#I am the golden one // Who burns just like the sun! (Dawn)

[anthologyoflucas]

@strigidaeparliament

“Now be careful riding Blaze, you have to be ready for any possible stops or jumps. She’ll send you flying.”

[suguwu]

this man is ruining my life. somehow this is 1.6k.

minors and ageless blogs dni. you will be blocked.

jing yuan x f!reader, pwp, sex pollen/aphrodisiac, unprotected sex.

you stare at jing yuan.

he meets your gaze, the corner of his lips flickering up, a guttering candle flame.

"you were what?"

"poisoned," he says cheerfully. "lady bailu confirmed it."

"so you decided to die in my foyer?"

"apparently it's mild."

"what a shame."

"so cruel."

"why are you here, jing yuan?" you ask.

"ah," he says. "it appears that the poison has...a few side effects. there's a possibility that i could be compromised."

you tilt your head. "compromised?"

"i am rather susceptible to certain stimuli at the moment. there's a possibility that—in the correct circumstances—i could give away a few things that should not be divulged."

you study him. he stays smiling, but he shifts in place minutely. he's flushed, a pale pink the color of the dawn in two spots high on his cheeks, and there's a thin layer of sweat gathering at his temples. it's starting to darken his hair to the deeper silver of the artificial moon.

"jing yuan," you say slowly. "what, exactly, are the side effects?"

"similar to a strong aphrodisiac."

"similar? or exactly like one?"

he huffs out a laugh, but it's strained. "astute as always," he says. "exactly like one."

you can't help but glance down.

he's hard.

heat suffuses your cheeks, burns hot like a supernova. you look back up at him immediately. his golden eyes are gleaming, his pupils dilating, a black hole devouring the sun.

shameless, you think.

"what do you want from me?" you ask bluntly.

"nothing untoward. just your company."

"i'm not sure i believe you."

"i just need to be with someone who won't take advantage," he says. "and i don't want to expose yanqing to this."

you sigh. "fine," you say, beckoning him deeper into your house. "come on."

the two of you settle in your living room. jing yuan sighs, closing his eyes and tilting his head back into the cushions, exposing the long line of his throat. the sweat is beading more heavily at his brow now, shining in the afternoon light, and you gnaw at your lower lip.

you pick your book back up as his breath evens out, his broad chest rising and falling with it. his brow furrows more deeply; the set of his lips looks pained.

you put your book down.

"does it—"

"it's merely uncomfortable," he says, cracking open an eye. "please don't worry about it."

you chew on your lip again. "there has to be something i can do."

he pauses for a moment. "i don't want to ask something of you that you're not willing to give."

"you won't know until you ask."

"i'd like to hold you," he says, shifting slightly. "nothing more."

it stokes the heat in your cheeks; they feel like they're on fire, burning merrily. the usual tease in his voice is gone. somehow, it bares something in you, flays you open. your traitorous heart flutters.

without a word, you stand. jing yuan raises his head, watching with interest as you cross to him. you stand in front of him for a moment, dithering like a moth, before you sink down next to him.

it takes a moment to settle into a comfortable position, but you end up with his arms wound around you as you lean back against his broad chest. you're not quite in his lap, but you're close.

he presses his cheek against you. "thank you," he says, his voice rumbling through you.

"don't mention it," you say, cheeks still suffused with heat. "really. please don't."

he chuckles, arms tightening around you. "shouldn't i be the one embarrassed?"

"nothing ever embarrasses you."

he laughs outright at that. you squirm as the sound vibrates through you; it sends a gust of damp, hot air against the sensitive shell of your ear. jing yuan is warm against you, the gentle heat of sunbaked stones, and you're not immune to the hard press of his body against you.

you shift again, settling back against him further. you take in a sharp breath as his cock—now pressed flush against the small of your back—twitches. his arms tighten around you as his breath hitches. his fingers sink into the softness of you before he lets go.

"perhaps this was a bad idea," he says, sounding strained. you're not sure he knows that one of his thumbs is stroking along the waistband of your pants, just shy of the skin beneath.

"maybe," you agree, voice breathy.

he shifts; it brings you entirely into his lap. you take a deep breath.

"tell me to stop," he murmurs, pressing close and nipping at the shell of your ear. his cock throbs against you.

you take hold of one of his big hands. you bring it up to your breast; it takes only the slightest flex of your fingers for him to cup it, his palm brushing against your hardening nipple.

"i don't want to," you admit.

he squeezes at your tit. it sends sparks skittering up your nerves. he slides his hand down and plucks at your nipple. the sensation is blunted by your shirt, but it arrows through you anyway.

"i'll struggle to control myself," he warns, his other hand sneaking between your legs to palm your dampening cunt. it presses the seam of your pants against you. you chase the feeling with a roll of your hips.

"good," you say, and that's all it takes for the world to spin as he flips you beneath him, pinning you down against the couch as he slips between your legs. you lift your hips to press up against his cock, and he groans before dipping down to kiss you.

he's soft with you for a breath, and then he devours you, all teeth and tongue, spit starting to drip messily down your chin. he shoves your shirt up over your tits and tugs down the cups of your bra until your breasts spill out.

before you can even protest the rough treatment of your favorite bra, he's ducking down to close his hot mouth around a nipple. you hiss out a breath and feel him grin against your skin. he suckles until your nipple is peaked and hard, occasionally grazing his teeth against the soft skin that surrounds it.

you fist a hand in his fluffy hair. he groans as you tug at it, his hands scrambling at the fastening of your pants. he nips at you until you raise your hips for him, letting him push down your pants until they're tangled around your ankles.

he's on you again in an instant, kissing you with deep intent, stealing your breath away, as if it wasn't his already. one big hand slips between your legs to cup your cunt.

jing yuan drags his fingers over the damp spot on your underwear. "this wet for me?" he asks.

"says the one who was hard when he showed up at my doorstep."

"true," he says, and then he descends to your tits again, sucking and biting until you're arching up into him with breathy little whines.

he pushes aside your underwear and sinks one big finger into you. you flutter around the intrusion and he curses under his breath before biting hard between your breasts, making you yelp. he pushes another finger into you almost immediately.

you tug at his hair again and he moans against your skin, the rich sound vibrating through you. your voice breaks on his name as he sinks a third finger into you, thrusting hard and curling his fingers until he finds your sweet spot, making you spasm around him.

"so good," he breathes. "so good for me, that's it."

he kisses you as he pulls his fingers out; you can feel him undoing his belt and then his pants, his knuckles brushing against you.

and then he's in you, and you sink your fingers into his back from the stretch, from the way he opens you so well on his cock.

"jing yuan!"

"you can take it," he soothes, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips even as he snaps his hips in a devastating thrust. the embers of your pleasure begin to spark into a fire, start to run hot through your veins.

he kisses you harshly as he starts to fuck you hard, each long stroke reaching deeply enough in you to make you keen. he presses down on you with each roll of his hips, pinning you completely, until all you can do is take him.

he sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder when you tug at his hair again. you mewl at the lightning strike of pain, but it melts away into heat, stoking the fire burning inside you.

you gasp as he fucks you without abandon, each thrust of his hips heavy, bullying inside of you. one of his hands drops to your clit and your voice breaks on his name.

he grates out your name when he cums, his diligent fingers circling harder on your clit until you're shuddering with it, heat racing through you like a forest fire, leaving ashes in its wake, like a landscape forever altered.

when your orgasm fades away, jing yuan kisses you softly. he teases at your lips with his tongue; nips at your lower lip until you bite back. then he rolls his hips again, and your breath catches.

he hasn't softened at all.

he gazes down at you, sweat-soaked, his pupils dilated until there's just a thin rim of gold around them, the sunrise against the horizon.

he fucks in and out of you until you hiss at the way it sparks down your nerves like lightning, pleasure kissed with pain.

"can you keep going?" he asks, drawing his tongue up the line of your jaw. you tighten around him.

"yes," you say, and his eyes flash with something predatory.

"good," he purrs. "because i'm not sated yet."

[fiikaela]

By the Blades We Meet

lmaooo randomly back again. This one is a bit more eventful in terms of setting up the tone for future stuff so enjoy :D

--

Chapter four

"Good, now a little faster."

You clicked your tongue in annoyance, eyes flicking up to the almost condescending smile that plastered all over his face. Ganondorf should be at least proud of you being able to handle a spear even though you barely use spears at all, but of course the snarky bastard would choose to laugh at your slight discomfort. To make matters even more irksome, it turns out he's just as good with a spear as with a katana.

"Wish you had a katana in hand, hm?"

You chose to ignore his comment, instead taking the obvious opening to his side.

You watched helplessly as he blocked that attack with a speed that should be deemed impossible for his build. He always seemed to be the one who is strong but slow, though your sparring sessions kept giving a jarring reminder that he's just as agile and fast as you are.

He huffed a laugh, and you saw this slightest shift in his posture, and your instincts took over.

You turned to the side just as he charged at you, narrowly dodging the strike that you barely registered. That could've knocked you straight into that wall if you didn't act as fast as you did. Your heart hammered, Ganondorf seemed to hesitate just half a second before turning back, and you took the opportunity and lunged, the sudden force made him lose balance, knocking him to the ground.

You grinned, hovering above him. Taking in the joy of his flabbergasted expression.

"Well, it looks like the 'noob' had just won."

He stared at your gleeful expression. He was somehow breathing fast, and it was something other than the thrill of your spar session, or you being on top of him.

Or anything similar to that.

When he dashed at you and saw you shifting away just at the last second, it stirred something inside of him. He wasn't sure what it was, but it stirred something familiar. The sight of your face, blurred in his speed, half hidden behind locks of silver hair that was dyed a light yellow by the sunlight. But he can see the eyes that peered underneath them: determined, focused.

That scene looked familiar, like an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. It reminded him of golden locks, a pair of blue eyes that looked as deep as the heavens yet as cold as eternal winter. It reminded him of anger, elation, and almost a desperate longing for something. Something that brought a sickening sense flooding at him.

His heart was beating way too fast, he was getting slightly lightheaded. In his peripheral vision, he had saw you pounce at him, but he couldn't get enough time to stop you. You had more strength than he thought, and the slight pain when he fell on the floor snapped him back from reality. He stared at you, taking the sight of your face, and finding his pacing heart magically calm down.

"Ganondorf? Hello? I just won~" The sight of your fingers waving was the final he needed to come back to himself. You laughed at the realization dawning in his eyes, taking your turn to be the smug one. "Well?" You asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"Well, congratulations on your first win of today." He rolled his eyes jokingly, knowing the reminder will likely make your face drop. And it did, which was hilarious yet adorable at the same time.

You were so close to him... He can just raise his hand, cup the back of your head, and lean up... just a little bit...

"Sore loser." You huffed, clanking down your spear at the side of his head. He doesn't seem to be bothered, but a genuine smile shining on his face at your exasperated expression.

"Of course, that was no small feat. You should be proud of yourself, just as I am of you, little warrior."

The sun was suddenly getting very hot, because your cheeks are burning. If he saw it, he was gracious enough not to mention it. You tensed in your position, seeing him cocking his eyebrow and giving you a suggestive smirk. You felt a hand suddenly clasping down at your back, it was gentle, but given enough strength to keep you exactly where you are: half-crouched over his huge body.

"Mm.... You look so cute on top of me." Ganondorf tilted his head up, his playful, golden eyes roamed your form. "I wonder how you'll look like beneath me... not too flustered, I hope?" His lips pulled back, revealing that row of sharp canines.

"I'll be gentle, though. If that's what you desire."

The last sentence came out as a bare whisper, and you had doubted if you heard it wrong. He had laid his head back, an expectant smirk playing on his face.

It took you quite a few seconds to realize his joke was not about another spar session.

He laughed at whatever embarrassing expression you had, the same thunderous sound that you can feel vibrating against your own chest. You quickly jumped away, feeling your face and the tips of your ears burning.

He sat up, grinning at you as he leaned over to pick up his spear. You opened your mouth to say something snarky, or even mock him for being so careless as to be knocked to the ground when he suddenly grunted in pain, the arm supporting his upper body seemed to slip as he fell. Before you know it, you had sprang to your feet, and somehow you managed to catch him. One of his giant hands was on the side of his temple, his fiery brows knitted together.

You tilted you head as he sat up from your clutch, eyes closed in effort. Did you really hurt him that badly? Is it a concussion?

"Should I call someone?" You asked nervously, looking around him to check for any visible injury. None. It wouldn't take too long, but it still made you nervous given that you don't know the severity of his condition.

Ganondorf barely heard you over the pulsing pain in his head. It came in waves, and overwhelmed him until all he could focus on was to control his breaths.

What was this? He saw something again, flashes of red, something glimmering in a long, nailed hand as pain exploded in a concentrated area on his forehead. He felt rage, absolute rage, like he was ready to throw away everything just to quench its burn. How could he have lost?  Lost to-

Lost to who?

The name sat just on the edge of the memory, just a little out of reach. Yet every time he tried to touch it, it slips away just around his fingertips. Who is it? Warning flashed all over his head, something in his subconscious told him to stop looking. 

It felt as if everything he knows now will collapse if he didn't.

"Ganondorf! If you don't answer me in the next five seconds I will need to run back to town."

You voice sounded just above him. It was so unusual, your normally calm voice sounded on edge and worried. And he doesn't like it.

He forced himself back, blinking a few times before his vision returned to normal. Your face appeared in front of him, worry written all over those delicate features, an arm outstretched to shield him from the sun. He couldn't help but to stare, a hand extended to brush a streak of silver lock away from your face and behind one sharp ear.

"I'm alright." He muttered, shaking his head to dust out the sand in between his locks. You look stunned for a few seconds before he heard you giggle, saw your eyes looking at him in glee. "What?"

"You look like a dog shaking out the water." You pointed to your head, mimicking the way he shook his head.

"Shut up."

But he couldn't stop the smile that cracked his stoic expression. He reached over, suddenly grabbing your shoulders as a giant hand came to ruffle your hair, messing it up despite of your protest.

"Now you look like you have just been attacked by several chickens." He folded his arms around his chest, grinning proudly at his work.

"That was so uncalled for! I was worried about you!" You yelled with feigned anger, trying to grab his hair as he easily evaded your attempts, laughing to himself.

"You sure you are ok though?" You stopped, looking curiously up at him. He's so unpredictable, one second he looks like he's suffering from a head injury, and the next he's laughing at his own dumb prank. "I didn't hit you too hard on the head, did I?"

He stopped laughing, but the eyes that looked down at you were smiling in their own way, the melted amber had almost a gentle look in them.

"Worried, aren't we?"

He suddenly swooped you up into his arms, bridle style. Your breath was snatched away for half a second, seeing the smirk that widened on his face as your spear clattered to the ground.

"H-Hey!" You protested, squirming in his arms with no avail. You were too close. Way too close. Close to the point that you can see the beams of sweat still shining on his face, see the golden embroideries that hang around his shoulders jingle with each breath. You could smell the pleasant scent from his hair despite of a whole morning of sparring.

He looked down, tapping on finger onto your forehead as if you were a baby, "do I look like I need help?" He teased, tilting his head slightly to give you a mocking sympathetic look.

"I mean-" you paused, trying to regain your composure. You have never been held like this, at least, not any that you remember. It's strange, being so close to another in... this way. You weren't sure what it meant, or how you should feel about it. Sure, you've seen weddings where the groom would pick up the giggling bride like this, but it can't be the same- you only knew him for a few days.

"Like what you see?" Seeing your pause, the Gerudo King grinned in smugness. Of course, this should be enough to do the job... now all he needs to do is-

Your quiet laugh sounded, snapping him out of his thoughts. His vision refocused on your face, and instead of a deep blush he was expecting, all he saw was your beaming grin.

"Sure." You giggled, punching his shoulder lightly. "You know, you needn't try so hard to prove that you are ok."

He sometimes wondered how you managed to be so clever in everything else aside from all those obvious advances he made on you.

Which makes this particular conquest so much sweeter.

Oh, how pretty you'd look, pinned underneath him on a plush bed.

... ... ...

The walk back was relaxing, feeling your feet sinking into the warm sand as the fierce afterglows of a beautiful evening beamed up ahead. It's the most comfortable temperature of the day, not too warm, not too cold. You barely noticed the guards at the gates sharing a concerned look with each other as both of you passed by, too lost in the beautiful scenery.

He told you goodnight as he went into the palace, of course, not without an attempt to invite you in with him. You haven't been to the palace yet, you saw no need to go there. It's not like you want to be stared at by ten guards simultaneously, either.

You found a spot on top of the waterway, sitting there idly as you watched the townspeople went about their day. There were a few other races too, some Hylians, some Ritos, and a group of three Gorons playing a game with a few rocks.

"Lord Ganondorf seems to take quite a liking in you."

A voice suddenly rang on top of you, you turned back, seeing the same Gerudo guard who had given you that ring just a few days prior. You smiled, looking down. "Nah, please don't say it like that."

The woman chuckled, her voice a deep caress of warm summer breeze. You watched curiously as she sat down beside you.

"Did Lord Ganondorf act... anything out of the ordinary today?" She asked, giving you an almost cautious gaze.

The way he seemed to be out of breath for a few seconds, brows furrowed in pain as his hand rubbed his temples.

This is too much to be a coincidence. Though, you'd barely know Ganondorf to know if whatever transpired today was a coincidence. Seeing your untrusting gaze, she smiled, adding on quickly, "I was just asking. Since you both took longer than usual for your spar session."

You nodded. She watched you as you thought of the words. It can't hurt to tell his own personal guards right? Even though you know the man has a pride of a lion, you should put his health before this.

"Well, when we were sparring today, he almost collapsed from a headache." You said slowly, "it was after I knocked him to the ground."

Hopefully you won't be executed for harming their precious king. You waited nervously, did something happen to him? Was he not feeling ok?

The woman burst out laughing, giving you a slight jump, "you knocked him to the ground? Oh, that must've been hilarious!"

You laughed along with her awkwardly, "yeah."

"And he didn't kill you for it?"

"Well, I'm alive as of now, it seems."

The guard laughed, patting you on the back with a knowing look. "Seems he really had taken a liking in you, little vai."

You flushed, you head buzzing at the flattery.

"Thanks, I was just checking in. Glad to hear that you are doing alright." She stood up, getting ready to leave.

"Aren't you worried about his head?" You blurted out, "is he alright?"

Something unreadable flashed across her eyes, as if she was contemplating on her answer for a brief moment before she answered, "of course he will be alright, silly." She looked up at the sky, at the last burn of colors slowly fading away, then back at you again. "Quite worried about him, hm?" She winked at your flustered face, before walking off the side and disappearing around one corner.

Yeah... why are you even worried about him?

You shrugged to yourself, hopping down from the ledge to fix yourself some early dinner. You are going to have another spar session tomorrow anyways.

As you stepped into the lively bar of the town, greeted by enthusiastic Gerudo women who clasped their hands to your back, the darkness slowly begin to set in.

The moon was red tonight.

--

ohohoho now we are going somewhere!

btw i posted this with the same title on ao3 too since i feel like im flooding everyone's inboxes every time i post😭

i will still post here tho ig so nw about that. Don't want to seem like someone promoting their stuff too hard when im just here for the funsies of it >:)

[haste-waste]

Zelink Week 2024: The Baker and the Seamstress (Chapter 7)

Day 7's prompt is "Reunion." Happy Zelink Week! Hope you enjoy! @zelinkcommunity

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

← Previous Chapter

The storefront was deathly silent, enough to hear the pulls of breath from everyone in the room: three guards, Lord Yuga, and Zelda. Link hadn't moved for an hour or so, tied up and hanging on his side, dangling from his rafters, but he was alert. The woven whip thing, whatever it was called, was awful. It pooled all the blood in his head and feet. It hurt to take a full breath.

The sun threatened to rise. Zelda embroidered below him, a repeating pattern of scales and dragon talons, the fabric rustling as she worked, adding texture to the rhythmic sounds of breathing.

The despicable man waltzed around his shop, his pride and joy, like he owned the place. "Why do you dawdle?" He commented. "Do you wish to further torment this poor village?" The lord tugged on the whip, and the bindings constricted his forearms and ribs even tighter. He almost wheezed. "To torment this man more than you have already?"

"Does my lord not require perfection?" The seamstress spoke stiffly. Even from this angle, he saw how she masked her fear. It went straight to her hands. He could see her every shift and movement, and she nearly unthreaded her needle in the process.

Her reply seemed to please him. "Finally, you are learning." Yuga leaned his hip against his prized wooden counter and drummed his fingers upon it. "How shameful that it took you this long to understand. Regardless, I am not leaving without that garment," he barked petulantly.

Her hands and thread glowed like liquid sunlight, competing with the upcoming dawn, and he feared for her. By sewing, she brought a terrible fate on herself just so he, of all people, wouldn't die at the hand of a terrible man who reeked of opulence, possession, and madness. Even so, the lord was not someone to underestimate. The darkness Yuga channeled through his bindings did something to him. It emphasized his loneliness, his fear, and his grief, carving a hole in his heart. When Zelda inevitably finished her work, she'd be lost, and her light was the only reprieve from all the darkness in his life.

He needed to prevent that from happening. The robe could not be finished. And for that, he needed his sword. Maybe it would come to life in his hand and aid his plans. First, he had to free himself. Next, he would get Zelda to safety. Lastly, he would fight until his last breath. After Agahnim, the guards from earlier were nothing more than moblins in terms of skill. If he had enough time, he could cut through the rest of the guards and fight Yuga head on.

He was grasping at straws. He needed something, any idea, any reason for hope.

And so, he waited for the right moment to strike.

------

"It's close," Yuga said, investigating her work.

It was. She only had to complete the satin stitching on Dinraal's curved horns, to emphasize their fiery, faceted brilliance. The thought of fire and thread turned in her mind. If she could destroy the robe somehow, they had a fighting chance. Maybe. The whips were a major stumbling block. Maybe she could take one out of commission by being captured so Link had a fighting chance to escape. Perhaps even to fight. His condition, though…

She was keenly aware of Link hanging above her helplessly, bleeding and injured. If she looked up at him, she'd break. He needed her.

The end of her work drew near. She played it in her head: she'd cut the golden thread, knot it, burn it to prevent fraying, flip it over, and present the robes to him like a fool.

Burn the thread? That was it! She had a plan, and it was her only chance to end it once and for all. It was perfectly reasonable. When she used a flame to melt the thread, a standard practice, she'd accidentally set the entire thing on fire. Her powers augmented clothing, yes, but she had never sewn anything fireproof.

She finished the edges of the horns, flipped the robe over, and tied the knot, fighting her shaking hands.

"My Lord," she began quietly. "Do you have a blade? I must cut the thread," she spoke formally.

Yuga glanced at one of the guards, and they walked over and pulled out a knife. "Please leave a tail," she requested, and they sliced the thread where she pinched it. The golden thread frayed, just as she hoped, and she pretended to frown.

"My Lord?"

He glared at her. She continued. "I must burn the leftover thread so it does not fray and come undone." Yuga's eyes narrowed at her words. "It is standard practice, my Lord," she said, bowing her head and flinching, just as she used to, expecting a punishment. She received one; he backhanded her for the inconvenience.

Link made a distressed noise above her and struggled.

"A flame, you say?" Yuga said, crouching down in front of her. "Allow me."

She was going to request to control the flame, maybe sending a guard to gather one on a twig, but Lord Yuga took off a pristine glove and pointed. A deep red flame appeared on his fingertip, and with little patience, he lit the thread. The frayed strands curled and shrunk until they reached the knot.

And with that, the robes were finished, and her plan to burn the robes literally went up in smoke. The fabric shone so bright it was hard to look at. She wanted to throw up.

"It is done," he gasped. "It is finally complete!" Yuga wrenched the robes out of the seamstress's hands, like the whips she was forced to braid for him, the fabric chains, and every other piece of clothing under his imprisonment. Her anger, resentment, and fear boiled and flared, churning like molten metal behind her eyes. She clenched her jaw.

Yuga ran the cloth through his fingers in delight. With an errant tug of his whip, the baker fell to the floor with a thud. "Kill him," he declared. Then, he snapped his fingers—Zelda's stomach dropped to her feet—and her fabric chains grew in length and engulfed her. Yuga started pulling her toward him, like an owner with a stubborn dog, and she fought the entire way, scuttling her feet against the floorboards.

Her leg grazed over Link's rusty sword; as soon as it made contact with her calf, the sword began to pulse. Her skin glowed briefly—what in Hylia's name?—she watched the light accrue on her leg and sink into the metal. The rust faded in patches and renewed itself before her very eyes, leaving a mostly intact sword that gleamed with holy light. She was pulled closer toward the door before she could even think to grab it.

Quick as lightning, Link freed himself from the binds, went for his sword and barely snatched it with his fingertips. The fabric chains on her limbs held her back while the baker was dogpiled by the remaining soldiers. A flare of metal was thrust down toward his chest, stabbing him in front of her, leaving her panic-stricken, but her attention was ripped away. She gaped in horror as Yuga froze her bindings, immobilizing her as he donned his robes. They began to flutter in a directionless wind.

Her fear turned into burning, unending fury, so deep it filled her lungs, her nerves, and her mind. The baker dodged and rolled as the room filled with blazing red light.

Yuga laughed. It was a haunting, overwhelming sound. His powers came to life, deep red magic emitting from his hands to fabric, flat red becoming dynamic and roiling, churning red and magenta hues together. The robes billowed and expanded into an array of whip-like silks, glowing embroidery, and fine, endless linens. Unbidden, they streamed outward, billowing to their fullest length. They paused in midair, almost dreamlike in appearance, like someone hung the fabrics from the rafters.

Madness and awe spewed from Yuga's mouth. "What amazing power!" He clenched his fists, and his power permeated throughout the lengths of his ensemble. "Gaze upon my form!" The dragon embroidered on his back began to coil and snake across his shoulders, brought to motion by his magic. "Witness my maximum potential!"

Her bindings shifted, forcing her to look upon his horrific splendor. "I will raze this pathetic land and shape it to my will. Any who stand in my way shall fall. All shall bow to me. All shall obey me!"

Zelda was petrified. Her heart was beating so frantically she thought it would burst.

"I will forge this land anew! My bloodline will reign without end!"

Zelda felt her bindings rise, lifting her off the ground, leaving her feet dangling as she was pulled to Yuga's height. "And it begins with you," he noted as she struggled. "You and your incredible power."

Link shouted her name above the fray, dodging, swiping, and clashing with his combatants.

Yuga assessed her face with a critical eye. She felt wholly exposed under his gaze. He found what he sought, then; his eyes sharpened and leered. "I will plow your soil and sow my seed within you." Terrified beyond belief, her hopes and dreams crumbled into despair as Yuga continued his declarations. "I will reap your bounty until the fruits of your labor carry on my legacy," he hissed, clearly displeased at her disobedience and cowardice. "Now be a good girl and submit."

A single finger traveled toward her face, aiming to trace her jaw. Her skin crawled in revulsion at Yuga, his cursed robes, his expectant and domineering actions.

She felt the dire need to shrink like the frightened, beaten cat she was. It was instinctive, automatic, and she was sick of it. She was sick of this deplorable man and his plans. She was sick at what he'd done to Link and his bakery. She was sick of the bindings around her waist, the fear that followed her every thought and action, and the insurmountable pain and suffering she had faced.

Instead of flinching, the rugged cat within her yowled and hissed, bearing its teeth and claws.

Zelda's deeply submerged rage grew to unspeakable proportions and burst out of the confines of her fear, decency, and civility. She tore her head away from his hand, so irate by the action she retorted: "DO NOT TOUCH ME!"

Yuga reared his hand back in shock at her outburst, the dragon scales undulating with the movement, magic in motion. His brow tightened into a deep line, accompanying a ferocious scowl. "You dare defy me?"

Against her better judgment, she gathered her fury and spat it in his face.

Lord Yuga froze, wide-eyed and incredulous. He brought his hand to his chin, touched the wetness, lowered his hand, and peered at the saliva that dotted it. He closed his eyes.

Then, he laughed, laughed, and laughed. "You fool," he uttered. Then, he became rigid, clenching his jaw in concentration. His hair rose and surrounded him like his robes, a curtain of fire. When he opened his eyes, they were solid red. Yuga's power channeled across his skin, corrupting him wherever it went, a foul aura dripping and oozing from him as his skin went from pale to the color of slate and magenta.

"My Lord!" A guard exclaimed at the sight of his master, but he was silenced by Link's blade. Zelda was preoccupied by the malicious energy surrounding her, a suffocating blanket of gloom. It reverberated through her bones, seeking to destroy her from the inside out.

So many years of pain and fear and despair were dredged up by Yuga's aura. Her parents. Her uncle. Her grandmother. All of them lay still on the ground, while she was trapped in the corner, surrounded by Agahnim and Yuga's imposing forms, who snatched her up before she could blink. Five years of confinement. Five years of suffering and slaving away. There was no escape. Submit, or die.

She refused. No more. Enough. When the gloom forced its way to the last layer of her thoughts, seeking her soul, it met a wall of resistance. Her soul retaliated. She felt the thin layer of her power sink under the weight of it, and she plunged into the unknown depths of her heart. Something was there, freshly unearthed by her fury, just waiting to be discovered. She grasped and held onto it, a lifeline, and it embraced her, coated her heart in assurance, and steered her forward in the face of evil.

"SUBMIT!" Yuga bellowed, his voice octaves lower and raspy, filling her with disgust.

She refused. A distinct urge to purge, to purify the filth before her, to wipe clean, burst forth from her soul, pumping through her veins.

She opened her eyes, and Yuga's red eyes narrowed at the sight of the golden light beaming out of her from all directions. It streamed out of her heart, an unstoppable force of nature, yearning to cleanse all that sullied. It was pure radiance of impossible magnitude; instead of the comforting golden rays of the morning, her light was that of noon, of searing, divine fury.

Her power seeped into the fabric chains, guiding her pain and outrage and desire and resolve down the pleats and seams. Gold clashed against crimson, the fabric vibrating under the magical strain, a tug of war between light and darkness. The wind whipped as they battled, each outpouring their magic to their fullest extent. The constraints around her torso loosened in response, leaving only her wrists and ankles still under Yuga's control.

Yuga fought back with an irate, driven look on his face. A wave of malice-laden fabric raised and threatened to slam over her and the rest of the bakery. She wouldn't allow it.

The guiding light in her soul pressed, it screamed, and it overruled. She was the mouthpiece to something ancient, as old as the world itself, carried within her blood, and she was in complete agreement with its desires. "YOU WILL NEVER HURT ANOTHER SOUL EVER AGAIN!" Zelda roared, outstretching her hands, and her creations obeyed her sacred command.

One by one, the fabrics began a magnetic pull toward Yuga, so completely filled with bleaching radiance power they hissed on contact with his skin. The conflagration of streaming, whirling fabric began to blot out the oozing gloom and malice. Yuga proceeded to scream in agony.

A blazing column of fabric careened in the air and plunged into his open mouth, shimmying down his throat. He gargled on it; he thrashed and tried to wrench it out. It burned wherever it touched him, inside and out. His torso wriggled as the column split into separate strips and latched onto his face, shrouding his head completely. Golden light shot out his eyes and mouth as the rest of the fabrics surrounded his body, mummifying him in his own robes.

The soldiers paused their plight, distracted by the display. Link narrowly escaped the onslaught and hurtled toward the seamstress, impeded by the force of the power emanating through the room, swimming through a storm of magic.

The whips snatched the remaining soldiers around their waists, carrying them and the bodies and blood of the felled, dragging them into the tornado of fabric—and they howled in pain as the fabrics seared into their skin. At the center was Yuga, completely ensconced in his cursed robes and whips, giving off an immense heat from the magic and mass condensed in such a small space.

The Lord reached for her in agony, a pathetic, last ditch attempt—a blazing red plume of corrupted fabric shot toward the seamstress, ravenous tendrils meant to seize and drag her into the destructive tempest, aiming directly for her chest—

—But the baker interceded.

An echoing chime rang throughout the room. Link's sword glowed righteously, the daytime sky to her sunlight, and he ripped through the attack with a mighty shout, flaying the fabric clean in half. The fabric fluttered and snapped back onto the churning mass, tying Yuga and his men into a knot. The air grew uncomfortably hot.

Zelda felt a stinging pain around her wrists and ankles. The fabric chains glowed with Yuga's putrescence, four guidelines connecting her to his vengeance, and they slowly began to pull her toward the mass, the attractive force now out of her control.

Yuga was trying to take her with him.

She shrieked. Link whirled on the spot and sliced her taut binds with an upward pull of the sword. He launched himself at her. She crashed into his chest, and they clutched each other, reuniting as the room turned into absolute chaos. The mass writhed and steamed and blazed so bright, they shielded their faces as an explosion rattled throughout the bakery.

Shakily, the seamstress opened her eyes.

All that remained of Yuga and his entourage was a pile of ash. Everything had burned away: the robe, the whips, and her chains.

The bakery lay quiet. Ransacked and scorched, but quiet.

She felt Link heave for air beside her. She felt him swallow. And then she felt him speak. "Remind me to never make you angry while you sew," he said weakly.

The seamstress choked in surprise. Inexplicably, she felt a hysteria-infused laugh bubble past her lips. The world was spinning and he was alive and goddesses above—they were…

Agahnim, her heart reminded, ever vigilant. Lord Yuga never went anywhere without him. A slew of emotions and pain and fear and dread had her trembling on the floor. "Link!" She clutched his shirt to ground herself, glancing around the room before looking at him gravely. "It's not over. Agahnim—" she gasped, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't do this all over again, "—Agahnim is a sorcerer who will—"

"He's dead," he replied. That couldn't be true. Agahnim could not die. He often reminded her of that.

The sword flashed at his side. Something fluttered against her thoughts, a feeling, a new but familiar voice, just a whisper: It is done. Flashes of color and movement played in her mind. Agahnim, towering over a familiar, frightened boy who held a rusty sword in his hand. The boy, writhing on the ground, earning his scars as magic clouded around him. The colors shifted, forming memories that weren't her own. Link, as he was now, rising to his feet as he dodged wave after wave of magic. Him, intercepting a massive attack with his sword, the magic pushing and pulling between Agahnim and himself with each consecutive slice of his sword and Agahnim's staff. Then, the final blow, the sorcerer slumping to the ground.

"I killed him." Link's voice was steely over her thoughts, vindicated, and deeply protective.

Do not doubt. It is done, the mechanical voice assured.

"He's gone." Link exhaled slowly, and tightened his arms around her. "I—I think it's over," he murmured, his hand finding its way to the back of her head and holding her steadfast against him.

The events of the evening came to a head in her thoughts, everything they experienced, and then, she felt the slickness of his skin against her own, his arm against her own.

He was bleeding. She jolted. He loosened his arms, and she gently pushed him back in order to inspect him. Where his skin was uncovered held the remnants of battle and captivity: bruises like brands where the whips bit into his skin, cuts, scrapes, and welts from his skirmish with the guards, but nothing was severe. Most of the cuts were already beginning to scab. His cropped pants were dirty, but relatively unscathed. Her eyes trailed lower, and paused; there was a rip right across his chest. She remembered the flash of metal and her panic as he was stabbed.

Fearing the worst, she looked down at skin peeking under the tear and found a bruise instead of a gash. She couldn't believe her eyes. His clothes were rumpled, singed, and cut in too many places, but his skin underneath was unbroken. That shouldn't be possible. He should have died from what he had gone through.

"How?" she questioned, looking up at him incredulously. "And you fought…you fought so fiercely!" So fiercely, she had a hard time coming to terms that he, the gentle, kind man that he was, was so skilled and ruthless with the blade. "How on earth are you alive?"

He laughed, looking absolutely exhausted, but overjoyed. "It was you. Look." He laid her hand on his chest and held it there. "Look at the stitches."

She gasped. Her thread and seams glowed faintly under her palm in the fading darkness. The gentle magic emanating from the fabric was a balm to her senses. Her creations for Yuga felt hot and agitated in her hands, fueled by fear and fury. This felt like…like how the wind carried autumn leaves and the soft petals of spring. It felt like the warmth of a comforting meal, the joy of shared company, and his wonderful smile.

It felt like love.

The fabric carries what the heart cannot, she remembered.

"I—I can't believe it," she stuttered. She truly couldn't; somehow, her powers protected him instead of destroying him.

He looked at her adoringly. "You saved me," he said softly. "It's over, Zelda. You did it." He squeezed her hand. "Those bastards are gone!"

Her heart sang at his words. It was over. It was over. She was awash with relief, so much that she needed to find an anchor in the emotional storm.

She threw her arms around him and wept. She was free; free to roam, free to sew what and where she wanted. Never would she have to run again. Never would she have to fear again. And he was the one who cut her from those awful chains.

"Thank you," she said tearily, and met his eyes. He deserved the noblest of words for the noblest of actions. "For you have freed me using your blade and courage." She immediately regretted the formality of her words, but hoped that her sincerity was apparent.

He made a soft sound in his throat in response. "Thank you," the baker echoed, pulling her flush to his chest, "for you have freed my heart from loneliness and strife." He nuzzled his face against her hair. She felt the gentle press of his lips at her hairline, and that was it—the dam holding her emotions burst, she held him tighter, and didn't let go as she sobbed.

When their tears subsided, they laid next to each other on the floor and stared at the rafters, exhausted, surrounded by the mess of the storefront. The sun rose over them, blanketing them in light.

"I can't believe I killed some today," she murmured, still trying to process it all.

"Neither can I," he responded. "But it's fitting if you think about it."

She turned her head to look at him. He stared up at the ceiling. The sword laid in his palm, no longer glowing, but most of the rust had faded. "Agahnim killed my family. Yuga killed yours."

She had no idea that Agahnim was behind the death of his family. The scars, yes, but…she should have figured that out. "I'm sorry," she said. "I had no idea."

He gave her an understanding look. "Even then," he supposed, "We didn't kill them outright. Their power led to their ruin."

A previously unperceived feeling of guilt released after his statement. It was true. If Yuga didn't desire the robes, they wouldn't have killed him. Her power was released in self-defense. It was over. They were safe. She hummed in agreement and sunk into the floor, the fatigue weighing on her eyes, and she let them close. She should probably clean their wounds before infection set in. But she needed to rest, just for a moment. She felt the warmth of his hand taking hers into his own. And after a gentle squeeze in response to his affections, she was out.

------

Zelda was awoken by the sounds of someone screaming. She shot upward, winced at the pull of her muscles, and Link barely pushed himself off the floor before someone sprinted through the axe-battered door.

"HELP ME!" It was a woman with dark, curly hair, her belly carrying a tiny swell of life, and she dove behind what was left of Link's display case.

"Cecilia?" Link said in shock.

"DO SOMETHING!" Cecelia barked. Her voice was familiar. She'd heard it before, somewhere. Wait...was she the woman in the woods?

Zelda and Link looked out the door. Two bokoblins tumbled toward the bakery, carrying blunt, nasty-looking sticks as weapons.

Link instantly surged out the door and left his sword behind. "Wait!" Zelda called, plucking it off the ground. The sword vibrated in her hand as soon as she lifted it; light swirled from her fingers and surged into the blade. The rust faded, the metal morphed, and it was fully restored in seconds, gleaming and sharp, the Triforce clearly visible on the blade.

Thank you, your Grace, the sword spoke in her mind. I am renewed for the first time in centuries.

Her eyes widened. Your Grace? What did that mean? Link snatched it out of her hand—"Thanks!"—ran outside, and went to work, culling the bokoblins in moments. They exploded into purple ash.

Cecelia hadn't noticed her yet, too busy hiding from her assailants. Zelda froze. The woman peeked over the counter and shrieked at the sight of her: "A GHOST!!!"

Zelda wanted to run. Not safe—and the woman started to throw things at her in fright. She narrowly dodged a chunk of wood. "HELP!" Two loaves of bread followed suit, and she stepped backward, feeling pressured to leave. "DON'T SUCK OUT MY SOUL!" she cried helplessly.

Link rushed into the room, stood in front of her, and intercepted the blows. Zelda went for the door, but he grabbed her arm and pressed her into his back. He pointed his sword at Cecilia, who dropped a dinner roll at the sight. "Master Link," she said shakily, holding a hand over her belly protectively, "Are they gone?"

"They're gone," he confirmed, and lowered his sword.

"You killed them?" She questioned, in awe.

He nodded. Cecelia, still unnerved, went on her tiptoes and tried to peer over Link's shoulder to see what he hid. "You're being haunted, Master Link!" Cecilia pointed at him, and Zelda recoiled, grabbing the back of his shirt, frightened at being perceived.

"I'm fine!" He said, clearly annoyed, and kept Zelda close.

"But–!"

"Go home!" Link bellowed.

Cecilia seemed to remember herself then, and scampered past them. To Zelda's surprise, she paused in the doorway, and bowed. "Thank you." She gave them one last look and fled.

Once the woman was out of sight, Zelda bolted. He grabbed her wrist before she could make it very far, squeezing the bruises that laid there, and she winced.

"Sorry!" He let go and placed his hands on her arms instead. She glanced at the decrepit front door, at a loss.

Link seemed to read her mind. He held her hands, keeping her in place. "Stay," he said, standing in the chaos of his storefront. She saw the heartbreak in his eyes. "Don't mind her. Don't mind any of them. I will keep you safe. Please, just…stay."

She still felt the need to flee. But she didn’t anymore, did she? It was over. Yuga was gone. And where else could she go? Where else did she want to go?

He squeezed her hands gently, pleadingly. She realized that didn't want to go anywhere without him.

Zelda made her first autonomous choice in years. She chose to stay. She squeezed him in response and let go, looking around the bakery.

The storefront was worse than she thought. His shelves and counters were fractured. There was wood, bricks, and dust everywhere. A huge scorch mark marred the floorboards where Yuga had met his end.

Well, there was plenty of work to do around here. He worked hard to get her back on her feet, so she would do the same. Without any prompting, she began to pick up the rubble. It was somewhat painful. On that note, she should find a rag and fetch some water to clean their wounds.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Staying," she replied, and went looking for a broom and rag. The kitchen was largely undamaged, much to her relief, with his flipped work table and broken flour containers being the only casualties. She assumed the rest of the shop was in a similar state. That was good. In a few days, he could resume operations at a smaller scale, albeit with a dilapidated storefront. The thought filled her with hope.

She opened the pantry door, found a broom, a dustpan, and a rag, shut it, wet the rag using the drinking water bucket next to the cupboard, and returned to the storefront.

Link stood there and watched her, absolutely perplexed as she handed him the rag. Then she began to sweep, starting with the chunks of wood sourced from the front door.

"You're sweeping," he said blankly, watching her create a pile of dirt, wood, and fabric scraps. He looked at his hand and seemed startled by the wet rag resting within it. "What's this for?"

"You’re injured," she answered simply, "and I didn't know if you had bandages. It'll feel good to clean up." Her scrapes had scabbed over throughout the evening, and she didn't have as many cuts as him overall, so she didn't need it. She could handle a few bruises and burns. Besides, doing some work would help her process this, the beginnings of her new life. Life marched on, and she would march along in time, even if it was scary at times.

"But…" he frowned. He was confused as she'd ever seen him. It was endearing.

She smiled at him. "You have a village to feed, don’t you?" She leaned down, picked up a few sizable bit of debris, and tossed them into the dustpan. "And you can’t do that with the storefront in such a state. Let me help."

Link stared at her, just like the day he learned her name as she continued to sweep the floor. She blushed at his expression. This time, instead of standing there and gaping like a fish, he tossed the rag aside, strode across the room, pulled her into his arms, took her face into his hands, and kissed her.

She dropped the broom in shock, swept up in his embrace and the softness of lips, and returned his affections in earnest.

Together, as partners, they worked together to rebuild as the daylight sun shone hopefully on the bakery. Slowly, they healed. The villagers paid the oddly scarred but pleasant couple no mind, and they lived happily, working side by side, stronger in their partnership than by themselves, linked through broken bread, companionship, and the hidden enchantments of the different kinds of love they shared.

They never feared again.

[gust-jar-simulator]

So I’m writing the goddess Din as an active character in this one fic, and I did not expect her to be chatty. That’s Farore, if any of them, but Din just keeps going.

•🌒🔥🎇🔥🌘•

Shadow wanted to scream. Most importantly, he wanted to shove his dad’s head through his massive, hideous desk, then whine at his mother, and then find the Mirror of Dawn.

He couldn’t stay here. Not after reading those notes- soul transfusion? Literal shadow siphoning? Homunculi, ushabti, something called the “golden power” and the son of the green goddess.

He could’ve guessed that Vaati probably didn’t birth him, though Shadow tried not to assume limits about what the man could and couldn’t do. It was a good way to get cursed. If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely sure if Vaati and Ganon were actually married or just weirdly intense about arguing with eachother. Shadow shapeshifted, like Vaati, and he was naturally a bit purple and red, like Ganon. But he also had the smooth, angular face of a Hylian, and he’d never seen one outside of Vaati’s glamors.

The notes said he’d been born of Ganon’s magic and the shadow of a divine hero. And here he already thought the man sucked at naming babies.

But that meant he was part of something, part of someone, part of a family that wasn’t just moblins and stalfos and fae imprisoned in iron cages. A family that breathed air that didn’t belong to his old man. A family that might actually fucking look at him, if they knew he existed.

He was going to break every piece of pottery in this hideous palace, and that’s if Ganon was lucky. A little respect and acknowledgement shouldn’t be that much to ask for, but if he wanted a warrior son so bad Shadow could deliver a fucking war to his-

Well hello there, little firecracker.

Shadow froze in the middle of packing his bag, and blinked. What?

Lynel got your tongue? Strange warmth flickered against his skin, shoulder and back and stomach, dry heat ghosting across his cheek like the stirring of desert wastelands. It was hard to say if the gasp was surprise, or a natural reaction to the feeling of parched earth cracking wide. The laughter came with the faint scent of cinnamon and sandalwood. Surprising for such a vicious little spider. I’m surprised there’s only one of you, but maybe he wouldn’t have survived more. After all, there’s no guarantee he’ll survive you.

“What?” It felt like someone was hugging him, from behind. “Who is this and why are you touching me?”

There comes a time, said the voice of blood and incense, when a son must… disobey his father. You will graduate from pet to brother- and I, little shadow that could, am your proctor.

He bristled, seething in the vague direction of the phantom chest burning through the back of his tunic. “I’m no one’s pet.”

Only pets have to ask nicely to be let outside, hummed heatstroke and shifting sand. Breaking pots isn’t too much different from peeing on the floor, from my perspective. If you’re not a pet, my dear, I suggest you get to work.

“Who are you,” he hissed, “why are you in my head, and why do you even care.”

He had the very clear impression of someone else’s smile curling against his cheek, possessive arms squeezing gently around his waist, and they burned like the sun. Those notes referred to a green goddess. I am the red goddess, serpent and steel, thirst and hunger. And you, my child, are hungry enough to swallow the world. I want to see what you do next. She hummed, slow and thoughtful. Perhaps I might even help, if you fix your attitude.

“I’ve had two gods try to fix my attitude on a daily basis, ma’am, I’m afraid you’ll have to get in line.” Still, his shoulders relaxed, even if his skin felt stretched and too-tight, the strange goddess’s blazing attention edging very near pain. But he was used to pain. He could work with that. She definitely didn’t sound trustworthy, but he would’ve trusted her a lot less if she came at him promising cozy comforts.

Hunger and thirst were something he could believe in.

He sheathed a knife in his boot, summoned an orb of darkness and ran it through a few shapes- spear, sword, shield, bow- and capped it off with the slow, thorny sprout of a rose between his knuckles. A green goddess, he thought, watching false petals slowly unfurl. What would green be like?

A potential sponsor, if you like. One of many.

Black sparks flew off of the flower in a burst of distracted pollen. “Sponsor? Other people know I’m here?”

Of course. Warmth that made his skin go tight, rigid like a scar, slid against the back of his palm. The edges of the rose flickered with red light, sharpening the thorns, strengthening the stem, pushing the petals out until they looked almost plush in the gloom of the Palace of Twilight. He could smell it, thick and heady and strange, lush like some sort of odd fruit. Could you eat real roses?

The goddess wrapped around him like a pleased cat moved again, phantom touch tracing a triangle on the back of his hand, and he found himself listening carefully. We come in many forms, with many proxies. Use them or don’t, as you like. Use me or don’t, as you like. My sisters are very curious about you, yes- but I’m the only one that can reach you here.

That sounded a little too convenient for his tastes. She clearly caught it, because she laughed again, and a dry wind swirled through his suite.

Your father belongs to me. Dust to dust, little shadow- someday he will return to me, whether he likes it or not. And I will clean him, and swaddle him, and deliver him to the world of blood again, as I have done since gods first learned to die. She kissed the top of his head, tugged lightly at the end of his ponytail. Your father belongs to me, but the way of favorites is that I can only have one. Do try not to mention that I said hello. You’re strong, but far from ready for the consequences of that.

[demon-trees]

A golden dream for a young Idol

This isn’t my first time sharing my writing but Its been years since I last wrote anything based on my characters and the future story I want to share one day with a broader audience. I don’t have my experience with world building but I will like to learn and to listen to anyone who has advice. I would like to thing my writing style has changed since the first time I wrote about these characters but i do feel sometimes its at a middle school level. Any please enjoy this drabble i did, and thank you. As the storm came closer to the castle I could feel the thunder shaking the land, under my feet, then to my very core. I stood tall as my captive approached me carefully as if I was still armed but his men made sure to bind my hands and feet with the heaviest of chains that had the addition of a druid of magic. Those damned traitors. 

I have lived my life on the battlefield, I have seen the putrescent view of soldiers for miles, I was the main cause that thousands are dead in the name of our great empire. I am deemed one of the greatest elite generals and soothsayers of the north, some may say of this time; but I have failed my country. During a simple intel mission I was betrayed by my second in command, a newly appointed opulent from a curious noble house. I dared not judge my superior's decision, for who am I to speak when I came from nothing but the earth itself with no name to support myself. Everything I did, I did showing the higher ups that even with nothing that anybody could achieve greatness. I supposed I showed too much of what I'm capable of but no matter, I'll show this man that I will not break, I will not be another prized head on a pike for his army. 

He made no sign to remove his hood but continued to approach me faster with a slightly heavy heel and his head hung low. I suspect to hide his face further from my eyes but the smell of spiced berries and something sweet was overwhelming as he kneeled before me? To say I'm a bit muddled is very generous. Why would a man who waged a war, who had assassinated the royal family, whose throne room was painted with the blood of his enemy and followers, bend the knee to a now former general. His prisoner? He brutally broke the chains that shackled my feet to the ground with his bare hands but hesitated to remove the ones that held my hands together, he then grabbed my foot and placed the tenderest kiss on it. I quickly tried to kick him off of me but he pinned my thigh frimley and threw the other on his shoulder, with my hands still caged above my head he slowly got up and shoved his face in my neck littering it with more of his foul mouth and then his breath finally hitting the shell off my ear. He laughs, a dark and smokey one that causes his shoulders to tremble, then he finally speaks but it wasn’t a voice I wanted to hear. 

“How long has it been since I saw these pretty marks I gave you, hm? A year, no, less perhaps but too long regardless, Songbird. I missed you.”  He then carefully removes his hood to show his face but it's not the same.

My Aurelio, Leo, my friend, courtier, the trickster, the departed.. 

No longer was this the man I knew but something more dangerous, a perilous man. No longer was his hair as golden as the sun instead a sable of soot, his once beautiful viridian lake eyes are the dimmest of amber with flecks of gold, his beautiful sun kissed skin no longer exists replaced by a sickly gray hue, face was sharper, his cheeks more sunken in and his nose hooked and slightly crooked; but what concerns me the mos. t was the right side of his face.

 Eyes.

Eyes that littered the right side of face, the side that was mauled by River’s pet. They glowed an unnatural shade of chartreuse and the pupils burned bright as the morning dawn and in them I saw the reverence of the man I once knew, just barely underneath the surface, scarred and bound just like the coffin he was buried in.

He proceeded to shed his cloak and gently place my legs back on the wooden floor boards. He then draws a sword, certainly too short and thin to be anything but a mere hunting knife, a Baselard . He slashes the restraints and as if I couldn't be anymore astound they dissipate into thin air leaving no trace of them or the magic that binds me here. As I felt my wrists to make sure I was indeed free he attentively took my left hand and kissed my fourth finger, the very finger that had his house ring with a lock of our promise after the war. He held my gaze for what seemed like eternity, I refused to look away from him, not again, and to my very lingering hope I prayed he wouldn't leave this moment. He nipped my wrist, then again at my forearm before he pulled me into a startling embrace. I felt him snake his arm around my lower back while his hand cradled my head against his chest while I stood there with my bare arms still at my sides. How could I touch someone so affectionately now knowing he may be the reason we were at war in the first place. All of the bodies, all the blood, the lying, the vengeful cries and screams of mothers sending their children to useless strive.

 I pulled back readying my leave but he refused to let me go. Instead he pushed me back against the cold castle wall, his hand on my backside pushing me closer to his dead warmth while the other forcefully grabbed my chin and dared to put his vile mouth on mine. The struggle was harsh as he continued to touch me trying to lower my morale but I can’t give in; I shouldn't. I placed my trembling hands on his chest attempting to free myself but without breaking the    osculate he grabbed my hands again and moved them to his hair, I pulled,hard, he moaned and my legs buckled under me. He pulled away for a brief moment to grab my hips and signaling me to jump instead I headbutted him.

He staggered a bit but enough for me to drop and sweep his feet under him landing oh so gracefully on his ass. I ran to the otherside of the room to grab my rapier but he grabbed my waist and swiftly picked me up while laughing? This man, no, this absolute sadistic bastard, had the gaul to laugh at me! 

“You utter nauseating sea urchin put me down! Now!” I screamed. 

“Now love, be careful how loud you scream here, i don’t like the idea of the men outside hearing your pretty voice.” He’s enjoying this! I can feel that fox grin from behind. 

“I’m getting really tired of people grabbing me and telling me what to do, Aurelio put me down!”

He tossed me onto a ghastly large bed and loomed over me. The sudden heaviness of my chest has nothing compared to the ungodly heat between my legs and pants. I hate him, truly I do. He moved to kiss me again but I slapped him hoping it will prove that I am no mood to to fool around but this horrible man is laughing at me again and stares down at me at whatever emotion hides behind cursed eyes. 

Hunger? No, something more feral and not quite. I shivered 

“Have I ever told you that I find you extremely arousing when you fight back, so please don’t hold back on my account. Fight me, scream at me, dig your nails into my flesh until you have your fill because once you're done it's my turn to have you scream for me. So you better start singing Songbird.”  He flashed a wicked grin that shouldn't be attractive. 

Damn him 

“Aurelio don’t you dare! I expect answers from this instant!” I glared up at him as best as I could but in my current state it only does so much. His cheshire smile slowly disappeared as he begrudgingly got up and layed next to me. He pulled me into his arms again but loose enough for me to leave if I wanted to. He heaved a heavy sigh and finally looked at me.

“What would you like to know, Amaya?”  He asked as lightning flashed and completely engulfed the room with its light and once again the thunder rolled in and shook everything, and within the hour myself.

That night I had the gruesome realization that nothing will ever be the same. I held onto Leo as he hushed me to a somber sleep but nothing had prepared us as the dawn approached and we had seen the high mage standing at the gates. 

“Leo, love its time.” I said softly he looked at me so miserable, crushing me into our last embrace. 

“You don’t have to do this, to hell with all of them Amaya really! We can leave this realm, don’t leave me again when I just got back, please.”  His rejected face will forever haunt me but i made my choice

“Leo you promised me, it's my fault this happened. If I need to die I want it to be by you please, it won’t work if I do it myself.” I begged as the mage came closer to the door. I held onto my almost husband as he choked out a scream and then a feeling overcame me

Ice and warmth

As I fell into his arms I could hear the faint sound of screams, a spell then a half promise.

“Idol! Sliver is here! Let’s go mija before traffic hits!”  An older man says as he looks at me?

Idol what an interesting name 

I like it 

[chainsaw-raven]

Happy belated wbw 💖

Tell me about your werewolves. How do they work? Do they have an origin story or myth? How did your chars get involved with them (if that's not too spoily)? Can they turn people or is it just a bloodline thing? Anything else you want to share?

(Yes this is late and yes I am going to be extremely dramatic about it)

Wolves

Many moons ago, In a land lost to time, At The  place where your mothers blood is from and her daughters bones will yearn for, there were woods. Thick, dense woods, with trees as broad as water wells, and as old as the young earth was

. A wood were the twisted tree branches towered high, intertwining into green cathedral ceilings.  A wood where the leaves blocked out the sun. An eternal eclipse to greet anyone who ventured in to far in. 

And Like in any self-respecting  wood, there were wolves. Great big wolves, larger than the greatest of your neighbors Danes. (The ones he keeps on teatherd to his yard by chains staked deep into the earth.)

Fully Unlike the wolves you’d meet in a forest tomorrow should you try and run away, for these were Wolves with silver coats, golden eyes,  and iron butcher knifes for Claws. 

These wolves were Friends of the fae. Some say they were fae. For With each full moon the wolves would turn from hungry beasts to heart-achingly beautiful men and women. Taller than mortals, with clearest of completions. Only with circumstance would you see how their hungry eyes held galaxies, and flashed gold in firelight. But by then it would be to late, your heart would already be breaking its way to broken. 

The wolves were swift and cruel. Ruthless and reliable when it came to revenge. They had few rules, but could be counted on to blind those who stole an eye. To break the hearts of those who broke theirs.

Creatures of the wood lived in balence if not peace. The vampyres, and the  fae, the wolves and the wayverns. The courts kept to themselves in peacetimes, warred when things went astray. Redrew lines they felt like crossing, and built up boundaries over time. There was a way of things that marched steadily on with each sunrise and sun sent.

That was, of course, until men marched the shores one fateful day at dawn. 

Men who stripped trees, set snares and sparked fires. Men who smelled of blood and ash. A musk of sweat and smoke. 

Eventually the men brought over their women and their wives, mothers carrying crying cubs. Humans is what they called themselves. 

All the creatures quickly learned that Men are a violent people and Feared the way their dark, wet eyes followed prey. Hatred brewed in the wake of human hunters arrows. 

They wanted the wolves silver pelts, their iron claws. They prized the golden eyes and bone white teeth. But no wolf could away it’s coat. No wolf was willing to throw away it’s sight. And so the humans hunted to meet the demands of desire. They’d have what the wanted for and wouldn’t have any other way.

The wolves though hunted, thought themselves safe. TThe only way to wound a wolf was with its claws. The only way to kill a wolf was with it teeth. Humans claws were small and brittle, their teeth short and dull, how dangerous could they be? The wolves sang as the barked laughs amoungst themselves. Oh how foolish they were. They forget themselves. Here would be their downfall for the wolves thought wrong.

You see, wolves only die in war. There’s no time to dig a grave during battle. Wolves are practical creatures: they leave their dead to rot.

A human cub (called a “child”) screamed like death when it found a Skeletal memory down stream. 

It’s mother yelled for the men, and they ran into the woods, spears barred and torched/ burning.

They found a wolf”s teeth. They plucked its claws. Iron didn’t burn a humans hand like it did fae. Humans didn’t respect the dead like a forest did. Humans couldn’t leave a thing to Rest In Peace for very long.

The humans switched sharpened stones on their spears for teeth. Tipped their arrows with talons.

The humans hunted the wolves once more, and soon success stepped up to meet them. 

By dawn seven wolves laid dead. 

By dusk seven pelts were laid out with leather.

Seven dead. A mother laying  next to her two pups. All three still. 

The image burned itself like a wood print behind the lids of golden eyes.

They wolves learned fear fast from them on. A hunger for rabbit quickly replaced with a taste for revenge.

The wolves planned and plotted as the moon waxed and wane. Until one sunrise after the blood moon was a full and blooming stain in the sky, seven beautiful humans walked into the villages, and were met with open arms. Their hearts open and wide. 

A hunter may forget a face, but a wolf always remember the smell of a foe.

Later, when the humans told this tale to their young, as warning of what’s in the woods, they’d christen these seven werewolves.

The Werewolves were found the hunters who had slain their kin easily. Though they were in no hurry to kill the hunters. It would be to kind of a fate for these monsters. 

No, The werewolves were after each hunter’s eldest child

.

The wolves have few rules.

Rule one: never harm a helpless pup.

But the humans had killed theirs in cold blood first. Besides, the eldest of each brood wernt shy of adulthood by very much. Some had already killed. 

Each of seven werewolves kissed a hunters heir. 

Each of the hunters heir fell madly in love. 

The youths spent their day with wolffish 

loves. Breathing hot breath while sweet nothings greeted ears. Fingers and legs intertwined as the human hearts bloated big. Cracking ever so slightly as the wolves pushed and pulled at the seams. If only those poor doomed souls knew the taste on their lips was the sweet kiss of death . 

If only the humans knew that the seven kissed would soon be the seven driven mad. The seven driven mad who’d all be dead in three weeks time.  

The wolves left as the sun rose again. Their loves had only had a day and night to be enchanted, but enchanted they were. The werewolves walked into the wood, leaving only a trail of footprints giving way to the fast marks of muddy paws in their wake. 

The rising sun should have blinded anyone who dared to watch them leave but the Severn heirs refused to let their hearts break, and followed the trails into the wood. Blinded by the blaring sun and deafened by their beating hearts, they would search for their lost loves. 

The young hearts were dealing with powerful magic, a type of spell that only can be broken with sacrifice of the greatest kind. The young humans hearts were foolish and naïve , easy prey to the old and wise Wolf”s mind.

The wolves knew the human heirs would follow their hearts into the the woods. The wolves a knew the heirs wouldn’t be coming back

The humans romed the woods hunting for their runaway hearts, but wolves were trained at skirting hunters. 

they kept out of sight, as the humans ravaged in the woods. Branches pulling hair, brambles ripping clothes. Grass stained and muddy, minds nearly lost, with hearts already broken. 

The human heirs didn’t care for anyone or anything now. What they were searching for was long gone, and soon they’d be too. As they dug up roots and snatched at leaves they forget to eat. Forgot to drink. 

Until one by one, each heir fell and found they couldn’t get up and hey each fell asleep for the very last time. Falling fast into An eternal slumber they’d never wake from, as their souls rose to join the stars, and their bodies tuned to dust one more.

 Revenge is a sweet tasting thing when hungry. The meat of a broken heart can fill up a ravished stomach.

The wolves feasted well that night.

~ taken off the wip draft

[7r0773r]

Upstream: Selected Essays by Mary Oliver

In the beginning I was so young and such a stranger to myself I hardly existed. I had to go out into the world and see it and hear it and react to it, before I knew at all who I was, what I was, what I wanted to be. Wordsworth studied himself and found the subject astonishing. Actually what he studied was his relationship to the harmonies and also the discords of the natural world. That's what created the excitement. (Upstream, pp. 3-4)

***

Do you think there is anything not attached by its unbreakable cord to everything else? Plant your peas and your corn in the field when the moon is full, or risk failure. This has been understood since planting began. The attention of the seed to the draw of the moon is, I suppose, measurable, like the tilt of the planet. Or, maybe not—maybe you have to add some immeasurable ingredient made of the hour, the singular field, the hand of the sower. (Upstream, p. 5)

***

Attention is the beginning of devotion. (Upstream, p. 8)

***

But first and foremost, I learned from [Walt] Whitman that the poem is a temple—or a green field—a place to enter, and in which to feel. Only in a secondary way is it an intellectual thing—an artifact, a moment of seemly and robust wordiness—wonderful as that part of it is. I learned that the poem was made not just to exist, but to speak—to be company. It was everything that was needed, when everything was needed. I remember the delicate, rumpled way into the woods, and the weight of the books in my pack. I remember the rambling, and the loafing—the wonderful days when, with Whitman, I tucked my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time. (My Friend Walt Whitman, p. 12)

***

In the mystery and the energy of loving, we all view time's shadow upon the beloved as wretchedly as any of Poe's narrators. We do not think of it every day, but we never forget it: the beloved shall grow old, or ill, and be taken away finally. No matter how ferociously we fight, how tenderly we love, how bitterly we argue, how pervasively we berate the universe, how cunningly we hide, this is what shall happen. In the wide circles of timelessness, everything material and temporal will fail, including the manifestation of the beloved. In this universe we are given two gifts: the ability to love, and the ability to ask questions. Which are, at the same time, the fires that warm us and the fires that scorch us. This is Poe's real story. As it is ours. And this is why we honor him, why we are fascinated far past the simple narratives. He writes about our own inescapable destiny. (The Bright Eyes of Eleonora: Poe's Dream of Recapturing the Impossible, p. 91)

***

There is a rumor of total welcome among the frosts of the winter morning. Beauty has its purposes, which, all our lives and at every season, it is our opportunity, and our joy, to divine. Nothing outside ourselves makes us desire to do so; the questions, and the striving toward answers, come from within. The field I am looking at is perhaps, twenty acres altogether, long and broad. The sun has not yet risen but is sending its first showers over the mountains, a kind of rehearsal, a slant light with even a golden cast. I do not exaggerate. The light touches every blade of frozen grass, which then burns as a particular as well as part of the general view. The still-upright weeds have become wands, encased in a temporary shirt of ice and light. Neither does this first light miss the opportunity of the small pond, or the groups of pine trees. And now: enough of silver, behold the pink, even a vague, unsurpassable flush of pale green. It is the performance of this hour only, the dawning of the day, fresh and ever new. This is to say nothing against afternoons, evenings, or even midnight. Each has its portion of the spectacular. But dawn—dawn is a gift. Much is revealed about a person by his or her passion, or indifference, to this opening of the door of day. No one who loves dawn, and is abroad to see it, could be a stranger to me.

Poe claimed he could hear the night darkness as it poured, in the evening, into the world. I remember this now and think, reversing the hour but not the idea, that I will hear some sound of the morning as it settles upward. What I hear, though, is no such sprawling and powerful anthem, as it would have to be, but the rustling of a flock of snow buntings, high and wild in the cold air, like seeds, rushing toward me, and then away. Seeds that sing. I see, on this morning, nothing else, or nothing else moving. Fox tracks are ahead of mine, dimpling the frost, but the fox is nowhere in view. (Wordsworth's Mountain, pp. 109-10)

***

What Wordsworth praised thereafter was more than the arrangement of concretions and vapors into appreciable and balanced landscapes; it was, also, the whirlwind. The beauty and strangeness of the world may fill the eyes with its cordial refreshment. Equally it may offer the heart a dish of terror. On one side is radiance; on another is the abyss. (Wordsworth's Mountain, p. 113)

***

Through these woods I have walked thousands of times. For many years I felt more at home here than anywhere else, including our own house. Stepping out into the world, into the grass, onto the path, was always a kind of relief. I was not escaping anything. I was returning to the arena of delight. I was stepping across some border. I don't mean just that the world changed on the other side of the border, but that I did too. Eventually I began to appreciate—I don't say this lightly—that the great black oaks knew me. I don't mean they knew me as myself and not another—that kind of individualism was not in the air—but that they recognized and responded to my presence, and to my mood. They began to offer, or I began to feel them offer, their serene greeting. It was like a quick change of temperature, a warm and comfortable flush, faint yet palpable, as I walked toward them and beneath their outflowing branches. (Winter Hours, p. 151)

[noirflms]

DO YOU FEAR — gojo satoru

you make him ponder, you make him wonder. and it is you who make him fear.

do you fear anything, satoru?

gojo satoru still remembers the way these words had rolled of your tongue like sweet nectar. you had asked this with eyes flaming with curiosity, he could see you were pondering if the strongest you know of feared anything. your voice still rings in the back of his mind, it is raw, honeyed, it brings him to the ground, sets him in reality.

no, i don’t fear anything. i am the strongest after all.

and he had answered then, without a thought, no second glances over it or anything, unhesitating, he spoke as soon as he had conjured the answer in his mind. he remembers the way your lips had broken into a smile, it was somber yet soft, warm and gentle.

he wondered what could have been if he had kissed those lips someday. how soft they could have possibly been and did they taste sweet? because you always had this scent so sweet lingering on you; your lips must taste the same then.

“what are you thinking about, mr. gojo?” your voice again. it ground him, it shackles him back to reality. he turns to face you, blindfold discarded in the comfort of his office, icy eyes taking you in. the face of yours that is cascaded with the golden glow of the sun, it dawns on you — and the image burns within his vision.

“nothing.” satoru answers. you were breathtaking in any way possible. you were divine. you were everything he wished was his. you were all that he has ever yearned for.

you are a sweet fruit he wishes to bite into, until the sweet and saccharine juices have dripped and settled onto his tongue, until he has finally washed his hunger, he wishes to feast on this fruit. but you were of the forbidden one, only the fortunate could have you — and he was not so fortunate.

and as unfortunate he was, his students were to. shibuyu had turned into a nightmare, blood and deaths painted those walls, there was no way out. gojo watches, he has fought a war before, and he had fought well, but it is only this time his heart races not is excitement but in fear.

fear that consists of many things, he fears of lives, young and dead, he fears of souls that he has stayed long with — he fears of losing you.

“don’t you die on me, satoru.” you had said. still the most warmest smile plastered onto your face, it irked him for it never faded, it always stayed. even when geto died, even when riko died and even when all that he had took time to build was crumbling, yet he doesn’t hate you, for you were smiling at him, pulling him out of the dark, helping him climb out of the trenches of despair.

and so he smiled the same, warm and big hands caressing your face, “i won’t even dream about it.” gojo answered, and your gaze softens and you too wonder if you kissed his lips would they be as sweet as the delicious and sugary delicacies he eats and you too wonder if his lips truly as so sickly sweet.

his touch stays as he doesn’t let go, but it falters hesitantly. he gives you one last smile before he walks again into war, all you could see of him, was the back that has carried many, the back of the strongest sorcerer that is. you would have laughed in high-school but now as he walks with a head held high, you truly believe he might just be the strongest.

you love her, satoru.

he truly does. he loves you. gojo truly adores you, his heart belongs to you. even in a crowded room, his eyes would always look for you. he would always wait for you. and as he returns from the bindings of the prison, he doesn’t return to warm arms, even if he looks for them, he is breathless and he fears.

“where is she?” he chokes. tears. the strongest did not cry but he still has a heart, enough to hold someone dear and shed a few tears. gojo stares at shoko, she to has been lost, she has seen death and murder, she had cured and she had let souls rest in peace, but here as she too stands before satoru, she feels her heart squeeze.

“she is . . . breathing.” like a warm prayer shoko ends as soon as she had begun. she let’s him through, she let’s him see. and she sees satoru fear; he feared to face loss again.

and as beautiful as you has always been, you lay in a slumber, your heart still beating, you lay breathing. you looked divine, so ethereal in this deep sleep. satoru hums, hand reaching out to caress your face, you are there, yet not. there still sits that saccharine smile on your face, even if you might be standing before death.

and this time his wonder is proved true, when he cannot take it anymore, and he sets his lips on yours. sweet. you taste sweet. soft lips pressed against his, you are warm, you are gentle, and he aches, yearning for you to awaken.

do you fear anything, satoru?

and it rings again in the mind of his. and maybe this time – only if you could ever hear his answer – his answer might have made you grin your warm smile. for gojo satoru finally had something to fear, even the strongest could have something to fear, a weakness.

so, gojo satoru feared. feared that he might not be able to hold you again. to see you smile again, to hear your melodious laughter echo through the hallways, to fearing that your warms eyes could never stare back into his. to fearing your touch would be forgotten, to fearing that you would but turn memory.

he finally accepts, he let’s it sink in, letting it bite into his flesh and ingrain itself into his mind and soul. gojo satoru finally had something to fear.

i do. i fear losing you.

but only if you could hear what he had to say.

satoru angst is at peak then why should i stay behind ‼️‼️🗣️ and thank you so much for a 700 followers ⭐️⭐️

NOIRFLMS 2024 ! all rights reserved - plagiarism is a crime , do not translate my works without permission.

[tallysgreatestfan]

From mischievous girl wanting nothing more than fitting in to unhinged eco terrorist.

Made yet another Uglies Series playlist

More details on the song and why I chose them under the cut, because its really ended up being a lot of songs.

Scars To Your Beautiful - Alessia Cara

She just wants to be, beautiful She goes, unnoticed she knows, no limits She craves, attention she praises, an image She prays to be, sculpted by the sculptor

2. Fallen Fruit - Lorde

To the ones who came before us All the golden ones who were lifted on a wing We had no idea the dreams we had were far too big Far too big

And we will walk together (We will walk)

3. Carnival Hearts - Kayla Diamond

In this abandoned amusement park We come to life when it turns dark We're just carnival hearts You and me (You and me) In a swirl of flashing lights We're the lost ones in the night Got our fingers intertwined Wild and free (Wild and free)

4. Breaking Point - Fantaziser

(feels nicely fitting cyberpunk and dystopian)

5. State of Seduction - Digital Daggers

We wanted freedom, now there's no turning back 'Cause we're here in the light And I'm here on your side

6. Bad Blood - Bastille

We were young and drinking in the park There was nowhere else to go And you said you always had my back Oh, but how were we to know? That these are the days that bind you together, forever And these little things define you forever, forever

7. Revolution - The Score

Wake me up, the time is now (O-oh) Can you hear the drumming? (O-oh) There's a revolution coming! Wild things that turn me on Drag my dark into the dawn (O-oh) Can you hear the drumming? (O-oh) There's a revolution coming!

8. Bloody Shirt - Bastille

Get out, get gone! This town is only gonna get worse Get out, get gone! This town is only gonna eat you

9. Team - Lorde

We live in cities you'll never see on-screen Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things Livin' in ruins of a palace within my dreams And you know, we're on each other's team

10. True Friends - Bring Me The Horizon

(Tally and Shays relationship)

I wouldn't hold my breath if I was you 'Cause I'll forget, but I'll never forgive you Don't you know, don't you know? True friends stab you in the front

11. Corner - Blue Stahli

(feels fitting for her relationship with Dr Cable and the Cities survilance)

Feel me in the corner, oh, beside your mouth Feel me in the inside of the faintest trace of sound It's fire underwater, breathing while you drown Feel me in the saturation when the sun burns out

'Cause I am the one inside you And I am the one (Inside your veins) 'Cause I am the one inside you Over and over I'm here again

12. Nature Girl - Cryoshell

There was a girl A very strange, enchanted girl They say she wandered very far Very far, over land and sea A little shy and sad of eyes

13. In Flames - Digital Daggers

(Tally and Shays friends to enemies again)

Love, be my villain, we're one and the same Got a heart full of bullets 'cause we got good aim Come lay down beside me, be savaged and tamed You boil in my veins, we won't ever change

With your kiss on my skin And this mess that we're in

14. Law Abiding Citizen - Karl Casey

(again sinister cyberpunk sounds fitting for a dystopia)

15. After Party - Air Traffic Controller

(the New Pretty Parties)

Everybody's looking my way Don't know what for Like I'm not supposed to be here Don't know the code You can't choose where you come from Only where you go

16. Disturbia - Rihanna

Put on your brake lights You're in the city of wonder Ain't gon' play nice Watch out, you might just go under Better think twice Your train of thought will be altered So if you must falter, be wise

Your mind's in disturbia, it's like the darkness is the light Disturbia, am I scarin' you tonight? Your mind's in disturbia, ain't used to what you like Disturbia, disturbia

17. Stasis Mind - Succession Studios

(It feels so disturbing and dystopian, just fitting for the Pretties mind altered state)

18. I Am Shell I Am Bone - Gazelle Twin

(being a Special, not quite human anymore)

Made of iron made of stone I am shell and I am bone Teach the Mother's skull away I'll tell them now I'll tell you all

We have no tongue We have no choice

19. Lost My Mind - Alice Kristiansen

(Tallys messed up relationship with Shay again)

At least not alone, not anymore Not since I found what I never went looking for And now you're in my head I must've lost my mind

You're the scars on my skin, you're the past I don't wanna erase You're the words on my lips that have left but I still seem to taste Maybe I'm just too tired to keep lying

20. Pyrokinesis - 7Chariot

(THE Tally/Shay song)

Pyrokinesis we hurt each other without trying The way you say the things you say they start a little spark Ignite this while we're all so highly flammable heart

I smell something burning We're melting down tonight

You're setting me on fire I don't want to fight it You don't need a lighter, you're a flame Drowning myself in water Only makes it harder Hard for me to keep myself away

21. Warfare - Katie Garfield

Runnin' through the dark, nowhere left to hide Battle lines are drawn, taste the smoke and fire

22. Savages - Marina

(after the Battle of Diego, when Tally realizes just how capable of evil humanity still is. The main question of the book series.)

One man can build a bomb; another, run a race To save somebody's life and have it blow up in his face I'm not the only one who finds it hard to understand I'm not afraid of God, I am afraid of man

Is it running in our blood, is it running in our veins? Is it running in our genes, is it in our DNA? Humans aren't gonna behave as we think we always should Yeah, we can be bad as we can be good

23. Sum of Our Parts - Mary Lambert

This is my skin that I've never fit in I was born the queen of nowhere This is how it begins I wonder is this your life Were you raised in deep water Are they pushing you down Are you gonna push harder

I want to know whoever broke you I want to know how you can grow bigger Don't go looking for some kind of rescue You are the only one who can save you

24. Don't Save Me - Chxrlotte

The wasteland never ends and it's killing me Wait and count to ten, but I'll never be Able to live, I can't seem to breathe I'll die fading carefully so don't save me

Standing on the edge, it's darker now And it's in my head, I can't hear a sound Facing the storm, I'm cast out at sea I'll drown eventually so don't save me

25. Ship in a Bottle - Fin Argus

You can fit everything you know In a bottle for you to show Pick your brain apart and put it in (pick your brain apart) And build it again with needles and pins

26. Youngblood - 5 Seconds of Summer

(I just had to. Tally/Shay again)

Remember the words you told me "Love me till the day I die"? Surrender my everything 'Cause you made me believe you're mine Yeah, you used to call me "baby" Now, you're callin' me by name (Mm) Takes one to know one, yeah You beat me at my own damn game

You push and you push and I'm pullin' away Pullin' away from ya I give and I give and I give and you take Give and you take

27. A Dangerous Thing - Aurora

(Tally/Shay. They won, but they still have years until they fix their relationship)

Something about you is soft like an angel And something inside you is violence and danger I knew from the moment we met, you are a dangerous thing When you are with me, I feel like I'm living And living besides you can be unforgiving I knew from the very first step, you are a dangerous thing

28. Overgrown - machineheart

(the moment Tally climbs out of the Special Circumstances facilities and reclaims her own humanity)

Reaching deep into the soil I find I'm stirring awake a fury Maybe I'm the only one who survived Crawled out of the dark and into the light As I turn my face and look to the sky A tear in my eye is forming

Shaking off all those heavy chains Now I will find my own way

Turning the ground underneath me to show what I am Pushing and breaking my way from the hand of the man

29. Lion - Saint Mesa

(Tally, twenty years later, preventing humanity from killing itself again, deadly and powerful and wise)

(Hummm) You're like an Empress (Hummm) You've got fire running down your cheeks (Hummm) You burn everything you see (Hummm) Gold are your fingers (Hummm) Leaving traces everywhere you go (Hummm) Diamonds in your skin, my blood flows

[Chorus] Bring the lion out Bring the, bring the lion out Bring the lion out Bring the, bring the lion out

[leonbloder]

Thin Spaces & The Heaviness of Glory

When I was a kid, I used to have this recurring dream where I was in a clearing in a forest, and the world was in slow motion.  I saw leaves slowly falling to the ground and insects buzzing placidly around me.

And the air itself was thick.  It felt like I could feel it surrounding me, and it was more difficult to move through.  I wasn't panicked, though.  It felt wonderful.  I could breathe more deeply, and what I breathed in smelled like flowers and trees.

That clearing was beautiful.  I can see it still.  And sometimes, I will have that dream again, though not as much as when I was young.

Stumbling into that clearing in my dream, I would think to myself while dreaming and after waking, "This must be heaven."

There have been times when I have stepped into clearings like the one from my dream or into other kinds of spaces that felt different.  

One of those spaces was on the steps of a church in Colorado Springs, where I used to ride my bike in seventh grade.  I would sit on those steps to watch the sun begin to set behind the mountains.  The air felt thick then, too.

Or a field behind Christ Church Cathedral in Oxford, England. And a rest area in New Mexico.  Also, the porch of my cabin at a Benedictine monastery in California.

The other day I was reading John Koenig's Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows and found this entry that prompted this reflection:

wildred adj. feeling the haunted solitude of extremely remote places--a clearing in the forest, a windswept field of snow, a rest area in the middle of nowhere--which makes you feel like you've just intruded on a conversation that had nothing to do with you, where even the gravel beneath your feet and the trees overhead are holding themselves back to a pointed, inhospitable silence.  

Koenig creates words that describe emotions that we don't have words for.  In this case, he perfectly captures the feeling I felt in my dreams and countless other spaces where the air was heavy and felt... otherworldly.

There's a word in Hebrew that corresponds to wildred.  It's the word kovod, which essentially means the "heaviness of glory."  The moments in Scripture where kovod is mentioned generally are connected to people who experience the glory of God in an unlikely space.

Moses and the burning bush come to mind, or the angels appear to the shepherds on the night of Jesus' birth.  It might sound like this in English: "the glory of the Lord shone round about..."

Come to think of it, all of the places where I've experienced kovod were also marked by a certain kind of light---the "golden hour" of dusk, perhaps, or the dawn of a new day.  

And every single time, I could feel something different in the air around me.  I was breathing in glory with every breath I took.  

I think those moments and spaces intersect our reality with God's.  They are "thin spaces" where the distance between heaven and earth is made closer for some reason, and we just happen to be there to see it.  

Those moments are when I have felt in my bones that God is near.  I wish they would last forever, but they don't.  The moments fade, and all that I am left with is the memory of them, which is powerful enough.  

You may have felt something similar in your life.  Or maybe you long to feel it.  Here's all the wisdom I have on this:

When I experienced those spaces, I  have also been ready to do so.  I've been sad and sorry.  I've been filled with peace.  I've been praying to experience God.  I've been actively surrendering because I couldn't think of anything else to do.  

Or I felt so broken I didn't think my life or world would ever be better.

I'm learning that the mystery of God's presence is elusive and frustrating but also unbelievable and transformative.  It's both near and far away.  

And sometimes the presence of God is just around the next bend, through those trees a few paces away, on the side of the road you're on, or right in front of you.  

May you discover the thin places around you.  May you discover the overwhelming heaviness of God's glory and know that you are well met in whatever state you come to God.  

And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you now and always. Amen.  

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Size Switch AU)

What if Alexander and Natalie suddenly switched sizes?

This is just a fun little one off to explore these two and their dynamic a bit more. I promised you guys this, forever ago, for hitting a new follower milestone and now it’s finally here! 

I have to thank a million times over @not-a-space-alien, @kitn-underfoot, @sizechaun, & @littlescaryinternetguy for beta reading for me and giving me some amazing feedback! 

**Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list**

This is a size switch AU story of Alexander, a well-dressed, silver-tongued miniature person, who’s highly intelligent (perhaps, too much for his own good). He has aspirations of becoming the world’s tiniest lawyer. When he meets Natalie, will she help or hinder his progress?

Set in a universe where miniature people (around 5 inches tall) are kept as pets for the rich, this story follows one very tiny, academically minded man, who, after enduring abuse at the hands of the ignorant humans around him, becomes hell bent on finding a way to fight this oppression through the legal system. Will his case win out? He has to get humans to listen first. When he finds himself out allied with one, will she finally be the first to hear his message?

A mixture of fluff and angst, mature (Language, adult themes and violence) but SFW. This story uses the pet trope as a means to explore themes of overcoming trauma and fighting back against abuse, as well as learning to love oneself.

Word Count: 9,264 Read Time: Approx. 70 mins

CW: adult language, angst, fear play, dehumanization, non-sexual nudity

Tag list: @gatlily; @grbene; @patrocolus3; @beautifulunknowntrash; @titan-god-420; @andraimeide; @themarlo; @cup-o-chai; @lucentbliss; @raccoontoaster, @tolsizedlove; @not-a-space-alien; @thegodmother007; @honey-olive; @kitn-underfoot; @bittykimmy13; @littlescaryinternetguy; @pr-fae; @theangelofdusk; @sizechaun; @rubeau-art; @awkwardgtace; @jae-from-discord; @narrans; 

_____________________

A Fraction of Justice: Not all that Blisters (Size Switch AU) 

[Alexander’s POV]

I was lying prone on my stomach, deep in a tantalizing sleep. It was, in fact, some of the best sleep I’d gotten in some time. Natalie and I had been burning the candle at both ends helping her prepare for an upcoming exam. While she had retired to her bedroom around 3 am, I’d insisted on staying in the living room, surrounded by open tomes, and a tablet for doing research. I’d wanted to master one last sample case study before getting some rest myself. 

Evidently, I’d passed out in that endeavor, no doubt splayed out on my stomach, lying on top of her open textbook. Not much for a bed in the comfort department, but nevertheless, come dawn, I was out cold. On a different morning than this one, I could imagine a better rested Natalie rubbing the sleep from her eyes and shuffling into the living room, ignited with inviting, golden, morning sun, only to wake me with her bemused chuckling, finding me unconscious, curled up on the surface of her book. 

Instead, this morning was distinctly different. 

There were no peals of uncontrolled laughter or the caressing of giant fingers on the crown of my head to wake me from my dreamless sleep. No, I was bolted awake, instead, as I shuffled my leg slightly. One small shift of my weight and I was greeted with a sudden, heart stopping CRASH of a hardback colliding with the wood floor beneath. Had I been more awake, I would have questioned how on earth the shifting of my meager few ounces could have possibly made such a reaction happen. Since my brain did not have the capacity for such critical thinking in its unexpected and sudden state of consciousness, I instead grunted, snapping open my eyes as I pressed my palms into the ground beneath me, and lifted my head. 

Like encountering a sudden step down when walking, my hands were jarred by feeling a variance of textures beneath them. Instead of the consistent, flat surface of the page I was expecting, my hands rested on the rough edges of paper, and the fabric of the couch, which seemed suddenly much more pliable beneath my weight than I’d previously remembered. Similarly, as feeling returned to the rest of my body, I was shocked to find myself lying on what felt like all manner of other books and fabric. 

Incapable of understanding what I was feeling, my eyes adjusted to the painfully bright light of the unfiltered morning sun. I squinted, shielding my sensitive irises and blinking rapidly. Slowly, the world came into sharp focus. 

Why is the arm of the couch so close? I could’ve sworn when I’d surrendered to sleep I’d been at least two feet (in human measurements) from the wall it created compared to my little body. Now, my nose was so near to bumping it I could feel the tickle of its fibers on the sensitive nerve endings. In fact, as I raised my trunk to greet this corner of the living room (the same space in which I’d first found myself when Natalie had accidentally brought me inside) everything seemed somehow different? Smaller? Was I experiencing delirium from pushing myself too hard these last few days? Tucking my left leg under me to try and sit up, I felt all manner of obstacles shifting beneath my weight. That’s the first time I looked down. I couldn’t believe what my eyes were undeniably showing me. 

I was not just lying on the singular textbook. No. The pages that used to stretch on and on around me, each about four times as large as my whole body, were now dwarfed by my outstretched palms. Two hands side by side could cover the surface of a page with ease. My heart stopped. No way!!! This couldn’t be possible. It was simply, logically, out of the question. Wasn’t it?!? Beneath my legs, other books, the tablet, the cushions of the couch, all of these were touched by my outstretched form. My entirely nude form. 

Then, down below on the surface of the textbook, a wrinkled scrap of multicolored fabric caught my eye. Reaching down, I pinched it between a thumb and forefinger, raising it to eye level. Adrenaline coursed through my nervous system as blood pounded in between my ears. It was undeniable. I laid it out in the palm of my hand. It was ripped apart along all the seams, but the front was still somewhat in tact. That damn unicorn decal, sickeningly cheery as ever, was now half the size of my thumbnail. 

Somehow, inextricably I was…. Human sized. 

My heart soared as I bounded to my feet, rocked by this completely different perspective. Everything was so pathetically small. As I stood, I couldn’t help ducking my head, as though I was large enough to collide with the ceiling itself. 

To any human, I was now unremarkably normal. To me, I felt like a giant. Furniture that had once towered over me like empty monuments of wood, fabric and metal to the prestige and supposed superiority of humankind, now seemed laughably unimpressive. As I turned my head, I could take in so much more of the room at once, with effortless ease. Gazing back down at the mess of clutter left scattered across the couch, I bent at the waist and with a thrilling rush, actually picked up a book for the first time in my life. 

Cradling its spine in my right hand, I leafed through pages with nothing but a tiny bit of pressure from my fingers. My face felt warm as my heart thundered away. The tome I couldn’t have pushed an inch if I’d put my back into it, was now an insignificant weight in my palm. I felt a catch in my throat. Was this what it felt like to occupy a world that was built to accommodate you? 

I turned over my shoulder to look at the potted rose bush, still sitting before the window by the front door, just as Natalie had set it down that day I was tangled in its branches. Setting the book down, I limped over until I was standing before it. The whole plant that I had once hidden inside of, now barely came up past my thighs. It was disorienting seeing these things from such a different perspective. So many tiny details of the plant faded and blurred from this new vantage point. I made my way back to the couch, sitting down on it properly for the first time in my life, I picked up a book again. Still thrilled by the sensation of being able to do so. 

Before I could delve too much more into my emotions, however, the sound of an alarm clock blaring from across the apartment pricked my ears. Natalie! For a moment I’d forgotten her completely. But now, I realized with embarrassment, I was sitting, stark naked in her home. I needed to alert her to this miraculous change! 

I wouldn’t begin to batter my brain with the impossible implications of how this had come to be…. Not yet. I would indulge in the pure ecstasy of it having happened first. Tucking the book under one arm, clutching the pathetic little scrap of fabric that had once fit over my whole body and snatching up a throw pillow to cover myself, I took steps towards Natalie’s bedroom. 

The vertigo of walking through this space was akin to arriving on land after weeks at sea. The disorientation was nausea inducing. My body, mind, and senses were all adjusting to a very different world all at once. I caught my shoulder on the threshold of the kitchen from the living room, as I heard Natalie snooze her voice activated alarm. Well, I couldn’t hear her voice but the tinny buzzing had ceased. I stopped for a moment before the pantry door, pushing it open with light pressure from the back of my hand. 

The motion-censored light ignited with a distinguishable click as I stood there, gawking at the very same structure I had fought so dutifully to climb, injuries and all. Where I had been found by her. Loomed over by her. Picked up and manhandled. Where I had bit her and she’d dropped me. All of that had taken place in this cramped, dusty little hole of a pantry? No wonder she’d chuckled when she watched me cling for dear life to the edge of the shelf that, at the time, felt so impossibly high. Now, that same white wooden slat didn’t even rise past my shin. I palmed the stupid little doll shirt again, utterly amazed. 

Shaking it off, I ventured forward, toward Natalie’s room. Pressing into her partially closed door, I whispered sharply, unsure if she’d tried to go back to sleep, “Natalie! You wont believe this!” It was still loud enough that it should have caught her half conscious attention. 

Pushing the door open, I could now see into the room: the comforter undulating in peaks and valleys that would have been climbable only last night. But as I scanned the full breadth of the mattress, I saw no shock of dark, wavy hair. No olive arms or feet peeking out from between the cascading sheets. The bed, as far as I could tell, appeared to be empty. 

“N-Natalie? Are you awake?” Perhaps she was in the bathroom? I didn’t want to startle her if she needed her privacy. I was, after all, now the size of a human man just standing, barely covered in her most private space. I wondered with a thundering heart what it would be like to behold her, human to human. Would she be shorter than me? Given the average differences between male and female bodies, it was highly likely. The thought made me chuckle in spite of myself. Still, when I turned to look, the bathroom light was off and the door was only cracked by a quarter. My brow furrowed. Where was she? I called out again, suddenly worried for a reason I couldn’t clearly articulate.

************* 

I groaned, feeling pissed and immediately in a ticked off mood. How could someone so little be so fucking loud all of a sudden? 

Up until a few minutes ago, I’d been totally conked out, warm and so, so comfortable in bed. When my alarm went off, I didn’t even bother opening my eyes. The world could wait. I needed sleep, goddammit! I’d just settled back in to catch some more Z’s when Alexander started vying for my attention. 

Last I knew, he’d been in the living room. It’d made me sad to go to bed without him near but I knew what picking fights over stuff like that would get me, so I shut up about it. I wanted to spare myself the earful. After retiring to bed, I’d just assumed he’d fallen asleep on the couch. Come morning, I was looking forward to sleeping in for a little longer before waking him up with the smells of breakfast. 

Instead, here he was whispering louder than I thought possible for someone with the lung capacity of a mouse. Also, how had he managed to crawl into my bed to be so near me in the first place? That was the only reason I could explain to myself why his voice seemed to be so much louder than I was used to. I wondered, with a sluggish mind, if the comforter had trailed close enough to the floor and he’d climbed up. Honestly? That’s impressive, little man! You just really wanna be close to me all of a sudden? That thought made me happy. But then his voice seemed to boom directly overhead, which, how? I clamped my eyes shut, rolling over and groaning. Be quiet, Alexander! 

“Natalie?? Natalie where— oh….” 

Before I could ask him nicely to shut the fuck up if it wasn’t an emergency, cold air rushed all around me and light suddenly flooded in, as though the roof had been ripped off of the building. What the fuck?! 

Utterly confused, I shot up, eyes adjusting from their groggy state. When my vision came to, all I could see looming over me, backlit from the sun filtering in through my windows behind was… a… a… MONSTER!!!

It was something… vaguely person shaped but too big…. much much too big for that to be possible. My mind was unable to reason, unable to problem solve or think rationally. I could not comprehend that the familiar voice I’d just heard and this monstrosity, this silhouetted something were one and the same. 

The second I laid eyes on whatever it was, I screamed at the top of my lungs and scrambled to get as far away as I possibly could. Barely able to rise to my feet on the surface of the confusingly unsteady sheets, I suddenly realized it wasn’t just the monster that was huge.. so was my bed! My attempts to stand resulted in me taking in the oceanic scale of my mattress, which seemed to stretch onward all around me: the wrinkles in the sheets, like undulating but motionless waves. 

I trembled, also recognizing that I was completely naked, the folds of my pajamas now rising and falling beneath my feet. I was shivering from head to toe, but wether that was from cold or pure fear, I couldn’t tell. My limbs were quaking against my will, as I felt a tightening in my chest. It was nearly impossible for me to focus on any one thing for any period of time, my head was on fire and my eyes twitched, trying to take in the sheer monstrous scale of everything around me. My bedroom ceiling soared above me in some atmospheric blur, the walls Ising in the distance like some man-made Grand Canyon. I shook my head wishing I could block all of this out. As my heart thundered against my ribcage, I couldn’t take this feeling of being trapped and in mortal danger like some frightened little animal, I scrambled as fast as I could, falling all over myself, when I heard a voice, distant but all too loud, crash into my ear drums. 

“Woah, woah Natalie! Calm down! It’s just me…” as the words rattled my skull, an inky shadow like some carnivorous bird of prey circling overhead, cast out the light above me as a palm came crashing down directly in my path. I tried my best to halt and turn on my heel but ended up colliding directly with the wall of flesh. 

Caught with nowhere to run, I pressed into his palm, pathetically attempting to cover myself as I craned my neck high, high above, while the voice continued, “…It’s Alexander.” I could feel his chuckle reverberate through his palm that I was now stuck to like an insect on flypaper, “You don’t recognize me?” 

My heart stuck in my throat. It was him. Those piercing blue eyes were unmistakable. But he was huge!!! So completely, overwhelmingly huge! His bare chest rose and fell to the tide of his breathing. I couldn’t wrap my brain around how big each of those lungs had to be. He was almost silhouetted by the light from the window but I could see his sharp jaw, his cascading bangs, his furrowed brow and tense lips. Fuck, fuck fuck! I was so small now, so defenseless and vulnerable. For so long Alexander had wanted to tear me limb from limb for condescending to and manhandling him. Well… now he could if he wanted to. I shook from head to toe, trapped with nowhere to run. 

*******

She cowered against me. I had no idea what to do with her. She was clearly quite frightened. Welcome to every day of my entire life. I’d had this fantasy a million times in my rage-addled brain: I’d pored over just how to get back at her for the million infuriating moments she’d made for me in my time here. Let’s see how you’d like it being bandied about and dropped and trapped and prodded all day long. For going on decades now, I had thirsted for power over those who’d mistreated me. 

My gaze fixed on her outstretched hand, pressing firmly into the flesh of my palm. Bending a bit at the waist, I reached towards her with inquisitive fingers. She screamed when I pinched her wrist between finger and thumb, but I hardly noticed. I was fixated on the limb I now held captive. So small. Is this what I had been? Is this what I looked like to them? To humankind? With bones so tiny and delicate it looked like a stiff wind could break them? Her entire cranium was no larger than the pad of my index. Her outstretched hand, one I had been held in countless times, now hardly stretching over a nail bed. I heard nothing but the blood pounding in my own ears as I marveled at how inexplicably strange this all was. 

“ALEXANDER! PLEASE!! You’re hurting me!!” I snapped to, looking down to see I still had her wrist trapped between my fingers, and that in my analysis of her newfound form, I had, absentmindedly, lifted her off of the surface of the bed. She weighed practically nothing at all! She was twisting and writhing, face a bright red, her toes desperately searching for the ground just fractions of a millimeter out of reach. She was staring directly at me. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and in that moment, staring at the form of this woman that I held aloft with the greatest of ease, I felt a weight drop into the pit of my stomach.  

What am I doing??? Blood rushing to my face I lowered her down, gently releasing my grip. She snatched her hand away immediately, cradling her wrist in her other hand. She stared daggers into the fabric of the sheets before her.

“Natalie, I—“  

But before I could begin my apology, her face twisted into a grimace and she suddenly started to cry and shout.  "P-please, if you’re going to hurt me just do it quickly… I know you’re angry. You’re always so fucking angry. Well, looks like you got what you wanted… s-so, have at it, enjoy your… p-power over me…”

My heart of stone softened.  “I don’t want to hurt you. Natalie?” With a trembling finger, I touched the tip of her chin. She jumped and I sought her eyes. “I promise I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I frightened you.” 

Her eyes shimmered with still more tears.  “D-did you do this, somehow? Make us trade places? To show me how awful it is??” Her voice was shaking as she asked the question.

I felt a twinge in my chest, but I couldn’t name the precise feeling.  "No! No!! I have no idea how this happened! I swear to you. You’re giving me far more credit than I deserve. I’ve studied law not quantum physics… well, I’ve studied a little… just a few theorems….” I saw the slightest twitch out of the corner of my eye as she dipped her head, clearly, disinterested. I swallowed, recovering, while I reached for her pajama shirt and draped it around her bare shoulders. She was nowhere close to fitting in it now, “Ahem, anyway…. I’ve no hypothesis as to how this happened. It seems impossible. Perhaps it is some strange hallucination. But in any case, I’m not planning to harm you. Have you been infuriating, at times, during our journey together so far? Yes. But you managed, in spite of yourself, to keep me alive so…. That’s the least I can do for you. After all, it’s only fair!” 

************

Way to be fucking encouraging. Was I supposed to be thankful he’d decided I deserved to live? I found I did believe him when he said he wasn’t trying to hurt me. That was at least one less thing to lose my mind over. I pulled the thick, scratchy fabric tighter around me. How had he survived like this for all of his life? It’d been approximately ten minutes and I was ready to throw myself off the edge of the bed. I wiped my tear stained cheeks with the back of my hand. Maybe this was all just a bad dream and I’d wake up any second and we could laugh about this while he lounged in my cupped palm. 

“You’re still upset.” It was a statement not a question. I clenched my jaw, straightening my spine and glaring up at him. 

“Yes, you emotionally immature dumbass, I’m still upset. Whoopdie fuckin’ do, you can open doors and pick up books now. Great for fucking you. Meanwhile, my entire world has been ripped away from me and turned upside down.” He said nothing, but the lines on his face told me everything he was thinking. This was what he’d been ranting and railing about non-stop since I’d found him in the pantry. I sighed, acquiescing, “I’m sorr—“

“I’m sorry. Truly. I’m very rarely wrong, so I mean it genuinely. I was so wrapped up in my own improved circumstances, it was hard to remember the fear that you must be experiencing. I’m sorry, Natalie, for frightening you.” His face flushed suddenly. He cleared his throat, before extending a finger towards me, the underside turned upwards. I stiffened. The digit stopped just short of my personal space, “Forgive me for my ignorance?” It was my turn to blush, I reached out with a cautious hand and squeezed the tip of his proffered finger. 

“You’re forgiven. For now.” My hand rested on his finger. I could feel the thrum of his pulse, strong, steady. That made my own heart quicken its pace. Each ridge in the pad was distinct. It was overwhelming at this size how much more detailed every minuscule thing became!!

***************

I exhaled air from my nostrils, incapable of keeping my baffled thought from being spoken aloud, “Was I really this small to you?” She had been staring at the stark contrast of her outstretched hand over just the tip of my finger, but now cast her flustered gaze askance. 

“Y-yes. You were so….” Sh stumbled, trying to find the words.

“…Infinitesimally delicate…” I breathed.

“I was just gonna say cute… but… yeah.” Now she was the one laughing. I stared at her with a curious, questioning gaze, “How the fuck did you have the courage to bite me at this size?? You’re fucking terrifying.” She shoved playfully at my finger. I couldn’t deny the smirk playing on my lips 

“You deserved it.” I meant that in earnest.

“I know.” She replied with equal conviction.

“I deserve it too after the fright I gave you. Eye for an eye as they say….” Half joking, half in earnest truth, I brought my upturned index finger to just before her lap, “You can return the favor now, if you’d like…” 

She burst into immediate laughter, “What the fuck??? I’m not gonna bite you!” She crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow as she continued to chuckle, “What do you take me for? A dirty little rat who can’t control his animal instincts?” 

“You’re still on that, are you? You do realize I could, now, easily take that as an invitation to imprison you in a glass bowl!” 

She scoffed, rising to her feet, the fabric of her pajama shirt she was using to cover herself tucked beneath her arms, thrusting her chin defiantly in the air, “You wouldn’t have the balls!” 

It was my turn to raise a brow, I was certainly never one to back down from a challenge. 

“Is that so?” As she opened her mouth to quip back, I quickly gripped her torso, fabric and all, between a thumb and forefinger, lifting her into the air, as I straightened my spine and stood, holding her just before my eyes, “I tend to take questions of my ability rather seriously, Ms. Marquez.” My gaze met hers, and I immediately felt a wave of adrenaline crash through me. 

Instead of the confident smile of the woman I’d come to know who always seemed to hit back when it came to verbal swordplay, her eyes were almost popping out of their sockets, her heart was thundering wildly against my thumb, her whole body trembled as she squirmed uncomfortably. She was so… small. I was hardly applying any pressure at all, yet she was utterly powerless to break my grip. As she struggled, she made the mistake of peering past my fingers, taking in just how high off the ground she currently was. She immediately cried out, fighting with all her might against me. 

***************

THIS WAS TERRIFYING. All in a breathtaking rush, I went from relying on my own two feet, to being whisked into the air, pressure all around my ribcage as I found myself suddenly, before his eye. An eye that was as big as my whole head. I could count every sandy eyelash, every slight wrinkle around the corners. I could feel his breath on me. This was far and above too much for me to handle. Why wouldn’t he let me go? Didn’t he see how scared I was? I couldn’t help remembering, with a pang of guilt, how many times he’d protested against my fingers, heart fluttering against my skin, and I’d simply laughed at him. I had no clue it felt like this. 

I continued to push and writhe. In my desperate attempt to free myself, I caught the mattress out of the corner of my eye. I did a double take. It looked like I was suspended on the very ledge of a ten story building! A building which happened  to be made of a male chest, abs and hips, in one impossible wall before me. My head was pounding as I struggled to get oxygen to my lungs. I couldn't help it, I was starting to hyperventilate. I squirmed even more, tears pricking my eyes as all this went completely ignored. What was wrong with him? My vision dipped to black and that was the final straw. 

“P-put me down! P-please! Put me down, NOW!” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t drop—“ it was almost a light chuckle, as if my reaction was somehow funny to him.

“ALEXANDER PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW!!!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. He did as he was told without a moment’s hesitation, crouching before the edge of the mattress, his chin resting on the bedspread. I collapsed, my legs like Jell-O. I couldn’t breathe. 

“Natalie, you seem to be taking this rather hard, are you quite alright?” Fingers seemed to grow in size as they bore down closer and closer. 

“D-DON’T! Don’t touch m-me! I need… I need a minute, please!” I was curled up into a ball, running my fingernails along my scalp like some pet bird ripping out its own feathers from stress. That’s all I was now, wasn’t I? I shuddered. 

This was never something I’d had to really think about. It’s not like I ever had to worry about being in this situation. But now? As tears cascaded down my cheeks, and my breath caught in my throat I finally, really understood the source of Alexander’s anger. I was breaking after fifteen minutes, yet he’d lived his whole life this way. I hastily wiped my face with the thick scratchy shirt, each of its stitches incredibly distinct. 

Through watery eyes, I looked up at the man who had once wrapped himself easily around my thumb, now towering above me, his head propped up on a fist. His striking blue eyes shimmered, his brow furrowed with concern. For once in his life he was silent. He blinked rapidly when my eyes met his. “I… I didn’t know being picked up felt… like that. No wonder you chewed me out for it every time….” He shifted his arm slightly and I could feel the ricochet effect through the surface of the mattress, to me. It made my heart skip a beat. Even his absent-minded motion was impossible for me to ignore. Tears swelled in my eyes again as I began to feel utterly overwhelmed by it all. 

I opened my mouth to continue when he suddenly blurted out, “I’m rather famished. Are you?” I blinked, shaking my head. This wasn’t what I was expecting him to say. It definitely pulled me out of my sad sack, pity party. 

“W-what?” I mumbled.

“I’m hungry. I assume you are, too. I don’t exactly have much… Well, to be precise, any culinary experience… I thought, perhaps, you might be willing to tutor me?” I couldn’t help but notice the subtle change in the color of his cheeks. He ran a hand through his cascading hair. My shoulders relaxed from my ears a little as my heart soared. Awwwww, he was trying, for me! He was doing his best to comfort me. 

“Okay, but… it’s not my fault if you fuck it up because you won’t listen to me or follow directions.” I teased. 

“I am a great follower of directions when I choose to be, thank you!”

“Oh, so up until this point you’ve been ignoring me and pissing me off by choice?” I felt a weight lifting off of my shoulders. Everything was far from fine, but it was okay to have a moment of fun. For the first time since I’d woken up, this felt… familiar. 

“If you have to ask me, I evidently was doing a very poor job of making that explicitly clear.” He smirked, his eyes bright. I’d never seen eyes quite that blue before. It was like they glowed. He paused for a moment, I could see a new idea flashing behind his gaze, “I’ve no desire to hurt you, Natalie. You’ve now found yourself in a stress-inducing, highly demoralizing position. Far be it from me to add to that any further. You have been rather irritatingly flippant towards me in the past, but I am not so emotionally compromised that I intend to seek revenge for past wrongs. You know what it’s like now, and I think that’s more than enough. I don’t want you to fear me, despite all appearances and history to the contrary, I am capable of some degree of compassion.” I swallowed. I had no idea what to even say. I just sort of stared, wide-eyed as he stood to his full height. I found it necessary to swallow again. 

Towering like a skyscraper, his half naked form dominated my whole point of view. Had I noticed he was ripped before? I didn’t think I’d noticed he was ripped before. Suddenly finding myself choking, I turned away, face burning hot. 

“Ah…” He clicked his tongue, I still couldn’t bear to look up, “I… er… I need something to wear… May I—“ 

“Yup, uh huh… have an old pair of sweatpants in the bottom right drawer… Feel free to—“

“R-right, um, yes… I’ll just… walk over there…” He pushed himself away from the bed, and started to turn towards the dresser. Oh! Oh my god, he had a pillow for the front… but not the… I bit my lip and buried my head in my arms. I heard the scrape of wood as a drawer was opened, then a rustle of fabric. Not soon after, I could actually hear his individual footfalls on the carpet, like some giant out of a children’s cartoon. 

He cleared his throat and I could tell he was standing before me again, “I, uh, I’m decent…” I swept the hair from my eyes as I craned my neck upwards. I almost burst out laughing. He’d managed to grab, not the pair I was thinking, but my stupid ass sweats from high school with bedazzled flowers.  Without him having to turn around I knew stamped across the ass was the word “SEXY” in all caps. They were a white elephant gift and, sue me, I was a sentimental bitch. But I wouldn't be caught dead actually wearing them. 

“Don’t, don’t you start…Natalie! Why? Why do you insist on continuing to insult me with the worst possible fashion choices one could possibly fathom in the darkest recesses of their mind??” They barely fit him, seeming to suffocate his waist. His face was bright red. 

“Oh get over it, you big baby. At least you have something on, I’m just swimming in this!” I raised my arms to undulate the pajama shirt fabric. 

“Be careful what you ask for, I’m sure you have the rest of those doll clothes lying around here, somewhere….”

I raised my hands defensively, shaking my head, “I yield the remainder of my time, your Honor.” Lawyer jokes. I was making lawyer jokes now? How else would he manage to ruin me??? 

***********

I laid the flat of my hand against the mess of sheets just before her reduced corpus. I watched as she sucked in a hesitant breath just as my skipping heart pounded out of its syncopated rhythm. Would she allow me to hold her? What an utterly remarkable reversal, me, holding someone between my cupped hands?? I never fathomed it could be possible. We stared at each other, neither breathing a word. Finally, determinedly, with that firm brow and cocked chin that she always displayed when she’d made up her mind about something, she tucked the fabric under her arm, and, took steps towards my hand. I smiled as the t-shirt was dragged behind her, looking like some pooling and elaborate train of a designer dress. 

Gingerly, I pinched the fabric with my free, right hand, relieving her of the burden of dragging it herself. That’s when the flat of her bare foot pressed into my warm and waiting flesh and I almost gasped for air. What an almost indescribable feeling, to be a vessel for someone’s whole self. As much as it set part of my cerebrum on fire, I could begin to understand why humans wanted me trapped between their fingers so often. It was an experience unlike any other, tinged with uncertainty, strangely intimate, altogether wonderful. Rather quickly she found her way to sitting in the center of my palm, and I lifted her up to my eye-line. “Perhaps we can try this again?” I kept my voice low and soft. 

“Perhaps we can.” She flashed her eyes up at me like some double confirmation. I stayed staring at the tiny woman nestled in my palm, buried under a mound of fabric: her hair, messy from sleep, cascading all around her. She reached out a hand, no bigger than my finger nail, and placed it firmly on the tip of my nose. I practically flinched. I didn’t know how I felt about all this sudden intimacy. I would have railed against such things before. She seemed to be encouraging it. What to make of that? 

“This is… weird, right?” She broke the silence.

I cleared my throat trying my damndest not to move, “It certainly is unorthodox.”

“Food?” She guided me back to the task at hand. 

“Yes, yes.” I took measured steps toward the kitchen, eyes glued to her. I knew being handled while walking could be a nauseating experience. She seemed fine, if not a bit overwhelmed by the sight of her own home towering around her.  

Soon, I found myself before a cutting board, littered with vegetables, Natalie perched upon my bare shoulder. Why was I nervous hefting this kitchen knife? How hard could it possibly be? 

“Dice it.” She commanded, matter-of-factly. 

“… Mmm, yes, of course… I’m going to… do that… now…” Did I sound as utterly lacking in confidence as I felt? 

Rich laughter poured from her small body, “You don’t know what dicing is??? You know property laws dating back to the late 70s, by heart, and you don’t know how to dice a tomato??” She was howling with laughter.

“Well! You make it sound—“ My cheeks flushed as I mumbled. 

“Shut up , shut up, shut up, oh my fucking god this is funny. Put me on the cutting board. C’mon, chop, chop, the water’s gonna boil over by the time you get this done.” She was awfully demanding for one so little.

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. How was she still pulling my strings like a puppet when I was ten times her size? Just because she was small, didn’t mean she still couldn’t find a way to get under my skin. I let her slide out of my loose fist and onto the board with a rotund, ruby red tomato, measuring the majority of her height, placed at its center.

“Okay… Alexander pay attention! You’re gonna cut it in half here.” I did so, seemingly much more nervous about her proximity to the knife in my hand than she appeared to be. “Then put the other half over there for now. Now, cut it along the curve like this.” She gestured broadly, using her whole body to demonstrate her meaning. I’ll admit, even while she was using me as the butt of her joke, her fully embodied commitment was rather endearing. We carried on like this. I managed to cut myself with the knife… twice. She told me it was because I lacked proper form. I wasn’t aware such a thing existed. She had me sautéing and basting and boiling in no time (not without almost constant laughter on her part). At one point she’d tried to convince me to don a frilly apron of hers with garish looking chickens and eggs patterned throughout, citing its convenient front pocket, but I managed to set a boundary on that one. After all, she could no longer force me to wear anything! I sort of relished in that freedom. I tried to ignore the rhinestones of my current pant situation as they sparkled in the oven overhead light. 

After a period of pure torment that apparently was cooking, while I wiped sweat from my brow and nursed my cut fingers, we finally, blessedly, sat down to eat. “That was…. altogether unpleasant.” I groaned.

“Really? I had a great time!” She was stuffing her mouth, unapologetically.  The action made me smile for some reason.   

“Well of course you had a fine experience you didn’t have to do anything.” I teased.

“Dude, if I hadn’t Ratatouille’d the situation we’d be eating char for lunch.” She spat back. I stared at her numbly, “Ratatouille? You know? The Disney movie? With the rat? And the guy? The rat’s a chef?? Not ringin’ any bells for ya?” 

“Sounds like a profoundly stupid film.” I was just being honest. 

She stuck her tongue out at me. I shook my head. 

“Whatever, when we switch back, I’m gonna make you watch a ton of Disney stuff just to laugh as you bitch about it.” She returned to her meal, unbothered by the sentence that hung in the air like a hangman’s noose in my mind’s eye. The food that had tasted heavenly on my tongue, now turned to bitter ash. My complexion waned. 

“T-Turn back?” I practically choked on the words.

“Well, yeah. I mean whatever this is, it’s gotta be temporary right? If this was, like, a thing, you’d be hearing about it on the news. I mean, who knows? Maybe this is just one really fucking weird dream. Or we took acid and forgot? I dunno, I’m just saying, it’s not like this is forever….” 

I swallowed but tasted nothing, feeling the pulse in my neck quicken. “Natalie, I understand this is…. Much less advantageous for you… but… I can’t go back. I’ve dreamt of nothing more than leading my life with dignity and… respect. I can walk out in the world with both, now.” 

She stared at me, blinking once, “I don’t know that it’ll be up to us…” She mumbled under her breath, her words so quiet I had to strain to hear, “But… I… Come on, you know I can’t live like this.” Well, I’ve done it against my will my whole life, what makes you so special? “I mean.. I know it’s not really fair of me to complain to you, of all people, it’s just… I mean, Alexander, I have a family.” A knot stuck in my throat. 

“Well, like you said, maybe we’ll have no say in the matter.” I forced a tasteless bite just to avoid the conversation. We didn’t speak for the rest of the meal, both of us suddenly weighed down by our respective heavy consciences, neither of us wanting to lose our autonomy. 

Cleaning up was far more successful than the cooking had been, but there was no longer any banter. She sat where I had placed her, atop the microwave. She regarded the things nearby: the loaf of bread, the bag of clementines, a haphazardly re-wrapped portion of a chocolate bar, with utter disgust. All of these things, things that she had once been able to pick up with ease, were now looming over her, like stoic mockeries of her own pitiful size. I was painfully familiar with such a feeling. I felt badly for her, I truly did. 

Once the kitchen was spotless, no easy feat given its usual calamitous clutter, I sort of stood there leaning against the counter, unsure what to do next. She was the one to break the silence, “Thanks for cleaning up. This is the best this kitchen’s looked in years…” She was trying her best to offer an olive branch. 

“It was nothing. You know, I might be able to help with the rest of the apartment too, if you’ll let me.” 

**********************

If I’d felt overwhelmed by cleaning before, the task seemed (and probably was) near to impossible now. I shrugged my shoulders. “My trash heap is your playground, go fuckin’ nuts.” I wasn’t one to turn down free help. As long as this isn’t how it’s always gonna be. Every time the panic-inducing thought slipped in, I chased it away. It’s just for now. It HAS to be just for now. I knew Alexander well enough by now to know that like a mouse with a cookie, giving him a challenge or a puzzle to solve was like a drug. He was beside himself. Was it normal to look at this giant of a man and still think he was laughably adorable?

We whiled away the rest of the afternoon and evening cleaning and reorganizing every nook and cranny. Well, he did most of that. To an absolutely asinine degree. He used a tape measure to make sure each book on the shelf was the same distance from the edge. He organized all my records by genre and release date. He rearranged my plants based on the trajectory of the sun through my windows. He even took the time to meticulously fold every item of clothing I had stuffed in my dresser. 

Meanwhile, I managed to find something to entertain myself at each stage. I dug out an old handheld video game system, that had once easily fit between two cupped hands and now was a challenge just to hit the buttons. He chuckled softly at the beeps and tinny music coming from the outdated machine. I marveled at trying to use my computer now stretching on, the size of a movie theater screen. I tried writing my own name with a pencil and paper, only to come away with a page full of graphite squiggles and pretty sore arms. 

By the time the work was done, it was well past midnight and we were both exhausted. His bangs pestered his eyes as he collapsed on the floor by the bed, having set me down on the edge, I peered down at him while he caught his breath. He leaned his head back and rolled toward me, peering up at where I sat. Seeing those bright blue eyes gazing up at me over brows and messy curtained hair, I felt my spine straighten. If I squinted, it was almost like he was little again, craning his neck to meet my gaze. His voice warm and all-consuming, broke me of my thoughts. 

“Is it time to retire for the night? I, for one, am exhausted and my leg is killing me.” He grumbled, I nodded. I’d forgotten about his unhealed injury. He’d been going without complaint all day and I couldn’t exactly see it from my limited vantage point, I’d forgotten that he was still hurt. “Do you need anything?” I shook my head no. He started for the door, “Goodnight, then—“ Where was he going? 

“Wait!” My tone sounded a little too small and needy for my liking. I cleared my throat, “Uh, I mean… Don’t you think we should sleep near each other just, you know, in case?” I saw his lips press into a thin line. Being reminded of the sheer possibility that he could wake up without this new body seemed to distress him greatly, so much so, that I felt guilty for bringing it up. Still, I didn’t want to be left all alone in this giant bed all by myself. Alexander may have loved his personal space, but I kind of wanted to be looked after right now. He nodded curtly, as he took steps towards the bed. He hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure how to make this less intimate than it already clearly was. I shuffled over to the pillow on the opposite side. He did his best to slip under the sheets without disturbing the mattress too much. 

Then, much to my fascination and delight, I found myself lying on my side, face to face, eye to eye with him. I reached out and with a chilly hand, pressed my palm into the bridge of his nose. He blinked, while sucking in air. I couldn’t help smiling. “No matter how big you are, you’ll always be my little nightmare…” a smirk curved his lips as his left hand shifted from where it lay on the bed. Slowly, cautiously, a finger tip approached, and very lightly brushed my hair aside. Where his fingertip touched, my skin was abuzz with electricity. My heart skipped a beat and I held my breath. As though he were waking from a dream and suddenly found himself an inch from my body, his eyes widened and he mumbled, “G-goodnight, Natalie” and then promptly rolled over. I shook my head to hide my smile. This poor boy needed to learn it was okay to express feelings other than pure rage. 

I rolled over to face him, and speaking to the back of his head, I wished him a goodnight, before drifting off to sleep. 

I awoke softly at first, seemingly on my own for no particular reason. I could feel the slight draft of air tickle my body as I shuffled a bit in bed. That’s when I heard it. Almost impossible to place at first, so soft it almost blended with the mechanical drone of the air-conditioning, the sound of someone crying. Not someone, of course, Alexander. 

I knew before I even opened my eyes. My heart sank. Feeling a tightening in my own throat, I met the pristine morning light with heavy, sleep-ridden eyelids. Rolling over my shoulder in my perfectly proportioned bed, I saw him, curled up against the farthest corner of my pillow, hunched over, his shoulders hitching with each wracking sob. As I adjusted myself in bed to see him, I watched his spine tense, as he froze, casting a glance behind him. The face I saw was the most pitiable, splotchy and tear-stained countenance of a man who’d lost everything in the stroke of one unexplainable night. When he landed his gaze on me, his eyes brimmed with fresh tears, as he painfully choked out these few words: 

“I was so close. I had everything I’ve ever wanted for a day. One pathetic day. And now… I’m… back to nothing.” Without hesitation or self consciousness, he rose to standing and crossed to me, I quickly gathered him in my hands and held him close to my heart. I stroked his trembling shoulders with the pad of my thumb. 

“Don’t talk like that. It’s not true.” 

He scoffed, pushing himself away from my skin to look me dead in the eye, “Oh really? How should I talk about it then? Shall I rejoice in being dependent on people forever? Shall I jump for joy that I will never be taken seriously? That I have no control over my own destiny? The world is actively hostile to people like me. I’ve no means to self-actualize like this. Not because I’m not capable, but because your society won’t give me the chance. But, no, you’re right, let me see if I can arrange for a fireworks display to celebrate this momentou—“ Gingerly, I placed the pad of my index finger over his lips. 

“Hush! Alexander? You aren’t nothing. You’re dead wrong about that. You, my little nightmare, are everything to me. Do you realize I would be flunking out of law school right now if it weren’t for you? Hell, you just spent the last twenty-four hours taking care of me when I needed it most. You inspire me every day to work harder and rise to my fullest potential. And yeah, okay, sure, you may need a little help getting around and you’re never gonna suck less at cooking, I’m sorry to break it to you, but you are brilliant…. And I know I don’t have to tell you that twice. I’m pretty sure you enjoy telling me as often as you can manage. If anyone is going to wrangle life into submission and take control of his own future, it's you. Little or no…” I trailed off as I watched his shoulders rise and fall as he chuckled and shook his head, bitterly. What had I said wrong? My face burned.

“Is that all I am? A pocket-sized aide, turned miniature tutor?” When his gaze returned to mine, his eyes were blazing blue. 

“You know that’s not what I meant…”

“Isn’t it though? All you humans care about is what I can do and be for you. How I can entertain you and fulfill some niche set of tasks—“

“Now, hang on. I admit, that was a poor choice of words. But give me a little more credit, here. I’m not like that shitty lawyer you had to put up with from before. I understand empathy and, maybe in spite of your low opinion of me, I can learn from my mistakes, okay?” 

He sighed, squirming a bit inside my hand. He cast his gaze askance while he blinked once, twice, three times, considering my argument, “I just… I’m so beleaguered by this approximation of my worth to what duties I perform.” He squeezed the flesh of my palm in frustration.

“I understand that, completely,” I encouraged, while he simply scoffed in response, “Well, I mean I know I don’t get it, exactly, but I can empathize, okay? Stop trying to make me out to be the bad guy when I’m trying, here. I just want you to know that I… I… don’t… you know, I don’t, uh… hate you…” I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling quite flushed, “What I mean is, I’m not out to get you. I’m grateful for all the ways you help me, but I don’t expect it and I’m doing everything I can think of to help you in return. I know you think I’m a fucking idiot, and, I dunno, maybe I am in some ways, but I’m an idiot who’s got your back. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’ll still be here even after you piss me off for the five thousandth time this week.” He cracked a ghost of a smile at that. There you are behind that prickly exterior. 

“You humans are extremely difficult to train. I hope you can appreciate what an uphill climb it was to even arrive at this destination,” He leaned back, allowing his weight to be supported by my curled fingers, an act of relaxation he almost never indulged in. I felt my heart skip a beat as I felt the warmth of his body ignite the sensitive nerves on my fingertips. He continued, “I suppose I don’t hold you in utter contempt, either. Perhaps having some support won’t be as burdensome and infuriating as I previously hypothesized.” He swept his bangs from his eyes, “While most of your earlier statement was, frankly, offensive, you were correct in your assertion: I am rather brilliant aren’t I?” He flashed me a winning smile and arched his brow. 

“Oh fuck off! You’re not guilt tripping me and fishing for compliments at the same time! No, I’m not playing your stupid game! God, you’re such a little nightmare! I mean you’ve been through a lot, I know, but, jeez, Alexander! You don’t know how to turn it off, do you?” 

“Even at night, the sun shows itself by the glow of the moon…” 

“Oh my fucking god, you’re unbearable! Forget I said anything at all to try and cheer you up. Now I’ve gotta suffer through the consequences of my own actions! Ay, dios mio, what have I done?” I placed the tip of my index finger on his bent, left knee and shook it ever so slightly. Enough to demonstrate my pretend frustration without actually jostling his body. 

He was beaming by the time I finished, “I’ll make sure you’re spared when the revolution comes. You turned out to be less wholly insufferable than I’d first surmised, Ms. Marquez.”

“And that’s as close to a compliment as I’m going to get from you, I am sure.” He laughed. I adored that little laugh. “Let’s go back to sleep and ignore the world for a few more hours, how does that sound?”

“Honestly? Rather ideal.” 

“May I hold you in my hand for you to rest in?” I felt his hands reflexively tighten on the skin of my palm. He thought for a moment before releasing a breath he had been holding. 

“Yes, you may.” 

For the first time since I’d known him, he allowed me to hold him closely, head resting on the pad of my finger, as he curled up over my beating heart. As I closed my eyes and began to drift, I heard a muffled voice. 

“I suppose I’m really not getting rid of you am I?” 

“Not unless you kill me… Wait…Don’t, don’t get any ideas, okay? Somehow of anyone I feel like you could figure out how to kill a human and get away with it.”

He laughed, wriggling to get more comfortable in my featherlight grip, “Hm. I suppose I’ll let you live to see the light of another day…Goodnight, Natalie.” And then, I could have sworn I felt just the smallest amount of pressure and dampness against my finger. Almost as if a pair of tiny lips were kissing it goodnight. But maybe it was just wishful thinking. 

After the day we’d had, who knew just what was real anymore?

[foolish-clown]

Hoist the Colors High

A/N: Not a part of my ongoing Pirate!AU, which I still need to get to at some point. 

Warnings: Alcohol, piracy, threats(?), fighting, injury, blood, and historical inaccuracy

Her smile is wild, spirit untamed just like the ocean. Tenacious in the way she erodes your defenses and has you surrendering before you drowned. 

You were helpless from the start, yet she is your anchor as much as she is your demise. 

The ocean holds steady while you cast your gaze upon its disarming surface.

Horizon fast approaches, and yet you have once again beaten the sun at greeting the earth; darkness above and below like your ship was the only island against oblivion.

You are unsure as to what had awoken you this time. You simply remember a blank mind, no uneasiness, as your heavy eyelids slowly crept open to greet the gentle swaying of the captain’s quarters.

The woman herself was still settled deep into slumber, her chest embracing the plain of your back with each intake of air.

It wasn’t a hard thing to leave her there undisturbed, the whole ship creaked and groaned with every rock and sway guided by the lulling waves below. Your footsteps had been practically non-existent even when you slid on your worn-down boots.

The breeze outside is a weak partner to dance with; its hold only manages to grasp the loosest parts of yourself as it guides you onwards into the void formed by stars and sea.

You make your way towards the bow, allowing your gaze to flicker by the emerging hues of orange and gold before once again dropping them into the abyss. The shadows of morning meaning you cannot make out a single thing hidden below.

Folklore and drunken tales formed by deranged sailors aside, you have always held a deserving fear for what lays below the waters’ surface. There be monsters lurking deep, sharp fangs and crushing grips only two of the many hidden ways in which one could perish.

And if not its residents, the ocean herself holds more than enough power to decide one’s fate.  

Through the wonderings of your existential dread, you hear something shuffle behind you, the pace slow and unthreatening. Only mere moments pass by before there is a chin on your shoulder, arms holding you tight.  

“Your mind seems to be lost at the bottom of the ocean.”

Her voice, croaky and barely strung together have your lips curving at the edges. “That is usually where it stays when not in your company.”

You can hear the smile beckoning her words when she next speaks, the crackle brought forth by sleep moving aside for the assuredness from her love. “I am here now, so how about looking at something that is far more mesmerizing?”

Your eyes roll in jest, yet your legs are already moving until her expression is your entire world. The grin adorning her features still holds that slight lull from tiredness, and yet the stars burning bright within her gaze awe you more than the real things ever could.

“That’s better,” she coos, faux-mocking, never one to miss an opportunity to tease her favorite person for you have buried her heart in the most secret of treasure chests.

You fold your lips into the lines of her smirk, enraptured with how she manages to soften so quickly, so easily, under your touch. 

You shiver as her hand creeps up until it encircles the back of your neck to bring you closer, humming at the way you melt beneath her guidance just before you pull away.

Morning has truly arrived when you open your eyes, marveling at the way rays of golden brilliance light up her face and the fire hidden beneath.

"Captain," you grin, her laughter ringing clear with your cheeky quip.

However, with dawn now upon you, work is to be done. Sua leaving you to your duties with one last little pinch before she begins giving her orders to those who have stumbled their way out of the ship’s crew quarters.

You watch with fondness as everyone greets her with vigor, respect fuelling their every movement as they await instruction.

The small woman had done so much to earn her title, and apart from a few instances of drunken boasting, she has kept herself humble throughout it all.

- - - - - - - - - - ☆ - - - - - - - - - -  

It is hours later when the sun has just passed its peak when your destination begins to slowly creep into view.

You had heard the call from whoever was in the Crow’s Nest, head snapping up to take in the dark cliffs that were hazy due to the heat.

A presence makes its way beside you, and when you glance over you see Jiu – the ship’s quartermaster – looking in the same direction with an expression full of relief. “As much as I love being at sea, I won’t deny that I am itching to be upon land again.”

A smile filters its way against your lips, and you hum your agreement. “It will be good to stand on something stable, although I am not sure if my legs will adapt so quickly.”

Laughter rings aloud, Jiu placing a hand against her mouth as she looks at you now, “will it matter once you reach the taverns?”

A beat, witty remarks coming and going but none are good enough for your taste. “A fair point,” you say instead, images of previous drunken nights (and even days,) forcing the smile on your face to become more wry.

Jiu laughs again, and you hate the way fire colors your skin.

The place you were heading to was a favorite amidst the crew. The Royal Navy had yet to touch its shore; land and people alike were free from the cruelty forced upon the ‘modern age.’ And while safety was but a wistful dream, even here -- understanding and camaraderie were found in abundance.

As the rowers below begin to turn the ship for docking, you watch the people as they went about the port. Conversation sat heavily in the warm air, stall owners and fishermen alike yelling out for anyone who would listen.

There is a person by your side again, and as you turn to continue your earlier discussion with Jiu your jaw falters once your eyes have to lower from where her face would have been. Mirth clouds Sua’s expression when an expectant eyebrow raises in a challenge.

You purposely chose to not take the bait, instead giving her an obnoxiously bright smile that has your shoulder being the victim to a rather weak slap while she laughs. 

“Try not to get into trouble,” she warns, but you know that her words are just as much for herself as they are for you. 

“But what if I want you to protect me from a bunch of. . . pirates?” 

She fully turns to you then, and her smile is decisively wicked. “Any sailor with even a shred of intelligence will know not to touch a single hair on your pretty little head.” 

And then she leans in to give you a little peck, head tilting just so in order for her to whisper into your ear, “pirates will be the least of your concerns if you don’t obey my order.”

Your shiver is just the reaction she was inciting, and when it freely went up your spine she pulled away like nothing had just happened. 

You miss some of the grins the crew shoots your way when they pass, but even if you hadn’t it would have all been good-natured. 

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

- - - - - - - - - - ☆ - - - - - - - - - -  

When the business side of things has been taken care of, the majority of the Red Queen’s crew finds themselves drinking away any earnings they have saved up. 

At one point during the night you catch Jiu’s all-knowing smile, and you can do nothing but shrug helplessly.  

Sua had relocated herself from by your side to the piano where an already drunk Yoohyeon was still managing to play perfectly; the two of them singing to their heart’s content and managing to also get the majority of the taverns’ residents to join in. 

At one point the alcohol in your system leaves you feeling deliriously warm and happy, and so you take that opportunity to take a step outside to let the slightly cooler breeze wash over your sweaty skin. 

Your eyes close with the sort-out sensation, body slightly swaying but otherwise allowing you this moment to regain any of your remaining bearings. 

A cough to your right has you snapping yourself out of the slight break, and when you look there is a woman, a mask covering the lower part of her face, with a gun pointed in your direction. 

Danger is slow to alert your senses, and even when it does your drunken state means the full extent doesn’t quite hit you as it would have otherwise. 

The woman’s eyes burn under the torch beside her, and it takes every ounce of whatever self-control you may have still owned to not feint when you feel yourself begin to get queasy.  

You watch when the woman uses her thumb to fully cock the hammer of her weapon, dread beginning to push aside the alcohol still coursing through your system. 

And even though the movement is shaky and uncoordinated, your hands instinctively rise in a show of surrender, as you knew deep down that any chances for you to reach down for your own weapons would be null. 

The air filling your lungs is starting to become more intense, more sporadic; and the previous prospect of simply falling unconscious is becoming a more likely scenario the further this plays out. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” 

You can feel your ears perk at the sudden voice to join in, and your blurred vision is just able to make out the widening of the woman’s eyes. 

With a gun pressed to the side of her head. 

Confusion sweeps hard and fast; you are unable to see more than an arm of your savior, but the tone of her voice when she speaks renders you weak. 

“Go.” 

You flinch when the still loaded gun flashes under the moonlight before the masked stranger takes off back into the shadows from whence she came. 

Air fills your lungs for what seems like the first time since things took a turn; your lungs expanding to full capacity with the added relief settled there. 

There is an attempt to blink away your surprise, Sua’s concerned gaze searching for you through the fog. 

“Y/N?” She calls, and even with the harsh thump beating in your ears you can still detect the nervousness there, “are you alright? Did she hurt you?” 

“No,” you manage to force out. But it’s stuttered, broken. And you know that it is going to do little in quelling her worries.  

Even still you yearn for her, wanting nothing more than her entire being to shield you away from the world, even if only a little while. The dangers of the world seemed all that much closer during that moment. 

You live the life of a criminal, you tell yourself, hating how much this has seemed to affect you, get a hold of yourself!

Sua closes in with the intent to soothe, but the sound of footsteps has her unsheathing her cutlass just in time for it to meet another; the masked woman, it seemed, thinking twice on her earlier attempt. 

The sound of metal colliding has you swearing in surprise, a single step backward almost sending you to the floor. 

Even in your state, your hand reaches down to your own sword, unready but willing to step in should the need arise. 

But as you watch the pair, the way they danced to the sound of violence, you can’t help but become slightly mesmerized. 

Sua is quick, and light on her feet. She doesn’t use brute strength to push back her opponent; instead reflecting their weapon to her sides before aiming a deft strike at whatever lay unguarded. 

She ducks and dodges, back flexing and legs tensing each time her opponent got one step too close. 

They were pirates, however, and so after one reflection too many the masked woman grabs her gun with anger and shoots. 

The lack of tact means her aim is off, but the close contact means the bullet still grazes Sua’s side; red mixing within the white linen of her shirt and leaving the obvious stain of weakness. 

Fright blurs your vision, heart pounding deep in your temple as you move your hand from the grip of your cutlass to the handle of your flintlock. A flick of your wrist brings it into the air before your thumb makes quick work of the hammer and you shoot. 

Whether it was the alcohol or some backward morals, you hadn’t aimed at the attacker, but close enough for your warning to be made clear. 

Her eyes meet yours for but a moment; Sua, with a hand to her side, steps between you with determination still alight like a wildfire. 

Defeat is slow to push aside the stubbornness still holding tight to her frame, but the woman ultimately surrenders with a single curse falling from her lips. 

And this time, it’s for good. 

With movements as quick as you can make them you holster your gun and rush to her side; a mix of a grin and grimace highlighting her face. 

“Sua,” you plead, grabbing onto the arm currently not holding her side, “we need to get you to Jiu.” 

“Why?” She laughs, but the pain hurries out a hiss thereafter, “let her have tonight. It’s only a scratch.” 

Aghast, you almost feel the need to force her towards your doctor.

“Y/N,” she says, and you meet her eyes with how softly she says it. “I will be alright, it just needs something to halt the bleeding.” 

You wish to argue; none of you were skilled in the art of medicine like Jiu was. But you were also tired, and guessed the little the surgeon had taught would be enough for tonight. 

“Alright,” you sigh, and with a smile, she holds you by your neck to bring you closer until she could graze her nose against yours. “Thank you.”    

The trek back to the Red Queen was thankfully uneventful, and once you were inside the dimly lit room of the captain’s cabin you left Sua on the bed before leaving to retrieve the few things you would need. 

And once done, you lay down beside her, the pair of you on your backs with the ocean waves as your lullaby. 

Her hand was warm where it covered your own, and you were careful when maneuvering until you were relaxed against her uninjured side. 

“Sleep,” she commands, eyes closed. A hand comes up behind you until buried in your hair, “I am here, right here with you.” 

Your eyes close under her touch, drifting into the abyss when the beat of her heart melds with the waves of the ocean. 

[circa-specturgia]

Circa Specturgia - The stars were shining…

A scene from my main WIP, Circa Specturgia. This one's got some heavier lore stuff that I haven't explained and might not explain for a while, but, I can say this much. Specturgy isn't the only magic in the setting, and the world is so much more ancient when one looks in the wrong places...

Inspired by the songs Heart of Darkness and Dancing with Flames, and Untold II, all by Secession Studios - Good to play in the background for the vibe! ✨

TW// Scars, Blood, Burn scars

The stars were shining.

The sky parted, and he descended from the space within space, setting foot on the quiet field. The wind swept his black hair, masking his eyes as though he’d torn out a part of the canvas of the night to hide them. In between their blackness, two eyes, gold like the sun, shone, iridescent.

His steady gaze met the dozens of golden pairs now trained on him, glittering like the ones in the sky above… The wind whistled in the silence, as he scanned over the horizon, recognizing each of his siblings, his kin.

- “The vessel has been named.”

A shiver ran across the crowd, murmurs in the ether of their minds growing louder, voices of worry, agitation stirring up in the crowd. A raised finger, the smallest gesture, and all grew silent, listening to the man as he continued.

- “We must come together as one. I invoke viimievät.”

One stepped forward, up to where the man had set down, kneeling as he placed the back of an open hand against one shoulder and brushing it to the opposite in traditional salute.

- ”Sire, we must be reasonable, mobilizing all-”

The man raised one hand, a wave of cold and quiet rippling away from his palm, the air growing still. The clouds dissipated, the wind turning the grass into a navy ocean of waves in the moonlight.

The stars had gone from the sky.

- ”I have been alive… for over six thousand years now. None are my elder.” Each word was heavy, echoing off of nothing. His voice, austere. Hushed, yet burning, of disturbing intensity.

In his outstretched palm, visions began to coalesce, nebulous shapes of light and dust rolling across the emptiness around in pulses. Shifting, doubling, changing. Horrifying.

- “I was there when She was struck down laughing from her heavens with the cruelest weapon.” His eyes had begun to shine with withering starlight, a glow like plasma flowing through their hair, their form.

- “I heard the screams of my brothers and sisters at the dawn of the Everburn.” Mirages, dancing lights, shifted across their skin, flashes of history continuing to emanate from their hold.

- “I witnessed as the sky was torn open to swallow the Astralim.” The clouds above turned to nebulae as they wreathed their form, growing simultaneously to a hundred feet and remaining grounded.

- “I was the one to cut down the self -made god and sealed the mind that promised to burn our Istra...” Their words echoed in a thousand voices, a hundred hands manifesting and fading around them, their eyes supernova.

A single step forward, all those gathered, a step back, unable to breathe.

They brought just one hand to the chin of the man who had spoken, tilting it upwards, the vision in their eyes being the most horrifying one of all. Tears began streaming from the mans face, evaporating instantly under their unwavering gaze. It was burning itself into his eyes, into his memory, unable to look away. A man of dark eyes and messy hair, standing with a sword of flame and blood. A world razed at his feet.

- ”I stood at the epicenter and survived.” They hissed. “I am Viivoktyn. Do not speak to me of reasons.”

A few seconds that stretched into an infinity passed, the sibilant thrum of energy hanging in the air, before they stood up straight, their form collapsing in on itself. Returning to the simple black robes he had worn before, he turned to look away from them all, before speaking once more, voice returned to a whisper, melting with the wind that had picked up.

- ”Should the vessel claim it’s birthright, none of us will be safe. Not our Istra. Not any world. We must move to keep it from doing so, at all costs and by any means. I say this not as caution, or cowardice. I say this as fear. I have seen what happens when gods touch our world.” He turned, a sharp breath rippling across all those that saw…

It was like staring into a dead star.

Eons of memory etched into their soul, weathered and worn. Weighing heavily on them, a burden born of a bloody past, and borne by them alone. Blood as black as midnight began to pour from a hundred bleeding gashes that refused to close.

Their eyes were dim, as though the previous gold was now at the bottom of a pit, buried under silt in a riverbed, stars a thousand miles away. One of them cried, with crows feet deep as scars, tears on his cheek. The other could not, his other half burned, blackened, craterous.

So old yet so young. Eyes that begged for someone to ask “Child, who had done this to you?” Eyes that proved they never heard it.

- ”I cannot let it happen again.”

Hope you enjoyed! Some bonus inspo pics above!✨

Taglist? Taglist! ✨ Thanks to all these wonderful people for supporting me and giving me the inspiration and motivation to write!

@bloodlessheirbyjacques @athenswrites @magefaery @writingonesdreams @muddshadow @awritingcaitlin @agrimedena-drax @pinespittinink @tryingtimi @jessica-writes22 @the-void-writes

[howlingday]

the girls of rwby (along with nora and pyrrha) are all goddesses who have come to judge humanity... it's not going well and should it continue humanity will be destroyed

only one man can save us, JAUNE ARC! he will have to seduce and romance every one of them to save us all!

.... so how screwed is humanity?

Vice and Virtue

Long ago, far longer than you may remember, there was a time when humanity was truly in it's darkest hour. Horrible, black beasts known as Grimm rampaged across the land, destroying everything man had made. It seemed destiny deemed us unworthy of living, and we were condemned to perish like smoke in the wind.

But then they arrived. Seven, beautiful goddesses fell from the heavens and slew the beasts. Humanity was saved, but the goddesses' work was not yet done, for each bestowed a gift upon us.

From Ruby, the youngest of the Seven, came steel. She taught us to forge tools and weapons to defend ourselves from the Grimm, should we be beyond their grace. Thus, she was declared The Daughter of the Forge.

From Weiss, the stern lieutenant of the Seven, came Dust, a magical element designed to imbue our weapons and tools with properties of the elements themselves! Thus, she was known as the The Heiress of the Elements.

From Blake, the most recluse of the Seven, came knowledge. She taught us to read and write, as well as gifted us with a broader perspective of the world at large. Thus, she was awarded the title of The Mistress of Tomes.

From Yang, the most aggressive of the Seven, came strength. She taught us to no longer fear the beasts, but to grow angry and strike back tenfold of what we lost! Thus, she was acknowledged as The Mother of the Heart.

From Nora, the kindest of the Seven, came joy. She bestowed upon us the gift of laughter, the ability to think positively, to shirk away the horrors of the dark and to accept the light. Thus, she was accepted as the Queen of Laughter.

Yes, yes, children. I am about to tell you of our final goddess; the one who leads both the Seven as well as ourselves. However, you must know that she was the only one of the Seven to not gift humanity with a blessing, for she foresaw a great darkness within humanity; a terrible, evil thing that corrupts us, and forces our will to sin. So, instead, she ordered us to obey the Doctrine of Destiny.

Yes, my children; the very same Doctrine your parents order you to obey every day, from the Sun's Dawn to the Moon's Dusk. Thus, for this order, she was Pyrrha, Champion of Destiny!

Now, how do the Seven rule over us? Well, it all began long ago...

"Aaaaaaugh!" Nora screamed. "This is so boring! Can we please watch a different mortal?!"

"Not yet!" Ruby shouted back. "I need to see if he wins her!"

"You can look back at the dumb sword later!"

"I'll show you a dumb sword!" Ruby leaped over the table, tackling Nora. "It's called my fist!"

"Nora toss!" Ruby flew through the air, landing into Yang and Blake as the two were passing by.

Blake groaned as she sat up from her fall. She looked down at the dazed, smaller goddess, whose head was in her lap. Once Ruby came to, she immediately fell asleep. Blake grumbled and pinched Ruby's cheeks to wake her.

Yang, however, leapt from her fall and charged around the table, chasing the fleeing Nora. The shorter girl wailed and cried as she was pursued, but this did not slow the golden goddess. If anything, it spurred her to pick up her pace.

Weiss, sat down and watched as the mortal failed his test, the sword carried away by an older man, presumably his father. She swiped to a different mortal, who was cowering as another portal pushed him towards the water. Bored with him, she swiped again.

Pyrrha stepped down from her alcove to investigate the chaos. She watched as Yang chased Nora, Ruby sleep on top of Blake, and Weiss swipe across mortals on the viewing port. She sighed as she walked down the steps to the port. Extending a hand, she caught Yang, letting Nora continue to run. As Yang swung at Pyrrha, she caught her fist.

"Stop." Yang lowered her fist, and head, and sat down next to Weiss.

Pyrrha then made her way to Blake, trapped by the sleeping goddess in her lap. She knelt down and tapped her face. The goddess stirred, but did not wake.

"He failed." Ruby immediately awoken and rushed to the port. There she argued with Weiss to use it. Pyrrha helped Blake up and led her to the table, where she sat next to Yang. "Nora." The girl stopped, looking to Pyrrha. "Sit." She did as she was told.

Weiss returned the port to the downtrodden young man in the port. He was sitting on a stump, head down as he sighed.

"Oh no!" Ruby cried. "He did fail!"

"So what? It was just a sword." Nora commented.

"You're just a sword!" Ruby stood to restart her assault, but Yang shot her a glare, and she sat down.

"I'm sure it was a really good sword, but it's not worth fighting over." Yang said, trying to calm Ruby. She watched as the boy sat and moped, head in his hands. She twisted her face in discomfort as she thought. 'Could do without his moping, though.'

"Agh!" Pyrrha gripped her head as her emerald eyes shined with a beautiful, green light. As beautiful as it was, however, it could not compare to the agonizing burning sensation she felt in her head. The others watched, for they knew what this was. It was the reason she was the head of the goddesses, their leader blessed with a powerful gift. Pyrrha was recieving a prophecy, a vision of a destiny to be realized.

And from the pain she was in, it was a prophecy to come soon. A fate that often ended in a death.

The young man stood before Pyrrha, sword in hand. He raised his blade high above him, both hands gripping the hilt, and brought it low. The next image was of the young man weeping over the fallen form of the goddess. She lay still at his feet, his blade soaked in blood.

When Pyrrha came to from her vision, the others surrounded her.

"Step away," Weiss called out, "let her breathe!"

"What happened?" Nora kneeled next to Pyrrha, refusing to back away as the others had. "Did you have a vision?"

"Yes." Pyrrha stood on shaky legs as Nora guided her to her feet. "I foresaw that man, and he will be my death."

The others stood in silence, each slowly turning their heads to the morose lad on his seat. Nora and Ruby shared a look of concern, while Yang and Weiss grit their teeth in anger. Blake, however, approached the port. She studied the mortal as though he were a puzzle to be solved.

After a few moments, she sighed, looking back to Pyrrha. "What do you suggest?"

"I say we kill him!" Yang barked with rage. "A mortal who threatens the goddesses must be dealt with severely!"

"Must you be so barbaric?" Weiss rolled her eyes. "I suggest we place him in the Dust mines. Some hard labor will deter any attack."

"We could just, you know, ignore him?" Nora offered. "He doesn't have a sword, so I don't see why we should even bother worrying about him."

"I say we steal his sword!" Ruby leapt onto the table around the porthole. "He can't hurt us if he doesn't have it!"

Blake sighed, and walked to Pyrrha. Guiding her to her seat, she knelt next to her and massaged her hand. As Pyrrha regained her bearings, Blake asked again.

"What do you suggest?"

Jaune Arc carried hay from the storage unit to the stable. As he tossed it over the fence, two horses approached him, a stallion and a mare. The stallion was black with a fiery-orange mane, and a temper to match. The mare was white with a mane of gold, and spirit as gentle as a morning breeze.

The two shared this stable since they were purchased by his family years ago, since Jaune was only a lad. He had always dreamed of being a warrior, fit for his family name, but it seems he was only fit for tending to these two. But he didn't mind. These two were his responsibility, after all, so it wouldn't be fair to leave them alone for him to play hero.

Still, though, the thoughts never left his mind. He imagined battling ferocious monsters. He dreamed rescuing damsels and the innocent from the wicked. He fantasized traveling outside these lands atop his horse.

But which one? The stallion was certainly brave, if his temper was any way of telling. But his temper was mostly directed towards Jaune. If the boy traveled too close to the stable, the stallion would rear back and charge towards him, before tearing back again and stomping his hooves around him.

Perhaps the mare then? Ah, but where the stallion was bold, she was as shy. She would often hide away into the shade of the stable, leaving it's safety only for meals or when no one else was nearby. She wasn't a mare for heroics. To say she was a mare for anything besides shying away would be completely untrue.

As the two ate from their pile, Jaune leaned in and pet their heads. The stallion grunted while the mare's ears flicked. He smiled and leaned against the fence, sighing with satisfaction.

"Such beautiful creatures, no?"

Jaune looked to his right and saw a robed figure standing next him. They were tall, with a deep crimson robe with golden trimmings. The voice sounded feminine, leading Jaune to think the figure was a woman. She turned and smiled at him, the robe covering the rest of her face. "What are their names?"

"Names?" Jaune looked to the horses, holding his chin with his fingers. "I... don't know. We never named them."

"No? Beautiful creatures deserve beautiful names, no?" She extended her pale, delicate hand towards him. "Like yourself. I'm sure you have a beautiful name."

Jaune blushed a bit at that. "Uh, Jaune. My name is Jaune."

"Jaune." She said his name with a sigh, like it was a pleasant breeze on a clear, summer day. "Why haven't you named these horses, Jaune?"

"I... I don't know." He turned around and leaned back against the fence. "I never thought about naming them."

"Never?" Jaune shook his head. The woman pointed her finger at the stallion, who snorted and flared his nostrils at her. "You have a fiery soul; a temper like a volcano, and twice as dangerous. Henceforth, you will be Vulcan."

The stallion stomped his hooves at his naming, like a child throwing a tantrum. The woman giggled at this and reached into the stable.

"Wait! Don't-!" Jaune reached to woman, but as he grabbed her, he slipped and fell onto his face. He wiped to mud from his face and witnessed something unbelievable.

Vulcan, the stallion who never let anyone near his stable without an offering, placed his head against the woman's palm. He breathed calmly as she stroked her thumb along his hair. She removed her hand and kneeled to lift Jaune to his feet.

"What about her?" She asked, gesturing to the mare. "What would her name be?"

Jaune looked at the mare. She looked back at him, almost expectantly, as she shook her head. She was beautiful; a horse many would fight for just to have and gloat about it. If Jaune were a warrior, he would be proud to be held aloft by such a magnificent creature.

"Gloria." He said. "Her name is Gloria." She trotted by to her shade, but he noticed that she had livelier steps in her canter. He chuckled.

"But what about you?" Jaune looked to the woman. "Does this beautiful creature have a name?"

The woman chuckled. "Indeed." She removed her hood with a smile, and down her head flowed a beautiful river of hair that reminded him of a fire-pit, with piercing eyes like those of gemstone. "I am the disciple of my goddess, the Lady of Black, and my name is Cinder Fall."

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Hi love!

Can I please beg for Tangled Geraskier?

Rapunzel Jask. You know I’m a sucker for angst so including the scene where he cuts her hair would slay me 💖💖💖💖💖

TYILYYYYY

Hello, Stina dear! Sorry this took me actual months to write, but it broke me out of my writer’s block and for that I am eternally grateful.

I chose several pieces of the Tangled narrative to write Geralt and Jaskier into... enjoy! 

2k-ish words (please leave me comments I’m so tired my dudes)

tw: blood, injury, major character (near) death, if you’ve seen Tangled you’ve seen this

---

“So,” Jaskier smiles playfully up at the thief sitting beside him. “Roger Eric, huh?”

Geralt rolls his eyes but Jaskier catches the flush that settles high on his companion’s cheekbones. “It was… It’s a long and boring story about a lot of sad little children that I’m sure you don’t want to hear on such a lovely evening.”

Jaskier scoots closer, until the sides of their arms are pressed too tightly together for even a slip of paper to slide between, and leans his weight against the thief. He bats his thick eyelashes and pouts his lip in a way that always seems to work with his Father. “C’mon, Geralt, please won’t you tell me? Just one little story? I told you about my magical hair, after all.”

“Hmm,” the thief glares dawn at the doe-eyed blonde for a moment before nervously clearing his throat. “Fine. I… I got the name Geralt of Rivia from a collection of short stories that I used to read the other boys at the orphanage in Kaedwen; they were all about this knight who was loyal and brave and courageous despite his hideous appearance. He was rejected by princesses and noble women but was beloved by the people. Having been born with white hair… well, a lot of the folks that came looking for children thought I was under a spell or curse so…. I wasn’t their first choice for adoption.”

“You and Geralt were a lot alike, then. Different. Special… Kind.”

“I wouldn’t say I was spe-”

Jaskier’s hand darts forward and his long, slender musician’s fingers grasp Geralt by the wrist. The fledgling bard clings onto his escort tightly, his large blue eyes suddenly brimming up with tears. “Don’t you dare say you aren’t special, Geralt Roger Eric whatever your surname really is. I’ll never forgive you if you spew such nonsense where my delicate ears can hear it.”

Geralt swallows thickly and glances away. Jaskier always looks so sweet and sincere; the features on his boyish face flicker in and out of focus as patterns of light thrown by their small campfire play across his pale skin. His gaze is intense, focused on Geralt and Geralt alone. The thief panics and asks: “What is it, Jaskier? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You saved me, you know. You saved me from those men back there at the inn, you saved me from being trapped in the tower all my life, you saved me from getting lost in the forest, you… you’re a good person, Geralt. Don’t let the world or the Captain of the Guard or anyone else change your mind, do you understand me? You are-” Jaskier’s hands scrabble frantically to grasp Geralt’s, as if the white-haired man might disappear entirely if Jaskier so much as loosens his grip “- you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me since I’ve been locked in that foul, awful tower!”

“Well I…” Geralt clears his throat again. He stands slowly, disentangling his hangs from Jaskier’s as he takes a slow step back. And then another. “I should go get more firewood.”

Despite the uneasiness in their parting, Jaskier smiles after him. 

The momentary spell cast by their closeness is only broken when Jaskier hears a familiar voice from just behind him: “Well, I thought he’d never leave!”

The blonde jumps up from his seat and spins on his heel to face the black-cloaked wizard. “Father? How… How did you find me?”

Stregobor wraps his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders and squeezes so tightly that it feels more like a threat than an embrace. “It was easy, I simply followed the sound of absolute betrayal.”

Jaskier flinches and tries to pull away but cannot yet escape. 

“I just brought you this,” his Father continues. He finally releases Jaskier and hands his son the worn leather satchel he’d found hidden in his tower. “If this Geralt creature really is the man you think him to be -and don’t deny it, little flower, I can read your thoughts- give this back to him and see how long he stays.”

“Father, I-”

“Goodbye, my child. See you soon, I’m sure. Just remember that Father knows best!”

And in a swirl of black smoke and confusion, Stregobor disappears.

---

“Why do you look so scared?” Geralt asks. He slows the small gondola he’s rented to a stop, turning it slightly more to the side so that they have a better vantage point to see the lanterns spread over the harbor from the city. Jaskier sighs deeply and shakes a stray flower petal away from his eyes, the enormous golden braid shifting ever-so-slightly against his shoulders.

“I’ve been looking out a window for eighteen years,” he says softly. Nervously. “What if… What if it’s not what I expected? I’m terrified to see what it all looks like up close because what if it doesn’t meet my expectations? What if it’s not everything I dreamed it would be?”

“It will be,” Geralt replies without thinking. 

“And what if it is?” Jaskier queries, voice growing frantic. “What if it’s even more spectacular than I could have ever hoped? Then my dream will have been fulfilled and I’ll just… go back to the tower again.”

“You’ll just have to find a new dream, I guess,” Geralt offers. When Jaskier settles down into the boat a bit more comfortably and smiles shyly back at him, the thief knows he’s hit the right mark for once. Behind Geralt, the first lantern lights up the sky. Jaskier gasps and points, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement; Geralt is utterly enchanted by his easy beauty. The thief digs two paper lanterns out from beneath his seat and offers one to Jaskier, giddy when he grins even more excitedly than before. “I got this for you… I hope you like it.”

“Oh, I love it! And I have something for you, too.” Jaskier turns and pulls something from behind him. The bardling hands Geralt his very own satchel, which the thief briefly accepts and then drops to the floor without a second thought. The anxious blonde musician beams over at him more gloriously than the midday sun and then turns away, blushing a sweet shade of pink. “I should have given it to you earlier, but I was so scared… and now I’m not! I’m not scared anymore!”

“Good,” Geralt smiles back. He’s elated. It feels as if his heart is glowing twice as brightly as any of the lanterns floating past and around them. “That’s very good.”

I know what my dream is now, Jaskier. Now that you’re here by my side I never want to see you frown again. You don’t deserve to be hidden away in a tower where your art is stifled… even if you don’t want to love me back in that way, I’ll still protect you. I want to see how you see the world, Jaskier. I lo-

“Geralt! Look! That one has runes painted on it, what does it say!?”

---

Geralt pulls his daggers from his belt but before he can stab them into the craigy stone wall and begin his ascent, the familiar tresses of Jaskier’s long golden hair topple down to reach him. Thank fuck, he’s still alive. 

“Jaskier! I thought I’d never see you again!” he calls as he grabs hold of the thick blonde strands. 

The thief climbs quickly, his arms and legs nearly cramping with the effort to hurry back to Jaskier. As he hauls himself through the large window and into the tower proper, however, he’s met with a confusing and unsettling sight: Jaskier stands across the room, a cloth gag pulled tightly between his teeth, his hands manacled together behind him. A short length of spare chain attached to the manacles keeps the frightened, struggling blonde tethered against one of the building’s thick support beams. Someone had knocked down a mirror or vase during the previous fighting; shards of pottery and silver lie scattered across the floor, working as a weak barrier to keep Geralt away from the bound man. Jaskier screams out in warning as their eyes meet: “Ghmphh!”

If Jaskier is being held captive then who let his hair do-

Before Geralt can finish fully forming his question, a bright flash of pain arcs out from his side and sends him toppling to his knees. A wet, sticky heat begins to spread from a spot beneath his ribs and when he presses his hand against his shirt it comes way red. 

Oh. Oh, no...

He hears Stregobor’s voice addressing the sobbing blonde, “Now look what you’ve done, Jaskier.”

Geralt collapses to his knees and then falls to his side, curling up in the fetal position and clutching at the wound as if that will be any help at all. He knows he’s doomed, but there must be some way for him to help Jaskier… to save his… his love. 

“Don’t worry, little flower, our secret will die with your little thief, here, and then we’ll be safe again. Just the two of us.”

Jaskier keens loudly and the sharp, desperate sound of it makes something deep in Geralt’s heart ache. The younger man pulls and yanks against the chains that hold him in place, his bare feet slipping against the polished floor as he tries and fails to reach the wounded Geralt. 

Stregobor yanks at the lead, pulling Jaskier back harshly by the arms. The young musician’s shoulders burn with the strain of it but Jaskier pulls forward anyway, uncaring. He must save Geralt, he must. The wizard tugs him back again, more roughly, and the jarring movement loosens his gag. He spits it from his mouth and cries out: “Stregobor! Strego- Father, listen to me!”

The wizard pauses, his interest piqued by Jaskier’s use of the word Father given the circumstances. “Yes, child?”

“Father,” Jaskier pants, turning to look at the man who’d held him captive for eighteen years. The man who kidnapped him from his cradle and forced him to grow up without the love of his real parents. The man who had, mere moments ago, stabbed the love of Jaskier’s life with the full intention of killing him. “I want you to know that I won’t stop fighting you. Every moment of every day for the rest of my life will be spent trying to get away from you. I will scream and kick and struggle and yell and you will have to keep me caged away as a bird or a mouse to make me stay by your side unless-” Jaskier pauses to take a breath, his shoulders sagging as his gaze drops submissively to the floor between them “-unless you let me save this man. Let me save Geralt’s life and I will follow you all around the Continent without a single word of complaint. I will never attempt to run away or hide from you, not once. Everything will go back to being exactly like it was before, Father, I swear on his life.”

Stregobor considers for a moment. 

He nods. 

“Alright, then. Let’s be quick about it, little flower.”

He removes the shackles from Jaskier and clamps them tightly around Geralt’s wrists instead, securing him to the bannister at the foot of the stairs. To keep him from following us, he remarks offhandedly. 

Jaskier pads his way across the floor as quickly as he can in his bare feet and falls to the ground at Geralt’s side. He pulls the wounded thief against his side to steady him and gathers two heavy handfuls of his own long hair. “I’m so sorry! Everything is going to be okay now, Geralt, I swear it.”

Geralt shoves his hands away weakly, “No, Jaskier.”

“You have to trust me, Geralt, I-”

“I c-can’t let you d-do this,” Geralt grunts, teeth gritted against the pain. 

Jaskier stares down at him, tears already gathering at the corners of his sky-blue eyes. His voice trembles when he whispers, “And I can’t let you die. I won’t let you die.”

“But if you do th-this then you-” Geralt coughs and Jaskier wipes a trickle of blood away from the corner of the thief’s mouth “-you will die.”

“Shh,” Jaskier quiets him, dropping one fistfull of blonde tresses to cup Geralt’s face instead. “Everything will be alright.”

Geralt smiles sadly up at Jaskier, his decision already having been made. He lets the back of his knuckles ghost across the musician’s peach-soft cheek. Jaskier’s eyes flutter shut for a moment and then open again, curious. “Jaskier, I…”

The thief uses the last of his strength to push up into a sitting position. The hand on Jaskier’s face slides back and gathers his hair at the back of his neck. Geralt’s other hand comes up, a shard of glass gripped tightly in his fist, and slices through the long blonde strands. He watches as Jaskier’s hair turns from radiant gold to chestnut brown. Geralt falls back with a short, sharp sound of agony, his vision already fading around the edges. The shard of mirror, dagger-sharp around the edges, clatters to the ground beside Jaskier. 

“No!” Stregobor screams, gathering up an armful of Jaskier’s still-blonde hair. The golden hue is already fading, shifting to match the short brown hair still fluffed around his head. The lost prince watches with wide, horrified eyes as the wizard trips over a loose floorboard and goes careening out the open window. 

More worrying than his kidnapper’s death, however, is the man lying in his arms, breathing shallowly. Jaskier gathers Geralt close, tucking the thief’s head against his neck and wrapping his arms around the older man’s broad shoulders. “No, no, no, no, Geralt. Stay with me, okay? Stay with me, right here.”

He grabbed at Geralt’s hand, holding it against the top of his head as he sang desperately. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back was once was mi-”

“Jaskier!” Geralt says, pulling his hand down to cup the prince’s face. He can feel his limbs growing cold and numb, distant from him and out of his control. “You… You were my new dream.”

Jaskier sobs, clinging to Geralt with all he’s worth. “And you were mine.”

Geralt manages to smile up into those beautiful blue eyes one last time. And then the world goes dark and his hand falls to the floor, limp.

---

Jaskier buries his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck and screams. He throws back his head and howls like a wounded animal, his heart shattering to pieces within the confines of his chest cavity. Then he quiets himself down, adjusts Geralt’s body on his lap, and finishes the song the way he’s been taught to do: “Heal what has been hurt, change the Fates’ design, save what has been lost… bring back what once was mine.”

A single tear falls from his eye and lands on Geralt’s cheek. A cheek that will never blush again, never turn up in a smile, never-

A faint yellow glow catches Jaskier’s vision, just from the corner of his eye. He turns his head to look at Geralt’s wound and gasps: the outline of a golden flower covers his abdomen, glowing so brightly that Jaskier must hide his eyes and turn away to keep from being blinded. When the glow fades enough that can safely look back again, Geralt’s wound is gone and the blood that was once staining his jerkin has disappeared. 

He leans over the white-haired thief with bated breath, waiting for a movement or a breath or something… anything. 

After a long moment, two honey-hazel eyes blink open. Geralt inhales quietly and then asks, with the sweetest smile Jaskier has ever seen in all his eighteen years of life, “Did I ever tell you I had a thing for brunettes?”

Jaskier squeals with glee and throws himself into Geralt’s waiting arms, pressing their eager mouths together for the first kiss of their Happily Ever After.