#and meanwhile he's just thinking of when to find a nice patch of sunlight to lay down in

[eorzeashan]

Eight's big detriment is whenever he's in business mode/around unfamiliar people he wears the flattest expression ever and makes no effort to improve his 'image' as well as talking either very little or not at all, so this usually gives people the wrong impression...or they have to make an interpretation up for him because it's like looking at a wall.

[tiptapricot]

tipstie PLEASE tell me about tlb turning human/ human AU

Absolutely my dudes 👁👁 (this is also all hcs about how vampire rules work so just go with it)

So for me a human TLB AU isn’t one where they die and turn human, it’s one where Max is killed after being found out one way or another before any altercation with the boys happens, and they revert back to humans as a result

The reason this happens is because all the boys were sired by Max, and while they are technically full vampires, they aren’t independent vampires

Sires act as a sort of guardian to the vampires they turn, watching over them and guiding them until they believe they’re ready to take care of themselves

This is why they have a certain level of control, influence, and power over the vampires they turn, they have a bond

When sires think the vampires they’ve turned are ready to make it on their own, they sever that bond with a ritual that relinquishes complete autonomy to their vampires

But Max never did this

He wanted a family, and families have to stick together, so until his death he still clung to that small sliver of control over the boys, and that last step to complete and independent vampirism remained incomplete

And so, when Max is killed, there’s a sort of backlash, a glitch

The bond is broken, but broken wrong, and the small piece of the boys that’s still human, the piece that still remains deep down, starts clawing it’s way out

It hits Marko first, since was turned most recently, chills and fever and body wracking pain, like his body is eating itself from the inside out

It’s nothing like any of them have ever seen or heard of before, and they don’t know what to do but sit with him and try to lessen the fever

Paul follows a few hours later, exactly the same, and Dwayne helps David carry the two of them a little over halfway to the Emerson house before he collapses too

David gets them the rest of the way there, feeling worse and worse the longer he goes

He knocks on the door and Michael opens it, and David only manages a raspy “Need your help, Michael,” before he’s pitching forward into his arms

The next week or so is a blur

Michael convinces Lucy and Grandpa to help, and for Sam to keep the Frogs away while they figure out what’s going on

Star calls that night, and says she and Laddie were out when they felt themselves change back, and that she didn’t wait to find out why

She caught a bus to her cousin’s place in LA and took Laddie with her, but wanted to make sure Michael was ok

He says he’s fine, and promises to call again with more details, since “it’s a little hard to explain right now” and they hang up with plans to talk that weekend

Meanwhile the boys are going in and out of feverish half awake states, never lucid enough to do anything except drink water and groan. The Emersons take care of them in shifts, and Michael helps Grandpa research what might be happening to them. They don’t find a lot

Marko is the first to come out of it, after about three days

He’s groggy and confused, waking up to Lucy wiping his forehead with a damp towel

She gives him something to drink and helps him sit up, but there’s something... wrong

There’s a weight in his chest, a thrumming, heavy heartbeat, expanding lungs, heat

He’s breathing again, he’s alive again

He’s human

Paul wakes up in the middle of that night, to Michael in the room this time. After getting the general “you’re human but we don’t know why” pitch, he’s taken to a guest bedroom where he finds Marko curled up on the bed. He slides in behind him and pulls him close, and he knows Marko isn’t asleep because he can feel him shaking

Marko’s always been good at crying quietly

Paul’s pretty personable as they wait for David and Dwayne to wake up. He talks with the family and reads comics on the living room couch, and fetches food and stuff for Marko, who’s basically refusing to leave the guest room

Being back in a human body is bringing back too many memories for him of the shitty life he escaped from, and he’s having a hard time dealing with it

But Paul is there, and the Emersons are alright, and he’s eventually able to be coaxed out to have an actual meals with the family, and that’s nice too

Dwayne wakes up the Saturday after the boys first arrive, in one of the rare times no one was in the room to keep an eye on him and David

He interrupts breakfast by barreling into the living room looking extremely lost and worried, and shakily rushes over to pull Paul and Marko into a hug when he sees them staring wide eyed at him from the table

“Couldn’t hear you...” he mumbles into Marko’s hair. “Can’t hear either of you anymore...”

Lucy has him join them at the table and gets him his own plate of food, and they explain what they know. It still isn’t a lot, but it does give him a reason as to why the mental link the boys had is gone

The following days are strangely quiet. Michael and Lucy help the boys adjust, reminding them to eat and helping them when they forget they don’t have super strength or magic healing

The boys start talking more too, mostly out of necessity since they can’t communicate mentally anymore (which Marko thinks is extremely annoying) but also because life in the Emerson house is... surprisingly comfortable

Michael explains the whole thing to Star over the phone, and after a moment she laughs

“Maybe they needed this,” she tells him, “maybe this is good.”

A week and a half after the boys arrive, two things happen: David finally wakes up, and the Frogs find out who the mysterious house guests Sammy’s been keeping them away from are

David comes to in a dim room, with Michael dozing against the wall

He grunts and pushes himself up, and only just registers the heat of his own blood and the scratch of breathing in the back of his throat when there’s a commotion from somewhere outside

Michael wakes up with a slight flinch, rubbing a hand over his face, and makes eye contact with David right as the door slams open and Dwayne, Marko, and Paul come rushing in, followed quickly by the Frog brothers and a frantic Sam

It takes a bit of explaining, but they eventually come to an understanding

The Frogs are still a bit hesitant to believe the boys are human, but it’s not like real vampires could walk in the sunlight or show up in the hall mirror, so that’s good enough for them

The boys continue living with the Emersons after that

They find ways to help out here and there, with cleaning or dinner or dishes or farm work

Sleep schedules become basically non existent as well, and it’s a common occurrence to find at least one person up at all hours of the night

Each of the boys has... a moment or two, where it really settles in that they’re human again

For Marko, it’s when he pokes himself while trying to resew one of his patches. He hisses when he pricks his thumb, and when the blood beads up on the pad of his finger he just... stares at it. It doesn’t heal right away, and he can’t even smell it. He sucks on it to try and make it go away, and tasting blood again, when it no longer has the same rush or necessity, makes him cringe. He puts a band aid on it, and doesn’t mention it to anyone.

For Paul, it’s when he goes to a concert on the beach. He manages to get lost in the music, in the crowd, in the loud drums and the guitar riffs and the warm press of bodies and the intoxicating energy, and he doesn’t, not once, think about sinking his teeth into anyone around him. He only realizes about halfway through the second song that he’s actually hearing the music, too, instead of it just being the background noise for a cacophony of heartbeats. He goes home that night drunk on sound and life, and doesn’t know if he’s ever been happier in his life.

For Dwayne, it’s when he has his first cup of hot chocolate after turning back. It’s at the beginning of winter, and everyone is crammed together on the couch to break in the TV that Sam finally convinced Grandpa and Lucy to get. Michael and Sam are bickering about what movie to watch, Paul and Marko are having an animated conversation with the Frogs from their place on the floor, and Lucy and grandpa are laughing about something in the kitchen. They come out a bit later with snacks and drinks, and Dwayne is handed a big mug of cocoa with a heaping helping of whipped cream and marshmallows. He takes a sip without really thinking, and then stops. There’s a moment, when he just feels the warmth spread through his chest and belly, and then all at once it’s like he’s hit with this wave of emotions he can’t quite place, familiarity and relief and joy, and there are tears mixing with his whipped cream mustache. The movie is good, but the cocoa is definitely better.

For David, the first time is when he goes outside after waking up. He’d seen the sunlight through the windows, and knew it didn’t hurt him anymore, but feeling it, actually smelling the fresh air and hearing the birds and cicadas and feeling a warm breeze... it’s a little overwhelming. Michael finds him sitting on the back porch wiping at his eyes, and joins him

The second time is when he notices that his roots are showing, that his hair is growing again. Any cutting or dying was effectively permanent when he was a vampire, since their hair didn’t grow, but now... Getting a reminder that his body is living and changing again is strange. He decides to let it grow out a bit, just to see where it goes

The boys are very touchy with everyone. They were already before they turned back, but now that cuddles involve body heat, they happen much more often

So do visits to the mall, oddly enough. Lucy takes them once to get them some new clothes, and they have way too much fun popping in and out of different shops and all trying to fit in the photo booth at once. They may, technically, get banned from a few stores for causing too much of a ruckus, but that doesn’t stop them from coming back

Dwayne and David both get really into cooking, and Paul and Marko experiment a lot with mixing different things to “remember what tastes good” again. Usually doesn’t have the best outcomes, but they’re definitely adventurous

David forgets he has to sleep sometimes, but he’ll be out like a rock if anyone pulls him into bed or lets him lean on them while watching TV

Overall, adjusting is strange for all of them, but there’s a goodness to it too. Even when things are hard they figure them out eventually, and no matter what they always have each other

It feels like a new life, a new start, where they can finally get things right

Headcanons masterpost

[bnhayyy]

Caution and the Inverse

Wordcount: 2.6k

Ao3 Link: Click

Summary: Historia comes home to find that her girlfriend had a near-miss with a vampire slayer. Ymir is more concerned about the shirt she ruined.

Notes: This technically takes place between the second and third scene of the third chapter of The Call, but can be read without reading it. Also, thank you to @celadongirl​ and @mavzell​ for looking this over for me before I posted it!

A groan arose from the apartment the instant she walked through the door. 

"Historiaaaaaaa."

The corners of her lips twitched up at the sound. She couldn't help it; after being called "Krista" all day, it was nice to hear someone call her by her name. Especially that someone - even if her deep, melodious voice was pitched up in a probably-overdramatic whine. 

She didn't bother locking the door; there was no need with Ymir around. 

Abandoning her supplies on the kitchen table, she strode into the living room with a gentle jibe on her lips. It was rare for Ymir not to walk her back from her evening art class. She could look after herself well enough to handle the walk from campus to her apartment, but she would be remiss to skip out on an opportunity to tease her girlfriend. Especially since it was usually Ymir doing the teasing; her opportunities to turn the tables were made that much more precious by their rarity. 

"Yes, you'll see that I have successfully-" 

Her words died off as she stepped into the living room and took in the sight before her. Ymir was sprawled across the couch, shirtless and with her hair falling loosely over her shoulders. Historia would have deeply appreciated the sight were it not for the gaping wound in her shoulder. 

Only inches away from her heart. 

"Ymir!" Historia cried. One hand flew up to cover her mouth, although it did nothing to stop the pickling in her eyes. Horror, sadness, stress - and maybe, if she was honest with herself, anger. 

"Historia," Ymir repeated, lifting her head to shoot her a look that was somewhere between a pout and a scowl. "You wouldn't believe what happened to that shirt you gave me."

“Nevermind the shirt!” Historia exclaimed. “What happened!?” She rushed forward as she spoke. Now that she was closer, she could see that Ymir had draped a towel down across the couch. It was spotted with a few bloodstains, but most of them seemed well on their way to drying. Unsurprising; vampires generally didn't bleed much.

So the fact that she had been bleeding that much at all...

Ymir started to shrug, then winced when she jostled her wound. "Turns out slayer one isn't totally incompetent," she said.

Historia's heart skipped a beat as the chill of dread began to wash over her. "The slayer," she said, mouth feeling dry and ashy. Then, "you were provoking the slayer."

"I wouldn't say provoking," Ymir said. A tiny shift in her eyes made her suspect that this was a blatant lie. That and the simple fact that she knew Ymir. "More like testing the waters," she continued. "Big boss vampire like me lurking around, she was about to find out about me eventually. I'd rather it be on my terms than hers."

Historia allowed her expression to fall into something icy and serious. This whole situation was hardly a surprise. She knew that Ymir had been wanting to try her hand against a slayer for a while, and if there really were two of them now, then she wouldn't be able to resist tempting fate for long. That didn't make the situation any less painful and disappointing.

It didn't make it any less dangerous.

"Did you tell her that you don't kill people?" she asked.

Ymir snorted. "I don't think there are many slayers who'd believe that."

"She might," Historia insisted. "You could explain that-"

"-that I don't kill people because my girlfriend would be disappointed in me?" A harsh bark of laughter left Ymir's mouth. "I think that might actually make it worse."

"Ymir, she almost killed you," Historia snapped. "We have to do something to keep her from hunting you down."

For a moment, it looked like Ymir would respond with confidence and bluster; a reassurance about how she could take on a slayer if it came down to it, how she'd been anticipating a fight like this since she was turned. Or maybe she would take a different angle, place emphasis on how she'd be able to handle it quickly and easily. How, aside from this one incident, Historia wouldn't even know it was happening. How it would never place her in danger.

For a moment, it looked like Ymir would rattle off an inflated excuse or empty words. Instead, she took a long look at Historia's face and faltered.

"I'll figure something out," Ymir finally relented. "But I don't want to play my hand too early. Something's going on, and I'm not going to let it catch us off guard."

Historia frowned. There was a lot that she wanted to say. However, before she could give voice to any of it, her gaze was drawn back to Ymir's wound. Not that her attention had ever actually left it. That was rather impossible, given its sheer size, the ragged nature of it, and what it represented.

"I'll be right back," Historia murmured.

As she walked away, Ymir called, "gonna patch me up?"

Despite everything, Historia smiled. "As if you weren't waiting for me," she called back.

"I mean." Ymir's voice grew fainter as she entered the bathroom. However, it was still loud enough to resonate through the little apartment. She could even picture the expressions she was sure she was making. "Who wouldn't, if they had a cute girlfriend to play nurse for them?"

Where her girlfriend's voice seemed to resonate effortlessly, Historia had to strain a little for her reply of, "lazy!"

When she looked into the bathroom mirror, her smile had grown from the small exchange. She felt it fade when she pulled the little door the mirror was on forward to reveal the shelves tucked behind it - and the first aid kit resting on one of them.

Vampires. Slayers. For all of their differences, they were very much the same in one regard. Even the very strongest of them could be just down if they had just one bad day.

And there never seemed to be anything Historia could do to stop it.

She grabbed the first aide kit and closed the cabinet door. With the mirror back in place, her own expression stared back at her. Her smile had been replaced by a look that was tired and haunted.

After a moment of staring, she forced a smile back into place. Bright, cheerful, warm, perfect, it was the exact sort of smile that people would expect from Krista Lenz. Which meant that Ymir would see through it in a second.

That was fine. Right now, Historia needed to know that she at least tried not to let her girlfriend see that it was getting to her more than she needed her to actually believe it.

Unsurprisingly, Ymir's expression, bright and playful in spite of her wound, faded into something concerned and suspicious the moment she saw her face. Historia felt a whisper of guilt for a moment, then immediately pushed it back down.

"What do you think's going on?" she asked as she approached the couch.

Ymir sat up, sweeping her legs to the side so that Historia could sit down, and angled her torso so that she could easily access the stab wound. Historia sat down, smile widening ever so slightly, and placed the first aid kit in her lap.

As Historia rifled through the kit, Ymir said, "it's the second slayer. Leonhart."

Historia paused. "Both of them were there?" she asked, struggling to keep the tenseness out of her voice.

"Nah," Ymir said. "I've just been watching both of them. The guys Leonhart lives with... I've met them before. I don't know if they'd remember me, but we've met before." She paused, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes; a sort of suspicion that edged in on condemnation. "They're vampires, Historia."

A jolt of shock ran through Historia. Nonetheless, she forced herself to open and disinfectant wipe and start cleaning Ymir's wound. There would be no need to worry about the wound getting infected; one of the benefits of being a vampire. However, she'd noticed that she had failed to clean the dried blood off the wound, and it wouldn't do to bandage her but leave that mess underneath. She cleaned in delicate swipes, careful not to inflict any further pain, although she knew that Ymir almost certainly wouldn't show it if she caused any. That required a certain degree of focus, and that focus made her take a moment to respond.

"You mean Annie Leonhart, right?" Historia eventually asked. "And the guys she lives with are Reiner Braun and Bertolt Hoover?" She shook her head, although it was more an expression of general surprise than genuine disbelief. The past five years had taught her better than to dismiss anything as outright impossible. Even so, she pointed out, "I've seen Reiner in the sunlight before."

"Yeah," Ymir said. "That one threw me for a loop as well. He's definitely a vampire though. I didn't think it was real, but... I think he got his hands on the Gem of Amara."

"The Gem of Amara?" Historia asked.

"Magical, legendary gem that grants a vampire invulnerability," Ymir explained, her tone caught somewhere between envy and distaste. "It lets a vampire walk in the sunlight, take a stake to the heart, prevents decapitation - as long as they're wearing it, they're unkillable."

"Oh," Historia murmured. "That... sounds like it could be problematic." Disastrous.

"Oh? I thought you were against hastily judging people?" Ymir teased.

"You're the one saying you're suspicious," Historia shot back.

The blood was more or less washed away now. It wasn't perfect, but it was as close as she could get without being more forceful. She leaned over to set the bloody wipes on the side table before opening packets of gauze and padding.

Meanwhile, Ymir's expression fell away into something more somber. "For good reason. Those guys are bad news. The people they work for..." She glanced up at the ceiling as she trailed off. Historia suspected that it was to keep her from getting a good look at her eyes. From what little she could see, they had a distant, almost lost quality to them, the sort that Ymir hated letting people see. Even her. She frowned, but focused on getting the wound dressing together instead of calling her out.

It was when she was about to press the dressing to her wound, fingers hovering centimeters away from her skin, that Ymir started talking again. "I don't know much about them, but last time I got involved with them, I died."

Historia sat there, frozen. She barely dared to breathe. But she had to. She had to breathe in order to ask, "they're the ones who...?"

"No," Ymir said. "A friend of theirs, and I took him down with me. They aren't even the reason it happened. But if they're here, it's bad news."

For a moment, all Historia could do was stare. Ymir was extremely guarded about her history. She'd never told Historia exactly how she was turned, only that it was violent. She'd certainly never told her that some sort of organization was involved, or that she'd apparently managed to take out the vampire who turned her in her final, dying moments as a human. It made her yearn to ask for more information. However, the very fact that it had taken almost three years for her to tell her this much told her that she wouldn't be getting any more. Not until Ymir was ready.

"You know the disappearances around your campus?" Ymir asked, breaking her out of her stupor.

"Of course," Historia said. As she spoke, she went ahead and pressed the dressing to Ymir's wound. She carefully ran her hands over the bandages to make sure that the adhesive edges would hold up. Once she was sure they would, her hands went still, but she didn't pull them away.

"I think they're the ones responsible for it."

"What?" Historia asked, horror leaking into her voice. "Shouldn't we do something then?" She let her hands drop to her lap, but Ymir caught one of them at the last minute and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Fuck no," Ymir said, her harsh voice a stark contrast to her gentle touch. "Ackerman's a slayer; let her figure it out. We don't need to put our asses on the line."

Historia frowned. "But you picking fights with the slayers won't."

"It's what they'd expect, and it'll let me keep an eye on the situation. Besides..." Ymir grinned. "I've only picked a fight with one slayer, and it wasn't a deathmatch or anything."

Historia's gaze drifted toward Ymir's wound. A wound obtained in something that was apparently not a deathmatch. "And do you plan on having one?" she asked.

Ymir's eyes softened. "Maybe once," she admitted. "But I wouldn't do that to you."

A painful smile tugged at Historia's lips. How broken and lonely was she if Ymir could so easily tell that she wouldn't be able to handle losing her? Still, she supposed she should be grateful. She knew how eager Ymir had been to fight a slayer, once upon a time. If her happiness was the incentive she needed to give up on that suicidal dream, then she would accept that.

With that, a thought drifted to the forefront of Historia's mind. Not one that she felt any sort of genuine hope for, if she was honest with herself, but one that felt worth voicing nonetheless. "Maybe Annie isn't with Bertolt and Reiner's group. Maybe they really are friends."

Ymir scoffed. "A slayer and a pair of vampires? Not likely."

Historia frowned. "Frieda thought humans and demons could co-exist," she murmured.

"And how long did Frieda last? A year and a half? Two?" Ymir's voice, while blunt, was not unkind. That didn't stop Historia from feeling a twist of grief in her chest.

"Nice slayers don't last long," Ymir continued. "And trust me, Ackerman and Leonhart aren't nice. They aren't going to be reaching out to any vampires any time soon." She leaned against the arm of the couch with a slight huff. "Besides, you need to remember that vampires aren't the sweetest creatures either. Even if they are friends on some level, there will have been an outside force that brought them together."

Historia stared at her girlfriend. She wanted to frown - the combination of the pain still rolling in her chest and what she had just said made her feel like she should be frowning. Even so, the slightest of smiles tugged at her lips. "You say that," she said, "and yet..."

"I'm not sweet," Ymir huffed. "And you aren't a slayer."

"Maybe," Historia acknowledged. "But-"

"But nothing," Ymir said. "I love you; the rest of the world could burn for all I care. Let the terrible trio ravage everyone else on campus if they want. I'm keeping an eye on this situation because I don't want us caught in a battleground between two slayers if it goes sour."

Historia stared at Ymir for a long moment. Aside from the bit about loving her, she couldn't tell how much of what she said was true and how much was a lie.

She supposed it didn't matter in the end. Historia was part of the world. Letting it burn would be counterintuitive to Ymir's priorities.

"Alright," Historia said, a small smile playing at her lips. "But for now nothing's burning, so... get to bed."

Ymir smirked. "Oh?"

"For rest," Historia deadpanned. "You aren't in the condition for anything else."

"You're no fun," Ymir sighed. "Join me anyway?"

Historia's smile widened and softened. "Of course."

[ladyhallen]

The Sentient House and Alice

Three weeks before the elections, Alice woke up with the nagging need to move to her grandmother’s house.

It was a nice house, but simply too large for one family to have. Just simply, impossible large. Alice had once tried to catalogue all the rooms in the house but just lost count. It was as if the house itself didn’t like to be measured.

Alice got used to inanimate objects having opinions of their own. It wasn’t so bad and at least if you treated them right, they wouldn’t object to being used. It was a side effect of having taken too strongly from her grandmother.

She had a feeling that nagging need to move into the house was another quirk of her blood. Her mother never could explain it properly, other than knowing more than people.

So, with just that urge, Alice packed up her bags for a weeks clothing, all her documentation that labelled her as having something extra and moved out of her tiny apartment.

Her landlord, a man with cat-yellow eyes, sighed.

“Must be something important, if you have to do it without any prior notice,” he murmured. He was one of the few people who knew about her. Being part of the Other community, people often knew everyone else. Mainly for self-defense.

“I don’t know if it’s a calling,” Alice said. “But…there’s a need? I don’t know. A need to hide.”

The landlords eyes were wide. “Alright. I’ll spread the word.”

Alice wished he wouldn’t. While there would be some people who would appreciate the warning, there would also be others who didn’t like false alarms.

“Alice, you’ve never actually given me false alarms before,” he reminded her. “Now, stop being modest and get moving.”

Alice nodded, feeling a little bit better. “Just remember, I’m not a Seer,” she repeated, feeling the need to reiterate things.

“Yeah, you just know.”

Alice gave up.

..

The house was situated in the middle of the city. It was a large, sprawling land bracketed by fruit trees and large, rustling grass. Even if it was in the middle of the city, the trees were tall enough and thick enough to block sound and make it seem isolated.

In the middle of it all was the house.

Wreathed in spells, the windows blurred as though it was moving. It made measuring things difficult. If Alice didn’t already know that the house was sentient, she would have believed it after spending a night inside. The bathroom tended to rearrange itself according to how she liked it.

“I’m here, I’m home,” she called, opening the door that didn’t even pretend to be locked. It swung invitingly open, like it had just been closed and not closed for a good twenty years. “Stop calling, I’m here.”

The chandelier flickered and turned on.

“What’s the problem?”

The lights turned on, one by one until Alice could clearly see what was lit and what wasn’t. The house was leading her to the library and she followed, leaving her bag on the sofa by the fireplace.

It was clearly agitated and it showed. By the time Alice reached the library on the second floor, the lights blazed.

On the bookstand by the door, a book was open and being flicked to and fro by the wind. She took the hint and bent close.

“Of all the creatures that witches spent battling,” she read aloud. “Demons are the worst. Banished to the Otherworld by the Coven of Witches in the year 1905 after the disaster that was the Spanish Influenza. They are characterized by their yellow eyes and the scent of sulfur that follows them. They also have an aversion to cats.”

Alice breathed deep, trying not to panic.

“But,” she whispered. “The UCO just declared demons to be a myth. If the Coven of Witches did this and then scattered afterwards, that leaves a mark on the World. Why would the UCO declare demons to be a myth?”

Alice had no answer and the house rattled around her in agitation.

..

Since the house was clearly averse to letting her leave the house – as evidenced by the doorknob that wouldn’t twist open and the trees that suddenly blocked her way outside the gates – Alice made herself at home.

She picked a bedroom, almost jumped out of her skin when she found the drawers to be full of clothes her size and even felt her eyebrows climbing when she saw the pantry overflowing with food.

Evidently, it had prepared itself for her arrival.

“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful,” she said.

The windows preened.

Half-forgotten lessons with her grandmother resurfaced and Alice ended up baking cookies. The scent wafted up to the third floor and the house actually felt lived in. She knew the house appreciated it by the bubble bath it drew up when she headed for bed.

..

On Alice’s third day, when she was arguing with the house on whether she could go outside and get some other supplies, the doorbell rang.

She paused in the act of wiping the glasses and glared at the nearest mirror. “This discussion is not yet finished,” she declared.

Opening the door, she found herself face to face with a petite woman, glossy wings protruding from her back and an energetic smile.

“Hi!” the half-fairy greeted. Alice knew she was half since her skin wasn’t green. “I saw your ad in the internet and wondered if you were still hiring? I’m a good cook and can work around substitutes in case of allergies and Other problems.” Alice blinked at her. The woman didn’t even pause. “I can also bake and clean and sew. So anything is really fine. I just need a place to stay. The cats are all saying their fur is standing up and – “

“Wait, wait, just stop,” Alice said, trying not to shout. Fairies didn’t like sudden loud noises. “Why are you here?”

The woman looked bewildered. “You posted an ad in the internet asking about housekeeping.”

Alice sighed and pulled the woman inside. Once they were seated inside the kitchen, Alice glared at the mirror. “You posted that ad, didn’t you? I thought I told you not to do things like these without asking?”

In response, all the drawers in the kitchen, which had been obligingly opened once Alice took out the polishing rag, drew shut.

The half-fairy goggled. “The drawers just moved.” She stated carefully.

Alice sighed again. “It has a mind of its own. Most things do, when they spend enough time around me. And the house was likely the one who posted the advert too. Most probably, it convinced my laptop to do it. People,” she said loudly. “We have consent issues. Didn’t we have this discussion when I was fifteen?”

The woman laughed, a gay and infectious sound. “You must have some sorcerer blood! They’re the only ones I know that can do that, even by accident. So can I work here?”

Alice nodded. “Why do you want to work for food and lodging anyway?”

“But that’s just it,” she said seriously. “Anyone who has a drop of Other in them are hiding. Apparently, someone with Seer blood said to be careful or something.”

Alice had the feeling she could blame her old landlord for that. But…

“Wait, where did you find my advert?” she asked, feeling dread.

The woman obligingly rolled out a printed sheet and Alice felt blood drain from her face. “Is that Facebook? And the UCO page? And that…”

“The official chat room for the Other community,” she supplied. “I was really lucky to get here first. I think there’s going to be a lot more people coming here.”

Alice dropped her forehead to the table and she couldn’t even hurt herself since the table softened to avoid hurting her.

“Oh my god. What are you planning, you crazy house?” she muttered.

…

The half-fairy woman’s name was Susan and Alice set her to cooking or baking.

It was amazing to have conversation that actually talked back.

“This was your grandmother’s house?” Susan asked. “Wow, it’s amazing the UCO hasn’t seized this yet.”

Alice shrugged, trying to peel the apples. It was slow going since she didn’t particularly like holding anything sharp. “I think they tried?” she said. “I remember a year when Mum was going gray about grandmum. She and dad had a spectacular row about it.”

“It’s really well taken care of,” Susan said. “Especially the garden. I really like your trees. There’s something…different about them.”

Since Alice had seen them move and walk around, they definitely weren’t ordinary trees.

…

Alice’s next applicant was an elf, pointy ears and all.

She stared at the man when he volunteered to be the gardener.

“Pick a room,” she said. “There’s a lot.”

“My name is Samuel,” he said, a melodic trill in his voice. “Thank you for sheltering me.”

Alice blinked dazedly at him and then marched determinedly up her room to continue arguing with the laptop about taking down the adverts. She didn’t need more people.

…

Even with the advert being taken down, people still arrived in staggering, slow numbers.

After Samuel came three more elves. They all took care of the gardens. A werewolf and his mate, a half-lizard. They started a vegetable garden – which struck Alice as ironic since werewolves and lizards didn’t like vegetables and were as carnivorous as possible.

Then came the pixies who roosted in the Roof Gardens and only came down to steal some desserts. They did amazing cleaning and swept the house of any dust at night when everyone slept.

Two gnomes arrive, bringing with them one earth nymph and two tree nymphs. Alice, at this point sits down with Susan and tries not to pull out her hair.

“How am I supposed to feed an earth nymph and the gnomes?” Alice hissed at the fairy. “Aren’t gnomes vegetarian?”

Susan giggled. “It’s a good thing Erik and James have just harvested their first crops then. It’s like fate. You gather such amazing people, Alice.”

It definitely wasn’t Alice’s doing. She merely stared at all the people arriving and kept worrying.

Meanwhile, the elections draw closer.

….

The first time Alice sees a cat when she’s doing laundry, she dismissed it as unimportant. Its green eyes stare at her, and then seemingly finds her suitable.

The next time she sees a cat; there are four of them sunning themselves on a patch of sunlight in the library.

“Okay, this is definitely not normal,” she said with a frown.

The cats ignore her.

..

Two pairs of vampire mates arrive and seek sanctuary. Alice tried not to cringe when Erik eyes them up.

“Please don’t fight,” she pleaded. “The house will definitely get angry.”

At that statement, the pixies that were watching the proceedings by the roof beams, gasp.

The vampires paused and Erik goes still.

“I’m not fighting them,” Erik announced. “But I’m not going to make any promises if they mess with my vegetables.”

The vampires nod at him regally.

“What can you do?” Alice asked before someone else exploded. Vampires tend to make people irritated. “We can sort your books. And do repairs. We also brought with us some animals. We know you like fresh milk and we can get blood from the cows as well so it balances evenly for us.”

Alice tried not to laugh out loud. Vampires volunteering for animal husbandry. Vampires volunteering to be repair men.

….

Marcia, one of the most well-known in the Other community, shows up and it nails the coffin to how weird her life is.

Because Marcia, White Mage extraordinaire, just volunteered to be her librarian.

“I can also help raise defensive spells,” Marcia adds at Alice’s flummoxed silence, mistaking it for hesitation.

“That’s fine,” Susan interjects for her. “But...”

The words, why are you here remains unsaid, but the White Mage hears it anyway.

“I did a divination spell once the warning reached me,” Marcia says, like its normal for someone to manage a divination spell and have it work. Gosh, it’s blowing Alice’s mind. “And my results said that the best place to be in right now is the house of a Witch.”

Her houseguests look at Alice in interest. The words take a while to penetrate.

“But!” Alice says with surprise. “I’m not a witch! I mean…I don’t think I am? I can’t work with plants for shit and my empathy is out of whack. I don’t have a green thumb!”

Marcia finally looks confused, which makes Alice feel better. There are finally two of them suffering here.

“I do agree that an affinity with plants is a sign of a witch, but you are so obviously magical and good with witchcraft that it’s affecting everything around you, even non-living things,” the White Mage says. “The cats agree with me,” she adds, pointing out the three cats twining by her feet.

Alice, for the first time in a while, finally knows what she is. And she doesn’t appreciate it in the slightest.

…

On the day of the election, the camera pans to the president candidate and Alice almost jumps a foot in the air when his eyes turn yellow. Not dragon-gold or cat-yellow but demon-yellow.

An instinctive revulsion rises up in her and Alice finally understands why she had known to hide.

Because demons had finally come back from their banishing and Alice was one of the few Witches left in the world.

...

wrote this a few years ago, just posted this now. 

[evilmuffinlord]

Stranger in a Strange Land- Chapter 6- Search

Cover art by: https://wolfy1298.tumblr.com/

In which a search is conducted, a deal is struck, and a throne is usurped

Read it on AO3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/20280019/chapters/62418322

or on FF.net:  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13365894/6/Strangers-in-a-Strange-Land

Teaser below cut

“So, where do we start?” Mina asked as she and Izuku stepped out of the front gate of Astera and into the edges of the Ancient Forest. They had been given a long-term objective by the Commission, but the exact path they took there had been left up to them.

After Mina and Izuku’s initial success in the Rotten Vale, progress on the investigation into Zorah Magdaros had ground to a halt. It was obvious from the massive chunks of solidified magma at the bottom of the Vale that Zorah Magdaros had been there at some point, but it had moved on before the Commission had gotten anywhere near the area, and didn’t seem to be coming back anytime soon. 

Not that Mina really blamed the massive Elder Dragon for not wanting to stick around in the Vale. In addition to being a deeply unpleasant place to spend time, the Vale apparently served as some sort of monster graveyard, feeding the rest of the New World with nutrients. It sounded weird to Mina, but Izuku had found the idea quite fascinating. He and the Tracker had spent several hours back in the Third Fleet’s Research Base swapping ideas about how the Vale “fit into the broader ecosystem of the New World” while Mina did her best not to fall asleep at the table. She hadn’t succeeded, of course, and Izuku had eventually carried her back to the room the Third Fleet had set aside for them, but he at least had seemed to have fun with the discussion.

In the end, despite several more missions to the Rotten Vale (including an assignment to capture a live Odogaron for a half-mad researcher who wanted to keep the ravenous monster as a “pet”), they hadn’t been able to find out any more about Zorah Magdaros’ movements or destination.

The members of the Commission were nothing if not determined, though, and they had immediately come up with several new angles to attack the problem from. The Tracker was staying in the Vale, both to search for any clues that had been overlooked, and to monitor the effluvia levels there, which seemed to be rising the longer the Commission was there. 

Meanwhile, the Field Team Leader was leading an expedition to follow Zorah Magdaros’ trail from where it had first made landfall to the canyon where they had attempted to capture it. They hoped that with the new information they had uncovered about Zorah Magdaros’ reasons for coming to the new world, they would be able to uncover some new clues about where the massive Elder Dragon was heading.

Lastly, Izuku and Mina had been dispatched to the Ancient Forest to search for a First Wyverian who was rumored to be living there. The reclusive native inhabitants of the New World were said to be expert hunters, as well as incredibly knowledgeable on the subject of monster behavior. If there was any group that would know why Zorah had fled its grave site, it would be them.

Unfortunately, they were tricky to find when they didn’t want to be seen, which meant none of the other hunters who regularly visited the Ancient Forest had seen hide nor hair of the Wyverian. Their only clues were a few scattered footprints and a hunch that the recent changes in monster population had to do with a very skilled hunter in the area.

Izuku and Mina’s search for it was a bit of a Hail Mary, but they had known that going in. Besides, it wasn’t any less likely to turn up results than the other avenues the Commission was pursuing, so there was no harm in trying.

There was also another reason that Mina had so ardently pushed for her and Izuku to take the assignment. The researchers had gone on and on about how knowledgeable the Wyverians were supposed to be, to the point that even she had begun to think about what all that knowledge could include. If the stories about them were to be believed, the First Wyverians had been around for ages, and had even interacted with civilizations that were now lost to time. Some of these civilizations had possessed incredible technology, and Mina hoped that one of them might have passed along information about how she and Izuku could return home.

Not that she wanted to do it right away, of course. They needed to help the Commission find Zorah Magdaros before they could return. There were far too many people counting on their help at this point, and Mina was far too invested in the project to leave now. 

But she did miss her home, her parents, her friends, and her original form. Life in the New World was great, aside from the monsters that regularly threatened to eat her, and she had made many excellent friends, but it just wasn’t the same as she was used to.

She knew Izuku was feeling a bit homesick as well. They hadn’t discussed it much, but she often caught him looking at a portrait of his mother that he had drawn in the back of his hunting notebook. The way he had drawn her made his mother look like the sweetest, gentlest woman in the world, which Mina had no trouble believing. After all, only someone as good as that could have raised someone as amazing as Izuku.

“I was thinking we should ask the Bugtrappers if they have any leads,” Izuku replied, breaking her out of her reverie, “They take a lot of paths that the hunters don’t, so they might know where the First Wyverian is staying. Even if they don’t, they should be able to point us in the right direction.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mina said, setting her course for the Bugtrapper village near the top of the Ancient Forest. 

After the adventures in recent weeks, the trek through the Forest was actually rather relaxing. The air was clean and fresh, and made Mina feel all the healthier for breathing it. The ground was firm enough that she didn’t have to worry about turning an ankle on a random patch of gristle or falling into a hidden swamp hole if she wasn’t paying attention. Even the weather was excellent, with nary a cloud in the sky as they picked their way through the foliage and towards the base of the massive tree.

Eventually they reached a large clearing at the base of the tree, one that she and Izuku were quite familiar with. After all, it housed the entrance to the cave where the largest Jagras pack in the Forest made their home, and where Izuku and Mina had fought their first monster. 

The clearing was far from empty though. Apparently the Jagras pack agreed that the weather was quite nice, and had decided to take their lunch outside. The pack was arrayed in a loose semicircle around a pair of Kestodon carcasses, with some mid-feast and the rest sunning themselves in nearby patches of sunlight. 

It didn’t take long for one of the Jagras to notice that their meal had been interrupted. The cry of alarm rippled through the pack, causing every member to leap to their feet and rush the hunters.

While Izuku unlimbered his charge blade, Mina wasted no time in charging the pack. She remembered their first encounter with a Jagras pack well, and she didn’t want to risk Izuku getting surrounded again. True, he was much better equipped to handle a pack than he had been back then, but she still didn’t want to risk him being overwhelmed and gnawed to pieces.

She dashed through their ranks, slashing wildly at any Jagras that came within striking distance and just generally making herself a nuisance. It worked like a charm, and a large part of the pack broke off to attack her, leaving Izuku to battle a much more manageable group of six Jagras.

She, on the other hand, had attracted the attention of nearly a dozen of the miniature wyverns. They hissed and spat as they circled her, weaving back and forth around each other to create the illusion that there were even more of them present. Every few seconds, one of them would dart forward to swipe at her, but Mina was easily able to avoid such blows while countering with her own.

Finally, after seeing that fighting defensively was getting them nowhere, the Jagras paused their circling, then darted forward as one.

Mina had to admire their teamwork and coordination. She and Izuku were a well-oiled team at this point, and they could sometimes communicate their intentions without words, but it still took them time to do so. The Jagras seemed to move as a singular unit. Maybe it was an ability that was inherent to the Jagras species, or maybe it came from living as a member of a pack for their entire lives. Either way, the display had Mina hoping that she and Izuku would someday reach that level of coordination. 

Instead of retreating from the charge or defending herself, Mina surged towards one of the larger members of the Jagras pack. It blinked in surprise and confusion, slowing slightly and making Mina’s job all the easier. She leapt forward, springboarding off of the Jagras’s head and flying over the pack. Behind her, she could hear the cries of surprise and alarm as the Jagras lost sight of their prey and ran into each other.

She snickered, picturing the surprised looks on their faces, then prepared to actually fight them. She’d made them good and angry by now, and Jagras were nothing if not tenacious once they were provoked. They wouldn’t be dissuaded by some surprise maneuvers and a few light blows.

True to form, the Jagras were already recovering from their confusion and lining up to attack again. Rather than let them get into formation, Mina began her assault on the Jagras in earnest. She danced between the members of the pack, slashing at their legs and faces wherever she could and moving on before any could land a blow on her.

The pack, unused to fighting anything her size that was so aggressive, struggled to keep up with her movements. As the damage increased and morale dropped, the Jagras began to retreat one by one. The more that fled, the more their morale dropped, which only increased Mina’s chances.

For her part, Mina was happy to let them flee. She and Izuku might be spending quite a bit of time in the Ancient Forest in the near future, and making the Jagras wary of them might prove to be very useful. Besides, they had an entire box filled with Jagras scales and talons back in Astera at this point.

Then, when only five Jagras remained and her victory was nearly assured, disaster struck.

Read the rest on AO3 or FF.net! Links available on my bio if tumblr deletes them again.

[spirit-of-the-void]

Gunpowder and Flower Petals (Dante x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 3

Author’s Notes: I formally apologize for the long hiatus everyone. I was depressed and anxious after having some doubts in my writing, and then got roped into a long commission....I’ll do my best to keep this updated

A huge thanks to @meliapis​ for making the new cover picture for this story!

                                                     Chapter 3

                             ~Calloused Palms and Delicate fingers~

Opening the shop in the morning went on as usual.

You woke up bright and early, getting in a shower and some toast for breakfast before bouncing cheerfully downstairs. Unlike the previous morning, Clover followed each footstep, black tail flicking back and forth as she searched out a nice patch of sunlight to lounge in. Meanwhile, you breezed through each task with ease, pleased to find all the previous day’s seedlings fully grown and ready for trimming. Magic made quick work of those, your mouth babbling forth cheerful praises and kind words to the new bulbs and buds as more were planted in the place of others. A cycle, one that came and went every day without fail. Going smooth enough that there was time to spare, leaving you free to tidy up the front shop and loosely braid your hair. Soft, delicate--peppered with mini carnations and tiny clovers, in honor of your lovely familiar soaking in the morning sun on her belly fur.

You giggled when the cat blinked slowly at you, whiskers glowing with bright light as the shop door was unlocked and sign flipped to “open”. Customers usually wouldn’t come in for another half hour or so, but that was fine. Mondays were generally slow anyway, so you didn’t expect many people to stop by minus the occasional regular or newbie looking for a last minute gift. After ten o’clock, there would be no other orders either, only one being scheduled for a restaurant to pick up some time after nine. Various assortments, mostly lilies. You looked at Clover, realizing this was probably why the cat was more comfortable hanging around the shop that day. Low amounts of people, lots of sun, plenty of time to get attention from their owner. Typical. You shook your head, causing a few stray petals to flutter out onto the floor.

Since the morning was slow, you attempted different tasks to keep yourself busy and distracted from wandering thoughts. Yesterday was flower crowns, today was grinding roots and leaves into salves. They were sold on the side as natural remedies, and they definitely worked for their intended purposes. Balms to soothe pain, powder to sprinkle on a pillow to aid sleep, cream to help with dry skin. It was one of the few things your mother managed to pass along before she died, your mind awash with memories of those times. Her smile, showing you just how to use a mortar and pestle while lightly channeling magic. It was cathartic, a walk down memory lane and a reason to smile.

Thinking of her always made flowers bloom in your hair.

 By the time that restaurant came to pick up their order there was quite a few buds in your silken locks. They didn’t comment on it, seeming to be in a bit of  a hurry as the boxes of flowers were loaded into their truck quickly and efficiently. Papers signed, payment given, customers on their merry way in a matter of minutes. You both preferred it this way and felt a twinge of disappointment--it was nice to have things done and ready at a fast pace. Satisfying even. But once they were gone you were left in the shop by yourself, minus Clover sleeping soundly in a patch of sun as it warmed the fur on her belly. Mondays were oddly lonely, leaving you to drift around the shop repeating small tasks over and over in an attempt to stave off boredom. Trim the roses, arrange bouquets, praise seedlings, make flower crowns--it left your thoughts free to drift in and out of focus, only snapping back when the occasional customer popped in for some flowers.

It was normal. But wasn’t normal was the new addition to your thoughts--Dante. 

How could you stop yourself from thinking about him? You sighed softly, fingers playing with the locket resting on your chest as his face kept making an appearance. Maybe you were just easily swayed by ruggedly handsome men? His white hair, slightly unshaven face and soft eyes...Ah, there it was again. The lonely feeling was worse today because each moment passed with you hoping the mysterious man might return. Maybe you were reading too many romantic books, head spinning webs and stories where none belonged. A handsome stranger comes into your shop, rough around the edges and seeming to carry a deep sadness...what a love story that would make! Problem was that your wistful mind kept hoping so desperately that it was yours.

“I’m losing my mind, Clover,” You mumbled to the cat, who most certainly wasn’t listening, “Maybe Mrs. Davenport was right--I need to get out of the shop sometimes.”

Clover gave no indication that she had heard other than a flick of her ear, eyes still closed and fur shiny in the sun. You sigh, head resting on your hands as you watched that same sunlight make dancing patterns on the walls every time a car passed. These feelings of attraction came with a strange guilt, one you wanted to shake. How rude was it to daydream about someone who simply came in to get their roses? To convince yourself that there was more to the encounter? He did ask me out to coffee, didn’t he? You tried to reason through the doubts with that, but maybe he could have meant it in a friendly manner? Overthinking again, panicking, mind left to wander in the quiet calm of a monday morning. You let out a light groan, a scattered pile of petals falling from your curls with the spike of stress. Too many maybes, there to make you regret not setting up a day more.

What were you going to do?

“Clover,” You practically whined, head now resting on the counter as you stared at the wall in a daze, “If only you could speak...I need someone to tell me what an idiot I’m being.”

The cat didn’t like you berating yourself. This caused the furry creature to blink her eyes open, glaring at you from the floor before she stretched and sprung to her feet. She was on the counter moments later, one paw firmly pressed to your forehead in a sign of disapproval. Message received loud and clear--she didn’t like you calling yourself an idiot. 

“Sorry sorry…” You mumble, making a face when she rubbed her fur all over your poor nose. Thank god you weren't allergic.

Regardless, Clover settled down nearby on the counter edge, staring with round eyes while her tail flicked back and forth. You knew she wanted to help, but there wasn’t much a cat could do in a situation like this. To offer even that silent support was more than you had for a long time, already used to not having friends after going through school alone. Children and teenagers strayed away from the strange and unusual, and you had a reputation for yourself early on. That girl is strange, I heard she can grow flowers in her hair--What if she collects animal skulls in her spare time? Does she do blood rituals? Can she curse us if we do something wrong? Witch rumors spread fast, so you kept that to yourself for a long time. No friends, no relationships ...just the flowers, and focusing on the skills your mother left behind. 

Maybe that was why the idea of going on a date was so exciting, so...nerve wracking. 

You just didn’t want to be alone anymore. The Davenports were lovely, but their new home was an hour drive away. They didn’t want to be close to a city after the Redgrave incident a while back, which you could fully understand. Both stopped by whenever they could manage, and you to them, but...those times between left a lasting effect. It felt so selfish to want more after all the wonderful things you had been given, but...was it so wrong to want companionship? You had gotten lucky, raised by two wonderful human beings who didn’t have to help you, but chose to anyway. They took your mother’s role seriously, buying books on witchcraft and being supportive in any way they could after the incident at school...The Davenports gave so much, and you would never forget that.

You would be fine. You just needed to get past these lonelier days.

So lost in your drifting thoughts, you didn’t notice someone pass by the open store front at all, not even when Clover’s eyes flickered to that area with interest. They stood at the door for a few moments, as if gathering their thoughts before the bell jingled to sound an entrance. Yet you still didn’t notice at all, focused on those patterns on the wall. Thinking about your mother, the Davenports, school and the kids who ridiculed you there. It wasn’t like you to not pay attention, used to greeting each and every customer to make them feel welcome and see if they needed help. But you were oblivious to the tall man entered through the glass door, staring at you in surprise and raising one white eyebrow as he took in you slumped over the counter, looking glum. What a sight that must have been, seeing the cheerful girl from yesterday so troubled and moody.

No, you didn’t notice him at all. Not until he was standing right by the counter, deep voice jolting you right out of daydreaming and bringing the previous days excitement back in a burst.

 “You alright, sunshine? Lookin’ a bit cloudy today.”

Oh.

You jolted upright with a gasp, petals scattering all over the counter as you swung around to stare up at the white haired mystery man himself. Sure enough, Dante stood tall and handsome, completely real and solid as he met your gaze with a light grin. Oh goodness, he was dressed differently today--still casually, but a little more clean cut. His stubble had been trimmed neatly, and now he wore a grey button up tucked into black jeans with that red leather jacket slung over his shoulder. The sight of his white hair pulled back in a messy attempt at a ponytail sent your heart into overdrive, orchids blooming and dropping a considerable amount of petals from your hair onto the pile already forming at your feet. You immediately tried to hide them in your hair, flustered and panicking a bit despite how absolutely relieved you felt.

There goes the loneliness, here comes the absolute sheer excitement and nervousness with him being in the shop again.

He called you sunshine. He remembered. He’s here.

Calm down, you’re being ridiculous.

“O...oh…!” You tried to get your voice under control, but failed, cheeks already feeling far too warm as you stood straighter and stammered, “H...Hello again, Dante…!”

The rugged male seemed surprise as well, tilting his head a bit as he cleared his throat. You noticed him nervously run a hand through his hair, almost like he didn’t realize it was in a ponytail--the action pulled a few strands loose.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya, “ He chuckled, the sound both warm and a bit off, like he wasn’t sure how to progress at all, “Shocked you remember me, to be honest. I uh...didn’t make the best first impression.”

Something about his awkward disposition was oddly...cute. Relaxing, even. Dante kind of reminded you of a nervous boy asking a girl to a school dance for the first time. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but he seemed just as nervous as you, but better at hiding it. Trying to keep his cool. Reading people was a hobby you kept up on while working in the shop, so his cues and mannerisms were starting to make more sense. That hand through his hair, the way he kept shifting from one leg to another, clearing his voice...He looked a bit embarrassed, to be completely honest. No better than you, which was comforting and endearing all the same. 

His words made you smile softly, some of the anxiety melting away as you replied with firm honesty in your tone, “I disagree...you were very kind and understanding, it made for a lovely first impression. Of course I remember, Dante.”

This seemed to relax him a bit too, his stiff posture losing some of its edge as he let out a hefty sigh, “Maybe, but I do owe you an apology though. I uhhh... I realized later that I hadn’t actually given you a day when we can have coffee or...anything.”

Oh. You blinked, staring at his blue eyes despite him looking away, scratching the side of his neck and looking slightly guilty. Another nervous habit. Cute. He must have realized belatedly, like you, that no date had been set up for this impromptu interaction that had you so nervous. 

A smile tilted your lips, followed by a soft, embarrassed giggle as you admitted, “I kind of forgot to ask about a day too...I...I got too excited and didn’t realize till later…”

Admitting that felt strange, almost like you were giving away too much. It was awkward, but in a way that seemed oddly correct. 

Dante certainly didn’t mind. Hearing about your excitement made his blue eyes finally meet yours, surprise and relief mingling on his expression like it somehow took a weight off his chest. You didn’t really know what you looked like to him in that moment, but Dante was absolutely enchanted. Flowers blooming in your curls, cheeks pink with honesty and excitement...it shot several arrows through his already nervous heart, sending it into overdrive like a caged bird seeking to be freed. Thank god he decided to come back, that he didn’t chicken out and listened to the others.

“That was all on me, sunshine,” He chuckled, leaning against the counter and plucking a few petals from its surface. You flushed more at his closeness, watching him rub the soft floral between his fingers, “Thinkin’ I got a bit too excited myself. It was pretty rude of me to just...ask and bounce like I did. So how ‘bout I make it up to you and take you out today, if you’re free?”

Today? So soon? It was everything you wanted and more.

You couldn’t help but notice he smelled nice today--he was close enough that a warm scent reached your sensitive nose, bringing traces of what must have been a men’s soap brand or cologne. Both this and his words sent a little thrill down your spine, heartbeat pounding in your chest even as Clover looked on with curious eyes. She seemed to be keeping her distance for now, sizing Dante up even as he looked at her with a hint of interest in his own gaze. Focus, you needed to focus--The man had asked you a question. But the sight of him trying to cover up his nervousness by turning his attention to Clover was only making you more flustered.

We’re both a mess. An absolute mess.

Dante extended a hand to let your familiar sniff, purposely allowing the small cat take her time instead of petting her outright. Clover already knew about Dante after you talking to her about it. But...her reaction to sniffing him really put you off. Clover was usually a very mild mannered cat, she behaved and liked everyone she met. With Dante, however, her little nose scrunched up in obvious distaste, ears flat against her skull and a low growl emanating from her throat. You blinked in surprise, watching Dante immediately retrieve his hand and look ruefully disappointed. Not surprised, like he somehow expected this outcome. He didn’t try to reach out again, making an apologetic face to you as she let out another low growl.

What in the world was that? Your familiar immediately slunk her way around you in a very protective manner, ears still down and eyes not leaving Dante for a second. Why was she so angry? You got nothing but honesty from Dante when he spoke, and there were no bad scents or energies. Mind you, there was something a bit off about his aura, just a twinge of something from him that felt familiar. But...no violence, no bad intentions. Your senses didn’t lie, not when it came to something this important. Perhaps Clover was just feeling a bit territorial or jealous? Having a stranger coming into your life might have been scary, or maybe it was due to how upset you were the previous night due to not knowing if he would come back?

“Clover!” You scolded, picking the cat off the counter and tucking her against your chest, “Don’t be mean, that’s so unlike you…!”

The cat snorted in your face, ears flicking and looking quite perturbed. Her gaze kept flickering over to Dante in a fierce glare, letting out light growls as Dante shifted back a step, getting the message loud and clear.

“Don’t worry about it,” He chuckled, seeming ruefully as he stared at Clover’s fluffed up tail, “Cats don’t like me too much--never knew why.”

That last part of his sentence...it was tinged in a bit of untruth. He knew why cats didn’t like him--but whatever it was, the man was reluctant to tell you why.

Perhaps that should have made you wary, should have made you hesitate. Clover was your familiar, and her judgement was important to you above all other things. But this lie, seeing the almost sad way his eyes drifted away only served to make you very curious, stirring that part of you that sought adventure and wanted to know more. Past attraction, wanting to know what rested at the core of this strange man who seemingly stumbled into your life. You paused, staring at Clover’s scrunched up face imploringly for a moment, gathering your thoughts. If anything, going out to a coffee was the safest you could get--you could pick the place, somewhere public and talk for a bit. If there was any indication of danger, you could leave. Easy as that.

You wanted to know him. Wanted to know what made Clover not like him.

I’m sorry, Clove. I have to try, I have to know.

“I can close the shop down early for the day,” You said decidedly, looking shyly at Dante while he blinked in surprise, “It’s slow on mondays. Do you mind waiting here while I take Clover upstairs and get changed?”

Something akin to eagerness flashed in his eyes, but he tried to keep his tone neutral as he replied, “You sure? I wouldn’t want to barge in on your work day or anything.”

That was the fun part about owning your own business--you got to set hours and make choices. There were no more deliveries and business would be slow at best, completely absent at most.

A soft smile tilted your lips as you stepped out from behind the counter, shaking free a cloud of petals as you turned up the closed sign on the door. All the while Clover growled softly, tail doubled in size with her anger. She wasn’t liking this situation at all, especially not with you ignoring her warnings and still going out with Dante.

“It’s perfectly fine,” You reassured the man and her at the same time, slipping past him to head upstairs, “I’ll be down in five minutes...I know a lovely bakery nearby that serves coffee and tea, we can go there for lunch.”

Somehow this relieved Dante, like he hadn’t actually decided where you both would go. He nodded, running a hand through his silver hair again in a nervous gesture, “Sounds good, sunshine.”

That nickname made your heart beat faster, cheeks flushed as you hurried to the back room and up toward your apartment. Petals drifted in your wake, a few more orchids blooming in your excitement. Lord, you were so out of control at that moment it was ridiculous. This was your first date, the only one you had ever gone on in your whole life. No dating in high school, so busy with the shop afterwards that it never came up. But now...what were you supposed to do on a first date? Could you hold hands? Was that too much? So many questions were buzzing around your skull that you weren’t sure how to process anything.

All the while, Clover meowed naggingly as you entered the apartment, seeming distressed as you set her down on the table. She followed, eyes watching and little mouth working overtime as you changed into something cute--a pink sweater tucked into a high-waisted, black pleated skirt. Would pink thigh highs and boots be too much? You settled for tights instead, and brown laced boots to go with it. There was still that part of your brain worried about Clover’s reaction to Dante, but you wanted to try trusting your instincts for once. 

So many years you spent letting fear and worry keep you to yourself, working in the flowershop alone. A lot of that time was spent letting others make your choices for you, content on just doing what was expected of you and safe. But now...you wanted something exciting, wanted to try and listen to instinct for once.

You paused, taking a deep breath and holding your mother’s locket firmly between your fingers. She would never let you get hurt, never lead you astray. There were no bad feelings from Dante, and until there were you would rather take a chance than play everything safe.

“I’ll be okay, Clover,” You promised the cat, finally looking down at her body weaving between your feet before plucking her up into an embrace. She stopped meowing as you did so, looking incredibly worried even as you kissed her snout, “Just trust me, okay? I don’t know why you’re so spooked, but...I want to take a chance. If something is up, I’ll come right home. Promise.”

The cat still hesitated, ears pressed back and eyes wide with worry. But she didn’t meow again as you set her down, grabbing your small purse and keys before heading for the door. Cell phone carefully tucked away, everything in its place. Just in case, you brought a packet of particularly potent seeds, ones that could sprout into vines if you needed to make a quick retreat. You never ever assumed Dante could hurt you, or even want to, but...Mrs. Davenport taught you to be cautious, and you didn’t want to be too trusting.

Clover was sitting by the door as you closed it, like she was ready to wait until you came back. Hopefully she wouldn’t do that, but you gave her a small wave anyway as the wooden surface separated you both from view. Her dislike of the white haired male was definitely disappointing, you wouldn’t deny that. There was still a mystery to uncover, however, and going out on this little date was something you wanted more than anything. It felt so foolish to think this way--like those girls you see in movies who end up ignoring warning signs and going out with serial killers.

But...Dante’s aura was gentle with you. It was sad, filled with trauma he seemed to keep bottled up. The colors were warm and bright, tinged with something you didn’t understand--but you wanted to.

So you gathered your courage... and made your way downstairs. 

Dante was still waiting there when you arrived, seemingly trying to fix his messed up ponytail. That leather jacket was now on his body, a stark contrast from the neutral grays and blacks of his outfit. He didn’t notice you return, eyes down in concentration as his long fingers slid back the white hair with a black hair tie in tow. Something about it made your heart beat faster, flustered all over again at the way his grey button up shifted around his chest muscles and waist. Oh dear…maybe you didn’t have the nerves for this? Sent blushing and nervous just at the sight of him doing something so normal, like a flustered school girl.

No backing down now.

You took a deep breath, nervously tucking a curl behind your ear and trying to will each flower to stop blooming in the loose braid you still had. The orchids had a mind of their own and practically blasted your feelings to the whole world, it was so embarrassing. So...honest.

Dante looked up at the sound of your boots clicking on the floor, breath catching as he took in your appearance with unabashed awe before trying to make his expression more collected and neutral. You looked like a fae in his eyes, ethereal and gorgeous in the sun’s dancing patterns. The flowers in your hair, the way your braid curled over your shoulder with the occasional curl escaping to cling around your face….you were a vision, and he was having trouble gathering himself together at the sight. How was he supposed to not act like a stammering, bumbling mess around you now? 

 He needed to remember what Trish and Lady told him. Open all the doors for her, tell her she’s pretty, but that’s not the most important thing about her. Remember to listen, to talk about her and yourself. Be a gentleman for fucks sake.

“Welcome back, sunshine,” He greeted you, lips quirked in a half smile as he stood straight and stepped away from the counter. There was a hint of nervousness in his eyes, a chuckle escaping his lips as he added, “Just gonna warn you now, I’m gonna be a whole idiot today walking around with you lookin’ that gorgeous. I’m already forgetting how to make complete sentences.”

He was trying to use humor to cover up his awkward compliment, which was charming your socks off while also sending your heart pounding away. I’m such a mess. I’m such a MESS--one complement and I’m practically a puddle at his feet.

You flushed pink, looking down as you stammered, “I...I highly doubt that...but...you look very handsome today. I’ve never been on a date before so...I might be an idiot too.”

Were you supposed to admit that? Maybe not. But Dante didn’t seem to mind. 

He let out a sigh of relief, walking toward you and staring ruefully at your flustered face. You felt a twinge of surprise when he held out a hand for your to take, showing you those calloused, scarred fingers you felt the day before. 

“Then we have something in common,” He admitted, scratching the back of his head with the other hand, “This is honestly the first time I’ve tried going on a date with anyone...I’m a bit of a disaster, sunshine.”

Somehow, that both surprised you and didn’t. He was so handsome and warm, but...there was tragedy in his life. It was something dark and heavy, weighing the poor man down and you weren’t doubting that, not with what you could sense. But...you were a bit of a disaster too, and you had your own secrets tucked away where no one could see. Dante was an adventure, and something about him drew you in like a moth to a flame. So you took his hand gently with your fingers, enjoying the way he sucked in a surprised breath and a hint of flush made its way across his cheeks. It would seem some of his reactions were very honest, especially when your fingers curled around his and squeezed. Warm...very warm, and oh so gentle with you...he squeezed back.

His expression was so cute.

You smiled softly, tugging him towards the door as you replied, “That’s fine with me...I’m a bit of a disaster too, so try not to worry too much. We can learn together, slowly if you’d like.”

This was only the first date--both of you had all the time in the world to decide how this would go. Maybe after learning about him, or seeing how he acted in public would make you change your mind. Maybe you weren’t compatible--but learning that would be part of the fun. And there would be no better way of doing it than having a nice lunch at Alex’s bakery, with people you knew and faces around who had your back. But Dante didn’t seem to be a bad person, nor did he seem to have bad intentions. There was only a quiet, nervous eagerness from him as he opened the flowershop door for you, still holding your hand as you locked it tight for the day. 

The waiting mid-day sun was warm on your face, like a soothing caress as you turned to smile at Dante. Your cheeks immediately flushed, however, at how handsome he looked with the light glinting off his white hair. Lord, he was a beautiful man, and the world seemed determined to show you. The thought made you suck in a breath, trying to gather any courage you could muster while tugged his hand to signal movement. He fell in step easily, tucking you hand around his arm like a gentleman would.

Do not get too attached yet. It’s only one day.

“I think you’ll like Alex’s bakery,” You hummed, the wind rustling your curls as you walked the familiar path, “His sweets are great if you like that--and they have a wonderful dark roast and many different exotic teas.”

“Sweets are good,” Dante nodded in approval, eyes lighting up at the prospect, “To be honest I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, sunshine.”

A sweet tooth then? That was pretty surprising for a man like him, not that you would say that.

Instead you smiled, staring forward as you responded softly, “What’s your favorite sweet, Dante?”

You expected him to think about it, or maybe rattle off something like chocolate or some cream filled pastry. But instead he grinned, his answer quick and smooth as he turned to meet your gaze.

“My favorite? Strawberries.”

Read on AO3

Like what you see? Consider buying me a kofi: https://ko-fi.com/E1E7GCMU

[rosedavid]

hi! can you please write a fic where tj tries to teach cyrus to play basketball but he gets a little hurt, so tj patches him up? thanks!

i liked writing this prompt, so thank you so much! :) it ended up kind of angsty, but also sweet and fluffy. I hope you enjoy!!

Basketball Daze

“I want to learn how to play basketball,” Cyrus declares all the sudden.

TJ lifts himself up from his previous position against Cyrus’s chest with a grumble of objection. As he props his elbow underneath him to get a better look at Cyrus, his blonde hair flops across his forehead. His face is red and textured from laying against Cyrus’s shirt. In other words, to Cyrus, he’s never looked cuter.

TJ frowns, “Basketball? What brought that on? I thought you hated any sort of physical activity.”

Cyrus sighs, swinging his legs off the bed to go and splay the curtains away from the window. Sunlight bursts throughout the room. The intensity causes TJ to squint and flop back down onto the bed with a tired groan.

“We could just stay here and cuddle more,” TJ whines, burying his head into Cyrus’s pillow.

“We’re wasting this beautiful, sunny day!” Cyrus responds. “Also, we live in Shadyside, so who knows how long it will last.” 

When TJ makes no effort to move, Cyrus comes over to tug his wrist insistently. “Come on, Teej, you’ve been wanting to teach me how to play forever, right?”

“Yeah,” TJ agrees, finally sitting upright with Cyrus’s help. “I guess I’m just confused as to why today of all days you’re so persistent.”

Cyrus shrugs, “Why not? I’m feeling peppy today, and my legs were getting restless laying there.”

TJ struggles to stand up, tripping over his own feet a few times. “Wait, you weren’t sleeping? Were you just watching me sleep?!”

“Maybe…” he trails off, cheeks reddening as he goes to defend himself. “You just look so soft and peaceful when you sleep!”

TJ tosses a pair of sneakers to him in response, but Cyrus can see the obvious blush he attempts to hide. He grins, still not over the fact that he makes TJ Kippen blush like that. It’s just another amazing privilege that comes with being his boyfriend. Honestly, sometimes it just all feels too good to be true. After they confessed to each other on the bench at Andi’s party, Cyrus walked home in a daze. When he woke up the next morning, he remembers frantically texting TJ to make sure it wasn’t all just a crazy fever dream.

Now, the two of them have fallen into a nice rhythm. After the few weeks of awkwardness that comes with any new relationship, they quickly began to figure things out. Both of them know each other’s schedules by heart at this point, so much so that they’ll meet each other outside of their classroom doors. Cyrus always comes to TJ’s practices when he can, and TJ makes sure to help Cyrus find inspiration for his creative writing course. Then, after school, they’ll either hang out by themselves or with their friends if they can. Weekends, though, are Cyrus’s favorite. Not only is there no school, but him and TJ always try to plan a date night during the weekend. Usually it’s nothing fancy, but it’s always just the two of them. They soon become the highlight of Cyrus’s week.

“Come on Romeo,” TJ comments, “Let’s get going! I always keep a spare basketball in my backpack.”

Cyrus starts laughing, but stops when he sees the serious expression on TJ’s face.

“Wait, seriously?!”

A confused expression pops up on TJ’s face. “Yes seriously!”

Unable to hold back, Cyrus starts snickering again, “TJ…”

“Don’t ‘TJ’ me! Not when you keep winter gloves and hats in your bag constantly.”

“You never know when you could need them!”

“Cy…it’s May.”

“My point still stands. Did you know once it snowed during a week in August, which is typically the hottest time of the year in Shadyside?”

TJ smiles, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to the top of Cyrus’s head.

“You’re so smart,” he says, “and adorable.”

Once more, a blush heats up Cyrus’s face, this time spreading to the tips of his ears. Before he can get even more red, he grabs his bag and pulls TJ out the door with him.

They decide to walk to the park since Cyrus’s house has no sort of basketball hoop (of course), and TJ’s house is further away. Sure enough, the sunlight spreads across them. The sky is so blue it looks like a swatch of blue paint you find at a home improvement store. The air smells like cotton and blossoming flowers. Although the telltale signs of spring linger everywhere, the tops of the mountains remain capped with snow.

When they arrive at the outdoor basketball courts, there’s hardly anyone else there. Cyrus sighs in relief, grateful that no one will see him utterly fail at basketball, but he has to at least try. Honestly, Cyrus thought he’d just be able to ignore the comments. There aren’t many, nor are they usually stated cruel or outright, but Cyrus knows what they mean.

“Oh, this is your boyfriend! He doesn’t look like a sports guy.”

“Cyrus, good to see you again. We’d invite you to come, but we know you can’t do this kind of stuff.”

“You should really learn some more about sports since TJ is so interested in them.”

“Us basketball guys love to talk sports with each other all the time when we hang out. What do you two do?”

Cyrus knows that he isn’t the type of guy a person like TJ would normally go for. In fact, Cyrus has been doubting himself a lot more recently. Maybe it’s because of the comments, but what if the comments are right? What if it’s a good thing that he heard them? After all, TJ seems to try and urge him to do more sporty things a lot more now than he used to. What if TJ wants someone who can talk and play sports with him?

So today, when Cyrus’s was awake with his thoughts, hand running through TJ’s hair, he made up his mind. He needs to learn to play basketball because he can’t lose this. He can’t lose one of the best things to ever happen to him.

“Okay, I’m going to teach you how to shoot today,” TJ begins, pulling out a fully inflated basketball from his bag just like he said.

TJ bounces the ball a few times. Meanwhile, Cyrus watches in awe as he dribbles without thinking. Making sure Cyrus is watching, TJ shoots the ball from where he stands. Not only is it a far distance, but it goes in without even hitting the rim. A perfect shot, as Buffy once told him.

“How are you so good?” Cyrus asks genuinely.

“I’m really not that good,” TJ answers, rubbing the back of his neck. “Besides, anyone can get good with enough practice!”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

TJ smiles softly, picking up the ball from the spot it rolled to. He comes up to Cyrus, handing him the ball. Cyrus stares at it, trying to mimic TJ’s position. Of course, he has absolutely no clue what he’s doing. TJ reaches behind him to adjust his hand position and stance. At this spot on the court, the basket is pretty close, but Cyrus still doesn’t know if he has enough strength to make it.

“Use this arm to shoot. The other arm is just for support,” TJ explains.

Once TJ gets him in the correct position, he steps back so Cyrus can try shooting. Cyrus has never felt so uncomfortable in his life. He never realized just how complex shooting a single basket could be, yet all of these players can do it in seconds. Shakily, Cyrus shoots with all his strength, not really thinking about aim. He stumbles back after he throws it.

The basketball soars straight past the net. At least it was high enough. Cyrus looks over his shoulder worriedly at TJ, gnawing his lip. Luckily, TJ doesn’t look upset, he simply jogs after the stray ball and picks it up from the grass.

“That was good for your first try!” TJ says, handing the ball back to him. “Let me show you how to aim better, though.”

They spend the next half hour trying to get Cyrus to shoot a basket. Cyrus feels like a lost cause at one point. Although TJ is patient with him, Cyrus thinks he can even see TJ wearing thin with Cyrus missing shot after shot. Every time Cyrus fails, he feels more frustrated with himself. Soon, he’s just shooting randomly with all his strength, hoping that he can get it in the basket by pure chance.

“Maybe we should try again tomorrow,” TJ suggests.

Sweat beads across Cyrus’s brow. He reaches to wipe it off with the back of his hand. The anger that’s been building in him courses through his bloodstream. He shakes his head, snatching the ball out of TJ’s grasp.

“No, I have to do this,” Cyrus argues, getting in position once more to shoot the ball.

TJ sighs, stepping forward, “Cy, you’re exhausted, and it’s hot out. It’s alright, you’ll be better with a fresh head tomorrow.”

He reaches for the ball, but Cyrus jerks away.

“I need to do this today!” Cyrus shouts. “I have to get this right.”

“Please, Cyrus—”

So fueled by his anger, Cyrus rips the ball away from TJ again and throws it at the basket as hard as he can. In doing so, though, he ends up tripping over his own feet from the force. TJ tries to catch him but can’t grab him in time. Cyrus falls hard onto the court, elbows and knees skidding across the pavement and chin bumping the ground.

Stinging pain erupts after he falls. His tongue tastes like blood. He must have bitten it. His chin throbs, and his elbows and knees burn angrily.

“Oh my god!” TJ gasps, kneeling by his side. “Are you okay?”

With all of his emotions and now the pain, Cyrus becomes overwhelmed. Before he can help it, tears start dripping down his cheeks and landing on the court below.

“Come here,” TJ whispers comfortingly, tugging Cyrus up into a sitting position.

He wraps his arms around the crying boy and tucks him into his chest, careful to mind Cyrus’s injuries. Cyrus bunches his fists in the fabric of TJ’s shirt and cries softly. Meanwhile, TJ just holds him close and rocks him gently, one hand running up and down his back to help soothe him. On the pavement below them, he sees splotches of Cyrus’s blood.

“Hey, hey,” TJ shushes. “What’s wrong?”

Cyrus pulls back with a sniffle. “It’s stupid, I’m sorry. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid! Please, just tell me. I know it’s not just your scrapes.”

Cyrus nods, going to stand up, but he winces and his knee buckles. TJ makes sure to catch him this time before he clips the pavement again. Shakily, Cyrus regains his balance. He glances down at his arms and legs. Both his knees and elbows are torn apart, blood slowly trickling from the wounds. His touches his chin; it isn’t bleeding, but he has a feeling there will be a mark.

“Let’s talk about this after we get you patched up, okay?” TJ confirms.

Although his wounds sting, Cyrus can walk to his house with not many issues. TJ hovers close behind just in case. When they finally make it back, TJ immediately pushes Cyrus down on the sofa while he goes to scavenge Cyrus’s house for a first aid kit. Of course, since it’s Cyrus, the first aid kit isn’t difficult to find. He rushes back downstairs with it and sits beside him.

“I need to clean them,” TJ says, taking Cyrus’s leg and putting it in his lap.

Then, he gingerly begins wiping at his scrapes with antibacterial wash. Cyrus jerks at the burning sensation.

“I’m sorry, but we have to make sure it doesn’t get infected,” TJ apologizes.

“It’s ok.”

After the worst part is over, TJ begins applying Neosporin and bandaging his wounds up. While he’s doing this, Cyrus stares vacantly at the wall.

“What’s going on?” TJ wonders. “I’m worried about you.”

Cyrus sighs. “I just…a few people at school have said some things, and it made me realize that I’m not sporty in the least bit. Like, you love basketball and other sports, but I can’t even understand what’s going on. Any type of physical activity I can’t even do, really. And I don’t know, it just made me feel guilty because you deserve to date someone who you can do that kind of stuff with since you like it.”

TJ frowns, scooting in closer to Cyrus’s side. He meets Cyrus’s eyes and reaches over to cup his face with one hand.

“Cyrus, I may like sports, but I also like you. I have plenty of people to talk sports stuff with. So many, in fact, that it can get annoying. Plus, I love doing other stuff with you, no matter what it is. We could just sit in complete silence and do our homework, and I’d like it because you’d be there. You don’t need to try and impress me by trying to be a pro basketball player. That’s not who you are, and that’s okay, because I like Cyrus Goodman for who he is.”

“Really?” Cyrus asks shyly, tilting his face downward.

TJ puts a finger under his chin to tilt it back up. “Really.”

Then, TJ brings him into a gentle kiss, lips brushing. Cyrus melts into the kiss, moving his arm to wrap around TJ’s back.

Maybe basketball isn’t meant for Cyrus, but TJ certainly is.

[otome--fantasy]

Of Demons and Dragons

Ikemen Sengoku Imagine: Being able to turn into a dragon.

Ch.2

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of suspected rape, lord help Mitsuhide you just might kill him, I feel like this chapter falls a bit flat, but it isn't a very action packed chapter so what did I expect? 🤷🏽‍♀️ I hope you all still enjoy!

When you awoke, you opened your eyes to see the artistry of your rooms cieling. Everything was oddly bright and you gazed around your room to find your balcony doors wide open to allow the sunlight in. You growled, the sunlight made twice as harsh in your weakend state and brought on a small headache. Your attention shot to the doors that lead into the hallway when they opened, revealing Ieyasu with a bowl of steaming water and stack of towels with some odd container on top. He stood there silent and in shock - you shouldn't be awake yet, it had only been about 4 hours since Nobunaga and his army arrived back with your battered body. The medics at the camp had done what they chould to patch you up, but you had lost so much blood, you were so cold, and your breath had been so weak - he had predicted you would sleep two or three days at least and then be bed ridden for the next couple weeks. You attempted to sit up, but the pain along your side and back kept you from moving too quickly.

"Stupid woman!" Ieyasu moved as quickly as he could without spilling the bowl of hot water. He put it down carefully next to your sleeping mat, along with the towels, "You shouldn't even be awake yet, let alone trying to get up!"

"What's going on?" At that moment Hideyoshi poked his head in, his eyes widening just as Ieyasu's had, "I though you said she would be down for a couple days?!"

"Yeah well, looks like she's up," Ieyasu gently, but firmly tried to push you back down to the mat, which was easy to do in your weakened and drowsy state. "I'll go tell Lord Nobunaga," Hideyoshi nodded before rushing to his masters quarters.

"Hideyoshi," Masamune was exiting the kitchen as Hideyoshi stormed passed, causing him to fumble back behind the rooms threshold so's not to get trampled, before he poked his head out again, "what happened?!"

Hideyoshi didn't bother turning back to look at Masmune, he merely shouted and waved a hand in the air as he continued on his way, "The princess is awake!"

"Already?!" Masamune looked in the direction Hideyoshi had come from before deciding he would see for himself. The one eyed warrior walked with haste to your room, finding the door still open and upon glancing in he saw you - attempting to fight off Ieyasu while he tried to keep you from standing. "Lass, I know you don't like being told what to do, but Ieyasu is the best at what he does, and you should listen to him!" Masamune joined Ieyasu in the room to help him restrain you, but the more you felt bound the more you hurt, and the more your hurt the more you began to panic.

"Get off of me!" You roared, mustering up enough strength to push Ieyasu and Masamune across the room in opposite directions. Ieyasu crashed into the hallway wall and Masamune managed to catch the railing before he could topple over it from the force. The both of them had widely different emotions on their face - Ieyasu felt annoyance more than anything, and next was confusion as to how you managed to throw him across the room; Masamune looked...excited, shocked, and utterly giddy that you were strong enough to almost throw him over the railing, and all while you weren't feeling well.

Masamune straightened his clothes and sauntered back into the room like nothing happened, "The Princess seems to be much better already."

Ieyasu scoffed, "She's no where near better," he briskly made his way back to you and kneeled to meet you at eye level, "Look," he sounded stirn, much like a mother who had enough of a child who refused to behave, "I need to change your bandages and reapply the salve every few hours, or else your injuries could get infected."

"He's just trying to help you, Lass," you hadn't realized Masamune mirror Ieyasu and join you at your side opposite to the blond, till he spoke and placed a hand on your shoulder - to which you flinched and hissed at. He quickly removed his hand and backed away, "Sorry!"

"You idiot!" Ieyasu tried to slap the other man away before he carefully removed the bandaged on your shoulders and 'tsked'. The sutures he closed your wounds with hadn't been opened, thank goodness, but he would have to inform the others to be careful with you. Ieyasu turned to Masamune, who had been watching his work intently, "Can you leave?"

Masamune looked at Ieyasu questioningly, before remembering what the blond had come in for, "Oh, right!" He left the room quickly and closed the door behind him.

Ieyasu rolled his eyes, before turning back to tend to you. When he looked you were glaring at him, "Oh, don't give me that," he opened the case resting in the towles to reveal the sengoku period equivalent of a first aid kit- or a crash box, depends on how dire he thought your condition would be when he got back.

"I was the one who stitched you up, gave you medicine, and re-bandaged you when you got back." Well you couldn't argue with that, and though you still wanted to smack him, you did owe him one now. Ieyasu used a pair of scissors to cut off your old bandages, being careful to peel away the bits that rested over your actual wounds. You looked to see what he was doing when you felt a small tug over your injuries as he removed the gauze. You hadn't realized you had indeed needed a change of bandages till you saw the dark brown stains on the woven material.

Once he had removed the wrap completely, you heard the sound of water being disturbed. Ah, the water has been to clean the area around your wounds. You had though you must have had a fever earlier, or that you were too cold for them to be comfortable with.

"How long was I out?" You broke the silence.

"Hm?' He sounded confused by your wording at first.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Only a few hours, four or five at the most after Lord Nobunaga brought you back," he gently rubbed circles around each of your wounds, the warm water and soothing motions felt nice on your sore skin, "You know, you're handling this very well compared to even our most promising vassals."

You simply shrugged, doing your best to brush off his suspicions, "Guess I'm just resilient."

"Hardly," he scoffes, thinking you were more patting yourself on the back than trying to get the subject over with, "I honestly didn't think you were going to make it when you came back."

Thanks for the vote of confidence, jackass. His voice sounded more snooty than anything to you, like he was just trying to have the last word in this conversation.

You heard the water slosh around in the bowl when he dipped a new towel to clean the wounds on your side, an effort you helped him in by raising your arm slightly to move it out of his way, "Thanks, Ieyasu."

Ieyasu paused and you internally punched your pride in the face before rephrasing, "Thank you, for all this."

The blond continued what he was doing - finishing cleaning around your injuries before he put both the dirty towles back in the bowl and got a dry one to clean off the excess water, "Don't thank me, it's my job, my duty for Azuchi castle and the Oda forces."

You huffed at him being difficult, "Yes, but you didn't have to tend to me yourself, we haven't quite gotten along since I arrived, and I'm sure you have other healers in the castle who you could have passed me off to- but you chose to take care of me yourself. That's why I'm thanking you."

Ieyasu remained silent for a while, finishing drying you off so he could apply some fresh salve, "Your welcome."

Meanwhile, in the hall, Masamune had been standing just outside your door to wait, till he was joined by Nobunaga and Hideyoshi.

"She is awake already?" Masamune whipped around to see his raven haired master standing just behind him. "Yes," Masamune bowed slightly to him, "Ieyasu was very surprised."

Nobunaga attempted to step around Masamune, but he stopped him, "Ieyasu is changing her bandages right now, I'm sure he will let us in when he's done."

"What's this?" Hideyoshi was looking at the wall Ieyasu had made contact with when you threw him. He placed a hand on it and examined the indentation. "Oh," Masamune chuckled a bit, "Ah, you see..." Hideyoshi looked at the one eyed warrior with a raised brow, while Nobunaga held a deadpan expression.

"You see, the princess panicked a bit after she woke up when Ieyasu and I were trying to force her to lay back down," he cleared his throat, "And she short of, uh..." he wasn't sure how to phrase it without it sounding outrageous, so he just came out and said it, "She threw the both of us across the room." He shrugged, "I nearly fell over the edge of the balcony."

Both Hideyoshi and Nobunaga blinked in a dumbfounded manor before turning to look at eachother, "My Lord," Hideyoshi's expression quickly returned to being serious, "She's clearly hiding something."

Nobunaga frowned, "What do you mean?" It was at that moment that Ieyasu opened the doors to your room and took his leave, "You all can go in now, but be careful with her or her stitches will open!" The blond was mostly looking at Masamune as he did tend to be more gun-ho than all the others.

"What happened?!" Was the first thing that left Hideyoshi's mouth as he entered the room. You didn't answer, you simply remained laying down, staring at the ceiling with an irritated expression on your face. "Hideyoshi," Nobunaga reprimanded his right-hand. When the brunette had calmed you turned to look at the three men, watching as Nobunaga took a seat on the pillow Ieyasu had left, while Masamune and Hidayoshi joined him at either side.

"How did this happen," Nobunaga asked calmly.

"I was chased by soldiers who thought I was you," you stated simply. The three of them looked at you expectantly and you sighed deeply, "I fell off my horse and some enemy soldiers thought I was you, so they took the opportunity to try and shoot me. I ran for the woods and used the trees as cover, but they followed me, and kept shooting at me."

That explained how you had so many arrow wounds but, "How did you end up in the forest clearing without your clothes?" Nobunaga was wondering what else they did to you. You thought for a moment, trying to think of a way to explain that wouldn't expose you or make you sound crazy. Hideyoshi spoke up, "Did they do anything...else to you?"

Ah. They were wondering if the men had realized you weren't Nobunaga and had laid hands on you. You looked to the ground to think, before sparing a glance at the three men for a brief second. The three of them were both so stiff, and they didn't show it on their faces but you could feel their anger. The room was thick with tension, "No I-"

"Lass," you'd never seen Masamune look so serious, his tone and the look in his eye almost made your hair stand on end, "What did they do to you?"

"I don't remember," was all you could think of to say. Of course it was a lie, you remembered everything - being chased, getting shot at, hiding in the lake, nearly killing the men who chased you, seeing Nobunaga cut down the enemy commander, and finally waiting in the clearing for help to arrive- but you couldn't tell them that.

The three men looked at eachother with grim expressions, assuming the worst. "It's okay, princess," Hideyoshi placed a hand on your head and patted it, giving you a strained smile, before standing along with Masamune and Nobunaga, "You rest now, Mitsunari will be in to check on you later."

You quietly nodded and watched them leave your room and close the door behind them. You let out a deep breath. That had been intense... With a wince, you slowly propped yourself up on your elbows before carefully sitting up in your sleeping mat. You pat yourself down cautiously - it wouldn't take long for you to heal, especially with how well Ieyasu stitched you up. Thanks to what you were, you healed faster than any normal human. Ieyasu predicted you would wake up in two or three days minimum, you predict you would be back to top condition in two to three days, and it would certainly raise more questions.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of knocking on your cieling and you swiftly wrapped your blanket around you, "Sasuke?"

"Yes, it's me," Sasuke opened the cieling panel and silently slipped out from it, landing gracefully on his feet in a crouching position. "I heard you had been dragged off to war with Nobunaga, and I came to see if you were alright."

You moved your blanket slightly, showing that your upper half was completely wrapped in bandages, "I was chased and shot twenty one times by enemy forces..."

"How did you-"

"They chased me because they thought I was Nobunaga, but once I was under the cover of the forest, I turned, and took refuge in a lake. I was shot when I tried to scare them off."

Sasuke's face held regret, "I apologize. I should have tried to get you out of here the first night."

"Sasuke," he paused in his ramblings when you called his name.

"Nobunaga came looking for me when everything was over. He had a search party comb the fields and the woods- said they weren't going home till I was found." Sasuke said nothing to this, he merely averted his gaze to the ground.

"There is not a doubt in my mind that, if you would have taken me, he would have turned all of Azuchi upsidedown looking for me. And then you would have been caught- or worse. Dead." Sasuke nodded in agreement with your reasoning.

"Why would he take you to battle with him? Does he know what you are?" Sasuke glanced back up at you to look you in the eye.

"No," you chuckled, "He thinks the odds should have been against me the night I saved him at Honno-ji, and yet I dragged," with air quotations, "him out unscathed. He thinks I'm lucky."

"So he thought if he took you with him, he would surely be victorious," Sasuke concluded.

"Yes," you nodded, "Not that he needed me," you waved off the thought, "He was against men who couldn't tell the difference between him and a woman so," you shrugged slightly, the pull from your stitches preventing you from being more dramatic, "I doubt they would have been much of a challenge either way."

"What did you do to them? If you don't mind my asking?" Sasuke looked at you questioningly, though his expression held more concern than anything else.

"Nothing," you raised a brow at him and there was a brief moment of silence, "Like I said earlier, I changed and scared them off. My mother taught me better than to kill and maim humans who don't know any better."

Now both his brows were raised and you shook your head, waving the statement off, "Story for another time, besides, it's not me those men have to worry about right now."

Sasuke took a step closer, "What do you mean?"

"Nobunaga, Masamune, and Hideyoshi were just in here and they asked me about what happened. Sasuke, they found me in the woods injured, bloody, naked, I must have looked like I was near death to them." You breathed, giving him a chance to process what you just said, "And they're wondering if the men did anything else to me other than just shoot me with arrows."

It didn't take long for it to click with Sasuke what may have gone through their minds, "Oh."

"And with them trying to keep up the guise that I'm some kind of royalty?"

"Not to mention that Nobunaga truly believes you are his Lucky Charm-" The pieces were coming together for Sasuke, "Those soldiers just might pay for what they've done with their lives..."

"Yes, which is why I thought it best to just tell them that I couldn't remember anything," you nodded in agreement, "That and I can't just tell them I chased them off by turning into a dragon."

"Right well, do you remember what they looked like? Maybe I could warn them or take them somewhere safe?" Sasuke couldn't see any way this would end well.

"Don't bother," you assured him, "the fight is over, and if they run now it will just raise suspicion."

There was a knock on the door, and you turned to look, "Milady?"

Mitsunari.

"Are you decent?"

By the time you turned around to tell Sasuke to leave, he was already gone and the ceiling panel had been closed. You cleared your throat before replying, "As decent as I can be without moving all too much."

The silver haired man took that as an okay to come in. He was stunned to see you sitting up and wrapped in your blanket, "Milady, should you really be sitting up?" He rushed to your side with worry.

"I'm fine, Mitsunari," you smiled up at him, before looking down to his hand and noticing he brought a tray with two mugs, "Tea?"

"Oh, yes," he carefully placed the tray on the floor before sitting down on the pillow Ieyasu left after tending to you, "It's lavender and chamomile," he wrapped the hot mug in a small rag before handing it off to you, "I thought you may get a bit antsy staying all cooped up in this room, so I was hoping this would calm your nerves."

You smelled the tea, the subtle scent of both herbs wafting into your nose and making you hum. Tea also naturally held a more 'earthy' (for lack of a better word) scent to it that made you feel more relaxed, "Thank you, Mitsunari, your very thoughtful."

He smiled and nodded politely, "Thank you Princess," he wrapped his mug in another rag and brought it up to drink, "Anything to make this trying time easier to bare."

You took a sip, the tea, like any other, tastes predominantly like water with an unidentifiable flavor from the herbs that gave it its color and smell, "Oh this would be wonderful with some honey..."

"Pardon?" Mitsunari hadn't quite caught what you said and raised a brow. You briefly wondered if the people of the Sengoku period ate honey like the people of the future. Did they have the honey stored in jars and bottles? Or did they just eat it straight from the comb?

"Nothing," you dismissed your statement with another smile, "I'm feeling very relaxed already."

"Wonderful!" Mitsunari took another sip of his tea before slowly standing up, leaving the tray for you to place your cup on when you were done with it, "As nice as it would be to sit here with you, Milady, all day- I do have a lot of work to get done." He gave you a sympathetic look.

"It's fine, I'm sure there is much to do after a battle."

"Indeed," he bowed to you before heading to the door, "And If you are feeling up to it later, Lord Nobunaga will be holding a council to discuss and debrief what happened in last nights revolt. Ieyasu suggests against you leaving your room, but as the council will involve no strenuous activity, he admits that it would not be impossible for you to attend." He cleared his throat. That was a mouthful, "Again that is if you are feeling well enough."

You pursed your lips, "I'll think about it."

He nodded again, before opening the sliding doors to leave and closing them behind him. Should you go to the council? You're sure the only reason why they would invite you was because they wanted more information on what happened to you in the woods. Perhaps even descriptions of faces. They couldn't let it get out that rival soldiers managed to get their hands on and hurt a princess from the Oda bloodline. Of course you could just say no and avoid the whole thing, but then they might start a witchhunt for the men. With a sigh you took a sip of tea and placed your hand on your head. Perhaps it was just best you go and straighten things out...to an extent.

Once you finished your tea, you stood from your sleeping mat, making your way over to your closet where you kept all the kimonos you had been gifted. Picking the one with the most simple design and not made of such expensive material, you slid it on like a bathrobe and tied it around your waist before walking over to the open balcony doors to stand outside.

The sun immediately warmed your skin, and it felt good to walk around; had you not had stitches you would have loved to stretch. You leaned forward on to the railing and looked out to the castle grounds below as well as the city. The people walking around and going about their day below, only helped to remind you of your current situation- you had been restricted before, after this, would they even allow you to leave the building? Oh how you wished you could go out for a flight right now. The whether was nice, clear, sunny, and warm with a light breeze.

You hadn't realized you'd closed your eyes till they snapped open from suprise due to a loud resounding knock on your rooms doors. You whipped around, just as they slid open to reveal that snake of a man, Mitsuhide. You raised a brow at him.

"Ah, Princess!" He feigned a sickly sweet voice, "Since your up and about, I assume you're well enough to attend the council."

"Save your attempts at trapping and coaxing me, Mitsuhide," you walked back into your room, closing the balcony doors behind you before approaching the white haired fox, "I've already long decided I'm attending."

"Aren't you going to change into something more presentable?" He smiled mischievously, thinking you had forgotten what you were wearing.

"And risk getting blood on those nice kimonos?" You paused in the doorway to raise a brow mockingly at him, "Heavens no," before continuing on your way to the council room. A chuckle left Mitsuhide's lips as he followed after you, quickly catching up to you to join you at your side, "So what really happened in those woods, hm?"

"Why, Mitsuhide, I never took you as one for gossip," you giggled at his expense, "I thought you were more of the facts and damning evidence type."

You, for the first time since you arrived, saw a suprised look cross his face, "Oh?" And the smile was back, "Whatever gave you that impression?"

"I dunno," you shrugged as you approached the council room, "Perhaps it's the way you're always slithering," you stopped infront of the sliding doors and turned to look at your escort, before taking a step towards him, "slinking," another step towards him till you were but a breath away, "and stalking about."

Mitsuhide was another one that got on your nerves. While Ieyasu just always seemed to look down on you and was outwardly vocal about it, Mitsuhide was actively a threat to your secret, and you won't be found out until your good and ready. "Where I'm from," you tilt you head up to look at his smileless face, "They say- curiosity killed the cat," your eyes drift down to examine him before bringing your gaze back up, "or in this case the snake."

"Careful," you spoke lowly as you slowly brought your hand up to caress the side if his face, brushing your thumb gently along his bottom lip, "not to get skinned alive." You grinned, giving him him a light pat on the cheek, before drawing your hand away, swiftly turning to the sliding doors, opening them, and entering.

Mitsuhide let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding after you left him, and he felt the odd need to compose himself eventhough nothing was really out of place. Never, in his years of working for Nobunaga and gathering information had he ever felt so threatened.

"You came alone?" Hideyoshi seemed confused when you entered the council room by yourself, "Where is Mitsuhide?"

You brushed a lock of hair behind your ear and politely smiled, holding your hands together infront of you, "Oh he's just outside the door taking breather. It was a long trek- going to my room and back." With a small nod of your head you continued to take your seat next to Nobunaga, and as if on cue Mitsuhide entered the room and wordlessly took his assigned seat.

"Ah, Mitsuhide," Nobunaga chuckled, "glad you could join us, now we can start with the debriefing."

"Yes my Lord," Mitsunari opened the scroll he had been holding, which held a list of reporters and updates he'd been gathering since you and Nobunaga returned. "New's has traveled fast of your return, as well as the news of having personally handled and quashed last night's revolt with only a fourth of the men." Mitsunari took a breath before continuing, "Our enemies have been relieved of their weapons, armor, and have been banned from practicing any form of combat. They are, from here on out, to be strictly a community of farmers."

Nobunaga nodded along, everything had gone according to plan so far, "Whispers of revolt from other villages have almost completely disappeared."

"Almost?" Nobunaga didn't like that news.

"Ah, yes," Mitsunari cleared his throat, "It seems word has also gotten out that... The Oda clan princess was on the battlefield with you, and," he stuttered slightly, "Uh, that she did not emerge unscathed. That her condition was dire and while most are wishing her a well and swift recovery. And pardon my words, my Lord, I am merely reading the report- others are beginning to questioning our Lords capability to continue to protect them."

"My Lord," Hideyoshi spoke up, trying to utter his next words carefully, "With all due respect, I warned you it was unwise to bring her along."

Nobunaga opened his mouth to answer back before Mitsunari spoke up again, "There is, one other report, my Lord." All attention was brought back to the white and purple clad warlord, "There are reports from the village that participated in the revolt, that they have grown weary of the nearby woods."

Oh boy.

"Some of the ex-vassals are saying they witnessed a beast, in the forest during our battle." Brows rose all around the room, except for yours of course.

"A beast?" Nobunaga mocked, "Well I would think so, the woods are full of all sorts of wild animals. I wouldn't be suprised if a group of them had planned to flank us, only to come face to face with a bear, or a mountain lion-"

"Perhaps a tiger," Masamune chuckled.

"Yes, well," Mitsunari swallowed, "for the villagers sake, the scout asked for descriptions of this 'beast' incase it got too close to town and posed as a threat to their lives in the future."

"And?" Now Mitsuhide's interest had been peaked. He briefly glanced to you before looking back to Mitsunari.

"Only four men who were in the forest that night were able to give descriptions at all." Hidayoshi and Masamune both straightened at Mitsunari's words - the woods were where you had been found, and where you said you were chased.

"They described a serpent-like beast, long and scaled, that towered over the tree tops and walked on four legs. It had antlers like a deer and the face of a demon, could glide through the air. And it also... Breathed. Fire." At the end of Mitsunari's reading Masamune burst out laughing, an unpleased frown rested on Hideyoshi's face, Nobunaga held a smirk, Ieyasu shook his head in disbelief that people would spin such tails, you remained stoic, and Mitsuhide kept his sharp snake eyes on you.

"A dragon?" Masamune reiterated through struggled breathes from his laughing, "They think they saw a dragon?"

"If you don't mind my asking, Princess," you looked at Mitsuhide through the corner of your eye as he spoke, "How many men had chased you into the woods?" He must have heard what happened from Hideyoshi, Masamune, or Nobunaga.

"Four," you answer simply.

"Did you see anything, Milady?" He smiled like a cat who ate the canary.

"Other than the men who nearly killed me? No."

"Really?" He poked and prodded.

"Mitsuhide," Hideyoshi tried to reprimand the informant.

"Yes," you turned and looked at him, "I didn't see a damn thing- I was too busy getting shot, and bleeding out to see anything. Maybe a hallucination or two, but nothing of note. Besides are you really going to believe what these men think they saw when they couldn't even tell the difference between me and your Lord." You giggled at the expense of soldiers who couldn't be there to defend themselves, "Perhaps it was some old toppled tree they saw," you tried to reason with the snake.

"Yes they did leave you in a bad way," you rolled your eyes at him as he didn't seem to be stopping any time soon, "How are you feeling by the way? Ieyasu said your condition was critical when you arrived, yet here you are- up and about, walking, talking, awake."

"Yes, as Masamune said before in private, Ieyasu is the best at what he does," you weren't about to let him corner you, "I guess he's just a miracle worker."

"Mitsuhide what are you trying to prove?" Nobunaga was becoming a bit impatient.

"Even then, most soldiers that come back in the condition you did don't recover this fast if at all, even with Ieyasu as their healer," Mitsuhide glanced at the blond, "Just speaking from experience," before looking back to you.

"This is true," Ieyasu agreed.

"I guess I'm just a fast healer, perhaps my family is gifted," you shrugged, "And speaking of the other vassals," you decided it's best not to entertain Mitsuhide less you share too much information or let your emotions get the best of you. "I was wondering if Ieyasu would allow me to tend to my own wounds." You look to the blond in question with a polite smile on your face, "If I truly am healing at an exceptional rate, I feel it's only fair that you spend the time you are wasting on me, with those who actually need you."

His brows furrowed at your question, "What? Are you crazy?" Now he sounded frustrated with you, "You're sporting some serious injuries, what are you going to do about the wounds on your back?"

"I'll figure something out." To be honest, you thought 24 hours from now, the wounds would be superficial, then they would have another day to close and scar, and then finally all traces would be gone by the end of the day after that.

"Back to the matter at hand," Nobunaga was tired if this meeting getting terribly off track, "If we were able to line up the men of the village we defeated," he turned to look at you, "Would you be able to identify the four who attacked you?"

You turned your gaze away from Ieyasu to give Nobunaga your attention, "I mean, maybe, yeah-"

"Excellent."

"Wait no!" You waved your hands infront of him, "We should just leave them be!"

The others in the room turned to you, gobsmacked, "And let men who assaulted you get away?" Hideyoshi scoffed, "I pegged you as the type who would prefer to get payback for what they've done? You've come after us for far less."

"I know-" you needed to nip this in the bud as soon as you could. If they questioned these men they would say they never saw a woman in the woods, "but I have to live with you all, it's different. And besides, they've obviously been spooked," you looked to the others as if to reason with them, "So spooked that they're conjuring tales of beasts and demons- they aren't going around telling people they got the best if an Oda princess. Maybe we could use these stories to our advantage?" Maybe you should appeal to their more tactical side.

Silence.

"They already think Nobunaga is some type of Demon Diamyo, so why not play the part? Let the people think these rumors of a beast aren't just fiction." You stood before walking behind the Lord you were referring to and placed your hands on his shoulders, crouching behind him so your lips were leveled with his ear, "Imagine if you will."

"Your enemies thinking you actually have a dragon, of all things, at your command now," you swayed to his other ear, "They'd call you a king."

Nobunaga turned to look at you with a cocky smile, "And here I thought Mitsuhide was the only snake in the room."

You snickered shooting a sharp glance at the white-haired warlord, before standing up straight and heading for the council room doors to leave, "Besides, if you silence the men who have only expressed nothing but fear for their safety, what would your people say about you then?" You made sure to drive your point home, by slamming the doors shut behind you.

[aconitemare]

[jaydick] Before That, And Colder

Chapter Three

Previous Chapter

AO3

A large mirror — a looking glass — or so it seemed to me — now stood where it had not been before. As I walked toward it in terror I saw my own form, all spotted with blood, its face white, advancing to meet me with a weak and uncertain step. 

  Four knocks sound at the door, quick and heavy, impatient: Suzie Su. Jason glances up from his book, a collection of Poe’s works mailed to him from Wayne Enterprises, Office of Bruce Wayne, C.E.O. It’s no library book — an expensive collectible, probably, judging by the silver-edged pages, embossed cover, and massive size. Jason is more tolerable of this gift, however, compared to the first edition volumes of Great Expectations sitting in a box in his bedroom closet. Sometimes he has the urge to bring them outside, douse them in kerosene, and roast marshmallows over them. He once got as far as unearthing the box and running his hand gently over the topmost volume, registering its rough texture beneath his weathered palm, before he lost his momentum and tucked the box away again. 

“What is it?” he calls out. The doorknob jiggles. “It’s locked,” he drawls, tipping his chair back a little with his toes. Upside down, he looks out the wall-to-wall windows behind him. The final dredges of sunlight bruise the Atlantic Ocean purple. 

Suzie Su kicks the door futilely. “No kidding,” she gripes. 

Jason sits back upright. He shifts the paperweight off his open book, moves to close it, and is promptly reminded of the photos spread across the desk. They’re why he had begun reading. He had grabbed a book off his shelf and slammed it down, burying the bodies. Now, dead boys stare up at him, their dark hair rusted with blood and their hollow bones crunched. They look like crows, like a murder, infused with tragedy and beating broken wings. 

“What do you want?” he asks roughly, eyes transfixed but mouth still — as always, he knows — moving ahead of him. He needs to get these out of his sight or he’ll lose his mind. 

“Well, it’s not a social call,” replies Suzie Su. 

“Be right there,” promises Jason. He shoves the photos into the book, crushing his doppelgangers between the final pages of William Wilson. Then he bats the book away, towards the corner of his desk for later.

Jason unlocks and opens the door to reveal Suzie Su in a plain, button-down shirt damp with sweat. It pools beneath her pits like dolphin fins halfway down her sides. He raises an eyebrow. “What, no little black dress?”

 “You don’t pay me to be beautiful, ass,” says Suzie Su, brushing past Jason into his office. 

“Shit, am I supposed to be paying you?” he jokes, watching her over his shoulder. He’s about to follow when James darkens his doorway next. James is less sweaty but sporting a badly busted lip. Of course, the interesting part is the man he’s got wrapped in his arms with a potato sack over his head. 

Jason spreads his palms in delight. “Oh, good, you’ve found someone for the internship,” he says with cheer. He cocks his head to check around James’ hulking form. “Any other incapacitated applicants? No?” He sighs and shakes his head remorsefully. “Low turnout.”

James just stares at him, unamused. Probably sour over the punch Potato Sack got in. “Let me in, please,” he says. Jason courteously steps aside, closing the door behind him. James immediately releases Potato Sack, who sags to his knees and leans against James’ leg for half a second before regaining his balance. He’s more conscious than Jason would have thought for a bound and gagged kidnap victim. 

Jason points at him. “Who’s the fool? He just come from the county fair’s three-legged race?” he inquires. Potato Sack is dressed nicely; his outfit is a tad disheveled, but there’s no blood or sweat on him, at least not from the neck down. His peachy pocket square is halfway out his paisley blazer. The cuffs are folded to his elbows, exposing muscular, nicely tanned forearms. 

Suzie Su flops into one of Jason’s chairs, the white leather one with too much cushion. “The sack came straight out of Big Guy’s car. I don’t even know,” she remarks. She sounds tired despite being uninjured, like she might’ve chased Potato Sack all the way here. 

Jason contemplates making a Karate Kid reference, something about chasing chickens, when James chimes in. “We can’t have suspicious figures knowing where your office is,” he justifies. “Especially right now with the — photographs,” he finishes, visibly uncomfortable.

Jason shrugs and shakes his head in amused mystification. “A suspicious figure?” he repeats, making a “so what?” gesture with his hand. “Is that all he is?”

James grimaces. “Not all. He’s weirdly… agile. Freakishly quick.”

Suzie Su laughs, a husky and wheezing sound in her current state. “Agile is right. He pirouetted James right in the face.” Pirouette, Jason thinks. The word spins into his mind, a flurry of movement, and then neatly halts on a striking thought. Jason turns his attention to the well-dressed man on his knees. 

Meanwhile, James is sending Suzie Su a glare across the room. “It was a roundhouse kick,” he corrects as if the name affords him more dignity. “Just a really spinny one. I don’t think he was actually even on the ground — ”

Impatient, Jason rips the sack off the man’s head. His jaw clenches so tightly he’s aware of the ache. Dick is noticeably unharmed, except for perhaps a small patch of dirt accentuating his sharp right cheekbone. His hair is in disarray, silky strands breaking from what once must have been perfectly molded curls to fall smoothly into his alert blue eyes. He looks more like a pampered socialite returning from a joyride with the windows down than a hostage. Dick blows a rich black lock of hair out of his eyes and gives a toothy grin that positively dazzles. “Hiya, Hood. Fancy seeing you here,” he greets and, for added impertinence, he even winks at Jason.

Claustrophobia looms over Jason’s back like an invisible but palpable enemy, breathing down his neck, crowding him against Dick and Bruce and Tim. He never should have contacted Tim, this was the respect they showed, the audacity. He has a flash of himself yanking Dick up by the throat and dangling him out a window, letting him drop to the icy ocean. Then he sees Dick’s golden face turn cold, eyes white and face pale, and the horrifying vision is gone just as fast. 

“Everybody out,” Jason orders. He feels stiff, his spine stiff, his voice stiff. He’s still staring at Dick, the smiling piece of work. Suzie Su stands up and lumbers towards the door, but James lingers. 

“Is he one of your, you know,” James starts out. He brings his fingers to his head and Jason knows he’s about to form little bat ears, but fortunately, James drops his hands to his side instead. James swallows dryly. “I’ll be outside.”

“Yeah, way outside,” Jason agrees sharply. “Outside the casino, if you can.”

Dick watches the two of them with glass-blown eyes. He smiles cheekily at James and says, “Maybe you can keep an eye on the parking lot, make sure no one touches Hood’s bike.”

James narrows his eyes at Dick but says nothing more. He turns around and stalks out the door, trailing after Suzie Su. “The door, ” Jason adds, mildly amused when James grabs the doorknob and slams the door shut. “Touchy,” Jason tuts. 

Dick springs to his feet and begins undoing the knot around his wrists. Jason just barely resists shoving him back to the floor. “What the hell, Dick!” he shouts. “What happened to the fucking parking lot!” he demands, waving his arms. 

Dick’s wrists come free, the rope falling to his feet in one final and fluid motion. “I got lost,” Dick says. He smoothes out his shirt, which draws Jason’s eyes properly to how the pink highlights the rosy warmth of his skin tone. He looks good.  

“Oh, my god,” Jason mutters, turning away from Dick and pinching the bridge of his nose. There’s tension building there, a volcanic tension Jason is always pushing down, keeping dormant. Stupid, stupid, letting the Bat in. He can only blame himself because if he blames Dick he’s going to go on a rampage, and anyway, holding the bats accountable has never worked for him before. 

“You know what,” he says after a moment wherein Dick wisely stays silent, “it’s my fault,” he informs, holding his palms up in surrender. “I, despite many opportunities to learn from my mistakes, entrusted your hegemonistic troupe with private information and somehow expected you to respect my rules.” Jason holds a hand over his heart and leans forward in apology, causing Dick to have to tilt his chin slightly upward. Jason stares intently at him, going for venomous sincerity as he says, “This is on me for thinking what I said matters to any of you psychos.”

Jason watches Dick blink owlishly at him. He’s still in Dick’s space, waiting for a response, when finally Dick smiles and pats him on the shoulder. “Woo!” he says, wiping his forehead, “Glad we got that over with! Very mature of you, Hood,” he chirps, stepping around Jason. Jason imagines grabbing him by the neck and holding him in place, pinning him still like one might do to a butterfly that lingers too long for safety. Jason does not do that.

Dick begins rooting through his desk, wiggling drawers to find they’re locked and checking beneath his Poe book like he’s in a clue game. Jason can’t help but release a weary sigh. Jason begins, “Would rather you just let me die, if we’re being hon — ”

“By the way, what you say does matter,” Dick abruptly interjects, looking up from another locked drawer to stare Jason down. Dick’s hair has fallen into his eyes again, providing a thin buffer between their gazes. Jason awkwardly shifts his weight and suspects, with some bitterness, that the terms of the mission have just switched hands. Then Dick is pushing his bangs out of his face and wrestling his curls out of their mold. “It’s just that your life matters more,” he explains, and the whole line is just so nonchalantly sentimental, so easily spoken, that Jason wants to throw them both out a window. At least Dick has stopped staring at him, and he looks like slightly less of a prick now that his hair is closer to its naturally relaxed wave. 

“The curls make you look gay,” Jason informs, trying not to pout like he’s sixteen again and Nightwing is refusing to partner up with him on a case. 

Dick smirks. “Those who live in glass casinos, Jay,” he retorts. “Feel like unlocking any of these for me?” he asks.

Jason crosses his arms. “Not particularly, no,” he replies, shaking his head. 

Dick twists his lips in irritation before, apparently, moving on, expression blasé. “That’s fine,” he dismisses. “What’s not fine is that security of yours,” he adds, unimpressed, as he scoops the Poe collection into his hands. Jason’s heart seizes in his chest.

“Hey!” he protests, marching towards Dick and reaching for the book. Dick’s shoulder cuts between them, blocking Jason off. 

“Your bruisers couldn’t land a real hit on me — and they just take me to you without, apparently, informing you ahead of time?” Dick criticizes. He’s sifting through the silvery pages now, fanning them with his thumb. “What if I had been your stalker? What then? They deliver me unto you where I’m free to shoot you point-blank?”

Stalker, Jason thinks, is a tad dramatic. “What, they didn’t pat you down?” he asks, already knowing they did. James is too paranoid not to and Suzie Su knows who lines her pockets. 

Dick purses his lips unhappily. The overall effect is charming against Jason’s will; it’s a beautiful mouth, full and fair, and easily admired when idle. But then his lips are framing around words, as they frequently are, and Jason has to focus. “Well, technically, yes, they checked me for weapons,” Dick admits. He holds a finger up and points at Jason’s chest. “But there are other ways of killing you.”

Jason pats his chest and then holds out his arms like wings. “And yet I am not dead. Security seems just fine to me.”

Dick’s expression sobers. Jason can barely keep up with Dick’s emotive face, the ups and downs of his duel humor and sincerity. “You’re not dead because there’s been no attempt. You’re the endgame and these boys are just,” language fails Dick here. 

“Pit stops?” Jason offers, raising both his eyebrows. Dick clearly doesn’t appreciate his word choice, because his brows knit and he turns his fine cheek further away from Jason. He wants to keep pushing, though, so he says, “How about appetizers?”

Dick has reached the end of the book, but before Jason can feel relief, he starts fanning the pages again. “Sure,” Dick concedes, albeit moodily. 

Jason leans against his deck and watches Dick flip through. He considers ripping the book out of his hands, but he doesn’t know if it’s worth the trouble, so he holds back and drums his fingers against the edge of the table, letting his anxiety bleed out through his tips. 

“Appetizer makes sense,” Jason proposes. “Sociopath like him, he likes to whet his hunger when he can, but he’ll never be full,” he explains, almost absently, his mind drifting away from the office and towards the ocean facing him, and across that ocean, too, all the way to his return to Gotham. He remembers his own hunger. 

He hears Dick slap a page down. Jason doesn’t bother looking; he knows Dick found the photographs. A tiny sigh escapes from Dick beside him. Jason glances at him from the corner of his eye, sees Dick tapping his fingers against a face, communing with some boy’s preserved pain. Jason looks away.

“Except he’s not ‘whetting’ anything,” Dick says. “These kids aren’t for his benefit. They’re for yours.” 

“None of these kids died,” offers Jason, partly as an agreement with Dick’s point, partly just to remind himself. They’re all alive. They’re breathing. They didn’t lose everything. 

Dick hikes himself up on the desk and sets the book down in his lap, legs pretzeled. The white slacks curve keenly around his thighs. “Makes sense for a reenactment, which the assailant’s going for. You didn’t die, after all.”

Jason’s jaw flexes. “I did.”

Dick does not respond, which Jason is grateful for. Having the photos open, their bodies inspected while he stands off to the side, is such a keen breach of privacy. He feels it like a direct violation, yet he knows better than to snatch the evidence from Dick’s hands. Dick always comes bounding back after a rebuttal, Exhibit A: this whole thing. The only way Dick would be gentler is if he needed to be, and Jason refuses to give him a reason. 

After a minute, Dick breaches the silence. “Full discretion?” he says. 

Jason hangs his head and braces himself. He’s never noticed before, but there are tiny fishes painted onto the ceiling. “Yeah?” he asks, figuring Dick is seeking permission, or whatever. 

“I watched the tapes.”

That gets Jason’s attention. He faces Dick whose fingers rest on the open pages, whose brow is furrowed in what must be guilt or nervousness. Jason opens his mouth, closes it, and then shakes his head. “What tapes, Dick?”

Dick taps his index finger on the first kid: Terry Weind. The name he learned from a news report the same day his picture was stuck to his bike. No pictures were released to the public, but Vale spared few details in her verbal description. Jason didn’t have to do much digging for the boy’s identity. He had shown up at the hospital with flowers, telling Terry’s mother that he was just a concerned citizen. He also told her that Gotham’s heart went out to her son, that there was a community right outside that hospital room, even if it felt the only souls around were her and her son’s. He hopes she believes it better than he does. 

“B has had Park Row Memorial recorded around the clock for years. He has — every one of the attacks on camera. We watched them while he was prepping me for this case.” Dick says this like it’s a confession and Jason has the power to pardon him. 

Jason nearly scoffs. “Yeah, well, it’s your job,” he says instead. If he was stronger, Jason would hold this breach of privacy against him. He would take advantage of the one aspect in all of this that Dick appears penitent for. He should be sorry. Dick got to watch not just three kids brutally beaten, exploited helplessly, he got to watch Jason. Jason had to experience his death completely alone and now he had to experience it again on a stage. Neither Bruce nor Dick were there for him as partners, but they are here as an audience. Jason’s grave has been violated by more than just a hooded figure in an alleyway, but Jason does not have the energy to be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have the energy to give Dick what he wants.  

“So, what’s the plan?” asks Jason, propping his elbows on the desk. Dick doesn’t answer, so Jason says, “You must have one since you went to all the trouble of getting James to deliver you personally to my office like a sack of potatoes.”

“Who keeps a potato sack on them, by the way?” Dick asks. Jason shrugs. “That’s just weird,” Dick comments. 

“Yeah, he’s kind of weird,” Jason agrees. “But so is everyone in your corner. Those who live in glass batcaves should not throw batarangs?” he asks, irony lacing his words.

“Wingdings, actually,” Dick corrects, which reminds Jason of the Microsoft font and he wonders if Dick’s stupidity is contagious. He’d hate to start calling his guns ‘bat-barrels’ or ‘Times New Hoodlum.’ “Also, the plan might just take place in the aforementioned glass house,” Dick adds. 

Jason shakes his head. “You’ve lost me.”

Dick sighs, the perfect picture of put-upon. Jason knows where this is headed: he’s the unreasonable one here, somehow, despite arriving by car like a normal person instead of on a suspicious person list. “Your hired muscle isn’t the best,” Dick begins with an insult, so Jason knows it’s going downhill from here. “Bunker’s observational skills are decent, but not up to par. Your ‘James’ is sloppy. And the, uh,” Dick licks his lips here, “ lady — insulted you about five times between the budget interrogation and the bumpy ride to your office. Wherever her loyalties lie, they’re not with you.”

Jason groans dramatically and pushes off his desk. He reclaims his book from Dick’s lap, closing it shut and walking towards the whale-shaped bookshelf mounted on a non-windowed wall. “Su’s loyalties lie with her money, and her money lies with me,” Jason refutes. He gently slides the book between a copy of The Orphan Master’s Son and Hamlet. “You tell me where a man gets his corn-pone, and I’ll tell you what his opinions are. Mark Twain,” Jason cites.

Dick watches him from his seat on the desk. His lips are pressed in wry amusement, although the amusement may be wishful thinking on Jason’s part. He’d like to say he put something on Dick’s lips, and humor is good enough. “Yes,” says Dick flatly, “that sounds familiar, thank you. But money only goes so far when another pocket reaches farther. Me, telling you she’s bad news,” he cites himself. 

“Alright, fine,” Jason says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. He moves them so his jacket fans out in a textile shrug. “Tell me then — Suzie Su the figure you caught on tape? I assume it’s only a figure and not a clear profile since you’re sitting on my desk like it’s your college dorm bed and not out there apprehending my so-called stalker.”

“So-called because they are stalking you, Jason,” Dick says gravely. 

“Thanks for the clarity, dickhead, the situation could’ve been really lost on me. Almost forgot I’m the Case of the Month.”

“Sorry,” says Dick, wincing. 

“Ugh,” Jason says, hanging his head back with the burden of Dick’s personality. The confession-booth sincerity might be ingratiating if Dick wasn’t as oppressively righteous as an Elf on the Shelf. 

“And no,” Dick resumes, “the figure is definitely not Suzie Su. Average height, it looks like, although he’s — bent, most of the time, so it’s guesswork. His frame is neither slim nor broad.”

Jason laughs. “Really? That’s the best you got? Not tall, not short, not big, not small?”

“Well, he’s wearing a hoodie, which obscures a lot of their physique,” explains Dick. He raises his eyebrows then, a questioning movement, and glances out the windows. The room has crisped to an orange color without Jason noticing. In a few minutes, the sunlight will be directly in Dick’s eyes, and then shortly afterward night will fall. “Specifically, he was wearing loose-fitting denim jeans, black combat boots, and a red pull-over with the hood up,” Dick describes. 

The last revelation pulls a clownish ribbon of laughter from Jason. It’s a nervous one, which must be obvious to Dick, but he can’t help it. The laugh bubbles in his chest, acidic, and pops on his tongue with acerbic heat. “I bet,” is all he says. 

Dick musters a half-smile and says, “Points for theme?”

Jason snorts. “Yeah, sure, he can get all the points for theme. But why?” he asks. “What the hell is this theme? He’s dressed himself like me to kill me. Am I killing myself? Is that the idea? Is he saying it was all my fault, that I got myself killed?” 

Jason envisions himself as he is now, face veiled in red, bring metal down on Robin. The warehouse builds itself around the nightmare, boxes stacking atop boxes, men milling about indifferently, and then running out. Except that it’s not the warehouse, it’s Crime Alley, and the walls collapse revealing narrow city streets. The Joker falls away and Batman stands in his place. Jason looks down, expecting a bloody crowbar, but he holds in his grip a simple, slightly rusted tire iron. Both are red though, in the end, aren’t they?

Jason flexes his empty fingers. The floor beneath him is plush, white carpet that’s been bleached more times than he can count. “Why Park Row?” he asks.

Dick’s voice is muted, almost hesitant, actually, or perhaps just attempting to hush and soothe. “It could be coincidence. Park Row is conveniently vacant, especially at night, and he wouldn’t know there were cameras watching,” Dick speculates. He approaches the next possibility more tentatively. “Or he might know what Park Row means to you, to Robin. He could even be showing off how much he knows.”

Jason blanches. “He knows a fucking lot then.”

Dick does inventory: “If Park Row is coincidental, he wouldn’t necessarily know you as Jason Todd. He would just know that the Red Hood was Robin and that the Joker killed — ”

Jason cuts him off. “With a crowbar, he got it to the exact weapon .”

The weapon troubles Dick as well, Jason can track the rumination on his face. The crowbar is specific, purposeful, and not common knowledge. The details of Jason Todd’s untimely death were not released to the public — and as far as his other identity went, Robins may change but they don’t die. “Bruce has a theory about that,” Dick shares. 

“Oh, yeah?” Jason asks. He can’t keep the sarcasm from entering his voice. Rationally, he knows Bruce can help him and that’s why he’s willing to work with him. But also, what aspect of Jason’s life hasn’t Bruce analyzed through a microscope, poured into a beaker to see if it would blow up, and uploaded for his future reference? What aspect of any of their lives has Bruce not thought through for them?

“Joker, or someone who worked with him that day,” Dick supplies. “They would know about the crowbar, and if it’s the Joker, he makes almost everything Batman does his business, he might even know about the cameras. He could be taunting B by making him watch.” 

What a theory it is, too. Jason starts laughing until Dick trails off and asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jason says, holding up his hands in mock apology. He pretends to wipe away a tear. “That is just some crazy narcissistic bullshit. I’m getting the photos of these mutilated kids and he’s the reason why?”

Dick must know Jason has a point because he flounders briefly before restarting. “Maybe not the reason, but logically Batman is connected. I know it doesn’t feel, I don’t know, satisfying, but it’s the only plausible theory so far. The Joker’s games almost always lead back to him. He used you to get at Batman, it’s at least worth considering how Bruce might factor into — ” 

Jason holds up a hand to shut Dick up before he loses his patience. “So, none of this is about me?”

Dick’s expression turns confused. “That’s not what I’m saying. I know this is about you.”

“But my death wasn’t,” Jason practically spits. He shrugs, tries to play this casually, but he wants to upend the desk Dick is still sitting on. He’s overcome with the suspicion that everything in this room is a prop to Dick, a piece to a gameboard he’s playing with Bruce alone. The both of them are entitled to waltz in with some half-baked disguise, lounge on his furniture, look through his books, watch his death over and over again. Jason himself is just another clue.

“You can say it,” Jason encourages, “I died for Bruce. It was never about me, it was always his war and I,” Jason pauses for the right words and when they arrive, the anger building up in him blows away. “I was just a good soldier.” 

Dick’s eyes don’t sharpen with recognition; they cloud over with it. Jason repeats the plaque’s inscription in the Batcave: A good soldier. It shines, encased in gold, commemorating Jason’s death while in defiance of his life. Here, in this conversation, it is soaked in venom. Jason doesn’t mean it as an attack; nonetheless, Dick shifts physically away as if to hide the bite mark. 

Jason takes a fortifying breath. This isn’t where the conversation is going, he vows. “This isn’t the Joker and this isn’t Batman’s case,” he says steadily enough. Dick has slid from the desk and finally stands, his gaze level with Jason’s. Jason gestures broadly, indicating everything around them that Jason has built for himself the past few years. “ This isn’t Bruce’s life and I’m not about to give him mine again.”

Jason thinks he’s made his point. He just wishes Dick didn’t look like he had slapped him. “No one expects that,” he assures before amending with a tiny frown, “I don’t expect that. I won’t speak for Bruce.”

“That’ll be a first,” Jason replies wryly. 

Dick actually laughs, kind of, more of a huff but it’s not without humor. “That’s fair, I suppose. I know everyone thinks I’m his champion, but I try to support everyone in our bat-themed infantry. Family, or so I like to call it. I defend you, too, Jay. I hope you know that. I guess he just seems to need me in his corner the most. Or maybe his corner is where I’m used to being, I don’t know, either way — it was just his theory and I thought it was worth sticking to the wall.”

Jason’s impulse is to criticize half of what Dick just said, but he leaves it be. Dick may be here for Bruce, but more importantly, they’re both here for the case. “I get it. But it’s a theory for Batman, not for Red Hood. I know Bruce is already halfway to commandeering the case and you’re here as a favor to him because we infamously don’t get along, but if you’re going to work with me, you gotta respect what I’ve got going on. Because whoever this person is, they’re not going to all this effort over the Joker or Batman. I’m not a soldier caught in their crossfire this time around. They know me as Robin and as Red Hood. This is very, very personal.”

Dick’s eyes drift to Jason’s bookshelf. He’s thinking of the pictures and how these kids were hurt because of Jason. Jason is, too. Dick folds himself across his chest and nods. “You’re right, you’re right. This is your case.” When Dick looks back at him, his face is intense. “I am here for you, not him. Well, I’d like to think we’re all in this together and so in a way I’m here for both of you, but. I don’t see this as a favor to him. Just so we’re clear.”

Jason breaks their gaze before he can accidentally believe him. When Jason became Robin, Dick avoided him because he was upset with Bruce. When Jason became Red Hood, Dick chased after him because he wanted to help Bruce. And when Dick faked his own death and told Jason nothing, it was because of Bruce. Why Dick wants to expand their relationship now is beyond him, but he’ll take help where he can get it. 

Besides, he does like the idea of Dick leaving Bruce’s corner for his. If Jason plays his cards right, Bruce’s plan for a middleman could backfire with Dick not apprising him of every time Jason’s nose twitches. Even Dick can’t resist a mission in Gotham without the Bat breathing down his neck. 

“Good,” Jason finally says after moments of Dick patiently awaiting the reception of his little olive branch. “Well, if it’s not a favor to him, then you won’t care that one of my caveats is keeping B on a strict need-to-know basis.”

Dick furrows his brow. “Define ‘need-to-know.’”

“Uhh, unless I say, ‘hey, Bruce needs to know this,’ he doesn’t need to know this.”

“Bruce is a good resource, Jay,” Dick insists. “You’re important to him, believe it or not, he’ll want to know everything is developing safely and efficiently.”

Jason cocks his head left and right like an unbalanced scale. “Yeah, well, I don’t want what he wants and it’s my case.”

Dick purses his lips thoughtfully. His forehead relaxes as does so, and it occurs to Jason that Dick is actually quite expressive. He can see the reluctance fall off his face, track the movement of thoughts across his gray-blue eyes. It’s strange to think that this man with all these open emotions and mercurial playfulness was raised by Bruce and his shadows. “Okay,” Dick eventually says, somewhat pensively, “what do you want?”

It’s an honest question, not rhetorical in the slightest, and that catches Jason off guard. He isn’t equipped to answer it. Jason knows what he doesn’t want, but that’s easier. He’s learned not to want things. He remembers wanting immensely in the life before this one. Jason is more careful now. If he was reckless, he would say he wants Dick here. He likes that Dick has all but literally chased him down to give him that help. He might want Dick to keep chasing him. He wants to be found, to be saved. But Jason knows from experience that those wishes don’t come true. 

“I want you to leave the Bat out of it,” Jason reiterates. He says it because it’s easier, and on the outside wanting an absence is like wanting nothing at all. But it is a want secretly, a real one, because he wants to know if Dick is chasing him like he suspects, or if he’s holding a scalpel behind his back, ready to scrape off a sample of Jason and deliver it to Bruce. 

Dick doesn’t roll his eyes or argue. In fact, he doesn’t react to the sarcasm Jason had safely wrapped his answer in at all. Instead, he breathes in through his nose, inhaling the terms and conditions, and then breathes them out through his mouth, fully processed. “Within reason,” he acquiesces. It’s not enough and Jason is about to say so when Dick holds up a hand. “I will not contact him without telling you first. And if he sends me anything about the case, I’ll forward the information right away,” he modifies.

That’s another fear to pile onto Jason’s plate. Dick doesn’t even plan on Bruce being forthcoming about whatever he might find on Jason’s rogue. “Yeah, Dick, details are kind of life-or-death here!” he exclaims, utterly bewildered. “I would freaking hope you don’t let Bruce hijack my case.”

Dick has the social graces to look contrite, although Jason knows he’s no different from any of the bats when it comes to secrets. They’re all hard-pressed to feel real guilt over things as petty to them as privacy. Boundaries, like all obstacles, are easily circumvented with a just cause and some zipline. 

Once Dick’s done pretending he’s sorry with his face, he sticks out a hand. “Our case,” he offers.

Jason laughs quietly. “Nah, but sure,” he agrees, shaking Dick’s hand. Then he leans back and crosses his arm, shifting his weight to one leg. “I guess the only thing left to sort out is for you to meet the in-laws.”

Dick tilts his head. “In-laws?” he repeats curiously.

“The Outlaws,” Jason specifies as Dick nods and makes an “ah” sound. “Or what’s left of them at least,” he says. 

Dick finds his way back to Jason’s desk and hikes himself up. He begins swinging his legs like a child. “I think I already did meet them. What did you call them? Sweaty Su and Fat Lip?”

Jason doesn’t think he’s heard Dick roast nearly enough people to be satisfied. “Yeah,” he says, grinning despite himself. He really should defend them, they’re all he’s got at the moment, but also they suck. “You should call them that to their faces, they’ll love it.”

Dick points at him and winks like the two of them are onto something. And maybe they are. 

[themostcleverandwittyname]

There’s Power in Pain

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5 CH6 CH7 CH8 CH9 CH10

CH11

Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess

(LinkxOC)

Summary:

A farmer with a troubled past had found a fallen hero on a riverside and makes the decision to take him in. With Ganondorf gathering power by the minute, there is no time to delay in his defeat however there is a time and place for everything as well as a lesson to learn. Link will have to do the hardest thing he has ever done and that is wait until he is ready to defeat Ganondorf.

But will Link ever truly be ready to rely on help to do the impossible? To accept that even heroes need support even from the most unlikely of people?

Meanwhile, a group of thieves organize to steal the sacred sword of the Hero of Destiny for themselves.

Chapter 6: The sounds of Splashing

Chapter 6 on AO3

“You had unsheathed the sword before that?”

The summer breeze ruffled the grass and the trees, the sound of the flutter of leaves was among the babbling of the stream. Hooves gave a melodic and soft thud as they went about their way. The sun had reached its full peak and Annette was very grateful for shady hat and the gentle breeze. The smell of the river and of honeysuckles in the brush swept around them, making the midday ride even more enjoyable. For the most part, the ride had been silent and had only lasted half an hour. The trail, if they followed it further on, would lead to Lake Hylia and the Lanayru Spring, which was just west of Hyrule Castle. Annette was more close to Termina, which was farthest to the West and past Lake Hylia by about two hours by horse. Being somewhat in the middle of the two big towns was beneficial to her, yet also a fair ride in either direction.

Link’s question, though not out of nowhere and a product of Annette admitting that she hadn’t pulled the sword out the first time in front of him, was a rupture of the quiet sounds of nature.

“Well, yeah. How did you think the honey got off the blade? Do you usually shove your sword back into its scabbard covered in blood, honey, or whatever you slice up?” She gave her rhetorical question, her sarcasm tinged her words. Link looked puzzled for a moment, as if he hadn’t realized that his sword had been cleaned.

“Oh… Blood usually doesn’t stay on the sword for long. I thought that because the sword is, well, magic that the scabbard would just… clean the honey? Usually that’s what it does with blood and dirt that collects on the blade.” He admitted, his naivety in his words. What?

“Wait, the scabbard cleans the blood off?” She asked, making sure she understood him right. He nodded, tangling the reigns around his fingers absently. He had frowned at the state of his green tunic and still decided to wear the chainmail beneath the button up she had fished from her brother’s drawer, the white fabric wasn’t quite long enough to cover the slightly tarnished mail that glinted in the sunlight. She had promised to help him patch up the tunic later, but it didn’t stop him from pulling that green hat over his hair. In other news, with inspection of his tunic, some things were found in his pockets that had not been lost, however not impressive enough to cheer over. Just a mere slingshot and a horse whistle, nothing too important yet Link still was pleased to have them back in his possession.

“Yes, surprisingly it’s very handy. With my other sword, I have to clean it a lot and it’s not easy to do when you’re in a cave with little lantern oil left.” He mused, memories of previous times flashed in his cool, blue eyes.

“Seems like you have a lot of stories to tell.” Annette prompted, leaning forward on her horse hoping to hear something interesting from the hero of legend. He gave a short-lived laugh under his breath and said nothing more before looking down at the mane of his horse, a bittersweet look in his eyes. Perhaps he didn’t want to talk about it.

Yet again, as they continued along the river and the way it curved, the farmer decided that something other than the sound of birds chirping was in order. Opening her saddlebag, she reached in and pulled out her source of entertainment on long rides, a simple violin. She had left the bow at her home and on rides like this preferred plucking the strings. She wasn’t a musical talent but there were a few melodies she had picked up from street musicians and locals. She ran her finger over the strings and recalled how one song went.

Plucking the strings, the melody, though at first was pitchy and unpracticed, began to flow nicely once she got used to her instrument again. She had not played in a long time. The song was fast paced and happy, one that was played at most festivals. Cordial, Annette’s horse, was fond of this particular tune and her pace quickened and she gave a whinney, as if attempting to sing along.

This made Link perk up and take his eyes away from staring away absently. The blonde watched her finish the song. She had not realized that she was finished until her playing had come to and end and she hadn’t given any forethought on what to play next.

“That was very pretty. I’ve never heard that song before.” Link gave, curiosity gleamed in his eyes. “ I didn’t know violins could be played that way.”

“It’s hard to carry a bow around on rides without breaking it. Playing violins like this isn’t uncommon, but playing with a bow is much more elegant. The song is a festival song that everyone in Termina knows. I just play it on long rides to entertain myself.” She explained, resting her hand on the polished wood. She cherished this violin a lot, as it had been a gift from her brother years ago.

Link listened and didn’t have any further comment, but he didn’t look as if he wanted to drop conversation.

“How about you? Do you like to do anything in your spare time?” She inquired, placing the violin loosely back into the saddle bag. Link thought for a moment about his answer and his extended silence was relatable. She always forgot everything she had ever done in her life when someone would ask what she likes to do.

“I like to help people. I like making people feel happy and safe.” His answer threw her off guard. It was warming, yet so unbelievably kind that it felt like something a governor or monarch would say to gain trust. However, the brunette knew this was not the case somehow and that the man riding with her was being genuine. She wasn’t sure exactly what to say to that and watched as he smiled fondly as he thought over his words.

“That’s… that’s very nice but I meant more of what you do for yourself. When you’re alone and bored what makes you happy? Do you paint or hunt or read? Maybe even play an instrument?” she pushed, adjusting her sunhat. Link smiled to himself as he recalled something.

“Well, I don’t know if this counts as an instrument or not but I pick reeds and use them as a whistle. Epona here loves it and runs right over to me.” he revealed, gesturing at the chestnut mare. Once again, she didn’t know how to respond. He what? She must have made a face because his smile fell and was replaced by confusion.

“Wow I’ve never heard that before. Maybe you can show me sometime.” was all she could manage. He looked down at his saddle and exhaled, not enthused by her lack of a proper response.

“There is another thing I like.” he began and opened his mouth, as if deciding whether or not to say it or not. “One of the best things is when I’m alone and find things that no one else has found. I like to discover hidden places because I know that there I can enjoy the moment, even if it’s short. A lot of people like looking at the night sky, but I feel the same way when I uncover something like that.” he spoke, voice soft along with his expression. His words were raw, untouched by formula or conditioning from others. It was genuine.

“I feel the same way with waterfalls and ponds. It’s comforting, right?” Annette related, smiling to herself. Link nodded and yet he had more to say.

“Yes, that’s a place that is normally comforting but the strange part is that I feel this way sometimes in places there would be danger. In dark caves, for example. I never know what’s around the corner, what’s in the shadows. Is it something I need to be careful of or something that I was lucky to find? It’s weird, but it’s exciting to feel unsure and fully engaged in what’s happening around me.” he continued his explanation, adding so much more. She knew what he was talking about. He looked at her, his eyes hopeful and yet confused.

“I know what you’re talking about.” Annette admitted and Link perked up.

“You do?” he responded, his curiosity beaming.

“Yeah, I mean it’s kinda like that.” she gave and his obvious interest prodded her into more. If he had shared that with her, then she could share something too. “I feel excited when I fight someone. There’s something about it that makes me feel alive. That may be everyone, but I’ve always felt guilty about it. It’s exhilarating and freeing. It’s the same when I’m out alone, walking in the dark along a street or somewhere else. Someone could break my neck, coming up behind me. I’d never have a clue but somehow it makes me feel free. It may be the possibilities that arise when I’m alone like that.” she ended her spill and wondered if she should have kept that to herself.

Link looked at her with thought.

“Fighting is freeing for me only after I win. When I fight, it’s never for me so it can quickly feel overbearing. Defeat is painful, not because of being hurt but because there’s so much more at stake than me.” His words came out pained. She knew that he wasn’t just speaking of past experiences, but perhaps also of his current wounds that he had.

The Triforce on his hand was condemning, she realized. Not just a right and a gift, but a sentence. She shuddered at the thought of having to bear something like that herself. Before she could come up with any pathetic or weakly constructed response to his pained words, something glinted in the water. Something had snagged itself on a branch that scraped the water’s surface.

“Link! Is that your bow?” She exclaimed her question and Link startled at the sudden volume increase. Annette pointed past the blonde at the item in the river and he followed her the direction of her finger to spot the bow. He snapped his head back at her, his eyes wide and excited. She didn’t need more of an answer.

She tugged the reigns and halted her mare before swinging down to the peaty soil at the river’s edge.

_______________

Link watched as the woman made her way around Epona and paused by the bank. She looked up at him, her eyes nested under the shadow of her hat’s brim. Her freckles dusted between her hazel eyes. Her wild, curly hair twirled against her cheeks. Her skin was considerably darker than his, even in the sunlight, almost making him wonder is she had Gerudo relatives.

“You, stay on your horse. I’ll get it! Look and see if you can find the quiver. If not, it’s okay because we can just buy another one later.” Her words came out in a demand and she hurriedly pulled her cargo pants up past her knees, using the drawstring to tie them in place. He took her words and looked around, hoping to spot the quiver too.

A little way up the river, he had spotted the quiver wrapped over a pointy rock that rose up above the water. It was lucky that it was so close and not lost, despite the fact that it wasn’t particularly essential to him. Like Annette had said, he could just buy another quiver.

“It’s upstream! On that rock!” he called out as the brunette began to wade into the water, the surface resting well below her knees. The current swept around her, the dangling drawstrings grazed the water. She looked over towards the rock and gave him a nod over her shoulder before turning her back to him to trek through the water. In no time, she had reached the bow and quiver, muttering things to herself that Link couldn’t make out from his distance. She turned back, with both the bow and quiver in her arms, holding them high above the water.

“You are so lucky I might have to use you to gamble! There’s still one arrow in here!” she called out, her amusement clear in her voice.

She waded through the water but froze in place and her face went stark with shock. Something coiled and twisted over the edge of the quiver and onto the farmer's arm. She gave choked, inhuman groan of a shriek and slammed the quiver into the water, her whole body surging into action to sling the trespasser from her wrist. The snake was flung from her arm and Annette, still in a state of panic, stomped away in a frenzied march and fell back into the river. She disappeared from view for a moment under the surface and lurched back to her feet in the calf-deep flow, drenched completely and blinded by her own hair.  

Link stared, stunned as only seconds passed and didn’t allow for much of a reaction, as the now soaked brunette pulled the wet mangle of hair from her eyes to look around for the snake, who had long fled in fear. Her tawny face almost seemed pallid as she looked up, her likeness like a wet sheepdog. Link wasn’t sure if it was relief, the sudden absurdity of the scene, or the dumbfounded look that Annette was giving him as she realized he had been watching, but he burst into laughter.

Her eyebrows pinched together and her eyes narrowed as she nodded her head in spite of herself. She sucked in her cheeks and turned her eyes towards the quiver in the water, the bow still in her grasp.

“Yeah, ha-ha, laugh it up. As if you wouldn’t do the same thing.” she huffed, pulling the soaked quiver from the water, tilting it to pour out. The single arrow still remained there, not lost to the current when it had been thrown into the water. He was indeed lucky. His laughter diminished to be just a smile and through his grin he tried to make some sort of apology, though he couldn’t be totally sincere.

“I’m sorry, you just looked so… funny when you were scared like that. I’ve never seen that from you.” he began, his laugh returning to peek through his words. Annette gave a stern look and she straightened up.

“I am a coward, sure, but I am not scared of a little snake. It just caught me off guard, that’s all.” she claimed, matter of factly, her nose turned up. He didn’t believe it and just to see what defence she had, he chose his next words with mischief in mind.

“Good, then getting it off your leg shouldn’t be a problem.” He jested and Annette barely had time to register his words before she again squealed and leapt from the water, this time holding firm the quiver and bow in her hands. The commotion set the water around her flying in droplets through the air as she scrambled away. However, this time she didn’t fall and her frenzy was cut short when she realized that there was no snake.

Coming to a stop, she took a deep breath and looked up to glare at him, his giggles were unaffected by her look.

“Oh fuck you!” she exclaimed but with a few seconds to whoosh away her short-lived anger, she exhaled and humor spread across her features. “Oh okay, you got me! You got me… Come on, piss yourself! Soooo funny.” her sarcasm came but her own half-hidden smirk betrayed her and Link could laugh knowing that she wasn’t angry anymore. He was taken away from the moment when she held the bow out to inspect it, her face lighting up.

“Since I’m already soaking wet, I might as well make use of it and see if I’m any good at archery.” Her words caught him off guard as he didn’t know what she meant by that. She wasn’t planning on shooting him, was she? The answer to his question came when after the brunette notched the arrow clumsily, she turned the sharp tip towards the water, just downstream from her. After a few seconds of concentrated focus, she let the arrow fly to hit its mark in the water, apparently a total miss at her groan. No wonder, her form was completely wrong.

“Are you trying to catch a fish that way? When you’ve never shot a bow?” Link asked in curiosity, leaning forward in his saddle.

“Um, yeah. It’s a dumb idea but I want to see if I can do it… if you don’t mind. If I bend your arrow, I’ll buy you more.” she offered as she crept through the water, careful not to cause any more stir in the water so that the fish will return.  

“I don’t mind. Go for it.” he spoke and Annette nodded. Notching the arrow again, she stood back into the more shallow water and kept a close eye out. She looked over her shoulder at him and at the horses.

“You should probably get down and stretch your legs. We’ll probably be here a while if my goal is to be accurate.” She gave herself a short chuckle, “Just don’t hurt yourself and stay away from the edge of the forest.” her command came out and with no further comment she turned towards the water. He thought it over and clambered down from the saddle, giving Epona a soft pat. His decent pulled at his arm and the ache worsened to remind him it was there.

Looking around, he decided that looking at rocks was better than nothing. He could be quiet that way and not scare the fish. As much as he didn’t want to idle around and wanted to hunt down what he had lost, he knew it was better than nothing.

He was slow to bend down to pluck a marbled grey pebble from the small dunes of others, keeping in mind that he was injured. Although he had healed considerably, he did not want to reopen the small wounds again and reverse progress and he certainly didn’t want to hear Annette scold him again.

Rolling the pebble around in his palm felt so foreign, his nondominant hand had been working overtime and he wondered if he would become ambidextrous after this. That would be useful. Annette cussed, having missed her target again and he looked up to see her march half-hearted towards the arrow. His attention half returned to the pebble and half lingered on her profanity.

In Ordon, there were no girls or women that would cuss aloud and stomp around so rudely when they didn’t get their way. Annette had said that she was from Termina, so perhaps it was a cultural difference but compared to people he had met in Hyrule and his hometown, he figured it may just be unique to her. She was so bossy and often rude, rolling her eyes and snorting at any inconvenience, but she never neglected to take care of whatever problem arose. She called her friend an idiot and acted as if everything Zania did was troublesome, yet she looked forward to seeing her and still enjoyed her company.

Link thought back to her harsh words when he joked about the snake and assumed that perhaps that’s just how she treated her friends? If that were the case, he would welcome a “fuck you” from her, no matter how strange it was to him.

But then again, that just may be how things are with people from Termina and she may just be rude.

With her rudeness aside, Link couldn’t deny that she had helped him a great deal and treated him nicely even if she did scold him as if she were his mom. He knew that without her… he may not be as well as he is now if he was even alive. He would like to think that someone else would come along and help, but in this secluded and uninhabited area full of woods, he knew that was only positive thinking. He wanted to help more, but he had no clue what to do. She was happy with the honey, but he couldn’t help but feel that it was minor in paying her back.

And then there was… the sword incident. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, how she had acted and how she was able to unsheathe it. She had dropped the subject so fast and had tried to ignore it had happened and that baffled him. He knew that anyone who could wield that sword would be thrilled about it, all the children in Ordon dreamed about it and that’s why he returned it to the temple… until now. Annette had completely ignored it and the lack of excitement didn’t make any sense.

“Hey Link, are you feeling okay? You’ve been staring at that rock for a while now. Do we need to go back? I don’t want you passing out on me or anything.” the subject of his thoughts called out, her words were the summation of what she was like. She cared, but always thought something in that made the situation seem like a bother. She was deflecting her own concerns. And this she did very often.

Link stared dumbly back and nodded, letting the pebble slide from his palm. That was answer enough for her and she turned back and shot the bow again, missing and cursing under her breath.

Rude or not, she was helping him and had claimed she was going to help him get back everything he lost and for that, he wasn’t sure he could thank her. Especially if she knew how badly he had failed and how Ganon’s power grew every moment that she handed him a plate or made him go lie down and rest.

“Did I? I DID! Link, look, I got him!” She called excited as she rushed to the arrow and pulled the large carp from the water, which flopped uselessly in her grasp. “Do you like grilled fish?” She questioned, pulling the arrow from the side of the fish. Link stared in surprise. He thought it might take longer to catch a fish. Shooting arrows into water with accuracy was something that beginners would have trouble with. Was it luck or just the fact that she didn’t give up?

Very pleased with her catch, he watched her bring the wriggling fish to the shore, little water droplets made new dark spots on Annette’s half-dried shirt. Holding it above the rocks, she watched it squirm and her excitement faded to confusion.

“I um… I don’t know what to do with it now. My brother usually… finished the job.” She explained, still holding the fish firmly. Oh, she didn’t want to kill it. He stepped forward, willing to do the job. Reaching out for the fish, they both jumped back startled as a crudely made arrow pierced the side of the fish, the impact pushed the fish from the woman’s grip.

Link’s heart sunk in fear and dread as he knew exactly what this meant. Looking in the direction that the arrow came from, he found on the hill across the river what he had fought so hard to keep from Ordon.

A bublin archer perched on a large, painting boar.

And he wasn’t sure he could defend himself this time, let alone the woman in front of him.

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5 CH6 CH7 CH8 CH9 CH10

CH11

[17cafe]

Hiraeth

↠ Asked: ❝hihi! can i request a written scenario of woozi where he and i get in an argument over something he did? angsty but fluffy ending please! you’re the best and i love your works, thank you! ❤❞

↠ Members: Woozi x reader

↠ Genre: angst + fluff, fairy au

↠ Word count: 3000

★ this scenario is, in a way, inspired by the Studio Ghibli movie “When Marnie was There”

click here for part 2

Today it is your birthday. 

You finally grew old enough to be allowed outside. Beyond.

You’ve been outside before, yes, but not beyond the forest of which lies atop your home. Your home as well as the home of all the other fairies you knew. And the leaders of them. One just happened to be your father. Another man worked alongside him, and he was a father as well. To a younger fairy named Woozi, who happened to be your friend.

Woozi was going to replace the position of his father when he would become able to. You could fill the position of your father too, but there were constant comments floating around that you would not be suited for the task; people thought you were too disobedient, when in reality, you’ve never broken any true rules. They just believe you have due to rumors. But, that is another story.

Woozi was one year older than you, and already attempting to prove he could take charge. He received many jobs to do around the underground village. This evening, it was his job to finally take you out, to show you the unknown, to be your guide through it all. 

He was going to show you around the larger world full of mysteries that you have yet to observe for yourself. 

You two had been friends long enough to know that he was much quieter than you. In your case it was as if you had been ecstatic about life itself since you were born. As if you were ecstatic to just be a fairy, regardless of the fact that to your knowing it was the only thing that living beings could be, besides the beings that fairies were friends with. Beings like insects and rodents and bunnies and birds. You knew them from working in the forest above ground.

Now you were passing beyond that. To an opening you only saw from a far off distance before. Scintillating sunlight poked through branches and leaves before, and that was all you had ever known. Now you see it in literal broad daylight. Although, the light itself isn’t as magnificent as it could be; sunset was nearing already.

Everything else though, was magnificent as you had imagined. Everything was so much bigger, so much brighter, so much. This new town felt so full in some way despite it being so spacious and mellow. 

None of the humans Woozi warned you about seemed to be outside. He was thankful, but secretly, you were not. You wanted to meet them. They seemed nice.

He continues flying alongside you over the town as you have been. You slow down as you pass over more buildings, Woozi telling you what each one is called and what it is for. There are many houses that all look the same to you. You wonder how the humans tell the difference between theres, but then realize they would wonder the same about you.

“Do you see that house way over there?”

The huge body of water beneath had your attention, but your head still snapped up when he asked you that question. Thus far you have been the one to point things out first, and now out of the blue he’s doing it too. 

Before answering him though, you ask a question of your own.

“Is this the ocean?” He chuckles.

“No, it’s called a marsh.”

“Like… Marsh-room?” You joke. He chuckles again.

“Not quite. But there are mushrooms right by it, in the forest. You know where. But do you see that house?” He persists with his question and halts, pointing to the house. You try to fly ahead but he holds onto your wrist in order for you to halt as well. 

The sky was only getting darker, and so were the rest of the houses. But this one was just turning all their lights on as it got darker. It entranced you, and something clicked. It was as if a memory was triggered in your mind, but not the entirety of it. Just some small part.

“That over there is the Marsh House. The name makes sense. It’s a house on the marsh.”

He waits for you to chime in some comment, but you’re caught in your daze.

“Uh, it’s the Marsh House. And basically, we aren’t supposed to fly over there. For one, it’s too risky if we fall into the water on the way to it. You know why. But also, there’s too many odd stories about the people who live there. Just don’t get too close to it, okay?” 

He turns around, satisfied with having said all that he needs to say.

“Who lives there?” you ask.

“It doesn’t really matter. We need to get you back, it’s dark already.” 

He starts flying away, back towards the direction of your own home.

“But that house… It looks so familiar,” you whisper. He still manages to hear.

“We can come back tomorrow if you like, but we have to go-” He cuts himself off as he notices you aren’t beside him. He comes back to you, taking your hand in his and begins pulling you along, as you don’t seem to be willing to move yourself. 

“Did you hear what I said, y/n?”

“Yes,” you fib as you turn your head to gaze at the house for longer. You were becoming farther and farther away from it as you relied on Woozi’s guidance back to your town. And although it was a minuscule sight, you could have sworn you saw someone looking back at you too.

You arrived back to your home, and your father thanked Woozi for all that he did. Woozi voiced a plain “it was no problem, any time,” and headed off on his own. It was time for all the fairies to go to bed, so it was understandable.

That was how it worked; everybody went to bed and woke up at the same time each day. Except for the night workers. Woozi was one of them, along with his father. They had their own schedules. The bunnies, too.

You complied with the rules of the place and did all you normally do at night before going to bed. Although, tonight was different. Usually you would be looking forward to a night of rest after a day of work of any sort. But the previous day was spent resting, because it was your special day. 

The day of rest kept your mind awake. That, as well as the house. 

You stayed up late enough to hear the bunnies awake. They started walking around above ground, presumably just checking up on each other before moving on with their “morning.” They were sure moving around a lot. It got louder. 

You snuck outside of your bedroom to see what was going on; you assumed there was some kind of danger. You hurried over to the main tunnel that everybody used to get outside, and just as you did, dirt came pouring down it. The bunnies must have knocked it in. Accident or not, it was an issue.

Woozi was awake of course. It seems like he never sleeps. He came rushing to the tunnel shortly after alongside his dad. You were unsure what to do, so you turned to ask, but you didn’t find the chance before Woozi spoke up.

“I’ll go get the extra tools we have down here,” he said and scurried off to get them. His dad spoke next.

“I’d better go get the night workers to come back down here and fix this.”

“I’ll go with you,” you suggest with no second thoughts. You accompany him through a smaller tunnel that was, thankfully, unharmed. You travel up and out of the underground town and into the forest above, and start calling for the workers as Woozi’s dad does too.

You venture farther away, bit by bit, so it goes unnoticed. Then, when you see your chance, you escape.

You only came outside to get away, to go back to the Marsh House you are still so drawn to. Thankfully, you did what you wanted to, and seamlessly. 

Woozi’s father has gone back inside and now gives directions to the workers. Telling them where to go, what to get, what jobs to do. Woozi takes a break as the actual workers take over, and after handing off his tools to somebody else, leaves to quickly wash up. Then he comes back to help monitor.

He stands beside his dad and helps in answering any questions others have; the commotion woke up nearly everybody. When he found some time in between talking to people, he asked a question of his own, to his father.

“Y/n went outside with you, right?”

“Yes,” his dad replies, amid the many orders he’s giving.

“Then, did y/n come back inside with you?” Woozi asks, looking around, even flying up a little to get a better look at all the people around.

“Yes. Wait- No, no- I don’t know,” his dad mutters. Woozi takes the repeated “no” as his answer and huffs. How unexpected, he thinks to himself sarcastically. He knows where you must have gone, and he was going to come get you.

Before leaving though, he peered into your bedroom just in case you had stayed. But to no surprise, the room was empty. So he headed out. 

Meanwhile, you were flying to the Marsh House. You wanted to get closer and really take a good look around. You had to fly across the marsh first, though, so you did. At one point the water cleared up and the ground was apparent. You decided to fly down and walk across it.

There were still puddles here and there from where the ground seeped down. You gazed into one of them, seeing a baby crab. You had never seen one before. You step closer, but it hurries away from you, so you decide to leave it alone after all.

You wander along, through small patches of tall grass, and soon find yet another puddle of water in front of you. You fly up, over the obstacle, and finally towards the windows of the house. 

Once you’re close enough to touch the glass, you peer inside. None of the rooms are lit up. Everything is dark. Until a voice comes from behind you.

“Who are you?”

You turn around and see a young girl, a young human girl, but no part of you is frightened. You turn to her and fly down to be at her eye level, but are too shy to say much yet, so she continues.

“My name is Marnie, it’s nice to meet you. I think I saw you earlier. Can we be friends?” She smiles a close-mouthed smile so widely that her eyes squint shut. Light falls onto her face and you turn back towards the house, seeing light come through windows one by one.

“I promise to keep this as our little secret,” she adds on to grasp your attention again. 

“Yes, I would love to be friends.”

She reaches out a finger in an evident attempt to shake your hand, but hers are too much larger. You grab her fingertip with your whole hand, and right as your skin touches hers, your whole arm gets jerked back. It felt so rushed, but soon enough, your eyes meet Woozi’s face just inches from yours, and his eyes are directed towards Marnie’s, although he speaks to you.

“We have to get going, y/n. And you-” he begins a sentence directed to Marnie, but stops himself and simply flies away with you, holding onto you tightly as you try wiggling out of his grasp.

He carries you until you are both in the forest again, only a few feet away from the fairy town you hardly miss. His voice comes out cold enough to send shivers through your entire being.

“Showing you beyond the forest was simply meant for showing you, it wasn’t giving you permission to go off gallivanting in the middle of the night. It’s dangerous y/n. You know that.”

His tone even momentarily froze you. But you spoke back.

“I know, I know, but I couldn’t help it-” he cuts you off with a scoff. “Just please don’t tell anybody. Don’t make this bigger than it needs to be. And please don’t tell my father. You know how he is…”

He truly finds nothing to say back to you, but would never admit it. 

Without another words, he flies off, and he’s out of sight in seconds, back underground with everybody else. He sees your father darting around looking for you, and knowing Woozi had just gone out, he goes to him.

“Woozi, have you seen y/n? Have you seen-”

“Yeah.” 

You hear his response. No hesitance was even there.

Woozi responded without thought, but after even saying the lone word, he caught himself. He tried walking away, but your father persisted on a further answer.

“Where is y/n? Where? Woozi, you must answer to me. Don’t you know who I am?”

And he gave the further answer.

“Out at the Marsh House, talking to Marnie. But I brought them back.” 

A weight falls in your chest as you hear that. How could he-?

Your father tenses up, initially in surprise but then in anger and fear, dreading that you were talking to a human. 

You try sneaking back in despite being aware of the risk you are taking. Many people are still awake after the earlier incident, so you believe you could go in unnoticed. But you should have known it was a night full of the world going against you. He saw you. And he pulled you aside just as Woozi did. Far enough from others that they may only hear indistinct mumbles.

“Dad-”

“I can not stand this behaviour of yours. The people here call you loud and complain, and you do nothing to fix yourself. Even after years. Then, just when you reach the age to be allowed outside, you abuse that privilege. And don’t even bother trying to blame this on Woozi, this is your own doing. Before you blame this on him, saying he should have been watching you, look at yourself. No control.” 

Tears begin to well up in your eyes. You manage to retort to him for once though. For the first time.

“How dare you talk to me like this? I’m your child.”

“How dare you call yourself my child at a time like this?”

You ripped your arm out of his grasp and rushed away as fast as possible. The tears that had welled up were overflowing now, down your cheeks and falling to the floor. You were in the process of storming back outside, but you saw Woozi in your blurred vision. You went up to him.

“You told him, didn’t you? How could you tell my father what happened? Just like that, without a second thought? You know how he is, you know how strict he is. It hurts, you know. What he says when I disobey.” You pause.

“Oh who am i kidding, you must have no idea.”

You back up and give him one last look and storm away, even as your father shouts a demand that you stay. You made your way outside and of course, headed back to the same house as before. Your father gives a demand to Woozi this time.

“I’m putting it on you to make sure they don’t go back there. Got it? If they go inside, you know that place better than anyone. Just get y/n back here.” Woozi nods and leaves immediately, making his way to you.

He sees you in the distance, flying slowly. Rather than catching up to you, he decides to give you the space you need. He keeps his distance back from you and just watches you.

He follows until you sit on the windowsill of the girl’s bedroom. He hides around the corner as she opens up the window.

“Oh- Oh you’re back! Wait, are you crying?” She notices your tears almost immediately and offers you a tissue. Of course it is much too big for you, so she rips off a corner, and you take that instead. As you wipe your cheeks dry, you hear a thumping.

“What is that?”

“Oh no, that’s my grandmother coming up the stairs, I’ll be right back. Wait here okay?” She closes the window and heads off, and you can hear a new voice in moments. Not the words the voice forms, though.

Woozi takes this as his chance to come to you. He sits beside you. You tell him to leave.

“I’m not going back. Not tonight,” you inform him. He ignores your words for the time being.

“Why do you like this house so much?” 

His question catches you off guard. You expected him to be intolerant of you still. Rather, he was interested.

You sniffle and wipe your tears away a minute longer until you finally respond.

“I told you, it looks familiar.”

“And?” He knows there must be more to it.

“And Marnie, she looks- No, she feels familiar. I don’t know what it is, Woozi. I don’t know.” You pause. “I feel like I belong here more than anywhere else.”

“But you barely know this place,” he points out.

“But I feel it.”

He nods and speaks only in his head, to himself. “I get it. I’m surprised you feel it too.”

No more words are spoken as you both sit together on the windowsill, looking over the water and up at the stars. The moon is shining bright. You whisper a question after minutes of silence.

“My father sent you to bring me back, didn’t he?”

He nods.

“But you don’t have to worry. We can stay here as long as you want tonight. I can make up a story. Just keep looking at the stars.” He shuffles closer and puts his arm around you in an odd attempt to comfort you.

“As long as I want?”

You knew he was only saying the words in order to relax you, but you took them fully, thinking of staying here a whole year longer. You liked it outside.

[tarasstorybook]

Forest Adventures

“Come on Crystal let’s go!” Felicia grabs a small bag, tying it around her waist as she all but takes off out the front door.

“Where are we going again?” Crystal stands up, stretching and yawning.

“The forest to gather herbs that I’ve run out of, again.”

“How long will it take?”

“It shouldn’t take long.”

“Alright, I’m coming.”

Felicia smiles at her familiar, walking out the door and heading for the forest. It was just recently that she noticed she was running out of certain herbs. Having venture to replenish them before she knew exactly where to go to find them.

Meanwhile, a young man laid comfortably on a large branch of a tree deep into the forest, napping happily.

“Felicia did you remember to pack food before you left?” Crystal asks after they had walked awhile.

“Uh sure.” Felicia says, not making eye contact with her familiar.

“You didn’t did you?”

“Yeah I kind of forgot. I know I’m not going to accidentally poison myself though. I know what’ll kill me and what won’t.” Felicia stops by the tree the young man was in, unaware that he was there at all.

Niki was far enough up that he could see her, but she couldn’t see him easily. But just in case he quietly hid himself, peering down curiously at the lovely girl below. “Are you sure?” Crystal asks. “Of course I’m sure.” Felicia says confidently. “Besides, this tree is an apple tree see?” She gestures to the fruit above her.

“I suppose.” Crystal muses. “Did you eat before we left?”

“Nope.”

“Good job kiddo.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just climb the tree watch me.”

“The branch is too high for you.” Crystal sits down and watches Felicia’s attempts to grab the branch above her.

“No it isn’t, ye of little faith.” Felicia tries and misses the branch the first time. “I got this.” She says before Crystal has a chance to say anything about the branch.

Niki chuckled quietly to himself, gracefully climbing down enough to reach the branch Felicia was also reaching for. He put just enough weight on it so it bent down right into the young woman’s grasp. 

“See I told you.” Felicia smiles on her second try.

“If you insist.” Crystal stays in her place watching the young witch try to pull herself up.

“It just takes determination.” She says pulling herself up, sitting on the branch proud of herself.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure it does.”

“You want one?” She asks standing up, using the tree to help keep her balance.

“That’s okay. I’ll just watch you.”

“Whatever.” Felicia shrugs, climbing a little higher.

Niki was surprised when she started to pull herself up onto the branch instead of just grabbing an apple from the branch, and slowly moved backwards in order to avoid a collision with her as she climbed. However, she turned out to be less predictable than he’d supposed, and as she kept climbing as he tried to dodge her without falling out himself, his hand brushed against her arm as she moved.

“Ah!“ 

“What’s wrong?” Crystal stands up at her surprised yelp. “Something just touched me and I have no idea what it was.” “Perhaps another branch?” Crystal wonders. “Maybe.” Felicia stays on the branch she was on, not venturing further. “I don’t know, it’s possible.” She reaches for an apple twisting it then pulling it off its branch. “Coming down now.”

Niki backed up quickly when she moved yet again, not realizing his mistake before his foot slipped off the branch and he went tumbling backwards out of the tree with a yelp. He lost his concentration on disguising himself as soon as his foot slipped, causing him to become visible to all as he hit the ground with a thud. “What was that?” Felicia asks as she climbs down. “Somebody fell out of the tree you are in.” Crystal starts making her way to the other side of the tree. “Really?” Felicia jumps down. “Are they okay?” She joins Crystal.

Niki had landed flat on his back, having hit the ground hard he laid there for a bit to catch his breath and compose himself. “Hey are you okay?” Felicia walks around the other side of the tree, her apple in hand, to see if he was alright.

Niki peeked an eye open, his cheeks taking on a slight pink tinge when he realized what he’d just done and that she’d seen him do it. “…da.” He eventually answered as he slowly got up with a groan, his gold arm bands and earrings glinting in the sunlight. “That sounded like it hurt.”

“…da, it did. But more my pride than anything else.” He chuckled to himself. Felicia lets out a small laugh. “You bruise anything?”

“Probably but I will heal.” “That’s good. That you’ll heal that is.”

“Da.” He smiled, showing his small pointed canines as he did. “So, what’s a pretty young maiden like yourself doing wandering the forest by herself?” “I’m not alone, Crystal is with me.” She gestures to the black dog next to her. “And I’m restocking on herbs that I’ve run out of.”

“Ah, perhaps I could help you?” He offered, glancing suspiciously at the dog. “Um sure I suppose, I know where I’m going but the company would be nice.” Crystal catches his eye and lets out a huff. “What are you staring at?”

Niki did his best to curb his look of surprise, and instead growled quietly in annoyance. “Dog.” “Okay……” Felicia stands awkwardly. “Well I should get those things before the sun goes down. Come on Crystal.” She turns to leave, Crystal takes a moment but soon follows behind her.

Niki followed behind as well, pointing out all the places he frequently napped and amused himself, making Felicia laugh several times as he recounted his shenanigans as they walked. Crystal stays close to Felicia’s side, making a point to stay between them, she didn’t trust Niki at the moment. “Oh gods, you’re funny. I don’t think I introduced myself. I’m Felicia Chamberlain, what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t say. And it’s Nikolai.” “Nikolai.” Felicia repeats to herself. “Pretty, nice to properly meet you.” She smiles at him.

“You too.” “So you spend most of your time in the forest?”

“…I suppose you could say that.” Felicia laughs at this. “Oh? What do you mean by that?”

“The forest isn’t where I live but it’s where I like to spend a lot of my time.” “Ah okay I see now.” “You smell like sulfur.” Crystal comments as they walk. “Crystal.” Felicia scolds. “What? He does.”

Niki turned a shade paler at Crystal’s comment, freezing where he stood. “And you smell like a dog.” He snapped. “I am a dog.” Crystal says, not bothered at his comeback. “Nikolai are you okay? You look like you don’t feel well. Crystal that wasn’t very nice.” Crystal doesn’t say anything, instead she sits down as she waits for the two to catch up.

“I’m alright, you merely have a rude dog.” “I’m a witch’s familiar.” Crystal corrects. “Maybe coming out here was a mistake.” Felicia begins to ponder out loud.

“I know what you are.” Nikolai replied. “And I know what you are.” Crystal says back. “Crystal maybe we should just go home. I can always find those things some other time.” “If that’s what you want.” Crystal rises to her feet.

“I know where a patch of yarrow is if that helps at all.” Niki offered. “So, do I.” Felicia murmurs under her breath. “Um, that-that’s okay.” Crystal shifts at Felicia’s sudden mood change. “Felicia are you alright?” “Can’t you go one day without being so critical about people?” Felicia snaps at her familiar. “This is why I don’t have friends, or at least the few friends I do have are the prince twins back at the castle.” Felicia walks away from both of them in frustration.

“I do not wish to harm you. No matter what your familiar may think of me.” Niki promised.

“Felicia.” Crystal goes after her. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm.” Comes her short reply.

“Any comment that comes to mind that is negative I will keep to myself.” Crystal tries.

Felicia stops to think it over. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Then say sorry to Nikolai for the things you’ve said to him. I gather now that he can understand you.”

Crystal sighs, the things she did to make Felicia feel better. “Very well.” She turns to Niki. “I’m…sorry.”

“Thank you. And like I said, I do not wish to harm her.” Nikolai repeated. 

“So, the yarrow?” Felicia quickly changes the subject.

Niki points to their right into a thicket of trees. “That way, there’s a clearing a short ways in.”

“Nice.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Was yarrow the only thing you needed?” Crystal asks.

“I think? I can’t remember.”

“You’ll have to make a list for next time.”

“Yeah.” Felicia rubs the back of her head, blushing slightly.

“Hah, I’m sure you’ll remember soon.”

“Heh, yeah maybe.” Felicia blushes brighter.

“Hey, maybe I’ll see you again sometime later?” Niki asked, helping her pick the herbs.

“Um, yeah okay. I don’t always come here though. I live back that way in town.” Felicia gestures back the way they came, putting the herbs they collected into the pouch tied around her waist.

“That would please me very much to see you again Felicia.” He smiled charmingly, handing her the herbs he had picked.

“S-sure, okay.”

“You don’t sound so sure.” Niki looked concerned. “…did your familiar tell you what I am?”

“No I just, it’s just, uh.”

“She’s flustered.” Crystal puts plainly.

“…oh. I’m sorry if I’ve done something to make you uncomfortable.” Niki apologized.

“No you didn’t, it’s just that I can’t, I don’t. Ugh.”

“What she’s trying to say is that you haven’t done anything wrong or made her feel uncomfortable. This is her first outing with someone other than myself or her uncle.” Crystal explains.

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah what she said.” Felicia blushes slightly.

“Perhaps I should let you go home now malyshka. The sun is starting to go down.” Niki nodded towards the setting sun. “May I walk you home?”

Felicia blushes at the name, she didn’t know what it meant but she had a feeling it was something endearing. “Uh sure, I hadn’t noticed that the sun was going down until you said something.”

He held a hand out to her. “Shall we?”

“Yeah okay.” She accepts his hand, closing her pouch as she stood up.

“You are quite lovely.” He grinned, placing a kiss on her hand as he helped her up.

“Thank you.” Felicia smiles, hiding her face as she blushes even more.

“Felicia if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re a little love struck.” Crystal comments, smirking as best as a dog could.

“No, maybe, so.” Felicia pulls her hand from Niki’s, avoiding Crystal’s gaze.

“Okay Felicia.” Crystal starts leading the way home.

Niki chuckled to himself, amused at Felicia’s shyness towards his advances. “So how long has your family been practicing magic? If it’s not too bold of me.”

“Not at all.” She waves off the concern. “Um, special gifts run in the family. My mother can see into one’s future, my uncle practices magic. It skipped my father and was passed down to me. We were all born with something.”

“Fascinating.”

“Yeah kinda, you get used to everyone in your family having some kind of gift.”

“What’s your gift malyshka?”

“I have white magic. How come I wasn’t able to see you earlier in the tree?”

Niki opened his mouth to respond, looking surprised. “I-um…” He looked unsure of what to say. “… I was hiding myself from you.”

“How do you do that? I’ve been trying to figure that out for years.”

“I- I’m not a magic user Felicia. It comes easily to me.” Niki stared at the ground as they walked.

“Not a magic user? So then how did you do that?”

Niki finally looked up to meet her gaze. “I’m not human Felicia, you really haven’t noticed? I’ve already healed from my fall.”

“No I haven’t noticed, I thought Crystal’s comment was just a mean comment.”

“No, she was telling the truth.” Niki sighed, stopping where he was and glancing around before revealing his true form. He looked mostly the same, albeit including two small horns that peeked out from his messy brown hair, and a forked tail that waved behind him. “I suppose now is as good as any to come clean with you.”

Felicia was at a loss for words, she wasn’t sure how to process this new information. “Ah, um well okay then.” “You okay Felicia?” Crystal’s tone was concerned, she couldn’t tell if her magic user was okay or not.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just new is all.”

Niki quickly re-hid his tail and horns, hoping that she wouldn’t run away screaming now. They usually had that effect on humans who weren’t under his charms. “Felicia?” He asked carefully.

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright? You look a little spooked love.”

“Deep breaths Felicia, remember how your mother taught you how to calm down. Just breathe.”

Felicia takes a deep breath, calming her beating heart. “Yeah I’m okay.” She says with a small smile.

“Oh good, you had me worried there for a second.” Niki smiled warmly. “So, you’re not frightened by me?” “It’s something new but nothing a little adjusting can’t fix.”

At this Niki laughed. “I’m sorry but this is amusing to me, I just revealed to you that you’ve been picking herbs with a demon of lust all day and you just seem to shrug it off like it’s no big deal.”

“It kind of is no big deal really.” Felicia shrugs and continues on her way back home. “I never felt like I was in danger.”

“And you never were.” Niki followed along, looking relieved.

“Exactly.” Felicia smiles at him.

“Might I still see you again soon?” Niki stopped at her doorstep. 

“Of course.” Felicia nods, Crystal standing beside her.

Nikolai grinned. “Then I shall bid you goodnight my fair maiden, and shall we see each other again soon.”

“Goodnight Nikolai.”

“See you around maybe Nikolai.” Crystal says her goodbyes, nodding her head. “Come on Felicia, your uncle might be worried about you.“

"Oh, yeah, of course.” She didn’t want to go inside but Crystal was right. “I’m not doing anything tomorrow so, yeah.” Felicia finally opens her door and walks inside, closing the door behind her.

[beekeeperofeden]

fic: everywhere like mill dust

Another fic from this batch of spring cleaning.  (This has been in some form of draft since last August, y'all.  Shoutout to cohabbitation, who has kindly endured me yelling about it and needing help about a thousand times between then and now.) I posted a link last night, but didn't have time to properly post it here (and fix the em-dashes) until now.

Summary:  Polypuddle hair-braiding in a sunlit meadow.  Artemis/Dahlia/Drizzt/Jarlaxle.  Possibly the most saccharine thing I've ever written. Wordcount: 2086 Dreamwidth crosspost

They had fallen into a pond and were letting themselves and their clothing recover before they went on their way. Cloaks and tunics had been shed and draped over branches to dry in the sun. The four of them lounged in the grass, letting the heat and the light evaporate the riverwater from their skin. Dahlia ignored the mud dripping from her staff and immediately started unbraiding her hair to let it dry faster. Drizzt had flopped onto a sunny patch of grass near the edge of the pond to rest. Artemis was fussing over his dagger, trying to dry it and muttering about rust. Jarlaxle had draped himself over Artemis' shoulders, barely staying out of the way, eyes closed as he drank in the sunlight like a cat. (Artemis had only recently started allowing Jarlaxle to get that close, and Jarlaxle still seemed to be walking the knife-sharp line between proximity and annoyance with uncharacteristic levels of restraint.) Dahlia was halfway through undoing her braid when she looked at Drizzt and cackled. He blinked at her. "Kelp," she said. "Pardon me?" "From the river. You have kelp in your hair." He ran his hands through his hair, trying to find it, but Dahlia sat up and reached forward. "Here, let me." She frowned. "What did you do, tie it in? Get closer, this could take a while." He arranged himself where she had a better view and leaned back. The fingers running through his hair were soothing. From the corner of his eye, he could see Dahlia poke Artemis's foot with her own. "Can you finish unbraiding me? It'll take hours to dry, otherwise." An annoyed huff of air. "That cloth isn't dry, so all you're doing is working water into the grooves of the metal." Drizzt shifted so that he could the others reflected in the pond. Artemis had set aside his dagger and settled behind Dahlia to start untangling the braid with an expression that faintly resembled trepidation. Jarlaxle stretched across the area of grass he had vacated, watching the three of them with a wistful smile. He'd pulled off his boots and was letting his feet dangle off the bank and into the water. "Got one." Dahlia pulled out a strand of green and dropped it on Drizzt's lap. He picked it up and frowned, rolling the green stem between his fingers. "That is not kelp," he said. "That's starwort." Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow and poked at the water with a toe, sending ripples through his reflection. "There is a difference?" "Kelp is only in the ocean." Dahlia huffed and pulled out another strand. Jarlaxle glanced at Artemis, who was concentrating on the red hair in front of him, and opened his mouth to speak. "My friend, you have a—" He half-turned, reaching towards Artemis' head. He'd lost his usual ponytail in the pond and his hair hung in wet locks. "What, another plant?" "No." He reached forward, extricating an iridescent green water-beetle from a strand of Artemis' hair. He leaned forward enough to put his hand in Artemis' line of sight so he could see the beetle skittering across Jarlaxle's fingers, then returned it to the pond with a graceful flick. Jarlaxle absently smoothed out the strand of hair he had disturbed pulling out the beetle. When Artemis glanced at him, but didn't object, he ran his fingers through another strand, gently pulling out tangles and separating it into smaller branches. Meanwhile, the pile of starwort on Drizzt's lap had grown by three pieces. Dahlia seemed to have moved from removing plants to just finger-combing Drizzt's hair. He leaned back, enjoying the sensation and absently fiddling with the starwort. "You seem to have overstated the case for your hair," Artemis said quietly. "It seems fairly dry." "Oh." Dahlia sounded surprised, if somewhat distracted. "I just found another piece of weed, though. Rebraid it for me while I get this out?" Drizzt's fingers stilled. He was worried that the request would shatter the unspoken peace that they'd somehow created. But Artemis shrugged and started separating Dahlia's hair into strands. Drizzt eyed the starwort in his lap, then the pile of Jarlaxle's belongings. His hat was conspicuously absent, apparently lost somewhere downstream. He started weaving the starwort together. There was a cluster of birdsfoot trefoil and another of violets in the grass overlooking the pond. He plucked several blossoms and wove them together with the starwort. Unknownst to him, Jarlaxle was struggling. He'd started braiding Artemis' hair with every expectation of being pushed away. Now that he'd gotten this far, he realized he'd used the basis for the braids that drow nobles used to indicate their rank within the house. Habit, he cursed silently. He hadn't done braids like this for centuries, but his hands had made them anyway. He wasn't sure that he could braid something that wasn't somehow an indicator of drow social ranking. If he was assigning a rank anyway... he glanced forward at Drizzt. Technically, this would have been included in the younger drow's education. But since House Do'Urden's structure had been a bit lacking, perhaps Drizzt wouldn't recognize the pattern that Jarlaxle wanted to use. With a grin, he started braiding. As he reached the end of one of the strands, he noticed Artemis cursing under his breath. The twists he'd been trying to include in Dahlia's hair were rapidly undoing themselves. "Having difficulty, khal'abbil?" Jarlaxle asked in drow. "This isn't something I ever learned to do." "Let me help." He leaned forward, rested his chin on Artemis' shoulder, and stuck the end of the braid in his mouth to stop it from unraveling while his hands demonstrated a pattern that would work in Dahlia's hair. After a couple passes, he handed it back to Artemis, who had learned it as quickly as he learned everything else. Jarlaxle enjoyed a moment of rest, then heard a choking noise ahead of him. Drizzt was turned around and staring at him. Specifically at the braid in his mouth. Drizzt's hands flew through the series of signs. Consort braids? Really? Jarlaxle grinned around the hair and signed back. They seemed appropriate. And they look nice. Drizzt opened his mouth but seemed to lack the words. Entreri tried to turn his head, but went in the wrong direction and tugged the untied braid away from Jarlaxle. "What did you do to him?" he asked as Jarlaxle caught the braid between his fingers and resumed his work. "Nothing." He pressed a light kiss to the nape of Artemis' neck. "I think he's just flustered. Braids look good on you." "I want to see," said Dahlia. She turned, but Artemis' hands were tangled in her hair and he was tugged forward with a growl. She raised an eyebrow. "They're crooked." "I haven't done anyone's hair for a few centuries now," Jarlaxle admitted sheepishly. "I'm rather out of practice." Artemis was still glaring at Jarlaxle. "Turn your head, please," he said. "I need to get the other side." Artemis did not turn his head. Dahlia leaned back and kissed him. "They do look nice, even crooked," she said. Drizzt made another noise that sounded like a creaking hinge, then went back to focusing on whatever he was making in his lap. Artemis sighed as he saw all his work on Dahlia's hair had been shaken out, then went back to it.  This time he started weaving the stems of small blue-and-white flowers in with it.  Jarlaxle scooted a bit closer to the water to be able to reach the hair he hadn't braided yet. Drizzt looked back and untangled his hands from the flowers and starwort. Does he know the terms of this relationship? he asked in sign. "Can you translate?" Dahlia asked Artemis. "No," he said sourly. Jarlaxle laughed. No one but you will recognize the significance, in any case, he responded. He bit his lip. Anything less than this seemed... incomplete. Drizzt nodded, reluctantly ceding the point. Dahlia poked him in the side. "Didn't you mention once that dark elves use braids to mark social class?" she asked. Artemis' shoulders stiffened. Drizzt sighed. "It's a little more complicated than that," he said. "What do they mean?" Jarlaxle winced at the knife's edge in Artemis' voice. Even small things provoked his distrust, these days. Jarlaxle hadn't gotten used to it yet. Drizzt opened his mouth to answer, but paused as Jarlaxle shook his head. Artemis saw the exchange and scowled. "Tell me, or I'm taking them out." Jarlaxle pulled his hands away. "They're the braids used to identify a consort of the head of house," he said. "I suppose the comparable standing on the surface is a lover or paramour." Drizzt frowned slightly. Jarlaxle wasn't technically lying, but he'd used the braids that indicated a highly valued consort, one who had been taken on for their skills and political connections, and who would not be easily discarded. A more accurate translation would have been ­husband, rather than lover. Artemis looked at him, clearly hoping for a more reliable source of information than Jarlaxle. Drizzt coughed. Artemis glared at him. "That is accurate," Drizzt finally said. "Though he's understating a little." Artemis's eyes narrowed as Jarlaxle's widened. "Go on." Drizzt looked at Jarlaxle's stricken expression, then took mercy. "Depending on what the consort brings to their house, the matron may consider them disposable. The braids Jarlaxle used indicate the exact opposite." "So you're broadcasting to anyone who can read these that they should try to use me as a hostage?" Jarlaxle shrugged. "Technically yes, but anyone who can read these will be so offended by seeing a noble's braids on a human that they'll be distracted from the battle." Jarlaxle tugged on one of them softly, making sure it would stay in. "Kimmuriel in particular would be appalled, but that's specifically because it's you." Artemis grinned.  "Very well. They can stay." The patch of flowers he'd been using for Dahlia's hair was bare. He pointed at one next to Jarlaxle's knee.  "I'll need some of those." "What are you doing?" Dahlia asked. This time when she turned, Artemis was ready for her and moved with her head. "You will see when I am done." Since Dahlia was distracted anyway, Drizzt took the opportunity to walk around and lean against Jarlaxle's back.  He wrapped his arms around him in a one-sided hug, being sure not to obstruct Jarlaxle's attempts to tie off the last part of the braids.  Jarlaxle leaned back with a low murmur of contentment. Drizzt placed the starwort-and-flowers wreath on Jarlaxle's head, lightly brushing the tips of his ears with his fingers. "To replace your hat." Jarlaxle looked at his reflection in the water and smiled, tilting it to a slightly jauntier angle. Artemis turned to look.  "It is less offensive than your old hat.  You should get someone to cast a preservation spell on it so it never wilt—" He was cut off by Dahlia—who had managed to get a good look at her braid while he was snarking—spinning and tackling him. "I was removing plants from Drizzt's hair," she said, fingers dancing over the exposed skin of his neck and stomach. "Why would you add plants to mine?" Rather than respond, he squirmed and tried to tickle back, only slightly impeded by trying to avoid defend all points of vulnerability. "You can't trick someone into being married to you," Drizzt said in Jarlaxle's ear.  He could feel as Jarlaxle's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, though whether at the statement or the intense swearing in front of them was unclear. "Of course I can." Drizzt made an exasperated noise into the back of Jarlaxle's neck, which only provoked more laughter.  Jarlaxle shifted so he could push a lock of Drizzt's hair (now starwort-free) out of his face. "I assume you're happier without being assimilated into the structure of my 'house'?" "Yes."  Drizzt looked forward, to where Artemis was starting to lose the war with Dahlia.  "Although, as far as houses go, this one is not terrible." Jarlaxle poked Dahlia in the side with his foot, distracting her long enough for Artemis to make a break for it. "I believe he's also ticklish behind the knees," he said to Dahlia as she scrambled after him. "Whose side are you on?" Artemis demanded as he was tackled again. Jarlaxle just laughed.  Drizzt dodged as the tickle-fight got closer, and Artemis and Dahlia paused long enough to cooperate in pushing Jarlaxle back into the stream with a splash.

[ladyhallen94]

The End of a Banishment

Three weeks before the elections, Alice woke up with the nagging need to move to her grandmothers house.

It was a nice house, but simply too large for one family to have. Just simply, impossible large. Alice had once tried to catalogue all the rooms in the house but just lost count. It was as if the house itself didn’t like to be measured.

Alice got used to inanimate objects having opinions of their own. It wasn’t so bad and at least if you treated them right, they wouldn’t object to being used. It was a side effect of having taken too strongly from her grandmother.

She had a feeling that nagging need to move into the house was another quirk of her blood. Her mother never could explain it properly, other than knowing more than people.

So, with just that urge, Alice packed up her bags for a weeks clothing, all her documentation that labelled her as having something extra and moved out of her tiny apartment.

Her landlord, a man with cat-yellow eyes, sighed.

“Must be something important, if you have to do it without any prior notice,” he murmured. He was one of the few people who knew about her. Being part of the Other community, people often knew everyone else. Mainly for self-defense.

“I don’t know if it’s a calling,” Alice said. “But…there’s a need? I don’t know. A need to hide.”

The landlords eyes were wide. “Alright. I’ll spread the word.”

Alice wished he wouldn’t. While there would be some people who would appreciate the warning, there would also be others who didn’t like false alarms.

“Alice, you’ve never actually given me false alarms before,” he reminded her. “Now, stop being modest and get moving.”

Alice nodded, feeling a little bit better. “Just remember, I’m not a Seer,” she repeated, feeling the need to reiterate things.

“Yeah, you just know.”

Alice gave up.

..

The house was situated in the middle of the city. It was a large, sprawling land bracketed by fruit trees and large, rustling grass. Even if it was in the middle of the city, the trees were tall enough and thick enough to block sound and make it seem isolated.

In the middle of it all was the house.

Wreathed in spells, the windows blurred as though it was moving. It made measuring things difficult. If Alice didn’t already know that the house was sentient, she would have believed it after spending a night inside. The bathroom tended to rearrange itself according to how she liked it.

“I’m here, I’m home,” she called, opening the door that didn’t even pretend to be locked. It swung invitingly open, like it had just been closed and not closed for a good twenty years. “Stop calling, I’m here.”

The chandelier flickered and turned on.

“What’s the problem?”

The lights turned on, one by one until Alice could clearly see what was lit and what wasn’t. The house was leading her to the library and she followed, leaving her bag on the sofa by the fireplace.

It was clearly agitated and it showed. By the time Alice reached the library on the second floor, the lights blazed.

On the bookstand by the door, a book was open and being flicked to and fro by the wind. She took the hint and bent close.

“Of all the creatures that witches spent battling,” she read aloud. “Demons are the worst. Banished to the Otherworld by the Coven of Witches in the year 1905 after the disaster that was the Spanish Influenza. They are characterized by their yellow eyes and the scent of sulfur that follows them. They also have an aversion to cats.”

Alice breathed deep, trying not to panic.

“But,” she whispered. “The UCO just declared demons to be a myth. If the Coven of Witches did this and then scattered afterwards, that leaves a mark on the World. Why would the UCO declare demons to be a myth?”

Alice had no answer and the house rattled around her in agitation.

..

Since the house was clearly averse to letting her leave the house – as evidenced by the doorknob that wouldn’t twist open and the trees that suddenly blocked her way outside the gates – Alice made herself at home.

She picked a bedroom, almost jumped out of her skin when she found the drawers to be full of clothes her size and even felt her eyebrows climbing when she saw the pantry overflowing with food.

Evidently, it had prepared itself for her arrival.

“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful,” she said.

The windows preened.

Half-forgotten lessons with her grandmother resurfaced and Alice ended up baking cookies. The scent wafted up to the third floor and the house actually felt lived in. She knew the house appreciated it by the bubble bath it drew up when she headed for bed.

..

On Alice’s third day, when she was arguing with the house on whether she could go outside and get some other supplies, the doorbell rang.

She paused in the act of wiping the glasses and glared at the nearest mirror. “This discussion is not yet finished,” she declared.

Opening the door, she found herself face to face with a petite woman, glossy wings protruding from her back and an energetic smile.

“Hi!” the half-fairy greeted. Alice knew she was half since her skin wasn’t green. “I saw your ad in the internet and wondered if you were still hiring? I’m a good cook and can work around substitutes in case of allergies and Other problems.” Alice blinked at her. The woman didn’t even pause. “I can also bake and clean and sew. So anything is really fine. I just need a place to stay. The cats are all saying their fur is standing up and – “

“Wait, wait, just stop,” Alice said, trying not to shout. Fairies didn’t like sudden loud noises. “Why are you here?”

The woman looked bewildered. “You posted an ad in the internet asking about housekeeping.”

Alice sighed and pulled the woman inside. Once they were seated inside the kitchen, Alice glared at the mirror. “You posted that ad, didn’t you? I thought I told you not to do things like these without asking?”

In response, all the drawers in the kitchen, which had been obligingly opened once Alice took out the polishing rag, drew shut.

The half-fairy goggled. “The drawers just moved.” She stated carefully.

Alice sighed again. “It has a mind of its own. Most things do, when they spend enough time around me. And the house was likely the one who posted the advert too. Most probably, it convinced my laptop to do it. People,” she said loudly. “We have consent issues. Didn’t we have this discussion when I was fifteen?”

The woman laughed, a gay and infectious sound. “You must have some sorcerer blood! They’re the only ones I know that can do that, even by accident. So can I work here?”

Alice nodded. “Why do you want to work for food and lodging anyway?”

“But that’s just it,” she said seriously. “Anyone who has a drop of Other in them are hiding. Apparently, someone with Seer blood said to be careful or something.”

Alice had the feeling she could blame her old landlord for that. But…

“Wait, where did you find my advert?” she asked, feeling dread.

The woman obligingly rolled out a printed sheet and Alice felt blood drain from her face. “Is that Facebook? And the UCO page? And that…”

“The official chat room for the Other community,” she supplied. “I was really lucky to get here first. I think there’s going to be a lot more people coming here.”

Alice dropped her forehead to the table and she couldn’t even hurt herself since the table softened to avoid hurting her.

“Oh my god. What are you planning, you crazy house?” she muttered.

…

The half-fairy woman’s name was Susan and Alice set her to cooking or baking.

It was amazing to have conversation that actually talked back.

“This was your grandmother’s house?” Susan asked. “Wow, it’s amazing the UCO hasn’t seized this yet.”

Alice shrugged, trying to apples. It was slow going since she didn’t particularly like holding anything sharp. “I think they tried?” she said. “I remember a year when Mum was going gray about grandmum. She and dad had a spectacular row about it.”

“It’s really well taken care of,” Susan said. “Especially the garden. I really like your trees. There’s something…different about them.”

Since Alice had seen them move and walk around, they definitely weren’t ordinary trees.

…

Alice’s next applicant was an elf, pointy ears and all.

She stared at the man when he volunteered to be the gardener.

“Pick a room,” she said. “There’s a lot.”

“My name is Samuel,” he said, a melodic trill in his voice. “Thank you for sheltering me.”

Alice blinked dazedly at him and then marched determinedly up her room to continue arguing with the laptop about taking down the adverts. She didn’t need more people.

…

Even with the advert being taken down, people still arrived in staggering, slow numbers.

After Samuel came three more elves. They all took care of the gardens. A werewolf and his mate, a half-lizard. They started a vegetable garden – which struck Alice as ironic since werewolves and lizards didn’t like vegetables and were as carnivorous as possible.

Then came the pixies who roosted in the Roof Gardens and only came down to steal some desserts. They did amazing cleaning and swept the house of any dust at night when everyone slept.

Two gnomes arrive, bringing with them one earth nymph and two tree nymphs. Alice, at this point sits down with Susan and tries not to pull out her hair.

“How am I supposed to feed an earth nymph and the gnomes?” Alice hissed at the fairy. “Aren’t gnomes vegetarian?”

Susan giggled. “It’s a good thing Erik and James have just harvested their first crops then. It’s like fate. You gather such amazing people, Alice.”

It definitely wasn’t Alice’s doing. She merely stared at all the people arriving and kept worrying.

Meanwhile, the elections draw closer.

….

The first time Alice sees a cat when she’s doing laundry, she dismissed it as unimportant. Its green eyes stare at her, and then seemingly finds her suitable.

The next time she sees a cat; there are four of them sunning themselves on a patch of sunlight in the library.

“Okay, this is definitely not normal,” she said with a frown.

The cats ignore her.

..

Two pairs of vampire mates arrive and seek sanctuary. Alice tried not to cringe when Erik eyes them up.

“Please don’t fight,” she pleaded. “The house will definitely get angry.”

At that statement, the pixies that were watching the proceedings by the roof beams, gasp.

The vampires paused and Erik goes still.

“I’m not fighting them,” Erik announced. “But I’m not going to make any promises if they mess with my vegetables.”

The vampires nod at him regally.

“What can you do?” Alice asked before someone else exploded. Vampires tend to make people irritated. “We can sort your books. And do repairs. We also brought with us some animals. We know you like fresh milk and we can get blood from the cows as well so it balances evenly for us.”

Alice tried not to laugh out loud. Vampires volunteering for animal husbandry. Vampires volunteering to be repair men.

….

Marcia, one of the most well-known in the Other community, shows up and it nails the coffin to how weird her life is.

Because Marcia, White Mage extraordinaire, just volunteered to be her librarian.

“I can also help raise defensive spells,” Marcia adds at Alice’s flummoxed silence, mistaking it for hesitation.

“That’s fine,” Susan interjects for her. “But...”

The words, why are you here remains unsaid, but the White Mage hears it anyway.

“I did a divination spell once the warning reached me,” Marcia says, like its normal for someone to manage a divination spell and have it work. Gosh, it’s blowing Alice’s mind. “And my results said that the best place to be in right now is the house of a Witch.”

Her houseguests look at Alice in interest. The words take a while to penetrate.

“But!” Alice says with surprise. “I’m not a witch! I mean…I don’t think I am? I can’t work with plants for shit and my empathy is out of whack. I don’t have a green thumb!”

Marcia finally looks confused, which makes Alice feel better. There are finally two of them suffering here.

“I do agree that an affinity with plants is a sign of a witch, but you are so obviously magical and good with witchcraft that it’s affecting everything around you, even non-living things,” the White Mage says. “The cats agree with me,” she adds, pointing out the three cats twining by her feet.

Alice, for the first time in a while, finally knows what she is. And she doesn’t appreciate it in the slightest.

…

On the day of the election, the camera pans to the president candidate and Alice almost jumps a foot in the air when his eyes turn yellow. Not dragon-gold or cat-yellow but demon-yellow.

An instinctive revulsion rises up in her and Alice finally understands why she had known to hide.

Because demons had finally come back from their banishing and Alice was one of the few Witches left in the world.

.

@caffeinewitchcraft, I wrote this for you!

[psychicdinneranon-blog]

Five Times Shou Eats Something He Shouldn’t (And 1 Time He Doesn’t)

This is part 3 of a series based off the MiB AU! From bakanohealthy and qcatter Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 

Speaking of @qcatter HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRIEND!!!!!!! This would not even be a thing without their lovely ideas and allowing me to chat their ear off.

(Third time: In Which Shou Doesn’t Feel Very Good) (Also, in which I get to write Starchildren grooming each other!!!)

Ten year old Shou wondered how he had come to this, curled up on a rafter and clutching for dear life because if he let go he knew he would just drop like a stone. He curled over his gut protectively, making a sound like a fork having gotten stuck in a garbage disposal.

Everything hurt.

Everything hurt and he felt like he was burning from the prickling sensation of a thousand poking hot knives that had developed over his body. His limbs felt stiff and heavy and all he wanted to do was sleep in a patch of sunlight only he was sure that it would hurt too.

That and the clouds, separated only by the thin roof above his head, rumbled above him threatening rain down on all below.

The thing was this hadn’t started out as such a horrible day. He had woken up with the sun and got to watch a particularly colorful sunrise before the clouds overtook it and swallowed the rest of the sky. And then while he had been wandering amongst his father’s employees his father had found him and gave him an red-orange colored tube of neon and had asked him if he wanted to eat it.

Of course Shou said yes.

There was a static spark as the tube passed from father to son and Shou eagerly gobbled it up. Taking only a few seconds for Shou to swallow the tube whole, licking his lips as it went.

But afterwards the day just went downhill from there. Shou felt sluggish and moving began to feel like such a chore. He knew even when he had started climbing up the steel columns to get to the rafter that he was moving at half his normal speed.

And then once the weight settled, the shakes started.

He curled around himself, almost trying himself into a knot like one of those cartoon snakes. It was like he was trying to hold himself together before he fell apart like some factory machine.

And that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that Shou was alternatively frozen and on fire and he couldn’t make his stupid body just pick one.

Was this what being sick was like for a human? No wonder his mother stayed in bed for the whole day when she got sick. If he had woken up like this, he wouldn’t want to move either.

Shou pressed his feverish face against the cool metal of the beam and alternated between keening quietly for comfort and making that same metal in the garbage disposal noise he had earlier.

Surely something he did would make him feel better soon.

Something had to.

---

Serizawa ducked with his umbrella as he walked through the building’s doors. The President didn’t mind when he decided to wander through the grounds. As long as he was careful to keep out of other’s way he was free to do as he chose.

Normally Serizawa would find someplace calm and quiet and settle down for a nice nap. He preferred the dark over the sun anyways, so on this overcast day it would be easy to fall asleep. Or perhaps he could start a calming grooming session. He did think he saw some dusty energy right along that one spot across his shoulders. Again.

Well it’s not as if he didn’t like groom out his energy. It gave him something to do.

However, all of those idle thoughts came to a halt when he heard the grating sound of metal in the garbage disposal. It buzzed loudly for a few moments before softening its pitch into something a little more droning. But loud or soft, something about the sound struck Serizawa as undeniably wrong.

He decided to investigate.

Shifting into his starform and all the while keeping a tight grip on his umbrella with his tail, Serizawa scuttled across the floor in search of the source of the sound.

And once he had gotten as close as he could to the source from the ground, Serizawa stood puzzled for a few moments. He looked around himself and double checked his surroundings for anything, any piece of machinery malfunctioning or something to give him an explanation.

The grating buzzed louder at the same time Serizawa remembered that putting stuff in originally unreachable places for anyone else was actually an option here, encouraged even. So he peered curiously upwards.

And saw the dull swirling reddish oranges and spotty pinks of a Starchild tucked away in a corner, wound around one of the rafters just within sight of a large industrial window.

Shou stopped the noise and started to keen softly as he clutched the rafter beam like a teddy bear, like someone holding onto a life raft for dear life, or like how Serizawa clutched at his umbrella.

Serizawa wasted no time in floating upwards to Shou. He could see the child take a deep breath before the coins in the garbage disposal started up again and now he was worried because Shou looked terrible. His expression was twisted in pain and he was shaking against the bar. As Serizawa moved cautiously closer, he realized could feel no ambient energy radiating off the Starchild.

Shou then gave off a low keening whine, interspersed with soft whimpers. Then he curled further in on himself, hiding what would be his stomach in his human from away under his tail.

While Serizawa had heard the term “sick as a dog” before, it was with Shou’s soft keening and whimpering as he pressed his face once again to the rafter that Serizawa felt that this would be the perfect way to describe the poor Starchild.

“Shou?” He questioned as he emitted soft repetitive sounds of waves crashing in on themselves. “You okay?”

While Serizawa did not particularly like the splattering crash, the first day that Shou had met him the boy had imitated that sound over and over and over. Later on he had even admitted that it was his favorite noise that he had heard Serizawa make.

Shou keened loudly and pressed himself even more tightly to the rafter. But the sound was cut off as other series of shivers wracked his small form and the grating sound filled Serizawa’s nonexistent ears for several seconds.

Serizawa repeated his question but again there was no answer, only soft whimpering like a dog left out in the rain responded.

It was then that Serizawa noticed he could see some dusty energy clinging to Shou’s starform. It swirled lazily through his system, cloudy and sluggish. And Serizawa knew what that was. He saw it in his own grooming from time to time after a really bad day.

Or a really bad meal. Serizawa knew he could eat several kinds of things, but he preferred human food the best.

Maybe Shou had eaten something he shouldn’t have and was hiding up here until the effects passed through his system.

Serizawa shifted his umbrella and tucked it carefully away behind him, and moved his grip on the handle from his tail to his tail and his feet. Now he could properly groom Shou with his hands rather than trying to make a mess juggling things. He shifted a little closer, making more repetitive crashing noises.

Again and again the waves crashed as Serizawa carefully and methodically began to separate out Shou’s dull red-orange energy from the cloudy greys of whatever had clung to him like static to a balloon.

Shou’s keening and whimpers softened and slowed as Serizawa “brushed” Shou out. Instead what began to replace them was the sound of another soft crashing of waves against rocks, against sand, against water. Serizawa tried to hide his smile as Shou mimicked him, and started to pitch his sounds higher or lower to give Shou something to focus on.

The child was constantly moving, Serizawa supposed that it made sense that it would have taken getting sick like this to make him stop.

And that terrible grating noise did not make a reappearance. ‘Thank goodness.’ He thought as he continued to groom, twisting his own energy just so in order to tug the static cling out of Shou’s energy field. Then he grabbed it in his teeth and threw it away as far as he could. They were both lucky that energy could phase through walls. Serizawa had no doubt that it would dissipate by the drizzling rain.

Said rain continued throughout the grooming session and Serizawa steadfastly ignored the rumbling thunder. Though he did glance up at the sky whenever he caught sight of the lightning. And some distant part of him reminded him of the feeling he got the first time he had seen a wolf hunt on television.

It was steadfastly in search of prey.

The second time he had noticed the lightning he realized that such a laughing, raging, brilliant flash was going to be the last they would see that night. He made his waves louder and gently uncurled his tail from his umbrella, while still clutching at it with his feet. Then he laid it across the part of Shou’s back that had already gotten brushed through.

Shou gave a soft appreciative purr in response to the action.

Serizawa never stopped making the sound of his waves, even throwing a few seagull sounds in just to make Shou crack a smile. All the while, he continued to fastidiously groom.

Meanwhile Shou could not remember the last time he had gotten groomed like this. Any grooming of his own was always a quick brush through and a once over to make sure nothing had gotten stuck to him somehow during the day.

Serizawa was very thorough.

When he looked back on this moment later on, he would not be able to tell you when exactly he had fallen asleep but he knew he had. Because one moment he was listening to the soft grumble thunder and high wild laughter of the lightning and Serizawa’s crashing wave noises…

And the next the warehouse had become dark, with only his and Serizawa’s dim glow and the faint reflective bits and pieces of electric light seeping in from outside.

Shou made a soft purr and nuzzled back into the impromptu cuddle pile with Serizawa.

However when Serizawa woke up; he was alone. He could see the bright rays of the sun trickling through one of the windows across the building. And without another thought he quickly jumped down off the rafter, floating down to the ground gently as he shifted into his human form.

Then he went off to find the President, as it was his job to be by his side.

The next time he saw Shou three days had passed since the night of grooming. Shou mentioned none of his previous encounter with Serizawa, so he just assumed that Shou would much rather forget needing to be groomed by one of his father’s employees.

The next chance encounter after that merely cemented Serizawa’s theory.

[kessielrg]

Wouldn’t It Be Nice? [An Undertale Oneshot]

Summary: A really sappy oneshot about Orenda (an OC) and Asriel after the events of the long hiatused and unfinished Leech. I wanted it to kick off a oneshot series about the two, but I’m not sure how far it’ll go so have this to start! Title is named after the Beach Boys song of the same name.

If you like the story, please consider buying me a coffee. This story is also available on Wattpad.

Rating: K+

Word Count: 1,035

Let the little gypsy rest. Gently laying across the circle of buttercups as if the world isn't there. Let her remain on what sunlight falls into the Underground, soaking it all in with a peaceful smile. A shadow overcomes the gypsy girl- she doesn't notice it at first, but when she does, her smile only grows.

“Asriel...” she greets, saying the name in near whisper. The newcomer smiles at her saying his name; her voice, while quiet and small, was one of his favorite sounds.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks as he finds a spot next to her. The gypsy girl didn't notice it at first, but he had brought them food in a small wooden box. It smelled almost like honey, whatever it was.

“I wasn't thinking,” the gypsy girl told the goat child, “I was dreaming.”

“Oh...” came a rather absent answer. “What were you dreaming about then?”

“Us.”

“D-don't say that!” the goat child informed the gypsy; his face flushing a bright red in embarrassment. “You know we run on borrowed time...”

“And that's why I dream,” the gypsy insisted with a sweet smile, “So we have more time.”

But this only made the goat child pout.

“I wish you shared this time with me. I can't see your dreams.”

The gypsy girl gave a sweet little laughter as she rolled over to get a better look at him. The goat child had done the same and nearly had to look away again from his own furious blushing. Once more, the gypsy laughed at her friend before leaning over to give him a small peck on the forehead. And as before, the goat child's face started to flush an ever deeper red; at this point, he might even faint. He always wondered if she did this to him on purpose. Maybe it was just the air of innocence and quiet in these times in-between. He valued these times because they were so uncertain. She did too, and this was how she showed him.

“I made us lunch.” he finally said to her, taking this opportunity to hide his face from her to properly get out the wooden box. “It's your favorite: honey soaked butterscotch pie.”

“But I'm not in the mood for sweets.” the gypsy girl playfully whined. “It'll ruin my appetite for dinner.”

“This is dinner.” Asriel sheepishly told her. “It's the only thing I know how to make, and I didn't want you to strain yourself with making something else. Or anything, for that matter.”

“Do you not like it when I make things for you?” the gypsy playfully pouted.

“N-no! I never said that!” Asriel quickly interjected. “Y-you just always get so tired after! And… and then we can't have more time to...”

The goat child was instantly shut up by a sweet, quick peck on the cheek. This time, he might have fainted as when he opened his eyes again, finding himself laying on the ground and the delighted face of the gypsy girl looking down at him. From this position, Asriel took the gratuitous opportunity to stare into her crystalline blue eyes- oh how they haunted him when he wasn't with her. He was almost confident that they could glow in the dark too, if given the opportunity.

This thought seemed to knock the goat child out of his stupor enough for him to flip her over- now he was the one straddling her and she was pinned to the ground. She even flashed him a teasing smile. So caught up in the moment now, Asriel only had to lean forward a little to kiss her without remorse. The gypsy girl emitted a giggling and comforted hum as she brought them closer together.

This was perfect, this little life together. No one could separate them, no one would even bother them. They just… existed in those ruins, together. What more could either of them wish for?

But then it happened- as simple as a little pop in your ear. Not long after, the gypsy woke up on a patch of flowers with a start. But these were different than the ones she were on not long ago. Looking down on her own body, she found with dismay that she was now several years younger. Someone had imposed a RESET, and her prince was once more a flower. Now all the gypsy could do was wait until that Someone worked their way through the Underground once more.

Meanwhile, still remaining in the bed of yellow flowers was no longer a prince, but a small flower quite different from the rest. He watched silently and with fire in his eyes as the fallen human made their way through the Underground once more. If it wasn't this child, then it was the other demon that haunted the Underground when no one looked. Nothing in this world wanted him to be happy, and if it wasn't for her then he would very well keep it that way. But the gypsy girl was like an early dessert, or receiving a present from your favorite relative; once you had a part of her, you only wanted more. If nothing else, the flower wanted the world to not take away his ability to love on such a short notice; couldn't it just fade over time after a RESET and not act like a switch had been activated? It would have been so much less jarring if that could happen.

But it didn't- it couldn't.

And so, the flower too waited for when the barrier would be broken once again so he could meet his gypsy. Somewhere, in a fleeting moment in his thoughts, he wondered if there could be other worlds where they could be together. Always happy together with no harm coming whatsoever. What a nice, foolish dream to think of, and he immediately wondered what had brought it on afterwords. Regardless, shrugging in a way that he only knew how as a flower, the little creature ducked into the earth to watch the fallen human make their way once more.

And maybe, just maybe, there truly was a world where the prince and gypsy girl were happy.

But only one.