My Dream As A Writer Isn’t To Get Published And Make A Lot Of Money, It’s To Have A Fanbase Devoted

Hoh my god they are so wonderful and soft and heartachingly sweet together. Holding the hopes of a good end for these two clenched in my fist right now.

Also, the ambiguous confession-that-was-kinda-is-and-not-a-confession???? Perfect

a world alone

the killerverse masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of ares reader

word count: 6.6k

summary: set before luke’s quest. you and luke take a well deserved day off at the lake, and you talk about the future

content: happiness. me waxing poetic about luke castellan via killers inner monologue about him lol, talks of having kids

notes: title from a world alone by lorde. this is probably my favorite chapter lol i hope you enjoy as much as i did!

Luke’s hands burn hot where they rest on your shoulders. You wonder if they’re going to leave behind marks in the shape of his palms, like brands pressed onto your skin forever.

The slight breeze coasts past your arms, tickling the bare skin of your arms and legs. The sun beats hot on your backs, but the excitement outweighs whatever discomfort it could bring. You can hear the sounds of the lake already, and you can’t help but turn to Luke with an uncontrollable smile.

The two of you speed up, listening to the sounds of nature and the crunching of dirt and gravel beneath your feet. Luke has been planning this day for forever, and even though he’d be stuck with two weeks of extra dishwashing, he swears it’ll be more than worth it.

The Hermes campers would officially be under Chris’ rule for a day, and you and Luke were free to take a day off.

“How much do you bet your cabin will be on fire when we get back?” you can’t help but ask.

He laughs quietly by your left ear, and it sends chills down your spine. “I’m trying not to think about that.”

The trees begin to grow sparse as the lake comes into view, so Luke slips your backpack from his shoulders, swinging it and letting it smack into his calves. The moment his feet hit the dock, the bag falls to the ground with a metallic thunk, and you sigh out his name, annoyed.

“I slaved over those sandwiches, you know. I’m making you carry me back to camp if they're flattened.”

He smiles, guilty, his hands frozen over the main pocket of the bag. The towels he’d packed are already hanging halfway out of it, the mat you’d brought to lounge on tucked under his arm. He’s practically halfway in the water already. “Sorry, chef.”

“You can relax. The lake’s not going anywhere,” you tease. Your shoulders brush when you nudge him away from your bag to rifle through it yourself.

Even though you poke fun at him, you can’t help but feel the same way. It’s been too long since you and Luke have had any personal time that wasn’t surrounded by other demigods. Your break’s been long overdue.

Luke surveys the best spot for swimming while you scrutinize the wooden dock. The old thing is riddled with splinters and nails and wobbly pieces of wood, but you find a good spot just on the edge of the structure.

The second your mat is rolled out, you collapse right on top of it. It’s an old plastic thing that one of Luke’s brothers stole from who knows where. The dark blue material folds into the shape of a bag so it’s easy to lug around, but years of lakeside lounges have worn it down — the strap that makes it into an actual bag snapped off a while ago.

You have to shove your hand to the very bottom of your backpack to find Luke’s sunglasses, but you’re quick to throw them over your eyes as you lay back down. The sun hits your skin and seeps the tension straight from your body. You wish Apollo were here so you could thank him personally; if it was possible to sunbathe forever, you would.

The rays on your skin are perfect. The lake is perfect. Being here with your best friend is perfect.

Luke moves from his spot by the other side of the dock and steps in front of you, eclipsing the sun. You peer at him over the rims of his glasses, unable to see much of him with the way he’s standing against the light.

“You look comfortable,” he says, rocking back onto his heels.

You prod at his ankles that are parallel with your face. “I am. Now move over, you’re blocking the sun.”

Something hard drops onto the wood beside your head, and your eyes shift to the container by your side.

It’s Luke’s sticky tube of sunscreen. The cartoon sun printed onto the front of the plastic is enjoying himself, his own shades pasted above a smug grin.

Luke nudges it towards you. “Could you get my back?”

You’re about to complain. He knows how much you hate the greasy feeling the sunscreen leaves on your hands and on everything you touch afterwards, but he’s making you do it anyway. Your eyes trail back up to glare at him, and you make it through a single syllable before your complaint evaporates in the heat.

He’s still looking at you expectantly, and he nudges the bottle closer to you with the point of his sandals again.

He’s trying to rush you, but you don’t really care. You’re thinking.

Yeah.

Thinking.

You’ve known Luke through everything. The terrible twos, your fear of the dark at six, his obsession with Pokémon cards at eight, and both of your awkward, gangly, preteen years.

In your head, Luke’s still your best friend that’s trying to relearn how to use a sword after he’d hit a growth spurt at fourteen. Whoever the fuck is standing in front of you now is not him.

Sometime between when you’d first arrived and had gotten settled on the dock, Luke had stripped himself down to his swimming trunks, eager to get into the water. Sunscreen he hasn’t fully worked into his skin leaves a white cast down his chest and arms, and you have to blink to see if the shadows are playing tricks on your eyes.

Luke had always been strong. But fighting off monsters thirsty for demigod blood generally did not require having abs.

Fed up with your staring, he pushes you over on the mat and places the sunscreen into your hand himself. His biceps shift and grow taut as he leans over.

“Have you been lifting?” you say, instead of anything normal. The tube of sunscreen feels like a thousand pound weight in your hand.

“Oh.” Luke looks down at his arms, as if he hasn’t even thought about how different he looks. He flexes just to show you, and your eyes actually widen at the definition of his arms. You trace the pathways his veins make from his wrist all the way up, feeling like you’re seeing muscles for the first time ever. “Yeah. A little.”

“A little?” you repeat, before actually laughing. “Dude.” You prod at his stomach, and he swats you away, red creeping up his neck. “Back in the day, they could’ve used your chest as like, one of those old laundry washboards. Since when do you work out?”

For a second, his face falls. The light air that’s been sitting between you two feels tainted. Luke shifts his eyes from your face to a spot behind your head, and you realize you’ve been walking carelessly through a landmine.

“Just, since…” He goes quiet for another few seconds. “Since Michael’s quest.”

Luke’s voice twists in a way it only does when he talks about things revolving around his dad. Your heart sinks with the weight of guilt.

Months ago, Luke’s older brother Michael had received a quest from Hermes himself. Him and his quest group had emerged victorious, finishing the quest with tons of time to spare. The three of them were treated like royalty the second they’d stepped through the entrance to camp.

Luke had never outright told you, but you know he’d been jealous. His relationship with his dad has always been rocky, but you think he wants to prove himself, for one reason or another. The bulking and the additional training… All of it must be to show his dad he’s ready. For his own quest, or something else.

Comfort has never come easy to you. But it does when it comes to Luke. A lot of the time, he just wants to be reminded that you’re there for him, even if you’re just sitting in silence. Words don’t usually work when he’s upset about things like this, so you finally pop open the sunscreen to give your hands something to do. He turns around without a word.

There’s a spot of white on his back in the shape of a smeared handprint where he must’ve tried putting it on himself before realizing it was no use. As you apply some more properly, the sunscreen disappears under your fingers, and you don’t even think about how gross your hands will feel later. You put on more of the lotion, rubbing slow circles into the broad stretch of his shoulders and then the dips of his back.

It feels weird touching the expanse of his bare skin like this. You’ve felt the warmth of him countless times, but always through a shirt or a jacket or that one sweatshirt that’s now yours. Luke’s skin is so warm it makes you want to slump forward and let him hold you until sleep takes you away. Absent-mindedly, your hands reach out to trace over a spot on his shoulder blades that’s covered in freckles.

“Killer,” Luke says softly. He pinches the skin just above your knee and your hands stop moving. “You’re supposed to help me put sunscreen on, not give me a massage.”

“Oh.” You realize his back has been thoroughly covered two times over. “Sorry. I got distracted.”

“That’s okay. It’s your turn, though.”

You sigh, slumping back onto the mat. He turns around to face you again, the harsh lines of his frown already disappearing off his face.

“You need to invest in better sunscreen,” you say as he works to undo the buttons of your old Hawaiian tee. “This one makes me feel so gross.”

Luke doesn’t say anything about your complaining. He’s too busy looking perfectly sun kissed, a light dusting of red across his cheeks glowing against his tan. He motions for you to turn over, and you oblige.

You don’t mention how you haven’t even put sunscreen on the parts of your body you can reach, but he doesn’t bring it up, so neither do you.

You’ll give him this. He needs something to do that isn’t sitting and thinking about his dad, and you’re willing to let it slide even if it’s at the cost of feeling greasy and gross.

“You know what’s even worse than the sunscreen?” he asks.

“What?”

“Skin cancer.”

Luke’s already grinning when you tilt your head to glare at him. “What even possessed you to say that?”

He laughs, squeezing the bottle of sunscreen directly onto your back. You flinch at the coldness, but it’s quickly remedied with the warmth of Luke’s hands. He doesn’t let the sunscreen sit for a second before he’s working it into your skin. You can feel every single movement of his fingers and every shape he traces there.

The slowing of his hands when he lingers at the scar on your back nearly causes a full body reaction.

“Thought we weren’t giving each other massages,” you choke out, just so he stops dragging his nails over the raised skin.

He hums. “Your scars look really badass.”

(Luke does this a lot — says something offtopic in lieu of responding. He doesn’t mean to do it to ignore you, and you don’t take offense, especially if it's during quiet moments like these. When you sit in silence like this, his off topic thoughts tend to morph into compliments.)

You feel flushed all of a sudden. “Thanks, hero. But keep going, please. I can feel my skin withering away under the sun already.”

You can hear the smile in Luke’s voice when he says, “Told you.”

A bit higher up, closer to your spine, he presses a finger into your back twice, each prod an inch apart. And then, just below, he drags his finger in the shape of an arc. He leans back on his heels to look at it.

You push yourself off of the dock, trying to crane your neck around to look at your spine. “Did you just… draw a smiley face?”

“What?” his left hand pushes your face away while the other swipes quickly over your skin again. “No. Stop moving around.”

“So that wasn’t you trying to wipe away the evidence?”

He scoffs. “I’m not five years old.”

“Sure.”

He wipes away the last of his sunscreen art once and for all. As quick as he can, he smears more into your shoulder blades, and the back of your neck, and the tops of your shoulders.

Luke pauses for a second, and for a second you think he’s finally done. But you can feel his hands move out of the dip of your back and higher up, his touch feather light. His index finger ghosts over the band of your top, and he pinches the fabric between his fingers.

“Is it good if I lift this for a second?”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat of whatever’s blocking your windpipe. The fraction of space between you burns with heat. “You’re good.”

The split second he spends passing his hand over the skin there feels like it lasts an hour. A moment later, the fabric is snapping back into place, and he pats your back twice to let you know he’s done.

“Want me to get your arms for you?” he asks.

A weird wave of restlessness washes over you. You shove the cap back onto the sunscreen, your hands fumbling to toss it back into your bag with his sunglasses.

“We’ve been up here forever,” you groan, Luke’s impatience from earlier suddenly infectious. “I’m trying to spend at least some of our lake day in the actual lake.”

“Great.” Luke lifts himself to his feet and extends a hand.

The mat is warm under your feet when he helps you up. You can feel his hand squeeze yours a little too tight, and your stomach nearly drops when you realize he’s looking away from you, towards the water.

“Luke,” you warn, planting your feet and trying to resist the way he pulls you forward. “No.”

When he turns back to look at you, his eyes glint the same way it does when he’s waiting for one of his brothers to fall for one of his stupid pranks. And of course, he’s grinning at you the same way he does when someone doesn’t realize he’s nicked something straight out of their pocket. It’s the always mischievous face of a son of Hermes.

Ever innocent, he asks, “What’re you talkin’ about?”

You stumble when Luke uses his other hand to tug you closer. Dread spikes in your chest. He pulls you right into his chest at the edge of the dock, locking his arms around your waist.

You’re stuck. “The water’s cold, Luke, please—”

“You’ll warm up,” he promises, his voice sweet and low.

A second later, with his firm grasp around your middle, Luke tip both of you backwards off the dock.

The cold water jolts you out of the peaceful state you’d been in just a few seconds ago. The air is effectively shocked straight from your lungs, the water rushing past your ears and bubbles dancing across your vision. He releases you so both of you can resurface, and his laugh is the first thing you hear when you come up for air.

You make sure to splash him in the face the second you gain your bearings. “Asshole.”

The dark mess of curls on his head hangs over his eyes, heavy with water. He shakes it out like a dog, sending droplets straight at your face.

“Maybe if you didn’t always take fucking forever to get in, I wouldn’t have—”

You drop your tone and mock him accordingly. He splashes you again, grinning. The water has washed every remaining part of his frown away, the quest slipping from his mind.

This spot by the dock is shallow enough for both of you to just be able to stand. Sated with happiness, Luke lets his guard down enough to let you come closer and wrap your arms around his neck. You seize the opportunity to shove his head underwater, managing it for a few seconds before you feel his hands go under your arms.

You scream, your hands slipping off of his wet shoulders when you try to hold onto him. Armed with a steady grip, he tosses you straight over his shoulder and head first into the water.

His smile is what greets you when you resurface. He slicks your wet hair away from your eyes, laughing at the scowl on your face.

“I’m sorry, I swear,” he insists, pulling you closer. He’s using that stupid starry eyed look he always uses to get you to forgive him. “I’m done now, no more fighting.”

He puts both of his hands on your face, swiping away drops of water that track down your cheeks.

“Luke Castellan.” You sigh, leaning into his palm.

His eyes follow a droplet that runs down your neck. “Yeah?”

“I hope you can swim fast.”

When you catch him halfway down the lake, his laughter echoes throughout the clearing, joining the sound of the wind rushing through the trees and the choir of birds over your heads.

—

The sun has long moved from the high point of the sky when you decide to get out. Luke calls it a day when he can barely move his legs, thighs burning from swimming. You’d been clinging to his side for a while at that point, teeth chattering without the hot sun to warm the water.

Luke pushes himself up onto the dock and nudges his waterlogged hair out of his face. When he extends a hand to you, water runs down the slopes of his arms and drips down his fingertips.

He snaps his fingers in your face when you don’t reach for him. “The hypothermia get to your brain already?”

You grip his hand in yours, tugging him forward like you’re going to pull him back in. “Funny. I was actually deciding whether or not I should make you face plant.”

You dry yourselves off before Luke disappears into the woods for firewood — not without a comment about what happened the last time he let you go get it — and you set up your stuff on a soft tuft of grass as close to the water as you can get.

He reappears after a few minutes, his arms full with sticks that he drops at the foot of the mat. “There wasn’t much dry wood out there. Might only have enough for an hour or two.”

“That’s okay. It’s more wood than I ever managed to bring back by myself, anyway.”

Luke freezes from where he’s starting the fire, the flame of his lighter dancing in his cupped hands. He turns to see the shit-eating grin on your face. “That was a good one.”

“Thanks.”

Luke busies himself with the fire, letting the kindling catch while you take out the sandwiches you’d brought. Thankfully, only one of them is a little smushed from Luke’s reckless bag handling, but you set aside the nicer one for him anyway. You work your hands over the aluminum wrapping as you sit back.

“It’s been a while,” you say, just loud enough for your voice to carry over.

Luke tosses another piece of wood into the fire to feed the growing flames. “Since what?”

Since this. Everything’s the same. There’s the silhouette of Luke’s back, a shape you’d recognize even without the light of the sky. There’s the familiar warmth of the fire at your feet. And there’s that summertime buzz in the air — a sound you can’t place, but know like the sound of your own voice. It’s the sound of you and Luke’s nighttime lullaby from all those years ago. It’s been so long since you’d been out here alone together.

“Eating sandwiches by the fire. The woods. Us.”

He mumbles something that you can’t hear. Louder, he says, “At least the sandwiches are good this time around.”

You crack a smile. “That’s true. No more old peanut butter and crumbly bread.”

Luke had hated eating those things as a kid, but he’d toughed it out for you. The sandwiches reminded you of home. Even though the dry crust tasted nearly powdery in your mouth, you would close your eyes and imagine sitting under the tree in Luke’s backyard, eating a plate of sandwiches and drinking your mom’s lemonade.

You reach for the sweater at the bottom of your bag, tugging it over your top. When you pull out the blanket you’d brought, you’re surprised to see the bottom of the bag. You turn to face Luke.

“You didn’t bring a jacket?” you ask. He shakes his head no, calm and collected like he can barely feel the breeze that whips his hair around.

“You’re gonna get cold,” you chastise.

Satisfied with the fire, he finally settles down next to you. “It’s not even that bad out. You’re just cold-blooded.”

You hold the back of your hand against his neck, and he cringes away. Teasingly, you say, “You know what they say. Cold hands, warm heart.”

He tugs the blanket over both of your laps and opens his left arm for you to lean against him. You’d slept like this as kids, too, his left arm over your shoulder and his weapon of choice sitting in his right hand. You would switch when it was your turn to keep watch, the familiar weight of your knife in your dominant hand and Luke’s warmth coming from your other side.

But you’re at home now. You no longer have to sleep with the handle of your knife imprinted into your hand, and Luke is free to take your hands in his. He rubs his thumbs over your skin, his hands hot and soothing.

“If that saying’s true, my heart must be made of ice, then,” he says, no doubt feeling the warmth seeping back into your hands from the heat of his.

You smile, watching as he turns your palms over in his until they feel normal again. You probably would’ve turned into a demigod popsicle without Luke all those years ago, and the same is true. The mutual body heat was often the only source of warmth you’d have in the colder months.

Keeping each other alive is all you two seem to do.

After a few seconds, Luke tugs you back to lay on the mat with him. You turn further into him, soaking up every ounce of comfort he offers.

With your head tilted back, you can see the makings of stars in the sky, just beginning to fade into the blue with the sun setting. You’d have to ask someone to teach you the constellations visible this time of year.

Luke taps out a rhythm on your forearm, and then on your bicep, and then up to your shoulder. His hand finds its way into your hair, rubbing at your scalp before slipping down to the ends.

There’s a glowing form brighter than the rest just above the treeline. A planet, maybe. Or a star. You’d probably be able to remember if you weren’t so tired.

You can feel light tugs at the end of your hair — Luke, playing with the ends, twisting strands around his finger before letting it go.

“We’re gonna fall asleep,” you warn, but you’re much too comfortable to actually do something about it. His chest rises steadily at your side, the even movements drawing you closer and closer to sleep.

Luke’s eyes have taken on a faraway look to them, his hand still messing with the tips of your hair. While you stare skyward, he’s focused his eyes on the setting sun right ahead.

“Hey.” You link his restless hand with yours. “Can you start talking about something? I don’t want to fall asleep yet.”

He squeezes you twice. “You cut your hair.”

You wilt, your face already beginning to heat up. “Preferably anything but that.”

“Why?” he asks, turning to face you. His eyebrows knit in genuine confusion. “It looks great.”

“Not really.” Your own hand slips from his to pull at the ends self-consciously. “I love Junia, I do, but she cut it way too short. I can’t look at it.”

He tilts his head to look at you head on, a frown on his pretty face. He nudges a strand behind your ear, deep in thought, like he’s trying to look for something. “Don’t say that. It looks good. You just haven’t had it this short in a while.”

“I know, which is why I hate it,” you lament. “It’ll be a while until it grows back.” You’d been mourning the lost length all day, and thought Luke wouldn’t be able to notice the difference.

He flicks your forehead, eliciting an ow from you. “Always so stubborn. You look cute, killer.”

You let your hair that you’d worried between your fingers fall back into place. You squint at Luke for any sign of a pity compliment.

“You really think so?”

He seems to take offense at your doubt. “You really think I’d lie to you?”

It’s crazy how much weight Luke’s words hold in your mind. You know the next time you look in the mirror, you’ll rethink everything about the way you look.

When you settle back down without a word, Luke knows he’s won. He tugs at the fabric of your sweatshirt.

“You talk to your sister lately?” He asks, just to change the subject.

You look down at your sweater. Emblazoned across the front are letters that spell out UC San Diego.

“Kinda. She sent me and Clarisse a postcard and some merch from school. Clarisse refuses to wear the t-shirt she got, though.” Luke’s hand reaches out to trace over the embroidered letters. “Mel says she wants to visit soon. I can’t wait to see her.”

Mel was the Ares cabin counselor up until last summer, when she’d left for college on the other coast. You’ve missed her terribly, but you heard all about her life out there and knew she was having a great time.

“She’s almost done her sophomore year. I think she switched her major to nursing, or something,” you add on. “Kinda ironic, isn’t it? A daughter of Ares healing injuries instead of causing them.”

Luke smiles. “I can see it. Mel’s always been the nicest Ares kid I know.”

You huff. “Well, thanks.”

He pretends to think it over again for a few seconds. “Don’t worry. I’d say you’re tied with Clarisse for last.”

“Ha ha,” you drawl. “Fuck you.”

“Actually, you rank just above her, I think. She would definitely drown me if she found out she wasn’t at the bottom of the list.”

“Probably.”

Luke’s hand is still pressed to the letters on your sweatshirt, his eyes trained on the words there. Something begins to form in the back of your mind.

“Maybe we could take another trip,” you suggest. “Me and you. California.”

The amusement is written on his face. “As if Chiron would let us take another vacation. We barely got him to agree to the last one.”

“But he caved eventually!” you remind him. “And wasn’t it great?”

“I guess.”

“Oh, please. That was the most fun we’ve ever had, and you know it.”

(For your sixteenth birthday, you and Luke had managed to charm your way into letting Chiron and Mr. D set you loose in New York City. You’d been on your own for a day, spending your allowance of a whopping fifty dollars on two small meals at an even smaller restaurant. You had also managed to score sight-seeing tickets on a rickety boat that didn’t look safe to ride.

Luke had rubbed your back for you when you’d gotten seasick, and given you Dramamine he’d pilfered from the bag of a man a few rows ahead of you. You’d given each other an awkward look when the guy got sick over the side of the boat an hour later.

“Here, man,” Luke had said. He placed the foil of Dramamine tablets in his hand. “We have extra.”

The man nearly got down on the floor, thankful out of his mind. There were tears in his eyes when he said, “Thank you so much. I seem to have forgotten mine, and I get so terribly sick on boats.”

You and Luke were silent for the last ten minutes back to the dock.)

“We might have to wait a while to ask,” Luke says, giving in. “Chiron’s not gonna be too happy when he finds out we skipped out on everything today.”

“You’re like the camp golden child. I’m sure if you flashed your pretty smile at him, he’d give in.”

Luke turns away, smug.

The two of you settle into another bout of silence, thoughts of the sunny California beaches running through your minds. You can picture the both of you there already — a little older, a lot happier. Luke would probably take up surfing, because he’s that kinda guy. You’d have a Jeep, or something, driving to the beach with the top down to watch the sun setting over the water.

“We could always say we’re touring schools,” you offer. “We should probably be thinking about future colleges, anyway.”

Luke sits up abruptly, so you do too. When you see the look on his face, fear strikes in your chest. His eyes are shining with something unreadable, and it’s beginning to dawn on you that you and Luke haven’t discussed this before. You have no idea if he even wants to go to college, and you’re already roping him into your fantasy of school on the west coast.

“You want that?” he asks, quiet.

“I think so,” you say honestly. “I kinda just assumed we’d go somewhere together.”

Luke is silent, his face a complete mix of emotions that you can’t tell are good or bad.

It sounds beyond dramatic, but it feels like the rest of your life is riding on the rest of this conversation. There’s no future for you without Luke in it.

Your voice is quiet when you speak next. “Do you want that?”

You can’t imagine what would happen if Luke suggests something like the two of you splitting up, finding your own ways after camp. He’s in every plan you have, a permanent mark on the rest of your life.

Your attachment issues are serious. You’re barely able to imagine yourself as a person without Luke Castellan.

The way he smiles makes it feel like someone’s pumping air back into your lungs. It dispels every single doubt you’d ever had.

“Do I wanna go to college? Sure,” he says. The grin on his face lights up his eyes, gorgeous pools of dark brown. “But if you’re asking me if I want to be with you?”

Luke laughs in disbelief, like your question is the funniest thing in the world. The sound makes something in your chest constrict. “I hope you know it’s been a definite yes for the past decade.”

You don’t even realize how much you’re grinning until Luke leans forward to knock your forehead against his.

“Can I be honest with you?” you whisper, serious as ever.

The joy is written on your face, plain as day. It’s like you’ve ascended into the sky and merged into literal nature all at once. The wind rustles the taller grass blades behind you. A dove chirps over your heads.

Luke nods.

“Even if you decided you didn’t want to go to college, and just wanted to fuck off and live in the Canadian wilderness or something…”

You slide your arms around his neck just so you can hide your smile. You’re embarrassed out of your mind, knowing he can feel your grin against his skin. “I’d still go with you, honestly.”

A shocked laugh bursts from his throat. Luke’s arms link behind your lower back, and you fight the urge to do something stupid. “Fuck. Are you proposing, killer?”

You feel like you’ve been set on fire.

“I think we should go ask Chiron about plane tickets, like right now,” you say, no trace of a joke in your voice.

His chest rumbles against yours when he laughs. “Sure.”

The two of you stay like that for a few more minutes, and Luke only lets go of you to add the last remaining sticks into the fire. He sits back again, this time dragging you against his chest. He slumps onto your back, resting his chin on your shoulder.

It’s weird, knowing for a fact that you’re going to spend the rest of forever with your best friend.

“Do you ever think about, like, the other parts of the future?” you press, your curiosity getting the best of you.

His shoulders lift against your back in what you think is a shrug. “Like what? Up until now, I had no idea I even wanted to go to college.”

Of course.

“Like anything after college. Where you wanna live. If you want kids.”

Luke’s taken to rubbing the skin of your thigh through the blanket over both your laps. “I have, actually.”

His answer surprises you. He’s thought about stuff like that, which is a million years from now, but not college? Something that could very much happen in the next few years?

“Care to share?” you push. “I haven’t really thought about it yet.”

Luke hums, and you can tell he’s thinking everything over. You watch the fire dance in the pit while you wait for him to speak.

“I’ve always wanted to live by the water,” Luke admits. “I liked that about where we grew up.”

His voice takes on a quiet tone, always awkward whenever he mentions Connecticut. You’d lived in the suburbs about ten minutes from the coast, and so many of your summers and few weekends were spent down by the water.

“I think that’s why California sounds good to me,” Luke continues. “It’s not New England, and it’s different in a good way.”

You would love to go back to your mom’s house — see the place that shaped you and Luke into people. But you know he could never consider it. Westport haunts him even now, his own personal ghost.

“And I want a big house,” he continues. “With one kid. A boy or a girl, I don’t really care.”

“Luke Castellan, girl dad,” you tease, everything about it sounding fond.

In a few years, the same boy who used to chase you through his backyard with worms in his hands will be an adult. Your best friend, pressed against you right now, could one day be a dad.

“Maybe,” he answers. He squeezes your knee two times, and it keeps you from drifting off into your thoughts.

“I don’t know if the world could handle a Luke Castellan Jr. running around. You were a crazy kid.”

Luke pinches you in offense. “Big talk coming from you, killer.”

He draws out the syllables in the old nickname to drive his point across. The joke had come from somewhere, of course.

“It wasn’t like you were the angel between the two of us,” he adds.

You smile because you know he’s right. You’d been a handful for your mom, always causing some sort of trouble in one way or another. And Luke had been right there with you, every step of the way.

Beyond college, you don’t know what you want for yourself. You just know that you’re going to have Luke, no matter what happens.

You think of the two of you a few years from now with your college diplomas and your families in the audience. Years of laughter and sunscreen and your big house on the California beach. And then the two of you, old and tired but with a lifetime of stories to tell.

You sink further into the cradle of his arms. “I just can’t wait, Luke. For all of it.”

Straight ahead, the last of the light from the sun gets consumed by the darkness of the night. You and Luke lay there, alone under the stars.

He mumbles his answer into the quiet of the sky. “Me too.”

The fire goes out sometime later.

—

Luke dreams of you that night.

You’re about sixteen years younger, but it still looks just like you.

You’re both sitting on the beach, though it doesn’t quite look like the one from your childhood.

The water is so blue and the sand is so fine and white and Luke knows he’s never been here before. When he turns around, he can see nothing else but more sand behind him, an eternal beach his mind has drawn for him. In front of him is a stretch of water that goes as far as his eye can comprehend. And to his left is you.

He knows it has to be you the moment he sets his eyes on the back of your head, the same messy hair of his youth.

It’s the same kid he sat with on the back steps of his porch, hands sticky with melted popsicles. The same kid he’d watch late night cartoons with on his couch, asleep with a half eaten bowl of ice cream on the floor.

You turn to face him, and Luke knows if he had full control over his body, his face would’ve split into a grin.

You’re just a baby.

You’re so tiny that even the version of him in his dream reaches out for you. It seems that Dream You is still a baby, but Dream Luke isn’t.

There’s a ridiculous sunhat on your head, the kind his mom would make him wear as a kid. It’s in your favorite color, and when you toddle closer, he sees you smile with all three of your baby teeth.

There’s a few things different about you that don't feel familiar to him. Something about the curve of your nose is off, and your hair looks curly in the way that his is. There’s a look in your eye that reminds him a lot of one of his younger brothers, the makings of a mischievous smile new on your face. You waddle right into his arms, and he lets you clamber onto his left thigh. When you throw your tiny arms around his neck, he realizes you smell like his sunscreen and salt water.

You pat his face, your eyes wide and glittering. He wipes a bit of drool away from the corner of your mouth, and you jump a little.

“Mama,” you babble, since it’s probably the only world you know.

He thinks of your mother, all the way back in Connecticut. He thinks of her big smile and warm hands and her freshly squeezed lemonade and her empty house.

She was like a second mother to him. He thinks of how she likely saw this same thing — this tiny version of you, unable to talk and lacking motor skills.

“Mama,” you say again, insistent. You pat his face again, like you’re trying to get him to understand. But Dream Luke can’t do anything but hold you, it seems. So he does.

There’s a shift, and you notice it too. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he feels movement behind him. Luke knows he should feel on edge, but his body physically refuses to. Baby Killer goes crazy, blabbering excitedly as familiar arms go around his shoulders.

Luke recognizes the feeling immediately. They’re the same arms that he feels curled around him when he wakes up from his dream.

my commentary on the ending

the killerverse masterlist

notes: and somehow they still aren’t together… idk. this was definitely my favorite chapter to write so please oh please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! it means sooo so much.

tags in the rbs!

Some toy pokemon doodles I worked on a while ago (including the rough draft of my slinky shinx I uploaded earlier this year)

[Image description: 10 stills from the anime "Natsume's Book of Friends" featuring the character Natori Shuuichi with tumblr text posts edited in.

Image 1: Natori is waving and smiling in front of a background of sparkles and roses. The text post is by tumblr user YandereChild-Archive and reads "me, introducing myself: it is i, your local asshole"

Image 2: Natori, Hiiragi, Natsume, and Nyanko-sensei are standing in the wreckage of Natori's spare room after an exorcism. Text post by RoseCrystal reads "should i get my life together or should i just keep being sexy and chaotic"

Image 3: Close-up of Natori's smirking face in profile. Text post by ShirleyTemplar-Blog reads "I may seem like an asshole / but deep down I'm a good person / and even deeper down I'm a bigger asshole"

Image 4: At an udon restaurant, Natori is asking the server if she's seen or heard of anything weird in the area lately. He's posed casually with his chin resting in his hand and has sparkles around him. Text post by ManyWinged reads "*walks into an antique store* i'd like to see your most evil items, please"

Image 5: After a sleepless night, Natori is smiling and posing with sparkles surrounding him. Natsume, sensei, and Hiiragi look on, unimpressed. Text post by jumex reads "Making myself hotter. To cope"

Image 6: Natori is smiling at Natsume, his hand on Natsume's shoulder. Text post by avantegarda reads "I may be an absolute disaster of an adult but when someone younger than me asks for advice I turn into a Wise Professor"

Image 7: Teenage Natori is sitting in his family's storeroom at night, reading. Text post by FuckOffStraightPeople-Blog reads "occupation: the family disappointment"

Image 8: Teenage Natori glares at an offscreen Matoba. Text post reads "when people explain things to me i see red. if i wanted to understand iw ould have understood. leave me alone ."

Image 9: Wearing a bucket hat in an attempt to go incognito, Natori leans against a huge advertisement for his album "Unloved", half of which is a photo of his face. Text post by BPDSuperBoy reads "the lengths i would go to to both get attention and avoid it...astounding"

Image 10: On a poster for one of his movies, a sultry Natori smirks at the viewer, his hand poised to comb through his hair. The lizard youkai is visible on his cheek. Text post by semiotextiana reads "im so sexy and fun and fucking doomed"

/end ID]

BONUS: live teen reaction!

[ID: Watched by a crowd of people, an embarrassed Natsume pushes Natori in front of him. Natori looks serene and is surrounded by a purple cloud of sparkles. Text post by LauraMercierBodyScrub reads "cause of death: second hand embarrassment" /end ID]

sorry for being obsessed with this three-alter-egos-in-a-trenchcoat 20-something big bother figure disaster-ass man. as if it's my fault 🙄

natsuyuu characters as text posts 1/?

im actually going to just look at him forever if thats okay

Initiation

Part of "The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces" series

The Heart Pirates were overwhelming. So loud and chaotic that you didn’t know how you’d ever fit in with them. But you didn’t have any need to worry.

Takes place near the beginning of reader's journey with the crew.

Though you had joined (more like forced yourself into) the Heart Pirates in a blaze of chaos and explosions (quite literally), that courage didn’t stay in the aftermath of everything. When it was all said and done, and you’d stitched in a place on the Polar Tang as their tentative tailor, all the fight and bravery went down the drain.

Though you couldn’t say that you thrived on talking to others, you boasted fair enough people skills (which was more than could be said for their—your captain). Just enough for you to be known as a cordial and affable person. But with your history, growing up as you did, you had to say that your inclinations leaned more to that of reservedness.

The same could not be said for this new group of people you found yourself with.

They were loud, you already knew that from your initial introduction to them. But now, in close quarters and a confined space, the noise absolutely echoed. The sense of camaraderie was strong with them, inside jokes and banter flowing like water between them all. They would often include you in it too.

“Hey, Newbie!”

You froze as Ikkaku honed in on you, a touch of wildness in her eyes as she sped to you, dragging Clione along with her.

“Oi, don’t involve other people in with this!” the hooded blonde complained, but he still cornered you alongside the tall woman.

“We need you to settle this for us!” Ikkaku declared, crossing her arms. “Clione thinks that white lights are the best interior lights. But obviously, warmer lights are better than cool ones, yeah? You agree, right?”

“No???! Don’t influence the Newbie!”

“Shut up, you’re just angry because I’m right!”

“Uhm,” you began warily. “I think white lights are good if you want to maintain alertness, but warmer-toned lights are good for relaxation. Depending on what you need, one cn be better for your eyes than the other.”

Both stared at you blankly.

“Yeah, but which one is better?” Ikkaku prompted.

“I… They all have their…uses…”

Both members threw their hands up in twin displays of frustration. “That doesn’t help at all!”

They devolved back into their squabble, and you took a step away.

Two heads snapped at you. “Stay here!”

Your shoulders sunk down as you glanced furtively down the hall to see if anybody was coming. It seems like you’ll be stuck with them for a bit.

But not only did they pull you into the most mundane of conversations, but they were also touchy.

Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi were guilty of being particularly forward, the three having no qualms being in everyone’s space. While Bepo’s was well-intentioned—the Mink trying his best not to overstep his boundaries aside from when he’d scoop someone up in a hug—Penguin and Shachi had no qualms about holding back. Crewmates were often the victim of one or both of them leaning on them at once, on either side. The first time they did that, you nearly jumped a foot in the air, if not for their weight on you. 

The bolts of fabrics you were carrying thumped to the ground as you were jostled by twin pairs of arms, pushing you down. “Ah!”

“Whatcha got there, Newbie?” Penguin asked.

“New fabrics for the boiler suits,” you replied, wiggling out of their hold to hurriedly pick up the nearest roll, inspecting them for any stains. You would’ve snapped at the pair for making you drop them, but you were too busy fretting, and did not want to piss off the unofficial-official first mates of the captain. “I–Uh, C-Captain approved of this particular type. It’s more suitable to the conditions of the Tang than your suits now.”

“Oh shit, really?” Shachi crouched down right next to you, his side pressed up against your own as he grabbed the bolt of fabric you were holding while Penguin began gathering the other rolls.

The taller man tried to pick up all up, but let out a curse as their weight bore down on him. “Holy crap—”

You wobbled as his heat burned into your side, a hand reaching out to steady him as you took a few off to lighten the load.

“How the hell were you carrying so many with your stature?!?” Penguin ask incredulously, tugging his hat back in place.

“I’m used to it,” you said simply, reaching for the rest in his hold. However, a hand fisted the back of your current suit’s collar and hauled you up. “Ack–!”

“No need!” Shachi announced, wrapping his arm back around your shoulders. “Big Bro Peng and I will help you carry them!”

“Are you sure this is not you two trying to worm out of the Captain’s duties again…?” You asked.

“No way!”

“That’s silly!”

(They were, in fact, trying to dodge responsibilities.)

Though, despite their welcoming air, you couldn’t help but linger at the edges of everything. Too afraid to integrate yourself into their folds. Yes, you may have been brought on as their tailor—a position sorely needed as the most experienced person before you were the poor cook who at most knew how to do basic stitching—but you were still Newbie, first and foremost. Still clumsy when taking up the shared duties and occasionally getting lost in the halls. Your position here was strenuous at best, and you feared that there would be whatever reason that made them drop you off at the next island they docked at.

You peeked your head into the mess hall, wondering what was important enough that you were summoned there after your watch duties 

Shousai was the first to see you, the large, bald man waving a gloved hand at you. “Oi, Newbie, there you are!”

That sent an excited titter over the crew.

“Newbie’s here!”

“About time!”

“What took you so long?”

You took a tentative step into the room, but remained near the doors, wringing your hands. They had called you over the intercoms in the middle of you reworking he boiler suits, so it made you anxious to resume working.  “What’s… happening…?”

“Since, you’ve been doing a stellar job aboard the Polar Tang,” Bepo announced. “It’s about time that you get initiated into the group pose!”

“Group pose?”

The Mink nodded, completely serious. “Yes! We Heart Pirates take pride in our crew, so it’s imperative that we are ready to show that pride whenever Captain introduces us!”

Slowly shuffling backward, you asked, “Do I have to do it?”

“Yeah!” Clione yelled. “We all have to do it! You’re part of the crew, now. You can’t get out of this, Newbie!”

Hands grabbed your shoulders, and you looked back, expression full of betrayal as you found Uni to be the one pushing you to the group. The stoic man’s expression gave nothing away, except for the slightest pinch in the corners of his eyes that indicated amusement.

More hands grabbed at your arms when you were in range, Uni leaving to assume his position once he ensured that Shachi’s hold on you rendered escape impossible. You were shuffled from person to person, but for once, their touches didn’t make you tense nor freeze the way touches used to. They had, without you realizing, wormed their way through your guards as much as you’ve settled into their rank. In their endearingly Heart Pirates way.

Weak. Would have been what he called them. Called you. But those were just the whispers of the dead.

Shosai muttered your name as you were slotted right next to him. “You have to convince Risso to make something other than broiled rice cakes and peas and fish for dinner.”

“He says we have to try and conserve our supplies,” you protested quietly as Omura’s elbow dug into your shoulder.

“Yes, but we all know there are much better combinations than fish and peas.”

Scanning the group for the yellow newsboy hat and braids of the cook, you asked, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“He likes you more!”

Bepo turned to give the both of you a chastising look as Shachi shushed you two. The Mink waited until the redhead ran through the positioning of your arms and legs. “Okay, Newbie! We’re going to do it now. Do you have the pose memorized?”

“Yes,” you said sulkily, resigned to your fate.

“Okay, Heart Pirates! Three, two, one!”

The crew burst into a clamoring of noise and limbs, you following suit with a heaping dose of embarrassment.

Your face burned  even hotter as, right after, the captain walked into the room. Law didn’t even blink as he saw the group of you in the mess hall, mug of coffee in his hands as he sipped on it. The crew held that pose, as if waiting for his approval.

He looked at you all with a sharp eye, amusement shining through as he cocked his head. “I think you should move Newbie-ya more to the left.”

“COME ON, CAPTAIN!”

Your face quivered as you fought a smile. Surrounded on all sides by lively figures, you undeniably felt warm.

Eventually, the nickname fell away, to be replaced with your own name or “Tailor”. Years later, as you and your nakama—a little bruised, and battered, but now twenty strong—assembled into that ridiculous group pose to greet Straw Hat, Shosai lifting you up onto his shoulders so you could throw your arms up and out into a victorious ‘V’, Jean Bart’s steady presence behind you, you couldn’t feel a greater sense of belonging.

Parts of a Whole

Ok I regret starting a new writing blog during what's probably one of the busiest periods of my life but yolo

Adashino x reader x Ginko (Platonic/romantic friendly)

For as close as you are to someone, sometimes there are some minor hiccups.

If someone were to ask you, you would say that Adashino was the day and Ginko was the night.

Someone less familiar with hem would look at their physical features and say otherwise, but you knew differently.

Adashino was the ever-reliable sun, a constant never wavering and never changing. His medicine may have felt too warm at times, but it burned off the sick. Ginko was the soothing balm of the moonlight’s hand caressing your cheek. Sometimes his medicine nipped at you with a biting cold, but it chased away the crawling maladies and kept them away.

Either way, you don’t think you would have been the same without them by your side. Conversely to the laws of nature, your world revolved around them, even though they might not know it. Kitsunes were known to be solitary Yokais, but to them, family was one of the most important things. That was a trait that you shared in both of your bloodlines, the trait that your parents imparted to you before their passing. And Adashino and Ginko were your family, even though you never told them so. And that put them on a pedestal far above anybody else.

(There wasn’t anybody else, but you were terrified to admit it, terrified of the implications of that.)

That’s why you let them get away with too much, sometimes.

Like smoking cigarettes that were mildly toxic to you. Mildly. Supposedly.

But based on the wracking coughs hitting you now, and the arrays of other symptoms, whatever the seller put into this new blend was a little more than mildly toxic.

“Ginko,” you managed through your growing headache, suppressing a dry heave. “Put that thing out right now or–hrk–you’re going to be cleaning up my sick from all over our sleeping spot.”

“Hm?” Ginko’s half-lidded gaze locked onto your sweaty face and his eyes widened, immediately leaning forward to stub out his smoke in the tray. “Oh.”

Adashino stepped into the room at that moment, arms full of bedding. He took a moment to sniff the air. “I know that smell anywhere. Why is it worse than usual??”

His voice sent a pulse of pain through your head and you wince, exhaling slowly as a wheeze rattled your chest.

Your white-haired friend silently draped a rag over the ashtray, stifling the smoldering embers despite the smoke already in the air. “I tried this new tobacco blend.”

“I-It’s bad.” You tried to get to your feet, only managing to get to your knees before the nausea stopped you.

Adashino gave a long-suffering sigh. “Oh for goodness’s sake, I thought I told you–Wait there.”

He stepped back out of sight for a few moments and then returned, arms empty of the bedding, presumably to keep the smoke from seeping into it. Raking a hand through his hair, he kneeled down to help you to your feet as you struggled to take a full breath. 

Ginko was as apologetic as you’ve ever seen him, hand reaching out to you before he caught himself and pulled back. Already, you could see him withdrawing from you, pulling away from everyone and preparing to flee.  “I didn’t realize how much more potent this new blend was. If I knew I wouldn’t have used it.”

No…

“I told you to stop testing them out inside and before bed,” Adashino grumbled, sharper than intended as he focused on trying to get you to your feet without throwing up dinner.

Please don’t fight…

“Stop it,” you mumbled. 

Adashino realized that the other man was closing himself up and quickly acted to amend things before he could physically run away. “Ginko stay there, I’ll be right back.”

With his help, you managed to hobble your way outside to the cool night air without making a mess all over Adashino’s wooden floors. The man gingerly sat you down on the engawa and–after a moment of double-checking–moved back inside. There was a dull mutter in the background as you focused on taking deep breaths, closing your eyes to try to ease the headache. Now in the open, the clear air did wonders for your symptoms, lungs able to work fully without the smoke wrapping around them. The sliding door was left open but thankfully you were settled far enough to be unaffected as the room aired out. 

It was no sooner that your symptoms subsded when Adashino reappeared. He offered an arm that you eagerly latched onto, still a bit shaky. His presence brought back the warmth into your body that you didn’t realize had seeped out of you body.

“Futon’s ready,” he said airily. “I forced Ginko to beat the smoke out of the sheets, change his clothes, and get new sheets. The room’s been aired too.”

“Did you two make up?” You asked hoarsely.

The man paused, taking off his monocle to wipe it down. “Yeah. I didn’t mean to be so harsh with him. We talked it out though. Safe to say there will be no more smoking inside the house. And all the sheets were changed.”

True to Adashino’s earlier words, three new futons were rolled out in the middle of the floor, pushed closer to the doors than where they usually were. Thanks to the fact that the three of you were spreading out over the large front room of him adobe, there was plenty of space to go around instead of the bedrooms. You gratefully plopped into the nearest one and pulled the blanket up into your lap while Adashino went to move the lit lantern away.

(You don’t know when it started being a regular thing, the three of your piling together in Adashino’s large greeting room, waking up in the morning to find one person or another sprawled all over the place. But what you did know that you slept easier with them by your side when you were here.)

As Ginko stepped back into the room in a pair of Adashino’s sleep clothes instead of his, the fringes of his bangs weightened down by water and dripping onto the clothes. He paused upon seeing you and Adashino, remaining right by the doorway.

Adashino was the first to speak. “Ginko you’re back–why is your hair wet?”

“I washed myself.”

You frowned. “But I thought we used up all the heated water?”

“We did. I just used our regular water.”

You could hear Adashino’s patience getting ready to snap. “I-It’s cold! You might get sick!”

“If I have to end up taking care of the both of you for being ill, I will break out the most bitter blend I have to treat you,” the doctor grumbled, putting out the lantern and walking over to drag Ginko to the futons by the collar of the man’s borrowed shirt.

You yawned placidly and shuffled over as Ginko settled into the futon next to yours. “Are you feeling better now?” The man murmured.

“Yep,” you replied, easing back on your back as your friend was too. “Thankfully, my symptoms cleared up pretty quickly after the smoke got cleared out.”

Adashino pulled the sliding doors closed, shutting out the moonlight. In the darkness, your sharp eyes saw him gingerly picking his way over to the last futon on your other side. You closed your eyes, fox ears flicking as you heard him get into bed and lie down.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Ginko murmured.

“I know,” you replied. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I won’t smoke inside again.”

“I know,” Adashino said. “There are no hard feelings. Go to sleep you two,”

You burrowed deeper into your sheets, banked on either side by the safety of the two you knew best. A final yawn left you as sleepiness finally seeped back in to your body.

“Good night you two,” you mumbled.

“Good night.”

“Night.”

A sleepy smile stretched over your lips and it remained there as rest finally claimed you. Yes, Adashino was your day and Ginko your night, and life wouldn’t be whole without them by your side.

Pickled Plums

Adashino x reader x Ginko (can be read as platonic or romantic)

You loved the noise of cicadas in the ripe summer air.

Gravel crunched beneath your sandals as dappled sunlight filtered down from the canopy of green. It was the apex of summer and the forest was ripe and heavy with life and heat. From your peripherals, you could see the glowing forms of the familiar mushi dancing through the air. They were the same types that often frequented the village, a sure sign that your journey was coming to an end. You wondered if Ginko had yet to see them from wherever he was behind you.

The satchel sitting on your hip alongside the pack on your back was a reminder of the gifts wrapped lovingly in twine and leaves. Gifts for Adashino and Ginko both, picked specifically with them in mind as well as the food carefully preserved by a bit of yokai magic and plenty of salt. The thought of rice and Adashino’s pickled radish made you drool, and you had no doubts that Ginko’s endless stomach would appreciate some food as well.

 Cries of seabirds and waves crashing against the shore slowly began to replace cicadas as the forest opened up to show a fishing village in the distance. Your speed picked up, eagerly scattering pebbles at the sight of the clay-shingle roofs. As you passed through the dirt streets, villagers caught sight of you and an excited wind began to catch the sleepy adobes.

Calls of your name began to echo through the air as those living there went out to greet you.

“It’s you!”

“Welcome back!”

“Oho going to see the doctor aren’t we?”

The last one was met with a delighted laugh, your eyes twinkling with mirth at the old man. “Of course! Is he home right now?”

“He should be!” Another woman called, her child waving at you from behind her. “He just finished treating Aoi’s son a little bit ago.”

“Thank you,” you called back gratefully. Turning around to the villagers, you put a finger to your lips and winked. “I think Ginko is arriving soon, don’t tell any of them that I’m here, alright?”

“Cheeky!”

“We won’t,” The old man chuckled. “Good to know all three of you are back in town for a while. We were beginning to wonder when we’d see you two wanderers again.”

You shrugged as your eyes caught sight of a minuscule movement from the alleyway.

“We can never stay for long,” you said. “But we’ll always come back, of course. If you don't mind…” Your head tilted towards the alleyway, indicating your wish to leave.

“Of course!” He guffawed, stepping aside. 

“Here, here!” A man said, shoving an earthenware jar into your arms. “For you all. A thank you to the doctor for treating my little Tsumiki last month.”

“O-Oh thank you so much.” You bowed your head, clutching the clay pot in your arms. “I'll be on my way then.”

“Eager huh? I know how it was when I was your age. Ah, younguns…Always have one place or another to be.”

You brushed past them with a smile and a parting promise. “I’ll come back down to visit later.”

“You better!”

“We’ll be waiting, young lady.”

You threw back a wave, attention focused on the alleyway where you saw it. Stepping into the shade, you stopped to listen for the quiet noise of something moving. Your sharp ears finally picked up something.

There. To your left.

“Here you are, little one,” you murmured crouching down and setting the jar down next to you with a soft ‘thump’. Reaching forward, you cupped the spirit in your palms. There was an offended squeak and the flower yokai opened a bulbous, yellow eye in the middle of its petals. Upon seeing your face, its petals snapped back close with a quiver and another squeak. A nature yokai then.

“Sssh, it’s okay,” you soothed, stroking a finger down its body. It was smooth and lumpy, like one of those sea anemones Ginko showed you on the coast that you both went to once. After a moment, the petals crept back open and the yokai peeked back out, its big watery eye staring back at you. 

You gave it a soft smile and it quivered before wiggling back and forth before unfurling completely.

“There you are…You shouldn’t be here,” you told it. “It’s not safe for you to be here. Come with me and I’ll bring you somewhere safer, alright?”

You put the yokai on your shoulder, where it snuggled into the shoulder of your traveling yukata. You smiled and picked up the jar before setting off again for Adashino’s house at the other edge of the village. There would be nature there, where it could thrive and survive better than the streets of mankind. Yokais like these ones never survived for long in human settlements, dependent on green life to draw their energy source. Without it, they would wither and fade away. You were glad that you came across it when you did.

Slowly, the slope of the road increased as you reached the edge of the village. Yet your speed picked up all the same. Home was so close, you could almost taste it, that house upon the hill with its shelves of artifacts and rosewood-scented halls. 

Brown shingles peeked over the crest of the hill and you grinned, shifting the jar to one arm and placing your free one on the bag at your hip.

“Hang on,” you told the yokai on your shoulder.

An affirmative squeak was given and you broke into a full sprint over the ground, kicking up dust behind your sandals. At the new pace, it took no more than a few minutes to finally reach Adashino’s house. A jump cleared the stones at the foot of his house and you clattered onto the engawa, kicking your sandals off noisily.

“Adashino!!!!!” You yelled, letting your voice echo through the halls.

There was a clatter and someone yelping before Adashino stumbled out from an adjoining hallway, fixing his monocle. “Huh?”

He squinted at you, vision adjusting to the stark sunlight after being inside for so long. After a moment, his eyes widened as it clicked. He said your name sharply.

“You’re back!”

You nodded, shifting the earthenware jar to both your arms and showing it to him as well as the satchel to your side. “And I brought gifts too!”

Adashino tilted his head and moved forward, reaching out to take the vase away from you. “What's all this?” 

Shrugging, you relinquished it to the dark-haired man’s grasp. “Haven’t looked yet. Tsumiki’s father gave it to me just earlier as thanks for you treating her.”

He hummed, lifting the lid and you stuck your head over the opening to peer into it with him. Seeing the sight of green in pickling sauce made you gasp.

“Kyurizuke!”

“Ah… It is cucumber season, after all.”

“This could go really well with some of the stuff you have, Adashino!” You turned to him excitedly. “We should make some food! I also brought back some things too! Ginko should be arriving at the end of the day so maybe we can all eat together.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just a ploy to get into my cabbage stock?” The doctor asked you, raising one eyebrow. He startled as he made eye contact with the yokai on your shoulder, jolting back. “Ah–”

“Oh right!” You chirped. “I saw this yokai on the streets heading here. I’m going to release it near the treeline so it can go back to the forest.”

Adashino sighed, stepping aside and flapping a hand towards the back entrance of the home. “Go on do that then. Leave your bags here. I can get started on lunch.”

You grinned gratefully, carefully singing the bags of your shoulders. “Sounds good!”

“Oh, and stop bringing strays back to my house! I keep on having to redirect them away when you’re not here.”

You laughed and departed for the clearing, bare feet slapping against the warm ground, humming a jaunty tune. The yokai on your shoulder swayed along to your movement as you stepped into the shadows of the trees and kneeled down at the base of one. Your hands came up to move the spirit off your shoulders and it was brought to the front of your face.

It chirped and you smiled, letting out an animal-like coo in return. “Be safe, alright? Don’t wander into the human settlements like today, it’s not good for you.”

Your hand lowered and allowed the yokai to hop off, stubby limbs wiggling happily and it hopped into the underbrush. Just before it completely ducked under the leaves, it turned around to wave at you. You waved back and with a final cry, it turned around and vanished into greenery like it was never there. A moment passed as you stared at that spot with a bittersweet smile. Your job was done, fulfilling your duty as the bridge between yokai and humans once more. Like the others, you would never see it again, but there was solace in the knowledge that it was able to live its existence. With that, you quietly got to your feet and padded away.

***

“Come here help me get all of this onto the tray,” Adashino instructed, jerking his head to the various bowls as he picked up his own wooden board. “You wanted to have all these side dishes so you’re carrying them all. Come on, we’ll set stuff out on the engawa in the front.”

You hefted the plate up in one hand, pilling the dishes onto it easily. “On it.”

Adashino gawked and grumbled as you swept past him easily.

The pair of you made a few more trips before settling down at the edge of the doorway, midway between the engawa and the house. Adashino tugged the rag under the miso soup, moving the whole pot into the middle between you two and you rearranged the rest of the pickle bowls around that, the rice, and the cooked fish.

“Ah, hold on…” You said, leaning over to grab your satchel. You flipped the woven lid up and reached in to withdraw several wrapped packages and set them alongside the food. “I got us some stuff from one of the towns I was at.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh don’t worry. You should know that I’m well-versed enough in magic to preserve a little bit of food.”

“What’s this about food without me?”

The both of you perked up at that voice, attention snapping to the edge of the yard where a white-haired man stood.

“Ginko!” Adashino called. “Hey!”

You shot to your feet with another cry of his name, ditching your sandals where they were and launching yourself at him. Ginko grunted as you crashed into him, staggering at the force of your collision.

“Geez,” he grumbled, wheezing as you squeezed him in a hug. “Missed me much?”

The smoke of his mushi warding cigarette tickled your nose and you pulled back, sneezing heavily. However, despite the warding affecting you to some extent, it didn’t stop your face from splitting into a wide grin. “Duh. Come on, put your pack down, and let’s eat. No matter what you think, we were waiting for you.”

Adashino made a sound. “Maybe you should be quicker next time.”

“Hmph.” Ginko took his cigarette out, snubbing it and tossing the butt into the shrubbery to the dark-haired man’s dismay. As you pranced back to where Adashino was sitting, Ginko slung off his traveling case and set it down next to your own bags. He settled down with a groan, relieved to be off his feet after a long day.

As Adashino began to portion out the soup and rice, your deft fingers unknotted the twine trying up your first bundle of food. There was an electric crackle in the air that made both men pause, and a snap as verdant leaves opened to reveal pristine triangles of plump rice.

“Your magic?” Ginko asked as you reached to undo the other bundle.

You nodded. “Just a simple one for these to keep as I traveled back.”

There was a second snap and this time it revealed wrinkly dried fruits, the sour smell of pickled plums wafting up to join the other food odors in the air. Both of them immediately knew what those were and Adashino winced.

“I’m not touching those,” Ginko declared, reaching for one of the rice balls from the first bundle. He took a bite from it, not seeing Adashino trying to stop him. “I know that whatever you brought home, those are not normal umeboshi and–”

His expression deadpanned, lips thinning and eye twitching as the flavor finally hit him. Seeing that, you cracked.

“I tried to stop you…” Adashino sighed while you cackled. “But you weren’t paying attention.”

“I was going to say…” You began, trying to find air between your laughter as you scooped up your own rice ball. “I visited the Valley of the Plums. There was a seasonal shop there known for its intensely sour plums, so I got some to take home.”

A massive bite was taken out of yours, you humming in delight as you finally indulged in the treats after so long. Though you favored the sour flavors the same couldn’t be said for either of the men, who stared at you warily as you ate your rice ball with no reaction.

Adashino, fooled by your lack of response, tentatively reached for one of his own. “It can’t be that bad right…?” He picked it up and brought it closer to inspect it. Like he would one of his mushi items,

“Do it,” Ginko demanded.

The man, fool as he was, gave into his temptations and bit into it. His face puckered up, such a comical expression that sent you into another round of raucous laughter and even sparked Ginko to chuckle too.

“By the gods!” Adashino exclaimed once he got his mouthful down. “People eat this? This should belong on the shelves of my collectibles. Ginko why did you tell me to eat it?”

The said man forced himself to take another bite. “If I have to go through it, so do you. Someone has to go through this with me since this one–” he jerked a thumb to you, innocently sipping your miso soup to wash down your finished rice ball, “–is completely immune to everything.”

You smiled peacefully. “There are just the plain plums too if any of you want to eat them with the rest of the food."

“No way!!”

My writing abilities when I have an entire free day: twelve words. Take it or leave it

My writing abilities when I have to be somewhere in fifteen minutes: I got six thousand more in the pocket

actual footage of my brain rn

i looooove seeing artists & writers proud of their work!!!!! i looooove captions & authors notes that say things like “i’m quite happy with this” “i love how this turned out” “i had so much fun making this”!!!!!! i loooooove when the act of creation is joyful & we take pride in what we make!!!!!!!!!!