#feat. tall bird problems

[belovedcorvidarchive2024]

“is now a bad time to tell you i’m claustrophobic?” my oldest law headcanon is him being claustrophobic sooooo-

❣ | Memes :: This One | Forced Proximity Sentence Starters

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" Damn it- "

Rocinante's curse was scarcely a breath - not angry but tense and desperately worried. This wasn't going to plan: that was always when he unravelled if he wasn't careful. Sure, they were not always welcomed everywhere they went, but times like this when people were as a whole immediately and openly hostile were rare. Government sponsored misinformation could be a hell of a thing. Finding a place to wait them out before sneaking back to their boat was proving to be a difficult task, between their ever-present pursuers and his own ridiculous size limiting possible hiding places. While they were trying to hide from a group of aggressive people wasn't the greatest time to find out about this, no, but that wasn't Law's fault. If anything, Rocinante supposed it was his fault for not picking up on that sooner, and the idea filled him with a kind of guilt that might have made him pause if not for the adrenaline already tearing through his system. After all, he knew what his own situational fear looked and felt like when it decided to raise its ugly head. Even if it was difficult to control or even fully perceive your own reaction when it occurred, he still knew what his behaviour was like when the two of them were being chased. The arms that held the other a little closer were careful, despite the way this situation made his whole body wire tense.

" I'm sorry, Law. "

That much was genuine, but the small space that they were going to have to duck into for a bit couldn't really be avoided with people right at their heels. This was an afterthought sort of space between buildings, an alcove no bigger than a cupboard and probably intended as a storage space or a spot to get out of the rain, but it would work for this. He had to kind of fold himself up in order for them both to fit with the door slid shut, but he still pressed himself as close to the walls as he could to forfeit space to his companion - even if it was sort of a futile effort. Though he wanted to help, the kid would probably not find much he could do to be comforting in this moment; Corazón kept a sharp ear on their surroundings instead, focusing on making his own breathing something quiet and steady for the other to copy and brushing a thumb along the inside of his wrist in a way that he hoped would be comforting but non-invasive.

[paperstarwriters]

When Things Go Wrong (Feat. Inanna)

I know the larger trend is to lean comedy, but I couldn't help myself lmao. Also oof, the fic ended up with a lot less focus on things going wrong and a lot more focus on repair. Whoops lmao Pairing: Inanna & Reader (Platonic; familial), Muriel & Reader (Platonic, though could also be viewed as romantic)

Warnings: slight angst, hurt/comfort, Reader deals with feelings of inadequacy, Inanna acts a lot like Muriel.

Summary: Inanna had lost her pack once before, but here, she found a new pack with you and Muriel. It's small, but it's hers, and she will do what she can to protect every member of this little pack. So, when things go wrong, she has to fix it.

Vesuvia Weekly Prompt | Masterlists | The Arcana Masterlist Word Count: 4,085

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"And? When it all goes wrong, what will you do?"

When Inanna was a pup, she would have flashed her teeth in a terrifying snarl, gnash her jaws and howled her answer: "Fight! I would fight, I will fight!" But that is the bark of a child, of a pup, though she knows many grown wolves who would yowl the same sentiment.

Perhaps she shouldn't treat this as if she was somehow wiser. After all, it is wise for a wolf to solve problems with their fellows in a wolfish manner. The predicament occurs when you're dealing with a not-wolf-pack. Two strange magicians with one that too often loves to leave the pack and explore like an overeager puppy, while the other stumbles around occasionally like a newborn. Of course, then there was the snake, mischievous in the same way their wandering puppy magician was, and yet somehow much worse from their small intimidating size, and ability to slip behind and between and into things, without other people knowing. It's terrifying sometimes to see a snake and fear for your life only to realize it's your friend, covered in mud, intent on scaring you to death.

There were others as well, the tall slim bird-man. who sometimes had the face of a bird with cold unblinking eyes which he could somehow remove and leave on a wall, with his own raven friend who freaked out at the slightest inconvenience. There was the soft one, with her tiny little cat, who blinked and "meep!"ed at random intervals and fascinated Inanna to no end, unless she got angry which made her far more terrifying.

There was the wispy one, dressed in spiderwebs with an owl by her side. Inanna liked the owl, for their conversations, but she could never get around the sight of it turning it's head all the way around to stare her down. She's tried it before, it's very very hard to do, and yet the owl can do it without even blinking. Not to mention how irritatingly silent she can be sometimes as she flies around them.

Ah, but in short, they were an eclectic bunch, and though they didn't stay as closely together as a typical pack would, they were close enough, visiting often and being kind to each other. Especially her familiar, and the stumbling magician-ling. Muriel rolled his eyes at the title she gave you. Magician-ling, as if you were a newborn magician. She knew that wasn't true, but she thought it was a fonder title than, the undead. Muriel certainly seemed to prefer it.

Muriel certainly seemed to prefer you.

She remembers the delight in watching the two of you grow close, how you seemed to open the floodgates of connection and re-established his ability to find solace in a pack, to have friends, to have fellows he could rely on. Perhaps not fellow wolves, but someone at least. After he grew close to you, suddenly he was eating with others, suddenly he wasn't so alone anymore. And neither was she. She loves you for that, for giving her a pack to be with again, even if it was more spread out, and even if there were sometimes where they'd end up alone again, it was a little pack she found herself a part of all over again. Her pack. Her home.

And as you spent more and more time sleeping in their den, sharing Muriel's warmth, and cuddling up with her, she found her delight as a member of a pack of three. Muriel was happier with you to, so, so happy as his face grew soft, and his smiles grew wide, and when he did his chores, or wandered through the forest, you would sometimes jump up and delight her in a game, in a chance to chase, and jump and throw and catch, and sometimes, Muriel would join in too, and like a pair of wolves chasing after an agile deer, she would hunt you alongside Muriel peppering your face with kisses instead of bites when they inevitably found and caught you.

It was fun. It was happy. Small as you may be the three of you were a pack, which was why she had to fix this.

She knows why it happened, why you left so suddenly, and she's ashamed to know she had a paw in your sorrow large and clumsy as she was, she had knocked over your inkwell onto your book. You had been working on that so intently, staying up so late... too late in her and Muriel's opinion. It was the source of so many of your disagreements, and when you found it soaked in ink, all you did was cry.

She didn't mean to. She really didn't mean to. Her tail hit the bottle when she saw you finally taking a break and it just spilled all over the pages. And in that moment, you didn't dare to even look at her.

"Don't follow me," you had told Muriel with a frightening look in your eyes. You didn't say the same to her, though Muriel tried to argue for her to follow regardless.

"They don't want to be bothered," he insisted. "I... I think they just need to take a breather."

She could tell, in the way that familiars could, that more than anything, he wanted to defy that request. Instead, with his dexterous hands, he tries to salvage your work, to clean up the mess that she made, that she's helpless to fix, that she would only ever worsen if she even dared lay a paw upon it.

Still, she had to do something.

Muriel doesn't call after her when she slips out the door. The sound of wood creaking open, the sound of it slamming shut after was unmistakable, but he says nothing, despite that deep connection that would have allowed her to hear him despite the distance. He's silent, and though her chest pangs at the thought of leaving him in that state, she knows finding you, and fixing her mistake would surely bring you back, would surely fix his mood. So she tracks you down, the agile deer she's caught many times before, following your familiar scent, the familiar prints you leave in the forest around you, and finds you far far far away, crying, and gasping, panicking in that way she's seen Muriel do so many times before.

And in that way she's done to Muriel so many times before, she curls around you, lets you rest your head against her pelt, and quietly speaks, though she knows you can't hear.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to."

You lean into her touch, sob into her fur, and don't accept her apology, unable to understand a word she speaks. Her distress, is visible, is audible and you try to sniffle and pat her but you're too caught up in your own distress to try and console her. He licks at your tears, wiping them away like she's seen Muriel do with his hands, and you giggle at the feeling. She doesn't intend to make you giggle, but she keeps licking over and over again, if only to hear you laugh instead of cry.

"Inanna!" You bat her away, as gently as you can manage, and it pains her to be unable to tell you the same things Muriel does. You sound so sweet when you laugh, so why must you cry? Why cling to the sorrow she's given you when all she wants is to make you smile?

She wishes you could understand when she says how sorry she is.

Still, she curls around you, tucks her head atop your lap, and tries to keep you warm, to keep you company as you struggle to terms with the mistake she's made in you. At the very least, you sweep the tears from her eyes, and you fix her with a sad and tired look, like a puppy denied her mother. A pup denied her home.

Inanna knows she is giving you the same stare.

"I'm sorry Nana," you mumble perhaps in reply to her own sorrow, and she presses her face further against you, agonized at the idea that she has made you sorry. That you feel the need to apologize at all. Was it not her mistake that made you cry? Was it not her mistake that sent you running?

You lean in, and bask in the feel of her fluffy pelt, rubbing your hands against her fur, in that soothing manner that all you humans so loved to do. She basks in the feeling, the soft and tender feeling, and presses herself further into you, as if it would grant her more. It's greedy perhaps, but it seems to soothe you as much as it does her, as tears slowly dribble, then drip to a halt.

And you look to the forest your soul somewhere far away. And you look the spitting image of Muriel before you came into his life.

And she wonders what happened to you, when you made their life better...had... had they been making your life worse?

She nudges her face into your stomach, hoping and praying that you would get the message. She is curious, she wants to hear your thoughts. She does not want you to be alone in whatever suffering she and Muriel had left you to endure alone.

You look down at her, and as if by some miracle you smile and hear her silent plea.

"Do you ever feel like you're not what you're supposed to be?"

And Inanna curses the fates, the heavens and the moon who guides her. Curses that she was given such a wonderful pack to be a part of an eclectic mix of creatures big and small who all share that connection of affection with each other, who, though not often can sit at the same table and eat their shared catch together, and share whatever meal they've caught in their hunts. She curses that she's been given such a tiny intimate loving pack amidst the larger one, and that she is powerless to protect either when she cannot bear her teeth at the problem.

She wishes, again, begs and pleas to the very moon she just cursed that you could understand her once more.

"I do not understand," she would whisper in sad sorry sound "I am what I am and you are what you are, what is incorrect of our existence?"

And you look down at her, and twist that smile into a pitying thing. With a hand on her jaw you rub at your cheek and chuckle as she allows you this minor cruelty, forcing one eye shut, as she stares with the other.

"You're so tame Inanna, so kind. People say wolves should be fiercer, scarier than this. You seem almost more like a dog sometimes."

It's another cruelty that she must allow. If you could hear her, she would bear her teeth, scold you for thinking such cruel terms, as if others' thoughts could make her any less the wolf she is. But you would not hear her words, and you would not know her anger was not at you. Her jaws remain shut, though she could open them to remind you of her nature. And she leans further into your touch, to inform you of the rest of her.

She can be scarier, she can be fiercer, to her prey and any threat, but only a foolish wolf would bear her fangs at a pack-member in need.

"Inanna, did you know me when I was alive?"

She stares once more, eyes turning up to observe you from where she rests in your lap. She knows you now, and you are alive now. Is that not enough?

Again that sorrow pools in your eyes, sags over your shoulders and brings pains to your fingertips as you clutch at her fur. She wants to whimper to whine in pain but her silence is her gift to you, and an urge to listen to more.

She is here to fix, perhaps this is more than her mistake, but she has caused you pain and she wishes to know how to fix it—if she could fix it. The job seems grander and grander with every word that falls from your lips, every twist of your expression in pain and sorrow, and she is left helpless at her inability to talk to you as she so wishes.

"I knew more magic then, right?"

She tries to nod. It's true, before your death you knew far more than you knew now, but then you had seemed so unhappy as well. Wouldn't you be pleased to let go of such sorrows?

"I wish I still knew all that magic."

It clicks then, and she wants to speak. She begs for the ability to speak.

"Asra mentions it sometimes, how I used to be smarter, stronger, more capable."

"I wish I knew more magic too," she wants to say. "I wish I knew how to tell you that you're enough."

"Does Muriel ever mention it? How it would be nice if he didn't have to cover for my clumsiness all the time?"

"I wish I could tell you how much we love you."

Inanna does what she can. She shakes her head furiously, as she's seen you and Muriel do many times before, and she bears the brunt of dizziness that the movement brings. She wants to tell you that you're wrong, she wants to tell you that you are loved, she wants to tell you that to her, newborn as you are, you are just as powerful as the you of that past, that you had magic that your old self never could have reached. You had the ability to bring people together, to make a pack from a crowd of such different animals.

You had the magic to give her a pack again.

A pack of her, you, and—

"Are you okay?"

Muriel! Inanna leaps up, and she wonders at how she hadn't thought of it before. In a manner reminiscent of the day she first truly got to know you, she rushes behind Muriel, forgoing telling him what he needs to do in favour of telling him all that you were suffering alone. Muriel, she knew was clever. He'd know what to tell you, and he could speak for her too.

And yet when they turn to look at you, when she drags Muriel by his clothes yanked from between her teeth, she catches sight of your eyes growing wide, of your brows drawing down and your own body retreating from the both of them.

"Ah, sorry," Muriel tries to say. "I know you said not to follow you, but Inanna sounded distressed and—"

And you looked at her as if she had betrayed you. Hot tears building up on your face as you look away and try to hide, to hide from the both of them, of course, but to hide from yourself, she thinks as well.

"I'm fine. We're—Inanna and I were fine," you speak, around a mouthful of your own flesh and clothes. She can hear the shudder of your throat the warble in your tone, and she knows it is not merely from her keen ears that the sound carries through.

Muriel fixes her with a look, concern worry and curiosity, but when he whispers to her, in a voice only the two of them can hear, he asks her not to tell him. Not right away at least. She knows. She accepts, she never would have even if he didn't ask.

"Nana... Inanna wasn't fine."

You go still for a moment, back straightening, as if you're about to turn, before you burry your face deeper into your lap an attempt to hide more shame. Still the source of your sorrow, Inanna curls up beside Muriel, intent on doing the same.

"I'm sorry," and you sound so, so small.

Was this what he meant? When Muriel once fussed over his towering size. You sound so small, smaller than a bunny, smaller than a squirrel, you sound as if you could be held between her jaws and locked behind her teeth, and if she held you like she held a pup, she would have to take extra care not to bring you any harm.

It sounded like even before starting, she had already failed.

"It's not you," Muriel clarifies, shuffling close to lean against you. He starts with a hand on your shoulder, gives you ample time to shrug it off before he comes in with the rest of himself, pulling you into his embrace, into his affection and care.

And Inanna watches as you relax, suddenly wishing she was more like you.

She is a member of an eclectic pack of many different animals, but one mostly made of humans. Maybe she could take better care of you all if she traded her fangs for a form like yours. If she traded her fur for your skin.

She curls up beside you, trying to amend her inadequacy, and your hand finds her fur, stroking once more, calming even more.

If she can soothe you like this, then perhaps it isn't so bad.

"Inanna wanted to talk to you, but you can't understand what she says."

You say nothing, but you look away from the both of them, and Inanna understands. You still long for that magic so far out of your reach, you still long for the spells that you once had before your demise. She's sorry that she had stood between you and your goal, sorry that she had ruined your hard work to achieving it.

"She says she's sorry," Muriel says, and you sigh, shoulders sagging, as your hand returns to her fur.

"Its okay Nana, it was an accident I know."

"no, no, not only for that," she whispers.

"Not only for that," Muriel says.

"I'm sorry you think that you are lesser now than you were before"

"She says she's sorry that you think you're lesser now than you were before."

"I'm sorry that you think you are inadequate"

"She's sorry that you think you're inadequate."

"I'm sorry that you think we don't love you so much as you are now."

"She's sorry—" and Muriel falters, words dying on his tongue. "Do... do you not think we love you as you are now? Do you think we'd love the you from before... more?"

"It's not.... I know you didn't even really know me then" you try to argue back, but your voice warbles and cracks and though you try to deny it, it's clear the feeling was there. "But I... I was such a skilled magician before. Asra tries not to mention it but.... but I hear it sometimes. In the way that they speak.... they look so sad, so disappointed, as if they're upset that I'm not like that anymore—and I know that they're probably more upset that I've forgotten them," you're hiccuping now, gasping for air, that your lungs deprive yourself of a self harm that mirrors your words, cruel bitter things, where you pretend as if it's foolish for you not to be so hurt. "It's just that... I... I ... It'd be nicer wouldn't it? If I wasn't so clumsy, and if I knew all those spells. I'm sure I knew a spell to understand familiars once, I could've talked to her—I could have talked to you Inanna. And I just... I thought that maybe if I studied a little more I could do it again. That you know, maybe I could do other things too, and you wouldn't need to help me so often.

"I just feel like there's just so many things I can't do anymore. So many things I don't remember how to do, that would be so, so helpful."

And Muriel speaks exactly what Inanna thinks, without a word of encouragement from her side. "Do you think you aren't really helpful right now? Even if you aren't helpful, it doesn't make you any less...wonderful."

With his dexterous hands, Muriel slips your cheek into his palm, cradling your face, as he shuffles around you to make it easier for you to turn to him, to make it easier for him to wipe away your tears, to make it easier for him to tug you into his chest, let you sob into his shirt as he holds you tight. Inanna nuzzles up beside you, rubs her cheek against your shuddering ribs, and though it's hardly the same as the affection Muriel gives you, she hopes you can feel it too.

"You've done so much for me. For Inanna too. You remember how you told me that my past doesn't define me? The same applies to you, you know. You're amazing now, what does it matter how skilled you were before?"

"I don't know," you sob. "But... gods, it still makes me feel like I've somehow failed. Like I've grown worse over time instead of getting better. I should be getting better, shouldn't I?"

Muriel opens his mouth to say something, but grimaces at the thought. Inanna knows. Inanna knows full well what he's thinking, and she speaks for him, before he chooses silence.

"I... um... oh... Inanna says that.... no pup learns how to walk without stumbling, and.... and that no hunt future hunt will be better if the current one is successful. And.... and she says that even if she fails to catch her food, she is no less a wolf. And... and that applies to the both of us."

Muriel's face turns a little pink at the mention, and you turn to look up at him, your own hand coming up to mirror his own, cradled on his cheek. As you ask with your heart of concern, "You think you're not good enough?"

His brows dip though that pink colour doesn't go away. "I should be saying that to you, you know. You already know so much magic..."

"And you know so much about the forest, about life."

Muriel scoffs, eyes growing dark. "I know a lot about ending it."

"And a lot about healing it. Even without magic, you know how to mend wounds so well."

"And even without as much knowledge as before, you know how to do so much." You scoff at his retort, and Inanna buts her head against you, something Muriel is eager to translate. "Inanna agrees."

You roll your eyes, at their shared agreement, and smile. Muriel smiles in turn seemingly satisfied with this outcome, but Inanna is not convinced.

She speaks through Muriel, wagging her tail as she squirms into the space between the both of you, hoping to curl up around both of you and emphasize her points.

"Nanna!" you yelp

"Pfft." Muriel swats at her tail, likely stuck in his face. She doesn't regret a thing, only that it makes him slower to speak. "Inanna, oof, Nanna says that she loves you by the way."

"Both of you. I love both of you."

Muriel stubbornly refuses to voice the latter part. She swats her tail against his face again. "Hey! Okay, okay, both of us she says."

"You are my pack."

"She says we're her pack," and Muriel further translates. "She says we're her family."

"Inanna..." You open your arms, and let her into her lap, showering her with affection and cuddles, hands scratching and petting and fluffing and rubbing. "I love you too Nanna!"

From the side Muriel watches with a small smile on his lips as Inanna peppers you with slobbery kisses, and before he dares lapse into any feelings of isolation, Inanna twists, intent on pulling him into this pile of affection and play, as for the first time in a long time, she shows her love for her family the way a wolf does best.

So perhaps she cannot fix her pack's problems by bearing her teeth. She can fix them with play and affection with kisses, and with help. She's not alone anymore. And neither are either of you.

[seasonclans]

SkyClan

The first Clan to form, and the most controversial Clan of all.

SkyClan was founded years ago by Feathered Sky of the Stars, the fifth of the first cats created, on the foundation of three main principals, known today as Snow Leopard's Decree:

A good outsider is a dead outsider

War is the law of life

Weakness is a weed to be eradicated

After Feathered Sky's death at the paws of his brother, Wings of Grey the Wise left his adopted son's group to help SkyClan recover. However, his attempt to lead was overthrown by Song of Sparrows the Relentless, who had become just like Feathered Sky. During her rule, SkyClan was driven out for constantly starting fights with other Clans, and Song of Sparrows died during the journey. Wings of Grey, despite his age, took over and led SkyClan into a new age, and molded it into what it is today.

As his first act upon establishing SkyClan's new territory, he formed a new code that promoted kindness and understanding, knowing focusing only on battle would bring only pain. This code was called Raven's Teachings:

The skies belong to all creatures

We are to be as wild and free as birds

Treat others as you wish to be treated

(more under the cut...)

[ID: The first image is of a forested mountain range covered in snow. The mountains disappear into the heavy cloud cover that hides the ground below. The second image is of a dense forest bordered by huge mountains with low-hanging clouds covering the trees and mountains. End ID.]

The highest island in all of the Star Plane, known as the Island of Clouds, is where SkyClan went after being exiled from the Isle of Seasons. The entire island is blanketed in snow, the cliffs are tall, the trees are dense, and clouds cover the ground. This is the island the strange cats call home.

The average SkyClan cat has long and thick wooly fur to keep them warm in the freezing cold winters of their home. Their claws are typically sharper than other cats' due to their climbing, as well as long hind legs for jumping. But their strangest trait of all is their wings.

Ever since Feathered Sky's reign, all cats born within the Clan have had large feathery wings, a gift given by Midnight Sky herself. Because of this, all clan-born cats have a close relationship with the sky and its inhabitants... Including even the largest of birds.

SkyClan's most important practice is the taming and befriending of birds. These bird companions are mostly used for guarding camp and aiding in hunting or fighting, or even just collecting materials. Wings of Grey began this practice when he started taming ravens, which are the most common and sacred companions, but hawks and owls are also fairly common.

SkyClan as a whole honors wisdom, freedom, hard work, and friendship. Though a recent movement has pushed to go back to the old ways of honoring war and carnage.

That can't be too much of a problem... Right?

Fun fact: SkyClan uses a completely different naming system from other Clans, which works exactly like when the Clans were founded. Cats will have a long name usually made up of two words (often joined together by another word), based on their appearance or their personality within their first moon, given to them at birth (i.e. Wings of a Hawk, Storm Cloud, Shining Puddle). Throughout their apprenticeship, they're free to experiment with names, or keep their birth name. When they reach adulthood and earn their job, they'll then earn a title based on their feats and strengths (i.e. the Strong, the Wise, the Swift). This title is subject to change. When a cat becomes a leader, their title will ALWAYS be "of the Stars".

Overview (tldr);

Founder: Feathered Sky

Notable Leaders: Song of Sparrows, Wings of Grey, Storm Cloud

Current Leader: Fangs of Spiders

Appearance: Wooly fur, wings

Skills: Taming birds, jumping, climbing

Traits: Freedom, wisdom, hard work, friendship

[sourinksoda]

HeartFeller x Gemcyt AU

@\ chrisrin's au really got me thinkin about the steven universe parallels in heartfeller

Harrow has similar development to pearl and he and Rend's strained relationship reminds me alot on the scene in Mr Greg, Both of You along with Drift away.

Look, if I were you I'd hate me too I don't hate you But I knew how you felt about Rose and I stayed anyway That wasn't the problem Then what was? She fell in love with you Well, you know Rose She always did what she wanted!

Something about a hairy man and a bird talking about their shared tall ex, that acted selfishly and sacrificed themself leaving a lot of complicated grief behind.

[stingslikeabee]

The "if they had a kid" meme for Melissa and Ryuji? :eyes:

send me a pair name and I’ll tell you what I think it would be like if they had a child . accepting

Name: Kenzo Goda (JP: 郷田 健三). Gender: Male. General appearance: The first thing anyone notes about Kenzo is his height - he’s nearly as tall as Ryuji as an adult, and his build is also muscular-leaning and strong, but he never actively fostered that (he enjoys swimming and surfing out of everything, so he’s not as bulky as he could have been given his genes). His hair is very dark brown, the same shade of Ryuji (when not bleached) and Melissa’s, but slightly wavier/fuller than his colleagues who are fully Japanese. Kenzo makes a point of keeping longer hair (around the shoulders), with limited/no facial hair - exception are the eyebrows, which are natural and rather thick and emphasize the very intelligent/calm look of his eyes (Kenzo’s eyes are lighter than the average Japanese brown, an influence of his mom). Personality: Kenzo has the chill and cool demeanor that neither of his parents were equipped with; the boy has always been soft-spoken, collected and hardly bothered or angered by mostly anything. Despite the evident charisma and charm that both Ryuji and Melissa display, Kenzo’s appeal is very different - he just exudes this soothing aura and an overall sense of tranquility that draws others in. While his parents were agents of chaos during most of their lives (particularly when young), Kenzo is remarkably at peace with the world and his place on it and a notable pacifist/diplomat in how he approaches problems. Special talents: Kenzo loves nature and feels really at ease in the wilderness - he’s an accomplished tracker, hiker and an amazing surfer. He also seems to be trusted/liked by most types of animals - from stray dogs to shy birds, he somehow makes it easier for the other creatures to approach and not feel threatened by his presence (a feat considering his towering height and muscular strength).  Who they like better: Both - it sounds like a fake, diplomatic answer to appease egos and avoid trouble, but he means it. Kenzo really like both of his parents equally for their different strengths and finds their union quite inspiring and lovely. However, he tends to favor his mother if he needs advice on personal matters (although he normally goes to his father later, too). Who they take after more: It’s definitely Ryuji where appearances are concerned, although there is just enough of Melissa’s blood to make it evident that he’s not fully Asian; in terms of personality, frankly, it’s a mystery - both of his parents were troublemakers in their own way and no one can explain how Kenzo seems to be so much wiser beyond his years. The closest relative in terms of personality is his maternal grandmother, Eleanor. Personal Headcanon: He decided he wanted to become a surfer after the first time the Godas visited Okinawa. It’s the first home that Melissa had in Japan and she still enjoys going there for the beaches, the warmer weather and the food - Kenzo was still very young, around 5 years old or so, when he saw the sea there for the first time and became absolutely obsessed with it. As a consequence, if Kenzo ever gets a say for any of the family vacation destinations, he’ll pick somewhere with good beaches and the right amount of wind for the perfect waves. Faceclaim: Forrest Hoffman.

[starvrses]

BLANCHE — intro post.

The famed adventurer known as the ‘Frosted Swan’. The rumours of her escapades are greatly exaggerated.

[ BASIC INFORMATION ]

- full name: blanche - other names: frosted swan - age: 19 - pronouns: she/her - species: human(?) - weapon: sword - vision: cryo - nation: fontaine - affiliation: the adventurer's guild - constellation: cygnus albus (white swan) - likes: adventure, birds, sweet foods - dislikes: herself, attention

[ ABOUT ]

“and so, the frosted swan’s blade cleaved a path through the monsters, echoing a warning to those who dared to lay a hand on the innocent.” – ‘the tales of the frosted swan’, final chapter: ‘the swan’s vengeance’ fontaine’s adored ‘frosted swan’, and a local legend among the adventurers of the nation. blanche is well regarded amongst the public, with the daring tales of her adventures being turned into a bestselling novel. ever since the publishing, all anyone could talk about was how confident and fearless of an adventurer she must be, gushing over her accomplishments and feats. the book paints the picture of a brave young woman, who leaps into danger with her sword swinging. but behind the rumours lies a shy girl hiding in the corner of the guild, listening to the gossip float around the tables of adventurers. with every tale—each more grandiose than the last—she shrinks further into her seat. “did you see the frosted swan defeated a hoard of lawachurls all by herself?” “i heard she saved an entire village the other month, without breaking a sweat.” “she saved me once, from a nasty hilichurl camp. i thought i was going to die, but she swooped in and rescued me like a hero from a fairy-tale!” the extent of blanche’s reputation was far more than she was happy to have, so she tried to avoid drawing any further attention to herself when she could. excited questions about her adventures were met with a squeaked reply of “oh, i'm really not that special!” this attempt to lay low proved to be a failure upon the publication of the sequel to the chronicles of her adventures. it was as the author explained in their foreword: “the frosted swan is the embodiment of the modern adventurer’s spirit, and such greatness cannot be overlooked.”

[ APPEARANCE ]

blanche uses the tall female model. she is a young woman with slightly tanned skin, pointed ears, a small mole beneath her left eye, and a square-shaped bandage on her right cheek. her eyes are a light shade of grey and have dark circles underneath them. her hair is cut into a short, messy bob, coloured in a gradient from light blue to dark blue at the tips, and her bangs are long and side-swept. (outfit to be added.)

[ PERSONALITY ]

despite a grand reputation that describes her as a bold hero without any fear, blanche is a very shy individual. she suffers from social anxiety, choosing to avoid interacting with others more than necessary. this introversion often clashes with the attention she receives as the adventurers’ guild’s beloved ‘frosted swan.’ the illustrious tales about blanche’s adventures are mostly embellished, but all are rooted in truth. she is a very brave young woman, often adventuring in places that many flinch at the thought of, which quickly earned her a high status within the adventurers’ guild. in dangerous situations, she shows an impressive amount of level-headedness, and has very good problem-solving skills that allow her to navigate through danger with ease. her moral compass is very strong, to the point that she will sacrifice her own well-being to protect someone at risk. even so, she struggles to accept being known as a hero, as she doesn’t see herself as someone heroic, or even noteworthy at all.

[ OTHER INFORMATION ]

- voicelines (to be added.) - character details & stories (to be added.)

[ NOTES ]

- blanche has gone through many name changes before i settled on her final name and title. she was first 'leonie' and her title was 'the lion's blade'... but i felt like the lion motif didn't fit her (and it was a little close to 'lion's roar' a.k.a a sword in genshin. - i thought about using a name that meant snow, but i couldn't find any french names used commonly that had meanings related to snow or winter. thus, blanche. her name means white, which is representative of both snow, a reference to her cryo vision, and her swan motif.

[pearlywritings]

Lend me a helping shoulder

synopsis: The end of the month is always hard on the Twilight Sword, so it’s no wonder that you want to come over and support your hard-working lover. But first, you’ll need someone to help you. Up.

pairing: Dainsleif x fem!reader, feat Halfdan

tw: Khaenri’ah era, established relationship, some crack but mainly fluff

word count: 2.2k+ words

author’s note: I needed a break from what I am working on right now, and the idea of carrying your friend on your shoulders so she could kiss her man through the window has been sitting in my head for years.

Another drop falls from the tip of the quill and hits the paper, bursting into smaller blots of ink, completely ruining the half-written report. A tired sigh and then a hand reaches to crumple the document and throw it in a bin to dispose later. New parchment is laid upon the wooden surface and the quill dips in an inkwell for the hundredth time this evening. Or it would be more accurate to say night already.

The lights within the palace are off, and Dainsleif has just one lamp on, illuminating his working desk and piles of papers stacked on top of it. It doesn't look that bad - the pile with finished work is way bigger than the one that still needs to be tended to. The man though looks awful - dark circles around his stark eyes make his gaze look more miserable than he'd actually let on, hair is quite disheveled from how many times he ran his fingers through blond locks, there is a red mark on his cheek - one yet to disappear after he had that very cheek supported by the fist, or otherwise he pretty much would've hit the desk face first. A cape with a Royal Guard emblem embroidered on its back and black gloves are abandoned, parts of armor that are quick and easy to put back on if there is a state of emergency are neatly placed on a chair near the window, and a couple of buttons on his shirt are popped open. If any of his underlings saw him at the moment, they'd see a sight of what a royal knight should never look like.

However Dainsleif is exhausted. It's the end of the month, there are major reports that need to be passed to the higher-ups at the Court and they really love changing the filling template every now and then, as if they don't have any more important tasks to attend to. This time, regretfully, they decided it's time to replace the format yet again and informed the Captain almost at the last minute. The man would love to be mad, but at this point his brain have only one legible thought: finish the work as soon as possible and maybe, if he is lucky enough, catch a couple of hours of sleep before the time he'll need to pass these stacks to dozens of secretaries and make it their problem, not his.

The document he is rewriting right now is not the first of the kind - it's been two or so hours since his consciousness started to slowly but surely slip from his grasp. It is annoying on its own already, but the next thing that happens makes anger spark in his blood. There is something steadily knocking against his window. He knows for a fact there are no trees growing near the wall, besides he can hear no wind that could've hypothetically made a branch hit the glass rhythmically. A bird? Yeah, it could be, a little irritating thing, that doesn't know that the night is the night and you freaking sleep and not come bothering a busy Captain.

Huuuuh… Well, standing up, cracking some joints and walking to the window and back sounds like a small break. Who knows, maybe it'll even help the man gain his concentration back. Oh, the pitch black sky above, and the night could've been worse, if he had patrolling on his plate as well today.

The chair squeaks against the floorboards and Dainsleif winces - he really needs to ask for a carpet. The paper is placed upon the tall stack and the quill falls near the inkwell - he'll clean the blots later if there are any. Stretching, the blond yawns, cracking his neck and groaning in slight pain, grasping the nape and rubbing it. Tired eyes disappear behind heavy eyelids as he takes the first step in the direction he needs to reach. There are new knocks and it drives the knight mad. He snaps his eyes open and glares at, as he assumes, a bird…

…only to halt in his steps and blink in surprise. There is no bird sitting on the windowsill outside, but there is your figure in the frame. When you see that he has finally noticed you, a smile brightens your lovely face and a hand waves at him excitedly in greeting. Dainsleif rubs at his eyes. Is he hallucinating? He must be, he most definitely must be, his mind playing tricks on him, hinting that it's really time to go and hit the sack. While his office is indeed on the first floor, the window is way too high up from the ground - there is absolutely no way you can stand like this in front of it.

But then you call for his name and he moves quicker than his mind finally registers that yes, you are real. He is at the window in two steps, turning the handle and opening it wide, letting the night air in his stuffy office. The coolness and freshness washes over him and suddenly it becomes so much easier to breathe.

"I see you are as busy as I expected," your voice is even sweeter with the glass barrier out of the way, and Dainsleif almost loses himself in it. He'd lose himself in anything that feels like a glimpse of salvation right now.

"Y/n…" your name leaves dried lips hoarsely, and the man clears his throat to continue. "What are you doing here? No, how are you up here?"

The soft smile on your face suddenly becomes mischievous and you point at something beneath you. Not understanding a thing, your lover puts his hands on a windowsill and leans out of the window. There, keeping you seated on his shoulders, one of his knights is standing, the one Dainsleif knows all too well.

"Good evening, Captain! Or should I say night?" Halfdan is grinning, keeping his hands wrapped around your calves for security. Stunned, his superior redirects his gaze at you and you almost topple over with laughter at how flabbergasted he looks. He wants to ask something, but your lips are on his faster than any sound can leave them. Eyes slightly widen, but then just as fast the lids drop and the kiss is reciprocated. Your hands quickly and with clear impatience find their way in blond soft hair and his palms cup your face in a desperate attempt to pull you closer. He missed it, missed you to the aching of his heart, to the burning in his veins. Your touch feels intoxicating and he hasn't had a drop of liquor in weeks, drowning himself in training and work. Your skin is so warm under his cold hands, and you shiver when he runs thumbs over your cheekbones affectionately. You gasp as the fingertips accidentally brush the sides of your neck and Dainsleif seizes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, mind foggy and body hurting with nagging need…

The kiss is over way quicker than he'd love it to be and you both gasp and pant, still holding onto each other as if one of you is going to disappear. Some part deep inside the man's brain still thinks you are just a mirage, and you feel a small twinge of fear that he'll just close the window and return to his knightly duties.

You stare at each other in silence, unblinking and unmoving, chests rapidly rising and falling. Dainsleif wants to kiss you again, you want to feel his lips on you one and many more times, and just when you are ready to act upon your selfish desires, a polite cough breaks through the entrancing atmosphere.

"Hate to be third-wheeling, but I am still here," a voice from below interrupts the two of you. Heat rises to your cheeks and Dainsleif masks his own embarrassment with a groan. Slipping up in front of his subordinate like this…how unprofessional. It is Halfdan, no less, which means he'll never live his friendly teasing down.

"So…" the blond clears his throat and looks at the man and you in turn. "What's going on and why are the two of you…like this?"

"Don't ask me, Captain, I am merely offering a shoulder - or two - in whatever plan this crazy girl has…ouch!" You gently but tangibly poke his side with the tip of the shoe.

"You agreed to participate in whatever this crazy girl has in mind with no questions asked, aren't you crazy too?"

"Well," the knight chuckles, "it includes a friend of mine, surely his lovely fiancee would do him no harm."

"Fair," you huff, quickly losing all interest in this pointless banter and opting to peck the cheek of your lover, sweetly murmuring, "missed you so bad…"

Halfdan snickers when he hears his superior's shuddering exhale - whatever you told him has the usually collected man crumble because of your words.

"Hey, Halfdan, can you hoist her up?"

At that he hums, unwrapping his fingers from around your calves and putting flat palms under your feet.

"Well, if she manages to stand up and you hold her by the waist, there is a big chance she'll be sitting on your windowsill in a moment."

Dainsleif reaches for your middle section and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. With a powerful tug you are straightened up, held by your lover on one end and weight supported by Halfdan on the other, and with one more push you are lifted and securely seated where the blond wants you to with legs dangling outside.

"What an eventful night," the man dusts his hands off and rolls his shoulders a couple of times, "I deserve a raise for this, don't you think so, Captain?"

"I don't remember the protocols saying anything about honoring the knight for helping a woman sneak into their superior’s quarters," Dainsleif smirks, meanwhile helping you get inside the room, and Halfdan finally sees the man his friend is - for a moment he really thought his real self was destroyed by the monthly reports.

"Well, knight protocols maybe do not, but I am sure the woman in question has her conscience. You owe me one, remember it! But for now, have a great night love birds," saluting with a playful wink, Halfdan turns around and resumes the patrolling route Dainsleif suddenly remembers he assigned his friend to.

The window clicks closed and two lovers find their bodies in a tight embrace, almost knocking the chair nearby. Holding his breath, the blond expects the armor he put there earlier this evening to crash on the floor with disturbing loudness, but, thank whoever is listening, nothing falls.

Your lips find his again and all the worries disappear, leaving only one feeling coursing through his system - yearning. The remnants of drowsiness are gone, replaced with the sweet awareness of your proximity, chests pressed and mouths married, the union breathing life into his worn out body.

You two are kissing for what feels like eternity, as you are slowly stepping further and further into the room, until he slides back into his chair, with you descending onto his lap, arms wrapped around his neck and his hands gripping onto your hips. Soft sighs caress each other’s skin, when you draw your faces away, and share a gaze full of love and adoration, both coming back to your senses, too drunk by the intimate display of affection.

The lover of yours relaxes in the back of the chair, smiling contently and bringing one of your hands to press a kiss to your knuckles, not even once taking his eyes off of your beloved face.

“So… Can I have an explanation?”

Your fingers brush against his lips and reach to tuck a lock behind his ear, baring his jawline. Your lips are on his pale skin in a second, ghosting butterfly kisses all over the length of it.

“Mhm… You haven’t come home in a few days and I figured you were busy and, most likely, miserable. I was planning to visit you, even if it meant hours of convincing the guards to let me in - after all I am not yet an official member of your family, - but just when I was crossing the garden I spotted Halfdan and asked him if he’d assist me in getting to you. He agreed, your window was closer than the entrance, and everything else is history. But hey! - it saved me time and efforts to get inside the legal way.”

“‘The legal way’ ,” the man snorts, the hold on your waist tightening and nose burying in your hair. “You know I should actually arrest you for entering the palace without permission?”

“Then arrest me,” you suddenly say and draw your face back to look up at him. “Arrest me for the night and keep me in your office under your unwavering gaze - it’d be such a shame to go and wake the dungeon warden at such an awful hour, wouldn’t it?”

“You,” Dainsleif shakes his head in disbelief, emotions bubbling in his chest, threatening to burst out in a laughter. “Halfdan is right - you are crazy.”

“Crazy with love for you,” you declare, cupping his face with both of your palms and peppering kisses all over his lovely visage. “Crazy enough to be up with you until you finish work.”

“And then?” He quietly muses , and your lips stretch into a soft smile, that promises you’ll stay.

“I think your office's sofa is quite comfortable to fit two people.”

[ying-an-sanren]

I was a bit hesitant to whether post this here as well, bcs it does have mentions of nsfw, but truth to be told it's quite vague and far from as detailed as I would write a scenario that is only supposed to be nsfw, so we'll see we'll see.... But anyway;

(Also contains angst coming from misunderstanding and assumptions but turns into happy ending); 

One thing I really crave when I feel a bit melancholic and/or sad and/or lonely are arranged marriage AUs - the type where Xie Lian is to be wed to this mysterious king that nobody really speaks nicely about, and he expects the worst to come from the loveless marriage, but Hua Cheng only gives him the opposite. 

Imagine a scenario where Hua Cheng is this fearsome Ghost King that all of the Heavens fear. He's powerful and unpredictable, and above all he's known to despise Heavens and its officials, perhaps even hate them - after all, he destroyed 33 of them on a whim.

And when Xie Lian ascends for the third time, the gods come up with a brilliant plan. 

This prince of Xianle is more problems than he's worth, really. Just think of the poor bell and all those collpsed palaces! 

Well, here's a way he can even his debt; what if they gave him to that Crimson Rain Sought Flower as a peace offering?

They can call it a marriage - a union that would ensure that the Ghost City and Heavenly Court won't go after each others' necks as long as the married couple is still alive (as much as ghostly possible). And whatever Hua Cheng decides to do to him, why should that brother them? 

It's not like anybody particularly cares about him anyway. As said, he's more trouble than he's worth. 

For all they know, Hua Cheng can have fun torturing him or using him for his perverse pleasure to his evil heart's content, no problem.

And yes, it's practically condamning him to the life of endlesss suffering, but why should it bothered them - it's not them in his place. 

To him of course they convey the whole situation as if he's their only hope, and how only through his noble sacrifice the Heavens can finally be rid of the greatest threat. And what about his cultivation? Well, it's not like he has any spiritual powers anyway. 

In reality though, it's just them killing two birds with one stone; they get rid of Heavens' arch-pain in the arse, and also Heavens' least favorite official. 

And so Xie Lian, this (in their eyes-) worthless little god with no spiritual powers worth mentioning is sent off to become the property of the easily most powerful being, that rules over the lands where heavenly officials aren't welcome. 

The wedding ceremony is taking place in the Ghost City but none of the heavenly official's sty longer then needed - too afraid of even being this close to Hua Chengzhu. 

As soon as the pair is proclaimed a married couple, all the heavenly envoys, chosen to accompany Xie Lian and see to the whole ceremony dart out of there so fast they leave only a cloud of dust, leaving Xie Lian to his fate in the hands of the Ghost King.

Xie Lian befallen with the full weight of his situation. He's alone and helpless in a strange place, and although he had come to terms with his fate - martyrdom for the good of Heavenly Court - he can't keep his hands from trembling, as the tall man by his side leads him away from the loud noises of the wedding feats, until the only sound left is the sound of his own footsteps and the soft chiming accompanying his husband's steps. 

One would think that escaping the uproar of Ghost City's celebrations would serve to calm him down but in reality it does quite the opposite. If possible it only makes him feel more on edge. Making him think of all the thing's he's heard of his husband and his resentment towards heavenly officials. 

The anxiousness is clawing on his chest from the inside, and it's only growing stronger all the way through the quiet halls of Paradise Manor, all until they reach the door, leading to the newlyweds' room, all until the long pale fingers brush the hem of his veil.

The veil. The veil is the last curtain separating him from his predicament. 

His throat clenches at the thought of what's to come when the veil is lifted but there's one thing he understands well. He ough not do anything to Hua Chengzhu's anger - not because of himself, but because of how Hua Cheng's wrath might affect Heavens. That is the final thought, before the red curtain is lifted from his eyes, revealing the face of the Ghost King himself.

Amongst rising surface of the sea of anxiety, that had been filling him up since the moment he agreed to this marriage, there's quite an odd thought - his husband is quite handsome. Despite that, Xie Lian doesn't dare put his mind at ease - after all, looks rarely mirror one's heart.

However, in spite of his worst anticipations Hua Chengzhu does not strip him right then and there, he does not push him onto the bed, and doesn't force himself upon him. Instead he... quite politely assures him not to fear, that he's not going to do anything that Xie Lian doesn't want to, before turning towards the door.

But instead of relief, Xie Lian only feels panic. Did he do something wrong? Was the Ghost King displeased with what the Heavens gave him? The anxiety mixed with the fear of failure, and the thought of all of Heavens suffering because of him - because the Ghost King deemed him useless, and not worth to even stay in his presence, not to mention share a bed with.

And wouldn't that be true? he thought bitterly. His cultivation forbade indulging in the pleasures of flesh. Didn't the Heavens practically diddle Hua Cheng by giving him Xie Lian?

And yet as it was already a custom, he would do what he could to change that... He would let Hua Chengzhu do anything to him if it meant keeping the Heavens safe from his wrath. Even if he knew that no one in Heavenly Court would ever spare a thought for him...

During his journeys across the Mortal Realm, many a time he had heard the women on market complain about their painful, violent experience - but it's alright, he's a martial god. He can endure pain. He can endure violence... And yet he cannot hide how he's trembling, when he's sunken in the silken sheets with the waterfall of inky hair cutting his vision off of everything, leaving only the sharp-cut face and the piercing eye, howering mere inches above him.

...However, once again Hua Cheng shatters all his expectations, when instead of using Xie Lian's body for his own pleasure, his first and foremost priority is to make his husband feel good. 

A surprised whimper escapes Xie Lian's lips before he can stop himself. But soon follows another and another, as the gentle touches ignite a feeling so foreign, so frightening, and yet so nice. 

It leaves Xie Lian lost in confusion because... Up til now he thought their nights together are supposed to be pleasurable for his husband, his lord... Not for himself, he doesn't matter. And yet the perfect the way Hua Cheng treated him was such a perfect balance of gentle and rough, constantly asking whether he feels comfortable, and coaxing the kind of sounds out of him, Xie Lian never knew he was capable of.

He cried when he reached his first climax, speared open beneath his husband, a low soothing voice whispering sweet words of praise into his hair. 

He hadn't stopped crying even when both of them came down from their high. The sea of anxiety, that had been piling up inside of him over the past few days rose above its tide, making him break into sobs. 

It felt so selfish to cry for the fleeting gentle touch, because he knew that come morning, he would most probably be thrown away into the corner, like a used toy, until the moment when the Ghost King will be in mood to play with him. It felt so selfish to wish for the gentleness to last longer than a night.

Hua Cheng doesn't say anything. Instead Xie Lian feels strong arms wrap around him, bringing him close. Those arms craddle him like the most precious thing in all of three realms, and he couldn't help but let himself fall, knowing they would be there to catch him. Even if only for tonight. He stays in their embrace, until his crying fades away, and until he falls asleep.

Yet fate is a strange thing, that likes to play strange tricks on folk. The next morning Hua Cheng surprises him for the third time.

That morning Xie Lian wakes up to his head resting on a pale well-defined chest, a long slender fingers gently combing through his hair, and when he looks up, he's met with smile of fondness and an eye full of affection, beforethe familiar low soothing voice speaks up,

"Good morning, beloved."

[snugasabugbear]

D&D Pride Prompts 2022: "Cottage", Zandek / Galax

Zandek was on the far side of the lake when he heard the teleportation, a sharp crackle that managed to travel all the way from the cottage and across the waters to his large, flat ears. It stood out well against the sounds he had grown used to while alone within the forest valley. The stillness of late summer had quieted the usual rustling of the trees, leaving it to the insects and birds to fill the air with their own melodies.

It was nearing evening, and he had just reached the treeline when the stark sound of magic drew his attention from his own song he had been humming. He stopped, taking a moment to readjust the entire trunk of a tree he had been carrying on his massive shoulder, and beamed as he heard the magic end with a light flourish. There was only one person he knew who crafted his spells with such embellishments, and him being here only meant one thing.

He set off quickly along the bank, moving as fast as he could without losing his grip on the tree trunk, a feat his eagerness made quite difficult. Less than two minutes later, Zandek had reached the path leading through a patch of wild shrubs and up to the cottage’s front door. It opened, and the small figure who emerged was barely out the door before she used her wings to leap into the air directly towards him. The blue kobold covered the distance between them before he even had time to set the log down. When she collided his chest and threw her arms around his neck (barely making it over his collarbone on either side) he let the trunk roll off his shoulder and thunderously crash onto the ground behind him without a second thought. What else could he do, of course, but wrap his own colossal arms around the person he loved more than anything else in the world after two whole months apart? 

“Galax,” he breathed through a tusked smile. No words other than her name came to him to say, but it was the only one he needed. She only stopped pressing herself into his mane when he repeated it again, and turned her yellow-green eyes up towards him. He would never tire of the blissful smile she wore on her draconic face when she looked at him this way. Her sharp teeth poking from her mouth drew a chuckle out of him; they were something she had used time and time again to scare the many people who pissed her off, but to him they had been adorable for a decade now.

She put a hand on either side of his head, and he let her pull his forehead down to meet hers. They both closed their eyes, taking in nothing but each other’s presence.

“Missed you, Zan,” she whispered. She sounded tired, he thought, likely from the endless deliberation between the Circle of Eight and the Council of Waterdeep that she had been looped into some months ago. 

“I missed you too.” He hadn’t know exactly when she would be back, but he had sworn every day since she left that he would provide for her every relief he could when she returned. A throat being cleared from the open door of the cottage finally drew their attention from each other to a tall, blonde human in impeccably clean white and gold robes.

“Didn’t she cast a message to you every single day?” Merridoch teased lightly, his finger running over a small goatee beneath his chin. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s getting late and you won’t be getting rid of me until I get some of Zandek’s cooking.”

~~~

Merridoch stayed true to his word, but Zandek was more than happy to prepare a dinner only one of his oldest friends was deserving of. Once Galax’s traveling things had been put away, the three congregated in the kitchen so they could talk while Zandek prepared their meal. Normally, he was limited by the ingredients that he and Galax had managed to stock up on. What they grew themselves they had in abundance, but any finer spices, seasons, or oils were entirely dependent on what they were able to find from traders who passed through the nearest village. However, this was not a problem when they had one of the most powerful conjuration wizards on the Sword Coast at hand. Within no time, Zandek was preparing a perfect spit-roast pheasant meal for the three of them, Merridoch conjuring nearly every new component as he needed it.

“Every time I’m here,” Merridoch said as he sat back in a cushioned chair, waving his hand idly and drawing a Moonshaen batter from the aether, “I feel like I understand what the rest of the world looks like to you, Galax.” He motioned to the spacious room around them, its ceiling reaching fourteen feet above the floor and a few of its tables standing over five feet tall. While the home technically only had one floor, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for someone to think it had two from a distance based on its height. When Zandek and Galax had started building the cottage, it had been an early decision to make it large enough for Zandek to move around comfortably. He’d greatly appreciated the improvement, no longer feeling like his nearly eight foot tall form was being confined like it had been by the low, cramped ceilings of Waterdeep. The house’s furniture had similarly been built with both his and Galax’s sizes in mind, leaving it filled with things like enormous cabinets right next to tiny arm chairs, giving the cottage an almost whimsical fairytale-like look in most rooms.

Galax snorted, perched on one of the shelves near Zandek. She had changed out of the stately outfit she had arrived in, a white and gold collared robe with long, flowing sleeves, into her more typical beige and brown bodice and hood.

“Hmm,” she squinted, a slight smirk on her face. “I don’t think you’ll know the experience of being me unless you also have to deal with a cocky wizard who thinks he’s charming enough to get away with whatever he wants.”

“Galax, please. I’ve cast Clone on myself multiple times. I know exactly what it’s like to deal with a wizard who is absolutely charming enough to get away with whatever he wants.”

“What I’m hearing is that the only person who can stand you is yourself.”

“What I’m hearing is you’re jealous I can give myself the gift of my own company.”

“We’ve got entirely different definitions of ‘gift’ then, Merri.”

Zandek couldn’t hide a grin as he listened to the two. Their version of friendship was not something he fully understood, but despite the bickering, or perhaps even because of it, he knew it was friendship nonetheless. He couldn’t help being reminded of the year they had spent adventuring together in Waterdeep, all of them living out of the bar previously known as Trollskull Manor but they had renamed “Leaf’s Spirits”. In spite of everything that had happened during that year: the explosion in the alley, nearly being killed by the Xanathar on multiple occasions, even the Blood War and the battle against the renegade demi-god that had called himself “The Emperor”, he would go through all of it again to keep what it had given him.

When the two had finished their current squabble, they told him some of what had occurred during Galax’s time away in Waterdeep, though they only went into light detail on most subjects. It wasn’t that Zandek didn’t care about the current events of the city he had once called home, it was simply that most things involving higher levels of the Waterdeep government went over his head. They did spend a bit more time on their meeting with one Rhyze Ascaelia, the newly named First Paladin of Valaeros. As far as Zandek could tell, the talks had largely been about how the city would approach relying on the divine in times of need, and if such a thing should even be considered after the incident with The Emperor. From the sound of Galax and Merridoch’s testimony, not very much had been agreed upon.

Over dinner their conversation turned towards the rest of their previous adventuring party. They had magic to thank for their ability to stay in contact with everyone regularly, but a short message spell still paled in comparison to getting to see them in person. Merridoch was the one who got to visit each person most regularly, and they couldn’t have someone better to tell the others the stories of their time on their own. It was nearly midnight when he reluctantly admitted he couldn’t delay his return to Waterdeep any longer.

“A wizard’s work is never finished it seems, something I wish I could have warned my younger self of before ever trying to become one,” he joked as he finished the teleportation circle they usually kept partially finished in one of the back rooms.

“Would that have really stopped you from learning magic?” Zandek asked from the doorway, Galax on his shoulder.

“Not in the slightest,” Merridoch said without hesitation, disappearing the piece of chalk into his hand with a wink. “Don’t be strangers, you two. And if you are, I might just drop by when you least expect it.”

“That really may not be the best idea, Merridoch,” Galax wryly remarked. “Surprising a cleric sounds like a good way to get a firebolt to the face.”

Merridoch laughed, turning back to them as the teleportation circle lit up behind him and pointing at the two with both index fingers.

“Counterspell.” 

With a final smirk, he fell backwards into the circle and disappeared in a shower of golden sparks. The air crackled again as the magic dispersed, returning the room to darkness and silence other than the insects chirping outside.

“He’s truly incapable of not having the final word,” Galax sighed, shaking her head.

“I think just when he’s talking to you. How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted, honestly. Would it be unreasonable to say I would prefer fighting The Emperor again over having to argue with the stubborn fucks on that council for another month?”

“You’re a lot braver than I am to go up against them in the first place.” He leaned his head into her as he walked them both through the main sitting room. Resting on the ground in the corner since it was too heavy to hang on the wall was his Starmaul. Zandek hadn’t looked at it closely for some time, and only now noticed the light layer of dust now forming on the large blue rock that made up its head. He smiled slightly, content in letting dust continue to gather on the weapon.

“How about I put out the rest of the lights? You can head to bed and I’ll be there soon.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, though she couldn’t finish the last word without yawning. Zandek chuckled, opening the door to their bedroom for her. Their ‘bed’ wasn’t on any sort of frame. Instead, there was a small horde of blankets, furs, and pillows covering the ground beneath the far wall, illuminated by the moonlight coming through the skylight that took up over half of this room’s ceiling. Zandek knelt down and offered his hand for Galax to use as a step from his shoulder to the floor. She put a hand on his cheek before he could stand and led him down again, his forehead pressing against the white line that ran from between her horns to the end of her nose. It was something they had done for so many years now, but it still made his heart beat faster every time. “Out of everything these last two months, falling asleep without you may have been the hardest part of all.” He sighed and leaned further into her. The exact same thing had been true for him.

“I’ll make sure not to be long, then,” he whispered, and kissed the scales between her eyes. “Welcome home, Galax.”

~~~

AO3

Twitter

[brisksunrise]

Here we have a Thumbelina-based Fairy Hero magical girl.

Phineas was a rather huge man. Rather bulky, and at a height of 6′7″. He actually strongly disliked his appearance, which gave him a rather intimidating air that made it hard to approach others without scaring them or making them feel intimidated. Along with this, shopping for properly fitting clothing could be a hassle in of itself. He always felt bad taking up too much space.

Once forming a bond with a strange fairy bird, however, Phineas’ perspective of things was quickly flipped around, and ‘Fairy Hero Tiny Twinkle Dust’ was born. 

Now a literal fairy magical girl herself, Phineas sported a natural height of just a few inches tall. She was capable of increasing her size, but the max limit to this left her just shy of three feet tall. She could, however, freely manipulate the size of everything else around her, and even had the power to manipulate the distance between locations via bending of space. She even found herself capable of communicating with with animals. Despite her small size, she still retained the strength and power of her former body, allowing her to do some rather... impressive feats.

As a tiny fairy, Phineas is also capable of locating and entering small realms inhabited by other miniature beings, allowing her to mingle with and help them with various problems they could be dealing with. 

Interestingly, Phineas had a younger sister who ran a business from home making clothing for dolls.

[dokoni-mo]

Forgotten Coffee || Darth Vader x Reader

(A/N: yes hi so I wrote this for my good, good friend jojo @obiwankenobiness ,, she came up with this prompt and i ABSOLUTELY had to write it. This is one hell of a big ol fluffy fluff, so be warned! however, it might do you some good after chapter 5 of BaT :’))) speaking of which, I have tagged all my normal people for Bat/FaT,, i hope that’s okay!! one last thing - this is set after the events of RotJ and before the epilouge of FaT. I will link my masterlist below if you don’t know what im talking about/need a refresher!! I hope you all enjoy, ESPECIALLY you, Jojo. Thank you so much for being so kind, and thank you even more for being such a dear friend. ily and I hope this can make you happy, and I hope even more that it’s everything you ever wanted <3 )

Link to Masterlist : [x] 

WARNINGS: cursing, small amount of angst, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, otherwise none!! 

Key: (F/N) = first name

Word Count: ~3500

~~~

Making a house on your new home planet was the easy part. Making it a home was the challenging part. 

It had been about half a year since the fall of the Empire. You and Vader had seemingly just gotten settled into this planet, learning about its climate, weather habits, vegetation and wildlife together along the way. It was quite the beautiful place, and the perfect place to hide. 

The planet was far, far away from any known systems, and much further away from any trace of the Empire. The two of you picked the planet for this specific reason; to be away from everyone. However, this hadn’t stopped you from telling his children where the planet was, pinging them a signal once you were able to construct a communication device strong enough. 

Was it sort of a risky move? Sure, it was. But you both agreed that his children deserved to know where the two of you were. 

Just in case they run into trouble and need our help, was how you justified it. 

Vader agreed with this, but disagreed at the same time. 

Yes, he did think it was a good idea for Luke and Leia to know where their father is, but also didn’t want anyone to know of the planet. Vader was unnerved, to say the absolute least, that somehow someone would find your new home and destroy it, and him alongside. Or, even worse…

Destroy you. 

He couldn’t bear the thought. 

Even just picturing you harmed in any way… 

It brought back old ghosts to Vader. Ones he didn’t wish to remember or visit him. 

All he simply wished to do was live out the rest of his days in peace, here on this nowhere planet with you. 

He, however, was finding this difficult to do. No matter how hard he tried, tried for you, his mind would slip back into a state of unbridled worry. 

That afternoon was one of those times. 

Constructing the house was proving to be much more difficult than you had originally thought. Coming from a village of people who made their own homes out of recycled materials, you had believed that constructing a house should be not much of a problem for you. Granted, laying out the foundations of said house really wasn’t. However, what went in the house was the challenging part. 

You knew that he needed certain things to keep him alive and comfortable (his meditation pod and bacta tank), but you never believed that constructing these things would be so challenging. Yes, you were trying to juggle this feat alongside the repairs to his suit, but his accommodations were the far more stubborn and frustrating of the two tasks. With  only having the rubble of a crashed Star Destroyer to work with, you had to bullshit your way around a lot of problems you occurred. You couldn’t, however, bullshit too much, because then you would start to jeopardize his health and comfort. 

Those were two things you were not willing to gamble with. 

With the setting sun creeping in through the windows of your house, you decided that enough was enough for one day. You had battled with the filter to his bacta tank for far too long, and your muscles and bones were complaining because of it. Hobbling your way into the half-furnished living room, you sat down upon the sofa with a long, deep sigh, relief washing over you as your legs got a much needed break.

A sheen of sweat on your forehead, you pulled off your fingerless gloves as quickly as possible, stretching and clamping them as you pulled your goggles off of your face, setting them beside you. With your hands now stretched, you focused on providing some relief to your legs, rubbing your hands up and down your thighs in an attempt to soothe your muscles. 

Vader must have sensed that you had completed your work for the day, since he was quick to come in from the garden to see you. Looking up at his large, tall, black frame coming through the doorway, you smiled up at him, your cheeks pink from both the sight of your lover just barely fitting through the doorframe and your raised body temperature from your work. Closing the door behind him, Vader’s gaze went to your face. 

“Are you finished for the evening, darling?” he asked you, the bass in his voice nearly making the windows shake. 

You nodded your head, making circles with your shoulders to stretch them out, “Yeah, I am. Do you want anything for dinner? I’m not really hungry but I’ll make you whatever you want.” 

“That is quite alright.” he said, “I do not seem to have much of an appetite tonight either.” 

You ceased to stretch your shoulders at your words, the smile on your face forming into a concerned look as you gazed upon your lover. 

This was the third meal in a row that he had refused. It wasn’t a matter of that he felt bad for you making him food, no. The two of you have had that discussion long ago. You were afraid this was a far more pressing matter, and you had a good idea of what it was. 

“Love,” you said, your voice lowered to match your concern, “You haven’t eaten since dinner last night… you have to keep up your strength.” 

He stared at you for a long moment before saying anything. 

“I am aware, darling.” 

“Then how about I make you some dinner, okay?” you asked, your tone still soft, “I’ll bring it to your pod like you like it.” 

“No. That is not necessary. I do not wish to consume anything at the moment. I thank you for offering, however, dear.” 

You let out a small sigh. You loved Vader with every atom in your body, but damn was he stubborn. 

“Vee.” you said, your tone now firm, “You’re making me worried.” 

He tilted his armored head to the side, the sound of his respirator in your ears, “How so?” 

“You haven’t been eating much recently, love.” you explained, “And I’ve been noticing how much time you spend outside… Is there something you need to tell me, dear?” 

He simply just stared at you again, taking in the sight of your worried face. 

You didn’t deserve to feel such a way. You didn’t need the added stress of worrying about him. 

He decided it would be best to tell you what was happening. 

He hung his head slightly, “I… I have been troubled, darling.” 

“Troubled?” you asked. 

“Yes.” 

You eyed him for a moment. 

That was all he needed to tell you. 

“Vee, listen to me, okay?” you said, “No one is going to find us here. The only two people in the entire galaxy that know where we are is Luke and Leia, and there’s no way in hell that they would rat us out. There is literally no reason why the Empire or anyone would come here looking for us. This planet is in the middle of nowhere. We will be okay, dear. I promise.” 

He picked up his head to look at you again, making you offer him a small, warm smile in return. 

You were so breathtakingly gorgeous to him. 

Both inside and out. 

He wanted to believe you. He really did. 

And he did trust you. More than anyone he ever had, in fact. 

But, still.. 

This feeling inside him, the fear he felt…

He couldn’t shake it. No matter how hard he tried. 

Your words did soothe his nerves a certain amount, but still…

This issue would need time.

You both knew this, unconsciously. 

He only could pray that you would accept this and stop your worrying. 

He didn’t want you to stress. 

He loved you far too much for that. 

Walking his heavy, large boots over to you, he reached down to your face, giving your cheek a gentle brush with the back of his knuckles. 

Your cheeks stained pink again as he spoke, “I appreciate your concern, dear. I believe I will retire for the night.” 

Your lips parting, you weren’t expecting him to just go to bed so early and leave it at that. You wanted to protest, to get him to talk about it more, but you knew better than to press the subject. 

It took you this long for him to open up to you even a little bit. You didn’t want all your work together to go to waste. 

No. Instead, you gave him a little smile and a nod, “Okay, dear. Goodnight, I love you.” 

“I love you too, (F/N).” 

With that, he left the living room to your shared bedroom, the weight of his steps making the wooden floorboards beneath him creak and moan. You followed him with your gaze as you watched him leave, noticing how his cape fluttered in the wind behind him. 

His cape…

It was quite old now, worn even. The end of it was in tatters, and significantly lighter in hue than the rest of the material. 

It looked… sad. 

Just like he had been, before you and him came to be a thing. 

Your lips parting again, an idea shot through your mind as you processed the sight of his cape. 

An idea to you, but he would call it more of a scheme. 

A determined smile came upon your face. 

You set yourself up for a long, long night, but you didn’t care.

You would do anything, stay up countless nights, if it meant he was at peace and happy. 

Once he disappeared into your shared bedroom, you made for your fabric cabinet, setting your scheme into motion. 

~~~\

The night had been a long one, that was nothing but a fact. 

You had brewed seemingly endless amounts of caf to keep you awake, and your tongue was quite sick of the taste by the time morning had came. You didn’t even realize how long you had worked until you heard the birds chirping outside your window. Looking up from your completed project strewn across your dining table, your felt the bags underneath your eyes as you saw the sunlight creep inside your home as a welcome intruder. 

Shit. It was almost time to wake him up. 

Rising from your chair, you stretched and yawned as you made your way into the kitchen, stopping in front of the counter and pouring yourself another cup of caf. Bringing the mug to the table, you placed the cup upon it's surface before padding your feet across the hallway to your bedroom. Creaking the door open, you slowly tip-toed your way to his meditation pod, pressing your ear against the cool surface of the metal. Gently, you knocked on the metal, your voice matching as you spoke. 

“Vee.” you said, your voice quiet from how tired you were, “It’s time to wake up.” 

After a brief pause of silence, you heard the whirr of the pod placing his helmet and mask upon his head. Stepping back, you watched as the pod hissed open, another yawn escaping your lips. Stepping forward again, you reached into the metal container to your love, helping him out of it as you spoke again. 

“Morning Vee.” you said as his boots made contact with the floor. 

“Good Morning, darling.” he rumbled out, his voice deeper as it shaked off his slumber. 

Smiling tiredly up to him, you asked him your usual morning question, “What do you want for breakfast?” 

Looking down at you, Vader instantly noticed the dark circles under your eyes. A pang of concern shooting through him, he cupped your face in his large, gloved hands. 

“Darling.” he said, “Are you alright?” 

“Of course I am.” you said, “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You look as if you did not get any rest last night. Did something keep you awake?” 

You blinked at him slowly in confusion at first, your tired mind making you slow to process. Blinking again as you remembered what had kept you awake, a small smile painted your lips. 

“Yeah.” you said, “Something did.” 

He was definitely worried now, “What was it?” 

“A surprise!” 

He tilted his head at this. He certainly was not expecting that. 

“A surprise?” 

“Yeah!” you exclaimed, taking one of his hands into your own, “Come see!” 

Pulling him out of the bedroom and over to the kitchen, you stopped him once he was in front of the dining table. Taking a few steps in front of him, you picked up his surprise from the table’s surface, holding it in your tired, groggy grasp as you presented it up to him with a dopey smile on your face. 

He was shocked, but in quite a good way. 

A cape?

“I made you a new cape!” you said proudly, showing him the front and back of the cloth. 

The new cape was a medium-toned blue, large enough to fit across his broad shoulders, and long enough to just barely miss the ground as he stood. At the bottom of the cape was a thick strip of golden cloth, an intricate pattern woven into it, and the stitching was noticeably hand-done. 

It was...

Perfect. 

You smiled down at the fabric as you spoke, “I just thought that giving you a little change would do you some good. I know we just got your new hands to work, and we finally got some privacy here on this planet, so I thought I would also make this as a little celebration gift.” 

You turned your gaze to him as you continued, a smile still on your tired face, “Also, your old one was really raggedy, so I made you this new one. You can tell me if you don’t like it, though. I won’t be offended. I know it’s kinda out of your style…” 

Vader was speechless. 

Vader was hardly ever speechless, but he simply could not comprehend the sight before him. 

This girl, who he loved oh, so dearly with every fiber, every ounce of his being…

Made something so beautiful, so perfect…

For him. 

She stayed up all hours of the night, slaving away at this cape…

For him. 

How.

How did he get so damn lucky? 

How did he deserve any of this? 

This house? This cape? 

You? 

After everything he had done? 

He was sure right then that he was the luckiest man in the galaxy. 

Realizing that he still hadn’t said anything, Vader responded to you. 

“My dear,” he said, his head tilted to the side, “I shall adorn anything you make with pride.” 

Another dopey smile coming onto your exhausted face, a yawn came out of your throat, “Really? You like it?” 

“Yes.” 

You let out a tiny squeal of happiness, “I’m so glad! I’ll iron it after breakfast and help you put it on.” 

Vader watched as you folded up his new cape and set it on the table, right next to the cup of caf you poured earlier. Picking up his gaze, he watched your much smaller frame begin to pad your feet into the kitchen.

“Speaking of breakfast,” you said over your shoulder, opening the cabinets to see what kinds of ingredients you had available, “What would you like?” 

Vader said nothing, not moving one muscle as he stared at you. 

He was… in awe. 

How did you do it? He could visibly see the lack of sleep you had gotten, yet you still pressed on. You asked him what he wished to consume without a second thought, ignoring the fact that you were dead tired. 

You were so beautiful. So strong. 

He couldn’t fathom how he deserved you. How you stayed so strong despite how life had been so cruel to you. 

He couldn’t begin to fathom how the universe could make such a perfect human being. 

You…

You were the only one in so, so long that saw Vader not as a machine nor a weapon…

But a person. A living, breathing, person. 

You did everything for him. You made him happy, you calmed his nerves, you soothed his anger, you listened to his rambles, you made him a house, you helped him to escape the clutches of the Empire....

You saved his life. 

…

He loved you. 

He loved you so, so much. 

He would never be able to find the words to tell you just how much he did. 

“Vee.” he heard you say, snapping him out of his awe-struck state, “You’re staring again. Did you hear me? What would you like for breakfast? I’ll make you anything you want.” 

He didn’t want anything to consume that morning. 

Nothing at all. 

He only wanted you. To be close to you, to hold you tight and never let you go. 

And he planned to do as such. 

Stepping forward across the expanse of food flooring that separated the two of you, Vader watched as a confused expression glinted across your face. You asked him what he was doing, but he gave you no response. Instead, he leaned down closer to your height, wrapping his big, strong arms around your waist. Making sure that you were secure in his grasp, he hoisted you up, slinging you over one of his strong shoulders. 

A deep pink blush spread over your cheeks, “V-Vee, what-” 

Ignoring your confusion once more, Vader carried you back into your shared bedroom, making sure that you were comfortable yet secure in his grasp. Pushing open the door to the bedroom with his boot, Vader carried you over to the bed in the center of the room, making the blush on your cheeks deepen in hue. 

Expecting to get thrown onto the bed’s surface, you were surprised when your love sat upon the bed, his weight making the wood and mattress below groan. Soon after sitting down, Vader moved you so that you were seated in his broad lap, your legs straddling his strong, large waist. Snaking up his arms under your own, Vader pulled you close to his huge chest, getting you as close to him as possible.

Your tired brain making you slower to process what was happening, Vader took it upon himself to help you along, resting his armored chin on your small shoulder. 

“Hold me, darling.” he said, his deep voice much softer than normal. 

Feeling your heart swell in your chest, you slowly wrapped your arms around his armored neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder armor as you held him tightly. 

Vader was much much larger than you, but it made him all the better to cuddle with. His lap was surprisingly soft, despite how muscular he was beneath all the leather, and his grasp around you was so, so soothing. Closing your eyes peacefully, you breathed in his scent as he rubbed one of his hands up and down your back. His gloved hand was quite large, and nearly engulfed your entire lower back. 

He was so gentle with you. It soothed you to no end.

You felt yourself start to drift off to sleep, feeling so safe and secure in his arms. Before you could, however, you heard his deep voice speak to you. Since you were pressed to close to his chest, you could feel the rumble of his voice’s bass from within. 

“I love you endlessly, darling.” he said, his voice still much softer than normal, “Are you aware of this?” 

You were far too tried for words, so you simply nodded your head against his shoulder is response. 

Vader let out a satisfied rumble. He could feel every single one of his nerves and fears melt away as he held you, soothing him to no end. Picking up his head from your shoulder, he pressed the triangle mouthpiece of his mask into your hair, making a small smile appear on your lips. 

His version of a kiss, you took it. 

He rubbed your back with his hand once more, speaking to you again, “Rest easy, darling. I shall continue to hold you until you awaken. Forget about your tasks and rest with me for the day. I shall keep you warm and protect you from all harm, for the rest of time. I love you, (F/N), my darling. You have made my life complete. I wish for nothing more than to be beside you for the rest of my days. You are my entire life, (F/N), my everything. I love you so, so much.” 

A small smile still on your face, you held onto your love tight as you felt yourself drift off into sleep. As he promised, Vader held onto you for as long as you slept, nothing but thoughts of you in his mind. 

It was a beautiful sight, but one that no other man should ever see. A reformed sith lord, holding onto the love of his life on the planet they had escaped to, in the house that she had built, far, far away from any prying eyes, from any harm. 

Your forgotten cup of caf upon the table filled the air with it's scent. 

That day, this house was no longer just a house. 

But a home. 

~~~

TAGS: @spaghetti-666 , @soullesstaco , @arsonistvoyager , @robin-obsessed , @glitter-rian , @captainrexstan , @easterncryptid , @deviatedwinter , @roseangel013bf , @danicalifxrnia , @dartheldur , @finest-trashbag , @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii , @elongatedmusk-rat , @shads121 , @muffinbeliever  , @sakuramadae​ , @padme-parker​ , @khapikat222 , @the-official-memester​ , @rens-angel​ , @yvette1703 , @missmannequin​ , @breakfastpizzagalaxy​ , @scarletsinsandsnowwithetragedies​ , @clearnostolgia , @ahs0ka-skywalker​ , @teddyteddy​

[thelittlestcheshire]

even if you have to cry, don't let your crown fall

a love letter to luxor’s ches elswood

Well, it’s finally time that I feel ready to post this, and while I’m aware it may be bittersweet with my upcoming departure, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Today I present to you a three hour Ches playlist, divided into sections and covering her entire time at Luxor, from when I first picked her up in June of 2019 all the way to now. There’s quite a few plot references, and small (and not as small) references to other muses throughout, especially when it comes to Elliot, so keep an eye out for those as well!

I’d like to thank Lex for giving me the idea to make these, and her support throughout the process because without her, these playlists wouldn’t even exist. And thank you to everyone who has gone on this journey with us, while I’m sorry I need to dip out early after this event to focus on my health, I love y’all so much.

The standard Ches tws apply (poor mental health, alcoholism, etc etc), and anything I think may be a bit abnormal / section exclusive is noted on the sections.

twist me like a key, then you open the lock | pre-luxor:

the section of time before I played Ches at Luxor, very James heavy. additional tws: Death (Sign of the Times), Toxic relationships (nothing explicit tho)

Sign of the Times (Jasmine Thompson) [ Remember everything will be alright. We can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here. ] // Sweet Ophelia (Zella Day) [ Singing like it's a full moon, careless now that he has you. Turns you on to the right songs, promises that you're hooked on. ] // Couple of Kids (Maggie Lindemann) [ Now I'm fallin' heavily, recklessly, trying not to lose my sensibility; but gravity, it pulls me into you. ] // Glowstick (Sofia Karlberg) [ You play me like a line-up; long con, you make me wise up. ] // Crying in the Club (Camila Cabello) [ Ain't no crying in the club, hey, hey, let the beat carry away, your tears as they fall, baby. Ain't no crying in the club, hey, hey, with a little faith, your tears turn to ecstasy. ] // Ember (Katherine McNamara) [ Reignite; you lost your grip on me, and now I blaze wild and free. ]

nobody shows up unless i'm paying, have a drink on me cheers to the failing | summer & fall 2019:

the first time I was at Luxor playing ches, from June - October 2019

7 rings (Ariana Grande) [ Been through some bad shit, I should be a sad bitch. Who woulda thought it'd turn me to a savage? ] // I'm a Mess (Bebe Rexha) [ “It's gonna be a good, good life;” that's what my therapists say. ] // OMG (Little Mix) [ Oh my gosh, I did it again. He said I broke his heart, it keeps happening. ] // Only Angel (Harry Styles) [ Couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short, but I think that's what I like about it. ] // LA Devotee (Panic! At The Disco) [ Drinking white wine in the blushing light, just another LA Devotee. ] // Woman Like Me (Little Mix feat. Nicki Minaj) [ I made a few mistakes, I regret it nightly. I broke a couple hearts that I wear on my sleeve. ]

all of this emptiness i've been sharing, it never comes when i want it to | winter 2019:

the period of time Ches went home to be with her family and was away from luxor additional tws: vomiting (Habits (Stay High))

Carmen (Lana Del Rey) [ Darlin’, darlin’, doesn't have a problem lyin’ to herself ‘cause her liquor’s top shelf ] // How You Remind Me (Avril Lavigne) [ And I've been wrong, I've been down, been to the bottom of every bottle. These five words in my head scream, "Are we havin' fun yet?" ] // Playing God (Paramore) [ This is the last second chance (I'll point you to the mirror). I'm half as good as it gets (I'll point you to the mirror). I'm on both sides of the fence (I'll point you to the mirror). Without a hint of regret, I'll hold you to it ] // Habits {Stay High} (Tove Lo) [ Staying in my play pretend, where the fun ain't got no end. Oh, can't go home alone again, need someone to numb the pain. ] // Bedroom Window (The Pretty Reckless) [ As I look out of my bedroom window; is it all real or just fantasy? I have lost touch with what makes me human, I have lost touch with reality. ] // Impossible Year (Panic! At The Disco) [ There's no sunshine, this impossible year; only black days and sky grey and clouds full of fear. ]

i wouldn't say you got the best of me, i'd say you got me somewhere in between | spring 2020:

Ches’s return to Luxor, and the months following leading up to her mass text about Leo’s dad following the Lake Bash

3 O'Clock Things (AJR) [ Would you go running if you saw the real me? Maybe you'd love 'em, yeah, maybe you'd feel me. ] // Wild Heart (Bleachers) [ Well, everything has changed and now I can't tell what matters. I will find any way to your wild heart. ] // Rise (Katy Perry) [ When the fire's at my feet again and the vultures all start circling. They're whispering, “you're out of time.” But still, I rise. ] // Don't Stop Me Now (Queen) [ I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars on a collision course. I am a satellite, I'm out of control. ] // Princesses Don't Cry (CARYS) [ Girls, so pretty and poised and soft to the touch, but God made me rough. Girls, so heavy the crown, they carry it tall, but it's weighing me down. ] // Save Rock And Roll (Fall Out Boy feat. Elton John) [ You are what you love, not who loves you. In a world full of the word 'yes', I'm here to scream... no, no (no, no). ] // Making a Monster out of Me (Katherine McNamara) [ And I don't know how to recollect the morals that I always did possess. Don't know where its leading me. ] // We Don't Have To Dance (Andy Black) [ You're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself. I'll break it to you easy. This is hell, this is hell. ]

tonight it's alright, i can see the tunnel at the end of these lights | summer 2020:

summer camp and the months leading up to a new school year

Night Owls Early Birds (Foxes) [ A wild fire inside me burns. Why do I look like I'm wear for worse? Save me, save me, go underneath the ground. ] // Too Much (Carly Rae Jepsen) [ When I party, then I party too much. When I feel it, then I feel it too much. When I'm thinking, then I'm thinking too much. When I'm drinking, then I'm drinking too much. ] // Royal Blue (Alberto Rosende) [ My regrets are a shade around my neck I know. It's torturous, and there's a burden that I can't let go. ] // Who You Selling For (The Pretty Reckless) [ And when Roger showed me I was building a wall. I've been waiting a long time, waiting a long time, waiting a long time, waiting for it to fall. ] // Heavy (Linkin Park feat. Kiiara) [ You say that I'm paranoid, but I’m pretty sure the world is out to get me. It’s not like I make the choice to let my mind stay so fucking messy. ] // The Archer (Taylor Swift) [ I've been the archer, I've been the prey; screaming, “who could ever leave me,” darling. But who could stay? ] // Everybody Lost Somebody (Bleachers) [ And there's a reason I wake up alone in strange places, a reason I see myself in a million faces, a reason I can't stop it all from changing. So come on, motherfucker, you survive, you gotta give yourself a break. ]

no cameras catch my muffled cries. i counted days, i counted miles | fall and winter 2020(/21):

a new school year, from the start of the semester right until the aftermath of the kings’ party

So It Goes (Guards) [ I don't know who I am but I do know who I'm not. I'm just looking for a friend, I'm still searching for the plot. ] // Wasabi (Little Mix) [ Love to hate me, praise me, shame me; either way, you talk about me. ] // Think Before I Talk (Astrid S) [ Maybe I should think before I talk; I get emotional and words come out all wrong. Sometimes I'm more honest than I want. ] // Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince (Taylor Swift) [ No cameras catch my muffled cries. I counted days, I counted miles to see you there, to see you there. And now the storm is coming, but... ] // Sober Up (AJR feat. Rivers Cuomo) [ Won't you help me sober up? Growin' up, it made me numb, and I wanna feel somethin' again. ] // The Show Must Go On (Queen) [ Empty spaces, what are we living for? Abandoned places, I guess we know the score, on and on. Does anybody know what we are looking for? ] // Waiting For A Friend (The Pretty Reckless) [ My head is like a prison cell, I'm all by myself. I'm waiting for my friend to come and break me out. ] // Sober (Demi Lovato) [ I'm sorry that I'm here again, I promise I'll get help. It wasn't my intention, I'm sorry to myself. ] // Eight (Sleeping At Last) [ I'm just a kid who grew up scared enough to hold the door shut, and bury my innocence. But here's a map, here's a shovel, here's my Achilles' heel. ]

i got this handled, i don't need rescuing | spring and early summer 2021:

ches’s progress from the end of march until now

The Man (Taylor Swift) [ I’m so sick of running as fast as I can, wondering if I'd get there quicker if I was a man. And I'm so sick of them coming at me again, 'cause if I was a man, then I'd be the man. ] // Princess (FLETCHER) [ But we're all going through it, so why do we do it? Why do we hide? ] // Humpty Dumpty (AJR) [ If I can't breathe, then you can't see, but aren't you excited that I'm giving you the best me? ] // My Mistake (Gabrielle Aplin) [ Am I jaded? Am I meant to feel this way?  I'm a loser, getting beat by my own game. But if I falter, well, at least it was my mistake. ] // The Climb (Miley Cyrus) [ The struggles I'm facing, the chances I'm taking; sometimes might knock me down, but no, I'm not breaking. ] // breathin (Ariana Grande) [ Some days, things just take way too much of my energy. I look up and the whole room's spinning. You take my cares away. ] // Clean (Taylor Swift) [ Ten months sober, I must admit just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it. Ten months older, I won't give in, now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it. ] // Not a Pop Song (Little Mix) [ A hamster on a wheel that's how it feels tryna be real. These unrealistic expectations said we'll make it if we fake it. ] // Queen (Loren Gray) [ Eyes on me like I'm a prize but you better recognize I'm not your angel 'cause I belong to me. ] // The Cure (Little Mix) [ This happiness was always inside me but Lord, it took a minute to find me. ]

[beeblackburn]

Ghosts for the fandom ask as well! 👀

The first character I ever fell in love with: Thomas Thorne. “Ah, she’s gone” remains one hell of a delightful line delivery. And his following melodrama was just amazing to sit through. I love dramatic™ bitches.

A character that I used to love/like, but now do not: I... honestly don’t know? Like, I generally like every character in this series and that’s not particularly a small feat. I suppose if I had to choose... the Captain or Mike, and only because I’ve come to realize their later more self-centered/forcible moments were there from the get-go, from the Captain’s complaining about Fanny’s screaming and Mike taking out a loan without talking about it with Alison while she was in a coma, not necessarily because I dislike them.

A ship that I used to love/like, but now do not: Ummm, none! I generally agree with the ships in this series. 

My ultimate favorite character™: Thomas Thorne, he usually guarantees a laugh with any line reading, he looks good, he usually holds back before his crush on Alison gets too creepy, The Thomas Thorne Affair and Free Pass helps explain his more romantic tendencies and the former genuinely floored me with some of its twists and that last revelation broke my damn heart. Poor Isabelle and Thomas. They lost so much because the first Lord Button was a selfish arse. And I adore that Thomas was the first one who sung along In the Bleak Midwinter with Alison. I hope all the best for him.

Prettiest character: Kitty or Thomas. Kitty’s more my type, and I love her dress, but Thomas has those floofy locks to die for.

My most hated character: FUCK LORD BUTTON THE FIRST WITH A MUSKET BALL. That being said, I don’t come out of the Christmas Special respecting Mike’s sisters. And, depending on how Kitty’s backstory goes, her sister’s set to replace Lord Button the First. Honestly, I feel like I come out of this series hating cousins and sisters.

My OTP: Mike/Alison. Aside from some hiccups, Mike’s genuinely supportive and follows Alison’s lead and Alison grounds Mike’s eccentrics or flights of fear. They’re not friction-less, but they feel lived-in, have little jokes with each other, and are a couple who love each other and work through their problems.

My NOTP: Yeah, still none.

Favorite episode: Man, there’s a spoil of riches in Season 2 alone, but I keep revisiting Happy Death Day, Getting Out, About Last Night, Redding Weddy, The Thomas Thorne Affair, and Bump in the Night. If I had to narrow it down... The Thomas Thorne Affair, Bump in the Night or The Ghost of Christmas all vie for favorite.

The Thomas Thorne Affair is the best flashback episode Ghosts got, given it’s got a ton of narrative room to breathe around the death in question (I love Redding Weddy, but I wanted more scenes between the Captain and Lieutenant Havers), allowing for multiple perspectives to see the death, and I love how many holes get plugged up by POVs like Kitty’s or get misdirected off-track like Robin’s or get made into a more interesting imaginary scenario like the Captain’s (real talk, his take never fails to make me laugh, bless you, Captain). It’s all hilarious (that bird getting shot by Thomas’ gun as he falls is my second-guiltiest laugh of the series) but it also speaks to a very real idea of our memories: that we edit, we revise, we look back with nostalgia or clean up the messier bits. Add in the twists and the Mike subplot and it all adds up to a tragic tale whose theme is about how another man’s utter selfishness is capable of destroying a relationship between two lovers through violence, either directly or by proxy. It’s delightfully hilarious, but it hits so hard and Thomas’ words about the truth making it all worse twists my heart.

I feel Bump in the Night is the funniest episode Ghosts’ got. It’s not particularly serious, there are no real stakes, given one of the burglars is terrible at theft, it’s just a bunch of total morons fumbling through a breaking-and-entering and it’s amazing. Fanny complaining that the burglars are terrible at theft, the Ghosts calling for 999, only to not think through how to communicate, them trying to communicate with Mike via a creepy doll’s eyelids, Alison immediately realizing Mike’s in the wardrobe, Julian writing “2 of them” instead of 2 like a non-dumbass, MIKE IN THE SUIT OF ARMOR, it’s all amazingly funny, but at the same time, it’s all underlined by the emotional truth that Alison, Mike, and the Ghosts have come far enough that the Ghosts are willing to help them out because they like them, instead of scaring them off or causing problems like in Season 1. Alison verbalizes it, but the more touching scene is how she thanks Robin, the Ghost that first scared her because he had nothing better to do, for getting Barclay to help them and he just nods humbly back. This episode is full of idiots, but it’s got a decent amount of heart in it that gives it weight beyond the laughs.

The Ghost of Christmas probably has one of my favorite theses on why we endure the holidays with our families, despite it never being as magical as can be. There’s stuff to nitpick like how I don’t like how Mike’s sisters delight in Mike throwing a fit, going so far to film it, and some of Julian’s scenes with the baby run a bit long for my taste, but I really do like Julian’s summation of Christmas: that it’s perfect because it’s not perfect and that we should be grateful of any time we spend with family, because it will all go away someday, as the ghosts can testify. We take the good with the bad. There are some delightful humor bits like the Ghosts needling the Captain and Thomas to join in on Twister, Fanny looking up at the tall tree from the seeds they planted, Mike’s dad having a chainsaw, and Julian waving off his daughter being a MP of the Green Party (screw you, Julian, she rules because of that), but there’s also the theme of family in the emotional scene. When Mike’s dad tells him they’re overbearing because someday they won’t get to do things for him, there’s a heartwarming irony that, even past death, the Ghosts are there for Alison, their newest family member. This episode made me realize just how... barren Alison’s biological family connections are from the first episode’s mentioning that there were no other direct relatives. And In the Bleak Midwinter is a gorgeous song that cuts as a certain truth: just because others can’t see your family doesn’t make them any less real to you. 

Saddest death: Thomas dying all alone at the tree, no one living by his side, feeling the sting of being rejected one final time at the end because his cousin was a selfish arse who capitalized on a woman he didn’t love for her estate? God, this bears repeating, but fuck Lord Button the First.

Favorite season: Oh, definitely Season 2. I love Season 1, but I’m not a huge fan of second-hand embarrassment and seeing Alison get embarrassed by her reacting to ghosts that others can’t see made me wince quite a few times. I much prefer Season 2′s handling of Alison and the Ghosts and how they work.

Least favorite season: Season 1. I don’t take to the more second-hand embarrassment humor of that season, but I do love every episode except Free Pass. It’s still a great season with episodes like Happy Death Day, Moonah Ston, and Getting Out. Special mention to Happy Death Day, which was the first time I realized Ghosts could balance the comedy and the darkness with sincere emotion without them undercutting each other at the wrong time.

Character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate: Now? Not really. In the first season though, I sometimes found Kitty a little too grating, possessive, and intrusive. Not that I don’t get where she’s coming from, her childhood sounds lonely and painful in ways she doesn’t fully comprehend and ghosthood hasn’t exactly made her any less lonely in some ways, most times I understand, but sometimes, like at the start of Getting Out where I feel she really should pump the brakes. 

That being said, her backstory’s gonna break me. I just know it.

My ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: Fanny or the Captain. They really can be abrasive or domineering in that first season, the Captain steamrolling over Pat from time to time and Lady Fanny’s nitpicking and homophobia, but I do get why they are that way and they do get better.

My ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: Kitty, who deserves all the blankets for that childhood. Mary, who likely has a mental illness and got burnt because of that. Humphrey, who doesn’t deserve being ignored by the Ghosts.

My ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: Thomas/Alison. Thomas, sometimes, your behavior can get a little too much regarding Alison. That first (thankfully only) peep at her in the shower, I know you’ve been frustrated for years as a Ghost, but noooooooo. That being said, when Thomas respects her boundaries and is a supportive friend (have I mentioned how touching In the Bleak Midwinter is?), I dig them.

My ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship: Pat/Cap. Not that I don’t get it, and it promises heartwarming feels and heartbreak (Pat moving on after they hook up and Captain having to watch another leave him again, but this time, Captain got to admit his feelings before the leaving) and they are rather adorable together, but I’m more waiting for the narrative to acknowledge the possibility before launching myself into the ship full-time.

[minky-for-short]

An Unexpected Bond

A Perc’ahlia fic feat Fae!Percy <33

Special thanks to my betas @mollymauk-teafleak and @spiky-lesbian <33

-----

Vex pulls her cloak tightly around her as she keeps her pace into the deepest parts of the woods, Trinket following closely, letting out small groans of unease as the trees grow denser. Vex smiles assuringly as she pats his head.

“It’s alright, Trinket” she soothes, looking ahead as her dark vision allows her to catch sight of a clearing surrounded by tall, ominous looking trees, “Remember, we’re doing this for Vax..” Trinket responds with his ears flattening sadly against his head, and Vex can’t blame him..

Between the two of them, Vax had always been the one who was stuck in bed more often with a cold or fever when they were children. She remembers spending warm, sunny days inside, sitting beside her brother’s bed, entertaining him with stories and feeding him soup when their mother was in town buying more medicine, because the thought of playing in the woods without her brother was just unthinkable to her younger self. Even when they were taken to Syngorn to live with their father, she would sneer at the clerics who would try and get her to leave his room so they could treat his fever. By the time they were traveling on their own, Vex always made sure to have enough money set aside to buy medicine, just to be safe. And even when money was tight, a wink and showing off the right amount of cleavage was always enough to make sure her brother had enough medicine to last through whatever sickness had come over him in the colder weather.

One thing she could always count on though was that no matter how ill he became, her brother would bounce back from it with determination and good humor.

Until now..

Even Pike, one of their closest friends and the best cleric within the entirety of Tal’Dorei, was puzzled when he had just collapsed. Burning to the touch when he had no sign of any ailment beforehand, and even as he tried to wave off her concern and that of their friends, he could barely walk with her assistance. In the end, he ended up having to be carried back into bed by Grog. And that’s where he’s been confined for the past two weeks. 

Vex had done her damndest to share her brother’s optimism that this was a seasonal fever that would pass, but days of seeing the same furrowed expression on Pike’s face as her magic does nothing more than provide a brief reprieve from this ailment, the worry on Keyleth’s when none of the herbs she’d mixed into a medicine seem to take...it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain hopeful. 

Two days ago, when Vax fell into a coma, Vex finally became desperate. All that Pike and Keyleth have been able to do is keep him stable, and while she will never be grateful enough for all their efforts, “stable” wasn’t good enough for her. 

She wanted her twin. Awake and alive as he’s always been.

And she was prepared to sell her own soul to do it.

While her friends convinced her that selling her soul would not go over well with her brother, they did share in her determination to find any other means to save their rogue.

And that’s when Scanlan shared a story he had heard while he was traveling with his old performance group.

A forest, far north in the continent, that was said to be home to a rift in a clearing in the middle of the forest, where the plane between the Material Plane and the Feywilds was the weakest. Scanlan had never bore witness to it himself, but he had heard tales from those who lived close to those woods about a figure who would appear there every so often, only exposing themselves to those who caught their interest.

What the being looked like, however, seemed to vary on whoever told the tale. Some would say they took the shape of a shadowy creature, others would say it took the appearance of a man in a bird-shaped mask. Regardless, one thing remained consistent: this figure would make a deal with whoever caught their interest. The price of the deal would vary, depending on what was being asked.

So Vex had no idea what to expect if she came across this figure, she may end up selling her soul after all.

But it didn’t matter. She would do whatever it took to save her brother. 

--

Keyleth accompanied her and Trinket while the others stayed behind to look after Vax, her Tree Stride turned what would be a week long trip into mere seconds, but that was the easy part. Vex made her agree to stay put while she and Trinket travelled into the thick of the woods alone.

And that’s where they were now.

Vex stepped into the clearing with the briefest moment of hesitation, not sure what to expect. But she holds onto her resolve as she moves further in until she’s standing in the center.

“Hello?” she calls hesitantly. Nothing. “Hello?” She calls again, her voice stronger, more determined. She received no response besides the wind blowing through her hair. Had she been paying closer attention, she would’ve realized that there was no sway to the trees surrounding her. 

Instead she felt herself growing annoyed by the thought of being ignored. “Now you listen, whatever you are, I don’t give a damn if you think I’m worthy or not. I came here for a reason, and I am not leaving until I get what I need!”

“Stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” A warm voice chuckles near her ear causes her to quickly jump away and draw her bow and arrow, “I like that.”

Vex’s dark vision allows her to see the figure that wasn’t there a moment ago, wrapped in shadows, a bird-shaped mask obscuring their face, making both versions of the stories true, but she doesn’t lower her weapon. “Who are you? Are you the creature that makes deals?”

“I see you don’t have much experience in dealing with the fae” the figure converses, clearly not phased by an arrow being aimed right at him, “We don’t give our names to anyone; far too much power to give to a stranger.”

“You’re fae?” Vex confirms, her eyebrows furrowing curiously before remembering, “Right...I heard rumors that the veil between the Feywild and this plane was weak in these woods.”

“Not the entire woods, my dear,” The fae corrects politely, “Just this particular clearing. Why that is, I’m not entirely sure. It probably existed for years before I happened upon it, and as a naturally curious being, I decided to see where it led. And now here we are, having a nice conversation under the moonlight.”

Vex tilts her head at the fae, an eyebrow raised curiously as she slowly lowers her bow, “Do you give this spiel to everyone who finds their way to your clearing? Or do you just like the sound of your own voice?” 

She is answered by an amused chuckle. “You might be the first mortal who didn’t bow before me like I was some type of deity.” He takes a step closer to her, the mask hiding a smile, “I think I might like you.”

“Enough to help me with my problem?” she asks intently, and for the first time since the fae approached, she can see flashes of blue from within the eye sockets of the mask.

“For the right price.”

Vex takes a deep breath, steeling her resolve, “Before I ask you of anything, I refuse to deal with a person who hides their face, fae or not.”

The fae tilts his head curiously, impressed by her wording, “Very good, my dear lady,” he nods in approval, “I can’t tell you how many mortals have made the mistake of asking to see my face.”

Vex eyes him suspiciously, “and why is that?”

“Because then I can say ‘No’.” He answers simply, “You must choose your words carefully when dealing with the fae...and since you have…” he trails off as he lifts a pale hand to his face, and Vex watches with fascination as the shadows dissipate as he pulls the mask away, and Vex is struck speechless by what stands before her now.

At first glance, Vex would think he’s an elf, but as she studies him more carefully, she can see his features are more exaggerated. His ears for instance; longer and more pointed than that of a full-blood elf. His skin was pale as moonlight and seemed to have the same serene glow, and his short white hair seemed to flow in a breeze that didn’t exist. But what Vex found herself most drawn to were his eyes, crystal clear and a shade of blue that she’s never seen before. She could sense a warmth hiding behind the steely gaze.

He was without a doubt the most beautiful man she’s ever seen.

“Now then, my dear..” The fae brings her back into focus, conjuring two chairs into existence as he looks at her with intent interest, “what can I help you with?”

Vex hopes that the dark cover of night can hide her blush as she takes a seat in the chair across from him, setting her weapons down beside her, “You seem to be quite powerful, Mr. Fae, tell me...are you powerful enough to cure someone who is ill?”

The fae hums as he folds his arm, his eyes closing as he contemplates, “It depends...this ‘someone’, are they dear to you?”

“Yes.” Vex answers immediately, “He’s...he’s my brother. My twin. He’s had many illnesses before, and he’s always recovered from them, but this…” She clenches her nails into her palms, “..this is different. We’ve tried everything: clerics, medicines, herbs, spells...nothing is working. I’m afraid this might be my only option left.”

“I see..” the fae hums, his blue eyes softening as he looks up at her. “Well, I truly hope your brother knows how fortunate he is to have a sister who will go such great lengths for him…” he pauses, thinking, “Very well. I will heal him.” 

Vex’s eyes light up, “You will?” She lets out a shuddering sigh of relief,, “thank the Gods…”

“Don’t..” the fae interrupts her, “thank me just yet. We still need to discuss your price.”

Vex rolls her eyes slightly as she sits back against her chair, “Of course we do..” she puts on what her friends call her ‘business’ face, when she’s getting ready to haggle with a merchant, “so what is it that you want?”

The fae grins at her as he thinks, “well, let us see...you are asking me to save the life of one of your loved ones...so I believe the only fair price would be to give me one of them. Perhaps, ah yes…” his eyes gleam in the moonlight, “...your firstborn child.”

Vex blinks at him, and she can’t suppress the breath of laughter that leaves her, “Seriously? You’re going the “firstborn child” route?”

The fae shrugs, “The classics are classics for a reason. A life that is nearly ending for a life that has just begun; a fair trade if you ask me?”

“But I’m not even pregnant.” Vex points out, “and what if I never am? The life I lead isn’t exactly ideal for raising a child.”

“An interesting point..” the fae hums, “Well, let us consider it a wager then..” Vex narrows her eyes at him, “..let us say you have...three years to give me your child. Otherwise our deal will become null, and your brother will go back to being on death’s door.”

Vex is ready to snarl at him, to jam one of her arrows in his throat for trying to force her hand by threatening her brother. But something stops her, and she realizes what it was: his wording. He says she has three years to give him her child...yet he doesn’t seem to realize he just gave her the power to choose who the father will be.

And as she glances him over, she decides that while he might present himself as a pretentious asshole...she can’t pretend she isn’t attracted to him.

So she smiles and folds her hands on her lap, “Sounds like an interesting wager. I agree to this deal: you save my brother, and in exchange, I will give you my first child.”

She sees the slight shift in his expression, and she can tell that this isn’t the way these types of deals usually go with him. Perhaps he was expecting her to fall to her knees and beg that she gives him anything but her hypothetical child. But she is also certain that no one has ever tried to twist a fae’s words before.

But his questioning look quickly fades as he smiles at her, holding out his hand, “then we have an accord. By the time you return home, you will be greeted by the sight of your brother: healthier than he’s ever been.”

Vex looks down at his waiting hand for the briefest of moments, and then takes it, and she can feel the magic swirl around their joined hands as their contract manifests into existence. When she pulls back, she looks over her hand; no physical mark, but she knows that the magic is there, and somehow, she knows that her brother is waking up from his illness-induced coma.

“Thank you.” she smiles, sincerely, looking up at the fae, “Well, seeing as I have three years to fulfill my end of the bargain..when would you like to start trying?”

For the first time since he manifested in front of her, the fae looks confused, “I...admit, my dear, I’m not entirely sure what you mean?”

Vex blinks at him, feigning innocent obliviousness, “Well, I promised that I would give you my first child, correct?”

“Y-yes?”

“But you never specified who I had the child with..”

A minute passes. Another one passes, and Vex will forever relish the look of flustered realization that fills the fae’s expression as he realizes exactly how he messed up.

But she will also remember the bright laughter that comes out of him once his shock passes.

“You clever, tricky woman.” the fae breathes between fits of laughter, “Serves me right for underestimating you.”

Once Vex realizes that she wasn’t going to be subjected to archfey-level fury, she begins to relax, and laughs with him. “You’d be surprised how many do.”

“Well,” the fae chuckles, looking at her with what was probably the first sincere smile he’s given her, “a mistake I will not make again, I assure you. And seeing as it is too late to change the terms of our deal, we will need to make certain I am able to help you fulfill your end of the agreement.”

“Oh?” Vex raises her eyebrow, smiling curiously, feeling much more confident that she was at least on equal footing with the fae now, “and how do we do that?”

“Two steps, actually” he answers, “First: I will bestow my mark upon you. Not only will it allow me to find you, it will also serve as a protective sigil for you. I can’t have the mother of my future child in mortal peril after all.”

“Fair enough” Vex nods, “and the second step?”

“We introduce ourselves to each other” he responds, standing to move closer to her, and Vex can’t help but stand with him, “by giving each other our names, we create a bond. It is normally used in the feywild as a way to take ownership of others, that is why giving your real name to a fae is normally advised against.”

“But if you give me your name as well, then I own you, as much as you own me..” Vex finishes.

The fae smiles, taking her hand in his, “that is one way to look at it. And to prove this is no trick..” he leans in close, and Vex can feel her heart pounding against her ribcage at how close he is now, how warm his breath is against her ear as he whispers a name:

Percival

She pulls back to look at him, and she sees in the fae’s eyes, in Percival’s eyes, a fear that hadn’t been there before, and she realizes the amount of power, and trust, he’s just handed to her.

And the thought of taking advantage of it absolutely repels her.

“Vex’ahlia.” is the only thing she responds with. “Or Vex...as my friends like to call me.”

Relief fills his face as Percival lets out a small chuckle, “then this the beginning of quite the friendship, Vex.”

Vex can’t fight the heart that fills her cheeks, something about the way he says her name just causes something in her that she’s never quite experienced. “Well then, Percival. Now what?”

The familiar, devilish smile crosses his face as he covers her hand with his, “Now…” he starts as a warm, tingling sensation fills the back of her hand, “you go tend to your brother. And we’ll talk later.” 

Before Vex can ask what he means, he presses a brief, warm kiss to her lips, and before she can properly respond, his warmth is gone, and she, and Trinket, are back in the entrance of the woods.

“What the-”

“Vex!” Vex turns at the sound of Keyleth’s voice, and she sees the red-haired druid running towards her, out of breath, but smiling brightly. “Wow, you literally just appeared out of nowhere, but that doesn’t matter. I just got a message from Pike. Vax woke up! And it sounds like he’s even healthier than before he was sick!”

Vex can only stare blankly at her before her words catch up and she’s laughing as tears of relief fill her eyes. “Well he certainly works fast..” she murmurs under her breath”

Keyleth tilts her head at him, “what was that?” Vex just shakes her head in response.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy it worked.”

The smile fades slightly from Keyleth’s face as she looks at her with concern, “so, there really was a fae...they didn’t ask too much from you, did they?”

Vex brings her hand up to wipe the tears from her eyes before she notices it: a faint, glowing symbol of a six-sided star on the back of her hand, and she just smiles.

“Honestly Kiki, I actually think I got a pretty good deal out of it.”

Keyleth looks confused, but she shrugs as she begins moving towards the tree they arrived out of, “Well, you’ll have to tell me more about it later, I’m sure you’ll want to see Vax now.”

Trinket nudged Vex happily and she smiles as they move towards the tree. “Yes, I really do.”

Keyleth and Trinket step through the portal first, and just as Vex begins stepping back into the familiar grounds of their home, she feels a warm breeze surround her as the portal closes behind her.

[druid-for-hire]

new Hadestown au, ICARUS!ORPHEUS, wherein orpheus is not the world’s greatest musician but rather the world’s greatest inventor/mechanic/tinkerer. his creations are wondrous and beautiful and a miracle. Orpheus his mission is to create something that will repair the world--take what’s broken, make it whole.

Orpheus is still very much an artist--only his art in this AU is visual instead of auditory. and he’s still poor! not everything he makes is immediately useful for survival and y’know, hardly anyone has the money to buy things, and he has a propensity to just. give things away, especially the smaller trinkets he makes. and they take a Long Time to make. so he still works at hermes’ bar

SO!!!

this orpheus is body pain solidarity KDSKFJH

he has a fucked up back from all the heavy lifting he does around the workshop, being hunched over while he works on stuff, and being stuck in weird positions for extended periods of time when he’s working on machines and whatever, especially the bigger ones

also he’s got a wrist brace

he has a set of gear he wears a lot especially when he’s in his workshop

1) his wing pack! he built it himself and he’s proud. the pack was also made to help with his back problems. he doesn’t wear his mechanic gear when he’s working at the bar, but sometimes he’ll leave the wings on because back hurty. also, following w icarus, the wings are kept smooth & together and waterproofed w wax, kinda like a gloss. he reapplies every so often

2) his goggles! every part about the design is impractical (the red lenses and the beak) but i like them. they protect his eyes from flying bits and sparks and sawdust etc. when he’s working and wind when he’s flying

3) his boots! they’re sturdy workin’ boots, and have a talon function to clasp onto and lift things up. especially useful for moving bigger things around the workshop, up to higher levels and what have you, and he gets to flit around the whole space with minimal usage of ladders. (yes, they’re inspired by Vulture’s boots from Spider-Man: Homecoming)

(ALSO. the model of his wings are white crow wings, bc of the myth of Coronis)

because in greek mythology, crows started out white and had beautiful voices and the reason they turned black and got croaky calls is because a crow had to tell Apollo that his lover, Coronis, left him to marry a mortal 

and Apollo got so upset he burned the crow and then burned Coronis to death, or burned the crow and then turned Coronis into a crow, depending on the version

(thanks to @princessponies81 for helping me figure this bit out)

so there are some... parallels here

also, IIRC crow wings are elliptical-type wings, meaning they’re good for a lot of control and maneuverability in tight spaces. good for the workshop

also he makes automata too! he has this little mockingbird to help him around the workshop. lots of calls for lots of signals, like how a car will have diff beep signals for low gas or parking brake on or door left open or key left in etc... little bird can measure and alert for lots of things

he’s also less noodle-y than canon orpheus because of how much he uses his arms and legs doing lifting, work, and flying

he’s not like. Built or anything. but hes got some strength to him

he doesn’t just make really good machines either; he’s absolutely as skilled in fine, delicate things as much as the big pieces—he sees the details himself, has to make it himself, he’s as skilled in silversmithy or goldsmithy as he is in mechanics, and i imagine he has skills in metallurgy too. maybe even a bit of glassblowing? just for piece assembly. all his pieces will fit most perfectly if he makes them himself

things like the Silver Swan automaton (i’d link a video but external links are illegal on tumblr)

also... i don’t know if they manage to get married this time, but they at least get the wedding bands

lover, tell me, if you can--who’s gonna make the wedding bands?

@supercantaloupe: the river gonna give us the wedding bands -- he draws the mineral, the stones from the silt, and crafts them himself

SO, he charms eurydice with one (or many) of his dazzling creations that also have usages in practicality and survival

as is the youzhe, she leaves when he gets to obsessive with working on something, holed up in his workshop instead of like. Surviving the winter

they last longer into the winter this time though because again, he does have a couple of machines good for tiding over the winter and surviving, and eurydice can operate them. but he’s too caught up with creating something to fix the world to repair them when they break down

when he leaves, he leaves his mockingbird to take care of his workshop while he’s gone. make sure there’s not leaks or fires, etc., keep everything in working order

the trip to hadestown still takes a long time, but less time than in canon, given that orpheus gets there on a pair of wings, though he gets grounded plenty of times due to bad weather. plus, his wings aren’t really meant for long-distance

so in the end the time still matches up; the events underground still happen on the onset of proper spring

he sails over the wall of the Styx on his wings, but it’s a feat easier said than done; it really is high and wide, just... hundreds of feet tall, and i headcanon that the “wall” is in fact seven layers of fortification because some myths say the River Styx wraps around the underworld seven times

and he is not a high altitude flier

uhhhhhhhhh blah blah something something ... i’m not clear on all the details but here are a few things:

orpheus gets the shit kicked out of him in Papers as usual and the fates hold his wings over him instead of his guitar

i have no idea how If It’s True goes

SOMEWHERE there’s Hey Little Songbird II (thank you to @supercantaloupe​ for authoring this idea);

it's Hades to Orpheus this time. Ironic, as he sings and flies, a real songbird.

and orpheus, that inspired inventor, that mechanic, that engineer, blessed by Hephaestus himself, being tempted to stay. It's a marvel of engineering, those factories. But they're rough around the edges, dirty, inefficient, unrefined. Imagine all the work he could do. Imagine how grand it would be, with just his help. And imagine how much fun it would be to fix it all!

but since he's fallen in love - and lost her once already - he has to pause and think. it's too good to be true, isn't it? Is it true? Can he really stay here forever, with parts and tools and endless projects worthy of his skill and attention - at least, without her?

ok back to me writing stuffs

there is no Epic I / Epic II / Epic III; the titles are now Trial I / Trial II / Trial III, like trial runs of prototypes, and on the third one it has a double meaning as a trial of judgement

Trial III goes as such:

(and thank you to @ferretteeth for this)

Hades orders him to build.  An impressive invention in turn for his life – a chance he gives only because his wife is smitten with interest. 

Orpheus gets three days and no more, and when he is finally ordered to come before the throne of basalt and steel he brings his invention. And Hades gives a curt, mocking laugh, because all Orpheus has in his hands is a simple box of bronze, cheap and adorably human. 

 He almost orders for Orpheus' death the moment he sees it, but then the boy lifts the lid and reveals a mechanical flower. Petals made out of metal rusted rosy, nectar of flecks of fool's gold. 

Delicate and beautiful; extremely finely spun, as if the metal were only woven fibers. It is as soft as any silk.

"Where did you get that," the king snaps in a hurry. "How did you know–" 

And then, with the twist of a key, the invention reveals to be a music box and long lost chords fill the Underworld.

(i originally had the idea that he builds a planetarium that replicates the summer above, a caught snippet of the thing that hades could never make on a large scale. a beautiful thing with flowers that blossomed and played the old song as hades brushed his hands across them, sun above. but i figured it’s probably more in line with the sensibilities of Hadestown if orpheus had created something less... grand)

so eurydice and orpheus are granted their chance to leave.

i’m not sure what the test is, because he’s got to fly out with eurydice clutched in his talons, and i want him to be as much a victim of his doubt as in canon

but he has to follow this flight path with absolute perfection, down to the flap. you fly too high, the flames of hadestown will catch him. he flies too low, the flames of hadestown will catch her.

i think, in his paranoia, he flies too high, and his wings catch fire

his wings are on fire--his arms are strapped in to them. he’s burning up. he’s burning.

he’s slowing down in his ascent. in a moment, he knows that if they’re going to make it, it’ll only be one of them, and... he’s not going to drop eurydice. he can’t do that to her.

when his wings can no longer climb, he throws her the final distance to the surface. she turns around and reaches desperately for him, but he’s too far away.

he falls. a comet.

he breaks.

the fact is, he dies

but he dies in hadestown. so now he’s just... well, one, no chance of going back aboveground. two, now he’s... sitting at the bottom of that long climb, broken and in pain, surrounded by the charred skeleton of his wings, broken and burned feathers, drips of melted oil and wax, and blood

he’s... there for a long time, just suffering, before someone comes to see if they made it out, and finds him at the bottom

hades sees this as an opportunity to bring him back, let him heal, and put him onto projects, perhaps “to get your mind off of it all,” but. orpheus doesn’t want to work. he doesn’t want to do anything

thanks to supercanteloupe again for co-authoring this section:

Hades says he'll squander his god given talents to just sit around all day but Orpheus won't listen

hades has just zero fucking clue how to deal with a depressed human

"have I not given him all he could want, metal, tools, a workbench? Bed, bread, fire? Strength in his bones? And yet he refuses still? The boy must be mad," he cries, angry

@s-aint-elmo: "i got a new mechanist" 

“you ruined a perfectly good talented young man is what you did. look at him, he's got depression"

persephone herself is a mess (less so after Trial III) but she has at least some sense—she is more in touch with mortals than him, spending time with them up on the surface and throwing revels, but also greeting those who lost their lovers/sisters/brothers/mothers/fathers in the winter before

persephone encouraging orpheus to build, not for her sake or for Hades', but for his own. little flowers, little birds, wind up toys and music boxes. something to keep him going

s-aint-elmo: she brings him pressed flowers from the surface, little trinkets, tokens of the green. orpheus only lets the first few wilt and rot at the corner of his table.

flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart

it's a sad, painful reminder

he eventually has the resolve to rebuild his wing pack—better this time, because really, he feels crippled without them after living w em for so long

edit: (and the feathers are black, a la the crow myth)

when hades first sees him like, passing by w wings on his back, he turns to persephone like “what have you been saying to him?” “only what he needs to hear, husband”

he has a great fear of actually getting off the ground at first, though

he’ll perch at the edge of a rooftop, but... doesn’t move. it’s a leap of faith he doesn’t feel like he can take

he always saw air as just a medium to move through, that it would support him, as easy as swimming

now he sees straight through it to the ground

he has burn scars across the entire back of his arms, hands, and fingers

it’s a reminder every time he gets to working

rough patchy skin. calloused fingers from work

big sigh

eurydice goes home.

there is the empty shell of his workshop. his many machines and trinkets and tools and his hundreds of unfinisheds and thousands of scraps of plans, and… his bird left to care for the shop after god knows how many weeks or months.

it flies down and greets her, some string of whistles and beeps she only half understands. then it asks for orpheus

she tells it that he fell; he’s not coming back, it’s too late

the bird sticks by her from there on out, the last “living” remnant of her lover, besides his shell of a workshop

ok i haven’t thought farther than this, please have fun with this au i think it’s a new favorite alongside Unswayed AU & Apartments AU

[blankdblank]

Ridikulus Pt 31

With Regulus claiming the week for Em’s care in a sort of acclimation period for him and Lindir to see how their jobs would handle a child between them you were more than able to catch up on some sleep. Free periods at school before lunch you spent in your office focusing on the supplements you were sending off to Rohan to help with the condition so many seemed to suffer from including their Queen. Between shipments your eager owl carried off in enchanted pouches for each afflicted your eyes kept turning to the potion nearly ready for Thorin’s change.

Humming to yourself you were off to stop in at Erebor. Using the door attaching the mountain to Dale you entered and were on the verge of skipping lost in the tune mid snack on a chocolate orange resting in your palm. Weaving through the curious Dwarves you caught sight of Ori who grinned and hurried over halting momentarily from his path to state, “Thorin is in the meeting room just off the Throne Room.”

“Thank you,” you said offering him a slice he grinned in taking and hurried off with a soft thanks of his own while you turned towards the Throne Room. Peering all around at the marvel of a hall you crossed the rail-less bridge following the echoes of low voices to another walkway, at the end of which the guards outside the door opened them and your lips parted. “Oh, you-..”

Peering inside with a tinge of yellow at your roots you eyed the table with Thengel, the Durin men who all glanced up at you catching your brief wave when Thorin stated, “Miss Black, this is a surprise. Is anything wrong?”

Shaking your head you stepped inside stating, “No, um, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Thorin shook his head, “Not at all. You are always welcome here.”

“Well, I won’t take long, just wanted to say your potion should be ready tomorrow. Around six after classes should do it if that’s good for you?”

His lips parted in a relieved chuckle, “That, would be perfect. Thank you again.”

You shook your head, “Not a problem at all.”

Thengel smirked asking, “Queen Jaqi is assisting you with potions as well? Surely I’d have lost my Queen and our little ones had she not offered us aid.”

Thorin chuckled again unable to keep from grinning, “The potion is to turn me into a Dam so I may carry heirs of my own.”

Thengel’s lips parted, “You are forgoing your throne?”

Dain answered for Thorin, “Our kin would never abandon him in his path to having bairns of his own.”

Thengel grinned at you stating, “Impressive feat discovering such a potion.” He turned his eyes back to Thorin, “Whenever you find the change successful we would be grateful to show our respects to your future heirs.”

Thorin nodded and looked to you, “I do hope this will not interfere with the planning for your celebration, if it would interfere-,”

You shook your head, “Thranduil is the one who settled on throwing the celebration all on his own and insists he has it all covered. This will not interfere with anything, just prepare yourself, it will be quite painful.”

Thorin rumbled back, “A tolerable pain for bairns. I will manage.”

You nodded and said, “I’ll leave you to it, I’ve been charged with taking Tuo out and then told to nap again,” When you looked to Thengel you said, “I hope your people take to the medicine quickly and find some relief.”

Thengel chuckled, “It has aided us greatly already. We thank you heartily and cannot wait to see our gift outshine that of Gondor’s.”

“I haven’t met anyone from Gondor yet,” making his brow arch up, “Tonks mentioned traveling there and Thranduil said something about a coat they might make me.”

Thengel, “Nothing compared to our gift.”

Making you smirk and say, “Well, if their men are as troublesome as Tonks described I may end up returning their gift for a few black eyes.” You nodded your head in his loud laugh echoed by his Men around him including his cousin Halmar greatly relieved taking your momentary grin his way as a sign you were off on a better footing from the first meeting when you had punched him. “Don’t go warning them. I want them honest.” Out again you strolled allowing the now antsy Dwarves just bursting to explode the news all through the mountain to conclude the meeting with the Dwarves to lay the groundwork for a rebirth of their former trade agreements by establishing a friendship and trust.

Back in the heart of the Throne Room you zapped back to the archway in Pumpernickel you used to head straight for Northern Greenwood. Ginny was on a late lunch with Haldir to hear about his day. While Taule claimed another evening with the boys, and Legolas through your duo focusing on your party plans leaving you to go and find Tuo. A long ride found you next eating as filling a dinner as you could muster before heading off to bed early hoping to have some time to get up early to prep some things for the big change the following day.

.

Giggles however woke you in the crawling of the silvery white curly haired twins crossing from the foot of your bed to your side with Estel behind you already leaned over your shoulder. His wavy brown hair pooling into your face in a peck on your cheek, “We picked berries, Naneth.”

Inhaling deeply your arms circled the trio you kissed the heads on and hummed out, “Berries are nice.” Behind them Legolas came into the doorway and you flashed him a sleepy grin, “Leg, did you pick berries too?” Over his shoulder you saw Thranduil and Glorfindel.

Legolas replied, “I just returned from my rounds and they were gone.”

Glancing at Estel you sighed out, “They are very tall you know,” he nodded, “I do hope you remember what it felt like to be this small when you reach their size.”

Elurin giggled saying, “We will.”

His brother nodded and you combed your fingers through his hair removing a brewing knot there, “We didn’t mean to scare them.”

You shook your head, “They’re still used to only having one little one around. It’ll calm down, they’ll adjust.” Up you slid and sat up in Estel’s path to Legolas who picked him up.

Glorfindel came closer to grab the twins asking, “Did you sleep well?”

You nodded brushing your hair out of your face changing its shade from a burnt orange to silvery blue again, “Have to check on my rainbow spear viper though, I think she laid her eggs.” Curling your legs up your shorts were revealed under your baggy quidditch jersey from your father’s school days.

When your doorway popped up Thranduil asked, “Is that a bad thing?”

Turning around still walking backwards you replied, “No, just have to make sure she’s got enough coal or she likes to spark up and that agitates the Lemurtelba in the habitat next to hers.” Smirking at the men you nodded your head to the side, “Come and see. They love to brag on their nests.”

Elured, “Are they birds?”

“No, snakes.” In his momentary flinch of fear in his eyes you stopped and moved closer to him stroking his cheek with a curled finger, “Snakes are not evil creatures, they speak a different language and are afraid of those who can’t understand them. All they have is their teeth and their bodies. I’ll show you if you like when you’re older, they are friendly and docile when treated with respect, like horses or Tuo and his herd. Their venom could kill or cure, if you know how to use them. My snakes won’t hurt you. They wouldn’t dare.” He nodded and you turned to show them through the Chamber of Secrets snake room parting their lips at the various habitats holding your snakes who all peered out at you hissing greetings to the children you translated for them.

A large pitch black habitat revealed to be a cave with a stepping stone path across a dark river was what the group stared into watching you reach the tree on the other side with a silver slithering snake that parted their lips. The head nearly two feet around on a body that filled the tree seemingly holding this cave up with its endless woven branches looked you over and melted into your palms as you greeted her. At the roots of the tree you pulled back a pile of black leaves revealing golden eggs lighting up you and the tree in your counting the eggs she had laid. Covering the eggs again you summoned a basket of mangoes for her accepting her thanks in her move to eat while you trotted across the river again.

Legolas asked, “How large was she when you found her?”

“Few feet shorter. Found her on one of the last missions I had before landing here. Some idiot from R thought they could use her venom as a weapon.”

Thranduil, “Is that not possible?”

“They are constrictors.” His brow inched up, “There are snakes that poison their prey and those that squeeze them with their bodies. She feeds on mountain goats twice a year and mangoes the rest of it.”

Glorfindel, “Snakes eat fruit?”

You nodded, “A great many things varying with each breed. The meat is for her clutches of eggs, the mangoes help her grow and helps her coat shimmer.”

Estel asked about while pointing at the rainbow colored snake slithering out of its habitat towards you that rose to rest on your shoulders to allow you to show the boys, “This is Dilby, he loves to meet people.” Moving closer you allowed them to reach out and stroke his sides making his coat shift colors stirring giggles from them that triggered his webbed ridges down his back rise. “Only thing you have to worry about with this guy is when he gets cranky in their mating season, they like to bite. Non venomous, but,” he opened his jaws at the stroke of your finger under his head parting their lips seeing the five rows of teeth and four large fold out fangs that extended dripping with blue droplets. “It is not comfortable, but their venom helps re-grow bones. Used it plenty of times myself.”

Glorfindel, “What reason would there possibly be to need to re-grow a bone?”

“You can only break a bone so many times. If it’s bad enough of a break it’s healthier to vanish the bone and grow another.”

Estel, “Does it hurt?”

“Yes, and the potion tastes, well, let’s hope you won’t need it. Certainly not pumpkin juice.” Making them giggle as he slithered down to head for the open pantry for a snack, “Don’t mind him, just off to find a cantaloupe.”

Thranduil, “Does Tulip eat melons?”

“She prefers vegetables. Can go through a whole cart of cabbages a week if you let her.”

Elured, “Who is Tulip?”

You smirked guiding them into her chamber saying, “That is my ancestor’s head,” answering their unspoken question of whose head they next saw Tulip slithering out of the mouth of.

Estel gasped, “I’ve seen her.”

“Yes you have, she is a Basilisk.” The boys awed at her large fangs nearly the size of their bodies and stole strokes on her scales. In her path out to head out to the gardens outside your home you walked into your office to peek in at the simmering cauldron, the boys stayed to inspect more while Glorfindel and Thranduil came up behind you curious what you were doing.

Wetting their lips they eyed your fingers trailing along an open page on a manual beside the small cauldron in the center of a counter Glorfindel peered into beside Thranduil as he asked, “Is that, fur?”

You nodded, “Yes, a lovely shade of puce, should be done in a couple hours now.”

Thranduil, “This is Thorin’s potion?”

“Yup.” A glance at the clock had their eyes follow yours.

Glorfindel, “We should feed you.”

“That would be lovely.” He smirked and leaned in claiming a kiss and turned to gather the twins while Thranduil’s arm circled your back and you leaned into his chest accepting his kiss.

Thranduil, “You did sleep well?”

You nodded, “Feeling better.”

Lowly he asked, “When is the change?”

“Told them six.”

He nodded, “I will clear my meetings for later.”

“You-,”

He shook his head leaning in to claim a second kiss, humming against your lips, “This is an incredible gift, we will be there to witness it, because you do understand our people would wish to use it as well. It would be easier to explain the process to possible couples.”

“It’s painful, not much of a process.” You said leading the way to join the others off to the breakfast prepared with the jam from the berries the boys had picked for you through the night.

.

Soft clicks and dings sounded in your typing up the copy of your practice OWL and NEWT exams while your students sat going through their monthly exams. You weren’t known for pulling punches, it was a more hands on and entertaining process for your students but the sheer volume of what you covered gave each of them ample topics and history in each lesson for them to fully absorb each. Countless extra tidbits were added to keep things interesting and fill in all the gaps in what the main textbooks covered.

200 pages would be witted down later to edit but sat in the box you had locked it into before the final class before your lunch. Back down in the Chamber you checked on the potion and turned to the selection of books you had pulled together listed for the usual pack given to patients. With Hedwig came a note from Hermione confirming the six o’clock meeting time with a warning that you would have an audience making you groan. “Of course..”

The rest of your classes also had tests leaving your classroom mostly silent, while you readied some more pregnancy supplements for Mrs Granger drawing the eyes of the class when the liquid turned to gel and each scoop you settled on the tray hardening into circles you added to a jar. When all the tests were completed you had finished filling a second jar and a girl asked, “Medicine for your store?”

“No, prenatal supplements. A few relatives are expecting.” A few moments later the clock chimed another hour and you said, “Alright, off to freedom.” Off they did go and turning to your desk you tied a bow around the top of the jar you slipped into a pouch you passed to your owl that flew off hearing who he was flying off to.

It was all planned a brief snack before the trip to Erebor, in the main garden where you found your cushioned stool open between Fred and George who raised their glasses, “Heard from Hermi, we’ve got an audience.”

Chuckling to yourself you took a sip of your tea and looked to Legolas in his asking, “Would an audience not aid in the process?”

Grinning at him you said, “Not much of a process. Just painful. Most don’t want one.”

Beside you Fred spoke as you eyed the trio of boys greeting you in their climb onto their seats claiming their helpings of the snacks, the puzzling gaze wondering how much of their lives they remembered past the burned in day they lost it all including their lives. “Usually it’s just the couple and the one administering the potion.”

George, “Some times the one taking it prefers to be alone with the one administering the potion. All personal preference really.”

A pulsing crystal appeared in front of you as you and the boys were snacking on more of the fruit slices you mumbled, “Mmm, Thorin.”

Glorfindel chuckled as Taule stated, “You go, I will watch the Princes.”

You nodded once on your feet, strolling around the table and crouched down kissing their stuffed cheeks that rose in creeping grins, then you rose and turned to lead your group through your doorway after sending the crystal to Hermione.

Around you the Chamber of Secrets grew and you led the pair back to your office where you collected a small stack of books and levitated the cauldron with the bright pink fur over the top waving as the mixture gurgled underneath. Along the way to the now changed doorway Fred collected a pack of tools from the desk and made for the door that closed and opened revealing the rushing Durins flooding into Thorin and Bilbo’s apartment.

Smiles grew on their faces as they all peered into the odd mixture in the cauldron in your path into Thorin’s bedroom. Anxiously Thorin was rubbing his palms together then met your eyes as you said, “You’ll want to remove your belt and boots if possible.”

He nodded and followed your suggestion as Fred and George popped up into their view helping to unroll the set of tools while you set the books on the table beside Thorin’s bed. Dis eyed the books asking, “You require manuals for this”

You shook your head, “No. These are for Thorin.” Your eyes locked with his, “One for basic anatomy, tips on proper hygiene and the final one is mainly for reproduction and sexual responses.”

Thorin timidly repeated, “Sexual, responses?”

You grinned at him claiming the first tool, a hook with a slotted spoon in your other hand. You peeled the top layer of fur back Fred eased with another hook into a jar then capped it before it started giving off a pink gas leaving the fur melting into a layer of shimmering slime as you raised an avocado looking ball and swapped the hook for a scalpel George handed you to slice around the middle of it. “Our anatomies are vastly different. I am not certain if you have manuals on sexual responses in your culture or if yours match ours, but if they do then that book would help you get better acquainted with your new body and its responses.” He wet his lips, “You being intimate with Bilbo in this body will be vastly different as a Dam, the way we feel things the way or bodies respond are different. Even when you’re alone, self pleasure is a bit different than your current grip and tug situation.”

A blush grew on his cheeks and Dis opened the final manual, “Thank you. It was getting a bit difficult to explain that subject to them.”

“Oh, I will warn you, they are Wizard books, so the illustrations might move.” As you said that Dis gasped at one of them and closed the book tilting it out of Fili and Kili’s sight. “I assure you it is all scientific, not lewd.” Her eyes moved to the cup George slid the top half of the kiwi appearing assumed fruit giving off a scent of pears into a small bowl as you took a small spoon to scoop out the apparent skinless grape then offered it to Thorin, “This will taste bitter, try to chew it ten times then swallow.”

He nodded following the order only to pucker almost instantly at the taste, chewing painfully slowly he got to ten then swallowed watching as you held out the lower half to add to the bowl from George that shifted to a liquid as well you offered to him, “Swish it around in your mouth then swallow.” He nodded and drew in a deep breath and raised the bowl to his lips and clamped his eyes shut emptying the bowl to begrudgingly swish the mixture around then swallow it in as large gulps as he could manage.

Wetting your lips you set the bowl in George’s palm then led Thorin to bed where you sat down and acted as his pillow folding your arms across his chest saying softly, “Just remember, deep breaths as often as you can manage and squeeze my hands and arms as hard as you need to.”

Around you Fred and George summoned the chairs from the other room to set on either side of the bed simply stating, “You’ll need them.”

Everyone settled into them as Bilbo sat beside the bed in the closest ones while Thorin mumbled, “My skin is tingling.”

You nodded, “That’s the first sign it’s working properly.”

He nodded and closed his eyes for a deep breath as he felt his chest tightening only to have his eyes shoot open with a groan at the loud crack of his breastbone cracking that made Bilbo flinch while the others couldn’t help but glance away. Instantly his hands gripped your forearms tightly as the cracks spread over his shoulders visibly contorting them under his shirt as you mentally whispered, “Muffliato,” silencing his pained sounds from the group with only the Twins, Thranduil and Glorfindel looking on still bearing pained expressions.

Each bone seemed to be breaking while his muscles tore then melded back together into their new shapes as Fred eyed Dain at his asking, “Does she feel that much pain when she shifts?”

Fred shook his head, “No. Morpher’s bones, well they shift to a near jelly and then harden into their new shapes.”

George, “For the rest of us there are a few options, all temporary but no less painful. The bones have to be broken, muscles reformed into the new shapes.” His hand settled on Bilbo’s shoulder to crouch down beside him peering up at you softly whispering to Thorin, “It only lasts a couple minutes. Well worth it.”

Bilbo’s teary eyes fell on his, “I, can’t-..”

George grinned at him patting his hands wringing on his lap, “Honestly first time Fred and I made a polyjuice potion we took it in turns. I nearly passed out seeing him shift and he threw up seeing me change. But we got used to it after the fifth time or so.” Bilbo sniffled as he smiled saying, “It hurts watching our loved ones in pain. Even more so when it could easily have been avoided.”

Fred joined him adding his hand to theirs, “You are going to have a baby. Possibly dozens. Trust me, this pain will fade the moment it’s confirmed he’s expecting.”

They turned again to see Thorin breathing steadily in your arms far more relaxed as the shift ended, and you whispered, “Another deep breath.” He inhaled, “Through the worst of it now.”

His hands released your arms now bearing red patches freeing you to ease them over his shoulders in testing squeezes down his arms while Thorin inspected his hands seeming a bit less meaty. Lowering your cone of silence you shifted out from behind him freeing Bilbo to sit behind him to cuddle with and kiss him and you to move between Thorin’s legs you raised up one at a time inspecting each of his joints noting his sturdier hips, knees and ankles. In a peek under the neck of his shirt he grinned then peered up at you as you felt the realignment of his hips bringing his attention to the shift below his waist, “Hmm.”

You giggled grinning up at him, “It’ll feel different for a while.” He nodded, “I think we’ll give you a week to relax to it before we start on the fertility potions, if you still want them.”

He nodded, “Yes.”

You wet your lips accepting his hands to test his movement in those as well, “Oh, I wanted to tell you. Those potions with our people do tend to drastically cut pregnancies down.”

His brow rose, “I don’t understand.”

“We normally carry nine months but with the potions the longest we’ve had was five months.”

Thorin let out a stunned breath as Bilbo said, “Well Dwarves are pregnant for up to four years, so if it cuts it in half then we’ll still have two years to prep.”

“I just wanted you to know. We aren’t certain with our own people so we prep quickly, usually before taking the potion, and with the differences in our races it would be best to do the same possibly.”

Thorin nodded then grinned again claiming your hand, “I can never thank you enough. We, never can. First our home, now this.” Wetting his lips he shifted his legs to the end of the bed where Dis, Diaa and Niro grinned nearing him claiming hugs stealing a feel of his hidden figure.

Diaa, “Now, we have to get you into better fitting clothes to show off the shift.” Thorin nodded then turned to claim a kiss from Bilbo then turned excitedly to redress with the females of his line in his closet as Thranduil chuckled offering Bilbo a wrapped packet matching the one Glorfindel handed him, bringing a curious grin to his face accepting and opening it.

Thranduil, “It is tradition with our people to give seeds in hopes of a fruitful union.”

Bilbo’s grin grew and he nodded his head eyeing the paintings of the flowers on each of the inner packets holding rare flowers, “Thank you. Our kin share that tradition.”

A few moments later as you sent your cauldron back to your office and within a few minutes all turned to see Thorin proudly exiting his closet. Fully crowned in better fitting pants and a deep blue golden edged shirt under a hugging vest with a sash around his waist accentuating his pronounced bust and wider hips then added his boots again offering his hand to Bilbo. “My Love, now we show off the results.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but grin at the seeming glistening dark hair and beard on his Love’s face that seemed a bit more slender but not that much changed. He hopped up accepting help into his fur vest from Frerin then folded his hand in Thorin’s as you eased off their bed to Thranduil and Glorfindel’s sides where they eyed the bruises starting to form on your arms in your walk after the Durins.

Atop an overlooking balcony you watched the Durins pass through the crowding Dwarves with an easy smile at the excited compliments on his successful change between eager glances up at you from couples wishing for the same aid. Blindly Fred opened the cylinder he pulled from his pocket he held in front of you, with two fingers you claimed a swipe and smoothed it over the bruises before he pocketed it again then joined George in popping off to check in on Dudley on the end his first shift with Ginny.

Glorfindel muttered, “That was-,”

“Painful. But he is going to have some very handsome babies.”

Thranduil grinned asking, “Durins have always been fruitful, that is not an unfair assumption.”

“Not an assumption.” The pair glanced at you and you said, “I can feel it, people’s family trees sort of, I can feel them expanding. He’ll be quick to carry, even without the fertility potions.”

Glorfindel, “That is good to hear your gift is quite extraordinary.”

“It has its moments.”

Thranduil’s hand smoothed across your back, “Come, back to the food then we can have our Healers ready a session for you. Your arms must be in pain with those bruises.”

Pt 32