#another deranged ramble for you you’re welcome

[micahdoesmusic]

Gillion and Language!! :D (another jrwi hc ramble)

Personally, I really love the head-cannon of common being Gillion’s second language and therefore having a little struggle. (Primordial being his first language)

For example like, when Gillion was first pulled onto their old ship, he would’ve struggled a little with translating the words in his head. The crew would get into little miscommunications over it and he’d get frustrated with trying to adjust - among the additional discomfort of being out of water.

(I think that could also be the reason why he speaks so formally, unable to speak common as naturally as his co-captains. Though, I feel it’s also fitting to his character that the elders would have hammered formality into his speech.)

Gillion would have nobody to talk to with ease, except for Pretzel of course, the only person he’d assume would understand. It would that way for a while, until Jay would stumble upon his conversation and answer him in (somewhat) fluent Primordial.

I feel that’d be one of the things that’d bring them closer in their early days, teaching each other little words to help with understanding. Jay would enjoy the practise, not often being able to speak Primordial with anyone but the teachers who had taught her or long lost friends from Featherbrook. It’d help solve the barrier between them :)

With others it’s not so easy, which is why Gillion is so boisterous and expressive, trying to communicate another way. He and Chip find a way of understanding, learning slowly to read each-other’s expression or through physical signs. They show affection through side hugs or leaning into one another or wrapping an arm around the other’s shoulder. Actions sometimes convey more than words do.

When Gillion bonds with Caspian it would be a relief, rambling about home in the language he is familiar with. It’s nostalgic and comforting, especially after missing home and being forced to adjust to the change of culture so quickly. Even in the tank, everyone around him speaks in familiar sounds. It’s nice to hear words he can decipher without having to think too hard, the meanings coming to him with ease.

The same struggle comes to Edyn as well, speaking in broken sentences when they all meet in a bar in All-port. She spends most of her time working in the tank, so she still has a hard time adjusting and trying to respond to Chip and Jay as they talk to her. Gillion helps her out, his common improving over time spent on the Albatross. She still whispers to him in Primordial as the night goes on, and it brings him comfort that he isn’t alone.

Some of the Riptide crew would try and learn with time too. Gillion would teach Ollie little phrases to entertain him or tell him undersea stories. Chip would do his best to learn as much as he could; small languages lessons in-between sparring or training. He’d probably suck at it, laughed at by Jay for mixing up completely different words. The effort means a lot to Gillion at least.

Okay, this got out of hand. Goodnight! snooooree mimimmimi

Also, if you like this head-cannon you should read this fic that made me think about it :D (It’s an unfinished Royalty AU and it’s really awesome!)

[inhuman-obey-me]

Knowledge is Wrath

Word Count: 1.8k Description: The Avatar of Wrath had mastered the art of pleasantries and placid smiles, a mask he wears nearly perfectly -- but if you try and take advantage of him, he won't hesitate to let it fall. Part of the A Demon's Nature series. Hereeeeee's Satan and his glorious wrath!! Note: Cabariel is a high-ranking demon named in the Ars Theurgia who has fifty dukes attend to him in the day, and another fifty dukes attend to him at night. Thalbus is one of the named night dukes, who are said to be deceitful and disobedient. Can also be found on AO3 here. content warning: gore gore gore, blood, body mutilation/horror

The Avatar of Wrath had mastered the art of pleasantries and placid smiles, burying the rage that always burned under his skin deep within the darkest parts of his soul. He would be more than wrath, more than the fury that everyone expected of him. At least, that is what he would constantly tell himself, knowing that many still found themselves on edge in his presence. It’s all an act, some who had witnessed his true self would say, others merely repeating it for his title and position alone.

There was a place where those whispers would fade away, however. The company of high-society, where he had gathered an array of acquaintances with whom he could discuss a variety of subjects, sharing his extensive knowledge and exchanging it for theirs. These connections only ran so deep, most never crossing the line into friendship -- but friendship is not what Satan sought. He wanted status, a curated image that placed him firmly in the echelons of the wise and out of the shadows of rage incarnate, out of the shadow of pride.

“Thank you again, Lord Satan. I can’t believe I’ll actually be able to see this scroll for myself!” A lesser demon eagerly walked alongside the Avatar of Wrath, accompanying him through the gates of the Demon Lord’s Castle.

“It’s my pleasure, Thalbus.” Satan gave the other his ever-polite smile. “Cabariel had mentioned multiple times that you were anxious to get a look at it, so I’m glad I can be of assistance.” Here he was, leading one such acquaintance to the Royal Archives housed at the castle. It was a privilege few had, one that Satan treasured greatly. He had been allowed by Lord Diavolo centuries ago to visit the archives as much as he pleased, and he did not let the offer go to waste.

They descend now, traversing through the grand passages of the castle -- both imposing and eerie, some corridors shrouded in darkness while others are aglow with flames. Portraits watched them pass by, whispered -- ‘a new visitor, how quaint’. Upon reaching the door that housed the array of treasured documents and scrolls, Satan whispers an incantation he knows well, the last of the words leaving his lips and turning into a spark of light that traces the intricate pattern carved in stone. With a click, the door opens, and the two walk in -- the door then heavily shutting behind them.

“Here we are.” Satan gestures to the main archive room, lined with towering shelves that nearly reached the domed ceiling. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

“It is, it is!” Thalbus gives him a grin, ever-so-slightly crooked. Clasping his hands together, his eyes scan the magnificent annals of the Devildom. “So … where is that scroll?”

“Impatient, aren’t we?” Satan merely smiles, though he feels the way his jaw wants to clench. “Come, it’s in one of the back rooms.”

Down a few aisles, through an archway, and they now are before a vitrine with a scroll neatly rolled out in full display, the parchment delicate from its age but its fibers intact due to restorative magic. It’s much smaller than one would expect, and thick ink is scrawled across it in ancient demonic tongue -- “The Word of the Regent”.

“Wow,” Thalbus gasps in awe, scuttling closer to the glass to get a good look at the prized artifact. “So it really does exist … “

“That it does.” Ah, what a smug look it was that now graced the Avatar’s features. “It really is fascinating, apparently written by one of the first kings. Many are still trying to decipher it’s more complicated and muddled passages, as it seems to speak of a series of powerful rituals that would grant whoever is able to perform it a great amount of power and wealth. Or, so say the urban legends, the actual validity is still debated and -- “

Satan continues to speak, showing off every bit of knowledge he has on the subject as Thalbus continues to admire the scroll. He gets a few ‘hmms’ and various other one-word acknowledgments in response, which is all he needs to continue his confident rambling. To be in the presence of another demon who understood the splendor of such a relic was refreshing, even if for only selfish reasons in that the Greater Demon could bestow an interested party in all his wisdom.

“Thank you once again, Lord Satan.” Thalbus gestures in great respect, hiding a rather satisfied smile as they both eventually leave the archive chamber. “I am incredibly lucky to have been able to be introduced to you, and to see the scroll for myself! Ah, what a dream come true!”

“Again, you are very welcome.” Picture-perfect smile, a steady gaze. They round a few corners, go down a flight of steps -- the portraits whisper again, “oh my, oh my”. They enter one of the dim passages, steps lost to shadows.

“Um, Lord Satan … forgive me, but is this the way back out?” Thalbus warily speaks up, eyes darting around the dark.

“Oh, no. No, it isn’t.” Satan laughs, shaking his head as a large smile stays plastered on his lips. A fool, the Avatar thinks to himself, he truly takes ME for a fool! How ridiculous, preposterous, outrageous. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice, Thalbus?”

“Pardon me?”

“Adorable, how you think you can feign innocence.” He laughs again, though malice bleeds through his voice this time. With a wave of his hand, the shriek of metal scraping against stone is heard -- a gate closes, and Thalbus now realizes he is trapped in a room with no escape. “So, why don’t you hand it over?”

“Oh … you mean, this?” The lesser demon produces a thin tube from his jacket, cocky grin splitting his lips. “I suppose you’re sharper than I realized. Didn’t think you would pay attention while you kept yapping and yapping.” How courageous, for him to act as if he wasn’t moments away from wrathful consequences, Thalbus would have one think. How utterly foolish, is what Satan knows.

Imperturbable smile still present, the Greater Demon steps closer and moves to snatch the contained scroll from the thief, but Thalbus has decided he’d much rather opt for more severe torment as he moves to hide it again. Were all demons of deceit this imprudent? The flames of wrath begin to grow within -- hotter, deadlier.

“How about we make a deal?” Thalbus tries. “You let me borrow the scroll, and I’ll grant you something in return.”

“Oh?” Satan’s smile widens, but his teeth grow sharper. “A deal you say? Truly, Thalbus, you continue to impress!” He begins to laugh, that laugh that sounded so melodic and cheerful and yet just a hint deranged. Satan tilts his head to the side, his eyes glowing a fierce green in the darkness. “You think that you of all demons can entice me with a deal? Just what could you possibly have to offer ME?” His laughter continues, growing more maniacal as his body continues to shift and distort. His claws grow longer, his tail thrashing about as flesh gives way at parts to bone, green flames tracing up his spine to match the searing verdant flames that now emit from his hollow eye sockets. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

Thalbus does not have time to respond, though the terror now present on every crevice of his being is answer enough. In an instant, claws are at his throat as he is held up against the wall, the sound of metal hitting the stone floor ringing out as the scroll slips from his grasp and rolls into the far corner of the room.

“Ah, looks like you’ve lost your bargaining chip!” There is a distortion to Satan’s voice, a grating echo. “That’s too bad.” His tail goes to flick at Thalbus’ cheek before roughly moving against his flesh, its sharp edges peeling away at his skin to reveal what lay underneath. The lesser demon tries to shriek, only to find no sound leaves him. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

Satan laughs again, before the claws of his other hand immediately go to grip Thalbus’ jaw, wrenching it open and piercing a claw through his aforementioned muscle. “Oh, guess it’s actually me.” As the lesser demon struggles, Satan can make out a garbled “Please!” as he sees tears leave the other’s eyes.

Please?

PLEASE?

What could this pathetic excuse of a demon, this wretch, this absolute shitstain be thinking that begging “please” would help get him out of this? This situation that he only had himself to blame, for daring to think that he could outwit Satan. The flames that danced atop wrath’s form grew brighter, hotter, larger -- and he unhooks his claw from the demon's tongue to instead grab hold of his jaw once more and rip it clean off his skull. Blood gurgles up and spills from the deceitful demon’s open cavity of a throat, muffling his continued screams which only sounded like music to Wrath’s ears.

Rage overflowed through every fiber of Satan’s being, his mind now clouded and his vision blurred among the inferno. His blood boils as he descends into madness, a flurry of demonic curses escaping through grotesque fangs until words become unintelligible screams that shake the stone walls in his fury.

Idiot, idiot, idiot, IDIOT!

The sharp bony horn that now protrudes from Wrath’s forehead is lowered to skewer an eye, then the other. Piece by piece, Thalbus is torn apart -- claws ripping apart limbs, teeth tearing out his organs, horn impaling muscle, tail grinding bone -- all while the smell of burnt flesh fills the room as flames lick at the remains. The sickening sounds of the lesser demon’s body being completely obliterated fill the otherwise empty chamber, a song of violence.

He is long dead before Satan is finished with him, painting the walls and floor with ichor and tissue and ashes of whatever else comprised the once corporeal form of Cabariel’s duke.

Ah, right. Cabariel …

Deep breath, count to ten … and Satan feels his form shift again, sharp edges folding away as his more human form comes into place. The haze in his mind is gone, the flames put out, the wrath forcibly buried back down as rage subsides. He is himself again, he thinks, for obviously this was who he was and not that beast that had just reared its head.

Yes. Himself.

He walks over to the corner of the room, deftly picking up the nearly stolen artifact. Rage begins to unfurl within him once more, but he must keep it at bay. This problem had been taken care of, disaster avoided. Cabariel would not be pleased to know that he was short a duke, but that was the least of Satan’s worries -- after all, Cabariel should be glad that it wasn’t his throat Satan came for next.

Another look around the room, and a tired sigh leaves the Avatar’s lips. He had purposely lured Thalbus away from the Royal Archives, but still ...

… Barbatos was not going to be pleased.

[broiderie]

Lost Princessa 2

Ok... part 2. Here it is. Remember to be gentle. 

Please do not translate, repost, or steal any of my work. My mind is deranged enough without anyone else’s help. Thanks again to @drabbles-mc for letting me bounce ideas off you and helping with plot points.

Taza x Daughter!OC

Warnings: none (Let me know if I missed anything)

Megan meets the rest of the family....

Taza re-entered the conference room smiling and made his way over to sit next to Megan. “So, what’s your plan now that you’ve found me? I know what I would prefer, but I also don’t want to jump to conclusions.”

Megan sighed and pulled her long braid over her shoulder with a rueful smile. “Honestly... I’m not sure. I don’t honestly think that I got this far by planning anything.” She busied her nervous fingers by fidgeting with the end of her braid. “What would you like me to do? I understand that you may not want me around. I can disappear if that’s what your need. I honestly don’t know why I thought you’d want to know about me...”

Taza stopped her nervous rambling by covering both of her hands with one of his. “Megan, honey, breathe.” He waited for her to take another visible deep breath. “I’m glad that you’re here. I’m glad that you found me. I want to get to know my daughter.”

She smiled shyly up at him and blinked rapidly to clear her lashes of tears.

“Now. I have a ranch outside of Santo Padre. I’d really like it if you came home with me. It’s a bachelor pad, but we can make changes... we’ll do whatever you need.”

“Really? You... you want me around?”

“Yes, Chica. I want you around. My brothers too. You have a ton of men currently waiting to meet you down in the casino restaurant. We’ll get some food and then we can go get your stuff from where ever you’re staying and head out.”

She smiled brilliantly at him when he answered her, but her face fell when he mentioned getting her things. She cleared her throat, “There’s nothing to get.” She held up her battered backpack. “I’ve got everything here. And... um... I don’t have gas money or anything to contribute to the trip back. I used the last of it to get here this morning.”

Taza frowned at the small pack. It obviously didn’t hold much. Maybe a change of clothes or two, but not much else. Certainly not enough to get her across country like she had been. “Don’t worry about the money, Chica. It’s covered. We’ll have to stop and get you a helmet and jacket too. You can’t ride like that.”

She shook her head. “I can’t let you do that. That’s a lot of money to be spending it on me.”

“Mija- you’ll have to have a helmet. It’s the law and club rules. And you need a jacket to protect you too. I’m good, but everyone lays down sometimes and things happen on the road. I promise you this- it's not negotiable.” He squeezed her fingers gently. “Let’s go get some food. You’ll feel better.”

Taza stood and offered to carry her backpack, again noticing the lack of weight to it. Then he led her out of the room to meet his brothers. Her new family.

At the door to the restaurant, he paused and turned to face her head on. He nudged her chin up to make her look him in the face. “Listen, Chica, the men you are about to meet have been my family for a long time. They’re going to be your family too in time. They look rough, but don’t let them scare you. Any one of them would do anything to protect family and that includes you now.”

She smiled shyly and nodded. “I can hold my own, I think. I’m used to some pretty rough guys.”

“Thatta girl.” He checked his phone to find a text from Bishop to let him know that they’d commandeered the smallest dining room for an impromptu family dinner. “Let’s go eat.”

He led the way keeping a careful eye on his daughter. His mind buzzing. He had so many things that he wanted to know about her. He worried about how she would mesh with his brothers. She’d seemed so nervous and shy. He didn’t want the more intimidating ones to frighten here. He’d have to speak with them at Templo and ask them to be gentle as she adjusted to life with the club. He’d also warn the young bucks to keep their hands to themselves.  

He opened the door and laughed as all heads whipped around to see them and silence fell. He guided Megan inside and shut the door putting her backpack down with their gear. Bishop must have filled the club in on what was going on. They were way too curious about this new face.  

Bishop stood up smiling. “All sorted?” At Megan’s nervous nod he motioned to Taza to bring her around to a seat at the table next to him. There was an empty seat on the other side of her apparent chair for Taza.  

Taza guided her quickly to sit. He stood behind her chair for a moment and squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. “So... this is Megan. She’s my daughter. Don’t you all swarm her at once. Give her a chance to breathe. She’s coming back with us so we can get to know each other. Mija, you already met Bishop and Hank. I’ll let you meet the rest of the guys at your own pace.”

At her tiny awkward wave, they all cheered and went back to eating and laughing. Taza seated himself next to her and Bishop resumed his seat on her other side. Across from her was a man that she didn’t know and Hank was across from Taza. The man she didn’t know had dark hair slicked back and was wearing a kutte just like all the others, but she could tell that he was different.  

Megan smiled and offered her hand across the table. “Hi, I’m Megan.”

Alvarez smiled and shook her hand gently. “Marcus Alvarez. I’m a very old friend of your dad’s and a cousin of Bishop’s.”

Megan smiled sweetly. “Are you from Santo Padre too? Forgive me... I’m not sure how all of this works.”

Marcus laughed and took a sip of beer. “You’ll get there sooner than you think, but to answer your question- No, I don’t live in Santo Padre. I ride out of Oakland.” He tapped his charter flash. “Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”

Dinner continued with Megan slowly being introduced to everyone as they came by for Taza to introduce them. She tried to keep the names straight, but her mind was so tired that she knew that she’d screw it up if asked.  

Taza kept a gentle conversation going with Megan throughout the meal. Nothing heavy. Just little things. He asked if there was anyone she wanted to contact to let them know that she was safe and she shook her head. “There’s nothing and no one left in Tennessee for me. I left my job bar tending the day before I started this way. Hoping for a fresh start.”

Taza nodded. “We can do that, Mija. Fresh start it is.”

When Taza drifted to go talk to Bishop and El Padrino, Hank noticed that Megan drank only water and hadn’t taken much in the way of food. Really only what Taza encouraged her to take some of. He leaned over the table to speak quietly to her. “You okay, Princessa? Need me to order you something else?”

She shook her head quickly and quietly murmured “I don’t have the money for this...”

Hank smiled sweetly and reached to pat her hands that were twisting a napkin on the table. “Oh! Don’t worry about that. Family dinner falls on the club’s dime.” He saw her visibly relax. “You haven’t had an easy trip, have you Princessa?”

She grinned a little as he gentled her along and started to hand her bowls to get food on her plate. “I think I currently have about five dollars in my pocket. I’m going to have to find a job quickly in Santo Padre so that I can pay Taza back for all the things that he says that I need.”

Hank shook his head firmly. “No. We’ll get you kitted out proper. Don’t you worry about that. We’re going to take care of you now. It’s what family does.”

Taza had gotten up and had his head together with Bishop and Alvarez while keeping Megan in his sight at all times. “Bish... I know we’d usually drive straight through to get home, but Megan can’t do that. She doesn’t even have a jacket, let alone the gear for that kind of ride. Plus she’s exhausted. I don’t know when the last time she slept was, but I’d bet that it wasn’t enough...”

Bishop nodded. “Yeah. I noticed that. Where do we need to go to pick up the rest of her gear?”

Taza sighed. “We don’t. All she’s got is that backpack and it’s not even half full. I haven’t gotten a straight answer as to where she’s been staying. To be honest, I’m not sure that I want to know. I get the feeling that I won’t like her answer.”

Bishop sipped his beer and kept his eye on el pacifidore as he seemed to gently urge their newest family member into eating something. “Hmmm. You’re right. She looks exhausted. It wouldn’t be a good ride for her even if she had gear. Not tonight anyway. But there’s also no sense in keeping the entire club here overnight.”

Marcus smiled. “I agree. Why not keep a small group here and the rest roll out? The smaller group can follow in the morning so no one rides alone. I’d say put her in the van but that’s not an option with the weapons currently in there. She’s family, but let’s not scare her just yet.” He stretched his back. “I’ll admit, I was dreading the night ride myself, so I’m willing to roll out with the smaller group tomorrow.”

Taza laughed. “We aren’t as young as we used to be.” He finished his beer and grimaced. “I have to take her home to the ranch in the shape I left it. I’ve been at the clubhouse so much with this Galindo shit that it’s barely habitable for ME.”

Bishop patted his brother’s shoulder. “It’s settled. You’ll stay here with El Padrino and... two others?” He looked at Marcus questioningly.

“Yeah. Two would be good.”

“So let’s say... Hank and... who else?” Bishop gestured to the rest of the table. “Hank’s good with her already.”

Taza observed the rest of the club for the moment, trying to see them from an outsider’s point of view. He didn’t want anyone too intimidating. “Can’t be Creep. Road Captain goes with the larger group so he can drive the van...”

Marcus laughed. “Can’t be the prospect either. He’s gonna go clean Taza’s house before we get there.”

Taza’s face lit up at that idea. “Yes! I want him to move my shit while he’s there. Put her in the master. Girl deserves her own bathroom.”

Bishop laughed and stroked his beard thoughtfully. “What about Coco? Hank’s supposed to be keeping an eye on him anyway.”

Both Marcus and Taza nodded. “That’s set then. Everyone else head out after dinner. The new princessa’s escort will be Taza, Hank, Coco and myself. We’ll head out tomorrow morning after a shopping spree. We’ll keep you in the loop, but we gotta take it easy on her. We may be late.” Marcus patted the table and stood. “I’ll go arrange accommodations with the tribe.”

[thewitcherssongbird]

Your Curse is my Command

Ready for idiots in love?

****

Chapter 2

“Look at me,” Geralt ordered. Jaskier wasn’t going to look at him, of course he wasn’t when suddenly his head lifted completely against his will.

“Geralt, something strange is going on, this isn’t normal. Look, I’m serious, ever since we walked out of that house something… I don’t know. Look it feels funny. I don’t feel like myself, I just-“

Geralt raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“No! Stop it with that face! I’m being serious!”

“Oh shut up!” Geralt said and suddenly Jaskier’s mouth snapped shut.

“Oh wow, that was fast,” he commented. Jaskier smacked his chest. He grunted in pain. Jaskier gestured wildly to his shut mouth, waving his arms around in panic.

“What, Jaskier?” the bastard sounded impatient.

Jaskier tried to groan but no sound escaped, only a comical display of body language was left.

Why was this man so dense?

***

“I never thought I’d say this but just talk, Jaskier.”

The bard seemed to regain his linguistic abilities and screamed, “Something is wrong!”

Geralt frowned.

“Uhh.” Jaskier fiddled with his fingers and bit his lip, looking like he was searching for something to say. “Ah, tell me to do something.”

Geralt frowned some more. Jaskier looked at him expectantly.

“Uhhh, raise your hand?” Jaskier’s hand shot up.

“What the hell! Look!” he shouted, staring at his raised arm in terror. “I can’t control anything! What the fuck?!”

The man looked terrified. He began shaking, Geralt’s eyes widened as he saw him starting to tremble. “Good gods, put your hand down. Relax!” he said. Jaskier instantly relaxed above him.

“Don’t tell me to relax! Don’t tell me to do anything! I don’t like this,” he moaned.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t…” He searched for words. “-Not do what you tell me. I can’t control it. At all. Please do something!”

“I’m sorry, just ah, do what you want.”

“No no no no no,” Jaskier protested even as he moved closer. “Try, do as you see fit? That worked. Or something? Anything else!”

“Do as you see fit!” Geralt said quickly, Jaskier moved away instantly and sighed in relief. How odd.

They stared at each other, which was a more frequent experience than one would expect in their daily lives. Jaskier made a ‘well?’ gesture. Well? Well Geralt didn’t know, how was he supposed to know?

“How should I know? Spells and curses aren’t exactly my area of expertise.”

“Well, what do we do then?”

“I don’t know, what if I order you to not to do anything I say?”

“Won’t that just have the opposite effect? That won’t help. What if we break some law or something, what if we get stuck like that and then whenever you tell me to do something you’ll have to tell me what not to do.”

“Yes, alright just-“

Jaskier cut him off with a finger to his lips. “Don’t you dare.”

Geralt sighed. “We have to go see Yennefer,” he said.

Jaskier groaned. “Yennefer? Why do we always have to go to her? She doesn’t like me,” he complained. Geralt chuckled. “What is it with you and Yennefer?”

Geralt shrugged, “She’s the smartest person I know. She’s a sorceress, she’ll know what to do.”

“She’ll know what to do,” he mocked. “Where is Yennefer anyway,” Jaskier asked, trying to sound casual but Geralt could hear the venom in the way he said her name.

“Close,” is all he said.

Jaskier scoffed. “Well anyway I’m not disinfecting this anymore, I can’t stomach it. I’m sorry but I can’t”

“It’s fine just clean it with water.”

“Geralt don’t order me to do things!” He moaned as he angrily picked up the cloth with the water that was still lying next to him. It was already red with blood.

“Sorry, do as you will.”

Oh, this was a recipe for disaster.

“Promise me you won’t abuse this… curse,” Jaskier demanded as he bandaged the cut.

“Fine,” Geralt sighed, “but I can’t promise not to have some fun.”

Jaskier gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

***

When Yennefer opened the door of her latest manor to see Geralt and his pet bard standing on the doorway with expressions of lost puppies on their faces, she rolled her eyes so hard she was surprised she didn’t see what the hell she was thinking when she let them in.

She led them to an artfully decorated sitting room and motioned for them to sit before bringing them all a pint of ale because heavens knew she would need it. And some biscuits, because self-love was important.

“So,” she started crossing a leg, “what did you do?”

She wholeheartedly expected Geralt to deny that they had come for her help but Jaskier didn’t give him a chance. He didn’t even bother to pretend they were here for tea and biscuits and started rambling immediately. It was a refreshing change from Geralt’s stubbornly short sentences.

“So the other day we were in this city and there was a sorceress there, we didn’t catch her name-“

“Maryan Helsing,” Geralt filled in.

“Maryan Helsing?!” Yennefer nearly spit out her drink, her eyes went wide. “She’s the craziest sorceress on the continent!”

“Thank you Geralt. Anyway-“ Jaskier put a hand on his knee in thanks. Yennefer raised her brows in anticipation for him to sweep it off, smack it away or even just move his knee away but he never did and the hand stayed even though Geralt looked very uncomfortable. Now that was interesting.

“-She’d apparently just appeared in the city all of a sudden, and put the lord under a spell like you did with Geralt once-” Yennefer narrowed her eyes at the mention and Jaskier immediately steered away from the subject. “– for no reason and the lord was obviously out of his mind and doing the gods know what and then a lord’s wife who had been visiting family, and let me tell you she was a useless piece of gossip, came and cried to Geralt about it, and now imagine everyone has been talking about the famous Witcher and how he hunts monsters for years now and still they’re asking Geralt to kill people. How stupid can you be.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes dramatically. It was cute how defensive the feral little bard got. For a bard, he really was quite bad at recounting their misadventures. Yennefer only looked into the drink she’d been swirling and took another sip.

“Now the wife tells him to kill the witch because she has their son, their son! And she said it so casually! Now anyway I wasn’t there at the time so of course Geralt decided to get involved. Again.”

That was a familiar line. Geralt looked offended but didn’t get a chance to say anything.

“And then nearly got himself killed trying to reason with the woman who was very clearly absolutely deranged! Maniacal laughter and death threats included, according to Geralt. And then she poured some salt on the ground and started chanting. And the salt crept around him and made a circle, all the while the boy was sitting behind a table and crying his lungs out, he was traumatized! And the circle sealed and suddenly there was a hurricane in the room.”

Honestly how had he gotten all that out of a man who talked as much as a brick. Oooooh wait a minute, she knew where this was heading. These absolute idiots, how were they both still alive?

“And then she stopped and started doing I don’t know what so Geralt kind of, ahh,” he gestured vaguely.

“You killed her?” Yennefer demanded. “Before she could finish the spell?”

“Well she looked finished,” Geralt grumbled. Yennefer groaned.

“And then I rushed into the room because I heard Geralt was out getting himself killed. And then I don’t know what happened but watch this.” He gestured for Geralt to say something.

The Witcher sighed but spoke, “Stand up.” Jaskier stood up immediately. Now that was unfair, Geralt had never done what she told him to and neither had the bard.

“Take off your shirt,” Geralt said casually. Jaskier started untucking his shirt even as he protested.

“What? Wait, Geralt no! You said you wouldn’t take advantage of this! Make it stop!”

Geralt chuckled in amusement but relented, “Alright stop.” Jaskier immediately ceased any action and stopped comically midair, shirt still half off.

“Right, sorry. Do what you want.” Jaskier started took a step toward Geralt.

“Uh Geralt,” his voice rose higher in panic. “Not that one.”

“Do as you will!”

Yennefer frowned, how curious. What had Jaskier wanted to do? Jaskier relaxed and turned to her. “Well this is the problem and I don’t know what we did.”

Geralt was still smiling. She’d never seen Geralt smile as much as he did in the past few minutes. A smile looked nice on him. And how on earth did Jaskier get all that out of the man? Talking to him was like talking to a wall.

Oh. Oh of course! It hit her then. He was in love! The Witcher was in love. They both were! Gods they were idiots. It had only taken her minutes to figure it out. Minutes. They were in love!

She sighed. “I’ll tell you what you did.”

Jaskier sat down next to Geralt, so close that Geralt tensed, but he didn’t move or shove the bard away. And they didn’t know. Yennefer took a biscuit from the tray.

“You,” she pointed at Jaskier with the biscuit, “stepped into the circle, like an idiot. You should know not to step into funny looking circles. And you,” she gestured to Geralt, “said his name.” She took a bite of the accusatory biscuit. “And now you have to do what he says because you finished the spell.”

“For how long?” Jaskier asked.

“Indefinitely,” Yennefer lied. She’d fix it when she was done playing.

“Indefinitely?” Geralt demanded. “What do you mean indefinitely?”

“It means you’ll have to wait it out,” Yennefer said sarcastically and got up. “Well you’re welcome to stay here a while if you like. I’d rather recommend it, what with the unpredictability of her magic. And the weather is about to take a turn for the worse over the next few weeks.”

Well the weather was going to be horrid, that much was true but Geralt and Jaskier were still gaping like fish. Oh matchmaking was fun.

“Unfortunately I only have one guestroom,” she lied further. “You’ll have to share the bed but you always do, so I hope you don’t mind. Come on, I’ll give you a tour.”

Jaskier paled and Geralt’s eyes widened at the word ‘share’. She had to repeat the offer for the tour. They were adorable.

***

Jaskier barely retained any information during the tour except the location of the guestroom and the bathroom next to it. “You’ll have to share the bed” ran like a mantra through his head.

After supper, Geralt procured Yennefer’s help to make his potions and Jaskier decided to take his chance at privacy and have a hot bath and then retreat to their room.

He stared at the bed, it was large and fluffy and all too inviting. It looked like a cloud and with further experimentation, he discovered it felt like one too. This was going to be awkward. They hadn’t shared a bed in months, and worst of all not since Jaskier had discovered he had feelings for Geralt.

He got dressed for bed quickly and climbed under the sheets. The bed seemed to hug him and the pillows were a piece of heaven itself. But all this felt like a secondary experience to Jaskier, all his mind wanted to think about was Geralt, Geralt, Geralt, Geralt is going to sleep in this bed.

He couldn’t escape it. Eventually he shut his eyes and hoped Geralt would only come to bed after he’d fallen asleep and wake up after Jaskier did, if only to save them both the awkwardness that was waking up in the same bed. Possibly entangled. He had a long history of cuddling in his sleep and it wasn’t going to benefit him now.

No, Geralt wouldn’t appreciate that. At all. But he wasn’t exactly going to sleep on the floor or the couch in the sitting room so with a sigh and a prayer he climbed into bed and hoped for the best.

***

Geralt opened the door of the guestroom he’d been shown to earlier to see Jaskier sprawled out over the sheets. He slept on his stomach, hugging a pillow and most notably, shirtless.

One look at his sleeping form, smooth, freshly cleaned skin hiding the barest hint of muscle gained from their adventuring, one look of how his spine made a perfect curve, and his already sleep mussed hair, of his face was pressed into the pillow, eyelashes making long shadows over his cheeks, one look of Jaskier and Geralt promptly closed the door as quickly as he had opened it.

He leaned back against the door and slid down slowly and frankly pathetically until he was sitting on the floor, head in his hands and thinking:

Oh fuck.

***

Well, the gods evidently had a personal vendetta against him, and had decided to completely ignore his prayers. Jokes on them, he didn’t believe they were worth being prayed to anyway.

When he woke up, Geralt was nowhere to be found.

Awful things immediately started running through his head. Had the Witcher woken with him on top of him, using him as a pillow? Or had he woken with entangles limbs and a bard in his arms. He seriously debated just staying in the bed but decided it would accomplish nothing and got dressed and headed downstairs to find his possibly last breakfast.

But there Geralt was, solemn as ever and looking no more inclined to murder than usual. Jaskier even poked him on his very muscled arm, to which he only got a what-the-fuck-do-you-want stare, a specialty.

Had he ever been in the bed? If so, how had Jaskier not noticed? He wasn’t a heavy sleeper, he usually woke up when Jaskier came back to a rented tavern room in the middle of the night, covered I blood and gore. He would have noticed, right? Had he not slept at all? He should be able to see that, dark circles or something. Maybe he had meditated. Well in any case, Jaskier was still alive and as far as he could tell, Geralt wasn’t even mad at him.

So he shut his mouth and went on with his day.

*****

Next chapter up soon! Probably tomorrow, thanks to quarantine I have a lot of time on my hands. Please leave likes and comments for me <3

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Silver In The Sea (Julian Devorak! Pirate x Mermaid! Reader) 3

Summary: A year into his travels at sea, Julian Devorak is faced with the highs and lows of sailing across the southern sea; facing the dangers that come with it. As a physician, he is given many opportunities to live out the days in surviving for himself - especially against many things that want him dead.

Notes: Now that he knows mermaids do exist, Ilya goes out of his way to try and befriend his new fishy companion.

SUPPORT ME ON A03, MY USERNAME THE SAME AS HERE!!

Prologue -  1  -  2  -  4 

Silver In The Sea Chapter 3 (Bargaining)

The sun rose beyond the horizon of the azure sky and seafoam sea, drifting it caught in Julian's eyes with a groan of frustration when he was awoken by the rising heat. Five minutes, please. I don't want to face another day in the dying heat. 

His skin was prickling and burning from the heat, and he had applied mud until it dried, wearing it as if he was wearing new skin. It didn't help that much when he had to apply it every five seconds; layer after layer.

My skin will blister and I will look like one soon. Julian groaned, throwing a hand over his eyes as he screwed them shut. Oh, Pasha, when will the torment end?  

A plop came from not too far to where he resided, the sound that made him lift his head briefly, but keened when his head begun to hurt. I shall need some water soon, and by then, I'll know I will be truly insane.

He wanted to imagine what his younger sister would think of him when he returned back to the mainland, where he would be surrounded by humans once more; a savage they'll call me, and one I will welcome. 

He wanted to imagine being back home, in his bed and safe and sound with his family, not left in the wasteland on an island away from all. 

Perhaps I have been dreaming all along and I've been drifting in the sea since the beginning? That would explain why I have been imagining a mermaid here.

There was a shifting of sand that came coming up the sandbanks, closer and closer, Julian could hear how whatever it struggled with a lack of being able to pull themselves up higher from the water. 

Anyone else would look up and try and understand what was going on, but Julian had found that there was nothing that would gain his attention.

When did the sun go in? Heh, have my prayers been answered? Julian wanted to praise whoever was there to help the sun cool down, but when he felt a large shadow drift over him, he wanted to assume that there would be a storm brewing.

It was only until he felt a heavy drop land on the side of his face that he finally ripped his eyes open upon the sight. When did this island hold pretty maidens?

The mermaid he had witnessed yesterday was not only here and existing, but hovering right above him, those piercing eyes staring directly into his own being with such a euphoric power but Julian didn't believe he would ever understand. 

There is a beauty in this world that holds such danger, and I'm dancing with a creature that not many would say would exist.

There was a feeling pressed against his chest, and when Julian looked down, the mermaid had their webbed, clawed hands pressed up against and resting on him, their flesh flush to his that if he concentrated hard enough, he could pinpoint the feeling of her chest pressed against his-

He dismissed the thought before the blood poured to his head and made him red like a balloon; certain that such thoughts should be too provocative. I am a doctor, and my imagination at sea has been left unattended.

"You know, if you're going to sit there and watch, you could at least say something." Julian hummed, mumbling to himself like a deranged man. The mermaid gave a tilt of her head, one such image of a dog he found in Vesuvia, from the times he had fed the stray. The view alone made Julian's heart soar from the cuteness. Still, the mermaid gawked, giving no indication she was listening nor comprehended what was said to her.

"Like maybe... tell me what your name is, or, how many others are there of you? Or, whether I'll get off this island alive or just bones in the sand." His voice grew hoarse at the end of his ramble, quickly trailing off as he looked away. He sighed in discontent: if I am to befriend a mermaid, they could at least give me one who wanted to talk back, or even want to be my friend.

There was shifting once more in the sand beside him, and when Julian looked up, he witnessed the mermaid drag themselves back towards the water, like they were a sack of heavy sugar and they were trying to drag the weight back. The sight alone was rather comical. 

"Hey, where are you going?" Julian called, but yet, the mermaid did not answer nor look back on him, leaving him to himself as she disappeared once more when she was fully submerged in water, and he waited once more for a couple of minutes, then hours, until he grew bored of waiting and assuming she wouldn't return.

He wandered from his spot around the small forest area of the island, looking for more twigs for the fire and rock and stone he would use for a weapon of some sort to crack stuff like coconuts open. He was rather disappointed to find no coconuts on the island.

When he returned, the sun was still high, but the day was coming to an end, and the hunger building in Julian was rumbling in his stomach. He knew he would have to cook once more, but hunting and fishing like last time didn't go so well. When he returned to his spot, the sand still had curvatures in a movement of something crawling and twisting with effort, dampness in a spot when he sat down.

When he looked to his poorly set-up fire, was when he thought he was truly hallucinating. There, sat perfectly on a large smooth stone, were two degutted silverfish, waiting as if on a platter for him to eat.

Where the gods truly playing a cruel joke on him? Were he to eat it and the touch would become to sand rather than what he had not been expecting? Another plop came from behind him, and when he looked back, into the rocky waters, there, sat on the rocks awaiting him was his new fishy friend.

"Did you get these for me?" He stood from his spot, walking towards her until he stood just a good distance that wasn't to scare her off. She was soaked to the bone but unbothered by it, her long hair keeping her modesty, as he silver tail flickered in and out of the water below; like when Pepi had been played with and was ready to strike. 

"I-- thank you, this was not what I was expecting." Julian gave a grin, expecting her to not even bother giving him a look that told him she understood, but instead, she looked to him, and with a broad grin, opened her mouth, and music fell from her lips.

"You're welcome."

[lvmosity]

saviour | harry potter

pairing: harry potter x muggleborn!hufflepuff!reader

requested: yes! by @scoofpoof​ thank u ♡

request: can i request for a harry potter x muggleborn! hufflepuff! reader? reader doesnt know harry potter (gasp) but he does bc they grew up in the same place and he lowkey has a crush on her. reader still doesnt know harry potter in school n is one of the top students. harry knows that she is physically strong bc she plays muggle sports n knows self defense. shes kind but not a coward so one time harry asks for help when he is being bullied n she agrees... reluctantly. u can choose the ending. thanks!

genre: fluff maybe?

word count: 3.4k (ok i didnt expect this to be long)

warnings: bullying, mentions of blood & scars, reader is a badass

tags: @sadhwstudent​ 

credit to the owner of the gif

It had only been less than two months since the news of Lord Voldemort’s supposed return from the dead had spread throughout the Wizarding World and all Harry Potter could do was watch in frustration as people branded him as a liar and deranged. He had to thank the Ministry of Magic, primarily Minister Fudge who took full control of this and covered up what he thinks to be complete utter nonsense. It wasn’t a surprise to him really as the Ministry of Magic were, after all, corrupt and incompetent.

Whilst Harry lied in bed feeling extremely alone and lost during those months, he did not get a single letter from his two best friends; Ron and Hermione, despite their promises. He was starting to wonder if they too had turned blind and decided their friendship wasn’t worth it but after finally meeting up one day for an explanation, he realised it was done so under Dumbledore’s orders which made the situation worse.

Then the events that followed after made it harder to cope with. He had discovered an old alliance formed by Dumbledore during the First Wizarding World and that half of them had either died or were seriously harmed. His godfather Sirius Black had informed him that the Dark Lord was in search of a special object that he had no access to during his previous attack, along with the mysterious actions of his headteacher who has ignored him throughout the summer. The pressure was starting to be a heavy toll on him, and he was forced to deal with it.

Unfortunately, it also became a difficulty attending school. His classmates had started eyeing him weirdly, growing awfully distant with him to which they would immediately stop talking once Harry entered the room, and some of his other so-called-friends had removed him from their lives. It also couldn’t help that certain students, none other than Draco Malfoy and his goons, had begun to bully him more than ever, hitting him with nastier remarks as well as the constant push and shove tactics.

Harry felt isolated and disorientated, felt as if no one had truly believed the words that came out of his mouth, felt as if he was made a laughing stock to the Wizarding World, felt as if Voldemort had already won the battle and it had barely even started. Ron and Hermione tried their best to cheer him up and distract him from reality but it would end in failure each time.

He was starting to lose hope, starting to think he was better off buried twenty-feet deep under the dirt since he knew his parents were the only ones who wouldn’t judge him, starting to accept the many labels plastered on him; he was a liar. 

He just had spent a strenuous hour-long detention session with Professor Umbridge in the afternoon due to his apparent cheek talking as well as spitting ‘false’ information about the Dark Lord’s return. Feeling emotionally drained, Harry found himself making a bee-line to the school’s library to have a moment to himself, he wasn’t prepared to face his friends and hear their worries.

Night had already fallen meaning everyone would be asleep by now, the hallways had also gotten dark. Luckily enough, the candles were the only light source as it made it slightly easier for Harry to find his way through the darkness. However, he wasn’t able to see anything further down the hall and he worried that a prefect or a professor on duty might catch him and drag him back to the dorms. Although, he’d rather bump into them than Filch.

And soon enough, once he had turned a corner and heard hurried footsteps approaching up ahead in the darkness, he started to panic. It was only a matter of time before he suddenly collided into something hard and he desperately hoped it wasn’t any of the two. Waiting to hear a grumpy voice scold him, he hears a high-pitched squeal instead.

The unknown figure in front quickly whispers a ‘lumos’ before being blinded by a bright light. Harry hisses at the sudden flash and squints his eyes to see past it expecting to see Filch or a professor. To his surprise, he realised it was just a girl but it wasn’t just any ordinary girl, it was you.

You look at Harry with a bewildered look to which he returns. Opening your mouth to question his presence, your head quickly whips back and a small gasp escapes from your lips. Both of you hear another set of footsteps approaching from behind and you instantly grab Harry’s hand and rush off to find a room or a spot to hide in.

After locating a random closet room, you hastily pull Harry inside with you and shut the door from behind. Harry leans against the wall and starts to pant but you hush at him indicating to keep quiet. You whisper a ‘Filch’ to him and he nods in realisation but mentally facepalms seconds later because you couldn’t see it anyways since the room was completely dark.

Several minutes pass by and no sign of footsteps or a grouchy voice could be heard meaning the coast was clear. Relieved, you flick your wand and a light illuminates from the tip of it, now the room was bright enough to see.

You turn to Harry and smile at him sheepishly, feeling embarrassed for grabbing a stranger’s hand. “Sorry about dragging you here, I had to make sure the both of us didn’t get caught, you know how Filch is.”

Harry shakes his head rapidly, “It’s fine, I appreciate you looking out for me though.”

“No worries...” Your words falter at the end waiting for him to introduce himself as you had no knowledge of the boy standing in front of you.

“Harry, Harry Potter.”

“Ah, well,” The sides of your eyes crinkled as you give him a friendly smile. “You’re welcome Harry, Harry Potter.”

You burst into fits of giggles, finding your small joke amusing. A faint blush creeps onto his face and Harry’s head shifts to the side in an attempt to hide it as he found you it adorable. Fortunately for him, you didn’t notice it but you noticed something instead and it wasn’t fortunate for him.

“Harry! Your hand’s bleeding!” You gasp as you reach out to his hand, lifting it up to your face to inspect it.

Harry winces at the sight of the blood, his scab had cut open supposedly from the harsh grip you had on him whilst you were running away before. It was only a minor cut and it didn’t really bother Harry whilst you reacted differently by shrieking as if he had lost a hand.

“What happened to your hand? Why do you have a scab?” You eye it closely, “It looks recent too.”

Harry scratches the back of his head with his other hand and stays silent, unsure on how to explain it to you that Professor Umbridge is a vile, old bat that enchanted a special quill to cut into his skin when he uses it. He also didn’t want you to worry too much and snitch on her to Dumbledore in case you would get in trouble.

Slightly frowning at his choice to ignore your question, you gently push him back to sit on a random obstacle as you rustle inside your school robes only to pull out a tiny first-aid box and kneel in front of Harry. You pick up a wound spray out of it and spritz it on his cut causing Harry to hiss at the slight pain.

Mumbling a quiet ‘sorry’ to him, you continue to dab the blood away, taking extra care not to deepen it. Once you saw that the cut was cleaned up, you pick up a plaster and place it on his cut, softly smoothing it out so that it sticks on properly.

Harry watches you intently as you smile to yourself feeling proud at your work, even if it simply was just tending to your aid. Harry lifts his hands up and stares at the plaster, it was girly for his liking as it was coloured a pastel purple and had a daisy pattern. He found it cute.

"It’s my friends,” Harry looks back at you. “Mine recently ran out so my friend lent me a few since I’m always getting into fights.” You bite your lip and look at Harry, waiting for a shocked reaction from him, he probably doesn’t expect you to be a troublesome girl.

“B-but for a good reason! I only fight the bad guys, y’know the bullies and all.” You stutter, trying to defend yourself. You began to bring up past events of you arguing with a Slytherin called Pansy and how it ended badly, showing him old bruises on your arm that were close to fading away. You then bring up another fight including a boy from your house and rambled on about how he blamed you for messing up a potion to which you secretly made it blow up in his face out of annoyance.

As you continue to rant, you didn’t notice Harry’s gaze on you. He knew all about you and how you are as a person, he knew this because he’s observed you for years. Harry figured that you didn’t know him too well as you saw him as a stranger but to him, you weren’t.

The two of you grew up in the same neighbourhood, practically living across from each other but a few houses down. Both of you also attended the same school and shared most classes together, yet throughout the years you didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence until now. 

This wasn’t a surprise to Harry as he was a quiet child and didn’t get on with the others in his year. He stayed reserved, spending most of his time in school sitting inside class with his teacher during break and lunchtime watching other children have fun. The teacher wouldn’t pay much attention to Harry but it didn’t bother him as he was much interested in watching you play on the field outside.

He was captivated by you. You were different from most girls in his year; you loved playing muggle sports as you would constantly single-handedly beat the boys at football. Gradually, he developed a crush on you. He would consistently hear stories from his classmates of how you would beat up bullies and stand up to anyone making fun of your friends, or rather anyone. You were strong for your age, in fact, you were always strong. 

Growing up, the stories would get crazier and Harry got a chance to witness it come alive. During one chilly December night, he stumbled upon the scene of you being harassed by two men. Irritated by their actions, Harry was about to call them out but in a blink of an eye; you quickly grab one of their arms and twist it, launching him over your shoulder and slammed him down on the ground. 

The other man shrieked in horror and ran away, bumping into Harry’s shoulder in the process. Satisfied, you calmly walk away from the groaning man and left a speechless Harry. From that moment onwards, his admiration for you tripled.

Not only were you strong, but you were also freakishly intelligent. Scoring ‘Outstanding’ grades in most of your classes to which you were one of the top students in Hogwarts, always positioning a place higher than Hermione (she hated that). 

Harry was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts as he sees you with your head tilted to the side, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, I asked if you were alright. Something wrong?”

“Oh, er, n-no. I was just thinking about something.”

“Ah,” You place your chin in both the palm of your hands, looking up at Harry. “Say, you haven’t told me how you got that scab. What happened?”

Harry sighed. “Umbridge.”

You roll your eyes, “Of course, I’m not surprised.” You stand up and sit beside Harry who scooches a bit to the side to make space. Although, due to how small the obstacle you guys were sat on, your hands were lightly brushing up against each other and Harry tried his best to keep calm and fight the uncontrollable blush.

“I don’t know why I’ve only just realised this but you were the guy that was with Cedric the night he died, right?” Harry turns his head to you, startled at the sudden change of topic. “And you’re the one who keeps saying that the Dark Lord has returned.”

No answer. Harry stays silent, he had a feeling that you were also going to make fun of him, call him a liar and walk off; forever ignoring his existence. But instead, he hears a soft giggle.

“Don’t worry, I believe you.”

Harry shoots you a confused look, “What, really?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just... mostly everyone doesn’t, and they bully me for it.”

You frown at the new information before your face relaxes. “I’m so sorry that’s been happening to you Harry...” Harry shrugs and you couldn’t help but start to feel bad. “I wish it was different. If there was a way for me to help, I would--”

Harry’s head perks up; “Then help me.”

“What? Harry, I barely know you.”

“But I know you.”

“You don’t even know my name--”

“Y/N, your name is Y/N Y/LN.”

“Okay, now that’s weird.”

Harry shakes his head, “It’s a long story but we grew up in the same neighbourhood and attended the same primary school.”

“Oh,” That made sense. You were beginning to think you had a stalker. “How come I’ve only just met you today?” 

“Must be a magic spell I put on myself to be invisible.”

You playfully nudge him. “Oh shut up, a kid that young wouldn’t have been able to learn the spell for it yet.”

You both laugh and for a moment, Harry’s troubles had disappeared and he was enjoying the company, your company. As the laughter fades away, Harry turns back to staring at you and you question him, “What?”

“So, will you help me? With the bullying?” 

You bite your lip and ponder for a few minutes. An hour ago, he was just a stranger to you (and whoa, has it already been an hour?) yet it felt like you guys had already met before, like fate had brought him to you and perhaps offered you both to initiate a friendship or more. Wait, what were you thinking? You’ve only just met the guy!

Your eyes meet up with his once more and he gazes at you softly, waiting for an answer. You couldn’t help but feel even more bad for Harry. What were you going to say?

“Okay.”

●●●

The next morning had arrived and like always, Harry had to deal with the usual weird looks and whispers from the students that passed by him in the halls. Ron and Hermione would instantly glare at them to which they’d shut up and walk off but they knew they’d start whispering again once they turned their backs away.

Frustrated at her best friend’s ignorance, Hermione pulls Harry’s arm back causing the three of them to stop in their tracks. “Harry, aren’t you going to say or do something about this? You can’t just ignore them!”

Harry whips his arm out of her grasp causing Hermione to frown. “It’s nothing to worry about, I’ll be alright.”

“Alright?! How could you possibly feel alright when everyone is going around making a mockery of you--”

“Well, well, if it isn’t Potter.” The three of them turn to see Draco and his two other delinquent friends walk up to them, a smug look plastered across Draco’s face. “Finding it difficult these days, aren’t we?”

Ron scoffs, “Screw off Malfoy.” He nudges Harry and a mumbles a ‘let’s just go Harry.’ as him and Hermione start to walk away but Harry stays put.

“You know, I’m surprised you haven’t had enough and dropped dead just like poor Ceddy. You can both die as cowards.”

Harry steps closer, glowering at Draco. “Don’t you dare talk about Cedric like that.” 

Draco also steps closer, their foreheads almost touching each other as anger boils up within them. “Or what?” He shoves Harry back by the shoulders causing him to lose a bit of his balance but luckily enough Ron and Hermione were a few meters away to catch him in time.

Standing back up, he was about to lunge at Draco with his fists clenched up ready to land a punch but before he could, he was interrupted by shouting. 

“Hey Draco!”

Everyone turns around and sees you up behind Draco whose head wasn’t turned around in time. He didn’t get the chance to acknowledge who the person calling his name was as you punched him square in the face making him stumble back in pain and tripped on his feet, landing hard on his back. 

The rest stood there in horror and utter shock, their mouths slightly opened as their minds were trying to register what had just happened. Harry couldn’t believe it, you stood up for him. Were you watching the situation unfold?

Draco groans and looks up at you, pinching the sides of his nose bridge in an attempt to control his now bleeding nose. “What the fuck--”

“For your information blondie, Harry and Cedric aren’t cowards.” You slowly lean over Draco, peering down at him with narrowed eyes as you smirk. “And neither am I.” You wink and reached into your robes before throwing tissues at him, Draco watches them fall to the ground and your figure walks away, a pleased look on your face.

You make your way to the trio whose eyes were focused on you. You stand in front of Harry and hand him a potion. Harry, still speechless, stares at the unknown potion in his hands.

“It’s Murtlap Essence,” You lightly tap the sides of his hands that had his scab from last night. “Soak your hand with that, it’ll heal it.”

A warm smile appears on his face, the sides of his eyes crinkled making it more genuine. He was so thankful, he couldn’t seem to think of words to express his gratitude. For years, he was yearning for you to acknowledge his presence and the time finally came, better than what he expected it to turn out to be.

But his smile was enough for your heart to flutter and you started to notice his presence was stronger than ever before, you didn’t know why you hadn’t known him before but at least from now on; the image of his smile would burrow itself in your mind. This would be enough to want to know him more.

The two of you stare at each other for what seems like forever and the other two clear their throats, feeling awkward and unsure what to do or say. You and Harry switch back to reality and the realisation of staring at each other for a while makes you both flustered.

“Thank you Y/N, for everything. You didn’t need to punch Draco though,” Harry laughs and so did the rest of you.

You shake your head, “Nah, that pompous brat deserved it. I made sure to punch him hard so his father would hear about it.” You joked, giggling afterwards.

You faintly smile and point past the trio, indicating that you were going to take your leave. “I’ll see you soon Harry, yeah?” 

He nods and you stroll past him, but not even several meters away until Harry calls out for you: “Hogsmeade. This Saturday, would you come with--”

“Yes.”

You hastily answer back without stopping or glancing back but the both of you knew each one had supported an excited smile, both now looking forward to the date that was soon coming up.

As Harry watches your figure get smaller further down the hallways, he felt his admiration for you become extremely stronger. He saw you as his saviour, back then when he was young and vulnerable but managed to make his childhood happy despite the problems occurring in his household. He saw you as his saviour right now, where he is older and still vulnerable with the bullying and all, but once again, you made his life worthwhile; he didn’t have to worry as much anymore.

He has you by his side now, and he’ll do anything to protect you in return as an act of kindness. Just like what you did by defending him back then.

[hermits-that-craft]

Night AU - Chapter 52 - Arc 2 - Relost

AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509375/chapters/66540838 I’m sorry it took so long!

“You two are idiots.” Tango laughs breathlessly. “I can’t believe you got away with that.”

“But they did!” Zedaph cheers, smiling.

“Dude shh you’re going to wake up the hermits!” Scar stage whispers, and Cub snorts under his breath. Etho hums a song to himself, listening to Impulse and Scar play catch up with the others. 

“I can’t believe Scar has a god mode but I don’t.” Zedaph whines playfully. “I think I deserve a god mode.”

“I don’t know how to activate god mode though.” Scar says, hanging upside down off his bed. 

“Void nerfed you because you’d be too powerful” Cub says sagely, nodding his head as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“They nerfed you!” Tango cackles, falling off the bed as he laughs. Zedaph and Impulse soon follow suit, either sitting on the floor with Tango or getting dragged off the bed by the other two.

“We’re coming for you Cub!” Zedaph cackles, shuffling towards Cub’s bed. The older men quickly jumps onto his bed, standing on top of it as though his life depended on it. Etho snickers in the corner, watching as Scar is dramatically dragged to the floor by Tango.

“The floor is lava.” The words barely leave Etho’s mouth before the hermits are clinging to beds and fences as though their lives depend on it, all shooting half hearted glares at Etho.

“I thought you were asleep!” Scar says, hanging off of the fence post that the lantern is held up by.

“I didn’t think you could jump that high!” Etho counters, and the group laughs, Scar slowly lowering himself to the ground.

“Well sometimes you just gotta up you know?”

“‘Well sometimes you just gotta up.’” Zedaph quotes. “Wise words from mister GoodtimeswithScar.”

Everyone pauses, dread replacing the joy as their communicators hum in unison. Scar and Impulse both immediately shake their heads, not willing to find out if Doc or Ren are dead, or worse. No one wants to look, to find out the terrible news. To find out if a friend is dead. Killed and respawned, or their body found somewhere. Cub pulls Scar into a comforting hug, though nothing on his face could be described as anything but horrified. Zedaph taps Impulse’s hands gently, grounding the man. Tango looks at Etho, pleading with him to check with his eyes. Etho nods, and Tango lets out a relieved sigh as Etho pulls out his communicator. Horror fills his stomach, fear overtaking his common sense and brain as he reads, and rereads, the notifications. Tears slip out of his eyes, and vomit threatens to force its way out of his throat.

TheJungle has entered the server.

TheJungle: Night, I want the nHo back. I will join you if you give them to me. TheNight: I already have 1/ 4 ready for you. TheJungle: Omw

“Good news and bad news, everyone.” Etho says, his voice soft. “Night doesn’t have Doc or Beef anymore.”

“The bad news?” Tango’s voice sounds like it's traveling through a wall of honey, but Etho swallows, trying to force the fear and tears down his throat.

“The jungle is back.”

---

Iskall and Etho walk along the edge of the shopping district, Iskall quietly testing his new robotic arm. It’s been painted white, and it responds well to his movements, though he leans towards it as he walks. Etho keeps an eye on his, helping him adjust to the new weight.

“It’s kind of funny,” Iskall murmurs. “I just got used to not having the weight of an arm, and now I have to get used to the weight of one again.”

“It’s heavier than a norm- a non-robotic arm.” Etho catches himself, reminding them both that this arm is Iskall’s new normal. “So you’re going to have to get stronger.”

“Are you saying that I’m not strong.” Iskall jokingly asks.

“Yes.” Etho depans, before dodging a punch from the ex assassin. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes! Yes you are wrong!” Iskall pushes Etho gently. “I am amazing and strong and you all are weak compared to me.”

“Yessir.” Etho nods, pushing Iskall back. The pair laugh, turning around the hill before they freeze.

Doc leans on the side of the hill, his eye wide and fearful as he watches Etho and Iskall. His metal arm is gone, wires poking out of the gaping hole in his shoulder where the arm should be. Redstone, or perhaps blood, covers what is left of his lab coat. It’s torn to shreds, there’s barely anything left of the fabric that Doc took such good care of.

“Doc?” Etho asks, his voice quiet. “Doc, are you alright?”

“I need to go back.” Doc sways in the breeze. “I need to get Ren out. Oh Void, they’re going to slaughter Ren.”

“Doc you’re not making any sense.” Etho says, slowly walking towards his friend. Iskall looks at his new arm, frowning as his gaze hits the claps. “I’m sure Ren is going to be-”

“Take my arm.” Iskall says, his hand undoing one of the claps. “Get Ren back.”

“Iskall-”

“Get my friend back, Doc.” Iskall struggles with the arm, Doc helping his detach it from his body. Iskall helps Doc to attach it to his arm, Etho spluttering in the background. Etho watches and Doc pulls Iskall into a hug, a tear falling from his eye.

“I will. I’ll get Ren back.” Doc promises. 

Iskall leans against Etho as Doc flies off, a stray tear falling from his eye. Etho gently rubs his shoulder, humming to Iskall as the man struggles to contain his fear. Etho doesn’t - Etho won’t let Iskall relapse, he promised the other hermits that this would be good, healthy for Iskall. He won’t let Iskall lose himself.

Rendog burnt to death fighting Docm77 

---

They footsteps echo down the hallway, bare feet hitting the stone floors. It’s angering, this base in their domain - Night control the End and the Nether, surely they could have built a base in one of those. In any case, Night has an offer that he cannot refuse. Her long hair is in a braid, and she prides herself on knowing that she will confuse her father's sibling.

“Jungle, welcome.” Night says, their mask cracked. They look deranged, perfectly matching Jungle’s emotions. “I assume you are here to collect your players?”

“I will work for you until I get all of them back.” Jungle smiles, making sure that it’s just too wide. They scan the room, spying Beef and Doc. Two of their players. “I thought you only had one.”

“I had to lull the hermits into a false sense of security. I wanted to make them think that Experiment escaped.” Night nods to Doc, and Jungle turns his gaze to the man. 

It’s so, so painfully clear he’s scared. They can smell it on him. But he isn’t fighting Night’s control - or maybe he’s too weak to escape it. The fear only serves to break the two men further. Fear radiates off of the two men, though it’s clear that the stars that Night replaced them with are confused by their hosts’ fear. 

Perfect.

They can’t wait to bury these men in bedrock and vines.

---

“Dad?” Grian asks quietly, his eyes wide. Builder reads over the notification. Once. Twice, before he sighs. “What are we going to do?”

“I need to get something from the godly realm.” Builder says, standing slowly. Xisuma blinks, watching the god with distrust. “Something to counter Jungle.”

“Oh!” Grian lights up a small amount, and Cleo looks to the corner of the room, her mouth open as though she’s going to ask it something, “Are you getting Althea and Ella?”

“Who?” Joe asks, sitting on the table.

“My sisters.” Grian says without second thought.

“His daughters.” Rose points to Builder. “The goddess of Mushroom Islands and the goddess of roofed forests.”

Builder nods, before disappearing into the air. Xisuma wraps his arms around himself, his knees hitting his chest. Scar pats his back sympathetically, and Xisuma sighs.

“I can’t keep anyone out of here, can I?” Xisuma mumbles.

“You’re trying your hardest.” Scar says, smiling. “That’s all that matters.”

Rose summons some magic, using it to clear some of the dusk off of the higher shelves in the room. Cleo starts mumbling to herself, and everyone except Joe and Rose give her worried looks as she addresses her ramblings to Amari.

Three buzzes echo from the communicators, and Builder enters the room with two women. One of the wears a red cloak, a white dress and a brown leather corset, knives and potions hanging from it. The other women wears a simple red dress, her hair in a bob around her head, though she wears sturdy leather boots.

“You must be Xisuma!” The one in the red dress smiles, shaking his hand. “I love how you used my domain for the shopping district, It’s always nice to see people settle here!”

“Uhh, Althea you might want to introduce yourself-” The other, Ella, says, patting her back. “In any case, I want to beat up our sinling. Where the fuck are they?”

---

Amari watches over the group, as everyone settles in for the night. She refuses to allow herself to show to the mortals, and though Etho, Keralis and Cleo are kind and promise that the mortals would get used to her, she refuses to give them another reason to fear. She leaves the barracks, walking over to a small room that overlooks the shops. They glow against the night sky.

“Hello Madam Amari.” Joe Hills says, and Amari turns her head, surprised. “I assume you’re here, this is the nicest view in the building, though if you aren’t here I assume I look insane.”

Amari smiles, knowing that Mr Hills says this as he enters every room. Perhaps she’ll give him the sight, for being kind to her and her wards. Void only knows that kind eccentric people deserve a power that is from an unknown blessing, and prophecy is so very over used.

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: Pairs (baon)

Summary: This is why Edge usually gets the mail

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

“hey, check it out!”

Edge looked up from his laptop as Stretch dashed in, all but bubbling with excitement as he came through the door with a package in one hand and the rest of the mail haphazardly clenched in the other

Usually Edge got the mail despite most of it being for Stretch. His husband got letters from all over the world, from other scientists, from fans on social media. Occasionally those letters were only addressed to ‘Stretch’ or whatever his latest twitter name was. Last time Edge looked it was ‘Albert Spinestein’.

What Stretch did not know was that all his mail went through a special screening before it came to the house. It wasn’t strictly a secret, if Stretch asked, Edge would give him an honest answer, but neither did he bring it up. A lie of omission, certainly, and one that would likely earn him a few nights sleeping alone.

Foolish, really. If he sat Stretch down and explained his reasons, the likelihood was high that he would be understanding. High, yes, but not a certainty, and if he asked them to stop, Edge would be forced to either do as he was asked or commit an actual deception.

Easier to not ask and if that were cowardly, Edge would accept the title gladly to keep Stretch safe.

Like it or not, Stretch was becoming quite the public figure and Edge was not about to allow any deranged person physically hurt him by way of a package or letter. Possible emotional damage was unfortunately unpreventable unless Stretch was informed. Edge wouldn’t allow his mail to be secretly read; there was a fine line between a scan checking for bombs or suspicious powders and an unforgivable invasion of privacy, one that Edge was struggling not to cross.

The padded envelope in Stretch’s hands was small and plump, the contents seemed soft. Edge set his laptop aside and gave Stretch his full attention, watching as he tore the envelope open with all the elegance of a lion taking down a wildebeest. Bits of yellow paper flew and the packaged contents fell to the floor, the envelope gutted.

Stretch snatched it back up and held both filled hands out, “i got us matching socks!”

Edge blinked and looked at the socks in question. Two identical bundles, one in each hand and from this distance, the patterns weren’t distinct, but the colors were. Stretch held a rainbow in each fist, bright reds and greens and yellows, was that chickens on the top pair? Edge was very much afraid they were.

Stretch was still chattering on, “i mean, matching clothes is kinda lame, right? not bad!” Stretch added hurriedly, as if Edge were about to furiously argue the merits of couples strolling through town in matching sailor suits, “people can do that if they want. but you don’t really like slogan t-shirt’s, and these were funny!”

As quick as a blink, that excitement faltered into uncertainty, “i mean, if you want to. if you think it’s stupid, we don’t have to. i just thought, no one can really see your socks so it would be our funny secret, and you could be wearing the same socks as me while you were at work and i was at home and no one would ever know—it’s stupid, isn’t it, never mind, i’ll toss them all in my drawer…”

“It’s not stupid, love,” Edge raised his voice to be heard over the disheartened rambling, “I would be more than happy to wear whatever socks you’ve chosen. May I see them?”

For split-second he thought Stretch was going to refuse and shortcut off to stash the socks away. Instead, he shuffled forward and sheepishly dropped a set into Edge’s lap.

He picked them up, examining the patterns, and they were far worse than he could have dreamed. Wherever Stretch found these socks apparently carried an entire line, without care for whether the chicken came before the egg. A blue pair with red hens scattered around them, another pair that made the wearer appear to have cartoon chicken feet, others with various chicken and egg themes. By far the worst was the pair with a large chicken bent over to expose generous proportions and proclaiming ‘Guess What? Chicken Butt!’ in large letters.

They were nightmares woven of a cotton and nylon blend.

“see?” Stretch’s enthusiasm was muted, lined with hopefulness. “i thought they were funny, chickens are sort of our thing, right and, okay, yeah, they’re pretty silly, but—”

The rest of the words were smothered beneath Edge’s gentle, hushing kiss. Stretch leaned into it with a sigh, very nearly crawling into Edge’s lap when he drew away. Edge held him back, stripping away the packaging on the socks. He pulled off the pair he was wearing, a sedate, plain black, and slipped on the ‘butt’ pair.

Horrifying, yes, but worth it for the spark of delighted humor shining in his husband’s eye lights.

“No pictures,” Edge warned, “you did say this was our secret.”

“promise!” Stretch said, solemnly, drawing an ‘x’ over his sternum with his finger. Then he tore the packaging away from his own set and slipped his matching socks on.

“Awesome,” Stretch said gleefully. He flopped down on the sofa, settling his skull on Edge’s thigh. He raised one foot high and waggled his toes happily and the chicken’s rear end rippled with them. Edge could only watch with a sort of gruesome fascination. Luckily, Stretch bored of it quickly, rolling over to lay on his side, his legs tucked in so that his feet didn’t dangle over the arm. “thanks, babe.”

Edge wasn’t about to pretend that this was anything else than a favor done out of affection. “You’re welcome, love.”

Stretch snuggled in closer, his voice already taking on a hint of drowsiness. “now if i could only figure out why everything i order with two-day shipping always takes three days to get here. s’weird.”

Edge did not let his gentle stroking so much as hesitate. “I can look into it if you like.” And insist that all packages be screened and delivered to Stretch the day they came through.

“nah, so long as they get here, no big deal. not to me, anyway.” Stretch’s breathing deepened as he drifted off to sleep.

Edge contemplated that for a long moment, then let it go, tucked away into his mental file of ‘better to not ask.’ He went back to his laptop as Stretch napped away, wriggling his own toes inside the socks.

At least they were comfortable and if it made him the ‘butt’ of a joke, well, he and Stretch could be a matched set.

-finis-

[vitamx]

Over the Farlands Wall: Chapter 1, Part 1

[ Also read on AO3! ] [ You are here! ] [ CH. 1 P. 2 ] [ CH. 1 P. 3 ]

~ An “Over The Garden Wall” Hermitcraft AU ~

---

 "...Antelope, Guggenheim, Albert, Salami, Giggly..."

 Grian was going to drive him mad if he kept listing off bad names for a parrot, Mumbo thought dryly to himself. He would end up driving him up the wall someday, he was sure of it.

The dead leaves crunched rather loudly under his mismatched brown and black shoes, one of few other sounds present to distract him from Grian's ramblings.

The man in question was walking with a skip in his step, a tea kettle atop his head (he claimed it was an elephant head), along with a pair of olive green overalls and white dress shirt with a black ribbon on the front. He had his usual elytra, though torn and tattered, attached to said overalls, and he wore a brown satchel over his shoulder.

Mumbo, on the other hand, wore a pointy red hat, along with a navy blue cape with three sets of golden buttons on the front, a string holding the first pair together. Underneath the cape, he wore a plain white dress shirt and thin black suspenders, paired with his usual black formal pants, and an unintentionally mismatched pair of shoes. 

He can't really remember why they're dressed up this way.

  "Fly-guy, Tom, Thomas, Tambourine, Beak-Face McFeather, Artichoke, Penguin, Pete, Steve... Oh! But the worst name for a parrot would have to be-"

"Grian! Would you-" Mumbo sighed, swiveling his head around to stare at Grian and his parrot, before halting in his steps. "Wait... W-Wait a second,"

  Grian stopped next to him, eyebrows furrowed as he pet his parrot on its head.

He looked at Mumbo, who was turning around to look at their surroundings, with a confused frown.

  "What?" He questioned, shivering from a particularly cold gust of wind.

 "Uh... Grian?" Mumbo coughed, eyes flickering towards him. "Where... Where are we?"

 "...In the woods?" Grian responded, tilting his head.

  Mumbo sighed, pinching the brink of his nose, and wildly gestured his hand around them.

  "No, I- I mean, what are we doing out here?" Mumbo huffed, his foot crunching atop another dead leaf.

 "We're... Walking home?" Grian said, sighing quietly to himself.

 "Grian!" Mumbo hissed, gritting his teeth in aggravation. "I- I think we're lost. Augh, we- we should've left a trail, or something!" He groaned, covering his face in his hands.

  Grian offered a small smile, and pulled out a small bundle of golden carrots from his satchel, and snapped a small piece off and dropped it on the ground.

  "I can start leaving a trail of golden carrots!" He offered, only proving to aggravate Mumbo even further.

 "No, it's not gonna do us any good now," Mumbo sighed, hunching over. "We're lost. Completely, one hundred percent, lost, all because- because-"

  A sharp chopping sound interrupted him, and both he and Grian's heads swerved towards the sound, and both crouch down behind the nearest tree.

Mumbo slowly shuffled closer to Grian, grabbing ahold of his shoulder tightly, who whispered a quiet defiant "hey!".

  "Did you hear that?" Mumbo whispers.

 "Yeah," Grian mutters, rolling his eyes.

 "Do you think it's some kind of- of deranged lunatic with an axe waiting out there in the darkness for innocent victims?" He murmurs quickly, gasping when Grian tore himself away from his grasp. "Grian!"

  He faltered in running after him immediately, face scrunched in concern, before scuttering off after Grian in exchange for getting away from whatever it was that was making noise in the trees. He nearly tripped over a branch once or twice, but he caught up to Grian rather quickly, pulling him behind another tree.

  "Grian, you're gonna get us in trouble again!" He hissed quietly, resisting a sigh when Grian stuck his tongue out at him. "You need to-"

  Mumbo quickly cut himself off with another gasp, the image of another person coming into view past the trees they hid behind.

He wore a puffy, green coat, and held an axe in one hand and a lantern in the other. Strapped to his back were hoards of sticks, and around his head was a green and black helmet with a tinted visor. Other than his coat, he wore a plain dark grey turtleneck, black dress pants, and dark grey snow boots.

He was humming an incoherent tune, chopping away at a red-tinted tree.

  "We should ask him for help," Grian hummed quietly.

 "No, we should not ask him for help," Mumbo stated, furrowing his eyebrows.

  Grian turned his head around to look at Mumbo, pulling a face.

  "But-" Grian began, exasperated.

 "Shh!" Mumbo whispered, finger held in front of his mouth.

 "You shush!" Grian huffed.

 "You shush!" Mumbo retorted, gritting his teeth and covering Grian's mouth with his hand, who in turn let out a muffled yell.

  Holding his breath, and struggling to keep Grian in one place, Mumbo peeked around the trunk of the tree, watching as the strange man with the axe wandered off to another part of the forest. The minute he was out of sight, Mumbo let go of Grian, letting out a strangled sigh.

  "Rude!" Grian scoffed, straightening the bangs of his hair with a huff.

  Mumbo ignored him, raising a hand to bite at his nails, pulling it back in disgust when the taste of redstone filled his mouth.

Oh, right. His fingernails had tons of redstone dust underneath them.

 Well, now he just felt stupid.

  "Argh... D- D'you reckon we should've asked him for help?" He hummed nervously, wringing his fingers together.

  Grian groaned dramatically, flopping onto the ground, a few leaves crunching underneath him. Mumbo's mouth pressed into a thin line, rolling his eyes and resting his chin in his hand, leaning against the trunk of the tree behind him.

  "Maybe I can help you, man. I mean- you dudes are lost, right?"

  Both Mumbo and Grian snapped their heads towards the sudden voice, eyes landing on a bluebird, sitting atop a low branch (that was strange- any birds other than parrots weren't usually in normal vanilla worlds.)

Mumbo gapes at the bird, blinking several times before smacking the sides of his face.

  "What in the world is going on." He muttered, dumbfounded. There was no way a bird just talked to them.

 "Well, you're slapping your face, and I'm answering your question, and-" Grian began, waving his hand around.

 "No- Grian, a bird's brain isn't big enough for- for cognizant speech." Mumbo interrupted, huffing.

  The bluebird's pointed eyes narrowed, chest feathers fluffing up angrily.

  "What was that?" The bird asked annoyedly, hopping forward.

  Grian rolled his eyes as Mumbo began to nervously bicker with the bird, rolling around onto his stomach, and placed a small chunk of a golden carrot atop the back of a small, black turtle. Mumbo said they needed a trail- he might as well start now, despite Mumbo thinking otherwise.

  "I mean, I-I'm just saying, you're, you're weird, like, not normal, I- I mean-" Mumbo groaned, hiding his face with his hands. "Oh my word, stop talking to it, Mumbo..."

 "It?" The bird scoffed, clearly offended.

  Grian sat up, a few stray leaves clinging to his clothes, and adjusted the tea kettle on his head before placing another bit of golden carrot on part of the cloth of Mumbo's cape that was draped across the ground.

Mumbo sputtered once more, putting his hands up in a sort of defense, shaking his head.

  "Uh- I, I-I'm-" Mumbo's voice was quickly drowned out by a shriek as he snapped his head around, standing up in an instant.

  In front of them now was the same odd man from before, only now, his axe was raised threateningly, the lantern he held shining in their faces.

Grian stood up slowly, subconsciously pulling his tattered elytra wings around him as he stepped closer to Mumbo.

  "What are you doing here?!" The man yelled, eyes narrowing dangerously behind his visor. "Explain yourselves, now."

 "Aaand, that's my cue to leave. Later, dudes," The bird muttered, quickly flying away.

  Mumbo glanced over to the bird for a second, before looking back at the man before them, curling and uncurling his hands into fists, ignoring how they were shaking.

  "Calm- calm down, mister! Wh-Whatever you do here is your business!" Mumbo squeaked, gritting his teeth and stepping backwards as much as he could. " W-W-We just wanna get home with all our legs and arms attached, haha!"

 "These woods are no place for you!" The man growled, grip tightening on his axe. "Don't you know the Beast is afoot here?!"

 "'Th-The Beast'? W-W-We, we don't know anything about that!" Mumbo gulped, tilting his head away from the axe. "W-We're just two lost people, trying to get home!"

  The man seemed to falter for a second, grip tightening once more before he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut for a second or two before lowering his axe, shoulders drooping.

Mumbo and Grian let out a silent sigh of relief, letting their own tension fade as the man struggled to look them in the eye.

 A faint breeze passed through when he finally opened his mouth to sleep.

  "Well," The man scoffed, shaking his head wearily. "Welcome to the Unknown. You're more lost than you realize- The name's Xisuma."

 ---

[asryakino]

Hands down she was the best mage the party had ever had in their careers.  When Je'zal decided to retire, everyone had been worried about having to train a whole new mage to fit in with the party. They'd been concerned about how well some young blood would work with the often crass group of adventurers. And the wounds of Je'zal's leaving were still fresh to boot. Even Ir'eka, their Ogre Barbarian, had shed mighty tears at the announcement.

Fortunately, Je'zal had a replacement mage all lined up to take their place. "A mage born into the craft." They'd beamed. "Raised her myself." They insisted when asked about credentials. Je'zal had even been proud that their new mage had recently successfully summoned a familiar! Proof that she was more than ready to begin her own quest into the world. They were so proud of it, they introduced the damned cat FIRST when showing off the their replacement.

Leila had seemed so very meek at first. Shyly hiding behind her blonde curls. If she was twenty, she wasn't a day more. Fresh-faced and just… well. Leila was -odd-. No one could really blame her, though. If she'd been raised around the like of Je'zal it was bound to break the mind of any sane creature.

Hell, the elf had driven many of the party themselves to the brink of insanity when they started rambling on about this or that. But Leila was even moreso strange.

It wasn't unheard of for a mage to be attached to their familiar. And Leila was no different. You'd think the cat was just another limb; the way those two moved. And wherever one was, the other wasn't far away. Most of the adventuring party simply wrote it off. After all, all the mages they'd known in the past were similar. Even the ranger was overly protective of that hawk companion. And those who knew anything about familiars or had lost an animal companion knew how devastating it could be to lose that connection. Snuffkin was on the fairly tiny side of things, after all.

But she insisted it was the -cat- who did all the magic. Constantly denouncing the idea that she, herself, was casting the spells. Honestly, the joke sometimes wore a bit thin. 'Snuffkin says you're welcome.' 'Snuffkin thinks that's the wrong way.' 'Snuffkin heartily disagrees.' It could get a bit irritating that she took no credit herself.

The fight against that grizzly Bugbear was only finished because of the enhanced fireball that had burnt it to cinders. And she insisted that Snuffkin had demanded fried fish treats from the rogue in exchange for saving his life. He obliged, but it was still strange. And everyone had seen the lake freeze almost in an instant during that storm that nearly toppled their ferry! The waves were frozen in mid-air!

When she wasn't refusing to accept the compliments paid, she was constantly studying on the edge of camp, furiously turning between sections. As if she needed to study MORE magic! She never even looked at the pages, staring at them with blank eyes. Even Trevor, their bard, teased her for -that-. He'd ask if it was an interesting read and she'd act as if it was the cat studying some new spell or other.

Then during that dungeon crawl, she acted as if she couldn't read the magnus' old text. So committed to this bumpkin country girl routine she actually had held the cat up to the book for a good ten minutes before telling the rest of us what it said! She's either committed to this role and should be a top level bard instead of a mage; or she should be committed to an asylum!

To prove her story wrong they'd even had a wandering cleric cast Detect Magic on the pair. She confirmed that while the cat had more magical presence than Leila did, it was most likely the bond they shared as Mage-Familiar. Going so far as to put a spell focus itself on the animal's collar!

They'd dropped the subject shortly after, reassured that their mage was simply a few pints short of a keg, and had some derangement from being raised by that mad elf. It didn't matter in the end, anyway. Leila got along with everyone and had a cracking good hat at a handful of skills. Snuffkin seemed to simply be exactly what you'd think the too-smart animal familiar of a powerful mage would be, and they had a powerful mage ally that they could count on during combat. One who could cast offensive and defensive spells with ease.

The mage, for her part was quite pleased with her familiar as well. It wasn't every day that you found a familiar so perfect for your every magical necessity. And besides that, Leila was quite good at handling the finances.

[emeraldtawny]

Why I Love The 7 of Hearts

...I said I would do it. And now that it has officially been one month since his route release, the official banner for spoilers is now lifted! That being said, I’ll put a disclaimer now: I will be talking about key aspects and spoilers from Kyle’s route. Be warned.

Alright, now onto my thesis. Title: Why Kyle Ash Is My Favourite Otome Husband To Date - An Incredibly Biased Review, by Tawny ^w^

Part 1: Before his route

Before we talk about the actual route itself, let me explain to you guys why this man already had my heart before even getting to date him. I’ll be honest; when the game first came out, he was already in my top 3 but he was not the best boi (that went to Fenrir and stayed like that for a bit). That is, until I played through Lancelot’s route. Being able to get more interactions with Kyle gave me more insight into the kind of person he is, and I honestly liked what I saw. He condemned Lancelot for throwing his life away needlessly without concern for his safety (important note to come back to) and made it clear that his affiliation with the Red Army didn’t mean anything when there are lives on the line (another impotant point to revisit). I honestly respected that about him and sure enough, he snuck his way into top spot and has stayed there since. And if I’m being real, his route has completely solidified that. He ain’t moving. Ever.

Personal Rambling #1

Okay, now comes the fun part hehehe >:3

With the question “did you enjoy Kyle’s route?”, is there an option for “everything” and also “yes yes yes, holy shit yes”? Because, Kyle’s route is a big fat YES out of 10 for me, and I say that as unbiasedly as possible. I noticed that there didn’t seem to be any dev notes released before Kyle’s route dropped (my poor boi getting shafted :c), so allow me to give you my own variation:

Kyle

Recommended if you like: Yukimura (brusque yet sweet, kind of an idiot but means well) and Mitsunari (oblivious genius)

Sexy…7

Drama…7

Romance…9

Dev Notes: For a man so smart, he’s awfully clueless when it comes to you. This weirdly approachable doctor may lack tact, but that doesn’t stop the blood pressures rising and the hearts racing - both yours and his. Get ready for an angst road bump at part 20 (as well as his Dramatic Ending), but rest assured that the doctor is here to see you now.

When I say he’s a combo of Yuki and Mitsunari, I’m not kidding. He’s basically Yuki without the full-on tsun tendencies (he has a few, but you could call it more embarrassment and awkwardness compared to being a tsundere) and then a touch of Mitsunari’s infuriating obliviousness and bam, you got Kyle!

I won’t give a synopsis of the route, since you’ve all likely read it or know most of the story (why on earth are you reading this far in otherwise?) so allow me to share with you, my personal favourite chapters/parts of his route!

Chapter 7 - the first (and definitely not last) instance of a blushing Kyle in his natural habitat. Bonus for glasses uwu

Chapter 14 - the introduction of Goo, the new best pet in Cradle (sorry Chutney). Legit, I recorded that entire section where Kyle and MC are naming Goo and I was just squeeing like a deranged lunatic because I loved it so much like bdjxbgdkfnxfkd

Chapter 24 (His POV) - DRUNK KYLE POV. Of course, he’s still cognitive to have proper thoughts, it wasn’t Masamune levels of drunkenness. But...jealous Kyle. That right there is a rarity but WOW, it’s a treat ;3

Towards the end of the route when MC finds Kyle’s confession written on his freaking hand (Kyle you doof) and just...him burying his amused smile into the crook of his elbow when she says she likes someone…..HNNNNNGGGGGGG yes

Part 2: Character Development

This man has such strong convictions to his profession that it’s honestly admirable. He may only have one pillar to stand on, but that pillar is strong and immovable. I’m of course talking about this line: “I absolutely despise people who are ready to throw away their lives”. Sound familiar at all? Remind you of...a certain Red King? Honestly though, this commitment to his work as a doctor when he seems to do nothing else except drink himself into a stupor most nights (if not every night) is awe-inspiring, and I’m not the only one who thinks so.

The MC in Kyle’s route is my new favourite. I love how the romance she develops for Kyle starts off as simple admiration, just her wanting to follow in his footsteps and prove useful to people without provoking the war occurring around her. She’s grounded and has a clear purpose, which is refreshing compared to other iterations of her being more meek and more better categorised as a “damsel in distress”. Don’t get me wrong, I”m not criticising those types of MCs. It’s just nice to see a driven MC with a clear goal and a motive for why she wants to do the things she does, enough for her to stay longer than the allotted month (something NONE OF THE OTHER ROUTES DO, HELL YEAH KYLE!). She actively chose to stay in Cradle - even when her ticket home was right in front of her - because she wanted to help Kyle save lives. It’s refreshing. And it makes for some great interactions between her and Kyle, especially later in the route when they’re more comfortable with each other. Which leads me onto my next point…

It felt like a real relationship. The slow growth and blooming of feelings, the cute interactions they’d share (every time Kyle stroked her hair or bopped her on the head, my heart exploded into confetti), and how awkward they both were with each other. God, if you guys could have seen me reading his route with my dumb dopey grin and squeaking like a lovesick children’s toy every 10 seconds...I was a mess gielkdsnglkd.

I love how they let us see into Kyle’s world. It may be a simple outlook on life, but you can’t fault the man. His strong conviction to save as many lives as he can because he feels it’s what he was made to do, and his importance on smiling and presenting a calm, friendly image of himself as he treats his patients (remember the line “People are like mirrors.”. It’s important.). He’s a very “my pace” kind of person, and it was fun to just kind of...relax a bit. Sure, war preparations were happening but wait one moment, please. I need to educate Jonah on what is needed for a balanced nutritious breakfast. It was refreshing to see a route that was surprisingly chill for most of it until the ending crescendo, and I welcomed it.

Alright….angst time. All of the little hints we were getting, like his role of the 7 of Hearts not being “set in stone”, had me squinting at the screen like “boi, what you hiding?”. When we got to drinking with Kyle, Oliver and Blanc and the conversation of Kyle having a brother came up, I was like “....oh. This is gonna be baaad.”. And this wasn’t even including Colin (because when a character gets named, you know they’re important.). But…..Chapter 20. It actually came out of left field, sucker-punched me in the kidney, cracked my heart and left me crying as I’m just reading this whole thing unfolding. Colin’s heartbroken cries, Kyle’s unmoving unresponsive form as he lets Colin punch him, the symbolism and connection of both Kyle and Colin having lost an older brother because of the war. I’m….. ;~; aaaaaa. And then in the Avatar Challenge following the angst, MC throws the “people are like mirrors” line back at him to get him to break down a bit, to let some emotion out, and I was just a blubbering mess at this point. The route is generous enough to give you a floof and mild spice break, but then if you choose the Dramatic Ending…..you…..you visit...his brother’s grave...and the waterworks begin again.

Continuing on from the point above, this means Kyle also has connections with The Day That Went Dark, along with Fenrir and more importantly, Ray. From the way it was described in Kyle’s route, he himself doesn’t know for certain if Ray used magic or not. He only knows that Ray was there when shit went down. So even after his brother passed from the tragedy, Kyle held no animosity or desire for revenge against Ray; very fitting for his character. This route made me realise just how similar Kyle and Ray are: they’re both very determined in their ways to keep the peace and they both hold strong to their views of freedom and honesty (Ray and Kyle respectively). And you can tell that Kyle doesn’t hold it against Ray for whatever happened on The Day That Went Dark.

I would honestly love to see a scenario of the two of them sitting down together in a room and just awkwardly yet honestly expressing all of their pent-up emotions about that whole ordeal (angst writers, if you’re reading this...only if you want to ofc ^w^).

Personal Rambling #2: Gushing Edition

So those were my structured notes, but now let me indulge you on my messy bullet points that I made throughout reading his route. A lot of these are pointless to character building and things I just thought were cute and needed attention drawn to sooo….ye ^w^

Like the rest of the Red Army, Kyle was born into a family that carries the mantle of 7 of hearts. All of them doctors.

Cute theme of beds??? (his bday story and them sleeping in the same room)

“When he wasn’t talking, he’s actually quite attractive.” (wow, r00d)

His palm notes are work and other things related (and he doesn’t always remember why he wrote it down bgrkdgn)

Not a sweet tooth (dammit Kyle, that’s your only downfall :c)

Easily embarrassed despite his earnest and straightforward mannerisms

Doesn’t dote on MC and teaches her what he can

His importance on smiling and presenting a calm, friendly image of himself as he treats his patients (“People are like mirrors.” - ch 8)

Head pats. Lots of head pats

Awkward sweet love (kill me it’s too adorable)

Edgar’s silent envy yet sweet support of their romance (this boi istg…)

Super proactive MC (she’s my new fave, seriously I love her)

Lots of touching (head pats, forehead bonks), he doesn’t know what personal space is (and I love it)

His pig is the cutest thing in the entire world, I need 20

Really good with kids…...yes.

“I absolutely despise people who are ready to throw away their lives” (incredibly strong convictions - doesn’t have many, but the ones he does have he is incredibly dedicated to)

Stays longer than the allotted month (FUCK YES)

His brother’s death strengthened his convictions to be able to handle being an army doctor (direct and honest, no bs about sacrificing your life etc etc)

The “People are like mirrors” line is tearing my fucking heart apart (makes sense in chapter 20 avatar challenge)

The angst…..his brother...and Colin….I’m rdfkgndkjfnxclk ;-;

His realisation of love….and his confession….lord, IM DROWNING IN UWUS

Saving Amon despite him murdering many innocent people, a big decision that could have changed the tide for the future, but he stuck with his beliefs

MC’s insistence that Kyle doesn’t like her that way, and Kyle’s inability to realise it’s love (help me it’s so fucking cute I’m dying)

Whether intentional or not, he’s good at diverting the attention away from him when he wants it off him (maybe MC just assumes he’s an idiot?? lmao)

So his glasses are for sentimental reasons (but does he need them???) and his alcohol drinking habits are from his father (not a coping mechanism)

Incredibly kind...but not good at showing it (helping MC distract herself by giving her work(?))

MC’s obsession with Kyle’s eyes and collarbone (same sis, SAME) and Kyle’s obsession with her hair (fsekfbksfnjweksdgn kd,nAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

Conclusion

Overall, Kyle’s route is very solid. It may not add much to the overarching lore of Cradle (aside from another victim in The Day That Went Dark), but the route was still adorable, enjoyable and incredibly sweet. I had no moments where I felt bored throughout his route (then again, that’s likely the bias talking) and the balance between cute floof, tear-jerking angst and then hot hot spice (that he FULLY deserves, mind you) came together into a wonderful experience that left my heart full and sad when it all ended.

My final message to you all: Kyle Ash is the sweetest, most adorkable nerd that has ever graced my presence and I hope that even a tiny portion of my love for him rubs off on you, just so you can see how amazing this boi is. Thank you for your time and for listening to my ramblings gesgnsk ^^;;

Bonus: my two favourite screenshots from his route

[doctorinnovatium]

The Doctor’s Workshop: The Prologue

From some time, from some place beyond the veil of worlds, an untraceable signal is being broadcast across the realm of Fantasy. One cannot easily tune into it intentionally; those who do accomplish this feat accidentally, often when tuning their radio or television in search for another station. Those who only receive the signal audibly only hear a slightly shrill and subtly unhinged voice whose accent implies its owner to be from the British Isles from at least one iteration of Earth. Those with visuals see a thin, Caucasian man dressed in a red waistcoat and white, long-sleeved shirt, with a pair of peculiarly tinted goggles - red and blue respectively, like the tint of vintage 3D glasses - obscuring his eyes and giving off an eerie glow. The man, whose face was contorted into a welcoming if rather deranged grin, stands in front of a blackboard, where a somewhat enthusiastic hand has written ominously, "THE DOCTOR IS IN!!!"

"Greetings, people and likewise of the Imagiverse! It is I, Doctor Innovatium, discoverer of the elusive element Innovatium and somewhat of a legend, if I'm right, in universal scientific circles. You may or may not have heard of me or my contributions to the fields of science and technology; indeed, it is likely you know not of either and are wondering who this rambling fellow is! In which case, I will give you a brief rundown;

"In the 1895th year of Earth, London, I had discovered the life blood of the universe; a peculiar substance that serves both as a near-infinite power source and a... dampener of the fabric of reality, or, to put it another way, a space-time hallucinogen. You see, the force of Reality is not as binary as you would think, but rather an analogue quality, so that there are things that are more real than others. What Innovatium invokes is what I've labelled hyper-fantasy, an extreme level of non-reality which does away with the conventional laws of physics and logic and-

"Oh, look at me ramble! Sorry, the nature of the Imagiverse is such a fascinating subject for me, I tend to lose myself. Anyway, I discovered this peculiar element and wasted no time experimenting with its capabilities. With its reality-bending properties, I found it could open many doors to realising the scientific fictions that occupied the minds of many back in those days, what with the Secret of Flight and so forth. I had even hypothesised the use of Innovatium to power our locomotives, although I never saw that patent be accepted by the Bureau.

"Then came the faithful night I finished constructing my then-latest invention, a portal that could transport one to the Realm of Fantasy, which I had theorised to exist in tandem with the Realm of Reality we knew back then. I'm... afraid I'm rather blurry on the details of the occurrence, but I know that one moment I had been turning on the portal, next thing I was here, in the same workshop I had been in prior, but unable to leave! Thankfully, it meant I could continue my research without the interference of third-parties, and so I have been living here for the past... well, I'm not too sure how long I've been here, time seems to avoid this place, but I have been living here a long time since, isolated from the rest of the universe I now know to be the Realm of Fantasy; the Imagiverse.

"... Well, that wasn't as brief as it should have been, but never mind. I shall get straight to the point; for a long time now, I have hidden from the rest of the Imagiverse, tinkering and tinkering, letting my name become a mere legend among those few who have peered through the veils of their worlds. Today - that is, the point of time that I am transmitting from - that will no longer be the case. I am officially establishing communications with whoever receives this transmission, and this is how you may establish contact-"

"Dad, what're you doing?"

Doctor Innovatium pauses, turning to his left where his daughter, Alice, was standing in the doorway, her chrome-like face bearing the expression of intrigued suspicion. He had devised many contraptions during his time in this isolated bubble, but not one of those miraculous devices could take his daughter's place as his most prized creation. Time being what it is here, he could not remember exactly when he had the sudden longing for companionship or when he had acted upon that longing to devise his first artificial lifeform, but he was already thinking that she had been with him forever, as if the years before didn't matter anymore. It was a pity the visual recording apparatus would not be able to record her likeliness, as the people were missing out on the chance to gaze upon her metallic beauty.

"I'm in the middle of a transmission at the moment, Alice," he replied, in a tone considerably more soft than when he had been addressing his imaginary audience. "I did tell you of my plans, didn't I?"

"Well, I thought you weren't seriously going through with it," she responded curtly. "Do you seriously think anyone would be able to receive that transmission? We're too far away from any worlds for their radios and stuff to be able to pick it up! How many people are you expecting to respond?"

Doctor Innovatium sighs, leaning towards the recording apparatus, a complicated contraption with an eerily-realistic eye fitted onto a large, telescope-like appendage. He turns a dial on a panel fitted into the device, and those watching (or listening) are denied the ability to hear the conversation.

"Alice," the Doctor says, kneeling in front of his daughter so that they were eye-to-eye. "This is no ordinary transmitter, as I'm sure you may have guessed. When a radio - or for that matter, an antique television - is adjusted to any frequency that does not correspond to a worldly channel, they play static, is that not so? Do you ever wonder why you get static instead of, say, nothing at all? It's because it's receiving signals from a plethora of different sources, some perhaps light years away from their planet. What I'm broadcasting right now will ride on the cosmic frequencies of the Imagiverse, so it will be possible for anyone to receive it. Now, I'm not saying that everyone will be able to; I suspect that it will only be decipherable on select and special circumstances, or perhaps it will depend on their equipment. That, in turn, may actually make it easier for us, eh?

"Besides," continued the Doctor, "you're always wanting to interact with the outside world, which I can understand. It can be very lonely here, save for the company of our, hah, assistants. Perhaps you can take this opportunity to finally talk with the Imagiverse, maybe make some friends!" His smile returns, albeit warmer. "Now, may I please finish my transmission?"

Alice looked down to her feet before looking back up to her father with a stern expression. "And you'll let me talk with the outside world?"

"Absolutely."

Eyes towards the eccentric camera, then back at the Doctor. "Okay."

The Doctor pats his daughter on the shoulder, his grin widening. "Brilliant." With that, he positively strides back to the device with a single step, turns the dial back and continues.

"As I was saying, upon receiving this transmission, you will be in the possession of a device you didn't have before. Where you may find said device will depend; it may be on a counter, it may be next to a computer-like contraption of yours, or it may perhaps have materialised before you as you are listening. Either way, you will know it to be a gift of mine; it will enable you to establish contact with us from your world. Simply take it to a device that you wish to contact us with, and it will make some... Modifications to said device. I've designed it to be exceptionally versatile, so you can leave all the efforts to the device.

When the modifications have been made, you will be able to contact me," the Doctor turns to his daughter, who is watching him with her arms crossed, before adding, "and my daughter at any time. You may ask us any questions you may have, although I beseech you keep any... intimate questions you have for my daughter to yourself. She is still, at least in my eyes, quite young, so I will not tolerate any amorous advances-"

"Oh come on, dad!"

"- that you may make towards Alice. Anyway, I believe that all points have been accomplished for this broadcast, so I shall end the transmission here. I look forward to hearing from the people and likewise of the Imagiverse and to finally step out of the mists of legend and into the public eye once more. So for now, adieu, auf wiedersehen, farewell."

Silence. The transmission concludes, at least for the time being. Those who listen through the transmission would receive the device, and if they choose, they would use it to contact the mysterious Doctor and his daughter. It is uncertain the number of recipients that would respond, but considering the expanse of the Realm of Fantasy, it pays to be optimistic, at least on the part of the Doctor. _____________________________

And so starts the blog! Hello, Tumblr, this is @adamskelecoot​, coming at ya with my first roleplaying blog. I've been devoting quite some time into getting this ready, what with creating the icons for both characters, and am proud to announce this ship ready to sail. The roleplay (at least, on my side) will include originally crafted icons drawn by yours truly (with borders sourced elsewhere - see Sources page). Usage of said icons will start off as liberal for now, as most of the planned icons are still in production, but the ones I have made so far should suffice for now. I look forward to seeing how this project will pan out. I would like word to spread about my new blog, so any voluntary act of promotion is greatly appreciated, as long as you @ this blog. That's all I can say atm, so make sure to check out the pages on my blog, especially the Rules page, and I'll see you in the Workshop!

[miraclejune]

Mismatched

For the first time in many months, it’s raining outside. Summer dwindled around the corner and  slowly, the winter season crept in. The pitter-patter of raindrops painted the dry ground. The sky turned dark and eventually the streets of Seoul became deserted. The usual busy road was long gone in no time. The one thing all foreigners agree with is that Koreans hate the rain, they will do anything just to avoid it.

Walking on the damp road, I made my way to Gangdong district. Phone on my left hand and umbrella on the other. I took careful steps, at the same time looking at the map displayed on my phone. Just another block away. Knowing where I’m headed, I slowly slip my phone on my coat pocket making sure it was safe and dry. I adjusted my heavy backpack and gained pace.

Momentarily, my feet stopped, I moved my umbrella away from my view. revealing a tall building. My eyes trailed upwards the never ending tower. I sighed and made my way inside. The guard greeted me with a smile, and led me inside. I thanked him and closed my umbrella, placing it on the rack near the entrance. Two secretaries welcomed me in the front desk, again with a bow I greeted them. I’m not really a smiley-kind of person. “Do you have an appointment, miss?” she asked, looking up to me and to her computer. I nodded. “With whom?”

“Um, a certain Mr. Kim Jae Hoon.” my Korean was a bit poor but she understood and told me to wait. Her hand reached out for the phone. My eyes scanned the place, wow. This is such a nice building. It looks new and fresh. My attention was caught by the call of the secretary, “He’ll be seeing you now, miss---” her voice trailed off, clearly waiting for me to say my name. I rummaged for my I.D. inside my coat and lend it to her. She took it with two hands and typed in my information on her computer.

Tapping my hand on my sides, I waited impatiently. I’m not really a people person, but because of my line of work I have to suck it up and work with others. I looked over the secretary who was clearly having a hard time typing in my name because it was long and is in English. Upon clearing my throat she looked at me and apologized, “I can do it” she bowed again and apologized, removing herself from the chair. I circled around the desk, not bothering to sit down. After typing in my contact information, I went back in front of the desk with my I.D. clutched on my hand. “Sorry again. He’s on the 11th floor, the elevator is just up ahead. Thank you.” she bowed again and moved her hand to the direction I should be going.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a few employees who got off. They were loud. I stepped aside, giving them room to walk out and entered the elevator alone. As the doors slowly secured shut, I heaved a deep sigh. “I should’ve picked a different career.. This job is energy-draining.” I was rambling, almost forgetting to press the 11th floor button. The trip was short, seems like no one else was going up.

A ‘ding’ indicated that I have arrived. I waited for the doors to open and went on my way. On cue, I cursed under my breath. “Fuck, I left so suddenly and didn’t even asked where the office was.” I sighed in frustration and paced to the nearest door. There’s no point in going back and asking. I can find it on my own. I checked every door, and with luck the 4th one was labeled “Production Design Office” Knocking on the glass door twice, I gradually opened the door. It was an average sized room with a few desks here and there. The scene was familiar, this is the same as my office. All cluttered and messy. Everyone was so busy, no one batted an eye in my direction. My head scanned the room, I just stood there. Not really wanting to talk to anyone, but the thought of losing my job pushed me to walk towards the nearest person. “Excuse me,” the guy looked at me at once. Eyes widening, he stood up and bowed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t hear your knock!!” still bowing, he apologized loudly, gaining the attention of everyone else. They all apologized in unison and went back to work. Okay? He straightened his posture, I bowed reassuring him it was fine. He gave me a toothy grin and asked me to sit down.

“You’re here for Mr. Jae Hoon, right?” with a flirty grin he asked. Trying my best not to gag, I nodded my head. His smile faltered with the cold response he received. His eyes moved to the screen of his computer, typing in some stuff. “JAE!! THE ARTIST IT HERE!!!” I recoiled a little with his sudden shout. Looking around the room, no one seemed to mind.

A tall, fit guy made his way through the clutter of people and work. He adjusted his glasses and greeted me with a bow before ushering me towards a meeting room. As soon as he closed the glass door, the noise from outside was muffled. Waiting for him to sit down, I made my way around the small table. “O-oh, please sit down.” scratching his head, he awkwardly gestured me to sit down. Before doing so, I placed my laptop in my bag. He sat down beside me.

“Your company told us you have a hard time speaking Korean as of now,” he smiled. I nodded and rummaged through my bag. I pulled out my laptop and signalled him to continue. “O-oh.. so are we starting now? Can you understand?” after inputting my password, I faced him. “I’ll try my best.” he chuckled, giving him a puzzled look, he looked at me and spoke in English.

“They asked me to entertain you because I’m the only one who can speak English here,” his pronunciation was on point and his voice sounded sincere. I almost broke out a smile. “Ah.” that was all I can say. He smiled and asked me to proceed. An hour went by as I was presenting the illustrations and rough sketches to him, a girl went in and gave us coffee. Feeling a little bad, I still spoke up and told her I don’t drink coffee. She was taken aback, gaining composure she apologized and told me she’ll get a different drink. With her insisting tone, I cannot argue. She left and we continued with the work.

“So, the animation---Thank you Junhee---as I was saying the animation will be finished by the end of this month?” talking on a more serious tone, he stopped mid-sentence to thank the girl who gave us coffee and went back to the topic. I nodded. “The rough animation will be finished by the end of this month. But the final output would probably take 2 or 3 months.” his eyebrows furrowed. “That long?” he paused for a while. Not knowing what to say, I cleared my throat and explained. “Yes, since I work alone.” his tired eyes found mine. I didn’t break eye contact. “What do you mean? Aren’t you in a team?” he leaned back his chair, arms crossing against his stomach as he did so. Again, I nodded.

He hummed, continuing to scan me with his eyes. I shifted around my seat, i really don’t like when people observe me. It’s frustrating. “Let me get this straight--” one more time he adjusted his position, now elbows against his knees as he leaned forward. “You work at K*S as one of their resident graphic designer and illustrator, but you prefer to work alone rather than work with a couple more artists?” his interrogation was spot on. I nodded again, trying to prove a point. He chuckled. I gave him a puzzled look, “Huh, you’re a weird one.” after a while his chuckle subsided and the stood up. Looking down on me, he gave me a smile and held out his right hand. I stood up and shook it. “Okay, Ms. Yanaihara. We will give you a month for the draft. And then we talk about the final output once it’s finished, okay?”

“Yes, Sir.” his hand went back to his side and I began packing my stuff. “I’ll leave you here for a while, and when you’re done packing. Meet me outside the office, okay?” I faced him again and gave a bow as a response. He smiled and trailed off. As the door closed shut, I slumped onto the chair. Man, we talked for almost 3 hours. He’s one intricate person, he may not look like it but he was dedicated to his job. That made me want to work harder on this project.

As I stepped out the meeting room, the same derangement of the office greeted me. With a bow, I thanked the guy who entertained me earlier. He gave me a thumbs up and a smile. I walked out the room and saw Jae Hoon. I bowed at him. He asked me if I was all set, I nodded. He led us to the elevator, pressing the number 4 as the metal doors closed.

I have no idea where we’re headed.

“Oh, we’re gonna meet the people you’re gonna be animating.” he found the confusion in my face and answered my unasked question. “Ah.” the project brief was all about animating a certain group for the fans to see. It sort of like a gift to them. The company said they would just send me the video of them dancing. I agreed since it was so much better than meeting them in person. But, here I am… headed towards the subjects.

We stopped in front of a huge picture of Michael Jackson pasted on the wall, huh. This is one artistic company. He turned around, facing me. “Fair warning, these boys can be really loud and well---” he scratched his nape and laughed. “They get shy all of a sudden so, I hope you understand.” I nodded. Ugh, this is gonna be a burden again. I hate meeting new people, especially when if they’re A LOT. Suddenly he turned around again and faced me. “How old are you?” a bit flustered by the sudden personal question, I gaped at him before composing myself and responding. “I’m 20.” his eyes widened. “You’re only 20!?” his mouth was now agape. I nodded. “Yes, I was born on 1999.” he gasped again.

“You look mature for your age, you even act mature.” not really knowing how to respond to his statement, I just said thanks, awkwardly. He smiled. “That’s a good thing, these boys are around your age---how are you 20 and working already, are you even a college graduate?” I felt a bit offended by him questioning my credentials, but I get where he was coming from. I graduated University at a very early age. “Yes, I graduated last September.” again he was surprised, he kept on rambling about how am I so good at my job with only just being here for 2 months. I just responded in short words. Tapping my feet impatiently against the marble floor. He finished ranting and is now about to open the door.

I don’t want to admit it but I was nervous, this happens when I’m about to see a lot of unfamiliar faces. The familiar loud music echoed around the room. With a glance, I noticed it was a dance practice room. Mirrors fogged up with sweat. “Boys.” covered by his big physique, I continued to hide behind him. Upon hearing his voice, the music stopped abruptly and I could hear pants and gasps. “Hello, Sir!” the loud unison of voices drummed against my ear. Oh crap, that’s a lot of boys right there. I moved aside, showing myself. My straight face unfazed by the familiar faces in front me. All of their eyes moved towards me, “This,” with a swift move they all looked at him. But one particular person continued to eye me from time to time. “Is the artist, who is gonna be making your promotional animation for the fans.” he continued to explain why I was there. “Jeongin-ah, pay attention please.” the one person who was unconsciously looking at me, bowed his head and apologized. One of the members patted his back. “Okay, so is everything clear now?” they all shouted again in unison. I flinched a bit but my stoic face remained the same.

“So, maybe let’s start by cleaning up a bit? This place… has a manly smell.” he chuckled. I could agree with that. And with the amount of sweat on the mirrors and the members, i could tell they were here for a while now. They’re flustered faces made me smile a bit. They panicked and raced around the room. I spoke up, catching both the attention of the 9 members and Jae Hoon. “It’s cool, I’m okay with it. Let’s just get it over with.” Jae Hoon smiled at me, “Okay, never mind.”

“But, Sir---”

“It’s fine. I have 4 brothers. I’m used to this smell, no worries.” I cut off one of them. He looked at me with a flustered face, our eyes met and he broke the contact within seconds. I moved towards them. “I guess I’ll be heading out. Are you okay walking out yourself, Ms. Yanaihara?” I faced him and nodded. He smiled, and bid me plus the boys goodbye. The members shouted again.

Door creaked closed, and I was alone in this room with 9 recognizable faces. There was an awkward amount of silence before I spoke up. “So, for now, I’m gonna be making character designs of yourself.” we all stood there, 9 pair of eyes glued to mine. “Um, can we sit down first?”

“O-oh. But the floor is a bit dirty---”

“It’s cool.” I shrugged and proceeded to sit down the wooden floor. All of them hesitated for a bit but eventually one by one they all sat down. I pulled out an A4 sized sketchbook from my backpack, flipping through the already crowded pages.

“Okay--” I looked up and all of them were still looking at me. I sighed. “Sorry, about my Korean. It’s not my first language--” two of the members looked at each other eagerly and then back at me. Yes, I know you both speak English.With the familiar heavy atmosphere, I licked my dry lips and spoke. “Let’s talk about the elephant in the room since that’s what you all notice,” all nine of them were taken aback, denials here and there. I held up my hand to shush then.

“It’s fine.” I looked at Jeongin. Our eyes met and his gaze faltered. I brought up my finger to my cheeks, pointing on each eye. “I have heterochromia, which means I have different colored eyes. They change colors from time to time also.” they all nodded in awe. I brought my hand back down and continued to flip through my sketchbook until a blank canvas appears. Okay, it’s time to explain. I really hate this.

“First off, what kind of style do you guys want? You can talk about it as a group.” they all murmured and talked to each other. My head scanned the whole room. This place, I have seen it a hundred times before. This same place where I laughed and got all excited about. Not in person, just through the screen of my computer. My eyes landed on the foggy part of the mirrors, there were doodles. I smiled at the sight. They still do it.

One particular writing piqued my interest. “You make Stray Kids Stay, wow.. I miss that.” unaware I said that aloud. The room went quiet. I looked at each one of them taking in all the familiar features I have yearned to see in person, I can’t help but give a genuine smile. “You guys really did became the next big thing.”

About a year ago, I have encountered the most amazing group. They were 9 dorks who are very talented. They produced their own music, write their own lyrics and even make their own choreography at such a young age. Seeing those smiles and laughter for about a year, I have learned to love them. I don’t like them just because of their visuals or just because they’re famous.

I fell in love with each one of them. I fell in love with their music the most. They made wonderful, encouraging music that helped not only me, but a lot of fans out there who struggled in life.

“You’re a fan?” Bangchan’s voice echoed inside my head. My heart drummed faster but I remained calm and smiled at him. “I was.” I closed my eyes and sighed with a smile, remembering all the memories I had with them through the small screen of my laptop and phone. “Alright. Let’s start?”

For the next 30 minutes, they tried their best to explain what they wanted. Chan and Felix also translated a few words I didn’t know. I wrote down all the concepts they wanted to try and told them to eliminate a few things they don’t like. Handing over my sketchbook, they all huddled in a small pile and talked amongst each other. My eyes looked at each one of them dearly. I was a fan, but I lost track with them after entering my last term in University. And well, I just completely forgotten about them.

After deliberating for a while, they handed me back the sketchpad and told the final concept they wanted. I nodded and started sketching. They waited. Glancing at everyone. “Minho, can you stand up?” he pointed at himself. I nodded and stood up first. He followed and awkwardly stood in the middle. “Just stay still, don’t---” I gripped his awkward shoulders. “Don’t tense up. Do it comfortably.” he nodded and loosened up. I picked up my sketchbook and pen and started drawing a him in different angles. The rest of the members stayed quiet beside us, gingerly observing me walking around Minho.

“Oh, my distinct features---” I stopped him mid sentence. “No need,” I gave him a smile, he blushed. “I know what they are.” and again the room went quiet. Only the scribbles of my pencil against the paper was heard. “You’re eyelashes are really long, and your nose shape is perfect.” my compliment made him blush more. The boys behind me started to tease him. We finished up after 2 hours. Each of the members getting more comfortable around me. This was actually the first time I talked a lot.

“Can you smile for me Jeongin?” he did, I smiled and closed my sketchbook. His puzzled look made all of us burst into laughter. “I just wanted to see your smile. It’s really different without the braces but, you’re still adorable.” he made an inaudible sound and went straight into Hyunjin’s arms. I chuckled.

I handed them the sketchbook so they could check the designs. They all gathered standing up. Exclamations here and there. I smiled and began packing the rest of my stuff. I sat down near the side, resting my back and head against the mirror. On the contrary of not liking being observed, I really like observing other people. Memorizing how they laugh, how they move their hands and all their mannerisms.

While the others scanned through my drawings, Bangchan approached me. I smiled at him, which earned me a smile in return. He plopped down beside me, shoulders touching. We remained there, watching his members laugh and have fun.

“You’re one lucky guy, Chris.” I said in English, the sudden name attack made his head snap towards me. I shifted my head to look at him, he turned red and hid his face on his hands. “What?” I chuckled. He whined and removed his hands before looking at me. “I’m not used to people calling me Chris.”

“But you are Chris, right?” he shuddered at the words. He bit his lips. “Fuck…” a curse left his mouth. I chuckled and punched his shoulder jokingly. The others started to notice us, so I stood up. But before leaving his side I said, “Am I not your baby girl? Christopher Bang.” winking at him, I went to the others and received back my sketchpad. Noticing Chan’s gaze burning in my back.