#given that its a small village anyone who was looking for him would have been able to claim him by now so we're keeping him

[boot-prints]

And to think we worried about how they'd get on 💛💛💛

[kcwriter-blog]

I've been thinking about how we the players know so little about Solas compared to what the writers and developers know about him and how that affects the way he is written.

I mean we know he is an ancient elf. We know he was powerful enough and skilled enough to create the Veil. We know he and Mythal were friends. He doesn't seem to have liked Andruil and Falon'Din much. Skyhold belonged to him. He removed vallislin. He tried to free slaves. He had kind of an underground railroad thing going. He seems to have had a lot of money secreted away. He painted even back in Arlathan. A lot of statues seem to have been made of him. People in the Vir Dirthara knew he created the Veil but were surprised that he would do something like that. He seems to have always had an affinity for the Fade and spirits. He enjoyed whatever version of the Game nobles in Arlathan played. He was cocky and hot blooded, always spoiling for a fight. He is capable of love and friendship.

I think that's all and it really isn't much. Everything else anyone says about him is pure speculation. It makes meta fun but its easy to get too caught up in our own ideas.

We speculate about him based on things we learn from his personal quests and what we see in Trespasser but we don't know anything for sure. Was he a slave? Was he a spirit called out of the Fade by Mythal and given a body? Did he manifest a body like Cole? Was he just a normal elf born in a small village to the north? Was he a noble and privileged or did he work his way up? Did he join the fight against the Titans? Was he a genius who theorized that the waking world and Fade could be separated? Did he use untried magic because his back was against the wall and he couldn't think of any other way to save the world? Was he a friend of the Evanuris so they trusted him enough to fall into his trap? Was he one of them?

So many questions. The writers have tried to portray him sympathetically. They want us to empathize with him. And I have to ask myself why? He is one of the antagonists. Wouldn't it be easier to portray him as not having any redeeming qualities? And yet, he is basically described as the hero who lived long enough to become the villain.

I know his detractors believe he is a genocidal, racist maniac but that doesn’t track with everything we learn about him as high approval or romanced Inquisitors. It certainly isn’t born out by his statement that he is doing his best to minimize the damage.

He truly believes what he is doing is best for the world and is willing to break it and remake it. What does he know? But more importantly, what do the writers know? Fen' Harel has existed since Origins. Devs have always planned for him to make an appearance. That means the valleslin has always been a mark of slavery even if the Dalish didn't know. The Creators have always been horrible, slave owners even if the Dalish don't remember. Which means Solas has always been the rebel fighting for what he believes is right.

Why do the writers see him not so much as the villain (although Epler uses that word constantly - he is usually the only one though) as they do a somewhat noble person who keeps making mistakes? Why is he portrayed as just a sad man who can't see past his regret and guilt. What was he like? What changed him? What did he know about the Veil before he put it up?

I get that a lot of people don't like the idea of being tied to him in Veilguard but maybe the writers did that so we have no choice but to get to know him - the good and the bad. Maybe we finally get to know Solas the way the writers and developers know him. I'm looking forward to that.

[lint-beetle4]

Netflix Monkey King? I want to try. Of course when u get done with other requests😃

I would like to request a Monkey King x female celestial reader headcanons that contains fluff, slight angst and romance. Reader can be shy or any personality u want. If u do shy, they comfort Monkey King saying he doesnt need to be powerful or a god to fit in(trying to remember the plot from memory).

But I hope u do stay safe😊

Celestial Chaos (Netflix!Wukong X Fem!Celestial!Reader)

You hated the monkey that disrupted the celestial realm

Since its birth, the stone monkey had gained a name for itself, challenging gods, defying the heavens and terrifying spirits

The thing was clearly a force of chaos, a force of evil that refused to relent its tyraid

Despite it all, you couldn't help but feel pity for the poor Monkey King, the Sage that tried to fit in with heaven

It was clear his pride was merely protecting him, sending him whispers that he was enough, because he made himself be enough

The demons that fell to him proved his worth, but you knew the celestial realm wouldn't allow anyone of his nature in

Heaven only allowed obedience and order, traits the foolish sage could never have in his state

You weren't too different from him, if you could rationalize it too much

Your shy nature made you invisible, overlooked, excluded

People thought you were either uninteresting or too pompous to converse to the other gods

You never believed their words, but they still stung

You could only imagine how the sage felt when he fought his way to heaven only to be met with scorn

You did your best to soften the blows, acting in solidarity of someone who knew how the generals and gods could be

The foolish monkey became smitten, looking up to you like heaven didn't matter

In the back of your brain, you could say the same

A foolish monkey in your eyes transformed into an honest, proud man who was in over his head

His quest for power was a call for help, a plea that someone would accept him

You were briefly aware of the little mortal that followed him, ill intentions in the way she held herself, yet guilt consuming her

You could only hope that she would help the monkey

In the end, she revealed her true color, bound by a deal meant to bring the king to his knees

the foolish dragon didn't know the price he would pay, and neither did Wukong

With Wukong's revolt, you watched in horror, pleading to him, begging him to stop and calm himself

Yet, he was overcome with power, and the heavens did the only thing they could do: summon Buddha

In the end, Wukong was sealed, but a hidden blessing had been given to you: you were tasked with feeding him and ensuring he survived--something no other celestial wanted to do

You gave him snacks, peaches and all sorts of food that you could find, knowing the celestials wouldn't watch you--a lucky trait of being a doormat is that no one knows your small acts of defiance

As centuries passed by, the king had been freed, tasked with a journey

You had a recent mission to grant blessings to nearby village plagued by drought, and on your way there, you were met with a pair of arms hugging your from behind

There you saw him, your Wukong, the Sage Greater Than Heaven, freed at last

[auspicioustidings]

For the 1k requests/suggestions:

Druid!Soap who's protected the lands faithfully and ferociously for years, and Reader, the nature god/goddess/diety/spirit of those lands, decides to reveal herself and reward him for it?

Could go in any direction you want, pure fluff or darker or smut or anything! Just the first idea I had

Ok so you know how you said it could be darker or smut? Got carried away with this one :') This is just feral PWP that was written in one sitting and Johnny is mean as shit in it so pls HEED THE CWs.

Foul Magic

Words: 2.8k

CWs: Non-con, heavy smut, threatened bestiality (sort of, it's a Druid-ey shapeshifting hybrid thing and I have no clue how to CW that)

He was your greatest protector, had been for a decade now. When John MacTavish had offered himself to your service he had been a reckless teen, already an expert at spilling blood. You were no Silvanus, only a simple forest spirit with your own forest to tend and a handful of followers amongst the bordering villages mainly made up of the hunters and foragers who benefited from your kindness. 

“I will pledge myself tae ye for 10 years forest spirit” the young man had called out in the midst of the trees, “and in return I ask that once my service is complete ye reveal yourself tae me.”

It was a strange offer. You had never had anyone pledge themselves to you before. People left offerings certainly, made small shrines, but you had never had a sworn protector. A Druid, you thought, you could make him a Druid. You could finally test what your magic could really do.

Human lives were such short things that you didn't fully believe he would complete the 10 years. The life of a Druid was solitary and hard. He took to it with a violent fury that took your breath away. Never before had the soil been so sustained on the blood of those who sought to plunder its treasures without the proper respect. Every boon afforded him, John took and wielded as if born to hold such power. 

He was magnificent. Bear like in his strength, wolf like in his ferocity, fox like in his cleverness. And all too soon the 10 years was up. You had made a deal and would have to hold to it if you wanted to keep him. And you did want to keep him. The thought of your Druid leaving your forest made the flowers wilt around you.

He strode into your Grove, a man now. He was broad and full of scars proving his devotion to your protection, his hair shaved in at the sides but left long in the middle with braids shot through. You were fascinated by how strong he had become, muscles functional and snuggled under a layer of fat as proof of your care for him, tartan fabric held to his body with only clever pleating and a belt. 

“I have served faithfully for 10 years as was promised, I’ve come tae collect what I’m due.”

“And I hope in those 10 years you have enjoyed my patronage.”

He turned to see you, an ethereal thing made flesh for him. Fucking finally. He strode forward as your fond, soft smile turned to a look of fear, his hand bunching up in your hair and yanking you to look at him. You found that when you tried to shift to another form his magic, the magic you had given him, was weaving through yours to try and block you. The thought that you would be as helpless as some human maiden was horrifying.

“If ye had any sense at all, ye wouldnae have given me all yer power. Did ye really think I’d serve ye for ten years just tae look at ye?” he spat, venomous and unlike the Druid that had spoken worship on the wind to you all this time. “Fucked plenty of virgins in yer wee forest right under yer nose, had them gagging and crying, but none of them have satisfied what it is I really wanted. Been thinking about your tight wee nymph cunt being good and broken on my cock since I could use it, and I am a very patient man when it comes tae the things I want.”

You glowered at him, feeling your magic slide against the wall he had built and glancing off. He grinned an awful beastly grin and threw you to the floor, the slam of your knees on dirt unfamiliar and unpleasant. 

“You cannot do this. Please John, see reason. You are a protector of this place!”

He laughed and circled you, putting a boot firmly to the centre of your back and kicking you down so your face landed in the soil.

“Aye, I was until today. 10 years was the agreement, and now I take payment. Arse up, present properly for yer protector, least ye could do after all this time.”

He surely couldn’t mean to mount you like some beast. The idea that he meant to violate you at all was already unthinkable, but to do it in such a violent and debased manner was unforgivable. 

“You will not do this!”

You flared your power and he shoved it back, forcing it to act against you. He controlled it, the sickening pulse of your own magic being twisted as your body cracked and shifted. It was wrong, some half shift that felt unnatural. You heard the tear of the thin gossamer gown draped over you as something ripped through it. He laughed meanly and you howled in pain as you were grabbed by what you realised was a tail to force your hips up for him. He had done a disgusting thing with your magic, keeping you in your human form with the tail of your wolf form purely to torture you. It was forbidden to do such a thing, to create some new creature outside of nature in any way. You could feel hot tears spilling over as he wrapped the tail around his fist, pulling and twisting horribly. 

“Ye going tae behave? Or dae ye need to find out what I can dae to my own form?”

The implication was horrible. You scrambled with a sob, bracing your knees and moving yourself to present the way he wanted you to. 

“Aww, dinnae want a nice knot?” he said as he leaned over you, pressing his body to yours so his hot, wet breath was panting in your ear. “Maybe ye’d prefer something else.”

His foul magic invaded you again and you could see how your nails sharpened. Your hand barely started to shift into the paw of a snow leopard and you immediately started to plead. If he fucked you using that kind of cock you would surely be torn to shreds.

“P-please! Your cock! Just yours John, I want it.”

“Aye? I dinnae ken if I’m convinced. Maybe it’d be good to get my barbs in ye, fuck you bloody.”

“No please, it… it wouldn’t fill me properly if it wasn’t your human form. Wouldn’t be able to breed me like I want. Please fuck me with your cock John, I want it so badly” you sobbed, bile rising at your own words.

He laughed in dark delight, the hand gripping painfully at your tail letting go to plunge two fingers into you. It felt like you were being penetrated with a hot poker with how little warning he had given. You choked through breaths as your shape twisted back to yourself, tail painfully deforming and the formation of paws reversing. 

“Good thing yer body is backing ye up. So fucking wet and messy already little slut, knew ye’d be drooling for my cock.”

He noticed how you were taking shuddering breaths, clearly fixating on a spot in the distance to try and dissociate. That wouldn’t do at all and he ripped apart what was left of the thin gossamer so he could bring his open palm hard to the meat of your ass. He knew by how you squealed that nobody had ever taken a hand to you before and it was delicious.

Breaking you was all he had ever wanted, it was all he thought about when his cock was deep inside some new needy cunt or tight arse or wet mouth. He hated how after they would try to keep him as if he was something to be owned by anyone else. He had lost count of the lives he had taken from losing his temper over it. But now that he had you crying in the dirt, pussy throbbing around his fingers, he wanted to savour it. 

Your nails clawed at the ground and you tried to get onto your hands and crawl forward when his fingers left you and instead he buried his head between your legs. His grip on your thighs was painfully tight, yanking you right back into position with your arms collapsing back under you, face down ass up. 

It was too much, his tongue was wet and squirming and hot and inside you. He meant to devour you, to ruin you entirely. You had about braced to be fucked, but not for this, not for the intense spark of heady desire that came from this. 

“Fuckin’ knew it, knew ye’d taste sweeter than anything else” he growled against you as he released one thigh to get his fingers on your clit, needing to get you wetter to sait the thirst for your arousal that was burning through him now. “Dae ye taste good everywhere?”

“J-John! Ah you can’t, not there” you babbled as he licked up to your rim, diving into it with the same enthusiasm as he had your pussy. 

It was disgusting how he tongued up the slick that was weeping from your cunt to drag it to your ass, plunging his tongue in and out of your hole and driving you absolutely mad. This was debauched. The trees were creaking and groaning around you, powerless to help their mistress.

“Tell me ye fucking love it.”

“Stop, please!”

“Fucking say it” he growled, sinking his teeth into the same flesh he had slapped earlier. 

You screamed, sure he must have used that horrid magic again to sharpen his teeth to that of a predator with how you felt the skin break, his tongue lapping at the trickle of blood he had earned himself. 

“I love it” you said quietly, ashamed.

“Use your fucking words.”

The threat of his teeth was still there, they were scraping against your clit.

“I love your tongue in my ass! It’s perfect, thank you so much, making me so w- making me so wet” you moaned out, feeling your cunt clench with the shame of knowing it wasn’t quite a lie.

“Good girl” he purred, the praise vibrating through you. “Should reward ye naw? What dae ye want?”

There was a dark warning laced in his tone. You knew there was a wrong answer and you wouldn’t dare to give it. If you pleaded for a stop to this he would do much worse to you than if you pleaded for the less painful option.

“Want to cum on your mouth, want to cum on your cock in my pussy.”

“Mm? Whose mouth? Whose cock?”

You squeezed your eyes shut against the utter humiliation this human was making you face.

“Yours… master.”

“Atta girl.”

He laughed behind you before bringing that sinful mouth to latch onto your clit. He sucked hard and then lapped at it like a beast until you were squirming only to then go to your opening and make sure he got every drop of sweet liquid drooling out of you. It was torturous as your body betrayed you over and over again, pliant and gushing for him. He kept you on the edge of euphoria for what felt like hours before you broke.

“Fuck! Please master, want to cum!” 

The panting moans were brainless, you were so desperate. He cooed at you, his tone saccharine even as his words were degrading.

“Needy wee slut, cannae keep your legs closed can ye? Disgusting bitch tae let a man do this tae ye. Bet ye dream of walking into the village and letting everyone have a go at this sloppy cunt.”

“Only you master, please please please!”

“Aye, only me.”

His tongue which had been wild before was now lethally precise, the tip of it flicking rapidly at your throbbing clit. As you felt yourself crest he wrenched one of your arms to put your own hand there while he removed his face. Out of some hedonistic instinct you started to play with yourself to make the orgasm last, so stupid from the pleasure that it took a moment for the pain to sink in as his cock was forced inside you to the hilt.

Johnny was in rapture. Forcing himself in while your poor cunt was fluttering and clenching on nothing was almost painful from how tightly his cock was being squeezed. Your body was panicked, pleasure and pain at their height at the same time making you so incredibly tight and hot for him. Fuck, the way you were pulsing around him it was almost like getting a blow job, the ripple of wet pressure making him howl out his pleasure against your screech of pain.

He had already so thoroughly broken you that when he started to fuck you at a brutal pace you just drooled and cried and babbled. The distinction between pain and pleasure, what you hated and what you loved, was completely erased. It was all the same liquid heat inside of you that was demanding this. Demanding for you to be fucked savagley into the dirt, for you to take everything he had to give you. Demanding to be bred like the bitch in heat you were.

“I ken sweetheart, ye need tae earn it. Cum around my cock again.”

You didn’t even know what you were saying out loud and what thoughts were your own anymore as your clumsy fingers slipped around on your clit, trying to create friction despite the smooth glide from how much you dripped with arousal. You could feel the stickiness on your fingers, feel tendrils stretching lewdly in a connecting strand whenever you moved them away from your skin.

“Fucking dae it, cum on my cock!” 

It was a lightning storm of pain versus pleasure ripping through you as he adjusted to slam into that spongy spot inside you that set off every nerve ending over and over with no reprieve. At the same time he began to absolutely brutalise your ass with his open palms, violent and unrestrained. There was a gush of liquid as you came, screaming your throat raw.

John had never felt so powerful. You had been reduced to a squirting, screaming mess underneath him, a fucking animal begging in the dirt. He handled you how he liked, went as hard as he wanted. Any human would have broken. Any human would have fucking died with how he finally unleashed the beast inside of him, finally married violence with sex the way he had always wanted. 

“That’s it, fucking daft bitch, stupid wee brood mare, made tae fucking take it!”

You were begging again, nothing left in your brain but the desperation to be bred by a strong male. He was happy to do it, loyal protector that he was. Happy to give you exactly what you whined and mewled for, slamming home and cumming deep inside you. He fucked you through his own orgasm. He fucked you even when it was painful. It wasn’t until his cock finally slipped out, spent and struggling to find any purchase when he wasn’t fully engorged given how fucking sloppy you were.

He pushed you away after, leaving you a pile on the floor panting and ruined. Sitting back on his heels he had to take a moment for the dizziness from what had just happened to subside. Time for him to get out of this forest he supposed. He was not welcome on this land anymore. As he stood he took stock. While his kilt simply draped again to cover the sticky mess you had left on his skin and the dirt on his knees was easy enough to dust off, your gown was torn to shreds, your body beaten and bruised. He was perhaps a little surprised when your eyes opened and you blinked at him.

You felt the delicious strain of the most satisfying fuck of your life, only opening your eyes when you heard him get to his feet. Oh, he thought he was leaving. His eyes lit up with confusion and a tiny spark of feral delight as vines erupted from the ground to ensnare his ankle. Silly boy, thinking you powerless. If you had truly imbued him with the amount of your power he had deluded himself that you had, his human body would have burnt up and been dust on the wind years ago. It was laughable that he would have been able to block your magic.

“Did you truly think I didn't know your intentions from the start? Oh John, you are mine” you said with the fond bemusement one might have for a grumpy child. “Now come and perform your duty to your mistress, I am hardly done with you.”

[endlessnightlock]

Regencylark! Part one of maybe three?

Based on the prompt, Evening, submitted by @mollywog

Under the weary gaze of Plutarch Heavensbee, Esq., Peeta Mellark completed his perusal of Uncle Haymitch's last will and testament and, thoroughly shocked by its contents, cast the document aside. "Can he actually do this?"

Heavensbee shrugged. "I'm sorry to tell you, my boy, he most certainly can. While you shall retain the title, either way, the money was not entailed with the estate. No matter how eccentric Haymitch may have been, he was in his right mind until the end."

Steepling his fingertips beneath his chin, Mellark frowned. "Well, this is a bit of a shit."

Heavensbee, sensing the beginning of a lengthy conversation on the tale end of a journey already fraught with disasters at every turn that resulted in him only arriving two days before the deadline set forth by the will (god rest his soul, though Heavensbee would have some choice words for the man if they were to meet in the afterlife), made himself comfortable in the ancient wingback chair next to the fire. He took a sip of the brandy Mellark's man poured out for them, forcing himself not to shudder. The drink was not of a good quality.

The situation was certainly a bit of a shit. It was apparent to anyone with eyes that Mellark was in no way prepared to take over the estate without additional funds to aid in its upkeep. If Heavensbee were to guess, the young man barely kept up the expenses of this house.

Heavensbee coughed several times, an indication that they had no time to dilly-dally. Mellark finally looked up. "Have you no lady of a particular acquaintance who is wife material?"

The younger man frowned. "One would think so. Unfortunately, one would be wrong. My whole life, I have made an effort to avoid society." He shuddered as if the idea of balls and theater gatherings and garden parties made him ill. "I assumed when the time came that I must take a wife, it would be after I had possession of Lord Abernathy's title and funds."

"How about, er, a special friend? Someone you keep company with regularly?"

"I have no mistress."

Heavensbee was beginning to sweat. This was going poorer than he'd anticipated. Mellark made it sound as though he were a hermit or a monk. "No local woman? A pretty village widow?"

Mr. Mellark stared back at him as if a woman were an alien concept.

"Anyone? Christ man, a scullery maid?"

There was a polite-sounding knock on the drawing-room door. It was Mellark's man again. The future Lord (perhaps penniless Lord?) made no effort to hide his relief at the interruption in conversation. Heavensbee sighed.

"My apologies for the interruptions, Sir, but you requested I let you know when Ms. Everdeen arrived."

Mellark's face lit up in what seemed genuine delight. "Oh, wonderful. Heavensbee, do you mind a short interruption in our conversation? It is not necessary to dismiss yourself. Simply a small matter to take care of."

No, Heavensbee certainly did not mind the appearance of an unmarried woman at the present time. "By all means," he said. Once Mellark's man was dismissed and the two were once again alone in the drawing room, he began his inquiry with delicacy. "Ms. Everdeen?"

"The local gamekeeper," Peeta explained, rising to his feet. Heavensbee followed. "It is a bit untoward having a young woman in the position, but her father before was renowned for his skill."

"Does Ms. Everdeen have a good reputation?"

"Oh, the best as far as I know. She is well-loved in the community. Highly respected. Not given to drink or men. She is quite an attractive woman," Mellark admitted, chewing the corner of his lip in contemplation.

Hope simmered in Heavensbee's belly at the younger man's admiration for any woman, romantic or not. A lot of good marriages began out of mutual admiration. Love was free to blossom in such situations.

"Tell me if you would then. This Ms. Everdeen---she is unattached?"

"I'm not subject to village gossip, Heavensbee. I do not know Ms. Everdeen well, except that she has a mother and sister in her care."

Heavensbee had to restrain himself from smacking Mellark in the back of his head. Simply in the interest of knocking some smarts into the young man. "So Ms. Everdeen is a young, attractive woman, most likely unattached, with an unmatched reputation."

"What are you getting at?" Mellark asked, setting his drink aside.

"My boy, do you not see? When one is in a pinch, such as you are, the deadline for your nuptials is tomorrow evening, and Ms. Everdeen sounds like your best option for a wife. If she is willing."

[googleitlol]

HOO boy, this is a fun one. This part of the journey is one I've had knocking around my head since the beginning, mostly cuz I came up with it the same time I created Dove's backstory!

Dove Masterlist:

Monkshood

Laughter masks the crackling of the campfire you circle with your friends, the look of confused horror on Tripitaka’s face sending his disciples into three cackling messes, even you can’t help but chuckle at his expression. After hiking through the wilderness all day, your friends had set up in a moderately open space in the wooded terrain you’ve been travelling through.

This will be the last night you have to camp before arriving in the next major occupied space. Another kingdom awaits your group, but first you settle for the night in the seclusion of trees to rest. Cooking the rice a family had given you from a few days ago over the fire, and after some foraging, you all had taken seats around the fire to eat and talk.

Tripitaka sits against Ao Lie, who lies just behind him. “We have been on the road together for so long, and only now am I learning that all of my disciples have eaten human flesh?!”

“Many demons eat people, I find it more rare to meet one who doesn’t.” You shrug from your spot by the fire across from the monk. It does not surprise you as much to learn this, especially since the only vegetarian demons you know of are all in your company at the moment.

Pigsy lets out a sigh. “We are all strictly vegetarian now, even if I do miss the tender flavour of meat every now and again.” He looks into the fire, his eyes almost yearning until you whack his arm. “Hey!”

You offer an unapologetic smirk to the pig demon next to you, Wukong snickers on your left. “Maybe you shouldn’t work yourself up thinking about it, Pigsy.”

“But it’s difficult!” He complains, the look on his face wistful. “I can still remember the taste. I’ve only been a buddhist monk for a few years now, I’m not like you. How many years has it been since you have tasted meat?”

The question gives you a moment of pause. How long has it been now? “I honestly can’t remember if I’ve ever had it. I would have had to have been a child, then.”

A thought crosses your mind, and you can’t help but giggle. “I do remember a very close friend of mine, a boy named Da Jie. I had never met anyone who was so obsessed with food. He honestly could have eaten more than you, Bajie.” You shake your head, it isn’t often you think about those days.

“I highly doubt that.” Bajie snorts, crossing his arms with a prideful grin.

Sandy shoots you with an inquiring look. “Did this boy live in that village you mentioned by Potalaka Mountain?”

You freeze for a second, caught off guard by the question. “No, I knew Jie before I was a disciple of Guan Yin.”

“Before?” Wukong leans over, an inquisitive expression overtaking his features.

The campfire really is warm, isn’t it? You feel yourself sitting a bit straighter before answering. “…Yes, before. I had a life before I joined my master in her home.”

“I had just assumed you lived in that village by Guan Yin’s Mountain before joining her.” Wujing hums to himself a bit. “Where were you from before?”

The heat of the fire is certainly doing its job. “It, uh, it was a small village, not near any commonly-travelled roads. I don’t remember much, but there was a pond Da Jie and I would play by. On the way there he would chat my ear off, prattling about all the different plants we passed on the way and when we got there.” You smile as you recall those nights, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “His father studied herbs for medicinal purposes, and Jie always had to repeat everything he learned. Sometimes if he found a flower he liked, he would ask his father what it was so he could tell me about its properties.”

“Flowers?” Pigsy grins, nudging you with his arm. “Sounds like more than just a friend.” He laughs, and Wukong reaches over you to swat him away.

He gives his brother a look laced with annoyance. “Stop that, they were only children children at the time–”

“I mean…” You trail off, glancing up at your friend to see his eyes practically bulging out of his head. All of them, in fact, shared the same look of disbelief. Even Ao Lie, who has been quietly picking at the grass beneath him, was almost staring into your soul.

All you can offer them is a shy smile. “You are right, Wukong, we were just kids…” The corner of your lips twitch, and you clear your throat. “…he may have liked me, and maybe I liked him, too. But it isn’t as though it matters anymore, they were just childish feelings. Even if he was still here, I am a buddhist monk, like the rest of you.”

“If it weren’t for you lot chastising me for it, I would have returned to my wife a long time ago.” Pigsy lets out a bark of laughter. “Wouldn’t you, as well?”

You take a moment before saying anything, playfully rolling your eyes and standing up. “I am going to find some more firewood, excuse me.”

Not waiting for a response, you turn to the woods to start gathering more wood. You aren’t entirely sure you will need more kindle for your flame, but it was getting much too hot in that seat. Any excuse for a walk in the cool night air is a welcome one.

Each of you have told numerous stories about each of your respective homes, you all enjoyed hearing about your friend’s life before meeting one another. Though, you guess all you’ve ever told them about was your life on Potalaka Mountain, so it makes sense they all seemed to be surprised you had another home. Still, you rarely ever think about back then, there isn’t much purpose in thinking about it.

Before you get too far, you hear the tang monk calling your name. Confused, you turn back to see Tripitaka hurriedly following after you. “Tripitaka?”

You pause long enough for the monk to catch up, the man glancing about at the shadows of the night. “It really is dark, I almost thought I wouldn’t catch up to you.” He laughs nervously, watching for movement from the corner of his eye.

“What are you doing out here?” You ask, and he turns back to face you.

“I thought I could help you.” He smiles, and you mirror the expression, albeit with a hint of confusion.

You turn to continue walking, the monk following behind. “Shouldn’t you have sent one of your disciples?”

“Perhaps, but I wanted to do it.” He responds. “Besides, I thought we could talk, too.”

“It sounds like you ‘thought’ of a lot of things.” You chuckle over his repeated use of the word.

The man shares your exhales quietly. “Yes, well I do tend to think a lot.” You glance back at him with a smile as he continues. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, slowing your pace when you find wood for the fire.

Tripitaka crouches down with you to start collecting the materials. “I may not be the most… perceptive of our friends,” you look back at him with a sarcastic smile. At least he can be self aware, “but you appear to be tense.”

You frown at his words, surprised. Are you tense? You do feel somewhat taut, but that might just be because he brought it up. “I think that was the first time you’ve ever mentioned your old home.” You stand as he continues. “I hope none of my disciples were prying too much.”

“It’s alright.” You smile, your voice light as you continue your walk. “It’s all in the past now.” Looking back, you see your friend following closely behind you.

His brows furrow while he readjusts his hold on his firewood. “If that is true, may I ask what happened?”

You stop, eyes focused on the forest before you. “What do you mean?”

You hear him let out an awkward laugh. “I know I complain about the troubles we face out on the road, and even though this pilgrimage is the most difficult thing I have ever done, I also dealt with my own grievances back home. It feels as though, maybe, you understand that feeling as well.”

It takes you a moment to respond, your gaze trailing to the forest floor as you take a long breath. “Perhaps, but I have dealt with it, so there is no need to worry. It–” Your eyes shut tight as you feel your voice almost crack, and you shake your head. “It was all a many years ago, hundreds really. Before you were even born.” You look back to offer him a smile, but the expression is not returned.

“But it wasn’t hundreds of years for you.” His words make you freeze, but you quickly shake it off. Even if he is right, it’s been well over a decade. You hardly even remember it. “I understand that you prefer to avoid these more sensitive topics, but if you ever feel like it would help to share, I am here. I’ve often found that when you ignore the past, it can still find ways to haunt you.”

“I am not haunted by my past.” You turn back to face the monk, surprising him slightly with your tone. Hearing the harshness in your voice, you quickly step back to take a breath. “I don’t think about that time too often, there’s no point in letting myself get caught up in feelings over something that was so long ago.”

He frowns, the look he gives you worried. “That does not sound like ‘dealing’ with it.”

“Well, it is.” You strain your smile a bit before turning. “The past is in the past, Tripitaka. Now, why don’t we collect some more firewood? Come on, there’s more over there.” Without giving him the chance to argue, you walk ahead to continue with your harvest, the monk eventually following to do the same.

A silence stretches over the two of you while you gather more fuel for the fire, and you find yourself glancing over to your friend every now and then. You appreciate his concern, it really is touching to know how much he cares. But you feel it isn’t needed. If anything, hearing the man voice his concerns only served to cause more stress.

Sure, there may be moments where you feel some grief. The nightmares still prod at your mind some nights, but the same would happen to anyone if they were in your position.

The less you dwell on it, the better. After all, it’s like you said. The past is in the past.

~~~~

The sun rises early the next morning, the summer heat quickly warming the surrounding land as you continue your journey. By midday, you and your friends arrive in the next kingdom on your route to the Buddha’s monastery.

It takes some time to navigate the roads within the walls of the kingdom before arriving in the palace. Before passing the gates of the palace, you perch on Tripitaka’s shoulder in your avian form. At this point, it’s become second nature to you whenever you enter a kingdom.

The process of recertifying Tripitaka’s travel documents tends to be easier when people believe there is only one human in his group of demonic disciples. It also doesn’t help that you do not possess any papers of your own, so putting on the guise of a dove was a much simpler solution.

After requesting an audience, Tripitaka is led into the palace walls with the rest of your friends. Your group is led through the halls of the finely decorated home of the king, and you find yourself watching servants and officials pass you from your position on the monk’s shoulder.

Pigsy huffs as they walk down a corridor. “Does anyone else smell that potent odour?” He asks, scrunching his face with a grimace. “It’s disgusting.”

Monkey scoffs at the question. “And here I thought that repulsive odour was coming from you.”

“Hey!” The younger brother whines, which only makes the simian snicker.

Despite their complaining, the smell doesn't bother you– likely due to their senses being so much more heightened as demons. Even without their level of smell, though, you catch sight of what may be the source.

The potential answer comes in the form of a man hurriedly walking past, cradling a bundle of purple flowers in a cloth. Their petals are lobed, almost hooded in shape. You almost want to frown, recognising the plant. Is that… monkshood?

What a bizarre flower to be carrying, and without any gloves? Sure, he has a cloth, but still. He seems to be in a rush… where might he be delivering those flowers?

Maybe it’s simple curiosity that pokes at you, but nonetheless you feel the need to satisfy your question. Taking off from Tripitaka’s shoulder, you follow the man with the flowers in hand. You make sure to stay close to the ceiling, hiding up high as you shadow the man.

He rushes through the halls, stopping only for a moment to hum to himself, then take another turn into a new corridor. You follow until he leads you to an open space within the palace, a fragrant aroma overtaking the scent of the monkshood he carries. Several species of flora greet you as the man walks down a stone path leading further into what appears to be a garden.

It is quite a large space, housing some plants you recognise along with some foreign ones you do not. They all share vibrant colours, some soaking in the warmth of the sun while others rest in the shade of tall trees. On the far side of the garden, a small pond is accompanied by a crimson-painted wooden bridge connecting the stone path from one end of the water to the other.

A man stands alone on the bridge, watching over the water. His robes are a deep blue, embroidered in white intricate patterns. His hair falls down his back, save for what is held in place by what looks to be a crown with a pin. Once the man with the flowers sees him, he rushes to meet him on the bridge.

“Ah, I thought you might be here.” The man bows in greeting while you perch on a tree just behind the pond, hidden within the leaves and branches. “For you, my Prince.” Prince, huh?

You see the royal look down at the flowers, his silence not offering much of a response. With the two men’s backs facing you, it’s difficult to gather much of a reaction until he speaks. “…Is this meant to be a joke?”

The deliverer sounds startled. “I am sorry?”

“Whose idea was this?” The prince throws the flowers to the ground, his voice low.

The man steps back at the gesture, holding his hands up in defence when the prince stands over him. “I-I am not sure, I was not given a name.”

The Prince lets out an angered huff, turning back to face the water. “…You may leave, get out of my sight.” You blink, a little put off by his dismissal of the one you followed here. The man seems more-so relieved at the words, quickly scurrying away once given permission.

What a rude way to react to flowers, even something like monkshood. It is strange, though, who would gift such a plant to a prince?

“What are we watching?” You jump at the voice next to you, letting out a squeak before looking up to find a familiar monkey demon watching the prince.

Calming your racing heart, you return to your human form to give the simian an annoyed look. “Wukong, what are you doing here?”

“I noticed you fly off and got curious.” He shrugs, his voice hushed as he glances back at you with a grin. He's clearly amused by your reaction. “Why are you following some flowers?”

You reply with a whisper, turning your attention back to the man on the bridge. “It’s monkshood. The entire plant is toxic, even touching it with your bare hands is enough to absorb the poisons through the skin.” You frown as you explain as the man leans against the railing of the bridge. What is he doing, sulking?

Why, it can’t be over the flowers, could it? He looked the same before the man upset him with the gift. “Sounds to me like a threat.” Wukong hums, and you feel your frown deepen.

There’s something else about him, but you aren’t sure what it is. This off feeling, one you can’t place. Something you can see, but just can’t reach.

You look back to respond to Wukong before something catches your eye. Farther back, past your tree, you notice movement in the shrubbery of the garden. A crouching figure hidden in the garden looks out over a tall bush of flowers, their eyes trained on the man on the bridge.

The bow in their hands makes your eyes widen, an arrow already notched on the string. You turn back to look at the prince, the man none the wiser to his stalker. The figure takes aim.

You immediately leap into action, turning back to your dove form for a split second to reach the prince before turning back. “Get down!” You tackle the man to the ground, shielding him with your body just as the arrow flies past. 

Taking your own bow, you nock an arrow and jump to shoot where you last saw the assailant. Another arrow flies by, and you duck down just as it lodges into the railing behind you. They’re covered too well, you can’t take proper aim before they’re able to shoot. You frown for a moment in thought before realising what to do.

Taking dove form, you fly into the air. You soar over the top of the tree you hid in before. The stalker looks out in confusion, seeming to have lost sight of you. You turn back with bow in hand, shooting at the attacker before they can tuck back into their place of hiding. Your arrow catches a pinch of their clothing, making them fall back as the arrow pins them by their shoulder to the ground.

Working swiftly, you jump from the tree and run to the attacker with another arrow already notched in your bow. However, when you get to their place of hiding, all that is left behind is their ripped clothing that’s still pinned down by your arrow. You scan the grounds, but whoever had been here, they are nowhere to be found now.

“Guards!” The prince calls from the bridge, and you rush to check on the man. Whether he was hurt or not, he must be shaken.

You run back to the bridge as the prince stands up, using the railing to support himself.  He turns to face you as you approach. “Are you alright, sir? Here, let me soothe your–” Before you can finish, your words get caught in your throat.

The prince looks back at you with wide eyes, eyes you could never forget. Your chest tightens, a strange constriction twisting at your heart. The features of his face, though older, are nearly unmistakable. You take a step back, convinced this is some trick of the mind. It can’t be, it’s impossible. The last time you saw those eyes…

“You there!” You both turn to the voice of a guard, several behind him approaching quickly. “Step away from the prince!”

Shoot. The guards run to you, but before they can do anything, you take to your avian form and fly off. What was that? How– that prince, he looked just… just like Da Jie. Maybe you are only seeing things, making connections where there are none.

 This is not what was supposed to happen. You didn’t want to get involved in anything, you were only curious! If the others hear you were chased away by palace guards, you will never hear the end of it from Sun Wukong–

Wait, where did Sun Wukong go?! He was in the tree with you, wasn’t he? He didn’t even help! What, did you imagine that, too?! 

Nothing is making sense right now. You just need to find the others and get away from here, maybe then you will be able to clear your head. You never should have separated from them in the first place.

It takes some time to reunite with your friends. Navigating the palace from the outside after following the man from inside proves to be a bit of a challenge, but in time you find them at the palace gates. Tripitaka is pacing by Ao Lie while Sandy stands between Pigsy and Wukong.

The Monkey King rolls his eyes at his brother, seemingly in the midst of an argument. “Just keep your mouth shut tomorrow, pig.”

“There she is.” Sandy points up in your direction as you fly down. You turn back as you land, and Tripitaka is the first to approach you.

He takes hold of your shoulders. “Where have you been? We have to find a place to stay for the night.”

Stay? You look back at your friends in confusion. “What, why?”

“Bajie offended the king.” Wukong leans over Tripitaka’s shoulder, much to Pigsy’s irritation.

“He offended me first!” The pig demon argues, gesturing back towards the palace. “He called me ugly.”

“He said he’d never seen a face like yours before.” Sandy reminds him, stepping forward.

Pigsy snorts in annoyance at his younger brother. “That’s another way of calling me ugly, it was all in his tone!”

Tripitaka looks back at his disciples with a sigh before turning back to you. “In all honesty, this king seems to be more, uh… sensitive. I was in the middle of apologising on behalf of Bajie when someone came into the room saying there was something urgent that had to be brought to his attention. They had us leave and said to come back tomorrow.” Oh.

Oh…

Wukong narrows his eyes at you as your face shifts, the circumstances brought to the king clear to you. The monkey demon hums aloud. “You would not happen to know something about this urgent matter, hmm, Dove?”

“…Um…” You glance at the ground, then back to your friends. Tripitaka is slack-jawed, Wujing’s eyes have never been so open in shock. An ever-growing grin stretches across Wukong’s face while Pigsy lets out a bellowing laugh.

“And here I thought Brother Sun and I were the only troublemakers.” He cackles, and you feel your face grow warm at the notion.

Your hands rest at your hips. “I did not cause any trouble! I just… I was curious and– ugh!” Your head droops down, everything is just happening too fast. “I need a second to unravel my thoughts. Can I explain after we’ve found a place to sleep for the night?”

Tripitaka frowns, taking a second of silence before nodding. “Very well, we should go.” At his word, your group leaves the palace grounds in search of a place to stay the night.

While looking, you opt to stay in avian form. It is likely better not to be seen in public while staying here now. You can’t be sure that the prince understood you were there to help, it isn’t as though you stuck around to explain yourself. Running off was probably even more incriminating in those guards' eyes.

You eventually find a post house to stay the night in. Once inside, your friends find the hall your rooms are in and you resume your human form. Wukong is grinning as you turn to face your friends. “I thought you were just following some pretty flowers, how did you manage to cause such a ruckus?”

“I did no such thing.” You send him an icy glare before backtracking. “I mean, I did do something, but I was not the cause!” The Monkey King crosses his arms in amusement, the others sharing a confused look.

With a sigh, you start over. “I was in the palace gardens when I saw someone was in danger. I saved the man being attacked, but his assailant got away.”

Sandy hums at your story. “So, you thwarted an assault?”

“I think so?” Your brows furrow as you replay the encounter with the attacker in your head. “The man called for the guards and I flew away once he was safe with them. I only hope they didn’t assume I was running because I was guilty.”

“If that man you saved knew you were there to help, then he likely would have told them.” Tripitaka does his best to soothe your concerns, and you do your best to believe him.

“Yes… still, it might be better if I stay here when you go back tomorrow. To avoid any more confusion.” You smile sheepishly, embarrassed over getting involved in this mess in the first place. At least you were able to save him, that man…

“You may be right.” The man smiles with a shake of his head. “We should get some rest. I will see you all in the morning.” 

With Tripitaka’s dismissal, everyone goes into their rooms. All except Monkey, who insists he needs no sleep. You enter your room, finding a bed against the wall and a closed window opposite of the door. Finally now with a moment to breathe, you lay back on your bed with a deep sigh.

The moment you close your eyes, you see his face. You must have just imagined it, how could he look so similar to Jie? No, it must have been your mind playing tricks on you. Wukong doesn’t seem to have known about your little detour, your head must be elsewhere today. It wasn’t him, how could it be?

Even so… you don’t want to go back. Staying back will be better. Tripitaka can have his papers sorted in the morning, and you can all be out of here before noon. This will all be nothing more than some bizarre daydream.

~~~~

Knock knock.

You turn when you hear a knock at your window, the morning light trickling in while in the midst of brushing your hair. “Monkey?”

“Ready for a rude awakening?” He cocks one brow up from his seat on your window sill, arms crossed and one leg crossed over the other.

The Great Sage always knows the best way to greet a person. “Good morning to you, too.” You offer a smirk as you finish with brushing your hair.

“Two palace officials came into the post house this morning.”

The brush drops from your hand, and before the demon can blink, you’re pulling him into your room by the lapels. “What?!”

Wukong is completely unbothered by your panic, laying limp in your arms with that same smirk. “I noticed them heading towards yours and Master’s room. If they haven’t come to you yet, they’re likely talking to him.”

Your head whips back to the door, and you drop your friend in your rush to get to it. He grunts when he hits the floor, but you pay him no mind. Opening the door as quietly as you can, you peek your head out to see Wukong was telling the truth.

Two men stand at Tripitaka’s door, the monk facing them with a nervous expression. “We were told that you entered this post house with a bird that turned into a woman. Would you be family?” One of them asks, your heart dropping to your stomach.

Tripitaka nods hesitantly. “We are travelling companions… may I ask what business you have with her?” He glances over to your door from the side of his eye, his brows shooting up once he sees you poking your head out.

The other official follows his line of sight, his eyes brightening once he catches sight of you. “Ah, you there.” You glare at the monk, who shoots back an apologetic look. “You must be the archer from the palace gardens yesterday, correct?”

Reluctantly, you step out into the hall as they approach, trying your best not to look nervous. “Uh, yes, I am.” There isn’t much point in running, it’s not as if these two would pose any problems for you if it came down to a fight. These two are innocents, though, and you don’t want to cause any more problems than you already have.

All you have to do is explain yourself. “I hope there was no confusion with what happened yesterday, I was only–”

“You saved our Prince Jian Yu from an assassination attempt.” The first official smiles, making you blink a bit in surprise. So they do know? That’s one good thing, at least.

Tripitaka looks between you and the two men in surprise. “That was the prince?!”

The second official turns back to face Tripitaka with enthusiasm. “Yes! The prince was quite stirred by her courage, nobody has seen him in such high spirits in a long while. We have come on his behalf to request the woman’s hand in marriage.”

The silence that follows his words fills the hall as you and Tripitaka share an expression of utter bafflement.

The monk trips over his words, suddenly forgetting how to speak. “I-I-I am sorry. D-Did I m-mishear you? Did y– Did you say m-marriage?”

“Yes.” The man smiles, too content to notice the horror that invites itself into your stomach, or your other companions exiting their rooms. “The king has already sent for a matchmaker, and would like for the woman to return so that she may be made presentable. After all the arrangements are made and the two are married, your papers will be recertified and you can be on your way with the rest of your journey.”

Tripitaka lets out a nervous chuckle as Monkey comes out of your room. “Ah… but, you see, she is actually meant to be on this journey with us.” He tries to explain, only for the two men to look back at each other with a frown.

“Surely you and your demon disciples will be alright on your own, no?” The first one reasons, gesturing to your friends who seem to be confused over what is being discussed. 

Other than Wukong, who you are sure has been eavesdropping through your door this whole time. “I am sure she will enjoy the comforts of the palace in comparison to braving the wilderness every night.” Can they stop talking as though you aren’t standing next to them?!

“She gladly accepts!” Everyone turns as Wukong gives them their answer, pushing you towards them as your jaw goes slack from shock.

Everyone looks to your simian friend, the demon grinning proudly at each bug-eyed face that stares back at him. Never have you ever sent such a sharp glare to a person in your life. “Wukong?”

The damage, however, is already done. “Excellent! If you would join us, miss, we will take you back to the palace with us. You will be shown where you will be staying for the time being once we arrive.” The first official practically radiates with joy, taking your one hand while his partner takes the other.

“Wait, hold on–”

“Prince Jian Yu will be thrilled to hear you have accepted.” The other official hums, seemingly ecstatic at your nonconsensual acceptance to the offer.

You look back at your friends as you're dragged away, Wukong snickering as though this were some amusing joke. You glare with a burning anger you have not felt in ages, the familiar fire of hating that stupid simian rising up through the depths of your soul.

Immortal or not, you will find a way to skin that monkey.

[satoru-is-the-way]

Spoilers for Avatar 2!!

Avatar! Rick Quaritch x Navi reader

"Given Enough "

Series Master List

Tag list: @the-wanderer-2022 @zootsutra @anyzandy   @kneelingforvillains @dioriez @mylovelyreblogs @dinobae-replyacc @voodoogoul @freshmoneyalmondathlete @thedumboneforsomereason @world-dominating-kitty @scarletpines

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Angst, Mentions of Dead, Killing in a sort, depression, and maybe some more not sure I'll add it I find one!

Also lowkey not proofread lmao. ..Also this does Include Mayan language and such because me trying to represent my peeps. Love you fam...but low key had to add the flying bison 😭 y'all don't @ me

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 -Flying is lesson one

Quaritch wakes up only to meet (Y/n) beautiful eyes gazing down at him. Yesterday felt like a dream. He never imagined himself to be in this position. But anything to make Jake Sully pay for his sins. “Lik'en,” She said. He looked confused at her. “Get up.” (Y/n) repeats in a more annoyed tone. “We will have to teach you our language. You are like a baby. You know nothing of our ways.” This earned a simple eye roll.

“So I assume we will be going over the language barrier today?” He stood up slowly standing a whole foot taller than (Y/n). Mastering the language would be the hardest part; everything else he figures would be easy. In the marine core, they trained him for many scenarios, but the likes of Pandora had not been one. But how hard could it be? “Unless you have something else in mind, princess.” He grins a flirty tone. (Y/n) looked down. 

“No, first we eat and then we ride.” She comments. Quaritch follows her. She tossed him a rather odd fruit-like food. It resembles a dragon fruit but on a much larger scale. “Lesson one is flying.” Quaritch chuckled.

“I already have that down with my Ikran.” He bit down on the fruit taking in its sweet flavor. He truly liked Pandor and could not wait until it belong to them. 

(Y/n) chuckled also eating her fruit as they walked through the village. “No, I am talking about another animal. Bigger, stronger, and faster than any Ikran. We use the Ikran for many tasks. But  Kamimaljuyú has another way of flight. They are part of our clan and have been since the dawn of time.” She called out for her Ikran who soon arrived along with Quaritchs. “We have many sub-villages in our large domain. However, these creatures live farther out to the east.”

“SISTER!” Called (Y/n)’s younger brother landing beside her Ikran. “The Mamífero Ka’anal’s have just given birth hurry!” Quaritch has never seen anyone this happy before. He took a mental note that these Mamífero Ka’anals could be a weak point in this clan. He nods over to (Y/n) and they both take off flying deeper into the clan’s territory. Quaritch knew he hit the jackpot landing here. If he could mate with the Princess all of this land, people, and warriors could be his to command. “Hurry before the children find their soul animal.” Her brother, Balam, smiled. Quaritch’s eyes widen and his ears go back once the large creatures come into sight.

The humans had very little information about this creature. He could remember the small paragraph written over these ‘Sky Bison’ in human terminology. They were large animals of the sky, they belong to the air clans, every ten years they could be seen on migration, and they would disappear into the mountains never to be seen again. They land next to other Ikrans. He noticed many children possibly around 9 years old gather at the edge with food in hand.

“What the hell are they?” He asked. (Y/n) smiled softly seeing the baby Mamífero Ka’anal’s fly around their mothers. 

“They are the Mamífero Ka’anals Great warriors in the sky. Or as your people might call them Sky Bison’s as they resemble an earth creature. They are part of our family.”

“Why are the children here?” He asked, walking closer toward the edge. An animal like this in a war would be unstoppable. 

“In our tribe when children turn a certain age they are given more responsibility and utilities before they reach adulthood. Such as this. New Mamífero Ka’anal’s are brought here. The child and the Mamífero Ka’anal bond for life. Much like the Ikran, they will never have another owner. But if their companion dies they can ever fly again.”

“What do you mean by never flying again?” He asked watching the newborns fly down to the Navi children. They were so small and innocent, weak. An easy target. (Y/n)’s ears lay back thinking of the sad times a Navi died before their sky bison. “Did…I say something wrong?” He touched her hand. 

“No, it is a very sad time. We bond with the Mamífero Ka’anal for life. It is more than a connection to an Ikran. They become part of our family, we are friends for life on a spiritual level. If we are in danger they can sense it and vice versa. Our bond with them is sacred and blessed by Eywa.  If a Mamífero Ka’anal dies we can never choose another. But if a Navi dies before the Mamífero Ka’anal’s…” (Y/n) paused, “The animal gives up their will to live. It’s cruel and unfair how they work differently. They will lose all motivation to fly, live, and be happy. They will not eat or drink. Normally to avoid the torture of starvation we perform a ritual in front of Eywa and kill the animal in a humane way before we return them to her. Then they can live in eternal happiness alone alongside their companion.” (Y/n) whipped the tears which fell from her large (e/c) orbs. He felt bad not for the animals or Navi but for seeing her cry. The colonel shook his head trying to stop feeling sympathy for the enemy. Her beauty meant nothing in the end because his goal is to kill Jake’s whole family. 

“Hey, Princess, don't cry. In the end, they are happy, right? They don't suffer anymore. They are returned to their family.” He tried to comfort her which seemed to work. “So…do I get one?”

“Yes, but there are very few adults. Sadly in some cases when a Navi child does not make it to age, there are some who are left over. It is harder to bond at an older age. Mainly catching them but I can help you with that.” She clears her throat. “First be thinking of a unique call.”

“So these Bison respond to a certain call?”

“Yes, they do. Watch and listen.” (Y/n) cupped her hand over her mouth calling out to her bison (this sound). The colonel listened and looked to see the bison come for their master. Soon the large creature called back, flying towards the floating land. “Hurry!” She yelled running towards the edge of the floating rock before jumping off. 

“Fucking hell!” He yelled before following the Navi princess. How did she land smoothing on top of the Bison? "SHIT!" He yelled, landing with a thud on the animal's back. She laughed and walked up onto the large creature's head connecting her queue to him. He gripped onto the bison's fur. 

"Áramà! My beautiful girl! I want you to meet someone." (Y/n) smiled as the bison flew down to the ground below. 

"Was jumping off the cliff necessary?" 

"For dramatic purposes…Yes it was." She laughed jumping down. Quaritch follows examining the animal. He looked for weak spots. This creature would be a nightmare to fight. "Áramà this is Rick Quaritch." (Y/n) said. The Bison leaned over sniffing the Colonel. 

"Hello there. Áramà is it?" He was supposed to treat this animal like a native. It seemed intelligent. Rick noticed the silent communication Áramà had with (Y/n) maybe their bond is on a spiritual level. "So girl where is the other at?" He asked reaching up to pet the female Mamífero Ka’anal. She looked at Rick before glancing at (Y/n) making a few sounds that sent the Navi into laughter. "What's so funny?"

(Y/n) chuckled," She said she cannot wait to watch you fail." The colonel looks at the bison and huffs. 

---

Currently (Y/n) , Rick, Balam, and Áramà are above an unclaimed bison. "So Balam , she is your sibling?" 

"Yes I am younger though. Now focus. You have to drop down and make the connection quick." Balam instructed. "Or else it will not work. Just try and think gentle happy thoughts when connecting. Calm and command the Mamífero Ka’anal. When you are done I will help you fly him." Balam said. Quaritch nods looking at (Y/n).

“What do you say, give me a kiss for good luck, princess?” This caused (Y/n) to smirk and move closer lips near his. Quaritch felt his heart race ear going back.

“I said dont call me princess.” She then pushed him off. Quaritch yelped, falling off Áramà and turning around to land on top of his bison. It was quick how much the beast began to thrash around in an attempt to get Quaritch off his back.

“Ts'a a wóoli' yéetel beet le vínculo!”(Hurry and make the bond!) (Y/n) yelled.

“WHAT.THE.HELL.DOES.THAT.MEAN?” He called back. This was much harder than some Ikran. This beast had strength. Quaritch refused to let an animal make a fool of him. He needed to focus on the mission. With one mistake it would all crumble. With a loud war cry, he leaped forward and connected his queue to the Mamífero Ka’anal. The bull instantly settles down. “That’s it, boy.”

Balam dropped down chuckling,” Not bad for a human. I am surprised you didn’t die.” (Y/n) soon lowers her bison so they are riding side by side. 

“Now give him a name.” She smiled.

“How about Pup?” He asked, causing the siblings to chuckle.

“I like it. Now come on. Let’s teach you how to fly. They are much different from an Ikran.” (Y/n) smiled. 

---

It was now nightfall and Balam returned to the village on his bison leaving Quaritch and (Y/n) alone. The pair lands on the ground side by side before descending from their bison. “So how did you feel about lesson one?” She asked, nudging his shoulder. The colonel had trouble admitting he enjoyed today. Enjoyed being with the Navi princess. Also, her brother was not so bad, her complete opposite. 

“I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy myself. Today was a different one for sure. Pup here is rather pleasant. It is so odd how…I understand him even without being bonded I feel him. Hear him. Know what he knows.” Rick did not know Navi could truly be this emotional. Have connections not only with their forest but animals. 

“Well, then tomorrow we are going to dive deeper into more traditions and our way. Including our language which you desperately need to learn.” 

“So then I get my kiss?”

“Tch, in your dreams.” She blushed.

“I am counting on it, princess.”

Chapter 3

[quartzhearted]

Knowing your King's, even if formerly, birthday was an easy enough task. Even out in Lapis's middle of nowhere type village had it been something just about anybody could tell you, and so as the days tick down, getting closer and closer, the date echoes fiercely in her mind.

Giving something to Diamant had been enough of an event to work up to, but given the rocky start Lapis had had with Morion since reuniting in Fódlan? It's even more nerve-wracking to be honest. But when she thinks of Alcryst making it abundantly clear that he wanted to meet her family and be proper to them...

...Well, to be honest, Lapis wanted to do the same for his. And so she vows to herself to push everything before aside and try and do this birthday right!

“ Your Majesty! ”  Lapis greets him, ramrod straight.  “ Um, happy birthday! I gotcha a gift. Hope it works for you. ”

She holds out the modestly wrapped present for him. As a measure of precaution, she explains it:

“ I made you a bunch of different remedies and fit them into a container that should be easy to carry no matter where you go. ”  The box is compact enough to fit into any bag, and inside the box were different compartments to keep its contents divided up cleanly.  “ 'Course, you can use the container for more than just remedies so long as it's small enough, like snacks or coins, but... ”

Though Lapis was known for being crafty, the box wasn't meant to be the star of the gift. 

“ Now that you're back, I'm sure your sons worry the world for you, ”  she admits her motive.  “ And, um, that includes me too now! But a warrior's always gonna go out and fight to protect what they love. No getting around that. So I won't stop you. But I thought if you had different medicines and poultices ready on hand, that'd help make sure you get back home. ”

If she could ease the concerns of her two princes, then all would be well. She knows a warrior's heart as she does a child's, and so she put her all into making sure she made the most effective remedies she could with what herbs and flowers she could find.

“ If you need a guide for what each one does, I'm more than happy to help! I've used them all before myself, so I can vouch for how well they work, mmhm. Shouldn't be any problems there. ”

as if morion's birthday couldn't get any better, lapis comes to him with her own gift---stiff as a board, sure, but she's here! ( he really needs to find a way to get her to relax around him... )

" good to see ya, lapis! " morion smiles, patting her shoulder. " though, really, you can just call me ' morion ' now. ' mister morion ' if you just can't live without the titles, but c'mon! we battled together! " anyone who can hold their own in a chain of battles that intense ( nevermind the absolute WALLOPING she'd given that shade back in the gold round, PHEW! ) is someone morion would gladly be equals with. " but we'll talk about that some other time. what's this, now? "

as lapis explains the purpose of her gift, morion can't help his expression going soft. sure, she's a worrier---make that three that he knows---but she knows a thing or two about morion's heart. acknowledging that he's not just gonna sit around and twiddle his thumbs is encouraging enough, but that she made something to assuage all the worry... goodness. now THERE'S a present.

morion feels warm. " well, now, lapis, that's very kind of you. " he pops open the box for a quick look. sure enough, remedies and poultices of all kinds sit in neat little sections, awaiting their use. " hardheaded as i am, i do get all sorts of nicks and scrapes. lots of times i don't have an elixir handy, and it drives the boys nuts---this is perfect. not just for me, but for them, too. you really do think five steps ahead. "

sigh. he sure is glad his sons have such dependable retainers.

...

...

wait a minute.

" ...whatd'ya mean, ' includes you now too '?? "

[crypticandmachiavellianaugustine]

In my defence, I have none

Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra

Summary: Elain deals with some ugly feelings in an unhealthy way. Elain centric.

Warnings: ANGST, hurt with only a tiny sprinkle of comfort, self destructive tendencies, mentions of alcohol, suicide ideation, negative self talk, toxic Elain.

Might delete this later, honestly I am not sure if I like it. I was writing a soft fic about them going on little dates but then this monstrosity appeared in my mind like a prophetic fever dream. English is not my first language so don't think too badly of me.

___

Elain Archeron was wandering around Velaris, emptiness in her heart.

She didn't know if what was plaguing her mind was a vision with some sort of significance; or if it was her imagination and the representation of the foul thoughts she had been having. Decaying overgrown gardens.

Seven months of courting. Seven months of letting warmth, like she had never experienced before, into her life. Seven months of Lucien Vanserra filling most of her days. Until her mind betrayed what they both had been nurturing between them.

She had thought of drastic ideas, the sort of things that had only occurred to her right after she had been made, when she had been uttering broken sentences up in the House of Wind.

Her name, as much as she tried to forget it, continued to form in her head as well as the hushed and soft voice of her mate as he talked about her.

And Elain's own voice, a malignant version of it that only spoke in her thoughts had whispered words of irrational jealousy in her ear. Even the seed of doubt could grow big and strong if her own hands tucked it gently in the land of her mind.

So she had avoided him, after speaking kind words of comfort for his loss. Not following him when Rhysand had sent him away to perform his duties as emissary. Making herself scarce every time he returned to Velaris, in a more effective way than before they had started courting.

Walking on the banks of the Sidra she wondered if anyone even thought that her sweet and forgettable self was capable of nurturing such dark concepts in her pretty little head. Elain had been a doll her whole life, she could disappear in the role until everyone simply believed that despair could not touch her in any way.

Was she something more than a beautiful thing? Had she ever been anything more?

As a human she had been a toy to dress up for her mother. And later in life, when she lived in the cottage dirt poor with her remaining family, had she been a doll even then? When men from the village watched her rapaciously, as if she was the defenseless little mouse she often felt like. She had felt their words sticking to her porcelain skin like mud. As if they had the right to taint her days, because she was in misery and with a father who could as well not exist, as if her circumstances made her a toy to break for fleeting amusement.

Then her life had turned upside down for the third time and she had given her heart and hopes to a man who would crush them under his boots not long after. After a king for an experiment had boiled her bones alongside her older sister's and forced them to become completely different creatures. The one offence she had been able to take revenge for.

Greysen had thrown her away. Azriel had called her a mistake. And Lucien... He was her mate but he already had his great love and it was not her.

Elain could not tell how many stab wounds her heart could take anymore, how her heart was still beating and not decaying like a bird fallen from its last flight. Would the end of things even gift a weightless flight to a small, disappearing thing?

Cold rain was falling on the city of starlight, a small kindness from the sky, a mask for her bitter tears.

Pride prevented her from walking to his apartment and look for comfort in his arms, pretending that her sorrow did not exist. That would have been easy and safe. Gentle, not jealous, not capricious, not possessive. Just like the Elain everyone saw and loved. No, the rain and the cold were small luxuries she would allow herself, to wash away her most abominable feelings in the anonymity of a city that was taking shelter from an unpleasant autumn evening.

It felt liberating and devastating, to know that no-one would come looking for her. She was the only resident of the Town House, she had avoided her mate for two weeks, her sisters were living their lives with their families. And when the morning would come, after a night of rain, she would tend to her poor garden and to her beaten heart.

Elain would be alright in the end, she would go back to her polite and cheerful ways. A few hours would be enough to swallow the bile of knowing that not even for her mate she was the most important. The one.

She felt ashamed of her jealousy against a female who had died tragically long before she was even born, but even all of her self awareness could do nothing against the sickness in her stomach at the very thought of her.

Elain felt like a child standing in front of all of her suffocating thoughts. Would anyone even understand why she felt that way, except for maybe her sisters? She was a high fae but her soul was still so terribly human. She still resonated like a mortal, all chaos and uncertainty. And there, in darkness and rain she felt as if she was still just a girl, living in a humble cottage, looking up at the sky feeling small and lost, wondering what will become of her.

Maybe if she found refuge in a tavern and drank herself empty, like Nesta had done in the past, she would understand something that she was clearly missing.

Elain needed something to stop her mind, or she would be forced to claw her heart out of her chest to make it stop hurting.

If she really wanted to be petty, she thought, she could always disappear. Run to the Continent and get lost in shimmering old cities. Would anyone look for her then?

Shame came again, taking her breath away and forcing her to lean her forehead against the cold black stone of a building. How could her pettiness make sense for such unwarranted fragility? She wished to be different, to be the actually kind person everyone always saw. Maybe if she had been different she would not walk the city in that weather, she would simply be with her mate in that rainy night exactly like the first one they had spent together, two months before.

Elain wished for a life of expressing her darkest feelings instead of allowing them to devour her from inside. She wished to not be a proper lady, to live like a wild creature in the woods, to show up at a ball where nobody knew her and be unapologetically herself.

For months she had acted like herself. Laughing wholeheartedly and talking without restraint, relinquishing in the fact that Lucien was her mate, starting to understand that he was meant to be her person, the one always at her side unconditionally. Her perfect other half.

She could easily ruin everything, make sure that between them there would be no winners. Hurt him like his confession, meant for sharing a full of agony page of his life, had hurt her. Would he even see it coming, from her? Probably not, he had been so trusting in sharing his story, handing her his heart and breaking hers in the same moment. Elain did not wish to live with a ghost from the past, she did not want to be the one he settled for and if renouncing to him would give her that kind of peace she was ready to consider it.

It was childish, she was aware, to think like that, to whim for a scenario she had made up. She had been simmering in her mind long enough to convince herself that if the other female would have still been alive, her mate, the one who belonged to her, would have chosen Jesminda and not even tried to pursue that bond so rare and sacred for his people. In another life Elain would have been unwanted even by the one who should always long for her no matter the circumstances. Maybe deciding to acknowledge him all those months before had been a mistake, maybe she was not ready yet and maybe she would never be mature enough to not feel betrayed for what did not happen.

Elain was exhausted, cold was settling into her bones and laying her to sleep like a snow covered flower.

Purchasing a bottle of wine and drinking it while wandering around seemed perfectly squalid and totally appropriate for the occasion. So she did. Wander and drink, thinking about all of the times she had bitten her tongue instead of saying what was going on in her mind, what kind of life was that?

In the morning she would go back, to the place she was calling home and to her quietude, after allowing herself the luxury of being inadequate for a little while. In the morning Elain would make something beautiful, to force life to be worth living again. If she had to perform then the world needed to perform for her as well.

At dawn she would be frivolous and soft for her audience and allow them to make anything they wanted of her. Elain the naive sister of the High Lady and the Valkyrie. The foolish gardener who existed on the periphery of everything as if she was already too old to live. The silly baker who, along with her pastries, often gave away pieces of herself for free.

And his heart, thunderous in her ears, would become a tolerable companion again. Soon she would gather enough courage to be in his presence and not viciously strike to kill. At the end she did have something in common with her sharpest sister. Until then she would retrace her steps to find where her damage came from, why was she so sweet and so vindictive.

As the rain started to hit her harder with its glacial drops Elain found shelter under a porticus, cold stone becoming the only bed she felt like she deserved at the moment. Would they send her away for being the cause of so much shame in only one night?

Anger flared up in her heart, inexorably directed at herself, at her family, at her mate and at his lost love. Chucking her bottle of wine against one of the pillars had felt good for a moment, Elain had never allowed herself to express anger in such a way. Even when some shards of glass flew back to her, scratching her skin, she continued to feel numb. That was what heartbreak did to an unwise girl, it made other kinds of pain disappear.

Sliding on the floor again, not minding the street's dust tarnishing her dress, Elain felt empty enough to fall into something similar to sleep, his heart tormenting her still. It felt as if the highs of alcohol were still clouding her mind when someone picked her up, the familiar rhythm of his heart now beating directly into her ear. Elain didn't bother to open her eyes. Maybe if she ignored him, his presence would turn out to be just a dream and she would be left alone to deal with her thoughts in any way she deemed necessary. Maybe the feeling of winnowing away and the warm lights of candles were only her imagination. Maybe the scent of cinnamon, books and apples of his apartment was just a deception from her weary mind.

And still Elain felt him lay her gently on the couch and walk away, the sound of flowing water coming from the other side of his home.

She laid there, pain and shame turning even the simple action of breathing uncomfortable. As she slowly opened her eyes, Elain found her mate observing her, the sorrow on his face clear as day.

Lucien seemed perfectly composed as he silently cried. She wanted to rage. Anger and disgust, those were the emotions she had expected to read in his expression; for her irrational jealousy and for her insensitivity. She did not want his tears nor his pity. Once again she contemplated doing the unexpected by ruining everything without an ounce of hesitation or regret. Elain did not speak as he cleaned the scratches she had caused by carelessly tossing away her wine bottle, nor did she react when he healed them all with a gentleness that was infuriating. She did not utter a single word as he carried her to the steaming bathtub on the other end of his apartment and set her down in the water after reverently taking off her the, by then, unsalvageable dress.

A few weeks prior they had chatted away and laughed in that bathtub together, as the sunlight, a rare occurrence in the Night Court, shone through the windows carrying a promise of tranquility.

Now there were no words or smiles, just silence and his hands gently washing her hair. Elain felt like crying as he poured warm water on her hair and back, the cold that had settled in her bones beginning to ease up. A sob escaped her lips as she whispered.

"Are you angry at me?" It was a question she had asked a countless amount of times during her life. And after Greysen had thrown her away, that sequence of words had become habitual on her lips.

"No," he whispered back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She looked away, finding it almost impossible to believe.

"Please don't ever do this again, I would not be able to bear it," Lucien continued, his lips still pressed against her head.

"Your feelings had been devastating tonight, my lady. I had felt them all. Nothing that happened before I came to you matters. Nothing is more than you. You are my everything, don't ever doubt it again".

The pain in his voice was palpable, a stark contrast with his warm hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Elain could not hold back her tears anymore, starting to sob softly and continuing until she was tucked away in the safety of his arms, wearing his clothes, surrounded by his scent. Laying on his bed and not on the cold stone she had planned to sleep on just a few hours prior. Still there was a part of her that continued to exist restless, unfamiliar with the concept of peace and wary of it. In the morning she would be herself again and he would spend the rest of their long lives proving her everyday that she was his to cherish, to unconditionally love. His heart would always belong in her hands.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

More of little bat!mom !!!????

When you slipped into the dining hall to eat, a table of male agents near the door lowered their voices just slightly and made a conscious effort not to look at you.

Two days ago, there had been... an incident with a male agent. One that looked at you and thought you were fair game. He'd tried to prey on the cult programming. Capitalizing on your need to feel safe. He hadn't made it far, but. Far enough that when he cornered you and you were frightened enough to scream, the Rangemaster. A surly old man with a grey beard and dark eyes- who looked like a grizzly bear who'd been taught to walk on his hind legs- had put the other agent in the medical wing.

Since then, you'd hidden in your room. Not even answering the door for Abbie. Or any of the other female agents that had been given responsibilities to care for and train you.

They breathed a small sigh of relief when Agent Cooper walked through the door behind you.

They can't hear the conversation. You seem to be telling her you wanted to do something. And Cooper was listening intently, smiling a little at whatever it was you had held in your hand. _____

Cooper took your hand on the other side and squeezed gently. She had little sisters in her life before. They'd driven her nuts. She's hated having to take care of them. But. That was before the family fractured. Now, she'd have given anything to have them steal her clothes. Or wake her up too early for breakfast.

So now, holding your too warm little hand as you walked over to talk to James, the grouch ass rangemaster, she wanted to protect you.

"James?" Cooper said clearing her throat. James sat by himself. Reading between bites of food. And when he heard tiny footfalls and Cooper's soft voice he looked up frowning.

"What?" he growled.

Cooper frowned at him when you flinched away from him, ready to strike but James softened, just slightly. "76 wanted to give you something," Cooper said, explaining for you.

"What-" James broke off when a small hand thrust out with something in its fist. And reflexively, James held out a massive paw. Some long buried, primal instinct to do with children and villages roaring to life when he realized how very tiny you were up close. And just how easy it would have been for the adults in your life- for that scum bag two days ago to hurt you.

And when a bracelet- with braided thread and tiny wooden beads. Made big enough to fit his thick wrists- fell into his out stretched hand, all he can do is stare at it for a second.

"Thank you," you murmur. You don't make eye contact. You don't look at him at all. Eyes focused on the table. Like you're afraid of him- James is used to people being frightened of him. But. This is different.

"You don't have to let anyone hurt you," he said feeling lame. And before he can think of anything else- anything better- to say, your hand slips out of Cooper's and you're gone. Slipping through the nearest exit door.

And as Cooper followed you, James watched. Before looking down at the bracelet you'd put in his hand and slipping it onto his wrist. Smiling just a little. It had been 20 years since anyone had remembered his birthday. And he knew he wasn't going to take it off- even if you couldn't have known.

[stargazeraldroth]

Balanceswap: A Bittersweet Reunion

Summary: An event that takes place in my Balanceswap AU. After running away from the self-proclaimed Destroyer, Dream seeks out his twin brother. Though the two are glad to see each other after so many centuries, the reunion isn't quite as pleasant as Dream had been hoping for. At least Nightmare seems to be happy... maybe a little too happy... and Dream has Mental Health Problems (TM).

Warnings: Platonic yandere character, mental health issues.

Word Count: Around 4,281 words.

Dream wasn't sure if he was going to regret this plan or not.

He knew his life was far from perfect. He'd been aware of that fact ever since he was a child, living under the shade of the Tree of Feelings. Although life had never been anywhere near perfect for him, he enjoyed it regardless. Sure, some moments were harder than others, but he needed to keep going. That's what he's been telling himself since his days in the village, when he would get faced with hurtful words and thrown objects simply for existing. And it's what he still told himself now, when he was constantly on the move, hopping from one place to the next.

Dream looked up from the table, his hand coming to a halt. Everything was still quiet in the tiny, rundown apartment they'd moved into, save for noises coming from outside its thin walls. It wasn't like anyone would be coming by, anyway. This part of the town had been largely vacant for a while, from what Ink could gather. They would be safe here for a few days, assuming there weren't any unexpected searches from his brother's forces. It wasn't likely, given that this was a predominantly negative AU, but... they'd been caught off-guard before. And, from Ink had told him, Nightmare could be very, very persistent in his searches.

Nightmare...

He hadn't really seen his twin ever since that fateful day. Back when he was so naive and trusting, despite his own hardships. He still remembered it as though it was yesterday; how Nightmare told him to pick his favorite apple from the Tree, and even helped him reach the branch to do so. That same apple, black with purple undertones, now resided in his ribcage, concealed from the world. The last Black Apple remaining from the Tree's branches, just as the last Golden Apple resided in Nightmare's body. They had both changed so much since they were children.

Nightmare was now a prominent, highly influential member of the greater Multiverse. A high-ranking member of an organization that was simply referred to as The Council. Or, rather, that's what Ink referred to it as. Dream didn't know if it had a different, more official name. But regardless of what it was called, it was an incredibly important group in the Multiverse. It was significant enough for the Protector of the AUs to be involved with it, too, even if he technically wasn't an official member. But beyond that, Nightmare also had a group of his own. From what Ink told him and the bits he was able to gather from old newspapers, they worked to bring relief to those who were suffering. That was the simple version of it, anyway. He wondered... if Nightmare was able to move on from his bitterness regarding the village and its people.

Dream... wasn't sure how he had changed, but he knew he had to have. Even if it was something small and insignificant, he had to have changed at least a little bit. But maybe his changes weren't for the better, either. He didn't know if he was considered a criminal or not, but given his close association with Ink, it was reasonable to assume he had some kind of bounty. He hadn't done anything wrong, but... it seemed even existing was a crime when it came to him. Nightmare would tell him that it was only because mortals were stupid and didn't understand his importance, but even so...

Once he was done with his letter, he read it over with what lighting he could get from the moon. Everything seemed right... he just hoped Ink wouldn't be too upset with him when he woke up in the morning. Setting down the pencil, he grabbed the bag he'd prepared and headed towards the door. Resting a hand on the doorknob, he looked over his shoulder. The self-proclaimed Destroyer was still in a deep sleep on the couch, having insisted that Dream took the one bedroom.

Dream felt as though he was betraying Ink, in a way. He'd been nothing but kind to Dream ever since he initially rescued him from his brother's castle, even if taking care of another person was difficult work. Ink barely even had the means to properly take care of himself; aside from having to stay in rundown or abandoned apartments like this, they had no real way of getting any money. Ink insisted he didn't actually need to eat in order to live, so any food they did manage to get was given to him. He felt... bad. Like he was nothing more than a hindrance or inconvenience. It didn't help that he was one of the primary reasons they had to frequently move from one place to the next. His negative aura risked giving their location, should Nightmare be looking... and based on what Ink's told him, Nightmare was always searching for him.

I'm sorry, Ink... but I need to make this decision for myself.

~~~~

When Nightmare took the rest of the Tree's fruit and turned into... whatever he could be called now, Dreamtale- the world they called their home- changed with him. He could feel the oppressive intensity of positive energy as soon as he stepped foot through the portal. Though he cringed, he moved forward, determined to see his self-appointed mission through.

He wouldn't lie to himself, the place was beautiful. It almost looked like something out of one of the fairytales Nightmare would read him when they were children. Everything was so bright and colorful. It looked like a place where people would want to live- and, judging by the amount of people he'd seen so far, it was precisely that kind of place. Everyone seemed so content and happy, but maybe that was because of the abundance of positive energy. Regardless of whatever the cause might be, it brought him an odd sense of peace to know that his brother's domain had become a safe haven for people of different backgrounds. He wished he had been around to watch it all happen.

"Excuse me?" An ethereal, airy voice broke through his thoughts. "Are you lost?"

The Guardian turned around to face the one who spoke to him. Rather than being met with a human or monster, he found himself looking at... something else entirely. He wasn't even sure how to describe them. They appeared to be delicate and elegant, carrying themself with grace. Their eyes reminded him of a skeleton monster's, but rather than being met with dark sockets and glowing pupils, he found himself looking into what he could only think of as pools of warmth. A pair of pristine, feathery wings was attached to their backside, like those of an angel. The only familiar part of their figure was their uniform. It seemed to be a classical maid's uniform, with a skirt that reached their ankles and long sleeves.

"I... I..." Dream stammered, trying to find the right words. "I'm looking for... m-my brother..."

"Were you separated? I can help you find him again," the servant offered. "Can you tell me what he looks like?"

"W-Well... you see, um... he's... he's... N-Nightmare, the... Guardian...?"

Dream gave an awkward smile, hoping he sounded at least somewhat believable. He wasn't lying, but the idea of Nightmare having a younger brother could be a bit... unbelievable for a number of reasons. He didn't actually know what information was available about him. Did people... know about his existence? As more than Ink's little sidekick? He supposed the maid's response would tell him all he needed to know. If they didn't, then maybe that was an indicator as to how Nightmare felt about him now. Maybe... Dream should've thought harder about this before deciding to leave.

What if... Nightmare didn't want him around? It's been centuries since they last saw each other... Nightmare's life has changed since then. He had a kingdom and people to take care of now. Unlike when they lived in the village, Nightmare was willing to look after these people and take care of them. He shouldn't... have to worry about him, too. Could he even bring anything new to this place? Was there anything his presence or involvement would benefit? What good could negativity ever bring? Feeling negative emotions was inevitable, of course, but would it not be in everyone's best interest to minimize how often they feel them?

He wasn't sure when he had last been consistently positive- while it's true it isn't exactly in his nature, being made from negative energy, he could still feel things like happiness and love. But he didn't feel them as strongly as he used to, if his positive feelings were ever strong at all. There were so many people who felt those things stronger than he did. What could someone like him, who was a physical embodiment of unwanted feelings, possibly bring to a community? What could someone like him do to prove that he had a right to stay?

Nothing, he realized. His aura would undo everything these people worked to achieve. Even if he had an iron grip on his aura at all times, keeping as much negative energy trapped in a bottle as he could, he had his limits. It wasn't helped by the fact that he had hardly any training when it came to his powers. His abilities were completely different from Ink's. Without proper training to control his aura and minimize its effects, he would continue to hurt people simply by being around them. He posed a risk to their happiness and well-being merely by existing. Coming here was a mistake.

He'd be nothing but a stain. A constant reminder of their pain and suffering. He needed to leave before he could hurt anyone, and before he intruded on Nightmare's new life.

Dream flinched when he felt something touch his head. He looked up from the ground, trying to meet the servant's eyes. He hadn't even realized he started crying. He must look so stupid and pathetic, crying in a place where he wasn't wanted in the first place. But there was no sign of contempt or disgust on the servant's face, nor did their aura become darker. If anything, it became... lighter? He didn't think it was possible.

"You're Dream, aren't you?" The servant asked, giving him a kind smile. "His Majesty has been looking for you."

Dream took a step back, reaching up to rub away the tears in his eyes. Ink told him that Nightmare was, but... how likely was it that the reason behind that was something good? If it wasn't for something bad, then why was Ink so insistent that they move locations before he could find them? He'd taken notice of Ink's tendency to get paranoid and resort to extremes, but Nightmare was his brother. Surely Ink would be able to take that into consideration, even with his anxieties... unless he had a good reason to suspect that Nightmare would want to hurt him.

If there was one thing he learned from the villagers, it was that people didn't need to have good reasons to hurt others.

"Young one, where are you going?" The servant asked. "You do not need to be afraid. I will not bring you any harm- none of us will."

Dream shook his head. "Don't lie to me! You... you're just pretending to be nice!"

Before he realized what he was doing, he turned on his heels and ran in the opposite direction, away from what he could only describe as a servant made of light. He barely registered the servant's voice as they called out to him, too focused on returning the way he came and escaping from this place. If he was lucky, he would be able to make it back to that AU before Ink could wake up and read his letter. It was a slim chance, but a chance regardless. He just needed to get out of Dreamtale, preferably without having Nightmare tracking his every movement.

Unfortunately, it seemed his escape wouldn't be as smooth as he'd been hoping for. A knightly figure, tall and shaped like a skeleton monster, stepped out just in time to block his exit. He wasn't sure how the others at the castle found out so soon. Was there some sort of telepathic bond? It sounded highly unlikely, but... well... according to Ink, he was still around the mental age of a child. However relevant that statement was. The important thing was that more people were becoming aware of his presence, something that could end up spelling disaster for him. Not only were more knights starting to show up, but those Light Servants were as well. How were there so many of them!? They were... too similar to each other, almost like perfect replicas. It was unnatural.

Despite the fear pumping through his bones, Dream could feel his energy and strength beginning to drain. Normally, his soul would be able to provide him with the minimal amount of negative energy he needed to keep himself going. But the structure of Dreamtale- and its emotional balance- was drastically different from what he was used to dealing with. There was simply too much positive energy for his soul to counter, and its effects on his body were already showing. He could feel himself slowing down, the aches in his legs growing by the minute, if not the second.

Finally, his legs gave out under him. He groaned in pain as he tripped on his own feet, falling against the hard pavement of the walkway. By the time he managed to pull himself together, the others had caught up to him. He threw his arms over his head, preparing to shield himself from any incoming blows. It was a survival tactic he'd learned and used back in the village.

But instead of being met with violence, he was carefully pulled close to one of the servants. He slowly opened one of his eyes to glance at his surroundings, finding that the ones who caught up to him were whispering things to each other. Though he couldn't catch everything over the pounding in his head, he did hear them inquiring about Nightmare's whereabouts. The Light Servant glanced down at him, taking notice of his drained condition. Standing up from the ground, they adjusted his position in their arms, almost like they were holding a baby or a cat over their shoulder.

"Shh... it's okay, little one. Just close your eyes and rest easy," the servant said in that same sweet, soothing voice. "Does the sunlight hurt your eyes?"

Dream gave a small nod. It wasn't necessarily the sunlight that was the problem, but... regardless, the servant shifted their wings so that one was covering him, blocking out the sunlight from his eyes. A warm feeling washed over his body a moment later, seeping into his bones. Achiness turned into exhaustion and, with some gentle coaxing from the Light Servant's embrace, he drifted off into the blissful darkness of sleep.

~~~~

He couldn't feel his body. Not like he should be able to, at least. Something about it was... different. That much was clear in how he struggled to open his eyes, or how there was a certain numbness to his body.

When he finally managed to pry his eyes open, he found himself in a completely different place from where he fell asleep. It didn't take long for him to figure out that he was in a bedroom of some kind. The bed itself was bigger and comfier than any he'd had before, and it felt... clean, if that made sense. He tried not to be too fussy about this kind of stuff, considering he used to sleep on the ground as a child, but sometimes he could tell the beds he slept in weren't taken care of for a long time. Still, it was better than sleeping on the hard floor, so... he wasn't used to having a blanket that was this thick or warm, either. It was... nice.

"I see you're awake." A hand reached out from his bedside, brushing a finger against his cheek and poking him gently. "Did you sleep well, brother?"

'Brother'.

Reluctantly, Dream looked to his side. Next to him, there was a radiant figure much like those otherworldly servants he encountered before. Nightmare was watching him carefully and, though his one visible eye held nothing but warmth, something was peculiar about his aura. It was brimming with positive feelings- happiness, most notably, but also eagerness and love. There was even a hint or two of satisfaction. But behind that, there was something else... something darker... was he concerned for him?

"Don't look so confused. Did you think I wouldn't be worried about you?" Nightmare asked. "You're not used to this kind of environment. Your soul's response to the change was to turn your body to stone. It's a miracle you even woke up at all."

"... Where am I?" He asked in return.

"You're in your bedroom. Did you think I wouldn't take care of you?"

"I don't... what? Why would I have a...?"

"... I've been hoping you would be able to live here someday, you know. I admit I might have gotten a bit carried away with it and prepared a room in advance... but it turned out to be the right thing to do! You're here now, with me... where you belong."

"But... I... I have to..."

"You have to what, Dream? Right now you should be resting. Your body's going to have a significant loss of energy due to how much positivity there is."

"I need to... let Ink know I'm okay..."

In his goodbye letter to Ink, though he said it would be possible he'd come back depending on what happened, he also said that- should he decide to stay with Nightmare- he would still try to keep in touch with him. Nightmare didn't seem to be quite pleased with this information, his expression turning unreadable for a moment. With the lack of expression, Dream turned to his aura, trying to latch onto anything that might indicate his mood. But what was previously readable (to a certain extent) was now rigid and harsh, like an invisible wall. The older twin moved to pat him on the head, a smile returning to his face. But it didn't have that same warmth to it. As though it was simply for show rather than actually meaning anything.

"We'll talk more about that later. For now, just get some more rest until you can adjust to the environment."

Dream watched in silence as Nightmare stood up from his chair, headed over to the door and left the bedroom. He could hear the faint sounds of a conversation between him and some others, perhaps some servants or something, but he couldn't make out any specific words. Hopefully, the 'later' that he spoke of wouldn't take too long... Dream didn't want to sound impatient, but it was... kind of urgent. To him, at least. He knew Nightmare had other priorities and things to take care of.

Actually... now that he thought about it, he didn't necessarily need Nightmare's help in writing a letter to Ink. Maybe he would need his help when it came to delivering the letter, but he could at least get his message started, right?

Time seemed to prove him wrong.

Whenever Nightmare was absent from his new bedroom, there would always be at least two of those special Light Servants on standby. They would tend to Dream's every need if he asked them to do so. Even though he never asked for anything, the servants seemed to take it upon themselves to provide him with whatever they could. They were so proactive and attentive that he didn't even need to ask them to do anything; any potential wants or needs were taken care of before they could even be realized. The only request that couldn't always be immediately fulfilled was when he wanted to see Nightmare. It was understandable, given his brother's position and responsibilities, and he didn't mind having to wait. And yet, despite his insistence that it was fine, the Light Servants were always far too apologetic for the inconvenience.

Whenever Nightmare did come to visit him, Dream tried to bring up the subject of delivering a message to Ink. But whenever he did, Nightmare either pretended to have not heard him or changed the subject. It was strange. Almost as if Nightmare didn't want him to say anything to Ink ever again. While it made sense from Nightmare's perspective, with Ink being the Destroyer and all, he knew there was more to Ink than that. It wasn't like Ink was malicious with his destructive behavior or intentions. From Dream's understanding of his motives, anyway.

"Nightmare, I want to send a letter to Ink," he said again. "I already have an idea of what I want to say. I just need help delivering it."

"You're still pushing the matter? Oh, Dream..." Nightmare sighed. His tentacles coiled for a moment, expressing his displeasure. "Don't you realize it yet? You don't need to talk to Ink anymore. The only person you truly need is me."

"But... he's my friend." Frowning, the smaller Guardian tried to sit upright. Being bedridden sucked more than having to sleep on a dirty, old mattress. "I promised him I would let him know I'm okay."

"But why would he care?"

"... What?"

"Think about it, Dream. You're the Guardian of Negativity and he's the Destroyer of Worlds. He's a wanted criminal on the loose, a horrible influence! But besides that, he was only using you. I know who you are- despite everything that's happened to you, from the villagers to Ink, you still have a good heart. You don't like violence or fighting, and you especially don't like hurting people. All Ink does is hurt people. You know what the Omega Timeline is, correct?"

"Y-Yeah... Ink told me about it..."

"Then I'll assume you're aware of all the displaced people living there. People who were forced to relocate to a new home because of Ink. How do you think they felt? While it is true that negativity is necessary, there's a good kind of negativity and a bad kind. Just like how there's good positivity and bad positivity."

"... You don't have to talk to me like I'm still six."

"Well, I don't know where you are in terms of mental age."

"But... but Ink does care about me! I know he does! He's been looking after me this whole time! He's made sure I'm fed and he's been trying to help me with my powers! If you just let me, I can show you he isn't as bad as you think!"

"He's wreaking havoc and destroying worlds because of one temper tantrum he threw in the past. I won't say The Creators are saints or have pure hearts- that's an impossible feat, even for someone made from pure positive energy- but they don't control how Ink or Error live their lives. That's for them to decide. The Creators can make worlds, write a guideline story, and make changes as they please, but we have our free will. Everyone gets to make choices in life, and Ink made his."

"But he has his reasons!"

"And the villagers had their reasons for how they treated you. Does that make their actions right?"

"W-Well... no, but-!"

"It's the same for Ink. How many people has he hurt or killed, Dream? How many people have had their families torn apart and their lives ruined because of him? You need to think about these things. His actions aren't excused just because he's hurt by The Creators' choices."

Nightmare let out a heavy exhale, reaching up to rub the space between his eyes. When his hand fell back down to his side, he gave Dream a small smile.

"I don't mean to make you upset. But you need to realize that Ink isn't someone you should be associating with, regardless of what he might've told you about his motives."

With that, Nightmare looked at the clock in the room.

"It's almost your bedtime, anyway. Here, I'll tell you what: I'll... bring this up to Error after the next meeting with the Council, okay? We'll see what he has to say about it and if he thinks it's safe to do so, then I'll let you send him a letter."

Dream thought for a moment, but soon nodded. "Okay... but you have to promise! Pinky promise!"

"... Of course, Dream."

The two brothers locked their pinky fingers together for the sake of the promise. Once the younger Guardian was put to sleep, Nightmare stood there for a moment, watching over his sleeping form. When he finally left the bedroom, he was met with one of the Light Servants, as his brother fondly nicknamed them.

"Your Majesty, about the promise... do you truly intend to keep it?" They asked. "What should we say if the little one asks?"

"... No, I don't intend to keep it," Nightmare confessed. "Dream's heart is too big for his own good. Ink can't be trusted- that much is obvious to anyone. He'll just have to live with how things are going to be from now on. How things should have always been."

The two shared some more brief words before Nightmare finally departed for his own chambers. As he walked, the Guardian of Positivity couldn't help but think about everything that had happened. A smile came to his face, but no one would be able to see the glint in his eye. He truly hadn't been expecting Dream to come back to Dreamtale on his own. He thought he would've had to take him by force. Perhaps it would be a bit harder to keep him around, given his insistence on staying in touch with Ink, but... Nightmare had faith. Dream could be gullible and naive, but he wasn't stupid.

In the end, Dream would make the right decision. He was sure of it.

[gigagendergt]

Bleak Drought, Part 1

The result of a poll committed a long time ago.

The ground under Cornwall’s feet was red and stained the air with dust.

He was used to the clouds his movements produced— being fifty or so feet tall— but the drought had brought an exceptionally horrific water-squeeze over his land and his people, and even the ground wasn’t immune. Where there used to be desert flowers and sagebrush and small stunted Joshua trees, there was nothing now but an open expanse of dust.

A vulture flew past his temple, stopping to rest on his shoulder. It sagged and almost fell. He stopped— he had no water to give it.

Cornwall was heading south, towards the edge of his land-territory, where he knew a convoy of merchants had been passing. They were expected over the last few days but hadn’t arrived. The caravan had been carrying vital supplies for the three towns and ten villages he looked after— medicine, seeds, potatoes, corn, and water. Even greater, his townsfolk had been weaving clothing in hopes to trade it for enough money to buy condensation machines: machines that could save their lives.

Summer was coming, and the brutal heat was harder to bear by the day.

Cornwall himself needed no water, and heat didn’t phase him. He didn’t eat or have bodily needs. He was part natural machine, part ahuman avatar— he was an entity rarely found and rarely understood. The exact words for what he was didn’t exist in any human language. Because of this, and his size and strength, humans were afraid of him.

Cornwall didn’t resent this. Instinct was instinct. They sensed that he was dangerous and he was.

The people residing in his territory understood that Cornwall came with the land. He helped them live and protected their villages, and in return, they practiced sustainable agriculture and respected his animals and his territory.

Cornwall lifted his hand and caught the vulture with two fingers. It lay still in his grasp. Bringing it towards his face, he blew on the feathers and they ruffled. The vulture was dying of thirst.

Droughts were part of the environment and the environment was his, but this was no natural drought.

The vulture’s body changed and shifted as it rotted away in an instant. Instead, a tortoise slowly untucked from its shell, adjusting to the new life it’d been given. It waved stiff, lethargic legs. Cornwall lowered it to the ground and gently placed it out of his path.

He did what he could, when he had the means. Not everything could be saved.

As he carried on, he returned to a peaceful state of mind, and nothing existed behind the strides of his footsteps and the leagues of desert he passed and left behind.

…..

Mad Jack was a hardy man, but this night was threatening to take him.

He’d been traveling with a merchant caravan into Construct territory— stupid even by his estimation. He knew better than anyone not to go where the roaming giants lived. But Jack was a frontiersman and he’d spent his life facing various forms of extremes. He craved them. Pushing further and further into the wilderness was his way of trying to reconnect with his heritage.

It was also a dare. If he died, perhaps that would atone for some of it.

The caravan had been attacked some ten miles from the border by weirding-wolves. Strange electrical fusions that resembled animals, the wolves had appeared out of the dark with a crackle-hum and set their business, which was the business of death.

Jack, however, was no stranger to it.

The first wolf crackled through the body of a merchant and left him convulsing in death-throes. Jack reacted before the merchant hit the ground. He drew his electric crossbow and sent it careening through the wolf’s sparkling core.

Secret machinery crunched and fizzled, and the wolf brushed out of existence as quickly as it had come.

“This is why I hate bureaucracy,” he said to the merchant, who lay still.

Jack had corralled the survivors into one of the remaining caravans and spent the night outside, holding off the wolves. They’d recognized him as a frontiersman and changed tactics, attacking in waves, flashing in and out of existence, trying to catch him off guard. His skills had been tested to the limit. Even now he sat, muscles shaking in exhaustion, against the caravan and waited. The wolves had ceased their onslaught and retreated somewhere in the immediate vicinity. They were watching, no doubt. The second he fell asleep, or let his guard down, or stopped to eat or drink, they would roll in again.

When they did, he was dead.

His tongue stuck dry to the roof of his mouth and he swallowed. Hours and hours without water. How many died out here in the wastes from thirst? Too many. He might join them.

The weirding-wolf came from his right faster than he could react. His hands were sluggish, tired, muscles twitching. It tore the crossbow out of his hand before he could blink and was at his throat.

The wolf crackled out of existence just as the teeth were closing, the blade of his electric knife embedded in its core. He swore.

Two others already at his left, midair, leaping. He bodied one and pierced the other. The latter dissolved in a crunch: the former bounced off his pulse armor. No time to rest: they were rushing him, all of them at once: coming in waves and bounds and ethereal charges. He knew he was dead by the taste of ozone alone. Too many.

There was a huge noise, a great booming sound, and the wolves vanished. Electricity crackled this way and that above the ground. The hair on his neck stood straight up. Goosebumps broke over his skin, and he looked up and saw the construct, saw the massive silhouette and the weight of it, and collapsed on the dust in front of him.

The ground shook, then shook again. A shadow fell over the moonlight and engulfed Jack in deep darkness. He hissed in a breath, hissed it out. His heart was pounding in fading adrenaline. The exhaustion was setting in— How long had it been? Four hours? Five? His body could only support panic for so long— and he tried to push himself up but couldn’t, arms shaking.

The great foot of the monster came down in front of him, and it squatted low, a huge hulking shape in the darkness. A hand loomed out above and he flinched, cowering.

“Easy,” a voice said. It was a voice of wind and rain and dry-desert crackling. It was unstoppable nature: ultimate power. It was the weight of the world.

It touched him, a curious press of a finger, and its touch was like god. He curled into a ball with what remained of his strength and stayed there. He barely felt the bruises closing, the thirst ebbing, the broken ankle that healed wrong snapping back into place with a jolt. Everything was numb in comparison to the touch of that finger. His pulse armor dampened, extinguished in an instant. He saw the electric knife short out.

“A frontiersman,” the voice said. “Interesting.”

[superloves4]

In your eyes the mirror of mercy

Characters: Maglor & (ROP)Galadriel, Gen Chapters: 1 of (hopefully) 3 Summary: While searching for Sauron after following a lead to the Southlands, Galadriel stumbles onto the last person she expected to ever see again: her cousin, the kinslayer Maglor Fëanorion. TW: None I think? Some violence and reference to it at most. Song recommendation: Mercy Mirror - Within Temptation A/N: Not my best work but I had to share the vision!

Ch.2 Ch.3

Also on AO3

The Song beckoned him, it had done so in the past and he followed it, well acquainted with its ways, these had been small reminders, food, drink, bed, as if trying to keep him alive for as long as possible. He didn’t question the Song.

He’d always come back to the shores then, just strong enough to continue. And he’d walk  and walk  and walk

The Song he’d sing and the Song was within him carrying his words on the wind and through water. He didn’t question why.

And so, Maglor continued.

And he’d walk and walk and walk

At times he wasn’t truly... there. He didn’t feel quite the same when he Sang now. But if he dared to slip into numbness and just forget, the Light would be there again, shining onto him and reminding him who Maglor was and what he had done, that nothing he’d ever do would be enough to make up for it.

And he’d walk

Maglor followed the Song to a village in the Southlands. He’d camped a little way outside the village and observed it long enough to discover there was an elven settlement in those parts but with so many years of peace the keepers had dwindled to barely more than two, it made avoiding them much easier, the villagers didn’t like elves but it didn’t matter anyway, he always made sure to go undetected.

When the sun had risen he’d sung a little and garnered the money necessary for a meal as was his usual whenever he wanted more than a fish or nearby vegetation, that was, whenever he actually had food at all. He probably looked nothing like the prince he’d once been, maybe it was better that way.

He bit into his bread.

Whenever she closed her eyes it felt like she was back in that room, staring at Finrod’s corpse. She knew she had to move on and her body begged her to let it go, that the further she went the easiest it would be for her to crumble, Galadriel didn’t have to do this, it wasn’t her burden but she took it anyway, because no one else would otherwise.

Even if it meant watching as Gil-Galad and Elrond’s looks of concern turned to suspicion, because no talk of healing or memory of the blissfulness of Valinor and her childhood could help her now.

And so she’d walk.

Keep the path, keep the search, keep the fight.

And if it wasn’t enough for anyone else, if they truly believed that if she just sought the Valar’s forgiveness she’d be welcomed back, that she’d be healed, because leaving was all she had now, still she’d thread on.

She’d walk and she’d keep the anger.

Galadriel had left at night, as soon as she could gather her things, and left no letters, it didn’t matter if she was alone, if Gil-Galad was truly worried he’d have helped, he would’ve given her more than words trying to lead her to take the next ship, she didn’t care.

In her last search, she had received a new lead and she wasn’t about to give it up, the group of orcs spotted in the Southlands could be everything she was searching for, she’d take anything at this point.

When she arrived, several days later, with little rest in between, there were many things Galadriel had imagined to find in the Southlands.

Sauron had been the preferable choice but hardly a reasonable one, she knew as much. The orc commander leading the group she’d heard about and getting everything she needed from him had been the next best thing. And of course, getting rid of a group of orcs had always been a good idea regardless of whether it progressed her quest or not.

What she never would’ve thought was that she’d hear his voice.

Of course she’d remember his voice, Makalaurë had never been shy of hiding his voice, be it in their grandfather’s halls or in the battlefield, he’d long been defined by it, how could she ever forget.

But he was dead. Everyone said he was dead.

Jumped into the ocean, the last of the silmarils clutched in his hand so no one could have it.

Makalaurë was dead.

But when their eyes met, the reflected light they shared was impossible to hide especially with that ratty cloak he was wearing. So many emotions she saw on his face but she was too stunned to try and decipher them, she did, however, see him recoil. And she saw as he ran away.

In her stupefied state she didn’t even truly react, she noticed the small crowd that had gathered to listen was now dispersing with some curses thrown her way.

She ran.

The boiling anger resurfaced and she dedicated all of herself to the pursuit, the absolute gall he had, running away! Maglor clearly recognized her and knew what she’d do. And he thought he could just run away??

After all that he’d done...

She drove any thought away and continued, it may not be the evil she’d come to capture but it meant the mission in the Southlands had not been a waste, the last of the Fëanorions would be finally brought to justice.

She pursued her cousin to the edges of the town, Maglor didn’t seem interested in blocking her path, and all his efforts were placed on speed and avoiding objects, something she, in her armour, had more trouble doing. Yet, despite his head start Galadriel had overtaken him far easier than she thought.

And when she tackled him to the ground she realized why, she could feel her cousin’s bones stretched onto flimsy skin, gone were the muscles of a fighter, and when she turned his face around to look she saw how sunken his cheeks were. Maglor looked like was barely holding himself together!

“What happened to you?” she asked in horror, none of her previous, more important questions crossed her mind.

“Well, a she-elf, as beautiful as the last orc I fought, decided to throw her whole body weight on me right after lunch!”

Galadriel bashed his head on the ground.

“As nice as ever, Artanis!” he complained but couldn’t even do anything as his words had thrown her back to the moment and she remembered to tie his hands.

Only when she was sure he would not be able to do anything did she allow herself to get up and truly confront him.

“How are you alive?” she asked her most pressing question.

He stared at her befuddled “I’d have to have died in the first place for you to ask me that”

“Do you have any idea of the situation you are in? Or have you finally gone truly mad?” she spat out, her desire was to hit him again but she still needed to interrogate him “Answer my questions or you will regret it”

“Forgive me, Artanis” he answered with a saccharine smile and an overly flippant tone “I’m not in the habit of taking seriously the threats of toddlers!”

She paced the area, reminding herself that she needed him alive for punishment, before replying “It’s Galadriel and you know it”

“Ah, yes, right, Galadriel,” he shrugged, Galadriel made the mental note to tighten up the ropes and make it impossible, and in the same tone as before asked her “On that note, where’s good, ol’ Celeborn, I don’t see him with you, thought he might have wanted a cheap shot as well”

Galadriel’s insults died in her mouth and her body flinched, but she continued, it was better to focus on the task at hand than indulge Maglor’s stupidity.

“Is Maedhros alive as well?” she asked and he looked away, the smile finally falling from his face, Galadriel rejoiced that at least something seemed to affect this strange new version of her cousin.

“Only if you believe one of us could survive falling into a fiery chasm”

“What have you done with the silmarils?”

He gave her a scathing smile and his tone turned back to insolent “Nelyo had his when he died and I threw mine into the sea and have been wandering the shores ever since, of course!”

She violently grabbed him by the hair “TELL ME THE TRUTH!”

“Oh my, little Artanis doesn’t believe me, why might that be?” he had the audacity to laugh at that.

And watching him bend from the weight of his own laughter, fey and deranged, Galadriel decide that questioning Maglor would bring her nowhere, he deserved any horror the Valar deigned to inflict upon him. There barely was any of the cousin she had known in that body anymore.

She tied him to her horse and made sure to ignore any word he said, be it a mumbling, a string of mockery towards her, or all of his strange new songs. The port city they arrived in was nothing like the Grey Heavens and its boats could not compare to Cirdan’s ships, but for her plans that would be all they would need.

Maglor stared at her as she got the boat ready, Galadriel had never felt unsettled by him before, although she had often felt a sense of desolation she had not been able to place until the end of the first age, at that moment, however, with this Maglor that was no more than a stranger, her inability to understand him unnerved her.

“So,” he finally said, his tone neutral “you have truly decided?”

“Yes,” she answered, avoiding looking at him “I’m taking you to Valinor and to the justice of the Valar”

He hummed and nodded.

Maglor looked at the sun setting, he wasn’t singing but music followed him anyway, he seemed to take one last deep breath of Middle-Earth before sitting near the edge, his still bound hands hugging his legs. They started moving, his eyes stared at the deck unseeing and he started quietly singing again.

After about an hour of that, Galadriel snapped “Is that all you can do now?!”

He turned his head to the side, looking at her unblinking “Mostly”

That made her pause, unlike any previous remark, this one seemed to be actually genuine and it made her re-evaluate what he’d said before.

“Maglor?” she asked slowly “Where have you been, truly, all this time?”

He smiled and any semblance of truth disappeared from him “You don’t seem to trust me very much, I’m rather short on answers that would satisfy the great Galadriel, which one would she prefer,” he continued enthusiastically “that I have been secretly plotting to destroy all the remaining Eldar? Or that I have been begging forgiveness to the stars of Varda?”

“What I know is that you are still impossible to deal with.” she growled and decided to leave him to his own devices, let him deal with his broken mind, she refused to care further.

“Aww! Thanks! I’m flattered!” he told her, she pretended not to hear it.

Silence filled the space once more, the stars were twinkling reflected on the sea and Galadriel stared ahead for sight of Valinor even if she knew it wouldn’t be for a while.

“What exactly is your plan for when we get there anyway?” Maglor spoke so suddenly that Galadriel didn’t even ignore him.

“I will tie you up the emergency raft and leave you to float down the rest of the way by courtesy of Ulmo” she gave him a mocking smile this time.

“Not your best plan,” he remarked but she said nothing, she knew that what she was doing had been impulsive but it had to be done, still he stared at her “I didn’t know you were a soldier now”

“When the host of Valinor arrived I refused to stand aside any longer” It wasn’t a question but she answered anyway, remembering the moment she became a commander “Everyone was dead then, my father was there and all I could think was that I was about to lose him too. And in the end, he had to leave anyway.”

She glared at Maglor “And the family I had left was too busy destroying everything they fought for, I was alone”

Maglor pulled up the cowl of his ratty cloak “Oh? You’re telling me we are family after you disappeared into Doriath?”

“After you killed my people!”

He was staring up at her with another sardonic smile, the shadows from the cowl making his eyes appear brighter in the darkness, and when he spoke, his voice held a shade of power.

“Are you threatening me with a dagger, Artanis?”

Every move or line of dialogue he did seemed devised to anger her, leading to their current predicament of Galadriel pointing her brother’s dagger at Maglor’s throat. Even the implicit accusation was maddening.

He couldn’t possibly believe their situations were in any way similar, that she was anything like him.

“Do you truly know what you’re doing, Galadriel?”

She wanted to answer, she was going to answer; when they were distracted by the call of a bird and their first sight of the blessed realm they were born into so long ago.

And it was beautiful.

From where she was standing she could see the white shores of her memory, of her days playing at the beach with her mother, her father braiding her hair so that it wouldn’t tangle in the water, and Angrod and Aegnor teasing her for getting it dirty anyway. Finrod had been there, laughing along but still helping her remove the algae stuck on her head.

Had her brother’s all been re-embodied yet? Would Celeborn be there?

If she just let the ship reach the harbour, would she be able to see them? They would be so surprised, no notice had reached them and yet there she was.

Would her mother still welcome her even after she left despite what had been done to the Teleri?

Her head swirled with possibilities and she felt a tear fall, Valinor was so close she could touch it.

“Galadriel?”

She turned the ship around.

Maglor hit the railings hard, Galadriel was only mildly conscious of that fact, hearing his groans of pain like distant noise as she put distance between them and the undying lands. She heard as he called her name but she couldn’t answer, it felt like her throat had closed and her body rushed to escape.

Dark clouds were beginning to close the sky, keeping the light of the stars away from them, the darkness was a heavy contrast to her memories of Aman but with the wind picking up it didn’t matter.

“Galadriel!”

She rushed from one part of the ship to another as the rain began to fall, she threw her armour to the ground so she could run better, Galadriel didn’t even know if Maglor was still there, he could’ve fallen in the water and be drowning right at moment and she wouldn’t know.

It quickly became evident that they were about to be caught in a storm, the rain felt like punches on her skin and the wind brought the sea upon them. Galadriel screamed when the ship lurched to the side and only her hard acquired quick reflexes kept her from seeing Ulmo’s realm.

The tempest raged, threatening to turn the ship and its passengers into the sea’s newest relics. Galadriel was holding on for dear life to some rope when she heard it.

When she heard his voice.

Maglor stood then on the prow by the figurehead, his voice drowning out the howling of the wind and cutting through the waves, after so many years it was easy to forget how powerful Makalaurë’s voice truly was. But the important thing was that it was working.

Her voice joined her cousin for the first time since before the destruction of the two trees, she may not have the natural inclination for Song as Makalaurë and Findaràto had but she could make up for it with Power.

Singing in unison the ship evened and the unforgiving sea didn’t touch them, even the wind seemed to vanish. In that moment Galadriel truly believed they could weather out the storm, perhaps it was that vanity that changed everything.

In the middle of that tempest, light shone upon them.

Maglor paled and screeched, the Song was broken and a wave hit them, causing the mast to break.

“Maglor!”

Watching as her cousin covered his head and thrashed around the breaking ship, shaking violently, evading the light of Gil-Estel.

“Maglor! Please!” she screamed at him, forced to hold on desperately to the railing, she tried to sing but even her words froze in the cold storm “Please! I can’t do this alone!”

But Maglor didn’t respond, still convulsing and begging the stars.

“MAGLOR!”

A wave enshrouded them.

[shatteredsilverwing]

A Fleeting Sanctuary (Pt. I)

Hello, it's me, ShatteredSilverWing!

It had been quite a while since I've written anything but I still hope that you will enjoy the first part of my "A Fleeting Sanctuary" fiction!

It was supposed to fit into one post, yet there were so many ideas swirling through my head that I just couldn't stop, so I had to split it up in the end.

Also, I took most of my inspiration from the writings of @crisiscutie so most of the credit for the idea goes to her!

Enjoy!

Words: 785

Characters: 4.337

Content warnings: slight angst, mentions of anxiety, pregancy

Oh, how dumb you were for thinking that escaping Shinra with your beloved together would grant you eternal happiness; free from their strangling clutches. But you should have known that they would end up finding both of you sooner or later, since they had their eyes in every nook and cranny on the planet Gaia. Sending out spies was a daily routine for them after all. You knew; you were one of them once.

On that day, Sephiroth decided to go hunting early in the morning, so you had been alone at home with your lovely daughter. You thought about preparing lunch with her together, so you went into the kitchen with her to set up everything. Your daughter was very young, but she was already well-versed in how to use a knife, which is why you gave her the particular task of cutting the vegetables into bite-sized pieces. You, in the meanwhile, filled up the pots with water and sometimes looked out for her, giving her support when needed. The two of you were smiling, laughing and even making teasing jokes at each other, and it filled your heart with joy until it was ready to burst to have her with you.

You felt so insecure back then when you figured out that you had been pregnant. At that time, you and Sephiroth had just found a suitable place within a cabinet in the woods, not very far from its inherent village. It was a small, humble village, so you gave it a risk to stay here and giving into the illusion to have found a sanctuary here.

During the first trimester of your pregnancy, both of you had to face many several obstacles, especially between you two.

Sephiroth, who never wasted a thought on becoming a father in the first place, was filled with anxiety and a jumpiness you had never seen on him before. He was always ready to protect you without hesitation; fighting off anyone who dared to trouble you. His nerves were constantly on edge and the only times where he felt at ease was when he could drift off to sleep while being embraced by your yet fragile body.

When you had reached the second trimester of your pregnancy and your belly started to grow, most of his anxiousness got washed away by the joy he felt when he saw your body blossom.

The rest of his troubles and trepidations left his mind entirely when your daughter finally saw the light of the day. He had been at ease and a loving, caring father ever since.

And you felt the same after you gave birth to her. Though you had still pondered a lot about you even being able to become a capable mother, the happiness you felt blew away all your insecurities. And given time, it became natural to you being a mother. And your daughter became one of the most precious people you could have ever asked for in your life. The other, being your beloved Sephiroth, of course.

Just as you had finished to stir-fry the freshly cut vegetables with your sweet daughter together, a loud and sudden bang reached your ears.

"I'll open the door! It's probably Daddy!", your daughter shouted with glee as she was already dashing to the front door.

"Sweetie, wait!", you shouted back, drying your hands on a towel and running after her.

How often had you told her not to answer the door when she's alone at home or none of her parents were currently available to do so.

To her daughter's luck, it had always been either a kind villager, who regulary offered their help with your growing in the backyard, or her much-loved Daddy who just came home from hunting or training.

Unfortunately, this time, it was neither of them.

Your heart paused in fright for a moment when you realized who was standing in the doorframe: A tall, bald man wearing a black suit. The fact that he's wearing sunglasses didn't make him look less intimidating, neither did his leather-gloved hands.

The expression on your daughter's face changed in an instant while she hesitantly took a few steps back before she ran back to you.

"Mommy...", she whimpered while she hid behind your long, silken skirt; shutting her eyes tight.

There was no mistake: This guy was a Turk, an elite even, directly sent from Shinra's General Affairs Division.

How could this even be...?

The utter shock in your bones made your legs tremble in panic. Your breath ran shallow, making you feel dizzy while the pounding of your heart made you feel nauseous.

Failing to find the words to speak, your opponent began to speak first.

[weministertomonsters]

Piper And The Vampire

This (unfinished as per usual) story is 3.5k words long and heavily inspired by the Interview with The Vampire TV series, but whether that's obvious... Probably not.

─────────────── · · · · ���

I was in a world of trouble that all began because one boy couldn't keep his damn mouth shut. But all stories have to start at the beginning if they are going to make any sense, so that's where we'll begin.

I was eleven when my father fell from his horse and got his head smashed in. He didn't last long, nobody can when your brain is turned to a pink pudding and won't stay in your head where it should be. I was the unlucky one who found him, and he was still moaning in the ditch with flies all buzzing around. I ran home, hollering the entire way.

"Mumma, it's Papa!" I yelled, crashing right into the kitchen.

She smacked her floury hands on her apron. "Where he at? Coming home from the bar? Still there and fighting again?"

"No, he's in the ditch. His head's all crumpled like a pumpkin someone forgot in the cellar."

She looked grim and vaguely sick like I had told her I'd found someone's cow sickening in the woods. "Good Lord help us," she said, picking up her skirt till I could see her brown shins.

She greased her legs and arms every morning with shea butter, and her skin shone as a result. She wasn't white-skinned and golden-haloed like the angels in the Big Church windows, but she was my angel. Tall, imperious, and often untouchable. Now she ran down the worn road leading from our cabin to the rest of the village. I followed her but she said over her shoulder, "Call the Doctor."

"I've already seen him, Mumma! Can't unsee that," I protested, eager to be a big girl.

"In case there's saving in him yet," she responded in a flurry of movement, disappearing down the hill.

Satisfied my Mumma wasn't trying to shield me from any perceived horror, I ran to get the Doctor. He didn't live far because, in such a small town, one person's backyard was another person's front yard. Even our house, which was considered "out of the way", was still visible from the middle of the town.

I could hear the Doctor say, "Geez, Louise, can't a man eat his supper in peace?" to his housekeeper as I thumped up the stairs and past the cocker spaniel on the porch and busted in through the grand blue door.

"The devil doesn't stop his deeds for anyone, Doctor Carney." She replied, sensible as always, turning to me. "Now, what's wrong Miss Piper?"

"My Papa's hurt real bad. I don't think he gon' make it but Mumma said I should call you," I heaved and gasped for air.

Despite complaining seconds ago, Doctor Carney practically flew off his chair with nothing but his case of medical things which was always within reach, looking like a hero in a comic book as he leaped on his horse that was also waiting in the yard at almost any given hour. I watched from the window, guilty about feeling excited. Or was it fear that tightened my ribcage and caused my heart to thrash in its cage of bone? I couldn't tell.

"A glass of water, Miss Piper? You look like you ran the whole way here."

I gulped down the water, relishing the slightly sweet taste. I thought it was almost as good as the stream early in the morning, the same cool and clean-tasting stuff.

"I should go back," I said but Mrs. Louise put a hand on my shoulder. "Now, how about you stay on? It's getting dark out there and I don't want you walking home alone."

I could tell it was because she didn't want me to see my father in his current state. I was going to tell her that I'd been the first to see him and there was no use keeping me but she brought a tall glass of milk and a plate laden with sticky brownies from the kitchen. I forgot to say thank you for the treat and that thought would keep me up for a long time later that night. When Doctor Carney came back, it was with a wagon borrowed from the Smiths and I knew this because of the streak of black going up one side. The oldest son of the Smiths had started a fire for fun and it got out of control and almost took the wagon with it.

My Mumma jumped out the back as soon as it stopped. She had been crying so it didn't take much else to know that my father hadn't made it. She wouldn't have cried otherwise. There my Papa was, tucked in the back of the wagon and wrapped in a musty sack. His shoes stuck out over the top because he was taller than the sack was wide.

"I'm sorry," Doctor Carney said awkwardly as he dismounted, and the way he said it made it unclear whether he was expressing sympathy or apologizing for wrapping my father in a feed sack.

"So, he's dead," I said somberly. "What we gon' do for bread now?"

Mrs. Louise looked a little appalled at that, glancing in uncertainty at my Mumma who laughed in an odd, wet way and hugged me tightly.

"It's the shock," she said. "She'll be bawling her eyes out tomorrow."

"I will not! I like my eyes," I retorted but my Mumma was already pulling me away.

"The wagon, Mrs. Maarten?" Doctor Carney said, showing up after he'd hauled my father off someplace.

The cellar perhaps; kids always rumored that the dead bodies shared the cellar with his milk, potatoes, and preserves because it was the only place cold enough to keep them for burial. No one else had a cellar or those that had one didn't want dead bodies in it.

"I'll come for the wagon tomorrow," she replied over her shoulder. "If the Smiths need it now, that's too bad."

"Are you sure walking alone in the dark is fine? We can always send the manservant along with you," Mrs. Louise called after us.

"It's not the works of man I'm afraid of but the work of the devil," Mumma retorted.

"Mumma, you making yourself sound weird," I complained.

"I've seen what happens in the dark and this ain't nothing yet, my dear," she responded.

That was my first hint that she thought something else other than a horse had happened to my father.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

I had been right to worry about bread. As bad a father as mine had been, he at least brought a loaf of bread home when he came home from work. That way, even if we had nothing but stale bread and watery milk to go with it, we still had something to eat. Money doesn't come cheap and it doesn't grow on trees, so Mumma had to go and find work. The first week consisted of her leaving early in the morning, coming home worn to the bone, and shaking her head in defeat.

Right when the pantry was scraped clean and things were beginning to feel desperate, she came home on a Saturday evening with a strange glow in her eyes and a pocketful of cinnamon hard candy.

"I've got a job, Piper," she declared, dividing the candy between us. "Things gon' look up now."

"When do you start?" I asked.

"Monday and it'll be long hours. Will you be able to take care of yourself?"

"Heck, I've been cooking and cleaning since I was nine, Mumma. I can handle it. 'Sides, I'll be at school most of the day myself," I ducked the incoming swat for cussing and felt very grown up and independent.

The first week was a slow one. Mumma didn't get her first pay until Friday and had to buy from the general store on credit. She hated doing that and so she bought the absolute minimum; bread and milk. On Sundays, we might get invited to a friend's house for dinner, and there I would gorge myself on potatoes and chicken, and cornbread. After school, I had another three hours to pass before Mumma came home and I was left to my own devices. I'd usually play with the dolls I made of straw and old strips of cloth and eat doorstep-thick slices of chewy bread with a dollop from the last jar of preserves.

One day she came home with something all wrapped up. The pantry was now truly empty and all I'd had for breakfast was the end of the loaf with the last glass of milk. My stomach felt like it was turning inside out to start digesting my other organs.

"Did ya get a gift of potatoes from the Sir?" I asked excitedly, spotting the package. "We having potatoes for dinner?"

"Hush up. It ain't no potato. It's a baby." She gently pulled back the cloth so I could see what I'd thought was the tops of a bunch of potatoes was instead a skinny baby.

In light of my crushed hopes, I wasn't exactly welcoming. "Well, kinda looks like a potato to me."

"Piper. Mind your tongue now."

"But it does!" I insisted. "Brown and wrinkly and half-starved looking. Like a dud potato. How did you find a baby anyhow?"

"I ain't having your attitude today," she sighed and walked inside.

"It ain't attitude!" I hollered back, miffed but repentant. "I'm starving is all."

I knew I'd finished the milk that morning. What was she going to feed it? Was it her or him? I was too distracted by the dull thunder in my stomach to care. The baby began to cry and I sat on the porch and listened to Mumma try to hush it up, thinking of how hungry I was.

After a couple of minutes, I went inside. Mumma was changing the baby's diaper.

"It stinks in here," I announced.

"This poor thing was by the roadside in a saddle blanket," Mumma said in a hushed voice because she had finally got the baby to settle. "Hungry with a wet diaper. No one in sight. I have no idea what happened."

"So, what we gon' do for food? The baby needs to eat too."

"I got paid today. Would you run by the store? With any luck, Gran-Mae will still be open and you can buy us something. Two cans of milk for the baby and whatever else looks good for us. You just be sensible, okay? Don't come back with your pockets filled with nothing but candy," Mumma said.

I took the gold coins with a whistle and skipped out the door, biting down on one just like a shopkeeper who wanted to make sure their gold was real. For the six minutes or so it took me to get down the hill to the general store, I felt rich and pretended that I was heading down into town to buy a fine horse. Black with white socks, like Doctor Carney's horse.

Gran-Mae was on the small porch of her store, sweeping dirt out of the cracks in the floorboards with a short stick broom. She could bend well for her age and her backside pointing at me looked like the rump of a friendly cow.

"Gran-Mae? You still open?" I called.

"Now if it isn't Piper Maarten!" She hooted, straightening up and bracing her hand on her back. "I'm closing up, but you come on in."

She bustled through the doors she hadn't locked yet. Lucky that, because she had more than three padlocks on that door and it would have taken forever to open them up because they were all damaged by the rain and rustier than the gates of hell.

It was like stepping into a cluttered heaven that smelled of so many good, heavy scents. I sniffed as quietly as I could manage and caught scents of maple syrup and soap, brown sugar and earthy potatoes, and baby carrots. The oily block of cheese on the counter wafted enticingly in my face, so close I could just lean over and chomp into it.

But the real exciting part was Gran-Mae's candy jar. It had caramel twists and cubes of cinnamon hard candy and bulbs of cherry chew squished next to tacky peppermints, a chaotic jumble of colors that was a feast to my eyes.

Gran-Mae used to give free candy out to the kids, especially when they had gotten hurt. She had to stop when five-year-old Vernon Akson down the street figured jumping off the roof of his parent's barn last summer to get hurt bad would earn him a mountain of candy. Even Mumma and I could hear his screams and he never walked quite right after that.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"You come here, child, and I'll nail your head!" I growled. "What you been doing in the kitchen?"

"I ain't eating anything!" Willy yelled back, scampering to the porch and making a dash for the oak tree out front.

"Then why are the pie toppings lookin' skimpy?" I retorted. "Get outta the tree, Willy."

We ended up keeping the baby. Not sure how, but Mumma got a little extra money from the Sir to care for the brat. Maybe she asked. A little extra always goes a long way and with some candy, I was bribed into grudging acceptance of the baby who had quickly grown into the most impulsive, excitable seven-year-old I'd ever known. With Mumma working, I became a mother of sorts, something I didn't think I was cut out for.

At fifteen now, I was wiry and taller than most of the girls in my class and felt as much out of place with them as I looked. I could always hang with the boys though because even my skirts couldn't get in the way of my love of climbing. However, Sundays sure did. Dressed in my nicest brown skirt, there was no way I could go climbing after Willy without ripping it.

"Willy," I sighed. "We gon' be late if you carry on."

"You ain't whippin' me no more?" He asked hopefully, coltish limbs wrapped around the branch he was clinging to.

"Nah, there ain't enough time. Come down and get dressed. Mumma is gon' be here any moment with the Sir."

Willy shimmied down the trunk and thumped onto his feet. "Why is he coming anyway? I ain't never seen a Sir go to church."

"They do, they just go the big fancy one in the city yonder," I said as we went inside to wash up.

"Have you ever been to the city, Piper?" Willy asked, standing on an old apple crate to reach the wash basin so he could splash his face.

"Once, when I was real small, my Papa and I rode on his horse to the top of Windcreak Hill and I saw the city from there. It was half-dark and all the fancy lights were sparkling like fallen stars. Only got to see that once though, because afterward he started drinking and couldn't ride straight," I said, dragging the brush through my curls to try and force it all into a bun. "Then Mumma said I couldn't ride with him no more."

"Shame, I want to see the city too."

"It's nearly half an hour to Windcreak Hill on a horse. Your legs won't get you there and back in time for dinner even if you went at the lick of daylight," I said in what I figured was a kindly tone. "You need to wear a bow."

"But I wanna see the city!" Willy whined, enchanted by my description of it.

"When I get me a horse, I'll take you," I promised. "But only if you're good. Now let's find you a tie."

I went into the room he and Mumma shared to see if I could find one. Through the dusty window, I saw a fine carriage coming up the way. That had to be Mumma and the Sir.

My thoughts were interrupted by a splash and the splatter of water from the kitchen.

"What you did now?" I demanded, hurrying in.

"I was trying to brush my hair and the crate broke!" Willy said indignantly. "Wasn't my fault."

"At least you didn't tip everything in the basin," I mumbled, nudging him to the side and hastily throwing a dishcloth on the water. "We gotta go."

"But I'm bleeding," he fussed.

I checked his lip. "It ain't too bad. Suck it up."

Willy skipped out the door. "Come see, Piper! The Sir has a fine carriage horse," he said in his squeaky voice.

"Hush up or he'll hear you," I muttered.

The Sir came out first and offered a gloved hand to Mumma who took it graciously, trying not to titter. She looked mighty fine in her new silk dress and idly I wondered if she and the Sir were getting together or something. No way she bought that herself.

"Ready, children?" Mumma called.

The Sir stopped in front of us, his pink lips under his blond mustache dimpling into a small smile which slipped into a frown as he looked from me to Willy.

"Mon Dieu," he said. "Your lip."

"Banged it on the wash basin," Willy said, puffing up like he thought it was tough and cool to have a bloody lip.

"Most unfortunate," the Sir said, holding out his white handkerchief, which had a lacy edge just like a lady's handkerchief.

I groaned inwardly as Willy took it and smeared his blood and saliva on the cloth before trying to hand it back. The Sir laughed once and I snatched the cloth.

"I'll wash it and return it to you, Sir," I said with a curtsy.

"Oh, no need! I have plenty of those. Throw it away. Now, shall we?" He said, gesturing to the carriage.

In that high-up and big wheeled carriage, it didn't take long to get down to the church. Despite that, we were still a few minutes late, just enough that everyone was gathered in the churchyard and greeting each other.

"Nah," I said, shrinking back in my chair. "Everyone's gonna be looking."

"Piper," Mumma said, her eyes as brown as burnt brownies and her tone dry with a sharp warning edge.

Don't embarrass me in front of the Sir, her gaze said, it's an honor to sit in his carriage.

And it was, but all I was thinking about was how everyone would talk about us later. The girls at school would crowd around me asking questions and all the boys would make lame jokes. And the old folk would talk smack about Mumma over their Tuesday cards. Crickets, just the thought gave me a hot chill.

"You will never blend in, Piper. Best to learn that now," the Sir said bluntly, looking at me like he had guessed what I was thinking.

Looking at him straight on, I realized his hair came down to his shoulders, tucked coyly behind his ears to keep it from falling into his eyes. Something about him bugged me. Perhaps the hair or the way he sat, or his ability to deliver a rude line like that with a smile on his face. I rose to the challenge of that innocent smile.

"Neither will you, Sir. Respectfully saying, everyone is gonna talk about you and your fine horse and carriage and girly hair."

"Piper!" Mumma hissed.

The Sir laughed. "Let the girl speak, Marilyn. Honest opinions are so hard to come by these days."

"Marilyn? You call my Mumma by her first name? What's she to you?" I demanded.

Willy squirmed in his seat, impatient to get out and play.

I couldn't stand the Sir's lofty attitude and Mumma's cattle brand-hot gaze, so I threw the door open and stumbled out into the sunshine. I hadn't realized how dark the carriage had been with its draped windows.

"Now if it ain't the Maartens!" Pastor Wilkins said, walking towards us with his fat black Bible tucked under his arm.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the Sir, though. He just stood and stared, as I'd expected. I edged to the side and waited with bated breath to see what would happen. I hoped Pastor Wilkins would tell him to leave. The Sir smiled and tilted his head up to the sky for a moment.

"Such a sunny day isn't it? It surely livens the senses."

"Indeed," Pastor Wilkins drawled, having recovered from seeing a white Sir in his mainly dark-skinned congregation. "You from Gaines by any chance?"

"The grand city, yes of course," the Sir said. "Shall we?"

"Welcome to our little town, in that case," Pastor Wilkins said.

Then he walked inside with him and that was that. I arched my eyebrows. Somehow, that interaction had gone differently than I expected. I had been waiting for a polite but brutally suspicious Pastor Wilkins because I knew that man was like a guard dog around strangers, but Pastor Wilkins only seemed happy to have a rich Sir in his pews.

Disappointed, I drifted inside. Only later would I realize that the unquestioned acceptance of the Sir was just a precursor for what was to come.

[mx-princey]

Honestly all of your story ideas sound good.... personally I think I'm most invested in your ocs story and I'm a bit curious about the premise for your animal crossing one? Mostly bc with ac stories I feel like there's an interesting amount of flexibility there agdhshdh

Ur always so nice thank u 😊

Actually thinking up Plotlines for My Oc (Tea) has been so difficult I've literally probably come up with and scrapped like 10 different plotlines since her creation LOL. At the moment I'm working on designing a few friends for her, a pair of twins whose designs will be based on insects. I want a story about people who are outcast and how isolating it can be to feel unwanted by the world, but also how much people who understand you are worth and can be like family. The setting is still up in the air but right now I am considering a post-apocalyptic setting which came about due to machinery in some way. Tea would be a robot that spent some time "awake" with her human inventor who she was fond of, before being separated and deactivated before being "woken up" after the apocalyptic event, having lost everything she knew and loved. She grapples with self-blame due to sharing an identity with the one's who brought upon the destruction, despite having no part in it herself. For her arc, I'd like her to realise that in fact, very vew robots had a hand in anything that happened and that 1. She has to stop making judgements on others based on archetypes and such, and 2. She has to move forward from her guilt and start to actually take action to make a better world, even if its just in small ways.

I've always wanted something a bit epic lol, but honestly all I have in mind at the moment is that she connects with those around her and helps people to heal and live a better life.

Maybe if I want something very climactic, something will happen that requires them to find a way off planet, and they try to save and take as many beings with them as they can, but of course can't save anyone. That could play into the themes of guilt and the idea that you should do what you can to help people, but you will never be able to do everything or save everybody.

I wrote way more than I meant to about that and I'm not even onto the AC-Inspired story yet... LOL.

The AC-Inspired story is a bit more recent so I haven't talked about it much, but the basic premise is that, when a person becomes lonely enough and makes a wish (doesn't have to be explicit, can just be a feeling) that they had a friend somewhere, and they fall asleep while going somewhere (ie on a train, bus, car, or god forbid driving) when they wake they'll be granted transport to and given a ticket to a village in a forest populated with other lonely people. This "program" has only recently started reaching out to humans, so most of the people there will be animal spirits from a world that functions like ours. Being in this place ambiently lowers people's hostility and makes it easier for people to open up and be understanding. Anybody there can leave at any time, but their ticket will glow when they're "ready" and confident enough to resume their normal life.

So far the character's I've thought most about are a workaholic who poured to much of his life into work and has found himself dangerously socially detached, which started hitting him especially hard when computers started becoming more advanced and his skills quickly started becoming outdated and unneeded. A jaded gay man who's never met anybody like himself and believed he was completely alone and a lesbian who was very active with her local queer scene but due to her high status felt she had to keep up appearances which kept her from expressing her true, admittedly silly self. A lady with pretty bad agoraphobia who spends her time making sure she "looks good enough" to be seen by people but then is constantly too afraid to go outside and be judged anyway. An old spirit who has lived in the village almost since it had been set up, whose love died before he was invited and who has never wanted to go back to a world without them, choosing to stay after his time to meet everyone passing through. A prostitute who genuinely enjoyed her work but was so afraid of being looked down upon for it she decided to build up a reputation as confident and self-reliant, to the point she would never let herself be emotionally vulnerable with everyone. Then there's the cat-spirit who set up the whole system, who seems outwardly confident and chipper, but has insecurities of his own about the whole project.

Writing it now a lot of the character ideas are very cliche, but it is just a work in progress, and it is just a little story I thought up to help me through hard times. Ultimately it's about 1. Connecting with others, 2. Seeing everybody as equal regardless of background and in spite of differences, and 3. The fact that you can't stay with all the people you love forever. The third point is explored through the fact that even though you might make plenty of friends in the village, everyone has to return to their normal life eventually, but the experiences you had together will always exist as happy memories and the things you learned from each other will always be there to support you, together or not.

Also, the character inspirations in order are Raymond (I am not immune to the Raymond :|), Kyle, Katt, Kitty, Dobie, Tiffany, and ofc my boy Rover.

Annnyway its almost 5am and I should sleep now :P sorry if any of this doesn't make sense bc again its late and I took my sleeping meds a little while ago LOL

Anyway thanks for the ask goodnight and I hope u have a good day /)