#crackle🦋

[catsofimperium]

Matthias' Unexpected Guest

Matthias and Grace are written by @caxycreations, while Darian, Sel, and Crackle are written by myself (@moremysteriesthantragedies). We hope you enjoy!

The shack was modest, nothing more than wooden planks carefully built into the shape of a house, a thatch roof covering the simple shaping. The forest was visible in the distance, and the darkness of the night was pierced by the light pouring out from the windows of the small building. The door, made from the same wood as the rest of the shack, was entirely plain. It seemed decoration was not the forte of the craftsman who built it, judging by the total lack of any design work or detailing.

Matthias was inside, testing a new compound he was hoping would serve as a fast-acting numbing agent. While he had plenty of numbing agents at his disposal, many had side effects he would rather avoid, and hoped he could create something new, devoid of those problems. The cot lay bare, no patient at the moment thankfully, and his bed a mess. He hadn't made it yet, and the blankets lay in a wrinkled bundle at the foot of the bed. His ingredient table was covered in opened bottles, various extracts and herbs scattered around it. As he padded from one end of the room to the other, rushing from his chemistry table, currently a mess with splotches and stains from various chemicals, to the ingredients table, his focus was interrupted. He could have sworn he heard a knock at the door, but Grace was not scheduled for a visit today. Shaking his head, he decided to leave it be, and set about continuing his work, desperate to finish his project as quickly as he could.

The cat outside, an orange colored Molten in protective, black gear, decided to keep trying his luck with the door. His first knock was rather meek, he would confess, and it didn't help that the gloves on his paws muffled the sound a little. So, with a deep breath that caused the glass of his helmet to fog, he gave the door another, louder knock.

"H-hello, is anyone home?" Crackle asked, a slight shake in his voice. The voice at the door breaking Matthias' trance, the old Lucern rushed to the door and threw it open, expecting a patient or a lost traveler. Seeing the Molten before him, he squinted a little, gears turning for a moment as he realized who it was. The suit and the anxious expression were a dead giveaway. He smiled softly, relaxing a little and stepping back, giving the cat room to enter.

"Welcome, welcome, come in, please. You're Crackle, aren't you? Grace's friend? She's told me about you. What brings you by the shack?" He asked, voice soft and calm despite his mind jumping from the progress on his chemistry and the Molten entering his home.

Crackle looked around, ears going down at the largely wooden stucture, despite having his suit on. He took a moment to take in his surroundings before answering, eyes widening when he realized he'd gone quiet.

"That's right. I just came to look for Grace. Is she in?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. If Grace was in, he would have known in a second, quite used to the hyperactive cat at this point. However, the house was rather peaceful. Crackle suspected that, if she were in, she'd have to be having an off day.

The Lucern shook his head, padding over to the chemistry set to check the progress, watching the chemicals adjusting to each other. "No, I'm afraid Grace is away at the moment. She's not scheduled a visit for another two days. She has a patient of her own she's keeping an eye on at the moment. I received the letter yesterday." He turned to face Crackle, satisfied with the progress of his work. Sitting in front of the Molten, he cocked his head to the side.

"You look uneasy. Is everything alright? I may not be Grace, but I understand you are a friend to her, and if there's something I can do to help then I will gladly try." Crackle watched Matthias' work, his expression a mixture of impressed and intimidated. At the news he hung his head down, taking a few steps back.

"Oh, that's okay. I wouldn't want to be a bother, so," Crackle said, his mind making up a million excuses for how to leave the situation. Would Darian go along with it if Crackle said Darian needed him? There was always Sel, who didn't talk, though Crackle hardly wanted to abuse that fact.

So, instead, he was left watching Matthias with downturned features. Matthias didn't hesitate, he simply closed his eyes, smiled, and when he opened them his expression was gentle and patient. "It would never be a bother. I'm a doctor, helping is my purpose. What is it, and how can I help?" He could see that putting too much pressure might scare them away, and given what Grace had told him, simply letting it go was hardly an option either. He shifted, shoulders going lax and tail idly swaying in a comfortable way, hoping his guest would feel more at ease, seeing he was too.

"Well, it's just," Crackle began, sitting down though he remained close to the door, "I think I've been causing a lot of problems for Darian lately. And just everyone in general, seeing the way I am." Crackle's ears went down, tail thudding onto the floor. "I know you probably know what I mean. I'm not exactly the caretaker you are, Matthias. I'd like to be but, it's not in my nature really." 

Looking over the Molten, Matthias took in every detail of his suit, and the body beneath it. He had never met a Molten in person before, and seeing the precaution needed just to stand in his home left him feeling sorry for the cat. He stood, padding over to Crackle and examining the suit a little more closely. He wanted to take in every detail, every effort to protect his surroundings. 

"My friend, I would say you very much are the caretaker I am. You wear this suit to protect what is around you, don't you? It would be far easier to simply go without it. I can't imagine it's easy to get on, or off, or to wear all the time. You do it because you care, and because you want to see things safe."

The Lucern placed a paw on Crackle's shoulder, sitting beside him now. "You care very much about things, don't you? Well, the body is only one piece of the puzzle, and you've taken steps to prevent any harm your heat may cause. I'd say that makes you as much a caretaker as ever there was."

Crackle flinched back at the look, though did nothing to hide the state he was in. The suit which stopped him from feeling the world around him, that only he and he alone could wear, seeing those around him through a filter of glass. 

"I didn't even know such suits existed before I met Darian. When I arrived in the capital, the first thing I did was kill a butterfly. It was such a beautiful thing. It hadn't done anything to me, and, within seconds, I just...I just burned it," Crackle said, sniffling. His head, already hung quite low, hung even lower.

He regarded the Lucern's paw, not seeming quite used to touch judging by the surprised fizzling of his lava. "I don't know, Matthias. I have a hard time believing there are other cats like me. They don't even know who my family was, where I truly came from. Maybe I'm just cursed or something."

Matthias felt his heart crack at those words. He knew all too well how it could feel to believe you were cursed. He'd been made to feel that way by many, and moved here for that very reason. He thought for a moment, parsing his words in his head before settling on how best to say it.

"Did you know the first time Grace came to visit, she got so excited she burst the lights? I hadn't yet installed the lightning rod, or the system beneath the shack she charges when she uses it. She was so happy that I had taken her as an apprentice that she quite literally electrocuted my house."

He laughed a little, remembering the young Weather apologizing profusely even as the smell of singed copper filled the air. "And now, we've taken that destructive potential and turned it into something beautiful. Her outbursts and her, admittedly dangerous, power is the sole reason I have such reliable light. Your lava, your heat, yes it is capable of destruction. But it is also capable of much, much more."

Matthias thought for but a moment before smiling. "You could serve as a light in the darkness, that beautiful glow of your magma shining for all to see. You could aid in forestry, burning away the sick groves to protect the healthy ones, and paving the way for new, healthier life to flourish there. You could forge the most beautiful works of glass art, your paws perfect for molding it to the shape you desire like an artist does to clay."

He took hold of Crackle's paw gently, lifting it up. "These paws are capable of incredible things. Did you know one of the most important steps in healing a wound is cauterizing it, in many cases? It burns away any bad germs, seals it to prevent infection. With heat like yours, and the practice to achieve it, you could cauterize injury with hundreds of times the precision my best tools offer, and far less difficulty in maintaining the temperature."

He sighed softly, his voice lowering again. "You have an immense burden...But there is much good you could use this for. And I for one see beauty in the glow. I am accustomed to darkness, to the night. The sun is harsh, and unforgiving. But you bring with you the light of day, in the gentlest way."

The Molten's eyes were glued onto Matthias with the story, back arching as Matthias explained what had happened. "W-were you both okay?" Crackle asked worriedly before nodding along. He stayed silent as Matthias listed off all the possibilities, mind beginning to wander with them. The image of himself being happy, helping others in his own special way was certainly one that warmed his already heated heart, managing a smile.

However, after a moment, Crackle's expression dropped. He shook his head with the flick of his tail, a sigh threatening to escape his lips, though he held it back for the sake of his vision. To think, for a moment, he ever expected he'd have the delicate paw for art or forest management. 

"Those things sound great and all, but I couldn't do them without risking burning someone or something I love," Crackle said, looking away, "Thank you for trying Matthias but I just...I don't think I can trust my lava to do any of that."

The Lucern's ears drooped for a moment, folding back as he saw the joy fade from Crackle's face. He nodded and, after a moment, found his voice again. "Life is very long, Crackle. For some..." His thoughts flashed to the Goddess, and her many acts of cruelty. "...For some, it's too long. And for others, far too short." His mind was suddenly filled with memories of patients he had failed, thoughts he shook away quickly.

"You are capable of amazing things. And while you may not have the precision or the control for them right now, no skill comes without trying. And when you are capable of the kinds of things you are, the kinds of things even Grace is, it's important you learn to channel those natural talents, those natural abilities, into a skill you can use."

He stood, making his way to his chemistry set and picking up an empty bottle, then turning for the door. "Care to come with me? I would like to try something, if you're willing to help me with an experiment? One only you can assist with, my friend." Crackle tilted his head, detecting a hint of bitterness in the Lucern's voice, though towards who, the Molten wasn't quite certain. However, he let Matthias continue without interrupting, listening carefully to his words. In his mind, if anyone could judge him, it was someone as caring and giving as Matthias.

"Yeah, that's what Darian keeps saying. He doesn't seem afraid of my lava," Crackle said, finally letting out that sigh, "Well, he says that, but, he's the first to try to fly away when things get even a little out of paw. It freaked him out so much once that he broke his wing trying to flee." Crackle rubbed one of his front legs self conciously. 

However, he perked up at the offer, standing. "Um, I suppose I could try," he said, preparing to follow Matthias to wherever the Lucern might lead him. Matthias chuckled, remembering a short visit he had from one Sel, who had been with the very Darian that Crackle referred to. He thought back to the other Lucern, and recalled his thoughts on the cat.

"Darian is...a coward." He said, bluntly. "His heart seems to be in the right place, and I've no doubt he would do great things if given the opportunity, but I sense a spark of fear in him. He's quite self-preserving, beyond most others." He left the building, Crackle trailing behind him. Matthias knew of a place nearby, perfectly suited to his current goal.

"I often find myself in need of a mortar and pestle, in my line of work. While I've got the tools, they often leave residue and are quite difficult to clean. I could order something special, but I'm afraid my coffers are too light to afford such things. And given your unique abilities, I had an idea I would like to try."

He stopped as he found his destination, a mid-sized area of dead grass. "I mentioned Grace's mishap, yes? Well, I did have to move, after that. The shack was damaged quite heavily from the outburst, and needed to be rebuilt. I wasn't happy with how far from the forest I was, so I had it rebuilt closer. This..." He gestured to the area around them, "...is where it used to be. The grass here has been dead for some time, which means..."

He smiled, placing the glass bottle aside and using his paws to dig and till at the ground for a few moments, pulling away the dried plants and creating a circle of dirt. "No harm to be done by removing it. And with the grass out of the way, and nothing but dirt beneath us, you should be safe to uncover your paws, yes? After all, dirt, when heated to that temperature, is not going to be a problem. Even if so, I do have my duster to put out any fires before they become an issue. Don't worry about the fabric, it's seen worse than a few small grass fires, I assure you."

"He...is," Crackle admitted of Darian after a moment, "But, I can't hate him for it. He's just like me, after all. And, he can be oddly brave around me. He gives me wing hugs from time to time, even if only his wings can withstand my lava, and he sleeps in the same bed as me if I have nightmares. I don't know, Darian is confusing."

Crackle followed Matthias, taking in his surroundings curiously but trying not to be too impatient as he was led along. He tilted his head at what Matthias said, wondering if Matthias wanted Crackle to clean those for him. He wasn't entirely confident he could without melting their surfaces.

However, he relaxed at seeing the already dead grass, almost amazed by the scope of it. He went in a circle to see it fully, his helmet impeding his vision from the sides. That was one of the many reasons he hated the thing. He looked at the glass bottle, biting his lip at Matthias' suggestion. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to try," he said, looking down at his paws. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.

After a moment, he took off his gloves, revealing his paws in all their boiling orange and yellow glory. It was nice to feel the dirt beneath his paws, it had been a while since he'd felt anything like that. Seeing him willing to try made Matthias' heart swell a little. He was happy to see Crackle open to the ideas he was presenting, even if cautiously.

He picked up the bottle again, and placed it in front of Crackle. "I want you to try and make a bowl out of this. Don't worry if it's not perfect, it doesn't need to be. Just high edges, and roughly-bowl shaped. So long as it's wider than it is tall, but not a flat plate." He stepped back a little, not out of fear but rather simply giving the Molten his space. "Simply do your best, and don't stress too heavily over the details."

He sat, his tail idly swaying behind him in calm, slow motions. Whether or not Crackle managed to make it into what he was after, it would be a good way to show him the potential he had in a field of creation, and Matthias hoped that would help him see past his potential in the field of destruction.

"Y-you want me to make that into a bowl?" Crackle asked, voice rising at the end. He looked between the glass and Matthias, wanting to ensure the cat was being serious before making an attempt. When it did appear he was in fact, serious, Crackle swallowed. He sat down in front of the glass, taking it in. 

In Crackle's mind's eye, he could imagine the structure being melted down into a bowl, of course. Its neck would just have to be condensed down to make way for its circular underbelly. But, imagining it and actually doing it were two seperate things entirely, Crackle's paws were slow to reach for the bottle and touch said neck. At first he accidentally applied too much pressure, melting it with a nervous chuckle.

However, and after a moment, he decided to use his claws, slowly chipping away at it and attempting to widen its edges until he was left with...something. It wasn't neccessarily a bowl, more of a pot due to its strange rim, but it was something nonetheless. Crackle scratched the back of his neck, turning to Matthias bashfully. 

Matthias smiled encouragingly, having watched his process as carefully as he would examine a patient, and when the Molten finished working, the Lucern approached the glass to look it over in finer detail. Careful not to touch it due to the temperature, he looked it over as much as he could. He could certainly see where Crackle had been going with it, and while it wasn't quite the bowl he had been going for, it was still a very good shape for what Matthias was hoping to use it for.

"It's not quite professional, and it's a bit rough around the edges..." He said with a smile, raising up again to look Crackle in the eyes. "But it's perfect for what I'll be using it for. It's got the right shaping, it's deep enough, and come to think of it, that rim will actually be helpful. I can set it in a flask carrier and won't have to worry about it jostling around when I'm trying to work with it."

He smiled proudly at the Molten and looked back to the glass between them. "Now I just need to wait for it to cool, and it'll be perfectly good to use as a mortar. The bottom is curved enough to roll freely when needed, and the rim is good for locking in place with a carrier. Thank you, Crackle. You've done a fine job."

Crackle's cheeks showed off their more yellow hues at all of Matthias' compliments. "T-that's alright, you don't have to spare my feelings, I know it's bad," he said, snout furrowing as he took in the glass piece, "But I understand what you meant by it." He let his paw unfurl on the dirt, feeling its smooth texture and closing his eyes for a moment.

"I could probably do a lot with my abilities if I tried. It's just intimidating is all. Without my suit, the moment I'm not paying attention something bad could happen. While I'm closing my eyes now, some unknowing creature could run up and get themselves burned." The Molten winced at the thought, opening his eyes and searching for his gloves. When he found them, he reluctantly slipped them on.

"I might be able to create beautiful art, but I'll never be able to touch the things I make that art of or for. The people, the creatures, the scenery," Crackle said with a contemplative look in his eyes as he looked up into the night sky, "I'll do it if you think it will help others. But still, my body is...it's isolating."

Matthias nodded, and after a careful, exploratory touch, deemed the glass safe and picked it up with his tail before facing Crackle again. "There may be a way to allow you to touch things one day, you know. Your body is different, yes, and there are complications that come with that. But just because no way currently exists does not mean it never will. You know, I make a habit of discovering new things every night. If you would be so kind, I would be grateful to have the chance to study you, your magma, and see if I might find a way to allow you to experience those things safely."

He began walking back towards his shack, stopping to ensure Crackle was following. "You know, one of the reasons I chose to live here is because the creatures you might find are all within the forest. These fields, lush though they are, have little in the way of fauna. I believe you would find little reason to fear causing damage here. Even should my shack burn, there is nothing in it that I cannot replace. My notes, my ingredients, they are only things. Material. I have everything important in here." He tapped the side of his head with a paw before continuing.

"So please, do not worry about unexpected creatures or the odd flame here and there. So long as you are in my territory, I will help you manage it as best as I am able."

Crackle listened, tail wrapping around his legs as he stood. "That'd be great, but I don't know. I'd have to ask Darian." His back foot scratched his ankle in thought. "Whether he'll have a positive or negative reaction to that idea is kind of a shot in the dark. You know how he is."

Crackle followed Matthias, fully suited once more though still being careful with his steps. "Thank you, that's reassuring. But I promise not to put your research at risk. I can tell how hard you work on it, and I wouldn't want to stop you from helping other cats as well. I really admire all you and Grace do. I can't imagine it's always easy at times." Crackle managed a smile. "Thank you, Matthias, again. It means a lot."

Hearing that, Matthias perked up a little and, as the pair reached his home and went inside, he closed the door behind Crackle. "Would you like to stay a while longer? I know you came here to see Grace, so if you would rather return home I won't keep you. But I want you to know my door is always open to you, understand?" He smiled at the Molten, grateful to have had a chance to meet him properly.

Before Crackle could answer, there was the sound of wings from outside. Crackle peered out the nearest window to see the familiar sight of a black Maine Coon, his bat wings glowing white as he landed outside of the cabin. Crackle made eye contact with the Lucern, before Darian came to the door and knocked.

Matthias heard the beat of wings, familiar to his ears. Given the hour, and his current guest, he could assume who was knocking. Opening the door, he looked out with a rather neutral, if ever-so-slightly unhappy expression. He made no move to clear the doorway, raising an eyebrow at the new visitor.

"Darian." He said flatly, wholly unimpressed with the intrusion. Crackle had been a welcome surprise, a friend of Grace and someone he had been looking forward to meeting as is. Darian was one he already knew somewhat, and had little intention of welcoming him into his home without necessity.

"Matthias," Darian said, matching his tone. He was a cat with a rather strict demenear, the glasses on his snout shining as he looked behind Matthias. Spotting the orange glow there, Darian stood up straight once more. "Can I assume Crackle is in there with you?" Before Matthias could answer, he was all but shoved out of the way by an excitable, though thankfully still armored, Molten.

"Darian, Darian! Guess what, guess what!" Crackle said and Darian looked down, the hint of a smile on his face. "Yes? What is it, Crackle?" asked the Lucern. "Matthias taught me how to use my lava to mold glass! I made a bowl! Or um, a pot, or, well, it's something but I made it!" Crackle said, smiling wider than Matthias had ever seen him. Darian's eyes almost seemed to soften before looking back at Matthias. "Is this true?"

Matthias, recovering from the sudden push, chuckled at the Molten's excitement. It was a far cry from the sad demeanor he had seen when he first opened his door to the young cat. With a nod, and a quick adjustment of his duster, he looked at Darian, his own expression a mixture of his pride in Crackle and his less-than-favorable opinion of the other Lucern. One he swallowed now, not wanting to cause any trouble with Crackle. He smiled, a genuine smile, and nodded again.

"It is. I took him to a small patch of dirt, where he could safely remove his gloves without fear of burning anything, and asked him to try making a bowl. He did quite well, for a first attempt." He said, moving his tail, holding the bowl in it and placing it between them for Darian to inspect. "It may be a little rough around the edges, but he has potential, should he decide to pursue it."

Darian kept studying Matthias, as if he didn't fully trust the other Lucern. Yet, if this were the case, he did not let this opinion be known, simply nodding along to his words. "I see. I am glad to see him putting his abilities to good use. I'll confess, I haven't been much help in that department. So, while this is rough around edges, it does appear to be a good start. Besides," a smirk graced its way onto Darian's lips, "I'm just impressed he didn't accidentally make it into a butterfly with how much his mind obsesses over the things."

Crackle gasped, ears and tail jutting up. "I could make glass butterflies?" he asked, looking between the two with pleading eyes. "If you tried, I suppose," Darian said and, despite his lack of enthusiasm, this seemed to make Crackle giddy. His tail wagged in excitement, and his lava gurgled a little. Yet, the Molten soon contained this when he remembered, pausing.  "Oh, that's right. Darian, we have something to ask you." Darian tilted his head, eyes narrowing with a "hm?" 

Matthias stepped forward a little, taking his cue to jump in. "I would like to help Crackle hone his skills, and find positive ways to use his natural heat. Something constructive, something he finds joy in doing. I would also like to study him, nothing invasive, but I intend to look into ways of allowing him to experience the world a tad more directly, rather than being confined to that suit. I would take all necessary precautions, and full responsibility of any incidents that may happen. But I feel I would be remiss if I did not at least try to aid in improving Crackle's quality of life."

He locked eyes with the other Lucern, a silent challenge. He would leave the final decision to Crackle, and had no intent of allowing Darian to make that decision for the Molten. He had chosen his words carefully. To turn down the offer would be taking away the autonomy Crackle had in this choice. It would be a refusal of opportunity to better things for him. Matthias didn't know Darian very well, that much was true.

But he knew him well enough to know Darian would be in a very difficult position, morally, to refuse the offer Matthias had given. If Crackle chose to turn it down, or changed his mind on it later, he would respect that fully. But he couldn't help but want to see how Darian handled being backed into a moral corner like this.

Darian stared at Matthias, before turning to Crackle. "Crackle, sweetheart, could you wait outside for a moment? I need to talk to Matthias about something." Crackle's ears went down and his tail sunk, but he nodded.

"Okay," Crackle said, walking out the door hesitantly. He looked back before closing it behind him, giving Matthias an apologetic look for the lecture he was certain Darian would provide. Darian watched, before letting out a breath of relief and turning to Matthias. Despite his previous demeanor, he seemed almost hesitant. After a moment, however, he let his rustling wings relax. 

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but, you looking into the little Molten may actually prove...helpful," Darian said, lip pulling up as if the very word caused him disgust, "However, it is for this very reason that I must advice you use extra caution." Darian's expression became dead serious, looking Matthias straight in the eyes. 

Matthias smiled, sincerely happy Darian had met his challenge, and risen to the occasion. He nodded, gesturing to the lightning rod near the back of the cottage. "I work with a very, very volatile Weather on a daily basis. I am used to taking precautions. Crackle will be in good paws, I assure you. I will take every possible step to ensure my safety, and twice that many for his." 

The doctor raised his head high, already thinking of the ways he could look into Crackle's physiology safely, and as he returned his focus to Darian, he let out a soft sigh. "I am quite happy to see he's in capable paws, truthfully. I can tell you have his best interests at heart, and in the spirit of honesty I was somewhat concerned of that. But I should have expected better of you, I will admit. Sel's affections should have been indication enough of your character."

Matthias did feel somewhat bad for having tested Darian, but did not regret doing so. "If you would like, you are welcome to join Crackle any time he comes to visit, if you would like to keep tabs on our progress." He spoke from the heart, and while he was not happy to open his home to the other Lucern, he did so for the young Molten waiting outside, and for his comfort he would bar no aid.

Darian's wings folded tightly against his body, that reluctance reappearing in his eyes. "Yes, but that is when you know what you're working with. Crackle is a different story." Darian peered out the window, looking at the Molten that was pacing outside. "The Goddess' forces found Crackle abandoned in The Wastes of Salvos. There were no signs of his parents or his origins. The cats of that kingdom refused to claim him, and none of them knew anything about his parents. Or if they did, they refused to speak on the matter." Darian turned back to Matthias with sharp eyes. "Outwardly, Crackle is a Molten, but, that's as far as we know. Which is why I advise you to use as much caution as you can muster, but, also believe your expertise on this matter would be invaluable."

Darian turned away, flicking his tail with a dismissive huff. "Sel is strong enough to be afforded bad tastes, I would not judge my character based off Sel's mercy," Darian said, his words always spoken with careful pronuncation. "But yes, I only want what is best for Crackle. It is the duty I have been assigned, and I plan to go through with that duty so long as there is a need for it."

Darian looked back at Matthias. "I will entrust this in your paws. In truth, because of the reasons I have stated, I have not been permitted to go very far with his training. Giving the responsibility to an expert is a good excuse for Crackle to be given the care he needs. I should not extend my involvement beyond that. Crackle appears to like you, with a gentle touch you will do just fine." Worry flashed on Darian's face, though his expression was soon pulled back to its usual stoic mask. 

Matthias noted the flash of emotion, and how quickly Darian hid it. He chuckled, nodding. "I assure you, all will be well. I'll do my best for his benefit. You needn't worry, I'll take care of him. And, if it comforts you, I'll keep it between us that you may actually care." He said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, his tone light and playful. While Darian may wear a mask of indifference and professionalism, Matthias, who was used to wearing that same mask when working on a patient, was beginning to see the eyes behind it.

He glanced to the door and gestured to it. "Care to let our friend inside again?"

Darian huffed at that, turning the other cheek. "You may. Oh, but, please do not tell him what I told you. About his origins, that is. I wouldn't want Crackle to feel...rejected, let's say. I would rather tell him myself once I've found some answers to those cats strange behavior," Darian said, keeping a close eye on Matthias before opening the door. "Crackle, you may come in now."

"Well?" Crackle asked, looking between the two. He sat down, crunching up as he prepared for the worst. "I accepted. Just, please be careful," Darian glared at Matthias, "And, if I hear even so much as a whisper of you having Crackle just look towards the general direction of The Dead End, this will be over." Darian's tail had become puffed at the name, taking a quiet breath to calm it. Crackle pranced on his paws happily, nudging Darian with his helmet. "Thank you, thank you!" he said yet, Darian didn't seem to being paying attention. Instead, he just stared out the window, frame shrinking. 

Matthias nodded, smiling softly. "I will keep Crackle away from the forest, you have my word. Just because I spend my nights within its trees does not mean I would ever ask it of anyone else." With that, he looked to Crackle and gave him a wink. "Now that His Regal Stuffiness has agreed to allow us regular visits, I do believe it's time to go. I am sure Darian is ready to get home, and I do still have my work to check on."

He placed a paw on Crackle's back and rubbed gently, hoping some of the affection would be felt through the suit as he looked at the young Molten. "I would appreciate it greatly if you would return tomorrow night, if you are able. In the meantime, be sure and think of some things you might like to make, alright? I have more glass than I know what to do with here, so anything you wish to try, we have plenty of material to play with."

"Right, sorry to take so much of your time. And I'll be there," Crackle said with a polite smile. He then turned to Darian, realizing the other cat was concentrated on something else. Darian just kept staring out into the woods, Crackle about to ask why, though his attention was soon pulled back to Matthias. "Butterflies!" The Molten sunk back in embarrasement at his sudden enthusiasm. "Um...I'll think of more things soon, I promise. Come on Darian, we should get back." Darian's ears didn't so much as move at Crackle's voice, just pointed forward. 

A thought came to Crackle and he giggled to himself. He stepped closer to Darian, letting his lava boil in his suit loud enough to be heard through the fabric. The sound made Darian's eyes widen, leaping back as his instincts kicked in. "Eck!" Darian exclaimed, back arched as he searched around for the danger. When he understood what happened, his body relaxed and he sighed. "Crackle," he said, eyes narrowing but Crackle just shrugged. 

"You were staring off into the distance again. Come on, shouldn't we go back home? It is pretty late," Crackle said and Darian shook his head, forcing his eyes shut for a moment. "Of course. Come along Crackle." Darian moved to exit the house, keeping his eyes to the ground and avoiding the window. Crackle frowned at this, but remained silent.

Matthias smiled, watching them go and, with a final wave to Crackle, he shut his door. Resigning himself to testing the numbing agent on a paw, he sat in front of his chemistry table and lifted the now-settled bottle from the metal arm affixed to the rotation axle. A drop onto one of the pads of his left paw, and he quickly regretted his decision.

With a wince and a sigh, he rolled his eyes. "That's what I get for using bristleweed. Alright...Back to the drawing board." With his paw now stinging and irritated, he set about bandaging it up and wondering what to do about the numbing agent, thoughts slowly shifting to his newest project, and one far more important.

He looked forward to Crackle's next visit. With a new determination, he smiled, leaving his home and heading for the forest with a purpose in mind, ready to spend the night, and the entire next day if need be, preparing for his next encounter with the sweet little Molten.

[twstbookclub]

Sharp Teeth, Tough Love

Summary: You caught Floyd's interest the moment fire and chaos erupted in the Mirror Chamber. One chance meeting gave you the nickname Shrimpy, and another left Floyd sinking deeper into the depths. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Romance, Angst, No happy ending, sorry folks, Floyd Being Floyd, Slow Burn, Minor ADeuce and Grim Shenanigans again, Unrequited Feelings, Floyd's POV (I hope yall remember whose nickname belongs to who) Word Count: 3, 044 If yall needed to know, I wrote this on the same day I wrote the Riddle fic. My brain is spent on these two, and I couldn't be any happier. I wish I could end this another way, though. Poor terrifying and violent Floyd. One thing to note, it's really fascinating how he only calls someone by name if he really respected them. Also, if yall catch that reference to one of Floyd's lesson chats, I will love you forever. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy again 💕

Floyd could never forget the first time he saw you.

Your face was twisted into a flabbergasted frown, mingled with distress, confusion, and exasperation. The cat monster—he’ll call it Baby Seal since its tiny height and gray fur reminded him of one—ran amok and spewed fire everywhere. Kalim’s screams rang in the air, followed by Crowley’s indignant shouts. He watched the chaos unfold with intrigued eyes and a widening grin, revealing sharp teeth and a thirst for more wreckage.

Amidst the smoke that billowed and swirled in the Mirror Chamber, you stood in the middle of it. The harsh glow of the fire pierced Floyd’s eyes, but all he saw was your silhouette surrounded by dying embers and crackling flames. Just as his gaze landed on you, your head swiveled around to look back at him. As if some invisible force compelled you to find the eyes that burned into your figure.

He wanted to see you again.

The next time he saw you, you were with Baby Seal and those two freshmen in Heartslabyul: Crabby and Little Mackerel. Even Goldfish and Sea Bream were with you. The six of you lurked in the courtyard, as if trying to spy on something. Whatever you were doing, it caught his attention.

“Careful, Floyd,” Jade simpered after he followed his brother’s line of sight, “don’t scare the fish away.”

Of course, Jade already knew what Floyd was thinking with one look. There was a reason why they chose each other and survived the coldest, harshest waters.

“Yeah, yeah.” Floyd flippantly waved away Jade’s words with a languid grin, before he snuck on the group. It was laughable, how they didn’t notice his tall and gangly figure slink in front of them. The six students spoke in hushed whispers, too engrossed in their conversation to see the shadow that loomed over them. His eyes roamed each freshman, checking the fresh meat, but they lingered on you.

You looked so small, and he had to tilt his head down to see your eyes. Back then, during the entrance ceremony, you hunched over as if to curl into yourself. Small and weak and afraid.

Floyd’s lips stretched from one ear to the other. He’ll call you Shrimpy.

“Oh ho ho! What is up, Lil’ Goldfish?”

Goldfish jumped, sputtering and floundering like a fish caught by its prey. The rest showed varying degrees of surprise. Sea Bream’s smile became strained, and Floyd could see the junior sweat a little. Crabby flinched, while Little Mackerel took a step back with wide eyes. His fists were raised to his chest, and Floyd’s eyes narrowed at that.

Huh, one of them was ready for a fight. Interesting.

His attention shifted to you, wide eyes fluttering in disbelief. You craned your neck to look up at him with parted lips. As Floyd engaged Goldfish in a conversation more like interrogation, he felt like he was floating. It’s as if he could run around the track field without breaking a sweat from the look you gave him.

He wanted to see more of that. He wanted to see you more.

Your gaze drifted to Jade, and you froze. Floyd brushed it off as fear. That was how people usually reacted to them, anyway. It was nothing new. He focused on the conversation with Goldfish without sparing your reaction another thought.

One sunny day, a few days after that chance meeting, Floyd saw you in the courtyard again. You were with Baby Seal—he always was—along with Crabby and Little Mackerel. The latter two stood in front of you, who sat on the edge of the fountain. Baby Seal was standing next to you with this annoyed look. Meanwhile, the Leech brother was lounging on the grass. Alchemy class bored him, so he decided to skip and bathe in the sunlight on the courtyard.

None of them seemed to notice him. Floyd watched, still bored out of his mind. He was debating on whether to spook the group or otherwise, when he heard you laugh.

You tilted your head back, letting the sun illuminate the smile on your face. It was a toothy grin, one that crinkled your eyes and emphasized the chub of your cheeks. He barely saw the color of your irises, and your unrestrained laugh echoed in the desolate courtyard. You even snorted.

You tilted your head back so much that you tipped over and fell into the fountain with a loud splash. Floyd snickered, ignoring the warmth in his chest and the flutter of his heart. Howling laughter followed your fall. Crabby clutched his stomach and doubled over. Little Mackerel held back a smile as he flailed, unsure of how to help you, in front of the fountain. Baby Seal was laughing his ass off, belly flopping on the edge of the fountain.

He decided to stand from his spot and help you, since the entire thing entertained him. Although, when he stood tall and took a step towards the fountain, he paused. You were drenched in water, from the top of your head to the tip of your leather shoes. Locks of hair stuck to your forehead and cheeks. Your uniform clung to your skin, and it looked uncomfortable. Despite all that, your smile remained.

“You assholes!” You laughed with a loud wheeze, happy and carefree with that toothy and blinding grin. He could clearly hear you laugh and sputter, even with Crabby’s and Baby Seal’s loud snickers and laughter. As he watched Little Mackerel help you—and fail, because you slipped back into the fountain—a thought nagged at his mind. 

What should I do to make Shrimpy laugh like that again?

“Hey, Shrimpy!” Floyd chirped, grin too wide and sharp to be considered friendly. Little Mackerel and Crabby stepped back, as the sophomore grabbed your arm and tugged you out of the fountain. Your hand shot out to grip the edge, while you stood from the water.

“Need a lil’ help?”

“Oh merciful Seven—” Floyd pretended not to notice how your vocabulary changed in just a few months— “thanks, but how much did you see?”

The fact that you nonchalantly accepted his help, that you didn’t flinch from him, made Floyd’s heart do somersaults and cartwheels. The corners of his lips stretched towards his ears. He squeezed your arm and watched you step out of the fountain.

Water dripped from your uniform, and Floyd observed the droplets fall from your hair and fingertips. He briefly wondered what you’d look like if he dragged you into the sea. Would you be surprised? Would you scream?

Would you laugh and call him an asshole, like what you did earlier?

“What answer do you wanna hear, Shrimpy?” He teased, still grinning and holding your arm. For some reason, Floyd didn’t want to let go.

“The one that doesn’t embarrass me, thanks.” You chuckled, despite the other three freshmen being silent spectators of this interaction. As you thanked him again and flicked the water off your hands, Floyd couldn’t help but grin wider.

Another month passed. After that admittedly hilarious outburst from Azul, you became a regular at Mostro Lounge. You visited during the weekends, even if you were wary at first. You fell into a routine, just as fast as how you picked up on the lingo in Twisted Wonderland.

You walked in during the weekends and stayed for as long as an hour and thirty minutes. (Yes, Floyd kept count.) You’d talk to either Jade or himself, depending on whoever was waiting tables at the time. Azul passed by at times to make sure you were having a good time, obviously to maintain Mostro Lounge’s good reputation. After a few visits, Floyd began to monopolize your attention by literally taking over server duty during the days you visited.

Even if he had to subtly threaten Azul with profit loss via property destruction and sabotage.

“Hey Shrimpy,” Floyd drawled, sitting across from you in one of the booths. It was a slow day today, and all you ordered was a fruit shake. A history book was opened to some page Floyd didn’t care to know. Notes littered your table, and your penmanship occupied his attention a little.

That was, until he grew bored of the sounds of pen scratching paper and the clinking dishes in Mostro Lounge.

“Hm? Yeah, Floyd?” You asked, flipping a page and jotting down something on your notebook. The tall merman pouted, before he reached over and snapped your book shut. Before you could even react, he snatched it away and lifted it far from you.

“I’m boooored. C’mon, play with me!”

Floyd grinned when you stuttered and glared at him. Your reactions always amused him, moreso whenever you were irritated or angry. Something about the way your brows furrowed and your nose scrunched made him want to tease you more. When you began to flail your arms and make animated gestures, that was when he knew you were really fed up.

“You—” You sighed and stood up, trying to reach for the book. Floyd only lifted it higher, and he didn’t even need to stand up. The corner of his lips twitched, while he watched you struggle and stretch to snatch the book back.

“Floyd, give it back! Please? I promise I’ll—”

There was a reason why he always tried to annoy you. You’d always promise him something in the end: treat him to lunch, hang out with him in the Lounge, watch his basketball matches (even if you were there for Crabby, too). It was the only way he could spend time with you without outright asking for it.

Floyd wasn’t an idiot. He knew he liked you, and it all began with that incident involving the fountain. Even Jade pointed out the many times Floyd’s face lit up every time you were around. He couldn’t ignore how much his heart pitter-pattered every time he saw you. He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t grinning every time he caught sight of you. The way his name rolled off your tongue made him giddy enough to want to throw you over his shoulder and skip class with you.

If he had a choice, he’d drag you to the deepest parts of the sea and keep you to himself.

The book was plucked out of his hand, but your own hands were empty. You owlishly blinked, and so did Floyd. Both of you stilled, until another voice broke through the quiet hustle and bustle of the Lounge.

“It’s not nice to play with the food in front of you, Floyd.” Jade smiled, the kind he usually wore that fooled anyone into thinking he was the safer option between the two brothers. It was still funny to Floyd how everyone gravitated towards Jade, only to realize the jagged teeth behind that fake smile of his.

You took your book from Jade with an awkward smile. “Ah, thanks, even if you said something subtly backhanded…”

“It’s my pleasure, Prefect,” Jade answered, his smile never wavering in that moment. Careful hands gripped the book and slipped it off his gloved one.

Without missing a beat, you set the book aside and asked, “How are you then, Jade? You and Floyd are usually together, but I haven’t seen you in a while.”

The book remained shut, as if you weren’t trying to get it back from Floyd to study earlier. The lazy smile he had dropped into a thin line. His eyes drooped as he watched the conversation between you and his brother. On the other hand, Jade still wore that perfected smile of his with a hand over his heart.

“I’ve been doing fine. Thank you for asking.” Jade hummed before adding, “I found this lovely new specimen—another species of fungi—while on a hike recently. You were interested in mountain hiking and foraging, am I correct?”

“Oh, yeah.” You laughed, light like tinkling bells. It was a stark contrast to the boisterous laugh you usually had. Floyd’s chest tightened, and his hands clenched into fists under the table.

Letting your laughter die down, you continued with a smile, “Can I join you next time? If not that, you have terrariums, right? Can I see them some time?”

Your smile was small and practiced. Whenever you smiled, it was always toothy and the corners pushed your cheeks up. Now, it reminded Floyd of a prissy princess who had been sheltered all her life. You smiled like a noble that faced the aristocrats in hopes of a good impression. You smiled like the guests his parents had, trying to curry their favor, while he and Jade grew up.

You solely focused on his brother, as if Floyd wasn’t sitting right in front of you for the last hour. Your book and notes laid forgotten on the table. Condensed droplets began to drip from the glass, and the fruit shake was forgotten as well. Even when the edge of one of your transcripts became wet, you didn’t bother moving it away from the glass.

Floyd wasn’t an idiot. Of course, he wasn’t.

His eyes flitted towards the smile you had, softened with an emotion he didn’t want to see. Your own eyes appeared brighter, livelier than whenever you were with him. Even when you sat down, your body was angled towards Jade as you leaned on the table with crossed arms.

His mood soured in that instant, and the pitter-patter of his heart dulled into silence.

Floyd scowled, standing from the booth and shoving his hands in his pockets. You jumped a little, while Jade watched him with that carefully crafted smile. He didn’t bother explaining himself. Jade knew already, and he didn’t owe you anything. You’d only take this as Floyd sulking because his brother ruined his fun.

“Whatever,” he mumbled and trudged out of the restaurant with an air of annoyance. Everyone who happened to be in his way immediately skirted around the Leech brother. One wasn’t fast enough, and Floyd’s arm knocked the tray out of the poor student’s hands.

His scowl deepened. He loomed over the terrified boy with his jaw clenched and eyes glinting ominously. The aggravated tone rang clear in his voice when he threatened, “Watch it, or do you want me to squeeze ya, huh?”

The Heartslabyul student silently despaired about his lunch. He was too intimidated and afraid of Floyd to even squeak. The merman left Mostro Lounge with a scowl and his fists in his pockets, like a child throwing a tantrum. He didn’t bother looking over to see your reaction.

Floyd was growing irritated at the thought that you’d give all your attention to Jade. He’d rather not see you make goo-goo eyes at his own brother. He didn’t want to think too much of it. Maybe he’d find something to do; something to get rid of this itch in his chest and fists.

If he couldn’t, then Azul would just have to deal with Crowley later. He wasn’t going to sit in that cramped office and get lectured by a headmaster that preened over his and the academy’s reputation.

As Floyd stomped through the portal that led back to Night Raven College, his thoughts veered towards you and Jade. His mind conjured every memory he had of you: how you perked up every time you saw Jade; how you always asked about him, even if you thought you were subtle about it; how you subconsciously gravitated towards Jade every time he was there—

A pair of Pomefiore students skittered towards the wall as Floyd passed by. A shadow loomed over his scowling face, which accentuated the dips and curve of his mouth. His blood boiled, and his footfalls grew heavier with each step. If he went on like this, Floyd would dig potholes in the corridors with his feet alone.

He always saw your smile brighten and look dainty around Jade. Your laugh grew softer, restrained and freakishly refined. It was as if you deliberately controlled yourself to look more appealing to his brother. It was annoying Floyd more than it should.

He liked you, even when your body tipped back and doubled over from laughing so much. He liked you, even if your laugh sounded like a dying whale. He liked you, even when you snorted so hard that it hurt your nose. He liked you, even when you smacked him on the shoulder out of exasperation. He liked you so much that he was tempted to tickle you in front of Jade—just so he could hear your loud and carefree laugh again.

He wanted all of you, even if you were weak and frail and helpless. He just wanted you.

He already hated how cheesy he sounded, but his heart called out for you with each waking moment. The image of your smile overlapped with his memory of your laugh. Your name was scrawled in his mind, his heart, his lips, his very soul. Floyd already knew it was bad if he was being poetic, sappy, and romantic like Seagull.

So, why’d you like Jade? His brother could care less about you in that sense. Floyd was already annoyed that Jade moved things behind the scenes: making sure that you were alone with Floyd as much as possible. They were brothers, but none of them would ever admit that they cared for each other out loud. That didn’t stop people from thinking Jade was the more capable and reliable brother than Floyd, cunning and mischief aside.

Floyd was the one who helped you out whenever he could. He was the one who spent the most time with you in Mostro Lounge. He was the one who made a beeline towards you every time he saw even a glimpse of your head. He was the one who made you laugh and smile, especially whenever he noticed that you were down in the dumps.

He found himself in the courtyard, and his mood soured more at the sight of the fountain. The memory of you, laughing and sitting like a drenched duck in the water, overlapped with the image. Grumbling, he kicked a pebble off the path and clenched his jaw.

“Ah…” Floyd sighed and ran a hand through his hair, before ruffling the locks on the back of his head. His feet halted right in front of the fountain, with its clear and burbling water. Looking down at his reflection, he saw your face beside his—all smiles and eyes hiding behind your cheeks. His heart felt weird, as if being strangled by some invisible force that Floyd couldn’t punch nor squeeze.

He clicked his tongue and looked away from his reflection. With a frustrated groan, he mumbled to himself, “Why did it have to be Jade, Shrimpy? I’d fight tooth and nail for ya, but it’s Jade.”

With that, Floyd kicked the base of the fountain like a petulant child. A dull crack echoed in the desolate courtyard, before water gushed out of the broken stone. It spilled through the fissure, and Floyd took a step back to keep his shoes from getting drenched.

He frowned again and stalked off to find something else to occupy his time with. The afternoon sun showered the courtyard with a golden glow, which only reminded him of the time the sunlight illuminated your grinning face as you laughed.

“Why’d it have to be you, Prefect?” Floyd mumbled, shoulders sagging and foot kicking another pebble in the way. Maybe, in the near future, he’d get bored and forget about you. His heart wouldn’t do that weird pitter-patter, and his lips wouldn’t twitch into a grin with one look at you. His chest wouldn’t grow fuzzy and warm. He wouldn’t get the urge to run to where you were whenever he wanted to see you—which was every day, honestly.

Floyd hoped he would forget about you, but you were so difficult to forget. He’d never find someone else who captured his interest this much. He’d never find someone who looked so beautiful, even if the noises that left them were unattractive and childish. Even if their smile was too wide to be natural. Even if they were fascinated by him at first sight, rather than scared and intimidated.

No one else would be like you, but you just had to like his brother instead.

[morelikeravenbore]

How to Make a Villain (a snippet)

As the footsteps drew level with their hiding place, Sebastian breathed a sound of caution, his soft lips grazing her forehead. His hands tightened around her waist, drawing her, if possible, closer, closer, until not even a sliver of space remained in which to breathe or think or move — and yet still she leaned into him, hands braced on his chest, fingers curling into his jumper — and his resulting moan was so low in his throat that maybe she only imagined it — and she lifted her face, just a touch, a tiny inclination, until the tip of her nose touched his lips — so warm — and he swallowed, hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, and then his nose grazed hers —

Sebastian Sallow smelled like pine and ink and parchment; like warmth and woollen blankets and fresh bread. It evoked feelings of being holed up in some secret place together, somewhere with a crackling fire and knitted blankets and walls lined with books; somewhere the cold couldn't penetrate and no one could find them if they didn't want to be found.

Would it really be so awful just to —

Just to —

How to Make a Villain, chapter seventeen.

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC, slowww-burn (for real, we're almost 60k words in and this is the closest they've ever gotten to kissing), idiots in love, canon divergent/post game events.

wattpad | ao3

✨🦋 Photos by loml @sallowsangel

[novelizt]

CHEESY ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ fluff

SYNOPSIS ➺ A moment with Lockwood, and cringy teenagers being cringy teenagers.

WARNING ➺ it's cheesy. if you are not ready for the cheese, please continue scrolling.

NOTES ➺ I know there's a plethora of fireplace fics but there's a reason they're sought after!! (Also, this being a 'x reader' fic means nothing, I am still a Locklyle girlie)

The Lockwood Estate was renowned for it's antiques and vintage touch. There is a scarcity of new things outside of food or files. One of those new things is the recliner chair that finds home in the library, parallel to Lockwood's favorite armchair.

While the embers crackle in the hearth, you bask in the warm glow pretending like you can actually see the words on your book when you can't. Your eyes glance to Anthony and wonder how he manages to go through bunches of magazines and comics and case files when you have to squint to differentiate an 'a' to an 'o'.

He's pretty when golden light hits his frame. His brow is scrunched, like a frown at the top of his nose. And his fingers bunch the edges of his magazine when he catches you staring.

"Oh." He says lowly.

Oh, you think. You manage a smile and you see how your gesture ripples, then he mirrors you. The magazine is discarded on the table and he leans forward until his elbows are rested on his knees, hands cupped together. "What are you staring at, stalker?" The lilt in his tone is a playful one, correspondent to his smile.

By instinct, you lean towards him, too. Your belly flattens against your claimed recliner. Your arm is propped up, palm pressing against your cheek. "You, obviously."

You catch a sliver of teeth before he schools himself, restraining a smile enough to throw another jab your way. "Must be your favorite passtime. You do that often?"

The corner of your lip turns up higher than the other. You stretch your arm so you're leaning against your elbow instead. "Only for pretty boys."

"That makes me the lucky one, huh?"

You nod.

It doesn't occur to you that minutes have passed, just the two of you sharing glowing smiles by the fireside. When one of you do break the cozy silence, it is him crossing the room and closing the place between you. You're just about to ask what he's up to when you wheeze– Feeling his weight drop onto your back until a laugh spills from you instead of a complaint. When you do wrestle him to come face to face, his smile is wider than ever and he's a little disheveled because he'd been laughing along with you.

It's magic. All of it.

His finger rolls the fabric of your — his — sweater, and in a tutting tone, he asks, "You minx. You've stolen this from my closet, haven't you?"

You can tell by his face that he wouldn't be mad with either way you could answer. So, you shrug. "Dunno what you're talking about."

"You little minx."

"Your little minx."

His nose crinkles and you let out a short laugh at it. "No offence, love, but that is terribly cheesy."

"Sad," you reply dryly. "Who recited Shakesphere to confess-"

"Shhhhh!" His finger is pressed to your lips. He jolts back when you take the liberty to kiss it. "Cheeky girl."

"Dramatic boy."

"Your dramatic boy."

This time, it is you who does the cringing. "Goodness... It is cheesy."

He points at you, nodding frantically. "Right?"

🦋 ⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

[remusslove]

so can you do little reader with cg marauders? Like here the reader is bored waiting for them bc they got detention or whatever... so the reader goes into their animagus form (and gets stuck) and regresses (like the animagus form switches to like a baby/child version of the animal) so the marauders come back and their like 'WhErE aRe ThEy?!' until they find reader either snuggling in one of their beds or by the fire in the common room...? (just my 2 am thoughts tbh)

Tiny dragon~ the marauders

Includes: age regression, little!reader, poly!marauders, cg!remus, cg!james, cg!sirius, and tooth rotting fluff

You sneezed causing your tiny wings to flutter in the air. You transformed about an hour ago because you were way too bored waiting for your daddies to come back from detention.

You jumped onto the bed and laid down. You sniffed the sheets in curiosity turning over your fluffy pillow smelling that as well. You loved sniffing things as the scents were stronger in dragon form.

You became bored of the lingering smell of fresh linen from your pillowcases. Your ears instantly perked up at the screech of your door slightly opening. You titled your head at the strange noise caused by the autumn wind.

You trotted to the door peeking out of it only to be met by an empty space. You slowly walked out of the room looking back and forth for any humans. You quickly ran down the stairs almost tripping over one of your tiny feet.

You looked around the room confused at how there’s no people in the common room. Then it clicked. “Today is hogsmeade day! That’s why there’s no one here!” You thought. You jumped on the sofa stomping in a circle then laying down.

You stretched your tiny feet and wings curling up into a ball. You instantly relaxed listening and feeling the warm crackling fire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remus let out a yawn exiting the classroom door. Him Sirius remus and James were finally finished with their 50 line of “I will not put a rat in Severus’s Snape’s quidditch locker ever again”.

“What do you guys think baby’s doing?” Sirius asked curiously. “Dunno. But I’m going to take a nap” James answered. “I’m tired as well, we can all take a nap with our baby since it is already 9:30” Remus suggested simply.

They both hummed in agreement to tired to say anything else.

Part two will be posted tomorrow!<3

-🦋

[suchalonelysunflower]

Looks Red, Tastes Blue (a.i)

Pairing: Vampire! Ashton Irwin x Fem! Reader

Summary: Winds change, and people can’t be trusted. An origin story and a new beginning. Based on Looks Red, Tastes Blue by Mayday Parade.

Warnings: Angst. Blood. Violence. Characters deaths. Mentions of wounds. Mentions of bible and god. Murders. Torture. Suicide. Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 7.2k

Author’s note: Spooky season! This might become a series, but focus on the *might* Please don’t forget to reblog, like and comment! SUPPORT YOUR AUTHORS ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋✨🌻

My masterlist // taglist in bio!

1815

The dark clouds roared with thunder, the rain will be here soon. This type of weather was not unusual, especially during this time of year when the sun goes to sleep and forgets to wake up for at least another three months. The waves crashed down on the coast, he could see them all perfectly from where he was standing. The dark, sharp rocks at the end of the cliff where his mansion stood showed no mercy as the agitated waves came looking for shelter from the storm.

Inside, the mansion was cold. The dark wooden floors and brick walls let the humidity find its home within the darkness. Not a sound could be heard except for the distant crackling of the firewood in the chimney, illuminating the drawing room and the solitary figure that stood there.

Baron Ashton Irwin, at the young age of 28 was already growing a couple of gray hairs due to the stress. His hands were clasped at his back; his suit, immaculate; and his long hair fell perfectly against his shoulders. He was the image of elegance and chivalry. Yet, his mind was the one giving him trouble.

Now, he stood in front of the window, carefully watching the clouds crash against each other and counting the seconds from the lightning to the thunder. He was never fond of storms, hating them since he was a child, still hiding behind his mother’s embrace. But now the expectancy of rain was his only comfort. Maybe that will calm them down.

“One… two… three… four…” Then a vigorous crash came down and filled his ears.

He breathed in deeply, his fingers finding comfort on the soft threads of his suit. He was looking up, for looking down might reveal his greatest fears. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. None of this was supposed to ever happen.

When he thought about moving to the country house that belonged to his family for generations, he never expected this type of welcome. He never expected for rumors to spread around like wildfire; hearing people talking about how he got his title and his fortune, as if his father was not a renowned royal all his life, and his father before him and - But that didn’t matter. No, not at least for the townsfolk who saw him as a threat.

Ashton has heard everything already. How he murdered his family to make a pact with the devil, selling his soul in exchange for power; or, how he bathed in the blood of virgins to keep his youth; or how he was the seed of Satan himself, trying to gain dominion by enchanting the innocent and then devour their blood and heart. And, of course, none of that was true.

He blamed it on the newfound obsession with purity and witchcraft. How men wanted to present themselves as the voice of God among men, condemning all the different souls that longed for more than bible tales and blind obedience to something they could not see nor hear. They prided themselves on their following, blind and ignorant, as they sentenced and killed everything in their way in the name of a higher power. Believing their own sins might be forgiven… but they know they never will.

His back stiffened when a warm, soft touch rounded his waist. But he immediately relaxed when he felt her cheek pressed against his back.

“It’s late,” She whispered, standing on her tiptoes to kiss the back of his neck. Ashton couldn’t help but smile as his hands rested over hers.

“I know,” He said with a sigh “But I can’t find it in myself to rest, not now at least”

“You’re worried they’ll come?”

Ashton could feel the hidden fear in her words, hugging him tightly and making the bump in her belly remind him what was at stake.

“Rumors only grow, my love, but are futile most of the time. This, however, feels different. For some reason, the wind won’t let me sleep, and the storm is as restless as myself. A bad omen is creeping up my back and I can’t shake it off”

“What can I do to help?”

With a soft smile, Ashton turned around to face his wife. It took him a few seconds to breathe her in, as she took a step back to give him space.

Her soft face and kind eyes brought nothing but comfort to the man with a heavy heart. Her hair fell perfectly on her face, reminding him how much he liked it that way instead of the updos the ladies now wore. Her white nightgown made it seem like she was floating, ethereal as it fitted her tummy perfectly, proudly showing they were expecting soon.

It was almost magical how the simple sight of her made all of his worries disappear. It has been like that since they met; when they were young, foolish, and free to do whatever they dreamt of. He fell for her the moment he saw her, and bowed in front of the angels to always protect her and do her right.

Now he can only hope he’ll be able to keep that promise, no matter the cost.

Ashton took a step forward, cradling his wife’s belly with a warm, soft touch.

“You are doing more than enough, my love,” He said, smiling when he felt their baby kick “You and this little манчкин are all I need”

He leaned over to kiss her forehead, a smile playing on her lips.

“I can still see that you’re worried”

Ashton sighed, knowing he couldn’t escape his wife’s knowing eyes.

“It’s this town,” He finally admitted “They don’t like us. They don’t like me” His eyes drifted back to the window “Coming here was a mistake, I just know it. But it’s too late now, or I’m afraid it might be”

Maybe things would’ve been different if he accepted the invitation of going to the church the first Sunday they settled. Maybe it would’ve been different if he let the women of the town visit his wife, but the first months of the pregnancy were hard for her as she lay in bed almost all day, crying in pain for him not to leave her side. Maybe it would’ve been different if his attitude toward the town’s rumors was more assertive instead of playing it off as something that would wear off any day now.

Now the weight of his heart burned with guilt. His fingers barely brushed the back of her head as she hugged him, letting her heart beat along with his as her soft breathing got mixed with the fire cracking in the chimney.

For a second he got lost in the fire, letting the red invade the hazel of his eyes as he held her close in his arms.

“We should move,” He said, not meeting her eyes “Let’s leave this place, and start over”

“You can’t start over when you already lived your life,” She said, mumbling the words against his chest. Her words were accompanied by a yawn - the pregnancy always made her sleepy, so it made Ashton giggle softly as he kissed her head “Besides, where would we even go? Your father left you this house, Ash. We have no business anywhere else”

“We can make the world our business if we want to, my love” He pulled away and cupped her face “It’s just- I got a bad feeling about this place. We can always come back to the city, find a place near the fields… Maybe find another coast so our children can know the sea”

She smiled, softly “You know I would follow you till the end of the world, Ashton. And if this is what you want, then I’ll go with you. I trust you” She grabbed one of his hands and placed her on her belly “We trust you”

Ashton couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh as he looked at her in the eyes. Never once did he see a starry night as the one that set upon her gaze, knowing he could look at her galaxy forever and never get tired of it. So he couldn’t help but lean down and capture her lips with his.

And he kissed her. He kissed her with all of his might because he could not believe how lucky he was to be so in love with a woman like that. Or better yet, how a woman like that could love him despite everything that’s been going on.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” He confessed against her lips, pressing his forehead against hers

She kissed him again “You’re a good man. You don’t claim to be perfect, nor to be the one that judges others. You’re a good man, Ashton, with a good heart capable of loving and healing. I-... I couldn’t fall for anyone but you”

He leaned over to kiss her again, to claim her lips as his own when the sound of thunder reverberated through the mansion again. But the sound brought more than the lightning.

“Do you hear that?” Ashton whispered, feeling how his hands turned cold even under her touch.

Then, the faint sound of footsteps and chatter filled the air. Iron crashing against one another mimicking the clouds crashing above. And Ashton knew what it meant.

With confident steps he walked over to the window to confirm his suspicions: They were here.

“Ash…” He heard her call, and he knew he had to act quickly.

Ashton turned to her, acting as calmly as he could, no matter how terrified he actually was. He cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I’ll handle them,” He said, he hoped.

“Ashton-”

“We’ve got nothing to hide, my love” He assured her and himself “I will be alright”

The sounds came closer “I don’t like this, Ash. Let me go with you”

Ashton shook his head “The last thing I want is for you to get sick in this weather. Go to the baby’s room, and hide for a while. They are just confused and scared, I’ll talk to them and come get you once they’re gone”

“But-”

“It’s okay,” He kissed her once again, just in time to hear banging at the door “I love you,”

She sighed, “I love you, too” She started to walk away from the room before she turned back “I’ll wait for you, okay?”

“I’ll find you, don’t worry”

With one last reassuring smile, he watched her walk away. Yet that smile faded the moment she was out of sight and the storm grew louder. Ashton took a deep breath and armed himself with courage before making his way to the entrance, passing through various halls with paintings and portraits on the wall till he reached the main staircase. He took one last look at their latest family portrait that hung there: Him standing proud as his hand rested upon his wife’s shoulder while she sat in a white dress, one hand on her belly and excitement in her eyes for what was to come.

Ashton could not wait to replace that portrait with a new one of them becoming three. He could not wait to see their child sitting between them, hoping they would look like their mother. But for that dream to happen, he had to solve some things first. And that included the loud pounding at his door.

The first person he saw was Reverend Lockwood, a man in his fifties with a big nose that hung over his face and a belly so full it should be shameful, who wore one of those awful white wigs that were supposed to make him above everyone else. He was - according to himself - the highest authority in town. He managed the church and was a self-named mayor since no one seemed to correct him or contradict him. Everyone in town seemed to follow his every command as if his words were sent from the highest power and he was the holiest man alive - although his two marriages and lord knows how many bastard children would likely say otherwise.

When Ashton first moved in with his wife, he was welcomed by Reverend Lockwood, but after Ashton rejected his invitation, it seemed like Lockwood’s new hobby was to hunt him down. And Ashton would bet his entire inheritance that he was the one spreading the rumors about him and his family just because he was not about to fall on his knees and adore this phony as all the other brainless townsfolk did.

Behind the Reverend, a mob stood proudly. All the men and a few of the women of the town looked at him in fear and anger. They were holding torches and chains, shovels and knives, ropes and bags. From the start, Ashton knew this was not a friendly visit, but for the first time, he allowed himself to see the seriousness of the situation.

Still, as politely as he could, he stood his ground and took a step forward. He was not about to welcome them into his house, let alone to let them think he was going to surrender, even if he had nothing to hide in the first place.

“Reverend Lockwood,” He said solemnly, acknowledging him with a nod and not even looking at the mob “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“A pleasure indeed, sir” Lockwood smirked “But I’m afraid it’ll be more for us than for yourself”

“I see you brought your crowd” Ashton dismissed his comment, finally addressing the others “It’s a shame you didn’t warn me in advance, Reverend, I would’ve prepared you some supper before whatever show you promised”

“Cut the act, Irwin” Lockwood spat “Despite what you might believe or make others believe, we know what you really are”

Ashton blinked twice at him, frowning as he crossed his arms over his chest and asked “And that is?”

“A monster!” Yelled one person in the crowd

“Murderer!” Yelled another

“Blasphemous!”

Reverend Lockwood stood there with a smile, Ashton just sighed.

“You are all gravely mistaken!” Ashton talked over the crowd, loud enough for everyone to hear but with no hint of anger in his voice “I am nothing but a man trying to live a happy life with his family. What sins have I committed that makes me different from any of you?” The whispers of the crowd were filled with hatred “Has your Lord taught you nothing with his words? Has the blinded faith you have over a man of flesh and bone prevented you from seeing beyond what you consider fair? Or did the poison of false words already do its job?”

“How dare-“

“No, Reverend, how dare you! Coming into my house to accuse me of such lies, burdening my family and all of these people who you claim to protect. I’ve done nothing but love my life as I seem fair, minding my own business. Something you, Reverend, could very much take as an example”

The way in which Lockwood’s jaw clenched at Ashton’s words gave him some sense of triumph. He knew there was nothing to fear, no crimes were committed nor moral laws were broken. He was a good man, not the monster they claim to know.

Still, it seemed that the trial wasn’t about to be over so soon.

“You deny the charges?” Lockwood asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I deny them,” Ashton answered confidently, looking defiantly at the man in front of him.

“Then,” He asked, a taunting smirk starting at the corner of his lips “What about your wife?”

There was a change in the wind. Strong tides whistled around the silence and tension. The breaking of waves did nothing but simulate Ashton’s own shattering as the question sunk into the pit of his stomach.

His face turned as white as snow, swearing his heart started to beat slower. A fear, a horrifying feeling settled in his guts, in his chest. Rage.

“What about my wife?” Asked Ashton, voice commanding and grave. Never once taking his eyes from the puritan.

“You might deny your sins, Irwin. But you can’t deny hers”

“What sins?!” He shouted, feeling as if his body was nothing but a burning fire, ready to fight “She’s done nothing-!”

“I saw Mrs. Irwin dancing with the devil!” A voice cried from the crowd.

Ashton looked over Lockwood’s shoulders. Opening his mouth to speak but the shouting continued.

“I saw Mrs. Irwin crying tears of blood!”

“Mrs. Irwin made my house burn down, a deal with darkness! I saw it! She’s the devil’s wife!”

“Devil! Devil! Devil!”

The cries of the people were unstoppable, getting louder as they pound inside Ashton’s head. The feeling of drowning in mid-air caught him by surprise as his legs shook when he faced the crowd, looking frantically at them, begging them.

“N-no!” Ashton cried, shaking his head, but his voice died amid all the lies “No! You’re mistaken!”

How did it happen? His wife- his wife who has never left the manor. His wife whose smile could conquer the world and make the bravest man yield before her. His wife who’s the kindest, most beautiful soul he has ever met… Accused of witchcraft.

“Lockwood!” He cried, taking a step closer to the man until they were face to face, knowing how much that man was enjoying seeing him so desperate “You know those are all lies! You’ve known her! She would never-“

“I know what I know, sir” Lockwood answered gravely, but the tint of mockery in his eyes still shone through “And I know that I am a man of god. And if you were to say the same, you would let us make Justice in his name”

“I won’t let you do this!” Ashton told him, jaw tense and eyes filled with hate. The reverend scoffed.

“God doesn’t ask permission”

Ashton looked at him with disgust before grabbing the lapels of Lockwood’s shirt and bringing him closer “You are no god”

The reverend only smiled with sufficiency before he signaled the men of the mob. One, two, three… there were more than twenty by the time they came to the door. Ashton recognized them before three of them attempted to grab him.

He fought against them, throwing punches and kicks to slow them down. But every time he delivered a blow, three more would follow. They grabbed him by the jacket, by the shirt, and by the hair. They knocked down his knees and allowed him to fall to the ground before securing his hands behind his back.

Ashton watched with his face on the ground as ten men broke down the door to his home. Desperate tears escaped his eyes as the screams ripped through his throat.

“NO!” He would cry, trying to get away, but one of the men had his knee upon the small of his back, making it impossible for him to move “NO! LEAVE THEM ALONE!”

It was excruciating to listen to such heartbreaking screams. He called her name, bleeding through every word of warning, hoping she would listen and stay hidden.

“She’s with child! Leave her alone!” He’d beg to anyone who would listen, purposely ignoring the shattering sound coming from inside his home “Take me instead! Take me! Do what you want with me but leave them be!”

The man who was holding him down grabbed Ashton by the hair, pulling it until he was kneeling with his face directed at the reverend.

“There’s nothing you can do, Irwin,” Said Lockwood, looking expectantly at the manor “Just let the Justice make its path”

“This-” Ashton spat, “This is not justice!”

“Maybe not,” He admitted, “But it’s God’s will”

“Ashton!”

His wide eyes followed the sound, tears flooding his view as a wrenching scream passed his lips.

On top of the manor, in the window by the sea where he was standing mere minutes ago, he could see a white nightgown floating with the stormy breeze. There, his wife was standing at the edge, face red and puffy as the tears marked her cheeks. The wind caused her baby bump to be revealed against the soft fabric, an angelic sight for someone who was deemed to be anything but.

She yelled his name again, looking at him through the crowd. But she seemed tense, almost afraid to even look down. That’s when Ashton noticed the cut on her arm and the crimson blood dripping from her fingertips. Behind her, one of the men that invaded their home was holding her by the hair, tauntingly pulling and pushing just enough so she would believe she’d lose her balance and fall to the breaking of the waves against the rocks.

Ashton called her name, cried out for her, but to no avail. She would not hear him.

“NO!” Ashton trashed and turned, but more men came to hold him in place “Let her go! Take me! TAKE ME! LET HER GO! SHE’S HURT, SOMEONE HELP HER! LET HER GO!”

But the mayhem did not stop. The chants from the crowd grew louder when they noticed her upon the window. The storm gathered its strongest winds as the clouds clashed against one another. But all Ashton could hear besides his own screams was white noise.

He wanted nothing more than to be there with her. To cradle her face and wipe out those tears; kiss her as he promised her time and time again that they’ll get out of there as soon as they can. That their family will be safe.

Oh, how he wished he could go back in time. Wished he’d never left in the first place. Then they would not be trapped inside this nightmare, unable to wake up. He failed them, he failed her. “I’ll handle them,” He said, foolishly thinking he could protect her and their child. Now, as his heart threatens to come out of his body, there’s nothing he can do but beg to deaf ears and empty stares.

“Ashton!” She cried again, but the air in her lungs got stolen as a hand wrapped around her neck.

Her parted lips were all Ashton could focus on, the way in which she gasped for air and her hands found their way to sink her nails into her attacker’s arm, covering him with blood as well.

“NO!” He’d yelled, over and over again to no avail.

The whisper of his name crossed her lips when her eyes finally found him. He called out her name, bleeding through his throat and pain; his eyes never leaving her as he begged her for forgiveness. She looked at him with red, tearful eyes filled with something that could only be described as love. He knew what that look meant. He could not look away. Those were the eyes of the woman he loved, the look that only he would recognize among a thousand. He would not spare a moment away from them.

Even if that moment was taken away from them so abruptly.

Ashton watched the exact moment in which her eyes widened for the last time before they shut close. The last gasp that got trapped between her chest. A lonely tear ran down her cheek. And the amount of blood that sweeps from the horizontal cut across her throat, cleaning her from all of the sins she’s never committed.

Silence. That’s all it was.

Silence as her feet lost all support and slipped through the edge, making it seem as if she was the one taking the leap willingly. He wanted to run, foolishly thinking he could catch her before she hit the ground, hoping he could save her from the current nightmare of an endless void below. Yet, his feet were unable to leave the ground, feeling how his hope was falling with her, lost forever.

But all he could do was watch in slow motion as the white figure soared through the stormy winds one last time. Perfectly framed face covered by her hair, eyes closed and pink, parted lips, flying freely before the sea claimed her as his. Like an angel whose wings got stolen way too soon.

Silence. But not for long.

Legend has it that no cry was ever as broken as his. That the seas mourned with him and stood still for a moment, allowing him to try and take his own heart out of his chest, for that would hurt less than listening to the tragedy that tinted the night.

Thunder and lightning accompanied his lament, harmonizing with the sound of loss and heartbreak no man should ever feel. Like Orpheus who cried for Euridyce and won the sympathy of the gods; this cry would’ve broken their hearts.

Ashton fell forwards, curled in pain as the sobs got lost on the ground and were replaced by the naked anger of a man who just lost everything.

He looked up to see the reverend standing in front of him, the ghost of a smile forming on his lips, thinking he already won. Next thing he knew, everything went black.

*

The first thing he noticed was that he could not move his legs or arms. Something heavy was hanging from his ankles and he felt his body being carried over. Even when he opened his eyes he noticed the darkness, and when he tried to scream there was only a muffle coming through his ears. He could only guess by the pain in the back of his head, that he was being taken somewhere to die; he was blindfolded and gagged as if he would try to escape the fate he so longly awaited.

All Ashton could think was “Why am I not dead, yet?” He should be dead, it was obvious that the reverend would not let go of him so easily. But the thought that crossed through his mind almost instantly was that he wanted to be dead. He had nothing else to live for anymore.

There was an abrupt halt to every movement. Ashton could hear the sound of footsteps coming closer before he felt two sets of arms grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him to the ground. His knees scrapped the rocky surface, cutting through his skin. But he made no sound, no effort to be noticed.

The cold wind made him shiver, and aware that he was wearing just a thin shirt and raggy pants. The piece of fabric that gagged him cut through the corners of his mouth, making him savor the metallic taste of drying blood. He moved his hands, just enough to notice the burning of the ropes against his skin, and for his feet, he could only guess the same, though it felt heavier. He stayed on his knees for what felt like forever before his head was yanked back with a few strands of his hair, and suddenly he could see the clear skies again.

How long did he stay unconscious? He did not know, but it was enough for the storm to pass and show the full moon’s light. Ashton thought that it couldn’t possibly be enough. It’d never be enough.

Suddenly, the image of Reverend Lockwood appears before him. He was still wearing his wig and formal clothing. The same smug expression was drawn on his face. He needn’t say anything, he knew Ashton already guessed what was happening. Still, the young baron never took his eyes off of him, not once.

The wind grew stronger as the moon took the highest place of the night sky, witnessing as a young man didn’t fight as he was made to walk to the edge of a cliff, the sound of waves crashing below made him think of home.

“I thought it would be fitting,” The reverend said. Ashton didn’t answer.

Instead, Ashton looked at him, and everyone else present in their eyes, memorizing their faces and remembering the names of each and every single one of the people responsible for the death of his soul.

He stood straight, like a King. Never bowed or broke in front of his enemies. No one, not even Lockwood dared say a thing. The winds were changing once again, the minutes till midnight were counted and gone. And Ashton, in the silence of his heart, promised them that they will regret it. Every single one of them will regret it.

And with that, he took a step back. Feeling as the wind hit his back before he closed his eyes. The moon was the last thing he saw before everything turned black once more.

*

The water was cold as he sank.

The force of the hit made the knot on the gag lose, making the fabric float away as the water snuck inside his lungs. He kept on sinking.

The ties on his hands gave out as well as the ones on his feet. There was no resistance, only poor techniques.

The moonlight made the waters clear. Shinning above him. His hair framed his face as it floated gracefully. It was peaceful. Beautiful. Free

Twas the moon that saw his heart stop. The redness of the blood did not flow or pump. It was cold as the water surrounding him, as the beating slowed down with every moment of calmness that came with the ending of things. Until there was nothing but silence.

But when the blood turns as blue as ice, heart frozen. The cells in his bloodstream started to move backward, turning blue as the sea, craving for something to feed. Feeling like he could not breathe.

Eyes wide open in the middle of the sea.

*

No one talked about it out loud, but whispers only grow.

They knew what was coming for them. They were expecting it.

People tried to flee before, but he always found them.

It was always a mystery, they said, no one knew how those bodies were always found with such marks across their bodies, drained completely of any blood they might have left. Nobody had the same wounds; some would end up with broken backs; others with their heads turn the other side; people rumor about a man whose throat was cut in half, but there was no trail of blood, just an empty, open wound.

They all had the same marks upon their necks, though. Two small holes under their left ear were theorized to be left after continuous torture, a mark of the devil, perhaps. And not only that, but they all had another thing in common: They were all found in the morning with the most horrifying looks on their faces. Almost as if they’ve seen a ghost from the past that came back to haunt them.

The devil acted quietly and at night. One victim every forenight, no matter the gender. Only a few could be considered safe beside the children. But there was no denying that anyone could be next.

Some say that they saw the devil lurk in the darkness, with blue marks upon his veins on the inside of his arms and eyes glowing hazel in the dark. Others say that they saw him by the sea, sitting alone by the rocks under the abandoned manor. A few claim that they fought him and won, but no one believes them.

Reverend Lockwood always dismiss such rumors, smiling as he tried to reassure the people that nothing was wrong and that it was probably some children’s tale. But everyone in town knew how he locked all the doors and all the windows of his home before the night came.

Lockwood knew what was coming for him, he just didn’t know when. That’s until he learned about John Proctor’s death. There were no other men in town. The devil left him for last.

He was wise enough to send his family away before the night came. He locked all the doors and threw all the keys. He opened up his bible and held the crucifix on his chest, praying for salvation in a candlelight dimmed room.

The night was dark and quiet. The widows and orphans stopped crying about their losses a long time ago, the ones who dared to stay in the haunted town, at least. There were not many left, after all, but there were enough to remember what happened for years and years to come.

Silent prayers were the only sound that could be heard that fateful night. But meaningless words as the ones the reverend recited were of not much help, for a quarter past ten, the wind began to change.

“Our father, who art in-” The sound of a stomp made his skin crawl “H-h-heaven! Hallowed be th-thy name-” Goosebumps aroused at the flickering on the candle “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as-”

“There is no Heaven for people like you, Lockwood”

The voice echoed through the walls. The few patches of hair the reverend still had on his head perked up in fear as the crucifix slid from his fingers and fell to the ground.

“No, n-no, please!” He begged, looking frantically around the dark room.

“You knew I was coming,” The voice continued, making the old reverend’s heart go faster and faster “You should feel honored, actually, to be deemed this important”

“I- I don’t understand!” Lockwood cried “It can’t be! I forbid it! In the name of God”

The voice laughed, suddenly sounding closer.

“Oh, Lockwood, you can’t forbid anything here. After all, god does not ask for permission”

The light of the candle died in a second, suffocated by the sudden lack of oxygen in the room. Then, in the corner, standing very still with a smile plastered on his face, stood the devil himself.

Lockwood, frightened at the image, fell from his chair and into the ground, opening his mouth to speak but without any noise coming out as he dragged himself to the opposite corner of the room.

The same man that he’s seen jump out of the cliff not so long ago was standing in front of him. Clothes as dark as night; his long hair perfectly combed and styled; a silver necklace with two simple bands hanging from his chest; hazel eyes shining like a predator who’s just caught its prey… So beautifully twisted it was impossible to put into words. He hadn’t changed a thing except for his smile, so charming; so frightening; so cruel and deadly.

It was not a normal smile, no, it was the smile of the devil.

“No…”

In an instant, Ashton was standing in front of the frightened man, grabbing him by the lapels of his shirt and picking him up from the ground with a newfound strength he rather enjoyed.

“I am god,” Ashton smiled “And this is my justice”

*

When they found Reverend Lockwood’s body the next day, it was rather unusual.

The body still had marks all over it; the cross embedded and burned in the flesh of the dead man’s chest was certainly a novelty, and the face of horror was similar to the ones seen in the previous victims. It was the blood that threw people off.

This time the killer did not drain the victim’s blood as it usually did. For whatever reason, that might be, although people do claim it was because it was tainted, and the killer had some sort of dignity or whatnot. Instead, the blood was smeared all over the wall, spelling the message:

“This is god’s will”

*

2022

“For the thousandth time, Luke. If you’re going to convince a girl to give you her number, you should not read her fucking mind first” Ashton sighed over the phone, having had this conversation countless times.

It was another sunny day in L.A. Ashton found he likes it way more than the grey clouds of London where he spent the last portion of the twentieth century - It was the music that drew him in when the Beatles first started, but it can get quite boring after a few decades. He’d just gone on his daily coffee run, catching up with Calum that just moved in closer to him after spreading some mayhem in the southern part of the continent. And now he was trying to convince Luke, once again, that when girls say they like someone who could read their mind, they do not mean it literally.

“It didn’t work out last time, so what makes you think it’ll work this time?”

He passed the bookstore that Michael owns, saying hi to him as he walked passed the window, but not daring to come in while there were customers. He did, though, checked himself out on the reflection. Whoever said that beings like him can not see their reflection or walk under the sun was gravely mistaken.

After two centuries he still didn’t look a day older than twenty-eight. His hair was shorter now and his skin was adorned with tattoos that healed way too quickly and served to hide those blue marks of his veins. The only thing that changed was the lack of beating of his heart but, well, no one needed to know that.

He caught a glimpse of the two dangling rings on his necklace and let a sudden moment of nostalgia run through his mind, as a small, sad smile crossed his lips. After all, not all wounds can be healed with time.

“Yeah, Luke, I gotta go” He sighed, walking away from the man in the reflection “We can talk about it tonight, alright? Just, stay away from her childhood memories. You’ll thank me later”

He hung up the phone just in time for the crosswalk light to turn red, so he waited, not really paying attention to his surroundings when all of the sudden, a door opens across the street.

It was a quick glance. One of those that makes you take a double look. But it was gone the moment Ashton recognized it. He took a step forward, but the loud horn of a Tesla that was about to run him over, made him take a step back and let his coffee cup fall to the ground.

A sudden desperation took over him, cranking his neck up to see beyond the passing cars. He had to make sure it was really-

“No,” He thought “It can’t be-? No, but what if-?”

The light turned green and Ashton started to run. He would push past the people walking in the opposite direction, mumbling apologies as his senses heightened. Which way? Who? What? Where?

He was about to give up when all of the sudden he spotted it: the same shade of hair color, shining under the sun in the middle of sunset boulevard.

For the first time in nearly two hundred years, Ashton shivered. A pit of emptiness filled his stomach as he gathered enough courage to approach and- and do what? Well, it didn’t matter at this point, given that he was already walking toward this person, and before he knew it, his hand was on their shoulder.

“Hey, I-”

It has been a while since Ashton was left completely breathless by someone. But this wasn’t just anyone. The hair, the face, the eyes… oh, those eyes. He would always remember those eyes, that look, how they shined in the darkness. How many nights he spent forcing himself to remember them, even at his lowest he knew those eyes would pull him through anything. And now…

“I found you,” He whispered

“Excuse me?” The girl he’d unconsciously - consciously - stalked looked at him quizzically, ready to take out her pepper spray at any minute.

It took Ashton a second to realize that he was a complete stranger. He immediately took a step back.

“Oh shit,” He said, laughing and blushing awkwardly but without being able to take his eyes off of this girl “I’m sorry, I- I thought you were- Thought I recognize you from somewhere”

The girl rolled her eyes “Let me guess, from a dream?” She mocked.

“Uh, do guys actually use that line?”

“I don’t know, you tell me, stranger” She shrugged, ready to walk away again.

“W-wait!” Ashton hated how needy he sounded. But he can’t let this go just yet, not if it really is her “I’m sorry, I’m a dick. I shouldn’t have scared you, I promise I’m not a-” The girl raised an eyebrow at him “You just seem very familiar. May I ask your name? If that’s okay, I don’t want to make you even more uncomfortable”

The girl seemed to relax a bit more, and Ashton smiled at that.

“I’m Y/N, and you’re not a dick” She sighed “I’m just new to the city and you never know who’s a creep and whatnot”

“Y/N…” Ashton repeated, loving the way it rolled off his lips with such ease “I’m Ashton,”

He extended his hand and she took it, shaking it lightly. And for that brief moment, the wind started to change. A new hope settled inside his chest.

Y/N took her hand off first, but the touch still lingered. He knew she felt it, too.

Ashton cleared his throat “So! What brings you to the land of opportunities?”

“The same thing as always, I guess, to find that opportunity and make something out of myself” She smiled “Not more interesting than the next person, I’m afraid”

“Oh, I bet you are quite interesting,” Ashton rushed to say, blushing immediately “I- I mean, I can tell that you’re a very interesting person, Y/N. Not at all like other girls!”

“Wow, you really said that at loud, huh”

Ashton looked embarrassed “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He sighed “Sorry, I’m just not very good at- well,”

“Flirting?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while”

“How long?”

He laughed “A lifetime, probably even more”

Y/N squinted her eyes at him, almost as if she was analyzing him. Ashton couldn’t help but smile, his wife used to do the same thing when she knew something was up with him.

“Alright,”

“Alright?” He asked, confused.

“We can go for coffee”

“We can?”

“If you want,” She shrugged, but Ashton could tell she was nervous as well. He smiled widely.

“I do!” He said, eagerly “Mine actually fell a few streets down and I couldn’t even taste it”

“A tragedy!” Y/N gasped mockingly, smiling right at him “Then, it’s my treat. And maybe I can give you some pointers on how to flirt with strangers”

Ashton smiled as they started walking side by side “I would love that, actually”

“Okay, first up: Don’t just approach strangers on the street. How do I know you won’t drain my blood or something?”

A nervous laugh escaped his lips, but he covered it up with a cough “So why are you inviting me for coffee then? If you’re not sure I won’t do that”

Y/N shrugged as she looked at him with familiar eyes “I don’t know. You seem…familiar. Maybe we met in another life”

“Yeah,” Ashton smiled, “Maybe”

*

*

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @hoodhoran @hoodharlow @littledrummeraussie @bubblegum183 @irwin-fletcher-ash @wiiildflowerrr @in-a-world-of-fandoms @another-lonely-heart @aabc5sauce @in-superbloom @sadcupofcoffee @personalmuyverypersonal @vtte @as-hs-blog @himbohood @sofiaaraee @irwindoll @weasleytwinscumslut @fairytrice @colourfulcal @nibin0912 @hfkait @savagejane1 @youneedtocalumdown @pvnkcloud @ashtonsunflower @nicebasscalum @calumspupils @secretsicanthideanymore @alltimesos @wontlastimokwiththat @cncoangelss @whywontyoulovemecami @theimpossiblehologramtree @perriexed @abiancajg @rewmuslupin @icelily13 @whywontashloveme @lendeluxe

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

I Got You Babe

Character/Fandom: Steve Binder - Elvis (2022)

Requested: yes - anon

Prompt: You witnessed the assassination of Bobby Kennedy. The first person you can think of to call is an old flame, Steve Binder. When he picks you up and brings you to NBC Studios where Elvis is filming a tv special, you remember just how much Steve means to you.

TW: Mentions of death, depression, a little trauma

Rating: Pg-13   ||     Word Count: 3016

A/N: i'm in love with this fic and also with dacre thank u

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

You sit down, gripping the arm of the chair with white knuckles. Your heart is still pounding in your ears, sending painful shocks through your head. After heaving a few shaky breaths, you reach over for the telephone and lift it to your ear. You dial in the number you’ve memorized by heart and twist the phone chord around in your fingers as you beg, pray, and plead for an answer. After a few rings, the other line clicks on and static fills the space between you.

“This is Steve Binder with NCB Studios," the familiar voice crackles through the phone speaker and you sigh in relief.

“Steve, it’s Y/N. I-I didn’t know who else to call,” you say as you try to gulp the tears away.

“Y/N, it’s good to hear your voice,” Steve replies. “Are you…alright? Is something wrong? How can I help?”

You smile weakly at Steve’s willingness to just jump right in. He’s always been like that, for as long as you’ve known him. And it's one of the things that made you fall in love with him so many years ago.

“I…I assume you’ve heard the news?”

“About Bobby Kennedy? Of course. I’m not sure what to do with myself, honestly. I…working feels so wrong when our country is bleeding out like this.”

You nod vigorously even though you know Steve can’t see you. You grip the phone with both hands, closing your eyes and giving in to your brain as it replays the scenes over and over again.

You were there when it happened. You were just walking across the street, just passing like it was any other old day. The gunshot ricocheted through your body as if you were the one who’d been hit. Your eyes immediately flashed to follow the people along the street, sprinting and screaming. You hadn’t been able to see much, thanks to the crowd which had gathered around. But when two people shifted with the most unfortunate timing, you’d seen enough. There was no question as to who had been assassinated. Everyone was shouting and repeating that “Bobby Kennedy’s been shot!” You didn’t know what to do, so you stood, frozen, and watched as they loaded his body into an ambulance and sped off toward the hospital.

The bang, the blood, the screams…all of those terrible images continue to flash in front of your eyes. They're all so vivid, as if you're watching them happen in front of you again.

You don’t want to worry Steve, but you truly hadn't known who else to call. He was the first person you found yourself wanting to speak to as you stumbled back into your house and crashed onto all fours on the floor of your living room. You scrunch your nose as your face screws up with grief, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You grip the phone and take a shaky breath.

“I was there, Steve,” you say.

But you've said it so quietly that you aren’t sure whether Steve has heard you, especially after several moments of silence follow.

“I was there,” you repeat, a bit louder this time.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he finally replies before sighing loudly.

You know that sigh. You envision him leaning over his desk, elbow propped on his knee, fingers stretched across his forehead. It's a position you’d seen many times when you were together. It always came out during stressful evenings at the studio.

“It’s not your fault, Steve. There’s nothing you could have done. I just…” you glance up at the ceiling as the images roll through your brain again. This time, you aren’t strong enough to stop the tears which begin to stream down your face all at once. Your breath shakes so loudly that he can probably hear it on the other side. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”

“You won’t be. I’m coming to pick you up.”

“Steve, that’s like an hour drive from you. You-”

“End of discussion. I’m leaving now. I hate to ask this of you, but would you mind if we came back to the studio? I have a really important guest star that I sort of need to be with. If that’s too much, I’m more than happy to take off early and stay at home with you.”

“No, no. The studio is fine. Maybe I can help. It’ll get my mind off of…what happened.”

“One hour, I’ll be there.”

He doesn’t even wait for you to respond before clicking the phone back onto the receiver. You slowly place your own line back into its position on the side table and curl up on the couch. You don’t want to wait an hour, but the thought of running into Steve’s strong arms is enough to keep you satisfied for the moment. You reach for the remote to turn on the television but stop when you realize that all of the coverage will be showing the very images you're trying to escape. Instead, you lie down on the couch and close your eyes.

The shrill sound of the doorbell is what awakens you. Shocked and disoriented, you stumble off the couch and rush toward the door. You unlock the latches and swing it open to reveal Steve, dressed in a beautiful blue velvet suit. Your eyes quickly trace down his figure which is familiar in some places but strange in others. He’s bigger, stronger than the last time you’d seen him. His hair is much longer, falling in chestnut waves across his forehead and neck. He wears a blue ascot tied expertly around his throat which leads your eye perfectly down onto the exposed skin between two flaps of fabric on his chest. You gulp and allow your eyes to connect with his.

As soon as they do, you can see the concern in his expression. His eyes are bloodshot, red with what you assume were his tears after watching Bobby Kennedy die on national television. His eyebrows are pulled upward and his lips look red and swollen. His hair is disheveled and his face drawn. He looks like he hasn't slept in five days.

“Hi,” he says quietly.

“Hi,” you respond in a voice barely above a whisper.

You both stand still, staring at each other for a moment while you each wait for the other to make a move. Finally, Steve holds out his arms, stepping into your house. His small gesture is all it takes to break you. You fall into his arms, gripping onto the soft fabric of his jacket. He gently maneuvers you onto the ground, pulling your body into his lap. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and the other rests on the top of your head, stroking your hair. He doesn’t say anything but his presence is enough.

Your shoulders wrack as the tears flood out of your eyes and onto his clothes. His fingers methodically tense and relax on your head. This is something Steve has always done. You can’t explain why, but it’s oddly comforting. Maybe because it reminds you of what you two used to be, the good times you had together. Once you’ve finally gotten ahold of yourself, you pull back and wipe your eyes with a sniff.

“Sorry, I just need to change really quickly, if you don’t mind. And then I’ll be ready to go.”

You move to stand, but he grabs onto your fingers.

“Don’t be sorry. And take your time. I have a surprise at the studio which I think you might like,” Steve replies, offering a weak smile. You return it, your mind dancing around the word surprise.

You quickly change into a more comfortable outfit and rake your fingers through your hair to make yourself as presentable as possible before returning to the living room. Steve’s back is turned to you as he examines some of the framed photos you have propped up on a bookshelf in the corner.

“I’m ready,” you say and he jerks around to face you.

“Sure, uh…” he awkwardly hovers for a minute before striding forward to open the door for you.

You thank him and walk through, shutting and locking it behind you both. He’s parked right out front, so it only takes a few minutes to get in and take off toward NBC Studios in Burbank. You curl up against the window with your back facing Steve and close your eyes again, trying to get some rest. He turns the radio on low but the broadcast keeps getting interrupted with news reports and updates. You block them out the best you can over the next hour and are thankful when you finally pull up to the studio. As you wake yourself up, Steve rushes around to open the door for you. You thank him and he offers you his hand, which you accept.

He leads you inside, holding every door for you and smiling each time you glide past him. As shitty as you still feel, his intense need to be a gentleman is making you feel a bit better already. Before you enter the last set of doors, Steve pauses.

“Remember how I told you that I had a surprise for you?” he asks and you nod. “Well, we’re doing this special and the star of the show is Elvis Presley. He should be in here working on a new song.”

“Elvis? Wow…” you reply breathlessly. “That must be cool.”

A smile, a genuine one, breaks across Steve’s features for the first time since you’ve been together. You can’t help but return it, tilting your head to take in every angle of his charming face. The additional few years of age look good on him. He’s even more handsome than you remember.

He, once again, opens the door for you to step through. You do and freeze in the doorway when you see that the Elvis Presley is, in fact, there. He’s laying back on some pillows on the ground, holding a sheet of paper up to his eyes. You tense as you feel Steve’s hand sliding around your back to support you.

“Hey everybody, this is Y/N. This is Bones Howe, who you’ve met before, and Elvis Presley,” Steve says, gesturing with his arm as he introduces everyone. “Y/N…is gonna be helping us out today since Margaret went home hours ago.”

You sheepishly wave at them both as Steve gently pushes you toward a couch across from the piano. You assume Margaret is probably the secretary and, although you have no secretarial experience, you’re happy to help.

“Nice to meet ya,” Elvis murmurs with a small smile.

As you sit, you feel heat creeping into your face. He is incredibly handsome in person, even more than he is on tv. But when Steve begins talking to direct the session, your eyes stick onto him and stay there. You watch his eyes light up when Elvis begins to sing. You watch his mouth as he takes a drag from his cigarette, his plump lips expertly holding the stick between his teeth. You watch his hands as they shuffle through papers and drag across his chin and lips. You miss him. You feel a longing for him, even though he’s right here in the room with you.

Even though you’re supposed to be the secretary for the night, you aren’t asked to do a single thing other than hold a sheet of paper for Elvis for a few minutes. You feel incredibly lucky, just getting to be an observer of the magic that’s currently happening in such a small room in NBC Studios. Every so often, you and Steve make eye contact across the room. Each time, you both share a small smile. A few times, Steve winks and you bite your lip.

There comes a time during the morning when all that can be done is Elvis replaying and practicing the lyrics until he has them down. At that point, Steve makes his way over to you and sits down on the couch with a sigh. You glance over at the clock to see the hands gesturing to 4:15. The realization draws a yawn out of you, and you press your fingers to your lips. You’re curled up, your knees pulled tightly into your chest.

You glance over at Steve to find his eyes already on you. He offers a small smile and reaches out to place his palm on your cheek. You don’t mean to but your body leans into his touch, and you close your eyes. His hand is warm on your skin and you want to jump out of your place on the couch to wrap your arms around him and kiss his beautiful pink lips. But you banish the thought, just happy to be in his presence.

“How are you feeling?” he asks quietly so as not to disturb Elvis. His hand slides from your cheek and you sigh.

“Better. Much better, thank you. This is amazing. What you’re doing here.”

“Thank you,” Steve smiles, averting your eyes. You think you see a little bit of a blush settling on his cheeks.

“No need to thank me. I’m just telling the truth. You know, I always knew that you’d do something great. You were always so driven, so dedicated. So good at what you do. That was part of the reason I…”

You trail off, unable to finish your thought. The reason I love you, was what you mean to say. But, despite the fact that you had dated for a few months several years ago, neither of you had ever gotten the courage to say those three little words.

“The reason what?” Steve presses. When you glance up into his beautiful blue eyes, they’re sparkling. They flick between both of your eyes as he searches for your answer.

“The reason I called you. Because I knew that you’d understand. And I think I made the right choice.”

“Alright, folks, well I think we should wrap it up for now,” Bones’ voice interrupted your conversation. “EP, you’re sounding great but get some rest so you’re not completely exhausted tomorrow.”

Elvis nods, thanking Bones and Billy Goldenburg, the piano player. As he, Bones, and Billy are leaving, Elvis turns toward you and Steve. He speaks so that only the two of you can hear him.

“Try and get some rest in, lovebirds,” he winks with a mischievous smile as he leaves the room.

Your eyes widen but you say nothing, glancing down at your knees with a nervous gulp. A few moments of silence pass before Steve turns to you.

“So what did you think of the song?” he asks awkwardly and you chuckle.

“I love it. I think it’s really powerful. It’s sort of a song that only Elvis could sing.”

“I agree.”

A few more awkward silent moments pass.

“Um, do you,” Steve’s head drops as he chukles, “do you remember when, um, we were at that bar and they were picking people out of the crowd to sing in front of everyone? And they picked us, of all people. They wanted us to sing ‘I Got You Babe’ by Sonny and Cher?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you try to remember what he’s talking about. Suddenly at the mention of Sonny and Cher, all of the memories come flooding back to you. You slap your hand against your mouth and laugh out loud.

“Yes, of course I remember! Oh, that was a disaster,” you reply and Steve laughs. “You were horrible!"

“Me? What about you? You forgot half of the lyrics!”

“Okay but at least I could hold a note, Steve!”

You've both rotated now, turning to face each other. You've also leaned in, so your knees are touching and faces are only a few inches apart. Steve has absentmindedly taken your hands in his, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“You’re beautiful…” Steve’s exrpression flattens as he realizies what he’s said. Your smile also fades, leaving your lips hanging open in surprise. Silence settles, although neither of you break the intense eye contact you’re sharing.

“Y/N…”

“Yes, Steve,” you whisper, leaning forward ever so slightly.

Your eyes flick down to his lips and then to his chest. The ascot has been discarded and his jacket removed. His blue silk dress shirt is mostly unbuttoned now, and you long to run your fingers down his smooth chest, to grab onto his skin, to feel it against yours. He reaches out, placing one hand on each side of your face. His eyes dart around you, drinking you in.

“I love you. I should have said it a long time ago, but I just was scared. I loved you so much that the thought of you not loving me back physically hurt. I was afraid that you wouldn’t want me, and I just-”

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to cup his face. You smush his cheeks a little to get him to stop speaking. His eyes recenter on yours and he gazes into you. “I love you, too. I always have. Why do you think you were the first person I called? The first one I thought of? Because you’re the one I want to be there when I need someone. You’re the one I want.”

He jolts forward, pressing his lips onto yours. You yelp with surprise but quickly kiss him back, winding your hands around his neck and threading your fingers into his soft chesnut hair. His hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips are perfectly soft, tasting like cigarette smoke in your mouth. When you pull back, you press your foreheads together and giggle.

“I love you so much,” he says. “Sorry to keep saying it but I just wanna say it all the time now. Every second of every day.”

“No complaints from me,” you respond and chuckle.

He smiles and presses his lips to yours again, leaning back onto the couch and pulling you down with him. Yeah, you definitely made the right call.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Reblogs, likes, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

**If you notice any triggers or grammatical errors that I missed, please let me know! :)

taglist: @mrsjna @floralcyanide @austinbutler17 @slutforsomegoodlettuce @cb97slut @datsavageavenger @misspygmypie @yourfriendhenrywinter @queenslandlover-93 @kittenlittle24 @slutforblueeyes @theliterarybeldam @guns-n-queen @x-earthangel @adoreyouusugar @butler-trouble @kaycinema @mamaspresley @dontbesussis @littledanette @yagirlalexx @hangmanswhore @dark-as-love @adoreyouusugar @gemstone9 @austin-butlers-gf @dollfaceyourfear @dances-and-dolly-dresses @coldonexx @austin-butlers-gf @sagesolsticewrites @mommy-maia @atombombbibunny @lexlexl3x @solo-pitstop-vibes @hopefulinlove @lordandmistress @domaniquessidehoe @elvismylove-blog @amiets2 @itsametaphorbriansblog @deitysdream

[hourglass-dreams]

Since Dolores associates Bruno with the sound of falling sand, what about the other family members? ❤ these are my headcanons for that.

Abuela Alma: the flame crackling from the miracle candle 🕯

Julieta: cooking/baking or utensils clinking together. (Possibly injuries being healed as well) 🍞

Pepa: rain and wind 🌧

Félix: guitar strings and parties (I saw somewhere that Félix loves playing guitar❤) 🎸

Isabela: plants sprouting, leaves/petals falling and people fawning over her (mostly when she was "perfect") 🌸🌵

Luisa: muscles straining and things being picked up/dropped 💪

Camilo: people laughing and transformations 🎩

Mirabel: the flutter of butterfly wings and accordions 🦋🪗

Agustín: pianos, branches being cut down and bees (you know, besides him falling) 🐝 🎹

Antonio: giggling and animal noises (probably hears her little brother being swung through the air and it terrified her 😅) 🐯

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Hi once again! It’s 🦋 anon😭 I’m going to re-ask mr ask that I had earlier. I have been going through a very hard breakup recently and I was wondering if I could have a comfort ask of moth baby comforting the reader? I honestly just want poor baby to hug me as I cry and snuggle into his fur. That would honestly be super nice to do that:( or maybe just moth baby wrapping me up in a warm blanket and trying to make me feel warm and happy:( sorry about such a sad ask but if you can do this I’d be very happy! And if not that’s 100% ok! Remember to drink and eat!!! Anyways have a wonderful day :) 😌

of course my dear 🦋 anon!!! i'm so sorry you had to go through something like that :((( if you need anything else i'd be happy to help!!!!

i've said it before and i'll say it again- Foul Legacy is incredibly in-tune with your emotions, and if you're sad, he's sad and also worried!! if you're the type to keep outside events under wraps he'll be fretting, wondering what happened and how he can help, because there must be a way to help!! he'll let you tell him everything that happened, who or what you're upset with and why, how horrible you feel, all while nodding and cooing as he hangs onto every word

but sometimes you don't want to talk. sometimes you just want to hold out your arms and silently ask for a hug, one Childe will gladly give, his claws running up and down your back. when it becomes clear that you're not going to pull away, he lifts you onto his lap, sitting in front of the fireplace that always crackles when it's chilly. even so, Childe drapes a blanket over you and adjusts so you can lean against his soft lavender fluff, brushed and fluffed just for you. and you cry, quietly, into your hands, as he purrs for you, chest rumbling and sending comforting warmth through your whole body

when you're sniffling, wiping away your shed tears, he'll try to get you to sip water and eat something small, to hydrate you after crying. if you refuse, he'll pout and whine, looking at you with a big, sad eye and pushing the water towards you insistently. he croons what might be "good job" after every bite and sip you take, because he's truly proud of everything you've done, everything you've gone through

and it feels nice in his arms- safe, like nothing could ever hurt you again

[witchthewriter]

Hi! How are you? I was wondering if I could have a level 6 ship with ACOTAR, Twilight and House of the Dragon if that’s not too much trouble?

So about me :

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: I think I’m straight…

Height: 170cm/5’7 ft

Body Type: Inverted triangle

Skin tone: Olive skin

Hair: Armpit length, dark brown and wavy

Eyes: Almond shaped, dark brown

Style: Casual chic

Zodiac signs: Taurus Sun, Virgo Rising, Cancer moon and Aries Venus

Mbti: INFJ

Moral Alignment: Lawful Good

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Favorite food: Ice Cream

Things I love: reading, drawing, writing, cooking, walking, daydreaming, sleeping, rainy days, cookies, gardening, listening to music, animals, cherries, watching Youtube and surfing on Tumblr.

Love Language: Acts of Service and Physical Touch

Personality : I'm an introvert, but I can act as an extrovert. I'm really sarcastic, I hate confrontations, from the bottom of my heart, and most of the time I'm more of a diplomatic person. I’d describe myself as stubborn, intelligent, argumentative, hard-working, patient, emotional, creative, empathic, bossy, helpful, kinda bitchy when I’m angry and sensitive. 

I'm a really loyal friend and the mom of the group. I have all kinds of things in my bag: tissues, lip balm, pens, emergency numbers, etc. I'm the eldest, and I love my siblings, even though they drive me crazy most of the time. I love learning new things, reading new things.

My favorite colors are blue and purple, my favorite flower are cherry blossom and lotus and my birthstone is an emerald.

And I think that's it ^^. Thank you so much and have a nice day :)

Want one? Here be the rules 🦋🌈

𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛    𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐴𝑧𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑙! You would show him the softness that he needs. He’s been through a lot, especially in his childhood, and isn’t a very open person. His quiet personality would work so well with you, because although you aren’t the most loud person, you can hold a conversation. And you would keep him comfortable in both social and intimate settings. 

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Doesn’t want you to feel like you have to be with him. So committment was very difficult for Az. But once you prove to him that you want to spend the rest of your life with him, he’d tie himself to you in every way possible

・Doesn’t like going out all that much, prefers to stay home and spend time with you. Loves laying on the lounge with you on top of him, reading while the fire is crackling. 

・Towers over you - and makes you feel like a Hobbit at times, especially when you haven’t got heels on. 

・Calls you ‘sweetheart,’ ‘darling,’ ‘my heart.’But only when you’re alone.

・Being protected even when he isn’t there. Either there’s someone shadowing you so that no one will step out of line and hurt you, or socially everyone knows you’re Azriel’s, so no one starts anything with you. 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

Young and Beautiful by Joel Sunny

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔: ↬ Similar Personalities ↬ Morally Grey (Az) x Always Tries To Do The Right Thing (You) ↬ Would Die For Each Other

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐�� 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔: ↬ Soulmates

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢: He loves that you’re the mum friend. You’d become a member of the Inner Circle, and basically become everyones mum. High Lord Rhysand hasn’t eaten? EAT RIGHT NOW. I’LL MAKE YOU A SANDWHICH. Amren, the most fearsome person you’ve ever met? If you don’t drink that glass of water, you aren’t getting dessert! 

  He just loves how you aren’t afraid to fluff over people. And you know what? The whole Circle absolutely fcken loves it. 

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑: Would be Feyre! I think she would love how much you care for others. The fact that you labelled yourself the mum of the group; she'd absolutely adore you.

𝑊𝘩𝑖𝑐𝘩 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐼 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒: From Nesta's book 'A Court of Silver Flames', I think you're most like Gwyneth Berdara! Not sure if you've read the book, so I'll do my best not to spoil it. But she's a very gentle-natured diplomatic young woman. She's so gentle and caring and would do absolutely anything for her friends. Like Elain ... but more badass....

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒕:

It was by accident. Complete and total accident. You didn’t even know magical creatures could become domesticated! Let alone ... well, see for yourself:

The poor thing had a broken wing and you took pity on it. For weeks you had been visiting the creature, until Azriel followed you one morning and scared the living day lights out of you. 

   “I thought you had been seeing someone else-” He said with a sigh of relief.

”Ugh, nope. Just...” and then you stepped aside and showed Az the creature. 

𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐸𝑑𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛! He would be the best match because you need someone who is emotionally mature and aware. You would get fed up with someone who is absentminded. Edward would remember everything about you. 

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Always stands up for you, and if you’re ever in a bad situation, he’s always the first person who will help you

・Likes when you hum, or turn the music up and dance. Your happiness is his happiness

・He would be so awkward around your family for a while. Especially if you had siblings. He would want to get as far away from you as possible - he doesn’t want to take you away from your family. But you want him in your life. And he’s just going to have to deal with that!

・His love language is quality time and acts of service. You always have a clean car, perfect tyres and the best stereo. He wants to give you the best of everything actually.

・His nicknames for you are variations of your name. But the way he says it is always different from anyone else who does. It’s like he says your name with so much love that you always melt.  𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

Into My Arms by Midnite String Quartet

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔: ↬ Tough on the Outside, Soft on the Inside (Edward) x Soft on the Outside x Soft on the Inside (You) ↬ Mum Energy (You) x Dad Energy (Edward) ↬ Forbidden Love 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔: ↬ Beauty and the Beast

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢: Edward loves that he doesn’t have to change himself for you. That you don’t want anything but him. Sometimes he can think he isn’t enough, but you remind him that he’s perfect the way he is. 

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑: Alice Cullen. I think you two would have a lot of fun together. She would take you to the best shops and want to pick out new clothes for you. You love hearing about the visions she’s having. 

𝑊𝘩𝑖𝑐𝘩 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐼 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒: I think you’re a mixture of Angela and Esme. You’re very kind-hearted and intelligent. You’d never leave anyone out, and people love being around you because of how attentive you are.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒕:

Given to you when you were younger by your parents, this little kitty has been by your side for everything. Named after Betty Boop, she wasn’t so sure about Edward for a while. 

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐃

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐴𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑇𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑒𝑛! He would absolutely love that you have such a big heart. He would find how much you care quite odd. And the fact that you show your love so openly - it astounds him. 

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Feels the most safe, and welcomed is when he’s with you. He honestly doesn’t feel comfortable unless you’re around

・Whenever you’re upset, he will get ready to literally kill that person. You’ve had to calm him down on multiple occassions because he was actually going to.

・His love language is acts of service and words of affirmation. The latter is how he likes to receive love. 

・Will always bring you back gifts whenever he’s off travelling. Not that he travels often, but when it calls for it, he will bring you something special. 

・Likes when you braid his hair. He’ll wear it to bed and wake up with wavy hair. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

True North by Joseph Trapanese

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔: ↬ “I love you!” (You) x “You shouldn’t!” (Aemond) ↬ Chaotic Dumbass (Aemind) x That’s My Chaotic Dumbass And I Love Him (You) ↬  𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔: ↬ Only One Bed

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢: Your loyalty. That you always have something in your satchel that will help any situation. 

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑: Would definitely be Rhaenyra! She would take you out of your comfort zone, and give you the confidence that you sometimes lack. I think you’d also be like a big sister-mother figure, with your caring ways and gentle aura. 

𝑊𝘩𝑖𝑐𝘩 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐼 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒: I think you’re a mix of Rhaenys II and Heleana. Both dreamy but alert and responsible.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒕: You would be the rider of Dreamfyre, the she-dragon who had hatched during the reign of Aegon I, the Conquorer. She’s smaller than Caraxes but larger than Syrax. 

[catsofimperium]

Decay

The first time Crackle had arrived at the capital, he had been greeted by a butterfly. He remembered watching the sheen of its emerald wings as it went in circles in the great, blue sky. One couldn’t see such beautiful creatures in the wastelands, nor did the sky ever look this clear, Crackle’s yellow eyes widening in awe. 

However, when it kept falling down, down, down, it made his lava boil in alarm. 

“Stay away from me,” he said, backing up and burning the grass below, “Please, I don’t want to hurt you!”

The butterfly continued its descent, floating with such grace, seeming to be ignoring the flowers and just fixating on the cat. 

“Stop! Stay away! Don’t you understand? I’ll kill you!”

Crackle hissed, backing away. Yet, he tripped on the suffering grass and soon stumbled onto his belly. He looked up, freezing at the wings present in his direct vision. 

The butterfly landed on his nose and, within moments, it burst into flames right in front of his eyes. Green became black, crumbling like an old statue atop his snout. 

Crackle had burst into tears as he watched it be carried away with the wind, not caring that the area around him was becoming completely burnt. 

“That wouldn’t have happened if you had practiced the least bit of caution, you know,” a voice said, causing the cat to turn to it. 

A Lucern stood there, with his gray-webbed wings stretched out, eyes with sharp pupils matching their hue. Their glow was subdued from the sunlight, watching as warm streams ran down Crackle’s face. 

That was how he met Darian.

@caxycreations

[twstbookclub]

Tickled Pink, But It's a Skill Issue

Summary: Idia is anything but thrilled at the soulmate mark on his wrist. After meeting his soulmate on one sunny day though, he's having second thoughts. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender Neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa 🦋 Tags: Comedy, Slight Angst, Romance, Fluff, Soulmate AU, Minor Swearing, Idia Gamer Speak, The Absolute Cringelord that is Idia Shroud, and Minor Book 6 spoilers

Word Count: 1,218

Idia Shroud stared at the words tattooed on his wrist with a grimace. Throughout his eighteen years of living, it still baffled him that the words he was born with cursed with, more like it were four words that made him want to shrink from embarrassment. Anyone else might have wondered about their soulmate once they saw their mark, but Idia might as well die from cringe.

“Your hair is pretty,” he muttered, shuddering. Really? Idia would rather have anything—anything, really—for a soulmate mark. What kind of soulmate’s first words to him would be about his hair, an untamed trail of flames and emotion? Emotions that made it obvious to anyone that he’s either angry or embarrassed? Emotions bearing impossible dreams, brutally crushed during his childhood? Idia would rather his soulmate curse or insult him for how much of a shut-in he is. If he was going to take the L and spend the rest of his life with this one person, at least make it believable.

Must be a normie hopeless romantic, Idia thought as he tapped and typed on his holographic screens. The type who dreams of a knight who saves them from a dragon for an RPG quest. Just like those prissy, trash-tier snobs at RSA. Just like a cliché romance plot in a B movie.

Idia knew he shouldn’t think of his soulmate like this before even meeting them. People his age already found their soulmates at this point. Couples holding hands in the park, sharing a drink in the restaurant booth, and all of the typical, mushy, lovey-dovey things people in love do. Well, people that aren’t the Shroud family. With how robotic they are, Idia doubts if the Shroud pair ever fell in love. He didn’t care to know about how his parents found each other. Even if he was curious as a kid, his parents never gave him the time of the day. Not when they were too busy to even look at their children who were going to inherit the fate of the Shrouds.

A faint crackle made Idia glance at the lock trailing down his shoulder. The orange tips of his hair shone like the beginning of twilight in his room, which was Idia’s cue to calm down. He huffed, subconsciously typing more aggressively than usual, and willed himself to forget his feelings. The thought of his soulmate always worked him up, or was it his parents?

“Who cares? I need to log in and do my dailies. I don’t want to break my log-in streak just because of this.”

Idia spent another evening in his room with nothing but his games, shoving ridiculous sentiment aside and waiting for Ortho to come back from class.

The next day was supposed to be ordinary, bleak, uneventful. Idia only went outside the comfort of his room to grab the newest video games and manga he ordered. Classes should’ve kept every NRC student busy. He could’ve slipped in and out of daylight without anyone noticing him.

“Your hair is pretty.”

Why is the Ramshackle Prefect here? Better yet, why did the universe give him a soulmate that was always surrounded by drama? Is he the main character of some sick comedy? Are the gods making fun of him at this point?

Idia Shroud, a stuttering coward in the crowd and a callous bastard behind the monitor, wanted to disappear right then and there. The tips of his hair flickered between fiery red and hot pink. His amber irises switched from the Prefect’s eyes, the cobblestone of Main Street, the Lord of the Underworld’s statue, and back to the Prefect’s eyes before he remembered that he shouldn’t be looking at them in the first place.

Maybe Idia should’ve worked on that drone to grab his deliveries for him. Maybe he could’ve avoided this outcome. Then again, if he couldn’t avoid his fate of being stuck as the Watchman, Idia could never run away from this even if he tried to.

He knew your name. Everyone does. You were the infamous magicless student in Night Raven College. You always found yourself in troublesome situations and with the SSR Epic Troublemakers. Riddle Rosehearts? Leona Kingscholar? Azul Ashengrotto? Does he need to list more of them to get the point across?

More importantly, you’re his soulmate. You. His. Idia’s mind was on the verge of a shutdown until he remembered that he should reply to you instead of standing like a spooked cat drenched in the rain.

“What’s a normie like you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be in class with the monster kitty?”

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why was his literal default being an asshole? His soulmate is standing not more than a meter in front of him, and he called them a normie. Brilliant. Can’t he level up his Charm stat just this once? Is he seriously having a skill issue right now?

While Idia was handling an internal battle with himself, you raised a brow. Oh no. He’s done it. Here comes the insult, the slap, the animosity he’s familiar with.

Except, you weren’t all those things.

“Did you just call me a normie?” You laughed, crossing your arms and grinning. The sound echoed in his ears, rattled his mind, and stole his every thought. Suddenly, Idia wanted to hear more of it. Honestly, this entire scenario feels like it was ripped out of a dating sim. This was getting into dangerous territory.

Idia’s hands hovered over his chest as he watched the magicless prefect. His shoulders visibly relaxed, but his fists clenched ‘til his knuckles turned ghostly pale. Well, that’s a first.

You kept going, undeterred by his insult, “It’s none of your business. I just wanted to say your hair’s pretty. Shouldn’t you be in class?”

You… didn’t know him. Idia didn’t know whether he should collapse from relief or cry about how invisible he was to you. Is this what it felt like to be a forgettable side character in a Triple-A game? Since when did it matter what you thought of him? Since when did he decide that you calling his hair pretty wasn’t cringe? Since when did his hair glow bright pink?

“Nevermind. I don’t have time for this.” You shook your head and walked around him. Idia almost grabbed your wrist out of instinct. As if this scene was straight out of a shoujo manga where the main character tries to reach out to her love interest before confessing. His hand shot back to his chest as if he was burned.

Oh great Seven, he’s turning into a walking cliché at the sight of his soulmate.

Idia’s heart jumped into his throat when you looked back at him with a knowing smirk. One that he knows will damn him for the rest of his life just because he wanted to get his video games and manga. Idia wanted to die on the spot at what you told him next.

“Look, you’re hot and all, but seriously? Pro tip: don’t insult your soulmate on sight. Make a better first impression next time, alright?”

Oh.

Oh.

Idia will make damn sure that he finishes that drone before he sees you again. Otherwise, he’ll combust on the spot and the pink flames will be screaming his infatuation for you.

[brumeraven]

🦋: The Corner || gross, decay, depression, existential despair, fatigue, generational trauma, helplessness, you can decide whether this is a prequel and/or sequel

It's the smell that hits you first.

Door was only half open when it struck me like a fist. A mix of piss and vinegar, half-dry in hair matted, sticky, and tangled. The smell of a dying dog that hasn't been washed in months, laying in its own filth and rotting inside and out.

The girl who'd answered looked nothing of the sort. Exhausted and unshowered, sure, but with the general air of someone who'd worked too many hours for too long, not the sort to wallow in feculent misery. I knew death when I smelled it and her body was still alive below the eyes.

"Hi. …can, um, can I help you…?" She stood half-behind the half-open door, using it as cover or perhaps a sort of armor in a social conflict she'd rather avoid. Justifiably so; this wasn't exactly a pleasant conversation I was looking forward to either.

"Miss." I rested a hand on the ornate hilt of my sword, by way of implicit greeting, threat, and badge of office. "I think you know why I'm here."

Truth was, I was here only because I was the most junior on duty, and dispatch was tired of fielding complaints from the neighbors.

She blinked, confusion writ plain on her face for a moment before recognition slowly dawned and cleared it away, her brows furrowing with concern. "The…oh, can others smell it too now? Sorry, I…forget sometimes. Most times."

"Yes, the smell."

Forget it? How?! It was none of my business how people lived, so long as they kept it within their own walls, but this was putrescence, its contamination seeping into the lives of everyone around her.

"Well…come in. I've complained so many times I've given up at this point."

She stepped to the side, opening the door wide, and I crossed the threshold, gagging on bile as my stomach threatened to empty itself in response to the chill, miasmatic wave that greeted me indecently.

It wasn't my imagination. I was sure of it after a few moments.

The room was colder than the outside, the hairs on the nape of my neck pricking, as if I were being observed by something unknown and unseen.

She couldn't smell, but could she feel nothing? It was freezing in here.

"Are you going to help? Look around and figure out what's wrong? I was expecting maintenance, not the Authority…" her hands dry-washed themselves nervously, but the anxiety didn't touch her face, lifeless eyes still hollow and tired.

I followed her to the living room, half-listening as she continued to speak resignedly. "People keep telling me that nothing's wrong, that I just need to clean up or shower or something, but I've tried everything…"

"It's worst in here," she offered, as if it were an apology.

I braced myself to set eyes on a corpse or some horror beyond my comprehension but it was just...nothing. A perfectly normal living room, drapes and armchair and crackling fireplace and all.

She wasn't kidding, though. Breathing through my mouth did little to abate the acrid stench that tore at my senses, demanding my every moment of attention and making it difficult to even form the words I'd rehearsed.

"When…when did all this first start?" I managed in between dry heaves. My eyes ran over the room, but nothing was out of the ordinary, no stains on the carpet, no damaged walls or ceiling, no blood, no waste.

"What do you mean 'start?'"

I stared as she sank heavily down into the armchair in the corner of the room. Her confusion seemed genuine. Had it always been like this? That couldn't be possible.

"The smell. When did…" I looked around, gesturing vaguely to the empty room. "…when did you first notice it?"

A bitter croaking cut through the air with enough force to slice through the stench, at least temporarily. I whirled back around to face her, wondering what could have drawn such a horrific sound from a human throat to find her doubled over and quaking.

Racked by sobs? Or laughter? The thought floated, suspended in time as I stared into her fear-filled eyes, wondering how it was they'd found life again, wondering why they were fixated on my swordpoint.

When had my hands found and drawn my sword unbidden? What had made me do so?

A glance revealed nothing unusual in the room.

Drapes and armchair and lit fireplace. White carpet and white walls and white ceilings. Barren bookshelves and uncluttered corners and unlit floorlamps and too much empty space.

"It's always been there. No one ever believed me."

Fear quickened my pulse, my stomach churned as that putrescence burrowed into my marrow, clawing at my soul.

Another elegy of acrimonious laughter froze me in place. The room was empty but for the girl and me, yet it wasn't mine, and it wasn't hers.

Empty and cold.

Lifeless for all its drapes and armchair and cold fireplace. Hollow for all its white carpet and white walls and white ceilings. Empty but for its barren bookshelves and the thing in the corner and its unlit floorlamps.

Someone screamed.

It must have been me, for her lips didn't move, only offered a wry smile, sad and apologetic.

The thing behind her smiled as well, no less sad for lacking a mouth, no less apologetic for my blade having pierced through where one should have been.

The steel was the keenest one could buy. Its edge should should have rent flesh from bone, shattered cogwork, cleaved Flux in twain.

With a wet sucking, the thing pulled itself off the blade and retreated, leaving behind ink-black clawprints on the fine upholstery of her chair.

She buried her face in her hands as it slowly pulled away, the raveled thing shambling awkwardly back to the corner, dragging its profane form across the carpet, hair and feces and afterbirth staining everything it touched.

"You should go. Thank you for trying. No one else could ever see it." She sighed softly and closed her eyes, giving her head a small shake. "You'll stop smelling it eventually."

A final apology, I suppose.

She thanked me, shuddered and went still, looking rested at last.

I left without my sword. Couldn't be bothered to pull it back out of the armchair.

I suppose she was right. I don't smell it much anymore. Don't carry a sword either. What's the point? Some things can't be killed. Some things can't even be fought.

I do still hear that bitter laugh, croaked out through a clenched throat in between rasps and wheezes. And then I wonder, how long before others start to smell it?

How long until others start to see the thing crouched in the corner of my office?

~🦋

[lonsdalewrite]

2023 Writing Review + December Writing Summary

This was a very productive year! I actually entered A Summer with the Immortal in a pitch event (though nothing ended up coming of it), finished the first drafts of The Claws of the Ounce and The Gift of Gloves, and started two new projects. June and July were the two most productive months I've ever had!

This month, I had kind of bad writer's block so I didn't reach any of my goals. At least I got something done.

A summary of my current WIPs (for both December and the year as a whole) under the cut:

THE CLAWS OF THE OUNCE 🫀

FIRST DRAFT

Words written this year: 63,706

Total word count: 114,730

Date completed: July 31

SECOND DRAFT

Current word count: 25,400

Words written / added this month: 4,000

Current chapter: 7 out of 28

Snippet:

Three seconds of clicking scissors, and Ash’s whiskers lay in the sink. A delicate arrangement of silver threads over white porcelain, one crisscrossing over the other two. They looked like… Like nothing at all.

Notes:

A third of the words for the first draft were written during Camp NaNo.

I really like the way the second draft (kind of a rewrite lol) is going, even if it's slower than I expected.

Goal for January: Get to 30K. (Setting them really low this time.)

Goal for 2024: Start querying it.

THE GIFT OF GLOVES 🧤

FIRST DRAFT

Words written this year: 25,025

Total word count: 38,725

Date completed: August 20

SECOND DRAFT

Current word count: 4,275

Words written / added this month: 1,038

Current chapter: 2 out of 9

Snippet:

And then, like a lightning bolt crackling into the earth, a revelation came to her. The restlessness in her heart awakened and roared out in joy. She’d found something. By all the spirits of the world, she’d found something.

Notes:

This story just doesn't want to be written quickly. Progress was really slow this year again (apart from June, when I got a sudden burst of inspiration and wrote 7K for it).

Goal for January: Get to 10K.

Goal for 2024: I don't even know...

FOREST IN A SHADOW BOX 🦋

Date started: June 1 ("officially" - I wrote the prologue back in March)

Word count: 33,585

Words written this month: 2,045

Current chapter: Just finished 10 out of 25!

Snippet:

The moss-covered statue at the city’s border was a familiar face. (Well, a familiar torso and pair of legs, at least. Most of its upper half was too overgrown and eroded to really be knowable.)

Notes:

This is the sequel to A Summer with the Immortal, and tbh the reason why trying to get ASwtI trad-pubbed makes me nervous. I guess if ASwtI doesn't sell well enough for a sequel, I can always share FiaSB some other way...

Goal for January: Get to 40K.

Goal for 2024: Finish the first and second drafts.

THE MYSTERIES OF THE APRICOT SUN 🌇

Date started: October 3

Word count: 11,560

Words written this month: 2,755

Current chapter: Just finished 4 out of 32!

Snippet:

Darby spun on her heel and dashed between the two nearest palms. She accidentally bumped against one of them, and had to dodge the bird-catching tendril that flickered out of its crown with a dry shkt. Luckily, she managed to do so without losing any speed. Sorry, tree, for triggering your reflex. No food for you right now.

(I drew a different moment from this scene! Please look at it, I'm really proud of it.)

Notes:

Writing this story feels great, because I've had the seeds of it taking up space in my brain for a good while now.

Goal for January: Get to 20K.

Goal for 2024: Finish the first draft.

Tag list: @kirsten-is-writing @emwhyarentyouwriting @time-to-write-and-suffer @unstablewifiaccess @ashen-crest

[verneandprince]

🦋 MARIPOSA 🦋 Chapter 1 has officially dropped! Check the link and follow for more!

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"You know how to have fun, hm?" Nick said, low and heated. It hardly sounded like him. He let his arms loop around Lex's waist in an easy embrace and enjoyed every breath of his earthy, spiced scent.

Lex grinned. "Sí," he said quietly. "You want to have fun with me?"

He raised his head, pulled two white pills from his pocket, and popped one into his mouth. Nick watched, riveted, as Lex held his gaze with a wide grin, the pill settled in the center of his long, pink tongue. Then, he pulled it back into his mouth and swallowed it dry before lifting the second pill in offering.

Nick blinked and shifted his focus to the pill. Reality snapped through the hazy fog of growing arousal. God, he'd never even smoked pot before, his common sense cried. What was it? What if it was addictive? What if he had an allergic reaction? What if he got arrested? He had no identification, no phone, he'd be so screwed-

He looked at Lex again and the beginnings of a whirlpool broke back into the normal currents of his mind. Goddamn, he was such a stick in the mud. He was thirty-one at a concert in Mexico City on a road trip with a ridiculously sexy local, wrapped up in him, and he was thinking about allergies. This was a perfect setup for a midlife crisis. He should just lean into it.

"Okay," he breathed, despite the shock that crackled through him as a result. "But I've never done anything like it before."

Lex shook his head. "No worries," he murmured. "We have fun."

He dropped the pill onto his tongue like before, but this time, he pulled it back behind his teeth, leaned down, and closed the distance between their lips.

-

It's the worst day of Nick Smith's life. Divorced and disenchanted, it's only fitting that he's mugged and left for dead on an empty highway in Mexico. When a wandering group of vagabonds takes him in, he meets Lex Jimenez, a sensual local determined to bring him along for a wild ride. Will Nick stay in his cocoon, or will he become una mariposa?

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[silver-ace-of-spades]

The Blazing Silver Light of Paldea

Chapter 11: Electricidad

Silver and Gym Leader Iono the Jellyfish have a shocking battle, then Silver and Blaze meet Top Champion Geeta the Peahen.

Iono shocks them again but gets what she deserves: burned by Blaze.

Trans Geeta Trans Geeta

Silver and Blaze get gender euphoria from being called "hedgehog child" and "young cat" respectively :)

shorter chapter.

Silver says his first F-word (swearing TW)

🦋🦀🌱🦅🎵⚡☆♧◇☆◇◇♧◇◇☆♧☆

The livestream was about to start. Iono was setting up her camera when a certain hedgehog walked up to her.

"I'm ready to battle!" Silver said with a smile.

"Okay! Just a minute, and..." Iono pressed a button and the livestream began.

"Ello, ello, hola, ciao, and bonjour! We're live! I'm Iono the Jellyfish and you're watching the Iono Zone!" She cheered.

A subscriber named Ga1van noticed Silver and donated to ask what happened.

"Oh, thanks for... um... asking, Ga-one-van. Hope I pronounced that right. Uh... we decided to end in a tie because we got exhausted." He explained to the viewers.

"You heard it there, folks! Now, Silver, are you ready to battle me for the Gym Badge?"

Silver nodded. "Ready!"

"Okay. Go, Wattrel!" Iono shouted.

"Ha! Go, Pepper!"

It took a few turns, but Pepper was able to use Dragon Rage a few times to defeat Wattrel, and she took a bit of damage from Pluck.

"Okay, Bellibolt, I choose you!" Iono cheered.

Silver smiled and had Pepper use Dragon Rage again, but she missed, and got paralyzed by Bellibolt's Spark.

"Crap..." They muttered under their breath.

Bellibolt defeated Pepper, so Silver sent out Catnip, who started out with a Leech Seed. After a few Seed Bombs, Catnip defeated Bellibolt.

Next was Luxio, who managed to flinch Catnip on the first turn, but Catnip set up a Leech Seed the next turn and eventually defeated Luxio.

"Okay, it's come down to you, Mismagius!" Iono cheered as she threw her final Pokéball. "Terastallize!"

A viewer named V0lt-B0lt donated and said "Electro-Magius time!"

When the crystals shattered, Mismagius was an Electric-Type. She hit Catnip with a Confuse Ray, but he broke through and planted a Leech Seed. The battle was most likely won, unless Silver got unlucky. Fortunately, they lucked out and defeated Iono.

"Heh, nice job, Challenger Silver!" The livestreamer said with a chuckle. She held out her hand for a handshake, and Silver grabbed it. Electricity surged from her hand into his body and he went stiff as his quills stood on end.

"Ngh! Not again!!!" He shouted.

Iono giggled and let go of Silver, who was scorched from the shock. Sparks crackled from their smoking quills and they were covered in soot. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

Silver coughed up a few puffs of smoke, then giggled. "My brain tickles..." He stumbled dizzily and fell to the ground, then started panting heavily. He gasped and coughed, which worried the livestream chat.

Ga1van donated again with the message "Are you okay, Silver?"

"Yeah. Thanks." He got his inhaler out and used it, then breathing became easier.

Blaze, who was watching from the side, jumped over the fence and onto the battlefield like a badass to check on her friend. "You okay?"

Silver got up and put a hand on their chest, then spoke. "Y-yeah... just disoriented... and a bit sore..." They reached a hand behind their head, grinned, let out a little wheezy chuckle, then kept speaking. "Ow... Can't believe I fell for that trick twice..."

"Hehe, I'm really sorry." Iono told him. "Challenger Silver, here is the Levincia Gym Badge!" She gave him a badge with a lightning bolt, but Silver hesitated to take it.

"Um... I don't feel like being shocked again..." He said with a nervous and wheezy laugh.

"I won't shock you, I promise." Iono giggled mischievously.

Blaze decided to grab the Badge, and while Iono did shock her with her electrokinesis, Blaze burned the woman with her pyrokinesis. Silver watched the handshake and laughed. They ended up covered in soot and scorched. Blaze and Iono coughed up a few puffs of smoke, then grinned.

"I had it coming. Ow, that stings..." Iono chuckled.

"Don't dish it out if you can't take it. Ngh! My muscles are cramped..." Blaze giggled. They gave Silver his Gym Badge. "I got the badge."

The teens shook most of the soot off of themselves, then got on Miraidon and went to the Gym to verify Silver's victory.

When they got there, they saw a dark blue peahen woman with black, blue, and yellow feathers. She wore a suit and stood professionally.

"Hehe, Ms. Iono got you kids, huh?" She giggled.

"Yep." Silver muttered. "It was a pretty shocking experience." He laughed for a few seconds until it triggered a coughing fit.

"Are you okay, hedgehog child?" She asked.

"My... binder's... kinda... tight..." Silver coughed for another few seconds and tugged at his shirt.

"Why did you put it back on?" Blaze asked concernedly.

"D-dysphoria..." Silver spluttered out. They excused themself to the bathroom and took their binder off, then used their inhaler to help them breathe.

"I'm back." Silver said before coughing loudly for yet another few seconds. "Sorry. Throat still hurts."

Blaze helped the hedgie catch his breath by doing the speaking for a while.

"Oh, young cat, are you the hedgehog's friend?" The woman asked.

Blaze beamed with delight and showed their fangs. "Yes I am!"

"Wow... Cough! ...you're pretty cheery." Silver chuckled.

"She got my gender right!" Blaze giggled excitedly. "You know how you said that you're not a boy or girl, just a hedgehog?"

Silver nodded. "That... happened this morning."

"I'm not a boy or girl. I'm Blaze the Cat. I lean more girlish but I don't fully identify with being a girl."

"Of course I wouldn't assume." The woman smiled and showed off her flashy tail feathers. "Hehe, peahens don't usually have flashy feathers like mine." She said with a wink. Silver and Blaze's eyes went wide.

"Y-y-you're... you're..." Silver gasped.

"A trans woman. I'm Geeta, Paldea's top champion." She grinned. "A pleasure to meet you, um..."

"Silver."

"Champion Nemona told me about a Silver the Hedgehog. Are you him by any chance?" Geeta asked.

"How many hedgehogs named Silver are there in Paldea?" He joked.

Geeta chuckled, then turned to Blaze.

"Oh, young cat, what's your name?" She asked.

"Blaze. You're so cool!"

"I want the people of Paldea to be comfortable as themselves." Geeta said. She turned to Silver and smiled. "Challenger Silver. Should you choose to become a Champion, you'll have to battle me."

"Ha! Get ready!" The hedgehog said with a confident grin.

The teens waved goodbye and went back to their hotel to shower, then discussed their plan for the rest of the day, since it was only 3:17 PM.

"My muscles ache too much to go shopping today." Silver groaned. He coughed twice and sighed. "Plus my lungs are still a bit fucked."

"Yeah... My muscles ache too..." Blaze sighed. "Getting shocked twice was no fun."

"Good for you for giving Iono a taste of her own medicine." Silver grinned. They coughed loudly a few times and Blaze covered her ears.

"Oof, that cough sounded painful. We should definitely call it a day." They said with a frown.

"It was." Silver muttered. "So what should we do?"

"Let's watch some Sailor Eevee." The cat told him.

"I like that idea." The hedgehog smiled.

The teens watched some Sailor Eevee and had a relaxing evening before going to bed.