#So I thought about it and decided that Mage of Rage was something that felt like it fit well enough~

[fdragon-art]

Day 51 (30 Days | Homestuck - Day 29) - Fantrolls/Fankids time! ("Made of Rage (WIP)")

"The Mage of Rage can be especially volatile. Even while knowing their rage so fully, they're still unable to truly stop it. Handled well, and they may tear a path through enemies as easy as a knife through grub sauce.

Handled poorly? Well...let's not dwell about that, shall we?"

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Ngl I've been thinking about tev Yuuniverse too but explicitly the part where they all eventually have to die.

Idk I may write this as a one-shot or something if requested yk?

🙋🏽‍♂️🙋‍♀️I volunteer to request

🐱

The Murder of Yuu 

I decided to cut out the opening ceremony and chandelier cause it was boring and not an interesting read, may do a part two with a good and bad ending. It's up to interpretation if Yuu dies or lives.

Tws: Gn! Yuu, Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Potential Gore Tw??, Overall angst and stuff. 9k Words

Ace’s Fireball

“Ahahaha!” The red-head’s grating laugh reverberated in your head. “Anyways, just thought I’d tease you for a bit and I’m glad I did, it’s been a blast! Unlike you two, I actually have classes to get to!” The bratty student sneered at you and your companion before walking off. You simply rolled your eyes and continued your job. You had better things to do than to fight with some snot-nosed brat.

Grim, however, had other plans. “No way you just insulted me like that, Explodey-Head!” “Hah?” The red head glared, amused. “Who’re you callin' names, kitty-cat?” “Why you—“ Grim suddenly spewed out a plume of fire right at Ace making him yelp.

“Oh you wanna play like that, huh?!” Ace yelled. He started to send a few spells Grims way, a few missing and hitting a little too close to you. Instinctively, you backed into the Queen of Hearts statue behind you. “Cut it out you guys!” “Oh shut it, janitor!” Ace snapped, Grim threw another fireball right at Ace, just for him to cast wind redirect it… directly to the statue where you were at. You stared at the ball of flames, knowing there was no way to avoid it as you covered your eyes to try and at least protect them.

“No! Wait!” The prefect yelled before letting out a deafening shriek as the flame made contact with their face, enveloping up their skin and hair within an instant. The redhead froze as a crowd gathered around the scene, horrified murmurs and gasps erupted from within the group.

The prefect crumpled, trying their best to put out the fire and suffocate it while crying out for help. Oh shit, oh shit what has he done?! No! It wasn't his fault that stupid janitor stood where they were! Ace’s mind was in a frenzy, complete panic enveloping him as all he could do was stand in watch, the thought of putting out the poor student not even occurring to him. Grim frantically jumped around them, swatting at the flames and crying out their name. Ace tried to cast a few water spells, but they were reduced to steam the second they made contact with your skin

The familiar tapping of a pair of heels approached him, quicking as they got closer. Oh fuck he was really in trouble now. None of his spells were helping. The headmage approached the scene. “Oh dear god, Yuu!” The crow said horrified, immediately running to their side and using the magic cloak he had to put out the flame. The Prefect stopped flailing and curled into a ball, covering their face as much as they could with the cloak around them. 

Most of their clothes were either burned or singed at this point. The fingers that peaked out, looked as if they were melting as they pulled the cloak even further onto them to hide their face. “Everyone dismissed!” The mage yells out with a newfound rage, scooping up the student and rushing to the nurses office. The crowd dispersed, all trying to get back to class except for two. “H…henchman… HENCHMAN!” Grim shrieked before running off after Crowley 

And Ace just stood there, the events of everything weighing in on him. He should consider himself lucky that the headmage was too busy with Yuu to even try and figure out what happened, but instead he felt sick. The students hands and legs shook as he tried to move.

He's so sorry…

Deuce’s Recklessness

“Get away from that thing!” Grim shrieks as he sprints on all fours, running out of the mine. “But the magestone!” Deuce cries out. “We need the magestone!” “We need to be alive to get it!” Ace huffs as he pulls on Deuce’s arm to drag him out of the mines.

“No, we can't give up like this!” Deuce yells out before pulling his arm away. “Deuce! What the hell are you doing?!” Yuu cried out as the card soldier ran back into the mines, directly to the strange monster within it. “Stoones! The stones are MINE!” It screeched as it sped up to meet with Deuce.

“I can't get kicked out! I need to risk it—“ Deuce desperately wheezed. He would slide between the monster's legs and back into the mines to grab that stone, even if it killed him! Deuce was so tunnel-visioned in his own plan, he didn't even see the pickaxe ready to swing down on him.

“Deuce!” Yuu cried out. It was the last thing he heard before he felt himself being pushed into the side of the cave wall. The runner’s back collided with the rocks behind him as he collapsed onto his knees. Where he sat gave him the perfect view of what was about to happen.

Yuu pushed their entire body into him to get him out of the way, making the prefect in turn take Deuce’s place in front of the blot. As they fell, Deuce realized there was no way for them to possibly avoid the attack coming down on them. He felt sick as he watched the concerned face in front of him contort into a cry, their eyes widening as the pick lodged itself into the spine of the magicless student, coming out through their stomach

The prefect wretched, gagging as they started to cough up blood. “YUU!” Deuce panicked, throwing himself over to where Yuu was in an attempt to try and save them, just for them to be dragged into the darkness of the cave. Yuu cried out in pain as the monster held them by the pick, crying out for it to stop.

“No… NO!” Deuce was frozen as he watched the silhouette of the creature take out the pickaxe, just to lodge it into the crumpled figure’s head. “Henchman!” Grim cried. “C’mon let's go!” Deuce felt Ace grab onto his arm to pull him back onto his feet and drag him out of the cave. He felt like he was going to throw up.

“Fuck…” Ace huffed, panting, staring in disbelief at the cave in front of him. Grim also stared, face completely blank as he sat where he stood, as if processing what just happened. Deuce wretched, covering his mouth. He was so stupid! He should have never been so… so… stupid! That student, who he barely learned the name of, died because of him. Died protecting him. Just because of his stupidity. 

It was all his fault.

Riddle Overblot

“Riddle…” Trey panted, brushing the hair out of Riddle’s sweat-slicken face. The clover's face paint was smeared and his hair disheveled, hat nowhere to be seen as the man adjusts his cracked glasses. This was the first time Riddle has ever seen his friend like this. He looked panicked, shaken up. 

Something was wrong. Why did his body hurt so much? Why was his head pounding?

“Trey…?” His voice was hoarse and dry. 

“What… what happened…” The last thing he remembers was being angry… “What… what did I do?'' The last line came out weak. 

Looking over, he saw a certain problem freshman approach him, shaking with rage and tears in his eyes. His mind kept telling him to stop, that he shouldn't look at what his dorm members were crowding around, but he pushed himself up on his arms.

He was immediately hit with the scent of iron hanging heavy in the air, smell making him nauseous as it assaulted his senses. As he sat up he noticed how Cater and Deuce seemed to tense up, fear in their eyes. They were completely on edge. Ace stopped in front of Riddle, opening his mouth in an attempt to yell at him before closing it as a sob came out instead.

In that moment he realized what happened. “Who did I… Who was it?” Riddle’s voice shook as Ace glared. “Who?” Trey looked away from him, Riddle pushed himself up to his feet as he saw who Deuce stood in front of protectively as the other students backed away in fear, even Cater hiding the crowd. The spade and heart didn’t budge. Even Grim stood strong.

It was Yuu. The student who has been nothing but kind and concerned over him. The one that he berated and criticized over and over. The one he was never nice to once throughout their time at NRC. Their body now impaled through a rose bush, some of the thorny branches weaving under their skin and poking out like it was growing into them. They were not dead yet though.

Their chest twitched in an attempt to breathe and Deuce held their head up for up so they wouldn't suffocate on their own spit. With his other hand he attempted a few healing spells, but each one fizzled out from inexperience. “Dammit! Will one of you just help me!” He cried out to the crowd, but no one came.

Yuu’s eyes were watery as let out a sob. “I dont…” they wheezed. “I don't want to die like this! I never…” “Shh shh, save your energy.” Ace commanded, helping Deuce with holding them up and using the tie around his neck as makeshift bandages. “I never got to see the world…” the prefect continued. “Don’t say that!” Grim yapped. 

“I don't want to die like this, surrounded by strangers! I don't want to die alone!” Tears started to fall from everyone as the student spoke manically, each word faster than the last. “I want to go home! I want to go home! I want to be with my family! My friends! Not here! Not like this!…” The prefect started hyperventilating, now in complete hysterics. “Yuu, please!” Deuce sobbed. “I don't….” Yuu’s eyes started to glaze over. “I don't…”

Riddle shook, tears streaming down his face as hesitantly reached out his hand just to receive glares from the trio in front of him. “I’m sorry…” He stuttered. “Im so sorry…” Ace suddenly seems to snap. “Sorry isn't going to do shit! It’s not gonna bring them back!” The heart shakes, hatred evident in his eyes.

He was right.

Ruggie’s Slip-up

“Get back here!” Grim yelled as Ruggie snickered, gripping onto all of the magical pens he snagged from the freshmen. Poor poor freshies, not knowing where to stick their nose. It’s their fault they got involved. 

“Dammit he's fast!” Ace wheezed. “Don't let him get away!” the spade next to him spoke, following right on his tail. Oh this was too easy! A simple turn and he's— As Ruggie turned the corner, the flash of a camera blinded him. He blinked to see no other than Yuu, ghost camera in hand. “Caught you.” 

Shit shit shit. Did they have enough evidence? Ruggie began to sweat before he lunged at the prefect, aiming for the camera in their hand. But the prefect was slick, easily dodging the attempt. Hmph, fine, what can a simple magicless human do against this!

“Laugh with me!” Ruggie smirked as he took control of the prefect's body, what he didn’t account for was Yuu’s position— and his magic was not immune to gravity. What he planned on doing was making Yuu hand the camera to them, what he didn't realize was just how close they were to the edge of the balcony and that they were still airborne from jumping away from him.  Yuu gasped as their arm stuck out behind them, making them no longer able to catch themselves as they hit the balustrade and fell off the edge down to the ground below. 

Ruggie froze. “Yuu!” A choir of voices exclaimed as they rushed to the railing where Yuu fell from looking over. He has to retreat, now, the prefect should be fine, it's not that high up! Panicking, Ruggie dropped the magical pens in an unspoken apology as he ran off. “Holy shit that's a lot of blood…” he heard one of the freshies say. Pfft how is that possible unless they broke a bone or hit their h…ead…

Ruggie peaked over the railing as he ran, though it was far away his hyena eyes locked on to the ground below. The ghost camera’s parts were scattered across the field, and blood was splattered everywhere, originating from their head now cracked open. 

Adrenaline kicked in, and Ruggie started running faster. It was an accident, he tells himself, they'll be fine, he's done some bad stuff before but he’d never kill someone! They couldn't pin it on him anymore anyways! It was just an accident. 

It was just an accident!

Leona Overblot

Leona felt his head pounding as he sat up. The lion let out a groan as he rubs his head and looks around. Piles of sand surrounded him, and he sees some of the freshmen shakily get up, heavily bruised. Those damned Diasomnia dogs also stood about on their guard as the smallest one, Lilia, seemed to sift for the sand as if looking for something. Riddle himself was on his knees as he dug, allowing himself to get filthy. 

Across from him Ruggie sits, holding his arm that was dry and cracked from his Unique Magic. An attempt on his own vice leader's life. The hyena warily glares at him, more fearful than angry as he stares at something behind Leona. “Ruggie… I…” “Do you remember what you did?” Another voice cuts in, Lilia’s.

The lion looked at the fae that stood beside him, noting at how frantic the freshmen were in the background, digging through sand piles, even Jack was in his wolf form as raced around them. “I overblotted… Didn’t I?” Lilia’s gaze was unreadable, he didn’t look angry, however the neutral expression he had was mixed with pity. Ruggie pushes himself further away from Leona. “You did more than that,” he wheezes out as he scoots back, staring at someone behind Lilia. Leona turns to look only to see the lizard bastard walking through the sand, his guards on either side of them.

What happened? Why is everyone so worried? Why are those stupid freshmen digging about? Actually wait, where's that ramshackle scavenger? “Kingscholar,” Malleus paused, voice filled with disbelief, “What have you done?” What did he do? He didn't do whatever he think he did… right…?

With a wave of Malleus' hand, he blows away the sand gently, leaving behind a large pile of what looked like ash. Was that…?

Deuce immediately ran over, allowing himself to skid on the ground kicking up dust as examined the pile. Ace, Grim, Riddle, Jack and even Lilia kneeled down at it. “I feel something!” Riddle gasps, pushing off blackened sand to reveal an arm sticking out. The others start to carefully dig out the figure from the sand as Leona could only watch, unable to stand up. Malleus along with his retainers joined.

Leona could see the body emerge from the sand, their head carefully cradled and laid onto Malleus’ lap as the fae examined their tear-stained face covered in a layer of dust. There wasn't an inch of skin on them that wasn't dried or cracked, some of it completely breaking off to sand, muscle was exposed and oozed blood. “Careful, try not to touch them, they're still alive.” Lilia's calm voice leaves no room for argument. 

Riddle carefully holds his hand over Yuu’s body, warm light emanating from it to soothe the prefect's pain. Yuu lets out a strangled wheeze, and suddenly turns their head to the side and hacks up a mix of sand, bile, and blood. “Fuck, I’m sorry!” They cry out, wheezing, trying to catch their breath. “Back away. I’ll take care of it.” Malleus demands as the sky turns dark and cloudy. Everyone obeys, and Malleus gestures with his fingers, making whatever remains of Yuu float upwards.

Their clothes were tattered and you couldn’t even see a patch of skin on them that wasn't drowned out by cracks or blood, even their eyelids were cracked, making tears leak out easier. “It hurts… it hurts so fucking much…” Leona swallowed, standing up as he saw double and reaching out to Yuu in front of him.

“Away from the young master!” Sebek said through gritted teeth, surprisingly quiet as to not disturb Yuu further. “You have done enough already! Now stay back!” The half-fae scowled, eyes watery. Leona retracts his hand and stares at it, ignoring all the murderous stares sent his way.

He really does destroy everything, doesn’t he?

Jade’s Mistake

Jade was a calculating eel. Everything he does is done with purpose, from what he cooks to what he says, to what emotions he shows. Jade is aware of his strength as well.

Like his brother, he knows when to reign it in and hold back, humans are so much more fragile than mers, after all. He doesn’t need to use a lot of force with how dense his bones were from living in the ocean, still he does test out various assortments of forces on others. Everyone around him was his personal lab rat really, he's quite fine with being alone.

If anyone expected one of the twins to take it too far, they would have never expected it to be Jade. Jade could hardly believe it himself either. He was just doing business as usual. Jade simply had to make sure the naive little freshmen got a reality check. There was no way they could ever win against the contract they made. Azul sent them out to make sure of that, yet this human, a magicless one, of all things, seeks to oppose them? How utterly interesting, and here he thought the prefect was boring.

The freshmen's spells were nothing noteworthy, his brother's magic made it so that he didn’t even need to attempt to dodge. And yet, that magicless little prefect charged onwards despite having no way of defending themselves, as if they actually expected to somehow slip past him. Jade chuckled, making a show of his eel form as raised his tail and then dipped down to the sand, not giving Yuu a chance to react as his tail snatched them up, coiling around their waist and arms, binding them.

Floyd squealed with laughter as he watched his brother come back up to him with Yuu in tow as they kicked and squirmed, struggling against the slippery eel. “Hey! Let my henchman go!” Grim snarled as Jade flaunted the prefect in front of him. “I do wonder, do you still plan on attacking us when there's a possibility you can hurt your darling prefect?” “Dammit!” Jack huffs, and all the freshmen look at each other, unsure of what to do next.

Yuu however has not given up, they have a fire of defiance in their eye that turns Jade intrigue to excitement. They were smart, he noted, the prefect kept their arms out to their side in order to give them the most space they could muster, though it didn't matter much with his grip. They used their bound arms and their hands to push against his tail, in an attempt to unravel it, even twisting their body to loosen Jade’s hold. In response, Jade squeezed ever so tighter, yet they still didn’t give up.

They thrashed again, making Floyd cackle and Jade chuckle. This time the prefect was using their own biology against him, using the mucus on his body as a form of lubrication in an attempt to slide out despite the tight hold. Jade decided to entertain them, slightly loosening his hold on them to see the flash of hope in their eyes, before squeezing even tighter.

The prefect wheezed, then snapped their head down in attempt to bite him, only to have their face held back by him by yanking back their hair. “Aw, you poor unfortunate soul~ In pain, in need.” Jade didn’t bother to hide his sadistic smirk. “Let go of them!” Deuce yelled, making Floyd shriek with laughter once again. Yet despite everything, Yuu still kicked, still squirmed. Just how much would it take for them to stop? It would be a great experiment~

Jade tightened his grip, not even allowing for the slight squirm, yet the prefect continued to kick their legs out, this time more panicked. Tighter, and tighter, and— Crack!

Floyd suddenly snapped his head over his brother, looking at his prey. “Yuu? YUU!” Ace was the first to try and swim up to the tweel, not caring if he was attacked. The prefect's eyes were glossy, their body stiff, but they were alive as they writhed in pain. Jade completely unraveled around Yuu, allowing them to slip out. He grabbed at them, trying to assess the injury done to them, just for them to pull away. He assumed they were going to swim off to Ace but they didn’t.

They cough out bloody air bubbles as they hold their throat as if they were suffocating, before using what was left of their strength to swim up towards the surface. The tweels understood immediately. Jade wrapped his tail around them gently, and Floyd gripped onto him to help propel them to the surface faster, the student shivering the whole time.

Once they breached, Yuu took a deep breath of air before throwing up seawater trapped in their lungs. Jade laid out on the surface to give Yuu more of an area to work with as he tried to see what was broken. Yuu was still shivering for some reason, was it just adrenaline? 

“Little shrimp, are you okay?” Floyd asked, voice laced with panic. In the distance the other freshmen breach the surface, looking around for the tweels that blended in with their environment seamlessly. Yuu seemed to gurgle. Despite the fact they had air, they were still suffocating. But from what?

Suddenly Yuu coughed more blood, trying to choke in air as they crumpled onto Jade, smearing his chest a deep red. They shivered more and more. The realization hit Jade. “Their ribs must punctured their lungs.” Jade notes, and he tries to sit Yuu's body up as it starts to go limp. 

“Yuu!” Grim huffs as he swims over to the tweels and reaches out to his leader. “Geez, you're freezing! Come on, come on! Let's get you back to some heat!” Jade's eyes widened further as another realization hit him. Grim and the other freshmen were completely dry still from the effects of their potion. Yuu on the other hand has goosebumps all over their body and trembled. The potion must have worn off when their lungs were punctured, and now it was a race between them choking on their blood and hypothermia.

“Yuu!” Deuce cried out, “Give them back, we need to take them to the nurse!” They were practically already dead. “Shrimpy? Shrimpy? Little shrimp! Hey!” Floyd lightly shook the human. “They won't make it to the nurse. Our best bet is a mer doctor.” Jade suddenly commanded, casting a warming spell on his body. “Floyd, using a water breathing spell, hurry!” 

The freshmen cursed at the eels as they swam off in a frenzy, Yuu cradled gently in Jade's arms as the two glid through the water with ease. “Hang in there prefect, help is almost here.” Jade spoke, though for once it was more to soothe himself as adrenaline and guilt coursed through him. 

Humans really were weak, huh?

Floyd’s Mistake

As you imagine, it was during the photo heist of book 3 as well. It just so happened that this time, Yuu ended up in Floyd’s grasp instead. His slip up could have been seen a mile away. Everyone expected it, they just never expected it to be so violent. 

Floyd liked the little shrimpy! They were fun and squishy and never boring! They always got into some sort of trouble, and here they were literally signing up for it as they signed the contract that started it all. Even when he confronted them in the cafeteria, they would shy away until he started to mess with their friends, then suddenly the little shrimp became a mantis shrimpy.

To say Floyd was excited to meet shrimpy in the water was an understatement, he was elated! He couldn't wait to see how his little shrimp would fight back against the big bad eels! Would they be boring and give up? Or will they fight to the very end?

Floyd relished the panicked expression on their face when they saw the shadow of his figure in the water before he came into the view. The shock became a fiery determination that Floyd was going to have fun toying with. The annoying freshies fired their annoying spells at him that he didn’t even entertain dodging, opting to just use his magic instead.

The little shrimp had no magic, so what were they gonna do in the water? Floyd looked at the group of freshies just to see that Yuu wasn't there. Did the shrimpy decide to go back? That doesn’t seem like shrimpy though. Floyd looked around, just for his eyes to catch onto a small figure hiding amongst the seaweed during all of the crossfire. Ah so that's what shrimpy’s trying to do! What a smart little shrimpy!

The eel cackles maniacally as he dives down and snaps his tail around Yuu in a violent motion, knocking the wind out of them in one move. Floyd then swims back to Jade, showing off his catch. “Jade, looky looky~ I caught myself a little shrimpy!~” Floyd teases as he gently shakes the prefect.

“Hold your spells, they got Yuu!” Jack warned the others as they held back a spell, cursing under their breaths.  “Ahahah! Whatcha small fry gonna do now?” Floyd teases. “Floyd, you should consider binding your preys arms, you know?” “Eh but it's boring if they can't do anything, huh shrimpy?” Floyd uses the remainder of his tail to make Yuu nod before laughing again.

Yuu swings as Floyd, just for the eel to lean back. “Nice try!~” The eel's voice suddenly drops lower into a more threatening and serious tone. “You don't seriously think you're winning, are you?” Yuu kicks and pushes at the tail wrapped around them. “Okay I get we're fighting but you're squeezing too tight Floyd! It hurts!” Yuu uses their fists to pound against Floyds tail.

“Oh yeah? Really? I say its not tight enough…” “Floyd.” His brother's warning falls on deaf fins as Floyd leans in face-to-face with Yuu before squeezing tighter, making Yuu cough and tear up. Just as Floyd was about to let go, satisfied with his warning, Yuu suddenly shoves their fingers into the gills on Floyd’s neck violently gripping the slits of flesh. “Let go of me, you fucking bastard! I can’t breathe!” The prefect screams.

Floyd lets out a strangled gasp as he coughs, the feeling of Yuus nails scratching the inside of his throat making him feel nauseous. Their other hand finds the gills on his sides and pinches them roughly. Floyd then violently digs his claws into Yuu’s arm, making them straighten out their fingers in pain, enough for him to yank them out with ease. Yuu let out a cry of pain, but he doesn't loosen his grip at all, rather driving his claws in deeper. His other hand grabs onto Yuu’s neck in effort to push them away further without compromising his hold.

“Bad shrimpy!” Floyd yells. “Floyd please, I'm sorry but I need to—“ Snap.

“Shrimpy?” Yuu was limp, Floyd shook them slightly. “Hey shrimpy! This isn't funny! Shrimpy! Come on, Shrimpy!” There was no response. “Yuu… I…” A blast of flora hits Floyd in the chest, making him drop Yuu, the prefect unable to hold up their own head. “Get them and get out!” Grim yelps as the trio of students go to grab their friend. Deuce holds onto Yuu, holding their head carefully and applying pressure to the puncture wounds on their neck.

Floyd freezes and looks at his grip on their arm. His claws threatened to go all the way through and the bones were both now broken. Yuu let out a painful shriek, but it was off, garbled. Floyd looks over to his grip on Yuu's neck, his claws digging deep into their throat.

“Guys, they aren't breathing!” Deuce’s voice is shrill with terror. “Get them back through the portal now!” Jack yells. The students all book it back to NRC. Floyd watches with Jade, before the two start to swoop in, hoping they can help the group get back faster just to have a fireball thrown at them.

“You! You've both done enough! Stay away from my human!” Grim growls. “I understand your reservations but we're trying to help.” Jade attempts to soothe. “Yeah right! Like I trust you! I don't care if I get beat up here, which I won't! I'm not letting you hurt them!” Grim stands strong, unleashing another fireball for them to dodge

"You twins wouldnt get it, you have each other! You've always had each other, a nice family, a home! I never had any of that! Then one day, BAM the nicest henchman ever appears and helps me get into my dream school!” Grim is sobbing at this point.

“And they supported me the whole way through! Even though I’m not even human! Even when I get in trouble, they still treat me like I'm the best thing that ever happened to them despite my race! And now they might..!” Grim shakes. 

“I'm not letting you near them! Not now! Not ever!”

Azul Overblot

Azuls eyes fluttered open, blurry vision clearing up to see Jade kneeling over him. “Are you up? Can you see me okay? Can you hear me?” “Yes… yes I can…” His throat hurt, his body was sore. “Follow my hand…” Jade waves his hand over Azul’s face to see if his eyes track it. Azul shuts his eyes for a moment before opening them again to look at Jade, his hair a disheveled mess. He could hear Floyd crying in the background.

“What… What happened? What’s going on??” Azul rubbed his forehead as he sat himself up. “It's Yuu! They’re dead!” “What?!” Azul snapped himself up just to hold his head in pain at the sudden movement. “Don’t say that!” Grim screeches at Floyd. “They can pull through!”

“Stop hovering!” Leona barks at Floyd as he props up the prefect on his lap. “We need to give them CPR now before anything else, they won't even be able to make it to the nurses otherwise.” Leona says as he ties back his hair. “You guys, their ribs are gonna have to break even more, prepare to heal them.” Leona presses his mouth to the prefects, blowing in air and giving rough chest but rhythmic chest compressions to them, the sound of cartilage crackling and snapping made Azul cringe inwardly as an invertebrate as he looked over at Yuu.

Their skin was paler than before from the lack of oxygen was the first thing he noticed, it was hard to really see what he had done with the amount of people crowding them. As he shakily stood up, he watched as other dorm members slowly back away from him in fear. This is what he always wanted, why does it feel wrong now?

Looking over Leona, he froze at the sight of Yuu’s body, they looked like they were stretched out, certain parts of them looked crushed or exploded. There was suction all over them, most of them taking off the skin underneath from how hard they gripped onto them. Azul trembled and he looked over at Jade, who’s expression was unreadable until he looked at him, a sad disappointment in his eyes, like he expected better.

Floyd on the other hand looked utterly distraught as he held onto Yuu’s hand, mumbling about the shrimpy staying strong under his breath. Ruggie was for once, concerned about someone else besides himself as he watches Yuu completely unsettled. 

Jack looks up at Azul before looking away as if offended to even keep eye contact with him. The others were too focused on Yuu to even notice except Ace, who had nothing but malice in his eyes. “Was anything ever enough for you?” He spat. “You had everything! But it was never enough, huh?!” “Ace not now,” Deuce nudged the red head. “Fine, but I will say that at least now people will never mess with you again! Just like you wanted, right?” Deuce nudges Ace again. As the CPR continues for an uncomfortable amount of time, Azul realizes the possibility that Yuu is probably gone for good. Azul teared up.

He always was that pathetic little crybaby.

Jamil Overblot

“Now GO!” Jamil screeched, throwing the group of mages that opposed onto the broken pillar of the dorm. He lifted the pillar up with a wave of his hand and set to aim it at the horizon, until he saw them. That damned prefect that started it all.

If it wasn't for them, he would have won, he would be free right now! His eyes darkened as he locked onto them, grinning wryly at the fearful expression on their face. He held out his hand to Yuu in a flicking motion, the floating pillar staying in place. “Yuu get out of the way!” Floyd rasped, voice on the verge of giving out from how much we was screeching.

Flick.

The pillar flew straight into Yuu’s abdomen, sending the entire squad flying way out in the distance. A sense of peace filled the young man's mind as he relaxed, allowing his brainwashed servants to care for him. The weight of what he just did not set in on him. In his mind he now won, and he remembers the weight of everything lifted off his shoulders as his reign continued.

The very next thing he remembered is his pounding head, and a muffled voice resonated in his head, his ears were ringing and everything around him was so bright. “…mil… Jamil…. Jamil!” The viper’s eyes shoot open and he takes a deep breath of air. “Jamil!” Kalim cries, crushing Jamil into a hug and sobbing.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry… I didn’t know how you’ve been feeling this whole time! If I knew, this would have never happened. We could have been best friends! You wouldn’t have blotted! And… Yuu…” The mere mention of their name, makes Jamil push himself up harshly, the blurry memory of what happened moments before weighing in. Fuck, fuck, fuck that pillar! That’s at least a broken rib, and at worst…

“Floyd, stop crowding them, they need space right now!” Azul scolds in the background, Jamil’s gaze follows the voice and he forgets to breathe. “Prop them on their side, both their back and ribs are too injured. Focus your magic on this point," "Yes, Jade!” A few of the students say. Jamil stares at the body in front of him, borderline unrecognizable. Their front looked as though it was caved in, and as they are turned to their side he saw that most of the muscle and skin looked as though it was shredded off of them, whatever skin they had left was covered in friction burns. Clothes they once wore, now scraps.

Jamil doesn’t feel relief in the slightest when he hears them let out a weak, strangled cry of pain. The fact they’re alive at all is a miracle, but death would have been a much better mercy. When they recover, would they even be able to be the same? The wary glances from the other dorm members in the room tell him they’re all thinking the same thing.

“Hey! Let us in, let us in!” A few voices ring out in the distance, and Grim perks up. “Deuce! Ace!” The cat cries out, refusing to move from Yuu’s side. The pair burst into the common room, out of breath. “Grim, we got your guy’s message! Are you okay where’s—“ Deuce freezes, trembling when he sees what the cat stood in front of. “N-no way… please don't tell me that's…” 

Ace turns his hands into fists. “Who did this?! Which one of you did this to them?! I fucking kill you!” Jamil spaces out, only able to stare at the back of his most unfortunate victim. The voices in the background of the trios arguing in the background faded as he allows Kalim to shake and hug him.

He was never going to get his freedom.

Vil Overblot

“..il…Vil!” Vil groggily opened his eyes to the sound of Rook's voice, sitting himself up as he looked around. “You’re alright…” Another voice said, but it was strained and weak. “We thought you were dead.” The leader tried to look at the source of the voice, just for his vision to blur. He blinked a few times and pinched the bridge of his nose before opening his eyes again tiredly, just for his tired expression to change to horror.

“Yuu?!” Vil boomed before letting out a cough. The magicless student in front of him looked horrible, acid burns across their arms and part of their face that burned off the first few layers of skin along with pitch black, discolored veins that surged with poison even after his blot. They had a pained expression as they panted, shaking as they stood and gripped one of their arms.

Some of their skin looked like it was already peeling. Epel had the student lean on him as Jamil casted some restoration magic on them, just for it to fizzle out or be ineffective. A frustrated and baffled expression grew on the scarabian's face. Ignoring his own dizziness, Vil stood up with the help of Rook. He approached Yuu who was on the verge of passing out.

Charging up his own curing magic in his hand forming a ball, he held it close to Yuu before unleashing it. Everyone around him looked relieved and Kalim was practically beaming. A bright flash of light blinded the group before fading and everyone looked at Yuu expectantly, waiting for their blackened veins to fade. A few seconds passed, then a minute. Nothing was happening.

“Are they okay now?” Kalim asked dumbly. “Do they look okay?” Ace rebuttals. No, something was wrong. It was his spell, his poison, why wasn’t it working? Searching through his mind through all of his knowledge of poisons, he casts another spell to try and counteract it instead. Nothing happens. Panic started setting in. His expression grew more and more concerned, making the students around him worry. 

“Good grief what happened here…” Another voice echos among the ruins of the stage. “M-Malle-“ Deuce stuttered out, unable to finish the name. “Oh, hey Tsunotaro! You… came at a bad time…” “Tsunotaro?!” Jamil, Rook, Vil, and the freshmen erupt. “Dude are you trying to get finished off?!” Ace whisper-yells.

At the sight of his injured friend, Malleus’ expression becomes shocked, then grows dark. “Child of Man, what happened?” The group all went silent, even Vil didn’t speak. He wanted to claim responsibility then and there, but he knew that right now, Malleus would only listen to Yuu. Yuu tries to speak, starting a sentence just to stop.

“I… I don't know… I don't know what I was thinking…” “Come with me, you require serious medical help.” Malleus offers his hand for Yuu to take and put their weight on. “But the stage…” “You’re concerned about the stage in your state?” “… Crowley is probably going to blame me for it…”

Malleus pauses, and raises his hand, the rubble of the stage lifting back up to reassemble itself. As the others stare in awe, Malleus leaves with Yuu in his arms.

***

Vil was about to open the door to the nurses office until he heard two voices talking. It was Malleus and some of the medical staff he assumed.

“Mr… sir… uhh. Prince Malleus, about your friend…”

“Yes? What about them?”

“Do you happen to know their blood type? We have tested their blood and it’s not like anything we have seen before, hell the dna samples we took they’re… otherworldly…”

“I see… If that's the case…” Malleus sighs. “I don’t know anything relating to their health.”

“We are trying every treatment we can for magic or poisons but none are effective, sir, they are completely… ineffective.”

“I see…”

“Um… Prince Malleus, I do not mean to be rude but um, could your magic be used to heal them..?”

Vil’s breath hitched.

“I cannot. I originally planned to use a curing spell and then take them into Diasomnia for recovery, but my magic didn't work either.”

“How…? Are they cursed or something?!

“Perhaps it is because of their origin—”

Vil felt sick. He was killing them slowly.

Grim’s Freakout

You hoped to examine that strange blot gem that Vil dropped, and made sure to take extra precautions hiding it from Grim. As dumb as it sounded, you felt as though these were important somehow, that maybe they can help you find your way home. You placed it down on the nightstand after examining before heading off to use the bathroom. In retrospect, you probably should have put it up or hid it, as when you came out of the bathroom you immediately heard the familiar sound of your companion crunching down on something. 

“Agh! Grim, no! Don’t!” Yuu rushed into the room but was too late, not even a shard of the gem was left. “Grim! I told you to stop eating those!” Grims mind was hazy as his body started processing the effects of the gem, Yuu's voice faded in and out. “I hid from you cause I KNEW… And now what?! That was my only lead… I’ve been here for a YEAR fixing everyone’s problems…. And I just want to— Grim? Grim, are you okay?”

Grim looked up at the human that was reprimanding them. For a moment, he recognizes them, their stressed and tear-stained face made him feel bad for a moment, until his vision blurred. He grabbed his head in pain and felt himself being worriedly picked up and examined. “Grim! Hey! Grim!”

When his vision returned, the world was darker, the face that was a friend now foe as it was blacked out and blurry. “Grim are you—AAGHHH! NO STOP PLEASE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING THIS?! YOU’RE MY FRIEND!”

***

Deuce and Ace ran into the Ramshackle dorm at the emergency text they received.

> Theres aN emercy at ramshckle! SOmething happened to Grim please hirty

Yuu would never mess around like this for a prank. Something bad must have happened, they run through the halls and practically body slam into the mirror leading to Ramshackle. From there they run through into the dorm. “YUU! Hey Yuu! YuuuuUUUUU!”

Ace yelled out before panting. “I swear if its nothing…” “Come on let's go check their room.” Deuce offers, taking the lead up the stairs and wiping the sweat off his brow. “Yuu!” He calls, “We got your text…” Ace grumbled and followed Deuce, lagging slightly. Deuce reaches the top, freezing when he hears a soft sob. “Did you hear that?” “Hear what?”

Deuce sighs, a serious expression emerging as he quickens his pace to the door. “Yuu? Are you in there?” Deuce knocked on the door just for it to open as he did so. Ace looked at his friend as he made his way over. He watched as Deuce's expression become terrified before turning into utter devastation. His wide eyes glaze with tears and he covers his mouth with his hands, gagging slightly.

“Geez man what did you s—“ Ace stood next to Deuce and was immediately hit with the scent of blood and something burning, he glanced at the floor which had a blood trail coming out of the room. Following the trail slowly, he stared into the room and froze. He felt as though he was going to puke.

Blood and soot covered everything. The curtains and furniture along with the walls have scorch marks and dried blood on them. The sheets and mattress of the bed were torn up and soaked with blood, blankets still smoking from the recent flames that were put out. The mirror on the wall was pitch black. Worst of all was Yuu.

They were curled into a ball in the center of the bed, trying their best to cover their face, or what remained of it. There were claw marks exposing bones of the prefect's skull, which was completely drenched in their own blood. Some of the wounds cauterized from the flames that were blown on them. Fingers melted together. Patches of skin looked as though they were still burning, yet worst of all were their eyes.

The eyelids on one of their eyes were torn off, exposing their eyeball that stared off in the distance, and the other appeared to be soldered shut. Ace shook. “Holy shit… Holy shit!” Ace gags, and the sound elicits another sob from Yuu. “Holy shit! You're… You're alive!”

Deuce moves first, running over and cradling Yuu’s face looking for a pulse. Ace follows and reaches out before retracting a hand, not knowing what to do. “I’m… I… Cmon, let's take them to the nurse!” “On it.” Ace helps Deuce lift the prefect, pulling out his phone and messaging his Dormleader with the news, begging him to contact Crowley.

They couldn’t die like this.

Idia Overblot

Idia awoke to the sound of sirens blaring. In his tired state, he didn’t recognize what it was at first, the sirens screeching faint before getting louder. Idia jerked awake from where he was and was greeted by a sobbing Ortho who practically squeezed him. “Ortho? I… Eh… What’s going on?” The announcer on the speakers kept repeating the word “Overblot In Progress'' like a mantra, before Ortho gave the command to shut off the sound, red lights still flash and all screens on the walls keep the warning up. That was strange, he was no longer blotted, and any phantom that unfroze should have been frozen again.

Idia gets up from the bench he was laid on and looks around, recognizing that he’s in one of the many lab rooms of Styx. Many scientists hovering around the holograms projected on the table or at the computers mashing their keyboards. The previous blots, along with Rook and Epel were also hovering around the tables with wide-eyed expressions. “Ortho what's happening?”

“Shroud!” One of the scientists yells. “There is an emergency, we need your guidance!” “Wh…” Idia’s head felt like it was splitting in half. Looking around he cant help but feel someone is missing, but he didn’t have time to think about it. “Ortho, report!”

“There’s an abnormal Overblot occurring down in the phantom chambers! We have never seen anything like it before!” “Abnormal? What do you mean by that?” Epel interrupts, spitting words with a venom and letting his accent out. “It means ma best pardner who happens t' be magicless is currently filled with blot!” “That’s not possible! What do y…”

Idia pushed through the other members around the table seeing what was unfolding. A menacing figure stood in the middle of phantoms, all of which pushing and stampeding across each other to reach them. The figure looked like a huge humanoid made of ink, limbs abnormally long and outstretched reminding Idia of some beast from a soulsborne game. Its face was blank aside from two glowing eyes that keep getting brighter and brighter, within them, you can see a figure trapped within the beast.

Idia immediately started typing on one of the keyboards, attempting to input the freeze command just for it to fail over and over. He sweated as he tried to input a few others, just for the same error to pop up. “C’mon c’mon c’mon…” Idia opened the code to try and troubleshoot, if any of the phantoms reach where Yuu is—

“HENCHMAN!” Grim screamed, making Idia nearly crack his neck from how fast he looked up. The phantoms reached the blot creature, immediately being absorbed into the creature, getting bigger and bigger, inky geysers swirled around the figure, then it shook. “Readings say blot implosion is happening sir—-AUGH!”

The entire facility shook. Within an instant, the impossible amount of blot condensed and swirled into the student within the figure. A deep darkness flashed like a light, and suddenly, Yuu was suspended in the air, before they suddenly dropped. For a moment, all the alerts cleared, and zooming in on Yuu showed they were breathing. 

“Ortho can you get a scan?” “Scanning… All vitals are sta…ble…?” “That doesn't sound good…” Leona groaned. The alarms went off again, this time louder and more frequent. “Ortho, turn it down!” “On it!”  A new warning appeared everywhere. “God-Level Phantom detected.” "God level?" Jamil gawked.

“How could this happen?” A few scientists moan. 

“No person would ever do this!”

“Idia, sir! Their DNA! It matches nothing from this world!”

“sir, there has appeared to have been a significant amount of blot in them before!”

Idia paled and a realization hit him. They are not from this world, and so they would have a different reaction to being in contact with blot… They have also been the one common denominator in every blot at NRC, they were in contact with each one, no one has ever been around that many overblots in such a short period of time … That blot. It must have accumulated in them, and they never had enough time to fully heal before their contact with the next one. It must have been clawing its way into them since the very beginning.

Still, a god leveled phantom… Nothing like this has happened since the war of Gods millennia ago! There was no tech that could even handle that… Idia looked at the cameras again. Yuu trembled, before standing—no, floating— to their feet. They looked normal aside with their roughed up clothes, but something felt off. The way they stood, they way their head hung down. It wasn’t Yuu. Black smoke seemed to emanate off them, causing the NRC bunch to start yammering.

They suddenly lifted their head, making direct eye contact with the camera, eyes glowing. Ferrymen rushed into the chamber, all surrounding Yuu before firing their weapons, but nothing hit. The once magicless student just simply raised their hand, lifting everyone in a tidal wave of blot before washing them out. They then grabbed one of the men, tearing off their mic and speaking into it.

“Release us.” Idia paled. “What the hell…” Epel whispered. “Release us… Shroud…” Idia gestured for the intercom. “You know I can’t do that Yuu.” Yuu stayed eerily calm, but this time when they spoke, Idia felt sick. “Please brother… It's been years. I want to be free!” Idia and Ortho shared looks of horror as they went through the stages of grief all at once.

“It's dark down here. I’m scared.” Idia hands shivered. “I’m sorry Ortho, you know what has to happen. Please just… Don’t fight it…” Idia, this time, put in another command, finger hovering over the button. “Ortho, prepare for evacuation.” He pressed the button. The entire chamber started flooding with temperatures reaching lower than ever allowed in the facility, and in a larger amount than ever done before.

Ferrymen and scientists all started escaping and running out of the facilities, the NRC students chauffeured on the hovering vehicles Idia commanded as everyone made it for a safe point on the surface of the ocean. “I can't believe it…” Rook mumbles. “Just like that…” Riddle says in a daze.

The students were all quiet for the first time in the entire trip there. Idia could only stare at the ocean as he sobbed.

“I'm sorry Ortho… I'm sorry Yuu…”

Malleus Overblot

“Can I… Help you with something…?”

The storms over NRC have yet to fade, and each day the weather only seems to get worse. It has been two weeks since that fateful day. Two weeks when he was defeated and everyone was free for the price of them. Two weeks when one of the best humans he has ever known was taken from him.

“They aren’t dead yet, Malleus.” Lilia replied, standing in the doorframe of his room as Malleus continued to stare melancholically out the window. He closed his eyes. “I know.” “So why are you already mourning? There's still hope.” Malleus doesn't respond. “It is unfair to everyone to ruin the weather, you know?” Usually the fae wouldn’t try to push Malleus when he’s already upset, but many of the streets have started flooding on Sage Island.

Silence hung in the air until Malleus broke it. “It’s impossible. They will never wake up.” “They could. It will just take—" "True loves kiss.” Malleus finishes. “But that is impossible for them, and you know it too.” Malleus turned around to look at Lilia, it was one of the rare times you could see the ancient fae mourn as well. “But there is a chance.”

Malleus shook. “The only one that had a chance was Grim for a familial love… but the spell does not for allow monsters.” Silence hung in the air again and before Lilia could open his mouth to speak again, Malleus did. “Please Lilia, leave me be.” Lilia deflated and turned to leave. 

His fingers dig into the windowsill. “Enough!” He booms. “There is no way for them to ever get a true love's kiss in this world. Some stranger cannot develop true love for the idea of them. Every student here has not been true enough to their feelings for them in a proper way for any sort of love to develop, and there is no way it could ever be me, not after what I have done!” 

***

Malleus stood in your room, or rather, your room in Ramshackle. Around and on your bed were offerings of all sorts. Snacks, flora, cards, plushies along with an assortment of other items surrounded you from students across both NRC and RSA. It was probably the only time that foreign students were allowed on campus without issues. 

He stood over you. You are just as peaceful as ever, and the sight of your unconscious body only continues to remind him of what he did. How after you defeated him, and awoken everyone, you seemed tired. And during the brief period of celebration, the fanfare, as everyone woke up and started to appreciate you, you collapsed. 

He worried that it was from a more severe injury he couldn't see. You were a bit roughed up. Some minor burns on your arms and bruises painting your body. There were a few nasty cuts you bled from, but surely they weren't enough to cause blood loss? Students saved you from your fall, checking for injuries and using magic.

A tear fell onto you as he hovered over you, black hair forming a curtain, he didn't even realize he was crying. “Oh dear, I’m sorry about…” The fae couldn't get the words out. He gently wiped the tear off of your face as he admired it closer. You were beautiful. His breath hitched, as he adjusted your face to fit his, then pressed his lips to yours, hoping that by some miracle, it was true love. 

The fae finds it both amusing and frustrating that nearly everyone in this school seemed to have only noticed how much they appreciate and care for you, after you are no longer with them. It's not fair… It's not fair to you at all. You've done so much.

He already knew the answer though. He was one of the students that didn’t allow for his feelings to develop enough for true love. Your still-sleeping face proved that. If only we were more open, if he approached you first…

You’re gone.

[washedupfae]

WeirdCore Au List

This will be updated as I continue to work on the AU.

Character Concept Posts:

From the Parlor Posts, a little glimpse into WC and just a hint of how it came to be.

A small snippet of information on him and the rest of the WeirdCoreTale crew.

There is still a great deal of missing information, what event set everything in motion, but we do know that WCTale ended after far too many runs, on the Surface. However, something changed in the original code, and the monsters there, were brought back to the Great War.

Unable to fathom the idea of not only all of his friends dying yet again, but this time, the last remaining chance for monster kind, Sans joined up alongside the royal guard and other like-minded monsters, and joined the ancient monsters lost to the annuals of history, in the fight.

He has fought a mage before, after all, wasn't Frisk one? Ruling their domain over time itself? Though, Frisk was a child, an untrained child.

The battle was gruesome, and as he fought, he witnessed so many fall, dusting, an event marked in time, unchanging it seemed, they would be forced Underground again.

And.. He couldn't. He could not see his brother's HoPe dashed, his friends' dying cries, the pain of magic searing his bones.

He snapped.

The mage he faced, a purple soul, vile beast of a human, and they called his kind monsters. Monsters had never sought out to destroy an entire species, but humans would, humans had, were these descendants of these very monsters, fighting for their lives, their freedom, not the only race of monsters to have faced humans? Where were the fae? The elven, the banshee, those beasts that took human form then turned with rise of the moon? Where went the bloodthirsty beasts of horror?

In hiding, perhaps. Or victims of a ruthless genocide. By any matter, humans had been the cause of so much suffering. It was here, now, so many years brought back before his Judge's eye, that he determined and weighed the soul of this mage.. and devoured her soul.

Bitter, ash in his mouth, copper on his tongue, and magic that should not mix with his own. The first eye opened.

Disoriented, he was nearly taken off his feet as his brother defended him, construct in hand, shouting jeers at the opponent and unfortunately, glancing back to check on the horrific scene of his own dear brother, Sans.

You could say, Papyrus lost his head.

Rage, and persistence burned within his tainted soul, his next foe, a Determination mage, soon followed his fellow to the earth. Acting without thought, Sans cast back a curtain of time, but he didn't know how to wield the magic, it was unnatural, warped, disgusting in how it oozed in against his own soul's true nature.

The second eye opened.

Time, he turned back time, again and again. Watching his brother fall to another mage, watching Toriel be torn apart, Undyne crushed beneath a horde of human Soldiers. This was not a fight they could win. This was never a fight they were supposed to win.

This. Was a massacre.

Pushed back. Underground, sealed away, the magic, however, was weaker now. Two mages short, but the code was written, and so it must be followed.

Monsters would be forced beneath ground, but now, there was a .. hiccup.. a glitch perhaps? A little bug in the code.

There was Sans, or how shall we call him now? Cryptic seemed good.. Ostracized by those around him, his family, his friends fallen to the hands of humans yet once more. He was the beast in the depths of the mountain, but this time, they would not await human souls to fall into their hands.

But we can talk about that story, at another time. You need only know this. They all returned to their proper place in time, but the Code remembered. And the Code, began to fail.

[acertainmoshke]

Writing Share Tag

Thanks for the tag @fractured-shield (here)!!

I was rather proud of this bit from CitS chapter 2, since I think it shows off various aspects of Ko'a's personality (remember they're still 9 here):

Ko'a could see the shining cover even from the doorway, standing out against dull gray stones and faded carpets. They were across the room, picking it up, almost before they'd made the decision to. The dust flew off in a cloud when they ran a hand over the cover. Up close they would see that the shining red silk was embroidered with a flock of golden birds. When they opened it, they were surprised to see the soft edges of writing ink rather than the crisper ones left by printing. It must be an old book, Ko'a thought, from before printers. But no. The writing wasn't neat, loopy, and careful. It was sloping and cramped. True handwriting. They realized it must be a journal even as they held it up to the light to read. The first entry was dated 320. The year the war began. The handwriting wasn't easy to read, and Ko'a struggled in places, but they understood enough: it was about an ordinary life. A youth a few years older than them, their new betrothal, their stonemason apprenticeship, their visits with friends. They only mentioned the war once in the first month, and they seemed certain it would be only a quick border skirmish. The youth didn't write their own name in the book, but Ko'a could feel them standing like a ghost next to them. They would be 100 now, surely dead anyway. But Ko'a was reminded of the ghost stories Sunka's friends shared about this part of town. Had they died at only 15, fleeing Engian mages? Had they escaped and moved across town, only to become a soldier at 20 and died in battle like Ko'a's grandparents? They felt suddenly cold and shivery. "Boo!" Without warning, something was in the room and flying at them, sending Ko'a shrieking out the door. The book hit the floor behind them. And then Aru'a was stumbling out behind them, laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. "You really thought I was a ghost!" "Don't DO that!" Anger roared in Ko'a's ears and they scrambled up off the street to shove Aru'a to the ground instead. "We're supposed to be playing hide and seek!" Aru'a rubbed his bruised elbow but didn't stop laughing. "Yeah, well, you were taking forever. And you were right there." "You're a horrible friend!" Ko'a's eyes burned, but they were too big to cry in front of other children, so they turned down the street to storm off. Aru'a, of course, easily caught up to them. Ko'a-" "GO AWAY!" they screamed in his face. He didn't try to follow them again. Ko'a expected to cry as soon as they were safely behind the next house, but once they were alone in the quiet again their rage drained away and they decided they may as well go back to playing.

I'll tag @amielbjacobs @leytaylorjohnson @annothersummerofsleep and, of course, anyone else who wants to play!

[thehighlandhealer]

Release || Torstwyn, Bretan, Vincent, Lucien, & Peabody || June, 2022

Bo: Bo looked up from his laptop, glaring behind half-moon glasses. Stocks in neon green rose and fell over a black background on his screen, but his only focus was the ghoul in front of him.

"Where have you been?"

Brett: Brett’s face was set in thoughtful lines as he absently walked through the door. There hadn’t really been a whole lot of time between here and Bronwyn’s house to digest the conversation he’d had, otherwise he probably would’ve been better prepared for facing Bo.

Then again…all things considered, maybe it wasn’t the worst thing. With any luck.

Brett sighed and sank into the nearest chair.

“New Orleans.”

Bo: The mage blinked once, twice, and shut his laptop after a few clicks. Monitoring his finances had been a passive activity waiting for this very moment, and this very moment was as unsettling as he felt.

"Hva i helvete? How? Why?"

Brett: All questions would be answered succinctly and in order. That much he had decided.

“Bronwyn MacAllister’s familiar Vincent teleported me there and back. She wanted to talk to me and wanted to do it face to face.”

Bo: A name, two names, which had Bo on his feet. Yes, those names had saved his life, but those names sent a chill down his spine.

"Why did -" He swallowed. "Why?"

Brett: “She’s pregnant. For the third time it seems. And she wanted to talk to me because she wants to talk to you.”

Bo: If the fact that this was her third had significance had gone over Bo's head. Far from his concern. Evident from the irritation in his eyes. His brilliant quartz greens shadowed by the dim light of the dining room.

"What does she want?"

Brett: Brett sighed again. He didn’t want to approach this with a defeatist attitude but he knew—and had warned Bronwyn—that they had to be realistic about their expectations.

“She wants to talk to you about the collar on Torsten’s neck. She asked me to see her so I could ask you if you would be willing to listen to what she has to say.”

Bo: Shoulders sharply raised, falling as his hands fanned out and slapped back to his thighs.

"And what does she have to say that's so important she had to steal you?"

Brett: “She didn’t steal me, baby. She asked and I agreed to go. As far as what she has to say?”

Brett shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me.”

Bo: "How long did you know you were going to New Orleans?"

Brett: “Since I asked for permission to leave the city one hour after sunset.”

Bo: "How long have you kept this from me?"

Brett: “Since lunch today.”

Bo: "You didn't think to tell me? Text me?"

Brett: “I didn’t know what she wanted to discuss or if I’d even be able to see her so I didn’t tell you beforehand. I’m sorry if I made you worry.”

Bo: Bo's fingers softly twitched, before turning away towards the kitchen. Occupying his hands with a glass of whatever wine they had left from celebrating their new home.

His eyes found Brett again as he took a wincing gulp.

Brett: Brett knew murder in a man’s eyes when he saw it. Only question was whether it was directed at him, Vincent, Bronwyn, Torsten, or all of the above. Smart money said all of the above in some combination or another.

At least the wine glass hadn’t made contact with a solid surface. Yet.

“Hva tenker du på?” he asked in an even, calm voice.

Bo: "Det er bare dritt," Bo managed through his teeth.

"She should have come directly to me. Something could have happened to you and I wouldn't know because you didn't tell anyone."

As much as he wanted to scream, he didn't, but the empty glass in his hand did crack. Slammed onto the counter in his irritation. The damage he could fix, but the rage affected his husband no matter how he tempered it.

"Give me her number."

Brett: Aaaaaand there it was. Yep, definitely saw that one coming.

Brett could have said that Bronwyn hadn’t wanted to approach Bo directly because she was afraid he’d refuse to talk to her—she’d admitted as much—but that wouldn’t be productive. Bo was already upset and Brett had a feeling even the hint of a word in her defense would only add fuel to the fire.

Brett took out his phone and sent her information to Bo.

“Are you going to talk to her?”

Bo: Bo took the time while Brett fished for her number to lower himself to eye level of the glass. Despite gritted teeth, whispered an incantation under his breath, taking hold of the stemless cup only to slam it back on the counter once more, sealed to perfection. Not quite as neat and quiet without his wand.

"What do you think I'm going to do?"

Brett: That wine glass wasn’t long for this world. Brett would lay bets it would be broken a couple more times before the night was out.

“Honestly? I think you’re going to call her to yell at her and tell her you’re not interested in whatever she has to say.”

Bo: "Is that all I am? All I do? Just scream when I don't get my way?"

Brett: “No,” Brett said softly. “It isn’t. But I saw how you reacted to just her name. I know what she represents to you, as does she. I also know that despite whatever I say, there’s a not zero chance that it won’t matter and you won’t talk to her.”

Bo: Bo was reminded of the last time her name had been between them. The air had been acrid then. Tears and screaming that day. It had been long and exhausting and excruciating.

A slow breath was taken through his nose.

"Don't... go off like that again. Don't... scare me."

Brett: “I’m sorry. For going off and scaring you and not telling you what was going on. I’m really sorry, sweetheart.”

Bo: One hand remained clenched against his will. He was trying. That's all he could do.

"I know... you'll have to. Someday. Being... with him. I can't stop everything, but this is important."

Brett: Brett could see as much, and he was proud.

“You’re right. It is. And I should’ve told you what was going on after Vincent came to see me.” That he hadn’t could be chalked up to two things: curiosity and a fear similar to the one Bronwyn had shared with him.

Bo: He wanted nothing more than to be angry. To throw his cup across the room and perhaps the bottle along with it. Anger on par with an orgasm, burning his skin from the inside out. But he had magic now. Healthier outlets because he knew how much his anger could frighten the man across the room, and that look of fear he hadn't seen in so long had crept into Brett's eyes, however briefly, and he hated himself for it.

But no matter how he felt, his chest was still hot, and his skin tingled. Adrenaline he couldn't simply wish away.

"I'm going for a walk. Have... dinner delivered. Whatever you want."

Brett: After all these years, Brett no longer had to grapple with the urge to press his company on Bo when he had an outburst. He knew his husband needed to feel what he was feeling, to let it burn itself out. All Brett could do was give Bo the space for that to happen and offer his support afterward.

One thing that hadn’t changed, however, was the way his voice would naturally slip into that gentle, calm tone at the first sign of an outburst.

He nodded. “Okay. Take all the time you need. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Bo: Bo didn't reach for keys or wallet, but his wand and his phone. Slipped into his jacket in the foyer as always, despite the weather, and shut the door behind himself.

Bronwyn's number was punched into his phone, stared at it for a time, standing motionless on the front porch and its newly painted pillars.

No. Not here. A block away would do, where Brett would be unable to hear. So he walked, and by the time he reached the stop sign his phone was to his ear.

Brett/Bronwyn: Brett watched his hand go, holding in his sigh until the door had shut behind him. That hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped, although it hadn't gone as badly as he'd anticipated. It was in moments like these that the progress Bo had made was most obvious. That was something to be proud of.

All of Bo's favorites would be ordered for dinner, but not before Brett gave the kitchen a little clean to occupy his hands.

Across the country, Bronwyn paused the TV and picked up her ringing phone, gasping softly when she saw the number on the display. She didn't recognize it but it had an Edenton area code.

Brett hadn't been home for very long. Could he already...?

Don't get your hopes up.

"Hello?"

Bo: There was so much Bo wanted to say. Scathing, terrible things so she might feel the same consternation he had felt in the silence and absence of his husband. The same rug swept from under him, feeling vulnerable and useless.

But her voice was familiar. Soft. Anticipating. The same woman that had saved his life was the same woman in love with his beast.

That's what this was about.

"The next time you feel the urge to speak with me, don't involve Brett Parker."

Bronwyn: It was him. Even so, she knew that the fact that Bo was calling was no guarantee of anything except maybe an impending argument.

“I was afraid you would refuse if I didn’t. Would you have agreed if I hadn’t asked him?”

Bo: "I should refuse anyway." But what he wanted wouldn't be achieved by salting this ground.

"Have your bird transport me now or you'll never hear from me again."

Bronwyn: “Oh.” She sounded surprised, like she hadn’t been expecting his answer. “You don’t want the plane ticket then?”

Bo: "What are you waiting for? More calculations?"

Bronwyn: “I thought—never mind.” Bronwyn shook her head. Gift horse, mouth. “I’ll send Vincent right over. Where should he collect you?”

Bo: "Where did he collect Brett?"

Bronwyn: “At the police station.”

Bo: "I'll be there in ten minutes."

Bronwyn: “All right. See you in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes. That was precious little time to prepare. She’d expected to have a week at the bare minimum but apparently she’d underestimated how Bo would react to her talking to Brett.

She set her phone aside and eased to her feet. “Vincent!”

Bo/Vincent: Not Bo returning to the house only to walk inside, grab the keys to his Beetle, and walk back out without an explanation. Perhaps later he would say they were even, but much like Brett, his focus was on the next step.

Vincent poked his head through the entryway not a moment after his name.

"Ma'am?"

Brett/Bronwyn: Brett had barely opened his mouth to speak before Bo disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared. So much for dinner.

"I deserved that," he said to himself, nodding in resignation. Since it seemed he'd have some time, might as well cook something instead of ordering, so Bo could have a hot meal when he returned.

Bronwyn went into her closet to select something to wear that wasn't the nightgown she currently had on.

"How's yer energy holdin' up? Do you think you can make a couple more roundtrips to Edenton?"

Vincent: Considering Vincent rarely flew far from the neat that was Bronwyn's home, not even to his own in Maine, there was plenty energy and to spare.

"Whom I getting now?"

Bronwyn: "Bo. He just called. In ten minutes can you pop over and get him?"

Vincent: The familiar blinked and straightened. Surprise surprise.

"Same place?"

Bronwyn: They were two of a kind on that score. Surprise after surprise after surprise.

She nodded. "Aye, he'll meet you at the station. Do you know if Torsten's doin' anythin' right now?"

Vincent: "He's building toys out back." By toys, he meant little wooden swords, sheaths and all.

Bronwyn: Hearing that made her entire chest clench in one breath and reminded her how important this all was in another. Whatever ended up happening this evening, and even if her efforts were already doomed, she had to at least try.

"Can you fetch him for me? I better call Lucien, too. We don't have a lot o' time."

Vincent: "Lucien?" But he was quick to turn around, conserving his energy and running downstairs to the backyard, rather than popping in and out.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn selected a dress from her closet and returned to her bed to straighten the covers. She didn’t want to appear quite as pitiful as she felt.

As she worked, she dialed her eldest son.

Torsten/Lucien: Vincent had given nothing, as usual, which had Torsten upstairs nearly as swiftly as his wolf form. Eyes like a forest stared at the druid expectantly.

Lucien picked up after three rings.

"Hey, Mama B. What's up?" asked her son, out of breath.

Bronwyn: Torsten would find her with her phone between her shoulder and her ear, trying to get her nightgown off.

“Hi, lovey. Are you busy? Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Torsten/Lucien: "Just workin' out. You okay?" His usual question since her pregnancy.

"What? What is it?" Torsten whispered.

Bronwyn: “I’m fine, I promise.” Meant for both Lucien and Torsten. “Do you think you can be done and over here in the next ten minutes?

Torsten/Lucien: "Like, no?" Call it his blond moment. "With Vincent, yeah. What's wrong?"

Torsten crossed his arms and waited for an explanation.

Bronwyn: “Wh—right, Baton Rouge.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Maybe she wasn’t totally fine and was in fact more frazzled than she thought she was.

“Nothin’s wrong, I just have somethin’ to do and hopin’ you could keep Torsten company while I did it.”

She met her revenant’s eyes. “Someone’s comin’ to see me today.”

Torsten/Lucien: "Someone... So, I gotta distract him or let him play dad?"

The man of subject was rubbing his eyes with two fingers, taking a deep, slow breath.

Bronwyn: “The former. I’ll ask Vincent if he thinks he can go and grab you but if he can’t and you can’t it’s okay.”

Half-undressed, she held her hand out for Torsten’s.

Torsten: "You can hang up the phone on your son and tell me what's going on. I don't need distraction, I need answers."

Bronwyn: “I’ll text you in a bit, darlin’.”

Bronwyn hung up and took a deep breath, resting her hands on Torsten’s crossed arms.

“In ten minutes Bo is comin’ to see me. I want to talk to him in private.”

Torsten: The revenant took another slow breath. Reluctant arms wrapped carefully around her waist.

"He's in North Carolina. He can't do anything to me there, Thistle."

Bronwyn: “I know. But I need to talk to him, and by some miracle he’s agreed to talk to me. There are things I need to say to him, Torsten, things I can only say if we’re alone.”

Torsten: "Not alone." Knowing the man he had once been was not the same as knowing what he had become. That apprehension was as obvious as his irritation.

"Keep Vincent within earshot." Which, he realized, he couldn't be. "Vincent, or I'm not leaving."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nodded. Vincent would have to be around anyway since he’d be taking Bo home after they spoke, but she’d only ask him to remain nearby and willfully deaf.

“All right. Vincent’s going to Edenton to get him and he’ll be the one to take him home so he’ll be here. Do you promise me that you’ll go to a bar or somethin’ and stay until Bo’s gone?”

Torsten: "You're asking about my collar. At some point you'll send for me or you won't."

Torsten stared at the floor between them. His eyes were small and thoughtful, searching for something profound to say.

"He tried to save my sister. For his own academic clout, but he tried. He listened to her stories. Told her about his mother. Let her into his life. Underneath all of that anger and hatred is a terrified child. Terrified things use their claws. Are you certain this is what you want?"

Bronwyn: She knew nothing of Bo’s life prior to meeting him years ago, but just from what little she’d seen since, he had all the reason in the world to be angry, hateful, and afraid. She didn’t hold it against him, how could she?

He was so painfully…painfully human.

“I’m certain that I have to try.” She whispered without meaning to. “Trying is all I can do.”

Torsten: "Put yourself first." His chest caved with a massive sigh. "Don't let him get into your head." By complying, he knew he gave himself away. He wanted the collar removed; this would be their only chance. Still, the concern in his eyes was evident. As were his lingering hands covering her hips.

"This should be me."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "It can't be you, love. It has to be me." It couldn't be a battle or an argument or a struggle for higher ground; it had to be a conversation, one that was entered into with sincerity but no expectations on either side. It would work or it wouldn't.

But she had to try.

"You better get goin'. I need to finish gettin' dressed."

Torsten: Torsten remained like a stone for a time. Her hands were small in his own, and he contemplated their life together, and what would change from this moment forward. Such small hands with such heavy intentions.

"Vincent," he emphasized, waiting patiently to lock eyes. "I'm trusting you to keep your word."

He would be the first to let go. To turn away in search of his boots and leave without another word. Before he could deny himself this window of freedom.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn sighed as she watched Torsten go. She could feel his concern even if he hadn’t voiced it, and she couldn’t deny that she felt some of her own.

But she had to take this risk. She had to try.

Once she finished putting on her dress, she combed her hair and tried to do a little something with her face. Just enough to look put together and not like a pitiful creature that couldn’t go outside.

She studied herself in the mirror. It would do.

Now to go downstairs and start some tea.

“Vincent, is there any o’ my grandmama’s shortbread left?”

Vincent: The familiar sat up from his hunched position over the breakfast nook. Eyes wide as though having been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but it was, in fact, several shortbreads stacked neatly in front of him.

"Ye....yes."

Bronwyn: The sight made her smile and it was a welcome relief. Leave it to Vincent to break any tension.

“Good. You can have two before you go get Bo. The rest are goin’ to be shared once he arrives, provided he doesn’t decide to throw them at me instead.”

Vincent: "He'll think they're poison," he shrugged. "I wander to wondering thoughts, if he was a bad man, before."

Bronwyn: “Judgin’ from what Torsten has told me, I don’t think so. Too ambitious for his own good maybe but no’ bad.”

Vincent: "Torsten said my name a lot. Want me on your shoulder?"

Bronwyn: “I really think I should talk to him alone but Torsten doesn’t want you far from me.”

Vincent: "I don't wanna be far from you."

Bronwyn: “You don’t have to be. Maybe just upstairs or in another room?”

Vincent: He considered for a moment. Realizing the innocuous perception she wished to display didn't sit well with him, but nodded just the same. She was his mistress.

"Another room."

Bronwyn: "Ye're worried about him too, aren't you? You think he might try to hurt me?"

Vincent: "He's just... unfriendly." A man he could marvel, perhaps admire, but from outside the searing area of effect. "He's got glass shards for body armor."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn sighed. “Do you think I’m bein’ naive?”

Vincent: "I'll be in the next room."

Bronwyn: “Would you feel better on my shoulder?”

Vincent: "Think he remembers me?"

Bronwyn: “I’d lay bets that he does, even if it’s only a little. Ye’re a hard one to forget, lovely.”

Vincent: The familiar nodded. "Next room, then."

Bronwyn: “Are you sure?”

Vincent: "Yes, ma'am. Are you not anymore?"

Bronwyn: “I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly confident about this whole thing but I can feel myself waverin’ and wobblin’ regardless.”

Vincent: "Is... Is that what happens to pregnant women?"

Bronwyn: She smiled. “Shaky confidence and emotional wobblin’? Can’t say whether it happens to others but it’s been happenin’ to me for months.”

Vincent: "I'll never let anything happen to you, mistress."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn took his face in her hands and stroked his cheeks with her thumbs, wondering if he knew just how much of a lifeline he’d been to her since the day he’d come into her life. Her sweet familiar.

She kissed his forehead. “I know, love. I know.”

Vincent: He had a notion, and not just because they sometimes shared minds, but because of her affection, such as this sweet moment before a storm.

"I'll go get him now?"

Bronwyn: "Aye, I think you'd better," she said with a nod. "Tread lightly, okay? He isn't likely to be as cooperative and polite as the sheriff." Plus, judging from their conversation a few minutes ago, he was already in a less-than-friendly mood.

Vincent/Bo: Not conspicuously hostile, but neither was he polite. Standing beside his car in a tucked away area of the police station parking lot. Bo waited with his eyes to the sky, and then towards the feeling of primal energy.

He said nothing when taking his place beside the familiar, hidden further by the weathered brick wall and out of sight of security cameras. No hellos or needless small talk. Only stiff arms and raised chin, refusing to look his porter in the eyes.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn left the tea to brew and took the seat Vincent had vacated in the breakfast nook to rest for a moment before Bo arrived. Between dressing and coming downstairs, she’d managed to wear herself out.

Such was her new normal.

But, as long as she had a bit, it couldn’t hurt to pray to who or whatever was listening for a little bit of help. Asking for her hopes to be realized was asking too much. Help was enough.

Vincent: Rather than appear in the house, Vincent returned them to the backyard, out of sight. An opportunity for his mistress to prepare herself with a knock on the back door.

Bronwyn: Even if she’d had an hour, Bronwyn doubted it would make a difference. Time wasn’t the deciding factor here. At least, not in the short term.

The woman who opened the door was more or less the woman Bo would remember. Her skin was paler, her face a bit thinner despite the curve of her growing belly, her eyes tired. But it was still Bronwyn MacAllister.

“Come in,” she said softly. “Can I offer you a cup of tea?”

Bo: Her greeting was as much expectation as the situation itself. This was a long time coming, but the bump in her middle had caught him off guard, and it was all he could stare at. Brett had said as much, but seeing her so far along...

The man in front of her was older, of course, but one could hardly tell if not for the updated wardrobe and stronger spine.

"Just... conversation."

Bronwyn: She nodded and gestured to the breakfast nook. "Please sit."

There were three teacups sitting on the table beside a pretty teapot, as well as a plate of shortbread and a sugar bowl. Bronwyn poured tea into two of the cups, leaving one at her seat and offering the other to Vincent along with two pieces of shortbread.

Only then did she take her seat, looking across at Bo with a gentle and inexplicably fond expression. "You look well. I'm glad."

Vincent/Bo: Vincent would keep to his word, taking his tea and shortbread and quietly disappearing into the neighboring room to eat in silence. An ear out, of course, and his mind open for private words.

There was a quiet, hidden part of Bo that was humored only two cups had been filled. She knew him well enough. What had it been, one encounter? No. His memory was hazy, but not that much. It had been days. Years ago, but she had left an impact, and a tingle in his spine.

He didn't know what to do with her compliments. Evident by his lack of eye contact, but he knew what he could do.

"You look sick."

Bronwyn: "Aye." She nodded as she stirred half a spoonful of sugar into her tea. "I'm sure I do. Pregnancies take a toll even in the best of circumstances. In mine, well...it goes without sayin'." But her babies seemed to be healthy, and they were alive. That's all that mattered.

Bo: "It's because of his species, isn't it? Half alive, half dead."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nodded. "It is, aye. They're only alive because there's magic keepin' them that way. Otherwise...they'd end up like the others."

Bo: "Clearly they can procreate, so what is the issue?"

Bronwyn: "My species," she said quietly. She'd told herself she would answer anything he asked her as honestly as she could, even if it hurt to do so. He deserved that much.

"If I was like him there wouldn't be an issue. But because I'm no', even though I can get pregnant, my body thinks the baby's already dead and rejects them."

Bo: Some of the venom in his expression seemed to dissolve. His gaze dropped to the table. In a gesture she might have been familiar with, Bo gently rubbed his hands together, only to slowly spread them apart.

"Leslie Issott's been here."

Bronwyn: It did seem familiar but Bronwyn couldn't place exactly why until Leslie's name was mentioned, then it hit her. She could swear she'd seen him do it before.

"Aye. He's the one who provided me the magic to keep my babies alive. Do you know him?"

Bo: There seemed to be conflict behind those lashes. Lips thinned and tight before deciding to breathe.

"He's... useful."

Bronwyn: "He's a good man. A verra good man. He deserves the world and I owe it to him."

Bo: "Not the world."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn sipped her tea again, falling silent for a moment as she looked at her reflection in the teacup.

"This is the third time he and I have been expectin' a child." His name wasn't said, but it didn't have to be. "Losin' the first one was a shock. Losin' the second was a nightmare. Both times, my babies didn't get the chance to be any bigger than the palm of my hand. This is the furthest I've ever been along.

"I can feel them. They have heartbeats. There was a time when I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to hear a heartbeat that wasn't my own comin' from inside me ever again. If I can this time, it's because of Leslie. He does deserve the world."

Bo: "That answers the question of which you'd choose, holding the hands of your child or Torsten, hanging over a cliff."

His empty teacup was pushed aside.

"So then why am I here?"

Bronwyn: She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she felt the gathering moisture in them. "Ye're here because...there's ev'ry chance that that question won't need to be answered.

"My babies are alive. For now. Leslie's magic was a blessin' but it was always meant as a temporary solution. Without his help, I wouldn't be pregnant and without help from someone else, I'll die long before I ever get to meet my babies. I do look sick, ye're right. My body wasn't built to be pregnant for the three years revenant pregnancies last. It's been put in no uncertain terms to me that if a solution isn't found to speed things along, childbirth will probably kill me."

Bo: Bo stared at her, wondering if this was even about the collar anymore. Seemed the conversation had been derailed by grief and unborn babies. Perhaps Brett had been mistaken, or she was very good at manipulating. She didn't seem the type, but he hardly knew her. It had all been a haze buried beneath his curse.

"Life is not my expertise. You didn't bring me here for this."

Bronwyn: It was about all of it. The collar, her grief, the children who had been lost and the children whose lives were hanging by a thread.

Bronwyn shook her head. Her battle was lost, and her tears fell. “No. And if I’m tellin’ you all this it isn’t because I want yer help. It’s because I want you and I need you to understand that I’m no’ askin’ what I’m about to ask lightly. I’m sure Sheriff Parker told you that I want to ask you if you could remove Torsten’s collar but I want you to understand why.”

Bronwyn wiped her face with her hands and found herself resisting the sudden urge to take Bo’s hands.

“It wasn’t just me that felt the pain of losin’ our children. They were his children, too. He wants to be a father so badly and he’s been given hope twice already and had it snatched away. There’s a chance it will be again and if I can’t give him a child, if what I am snatches his hope and his happiness again, then I at least want to try to do this for him. If all I can give him is the sight of the collar bein’ removed from his neck, then I want to try. I have to try. That’s why ye’re here, Bo.”

Bo: All it took was a single tear for him to avert his gaze. The nearest window would suffice. He would listen, but he appeared well determined not to look.

"Why do you talk like that? The self-pity. 'What I am snatches his hope. If I can't give him a child.' You speak like a problem. Did he do this to you? Made you feel this way?"

Bronwyn: He couldn’t even look at her and that spoke volumes. She already knew she was fighting a losing battle; that just sealed it.

Bronwyn took a napkin from the holder on the table and wiped her face, shaking her head.

“No. He’s never once made me feel like it’s my fault. He’s never reproached for me anythin’. He’s been lovin’ and supportive.”

Bo: "Then why do you speak that way?"

Bronwyn: “Wouldn’t you, if yer children kept dyin’ because yer body kept rejectin’ them and a hundred hoops needed to be jumped through for a chance that it wouldn’t happen again?”

Bo: "You're not the undead one."

Bronwyn: “But I’m the one who carried them. People can tell you somethin’ isn’t yer fault a hundred times but that doesn’t mean yer brain will believe them.”

Bo: Eyes closed a second longer than they should have. A bit of his bottom lip was pulled by his teeth.

"They'll hunger for... things. Liver and raw meat. They'll have tempers. Short fuses like their father. They won't age the same. Did he tell you that?"

Bronwyn: She nodded toward her refrigerator. “There’s been liver in this house since the day Torsten first stepped foot in it. I haven’t ever made him a steak that wasn’t rare enough to still be mooin’.”

As for the temper and the aging?

She took another sip of tea to calm herself down. “Ev’ry parent hopes their children will outlive them. If these babies live, they certainly will outlive me. Like their father. I’ve made peace with that. I’m just glad my soul found his again. Short fuse and all. A temper isn’t a reason no’ to love someone.”

Bo: Now Bo was looking at her. His brow slightly knitted. Just barely a wrinkle.

He wanted to be offended. Every petty bone in his body wanted to regenerate the venom he had lost, but there was too much to relate to.

"You think he's your soulmate?"

Bronwyn: “I do,” she said, suddenly aware of her engagement ring and comforted by its presence.

“Have you ever felt a pull toward someone that you couldn’t fight or explain?”

Bo: The window was much more interesting now.

"If you have something to say to me, you say it to me directly. Don't go behind my back like that again. Unless you swear to that, we're finished here."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nodded. “I swear it. You have my word that I won’t go behind yer back ever again.”

Bo: He could look at her again, if only to judge her expression. His ear hadn't tingled once in her presence. Her bird, yes, but not her.

"Call him."

Bronwyn: She was tired and sad and perhaps even desperate, but Bronwyn’s eyes were sincere. She was laying her heart bare to Bo.

Her phone was taken out of her pocket, his number dialed, but still she didn’t dare hope.

“Torsten?”

Torsten/Bo: The phone was answered before a single completed ring. Bo returned to staring out the window, contemplating his life and choosing to ignore the voice on the other end.

"Are you alright?"

Bronwyn: “Yes, I’m all right,” she assured him, holding in a sniffle. If he thought she was crying she just knew he would assume the worst.

“Can you come home?”

Torsten: His question came in slow and deliberate. "Just tell me, you're safe?"

Bronwyn: “I am, I promise. Come back.”

Torsten: "Do you want me to stay on the line?"

Bronwyn: Bronwyn shook her head. “No, you don’t have to. Just drive safely, okay? I’ll see you in a wee.”

Bo: "How long is a wee?" Bo asked once Torsten had hung up.

Bronwyn: She slipped her phone back into her pocket. “Probably just a few minutes.” She doubted Torsten would have gone too far, worried as he was about her seeing Bo.

Bo: Some sugar was slowly brushed off of the table with fingertips.

"Why him? Of all people, you chose a nearly feral half-vampire. Why?"

Bronwyn: “It goes back to what I mentioned earlier about soulmates.” She selected a shortbread from the plate and dunked it in her tea.

“Sometimes you feel a pull toward someone that you can’t fight or explain. I don’t think I consciously chose him but I was drawn to him.”

Bo: "He comes from Vikings. Real Vikings. Killers. Wolves." All from the pages of his journals, but he couldn't bring himself to elaborate. "You're a..." Fingernails tapped on the table. "...You're not like them. They're going to hurt you. When it happens, you shouldn't hesitate to destroy him."

Bronwyn: He’d said when, not if. In Bo’s eyes, her being hurt by Torsten or his family wasn’t merely a possibility, but a foregone conclusion. Was it fear or hatred or bitter experience that made him so certain?

“Nothin’ in this world is set in stone,” she said softly. “What we are doesn’t have to determine who we are and what we do. We make choices ev’ry day that matter more than what we happen to be.”

Bo: "A vampire cannot change their bane any more than they can change the stars in the sky. They're cursed. Do you understand?"

Bronwyn: Fear, hatred, and bitter experience; it wasn’t just one fueling this conversation, but all three.

Bronwyn nodded. She didn’t have a vast knowledge about vampires but curses? “I do, aye.”

Bo: "D'er lettast aa laera av annan manns skade."

No, he would not be translating. Only smoothing his clothes as he stood. Unable to sit still any longer, he pulled out his phone and pulled up Brett's last message to read. Something to do and consider.

Bronwyn/Brett: No translation meant Bronwyn would have to try to remember what he’d said and ask Torsten about it later. Her curiosity wouldn’t rest otherwise.

Brett’s last message wasn’t a message, but a photo of Olek in the kitchen that had been caught mid-yawn.

Torsten/Bo: {Text to Brett} I'll be home soon.

And Torsten had only allowed himself a five-minute distance via drive. Not a whisper nor a scream would be heard from the young mage. Bo had been a dangerous man, but never once to him. Not before. But the man he had known had died with a curse Was this collar that important, he asked himself, stepping into the threshold to find that very mage straightening with his presence, returning his phone to his pocket and raising his chin. There was a level of fear behind those eyes only he knew. That man he thought had been destroyed was in there, somewhere, behind those blond lashes. The tightening of his jaw, the deliberate blinks in twos.

Neither man would speak, as though caught in the gravity of each other's existence.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn felt a lump form in her throat the longer the two of them stared at each other. She couldn’t begin to imagine what either of them were thinking, if they were thinking anything at all.

How many years and how much pain had passed between them?

She got to her feet and moved to stand beside Bo, putting herself in Torsten’s line of sight.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked softly, unable to bear the silence.

Torsten/Bo: Both sets of green eyes found her. Neither said a word. Only the one she had regarded moved, nodding. Something had to be said, but words failed both men.

It took everything in Bo's power not to pull out his wand and materialize a crystal prison around the revenant. Maybe one just too long and sharp in his chest. Perhaps a curious case of bad luck. Perhaps send him back into the ocean again. His chest began to burn to the point of having to touch himself.

He turned away entirely.

Bronwyn/Brett: Shaky hands got another teacup out of the cabinet and filled it. Even if Bo hadn’t wanted tea, it didn’t feel right to give the cup that had been meant for him to Torsten. Just looking at it sitting on the table was enough to threaten tears for reasons she didn’t understand, but that could possibly be attributed to the suffocating tension in the kitchen.

{Text from Brett} Okay, baby. Dinner will be waiting

{Text from Brett} I love you

Torsten/Bo: Bo took a breath and placed his hand over one of his pockets. They didn't need to see what was underneath.

"Jeg bryr meg ikke om hva vi en gang var. Når dette er over, vil jeg aldri høre navnet ditt igjen. Jeg vil aldri tenke på deg igjen."

His voice had remained strong until the last sentence. He managed to swallow and keep his composure. He could have asked for nothing else but the strength to hold his head high.

"Jeg skjønner," Torsten sighed.

Bronwyn: She didn’t understand a word that was being said but it wasn’t yelling and that was reason enough to keep hoping. Everything felt so fragile, including her.

Perhaps she should sit and try to drink more tea. Anything to calm down.

Torsten/Bo: Torsten took a step toward the kitchen and was stopped abruptly by a twitch in Bo's shoulder. A tick he'd seen before, at the mill. One would think the revenant a statue.

"I'm sorry what happened to us. To you."

"I've already agreed. Opening your mouth is not intelligent."

Bronwyn: And up she got once more to stand not between them, but near to Bo’s side.

“Would you rather we all sit?” she asked him. “Or are you more comfortable standin’?”

Torsten/Bo: It was seeing Vincent from the corner of his eye, standing in the entryway watching them both that stuck one of his many nerves. Knuckles cracked with a fist, scoffing.

"Come here."

As though he had never left. Torsten could do nothing but stand directly in front of his long-left master.

"Bend down." A command purely out of intent, for once, to observe the ivory and gold collar. He could feel quintessence like a current running through the antique. Old, old magic. As old as revenants themselves.

This time, Bo's swallow was visible. Hands gently shaking. This felt like forgiveness. Doing away with one more piece of his control.

His hands retreated.

"Say it again. What you promised." Bo looked to Bronwyn.

Bronwyn: The commands were what did it. Seeing Torsten compelled to obey them was what made the dam overflow and had tears streaming down her face again. It was just as painful now as it had been then, back when she realized just how much Torsten meant to her.

She wanted to close her eyes, but then she wouldn’t have been able to meet Bo’s. And she needed to.

“If I have somethin’ to say to you,” she began, turning to face him fully, “I promise I’ll say it to you directly. I will never go behind yer back again. I give you my word.”

Torsten/Bo: A mantra had begun in his head. The only reason he didn't have Torsten picking up a kitchen knife and using it on himself. If he were honest with himself, there were two reasons. This was for Brett. This was absolutely for Brett, but this was to give Bronwyn peace. To dry a mother's tears. He was almost certain she was a sirin.

In one swift movement, the golden circle center of the collar was pushed. With a loud clack, the two metal ends split apart.

The collar was held in a white knuckle grip. He couldn't look at the man that was once his. Refused to note the white tan line around his throat. Only gasped and recoiled when pulled into Torsten's arms. His entire body shook. Cheeks red and eyes moist.

"Jeg gjorde det ikke for deg!" I didn't do it for you!

"I know. Takk. Takk."

Bo managed to retreat, refusing to look at anyone but the familiar watching him in the other room. Straightening his clothes like a lifeline.

"Take me home."

Bronwyn: Words were impossible. All Bronwyn could do was nod and gesture for Vincent to come and take Bo back.

The tears wouldn’t dry for a while yet, but that there was peace, there was no doubt. Peace and a gratitude and relief so profound she could hardly stand. She wanted to say something to Bo but couldn’t begin to find the words to express what she felt. This didn’t feel real.

“One day,” she managed, “I’ll know how to thank you. Get home safely.”

Torsten/Bo: There was a piece of Torsten gone. A nakedness to his throat. He wouldn't dare touch where it had been. Not in Bo's presence. After unwanted affection, he didn't dare move until Vincent neared and disappeared with the mage. Only then did he walk the few steps to the weeping druid and lift her in his arms. Their burden had been lifted.

And Bo's mind felt as though it were unraveling. He didn't want to walk to his car, drive himself home, and face his husband. He didn't want to do anything but process what had happened. No sooner had Vincent disappeared did he bite down on the back of his hand, doubling over just managing to breathe.

Bronwyn/Peabody: If hearing the final commands Torsten would ever be given overflowed the dam, Torsten touching her broke it completely. The release of tension, the realization that this was the very first time she was seeing him without anything but the clothes on his back, it was all just too much.

The only thing she was capable of doing was clinging to the man she loved and sobbing into his shoulder.

Whatever respite the universe decided to grant Bo wouldn’t be nearly as long as he would perhaps desire.

Not long after he returned, a pair of headlights would cut through the darkness as a squad car pulled into the lot. Their light had spotted the mage.

The headlights cut out, the engine shut off, and Jeremy Peabody emerged from the open door.

“…Bo?” he called. “That you over there?”

Torsten/Bo: The blond figure straightened with a deep nostril inhale. The two pieces of the collar were tossed in the passenger seat of his car. He couldn't pretend Peabody didn't exist, but there was nothing he could say without harming one of them. His means of escape was language.

"Jeg har det ikke bra. Du aner ikke hvor mye jeg vil skrike. Jeg vil ikke hjem. Jeg vil bare drepe noe. Jeg ønsker deg..." The mage sniffed again.

I'm not alright. You have no idea how much I want to scream. I don't want to go home. I just want to kill something. I wish you...

I wish you weren't so kind.

In New Orleans, Bronwyn was being carried upstairs to their bedroom. No words spoken. Only to exist with their emotions and allow his beloved to touch the pale line servility had created.

Bronwyn/Peabody: Peabody had heard Bo speaking his native language before, but that wasn’t what gave him pause. It was his tone and the distraught look on his face.

When Bo didn’t feel like talking he had no problem telling him to fuck off; this wasn’t that. This was closer to what some would call a cry for help.

“Do you want me to call Brett?” His tone wasn’t soft and gentle like Bronwyn’s had been. His was calm and reassuring.

Bronwyn didn’t dare to do that yet. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle it.

Right now it felt like she was finally releasing not just the past few months’ worth of tension, but years of it. For so long she’d wanted to see Torsten free of that collar and now that he was, she was nearly hysterical with relief.

Torsten/Bo: Torsten didn't feel anything in regards to his collar. Not with Bronwyn in his arms. His only priority was her comfort and that of their children. If she needed to cry, so be it. If she needed to be held, or a bath, or kissed into her hair, so be it.

His concern was also on the man he would never lay eyes on again. Every conversation they had ever had. From Poland to Iceland. To the comfort of his sister's den, surrounded by dogs and birds and the sweet sound of Flora's voice, filling the room with history and wisdom. To the sound of Bo's quick scratch writing, hanging on her every word. To their first and last kiss in his old bedroom. Where Bo had simply said, "I just wanted to know," before meeting his fate in America. It was done. He was gone. That man, he told himself again and again, was reborn into someone else.

But that someone else was very much the same. Traumas he couldn't remember. Those he wished he could forget. Those he was reliving right before Peabody's eyes.

Bo sat sideways in the driver's seat, wiping his face with just a little too much aggression.

He could manage to say it, but the bite wasn't there.

"Fuck off." But he didn't mean it, and he hated that he didn't mean it.

Bronwyn/Peabody: These days it was hard to say she needed to cry. A more accurate statement was that she couldn’t seem to do anything but cry.

Eventually she would exhaust herself, however. The ragged sobs would quiet until they became sniffles, her shoulders would gradually stop shaking, and she’d become a rag doll in the revenant’s arms.

No, he didn’t mean it. A deaf man in Reno could tell that he didn’t mean it.

How to proceed? It was established that when Bo wanted something, he asked for it. That included Brett. If Brett wasn’t here it was because Bo didn’t want him here, which meant he also probably didn’t want Peabody to call him.

Well. Answer was clear enough.

“…Want a beer?”

Torsten/Bo: She would cry for both of them. With a little encouragement to drink a sip of water, nothing else was said by the revenant. She would remain in his arms, above the sheets, eyes closed, allowing both of their minds to rest, free of at least one more burden.

Bo was watching the grass by his feet. He couldn't bring himself to look at Peabody. He didn't want to make that connection. The deputy already gave him mixed feelings. The obvious response to such nonsense was anger. Anger was exhausting.

"Beer is disgusting."

Peabody: The deputy wasn’t dissuaded. He could spot a situation that needed alcohol a mile off.

“Want a glass of wine? My place is close, and empty.” Bridget was working the night shift all week which worked out great since Bo didn’t like her.

Bo: Bo nearly scoffed at the idea of Peabody with a bottle of one before remembering Bridget. Of course.

He didn't want to go home. He knew what would happen when he did. But, Brett was waiting for him. Perhaps months ago...

"I have to go home." He felt it necessary to add, "Don't tell Brett you saw me."

Peabody: Peabody nodded. “Hey, I just returned from patrol and went in to do my paperwork. Didn’t see anybody.”

Bo: Deep breath. Held. Exhaled. "Thank you."

Peabody: “Don’t mention it.” He gave Bo another nod and walked across the lot to the side entrance of the station.

Bo: He'd forgotten what he'd requested for dinner. Forgotten what shirt Brett had been wearing. Driving back to the house was a blur. He'd managed to stop when required, but he couldn't say which route he had taken.

Walking through the front door, all he had in his hands were the keys and the collar.

Brett: Since the choice had been left to Brett, he’d elected to cook something simple and comforting. He’d made pasta with grilled veggies and some garlic herb toast and had a bottle of wine breathing on the counter.

He was dressed in a comfortable T-shirt and sweatpants and his hair was still wet from his shower.

And when Bo walked in with the collar in his hands, any and all questions he might have had were immediately answered.

“Hungry?” he asked softly.

Bo: Eyes and cheeks were still red. The collar was still in his fist, white-knuckled when he raised both hands to his forehead. Shoulders heavy and shaking. This was exactly what he knew would happen. One look at Brett. Just the softness of his voice, and he was doomed. He had no intention to cry, but such gentleness tore at his walls so expertly.

Brett: “If you want to scream,” he began, “the walls are soundproof. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. If you want to eat in silence, we will. If you want to throw something, the table is set.”

Brett stepped closer. “If you want comfort, I’m right here.”

The choice was Bo’s to make and would be respected.

Bo: He wanted to hate this man. Wrath was an easy emotion. Cathartic. Rage was an old friend with a hand on his shoulder. Had been since childhood. But this was a man he actually cared about. A man worth the effort.

But by bedding his primary instinct, all that was left was raw and tender. Words he could not articulate.

The lights in the foyer flickered.

"I feel... it. On me. Him." Elaborating would hurt his husband. Hurt himself. Show more vulnerability. He began to pull at his hair.

Brett: Brett didn’t have to ask who ‘he’ was or question the why or the how of Bo being able to feel something on him. Not when Brett himself was so familiar with such a sensation.

The flickering lights didn’t startle him. Not anymore. “I’ll start the shower for you and wash your clothes so you can get clean.”

Bo: All he could manage was a single nod. The two pieces were placed on the foyer table. It took everything in his power not to throw the collar. The catharsis it would bring would pale in comparison to the memory he would harbor of Brett flinching.

Every movement was mindful, shaking just to sustain, not to scream or break.

His wand was placed on the bathroom sink. Arms aching and loose, making his clothes a struggle.

Brett: Brett turned on the shower and got Bo a fresh towel while the water warmed. A bath probably would have been more relaxing but he knew how much better it felt in circumstances like these to feel like you were actively getting clean. Besides, having water gently fall on you felt just as good as sitting in it.

He longed to help Bo, to reassure him in some way, but he wouldn’t. Not unless he was asked.

Bo: "I frighten you, don't I?"

Hands rested on the edge of the sink, staring down the drain so as not to look at his husband.

Brett: He shook his head. “No, baby. You don’t and you never have. I’ve been afraid of blood, my father, the vampires in this town, but never of you.”

Bo: "Not when I scream? Why? Why are you like this?"

Brett: “Screaming’s never been something I’m afraid of.” He’d have a rough time doing the job he did if that were the case.

“Why am I like what?”

Bo: "Why are you complicit with everything I do! You let me do anything! When I throw things! When I scream! I left the house and you let me! You're a doormat!"

You are the balm and the gauze and the cool running water and you save my life again and again and I don't deserve you. I'm not worthy of you, and I will push you away before you hurt me.

Brett: Brett was quiet for a moment. He let himself listen to the shower running, let the echo of Bo’s raised voice fade into it.

“I’d rather be a doormat than a jailer,” he said quietly. “You know what I spent a lot of time wanting when I was a kid? To be allowed to be upset. To be allowed to feel anything really. If something made me sad, I couldn’t show it. If my parents made me angry or hurt my feelings, I couldn’t say anything. I had to swallow it. I made myself learn how to be silent when I cried because if my dad heard me, he’d call me names and slap me. As I got older I told myself that when I became an adult, I was never going to be like him. I wasn’t going to get angry with someone for feeling something. I wouldn’t hurt someone when they were already hurting.

“So if you need to call me a doormat, that’s fine. Maybe I am. But I’m not going to get upset with you for being upset, and I’m not going to keep you chained so you can’t ever leave the house. You’re not a doll. You’re my husband.”

Bo: The more Brett spoke, the heavier his words became. Weighing on his shoulders to the point of bending over the sink, held up solely by his elbows. Hands rested the weight of his face by his forehead. He couldn't remember a single instance of his childhood, but he felt Brett's experiences as though his own. He had seen them upon the pages in ink. A tyrant Catholic and Ventrue dictator for father and uncle cut from the same cloth.

"I'm sorry," Bo sobbed. "Jeg mente det ikke. Jeg burde ikke ha gjort det."

Brett: “I know.” Brett’s voice was so, so soft. He hadn’t been given permission to touch his husband, and he didn’t, but he did step closer so Bo could feel that he wasn’t alone.

None of this was personal. He knew Bo wasn’t lashing out because of him or something he’d done. This was simply a rough situation, and Bo was simply a man with demons trying his absolute best to fight them and keep them from winning.

“I know you didn’t, baby. I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you.”

Bo: He simply needed to exist. To breathe and allow the tension in his chest to subside. He waited, and it lingered. Only the sobs between broken breaths eased the clench.

Some minutes later, he managed, "Will you... shower with me?"

Brett: That was perfectly fine by him. Bo didn’t have to say or do anything. As long as he was breathing and trying for calm, that was already a victory.

Brett nodded. “Absolutely. Do you want help getting undressed?”

Bo: "No." He'd already dismantled enough of his pride for what remained of the year. The least he could do was remove his clothes.

Brett: “Okay.” In that case, Brett would go grab another towel and start removing his own clothes.

He’d already showered but that hardly mattered. This was about helping Bo to feel clean and safe and calm again.

[pathfindernorth2]

The First Semester

Koride Ulawa is one of the most intimidating professors on Campus, although the heroes were only coming to learn this.  A Cascade Bearer/Rain Scribe, she is as fierce as the Eye of Abendego.  Some think it strange then, that she chose to focus her studies on entomology and arachnology.  But she knows in her heart that these creatures hold power and potential overlooked and underestimated.  For it is in these creatures that she sees an endless balance, cycling and peaceful somehow even in its violence.  Insects and spiders are interwoven into the very fabric of the world, and through them the tapestry of the world is woven.  We can do little to change that, and perhaps it is best left alone.  Take for example the humble tardigrade, life at it’s most invincible, the only life we know of that lives in space and on the moon.  Insects were here before any of us, and they will be here long after the last dragon is dead.  In their DNA lies the lessons of time, and there is no more noble power to study.  

As High Mage Oyamba walked away a thought hit the group.  He was not the leader of the Emerald Boughs, not really anyway.  He said he was, but something about the way he said it was just off.  No, he is the head of the University so he surely cannot lead any particular school.  He probably takes the mantle so that there can be some figurehead, but learning who the actual head of the Emerald Boughs is would be challenging...perhaps a stone best left unturned.  But High Mage Oyamba also clearly had history with Teacher Ott, which the group did some sleuthing into and found that Teacher Ott would have become the High Mage...if not for the arrival and presence of Oyamba.  For students in their first semester, it seemed a bit aggressive to be sticking their noses into high level university politics...but this group has never shied away from being pests.  

The heroes returned to Teacher Ott, and he asked them how they fared with the books.  “We got them,” Wonko proudly stated.  “Excellent!” Teacher Ott replied with a smile, and noting the bee hive which he could magically restore, “I’d love to get back to work!”  He expected the group to hand them over, obviously.  The group hesitated, then huddled up.  A lively and polarized discussed developed regarding what these books were about and whether to turn them over to Teacher Ott.  Teacher Ott’s enthusiasm faded to concern, then to annoyance, then to unfriendliness.  “I told you those books were important to my research and you now go and collect them from the school library and are holding them hostage?”  His eyes burned with rage.  He turned to Jolene.  “Jolene, I’ll pay you 50 gps as a bounty to bring me those books.”  Jolene was unemotional in her response, having been in this situation many times.  “Make it 100, 50 now, 50 when I deliver them.”  Teacher Ott was furious.  “Hostage taking and extortion.  Fine, you have a deal.”  He handed her the 50, “but I expect the complete contents of my list, or you will be returning every last coin.”  

Jolene explained to the group that this was a great outcome.  You don’t just do things for free, Teacher Ott was shady and asked us to defy the High Mage at great risk to ourselves, and we deserve this. “Now give him the books and let’s walk out with our coin.  I’m not going to shoot anyone.  Can’t you see how good a deal this is?”  MC thought about it.  “That’s fine, but there’s one problem.  We don’t have all the books.  I just met up with Esi, she is my friend and study mate after all and she no longer has Volume 17 of the Collected Field Notes of Mata Digimari.  It’s been returned to the school.”  Jolene was staring bullets at him, the others felt something was off (MC had been gone to the tireless hall for a good spell to have returned with such a mundane report, and the books were found in a chest, stashed in the bushes, not in a library of Paladins) but nobody could quite put their finger on it.  The group decided it’s one book out of 20 in that big chest of field notes.  Teach Ott might not even notice, and worst case scenario they could just go check it out themselves (or Ott could).  So the heroes declared all books accounted for, and Teacher Ott paid the remaining sum without checking to see if the deliverable was complete.  As he walked away he said, “Students at the Magaambya succeed here by engaging in acts of charity and service to the community.  Keep doing what you just did to me, and you won’t last long.”  The comment echoed more than the sound of the slamming door, and made some of the heroes feel hollow.  Jolene felt nothing but the satisfaction of a job well done.  She had secured 100gps from nothing.  Teacher Ott used them, she used him.  Fair and square and that is the way of the world.  

Back at the Spire Dormitory, the heroes were relaxing after a day of classes. The semester was nearing its end and most of the students had done well in their classes.  This is how everyone fared in the First Semester:

1.  MC and Esi were gaining a reputation together.  They answered every question, delivered the best work product, and aced their exams.  They were at the top of their Tempest Sun Mage classes with two levels gained.  Nobody could match them when they worked together and got into the flow, although it also set them on such a pedestal that many avoided them for the same reason.  Teacher Ott was so pleased Esi found a friend, and favored MC and Mez while shunning the rest of the cohort for the rest of the semester.    

2.  Speaking of the Tempest sun Mages, Mez was experiencing something that few tempest sun mages had before - popularity!  She was fine in class, and was able to focus her studies on the Emerald Boughs (and Ignaci Canterels), but everyone saw the two tempest sun mage beads on her necklace all semester and couldn’t forget her triumph at the First Starday Tournament.  She was a star, and popular members of the other branches would sit with her at the dining hall and in classes.  She was invited to parties and fawned over by all sorts of students.  Ignaci relished this, and competed with the best of them in his finest clothes and manicured style.  But were they a “couple?”  No, assured Ignaci with a smile more stunning that she could imagine her fist ever being.  Unless she wanted them to be.  

3.  Caldaen was doing just fine in his Cascade Bearer classes.  Not at the top like Chizire (did that guy even study?!) but a solid level gained.  He would gain a second level in his accomplishment with Teacher Koride.  She seemed to take a liking to him, and he felt the greatness of this place, looking up to the towering statutes of the TEN, including White Bull the Iroxi champion that is a legend to his people.  

4.  Gai Lan was quietly dominating.  The yin of his personality counterbalanced by the yang of his magic - a combination much like his friend Haibram.  The two of them were like outcast skaters on campus, but they liked flying under the radar.  Haibram was a frequent visitor to the tattoo parlor, and they acted confidently beyond the social constructs of the school.  Teacher Zuma, a lone Orc on campus, was also into this duo and supported them enthusiastically from his tattoo parlor and the halls of the Uzunjati.  

5.  Nick wasn’t sure what he was expecting in his first semester at the Magaambya, but he certainly didn’t expect to be a mailman stripper...in love.  Strands of Glowing dawn was beautiful, elegant, and mysterious.  And while it took some time to understand his role dating a single mom of two, her twins Zachva and Zanvi were surprisingly articulate and independent for being 5 year olds.  He rarely saw them.  Mail delivery...that wasn’t going so well.  He hadn’t earned any money yet, and got totally lost.  But hopefully he would improve.  His classes went just fine, and he earned a solid emerald boughs bead.  Strange though...he cannot seem to remember who his professor was.  

6.  Wonko had a solid semester as well in his pursuit of Emerald Bough classes and gained a level.  Wonko asked a lot of questions and as the lone goblin in his class certainly got peoples attention.  High Mage Oyamba would check in on him and seemed to like him ever since his display of valor in saving the Spellskeins.  Generally Wonko started establishing a reputation as a naturally kind-hearted person devoted to acts of service, and such a thing is respected at the highest level...and not easily taught. 

7.  Jolene was on the other end of the spectrum.  She still does not know why she was even here and she goes back to that moment her horse dumped her off into the mud of a downpour.  Why did she come here again?  Damn to hell the ruthless grip of alcoholism, and she feels more like an outsider every day.  But what she does know is that for some reason she has been let into this fancy place, and it is is very nice.  Her unique abilities also gained her a bead in the Emerald Bough School, but she doesn’t really care about that.  She’s never really cared about anything.  But a frail and fractured friend came into her life -  the gnoll bone keeper Anchor Root.  Dare she say a best friend?  She wants to avoid the insulting canine metaphors, but if you have only one friend, if you don’t even know what friendship is, she must be a best friend, right?  Why does that saccharine BS even matter?!  For a reason beyond Jolene’s comprehension, it does.  More than anything.  

Early one morning Anchor Root approached the group.  “Hi. Um, Teacher Koride wants to see you, and she seemed pretty upset.  I’m sorry!”  She ran back into her room.  It had probably taken hours for her to summon the courage to deliver the message, and doing so looked like it exhausted her.  The group came to understand that Anchor Root likely was to blame for her own anxiety this time around, as she admitted that she had seen the heroes go into the old tree stump library and had experienced first hand the insectile invasion that followed.  She is secretly ashamed of her guilty pleasure, which is spying on people where nobody knows she is there.  It’s about the most anti-social thing imaginable, but it reflects a craving.  She wants to be like the cool kids, she wants to study them, to be a part of their group even if they don’t know she is there.  The only difference between voyeurism and spy-work is insecurity.  

Teacher Koride’s intimidating reputation was immediately on display as the heroes entered her laboratory.  “As the entomologist on campus, my door has been hammered all morning.  The Dining Hall, the Leshy Grove, The Speaker’s Stage...all seem to have strange infestations.  From where?”  She levels a stern gaze on the group.  “Well that seems to be my problem today, and I am making it your problem.  Go to those locations, and ask Anchor Root about Centipedes.  Please bring me back a sample of each infestation, but try not to stir things up more than they already are.  Insects exist in a careful balance, and disturbing that balance is more catastrophic than you can imagine.  I’ll figure out what is going on and tend to it.  I just need samples.  You may leave.”

The heroes spoke with Anchor Root again, and she described seeing a swarm of centipedes, but they stayed well clear of her chickens.  The chickens feasted on them, and they seemed clearly unwilling to tussle with what to the centipedes was a most voracious dinosaur.  MC of course barely heard the last of Koride’s words as he wheeled faster than anyone had ever seen him move making a bee-line for the imperiled dining hall.  When he arrived, to his horror, he saw it was closed and the students were being served paltry food in the moist rain of the courtyard.  Lumusi the head chef was distraught, but when he said he would get to the bottom of it, was cautiously pleased.  “Be careful. Inside is a swarm of poisonous centipedes and they are in everything.”  Then she looked genuinely worried.  “Also sous chef Abena has gone missing.  Last I saw, she was in the kitchen when the centipedes swarmed in from every nook and cranny.”  MC returned to the group to find them planning for the next move.  

Anchor Root was approaching panic-level anxiety now, with this second confrontation.  In response, Jolene expected she would feel anger or disgust, but instead she felt a power inside her she couldn’t quite understand.  Empathy.  She gave an incredible counseling like only a friend who truly cares can.  Through an exchange of heartfelt words, Anchor Root flashed inspiration, courage, and confidence that she didn’t know was inside her either.  The bond between Jolene and Anchor Root grew stronger and Anchor Root agreed to accompany the gang to the kitchen.  With her monstrous chicken on a leash, Anchor Root easily parted the swarm and saved Abena from her hiding place (a cast Iron Cauldron).  Abena hugged Anchor Root for saving her from a horrible death, and Anchor Root smiled for the first time in longer than she could remember.  The more naturally inclined heroes witnessed the power of Jolene’s empathy and tried a little dose of their own in coaxing the centipedes to go home.  They succeeded without harming a single one, and as they were retreating into the cracks of the masonry, they snatched one as a sample.  

The Leshy Grove was abuzz with activity.  Clearly the Leshy’s were building something, although it was all in parts.  They would be ready for the second Starday Tournament and they expected to even the score with the heroes.  However, their efforts were being hampered by an untimely infestation of bark beetles that were burrowing their way into their creations.  These creatures were not even native to the Mwangi, so their presence was very strange, as the heroes quickly figured out.  Further, Mez, the champion of the sparring fields, noticed that the bark beetles appeared to be eating shapes in the wood in what she could have sworn were runes - a circle of runes that (if one could believe bugs capable of such a thing) were looking strangely like a summoning circle.  If Mez knew anything about the arcane, she knew that such machinations must be precise and choreographed to succeed and the beetles were mid ritual!  She quickly destroyed several of the runes (which the leshy’s thought was pretty suspicious since it destroyed one of their construct components they would have unleashed on her).  But in doing so, Mez disrupted the ritual and the beetles dispersed.  Of course the heroes obtained a sample before that happened.  

Finally, the Speaker’s Stage, which sits on a promontory in the warded moat of the Magaambya, overlooks a popular square in Nantambu.  Families were about on the river bank since there was a nice break in the weather and some sunshine pouring through the late afternoon.  The Speaker’s Stage is a place where members of the Magaambya will make proclamations or put on shows for the people of Nantambu, and some of the cities more affluent members, patrons of the academy, etc. will come to see them.  Today, there was a small group on the other side of the moat when Caldaen hulked onto the stage.  One finely dressed member of the city, out playing with his children on the banks of the moat hailed him.  “Who goes there on the speaker’s stage of the mighty Magaambya?  Might we have a show today in store?  How wonderfully unexpected!”  At this a small crowd formed.  Caldaen froze.  He was here to find bugs, not perform anything!  But the rest of the heroes had not come with him, so he tried his best to oblige.  For Caldaen knows that acts of public service come in all forms, and to say no would look...rude.  So he started swishing his tail and doing a dance of his ancestors he had seen back home.  The only problem was that he had no idea how to actually do that dance, and once he started he realized quickly that he did not know what he was doing. 

The crowd looked confused.  Was he insulting them, mocking them?  Nick ran up to the stage to try to salvage the bomb.  And drop a bomb he did.  Nick split off his shirt to reveal his ripped pecs, perfectly manscaped and performed a dance so sexy, so alluring, that the grownups were awestruck, and the children dropped their ice cream cones, mouth agape.  Now this was a performance!  The rest of the heroes arrived without context to see Caldaen doing the Iroxi Shuffle and Nick just slaying it.  In the meantime they saw the harmless swarm of waterstriders on the moat and gathered a sample.  They would return the samples to Koride who would be pleased with their work and promised to get to the bottom of this.  In fact, Caldaen would impress her and introduce himself as a hopeful Cascade Bearer.  She softened up greatly and they engaged in rigorous academic discussion about the insects and what this all meant.  They came to the conclusion that it is a magical item, more so than a person, that likely caused this, and the center of the swarms was none other than Teacher Ott’s office at the Archhorn Library.  She gifted him a second Cascade Bearer bead for excellent work, and welcomed him to her laboratory any time.  

But back to Nick.  A group of 20-something ladies from across the moat yelled to him.  “What do they call you?!  Wow you are HOT!”  And Gai Lan just felt it right to yell “Nick the Dick!” thinking it was because Nick was an asshole.  But the ladies ate it up, and a chant started among them, Nick. THE.  Dick.  Nick. THE. Dick.  The man who had initially inquired introduced himself as Asanda, a member of the City Council of Nantambu.  He bent down and with some magic of his own, prepared a small paper boat which caught wind in it’s small sails and floated across the moat.  On the boat he placed a feather, a token of his appreciation.  What an unexpectedly alluring show from the wizards of the Magaambya.  

Nick hoped that Strands of Glowing Dawn wasn’t seeing this.  He really had no intention of being unfaithful in this performance.  But something told him that she would find out, and he wasn’t sure if that was awesome or not.  

[tartglias]

almost falling (headcanons)

characters: scaramouche and xiao

warnings: VIOLENCE. i’m 98% sure i kept it slight but just in case don’t read if you’re sensitive please!!

request: “Anyway, so I'm requesting for Xiao and Scaramouche (fitting, they're sadists HAHA) their s/o (separate) is about to be thrown off the balcony after someone pushed them and hit the railings and they're about to hang on edge of their life. The boys just came back after whatever mission or errand they finished and saw the blasphemous attempt of a masochist (because how DARE they attempt such on their s/o?) Trying to kill their love. They sprinted or used their powers to get to them and stopped calamity from unraveling (sorta) into their world. Yes add some Overprotectiveness and probs them hunting to rip that masochist's head if it's not too much. Headcanons pls--“

[a/n: i loved this headcanon and i knew what you write from the start (which i never do lol), but the mental gymnastics i had to do to find the vocabulary omg... i can’t say i’m a big fan of how this turned out because of that]

•••••

Scaramouche

Scaramouche had to do some business in Mondstadt, and since you wanted to visit your friend Amber, why not accompany him? It took a while to convince him since he usually doesn’t like the idea of mixing his personal and work lives, but he has a soft spot for you, believe it or not. Not that he would ever admit it.

Before he left you to do your things, he made you promise to meet him at the Good Hunter after an hour, on the dot. He had a busy schedule, but he still wanted to treat you lunch so you excitedly agreed by kissing his cheek and nodding.

After the meeting, he hoped to see you sitting down at one of the tables waiting for him, but instead, he saw no one. “I thought I made myself clear about punctuality” he thought.

“Did you see my partner? They’re about this height tall, *hair color* and probably accompanied by some friend called Amber?” he asked the girl that took orders at the Good Hunter, with a very obvious fake smile. “Not really, I’m sorry” she said, giving an apologetic look, which quickly turned into a frown. “Although, I thought Outrider Amber was out on a mission today. She even ordered some food supplies this morning, are you sure your partner was with her?”

He took a moment to think. He knows you were meeting with Amber because you kept rambling about how you haven’t seen her in forever and you wanted to surprise her. He can’t recall a time when you lied to him, either. Something about having an honest and open relationship with him, so you couldn’t have lied. And you wouldn’t leave the city without informing him, either.

So he decided to scratch out the possibility of having to search you through all Mondstadt. Then, he nodded towards the girl and left without saying a word.

Walking through the city, he paid attention to details. Something was off, he was sure of it.

After a while, he heard a yell. At first he wasn’t going to do anything about it, it’s not his problem plus he still has to find you. But when he realized the owner of the voice yelled “Leave me alone!”, he knew it was you. He ran towards the origin of the sound and found out that you were on top of the wall that protected Mondstadt.

He climbed as fast as he could and when he got to the top, his blood boiled at the sight.

A big tall man was holding your arms tightly, and then pushed you to the edge. Your back hit the railing and you let out a pained yell. You saw the man approach you with intentions of pushing you again, but before you could lift your arms to protect yourself, you heard thunder.

“You heard them, leave them alone. Now” you heard Scaramouche say. The atmosphere became dark and tense very quick, making a shiver go down your spine.

The man let out a short laugh. “You can’t intimidate me so easily. They were mine first, I’m just reclaiming my property”

Oh boy

“I don’t think you heard me, stupid. Leave them alone, now. Or I’ll make sure you suffer the most painful and slow tortures ever imagined. I have a whole book I want to test out anyways, you know.” Scaramouched threatened, and when you saw the look on his face, you gasped. You never saw him like that

He had a creepy smile, no, it was the smile of a sadist, actually. Small thunders came out of his fingers, and by each second, they grew stronger. You noticed that the man started shaking, now reconsidering everything. Scaramouche tilted his head a bit and let out a laugh. “You don’t want to play anymore?”

The man quickly left, or more like ran for his life without sparing you a second glance. You dropped down to the floor and noticed the sky get clearer, and so did the sound of thunder. You were still teary-eyed and overwhelmed from the situation with the man, but you lifted up your head to see a calmer Scaramouche.

You didn’t notice before, but his purple eyes were sparkling with pink thunder, and once he kneeled down in front of you, they turned back to their original color.

He wrapped his arms around you, keeping you close and away from the edge. “Are you alright, my beloved?” he asked you, a hint of concern filling his face. “Now I am. Scaramouche... I never saw you like that” you said, holding his hands that previously let out sparks and thunder.

You heard him sigh. “I lost control. Your scream and then seeing you almost falling... it made me snap. I can’t lose you.”

You kissed him, hoping that this way he can understand that you’re not scared of him and also reassuring him you’re not going anywhere either.

“You scared him for life” you said once you pulled away, laughing slightly. “I’ll scare him for eternity because he won’t be alive after I catch him”

Xiao

He told you numerous times to call his name if you ever found yourself in trouble. Even if it’s just a whisper, a thought even, you just have to say “Xiao” and he would drop whatever he was doing to come to rescue you.

In full honestly, you thought you could handle things on your own. You didn’t need him to come to rescue you, unless a very real danger was knocking on your door. Which unfortunately, leads to this situation.

Moments earlier, you were at the top floor of the inn, waiting for Xiao to come back. Everything was normal, until you noticed two suspicious looking men approach you. At first, you didn’t think much of it since adventurers often ask you for certain locations or roads. But this thought quickly changed when one of them came from behind, a little too close for your liking, before covering your mouth with his hand.

“A little birdie told us you’re close to an adeptus” one of the two men said, standing in front of you with a smug smile. “We need a favor”

It happened very quick, you were fighting for your life as you screamed and tried to kick the man holding you down. You almost succeeded, if it wasn’t for the other man in front of you. He held your arms tightly and pushed you towards the edge, you lost your balance and tripped over it, but quickly managed to grab onto the railing.

“Go on. Call the adeptus for help, we’ll love to have a small chat with-“ the man started saying, but got cut off by a strong wind that made him trip over. It was Xiao.

His eyes immediately landed on you, you were trying so hard to lift yourself up but you were slowly slipping. You weren’t going to last much longer and rage filled both his body and mind almost instantly.

How dare they lay a finger on you to get to him? “Worthless. Pathetic. Stupid.” he muttered each time he hit the men, until knocking them out. His eyes went back to you, and he immediately sprinted towards the railing.

But he was late

Your hands that desperately tried to grip the railing and lift yourself up were red and they hurt, and just when he was about to extend his hand for you to take, you slipped and fell.

You thought it was over, truly. You yelled out Xiao’s name as you tried to get hold of anything that could possibly prevent you from hitting the ground, but you were far away and the floor was coming closer and closer. You closed your eyes, ready to face your end.

But that end didn’t come, and you found yourself wrapped in Xiao’s arms while strong winds surrounded you, keeping you from hitting the ground abruptly. Once his feet touched the floor, you heard a faint sigh of relief from him.

Now on the ground, you dropped to the floor while you sobbed in Xiao’s arms, suddenly very aware of how close you came to meeting death. He kept you close to his body, as if you’re gonna slip away from him again. He faced many monsters and wrath in his life, but he never felt as scared as he did at the moment.

“I’m sorry” Xiao muttered out once your crying calmed down. Drying your tears with the sleeve of your shirt, you looked at him questioningly. “You almost died because they were after me”

This made you cry more

He was kind of confused? Why were you crying again?

“Xiao you don’t have to apologize because its not your fault at all and you also saved me! I should apologize for not being careful and tripping!” you sobbed again. “But it’s not your fault either...” he whispered as he patted your head, not sure how to calm you down.

Xiao doesn’t kill humans, but nothing is going to stop him from making hilichurls, mages, and other monsters appear in the way of these two men. He’s going to make them pay (indirectly)

[leopardqueen15]

My personal headcannon for a Rayllum reconciliation scene

This is just something that popped into my head late at night when I was thinking about Rayllum in Season 4 of TDP. Basically, it's my version of Rayllum becoming a couple again! They're too adorable to be angry at each other!!I accept constructive criticism. Enjoy! #TheDragonPrince

~

She saw him on the balcony, the sunset illuminating him with soft hues of orange and red. Callum stood before an easel, a palette of paints in one hand, a brush gliding across the canvas in his other. Just looking at him sent pangs of regret and sorrow through her heart like twin daggers. Rayla knew how much she'd hurt Callum when she left and she'd hated herself for doing so every day. The worst part was that it hadn't been worth it. She failed to find Viren, her parents or Runaan. The only thing she'd gained was regret. But Rayla knew avoiding Callum wasn't going to repair the shattered bond between them. Taking a deep breath to calm her jittery nerves, Rayla slowly walked towards him, her legs shaky and unstable. She hadn't felt this anxious about anything in years.

Callum's head turned slightly to glance at her before returning to his work. Edging closer, Rayla realised he was painting Zubeia, which brought back a painful memory. When the Dragon Queen awoke, they both stood together, hands interlocked, proof that humans and elves could get along peacefully. She recalled the burst of love and pride in her heart, a feeling long lost.

"It's a beautiful painting," Rayla complimented, trying to start a conversation.

"Thanks." Callum replied stiffly, his back still facing her. "What do you want Rayla?"

"To talk to you. To apologise for what I did."

Callum scoffed, lowering his paintbrush. "And you decided to wait two years to do so?"

"I tried to write to you Callum, I really did. But I never knew what to say or how to phrase things."

"You could've said anything! Two whole years with no contact and you'd gone hunting for an extremely dangerous dark mage!" Callum raged, throwing down his palette and brush. "I thought you were dead, Rayla! I waited for months for a single letter, anything that would confirm you were still alive!"

Silence blanketed the pair, both in shock after Callum's outburst. Guilt flooded Rayla, almost choking her, and stinging tears formed in her eyes.

"You have every right to be angry at me. I deserve it. I know there's no way for me to take back the pain I've caused us both and the time we've lost. I'm so sorry for not writing, I just didn't know if you'd even read anything from me," Rivulets of tears were now flowing down her cheeks. Tentatively, she grasped one of Callum's hands and placed it over her heart. "Every beat it takes is for you. You're my heart, Callum, I can't live without you. I left alone because the thought of losing you was too much. I'd never forgive myself if I allowed you to come with me and you got hurt or...or worse. And then I'd have to tell Ezran that.."

Sobs racked her body; Callum's furious expression melted like ice in the sun and he wrapped his remaining arm around her waist, pulling her to him and touching his forehead with hers.

"I'm not entirely defenceless you know," he whispered.

"I know. I was just scared of that scenario becoming a reality. You've done so much for me. You learned to trust me after I tried to kill you and your brother, overcame your prejudices about elves and saved my life dozens of times. You jumped off the pinnacle of the Storm Spire, relying on a spell that you hadn't mastered, for me. Losing you, Callum, it would kill me. Besides, Ezran needed you more than I did, with ruling a kingdom and all."

Callum sighed deeply and averted his eyes.

"I love you, Callum. I hope one day, I'll earn your trust, your forgiveness, and maybe your love." Letting his hand go, Rayla started to unwind the arm around her waist, but Callum held her tighter and met her gaze.

"I understand now. I love you too," Smiling, Callum gently kissed her forehead. "I forgive you Rayla."

Happiness and relief exploded inside her and a grin spread across her face. Her hands rose and clasped around his neck. "That's not how this works. You're supposed to still be angry at me!"

Laughing, Callum wrapped his second hand around her. "I've been angry for two years Rayla. I was still mad when you arrived, but I was mostly relieved when you walked through those doors, relieved that you were unscathed and alive. Avoiding you was so difficult as I just wanted to hold you and make sure you were real. I'm done with being angry at you. All I want to feel about you now is love."

The crushing weight vanished from her mind and Rayla leaned towards Callum and kissed him. They'd kissed before, but this one felt unique, better than their previous ones. To Rayla, it felt like a promise.

A promise of an undying love.

[iamreddit]

Run away (Venti)

So this is based off of @pandoraw27 Self Aware AU in which the characters are aware they are in a game and are yandere for the player. I highly suggest checking their page out, they respond to a lot of asks and it’s great. This is also planned to be a little series, if it goes well at least, where the premise is roughly the same, but the reader/player runs to a different character. If you want to have a specific character be next or have it written feel free to let me know! I’m not used to writing in second person so sorry if it’s not up to par.

Warnings!: Yandere behavior, kidnapping, mild mentions of blood

To say that you were a little freaked out would be a horrendous understatement. But being transported into a video game world and basically held hostage by one of the game's characters would do that to anyone. Albedo was nice, mostly. He was still the mostly emotionless man you meet while playing the game, but he was still nice, if a little obsessed.

Another understatement. Albedo himself admitted as much himself, though it was clear he played it down. Even with all his emotional issues it was painfully clear how much he was obsessed, and he wasn’t the only one either. Albedo has let it slip that there were others who were aware, others who were just as obsessed and not as kind, caring, merciful as him.

You waited for him to head out to get some materials for his newest experiment. You had been with him in Dragonspine for about a week now, and you’ve had enough. So what if the other characters were just as bad as him? If you were going to be trapped with an obsessive, self proclaimed boyfriend, you may as well choose your own poison right?

At least fifteen minutes went by before you decided it was safe to make your move. And so, you set off into the cold of the mountain.

If you remembered correctly, you could probably make it to the statue of the seven before Albedo knew you were gone, and with any luck you could run past any monsters and not run into the alchemist. After that it would just take some luck.

The first problem was the bridge. There weren’t any extra gliders, not that you knew how to use one, which meant that you had to either climb, or run and hope to clear the gap.

Climbing was the choice you made, cautiously grasping for hand and foot holds as you made your way across the gap. The air was cold but the rock made your hands even colder, making it even harder to hold on.

Just as you were about to grab the wood of the broken bridge, your foot slipped on a patch of ice. In a panic you quickly grab the bridge just before you fell, accidentally cutting your hand on a rock.

You manage to pull yourself onto the bridge and lay on your back to catch your breath. Your right hand is cut pretty badly, an almost straight line that runs along your palm is bleeding pretty badly, but you’ll live. For the moment it doesn’t hurt, and you can find something to bandage it later.

Now comes the hardest part: getting by those hilichurls. You know it’s a direct path to the statue if you stay going right, but there’s a small group of hilichurls along the path.

You stand near the teleport point to warm up a bit, watching the hilichurls dance. Then you run. It took you a while to cross the gap, and even more time to catch your breath. There was no telling when Albedo would be back and he could cross this distance much faster than you.

And you wouldn’t get a second chance.

You manage to dodge some of their attacks and outrun most of them, but an arrow got lodged into your left side and a blast of ice from the mage hit your right arm, but you kept running.

As you ran they eventually lost interest, and you stumbled your way up the spiral walkway to the statue.

It was cold.

So, so cold.

The fire seelkie warmed you a little before you walked over to the statue. You hoped you were right about this.

You turned your back and collapsed down on the foot of the statue, using it to support your back as you caught your breath.

It was only a second or so before you felt a warm breeze. When you opened your eyes you were greeted with the sight of a very concerned Venti. He rushed over to you, the statue lighting up as your wounds healed. It felt nice, not unlike the breeze Venti brought with him when he arrived.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here? How-Why-“ Venti was at a loss for words. It took him a second to remember that Albedo conducted his experiments here, then everything made sense.

Your first thought was ‘He knows my name?’, but of course he did. Albedo said others were self aware, and Albedo knew your name too, after all.

Venti was about to talk again when the both of you heard someone running. You both turn and you saw Albedo pause for a second, shocked to see Venti, before the wind obscured your vision.

When the wind dissipated you found yourself at the base of Venessa’s tree. Venti looked visibly shaken before his expression darkened into something you’d never seen on his face before.

“Did he hurt you?” Rage. It was rage.

“No, I just ran into some hilichurls.” That made his expression soften a little, but not by much.

“But he just let you wander the mountain alone? Even if there weren’t monsters, you could still freeze to death!”

“Well, I kinda didn’t ask for permission,” and you explained how you got there, and how your last week had been. He sat beside you and listened closely, you decided not to bring up the lack of personal space he gave you.

“Wait wait wait. So you’re saying you decided to just, pick someone to stick with and try to avoid all the others?” Venti cut you off as you tried to explain why you ran.

“I know it sounds stupid, but there’s no way I can fight. Everyone has magic and their visions, and years of experience and I’ve barely thrown a punch. Someone is going to catch me, and I doubt that I’m going to become some great escape artist. So, why not pick my poison, right?” You turn to look him in the eyes, his face very close to yours.

“And you picked me?” Venti leaned a little closer, eyes wide as he was ecstatic to realize you had chosen him. Well of course you had, he was your favorite after all, right?

“Well I hope you realize,” he leaned over more, causing you to lean back to make space, but he just kept leaning. He stopped when his nose was touching your cheek, his bright eyes stared into yours.

“That I’m never letting you go.”

Again, I’m not used to writing in second person, so I hope this isn’t too bad. Hope you enjoyed it!

[syrupwit]

Hello and happy DADWC! Ran across your (beautifully painful) fenders thing and would like to prompt a "seriously?? him?!" kind of realization-of-feelings moment for one or both of them? Ty for blessing us with your writing 🙏🙏

Hi, thank you for this also, and the compliment! For the record, just sending me whatever as a prompt, or requesting continuations of previous fills for DADWC, is totally fine with me.

Under the cut, please find ~607 words of Anders/Fenris for @dadrunkwriting. This is set in the same continuity as the most recent three fills I've written for this pairing (Part 1 - NSFW, Part 2 - NSFW, Part 3 - SFW). CW: explicit sexual content.

-

Anders became aware of his feelings for Fenris following the first time they slept together. He repressed and acknowledged them again at periodic intervals, though not to Fenris, as he knew Fenris couldn’t reciprocate. It hurt, but the hurt made sense, and it fueled his determination to prove himself and his cause. By the time Fenris lost any willingness to entertain him, Anders was too occupied with Justice to care. 

Fenris, in contrast, remained oblivious until several years after leaving Kirkwall. There was no special drama to this insight; he just woke up one morning and understood that he had loved the pitiful, dangerous mage he had also hated. Little turmoil was involved. At this point he saw nothing to be done about it, as Anders had fled long ago and was most likely mad, consumed by his demon, or dead. 

If Anders had expected to see Fenris again, it would have been for Fenris to kill him. This was also how Fenris had expected to see Anders again, if ever. But then Merrill found Anders; Isabela and a letter from Varric found Fenris; and Hawke’s scattered companions found themselves assembled for her benefit once more, for a last impossible scheme at the edge of the abyss. 

-

There were a great many ancient ruins in the Western Approach, some of which had not yet been taken by the Inquisition. One such ruin hosted their small party.

Outside, a sandstorm raged. The sky was dark. Among the cool innards of the ruin, in a stale-smelling room whose walls bent the dim light oddly, on a pile of dusty blankets—

Anders was thinner than he had been, with graying hair, a bad leg, and a quieter passenger. He made use of a cane now. He was less easy to arouse. But he was as eager to touch Fenris as ever, and restless under him. He grabbed at Fenris’s hips and ass, pawed over his sides and back, pulled his face down to groan into and kiss. 

“You feel,” Anders gasped against Fenris’s chin, then lost his train of thought. “You feel so. Fenris, I thought I’d never—”

What he thought was again cut off as he bucked upwards, trying to get his tongue and his cock as deep into Fenris as possible. Fenris met him in it, shoved a hand in his hair and cradled the back of his head, angling his face up so he could swallow his moans.

When his mouth was free, Anders was chanting something incomprehensible under his breath, interrupted whenever Fenris ground down or kissed him. He seemed unable to decide between keeping his eyes open or squeezing them shut. 

When he opened his eyes and saw that Fenris was jacking himself, he made a frantic noise and dug his fingers into Fenris’s hips to slow them. “Please, at least once, I want you to come.”

“Make me come, then,” said Fenris, stroking leisurely, and felt him shudder hard. 

After it was over he slumped on top of Anders and tucked his cheek next to his. Arms came around him, and a sigh rustled his hair. 

The preparations for locating Hawke would commence at nightfall. It was possible that this was the last time they’d have together, these few hours before. 

Fenris was sweaty and uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to move. Anders seemed to be of similar mind.

“If you did it right now,” said Anders dazedly, “I wouldn’t even feel it. That’s how good I feel.” 

“I’m not going to take your heart out,” said Fenris.

“Mm. You already—” 

Fenris kissed him so that he didn’t have to hear it. He knew.

[ainarosewood]

Mysteries and Discoveries

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​

FFxivWrite2022 Day 25 Prompt Free Write

The Elementals seemed to be in uproar and Aina frowned.  Their calamitous feelings were washing over her causing her to gasp in shock. The young White Mage took a deep breath, calmed herself and focused on finding the source.  It did not take long for her to get the impression it was coming from somewhere midway in Central Shroud.

Her destination found, she strode out Blue Badger gate and stopped at the city’s chocobo stables.  The Midlander whistled low and heard a responding kweh.  Shortly after her chocobo Apple came trotting up to her and buried his head into her chest.  She gave him a couple of scratches then swung astride directing him in the direction she sensed the disturbance that had the Elementals so agitated.

It wasn’t hard to find even without her senses. The first clue was groups of Qiqirn clustered together, the poor beastmen chattering in fear.  She only had to look toward their old encampment to see what was the source of their agitation.  There was a huge clear looking bubble that shimmered with multiple hues.  When she went to ride forward Apple Kwehed in alarm and bucked, catching her off guard and throwing her from the saddle.  He then turned tail and ran something she had never seen the bird do in the entire time she had known him.

As she pushed herself to her feet the bubble suddenly changed as a crack appeared in the sky.  It went from rainbow hues to dark pulsing and swirling purples and blues.  Carefully she approached keeping herself at what appeared to be the edge.  Upon the change the Elementals all but screamed in her senses as terrified of the bubble as the Quiqrin and Apple seemed to be.

Then as suddenly as it appeared the bubble vanished, cautiously Aina moved forward to see what effect it may have had on the forest.  It didn’t take her long; it seemed that area was none the worse for wear despite the odd bubble save for a plethora of strange marks from what appeared to be various forms of magic.  Though she couldn’t be certain that magic was the cause since there didn’t seem to be any aetherial residue.  Aside from that there was only a strange egg that sat in a bit of the underbrush.

The Midlander picked it up knowing full well that if left there the Qiqrin would most likely make a meal out of it.  And she felt whatever creature was in it didn’t deserve that fate.  It was roughly the size of a dodo with a white shell bespeckled with orange dots.  It felt warm to the touch and Aina knew she should probably keep it that way so it was safe.  Tucking it against her she left the encampment so the beastmen could return home if they were so inclined.  

Once a safe distance from the egg eating Qiqrin she went about making a makeshift carry pouch for the egg and lined it with soft grasses.  Unsure of what else to do since she had no idea what sort of creature it was or even if it was a viable egg she slung it over her shoulder and went to find her run away chocobo.  Finding the bird proved a lot harder than she expected and she was genuinely surprised.  Apple had proved to be a loyal protector and defender for a very long time.  Something definitely had to be dangerous about that bubble or he wouldn’t have abandoned her like that.

Good thing I decided to stay outside of it and judging by the marks left from the myriad of spells used there had been some sort of battle raging within.  If it was spells.  She thought to herself yet again baffled by the fact that there had been not a wisp of aetherial residue but there had been overt elemental damage all around shards of ice in one spot, torn up earth in another, signs of fire and lightning use as well.

All in all it was very strange and something that alarmed the Elementals a great deal.  But having seen it once she knew what to look for should it happen again.  She had been walking for a great deal when suddenly she heard a strange sound looking round and she didn’t see any creature that made it.  When she heard it again she realized it was coming from the carry pouch.  

Stopping, she carefully unslung it and opened it up to see the egg jiggling like crazy.  Adjusting the pouch to make a semblance of a nest.  She then sat down next to it hoping that she could find it something to eat once it hatched.  She had no idea what to expect from the egg. Given the hardness of the egg she suspected it was some kind of bird or maybe potentially drachen in nature.  But given that it appeared from a strange crack in the sky it might not be at all what she expected and she hoped that she would have something appropriate for it to eat.

The egg shook and bounced and the clear sounds of cracking were heard along with a strange noise that sounded like a growl.  Then it split open and there seemed to be a bright glow for a moment then there in the pouch was certainly not what she expected from an egg.

It appeared to be a wolf or some kind of canine,  its gray and black  fur still damp from the egg.  Blearily it blinked with eyes that appeared to be yellow with red pupils.  It had a pair of fangs that appeared to jut out from the lower jaw.  Carefully she reached out to it and gently picked it up using her robe to wipe away some of the egg residue.  Once it could see it wagged its tail happily and gave that strange growling cry again. 

“Hello there little one, I bet your hungry, give me a moment and I’ll find you something,” she told it shifting it into one arm and clearing the damp grasses out of the carry pouch she then gathered swiftly more to line the bag and placed the little pup in it who gave a whine even as its stomach growled.

She then drew her cane and dispatched a few of the nearby squirrels judging it by its teeth to be a carnivore.  Once she gathered what she thought might be enough. She swiftly skinned them and then let the pup out of the bag who was eagerly trying to get to the fresh meat.  After it ate its fill it fell asleep and the Midlander used that opportunity to examine the pup more.  I

She discovered that it was a male pup and that it resembled a wolf the most in appearance.  Although it overtly was no known species she knew.  Then again it came from the bubble so it stood to reason he wouldn’t be like any known animal.  All and all she suspected from the cursory look over that he should be fine sustained by little forest animals.  As she sensed out to him with her aethric senses she realized that she could feel no aether coming from him.  But overtly he was alive.

“Hmm maybe where he is from there isn’t any aether but some other thing that I can’t sense.” she murmured unable to help herself by keeping the sleeping pup in her lap.  No matter what he was, he was adorable and seemed to like her from their brief interaction.  So she decided she would keep taking care of him.  Carefully she adjusted him so she could stand and slip him back in the carry pouch.  After all she still had to find where Apple had gotten to and she couldn’t do that cuddling a sleeping pup in the middle of the forest.

[xenia-cenia]

Diluc X Fem!Reader - My Hero

Trigger/Content Warnings: Violence, fighting, kidnapping, drugging

Word count: 1,657

Request: No

Summary: You always thought between the two of you, Diluc would be the one who needed protection. How wrong you were.

-------------------------------------------

You were an enigma.

Not a Vision in your possession, yet not a single knight could beat you in combat. You didn’t use gifts from the gods to strike fear into your enemies, you need only smile and watch them shake in the knees.

Maybe that’s why Diluc fell in love with you. 

He would watch your confidence as you twirled the dull sword in your hands, your Visioned opponent nervously laughing. Within moments, they would be on the ground and you’d be kneeling over them offering a hand to help them stand. 

Diluc watched from afar as you taught Ellin how to wield a sword or how you charged into battle with thrill gleaming in your eyes. After every battle or long day, you’d walk into Dawn Winery and smile. A genuine smile, a smile Diluc wasn’t quite used to.

“Water again?” He’d chuckle as you sat and sigh heavily, setting down the glass he was cleaning.

“Yes, please.”

“What was it today?” Diluc poured the water and handed it to you.

“5 hilichurl camps, 2 abyss mages, 6 ruin guards.” You spoke after finishing the drink in one go.

“We always have a spare room for you at the manor.” He looked at your exhausted form and quickly turned around to conceal the concern that he knew was beginning to scar his expression.

“Careful, Luc, you might give off the wrong idea.” You wiped the water from your lips and sat your head onto the bar.

Diluc turned around and smiled gingerly as you stifled a yawn, “I can call for a carriage. I believe your room is already cleaned, Adelinde should have drawn a bath by now.” 

Within minutes you had succumbed to sleep, Diluc took his coat off and draped it over your shoulders, and told every patron of the bar to go home, they were closing early. After their initial protests, the drunks stumbled away. Diluc waited for the door to shut before he sat on the stool next to yours and slightly lifted your head to put his arm under - he didn’t want the Hero of Mondstadt to wake up with a sore neck after all. 

Even after his arm grew tired, he stayed put. Diluc eventually felt his eyes fall shut and his head drooped.

Outside, the sounds of a stopping carriage came into earshot. There were 3 harsh knocks on the door, Diluc stirred but even the loud knocks weren’t enough to wake him.

The door slowly creaked open, soft voices filled the room. Two sets of footsteps echoed and stopped right in front of Diluc.

“...him?”

“We can’t have witnesses.” 

Dilucs eyes opened as he felt a soft finger pull his lips open, he felt a warm liquid slip down his throat, he tried to look at his attackers but his vision was blurry. He tried to stand and swing at his attackers but instead collapsed on the ground. 

He watched in fear as they roughly gripped your face and poured the remnants of the liquid down your throat. From the floor, Diluc raised his hand in protest as they dragged you from the bar before his vision blinked and faded.

You didn’t know where you were or why you were there. 

It was dark, you could hear talking, and the rough bouncing of what you’re pretty sure is a carriage quickly made you nauseous. You tried to look at your surroundings, but all you caught was a glimpse of orange hair before you fell unconscious once more.

When you had really woken up, your hands were tied behind your back and were tied to something freezing and your throat burned. Cold air brushed against your face and you were sitting on wet ground.

A pale finger tilted your head up, a light gray eye met yours. “Oh? Are you awake?”

“Wha...?” You tried to speak but your voice was hoarse.

The woman smiled coldly at you, “Hush, now. You need only listen.”

You looked around and saw an orange-haired man absentmindedly plucking at the string of a bow. You were somewhere dark, the only light was from the quickly dimming torches on the walls, the air was moist and uncomfortable. 

Where were you? Where was Diluc? What happened? 

“Do you know what a Vision is?” The woman cut herself off with a small laugh, “Oh, of course you do, Hero of Mondstadt. Visionless Goddess of the people.” 

“Goddess?” The orange-haired man stifled a laugh.

“Childe.” 

“Ah, sorry, sorry.” He raised his hands in defeat, a smile still sitting on his lips.

You looked between the two people, “W-Who are you?”

They exchanged looks before the woman kneeled before you and smiled, “Dawn Winery.”

“W...”

“Dawn Winery holds the true power in Mondstadt. Their god is a drunken fool; their people bow to the pleasure. And you?” She grabbed your cheeks and turned your head left and right, “You, my dear, are the weakness. Diluc Ragnvindr is to blame for what is to come. You became the only option we can exploit, his only blind spot.”

The orange-haired man stood and walked towards you with long, confident steps, a spear of water materializing in his hands, “So, you can’t get mad at me for doing my job.”

When Dilucs eyes opened he was lying in a bed. 

He could smell dust and bandages. Hushed whispers hurried footsteps and distant prayers rang in his ears. 

He sat up, wincing at the burning pain in his chest, and tried to sort his thoughts out. “A... Adelinde?” He called.

Each voice fell silent and before he could even process what happened he was surrounded by nuns who overwhelmed him with their concerns. Diluc grit his teeth and pushed himself out of the hospital bed, despite the nun's protests. 

“Master Diluc, you can’t-”

“(Y/N).”

“What?”

“Where is she?” Diluc stumbled out of the room, checking every bed for his lover. A blonde-haired nun with pigtails lightly grabbed his arm and smiled pleasantly at him.

“Please go back to bed. I’m sure she’s fine.”

Diluc shoved her off of him and tried to contain the fear inside of him, “Where is she? What happened to me?”

The nuns exchanged uncomfortable looks before a quiet voice in the back piped up, “We don’t know.”

Dilucs eyes widened. Emotions and memories collided inside of the boy, he took a step backward and tried to ignore the reality that stared him in the eyes.

The reality where you were gone.

He ran out of the church, barely feeling the pain that had knocked him out a few mere hours ago, and straight into his bar. Patrons whispered rumors of the missing Hero, shooting glances to Dilucs coat that was folded on the edge of the bar, but that all ceased as the door slammed open and the red-haired owner stood in the doorway panting.

“Master Diluc!” The bartender exclaimed. Diluc ignored them and stepped forward, grabbing his coat off the counter and adjusting the cuffs before he left without a word. 

4 hours.

4 hours was all it took for Diluc to change his clothes, ready his weapon and find you. He broke into the cave where all of his sources pointed too, and charged in; fire in his eyes.

Few get to see Diluc truly angry. Even fewer get to see Diluc cry. The three people waiting for him inside got to see both.

He couldn’t stop the tears from boiling in his eyes as he saw you trembling, blood covering your body, and the way your eyes met his and he got to see something he thought the Hero of Mondstadt never felt: fear. 

“Run.” You had spoken with dry lips and stained eyes. “Run.”

And just like that, the torches on the wall exhausted themselves.

You tried to see what happened during the fight but could only see through the flickers of flame that roared off Dilucs blade that occasionally bit through the darkness. 

Yelling, blades clashing and the smell of blood. Once upon a time this invigorated you, caused you to leap into bursts of adrenaline and action. With only your life on the line, you felt battle was the only place you could feel free.

Flames licked the cave walls and evaporated your tears the moment they spilled over; you were terrified. How would you explain to Kaeya or the knights if Diluc gets hurt?

How could the Hero of Mondstadt herself fall short? How could she sit idly by as a victim as a battle rages in front of her?

You could never forgive yourself, you decided. 

“STOP!” You screamed, “Please! Don’t hurt him!”

“(Y/N)... open your eyes.” 

You gasped and looked up as a gloved hand lightly held your cheek, you were never happier to see Dilucs kind gaze. 

“Diluc,” you leaned into his grasp, “W-what happened?”

Diluc held his ablaze sword and showed off the empty room, “I’m not really sure. They both just... disappeared.” 

You smiled as much as you could, “T...thank you.”

He walked around the piece of rock you were tied to and undid the knot, “Let’s just get you home.”

“Home...” you repeated, “home sounds nice.” 

Diluc slowly picked you up, and felt his body heat up as you wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, he quietly walked out of the cave and made a silent vow to himself.

For as long as he lives, he’ll always be there to wipe the tears off your cheeks or mend your wounds.

Diluc wiped a stray strand of hair out of your eyes and thought about your kidnappers. Surely, they attacked this way on purpose. They waited for a moment of weakness and caused a greater divide because they knew how formidable a foe you were. 

Diluc smiled to himself. His lover was second to none in combat; she wore scars like a badge of honor. 

She truly was his hero.

[the-writing-trash-panda]

Fairy Tail Rare Pairs Week 2022

Day 1: Dream

Mest looked around at his surroundings, his eyes landing on his partner and best friend. He had relived this day several times now and knew how it always ended, the Magic Council headquarters would explode, he would try to save Lahar, only to fail and then wake up. He would never forgive Tartaros for what they had done, not only to the Fairy Tail guild but also to the Magic Council. Just as he suspected the explosion happened and everyone died but him, and as always he woke up right after.

Mest sat in bed, his head in his hands as he tried not to scream in anger. Even after a whole two years he still couldn’t move past this, let alone get over his feelings for Lahar. He had been in love with him for several years now, but he never got to confess. Although as he thought about it he concluded that it was for the best, after all the Mest that Lahar knew and trusted was not Mest, but Doranbolt. He was about to try and go back to sleep when he remembered something Wendy had told him.

~Flashback~

Mest sat at the bar watching the chaos of the guild and praying he wouldn’t become the victim of Ezra’s rage. Beside him sat Wendy, a very noisy Wendy at that. She had been trying to figure out if Mest liked anyone, saying she was worried that he would be lonely for the rest of his life. In Mest’s opinion, Mira had bribed the young girl into retrieving this information, something she wouldn’t be ashamed to do again.

“Come on, there has to be someone,” Wendy sighed, taking a bite out of her giant piece of cake, the item which Mira had used for the bribe.

Looking over at the sky mage, Mest let out a sigh of exasperation and decided to give her some information, he wouldn’t say who though. “There was someone, in fact, we were very close, but they are dead now and I can’t tell them how I feel.”

Wendy seemed to take this time to think or maybe she was just chewing, either way, the silence was starting to freak out the older mage.

“Well, I think they can still hear you even after death, whoever it was. I still talk to Grandine every day.” Wendy finally said, giving Mest one of the biggest smiles he had ever seen.

~End of Flashback~

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this, I hope you’re happy Wendy!” Mest shouted to himself. Throwing on a shirt and some shoes, Mest left his house and walked to the train station.

It didn’t take long for the train to arrive in Era and for Mest to get to the graveyard. Standing in front of where Lahar lay, Mest started to feel like this wasn’t a good idea. The only thing that kept him there was the fact that the next train for Magnolia didn’t leave until after lunch. Sitting down, Mest read the tombstone trying not to cry.

Lahar, captain of the Rune Knights

A good leader and friend

“You really were. I don’t know why I’m doing this, maybe I actually think there’s truth to what Wendy said. Anyway, it’s me, Mest, although I guess you know me as Doranbolt. There’s a lot you didn’t know about me, for starters, I’m actually a member of Fairy Tail. That doesn’t change how I felt about you, you were my best friend and maybe I had wanted you to be more, but that can’t happen now.” By this point, the tears that he had been holding back for so long were freely falling and he didn’t care, he had every right to be this upset, the man he loved was dead and the only way they could be together now was in dreams.

[slightlycrunchy]

pre-slash geraskier, angst with happy ending, whump, bodyswap, hc

1800 words

Enjoy!

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

“Dammit Jaskier, did you really have to call her that—“

Geralt stops mid-sentence, hand flying up to his own throat to stop the sound that has come from his mouth. He’s panting slightly, the witch having thrown them through a shoddy excuse for a portal into some endless partition of wilderness.

It looks like Velen. He’s sure it’s Velen.

His fingers crawl up his throat to his face, feeling slight stubble instead of the beard Geralt has grown over their weeks on the Path, which blankets a thinner face than Geralt is accustomed to. He looks down, expecting to see leather armor covering black cloth, the straps that cross his chest to hold his swords at his back, only to see silk; red, and gleaming with gold stitching across his torso.

Jaskier’s favorite.

He curses inwardly, kicks himself mentally for bringing the damn bard along. Of course he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, of course just as Geralt had finished his business with her and was accepting payment the foppish dandy had to go run his mouth.

“My dear, I thought witches could keep themselves young forever, and well, I think we can all see that maybe you aren’t as powerful as you try to appear—“

The bard had got no further than that. Witches and mages have notoriously short tempers and Jaskier knows this—and yet, here they are.

Thrown away like refuse and trapped in each others’ bodies.

Geralt can feel the snarl on his lips and it feels entirely wrong, the shape of his mouth pulling where usually it would not. He feels small and light, where usually the bulk of his own muscle would weigh him down at every turn, and as he lifts his hand to marvel at the foreign sensations, he gapes at his long and slender fingers.

Geralt has always felt…something about Jaskier’s hands, something he struggles to name. Sometimes he thinks it admiration—for their ability and their elegance. Where Geralt’s are toughened by hard labor and age, Jaskier’s have always been the complete opposite.

Geralt has held them, a time or two, and the almost feminine quality to them is a novelty. He looks at them now, controlling them as he clenches and spreads them, flipping them over to see unblemished skin and pale knuckles. He’s so engrossed for a moment that the rest isn’t noticed immediately.

Silence.

Pure, blessed silence.

It surrounds him, like a cocoon, like thick wool wrapped up to his ears in softness and calm. Geralt has lost his age—he stopped caring decades ago, after all, the information does him no good—but he knows he’s over a century by now, and yet he can’t remember the last time he felt like this. A time when every snap of a twig or breath of the people around him could be heard and analyzed for danger. Hypervigilance. Always, always Geralt is ready. For his next fight, his next job, the next time he must defend himself from the world that dislikes him for no good reason. His time before the trials is blurry at best, forgotten at worst, and he decides right now that this is the most peace he’s ever felt.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

“Ger-Geralt,” Jaskier gasps as he falls to his knees inside a witcher’s body.

It’s strange hearing his own voice sound so vulnerable, broken, breathy and quiet as he rushes to Jaskier’s side while the bard’s chest—his own chest—rises and falls rapidly. The comfortable silence inside his mind is restless now; Jaskier’s suffering is loud and insistent in an intangible way. It always has been.

“It burns Geralt—“ Jaskier bites out between clenched teeth, canines long and conspicuous. It’s strange seeing his own body like this, housing Jaskier’s soul, his very being. It clenches something in Geralt’s chest that he has not time to name.

“Jaskier, what is it? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Had the witch done something else to him? In her anger had she cursed the bard, hurt him in some other way? He can’t smell blood—but then again he wouldn’t be able to now, would he?

Jaskier’s body is heaving, on his knees and doubled over like some wounded thing. Geralt can see tears fall and hit the dirt, nails scrabbling for purchase at Geralt’s borrowed forearm, nearly tearing at the thick fabric of Jaskier’s frivolous doublet.

“My head, it’s exploding— It’s too much— How do you…” Jaskier starts and stops and slowly, in horror, the reality washes over Geralt.

While Geralt enjoys his first peace in an era, Jaskier has been dropped into a pit of torture.

Immediately Geralt places slender hands over Jaskier’s ears, attempting to muffle the onslaught of sensation that he must feel. Every sound, every vibration must be pounding at Jaskier’s head, wave after wave of movement, life, the earth shoving its way into Jaskier’s consciousness.

Jaskier’s golden eyes connect with Geralt’s borrowed blue, wide and wet, before he promptly turns and vomits onto the ground.

“Jaskier, I’m sorry, I’m sorry just—hold on.”

He doesn’t know what to do. They’re an unknown distance from the one who caused this—from relief—and yet Jaskier can hardly handle minutes of this. Jaskier chokes and spits, his entire body trembling under Geralt’s palms and the witcher can do nothing but stroke gentle thumbs over wet cheeks. It hurts him when Jaskier rises again, looking with pained eyes at Geralt. He doesn’t speak, Geralt isn’t sure if he really can, yet his eyes plead with Geralt to end it, please I can’t take it.

Geralt doesn’t know how he understands these words without hearing them, but they only drive the stake further into his heart.

Jaskier is suffering, and it’s Geralt’s fault.

He can remember, now especially, how those first weeks had been at Kaer Morhen after the trials were complete. Utter agony and sleepless nights as he withered away with the inability to keep anything down. Sound, feeling, pain overwhelming him constantly until his body could adjust. He remembers the fevers, Vesemir by his bedside with cool cloths and the kindest words he could remember hearing in recent memory.

He thought he would die.

“End it, please I don’t want to do this anymore—“

But he had survived…and somewhere along the way he had forgotten the beginning, the mutagens running through his veins like fire and adding to the never ending harshness of his new life. Now, however, he remembers in startling clarity.

Jaskier won’t survive this.

Geralt brings Jaskier to his smaller chest, forcing one ear against his rabbiting, human heart all while holding his hand closed over the other—acting as a beacon, a point of focus for Jaskier’s hearing that takes in everything around them. It won’t fix anything, but Geralt hopes it will help. Jaskier shivers, his breaths stuttered and sick, gasps taken between chattering teeth. Geralt knows his real body will be fine, it hasn’t stopped being a witcher’s after all, no matter who holds the reins, but Jaskier’s mind…humans were not built for this. They are fragile, temporary things.

Geralt feels panic bubble up within him and it is a sensation he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Geralt feels fear, contrary to popular belief, though not for himself. He has felt fear on behalf of others many times, but it is dull, manageable. He can easily breathe through it and tackle the situation at hand, the slow beat of his heart keeping the adrenaline from flooding his veins. But Jaskier’s body is mortal and weak in this regard, and he feels it slam into him, sharp and all encompassing as his stomach lurches when the bard falters beneath his palm, sagging with exhaustion so quickly that Geralt struggles to hold him up. Geralt’s borrowed muscles strain, but they hold; to be honest, Jaskier’s body is stronger than Geralt would have given him credit for.

He tightens his hold on the bard, and a thought suddenly occurs to him.

“Jaskier, you’re going to be alright, I want you to listen to my voice.”

Jaskier’s voice has always been calming to Geralt, and so he does the only thing he can think of: he talks.

About what, he doesn’t know; he certainly doesn’t have the wherewithal to make a coherent storyline, but he babbles all the same. He speaks of Roach and his contracts, his brothers and his childhood—the good parts that he remembers and his early days on the Path.

All the while he runs hands through white strands, putting a pleasant (he hopes) pressure against Jaskier’s scalp. He remembers Eskel doing this for him in those early days; it helped. He hopes it helps now.

He doesn’t know how long they sit there awkwardly upon the ground, Geralt’s untrained legs falling numb as his knees begin to ache. The time doesn’t matter, only keeping the pain at bay, the war against Jaskier’s fragile mind as it rages and slashes at the door.

Eventually Jaskier’s stamina gives out, and he falls, but only so far. Geralt catches him, and after folding his legs out from beneath him with a grimace, lays his actual body against his borrowed one, Jaskier’s head falling to the side in his unconsciousness. All the while long, slender fingers never stop carding through white strands.

Geralt lets the panic ebb away, having come up with a plan some time ago while holding Jaskier so close they practically felt like one. Jaskier’s bag lays to Geralt’s right, just at arms length and inside he knows the xenovox is cradled between extra pairs of garish clothing. When Geralt had remembered, he had never been so happy that Jaskier tended to keep his things on him rather than tied up with Roach.

Roach. With a sigh Geralt realizes he needs to find her too. Another thing to take care of after the witch.

He won’t forgive her for what she’s done.

With ginger movements so as to not wake the sleeping bard on his lap, he grabs the bag and soon finds what he is looking for. He savors the moment of quiet that has descended in Jaskier’s sleep, letting the panic and fear that tastes bitter on his tongue disappear into a practiced ease.

Yennefer will be annoyed with him, and once Geralt has gotten over what has just happened, he in turn will be annoyed with Jaskier. The bard got them into this mess after all. But as he looks down on Jaskier, his own sleeping form—a shudder going through him at the wrongness of it all—he decides perhaps not.

The bard has gone through enough, after all.

A voice comes over the device, slightly muffled and crackling, “Geralt?”

“Yen.”

“The bard? What are you doing with this, this wasn’t for your use.”

“Yen, it’s Geralt.”

Silence rests between them for a moment, the only sound Geralt hears with his human ears being the rustling of wind through the trees around him. He tries to savor it.

She sighs. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

He smiles.

[yandere-sins]

There is a serious lack of the yandere dragon shifter content! (Especially the bakugou dragon shifter if you can...) So is it possible to have a rich like this where the reader is a mage or magician in search of ingredients and meet a dragon who becomes infuriated with her (or them if you are more comfortable)

You shall get what you ask for, if you want she-pronouns so be it there’s no being more or less comfortable about pronouns. The only time I need some more directions is if you want a gender neutral darling do the dirty with the yan, then it helps to know what to expect down below, you get it? Otherwise, if you want to request a female darling then be proud and request that. Also I am mostly writing x reader anyway, and for that it doesn’t really matter most of the time. Enjoy your scenario!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

You were no newbie to the forest. Ever since you were a child, you wandered the dark greens with your grandfather, and later on, with your teacher. Over all these years, you had grown into a respectable mage yourself, people came to your door for help, and you could summon the darkest threats there were; make them follow your instructions! But going into the forest on your own was a necessity, despite always presenting you with something unexpected.

The reason you had to go into the forest was simple: Your potions needed ingredients. Sure, you could have just magically made them appear in your laboratory, however, many did not know that ingredients that were made by magic had almost none of their substances needed for spells. It was easier to explain with self-grown plants in a garden; the one from the convenient market were good to eat, but those you harvested and collected yourself would always be better.

So you set out on your own. You didn’t have an apprentice in a while after the last one had an unfortunate accident with snake poison. Thus, it was on you to make sure your shelves were filled with everything you needed to make your potions and provide people with. To be honest, you found it quite pleasant to get out of your dark, filled-to-the-brim with junk and necessities home, scouting the thicket and breathing in the refreshing forest air.

Carefully you decided where to set your foot. You still remembered the few instances you accidentally ran into a fairy or almost got drowned by a mermaid while picking algae from the lake. Those things happened, but they were no pleasant occurrences, and you preferred to not run into them. However, with a calm mind, you wandered around, picking what you needed. Never more than you actually needed, making sure the forest would be able to reproduce it on their own. That was a law for magicians like you, and you were more than happy to follow it.

“Let’s see,” you mumbled as you brought up your notebook where you had written down the things needed for a very potent sleeping potion for one of your customers. You were almost done gathering everything, aside from one more flower which petals had a sweet smell, soothing even raging minds. As such, it most commonly grew in places where wild beasts lived, but much to your relief, this forest had long been abandoned by those, only leaving the occasional fairy or gnome behind.

There was no way you’d have a run-in with something worse like a werewolf or a dragon.

At least, you were quite sure of it until you managed to reach the clearing where the flower grew. You were so sure of it, you ignored the roaring snoring filling the air as you drew closer to the flower’s whereabouts, merrily humming a little song and focusing on your steps. That was, until you reached out for the flower, finally knowing how the earth around it... breathed.

You just stood there, not moving a muscle. There was no immediate sight of anything, but you knew it. You knew that beneath your feet, a monster laid, as big as the clearing itself, as dangerous as snake poison. The only ones possible of laying down in a field of flowers, resting for so long that their magical energy would make the flowers start growing around and on them, were dragons. Despite really not wanting this thought to be right, you knew that there was nothing in comparison.

For a mage like you were, it wasn’t anything to take on easily. Dragons were wild, untamable, and, most of the time, grumpy. The age, you assumed. They tended to be very territorial and get butt-hurt over every little thing... like you, picking one of their flowers. The worst, however, was that even if you retreated now if you were to be noticed, the dragon surely would hunt after you, and you’d lead it back to your little village.

So all that was left as an option was to retreat quietly and make sure you wouldn’t be noticed. For a moment, you got upset that you would have to find another, less convenient flower spot now or do the potion without it. For at least three years, no monster had closed in on that clearing, and yet, now that you needed the flower, you had run into such trouble retrieving it.

Backing away slowly, you walked a while backwards, eyeing the creature still hidden beneath the field of flowers. You were just about to spin around and make a dash for it, hide somewhere in the dark corners of the forest when your foot got caught ever so slightly. Nothing that made you lose your footing, but widened your eyes nonetheless, the shining silver of a claw revealing after you got stuck on it.

The next few moments happened fast, too fast for your human eyes. A flinch, then a growl, and suddenly, the earth broke loose as something erupted from beneath it, a tall, slim body, covered in scales and shining brilliantly in the sunlight.

For a moment, you were mesmerized by it, absolutely awestruck. Seeing a real dragon definitely was better than any portrait painter could put them on a canvas. You realized quickly that it wasn’t just wondering about the creature before you that kept you in place. More so, it was fear. Even when it’s snout came dangerously close to your face, you couldn’t turn and run away.

“Look at you, a smelly little human thief,” it snarked; the perks of being an intelligent creature was it’s ability to speak. “Did you think my flowers were free to take?”

“Where does it say those are yours? Can’t be helped if you sleep on them.” Perhaps, you should have tried a friendlier approach, but it wasn’t like this creature was full of manners either. Against your expectations, though, it only looked at you before suddenly erupting into deep, growling laughter. There was no way to discern if it was actually amused or if it was laughing to mock you, but you took your chance to turn and run, not waiting for a comeback.

“Where are you going?” you heard behind you as you reached the border of the clearing. That suddenly sweet and luring voice made something in you snap. Without thinking, you stopped to look back, the earth around the clearing still torn up, but instead of a dragon, a man stood at the clearing, arms wide open. “You got some nerves, fucking waking me to tell me the flowers aren’t mine and then run away without even taking any. Takes some guts. Here.”

Sweeping down, he picked up one of the few flowers that hadn’t been destroyed by his dragon form, holding it out to you. Aside from the way he spoke, everything suddenly was so tempting. You hadn’t noticed before that the dragon was a shifter, which automatically gave him natural sympathy from you as a human. Their dangerous skill that even a mage like you couldn’t deny.

They were terrible, and you knew it. Everyone told you about how bad shifters were, only ever turning into a human to do bad things. They naturally looked so much better than your average human, too beautiful, too perfect. Their voices were so lovely that they could lull you to sleep, and they emitted the feeling of security that many men and women sought after, making them perfect targets to be kidnapped and, in the worst case, bred or eaten.

But here you were, the little town mage who had never seen a shifter before. The flower in his hand was calling to you to take it back with you, and his voice lured you. Despite resisting, you did have the urge to throw yourself into his arms, like a good, willing target.

Instead, you kept eye contact, holding out your hand for the flower as you approached. His eyes were the only thing reminding you what a beast he was, wild and dangerous, fire burning in them like you could only see in dragons. Yes, you should have just left, but you felt like he actually... accepted your retort. As if it hadn’t been so bad to stand your ground, and that feeling made you confident. Confident that you could handle this situation.

When your finger finally reached around the stem of the flower, he let it go, and immediately, you felt something sharp and painful drill into your forearm. Shocked, you could watch long sharp claws catching a blood-red color as he dragged them down your arm, your body instinctively moving forward to stop the pain.

And that’s when he snapped for you, lifting you up from the ground as if your weight was a joke for him. Throwing you over his shoulder, you were confronted with the feeling of a strong arm pinning your legs to his chest. “Fuck, I hate humans like you. Always talking back, thinking they are in the right.” Giving your rear a rough slap, you yelped before trying to kick your legs unsuccessfully.

He began to move, his shoulder pushing into your stomach so harshly, you felt like throwing up. But before you could complain or say something, you had to watch as the ground before you slowly distanced itself from you, the peaks of the trees soon what came into view. Your still ‘okay’ arm, clutched desperately between the bleeding one and the shifter’s body, trying to find something to hold onto.

“What- Where! Let me down! How dare you!”

“Your really want to be let down now?” Pulling you forward, you landed on his hands under your arms, noticing how your legs struggled in the air without any halt. Finally, you could see his wings and slowly realized what was going on, gulping as you felt helpless in his grasp. “S-Stop this madness! Get me down on earth again!”

“No,” was his simple answer, your cheeks suddenly squishing against his chest as he tugged you in and wrapped you in his arms. Convenient to carry you, yet not helping your problem of feeling helpless. “Not until you learn how to properly behave, Human.”

“I’m not an ordinary human!” you complained, hearing a mocking, “Oh?” rumbling from his chest.

“I’m a mage--”

“And I am so scared. Mage’s are my favorite breakfast.”

A loud laugh erupted all around you, and this time you were sure he was mocking you. “How dare you, you are so rude!” Pounding your hands against his chest, he only laughed more. “That’s it, bare your teeth, little Mage. I love it when my food resists.”

That’s bad, you thought. That’s really, really bad. Magic wouldn’t help against a magical being as he was, and you looked down, seeing the forest, and then your village pass by as he dragged you off. Not like there was anyone who could have helped you in this situation.

“What’s your name, Mage?” he asked, ten minutes into you struggling against him with his arms never tiring. “Why would you want to know?!” you hissed back, and he grunted in response.

“My mother taught me to know the name of the things I put in my mouth; the fuck you care?!” Stretching out your neck, you tried to see his face, but his expression was denied to your gaze by his chin. All you could see were his ears. They seemed unusually red, but you hadn’t looked at them before to compare if that wasn’t normal for a red dragon.

“Just so you know, but the person eating you am I. Katsuki Bakugou. You better speak your last prayers now, Human. And make them good.”

“Well, to say it in your words: Fuck you, Dragon!” Being defiant had helped before. Maybe it would do it again, you hoped.

This time, the rumble in his chest was short as he laughed, different from the ones before. “You’re gonna be my favorite to crush,” he announced, the grip around you tightening until you gasped in pain. Your struggles ceased as you passed out while he carried you off to the no-mans-land that was his home.

He hated to admit it, but the tactic of his friend of simply laying in a bed of flowers and waiting had really paid off, and he was more than overjoyed to have caught someone like you. Having you keep his lair warm would be more than he expected from his endeavor. Katsuki simply loved a bit of a feistiness in the humans he captured, ensuring that you’d give him a good time playing with you before the end of your little togetherness would draw near.

He would make sure to enjoy every second of it.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

After-writing-comment: Well, this sounded better in my head than it turned out to be. Maybe I will rewrite it sometimes from his POV but we’ll see. It’s 2k words long so it would be a shame to just trash it, so I decided on posting it anyway. Sorry if it isn’t what you had in mind either anon!

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

Magic in a Time of Need

Okay so I received this request from @empress-writes, and I’m honestly very excited to write it! I haven’t written for Thranduil or anything related to The Hobbit, so this should be an interesting experience. Flashbacks are in italics. As always gif and characters are not mine. Hope you enjoy it!

Description: Y/N is the most skilled mage in Middle Earth, and has chosen to help the Dwarves reclaim their homeland. When Y/N and the dwarves are caught by the king of Mirkwood, the tension of Y/N and Thranduil’s past arises

Warnings: a little bit of sexual tension, references to past smut, mentions of blood. If I miss any please tell me!

Y/N, one of the most well known mages in all of Middle Earth, was stuck in a prison cell with their comrades. Of course, they didn’t mind that they were in this predicament. It was merely a small wrinkle in their journey with the Dwarves of Erebor, and Y/N wouldn’t have changed anything.

Y/N was recruited by Gandalf the Grey at the very beginning of the quest to reclaim the mountain, and Y/N accepted in an instant. They knew Thorin from when he was younger, and got along with all of the other Dwarfs, who saw Y/N as a sister. Y/N understood what it was like to lose a home, and they wouldn’t let the company fall to that same fate.

Of course, now there quest had come to a halt. All of the Dwarves sat in their cells. Some were angry, while others had simply given up. “Come on, we can’t let this small inconvenience dampen our spirits,” Y/N stated as they leaned against the cool metallic bars. “I know the strength that is within all of you. We will get through this.”

“I hope you are right, dear mage, but with Bilbo missing and Thorin unwilling to cooperate, our luck seems to have run out,” Balin replied. Y/N could understand Thorin’s anger towards the Elven king. He had abandoned the Dwarves like a coward when they needed him, and that was one of the many reason why Y/N decided to join the dwarves.

Fili kicked the door of his cell and let out a scream of frustration. “Can you not use magic to break these blasted bars? Surely that is possible!”

“No, it’s not possible,” Y/N retorted. “My cell is marked with enchantments that prevent me from using magic. Funny, they take the time to make something like this, but they don’t take time to save the innocent.”

The Dwarves all voiced their agreement. After a few minutes, an elf appeared in front of Y/N’s cell. They recognized him from the first time they had came to Mirkwood. Y/N smirked at him. “Nirornor, it’s been a long time. I can see that your still working for blondie. How’s that going for you?”

Nirornor’s face remained stoic. “It’s going well. Not that you would know, mage. Thranduil is requesting your presence.”

“Hm, I can see your still stoic as ever my pointy-eared friend. Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Nirornor mumbled under his breath, something about idiotic humans. Y/N knew better though, for they had spent much time with him while they were in Mirkwood last. Deep down Nirornor wasn’t as uptight as he was now, but Y/N figured that he had to keep up appearances.

Nirornor escorted Y/N into the throne room, and they started the climb up the winding stairs leading to the throne. Y/N tried to rub their wrists, but it was much more difficult with the enchanted handcuffs that were placed around them. Gods, did Thranduil not trust them at all? Well, after what they did, he was probably still angry.

Finally, the two reached the top of the stairs. The king of Mirkwood himself was stretched over his throne, his boot-clad feet dangling over the arms of the throne. Thranduil wasn’t looking at either of them as he pretended to be lost in thought. “You may leave us, Nirornor,” Thranduil said with a wave of his hand.

Nirornor bowed to the king and journeyed back down the stairs. The tension in the air was thick, and Y/N began to shift on their feet. Thranduil simply chuckled at them. “How do those cuffs feel, melethel? I had them specially made for your return.”

“Don’t call me that, and if I’m being honest, these cuffs are a pain,” Y/N growled at the blonde Elf.

“Oh come now, don’t be so aggressive. You didn’t complain about my nickname for you the last time we were together. Don’t tell me you have forgotten?”

Thranduil was right, Y/N couldn’t forget about that night, or the first time they had met. It was several years ago, when Y/N was a mere apprentice. Some of the older mages were called to Mirkwood to help the king, and decided that Y/N should come too.

“Don’t you fret, my dear. Everything will be fine, and I think you’ll find Mirkwood to be quite enjoyable.”

Ealdthard, the head mage of Artevor, a school of magic located near the Blue Mountains, turned in his saddle to check on his apprentice. Y/N was looking around at the massive trees and how their leaves danced in the slight wind. “I think you are right, Ealdthard. However, I’ve heard rumors about the king. Is he really as nasty as they say?”

“Well, all my dealings with him have been pleasant. He may not always be fond of other races, but he admires our magical skills.”

Y/N nodded their head. Surely if Ealdthard liked him, they would too. They approached the front gate of Mirkwood, and a tall, brunette elf approached them. “Alatulya, mages of Artevor. The servants will take care of your horses, and I will escort you inside. My name is Nirornor, and I am an aid to the king.”

The two mages followed Nirornor into the throne room, and upon reaching the throne, Y/N let out a quiet gasp. They never expected the Elven king to be so beautiful. Y/N knew that Elves were often picturesque, but they assumed this king would be old and scraggly. Boy were they wrong. His locks reflected in the light of the room, and his skin appeared to be softer than velvet. Thranduil’s ocean colored eyes stared directly into Y/N’s, and Y/N could have swore that they darkened ever so slightly.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ealdthard. Who is this beautiful person that you have brought with you,” Thranduil asked as he approached the two.

“This is Y/N, my apprentice. I thought it would be good for them to travel to new places and experience new things before they leave my side to travel alone,” Ealdthard responded.

“That’s very wise of you, and I hope that you enjoy your stay here, Y/N. I am Thranduil, the king of Mirkwood.” he leaned down and left a gently kiss on Y/N’s hand, and Y/N blushed at the action.

“Ealdthard and I have some business to attend to, but I do hope to see you at dinner,” Thranduil added as he started to walk away with Ealdthard.

“I will be there, your highness,” Y/N answered with a bow.

“Please, call me Thranduil.”

Y/N later learned the reason why they were summoned to Mirkwood that year. Thranduil wanted help with learning more enchantments to hide his face, which had been touched by dragon fire. At first Y/N had felt pity for him, but his future actions filled them with rage.

“Whatever proposition you have, I want nothing of it,” Y/N snarled.

Thranduil glared back at her. “You haven’t even heard what it is. Stay with me, Y/N. Be my queen and a powerful mage at my side.”

“So, I’m just going to be a tool then?! Never! I am loyal to the dwarves, and they are more courageous than you’ll ever be!”

Thranduil crossed the room in a flash, and his hand harshly grasped Y/N’s chin. He forced Y/N to look into his eyes. Anger was flowing off of the two of them, and a mix of something else was also present. Thranduil’s lips were inches from Y/N’s. “Don’t you ever mention those dwarves around me. They could never give you what I have given you.”

That evening, Thranduil had hosted a huge feast to welcome his guests. After they had filled themselves with a wide array of dishes, a bard began to be lay music in the corner. The peppy tune caused the Elves to rise to their feet, and they all began to dance. Y/N, dressed in a fancy outift, sipped wine from their chalice. Thranduil approached them, and offered a hand to them. “May I have this dance, Y/N?”

Y/N accepted. Thranduil and Y/N spun around the dance floor in graceful movements. Both of them were laughing. Y/N was finally starting to believe that Thranduil wasn’t as harsh as they had originally thought. “You’re an amazing dancer, Y/N,” Thranduil commented as his eyes sparkled with adoration. Thranduil knew that he shouldn’t be falling for someone so quickly, let alone that person being a human, but he couldn’t help it. Y/N made him feel happy, and he hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

That night, Y/N stayed with Thranduil. As the moon travelled across the dark sky, Thranduil and Y/N were caught in the throes of passion, and afterwards their limbs remained tangled with one another until the early morning hours. Y/N woke to an empty bed.

A maid walked in, and Y/N tried to cover themselves with the fitted sheets. “Excuse me, do you know where Thranduil is,” Y/N asked the maid.

“Oh, he had to leave early this morning. A dragon has attacked Erebor, and the dwarves are requesting assistance. However, Thranduil has already made up his mind to not help them. A dragon is dangerous business,” the maid stated.

Y/N’s features flushed crimson from anger. If Thranduil wasn’t going to help those innocent Dwarves, then why did he even leave in the first place! Y/N quickly dressed and gathered their things, and before leaving they told Ealdthard the reason behind their abrupt exit. Y/N could not stand by and help a selfish king.

“If that is what you wish,” Ealdthard whispered, “then I will meet you back at Artevor. Travel safely, dear Y/N.”

And travel they did, all the way back to Artevor. They finished their apprenticeship, and travelled into the world as planned. Never once did did they think of Thranduil, except for the few nights when they woke up in a hot sweat from a dream they had about him and their time together. Y/N became the most powerful mage in Middle Earth. When the moment came that Y/N could help the dwarves, they joined with no hesitation. They would get back at Thranduil for doing what he was to scared to do.

When Thranduil returned and learned that Y/N had left, he grew angrier by the second. Tables were thrown, and Thranduil even pulled a sword against Nirornor. “Where did they go?! Why has Y/N left me,” Thranduil shouted in anguish and rage.

“They have gone back to Artevor. They said that they would not help such a selfish king,” Nirornor said.

“I swear, that if Y/N ever dares to return here, I will make them suffer! I will show them what happens when you cross an Elf!”

Little did Thranduil know that his time for revenge would eventually come, and now here his now enemy was, just an inch away from him.

“I may still love you deep down, Thranduil, but until you change your idiotic ways, I will never stay by your side,” Y/N declared.

Thranduil leaned in and roughly connected his lips with Y/N’s. His anger went straight into the kiss, and while Y/N wished they could return it, they shoved him away as best they could with cuffs on. Thranduil’s eyes flashed with fury, and he slowly backed away from them. “Take them back to the cells. I will wait an eternity if I have to in order to have you by my side, Y/N.”

As Y/N was dragged away from the king, they flung their head back in a roar of laughter. “Sorry, blondie! You’re going to have to wait longer than that!”

Y/N was right of course, for hours later Bilbo had freed them and the other dwarves, and they floated down the river in oak barrels. Their journey was back on track, but Y/N couldn’t shake the lingering feelings they had for Thranduil.

Nirornor approached Thranduil for the second time that day. This time he was wearing armor, and orc blood stained the side of his slim face. “Your highness, Y/N has escaped again.”

Thranduil simply smiled. “I know that they’ve escaped. Something tells me this won’t be the last time I will see that famous mage.”