#fun fact I’m trying out a new way of drawing snouts

[sangummeo]

Continuing with the brainrot, Zaria and her partner!

Ayrndez (pronounced Urn-des) is a laid back peep, and tends to have low energy. They work as a freelance videographer and film editor on the side, while helping out as a stage technician for various raves or productions.

Edit: weezer

[almightyhamslice]

I think it’s about time I introduced Kira here. She’s basically an incredibly warped dragon dance puppet, who has also been banished to the human world, just like the boys! The first drawing of her is current (26 y/o), while the other 3 are her 4 yrs prior to the events of Team Smithereen Reunion Special (22 y/o), so her horns are a bit shorter & her snout is more broad. She and Whoop were circus performers together for a while! Generally Kira had more experience, but her managers favored Whoop because he felt more “grounded”. 

Whoop and Kira used to be friends, since they were the only other puppets in each other’s lives for a few years. However, Kira became more and more jealous of Whoop, since he was stealing her spotlight. The two made a deal to share their earnings since Kira was getting less across the board, but this quickly became an issue because Whoop is... pretty bad with money. So it became less like an equal share and more like increasing debt. Even after the two parted ways, Kira did not forgive Whoop and swore she’d get back every cent he owed her. So, any time they see each other in the present day, they fight.

Typically in the puppet world, dragon dancers don’t really walk anywhere, instead preferring to fly; they have no proper limbs so it’s most convenient for them to stay propelled by the wind. Kira had been ostracized from there for about 6 years when Whoop met her, so overtime her body had to readjust to better suit a human lifestyle. Her supportive poles gradually turned into limbs, allowing her to stand upright! As such she also has a makeshift ‘spine’ derived from the hoops running from her head to her tail. It’s still not quite solid, so her movements can look very ragdoll-esque.

Her design isn’t quite final, I’m still trying to figure out her colors & how to keep a balance between reptilian and mammalian features. Also I might give her whiskers. 

Alsoooo... pretty big lost media update!! I found a 2 minute clip from the 2013 pilot!! It does contain a lot of footage that was in the highlights video, but it provides more context for it! I know it doesn’t seem like much, but I’m actually SO glad I found it! It makes me so happy knowing at least a little fragment of the film is still there. I’ll put a cut here for brevity’s sake, but there is more!

Also, little fun fact about the pilot that I only realized watching this new clip, they actually cut Stunt Pig out of the logo for it! So the variant they used has Whoop and Thrill Kat more spaced out & not squished together anymore, and there’s like a little circle between them. I think it’s at least connected to Whoop so it could be his arm, or it could also be connected to Thrill Kat, meaning the logo might be showing them holding hands! That’s so cute. They are best pals...

I know, it’s very low resolution, but it’s the best I’ve got. What do you think, is it just Whoop’s hand or is it both their hands?

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 34- Leyline

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

The hermits rush to save Grian from the precipice of death, and discover the locations of their next great fight. 

Warning: Mentions of blood, wounds, death

______________________________

Hypno runs his finger along the map. “We noticed it here, by the Midnight harbor. The ground was all…” 

Scar takes up the mantle. If there’s one person who knows dirt and landscaping, it’s him. “I saw that the grass was wilted, just a little bit off color from the rest of the area. At first i thought maybe it was just a ditch or something, but it was too perfect a line to be natural.” 

“Scar and his dirt.” Cub chuckles. His fellow convex knows about soil and land better than anyone. It’s how he became such a natural S-Class. 

“Yeah, he ate it too.” Hypno shudders. 

“It didn’t taste right, it didn’t feel right. The ground I mean. It was all dry and crumbled on my tongue.” Scar ignores Hypno’s shaking head, focused on remembering what he, Beef, and Hypno had seen. Trying not to get distracted and lose his train of thought. “I followed the line, and it led straight to-” 

Lightning crackled through the sky, interrupting Scar mid sentence and sending all of the hermits skittering under the tree. But not a cloud is in sight, the blue unmarred by anything except sunlight. Xisuma is the first to check the horizon, to watch for a husk storm or impending invasion. Nothing there either. 

A wave crashes up against the hill, surging over sand and grass. From the sea, four figures appear. Beef transforms into a massive, beastly bull, snorting and ready to charge whoever dares disturb the hermits. Hypno and Xisuma summon their magic, while Scar is still getting over his spooked stumble. 

The strangers run past the guild hall, running directly into the village half of Eremita. Beef takes off after them, chasing the red fabric that quivers in the wind. He lowers his horns, his speed buffeting his brown fur. Intense, tunnel vision only for the angry, vibrant color. Even ignoring the splatters of red on the dirt and grass. Beef is mere inches away from goring the four, til something constricts around one of his horns and pulls. 

“Stop, Beef!” Hypno calls, digging his shoes into the ground and pulling the lasso taut. “It’s our friends, look!” 

Beef blinks, taking a deep breath through his snout and blinking back the feral mindset his form dares to take up. Indeed, xB stands between Beef and the other three. Iskall and Mumbo are soaking wet, continuing without the kipling. And in their arms is Grian, limp and unresponsive. It was his cloak that enticed Beef into charging. The bright red of the fabric mixes with the dark stains of blood. 

The taurus mage returns to his human form. “What’s going on?” 

“Grian’s hurt. Real bad.” xB looks over his shoulder, waiting until the door to the infirmary shuts tight. Xisuma races after, grabbing Joe and Wels. “They called for me to help them cross the sea. We lost him for a few minutes on the way here.” 

Hypno, xB, and Beef watch the other hermits scurry across the island. They were a family, each and every one of them willing to do whatever it takes to help the others. Beef’s voice hitches as he speaks. “L-lost him? Like… you misplaced him, right? What do you mean lost him? He couldn’t have… he didn’t die, right?”

xB’s silence is answer enough. Hypno pulls his hand through his hair, running across the black material that keeps wayward locks from his face. “For being our guild’s only healer, he sure knows how to get himself in harm’s way.” 

“Maybe that’s how he keeps the rest of us safe.” Beef follows after TFC, joining the other hermits in the crowded infirmary. Almost every hermit is in the tiny space, crowding in to try and help stabilize Grian. 

“-killed us. Dolios ambushed us a-and killed Iskall and me.” Mumbo’s stammering cuts through the orders coming from Wels, Joe, and Ren. 

“And then Grian used his archangel aura to revive us.” Iskall adds. “He was already so hurt, all I remember is waking up and seeing him resurrect Mumbo. Then pass out.” 

Everything the hermits were talking about before has been abandoned. Scar’s discovery is the last thing on their mind. Right now, all they can focus on is keeping Grian alive. Ren mimics Grian’s magic, hands glowing with light, and gets to work. Healing the wounds, both internal and external. Wels casts a healing buff, aiding Grian’s body in the process, and Joe writes just about every medical supply the hermits could ever need. 

Xisuma filters out the hermits, until it’s just the necessary bodies filling the small infirmary. TFC, Xisuma, Iskall, Mumbo, and the three that were fighting to keep Grian from slipping away. 

And Scar. He sits in the chair beside Grian’s bed, leg bouncing as he tries to understand what Iskall and Mumbo told him. “Dolios had another crystal? He was using it against you guys?” 

“He lured us in, and attacked us. He was there. He didn’t even flinch at killing.” Mumbo shakes his head. 

“He’s a bastard, and a mega one at that.” Iskall adds. Silence falls over the infirmary, only the sound of Grian’s healing, his shallow breath filling the air between the hermits. 

“Did he mention how he corrupted that crystal? Why?” Scar finally whispers, not taking his eyes off Ren’s glowing hands. He knows that Grian’s healing magic isn’t easy. It’s painful, forcing the body to heal itself. The fact that Grian isn’t even moving worries him. 

“He said it took him weeks to make that thing.” Iskall answers, since Mumbo is too preoccupied watching the procedure. His teeth worry his lip, making the mustache dance on his face. He just wants his friend to be okay. “And...and he said something about a- a creation? That he needed the power for him and his creation.” 

Scar’s brows furrow, deep in thought. Piecing together all the parts of the story. It’s like he’s reading a book in random order, finding scraps of the tale and gluing them to make one full line. “The crystals are sending the stolen magic somewhere. They can’t be holding that much power, they’re like...like…” 

“Like redstone redstone torches.” Mumbo breathes, eyes lighting up. “So there has to be something it’s powering.” 

“And that line of dirt and grass, I think it’s got something to do with the stolen magic. It’s a circuit. A leyline of magic.” Scar crashes backwards in his chair, rolling out and slamming the door out of it’s frame. He returns a second later, holding the map. He lays the parchment over Grian’s legs. It’s not like he’s moving anytime soon anyway. 

“Leylines? Like what the ancient ones used?” Joe picks his head up from battling a roll of gauze. Leylines haven’t been used in eons. No one knows how to tap into their energy. It was magic lost with the ancient civilization, pre-Lairyon. 

“Not exact leylines, but more… artificial ones, I guess. Hand me some charcoal.” Xisuma pulls a pencil from his pockets. Always prepared. Scar snatches the pencil, and begins to draw across the map. Straight lines connecting crystals and husk storms. The more lines that Scar adds, the more apparent that his crazy, wild line of thinking becomes. Lines begin to connect, three hotspots appear. 

“The evernight forest.” Ren breathes, hands drifting back from Grian’s body. 

Scar ignores the whisper, continuing with his work. Another hotspot rises from the straight lines, this time on the other side of the kingdom. TFC shakes his head, as if it was obvious. “The Crystal Mines, of course.” 

One final place, and Xisuma growls from beneath his mask as the lines intersect, right in the broken heart island that is nestled within Lairyon’s moon-shaped continent. “Heartbreak Trench.” 

Scar shakes his head. “The power being stolen by those crystals has to be going to these places. Routing power to these for Dolios to use.” 

“What does he need all of that power for? What could he be using it for?” Iskall looks across the map, noticing something else. “It’s in three corners of Lairyon. North, east, and south. Does that mean there’s one to the west as well?” 

Xisuma traces the lines, but they lead to everywhere and anywhere within the western hemisphere of lairyon. “If there is one, we don’t know where it is. For now, we should go on what we know. We should go in search of these hotspots, follow the leylines.” 

“Sounds like a fun new adventure.” All of the hermits present look down, a weak, aching voice joining the conversation. “Where are we going next?” 

Grian is awake, wincing with only one eye open. Iskall and Mumbo are hovering over him, while Grian observes the white bandages that cross over his body, wrap around his arms. He looks around for his shirt and cloak, relieved to find them in decent condition. Otherwise, BDubs is going to have another sewing job. 

Scar hugs his friend tight, until Grian is practically squeaking from the pain and pressure. “So good to have you back among the living, my man. No dark mage can hold you down for long.” 

“If it means giving Dolios a taste of his own medicine after our battle, I’m in.” Grian smiles, already attempting to sit up. Ready to get back to saving the world. “So…. what wild adventure waits for us now?”

[maomaomeows]

Hairless Cat! S/O: Mao Mao

Request: your ask box seems to be closed on your tumblr, or at least I can't find it, so I'll drop my request here bfyudksbvfjdsvx- What if s/o was was a hairless cat? i think it'd be kinda interesting to see how he'd handle the whole 'hairless cats are ugly and mean' stereotype and stuff like how they get cold easier or can't be in the sun for too long without getting sunburnt. (sorry i rlly like hairless cats aaa) thanks-

[A/N: I'm back!! Sorry for the giant hiatus everyone!! Hopefully I should be posting regularly again! This was very fun to write, (I love hairless cats!!!) and I can't wait to fill the next request! I love you all so much. Thank you for all of the love and support <3 Anyways, under a read-more since it’s long!]

He’s had a lot of experience with all sorts of animals, so you’re not the strangest person he’s seen: not by a long shot. Not to mention, he grew up in a cat-dominated city. Some of his more distant family members are Peterbalds, as well! He has a very deep respect for hairless cats, and he has plenty of experience with them.

That’s not to say he views y’all accurately, though. At least, not at first.

He actually bows to you the first time you two meet. Hairless cats are typically royalty where he’s from!

He’s very confused when he looks up and doesn’t see you wearing gold jewelry, or bearing the traditional tattoos. It’s an... awkward few moments of eye contact. You don’t understand why he’s bowing, and he doesn’t understand why you look so... normal? Civilian-like? Why are you dressed so casually?

He follows you around for a little while out of habit. He thinks he has to protect you. You must be royalty in disguise, right? There’s no way a hairless cat is just another citizen! You have to be some sort of royal family member in disguise. Maybe you’re on a secret mission? Yeah, that has to be it! He follows you from the shadows, ready to protect you from danger at a moment's notice.

You eventually convince him that you’re just a normal cat and god, he’s embarrassed.

He thinks you’re really cool, honestly. There aren’t many furless mammals around, so it’s really cool to see natural skin. He views it as a symbol of strength and individuality.

Adorabat loves to paint on you since it’s easier to get the paint off! The little paint swirls stand out so well on your skin, and you can't help but giggle at the starry-eyed look she gets. It's like painting on a breathing canvass to her!

She got so excited when you mentioned tattoos and their significance in your culture: she likes to pretend she’s giving you pretty tattoos now!

Mao Mao loves the bond you two share. It makes him fall so much deeper in love with you. She's practically his kid, after all.

Mao Mao will absolutely defend you from bigoted folks. You look a little different from everyone else: so what? What’s their issue with that? Are they really so close minded that they can’t even fathom a different genetic structure? He gets really heated about it. He hates it when people judge you right off the bat, condemning you without getting to know you. He will throw down with someone over it, if you let him.

He honestly doesn’t understand where the “ugly and mean,” stigma comes from. You’re so kind...how could anyone perceive you differently? Why make such broad, negative generalizations about people they don’t even know? And you’re so pretty!

He loves how naturally social you are! You’re always someone he can come to when he isn’t feeling his greatest, and he treasures that so much.

He buys you a little parasol to help you weather the sun. It makes even more people stare, but honestly, it’s better than getting a sunburn! It ends up becoming a key piece of your aesthetic. Some people think you're a witch at this point. You don't bother correcting them.

The most embarrassing moment of your guys relationship was when you got up from the couch, only to reveal a small oil stain. Despite the embarrassment, you both had a big laugh about it. You remember the way he doubled over, laughing until he wheezed. He tried to stop himself from laughing by putting his paws over his snout, but once you assured him that it was, in fact hilarious, he took his paws away and laughed for ages. You laughed along with him despite the raging blush of embarrassment. It’s a very fond memory that really solidified your relationship’s trust. You ended up changing your diet that day anyways. Oily skin isn't fun, anyways.

He always picks at your food while you eat. He claims he’s just trying it, but it happens every night! He actually just likes the high quality ingredients he uses in your food.

He ends up switching his diet over to yours as well to make things easier. It makes him feel fancy, anyways.

He tries his hardest to get you to blush. He thinks it's adorable!! He loves how easy he can gauge his advancements as well. You can't fake a blush! And you can't hide yours!

He gets really nervous in the winter. I mean, he gets cold in winter, and he grows a whole new coat for it! He can’t imagine how chilly you get. He totally goes overboard when buying clothes for you. Most of your closet consists of parkas, scarves, and thermals.

Wakes up early to start the fireplace in the morning once winter hits.

He loves to give you forehead kisses. He thinks it’s cute when you flex your “brows” at him in response. He can’t help but snort at the patterns it makes, and he ends up poking you whenever you respond that way. It’s a sweet little inside joke.

He honestly thinks clothes fit you super well? Skin-tight stuff is mesmerizing. The way it clings so effortlessly to your frame, without a single hair marring the cling of the fabric...it’s incredible to him. He's enchanted.

He loves to hold you. The feel of fur on skin is weird, but it’s become a comforting feeling to him. He loves to trace little patterns on you when you cuddle.

Which is very unfortunate if you’re ticklish. His fur always seems to drag across your skin in a way that makes you giggle!! And he knows what he’s doing!! He’s so stubborn about it as well. He won’t stop until you call a time-out.

He smiles every time you yawn. He thinks you’re cute.

He wants to draw on you, but he has no artistic talent. He’s too shy to learn!! He hates not being perfect at first attempt, and well...art is a honed skill. He loves the idea of painting night skies on your back, and making sharpie tattoos for you, but it’ll probably never happen.

You can convince him to write on you, though! He does great calligraphy.

Sometimes he’ll write little poems on your wrist, or your sides. He likes to do this when you’re sleeping, for two reasons. A.) So he doesn’t get embarrassed or flustered about it, and B.) So you have a nice surprise when you wake up!

They’re short, but sweet.

He’s actually a really good poet! Most of the things he writes on you are of his own creation.

Beauty isn't seen by eyes.

It's felt by hearts,

Recognized by souls,

In the presence of love

Overall, he thinks you’re gorgeous. He won’t hesitate to defend you from bigoted people, and he’s always here to help you with any accommodations you may need. You’re beautiful. He loves you so much, and he feels so lucky to have you by his side. He’ll do anything for you!

[aenwoedbeannaa]

Oxenfurt Wonders | Geralt x Reader

Summary: The former stablehand and Geralt, along with their horses Immi and Roach, visit Oxenfurt. This is technically Part 2 of Talking to Horses, but can be read as a stand-alone one shot.

Word Count: 1,902

Warnings: None.

A/N: After last night’s super dark story, I figured it was time for some of the fluffiest fluff. Hope you enjoy!

If you enjoy my work and want to check out more of it, you can check out my masterlist, and if you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, comment or message me and I would be happy to add you 😊. Also, I do have a ko-fi page now, and I would really appreciate if anyone is able to give a little; it would really help me out with this whole career change dream & the whole not working and not getting paid amid this disaster thing. But of course, the best way y’all support me is just by reading and sharing my work. I appreciate it more than I can say.

                                                      ***

“Immi!” You scold your speckled mare, who took it upon herself to nudge you—hard—in the shoulder, expecting a treat. Of course, even as you scold her, your hand is reaching into your pack, pulling out a brilliantly red apple you purchased from one of the stalls in Novigrad, the first city you’d visited upon leaving your small village. The mare happily plucks the apple from your fingers and devours the whole thing in three bites, core and all.

“You’ve really got to stop encouraging her,” Geralt drawls as he leisurely brushes his own dark brown mare, Roach.

You narrow your eyes at him, “Oh, please,” you respond in a drawl of your own, “You treat that horse like a princess.”

Geralt gives you one of his sideways grins, muttering a soft hmm of acknowledgment that he’s been beaten. You smile smugly as you reach up to scratch Immi’s velvet-soft head.

It is difficult to wrap your mind around the fact that you’ve been traveling with him for nearly a month, helping with various monster contracts as you go. Though, as he told you several times, it is rare that a real monster is actually the culprit for the things you are sent to investigate.

First, there had been the old haunted house—which he had correctly guessed was not, in fact, haunted. Instead, there was a harmless squatter residing in the sizable mansion’s many unused rooms. Next, there’d been a supposed beast stalking merchant carts out near a crossroads which, naturally, was not a beast at all. You hung back as Geralt had instructed and watched him take out an entire camp of bandits who had been making easy pickings of the merchant carts that passed through.

The only real monster you’d encountered this whole time was actually a whole group of monsters. Several necrophages had made the site of an old battlefield their new home—two whole nests of Nekkers had been drawn to the death-stench of the field. It was then that you’d showed off your considerable skills at climbing trees, waiting up in the branches while Geralt cut down the necrophages one after the other, until you were able to slink down and throw the special Witchers’ bomb into the next, watching it erupt in flame.

Every adventure was more exciting than the last, it seemed to you. But the adventure you were on now was the most exciting of them all so far—a trip to Oxenfurt. You’d never seen the city, and Geralt promised you that you would love it. He’d said it with such warmth in his eyes, your heart had stopped for a minute.

“How far now?” You asked impatiently, as you pulled a small brown bag full of food you’d picked up at the last market. You took a bite out of a biscuit—dry and flavorless, but apparently full of all of the nutrients you needed. Geralt had slipped a couple extra into your bag after you’d decided to spend more money on apples and carrots for Immi.

“Wouldn’t want you starving,” he’d said.

Geralt tipped his head back slightly, laughing that deep and rumbling laugh that still made your knees go all wobbly, “How far?” He repeated your words  exactly the way you’d said them, earning a small hmph of disapproval from you.

“Oh, relax,” the Witcher says, tucking the brush he’d been using back into the saddlebags and crossing over to you in a few quick steps.

He passes Immi first, who aggressively nuzzles her snout into his neck. He smiles softly, patting the mare on the side of her neck, before taking the one more step that has him standing right beside you. Suddenly, you are all too aware of the hard travel biscuit you’re still eating, swallowing quickly for not wanting to wolf the thing down right in his ear.

Your breath catches in your throat as he places his fingers gently underneath your chin, tipping your lowered head up towards his own, gazing into your eyes with that liquid-gold stare that leaves you speechless.

“Such an impatient girl.” The way he says it, though, bares no hint of annoyance or anger. Instead, there’s some sort of warmth there—maybe even adoration.

Or, I could be making it all up, you chide yourself.

But his eyes hold yours for another moment; one of those frozen in time moments, where the rest of the world seems to slow down and slip away, leaving only the two of you—his fingers under your chin, his eyes fixed on yours. The nearly imperceptible shift of his eyes toward your mouth and then back to your eyes again, as if he’s done something wrong.

Your eyes flick to his lips, wishing one million times over that you could just stand up on your toes and kiss them. They look full and soft, and the smell of him is so intoxicating that you just want to drink it in, to taste it.

But then he removes his fingers, as if he’s burned them, and you take in involuntary step back. The moment fades away and the rest of the world comes back into focus again. The horses, the road, the quick lunch, and the sun just starting it’s descent from its noon high. Traveling, right. You are supposed to be traveling.

“We’ll be there by tomorrow morning, if we make it far enough before nightfall.

***

That night, you lie awake, listening to Geralt’s steady breathing only a few feet away from you. Your heart hammers in your chest as you think about those few moments today where you thought that he might do it, might kiss you. And then, as per usual, your mind careens off-course as you wonder why he didn’t—spinning with all of the reasons you must not be good enough for him.

***

“This is…” you trail off, eyes drinking in all of the city around you, “It’s beautiful.”

You’ve only just entered through the city gates, and already it is so different from any place you’ve ever been. Of course, Novigrad was a bigger city, and the two of you had already been there, but that city had some sort of feeling that just was not quite right. All of the poor in the streets; the way people were after anyone who might be a witch—or rather, might be something or someone other than them. But Oxenfurt… Oxenfurt is very different. Full of color and the tantalizing smell of food, full of students rushing about with large books under their shoulders or satchels full of medical supplies. This place seemed like the type of place where anything might be possible.

You can’t help but repeat, “Isn’t it beautiful?”

You are too busy staring at the hustle and bustle of the city around you to look at Geralt, who is too busy staring at the girl holding loosely to the reins of her beloved horse to be looking at the city around him, “Yes, so beautiful.”

***

Once Immi and Roach are comfortably set up in the stable of the inn that Geralt had told you about, you head off into the city. And, as you walk from the market to the university, you can’t help but notice Geralt slowly moving closer and closer to you, until you are so close that you keep bumping into each other. Each time, you swear it feels like he draws out the contact just a little more, and your heart flutters.

He laughs when your eyes go wide at the sight of a merchant spinning candy floss. You feel a warm hand on your shoulder and tip your head up and back towards the white haired Witcher, scrunching your face in mock irritation. “What? I’ve never seen it before!”

There were no merchants spinning sugar into clouds, even on the big market days in your old little village. You have to try it.

But, as you step forward, Geralt steps forward faster, ordering two sticks of the fluffy, colored candy floss and drops two coins on the merchant’s counter. He hands one to you and keeps one for himself, pulling off some of the candy and popping it into his mouth.

Now, it’s your turn to laugh at the sight of a Witcher in full gear and carrying two swords on his back eating spun sugar. But you don’t really have time to make fun of him, because you are also probably a strange sight—a grown woman, mystified by things that the people here have seen all of their lives. And, you are too curious to try it.

You pluck off a rather large piece and put it in your mouth, smiling as it melts on your tongue. It tastes even better than you’d imagined. The two of you walk away from the stall and towards a small park overlooking the campus.

Before you can make it to the empty bench you are headed for, however, a student, nose buried in a book, runs smack into Geralt’s side and making him lose his balance. Instinctively, you reach out a hand to steady him, gripping his elbow. He doesn’t fall, but he does drop the remainder of his cotton candy on the ground.

“Damn,” he mutters with a small chuckle as you sit down on the bench.

You laugh, chewing on your lower lip as you look from the last of your own candy floss to Geralt’s lips, and then back again. Quickly, before you can change your mind, you rip the last piece from the stick and toss it away into a nearby bin, holding up the remaining little puff of candy to Geralt, “Here. I’m full, anyway.”

Now it is Geralt who chews on his lower lip for a moment, staring at your hand, then your face, then your hand again. You expected him to pluck it from your fingers with his own, but instead, he slowly tilts his head towards you, bringing his lips to the last bite. Your heart speeds up impossibly as his eyes flick to your own, a spark flickering through them as he closes his lips gently around your thumb—your eyes quite literally flutter shut as he flicks his tongue over the pad of your thumb.

How damn often have you thought of his tongue? Too many times.

When your eyes flicker back open again, his face is mere inches from yours, a devilish grin on those full lips. When he catches you looking, he moves in closer, so that all you have to do is tilt your chip up and…

He presses his lips to yours, and you feel like a dam has erupted in your chest. You’d thought about this moment for so long, imagined what kissing him would feel like, taste like. It feels even better than you imagined it would, and tastes like sugar and woodsmoke and cedar. Your senses all pool into one as you let your mouth fall open.

His hand cups the side of your face as his tongue explores your mouth, drawing a soft, satisfied sigh from you. You can feel him smile into the kiss as your hand comes to rest on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin even through his many layers of clothing—that warmth, and the steady heartbeat that feels even better than seeing the whole world.              

Taglitst: @fairytale07 @geeksareunique @jesseswartzwelder @haru-ririchiyo @unnamedmaincharacter @lazilyscentedwerewolf  @valkyriepuff     @comicbeginning @angelias134 @morgannope @royallylazy @alyxkbrl @curlyhairedandconfused  @nikolanna @divineslipcast​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @seninjakitey​ @boogeywoogeywoogeywoogeywoogey​ @superconfusedandreadytorumble​ @keithseabrook27​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @sinnamon-bunn​  @sallyp-53​ @superconfusedandreadytorumble​            

[zenithlux]

Cadence Update - 24

Catch up on the story here!

Long lost words whisper slowly to me Still can’t find what keeps me here When all this time I’ve been so hollow inside I know your still there Watching me…

Haunted - Evanescence

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That night, the nightmares returned.

He’d forgotten how miserable each one was; an endless cycle of torture and almost-death that always ended once he’d healed again. He’d tried to forget them. He’d thought he’d moved on. But on this particular night, this particular set of dreams, he knew that he failed. 

Oh Nelo…

Mundus’ face hovered in the sky above him, but Vergil didn’t dare meet its gaze. He couldn’t. Not anymore. Not when that monster was so close to him now. Over and over he chanted: It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. But that only amused Nightmare Mundus, whose booming laugh reverberated in Vergil’s very bones.

You tried so hard to escape.

Vergil hissed as shards of glass shot through him in so many places his brain couldn’t process them all. He bit his tongue, drawing blood as another one pierced straight through his chest. His lungs collapsed - he’d felt that enough times to know what was happening - and he gasped as air flooded out of him in a panic. 

But this is inevitable, Nelo. 

The shards retreated. His body healed. Air rushed back into his lungs, painfully filling in where the holes had once been. It wouldn’t be long until another series of something impaled him. Glass. Swords. Bones. Yamato. 

Yamato… That is an interesting idea. Mundus whispered. I wonder if I’d be better off discarding your pesky human emotions altogether. 

Vergil wished he could fight back. He prayed for some kind of snide remark that would prove he was still fighting. But nothing came to him but cold, hard dread. He would not survive a second break. His human form would vanish in an instant. His demon half would follow its new master. He would cease to exist. 

Vergil!

Mundus growled. That foolish girl interrupts what she does not understand. 

“Leave her out of this,” Vergil said. 

Vergil! Wake up!

Mundus chuckled. I’m afraid that’s just not possible. But how fun it will be to tear her to pieces in front of you. Maybe I’ll start with the familiars…

“Enough!” Vergil shouted, stretching against the chains that dug further into his skin. “You will not have me.”

We shall see. 

“Wake up!”

Vergil snapped upright in a panic. A yelp of surprise caught him off guard as his hand found flesh. A blast of cold smacked him in the chest. He recoiled as his vision finally cleared. Roxy hit the ground, gasping for air as she reached for her neck. A bruise was already forming, and Vergil realized what he’d done. 

No…

No. No. No.

“Leave!” He yelled.

“No!” She snapped back as she dragged herself to her feet. 

“I said…”

“I’m not leaving you!”

Silence fell. Kuro retreated, his energy slipping back into Roxy. The bruise vanished, leaving Vergil to stare into her furious gaze instead. 

No… not furious. 

Terrified.

“I hurt you.” 

“It was my fault,” She said. “I shouldn’t have tried to shake you awake like that.”

 “You didn’t have a choice.”

“It was Mundus, wasn’t it?” When Vergil said nothing, she sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“You…”

“Dia won’t be back for at least a week. She’s working with Nico as we speak and has Dante and Nero watching out for more unusual portals. Our Yamato thief has not reappeared, but the chances of them finding this place are slim to none.”

“There’s still a chance.”

“That is why we need to figure out what we have to do,” She said. “The moment Dia comes back, we have to make the pact or this will all be for nothing. I’ve located some of my father’s work, but I’ve only found some information on his transplants.” She paused for a moment then, quietly, she said, “Have you always had nightmares?”

“I assumed you were aware of them.”

Roxy blinked. “Why? I sleep pretty soundly when I actually fall asleep.”

“When you actually…?” Vergil trailed off as his gaze hardened. “How many days?”

She looked away. “Since?”

“You’ve slept a full night.”

Still, she didn’t look at him, but her fingers tightened on the blanket. “Three or so.” She mumbled. “I’ve gotten about eight hours total. I think. Maybe less.” She shook her head. “This isn’t about me.”

“If you’ve needed help…”

She snorted. “With what, sleeping? And how are you going to help with that? Sing me a lullaby?”

“You need to rest.” 

“I can’t, Vergil.” There was a hint of anger in her tone, but she clearly didn’t have the energy to express it. “And I don’t appreciate you turning this conversation on me.” When she met his gaze again, it was with a soft, warning glare. “How would I know about your nightmares?”

“Aki,” Vergil said. “He’s always been there when I have one.”

She stared at him, and Vergil was absolutely positive she had no idea what he was talking about. “But why?” She muttered, more to herself than him. “How would that even help?” She went silent for a moment as her eyes closed. Vergil could imagine her reaching deep into her subconscious, searching for Aki’s soul. Maybe she would summon him. Maybe she wouldn’t. It didn’t matter as long as she got answers. When her eyes opened again, they were Kuro’s pale blue. “Aki says he could feel your distress and wanted to comfort you.” She shook her head. “I never considered that my own familiars could help you.” 

“How?”

“Kuro’s magic is primarily healing,” She said. “And Aki has likely absorbed plenty over the years…” Her eyes brightened suddenly as if a literal lightbulb had gone off in her head. “I can help too!”

“What?”

“Proximity,” She whispered. “Maybe if I sleep in the same room…”

“Absolutely not. I’m not risking your life to make myself feel better.” Vergil said. 

Her anger flared up again. This time, she had no trouble showing it. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I’m not an idiot, Roxy.” He said. “I saw the bruise.”

“I bruise very easily,” She said. “And, as you can see,” she waved her hand near her neck. “It’s gone.”

“Roxy,”

“Please, Vergil,” She said. “Let me at least try.” 

“... You’re not going to give this up are you?”

“Nope.”

Vergil sighed. “Fine.” 

--------------

After three days of near-perfect sleep, it was Kuro who woke Vergil up. 

“Come,” The dragon said, his snout incredibly close to Vergil’s face. “Leave her here.” He hopped off the bed and sauntered away, leaving Vergil to stare at the ceiling. Roxy was asleep beside him, as her heartbeat was a gentle thump that had miraculously kept most of the nightmares away. He’d had a couple, but she’d always been there to soothe him back to sleep. In fact, Roxy had barely left his side since her promise, constantly finding ways to distract him when his mind wandered too far. And Vergil didn’t mind the constant companionship, though he was very aware that he was much less her caretaker now than she was his. But, considering how quiet the rest of his family had been (which he hoped was a good sign), she was the glue holding him together. 

Of course, none of this helped him figure out what Kuro could possibly want on a morning like this. The dragon had been rather quiet as of late. After they’d been forced to give Roxy some of Vergil’s blood to keep her functioning without the extra demons to help, Kuro had all but disappeared. Roxy said he was keeping track of her “from within” (though she had sounded a bit skeptical about that). The dragon had claimed he was giving them privacy, but the two had both agreed they weren’t doing anything that necessarily needed it. Sure, the two had been more open about their feelings toward each other, but they still had a lot to figure out before anything… drastic.

Honestly, that was the furthest thing from Vergil’s mind at the moment. They’d have plenty of time to figure things out once Mundus was taken care of. 

Aki appeared on Vergil’s chest and gave a series of chirps as he tilted his head in what Vergil assumed was a “what are you waiting for?”. Then, the bird ran up Vergil’s arm and curled up in the small space beside a sleeping Roxy. Vergil sighed as he absentmindedly ran his thumb along her arm. Dia hadn’t returned yet, though he had no way of knowing how time worked between her world and theirs. He didn’t have the mental energy to stress over that too. 

A low growl is what finally got him out of bed, and he wasn’t surprised to find a very irritated, and rather large Kuro sitting outside. He towered a good few feet over Vergil, tongue flicking in pure frustration.

Vergil was not impressed. 

“Slow as usual,” Kuro said.

“If you’re trying to intimidate me, don’t bother,” Vergil replied.

“You are not ready.”

“For?”

“To be her familiar.”

Vergil’s eyebrow shot up. “It is temporary, is it not?”

“You don’t know how long that might be,” Kuro said. “What if Mundus’ hold on you does not immediately break? What if his mark remains and he comes after her? What if my power is overused in the process and she needs yours to keep her going?” Kuro’s head rose a bit higher. “You are wholly unprepared for the possibilities, and I am going to teach you.”

“I know how familiars work,” Vergil said. 

“Summoning is a lot different than being summoned.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Kuro huffed. “How do you maintain balance between her energy and yours?”

“I…” Vergil trailed off, realizing the ruse was up.

“How do you keep your thoughts from flowing freely into her mind?”

“I’m sure that’s…”

“How do you keep your nightmares from terrorizing her?”

“You’ve made your point.”

“Have I?” Kuro said. “Do you know how to summon yourself in any form she needs you in, regardless of the strain it puts on you? Do you know how to channel your demonic magic where she needs it instead of yourself? Do you even know what it’s like to put someone else’s safety entirely above your own?” The dragon’s muzzle was uncomfortable close now, and his voice only got louder. “This isn’t some game, Vergil. It’s her life. And I will not allow you to undo the sacrifices I have made to maintain it.” 

“It isn’t my intention to hurt her,” Vergil said. “Nor am I so foolish to risk her life.”

“You’re afraid.”

Vergil’s eyes drifted closed. “Not of her.”

“Of what could happen.”

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Which is why I ask that you learn what you can while you have the chance,” Kuro said. “If something goes wrong, you need to be the one in control, understand?” 

Finally, Vergil nodded. “I do.”

[whichstiel]

I made this art for the 2019 Dean/Cas Tropefest. (HUGE thanks to the mods, Jojo and Muse, for being amazing!) As soon as I read through the summaries, I knew I needed to try to grab the DRAGON STORY right away. I just...really love dragons, okay? This story is delightful and unexpected, with lovely world-building, rich side characters, and a beautiful romance between Dean and Cas. I really enjoyed reading it and working with zaphodsgirl! You can read Shadow & Storm by zaphodsgirl now! You’ll love it. <3

Here’s the summary:

One night, a mysterious visitor appears in young Prince Dean's bedroom, and he suddenly finds himself transported to an abandoned replica of his home in an unknown land. He learns quickly that the borders are finite, and none may leave without incurring the wrath of the guardian: a dragon the people call Storm.

Left with no choice, Dean adapts to life as the others have, tending to the animals and working the land to survive. As he grows up, the life he knew as a prince seems more and more distant, until a new person arrives that he remembers from his childhood. Shaken by this arrival, Dean’s desire to escape returns anew, and he discovers more than he wanted to know about the Shadowlands and its occupants -- especially about the mysterious guardian of the castle, Castiel.

Continue reading for some insight into the process and drafts behind the art.

Reading this story, I was struck by its lovely fairy tale vibe, which inspired me to make some kind of story-book art. I’ve always enjoyed pop-up books, so that seemed like a fun thing to try. My first step was to learn more about pop-ups. I turned to the internet for ideas, and found recommendations for: Pop-up design and paper mechanics, by Duncan Birmingham. This was a really useful book (I got it from the library - and you can too!) It gave me some basic structures and some general rules of thumb for how things fold and work when opened. I stuck with the simpler forms, given the short time period before posting.

Tools & supplies:

Cardstock paper

Watercolor paper (for the folding pages/backdrops and some stand-ups)

Watercolors, colored pencil, sharpie markers

Glue (I really like this scrapbooker’s glue pen for paperwork. Dries FAST and mostly doesn’t warp.)

Scissors, precision knife, ruler, protractor

Bone folder for pressing seams

Once I had some broad ideas of some of the rules of pop-up creation, I started to sketch out some quick ideas. I always like to start with the cover image, since that’s the main image people see when they’re browsing a story list. I did a few basic sketches on paper, but I decided the easiest way to develop these pop-up pieces would be to do what Birmingham called “paper sketching.” With paper sketching, you just...eyeball the pieces, attach it to a folded piece of paper, and cut away whatever paper you don’t want. It’s sort of like working with negative space in that way. Paper sketching was invaluable for helping me figure out things like: how tall should the mountains be? How high are the wings? What can fold together to lay flat? (Because I wanted this to be a functional book.) How long can I make that flame spout? (Not long, as it turned out.)

Here are some paper sketches I made of the cover image. A few of these were before I re-read the story and realized that the castle was built INTO the mountain. Oops. Building drafts helped me to realize that the concept was possible. Once I had some general structures under my belt, I could start to do the finer work of cutting out the final pieces. Draft work was typically done with sketchbook paper or cheap cardstock from Walgreens.

(Left: first draft; Right: Oh my god maybe this will actually work)

I wanted the cover to convey the full expanse of the lands surrounding the castle. I made my author draw me an actual map and diagram of all the agricultural lands. Thanks, zaphodsgirl! I chose black paper for the cover for REASONS you will discover when you read the story.

(Left: background watercolor progress with marker details; Right: taping in a quick test sketch to see if it will fit with the dragon and to test the angle)

Behind the scenes

For each design, I started by painting a watercolor backdrop, making note of the center where I’d need to fold the page. Watercolor paper was a pretty good choice because it’s thick and you can really crease the hell out of that middle joint - and the page stays strong. The cover is the most detailed. For the others, I went with more imprecise watercolor washes - mostly in the interest of time.

Finding a good backdrop is always a challenge when photographing art, and was a big issue for the cover since that dragon really gets lost if there’s too much in the background. I decided to go “Maria from Sound of Music” and pull down one of my curtains as a backdrop. That, plus desk lamps for light made a pretty good set.

This piece features Castiel fading into the dragon. I suffered from proportion control for this project but chose to forge on ahead, anyway. Sometimes the dragon is huge, sometimes it’s small. Oooooh well, it’s a dragon, anyway. :D The little Dean torso is intended to be a manually-opened inset, more to show his reaction than anything else. The dragon is 5 pieces - tail, head and forepaw, wings, and body. Castiel is a single piece; his fold is attached to the dragon and there’s a little paper accordion behind his head to keep him upright.

(Top left: I hate concept sketches; Top right: Cas coming together. I made him too tall! Oh well, I’m gonna roll with it)

Behind the scenes

This next piece was actually the second one I did, because it was the most complex and I wanted to get it finished so I wouldn’t fret over it. The red light is from a bicycle tail-light that I’m holding in the air with one hand while taking a photo with the other. I just really liked that little shadow claw on the ground!

This dragon was somewhat inspired by a Game of Thrones popup my author shared with me. My dragon isn’t as complex, but it still opens wide and closes flat, so I’m happy. It’s basically built as an upside down triangle, cut into a folded piece of paper. The fold is on the bottom. You can draw a line from the fold in its snout to a fold on its torso. The spines were cut out and glued on after the fact because I completely forgot to add them!!!

I was having some trouble with the wings attaching properly, so my test models had the dragon at various stages of height or angles from the ground. Too high and it would pop beyond the book pages. Too low and it might as well be sitting on the page completely. The dragon body has built-in tabs to which the wings are glued and the forest cutouts have this as well, for max strength. This is one of those cards where I went through enough drafts that I resorted to tape as a quick-hold option to figure out things like height and angle and how much dragon could fit in the folded pages. I ended up using an actual tool with (gasp) measurements to finally get the angle of the forest inserts right. Folding the test dragon into the card, I actually just sliced off the excess wing and tail that peeked out from the edges, then used that space when I was cutting out my final dragon.

For each of these, it’s best to get your pattern pieces as close as possible and then use that to cut your final pieces. The angles and length of everything needs to be fairly precise or what worked in your draft won’t fold well in the final version.

(Top left: So many draft pieces, so little time; Top right: Use math, kids!; Bottom: Dragon open and closed)

Behind the scenes

The last piece is modeled after a simple folding animal style. Its feet are glued symmetrically over the fold.

It’s essentially a folded piece of cardstock with an animal cut out of it. The head is attached separately, as are the wings and Amara. I had a star hole punch, which made it easy to add some stars to Amara’s gown as well as on the page. I’d wanted to do a big fold-out window arch here, but realized that it wouldn’t fit over the dragon or the Dean/Cas fold. Ah well. Please imagine it, instead.

(Top left: concept sketch; Top right: Paper sketching is a great reality check; Bottom: Amara astride Storm)

Behind the scenes

The final step was to turn this into some kind of book. At first, I planned to stitch the pages together. I’d never bound a book before, and I was cursing myself for putting down all those layers of pop-up inserts if I was going to have to stitch through each page. Then I looked at some pop-up books and realized that often just the edges of the pages are glued, leaving the middle to float as necessary. This was good, because it was a way easier option! (Also the dragon in the forest came out a little tight, so the float was very helpful there.)

I glued the page edges and, since they were a little curly from the watercolor and popup designs pulling at them, I weighted them with books to dry for a while.

I found an old book cover that would work (from a very outdated technology textbook). I sliced out the original pages, recovered the book with black paper, and glued in my new book pages on the front and back. It was a perfect fit!

I finished with time to spare, so I added a little watercolor and paper cut-out picture and frame to the front and back to add some flair. Please enjoy my terrible glue job. (I forgot to smooth the paper.)

I used a hair tie cut in half to hold the pages down for photographs (or display). I clipped two wedge-shaped bag clips to the underside of each tie to weigh down each side, and hold the book open at a slight angle.

This was a fun and challenging project to work on, and I’m so grateful to zaphodsgirl for all her effusive words and gifs of encouragement. You’re going to love this sweet story. Go read it now! Shadow & Storm on AO3.

(And if you feeling like tossing a comment my way, I’d love to hear from you here on Tumblr or on my art post on AO3.) 

[damienthepious]

:eyes: 7. “Please don’t go out alone.” for rad bouquet??

i am. so sorry. that this took as long as it did. I am just so sorry and i have no excuse. gosh i hope you enjoy it anyway. Uhhhhh happy Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday!!!

Turnabout

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday. Prompt Fill, Established Relationship, Protectiveness, Arguing (mild), Play Fighting, (sort of…. i have no idea how to tag this. as usual)

Summary: Rilla may not be a knight, may not be a magician slash architect, may not be a warrior, but she is more than competent in her own particular way, and certain people would do very well to remember that fact.

Notes: So this was uhhhh SUPPOSED to be for a hurt/comfort fic, which this didn’t exactly turn into. I like what it is, but it’s certainly not H/C, so, sorry about that part also???

~

Arum leaps from the portal with his knives out and swinging, and the three-foot centipede is in multiple wriggling segments on the ground before he even lands, panting and wild-eyed.

Rilla stands from her defensive crouch, dropping the packets of explosive powder back into the pocket of her skirt, loosening her grip on the short knife at her belt. “Oh,” she says, blinking and amused as Arum spins to face her. “Uh. Thanks, I guess?”

“Amaryllis, are you hurt? As soon as the Keep told me, I-”

“I’m fine,” Rilla says, her eyebrows dipping in confusion as Arum scuttles closer and sheathes two knives so he can touch her shoulder, tip her chin up and scan over her face as if looking for very minute cuts, for some obscured injury. “Arum, I’m fine. It didn’t even touch me.”

He exhales, dropping his hands away from her, and then he sheathes the other two knives and presses his lips tight together with a visibly awkward tilt. “Good,” he says, and then he gestures to the portal. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. Now, come back to the Keep and-”

“Uh, hang on a sec,” she says, not moving. “I’m not done out here.”

“What?” He scowls. “Of course you are, you were attacked. Clearly, it is not safe for you out here.”

“Arum.” Rilla feels the frustration bubbling up in her, the indignation, and she takes a deep breath to try to mollify it because- “It’s very sweet of you to worry about me, but I’m not just going to pack up and run off home the second things get a little bit dangerous. Besides,” she shrugs, gesturing to the remains of the bug creature, which has long since stopped wriggling, “it’s dealt with, right?”

“Amaryllis, if there was one such danger, it is impossible to tell what other threats may have slipped through the swamp’s defenses. I cannot guarantee your safety, and so I must ask, Amaryllis-” he grits his teeth, raises a hand towards her, “please don’t come out here alone. It is too dangerous for you.”

The indignation boils back up, and Rilla has to clench her jaw for a moment. “Okay, alright, you do know that I’m not actually some fragile little waif, right?” She raises an eyebrow, cocking her hip out and crossing her arms over her chest. “Just because Damien is the knight doesn’t mean that I’m incapable of taking care of myself.”

Arum shakes his head. “I didn’t say-”

“I need to go out into the jungle around my hut for research and supplies all the time,” Rilla says, “and honestly? At this point I bet that the Swamp of Titan’s Blooms is probably safer for me. At least out here I know that there are some protections, even if they aren’t infallible.”

Arum blinks, frowning. “Well- be that as it may, it is still not advisable for you to simply wander-”

“I wasn’t wandering, Arum, I was looking for samples of your modified water lilies. Like the ones right over there.” She points, but Arum does not look.

“If you were hurt out here in my swamp it would be my fault,” Arum snaps, his tail thrashing behind him like a loose ribbon in a windstorm. “I refuse to be complicit in your harm, even indirectly.”

“I can take care of myself,” Rilla says again, her tone tight and pointed.

“You are being unreasonable,” Arum growls, and then he reaches for her wrist. “Come, I have had enough of-”

Rilla could let him grab her, could take this argument back to the Keep and try to talk this thing through.

A demonstration feels like it will be a more effective way to prove her point, though. More satisfying, too.

Rilla tilts her body, taking a half step back so that when Arum reaches for her he misses, overextending his arm, and she pulls a small packet from her pocket and tears it open, closing her eyes just before the flash of bright light and the bloom of smoke explode out.

That particular sample is a joint project she and Marc have been back-and-forth working on, an explosive that prioritizes brightness over force, effective for blinding and stunning creatures and people, and the new smoke effect is helpful in extending the confusion as the target slowly regains their sight.

She doesn’t give Arum time for that, though.

He stumbles, a look of almost comical confusion on his face as he furiously blinks and rubs his hands over his eyes, and Amaryllis sweeps her leg in a maneuver she learned from Damien, knocking Arum’s own legs out from under him and sending him squawking to the dirt. Before he can deal with that she draws the knife at her belt and drops on top of him, sinking the blade into the ground just beside his head in an extravagantly pointed gesture.

Arum’s vision is still swimming as he hears the thunk of the weapon piercing the ground, as he feels familiar hands on his wrists, and he’s too stunned to fight against the pressure as they’re lifted above his head.

And then she is pinning him.

Amaryllis is pinning him, her hips pressing heavy and inarguable against his own, her forearms deliberately crossing over all four of his wrists, held over his head, and as his vision recovers she is grinning a predator’s grin down at him, her dark eyes full of gleeful fire.

“See?” she murmurs, her body hot, hot above his own. “Exactly like I tried to tell you. I can take care of myself just fine, even against a big, strong, dangerous monster, Arum.”

“I-” he pants out a breath, distracted by the heat of her body and the heat of her tone, shocked beyond coherency. “Amaryllis-”

“I’m not fragile. I’m not defenseless. And while I appreciate that you care about my safety, Arum, it’s not helpful for you to try to corral me away from anything that could possibly be threatening.” She presses his arms into the leaf-strewn dirt, leaning close enough to murmur directly, distractingly into his ear. “If I kept away from anyone dangerous, I would certainly never have any fun in the bedroom, now, would I?”

“Amaryllis,” Arum barks, frill flaring as his hands flex.

“Do you get my point now, Arum?” she asks, some of the fire retreating from her expression, her eyebrow raising in fond amusement.

“I…” he pants out a breath, twisting slightly beneath her, and her weight and the way she’s pressing on his wrists make any further movement difficult. “I believe- I believe you have made yourself clear, Amaryllis,” he hisses, impressed despite himself, embarrassed to be caught so entirely off guard.

She smiles. Her grip loosens immediately, and she leans down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Arum hisses again, and he drops two hands to grip her sides, the other two tangling in her hair, a small noise of surprised pleasure slipping from him.

“Sorry to knock you down like that,” she says against his lips, though she sounds more amused than apologetic, “but you weren’t really listening to what I was telling you, so.”

He leans up, nuzzling her face with his snout until she kisses him again. “I… I apologize as well. I should know better, I think,” he says with a wry laugh, “than to underestimate you, my fierce little flower.”

“You really should,” she says, sticking her nose in the air with mock smugness. She sits back, pulling him up with her and retrieving her knife to stick back in its sheath.

He watches her, intent, as she stands and readjusts her skirts, still smiling. “I once asked you, Amaryllis, how many hats it was that you wore. The longer I know you…” he stares up at her, tilting his head as he searches for the words. “The longer I know you, the more I understand how intensely correct Damien is, to call you a genius.”

“Oh, quit that,” she says with a laugh, leaning down to help lift Arum to his feet. “Not that I don’t appreciate the flattery-”

Once he is standing he pulls, gathering Amaryllis to his chest and holding her close. “I expect that I will spend the rest of my life trying to discover every nuance of your skill, you brilliant creature,” he purrs into her hair, delighted to feel her laughing against him. “I find that I am quite looking forward to it.”

“Yeah, well,” she says, cheeks flushed and grinning. “I’ll do my best to keep you on your toes.”

[hood-ex]

Fear Gas/Injury

Written for Dick and Dami Week 2019

Read on AO3

Dick tried to be prepared for most situations. He grew up as a circus performer where the term “be prepared” was pretty much instilled in him ever since his mom and dad had him hanging from trapeze bars. Then “be prepared” took on a whole new, more intense meaning when he was taken under Batman’s wing.

Be prepared to defend yourself. Be prepared to save a life. Be prepared to fight monsters. Be prepared to visit other planets. Be prepared to lead a team. Be prepared to take down other heroes. Be prepared to be tortured. Be prepared to die.

After years and years of putting all that into practice, Dick was pretty good about planning ahead and making contingencies plans for situations that went to shit. If he didn’t have a plan brewing in the back of his mind, he usually had someone like Babs that could help push him along in the right direction.

There were always outliers that could fuck up Dick’s plans no matter how much he prepared. Magic was close to the top of the list since it was so diverse and unpredictable. There was no telling what kind of spells or rituals magic users had hidden up their sleeves.

The not knowing aspect made Dick uneasy, especially when he was leading a team containing heroes with godlike superpowers. It only took one mind control spell to fuck up the city and kill a bunch of people in the process. That kind of horrific scenario was what lead Dick to learn as much as he could about magic from people like Zatanna, John Constantine, and Jason Blood.

Getting information from Zatanna and Jason had been easy enough. He’d worked with them enough times that there was mutual respect between them. John was another story. Prying information out of him had been as infuriating as trying to get Bruce to talk about his feelings. So if Dick had to bat his eyelashes at John and brush up against him a few times, well, that was neither here nor there. He ended up getting what he wanted, which was all that mattered.

The new knowledge of rituals, symbols, defenses, and spells made Dick feel marginally better about facing off against magic users.

Well, it did up until a second ago when a teen named Mischief cornered him on a fire escape.

She dug her freakishly long nails into the back of his neck and chanted a spell in Latin before he managed to toss her away from him. He could tell the spell had taken effect as soon as he fell to the stairs on his hands and knees, suddenly feeling extremely hot and shaky.

The more logical part of his brain was screaming at him to get away from the magic user as quickly as possible. He felt too exposed and vulnerable in his current state, and she could easily kill him if she wanted to. The other part of him wanted to just lay down and curl into a ball because his limbs, and what he could only assume was his organs, suddenly hurt so much he wanted to scream, or throw up, or do anything to make it stop.

His gloves and his suit felt too constraining. He ripped his gloves off and then squeezed his sweaty hands into fists. He put them up in front of his face, ready to defend himself even though his arms were shaking so bad, he’d be surprised if he could put any real force behind his punches.

Mischief laughed at his attempt and walked down a few steps. A warm breeze blew a few pieces of her blonde hair into her mouth. It made her spit and sputter. Dick would’ve cracked a joke about it if he wasn’t so focused on how his body was failing him.

Instead, he gritted out, “What did you do?”

A lot of pressure started to gather along Dick’s ribcage and spine. He arched his back, muscles pulled taught, and let out an embarrassing keening sound that was practically forced out of his mouth.

“A little birdie told me you fly with bats,” she said in a tone that sounded like a bad impersonation of Harley. “I thought it might be fun if you run with wolves instead. People are used to seeing bats in Bludhaven. But wolves? Not so much.”

Dick watched in horror as black fur started sprouting from his hands as if he was a damn Chia Pet. A tickle along his cheeks had him reaching up to touch his face, only to jerk back when he felt more soft fur there. Holy shit! He was actually turning into a fucking wolf. This was bad. This was so, so bad.

A hundred thoughts started running through his head at once. Was he going to survive the transformation or would his whole body break under the pressure? Was the human part of his brain going to switch off and leave him relying on animal instincts alone? How long was he going to be stuck as a wolf? Was it reversible?

Mischief shifted her weight from foot to foot and yawned.

“This was way less exciting than I thought it would be. So I’m gonna go now, but you have fun with that.” She motioned to the fur that was still spreading across Dick’s skin. “Hope they don’t lock you up in the zoo, or worse, shoot you on sight.”

She gave him a distracted wave, and after jogging down the rest of the stairs, she disappeared from the alley.

Dick tried to get up and follow after her because shit, she needed to undo this spell. He only managed to get a foot underneath him before a sudden burst of pain from his mouth made him double back over. He groaned and cradled his jaw. Okay. Screw that plan. He would just stay right where he was and try not to freak out over his canine teeth doubling in size.

Some part of him realized that he needed to take his suit off or else he’d be stuck inside of it as a wolf. Easier said than done when he was in massive amounts of pain.

Focus. Don’t forget what Bruce taught you. “Your mind is your greatest weapon.” Push past the pain and figure out a plan.

Dick managed to work out a few deep breaths even though he was panting from how much energy it was taking just to stay upright. He worked on undoing his boots. The shape of his feet and heels were already changing, which just made the whole process more difficult. After a few pathetic attempts, he managed to kick them off towards the side of the stairs.

He decided to take his comm out next because he didn’t want it getting stuck in his wolf ear. He wondered if Alfred had been trying to contact him. Since the batcomputer kept track of his vitals, surely it already alerted Alfred about his abnormal physical state. He could just imagine Alfred’s bewildered stare and downturned mouth as he tried to make sense of all the weird readings the Nightwing suit was relaying to him. To be on the safe side, Dick picked up his discarded glove and pressed the emergency button on the inside of it.

A shudder ran through his body. He hurried to pull off his mask and suit. His arms were so weak and shaky at that point, he was barely able to stretch the padded shirt over his head while simultaneously using his feet to kick off his tight pants. The fabric kept getting bunched up around his fur and Dick growled in frustration.

He was practically rocking on his elbows and knees by the time he got his limbs free. His briefs could stay on. The fabric wouldn’t constrain him too much when he was fully transformed, and if anything, it would be a major indicator to Bruce that he was the wolf.

Exhausted, he tried to settle down on his side to finish out the rest of the transformation. He froze when he felt his joints and bones starting to crack. His back arched even more and he let out the most pathetic sounding whine that tapered off into a howl. He clamped his mouth shut. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself with the sounds he was making.

A sensation came over his face that felt similar to a punch. He clenched his eyes closed, not wanting to deal with the fact that he suddenly had a snout and an elongated jaw.

The pain became so intense that he could hardly think.

“Bruce!” he tried to scream, only, instead of actual words, all that came out of his mouth was a high pitched bark. He whined and continued to writhe on the ground, nearly bashing his head against the edge of the stairs.

There was no telling how long it took for his body to twist and crack into place. It felt like he’d already spent a fucking eternity in hell by the time the shudders started to come less frequently. Was this how Gar felt the first time he transformed into an animal? Dick doubted it. Gar’s transition always looked smooth and painless. Dick never thought he’d be envious of that trait, but then again, he never thought he’d turn into a wolf either.

Slowly—oh so slowly—the intense pain started to fade away, leaving him sore and achy. He didn’t really want to acknowledge the fact that he now had a long tongue lolling out of his mouth, breaths coming out in steady pants. Right. Wolves had to pant to regulate their body temperatures. They didn’t sweat like humans. Great.

His lip curled above his teeth when he smelt an overwhelming amount of rotten trash, urine, vomit, and other disgusting fluids that were stained all over the alley. Now he understood why Ace and Titus insisted on smelling everything within a two-foot radius on walks. There was so much more to smell with a canine nose.

He was slightly horrified when he caught the scent of something that actually made him want to go find it and eat it. It was probably leftover food, and while his very human mind was revolted by the idea of eating any kind of food that was left in a dumpster, his new wolfy instincts didn’t seem to care so much about things like bacteria and parasites.

Unsanitary or not, his stomach rumbled hungrily. He usually ate a pretty decent meal after patrol, and since his body had just used enough energy to rearrange his entire skeletal system, he was pretty sure he could eat a buffet of food and still be hungry. Maybe he could put his “puppy eyes” to good use and get a hot dog from a nearby street vendor.

Focus, Grayson. You’re a wolf sitting in plain sight. Figure out how to work this body so you can get help.

Right. He could do that. He could make himself stand up and figure out how to walk like an animal even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

It took him more time than he’d like to admit just to stand up on all four legs. Four very furry legs. Wow, he had a lot of fur. From what he could tell, his fur was black all over, which was actually a relief because it probably helped him blend in with the shadows in the alley.

As sore as he was, he couldn’t help but turn his body in a circle in an attempt to look at his massive body and tail. He tried swishing his tail back and forth a few times, but it was awkwardly stuck in his briefs, and it stayed tucked tightly between his back legs. He was actually surprised his briefs were stretchy enough to partially fit over his giant wolf ass. Even though it felt like the world’s most uncomfortable diaper, he could deal with it for a little while.

Walking as a wolf actually wasn’t that difficult. It was essentially the same thing as crawling, just more fluid. Dick practiced walking up and down the stairs as soon as he felt confident enough. His legs shook from the effort and his paws felt overly sensitive against the hard metal. There was a brief moment where his brain got a little confused and he put the wrong legs down to take a step, but other than that, he had a pretty decent grasp of how to navigate on all fours.

He was busy using his mouth to gather all the pieces of his costume into a pile when he heard the familiar engine of the batmobile rumbling close by. Ears perked, he sat down and watched as the sleek, black vehicle turned into the alley, the headlights momentarily blinding him. He was pretty sure his tail would be wagging if it wasn’t jammed in his undies.

The headlights turned off and the door opened. Dick belatedly realized that he was able to see so much better in the dark. It was almost as if he could pretend he just had his night vision activated on his mask.

He was expecting Bruce to step out looking all frowny and worried—his usual MO whenever Dick asked for help. Instead, to Dick’s surprise, it was Damian that climbed out of the driver’s seat.

Dick had to stop himself from letting out a disappointed whine. As childish as it sounded, he wanted his dad. He wanted to pretend he was 8-years-old again and that Bruce would be there to give him a stiff, comforting hug to distract him from the pain.

If Damian was here by himself that meant Bruce was out of Gotham. The emergency alert Bruce should have received was probably redirected to the cave. Dick knew better than to assume Alfred had sent Damian to Bludhaven to check on him. Knowing Damian, the kid probably heard his distress signal and jumped into the nearest batmobile before Alfred had the chance to send someone else like Tim or Cass to his location.

Dick felt a surge of affection for the kid. They technically weren’t Batman and Robin anymore, but Damian still filled the role of his Robin. He always had Dick’s back when it mattered.

Even though Dick couldn’t see Damian’s eyes, he could tell Damian was staring straight at him. He seemed to be frozen to the spot, obviously not expecting to see a giant wolf in place of Dick. Hell, maybe Damian thought a wolf ate Dick. It wasn’t that crazy of an idea. Dick had once almost been killed by a lion and a killer whale. Being taken out by a wolf wasn’t that far-fetched of a scenario in their line of work.

Dick let his tongue loll out of his mouth, trying to look as non-aggressive as possible. When Damian still seemed unsure of whether Dick was going to attack him or not, Dick gave a little twirl so Damian could get a full view of the briefs he was wearing. The whites of Damian’s mask went wide as he looked down at the GPS device in his hand one more time. That was when it all seemed to click in Damian’s head. Brow creased, he took a few cautious steps closer to where Dick was sitting in the shadows.  

“Nightwing?” Damian called out hesitantly.

Dick let out a bark that hopefully sounded friendly enough. He picked his mask up in his mouth and trotted over to the car, just barely stopping himself from rubbing against Damian’s legs. He sniffed him instead. His costume smelt like a mixture of dryer sheets coupled with a smoky scent that Dick associated with Gotham air. Underneath that was another scent Dick had literally never smelled before in his life. It was kind of sour and tangy.

Hold on… was that Damian’s pheromones he was smelling?

He inhaled deeper and then sneezed as the smell tickled his nose. The scent briefly changed to something sweeter, but it was still tinged with sourness. Huh. Maybe the sour scent was fear and the sweeter scent was happiness? Amusement? Something like that. He would try to compartmentalize it all later.

Damian plucked the mask out of Dick’s mouth with a slightly shaking hand. Dick didn’t know whether Damian was still scared of him or if he was simply scared of what the mask implied about Dick’s wellbeing. It was probably a bit of both.

Damian looked from the mask to the briefs that were stretched over Dick’s furry ass. His mouth was set in a confused frown. It took him a few more seconds of staring before he reached his hand out and held it out towards Dick’s snout. Dick nosed at his glove for a second before pushing his head into Damian’s hand.

And just like that, the awkward tension between them was broken. Damian knelt down to Dick’s eye level and ran his hand over Dick’s head and neck with a look of wonder on his face. The aching in Dick’s body was briefly forgotten as he closed his eyes and leaned his body against Damian’s chest for support. Fuzzy tingles spread from his head to his shoulders as Damian’s fingers continued to run through his fur. It felt so nice that Dick wanted to fall asleep on the spot. After a few more pats and ear scratches, Damian cupped his hands on either side of Dick’s face.

“Richard?” Damian whispered close to Dick’s ear. “Are you actually a wolf or am I insane?”

A bark of excitement bubbled from the back of Dick’s throat. He nodded his head enthusiastically, crowding even closer to the point where he was practically sitting in Damian’s lap.

Damian almost smiled. Almost.

“Are you alright? Who did this to you?” Damian demanded, losing some of the softness in his tone.

Dick flattened his ears against his head and whined. He obviously couldn’t tell Damian what happened to him, but he could show him. He nosed at the mask that was still clutched in Damian’s hand.

Mouth set in a tight line, Damian nodded. “I’ll connect it to the Bluetooth in the batmobile while you gather the rest of your things.”

Dick gently clasped his teeth around Damian’s glove before Damian could stand. The briefs were really starting to get on his nerves and needed them off pronto. He tried to convey that to Damian by twisting his head to look back at his briefs multiple times.

Damian sighed so loudly that the air from his mouth blew Dick’s fur in different directions.

“Really? You managed to take off everything else except that.”

Damian clearly didn’t appreciate Dick’s well thought out idea to make himself identifiable as a human turned wolf. If it weren’t for the underwear, they’d probably still be stuck on opposite sides of the alley, locked in the longest staring contest of all time. Dick hoped his exasperation translated onto his wolf features. It probably didn’t based on the way Damian scowled while guiding Dick’s paws through the underwear leg holes.

“There,” Damian muttered once Dick was finally free. “Now let’s get out of here before someone sees you.”

Dick gave an awkward nod and trotted back to the stairs where his boots and clothes were. He couldn’t wait to get to the manor. He was going to wolf down whatever kind of food Alfred had lying around, and then he was going to curl up in bed and sleep this whole nightmare of a day away.

The aches and pains were really starting to kick in by the time he got himself and all his Nightwing gear settled in the passenger seat of the batmobile. It took him a minute to figure out how he was supposed to sit without falling off the seat. He ended up curling into a ball and then rested his front paws and head over the middle console. The strong current of air from the AC made his ears twitch.

The smell of the car was actually kind of comforting. There was a hint of Bruce’s aftershave as well as a muted copper scent. It smelt more like the cave than anything, but even that was ten times better than the literal vomit he’d been inhaling in the alley.  

Damian started the car and pulled on the road towards Gotham.

“NM37 is connected to Bluetooth,” the batmobile said suddenly, making Dick jump. “Would you like to play the last recording?”

“Yes, play the last recording,” Damian said.

The screen on the dash lit up and then the video started to play. Dick felt his heart start to race when Damian fast forwarded through the beginning of his patrol and resumed playing the video as soon as Mischief appeared. He didn’t want to hear the fear in his voice or the pathetic sounds he made as he transformed into a wolf. He was just glad there would be a limited view of the transformation as soon as they got to the point where Dick took his mask off.

“Mischief?” Damian muttered, gaze still transfixed to the screen. “I’m not familiar with her. Has she appeared in Bludhaven before?”

Dick shook his head.

“A little birdie told me you fly with bats.”

The “little birdie” line of audio caught Dick’s attention. It could just be wordplay, but there was a chance it meant she was working for someone. If she wasn’t working for someone then what were her motives for turning him into a wolf? Money? Power? Revenge?

Dick was so caught up trying to make connections between crimes in his head, he jerked back when he felt Damian’s tight grip on his fur. He couldn’t see Damian’s eyes since the kid still had his mask on, but he could smell the way Damian scent changed to something more bitter. Concerned, he barked and pressed his head into Damian’s hand, trying to gain his attention. It was his only way of asking what was wrong in this stupid wolf body.

He was pretty sure he got his answer when he heard the grunts and whimpers coming from the audio. If he were human, he would’ve been blushing in shame and embarrassment. It sounded like he was dying.

After what felt like hours but was only minutes, the horrible sounds faded into pants.

“Stop the recording,” Damian said suddenly, his loud tone hurting Dick’s ears.

The audio cut off. Damian’s harsh breathing and the purr of the engine filled its absence.

Damian’s tight grip on Dick’s fur was starting to become painful. Dick gently cupped his teeth around Damian’s wrist and applied light pressure, basically the only way he could convey “let go.”

Damian pulled his hand back as if he’d been zapped.

“I apologize,” Damian said immediately, clenching his hands into fists. “That woman hurt you and I...” he cleared his throat. More softly, he added, “That was hard for me to watch.”

Dick watched the conflicted expression on Damian’s face morph into something more sad and timid. It was no secret that Damian was as stubborn about showing his vulnerable side as he was stubborn about everything else in life. Dick had seen that side of Damian more than a few times now. For some reason none of those times made Dick feel as worse as he did right then.

He didn’t really think about what he was doing until he leaned into Damian’s space and licked the side of his face from his jaw to his temple. He just knew he wanted that terribly sad look on Damian’s face to go away.

“Richard!” Damian shrieked. He tried wiping away the spit with the side of his hand. “That’s disgusting! Even Titus has better manners than you!”

Dick huffed and rolled his eyes. He’d seen Titus do the same thing hundreds of times, and Titus licked his balls every day. Now that was something to scream about.

Damian grumbled some more about it before they both settled back down. Dick looked out the window and realized they were only a mile or two away from the manor. He rested his head on his paws and sighed, suddenly exhausted. Any adrenaline he had before was completely gone now. The pain was still radiating through every part of him, and he knew he’d probably be too sore to even move tomorrow. He hoped Alfred could pump some drugs into his system to help with that.

It was as if Damian could somehow sense his pain when he suddenly said, “Don’t worry. I’ll find the harlot that did this to you and I’ll make her change you back.”

Dick gave him his own wolfy version of a smile and tried not to imagine how painful turning back was going to be.  

He barely even twitched when he felt Damian’s fingers slowly run through the fur on his head. He closed his eyes so he could focus on the pleasant tingles that raced from his head to his shoulders.

“Tt. You’re already spoiled,” Damian said when he noticed Dick’s tail wagging.

Dick ignored him and sighed contently, stretching his neck out to show Damian where he wanted to be scratched. The petting and scratching was something he could get used to.

Maybe there were positives to being a wolf after all.

[pitterpatterpot]

Lion’s Pride: Chapter 11

- Two stories: one where Aedion is turned into a wolf pup, the other a lion cub.

14.

It started as a joke. A joke that, admittedly, brought a small smile on Gavriel’s face, even as Aedion scowled. Yet it has continued on, Lysandra, Aelin, Fenrys and Kyllian using the nickname as a jab. Something to quip before they snicker.

“Hey, cub!”

“Kyllian,” Aedion sucks in a deep breath, “I swear to the gods, if you keep this up you will regret it.”

“Wow,” The commander’s brows flick up, “Gavriel must be rubbing off on you if you bother with threats instead of jumping to the punch.”

“You annoy me,” Aedion deadpans, “so, so much. More than Lysandra at the moment.”

“Speaking of Lysandra,” Kyllian grins, “when are the three of us going to get together?”

“In your dreams.”

“Oh, we do, but real life would be so much more satisfying.”

“Maybe when you cease to be such a shameless flirt,” Aedion rolls his eyes, opening the door to his room. “You and Lysandra are just as bad as each other.”

“And by bad I’ll assume you mean fantastic, seeing as how that’s what we both are,” Kyllian smirks, leaning against his doorframe. “You going out tonight?”

“No, I’m staying in,” Aedion collapses onto the edge of his bed. “For some reason I’m more tired than usual.”

“Good,” Kyllian stands straight, ready to move away. “You look like shit.”

“I remember you being a lot nicer when I was younger.”

“I just give what I get.”

“You wish,” Aedion rolls his eyes. “Now get out of here before Lysandra comes around and you two get started again. I don’t need you telling her anymore stories about my epic failures.”

“Hey, I say nice stuff too,” Kyllian grins, turning around. “Night, Aedion!”

“Night.”

~~~

“Aedion,” Lysandra keeps her eyes screwed shut against the morning sun. “Aedion, close the curtains.”

Receiving no reply, she buries her head further into the pillow, burrowing under the soft covers. She movies her leg as she shifts positions, feeling nothing but smooth, silky fabric and a brush of fur as-

Fur.

Eyes opening, Lysandra whips around, and stares.

~~~

“Gavriel!”

The Lion barely hesitated at the cry of Lysandra’s voice, flinging his bedroom door open with a weapon ready in hand and more than prepared to defend and help her if necessary.

“It’s Aedion,” she gasps, her night gown slipping off one shoulder and hair wild.

“What’s happened?” Gavriel scans her for injuries.

“He shifted,” Lysandra breathes, green eyes bright with panic. “Into an animal form.”

Gavriel drops his sword.

~~~ Wolf ~~~

Gavriel stares at the small white and grey wolf curled up on the bed, it’s snout tucked under one paw. At least they were right about Aedion’s animal form being young the first time he shifts. He’s definitely a wolf pup. A wolf pup. One that’s curled into a ball with his tail wrapped around him as he sleeps, unaware of his new form.

Of course, world pups aren’t by any stretch small, not as small as lion cubs which stay smaller younger. No, Aedion’s wolf form is only slightly smaller then Fleetfoot. Even if he’s less then half of Fenrys’ size when the male shifts.

Or used to shift, at least.

Gavriel slowly backs out of the room with Lysandra, where they both wait in silence for a moment before talking.

“So,” Lysandra starts slowly, her eyes sliding to Gavriel, “Do we wake him?”

The Lion hesitates. “It makes sense that he would shift while sleeping, seeing as how that’s when his mind and body would relax enough to drop he subconscious fear.”

“Right,” Lysandra nods. “Of course. But what do we do now?”

Gavriel has an answer, he really did, but the sudden sound of growling and scrambling draws his attention. He and Lysandra open the door, the shifter holding back a laugh at the young wolf that’s biting at the blankets it’s tangled in. Gavriel himself simply walks over and calmly removes the blankets.

Dropping to the floor, Aedion rises to his new four feet, shaking his head.

And he blinks at them with his Ashryver eyes.

“I’m telling Aelin!” Lysandra blurts.

It takes five minutes. Five minutes for Aelin, Rowan, Fenrys and Vaughan to all gather in Aedion and Lysandra’s room. If only Elide and Lorcan were present. Aedion knows that his kind cousin would never laugh at such a thing.

Unlike his devil cousin, who has literally collapsed to her knees, wheezing in glee.

“You actually shifted,” Aelin gasps, staring at her cousin. “But into a wolf pup.”

“We knew his new form would be young,” Vaughan coughs, suspiciously turning away with a hand over his mouth.

Rowan, the bastard, right out bellows.

At least Lysandra and Gavriel are acting appropriately and taking the situation seriously.

“Did you mean to shift?” Lysandra asks seriously, sitting on the floor next to him.

The only way he can answer ‘no’ is by shaking his head. Understanding, Lysandra nods, standing once again.

“Can you shift back?” Gavriel asks, still crouched down to his level.

Aedion’s look says enough.

“I think I need to lie down,” Aelin wheezes, one hand grasping Rowan’s arm.

Annoyed, Aedion growls and barks. She just starts laughing once again.

Yet Fenrys, for some reason, has stopped laughing at Aedion, and is examining him as if he can clearly see the rising panic. The way the inability to speak, to move properly, to be human is starting to breed fear inside of Aedion.

“You won’t be in this form forever,” Fenrys stares at Aedion.

Jerking, Aedion examines him. An answer to the question he said out loud, yet was so sure no one could understand.

“Really, you won’t,” Fenrys’ brows draw together in concern.

“You can understand him?” Lysandra asks, turning to the fae.

“He’s a wolf,” Fenrys grins. “Of course I can understand him.”

Aedion whines low in his throat.

“Just try imagining your human form,” Fenrys kneels down, tapping his fingers on the ground. “Focus on the feeling in the middle of your core, and try to pull that forward.”

They watch as Aedion closes his eyes, waiting for a minute, then two, then three…

Only for Aedion to whine again.

“Yeah,” Fenrys stands. “He has no idea how to shift.”

“Right,” Gavriel remains steady, arms crossed, yet there’s a small edge of panic to his voice. “So what do we do now?”

There’s chatter, talk, people turning to each other for ideas. Yet Fenrys just keeps looking at Aedion, who tilts his head with a small, inquisitive sound. Fenrys tilts his head back, dark eyes somehow shadowed.

Gavriel catches the look. “Fenrys. Fenrys, you don’t have to-“

But there’s a flash.

And suddenly, Aedion is looking up at the giant white wolf looking down at him.

~~~
 “Try to shift back,” Fenrys says, for the umpteenth time in the last hour.

Aedion, still shocked by how clear communication is as wolves when over half of it is body movement, growls. “I’ve tried everything you’ve said.”

“Right,” Fenrys rests his head on his front two paws, before perking back up again. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Aedion slinks after him, watching the hallways. “Is it back to Kyllian? He already made himself sick from laughing, and I’m pretty sure he and Aelin are swapping jokes right now.”

“No, to the gardens. There’s no point being a wolf if you can’t enjoy it or just spend the entire time in your room.”

Aedion follows him down the hall and stairwells, glad that little people are around to notice them go. Either way, Fenrys sticks close to his side, his large form nearly blocking Aedion completely.

Being inside the room was one thing.

Being outside is another.

It’s brighter, louder, as if everything has been put into clear focus. The smells and sights and sounds are all clearer. And when Fenrys bolts, running down the garden path and into the bush, Aedion has no choice but to follow him. Maybe his smaller form isn’t as fast as a grown wolves would be, but it’s still exhilarating. Exhilarating to run while being so aware of every single little thing around him. Like Gavriel quietly trailing them in his lion form. His father’s scent and sounds are so much clearer as he creeps through the greenery, keeping a distance yet watching.

“Don’t mind him,” Fenrys nudges Aedion’s shoulder with his nose, nearly tipping the smaller wolf over. “He’s just worried.”

“That?”

“That your magic might build up until you explode.”

Aedion would have heard his father pause a step if he didn’t whip around to stare at Fenrys. “That could happen?”

“No. Well, it’s unlikely with the fact that your fae side seems more focused on physical attributes instead of magical.”

“Perfect,” Aedion growls, stalking ahead to smell at the plants.

“I am kidding though, you should be fine,” Fenrys follows after him, gently nudging him towards one of the gardens many fountains. “Drink. I figured that you probably just need to exercise your wolf form a bit. No better way than exploring.”

Aedion swears he hears his father huff.

“Right,” Aedion looks around the garden, taking it in from a new perspective. “So what now?”

“Bored already?” Fenrys walks off, Aedion following. “I thought a race would be fun.”

“A-“

Before Aedion can finish, Fenrys fires off without a moments hesitation. Quick to move, Aedion follows, his thoughts blanking out of his head as his instincts take over. They push him to run, to jump, to weave between the plants and hedges to catch the white bolt that is Fenrys. He watches as the older wolf leaps over the fountain and picks up speed himself, launching over the lip-

And having something grab him by the scruff right before he lands in the water.

Fenrys walks back over as Gavriel sets Aedion on his feet, careful of his teeth against his son’s fur. Or drops him with the way Aedion twists in his grip.

“You were going to fall in,” Fenrys says, his amusement evident in his wagging tail and energetic movements. “Jump onto the ledge then propel yourself from that next time until you learn to jump further.”

“Maybe you should do some training,” Gavriel says one he shifts so he may be understood by the two wolves. “You should learn how to manoeuvre in this form.”

“There’s plenty of time for that later,” Fenrys nudges Aedion away. “Come on, I’ll show you how to climb things best. Like trees.”

“Maybe I should come,” Gavriel says worriedly.

“If we need you we’ll call you!” Fenrys whines behind him, more than aware the fae can’t understand him, yet positive he’ll understand the tone.

~~~

“Maybe we shouldn’t have left Gavriel like that,” Aedion worries as he places his two front paws on a tree, looking up at the branches then back to Fenrys.

“He’s fine,” Fenrys assures him. “Besides, he has no idea how wolves work. Yeah we don’t jump as far as lions, but our initial stamina in running is greater.”

“Why are you teaching me all of this?” Aedion asks, stepping back from the tree.

“Because you’re my friends son,” Fenrys explains as he examines the tree himself. “And if I have to shift for any reason I’d rather it be to teach you about being a wolf. If you get the hang of it then I can show you how to hunt, but Gavriel will definitely come along for that. Now come on, this seems like a good tree.”

Creeping back, Aedion sinks low to the ground. He examines the tree, then takes off. He scrambles wildly for purchase, using his back legs to push himself up as his claws sink into the soft flesh of the trunk. He manages to reach the first branch, dropping himself over it as his front paws desperately scramble to hold on. He wraps his jaws around a twig, holding on to that with his front paws hooking over the branch as his lower body hangs, swaying thanks to the momentum.

“Alright,” strain is evident in Fenrys’ voice. “That... that was a good first try. Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

It’s good that wolves communicate so much with body language, otherwise Aedion wouldn’t be able to talk around the twig in his mouth. Although, it’s not like he has much space to move either.

“Alright, don’t worry,” Fenrys shifts back into his human form, his held out arms a clear sign of his apprehension. “Just try to get purchase with your back legs.”

Aedion tried to do as he says, curling his body up to fix his back legs on the branch. As soon as he does so he slowly pushes himself up until he’s sitting comfortable in the fork of the tree.

“Thank gods,” Fenrys sags, running a hand through his hair. “Your father would kill me if you dropped from that height.”

“Yes, I would!” Gavriel walks forward in his human form, staring up at Aedion in the tree.

“Where did you come from?” Fenrys blinks at Gavriel. “I mean, I knew you’d be worried, but following us? Again?”

“He’s stuck in a tree!”

“He’s fine!”

“What if he fell and hit his head on one of the rocks?”

“He hasn’t! Just trust me on this, Gavriel. I know how wolves work.”

“I know you do. I’m sorry, I just-“

Aedion tunes them out, testing the strength of a tree branch before carefully walking across it, wobbling a few times before finding balance. He travels the length of it, pausing tentatively at the end before lithely jumping onto the next tree. He works his way from branch to branch as the two fae argue behind him until he’s behind his father.

There’s no way Fenrys can’t see him, yet the male simply argues louder, causing Gavriel to shake his head and rub at his face. Almost like a distraction. Aedion sees the opening the fae has given him, and bunches his haunches.

He pounces down from the branch, landing on his father’s back, the claws on his front paws digging into the leather of his vest on the shoulders so he can hang on.

Gavriel doesn’t move an inch.

“Nice try,” Gavriel says dryly, turning his head slightly to smile at Aedion, eyes alight with indescribable joy. “You’ll have to be more quiet on the branches if you want to surprise me.”

“Good try, boyo,” Fenrys grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you get him next time.”

Gavriel reaches around, grabbing Aedion and dropping him to his feat, who shakes to settle his fur back in place.

“It’s nearly time for dinner,” Gavriel kneels to run a rough, scared hand over Aedion’s head, smoothing over the fur with surprising softness. “Don’t worry, we’re all eating in a private room.”

Aedion lifts a paw to scratch at his face, surprised by the pat, ears flicking as he stares up at his father.

“Come on, boyo,” Fenrys says, strolling past Gavriel. “Time to face the music as an adorable little puppy.”

Aedion may ‘accidentally’ trip him into a bush.

~~~

“What’s wrong? Can’t reach your food?” Fenrys asks, holding the plate above a growling Aedion’s head.

“Fenrys!” Gavriel snaps, snatching the plate from the blondes hands.

“He tripped me into a bush!” Fenrys scowls. “If I did that to any of you while in wolf form you’d all kill me.”

“Was it on purpose?” Gavriel asks Aedion, who sits in his wolf form on a chair, head resting on the table.

Aedion whines low, staring up at his father. He blinks a few times for extra measure. The Lion examines him, his face strangely blank as he takes in Aedion, who reaches forward to give his father’s hand, the one on the table, a tiny lick.

Gavriel places the plate back in front of his son.

“He has you all fooled!”

“You had no problem joining in with that foolery an hour ago,” Rowan points out as he eats his own meal.

Aedion grunts in agreement, chewing on a chicken leg, holding it down with one paw as he gnaws. Lysandra watches in her snow leopard form, chewing her own meat. She chose to do so as to not make Aedion feel excluded, even if communication between them in different animal forms is a little rough.

“Two animals eating at the table, wonderful,” Aelin rolls her eyes.

Rowan gives a pointed look towards Fleetfoot, who eats from Aelin’s hand.

“Don’t you dare judge our first child,” Aelin scowls, wrapping her arms around Fleetfoot’s neck, who stares up at the queen adoringly as she pants.

Grumbling, Rowan goes back to picking at his food.

It’s bad enough that Fleetfoot’s been treating Aedion like her own pup since he shifted. Even now she trots towards his chair to nose and sniff at him, whining as she does so. Aedion presses himself against the back of the chair, knowing there’s no escape.

“Why don’t you play with her?” Aelin suggests.

Aedion’s dry look says it all.

“Fine,” Aelin scowls. “I guess that means you don’t want to play fetch either, huh?”

A growl joins the look.

~~~

The staircases never seemed so large until Aedion had to bound up them with four legs. It’s difficult to place each leg in the right place, occasionally underestimating whether or not a paw is too close to a ledge. He nearly reaches the top, scrambling upwards, until he rips back and- And Vaughan grabs him, two hands around his middle, and sets him on the ground.

“Please be careful,” the usually stoic fae mutters, looking at Aedion with concern. “Gavriel would be crushed if anything happened to you.”

With that he walks off, leaving Aedion to stare after him. He’s never talked much to the most silent member of the cadre, Vaughan preferring to either keep to himself or the mountains. But suddenly the reason every path is clear, the way there’s never a person in his path, becomes clear. Silent aid is better than none, after all.

~~~

Lysandra growls lowly as she jumps onto the bed, pacing around before settling down. Apparently, if Aedion has to sleep in an animal form then she’s more than willing to join him. According to her logic it’ll be more comfortable to deal with the fur if she has a coat herself. It doesn’t hurt that she can curl her snow leopard body around his smaller wolf one anyway.

“Thank you,” Aedion nuzzles her neck.

Purring, she rubs her muzzle against him, as she first did on the ship and many other occasions. They settle down to sleep, content.

~~~

Blinking his eyes open, Aedion groans at the ache that lines his body and head. It settles deep in his bones in such a way that only occurs after long hours of training. Yet somehow he feels refreshed, lighter, as if some coiled muscle inside of him he didn’t know was there has been released. Head foggy, he tries to remember the events of the past day, everything feeling as though he had been drunk, memories arriving in small pieces. He shifts slightly, starting to focus on the room and his position. It’s almost as if every muscle has been stretched and knotted then cooled, causing it to be fixed into place. He shifts slightly, starting to focus on the room and his position. His position where he’s being spooned by a ghost leopard while in his human form.

Well.

A few years ago he would have screamed and assumed death, so, really, this is an improvement. Even if he may have to seriously consider his strange new attraction to Lysandra while she’s wearing deadly forms.

He recognises the rumble against his back, the giant paws hanging over his side. He doesn’t bother turning around, simply closing his eyes once again, glad for the fur battling against the every present chill in the air.

He recognises the rumble against his back, the giant paws hanging over his side. He doesn’t bother turning around, simply closing his eyes once again, glad for the fur battling against the every present chill in the air. It lasts a little longer even when Lysandra shifts back into her human form, her own skin now pressing against his as she kisses his shoulder.

“Aedion?” She whispers in his ear.

Smiling, he turns his head. “Yes?”

“Next time you turn into a wolf cub, I’m pretty sure Fleetfoot called dibs on playing with you.”

“…wait, what?”

~~~ Lion ~~~

Gavriel stares at the small golden lion cub curled up on the bed in a small ball, obviously trying to huddle for warmth. At least they were right about Aedion’s animal form being young the first time he shifts. He’s definitely a lion cub. One that’s curled into a soft, golden ball as he sleeps, unaware of his new form.

Of course he’s small. All lion cubs are small, and they knew Aedion’s animal form would be young should he ever shift. But this, a small cub that opens his mouth to yawn and lick at his mouth before settling again, is too far from the norm. Especially once Aedion does the animalistic act of rubbing his head in the sheets and rolling around to get comfy.

Gavriel slowly backs out of the room with Lysandra, where they both wait in silence for a moment before talking.

“So,” Lysandra starts slowly, her eyes sliding to Gavriel, “Do we wake him?”

The Lion hesitates. “It makes sense that he would shift while sleeping, seeing as how that’s when his mind and body would relax enough to drop he subconscious fear.”

“Right,” Lysandra nods. “Of course. But what do we do now?”

Gavriel has an answer, he really did, but the sudden sound of growling and scrambling draws his attention. He and Lysandra open the door, the shifter holding back a laugh at the young lion that’s biting at the blankets he’s tangled in. Gavriel himself simply walks over and calmly removes the blankets.

Dropping to the floor, Aedion rises to his new four feet, shaking his head.

And he blinks at them with his Ashryver eyes.

“I’m telling Aelin!” Lysandra blurts.

It takes five minutes. Five minutes for Aelin, Rowan, Fenrys and Vaughan to all gather in Aedion and Lysandra’s room. If only Elide and Lorcan were present. Aedion knows that his kind cousin would never laugh at such a thing.

Unlike his devil cousin, who has literally collapsed to her knees, wheezing in glee.

“You actually shifted,” Aelin gasps, staring at her cousin. “But into a lion’s cub. A literal, fucking lion’s cub. You look so soft and fluffy.”

“We knew his new form would be young,” Vaughan coughs, suspiciously turning away with a hand over his mouth.

Rowan, the bastard, right out bellows.

At least Lysandra and Gavriel are acting appropriately and taking the situation seriously.

“Did you mean to shift?” Lysandra asks seriously, sitting on the floor next to him.

The only way he can answer ‘no’ is by shaking his head. Understanding, Lysandra nods, standing once again.

“Can you shift back?” Gavriel asks, still crouched down to his level.

Aedion’s look says enough. It doesn’t matter if Gavriel can understand him while he’s in a lion form, the expression says it all.

“I think I need to lie down,” Aelin wheezes, one hand grasping Rowan’s arm.

Annoyed, Aedion gives a small growl then roar. She just starts laughing once again, Gavriel himself having to fight the smile at the small imitation of his own roar. Yet Gavriel can clearly see the rising panic in his son, form the way his tail flickers to the way his eyes dart. The way the inability to speak, to move properly, to be human is starting to breed fear inside of Aedion.

“Aedion, you’re alright,” Gavriel soothes, kneeling down, lifting one hand out to his son. “You won’t be stuck like this forever.”

Jerking, Aedion examines him, growling low in his throat.

“No, this isn’t some kind of trick.”

“You can understand him?” Lysandra asks, turning to Gavriel.

“He’s a lion now,” Fenrys grins, hands tucked behind his head. “Of course Gavriel can. We can all understand fae who turn into the same animal as us.”

Aedion whines low in his throat.

“Just picture your human form,” Gavriel suggests, keeping his voice at a soothing tone. “try to bring that image forwards in your mind.”

They watch as Aedion closes his eyes, waiting for a minute, then two, then three…

Only for Aedion to whine again.

“Yeah,” Fenrys sits on the bed, grinning in amusement at Gavriel’s defeated slump. “He has no idea how to shift.”

“Right,” Gavriel remains steady, arms crossed, yet there’s a small edge of panic to his voice. “Of course he doesn’t. We may just have to wait until his body is ready to shift back.” 
“And risk someone stepping on him?” Aelin reaches out to her cousin, only to jerk her hand back as he nips at her. “Gods, fine, I won’t pick you up. But he is smaller now, and much easier of a target-“

But there’s a flash cutting off her words.  

And suddenly, Aedion is looking up at the powerful, gold lion looking down at him.

“Let’s go outside,” Gavriel suggests right away, climbing to his massive paws, his voice more of a deeper growl in his lion form. “To the gardens so you can learn about your new form.”

Aedion slinks after him, watching the hallways. “Is that a good idea?”

“I’d feel better if you had at least some idea of how to defend yourself in this form.”

Aedion follows him down the hall and stairwells, glad that little people are around to notice them go. Gavriel sticks close to his son’s side, taking slow strides so that he won’t fall behind. The stairs, however, come to be an issue with how short lion cub legs can be.

“Damn it,” Aedion sniffs the edge of the top step, inching forward. “Why are lion cubs so small?”

“After their first year they grow faster,” Gavriel says absentmindedly, ears flicking as he looks out the window for a moment. “Although since you’re fae your form probably won’t stay this small for so- Aedion!”

With both his front paws slipping off the step Aedion goes rolling down the stairs, flopping of the first five before clawing for purchase. He lays across the step, chest heaving at felt like a long fall in such a form.

“Gods,” Gavriel slinks down the stairs, his massive form moving to lift Aedion by the scruff with his mouth, a low growl showing his concern.

Hanging limply from his father’s mouth, Aedion allows Gavriel to carry him down the rest of the stairs, shaking his body once he’s finally back on his own feet. It’s strange to be in a form so small, with such a soft coat that has enough excess for him to be lifted in such a way. His fur isn’t the same golden sheen as his father’s, instead a lighter colour with darker patterns of spots over him.

“Please be careful,” Gavriel whines lowly, nudging Aedion towards the door.

Being inside the room was one thing.

Being outside is another.

It’s brighter, louder, as if everything has been put into clear focus. The smells and sights and sounds are all clearer. Grass feels amazing as Gavriel leads him to a secluded corner in the garden, Aedion sniffing at the flowers and greenery as they go along.

“Your senses will be sharper,” Gavriel settles down, watching Aedion search the small space. “You’ll be able to see, hear, taste, feel and smell on a new range.”

“Alright,” Aedion sits be his father, ignoring the fact that he comes up to the lion’s shoulder while they’re both sitting. “What first?”

“I’ll go into the garden,” Gavriel stands, shaking his coat, “and when I roar you’ll have to come find me.”

“Is that to learn how to hunt?” Aedion scratches at an ear. “Wouldn’t it be better to do that with actual prey?”

“At the moment a very dedicated pigeon could peck your eyes out if it wanted to. Now, wait here. And if anything happens then don’t hesitate to roar.”

“Right.”

Gavriel dives into the greenery, golden coat sliding over his muscles and shinning in the morning sun. As Aedion waits, he creeps under hedges, poking at the small insects that are much easier to notice, rolling onto his back to look up at the leaves above his head. Finally, a large roar pierces through the calmness of the day, causing Aedion to roll out from under the bush and prick his ears.

It sounded far away, the roar reaching across a distance, echoing through the garden. Aedion can hear everything in the gardens, including the humans, pause for a brief moment at the powerful declaration before continuing again.

Aedion shoots off in the direction the sound came from, pausing occasionally to crawl under hedges and search for the direction of the sound. Gavriel releases a second roar, drawing Aedion closer to the centre of the garden. He finally peers at his father from where he crouches behind a bush, before leaping forward and taking his shoulder, biting at it as his instincts demand.

Gavriel gives a low roar at the contact, collapsing dramatically to the side as Aedion crawls over him and sniffs at him, proud of his attack.

“What the fuck is happening?” Aelin murmurs from where she watches from a window with Rowan. “What am I looking at?”

“Some lions pretend to be hurt by the attacks of their young to encourage them.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Don’t tell Aedion that.”

Gavriel rolls to lay properly on his stomach, Aedion tumbling off his side, still nipping at him as Gavriel takes him once again by the scruff to drag Aedion around to face him. The younger mountain lion allowed his father to do so before twisting out of his grip.

“That was good,” Gavriel nudges a leaf off Aedion’s back, licking at the spot tentatively, barely thinking anything of it as his instincts cause the action.

“Why don’t you have a mane?” Aedion asks, not fully concentrating as he twists his neck around to try to see the spot his father nudged.

“Because I’m a mountain lion,” Gavriel nudges Aedion with his paw, playfully pushing him onto his back, keeping his son down with a paw against his fuzzy stomach. “So are you; we don’t have manes.”

“What can we do then?” Aedion squirms out from under his father’s paw, rolling upright once again. 
 “We- why are you covered in dirt?”

“I was rolling around under a bush.”

“Why were you-“

“I’m excited, let me have this. It’s my first day off in a month and I had a shitty childhood.”

“I- alright, we can talk about that later,” Gavriel huffs, lowering his head to rest on his two front paws. “We can leap up to four meters and as far as twelve meters.”

“Do mountain lions travel in packs?” Aedion finally asks, his tail twitching in the air behind him.

Gavriel considers for a moment. “They have prides. Not as large as other kinds of lion’s tend to have; mountain lion’s stick to closer family members. Please just remember that we aren’t actual lions, but rather that we’re fae that have shifted. Personality wise we’re not like them; at most our physical attributes in these forms match there’s.”

“I know,” Aedion responds dryly. “So would I be able to jump over the fountain there?”

“Do not jump over the fountain you are only a cub,” Gavriel stresses the point, sagging with a sigh. “You can’t jump that far yet. You’re small, Aedion.”

“What can I do?”

“Eat, rest, learn how to hunt and grow.”

“And tracking down you from a roar is learning how to hunt?” If Aedion could raise his brow, he would.

“Yes,” Gavriel settles down once again. “You’re young in this form. Be glad, most baby mountain lions are blind, but you seem to be just above that age.”

“Why isn’t my coat like yours?” Aedion swipes absently at his tail.

“Camouflage,” Gavriel explains. “As young cubs get older their blue eyes turn tawny, and they loose the spots on their coats which become more golden.”

“Will my eyes change?”

The question is quiet. Quiet, because of what it would signify losing. To lose the Ashryver eyes would be losing one of Aedion’s greatest connections to his mother, to Aelin, to his family across the sea. It would mean the landless prince losing the greatest sign he has that he belongs in the royal house at all.

“No,” Gavriel gently nudges Aedion with his muzzle, licking at dirt just below his ear. “I was born with the tawny eyes that all mountain lion’s have. You can usually tell if an animal is fae or not by looking at the eyes; the eyes never change, no matter what form is taken. It just so happens that mountain lion cubs are born with blue eyes that turn gold, so people are more likely to mistake you for an actual cub. Once your form ages and your eyes stay the same it’ll be apparent that you’re fae.”

Aedion can’t help but think back to Lysandra, to her green eyes that stay with every form she takes unless the shifter puts conscious thought into changing them. It makes sense, in a way, with the saying that eyes are the window to the soul.

At least he won’t lose on of his only connections left to his mother.

Shaking off the somber feeling, Aedion instead chooses to focus on the long grass surrounding them, rolling in a long patch for a moment to rub the dirt off his fur. From where he lays Gavriel watches, amused, happy enough to rest in the sun. Once done, Aedion pads over to his father, surprising Gavriel by laying against his side and closing his eyes, he too enjoying the warmth of the sun.

A few hours later, after they both wake, Gavriel opens his maw to yawn, Aedion copying the motion, only considerably less terrifying as he does so. Hearing his son’s stomach growl, along with his own, gavriel realises for the first time how little they’ve both eaten.

“We need to eat in these forms,” Gavriel heaves to his feet, lowering his head to nudge Aedion towards the exit. “Dinner will start soon, and your body will need more food to compensate for shifting.”

Growling slightly, Aedion walks back to the gardens exits, Gavriel prowling by his side.

~~~

Aedion screeches, growls and yips as he twists in Gavriel’s hands, his father holding him around the middle with his bottom half hanging. Gavriel holds Aedion away from his body as his son tries to rotate his head to bite at Gavriel’s hands, mouth opening wide and closing again and again as he makes sounds of protest.

“I’m sorry, but it would take forever if you tried to climb up the stairs!” Gavriel winces as Aedion’s little paws bat at his hands, his claws not long enough yet to do any real damage. “Language! I had to shift back to carry you!”

When they finally reach the top Gavriel places Aedion down, watching his son as he shoots down the hall and into the dining room. He hears everyone speak from the other side of it, exclamations and laughs. Sighing, but shaking his head fondly, Gavriel stands and brushes off his clothes. Vaughan passes him on the stairs, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Thank you for your help.”

Pausing, Vaughan turns around to look at him, before turning back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Raising his brow, Gavriel decides to make no comment on the fact that the halls have been suspiciously empty, both of people and dangerous items. Only that when Gavriel walks through them later he finds that everything has been placed back, only the routes he takes with Aedion being cleared. Almost as if someone has been keeping an eye out and removing all threats.

“Right,” Gavriel represses a smile, following him into the dinning room. “Of course.”

And walks right in on his son standing on a chair, growling up at a Fenrys, who holds Aedion’s plate above his head.

“What’s wrong? Can’t reach your food?” Fenrys asks, holding the plate above a growling Aedion’s head.

“Fenrys!” Gavriel snaps, snatching the plate from the blondes hands.

“He tripped me when he ran in!” Fenrys scowls. “If I did that by accident while in wolf form you’d all kill me.”

“Was it on purpose?” Gavriel asks Aedion, who sits comfortable on the chair, head resting on the table.

Aedion whines low, staring up at his father. He blinks a few times for extra measure. The Lion examines him, his face strangely blank as he takes in Aedion, who reaches forward to give his father’s hand, the one on the table, a tiny lick, nibbling slightly and pawing at the hand. Gavriel feels his heart stutter to a stop as the small lion cub does so, all the while glancing up at his father and mewing.

Gavriel places the plate back in front of his son.

“He has you all fooled!”

“You never have a problem with tomfoolery,” Rowan points out as he eats his own meal.

Aedion grunts in agreement, chewing on a chicken leg, holding it down with one paw as he gnaws. Lysandra watches in her snow leopard form, chewing her own meat. She chose to do so as to not make Aedion feel excluded, communication rough but possible thanks to the both of them having cat based forms.

“Two animals eating at the table, wonderful,” Aelin rolls her eyes.

Rowan gives a pointed look towards Fleetfoot, who eats from Aelin’s hand.

“Don’t you dare judge our first child,” Aelin scowls, wrapping her arms around Fleetfoot’s neck, who stares up at the queen adoringly as she pants.

Grumbling, Rowan goes back to picking at his food.

Out of curiosity, Fleetfoot trots towards Aedion’s chair to nose and sniff at him, whining as she does so. Aedion presses himself against the back of the chair, knowing there’s no escape.

“Why don’t you play with her?” Aelin suggests.

Aedion’s dry look says it all.

“Fine,” Aelin scowls. “I guess that means you don’t want to play fetch either, huh?”

A growl joins the look, followed by a small screech as Fleetfoot jumps up, placing her two front paws on the chair to stand, only for it to topple over. Lysandra hisses out of shock, jumping back from the table. Aedion rolls on the floor before clambering to his feet, eyes closed as his shakes his head. Gavriel immediately reaches down, picking his son off the floor and holding Aedion in his lap as Fleetfoot continues to sniff at him, Aedion pushing back against his father to edge away from the quivering nose.

“Oh, she won’t hurt him,” Aelin scowls, going over to ruffle Fleetfoot’s coat. “She just wants to play!”

“She’ll maul him!” Rowan argues. “Look at how small he is!”

Aedion hisses at the older fae, swiping at the air.

“Really?” Aelin gives him an unimpressed look. “Don’t pretend you don’t love her.”

“…I didn’t say that…”

Aedion growls lowly, his head resting on Gavriel’s leg as he eyes Fleetfoot. Absently, Gavriel runs his hand over Aedion’s head, his large palm engulfing it as he runs his thump up his nose and strokes his hears back, repeating the gesture. Immediately, Aedion stops growling and goes limp.

Lysandra, in her ghost leopard form, stares and leans forward to shift at Aedion’s face, nudging at it to encourage his eyes to open.

“He’s probably exhausted,” Gavriel shrugs at everyone’s bewildered looks. “Lion sleep for a majority of the day, and he used a lot of magic to shift into this form,” turning to Lysandra, he holds his son out. “Could you take his back to your room?”

Without answering, the shifter opens her mouth and scoops Aedion up in it, a few people in the room wincing at how small the lion cub appears in the fanged mouth of the fully grown ghost leopard.

“She’s never going to let him live this down,” Aelin comments as she watches them go.

“Gods, no.”

“No way.”

“I sure as hell aren’t.”

“Poor boyo.”

~~~

Blinking his eyes open, Aedion groans at the ache that lines his body and head. It settles deep in his bones in such a way that only occurs after long hours of training. It’s almost as if every muscle has been stretched and knotted then cooled, causing it to be fixed into place. Yet somehow he feels refreshed, lighter, as if some coiled muscle inside of him he didn’t know was there has been released. Head foggy, he tries to remember the events of the past day, everything feeling as though he had been drunk, memories arriving in small pieces. He shifts slightly, starting to focus on the room and his position. His position where he’s being spooned by a ghost leopard while in his human form.

Well.

A few years ago he would have screamed and assumed death, so, really, this is an improvement. Even if he may have to seriously consider his strange new attraction to Lysandra while she’s wearing deadly forms.

He recognises the rumble against his back, the giant paws hanging over his side. He doesn’t bother turning around, simply closing his eyes once again, glad for the fur battling against the every present chill in the air. It lasts a little longer even when Lysandra shifts back into her human form, her own skin now pressing against his as she kisses his shoulder.

“Aedion?” She whispers in his ear.

Smiling, he turns his head. “Yes?”

“Next time you turn into a cub, I get the day with you.”

“…wait, what?”

People to tag:

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[coffeeandyoongi]

BTS reaction: you prank them with a fake hickey.

Request from anonymous: Can I request a bts reaction to you pranking them with a fake hickey? Thank youuu.

April Fool’s Day... Yup, you loved it. The best part of that day was pranking your boyfriend. 

This year, you were going to step up your game. You had called one of the boys’ make-up artists and told her about your plan. She was thrilled with the idea and said that she would gladly help you.

Seokjin:

With your fake hickey on the side of your neck and sitting on the sofa, you waited for him to enter the room after going to buy some groceries. When he did, you casually tilted your head to display the freshly painted bruise.

“I’m back, darling,” he happily announced.

You almost felt bad for what was going to happen.

“I noticed,” you chuckled and stood up from the sofa to help him with the bags, still tilting your head slightly.

You were stretching to get to the top cabinet in order to put the cookies inside when you heard an overdramatic gasp from Seokjin.

Here we go...

“What’s that?”

You widened your eyes and pouted just a little bit before turning your full attention to Seokjin. He was frowning at you, and as soon as you turned to look at him, he set aside your hair and got inspected your hickey.

“Is this a hickey? Are you cheating on me?!”

“Seokjin, I’m so sor-”

“No, I can’t do this. I can’t stay here and hear more lies from you,” he muttered.

He took the keys that were on the counter and left without a word. 

You stared at the door for some minutes. Seokjin had reacted in a way that you hadn’t expected at all. You had expected him to be too surprised to even speak, and that way you would tell him it was all a prank. But he just took off, leaving you totally empty.

You were just getting the doorknob to go after him when the door slammed open, revealing a chuckling Seokjin behind it.

What was happening?

“And you think you can prank me, what a cutie,” he said shaking his head and making his way into the kitchen, leaving you speechless. “You may want to step up your game, missy. I’ve been wearing makeup since my debut years, I think I can recognize it, baby,”

Yoongi:

He was in his studio, of course. You thought that Yoongi, being Yoongi, would’ve probably forgotten about April Fool’s Day. You couldn’t blame him, though. If you were him, you would’ve forgotten about it, as well.

Yoongi didn’t turn around to acknowledge your presence, instead, he grunted when you entered the room. You were a little disappointed when he didn’t look at you at first, but you brushed it off as you sat down on the sofa right behind him.

“So... How’s your day been?”

You had never been good at small talk, Yoongi knew that, so he turned around on his wheelchair to give you a confused look.

“I’m just trying to, you know, socialize. That’s what people do,” you explained.

His eyes landed on the side of your, purposely, exposed neck. You had spent a few extra minutes choosing the best top so your fake hickey could be easily spotted by him. 

At first, he frowned at the red and purple bruise. And you thought he was going to make a bitter remark and then you would be able to tell him that it was all a prank, but Yoongi surprised you when he got up and brought his face to yours. You gulped at the sudden closeness. He took his thumb into his mouth, not breaking visual contact and then grabbed your face to turn it around putting on display your neck.

“Y-yoongi, I can explain- ugh...”

He had pressed his wet thumb on your hickey and then smudged it, leaving a dark and moist trail that went from your neck to your jaw.

“Sorry, you had a little somethin’,” he smirked, “I don’t think I got it, though,“ he sucked his thumb again and tried to wipe off the remaining makeup, but you smacked his hand away, annoyed because he had noticed that it was fake.

“You’re disgusting.”

“At least I know how to prank someone,” he chuckled turning around to focus on his music again.

Hoseok:

You were wearing a sweater. It was a pretty warm day, but you were wearing a blue sweater and Hoseok had noticed that you were uncomfortably hot. So he, being the kind person he had always been, suggest you took off the warm cloth. You said it was fine, even when you knew he was going to insist and you would have to get rid of it, exposing your fake bruise.

“Seriously, I don’t want you to pass out,” he pressed a little more.

“Fine, I’ll take it off.”

As soon as you pull it up, Hoseok’s eyes spotted the purple mark on your shoulder. His face fell. You played dumb and widened your eyes, getting closer to him. He pulled away.

“Y-you have a hickey,” he stated with a sheepish voice.

“Hoseok...”

“You cheated on me?” He asked and then he shook his head. “You cheated on me...”

You had thought that pranking him would be fun, like the other times. But right now, it didn’t feel okay. It felt just evil, as if you were playing with his feelings. He looked like a puppy that had been kicked in the snout. It was heartbreaking.

“Oh God, are you crying? No, please, listen to me,” he didn’t look like he wanted to listen. “It’s fake!”

“This relationship?!”

“What? No! The hickey, the hickey is fake, honey. It’s a joke, “you wiped off the makeup and showed him the remainings in your hand, “see?”

“Oh...” He said and then chuckled, still a little confused. “That’s funny.”

“Is it?” You asked. “Because you look like you’re gonna pass out, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“No. Yes, you scared the hell out of me, but,” he let out a laugh, this one more energetic than the other one, “it’s funny.”

Namjoon:

When you took off your pink scarf, he didn’t notice it at first. He was too focused on whatever he was doing on his laptop to even look up from it. You didn’t want to draw his attention to your neck on purpose. You wanted it to be natural so he wouldn’t suspect a thing, but he was making it so difficult.

You thought about your possibilities and the best idea you could come up with was stretching dramatically so he would at least take a glance at you.

The plan backfired, though, because while you were stretching your arms over your head, you lost balance and fell off the sofa.

Silence.

“... Are you okay?”

You stayed still on the floor, feeling sorry for yourself.

“Yup. Just peachy.”

“Are you sure?” He asked again, humour dripping out of his voice.

“Yup. Continue whatever you’re doing there,” you awkwardly replied, still laying on the floor.

Namjoon’s head popped up from the sofa and looked at you with curiosity. 

“Is that a hickey you have there, baby?” He questioned smiling at you. He was enjoying every second of your awkward fail on attempting to prank him.

You sighed, trying to fight the blush that was growing on your cheeks. This was so embarrassing.

“Yes, I’m having a passionate affair with some guy and I can’t hide it anymore, Namjoon,” you answered robotically. He laughed and held his hand for you to take it so you could stand up.

“That’s good to know,” he simply said and patted your head.

Taehyung:

Sometimes Taehyung could be clueless. He would miss the little things like maybe when you had a haircut, stuff like that. So you knew that in order for him to notice that your neck had a fake love bit, you would have to work for it.

When you crossed the door, he came out of his room and received you with a warm smile. It almost made you feel guilty about what you were going to do, but you couldn’t just back out. It was April Fools Day after all, right?

It was almost funny how you totally ignored the fact the if you knew about April Fools Day, Taehyung and practically everybody else on the planet was aware of it. 

So no, you didn’t see it coming. Everybody attacking you with water guns, aiming at you, and not thinking it twice before soaking your body.

“They’re bleeding, stop it!” Someone said. You were pretty sure it had been Taehyung.

Bleeding? Oh, right. The make-up. 

“It’s make-up, I’m okay,” you informed, “but that doesn’t mean you get to keep attacking me with water, so quit it.”

Taehyng handed you a towel and you accepted it.

“Why would you apply red make-up on your neck, though,” he thought to himself out loud.

“I wanted to prank you with a fake hickey, okay?

He laughed trying to dry off your face. 

“It wouldn’t have worked, you know? It’s April Fools Day, and you actually thought I would’ve fallen for that,” he commented, still laughing.

Jimin:

Every now and then, Jimin would invite you to his practice and would try to teach you some choreographies. It was just fun, nothing serious and he would usually do it whenever he felt confident enough to allow himself no to practice for hours non-stop.

After a few hours of dancing, you were getting hot, so you decided to take off your jumper and finally expose the fake hickey. 

Jimin didn’t notice it until you were in the middle of the song. He almost fell, tripping over his own feet. Because of his nerves and maybe his exhaustion, he didn’t notice it was make-up. He also ignored the fact that the fake bruise was a little smudged because of the sweat.

He was quick to pause the music and turn around with a sad look on his face. He wasn’t looking at you. He didn’t want to. 

“Jimin, what’s wrong?” You asked, trying to keep your act.

“Why don’t you ask that to that purple thing on your neck?”

“What- Oh.” 

“Yes, “oh”. Were you planning on telling me you are cheating on me?” He said.

He was mad, you couldn’t blame him. If you found out about an infidelity, you would be mad as well, maybe even more. Nevertheless, Jimin with his arms folded over his chest and a scrunched nose was too cute to handle. 

When you didn’t answer his question, he was quick to run to the corner where he had left his things and tried to pick them up so he could leave the room. A few tears already clouding his sight.

“Don’t go! It was a joke, baby! Look, I can clean it off,” you begged, grabbing his shirt so he couldn’t take another step away from you.

When he finally looked at you and then at your relatively new neck, he stopped struggling and checked again. Your skin was clean, love bites clear.

“Why do you do this to me?” He groaned. “You scared me!”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

Jungkook:

You had totally forgotten about the prank. 

You had been watching T.V for a long time while waiting for Jungkook to come back from practice and when he finally did, you were snoring on the sofa with the T.V still on.

When he saw you on the sofa, deeply asleep, he thought about scaring you, but he stopped his tracks as soon as he noticed that hickey on your neck. He didn’t know how to react, but he surely didn’t want to confront you soon. It was too painful. So he tried to leave the dorms to think, but while he was opening the door, you woke up because he wasn’t quiet enough.

“Jungkookie?” You asked.

“Y-yes?”

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

He might as well have.

His eyes trailed by the bruise on your neck and stayed there for a long time. It was long enough for you to pick up on what was wrong. Your hand flew to the hickey and you got up to walk over him.

“Oh, no, no! Jungkook, it’s make-up, I swear,” you reassured and tried to caress his face, but he backed away. “You don’t believe me?”

He didn’t reply.

“Fine,” you said and licked your thumb, before that you rubbed it on the “bruised” spot, smudging the make-up. “See? Make-up!”

“You were planning to prank me with that?” He asked tilting his head. You nodded. “... Why didn’t I think about that? That’s clever.”

“You looked like you were going to throw up, so I’d appreciate it if you don’t kill me whenever you want to prank me, thank you very much.”

He smirked and then shrugged. “You almost killed me, I just want us to be even.”

“Don’t even think about it...”

“Too late, I’m already planning my prank, baby. Just wait for it.”

[frostiik]

THIS TOOK ME FOREVER AND I’M SORRY BUT HERE’S PART 1 OF THE ENDING QINTER DESERVED AND I PROMISE THERE WILL BE MORE

Winter sat on the pebbly shore of the cold lake, drawing his claws through the dark water. He watched the ripples move and catch the early morning light, still pale blue before the sunrise. Next to him, a young MudWing dragonet was trying to mimic him, though the swirls she made with her claws were nowhere near as gentle and graceful. He chuckled softly, and she furrowed her brow in determination.

“Slower, Amber. You’re making too much noise,” he said to her.

“You’re the one making too much noise,” Amber huffed, lashing her tail and making several pebbles scatter. She tried once more, slower, but the turns of her wrist were still not smooth. She tried for several seconds with intense concentration, then frowned.

“ARRRGH!” she roared. “I give up!”

Winter quirked his brow. “If you’re done making such a ruckus, let’s get you back to your brother before everyone wakes up.” He rose to his feet and stretched his limbs out, stiff from sitting for so long.

“It’s still so early. Nobody’s going to be up for a couple more hours, at least,” Amber said.

“Look, the sun’s rising, and there’s a scavenger hunt today. A LITERAL scavenger hunt,” he added when Amber’s eyes widened with delight. Her face fell into a pout. “We’re setting out soon.”

“Another stupid scavenger hunt? What’s so interesting about those dumb little creatures, anyway?” Amber huffed, kicking a pebble.

Winter tipped his snout back and opened his mouth to retort, but then he heard Qibli’s mocking voice in his head saying oh, look at me, I’m the queen’s nephew, all I do is walk around with my snout in the air and act like I’m better than everyone! Winter closed his mouth and sighed, already feeling a headache pulsing at the front of his skull. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

Amber reluctantly followed after him as he walked back to Sanctuary, the small village nestled in the foothills of the Claws of the Clouds Mountains where the remaining dragons in the Talons of Peace had settled down to live after the “defeat” of Darkstalker (to which Winter had no part in, might he add with much annoyance). He could feel his blood beginning to heat up and shook his head to clear any thoughts of Darkstalker. He’s gone, and that’s all that matters.

Sanctuary quickly came into Winter’s view, and he could see a couple of dragons already milling about. Amber’s hut was on the outskirts of Sanctuary, a short circle-shaped mound of dried mud and grass with a straw roof. She lived with her half-brother, a six-year-old MudWing named Toad. He was often out on hunting patrols or scavenger hunts, so Winter barely ever saw him unless he was put into the same patrol or hunt as him. From what he knew of Toad and from how Amber spoke of him, he was a good role model, albeit shy and a bit awkward. He reminded Winter a lot of Moon.

Amber nudged Winter’s side with her wing. “Have fun on your lame scavenger hunt,” she said as she flounced off towards her hut, long tail swaying happily behind her.

“THEY’RE NOT LAME-” Winter started to shout before cutting himself off abruptly upon receiving a couple of sharp looks from the other dragons near him.

Winter was just turning to head towards Riptide’s den when he heard someone yelling his name from the opposite direction. He swung around and saw Oryx, a wiry old SandWing who was in charge of receiving, organizing, and distributing all mail that came to Sanctuary. She’d been a messenger for Burn during the war, and had decided to continue doing her job even after Sanctuary had been set up. She said her reason for continuing to be a messenger was “if I was able to survive the entire war doing this, then the universe is trying to tell me that being a messenger is my destiny”. Winter had been amazed at the fact that she’d lived through the entire war while technically being a part of it. Especially under Burn, too.

Winter headed towards her, and as he approached she pulled a scroll out of her bag. With shaking claws she passed it to him and smiled, displaying several missing teeth. “It’s from that Qibli again,” she said, blinking slowly at him with her cloudy black eyes. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t know where to send these letters,” Winter huffed. “Or I could say that he’s just creepily obsessed with trying to be my friend.”

“Trying to be your friend?” Oryx repeated, tilting her head and making her earrings jangle.

“I was pretty adamant about not wanting to make any friends at Jade Mountain Academy, but he was pretty adamant about the opposite of that,” Winter explained. “I honestly don’t know how I managed to put up with him.”

Oryx grinned again. “By the way, he hand-delivered this to me. He said he misses you and wants to see you again soon. It might be written in there, too.” She gestured to the scroll in Winter’s talons.

“Eh, he’s probably just gloating about how he ended up with Moon and I didn’t.” Winter shrugged, but inside he knew that was the farthest thing from the truth. All of Qibli’s letters to him had been pretty much the same, about how much he missed Winter and how much he worried about him. No gloating anywhere. He hardly even mentioned Moon at all, unless it was to say that she was doing fine and she misses him, too.

Oryx’s eyes glinted in the golden light of the sunrise. “Oh, I doubt that. Have a good day.” She nodded once to him before heading back into her small den, quietly clicking the door shut.

Suddenly intrigued to read Qibli’s new letter, more intrigued than he had been to read any of his earlier ones, he decided to head straight back to his den instead of visiting Riptide to ask about his schedule for the day.

Luckily, his den wasn’t too far from here; he was there in a matter of minutes without flying. He opened the door and slipped inside, heading to the small slab of stone he’d propped up on a couple of rocks and pretended like it was a table. He unrolled the scroll to find an unusually short message. A bit skeptical, he quirked his brow and started to read.