#based on a post that I once saw about Rose being so dense that he still considers him and Quartz to be friends even after they confess-

[pepsi-vent-inactive]

here *drops this and runs*

[taesramenhair]

Set Me Free [MYG]

The abbey has been a constant in Yoongi’s life: his home, his school, his workplace. Now it’s burning, pillaged by invaders - and it’s up to him to keep their relic safe. The strange man he meets at the high altar doesn’t seem to understand that, but he does understand staying out of harm's way.

word count: 5.7k // genre + rating: SFW (12)

warnings/tags etc: violence, injury, minor character death (unnamed characters), mention of corporal punishment, some Not Nice People, as you might have guessed - angst with a happy ending, monk!Yoongi (sort of), vague middle ages AU, religious imagery, religious references, mainly ft. Jimin but the others have a cameo at the end too. [This is my first fic so I'm not used to tagging - please, please tell me if I've missed something important!]

Masterlist

Yoongi never thought he’d be grateful for a childhood spent chasing chickens, but here he was. With the wind snarling around his reddened ears and loose pebbles rolling under his feet, he was immensely thankful that he’d always been given the outdoor duties. At the time, he’d hated it, of course, but it had built his stamina - and if there’s one thing you need when fleeing up a mountain, chased by murderous bandits, it’s the ability to run.

Not that he was going that fast anymore. The terrain was difficult, path narrow and winding, and the cut on his arm was distractingly painful. It wasn’t bleeding so much now, thankfully, but it throbbed with every beat of his worn-down sandals against the dusty rock. His one advantage over his pursuers was that he knew this path well and they didn’t. He had gained a lead on them in the twisting corridors of the abbey – his abbey, now nothing more than hollowed, blackened stone burning violently in the valley below – and left them scrabbling foolishly in the dense foliage at the base of the mountain. It wouldn’t be long before they made their way through, though, and he had to reach the top first. He had to make it to the altar.

A misjudged footfall coming around the last corner slid Yoongi into the floor, landing heavily on his left shoulder as the strap of his sandal broke apart. Every ache in his body rose now that he wasn’t moving, screaming up towards the bright midday sky even as he forced himself to let out nothing louder than a pained groan. He couldn’t let them know anything was wrong. Let them think he was safe. Let them think he was long gone.

Testing his shoulder with a gentle roll – ah, painful – the young acolyte turned onto his knees and rose shakily. The broken sandal was all but useless, barely staying on his foot as he stepped forward. This high on the mountain, though, the ground was harsh and stony, the only foliage being the flowering apple tree next to the altar Yoongi couldn’t yet see but knew was just over the next rise. He’d have to hobble to keep the shoe on but it was preferable to tearing the sole of his foot on jagged stones. If only he hadn’t given his best shoes as an offering, he thought bitterly – and then instantly chastised himself. The gods had ben pleased with that offering, had taken it quickly and sent plentiful rains in response. It had been a worthwhile sacrifice, even if he was now struggling to reach sanctuary.

A noise below told him the bandits had broken through the tree cover already. They were gaining on him. He hobbled faster.

No one had expected an attack that day. Yoongi had been by the stream when it started, bathing his battered hands in the cool waters, breathing in the dews of the spring day and hoping they would sweeten his tears.

(It had been his turn to watch the blessed fire, but he had been sick all week and the abbot had caught him sleeping at his post. The welts of his punishment would linger for a few days: they always did.)

Hearing the tower bells had pulled Yoongi from his mournful reverie – it was not yet dawn, and those bells should not have been ringing. Something was terribly wrong.

Cold grey stone was already dripping red warmth by the time Yoongi reached the doors to the place he had called home since his seventh winter. Prayerful silence had given way to terrible screams, like the great oaken entrance had buckled beneath the force of the invaders’ battering. Centuries of monastic tradition was no match for the terror of a freshly forged blade baptising itself in the blood of the aged brothers, it would seem.

He could have run there and then, abandoned it all to its inevitable oblivion and fled towards the slowly rising sun. There were things he had grown to value there, though, lessons that had been drummed into him by chant and fast and blood. To run with no attempt at saving the abbey’s great treasure would be an insult to the gods too grave to contemplate. Sure, he would survive – but it would not be a life worth having, cursed to his final breath.

So he had waded through the wails of his brothers, the dying agony of those who had raised and formed him, taking the hidden passages to reach the inner sanctum before the newcomers did. They seemed to plunder aimlessly, unaware that there was only one prize worth having within the abbey walls, more valuable than the golden triptychs or the silver-wrought chalices. For the blessed fire – the one Yoongi had been punished so harshly for failing to attend – burned to light the presence of a great relic: a priceless stone that betokened the favour of the gods. That favour had passed now from the vaulted corridors of the abbey it had settled on for centuries, that much was clear. Even so, as Yoongi crawled past the death-closed eyes of the kind, wizened man he had once playfully addressed as halabeoji, he knew the stone must be preserved and taken to the high altar until the gods chose to bestow it anew. If he could just get it there, he could beg their protection in return – he could beg preservation from the terrible fate that had fallen out around him.

Now, finally dragging his trembling limbs over the last mound, Yoongi saw the goal he had been fighting towards since daybreak. Half-shrouded in bruised blossoms from the apple tree stretching lazily by its side, the high altar basked in afternoon sunshine, dark stone glistening where droplets from the nearby waterfall had lost their way. He had seen it many times, in all weathers – sent far up the mountain in deepest winter to offer penance for a drifting mind; honoured to represent the community in late summer and give thanks for a bountiful harvest. Always the end of his journey and always a place of refuge. Looking at it, he could almost forget about the horrors he had seen. It was almost relaxing.

Only almost, though. Not only was he aware of the toll his journey had taken – not to mention the danger still snapping at his blistered heels – but when Yoongi looked at the altar today, he saw something he had never seen there before.

A young man – small, lithe, delicate – was sitting on the altar, back against the sacred tree. He was a vision in the dappled light, so beautiful next to Yoongi’s swollen eyes, bloodied robes and dusty feet. Looks were deceiving, though, and apparently Yoongi was to add another sacrilege to the list of crimes committed against everything he held dear. The man, damn him, was eating the offerings left upon the altar for the gods. Had he had more energy, Yoongi could have burst into tears at the sight.

“What are you doing?” he cried, voice cracking and distraught. “Get off! Go away! Those are offerings, we need them! I – please. I need the gods’ favour. Go away!” The boy did little more than blink at Yoongi and tilt his head slowly to the left. A child-like hand raised a flask of blessed water – blessed water – to full, pink lips and Yoongi choked on air, disbelieving.

“There are no gods here, silly.” A soft, high voice came from the young man, sure and unconcerned. “Only me.”

Angry tears did slip from Yoongi’s eyes then. How dare this – this boy say such things? Yoongi had not endured the destruction of his home for some spoiled brat to anger the gods and leave him defenceless and a failure. Marching towards the altar, he bowed quickly and muttered an apology to the tree before taking a firm grasp of the boy’s black hair and yanking him down unceremoniously, heedless of the responding cry.

“I am the last acolyte of the abbey and I will not have you defile this altar and the offerings left to our gods.” His speech would have more impact if he weren’t gasping through tears and physically shaking, but Yoongi was doing his best. “We have been beaten and burned and murdered today and I am here to return the stone of favour to the gods for safekeeping and beg their protection from the evil that has pursued me all day and you – how dare you treat this place with so little respect?” Wide eyes and a soft pout looked up at him from the ground, the boy not having moved from where Yoongi had thrown him. He realised that the ground was still harsh here and felt a little bad – even if he was a sacrilegious blasphemer, this boy seemed a couple of years younger than Yoongi and the fall must have hurt him. Still, there were more pressing matters at hand. Yoongi did his best to rearrange the remaining gifts on the altar (so few, the boy must taken so much of it, the gods would be displeased) and placed the stone carefully in the centre before dropping stiffly to his knees. Wiping his tears and bowing his head to the ground, he muttered out a series of chants and then sat back on his heels, chin lifted to the skies and streaming eyes closed against the light.

“Great gods above, hear my call,” he declared, loudly as his ragged throat allowed him. “We know not why you have withdrawn your blessing from us. We thank you for having granted it at all, for letting us live such charmed lives for you for many years. We return now your stone. Please retain your grace in it and bestow it anew upon others. Do not abandon us all, oh great ones. Hear me when I call to you, worthless as I am. Do not forget us all.” His voice faltered and Yoongi tipped his head forward again, barely managing a whisper. “I ask your protection. Please. I know I have not served you perfectly, but I have tried so hard. I wanted to please you. I want to deserve your favour. You’ve always answered me so graciously – and I know better servants have died horribly today, but please. I don’t want to die. Protect me.” The thunderous footsteps of the bandits started to reach his ears and Yoongi gasped, pressing his face desperately to the ground once more. A soft noise behind him reminded him he was not alone and he spoke again. “Protect us both.”

For a few moments there was silence, and then Yoongi heard the stones to his left shifting quickly, as though someone were running towards him. He tensed, still bowing before the altar and praying that somehow the gods would protect him. A pair of hands grabbed his upper arms and pulled, and he couldn’t help but let out a sob. He knew he had never deserved anything from the gods, but he had hoped so dearly that they would spare him.

“It’s just me, acolyte, get up.” The words filtered through his distress like thick cream through muslin, slow and awkward. He couldn’t quite grasp them. “We have to go, now.”

“Can’t,” he stuttered out, managing to open his eyes and twist away from the young man’s grip, crawling back towards the altar. “I have to be here. The gods –“

“The gods won’t help you.” Though his words were harsh, the man looked concerned, reaching a hand out towards Yoongi again imploringly. “Let me help you, please. Come with me. They’re close now: we have to go.” Yoongi knew he was telling the truth – he could hear voices as well as footsteps now, could almost hear the singing of the blades he knew the bandits were carrying. But he couldn’t leave the altar – could he? It had always been his safety and it was the last remains of his abbey – his faith. He had run this far for the gods. If he ran further, for himself, did that make him a coward? Would he have betrayed them all? Would he prove himself as unworthy as the abbot had always told him he was? Teary-eyed and shaking, he set his mouth and looked the young man right in the eye.

“Save yourself if you can. I cannot leave.” It had the desired effect. The man nodded curtly, stood and began to leave, pausing by the altar as he did so.

“Fine,” he called back. “But I’m taking the rest of this food with me. No point letting it go to waste. This stone is pretty, too. I don’t know about it being blessed or anything, but I think I’ll take it.” Sure enough, he picked it up, tossed it in the air and pocketed it with a stunning smile that all but closed his eyes. Then, he started simply sauntering away, all sense of urgency gone.

He’s baiting me, Yoongi thought. He hadn’t managed to convince him to leave on his own, so he was taking the stone like some sort of carrot, hoping Yoongi, like a donkey, would follow. Yoongi half wanted to be stubborn, to sit there and die like a fool just to prove that he had a stronger will than this brattish stranger presumed. The louder part of him, however, was relieved at having been given permission to abandon the altar, a reason beyond self-preservation to stand up and follow him to safety. He couldn’t leave the stone of favour in the hands of someone with so little respect that he would lean against a sacred tree and eat the gods’ offerings with his feet on their altar. Impossible. It was his sacred duty to stagger up and stumble after him, calling chastisements as loudly as he dared and trying to match pace when the stranger sped up, leading him around the corner from the altar to a hidden path he had never thought to look for.

The altar was at the top of the mountain path – Yoongi had never considered that there might be other paths down beyond it. It was the destination, the end of the line. Going further just wasn’t something he’d ever considered, and that this man was leading him like it was second nature was the last straw for him. Lost in a haze, he followed wordlessly, almost blindly, the ache of his arms and his legs and his feet whispering somewhere but barely decipherable through the thick fog of his mind. At some point they entered a dark tunnel and the young man took his hand gently, perhaps aware of how feeble Yoongi’s grip on awareness was. Between the soft touch and the pressing darkness around him, Yoongi let himself go.

Waking up again was a far less pleasant experience than drifting off had been. It wasn’t a slow rise to the surface, lazy and comfortable like waking to a summer dawn – it was a sudden dive from absolute nothingness into decided somethingness. All at once Yoongi was aware again of the stiffness in his calves and the ache of his arm; the throb of his head from a week of sickness, a lack of sleep and the dehydration of having cried his frustrations out on the mountaintop. The fog lifted and he sat up quickly, huffing softly through his nose as the movement made his stomach lurch and his vision swim. He could remember being annoyed at a bright smile, and fluffy, black hair disappearing into a tunnel – and the stone! Right, yes. Dangerous bandits, bratty stranger, following the stone. That’s what had happened.

“There’s some water next to you – you should drink it,” he heard the stranger say from somewhere off to his right. Yoongi glanced around him, twisting on the bed roll laid out in his corner of what seemed to be a small, wooden room. Sure enough, there was a whole pitcher of water beside him. After a few seconds of blinking at the floor failed to magic a cup into existence, Yoongi picked it up and hesitantly tilted it against his lips. The water was lukewarm and hardly counted as refreshing, but he hadn’t had anything to drink since the abbot had woken him before, well, everything and his throat was grateful to be soothed.

“What did you do with the stone?” Even after a few mouthfuls of water, his voice was deep and gruffer than he had meant it to be. The stranger just giggled and Yoongi managed to make out his shape in the low light, sitting against the opposite wall.

“Don’t worry, acolyte. It’s safe here. I’ll give it to you in the morning, if you like.” Yoongi grumbled and the stranger laughed again. “You know, you were cute when you were half asleep. All whiny, like a kitten.”

“I’m not a kitten.” (He had a vague notion that his mother used to call him that. He hadn’t seen her for years, not since she had given him away in the hope of pleasing the gods and bringing a good harvest. Maybe he had dreamed it up. He certainly hadn't had a nickname since joining the abbey.)

“Who are you, then?” The question took Yoongi by surprise and he cleared his throat as he shifted back a little, resting against the wall behind him and drawing his knees painfully up. From the feel of the fabric under his fingertips, he was still in his robes from earlier and whilst he was relieved that the stranger had not undressed him, he desperately wanted to be clean. He wondered whether there was any chance of getting a bath, just soaking in hot water and letting it steam away everything that had happened. Probably not.

“Yoongi,” he said shortly. “Who’re you?”

“My name’s Jimin. How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.” Yoongi didn’t like where this was going.

“Hyung!”

“No.” He thought he could see a flicker of a pout and was glad of the cover of darkness. Living around older monks meant he hadn’t really been exposed to much cuteness – he hadn’t been anyone’s hyung ever– so he didn’t think he’d be able to hold out against it. At least if he couldn’t see this Jimin’s face, the only thing he had to resist was the whining that started up immediately.

“I saved your life, let me call you hyung!”

“You desecrated my altar!”

“I told you, Yoongi-hyung, there are no gods here! If the altar’s not really sacred, how can I have desecrated it?” That stung worse than the other injuries vying for Yoongi’s attention. He had devoted his life to serving the gods. It was all he had known. He had put up with long nights and early mornings for years, allowed the other monks to literally beat him into shape, all in the hope that it would appease some deity with the power to improve people’s lives - and now this clueless boy wanted to tear it all into pieces.

“There are gods, Jimin-ssi. We have left them offerings for centuries, and they have always taken them and given what we asked for in return.” He thought he heard a snort, and it was his turn to pout.

“Like what, hyung? When have the gods taken something and given something in return? How would that even work?” Yoongi didn’t have to think.

“Last autumn. The rains were late so the farmers were worried the fruits wouldn’t ripen properly and they would have to feed their livestock from reserves, which might mean they would run out before the frosts ended. I’d been working on a new pair of sturdy boots all year because mine had fallen to pieces, but we needed an offering, so I brought them up to the altar and left them there. Two days later, the rains started, and the boots were gone. We gave the boots; they gave the rains.” He sounded smug. He knew he sounded smug, but he also knew he was right. Traditions existed for a reason, and the abbey existed because it worked. It helped. The monks prayed and trekked up the mountain to offer sacrifices because the gods listened to them and protected their people. Or at least, they used to.

“Oh.” There was the sound of shuffling across the room, and then a hiss as a flame was struck. Yoongi blinked blearily as Jimin lit a candle, picked something up from the floor and shuffled over, nearly tripping on the long, woven blanket he had wrapped around his narrow shoulders. “Um, Yoongi-ssi – those boots, they, um. Well. They didn’t look like this, did they?” Kneeling next to Yoongi’s bed roll, Jimin lifted the candle and proffered a muddy pair of boots with his other hand. Slightly crooked teeth worried his lip as he waited for the acolyte to respond. Yoongi took the boots reluctantly, fingering over the caked mud and peering closely. He couldn’t see much, in truth – and he had only ever felt his boots when they were brand new, unworn. His fingertips didn’t recognise these ones, leather both soft with wear and rugged from the elements. Guiding Jimin’s hand closer to gain more light, he turned them over and picked at the dirt dried into the arch.

“You’re terrible at looking after boots,” he muttered as a large clump came away in his hand, revealing the sole. Jimin didn’t respond. The last bit of mud fell to the floor and Yoongi coughed on a harsh sob. There, tucked next to the heel, was the mark Yoongi put on all his things.

“I’m so sorry,” Jimin whispered as Yoongi’s eyes drifted blankly to the wall beside him. “I didn’t realise you had offered them up. I always – ever since I was tiny, there have always been things there and we always took them, so I thought they were meant for us. I thought you all knew we were taking them. I thought you were looking after us.”

“You’ve been taking the offerings for years?” Maybe if he asked the question quietly enough, the answer would be different. It wasn’t.

“All my life. Yoongi-ssi, I’m so sorry. My parents showed me and when they were gone - I guess I didn't think about it. I didn’t know it meant anything until you shouted at me earlier, and then I thought you were just being… I don’t know. Sanctimonious?” Yoongi huffed, still not looking at the younger man.

“Big word.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry it wasn’t what you thought – but those offerings didn’t go to waste. We’d have died here without them.” A silence stretched tensely between them, Jimin left without words to explain himself and Yoongi winded by how abruptly his world was turning itself inside out. Apparently, it wasn’t enough that he had lost everything that had ever been familiar to him. He also had to have his faith shaken and his understanding of how the world worked ripped out from under him. There was only really one thing to do.

“I’m going to sleep,” he mumbled, curling up to face the wall even though it meant lying on his wrenched shoulder. Behind him, he heard Jimin place the candle on the ground and move the boots – his boots? Yoongi’s boots? it didn’t matter anymore – away.

“Hyung,” came the soft voice again as a small hand reached over his hunched shoulder, “here. I think you should keep this. We can talk again in the morning.” Firm fingers prised Yoongi’s hand away from his side and pressed something cool and round into his palm. The stone, he thought. There is still the stone. He fell asleep with it pressed against his chest, safe.

They didn’t speak the next day. In fact, Yoongi gave Jimin the silent treatment for three weeks, only staying with him because the heavens opened during the night and refused to close again for long enough to allow Yoongi to even hope to venture off the mountainside. He didn’t have anywhere to go in any case – and whilst he was furious with Jimin and completely lost without his routine and the guidance of the other monks, he knew being somewhere warm and dry, with a reliable source of food and someone to offer to massage his aching shoulder was better than dying in a ditch somewhere from stubbornness.

(He never accepted the massage offers, of course, but it felt nice to know that someone cared enough to ask.)

When the rains finally cleared, Yoongi had Jimin show him the way back up to the altar. The blossom was all gone now, flushed away by the rain, but the leaves were strong and the waterfall babbled happily. Yoongi didn’t think the tree would fruit this year, since the flowers hadn’t had time to set before the storms, but it still stood. The altar still stood. That was something.

Sitting on the edge of the mountain, he could see the charred ruins of his home below – joined now by more ruins to the west. Though they hadn’t found him, the group who had attacked the abbey had travelled back down the mountain and continued their rampage, working through the nearby villages and taking what they could. Bright sunshine was no remedy for such heaviness, and Yoongi felt his face crumple watching the birds fly down towards the blackened remains of thriving communities. Maybe Jimin was right and there never were gods – maybe it was better that way. To think that they had been abandoned to such death and ruin hurt more than believing they had never been blessed by anything more than good chance in the first place.

“Hey, hyung – look!” Jimin called excitedly from the waterfall, oblivious to the destruction right below him. Jimin, it turned out, had never really come down off the mountain. His parents had retreated to a small cabin in a hidden glade after a particularly nasty feud with a distant cousin, and he had been raised in near solitude. He knew about the villages, of course, but he had never been to one. Their loss was a sad idea to him, but no more than that. Flowering daisies were all it took to distract him, and he sought to do the same for Yoongi, even if he was ignored.

“Hey, Grumpy-hyung! I saved your life, you know, you can at least pretend to be interested when I try to show you the finer beauties of this world!” A thought struck Yoongi, finally back in the place where he had thought for certain his life would end. It hit him hard enough to make him gasp, head tilting up to the sky so quickly that Jimin forgot his flowers and came rushing to see what the matter was.

“You’re wrong!” he declared as soon as Jimin settled beside him, before the younger boy had even spoken. “You’re wrong.”

“Something tells me you’re not talking about daisies.”

“There are gods.” Yoongi brought his chin down again and looked at Jimin straight, eyes still red from his tears but perfectly sure. “You said there weren’t gods. There are.”

“Um. Ok.”

“There are. I asked them for their protection and they protected me.” Jimin’s brow crinkled a little and his eyes followed Yoongi’s movement as he stood and paced to the altar, one hand reaching out gently to touch the bark of the apple tree.

“I mean, not to be pedantic, but I protected you, hyung.”

“Sure.” Yoongi had never admitted that before, no matter how much Jimin wheedled for acknowledgment. He figured either this was a minor miracle or the pressure had finally cracked him. “I’ve been coming up here for fifteen years, Jimin-ah. All times of day, all seasons, all weathers. I’ve never seen you. None of us have. And then the one day I need someone to be here, when I’m being chased and I’m completely alone for the first time in my life - you’re just sitting on the altar." For the first time, Jimin saw Yoongi smile – a bright, full-toothed, gummy thing that lit up his eyes and transformed his face. “Like an offering. We gave them offerings, they gave them to you – and then they gave you back to me.” When Yoongi chuckled and leant against the tree, Jimin couldn’t help but giggle as well.

“I don’t think that’s compelling theology, hyung, but if it makes you happy, you go ahead and think that.”

“Just admit it, Jimin-ah. You’re wrong. The gods exist and they’re here and they care and we’re going to be alright. Just you wait.”

It had taken two years for the invaders to take everything they could from the land, and three more for life to start again once they abandoned it to decay. Now, though, from his rock on top of the mountain Yoongi could see white smoke rising from chimneys once more, could follow the path of trundling carts along the roads between each growing settlement. He had taken Jimin down there a few times, to see how the people lived and to do what he could to help them. Although the abbey and the men who had raised him were gone, the skills he had learned remained and he had a lot to offer. If in time it meant he could earn a little money and make life a bit easier, that was a blessing too.

Life with Jimin had taken some time to adjust to. He had considered leaving after his revelation, heading north in the hopes of finding a new monastery and enfolding himself once more in the familiarity of an ordered life. He'd got as far as packing a small bag of food and reclaiming his boots from Jimin. When he had put them on to leave, though, it had all felt wrong. Officially, the boots had worn to Jimin's feet already and Yoongi refused to make a long journey in uncomfortable shoes. Jimin had accepted that excuse without fuss, thrilled to keep his companion, but they both knew that wasn't the real reason. After all, Jimin had watched Yoongi stumble into a mountain clearing with a sword wound on his arm, a dislocated shoulder and a broken sandal all for the sake of a small stone. Uncomfortable boots were hardly going to stop him leaving if he really wanted to.

For whatever reason, he had elected to stay, to learn how to live with just one person for company and without orders and punishments and bells to mark his day. Chasing chickens was also useful for catching rabbits, it turned out, and he taught Jimin the skills he needed to find food now that there weren't regular offerings to pilfer. Jimin taught him to dance, and sang real songs to him. He taught him to laugh again, and if anyone were to suggest they be parted now, he would probably growl at them and pull his dongsaeng behind him for protection.

The altar would always be special to him. When the weather was good, Jimin would often find him up there long past dark, listening to the waterfall or leaning against the tree. One autumn, he even convinced him to sit up on the altar itself.

("Hyung," he had whined, "don't leave me up here alone. If the gods didn't like it, they would have struck me down years ago. Live a little."

"Brat," Yoongi had muttered in reply, hiding his smile even as he climbed up onto the stone. Since he was yet to be blasted to smithereens, he figured he was alright to keep doing it.)

It was there that he was sat the day the monks returned to the mountain. The afternoon sunshine was lazy, winding its way through the apple tree's branches and kissing its growing fruit softly. Yoongi had brought a cushion and was leaned back against the tree trunk, legs stretched out across the altar and mind drifting when an outraged shout made him open one eye and smirk.

"Yah!" a tall stranger exclaimed, pulling his robes up with one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other as he strode purposefully towards Yoongi. "Get off of there! Get down! That's a sacred altar!" Behind him was a group of four men, two looking nervous and carrying large baskets of food and one cradling a ceramic pot like it was glass while the last glared at him. Yoongi thought the glare might have something to do with the fact that the pot was missing one handle - which he located in the glarer's hand. Good to know every monastery had its own god of destruction.

"I take it you are the monks in charge of rebuilding the abbey?" Yoongi drawled, crossing his feet, completely unbothered by the new arrivals. Their leader halted in his striding, pulling his head back slightly in confusion.

"Uh - yes. That's us." One of the food bearers turned to the other with wide eyes, but received no more than a shrug in response. They looked very young - Yoongi hoped they were close. He thought he saw the one holding a pot begin to say 'hyung' and stop sheepishly when his hyung's heart-shaped mouth frowned even harder. Cute.

"Excellent." Hopping off the altar, Yoongi pulled a string from around his neck and took the stranger's hand. Unfurling crooked fingers, he placed the object in his palm and patted his shoulder familiarly, smiling at the gawk he got in return. "You'll need this, then. I've had it these past five years and I've been more blessed than I ever thought I would be. Guard it well, brother." He turned to walk away as the leader looked behind him, proffering the stone to one of his followers and saying, "Namjoon-ah, is this -" The answering gasp suggested they knew exactly what the stone meant.

"Oh, by the way," he called back at the corner where the path down to his and Jimin's cottage started. "If you ever need anything, just come here and leave a note. My friend and I will be happy to help. You never walk alone." With a soft smile, he disappeared around down the mountain and left them to their offerings.

(And if Jimin bounced home that evening with fine wine in a pot with a broken handle - well, Yoongi wouldn't be surprised.)

[twilightprince101]

A Tale of Scouts - The Dimensional Drifters

I decided to write a fic for my Dimensional Drifters AU! This can serve as a way to let newcomers know what exactly this AU is all about, but also was just really fun and self indulgent for me to write! It was fun as hell imagining how the different characters interact and banter with each other!

This fic was based off a previous post I made for this AU detailing what the different “roles” of everyone would be, this story centering around the scouts/supply runners. If you have no idea what The Dimensional Drifters, check out the “Dimensional Drifters” tag on my blog or click here to check out the carrd detailing my self ship AU’s!

With that out of the way, I hope y’all enjoy!

Far beyond the Earth that so many have come to know, there is a sea of alternate worlds. Some are akin to our own, sharing similarities in their people and places. Others are a far cry from the mundane, revealing what the world would come to if humanity had never existed. There are worlds that connect to other universes, having their culture carry on through literature, while others are doomed to isolation, forever remaining out of touch with the rest of its ocean. Few worlds contain unfathomable creations that no mortal mind can comprehend. Other worlds can just be a chair in a room.

In one of these worlds, sentient life had never been created. No culture, no humans, no form of sapience whatsoever. In their absence, competition for nutrients was nonexistent, allowing organic life to thrive like never before. Trees that began as young saplings now loomed high above the clouds that once hung over them. Plants intermingled with each other freely and developed hybrids that would be the paradise of gardeners and botanists everywhere. But in this endless forest lies a special type of fruit that grants whoever takes a bite hundreds of centuries worth of flavor (if they’ll forgive the migraines that comes from them).

These fruits -and the favors that come with them- are why four sunset toting scouts are braving the dense thickets of trees once more.

“Come on M.T., better hurry up or else I’ll beat you theeerreeee~”

A purple dragon teased behind him as he soars through the woods, weaving in and around the trees and letting wind graze past his scales. To give his opponent a fighting chance to catch up, the drake bucked up his horns and released a gust from his golden wings, looping around a branch overhead. Although in the past he had trouble with flying on his own, after getting so much training in these different adventures it came as natural as breathing. Checking if his fellow racer had managed to catch up the dragon peered over the sunset fabric tied around his tail, spotting the white blob of fur that was only a short hop behind.

“Oh yeah?! We’ll see about that Spyro!!”

Two iron wires shot out from handheld blasters, embedding themselves in a branch overhead. With a click from the triggers the rope began to zip back into its holster, pulling its wielder upwards along with them. As the Moomin soared over the branch he gave both hooks a yank to pull them from the wood, making sure his trajectory was right as he repositioned himself to fire the next shot. With another blast and pull, Moomintroll was next to and keeping pace with his racing rival, his multicolor neckerchief flapping in the wind. 

“Don’t get so cocky just because you have that gear on.” Spyro dipped down to avoid an incoming branch. “Back home I could outrace anything! Dinosaurs, UFO’s, even some of my own elders couldn’t keep up!” 

“Oh yeah?” The Moomin shot another hook above and yanked hard, his tail grazing the hardwood before momentum carried him back down. “Well I may not be able to fly like you, but there’s one thing I have you don’t!”

“Really? And just what might that be then?” 

With a toothy grin the grappler shot another target overhead, retracting the wire once more to zip over top. Only this time as he ascended, he clenched his toes and activated the triggers in his boots. In the blink of an eye an aqua aura expands from his boots and outlines his body like a glaze. With this new glow, instead of hopping over the next branch, Moomintroll hurdles over it and continues to soar upwards, the laws of physics no longer applying to him.

“VICTORY OVER GRAVITY!!!”

The dragon couldn’t help but laugh along with his fellow scout as he flew higher and higher. It was certainly true, he had him beat in that regard. The gear he requested from Lindar and Hat Kid work amazingly together, especially in Moomintroll’s hands. Spyro could remember overhearing him asking the inventors for the gear, wanting to find ways to keep up with everything else. It’s hard to believe now that the kid he used to constantly protect was able to keep pace with him now. All that practice he’s done has really paid off.

“Keep your eyes on the prize Moomintroll!”

From the branches to the two’s right, a small black and white blur bounced from branch to branch. With each step he took his large eyes peered ahead to calculate the next three, blue eyes scanning every possible route forward. As the blur approached a large gap between two branches, he reached into one of his several pouches and pulled out a smoke bomb, slamming it against the tree as he soared, the small explosion propelling him just the right distance to make it to the other side. Even though his two partners could soar through the air, his prior training as a Phantom Thief allowed him to match their speed just from natural ability alone. Although normally it would be hard to spot him, the twilight bandana around his neck helped make the job easier.

“It may seem fun but this forest is dense. Think of this like driving a car, if you don’t keep your eyes on the road you’ll slam into a tree!” The cat said, only sparing split second glances away from the hurdles ahead.

“Morgana, M.T.’s never driven a car. Forest world, remember?” The dragon couldn’t help himself from spitting out a bit of snark.

“W-well, then,” despite his continued proficiency bounding forward, the cat fumbled for a recovery, “riding a bike then! Or sledding!”

“C’mon, lighten up a bit! This is the first time he can let loose like this while on a mission, plus you’ve practically been working him to the bone with those lessons. Let him have some fun!” 

“We both know this isn’t a place where you can let loose Spyro.” one of the weaker branches snapped as the paws left its surface, sinking into the blanket of clouds without any audible sound. “One wrong step and he’ll become a pancake down on the forest floor!”

“It’s okay teach, I think I got the hang of this!” The phantom thief’s view of the purple drake was obscured by snow white fluff as Moomintroll bounded alongside him with the glow still surrounding his form and only taking occasional glances down to his mentor. “I’m doing everything you said. Arms to the sides, knees tucked in and all that stuff!”

“You forgot ‘Always on the lookout.’” Both teacher and student kicked off the side of a towering birch, both giving stylish and acceptable somersaults in the air before landing on the next branch. “This is like a test run before we have you come with us to more dangerous worlds, if we were somewhere like the deep sea woods doing this you’d fly right into the mouth of a giant antler-fish! You need to have situational awareness whenever supply running in places like these.”

“But we’re not, right? We know that there isn’t anything here, just plants! This gives me the perfect opportunity to get used to these in the field! Here, let me show you something I’ve been working on, you’ll love this! It’s really good to get more speed, but also a bit stylish, just like how you do it!” 

With those last few words both grappling hooks were upholstered and the blue glow around Moomintroll’s form faded. Before Morgana could even get a word out he kicked away from their shared path and winked to him, then turned his attention to the path ahead. For a few seconds the Moomin just fell, descending closer to the coating of fluff as his eyes scanned ahead. Despite knowing just how dangerous the scout was doing, Morgana and Spyro couldn’t help but just watch, paw lingering over a pouch and body positioned to take a dive at a moment’s notice.

Then in a blink of an eye Moomintroll spotted it, the perfect opening. A single branch that had not a single branch below it. It was time for some fun.

The snow-furred explorer shot another two blasts from his grappling hooks, disabling the boots and letting gravity swing him under the branches like a pendulum. Wind howled in his ears and his scarf flew like a flag in a hurricane. As he reached the swing’s trough and began to rise again, he pulled the triggers on both the hooks and boots, enveloping himself in blue light once more as he rose, the speed from his fall being nothing compared to now. With a leg kick and hard pull both hooks were released and the momentum from the swing sent him rocketing ahead of the entire pack, all three sets of eyes directed on him. One impressed, one nervous, one amused. 

“WAAAAAHOOOOOO!!!” 

But in his exhilaration, he failed to notice the oak tree branch that he was hurtling towards.

“Moomintroll, watch out!!” Morgana dug into his pouch and pulled out a grappling hook of his own, preparing to fire it at the living projectile before it struck its target. But with how far ahead he was and the speed he was travelling, it would be a one in a million shot-

“Don’t worry your little paws off, I got this!”

A flash of green and black energy shot past the phantom thief, barely missing one of his whiskers and throwing off his rhythm leading him to tumble a bit on the branch as he landed. The shot of raw chi flew faster than a bullet and sliced through the tree’s body like a buzz saw, cleaving it perfectly in two. Gravity did its work quickly and the oak toppled to the side, falling beneath the clouds and down to the depths of the forest below.

But even though the tree was gone, the suddenness and shock caused Moomintroll to lose his rhythm.

“WoahwoahwoAHWOAH!!” M.T. waved his arms and kicked his legs in an attempt to reposition himself. In his panic the triggers for the boots were released and the aura vanished. Reality grabbed the Moomin’s tail and yanked down hard. He still had a hold of the grappling hooks but with how much he was flailing his head spun along with the rest of him. Even if he reactivated the boots he would keep the momentum and crash course through the clouds and down to the ground to become a Moomin panini. 

Working fast, Spyro folded his wings inward and dove down beneath his fuzzy friend. With his superior flying skills and weight  he managed to dive faster than Moomin flailed, catching him on his back with a huff. He was normally used to lighter people riding his back like the kids, in all of the excitement he forgot that this is his friend’s natural weight. M.T. didn’t take up much space on his back at least, with the drake being about the size of a horse. 

“You okay back there bud?” Spyro kept his eyes forward to ensure they didn’t make the same mistake twice. It took a moment for the freefaller to realize he wasn’t doing so. When the dragon didn’t get a response, he made sure his flight path was clear and took a peek behind him.

Moomintroll was unharmed, no problem there. Instead of terror or injury, the mystified teen was staring down into the clouds that grazed his feet. His eyes were filled with galaxies as the nature of the situation dawned on him. He was riding above the clouds on a dragon. An actual real life dragon! This was something he had never even dreamed of doing back home before! Holstering his blasters, he reached down and let his hand comb through the fluff. Water droplets collected on his hands as the white fingers combed through the mist. The two could smell the water in the air. Without saying a word Moomintroll looked at his friend with a grin so innocent and full of childlike wonder it would rival Mustache Girl’s first flight.

The dragon just snorted in return, returning his gaze to their upcoming destination.

“Heads up now and buckle up, we’re going in for a landing!” White fuzzy hands gently wrapped around Spyro’s shoulders as he tilted to the side and let his wings carry the two down to their landing pad: a wide oak treetop decorated in mounds. Although it didn’t seem like much, this little base was their home away from home. 

After a slow but steady descent, the two touched down on the bark of their base. Unfortunately before Moomintroll could even get off of his friend he was sniped with a reprimand.

“What did I tell you about being careful?!” With one more smoke bomb propelled launch, Morgana touched down onto their home base right in front of the dragon and Moomin. His eyebrows seemingly spiked downwards from the force of the landing.

 “I know this may be fun and all, but you need to keep a grip in these situations! If Spyro hadn’t caught you, you would have been plummeting all the way down to the bottom of these trees, and we all know how big of a fall that is!!” Morgana’s tail is puffed and pointing straight up as he scolds his student. 

“S-sorry sir!” Moomintroll instinctively bowed down to his mentor, meeting him at eye level. “T-this has just been the most exciting thing I’ve done! I’ve never been able to keep up with you all, but with these,” he gestures to the boots and grappling guns, “I’m able to stay beside you all and not slow you down!!”

“But still, you could have been seriously hurt! Lindar and Hat Kid made those so you could keep up, not to play around! If you’re going to study under me for phantom thief training, you need to understand that-”

“Aw, c’mon teach, lighten up on the kid will ya?”

A teasing voice from the shadows interrupts Morgana, echoing between the oaks. From one of the higher treetops a slim, feline figure overlooks the three while leaning against the trunk without a care in the world. His hazelnut fur would’ve made him hard to spot if it weren’t for his black and red garb and glowing green eyes. The metal clanked against his body as he shifted, his sunset cloth (wrapped around his shoulder like a bangle) sticking out like a sore thumb.

“You heard him good, right? This is the first time he can run with the big shots instead of hanging back doing paperwork. He’s been looking forward to this forever and was doing well too, what’s wrong with a little slip up?

“Ugh, of course he butts into it.” The small thief groans, not even bothering to look in his direction and wishing he could go back to ten seconds ago when he forgot he existed. Both Moomintroll and Spyro spot him but sport polar opposite  reactions. Moomintroll waves up at the figure without a hint of wavering.

“Shu Chi, come on down! We’re gonna take a break before getting more of those fruit things!” The clink of yaoguai armor could be heard.

“Naaaah, I think I’m good up here. Might be good to keep lookout, ya know?”

“There’s nothing in this forest, we’ve already established that a while ago!” Spyro’s tail flicks down and knocks on the ground, creating audible thumps that mix with his yells.

“Well you never know unless you know what you know, ya know? There’s no way we know everything about this world, there might be, oh I dunno, giant woodpeckers to go along with these giant trees! Or maybe even giant beavers that’ll chow us up along with the wood!” 

“I think you mean termites-”

“My point still stands!” The yaoguai leans his back against the branch, holding two fingers up to his temple as if he’s making a great deduction. “Might be good for someone to keep an eye out, plus it’s plenty comfy up here! By far one of the best trees I’ve rested in.”

The thief and dragon groan, already fed up with his shenanigans. They’ve been through this routine plenty of times before, they know better than to try and pester him further. Moomintroll, though, does not. Pulling off a backpack he’s kept on him, he takes out a small tupperware filled with a few cubes of yellow, flakey, doughy delight.

“I brought some of Mama’s cornbread if you want some!!”

The spirit’s ears perk up upon hearing the word cornbread, peeking down at the small container. His green eyes stare down at the yellow cubes as he stands perfectly still. When a fanged grin shines from the darkness Shu Chi springs into action, leaping off the edge of the treetop and digging his claws into the bark, slowing his descent while spiraling around the trunk. When he reaches the same level as the rest of his fellow scouts, his entire body glows jade green and he springs from the tree like a baseball pitching machine shooting out a green christmas light. Making sure to do a few flips as he falls, the leopard cat slams down into the tree in a battle-ready crouch. 

“We get it, you like to show off.” Spyro rolls his eyes as the glowing light dispels from the yaoguai’s body.

Moomintroll opens up the tupperware for the cornbread and holds it up to the leopard cat who happily reaches in to pull out a slice and take a bite. Shu Chi’s eyebrows slope upward after chewing for a moment, unable to help himself from letting out a “Mmm!” from the taste.

“Yor mofor,” Shu Chi swallows a bite and points down at the Moomin, “makes the best cornbread.”

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Within a handful of minutes the four scouts had settled into their camp away from camp. It wasn’t much overall, only a few chairs surrounding a mound protruding from the tree that acted like a table. Moomintroll went around and passed out the snacks he had packed for everyone, making sure to include a slice of cornbread. He decided to save his own for later though, as a Moomin he didn’t need to eat as often as everyone else.

Shu Chi looked over the edge to do lookout as he said. Whatever it was he was looking out for he didn’t know. While hearing a bit of rustling he took a peek behind him to see what everyone else was up to. Morgana and Moomintroll were making their way over to the mound while pulling rolled up parchments from their bag. Spyro on the other hand gladly munched on a bit of steak while stretching his wings, arching his back like a cat about to pounce. Strategy wasn’t exactly his forte, even back in his own world, so he took the moment to relax.

When the dragon noticed the actual cat eyeing him down, he stood upright and returned his gaze with the same amount of wariness. Neither were exactly sure what they were waiting for, scanning for any move they could make until they couldn’t take anymore. Flicking his head up Spyro tossed the last bit of steak into his mouth and chomped down, not once breaking eye contact. Shu Chi turned back around and took a bite of his sandwich, returning his gaze downwards. The arm that bore his multicolor bandle felt a little tingly so he loosened the fabric a tad.

“Alright, so let’s map out our route.” Morgana spoke between bites of fatty tuna, standing up onto one of the chairs. Moomin nodded, pulling out a rolled up map from his backpack and spreading it out over the mound. The parchment held several crude drawings of trees surrounding a small multicolor circle-their entry point. The drawings seemed intricate at first, meticulous in detail, but the farther away they got from the portal the more messy they became. The outer layer is just a green circle scribbled with big green crayon and the words “IT’S ALL JUST TREES!!!”

“The last few times we’ve been here we’ve had to look for specific trees to get the miracle fruits.” The mapper pulled out a red crayon from his bag (it was the only thing Hat Kid gave him with the map) and pointed to a large pine tree that most likely was drawn in five seconds. “This one right here has been our main supply, but considering we’re getting enough for everyone, it won’t be enough.”

“But we know that there are other trees that have this fruit. The first time we came here and explored the ground level, there were some rotten fruits at the base of trees right by the portal.” Morgana circled around the portal with his paw. “But even though those fruits were there, we haven’t been able to get anything from that tree every time we looked.”

“It could just be because the tree has grown too old. Compared to the rest of them, the bark seemed pretty faded.”

“That doesn’t help us though. What we need is to find trees that are young enough to have ripe fruit.” Morgana pulled away from the map to munch thoughtfully on his snack, hoping that it could stimulate his brain. “Mmm… dogh yogh remumbuh wha thuh othah treesh wahr?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, hang on a second.” The cow/hippo hybrid put crayon to paper, taking a moment to think before marking off different trees with a tick mark. When finished the two stepped back, hoping to find some sort of pattern. There were only about eight tick marks on the entire map of the known forest, all dispersed seemingly randomly. Some trees didn’t have fruit anymore, some they have picked once or twice, but all of them combined wouldn’t give them enough for everyone, not even including the timeframe it would take to reach them all.

“Well we can rule out the trees all spreading out from one source.” Mona sighed in frustration and scratched a bit behind his ear. Moomintroll stared speculatively at the map trying to recall any other instances they had found a miracle fruit. Most they found on the ground was on the verge of decomposing if they weren’t already splattered from the fall. Meanwhile the ones they found on the trees were hidden within the leaves, barely visible to the naked eye. If they wanted to make dinner by tonight, they would need to know which trees to hit and only go for those ones.

“How’s it going over here fellas?”

Both Moomintroll and Morgana jump back a bit from the sudden voice right over their shoulders. Morgana once again groaned at the sight of Yan Shu Chi, leaning on one foot with his elbows stretching above his head. Spyro peeked out from behind him, lowered in a preparatory stance just in case he tried anything funny.

“We’re trying to figure out where we should look for miracle fruits next, Leopard.” Mona spits out the name as if it was a cherry pit. The cat seems unphased, stretching a bit more with his eyes closed. “Aren’t you supposed to be keeping watch like you said you would?”

“Meh, I think you guys might’ve been right, there probably isn’t anything here we need to worry about. Besides…” he winks open an eye down to the Phantom Thief. “From the sound of it you need a bit of help over here, kitten~”

“I am NOT a CAT!!!” Morgana hisses and nearly jumps a foot in the air at Shu Chi, barely even trying to hold back a chuckle at the reaction. “We have been over this SEVERAL TIMES!!! I may look like a cat, but I’m far from a hairball spitting animal like you!”

“Aw come on now boss, you really playing this game again?” Shu Chi itches the bottom of his nose with a finger, still looking down at the scout with only one eye. “Look, I’m just sayin’ there’s no harm in just admitting it.”

“I’ll NEVER admit it!!” Mona hisses once more, catching himself on the end. “B-because there’s nothing TO admit!!!”

“Really doing this now, huh? Here, I’ll spell it out for ya.” The yaoguai approaches the cat once more, lowering his arms and reaching down to the phantom thief.

“We both have pointy ears…” Shu Chi tugs a bit at Morgana’s ears, making him let out a little Mrah!!! While trying to bat his hand away.

“We both have claws…” He pinches Mona’s tiny hands, using a paw to tap on said claws that were peeking through his white fur.

“We both have fluffy tails…” Mona jumps a bit when he feels Shu Chi’s tail patting and lifting up his own.

“And of course, we both irresistibly cute~” Shu Chi holds his chin aloft with his fingers underneath, sticking out his tongue a bit and winking to further prove his point. 

“Oh actually, wait a minute… That only really applies to me…” False realization takes over his expression as he taps his chin, then snapping his fingers with a playful glance back down. “Maybe you’re not a cat after all! My bad!”

“HEY!!!” Morgana just jumps even higher in the air with his tail erect like a pole, hissing at the audacity of his fellow scout. The leopard cat doesn’t even try to hide his chortling laughter, successfully pissing off the little cat once more. Moomintroll and Spyro both give each other a glance, one of unease and one of annoyance. They were getting nowhere fast.

“Well are you going to help or not then, mister cat?” Spyro knocked the back of his tail onto the yaoguai’s back, knocking him out of his chortling spree. Waving off his mischief and Mona’s attitude as if it were nothing, Shu Chi mutters “fine, fine mr buzzkill…” and peers over the map. As Morgana’s fur smoothes back down the grin across Shu Chi’s face fades away along with it, his expression turning inquisitive and brows furrowing rigorously. Both paws spread out the drawing as he hunches over to get a closer look.

“Oh, did you figure something out Shu Chi?” Moomintroll unclenches the crayon from his teeth, wiping away a few bits of red wax from his mouth. The yaoguai points a claw at one of the tick marks closest to their current location where the drawings still have a hint of effort.

“This tree right here. Isn’t it that one right over there?” His brown and white tail points off into the distance. After going through the same routine Moomintroll nods. The three could see the wheels turning in the leopard cat’s head, claw tapping on the wood as he stared at the bark. It was only when the tapping could be mistaken for a tap dance troupe that it ceased and his head jerked up. He spun back to the map and snatched it up and paced along the perimeter of the base with his face buried in the parchment of crayon and marker.

“Well? Don’t keep us in suspense, tell us!” Morgana and Moomintroll followed close behind but their ally didn’t give a response, only muttering to himself and pointing in different directions. After walking a third of the treetop’s rim, Shu Chi stops again and looks off into the distance with a squint, blinking a few times to be sure.

“Hey purple pal, c’mere for a sec.” Shu Chi motions the dragon over with a wave of his fingers.

“My name is Spyro.”

“Yeah yeah whatever you say Silo. Can you do me a favor and check out that tree over there?” He lowered down to the dragon’s eye level and pointed off into the distance.

“Umm…. the big tree or the big tree?” 

“The big tree. As in,” Shu Chi pressed the dragon’s cheek to his, pointing with a claw directly to where he looked so there would be no mistake. “The tree waaaaaaayyyy back there with a broken branch a little lower towards the clouds.” 

Although it took a moment the dragon found the broken branch in question. It must have been over fifty meters away, even Spyro was surprised he was able to spot it.

“Uh huh…” The dragon nudged the cat with his horns to shove him away. “And why exactly should I do that?” 

Shu Chi, brimming with confidence, looks down to the dragon with eyebrows raised and a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Humor me.”

Both exchange cold stares with the other. The dragon is well aware of the mischief that the yaoguai brings, he’s seen plenty of it from how much he lies back at camp. A stolen hat from Moominpappa, a few swapped plates in the dining hall; nothing explicitly harmful, but enough to get himself on enough nerves he could make a harp out of them all. For all he knows this could be another elaborate prank, planting something in the tree to get a reaction out of him. But despite all the tail knocks and suspecting glares, Shu Chi’s expression never once changes, unwavering even in the face of a dragon.

After an overexaggerated eye roll and sigh, Spyro spread his wings, hunched down, then let the wind cary his wings as he flew into the distance to follow his ally’s request.

The phantom thief and Moomin rush to where he lifted off to watch as he flies up and away into one of the tree’s leaves. Although initially hesitant about Spyro following the advice of somebody who mocked him moments before, the anticipation began to well up within Morgana right alongside his student. Meanwhile the yaoguai waltzes up behind them, double checking the map to make sure he’s got it right. It was taking a few seconds longer than he expected. Maybe he pointed to the wrong tree? But after his ears catch a far off gasp a wide, toothy grin breaks out across his face.

“JACKPOT!!!”

An explosion of leaves bursts from the distant blur of green vanishing to show a blur of purple and gold. The dragon is brimming with enthusiasm and vitality compared to when he took Shu Chi’s request, his flight path becoming much more wild and varied than his previous straightforward line. He rolled, flipped and spun more than his first ever flight session. Moomintroll and Morgana followed him around the tree as he took a victory lap, all the while Shu Chi rolled up the crayon map and held it on his shoulder like a baseball star. 

The reason for such a sudden boost in enthusiasm was clear: in each claw, wrapped in his tail and even perched in his maw was a plump, bright orange, football sized fruit. 

After letting go of the edible ambrosia and piling them up, the dragon slammed down so hard that cracks shot out from his landing pad. All three of the starstruck scouts circled around the small treasure trove of spice fruit, marvelling at the horde their friend had brought in.

“There’s a whole bunch of them in there!!! I just grabbed as many as I could, but there must still be around ten of them!” Spyro circled the small pile like a dragon examining its treasure horde, marvelling at its beauty.

“Th-this is amazing!! We’ve only been able to find one or two every time we’ve searched, with this much alone we could get enough for TWO feasts!!!” The small not-a-cat couldn’t control how much his tail was wagging, already salivating at the thought of being able to eat so much.

“Well, minus one.” The leopard cat bent over and picked up one of the five orange footballs, examining four little holes on opposite sides. Spyro wiped away a bit of orange juice from his cheek.

Shu Chi tosses the fruit over his shoulder, not bothering to eat anything that already had teeth sinked into it.

“Thankfully, we should be able to get plenty more where that came from. If we just pick the rest from the tree over there, we’ll be set for the night! Maybe even have a few extra servings cooked up for us as well. I don’t know about you all, but I’d gladly eat an entire pan of that cornbread!” The cat stroked the fur on his chin, dreaming of the mountains of golden, flakey delights he’d get as a reward back home. Moomintroll made a mental note to tell Mama when he got back home as he approached.

“Shu Chi this is amazing!! How did you know so many were in that tree?!” The Moomin bounced on the balls of his feet in front of the yaoguai, eager to know his secrets. 

“Hm? Oh, well I didn’t know that this many would be in there, but... “ His head jerked a bit upwards when he spoke-most likely being knocked out of his flakey fantasies-but the spirit gladly smirked and unfurled the map, pointing to the center where actual effort can be seen.

“You see how all these trees here actually have detail? Now, do you see this one here with a few more branches at the bottom than the rest?” A claw points to the single center tree with a tick mark. “Even though the rest after this circle decreases in quality, those kids still went through the effort of drawing every little detail for this group. And as luck would have it,” he points to where Spyro found his treasure trove of miracle fruit, right around where it begins to dip into the layer of clouds, “that one over there has a fair bit of extra stumps on the side, wouldn’t you say?”

The dragon, Moomin and thief all followed Shu Chi’s claw to the jackpot tree once more. It took time for their eyes to adjust, but sure enough there were traces of branches near the base of the clouds. It was too much of a coincidence to be a prank he set up.

“So this whole time… we had it all wrong! There wasn’t any sort of pattern or discoloration, it was just just how many branches there were!!” A small paw paps onto Mona’s head, the realization hitting it harder than an electrified punch from Likulau.

“Yup! That’s right, I managed to figure out something that you didn’t knooowww~” A larger paw paps onto Mona’s head, rubbing the fur hard like an oversized noogie and ruffling it all up, only earning Shu Chi more hisses and growls. “I guess that means the student has become the master, yes? Gotta say, for someone so small I’m worried about you becoming a bit senile.”

“It was only a minor slip up!” Morgana batted away the giant paw, smoothing down the top of his head. “With what little resources we have, it’s only natural we couldn’t figure it out right away.”

“Aw come on now, there’s no shame in admitting you couldn’t do it. I mean if you really are getting too old for this job I can happily take over for you, no questions asked. Wouldn’t it be great to retire on a nice, warm beach somewhere after all your one years of work with us?”

“Oh be quiet you, you’ve been here less time than I have and a year is barely even that long!” 

Moomintroll looked back and forth between the two as their tones increased with intensity, thoping he didn’t have to step in. Shu Chi had caused more than his fair share of mischief in the past, but the Scouts had this chaos injected into their lives via daily doses, a full 50 CC’s of mischief and teasing every day. After nearly a year in the group, the Moomin has gained the title of peacemaker by necessity. 

Spyro could see the anxiety welling up in his friend. Already antsy, he stepped forward, raising his tail up like a teacher and their ruler.

“For the last time! I’m not OLD, I’m not SENILE, and I’m NOT A CAT!!”

“You sure you don’t wanna take me up on that offer? I have plenty of things I could teach the kid you know. Maybe…” A flash of a toothy smile. “Felinology?”

“Why you lITTLE-”

“Would you two stop bickering already?”

As a paw reached into one of Mona’s tool pouches and swirling energy manifested around Shu Chi’s arm, the golden tip of Spyro’s tail slapped the yaoguai’s hand away like a nunchuck attached to a whip. With a yelp of pain the yaoguai backed off while flicking his hand back and forth to soothe the pain. 

“S-spyro-”

“Don’t worry M.T., I’ll handle it.” Although it was meant to be reassuring, Spyro’s glance and nod back didn’t help suppress the feeling in his friend’s stomach.

“Aw c’mon Gyro, I was only ki-”

“Shut your trap already!”

Shu Chi shut his trap already.

“We just found the motherload of spice fruits and know where to look for even more! Both of you remember the first time we ate this stuff, how we almost spent an hour eating these in just tiny bites, can you imagine eating an entire all-you-can-eat buffet with these as the main dish?! If we get all of them from that tree we could be back in an hour! So quit the teasing and arguing and let’s just get going already!” 

Spyro stomped right up to the two and got right up in their faces. As he spoke his eyes took periodic glances back at the pile of football fruits. After getting a direct taste from one of those miracle spices himself, it was only natural that they were the main thing on his mind. He must have been holding himself back from gorging the rest of the miracle fruit he had eaten earlier. Although they taste like the heavens, eating an entire fruit so fast would be like chugging a swimming pool’s worth of vodka. 

Both Morgana and Spyro locked eyes with their object of annoyance. Shu Chi’s gaze flicked back and forth, not just to their eyes but everywhere else. Mona’s paws lowering to his toolbelt, Spyro’s brows narrowing, Moomintroll’s hand inching forward; he scanned the situation in front of him like a machine looking for errors. The way the cat’s stance shifted ever so slightly didn’t escape the Moomin’s eyes either, knees just barely bent and feet slid around an inch farther apart. It was subtle, precise, muscle memory. 

After the leopard was done sizing up the situation, he took a breath and relaxed his stance, showing both of them his back. His tone was lower, more monotone. 

“Alright, fine, I got the memo.” Shu Chi walked back to the mound, waving a hand over his shoulder. “You all get back to doing what you were doing, don’t let me keep you.”

“Ah, okay.” Mona scoffed. “Not even gonna help us then.”

“Would you even want me to?” 

No words were spoken between the four of them. Although his back was turned to them, the tension still wasn’t lifted. This wasn’t the worst it’s ever gotten between the three of them. At the very least it’s the fastest Shu Chi has ever backed down, Moomintroll was thankful for that at least.

Morgana smoothed down his ruffled fur and hopped off the stump, glancing to the dragon with crossed arms as he tipped his head to the cracks in the tree. He got the message. Moomintroll took a breath as they walked away, unable to tell himself if it was one of relief or exhaustion. Shu Chi looked down into the sea of clouds, paw tapping as both prepared for liftoff. As Spyro spread his wings and Mona kneeled down, the leopard’s ears managed to pick up a faint mumble.

“I told you before, you can’t let him get to you like that.”

Then the two were off once more, flying and bounding from branch to branch as they went off for another trip to the miracle fruit tree.

Moomintroll and Shu Chi were left alone on the tree top, both simply trying to process the events that had just occurred. One didn’t know what to say, the other didn’t want to say anything. The pacifier glanced back at his friends, then to Shu Chi. Even though his face couldn’t be seen, the paws shoved into his armor and mumbling told the story for him.

The yaoguai turned around and walked to the mound where they sat before, spreading out the rolled up map and grabbing a few of the fruits as paperweights. The usual flair and showmanship from before was gone as he carefully examined the parchment, taking note of the different tick marks and the detail of the inner circle. Little white feet stepped closer to him.

“Um, Shu Ch-”

“I’m gonna look around the forest a bit more,” he interrupted, “try and find a few more trees that could have these fruits. Now that we know what these look like, it wouldn’t hurt to know where some more are in the future. Never know when we might have to come back here again.” 

Moomintroll just stood in place for a few moments, just watching as he took the red crayon and circled the tree he deduced the pattern from. He unwrapped a few bandages from his arm and held them in his palm to write down any additional differences between the two he didn’t see before. Although the white-fluff mediator felt like Shu Chi was at fault for the teasing, he still felt partially to blame for the argument getting out of hand. Spyro tried to be nice and handle it for him and he appreciated the effort, but he also wished the dragon handled it a bit less harshly.

“I can already tell what you’re thinking,” Moomintroll shut his mouth before a word could even be said, “and let me stop you right there. I know fully well it's my fault we almost started fighting, so you don’t have to give me a speech from the heart about learning when I’m in the wrong or whatever.”

“Th-that wasn’t-”

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I keep forgetting that not everyone here likes my antics. Back home gramps, Kulau and L-they all eventually… got used to me. I can’t help it at times.” The tone of the leopard cat’s voice didn’t change, but he was now leaning in a little closer to his hand to jot down details. Crayon on bandages doesn’t work too well though, especially on a soft surface. “You can tell the guys I said sorry if you want. Doubt they’d believe me, but it’s up to you.”

Moomintroll felt like he was playing tug of war with himself. He wanted to go up to him and say something, but kept holding himself back since he didn’t know if it would be appropriate to do so. Usually whenever Shu Chi got upset, he’d go off and do something for the Drifters as an apology, not wanting to talk about it afterwards. But even still, he could feel that the yaoguai would leave at any moment. 

Right as Shu Chi finished with his notes, the Moomin managed to force the words from his throat.

“I-I’m… sorry.”

The cat’s head raised up a bit, fingers hovering over the parchment with the crayon in between them.

“I… I understand how you feel. About not feeling like you fit in here.”

“Kid… you don’t need to-”

“Just listen a bit, please?” Fuzzy feet stepped silently closer on the treetop. “I know you don’t like talking about this stuff, so I’ll just say this and then you can go. Promise.”

A sigh and a clattering of a crayon. Yan Shu Chi returned to stand straight up, head aimed down at the notes he’s written. His ears are pointed backwards.

“Shoot.”

“U-um… back when me, Mamma and Pappa first joined everyone. The world we came from was a lot different from everyone else’s. Nothing much happened, especially compared to everyone else’s. It was so peaceful there, we didn’t have to worry-”

“I’m sorry, but could you get to the point please?” The yaoguai cut him off fast, feeling he was going to be roped into a long winded speech about his home. His manner of speaking had a sense of urgency, of wanting to leave the conversation fast. But there wasn’t malice within it. Moomintroll took another deep breath.

“Everyone treated me like a kid. Moreso than the actual kids there. They’ve been through so much more than us even though I’m much older. I didn’t catch on to some jokes people told, they didn’t understand me when I tried to find good parts to bad situations, I didn’t even know what sarcasm was at first. We never had stuff like that back home. It was just how things were.”

Shu Chi could remember that part well. Lin Hu, Likulau and himself joined a little after the Moomins had. Their nearly always optimistic logic baffled some of them, like the time Likulau and Bubba got into an argument that ended up with a few broken plates. It was after Moominmamma had spent a while making everyone a meal, using some of their own plates to serve people. With so many people from so many worlds, there would clearly be a bit of discord at first.

Although others began to scold both sides after the fight, Mamma just shrugged it off and sweeped up the shards, smiling and talking about how she could use the fragments for decorations. She didn’t blame the two for arguing, saying they both had some pent up feelings and needed to talk it out. Everyone else was dumbstruck, Shu Chi especially.

“But after being part of this group for so long, people are now treating me normally, like I’m part of the team. They got used to the way we act, accepting us as we are. It took some time, sure, but we’re still here. A-and… although I do think you should maybe… not, tease, as much…” Saying those last few words were a struggle on their own, but he swallowed the lump in his throat and forced the last bit out.

“I’m sure people will do the same with you. You deserve to be in this group just as much as everyone else.”

Only the sound of wind rustling the leaves filled the two’s ears for a moment. Moomintroll wasn’t sure if he overstepped his boundaries, he noticed he’s done that quite a bit since joining unfortunately. But no matter what the scout’s reaction was, Moomintroll had managed to tell him his thoughts. As he promised, he wouldn’t try to keep him or talk more than necessary. All he hoped was that Shu Chi understood he meant it.

A shift in Shu Chi’s posture knocked the peacemaker out of his head. The movement was slow and gradual, like a robot swivelling from its spot on the floor. With his unbandaged hand grazing the mound, Moomintroll could see a hint of the yaoguai’s face. He seemed conflicted about what to say, brows furrowed but his mouth not contorting into any sort of frown. It was as if he were still wary of him, wary of everything he said and was struggling just as much as him to force out any words.

With a gulp in his throat and adjusting the sunset bangle a tad, Yan Shu Chi sucked up his feelings and turned to face his fellow drifter, seemingly having made a decision. His eyes held a certain softness to them and the faintest hint of a smile could be seen on his face.

“Yeah…” He nodded a bit. “Yeah. Thanks bud.”

Moomintroll just nodded. That was all he needed to hear.

Shu Chi lifted his bandage notes back up, reminding himself of where exactly he needed to go. A quick glance back to the tree where Spyro found the fruits had Moomintroll spot a bit of movement in the leaves. They would be back soon, and Shu Chi would most likely leave before then. Seeing as he said what he wanted to say-

“Oh!”

Moomintroll’s head popped up, realizing something at the last second. As Shu Chi walked to the rim of the treetop, M.T. rushed over to his backpack that he left by the mound. Right as the leopard cat kneeled down and chi swarmed around his legs, Moomintroll found what he was looking for.

“Shu Chi, wait up a second!”

The cat’s ears perked up, the swirling energy dissipating before it could even be used. 

“C’mon kid, I thought you said I could go after that. Going back on your promises isn’t a cool thing to do you know.” The usual mischievousness had returned to his voice as he turned around, hand on his hip as his head bent forwards. 

But to his surprise, what he found was a small, flakey, golden cube held up right to his face. The last slice of cornbread.

“Here. As a way of saying thank you. None of us had figured out the pattern with the trees, if you hadn’t helped we probably wouldn’t have been able to figure it out. You deserve it.”

Out of all the things able to make a century old yaoguai speechless, nobody would have expected a simple snack to do the trick.

With a delicate pinch Shu Chi picked up the slice, a few crumbs remaining in the white palm of who offered it. He was half expecting him to ask for it back for a bite since he hadn’t eaten anything yet, but no confirmation for that was given, just a simple smile.

“Keh…” The yaoguai couldn’t hold back a snicker, taking his free paw and ruffling up the top bit of Moomin’s head. He was a bit protestant, but couldn’t resist laughing along with him while gently trying to pat his paw away. 

“You’re alright Moomintroll. You’re alright.”

Both sharing a smile together, the two drifters nodded to each other and waved, getting back to what they had came to this world to do. Moomintroll slipped into his boots and put on his grappling hook holsters as Shu Chi scarfed down the corn cube, relishing in its taste. Later that night, he would eat to his heart’s content, perhaps even share a bit with his other scouts. Time would tell by then.

Both approached the rim of the treetop, kneeling down close to each other as their respective auras surrounded their bodies. Right as they were about to leap away, an idea hit Shu Chi.

“Hey Moomintroll, how ‘bout we play a game? You and me.” The mapper’s head perked up, his hands only just reaching down to the holsters. “Whoever comes back to camp with more fruit wins the right to pie the other in the face at dinnertime, flavor of the winner’s choosing. Whadda ya say?”

A wide grin split across the Moomin’s face, his mind racing with possibilities of what to do if he won. With a snicker, Moomintroll holds up both blasters and makes eye contact with his new rival.

“You’re on.”

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [Prologue]

masterlist

Words: 1.5k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: blood, violence, implied death

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: Hewwo everyone! So this is the very first piece of writing I am every posting! WOHOO! Please read and send any advice, suggestions, or what have you. The prologue does not contain any BTS members, but the first chapter will! (I am SO close to being done with it! So I will do my best to post ASAP) PLS ENGOY :) *revamped/edited on 2/26/20

Winter is a delicate season. Intricate snowflakes, gentle snowfalls, and a good-natured chill to the air. This winter was different, though. This winter was not delicate, gentle, or good-natured. No, this winter was nothing like that. It was barren, savage, deadly. Snow so cold it stung, attacking like sharp needles wherever it found a chink in the armor of winter gear. Wind so violent it shook the world as it screeched and groaned past the skeletal trees. Landscape so blank it became an endless and untouched canvas of black and white. Brutal. Vicious. Unforgiving. A spiteful side of Opitax that had never previously revealed itself.

Amarok had never seen anything like it in his entire existence. He had seen many seasons pass, and although there were times the hunt became quite difficult, there was always game if one truly knew how to look. Truly knew how to see the world. The craft of finding the wild thrumming of energy within even the faintest of tracks. The hunter was innately grateful to have this knowledge during the past few weeks as this season had proven to be a challenge, and while it had not been his best hunt, he was not trudging back empty-handed either.

Amarok was eager to be home, to be in the warmth of his wooden cabin and love of his wife and daughter.  He smiled behind his face mask at the thought of seeing his little one excitedly shouting for him at his return and running to be swept up in his arms. Fond memories of hoisting her atop his shoulders as his wife laughed from the doorway caused him to release a chuckle that barely reached his ears over the rampaging wind. Although he anticipated stepping foot into the small clearing that contained his home, he prayed what he brought back would be enough to last his family the rest of this harsh season.

Stumbling as he crested a hill, the hunter peered through the obscuring white and saw the smoke from his cabin. From where his family was waiting for him. Yet, as he neared closer, the smoke became thick and dense. It was more than what should be puffing out of the chimney. Much more. It was intermingling with the white snow, dancing and curling with the wind. Clogging his lungs. He did not smell the familiar sweetness of gojcha nuts roasting above the fire, as they usually did at his return. Nor did he hear his wife’s lullaby voice drifting through the air or his daughter’s innocent giggles echoing off the thousands of trees.

Instead, he caught the unmistakable and repulsive scent of burnt flesh and dying embers.

Heart dropping, Amarok darted forward toward his home, dropping his kills as he ran. The carcasses of rabbits, fox, and coon left behind like a breadcrumb trail of bloody meat. Without the heavy load burdening him, the hunter reached the opening of land where his cabin stood within mere minutes.

Where his cabin had stood.

Choking as the black smoke invaded his lungs and further blocked his vision, Amarok tripped over a clump of smoldering rubble. The world turned to black and white and nothing in between as the hunter gripped his head in strain and confusion. As he was about to start calling for his wife and daughter, he heard a shrill cry. Hope erupted in his chest as he made haste toward the scream, failing to realize the tone was not that of a female or child.

Following the still-present screams, Amarok quickly found an unknown male covered in soot and torn clothing, cowering among the trees. The confused and worried hunter yanked the stranger upright by his disintegrating shirt and pinned him against the nearest trunk.

“What happened!?” Amarok panicked, his breathing becoming unstable. “Where’s my family!?”

The stranger’s screams faded into blubbering, unable to properly utter a word. “I-I was lost and b-bleeding and she…”

“Gods dammit!” Amarok punched the bark beside the stranger’s head, causing him to yelp. “What happened!?”

“Sh-She offered to let me stay the night. But w-wolves must have caught scent of my blood and they came.”

“No.” Amarok let go of the stranger and slowly backed away, shaking his head and closing his eyes in disbelief as the stranger’s words settled over him.

He knew that predators got bolder when the food supply waned, especially wolf packs. He’d heard stories of them attacking hunters when they ventured too far into the darkness of Opitax’s shadow. But he had never heard of them attacking a cabin.

It was a savage winter indeed.

“They came w-when the little girl was still outside…”

Returning his gaze to the male, Amarok could see he had crumbled to the ground and was desperately clutching the base of the tree.

Gritting his teeth, Amarok stormed back up to the male and grabbed his shivering form to wrench him upright once more.

Tightening his grip on the cowering stranger, the hunter was torn between wanting to physically squeeze the story out of the male’s body and wanting to bring him to permanent silence.

“What in Illai’s name happened?”

“They got the little girl b-before we even realized they were here, then she tried fighting them off with a t-torch, but they got her too. I ran and climbed up a tree to get on the roof before they got me next. They left not too long after that.”

“No. No. No! NO!” Amarok repeated the word over and over and over until his voice grew hoarse, the coward of a man whimpering with each of the anguished wails.

Amarok thought of his sweet Omara, his delicate Sawna. He gagged on a sob that escaped to freedom beyond his lips. He should have been here to protect them. To save them.

His hands dropped away from the stranger’s body and began to tremble.

“The torch dropped on the hay and kindling… th-the house went up so fast I didn’t think I would make it out,” The stranger took his head in his hands, rocking himself back and forth as he muttered to himself. “I-I barely made it out. I made it out. I made it out.”

Amarok collapsed to his knees. His legs could no longer support him with this news, not with this devastation. Oddly, he did not feel lost. All he felt was fury as his world crumbled into ashes and joined the black smoke dancing around him. He began to be consumed by an unspeakable and uncontrollable urge to wreak havoc upon the world and everything that lived on it. Because everything now meant nothing, and he longer cared for it. He had nothing left to protect and hold dear. Where there was once light and warmth was now only the freezing dark and its white emptiness. There was only the smoke and the snow and the charred remains of his soul.

The hunter’s head suddenly jerked back to the stranger who was trying to stumble away from the misery he had caused. Still muttering to himself. Still rocking his body in self-comfort. Still holding his head. Amarok slowly rose from his knees and began to stalk after his new prey, and unlike the past few weeks, it was not a long hunt.

Grabbing the stranger by the back of his neck, Amarok heaved and threw his body onto the frozen ground. The once smooth and flawless ice now jagged and sharp as it fractured outward from the concentric point of a limp body’s impact. Blood slowly crept into the crevices, painting a crimson flower that bloomed fuller with each passing heartbeat.

A little red to join Amarok’s now black and white world.

A sadistic smile inched its way onto the hunter’s face as he kicked the stranger onto his back, placing the blood leaking out of the male’s temple and mouth in full view. Amarok had caught his prey, but the death blow wouldn’t come just yet. He still needed something from the weak shrivel of a male, which is why he did not reach for the dagger attached to his waist.

Surrounded by the splintered ice, the stranger struggled to bring air back into his lungs, chest spasming with his attempts. Not feeling any sympathy, Amarok knelt over the stranger and slowly encased the male’s neck with his hand before asking where the beasts went. He did not yell or hit the stranger, just glared with such cold, empty hatred that the male shuttered as he tried to claw at the hand now encircling his throat.

The stranger’s legs thumped an erratic beat against the icy earth, his eyes frantic and overflowing with small rivers of crimson. With heavy effort, he managed to lift his hand and weakly point eastward before his entire body sagged into unconsciousness. Sighing in disappointment, Amarok released the stranger’s throat and gazed to the east with narrowed eyes. His raw anger and pain still thrashed inside of him like a wild animal, begging to be released. Begging to be allowed the satisfaction of tearing apart the world. But the hunter contained it. At least until he got to the creatures who did it, he told himself.

Letting out a low growl, he gathered the unconscious male on top of his shoulders. Then, with a set jaw, Amarok started on his path away from the setting sun and into the depth of Opitax’s shadow.

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[mysterious-prophetess]

Why Sonic the Hedgehog and Detective Pikachu worked and why Warcraft didn’t

I bought Sonic on digital because I did actually enjoy the film. It was the second to last film I saw in theaters. The last being the well meaning but clumsily executed Onward. It got me to thinking as to why this film based on a game series worked and why others didn’t. Video game adaptations have a reputation for being terrible or just plain cheesy at best. See the infamous 90′s Super Mario Brothers film for the really bad end of things versus the 1997 Mortal Kombat. For the most part they deserve their reputation as other films based on games tended to fall on the cheesy but fun end of things, where the Mortal Kombat films ended up, and the really bad end where that abomination of Satan Mario film ended up. 

With the last two years of movies we’ve gotten two live action/digital hybrid video game based films that were actually considered good all across the board. Detective Pikachu and Sonic the Hedgehog. We already know about the near miss Sonic had but I have to admit even with nightmare fuel design, the characters were enjoyable even if the plot was basic due to the target demographic being kids. We nostalgic adults were a secondary aspect. So why did these two films aimed at children work but the more “serious” fantasy style film for Warcraft fall flat on its face is what I want to get at with this post. 

It’s not a lack of human characters on screen as Warcraft did have those (and I even grew attached to the mage apprentice guy since I play mages in WoW when I play WoW). Nor was it a lack of familiarity with their world. Sonic the Hedgehog might have had that going for it but Detective Pikachu didn’t and it still worked. It’s not even having less to world build with as, once again, Detective Pikachu takes place in the Pokemon world which has (over the years) built up its own lore and legends with each new region. I believe it comes down to the execution, characterizations, and choices in what story to tell.

I’ll start with the characterizations. With the Warcraft movie, I liked the main orc guy--Durotan--far more than any of the human characters with the exception of the mage apprentice. Notice how I actually remembered his name versus I cannot recall any of the humans? The main human they had us following? I was bored by him. The almost human looking half-orc woman was also boring to me as was any and all of the supporting cast.

In contrast, with Sonic the Hedgehog we had human characters like Tom, his wife Maddie, and the Deputy as well as the Crazy man who was the only who knew Sonic was real at first. With Detective Pikachu, Tim and the titular Pikachu play well off one another and Lucy also was a fun character and all them had personalities that were distinct and memorable. Whereas the main human man-Lothar maybe?-had the gruff father thing going on but I can’t remember much else about him. I can’t remember his goals, his reason for being in the plot other than “really good at being a knight.” Whereas Durotan? I know he was there because his world was dying and he was trying to find a path for a better life and whenever he thought his people were going astray, he tried to do something about it, even if it ended up costing him his life. One half of the story was not nearly as engaging as the other. 

I’m not going to pretend the characters or dialogue in either Detective Pikachu or Sonic the Hedgehog were perfect, however they were memorable and distinct. 

On the next topic, the story they chose to tell. In the case of Sonic the Hedgehog, the story they chose was one of finding where one belongs, family and something to stand up for. A tried and true plot--even a formulaic one at that. Yet, it worked. Detective Pikachu, on the other hand, lucked out in being adapted from a story driven adventure game in the first place. Yet, the mystery at the core of its plot was easily adapted for a different medium and centered on grief as well as finding oneself/one’s place in the world. Then there was Warcraft and their very ambitious choice to adapt the backstory that was used to set up the original rts games. I can guess that, with how successful Lord of the Rings had been--as well as The Hobbit films and Game of Thrones, they figured that making a film like it would be a good idea. The problem is, this backstory was far too much for a movie to get through satisfactorily. Hence why the sides were uneven in their abilities to be engaging. This film was a franchise baiting one, hoping to spawn sequels and because of that it was so top heavy that it failed in being interesting enough for the stories that would follow. 

e.g. how Thrall rose to prominence amongst the Orc Horde. 

Both of these categories lead into the final of the three. Execution. In execution, Sonic the Hedgehog and Detective Pikachu were able to keep their stories and worlds more streamlined partly because their target demographic being children likely necessitated this and partly because by keeping their stories simpler they also had to keep their worlds and world building simple to match. Thus thanks to characters who were memorable and simpler stories, they were able to nail their execution to make wildly entertaining films that all ages can watch. Warcraft in its ambition was unable execute all the things it had to accomplish to make a movie that would work as an adaptation of a game and as a film in its own right. In going so big, the execution ended up haphazard. Thus we were given human characters who really not all that well fleshed out, a rushed plot that felt incomplete while also overly complicated. It also didn’t take into account the biggest part of the Warcraft series was the fact that World of Warcraft is an MMORPG. Which means all but the hardest or hardcore fans would have had more attachment to their own experiences playing WoW than the backstories to the various races or of either faction. e.g. I never paid too much attention to stories whenever I would play on either side as a human, night elf, blood elf, drainai, death knight, etc. Didn’t matter to me. Not really. My own experiences dominated my play time in dealing with the quests (fucking morlocks), game system, and other players. Therefore, Warcraft had to overcome the fact that games are ultimately shaped by player experiences--a concept called half-real by Jesper Juul a major figure in video game studies. Not that the Sonic the Hedgehog movie or Detective Pikachu film didn’t have to also overcome this issue when it comes to video game adaptations, their choices in what stories they chose to tell helped mitigate this issue. They managed to alter things enough for adaptation purposes as well as making it accessible for all audiences and that’s where Warcraft fell flat.

They were trying by going with the origin story of the Horde vs Alliance Faction War to set up the world but, it was still very much inaccessible because of the other things they prioritized in this adaptation. Lord of the Rings touches on the first conflict with Sauron, but it doesn’t prioritize it. Imagine if Peter Jackson had attempted to adapt The Silmarillion before he would then do The Hobbit and then and only then have gone on to do The Lord of the Rings. I can tell you that we’d have never made it past The Silmarillion because it’s that dense and full of back story. The Hobbit (which should have been two films at best) would have been ok to start with but comparatively speaking The Silmarillion is more on par to what this story Warcraft was trying to tell. 

Basically, what I’m getting at is Warcraft could have worked as a film franchise, but this particular story was not the one to tell first. This is because it was too dense, too complex, and not accessible. Origin stories can work, see Sonic the Hedgehog, but it’s something that cannot be bogged down by trying to do everything. In trying to make a world for future films, they failed to make a film that felt like it had much more than its world. You can even have non-Earth worlds, see the way Detective Pikachu handled the Pokemon World. Therefore, it failed in characterizations for half their cast, in choosing and accessible story, and thus lead to a bad execution over all.

By following K.I.S.S (keep it simple stupid), Sonic the Hedgehog and Detective Pikachu, were able to pull off their executions as both entertaining films and accessible films and work as adaptations; Warcraft in not doing that, in attempting to be like The Lord of the Rings or Game of Thrones (despite having only one film vs a trilogy or a series) failed. 

[frighthouseofalighthouse]

All weird asks!! They're so good!

Sorry this is a bit late, babe! I wanted to wait til I had the opportunity to answer all these uninterrupted!

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Coffee mugs! tbh I drink tea out of coffee mugs because who actually uses teacups? I mean my grandma has tons and I would use them, but the handles are so tiny and I am v clumsy so it scares me.

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Chocolate bars!!! I’m too impatient for lollipops and plus they always get coated in saliva which just...drips down my chin since my mouth is already full.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Bubblegum! I love cotton candy but I can only handle a bit at a time tbh. Also I haven’t had bubblegum in almost two years bc of braces and I miss it so much I can’t wait to have it again.

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Okay, so even though I’ve always been homeschooled, when I was in elementary school we did this program with a ton of other homeschoolers where you could take actual classes and stuff. My teachers always said I was quiet and focused and studious, and you could always count on me to be lecturing everyone else on the instructions if they hadn’t been paying attention. (does any of that surprise anyone?)

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? GLASS SODA BOTTLES. nothing beats soda that’s been bottled in glass rather than plastic. You ever had orange cream soda from a glass bottle????? SLAPS ASS MY DUDE.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Pastel/boho/preppy/goth, my dude. I have so many sides to my fashion and aesthetic.

7. earbuds or headphones?

EARBUDS BC HEADPHONES NEVER FIT OVER MY EARS RIGHT. BUT EARBUDS WITH SOFT TIPS BECAUSE MY EARS ARE TOO SMALL FOR THE PLASTIC ONES.

8. movies or tv shows?

Tv shows tbh because even though I can binge 4 eps of 45 minutes each per night, they’ll hold my attention a lot more than a movie. It’s weird.

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Thunderstorms/petrichor, also natural bogs. PEAT BOG SMELL FUCKING SLAPS.

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

None. I liked trampoline time back when we took gymnastics, if that counts. I also liked jump roping and Irish step dancing.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

Nothing lmao. I sleep til like noon and then I microwave something for lunch.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

My catchall playlist, Things I Love, my summer playlist, Summer Songs, my Gryffindor playlist, My Queen And Country playlist for writing, and my playlist for The Raven Cycle. (after I post this I’ll edit it and link them)

13. lanyard or key ring?

Keyring, a lanyard would like constantly detract from my outfit if that makes sense???

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Sour Patch Kids or Swedish Fish.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

Between The Grapes Of Wrath, The Great Gatsby, The Handmaid’s Tale, and To Kill A Mockingbird!

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Just fucking sprawled every which way.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

My grey converse if it’s comfortable out, my silver flip flops if it’s hot, and my fur-lined black combat boots if it’s cold.

18. ideal weather?

65-70 degrees, partly sunny, breezy, not humid.

19. sleeping position?

I need to sprawl to fall asleep, but once I’m asleep I curl up into a little ball.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Laptop and notebook ONLY IF I’m sure of myself, which isn’t often. But I do write dense, scribbled paragraphs on sermon note pages if something comes to me during church lmao.

21. obsession from childhood?

The American Revolution, weather, astronomy, and mysteries/ghost stories.

22. role model?

Idk tbh? Lately I’m just trying to define and live up to my own standards?

23. strange habits?

Pulling the collar of my shirt up to my mouth and sucking on it. Also being a perfectionist in my writing. I don’t do messy drafts. It’s all perfect by the time I write it, and I edit/spellcheck as I go.

24. favorite crystal?

Amethyst (my birthstone), bismuth, opal, and blue goldstone.

25. first song you remember hearing?

Other than nursery rhymes/kid’s songs, it was Light Up The Sky by The Afters, or California Dreamin’ by The Mamas And The Papas.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Find shade/a cool spot and read with a cold drink.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

ALSO READ. And snuggle with thick socks and a cup of tea and play DS games all day.

28. five songs to describe you?

My five faves atm -

I Am Here // Pink

The Pines // Roses and Revolutions

Soldier, Poet, King // The Oh Hellos

Traveler’s Song // Aviators

Hymn // Kesha

29. best way to bond with you?

Share my interests about politics, history, books, true crime, paranormal, tv shows, and also be kind and understanding when I don’t text for long periods bc I don’t feel up to talking.

30. places that you find sacred?

The woods on the hill behind my house. Dense, deeply green, secluded woods. Hedge mazes. Old and crumbling castles. Anywhere beneath a clear sky and a full moon. Your heart when you’ve come to terms with your fears and made peace with yourself. Anyplace with historical significance. Bookstores on an autumn/winter day. Libraries.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

A kickass plaid, bruh. Also my leather jacket - once I lose enough shoulder weight to fit in it again.

32. top five favorite vines?

Fre shavoc ado, the one where the dog eats the butterfly, the Lin-Manuel Miranda one where he’s brainstorming, “what the FUCK kind of weather is this, and the dad and son with the saxophone and the oven door.

33. most used phrase in your phone?

“oh mood”

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

“WOW! It’s NatureStone!”

35. average time you fall asleep?

Right now it’s 4-5 am because I suck.

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

I Can Haz Cheezburger, My mom used to look at the website with me when I was like 10.

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

They both have pros and cons. :/ Duffel bags are easier to carry but suitcases keep stuff from getting broken better.

38. lemonade or tea?

TEAAAAAAAAAAAA

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon meringue pie!!! my stepdad made a really good one the other week.

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

Nothing, since I was homeschooled. Same weird shit that always happens at home. Our safe word for when I got overwhelmed in math was “quokka” and we’d stop and look at cute quokka pictures.

41. last person you texted?

My gf :)

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

Jacket pockets because things are not only hard to fit in girls’ pants pockets, but if you put a chapstick/lipstick in there it starts to melt :(

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

BETWEEN HOODIE AND CARDIGAN. SO VERSATILE. SO COMFY.

44. favorite scent for soap?

Irish Spring soap or the blue Dial bars smells better and cleaner than anything to me.

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy. It can take me a bit to get into it, but once I do, I love it. I only do sci-fi if it has rebellion and isn’t heavy on the sci. And superhero movies are great but a lot of the tropes are meh. Fantasy has a lot more versatility if you ask me.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Sweatpants/leggings and a soft, well worn tee.

47. favorite type of cheese?

Parmesan, white cheddar, or Muenster.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

Raspberry!

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

“do no harm but take no shit.”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

A really poorly edited political ad on tv a couple years ago. There was weird jazz playing, flames in the background of an image of the Capitol Building, and then the top of the dome opened and this guy’s face was inside. It is the single funniest ad I have ever seen and I laughed for 10 minutes so hard I was like an inch away from passing out.

51. current stresses?

Passing my driving test next month, getting a job, figuring out if my math skills are okay enough to take the SAT or an equivalent test.

52. favorite font?

Baskerville or Georgia!

53. what is the current state of your hands?

My fingernails are short bc I picked them while reading earlier, my cuticles suck bc I pick at those two, and my pinky is obliterated and scabbed because of when I accidentally sliced through the nail with a razor while shaving the other day. So, not great, but I’m living.

54. what did you learn from your first job?

That kids can be really annoying but also really cute and hilarious if you can get them to calm down. And also that baby fingernails are surprisingly sharp.

55. favorite fairy tale?

The OG Princess and the Frog where it’s implied the prince and “faithful Henry,’ his carriage driver, fall in love and ride off together at the end. JACOB AND WILHELM GRIMM SAID GAY RIGHTS.

56. favorite tradition?

Every December, my mom and I drive around after dark at night and I play Pokemon and we rate everyone’s Christmas decorations based on tackiness.

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

So isolated I was as a preteen/early teenager, my self harm, and the internalized anger over my abusive relationship and PTSD.

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Writing, puzzle solving, singing, and calligraphy.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“Benvoli-no.” (I recently remembered I used to say that a lot and I need to bring it back)

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Dark, fairy tale anime with a lot of secrets to uncover and some dark woods.

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

TV show - “I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself.” - Doctor Who

Movie - “It’s not about deserve. It’s about what you believe. And I believe in love.” - Wonder Woman

Book - “If you never saw the stars, candles were enough.” - The Dream Thieves, by Maggie Stiefvater

62. seven characters you relate to?

Dean Winchester - Supernatural

Sam Winchester - Supernatural

Jack Kline Winchester - Supernatural

Charlie Bradbury - Supernatural

Gansey - The Raven Cycle

Blue Sargent - The Raven Cycle

Hermione Granger - Harry Potter

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Final Song // MO

Call Home // Heathers

I Am Here // Pink

Babylon // 5 Seconds of Summer

Shake It Off // Taylor Swift

64. favorite website from your childhood?

WEBKINZ AND THE OLD AMERICAN GIRL WEBSITE

65. any permanent scars?

Yes, I have several that remain from self harm, scars all over my left knee from being a clumsy child, and most of all a major scar down the center of my chest from heart surgery when I was a baby.

66. favorite flower(s)?

Rose, lavender, lilac, and dahlia.

67. good luck charms?

Not really???

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Olives, mushrooms, radishes, cottage cheese, and ranch dressing are all foul.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Martin Luther didn’t actually nail his 95 theses to the church door, he just kind of passed them around, which is a lot less dramatic tbh. Also light-up signs were first used in New York City in 1884.

70. left or right handed?

I’m left-handed!

71. least favorite pattern?

I think zebra stripes, leopard print, and houndstooth are super ugly.

72. worst subject?

Math for sure. Even science would be easier if it didn’t involve so much math.

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

Wendy’s fries and chocolate frosty!!!

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

I think a 7, usually. My pain tolerance is pretty high because of a) years of self harm, and b) due to my PTSD my muscles are constantly tense and in pain anyway.

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I was 4, and it had been loose but it fell out when I was trying to blow up an inflatable ball.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Fries or roasted potatoes that are charred and crunchy on the bottom. Chips are a close third.

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Idk, my grandma’s the one with the green thumb mania lmao. But She keeps a lot of violets and arrowhead plants in the windowsills!

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

NEITHER I HATE BOTH COFFEE AND SUSHI IN ALL CIRCUMSTANCES.

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

Never had a school ID, but my temporary license photo is actually pretty good right now!

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

I really like earth tones for myself.

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

THEY ARE THE SAME MF THING. Also I call them both, it just depends on what comes out of my mouth haha.

82. pc or console?

PC, I guess, though I don’t really game. I just watch my stepdad game.

83. writing or drawing?

WRITING. I cannot draw to save my life.

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts, talk radio is so annoying.

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie, although I loved both.

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology I guess??? Although again, I love both.

86. cookies or cupcakes?

COOKIESSSSS

87. your greatest fear?

Rejection, losing people I love, people secretly hating me. Also drowning, spiders, clowns, and guns.

88. your greatest wish?

To be a semi-successful author and work in a library/museum.

89. who would you put before everyone else?

My mom and my gf.

90. luckiest mistake?

Almost dropping a knife blade first on my foot but it landed between my toes.

91. boxes or bags?

um boxes I guess? I’m really good at fitting things in tetris style.

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

FAIRY LIGHTS AND DIM YELLOW LAMPS.

93. nicknames?

Ell, Alexander, Ellie, Little Lion, and Nerd.

94. favorite season?

FALL FALL FALL FALL

95. favorite app on your phone?

Tumblr or Spotify. Two apps I couldn’t live without.

96. desktop background?

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

About a half dozen. Mine, my mom’s, my stepdad’s, my grandparents’ home number, my grandpa’s, and my grandma’s.

98. favorite historical era?

Both the American Revolutionary period and the Victorian Era (esp in Britain)

THANK YOU LOVE THIS WAS SUPER FUN

[monstersandmaw]

Crab Monster

Gorgeous post submitted by @monster-love-storiess! Thank you for this - I hope you folks enjoy it too! Unchanged by me, except for adding a ‘keep reading’...

_____________________________________

Hey I was the anon that asked about the crab monster and I then decided to write him a little blurb! Hope you enjoy!

Never in my entire life did I think I would ever run for my life from anything. Never did I think I would feel that intense, horrifying survival instinct kick in and send my adrenaline kicking and screaming into gear. I had seen run for their lives in TV shows and in movies and maybe during a rigorous game of dodge ball in middle school, but never like this. This was the worst feeling anyone could feel. The crippling fear, the hot fire anxiety and the scorching ache in my muscles as I pushed them farther than they have ever been pushed before.

My hushed frantic panting echoed off the damp sea cave walls as I zig zag my way around dried coral and larger than usual shells. My bare feet were badly scraped, and my beach dresses was tattered and salty. But at the moment, I could barely focus on that. I could barley focus on anything aside from putting as much distance between that monster and myself.

The events leading up to me running for my life were a little unusual and my mind reeled at the turn of events that had thrown me to where I am now. Me graduating with flying colors from Marine Biology and then receiving a grant to work on a boat alongside other gradated biologists. It started off great, a little sunburned but great as we travelled around the Caribbean. Part of it was working and taking and examining water samples and finding wildlife, but it was also a vacation of sorts as well.

 We had a captain and a first mate who were not biologist but were just in charge the boat. They were tanned and gruff, both with dark gray birds and yellow teeth.  I had never given them much thought except when I introduced myself when I got on the boat, to which they brushed me off and continue untying ropes from the dock before we set sail.

Come to think of it, the only time I had really heard them speak was when they were screaming curse words into the wind as that huge tidal wave overtook the ship.

I had shut my eyes at that moment, the water spraying everywhere and there was too much salt in my eyes to even see the wave coming, but I braced myself against the closest sturdy thing I could find, which was unfortunately the side railing. Needless to say, my grip was forced off and I was swept up into a seemingly never ending current of dense black water.

When I felt my body finally stop moving, I slowly began the process of opening my eyes. Almost admittedly, I shut them again as blazing sunlight made my vision go white. I wiggled my fingers, toes, arms and legs and found that nothing was broken, but just very soar. My lung burned and my head pounded.

I sat up, now realizing that I had been pressed into the sand of a beach, the tide that had probably dropped me off now receding past my feet and farther back. Looking around I found that I was on some kind of island with a few trees and the biggest rock formations I had ever seen. They rose up higher than any building and I could already see the network of a few caves. I glanced over my shoulder to see if I could see any  signs of life.

There were none. My heart grew heavy and blood ran cold.

I think at that point I had started crying and I curled up into a ball right there on the beach, the water still lapping at my toes and my dress dripping with salt.

It was then The blaring sun was suddenly blocked out but a  large figure looming over me.

I never actually got a good look at it, I only slowly glanced up in time to see those dangerously large crab-like pinchers and the immense size of the creature itself. The pinchers opened slowly as I stared and I realized with dread that the length of the entire pinch was longer than I was.

That leads me to now with my running for my life into one of the various caves on the island.

I don’t know how long I had been running for but I knew it hadn’t been for long enough when I tripped on an exposed barnacle and I was sent face first into the sandy floor. I tried scrambling up to make up for tripping, my fingers digging into the sand around me, trying to find my foot once more.

“Wait! Please…”

I froze, my eyes going wide at the voice.

“I won’t hurt you, please, I want to help.”

I turned and saw the creature slowly approach, claws up in the air. I yelped and scooted back as far as I could, my back against the damp cave walls, my arms hugging my knees u close to my chest.

As I sat deathly still, I could now see the creature in all its glory.

From first glance, it looked like a crab and human hybrid. The crab part of its body was huge, almost the size of a car, not including the legs. The legs themselves were long and bent upward and strong and spiked. However, hat made my heard spin was where the two little eyes were supposed to be at the top front of the base of the body, a strong human torso was instead. However, instead of a set of regular human arms, it had a lower set of what looked like longer skinnier arms that looked like its legs with more of a bent and smaller spikes and another set of on top, these ones being the huge pinchers I had seen on the beach prior to me running for my life. One claw was a little bit bigger than they other but needless to say they both looked strong and deadly.

The crab part of his body was an off-maroon color and the human part was a dark tanned with the maroon mixed in. On closer inspection, I could only assume it was a male from the strongly featured face, heavy brow line and strapping physique. His hair was a dirty blond and it was tied into a half up into a bun with a piece of rope while the rest hung around his shoulder in tousled beachy waves.

If I wasn’t terrified out of my mind, I would have found him handsome.

It then began to dawn on me that he hadn’t tried to hurt me yet, or even come close to my huddled form. His claws, which sent my heart sputtering out of control, were still held up and it took me second it was like a human being holding there hands up to show that they meant to harm.

I slowly let got of my legs and his lips twitched upward into a friendly and hopeful smile.

“How are you doing? I was worried about you. I had been watching over you on that beach for a little while and you didn’t move.”

He had a sort of Australian accent which I found to be completely adorable, despite his monstrous appearance.

I nodded slowly, and then opened my mouth to speak and found my throat to be dangerously dry. I coughed and winced and the feeling and sound it made, and his eyes got wide before he looked around and retrieved a shell from the ground. This one was a little bit bigger than my hand. He held it up to the wall next to him and I watched as he filled it with water from the down ward trickling stream.

“This is rain water that leaks down through the rocks. It is fresh, don’t worry.” He explained before delicately holding the shell down to me, his pinchers holding it gently. I slowly stood up and my eyes got wide as I realized how much he towered over me even with me standing.

I reached out, my hand brushing against the pinchers briefly and I marveled at how hard and smooth it was. I took the shell in both hands before lifting it up to my lips and taking a large sip, relishing in the feeling of fresh water running down my throat.

“Thank you.” I breathed softly and he beamed, shifting his crab legs around in the sand in mild excitement.

“How did you get here? I have never seen human boats come even close to this island before.”

I swallowed a bit more water before answering.

“I was on a boat, but we got caught by a storm and I got swept off into sea.” I bit my lip at the memory, my eyes beginning to water again and his face fell. He approached me slowly, the smaller of his pinchers cautiously reaching for my face. I sucked in a breath as he gently slid the curve of his pincher down my face, capturing a single tear that had escaped from my eye.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re safe and I won’t let anything happen to you. I have plenty of wood here for a fire signal and I can find you food to eat. Hopefully you don’t like crab legs.” I giggled through my tears at his joke and he smiled.

“Do you have a name, love?” He asked and I told him, sniffling my tears away as I stared up into his warm dark brown eyes.

“Nice to meet you, my name is Blaise.”

It was funny to me that his presence went from horrifying to comforting in a little bit of time. Even more so as he scooped me up so I was no perched in the crook of his massive arm, my legs sandwiched between his bicep and his larger pincher as sat on his shoulder and my hands gripping his broad shoulders tightly for balance. I felt and probably looked tiny compared to him.

“Let’s not waste any more time and light that fire signal and get you sent on your merry way.” He boomed and I laughed as he turned and made his way out of the cave, his movement surprising quick and graceful, even if he did walk sideways a little. I did pick up on a saddened tone in his voice though and I found myself sad that the signaling of other boats would happen so quickly.

I mean I was technically on a vacation of sorts, so why not spend a little bit of it on a tropical island with a gentle crab monster.

___________________________________

Original crab monster post/headcanon ask is here if anyone’s curious about the ask that prompted them to write this and send it in!  

[senatorrorgana]

Across the Galaxy

Summary: Based off of this prompt I got from @missisjoker : Imagine if Poe, after seeing Rey fly and lift those rocks, sort of has this image of her as a jedi/legend/myth, but one day he sees her staring at the sky and asks what's wrong, and she turns and smiles at him, eyes big and full of wonder, "A rainbow! I've never seen a rainbow before" - and he suddenly realizes just how much she was robbed off. And then makes it his mission to bring her little presents or to show her interesting things- basically, anything to give her a bit of happiness. 

A/N: So I was supposed to post this yesterday, but it turned out longer than expected and I didn't want to cram the ending of this fic on so here we are today, a final fic until the new year! I'm so happy that our little ship has grown so much after TLJ, it's probably been the best thing to come out of the movie really! Here's to a brand new year and hopefully one still filled with Damerey goodness for us to enjoy! <3 

AO3: (x)

   When Poe was younger, he grew up on the stories from his parents about the brave Rebellion. He heard the stories of how Han Solo and Chewbacca flew in with the Millenium Falcon to help destroy the first Death Star, how Leia Organa became a brave and fearless leader of the Rebellion despite all she lost, and how a farm boy from Tatooine named Luke Skywalker came to be not only one of the Rebellion’s greatest heroes but the last of the Jedi. When Luke Skywalker disappeared, he figured the Jedi and all those who could use the Force as strongly as Luke could have disappeared with him, but he’d never been happier to be so wrong.

   There was Rey, a girl who came out of the blue and single-handedly managed to save the Resistance from certain destruction. She’d accomplished so much in so little time, and after getting a moment to finally properly meet her, Poe began to understand why Finn had cared about her so much. She was strong, there was no doubt, but there was a gentleness to her that he saw when she helped them as well, especially when she talked to BB-8, Leia, and Finn.

   They had just settled into their new base, the Resistance taking advantage of the First Order no longer knowing where they were to recover from their heavy losses. Poe had been working non-stop with the few mechanics that remained alive to repair the X-Wings they’d found within the old base and had finally been ordered by General Organa to take a mandatory break for the entire day. Despite the small size of the Resistance now, Poe hadn’t seen Rey since they had made it to their new home, which made him all the more surprised to see her sitting atop the Falcon, looking up at the sky with this looks of wonder on her face.

   “Permission to come aboard?” Poe asked from below, cracking a smile when she looked down at him with a grin of her own.

   “Permission granted,” Rey replied.

   Poe made his way up the ladder propped up against the side of the Falcon, climbing up and taking a seat beside Rey. She kept her eyes locked on the sky above them, or rather what little she could see of it through the dense forests of Yavin 4.

   “What are you looking at?” Poe asked curiously, following her gaze and seeing nothing of note, at least nothing that he hadn’t already seen before after growing up on this planet.

   “There’s a rainbow,” Rey said, “I’ve never seen one of them in person before.”

   Rainbows were typical over Yavin 4, with all the rain that fell over the planet, they were almost a daily occurrence. He remembered what it was like to see them when he was just a boy, but after so many years he no longer noticed him. Rey was from Jakku, and from what Finn had told him, she’d lived her entire life there, rainbows would have been new to her along with so many other things surrounding them that Poe took for granted. It was easy to forget that Rey had seen so little of the galaxy when he had seen so much, she looked at the galaxy like he did when he was just a boy, and his heart ached knowing just how much she had missed before being caught up in all of this.

   “A lot of this must be new to you, huh?” Poe asked.

   “I’ve never seen so many trees before either, everything is so dense and surprisingly warm,” Rey said, finally tearing her gaze away from the sky and looking all around them, “but it’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

   “I grew up here,” Poe said, “I guess I forgot how this place would look to someone who has never seen a planet like it before.”

   “You grew up here?” Rey asked, her face lighting up with excitement.

    “Yeah, I did,” Poe laughed.

   “What else is there around here? Are there lakes? Fields?” Rey asked, pelting him with questions but all filled with such genuine interest.

    “There are both lakes and fields, there are also rivers pretty close by, and there are more temples like this place too scattered all over the planet,” Poe said, “I could show you sometime.”

    “I’d like that,” Rey said.

   General Organa had sent Poe out to Naboo to search for those willing to help the Resistance, and with the word beginning to spread about Luke Skywalker’s last stand on Crait, the Resistance would be getting the support it desperately needed. Despite his mission, however, he spent most of his time on Naboo thinking about Rey, mostly what she would have thought of the planet after she found Yavin so interesting. Maybe it would have overwhelmed her with all of the people and the bustling city, or maybe she would have wanted to explore every inch of it, he wished he could have brought her along. He wanted to bring something back for her, something that she wouldn’t have seen before. He ended up bringing back Starblossom’s, a rare fruit that came from the long-dead planet of Alderaan that Naboo had managed to grow. While he did give some to General Organa as well, Poe had saved a few for Rey in hopes to give her a food she’d never tried before.

   “What are these?” Rey asked, the two of them sitting down at a table in the middle of the mess hall, Rey studying the fruit in her hand.

   “It’s a Starblossom,” Poe said, “they used to grow on Alderaan.”

   Rey kept turning the fruit around in her hand, seeming to try and find a way to actually eat the oddly shaped yet colorful fruit. Before Poe could offer to cut it up for her, Rey took a giant bite out of it. She chewed for a minute, seeming to debate whether she liked it or not before a grin crossed her face.

   “It's really good,” Rey said to his relief.

   “Glad you like them,” Poe said.

   “They almost taste like those Koyo melons you had me try,” Rey said.

   “A little bit, yeah,” Poe said, “I was trying to find something to bring back for you since I know you haven't seen much of the galaxy.”

   “You were thinking of me while you were gone?” Rey asked.

   Realizing the magnitude of what he had just admitted, Poe felt a heat creep up his cheeks and couldn't fight off the nervous grin that took over.

   “It's a big galaxy out there and, uh, I guess I thought if I could help you see some of it for now...it's not weird, is it?” Poe asked.

   “For someone else, I don't know, but I don't think so at all,” Rey assured him, “it's one of the nicest things someone has ever done for me.”

   Poe relaxed at that, wondering in the back of his mind how Rey managed to make him feel simultaneously nervous and comfortable all at once.

   “I'll try to bring back more things for you then, whenever I can,” Poe promised.

   “Poe, you don't have to, I've got nothing to give you in return,” Rey said.

   “No, I want to,” Poe said, “and don't worry about me, I don't want anything, I just want to see you happy.”

   Rey smiled back with that soft smile she wore when they first met, the smile that visited his dreams more times than he cared to admit already. He was more than sure he was seeing things when he saw a faint blush on her face now, his imagination probably getting the better of him and what he wished he saw.

   Poe had been gone for almost a week on a mission on Dantooine. Normally, he would have loved the mission opportunity to be able to get away from base for a little bit and get to fly an X-Wing, but instead, he found himself longing to return. He could have denied that it had anything to do with his growing closeness to Rey, they’d become good friends over the past months between spending time together working on the Falcon and Poe introducing her to new things every time he came back from a mission. Most of those missions had been two days at the most, this week being the longest one to date since the Resistance was slowly rebuilding, and being away from Rey made it feel even longer. He knew he was developing feelings for her, he knew from the moment he first saw her smile that he’d fall for her even though he tried to fight it - they were in the middle of a war after all where nothing was certain, and the last thing anyone needed was a distraction - but he’d fallen for her nonetheless.

   Rey looked at everything with such optimism and hope, her smile always made his heart beat just a bit faster, and she was easily the strongest person he’d ever met, enduring so much and still willing to help those who needed it. She was the kind of girl he used to dream about when he was young, though he’d never admit that to anyone. Rey was a leader, a hero people looked up to, himself included - she had so many people counting on her, distracting her with something silly like romance would only do just that, distract her. Besides, who was to say that she even liked him back?

   Coming back from Dantooine, Poe brought her flowers. The romantic implications of it didn’t cross his mind until he saw people whispering and casting glances in his direction as he crossed the base with the flowers in his hand. Poe wasn’t a man to feel self-conscious often, but with the rumors floating around the base of him and Rey already before this, he couldn’t help but begin to feel a bit nervous with all eyes on him.

   “Poe, we got two more X-Wing’s up and running while you were gone and - wait, are those flowers, where did you get flowers?” Rose asked.

   The entire hanger looked over at him now, each of them turning away to whisper to one another when Poe looked at them.

   “Oh, are those for Rey? That’s so sweet,” Rose said with a joyful grin, “she’ll love those.”

   “They’re for Rey but it’s not what you think,” Poe said, “they’re just friendly flowers.”

   “Friendly flowers?” Rose questioned.

   “Yeah, friends can give friends flowers,” Poe said.

   Rose looked at him with confusion for a moment before the knowing smile returned. “Do friends call each other every night over the comms?”

   “That - those were just - I was just -” Poe stammered, unable to find the explanation that he was looking for to try and explain away that he called Rey every night he was gone because he wanted to see her face.

   “You know, Finn was right, you’re a terrible liar,” Rose laughed.

   Knowing there was no way to talk himself out of this situation, Poe just relented with a sigh. “Do you know where Rey is?”

   “She’s in her room in the base,” Rose said.

   “Thanks,” Poe said, starting to walk off.

   “Poe,” Rose called out, Poe stopping to look back at her, “if it means anything, I don’t think it’s just you. Rey lights up whenever she talks about you and practically jumped at every chance you called while you were gone. I know whatever you two do is entirely up to you two but...I don’t know, I feel like you should know that much at least. It’s kind of sweet whatever it is between you two.”

   It was a simple little detail that Poe wouldn’t have known otherwise, and maybe that’s what made him crack a smile now, hearing that he wasn’t foolishly and hopelessly pining after someone who didn’t think about him nearly as much as he thought of them. Giving Rose a nod before he left, Poe went and searched Rey out with a new sense of hope.

   Poe was supposed to be back from his mission today, not that Rey had been counting the days or anything like that. She missed having Poe around, but it was different somehow than when she missed Finn, it was a kind of longing that she didn’t quite know how to explain. He probably didn’t think of her as much as she thought of him, and maybe that was partly why she decided to get a gift for him this time around, even though he told her he wanted nothing in return from all the things he’d brought her. A knock on her door made her shove the gift for him into her pocket before jumping to her feet, she knew it was Poe on the other side before even opening the door.

   “Hi,” Poe greeted her.

   Rey didn’t say a word, instead of wrapping her arms around him the minute she saw him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, closing her eyes to enjoy the small moment. Poe didn’t hesitate to put his arms around her waist and hold her close, giving Rey something to lean into and reassure herself that he was finally back and in one piece.

   “Good to see you too,” Poe mumbled into her shoulder.

   “Sorry, I just missed you,” Rey said, pulling away from the hug just enough to speak.

   “I missed you too,” Poe said, causing something that felt like butterflies to stir in Rey’s stomach, “I brought you these.”

   Poe pulled away from the hug to reveal the flowers he’d held behind her back during their embrace. Rey had seen flowers scatter about Yavin 4, but these were truly something special; big and beautiful flowers with such vibrant colors that Rey thought them almost too beautiful to truly exist.

   “Poe, these are beautiful,” Rey said, taking the flowers from him and looking at each of them up close, her particular favorite being the giant blue flower in the middle that resembled a lily.

   “I know it’s not something entirely new for you, but these flowers only grow on Dantooine, every other planet that tries to grow them can’t,” Poe said.

   “Thank you for these,” Rey said, “I’ll keep them in here to keep the porgs away from them, those little things love nesting in the flowers around the base.”

   “I noticed,” Poe laughed.

   “I actually got you something too,” Rey said, putting the flowers gently down on her bed.

   “Rey, I told you, you don’t have to give me anything -”

   “I know, but I wanted to and...this means a lot to me so just close your eyes, okay?” Rey asked.

   Without further arguments, Poe obliged and closed his eyes. Rey dug his present out of her pocket, holding it up to make sure everything would stay in place before placing it around Poe’s neck.

   “Okay, open,” Rey said.

   Poe looked down right away, holding the new necklace up to better see it.

   “It’s a kyber crystal,” Rey explained, “I found a couple of them when I went looking for new ones to use in my new lightsaber. There aren’t really many Jedi around to use them anymore so I figured you could keep this one with you, so that way there’s always a piece of me with you.”

   The silence in the room was crushing as Rey waited with bated breath for Poe to say something - anything - about the gift. Her mind started racing, thinking it was a stupid and silly gift, that he wouldn’t want any part of her following him around wherever he went, that he wanted nothing to do with her other than being friends. But then he smiled, that warm smile that made Rey feel at home and like everything was going to be okay.

   “Rey, this is amazing, thank you,” Poe said, pulling her in for another hug and taking her by surprise.

   When they pulled away again, Rey lingered a bit too close, though it didn’t feel close enough at all compared to what she wanted. She felt his gaze on him and Rey couldn’t help but stare down at his lips, thinking about how badly she wanted to cover them with hers despite never kissing someone a day in her life before this. They were so close and drifting even closer, Rey wondering if Poe realized just how dangerously close they were getting until the door opened.

   “Hey Rey, Chewie was -” Finn walked into the room, stopping short when he saw the two of them still so close, neither making a move to really back away, “Rose is gonna kill me,” Finn mumbled, “I’m just gonna go tell him that you’re busy.”

   Finn promptly shut the door behind him, leaving the two to awkwardly back away from one another slightly, neither brave enough to continue the moment that was between them just seconds ago.

   “I better go find Beebee-Ate, he wanted to run some diagnostics on my ship,” Poe said.

   “Yeah, I better go see what Chewie wanted,” Rey said.

   Poe left the room in a hurry after that, leaving the door open behind him and causing more than a few people to glance into the room that had been walking down the hallway. How foolish could she have been to think he would have kissed her anyway?

   Rey wasn’t sure what she was feeling right now, but it felt an awful lot like a broken heart. Who would want a nobody like her? Her own family didn’t want her, what made her think she had even a slight chance with Poe Dameron?

   Another few weeks had passed, and while Poe hadn’t been sent on a mission to Corellia, he just so happened to come across from Corellian Merlot on the base. He'd become so wrapped up in the Resistance with all the meeting and planning for attacks, he hadn't seen much of Rey past the mess hall, though in all fairness, she seemed to be avoiding him. No matter how hard he tried to get a moment with her, something always happened that caused him to just miss her, even BB-8 couldn't get her to sit still for a moment. He knew there was one place she'd never retreat from, however, and that was the Falcon, especially at night when she loved to stargaze from the roof of the ship.

   Poe climbed up the Falcon unannounced, fearing Rey would scurry off if he had, and came with the Corellian Merlot in hand.

   “Hey,” Poe said once aboard the ship.

   “Hey,” Rey said quietly, her eyes locked on he stars above.

   Poe didn't need the Force to know that something was wrong with Rey, she wasn't her usual self, and she hadn't really been herself since they last spoke and almost kissed.

   “I think I found something new for you,” Poe said, taking a seat beside her and slightly hurt when she inched away, “it’s Corellian Merlot.”

   Rey finally looked over and despite the darkness around them, the dim lights from the tarmac offered him enough of a view to see her eyes were red-rimmed, along with a red nose. She'd been crying, but the question was, what had she been crying about?

   “Want some?” Poe asked.

   Rey simply nodded in reply, pulling her knees up closer to her chest and just watching Poe open the bottle. When he got it open, he handed it over to Rey who surprised him by taking a big gulp from it, coughing slightly before handing it back.

   “I've never really had alcohol before,” Rey admitted.

   “Good thing I brought the wine and not the whiskey,” Poe said, “is everything alright?”

   “Why?” Rey asked, looking right at him for the first time tonight and Poe noticing how watery her eyes were.

   “You look upset,” Poe said, “I know this is kind of a selfish thing to ask but, did I do something wrong?”

   “No, kriff, why would you ask that?” Rey asked.

   “You've been avoiding me since I came back from Dantooine,” Poe said.

   Rey was silent again, thinking about her answer while Poe took a sip of wine before holding the bottle back out to her.

   “I think I'm going to need more of this to talk about it,” Rey said with a sigh, taking another big sip.

   “Okay,” Poe said.

   The two sat there in silence, only handing the bottle off back and forth until they both stayed to feel a bit flush and warm. By the time the bottle was empty, Rey was far more relaxed than when he found her, and the distance between them had slowly closed as she inched back to his side, their shoulders leaning against one another.

   “It's about you,” Rey said, breaking the silence.

   “I'm listening,” Poe assured her.

   Rey sat up straight and moved herself to sit directly in front of Poe.

   “I'm not used to friends or having people around who care about me,” Rey said, “I've always been on my own really. Finn is my friend, I know that, but with you it just felt...different. You're my friend and you've been I hung but nice to me this whole time. But I just get this weird feeling around you, I like being close to you, I like being around you more than anyone else.”

   “Rey -”

   “Just let me finish before I get too nervous,” Rey said, Poe nodded his head and let her go, “I've never felt this way about anyone else, and I know it's stupid to feel this way about you. You're my friend. But you're also a Resistance hero, your parents were Rebel heroes, you’re an Admiral of the Resistance now, and I'm just...nobody-”

   “Rey, you're not nobody,” Poe cut her off, “you're the most incredible woman I've ever met, you can do things no one else here can, and you're the bravest person I know. And yeah, you're my friend too, but...you mean more than that to me.”

   “I-I do?” Rey asked.  

   “You do,” Poe said, “I...I, uh, kriff, I've never really been good with words.”

   Poe leaned in and kissed Rey, pulling her closer and letting his hands tangle in her hair. He hadn't kissed anyone in ages, but he still remembered enough to enjoy the moment and taste the faint bit of Merlot left on Rey's lips. When they parted, Rey looked shocked, and for a moment Poe wondered if he shouldn't have been so forward.

   “I've never kissed someone before,” Rey finally spoke, “I think I like it.”

   “Yeah?” Poe asked

   “Maybe we'll have to do that again to find out if I really like it or not,” Rey said with a smirk before leaning in and initiating the kiss this time around.

   Rey climbed into his lap all while keeping the kiss going, letting her hands comb through his curls while Poe let his hands find her waist. Poe knew one thing for certain, and it was that Rey was a fast learner, kissing him with all the passion he'd kissed her with. When they parted for air this time they were both smiling, pressing their foreheads against one another and wanting to keep close.

   “I like kissing you,” Rey finally admitted.

   “I like kissing you too,” Poe said with a grin.

   “We should keep doing this,” Rey said, “and maybe you can keep helping me with firsts…”

   “As long as you want me to, I will,” Poe promised.

   Rey pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before returning to their embrace. Of all the firsts Poe helped her experience so far, this was by far his favorite first of hers too.

[fatdrarry]

Two Can Play

Ao3

Okay I wrote this based off of a post parkkate had made about Draco finding a ring.

“He’s wearing it. He’s wearing the ring. He’s got the blasted thing on his finger, Hermione.” Harry glanced at the door behind him nervously. Draco had already found the damned thing and he was in no mood to be caught discussing the situation with Hermione. That nosy little wanker already knows too much. “And he hasn’t said a damn word.”

“Harry, you need to relax. He might’ve found the ring but you can still propose. Do you really think he would have just put it on and pretended it wasn’t on his finger if he didn’t want this? I know you’re a bit dense but honestly Harry, I think he just wants you to ask him already.” Harry could hear a fussy Hugo in the background of Hermione’s exasperated tone and decided that she was the last person he should be calling. Ron was off in Canada working on a North American branch of Wizard Wheezes, and got held up because of the weather and Hermione thinks the Ministry will collapse without her. “Give me one seco- Rose please stop touching that, if you hurt it Mummy’s buying.” Harry put the call on speaker and scrolled down his contacts until he got to the Z’s. Draco could really drag this out if he wanted to. The obvious solution would be to just propose, ring or no ring. And admit defeat? He bit his lip. “Harry? I’ll floo you when we get home. Rose is getting handsy with some very expensive mandrakes, and I’d really rather not get Neville damaged plants. Don’t forget lunch tomorrow at the Burrow, Ron’s finally got a portkey.”

Harry mumbled a quick goodbye before quickly typing out a message.

 Meet me at the Brew in 10, and bring your kit.

                                                ***

Harry had chosen a corner booth where he could see everyone who walked or flooed in and out of the bar. It‘s the same spot he’d seen Draco at for the first time since he’d returned from France. He’d downed two whiskeys, and ordered two more, by the time he’d set his eyes on Blaise Zabini. Blaise, instead of returning to Hogwarts for his 8th year, decided to travel in pursuit of precious metals and stones and now markets and designs jewelry to both the muggle and magical public. But his best he saves for higher profile clients and Ginny. He walked to the corner booth Harry had claimed and placed his briefcase on the scratched table in front of him before having a seat.

He nodded his chin out as a greeting before placing a wordless muffliato around their table. “Harry, you’ve pulled me out of bed with someone I hadn’t seen in weeks. You’d better be dying to have me here at this hour.” He didn’t try to hide his smile when he reached over and grabbed one of the glasses sitting in front of him.

“Please, I know Ginny returned from the States three nights ago, you’re lucky I didn’t call you earlier. And as a matter of fact yes I might die, of heart failure, if I don’t get another ring.” Blaise paused before swallowing the contents of his cup entirely, raising it to ensure his refill and then placed the glass down. Harry swallowed, “I didn’t lose it, I didn’t even hide it well to keep it away from Draco.” He dropped his head on to the table and groaned. “I. Am. Such. An. Idiot.”

“Knock it off, Potty, you’re not a bloody house elf. What do you mean? He found it? I thought you were going to propose?” Harry made a muffled sound and Blaise pursed his lips. “How did he find it?”

“I don’t know, you know how Draco is. I was going to propose. I was I swear it, but every time I’d planned it out, something ridiculous would happen. It’s like I’m cursed. I took him to that muggle observatory in London and was going to do it there but it started snowing so they closed the telescope exhibit. Then we went to Madrialo’s and we’d found that Draco black’s-don’t-have-allergies Malfoy is allergic to hibiscus extract and because neither of us new any anti-allergy spells, we were forced to go to St Mungo’s and a hospital is hardly an appropriate place for a proposal. When we were at the Manor last weekend for dinner with Narcissa, Andromeda and Teddy the bloody table caught fire when I reached in my pocket, because Teddy’s magic gets unstable when he’s sick. On Monday, Draco and I stayed up watching mean girls because for whatever reason it’s Draco’s favorite christmas film and I look over at him ready to propose before Regina has a chance to be fake hit by that bus and he’s asleep. I wasn’t going to wake him to propose, he’d hex me- I’d hex me. The next morning, I’m walking out of the shower and I smell bacon. Bacon! Kreacher was off doing whatever it is he does when I tell him to take the day off, because he’s old and God forbid I’m nice to a bitter old elf, and Draco is holding his stupid coffee mug- you know the one that has a hole on the bottom that only he has the locking piece to so no one drinks from it but him- with his left hand, ring shining and with the other he’s making bacon. The muggle way! And get this- then he kisses me good morning and offers me a slice of bacon, but says absolutely nothing about the ring hugging his finger. And he has continued to act like its not there for the past 5 days. So fuck it. If he wants to play this game I can too. I’m buying another ring and so help me God I will take the other ring and destroy it. I am going to go home. I am going to put the fucking ring behind the toaster and I don’t care if Voldemort is back to start a third war, I am going to propose tomorrow at the Burrow after lunch and Draco’s midday wine,” Harry huffs, his face is flushed and his eyes are puffy and he is angry. God he’s just so angry.

Blaise lets out a low whistle. Harry really has gone mad, the poor lad. It was inspiring.  “Alright, I’ll help you. The fastest way to get this done is to take a ring with a similar band as the one you wanted, because believe it or not, the band is really the hardest part to make with magical rings. Especially on such short notice.” He tapped the briefcase with his wand and it popped open. “You can have a look at these here, they’re silver, the ones next to it are white gold and they are for next year’s winter collection. I’ve been working with them exclusively. I know that with the last ring you had Narcissa help you choose it. I think you can do better.” Blaise let his fingers skim the rings before landing on a white gold band. It was nice, not too thin and had an almost invisible pattern engraved into it. “I made this when you called me and told me what you wanted out of a ring. Don’t get me wrong the other piece was beautiful but it’s something Narcissa chose. Not you.” Blaise held it up and Harry ran his finger over it and smiled. “Now, I can install stones, depending on how big or small and what kind they are it could take me twenty to forty minutes per stone.”

                                        ***

Harry flooed home at approximately dawn. The sky had begun to change colors shortly before he’d left the Brew. He came home to a sleeping Draco hogging the blankets and his side of the bed and his heart ached. He took his clothes off sloppily, stripping down to his pants before getting into bed with the blonde boy, who as if sensing Harry’s presence rolled over to lay on him, tangling their legs together before rubbing his nose into the crook of Harry’s neck. When he woke up at 10 to an empty bed and a missing boyfriend he grabbed his phone to send Draco a text. His lips pulling into a smile when he saw that he’d had left a sticky note on his screen saying that he was at Hermione’s watching the kids while she tidied up.

He took a shower and dressed carefully. Black skinny jeans and a light, gray sweater. He slid his phone in his pocket before running to the kitchen to grab the ring he’d shoved behind the toaster and walking to the floo.     

                                       ***

After a heavy lunch, three rounds of free for fall quidditch and extensive cleaning charms they sat in the living room at the burrow. They were so tight on the loveseat that Draco was practically sitting on Harry. Not that he minded. He loved seeing Draco like this, flushed from the wine and the heat of the fire warming the room, smile stretched on his face, eyes wrinkled closed as he laughed at Ron’s expense.

Ron had seen the sweets on the coffee table next to Molly’s lemon bars and went right for them, forgetting his 26 years of being related to Fred and George. Like the vampire vine liquorice. And they’re stupidly big fangs. The situation being much funnier considering he was away on business and should’ve known better. Draco snorted once before laughing even harder, head on Harry’s neck, pointing at the fangs hanging out of Ron’s mouth.

Harry pulled Draco closer, pressing his lips to the back of his shoulder. “Draco?”

Draco hummed at his boyfriend, moving his hand to intertwine his fingers with Harry’s.

Harry pressed into Draco’s back as he fumbled with getting a box out of his pocket. At this point Hermione had looked over and elbowed Ron, who started gaping at Harry. Harry flashed a smile before squeezing his boyfriends side and moving him onto the couch. Eyes still closed, fingers still intertwined with Harry’s, and the ghost of a smile tugging on his lips. Finding the silence that fell over the room odd, he opened his eyes, to find his stupid boyfriend smirking at him.

Harry’s smirk deepened when he saw Draco’s eyes flicker to his left hand where a ring was currently resting and to the ring in the box. “You didn’t see that one coming, huh?”  

Draco blinked slowly, once at his ring and then at Harry, before throwing himself at Harry wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders and kissing his face wherever there was visible skin. He pulled away to plant his lips over Harry’s, letting his tongue glide over lips and then teeth when Harry laughed and pulled away.

“Draco Lucius Malf-”

“Yes,” Draco blurted.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, “I’ve wanted to do this for weeks, let me.” Giving him a pointed look, he continued. “I’m going to make this quick. You’ve made the last couple of days for me unbearable wearing that ring around everywhere as if I’d given it to you. You’re so stubborn, and difficult. You make it so hard for me to think straight, even after four years, and I don’t think that will ever change. Will you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, marry me?”

“Yes.” He snatched the ring from the box, fumbling with getting rid of the one on his finger, eager to get the obviously charmed snake on his finger. He pressed his lips on Harry’s softly before pulling him into another hug, his lips ghosting the other boys ear. “You’re such a bastard. A sneaky, fucking bastard. I can’t believe I’m going to be with you for the rest of my natural life, you plebeian.”

“I love you too.”

[outofgloom]

Mask Maker (CH11 - Final)

CH1 Labor CH2 Deadline CH3 Last CH4 Embrace CH5 All Wrong CH 6 Ages CH 7 Invert CH 8 No CH 9 Door CH 10 Goodbye

MASK MAKER

[bzp post]

Waves washed the body of Vakama gently ashore. He was awake. The air was cool, and his body felt light. He was on his back, and at the edge of his vision he could see a swaying treeline. He remained still for a moment, resting in the peaceful sound of the sea and the warmth of sunlight shining on his face. 

A sound roused him. Something moved under the trees. He raised himself on one arm and looked. The trees formed the edge of a dense green forest. Above their swaying canopies, snow-capped mountains loomed. It was all so familiar, and yet still very different.

Two glowing eyes peered out from the shelter of the leafy shadow a short distance away. Vakama looked closer, and realized that it was a green-armored Matoran. The Turaga stood slowly, smiling and gesturing in a friendly way.

The eyes winked, and the Matoran sauntered onto the beach. It seemed a very natural scene--a Le-Matoran scout keeping watch over the shore. But as the Matoran approached, Vakama realized that something was very different. The figure was larger than the typical Matoran and differently-armored…and it wore no mask.

The creature stopped a few bio away and studied Vakama. It held a short spear in one hand, but did not seem aggressive. Vakama saw that the being was nearly his own height. Certainly not a Matoran, but very much alike.

“Hello my friend,” he ventured. “I am a stranger here. What land is this?”

The creature squinted. It did not understand. Vakama wished for a Rau, but remembered that his own had been destroyed.

“Okewi ata?” the creature said, apparently asking a question.

Vakama shrugged, shaking his head (hopefully they had that sign in common). He pointed to himself.

“Vakama.”

“Paka…pakama?”

“Close enough,” the Turaga said. The creature leaned on its spear and peered at him intently, then it pointed at his face.

“Ma’ata wi?”

Vakama repeated the gesture, “This?”

“Ma. Ma’atowe?” It pointed again, more insistently. Vakama thought he understood.

“This is my mask,” he said, removing the Huna briefly and turning it in his hands, despite the wave of weakness that it caused. The creature reached out to take the mask, but Vakama shook his head.

“No, no. I must keep it,” he said, returning the mask to his face.

The exchange was interrupted by another rustling in the trees. Three more Matoran-like creatures emerged from the deepening shade of forest. They all wore similar armor to the first, and none of them wore masks. The creature that had spoken ran to meet them, and they conversed for a few moments in their unknown tongue. Vakama stood awkwardly, not wanting to make a bad impression.

The sun was just now falling behind the distant mountain-peaks, and the gloom of the forest crept slowly over the beach. Vakama let the sound of waves fill his ears, since he could discern nothing from the muffled conversation, and he felt a pang of loneliness…weariness. This was a strange place to him, and yet he felt as if he were meant to be here. The figure of the mighty Toa Nui flashed in his memory.

“You must go forward,” it had said to him, “…make your own path…but do not forget us.”

Do not forget us.

“I will not forget,” Vakama whispered to himself, staring out at the endless ocean. The creatures had stopped talking, he realized, and he shook himself from his reverie, looking toward them.

But they were not looking at him. They were looking past him, down the beach. A familiar sound thrummed in his mind, like a wordless voice, and he turned.

Golden-orange it lay, half-buried in the sand, but now its glow was fading with the sunlight. Only the top half remained, Vakama saw. The lower portion was gone, but even, so it was the Vahi. The Mask of Time had come with him after all. He was not alone.

===

His new companions led him into the shadow of the forest, down narrow trails carved through the underbrush. They spoke little, except to guide him along. He was clearly an oddity to them, but even so they seemed to treat him with a kind of reverence. Many times in their conversation he heard repeated a phrase that he had thought was his name, but now he was not so sure.

Ma…paka ma, they said, and whispered. Vakama held the Vahi close.

Soon they arrived at a campsite nestled at the base of a cliff-wall. The Matoran-like creatures busied themselves about the task of preparing for the night. The forest was full of sounds, and Vakama saw that his companions always kept one eye on the trees.

It had rained a little, and the firewood was damp when one of the creatures began the process of making a fire. Vakama crouched down beside him, almost without thinking, and placed a hand within the pile of firewood that had been gathered. A small burst of elemental energy soon set it alight. It seemed such a natural thing to do…

And yet the creatures gasped and fell back, eyes wide. Clearly they had never seen such a thing. One of them even brandished a spear, and Vakama feared that he would have need of his Huna in a moment. But then the first creature—the one who had met him on the beach—put a hand to his comrade’s shoulder and said something that eased the tension.

“Wa mu o’eka na! Paka ma!”

The fire glowed brighter as the wood began to dry out. The creatures stared at Vakama with something like awe, and perhaps a little fear. Vakama did not know what had been said, but the feeling that his presence here was no coincidence was again unmistakable. He sat slowly before the fire and beckoned them to do the same. Smoke wafted up and stung his eyes, but it was a familiar feeling. Somehow, the small wood-fire that burned before him was as good as any Sacred Flame, and longing for the past struck him once more. Tears filled his eyes, and they were not only because of the smoke. The creatures watched silently, expectantly.

A great desire to communicate rose up within Vakama, and suddenly he was back in Ta-Koro, in the old days, and it was time for the telling of Legends around the Amaja Circle. He knew that there was a barrier of words between him and his audience now, but that could be overcome, in time.

“Li’i wi paka,” one of the creatures said, and somehow there was understanding.

Tell us of your journey.

“Li’i ma,” another continued.

Tell us of the mask.

Vakama plucked the Mask of Time from the ground beside him and peered into its gold-orange surface. Then he leaned back and breathed in the smell of ash and fire. His eyes wandered upward. There in the surface of the cliff, he imagined a familiar shape could be seen. An ancient mask…the elder part of the Mask of Time—his Vahi—as if the stone of the cliff had simply formed in that shape, uncarved by any hand…

But then the shadows shifted, and the vision was gone. Vakama set the Mask of Time down again and cleared his throat.

"Very well,” he said, speaking perhaps more to himself than to those who were listening, “I shall tell you a Legend.”

“In the Time Before Time..." he began, but then stopped. "No, no, I've told it that way too many times…"

He scowled and scratched his head, struggling to invent new words. Then he began again, gesturing wide for his still-attentive audience:

"Past into Present," Turaga Vakama intoned.

"Present into Future," the Mask Maker continued...

"That is the way of the Bionicle."

THE END

[knightofbalance-13]

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/159045641422/how-rwby-could-have-gone-better-by-killing-jaune

You don’t understand RWBy at all do you?

Well, I guess it’s time for me to go all out, huh @dudeblade?

Alright guys, I’m going to be listing the reasons why I think it would have been better for Jaune to have died instead of Pyrrha

This seems like It’d be critical but post is tagged “Jaune H8″ so this is less “How RWBY is better if Jaune died” than “I want Jaune to die”

For starters, this would show how dark and unforgiving the world is. The series built up so much to make Jaune out to be this epic hero, and how he had to work hard to get to where he is now.

Now imagine, if you will, how much more darker and threatening the world would be if you just snatched that right from him. It would not only break him, but it would be a powerful scene. Jaune had his faults (like stalking Weiss), and he wasn’t the best fighter (See: Him cheating Beacon), but he still stood out to be the one in the right. You set Jaune up to be a guy who seemingly got away with some questionable things, and this becomes his ultimate retribution. Something that shatters the world. Him realizing that he’s just a person in the grand scheme of things, and that he isn’t going to be the hero that he always dreamed of being.

That is NOT the world of RWBY. The world of RWBY is a reflection of our world: it is both good and bad. It is both dark and light, it has people who want to tear down and people who want to build up and everything in between. That is why so many people love the cast: Because they feel real, they feel alive and that is due to the world of Remnant being balanced. I respect RWBY because it is willing to show the good and bad, it won’t say that the world is all peachy and fine but it will also say that darkness doesn’t always reign supreme. THis is evident in Volume 4 (the volume you choose to ignore) in two very real ways: The opening and Runy’s monologue.

I want you to read the lines from “Let’s Just Live”

it used to feel like a fairy tale now it seems we were just pretending we’d fix our world then on our way to a happy ending then it turned out life was far less like a bedtime story than a tragedy with no big reveal of the hero’s glory and it seems we weren’t prepared for a game that wasn’t fair do we just go home? can we follow through? when all hope is gone there is one thing we can do

let’s just live day by day and not be conquered by our sorrows the past can’t hold us down we must break free inside we’re torn apart but time will mend our hearts move onward not there yet so let’s just live

In case you were too caught up disrespecting anything good about the show, let me explain it to you: They once thought the world was just like in the stories they heard but then reality comes in and shows them how harsh things can get. But do they stay home and wallow in misery, do they let these events cloud their future, do they let their pain consume them?

No, they keep fighting, day by day, working to make the world a better place for everyone, to make everyone smile a little in this cold world. Is that not better than just being bleak and hopeless? Because I have watched shit like that and it only earned my scorn and hatred. The message of RWBY however (”Keep Moving Forward”) is something so beautiful I have only seen it in one other place.

Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann, the Magnum Opus of Studio Gainax, the pinnacle of the Super Robot Genre, an anime that has saved lives and inspired so many including Monty Oum. Yeah, TTGL helped inspire Monty and especially RWBY. His quotes ( If you endeavor to achieve, it will happen given enough resolve. It may not be immediate, and often your greater dreams are something you will not achieve within your own lifetime. The effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death. / I believe the human spirit is indomitable... / Never let anyone tell you that something is impossible. ) were preached in TTGL and are preached in RWBY. By enduring those hardships and enduring despair, Monty became stronger, Simon became stronger and Ruby became stronger and that is more inspirational than anything you could ever come up with.

By assuming and demanding RWBY to be dark, you are asking the show to abandon the heart and soul of it’s creator, the heart and soul that made RWBY break barriers people thought impossible: You are essentialy demanding RWBY tear out of the things that make it great.

Speaking of TTGL, wanna know who Pyrrha reminds me most of? Kamina, a man whose words have saved lives in our world, whose burning heart and inspirational actions drive people to become better. Pyrrha is the same way: Despite the fact that she might lose everything that makes her happy, she wanted to become the Fall Maiden for the sake of everyone. JUst for a chance to save people despite every possiblity of death, she faced off against Cinder. And even as she was about to die with everything she was about to become nothing, Pyrrha was the first to break Cinder’s pride and made that smug, untouchable bitch frown. Even in death, she pushes Jaune to become stronger and Ruby to accept the world around her and renew her desire to do good. To take that away from Pyrrha is a fucking insult and disgusting, just so you could kill Jaune and make RWBY “dark and edgy.”

“Next up, is the retribution thing I mentioned earlier.

Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat it, but… Jaune kinda deserves to die. For starters, he cheated Beacon Academy. Cheating on a test is one thing. Cheating an entire school is another. But, this would also serve as a means to teach him a lesson that he will unfortunately be unable to apply later in life: Just because you want something, doesn’t mean you can just wing it.

Think about it! He had no idea what aura was, he was ignorant on basic hunter history, and he didn’t even know how semblances worked. He was an underdog. And what better way to subvert that trope, than to kill the underdog?

Then there was the whole Weiss thing. He stalked her, kept ignoring her refusals, and only backed off when he realized that the affection between her and Neptune was reciprocated. It wasn’t when she said “No.” It wasn’t when she slammed the door in his face. It wasn’t when she was ignoring him. It was when he found out that she like another guy. Jaune was so dense, that he didn’t even realize that Pyrrha was practically throwing herself at him.

If Jaune is unable to realize that, then he would be unable to realize what’s going on around him. Most people have pointed out that most dialogue is used to develop Jaune more than other characters, and I have to agree with them. He had way too many lines in Volume 4.”

Okay, Let’s break this down real good.

1. Wanna know who else is the underdog who got their way into Beacon through unfair means? Ruby Rose. She got in early because Ozpin let her in early despite lacking the maturity and experience needed to get in all because Ozpin let her in. Therefore , by your own logic, Ruby should die. She cheated her way in as well, got lucky, risked her life for stupid bullcrap numerous times thus risking the lives of her father, her uncle and her sister. By all rights: Ruby should be included.

2. NO. Somethings being left alone is a GOOD thing. If Jaune gets killed after all that work, you wanna know what that says? “Fuck you, work is meaningless, you will get nowhere so go die.” That is wrath that would say: And you talk about implications.

3. Seriously? Because Jaune kept trying to get a girl to like him, he deserves to die. Are you serious?!  Do you know how ignorant that is? Because he’s dense he deserves to die?! That has to be the DUMBEST reason he and any persone ever deserves to die! And just as well, Weiss was too dense to see that unlike everyone else who asks her out, Jaune isn’t try to date her for her money or family name, he loves Weiss for who she is. Better kill her off! Blake doesn’t understand leaving your friends is NOT protecting them. Better kill her off! Yang doesn’t understand that rushing a guy who beta Blake without any idea of his abilities or powers is a fucking bad idea! Better kill her off! It’s called being a teenager: you fuck shit up and don’t understand people but you learn to! 

4. Dense, doesn’t get the memo they don’t feel that way: Sounds like Pyrrha. Pyrrha threw herself at Jaune just as Jaune threw himself at Pyrrha so by your logic Pyrrha should still die. In fact, Pyrrha never let up, never stopped until she saw Jaune liked someone else, still tried to get him after he was rejected and kisses him before dying, leaving Jaune with a lot of problems afterward so by your logic Pyrrha still deserves to die, but more so! But nope, it’s fine for Pyrrha to do all that because it’s perfectly okay for a woman to act that wayy but not a man. It’s creepy when a man does it no matter what but it’s cute and endearing when a woman does it. Guess you’d love to meet Yuno Gasai huh? Fucking double standards.

5. Yeah and wanna know how much time Jaune got to himself, that allowed him to develop that saw him as the focus? 5:42. For reference, Yang had: 16:52. Jaune had a third of the screentime as the person you bitch about. The rest is all using him as a tool for the development of Ren and Ruby, just as Pyrrha was Jaune. But that’s wrong of Jaune in both cases despite being on both sides. SO much sense there!

Thirdly, we actually SAW interactions between him and Ruby. We saw them bonding over the struggles of leading a team, we saw them having conversations in the early episodes, we saw and heard them having nicknames for each other based on what they did early on.

Ruby would have been devastated.

and because we saw their interactions on-screen, so would we.

Did you ever consider the fact that Ruby is upset she couldn’t save someone in time, like the heroes in the storybooks she read and adored, thus breaking the illusion of the fairy tale world around her and thus around us? No? I didn’t think so. Surprising what you can accomplish by applying thought.

fourthly, and this is a minor thing on my end, it would kill every single conspiracy that claims that “Miles is giving more development to Jaune because he has a big ego.”

Seriously. Nobody would even consider that as a possibility had Jaune died instead.

Bullshit: You’d just say “Miles is making Jaune into a self-insert Matyr” just as you say he’s getting too much screen time now. You guys just hate Miles and want to rag on him.

Expect a post on how the narrative would have been improved with Pyrrha’s presence instead of Jaune’s

And expect me to tear into that with all my might next time as well. I’ll be waiting.

[copperbadge]

So everyone who donated to the IRC fundraiser was amazing, but I had one donor where I actually had to email them and be like “Did you...mean this amount?” and I thought I’d do a little something extra for them. So for @s2ma, a bit longer even than the “this is well over 100 words” fics I did: 

any Tony/Steve with Tony being a responsible human and taking care of Steve would be welcome

The moment it happened was straight out of the climax of an action flick. Not that Tony had never had “this is a bad buddy film from the eighties” moments before, but the craftsmanship of that spontaneous moment was truly admirable. 

In the wake of Hydra’s fall, a lot of technology had gone missing and a couple of splinter groups had gone rogue; there were the Sons of Schmidt, the Nine Heads, the Hydra Skulls. The FBI handled most of the in-country Hydra cells, and some shadowy agency or other, probably at the behest of Coulson from a shadowy bunker somewhere, handled the international ones. Most weren’t worth the Avengers rolling out of bed for. 

Spydra was different, aside from having a super dumb name, Tony thought. Spydra had been formed primarily out of one of Hydra’s more far-flung heads, the one that dealt with scrubbing their presence from records, repainting Hydra agents as eager soldiers and law officers, and gathering blackmail material. They’d spent most of their blackmail capital squeaking past Steve’s hurricane of fury in the wake of the battle over the Potomac. Now they were trying to bill themselves as a guerrilla band of freedom fighters, stomped down on by SHIELD and Captain America, victims of a new liberal form of fascism. 

But they were also really clever, and they knew how to strike.

(There is a readmore below! Read more!)

The battle was the first time the Avengers had caught up with them, laying in ambush as they tried to rob one of Manhattan’s larger banks. Civilian casualties would be minimal, Tony thought, as he circled the former combat zone, and property damage was almost nonexistent except for a couple of cars. 

Down below, cops were handcuffing Spydra agents, firefighters and EMTs were treating the few wounded, and Steve and Natasha were engaged in a little friendly chat with one of Spydra’s top brass. Tony touched down and lifted his faceplate just as the Spydra agent spat, “ -- can’t oppress us forever, Captain America!”

“You hear this guy, Tony?” Steve called. Natasha twisted her arms, which were tangled in the Spydra agent’s arms in a complicated knot, and he let out a whistling breath, gasping for air. “He says that the laws we have in this country about bank robbery are oppressive.”

“I have rights!” the agent shouted. 

"Sure, and I’ve read the Geneva Convention,” Steve replied. “Natasha hasn’t, but she’s read a lot of manuals about human anatomy.” 

Natasha shifted her weight and the Spydra agent flinched in anticipation. Steve grinned. 

“I actually have,” Natasha said in his ear. “That’s why your arms are still attached. Tell the nice man what he wants to know.” 

The agent seemed to subside, going limp in her grasp.  

“Where’s your home base?” Steve asked, clearly not for the first time.

“There’s a tunnel,” the man admitted. “Under the Hudson. There’s a subway train that Spydra runs. It stops in a couple of the abandoned stations, then under the river -- “

“He’s lying,” Tony said, watching his body temperature and heart rate on the HUD. 

The Spydra agent glared at Tony, then surged upwards against Natasha’s restraints. “Hail Spydra!” he yelled, snapping his teeth at Steve. Steve danced backwards, surprised, and Tony saw the glint of metal.

“Steve, your four -- “ he called, and Steve turned just in time. There were two sharp cracks in quick succession, and blood blossomed on Steve’s uniform. He staggered, and Tony caught him around the waist with one arm, firing back with the other. A body tumbled out of a third-floor window. 

“You okay?” Tony asked, as Natasha put her prisoner down, punched him unconscious, and began ziptying him. She took off to deal with the sniper as Steve sucked in air. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, shuddering. 

“Yeah, you sound fine. I gotcha, sniper’s down,” Tony said. Steve was bent over, blood dripping slowly onto the pavement, but he was still standing. 

“It’ll be okay in a minute,” Steve said. 

“Steve, you’ve been shot.”

“I shook off worse during the war. It’s a through-and, right?”

Tony leaned up to check; the wound on the back of his uniform matched the one on his front. “Yeah, bullet’s out.” 

“Just gimme a minute. It’s like -- “ Steve grunted, “when you stub your toe really bad and you gotta...huhgh....wait for the pain to die down.” 

“Take your time. Tasha?”

“Secured,” Natasha said, tapping her comm. “Nice shooting, Tex.”

“Take Clint and any cops that look bright enough to find their ass without a roadmap and clear these buildings,” Tony said. “Thor, you on radio, buddy?”

“I’m here,” Thor replied. 

“You got air?”

“Indeed, I do have air,” Thor said, amused. 

“Find Bruce and get him home. I’m taking Steve to the quinjet.”

They made slow progress; Steve stopped bleeding after a minute and was walking all right after two, but it took them long enough to get to the jet that Natasha and Clint came running up as they boarded.

“We’re cleared to leave the scene,” Clint said. “They want statements, but that can wait. Hey, Cap, how’s the bullet-riddled body?”

Steve grinned at Clint. The color was back in his face -- a little flushed, even -- and he was sitting up straight on the bench. “Think I’ll live, Hawkeye.”

They made it home, and most of the way through the post-battle meal, without much incident. Clint and Natasha chatted with Thor about Spydra and where their base could possibly be if it wasn’t under the Hudson, and what the FBI were likely trying on the prisoner to get it out of him. Steve, shirtless and with gauze taped over the fast-healing wounds, was quiet, but then he usually was after a fight, body recharging and mind -- he’d admitted as much once to Tony -- replaying the fight to study the flow of it.

Bruce fell asleep face-down on the table, and when the others got up to at least move him to the couch, Tony rose to head down and have a look at the suit, do a post-flight check and work on any repairs he needed. It was soothing, after combat, and it helped tire him out enough to sleep.

He was at the elevator doors when he paused. Steve had still been sitting at the table, head resting on one closed fist. He hadn’t gotten up to help them with Bruce, and he hadn’t ordered Tony to take no longer than an hour in the garage. Usually he’d come down within the hour anyway, to drag Tony upstairs and to bed, but the order was standard, and he hadn’t done it. 

Curious, he ducked back towards the dining room and arrived in the doorway in time to see Steve half-stand, grab the table in a startled motion, and then make a strangled yelp and stumble, tripping over his own feet, sprawling on the floor. 

“Steve?” Tony called, and Steve’s head jerked up. 

His skin was chalky again, lips pale, blue eyes dark and huge. Tony hurried across the distance between them as he tried to get up. 

“I think I got a bullet in me,” he gasped, as Tony tugged on his bicep. With a huge heave that nearly pulled Tony over, he got to his feet, then staggered back into the chair. 

“It went right through you, though,” Tony said, lifting the gauze to study the wound. It was closed over, skin puckering, still raw and scabby but not in any danger of reopening. The wound in Steve’s back was the same. 

“There were two shots,” Steve managed. “I think one didn’t make it through. It feels like...” he clapped a hand over his side, well below the bullet. “I think it’s moving.”

“When did you start feeling it?” Tony asked, kneeling next to him. 

“About three minutes ago, I thought it was a muscle cramp,” Steve said. 

“Okay, okay -- JARVIS, I need the helmet,” Tony said. 

“On its way, sir. May I also suggest -- “

“Yeah, the Handy too,” Tony agreed.

“What’s the Handy?” Steve asked.

“New tool I’m working on. Hold tight,” Tony told him, heading for the kitchen sink. 

Dummy arrived in the kitchen a second later, one of Tony’s spare helmets in a basket hung on his arm, pulling what looked like an old television hooked up to a pair of Iron Man gauntlets behind him. Tony unhooked him, took the helmet, and pointed at Steve. “Gimme some light.”

The LEDs in Dummy’s fingers lit up. Steve gave him a weak smile.

“What’re ya gonna do?” he asked, chest heaving. Tony put the helmet on. “Cute.”

“I’m always cute,” Tony replied, lighting up the HUD. “I’ve been working on a new tool for combat trauma. Jesus,” he added, as he switched over to sonar mode. It built a map of Steve’s body on his screen, bones coming into focus as increasingly dense dots, muscles as ghostly lines, organs as undulating masses. And the bullet, a packed cluster of dots -- 

He tilted his head around, staring at Steve from the back.

“Tell the truth, Doc,” Steve said, voice breathy. “I got six months to live.”

“The bullet’s moving,” Tony said. “It looks like your body’s trying to eject it but doesn’t know how.” 

“If you got a knife I can go in and get it,” Steve said. Tony looked up at him involuntarily, seeing his smile more as the light drift of muscle over his skull. “Don’t be shocked, I done it before.”

“We’re not in the middle of a field in Germany,” Tony said, pulling the gloves on. “It’s pressed up against your spinal cartilage.” 

“What are you going to -- ooooooh,” Steve sighed, as Tony lit up the gloves and flexed his fingers carefully. On the screen, the bullet drifted a quarter of an inch towards him. “That feels better.”

“That’s because I just pulled it back from your spine.” Tony disengaged the gloves briefly and waggled his fingers. “Magnetic.” 

“Like your chest.”

“Yeah. The hope is, with a tool like this, we won’t have to cut in at all to get the bullet. We can guide it...” Tony focused, activating the magnets again, and tugging the bullet between two lines of muscle gently, “...out of the body in the least damaging way possible.” 

Steve’s breathing came short and fast. Tony paused. “I can pull it out now but we can also try and sedate you first. We’ll need Bruce and his horse tranqs for that, but -- “

“No, just get it out,” Steve said, voice uneven. 

“There’s no organs between the bullet and the skin, but I’m going to have to pull it between two lumbar muscles,” Tony said. “You’re going to walk like an old man for a couple of days.” 

“Please take it out,” Steve replied. “My body does...not...like it and it’s...not coping well.” 

Tony nodded, carefully pulling the bullet into alignment, trying to move it as little as possible and still get it where he needed it. When it was at just the right angle, he focused the magnetic beam, upped the power -- 

The bullet came out clean, leaping into his hand, and Steve let out a bellow of pain, hands tightening on the dinner table until the wood creaked. 

“It’s out, you’re fine, you’re good,” Tony assured him. dropping the bullet onto the table and resting a gloved hand on his back. Steve caught his breath, tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes. Tony tore off the gloves and disinfected the wound -- smaller than the others, a neat little circle, but bleeding harder -- and taped a patch over it while Steve got his response under control. 

“Funny,” Tony said, pulling the helmet off, “usually you’re the one dragging me to bed.” 

“Why’s that funny?” Steve asked. He still looked pale, unnaturally so. 

“Oh, just that it’s me doing it this time.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Sure you will,” Tony agreed, tucking the bullet into his helmet and handing it off to Dummy. “Take this stuff downstairs and plug the gloves in, let’s do a diagnostic,” he told Dummy, who beeped agreeably and began reversing out towards the elevator. 

“I’m okay, now that it’s out,” Steve said. 

“Then this shouldn’t be an imposition,” Tony informed him, pulling his arm on his uninjured side over his shoulders. Steve leaned heavily on him as he stood.

He helped him out to the elevators, and JARVIS took them smooth as could be down to Steve’s floor. His apartment was always clean, floors gleaming, a blanket folded over the top of the couch, books neatly organized on their shelves. Steve started towards the couch, but Tony gently guided him past it, jabbing him lightly in a tender muscle when he tried to resist. Steve grunted but let him do it, then looked pleased when Tony settled him in the big overstuffed chair in the bedroom. 

“I got a book -- “ he began, but Tony gave him a look, and he subsided. “There’s no need to fuss over me like a hen with one chick.”

“As you should well know by now, I am king of fussers,” Tony told him, stripping the bed neatly and going to the closet for fresh sheets. He laid down the black linen ones he’d bought Steve as a joke -- a few rose petals and you’ve got a bed fit for a gothic debauchery! -- and the soft flannel topsheet. 

“Hospital corners,” Steve murmured, as Tony neatly tucked the topsheet and Steve’s thick blue-and-white quilt over it.

“Boarding school was big on having us do our own chores,” Tony told him, as he replaced the pillowcases. He fluffed up the pillows, pulled back the sheets, and manhandled Steve into the bed, sitting up, propped on the pillows. Steve watched him, eyes a little glassy.

“Ma used to change the sheets first thing when I got sick,” he said. “Haven’t had anyone put me to bed like this since the Serum.”

“Well, emergency surgery in the dining room earns you perks,” Tony told him. He headed for the kitchen to pour a glass of water, and when he got back, Steve was reaching for the bedside table. Tony put the water in his hand instead, pushing him back, and dug the tablet he’d been reaching for out of the drawer. 

Steve sipped meekly as Tony pulled off the sweatpants he’d changed into after the fight, climbing in next to him in his t-shirt and underwear. As soon as he was settled, Steve huffed a happy sigh and slid down a little, leaning heavily into him. Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders and patted the side of his head, tucking it into his neck. 

“Better?” he asked. Steve nodded. “You want Netflix, or one of your dumb cooking shows?”

“Cake decorating tutorials aren’t dumb,” Steve mumbled. Tony grinned.

“Cake decorating it is,” he said. Steve was already logged into youtube on the tablet, and his cake decorating playlist wasn’t hard to find. It took exactly two videos of people pouring ganache over cakes or folding fondant on top of them for Steve to pass out. Tony moved to switch over to Netflix, where a couple of documentaries were waiting in his queue, but as soon as he started, Steve grumbled in his sleep. 

Tony resigned himself to watching Man About Cake make unnecessarily gendered cakes, and kissed the side of Steve’s head fondly. 

[zolzhin]

War For Peace (SWToR)

A story I wrote based on the character of Mara-sur, whom I created as a Sith Cyborg Operative. I did not get to explore her character much but I did write several of her adventures. If I get a couple of likes on it, I'll post more of her stories.

Enjoy!

The Balmorran sun rose hot in the sky, dissipating the morning mist which clung to the land. The Imperial lines, strategically placed to make use of the shade of the nearby mountains continued to cling to a dawn twilight, while the Republic position was already fully exposed to the punishing sun. The No Man's Land between the two position suffered the worst of the heat, the lack of cover or shade leaving waves of eddying heat across its battle torn environs. Destroyed walkers, vehicles and the bodies of many loyal Imperials and Republic soldiers lay where they fell, their own side unwilling to risk more lives in the recovery.

Between the two positions were also the remnants of old positions. Trenches dug my Republic defenders and foxholes blown into the earth by Imperial heavy weaponry. In all the terrain could not have been worse for culminating a final assault. The Republic dared not attack the tactically superior forces of the Imperials, while the Imperials could not match the sheer numbers of soldiers of the Republic opposition forces. Militia and grunts could not stand before the Imperial war machine, but they could stall it long enough to win a battle of attrition.

Yet even so, the word went out from captains to sergeants to privates along the Imperial line. An assault was coming. Sith Apprentices were moving forward to bolster the assault, alongside a small command of Special Forces. As the morning sun continued to rise, the Imperial beast was rousing. Massive volleys of artillery were already falling along the Republic lines, more to keep their heads down than to do any real damage. They were too entrenched to be pulled out except by brute force.

The Imperial lines teemed as they prepared for the assault. Weapons were checked, armor strapped tight to the body, helmet sensors calibrated. It was a dance of war, and every man added his own step. As the trenches flooded with grunts, Sith warriors and the more enigmatic Inquisitors began to filter amongst the ranks. Some moved without speaking to the rank and file, focused wholly on the bloodshed to come. Some hectored and lashed out at the rank and file, warning of dire consequences for cowardice and failure. Still fewer Sith who knew well that breeding resentment amongst their ranks would only endanger their lives promised wealth and power to those who acquitted themselves well, giving purpose and zeal to those who might have lacked it.

The first charges and volleys were a test, blaster bolts flying into the No Man's Land to hope a lucky shot or to rouse the massive waves of Republic aligned soldiers. Yet the Jedi in command of the defensive lines were not so foolish to waste their people. No, they would hold them until the true charge began. Then they would mire the Imperial forces in a wall of flesh, forcing a stalemate. The charge came suddenly, as the rank and file of the Imperials was pushed forward by their Sith and Army commanders. With a roar like a great monster crying defiance, they boiled out of their lines and into No Man's Land in a desperate run for the old trench works. Moments later the massive ragtag army of the Republic charged to take their own place in the torn landscape, laying down withering fire at the Imperials who dared the temerity of a frontal assault.

Out of the harsh lighted sky a drop ship roared over the mountains, keeping low to the terrain at top speed. The pilot must have been daring or mad, as he dodged Imperials turret towers and building by the narrowest margins. As it blazed above the Imperial Army, a cheer was roused from the ranks. The Sith didn't seem to care of course, but the emblems on the bottom of the shuttle were enough to raise morale. The Special Operations teams were landing.

Air brakes screamed and the drop ship flipped on its horizontal axis in a maneuver that might have sheared a lesser ship in half from the titanic air pressure and g-forces placed upon it. Now with its bay doors facing the Republic lines, it opened its cargo hold, disgorging its content to the ground below. Commandos jumped to the ground below, eschewing grapple lines or ramps. The moment their boots hit dirt they moved forward into the cover rich landscape before them.

Mara-sur was the last to leave the ship

Her steps were light and calculated as she hit the dirt. Dressed in black armor of a carapace design she moved like a shadow into the trenches, her rifle held tight in her gloved grip. Unlike the rest of the commandos she had no real objective. Her only orders were to cause as much turmoil and chaos as she could. She had accepted the mission with her trademark lack of response, simply accepting her duty without comment. As she moved from low trenches to pieces of heavy cover she made sure to minimize the target she gave to the enemy as well as minimized the amount of time she was seen. In this moment, it was important to not be seen until she began her task.

An explosion nearby caused her to jump behind a crashed hover tank, taking refuge as she took stock of the overall situation. The explosion had been an Imperial droid, probably used as a distraction being hit by a missile. She ran a gloved hand through her hair, suddenly mindful of the sting of sweat on the implants of her face. She stuck her head out from cover, to see how far she would have to dash without cover to make it to the next place of safety.

A blazing hot bolt of power hit the hover tank right next to her face, causing her to stumble back and into cover. It was a sniper no doubt, having probably been tracking her movements since she got off the drop ship. She reached into one of her belt pouches, drawing out a smoke canister. She pulled the pin with her teeth and rolled it into the land beyond her hard cover. The pall of smoke rose quickly blanketing her surrounding area in a dense smog.

With cover made she rushed out and forward following her instincts instead of her eyes to keep her footing sure during the mad run. Inaccurate fire lanced through the clouds of smoke, peppering the landscape all around her. She simply lowered her head and kept charging, hoping to speed and skill to get her through alive.

She was suddenly out of the bank of smoke and seemingly on the edge of the very trenches of the Republic forces. Without hesitation she dropped down into the trench-line, priming her rifle with practiced ease. She stalked down the trench, and fired at any enemy she saw. Unaware that someone had made it through No Man's Land they had barely the time to react. The action of killing was casual for her, without the joy and glee of the Sith warriors. She killed because it was her job, not because she enjoyed it.

Further along the line of trenches she ambushed a trio of Balmorran militia, their dirty civilian clothing a marked difference from the armor of the true Republic soldiers. She gunned down the first without a moment's hesitation, the second turning just quick enough to bring his gun to bare. She was close enough to knock the gun aside with her left hand executing a swift sweep as she did so, taking the man's legs out from under him. She delivered the coup' d' grace with the stock of her rifle, smashing the man's face in.

That left the last one, who dropped his weapon in terror. He fell to his knees, and for the next short moments begged for his life. He mentioned family, kids, and anything else he could think of to engender sympathy. She stared at him for several heartbeats, before mouthing the words “I'm sorry” and shooting him in the chest. With a sigh she moved off, leaving the dead behind.

With the element of her surprise lost, the only thing she could do now was to infiltrate as much as she could and cause as much damage as possible. She activated the special arrays on her armor, causing her form to shimmer and her lines to break up. The minor cloaking device was only useful if she was incredibly careful, but it would allow her to pass those distracted by the war before them.

Sliding over the lip of the trench she crawled her way deeper into the enemy lines. Men ran about her form unknowing that she lay only inches away. Mud and grim coated her armor and her face as she crawled through the muck, but she didn't seem to notice. This was just a part of the job, and a hot shower would perk her up once she was relieved to return to her spartan barracks room. She paused to catch her breath for a moment, laying prone in the dirt her rifle still locked in her grasp. Her outline would be hard to see against the earth, but she knew she couldn't remain for long. She had to find a target of opportunity, something that would help put a dent in the defensive morale. She found what she was looking for fifty yards away from her position, half-hidden behind an outcropping of rocks.

She found a Jedi. The robed figure of a Twi'lek Jedi stood alone, speaking into a headset. Obviously he was directing and encouraging some portion of the line. Jedi in and of themselves were considered high value targets, not to mention those leading dissident groups. She licked her lips, as if savoring the concept of a meal. This would be a glorious kill. She checked to ensure her pistol was strapped firmly to her thigh and that her long bladed knife was also still at her belt. There could be no mistakes, Jedi were not easy to surprise.

She crawled up onto her knees, unmindful of the dirt and grime that coated her front. Her cloaking field remained active, hiding her from sight. With the swift grace of a cat she prowled forward, her eyes locked on the target sights of her rifle, trying to get a clear shot. Every step was calculated to make no noise, ever movement was judged to not let armor or leather creak. She exhaled deeply, releasing all the breath in her lungs as she sighted at the Jedi. Between the beating of her heart she could feel the microsecond of perfect stillness required for precision shots. In the fifth microsecond of stillness she fired.

Yet Jedi were skilled in many arts. Perhaps it was precognition, perhaps his reflexes were just that good. Because before the superheated bolt could strike him, his saber was out and spinning deflecting the shot away. Without a word he jumped towards her, his green blade humming, his robes fluttering around him. She fired twice before he landed but it did no good, he deflected both shots in mid-air.

He landed short feet from her, as her cloaking field died away. It was quite the contrast. The blue-skinned Twi'lek was well dressed even in the simple robes of his order, his demeanor being one of competency, assurance, and relaxation. Mara-sur on the other hand was ragged and dirty, her hair wild from sweat and grim, her body poised and taut like whipcord. She was anything but relaxed as  this Jedi slowly examined and judged her.

“You are Special Forces? You have caused much death today. But today will be the last day you kill innocent men and women.” The Jedi spoke in cultured tones filled with the sort of arrogance and haughtiness that sickened Mara.

“Jedi arrogance. You think your allies are innocent because they follow you. You show great contempt for someone who is in truth greater than you. You hide from the truth of the universe, I embrace it.” Mara-sur replied with a cold hatred that many did not see in her. This girl who stuttered and stumbled around allies, could speak so well and strongly to an enemy. As if she were more used to this than speaking to friends.

“Those who follow the Empire willingly will never understand the truth. You are lost to the Dark Side, and I will stop you falling further. I am sorry it has to be this way.” The Jedi actually almost looked sorry for Mara-sur, which only infuriated her more.

“This is not the day I fall Jedi. I am just now finding my destiny.” She suddenly dropped her rifle drawing her pistol in one swift motion.

The Jedi countered her sudden shot, and lanced forward with his saber. She dodged back and to the side, her free hand palming her long bladed knife up. The Jedi was on the offensive slashing and hacking at her. Yet her movements were sinuous and focused, sliding like a serpent around each attack. She sought and opening in his defenses, a time and a place where she could land a telling blow with her knife or get off a useful blast with her pistol.

For a time, there seemed to be nothing else in the universe except for Mara-sur and her opponent. The war stilled raged around them but for the moment, each was so wholly consumed with the other, that all other concerns were blocked. In other situations it might have been an intimate moment as two beings became so entwined that nothing else mattered. And perhaps it was an intimacy, this duel to the death between so different of foes. The dodging, spinning, slashing, shooting, and other acts of battle could almost have been a dance, meant for only these two.

Yet every dance has to end sometime, every act of intimacy must come to a close. As the two fought each other to the point of exhaustion the Jedi drew on the one talent Mara-sur had never had. He lifted her up with the Force, clamping down her limbs as spider might hold tight its prey. He smiled a haughty smile as he captured this elusive warrior in his grasp. Even in Jedi there could be a mild vindictiveness at the back of the mind when one defeated a powerful foe.

“So now you see that the Light will always conquer. For the Force is with me Imperial. I am sorry you have been so lost. But I will banish the darkness for you.” The Jedi's voice was measured and calm, but somewhere deep beneath the veneer of Jedi calm and focus, there was the hard edge of anger and hate.

“I have walked in darkness Jedi. But I've already seen the light.” She hissed her fingers twitching and fidgeting. Her blaster fell from her fingers, somehow moving even under the iron grip of the Force hold. They quested then for something far simpler than any energy weapon. She unlatched a grenade close to hand, letting the small cylinder drop activated from her hand. The Jedi was at first shocked that someone could move under his power, then the shock transmuted into pain.

The world exploded for both of them, fire and smoke erupting up and outwards in a cacophony of dirt and shrapnel. Mara-sur was flung back by the force of the explosion, landing in the dirt to finalize her coating of muck. She groaned in pain, feeling at least a bruised rib or two, but it was a small price to pay for life. She stumbled to her feet, mindful to pick up her knife which she had dropped during her impromptu flight.

Nearby was the Jedi, who took the brunt of the explosion. His poise and arrogance was gone, to be replaced with shock and horror as he came to the realization of what had happened. She stumbled up to his supine form, her equilibrium tatters from the sound and pressure wave of the grenade. She fell to a knee at his side her blade poised. He stared at her before speaking. She couldn't hear his words, her ears still ringing but she read his lips.

“How have you done this? You are no Force Sensitive. It makes no sense.” He said, confusion etched on his features.

“I am my father's daughter. I can overcome anything.” She whispered her knife arcing out and down. In a glittering red trail, his throat was slashed, and his eyes paled. It was over.

Though not quite. There was still a war waging. Even without the calm assured commands of the Jedi the Republic was still putting up a fight. In a rush the sound of battle returned to her ear, reminding her of her duty. She stood up and moved to where the Jedi had been standing originally, directing his comrades by radio.

There she found a small device which appeared to be some sort of command control. She examined it with practiced ease and began typing in numbers. She hissed softly as she began to feel her scrapes and bruises more keenly. The adrenalin was wearing off. She tapped in a final command into the little machine and then used her blade to shatter the screen. No one else should make use of the thing.

She cast about, locating her rifle and pistol. She would rather part with an arm than lose her weapons. She dragged them up onto a nearby boulder, to sit and watch as Republic artillery rained down on their own people. She watched as some forward elements of the Imperials died, but so many more of the Republic fell. In short order their defense would be shattered, their morale broken by their own people shelling them. The Republic would call it a mistake, the Imperials would use it to show the Republic's incompetence.

Yet all that didn't matter. Mara-sur simply took this time to rest her aching body against the parched boulder beneath her. She stretched out, lengthening her body like a cat, grimacing at the pain it caused. In a short time she would get up, and find her way back to Imperial held territory. Yet for now she simply looked up at the sky, still barely morning. She looked into the heavens, and sent a soft thought for her passed father.

He would be watching with pride. His daughter was a warrior. Now, to become more.

[sugardaddyerwinsmith]

Color Me Romanced

Erwin and Levi put a lot of effort into getting each other thoughtful gifts to exchange during the lovers' holiday. (There's just one small foreplay smut scene so I rated mature instead of explicit.)

This fic is for Maeve @ackermom for the 2017 eruri valentine exchange. Your prompt was simply canonverse so I tried to do some world building and explore casual lifestyle within the walls. Thanks to Ashy and Melli for organizing the secret valentine exchange!

Sorry for the late post, this is my first fic and I was really nervous so I kept rewriting to make it as good as I could. I hope you enjoy my first fic <3

EDIT: now on AO3!

There he is again, Levi thought, frowning. Like many times before, the captain had left Erwin late at night after helping him cut down his precariously balanced stack of paperwork and returned in the morning hours later, unsurprised to discover his commander asleep at his desk, drooling on something official-looking.

Levi sighed at the sight, and moved forward to set down the tray carrying their morning rations, two mugs, a bowl of warm water, and his small kettle. The sound of Levi shuffling papers to make space for their breakfast caused Erwin to stir. Bleary-eyed, the commander let out a yawn, raising his head and stretching his arms out. He caught Levi looking at him with an eyebrow raised as he ran a hand across his tired face; he heard a distinct crinkling as his palm connected with the folded paper stuck to his cheek.

Levi focused intently on setting out their dishes, giving Erwin a moment to collect his dignity. Unfortunately for the commander, his saliva had mixed with the ink overnight and when Levi lifted his head he saw the thin black smudge at the edge of his lip. Levi could not help a small smile at the sight, which caused Erwin to frown, ink pulling down the corner of his mouth into a lopsided pout.

Levi rolled his eyes, with fondness, and pulled out his handkerchief, dipping it in the steaming water and moving around the desk to wipe at Erwin’s mouth. Erwin looked up at his lover, lips turning up, and Levi carefully rubbed his face. As Levi pulled his hand back to check his work, Erwin gently kept it in place, turning Levi’s wrist so he could place a soft kiss there. Levi flushed slightly at Erwin’s silent thanks, waiting a moment before pulling his hand away. “That's better,” Levi grumbled, “Can’t have our upstanding commander looking like such a shitty idiot.”

Erwin smiled while Levi pulled up a chair, pushing Erwin’s mug of coffee toward him as he poured himself a cup of black tea. Erwin lifted his mug of swirling brown and white, savoring the sweet in the bitterness. As the caffeine slowly cleared the morning fog from Erwin’s brain, they began breakfasting in comfortable silence.

Between bites of dense bread with plum preserves, Erwin contemplated his plans for the near future. Yesterday, about a third of the corps took off for their scheduled leave. Soldiers are allowed up to six weeks of leave per year in order to visit home or just have a relaxing vacation. Most of the survey corps take leave during the winter months because expeditions are rare in the freezing weather. This week is especially popular for the younger soldiers because of the lovers’ holiday. Lovers show their affection by exchanging gifts with romantic sentiment.

Erwin looked toward his companion, who had finished his meal and was now leisurely sipping at his tea. Erwin watched Levi critically survey the office, probably looking for something to clean for when he finishes breakfast. Their professional relationship had been much more intimate for a couple of years now, ever since they first kissed about six months after Levi joined the military. Erwin’s mind began to wander toward what happened after their kiss… But it was too early in the morning for that so he firmly thrust it from his mind.

Instead, Erwin thought about what he was going to give Levi for the lovers’ holiday. For Levi’s birthday several weeks previously, Erwin had presented him with some expensive tea from Mitras. Though Levi wasn’t usually one for materialistic displays of affection, he had enthusiastically showed his gratitude later that evening… Once again, Erwin had to reinforce his mental self control and keep his mind from wandering.

While Erwin was lost in thought, Levi had finished his tea and began cleaning up. He enjoyed seeing Erwin like this in the morning, relaxed and tranquil. He still looked a bit disheveled from sleeping at his desk, but Levi liked that Erwin is comfortable enough with him to let himself be mussed up. In fact, Levi wanted to run his hands through Erwin’s hair himself and pull… But that would have to wait, he needed to do something first.

“Oi, Erwin.” As the commander’s blue gaze met Levi’s, Erwin smiled at him to show he was paying attention. Trying not to be distracted by the warmth in Erwin’s eyes, Levi continued, “I need to go to Sina for a couple days. I have a meeting. I plan on leaving after breakfast.” Levi knew Erwin would be disappointed, but he only frowned for a moment before schooling his features. Levi could not help himself from teasing, “Are you sure you’ll be fine without me for a night or two?” Erwin looked down and reached for Levi’s hand, holding it gently as he spoke. “I suppose I will be, but I cannot say that I won’t miss you.” Levi felt himself grow hot as Erwin looked back into his eyes, full of emotion. After being together for so long, he was still not used to how damn charming Erwin can be.

Unsure what to say, Levi cleared his throat and nodded curtly, standing to begin gathering up their dishes. Erwin rose too, looking fondly at Levi as he helped clean up their shared space. When everything was back on the tray, Levi lifted it and began heading to the door. “I look forward to your return, Captain,” Erwin called out. Levi nodded at Erwin again before heading out.

Erwin’s gaze lingered on the space where Levi disappeared, his heart feeling a bit heavier.

* * * * *

A few hours later Erwin finally finished his pile of paperwork from the night before. He rolled his neck and heard a few cracks. He stood to go to the window and heard a few more. Sighing, he decided he should go exercise while it’s still light out. Levi would say he’s becoming a frail old man. Erwin smiled at the thought as he put on his gear.

Grabbing his cloak on the way out, Erwin headed to the training area. There was a brisk chill in the air and Erwin made sure to secure his green winter cloak around his neck. He decided to do a short but fast paced routine to get his blood pumping and stave off the cold. Firing his cables toward a line of nearby pines, he was soon flying through the air.

Erwin decided to practice controlled falling. He has never been a fan of heights but he forces himself to practice falling in order to keep himself for giving into his fear. What sort of commander can honorably lead his troops while fearing for his own life, Erwin thought to himself. Once he was deep enough in the small forest, Erwin paused high up on a thick tree branch to survey his surroundings. Because of the cold and the holiday, he did not see or hear anyone training near him. Unsheathing his blades, he picked out a spot for training and launched himself toward a distant tree. About halfway to his destination, he released his cables and began free falling, trying to remain in control of his descent. After falling several meters, he fired his cables again and connected to another thick branch, working on maintaining his balance as he’s pulled up.

Erwin continued his practice for about twenty minutes, falling and rising as the sunk began to sink in the background. Erwin took note of the setting sun and decided to make this next fall his last. Choosing a particularly large branch as his target, he fired away and was focusing intently on his target when he noticed a deep blue spec in the corner of his eye. Instead of falling, Erwin redirected his cables toward the nearest tree and quickly descended, landing a bit too heavily on the lightly snow-covered ground. He skidded a few feet to the base of the tree that caught his eye.

There was a large whirl in the bark in which small plants were growing. Erwin kneeled down and reached out to touch the small blue petals of a cornflower. There were a few dozen growing between the cracks in the pine bark. Although cornflowers are technically weeds, he was surprised to find so many alive during winter. Maybe spring was coming sooner than he thought.

Erwin gently picked enough cornflowers for a small bouquet and hurried back to the base, cradling the flowers carefully in his hands.

* * * * *

The following morning, Levi woke early to the sound of the innkeeper’s rooster. He had spent the night in a small room at a cheap inn and although it wasn’t too terribly dirty, he didn’t want to spend another night here if he could avoid it. He wanted to complete his business and get back to base. After a hearty breakfast stew to restore his energy, Levi visited the stables next to the inn and checked in on his horse. The mare seemed comfortable in her warm stable, chewing lazily on some hay. He spent a quarter hour brushing her down and fed her an apple when he was done. Patting her nose, Levi left the stables and began a leisurely stroll through the town.

Yarckel was a small district in West Sina, where Mitras has most of its fine goods imported from. There was a small lake just outside the district in Wall Rose, where artisans got their fine sand to create impressive glassworks for the wealthy to purchase. Levi had ridden several hours the day before to get to Yarckel before the end of the business day. After finding an inn and housing his horse, he was able to meet the master glassblower he had travelled to find and was the master’s last customer of the day. Levi explained what he wanted and the glassblower had been very accommodating, even giving Levi a small discount as thanks for his service. Levi was glad to find someone who appreciated the goal of the survey corps and noted to tell Erwin about him when he returned.

It had been about half a day since Levi commissioned the artist and he was eager to see the finished product. He had been told to return in the morning to pick it up. Levi took his time walking through town, knowing he had plenty of hours of daylight left for the return trip. He had heard of the fine works made in Yarckel while he was in the Underground and had fantasized about stealing them from the rich aboveground and selling it back at a much higher rate. Kenny gave him a bedtime story once about a finely crafted pine walking staff that he managed to nab from a rich citizen. Kenny had boasted about ransoming back the family heirloom at a ridiculous price, although his plan was ultimately foiled when some soldiers noticed their shady exchange. Kenny had only managed to grab a fraction of the money before fleeing and young Levi had still been very impressed at his uncle’s daring. Levi smiled, thinking about it now.

During his reminiscing, Levi found himself on the street he was looking for. He looked through the shop window to make sure the master was in, then let himself through the door, nodding hello. The glassblower greeted him happily, ushering him to his back room where he kept his commissioned pieces. After a moment of searching, he offered Levi his glass piece. The artist chatted at him about the process while Levi inspected it. The spun glass was a delicate shade of swirling rose, with small, smooth knobs decorating the outer part. It was about a half a foot tall and as Levi admired it, the shopkeeper went to find him appropriate packaging for his fragile piece. After it was securely padded and contained, Levi paid for his purchase. He gave the glassblower a short but genuine compliment on the quality craftsmanship then headed out with a polite wave, walking back to his inn faster than he had away from it.

Levi was excited now that he had his present and he was eager to see Erwin’s reaction. He gathered some traveling rations from the innkeeper and saddled up his horse, happy to know that he would be able to spend more of the holiday with his lover.

* * * * *

Erwin didn’t know when Levi would return, so he decided to to get all of his work done early with the hope that Levi would be back that evening. The night previously, he had tried to take care of his bundle of cornflowers as soon as he got back to the base. In lieu of a vase and with no experience in plant care, he placed the flowers in a tall mug of water and set it by his window. In the morning, he had switched out the water and adjusted the mug so it got some sunlight. He hoped the treatment would help liven up the flowers but by the time he finished his paperwork and exercise for the day he couldn’t see any difference. The flowers weren’t wilting yet but the petals were smaller than normal, probably because they grew in the cold. Erwin was thankful that at least he hadn’t damaged them further.

A few hours before sunset, Erwin began preparations for his gift making. He laid out a towel over his desk and gently placed the small flowers on it. He left them there to dry, heading to the dining hall for an early dinner. He grabbed an extra large portion since he planned on being locked up in his rooms for the rest of the night. In his excitement, he took too large a bite of meat and ended up choking a bit. Luckily the only people nearby were a few cooks and they were too busy preparing dinner to notice his lack of composure. Erwin forced himself to eat slower to avoid any more embarrassment.

Back in his office after dinner, Erwin was tidying up so Levi would be pleased when he came back. Once he finished up organizing his papers, Erwin contemplated how best to transport the delicate flowers from his desk to his living quarters. He didn’t want to expose them any more to the elements, especially with the chilly wind blowing outside, so he decided to roll them up gently in the towel and carry the bundle to his rooms. After mentally preparing himself to step out into the cold, Erwin rushed across the base to the living quarters. As he passed the barracks, through the window he saw a group of new recruits bonding with some older fighters with a few expeditions under their belts. They were sitting by the communal fire, drinking together and playing cards. He was pleased to see his soldiers bonding since they couldn’t go home for for the holiday. The commander considered stopping in for a moment, but he didn’t want to ruin the warm atmosphere. Besides, he had a gift to make. Erwin smiled, thinking about Levi’s reaction to his present, and continued on to the next building.

Soon he arrived at his personal rooms, setting his package down carefully before shedding his winter cloak. Erwin quickly set about making a fire and within minutes the room had warmed up enough that he felt comfortable without his boots and jacket. He continued undressing, unbuckling his straps and loosening his bolo tie, before setting down to work on his project. He laid out all the cornflowers gently at a small table next to a pile of long grasses that he had collected and cleaned earlier in the morning. As soon as his fingers had warmed up enough, he began working on his project.

Over two decades previously, when Erwin was a young boy, his father had taught him how to weave a ring of flowers out of the local plants that grew around their home village. In the beginning of spring, Mr. Smith would take his son on a long, meandering walk in search of their favorite flowers and grasses.They would start immediately after breakfast and walk southward to where many wildflowers grew. The flowers they picked would vary from year to year but they always made sure to grab plenty of blooming cornflowers because they reminded Mr. Smith of his wife’s eyes. He said once that Erwin’s eyes were like his mother’s, the color brought out by the deep cornflower blue.

Their walk would end around midday when they reached the town’s graveyard, which was really just a flat plain scattered with dozens of carved rocks of various weathering. Mrs. Smith’s grave was toward the eastern side of the plot; her husband chose to bury her there because she loved to watch the sunrise. After presenting their freshly picked plants, Mr. Smith and his son would share a small picnic together as they made flower rings and twists to place on her stone marker. After an hour or so, they would say their goodbyes and leave their flower creations behind, save two circlets that they wore on their heads for the journey home and the rest of the evening.

As the commander’s fingers twisted the delicate stems into place, he remembered his father’s tender smile at the graveyard, a smile he only showed when he thought of his wife. His father put all his love into remembering her and raising their son. Erwin wanted to show Levi that same devotion; he wanted to share this part of himself with the person he loves.

Erwin worked diligently on his present until the sun began to set. It was not turning out as well as he had hoped - some petals were wilting and his ring was somehow more oblong than circular. At least the color isn’t faded, he thought to himself. The blue was the symbol of his love. He noticed the natural light in his roomer growing dimmer and sighed to himself. Levi probably wouldn’t be back tonight. Erwin missed him, but he didn’t want to hope that his captain would travel in the cold. He decided to bathe and prepare for bed, not wanting to ruin the flowers more in his frustration. He left his work station and moved dejectedly to the toilet room to clean up.

Erwin felt a bit better after a quick bath and in a quarter hour he stepped out from the water, scrubbing himself dry with a worn military-issue towel, which he nearly dropped when he reentered the main room. To his surprise and delight, Levi was sitting in his chair by the fire, absentmindedly stoking the flames. Levi had arrived about ten minutes earlier after stabling his mare. He wanted to see Erwin as soon as he got back but when he realized the commander was busy he decided to settle in and get comfortable. Levi watched the shock cross Erwin’s face and the delight that followed. Levi rose from his seat as Erwin shortened the distance between them and embraced his captain tightly.

Levi allowed this for a moment, reveling in Erwin’s warmth, before clearing his throat and stepping back a bit. Erwin tried to bend down for a kiss, hair still dripping and mussed up, but Levi kindly placed a halting hand on his cheek. “I’m fucking disgusting from traveling all day. Is the bath still warm?” Erwin nodded, pouting slightly from the rejection. Levi hid his smile by kissing his commander’s palm tenderly, then started moving toward the bathroom. “Keep the towel on and bring me something clean to wear. I’ll be out shortly.”

Twenty minutes later, Levi exited the side room wearing one of Erwin’s softest uniform shirts. The hem hung around mid thigh and Erwin watched it rise tantalizingly high when Levi stretched his arms above his head, looking much more clean and relaxed. Levi smirked at his lover’s attention and walked leisurely to where Erwin was leaning against a table, dressed only in his undershirt and a pair of briefs. Levi paused a few feet away when Erwin shifted his body against the table. “What are you hiding over there?” Erwin smiled as turned his torso to reach behind him, grabbing his circlet gently and presenting it to Levi.

His expression remained unchanged as he received it with open palms, delicately probing fingers brushing against the petals. He didn’t see any unnecessary dirt, not that he expected an unclean present from Erwin, and started admiring the texture and color of the woven plants. “These are cornflowers. When I was young, my father would take me every year to lay these rings at my mother’s grave. My father chose these flowers because he said they reminded him of my mother’s eyes. I made because I want to share my love with you.” Levi’s eyes softened as Erwin slowly lifted the circlet from his palms and placed it tenderly over his head, settling coolly against his clavicle. A few small petals remained in his hand and he lifted them up to compare. The flowers are a deeper blue, but Erwin’s eyes are more beautiful. They were also full of warmth and coming closer as Erwin leaned in to finally place his lips on Levi’s. They kissed slowly and lovingly for a minute before Levi pulled away again, although Erwin was smiling this time. “I have a gift for you too. Come with me.”

Levi lead Erwin into the bedroom and went to the dresser to pull a smallish rectangular box from the travel bag he had placed there when he arrived. Levi’s hand on Erwin’s chest gently urged the commander to sit on the edge of the bed and with his other hand he placed the package in the waiting palm. Curious, Erwin began opening his gift as Levi watched from above. The commander’s thick brows were drawn down as he got his first glimpse of soft red and were then drawn up in confusion when he pulled the blown glass piece from the box. It was about six inches long and one across, curved slightly with scattered bumps warping the red swirls in the center. “It’s...pretty?” Erwin suggested. Levi snorted at his comment and righted the glass in his hand, dragging his fingers slowly up the bumpy surface. Erwin swallowed as he heard the amused voice above him. “It’s more than just decoration, commander. It has a very practical use.” Erwin felt his skin flush as he realized exactly what Levi had gifted him, watching Levi’s index finger stroke downwards slowly.

Levi raised his finger to under Erwin’s chin, lifting his head to stare into blue eyes. “Would you like a demonstration?” Instead of waiting for an answer, Levi moved in to press hard against unsuspecting lips, parting them slightly to deepen the kiss. Erwin reacted immediately, grasping the toy in his left hand and using the other to pull them closer. In response to his enthusiasm, Levi pushed Erwin back flat against the bed, climbing onto the commander and spreading his thick, bare thighs. Levi distracted Erwin with his tongue, using his right hand to pin down Erwin’s arm, sliding it down to the glass dildo and stealing it from Erwin’s hold. Levi righted himself and slid his right hand appreciatively down Erwin’s chest through the undershirt, down to feel Erwin’s already half hard length. Levi placed the dildo next to it, appreciating the contrast of rose glass against gray cotton. He moved the toy against Erwin, pushing gently so Erwin could feel the smooth bumps brushing against his briefs.“It’s not as big as yours, but I think I can still make it feel good for you.”

Levi dragged the dildo lower, pressing it along Erwin’s taint. Erwin’s arm reached out to touch Levi again and Levi’s right hand gripped the incoming wrist, twisting slightly to stop its progress. Erwin tried again and reached out with his other arm so Levi dropped the glass, swatting Erwin’s hand aside and grinding his pelvis against the commander’s ass. Keeping Erwin’s wrist pinned down and Erwin’s legs spread open, Levi growled out, “How bout you let me take care of you tonight, hmm?” Levi dug his tumbnail lightly into the skin of Erwin’s thigh. “I want to thank you for my present.”

Levi knew he wasn’t completely ready to give up the fight, but after a moment Erwin relaxed his body and stopped straining against his lover’s hands. “Good choice,” Levi purred, fisting a hand in Erwin’s undershirt and pulling him up for a rough kiss. “You won’t regret it.”

* * * * *

An hour later, the couple was cuddling together, legs tangled in a thin blanket. Erwin’s head was resting against Levi’s chest, sated and content to feel Levi’s thin fingers run gently through his hair. “You know,” Erwin spoke after a few happy minutes, “I had no idea what you were planning for this holiday. I thought you didn’t like material gifts.” Levi hummed shortly, kissing tousled blond locks before responding. “You are always so thoughtful about me. I wanted to do something special to show how much I appreciate it. And you.”

Erwin grinned, fingers brushing against some of the crumpled blue petals that had accidentally been scattered across the bed during their enthusiastic lovemaking. “I think you had the better gift, this time.” Levi laughed at that. “Mine wasn’t better, it’s just less fragile. We both put a lot of thought into it.” Erwin shifted his body to face his lover, resting his weight on one bended arm. “I was very surprised by my present. How did you come up with such an idea?” Levi stroked Erwin’s cheek and Erwin turned his head to kiss his palm. “I’ll tell you later. But I do have something to say.” Erwin straightened up and looked into Levi’s eyes to show that he was paying diligent attention. “I think we had similar ideas. You wanted to put me in blue since you’re a romantic sap, but that cornflower is your color. I chose the reddened glass because it reminds me of how flushed your cock gets when I’m teasing you. And of the blush on your face when I made you come from your ass.” As Levi expected, his words had brought a pink tinge of embarrassment to the commander’s cheeks and chest, but after a moment Erwin just laughed and leaned up for another kiss.

After pulling up the heavier blankets from where they were pushed onto the floor, the captain and his commander settled in for the night, still embracing each other as they drifted off into a blissful, much deserved sleep.

[oldtowrs]

Stay Your Tears - Thranduil

For the anon who requested Thranduil fluff: Person A is trying to show person B how much they love them and they overhear that they like roses so they go to a rose bush and grab a handful and end up hurting themselves. When person B walks up and notices the blood on their hands they ask them what’s wrong and person A reluctantly shows them the handful of roses. How person B reacts is up to you. (from otpprompts)

A/N: I SAW THIS PROMPT AND AWWW. And I apologize, but I have a problem with writing just fluff, because it always seems to not really have a plot. What I’m trying to say is I threw a bit (a lot) of angst in there, but it still ends in fluff... Sorry if that was not what you were looking for anon. 

Translations: Meleth: love, Gornon, valiant one, Meleth e-guilen, Love of my Life, Miluis, lovely one. 

Warnings: Thranduil tears (they are sacred and need to be preserved) and mentions of blood and minor injury. 

Words: 1600

Ever since the Battle of Dagorlad and the War of the Last Alliance, Thranduil attended to the duties forced upon him with a frown upon his lips and sorrow in his heart, his father’s crown weighing heavily upon his luscious platinum locks, and mourned the loss of his king and father under the light of moon and star, weeping to the roses in the gardens, all memory of me, his lover, having faded from his beautiful mind the moment Thranduil had seen the point of a sword pierce his father’s heart, and protrude from his chest. I was supposed to be at his side, ready to offer comfort the moment he was in need of it, to clear his mind with the gentlest and most tender of touches, but alas, he refused me, insisting that I should not see him in the state he was in, insisting that no one should. And contradictory to his wishes, I wanted to show him how much I loved him, how much he meant to me, and how I couldn’t stand by and which his heart whither and die.

I suppose that was how I found myself walking about the bushes and clumps of verdant shrubbery and blooms of all shades, searching hastily for the alabaster roses my beloved cherished so dearly, seeing as the golden light of day that normally dusted the forest floor was beginning to fade, the luminescence of night taking its place, the silver glow that Thranduil lamented beneath.

My eyes soon found the bush, the pallid blooms and the decay that surrounded it looking like death itself under the now sterling light and although the sight brought me a great regret, and overwhelming heartache, I approached, my fingertips resting gently upon the velvet petals, as I sank to my knees beside the thicket. I went to pluck the single flower from its accomplices, but stopped when I saw the deadly thorns, the points an ebony hue, dark as the dead of night was frightful.

This is for Thranduil, these feeble things make him happy, I thought, a soft sigh escaping my lips. For Thranduil.

I closed my fingers around the pointed stem, tears pricking my eyes as a rivulet of crimson trickled down my hand, staining my wrists with its color. I pulled the bloom from the bush with as much delicacy as I could manage, transferring it to my other hand, the same stream of color escaping my fingertips and palm again.

Again I grasped the stem of another, sickly beautiful flower, and again I placed it in my other hand. I did not stop the repetition, despite the ever growing pain and bleeding cuts that soon littered my hands, until I had a handful of seven flowers. I looked down to the matted down, ochre blades of grass, the dirt beneath, drops of my blood blotching the long dead plant life as I sniffed, tears falling from my eyes to join the blood.

“Y/N,” A familiar voice, regal, sweet, and full of melancholy gasped from behind me, “w-what are you doing here.”

I stood, turning to face him, to see the celestial form of Thranduil, clothed in the same dark shade as my dried blood upon the ground, his pale hair unadorned and unbraided, his milky skin seeming to glitter in the moonlight, his eyes already brimming with tears.

My hand came behind my back, in order to hide the cluster of flora and the blood on my that hand, while the other foolishly brushed back a strand of my H/C hair.

“I was mourning,” I muttered, the lie passing through my teeth easily as I sniffed.

“You have not once mourned the loss of my father since he sailed,” Thranduil accused, although the accusation was light and void of any anger, as he approached, me his footsteps soft against the forest floor, “why would you be mourning now?”

I felt his deft fingers slither around my wrists, encircling them in an instant and pulling the roses and my mutilated fingers from behind my back.

“What is this?” He asked, his glacial eyes meeting mine, fury and hurt evident in them, striking guilt into my heart as I realized his utter disgust. Fear filled my heart at the thought of what he might do, the punishment he may bestow upon me, “why have you taken flowers from my father’s gardens? Why are your hands riddled with these horrid blemishes?”

Shameful tears slipped from my eyes and down my cheeks as I bent my head, eyes finding my feet instantly as Thranduil pulled his silken handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it to the wounds.

“I-I suppose I don’t rightly know,” I conceded, my words growing to a sob as the next words spilled from my lips, “I just thought that if I brought you the roses you cared so much about, they would make you happy. I thought they would make you see how much I care for you, and that I am here for you. I thought I could get you to see that you don’t have to weep to these flowers, but to me, because I love you. I just wanted to make you happy, Thranduil!”

His attempts to staunch the bleeding were put to a halt after my last words had been confessed. I looked up at him, to his eyes, to see what I thought would be vehemence and loathe, but what was rather a soft sorrow and care as he looked from the roses to me, tears blossoming and streaming from his widened eyes as he stared into my own E/C irises.

“Meleth,” I beseeched, my lower lip trembling as the suspense wove its way into my heart, turning all to repine, “please. Say something.”

A loud, innocent wail resounded through the densely wooded forest, strong arms enveloping my waist and pressing my ever closer by the base of my neck as the concealed bone of my lover’s jawline rested upon my shoulder, burying deeply into my H/C locks, the flowers all but forgot as they came to ruin between our now touching frames.

“Y/N,” Thranduil croaked, his tears soaking through my clothing, like the blood at my wrists, staining the skin of my shoulder. My heart shattered in my chest, the glass making up the vessel fracturing in my chest for the final time at the sincerity and woe of the state of which my name was uttered, “my dearly beloved. I am infinitely sorry. I should not have neglected you so, you or the comforts you provide. I did not mean to reduce you to this, and I am so...so sorry, guren vell.”

Silent tears streamed from my eyes and into the pale, silken strands of hair that were gleamed in the moonlight, contrasting with the dark fabric of Thranduil’s robes as I clung to them and the muscular form beneath, hushed sobs causing my body to quiver violently in Thranduil’s arms.

“Y/N,” Thranduil said as he retreated from our embrace, his hands lightly running the length of my arms, following the slope of my shoulders and neck until his gentle fingers encased my cheeks, his thumbs tracing small circles against the soft skin sweetly, the dark sleeves of his outermost robes pooling at his elbows, exposing those of a close fitting black kaftan beneath, “do not weep, my dear, please, do not weep. Your every tear breaks my heart. I beg of you, forgive me, and stay the flow of your tears.”

Once, Thranduil had been the one grasping for words, but now, his apology, his delicate care, and the massive amount of love he harbored for me was leaving me in the same inescapable position, rather than him.

“Thranduil,” I sniffed, my hands grasping at his covered forearms, as if to steady the furious, unsteady, unceasing quaking of my fingers, “oh, Thranduil. You needn’t fret, just as you needn’t ask for forgiveness, these are tears of joy and my mercy... well, it is already yours. That and my love, it is yours and it always will be yours.”

Sterling tears pooled in Thranduil’s lustrous, glacial eyes, as they searched my face for any lie, awe overcoming his features when he found none. The droplets of silver then spilled from those beloved eyes just as sincerely and in the same massive quantity as my own.

My fingers left their post at my beloved’s elbow and found their way to his cheek, smearing the pristine cheeks dry of any hint of the sorrow that his mind and heart were now void of.

“Stay your tears, gornon,” I cooed, pulling the ellon close to me, his arms encircling my smaller form as my hands traveled soothingly up and down his sturdy back, the tense muscles beneath loosening after months of being tense with grief and stress, “I am here now. I am here for you, meleth e-guilen, so dry your tears, and let us return to the comforts of sleep. My bed has grown cold without your warmth and I long for such comforts now.”

“Thank you, Y/N, miluis,” Thranduil murmured, his voice small and almost inaudible, but filled with love, pure and true. He pressed a kiss to the curve of my neck and pulled out of our embrace, allowing me to then weave my fingers delicately in between his.

“Your welcome, Thranduil. You are forever welcome.”

And with that, we left the gardens behind, the dense thickets of shrubbery and hoards of twisted oaks seeming to disappear behind us as we walked under moon and star, leaving the bundle of grief striking blooms, crumpled and ruined and long forgotten, upon the dusty ground.