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7s3ven · 4 months

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HELL-FIRE. luke (pjo) - pt 1

PART 1 > PART 2 (in progress)

IN WHICH… Y/N doesn’t want to admit it, but perhaps she and the mischievous son of Hermes have more in common than she originally thought.

“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. I see my reflection in your eyes.”

Warnings : mentions of abuse

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

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The cold water lapped at Y/N’s shoulders as she sank into the tub placed strategically in the corner of the empty cabin.

Life as a forbidden kid was hard. You had no siblings and everybody was expecting you to do grand things. A small sigh slipped past Y/N’s lips as the water heated up until it was at a temperature that almost scolded her skin. Perhaps it was because Hades, the king of the Underworld, was her father but Y/N always found herself fascinated by fire. She loved to watch the blue, orange, and yellow flames flicker in the dim darkness.

It wasn’t until her arrival at Camp Half-Blood did it all make sense. Y/N, the daughter of Hades, was able to control fire. Though, she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it. It all came in random bursts and every time she walked along the crisp green grass, a trail of brightly lit flames slithered after her.

The Demeter kids hated her for ruining the plush red roses that took them weeks to nurture. Y/N could understand their fury and she did her best to avoid their plants now, especially because her fire favoured the taste of Demeter’s flowers.

A quiet knock on the wooden door interrupted Y/N’s peace. She slowly rose from the water, droplets running down her finger tips. She slowly dried herself with a soft cotton towel before slipping her bright orange shirt over her head. She slid on a pair of loosely fitting pants before turning the knob, harshly pulling the door open.

“Do you need something?” Y/N asked, frowning at the small kid in front of her. He trembled and took a nervous step back.

“Luke… he… he told me to give this to you.” The kid stretched out his hand, practically shaking as Y/N stared down at the dark red rose. A lousy gift in her opinion.

Luke was the son of Hermes and the head counsellor of his cabin. He was popular amongst the campers and girls constantly swooned over him. Y/N, on the other hand, had no interest in romance. It had always been that way ever since she was born.

Y/N was conceived into this cruel world with a cold and empty heart. Her mother thought of it as a personality disorder at first until she realized that it was just how Y/N was. No amount of love forced into her arms could change the deep anger boiling inside of her.

Y/N took the rose, peering at it and scowling. “You’ve done your job. Scram.” She shooed the young Hermes kid away, almost shoving him off her rickety wooden porch. She caught sight of Luke watching her through the clean window of his own cabin.

He had never shown much interest in her before until a year ago, where we witnessed her easily take down some of the best fighters in camp.

He grinned at her, a gesture that should have made her heart flutter. But it didn’t. Y/N silently stared at him, feeling the sudden heat rush to her fingers. She lit the rose alight and it didn’t take long until only a few crisp and blackened petals remained in her grasp.

She quickly dropped them, scattering the remains of the once beautiful flower everywhere. It acted as a constant reminder that no matter how hard Luke tried, she was simply immune to his charm.

It’s not like Y/N didn’t want to love, because she did. She saw the Aphrodite kids treating Valentine’s Day like it was some big festivals. And she noticed how many of the boys in the Apollo cabin always had their eyes glued to one of the Athena girls.

They looked at her like she was a pile of treasure; like a precious jewel. They stared at her with such admiration and adoration that Y/N felt a little jealous. How come she couldn’t love while others could?

It was probably because of the darkness lurking within her, feasting away at every small spark of happiness until it was gone, resting in the belly of the beast. Anger, jealousy, and hatred consumed her easily. And she was bitter because of it.

It was pitch black by the time Y/N collapsed on her soft mattress. She was clad in shorts and a black crop top to battle the humid weather during Summer. She was half asleep when a quiet tap and rattle woke her.

Y/N quietly groaned. She knew who was waiting by her window, wearing a spare camp t-shirt and dusty grey shorts that stopped above his knees. His tapping become quicker and sharper until Y/N had no choice but to fling the window open.

“What?” She hissed at Luke.

He always came at the same time every night. Twelve o’clock sharp in hopes of wooing her. Y/N wasn’t stupid, she knew he was after something else that wasn’t romance related but until she figured out what, she wasn’t comfortable being alone in his presence.

Luke simply smiled, resting his chin on the sill. “Walk with me?” He questioned, jabbing a thumb over his right shoulder.

“It’s past curfew.” Y/N sharply retorted, glowering at him. Beams of moonlight shone down on the pair, acting as if the world were a stage that needed to be lit. Y/N could clearly see Luke tilt his head to the side, gazing up at her through his lashes.

“It’ll be quick.” He was persistent as always.

“What part of not interested confuses you?” Y/N threw the covers back over her body, prepared to crash her head against her feathered pillow and let her eyes flutter shut.

"One walk and I'll stop annoying you for a week."

That made Y/N pause. She stared at Luke, narrowing her eyes. A week wasn't long but it was better than putting up with his presence constantly. "Okay." She slowly said, causing Luke to victoriously grin. He pumped his fist.

"If we get caught, you have to take the blame." Y/N warned Luke as she stepped out of her cabin, pointing sternly at him. He wrapped a lock of her H/C hair around his finger, standing too close to comfort.

"I'd take every blame for you." He whispered, playfully winking. Y/N rolled her eyes in reply.

"I'd let you rot in a ditch." She pushed him away, storming down the stairs of the small porch. He clicked his tongue, eyes glazing over her movements. He jogged to catch up with her, his hand brushing against her leg.

The slight breeze surrounded the two of them as Y/N glanced up at the shining stars, her eyes darting around to spot all the different constellations. Luke followed her gaze, arching an eyebrow.

"What are you staring at?" He asked, licking his chapped lips. Y/N's eyes darted to look at him before she rolled her eyes, not saying anything.

"Can't you take a hint to be quiet?" She muttered after a minute of painful silence.

"No, I can. It's a choice to annoy you." He slyly smiled, bumping Y/N with his hip. She scoffed, shoving her hand into his face.

The crickets chirped loudly as Y/N walked past them, Luke following close behind. The air was colder now and Y/N relished the feeling of it against her skin. She almost forgot the son of Hermes was with her before he cleared his throat.

"No fire following behind us?" He questioned. He was used to the flames that often licked at Y/N's ankles but never dared burn her.

"That would get us caught." Y/N retorted. She faltered for a second, "Me, I mean. It would get me caught."

Luke lowly chuckled. "Nah, too late, Blaze. You said us. So there is something between us. And here I thought you only saw me as an obnoxious idiot."

Y/N sharply clicked her tongue, glaring at him. "Don't call me Blaze. And yes, I do see you as one."

"What would you prefer then? Conflagration? Inferno? Oh, what about Holocaust?"

"I didn't even know you knew those words." Y/N uttered, blankly staring at Luke. But Blaze was surely better than being called Holocaust.

"Blaze it is." Luke slung an arm around Y/N's shoulder, carefully testing the waters. The smell of burning flesh wafted through the air and Y/N quickly shrugged Luke's arm off, panicking slightly.

"Don't touch me." She said. It was supposed to be a harsh command but it came out as more of a desperate warning. Y/N's eyes darted to Luke's burnt skin. She scowled, at both his persistence to hold her and her inability to control her angry flames. It's not like she was actively trying to hurt people. It just... happened.

"I think it's time for you to leave." She said, her voice nothing more than a whisper. "Get your arm checked."

"It's late, no Apollo kid will be awake." His sizzling flesh didn't phase him in the slightest. He had dealt with worse, far worse. Like Clarisse's spear. "Besides, I like walking with you."

"At least soak your arm in water. It'll bring down the stinging sensation as well as protect it from risk of infection." Y/N was hesitant to even get near Luke, afraid of what her ability might do lest she lost control. But Luke was fearless. He'd grip her wrist a million times, even if it meant getting burnt, just to feel her skin against his.

He was like Icarus, unrelenting in his pursuit for greatness. He adored Y/N like Icarus loved the sun; too fast and too close. In a way, Y/N was death reincarnated. Pupils so big that it was unsettling, a glare so intense it could swallow you up, and a dark grace that followed her every move. Icarus died with broken wings but a fulfilled soul, just as Luke would if it meant he could hold Y/N.

Y/N led Luke towards a small pond and dipped her hand into the cool water. It started bubbling and Y/N instantly recoiled. Luke watched her, curious.

"Why do you do that?" He asked, gaining Y/N's wavering attention.

"Do what?" She muttered, furrowing her brows in confusion. Luke lightly chuckled, staring down at the rippling water.

"The fire thing. And heating up water. Why?"

Y/N shrugged. "It's not like I do it on purpose. It's random. Heating up water is easy enough but the flames are weird. I've tried spotting a pattern but I just can't see it." Y/N held up a finger, heat rushing to the tip. A flame flickered but it wasn't like her usual orange or blue ones. It was pink.

A light pink hue reflected off Luke's face as he peered at the fire, his eyes darting to follow its wild movements. He slowly dipped his charred arm into the water, grinning at Y/N who found slight amusement in playing with the pink flame.

"You ever think your flames follow your emotions?" He piped up, tilting his head to the side.

"Excuse me?"

"Your emotions. Maybe they control your fire." He shrugged, "Your flames are usually orange but when you get angry, which happens a lot, they turn blue. And the pink... I don't know. Love?"

Y/N sneered. "Love? Who would I be in love with?" It was a ridiculous suggestion. Stupid, even. Love didn't exist in Y/N L/N's world. Luke raised his brows, silently gesturing to himself. "I'd rather kiss a dragon."

Luke reached out to touch the flame and Y/N pulled away in a panic. "Don't!" She exclaimed, but Luke's hand was already waving through the fire. It didn't hurt in the slightest and Luke smiled. Y/N's whole hand exploded into pink-toned flames and she jumped, waving her hand around until the fire went out.

"Blaze... Do your emotions... scare you?" Luke asked. Y/N lightly scoffed, glaring at Luke as she always did. A flicker of blue glazed over her E/C eyes and then it was replaced with orange which quickly shifted into pink. And it finally returned to blue before disappearing as quickly as it came.

"Your eyes... they, uh..." Luke didn't know how to describe it. "Do they... somewhat flame up a lot?"

"Ignore that." She grumbled, shielding her face from Luke's hawk-like gaze.

"You intrigue me. Why do you act so bitter all the time, Y/N?" Luke questioned, clearing his throat. She paused, lightly biting down on her bottom lip. He didn't have room to judge because despite carrying around a kind and caring facade, Luke was just as mean as her underneath it all. Y/N just... didn't bother to hide it while Luke turned his head every time his eyes darkened or his lips curled into a disgusted sneer.

"I don't have a reason. Do you ever think that maybe I'm not acting and that I was born this way? Because I'm pretty sure I was."

"There's a reason for everything."

"Okay, you want to know why?!" Y/N exclaimed, fed up with all his questions and teasing. Luke calmly gestured her to continue.

"I hate them. I hate the deities above who call themselves our godly parents. They are just as fucked up as us, if not more. I mean, what were they thinking? Fucked up people give birth to fucked up kids. They underestimate us and abandon us and still think that we'll worship the ground they walk on. If I'm being honest, I don't think they love us. My father... Hades... he had an opportunity to save me from the abuse my mother was inflicting on me."

Luke's facial expression softened. His eyes locked with Y/N's angry ones and for a split second, he saw himself in her. A demigod desperate to prove themselves to their parent only to be disappointed.

"And you know what was worse? I saw him. I met him. He came to our house one day and I didn't know it was him in that moment but after I got here, it all made sense. The man who randomly showed up on the doorstep all those years ago and acted like he knew everything about me... was my father. The same man who dumped me in the horrible care of my mother. Hades, the supposedly only God who loved his half-blood child, actually abandoned her when he had the choice to take her with him."

"I get what you mean." Luke muttered, shifting closer to her. She didn't stop him. "I feel abandoned too. My dad, he did something similar. I agree with you when you say that the gods don't love us... because I don't think they do either. We're just... their pawns. You see this scar?"

Luke's finger trailed over the scar that adorned the side of his face. "My father... he gave me a quest that Hercules had already completed. I didn't want to do something someone else had already done but I thought, how hard could it be? And I failed it... I failed the quest. And some stupid dragon scratched me and gave me this scar."

"I don't get why they think we're expendable." Y/N's hands clenched into fists and she clicked her tongue. She turned to Luke, flinching at how close he was all of a sudden.

It all happened too quickly. One second Y/N's lips accidently brushed against Luke's and the next the whole field around the pond burst into a flood of pink flames. Y/N and Luke stood in front of Chiron, hands clasped behind them. Luke stared at the ground in shame while Y/N wasn't scared to look Chiron in the eye.

"You not only snuck out past curfew, which is breaking rules, but Miss Y/N, you also burned a fellow camper and set flames to the grass."

"Chiron, sneaking out past curfew was my idea." Luke, as promised, took responsibility for his actions. "And she can't control her fire and I provoked her so I deserved it anyway." Luke shrugged.

"That still doesn't excuse your behavior. I expect you to clean all the sword before the Ares kids mess them all up again."

Y/N scoffed under her breath. "This is all your fault. I can't believe I snuck out with you of all people." Y/N poked his shoulder and a small pink flame danced across his shirt before dissolving into thin air.

"Pink means love." Luke teased.

"I will burn you again." Y/N threatened, stomping on his foot.

"Hey, you wouldn't burn your ranting partner so soon, would you?" He grinned.

Y/N didn't want to admit it but she did share a lot of similarities with Luke. From their hatred for the gods to the feeling of being abandoned. "Talking with you wasn't entirely terrible." She muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Thanks, Blaze." He gently grasped her hand, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckle. Y/N jumped and everything went up in flames again. Literally. "Y/N... Y/N, you're on fire. You are on fire!" But it didn't hurt. The flames wrapped around her like a comforting blanket as Luke stared at her in both awe and confusion. "It's kinda cool actually. It looks like you're glowing." Luke chuckled while she glared at him, wildly trying to pat the pink fire out.

"Come on, just admit you like me, Blaze. Even just a little bit. You find me pretty, don't you?"

"I do not!" Y/N exclaimed, the flames growing stronger. Luke teasingly raised his brows, staring at her with a knowing smirk. She scoffed, spinning around.

"See ya later, Blaze!" Luke called out as she stormed away. She turned around, deeply scowling at him.

"Shut up!" She shouted, a glowing trail of fire following after her and burning its way through the grass. Campers squealed at the sight, jumping out of the way.

Luke chuckled to himself, watching when Y/N sneered at a young Apollo boy. "She's so cute." He muttered to himself, shaking his head in amusement.

From the window, Chiron sighed at the familiar sight of Y/N's fire. "She's getting stronger." He said, frowning.

"So? At least her pink flames are harmless, unlike her blue ones. And don't get me started on that huge blowup she had last year. I didn't even know black flames existed until she blew up! More like exploded!" Mr D scoffed, shivering at the memory of Y/N's black flames. It was like a massive bomb went off.

Chiron was silent for a moment until he looked at Mr D. "She likes Luke." He quickly said.

Mr D instantly sat up, slamming his hand against the table in front of him. "Oh, yeah, definitely! I started shipping those two ever since they started bickering. Catch up, Chiron!"

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hihomeghere · 2 months

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Fishing in the dark | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word Count : 1.3k (a little guy) Summary : You and Arthur have a private evening away from camp on the Dakota River. Warnings/tags : Cursing, unprotected piv, talk of nudity (both male and female), cursing, reader can swim, s3x in the river, established relationship, set in chapter 3

The Dakota River was now your favorite place to be at sunset. The cool breeze coming off the sparkling water, your body cushioned by the bed of grass. The way the setting sun cast a golden light over everything it touched.

Getting away from the gang for a while had been Arthur’s greatest idea yet. After all that mess in Valentine had led you to Clemens point. Sat on the east coast of Flat Iron lake, near the town of Rhodes. Getting eaten alive by mosquitos while the heat of the Scarlett Meadows sun beat down on you.

And although you thought maybe a room in Rhodes would have been a better way to keep each other company, you couldn’t beat this view.

Arthur stood on the shore, fishing pole in hand. His tall silhouette dark against the golden light, his shadow growing longer on the rocks. What a sight, every subtle flick of his wrist, his bicep tensing and he pulled on the pole. You didn’t even know why he was still fishing so late. He had already caught dinner, which you had prepared over a small fire. While along the shore you had picked some burdock root and common bulrush for camp, knowing that Miss Grimshaw could find some use for the plants. At long last the sun fell below the horizon, a sliver of burnt amber spreading across the sky before being enveloped by a dark blue. The moon slowly rose above you. A beautiful yellow spotlight peeking through the trees.

Arthur stood, still as a statue, as though he was carved of marble. A wicked thought entered your head, slowly you moved to unlace your boots. Pulling them off until you could dig your toes into the grassy floor beneath you. Then you untied the strings to your skirt. Letting the fabric fall, along with your shirt. Leaving you standing in only your chemise, and it wasn’t long before that was discarded as well.

Arthur had heard the slight rustling of fabric behind him, but he was honestly too preoccupied with the pole in his hands. Enjoying the quiet serenity of the river. That was until you ran butt ass naked into it.

“Darlin!” He yelled his eyes widening in shock as your laughter joined the sound of water splashing.

“Come on cowboy!” You called submerged to your waist, your breasts above the water for any passersby to see. Maybe it wasn’t your best idea yet, the freezing water chilling your bones.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He chuckled, unfortunately amused by your actions even though he knew he shouldn’t be.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You called back, teeth chattering by the sudden drop in temperature.

“It looks like you’re giving anyone that passes through a free peep show.” He called his hand resting on his gun belt as he not so casually adjusted himself. You stepped back further into the dark water until only your shoulders and up were visible.

“When did you become such a prude?” You chided a teasing smile on your lips.

“When someone could lay eyes on my woman.” He said laying down his pole, crossing his arms over his chest. You felt a shiver run down your spine, whether it was from his words or the cold water you couldn’t tell.

“Well get in here and claim your woman before someone else does!” You called, a shit eating grin spreading across your face.

Arthur sighed, looking down as the brim of his hat shielded most of his face from you. Your grin only grew as he unbuckled his gun belt, letting it fall to the ground. He pulled his suspenders off his broad shoulders. He shook his head, his own grin growing on his face as he began to pull off his clothes.

“You’re gonna get it girl.” He warned, his eyes taking on a dark haze. His lips pulling back into a smirk, looking down at you like prey. An electric shock of anticipation ran up your body as he finally pulled off the last layer, his cock springing up against his stomach. He stepped forward, wading into the water. “Jesus!” He yelped, a shiver running through him.

“It’s not that bad!” You called with a laugh.

“Not that-“ He shook his head, “Christ I can’t feel my toes.” He muttered swimming over to you, his arm wrapping around you pulling you close. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you held onto his shoulders

“Hey there.” You grin, watching the water droplets run down his face.

“Howdy.” He muses, you place your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat against your palm.

“Still cold?” You ask sweetly.

“Very.” He chuckles.

“I think I could warm you up.” You say biting your lip.

“Please do.” He says softly as you lean forward. Your nose bumping against his as you stare him down. He leans forward pressing his lips against yours. His tongue swiping along your lower lip as he pressed you down onto his pelvis. Clenching around nothing as his cock bumped against the nub of your clit, a soft moan leaving your throat.

“I can feel that.” You said softly, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes.

“I’m sure you can.” His chest rumbling as he chuckled. He moved his hand from your waist and reached down between your legs. The tip of his length catching against your entrance. “Think you’re wet enough?” He teases, his teeth glinting in the moonlight as he smirks.

You bite back a rebuttal as he slips inside you with ease, he swallows your gasp as his mouth covers yours. Groaning into your mouth, a deep almost primal noise. One that sends pleasure shooting through your body. You whine as he pulls out slightly, only to press your body down onto his pelvis. His cock rubbing against that spot inside you.

He knows this dance like the back of his hand, how to make you tick, more specifically how to make you scream. The hand that’s not holding your hip with a vice like grip moves up your body, his hands splayed against your stomach. Before reaching up to cup your breast, pinching your nipple.

“Arthur.” You gasp, feeling him rut against you, growling against your neck like a wild animal.

“Feel so good darlin’.” He huffs against your neck, nipping and kissing as he continues his attack on your pussy. His cock thrusting deep strokes against your walls. Your body is buzzing, your toes curling as he brings you closer and closer to your peak. He can feel you flutter around him, his lips quirk up. He moves his hand down to between your legs, rubbing your clit.

You cry out, a pitiful noise as you cum around him. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your brows knit together as your jaw hangs open. He smirks, tilting his head back as a low, shit, leaves his mouth.

His hips start to stutter as he pounds into you, trying to reach his orgasm while you’re still working through yours. He’s quick behind you, his hands holding you so close against him you’re sure you’ll have bruises. He thrusts into you one last time, a choked groan rumbling in his chest. You hold onto him as his dick twitches inside of you. Painting your insides with his seed. You smile up at him lazily, watching his face contort in pleasure.

“Shit darlin’.” He huffs, his chest rising and falling rapidly against your own. The bite of the water is no longer a thought as his warm body presses against yours.

“You warm now, cowboy?” You tease brushing your nose against this neck, pressing a kiss over his pulse point.

“Very.” He chuckles, “But I’d like to get my beautiful girl out of these waters now.” He says grabbing a handful of your ass before throwing you over his shoulder. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

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wosoamazing · 3 months

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Mum versus Ma

Summary: You go to the world cup camp with your Mum. Based off these requests – one & two.

Warnings: none I don’t think.

A/n: Sorry, this is short. I have been working heaps the past week, but I am still working away at your requests (the Leah x Child!Reader one, the Sam redemption one and I will start on the Barca x Arsenal game one soon) and some other fics. I’m starting Uni soon so will try and get into a more regular posting routine.

“Harper” “Y/N” you and harper exclaimed as you saw each other when you arrived at camp. You loved going to Matilda’s camp because it meant you got to spend time with Harper, you would always been seen together, whether it was playing together off to the side during the occasional training so Linda could take a break, or having tea parties with Linda in the common room while the girls trained, or even just running up and down the halls together, you did everything together. Everything the media team captured melted the hearts of Australia, but the one that everyone seemed to love was the video taken of you two skipping down the tunnel holding hands, as you giggle together.

____

You were on the bench sitting on Sam’s lap, she couldn’t play because she was injured, and offered to look after you. She practically begged Tony to let her, he knew Sam was upset about her injury and so hoped having you there would make it easier, so he said yes, secretly hoping it might help everyone.

You were sporting your mini-Matilda kit, you had a temporary tattoo flag on each cheek, one was an Ireland flag, and the other was an Australia flag. You weren’t really enjoying the game, you didn’t really know who to go for, your Mum’s had never versed each other since you were born, that was until today. You didn’t really like it, they kept tackling each other, your Ma kept making Raso fall over, and Tony kept yelling that she deserved a yellow, no one was happy.

When your Ma hurt herself in the 35th minute, the teams huddled round their coaches as your Ma was getting treatment, you made grabby hands for your Mum, but she didn’t hold you like normal in team huddles, she just brushed the hair out of your face and kissed your forehead, before turning back to listen to Tony, you huffed and looked at Sam whose brows furrowed which made you laugh and you seemed to forget about being mad at your Mum.

During half time your Mum did hold you briefly before you got too squirmy, so she put you down and you ran around the locker room, no one minded though and some secretly hoped that it might mean you would sleep during the second half, considering how antsy and moody you were getting.

You did sleep briefly in the second half falling asleep promptly after Steph scored her penalty however you were woken up by fans yelling at the ref saying, “that’s a foul” “give her a yellow” and some fans booing. You saw that the ref was talking to your Ma, you quickly realised that the fans were booing her, you didn’t like that, she was just doing her job. A tear fell out of your eye, and you quickly buried your head back into Sam’s chest, who realised you were upset due to the ever growing wet patch forming on her chest, so she wrapped a spare puffer jacket around you pulling the hood up so it covered your head, and hugged you tightly, her comfort and your new found safety from the outside world caused you too drift off again.

When you woke back up, you cautiously peered out of your safety bubble and were meet with a warm smile from Sam, you then turned your head towards the field, where the Ireland and Australia players were too similar of a colour for your sleepy eyes. Most of the yellow Matilda’s jerseys had smears of green all over them, you know it’s from the grass which makes you feel icky again as it meant they had been tackled lots. There wasn’t really anything exciting happening, so you decided to go back to sleep.

You had started to wake up again when you felt two hands at your sides, before you were swiftly picked up and placed on the hip of your Mum, she kept the jumper wrapped around you but peered into the hood and she was meet with your little face smiling sleepily at her. “Want to see Ma?” you nodded eagerly.

“Where is my little Munchkin,” you Ma said before she pulled your head down, “there she is” she exclaimed causing you to let out a cute giggle. You get told to smile, while your Mum’s pose for a photo before you are put down, you make your way over to Harper and you both bear hug each other causing you both to fall to the ground before you are in fits of laughter.

“Toddlers are really just like mini drunk people” Mini chuckles.

“Definitely,” your Mum replies.

“She looks happy now, I’m glad” Sam says as she joined the three women, gaining a confused look from your Mums, “She was crying, that’s why she had the puffer around her, I didn’t want any fans or the media capturing it, I thought that would be unfair. I think its probably because it’s the first time she has watched you play against each other, and some of the fans were booing you McCabe.”

“Oh okay, we’ll have a talk with her later.” Your Ma says before kissing your Mum, causing you and Harper to simultaneous whine out “ewwww”.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #matildas #auswnt #auswnt x reader

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enchanting-jewel · 2 years

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What's really in that witch's cauldron?

Folk names for herbs

Ass' Ear- Comfrey

Bat's Wing- Holly Leaves

Beard Of Monk- Chicory

Bear's Foot- Lady's Mantle

Bird's Eye- Germander or Speedwell

Blind Eyes- Poppy

Blood From a Head- Lupine

Blood Of Ares- Purslane

Blood Of Hestia- Chamomile

Bloody Fingers- Foxglove

Calf's Snout- Snapdragon

Cat's Foot- Ground Ivy

Crow's Foot- Wood Anemone

Devil's Ear- Jack In The Pulpit

Devil's Plaything- Yarrow

Dew Of the Sea- Rosemary

Dog's Mouth- Snapdragon

Dragon's Teeth- Vervain

Elf Leaf- Lavender

Englishman's Foot- Common Plantain

Fairy Eggs- Nutmeg

Flower Of Death- Vinca

Goose Tongue- Lemon Balm

Graveyard Dust- Mullein

Hawk's Heart- Wormwood

Juno's Tears- Vervain

Jupiter's Beard- Sempervivums

Lion's Foot- Lady's Mantle

Little Faces- Viola

Man's Bile- Turnip Sap

Mortification Root- Rose of Sharyn

Nose Of Turtle- Turtlehead, Chelone

Nosebleed- Yarrow

Our Lady's Tears- Lily Of The Valley

Old Man's Flannel- Mullein

Ram's Head- Valerian

Scale Of Dragon- Tarragon

Semen Of Ares- White Clover

Semen Of Hermes- Dill

Serpent's Tongue- Dog's Tooth Violet

Sparrow's Tongue- Knotweed

Tree Of Doom- Elder

Unicorn Root- Boneset

Weasel Snout- Yellow Archangel

Wool Of Bat- Moss

Body Parts as Plants:

Eye- Blossom or Seed

Heart- Bud or Seed

Beak, Bill or Nose- Seed, Bud or Bloom

Tongue or Teeth- Petal or Leaf

Head- Blossom

Tail- Stem

Hair- Dried Herbs or Stringy Parts Of Herbs

Privates, Genitals Or Semen- Seeds Or Sap

Blood- Sap

Guts- Roots or Stalk

Paw, Foot, Leg, Wing or Toe- Leaves

Animals as Plants:

Toad- Sage

Cat- Catmint

Dog- Grasses, Specifically Couchgrass

Frog- Cinquefoil

Eagle- Wild Garlic

Blue Jay- Laurel

Hawk- Hawkweed

Lamb-Wild Lettuce

Nightengale- Hops

Rat- Valerian

Weasel- Rue

Woodpecker- Peony

I borrowed this from:

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ivys-garden · 24 days

Text

More Minecraft ideas, what part of Minecraft needs improvement?

You're wrong, it's ponds.

Ponds, lakes, lava pools. They all suck in Minecraft, they end up just being big holes in the ground with nothing interesting about them that make the landscape ugly and hole ridden

Now you might say “Ivy, literally no one cares” and to that I say, wheesht and accept my ramblings ya donut

So, how do we fix Ponds? It's simply really: make ponds generated structures.

Ponds would now be generated structures taking up one chunk, with an actual human made design to make them, you know, look good. There would be, say, 100 or so different designs to stop them looking to samey (they'd be so small that something like that would be feasible)

Lakes would be done similarly, only with the key difference, they would be made up of 4 chunk “cells”, each making up a corner of the lake.

ponds and lakes in plains or forest biomes would be made of blocks like mud and dirt.

Ponds and lakes in deserts (or oases if you want) would be made up of grass and sand

Ponds and lakes in tundras would be frozen over on the top layer of the water and with clay spawning around the water

Now, let's see some things that can be found in ponds and lakes:

Frogs

Nothing new here, frogs and frogspawn are most common ponds, pond frogs also only come in the green frog varietie.

Perhaps the oasis can have a desert rain frog variant that gives a purple frog light

Toads

Toads and toad spawn can be found in lakes and ponds in forest and plains biomes. Toads emerge from toad spawn in the same way frogs do. Toads have an exaggerated size, being double the size of the frog

Toads come in several colours (Green, Brown, Yellow, Orange and Lime) but these colours do not harbour any game mechanics (in other words: sorry but there are no toadlights)

Toads will eat all mobs with wings, that being the Parrot, Chicken, Phantom, Bat, Bee and the player if they are wearing an elytra, so watch out.

All the aforementioned mobs are scared of Toads, making them and effective deterrent to phantoms in particular

Cattails, Reeds, Rice, Algae and Papyrus

I'll just do all the plant life stuff at once (these will generate dependent on the pond or lake cell)

Algae is a new decorative blocks that can be placed on water

It will connect to other blocks, creating an unbroken surface across the water

Algae has a bright green hue and can be found in both ponds and lakes with the same frequency

Papyrus is a new plant that spawns naturally in the oasis, it is used as a more efficient way of making paper as it can be bonemealed and only one papyrus is needed to make paper

Rice is a plant that grows in water in lakes and ponds spawning in cherry groves.

Rice can be used in two recipes:

Rice Bowls:Putting rice, a bowl and any meat together will craft a rice bowl

This food source that can be eaten twice, eating the meat and then the rice

Sushi: putting rice, dried kelp and one fish into a crafting table creates Sushi, a foodsoarch that can be eaten instantly without playing the eating animation, not very nutritious but good in a pinch

Cattails are a purely decorative plant found in ponds and swamps

Reeds are more common around rivers and lakes, being a fern like plant that grows two tall.

Reeds can be used to craft a new item: Pan Pipes

Combining 3 reeds and 3 string will create pan pipes, these can be played to draw passive mobs towards you so long as the button to play them is held down.

Pan Pipes can also calm neutral mobs like wolves, iron golems and bees, but doing this instantly focus the Pan pipes into cool down

Pan pipes have a cool down double that of the Goat Horn

Bagpipes

By putting Pan Pipes, 3 iron nuggets, 3 red wool and 3 green wool together you can make Bagpipes.

Bagpipes have durability on top of having the same level of cool down as Pan Pipes. Bagpipes cannot be enchanted.

Bagpipes have the ability to PERMANENTLY pacify all hostile mobs in the chunk the player is in.

Bagpipes will break after 10 or so uses

Willow and Palm

Willow and palm are new wood types, Willow spawns around lakes and ponds and Palm spawns around oases.

Willow has a dark Bluish-green colour, complementing mangrove, where as Palm is a desaturated pale white

(These will generate depending on the pond or lake cell)

(Part 1/3)

#minecraft suggestions #minecraft ideas #minecraft #ponds #part 1 #part 1/3 #the beginning

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just-your-average-cryptid · 1 year

Text

most of us have heard of the red car game. you’re on a road trip, you’re bored, you start looking for red cars to do something.

and then they’re everywhere. you notice them nearly every few minutes.

there aren’t suddenly more red cars now, of course. you were seeing them already, but you weren’t noticing. you weren’t looking.

I am noticing things.

there is a plant I notice everywhere now, a small bushy plant in suburbs, along streets, by shops on the highways. dwarf umbrella bush is what the internet tells me when I look for it’s name. I did this because I wanted to know why,

every time I ever saw it, every place,

it was always dying. always the leaves turning yellow, the branches small and scraggly. inside out - nitrogen deficiency. their soil drained.

I am noticing how many of these landscaping plants are yellowing, how small and sickly they look in just a few years. I am noticing how often the grass outside the house is replaced when it once again turns brown and dry, how the type never changes and the cycle starts again. I am noticing how the unmowed, unkempt spaces on lakesides and roadsides look more alive than this. how the preserve I grew up next to was miles of “messy” unmanicured nature and the ground was covered in leaves instead of grass and there was life.

I am noticing the birds that come by the lake. there was a flash of blue wings and red chest - eastern bluebird, male, relatively common. I had never seen one before. there is a family of ducks that appear every spring; i cannot say if it’s successive generations or different ducks, but I can always look forward to ducklings. there are little brown birds with white heads whose names I do not know - are they some kind of piper? why don’t I already know?

why is it so hard to learn about my native plants (accurately, that is)? why are so many gardening sites littered with people who think a plants value is based on how pretty or useful it is to them, who think a tree shedding leaves is “messy”?

why is knowing about the world we live in so… odd? why is it a hobby and not vital knowledge? I learned about polar equations. I taught myself about mycorrhizal networks and species of insects.

(did you know there are shiny green bees? a special species of wasp pollinating figs? that white flowers bloom at night for moths? do you know? have you looked?)

I cannot look at a lawn and see life anymore. it is a wasteland, devoid of life, dying slowly itself. everywhere is grass, grass, doused in water that runs over into storm drains, soaked in fertilizer and pesticides and a hundred other poisons and sending one clear message:

this is a place of death. life is not welcome here.

I do not think I could live in a city. too loud, yes, too busy, yes, too many people, yes, but the plants would bother me. a tree allotted only a convenient square, surrounded by dead stone and metal.

a forest cleared for this, for burning asphalt streets and racing cars and shops whose bathrooms are “for paying customers only”.

this is a place of death. life is not welcome here.

and now I am noticing.

#it speaks #idk man this is stream of consciousness and it’s midnight lol #I’m having thoughts about plants and people and how much I hate lawns #anti lawn #firmly believe that nature knowledge should be taught in school #yeah there’s biology but biology won’t teach you what plants are edible or deadly #or what birds live/migrate in your area and what they depend on #they teach civics bc even if you’re not politically active you should know how the government works #if you live in a world you should know how it works #bc even if it feels like it doesn’t matter. it does. it will. and if you notice it now you can do something about it

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mishapeep · 1 month

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Uh, I saw your post and you mentioned that you teach the kids... how do I put it... that are given to you at social functions due your park ranger aura for safekeeping how to tell the difference between predatory lightning bugs and normal lightning bugs.

And then you didn't tell us that secret! May I ask you to share the difference between predatory lightning bugs and normal ones?

Thank you very much :)

By popular demand and because this was the most polite ask: how to tell the predatory lightning bugs from the non-predatory lightning bugs.

First, there are over 2000 species in Lampyridea. I am not qualified to distinguish between all that. I grew up in Northern Ohio (71 species) and every year summer wasn’t official until the lightning bugs came out in the evenings (usually the first or second week of June).

This is our first clue. The first lightning bugs out each evening are a species of non-predatory chaps. Their glow goes in a special pattern. Flash, pause, “J” shaped flight about 2 -3’ off the ground. Repeat. Their glow is more yellow and lingers. These are the males of Photinus pyralis or the common eastern firefly. They look like this:

(Photo from iNaturalist: a lightning bug beetle, mostly black with gold lines around the wing casing. Head shield is yellow with a red “eye” with black iris in the center. Rounded front and back, long down the center.)

Their females hide in tall grasses waiting for the right suitor. If you’re lucky and clever you can see her dimmer flash in the grass beaconing the males closer.

As the dark of night progresses you’ll start to see a quicker, brighter, greener flash. Blip, blip, blip, blip, long pause. They are FAST! They’ll also mimic the flashes of Photinus females. These are usually higher up off the ground. Even in the trees! These lightning bugs aren’t looking for love.

Photuris (not gonna get to specific epitaph on this one without a sample and a key) are looking for dinner!

(Photo from blog.greatparks.org another lightning bug beetle. This one is slightly larger than the non-predatory bug. It has “shoulders” and extra gold lines running through the back. Its legs are longer and its shield is more “sharp”. The shield marking is less like an eye and more like a yellow D where the inside is a red triangle with a black line running through.)

Another way to tell is to go out at night and catch a bunch of lightning bugs (if you can; I hear they’re getting scarce). Offer them a slice of apple. If you wake up in the morning to only a few and the rest are dead, good chance you found some predators. (This is how I found out about them! Wooops!!)

Lightning bugs are freaking magical. I’m so sad to hear that they are yet another wonder that we are losing at an alarming rate. If this bugs you as much as it bugs me there are a few things you can do to help them:

1) do not spray for mosquitoes! That spray is not-species specific. It’s bad for lightning bugs. It’s bad for monarch butterflies. It’s bad for birds. It’s bad for bats. It’s bad.

2) kill your lawn. But Misha! You said they breed in the grasses! True! However native plants are going to provide so much more habitat for these guys than a gross monoculture of Kentucky bluegrass ever will. The Midwest has some of the best native plant nurseries in the country! Use that resource!

3) Advocate for them and donate to conservation if you’re able. Bugs don’t have voices and they fight an uphill battle just for being a bug.

Thanks for joining my ranger talk! Support your parks.

#lightning bug #fireflies #firefly #glow worm #bug #bugs #beetles

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rippersz · 8 months

Text

𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝕴𝖓 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖘

Medusa!Larissa Weems x Blind!Reader (wlw/fluffy/mythological)

"You and only you, can make the rest of my life peaceful," ~ Madeleine Smith

~~~~~~~~

A gentle ebb and flow threaded through the leaves and water. The small waves in the river went forward, the green strands of the grass went back, and so in tune they were when the other changed direction. Forward and back and back and forward. They paid no mind to the birds - those of which flitted from one nest to the other. Nor did the rabbits or deer, grazing and passing through, interrupt their little dance. Forward and back and back and forward. The fish swam with no place in mind and the wolves were silent in their daily musings - tasked to do with whatever it was that wolves were tasked to do on such a sweet day.

The snow of the previous season had been shed; soaked into the ground over the past two weeks while the sun stretched her arms over her head and yawned with a big hello. She carried Spring along with her and spread her over the ground, making love until evening so that the fruits of their desire fell into seeds. Figs, apples, berries, nuts, and foliage dotted the bushes, the nettle, and the trees. All slowly growing ripe in their waiting, blooming in large families to match the quick growth of the flowers. White flowers, pink flowers, red flowers, yellow flowers; lilacs and lavenders and daisies and on the far side of the traveled grounds, even roses.

It was picturesque. Undisturbed. Serene in a way that many places weren’t. The breeze was constant and fresh and the sun peeked from behind big fluffy clouds, announcing her presence with a soft whisper.

And so beautiful it was that she was perfectly content with leaning beside the stone wall of the cave’s entrance; eyes trained on nothing but the journal in her hands. It was worn and old, made from leather with a latch clasp that was slowly rusting, but it was thick and good - full of notes and ideas and places and numbers. 1546 years of being alive as she was, tallying each day until the bitterness overwhelmed the distinct pride of prolonged survival and the tallies became a thing of the past. After all, there was no need to count when the days weren’t numbered.

Sure, there was a bounty on her head, but that didn’t matter. Not in the glory of a new Spring. There was no room for bloodshed on such a beautiful afternoon - and so she was not worried about a bumbling blistering fool with a great ego and dull blade. And so she was not worried about a feral creature with no regard for predator and prey dynamics. And so she was not worried about a-

“AGH!”

-woman?

Her head snapped up, rousing small hisses from the slumbering children.

The woman, she quickly confirmed, had fallen into the river. On her hands and knees, she wavered in the current and let out little sounds- huffs and grunts and even a small curse of ‘Gods, honestly!’- while she scrunched up the fabric of her skirt in her hands and struggled to her feet. Her hair, scraggly and unclean, hung over her face, wet at the ends and dry at the top.

A part of her felt the need to offer assistance, but common sense told her to stay put - and only to watch. Eventually, as time would say, the strange woman managed to trip her way over to the river’s bank and press her hands into the mud and rock. Then she scrambled up, her sandaled feet working in earnest to help lug her body over the edge and finally- finally- leave her belly up in the grass, heaving great breaths of air. Up and down her chest fell while she faced the sky. Her skirt, patterned and brown, hung below her knees and stuck to her legs; and the shirt, white and flowing and clearly a bit too big for her frame, turned see-through with the water-lined hem that rested against her sides. Her feet were bare in her simple sandals and aside from a blue worn shoulder bag- one that strapped sideways along her front- there was nothing particularly distinct about the stranger. She was just a woman returning home. Or a woman searching for something. Or a woman on a mission to provide for her family.

But whichever she was, woman with a purpose or not, she was no friend. And so she made no move to leave her cave and instead, sat, and returned to her journal.

So the breeze passed.

And the clouds strolled.

The river went forward. And the grass went back.

And for a good long while, nothing happened.

Then there was a shuffling, and a noise of effort, and a soft simmer of hisses began to rise. Feeling the slow slipping of movement on top of her head, she looked up.

The woman had gotten to her feet, apparently done with her momentary bask in the sun, and began ringing out the water at the bottom of her skirt. The bag she had was on the ground, and everything in it was spread out on the grass. From her point by the cave, a good distance away, she could see a few bits of light clothing, a comb, a small stone knife (which needed a good sharpening), and two wrapped bits of woven leaves and twine. There was no scent of meat in the air, aside from the flesh of the fauna within the forest, so she figured the woman most likely carried berries and nuts for nutrition. Which was, judging by the contents on her person, certainly not enough in an effort to run away.

The woman looked up. Her body jumped - like a spooked young doe, and her own body tensed. Silently, she told her children to hush. Then she thought, wished,-

‘Don’t turn your head. Don’t turn your head. Don’t turn your head. Don’t-’

Apparently deciding that there was nothing to worry about, the stranger kept her back turned to the cave and went back to wringing out her clothing. The hisses and movement had ceased, but the children were still vigilant - watching with perceptive sapphire eyes as the stranger then began to- oh!

She looked away, turning her head so quickly that the children jerked with her. One of the younglings instantly took the opportunity to slide along the shell of her ear and give a mean rumbling clicky-hiss. Absent-mindedly, she reached up to flick the child back into place; paying more attention to her own behavior than anything else.

The woman had reached to take off her shirt- to draw it above her midriff and throw it onto the grass. The river, mixed with the Springtime air, was a good place to stop and bathe, she supposed. It was her plan later anyway to go for a dip herself, if not to feel clean then to at least wash the little companions she carried with her. But the woman beat her to it. And in the silence as she averted her gaze, ignoring the blush of heat on her pale cheeks, the soft sounds of clothing hitting the ground some feet away filled the air. And when that was said and done, a few splashes and small shrieks - drawn from the chill of the river.

When it was quiet, and she was comfortable enough to sneak a look, she found the woman’s back turned to her still. Her hair was wet and slicked, sticking slightly to her neck as she turned this way and that and- oh. She had soap too. So that must have been in one of the two woven bundles.

‘Hm. Smart.’ But not entirely. It wasn’t good to stay long bathing out in the open. Hunters and gatherers and silly stupid mortals had a habit of coming around at the most inopportune times.

She knew that very well.

Though… since the woman was washing up near her cave… there was no harm in observing the scenery. No harm in taking interest in the sun. No, not at all. They would each have their privacy, and as long as the woman didn’t turn around, everything would be fine. And she could keep an eye out… for birds, of course. Not hunters. No no.

So that’s how it went.

The woman bathed, humming to herself, keeping her back to the cave and turning only to lather soap on another part of her body. Completely unaware of the forest creatures watching her. And one creature in particular made it her mission to watch the land, observing and peering; hearing the crackles of branches and chirping of baby birds, listening for footsteps or voices. But none came. And soon enough, the woman was rising from the river, putting on her sandals, and going to sit on the laid out skirt from earlier. She had no cloth to dry off… and so would use the sun.

‘Hm. Not so smart.’ A hiss or two from her children told her they agreed.

It was not right for a woman to be so vulnerable like that. And out in the open. If she weren’t there, the stranger could be hurt. Or worse - killed. But it was good then that she wasn’t alone, wasn’t it? That she had a guardian of sorts… who would kill her too if only she looked her way.

Did- had she fallen asleep?

Like that?

In the middle of the grass with her belongings spread around her and her body, soft and nude, bared to the sun?

‘Is she mad?’

Maybe she was. Or maybe she was just young. Maybe life hasn’t hurt her too severely just yet. And maybe Larissa was being harsh.

Hm.

Well.

It didn’t really matter either way. There was nothing else to do, and though the stranger wasn’t really ‘company’, she was still action. So there was no desire to chase her off and there was no desire to see her maimed - thus, Larissa sat. She tucked long pale legs beneath her, shifted the white chiton to fall on her shoulders just so, and kept her journal close at hand. Night was due to fall soon enough, as it always did in early Spring, so the tools for a fire were already prepared behind her - waiting to be utilized and set later. Hopefully the woman would be gone by then.

But she wasn’t.

At some point, she’d gotten up to change into different clothing; a dress hand-stitched from red dyed fabric. It was pretty, yes, but not very practical for running away.

‘But good clothing was probably the only thing she had.’

Which was most likely true, Larissa mused. Many young women, richer than most, took it upon themselves to run away. Their reason for doing so depended on who they were. The stranger in the red dress, who decided to lay on the grass and fall asleep again, was a woman of status but not to the point of being a royal. If that were the case, there’d be men on horses trailing close behind. Unless they hadn’t found her yet… and were using dogs to track her scent…

The children stirred, hissing with disdain and fear.

She watched the young woman with anxious eyes.

Such a naive thing could lead to her death, once and for all…. and how ironic would that be. A scorned woman with a passion for soft things… destroyed by a soft woman with a passion for a free life. Had they both wanted that at one point? Or was it still something they desired?

The children settled. She continued to watch the land.

But eventually, as Spring would have it, the peacefulness of the quiet had her lulling off to sleep as well. And she only awoke to the feeling of soft kitten licks at her cheekbones. The repeated lap at her skin had her groaning and flicking the offender away - only to have two more slide up and continue twice as hard.

“Ugh, what is it?” She groaned, scrunching her eyes together before pushing herself upright.

The licks turned to urgent hisses- and her darlings started writhing with anxiety- telling her to get up! And if possessed, she stood quickly and looked out into the sudden dark of night. The sun had disappeared. There was not a single light out there in the black. But there was movement. Breath.

The woman. She was still asleep. Dreaming about whatever it was that women liked her dream about.

Larissa frowned.

Well she couldn’t just leave her out there, could she? No! That was- that was… inhumane. Terrible. A fate worse than anything. And if she woke up to the screams of the stranger- if she woke up to her pain… she could risk killing everyone in sight. Literally.

A young king nipped at her ear.

She huffed. Well. It just wouldn’t do. It just wouldn’t do at all.

And so she collected the fabric of her chiton in her clawed hands and marched forward to the sleeping beauty. The creatures were stiff with observation, keeping their reptilian eyes sharp and alert as she moved - quiet as a snake and dangerous as… well. Herself.

When she was finally standing over the stranger, she let the cloth fall from her hands. The woman, in comparison to her, was short. And vulnerable. And maybe she’d just take her to the edge of the nearest village… or something like that. Something far from her cave and her life. But as she finished slipping the woman’s belongings into her bag (which had since dried from her fall in the river), a whisper rumble of thunder from the clouds above had her sighing. Well. A Spring storm was usually a good sign of the incoming year, but to have one so early was… less than favorable. Her plans, too, were foiled. The children quite disliked the rain, and getting her own clothing wet was something she desperately wanted to avoid (the heavier material took much longer to dry than what the strange woman wore - so she’d have to resort to at least another change of clothes for a day. Which she seldomly tried to wear.)

‘Well. We can’t leave her out here. So as long as she keeps her back turned, we won’t have any trouble now will we?’

No, probably not. Hell for all she knew, the woman could sleep through the whole night and then she could put her back outside in the morning and she could tottle off on her way as though nothing ever happened. Or she could wake up in the middle of the night and take Larissa’s head. Yes. Or that could happen. Which would really be quite terrible. Most likely painless, but still terrible.

The thought of that had Larissa pausing. The woman’s sling bag fell limp in her hand.

Was she taking too big of a risk? Never before had she helped a stranger like that, but she was not unfamiliar with such kindness. It was hard to find in her years, but she’d witnessed the sweetest acts of tenderness amongst strangers. Usually between two women.

She frowned. Some of her children turned, peering over to look down at the sleeping stranger.

Her hair covered her eyes and her limbs were spread out like she was sleeping on the comfiest bit of cloud that ever existed. Like she had no cares at all. It was both endearing and confusing. How could a woman sleep so soundly in the wilderness? How could a woman sleep so soundly in the open? Did her lack of awareness make her an omen of danger? Or was she a passing soul Larissa could provide help for? Someone to make her feel like she was human again… Like she was capable of being good instead of being what she… was.

A flash of lightning in the distance, above the forest before her, told her it was time to hurry up. Spring held no qualms about trapping the world in a downpour, and she didn’t feel like trekking through mud before bed.

So making up her mind quickly, Larissa slung the stranger’s bag over her shoulder and bent down to pick her up. She tried to be mindful of her sharp fingers when sliding her hands beneath the woman’s back and thighs; though surprisingly, for all of her mortal weight, she was easy to carry. Strength, Larissa had figured early on into her ‘new life’, was one of the very few advantages she’d gained after her transformation. But never before had she picked up a human. And never would she do it again as she realized how difficult it was to keep from jostling them. She was just so… limp. Her head lolled a little bit and her arms ragdolled and she looked more like a young woman than an adult stranger. But nonetheless, Larissa carried her back to the cave. The children were silent, understanding somehow that they were not to wake the mortal with their clicks and hisses and little rattling sounds. As endearing as their mother found it, the human would not take too kindly to their existence - before she turned into nothing but a statue, of course.

‘Don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up,’ Larissa thought desperately to herself as she padded into the cave and placed the woman onto her bed. There was nowhere else for her to rest, and it wasn’t like Larissa was planning on getting much sleep in her company anyway, so onto the little nest of stolen blankets, wool, and pillows she went. Slipped so easily from Larissa’s pale arms - and then cared for even more when she went about gently turning her around onto her side, belly facing the cave wall, before pulling the mismatched bed coverings up to her shoulders.

The thunder and lightning from the world beyond was growing more intense by the second, striking a worried chord in her heart that had her quickly placing the woman’s bag beside her body and flitting around to get her home comfortable for the evening. The routine followed as it did every night. Gently unwind the twine that holds back the bramble, vine, and leaf-woven curtains to each side of the cave wall; being careful of the sap-gum that held everything in place. Then gently arrange the curtains, as thick and prickly as they were, to cover the entirety of the cave’s entrance. Once that is finished, move around in the dark for the corner in which the fires are conducted - then go about striking the rock and the wood and adding the sticks and gathering a flame and letting out a sigh of relief when the warm glow fills the grey emptiness of the space.

She had planned on going hunting that evening, before sundown, but the stranger stole all of her attention away; and searching for meat during a storm was a fruitless mission. They were both lucky then that Larissa had enough forethought to search for various nuts, grains, and fruits the day previous. They were stored away behind the fabric of her pillow… which was preoccupied by the woman’s sleeping head.

The world rumbled as Larissa propped herself up against the cave wall. There was never much to do besides ponder, write, sleep, and hunt… so she turned back to her journal, deciding to spend some time detailing the woman she came across. Her hand moved with sharp twirls and scritches, writing of how strange the mortal was; how innocent; how peaceful she looked sleeping in her bed, completely unaware of the monster that lurked behind her. Like a daisy in a pretty green field… soon to be trampled beneath the hungry paw of a bastard wolf; left without the gift of seeing so she couldn’t even anticipate her untimely death. It was rather sad. It was rather brutal. No woman deserved a fate such as that - for she was only running away and did not think she would be dragged into the cave of a beast.

As the embers of the flame died, the woman continued to sleep. There reached a point where Larissa thought she was dead. Despite being able to hear the warm thump of her heart, she still stood and loomed over the stranger - only to find that yes, she was still alive. Just resting.

‘Must have been quite a long journey if she’s been asleep for that long,’ she mused to herself, turning away to tend to the puttering glows of their fire.

Though as soon as the rain started, coming down in thick pats upon the mud outside of the cave, the huddle of blankets in her bed stirred, and her children stood - turning to glare at the sound. A soft swishing fell into the thunderstorm’s undercurrent as the woman moved her legs, kicked them out to stretch, groaned softly beneath her breath, and turned onto her back. She pawed at her hair, eyes still closed, and Larissa reached up to wrap her index finger and thumb around the snout of her eldest child.

‘Don’t speak,’ she quietly commanded the bunch, ‘I do not want to be the last thing she sees.’

But the crackling of the fire, paired with its warmth and light, had the woman releasing a confused hum as she shuffled onto her hands and pushed herself up to sit. Larissa watched, silent, while the stranger slowly came back to her senses and regained consciousness.

“Is there- what-” she spoke, soft voice trailing off into a myriad of inaudible questions.

The child in her grasp wriggled, having had enough of its mother’s scolding, eager to rejoin the others in their free scrutiny. She finally let it go, tapping its pale head with the tip of one finger, and then slid the journal from her lap and placed it onto the cave’s floor as quietly as she could. Spooking the woman was the last thing she wanted to do, but as she stood to her full height and gently pulled some of the loose fabric of her chiton closer to her body, the stranger jumped anyway - and instantly got to her feet.

Larissa’s heart stopped, tripping over itself as she jerked her head down.

“Wh-Who’s there?! What do you want with me?! I have a knife!!” The stranger’s voice, scared and loud, full of false bravery, was quieted by the rain and thunder.

‘You don’t have a knife. You don’t know where it is,’ was Larissa’s inner thoughts- right as the woman began murmuring to herself.

“Wait. Where is the knife…” and only when there was the dull sound of knees dropping onto fabric, did Larissa finally bring her blue eyes up.

The woman, in her absence of the knife… went looking for it. On her hands and knees… patting the ground… searching through the fabrics of the bed and slapping her soft palms against the stone of the cave’s floor… frantic and confused…

Larissa frowned.

“It’s in your bag.”

—

You jumped, letting out a harsh breath while your heart skipped up into your throat.

“Who goes there?! Who are you?!” Your voice was shrill, loud and scared as you forgot about the knife and went pushing yourself back up into your feet. “I-I know how to fight!” You yelled into the darkness, putting up your fists.

It was a lie of course- you had no idea how to fight- but that didn’t matter. As long as the person- woman?- thought you were tough enough to hold your own.

But when you huffed and puffed and bared your teeth, keeping your fists up, nothing happened. Complete silence filled the air, interrupted only by the rain and the flicker of a fire nearby. You could feel its warmth on you even in your panic - even as you stepped back and back and back until your shoulders hit something hard behind you. It was a wall; a curved imperfect wall that told you you weren’t in a cabin or home with extremely open windows, somewhere in the woods, but were instead in… in… well. You didn’t actually know. It’s not like you could see and just find out. Though despite that, you still looked around wildly - keeping your ears open for movement.

There was none.

You frowned.

“…How… are… you…?” It was a woman! The voice, spoken in front of you, across whatever space you were in, was smooth and deep. Accented. She sounded strange. Foreign. And also incredibly confused. Almost… astounded? Like she couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“Don’t make me ask again,” you warned, reminding yourself that some women could be just as dangerous as men, “what do you want with me?”

“Blind…” came the soft response; so quick- it was in the air before you finished speaking; so quiet you had to strain to hear. “You’re… blind.”

Well. Yes. It was a rather defining feature; one that many noticed and took advantage of. One that people thought they could ‘work with’ and use to trick you - but you were clever. And strong. And personable in a way that many didn’t expect. The stranger across from you though… she was still just another potential danger. Still just a thing to be aware of. And so you cleared your throat and nodded, putting your hands at your sides and curling them into fists.

“Yes. I am. And what about it?” You sniffed, tilting your head up, trying to seem braver than you were.

No amount of cleverness, after all, could save a blind woman from a tricky death. If the river you had fallen into earlier was a cavern or a very deep pit, you would have been finished. Thank goodness you took advantage of it at the time.

“…Nothing. I apologize. I have- never met a blind person before,” the woman spoke, stilted and cautious. Still with an undercurrent of awe in her voice. It was peculiar, the way she was acting, but you shrugged it off. The apology was unexpected but not unwelcome. It had you squinting into the nothingness of your vision.

“Well. Now you have.” You nodded, suddenly feeling rather awkward.

—

Yes. She had. You were right.

Right and blind.

Blind. Unable to see.

The children froze, and she felt the way they looked at each other, unsure and confused. No doubt wondering ‘What issss happening?’ They were too familiar with mortal skin turning grey and hard at the smallest glimpse in their direction to understand what was happening. All they knew was their mother and solitude. And she, likewise, had no concept of how to deal with a stranger that did not want to- or simply couldn’t- kill her.

The milky color of the stranger’s eyes, although rare and odd, was beautiful. Like the wispy white of the clouds when they blanketed the moon at midnight. Light and dark at the same time… grey under a matter of circumstance. The cherry on top of the woman’s strange existence. Shocking to a new face but glorious to a trained eye. Her children observed the mortal with unending curiosity; casting violence aside as they slithered to their tallest heights and curled down, swaying their small pale heads. The situation was lost on them, but that didn’t matter. They’d understand eventually. Perhaps when the woman was gone the previous morning and she could muse over the mortal out loud to herself.

But until then,

“Are you hungry?” She wasn’t sure what else to ask.

—

You felt your stomach rumble- speaking to you as though the mention of eating had woken it up from its slumber.

“Um yes… you’re not going to poison me though, are you?”

There was a short gasp.

“Goodness, no. Why would I do that?”

She sounded so outraged- so shocked by your question- that you almost smiled. You couldn’t see her expression, but there was sincerity in her velvet voice. Like she was genuinely surprised, if not offended, that you’d ask her of all people that. It didn’t matter if you’d asked in slight jest or not; she didn’t seem to understand the consequences that came with literal blind trust.

“Some people like to take advantage,” you murmured, shrugging at the same time. Most women understood what you meant. People during that time, men in particular, saw the weak souls of the world and let their eyes light up with the chance to exert power. It was common. It was difficult. The woman opposite you, you were nearly certain, understood the sentiment as well.

“I–… yes. I realize that,” she stated, her voice growing firm. “But I’m not going to poison you. I’m not a m-” There was a soft hissing hush that filled the air, cutting into her words with a sharp strength you couldn’t ignore

What on Earth…

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” was the quick response. “I have nuts and berries I found not too long ago. Will that be enough?”

Your brow furrowed. What was she hiding?

“Um yes- yes that would be lovely… thank you.”

And with that, the stranger let out a hum and went walking around, shuffling along to grab a few things while you stood there on (what you assumed was) her bed. It was soft; pillowed with linens and fabrics and blankets that felt as though they’d come from all over the world when you shifted from one foot to the other. You frowned at the odd feeling and stepped off of the coverings- not wanting to flatten or dirty her sleeping area. It was kind of her to even put you there in the first place; though you wondered if she’d carried you herself or dragged you along. Not many women in your time, or the village where you were from, had the strength or initiative to pick up another woman and carry her anywhere, let alone their own bed. But if you were dragged along the grassy terrain outside, you surely would have felt the bumps and stops, no?

Either way, as soon as you stepped onto the hard ground of- well- wherever- you were at, you turned to the sound of movement and cleared your throat.

“And um… thank you for taking me here. Keeping me safe. You didn’t have to do that, but you did anyway. So- I appreciate it.” You fidgeted; keeping your hands at your waist and picking at the soft skin around your nails.

The shuffling paused.

“…You’re welcome.” The stranger replied softly.

It was almost like she wasn’t sure what to say. Like she didn’t hear the words ‘thank you’ very often. Like maybe she didn’t come into contact with people very often. And perhaps she didn’t. How else could she have found you if she didn’t live away from civilization? It wasn’t unheard of; it was just not very common. But, as you always said, to each their own. There was no room for judgment, after all - the woman probably ran away in a similar fashion as you did. In the very beginnings of morning, before the sun even rose, with everything you could think to carry in a satchel slung across your shoulders, heading out into the world as though it wouldn’t prove to be as dangerous as the life you left had been. The only difference being that nothing could make you want to return to that - not even the scary sounds that came out of the forest at night. The woman, even if only for one evening, was a saving grace.

And still a stranger.

She puttered around some more, dragging soft things across the ground- leaf bowls you assumed- and poured water into clay cups.

“I never got your name, you know. So I can remember you.” It was a hesitant thing to say, but you figured that if you somehow made friends with the woman, you could come back to her one day if you ever needed the shelter. Or the company. The world was tough, after all; and not always did a woman succeed on her own.

That woman had, though.

That woman, who stopped her actions again and allowed the combined ambience of the rain and fire to melt into the space.

That woman, who inhaled sharply before exhaling into one spoken breath:

“Larissa.”

(Thank you for reading! Do let me know if you'd prefer the other layout/way of editing with the text dividers and character gifs. This Medusa thing may become a little series like Cannibal Larissa. Let me know what you think? Until next time, darlings - Rip x)

~~~~~~~~

(Tags [please know that Tumblr will not let me properly @ some accounts] : @oddball21 @kaymariesworld @bloommushroom @readingtheentrails @thegoddamnfeels @theonefairygodmother @theflashesoflove @sweetderacine @opalthefrog @gwensfreak @shyladyfan @erablaise-blog @bellatrixsbrat @sunnyanon @emilynissangtr @lex13cm @sugipla @hasthebaconinhispants @deongocrazy @nocteangelus15 @eveymay @one-pining-queer @azu-zu @niceminipotato @hopelessly-sapphic @barbarasstar @enchantressb @syrenacrainn @im-a-carnivorous-plant @willowshadenox @aemilia19 @ladylarissaweems @scarlettssub @ladysdraga @willisnotmental @gela123 @h-doodles @zillahofviolets-bayolet )

#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #larissa weems #fanfiction #larissa weems x reader #wlw fanfic #gwendoline christie #larissa weems x y/n #principal larissa weems #principal weems #larissa x reader #principal weems x reader #medusa au #medusalarissaweems #blindreader

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jawz · 5 months

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i’ve been thinking a lot lately about the way my ethnicity affected the way i was gendered as a child, my drive to transition, and even my detransition…

as a hispanic growing up with my white mom and white stepdad and white brother and white extended family in scandinavian hell (minnesota), i always felt different, always felt wrong. (my parents divorced as a baby, and my dad and his family, cuban and italian, all live in florida.) my neighborhood wasn’t so bad; it was way more diverse than the metro area itself. growing up i had mixed friends, i had friends with curly hair… but us trailer park kids were only a fraction of the population of our schools and district. a sea of blonde hair. there were times in elementary school i would literally pray to god to make my hair straight, make my eyes blue. grown-ups touched my hair and always asked “is it naturally curly?”. my classmates urged me to straighten it and by age 13 it was part of my ridiculously time-consuming “feminizing” beauty rituals.

much earlier, by the age of 8 or 9, i already had thick, dark hair growing on my legs. other kids, boys and girls alike, called me “gorilla girl”, faked gagging when i wore shorts, insisted i was actually a boy. that one became more and more common as i came into my personality: bold, class clown, competitive with the boys. (always wanting to charm the girls, but i didn’t recognize that back then.)

my mustache was there by 8, as well. just a little peach fuzz above my lip but dark enough to notice. are you even a girl? my mom would spread wax over her own face and soon began waxing my stache as well. it hurt so badly. i put up with it because she said it would make the kids stop teasing me. of course i was a girl- she was a woman and she had peach fuzz too!… but i felt self-conscious at the fact that my body hair was so much more noticeable, even as a child. my mother’s hair is very thin, straight, lighter brown; her complexion is warmer than mine, pink where mine is olive, green and yellow. i worried you could see the strands about to burst through. i was worried that to be a girl- a woman- i must hide parts of myself every day. i must cover the shoots of grass, the weeds that reveal that i’m not fit for society, that whisper i’m wild and untamed.

it wasn’t actually until i was 18 at least that i actually started to consider myself latino. i had sometimes said ‘hispanic’ growing up, as that’s what my family in florida called themselves; they referred to themselves as “spanish”, which i found out was not quite true after compiling my family tree and discovering that those ancestors emigrated from havana. in their minds they were white: “descended from spanish royalty” (as if!!)… i had spent my youth constantly trying to claim solely whiteness, confused as to why everyone was asking me “are you mexican?” “are you jewish?” “are you middle eastern?” - even though inside i think i knew. i knew my family didn’t look like me. i resented my surname being changed to Lind when i was five, my stepdad’s name, in order to give me the same name as the rest of them. despite my apparent envy of swedes and norwegians i knew it wasn’t my name; i still stood out terribly. i glared at myself in the mirror every day, i never could move past how the kids at school said my eyes were the color of shit, that my hair looked like pubes, that i must have had a sex change without being told because that would explain the mustache, the aggression…

by the time i was fourteen i was entirely primed to accept an alternative explanation to what was “wrong” with me. my sexuality was becoming more and more apparent but before i could ever come out as lesbian or even bi, i had discovered what it meant to be trans. i was so immediately certain that this was the key, THIS was why everyone said i didn’t fit in, THIS was why my behavior wasn’t girly, THIS was why i wanted to date girls. it was 2011, still deep in the “brain sex” era of the trans community, and i was sure without a shadow of a doubt that i was physically female, mentally male. all that needed to be done was to “correct” my body and bring it in line with my brain. despite the fact that very few people knew what transition actually was back then, i genuinely assumed it would make sense to everyone else, too: they had told me i wasn’t ‘really’ a girl so many times i had no trouble believing it.

transition, of course, did not suddenly de-latinize me LOL. first i became a total Other, outside of both the minnesotan ethnic norms and the gender+sex norms; eventually, with hormones and surgery at a very young age, i was able to pass as a boy, but by the time i could grow actual full-on facial hair, i realized i was still the pan-latin american enigma to people around me. multiple times someone would call me “sanchez” as some sort of attempted insult or joke. police looked at me differently than they had before. shop owners followed me, accused me of shoplifting. and sometimes, the white girls i dated told me that i was way cooler than all the boring white boys they knew. one girl even called me “exotic” to my face. it was, apparently, a compliment.

when i was 21 i heard that my girlfriend had referred to me to others as “a POC who identifies as white”. it felt as though she didn’t even know me at all. i’d never claimed either of those things to her.

moving to the west coast (socal specifically, where being latino/a is not considered ‘abnormal’) illuminated a lot of the bizarre and unnatural racial expectations of my midwest upbringing; i think by this point i was beginning to realize what so many things from my childhood had meant. that they weren’t really saying i was a boy. they were saying we don’t like girls who look like you, and we’d rather not have you included in our category.

it took me another three years to fully reckon with this. by the time i decided to detransition i had a much better understanding of the circumstances of my life; conversations with close friends who are also latina and have walked similar paths to me, heard similar insults, similar “compliments”, opened my eyes to the fact that i was not alone. i no longer feel weird for thinking the race/ethnicity boxes on government forms are hopelessly reductive. i know who i am and who i am not.

(around this time, i happened upon some old pictures of my dad’s side of the family. beautiful and glamorous women: adela, my uncle’s mother, the piano player; melanie, my aunt, the wife, hostess, and addict; lauren and andrea, my cousins, the restauranteurs; stella, my dad’s mamma, the widow and matriarch. and on all their faces, thick dark eyebrows, and, yes, that ever-familiar peach fuzz. i swear it healed something in my soul. despite my lack of beauty and glamor, we are not so different after all.)

that’s not to say all things are easy now. i’ve spent three years living as a GNC woman and if that wasn’t enough to confirm most all of my hypotheses on people’s perceptions of me, i don’t know what is.

detrans spaces (like most trans spaces) are overwhelmingly white- or at least that’s who dominates conversation. i see SO much downplaying of the things that naturally hairy women go through societally. i see trans allies who purport to be “okay” with detransitioners, saying “what’s the big deal? if you took testosterone you can just go off it and get laser hair removal!! :)” as if laser isn’t expensive as hell, painful as hell, and also WAY more of a process for a woman with dark curly hair than it is for one with straight blonde hair lmfao!!! i see detrans women obsessed with removing all traces of hair from their bodies (even though most of them clearly don’t have a neverending five o’clock shadow like some of us do! my lower face has a constant blue-green disturbance under the surface which makes female spaces incredibly daunting) and insulting the rest of us for being ugly and hairy and making no effort to look like women or what the fuck ever. basically, a lot of people who claim to support us are just racists and essentialists and believe that sex is visual and not biological…🤨

anyway… i guess my main takeaways from all this are:

1. please stop acting like detransition is an entirely internal process and that it’s easy for all of us to be seen as our sex again (some of us like. actually transitioned and passed as the opposite sex), or that potential physical interventions aren’t incredibly invasive and difficult

2. stop assuming all transition and detransition journeys follow your own experience of lifelong whiteness and hairlessness

3. it is a distinct experience to be regularly de-gendered or denied your sex, PRIOR to ever thinking of yourself as literally trans. many trans/detrans people had this happen to us (we were once the vast majority of trans people). but many did not, and generally shock others when they begun breaking gender norms. i really think people from the second group often have trouble understanding that for the first group, changing gender expression is basically a bandaid over an abscess… we have lived entire lifetimes being denied our sex, being told our bodies are not “truly” ours, that there is someone else inside trying to break out. kicked out of the bathroom, the changing room, alienated from single-sex peer groups. transition just flips this experience and instead separates us from our preferred gender group, reinforcing the feeling that we have no place, anywhere.

race/ethnicity, being homosexual or bisexual, mental illness stigma, disability, and low economic class all play an additional role in this. stop perpetuating this and denying us our biological sex.

#this is a toooootal rant lmao sorry but its been on my mind for a while.#kind of a culmination of two posts ive been wanting to make #detrans #detransition #ok to reblog

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strawberrystepmom · 5 months

Text

senku x f!reader. reader has a background in agriculture. reader is referred to as princess in jest and the unpacking of the reason it upsets reader follows. reader and senku are both 25. post canon au where he and the other ishigami village settlers find a small settlement in california. robert is an oc created specifically for the au. wc 1.7k

divider thanks to @/cafekitsune as always

“You and Gen have a lot in common.”

Snorting at Senku’s words, you dab at the droplets of sweat on your hairline with the back of your gloved hand. He hasn’t been superbly helpful weeding the carrot patch but at least he has been decent company, the two of you working in parallel worlds and occasionally exchanging remarks about what you’re doing. This is generally how things just go when you’re together.

You won’t go so far as to say that you enjoy him, you barely know the man who stepped foot on shores not far from where you are now a little over a month ago, but it’s pleasant to have someone around who will listen to you ramble about whatever has been on your mind. You don’t judge him and he has never judged you, a silent mutual understanding that people will be people, the thread that ties the two of you together.

It doesn’t mean he isn’t observant, though, and he’s all too apt to share said observations with you.

“Why do you say that? Is it because we are both charming, hilarious, and beautiful?”

Senku chuckles while you wipe your free hand on your pants. Very glamorous, you think and laugh to yourself quietly. The sun hangs high enough in the sky you know it’s midday and you offer small waves to everyone who passes by you, smiling big enough people can see it even from a few feet away. You don’t have to do this but you go out of your way to do it, something that always strikes Senku as funny.

“Humble, too.” The scientist remarks and you look up at him, noticing he’s jotting notes away in a leatherbound notebook he swiped from the medical barn.

He has a makeshift ink pen, an invention of his own making, and he’s jotting down thoughts of how to improve the settlement. Watch towers, another well, perhaps mechanized farming equipment to keep you from having to do as much heavy lifting as you do.

“So you agree?” He chuckles again at your words and keeps scribbling, raising his brows. “You know I don’t point out the obvious, princess.”

The recent nickname makes you scoff but your cheeks warm. He heard the village doctor and navigator, two of your closest friends, call you the name in jest and he couldn’t possibly let it go considering what an apt descriptor it is.

“Don’t call me that, it’s bad enough that they do.” Sighing, you reposition your sunhat before leaning down to dig up another weed. “There’s nothing princess-y about me.”

Tossing a carrot down, you decide to rest a moment and sit down next to him in the yellowing grass. The weather is still moderate and pleasant but six weeks from now, it’s likely a small blanket of snow and frost will cover the world and your plants in the process so time is of the essence with the less hearty members of the settlement garden. You feel Senku looking at you but don’t entertain him by glancing back, situating yourself and stretching your legs out in front of you.

“No?” Senku shoots back and you groan, laying back in the grass and closing your eyes. He looks over you and shakes his head, placing the notebook on his thighs where his legs are crossed. “Let’s be honest with ourselves here. If this were thousands of years ago, you’d be in a big tower in a pretty dress waiting for some muscle-brained knight to come and slay a dragon for you.”

You want to be offended but you’re instead curious about what exactly makes him feel that way and how it relates to you and Gen at all.

“What do you mean? I can take care of myself and have managed to do it pretty well so far.”

Senku shakes his head. He can tell you aren’t offended thanks to the lightness in your tone and he appreciates that you don’t read between the lines considering there are none when he comes to him. He says what he means and you listen to it appreciatively.

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying you inspire that kind of action in people.” He shrugs. “Think about the stories I know you used to read. A princess never has to ask for devotion, she simply gets it.”

Raising a brow, he meets your eyes and glances further out in the distance where one of the villagers he brought with him, Ginro, slumps in the fields while pulling weeds. The blonde man keeps glancing in your direction and waving before tilting his face downward to make sure you notice that he’s doing what you asked him to.

“I’ve never seen Ginro work so hard,” the scientist sniffs and you laugh louder than intended, bringing your hand to cover your mouth to stifle the noise.

“Not very fair of you to start with the easy target, Ishigami.”

He snickers and looks across the settlement, seeing if he can spot any of the others he has brought with him that have been more than happy to assist with anything you ask them to. You flash a smile, flutter your lashes if you have to, and shit seems to get done. It’s how you did things before you were petrified too.

“I overheard Hyoga arguing with Robert about being the one to escort you on the next foraging expedition.”

Thinking about the white haired man you feel a little uncertain of yourself and you look away. You find him extremely handsome despite his evasive nature and the two of you have only had a handful of conversations but he’s surprisingly helpful when necessary, you simply go out of your way trying to avoid asking for his help because he makes you nervous. Robert, on the other hand, is an issue that has followed you even thousands of years into the future (pro tip: don’t get petrified and then depetrified near a man harassing you in a club) but he insists on being your personal security whenever he can.

You make a note to genuinely contemplate trying your luck by asking Hyoga personally to accompany you but for now, you turn your attention back to your spiky haired companion.

“No you didn’t. Besides, we haven’t even planned a trip before winter even though we need to make one.”

Senku purses his lips and continues to look around the lands surrounding him.

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Considering his question for a moment, you hum and tilt your head. He hasn’t lied to you but this specific instance feels like a stretch.

“So you heard Big Mouth Bobby mention me and now I’m a princess? Seems like that criteria is a little unfair.”

Senku shifts where he sits and stretches his legs out in front of him to match your position. You shade your eyes from the sun with your palm and look up at him to find he’s glancing over his shoulder at you, shaking his head.

“You seem to think I’m telling you that it’s a bad thing people like and want to be liked by you.”

Shrugging, you settle back against the grass and kick your feet gently. He watches your every move and you feel observed and viewed rather than enjoyed, something about him that always makes you squirm despite yourself.

“Maybe you’re right.”

Senku smiles.

“I’m always right.”

You laugh and shake your head, shutting your eyes to keep from being further intimidated by his weighted glance. If he has any other assessments he’s clearly going to keep them to himself so you press forward, sun warming your face while you speak.

“I don’t get how that relates to me and Gen being similar though. Is he a princess too?”

A chuckle from your companion. At least you can always make him laugh even if you know your other charms won’t work on him. Looks have no effect on Senku nor do fluttering lashes or cute, coy smiles - he judges people off of their character only and you admire the depth it takes for him to do so.

“Oh yeah, that.” He picks his notebook back up and begins scribbling again. “You’re both very persuasive and understand people better than they think.”

Giggling, you sigh contentedly and even Senku finds himself a little bit drawn to the sound. You are charming and sweet and funny and perhaps a bit too honest beneath the slightly self deprecating humor you use to keep people from knowing who you really are. Even Senku can acknowledge all of these things - they’re true, after all. Proven and quantifiable.

“Well, thank you. The power of people skills can never be underestimated in a world where half of the people you meet want to kill you and the other half probably want to kill themselves because we don’t have social media to numb their brains.”

Again with that too honest humor. The scientist shakes his head and scribbles down a doodle for the vision he has for the tower he’s going to build in the coming weeks, halfway between your fields and the little cabin you call home. It’s the perfect position to see the entire settlement and he assumes the only reason you don’t have one yet is that you’ve lacked the people to assist with making it.

He may not be a muscle-brained knight, saving you while you sit forlornly in a tower, but he can be the genius that builds the tower you’ll help create the future society all of you will someday live in from. It’s a far more noble cause if you ask him.

“Keep it up.” He adds simply and you shield your eyes from the sun again, opening them to meet his. You offer a thumbs up and a grin and he shakes his head.

“I am going to tell Gen you called him a princess, though.”

Senku scoffs and leans back, still glancing down at you.

“Well then you’d be lying and it isn’t good to lie, now is it?”

You sit up, ready to argue back and forth but you’re interrupted by Ginro calling your name from a distance and approaching you, three carrots in his fist. Senku rises to standing and reassuringly pats your shoulder with the hand not holding his notebook.

“Looks like your savior is on his way, princess.”

You sigh, shaking your head and waving the scientist goodbye when he parts, watching him leave before plastering on your best persuasive smile and greeting Ginro exuberantly.

#senku x reader #ishigami senku x reader #senku ishigami x reader #kendall writes

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