#for the trees we needed in the forest scene ??? they were supposed to fly out. guess what he did. yep. he drilled them to the floor

[schoenht]

sorry if I wasn’t clear, but we did have stage directors and such, but we didn’t have that many people in crew as a whole because the new director is a bitch (literally the only word I could possible use to describe her.) Anyways, the guy Im talking about is basically just the opposite of what I read. His first reaction after the show was to run off the stage and up to the light booth just to hug me, pick me up and spin me around a bunch. LIKE????? I THINK ABOUT THAT DAILY Also he’s helping me a bunch because there’s this one creepy guy who keeps flirting with me and being all touchy, but school won’t do anything about him. But he agreed to walk me to all my classes, even though he doesn’t have most of his classes even near mine and he’s defending me from the creep. But also idk in general.

-🌺

wtf the duality of tech lives: yours vs mine GOOD FOR YOU IM VERY HAPPY FOR YOU

But technical directors that dont know what they're doing SUCKKKKK

[regnumaves]

Smoke Above Serenes [drabble]

                                       This is a story of hatred and sin                                         Written in blood of our very own kin

“Smoke on the horizon!... Smoke above Serenes!”

Tibarn’s heart stops and eyes widen as he immediately drops whatever it is that he was doing, forgetting on the spot what it was.

He sprints through the hallway together with all of his men who heard Janaff’s alarm.

                                        Beautiful, innocent, peaceful and fair                                         Never raise hand against others they swear

He knew. He had heard. Separatist though Phoenicis may be, the news reached them too, brought by spies and messengers. News of the assassination of the Begnion apostle. News of uncontrollable grief and rage sweeping through the nation. News of accusations thrown in all directions, particularly - as it usually goes with humans - at the laguz.

But, although he never trusted their kind to begin with, not even Tibarn thought they were that stupid.

What a naive, gullible, costly mistake.

His eyesight is far from that of Janaff, but he can see it - a pillar of smoke rising slowly into the sky akin to a beacon. “We fly! Quick!” That is all he throws before he jumps out of the window. No plan, no preparation - there’s no time for that; he’s not a fool, he knows that even if they push their wings to the absolute limit, the flight to Serenes will take them at least half a day. He doesn’t even pick out who exactly is supposed to go - the order is issued at no one in particular.

But it doesn’t matter; everyone who was at the scene follows him, for Hawk hearts beat in sync with those of their Heron brothers.

                                        Murderers! The humans of Begnion exclaim                                         They gather, laugh and set Serenes aflame

By the time the laguz arrive at the scene, it’s late evening. Under normal circumstances, the Hawks would avoid flying at night, for their eyes usually fail them in the dark.

But these circumstances are all but normal; the flames rise above the trees, illuminating the sky, painting it in sickening shades of red and orange, calling out to Tibarn and his men as if to show them the way - come here, come quick, the feathers of your brothers are on fire—

                                        For rumor and hearsay is all that they need                                         For another’s crime every Heron shall bleed

With no regards for his own safety, the king dives in between the trees, the other Hawks following without question. Once there, they split up. No instructions, no orders are necessary, they all know why they’re here.

The moment he descends into the hell that was made out of the once peaceful forest, he starts coughing, suffocating from the smoke, tears quickly welling up in his eyes and making it even harder to see - no, that’s not important, ignore it, get a grip, they need you, they'll die without you, find the Herons, find the Herons—

But the cursed walkers are here too, they were here first - through the trees, Tibarn hears laughter he can only compare to that of demons, drunk with the sheer wild joy of burning, hunting, killing, destroying. And the shrill screams, melodious even in despair and death as though to sing their own funeral hymn, falling silent one by one as bloodied human hands rise towards the sky in utterly misplaced, misguided retribution.

In all this pain and chaos, Tibarn loses his way, but his instincts do not fail him and his wings know to take him to the main altar. White feathers line the ground under him more and more, but he makes it just in time—

“REYSON!!”

The White Prince sharply turns back, celadon eyes blank and devoid of emotion. For a split second, the Hawk feels as though, in his panic and stress, his friend fails to recognize him, but the sensation is brief; mouth wide open, gasping for air, the Heron holds out his hand, reaching out to Tibarn in despair—

and then he collapses.

                                        O humans! Barbarians! You burned and you slew!                                         The lives the Goddess grants mean nothing to you!

The king dashes towards him, his heart dropping, but relief comes over him when he feels Reyson draw breath. At the same time, two Hawk soldiers fly over to him.

“We found His Highness Lorazieh! He’s alive!”

Tibarn pants as he nods. Another coughing fit shakes his body— but Reyson still lives. They must retreat. They have to get out of here before whatever few lives they managed to save are also snuffed out.

More and more Hawks arrive at the altar, some carrying survivors. White and gray feathers fall everywhere around them like a rain of death - the pain, the distress, they are overwhelming. But the accursed human voices draw ever closer too; though the thought rips his heart into pieces, the Hawk King realizes that what lives they did not find are forfeit. If it comes to a fight here, no one will be saved.

It pains him, but he forcefully silences the voice in his head that cries out for blood.

“We go…! We have to go! Retreat!”

                                        Do you really think that we will let this stand?                                         How our brothers felt, you will soon understand

———

He doesn’t remember their way home well.

He remembers holding Reyson in his arms and he remembers the stunned silence of his men, only broken occasionally by laments as yet another  of their silver brothers breathed his last on someone’s back.

He remembers that every time it happened, he cradled the Prince closer, praying and begging for him to hang on.

He did.

By the time the dawn breaks and they make it to Phoenicis, he and his father are the only ones still alive.

                                        We too destroy, burn, kill, give what is deserved                                         For this senseless slaughter justice must be served

News spread quickly; the horrified Hawks gather, tears in many eyes, wide open mouths covered in shock, children weeping into their mothers’ wings as they watch the scorched bodies unloaded from the backs of Tibarn’s exhausted men.

Barely aware of what he’s doing, the king absentmindedly hands Reyson over to some soldiers that come running, gives orders on what rooms to prepare, bed, food, water, bandages—

before a wave of despair, exhaustion and defeat washes over him and he falls to his knees.

He breathes heavily, his eyes wide open, realization on what he had just gone through and done dawning on him, now that the danger is gone and the stress and adrenaline wear off. His vision goes blurry - that’s tears in his eyes again, but not from smoke this time around.

This…

This really happened, didn’t it?

They’re gone. They’re really gone. All but two of them are gone.

Burned. Killed. Murdered for something they had nothing to do with. Slaughtered by the humans, those damned, cursed, idiotic miscreants, monsters, butchers, they do this and then they accuse the laguz of being nothing more than baseborn animals—

How could they

How dare they

They must

PAY

The rage does not let itself be contained in this smaller form of his anymore, the fury lighting up his eyes and pushing his body to transform against his will.

Raising his scorched wings to the sky, he lets out a harsh, deafening shriek, his wrath, anger and despair resonating through the air.

The singular voice soon turns into a cacophonous choir as soldiers and civilians alike all through Phoenicis respond, joining their king’s call.

                                        You stole our brothers! Their lives, souls and home!                                         Mistakes of the Goddess! Know despair! Begone!

[estellardreams]

Chapter 11: Battle in the Boscage

Thorn wandered through the jungle on birdie, Windthrow trailing after her. He ran up to a green light, biting down on the object and bringing it to her. 

Thorn took the shard out of his mouth, holding onto it for now.

The Mothership warped into view, a shuttle flying off of its outside and into the forest. Dr. Don't and Babble were inside, along with Bullet and Venice. 

Bullet kept watch of Venice, but was secretly averting his gaze to somewhere else so although he looked like he was watching, he actually wasn't. 

"Ugh, what a dump. Bet this place doesn't even have wireless." Don't remarked. 

Babble babbled a bit, but stopped the moment the monitor showed up. Eggman was reaching proper contact with them. 

"Button your lips and open your eyes. Report back as soon as you located this backwater jungle world's power shard." he said. 

"And don't muck this up, like all your other tasks." Done-It said. Babble stuck his tongue at them as they hung up. 

"Right? The nerve of those fossils, ditching us in this sinkhole. At least we got the rat to do all of the work." Don't looked over at Venice, who was typing away at the computer. 

"Okay, smarty pants, show us your stuff. The sooner you can score us that shard, the sooner we could bounce." 

"My name is Venice, and I need access." 

"Ugh! Do I have to do everything?!" Don't began to type in the password, properly giving Venice full access of the entire ship. 

"Wow, full access... Heh, what an Egghead." he remarked. Bullet tried his hardest not to laugh at that insult. 

"Hello?!" 

"Don't worry, soon things will be going exactly to plan." 

Eggforcers were deployed from the shuttle, flying down to the forest and beginning to scan and rummage through everything. 

One of the hover bots flew up to the palm tree, scanning it. "Shard energy signature detected."

Thorn leapt out of hiding, smashing the bot down to the ground with her hammer. 

"I dunno what these creatures are, but they're going to destroy the jungle if we don't stop them." she said. Her ears perked up at the sound of eggforcers approaching her. 

She blew a whistle, Birdie flying down and picking her up as they made their escape.

Shadow landed onto the canopy, seeing the Mothership fly off in the distance. He needed to find the shard and get it back somehow. But first, he needed to find the Boscage group.

He stopped, seeing eggforcers and hover drones down below. He skidded down the nearby tree, ducking back to see what was happening.

"Ugh, it's too hard to find anything in here, chop it all down!" Don't said through the communicator. The eggforcers began to cut down the trees and plants.

"These imbeciles..." Shadow grumbled, smashing the eggforcers with chaos spears. He ran ahead, seeing the destroyed open forest as light shined through it.

Oh... Thorn's definitely going to be upset at this. But... If they're still searching, then they haven't found the shard yet!

Shadow began to take down the eggforcers, smashing them to pieces.

Don't sighed. "This is taking forever!"

"Locating the shard will take time." Venice said.

"We don't have time! The only reason we haven't already made you into a hat is because you're supposed to be an expert on the Shards, and that little black-" he stopped the moment Babble pointed out the scene unfolding on the HUD.

Shadow was destroying the eggforcers. Don't groaned, prompting the attention of Venice on what was going on. 

"Shadow...?"

He slammed his fist on the table. "No way am I letting that annoying hedgehog trip us up again!"

Babble babbled, stating out the obvious.

"Facts." Don't agreed. 

Venice looked back to the computer, beginning to hack into an eggforcer to use as a small communicator. Bullet looked over, but immediately diverted his eyes in trying to stop him.

Shadow ran up the nearest tree, climbing up onto the canopy before spotting the group. He began to run over to them. 

"The time for hiding is over. We need to fight, NOW!" Thorn declared.

"No, we give them the Shard and they'll leave us alone." Prim declared.

"The Shard is the heart of our jungle. I'll never give it up!"

"We don't even know where it is!"

"It's hidden. And it will stay hidden!"

"But couldn't we use it against them?" Vine pointed out.

"We're not using the Shard. It's too much power for anyone to wield." Thorn said. Windthrow nodded in agreement.

"Hey. I'm back." Shadow cut in.

The entire group turned to their defensive stance, with Dust chucking a spear at Shadow. He caught it in his hands before stabbing it into the ground. They all stopped, lowering their guard a little.

"Shadow?" Dust asked.

"You've returned." Thorn approached him. "Where've you been?"

"Long story, but I need a favor." Shadow began.

"Not a chance. In case you hadn't noticed, we got enough trouble as it is." Prim said, pointing to the shuttle deploying eggforcers in the sky.

"And I knew it! I told you about the metal boat in the sky!" Dust said.

"And they're here to invade us! They're aliens, wanting to hurt us!"

"Aliens. Don't. Exist!" Prim said.

"But they do! See?" Dust pointed to the eggforcers in the sky.

"Which is why we need to fight back! Who's with me?" Thorn held her hammer up to the air.

"But without the Shard we don't stand a chance!" Vine reasoned.

"Fine! If you won't fight, I'll fight them on my own!" Thorn blew her whistle, with Birdie flying down.

She gently pet him on the beak. Shadow noticed his shoes glowing again the moment birdie showed up. 

Windthrow pawed at Thorn, his gaze pleading to come with. She gestured for him to climb onto birdie as well. The three flew down into the jungle.

"... She's right. We need to fight, and I have a plan. See that shiny ship up there?" Shadow pointed to the shuttle up there.

"Yes! The alien Mothership!" Dust exclaimed.

Shadow huffed, trying his hardest to not correct him. "That's where the enemy is coming from. We have to stop them."

"Look at the size of that flying beast!" Prim said, annoyed.

"We have to work together and fight."

"We're not going near that metal bird-"

"It's a ship, I tell you! It's not a bird!" Dust said. 

"But it's in the sky, Dust! Ships can't fly!"

"Oh, but aliens can fly ships! You're an alien, do you know what that's called?" Dust looked over at Shadow.

"... No." he lied.

"See? Not an alien." Prim said.

"But those aliens have eyes everywhere! They know we're talking about this!" Dust said.

Shadow face palmed.

"We're just trying to survive. They're here for the Shard! Not us! All Thorn has to do is hand it over and they'll go." Prim said.

Shadow sighed, looking over at her. "Alright, that's your choice to stay on the sidelines. But I'm going after Thorn. You all think about what to do while you watch your home get... Destroyed."

He shook his head at the last word, remembering what happened to his own home. Shadow leapt down underneath the canopy, keeping watch of his shoes as he caught up to Thorn and Windthrow.

"Thorn! Windthrow!" he called out, catching up to them.

"Oh, spare me." Thorn scoffed.

"I told you, I won't give up the shard!"

"I wasn't going to tell you too!" Shadow said.

Thorn paused. "You're... Not?"

"No."

"Oh... Then why are you- Woah!"

Babbles mech lands on the ground, causing a aftershock as dust, twigs, and logs fly into the air. Thorn fell off of Birdie, grabbing her hammer and staring at who just appeared.

Shadow leapt over the log, followed by Windthrow. He stopped the moment he noticed a blue figure clinging onto the back of the mech. 

He leapt down, his shoes landing onto the grass. 

"Bullet?"

Windthrow tilted his head at what Shadow just said, then noticed Bullet staring at him in shocked silence.

Babble pressed the roulette on his mech, the colors spinning before it landed on landing on pink. He chuckled, pointing the funnel towards Thorn.

Windthrow leapt into the way, pulling Thorn out of where she was about to get shot. She charged in again with her hammer, only to get it shot out of her hands. 

Eggforcers landed, the front one stepping forward into position.

"Ready to dance?" Don't asked, his controllers in his hands. His glasses lit up as an icon on the bot he was controlling popped up. 

Venice continued to hack through to one of the eggforcers while he was busy.

Don't began to attack Thorn, making her dodge out of the way. She leapt onto the bot, Don't switching to another eggforcer. She threw the first into the second, knocking them both down and forcing him to change to another. 

Shadow was busy dealing with Bullet, locked in a standstill with him, leaving Windthrow to handle Babble. 

Windthrow rushed up to Babble as he fired laser after laser, dodging each before climbing onto the mech and beginning to tear into it with his claws. He pried it open, seeing Babble inside as the baby freaked out.

An eggforcer was about to shoot at him, with Thorn quickly grabbing her hammer and smashing the bot down before it could do so. Control swapped again, which the bot picked her up and threw her into the distance.

Windthrow tore into the mech, pulling out the baby from it's controller and throwing him.

Don't, controlling an eggforcer, flew after him and caught him in time, the two escaping to the shuttle. Windthrow growled, his quills bristled on his back while his fangs remained bared.

Bullet was still trying to knock Shadow down, only for Thorn to use her hammer and throw him a distance. 

"There."

"Where's the shard? I need it." Shadow said.

"Why?"

"It's important. I need it to fix my home. Please."

"But the jungle-"

More eggforcers showed up, shooting at the trio. Windthrow was quick to charge, pouncing on the machines and beginning to tear them apart. Shadow and Thorn followed, continuing to fight back against the eggforcers.

Don't hijacked one, targeting Shadow as he shot out a net, with other eggforcers pinning him down. 

Thorn continued to knock back eggforcers, with Birdie swooping in to smash other machines. 

A hover drone flew by, and scanned Birdie. "Shard energy signature detected."

"No!" Thorn said.

"The shard..." Don't paused.

Another eggforcer came by and placed Babble back into his mech, the machines sealing up the hole before he took back control.

Thorn whistled, birdie swooping down as she climbed on. The two flew off into the jungle, escaping the council. 

Babble babbled angrily, pointing towards their escape. 

"Duh." Don't agreed, the two flying after Thorn and Birdie.

"Nice work, Birdie." Thorn said. The two weaved around the trees, trying to lose the two doctors. 

"Come here little birdie! I don't wanna hurt you, I just wanna chomp you!" Don't said, trying to slice the bird up with his flame saw.

Shadow blew the eggforcers after him along with the net, finding the location empty as the fight was still continuing elsewhere. 

Windthrow gently nudged Shadow on the side. His ears perked up, hearing the rustling of the bushes. Bullet climbed out of the jungle, immediately waving his hands in a silent surrender. 

Shadow stopped, his chaos energy dying down as he wasn't sure what to do with Bullet's change in behavior. 

"Don't talk. Speakers." he signed, pointing to his shoes.

"You... Know how to sign?" Shadow signed back.

Bullet nodded. 

"Then why are you here?"

"Venice is on the shuttle with the doctors. He's a prisoner assisting them. I saw him taking control of an eggforcer. That one." he pointed to the eggforcer as it was powering back up.

"So you're telling me this why?" Shadow signed.

"If you can take down the council, I'll be free. I can't jeopardize my position, but I'm hoping that you'll succeed in taking them down. Get the shard, save your world, and defeat the council."

"Got it."

"Now, direct..." Bullet paused, staring at Windthrow. The hedgepup tilted his head towards him curiously.

"... Him towards me. To attack." Bullet finished signing.

Shadow nodded, looking back at Windthrow for a moment. 

"Hey! You're not getting away!" Bullet began to run towards them, only to get tackled by Windthrow.

Shadow headed over to the eggforcer, seeing it get up and look at him. 

"Shadow! It's me." Venice's voice came through the communicator.

"I know. Bullet told me."

"He did?"

"Yes. You're captured, and they most likely have their shard..."

"Yes, temporarily. Now I don't have much time, so hold still." he pulled his hand up, beginning to reprogram his regulators remotely before finishing.

"There. Now we can communicate, and you can now make contact with the shards without risking teleportation. Something I picked up by being here... I have to go." the robot powered down, falling back down. 

Shadow looked at Windthrow and Bullet's fight, turning his attention back to helping Thorn. He ran off, leaving them behind.

He watched his shoes as they began to glow, locating Thorn surrounded by the eggforcers along with Babble and Don't. 

But before he could jump in, a bunch of spears held up by a green aura were shot at fast speeds, knocking down many different eggforcers. 

"This is our home!" Dust yelled, keeping his hold on more spears. 

"And you are destroying it!" Prim said. The trio charged into the fight, beginning to tear down the machines in their path.

Windthrow ran back to the fight, giving a small nudge to Thorn before pointing to the eggforcers and drones.

She slammed her hammer into Babble's mech, sending him flying before climbing into Birdie, taking off into the air to continue the fight.

Shadow ran in, knocking back machines with chaos spears and trying to keep them back. Thorn leapt off of Birdie, smashing eggforcers in the air with her hammer before landing. 

"Your hiding spot is in Birdie, right?" Shadow questioned.

"You knew? How?" Thorn knocked back more bots.

"Back at the village."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because... I needed you to trust me."

"Oh."

More eggforcers came to the scene, backing Shadow and Thorn into a corner.

"Thorn. They want the shard. Give it to me, and they'll follow me out of here." Shadow reasoned.

"But the jungle!" Thorn said, still concerned over them harming the jungle even more.

"We need to get the Council out of here. And to do that, I need the shard."

Thorn paused. She thought about it for a moment before she sighed. "Take the shard... Take it and run as far and as fast as you can."

"Alright. Where is it?"

Thorn looked at Birdie, who fluttered his wings for a moment. He began to gag, choking up the entire shard back onto the ground.

Oh... She made him swallow it. 

Shadow made a controlled chaos field to clean the shard off before picking it up. He began to skate off, with eggforcers on his trail. 

"We can't let that hedgehog get away with the Shard!" Don't said. His eggforcer was knocked down by another spear.

Babble came back with his rattle mace, Windthrow dodging from being smashed by it as he climbed back onto the mech. He began to tear back into the mech, only to get thrown off of it.

Thorn leapt onto Birdie, dodging lasers before slamming her hammer into Babble's mech. He flew back, the rattle mace falling right off as he hit the stump.

The mech got up, seeing that the mace was now gone. He spit out his pacifier in stunned silence. 

"Hashtag: Uh oh." Don't said, growing concerned at what just happened.

Babble pressed the center of the roulette, trying to change the current option. It was broken, and he lost the only weapon he put out.

He began to bawl his eyes out and freak out, throwing a tantrum.

"Calm down! We need to go after the Shard. Shadow's getting away! Forget these losers!" Don't said.

Babble slammed his fists down repeatedly, the robot going on a full rampage.

"Stop! We gotta get the shard!" the robot was thrown a distance by Babble.

He was going on a full rampage, attacking whatever he saw by throwing eggforcers as the Boscage group quickly hid out. 

"Dust. Can you grab that creature?" Thorn asked.

"Got it." Dust used his psychokinesis to hold onto Babble's mech.

Thorn nodded to Windthrow, who scampered to the scene and climbed onto the mech. He tore into the inside, seeing the wailing baby.

He pulled him out of the mech and threw him again.

Shadow managed to build enough speed, seeing the figment of Infinite as he approached Mach one. 

"You need to run. Get to Ghost Hill, now!" he urged.

"I know. I'm getting there." Shadow said, continuing to pick up speed.

"But this jungle certainly isn't helping."

"Then go to somewhere more open!" Infinite said.

"Fine." Shadow spotted a vine spike, running up it and getting above the canopy before leaping off it.

They were so close, as the warp point was almost reached... And then the Mothership reappeared. Shadow knocked into it, continuing to hold the shard tightly as he fell back onto the canopy. 

This was bad, and he needed to find another way out without getting spotted.

More Eggforcers were deployed, swooping down and surrounding him. They were quickly picked up by a green aura before getting impaled by more spears. 

"We're here! Where'd you need to go?" Dust asked, getting back up to the canopy with everyone else.

"I need a runway. Can you all keep them busy so I can teleport out?" Shadow said.

"Not a problem." Prim agreed. She silently directed what to do before the group split up.

Shadow dove back underneath the canopy, speeding up as he saw the shuttle soar overhead. He crossed back into open territory before the green aura began to appear. 

He managed to finally warp his way out, landing on some dull shards while he held the green one in his hands. 

Now, to get it to Ghost Hill.

"Took you long enough." Infinite commented.

"I was busy." Shadow said, keeping his hold on the shard.

"Yeah yeah, sure."

"We have to return to Ghost Hill to put this shard in place."

"Then what? Let those idiots get the other shard? No. Give me it, and I'll put it back better than you ever will."

Shadow rolled his eyes at the last comment, holding it out for him to take. It was suddenly shot out of his hands by a laser, an eggforcer bolting past them and snatching the shard. 

"Oh come on! Hey, get back here you jerks!" Infinite ran after the Mothership.

... That backfired spectacularly. Shadow sighed, looking towards the blue gateway. 

"You handle them. I'll get the blue shard." Shadow instructed, leaping down and through the gateway.

He found himself flying through the sky, quickly using his air shoes to keep himself out of the water as he soared over the seas, in search of the No Place Pirates before the Council could reach their location.

Windthrow and Bullet belong to @son1c. Dust belongs to @starprincejelly

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

[uncleasad]

As we all knew would happen (you were placing bets, right), I couldn’t stick to the plan I outlined just one day prior…and I spent a bit of time Friday night starting the “awful father Alaric sells Josie” fic. (In my defense, I’d finally come up with the opening scenes earlier that day; I’ve been mentally outlining the broad strokes of the plot to about mid-story ever since luthorbae’s fic gave me the idea, but I hadn’t yet figured out how to start it.)

It’s only ~550 words—I spent the majority of my “writing period” surveying the history of US Territories, trying to decide when and where I wanted to set the fic—but I’m happy with the start.

Would you like an (unedited) excerpt? Then read on; I think I’ll give that a shot. Thoughts?

(Also, when did we get this neat “Keep reading” feature?)

Josie Saltzman was six years, three months, and five days old when the trajectory of her life was irrevocably altered. For that was the day she first met Hope Mikaelson.

“Daddy, Daddy!” An excited cry pierced the stillness. Then a small child clothed in a cheery yellow dress and wearing a smile on her face, her brunette locks flying behind her, ran from the forest towards a small, wooden house in a clearing.

“Josie!” A bearded man, his blonde hair showing the first signs of greying, stepped outside of the house at the commotion, scooping up the small child in his arms when she reached him. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Are you OK?”

“Who are the new neighbors, daddy?” the child inquired excitedly, barely out of breath despite her running.

“What new neighbors? Where?”

“I was out in the forest, down by the stream, and I heard trees being felled.”

“What were you doing in the forest,” the man replied, irritation rising in his voice. “You know you’re not supposed to go out into the forest, Josette; it’s not safe.”

“I was looking for birthroot,” the child beamed, ignoring her father’s scolding tone, proud of her quest for useful plants.

“Josie, you know you’re not supposed to go into the woods alone.”

“But Daddy, you never have time to go with me. You’re always busy with your books and papers, and I’m never going to find new plants staying here; I already know every plant in our clearing….”

The man released a sigh, running his hand through his hair. How did he end up with a child like Josette? He should be proud that she took after her mother and him, wanting to learn everything she could, in particular about plants and their useful and medicinal properties. But she was just too much for him to handle alone, and he had his articles to write. Sometimes he wished that they had never left the city so that he could pawn her off on one of her aunts while he completed his work. But, unfortunately, that proposition had been rendered untenable long ago.

“Can we go meet them?!” young girl asked excitedly, bouncing and grasping for his hands, breaking the man out of his thoughts. “Can we, daddy? Please?”

“I suppose, sweetie,” he relented. “It would be good to learn who has settled on the adjacent tract,” he added, more to himself than to his daughter.

“Hooray!” she replied excitedly. “Can we take them a pie, too?”

The man started to shake his head, knowing the hassle baking a pie would be—mostly to his day’s work plans; Josie was quite capable of making the pie herself, but she needed help with some of the ingredients and still should have some basic supervision. The tiny brunette, however, was persistent, and she deployed her secret weapon, a perfect pout arrayed across her cherubic lips. With an exaggerated sigh, the man finally gave in. “I suppose, sweetie. I guess we wouldn’t be very neighborly if we showed up empty-handed.”

He was Dr Alaric Saltzman, the country’s foremost expert on supernatural phenomena, with a PhD from Harvard, for god’s sake! How did he end up in the middle of the woods in the wilds of Minnesota Territory helping a six-year-old bake an apple pie?!

[euphoricsunflowers]

drowning in your scent — chae hyungwon

a/n: ajshdhs this this officially the longest fic on my blog by a whole lot (i think the only thing that comes somewhat close is queen’s whore at like 3.1k sheesh) so in the spirit of that! please give this fic a lot of love!!

word count: 4.7k

content: goddess au, sub!hyungwon, dom!fem!reader, the sex scene involves kissing, lip biting, neck kisses, and riding, fun stuff like that, and minhyuk is here!! he’s mentioned a lot lmao hyunghyuk besties

warning: this fanfic does take place in a village setting where there’s a bad harvest of food and so there’s a lot of mentions of food and starving. as someone with problems with food myself this could be potentially somewhat triggering so please don’t read if need be and i want to emphasize that if you need help to please reach out for it. i know what it’s like, please even feel free to reach out to me if need be, but do remember i’m not a professional.

summary: a boy from the village struggling through a bad harvest and the goddess of nature, of animals and forests, and of flowers so lovely the scent will make you dizzy, make a deal.

“hyungwon,” the voice calls out to him, and his heart aches when he sees it’s minhyuk that’s speaking to him. the usual cheer and brightness to minhyuk’s voice has all but vanished, “come on, we need to get to work,” he trudged slowly behind his friend, with minhyuk’s hand holding his own. there’s nothing but comradery between them, and yet hyungwon feels like he would trust minhyuk with his life.

“i hate this,” hyungwon murmurs under his breath, but he can faintly hear minhyuk chuckle at his whining, “i’m serious!! there’s barely any food and i’m starving and i’m supposed to pick fruit that i won’t even be allowed to eat?!”

minhyuk’s face is stone cold suddenly as he turns to, for lack of a better phrase, tell hyungwon to shut the hell up, “lower your voice,” he orders, and hyungwon deflates, but he obeys, and the quiet returns as they continue to walk to their spot in the field to pick the fruit, “i’m sorry, but i worry that being so outspoken will be your downfall, won.”

as they pick the apples, in silence from their short and blunt conversation, hyungwon spots one that stands out from the rest. he tries to resist getting a closer look at it, but he just can’t. he takes a few steps over towards it, subsequently a few steps away from minhyuk, and the apple does the rest. it’s almost hypnotic in the way hyungwon can’t take his eyes off of it. it’s red and glowing and hyungwon doesn’t know how he’s the only one captivated by the apple.

it’s like the fruit is speaking to him, calling him away, and he starts walking, even when minhyuk calls after him, he knows minhyuk spoke even though he couldn’t hear him. he walks for a few minutes, through the trees and the dense forest that he’s never traversed before. he doesn’t have to constantly gaze at the apple now, but he grips it in his hand like his life depends on it.

he comes upon a small statue hidden in the depths of the forest. it’s a stone carving of a bird, wings spread as if flying through the sky. it’s beautiful.

“isn’t it?” he hears from behind him, actually registering someone spoke to him this time, and he turns to see who it is. instead of the face of cheerful minhyuk he’s so used to seeing, a beautiful figure graces his eyes.

hyungwon can’t even focus on the physique, though, he’s too entranced by the piercing eyes that stare into his soul practically and the voice he can hear ringing in his head. “isn’t it, dear?” your voice repeats again, and he feels compelled to answer, though he’s not exactly sure how you read his thoughts. maybe he had actually said them out loud.

“yes,” he murmurs softly, turning back to look at the statue, “it’s gorgeous,” he takes a step closer to the statue to get a closer look.

“your voice,” you speak again, “i- nevermind,” you stop yourself, instead choosing to take a step closer to him, your hand touches his shoulder, “can i help you with something, dear?”

“i- what?” he’s taken aback by your question, because he didn’t search you or this place out, he was practically lured here by the fruit, “no, i-i’m okay, thank you though.”

“are you sure?” your touch on his shoulder finally registers in his head, like all his reactions are slowed and delayed, “if you’re not here for something, then… why are you here?”

“i dont… i don’t know,” he was never loud, but he’s even quieter now, “the apple… it led me here.”

you suddenly fell silent. he wonders if you used to apple to lure him, if this is a trap, but your touch is still so distracting and he can’t bring himself to care much. you look so harmless, with such pretty features that he wants to stare at forever.

it does make him wonder, however, just why your tone was so brazen when he said he wasn’t here to ask anything of you. you looked baffled when he said no, like that was the only reason you expected him to be here, “do people always just come searching for you… asking for things?”

“yes, they do,” you respond bluntly, but your words aren’t hostile. he faintly feels a sense of pity in his heart for you.

“that sounds like… such a sad existence,” the words leave his lips without him really putting much thought into them.

“it is,” you say as silence falls between the two of you before he speaks up.

“you uhm… are you… human?” you’re a beautiful yet lonely person in the forest, and it makes him wonder if you even are a person.

“no, dear,” you say as you lift your hand, the grass beneath both of you growing as you do so, “i am a being that represents nature. i think you humans would call me a god or goddess?”

“oh that’s… incredible. please explain to me more,” his eyes find you once again, watching you with already such a soft, adoring gaze.

“you just want to hear me talk, little human,” your tone is playful as his cheeks become rosy.

“maybe,” he smiles cheekily, “will you still explain it to me?”

“of course, sit with me and the flowers, will you?” you ask him, and he plops on the ground, sitting with his legs crossed as you begin, “i can control how nature exists in this world. i can make your flowers grow or trees in your forest more dense. you humans also love to hunt the sweet animals i create, ”

you pause, as if to give him a chance to speak up, and he does, “i’m sorry about that.”

“it’s alright, dear, your apologies are not necessary. besides, once they do die, they become gifts for other gods, and those gods treat their gifts from me very well,” you smile somberly, “tell me, how are you humans doing?”

he wants to lie, for some reason. he has an urge to just say ‘everything is fine, let’s just talk about happy things. i want to be happy’ but he doesn’t, “we’re… you want my honesty, right?”

“yes, yes absolutely,”

“we’re suffering. there’s too little food for everyone,” his stomach rumbles as he’s in the middle speaking, and he makes a sort of ‘see what i mean?’ gesture, “and we barely have enough to keep everyone alive through the month..”

you subtly gasp at his confession he just gives so easily, “and yet you were expected to pick fruit? that seems unfair, dear.”

“it was work that had to be done for the good fo the village,” he lowers his head at the thoughts racing through his head, envisioning the soft eyes of his friend, “but min- uh, my friend, he’s all i have. i know i… said i didn’t have anything to ask of you… and this may seem too much of me to ask, but now that i know what you are and can do, could you please help them? the people of my village, i mean,” he pleads, his eyes shining in the light.

“you want me to… provide them food?”

“please, i’d do anything,”

your face is suddenly much more serious, and you grip his shoulder as you lean in close to him, “for future reference, dear, don’t ever tell a being like me you’d do anything. ever. got it?” you were kind. you knew you were kind, but there were some that would rip his poor, innocent heart to shreds, steal his soul because he didn’t read the fine print. you’re relieved someone so soft and sweet and almost angelic stumbled upon you of all beings.

“yes,” he practically squeaks.

“good,” you sigh as you stand up, “i will help you, little thing. in return, please stay with me for one day. tomorrow afternoon, at this exact hour, you can return to the village,” you extend your hand for him to shake, “are those terms agreeable to you, my little human?”

his heart pounds in his chest. you want him to stay with you? for a whole day? he decides it’s a price that’s easy to pay if he remembers the prospect of being able to save him friend and his people from starvation “yes,” he murmurs, reaching out to shake your hand.

—

it doesn’t take much effort from you, just a wave of your hand and apparently, the harvest in the village would magically improve. he supposes one day is not a lot of his little time to give up if it meant the village could be revitalized with a bountiful amount of food. he just hopes minhyuk isn’t worrying too much.

you have a cottage of your own, he learns. it confuses him slightly because you’re a goddess, why would you need a very human-esque living space? he supposes he’ll never learn the answer to that question. the thing itself is impossible to see from the outside, he could have sworn nothing was there until your hand was in his (his heart stopped for a good minute) and you led him up the stairway leading into the cottage.

“make yourself at home,” you tell him, and he nods in a daze. your place was beautiful, full of flowers and vases with more flowers and little flower trinkets on the table and mugs with flower designs. judging from anything you considered to be your domain, you seem to like flowers. the softness of the atmosphere is calming to him, the scent of all the flowers is overwhelming, his knees are weak.

“what- what are you going to do with me for this day that you have me? you must have some plan for me,” you tilt your head with a faint smile on your lips as he sits beside you on the couch, “do you want me to work? am i a servant? please, all cards on the table, tell me what you want from me.”

“all cards on the table?” you echo, and he nods, for a second wondering if you just straight up didn’t know what he meant, but you lean in to him, close enough to just barely need to lean just a little more and you’d be kissing him, “i just think you’re cute. forgive me if i just wanted a day to gaze at you.”

he’s startled as you pull yourself away, leaving him flustered and blushing and stuttering as you excuse yourself outside to grow more flowers. he sees the beautiful sunflowers and roses and tulips and then his eyes find you once more. your beauty just radiates, it’s so overwhelming and intoxicating that he feels the safest really taking it all in when you’re focused on your flowers, not leaving him a blushing mess whilst so close to kissing him he just might faint.

the sun hits your skin in such a beautiful way that he can’t can’t stop staring. it’s ironic how you wanted him to stay for a night because you thought he was cute but he cannot take his eyes off of your beautiful smile and hair and demeanor and just… aura. your presence is so soft and comforting yet so overwhelming to him. it’s all something he can’t understand.

you return a few hours later, having given your guest time to really settle in. as you open the door, he’s in the kitchen area with one of your mugs, drinking a cup of tea peacefully and quietly, “welcome back,” he mumbles with a smile.

“hi there, little human,” you smile back at him, taking a seat beside him, “i’m… sorry. i know you were probably lonely, here all by yourself-“

“no, i actually enjoy the quiet. it beats picking fruit,” he shrugs.

“speaking of food, i was able to grant your request, but i completely forgot about you. would you like something specific to be prepared for your evening meal?” hyungwon forgot what it was like when there wasn’t barely enough food to survive on. he tells you his wishes for meat and vegetables and starches his stomach aches for, “alright, dear. sit at the counter with me as i cook.”

he’s stunned for a second, “i didn’t know you can cook.”

“you don’t know my name, my sweet. we have a lot to learn about each other.”

“what is your name?” he asks, and you giggle to yourself, having known he’d ask it the moment you brought up the fact that he hadn’t yet.

“y/n,” you answer, finding the spices you wanted, “and yours, my beautiful flower?”

his heart skips a beat at the endearing term you use. at this point, he wonders if you’re getting enjoyment out of flustering him so helplessly like this, “hyungwon,” he sees the way you smile when you hear his name. it makes him smile too.

“hyungwon… what a beautiful name you have, my dear. it’s fitting, for someone as beautiful as you,” at this point he’s absolutely sure you’re getting a kick out of making him a flustered mess, because now his cheeks are red and he can’t meet your gaze, “sorry, i don’t mean to fluster you—,” liar, he thinks, “— i just can’t help adoring you.”

“you’re too much for my weak heart,” he mumbles exasperatedly as you cook, looking over at him with that cheeky smile on your face like you know just how much you wreck his heart and his composure.

you seat him at the small-but-not-too-small dinner table, bringing plates of food and finally sitting at the seat across from him, “eat as much or as little as you want, dear.”

he goes to ask before he puts too much thought into the question, “are you not gonna eat-? oh, wait, nevermind, do you not need to?” you nod, smiling.

“i’m grateful that you think of me, angel, but you’re correct: this is all for you,” and while he’d theoretically be hesitant to eat while you just sit there, he finally remembered just how hungry he was, and so it would have taken much more restraint than he currently had to restrain himself.

after dinner, you lead him him to the bedroom in your cottage. emphasis on the singularity in that term, “oh- uh, a-am i going to sleep with you-?” he stutters.

“you can, you don’t have to if you don’t wish to, flower. i don’t really have to sleep so if you want the bed all to yourself, then it’s yours. i just… i thought maybe- you know what,” you tone changes suddenly, and he’d be damned if he didn’t catch it, “nevermind. take the room. call for me if you need me, i’ll be outside with the flowers again-“

“wait!” he calls out as you turn to leave him alone. you look over at him, eyes shining so beautifully in the moonlight.

“yes, my flower?”

he’s flustered once again, but he can’t help wanting you to stay with him. he reaches his hand out to you, similarly to how you reached yours out to him, “stay with me?”

you accept the proposal, sitting on the bed with him, weaving a few flowers into a flower crown while he lays on his side, watching you work on the crown like it was the most entertaining thing in the world.

“i think sunflowers will look pretty against your skin, hyungwon,” you mumble, keeping your voice soft as to not disrupt the peaceful atmosphere you’ve both created, and he smiles bashfully at your words, “truly, i think anything would look beautiful on you, but the yellows would really bring out the strong, almost sensual browns in your eyes. can- can i?”

he nods in consent, sitting up and sitting still for you, and your fingers gracefully position the crown on top of his head, “ah, do i look good with it on?”

“oh absolutely, sweetheart, but,” you scoot closer to him, and once again, his heart beats rapidly and his thoughts evaporate into thin air, replaced by the bashful shyness and the way he’s suffocated by your scent, breathing it in like it’s a drug, “in my opinion, you’re the most beautiful.”

he can’t breathe.

“i-i, um, oh my god,” he stammers, so shy as you smile at how he struggles.

“can i kiss you, pretty boy?” you whisper, your hand raising to hold his cheek as you gaze at his lips. it’s subtle, probably because he was malfunctioning inside, but he nods, closing his eyes and passively waiting for your lips on his.

he didn’t know what to expect, with you being a god and all, but it was so much more than he could have prepared himself for, both mentally and physically. it was a rush if he’d ever felt one, both his body on fire and goosebumps lining his skin.

your style of kissing makes him ache in so many ways. his lips will definitely be bruised from the way you bite them, drawing blood like a vampire but in the kindest way possible, your hand cupping his cheek and you other rubbing his thigh soothingly is enough to keep him from crying out because of the pain.

“stop me, hyungwon,” you mumble under your breath, “if you don’t want this, you need to stop me. tell me to stop and i will,” but how did you ever expect him to do that when he’s already so wrecked and all you’ve done is kissed?

“don’t,” he whispers, “don’t stop, please,” and you oblige, keeping your lips busy on his neck as he groans, reaching out to hold your waist, “please,” he echos his own words weakly.

“tell me what you want, i’ll do it, just tell me,” you see how choked up he is, and it’s cute how easily he’s wrapped around your finger, “tell me, tell me, my flower.”

“touch me more,” he breathes, and you help him throw off his shirt. your hands are all over him in an instant, you press kisses down his neck, paying attention to his chest as your hands wander lower and lower.

he bites his lip in anticipation, but it feels just like how it felt when you bit his lip before and he audibly moans at the recent memory. it’s almost embarrassing when he realizes just how openly and easily he’s been moaning since you started.

and it’s not like he exactly expected a warning, but he wasn’t ready for when one of your hands started rubbing his crotch and making him moan and whine helplessly, “please don’t tease me.”

“hm, alright, sweet thing. how about i ride you? would you like that?” he nods desperately, weak at the thought of you using him for your own pleasure and leaving him to drown in the overwhelming pleasure you give him, “take off your pants and underwear, then.”

he scrambles to do as you say, watching with his jaw dropped as you make the garments you wear all but disappear with just a wave of your hand, and he’s intimately reminded that you’re not human, that he shouldn’t have trusted you so implicitly as to let you put him in this position, and that he’s playing a game where he doesn’t know the rules.

but then he sees the genuineness in your smile, the way you treat him so kindly yet assertively, soft yet harsh, and he just can’t fathom being in any real danger when he’s being swallowed by so much pleasure when he’s under you like this.

he’d been zoned out for a few moments until you’re actually riding him already, holding his hand in a softness that makes him weak. he suddenly notices the flowers in your hair, the way your nose crinkles up when you smile down at him, the way looking at your lips reminds him of the ache on his. it’s incredible just how infatuated he is, the way he adores so much being not just under you in a physical sense but also being under your spell.

he moans in such a heavenly bliss, eyes fluttered shut as he can only hear his own voice make sounds that would normally make him embarrassed. he can’t bother to care right now because when he opens his eyes, you seem to like the sounds he makes. and he wants to please.

“hyungwon, d-dear,” you murmur, your hands resting on his chest to keep yourself stable on his chest, “i can’t keep my eyes off of you, baby. you’re absolutely ethereal. so please, can you show me how pretty you are when you cum? can you cum for me, my flower?”

god that name was the most precious thing to him, he wanted to be your beautiful flower forever.

he does cum. he orgasms viscerally, his body trembling as he throws his head back, his jaw slacked as he moans loudly, cumming so hard he can see white.

he stays in that headspace of pleasure, higher than the clouds, for a few moments as the high subsides and he’s left with a euphoric feeling that keeps him shivering with aftershocks, until he starts to hear your voice. you whisper little nothings to him as he starts to come down completely, “i’ve got you, little thing, don’t worry, you’re safe with me.”

he briefly ponders why you keep calling him ‘little thing’ when he’s as tall as he is, but your kisses to him temple take that thought away, “y/n?”

“yes, dear?”

“can you sleep with me?” he asks, not realizing that you already told him that you don’t need to sleep.

still, you can’t resist him when he’s just so adorable with that pout he probably doesn’t even realize he’s making, “of course, let’s clean up just a little bit, and i’ll lay with you while you sleep, angel.”

—

morning comes far too soon. you still have him for another 7ish hours, but once they’re up, he’ll return to his village, to that friend he mentioned, and disappear from your existence forever. it’s almost pitiful how quickly you became attached to the pretty thing.

you look over at him, sleeping so, so peacefully, his cheek squished against the pillow while he pouts and you can’t help but coo at how precious he looks.

it’s impossible to imagine a life anymore where you can’t keep looking at his face, at his pretty lips (that are covered in bruises in a way that makes this moment a bit less melancholic and innocent), at the softness in his eyes when he gazed at you. what a miserable fate that would be to live through.

“what’s on your mind?” you hear him groan tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. you go to object, say ‘of course it’s nothing just go back to sleep dear’, but he catches it and, even in the early morning, he won’t take a lie.

“i just… you have a life to return to, and i don’t want to deprive you of that. i’ve just grown to like you, is all,” you murmur as you run your fingers through his hair, hearing his soft gums of contentment, “an existence of being by yourself might make one somewhat… easily attached.”

hyungwon doesn’t know how to respond, but he sits up, despite the tiredness that still rests in his body, he moves to get himself out of bed, using his hand to brush his hair out of his face, “we still have time together, so let’s do something you want to do.”

“like what?” you smile sadly, “what should we do?”

“hmm…” he makes a really cute face when he thinks, you realize, and it just makes you fall a little bit more, “well you really like flowers right?”

“of course,”

hyungwon’s face lights up, like he’s had a sudden realization, “oh! then what if we painted? i have minhyuk’s paints in my bag!! minhyuk told me to hold onto them for the day and i kept them on me!”

“wha- what if your friend doesn’t want you to use them?” you stutter, but you can feel that you’re already on board.

“then that’s his problem!”

now to be honest, painting was not hyungwon’s strong suit, but he had such a fun time with mixing colors and making flowers that don’t really look like flowers come to life on the many wooden walls of your cottage. neither of you had brushes either, so it was really just fingerpainting, and by the end, your hands were covered in myriads of greens and yellows and pinks reds and blues tinted by the white, they were almost works of art themselves.

and after hours of painting, making more flower crowns, even teaching him to make flower crowns, and more activities, your time with him was dwindling. of course, he doesn’t have to leave, but the time that he had to stay was slowly slipping away from you.

“hyungwon,” you mumble, getting his attention as he sits on the couch while you were supposedly making tea. you raise your hand, displaying a bright red apple, “this is the one from yesterday, right?”

“y-yeah, i think so, why?”

“i- come here, please.”

he wobbles over to the kitchen, sitting beside you as you show off the fruit, “what’s going on?”

“remember when you told me the apple lead to you the statue?” he nods, “this apple is blessed with my energy. it’s… magical, in a human sense. i just want to apologize for decieving and likely confusing you yesterday,” you look down at the fruit, shiny and glowing red with liveliness, “but i have a… proposal of sorts.”

“i- alright, what is it?”

“take a bite,” you say, your tone heavy with implications of what will happen, “take a bite, and stay with me, will you?”

“what- what about my family? my friend? what about the life that i have?” he asks, but it’s all rhetorical, he doesn’t expect a serious answer, “i was willing to give you a day, i can’t give you my life.”

why can’t you, you feel the urge to murmur to him, why can’t you give that all up? you know i’m all you want now, you’ll only spiral down even further into me, “you don’t have to eat it all, just a bite, just one.”

“what- why are you so adamant that i eat that apple?”

“because!” your voice cracks ever so slightly, and once again his heart aches and he rushes to attempt to soothe you, to hold your heart in his hands and never once let it be hurt, “because you are all i want, hyungwon,” you mumble as he hugs you, resting your head against him, “because i want you to return to your friend and your village, but i’m selfish, i’m so, so selfish. this is the best middle ground i could think of.”

“...what does taking a bite entail?” he asks tentatively, and his heart jumps when he sees your eyes shine with hope. whether or not you know it, you’ve got him good.

“half the time, you’ll be mine. your soul has to reside in my domain, your heart will constantly ache for me,” you murmur, your hands suddenly wandering and he chokes out a moan, “but the rest of the time, you can return to the village. you can return to your life, and i will not make any attempts to steal you away during that time.”

he’s left speechless, not exactly sure what you’d want him to say now, but you place the apple in his hands, pressing a few faint kisses to the edge of his lips just to fluster him, but then you disappear outside. he watches you through the window as you tend to your flowers, picking a sunflower to place into your hair. he’s so entranced by the way you move that he can barely focus on what he needs to focus on: the apple.

he wonders what minhyuk is feeling right now. he’s probably worried to death, horrified out of his mind that his friend just disappeared into the forest. he wants so badly to go back and reassure him that nothing bad happened and go back to the way things were except things would be better.

but he does also feel a sense of… devotion? infatuation? love, maybe? whatever it is, he feels something towards you. his heart aches to please you, to do in this situation what would make you happy. the way you looked when you were so emotionally vulnerable with him, you didn’t seem like a god that he had to worship in that moment, you seemed like a soul that he wanted to love. it’s this feeling deep in his soul that just leaves him, both his heart and his body, utterly defenseless to the prospect of you.

so this is the end of him as he’s been for his whole life. or at least, in a sense, half of him. he’s grateful that you went outside to let his head clear just a bit, it’s always so clouded with you and your scent and your aura that he feels delusional. he tosses the apple around anxiously as he tries to decide what to do, but in the end, there’s not a chance in the world that he could ever go against what would make you happy.

he tries to delude himself into thinking it’s a conscious choice he makes, but he knows he’s lying; he just doesn’t want to accept it. he’s been a wreck since the moment you lured him away with the very apple he holds, there’s not a single reality in which he gives you up. his heart aches to protect yours, and his body wishes to be ruined by yours.

he takes a bite. he’s yours.

—

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[ollieofthebeholder]

For We Are Afar With the Dawning: A RQG Fic

Also on AO3. Contains spoilers for Episode 207.

Augusta is floating. Both literally and metaphorically.

Mentally, she’s floating on a peachy-pink cloud of euphoria and warmth and happiness and contentment. It’s an absolutely perfect day, the kind of day she never gets to experience anymore. The sky is a clear blue dotted with puffy white clouds, the sun bright enough to illuminate the scene but not so bright to hurt the eyes, and it’s pleasantly warm without being oppressively hot. The gentle, cooling breeze brings with it the faint scents of something floral; Augusta’s never been all that great with scents per se, but she thinks it might be roses or something.

Physically, she’s in a rowboat in the middle of a glassy lake, lying on her back with her arms folded contentedly over her chest and her head resting on a lap that seems to mostly comprise of white illusion. Augusta herself is wearing a loose-fitting lawn shirt and a pair of trousers, her feet bare. A pair of oars rest in the locks on either side, but nobody is using them.

“You know, Gus, I think you’re going to have a curly crop when this grows out a bit.” Delicate fingers run through Augusta’s delightfully short hair. “You’re going to look quite rakish.”

“Just so you don’t try to get me to wear one of those dreadful outfits you were talking about that boy wearing in your book.” Augusta smiles. “Really, Lou, where’d you come up with that? Nobody actually dresses like that.”

Louisa laughs. “I wanted it to be really clear that there was no way Jo would ever fall in love with him. Why would she love someone who dresses like that?”

“You should have given one of the girls who came to the Christmas play a name,” Augusta says. “And a personality. And a reason to come back.”

“Are you suggesting I should have put you in the book after all? I thought you didn’t like publicity, O Best Beloved.”

“I don’t like being tied to my brother. Being tied to you is different.” Augusta punctuates this by reaching up and twirling a strand of Louisa’s dark hair around a finger.

Louisa swats her hand away, but she’s laughing again. “Are you going to row us back to shore at any point? Mary and Emma should be here soon. Your Sasha was going to take the carriage and go get them.”

“She’s not my Sasha,” Augusta protests.

“She could be, if you asked, I’m sure. You know we’re all just yours for the asking.”

“Oh, stop it. That’s not how this works.”

“You can’t tell me the idea doesn’t appeal to you,” Louisa says relentlessly. “Having your own personal harem of beautiful and brilliant women. Mary for those delightful scientific discussions and Emmuska for solving puzzles and mysteries and Sasha for going on daring adventures and robbing tombs with and me for...well, when you want to be lazy and bored, I suppose.”

“Louisa May Alcott.” Augusta sits up and takes both of Louisa’s hands in hers. “You have no idea how happy I am. Right here. With you. I don’t need anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Sasha and Mary and Emmuska and I love having them around...and you’re right, Sasha’s so much fun to go poking around places we aren’t wanted with. But if none of them were here, I’d be happy just the same. Maybe more so. Being with you?” She brings Louisa’s hands up and kisses them tenderly. “This is perfect.”

Louisa blushes beautifully, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to row back to shore.”

Augusta laughs. “You wound me. Right here.” She places one hand over her heart.

She’s joking, but suddenly, it feels like Louisa—or someone—has wounded her. There’s a sudden, sharp, stabbing pain in her heart, and the last thing she sees is Louisa’s sparkling eyes and sweet smile before the world goes white.

It resolves after a moment. Now instead of sitting in a boat, Augusta is sitting on a rock in a clearing in a verdant  forest. Looking up, she can see the night sky and the stars, so many stars, more than she’s ever seen, and the sweep of the Milky Way looks almost green. The moon shines down on the clearing and illuminates her.

Augusta looks down at herself. She’s wearing more practical clothes now—boots, trousers, tunic, leather jacket—actually, it’s a lot like what Sasha Rackett wore when Augusta first met her, nearly two years ago now, except newer and neater. Across her lap is a well-made crossbow.

A big beast swoops overhead, one Augusta can’t identify (she grew up in a city and the only kind of hunting really considered proper for young ladies of her station was foxhunting). A moment later, there’s a rustle in the undergrowth, and a figure pops out into the clearing, a short figure with outsize ears and a drawn bow.

“Wotcher,” the figure says. “Seen a big beastie go by here?”

“It went that way,” Augusta says, pointing the direction she saw the beast fly. “What is it?”

The hunter—she presumes—shrugs. “Dunno. Still haven’t figured it out. Haven’t caught it yet. Maybe once I do, I’ll know. For now I just call it The Beast.”

He doesn’t seem particularly put out by this. He has a hunt, and what exactly he’s hunting doesn’t seem to matter much; he’ll find the answers when he finds the beast. It’s something Augusta feels an odd kinship towards. “How long have you been hunting it?”

The hunter shrugs again. “Dunno. What year is it?”

Augusta tells him. The hunter draws in a breath, then nods. “Well, then...two thousand years, give or take a couple hundred.”

“Ah.” Augusta looks around her. “We’re dead, then.”

“Probably, yeah. Well, I know I am. You probably are too. What were you doing?”

Augusta thinks for a moment. “Dreaming.”

The hunter snorts. “Not the best way to go out.”

“It’s not like I chose to go out that way. I’d rather have gone down fighting.”  Augusta sighs. “At least it was a pleasant dream, though.”

She touches her chest, out of habit, and has a moment of panic when she can’t find what she’s looking for. Frantically, she scrambles at her neck until she finds the fine chain, then pulls it out and breathes a sigh of relief when the heavy silver locket lands in her palm. Just to be sure, she pops it open, and Louisa’s eyes stare back at her.

Augusta smiles back at the picture, then looks up to see the hunter staring at her inscrutably. She coughs and closes the locket. “Sorry. Just...checking.”

The hunter reaches into his own clothing and pulls out a photograph, but doesn’t show it to her—which startles Augusta, as she didn’t think photographs were that old—before putting it back. “It’s important to hold onto these things. Until you find them. Everything dies, after all.”

“That...probably shouldn’t be comforting, and yet…” Augusta takes a deep breath. “Everything does die, doesn’t it? I don’t know that this is exactly her idea of paradise, though.” Then again, she hadn’t realized it was hers, either.

The hunter shrugs. “Probably not theirs, either. But they all connect. I’ve got a camp set up.” He gestures off to one side. “Check in there every few...decades, maybe. Just to see if they’re there yet. It’ll be nice to have a home to come back to, someday, but for now...there’s the hunt.”

Augusta considers that as she tucks the locket back into her shirt, then looks down at the crossbow on her lap. “I’ve never really hunted in forests before, but I’m not bad at hunting in general.”

“I’d be willing to teach you some tactics. If you’re interested. Just until we both find what we’re looking for.”

Augusta stands up, shoulders the crossbow, and holds out her other hand. “My friends call me Gus.”

The hunter grins, red eyes sparkling, as he accepts her handshake. “Grizzop.”

~*~*~*~

Sumutnyerl soars, buoyed up by a thermal, then banks to one side and swoops low, skimming over the grass. This is their favorite form; they love to fly, and it’s a perfect day for it.

Beside them, another eagle tacks and swoops playfully, then sheers off. Sumutnyerl beats her wings to gain a bit of altitude and follows. For a moment, they race one another straight up into the air. Then the other eagle dips backwards into a loop. Sumutnyerl screeches in delight and goes into a spiraling dive, weaving around the other.

They continue this sky-dance for several minutes before the other leads up to the branches of a tree; Sumutnyerl follows and lands on a branch, then transforms back. They’re already laughing with delight. “I never get tired of that.”

“Nor should you.” Oblaitko smiles warmly, their eyes soft and kind. “The day one grows accustomed to the gifts that have been given is the day one ceases to live and begins to only exist.”

“I mean doing it with you.” Sumutnyerl looks out over the rolling meadow. “I would that we could do this forever.”

“We can,” Oblaitko answers. “Our duties are...light. And not incompatible. We needn’t go back to the town at all. You can attend to the Garden, I to the River, and we can spend the rest of our time here.”

Sumutnyerl considers. The idea is...not unwelcome. She feels an utter sense of peace here, with Oblaitko by their side. More than that, they feel like herself, like an individual and not just part of a collective.

“I would like that,” they say at last. “Very much.”

Oblaitko tucks a strand of Sumutnyerl’s hair behind their ear. “As would I.”

“A bargain, then.”

“A bargain,” Oblaitko agrees. “We can ask permission in the morning, but I hardly think the Council will object. It will save resources, after all.”

Sumutnyerl sighs and leans their head on Oblaitko’s shoulder. They place their arm around her shoulders and pull them close, one hand idly resting over their heart.

For just a second, Sumutnyerl wonders if Oblaitko is concealing a blade, because they suddenly feel a sharp, stabbing pain in their chest. They look up in shock, but there’s nothing on Oblaitko’s face to indicate they’re doing anything...and then the world goes white.

When Sumutnyerl’s vision clears, they are no longer in the branches of a tree, but somewhere else, somewhere far too familiar. Awareness settles on Sumutnyerl’s shoulders as they look around the Garden of Yerlick, but not as it is in life—currently or under ordinary circumstances. The flowers bloom as they past, trees put out their hands like old friends, and the spirits of the dead are instantly visible, smiling and calling to them.

Ah. This again.

“Sumutnyerl?”

Sumutnyerl turns and smiles again. Oblaitko stands before them once more, not in the same form as a moment ago—no longer young, their hair white, their back bent with age and the weight of their position—but their eyes are the same warm, kind brown they have always been .Right now, they are wide with shock and not a little sorrow.

“Hello, my dear friend,” Sumutnyerl says.

“Sumutnyerl,” Oblaitko says again. “Why...how are you here? Like this? You—you mustn’t. It isn’t your time.”

“Perhaps not,” Sumutnyerl agrees. They touch their heart, where the phantom pain is fading fast. “I—I believe I may have been stabbed in my sleep.” Like Nik, they think, with a mingling of regret and anger.

“You will be given another chance.” Oblaitko states this quite calmly, as if it is a given fact rather than an opinion...or a hope. “The Garden needs you. Our people need you.”

“Perhaps I shall be given the offer,” Sumutnyerl replies. “And...perhaps I will accept. But...well. There is much that has happened. Perhaps if I am not needed...perhaps if my last great task has been fulfilled after all…” They hold out their hands. “Would you allow me to stay?”

Oblaitko takes Sumutnyerl’s hands, and stares into their eyes, and no other words are necessary.

~*~*~*~

Hamid knows, on some level, that he’s dreaming, if only because Zolf isn’t really one for parties. That doesn’t stop him from being happy, though. Hamid’s sleep for the past few months has been dreamless at best, teeming with nightmares more commonly, and occasionally non-existent at worst. A part of him has started to believe he’ll never have beautiful dreams again, so the fact that this is a good dream means he’s going to enjoy it for all it’s worth.

And the others all look happy, too. Aziza sings beautifully, her eyes sparkling and face expressive, and her husband gazes on her with a proud, adoring smile. Saleh, his wife, and Hamid’s mother are listening to Oscar tell some story, gesturing dramatically with his drink, his other hand being occupied holding Zolf’s. Zolf has a faint smile on his face as he listens to a story he’s probably heard a hundred times—hell, it’s probably one he was there for, those are Oscar’s favorite stories after all—but that he never gets tired of hearing Oscar tell. Hamid’s father looks more relaxed and content than Hamid has seen him...well, ever since he started paying attention anyway, deep in conversation with Saira and Apophis. Azu, wearing the gown she and Hamid designed together for the opening of the so-called Bow Bar, is making a valiant effort at letting Ismail teach her one of the fancy dances he’s learned, while Ishaq enthusiastically does the same with Cel. Skraak and Grizzop have become fast friends, which Hamid isn’t surprised by, and he wonders what they’re talking about and if he’s going to have to help Zolf clean it up later.

Hamid dances. He loves to dance, almost as much as he loves to fly, and he doesn’t really mind that he doesn’t have a partner at the moment. As he spins, putting in one of the fanciest twirls he knows, he catches Sasha’s eye across the room and grins; she grins back and shoots him a double thumbs-up.

Hamid starts in Sasha’s direction. She’s so good on her feet, he thinks, she’ll be really good at dancing, and she’ll love it. Aziza’s just wrapping up the song she’s currently working on, and Hamid’s pretty sure she’s going to go into the aria from Act I of Carmen, which was her first leading role and one she’s quite proud of. Hamid knows with absolute certainty that Sasha will kill it at a tango.

Before he gets to her, he passes his mother and gets a kiss on the cheek. Saleh gives him a friendly poke in the chest as he passes, which actually hurts a lot more than Hamid is expecting, but he tries to laugh it off, especially as Saleh is laughing, too.

Zolf turns to face him. Letting go of Oscar’s hand, he reaches over and touches Hamid’s forehead with one thumb. He’s still smiling a little, and the look in his eyes is one he hasn’t given Hamid in a long time—not since the beach south of Calais, after they survived the storm sailing from Dover. It warms Hamid all the way to his toes.

“It won’t end this way,” he says, and while he sounds like he’s talking at an ordinary volume, Hamid somehow gets the feeling that nobody can hear Zolf’s words but him. “I won’t let it. Your heart’s too big to be destroyed by something like this.”

Hamid feels simultaneously stronger than he has in ages and like something’s being sucked out of his lungs. His wings unfurl from his back before he completely registers that the music is gone.

He blinks. Someone is holding him—it feels like Cel—and it’s dark. The memory of the lights dimming and then going out comes to him...and they’d been heading to the lab, he remembers, because of the tunnel, but what—?

Zolf’s voice comes from not very far in front of him. “Get in in the door, and get safe.”

Hamid blinks again. That’s an order, they’re in the field—he promised he would follow Zolf’s orders in the field, so even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, he’s going to do what he’s just been told and he can ask questions once they’re all safe. Surely Zolf will be right behind him.

He takes in a breath to acknowledge his instructions—and sucks in a lungful of sweet-smelling gas. Instantly, he drops unconscious back into Cel’s arms.

He blinks and he’s at the party again. Zolf is still standing in front of him, smiling as he turns back to the conversation—did he leave for a minute? No, surely not, Hamid’s been here the whole time, he thinks fuzzily.

The song wraps up on a triumphant sting, and there’s a smattering of polite applause, and then just as Hamid suspected, the music starts up and it’s “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” from Carmen. He hurries over to Sasha and holds out a hand. “Sasha, come on, you’ll love this!” he cries.

Laughing, Sasha takes his hand and lets him pull her onto the ballroom floor. She’s a natural at the tango. Hamid would never have dared ask anyone else to do this dance with him; it’s a fiery dance of passion, usually, but this is Sasha and she’s just his favorite sister, as far as he’s concerned, even if she’s not his sister by blood. There’s no romance behind what they’re doing here, no heat. They’re just two kids having fun, really, laughing and taking increasingly flamboyant chances with the flashier moves.

He ends the dance by dipping her, somehow, despite the fact that she’s two feet taller than he is, but they’re both flushed and laughing and having a great time. It doesn’t even matter that they overbalance and fall onto the dance floor. Nobody’s really watching them anyway, which is just the way Hamid wants it right now. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention all the time. Not even most of the time.

“I like your wings,” Sasha says, poking one of them, and when did they come out? Hamid genuinely can’t remember. “This ‘cause you’re a Meritocrat?”

“I’m descended from a dragon,” Hamid corrects her. “I’m not a Meritocrat.”

“Good. But the wings are cool anyway. Do they work?”

“Oh! Yes. Want to see?” Hamid gets to his feet and manages—somehow—to pull Sasha up too. “I can cast fly on you and we can—”

“No,” Sasha interrupts, surprising him. She pulls him into a tight hug, and, oh, Sasha gives the best hugs. Hamid’s always suspected she would, but she’s always been iffy about being touched. If his wings hadn’t already popped out with joy—apparently—they would be bursting out now. He hugs her back just as tightly as she lifts him off the ground with the force of her embrace..

“Don’t you give up, Hamid,” she says in his ear. “Don’t you do it. There’s no dream so good it’s worth losing the whole world for. You get back out there and you fight to make the world this good. Because this right here? This is worth fighting for.”

Just a little of the euphoria peels back from the edges of Hamid’s mind, and he clings to Sasha a little tighter. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“’M always with you, mate. Just like you were always with me. We’ll meet again. But right now, you’ve got to go save the world for me.” Sasha pulls back enough to smile at him, and her eyes are wet. “Make it a good one.”

Hamid’s eyes snap open.

~*~*~*~

If you had asked Oscar even a year ago, he would never have described this as the most perfect moment of his life. He would have said that the most perfect moment he could imagine is a gala celebrating the opening of his greatest work, a play that will be talked about through the ages and mean his name lives on long after he does, resplendent in his finest clothes, a rapt audience listening to him declaim his opinions—finally being the center of attention for art instead of admin.

But no. He enjoyed that, yes, and he’s looking forward to reading the description of it in the newspapers. But the truly perfect moment is this one. Just a simple, quiet family breakfast the morning after.

Azu is at more or less the opposite side of the round kitchen table they’re using instead of the formal dining table, nursing a hangover bigger than she is; she’s got a glass of tomato juice and a cup of strong black coffee and isn’t really talking to anyone. Cel is scribbling on a piece of paper and muttering under their breath, probably trying to improve or refine the special effects they and the kobolds designed and built for the production. Zolf presides over the stove as usual, his beard done up in one of the intricate braids he only does when he’s in an especially good mood and his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Sasha stands a little way down the counter, beaming as she slices and chops meat and vegetables for him; she’s the only one Zolf allows to help him in the kitchen, and even then only on special occasions. Hamid sits to Oscar’s left, a pile of newspapers between them, his pre-breakfast snack actually half-forgotten at his elbow.

“The reviews look really good, Oscar,” he says, sounding almost as delighted as Oscar feels as he hands over the Times, folded back to the Arts page. “All the criticisms I’ve seen so far have been about the acting, not the play itself.”

“I told you to cast Barnes in the lead instead,” Zolf calls from the stove.

“Not my call, darling. I’m not the casting director.” Oscar reads the article Hamid is handing him, a broad smile blooming across his face as he reads. Hamid’s right, the reviews are glowing, and this is from a critic who’s notoriously hard to please. A particular phrase about halfway down the column catches his eye: Wilde’s masterful words and turn of phrase makes even Johnson’s leaden performance turn to the purest gold.

Turning a few pages on, Oscar opens the society page and is delighted to see that most of it has been given over to a description of the party celebrating the opening. There are even a couple of pictures accompanying the article, and Oscar very carefully folds the paper back so that one of them is more fully visible—Oscar at the center, smiling broadly and holding a drink in one hand, his other arm draped around Zolf’s shoulders, the others arrayed around him looking pleased and proud.

“Have you thought about your next project?” Cel asks, looking up from their notes.

Oscar shakes his head before Cel can launch into an elaboration of the question. “No, not yet. I think I’ll take some time to see how this one does first. It may have opened well, but that doesn’t mean it will end well.” He sighs, a bit dramatically but not entirely put-0n. “Things so rarely do.”

“Things rarely stay good the whole time they’re happening, but that doesn’t mean they won’t end well,” Azu points out. “We got here, didn’t we?”

“And you’ve earned it,” Hamid adds encouragingly. “Happy endings feel a lot better when you have to work for them.”

“Cheers to that.” Sasha tosses her knife into the air; it flips four times and then returns to her hand without her even looking at it, and she goes back to her chopping.

“Have a bit of faith, Wilde,” Zolf chides him.

Oscar smiles fondly at his dwarf as he sets aside the paper. Azu’s faith in Aphrodite is a certainty you can cut your teeth on, but Zolf’s faith in Hope is nearly contagious. Like their happy ending, Zolf has worked for his faith, he’s earned it, and it’s never betrayed him. It’s the only reason any of them are still here, really. It’s the anchor that kept Cel from spiraling with guilt, it’s the keel that steadied Azu when she doubted herself (not her god, never her god), it’s the beacon that led Sasha back to them. And it’s the only reason Oscar and Hamid are still alive, albeit with matching scars—

Wait. Where did that come from?

Shaking his head slightly, Oscar pushes away from the table and passes behind Zolf, touching him first on the shoulder, then the cheek. “I have plenty of faith, dearest. In you if nothing else.”

“Get away from my workspace,” Zolf grumbles, though without any heat.

Oscar smirks and moves down the counter towards the cutting board, ostentatiously reaching for one of the ingredients waiting to be added to whatever Zolf is preparing. Sasha jabs playfully at his chest to make him back off.

She’s too good at what she does to accidentally stab someone when she’s only pretending to, and she wouldn’t stab him, especially not with Zolf’s good tomato knife; she has too much respect for both Zolf and blades to do that. And yet, pain suddenly erupts in Oscar’s heart, as though she’s driven a blade far bigger than the serrated one she’s holding into his chest. He inhales sharply, and the world goes white.

For just a moment, it resolves itself into his flat in Paris from when he was in university, or something similar anyway, but then it swirls into a pink mist. He feels something solid holding onto him, something anchoring him firmly in reality, and warmth floods his entire being. He feels safe and protected and cherished, and it gives him strength.

His eyes open, and he finds himself lying more or less on his back. Zolf kneels next to him, one hand tenderly cradling his jaw, the other pressed to his heart, which hurts like anything.

“Wh—huh—?” Oscar tries to sit up, his mind scrambling to fit this dark and rather crowded antechamber or wherever it is they are in with the light and airy kitchen-slash-breakfast nook he remembers from just a few...moments ago? What’s going on?

Zolf’s face is pale, his blue eyes intent, and there’s a trickle of blood near his hairline that worries Oscar in a vague and distant way. But he doesn’t have time to ask about it before Zolf looks into Oscar’s eyes and says in a voice that crackles faintly with an emotion he can’t place, “Get the others out, and get safe.”

Before Oscar can question it, or protest, or even figure out what it is they’re supposed to be safe from, Zolf half-shoves, half-throws him through a door that’s barely open wide enough for him to get through. He slides a few feet until he’s able to at least drag himself on his hands and feet a little further into the room. Someone runs past him and takes hold of the door, but doesn’t close it.

Oscar blinks hard, shaking his head to clear it. There’s a sweet smell in the air and he almost sniffs at it, almost tries to see what it is, but then his eyes fall on the crumpled figure not far from where he is and it acts like a dash of cold water across his brain. Hamid. Hamid is flopped in a pitiful heap, his new wings draped across the floor, his eyes closed.

He was dreaming. Oscar realizes that in the same moment that he takes in Hamid’s unconscious (oh, gods, please let him only be unconscious, Oscar cannot have failed him a second time) form and the sounds of something that is definitely not making breakfast in the other room. He pushes himself to a standing position and looks around the room. It doesn’t take long to spot the tunnel Hamid spoke of, at the back of the lab. That must be both out and safe.

“Tell the others to follow us,” he calls over his shoulder to the person he now recognizes as Ada, hurrying over to Hamid’s side and hefting him into his arms. The wings make it awkward, but Hamid sort of nestles into Oscar’s arms. Thank the gods, he’s alive.

Oscar runs. He heads down the tunnel, the light fading behind him, but he can’t spare a hand to cast any sort of spell to help him, so he just gets as far as he can. There’s just enough light left for him to see the gate before he runs headlong into it, and he checks, then looks over his shoulder. The others will be coming any moment now, he tells himself. They just have to wait a moment.

He sets Hamid down on the ground and looks him over quickly. He looks...fine, really. A bit disheveled, but fine. Then Oscar notices the bloodied tear in his shirt. Underneath the rend is a scar so new its edges are still shiny, directly over Hamid’s warm and generous heart.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess what happened. And, touching his own chest briefly, Oscar feels the same thing.

He checks Hamid over quickly, and even though he’s a bit rattled, he realizes that the sweet smell he noticed earlier is probably what knocked Hamid out; other than that, he looks fine. Oscar sniffs the air experimentally. It’s a bit fresher down here, so he should be able to…

“Hamid,” he says urgently, shaking the halfling, then slapping his face as gently as possible. “Wake up!”

Hamid’s eyes snap open. There’s a moment of disorientation before his eyes clear. “Oscar?” he says, his voice a bit higher-pitched than normal as he sits up. “What’s—what happened?”

Oscar still has no idea, actually, except for one absolute certainty so strong he sensed it even in his dreams, maybe even before it happened. “Zolf saved us.”

The confusion on Hamid’s face melts into fierce determination. “Then let’s go return the favor.”

[marvelmymarvel]

Beauty (Part 7)

Jiraiya x Reader x Genma (Love Triangle)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Synopsis: At the age of 14, you begged the 3rd Hokage to let you raise the brand new baby, who just like you lost his parents to the nine-tailed fox. People thought you were crazy, but the strange new man who was training Naruto saw you as something else.

A/n: If you’re new to my stories, I try to be as inclusive as possible so please do not think that the gifs I use are supposed to be what you ‘look’ like. I use gifs purely to express the emotions or scene. Thank you <3

Tags: @brithedemonspawn

“Why?” 

Your trembling and shocked question caused a roar of laughter to fly from the man's lips, the vibrations from it passing through your entire body that was flush against his. “Jiraiya” you breathed out, the sound of his laughter had hit you with full force and for once, this wasn’t a dream. 

“I’m sorry... I don't have time to explain, but we should probably get out of here before the ninja after you come down for a fight” Jiraiya proclaimed as his eyes moved up towards the roof where the ninja stood. He wasn’t showing it, but watching you fall made his heart race, and even with you safely in his arms. 

He was still panicking. 

His eyes cast back down to your face and the soft frown he wore turned darker as he caught sight of your tears. A coo flew from his lips as he set you down, pulling you closer into his body as he attempted to calm you down. The toad you were standing on began to move and you had no other choice than to clutch onto Jiraiya for dear life. 

“I’m so sorry I left you, kid...” you shook your head in his neck as the shock slowly subsided from your body. He had only been gone for a couple of days, but it felt like centuries had passed without the feeling of safety he delivered. The toad came to a stop in the forest, the only sound you could hear was the distant roar of the battle and a few birds singing peacefully above you. Pulling your head from his neck, you craned it up to lock eyes with him. The grimace was still evident on his face but the grasp he had on your body told you that he was hiding the majority of how he felt right now.

He was frightened.

Your own eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not sure of what exactly he was petrified of. “Jiraiya...” you cooed out as your hand rose to cup his cheek, “What's the matter- AH” pain exploded under your skin as your howl of pain cut off your questioning. Jiraiya gripped you harder as you slumped down, screaming as you scratched at your left shoulder. Your body writhed under him and the shrill sound of your screech caused all of the birds to fly away in panic, you sounded animalistic. 

“Y/n” he stated firmly, watching you rip at your clothing as if you were being burned by the fabric. “GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF ME” your fingers finally sunk into the fabric over your shoulder, thoroughly and effortlessly ripping it away to reveal the mark of Jiraiya’s old friend. It was bright and the black seemed to seep around your skin in other markings, yet it wasn’t giving you power like intended. 

Its purpose was to give you pain. To make you scream.

“He’s trying to find you” Jiraiya muttered, hand tightening around your waist as you arched up into him, another roar of screams leaving your lungs and raw throat. “IT CAN TRACK ME?!” the dread inside of you grew tenfold as you scratched up Jiraiya’s skin in response to the brutal waves of agony that were coursing through you. “No, but your screaming is enough” he whispered as his fingers traced the delicate markings that Orochimaru’s bite left. You tried to quiet down your screams by shoving your face into his shoulder, moaning and shrieking into his muscle instead of the air. 

Jiraiya’s head turned back to the village, eyes narrowing as he zoned out your sounds and began to listen to the forest around him. A tree branch snapped to his left, but before you could react or notice it, Jiraiya was gone and so was the toad underneath you. 

Your body hit with a thud against the hard ground but you didn’t have time to scream as a hand gripped your throat tightly, finally silencing you. Your body was slammed into a tree, as the only thing holding you up was the grip around your neck. “Awww, did he leave you?? She’s alone!” the Sound ninja holding you up wasn’t the one who was carrying you on the roof, but you were sure that you’d see that guy soon enough. At the sound of their leader's words, the rest of the Sound ninja tasked with getting you emerged from the trees around you. Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to kick at the man, but one press of his knee against your body stopped all of your movement in an instant. 

You looked up to observe the 10 other sound ninjas, locking eyes with the one you ran from, to begin with. He had a bloody nose that was surely broken and it looked as if he had barely escaped a deadly beating. “Lord Orochimaru doesn’t like when his things are taken, so after we deliver you to him, we will be killing the ninja you escaped from”

Your eyes shot back down to the one holding you up, fear and sadness filling your eyes and body as the thought of someone dying because of you overwhelmed your senses. The ninja smiled at your fear, happy to get such a reaction from a so-called ‘strong’ shinobi. Leaning forward, his lips brushed against your ear as his fingers tightened around your neck, causing you to cough and sputter out into the air. 

“We are even going to kill him in front of you... How does that sound?”

Your hands clawed at his wrists, head shaking slightly as you tried to voice your feelings on the whole ordeal, but he only tightened his grip. Your neck arched as you tried to get out from his deathly grip. You had a max of 20 seconds, but the way black spots were already appearing in your vision told you another story. “I don't need you awake for the travel back, and you won't escape so easily this time around” His voice continued to get softer as the blackness took over. 

Your body went limp as you passed out, the ninja holding you up dropping you instantly to the ground. You both were completely unaware of the fact that Jiraiya didn’t leave you to die like you once previously assumed. In fact, the 10 ninjas behind the one holding you up were killed before your body hit the ground.

The ninja’s smirk fell quickly as a Kunai knife was pressed against his neck, Jiraiya's body towering over his in a way that made him feel like a child. “I’m going to keep you alive for one reason and one reason only” Jiraiya snarled, knife pressing deeper into the Sound ninja’s flesh as he spoke. Blood began to bead under the edge and the vulnerable ninja no longer felt cocky in his actions as he felt his own life teetering on the edge. “Tell Orochimaru that I got his message loud and clear, but she’s mine, and if he tries to hurt her again. I will kill him myself”

The ninja nodded feverishly, promises of delivering the message falling shakily from his lips as Jiraiya dug the edge deeper into his neck. He had the urge to kill him, kill all of the people who dared hurt you, but the message needed to be delivered. Pushing the ninja away, Jiraiya watched angrily as he ran off to go tell his precious leader about his old friend's threat.

Once the ninja disappeared from his sight, Jiraiya turned back to your limp body on the ground. If only he was a couple of seconds sooner... It wasn’t his intention for it to take that long, but the size of the group overwhelmed his abilities. Moving towards you, he moved your body into an upright position before plopping down beside you. Pulling you into his side, he looked around at the dead ninja surrounding you both. Your head lolled onto his chest, facial features soft and delicate as you soundly slept in his arms. If it wasn’t for the fact that you were forced to pass out and would soon be waking up, Jiraiya would be happy to see you sleeping peacefully. Pressing a kiss to your temple, he silently promised to let you sleep in his arms for however long you needed to feel safe again. 

“You just had to run into him of all people...”

[gt-adventures]

Like A Good Neighbor (sfw GT story!)

A tale of the Mystic Woods

Featuring the “Evil” Giant Wizard Yonah HaEsh and Myran the Dwarf Witch and many other fun characters!

A story about bad first impressions and the start of new friendships! Lots of GT, and a cute little adventure at a magical farmer’s market!

Warnings: intense fearplay and mild harm involving an intimidation tactic with biting (no loss of limbs!). Yonah is a Fee Fi Fo Fum kind of “Evil” giant but it’s all an act. He’s just very convincing. And in this story he is still new to his Evil job. Also casual mentions of man-eating monsters/giants (no scenes).

For more detailed warnings go to THIS POST

---

“Did you hear?”

“Have you been told?”

“A new resident!”

“I haven’t checked it out myself! But Ms Zukkar told me-”

“A wizard!”

“Didn’t there used to be an old sorcerer there?”

“-new guy’s a witch!”

“So, hear about that new giant!”

“A giant wouldn’t fit in that tower! And wizards is all human!”

“A criminal, on the run they say”

“Maybe a magician? They like towers sometimes!”

“His Majesty wouldn’t hire a criminal!”

“-supposed to be evil?”

There were so many rumors being flung around that the dwarf witch Myran Gamadin decided to see for themselves and set out to investigate. Undoubtedly there was a new resident. The story was that he was a Mage, and a criminal, but also just expelled from The Academy of Wizardry. And a giant? That was strange, the old tower was much too small for a giant! Even if it was magic it was only 10ft taller than your average giant in the first place. However… they did hear about the trial of a giant recently… stuff that happened in the civilized court didn’t really concern those in the Woods.

“Why would you go to see a villain? You’re not evil!”

The World’s Largest™ Maine Coon cat trotted alongside the handsome young dwarf, looking more like an oddly fluffy pony than a cat.

“It’s important to know your neighbors! Even the evil ones!”

Siv flicked his tail up into his witch’s face.

“And he’s got to be just a young man! So young and the expectations on evil mages is so high! He will appreciate a friendly face!” Myran had done the math. If this Mage hadn’t even graduated from The Academy, he was at most 23. Unless he started his education late. But they doubted this.

“Why are we walking! You have your broom!” the cat complained.

“That’s for the tower, Siv. It’s one of those designed by assholes who think it’s clever to have the only entrance be the window at the top.”

“Hrfff,” said Siv.

“Do you think he will appreciate the house-warming gift? I didn’t really spend much time on it…”

“Fresh fish would be better.”

“Maybe if he were a cat. This is for a Mage.”

“Clippings of magical plants? Maybe for another witch. This is someone who was studying Wizardry.”

“Wizards use magical plants too!”

“Yeah, they buy them from witches!”

As the pair stepped out of the trees, they froze.

“I think he’ll like the gift,” Siv admitted as he And Myran stood in awe at the largest magical garden either of them had ever seen.

It wasn’t even finished yet! Plots of earth were freshly turned, and piles of wood, half built into beds that lay in patterns across the clearing. And massively spread apart. At least 3 meters between plots. And the finished ones. Well. They already had some amazing specimens. Even if they were just sprouting. Myran noticed the Twisted WyrmFern and harpy’s breath; delicate, but common magical plants that were being used to test out the soil. It was working great.

The garden did make Myran worry a bit.

Maybe this wasn’t a wizard at all! It could be a witch. And he could be very evil indeed. Even evil witches treated their gardens with the utmost care and attention.

But they had come this far. And the tower that looked over the garden was calling to them. Well. Not really. The green-black thorny vines screamed “STAY AWAY!” But when one had a flying broomstick, one didn’t need to heed such warnings.

Flipping their broom around like a baton, they sat side saddle and Siv hopped on the end, somehow managing to balance his prodigious fluff. They took off. And flew into the window.

“WOAAAHHH!”

It was like hitting an unexpected and large wave on a boogie board, but a magical one that flowed through the body! And Myran had never been to the ocean, so it made their brain swim.

The room, which from the outside looked normal, was anything but. The rumors of this being a giant were not just rumors.

This place was HUGE!

And yet, it was much too small.

Growing up, Myran had visited some giant villages with their family. They hadn’t been THAT much smaller then, but the houses and items in the village were definitely much larger. While giant mages certainly existed, they had their own traditions and made their own supplies.

This looked exactly like the workshop for a young wizard, with additions for the wizard being a giant. It was wild to see some of the common arcane tools at such an immense scale.

Flying over, Myran saw that the resident Mage had an ancient book under a magnifying glass, and had been translating it, with notes and commentary. Spell equations and diagrams were additionally copied in a dedicated smaller notebook.

While it was surely a fascinating read, they could tell at a glance the notes were somewhere in the middle of an involved spell, and they didn’t want to be the reason the Mage lost his place. The workbench had plenty of other diverting materials.

Siv had no interest in such things and curled up against the base of the magnifying glass. The sun hit the metal through the window, making it quite warm.

Myran put their broom down and explored the desk. There were several magical tombs! Rare ones! They flipped through and saw fresh handwritten notes tucked inside. Smart, this mage did not want to tarnish the original pages. There was also an open notebook and a few spell components laid out.

They stepped carefully back onto the notebook to get a better idea of what this wizard was up to. The notebook was written in giant, which Myran wasn’t fluent in but got the gist of. So this was indeed a giant wizard. Fascinating.

That’s what they were thinking until...

FEE FI FO FUM!

Myran nearly jumped out of their boots.

No longer fascinating. Very bad. Very dangerous! They’d heard stories that quoted these lines, classic, even amusing. However, hearing them bellowed by an actual giant nearly stopped their heart. These words were so loud and so immediately panic-inducing, especially when accompanied by thundering footsteps.

I SMELL THE BLOOD OF THE-

There was a pause and maybe a stutter

DWARVEN KIND!

The trap door off center in the room burst open and a giant with a mane of black hair, a trimmed goatee, and a wizard’s hat, climbed out. He was smiling, snarling, showing off impressive fangs.

USELESS TO FLEE, USELESS TO FIGHT, FOR YOU WILL BE MY MEAL TONIGHT!

Eat them!? Oh No. Myran scrambled to their feet as the giant advanced.

Siv had gone catatonic, or nearly, and fled behind the mirror. But Myran just stood there. The next thing they knew they were in the giant's fist.

Never had Myran imagined themselves in this predicament. Witches, as far as they knew, were not prone to being eaten by giants! Giants ate thieves, slayers, adventurers! Though... giants were known to occasionally eat random people that happened to be especially rude to them as they went about their business.

Myran had not been rude! They just hadn’t had a chance to be polite! This giant had no business eating them.

Not that any of this was actually going through Myran’s mind. Oh no. Myran’s thoughts were preoccupied with panicking about their impending doom!

They tried to get themselves free of the giant’s grip but like the giant said, it was useless to fight. Then the giant LICKED THEM IN THE FACE. Ugh it was so gross!! They sputtered.

Yonah sighed and pulled the dwarf away from his face just a bit. “It is rather disappointing, dwarves don’t taste nearly as good as most other smallfolk, but I’m not complaining”

He briefly loosened his grip and Myran took their chance to get an arm free. Big mistake. The giant hissed and caught the arm between his fangs!

YEOWCH!

Their arm was free but the giant still held them. Myran was barely paying attention, for the screams of the giant rattling their brain and the giants grip had intensified making it hard to breath.

Something bit his other hand and he waved it violently. Whatever it was released and smacked into the wall that the desk was up against. And crumpled into a motionless pile. Curious and momentarily forgetting his foe he investigated.

A cat!? And still alive but unconscious. Why had a cat attacked him? Then he saw the abandoned broom next to his notebook. And his stomach twisted.

“You’re— not a thief!” Technically he was a villain to anyone, he wasn’t restricted to adventurers. He was still figuring out what kind of villain he wanted to be. But now was not really the time for self exploration.

“I’m a witch!” He heard them squeak.

“A witch? Invading the lair of a wizard? Are you stupid!” He poked at their face. They didn’t like that.

“Let me go!”

The witch was shaking and wheezing, glancing at him with wide fearful eyes. Yonah loosened his grip to allow them to breathe properly.

“If you’re a witch then what the fuck were you doing in my tower?” Yonah demanded.

The witch was still in shock but recovered enough to speak. “I’m… Myran! I wanted to introduce myself!”

“A likely story! Why would anyone want to introduce themselves to me?” Yonah wasn’t really in the mood for conversation, but figured he could use the practice at evil banter.

“You’re… new to the forest” they coughed.

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m your neighbor!” they said,

Yonah narrowed his eyes, “The forest is constantly moving, no such thing as neighbors.”

“I figured I’d try to be friendly!” they continued as if he hadn’t replied. “Everyone was talking about the new mage in the tower, but no one had any definitive stories.”

Another mistake. The giant snarled.

“You are a fool then! I don’t want any friends!” He hesitated briefly as he said it, not sure of the truth, but recovered fast. “But I don’t want you spreading rumors about my mercy either…” he picked them back up. Gripping them hard and getting their right arm between his teeth. He didn’t bite their arm off, but broke the skin with a fang and pinched their hand. They yelled.

“Stop! Stop! I won't tell! I won’t tell!”

He dropped them and they sat, crying, holding their bleeding arm and hand which was turning a plum purple. The cat instantly got up and ran to his witch. Alternating between purring and hissing.

“Good” he hissed steam in their face, scalding the skin red, as his eyes glowed a bright orange. “Now get the fuck out before I decide to actually eat youl!” He flicked the broom at them “And if you ever show your face around here again, I will”

Finally, they listened to him. They got onto the broom along with their cat and with a burst of magic kicked into the air and fled out the window. Yonah watched until they disappeared, then sat down. His hair hadn’t been smoking before but it was now. Additionally, his eyes still glowed.

His first visitor in months wasn't an adventurer and he’d traumatized them without a second thought! Stupid stupid! Stupid!

Maybe this was his destiny. For years he’d trained himself to be restrained. Keep his anger in check, Keep his half giant identity a secret and become a wizard. But that had all gone to shit when he’d been discovered not as just a half giant but as a half fire witch. Chased out of the academy but captured by the authorities of Orr.

Forced to sign a contract with King Ben to become his new pet monster! So why not be a monster!?

But he still wanted friends… his friends from the academy weren’t allowed to visit him. His tower of magic and wonder was so empty. He put his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands.

~chink~ his elbow brushed against something.

He looked down and saw a broken clay pot, the soup spilling out and a seedling now helpless and exposed on the desk.

Quickly yonah dipped his fingers into a pouch at his side and licked off the powdered fungus before saying a spell. With a puff of smoke he stood on his desk, a mere 8ft tall, and he knelt down.

With his more appropriately sized hands he gathered the soil and with a wave of his hand and another mutter the pieces of the pot shook and flew back into their original places. The pot was… functionally repaired. The proper repair spell required materials to fuse the pieces properly. So it wouldn’t hold water but it could hold soil.

As he scooped it back in a piece of paper fell from the loose soil. Curious he dug it back out of the pot and cleaned it off enough to read:

“Welcome to the Mystical Woodlands new neighbor! This seedling is from my own garden. A special cultivation of Frozen Thyme.”

The moment he read it he was instantly planning where this would go in his garden. But… this gift. Did he deserve it? He’d terrorized the one who brought it. He chased them away!

With a thump he sat on his desk, looking around him, trying to imagine what this experience had been from the witch’s perspective. Tried to imagine what it would be like to have a snarling giant loom over you and snatch you up, when all you wanted to do was say hello...

He couldn’t accept this gift but he couldn’t just let the seedling wither and die. It didn’t deserve that. And thus, his brain rationalized a way for him to keep the gift. So now what?

Yonah’s brain was too full of rage to do any proper work, so he decided to take it out on the garden, which was still in a state of construction. He’d already torn up old dead pieces of the overgrown mess left behind by the predecessor. Now he was digging spots for flower beds and what would hopefully be an orchard. There was even a designated spot for herbs.

The reason this was slow going was he refused to use magic. For the most part. Thankfully, being giant made digging and construction easier. Now that he had the thyme, he prioritized the herb beds.  It was with a sour pride that he completed one as the sun started to go down.

A large wooden box that curved in a lovely arc close to the tower. The wood was specially imported from his The Blue Sky Mountain Giants Tribe in the Implausible Mountains, the smell of it reminding him of home. The frozen thyme seedling was given enough space to grow. He even gave it some friends that he knew would be compatible.

With his mind a little more at ease, he managed to get himself to sleep.

And awoke the next morning with an ache in his heart and a new plan in his brain.

For the first time since he arrived in this prison of a forest, he ventured beyond the boundaries of his clearing. Yonah knew he was allowed, a certain distance from his tower, to walk the forest. It had just seemed pointless. Not wanting to draw too much attention, he wore his gardening outfit: a pink plaid button up and light blue overalls. He had a straw hat that he recently wove to be a wizard hat, as well as his wizard staff. He couldn’t really leave that behind.

The trees in the forest were shorter than back home, but still very large. Thankfully he didn't have to duck so much to avoid branches. In his mind was a list of ingredients he needed to find. Foraging in the forest might seem like a fruitless endeavor, but when you have the keen nose of a giant, tracking down wildberries was a simple feat.

What a bounty! A huge patch of bramble with perfectly ripe berries. He didn’t need a giant’s amount and they would just get squashed if he tried to pick them at his normal size so once again he shrank down. He retrieved a basket from his hat and started to pick berries.

About ten minutes in, the bush began to shift! A section opened up and out ran a gnome with a garden spade. It smacked into his hand mid berry pick.

“Stop! Thief!”

SMACK SMACK!

Yonah was so startled he backed away and returned to his normal size, the basket of berries spilling over.

The gnome yelped.  “Giant!” They dropped the spade. “Don’t eat me! Take berries! Don’t eat me or family!”

There was something satisfying about the gnome’s fear and Yonah grinned, “While you would make for a nice little snack,” he said, “I’m not in the mood for gnome today.”

The gnome shook and took up the spade again, pointing it at him as if that would help. From inside the bushes, Yonah heard rustling, and smelled more gnomes. This must cover their burrow.

“Put that away, or I might change my mind!” Yonah growled, showing his fangs. The gnome complied, tossing it aside.

“But you are also in luck. I am not interested in being a berry thief. I have more honor than that. If you would permit me to buy some of your berries, at a discount for me not making a meal of you and your family, I will leave you in peace”

The gnome gulped and nodded, “Am… sure we can make a deal.”

“Pick up the ones I already picked, will you?” Yonah ordered.

The gnome scrambled. “You will need more?”

Yonah nodded. The gnome whistled. And a troupe of younger gnomes carefully came out of the bramble.

“Kind giant has offered to buy some berries. Exchange for not eating us!”

The kids looked nervous and their fear didn’t spark the same kind of joy as the adults. But Yonah had a reputation to build! And he had to admit, it was still a bit fun.

He watched as the gnomes gathered berries until the basket was full and the adult gnome put it down in front of where Yonah had sat down. He picked it up and took off his hat, dropping it in and noticed the gnome’s eyes get wide. Storage space items were not uncommon, but storage hats were tools of professional mages, not common folk.

“That all?” the gnome asked.

Yonah stroked his beard thoughtfully, “Yes. I think so.” He reached into this hat. While he didn’t have a lot of money, Ben had supplied him with funds should he need them, and he had distributed the rings between his various pocket spaces. He got out a large wooden dowel upon which hung many metal rings. Small ones and large ones. With a pair of tweezers, yonah removed a few silver rings and one gold ring and put them into his palm, placing it up in front of the gnome.

Who did not take it.

“Do not insult me by refusing my payment,” Yonah insisted but the gnome did not move.

“More than we charge normally… You wanted discount: berries, a silver a pound!”

Yonah blinked. He still wasn’t good with smallfolk money. When purchasing as a giant, you purchased such large amounts it always cost at least a gold.

“Oh? Er-” he didn’t want to actually exploit these gnomes. “I'm not taking it back! Take the money Or I’ll eat you!” his voice faltered and the gnomes looked a little confused, and a little more relaxed.

“Leave us alone then, yes?” The gnome reached out a hand. Yonah nodded. The gnome finally took the money, giving each of the kids a silver ring. Any fear the kids had was gone as soon as they studied their rings and looked at Yonah with excitement. It was hard not to let the warmth in his heart at their expressions show on his own face.

“Actually!” Yonah announced as the gnomes started to back away into their burrow.

The adult stopped and looked nervous again. Yonah huffed. “I’m not going to eat you, I never was. I just have a question.”

The gnome ushered the kids away, not trusting Yonah, before turning back to the giant. “And if don’t have a good answer, you won’t eat… right?”

With a sigh Yonah shook his head, “No. I won't.”

“Then ask.”

Yonah took a breath, “I am... looking to get some ingredients. I… lashed out at someone recently and I very much regret it, and want to make some amends. I have giant ones back home but… giant sized ingredients do not taste as strong as small ones. Do you know where, or who, I might be able to look for?”

The gnome smiles, “Yes! Mystical Market. Sell our berries there. Open today, also gnome holiday.” They gave Yonah the instructions on how to find the market.

“Thank you- er…” Yonah put a hand to his chest and bowed.

“Kalle” said Kalle.

“Yonah,” said Yonah. The gnome bowed as well, “Don’t be flaunting riches, mysterious half giant. Marketeers take advantage”

Riches!? He did not have endless funds. He would have to be more careful with his spending.

“I am also looking for… Er... Shit!” he exclaimed and was glad the kids were no longer outside, “I don't know their name. Dwarf witch.”

Kalle considered, “Know them. Likes almond cookies. Sorry. Market easier find than people. That all?”

From their tone of voice, Yonah knew the gnome desperately wanted to get back to their family. It was a holiday after all. Yonah stood up and nodded, leaving without subjecting them to any more conversation.

Almond cookies? That changed things. He had only made almond cookies once! He needed a little more help. However, he did not backtrack to the tower. He knew that if he went back, he would lose motivation. Locating the market was his current task.

Unfortunately, it took some luck. According to the gnome, it was a special place that one happened to come across, just by wanting to be there. The more familiar you were with it, the better chance there was of that happening. Yonah really really wanted to be there. So he gathered his will and set off in a random direction.

After an hour of walking yonah felt a weird tingle all over his arms and legs. Like his hair was standing on end and all pointing in the same direction. Had he entered some magical field? No matter, he was fairly immune to passive magic.

Then he took another step and a jolt of magic electricity surged through his body, causing him to freeze up. Before he could collapse, he felt as if a giant hook had caught around his middle. There was no physical hook, but it still yanked him back, pulling in through the forest.

Eventually it stopped and finally Yonah fell over, breathing shallowly as his heart raced. He rolled onto his back and stared up into the trees.

“What’s the big idea!?” Someone kicked him in the side and he sat up. “You’re blocking the way!”

An elf!

Yonah frowned. “You’re so bold for someone I could crush with a finger!” To tease the elf, he poked them in the chest.

“YEOWCH!”

For the second time that day, Yonah got bitten. This time, it was the elf who sank their fangs into his finger, letting go before Yonah pulled away.

“Don’t get sassy with me! Messing with smallfolk isn’t allowed in the market, you'll be banned!”

Yonah looked around “The market?”

He had assumed it was the Mystical Market because it was in the Mystical Woodlands. But now he realized that the name was rather accurate. An entire marketplace incorporated into the forest itself. Stalls and restaurants built into the trees, with carts parked in between.  The trees here were also… there was no other word for it: majestic. Larger and older and, compared to the forest he had been exploring before, more deliberate spacing. He couldn’t even see all of it. The forest stretched on for a while, and thus was obscured by the very trees that made up the shops.

There were even buildings in the branches so that ogres, trolls, and giants did not have to bend down to make transactions. He even spotted a few trolls. Amazing! Trolls (and ogres) were much more likely than giants to eat smallfolk. Giants mostly threatened unless the person in question did something really, really stupid.

And yet, there was a troll, large with brown fur and green spots, purchasing a roll of fabric from the elevated section of a gnome shop.

“Yes you idiot, the market! And my cart won't fit through any other path! Move your giant ass or I’ll get the guard to move it for you!”

His elation at having found the market was in conflict with his pride that was being so insulted by this little creature.

“Apologize for biting me, and I’ll consider it!”

The elf looked indignant, “You threatened to squash me! MAGEN!!” they yelled.

Thunderous footsteps were heard and Yonah turned as a proper, full blooded giant, made her way through the shoppers, somehow avoiding stepping on anyone. She was maybe 17, but full grown and taller than Yonah by at least ten feet. Her skin was a light greyish pink and her eyes were a dark red. She wore a lovely headpiece of woven flowers and vines to look like hair, which full giants do not have.

She knelt “This man bothering you?”

The elf nodded. Yonah threw his hands up, “Hey! I don’t mean any trouble!”

“He threatened to squash me!”

The giant glared at, Yonah who glared back.

“How large folk deal with smalls outside of the market is their own business,” she said. “But inside the market we do not even threaten to squash, or kick, or stomp, or eat!”

“I did not intend to and I did not know I was in the market! I have never been before!” Yonah stood up so that he was not at such an extreme height disadvantage. Magen was a rather short mountain giant, only 35ft tall.

She nodded, “I can believe that.” She stood up. “I would have remembered you for sure.” She sniffed and said in implausible Giant: “You are from the blue sky tribe?”

“Yes! I am.” he answered, also in Giant. “I just moved to the forest. I was looking for the market but… I must have… hit something magic. I sort of fell into here”.

The elf took the opportunity to weave their cart around the giants’ feet, disappearing into the market.

“Ah, the seller seems to no longer push this issue. My name is Magen.” she introduced, bowing.

“Yonah HaEsh,” Yonah answered in return.

“HaEsh! I know the name. Fire man who helped save the Implausible Mountains from the Society of Wizards!”

“That’s my dad,” Yonah said, a little embarrassed.

“Mom told me the story! How exciting!”

Yonah brushed himself off and glanced around, “So... What are the rules here, then?”

Magen shrugged, “Just don’t start fights, alright? All sales are final, so don't go making a fuss if you haggled wrong or think you got cheated unless you believe your items are defective. There are ways to deal with fraudulent goods, but we cannot risk collateral damage.”

“Does that happen often?” Yonah asked, “I only mean to buy food, I can tell if that’s fresh”

“Oh, you have a giant’s nose then. Good. It does not happen often. Makes my job easier. And I usually manage to break up confrontations before they get out of hand.”

Knowing he could likely sniff out the stalls he needed, Yonah asked if Magen could show him around and help him find all the items on his list. She happily agreed. He had to walk behind her as there wasn’t room for two giants to be side by side.

As she carefully led him, she took glances back and down Yonah who was getting a little nervous. It had been a while since he encountered other giants. He was watching his feet to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone, and he was stopping constantly to look into the shops and stalls and carts.

“What is it like, being half giant?” Magen asked, who somehow managed to walk without looking at her feet very often at all. Maybe Yonah was being too careful and people here knew to stay out of the way of large folk's feet… Still, he didn't want to take chances.

“Er… I have hair, I guess?” he said.

“I was wondering if that was natural or a wig.” Magen brushed the vines spilling from her head.

“But mostly, things were just a bit inconveniently large for me. I still managed.” Then he countered. “What’s it like being a guard in the market?”

“The shopkeepers pool money to have me stand around, mostly. Smallfolk behave when an angry giant is within earshot.” She grinned with all her fangs.

“I thought you said giants couldnt mess with smallfolk here?” Yonah inquired.

“You can’t. It’s my job to interfere,” Magen retorted. “I haven't hurt anyone… badly. I’ve only worked here for a year. But I know everyone and everyone knows me!”

They stopped at a stand selling nuts and Yonah purchased the almonds he needed. The seller seemed a bit disappointed that he bought so few.

“Shopping for someone small?” Magen asked.

“Er- yeah.” Yonah said. They both had to back between trees to let a trio of trolls go by. One was only 10 feet tall and barely came up to Yonah’s waist, but another was nearly 20 feet! They carried baskets and bags on their furry backs, and even had some tied to their tusks!

Before they continued, two elves leapt from the tree nearby and onto Yonah’s shoulders! He was about to brush them off when Magen stopped him.

“Don’t! They are just hitching rides!” At that, he spotted more elves on her head. “You need honey, yes? I know the best shop!”

He followed Magen around the market, which was much larger than he had realized. The elves had no qualms about leaping on and off him and other largefolk shoppers and eventually he ignored them. Magen even helped him avoid making a bad deal for oat flour, saying she couldn’t believe the nerve of the shopkeeper trying to take advantage of a new resident.

Before Yonah left, he wanted to properly thank Magen. “If there is anything I can do to show thanks. Perhaps er-” he looked around.

“You know, the juice stand behind that tree has new flavors I’ve wanted to try. How about you buy me a drink? You should get one too. It’s very refreshing!”

“They make them giant sized?” Yonah asked.

“Oh, they are made by ogres!” Magen replied, rounding the indicated tree.

Ogres, kin of trolls and even more dangerous due to their magical powers. Typically smaller than trolls, but that was not the way to tell them apart.

An entire family of ogres were operating a massive open storefront. Jugs hung from branches or were strapped to the trunks of trees and fruit swung in baskets. Behind the counter was an elaborate prep station operated by two large ogres. Around the entire display were platforms sticking out from the nearby trees. Smallfolk sat on stools enjoying drinks and food at an elevation that made it easy to be served by the ogres. Magen walked up to the counter, which was not at an ideal height for her but was easily manageable. She spoke to an ogre with straw colored fur, blue spots, and large horns.

“Edna! I’d like two passion fruit smoothies please! One giant sized and one…” She glanced back at Yonah. “Full Troll sized!” She stepped aside and pointed at Yonah. “He’s paying”

Edna nodded and passed on the order.

Yonah stepped forward. Bowing “Yonah HaEsh”. She bowed back, “Edna Baneclaw. That will be a gold bracelet for the giant and half for the full troll”

Yonah’s heart nearly stopped. A gold bracelet and a half !? He looked at Magen who flashed her fangs mischievously then back at Enda.

Edna smiled as well. “We don’t have enlarged passion fruit, not in high demand by largefolk.”

With another glare at Magen, Yonah fished into his hat. He didn’t have gold bracelets but he had rings. 10 silver to a gold. Rings to Rings. Bracelets to Bracelets… 10 gold rings to a silver bracelet… 10 silver bracelets to a gold ring. That’s 100 gold rings to a gold bracelet (he had really overpaid the gnomes for the berries... A holiday gift he supposed), but this was not money to spend on frivolous fruit drinks!

Too late, however. The drinks were ready, and he carefully removed golden rings from silver bracelets. 50 gold rings and 10 silver bracelets exchanged for two smoothies. They came in wooden cups with bamboo straws.

This better be fucking worth it. Yonah took a sip.

His eyes widened as the cool icy tart concoction hit his taste buds and he took a long drink. Finally, he looked at Magen and then Edna. “This is incredible!” he exclaimed. Magen grinned and sipped hers as well. “Yeah. Too bad we’re the last two to have some for at least a month!”

“What do you mean?”

“That took all the passion fruit we had,” Edna informed. “Won't get more for a while”

“Worth it! Suck it smallfolk!” Magen teased the people on the platforms, a few looked a bit annoyed, but most didn't seem to care. She didn't seem to care either.

“Well it was nice meeting you, Yonah. I hope to see you again. Oh, and by the way, you can return your mug to the ogres for a silver bracelet, even if you take it home today!”

Yonah glanced at his drink. “Oh! Thanks for letting me know. But where are you going?”

Magen sipped at her smoothie loudly before answering. “This was my break, silly, I need to go back on proper duty now, and you have all your things.” Magen held out her free hand and Yonah shook it, bidding her goodbye. It was getting late in the day now and he wanted to get to work on the almond cookies.

Wait… which way was back to the tower? How could he be so stupid wandering off like this!? His mom taught him better than that. Forest ranger rule number 1: DON’T GET LOST. ...okay, so that wasn’t really a rule. It was supposed to imply that you paid attention to where you were going so you could get back. This was not so easy in the Mystic Woods.

The moment he had walked far enough away from the market, he turned forward and then back, and it was already gone. He had nowhere to go but forward.

It was to his great surprise that only a minute later, he exited the dense trees and found himself in the clearing. The tower was on the opposite side. While he was elated to have made it back safely before dark, there was a distinct absence of any gladness to be home. This was not his home, after all. It was his prison.

Yonah HaEsh climbed up the tower and back into his prison. He took off his hat and sat down at his desk in the workshop, staring into the reflection on the large, ornate mirror that rested upon it.

To do this right, he needed help. Professional help. So he activated his mirror. Or at least… tried. He stared at his own reflection, then spoke. “Mirror Mirror on the desk,” he faltered, “Could you please connect me to Shoshana at the academy?”

The mirror snorted. “You think politeness will work after all this time? I don’t make exceptions. This is why your friends think you’ve forgotten about them! Put in the effort! Ask me properly or don't at all.”

“They’ve called me!!” Yonah insisted, but the mirror said nothing in response. Just like he would do when he got calls from his friends. Yonah growled and snorted back at the mirror, fogging it up. “Mirror Mirror, oh magical vanity, I wish to call Shoshana, at the wizard academy”

There was a whistle from the mirror. “Now that’s how you do it!” it praised. The fog cleared and for a brief moment, he saw his own face again before the reflective surface turned grey. Another moment and the face of his friend Shoshana emerged.

“Yonah!!!” she exclaimed. “You called! I cannot believe it!”

Yonah’s face turned a bit red. “I’ve… been distracted.”

Shoshana waved her hand, stopping any further excuses. “You’ve been through so much! I was worried! Since we graduated, you haven't called at all!”

/I never called before either... / Yonah thought. /It was always you.../ When Grand Master Sean reinstated him as a wizardling student, his friends would call regularly to work on homework and their theses, as he wasn’t allowed to actually attend the school in person. And while he attended the graduation…

That wasn’t a happy memory at all and he didn’t want to think about how he sat behind all the students in the amphitheater in magic chains looking more like a beast one of the adventuring tract students had wrangled for their final than a student.

“I need a recipe!” he said.

Shoshana raised her brows “That’s it!? First call in over a month, and it’s to get a recipe! You don’t want to catch up at all?!” Yonah’s eyes flickered and Shoshana backed off. “Alright, I can see you’re not in the mood. But please, we’re all missing you so much. We’d assumed you embraced the evil hermit wizard life.”

“I… haven’t meant to. But it’s surprisingly easy,” he admitted, grinning awkwardly. “I’d rather not go full hermit, of course.”

“Well, then dont go a month without calling your friends!” Shoshana chided. “Or make some new friends! The forest is full of interesting people, right?”

Yonah looked away, but his eyes were probably glowing orange now.

“This… is for that.”

“Oh!” Shoshana exclaimed, “I should have figured! Of course, I will give you whatever recipe you’d like.”

Yonah got out his ingredients to show Shoshana and explained what he wanted to bake. She nodded and made some suggestions for ingredients and spices to really make these cookies great. He did not have all the supplies she suggested, which led to some back-and-forth as Shoshana pointed out some substitutions for what Yonah bought or already had in his tower.

“Got that all down?” she asked, as she watched Yonah scribble out the final lines to the recipe.

“Yes!” Yonah exhaled in relief. “Thank you so much, Shosh!”

“Next time, we will catch up properly, but I had fun designing this recipe!” Shoshana chirped. “What a challenge. I wish you had called first, before just buying random ingredients.”

“I was already in the forest, Shosh.”

“I know, I know.” Shoshana blew Yonah a kiss and the mirror flickered back to his reflection.

It was time to bake! Which he did after shrinking down.

By the time he was done baking his jam print almond cookies, it was past midnight. He needed sleep and didn't think finding the witch at night was a particularly wise idea, especially since he was getting tired. That meant he was extra likely to be grumpy and irritable. So he placed the cookies in a special cooling rack to keep them magically fresh, then went to bed.

It was right after breakfast that Yonah HaEsh left the tower and, for the second time, entered the forest.

Once again, he had no direction, not that one could in the Mystic Woods. It wasn't even possible to have a map unless it was incredibly magical. Still, he was determined and willing to wander the forest for days if he must! But he’d do so at his full size, which would allow him to cover more ground.

That’s… That’s a witch’s hut! He hoped it was the correct one. It was more of a mound than a hut, with one side covered in rocks and moss and the other a more sheer side with windows, plus a flatter side with a door.

As he approached, a garden came into view and he heard a yelp before watching a small figure dart into the hut and close the curtains. The door opened briefly and a hand hung a sign that read “NO SOLICITORS”

That was the evil giant! Why was he here!? Why did the forest let him find the hut!? Was he here to eat them?! To finish the job!? Could they take on a giant fire witch?! Myran was a damn skilled witch, and at least 15 years the giant’s senior by their estimate, but they were quaking in their boots.

A knock sounded at their door. It didn’t sound forceful enough to be a giant.  Siv was in front of them, hissing at the door. Thinking it better to be safe, they peeked out the window, then ran to open the door. Just a crack.

Red faced and holding a basket was… the giant. Only he wasn’t giant. Not exactly. He now stood at about twice Myran’s height. A little less actually. Right. Wizard. Giant wizard.

“May I come in?”

“Depends… what’s in the basket?” They narrowed their eyes. “I don’t want any nasty surprises.”

The wizard’s face got redder as he removed the cover. They opened the door and stood aside. They took the basket with their right hand… Yonah hesitated. Their arm had a massive scar from shoulder to elbow, but the hand was unbroken. The Dwarf noticed and gave him a hard look as he crouched low to get through the dwarf sized door, Siv still hissing at him in warning.

Myran put the basket on the kitchen table and motioned to the couch. “Please, sit.” Yonah did. The couch was small for him but it took his weight. “I’m going to be honest.” Myran leaned against the kitchen table and crossed their arms. “This is quite the unexpected visit.”

They leaned against the kitchen table and crossed their arms.

“Oh?” Yonah said, of course it made sense, he threatened them, bitten them, chased them out, why would he then try to find them again.

“You bit me! You broke my hand! And You said if you saw me again you would eat me!”

/Ohhhh/

Yonah’s breath caught before managing to say “I did… didn’t I.” He looked down at his feet.

They sighed.

“Yep. Though eating me at your current size would be an impressive feat. So- What the fuck are you doing here? Besides bringing me cookies to fatten me up.”

“I’m not-!” He looked back up to defend himself and saw their cheeky grin. “I didn’t come here to eat you…” they raised an eyebrow in sarcastic disbelief.

“I want to apologize. For chasing you away like that. I was so angry. I still am, though mostly at myself. I shouldn't have hurt you, you weren't an adventurer. It wasn’t right.” He was almost crying. Dammit, he’d gone nearly a month without crying!

The witch raised both eyebrows now, genuinely curious as to the workings of this monster’s thoughts.  “Youre sorry for chasing me away!? You threatened to eat me!”

“It’s my job! It’s my job to terrorize people, Especially those who enter my tower unannounced. It’s part of my job! And… and I like it!” He startled himself with that statement. He liked his job? He didn’t even want this job!! He was forcefully employed by the King under threat of more conventional imprisonment! Being evil had never been his plan and he didn’t want that. Didn’t he?

The witch didn’t look completely satisfied with this answer. But they didn’t get to inquire further as Yonah’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Er- your hand…”

Myran smiled “It was rather mangled by your jaws yesterday. Luckily, I am a very good healer, and well-known in this forest. If you had killed me, you would have had a lot of angry forest residents after your head.” Myran began preparing a pot of tea as Yonah Processed that statement.  “You’re a lucky giant aren’t you?”

“What?” Yonah voiced. “For not killing you and putting a target on my back?”

“Yes, exactly. And that was curious. It is rare that evil giants are merciful.”

Yonah looked away, “I’ve only been evil for a few months. I… you’re the third person I've faced as my er… villainous self. And I haven’t… I dont plan on... eating anyone.”

That surprised Myran. “I guess I do not know the frequency that giants normally encounter adventurers…”

“You said it yourself, Evil Giants eat people…” Yonah pointed out, “But it comes with a cost… I am worried… even if I don't... It’s only a matter of time before slayers come after me.”

“Most evil giants kill their victims. Right?” they asked more directly.

Yonah shrugged “I met another one once. Said it depended on his mood.”

“Fascinating… though if you keep up your merciful streak, perhaps you are less likely to attract slayers?”

“Perhaps…” Yonah had not considered that. He just felt he wasn’t ready to kill anyone yet, but maybe there were other perks than just his own conscience to continue to let his victims go.

“Cracked some sort of code then? Getting to be a villain without attracting too much attention?” Then they added “Not that this would stop all slayers. I expect you would kill a slayer?”

Yonah wasn’t really listening to Myran any longer. There were other things on his mind. Things he had spent the entire walk over here mulling over, and he had to voice them sooner rather than later.

As tears welled in his eyes he couldn’t look at Myran any longer. He closed his eyes and turned his face away.

“I know I said I didn’t want any friends. But I do! I need them. And I know I can’t be your friend. You came to me and I fucked it up. But I beseech you to not tell everyone else in the forest to avoid me. I already went to the mystical market and-“

“You… how did you find out that I liked almonds!”

Yonah looked up. They weren’t looking at him but reaching into the basket for another cookie. They munched on it thoughtfully, not a crumb falling into their beard.  The tea was ready and Myran poured it with magic, leaving their hands free to hold more cookies.  They walked over to Yonah, the tea cups floating with. He took the larger one out of mid air. It was very hot! And he drank. It was… It tasted like tea he’d had at home. His village had alway gotten various teas from the dwarves. New tears came to his eyes.

“You alright?” Myran asked, offering a handkerchief. “You’re a very emotional evil giant.”

Yonah took it and dried his eyes. “The tea is… really good.” That wasn’t the real reason but right now he couldn’t process all of his emotions.

“It’s my grandma’s blend,” Myran said. “I’ve tried to replicate it using my garden, but you just can’t replicate those tunnel grown fungi.”

They dipped one of the cookies into the tea. From their expression, it wasn’t really a mistake but likely didn’t improve the experience. Still they munched thoughtfully.

“I’ll be your friend.”

Yonah’s jaw nearly hit the floor and he almost dropped his tea. It was a few seconds before he managed to pick his jaw back up. Were they serious? They walked over to him, placing their much smaller hand over one of his. Then they smiled most disarmingly.

“Just don’t eat me!”

Yonah smiled.

“I think I can manage that”

[FIN]

——

(You can imagine that Yonah got to hug Myran before he left, probably a little too tight but dwarves are tough!)

[THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE REBLOG/GIVE ME FEEDBACK!!! I CRAVE IT!]

Big thanks to my editors @j0hnnymouse and @vixen525

[captains-writing-desk]

Snow

Universe: Harry Potter

Character: Severus Snape

Type: F!Reader insert (You, You're)

Words: 2,378

Note: I love snow so this is a selfish one. Very true to my own character when snow rolls around.

Severus finds you enjoying yourself in the snow.

-

Severus was on his way back from doing a few rounds of the castle, making sure all was well. On his ascent to the ground floor he spotted the headmaster and his deputy loitering in the doorway to the great hall. When they noticed his movement their heads snapped to him, then back to their own discussions. The whole affair seemed rather suspicious to him overall but he honestly couldn’t care less and rounded towards the dungeons but before he made it to the first step his interest was piqued.

“Here she comes! I told you!” Minerva exclaimed rather excitedly.

“So you did.” Dumbledore chuckled.

Severus could now hear speedy footsteps ascending the stairs and he just had to find out what the kerfuffle was about now and headed back from under the stairs, glancing at the pair of professors peering around the doorframe sneakily.

When he reached the bottom and turned to look up a flurry of black billowing fabric blew past him in such a hurry that his hair was briefly blown across his face. He closed his eyes in surprise and shook his remaining hair back into place then looked for the racing figure but only saw the black fabric disappear down the corridor which lead to more classrooms and the outer passages. Who was running at this hour? He strode to the doorway of the corridor to see and Minerva and Albus followed behind him.

He knew that hair anywhere. It was you but what were you doing down that corridor? Especially running.

“What’s happened?” He finally quizzed the other two as they stepped around him to follow you.

“I suppose you weren’t really involved with other students were you.” Albus chuckled making Severus frowned (even more) in confusion, watching you burst through the doors to outside.

“Do you not remember how she used to sneak out in winter?” Minerva glanced back at him.

“Somewhat.” He remembered watching you sneak through the common rooms past where he would read by the fire once or twice but more so he remembered you getting dragged back in a while later.

Severus had little memory of being in school with you, perhaps if he knew how he felt these days he would have made more of an effort back then, but he had someone else on his mind who had gotten to him first. Thinking back on it you had shown him no ill will, in fact you were a lot like him in being more reserved and rather sarcastic but you had at least two or three more friends then his one friend. He came back to the present situation. “Only winter?” He asked.

“Only winter.” Minerva confirmed.

“Sometimes spring.” Albus chimed in.

“Yes, yes. Alright.” Minerva waived him off as they reached the doors and pushed through into the cold icy air.

“I don’t understand.” Severus was still baffled.

“Just wait.” Minerva hushed him as she scanned the grounds through the pillars in the wall then rounded down a step to the actual grounds. Severus also looked around, feeling a little concerned now, it was freezing outside and a thick blanket of fresh snow covered the ground and it continued to do so.

“There.” Albus gestured to your figure walking down the path which lead to the forbidden forest. There was a definite spring in your step as you ran your hand along the snow covered wall, kicking snow up every now and again. You stopped next to a tree on the grounds and gazed up at the thickly lined branches. Reaching up, you used a finger to pull the branch down gently then let it ping back up, sending snow flying over you which you completely embraced.

“Has she gone mad?” Severus was a little more concerned now.

“She’s happy, Severus.” Minerva whispered softly with a huge grin on her face.

“Ever since we’ve known her, she’s adored snow,” Albus reminisced as they all watched you, “She would insist on spending as much time as possible outside and when she couldn’t, she would gaze out the window all day.”

“Or sneak out.” Minerva added.

“Yes,” He chuckled, “ We would always have whoever was on duty check outside just in case. As she grew though I found I wanted to check myself. I’d never seen her so happy before, especially as the years got worse for her, it was a treat to see. Infectious really.” He smiled fondly.

“Very infectious. I found myself joining her for a little walk around once in a while.” They both sounded like proud parents smiling back on their children when they were young.

“I’d have snow fights with her on the way back inside.” He laughed then turned to them both, “Do you know, she managed a patronus younger than anyone I’ve ever seen. Non-corpeal at first of course but she got there eventually. I suppose that’s just how happy it makes her.”

“Very fitting too,” Minerva raised her brows, “She showed me her new trick once. Scared me half to death.” She glared at the headmaster who just chuckled. Severus was intrigued but felt his worry grow as you headed closer to the forbidden forest. He couldn’t just watch you anymore and pushed past his colleagues, following your footsteps in the snow. He was able to catch up to you quickly as you took your time to admire everything. He slowed down a few feet away to his usual stride and called out to you making you jump and spin around.

“You scared me!” You laughed, “What are you doing out here?” You asked as he stopped about a foot away from you. You glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of your old professors watching you though your attention was brought back to Severus by his hands grasping your shoulders.

“What am I doing out here?! What are YOU doing out here?” His brows were furrowed with concern and you were taken aback a little, his dark eyes didn’t seem so dark anymore.

“Going for a walk.” You answered dumbly.

“I can see that. WHY are you going for a walk in this weather and in the forest of all places?” He pressed and you looked around erratically.

“Gosh! Am I in a forest?!” You then raised my eyebrow sarcastically at him and folded your arms.

“Don’t start with me.” He warned but he couldn’t help but smirk a little and you followed suit looking down briefly, sighing softly then lifting your head again.

“Come with me.” You started to turn but his arms on your shoulders held you in place.

“Where?” He demanded and you rolled your eyes.

“Not the forest.” You confirmed but he remained hesitant. You huffed and grabbed one of his hands off your shoulder, spun around and lead him the way. He had been rendered speechless by your actions for a moment until you rounded the corner of the wall which was at the top of a slope leading down to the lake and the stream running off it with a bridge over to the forbidden forest. You stopped there with Severus behind you, no longer being towed along and just staring at your hand as he had for the short journey.

“Wha-“ Severus was cut off when you pulled his hand sharply making him lurch forwards to rest beside you. His attention now pulled to the scene that lay before him.

The trees of the forest were blanketed in thick white snow, he could see this from any angle yes but at this angle he could see them reflected in the still waters of the lake which had yet to be frozen over. The stream had began to froze however which heightened the sound of the trickling water which echoed against the wall behind him.

You took a deep breath taking a few steps forwards and letting go of his hand then exhaled slowly, turning towards him then as he went to take a few steps too.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You smiled and laughed softly. He wasn’t sure how to describe the smile you gave him, perhaps the only description needed was that it stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Yes... It is.” He said almost breathlessly, his eyes not shifting from your face.

“Come.” You walked past him towards the wall, his eyes following you with every step you took. He watched you dust the snow off a section of the wall, whisper a charm and sit down. “Sit.” You commanded and patted the spot next to you with your wand. He did as he was told and sat next to you feeling the warmth of your charm on the stone and your own warmth radiating next to him.

Silence fell briefly. It wasn’t an awkward silence at all, it was incredibly peaceful and comfortable and matched the serenity of the scenery.

“I’ve never seen you this happy.” Severus broke the silence without even realising it. Perhaps because he was thinking about how he wished to see you happy, perhaps through his own doing.

“I can’t help it,” You laughed softly, “I don’t know why, it makes me giddy almost.” He shook off his thoughts when you answered.

“I remember you sneaking out but I had no idea it was for this. I might have joined you had I known this was in store.” He exhaled sharply in amusement.

“I did offer.” You shrugged casually but Severus' head snapped to you. He clearly couldn’t remember being offered. “Told me to bugger off.” You laughed but Severus looked visibly hurt oddly enough so he looked away and you put your hand on his leg, “Its alright Severus. We were young. Not that you wouldn’t tell me to bugger off now,” you snickered but he remained silent and stone faced so you leaned towards him making him look back to you, “BUT. You’re here now. That matters.” You smiled reassuringly and his expression softened.

“I won’t have a snow fight with you.” He muttered and you chuckled.

“That’s alright. A shame but not a problem. I’m sure Albus won’t mind one or two with me. Blast from the past.” You glanced back to see if they were still there but they had left you both to it and gone inside. Probably leering through a window now.

“Yes I’ve heard all about your shenanigans.” He snorted.

“My shenanigans?” You turned back to him.

“Your sneaking around I knew about but your walks, your snow fights and you terrifying Minerva.” He raised his brow, clearly curious on the last part.

“Terrifying Minerva?��� You pondered briefly before remembering and chuckling.

“Ah yes, the one thing I've done better at than you.” You raised your brow to mirror him and he scoffed. “Hardly terrifying though.” You added.

“Show me.” He challenged.

“After you.” You countered. He drew his wand and uttered the spell after a moment’s thought. A burst of blue came forth and a doe stood before him, not as defined as a patronus should be.

“Looking a bit blurry there, Severus.” You joked and he let her vanish.

“Come along then.” He folded his arms as you smirked drawing your wand to the side, out of his sight. You softly spoke the spell and waved it backwards as he looked forwards. He turned to you after a moment with a smug look about him.

“Far clearer than mine. Can’t even see it.” He remarked sarcastically making you smirk, nodding your head gesturing above his own. He frowned and lifted his eyes. He hadn’t even looked up but he could see the giant blue mass above his head. He tilted his head thinking he would see a floating animal, but all he saw was a head and ginormous antlers.

A sound of surprise escaped his lips as he jumped a little and stood up spinning around to get a clear view. You slowly stood with him and gazed up at your beloved beast. Severus still had to look up to even look at it properly with your heads coming to it’s chin just about.

“I’ve never seen a moose before. Patronus or not.” He was still very much shocked but once he broke his gaze he looked pursed his lips. “I’m impressed.” He tilted his head to look at you and you smiled in return then lifted your hand up to your beast.

“He’s my beastie.” You muttered and it lowered it’s head as if it could physically rest it’s chin on your hand. Your smile broke into a grin for a second before you whipped around in the opposite direction leading the beast to jump over your heads and leap around the stream in front of you silently, leaving the snow completely undisturbed. You plonked back down and the wall and Severus joined you to watch the beast fringe the tree line and the surface of the lake before disappearing.

“Are you not cold?” Severus spoke after a short pause.

“I don’t think so.” You weren’t quite sure in all honesty, all you felt was excitement, a bubble in your chest constantly. “Are you?”

“I don’t think so.” He mimicked though it was truthful.

“I’m glad.” You smiled sheepishly, “I’m glad you joined me too. Perfect company for a perfect night.” Your voice was barely above a whisper now and he turned his head slowly to you, a little dumbfounded. You glanced quickly at his puzzled expression then turned the other way, giving yourself a moment to cringe at your own words. That could have been a platonic statement right? You decided yes, you’d go on as if you never said that.

“I would like to walk a little more as it’s slowing down.” You nodded to the sky at the slowing snowfall.

“Of course.” He agreed then stood.

“You can go back inside if you like. I’ll be fine by myself.” You smiled awkwardly at him. Severus' head screamed rejection at him, you didn’t want him there and he should leave. His heart told him otherwise and more than that, it told him he desperately wanted to stay.

“Come along.” He held his hand out to you and you paused for a moment, searching his eyes before grinning and taking his hand.

[daddy-deathslinger]

Hi! Could you please write something for Caleb being protective? Like maybe his survivor s/o goes to visit him and one of the other killers corner them (let's face it, probably Frank or Ghostface) and start to get handsy and Caleb overhears and just. flips out. punching them real hard or something. Thank you, I love the way you write our fav cowboy!

Hi there! Thank you so much for the request, I hope you like even though it took me some time to finish ❤️ I do like writing angry characters so this was quite fun, tehehe :33

”A Stalker’s Karma” - Caleb Quinn/The Deathslinger x Genderneutral Reader

CW: Violence, attempted sexual assault

-

The cackling campfire was soothing, the sparks flying high up in the cold night air like little fireflies. You enjoyed the calm after a trial, but tonight the rest of the gang seemed very talkative and on edge, and you had a hard time relaxing. Meg was constantly talking, and Kate played her guitar, while Ace argued about some trivial shit with Bill. It was all a bit too much for you, and with a deep sigh you got up from the log you sat on and steered your way into the woods.

"Y/N, where you going?" Meg asked, and you gave her a quick wave of the hand without looking behind you.

"Just going for a walk. Need to clear my head", you mumbled, and to your relief no one else protested.

They knew you could handle yourself out there, and usually you never strayed too far from the campfire. But tonight, you needed something more than to be alone with your thoughts in the dark woods. You needed to be with Caleb.

You still found it hard to believe that you were actually dating one of the murderers here, but life here was strange, to say the least. When you had first met Caleb, he had killed you as swiftly as any other monster here, but as the two of you had gotten tossed into the same trial over and over, something had changed. You'd started watching him, studying him from the shadows when you thought he didn't notice. He had been so different from the other bloodthirsty killers. Something about him had pulled you in, you'd found yourself intrigued and a bit excited about him. And soon enough, he started noticing the way you looked at him, how you stalked him to get a good glimpse at him when he wasn't paying attention to you. Once, after he'd killed everyone else and only you remained, he had offered you the hatch to escape through. After that, the two of you had started getting more acquainted, and you even started visiting him between trials.

That led to now, where you quickly made your way through the woods to go and see him. Finding Caleb's realm wasn't always easy, but you'd gotten better at navigating the dark realms that resided here, and more often than not, your journey would end in you reaching your goal. You felt confident that you would find your way to the deserted town called Glenvale now, as well. Not even the chilly wind blowing through your thin summer clothes could dampen your spirits, as you only longed more for the warm desert sun that was waiting for you. You jumped over a fallen tree with a slight grunt, landing on the moss again with a thud. The next second, you thought you heard something rustle behind you. You instinctively looked behind you, but you guessed it had just been an echo from your little parkour. So, you continued on, a bit quicker in your steps. You'd passed the fallen tree, and the three big rocks, so you should be close to Glenvale pretty soon... Although one could never be too sure of directions here, things seemed to change every so often, things changing places and-

A feeling suddenly made you turn around again, your eyes seeking frantically in the shadows. You knew the feeling that had struck you, you knew it far too well. You were being watched.

"Who's there?" you called out, getting nothing but a faint rustle in the trees as answer.

Not moving a muscle, you remained standing there, searching in the darkness for whatever was keeping you company. There could be anything out there, friend or foe, monster or fellow survivor. But nothing showed. Finally, you decided to just try and get to Glenvale as fast as possible. This forest had creeped you out way beyond your comfort zone, by now. Just as you turned around to keep moving, you heard the rustling of clothes behind you. Your heart stopped for a second, and you held your breath, cursing yourself for letting your guard down.

"I'm surprised you didn't notice me until now", a drawn-out voice spoke. "I've been on your trail for quite some time."

You turned around, and your body instantly froze as you saw the white mask with the hollow eyes staring at you. Fuck, it was him. The one they called "Ghostface". You'd been up against him in trials before, he was a vicious, cold-blooded murderer who took great pleasure in torturing you and the others at any given chance. Standing face to face with him now, alone, you felt the same dread and hopelessness creep into your mind as always during trials.

"What's the matter?" Ghostface asked, and to your utter despise you could hear the same taunting tone to his voice that he used during trials as well. "You look like you'd seen a ghost!"

Ghostface laughed at his own joke, and you felt your face twist into a disgusted grimace.

"Leave me alone, you fucking creep!" you hissed, but your stalker only chuckled dryly at this and took a step forward.

You tried to remain as calm as possible, while taking a step back. You didn't want to give the asshole the satisfaction of seeing you scared.

"Oh, come now, don't be like that. We're all alone out here, pussycat, you know that. Don't act like you don't like it."

Ghostface slowly walked towards you, and as you looked down you could see the big knife he was brandishing. The same knife that had cut through your flesh many times before. You looked back up at the white mask, your heart beating loudly in your chest now. You swallowed hard and tried to remain calm, you couldn't let him scare you like this.

"Back off", you said, your voice betraying you by trembling slightly.

You took several steps backwards, but suddenly felt a heavy tree against your back. Ghostface laughed, that goddamn annoying laugh that at the same time sent shivers down your spine.

"Or you'll what?" he purred, stepping up to you, now standing only inches from your face.

That's when you reached into the back pocket of your jeans, and quickly pulled out the pocket knife Caleb had given you as a gift. You went in for a stab, but Ghostface quickly grabbed a hold of your wrist and twisted it, making you scream out in pain and drop the knife. Ghostface just laughed, forcing your arm up over your head, pinning you against the tree as he trailed his knife over your cheek.

"Nice try!" he chuckled. "Gotta get a bigger knife next time, though!"

Then he ran the knife down over your collarbones, and you felt your body tense up as your breath got caught in your throat.

"Don't try anything else on me, you hear?" he whispered, pressing the white mask up in your face, forcing you to stare into the dead, black eyeholes. "Or I'll cut you like a fucking pig!"

You struggled against his grip, panic hitting your body. You wanted to spit at him, curse him out, yell as loud as you could. But no words escaped your lips. Suddenly, Ghostface grabbed a hold of your throat.

"You and I are gonna have some fun now. On your knees!" he ordered, and in one quick motion he had thrown you to the cold ground.

You stared up at the pale mask towering above you, preparing for whatever fucked up shit was coming now. But the next second, a loud gunshot rang through the silent woods, and Ghostface screamed in anger as his shoulder was pierced with a spear. He fell down to his knees, swearing in pain, and you quickly took your chance and got back up on your feet and backed away from the scene. Then you saw Caleb appear from behind the dark trees, stepping up to the hunched over Ghostface. Ghostface heard him, quickly looking behind him.

"You fucking shit, get this off-"

But his order was cut short, as Caleb sliced him across the face with the end of his weapon, making him fall to the ground with a loud thud. You looked at Caleb; his face was twisted with rage, his eyes dark with hatred. You didn't think you'd ever seen him this mad before, it actually scared you a bit. You watched as he quickly bent down to pick up Ghostface by the collar, only to this time strike him across the face with his fist. Ghostface's mask came off, falling down on the moss, and he roared in anger. He tried struggling against Caleb's grip, but Caleb grabbed a hold of the spear still in his shoulder, twisting it and pulling it out with brute force. Ghostface screamed again, and Caleb grabbed him and pushed him up against a tree, striking him across the face again with his fist.

"Don't you ever... fucking... touch them again!" he spat between the blows, turning Ghostface's face into a bloody, poor mess.

You had to look away, feeling your stomach turn at the sight of the mauled man. You could hear Caleb hitting him a couple of more times, before a loud thud let you know that Ghostface had fallen down to the ground again. You looked back at the scene, seeing Caleb kick the stalker in the stomach with a last, angry roar, before getting his gun and turning to face you. As soon as he met your eyes, the anger on his face turned to worry.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, quickly walking up to check on you.

You shook your head, still staring at the bloody mess that was Ghostface. You could see him moving slightly, and Caleb grabbed your shoulder and forced you to turn around.

"We have to leave, quickly. We're not supposed to be this far from our realms. She will deal with him."

Then you walked away, Caleb holding you close to him, not letting you look back. You could see the setting sun of Glenvale shine through the trees a bit ahead. Behind you, you heard a rumbling through the trees, followed by Ghostface's terrified scream echoing through the night. Then, silence.

[mihidecet]

SBI d&d AU: Wilbur

So ... Here it is! I haven't published anything of mine here for a long time, and especially no fanfictions, so I really do hope you like this!

A special thank you to @whatimevendoinhere without whom this AU would have never existed!! They've been drawing references, expressions and a lovely campfire scene for this au, go check them out!!!

One doesn't get far being an adventurer without being a light sleeper, especially when you're travelling alone. 

For Wilbur, it is a blessing and a curse. It means he's able to survive multiple attempts on his life - he's not to blame for all of them, it's just that sometimes he writes songs about people, and sometimes he improvises, and sometimes he sings before he thinks. 

It also means, unfortunately for him, that it takes him a while to get used to travelling with other people. He loves everything about it, from the security to the companionship, but he can't for the life of him get a good night of uninterrupted sleep: whether it's Phil stoking the dying embers of their campfire, or Techno cleaning his throwing knives ... Heavens above, even Tommy mumbling to himself as he mends his own cape after getting almost-stabbed for the fourth time this week keeps him awake until exhaustion takes over. 

But this night, it's not the gentle humming of an elven song, or the rhythmic *schling* of a whetstone on a sword, that wakes him up: everything's quiet, then he feels something fly in the air next to him and land with a dull thud in the ground. 

Will's eyes are immediately open, hand flying to the small knife he keeps under his own pillow - just to be sure, just to be extra safe - and he rolls to the side. 

He thanks his darkvision, because it's still the middle of the night: right next to where his head was there's a knife, stuck in the ground and glinting in the moonlight. 

Wilbur's mouth opens to alert the others, but his call dies in his throat as he notices a lone figure sitting against the tree. 

Somebody just threw a knife at his head, and Technoblade, notorious thief, assassin and all around badass adventurer, is just ... sitting there. His eyes are open, Wilbur can see it clearly, and he stares at him for a moment before turning his head towards the rest of the group. He seems to be fiddling with something - for now, Wilbur only knows that Techno likes keeping his hands busy, and is apparently unable to keep still; give or take a couple of months of travelling together, he'll have learnt that Techno fidgets when he's nervous, and he's always nervous around new people. 

Techno turns back around, and gives a meaningful look to the knife still stuck in the ground. 

Wilbur sighs. He's awake now, thanks to the adrenaline of an expected attack, so he grabs the knife and wrenches it out, meaning to throw it back to the noisy assassin that decided to wake him up in the middle of the night for ... apparently no reason? 

But that night there's a gentle breeze blowing, so the moment the knife leaves the ground, whatever it was keeping in place starts flying away - it's only thanks to Wilbur's excellent reflexes that he manages to grab it. 

For a moment, he thinks he's dreaming. Mostly because he wishes he was, but also because he's currently holding one of Technoblade's throwing knives in one hand, and a bracelet in the other. 

He blinks. 

The bracelet is still there. 

He looks up, and manages to catch Techno quickly turning his head away from him, as if he hadn't been staring at him the whole time.

Wilbur *really* wants to sleep. 

The bracelet in his hand is hand made. Not because it's badly made, but because there are daisies woven between the yarn and cotton strings, and if he turns his head to the left he can see a path of those same light blue daisies - now slightly smaller than before. 

Now, Wilbur is not unused to having small trinkets. He has a bad habit of stealing small things to remind himself of where he's been, where he's played, things he's done. But this is definitely unusual. 

What is this supposed to mean? Is it to thank him for saving his ass earlier that morning, when Techno got too cocky and got himself shot so Wilbur had to jump from his vantage point to bring him back to life? Or is it because the bard had said he needed something to remind himself of their win against the drake that had been plaguing the surrounding forest?

Wilbur is too tired to think about it. 

"Cheers, Techno. Thanks." He says, voice slurring just a bit as he gives the thief a two fingered salute. Techno nods back silently, and Wilbur lets himself fall back onto his bed - being careful not to stab his pillow with his horns - and tries to fall asleep again. 

Wait. 

Wilbur's eyes open suddenly as his brain rather kindly decides to bring forth a memory of his first meeting with Techno. 

Back when it was just him and Phil, walking from town to town, looking for easy coin. They had been looking for a tavern in the middle of the night, because Phil had said he'd never had pumpkin pie, and the kind lady who had been hosting them - as a thank you for getting rid of the ghost hunting her scarecrows - had insisted they wait until she finished cooking and have a slice. 

It had been worth it after all, as they'd walked with an extra spring in their step with a stomach full of homemade pie and fresh milk, and travelling at night was not that big of a problem for an elf and a tiefling. 

Still, Wilbur should have known not to get too relaxed, because as they turned the corner into a ghostly empty alley, they had found themselves no longer alone. A lone figure stood, partly hidden by shadows, but there was no way to mistake their identity. 

"Hey there, friend!" Phil had exclaimed, tone amicable despite the evident tension in his posture - Wil could clearly see his knuckles turning white from his grip around his staff, and he hoped the assassin in front of them couldn't.

"Your Majesty." The infamous Technoblade had answered, with a slight head tilt that Wilbur had assumed was to be interpreted as a bow. Then, he'd turned his piercing light blue eyes towards him.

"Mr. Soot. I hear you're looking for companions. I'm looking for ... Colleagues. I have a job to do, and it requires more than one person." Wilbur's tail had swung wildly for a moment, both in excitement and indignation. On one hand, this was *the* Technoblade, infamous assassin, notorious thief, wanted in most reigns, the only being able to easily succeed at what most people would never dream of being able to do. 

On the other hand, there were surely less fear inducing ways of asking for help, right? Couldn't he have met them at the tavern, in the morning? Possibly surrounded by other people, where they could feel safe rejecting his offer, instead of fearing a knife in the back the moment they turned?

"What kind of job?" The bard had asked, steadying his voice despite how the thief's stare had seemingly locked him into place.

"A good one. Mostly a well paying one." He'd replied shrugging, seemingly uncaring of how tense the air around them was as he spinned a throwing knife in his hand. Wilbur dared shooting a look to his right, where Phil was now standing a tad more relaxed, and raised an eyebrow. This could be their big breakthrough, a chance to make a good name for themselves - they'd kept mostly to themselves for almost half a year now, doing odd jobs here and there, slowly making their way across the region ... How would it feel to sleep in a decent tavern for one night? What if they could finally afford a horse? Heavens above, did Wilbur wish he could buy a new pair of boots.

"We're in. We can talk in the morning to go over the details?" Phil had asked, sounding as tired and hopeful as Wilbur felt. The bard guessed that, as a king travelling for the first time in his life under false pretences, Phil was the one between the two of them who was less used to sleeping on the floor and eating "whatever". 

As the blade was thrown in the air, there was a sudden flash of pink light and then it was gone, vanished in the darkness. 

"Sure. I'll see you tomorrow." And then he'd disappeared too, hopefully not hearing Wilbur's scoffed "showoff" and Phil's chuckles. 

The next morning, slightly more rested, they were in the middle of greatly missing the previous day's pumpkin pie over their meagre portions of stale bread and warm mead, when the whole tavern went impossibly quiet. There was a beat of silence as every head turned towards the newcomer, then Phil leaned back with one arm stretched out and waved. 

"Techno, mate! Come join us!" The thief's ears twitched in their direction, then he immediately started walking towards them - pace steady and sure, despite how everyone was staring at him. 

In the bright light of the middle of the morning, surrounded by other adventurers and staring down in disgust at their breakfast, the infamous Technoblade looked a lot less intimidating, if one was able to look past the entire armoury he carried with him. If he hadn't been an actual, literal hellspawn, Wilbur would have been put off by the bright pink skin and pig-like features of his face, but the bard himself had horns, blue skin and a tail, so he couldn't really judge anyone based on looks. 

Technoblade looked like he was about to say something about their breakfast, but Phil evidently dissuaded him by stuffing his face with what remained of his loaf of bread - which was a chunk about as big as his fist, and even the thief looked slightly impressed. 

Wilbur took a deliberately slow sip of his mead as Phil munched away, eyeing the rest of the tavern as if to dare them to keep staring at the three of them. 

By the time he was putting down his drink, the bloody knife from the night before was back, this time being balanced on the tip of Techno's finger as he stared at it with a bored expression.

Wilbur placed his tankard on the table and the thief's eyes met his for just a moment before going back to looking bored with his balancing act - which Phil was rather enjoying, from what Will could see from the corner of his eye. Then, just as suddenly as the night before, Techno's eyes switched from light blue to a shining pink and his blade disappeared. 

"So ... What's your opinion on friendship bracelets?" 

Wilbur had reared back and immediately choked on nothing, while the utter bastard on his right burst out laughing.

"What?! What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?!" Wilbur had demanded, still breathless, after Phil had half-heartedly patted his back. 

Techno had shrugged, seemingly awkward, Phil had laughed more before steering the conversation towards the topic of their job. Wilbur had thought it weird, a quirk of a lone wolf that was so unused to companionship that they would just say whatever came to their mind, but he'd always been able to switch his focus to business rather fast. 

Meanwhile, in the present day, Wilbur was currently biting his own finger in order to keep the hysterical laughter threatening to spill. Eyes almost tearing up, shoulder shaking - had the thief been serious from the beginning? Was this a joke, a callback? It couldn't be, it was too well made to be a joke! Not that Techno was known to do anything half-assedly ... A muffled giggle escaped him, and Wilbur quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, but apparently nothing flew past the infamous Technoblade. 

"Shut up." His gruff voice had come suddenly, still from his position against the lone tree in the clearing they'd chosen to rest in. 

Another giggle escaped him as he sat upright on his cot, his tail swishing on the ground excitedly - and probably filling his cot with dirt and leaves, but at the moment he couldn't care less. There was something, some warm, fuzzy feeling invading his chest, waking him up even better than the threat of an attack as he held the bracelet to his chest.

"Aw, Techno! But I thought we were best friends!" Wilbur protested in a fake offended tone, the warm feeling spreading as he heard the thief scoff and then chuckle lightly, shaking his head. 

"We are, it's final, you're not getting out of this." Techno replies, waving his knife towards him in a way that would have been menacing if he hadn't just said the sweetest thing Wilbur's ever heard - for now, because this is just a step into their friendship; Techno has a way of being devastatingly earnest about his feelings in the best and most unexpected ways, and Wilbur doesn't know really know what he's in for yet. 

Instead, Wilbur just clutches the bracelet to his chest and chuckles, thankful he's not choking on his emotions yet - he already knows he'll be writing a song about this, can feel the energy of it under his fingertips.

"You neither, man. I'm counting on it, you big nerd." 

Techno scoffs, waves him away.

"Do I get to keep the knife, too?" Wilbur asks, because he's never been able to shut up, and there's no way he's going to sleep after all this. 

"Sure, whatever. I have more." 

"Thank you, best friend!" 

Turns out Wilbur can actually fall asleep after all that, because the last thing he remembers before falling asleep is Techno's annoyed groan and the smell of daisies.

----

I do hope you liked it! If there are any mistakes let me know, English is not my first language ajdhwokl

Also if you want to come and ramble about this to us ,,,,,, you are all deffo welcome!!

[labyrinthofmagicdrabbles]

| incuratus [2/?]

‘family’

fandom: magi

pairing: ren hakuryuu x f!reader x judar

warnings: Implications of suggestive content, language! an my writing being absolute garbage per usual, please don’t cyberbully me ;_;

.      .      .       .      .     .

On a beautiful morning such as the one he woke to, he would like to think that it would remain beautiful. Grow into a peaceful day; the sunlight peaking just above the horizon, pale golden light shining through the windows, the soft melody of bird's song, as well as the privilege of waking up next to two of the people who he loved most in the world, it was sure to be a good day.

Or so he had hoped.

A loud crash followed by a whine and the loud exclamation of "Shit!"  had startled the prince from his tired stupor as he jolts up and, mismatched blue eyes wide and alert. He rubs them, trying to wipe the sleep out of them before looking around his room.

Frowning when he realized that the spaces next to him on the bed were unoccupied—confusing, as he was usually the one who woke up first to start the day— he rose from the bed and went to prepare himself for the day.

It didn't take him long to freshen up and get dressed, but the sound of yet another crash had him rushing out the room, down the stairs to the sound of the commotion, leading him into the kitchen where he was greeted by quite the catastrophe.

Flour covered up nearly the entirety of the kitchen, coating the floor in the white powder from top to bottom, unwashed dishes filled up the sink, a strange yellow liquid (which he hoped to Gods was oil and not what he feared it was) spilled out across the counter, and so much more that he could list,  creating a huge mess that only he would be stuck cleaning.

But of course in the midst of the disastrous sight, were his two lovely partners— [Name], who was also covered in flour and who was knelt down, appearing to be sweeping something up, and Judar, who wore a messy apron with the words 'kiss the cook'—arguing loudly over something he couldn't even care to pay mind to.

Some things never change.

"How the fuck do you burn water, [Name]? Fucking water?"

"Well, I could've done the recipe correctly if you hadn't have thrown the book away, you stupid fucking magi!"

"You're so fucking—"

"Language!" Two heads snap in his direction as Hakuryuu's voice cuts in the argument sharply, giving his lovers a seething glare as he makes a small nodding gesture towards the small, dark-haired child who sat on the floor in the far corner of the kitchen, toys scattered and forgotten as he watched the scene in front of him with wide, innocent eyes.

Taking note of the boy is enough to get the two to quiet down, as they drop what they're doing and turn to face him fully, guilty looks on their faces. (Well, at least [Name] looked guilty, as opposed to Judar, who stood there with a scowl painted across his handsome face.)

"Now what on Earth is going on in here?"  The former emperor of Kou placed his hands on his hips— something he only did when he knew they had caused trouble— and started expectantly, silently demanding an explanation for the state of the kitchen.

Judar, being Judar,  met his stern gaze with a childish pout and crossed his arms, looking away like a child who had been caught sticking his hand in the cookie jar.

"Well, don't get mad at me," he grumbled and gestured towards [Name], who stood looking at Hakuryuu with a nervous grin spread across her lovely face. "It's her fault."

"Me?" The grin dropped from her lips and a look of fury washed over her face. "Don't try to pin this all on me! You're the one who can't follow simple directions and decided to throw the book out the window!"

"Only because you kept trying to force it down my damn throat! Who gives a shit about some stupid book!" The black-haired defended himself, a haughty look appearing on his face. "I'm a fucking magi, baby, I don't need no damn directions."

"Oh yeah? Wellbeing a 'fucking magi' doesn't seem to stop you from making stupid-ass decisions, now does it?" She snaps, "Too bad having all that hair doesn't make up for a lack of  brain!"

"Hey, watch it you fucki—"

"Enough!"  The tone Hakuryuu's voice takes as he raises the volume of it is enough to get the two arguing 'adults' to fall silent once more.

Stepping further into the kitchen, Hakuryuu is cautious and carefully steps over broken glass as he makes his way towards the counter, lifting the spilled bottle of oil. "One, I didn't ask whose fault it was, I simply asked what happened. And two, please refrain from using such language in front of our child."

"Really?" Judar huffs, raising a firm eyebrow. "Look who's talking! Don't act like you yourself don't use 'such language',  Hakuryuu."  He ends his sentence with a suggestive smirk.

A trickle of pink brushes across pale cheeks, the scarred male turning to face the magi with a deep scowl on his flustered face. "That is a completely different situation, Judar! It's different when it's just the three of us, but not in front of Hakuro!"

"Yeah, yeah," Judar gave a lazy wave as his eyes flickered over to the small boy, who had once again become preoccupied with his toys. "It's not that big of a deal. Besides, he's only a brat. It's not like he understands what those words mean anyways."

"He's three, Judar. Children that age are quite impressionable."

"You know, sometimes I forget that I'm  supposed to be the mother, and you the father." [Name] gives a light giggle and places a kiss on Hakuryuu's pink cheek.

"Shut up!"

.  .   .   .   .   .

True to what he had predicted, after salvaging what was left of his lovers' poor attempt at making breakfast—though, he was truly touched that they had at least tried to do it—and turning it into a delicious masterpiece as he always did, Hakuryuu had found himself stuck in the remnants of the mess they had made. As he always was.

[Name] had been the first to excuse herself from cleaning duties this time, claiming that the "stress" of doing so much 'hard work' had made her rather tired and she 'deserved' to rest since she would be dealing with a child soon—and apparently she wasn't talking about Hakuro. But before he could question her anymore on that matter, she had rushed off into their bedroom for a 'quick' nap. But of course, by quick, she meant a couple of hours.

That left Judar.

And after a long moment of silent stare-off, looking into the beautiful red eyes that belonged to his magi, his resolve unshaken, gaze piercing,  all it took was a simple, wily upturn of Judar's plump lips before he broke. Sighing, he simply dismissed the magi away, of whom had let out an evil cackle before quickly flying out the window and towards his favorite peach tree, which stood in the forest a mile or two from their home.

Truthfully, he hadn't expected any different from Judar.

"Well then," After turning off the faucet to the sink, Hakuryuu turned and walked towards his son who still sat in his chair, playing with a stuffed dragon. "Let's get you cleaned up and put down for a nap with mama, hm?"

"No!" Large, [e/c] eyes stared defiantly into the surprised blue of his father's. "Roro no want to nap! Roro want to help Baba!"

"Help me?" Hakuryuu's surprised expression morphed into that of a gentle smile, his heart growing warm at Hakuro's declaration. "You wish to help Baba clean?"

"Yeah!"

"Very well," Hakuryuu lifts his son into his arms and walks over to the counter where he places him to sit before rolling up the sleeves of his hanfu. "Let's get started, shall we?"

.  .   .    .   .   .

About an hour had gone by, and the combined effort of father and son had the kitchen near spotless, not a trace of the mess the earlier disaster had left. Admittedly, it was a tad bit more tiring for the former emperor, having to put extra effort into aiding Hakuro with cleaning;  though the boy's enthusiasm and determination, bless his sweet little heart, to aid him in his task truly touched his heart to the point where he was nearly reduced to tears when his son had looked up at him with his large eyes and innocent smile, asking him if he did a good job.

Truly, his child was a godsend. Just what had a man like him, whose hands were so stained with sin and blood, done to deserve such a sweet child like Hakuro? He must have done something right.

A sudden crash, the sound of glass shattering had interrupted his thoughts. Then—

"Fuck!"

Hakuryuu's entire world came crashing down.

Eyes widened like saucers and mouth falling open in disbelief, Hakuryuu's turn towards his son is slow as he stares in shock at the small boy, who stood glaring at the plate he had tried to dry, now shattered into pieces on the floor.

"What—" He sure hoped he had heard incorrectly, his ears were deceiving him. Clearly, the three-year-old had not just said what he thinks he just said. "Excuse me?"

Hakuro's [e/c]- colored gaze met his. "What the matter, Baba?"

"Hakuro," Kneeling down to where he was at his son's height, Hakuryuu placed his hands on his shoulder. "What did you just say?"

"What did Roro say?" Dark locks fall over his eyes as he tilted his head, a look of confusion on his face. "Oh, Roro say Fuck!"

Hakuryuu blanched.

No. Nonononoonono—his worst fear had come true. His sweet son, the light of his life, had been corrupted! His innocence tainted, mind now ruined with the impurity of such dirty words. And it was all his fault! He had failed as a father.

Fighting back tears that threatened to form in his eyes, Hakuryuu's grip on the boy's shoulder tightens. "Hakuro, listen to me, you mustn't say that!"

"Say what?"

"Th-That word!"

"What word, Baba?"

"That word you just said!"

Silence. "...Fuck?" Hakuro blinks innocently, not understanding the reason behind his father's distress.

"Yes, that—no, stop saying that!"  Hakuryuu was close to pulling his hair out.

"But why?"

"Because..." His mind was in shambles, far too clouded with grief for his brain to process any words correctly. "Because it's not a good word!"

"But Mama and Baba Ju say 'Fuck' all time!"

"Yes, well,  they shouldn't be saying it either!" Hakuryuu cried, unable to stop a few tears from falling. "Listen Hakuro, that is a very inappropriate thing for a child to say! Just please,  don't say that word again. Don't be a bad boy."

Large (e/c) eyes grow wide as they begin to moisten with tears, and the boy's lips tremble. "I-I no mean to be bad boy, Baba!" He sniffles, rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists as he began crying.

Instantly, guilt blooms in Hakuryuu's chest, and he mentally scolds himself for making his son upset. If there was one thing he knew his child inherited from him—it was his sensitivity. (Though to be fair, Hakuryuu didn't think he was nearly as sensitive as he used to be. He was a grown man now, he had changed a lot!)

Pulling the boy in his arms, Hakuryuu rocked him gently, trying to hush his cries. "Shh, Hakuro, please don't cry,"  he strokes his son's dark hair.  "You're not a bad boy at all, you're a good boy! Baba was just being silly." Though in reality, he personally felt his worries weren't all that silly, as any parent wouldn't want to hear their young child use any foul words, but he did not like seeing his son upset.

The boy's sobs quiet down, and he pulled away from his father's chest, looking at him through large, teary eyes. "Really? Roro good boy again?"

Hakuryuu smiles gently. "Of course."

When all was settled, his son finally calmed down and returned to his normal, cheerful self Hakuryuu set him down and sent him off to go play. As he finished off putting the dishes away, he couldn't help but ponder, perhaps he was overreacting? It wasn't like his son was a bad child— he was mostly well-behaved, and radiated that natural curiosity and cheerful attitude most toddlers had. Perhaps he wasn't giving him enough credit? After all, he was only three. Like Judar had said, it wasn't as if he knew what that word meant.

Did he really have anything to worry about?

He watched as Hakuro played with a stuffed dragon his aunt Kougyoku had given him, innocently babbling and giggling to himself as he made the toy fly. It was as if the earlier issue hadn't even occurred, gone and far out his mind as he played in his own, blissful little world.

Pale lips form a smile. No, he didn't have to worry about anything— as long as his son grew up in a loving, happy home and raised to be a good man, he would be fine.

Nothing to worry about.

But then, the sound of the front door slamming open suddenly echoed, as an all to familiar voice rang out.

"Hey, why the fuck is it so quiet in here?"

Except for that.

.    .     .     .     .

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Yggdrasil

"Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Toyama sat in his office behind a cup of tea across from his patient Tigre. 

Tigre had been absent for two weeks performing entry exercises for Battlefield Training level 1. He'd performed exceptionally well,  surpassing the students in his troop and complying dutifully with the strict schedule and regiment.  At this point, not only was he physically able, but now he had experience in shooting, keeping watch, and setting up camp. He looked more tan, a bit stronger, more energetic. He kept decorum, but every time he saw him, he couldn't help but feel happy at his success.

Tigre had two more weeks of academic pursuits before returning to Battlefield Training for the next round. Toyama had been seeing him for his weekly counseling and needed to catch up with his mental health after missing a session. 

Tigre took a deep breath, turning the delicate tea cup in his scarred hands. "I've been thinking a lot about where I come from. I didn't really care before. But people ask me questions like: where am I from? Who is my family?  Where did I go to school? But all I remember is the cage. I should have memories growing up. Like going to school. I didn't learn to read and write in the cage. Who taught me? I don't know my real name. My real name is not Tigre. That's what they called me."

Toyama listened carefully. "Do you think these questions are important?"

Tigre was thoughtful for a moment.  "No. That's not it. They're not important.  I just don't want to tell people I lived in a basement all my life. I don't want to say that I don't know my real name. I don't know where my parents are…"

"But this is the truth." Toyama said gently.  "How do you feel when they ask you these questions?"

Tigre thought about this and Toyama pulled a tissue from the box next to him and offered it to him.

"Sad…" Tigre said, wiping his face.

"What do you feel sad about?" Toyama asked.

"Just not knowing. I don't have anything to say… they ask who your parents are, you say I don't know and they… they look at me like they're sorry."

"That makes you feel sad?" Toyama asks. "Or are you sad before then?"

"Um…" Tigre tries to think. "Starting out, I never thought about my past. But now I'm afraid that every time I meet someone, they will ask questions like that. I'll already start getting sad before they ask that."

"So you feel bad in anticipation…"

"Yes. That's it."

Toyama nodded and made a note. "So when you meet someone,  you feel sad because you feel like you can't open up to them about your amnesia.  Then they ask about it. You tell them. They feel sorry, and then you feel sadder. Because they're sad."

"That's the gist of it."

"How do you think that is affecting your social life?" 

"Probably not good. It's not easy to meet new people.  I don't want to talk about myself."

"Understandable." Toyama was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, and, as though to signal a change of subject,  he switched legs.

"Have you tried to remember?"

"Yes." Tigre licked his lips. "I remember hearing a big crash and seeing Chu Zihang walk out.  I called him brother. Before that, I was lying down in the chains. I…"

Toyama kept quiet, making notes.

"I remember… fighting.  Killing something or someone.  Their faces were distorted. But I don't remember when that was. I remember people calling me Tigre, but they are just shadows in my mind."

"You don't remember doing anything else? Only rescue, fighting, lying down… and the shadows?"

Tigre sat still. He tried to focus. He was recalling images from his captivity. But he couldn't understand what order they went in. They called him Tigre… when? He killed that creature… but when? How long was he stuck down there? Which image came first? His memory was like two mirrors facing each other creating an endless array of identical reflection. 

"What about before your confinement? Do you remember anything?" Toyama asked.

Tigre closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to think of a memory of his childhood. He tried to remember life under a bright sun and a blue sky. The feel of the warmth of the day on his skin…. and was struck with a sudden wave of nausea so intense that the tea he just drank bubbled into his mouth like a geyser. He rushed to the trash bin, knocking over his chair, and barely made it in time.

Toyama watched him gagging helplessly and stood up. "Do you need help?"

Tigre was shaking and struggling to catch his breath. Toyama knelt next to him. "It's okay. Just relax." He handed him a tissue to help him wipe his face. "Did anything come to mind?"

"No… nothing."

Toyama pulled Tigre's hair back to keep it from going into the vomit. "It's not a failure. We will find a way to recover your memories. Every attempt is progress. I'd like to propose something… I'd like to get a scan of your brain."

Tigre gave him a fearful look. "Will it hurt?" 

"No. But I think we can both agree that just the act of remembering something forgotten shouldn't have this reaction right? This reaction is more physical than mental."

A few hours later,  Tigre is back in the clinic, in the lab on the fourth floor where they had the MRI machine. Tigre was lying on his back listening quietly to music and staying as still as he could.

Toyama stood in the room behind the imaging machine and the technician operating it sighed in irritation. "None of the images are clear."

"Is he moving around?"

"No that's not it. I'm getting interference in the magnetic resonance. Does he have any metal on him? Or any implants?" The technician asked.

"Implants…" Toyama whispered. Could something have been implanted in Tigre? Something blocking his memories? "Can you see any implants?"

"I can't see anything with these terrible images! I have to stop the test." He clicked a few times on the program to abort the test. "Oh come on… what is happening…"

"What's wrong?" 

"The computer screen just froze!" In the next second, the computer switched off and all the lights went out.

Red emergency lights from a generator came on. "Tigre… stay where you are, I think… ah the communication system isn't working either." The tech said.. "I'll go get him."

From the technician booth, there was a window. So Toyama saw the technician enter the room. He had barely gotten three steps in when the man abruptly collapsed to the floor and began convulsing.

Toyama started to hurry down but stopped. If he entered the room would he start convulsions as well? Tigre was not moving. Was he dead?!

Power suddenly returned to the room and the man stopped his seizures and lay still. Norma's voice suddenly came over the loudspeakers. "A very strong EMP was detected in this building. Agents are in route to investigate. I am assessing the damage. " 

EMP? Electromagnetic pulse? The MRI machine was smoking!

Toyama rushed down to help the technician, kneeling down close.  His eyes were rolled back white and he was breathing bloody foam.

Tigre had slid out of the MRI machine and looked stunned at the scene. "What happened?"

"You're alive! Thank God. Here, call for help."

Toyama tossed him his phone.  He expected Tigre to catch it but it fell and cracked against the tile floor. Tigre just stared at him. "Who are you?"

Toyama felt the blood rush from his face. 

Tigre looked at him in confusion.  "Where am I? What is this place."

Toyama stood up. "No…" His voice trembled. He stepped towards Tigre in a daze. "No!"

Tigre backed away until he could back away no further.  "Stay away!"

Toyama's eyes suddenly blazed yellow. While it was true that students could not use Yanling on campus, due to the nature of his work, Toyama would need special access to his Yanling at all times. A top secret method of defeating the Alchemy matrix that suppressed Yanling was granted him. So even though no one on Campus could use theirs, he could use his.

He stared into the wide and frightened eyes of Tigre and dove into memories that were already fading, burning to ashes like trees in a wildfire! Memories of them together in the hospital. Memories of his first day of school. 

Burning fury burst from Toyama and he opposed the force operating on Tigre’s mind in a single burst, roaring like an angry lion and rushing in the fight. Such a reaction may have struck many as unexpected. Toyama was a gentle soul. He was a professor, a psychologist and a priest, but he was also a member of the Secret Party and a Hybrid. The trail of blood he left was invisible, the battles were fought on the stage of the mind. He’d erased family, friends, lovers, precious moments. So long as they were contaminated by memories of dragonkind, those thoughts were his to slaughter.

For the first time, this peerless psychological warrior was being tasked, not to destroy but to protect. He planted himself in the middle of this mental obliteration and started to rebuild it. Tigre didn’t understand how much Toyama knew him. He’d walked these neural pathways more ways than he could count, like a woodsmen in a forest, he knew the trails of the memories he created. He rebuilt them.

“Who are you?” He demanded this mental fire. “What are you?”

He received no answer, only a corresponding increase of force, like a bull locking horns with him. As their strength collided, Toyama received a vision that he’d never received so far. This was alien, not native to Tigre’s mind. An outsider thought. 

A great tree, shrouded in mist, grew out of the desert. It was so tall that it pierced the cloud cover. Toyama watched in wonder as the white gleaming speck of a 777 passenger plane looked like a sparrow flying through its branches. At the base of the tree was a black dragon, but the dragon was dead. One of the tree’s roots ran through its eye socket. “Yggdrasil?”

Toyama could feel his own hands squeezing Tigre's arms tight while the other man struggled.  Brainwashing was supposed to be a painless process. You were not supposed to be able to perceive the changes. Tigre didn't realize he was forgetting everyone around him a few moments ago. He had just failed to recognizeToyama.  But now that he was both forgetting and having memories restored at once, he was trying to pull away and crying in fear, unable to control his own thoughts as two powerful entities struggled for custody of his mind.

Toyama held on to him. He regretted the trauma he was no doubt inflicting. Even though he was not religious, he worked in the Church on campus as a junior priest and knew how to pray. For the first time he actually did. He was up against something powerful, otherworldly. Even if Tigre would never trust him again, he prayed that he could at least remember him! The force that was erasing his memories was relentless, but it wasn't smart. It didn't try to figure Toyama out. It just erased memories in the same pattern once he restored them. Toyama could learn that pattern.

So long as Toyama safeguarded those memories,  the attacker couldn't advance. The memory of meeting Chu Zihang the first time, waking up the first time in the hospital,  the 3E exam -- these were the main points of interest to this mysterious entity.  Toyama stood as a bulwark against them, and instead attacked this tree. Where is it? 

Tigre's mind suddenly shut off and he slumped against him. Toyama's mind was kicked abruptly back into his body. Toyama felt unbearably hot and thirsty. Sweat dripped onto the linoleum floor. 

Toyama reached up and felt Tigre's pulse through his neck. Though he was pale and limp, Tigre was still alive.

If there was really something implanted in his head, there should be a mark, a scar. Toyama carefully started running his hands over Tigre's scalp, looking for any deformity. His fingers ran over a small series of ridged right on top of his head. 

Toyama tilted Tigre's face toward him to see and pulled his hair back with his thumb and forefinger. A scar, in the shape of an Alchemy rune? It was a perfect circle in a circle.  Like an eye!

At this moment, members from the Executive board rushed in and surrounded him. “I’m alright! The situation is under control, but I have an urgent message for the school board! This is a serious situation!”

Toyama made sure that Tigre was moved to the 5th floor. “I’m sorry. But you have to be returned to quarantine. I don’t know if you can hear me...” Toyama whispered to the unconscious Tigre.

He raced back downstairs towards the library. He climbed to the second floor and burst into the door. The library was like a beehive that had been struck. It was full of workers trying to reconnect with everything that had been knocked offline by the EMP blast. Schneider and Guderian were watching. Who know where Manstein was.

“I need a word.” 

Schneider looked at him in surprise. His shirt was wrinkled, and transparent against his chest and his hair stuck to his forehead.

“Guderian get our systems back to normal.” Schneider strode away and Toyama didn’t wait, immediately leaving the room to a side office.

“Here, it’s not much but at least wipe your face off.” Schneider offered him a tissue box. 

“I’ve finally figured Tigre out. Tigre is not a dragon. He’s a hybrid. But there is something in him that is dragonkin. That is what is erasing his memories. I suspected something physically wrong with him for a long time. So I had an MRI scan done of his head. But when the scan began, a huge EMP blast exploded on campus! When I approached him, he acted like he didn’t know me. So I used my Yanling to peer in his mind and something else was there. Another thought, thoughts that weren’t his. These things were pruning his memories.”

“I dove into the mind of that thing and I saw a memory of a tree. A great tree in the fog. So big that a plane flying by looked like a bit of office paper in the wind. And at the roots of the tree I saw a dragon but it was dead.” He flipped over a piece of paper on a desk in the office and pulled the cap of a pen and held it in his mouth while he drew. I thought, Yggdrasil, but it’s not Yggdrasil. I believe this is a dragonborn thing.”

“Is it controlling him?”

“It’s erasing his memories for a purpose. It was after all memories of dragonkind in his brain. It didn’t seem… conscious. I didn’t adapt strategies, it kept going after the memories… like a zombie, mindlessly trying to eat his brain.” He finished his drawing and leaned on the desk. “I know that dragons can sense the thoughts of humans and can either attack or evade. So this sort of behavior isn’t unheard of. A dragon can manipulate the thoughts of humans. After all.. I can. I defended his mind as best I could. But as for now I’ve returned him to the quarantine area of the clinic to make sure he’s safe.”

Schneider rumbled. “An unfortunate turn of events.”

“I feel bad for him and for Chu Zihang. I know rescuing Tigre meant a lot to him.”

Schneider froze.

Toyama chuckled. “I know that boy too Schneider. He’s a kind person. He was happy to save Tigre and followed his progress because he cared. You kept Tigre alive for his benefit right?”

Schneider sighed softly.

“But we have to … face reality.” Toyama hung his head, leaning on the desk. “If that thing is in his head and it can’t be removed… it will likely kill him at some point. Even if we’re not forced to kill him.”

Schneider walked over and placed one hand on his shoulder.

[cajunquandary]

The One with Red Sky at Morning

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel

Summary: After a difficult hunt, you and the Winchester brothers want nothing more than to rest. As fate would have it, things don’t go so smoothly.

Warnings: Natural disaster, a little flangsty.

WC: 2300

A/N: This was written for @smol-and-grumpy​ “NAT’S SUPERFRIENDS TITLE CHALLENEGE.” My title was “The One with Red Sky at Morning.” I actually wrote several versions of this but settled on this one. A very similar situation happened to me when I was very young, out hunting with my father deep in the woods of South Georgia. All we had was a four-wheeler and a lot of quick prayers. To this day I don’t know how we made it out alive. Enjoy my first writing back from a three-year hiatus! This might get rough. Suggestions welcome!

Also, sorry not sorry, I was feeling giffy~

“Faster!” You yell, a shriek threatening to escape your core.

“C’mon, Baby,” Dean prays through gritted teeth, both feet forcing the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer stops measuring past a hundred and twenty. You gulp as the RPMs reach past the point of no return.

“We’re not gonna make it, Dean,” Sam goes pale, breaths quick and shallow, voice breaking as he spoke his brother’s name.

In the rearview mirror, you can just make out beads of sweat tracing the concern lines on Dean’s forehead, a black abyss behind him. You grab onto Sam from the back seat, burying your face into his flannel. Dean’s string of curses is soon overpowered by the ghostly sounds emanating from the beasts on your tail.

The air is hot and electric, raising every hair on end. When you hear the crack, your blood runs cold.

This must be it, the end.

You stumble sleepily out of the slight motel bathroom and over to the coffee maker. Without so much as peeking, you masterfully load the grounds and water and press the magic button. Oh, how you love that button. Scratchy bedsheets stir behind you, but you pay no attention. A shadow of a smirk creeps across your face. The holy bean water is ready. You take the much-too-small Styrofoam cup with you to sit at the table by the window. Lifting the chalice of your soul to your lips, you inhale as if you’d been starved of oxygen all night. Your eyes gradually open, adjusting easily to the low light of the room. The sweet scent helps to knock the cobwebs from your mind, the warmth radiating from your palms to the depths of your bones.

What a week it’d been. But right now, you don’t want to think of the vamp nest or their victims. Right now, you revel in the tranquility. In the bed near the door, Sam is rubbing the sleep from his eyes, no doubt about to share some coffee with you at the table. On the couch, Dean’s limbs are sprawled in awkward positions, but he still snores gently.

Finally, a smile graces your lips as you watch Dean. He’s so peaceful. There’re no lines on his forehead or forlorn frown below his freckle dusted cheeks. You almost wish he could stay like that forever—at peace. You also wonder what it might be like to touch him, hold him. After the hunt and almost losing him, being more than a few inches away from the man actually hurts. You couldn’t imagine never again seeing those deep, loving eyes, or the way he sings in the car, or dances when he thinks no one is around.

Catching you just before you jump off the deep end into thoughts and memories of Dean, Sam finds his seat next to you. Trying to brush the obvious daydreaming off as nothing, you take a gulp of coffee, only to grimace in pain as it burns all the way down, leaving your upper lip and tongue tingling.

Sam chuckles. “You know it’s hot, right?”

“Yeah, thanks.” And so is something else in the room, you can’t help but to think to yourself.

You set the rude drink upon the table and stand to open the curtains. With a thrust, the stubborn things release and reveal the world outside.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. You stare for a moment just to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. You rub them. You stare a moment more, then rub them again. Red skies morning, sailors take warning.

You look over to Sam, your body rigid.

“What is it, Y/N?”

“Sam, check the weather. Now.”

As if on cue, Dean’s phone is the first to sound the alarm, shortly followed by yours and Sam’s.

“It’s a weather alert—severe storms coming,” Sam stood from the table to look outside as well.

Dean groans from the space behind you, “Well then let’s get a move on.”

You don’t even bother getting dressed, instead throwing one of Dean’s old flannels over your thin t-shirt and leggings. Just like your days in EMS, your boots and pack stand ready next to your bed.

Within a minute, everyone slides into the impala, coffee forgotten. As Dean pulls onto the highway, you and Sam map out the fastest way to get home to the bunker with the least amount of bad weather to drive through, looking for a place to stop for food if possible.

Around two hours in, the drive is going decently well, with only a few patches of hail and heavy rain. You begin to doze off to the comforting lull of the Impala and the Allman Brothers.

Your body betrayed you as it twitched violently. Still on edge after the hunt, you jump from the action, accidentally hitting Dean in the shoulder.

“You good?” He glances quickly in your direction, adjusting his hand on the wheel.

Heart beat loud in your ears, you lean back and return a quiet “yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.”

No rest for the wicked or the hunters, you suppose.

Dean hums along to the music. You are powerless watching the vibration of his neck, wondering what it might be like if your lips were to touch the spot where his pulse rippled the skin. You look down at your phone in an attempt to distract yourself.

Pulling up the weather app, you report the developing spot just up ahead. The brothers take note, then you lean against the window and watch the blur of pine forests and rolling fields. Even overcast, the landscape is breathtaking. You reminisce on your days in the back of the “bus,” what it was like when the tone would drop and in seconds you’d be flying down the road, lights and sirens, mentally preparing for the unknowns waiting for you on the scene. After ten years, there wasn’t much you hadn’t seen. This knowledge and wisdom helped but still couldn’t prepare you when a changeling become your patient.

You catch yourself, not wanting to remember the details of the attack, the ambulance rollover, or the death of your partner. You don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if the Winchester boys hadn’t shone up when they did, or if you’d stayed in that town after the bodies were found.

Wiping an unwelcome tear from the corner of your eye, you refocus on the trees, enjoying their dances under the influence of wind lines.

Until one fell, bending until it snapped, twisting off halfway. Then another, and another.

“Uh, guys?” When had it gotten so dark? You check your phone for the time again. Almost three in the afternoon.

You don’t need to look behind you to know what it is. You don’t get the chance to tell Dean to floor it—he already is. You grip the seat tightly as the car lurches forward, shaking under the speed and the wind force.

It’s as if an invisible giant is stepping down on the forest on both sides of the highway. Oncoming traffic has ceased, some people have already bailed from their cars, seeking scant shelter in the ditches. Leaves and branches now swirl through the sky, littering the road ahead. Dean takes the next exit, not slowing down a bit.

You are so close to the bunker now, but the echoes of the angry titan behind you threaten to devour the Impala before you even have a chance for safety. You hazard a glance behind you.

No more than a mile behind the racing car, the tornado swallows the whole world, preceded by the biggest cloud of debris you’ve ever seen.

“Faster!” You yell, a shriek threatening to escape your core.

“C’mon, Baby,” Dean prays through gritted teeth, both feet forcing the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer stops measuring after a hundred and twenty. You gulp as the RPMs reach past the point of no return.

“We’re not gonna make it, Dean,” Sam goes pale, breaths quick and shallow, voice breaking as he spoke his brother’s name.

In the rearview mirror, you can just make out beads of sweat tracing the concern lines on Dean’s forehead and the rotating black abyss behind him. You grab onto Sam from the back seat, burying your face into his flannel. Dean’s string of curses is soon overpowered by the ghostly sounds emanating from the beasts on your tail.

The air is hot and electric, raising every hair on end. When you hear the crack, your blood runs cold.

You are covered in glass from the back window, the wind sucking the breath from your lungs. Sam reaches over and pulls you into his lap, holding as tightly as your eyes are shut. Dean masterfully swerves in an out, dodging unknown obstacles and navigating winding roads.

You recognize these turns. The bunker!

Castiel is already perched at the edge of the garage when you open your eyes. Still at full speed, Dean swerves the car inside, causing it to slide sideways and leave thick rubber tracks. Castiel struggles against the wind and grabs Dean as he bails from Baby.

“I can’t close it! We have to take cover, now,” Cas yells over the train whistle screams of the tempest.

Not missing a beat, Sam grabs you and doesn’t even pause to set you down. The alarms in the bunker sound off, competing with the storm.

You all finally tumble through the door and slam it locked behind you. You grunt as your ears pop from the pressure change and rub your jaw.

Heavily breathing from the ordeal, the four of you trade nodding glances, indicating that everyone is okay.

You are the first to break the silence, shaking bits of glass from your shirts. “I need a drink.”

Castiel and Sam follow you down the steps, but stop to sit in the war room. Dean trails on your heels, also eager for a drink. You grab the bottle but keep walking, ready to be in your own bed already.

Dean protests. “Hey, you gonna share?”

“Sure, but you’ll have to follow me.”

Once in your room, you take a long draught from the already open bottle of whiskey, then turn and hand it to Dean.

“Close your eyes, Winchester.”

Dean does as told, bottle already suspended at his lips.

You pause for a moment to admire those lips and the way they purse when he swallows. It catches your breath but you turn away, stripping the glass-ridden clothes into a pile on the floor. You curse under your breath as you realize the clothes that other than the ones still in the car, the rest were in the laundry room, several wings down.

You grab a pillow to shield yourself just in time as Dean opens his eyes to see what the matter is. He apologizes quickly and turns away. “What’s wrong?”

“No clothes.”

Without hesitation, he shrugs the shirt from his shoulders and extends it in your direction.

“Thanks.” You are so glad that his eyes are still averted so he can’t see your red face, the blush stretching through your whole body. You quickly slip inside the shirt and bottom it, thankful that it reaches nearly to your knees. You pause at the collar, lifting it to your nose and nearly fall as the heady scent of him fills your senses. Dean, standing now, catches you just in time, closer to you than ever before. His hands rest gently at your sides, and he chuckles sweetly as he leans in to kiss your hair. The whiskey still warming your bones, you wrap your arms around him, interlocking your fingers and burying your face into his bare chest. He pulls you in tighter, squeezing.

The stress of almost losing him on the hunt to that fang and of nearly becoming flying sky trash slowly falls away within the shelter of his embrace. He leans onto the bed and back farther, taking you with him until you’re both under the blankets completely intertwined.

The dim light provided by a small lamp in the corner casts just enough shadow that you can count the freckles dusted on Dean’s cheeks and get lost in the hazel green folds of his eyes. Could this really be happening? Is the hunter you’d be pining for silently for over a year really holding you this closely—in your own bed?

Your breath mixes with his when he leans in even closer and brushes your lips with his. You close your eyes and relish in the warmth and comfort and safety of his arms, the softness and taste of his lips, stubble grazing your chin.

You can still perceive faint sounds of the raging storm outside, but you have no more fear. You pull away slightly to enjoy the sweet smile on Dean’s face until a passing shadow crosses it.

An elated “finally” can be heard near the doorway. Sam winks and closes the door, retreating footsteps resonating down the hall.

A new storm blooms in your core as you surrender yourself to the ease of being so close to Dean. Together, you trade secrets and promises in the intimate moments before slowly falling asleep to the comfort of his voice.

Red skies morning, sailors take warning. Red skies night, sailors delight.

With the red flashes of the bunker floodlights filling the air, you did certainly delight, safe at last. Any wreckage could wait until morning.

TAG LIST:

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @akshi8278 @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby​

*To be added or removed, shoot me a message

[nelllraiser]

of the same blood | luce & nell (ft. ???)

SUGGESTED LISTENING: if i go, im goin’ & deep end. TIMING: the night of beltane, following these. ( 1 ) ( 2 ) LOCATION: the vural home. PARTIES: @divineluce and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: the sisters remember that they don’t always have to do things alone. CONTAINS: sibling death mentions, sibling death grief.

Hair still damp from the shower, Luce made her way to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. The house was quiet, though it was almost always quiet now. Ever since Bea had gone to New York with Felix, the house felt empty without her presence. Just like it had felt nearly a year ago. Fuck. A year ago. A year ago, she’d been… she’d been at the Beltane ritual with Nell. They’d watched August fall, she’d held her flames to his face, threatened him. She should have killed him, she’d done the right thing. She’d hesitated, she’d shown mercy. No. No, no, no. What was done was done. She couldn’t go over the what if’s, not any more. Shutting the refrigerator, Luce grabbed a glass from the cupboard and the whiskey from the bar. She wanted something stronger than beer. Popping the cap off, Luce poured herself a generous glass of whiskey and took a long sip. She leaned against the kitchen island, hands cradling the glass. What’s done was done. The past was behind her. Life went on. Life went on. But the echoes of the past still remained.

Nell had stayed in her tree until the flames of the coven’s fires had turned to ash, and every spellcaster had left the clearing empty. A desperate part of her had wanted to go up to where the bonfires had been burning— to touch the ash and see if it was still warm. But at least she’d had enough self-respect to prevent herself from doing so, taking the long route home instead. She hadn’t yet realized that the cinders of the fires had flown up into her roost in the branches, leaving a few smudges on her face as she walked through the door and into Luce’s party of one. The sight of whiskey was a welcome one, and the younger sister wasted no time in grabbing herself a glass before leaning next to Luce. “Are you going to share?” She didn’t want to think of the past anymore tonight, but as she looked at the liquor in Luce’s hand she couldn’t help but remember the memorial drinks they’d raised to Bea nearly a year ago. Could this be the same bottle of liquor? No, she was pretty sure Luce had downed the rest of that spirit when she’d gone out to set the trees ablaze.

The smell of smoke was what caught Luce’s attention, moreso than the sound of the door opening or even the sight of her younger sister walking in. It was the familiar scent of fire, fueled by magical intent. It was the scent of home. Of family. Had Nell been to the coven? She couldn’t have been there, there was no way. The excommunication had fallen like an iron curtain between them and the rest of the coven, final and unyielding. “Nope.” Luce said as she poured Nell a glass of whiskey. “Ice?” She asked, sipping again from her own glass. The whiskey burned, hot and familiar, but not in the way that she wished to burn. She wanted her fire back. She wanted her life back. But that was never going to happen. “So, what have you been up to?” She asked, wiping at her own forehead purposefully. 

Nell’s eyes rolled in response to Luce’s brief answer, though she wasn’t surprised in the least. It wasn’t as if she’d expected her sister to have suddenly become the waitress of her dreams, despite Nell’s best efforts to make her one ever since she could string a sentence together. Still, there was whiskey in her glass, so Nell was happy. Or...as happy as she could be after witnessing a scene she wanted both to be a part of, yet have nothing to do with. “Yes, ice.” Hopefully the chill of it would wake her up a little in addition to the sting of the whiskey, bringing some life back into the numbness that had set into her bones on the walk home. A brief look of confusion settled on Nell’s face as she mindlessly mirrored Luce’s motion, taking the hint as she rubbed her own hand across her forehead. When it came away with a smudge of black she knew she’d been caught. A sigh later and she was taking a long drink of her glass before answering. “Oh you know- just sitting in trees in the forest.” She knew the answer wasn’t the one her sister was looking for, nor one Luce would accept. “I just went out to see Beltane or whatever. Mom sends her love,” she finished sarcastically, an age old shield from the true weight of the words.

Turning to the freezer, Luce grabbed a few cubes from the ice box and dropped them into the bottom of Nell’s cup, careful to set them in before they could melt against her skin. She stared at the amber liquid in her glass, thinking about drinking from the same glasses last year. That night, that terrible fucking night when she’d learned that Bea was dead. The night that she had learned that someone had killed her sister without a second thought. And she’d tried to drown the ache in her heart with whiskey, to burn it from her soul with fire. It hadn’t worked. None of it had worked. Even now, even with Bea returned to the world, she still couldn’t shake the hollow sense of loss. Particularly not on days like this, when she remembered just how different life had been one short year ago.

Luce raised an eyebrow skeptically at Nell’s words, but the expression shifted to shock when she admitted to what she’d been doing. “You went to the ritual?” She repeated. “Nell…” Why had she done that? If she’d been caught, the consequences would have been severe-- they were exiled from the coven, banished for practicing necromancy. What would she have had to gain by going and risking her neck like that? “Why’d you go?” She asked. 

Bea was in the living world once again, but her ghost was one that still constantly haunted the sisters, forcing Nell to live her future as if she were doing it from the past. Almost a year ago she’d barely been able to come into the kitchen let alone stand in it to have a whiskey along with Luce. It had been Bea’s place, it was still her place even as the eldest sister was off in New York along with Felix, hopefully living her new life to the fullest. But it was nights like these that made it hard to remind herself that Bea was still alive when she wasn’t here in the flesh to remind Nell. The witch looked to the scars on her arms, the ones she’d earned from Bea’s resurrection to make it more real. The scars were here, so Bea was here...even if she wasn’t here with them. 

Why had she gone to the ritual? Nell hadn’t particularly planned on it until she’d found herself walking the familiar path, and climbing her hidden tree. “Habit?” she joked stupidly, as if she could blame her actions on the fact that they were the same ones she’d been doing on this day for as long as she could remember. “I didn’t go, go. I just sat in a tree where no one could see me and watched.” She’d felt like something of a vulture, perched in the leaves as she feasted on whatever scraps of gathered magical intent managed to fly her way. But again— she knew Luce would want a better answer than that. No more secrets. That’s what they’d promised one another after the youngest witch’s secrets had killed the eldest. “I don’t know…” she grumbled a bit more sincerely. “I just wanted to see it.” Did Luce miss their coven in the same agonizing way of knowing it was wrong to want something that didn’t want them?

Luce snorted at Nell’s initial answer, knowing it was a knee jerk reaction. Because that’s how Nell played the game-- she joked. She made fun of herself, brushed things off with a silly joke or some off-beat observation. It was what she’d always done to keep the focus off her problems. And Luce knew that. She’d always known it. But, she’d never really cared to call her sister out on it because, fuck, she had her own ways of brushing people away. They were a result of their mother’s singular bid for perfection with Bea and it showed. Tracing a triangle against the cool marble countertop, Luce mulled over Nell’s words. She’d stayed hidden, even though that must have hurt even more. To be so close you could hear the words, feel the magic in the air, smell the smoke and ash in the wind?

A lump formed in the back of her throat and she nodded once. “I wish I’d gone with you.” Instead, she’d run to the woods. Just like she always did. She’d run to the woods before, separating herself from her family for years and now she wished she could take that time back. Five years. Five years, she’d lived in this town but never realized just how much she had. She’d been selfishly devoted in her pursuit of what? One upping her sister who’d never wanted to make their shared existence a competition? “We’ve only got each other. And Bea-- always Bea. But… for now, it’s just us.”

Luce’s answer was one that surprised Nell, still not all that used to the concept of doing things as one with her sisters rather than apart— even nearly a year after being reminded that they were a unit of three, broken when the circle was disrupted. “We could go back, if you want. I bet the ashes are still warm. You know...together.” But even that felt like the wrong answer. They were supposed to be moving forwards, not going back. Alone, Nell could barely remember to pluck herself from the past, but alongside her sister it was easier to see that a return to what they’d had before wasn’t a path that led onward in the least. “Or...or we could…” Nell trailed off uselessly, still not knowing how to step into the shoes of someone who knew how to move on, even if she’d just barely started to realize that by obsessing over things that were done, she might be left behind along with them. But the lessons those things had taught...those were what she couldn’t let go of— the things she needed to remember to ensure that nothing like what had come to pass ever happened again. She just hadn’t figured out to sift through them, didn’t know how to pick up the pieces she could carry without strapping the rest of it onto her back, inevitably crushed under the weight of it when it proved to be far too much to handle. 

Still, Nell nodded at the mention of Bea, knowing Luce’s words were true. They were another reminder of the most important thing they’d stumbled upon in losing one of their own. They’d found each other along with the knowledge that so long as there were two of them standing alongside the other...they would manage. “I know. And I’m- I’m glad you’re here. And I want to do something with you tonight- I really do.” She still had plenty of time to be with Luce before she went to see Adam for the rest of the evening. “I just...I miss her, too. I miss Bea.” It was hard to remind herself that she and Luce were two, when she could barely remember that all together they were three.

Nell was trying. She was trying so hard. And Luce knew that, they both knew it. They both knew how hard it was, being cast out from everything they’d ever known. Growing up, the coven had been a second family to her, the other members helping to raise the three of them alongside their parents. But they had been banished from the coven. Locked out of one of the only places that could ever understand who they were. It was only now that Luce realized just how much she’d taken the coven for granted and how much she truly valued the community they’d grown up in. As much as she would have loved to go back, to try and reclaim what was lost? “We can’t. We can’t do that and you know it too. We’re not… We can’t get the old days back and trying will only make it worse.” She shook her head. The words made her heart ache, because there was nothing more that she wanted to do than to go to the ritual spot, to see the familiar grounds, to see the ashen remains of the Beltane celebration. But there was no going back to the way things had been. Life moved on. And she was trying her best to be at peace with that. She just hoped that Nell could too.

Taking another long sip from her glass, Luce offered a weak smile. “You better be glad I’m here.” She joked, though a part of her wondered if she could actually do it. Could she ever leave this place? Could she ever leave Nell? She’d done it before and hated herself for leaving. She’d abandoned the people she’d cared about for a month, left them at the mercy of this town-- this fucking town. She couldn’t do it again. She wouldn’t. She’d stay by Nell’s side for as long as her sister needed her, wanted her. And when Bea returned, she’d stay by Bea too. “I want to do something too. I… I went into the woods earlier today. By myself.” She said with a shake of her head. “I’m still trying to break the habit of doing shit alone. But yeah. I’d like to do something with you too.” At the mention of their sister, Luce let out a sigh before looking around the kitchen. She could see echoes of her sister still lingering in this space. Bea, cooking at the stove, music playing from a speaker as she watched a pot on the stove. Drinks shared late at night in the corner nook, the three of them tipsy and giggling. Remnants, that was all they were left with now. “Yeah. I miss her too.”

The house they lived in was haunted, but not in the traditional White Crest sense of ghosts and ghouls. They’d lived some of their worst moments in these walls— couldn’t look at certain corners of it without being thrown back into the memories of a year ago. The feeling was only exacerbated by the missing sister of their trio, Nell constantly needing to remind herself that Bea would cook in this kitchen again, that the home would fill with the eldest daughter’s spirit sooner, or possibly even later rather than never. “If you weren’t here I sure as hell wouldn’t be,” Nell answered with a chuckle, perhaps a little too honest in her attempt to be brief. But it was true. The house was only bearable because Luce was in it. Living together was good for both of them despite the fact that it ended out days in shouting matches as often as it did with laughter. Sisters would be sisters, and Luce gave Nell a grounding that she desperately needed simply by being here. She couldn’t know for certain whether the same could be said for Luce, but she suspected as much. They needed one another whether they wanted to or not. And Nell wanted to. “Then let’s do something. It’s not like we can’t go out and make our own bonfire, right? I’m sure Taki would be more than happy to provide some flames.” She didn’t want to poke at her sister’s struggle with her magic, but figured addressing it off the bat was a decent method of getting it out of the way. “How was...the woods for you? You know I’m shit at doing stuff together too, sometimes. But I think the fact that we’re trying is something, right? And I mean...I appreciate it- knowing that you’re trying and stuff.” As for Bea… “What do you think she’s doing today? Maybe we could FaceTime her or something if we decide to burn something.”

As for going back to days past, Nell knew it wasn’t something she should be doing. “It’s not even necessarily that I want the days back I just-” She didn’t know how to find a balance between bitterness and longing, the two so thoroughly wrapped up in one another she could barely tell them apart when it came to the coven and the rest of her family. It felt as if she’d hit the ground running last year and just...never stopped running. And now it was too late to adjust— she didn’t know how to slow down and force herself to find a new normal that didn’t make her sneer in judgement at both those she’d lost as well as herself for missing them. “I can’t even figure out what I want.” How could she give herself the peace she sought, when she didn’t even know what peace she was looking for?

Luce let out another wry chuckle and nodded in agreement. If Nell wasn’t here, Luce wouldn’t be here either. She’d be back at her cabin, most likely. Living there, staying in the woods. Isolating herself from the world again, but without the coven this time. She would be truly alone, without either of her sisters at her side. Even if Nell still lived in the town, even if Bea was still alive and breathing and walking on this plane, she would be alone. And Luce wasn’t sure if that was the right thing for her now. Losing her sister, losing her family, losing her coven-- did she really want to lose more?  “Yeah, neither would I. This place… it’s hers, you know? At the end of the day, it’s Bea’s.” She said, gesturing to the kitchen around them with her whiskey glass. It was Bea’s through and through. Every wall and fixture, it was a part of their sister. And living here without her in it, was… hard. Because they had to live with the memory of those terrible, silent weeks without her. “I like the sound of a bonfire though. It’d be nice to do something like that here. And hey, it gives Taki the opportunity to cut loose.”

At her sister’s question, Luce mulled over her experience. “It was… peaceful. Good, in its own way. Reminded me of the purpose of Beltane, you know? Spring turning to summer, the seasons passing. Life moving on. It was grounding. Sometimes I just get so stuck on how things used to be,” How I used to be, “That it gets hard to remember that life is always going to change.” She said. At Nell’s mentions about doing things together, Luce shrugged. “None of us are great at doing things together. But yeah. I’m glad we’re trying too. And I know that you’re doing your best, Nellie.” 

Listening to Nell speak, Luce rolled her glass between her hands contemplatively. “And that’s okay too. It’s okay to not know what you want.” She nodded. “I’m not going to pretend like I know what’s going to happen or that things will work out for the best. Because they might not.” Luce’s fingers flexed, the absence of her flames even more present than normal, “But I’ve got faith in you finding your way. Might not be tomorrow or even a year from now, but you’ll find it.” Tossing back the last of her whiskey, Luce glanced at her phone, “Yeah, FaceTiming Bea might be a good idea. I’m betting she’s gone full nocturnal living with Felix.”

Nell nodded as Luce outlined the ways in which this place belonged to Bea. “Yeah...it really is her’s.” Even before she’d died, the sisters had only owned spaces of it, holed the bits of them up into their rooms to make their own little homes within a house. And Nell hadn’t minded. Not when Bea was here to liven the spaces up with her own energy, and there’d been only good memories that filled the walls. But living here without Bea felt as if she were stuck in that month long hell of getting their sister back— a tape that simply looped over on itself countless times as Nell was forced to stare at the screen. How was she meant to move forwards when she lived in a place that forced her to relive the worst days she’d had? She couldn’t move on with her life when she was still stuck in the one she’d been living a year ago. 

“Oh absolutely. It’s been a minute since Taki got to really go to town. And I bet Iggy’d have fun too what with all his...frustrations as of late.” Nell snickered at the tail end of her words, not to subtly alluding to the familiar’s horny mating season state. “But I mean...like witch, like familiar, I guess.” A somber air returned to her as she listened to Luce, happy that her sister had begun to find her peace. There was a flare of envy trying to work its way into her throat, but Nell tamped it down before it could truly surface, unwilling to risk this moment and future that Luce so thoroughly deserved. “I’m glad you got to do it for yourself- even if it was hard in a way. But I guess you’re right about the change and stuff.” A half-smile showed up on Nell’s lips as Luce granted the affirming words. “And I know you’re doing your best, Lulu.” They were trying, and that’s what mattered most. 

Perhaps it was okay that Nell wasn’t sure of what she wanted, but she wished she could pin it down nonetheless. It was exhausting having the things she wished for constantly trying to battle one another for dominance, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to stomach if before making a choice born out of simply wanting it all to end. Still— at least she had Luce’s faith in her, which was more than she’d ever gotten from their mother. “Thanks, Luce...really. You’re usually pretty dumb, but sometimes you’re kinda smart, I guess.” The heavy tone of the evening was settling into something else as they spoke of Bea and bonfires, and a full chuckle found Nell’s head titling along with it as she spoke. “You know how she only wears white, now? I bet she’s so fucking pale she’ll blend right in with her shirt on the screen. Here— I can just call her now, and we can laugh at how much of a vampire she looks like.” Tugging her phone out of her pocket, Nell clicked on Bea’s name, waiting for her sister’s face to show up on the screen.

If there was anything Bea was certain of, it was that her sisters were finding a way to make this holiday far more morose than it needed to be. It was their first Beltane being outside of a coven, but Bea had not celebrated with the Coven before. She knew they didn’t need a coven to make the holiday and she would teach her sisters. Her fingers had been twisting through Felix’s hair in the dark comfort of their bedroom when she thought of her sisters alone, stumbling through this new terrain. She had left White Crest to find herself in a new light, to learn to keep her chin up with the new crown of shadows she had obtained, and she had. There was no part of Bea that felt broken or wrong any longer. She had been put back together and for too long she felt the tug of the stitches holding her, but now that tug was no longer felt. Her skin was her own, stitches and all. Beatrice Vural had evolved and grown, she had become something no one had expected. She was as much a monster as anyone else in White Crest and that was the only reason she could drive her car across the boundaries of town. Wicked’s Rest had missed her and she had missed it, but before she made her reappearance in town, she had sisters to celebrate with. Her phone began to vibrate in her purse as her keys slipped into the familiar lock of her home. She swung open the door, lowered her sunglasses as her cherry red lips split into a grin. “If this is how we’re celebrating this year, I should have stayed in New York.”

[mudwingpropaganda]

Queen Glory of the RainWings

Ye of terrible governmental implications! The replacement Dragonet of Destiny, her Majesty of the Rain Forest, and who knows what else. There’s a lot to be said about Glory, a victim of abuse, a part in the cycle of violence, and the child who knew better than an entire queendom of dragons. Glory is an unfortunate character, both personally and in the story as a whole. 

I have a lot of opinions about Glory. Bless yourself upon them if you deserve so.

Design Headcanon

Despite appearing colorful and bright, especially among her fellow dull scaled siblings, her scales are much plainer than a traditional RainWing’s. Most of which tend to have terribly neon scales correlating with their emotions. Glory tends to have disgusted green and irritable red scales reflecting her mood. The yellow is simply an accent, but mistaken by her subjects as muted amusement. Her scales easily flinch along to her emotions, but she finds that showing these colors gains the respect of her subjects, rather than lose it like she did with the guardians, who never truly did pick up on what these colors meant.

Glory has inspiration from a few different animals. Chameleons are out of the way. She also has a similar “beak” to a swan, a dark area on her face that she simply can’t change the color of. She also has dexterous claw talons, excellent for gripping onto trees or delicate dexterity. And the oddest thing about RainWings is that they initially appear wingless, similar to a draco lizard. RainWing ribs expand and and glide rather than the intense flying that most dragons do, which made her appear weaker than her fellow dragonets of destiny. She always keeps her wings flared, which is risky and makes her underside vulnerable, but it was better than being called a wingless serpent by her guardians.

Glory is a very cautious individual. She doesn’t walk until she knows where she’s going. She won’t begin to walk until she’s sure she can get there confidently. Glory is surprisingly prideful and avoids not to waste her breath, even if she chooses the wrong battles to fight.

Implication of Heritage

If I were to write Glory, I would completely boot out the idea that Glory was biologically destined for the throne. The whole moment where Grandeur spills her guts and explains the whole narrow-minded royal blood idea, that was stupid. Because it implies that all overcoming of adversity will be rewarded with the fact that all those who deserve it will be rewarded with their desires, not for hard work they used to achieve those goals, but simply because they’re supposed to.

Instead, I would make Kinkajou a convenient character in the scene to have a moment of importance, but it doesn’t mean she’ll be the new queen. But I’ll get to that later on. Grandeur will recognize Glory’s selfless and initiative as the prime reason she is more deserving to be queen. The idea that she’s fighting so desperately to help the NightWing prisoners, and that’s reflected by how she puts away the chance to win the Queen Competition for the life of this little dragonet.

Glory should have been Queen through initiative and new perspective, not the idea that she was “smarter” than the RainWings or that the RainWings were too “lazy” to have a functioning leader. She should have been a respectable character who overcomes her biting remarks to be truly selfless, put aside her needs and desires to help this tribe. Be the leader that Sunny would look up to.

Miscellaneous Thoughts

Glory doesn’t honestly get the proper respect as a grumpy character considering the trauma she’s went through and considering her entire life has been ruined as those who raised her repeatedly told her she shouldn’t exist and that they ought to kill her. Not as an empty threat! The acceptance of her situation seemed so understated (until it was revealed she had a plan) and no one really respects that she had the shortest end of the stick compared to the other Dragonets of Destiny. 

Along with that, I feel like it’d be interesting if Glory had an innate distrust or fear or SOMETHING of SkyWings. After being berated by a SkyWing guardian, being meant to be a SkyWing her whole life, Clay unintentionally claiming Peril as the missing SkyWing, and being prisoner and biggest prize of Queen Scarlet of the SkyWings, I don’t see why she wouldn’t be a little more afraid or hostile in a scenario with one. 

One headcanon of mine is that Glory has narcolepsy, a byproduct of not getting enough sun as a sun dependent tribe. She frequently lost control of her muscles during sparring practice with Kestrel, leading her to slither helplessly and worsen her image. She pardoned her sleepiness through consistent naps Under the Mountain, but it became harder to excuse after they left the mountain. Once the sun hit her scales on the marble tree in Scarlet’s clutches, she finally gave in and slept for a majority of that time, otherwise overwhelmed and unable to move. Unfortunately, along with classic form of narcolepsy, Glory also has hallucinations. She often interprets her hallucinations as Kestrel or Queen Scarlet, long after their deaths. Despite denying special treatment as the RainWing Queen, she does give into sun times to satiate the urge in her to rest.

Narcolepsy is also described as being triggered by high surges of emotion. Another reason why Glory does her best to suppress her emotions, to stay in control of her consciousness.

It can negatively affect relationships with other people by being triggered during these surges of emotion and as a result, Glory is not quite as emotionally connected to her siblings as the others are. As the consequences of the war subsides, she wishes to try making up for lost time and finally respond to her narcolepsy instead of be frustrated and angry with it.

Glory’s reign of the Rain Forest Queendom is characterized not by her inherent intelligence over the other RainWings. In fact, a majority of the beginning of her rule is learning the rich history and important traditions of RainWings from Duke Handsome. Due to her unfamiliarity with oral history, her first order is to try and record as much history and as many orders as possible to keep the RainWings’ respect and learn about her own culture. 

As well as that, Glory steels herself, with the sympathy of her siblings, Prince Jambu, Duke Handsome, and the other Queens, when ruling the NightWings. So easily could she take out her anger on these innocent victims of their own actions. But in the end, she learns it’s more important to be the bigger person and move forward in peace, not dwell in hatred.

Despite that, Glory is still apprehensive before directly meeting with SkyWing figures such as Queen Ruby. 

Glory and Tsunami probably have the closest relationship out of any of the other Dragonets of Destiny. Tsunami looks up to Glory as a queen and Glory makes fun of her lack of royal blood for it. Tsunami, after apprenticing with General Shark, also assists in the disciplining and order in the Rain Forest Queendom. Tsunami, Sunny, and Glory are the main royalty figures establishing a fairer justice system in the Rain Forest so there are no more Chameleons and that individuals like Mastermind have a place to go.

LGBT+ Headcanons

Glory, for a large part of the story we see her, is probably questioning her orientation. She’s never felt the right to be loved and never been able to emotionally connect with anyone enough to feel worthy of affection. Eventually, she comes out as a lesbian! Proudly leading her two tribes with acceptance and understanding. The Rain Forest proudly leads the largest Pride Parades with the SandWing queendom following closely behind. (Which means Deathbringer x Glory is not canon in my headcanons! He can ROT.)

Glory is also a trans woman! She did not embrace it easily with the role models she had growing up. She had always been told she was born incorrectly (for OTHER reasons, but it’s for the metaphor), but with the unconditional support from her siblings, especially her solidarity with Starflight, she was able to come to terms with her identity and be even more prideful because of it. Fully taking her destiny and her life into her own talons has empowered her more than anything after the events of the SandWing War of Succession.