#even if it really muddies the waters of how i believe this name should be pronounced

[my-burnt-city]

tired: saying "laocoön" like "raccoon" because there's a double O in it

wired: saying "laocoön" like "now go on" because the diaeresis over the last O means it should be pronounced separately from the previous letter like in naïve or brontë

inspired: saying "laocoön" like "raccoon" because the accenting issue pales in importance next to the fact that he is a grubby little vermin man who likes to hang out near the tenement trash cans and has horrible little hands

[hiskillingjar]

Hey! I hope you're having a nice day. I'm the anon that asked about the inside names a while ago, I really appreciate you getting out of your way to answer me! <3. I was thinking, could you please write Ren x Strade where Ren gets jealous of one of the new victims and Strade "consoles" him by letting him watch TV with him in the sofa and *maybe* having some fun only the two of them? I firmly believe that Strade canonically did those kind of things (even if we didn't see it) to keep Ren closer and not make him want to escape. You're free to decline the request btw, no pressure intended! Hope you have a great day (:

huh…the poison really DOES drip through (that's a succession reference because i enjoy quality television)

1700+ words, she/her for a fem mc

Ren had grown accustomed to his new routine in Strade’s domain, for lack of a better word.

In the mornings (or early afternoons), he’d wake up, make breakfast, clean up after himself, then maybe, occupy his time with a new show or his filtered internet access. Mid-day, he’d eat lunch, take a nap, and, of course, try not to get himself killed (an important task!) In the evenings, if he made it that long, he’d make dinner, clean up, and maybe have a bath to balm his new wounds, before going to bed.

Then the cycle would start all over again, day after day.

It was easy, despite the danger, and it was stable, and though he was smart enough to know that this wasn't what a life should be, living like a captive animal, too scared to make even one mistake lest he be punished for it, there was a certain comfort to knowing exactly what he was going to do, every day for the rest of his life.

Hence, his irritation when a new pet had come in and fucked all that up.

And hence why now he was cleaning up after a dinner he hadn't even made (or enjoyed enough to warrant his exchange of chores. She was a vegetarian, for god's sake.)

He seethed silently to himself, dragging the metal scouring sponge up and down a greasy frying pan, sticky with brown sauce and burnt tofu, turning the dishwater a muddy brown colour.

This was just about the chores, he told himself, this was about the disruption to his routine throwing him out of wack and disorientating him, it was just that.

His anger surely had nothing to do with the beaming smile Strade gave her when she presented dinner, reminding the young man of a husband and a new (inexperienced) wife, or the way he pet her hair all the while as he ate, or even the way he complimented the meal, commenting that she should make dinner more often, because "Ren's got a routine about his cooking" and he’d grown bored of it.

It was nothing to do with that, surely.

No way. 

“God, I can see that scowl from the other room.”

Ren let out a surprised yip when he heard Strade’s voice, dropping the pan in the soapy water and soaking the front of his tank top.

He always had a way of sneaking up on him.

“S-Strade,” Ren replied, looking over his shoulder to the older man, who was idling in the doorway of the kitchen, picking his teeth. “Sorry, I, um…I’m just doing the dishes.”

“I can see that,” Strade replied as if it was obvious (and it was) before he crossed the threshold of the kitchen and paced towards the younger man. "You're looking pretty dour, Ren. Why the long face, hm?" He then asked, raising a brow and leaning against the kitchen island, his hip slightly cocked.

"It's…it’s nothing," Ren murmured softly, his gaze going back and switching between his shaking hands, bunched up in the front of his murky grey tank top, and the dirty dishwater where the pan was still waiting to be cleaned.

"It's not nothing, otherwise you wouldn't be in such a mood," Strade retorted with a huffed chuckle. "Come on, tell me what's on your mind. I can’t deal with you acting bitchy for the rest of the evening."

"I just..." Ren sighed, forcing himself to relax. He had a tendency to be on edge around Strade, though. 

“Just?” Strade drawled out. “Don’t lie to me, Ren. You know how bad you are at it.”

"I…” Ren’s voice was barely a whisper as he glanced off to the side, his face heating up and feeling hot. “I miss you, I suppose."

"You…miss me?" Strade sounded genuinely surprised as he took a step closer, encroaching on the younger man’s space, as he so often did. "Well, that’s pretty silly. We live in the same house, buddy. I see you every day."

"You know what I mean," Ren replied quietly, biting his lip, his sharp, little fangs hooking over his lips and marking them with stark indentations, about to bleed. "It’s like….since you picked up the new girl, it's just been...different, ya know. Like, with everything and not just…mm, between us."

Strade was quiet for a good while, his golden eyes drifting upwards with thought, before he let out a good-humoured chuckle (low and pleasant and rumbling), shaking his head fondly as he stepped even closer to the young man and slid his big palm along the exposed skin of his back. 

"Are you jealous, Ren?" Strade murmured, his voice low and almost teasing.

"Of course, I'm fucking jealous," Ren replied openly (he was never good at lying anyway), his voice an irritated rasp as his extremities bristled with nervous (quietly delighted) energy at being touched so intimately. "I’m all alone and you've got a new...thing to play with. She's even doing all my chores, like...like you're husband and wife or something"

"Mm," Strade hummed with subdued amusement, resting his stubbly chin on Ren's shoulder and rubbing at the space where his skin and tail met. It was incredibly sensitive. "See, I always thought you didn't like my games...you fought back hard enough that I thought that way, anyway..."

"I-I don't," Ren said, his fingers curling into tight fists, trying to ignore the little jolts of pleasure that shot through his back as Strade pressed his thumb against the nub of flesh at the base of his tail. "But I, ah...i-it was worth it when you were nice to me, you know. Now, you just...ignore me. I hate it."

"Hmph," Strade huffed out a chuckle, so effortlessly charming, so easily likeable, no wonder he had no trouble picking up new prey. "Come now, there's no reason to be jealous. You know you're my first, don't you, fuchs?"

Ren said nothing but shivered as he felt Strade lean in even closer, felt his hot breath on his skin, the warmth and lowness of his accent when he said his pet name for the younger man enough to make every part of his body throb with desperate, needing want. 

He was a sucker, that was for damn sure. 

"You'll always be my first. Having someone new here doesn't get rid of that." Strade's hand ran further down, stroking over his tail before landing on his backside, giving it a firm grope. "There really is no reason at all to be jealous of someone new...though I have to admit, it's incredibly cute."

"Strade-" Ren whimpered, shaking hands gripping the edge of the marble counter (expensive, bespoke, how much blood had been spilt for him to afford this kitchen, this house, this life?)

"If I were a worse person, I'd use that to my advantage, you know." He continued, his fingers greedily palming Ren's ass before slipping beneath his shorts and reaching to the front. cupping and squeezing his slowly hardening cock as he pressed his cheek to Ren's, stubble-dotted skin against his, smooth and youthful and ripe for the taking. "Take this opportunity to see you really rip into my new pet, tear her apart, just for you to prove how loyal you are to me."

Ren bit his lip hard enough that he felt the slow trickle of blood bead down his chin, but the pain didn't deter him from shifting his hips forward and seeking more of Strade's warm grip.

"But, well..." The older man mused. "I'm pretty bad, but I'm not that bad."

"Mm," Ren moaned, bringing his fist to his lips to keep himself quiet (and to wipe away the blood) as Strade worked his cock to full hardness, his knot swelling with blood. "You're awful..."

"Ah, I don't think you mind," He quipped with another low chuckle, pressing his lips to Ren's cheek and squeezing him a little tighter. "Otherwise you wouldn't be jealous."

"Ngh-" Ren's hands went down to Strade's, his weak grip pulling at his wrist and his hips shifting forward even more, desperate for any degree of attention that the older man would give him, no matter the cost.

"You're my boy, Ren," Strade reminded him, his lips trailing down his trembling jaw, in a gesture as close to a kiss that someone like Strade could manage. "My number one. I'll never be able to replace that. You do know that, don’t you?"

"Mmhmm, yeah," Ren stammered, his voice weak and quiet and so utterly submissive that it made his legs (and cock) twitch. "I'm...mm, I'm your boy..."

"Yeah, you are," Strade growled indulgently, pushing his own hips forward and letting Ren feel the growing hardness of his cock through his khakis. "I hope you don't forget that, fuchs...I'd hate to have to remind you."

"Mm...n-no, sir," Ren replied quickly with a jerked nod of his head. "I won't forget, promise."

"Good boy," Strade praised, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head (right next to his twitching ear) and prying himself away, idly groping his cock as he did so but looking as casual and easy and so fucking untouchable, like he always did. "Hey, how about we have a night together, just us two?"

"H-Huh?" Ren looked towards the older man with a confused look (apparently unaware or uncaring just how much his cock was tenting his loose shorts).

"Yeah, I've got one of those, ah…those nature shows you like recorded." He beamed, just as he had with the girl when she'd made dinner, and it was enough to make Ren’s heart hurt. "How about it? Boy's night?"

Ren didn't care about nature shows. 

But Strade did, and it was one of the few things they actually did together, before the girl had interrupted their peace. 

So, Ren smiled back, his tail wagging and his ears perked up high on his head.

"Y-Yeah! That sounds...really great." He nodded eagerly. "Um, let me just finish the dishes and then we can...yeah, watch it."

"Wunderschon," Strade laughed handsomely and crossed his thick arms over his chest. "That’s great, I'll get it queued up.” He turned to leave the kitchen. “But don't take long, buddy, or I'll start without you."

"Sure, won't take long." Ren smiled to himself again, turning back to the dishes.

"Oh, and Ren?"

"Hm?"

"You really should warm up to our new guest already, hm? I never said I minded sharing her with you...and she's a better fuck than you probably give her credit for~"

[ismelinor]

Nothing Personal

My contribution to Fictober 2023, using prompt 5 from this list: Fine, explain it to me. No archive warnings apply.

Read on AO3 | words: 914 | tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023

Summary: Scully feels like Mulder was manipulating her emotions with that almost-kiss in Fight the Future. She decides to give him a taste of his own medicine when they're fighting about Diana.

“You’re making this personal.”

Oh, for Christ’s sakes. She turned on him, eyes like fire, and he had the good grace to look a little scared.

“Mulder, you are chronically incapable of not making things personal. Every case we work becomes your personal crusade. Every death is your cross to bear. Every decision I make you somehow twist to make about you.” She injected enough venom into that last one so she knew he'd think of Jerse without her having to say the name.

“That’s not-”

“No, it is, Mulder, and I’m sick to death of it.” To her horror, there were tears in her eyes. Mulder was doing his panic face; he could never stand to see her cry.

He took hold of her hands. “Scully, I swear, I never meant to hurt you.”

She wrenched her hands away. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Mulder! It’s always personal when you want something, isn’t it? When you want me to believe you, I’m your one in five billion. When you want me to stay with the FBI, you make a pretty speech and try to kiss me. Now you want me to stop arguing with you, so you never meant to hurt me. What about the rest of the time?”

Mulder blinked at her. “I always-”

“How would you feel if I tried that on you? If, instead of coming to you with the facts about Diana Fowley, I did this.” She stepped up to him, close enough that they’d be nose-to-nose if she were a foot taller, and put her hands over his heart.

“Mulder,” she said, soft and low so he had to lean in to listen. “You have to believe me. If you’re not with me on this, no one else on this planet will be. I know Diana’s your friend-” He leaned back slightly at the reminder of what this was about, but she pulled him back in with a gentle hand to his jaw. “-but I need you.”

She stepped back and said, in her normal tone, “Would that have worked?”

Mulder looked whiplashed. “Probably,” he croaked.

Victory didn’t taste that sweet after all. She was just tired, and a little embarrassed at how much she’d revealed. “There you go, then,” she sighed.

“It’s not like that, though. Do you really think I tried to kiss you so you’d stay with the FBI?”

She frowned. They were getting into muddy waters now; she should never have brought that up. “It might not have been your conscious intention, but-”

“It wasn’t my unconscious intention either. I know I can be an asshole sometimes, Scully, but I’d never-”

“What, manipulate my emotions? Isn’t that exactly what we’ve been talking about here?”

Mulder flared his nostrils in annoyance. “You might think that I’m some master of manipulation, but here’s the truth: I tried to kiss you because I wanted to. There was no Machiavellian plan, nor was there one when I was in a mental hospital trying to get you on my side. I just want you with me, all the time, because I’m a sucker and it makes me happy.”

Scully stared at him. She’d stopped following him at ‘because I wanted to’. “Why?” she asked, dumbly.

“Why does it make me happy?”

That wasn’t what she’d meant, but it was close enough. She shrugged.

Mulder smiled slightly. “I already told you: I love you.”

He had told her that before – and that time, he hadn’t even wanted anything from her. Naturally, she’d assumed it was the co-codamol that was so sure he loved her (and that she’d saved the world on a ghost ship in 1939). “There are lots of different ways of loving someone,” she settled on eventually.

Mulder groaned. “Fine, explain it to me. Tell me all the different ways you can love someone, and I’ll tell you which it is.”

“You can love someone like a sibling,” she said slowly, half-hoping and half-fearing that he’d stop her. “Like an annoying little sister you have to argue every little point with.” Mulder smiled but kept schtum. “Or like a friend. A best friend. Someone you’d lay down your life for.” She raised her eyebrows, but Mulder said nothing. She swallowed. “You can love someone with the love we’re supposed to have for all mankind. Agape.” Mulder rolled his eyes.

“Or…you can love someone like…like a lover. Like a man loves a woman. Like she’s your…your…”

“Your one in five billion?”

“Yes, like that.”

“Ding, ding. That’s the one, Scully.”

“Really?” Well, it wasn’t the worst thing she’d said in response to a love confession.

“Yes, really. God, why are you so difficult? I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. If you want to talk about Diana, I’ll hear you out: we’ll discuss it properly. But there’s something I’d rather do right now.”

“What’s that?” she asked, trying to bite back her smile.

He cupped her cheeks and murmured “this” against her lips.

Her eyes were just closing when a throat cleared from across the room. She spun around and there, standing in a row, were Byers, Frohike and Langly. They had matching expressions of wide-eyed disbelief. She couldn’t help laughing, but the breath was stolen from her as Mulder spun her back into him and kissed her.

There were whistles and cheers erupting from behind her, but she barely registered them until Mulder pulled away just long enough to say, “Piss off, boys.”

[nalyra-dreaming]

I've seen some accuse Daniel of victim-blaming or just being an insensitive ass in the interview, but I love him! He and Louis are both dicks to each other at times but that's what makes the Dubai segments interesting! And why would Louis hire a cynical, hard-bitten investigative journalist to write his memoir if he wasn't ready to be asked difficult, probing questions and be rigorously scrutinized? There's plenty of hack biographers out there. Do you think Daniel is guilty of victim blaming?

I think Daniel is doing exactly what he has been called in to do... only Louis underestimated a bit how good Daniel has become in the decades since last they spoke.

Of course there is more to Louis' hiring Daniel... (namely their history and Daniel's history with Armand)... but that doesn't mean that he should have expected for Daniel to treat him with kid gloves.

Was Daniel a bit crass in regards to Claudia's diary (for example)? Yep. He was also quite honest. Brutal honesty can come across as pretty aggressive.

What I personally like about Daniel is that he does not treat them as if they're made of glass. Not even Armand, even though he long suspects him. Daniel, despite having been attacked by Louis does go for the cracks in the armor. And he finds them - and tears that armor apart.

Also, lets not forget... Daniel has likely lost years of his life to those two vampires... The stuff he is only remembering now? Life-changing, literally.

I'm not sure rude qualifies anywhere close to what Devil's Minion was - or will be.

And... victim-blaming, really? Is this about the "Louis staying a believable victim"?...

Because if it is - the question will be (imho) - to whom?

Or... what.

Season 2 is coming up, and the waters in regards to all that will become mightily muddied.

And maybe it is a good thing that Daniel drags that out into the open.

[lashton-is-my-drug]

ok so i don’t even know how i stumbled upon your page but i’m a relatively new fan to the 5sos family and i don’t really ship any of the boys buttt i read some of your posts and i can kinda believe lashton. so my first question for you is, do you ship malum and if lashton weren’t real, what other ship would you believe? also, i saw you mentioned them being managed by modest, and as a larry from the 1d fandom, i know all about them. i was wondering if you could explain more on that. thank you!!

First off, Hi and Welcome! Always nice to meet new people! haha

I also love to discuss and answer questions, so thank you for your good questions!

If you keep scrolling around and clicking through my hashtags you should eventually find my masterposts, lyrics analysis of a handful of songs, etc etc, and theres the matching rings of only Luke and Ash of which neither have ever worn with any other members, there's only been the brotherhood necklaces. When I first looking into them I let myself remain really really cynical until I started seeing that there were ongoing things, one after the other, that was different than was going on with the other guys. Yes, they're a brotherhood of soulmates but Luke and Ash have this added layer of treating each other. Any particular questions you're not finding an answer to even after looking through my blog, just let me know.

I don't like to refer to my beliefs as shipping, as I see that they're individually closeted, and then there's the added layer of their closeted relationship. The "shipping" that has gone on is what has muddied the waters of people being affectionate and friends vs affectionate and lovers. Vastly different, as you know the same with Larry, and the other closeted relationships that are in 1D. So, therefore, I don't believe any of the other pairings with Luke or Ash have any sort of romantic validity. Could they have experimented or whatever? Sure, none of us would know. But from the evidences, there's nothing to back that up. Cal and Michael knew each other since 2nd? grade, so they've had lots of time to be really bonded and how they've acted with each other has evidences of being boyfriends along the way. No idea if thats currently going on though. I have suspicions of Cal possibly being with Roy (longtime fellow musical artist friend), who lived with him during lockdown. But I won't get into their whole story right now. Thats a lot to cover.

Luke and Ashton are my faves and who I tend to focus on 98% of the time. So regarding Michael/Cal, I'll answer questions in DM if you're really that interested.

They were managed by Modest right out of Australia back when they first started. I'm about to very shortly post a timeline of Lashton and I'm planning to post a relationship of modest/5sos throughout the years. Think of all the tactics that have been used of modest towards the 1D boys, 5sos has a vast amount of the same things. Lots and lots of stunts/bearding (which I could post a lot more about but I try to keep that negative stuff away but I will talk abut should it be something thats specifically asked or is particularly relevant), being overworked, tabloid narratives including trying to force narratives of what/who songs are about (thankfully the boys have fought to control that as much as they are able to). Is there anything specific you're wondering about regarding this topic? Yes, they were treated like crap with them. So much so that during their 10 Year anniversary podcast where they recounted their career, year by year, they never said their name. Not once. They also weirdly left out the story how Luke and Ash actually met, which they've fondly told a handful of times before... it was kinda just breezed past (Wasn't part of the bands story? 🤔 )

Not sure what else to include so I'll stop here. haha

[blueberrybleedcake]

Episodio 2 capitulo 2/7 threats and danger

As they left the infirmary, Rosty and Chuwy purposely left Samael and Dressy far behind.

Samael: Oh right I forgot to give you this *gives him a heart-shaped box of white chocolates* I bought it for you

Dressy: Aww samael you didn't have to

Samael: Ah ~ dear, her beauty makes me delirious that oh I'm still stunned by the bucket of water they threw me

Dressy: Mmmh and is it true what you said about... destroying them?

Samael: What!? Do you really think I would get mad at someone for giving me 1st and 2nd degree burns? pffff of course not good as long as they don't make me a comic making fun of me oh something like that

*- CHAPTER 3 THE COMIC-*

After school samael was so attentive to give all his valuable attention to ah sia dressy that he even *ALMOST* forgot to take revenge on the boys he couldn't hit or hurt them as it would look bad in front of dressy so he resorted to ah jokes he wasn't very good with them and almost always someone would come out with a mutilated limb but fine so when they were walking through the halls he smeared them with paint he didn't say a single word he didn't even laugh oh something like that, he just left as if he hadn't clearly done something accuse him with the director oh with some teacher it would be totally useless so they decided to take "Justice" into their own hands obviously creating a COMIC

~GRAY DEATH AND CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS~

He had a very bad boy so bad that everyone was afraid of him that his name was Sam- Ehhhh Samin! that's right Samin and he was also very intelligent and very scientific because he could say sternocleidomastoid oh Deoxyribonucleic and those difficult words but apart from believing himself to be a know-it-all he also sent the children to Asher things that they did not want like like

Like they eat the black part of the bananas☠️ oh don't let them play outside because they get muddy and things like that

but one day he stumbled into a puddle of toxic waste and became The Gray Death

(How clearly I don't know how to draw, so I proceed to tell you how gray death would look like, it would look like an amorphous and vomitous stain with bubbles that exploded in his body and burned, in addition to where his heart should be, there was only a black hole he was referring to that samael cannot love, oh, being a monster, he does not feel compassion for anyone or anything, he also had a smiling face that seemed to cry in his stomach as if not a parody of the brooch that samael always wears on his head)

and started to destroy the city *Blam pluss pam pujjj*

But then captain underpants arrived and, I don't want to tell this anymore but it's obvious that captain underpants won and gray death went home crying

Alan: Are you sure this is a good idea? I don't know samael could seriously hurt them that guy doesn't seem to be mentally well

George: And let him get away with it ever!

Harold: Yes! but you don't think that samael is going to be something to us, right?

George: Pusss what is the worst that could happen that he tries to kill us XD?

....

The next morning while samael was walking through the halls, giggling and murmurs about samael could be heard, he clearly didn't know anything until he found the comic, the handwasher apparently someone forgot it and after reading it, samael hit a bathroom door until it was destroyed at the same time grabbing was damaged in the hands

Samael: heh... heh heh... Hahaha...HAHAHAHA HAHAHAHA HAHAHAHA! I'm going to kill those bastards * With his fist he breaks the bathroom mirror leaving a slight but noticeable trickle of blood *

Uhg... But being close to dressy she can't do anything.. Uhm... I really love her I do but now I need her AWAY from me just until I-

*Opens the door to the bathroom*

Alan: But what happened-

Samael: I'm sorry, I think the Retarded's bathroom was confused, it's one floor above!

Alan: What's wrong with you IDIOT why-

*Samael approaches Alan until he faces him*

Samael: Asperger's syndrome... oh 1st degree autism

Alan: W-what!?

Samael: That's what you have. And considering that here they make fun of a simple last name that rhymes with some stupid word! I can't imagine how many jokes you would receive if they found out that you-

Alan: No... you wouldn't dare ah...

Samael: Of course I would but! I might as well just keep quiet of course nothing is free in this life

Alan: Do you want money?

Samael: Money? Hahaha! Of course not, I don't need your disgusting money, it's something simple, what I want to hear, I know you're friends with those IDIOTS, so I'll just ask you to stop Asher comic

Alan: But what if they s-if they refuse

Samael: It is obvious that they will refuse! Because you're not important enough in their lives for them to try to save yours, but we all keep secrets, right? *-smiles mischievously-*

Alan:....This is too low for you...

Samael: This is my biji isti pari you, will you do it YES or YES?

Alan: Well okay....

(Some characters will not appear again

[terielle]

Heal the Scars 10/?

Full Story on AO3 or in my mother tongue on Fanfiktion.de

I’m a bit behind on translating, and I really want to get forward, but I keep slowing myself down. I thought of this animal my self, my inspiration was „Rex“ from „primeval“, a Coelurosaurus from the body, but smaller. And then I thought: Well, there are banana crocodiles and stuff like that, just do whatever you want. Still, I apologize to all actual Reptile enthusiasts, if I strayed to far from reality. I never had any classes in Latin, so I just looked up the words on their own and that was then result.

Another thing: I highly doubt the marines have enough Doctors for every single ship, more like they have some soldiers with an advanced direst aid training and doctors can be found at the bases. I hope the end is as much fun to you as to me.

The Kaeru Archipelago was a swamp with smaller and bigger piles of land. And even the „land“ was still covered in swamp water, so it was necessary to wade through mud. When she researched for the journey’s preparation she didn’t want to believe it, but the trees and bushes truly adjusted to the saltwater. Before reaching the island group, she reinforced that some of the local animal, some, not all, were poisonous and they had to be careful. 

Why she was knee deep in swamp water despite that? Well, the list with famous last words should add „I bet you don’t dare to lick more frogs than me“. To save their comrades, two groups of marines stomped through the island to find a cure. Apparently, there was a plant at the Kaeru Archipelago, which could be used as an antivenom.

. While it was unclear, which poisonous frogs they got, they could at least limit it to frogs because toads would have been to disgusting. So they weren’t sure if it would help. Elizabeth couldn’t find out which kinds lived on the islands. But after a long call with the marine headquarters all poisonous kinds could be named another plant to cure it was described to them. Of course, there would have been a book about the poisonous species on Kaeru Archipelago at West Winds Marine Base, but it was nowhere to be found and no one even thought of warning Drake or Elizabeth.

The Plant they were looking for grew about a meter high, had palm sized olive-green fan shaped leaves and small white blossoms. The cooked leaves should be an antidote to most frog poisons.

She lost all sense of time, the high of the sun was her only orientation. She left at noon, now the sun was a lot deeper., so they had been here for quite a few hours.

Mud water entered her boots after the first steps, but that was no surprise. The muddy swamp water reached her only ankles at best, most of the time to her knees and more than once she was covered up to her hip bones.

„Master Chief petty Officer, look!“ one of their men shouted and pointed to her left. Truly there, only a few steps away grew the sought after plant between ferns.

„Finally“ they collected as many leaves as possible, before heading back. Or better walking toward the vague direction of the ship. Since there were no actual paths or other landmarks, they had to navigate with the sun and walk at the edge of the island until they were back at their ship.

„Inform the Captains group“ she turned to the carrier of the mobile transponder Snail. She didn’t like to carry them, because she didn’t like the thought of carrying a living being at her wrist and swinging it around with every move.

From the very beginning it was clear to return to the vessel before dusk, since they would stand a chance at finding the plant in the dark. And they would most likely get lost in the swamp. But returning successfully and ending the search earlier was a welcome option. Not only because they could help their both comrades, before the poising got too bad. But also, to escape the countless mosquitoes. The earlier she could leave the stinking swamp, the better. She really had no clue how to ever clear her boots again, burning them seemed a pretty neat way. On the other hand, it would be a good task for the two geniuses who were responsible for the whole mess. She decided to recommend that to the captain.

The way back took a lot longer than expected. They didn’t have to keep their eyes open, but the muddy ground slowed them down, and they had to follow the coastline a rather long time.

At the Marine Ship Drake and his group already waited for them, swell as the medics who stayed behind.

Elizabeth barely trusted her eyes. If most of them hadn’t been covered with mud at least up to their waists like her, she was tempted to think, they have been waiting long enough to take showers and get changed. But in the middle of the very muddy and wet soldiers stood Drake, untouched by any swamp water. While the leaves got processed, Elizabeth circled Drake with an impressed gaze.

„Captain, Sir, you have to teach me that trick“ she pointed from her rather worse for wear uniform - yes, for this she got the standard uniform, as if she would ruin her good clothes - to his pristine white cloak. Not even the hem got any specks of dirt.

„Unfortunately, that isn’t possible. Unless you eat a a devilfruit, but I wouldn’t risk it just for that purpose“ He didn’t seem to have any pity, but a least he didn’t laugh at her. And he didn’t let on, how much she and her comrades had to smell. The swamp smell was bad to her, but with his good sense of smell it had to be horrendous to him.

„So you just transformed into a giant dinosaur to stay neat?!“ she was a bit bristled about it, it was just unfair.

„For better sight and advancement“ he corrected.

„Would you excuse me, to get this“ she gesticulated to her legs „fixed?“

„Is the condition of your clothes your only concern right now?“ he asked slowly.

„No, of course not Cut it is the concern I can handle right now. I am also worried about my comrades. And who was to clean up all this mess“ the whole deck looked awful by now. All of the crew had swamp water dripping from their clothes, and then there were the muddy footprints.

„And that’s it?“ she was a bit bothered by his way of asking.

„Captain, Sir, I beg your forgiveness, but even the most polite and formal etiquette with continuous saluting could not compensate for the affront of stepping information of my captain in such a state. If you allow, I will forgo it and instead fix this as soon as possible“ she shot him an excusing smile. It was unpleasant enough, but that he mentioned it made it worse.

„Thats not what I‘m talking about“ his eyes held a unordinary sparkle „You have something in your hair“

„What?!“ She wanted to pat down her head, but he got hold of her hand.

„Thats a bad idea, they attack when they get scared“

„What?“ she whimpered scared. She broke out in Cold sweat broke. Something sat on her head, and apparently it was able to attack her. She had thought about mud, twigs, leaves or other parts of Kaeru Archipelagos flora, but not about anything living „Can you take the beast away?“

„Not a beast. A Palus Draco Volans, very rare to see. They usually live very secluded. And they’re not aggressive, just if they feel threatened. they have very sharp claws and tiny mean teeth“ the sparkle was definitely exited.

„That doesn’t help me at all“ her voice at least one octave higher than usual, she was completely frozen.

„Palus Draco Volans means Flying Swamp dragon. Sometimes they get called swamp dragon“ he either completely misunderstood her or really thought a precise description would ease her mind „with this size it is still very young, probably fell out of the nest. With the two-colored stripes on its back, it has to be female, they‘re better camouflaged. But the males have a bigger crest on their head, to impress their enemies. They’re exceptional climbers, like most lizards. they lay their eggs on trees, out of reach of any potential predators. With their tiny wings they are able to fly from the tree…“

She just looked at him absolutely dumbfounded. She was nearly wetting herself due to fear and he placid gave a lecture about some lizards.

„Captain, Sir, please“ she interrupted with shaking voice and still high pitched voice „Can you take it off of me?“

„Her“

„What?“

„It is a she“

She could strangle him right now. Respect be dammed. „Could you please take her off me?“

„Oh, sure“ he stepped closer „No need to be afraid my dear, no harm will happen to you. I promise you pretty one, i will take care of you. See, I‘m not doing anything to you. May I touch you, love? So delicate and soft. How do you like this? My beauty, do you want to come with me? How about the two of us go somewhere a bit more comfy?“

For a split second she thought, he finally decided to calm he down. But since his gaze was firmly locked on the animal on top of her head, it was obvious he wasn’t talking to her. if she hadn’t been so pent-up, she surely would have seen how Cleoma fought hard against laughter. She only managed to relax, when drake took two steps back.

„Isn’t she gorgeous?“ he held the small winged lizard introns of her

„Uhm, sure“ he looked so excited, she didn’t have the heart to say no. And she had to confess, it was really a bit cute, how the swamp dragon moved his head and raised and flattened the crest on her head. And maybe she realized her fear had been unnecessary. But how could she have known that?

While he brought the small creature to the next tree, Elizabeth went to the Showers with Cleoma.

A while later, in the woman’s bathroom. Cleoma and Elizabeth were already drying them selves, when Amber arrived

„Amber, you won't believe, what you missed“ the brunette waved her towel exited through the air.

„It has to be pretty awesome, if you‘re getting nude for it“

„I think the captain just flirted with Lizzy“ Cleoma sang with a very wide grin.

„I would have thought he would make such a bold move on his first officer. Maybe its the wet pants, they compliment your backside“ Amber had to grin as well.

„Well At least there is one compliment directed to me today, instead of the lizard on my head“

„You‘re saying, he was hitting on a lizard?“ Cleoma giggled.

„Well, they do say Zoan fruits have a will of their own“ Amber couldn’t hold back as well.

„Please, ladies. This is still your captain you are talking captain you are talking about!“ Elizabeth may put in an effort to scold them, but in the end, she had to join them. The whole situation had been absurd. 

[ven10]

For the weird asks: 1, 4, 9, 17, 56! :)

Hi Cygninae! :) Thanks for the ask! :))

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

Coffee mugs but I drink tea in them bc I don’t like coffee much. (Though I had a mocha once and it was delicious! Although I’m not 100% sure there was even any caffeine in it 🤔 so idk if it’d even count as coffee) ☕️ [btw cygninae, I’m aware ur ideas on how tea should be drank are horribly warped so if u ever need advice of how to fix such an askew set of beliefs…well, I’ll be right here for u buddy😔☕️. You can get through this, I believe in you 😔💪🫵🫂]

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Always got the classic “quiet” and “a pleasure to teach!” comments however in my last year of primary school my teacher said I have “a witty sense of humour” + I still think about that sometimes :)

Although, this one year a student teacher came to my class and if you’d have asked her she’d have probably started spouting an entire thesaurus worth of insults bc she, for some unknown reason, had a vendetta against my entire class and especially me.

For example, the main teacher (not student) allowed all the students to read their own books once they finished their work, right? So, after I finished my work I brought out my book and started to read. All the other 5ish people at my table were already reading. The student teacher walks up behind me, leans down right in my ear, closes my book (LOSING THE PAGE!!!😭😖😣😢🫣🫠🫢😬😱😨)and hisses “This is not a literacy lesson, *my name*!!” Then she proceeded to stalk away, ignoring everyone else at my table + at the other tables who were ALSO reading and had started before me.

Not to continue ranting about something that happened years ago there was also another time where our main teacher left the student teacher in charge for 15mins while the main teacher attended a meeting. When the main teacher returned the student teacher made up an entire story about how badly behaved our class was including, but not limited to, how we all shouted over her, ran around and threw pencil cases across the classroom. None of those things happened.

9.favorite smell in the summer?

There’s a pretty distinct smell of Summer mornings that I like a lot; I think it’s a mix of damp grass and fresh air, possibly other factors too. It smells of freedom, energy and possibility, with a bit of nostalgia chucked in there too for good measure! ☀️

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

Honestly? A pair of painfully muddy trainers.

However if I’m to be seen in public (excluding other people on walks etc) I’ll put on either a pair of black high tops or black boots (that sort of look like dms)!

56. favorite tradition?

Every year after putting up the Christmas decorations my family watches a specific movie together. It’s really nice! Although getting trickier to organise by the year since we don’t all live in the one place anymore! :) 🎄 📺

Thanks for the ask! This was fun to answer! Went on a bit of a rant on no.4 but u can just skip that if u don’t want to read it! Feel free to send more asks if you like, or drawing requests! :) (also if you do send drawing requests feel free to say what kind of style you want it to be in bc I’ve posted a few diff kinds+I enjoy drawing in different ways anyway)

:)

[anonymousad]

I don't really know what to say about the past week.

I am fully willing to own up to my mistakes here, as I did not approach everything with the tact I should have. I wrote my posts from the intersection of a "consumer" and "creator" of audio dramas, and so there are aspects that were directed and not-directed at both sides of that. the result is that it muddied the waters between what might be called a "critique" vs a "review" vs "advice". those things can coexist, but I did not do the best job at making the boundaries clear and so my intentions got a bit lost in the thick of it. I, like many of the people who had strong reactions to what I wrote, got caught up in my emotions about the subject at hand, stumbling in the execution of it. I do regret that I didn't find a better way to make some of my points and that it became more personal at times.

this triggered a response I did not anticipate. a response that had a direct impact on a friend of mine that some of you are convinced is my real identity. you are wrong, and I am not going to even name that person here because the amount of harm and abuse that I saw being sent their way just for being SUSPECTED as anon is disgusting and says more about the ones doing it than about anything I've ever said, and I do not want to open them up to more of it from people who don't currently know who they are. this is the same reason that everything I said on this account was done in an anonymous way to begin with, because this is the kind of targeted behavior that made it unsafe to share otherwise.

if I thought it were safe to do so, I would reveal my own identity to prove their innocence, but I do not feel the people leading this charge would do anything but cause more harm with that information, even if given privately. nothing stays private. and while I don't think that any one of them would doxx me publicly if they got that information, based on accusations made IN public spaces I fully believe that there would be intentional harm attempted against me in private. I am not a cis, white, able-bodied, well-off man either. anonymity is an important protection that it is clear I need to maintain.

I hope that some of the conversations I've started about crowdfunding and sustainability and how the community can re-examine the ways it engages with money will continue. I hope any anger towards me and the way I said it can be redirected towards looking for solutions and paths forward that can begin to address the thing I was trying to bring up. My intention in saying this is the same as it ever was: I want the community to be more realistic about ways to actually make money doing the art they love in a way that benefits everyone.

I think people are capable of having these conversations and not getting upset or feeling attacked by them, but that buy-in needs to come from those who are currently benefiting as well as those who aren't. I did a shit job getting that first group on board, but that doesn't mean it can't happen. and I still believe it needs to if we want the community to survive further than where chasing profit will take it.

you won't be hearing from me again.

[redorich]

Eventually the Hermits get their hands on the one shulker box. They give it back a day later, filled with goodies as an apology for stealing, because they just needed it briefly so Doc could set up a shulker box duplicator.

(2/2) To expand on the shulker box ask I sent: It's cheating. They know it's cheating. They debate for a while over wether or not they should build it. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and dammit they need shulkers. Mules and Llamas can only get them so far.

---

(this takes place before the fic where puffy finds zedaph.)

---

The Hermits put up with mule highways and caravans of spitting llamas because they think they have no choice. At least one person complains about the lack of sophisticated storage transportation daily. Mumbo tries to create a system which will ferry items between bases, but it turns out to be more of a Rube Goldberg machine than anything, considering the items only travel at the speed of the water which carries them. Zedaph creates an actual Rube Goldberg machine for item transportation, but the only people who use it are himself and his neighbors, Impulse, False, and Tango. It’s more for prank transportation and snail mail anyway.

Things change when Stress, on a covert surface run, comes a bit too close to other humans on accident and catches sight of a blond man in a hoodie furtively checking his surroundings. Stress immediately does as she’s been trained, hiding herself behind tree cover and checking how long her invisibility potion will be in effect for. It says four minutes. As long as he leaves soon, she won’t have an issue.

The man surveys the muddy clearing with a keen eye, keeping watch for any evildoing interlopers. He places down an Ender chest, reaches his hands into it, then looks around once again to make sure no one’s there. Stress’s heart beats like a drum-- not the style of drums she usually plays, but rather the percussion of one of Xisuma’s favorite black metal bands. As the man’s gaze passes right over her, she feels the machine gun fire of her heart against her chest peak, breath catching in her throat.

He doesn’t see her. Quickly, he pulls something out of the Ender chest. A shulker box!

Stress’s breath stops for an entirely different reason. The things the Hermits could do with even one shulker box..! Item dupers are a thing, right? If anyone knows how to make an item duplication machine, it would be Doc. And a shulker box might be useful for an item duping machine! 

She’s getting ahead of herself. Should she steal from this person? Can she steal from this person? Even disregarding the moral dilemma, the members of the Dream SMP are fighters through and through. She’s got the advantage of surprise because she’s invisible and this man doesn’t know she’s here, but how long will that last? Even if she manages to take it, what if the blond man (Punz, she thinks is his name) kills her and takes the shulker box back from her?

As Stress weighs the risks and the rewards, she knows she’s running out of time. Punz breaks the shulker box. Right as he’s about to put it back in his Ender chest, Stress, who can see the window of opportunity closing, springs into panicked action.

She sprints right past Punz, hoping with every fiber of her being that her invisibility potion will be enough to save her. Snatching the box right out of Punz’s hands, Stress takes off running. Punz shouts, swinging his sword wildly at the air. He’s so close that a few strands of hair, just barely the tips, get sheared off of Stress’s fluffy mane and become visible as they flutter to the ground.

Punz’s eyes narrow, tracking the potion particles that he can just barely see. Unfortunately for him, the invisible thief takes off into the mob-infested forest. He gives chase, but the thief gains on him every time he has to stop to fight a mob.

Stress knows she can’t outrun Punz. She’s not bad, but he’s really good. Stress absolutely cannot lead this man back to the canyon. Allowing the hostile mobs of the forest to buy her time by slowing Punz down, Stress looks around rapidly, searching for something, anything she can do to lose the hunter on her trail.

A lone cow catches her eye. Thinking fast, she bites her lip as she dumps her only water bucket out into a nearby pond where it won’t be noticed, then milks the cow. In the distance, a zombie groans as Punz takes it out. Stress hyperventilates, frantically digging at the ground beneath her feet with a silk touch shovel. Once she’s created a hole just barely big enough for her to hide in, she hops in and puts the grassy dirt she dug up just seconds ago above her head and immediately downs the milk, so that there won’t be any potion particles to track her by.

Slowly, carefully, and as quiet as she possibly can, she digs up the dirt beneath her feet in absolute darkness. Logically, Stress knows that Punz won’t be able to see the light from her torch, but she’s too terrified to think logically. What has she done?!

Her shovel stills as angry feet stomp above her. Dirt crumbles into her hair when Punz walks directly above her. Caustic mutters faintly reach her ears through the loamy earth, fading farther and farther away as Punz searches in vain for the invisible thief. Stress waits with bated breath for minutes on end, hands shaking like leaves in a hurricane. 

Tentatively, she digs up the diorite block below her with a pickaxe. A mob shifts aboveground and Stress, paralyzed with the paranoia that it might be Punz, spends another five minutes in immobile silence. Burying her face in her hands, she sucks in a breath and continues digging. Once she hits a decently low y-level, she digs forward, taking care to place all her blocks behind her exactly as they were before she mined them.

After a solid three hundred blocks, she begins to staircase back up. On one unfortunate swing of her pick, water floods into her staircase. She must be under a lake or a sea. She can make out some kelp, though, so hopefully that’ll be enough cover for her to go up and check her surroundings.

Stress takes a deep breath and plunges into the cold water. Swimming up, she catches sight of wood-- no way. There is no way she’s made it to the docks just outside of the canyon. Eagerly, she swims back down into her staircase for a breath of air and the chance to down an invisibility potion, then back up to the surface.

On the entire journey from the bottom of the sea to the elevator on the other side of the canyon, she expects someone to catch her, to notice the water she’s dripping on the ground, to somehow sense the guilt emanating off her in waves. It doesn’t happen. Stress makes it to the elevator and pushes the down button eagerly. Every foot the elevator descends down is another thousand pounds of weight off her shoulders. She’s exhausted, and so close to home base. If she can just make it into the Atrium, she’ll have succeeded.

The elevator dings, rousing Stress from her daydreaming. “I really am dead on my feet, ain’t I?” she murmurs to herself.

She makes her way into one of the village houses, avoiding the pressure plates and tripwires which she knows like the back of her hand by now. In the house, she presses a button, which opens a door which leads to a tunnel. Sagging in relief, Stress practically melts across the floor as she traverses the short tunnel and finally makes it into Atrium 1-- a large circular room with a rounded ceiling and plenty of light.

“Woah, Stress!” Ren exclaims, running to support her. The dark circles under his eyes make him look as exhausted as she feels. He’s been working round the clock at the tree farm to churn out enough wood to meet the demands of twenty-four Hermits.

“Stress?” Ren asks with concern in his eyes, gently shaking Stress’s shoulders.

She laughs, high-pitched and wild. She’s done it. She’s really gone and done it!

“I got a shulker box,” she breathes.

Ren gasps. “What?! No way, they’re not even a thing on this server!”

“Yes they are,” Stress sing-songs, “because I have one.”

She tosses him the cyan shulker box with a look of pride on her face. Ren looks at the box in his hands, then back up at Stress with wide eyes.

“We gotta go show Xisuma, my dude.”

---

The Hermits convene in the small meeting room in the residential district, then realize that the room is in fact small and twenty-four Hermits aren’t going to fit in it. Xisuma’s having a good day, so he decides to hold the meeting in Atrium 1.

There are many different opinions on the acquisition of the shulker box, which sits innocently in the center of the room. Some people like Wels believe that even if it’s a great boon, it was stolen and therefore the Hermits don’t have the right to use it. Things were different when they first arrived in the canyon; they stole small things in order to survive. A shulker is nice to have, but the Hermits won’t die without it. On the other hand, there are people who side with Grian, who believes that since the Hermits already have the shulker box, they might as well use it.

Doc rumbles a deep hm, indicating that he’s debating with himself whether he should say something or not. Finally, it seems that the side of him which wants to tell his fellow Hermits wins out.

“Have you guys considered shulker box duping?” he says. Immediately, there is a clamor of outcries, both for and against, as well as just plain disbelieving.

Tango speaks up: absolutely not. It’s cheating. False tentatively rebuts, though, that sometimes cheating is acceptable when it's for a good cause. After all, part of her season 7 base was dug out using TNT dupers. Mumbo awkwardly raises his hand and waits for someone to acknowledge him, which Grian does.

“Er… what if we give it back after we’re done with it?” Mumbo says. Tango still looks unhappy, but the idea seems to appease Wels.

“Friends,” Xisuma says softly. Everyone quiets down immediately. “Should we have a civil vote, or shall I decide?”

Immediately, everyone gets shamed into behaving. “We can vote,” Bdubs says. “Everyone in favor of not cheating?”

“Wait, what are our options?” Grian asks.

“Er,” Scar speaks up. “Keeping the box but not duping it, giving the box back, duping it then giving it back, or duping it and not giving the original back. Is that right?”

Bdubs nods. “Yeah! So, all in favor of keeping the one original box?” A few hands go up, maybe five or six.

“Giving the box back?” More hands go up.

“Duplicating the box, then giving it back?” Nearly a dozen hands go up.

“Well then,” Bdubs says, “I guess I don’t have to finish the options; dupe-and-return wins.”

Doc strides into the center of the room and mines up the shulker box before anyone can change their mind; Tango grumbles good-naturedly at having lost the vote. Meanwhile, while everyone discusses the vote, Joe ferries Xisuma off to his quarters.

“So who’s going to give the shulker box back when we’re done with it, my dudes?” Ren asks the room at large.

“I will,” Stress says immediately. “I stole it; it’s only right that I give it back.”

---

Two days later, Punz wakes up to a noise in his house. He reaches for a knife under his pillow; just because there is no one to be seen doesn’t mean that no one’s there, as Punz is well aware given the theft of his shulker box, which he is still smarting over.

He gets out of bed, treading softly. Right there, in the doorway, is the same shulker box he lost! He looks around. This has to be a trap. No one is around… Punz might as well spring this trap.

He opens the box. Nothing is missing. In fact, there are more items inside than there were when it was stolen from him! A totem of undying, four diamond blocks, two ingots of netherite, and a note which reads, Sorry I stole your box! I only needed to borrow it, but I felt bad so I left some extra goodies in. xoxo

“...Huh?” Punz says to himself. This is the weirdest prank ever.

He puts the box back into his Ender chest and resolves to think about it in the morning.

[star-lemonade]

The Altar

Ateez San x Reader

Genre: smut, candy shop au

Cw: smut, San likes it when you say his name

Rating: R

Word count: 5 k

Thanks to @yutasgalaxy​ for giving feedback. I changed a lot since you read it xD

“You should really go there.”

Your friend’s voice still rang in your ears. These words had been said to you so often lately. Your friend had heard good things about it, although you suspected it was first-hand experience. You felt frustrated about the lack of men in your life. It was hard to meet someone new and the few times you had actually met a nice guy, they had not been interested in you. Afterwards you felt the drought in your bed even more than usual. Maybe it was time. Time to go there. The Candy Shop.

You went to the address your friend provided. That was the first unusual thing. When you had looked for it online, you had not been able to find an address. How could there be a place that can not be found on the internet? The building was as mundane as a grey house between other grey houses could be. The entrance did not look like a shop either. The window next to the door was small and drapes obscured the view inside. Only the “open” sign at the door indicated that this was the right place.

You opened the door, and a bell announced your entrance to the empty room. It was a small space for a store, and it was filled to the brim with boxes. Boxes on shelves, boxes on the floor, in giant box towers, boxes hanging in nets from the ceiling. The oddest thing was their color; all of the boxes were the same warm grey. No writing. No pictures. How did anyone know what was inside the boxes? Maybe I’m wrong here? You turned to leave.

“Oh, there you are.”

The voice came from behind you and it sounded familiar. The woman looked exactly how you remembered her, Ms Lee, who had been your homeroom teacher in middle school. She wore a tie-dye tank top that showed off her wrinkly arms.

“Ms Lee?”

She smiled like a proud mother, not something you wanted to see in a sex toy shop. Her smile had always been an attractive feature of her. You could see why she had been the most popular widow at the school.

“No, dear. I’m the Owner.”

Even her voice sounded the same. At least you thought she sounded like Ms Lee. On the other hand it had been years since you had see her.

“Oh, excuse me.”

You could have sworn that she was your old teacher, but she was not. Good. Imagine running into your old teacher in a shop like this. Awkward.

“Ehm, I’m looking for something.”

There was no point in feeling embarrassed now. You had already entered the sex shop, but you still felt your face burn. If you act awkward, it will just be more embarrassing. Get it together! You were about to elaborate further when she said:

“Of course. I think I have just the thing. Follow me.”

How could the owner sound so confident, when you had not given her any information? She turned around and walked to the counter in the back of the shop, and you followed. Surprisingly the counter was not made out of boxes stacked on top of each other but from wood.

“Wait here, please.”

The Owner went behind the counter and left through a door. The side room too seemed to be filled with boxes, as much as you could see of it. You still wondered how she knew what was in each box. Did they all have the same things inside? Maybe there had been a shipment of something, and now it clogged up the place? She returned with a smile on her face.

“Here.”

She held the thing out for you, and without thinking, you took it from her. Why did you do that?

“A walking stick?”

The long wooden stick was knobbly and looked like it had been a small tree that someone debarked. It was not carved but it had grown relatively straight. The surface was polished and waxed, shining in the dim light of the shop.

“Yes. You should go and have a picnic.”

You stared at the stick and back to her incredulously. This must be a joke.

“But-”

“No problem,” The Owner waved you off. “That’s on the house. Have fun.”

She smiled before leaving through the door behind the counter. The lock clicked into place you were alone with your stick.

“...should I stick this in my butt or what?”

You shouted after her but the Owner did not return. Reluctantly, you left and went home.

That night you had a dream about your childhood house where your parents used to live. It was small and cozy in a tiny town near the mountains.

The mountains.

Yes, you missed going up the hidden paths to the tops of the small mountains. The forest that covered them had been your place to play when you had lived there. You had spent the years of your childhood running around in the undergrowth. In your dream the sun was shining from a bright blue sky that only came in autumn. You walked up the mountain as you had done many times. It was not clear to you if this was a memory or not but you almost felt the sun burn on your face. You reached the top of the mountain in what felt like a record time. Here stood a bench that overlooked the valley and your hometown. It was beautiful.

When you woke up, the dream had left a hole in you. You yarned for the home, that was not your home any more. You decided that you would go there.

Today. Now.

You got dressed, packed an overnight bag and ate a big breakfast. The ride to the town would take two hours, but you did not know if you would be able to return to your apartment in time. Hiking was exhausting and maybe you would be too tired to drive back to the city.

You grabbed the walking stick and went to your car. The drive was familiar. You had done it lots of times. Today the time flew and you found yourself pulling into the parking lot of the only supermarket of your hometown.

Maybe I should get some food? I will be hungry when I’m up there. You looked at the mountain that barely classified as one. Today the air was humid and mist hung over the forest beyond the town limits. Thegrey sky looked about ready to release more on the land. You did not really pay attention to what you bought. The old man at the counter looked up and smiled. You paid and left the store.

The parking lot where the hiking paths started was empty. It had just rained and most people had stayed at home. You packed the food and drinks into your backpack.

The path was slippery and your shoes sank a few centimeters with every step. This made the hike much harder and slower than you had expected. You knew the path well, even after all this time, your body moved on its own now. Pulling one foot out of the mud and planting it further up the path. Repeat with the other foot. In the forest you saw some trees that had fallen over. This was always the case of course but they were different from last time you had been here.

Some time later you found yourself at a bench, and stopped there to drink something. The next part would be a bit steeper so you pulled out the walking stick.

The ground was wet and the path was getting muddier the higher up you went. Maybe I should take a short cut to the top? If you went straight through the trees here, you would be there faster than following the path. You were impatient today and turned left into the forest.

The ground here was less muddy but you had to step more carefully. Holes in the ground could be hidden by dead leaves and small plants. Breaking your ankle in the middle of the forest did not sound like a good idea. The forest smelled of the herbs that grew all over the place. You considered picking some of them, but you were not sure which ones were really eatable. Ahead the trees grew less dense.

In the glade you saw something and walked closer to check it out. It was a slab of stone that was overgrown by moss and vines. You examined the stone closer and you noticed the top was smooth and the sides were covered in patterns. It was not an ordinary stone; It was an altar.

The altar of a forgotten deity. Lost in the forest and being consumed by nature without the care of the believers.

I don’t believe in gods, but it feels like I should pay my respects. You never know.

You set your backpack down next to the altar and picked up a stick that was lying on the ground. The moss grew mostly on the sides which would not be easy to clean but the top should be easier. You used the stick to scrape off the vines and grime that had accumulated there. It did not come off well but at least the altar looked a bit better than before. You drank some water from your bottle and looked into your backpack.

Maybe I should leave some offerings too?

You picked up a leaf and used it as a makeshift plate for the rice. The red apple and one of the little desserts would have to do.

“Have a good day.”

You returned to the car without having been to the top. It was still light outside so you decided to drive back to your apartment. You felt exhausted but you really wanted to sleep in your own bed.

When you arrived the sun had set and you were about to fall asleep. You fell into your bed and passed out, sleeping like the proverbial stone.

The next day was Sunday which was good. No work. No need to get out of bed either.

You showered, made yourself a quick breakfast and got back under your warm blanket. Sunday morning was the perfect time to do nothing. You turned on the tv and continued to watch the drama you had started the prior week.

The couple got together in this episode and it made you feel so single. Seeing them kiss on screen made you miss kissing. Yeah, just kissing. What a lie. You paused the video. Maybe I should watch some porn instead? It still bugged you that your trip to the Candy Shop had been so fruitless. Why did you get a walking stick? The stick. You had not taken it with you. It was probably still next to the altar in the forest. Ah, well, my dildo will have to do. Getting off with it was nice, but it was not the same as having sex with a guy. For a moment you thought about the pretty male lead in the drama. How nice it would be to run your hands over his face and body. Sadly, this was not very realistic. I will go on tinder on Monday.

“Is it too much to ask for a cute, caring boyfriend to have hot sex with?”

You groaned and looked at the ceiling as if that was where your fate would be decided. It did not answer.

“That’s your wish‽”

You almost jumped out of bed. The voice came from your right, the side of the bed that had just been empty. It was not anymore. The man blended into the white sheets with his white clothing. Your heart hammered in your chest.

“What the fuck?!” You shouted. “How did you get in here? Who are you? Get out!”

You backed away. There was no bed left behind you. You fell over backwards but did not hit the ground. Your hand was caught in an iron grip.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

The man pulled you back into the bed. It brought you close to him. He had long hair that was tied at the top of his head. Something you expected to see in a historical drama not in your bedroom. He had a stunningly beautiful face. Intense eyes, full lips and a sharp jawline.

Why are all hot guys psychos?

“Let go!”

“You will fall again.”

His voice was so gentle it made your heart skip a beat. It was familiar, like a deja vu. This was not someone you had met before, but it still seemed like you knew him. Get it together, the guy broke into your house, don’t be lulled in by his looks.

“How did you get in here?”

You did not know what to do. He held your wrists in his hands, but you backed away as far as possible. Was he going to do something to you?

“I followed you. Yesterday.”

He said it as if it was the normal thing in the world. You stared at him, open mouthed. He had been here since yesterday? Your blood turned to ice. His grip was still holding your wrists. If he had not you would have fallen out of bed now.

“You cleaned the altar so nicely it woke me up from my sleep. It’s been ages since anyone left an offering there.”

The altar. How did he know about that? There had been no one there aside from you.

“Let me go and leave.”

He stared into your eyes. Nothing was hidden from that stare. You wanted to look away but could not. As if hypnotized you stared into his eyes. They were not brown as you had assumed, but a very dark green, like the pine trees at night.

“That’s not what you wished for.”

He kissed one of your hands. His lips were soft but the gesture sent a shiver down your spine. Some part of you was responding to his touch while your higher reasoning was screaming to get away.

“Who are you?”

Your voice was only a whisper, but in the quiet room it was as loud as a scream. He looked at you, reading your face like a book. You did not know if it would be better to show your fear or hide it. What would make him leave?

“I am the mountain.”

He puffed out his chest a bit as he said that. The mountain. What kind of name was that? You had known everyone who had lived in your hometown and no one was called San. Maybe he was a tourist who happened to be in the forest? Then it struck you. The altar. The mountain, San. This man was not a man at all. He was the god of the mountain and you had brought him to your home. That’s what you get from being nice, an uninvited guest. Great.

“And I decided to grant your wish.”

You were not ready to process any new information, but here he was, talking. Was it even possible that this man was the god of the mountain? No one had seen you in the forest. You had been alone yesterday evening and just now when you had made breakfast, the door had still been locked. So unless he broke into your apartment just now… no, you had not heard or seen anything out of the ordinary.

“You doubt me.”

San was clearly disappointed in your lack of faith. He stared at you, waiting for you to explain yourself. You had every right to be suspicious of some random dude who claimed to be a god.

“Yes.”

He nodded slowly and looked around your bedroom. The little pout on his face made him look cuter and less scary, but he was still plenty scary. He let go of your hands and left the room. Maybe I should run for it. You sprang from the bed and in a few steps you were at the bedroom door. Where you almost ran into San. He was both taller and shorter than you had expected. Just like the mountain. His legs were longer than usual for someone his height.

“Here.”

In his hand was the basil plant you had bought a few days ago. It did not look too hot. The leaves had started to hang down and some were already crumpeling.

“Yeah, I should throw it out...”

San was appalled.

“But it’s still alive!! Look!”

He stared at the plant and it became healthy again. With your mouth open you stared at the plant. Its leaves were full and beautifully green again. The smell of basil filled the room.

“So you believe me now?”

The smug smile on his face was almost too much. You nodded reluctantly. San brought the plant back to the kitchen, while you sank down on the bed. There is a deity in my apartment. San sat down on the bed next to you.

“So, what was my wish?”

What dumb shit have I wished for? A smile so mischievous it made the hairs in your neck stand appeared on his face. He leaned closer and whispered in your ear:

“Hot sex.”

Oh fuck. The reason why you had gone to the Candy Shop had been to get something nice for you. It had been so long since you had been with someone. Sex with a good looking guy sounded so good. San was here and he was offering to give you what you wanted. But wait.

“Didn’t I say “a cute boyfriend”?”

San pursed his lips. “Technically, you did. ‘Cute and caring’”

“So, then where is my boyfriend?”

You pushed your jaw forward in a defiant manner. If you were going to get your wish, it had to be the right one. There was no way he could just make a guy appear out of thin air, could he?

“Am I not cute?”

The fake outrage in his voice was indeed cute, but hell would freeze over before you would admit that.

“What? Are you saying you will be my boyfriend?”

He stared at you and you stared back. It was totally absurd. San could not seriously mean he would be your boyfriend, right?

“Yes.”

You honestly did not have a comeback to that. San had said it like he meant it. I guess he didn’t have to make someone appear out of thin air after all. He is already here.

“Can I change my wish?”

You did not look at him, but you could feel his eyes on you. It had been a mistake, actually several mistakes. You should not have gone to the mountain, or cleaned the altar.

“Do you dislike me this much?”

San sounded almost hurt. What had he expected? That you would just lay down and spread your legs?

“You just showed up here, unannounced. What am I supposed to-“

You stopped yourself. Maybe it was not a good idea to yell a god. It was unclear what he could do besides making plants grow and looking good. San shifted beside you and when you looked at him, he lay on your bed.

“What can I do to make you more comfortable?”

He looked up at you. In that position, one arm probed up holding his head, he reminded you of the old timey rich people lounging on chairs.

“Why do you want to grant me a wish anyways?”

He hesitated. You had asked a sensitive question.

“I am in your debt.”

“Then make me rich and rest peacefully that you have settled your debt.”

You turned more towards him. He pressed his lips together into a thin line. You had to be careful now with your tone. One wrong word now could have bad consequences, so you just looked at him.

“I can’t do that.”

He pressed the words out and avoided your eyes. The fabric of the sheets was suddenly much more interesting. You wondered if he was telling the truth. Why was he insisting on this stupid wish you had made.

“What is in it for you? If you tell me honestly, I will consider it.”

His eyes flickered to your face before studying the sheets again.

“I can leave the mountain.”

He told the bed. “No one believes in me anymore...”

You wondered what the consequences of that were, but now was not the time to ask. So if he played house with you he could stay out here, instead of being alone in the forest. You were sick of being alone too. All the times you had felt lonely, may come to an end now, if you just said yes to San.

“If I said yes, what would happen?”

He tried to hide his relief, his hope, but failed. A smile appeared on his face. San sat up and his eyes sparkeled with delight and mischief.

“I would grant the more pressing part of your wish first.”

You wrinkled your brows. The more pressing part? He leaned closer and whispered in a velvety voice.

“You want to be licked, to ride on a big cock and be pounded until you come. That's the pressing part.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Yes, that was exactly what you wanted. In that order. He looked into your eyes. The more you looked at him the more beautiful he became. Just this once you did not want to overthink everything.

“So, what do you say?”

“What will happen after that?” You could feel his breath on your neck. His lips brushed over your skin. You swallowed audibly.

“I will do anything you want me to do.”

To make his point he kissed your neck. Gently sucking on the sensitive skin there. You move your head to grant him better access. His lips on you made your head spin already. Who would it be if they were somewhere else?

“Okay.”

You sighed and bit your lips. It was time to embrace this weird situation and be bold.

“Eat me out, San.”

He groaned against your skin, when you said his name. His lips landed on yours and he wasted no time. His tongue begged for entrance, sliding over your lips. You were not sure what you had expected, but you were surprised by how normal his mouth felt. San was warm and smelled of the forest after rain.

Your hands buried themselves in his long hair. You thought about untying it but it would be better to wait a bit longer. His Hands slipped under the hem of your pajama pants and between your legs. You gasped as his fingers touched your clit and slipped into you briefly.

“Apparently I will have to do a bit more to get you riled up, my love.”

San smirked at you and positioned himself between your legs. He made sure that he had your attention before he untied the fastings of his jacket. He did not wear anything under it so you had an unobscured view of his body; and what a nice body it was. The way his upper body tempered towards his waist was breathtaking. You wanted to touch him, ran your hands over his body. Right now was not the time though.

He pulled down your pants and kissed your thighs. San did not waste time and went straight to the point. He sucked and licked your clit, slowly circling it before flicking it with his tongue. You grabbed his hair and he smirked against your skin. His tongue moved down, ran around your entrance and dipped in briefly before moving up again. When he sucked your clit into his mouth, your moan quietly. You wanted to close your eyes and concentrate on the feeling of tongue flicking against you, but you also wanted to see him. He slowed the pace down and licked your clit. You felt his fingers circling your entrance before pushing in. The two fingers barely met any resistance and after a few more slow movements he pulled out.

He kissed the inside of your thighs and you groaned. That was not where you wanted his mouth to be.

“How about you ride me now?”

He looked up at you expectantly. If you did not know better, you would have thought he was giving you puppy eyes.

“You’re pretty eager.”

It was only half a joke. You raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I am.”

Damn. I guess the immortal god of the mountain is not so selfless after all.

“Lie down.”

He was about to take off the jacket but you stopped him.

“Keep it.”

The way it revealed his chest and abs without being completely shirtless looked very sexy. San lay down on his back and you straddled his hips. The tent in his pants made it very evident how much he wanted this. You ran your hands over his chest and loved how his skin felt. It still seemed surreal that he was there, in your bed. Like a dream. But it was not a dream. He felt as solid and real as one could get. You leaned down to kiss his neck. It was so graceful. This close to him you could see the faint freckles on neck, that made him even prettier. You lightly sucked on the spot midway down his neck. He sighed and goosebumps appeared on his soft skin. You looked at his face to see him looking back at you.

“You’re very pretty.”

There was a part you wanted to make a joke out of it a la “you need to get your eyes checked” but you didn’t. It did not sound like a joke.

“You too, Mr Mountain.”

He smiled at the nickname. His hair was not as neat as earlier. You had tucked on it, while he had eaten you out and now some parts of the hair stood out more. Not many hairs had come loose completely though.

“Can I untie your hair?”

He reached for the tie and released it. How could he look any more stunning? With his long hair spilling over the pillow. He smirked up at you. It was very annoying that San knew how much he affected you.

“Are you motivated enough to ride me now?”

Yes, you were very motivated now. You pulled down his pants. It was going to be very fast, judging by his girth. You aligned yourself above him and let yourself sink down on him. The stretch made you gasp. His hands came to rest on your hips. You could still move freely, so it felt like he needed something to hold on to. You gingerly rocked your hips and heard San sigh beneath you. His fingers pressed into your hips. Moving your hips was the only thing you wanted to do now. You felt so full and so close already. Maybe him between your legs earlier was the cause of that. You leaned back and the changed angle made him press against your g spot. Every move sent waves of pleasure through your body.

San sat up and looked into your eyes. A light blush had appeared on his face. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he closed the distance. The kiss made your heart flutter and clench around him. He kissed down your neck to your chest. Your hand flew to his hair when he took one nipple in his mouth. He sucked and circled it with his tongue.

“Say my name.”

It sounded like a plea. His mouth was on the other nipple now while his hand came up to continue. You moved your hips as much as possible with him sitting up. The light biting and twisting of the nipples send electric shocks to your core.

“Oh, San.”

It felt a bit odd to say that but San hummed against your chest, doubling his efforts. Your hand grabbed his hair tighter and you rock your hips fast. So close. He bit down a bit harder at just the right moment to make the wave of pleasure came crashing down. Without realizing it you muttered his name over and over.

A few more movements and your hips came to a hold. San wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. You sank against him and he held you. Your breathing calmed down as you enjoyed being held. He was still inside you and it felt so intimate that you wanted to lighten the mood with humor.

“So, am I going to birth a tree now?”

San chuckled and kissed your shoulder.

“That’s not how that works.”

You smiled against his shoulder as his hands rubbed your back.

After a quick shower, you and San returned to your bedroom. You put on a t-shirt and sweatpants. San lay on the bed waiting for you. When you looked he spread his arms, waiting for you to fall into his arms. You could not help yourself but smile. He really was cute. You sank into his arms and he kissed the top of your head.

“What you wanna do now?”

You asked his chest. It was nice and warm in his arms. Would it be rude to fall asleep now? Your eyelids felt so heavy, it was hard to keep them open. You were not sure if he ever answered because you drifted off to sleep so fast.

And that is how you got yourself a boyfriend that had been a minor god for some time. The plants in your house never withered and from time to time you would visit your town. The altar was still there, in the middle of the forest, slowly being assimilated by nature, but San always went back to the city with you.

For that one person who forgot, 'San' literally means mountain in Korean XD

I'm willing to write some more episodes in this universe, so if you have a request (idk San meeting your friends for the first time or something like this), send me an ask :))

[mlm-writer]

Hero of the Swamp (Shrek x Jaskier)

Edit by me 

Pairing: Shrek x Netflix!Jaskier (Julian Alfred Pankratz/Dandelion) Rating: Explicit Words: 2893 POV: Third Summary: After being left on the mountain, Jaskier finds himself lost in the swamp and in need of warmth and comfort. Note: Y’all can thank @spielzeugkaiser​ and their amazing art for this. Sorry for the sloppy edit, but I really was not going to put even more time into this sinful work.  Tags: I’ve been a bad boy daddy forgive me father fore I have sinned, pre-movies Shrek, post-mountain Jaskier, angst, fluff, Shrek’s huge dong, size kink, cum shower, monster cock, blowjobs, rimming, cum eating and Shrek has emotions ok 

The growls of monsters lurking in the forest rolled over the muddy forest grounds and reached Jaskier’s icy ears. He shivered in both terror and response to the temperature. He told himself he could get off that mountain on his own, but who was he kidding? His frigid ears caught something in the dark. The bard bolted off the path, then later found himself in the middle of nowhere, chilled to the bone, disoriented, and, to be honest, frightened. 

He was looking for a path, but even that seemed to not be present anywhere in the vicinity. Jaskier rubbed his trembling hands together and walked on. Jaskier thought he should at last find some shelter from the wind. Just as he was about to settle for a random tree, he noticed light in the distance, warm like fire, inviting him and promising warmth and shelter. 

The fatigued bard all but ran towards it, the signs around the perimeter unnoticed in the dark. His boots sunk into the mud of the swamp, but he had his eyes set on the house-like structure in the middle of the swamp. He could not believe anyone wanted to live in this stinky place, but right now this someone was about to be his saviour. Once at what he assumed to be the door, he knocked on it. When there was no answer he knocked again. There were some angry, heavy footsteps, before the door opened. 

Before him stood a massive humanoid, skin green like peas, frame built like Geralt who preferred cake over his nasty potions. “Eh, good evening, sir,” Jaskier tried. If it was living in a house, it must be intelligent to some extent… right? “Could you please spare some place for a weary traveller?” The green creature did not look nice, even without its facial expressions. Some tension left its body after the question. Jaskier recognised it as a hint of confusion. “I’m afraid I’ll freeze to death if I don’t warm myself by a fire.” 

“No, get out of my swamp,” the creature spoke. It sounded like it was from Skellige. It was about to retreat into its home, but Jaskier put his foot between the door.

“Please, I’ll die out here,” he spoke dramatically, hoping for pity so he’d have a roof over his head tonight. He was not sure if he should try his luck with this creature, but at least it could speak. Wraiths had said less words, before trying to slice him. 

“Not my problem. Get out of my swamp. The only way you get close to my fire is when I roast you over it.” “Oh please, you don’t mean that.”

Jaskier had barely finished speaking, when the green man grabbed him by his doublet and pulled him close. His breath stank of swamp water and fish. His mouth was wide and Jaskier was pretty sure he would fit inside there. The bard felt like he should be terrified, but underneath a thin layer of leather and cloth, there was warmth radiating off pear skin. He wanted to lean into it, thaw. What inhibited his survival skills further, where those eyes glaring into his. Under bushy eyebrows rested two brown pools of warm broth. He heard the green man roar into his face that he needed to leave, because he was an ogre and he was going to eat him, but it was hard to believe him. 

Within those eyes that were so close to his, the ogre told the story of a creature that wanted to be alone, because alone was safe, alone was comfortable, alone was all he was used to. Jaskier never knew that, but after today, he understood why one would think that. 

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.”

It stung, more than anything had caused him to ache in ages. Jaskier could feel the urge to never make friends again, never love again, never lust after one he could not have. However, he refused. It was pain that made life worth living. Without pain, bliss did not feel as good as it did. The rain made sunlight so much more appreciated. The cold made fire so much more precious. The monsters made the witcher so much more valuable.

The human knew this, but the ogre holding him up by his doublet did not. Jaskier had wished for pity, but he pitied the other now. He clumsily threw his arms around the ogre and hugged him tightly. The ogre stopped yelling at him. Jaskier could feel the muscles against his body tensing up. The hand holding him loosened and he threw his legs around the ogre too, holding on and hugging him tightly. “You don’t have to be alone. I don’t fear you,” Jaskier spoke gently. 

“I am an ogre.” “And if you were really malicious I would not still be breathing. Please, just for one night. There are all sorts of dangers out in these swamps, especially at night. I just want to stay alive.” 

Jaskier could hear the ogre letting out a long sigh. “Fine,” he spoke, “but you have to be gone tomorrow.” Jaskier let him go, but not after planting a delighted kiss on the rough skin of the ogre’s cheek. 

“Thank you so much,” the bard exclaimed. He slipped inside, before the ogre could change his mind. The inside of the hollowed out tree looked cozy. It stank like hell, but he was in the middle of the swamp; what did he expect? “Do you like music? I have little to give you, but I am a bard.” Jaskier held up his lute as he grabbed the chair that had no food in front of it. One look at the giant slug on a plate and he was pretty sure he did not want to have any food. Jaskier pulled the chair a little closer to the fire and sat down with his lute in his lap. It seemed rather strange that there were two hand-crafted chairs, while the ogre seemed to be so keen on being alone. “Oh and you can call me Jaskier, by the by. What may I call you, my hero from the swamp?”

The ogre looked at him a little annoyed as he closed the door and sat back down to finish his dinner. “Uh… Shrek. You can play, but don’t sing.” Jaskier let the name roll off his tongue, before playing a calming tune. He didn’t speak, just let his fingers do their thing as he processed all that happened during the day, well it was actually more just those few minutes that haunted his mind. Each one of Geralt’s words cutting into his soul. “Eh… Jaskier?” Jaskier was pulled from his thoughts when Shrek spoke his name. He shook his head, before looking at Shrek. “You don't seem to be… you… you seem sad, well, what I mean is… I never heard such a depressing tune.”

Jaskier faked a smile. “My apologies, good sir. I’ll play you a happier tune, if you wish.” He diverted his eyes to the fingerboard, blinking away the tears he suddenly noticed pooling in his eyes. 

“No, you don’t have to. I prefer silence, anyway.” Jaskier looked up and noticed Shrek had finished eating. He stood up and started cleaning up. “You can sleep on my good chair.” Jaskier followed the ogre’s gaze to the fauteuil in the corner. He nodded. It looked comfortable enough. He had slept on forest floors with Geralt. This was more luxury than a regular day with the witcher. 

Shrek had some board and card games, which he seemed to enjoy to play. Jaskier wondered if Shrek usually played these games on his own or if he hosted guests more often. Neither seemed likely, since the games seemed to have gone untouched for at least a decade, if not longer. They shared a few laughs. Shrek turned out to be more fun company than Jaskier would ever have expected from an ogre. His jokes were terrible and sometimes a little insensitive, but he so clearly meant well. It was clear Shrek was not used to talking or any social interactions. He spoke like a young man still trying to figure out what was socially acceptable to say and what was not. Still, he was trying and Jaskier welcomes the vivid chatting. 

When they got tired, Jaskier curled up on the comfortable fauteuil by the fire. Shrek had draped a shirt of his over the human. It stank and was dirty, but it was warm and Jaskier was still low key afraid of getting kicked out to sleep in the mud, so he didn’t voice a single word of complaint. In the silence of the night with no one to talk to, words that were already spoken returned to his mind. Jaskier tried to block them out, but they bit at his brain, keeping him awake and drawing tears from his eyes. He curled further in on himself, trying to stay quiet as he sobbed into his hands. It just hurt so much to be discarded like he was nothing but a nuisance. Was that all he was? He was sure his songs brought joy in taverns, but right now the unlikely and unrealistic idea that everyone just pretended to have a good time was so overwhelming. 

The bard flinched when he felt a huge hand on his shoulder and arm. He looked up to find Shrek hanging over him in nothing but his smalls. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the ogre clearly wasn’t good with words. “I’m fine, Shrek,” Jaskier lied as he wiped the tears off his face, “I’ll just find the nearest town tomorrow and fuck the pain away.” The words had already left him, when he realised how that might sound. “And I’ll do that tomorrow, not because I think you’re hideous, quite the contrary, you might be the most handsome ogre to ever exist, but I just assumed you would not be interested in having sex with a human… male. Human male, doesn’t seem your taste, but it could be, I wouldn’t judge you. How could I? You’ve been a most generous host! I…” 

Jaskier almost suffocated as Shrek’s palm covered the entirety of his face. He got the hint and just shut up. Shrek slowly let go of his face, allowing him to breathe again. Jaskier looked away, cheeks red. He was blabbering nonsense to an ogre who preferred peace and quiet. He guessed it was time to sleep in the mud outside, however, Shrek wasn’t yelling at him… yet. 

“So you just have sex and that helps you feel better?” Jaskier nodded slowly. “I wouldn’t mind helping you feel better. It is not like I have had lassies lining up in the swamp… or lads.” He laughed a little awkwardly, making Jaskier laugh too. He took hold of one of Shrek’s huge fingers with two of his, by comparison, tiny hands. 

“Oh Shrek, you are such a wonderful host. You really do not have to do this though. I will still want to visit you again, even when you don’t want to fuck my brains out, just so I don’t have to think about some brutish asshole.” Shrek gave him a long look, before enclosing his hand around Jaskier’s waist and lifting him off the fauteuil. 

“It’s not just for you. It’s for me too.” And Jaskier wanted to read into those words, figure out the ogre with complicated feelings, but he had no willpower to. Shrek’s bed was firm, almost hard like a plank. It smelled like him, like onions and mud and firewood. Shrek tried to undress him, but his huge fingers couldn’t get a grip on Jaskier’s complex clothing. Jaskier smiled kindly at him, helping him without even needing to look at any button. “Can I kiss you?” Jaskier didn’t even reply. Instead he pulled Shrek’s head down. It was an awkward kiss. Shrek’s mouth was way too big and neither of them were very coordinated in the moment. 

When his clothes were mostly off and Jaskier was left in his smalls, Shrek kissed down his body, his huge tongue lapping at his skin and Jaskier could hear him enjoy the taste. He hummed to signal his pleasure, letting the ogre go about his business. Shrek pulled off his smalls and to Jaskier’s complete surprise, the ogre took his cock in his mouth. Jaskier whimpered, hands grabbing the sheets. Everything about Shrek was big, including his mouth. Even when the ogre sucked him to full hardness, Jaskier still didn’t feel the back of the ogre’s throat. Shrek sucked in his balls at well and Jaskier almost cried from the pleasure of having his cock and balls inside a warm mouth.  

When Shrek let Jaskier go, his length was hard, red and leaking. Jaskier barely had time to recover, before he felt that glorious tongue on him again, this time licking over his hole. Whispered pleas left his lips as he imagined that tongue inside of him. Then a thought crossed his mind. If everything about Shrek was big, what about his dick? Jaskier had seen the ogre’s hands and one finger was already bigger than the average cock. While he normally was down to go big, the imaginable size of Shrek’s dong low key terrified him.

His mind had no opportunity to freak him out completely, because Shrek’s tongue entered him and the feeling was so, so good. Jaskier moaned as big green hands spread his cheeks and thick wetness penetrated him. “Ah… ah Shrek I hate to be a uh… fuck!” The bard trashed his arms around when his new found friend started to stroke his cock at the same time. “I’m gonna cum! Way too soon, I know! Sto..aahh...” His whole body tensed as he spilled all over himself. Shrek was unrelenting. As the bard’s cock was spent, he still had his tongue inside him, pressing at the right places and wiggling around so talentedly. “Stop, stop, stop, it’s too much, really, too much.” 

Jaskier was out of breath, head fuzzy with post-orgasmic bliss. His whole brain short-circuited as Shrek’s tongue licked over his torso, cleaning him off all the cum he had spilled over himself. “Are you all right?” The green-skinned sex machine inquired with innocent eyes that did not match the absolute tent in his smalls. 

“Say, Shrek, will I die if I swallow ogre cum?” Jaskier almost laughed at Shrek’s expression. It was a ‘yes, no, maybe’. “Ok fine, but I will suck you off still.” The human pushed at the ogre, cornering the larger frame against the opposite wall, before getting on his knees. 

“With all due respect, Jask, I don’t think you can fit me anywhere.” Jaskier didn’t listen, pulling down Sherk’s white smalls in spite of knowing the ogre was probably right. As soon as 12 inch of green cock basically slapped him in the face, Jaskier knew he was in way over his head. Still, he was confident that if he tried, he could still fit the head inside his mouth. With Shrek still assuring him he did not have to do this, Jaskier started licking all over Shrek’s length. The taste was not as bad as he feared. In fact, the more he licked, the more he started to like it. Jaskier made out with the head of Shrek’s cock, fucking the slit with his tongue. Shrek was holding his shoulder, occasionally squeezing a little as he moaned. And oh were those delicious moans, primal, guttural, deep and vibrating through Jaskier’s entire body. 

The human tried many times, but he couldn’t slip the monster cock inside his mouth. He was resilient though and kept trying, while stroking the rest of the green length. He was so caught up in his quest that he didn’t hear Shrek telling him how close he was. He made a disappointed sound as he was forcibly removed from the cock in his mouth. Jaskier crawled back up the bed and stretched out his body. “Cum on me,” he wantonly moaned and Shrek did not disappoint. Jaskier had to close his eyes and mouth as he got showered in thick, beige cum. He never had felt this dirty, but it was a good kind. He wished he could have taken Shrek in his ass. He could’ve been so full. 

Once Shrek had stopped groaning, Jaskier dared to open his eyes. He could see guilt already spreading over Shrek’s face. He must have been a sight, so much smaller than Shrek and absolutely drenched in his cum. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve always fantasised about being showered in cum. Just never thought that all that cum would come from a single person.” 

Shrek let out a relieved sigh and helped him wipe some cum off his face so it wouldn’t get into his mouth or eyes. “I’ll prepare you a bath,” he spoke gently, surprising Jaskier with the thoughtfulness. His eyes followed the ogre as he put his breeches on and moved out to probably get some fresh water. A laugh escaped Jaskier as he stared at the sticky substance covering his skin. Who would’ve thought that the swamp could’ve been so pleasant? 

[drabbles-of-writing]

my head is pounding (I can't stop the pounding)

This is part of my Four Years AU

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“They say you travel dimensions,” Luz said, gazing up at the man, flickers of hope in her eyes. “Is it true?”

“My dear, of course it is!” The man chortled, a tall demon of sorts covered in fur, with a mane like a lion around his neck. “Interested in learning my ways, are you?”

“Very much, sir.” Luz nodded, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m looking to find a way to the human realm. I got separated from my mom, and she’s got to be worried sick about me by now.” 

“I see, I see.” The man hummed, digging around in his pockets. “Yes, I believe I can help you. Come with me,” He said, withdrawing a card with his name on it and handing it to her. “Are your friends interested, as well?” He asked, peering over her shoulder towards the witches poking around at the knickknacks and items around in his shop.

“They’re here to help me find a way to the human realm,” Luz explained, swelling, just a bit, with pleading in her eyes. “We’ll take as much as you can offer.”

“That,” The man said, eyes flickering to the wanted poster sporting a crude drawing of a figure dressed in a purple and white cloak, an owl mask covering her face. “My dear, depends on how much you are offering.”

The building rippled like water, the scene smearing like wet paint. In the blink of an eye, the scene changed to inside a tent, Luz holding a potion bottle in her hand and peering at the murky, brownish green contents within. The man spoke words that meshed together like gibberish, as though his words had been forgotten, as he gestured towards gadgets with springs sticking out of them.

Luz quietly watched, clearly not listening to a word he was saying. Her face was blank, the faint traces of weary hope gone, like they’d never existed at all. Her shoulders were slumped, and she glanced at the potion in her hands before shaking her head and sighing.

“You’re not real,” She muttered, eyes downcast.

“Come again?” The man startled.

“You’ve never been to a dimension outside your own, have you?” Luz said, raising her head. 

“What in the nine realms are you--”

“Nine realms?” Luz snorted bitterly, shaking the potion in her hand. “You really commit to the bit, don’t you?”

The scene rippled again. The two were still inside the tent, but the man had moved. There were tables covered with cloth now. He had a table between him and Luz, who was still holding the potion.

“I’m very busy,” He gruffed. “And I can’t afford to convince you of what's right before your eyes--”

“This isn’t even a potion,” Luz said, raising the ‘potion’ in the air before letting it drop, watching it dully as it cracked on the ground and the contents spilled out. Muddy swamp water, by the looks of it. “I would know. I’m practically surrounded by them.”

“Honestly,” The man scoffed, eyes darting around. “Do you want my help, or not? I assure you, it’s an arduous journey, but I could accomplish it, I believe you could, too.”

“I wanted your help when I thought you had the faintest idea of what you were doing,” Luz huffed, eyes half-lidded in annoyance as she kicked the fake potion aside. 

The tent flickered, like an old tape with a scratch on it. Luz was on the other side of the tent now. The man was closer, one hand in his pocket.

“--vious really.” Luz’s voice faded back in.

“Well,” The man said, rearing back, his mane puffing up. “If you're so insistent that I am a fake, why are you still here?” He said, nose turned up.

“Because I told Gus to find me if you took longer than ten minutes, because Eda was worried you might try to jump me.” Luz said simply. “And it’s been fifteen, and he’s never later than two minutes. Which I’m willing to guess means you either tipped off someone, or you set traps. It was the biggest among my many lists of clues that you don’t give a damn about this whole thing.”

The man growled, looking around wildly as his fur continued to puff up. It would’ve been pretty amusing if Luz was in any other situation.

“I have been searching,” Luz started slowly pressing a hand against her face. “For five days straight trying to find you. And the last two people I met before you tried to feed me to a pit or get me in on their murder clan when they found out who I was.” She moved her fingers aside to free an eye, sending a seething glare.

“And you knew why I was trying to find a portal out of here,” She continued. “You knew I was trying to find my mother, and you insisted you had the answer. Why? Honestly, dude, why?” She threw her arms out in a wide gesture. “What do you gain out of this? Do you get a kick out of leading on grieving people? Cause you need to see someone for that.”

“Everyones trying to make a living, and I’m just making mine.” The man hissed, withdrawing his hand from his pocket, fist clenched. “You know how it is.”

“I’m trying to go home,” Luz spat, the seething in her gaze bordering on barely restrained fury. “And yet I’m standing here, wasting my time on the excuses you're throwing at me. So, no, I don’t--”

A tear tore through the scene, sections of the tent smeared over and blurred, forgotten. Words combined and mumbled like they were talking under water. Luz had her hood up now, turning away with some inaudible, but clearly harsh, words spitting out.

The man unclenched his fist, revealing a retractable blade that he switched upright. He hissed and held it tightly in his grip, crouching for just a moment, enough for Luz to give a bored glare back, before charging her.

In that same moment, a small, furry demon leapt out from under the cloth-covered tables, latching his teeth and claws into the man's leg.

“King!” Luz exclaimed, jerking back as soon as the man charged her.

The man howled, a distorted sound, kicking out his leg as he stumbled and tried to shake off the demon clinging in like a burr, drawing blood as he growled and kicked. 

Eventually, the man just slammed his leg against the closest table, King squawking as he was hit straight on and falling to the ground with a wheeze, curling into a ball.

The man had barely turned to resume his attack before a pillar of ice hit him square in the face. He fell as vines wrapped around his limbs, pinning him to the ground as he struggled. Luz shoved the glyphs she didn’t use back into her pockets before rushing to King, scooping him up into her arms. He raised his head slightly, giving an affirmation he was fine, just winded, and Luz relaxed ever so slightly.

“Emperor’s Coven showed up,” King explained with a wheeze, waving off Luz when she tried to fret over him. “They’re fine, keeping ‘em at bay outside.” He said, tilting his head in the direction of the exit to the tent. “I just thought that, you know, you might be in trouble.”

“And what a brave demon you were,” Luz agreed, smiling down at him as King perked up under the praise.

Smoke flickered over the top of the tent for a moment, like a tape had skipped a scene, before returning to normal.

“You’d do best to stick to what you know!” The man snapped from where he writhed on the ground, managing not to wilt under Luz and King whirling to glare at him. 

“Spreading that wild magic of yours to the human realm won’t do any good.” The man continued, hatred spilling off him in waves. “The Emperor didn’t take kindly to an Owlet like you, why would the human realm be any different?”

“It’s not,” Luz agreed, withdrawing a fire glyph and holding King closer to her with her other arm. “But my mom is.”

With that, she tapped the glyph with her thumb and let it fall to the ground. It burned away at the plants, momentarily singeing the man's limbs tied down. He yelped and sprung free when he could, staring with wide eyes when the fire quickly spread to the cloth across the tables of fake items, catching ablaze near instantly, like frames had been passed over to allow a smooth transition.

King stared wide-eyed, looking between the growing flames and the cold, hardened fury on Luz’s face. He shrunk back in her arms, though she didn’t seem to notice. With that, she turned sharply on her heel and left, storming out through the tent flaps as it, too, caught ablaze the second she touched it, glitching as it did so.

The scene itself was wrapped up in the inferno the moment Luz left it, flames cackling as they grew and spread and consumed everything it touched. 

There was soon nothing but the roaring of the fire, the blinding smoke, the rippling of the world, and a golden eye blinking into existence behind the bonfire.

,

“Luz?”

She shot upright with a start, breathing heavily as she gasped and tugged at the sheets, staring at the far corner of her room. King jerked away from her old mattress she called a bed, head lowered and eyes wide, claws fiddling together.

“Sorry, sorry,” King said quickly, tucking his tail around his legs like a scolded cat. “I...is this a bad time? Should-should I get Eda…?”

“Huh?” Luz said dumbly, voice sounding hoarse as she turned to stare down at King, her body feeling weighted and numb.

“You, um…” King pointed to the side of his face, right under his eye.

Luz felt at her face, feeling instantly that she’d been crying. She quickly wiped at her eyes, breath raggedy as she tried to dry her face.

“Is...is it an episode?” King asked quietly. “Should I leave? I don’t want to--”

“No, no, it’s--” Luz sniffled, hating how her voice sounded and shaking her head, dropping her arm. “It's fine. Small one, mostly just...just a dream, really.” She said, cringing at how slow her movements felt as she leaned back against the wall her bed was pushed beside, attempting to shake off how it felt she was under an ocean.

“Oh...okay.” King said, staying right where he was, claws clinging to the edge of the bed as he looked away.

Luz closed her eyes in the ensuing silence, attempting to banish the memories from her head. It had been just a few days ago, and they’d finally made it back to the Owl House after all their walking and dodging the Coven only yesterday. Everything in between was a little hard for her to remember now that she thought about it. Probably for the best.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Luz eventually asked when her head didn’t quite feel like it was going to roll off her shoulders.

“No, I just...wanted to visit.” King mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

Luz exhaled, forcing herself to bite back the desire to bury herself in her blankets and never see the light of day again, opening her arms slightly with a small, half crooked smile.

King noticed the invitation and took it instantly, scrambling up onto the bed and scurrying into her arms. He curled in her lap as she pulled him close, leaning her chin on the top of his head and exhaling heavily, only by force of will not slumping over and crushing him. 

They stayed like that for a bit, waiting in the silence as Luz calmed herself down, clutching King tightly. If King was uncomfortable or had trouble breathing, he gave no indication. He stayed perfectly still and loose as Luz’s raspy breathing slowly calmed to something more manageable. It was late, but only just past dusk. The soft sounds of others in the house moving and talking softly on the floor below them could be heard if you strained your hearing.

“What brings you in here?” Luz finally asked, straightening her back a bit and squinting an eye, realizing King left the door open a crack and a sliver of light was seeping into the dark room.

King shrugged, a little comical considering Luz had wrapped her arms around his midsection like he was a teddy bear, his arms forced up a bit.

“Wanted to visit,” He repeated.

Luz didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t push, slumping back against the wall and crossing her legs as she situated King in her lap. She knew King would break and tell her if she left it be for a moment. Sometimes he needed a moment to get his thoughts in order.

“Back when,” King paused again and Luz didn’t move, waiting patiently until he spoke again. “When you were talking with that demon guy…”

Luz looked down at him again, only able to see the back of his head and horns from this angle. He didn’t attempt to turn around and she didn’t do it herself.

“Your mom,” He tried a second time. “If we…” King stopped when Luz tensed, ever so slightly. He kept quiet for a moment before tilting his head back, still not enough for Luz to see his face. “When we find her,” He started again. “What’s...the plan after that?”

“What?” Luz blinked in confusion, loosening her hold on King to let him sit more comfortably in his lap.

“It’s just…” King said, turning halfway now that Luz could see his worried, contemplative face. “You always talk about how much you want to get back to your mom, because she must be worried sick about you, but...what are you gonna do after you find her?”

“...apologize for the next decade?” Luz tried, raising a brow in confusion. “Be grounded for the rest of my life?”

“I mean, just,” King struggled for another moment, leaning back against her leg and glaring up at the ceiling. “What...what are you gonna do when you're home again?” He asked quietly. “Is your mom coming to the Boiling Isles?”

“Oh, definitely not.” Luz snorted, shaking her head, not noticing his sudden reclusion. “My mom would freak out at this place. No, she’s a human realm type of human.”

“Then...are you staying with her?” King asked, drawing his limbs close to his body.

Luz watched him then, surprise evident on her face. King wasn’t looking at her, only the ceiling. He was already pretty small, but now he looked as though he was trying to make himself shrink even more.

“Course not,” Luz said softly, pulling King closer to her chest. “I love my mami, but the human realm isn’t for me. Never really has, if I’m being honest.”

“But you said your mom wouldn’t stay here,” King frowned, looking up at her now. “Are you going to stay separate again?”

“Well, no, that’s not,” Luz pursed her lips, frowning as she glanced to the side. “We...we’ll work something out. Maybe I could visit. Or...you know, it’ll depend on the portal, so we’ll have to see.” She decided on. “She’ll have to watch the tapes first.”

“So you don’t know, then?” King said simply, as if he was discussing common knowledge.

“I know I just...need to work out finer details.” Luz insisted. “Look, it’s fine, really. I’m not going anywhere.” She assured, drawing him up and giving a quick hug. “And I’m sure my mami would understand. I’m sure she remembers how crazy I was, this shouldn’t be that big of a surprise.”

She didn’t sound too convinced herself. King frowned, hooking his claws into her shirt and thus keeping her from pulling him away. He used his new leverage to give her a serious, no-nonsense expression that was honestly pretty cute on him. His nose almost touched hers.

“But don’t you miss it?” King asked, tilting his head. “I mean, you’re always talking about how different the human realm is from here and...how safer it is, really.” His eyes strayed, only for a moment, towards the edges of a scar that poked out of the collar of her shirt, one that he knew stretched far further along her arm and body like an angry, tangled thicket.

“I mean, nothings trying to kill you the moment you step outside, yeah, but the human realm isn’t perfect.” Luz said with a shrug. “If I’m being completely honest, if my mami wasn’t there, I don’t think I’d ever be trying to go back.” She said, sounding only slightly surprised at her revelation. 

“But it's your home, isn’t it?” King insisted. 

“My home,” Luz said, booping his nose as she sat him down on her crossed legs, taking a moment to pull his claws off her shirt. “Is where I decide it is. And it’s not there.” She said, giving him a small, soft smile. “But my mom is part of what I consider home, and I won’t be home until I find her. Does that make sense?” She asked, head turned.

“I...think so.” King said with a frown.

“Hey, at the end of the day,” Luz said, scratching at the fur just under his skull, the demon leaning into it. “Just know that, no matter how much the Emperor tries otherwise, you guys are stuck with me, okay? Getting back to my mom won’t change that.”

King curled closer to her hand, still appearing a little doubtful, but far more reassured than earlier. Luz giggled as she used her other hand to scratch at his side, the demon kicking out his back leg happily.

“And, who knows,” Luz continued. “Maybe we’ll find your dad, too. Ask him a few questions, figure things out with him.”

“He probably wouldn’t care,” King sighed, deflating a bit and going limp in Luz’s lap. “You’ve at least got memories of your mom. I don’t have any.”

“Then he’s missing out,” Luz said, swooping down to hug the demon and giggle at his squirming. “His loss, really. I’ll be sure to tell him that if we ever meet him.”

“Even if he looks as big and terrifying as his mural?” King asked, moving his head just slightly.

“Even if he looks scarier than his mural.” Luz said with a very serious nod.

“Alright,” King said with a tsk, shaking his head. “But I’m not responsible if you get stepped on.”

“That’s fair,” 

The two smiled at each other, chuckling quietly as Luz turned and flopped back on her bed, jolting King before he crawled up and curled into a ball on her stomach. Luz smiled up at the ceiling, stroking a hand down his back. King nuzzled her hand, yawning as he shut his eyes, wrapping his small claws around her fingers.

She turned her head to the side, off towards the bundle of items she stashed at the other end of her room. Her eyes locked on the box of tapes under a pile of clothes, the words FOR MOM written as large as possible on the side in sharpie. Her smile fell, and she looked away from the box, face pinched.

“I hope your mom likes us,” King mumbled sleepily. “It won’t change anything if she doesn't, right?” He cracked open an eye, the yellow and purple glow looking eerie as he gazed at Luz.

“She’ll like you,” Luz assured quickly, forgoing answering his second question as she stroked her other hand over his skull and down his back. King shut his eyes again and purred in response, tail wagging. “She’ll like you.” She repeated, quieter, gently squeezing her fingers around King’s claws.

She didn’t speak after that. She did, however, tighten her hold on his back with her other hand, like she was afraid he’d get ripped out of her hands from a simple gust of wind. If she was squeezing him too tightly, he didn’t say anything.

[strawberrystarcake]

where monsters lurk

my story for the dec 1-15 a million possible outcomes prompt! i took many creative liberties with this one and i'm not sorry at all! @chaotic-queer-disaster

I was born and raised in a town that has no name.

No one knows exactly why. Some people say that the mainland doesn’t know we exist. Others say that we were a people of mistakes, and the sooner we’re eradicated from the earth the better. Still others say that we don’t exist.

(No, only one madman said that. He died ten years ago, by drowning himself in the lake. I was nine, and the last one he spoke to. He told me that I should run. I didn’t. Perhaps that was my biggest mistake.)

Personally, I think it’s because no one wants to curse an innocent word by association with us.

I grew up hungry. Most of the people in my town with no name did. My mother grew up hungry, and my father, and their parents before them. The town’s foundation is more ice than land. We can’t grow anything, and squirrels dying of hypothermia and pinecones aren’t proper sustenance. Everyone in town is pale as death.

There’s not much else to say about the town. The ground is white, perpetually, or else a pale sickly brown after a rare rain shower, when the snow becomes a muddy slush. It never stays that way, though, because it always freezes over before a day can pass. The sunlight here is silver and the sky is never really empty of clouds.

Each house is made of pine wood, mostly because there’s nothing else. There are stone pathways that no one ever uses because they’re always buried under snowdrifts. There’s a bonfire in the middle of town that lends no heat but is kept running anyway. I think it’s to create the illusion of hope.

And then there’s the lake.

It’s not a very large one, resting about half a mile from the village border. It never freezes over. The water is drinkable, but drinking it isn’t allowed. There are shadows in the very bottom of the lake that move and dance and swim.

No one talks about the lake.

I mean it. Not even to scare children away from it- the children are scared of it anyway. The lake is a bit of a taboo, and it only ever comes up when a poor desperate soul tries to drink from it. They’re locked in a pinewood dungeon for a week and they never come out quite the same.

The madman was in the dungeon the most, perhaps because he was mad. Or maybe he was mad because he was in the dungeon the most.

I’ve only been in the dungeon once- when I was five years old. I don’t remember it very well- only how I was thirsty and the lake was right there and how apparently, that rule applies to kids too. My parents don’t like to talk about it and neither do my neighbors. My older brother occasionally brings it up to tell me how unfair it was. He’s been in the dungeon eleven times, although I’ve never seen him try. I guess he would know.

My earliest and clearest memory was the madman, and he would go on to feature in countless memories after. I liked him, although I don’t remember his name and all he ever really did was rave.

I was eight years old, and he brought me to the lake and pointed to the swimming shadows, telling me in a low whisper that monsters live underneath the surface of the water. He told me that he drank so much of the lake because when he died, he wanted to join them. I didn’t understand- why would you ever want to be a monster?

I remember asking my mother about it, after, and she’d clutched me close and told me that the madman was different, and that I should never listen to anything he said. For my own good, of course.

I remember talking to the madman anyway, almost every day until he died. He was always at the lake, or in the dungeon, and I found myself wandering to the lake every day just in case he was there. He never had anything interesting to say to me after the first few times. I went anyway.

I believe my parents only realized that I was disobeying them after he died, when I stopped going out for a while and they pieced together that my daily trips out were to speak to him- of course they were. Who would go out for no reason, in a village such as mine?

They never said anything. I wonder why, sometimes, then I shake the thought away lest I tempt fate.

You must have grown tired of my ramblings by now- don’t worry. I have only one more story left, and like each one of them, it starts and ends at the lake.

I hadn’t been there since the day the madman died. It was the first time in my life I’ve actively tried to avoid it.

I had missed it.

I really shouldn’t have. It’s dangerous, and it’s not beautiful in any way. Bitterly cold, still water and long-dead fossils of reeds jutting out around the uneven shoreline. The water is empty except for the ever-moving shadows and I was sure if I could see their faces, they would be nightmarish, with multiple eyes and teeth sharper than icicles, mouth curled into a sneer.

But gods, I had missed it.

My feet were moving before I could stop them, stepping around the reeds and onto the shore strewn all over with deathly sharp pebbles. They pierced and prodded my boots and the only warmth I had felt all day comes from the blood pulsing under my skin, everywhere- my head throbbed and my vision swirled.

It wasn’t painful yet. If I went back and did it again, I have no doubt that it would hurt me like a dagger through the heart. But it didn’t hurt me then, only made me curious. I went closer, deeper, faster.

I managed to make it to the middle of the lake before the pain began.

It was all so very quick. The process was cold and sudden and nauseating as a blizzard, and I could only remember taking in a breath that stung like a hundred little needles on the way down- one breath, and my skin had turned blue and my muscles taut and aching.

And then I sunk.

Like a stone, I sunk deeper and deeper, farther than I thought the lake went. At some point the water became as silver as the sun and hotter than blood, or maybe it was just so cold it burned.

On the way down, I saw many things. Things of myth, divine animals that my words would never do justice no matter how hard I might try.

I saw a decomposing body; not of any creature I know of, or any creature that exists. The corpse of a woman with no legs and no arms, but wings and a fish-like tail. She sunk with me, for a while, then she opened her pearlescent eyes and swam swiftly away.

I saw an orchard. The trees were completely black and the fruit were golden, shaped like human hearts. A man was tending to them; an old, old man with a bent back and a face that looked entirely carved-on.

I saw a hundred icebergs the exact colour of blood, melting in the heat-cold and dyeing the water a morbid red.

And I saw a god. They were larger than life and the most disgusting creature I have ever seen. Their eyes were vibrant white and completely empty, and a halo of light floated above their head. They looked at me once and smiled.

I fell for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was only a few seconds. Maybe it was far longer. Years, maybe. But I couldn’t fall forever, and eventually I landed with a ripple on a floor of white, fine sand.

I looked up, and there he was.

The madman.

He looked happier than he ever had in our village with no name. His clothes were made of something that shimmered when he moved, and that looked impossibly soft. His beard had been combed and his long hear was woven with pearls.

He was surrounded by the shadows.

I was dumbfounded, to say the least. The shadows that I always imagined were creatures of mistake were really just…

Plain old humans, just like my friend. Humans all decked out in ethereal finery, but just humans.

Hundreds of questions hung on the tip of my tongue, but when I spoke first I did not voice a single one.

“You’re dead,” I told the madman instead.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve joined the shadows, as I always told you I would.”

“These aren’t the monsters you told me to watch out for. These are people.”

That was wrong. He never told me what the monsters looked like. He never liked people, either.

He thought for a moment. “Well,” he finally replied. “I never did understand the difference. People, monsters- we’re just the same, don’t you know?”

“Do you mean to say people are evil?” I asked.

“No, not exactly,” he frowned. “The monsters are not evil, and neither are people. We are creatures of mistake, but not of evil. I’m sure you understand. You were always a smart kid.”

I sat in silence for a little while. The madman is not the person I remembered him to be- is he a madman at all? He was right, after all. Perhaps the people back home are mad, perhaps I am mad, but not he. I can no longer call him a madman, but I do not know his name. Unlike our town, I know he must have had one.

He looks at me and smiles softly. “It’s time for you to go. Remember this and remember me, child.”

I didn’t want to leave.

As it turns out, I didn’t have a choice in the matter. Water surged into my lungs and I gasped desperately. The shadows, monsters, people- they cackled at me, all except the madman.

He just looked at me. He was smiling, but there was a horrible sad look in his eyes.

I was beginning to float up. I tried to reach for the madman, but my arms were like lead. I cried out for him- “Let me stay here! Please!”- to no avail, of course. The current snatched the words from my throat.

I was finally drowning.

The madman’s sad eyes did not leave me.

I wish I could have told him I was sorry. I wish I could have told him that I missed him. I wish I could have told him I understand. I wished a million things in a single moment, but wishing would do nothing.

“No one is born a monster,” he said. It was a goodbye and a warning all at once, and it was the last thing I heard before I fell from my world of distant saints and human monsters.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Glass Swords

Summary:  Tovar knew he had bad luck–it came with the curse the witch gave him on his thirteenth birthday. Trapped in a contract by a band of bloodthirsty noblemen who use Tovar for his skill with a sword, he has all but resigned himself to a life of servitude. But then a job shoves him into the path of a princess who almost makes him smile. (Cinderella!AU)

Pairing: Pero Tovar/F!Reader

Warnings: None really. I make an allusion to the events of the movie but you don’t have to have seen it to understand this. 

Word Count: 4.8k

(Banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites​)

Or you can read on Ao3!

Once upon a time, there was a boy who seemed to have remarkably good luck. He was born to a wealthy, aristocratic family, and being the firstborn and a son guaranteed him a title of his own. His horse always came first in races, his opponents were always making simple mistakes in duels. He always had the keen eye to find a forgotten bit of coin on the ground. His first shot always hit its make when he was hunting.

Yes, Pero Tovar was lucky.

Until his luck soured at the hands of a woods witch.

On his thirteenth birthday, on a hunt with his band of friends and loyal servants, he darted into the forest to call for the hunting dog that had gone after gods-knows-what instead of the fowl they’d been hoping for when they set out. Again and again he called for the hound with no luck.

“Your dog has ruined my garden,” came a sudden voice behind him.

Pero turned to see a woman, old and shrouded in tattered grey robes, emerging from the forest shadows. An answering howl soon followed and a muddied hound bounded up to him, remnants of flowers and trampled vegetables hanging from his panting mouth.

And Pero laughed. What else was he supposed to do?

“For too long I have been held at the whim of your family. They have forgotten the treaty they signed when they came here, building your castle on my land and promising that you would provide. That you would never forget. But you have. And then you laugh when my little source of happiness was trampled by a hound.” Words tumbled from her chapped lips in a language he did not recognize and soon felt as if a bucket of icy river water had been dropped over his head.

“What did you do?” He hissed, feeling himself shake like a scared deer.

“I have made sure the world treats you as it treats me.” Her weathered mouth stretched into a smile he could see beneath the cowl. “But I am not cruel. I only want you to learn a lesson. But your lot seem stubborn so I would not be surprised if it took you the rest of your life.” She stepped forward and pulled a blade from the folds of her robes and Pero took an instinctive step back.

Almost instantly, his heel caught on a root and he tumbled to the moss-covered ground, pain zig-zagging up his spine as he landed.

The witch only laughed and continued forward. She twisted the blade in her hand and she held it out to him. And it was not as if he could say no. Not now. The short sword was clear—like glass. As soon as his hand wrapped around the handle, he felt the cold stone form to his grip, imprinting itself to his touch.

“When you’ve pierced the heart of a princess with your glass sword, then and only then will the curse lift.”

“A-a-a princess?” Pero parroted, feeling his stomach drop.

But the witch was gone and all he had was the glass sword.

His bad luck made itself known when he collided with his sister as they both rounded corners and she tumbled down the stone stairs of their home. Sancha was fine, thankfully but Pero would never forget how the blood pooled around her head or the scream she let out as she fell.

That was his fault. He knew it would only get worse as time progressed. He would not endanger his family. And so, Pero left a short note for his mother and father, telling them that he would return once he’d earned his honor on his own. The note he left for his sister told the truth, apologize for her injuring asking for her forgiveness even though he knew he already had it. Sancha was too pure of heart to ever hold any anger.

He set out. At first, trying to find another witch to counteract the curse. Then, to healers who promised anything and everything for the right price. And then, little by little, his hope faded. For a moment, he did consider driving the short blade through the heart of a princess—any princess—to just be rid of the curse. So he could see his family again. So he could live without worrying about bridges, loose bricks, or roots—or the millions of other things that the witch had made unlucky.

But he couldn’t. And in desperation to stay fed, he took up work as a mercenary. Another unlucky decision. It had led him to far flung lands that would have been an adventure to rival any explorer—he had fought creatures from another world!—but he did not enjoy any of it (aside from a few fleeting moments). And he could kill people who were trying to kill him all the time. Pero was good at it, he found. But it did not necessarily give him much opportunity to even know any princesses or be able to pick them out of a crowd so he could…stab them.

His bad luck continued.

When he failed to return to his employers, a group of nefarious noblemen from some country he didn’t care to remember, with the Black Powder they had requested, there were consequences. And now he was stuck in a contract, unable to leave his ‘employment’ because a bottle of ink had spilled across the contract and blotted out a very telling bit of information. He could not leave unless they were all dead. And if he broke that contract, his life would be forfeit.

He never would have signed—obviously—if he had been able to read that line.

But it was done. He was trapped. His bad luck mostly did not endanger his life—and he was sure the witch made sure of that. It would be no fun if it killed him and he was able to rest in death. The closest he had come to death because of his luck was when an ornamental sword fell from its hold on the wall and nearly took his eye.

One of the noblemen who benefitted from his terrible contract said the scar made him look fearsome. But he said it with a curdled milk smirk that rolled Pero’s stomach. It wasn’t a compliment, he knew.

And now he was called in by his ‘employers’ to settle another job. He vaguely listened—something about needing the little kingdom’s valuable port for some trivial reason and the easiest way to acquire the port was for Pero to kill at least the king and his eldest son so the second-born son could become king. Apparently, the noblemen who were employing him had an agreement with the power hungry prince. Pero was sure there were more details but he did not care to commit them to memory. He knew how to kill and his timeline.

That was all that really mattered.

But first, he needed to scout through the dense forest surrounding the castle to find a way in.

He weaved between trees as he started toward the castle. The outer perimeter walls had been easily climbed without drawing attention and while the surrounding grounds were vast, they were not heavily patrolled. As he continued to close the distance to the dark stone of the castle, Pero started to believe that this might the easiest job his contract had ever permitted him. The one solace he had was still being able to learn languages easily so he was able to learn of this mostly-unattended part of the perimeter wall by listening at the nearest market.

The sound of a horse’s hooves on the drying leaves drew his attention, his head whipping to the side, to one of the few bits of sunlight that slipped through the thick trees overhead.

It was a woman—one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, if he was being truthful—sitting atop a horse. She was smiling up at the birds as they sang in the branches. She was dressed in a simple smock and her horse was unsaddled. She was probably a maid from the castle.

But that did not detract from how his throat tightened as he looked at her. She was, after all, beautiful. It was almost embarrassing how he didn’t even realize she had spotted him until it was too late.

“Hello, sir.” Her voice was kind on his ears and he was instantly wondering if she would speak again.

“Hello, my lady.”

“Are you lost? It is not often I see strangers in the kingswood.” She nudged her horse toward him, uncaring of the danger strangers often present. Or maybe she was unknowing. There was a certain sweetness to her that Pero knew could not be feigned.

“I am hunting, my lady. I hope I did not disturb you.”

She shook her head. “I was not aware the king was having a hunting party today. I hope I did not scare away your prey.”

“No, my lady. I have just lost the rest of our party. Do you work at the castle?”

“Yes.” Her smile seemed to be hiding something but Pero thought little of it, instead focusing on how the light made her eyes sparkle.

“Do they treat you well? I am sure I could put in a good word for you,” he said, knowing his roguish smile was starting to cut across his face. He might have the worst luck but he still knew how to make a pretty woman smile.

And it worked because she demurely averted her eyes before biting her lip for a moment. “They treat me much better than they should,” she said with a shake of her head. “But I thank you for the offer.” She cleared her throat before looking at him again. “I can fetch you a bit of water or ale from the kitchens, if you would like? You must be parched.”

“No, no, my lady. But you are kind to offer.”

The sound of someone calling out in the distance had her turning her head with a frown. “I’ve lost track of the hour. I must go.”

And then her dark horse was setting off, galloping between the black-barked trees, and disappearing from sight before he could even ask for her name.

Pero did not find a way into the castle that day. He could have, but he didn’t. His employers allowed him another day of scouting in the woods and he happily took advantage of it and hoped his curse would subside just for a day, or even a few hours, so he might happen upon the maid again.

And his silent plea was heard as he found her at the base of a large tree, a well-worn book settled on her lap.

“Hello again,” she said as she spotted him.

“Hello, my lady.”

She patted the bit of grass beside her and Pero wavered for a moment before taking the offered seat. “Hunting again today?”

“No. I must confess that I was hoping to see you.”

Her answering giggle had something squeezing in the deep recesses of his chest. “Well, you have found me.” She closed the book carefully and turned to face him a little more. “What is your name? I have tried to guess it but I do not think any name I might have conjured would suit you.”

He could have told her his true name. It was not as if she would be able to stop him in his quest. But he knew to never think he could outsmart his curse. “I am Tovar.” And then he quickly added his title that he had not used in decades: “Marquess Tovar.” As if that would somehow make his lie about hunting with the royals more believable.

She gave him her name in return and then started to gently, simply pull him into conversation about anything and everything—from the animals he was unfamiliar with in the forest, to learning how the she grew up inside the castle and still got lost in its twisting, turning halls and rooms.

He knew he should be committing the hints she was giving to him about the castle’s layout to memory but didn’t want to. He only want to continue to hear her speak. She would ask him questions too, about how he was finding her homeland and if he still “did not require a bit of drink to slake his thirst from the kitchens.”

She was…sunlight. And such a sharp contrast to the darkness of the kingdom she resided in with its masses of dark stone, fog, and black wood trees. She did not deserve such darkness. Sunlight. She should have been bathed in sunlight, in warmth, in all things light and lovely. Not here. Not in the dark and cold. Even if it was her home—even if she called it home with a tilt of her beautiful lips.

“Tell me, Tovar. Are you coming to the Masque tomorrow night? I would like to see you again.”

“There is a Masque tomorrow?”

She nodded with another smile and stood, brushing the moss and dirt from her little dress and apron. “The King is celebrating his birthday and his daughter has finally returned from her time abroad.”

“A princess?”

She laughed and held out a hand toward him, helping him to his feet. “Yes. I thought the king would have told you about her when you were hunting.”

“I’ve only heard of his sons,” he said, not entirely lying.

“Either way, will you come to the Masque tomorrow?” She looked so hopeful, so happy. He could not tell her no. And it was with a soft kiss to his cheek that she bid him goodbye and he was left in the dark of the forest, watching her disappear again.

A Royal Masque. And a princess. Perhaps his luck was turning on its own.

This would provide the perfect opportunity for him—kill the princess and be able to dance with the woman whose lips pleasantly burned his skin.

**

It had been easy to procure an invitation to the Masque. It had been harder to find an outfit that would not gain him unwanted attention. The shops were nearly all too busy or too empty but he did eventually find a decent enough ensemble and matching mask without emptying his coffers too much. His employers had been pleased to know he had found a way into the castle without too much fanfare and seemed to approve of his plan to carry out their plot at the masque. (And if another royal died that night, who would think that it was not part of a larger plan instead of a desperate man trying to break a curse?)

Pero handed over his invitation to the major-domo standing in front of the black and gold doors and was finally ushered inside—even after a few of the knights eyed the short sword sheathed at his hip. The halls were filled with more shining dark stone and gilded suits of armor from centuries past. Paintings and tapestries were hung along the walls, depicting the kingdom’s fabled rise to power. Blooms of white flowers were littered about, a sharp contrast to the darkness that seemed to permeate each corner of this little kingdom.

No couples had already to the floor to dance yet but he did spot a few practicing an almost-familiar set of measured steps away from onlookers. The raised dais filled with a few ornately carved chairs—thrones, he supposed—was empty. His targets were not here yet.

But perhaps she was.

He scanned the crowd but did not spot her—even with everyone wearing masks, he was sure he would recognize her from leagues away.

Music suddenly blared, announcing the arrival of someone important. He turned with the rest of the crowd and listened as the royals were announced. There was the youngest son, the next, and then the eldest. The king was escorted by his daughter, but the answering applause and cheer drowned out her name and Pero could only crane his neck too much to try and get a look before he started to look suspicious.

The first official song was called and the heir apparent took the dance with his betrothed before other couples were allowed to join them on the gleaming wooden floor.

Pero continued to scan the crowd, briefly touching the small vials he’d hidden within his doublet, and found the servant in charge of bringing goblets of wine to the king without much trouble.

It was easy.

But then a woman dressed in fine clothes of the kingdom’s sigil was striding toward him, uncaring of the masses of people bowing and curtseying in her wake and she only slowed to a stop when she was right in front of him. This must be the princess. A mask of gold covered most of her features but her eyes sparkled in such a way that Pero could have sworn he had seen them before. They were alight with recognition and mischief.

“Dance with me,” she whispered.

“Your highness, I-”

The princess tilted her mask up and…

And that was when he realized, the girl from the forest and the princess…were the same person.

His fleeting moment of happiness had actually been another stroke of bad luck. How cruel.

She looked just as beautiful in her finery and jewels as she did in the smock she had donned in the forest. Her grip was gentle as she carefully started to lead him in the dance and didn’t laugh when he stumbled over her gilded shoes. Eventually, thankfully, he righted himself and was able to properly dance with her, letting the music guide his steps with her gentle corrections whenever he missed one or two.

“You’re a princess,” he said, hating the moment they left his lips.

“I am. Very astute of you, Tovar.” She laughed and stepped back from him as the song ended with a flourish and clapped for the minstrels. But then she turned back to him “Come with me,” she murmured, just low enough for him to hear. The princess didn’t wait for his answer and grasped his hands, quickly leading him through the crowd, some of whom tried to stop them, asking for his name, for a moment of the princess’ time, on and on it went. But she did not falter. Her grip did not loosen.

Not until they were out of the humid air of the ballroom and in the beautiful, cooled night air did she finally stop. Her smile was still wide and his face hurt as he felt himself trying to, unconsciously, mirror her expression. His face was not used to the movement. “What are you up to, princess?”

“I have something to show you.” She squeezed his hands once. “Do you have somewhere else you’d rather be? I don’t mean to steal you away if you have someone else waiting for you.”

Pero shook his head. “No. No, princess. I am happy to know you want my time as much as I desire yours.”

She bit her lip with a soft giggle. “Well, I do hope you like it.” She stepped back to link her arm through his, and continued to guide him down the shining palace steps and into the lush, green gardens. It was as easy for her to pull little bits of information from him as she tossed her golden mask into a bush without a care.

“Tell me of your homeland.”

“It is beautiful, your highness. Filled with sunlight and…” he drifted off, finally allowing himself to think of his home and family for the first time in years. “I miss it very much.”

She was quiet as he thought and did not seem to mind as he came back to himself—a familiar, gentle smile on her lips as she looked at him. “You do not strike me as a man who would leave someone or someplace you love so fiercely without cause. What pushed you to do so, if I may be so bold?”

“Bad luck,” he answered simply. “But tell me, why were you in the forest? Not once, but twice and without an escort or lady’s maid.”

Her face twisted into a pout for a moment. “I must admit that I do not care for every bit of royal life. It can all be so…tedious.”

“So, you snuck away?”

She nodded. “Donned my maid’s dress and took my horse from the stables while the hand was busy tending to my brother’s mare. It took hours for them to even notice I’d missed luncheon.”

“Did you not just return from abroad? I would have assumed that they would scarcely let you out of their sights.”

She shook her head with a laugh as they slowed to a stop in front of rusted gate she opened and waved him through. A secret garden greeted them, filled with all the color that the rest of the kingdom seemed to lack. Even in the moonlight, he could see the vibrant yellow, pink, red, and orange hues of the flowers that were growing haphazardly and unkempt by practiced hands. It reminded him, achingly, of the gardens his mother and Sancha would tend to on their own at home. They had always liked the free-roaming blooms over the careful structure of the manicured grounds.

“They like having me close, true. But underfoot is nothing but annoyance for everyone involved.”

“What is this place?” He asked, letting her pull him onto a simply carved bench in the center of the garden.

She turned to him with another smile—she seemed so fond of smiling. “This was my mother’s secret place. Free from the confines of my father’s kingdom and his advisor’s disapproving eyes. She would bring me here when I was little and teach me the names of all the flowers and how to care for them.”

It did not take long for Tovar to recognize the hurt in her tone.

He wondered if she heard it in his voice when he spoke of home. Of his beautiful family in Spain. Perhaps that was why he rarely spoke of them. But he wanted to tell her. Wanted to tell her everything. So, he tried. He told her of the gardens his mother grew and refused to let their servants touch. Told her of how the fields around his home smelled sweet in the spring. Told her of all the colors he had seen on his adventures—even if he had to omit some bits of information to not reveal his true profession. And she listened keenly, asking questions and always seeming to think whatever he had said was interesting. In turn, she told him of her brief time in her mother’s ancestral kingdom, learning all she could and feeling torn when she knew she had to return to her home kingdom.

He was hardly aware of time passing, or how close they had grown on the bench until he heard a crier announcing the time—it was nearing midnight. He turned at the sudden noise and his hand slid across the bench—and quickly earned himself a handful of thorns to the webbing between his fingers. He hissed but hurriedly stopped himself as her gentle, soft hands cradled his and started to remove the thorns one by one. “Bad luck indeed,” she said, teasing. “I had trimmed those blooms back.”

Bad luck.

Bad luck.

Bad luck.

The sword at his hip grew heavier.

He could do it. He could run the blade through her chest and pierce her heart and be done with this wretched curse. But her eyes were shining in the moonlight and she smiled at him and he…couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Seeming to sense his distress, her smile faded. “Tovar? What ails you?” She reached out toward him and the moment her soft hand touched his cheek…he fled.

Decades of running toward dangers left him in an instant and he ran like a coward. Out of the garden, through the crowded ballroom where people shouted for him to stop, and out into the courtyard.

He fled. He ran until his legs gave out.

And it was only then that he noticed his sword was missing.

**

Hiding in the woods was not the most comfortable of living quarters but it was not the worst he had used since he had run from home.

He would not face his employers’ wrath. Another job left unfinished would cost him his head, he knew it. To survive, he hunted and forged, only moving into the outskirts of the market when he truly needed to buy something—like healing herbs for when he cut open his arm on a low hanging branch, or new boots after his toe caught on a sharp stone and tore the sole clean off.

Perhaps it was his need to survive and not be noticed, but it took Pero weeks to realize that the kingdom was in a tizzy.

The King had nearly been murdered as the masque and his second son was implicated in the plot. A band of foreign nobles had been arrested and their heads now sat on spikes outside the castle.

But that was not all.

Apparently, the princess had been scouring the kingdom looking for the man she had danced with at the masque—who had left behind a very peculiar short sword; its handle seeming to fit only one man’s hand.

It felt silly to let himself hope.

Could he? Should he let her find him? The curse still loomed. He would not subject her to the danger that seemed to follow him. He could not-

“There you are.”

Apparently he had been ruminating too long and had not noticed the small band of people approaching him at the edge of the market. The princess—and he was loathed to admit that he had momentarily let himself refer to her as His Princess—was standing in front of him with her familiar, beautiful smile on her lips and his sword in her hand. She turned it over, holding the hilt toward him as he hastily bowed.

“This is yours, yes?”

He nodded and reached out for it, feeling the familiar hand fit into his hand like it had for decades. But soon a gentle warmth bloomed up his hand until he could feel it burrowing in his chest. Something had changed.

**

When the king learned of Tovar’s true identity, he was able to grant his daughter’s wish of allowing their betrothal. A son of duke of a wealthy kingdom was a worthy match—and the king liked to make his daughter smile, too, even if it was at the side of a foreign duke who came into palace looking slovenly.

But Pero was still nervous. Even if he no longer tripped on stairs, bricks did not fall and nearly crush his skull, animals did not dart in front of his feet. He wanted to be sure—after all, he had not delivered a heart to the woods witch.

But, on the eve of their wedding, as Pero paced in his ornate and comfortable bedchamber, a sudden blast of cold air had him turning. In front of him stood a familiar woman. Her robes were still tattered but she was…glowing. Near ethereal. The woods witch had come again.

“I could feel your worries from leagues away, little duke.” Her smile was all teeth and he knew to keep quiet. “While I would have preferred the actual heart of that beautiful princess, the curse has been lifted. That little glass sword led her heart to you. You are free. I promise you that.”

“I am sorry,” Pero said, feeling the words rush out as he looked at her. “I am so sorry, my lady.”

“I know,” she hummed before she glanced around the room. “She will like Spain more, little duke. I promise you that.”

Before Pero could ask for specifics, the witch was gone in another gust of cold wind.

**

Pero watched his wife’s smile grow broader and broader as their carriage drew closer to his castle.

The sun was shining. The air was sweet with the scent of springtime flowers and green grasses. It was filled with the colors he had promised her that night in the garden.

His family greeted them warmly and his sweet mother and sister cried in joy at finally having him back home while his father did look quiet near tears, too. Pero just watched it all with a smile on his face, so large and persistent it hurt his face.

“It is beautiful here,” she whispered to him that night in their bedchamber. “But, of course, I would expect nothing more from the land who gave me you.”

Pero kissed her, smiling against her mouth.

His glass sword was forgotten on their bedside table.

He had all he needed, all the good luck in the world, right here in his arms.

And they lived happily ever after.

The end.

A/N: please let me know what you think! 

[magnoliabloomfield]

Gally Imagine part 9

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight

Treating Gally’s wound was a good way to get time to ourselves. He’d come in before dinner when everyone else was finishing their work and so focused on food they wouldn’t notice we were missing.

He’d sit down and I would stand between his knees as I redressed his bandages, his hands a pleasant weight on my hips. While I peeled the backs off the bandaids he’d brush my hair back, stroke my face, and kiss my cheek. It was almost overwhelming how he looked at me and the abundant gentle affection he showered on me. He revered me, treated me like I was something glorious and I wasn't sure I deserved it. When I finished bandaging him I’d give his bare shoulder a few healing kisses.

There was plenty of hugs and kisses, but it wasn’t all just physical affection, we talked too. He was very logical so I’d have to work at it a little to get emotions out of him verbally. And I tried to express all my soft flowery feelings in more straightforward ways for him. But it was all worth the effort, we'd each found a best friend in the other.

It was easy for us to get that time together even though we wished we had more time in the day where we could be close and affectionate. But nothing lasts forever. Eventually Gally’s cut healed enough he didn’t need to go into the infirmary anymore. I’d done too good a job caring for him.

I lost my favorite part of my daily routine and found myself going through withdrawals the very next day before it even got to the time he’d usually come in. It was another hot day and the glade was buzzing with bad moods and a bit of heat stroked madness.

I shared a table with Gally at lunch but we couldn’t make plans to meet up where we could be overheard. We tried not to stare at each other too much and fought to keep grins off our faces. The desperation to touch was suffocating and we found some release in touching boots under the table. We’d sit toe to toe or pressed side to side where no one would notice unless they were really looking.

“Gally, I think that near death experience actually did you some good,” Newt said one day out of the blue. “Your grumpiness has dialed down about a notch and a half.”

I tried not to let Newt see me smirk, casually scratching my nose till I got my face under control again.

“Maybe it had more to do with your nurse,” Newt fixed me with his intense brown eyes and I felt caught for a second.

“I’d like to think I could take credit for that,” I said, which wasn’t a lie. “I could be the first therapist in the glade, fixing all you traumatized boys. How long do you think it would take me to get through everyone?”

Gally nearly choked and gave me a sharp look that almost made me burst out laughing, obviously he’d thought I’d meant something lewd, doing what I did with him with each of the boys in the glade. Fat freaking chance.

I didn’t think I’d thrown Newt completely off our scent but I had muddied the waters for the time being. The lunch crowd was breaking up and getting back to work, Gally and I lingered just long enough to have a few words.

“If you feel like you’re getting heat stroke today you should come to the infirmary,” I advised him. “We have buckets of water for cooling off and plenty to drink as well.” I tried to make it sound as professional as I could, something I’d say to anyone.

He nodded then gave a cautious glance around. “I’ll find a way, sometime,” he said quietly as he passed me, gently brushing my shoulder with his.

Gally’s word was as good as gold. I wasn’t worried, just bored. I made it back to the infirmary, realizing I hadn’t seen much of Clint and Jeff that day. Maybe I could poke around and see if there was any kind of secret way in and out of it where I could sneak out or sneak Gally in. That’s when I stumbled upon the most shocking thing I’d ever seen first hand in the glade.

“Oh! God, I’m sorry!” I said as I turned away and scurried back to the main room of the infirmary. I tried to process what I’d just seen as Clint and Jeff caught up with me, slipping shirts back on and looking nervous.

“Jackie!” Jeff called me their special name they’d given me for being a girl med-‘Jack’. “Jackie, please don’t tell anyone.” He pleaded with me.

“I won’t, I promise,” I shook my head.

“Good,” Clint nodded. “Because if you do we’ll tell about you and Gally.”

I reeled back in surprise and Jeff also gave Clint a sharp look.

“You’re going to blackmail me?” I asked, so shaken up I did t try to deny it. “I really mean it, I won’t tell. It doesn’t have to be hostile.”

“We’re not blackmailing her,” Jeff said to Clint pointedly before sighing and turning back to me. “Thanks Jackie, we know we can trust you, you’re cool.”

I relaxed a little. “What do you know about me and Gally anyway?” I asked, suspicious.

Clint looked away, betraying that it wasn’t all that much. “Just that you both looked a little too happy after he’d come in. And the fact he came in everyday without fail, usually he tries to get out of letting us help him.”

“So you really do have a thing going with him?” Jeff seemed happy at least.

I couldn’t help but smile shyly. “Yeah.” It felt good to tell someone.

“Ha!” Jeff laughed in Clint’s face. “I told you! You owe me desert for a week.”

Clint looked at him with a fire in his eyes that either could have led to a brawl or another passionate make out session. I wasn’t prepared to handle either.

“He bet you’d get together with Newt,” Jeff said, looking back at me. “But I knew- I knew Gally had it worse for you.”

Geez. I really needed to do something to assure Gally I was just as adoring of him as he was of me.

“Hey, blackmailing aside, maybe we could help each other out instead,” I lit upon the idea.

—————————

Clint and Jeff helped Gally and I orchestrate a rendezvous in return for the same favor. Gally of course didn’t know what I knew about them and it wasn’t my place to tell him. I convinced him he’d just have to trust me. All we had to do was provide believable alibi's for each other.

That’s how we found ourselves in a very secluded and quiet part of the deadheads, a blanket spread out on a grassy patch to make it more comfortable. We had sat for a while and chatted but soon dissolved until we were lying down. Gally was on his back and I was propped up beside him. I decided to try my idea of revering him in return.

I stroked his face like he would do mine, tracing every lovely feature of it until he closed his eyes with a blissful expression. I pressed a kiss to his temple and his cheek, seeing his smile grow. I raked my fingers through his short, thick hair.

“You’re so good at what you do, Gally,” I told him softly, his eyes opening a little to pay attention to me. “You work so hard to keep everything running smoothly. You take on so much responsibility, big responsibility, and I don’t think anyone shows you enough appreciation for doing the hard stuff. I just hope that when we’re together you’re not worrying about me, about us. I’d like to give you some peace where you can take that weight off your shoulders and relax.” I’d continued stroking his hair for a bit, but then gently laid my hand on his chest and moved it up to his shoulder and further up until I was cradling his face by the time I was done talking.

At first he seemed shell shocked by all that, like no one had ever said a nice thing to him in his life. His eyes roamed my face and slowly a sweet smile grew on his own. Still not one for speaking his feelings, he shared them in a way he was very talented in. He reached up, his fingers curving behind my neck as his thumb brushed my cheek, he gently guided my lips to his.

He wasn’t a frenzied kisser, going so fast you couldn’t feel much. His passion wasn’t a house fire, but a controlled burn, and it felt like he savored each moment and sensation as much as I did. He kissed me in ways that let me feel what he was feeling and this one told me that when he was with me, everything else just melted away till we were the only two people in a big, wide, open world. We were the only things that mattered.

@poulterholland @anniemylennox @crazysheeplyca