) more.
Thus, when Beatrice made the snide comment—
“Hey, not to be obnoxious, but an abandoned ghost town doesn’t seem like it’s gonna be that helpful in getting you guys home!”
—Wirt scowled, despite having had similarly nagging doubts (for a moment or two, anyway). And when the Woodsman replied simply with the words—
“It is not abandoned.”
—Wirt nodded decisively and folded his arms, as if he himself had been proved right in something or other. “There! See, Beatrice?”
“No, I don’t see. There’s nobody here!”
“What? But there’s lots of people here!” interjected Greg. “There’s you, and Wirt, and me, and Alford, and Mister Woodsman!”
“Sh-she means other people, Greg.” He took a couple steps, then stopped. “And isn’t that supposed to be Alfred?”
“It sounds better my way. Do you guys hear that?”
The last out-of-nowhere comment took Wirt a second to process. But when he did, he began to listen. The others followed, falling silent. And in their silence, they found another sound: song. Faint, distant, but most certainly real music. The sound of it drifted through the streets, like the timeless voices of spirits. Suddenly, the idea of a ghost town didn’t seem so unlikely.
“What… what is it?” Wirt asked, hardly expecting an answer.
“That, children,” declared the Woodsman, lifting his head, “is the people of Pottsfield. Come along, now. You must meet them.”
He gestured them on, then began plodding up the road, making for (as far as Wirt could tell) a tall wooden barn in the midst of the houses. His steps didn’t seem as heavy as usual.
“Well, Beatrice,” Wirt sighed, giving Beatrice what he believed to be a subtly smug look, “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to rejoin civilization.”
“And so is Alford!” declared Greg, lifting the frog above his head. It ribbited.
Beatrice only frowned. At least, it looked like a frown. Could birds even do that? Then again, if they could talk, why not beak contortions?
The boys (and bird) followed their guide to the barn, from which the music came. The sounds of voices and fiddles and instruments even Wirt didn’t recognize wafted like a homely scent through the door, slightly ajar.
The Woodsman lifted his hand to push it open. He paused. Then turned.
“Let me speak to them. The Pottsfielders are kindly folk, but they are wary of trespassers.”
“Oh, ‘wary of trespassers,’ great!” muttered Beatrice, flapping over their heads.
“Yes, as in this land they should,” the Woodsman replied, frowning at the bird’s suspicions. “But I will explain your troubles, and I have no doubt that they will do all within their power to help.” He fixed his eye on Wirt. “Only trust me a little. It will be well.”
The look only confused Wirt, and the words only put him off. ‘Trust’? He was already following the guy. Why would he need to trust him? But he shrugged anyway. “Uhh… okay?”
Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
“Yes sir, Mister Woodsman!” And Greg saluted with his frog’s leg.
With a seemingly-satisfied nod, the Woodsman turned again and gently pushed open the door. With daylight at their backs, they stepped inside. And the sight that lay before them made Wirt’s eyes go wide.
The barn was filled with people. Shucking corn, peeling apples, playing instruments. Dancing, both together round a huge maypole and in their own smaller circles. But the mere presence of people wasn’t what was startling. No, indeed.
What was startling was the fact that every single person in that barn had a pumpkin for a head, and bodies and limbs made of straw, or of other vegetables.
“What the…?”
“Don’t be alarmed,” the Woodsman cut off, with a handwave toward Wirt. “It’s only the way they dress for their harvest festival. I had to learn that myself, many years ago.”
Wirt blinked. “Wait, you mean it’s just costumes?”
“Good thing I didn’t take this off then!” And Greg stuck out his pumpkined foot.
Before Wirt could breath a sigh of relief at this bit of information, however, something happened. One of the pumpkin people—seemingly a girl, with a hat over her straw braids—lifted her hollow eyes. She looked at him. She looked at Greg. Then she looked at their guide. And the corn in her straw hands dropped.
“It’s the Goodman!”
The music stilled. A rustle went through the crowd, and each orange head turned toward them. Wirt almost had the chance to feel extremely unnerved by the collective gaze. But the stare did not last. Almost immediately, every one of them cheered.
“The Goodman!”
“The Goodman’s back!”
“Hurrah!”
The music struck up again, even more joyfully. All those without instruments left their revelry at once. Then, the crowd of Pottsfielders bustled around the Woodsman, greeting him with excitement.
“Welcome back to Pottsfield, Goodman!”
“Goodman, glad to see you!”
“Who are your friends, Goodman?”
The Woodsman took a step or two further in, towering up over all of them. He returned their greetings, though his words were lost in the noise. And though he wasn’t quite smiling even then, there was a light in his eyes that could not be missed.
“Whoa,” cooed Greg with wide eyes. “Now he’s the Woodsman Guidesman Goodman!”
“Okay, what? HOW.” Beatrice, now seated on Greg’s teapot, flapped out her wings fiercely, gesturing toward the strange scene. “How does a crusty old man who rails about beasts and scares people get to win over a whole town?”
“Yeah!” Wirt breathed out incredulously, throwing up his own hands in agreement. He stared after the Woodsman, slightly astounded. Heck, if he was this popular around here, they’d get directions in no time!
But then his eyes dropped from the man to the throng. And that was when his newfound positivity failed. What were they supposed to do now? More specifically, what was he supposed to do? That would’ve been too many normal people to wade through (for him at least), much less weird, old-timey pumpkin people.
“I thought we were just meeting one guy here,” he muttered, frowning uncomfortably.
However, before he could fret too much, he saw the Woodsman look over his shoulder. The man paused. Then, he excused himself back through the crowds. As soon as he reached them, he settled a hand on Wirt’s shoulder.
“With me, lads,” he nodded sturdily. Then, with his other hand on Greg’s back, he urged them onward without another word. Thus, the two… or three… or four of them (with the frog) followed their guide through the heart of Pottsfield-town.
Greg seemed utterly unperturbed by the strange townsfolk. “Woodsman Guidesman Goodman, Woodsman Guidesman Goodman,” he murmured at Wirt’s side, over and over with each stumpy step.
Wirt rolled his eyes and turned his gaze away. Almost immediately, he recoiled. One jack-o-lantern grin had come a little too close, and a muffled voice a little too near his ear. It sounded almost hollow—
Okay, no. They were people, he had to remind himself, taking a breath. Just some nice… kinda weird people. And, what’s more, he didn’t have to deal with them. That’s what the Woodsman was doing. All he had to do was stick close behind him.
Wirt eyed the surrounding masses.
Very close behind him.
“So,” he asked, trying to keep within the man’s shadow, “so you’re getting directions to get us home, right? Somebody here is that friend of yours who knows the way?”
“Goodsman Widesman Hoodsman, Couldsman Tidesman Shouldsman!”
“Greg!”
“Yes, boy, he’s here,” muttered the Woodsman, hardly audible over the chatter. Then, louder, as he came to a stop about twenty feet from the foot of the maypole, “Good folk of Pottsfield! People!”
The hubbub quieted to a murmur.
“I thank you for this hospitable welcome, but—”
“Of course!” said one voice.
“The harvest wouldn’t be the same without you, Goodman!” chimed another.
A hovering pause that confused Wirt. Was he surprised? Or was he just annoyed?
“You are kindly folk,” he said, a little quieter. And the tone seemed to rule out Wirt’s second option. It didn’t linger long, though. “But now that I’ve come, I have a matter of importance to speak of, and I must see—”
“Well!”
The voice boomed in Wirt’s chest, as close as his own heartbeat. Greg’s self-echoing chatter fell silent. Even the murmur hushed.
“—Enoch,” finished their guide.
Wirt’s eyes drew upward, toward the source of the booming word. And his breath snagged in his throat.
The speaker seemed to be none other than the maypole itself, an enormous pumpkin head at its top. It appeared to be made of cloth. Its face was sewn, with huge eyes and toothy grin. But it lowered itself toward them of its own volition, and the greenish ribbons attached to it moved like arms. Or tentacles.
“Look, Wirt!” squeaked an inexplicably excited voice. “Linus was right all along! It’s the Great Pumpkin!”
“Greg!” he rebuked, though the word hardly hissed out. But as he stared at that gigantic jack-o-lantern, he could not bring himself to think Greg was wrong.
Quickly, he shrank back behind the Woodsman. But to his alarm, the Woodsman did not stand still. Instead, he took off his hat, and he stepped forward. The Pottsfielders wordlessly cleared from his path.
“I… I’m done.” Wirt hardly had time to process the sentence before the flapping of wings signalled desertion. Beatrice had flown.
A part of him begged to follow her. Another, which was stronger, did not want by any means to leave the Woodsman’s shadow. But the strongest still dared not come a step closer to… to that. So he hung back, lingering beside Greg and his frog, biting his lip as he watched the Goodman and the Great Pumpkin meet.
“So,” chuckled Enoch, a sort of delight in his deep, drawling voice, “the Goodman has returned to Pottsfield.”
“Yes, great one,” was the Woodsman’s simple reply. He sounded solemn to Wirt, far more solemn even than usual. And yet, somehow, not gloomy.
“Hmm-hmm, that’s fine! Now our little tradition, kept all these many years, can continue. Now that you’ve gathered in your harvest for the winter, you’ve come to help us reap our own.” The great head seemed to nod, ever grinning. “That’s very fine.”
Wirt saw a few more nods spread throughout the crowd. Questions began to form his thoughts as quickly as they were answered. This was how the Woodsman knew them, but how long had he been coming here? And what was the harvest he meant? There hadn’t been any garden near the mill, not that he’d seen.
“Only,” said the worn voice, scattering his speculations, “I have not gathered in.”
“Oh?”
The Woodsman took a breath. “Not yet.” As the people began to murmur again, he held out his hand behind him, towards Wirt and Greg. “I found these children before I could complete it.”
Wirt did not move. Greg started to, but Wirt held him back with one hand. Then, the Woodsman shot them a look over his shoulder. It wasn’t an angry one. But it was a command: they must come forth now.
Greg, of course, pottered up with his pumpkin foot and a perky smile as soon as he got the signal. “Hi, Mister Great Pumpkin! I’m Greg, and this is my frog, Charlie Brown!” He pointed back. “That’s my big brother, Wirt.”
Hesitantly, and with a tremble he tried to hide, Wirt tiptoed to join the others. “H-hi,” he stammered, lifting a hand in nervous greeting.
“Beatrice was here, too, but she got scared. She’s not a magic bluebird.”
“Well,” chuckled the Great Pumpkin, “welcome to Pottsfield, children.” He leaned down with a creak. “You must be very special that the Goodman has put off his harvest for you.”
“Oh… really?” was all Wirt’s dry mouth could come up with. The head was as big as Wirt himself, and terribly close.
But it wasn’t the size of the being before him that set dread in his bones. It wasn’t pressure, though if he had come alone with Greg, as uninvited outsiders, it might have been. It wasn’t even danger, not with the friendliness of manner. Not with the Woodsman standing between them.
No, this was something greater. Something the poet in him could only grasp and desperately define as presence. Not even that of a ghost; it would have been so much easier if it had been merely ghostly. He could have fled from a ghost.
In the face of this, he could only stand and try not to drop to his knees.
“They are lost, Enoch,” said the Woodsman’s voice, not sounding half so imposing now by comparison (and yet—he couldn’t figure out how—not the slightest bit weaker). “They are wandering as strangers here. The Unknown is not their home, and they must go back where they belong. I have promised to help them do so.”
“Hm.” A deep, slow nod. “Now, ain’t that a neighbourly deed?” A deep, slow breath. “But tell me somethin’, Goodman.”
The Woodsman lifted his head, but said nothing.
“If this is not their home, and they’re not ready to join us here, then why’ve you brought ‘em to me?”
Though Wirt did not look away, his eyelids flickered doubtfully over many possible meanings, good and bad, of ‘not ready to join us.’
But his guide seemed to have no doubts. He took another step forward, eyes fixed immovably. “Enoch, you are wise. If there is a way for them to leave these lands and return to their home, I ask you to tell us, or to show us.”
At these words, Enoch chuckled. And Wirt couldn’t quite place the emotion in it. It seemed amused and bemused at once. It seemed both surprised and perfectly knowing. It could almost have been pity. But it was too light for that, and too thoughtful.
“Well, now.” And he drew himself up straight, though the smile (a genuine one) never left his voice. “Goodman, there’s a lotta things I’m not. It wouldn’t be for me to say that wise is one. But wishin’ wells, spell-makers, guides, well… such things ain’t in my dominion.”
“But do you know where they might be found?”
“Those particularly? No.” His voice grew light and lazy, as if such matters were hardly to be troubled with. “But there are ways to leave the Unknown, I’m sure. Not all who have walked these lands’ll join us here.”
“Then—”
The Woodsman stopped.
After a moment, uncertainly, Wirt tapped his elbow. “Well, go on,” he whispered, hating how loud the sound of it seemed. “Ask him what ways.”
He said nothing.
Wirt peered round his shoulder to see his expression (whilst trying and failing to ignore the Other Face). His eyes were narrowed, but in thought rather than suspicion. Then, as Wirt watched, his mouth opened again.
“What if we stayed the day?”
“What?” The word slipped out sharply before Wirt could stop it.
The head tilted slightly. “Hm?”
“I have already pledged in the past to help you bring in your harvest,” the Woodsman went on, ignoring Wirt. “If I stayed, and the children with me, would you consider the matter until the evening? Then you might give us answer.”
Wirt stared at him agape, snapping out of his fear, if fear it was. What was he doing? Did he forget that they had to get home as soon as possible? And now he was signing them up to work here for the rest of the day!
“Well.” The painted or stitched eyes lifted to the ceiling. “That is a kind offer. Particularly because you have not finished your own harvest.” He looked down on them again. “But I would not consider it payment for answers.”
Wirt’s teeth clenched in desperation.
But Enoch was not finished. “Goodman, I will see what answer I can give by the even.” His ribbons spread out like open hands. “And if y’all wish to help us, you’re welcome to it. But I place no obligation.”
“Re-really?” Wirt clapped his hand over his own mouth, trying too late to suppress the squeaked word.
Another chuckle. “You don’t have to worry, children. I only demand that you do no harm, to our people or to our town, so long as you remain here.” His voice deepened, very slightly, but there was warning in it. “I do not take lightly the care of Pottsfield.”
Wirt shrank from the presence, which seemed nearer, watching, studying his soul. But with a step, the Woodsman drew nearer still. “I will take responsibility for them,” came his answer. “They will do no harm.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think they will.” The lightness, laughingly sincere, returned, and Enoch drew back. “Not these.” He folded his ribbon-hands. “Not with you around.”
The Woodsman—the Goodman—nodded respectfully. “Thank you, great one.”
#over the garden wall#guidesman au#chapter 2: happy reapers#salt and light#otgw woodsman#otgw wirt#otgw greg#otgw beatrice#otgw enoch#pottsfield#hard times at the huskin bee#i love this chapter#writing#my fanfiction#my writing
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Tarot of Destiny / Chapter 14 - Happier Than Anyone Else
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Warning: also definitely spoilers
Hanamaru: “Aight, then. Finally, just the 2 of us, huh…
Let's get along as fellow grim reapers, my lord.”
> “Yours is reversed though…”
Hanamaru: “Yeah. As said before, my ‘Death’ card is in the ‘reversed position'... It seems to mean things like… ‘retry’ or ‘restart’.
Well, leaving aside whether this tarot fortune-telling is accurate or not, if it's to save you, my lord... I'll do whatever it takes.
Hmm…
look back at myself through this card and convey the feelings that arise from it to the lord, huh…
'Retry'... 'restart'....
Hmmm…
Well, some parts of it might really apply to me.”
> “Apply to you?”
Hanamaru: “Ah, it might get a tiny bit serious, but... I had a rough life, much worse than now.”
Then Hanamaru calmly talked about his past.
He lived as a bounty hunter in the eastern lands, angered a corrupt authority figure, and his hometown was burned.
It was the first time he talked about what happened before he came to the church orphanage.
> “That sounds tough…”
Hanamaru: “Well, you know how it went afterward, my lord.
I've always... wanted revenge against the angels. The ones who killed those kids five years ago... I wanted to avenge them so badly.
Of course, I didn't let on how messed up I felt about it to the kids who survived.
I was seriously regretting it, like it was eating me up inside…
I was so angry, I felt like dying.
But now, meeting you, becoming a devil butler and all, I've finally got the power to take on those angels.
It's something to be happy about, but sometimes I think... if you weren't in this world, my lord... I might have died trying to avenge them without releasing the devil's power.
I couldn't exact revenge without it.
So when I think about it... I'm glad you're here. Thanks to you, I can continue avenging the kids without being killed by angels.
Wait…
Saying it like this makes it sound like you're just a tool for revenge. My bad.
I didn't mean to hurt you… but frankly, before meeting you... I only thought about using you for revenge. Because back then... I had no idea what kinda person you were.
Remember?
When we first wore tailcoats and went to show ourselves to you...
You were like... ‘I want you guys to be happy.’
You know…
I'm pretty good at identifying scammers. So when I heard that, I became convinced and was like, ‘Ah, this person is really good.’
Of course, being adored by the butlers helps, huh? Yo! Look at this charmer right here!
So, just like everyone else, I fell for you, my lord. I want to stay by your side forever...
I thought my life would be just about hunting angels, a grim existence... But It turned out to be a pretty enjoyable life.
Thanks, my lord.
And, let's continue to get along from now on. I hope we can be together for a long time.
So... Don't worry about the tarot's result. You could even turn it into tissue paper and throw it away.”
> “Y-you're right…”
> “Can I, really…?”
Hanamaru: “Oops. That wasn't very butler-like.
Oh well. I guess I really am unrefined.”
~ A little while later ~
Having received the feelings of all 17 butlers, I decided to think again about what Ms. Elvira had said about ’the way to be saved from an ominous fate.’
Teddy: “So, my lord... Have you come up with anything?”
Yuhan: “Lady Elvira mentioned, ’You have experienced the answer firsthand.' Is it possible that the answer lies in our shared experiences?”
> “I'm not quite sure yet…”
Hanamaru: “Well, let's take it easy. It's just a talk about fortune-telling anyway. Some fortune tellers even intentionally sell ‘comfort goods’ together with ‘anxiety-inducing predictions.’
It might be a loss to take it too seriously.”
Teddy: “But, both Mr. Berrien and Mr. Haures said that Lady Elvira's fortune-telling is accurate... I want to be optimistic, but I can't help worrying.”
Hanamaru: “Oh, right. How about this, then?
If the upright Death card is making you uneasy...
Then, my lord, you can do a ‘handstand'.”
> “Handstand...?”
Hanamaru: “Yeah. If you do that, you'll become the Death card reversed, just like me. If we're both in the reversed position, you should feel reassured, right?”
Yuhan: “Mr. Hanamaru…
Please think more seriously about this.”
Hanamaru: “Haha, sorry, sorry. But don't you want to see the lord doing a handstand too?”
Yuhan: “Sigh... I definitely can't let my lord do a handstand, but for my lord's sake... Perhaps we should try anything.
Well then, Mr. Hanamaru, please try doing a handstand.”
Hanamaru: “......Huh? Me?”
Yuhan: “Yes. If Mr. Hanamaru does a handstand, the tarot will change from the reversed position to an upright position, right...
That is to say, if there's a change in Mr. Hanamaru's fate, it means that handstands have an effect.”
Hanamaru: “......Yuhan, you……
...You want to use me as a guinea pig?”
Yuhan: “Oh? Who was it that wanted to experiment with my lord?”
Hanamaru: “......Hey~ Teddy. Help me out here~.”
Teddy: “Huh? Oh, okay...
Then...
I'll grab your legs as you do a handstand to help you, Mr. Hanamaru.
Alright, go ahead!”
Hanamaru: “Hey! That's not what I meant…”
I couldn't help but smile at the playful exchange between the three. It lightened my uneasiness about the ominous fate, and I started feeling a bit relieved.
Hanamaru: “Ohh. Seems like my lord is feeling a bit better now.”
Teddy: “That's right! Even if we don't find the answer now, there's no need to hurry!”
Yuhan: “Yes. We will protect my lord no matter what happens. You are an irreplaceable presence to us…”
Hanamaru: “Yeah.
And of course not just because ‘you can release the power of devil butlers.’ You've brought us many other, more precious things.”
Teddy: “For us, my lord is more precious than life itself!
Please don't forget that. From now on, we will protect you and live by your side, my lord.
So... There's nothing to worry about.”
> “Thank you, guys”
All the butlers were trying to make me feel less anxious, promising to protect me no matter what. Their powerful words… little by little, made me feel at ease.
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New chapter of my grim reaper! Ghostsoap fic is up ~ featuring the sort of angst I never usually write, but also some nice sweet moments between the two 😘 happy holidays babes
Snippet:
He tries to forget it, at first, or at the very least accept what he had been told and think no more of it. Okay, not a ghost. Fine. That doesn’t make him horribly, terribly curious, not at all. And that whole thing about not knowing his own fucking name, or not having one, that’s what he said, right? God, it makes John’s brain race in the gray spaces, those inbetweens when he has time to think about anything other than the plans for the next mission or whatever warm thing is down his sites. Helmet pressed against the window of the helo, thinking about his ghost. The moments before sleep, sprawled out on top of his sheets at the end of a mission, turning over the details that may offer some hint to his identity. In the shower, lathering over newly blooming bruises, his ghost’s eyes burning in his brain.
Like he said, the name fits. He certainly feels haunted.
#cod mwii#soapghost#ghostsoap#cod mw2#ghoap#simon ghost riley#tf141#john soap mactavish#codmw2#mywriting#cod mw3#grim reaper au
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Victor
Story Event: Luxury liner invitation
Chapter 2
Chapter 1
~~Part 1~~
Viscount Morris: ".....What?"
Victor: "What's going on, Morris? Did something happen?"
Viscount Morris: ".... let's keep this between us."
Viscount Morris: "It looks like -- there is a murderer aboard this ship that the police are after."
(What!?)
The police had been chasing a murderer known as `the mole` for a long time.
During their investigation, the trail went cold but they received a tip he might have boarded this ship.
Victor: "I see. We have to catch this man before he does something bad."
Viscount Morris: "But....I have no clue where to begin."
Kate: "That's..."
Viscount Morris: "Neither culprit's name nor his face are known. The only established fact is that it's a man."
Viscount Morris: "He's said to be a collector who's extremely obsessed with jewels."
Victor: "So, in other words, he's a man who's committed numerous murders to get his hands on them."
Viscount Morris: "Argh... why is he on my ship? What if something happens to the passengers?"
Victor: "-- Viscount, will you let me solve this case?"
Viscount Morris: "I know you are capable as the Queen's aide. But you are also an esteemed guest --"
Victor: "This ship has sailed from England and will return there as well. I want to nip the evil in the bud before we reach our destination."
Viscount Morris: "... thank you, Victor. Just try not to overdo it, okay?"
~~Part 2~~
Victor waved his hand at the Viscount as he was walking away with a worried look on his face.
Victor: "Evil seems to love us a little too much, don't you think Kate?"
Kate: "Heh, it really does."
Victor: "Still, I brought you here because I wanted you to spread your wings."
Victor: "That's why, I'll make sure that man --"
Kate: "Hey, Victor, may I join you on the case?"
Victor: "...."
(Victor is the exeptional aide to the Queen called the Grim Reaper)
(I'm sure he'll be able to solve the case brilliantly without me, but...)
Kate: "There has to be something I could help you with."
Kate: "Besides, I am a fairytale writer. If something happens, I have to be there to witness it."
Victor: "...."
Victor: "I understand where you're coming from."
Victor: "I must find and condemn the evil that has come aboard. May I ask you to assist me in this task as a fairytale writer?"
Kate: "Yes, of course!"
(... I'm so happy when he relies on me)
Kate: "But how will we identify this man whose face and name are unknown?"
Victor: "I have an idea. Will you hear me out?"
~~Part 3~~
Viscount Morris: "Attention, everyone! We will now begin the dance contest to celebrate the maiden voyage of the Orellus."
Viscount Morris: "There are ten pairs who entered the competition. The pair that impresses the audience the most will receive a special reward from me!"
Viscount Morris: "Here's the first pair! Victor and Lady Kate."
Victor: "Hello, thank you."
Kate: "I look forward to the competition."
(Ugh... people's stares are painful!)
*flashback starts*
Victor: "I have an idea. Will you hear me out?"
Victor: "There are two possible reasons why he boarded this luxury liner. First, he wanted to escape from the police."
Victor: "Secondly, he's planning to steal the jewels if the opportunity arises."
(... There are many aristocrats who board the luxury passenger ships)
Victor: "That's right, Kate. The blue diamond shining on your chest is the key."
Kate: "Do you want the necklace to be the bait...?"
Victor: "Just so. Of course, I'll guarantee your safety. How's that sound?"
Kate: "I'm not worried. I believe in you, Victor."
Kate: "But we need to somehow draw attention to this diamond, don't we?"
Victor: "Then leave it to me. I'm good at standing out."
*flashback ends*
(-- That's why he asked the Viscount to hold a dance contest)
(I can't believe so many people are here..!)
Most of the passengers gathered on deck and gave us cheerful looks.
Victor: "Kate, look at me."
~~Part 4~~
(-- That's why he asked the Viscount to hold a dance contest)
(I can't believe so many people are here..!)
Most of the passengers gathered on deck and gave us cheerful looks.
Victor: "Kate, look at me."
Kate: "...?"
When I looked up, I saw Victor smiling happily as usual.
Victor: "If next to you is someone invincible, what should you do?"
(What should I do)
(What Victor always tells me to do)
Kate: "To enjoy this occasion to the fullest?"
Victor: "A great answer. As expected of the fairytale expert of the Crown."
He smiled, and the musicians began to play a cheerful dance tune.
Victor: "Kate, take my hand."
Kate: "Right!"
Young female aristocrat: "Oh, look at those two. Hehe, they appear to be having a great time!"
Young male aristocrat: "Indeed. It makes me want to dance too."
We were thus chosen as the best couple, partly due to the Viscount's discretion.
As planned, when Victor was interviewed,
He naturally spun the story that the blue diamond shining on my chest was a `one-of-a-kind illusory necklacklace`,
Still, he wanted everyone gathered to know.
(I hope the culprit will be lured by this)
~~~
-- and then night fell on board of the ship.
I was standing alone in an empty and silent corridor.
-- To be a decoy, of course.
(The killer would most likely target me when I was alone)
(But will it really go according to plan .........?)
~~Part 5~~
No doubt Victor was prepared for any eventuality.
(I have to trust him. I'm sure it'll be all right)
???: "Lady, what are you doing here all by yourself?"
Kate: "...!"
Startled by the voice coming from behind me, I turned around and saw --
(this guy......)
*flashback starts*
Red-haired crewman: "Lady, I'll take care of your luggage."
Kate: "Oh, thank you. If you'd be so kind."
Red-haired crewman: "That's some nice dress and necklace you wear. Hope you have a good trip."
*flashback ends*
There he was, still dressed as a crew member, with a crooked smile on his face.
Kate: "You are the mole who commits murder to steal jewels."
The mole: "Tsk tsk, how does a little girl like you know about this?"
The mole: "No matter. I'll just kill you, take your stuff and dump your body in the sea."
His composed demeanour made it clear that he had taken countless lives.
Kate: "...why are you doing this?"
The mole: "You mean killing? Because getting jewels is more important to me."
Kate: "...!"
My former self would have been frightened here.
But now I understood.
That evil without reason also existed in this world.
The mole: "What's with those eyes? Damn you, I'm gonna kill you."
The mole: "But first, give me the necklace."
Kate: "...!"
The moment his hand reached for my chest --.
Victor: "Here I come!"
Victor: "Who is the naughty boy causing trouble on this lovely ship?"
Chapter 3 Premium
Chapter 3 Bitter
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————————————————
Cht.2 [Part 4] “Welcome new guest”
Cht.2 [Part 5.1/5.2] “Hi ! hello ? .. byeeee”
✦ ————————
[P.N] Two parts in one go !! OMGGG I was so stumped on how I wanted this final part of the chapter to work out but honestly im very happy I got to figure out something I could do for this !! *^ U ^*
Comic by NoWhere / Reaper
✦ —————————
Featured Characters
@corefrisk - Core frisk
2mi127 - Outertale!Sans
✦ ——————————
Praevious//Next
#undertale au#undertale fandom#original character#undertale comic#original comic#utmv#rwtale#reaperwheresans#core frisk#outer sans#outertale#reaperwhereartoffc
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