#dew holds the test for him later if anyone was wondering

[miasmaghoul]

Feel free to share more of your high thots, I‘m listening intently

ok heres some swissdew heavy breeding stuff.

(small text for @belle--ofthebrawl because i have decided so)

Dew humping into Swiss so hard and quick at the height of his rut, grunting and sweating and digging harsh claws into soft hips. Leaking so much, pudgy little knot almost ready to pop. 

He jabs desperately at Swiss, so uncoordinated and out of sorts and animalistic that Swiss cant help but pull desperately at himself and moan. Dew's so close to shoving it in, but its all so wet and Swiss won't stop fluttering and clenching and oh no - 

Dew cries out, pained, when a too eager pull of his hips unsheaths him entirely. Howls as his rock hard, red stiffy glides between Swiss cheeks, begging the ghoul beneath him,

"No, no, don't do this to me -" 

It's too late though. Just a few more pumps before Dew's sobbing, knot popping into nothing while he cums in unsatisfying dribbles all over Swiss's lower back. He grabs at himself with shaky fingers, but it's not enough. No pressure less than Swiss's quivering, warm hole itself would do right now.

Dew shudders through his very much ruined orgasm, gasping and cursing with each pathetic squirt that pools at the base of Swiss's spine. Every inch of him burns, no relief to be found. His stomach still twists with the urge to claim, to breed, and the growl that bubbles up in his chest is completely involuntary.

Dew lines up and pushes back into Swiss's slick, velvety hole all at once, and howls. The heat of him is searing, Dew's cock so horribly oversensitive that he can hardly stand it. He hunches over Swiss's broad back, choking on the strangled moan the other ghoul gives him.

He drools onto Swiss's sweaty spine when the other ghoul clamps down around him. It's entirely too much, it makes him feel ill, but the urgency only grows. In the back of Dew's mind he knows it'll be a while before his body has more to give. Knows that his knot is still in the process of deflating, that his mindless rutting will get him nothing but more beautiful agony.

"Hold it this time," Dew rasps, adjusting his grip on Swiss's hips. Pushing him into a deeper arch that makes his hole look extra stretched. Dew winces. "Keep me inside, lemme - fuck, lemme fuckin' fill you up, you gotta-"

"Please," Swiss slurs, fucked out and groggy. The sound of his hand on his cock, loud and wet, complements the slap of his hips against Swiss's ass. He's on orgasm number three, Dew thinks. Working on milking out a fourth and clearly having difficulty.

Still, he begs. Dew loves that about him.

"Please, please give it to me." Swiss looks at him over his shoulder, and Dew sees real desperation in his golden eyes. "Get it deep inside, make my belly hot."

Oh the sound Dew makes at that.

"Yeah," he breathlessly agrees, sweat dripping from his nose to join the spot he's been drooling on. Dew wants to drag he tongue through it - so he does. Laps at Swiss's skin like a thirsty dog while his hands roam from Swiss's hips to his stomach. "Gonna get you so fuckin' fat with me."

He sinks his fingertips into the softness of Swiss's belly, arms tight around his waist, and then he's humping like a dog too. A bestial slave to the need burning through him.

"They're all gonna see," he pants, throbbing with every clench of Swiss's walls. "Swiss they're all gonna know -"

"That I'm yours," Swiss finishes for him.

And, well, Dew doesn't remember much after that.

[ratsoh-writes]

how would ht,uf, and ut brothers react to their crush making something like lunch for them and accidentally burning them sleds with water. Nothing too serious. But crush has sensitive skin, so it feels horrible.

that’s all, thanks :-)

Sans: big oof. Sans hears his crush’s shriek in the kitchen and the first thing he does is shortcut in. Seeing the burn on their arm, sans can tell it’s not life threatening, just really painful. He hisses at the sight as he walks over to inspect it. Yea that sucks. It’s a real pain. It’s really fowl..

Crush hears the slight change in his voice with dawning horror at what they know is coming.

“Water you doing?? You dew know you aren’t supposed to pour towards you (crush)~ the waters real pot! If you just wanted to tide yourself over I could’ve-“

Crush is so disgusted at the bad jokes that they hadn’t even realized the pains disappeared yet. Sans pulled a quick heal job during his verbal crime against comedy

Papyrus: like the charismatic heroic prince of a fairy tale- just before the hot water splashes crush, papyrus scoops them up in his arms out of the waters reach…. Then screeches something awful. He’s wearing his booty shorts again, meaning his legs are exposed. Poor paps knee has been burned by boiling water

“ARE YOU OK- OH F*CKING SH*T THAT HURTS-“

The pain didn’t hit him until a few seconds later clearly. Better get him an ice pack.

Red: when crush yelps, red shortcuts into the kitchen rapidly with all the focus of a well trained attack dog. His frantic entrance is so surprising crush briefly forgets the pain and instead looks at red wide eyed. Thinking it’s nothing serious because of that reaction, he flushes in embarrassment.

“T’ hell is that look for, I can’t be f*ckin worried?”

Oh right, he came in cause he heard crush’s cry. Aaand now they’re tearing up as the pain registers again. Reds eyes widen and he makes crush put their arm under running cold water.

Edge: like he’d let anyone cook alone. Even if it’s not his kitchen, edge insists on seeing the process of the food being made. Especially if he has to eat it. He has high standards after all. The second crush even motions to pour the pot of water into the strainer- towards themself- the audacity!!- edge grabs their wrists stopping them.

“HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING?? NO WONDER YOU ALWAYS BURN YOURSELF WHEN YOU COOK-“

And now crush is oh so generously gifted with a lecture on kitchen safety. Edge has effectively taken over the rest of the cooking for the night.

Oak: when crush yelps, oak doesn’t immediately react as the sound didn’t quite register right away. It’s only when he hears his crushs sniffles in the kitchen that he senses something is wrong. Walking inside, oaks eyes widen at the pot of spilled hot pasta, and his crush holding their hand. With a lot of restraint, oak ignores the wasted food to check and make sure crush is alright

“Oh geez, that’s painful looking buns, lemme get you some ice”

He does come back with the ice, but is stunned all over again when he sees pasta on the floor, asking if SO spilled it, like that isn’t obvious lol

Willow: “NOOOOOOOOOOOO THE STOVES STILL ON-“

It’s like a slow-mo scene in a movie where the hero attempts to stop someone from making a stupid decision but it’s obvious to the viewers that they’re too far away lol. Willow stretches out his hand, but despite the impressive length of his arms, he’s still too far to stop crush from trying to snatch a taste test of the steamed buns on the pan. The very very hot buns on the pan. Crush shrieks as their fingertips burn, and finally willow reaches them, snatching their hand away

“STARS ARE YOU ALRIGHT- I SAID THEY WEREN’T DONE!!”

lol he’s clearly caught in a war between worry and annoyance. This is why you don’t sneak taste tests before the food is ready!

[dankusner]

JD Vance’s ‘Hillbilly Elegy’ Memoir

It’s dripping with condescension for the white-working class he claims to represent.

When Hillbilly Elegy came out in 2016, author J.D. Vance cut a unique figure, attractive to liberals and conservatives alike.

The best-selling book traced his ascent from a dysfunctional family in Kentucky and Ohio to Yale Law, and suddenly Vance was everywhere.

He warned of a white working class in crisis and bemoaned the rise of Donald Trump, though his explanations were always limited in scope.

“During this election season, it appears that many Americans have reached for a new pain reliever,” he wrote in a piece for The Atlantic.

“It enters minds, not through lungs or veins, but through eyes and ears, and its name is Donald Trump.”

To him, Trump was a symptom primarily of cultural crisis, not racial resentment.

Vance sounds quite different now, at least on the surface.

Soon after Trump was elected, he began to grovel and was repaid with a Trump endorsement that helped make him a Republican senator from Ohio.

Today he is Trump’s running mate.

What happened, exactly?

“I don’t know why or how, but Vance became not a voice for the voiceless but an echo of the loudmouth,” wrote the conservative pundit Mona Charen in a 2021 piece for the Bulwark, adding that “the Republican base is so warped that ambitious men feel the need to sink into the sewer in search of political success.”

Charen doesn’t get it: Vance has always been a sewer creature.

Unlike Charen, I read Hillbilly Elegy in 2016 and promptly loathed its author.

I grew up in Appalachia, a region he attempts to diagnose, and his act repulsed me; it was fraudulent and reactionary all at once.

Since then he has changed his mind about Trump, but I don’t think he has fundamentally changed his perspective on the world.

If I’m right, then what we’ve seen from Vance is not some wholesale transformation but the work of a shapeshifter without peer.

He changes form, but not substance.

He adapts to fill whatever space he’s in because that’s what it takes to win power.

That shouldn’t surprise anyone who read Hillbilly Elegy.

In a scene that sticks with me even now, Vance attends a fancy dinner at Yale where he is entirely out of his element.

He orders a white wine, and when a server asks him if he’d prefer sauvignon blanc or Chardonnay, he thinks she’s “screwing” with him.

Later he asks for sparkling water, which he claims he has never consumed, and spits it out.

Then there are eating utensils, a bewildering number of them.

“Why, I wondered, did I need three spoons?” he writes.

He excuses himself, calls his worldlier girlfriend, Usha, for advice, and she tells him to start with the outside utensils and work his way in.

Thus educated, he performs well for the rest of the dinner and even lands a job offer at a law firm.

He is, after all, at Yale.

“The interviews were about passing a social test — a test of belonging, of holding your own in a corporate boardroom, of making connections with potential future clients,” he concludes.

Vance was somewhat correct here, and again when he observes that he has been playing a rigged game.

Successful people “don’t flood the job market with résumés, hoping that some employer will grace them with an interview,” he wrote.

“They network.”

When a person first confronts the realities of elite power, they have a decision to make.

Play along or burn it down.

Vance has always played along with whoever can offer him the most power.

He was never a voice for the voiceless, as Charen once called him; with his book, he sold out the working poor for prestige.

Hillbilly Elegy traded in old stereotypes about poverty and Appalachia and fed them to elites with resounding success.

When Appalachians object to a 2009 ABC News segment on a supposed epidemic of “Mountain Dew mouth” in the region’s children, Vance criticizes them.

Hillbillies, he argues, “tend to overstate and to understate, to glorify the good and ignore the bad in ourselves.”

In his family’s Kentucky hometown, the people “are hardworking, except of course for the many food stamp recipients who show little interest in honest work,” he complains.

After a pharmacy clerk forbade his uncle from playing with a toy, Vance’s grandparents entered the store and threw merchandise around while his grandmother screamed, “Kick his fucking ass!”

He may be telling the truth about his family, but the rest of his story is a

lie. Appalachia wasn’t impoverished by cultural decline or personal choices but by capitalist extraction and government austerity.

He says nothing useful about the region, whose residents defy caricature if you know or care for them at all.

Whatever concern Vance feels for the poor and working class is laced through with disdain.

Take the retail job that turned him into an “amateur sociologist,” he writes.

“I also learned how people gamed the welfare system,” he claims.

They’d sell the groceries they bought with food stamps, he claimed.

Some went through his checkout line while talking on their cell phones — the audacity!

“I could never understand why our lives felt like a struggle while those living off of government largesse enjoyed trinkets that I only dreamed about,” he writes.

In Hillbilly Elegy, he praises Charles Murray, infamous for his spurious theories about racial differences in IQ. Murray’s “seminal” book, Losing Ground, was simply “another book about Black folks that could have been written about hillbillies — which addressed the way our government encouraged social decay through the welfare state,” Vance writes, mingling Murray’s anti-Black junk science with his own skepticism of government aid.

Elites gobbled it up because he flattered and affirmed them, told them everything they wanted to hear about the masses at their door.

Lifted up by a few years in the Marines and by the Ivy League, to say nothing of his own ambition, Vance had become one of them.

It’s easy to write Vance off as a cynic who only believes in himself.

According to this view, he transformed himself in pursuit of power.

Vance is a striver, true.

That is evident in Hillbilly Elegy.

He’s also a person of real conviction.

That is evident in Hillbilly Elegy, too.

The book is deeply political.

In it, he imagines a different and more orderly America, where the church can teach “lessons of Christian love, family and purpose.”

He asks “hillbillies” if they are “tough enough” to admit their behavior harms their children.

Vance believes he has the moral authority to offer such lessons.

He writes that he escaped “the worst of my culture’s inheritance.”

To what end?

Though Vance was never a liberal, he’s soured on liberalism — and liberal democracy — since his public ascent in 2016.

(There’s an irony to that, given the book’s initial appeal to liberal audiences and its embrace by Hollywood.)

These days he promotes election denial and called for a Washington Post editor to be investigated for comparing Trump to a dictator.

“The professors are the enemy,” he said in a speech to the National Conservatism Conference in 2021.

Months later he told Vanity Fair that Trump, if re-elected, should fire “every civil servant in the administrative state” and “replace them with our people.”

In a more recent interview with Ross Douthat, he said, “The thing that I kept thinking about liberalism in 2019 and 2020 is that these guys have all read Carl Schmitt — there’s no law, there’s just power. And the goal here is to get back in power.”

As proof, he cited the sexual-assault allegations against Brett Kavanaugh, for whom his wife clerked, and the Black Lives Matter protests that erupted after the murder of George Floyd.

Vance probably overstates the influence of Schmitt, an antisemitic political theorist who joined the Nazi Party, on liberal Americans.

His defense of Kavanaugh and his implied criticisms of Black Lives Matter show a similar tendency at work.

Kavanaugh is now a Supreme Court justice.

The George Floyd protests are over, and nobody defunded the police. If this is how liberals bid for power, it’s not working.

What’s to fear? Yet to Vance, the very act of outcry is intolerable.

He is an authoritarian to his core.

When he “broke” with elites, he only broke with liberalism; his anti-democratic friends on the right are no less rarefied.

He has only shocked the gullible.

To them, he once seemed like a real working-class mouthpiece.

But he’s been something else all along, something equally authentic: an aspiring despot.

[abluescarfonwaston]

“Damnit Lambert!” He coughed violently. Rolling over to curl in on himself. “Why didn’t you warn me you had a bad batch of tawny owl?”

He wrapped the cut on his leg. Scrapping guts off his armor. “What are you on about. It was fine.” He wanted to roll up into a ball too but the cramping was only going to get worse and they still had to get a trophy off the damn thing.

“This,” Aiden groaned pathetically. “Is not fine.

“This is what fucking tawny owl does Aiden!” The pain making him snappish. “It helps and then it wears off and you want to claw out your guts. That’s how it fucking works cause this life is a goddamn nightmare!” He stabbed between the vertebrae hard and severed its head quickly.

“Fuck what?” Aiden rolled over. Sounding extra pathetic about it which just pissed him off more honestly. “Who taught you how to make potions Lambert? Cause I need to stab them.”

 He spun on him. Knife to his throat. “Don’t ever fucking threaten them Cat.”

Aiden watched him. His slow heart beating faster than Aiden’s. The stench of the corpse filling their noses. The potion curdling their guts. “Sorry.”

He hated that. How earnestly he apologized. He sat back against a rock. Stared at the things leathery skin. “Vesemir taught us.” Aiden waited. Or maybe he just couldn’t think of a response over the pain. “He was a fencing instructor. He taught us what he remembered but. It’d been a long time since he learned.”

“Lambert?” He groaned. “If this is what all your potions are like then destroying that bag would be an act of love for you and self-defense on my part.”

“They’re not. All this bad.” He defended but honestly some of them were far worse. “Swallow’s decent.”

“Lambert?” He grunted. “You’re a great fighter. But we are never using your potions again.”

He took a sip of the freshly made Petri’s Philter. To test it out. He’d made it like Aiden had shown him but it was the first time he’d done it himself.

“You cheater! Taking a potion before we spar!” Eskel cuffed him.

“I was checking if it came out right.” An idea popped into his head. “You can use one too. Petri’s Philter. See whose works better.”

“Not a fair comparison.” Geralt pointed out. “Eskels better at signs than the rest of us.”

“What are you scared?”

Eskel eyed him unimpressed but went to grab his. Took a swig. “How do we want to do this?”

“Who can toss Geralt the furthest?” He suggested ruefully.

Geralt’s protests when unheard as Eskel launched him into the base of a snowbank with Aard.

He glared at them. Covered in snow.

“Come on Geralt! It doesn’t count if we use a different person the second time.”

“I’m going to throw both you in the river.”

“Just the loser.” Eskel argued.

“Then I don’t get to throw you in.” He grumbled crossing the courtyard to them.

“Nah I’m willing to take that bet.” They both looked at him like he was being daft.

He adjusted his glove. Don’t fail me now Aiden. Launched Geralt into the air.

He landed with an oft and a puff of white snow. Halfway up the snowbank.

He grinned as they sputtered.

“Guess it works.”

“How’d you learn this Lambert?” Vesemir asked as he copied down the last recipe Aiden had had the chance to teach him.

“Found a cache with the information.” The cache was another witcher but he wasn’t going to tell them that.

“Right.” He felt Vesemir watching him. Not believing him.

He dug his heels in. He didn’t owe the old man answers. Didn’t breathe a word as a cold wind whipped through the giant hole in the wall. He wondered if the Cats had caused that one. He didn’t ask but he wondered.

“Aiden what did you use in this necrophage oil?” He sniffed the vial walking over to him.

He perked up from his disappointment over how many less necrophages he’d killed to tell him.

He laughed full bodied and loud. Aiden wasn’t smiling when he finally managed to stop, wiping a tear from his eye.

“I thought you were just shit at fighting but that’s garbage. What’s it supposed to do? Make them itchy? Impotent? Hurt their feelings?”

“Well how do you make them then?”

Next spring he wondered how many Cats were using Vesemir’s recipes.

“Damnit.” He cursed. Shoving the broken arm piece back together. Trying to sow the gash closed.

Aiden watched him from across the fire. Lazily rotating the fish they’d bombed from the water. “You really need to just replace that mutt.”

“Fuck off pussy I don’t have the diagrams on me and were nowhere near anyone who knows how to make it.”

“Well no one’s going to be able to figure out what it was supposed to look like from that.”

He stared at the mangled and ruined armor in his hands. His fingers dug in and the thread he’d used on it snapped. It fell back apart.

He tossed it away with a frustrated scream and ran. Ran until his lungs burned and his feet ached and the exhaustion finally over powered the anger.

Aiden was asleep in his bedroll. His fish still waiting for him- although they had long gone cold. He chewed the small bones not bothering to pick them out.

A small set of papers sat rolled next to it.

He unrolled it.

Kicked Aiden.

“I can’t fucking wear this!” He shoved the diagram back to him.

“It’d be just until you could get new armor. You can’t work in a shirt and pants.”

“Cause Cat armor is a huge step up from that!”

Aiden scowled at him. “Oh cause people thinking for half a second you might be a Cat is worth dying over. Just show off your medallion and bark at them. I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”

“You’re fucking right it is!” He grabbed his medallion and bared his teeth. “I’m not a Cat.”

They had murdered his school. Killed so many. Destroyed the closest thing he had to a home. It was a shitty home and he hated it. Some days he wished they’d finished the job. Some days he was glad he had a home at all.

Aiden face shuttered closed. “Well we can’t all be Wolves Lambert.”

In the morning he was long gone. The diagrams laying in the morning dew.

He picked them up.

However upset they’d be at him for wearing them wouldn’t match how upset they’d be if he didn’t come home. Probably.

He found a leatherworker and had a set made.

“What are you wearing?” Eskel blocked his entry. “I almost shot you Lambert.”

“Glad you didn’t.” He shoved him out of the way. “I’m tired. Piss off.”

He grabbed him. “If Vesemir sees you wearing that-“

“It was this or go without armor so Fuck Off Eskel.”

Eskel studied him. Let go. “Let me warn the others at least. You know that,” He motioned to the armor. “Is going to bring back bad memories.”

“Would you preferred I died out there?”

He raised his hands placating. “Didn’t say that. Happy you’re home.”

“Yeah well that makes one of us.”

No one asked about the armor. They left a set of wolf armor diagrams for him outside his door and he spent the winter in clothing and furs.

No one why he had cat armor. He didn’t offer to explain. He wouldn’t have answered if they did. Would have made it very clear it wasn’t a topic for discussion.

But no one asked.

He sat in his room and stared at it. It looked so similar to Aiden’s. Which of course it did.

We can’t all be wolves Lambert.

No. But why you have to be a cat? Anything else would have been fine.

He gasped short and quick and barely breathing at all. His eyes losing focus. Pinned to the tree by the dead monster’s antlers.

What a shitty way to go.

“Wooh. Glad I came. Thought I smelled wet dog.”

He raised his head. Vision spinning as he did.

A cat. His cat. Aiden.

The world went dark.

“Look who returns!” The fire popped as he opened his eyes. “Holding up alright?”

“Love questions like that.” He whispered as Aiden lifted his head and raised a potion to his lips. “Holding up? Holding up what? My dick?”

“Well you certainly are one so I wouldn’t put it past you.” The vial moved away. His head was lowered onto Aiden’s thigh.

“This is shit and you know it.”

“Yeah. It is.” Aiden craned his neck upward at the stars. “I was really looking forward to yelling at you.”

“Do it you pussy.”

“It’s no fun if your injured bitch.”

“What think I can’t take it?”

“Take what? My dick?” He chewed something loudly. “Come on. Even a lone hunter can use a helping hand some time.”

“Don’t quote Vesemir at me you prick.”

“Oh I’m a prick now? What an upgrade.” A different flask came back and he drank greedily. “And I wasn’t. Guxart said that.”

“Sounds like a dick.”

“No. I like dicks Lambert. He was pussy.”

He chuckled. Which hurt. It pulled at his wounds.

“Did you know it was me?”

“Knew it was a wolf.” He dropped some of the jerky on his chest. He nibbled on it. “Hoped it was you.”

“Would you have helped? If it wasn’t.”

He was quiet while he considered. If he weren’t so tired it would piss him off. “Yeah. I would have.” He believed him. Because it was Aiden. “Glad it was you though.”

“Why?”

“Cause I missed my mangy mutt. Who else is going to teach me how to fish with bombs?”

“I started building a boat. So I could do it on the lake.” He was starting to feel hazy. Aiden’s potions sometimes had painkillers going for them. Which was nice. “At Kaer Morhen.”

“Bet it’s going to leak like a drunkard.”

“Yeah. Bet it will.” He thought of the lake and keep. “I hate that place.”

“Can’t say I understand why you go back.”

“Why do you go back?”

“Go back where? At best the cats have a traveling caravan of misery these days. I don’t visit.”

“What? But winter sucks.”

“Not going to argue with that.”

He had a brilliant idea. “Come home with me. We can sink my boat together.”

Aiden looked down at him. So sadly. He reached up for him in confusion.

“They’re assholes but the keeps pretty big so we can just avoid them. We can sleep in my room. I’ve got a lot of nice furs. It’s pretty. Please?”

“Sure Lambert. Sure.” He cupped the hand that had found his cheek. Kissed it. “Don’t worry. I won’t hold that against you in the morning.”

“If you were there maybe I could breathe. Cause.” It was really hard to keep his eyes open. His hand was heavy in Aiden’s. “The one good thing this life gave me. Was there.”

“Love you Lambert. Love you too.”

“I asked you to come with me.” He said weeks later.

“I surprised you remember. You were pretty loopy at that point. Do you remember explaining why pigeons were the best bird too? Cause that was pretty funny.”

“You’re lying.”

“You wish I was.”

He scowled at him. “I don’t remember your answer.”

“I said I wouldn’t hold you to it in the morning obviously. I’m not stupid.”

“Oh.” The horses crunched gravel as they continued on. “I did mean it. I want you to come.”

Aiden kept his eyes ahead. “We both know that doesn’t matter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His horse picked up speed at his unintentional request. He tugged him in front of Aiden’s, halting him. “What I want doesn’t matter?”

“When has what we wanted ever mattered Lambert?” He flinched. Eyes stuck on Aiden’s reins.  “It was very sweet of you. But the other wolves would kill me for being in twenty miles of Kaer Morhen and we both know it.”

He couldn’t look away from his dark scarred hands. “Why’d you have to be a cat?”

“Why’d you have to be a wolf?” He moved his horse so they were side by side. Took his hand. “We get three out of four seasons together. That’s pretty damn good.”

“I want more. I want more than this life.”

“Hey. Maybe if you build good enough boats we can.” His hand squeezed. “We could be the first. Retire on some big lake and fish with bombs.”

“With a little house infested with mice because we can’t convince any cats to come within ten feet of us?” He into his golden eyes and for the first time could understand why people called them beautiful.

“With a tiny little house with a leaking roof that you always curse at.”

“We’re never going to get that are we?” He didn’t comment on the tears in Aidens eyes or the blur in his own.

“No.” Aiden squeezed his hand. “But it’s a nice dream isn’t it?”

“It’s awful. Why did you make the roof leak?”

“Why did you fill it with mice?”

“Cause I want it to be real.”

“So do I.”

They clicked their horses forward. Not letting go.

“So this house. Smells like rat shit huh?”

“Yeah. And our clothing gets all mildewy cause we just throw it in the lake to wash it and forget to hang it up.”

“Ugh. I hate that.”

“Yeah it’s awful.”

“But it’s ours?”

“It’s ours.”

“I had a friend. Aiden was his name.”

“Gonna retire to your vineyard wolf?”

“I might.”

“Good for you. Make sure Dandelion writes a song about your beer gut.”

“Lambert-“

“Pardon my interruption gentlemen.” Majordomo stepped into the room. “A gentleman just arrived looking for Master Lambert. It seems urgent.”

“Lambert?” Geralt shot him a confused look.

“Hey don’t look at me! I don’t know!”

“Let’s go met your guest.”

They pushed the door open and he looked to the left. Geralt to the right.

“Who are you?” Geralt asked. He turned to the newcomer.

He exhaled. “Aiden.” When he inhaled it was like coming up for air for the first time in months.

Scarred. Hair long. Covering one eye.

Alive.

“Hey Lambert. Been a while.”

“You fucking heartless asshole!” He yelled as he lifted him off the ground in a crushing embrace. “How fucking dare you.”

“Missed you too bitch.” As he attempted to break his ribs with the force of his hug. “Nice place you got here.”

“It’s Geralt’s and it sucks.”

“Yeah.” He mumbled into his ear. Not letting go. “Our place is gonna be way nicer.”

“With rat shit and everything.”

“Yeah.”

[cadence-talle]

Moonlight Burst Into the Room

Pairing: Marella Redek/Linh Song

Wordcount: 2,203

TW: mentions of transphobia 

Notes: For @marellinh-week-2020​! Doesn’t totally fit any of the prompts besides First Kiss/Confession so let’s just pretend I posted it then instead of several days late 

Taglist: @everyonehasthoughts, @clearlykeefitz, @loverofallthingssmart, @a-lonely-tatertot, @enbies-and-felonies, @molly-sencen, @lemontarto, @appalyneinstitute1, @ruewen-and-rising, @silver-snow, @linhamon-roll, @hyperlollypop, @never-ever-too-many-fandoms, @keeper-of-the-lost-queers, @impostertamsong, @vibing-in-the-void, @yeetersofthelostcities, @mistythegirlfluxmess, @diamond-dreamerr, @we-have-no-bananas-today, @an-absolute-travesty, @callas-starkflower-stew

Linh has never had a nickname. 

When she was younger, still living with her parents, names were a point of frustration. Her parents never used pet names, which meant they always referred to her by her given name- the wrong name. Always the wrong name, until Linh had to tell them to stop. 

(That conversation was quiet, hushed, like her parents couldn’t quite believe it. They had simply stared at her when she said I’m a girl and then shared a long look.)

Her parents had called her Linh from then on, but it still felt strictly impersonal. As if a wall of water had sprung up between them and drowned any hope of parental affection. 

Once they were banished, names were hardly ever used. Elves at Exillium weren’t considered to have names; they were referred to in a group or not at all. So Linh grew accustomed to turning at a simple shout, to only hearing her name spoken by her brother. Lonely? Sure, but at least she didn’t have to hear that disappointed sigh of Linh whenever she messed up.

(The way Tam said her name wasn’t disappointed, not ever. But it was resigned, like he knew he was the only one who would ever say it. Like he had come to terms with the fact that they were going to fade into oblivion.)

Then Sophie turned up and ushered them into her friend group, into warmth and belonging and people talking to Linh. People saying her name.

Sophie’s group didn’t use nicknames much- besides Keefe, of course, who seemed to be in a competition against himself to come up with the most ridiculous titles for Sophie- but just hearing her name said in a way that told Linh people wanted her here was enough. 

And then Marella Redek becomes a bigger part of Linh’s life, her fiery temper charging into arguments and her endless vocabulary of pet names filling the air, and Linh doesn’t know what to do with herself. 

-/-

“Hey, sweetheart, could you grab me that box?”

Linh turns just in time to see Dex hand Marella the small wooden box in question with a confused look. The blond girl grins at him and opens the box, digging through its contents. “Ooh, a necklace! And… Prattles?”

She holds up the package for all to see. The three of them are the only kids at Havenfield today- the others are all off on various errands. Even Sophie’s out in Atlantis, shopping with Biana. Linh doesn’t mind much, though, even as they embark on the laborious task of sorting through the stuff in Edaline’s cluttered office. She’s still marveling at the fact that she has friends now. 

“They’re probably really stale by now,” Dex says. Marella shrugs, ripping off the top and popping a candy into her mouth. She makes a face.

“Oh, ew. Why did you two let me eat that?”

Linh giggles and Marella smiles at her. There’s a strange flush on the other girl’s cheeks, and Linh wonders if you can get sick from eating old Prattles. She hopes not. 

“He did warn you,” Linh points out. Marella puts a hand over her heart in mock insult. 

“Betrayal! I thought we were friends, sweetie.”

Linh shrugs nonchalantly, trying to hide the warmth she can feel creeping up her neck. Marella does this all the time, she reminds herself, and Linh just needs to get used to it. “Sorry. All’s fair in lov- in war and stale Prattles.”

Dex snorts, shooting Linh a knowing look. Linh blinks and he shakes his head. “We should get back to cleaning. Marella, put the Prattles down.”

Marella, who is apparently a three-year-old in the body of a fifteen-year-old, shoves two more Prattles into her mouth and pockets the drawstring bag that holds the pin. Dex rolls his eyes and turns to a huge green chest. Marella nudges Linh’s ankle with her foot. 

“You know, hon, this stuff really isn’t bad. You wanna try?” She holds out the box. 

Linh shakes her head and Marella puts the package away. Linh’s thoughts, though, can’t be dislodged so easily, and the word hon echoes in her mind for the rest of the day. 

-/-

The transition from Exillium to Foxfire was a hurried one, a few busy days of reading schedules and getting used to being around normal people again. It felt almost too fast in the moment, too quick for even the little they were leaving behind.

Linh has left a lot of things behind in her life. She doesn’t miss them most of the time, but on days like this- days where it’s quiet and cool and the winds whipping past her sound eerily like the whispers in her head- it’s hard not to remember. 

She wanders outside of Solreef, settling down under a tree where she won’t be directly visible from the house. The grass around her is still slightly damp with dew, and Linh tugs a few blades out of the ground to fiddle with. 

Tiergan’s house is very different from anywhere she’s ever lived. The rooms are large and sprawling but still cozy, perhaps made so by the various pillows and classified scrolls that are scattered across nearly every surface. It’s not the rugged landscape of Wildwood nor the smoothed edges of Choralmere, and Linh is glad. Things are calm here, but not so calm she’s afraid to walk on anything but tiptoe. 

She broke a vase, once. One of her mother’s heirlooms. Tam had been chasing her through the house and Linh hadn’t had a chance to slow down in time. Quan had shouted louder than she had ever heard, too angry to even call Linh by the right name. 

It’s been years since that event, but the disappointment still presses on Linh’s skin. Covers her like a heavy blanket woven from sad sighs and ignorant comments and constant dissatisfied looks. The idea that Linh would never be enough. 

Will never be enough, no matter what she does. 

(There have been too many conversations for her to ever disprove that.)

“Linh?”

Abruptly, Linh realizes she hasn’t been breathing. She breaks away from the fixed point she’s been staring at and pastes a smile on her face. 

“Marella! Hey, sorry, I must have forgotten you were coming today.”

“You didn’t,” the blond girl responds, sinking down next to Linh. “I wanted to surprise you. Are you okay?”

“What? I’m fine. Why?”

Marella gives her an utterly unimpressed look. 

“Hon. You looked about five seconds away from crying when I showed up. And that’s not a bad thing,” she hurries to add when Linh opens her mouth to apologize. “I just want to help, if I can.”

“I-” Linh trails off, staring at the ground. “I was just thinking. About… stuff. Names. Memories.”

“Huh.” Marella doesn’t press, which Linh is thankful for. “Names can be weird sometimes,” she says carefully, turning to face Linh. “My mom- on her better days, she calls me Ella.”

Linh blinks. “I thought you didn’t like being called Ella.” Marella had almost taken Keefe’s head off when he had called her that once. Marella shrugs. 

“I don’t know. It’s different when Mom does it. It tells me… she’s there, I guess. She’s there and she loves me.” Marella worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s hard to see, sometimes. What she’s going to do. What I’m supposed to do when she gets frantic or starts crying.” 

“I get that. Well. Not the ‘frantic and crying’ part, but I get not knowing what to do.”

Marella smiles, a tiny, crooked thing. “I thought you would, sweetie.”

Linh turns back to the landscape, staring out at it. Next to her, Marella shifts so she’s facing the same direction. Her eyes are still fixed on Linh, though. Maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the sweetie, but Linh speaks up a few moments later. 

“My parents… didn’t always remember to call me Linh.” She says, testing the waters. Marella’s head inclines a tiny bit, encouraging her to go on. 

So Linh does. She tells the whole story, all those lonely years in Choralmere and then the too-free years in Wildwood. She’s never had to tell anyone that before- Tam has always known, and neither of them needed to say it out loud. 

When she finishes, Marella is silent. Linh worries she’s made a huge mistake. 

“Sorry,” she says quietly. “You don’t have to- I mean, I know this changes-”

“Hey, darling.” Marella shifts to sit on her knees in front of Linh, leaning forward and grabbing her hands. “This doesn’t change anything, okay. I mean, obviously it does,” she says thoughtfully, “but you’re still Linh, okay? You’re still Linh and you’re still beautiful. And I totally understand if you don’t want me to make a big deal out of this, but if you do, I happen to throw legendary parties.” 

Linh laughs, a half-choked sound of relief. Marella settles back against the tree with a grin and they stare at the horizon again. 

“Thanks,” Linh says after a moment. Marella gives her a thumbs-up.

“What are friends for, right?”

“Yeah.” Yeah, Linh reminds herself. Friends. 

-/-

“Whoa. Hon, look at this.” Marella pulls a tiny marble out of a box, glittering pale yellow and about the size of her thumbnail. Linh would almost mistake it for a Councillor’s cache if it weren’t for the absence of tiny jewels inside. 

They’re back in Edaline’s office, digging through piles of junk, but this time it’s just the two of them. Linh is halfway sure that’s intentional, actually- even Grady and Edaline suddenly decided to take an impromptu trip to Mysterium today. They have Havenfield all to themselves. 

(That sentence seems to fill Linh’s stomach with the mechanical butterflies they accidentally unleashed earlier. She doesn’t think about that too hard.)

(If she does, she knows she’ll find out something very odd about why she always feels warm when Marella calls her a pet name.)

“What is it?” She asks Marella. The other girl lifts one shoulder. 

“I don’t know, but it’s pretty. Let’s see...”

She taps the marble with two fingers and the lights cut out. They come back a few seconds later, Marella grinning sheepishly.

“Whoops. Sorry, sweetheart-”

“Stop calling me that.”

The words are out before Linh can stop them, and she flounders. “I mean- I just-” She shakes her head. “I can’t. Not when I know…” You don’t mean them, she finishes mentally. It hurts too much to hear you throw them out that easily. 

Marella’s expression shutters and she looks away. “Right,” she says, sounding oddly defeated. “Of course.”

She turns around, muttering “of course you would have figured it out” under her breath. Linh frowns and, since her mouth and her brain seem to be operating on different planes of existence today, says,

“What? Figured out what?” Her tone is almost challenging, but even Linh isn’t entirely sure why. Marella turns back around, arms crossed defensively.

“Really. You’re really gonna make me say it?”

“Say what?”

Marella throws up her hands. “Fine. I like you, okay? Is that what you wanted?” Her voice drops lower, less frustrated and more finished. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be weird. I’ll get over it.”

“You. You like me?” 

Marella doesn’t respond, already sorting through another pile. Linh takes a deep breath and uses what’s left of her courage. 

“I didn’t know that. I wanted you to stop calling me pet names because I thought they didn’t mean anything to you.”

Marella pauses. Straightens up. 

“They did,” she says, so softly it’s almost imperceptible. “They all did.” 

“They meant something to me too.” 

Edaline’s office is quiet. Linh doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, tries not to even think until Marella turns her head. 

“I hear there’s a really good restaurant in downtown Atlantis,” she says. It’s a question, an outstretched hand. Linh smiles and takes it. 

“That sounds amazing,” she responds. “Honey.”

The marble slips from Marella’s fingers and the lights turn off again. Marella’s smile, though, is enough to brighten the room. 

-/-

When she was little, Linh never had a nickname. 

They were too frivolous for her parents, too unnecessary for the people who sometimes forgot to even call her Linh. Nicknames weren’t needed for someone who barely had a name at all. 

Nicknames are never really needed, but they’re used here. 

“Mare,” she calls across their small kitchen, “we need to go.”

“I’m here! I’m ready,” Marella responds breathlessly, pecking Linh on the cheek as she rushes to pull her coat on. 

“Bi is going skin us alive if we’re late to Sophie’s party.”

“Good thing we’re not late then, sweetie.” Marella grins at her and moves out of the door. They are late, actually, but neither of them really care. 

It hits Linh sometimes, how very different her life is now. She has friends, and family, and a wonderful wife who deserves the world. 

(The ring on her finger seems to shine. That conversation was feather-light and delighted, a gasped yes and cheers from all their friends.)

“Hon, come on!”

She has a nickname now. Dozens, in fact. But she also has a name.

Linh Redek steps out the door. 

[dragonheadskilax]

Gonna annotate about Leon’s entire character to y’all because he’s so so good, and every time I see someone say he’s a bad character for crushing on a man who doesn’t like him back i’m >:(

An archer born in a Zofian town. His manner of speech and conduct are unmistakably similar to a young lady's. He grew up care-free thanks to his parents and their laid-back environment. He was often teased for his effeminately good looks, and he always responded with a test of skill--which he would win, improving his reflexes. He joined the army to search for someone he could devote his heart to. When Valbar decided to accompany Celica, he naturally tagged along, and provided much assistance during the journey. He has a frank personality, saying what's on his mind; he's also the type of person who wears his heart on his sleeve. After the war, he became a merchant and it's said he lived a free and happy life.

The area of Zofia do follow Mila who is known as the goddess of love so considering how Leon is sappy and having the title “True of Heart”, Leon would totally be into lovecore aesthetic.

He may act feminine, use female gendered words in other languages, and would call himself a maiden, but as far as everything else he’s crude and mean and doesn’t hold back on filtering himself even if he’s talking to a kid.

Leon left home when he was young, so considering how this game series does have a thing of making 15 year old kiddies soldiers I’m guessing he left home at around that age.

To ‘wear your heart on your sleeve’ means to be honest and openly show your feelings or emotions. He’s painfully honest and drop hints he’s not straight.

"...Blerg. I don't like sea travel, and it sure doesn't like me. I'm nauseous, I'm sunburned, and I'm wind-beaten. I look like death's damp leftovers. But YOU look fresh as a daisy, Priestess! What's your secret? ...What? Nothing? NOTHING?! But you look like a dew-dappled angel! Augh, that's so annoying... Well, youth is great and all, but don't expect it to last."

There’s that painful honesty.

He sure does focus on his looks. He’s 24, smh Leon don’t think that you’re not gonna last past 30.

"Great. We finally get off that infernal boat, and now it’s the desert. Are you doing this on purpose, Priestess? Is it personal? *sigh* I want to get out of here before I dry up like a mummy. If I turn hideous and Valbar abandons me, it’s your fault. …What did you say? …Valbar isn’t the sort to judge people by their appearance? You think I don’t realize that? I know him FAR better than you! Gods, it really throws me when you’re so rational and correct…"

Still trying hard to get noticed by Valbar.

I like how he’s saying this particular line to a 17 year old, like chill, dude. Be nice.

"When I was a kid, there was this guy that I was head over heels for. He’s the reason I enlisted, actually. Just so I could stay close to him. He died in the first battle we fought. I cried so hard, I thought my eyes were going to float clean out of my skull. Valbar saved me from that. Every time he saw me, he’d take the time to say something. Cheer me up. What can you do with a man like that but fall in love? You’re thinking I’m a tramp, aren’t you? Well, I’m not. It’s hardly my fault that the world is full of wonderful, lovable people. Such a thing really motivates one to get out there and save it."

He made a big decision to leave home and enlist to follow a guy.. Now that he fell in love with Valbar he’s doing anything to follow him, too. I guess what’s different is it had been an unrequited love, even when it was suggested that Valbar knew about it it remained as a crush. Leon loves him at a distance so then he wouldn’t get badly hurt as he once had.

Him saying he’s not a “tramp” is a bit of info I like because people tend to wanna characterize effeminate gay characters as being touchy and wanting to peek at lotsa guys (which isn’t bad but there’s more than one type of guy), but not Leon, he’s more of a yearning for a soul mate kinda guy. He’s not big on lots of physical touch unless he really likes ya. "Hey, hey, now. No more of that." “I'm a friendly fellow, but not the touchy-feely type. All right?"

talking to Valbar “Heh heh. But it's fine. Emotions come in many forms, and as you say, there's no point in hanging on. I'm still glad I have these feelings, and nothing will change that.”

A crush is totally different than being in a relationship so like... I don’t like it when people say he’s a bad character for it. It totally happens to like someone but they don’t swing that way. In Leon’s case he keeps the crush because it feels safer and sappy to have it. Even if he tries his darnest to let Valbar get the hint he Loves loves him, when nothing happens he just accepts that.

talking to Valbar “Just realizing I've been a fool for feeling sorry for myself. Compared to what you've gone through, my worries are nothing.”

Despite the ol’ “keeping his heart on his sleeve” thing Leon has a knack of keeping negative feelings to himself. Probably the type who wouldn’t admit it because it doesn’t feel as big of a deal compared to other’s. This guy needs a hug so bad.

Kamui: “Oh, you're a laugh riot. But anyway, what do you think makes a good man?”

Leon: “Hmm. That's not easily summed up in a few words, but... for starters, he should be kind, strong and mature... while maintaining a boyish innocence. He also needs to listen, but be ready to tell the hard truths when necessary.”

Kamui: “Oh, come on. No one's that perfect.”

Some people take their conversations as being odd or random information or just to express again on how Leon’s gay but I wanna turn more attention on Kamui’s motive for asking in the first place. For someone who tries to not make people take him as gay, and explicitly so in the manga, he sure do wanna know what Leon’s type is if he’s got his eyes on Valbar.

Kamui is kinda right that no one could be perfect but Leon had been describing Valbar, when like,, they’re not even in a relationship… Leon honey… don’t hurt yourself like this. This leads to their next conversation;

Kamui: It's about… what you said before. So what would you do if Valbar ended up being.. the opposite of your ideal?

Leon: Well, that's an absurd question. But in the interest of humoring you and passing the time... Well, I suppose I'd set off looking for a man who met my perfect ideal. A journey like that might actually be kind of... fun.

Kamui: I think that's the first time you and I have agreed on anything.

Kamui could probably tell that Valbar isn’t ever going to return the kind of love Leon wants, and tries to learn what Leon’s thoughts are about that. Because even if he says he doesn’t care much about anything he seems to care about Leon. On the battlefield given his specific quotes for Leon and in these conversations. Kamui tells how his luck went south ever since joining in this journey and he’s only sticking around for the money, but that job he was paid for was done a long time ago at his recruitment quest. So he seems to hang around anyway for his sense of completion on things it seems.

The word ‘journey’ is like music to Kamui’s ears considering his history. It would be a fun writing idea actually of them traveling across Valm picking guys to speed date, well, like in the manga lmaooo but wider ranged.

This would be the first time Leon speaks nicely to Kamui instead of being standoffish and harsh. Kamui sounded really relieved for that. Then when Leon says he doesn’t like him that way Kamui instantly tries to back track lol

"Hello, Kiran! I've prepared some tea. Would you care to join me? I must admit, I was anxious when you first summoned me here. Ugh, don't laugh—it's rude! I may not look worried, but I have my fair share of concern, same as anyone else. Anyway, you've proven yourself more than capable, so I suppose I don't mind sticking around. To be honest, I am eager to return home... But that can wait, I think... Care for another cup?"

He says this when level 40 in FEH. So by this point he’s well acquainted with the player. Him admitted that negative feeling is once again that thing he has of keeping feels in to not seem it’s a big issue. And him wanting to go back home…. boohoo..

(If Valbar lives) Welcomed into the One Kingdom's Brotherhood of Knights, Leon remained at Valbar's side until an injury ended his fighting career. He then took up work as a merchant in the city market, where he lived free, happy, and dauntlessly true to himself to the last.

He better keep that good happy ending 👊

(If Valbar dies) Dealt a grievous blow by Valbar's death, Leon disappeared for a time before returning to join the One Kingdom's Brotherhood of Knights. There, he fought with the strength of a hundred men, and later served as an instructor to new recruits, contributing greatly to the order.

It’s messed up to think of Leon losing someone he loves again….. He should not go through all that again… Where did he disappear to.. Did he turn himself from twink to a bear to take the place of what would’ve been Valbar’s job if he lived (since Valbar ending would’ve been him becoming the instructor)

[jafndaegur]

Noise of Rain | Chapter 1

Sesskag

Endless Forlorness Made me Numb

A/N: so @fandomplethora and I were talking about Mo Dao Zu Shi AUs. And I was like "nooo, I'm not gonna work on my Sesskag version. I have too many WIPs already". You know, like a liar. So here's my MDZS au for Sesskag🤣 it happens during the course of the canon-timeline, I guess before Final Act. Sooo yeah. I hope you enjoy whatever the hell this is🤣🤣🤣

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Kagome watched with pursed lips as the last of the sun set over the horizon. Gilded rays fluttered over the earth, streaming across the trees and grass like rivers of fire. Warm. Beautifully and utterly warm. The dying sunlight drenched her skin, and she tilted her head back—trying to drink in it's comfort. 

Trying to ignore the pressing cold digging its way into the edges of her senses.

Sunset's birth left a wake open for the creatures she'd come to dislike and maybe even hate. Soon she knew the faint pale wisps of the Soul Stealers would come into view. They would approach but never broach, as if taunting the unspoken agreement of distance. Time and time again, they teased the limits, dancing along the edge of her sights until she spun around. In the back of her mind she wondered if it would be worth it to just fork her spirit over to Kikyo. The undead priestess deserved a life, free from trickery or deceit. Something pure—

Only caught by the ascended.

After all, before her egregious turn to...what Kagome liked to think of as the emo rebellious phase, Kikyo had been rather fair and just. The death dealt to her an unfair blow by fate into the hands of a psycho spider demon.

But as the thought began to teeter close to the cusp of action, Sango's voice called her from their campsite and the idea dissipated.

Still. 

That darkened patch in the back of her mind, the one that hid behind bright smiles and dazzling sapphire eyes, pulsed. It reached out and brushed against her reiki, causing the edges to crumble to dust, unreplenished. Not that Kagome knew.

It wasn't as if anyone were helping her cultivate her priestess powers. So if she felt a bit more fatigued or a little more drained, she blamed it on the fact that Inuyasha was nowhere to be seen in the camp. Although she hadn't expected to see him. With the Soul Stealers in close proximity, they always chimed his cue to leave.

The passing scenery is going to collapse—

Cold wrapped her mind and complete midnight gripped her reiki. She cried out for help but no one could hear. 

They didn't need her. Just a jewel-shard detector.  They didn't want her. Just a lesser reincarnation.

—along the obsequious side.

"Oi, Kagome," Inuyasha's voice drew her from her sleep-deprived autopilot. "Can't you pick up the pace?"

Her brow twitched and she tried to find a good reason to not "Sit" him then and there. But her chest heaved and the exhaustion washed over her, and she acquiesced. Today was neither the time nor the place. As their group moved forward in the direction of the next Shikon jewel piece when the hanyou had picked up scents of Sesshomaru traveling their direction. In a bout of stubbornness, he refused to change course. Insistent that if his half-brother wanted to fight, then he wouldn't shy away.

Kagome's brow rose as Sesshomaru’s own little group met up with theirs. 

Rin perched happily on Ah-Un's back, Jaken in tow, and the proud daiyoukai at the front—the little quartet brushed passed them as if they weren't there. Other than the pleasant wave and hello Rin shouted in their direction, it was almost like they didn't exist.

Almost.

As they continued on, Kagome shivered as the sensation of Sesshomaru’s youki swept over them. It probed with an innocent inquisition that was disarming. She wondered why he was searching to change the hidden. But in the moment that she detected his power, it eased away and left them.

"What an asshole, he probably just came around to show-off," Inuyasha huffed.

Kagome wondered if that was the case. The full youkai had been searching for something. But what? 

She felt herself going to the dark spot in her mind, wondering if she took hold of it and reached out—would Sesshomaru’s presence return? Was this darkness, this strange thing, was this what he looked for? Kagome felt half inclined to try. She wanted him to turn around.

To notice that she felt…

Miroku called out that he noticed a dark aura from the north, something suspicious and chilling.

Kagome sighed and supposed that it didn't matter how she felt. Hitching her backpack onto her shoulders, she closed her eyes and sifted for that familiar feeling of the sacred jewel. While she wasn't sure, something stirred her heart in the direction the monk had pointed to. 

With a triumph smile, she hopped up to the front next to the half-demon. "I'm not 100% sure, but I think there's a shard in that direction."

That pleased Inuyasha enough. "Alright! Let's get a move on then."

They made camp a couple miles out from wherever they were headed next. A heavy dread had covered the little campsite, the nearby evil seeping close enough to have everyone on edge. Inuyasha and Miroku both kept a vigilant watch neither one comfortable to rest. Sango helped keep Shippo and Kirara calm enough to doze into a restless sleep. Kagome stared off into the distance. The Soul Stealers were in the opposite direction of the unholy aura; wandering, looking.

But unlike the previous night where they had toyed with the notion of trying to take her spirit again, their movements differed. Unorganized and haphazard—the ghostly creatures meandered in confusion.

Heart pounding against her chest, Kagome couldn't help the small smile wiggling its way onto her face. In her mind's eye, she cupped the darkness more. After all, it had swallowed her reiki whole, hiding it from even Miroku's detection.

It protected the treasure by throwing away the guidance everyone depended on.

The middle of the night sung out to her and she awoke on a cold sweat. Someone was crying. But everyone had fallen asleep. Miroku and Inuyasha seemed fitfully sleeping at best, while Sango and Shippo curled in for warmth against Kirara's warm side. The fire-cat however, glanced at her with worried large eyes. 

Kagome hoisted the holy bow and arrows onto her shoulder. She gave an appeasing pet the demon's nose.

"Don't worry, I'm just going to investigate," she murmured gently. "Something's off. And I want to make sure we don't walk into a trap later."

Kirara gave a low growl but she did not move otherwise.

Kagome smiled and snuck forward. The morning had yet to start, so the air felt frigid and moist. Dew just barely started to accumulate on dark forest and heavy grass. Pushing her way through the underbrush, the inner compass in her chest pointed the direction she needed. Not to mention the voice she'd heard began to cry louder. Words still weren't quite comprehensible but the sentiment was there.

The forest started to scar away, replaced by shale and growing rigid crags. Heavy mist permeated the area more. Kagome drew her bow and crouched low, still persisting. The crying started to take on a form.

 Noise of rain. It wept. Noise of rain your footsteps cry.

And suddenly just like that, Kagome spun around, arrow ready to shoot. Naturally,  Naraku stood behind her—his arms behind his back, his face pensive.

"Kagome," he greeted, voice heavy and hesitate.

Her brow cocked. "Naraku. What do you want?"

Noise of rain—

"What are you doing here so far from your watchdog?" He asked, still nothing but curiosity and even perplexity radiating off of him. 

—your footsteps cry.

"Something called me," she whispered.

The spider hanyou's crimson eyes narrowed and he walked away. "Follow me."

As they trekked, the mist began to seep with a type of miasma, but for some reason... It didn't hurt her. Shady, inky tendrils looped slow through the air as they trudged upwards, following the rise of the mountains.

"I found this place, yet it confounds even me." Naraku drawled, dark hair wavering. "There is some type of life. But it refuses to interact."

"Can you blame it?" Kagome bit back.

He chuckled darkly.

They reached the peak. 

Below them an infinite spiral of darkness. Except this time not one voice cried out to her. They all whispered and unfurled. They all heard her. 

They reached for her.

"What's down there?" She murmured. 

"As far as I can tell, these are burial mounds." Naraku hummed. "Any one place you dig, there are bound to be bones."

The darkness over her reiki swelled. Kagome trembled.

"The miasma here is not my doing," Naraku continued. "It's not poisonous. Just resentful. It's quite the odd place."

She reached out her hand and the voices smiled. "You are wanted here. Please help us here. This is the end of all lies."

"I don't think it's resentful," she whispered. 

"Interesting theory," Naraku's voice curved and drawled. "Would you like to test that?"

Before she could ask what he meant, his foot collided into her back. She screamed as her body tottered over the edge. Loafers slipped, hands grasped air, and her body tumbled into the abyss' embrace.

Weak and limp she couldn't move her limbs. Every fiber, every bone, everything must have shattered at the impact's drop. Her lungs heaved painfully. The voices giggled and suddenly they were no longer begging but controlling. They grabbed at her, trying to tear her apart and reach for the reiki within her soul.

Yet that darkness from earlier, the darkness that had appeared one day and started to grow the next…

She imagined Inuyasha looking mournfully around his surroundings, wondering where she abandoned him—just like his first lover...

Her mother and brother called out for her endlessly. Their worried tones climbing and climbing but never finding the ears they wanted…

Sesshomaru’s youki poked and prodded, searching, searching, searching for her…

Her darkness consumed every part of her reiki, like a wildfire over a bonfire, it ignited a flash that had her toes digging into the ground and her will sending her to stand.

Her aura spread and she clenched her jaw, commanding the voices to quiet.

[chinawof]

Confessions - Self Para

@hemsworthitmate

She couldn’t help but think about it all day; the fact suddenly everything felt like it was out of her control, her life, her choices. It had been very overwhelming, so when she had gotten a chance that late afternoon to get a shower and lie in bed for a short while, she took it. The respite was welcome and the sleep came too easily to her exhausted mind. 

China woke to the sound of rain and soft whimpers from Delta, who was clearly trying her best to not disturb her, but once again needed to go outside and badly. The poor pup. “Sorry, Delta, come on, I’m up now.” She moved and set her slippers on her feet before making quick haste downstairs to the back door. 

It looked so grim and dreary out this time of night, but the flickers of lightning lit up the dew-dropped garden beautifully, and she had to smile as she made herself a warm cup of tea - decaf, she tried not to dwell on it, and settled on a chair near the door with it as Delta rushed outside to take care of her business. 

She had grabbed a towel for when the pup ushered herself back inside, thankfully the tea was finished and discarded on the dining table, so she grabbed a towel from the dryer, and let Delta hop into her lap to be dried and snuggled a little more.

Chi didn’t know where Liam was, or what he was doing; maybe in his games room, or helping Chase with finding him and Amber a house, but she didn’t mind and was happy to give him his space, just as he was glad to give her her own. It was to her surprise that Dora came downstairs a moment later and walked out of the open door. Dora was always a lot more efficient than Delta. She took care of her business, walked to the porch, shook herself dry and headed back inside, barely wet at all, and China appreciated that. She even wondered for a moment when Delta may get to that point. 

The pup in her lap had fallen asleep in the warmed towel, nuzzled close to China for comfort. When Dora was firmly back inside, China gave her a treat for being such a good girl, before the pup carried it upstairs with pride to, Chi presumed, find Liam. 

She stood and closed the door, locking it tight, before she found her way into the living room, Delta firm in her hold. She wasn’t exactly tired yet, probably because she had just had a firm 6 hour sleep, so she turned on the TV quietly and put on a movie for herself to watch for now.

China didn’t realise Mulan was a bad choice of film, or that her increasingly pregnant body was hormonal enough to have her crying over the mention of ruined family honour. It hurt more, because she could feel it now; the judgement of her parents for what she had done and the situation she had gotten into.

She didn’t want to burden Liam with it, but she knew, if she was going to do this, she needed to have someone to talk to that she could trust and that wouldn’t tell her parents.

Her fingers easily found the number of her co-worker and set-sister, Nafessa. Chi pressing the call button and putting the phone to her ear as the movie played on, Delta still snoozing in her lap.

She hadn’t realised it must have been really early in Atlanta, where Nafessa was, until the phone rang a few times unanswered, and then a tired voice picked up her call.

“Chi?” She could hear Nafessa’s tired tone and instantly felt guilty.

“Oh my gosh, Feesa, I didn’t think, the timezone.” She went to apologise more, but her upset must have been thick in her tone along with the panicked apology, and suddenly Nafessa sounded a hell of a lot more awake.

“Hey, no, it’s okay. It’s after seven, I should be up anyway.” 

China could hear the rustle of sheets, and the sound of what must have been Nafessa getting out of bed, then walking from her room.

“What’s going on, Chi?” She asked, and China realised she had called and then not said anything for a few moments.

She sniffled, “I’m so sorry.” There was another apology.

“It’s fine, I’m up.” Nafessa reassured her, “Why’re you upset? What happened?”

China took a moment, then took a deep breath and wiped beneath her eyes. She figured she needed to calm herself too, so she settled Delta on the sofa cushion still wrapped in the towel fast asleep, and headed to the kitchen to get a new cup of tea. 

“Just overwhelmed, I think.” Chi answered as she dug in the cupboard for something soothing. She found some chamomile tea bags and didn’t bother herself to look if there was any caffeine content or any other risk. She just knew she needed to calm herself down before she was worked up again. 

“Overwhelmed?” Nafessa asked, and China heard her pouring her own drink, presumably coffee; something she missed so much already and craved.

“Yeah.” Chi spoke softly. She poured in the hot water and settled it on the dining table to steep, opening the back door again to watch the rainfall, she settled on the wooden chair.

“You’re going to have to give me more than that.” Nafessa gave a slight chuckle that got a light smile from the 21-year-old.

She knew, at times, it was good to rip the bandaid off. China figured this was one of those times. “I’m pregnant.” She answered, softly and ashamedly. 

There was a moment of silence. Chi wasn’t sure if maybe Nafessa hadn’t heard her words, or what, but she waited. Idly spinning the spoon in her mug as she did so. 

“Come again?” Nafessa asked after a second. Chi realised she had definitely heard her now, “Pregnant?” The older female prompted when China didn’t answer.

“Mhm.” 

“Wow.” 

For a moment China figured Nafessa was holding off on lecturing her about birth control, something she had said to her back in October when Liam and herself first started dating. But Chi had been busy, and things had come at her one thing after the other... now it didn’t seem like it mattered at all. 

“It’s definitely Liam’s?” She would have been offended by anyone else asking this, but from Nafessa there was such a flippant way of her talking, and a sisterly tone she needed, that it only elicited a soft, pity-filled laugh from China.

“Yes. There’s been no one else.” Never would be. She almost added onto the end, but it paled in comparison to anything else she was feeling right now.

“What’re you going to do?” There was another bit of gentleness to the tone, and China welcomed it entirely; she’d been craving this kind of motherly tone and finally she was getting it.

A small laugh left her lips, “Well, we’re keeping it,” She answered with ease.

“We’re?” She heard from Nafessa, and nodded before remembering she couldn’t see her.

“Yeah, we’re.”

“So he knows?” 

“He does. We’ve done three tests and been to the doctors together now.” 

Nafessa let out a small sigh, “That’s good.” She knew some men would have upped and left by this point, at least Liam hadn’t done that. “But how do you feel about it? You said you were overwhelmed? That’s not an ‘overjoyed and picking out nursery colours’ kind of feeling, Chi.”

Chi let out a small sigh, went to take a sip of the tea, but found her stomach recoiling at the very smell of it. She carefully pushed the mug away from herself. “It’s been a lot?” 

“I’ll bet.” Nafessa didn’t even give a pause before answering. “Do your parents know?”

“No.”

“Does anyone else?” 

Chi bit at her lip, “No, you’re the first person I’ve told. Other than Liam telling his family and his friend.”

There was a pause then. “So he’s told people?”

“Yeah.” She could hear Nafessa’s own sigh, and gave her a quick, “I said he could. It’s fine. I thought having someone know may give me someone to talk to... but I didn’t want to burden people.”

A scoff. “You’re in no way a burden!” 

“I know you’d say that, Feesa. But everyone else has barely known me for 5 months.” She gave a gentle shrug of her shoulders. 

“That shouldn’t-” Nafessa started and cut herself off. She knew China already could feel the rest of the ‘matter at all’ she had wanted to say. “How far along are you?”

“A couple of weeks give or take.” 

Another pause. 

“And what has Liam said?”

Chi gave a small smile, “He’s excited. Beyond excited. Can’t wait to tell people and talk to it and things.”

“But you’re not at that point?” China shook her head tenderly, and heard Nafessa’s sigh. Obviously knowing the pause meant no. “You know there’s no shame in not wanting this, China. It’s your body. He can’t pressure you into-”

China quickly cut her off, “No, I do. We... we feel ready. I feel like I want this. And God must know I’m ready or why else would he give this to us? I just-”

Another pause had Nafessa sighing once more, “You just?”

“It’s a lot.” Chi started.

Nafessa laughed, “Of course it is, honey, your whole life is about to change.”

“I know, and there’s things I just don’t know, and everything is changing around me... it’s been a lot.” There was tears in her eyes and her throat was tight, Nafessa worried there was a breakdown coming and she wasn’t there to help hold her and work her through it. 

“Talk to me, Chi. Please.” Nafessa pleaded gently, “What’s been going on?” Nafessa had liked Liam when he came to set, appreciated the way he took things slowly and at China’s pace, but at the same time, she wasn’t his biggest fan right now. It sounded like a lot of this baby mess was Liam being excited and China’s feelings being pushed aside just for his excitement, and that was something she couldn’t stand to see, not to someone who was essentially her little sister. 

“I...” Chi paused, stood and grabbed a glass filling it with water before she sat back down and took a careful and slow sip of the drink. “Everything is out of my control. My body... it’s changing and I don’t know what’s happening, I’m exhausted constantly, but I can’t sleep because I’m so worried of what my parents are going to think, things I used to love to eat are making me sick.” Regardless of the glass of water she took another sip from, her eyes watered up and her throat still tightened more. “I can’t have coffee, or cheese... I’ve got to eat differently... act differently... and I don’t even know what else he’s changed around me without me even knowing.” 

The tears began to fall. 

Nafessa’s heart clenched at the sound of China’s muffled cries, wanted nothing more than to comfort and hold her. “He’s changed? What do you mean?” She asked, once she had given China a moment to just let it all out.

“I know I don’t understand a lot, or know a lot... but he’s swapped the coffee and tea, and he changed the cheese, and I didn’t even know he had done it until after the fact.” She sniffled a little, “It feels like all of these choices are being taken away from me, and I don’t know why I can’t have these things, and he hasn’t explained or asked me.” China let herself have another moment, but was still met with more silence from Nafessa. She wished she knew what the other woman was thinking. “I just feel like I’m here... carrying this baby, and that’s it. That’s all I’m good for. That’s all I’m here for.” 

It had been a couple of weeks, and already these things were happening. Nafessa wasn’t best pleased at all; knew if it was any other woman, these things wouldn’t have even happened yet. They wouldn’t have even known they were pregnant for another month or two, and here, Chi’s life was upside down. 

“Chi...” Nafessa gave a soft sigh, “I’m so sorry, sweetie.” It wasn’t her thing to apologise for, though, and she knew that. 

“I just feel like things would be easier if the baby wasn’t a thing.” She admitted, so quietly and ashamedly she made herself feel sick for just thinking it. “Which I know, I shouldn’t think. And I do want them. I want this baby more than anything.”

Nafessa understood wholeheartedly. “You just want to know what is happening, why, and make it a you choice, huh?” 

China nodded. Nafessa could tell she was nodding.

“I get it, Chi. I do. It doesn’t help that you haven’t told anyone. You need support.” 

Chi wanted to say that Liam supported her, and he had. There’d been crackers, and back rubs when she was getting sick, or glasses of water, and carries to bed when she needed them, but it also felt like a lot of this pregnancy was already Liam’s choices, and not her own.

“I’m here, Chi. I know we’re miles apart, but you call me. Day or night. You can talk to me. And I’ll help you through this until you feel ready to let someone else in, okay? If I have to call doctors and find answers for you, I will. I promise.”

Chi was glad the words were comforting enough, and she gave a gentle smile and a nod of her head. “Yeah?”

“Always. I’m right here for you. And for that little one, too. But first and foremost, for the next nine to ten months, I’m here for you.���

“Wait, nine to ten?!” Chi let out. Another stunned tone to something she didn’t know a thing about yet.

“We can talk about it tomorrow, okay? You need to de-stress. Go relax. Eat something you want to eat and get a little bit of sleep. Then you can call me when you’re awake and we can talk more, but I know it’s late for you, and you’ve had an emotional couple of days, I am sure.”

“Thank you.” China said after a moment. 

“Not a problem at all. Call me if you need me.” 

There was another moment before they said goodbye and China took Nafessa’s advice. It was around 1am by that point so she headed into the bathroom and ran a bath for herself with some soaks to help settle herself. For now, it was what she felt like she needed. 

Nafessa had gotten Liam’s number from China a couple of months ago after her few set incidents and the scare with being followed everywhere; just in case something had happened. So it wasn’t a surprise, she found it easily and swiftly half an hour later and she called it without question or hesitation, because she knew he needed to be aware of this situation before it got out of hand.

Was it betraying Chi’s trust? A little.

Was she doing her honorary big-sisterly duty? Absolutely.

Nafessa wasn’t surprised when the phone went to voicemail. She gave a sigh as the tone beeped and then started.

“Hey, Liam. It’s Nafessa. Sorry for the late night call, but I’ve just had China on the phone a little upset, and wanted to talk about that with you, you can always call me back if you want to, but I just want to give you a heads up that I’m concerned for her. I know about the baby, and I know she wants it, and you do, too. But when I’ve got her in tears telling me it feels like she isn’t getting to make choices anymore, yeah, I’m going to be concerned. You can’t keep making those calls without involving her, Liam. Please, understand that. I’m not having a go at you at all for it, but she’s overwhelmed and scared, and I really don’t want her ending up resenting that baby because it feels like her whole life is changing without her being involved in those decisions.” 

She gave a pause and a small chuckle, “You know she can have one cup of coffee a day, right? And she can have hard cheeses. Just not soft ones.” 

There was another slight sigh. “Look, I get why you’re doing it, and I know you’re excited and want the best for that baby, but please remember... it may be both of your’s baby, but it’s China’s body and her lifestyle that’s going to change entirely, not yours. Maybe you should make a list of things you think need to change, talk it over with her, make realistic and understandable time frames and goals, talk about it with her doctor so you are both educated and aware of why it’s a thing, she just needs to be involved in those calls, and it doesn’t sound like she has been or at least she doesn’t feel like she has been.”

Nafessa gave another soft sigh, “I hope you know I’m just a little worried, but I know you two are going to make great parents, if any of this is anything to go by. You’re going to make a wonderful father, Liam. Congratulations.” 

The voicemail ended there, and Nafessa knew China wouldn’t be best pleased about it, but Liam needed to know. Suddenly all she wanted to do was knock both of their heads together and make them both realise they were in this together, Chi’s problems and worries needed to be Liam’s now, too, and Liam’s decisions and calls had to be China’s as well. 

Whatever happened, she made a note that she would talk to her sister and get China a little more information from a woman who had experienced it all before. 

[kaistrex]

Veils and Moonbeams

Summary: The fox scampers towards him and now Derek can make out a scatter of black speckles dotted in its fur, most notably in a distinct pattern across its fluffy white cheeks. The same distinct pattern Derek has spent most of his Hufflepuff/Slytherin classes tracing with his eyes.

Derek stares. Memories from his third-year Transfiguration lessons are coming back to him, about Animagi and identifying marks. But Stiles isn't an Animagus. He can’t be. Stiles is the class clown and there’s no way he would have been able to keep this quiet, not to mention to be an unregistered Animagus would result in time in Azkaban. Stiles may be smart-mouthed and headstrong but he’s not stupid.

Is he?

Note: This is my entry for the Sterek Week 2017 day 7 theme 'Halloween' and also for this months Sterek Writing Room theme 'Autumn'.

Hogwarts AUs are my ultimate jam so it was only a matter of time before I wrote one myself! This started when I realised if anyone would become an (illegal) Animagus to surprise the boy they liked, it would be Stiles Stilinski.

The moon is full overhead when Derek trots out of the Entrance Hall onto the Hogwarts grounds. It’s always a relief to assume his fur after enduring the day leading up to a full moon he can feel drawing ever closer, and now he intends to enjoy the one night a month he has permission to wander the castle after dark to its fullest.

The last full moon on Halloween was nineteen years ago according to Professor Walker — or just ‘Meredith’ as that's all she ever answers to — and she'd been even more dreamy than usual earlier that afternoon during Divination. Her mystical babbling about thin veils and moonbeams had filled the entire class, oblivious to any attempts to prompt a real lesson out of her. She’d seemed to take a specific interest in Derek when it came to the ‘moon alignment drawing together the unlikely’ and nothing could break her from her apparent trance.

The full moon doesn’t feel more potent to Derek, or different in any way at all. There’s just the same sense of loneliness he’d endured the month before, now spending his second ever full moon alone at Hogwarts since Laura graduated last year.

He can feel the pull of his pack from so far away, but it doesn’t do much to ease the solitude. Last month, he’d howled with the foolish hope to hear a reply. He doesn’t try it again.

Instead, he takes what comfort he can in his full belly from the Halloween feast and heads in the direction of the lake, the gently lapping water his favourite thing to hear whenever he chooses to settle down for the night. He abandons the path, preferring instead to test his agility and scale down a few of the rocky outcrops. When he’s nearing the bottom he lifts his head to scent the air and freezes.

He can smell… Stiles, another seventh year, a Slytherin who Derek shares some classes with. Derek would know his scent anywhere and it’s unusually potent, especially since it should have been hours since he was out here.

But it's coming from further down the path to the lake, real, here and now.Derek stops following his shortcut to chase after the scent instead, but it’s not Stiles he finds. At least, it can’t be.

There, at the bottom of the path, twitchy-eared and bushy-tailed, he finds— a fox. A fox that has Stiles’ scent and the very same amber eyes.

The only conclusions Derek can make are that Stiles is either the victim of a prank hex or he got challenged to a duel and lost. But he doesn’t look distressed. In fact, he looks a lot like he’s enjoying himself.

The fox scampers towards him and now Derek can make out a scatter of black speckles dotted in its fur, most notably in a distinct pattern across its fluffy white cheeks. The same distinct pattern Derek has spent most of his Hufflepuff/Slytherin classes tracing with his eyes.

Derek stares. Memories from his third-year Transfiguration lessons are coming back to him, about Animagi and identifying marks. But Stiles isn't an Animagus. He can’t be. Stiles is the class clown and there’s no way he would have been able to keep this quiet, not to mention to be an unregistered Animagus would result in time in Azkaban. Stiles may be smart-mouthed and headstrong but he’s not stupid.

Is he?

The fox stares back at him, head cocked like it’s waiting for Derek to finish his inner debate. Any doubts over the fox being Stiles evaporate when he sinks low on his haunches then springs up and licks the corner of Derek’s muzzle.

Derek sits down in shock, a yip strangled in his throat, and the fox makes a noise that sounds like it must be laughter. It dances about on its paws before turning and tearing across the grounds.

Derek stares after it, after Stiles, still not sure what the hell is going on, or how. Only when Stiles pauses to look back does he finally follow.

He keeps a close eye on him as they make their way down to the lake, watching as he explores, sniffing at the air, the grass, the water and even Derek. He’s still a bit unsteady on his feet like he’s not used to his new form yet, almost falling in the lake at one point.

When they reach the edge of the Forbidden Forest, picking their way over crisp fallen leaves, Stiles tries to venture past the treeline but Derek bars his path. Tripping over tree roots will be enough of a hazard for him, let alone the creatures living inside. Stiles may be a rule-breaker but this is where Derek draws the line. He’ll carry him away by the scruff of his neck if he has to.

Stiles whines, but Derek nudges him with his nose back in the direction of the lake. He huffs but turns back, setting off at a run once more. The retreating tail calls out to Derek like prey and he can’t fight his urge to give chase.

Stiles’ shorter legs are no match for Derek’s longer ones and he has no trouble catching up despite the headstart. He pounces, intending to cage the fox between his front legs and pin him beneath his belly, but Stiles dives to the left in an astonishing display of grace at the last moment and Derek skids across the grass.

Stiles trots over looking extremely proud of himself. He yelps when Derek dives for him again, rolling him onto his back and displaying a white-furred belly speckled with more black spots. Derek can’t help wondering if they’re representations of ones he has on his human body just like the ones on his cheeks.

Stiles squirms free and Derek chases him again, back and forth across the grass.

When Derek manages to catch him for the fifth time he slumps down at the edge of the lake, worn out. Stiles tries to coax him to keep playing by jumping on his back and tugging on his ear with his little fangs but Derek shakes him off. The fox huffs but flops down over Derek’s paws. Derek nudges him with his muzzle, an excuse to scent him, and Stiles bats at him with a paw, eventually wriggling round to press up against his belly.

The proximity and warmth makes Derek’s heart thud. Stiles is smart and funny and fiercely loyal to his friends and Derek may have been a little in love with him ever since Professor Harris had humiliated eleven-year-old Derek for only stirring his Herbicide Potion three times clockwise instead of four. The stress had nearly driven Derek to shift in the middle of the classroom, tears welling in his eyes, until Stiles managed to ‘trip’ into his own cauldron and spill his entire potion over Harris’ shoes, drawing his ridicule away from Derek.

Harris had made it his mission to wage war on Stiles from that day forth, no matter that Stiles was in his own house, and had never bothered Derek since. Though maybe that also had something to do with Laura letting slip to their mother what had happened and a few very colourful threats delivered by Howler to Harris sat at the Professors’ table during breakfast.

It’s been six long years of pining and now they're suddenly curling up together beneath the full moon, an intimate position he's never shared with anyone outside of his pack.

Stiles seems totally oblivious to the enormity of it all, making content snuffling noises as Derek rolls onto his side and lets him settle between his paws.

Derek can't deny the position is cosy and after a long school day and the exertion of their chase, it doesn't take much for sleep to come for him.

 *

 Derek wakes a few hours later to the grey-blue light of dawn, shrouded in a light mist and the grass wet with dew. Stiles is still sleeping beside him, belly up and paws twitching, and Derek wakes him with a forceful lick from speckled cheek to eartip.

He starts awake, growling at the interruption, but rolls onto his front and stretches like a cat. Derek follows suit. They need to get back to the castle soon, especially Stiles who shouldn’t get caught by any of the Professors. Stiles knows it too because he jumps up to snap playfully at Derek’s muzzle before racing off back to the castle.

Derek doesn’t try to catch him this time, content to follow instead as he bounds up the front steps and into the Entrance Hall.

Stiles stops and turns to face him inside and they both stare for a few seconds. If he was human, would this be the part where he's supposed to say ‘I had a good time tonight’? But does that make it sound like a date? What even is this?

Stiles cuts short his dilemma by bumping his head against Derek’s front legs, then he turns and trots down the steps to the dungeons. Derek lingers for a few long moments. The night feels a little like a barely-remembered dream now and he's not sure what it will mean for the rest of the day. He wonders if, in a few hours time, it will feel like it even happened.

 *

 Later that morning when most people are heading to breakfast, Derek waits outside the wall that leads to the Slytherin common room, watching the stream of students emerging for Stiles.

The first thing he’d done when he’d got back to the dormitory was dig up information on Animagi. Part of the process apparently involves the need to hold a mandrake leaf in the mouth for a month and he can remember that odour wafting from Stiles towards the end of the last school year. Derek had just assumed it was some sort of weird bet, wrinkled his nose and moved on.

But his brief research reminded him that it can take over a year to complete the process to become an Animagus so it's not something Stiles could have just decided to do overnight.

Derek needs answers and he's going to get them.

As expected, Stiles is one of the stragglers heading to breakfast. As soon as he appears, Derek grabs him by the elbow and steers him behind the nearest tapestry shortcut, ignoring his yelp.

“Derek!” Stiles squeaks.

“What were you— How did— Why—?” Derek still doesn't know where to begin and being faced with Stiles in human form is doing nothing to help his scrambled thoughts.

“You knew it was me?”

Derek’s eyebrows draw together. “Of course I knew it was you. Your scent was everywhere.”

“You know what I smell like?”

Stiles’ scent is filling the air around them in their enclosed space right now, so familiar to him. He doesn't want to reveal that to Stiles though so he growls to hide his embarrassment. “That's not important. When the hell did you become an Animagus?”

Stiles averts his eyes, plucking on a loose thread of the tapestry as he licks his lips. The occupant of the wall hanging shouts, “Oi!” and Stiles is quick to withdraw his hand.

“I know this is your first year spending a full moon without Laura now that she's graduated,” he finally explains. “I meant to have it ready for last month's full moon but it took a bit longer than I'd thought for me to finish the transformation.”

“You… You became an Animagus… for me?” The words sound ludicrous as soon as they're out of his mouth and he wishes he could pull them back before Stiles laughs at him.

But instead Stiles lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Well… when you put it like that…”

Before Derek even really knows what he's doing, he's grabbed Stiles by the collar of his robes and drawn him in, fuelled by the memory of a fox licking his muzzle. He pauses at the last second before their lips meet, in terror that he's read this whole thing entirely wrong.

But Stiles makes a short protesting whine and surges forward just as Derek pulls back, so their lips collide in what is probably the most awkward kiss in the history of Hogwarts.

They both jump back at a jarring clash of teeth and Derek can feel his ears heating up. Stiles, usually unflappable, has a blotchy flush of his own spreading across his cheeks.

“Could we maybe try that again?” Stiles squeaks and Derek ducks his head to laugh.

“Yeah,” he answers shyly. “But first,” he declares, sidestepping Stiles’ advancing mouth to start dragging him out of the shortcut by his robes. “We’re informing Professor Deaton of what you’ve done.”

Stiles squawks. “Right now?!”

“Yes, right now! Do you want to go to Azkaban?!”

“I'm still a minor,” Stiles sulks, but he at least obeys Derek’s relentless tugging.

“Do you want to be expelled then?”

Stiles groans and plants his feet, drawing Derek’s coaxing to a halt.

“A kiss for luck?” he asks, fluttering his eyelashes and puckering his lips.

Normally, Derek would never feel so bold, but here he is with his crush of six years asking for a kiss after admitting he underwent the gruelling process to become an Animagus just to keep Derek company on full moons he has to spend without his pack. It's probably the most romantic thing he's ever heard and he never thought he'd be on the receiving end of such a gesture.

He steps closer and plants what he intends to be a quick peck on Stiles’ lips, but Stiles’ hand comes up to cradle the back of his neck, holding him in place for a long — but chaste — kiss.

He feels Stiles smile against his lips just before they break apart.

“One for courage too?” Stiles asks, eyes wide and innocent.

Derek snorts, but darts in for one more kiss, ducking away before Stiles can prolong it again.

“There. Now don't push your luck,” Derek says, but this time instead of leading Stiles by his robes, he takes his hand instead.

Stiles smiles down at their clasped fingers and follows with no more arguments.

After informing Professor Deaton — who, unsurprisingly, already knew exactly what Stiles had been up to and had the necessary forms filled in and ready to go (along with a string of detentions in place of a more severe punishment) — news of Stiles’ status spreads like wildfire.

Even Lydia Martin looks grudgingly impressed (she’s never one to be outdone and especially not by Stiles. Derek wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already calculating how to become an Animagus quicker than Stiles did.)

From that point on, Stiles ends up spending an unnecessary amount of time as a fox. Derek does like to join him, especially once the weather gets even colder and they can find a fireplace to curl up in front of together.Derek never really turned into a wolf outside of full moons before Stiles became his boyfriend, but now it's a common occurrence to see a black wolf trotting down the corridors with a fox by his side.

Stiles has it easier considering his clothes reappear whenever he shifts back, though he's told Derek on more than one occasion, with wiggling eyebrows and a lecherous grin, that he doesn't mind that at all.

It still makes Derek grumpy. That is, until the full moon where Stiles meets him out by the lake then transforms back to human to reveal he left his clothes back in the dormitory.

Amidst frantic kissing and wandering hands, Derek discovers that, yes, the speckles in Stiles’ fur are exact representations of the ones on his skin.

[digitalreverse-blog]

Take Over the World With Me (TOWWM) Pilot Chapter

Disclaimer: I may have created a few things within this story, but I do not make any money off of this story, and I only claim to truly own the OC. But even then, he's probably not the most original guy out there.

A/N This is a short pilot chapter. It's been slightly revamped since inception, but it's still currently just here to introduce the story and the OC. That's my excuse. Yep. Oh, also, most of the revamping was the addition of world-building exposition, so the balance between exposition and story flow may be a bit off, for which I apologize. As well, Parseltongue is indicated as §Parseltongue§, and spells are italicized only when spoken.

Enjoy

Ah, how refreshing the train compartments are. The ashy blond teen rolled his eyes. The only thing refreshing about them is the knowledge they're taking him away from his incompetent peers.

With a sigh, he dropped down into the seat next to the window, letting his trunk fall silently to the floor. At least he only had to deal with said peers for two and a half more years. And not all of them were incompetent, just... the vast majority. One would think that after Voldemort's return, the students would have been more efficiently taught, but that didn't end up being the case. Rather, everyone relied on Harry Potter's skill to defeat the Dark Lord - which worked out quite well in the end: Voldemort had certainly been defeated by the surprisingly talented Potter during the anti-climatic scene staged in a graveyard. Anti-climatic because Voldemort hadn't quite expected Potter to be so battle able, and was quickly dispatched in a duel. So the papers told, at least.

In that following summer, Albus Dumbledore make the executive decision to inform the media of Voldemort's horcruxes, thus beginning a short and sweet search and destroy of all five remaining horcruxes - Potter's included. How exactly the Ministry destroyed the horcrux without also destroying the boy was never said: the Department of Mysteries is called so for a reason.

After placing basic sound wards on the compartment, both to block sounds coming in and to block sounds from going out, the teen reached up and took hold of a pendant around his neck, bringing it up to get a better look. It was a simple thing. Nobody would think it more than a trinket. He had been wearing it for three years now. It had almost become part of his image.

A sapphire sat as a four sided star in the center of a silver oval, which had simple filigree designs engraved on the edges. Very simple. But a dark, cruel brat was inside the gem. Voldemort had been killed, there was no doubt about that. Tom Riddle, on the other hand, survived.

Not even a year had passed, and good ol' Marvolo was ready to burst from his chrysalis into a blood curdling beautiful python.

"Calm down Marvolo. We've a couple weeks yet." he said with unveiled amusement. He himself was excited too, though. He never did get to do any fighting last time. He was kept under the radar. Nobody was supposed to know he was related to the dark in any way, after all. Although, if the plan goes right, he was unlikely to do any fighting anyways.

Light annoyance arose from the gem, but it didn't last very long.

Chuckling quietly to himself, he gently dropped the horcrux to lay against his chest. He released the wards on the compartment a few minutes later once remembering that Sirius Black was on the train, someone well versed in magic and could likely sense it. While he probably knew enough from his mother, a dark arts as well as a defense against the dark arts historian, to put up undetectable ones, it's always better to be safe than sorry. He was still under the radar, and drawing attention to himself for having wards up was not preferable.

Much to the teen's displeasure, the door slid open to reveal two people he hadn't expected. Not that he had expected anyone. He was a classic Ravenclaw - he liked to read books and keep to himself.

He raised an eyebrow at the intruders, Harry Potter and Sirius Black themselves, silently questioning their reasoning for disturbing him. He was just about to pull out a new book too, and he couldn't bring that one out with the two light labourers there.

Instead of answering, the dog grinned and hopped in, taking the seat across from him, while Harry sat next to Sirius after closing the door.

"Thanks for letting us join you, Lycus! We needed a place to talk without disturbance and knew you'd be cool with us being here." Sirius said, completely disregarding the bored look on the Ravenclaw's face. Harry was nice enough to shoot him an apologetic look, to which he replied by giving an inaudible sigh, accompanied by a look of understanding. Sirius was granted the right to be annoyingly excited to do most things after thirteen years in Azkaban. It was only fair. It wouldn't surprise Lycus if they had actively sought out his compartment - Sirius had a generous soft spot for the Ravenclaw that found Wormtail in the Forbidden Forest, ultimately ensuring his freedom.

The two Gryffindors began to talk to each other about plans for winter break, to which Lycus ignored (though didn't tune out) and leaned back to get more comfortable for the long ride ahead. Grabbing an artbook and color-automatic pencil from his trunk, he began to draw out some runic templates to try out when he got bored.

At some point during the ride, the two Gryffindors finished their planning and instead turned towards other topics, some of which Lycus participated in. Small banter continued through the rest of the ride.

The ride ended right after the drawing was finished, and the two Gryffindors had exited with a farewell by the time Lycus got the artbook back in the trunk.

He allowed himself a small smile when he got home. Free for three weeks.

The first of which was spent preparing for Marvolo's return. Unlike what one may think, it wasn't a blood or sacrificial ritual. It could be considered dark, but not necessarily evil. It was also rather simple, like many successful things in life. Occam's Razor. In fact, it required only one incantation.

T'was a Reincarnation Ritual, done when you wish to force a reincarnation before the soul's time, or to call the reincarnated soul that's in it's new body to you. It was created by Marvolo and Lycus - Marvolo with the idea, and Lycus with the knowledge to make it happen - based on a preceding ritual. Marvolo tested it (more like had Barty test it), and it was capable of taking a soul out of an inanimate object, and transferring it to a body, rather than making a new one. The caveat was that there was a soul mass to body mass ratio, so if you didn't have enough of a soul in the object, it would be unable to properly transfer and animate. They had half of Marvolo's soul, which should be enough, but it was always possible that it wouldn't be.

The preparation for it was creating the body, a potion, a very special leaf, and setting up the rune circle in which the body will be placed for the soul to enter.

The body was rather easy. Lycus was exemplary at ancient runes, far beyond that of what Hogwarts could ever teach. Granted, he had been provided with advanced runes from birth, so perhaps it was an unfair comparison. To him, the creation of a body with the specifications of being based off the original Tom Marvolo Riddle, alive and human, with the capabilities, repercussions, and magic to fit the wizarding bill, was kind of child's play. It was just like copying a prewritten text to a new page.

A silver moon leaf is a leaf of a yew tree, funnily enough, which had been covered in dew and placed under the light of a full moon. From a yew tree, because they were connected to death and resurrection already. The dew was just a transmitter of power from the moon, which, when full, provided some artifact of life giving magic. Lycus didn't fully understand it. The texts his mother had only went into so much detail. Such leaves are common, however, as they aren't that difficult to make. The only issue is that they only work when decently fresh.

The pendant had been soaking in the potion for eight days. It was akin to a Pepper Up potion, but it was made for a disembodied soul rather than a living person. Not surprisingly, a disembodied soul has a hard time being aware or doing things. The potion set out to make sure Marvolo was able to find his body, both by making him aware and by providing him with a connection to his body. It was designed by Lycus's father, a private potions master. Once the potion turned dark silver, Lycus began the ritual.

The golem-like body was in the center of the previously drawn runic circle, clothed, with runes on the inner outline with nine paths leading to the body, runes lining the inside of these paths as well, all geared to guiding the energy of the spell to the body rather than allowing it to escape. Walking over to the body, Lycus took the pendant out of the potion and placed the sapphire directly over the heart of the body. The rest of the potion was poured into the mouth of the body, and a wisp of light appeared, wrapping around the body, connected to the sapphire.

The teen placed the leaf on top of the pendant, stood up, and backed out of the circle. Once out, he knelt down to place his hand on the outermost part of the circle to provide it with power after he cast the spell. Focusing his magic, he looked at the leaf, and whispered one word in Parseltongue, courtesy of Marvolo. "§Fiendfyrei§."

The leaf blazed in a black fire, quickly turning stormy grey, and battered against the edges of the circle, but always forced back to the body by the nine paths. The sound of glass breaking was heard as the sapphire broke, releasing the half soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Looking at his watch, Lycus wondered if he would have enough energy after this was done to get to reading that one goblin book. He couldn't leave until Marvolo successfully entered his body: the runes have to be continuously powered lest he wanted the circle to break.

Lucky for him, Marvolo was conscious enough to find his body within a minute. The fire dimmed down and dissipated in a few seconds after the soul entered the body.

Once feeling the circle wouldn't break if he stopped powering, Lycus brought his magic back into himself. Marvolo, for the body is no longer just a body, sat up, blinked, and grinned. The amber eyes of Lycus rolled at that.

"To have hands again!" to accompany this, Marvolo brought his hands up to look at said hands, flexing them and bending their fingers as though they were odd and new appendages. "And not be a snake-face."

"I rather liked the snake-face. Perhaps not the most terrifying, but better to watch people avoid looking at you in fear than to watch them avoid looking at you because they'll blush." Lycus shook his head lightly, snorting in amusement.

"Perhaps... but a charming appearance is only beneficial for our plans you'll have to agree." the newly human Dark Lord stated, expecting no disagreement despite the semi-questioning tone he used.

"Naturally. But you're not the one who has to do most of the charming." Lycus countered. Marvolo may have chosen to have his original body back, but that didn't mean anything when you have magic to disguise yourself. What did matter was that Marvolo did more management than active interaction. At least, that was the plan.

"Hmm, perchance it seems that I may be more involved than we initially decided. I don't fancy the idea of being complacent, you see." Marvolo said, once more with the tone that he didn't expect any opposition to the notion described. Lycus would grant him acquiescence for the time being, opting to slowly nod his head in reply. It's not like he really minded the idea of Marvolo taking a more active stance.

After a few seconds of silence, the teen stood. "Well, while I'd love to continue this exhilarating conversation, I have a book to read," and he began to walk out.

"Of course, of course. Just remember that we have things to do very soon!" Marvolo called after, holding up the broken pendant as a reminder of what exactly they needed to do.

Anyways, hope y’all enjoyed. Till next time.