#her cottage sits at the base of the last tower

[dailypearldoodles]

if you'd like something more challenging, maybe a wolf pearl with human tilly?

Day 259

Oh this one really tickled me. I was thinking that Tilly would be an old lady and like, really motherly, but I also wanted her to be a warrior and she has her fair share of battle wounds and stitches. She's also really big. She big lady. Like, Luisa size. She's also maybe like semi immortal? Her husband has died of old age and all her kids have grown up and moved out, so she's just chillin in her cottage.

Pearl, I decided to base her off of those more brownish wolves. She got either separated or abandoned by her pack when she was still an adolescent, and Tilly found her and took care of her. She's also cursed to cause misfortune to those around her. That doesn't deter Tilly tho. The red bandana that she wears used to be Tilly's :D

[dunmanticarchivistsmain]

@liauditore Liau I blame you for this my hand slipped and I lost consciousness and when I woke up I have these hamfisted words to bludgeon you with (ilu and your galaxyduo brain)

"Go on get you all out of here!" Pearl exclaimed, politely but insistently shoving people towards the exit. With a lot of mumbling and bumbling, and plenty of stumbling, Mumbo, Bdubs and Pearl managed to usher out the entire mess of people who have gathered for a sleepover at Pearl's. There was to be no sleeping over, since the day had consumed all of them with the sillies and Pearl had a task to complete tomorrow. So much to unpack from the day's activities; she felt completely drained but her heart was full… of something.

The distant slam of Bdubs' awkward trapdoors seemed to provoke a soft bork from Mailbox, interrupting Pearl's relaxing chore of tidying up after the visitors. She had to give him his nightly cuddles, stuffing him full of nonsensical coos and affection to last the lonely night on watch outside.

But it seems someone else was giving Mailbox a fair bit of attention already.

"Hi Scott, still here?"

Scott did not look up from his giving of scritches to Mailbox, who was quite content to sit at attention, looking curiously at this last overstaying visitor.

“I like your new home” he said at last.

Pearl turned around, taking in her measly mound. It was a very well shaped, perfectly-spherical-thank-you-very-much, mound of dirt. Half sunk into the ground with a cherry door. Mumbo seems really proud of her for it.

It wasn't much of a house at all really, by Pearl's critical builder eye. Not safe, whispered the ghost of a girl who built a tower in the sky.

And yet in this mound, in this home dug from the ground, Pearl's ears still rang with the echos of laughter, her eyes had run rivers of mirth, and her heart was full of something.

"It's al'right, I'm working on it" The lilt of her voice seemed to catch, in a throat once hoarse from unuse.

"Lookin' forward to what you'd build here Pearl, I'm sure it'll be something."

"Quite something indeed."

The silence seemed to stretch, like the gulf between the moon and stars, where the void sparkled with an infinite something.

And then, with a quirk of her lips and a tilt of her head, Pearl said "Go on home Scott its getting dark and late", indicating the silhoulette of the cherry canopy in the distance where Gem and the Scotts have made their base; the cherry wood staircases and the homey cottages drenched in the light of the moon's face.

Scott brightened as the tension snapped, straightened and with a laugh off he set,

"It’ll be alright, the moon is full tonight."

[mouse-witch]

Week 0:

Many Felicitations,

I have arrived safely in Lastbarrow, and it is everything our administrators said it would be and more. I had no idea just how much of the world was out there. I know Professor Westcott tried to teach me how large mountains were, but nothing could prepare me for the sight of the one the village sits at the base of. It seems as if it wants to overtake the sky! I feel silly now for thinking they were no taller than the towers in High Rannoc, but the academy was the only world I knew of, and that world was the smallest it could be.

Still I shall try to forgive myself for being naive, Professor Ardunn always tried to remind me that inexperience was not the same as ignorance and I shall do well to remember it. The kindness of her guidance, stern as it was, has carved itself alongside the memories of the kindness of you all. And so I have resolved myself to write frequently of my time here. Mayhaps the correspondence will make the distance seem less so.

The village itself is welcoming, quiet, nestled between a swath of forest and hills leading up to a snowy mountain. And a river port on the northwest corner, which helps keep the local industry flowing. There apparently is a decent trade to be made among miners and loggers and any business adjacent to that. And while not boasting of any sites for tourists, Lastbarrow does see its share of foot traffic of the ley wanderer.

The administrators at the local hall of governance, they call them ‘Dorfhaus’s here, we’re very kind in pointing out key locations on the map AMIHR provided me, not just the cottage the last witch held, but the best places in the surrounding area to forage for reagents. They also pressed upon me how grateful they were of my coming, there hasn’t been a village witch in at least 30 years, and their doctor is close to retiring. It will surely take some time for me to fully establish and integrate myself, but their appreciation for my presence solidifies that it was a fortuitous moment when I nibbled on that artifact, no matter how much it pained me to leave my Nest.

I received little information about the prior witch who lived here, Sidonielle De La Rein, but her cottage was nice enough, even if it was beset with a plague of dust. Large stone hearth, a well that still runs clear, quilts tucked away in a cupboard that have been miraculously saved from moth-ravage, and best of all- a large hazelnut tree! Growing right through the glass kitchen.

I felt guilty going through her belongings, but it wouldn’t do to start this new chapter amidst such a level of mess. Besides there were few things that felt truly ‘personal’. There were journals of course, but the writing has faded from age. I managed to gather a few notes about easier ways of distillation, but even that was a chore in itself. All leftover ingredients were spoiled or dried to ash. But the jars were easily washed, and they’re lovely beside. Different colors and facets of glass, and intricately shaped pottery- I can hardly wait to fill them and arrange them precisely how I like.

The first night there was the apex of the moon cycle so I made a point to visit the Lunar Tower even though I was quite exhausted from cleaning. I couldn’t very well miss my first opportunity for attunement as a witch just because I wanted a quiet night in. I can almost hear Azura’s voice echoing across the Rutile Dormitory, telling how things ‘must be done’.

Once the cleaning was finished, I had plenty of time left in the week I gave myself to set-up, so I decided to use the days to take my time exploring the local scenery, remembering to note down areas particularly rich in reagents and other vegetation. I might not have collected as much as I would have liked to start out with, but anything is an improvement over nothing.

While I was out investigating the local crypt, which in fact was the first mine established in the region that was turned into an ossuary when the vein was depleted, I found some of the fairer folk use it’s halls as a reoccurring market. I didn’t think to find out the schedule, but I did trade a bit of ribbon for a wheel of cheese. I should like very much to visit again if I am not too busy.

I shall officially be operational first thing in the morning, and though I know I should settle down for rest, I cannot shake the anxiety I feel. If I still had whiskers they would be twitching like mad!

What if no one uses my services? I suppose that would mean no one was ill, which would be a blessing for them but a curse for me.

What if too many call upon me at once? I possess neither the capability or amount of hands for that level of work.

But I suppose my biggest fear is what if I don’t fit in? I know a witch is required for any township to thrive, but ‘needed’ and ‘wanted’ are two different things.

I know missing the comfort of the academy and those I know is expected, I felt similar after my transforming incident, but it doesn’t lessen the sting of unfamiliarity. I hope these letters will be a balm to that feeling, not just for me but for any you might be experiencing as well.

-Sincerely,

Tilly

[frostehburr]

I Platinumed Hogwarts Legacy and Here's What I Have to Say About the Game

Alright.... So....

Yes, I am a trans woman.

No, I do not support JK or her views.

Hogwarts Legacy was given to me as a gift for my birthday. The person who gave me the gift was not aware of JK... in general. Like, they have zero idea who she even is.

We're well pass the point of harassing people over the franchise so please remain chill or move on to a different post, please.

Now, Hogwarts Legacy as a game is... mid at best. It's average and does well occupying your time. Majority of the trophies were collection based which my 1990s neuron activated on. What can I say? Everyone who played games in the 90s were hooked on collectathons like Banjo Kazooie, Sly Cooper, and Kirby.

Unless you enjoy obsessively collecting everything and the kitchen sink, you're probably not going to enjoy the game much less going for the platinum trophy.

Really, this is a game made for a very specific target audience and it's a target audience I'm a part of. That being fans of the Harry Potter books and movies. Mostly movies.

See, back in the era where everyone got along because politics was boring old people sitting around smelling their own farts (little changed since then) and no one wanted to get into that bull. Kids to teenagers enjoyed a magical series of stories adapted to the silver screen. And it was in this era collectathon platformers were king of the game industry... until Halo happened.

I think Portkey games figured out what people who enjoyed Harry Potter would have played when JK actually kept her fat mouth shut.

Collectathons! Where the player goes out to gather a set number of items for an award. Which is why a large portion of the trophies are "collect all the _____"

There must've been good foresight at Portkey because the Revelio spell saved me a lot of time gathering all of the stuff. From spells to chests to flying pieces of paper. I had a lot of fun exploring the castle and area outside. But I absolutely recognize not many people will enjoy that.

Exploring the castle and grounds is something the target audience (aka Wizarding World fans) really wanted most out of the game. We wanted to be immersed in the world and point to the screen like Leo whenever we notice a reference to the movies or books. We actively log in to pottermore to get our house colors and shiny new wand with glee. Completely ignorant of the world outside the fantasy. Be honest, you don't want to deal with the crisis the last few years have been. Portkey tailored the game to be our escape for just the few hours we needed.

Adding more to that. We also wanted to see all the Hogwarts houses on the inside... except Griffindore. Gryffindoor sucks.

Personally, the Ravenclaw dorm room was everything I ever wanted. The blue and bronze mixed with marble pillars and statues made me happy. It gave me a few decorating ideas for my own room!

The other houses had to be seen... except Gryffendorm. I was extremely reluctant to go in Gryfindorm. And incentive was given in the form of four separate trophies for each Hogwarts house.

You see, there's one quest that changes for each house. Ravenclaw gets an owl puzzle. I very much enjoyed it, Slytherin feeds toast to a kraken mosaic. Hufflepuff gets sent to Azkaban. and the last one parties with a bunch of ghosts. Three of them were quite enjoyable but my enjoyment came from walking around the other dorms.

While walking around Slytherin's aquatic scenery and Hufflepuff's cozy cottage were delights, I still preferred Ravenclaw's sky view tower with starry ceilings. I'm a true blue Ravenclaw.

Even though I loved exploring the castle and everything, it was quite painful to collect every single item for the collector trophy.

I had finished all side quests, all revelio pages, even the trials and demiguise statues! Yet I was still missing a single collection chest. Really did not help the map showed all chests had been found. The butterfly chests are hidden from the map. So I ended up wiping the entire map clean and tripled check back and forth only to discover that the single chest I was missing was in the back of the swamp terrarium in the Room of Requirement.

That was the biggest frustration out of the entire game. Not a bad trade off for all the fun I had. However, not many people will feel the same. Particularly if they were never invested in the Wizarding World.

Hogwarts Legacy is definitely a great game for a specific target audience. For everyone else, it's an easy passable mild distraction. Whoever wanted to play this game already got it. Despite the hell storm that followed it.

Portkey games did a fantastic job with a hot button title but it's only good if you actually want it. If you're no fan of collectathons, Wizarding World, or wondering around for hours then do yourself a favor and avoid this game. If you do like those three things then go ahead! Just try to be patient if you're going to go for platinum.

[tibalt-the-fineblooded]

Do forgive me for the more esoteric question this time, but it has been bouncing around in my head for sometime now. One of my favorite tropes is the psychic head space, that when someone with mind reading abilities enter deeply into another's mind that they enter a psychic space that represents that person. Such as someone who lived their entire life in the military their psychic head space take the form of the army base they lived on, or someone with a very reserved personally head space might be a a tightly back cube with containers for all their thoughts and memories. The best example of this would be the Psychonauts games. So my question is what dose your ocs psychic head space look like?

Ceral: Think the Sky Tower dungeon from Pokémon Mystery Dungeon Red/Blue Rescue Team. Its a cloudscape surrounded by a rolling storm. Each aspect of his power adorning the cardinal directions, Lightning, Fire, Ice and Wind, in the form of appropriate weather. Only the center is calm.

Laan: A large winding tree, you can get lost in the history and memories if you don't know the way. An imperfect mixture of his Elf and Kor heritages, that lets him experience both. The paths are styled for the Kor while the tree resembles those that his mother's city rests in.

Except: A large open field with her cottage. It is almost a perfect reflection of her home on Theros, except the distance is ever changing. The reality of her memory loss and nature as a shapeshifter is shown here, as the landscape in the distance roils and changes.

Y'lona: Still young, the space has not solid in its symbolism of the self. At this point Y'lona is in her early 20s but she's still figuring out herself. Too many her mindscape would seem a series of paths, determined by what she could be.

Zoya: A forge. It's well used but missing several key parts. There are no places to relax, nothing that makes it anything more than a work space. There are no places to sit or laydown. There are pictures of what used to be, still memories of places she used to live. A reminder of was lost and can never be restored.

Atlan: A mediation room, filled with an assortment of games that require patience and cunning. There are rows of training equipment and tools. All would seem calm and collected if it werent for the banners hung from the bannisters. Banners that are in constant flux between the symbol of the Jeskai and that of Ojutai.

Sturn: The captains quarters of the Hangman's Orchard. In the living glory of the ship, the room is whole and the sounds of the crew can be heard from inside. But gazing out any of the windows, shows the fate that befell Sturn and his crew. The noise fades to nothing and a semi circle of kneeling skeletons wait outside the quarter doors.

Samuel: Its a dark place, with only the subtlest of reflections off of dusty lab equipment. A hollow feeling permeates the place as it's true form was lost long ago to solitude. Slivers of silver light always catching the corner of your vision as you try to find your way, very aware that Samuel can see perfectly fine in this darkness.

Kitai: A large circular dais, bathed in light with a large marble table in the center. Laid across the table is ceremonial armor and weapons. At 8 points surrounding the dais are statues of angels, all adorned with similar attire to the gear on the table.

Aseri: A wide open grove, set for a large party and decorated all the way to the edge of the forest. Shades of her family fill the grove, giving it life and filling it with music. The ground reflects her body, for all her tattoos are displayed upon the earth that shall be danced on during the party. Echoes of the last few creatures she conjured with her magic roam the end of the groves as looming shadows, guarding but never entering.

Cas: A dusty road with a campsite set up on the side, the fire is smoldering but still has enough heat to make a meal. The tent is worn from years of travel and the folding chair is just as weathered. In the distance is an unreachable town. It looks pristine and wonderful on the edge of the horizon, but you know you can never close the distance.

[danicruel]

There’s something bad about to happen to me

(Abby x Reader angst / comfort / happy ending)

Summary: After a messy, painful break up where Abby storms off to Jackson to find Joel, her and the Reader get partnered up on a run after she returns. Something between unbridled rage and heart ache is tugging at the Reader as they head out to a cottage that the pair used to frequent while they were together. When Abby admits something on the way there, everything threatens to unravel.

Or: Abby and the Reader fight and then kiss about it.

Despite the damp October chill hanging in the air, your blood felt too hot under your skin as you watched Abby’s long braid sway across her back. She was walking briskly, and you were trying to keep up with her without making it seem like you were trying to keep up with her.

It didn’t help that she was a good four inches taller than you and had stupidly powerful thighs that were about as dense as the tree trunks around you.

Fuck Abby’s long legs and ridiculous stamina.

Your cheeks felt windburned even though you had only woken up maybe an hour ago, and your heart was fluttering too fast in your chest. The two of you were venturing deeper into the overgrown brush and towering trees behind the stadium, and aside from the squishing and crunching of your boots on the forest floor, it was uncomfortably silent. Usually, the forest felt like quiet safety to you but now it felt like you were going to suffocate in the tall, thick ferns and grass.

As one of the stadium’s lead horticulturists, Isaac had asked you last night to go search in the morning for some medicinal plants the base was beginning to get low on.

That wasn’t anything too out of the normal – you knew where to find these plants, and you often were sent out of the stadium to go looking around. He always sent a soldier with you as protection, and so when you asked him who you’d be partnered with for the morning, he answered that ‘one of his top soldiers’ would be meeting you in the mess hall at dawn.

He had left out the part that he was referring to fucking Abigail Anderson.

An hour ago, you had walked in to see her – and the sheepish look on her face – waiting for you, leaning against a support beam while eating an apple. You had hated yourself for noticing how the fruit looked so small in her broad, familiar hand as she brought it to her mouth.

She was wearing her navy bomber jacket with a grey hoodie underneath and had on the dark green beanie you had knitted her for Christmas two years ago. And weirdly, she hadn’t looked one bit surprised to see you as you strode over to her, cheeks flushed with how flustered and livid you suddenly were.

She stood up straight when you stopped within a few feet of her, still chewing.

“You’re the one Isaac assigned to join me, aren’t you?”

“I tried to find you last night to give you a heads up.”

You crossed your arms across your chest, noticing how the other soldiers were looking over at the two of you curiously. The worst part was that they were trying to be sneaky about it, like they weren’t witnessing ex-lovers reunite for the first time since their screaming match a couple months ago.

You had been trying to avoid this exact moment – of being a god damn spectacle – and had been successful for three weeks since she had returned.

Three weeks of avoiding the woman who was once your everything.

The early morning that she had left, you had woken up to her side of the bed being empty, and when you pulled yourself into a sitting position, confused, you noticed the note on her pillow. She had signed the bottom of it with just her name, not her usual “Love you always”, and immediately your heart was in your throat.

In a daze, you threw on a hoodie and sneakers and sprinted out into the dewy morning air, straight for the stadium’s main gate. It was around 5 a.m., and the sky was just barely beginning to get light, transitioning from black to that darker blue. The moon had hung over your head, dimly lighting the way, as you kicked up the gravel under your feet from running so hard.

She was there at the gate, talking to Owen and Manny with a choice of weaponry hanging from her backpack. Her back was turned to you, but you noticed how high she was holding her shoulders, crunched up around her neck. The three of them turned with startled looks on their faces when you had screamed her name across the stretch of hardened ground separating the two of you, breath catching in your throat and eyes burning.

When you finally reached her, you gripped tightly at her arm to simultaneously steady yourself and to keep her where she was. She had incredibly bloodshot eyes, and her eyebrows were pulled together when she met your gaze for half a second.

Part of you wondered if she had actually gone to sleep last night or if she had just laid there until you fell asleep. You had remembered how, only hours ago, she had kissed the back of your neck and breathed you in while she laid behind you, her fingers running up and down your arm. How she had caressed and softly hummed you to sleep.

“Abby, don’t go, please.”

“Y/N …”

She had been looking anywhere but at you, and it was making your heart pound faster and faster. You were breathing so hard that you were beginning to get lightheaded.

Her eyes were already far away.

“Stay here. Please, Abby, don’t leave.”

You could hear the fear in your own voice, high and breathless. From your peripheral, you could see Owen and Manny backing away from the two of you, looking between one another and the scene unfolding in front of them.

Abby had been debating Jackson for weeks by then, since the lead had come just days after her 23rd birthday – an estimate of where the man who killed her father was. It had happened just a little over a year ago, by that time. A little over a year ago that the crumbling remains of the Salt Lake crew of Fireflies had joined the WLF.

The stadium had been home for a while by that point, but since she had gotten her hands on that lead, she hadn’t been the same. She was awake for hours after you went to sleep, spent even more time in the gym, and took on any extra assignments that Isaac could throw her way.

Her restlessness and itching for revenge had been lingering over your relationship like a ticking bomb. And that morning it had finally gone off.

“Y/N, stop –”

She pulled her arm away from you, holding it across her chest as you fumbled to keep a grip on her, like that would somehow keep her in Seattle. You could hear yourself panting and crying as the two of you struggled with one another.

“Doing this isn’t going to fix anything, Abby. Why can’t you see that?”

“Let go of me. Now.”

Her tone was so cold it made a shiver travel up your spine, and you were so stunned that your arms fell to your sides and all you could do was stand there with your hands shaking. In your peripheral, you could see that some early risers were lingering nearby to try to figure out what they were witnessing.

Abby looked to her two friends – your two friends – and then started to walk away.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore!” you had yelled after her.

It had come out a lot stronger than you had felt in that moment as tears streamed down your face. That got her attention, though, and you saw how her posture stiffened. She whirled around to face you with her eyes wild.

“Oh, save it! You know more than anybody that I need to do this. So, either you can get on board and fucking support me, or we can be done right now.”

Your mouth dropped open at that, but she barreled forward while you were rendered speechless.

“Why don’t you get off your moral high horse, Y/N? I don’t recall that you’re above killing.”

Her voice was like acid, burning and blistering you and everything that you’d built with her.

“Fuck you, Abby. You know damn well killing Joel won’t bring anyone back.”

“Then let’s be done, yeah?”

Her eyes were narrowed dangerously.

“—If you don’t know who I am anymore and don’t get why I need to do this.”

You could hardly breathe as you stood there, chest heaving, gasping in air. The sound of your racing heart was drowning out your choked half-sobs.

“You’d like us to be done?”

“You know what? Yeah – yeah, I do. So, don’t wait up for me,” she hissed.

And with a turn on her heel, she stormed off, leaving you standing there with the worst case of whiplash you’d ever received – and at the hands of your girlfriend of several years.

Manny had looked like he was about to cry as he turned to leave with her, following behind Owen with his face turned down. Both of them looked like sad puppies, trailing after her with their tails between their legs.

The three of them wouldn’t return until two months later.

“What is it that we’re looking for?”

Abby’s voice and the warmth behind it startled you.

Your head snapped up to look at the back of her head, and you were grateful that she didn’t witness the pained look on your face as you pulled yourself from that memory.

Right, we’re out in the forest looking for plants.

It had been minutes since either of you had spoken, and your own voice got briefly stuck in your throat as you opened your mouth to answer. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat.

“Wallflowers and elderberries, mainly.”

She hummed in response – almost too pleasantly. Almost too naturally.

Suspicion began to flare in your chest again with just how relaxed she seemed to be about this whole excursion. Abby didn’t seem one bit disturbed ,or even that annoyed, that the two of you had been partnered up, and as you trudged along the mossy forest floor, you were beginning to think that maybe she had set this whole thing up, not Isaac.

The realization made your stomach twist with something you couldn’t identify.

You both continued in silence, heading out to the abandoned, creepy cottage that you knew had the particular plants you were looking for. For whatever reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to dig up the whole overgrown garden, despite how it was teeming with plants that definitely would be of value to the base. You would rather just head out and take what you needed, when you needed it, and preserve some of the eerie magic that seemed to linger there. Preserve some of the old world that’d been left behind within the confines of that rotting wood fence.

Countless times, Abby had been to the cottage with you. She had pressed you against the inside of that creaky front door so many times, her mouth hot and hungry against yours. Had always presented a puffed-up dandelion for you to make a wish before the two of you left, the grin on her face so wide. And now would be the first time you had returned to it since she’d left.

“I didn’t kill him, you know.”

Again, her voice startled you out of your own head, and then your whole stomach flipped over when you realized what she had said.

She didn’t kill Joel?

Your heart took off in your chest, and you fumbled to a stop under the shade of all the trees surrounding you. Abby walked a few more paces before she realized you weren’t following behind her, and the crunching under her heavy boots stopped as she turned to look at you.

A bolt of panic struck you at the expression on her face.

Her eyes were wide, brimming with tears, and her bottom lip was quivering. Shoulders pulled inward, she looked unbearably small, and you had a burning urge to hold her like you used to. Seeing her like this, seeing this side of Abby again – vulnerable, walls down – made the centre of your chest ache, and the pain leaked down to your ribs.

“Abby –”

“And by the time I realized I had fucked up, I had already lost you.”

The ache in your chest leapt at her words, at her voice so full of remorse and pain, but the anger burning in your belly sparked.

You crossed your arms over your chest, heart racing, and met her eyes.

“You prioritized revenge over your own fucking life, Abby – and your friends’ lives!”

Your tone was red hot, and your cheeks were burning again. She shrank back at your words and hastily wiped at her eyes.

“You were good with dying if it meant getting some sweet, sweet revenge, huh?”

She surged toward you, a foot away, her blue eyes narrowed, and you realized tears were rolling down your own cheeks. Annoyedly, you brushed them away, heart thrumming in your ears.

“You don’t get to just come back and expect me to pretend like none of that happened!”

“You wouldn’t have let me leave, otherwise!” she yelled back, taking a half step closer.

“Well, clearly that didn’t stop you in the end.”

She was biting into her bottom lip, and she dropped your gaze. Your stomach dropped out at how upset she looked, but the anger that had been building, hot and ugly, since she left was suddenly impossible to hold back.

“How could you just leave me like that, Abby? Kissing me goodnight one moment, and then leaving me a fucking letter in the next?”

Something flashed across her face, and her eyes snapped up to yours.

“I wanted you to be mad! I wanted you to wish you’d never see me again, and I wanted you to not be devastated if I died out there!”

Her voice broke painfully.

“You thought I would be fine if you just never came back?”

Reflexively, you had taken another half step toward her, and there were only inches between the two of you. You could feel the heat of Abby’s breath, fast and ragged. This close, you could see how she had more freckles across her nose and cheeks and along her hairline. Her eyes were wide, filled with tears, and they flitted over your face intensely.

You stared right back at her, breathless, trying to ignore how your heart squeezed at how much you’d missed looking at her this close.

“I wanted you to hate me, and clearly, it worked.”

Her eyebrows were pulled together, and her lower lip quivered as she yanked her beanie off and squeezed it so hard that her knuckles turned white. The little strands of hair framing her face were sticking out as she looked over her shoulder with a loud, shaky exhale.

“I thought about you every single fucking day, Abby –"

You stepped forward to shove her backward, hands on her firm chest, but she caught your wrists in her cool grip and held them just hard enough that you couldn’t knock her off balance.

“– because I love you way too goddamn much, even after you fucking broke me!”

The words tumbled out of your mouth, high and piercing, and then suddenly you were caving in on yourself and she was roughly pulling you to her chest. She curled her tall frame over and around you, holding you tightly against her as you sagged in her familiar arms. Fingers spread wide, her hands travelled all over your back and she pressed her forehead into your shoulder.

The heat of her breath travelling down the side of your neck made something snap inside of you, and you gasped into her jacket like you’d finally come up from the depths of the ocean, arms still folded up between the two of you, your hands in fists.

There, squeezed in her arms, you came undone.

The wall that you’d built to protect your fractured heart came crashing down, and all the broken ugly bits flooded out right there into Abby’s careful hands. You leaned into her, small in her arms, and buried your face in her jacket.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, breath hot on your neck. “Oh my god, baby, I’m so sorry.”

Warmth spread through you at that pet name whispered into your ear.

“Abby –” you squeaked.

You wiggled your arms out and wrapped them tightly around her waist, breathing in the smell of her that had been haunting the peripherals of your dreams for months. Pine and mint and the sweetness of her skin.

“I could never stop caring about you,” you whispered.

You could feel her shaking in your arms, and you slid your palms up her wide back. Turning your face toward hers, you pressed your nose into her tear-streaked cheek.

She was so warm and soft and everything that you had ached for since that morning at the gate. Abby was your home and safety.

“Fuck, I missed you,” she breathed.

Just as she bumped her nose against yours, you heard a twig snap off to the side of you, further into the trees, and the two of you jerked away from one another. In one fluid motion, Abby’s hand went to her pocket, pulled out her knife, and swept you behind her with the other. Both of you went completely silent, holding your breath.

Nothing emerged from the trees, thankfully, but Abby continued to stand lethally still, feet spread in a wide stance. From behind her, you were sure that if there was an actual enemy, they wouldn’t even be able to see you back there.

“We should get to that cottage,” you whispered, hand on her arm.

Nodding, she took your hand with her free one and then you both started jogging in that direction. You had the sudden urge to start laughing, a little bit of hysteria probably bubbling to the surface, and when you looked up at Abby, she also had a grin fighting at the corners of her mouth.

By the time that the cottage came into view, you broke to a walk, panting.

The whole way over, Abby had been looking all around the two of you, eyes alert and braid whipping over her shoulders whenever she turned her head. It was endearing how on edge she could be while on a run with you, and in the past when you had told her as much, she had smirked and made some dumb joke about ‘precious cargo.’

The grass in the area was bordering on being waist-high, and you were pushing it away with your hands as you both approached the fence. Inside, you could already pinpoint what it was that you needed, and you pulled your backpack off to retrieve the linen bag you had brough to collect things in. Abby was starting to make her way carefully into the tangle of herbs and flowers and plants, and you watched as she wove toward the front door, knife still drawn.

She slowly pushed the door open and slipped inside, and you didn’t realize you were holding your breath again until she emerged again, grinning. When she reached out her hand to you in a gesture to join her, the veins in it popping to the surface from the jog over, it felt like a warm haze was settling back into your chest.

Smiling, you slung your pack on, tucked the linen bag under your arm, and carefully made your way toward her, gently pushing some of the overgrown greenery away as you went. As you approached her and caught the way she was looking at you, blood started rushing to your cheeks. Her eyes were soft, for the first time in a long time – even before she left – and she was grinning so big that they were crinkling in the corners.

God, Abby was pretty.

So pretty that it almost made you want to look away, like staring into the sun, and you felt the urge to drop her gaze shyly. Your face only got hotter as she opened her arms wide, her wingspan massive, to bend and wrap you up in them with a content hum.

“I missed the way you smell,” you breathed into her jacket.

Her lips brushed your temple, and you found yourself keening up into it as you wrapped your arms around her waist.

“What do I smell like?”

You considered her question.

Abby smelt like home – like your shared place that had been so empty without her in it, like your pillow in the morning when she inevitably wound up snuggled against you on your side of the bed. She smelt like a dewy morning in the woods, sun-kissed skin, and pine soap that she insisted on trading for at the concession.

You turned your face up to hers, sighing.

“You smell good.”

Her huge hand came up to wrap the side of your jaw, fingers curling behind your ear, and she lightly kissed your forehead, the breath from her nose warm on your hairline. The two of you stayed like that for a moment in the mess of plants, her lips against your skin, and then you pulled away just enough to look up at her.

All it took was you breathing her name, and then she was bending to catch your lips.

Abby kissed you softly, slowly, her full lips warm and even softer than you had remembered.

It felt like you were going to melt at how easily and familiarly the two of you moved against one another, her other hand coming up to caress the back of your neck, your own arms tightening around her. And when it seemed like she was going to pull away – as though just one soft kiss would suffice – you gripped at her waist and stretched up onto your toes in a silent request please, keep going.

You could feel the smile playing on her lips as she pulled away just enough to get a breath, and then she was gently angling your face back to hers. Blinding white flashed behind your eyes at the heat of her tongue brushing along your parted lips, and a hot spike of desire burned through you with the way she groaned as she licked into your mouth. You gasped under her lips and took a half step forward into her so that her back bumped against the front door.

The taste of her on your tongue, and how she went from kissing you soft and sweet to suddenly devouring you in that way that only Abby could, made you weak, and you moaned into her mouth.

When you eventually pulled away, feeling like your head was about to spin off your shoulders, she smirked before leaning to kiss just below your ear. You brought your hands up to squeeze at her shoulders, leaning into her soft lips and the heat of her breath.

“I love you. More than anything, I love you.”

Your eyes prickled with the threat of tears again at her words, and you wrapped your arms tightly around her neck to pull her closer to you. With your eyes falling closed, you felt Abby nuzzle down into you, her own strong arms tightening around your waist.

“How about you take me into this cottage and show me how much you love me,” you tried to tease but your voice cracked with overwhelming emotion.

“That could be arranged.”

[smaidjor]

life slips in through a backdoor (the last life pearl and scott fic)

So I know I said a new chapter of the i bet on losing dogs series would be next but I got really attached to galaxy duo in last life and now this exists. I promise I haven't forgotten that series, I just got busy! I'll be editing the promised chapter in the next few days, hopefully I'll be able to post it soon.

Anyways, with that out of the way, disclaimers time! So, disclaimer that I haven't watched Pearl's series yet, so I am deeply sorry if I get her characterization wrong. I did my best. (And a small clarification on Pearl's characterization in this- she comes off as pretty ruthless at points, but she really isn't more so than Scott. Ultimately, neither of them actually want to hurt each other.)

(Also ms. pearlescentmoon if you ever see this, i am so sorry. mr smajor if you see this thats on you for lurking in empiresblr /j (no but really, sorry for making your minecraft roleplay character incredibly sad on numerous occasions.))

So!

Title: life slips in through a backdoor

Word count: 2501

Summary:

In the end, it comes down to this.

Pearl is willing to kill Scott.

Scott is not willing to kill Pearl.

And yet, in the end, she hesitates.

-

Last life fic featuring the concept of Pearl and Scott being the final survivors.

Warnings: blood, death, suicide, referenced suicidal thoughts. Neither of them is in a good place emotionally and if that or any of the other mentioned topics may be triggering to you then I would recommend not reading this.

Actual fic under the cut:

In the end, it comes down to this.

Pearl is willing to kill Scott.

Scott is not willing to kill Pearl.

And yet, in the end, she hesitates.

It’s just them left now in this empty world. Pearl isn’t sure which is worse, the thought that their friends are lingering behind, watching over them, or the thought that they’ve entirely abandoned her and Scott. That they aren’t worth watching over.

In the end, Pearl and Scott sit atop Ren’s tower, legs swinging over the edge with recklessness born from loss. The tower is one of the few places left even somewhat intact- they get the best view of the shattered, scorched world from here, not that there’s much left to see.

The snow fort is in shambles, bits of its walls melting and sliding down, the soul sand floors stirred by a hundred footsteps. The Fairy Fort is in ruins, Joel’s bridge is burnt. Magical Mountain hasn’t fared much better- Scar never got the chance to finish repairing his roof after Joel blew it up. Neither did Pearl and Scott, to be fair- the peaceful little cottage Scott built lies in ruins at the base of a massive column of lava around what was once a beautiful tower.

Maybe, in a more peaceful world, they would have spent the hours required to drain away the lava, to rebuild the cottage from ground up until it became a cozy place to live once more. In this one, they simply...ran out of time. There was never enough time for this place to become beautiful, not with the lingering threat of death over all their heads.

Even now, Pearl can hear the metaphorical clock ticking; it’s only a matter of time before one of them snaps and kills the other. Scott is so close to the edge, it would be so easy to push him off…

But Pearl is in the same position, and by the look in Scott’s exhausted, red eyes, he knows it. And yet he’s made no move to hurt her.

“One of us is going to have to kill the other,” Pearl says. There’s no use beating around the bush when it comes to this- they wasted all their time on the struggle for survival, leaving none for pretty words or delicate conversations.

“I don’t want to,” Scott replies.

“Don’t want to kill me, or don’t want to die?”

“Both. Neither. I don’t know.”

“Me neither,” she admits.

The silence that falls is near-suffocating, broken only by the faint whistle of wind through the trees.

Eventually-

“I don’t want to be alone,” Scott says, and Pearl’s known him long enough to know that’s more of a confession than he lets on.

“I don’t think I want to either, Scott,” she tells him. “Who would?”

“One of us has to die,” he says. It’s not an answer.

She leans her head on his shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry, for all that’s worth.”

He rests his head on top of hers. “Me too.”

Another beat of silence.

“So, what do we do?”

“I don’t know.” It’s strange to hear those words from Scott, Scott who always has a plan, who’s always taking charge, who always has at least some idea of what to do, where to go.

Pearl doesn’t think she likes that. “I mean, you’re right, like you said, one of us has to die, but...who? Do we just battle it out in some appropriately dramatic location?”

Scott doesn’t answer for a moment, and when he does, his voice is controlled, calm, any emotion carefully ironed out. “I won’t kill you.”

“Why not? Do you not feel the blood lust?” Pearl certainly can. Her heartbeat thrums louder in her ears and she’s vividly- painfully- aware of how precarious their position is, how vulnerable Scott is with his legs swinging over the edge and his head resting on hers. She could throw him off the tower. She could slide a knife into his ribs- her hand is already resting in the perfect spot.

Scott shrugs. “I never said I didn’t. But quelling the urge isn’t worth the consequences.”

She gets it, in a way. She’s not sure if she could live with herself if she killed him now, tempting as it is. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to deal with the guilt either.”

“Oh, it’s not that. It’s that I’ve already lived through being the last one alive of a pair, and I’m not keen on doing it again.”

Oh.

“Do you know how lonely it gets?” Scott goes on. “How bitter the ache is, knowing that you’re alone, your person is gone? Ren killing me was a mercy.”

“Will you ask me to do you the same mercy?” Maybe Pearl from five lives and a war ago would have hesitated at the blunt phrasing, but now, she asks the question with mere curiosity. Some fundamental part of her died with those five lives, some soft, innocent part that still balked at the cruel reality they’ve been forced into.

“I won’t fight back if you do decide to hurt me,” Scott tells her. It’s a roundabout way of saying it, but it gives an answer to Pearl’s question well enough: yes.

She knows- they both know- that she can’t hold back the urge to kill forever. This is a game that can only have one winner; refusing to fight back is, in essence, suicide.

She doesn’t want to hurt him.

And yet….

“Is there a way you want to die?”

“Quickly, and while looking hot.”

That startles a snort out of her, and he laughs too, shoulder shaking under her head.

“Scott!”

“What? It’s the truth.”

Pearl snorts again, less humorous this time. “Any other requests?”

“I don’t care if you give me a proper grave, but if you do, bury me with a handful of poppies. Take care of the axolotls, of course. And Pearl?”

“Yeah?”

Scott lifts his head, turning around to face her properly. “Live for me, alright?”

She’s startled by the sudden lump in her throat, taking in the bags under his eyes, the bruises still littering his face, the sheer sincerity of those red eyes. It’s a twisted parallel to how they used to stare into each other’s eyes and hope not to be boogeyman; then, they hoped to never have to take a life, especially not from each other. Now, Scott is looking into her eyes and asking her to take his.

Pearl swallows hard. “I will.”

Scott laughs, then, a sound with no true mirth to it. “It’s selfish of me, really, to ask you to live when I’m doing my best to avoid doing that. Then again, you always wanted to survive a bit more than I did.”

“It’s true,” she agrees. “You have lines you won’t cross. I’m more willing to bend my rules, though there's some I won't break, you know?”

“It’s a good trait to have. I can’t fault you for it.”

“I do what it takes to win, I guess.”

“You do.”

“Still,” Pearl says, “I wish it wasn’t you that I had to kill.”

“So do I, but here we are.”

Guilt swirls in her stomach. “I’m sorry.”

His smile is sad. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not! It’s not fair that we’re all stuck here, it’s not fair that there can only be one winner, it’s not fair that it has to be me and you. It’s not.”

He reaches out, tugging her into a hug that’s made all the more dangerous by the ten-meter drop that their legs are dangling over. It’s awkward, a strange tangle of limbs with both of their bodies angled awkwardly, but it’s the closest to home that she’s gotten since Last Life began.

Scott doesn’t say ‘I love you’. He doesn’t say ‘I’m sorry’. He doesn’t say ‘I trust you with my life and my death’. But his head is resting on her shoulder, and the chinks in his armor would be so very easy for her to take advantage of in this position, and Pearl understands, on some level, at least a little of what he’s trying to communicate.

He pulls away, eventually, and reaches for the straps on his chestplate.

The survival instinct that’s been drilled into her flares in alarm. “What are you doing?”

“It’s pretty hard to stab someone through a chestplate,” Scott replies wryly.

“Oh- are we doing this now?”

“I think it’s better to. Unless you have loose ends you want to tie up before my untimely death?”

Pearl almost laughs. “You’re terrible, Scott.”

He gives her his classic head tilt and smile, with just an edge of sorrow behind the playful grin. “You love me.”

She can’t argue with that. “Where should we…”

“I was thinking back at our original base. It seems fitting.”

“I mean, most of it is covered in lava, but I see your point.”

Scott laughs at that- this time, his laugh is more genuine, though more tired. “I’m sure we can find a clear patch somewhere.”

They take their time going down the tower. There’s no need to rush, not when what they’re rushing towards is such a terrible, inevitable tragedy. There’s a makeshift cobblestone staircase winding around the interior of the tower- briefly, Pearl wonders who made it.

“Good thing this is here, huh?” She tries for a smile with those words.

“You’re welcome,” Scott replies, and she can imagine the grin on his face. “I made these stairs for Cleo,” he adds. “She never carried building supplies on her- to this day, I don’t know why.”

“I guess we’ll never know now.” It’s sobering to think of the companion they’ve lost- Cleo wasn’t with them from day one, but she was a good friend. She saved Pearl’s life, once. Pearl doesn’t suppose that even if she and Scott weren’t forced to kill each other, they could ever shake the sense of something missing. Even now, Pearl finds herself glancing behind to make sure Cleo’s following once in a while, and she’s always surprised by the empty space where a fiery-haired zombie should be.

Their trio is already incomplete. Pearl dreads being the last one left of it.

All too soon, they’ve made it back to the ruins of the Scottage. Scott looks around, one hand on his hip, looking for all the world like he’s getting ready to scold some kids for vandalizing his house rather than searching for a place to die. She stays quiet, not wanting to force the moment to come any sooner than necessary.

Soon- too soon- he calls her over to a quiet little spot near their walls, untouched by the lava, soft moss under their feet. It’s nice. Peaceful. There’s even a couple of dandelions springing out of the ground nearby, blooming despite the chill of the forest they’ve chosen to live in.

It’s a very Scott spot to pick. He loves flowers and cute things and moss, of course it would be here.

Pearl swallows hard as he settles down in the grass with the air of a cat picking a comfortable spot to sleep. “Here?”

“Here,” Scott confirms. “Hang on a moment, though.”

“Yeah?” For just a second, she thinks he’s changed his mind, but all he does is take off his jacket and wrap it around her shoulders.

“There we go, we’re good now. Go whenever you’re ready.”

Her heartbeat is pounding in her ears, urging her on as she draws her favorite knife, the one that’s stuck with her through all the hundred fights of Last Life, the one that was enchanted using the table she and Scott stole from Joel.

Just kill him. He’s so vulnerable, Pearl’s mind whispers. Her heart is so loud she can’t hear anything else over the pulse of blood, each beat bringing them closer to the inevitable ending.

She rests her knife directly over his heart, between his ribs. The barest hint of pressure, and suddenly there’s a spot of blood blooming on his chest, and suddenly Pearl can’t do this.

Scott is smiling at her, a gentle look he spares for very few, but that can’t stop the panic swelling in her chest. She doesn’t want to- she can’t- her heart is still pounding, the voice in her head demanding blood, but Pearl doesn’t want blood. Not like this. Maybe if Scott fought back, forced her to choose between his death and hers, she could do this. But with his soft gaze on her, something fond in the edges of his smile as he lets her kill him- she can’t. Suddenly, Pearl has her answer to the question from earlier- it’s worse if their friends are watching them, if they’re witnessing her hands shake and her breaths come shallow as her knife rests over the heart of the one person who never did her any harm. If they’re witnessing her shame.

The world demands blood. Pearl can’t give that to it.

Words are falling past her lips before she can stop them, coming out shaky and breathless. “Scott, please, I can’t- please, not like this. Please, Scott, please.”

“Shh, shhh, I know,” Scott soothes. He reaches up, hands wrapping around hers where they’re clutching the knife with white knuckles. His eyes are gentle, sorrowful, when he promises “It’s going to be alright, Pearl.”

And before Pearl can stop him, he yanks the knife towards him, sliding between his ribs with perfect accuracy. He’s dead before his body hits the ground, a knife in his heart and a smile on his face.

Pearl doesn’t scream. She doesn’t sob, or call his name, or beg for this all to be a cruel joke on the part of the universe. She’s too well acquainted with the universe to think that any of its cruelty could ever be a joke.

Instead, she stares numbly at Scott- Scott, who was laughing with her not even an hour ago, who was the kindest person in this hell of a server, who was her friend.

The blood spreading on his chest almost looks like a flower.

Poppies, Pearl remembers. He loved poppies.

He never said why.

Now she’ll never know, just like she’ll never know why Cleo didn’t carry blocks on her, or why her teammates called themselves widows and laughed, bitter and resigned.

She picks poppies from around the map. She closes Scott’s hands around the bouquet, and she tries not to remember his hands closing around hers on the knife.

She buries him with the poppies, and puts her beanie on his head to keep him warm.

She plants flowers on his grave.

The tombstone- which no one but her will ever see- reads

Scott Smajor

Beloved friend and husband

“Live for me, will you?”

In the end, it comes down to this.

Pearl was willing to kill Scott.

Scott wasn’t willing to kill Pearl.

She sits at his gravesite, his jacket wrapped around her, and cries.

There’s no one but the poppies to hear her.

[fruitlicense]

I have a theory about one of the reasons why Lupin left Tonks in Deathly Hallows - if you look at his past, Remus Lupin has never really learned to live without moving or running, so when the chance comes to settle in one place, he doesn’t quite know how to cope.

We start with when he’s bitten by Fenrir Greyback. Remus was just under five years old, so this is effectively the beginning of his life besides some hazy childhood memories. He’s a werewolf now, which he has to keep secret, so his life can never really be “normal” again. He and his parents move a lot, because they can’t let anyone close enough to find out. Remus’ early childhood is marked by movement and secrets, because if he’s not literally moving homes, he’s moving around the people he knows, eventually avoiding them altogether by becoming homeschooled.

When Remus goes to Hogwarts, he’s not moving as much in a literal sense, since Gryffindor Tower is kind of his home base now. However, he’s still sitting on a secret that’s a little too big for him, and as a result, he’s moving around his roommates, trying to balance being friends and keeping them in the dark. This is a constant for him - he can’t take a break from hiding his lycanthropy. It’s always in the back of his mind.

When the Marauders find out, I think it’s interesting that their acceptance is characterized by their willingness and ability to “run” with Remus in a sense. Part of their friendship is being the school pranksters, going out on secret missions with the cloak and Map to help them stay steps ahead of everyone else and run or hide if they need to. When they become Animagi, they literally change themselves to keep up with Remus as he runs. They’ve stayed by his side as a human, running around together to cause mischief, and now they can keep pace with him as the wolf as well. Their willingness to change something as intrinsic as the ways they move shows how much the Marauders care about Remus and about each other in general.

When school ends, the war hits, and Remus joins the Order of the Phoenix, the moving, running, and hiding become more literal and more pervasive in his life. He’s part of an illegal underground organization that’s fighting a supremacist terror group, and his colleagues are getting murdered around him. Post-graduation for him isn’t a time to go to college, find a job, or find a more permanent place to live. He’s fighting Death Eaters, jumping from safe house to safe house, and dropping off the grid for long periods of time to live amongst the werewolves (presumably - I don’t have much canon basis for all of this beyond what we know of the second Order and assuming it functions much like the first). As a marginalized group, the other werewolves don’t have jobs or homes either. The nature of the way their condition is treated in the wizarding world means that they always have to keep moving, or else risk injury, imprisonment, and/or death. At this point in Remus' life,  the rule is keep moving and keep your secrets or die. Settling in one place is a death sentence, as the Potters find out.

After Voldemort is defeated the first time, Remus has to deal with the fallout of the war and what it did to his friends and family, and he also has to deal with trying to create a life for himself. His demons have increased in number - he’s not just running from his wolfish side now. He’s got the ghosts of James, Lily, and Peter to reckon with, as well as the specter of Sirius Black. He has to keep moving from job to job and place to place, not only because his lycanthropy means long-term employment is hard to find and requires him to find safe places to transform, but also because he doesn’t want his guilt and grief to catch up to him. We can assume that he doesn’t have a steady income or place to stay during this time, and it’s very likely that he has been homeless for periods of time. When Dumbledore finds him in that cottage in Yorkshire, the way it’s described - “tumbledown,” “semi-derelict” - makes me wonder if it’s a squat instead of a home, and Dumbledore just catches him at a short stopping point.

When Remus returns to Hogwarts, he’s again in one physical place, but he’s still moving a lot. He’s hiding his lycanthropy from the students and possibly some/most of the staff, so his personal life is still full of secrets. In addition, his job as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor doesn’t really lend itself to a calm career. He’s teaching his students about defensive spells and Dark creatures, and since a lot of his qualifications probably come from his experience of the first war, his daily routine is permanently linked to his trauma. Most importantly, he’s also hiding a lot of his history from Harry, because the central threat in Prisoner of Azkaban is tied directly to his backstory. He’s still moving around in a more figurative way, trying not to stay still long enough for someone to pick up on his patterns and expose him. When his secrets catch up to him, he becomes more erratic, forgetting his Wolfsbane Potion and expressing willingness to kill Peter Pettigrew without a second thought, a departure from his usual cool-headedness. He’s back in the mindset of the war, dropping everything at signs of danger and covering his tracks to move on to a new place, and Sirius, now an ally and friend once again, is keeping pace with him. “Together?” “I think so.”

When Snape exposes Remus’ lycanthropy to the school, he has to start moving again. We don’t know where he is between leaving Hogwarts and joining the Order again once it gets restarted, but we can infer that he probably experiences another year of itinerant living as he jumps from job to job and place to place. When he does “settle” (comparatively), he comes back to Grimmauld Place, but he’s clearly in a war mindset once again, and half the time he’s on missions and not even present in the house. Just because he’s apparently the Order member most frequently there with Sirius doesn’t mean that he’s present all that much, because Sirius can’t keep pace with him anymore. He’s being blocked by Dumbledore and is physically and emotionally stagnant while under house arrest, and we know by now that Remus must always keep moving to survive.

Order of the Phoenix is a turning point for Remus. With Sirius’ death, he finally outpaces his childhood - the last person who he was close to as a young man is now dead. Remus is effectively the last living Marauder (at this point, I would argue that Peter Pettigrew’s betrayal has removed him from Remus’ list of people he cares about and who care for him). It’s also when he meets Tonks, and their relationship grows from one of coworkers to friends to lovers in unseen scenes during and between Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince. She’s kind of a weird choice if you’re picking someone to sort of settle Remus and slow his pace, since I wouldn’t describe her as mellow exactly, but the fact of the matter is that Remus’ growing relationship with Tonks is an obstacle to his habit of movement. She keeps pace with him at first as a colleague/friend like the Marauders did, but her pace changes with her feelings, and she wants Remus to slow down with her. Tonks is stubborn and adamant about what she feels, and in her outburst after Bill Weasley is attacked by Fenrir Greyback, we see that she’s not willing to let Remus try to breeze past his feelings for her. She plants herself right in the middle of his path, and he’s forced to either stop or destroy her as he tries to push past.

Here’s the thing - Remus doesn’t want to stop moving, and we see him resist it, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing to slow down. If we parallel his habit of movement with his lycanthropy (since they’re already linked), we can infer that just as being a werewolf has left him scarred and in pain, constant movement takes a toll on him. Just because he’s lived this way his whole life doesn’t automatically make it healthy. The secrecy and isolation don’t make him happy, and they are directly tied to how much faster he’s moving compared to everyone else - trying to outpace the ghosts. Tonks, in directly blocking his path, is essentially staging an intervention to bring him back to a speed that his loved ones can keep up with. He still has her, Harry, and the Order, just as long as he stops trying to convince himself he’s better off alone and outrunning the dead.

The problem with this is that, as physics tells us, it’s not easy to stop an object that has had a set path of motion for most of its existence. Remus isn’t used to slowing or stopping, and he’s antsy to run again. The things he’s been trying to avoid catch up to him - self-doubt and self-hatred about his lycanthropy and its effects on his life, the need for adrenaline and movement that the wars have acclimated him to. When he feels like it’s all too much to handle, he falls back into his old track of movement in a hunt for something known and familiar. Even Harry notices this, comparing Remus to Sirius and accusing them both of wanting to be daredevils. Remus is trying to get back to the pace he ran at with the Marauders, but Harry argues that that’s not the pace Remus’ family needs him to be at. 

The only way for Remus to be content is to copy what Tonks showed him how to do - stand his ground and face the ghosts head-on. He has to go back home and learn to live a slower life if he wants to have a family, and he does want that. When asked what he would say to Harry on Potterwatch, he makes it clear that he is thankful for Harry’s intervention, and his later joy at Teddy’s birth is infectious. He fucks it all up initially, but Remus does eventually come to the understanding that the way he was living - constantly moving to stay ahead of his secrets and regret - wasn’t sustainable. He’s willing to try, and I only wish we’d gotten to see the just-barely-a-month he got to slow down with Teddy and Tonks.

The Battle of Hogwarts, in a way, proves my point about movement. Remus is forced to drag himself out of family life and back into the mindset of the war, and in a very Marauder-like impulse, Tonks decides to join him at his pace this time. I won’t say they doomed themselves, because the battle required them to exist at the pace of war, and they didn’t have a choice if they wanted to keep their loved ones safe. However, it is undeniable that it is the running that killed them. The movement of war is deadly, and this time, it hit the people we were wishing the most to escape it.

TLDR: Remus Lupin has lived his whole life trying to outrun his personal demons, and his behavior at Grimmauld Place in Deathly Hallows was a deeply shitty reaction to feeling out of his depth when living a slower life.

Sources:

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/remus-lupin 

https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/werewolves

(Sorry this is so messy! I was excited to write it and put it on paper as if I was speaking it in a sort of tangled stream of consciousness. I hope I got my point across okay!)

[pandoricpies]

Evil Fripp AU: Part 1

Based off of a post by @rebecawolfforest because idea overload; Avalon confronts Fripp about his suspicious practices

This was it. It was all or nothing. The man had finally made up his mind. He was done being complacent, done being threatened by a creature who barely measured up to his shin. It was time.

However comforting these thoughts seemed, they were as fickle as foolish hopes could be. Avalon wasn’t an idiot; he knew what the small blue squirrel was capable of - manipulation, mind control, torture. It came as no surprise to him that none of his fellow druids had attempted to do the very thing he was about to. Well, except one.

His brother had tried this before. The young man of twenty-three had grown tired of their supposed ‘leader’s’ shady practices and decided to take matters into his own hands. Of course, Avalon agreed his brother was dangerous. He recklessly researched and used unknown magic - dangerous magic. His carelessness however was not what earned him his banishment.....

He asked too many questions.

Avalon shivered in the cold evening breeze, shaking off these intruding thoughts. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes as his idiot older brother. He wouldn’t storm into Fripp’s Chamber, demand answers, and threaten the creature to get them. Instead, he would enter with a level head and calmly lay out his concerns to Fripp. The man was content in knowing he had the resources to fight back if the need surfaced.

Avalon continued his way up the rather steep incline to the entrance of the Secret Stone Circle, keeping an eye out for the beginning of the circular path. He averted his eyes from the small cottage placed at the side of the path. The man swore he could still smell that sweet perfume she always wore.

His feet finally began to follow the swirling path that would manifest the entrance portal. Undeniable nerves began to brew inside him. He knew Fripp wouldn’t appreciate the sudden traitorous behavior. His intent ruled over it all though; he needed to save those girls.

Those girls, those teenage girls, the one’s entrusted with saving an entire island. They needed to be worried about passing a history test, not demon squid monsters and psychotic old men. Avalon was determined not to let these ones fall through the cracks, not let the madness tear their friendship apart....

Not let him tear them apart.

The familiar soft twinkle of the portal began to grow louder as he made the final turns. Avalon stopped, staring at the pink portal as if it were a ticket to another life. This would certainly change his. With one last deep breath, he entered the magical gateway.

A cold shiver ran up his spine as he was teleported to the large stone circle, his feet finding the hard ground. Gathering his bearings, he took a look around the circle, his eyes scanning feverishly for the little blue creature. Fripp wasn’t there - he must be in his chamber.

Avalon sighed nervously, feeling the sweat grow in his palms. The worst was yet to come. He made his way over to the green portal, the portal that would take him to the creature - and his fate.

Here goes nothing.

After another trip through time and space, Avalon finally saw his target. Fripp was sitting at his desk, propped up on five lavishly decorated pillows. He looked up, a twitch of his nose the only indication that he recognized Avalon’s presence.

“Fripp, I’d like a word.” Avalon started, clearing his throat after speaking. He didn’t want to sound nervous. Show the first sign of weakness and that squirrel would be all over it.

“Hm?” Fripp squeaked, not taking his big brown eyes off of the old book in front of him.

“I’m here to inquire about the girls. Specifically Joana (MC) and furthering her training.” He explained. Avalon mentally punched himself - he was starting too passively.

“What of it? I’ve told you I will train her when I’m ready.” The creature finally looked up, eyes glaring at the man.

“All I’m saying is, the longer we let her go without the proper training, the more we run the risk of an accident. I’m sure you-“

“And are you implying that I allow you to train her? After what happened with the last one?” Fripp spoke, the spite evident in his voice. He loved to bring that up.

“I-No, I’m not. I’m simply advising that we take the measures necessary to ensure the safety of her and the other soul riders.” Avalon spoke through gritted teeth, unpleasant memories flooding his mind.

“I’d suggest you leave the advising to the high druids.” Fripp said condescendingly, waving his paw at the man as to dismiss him. This only fueled Avalon’s anger.

“I didn’t just come here to talk about them Fripp. I’ve come to discuss the rest of your recent doings. From sending young, untrained apprentices to do your bidding- not to mention the fact that you pin those girls against each other, telling Anne she’s excelling wonderfully and bitterly dismissing Alex, it’s wrong!” Avalon exclaimed, his voice louder and more dominating. The blue squirrel looked up at him, closing the book with his magic. He hopped from the tower of pillows to a side pillar, then onto a high bookshelf - just to be above Avalon.

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten who’s in charge here. I have reasoning behind my actions.” He turned his nose up at the man, little arms folded across his chest.

“Damnit Fripp! You really think I’m that blind? I know exactly what you’re up to! The secret meetings, the unaddressed letters with a ‘DC’ written in small black ink in the corner, your shallow response to the accident-“ Avalon was cut off abruptly by sharp pressure at the back of his skull. He heard heavy breathing from behind.

“Are you suggesting you’ve been going through my mail?” Fripp asked, his voice becoming hauntingly short and shallow. This was exactly what he had been afraid of.

A wand to his head, Fripp’s anger boiling over....

Nowhere to run.

“I’d always known it’d come to this with you. From the time I met you as a little boy, you were always curious... far too curious.” Fripp shook his head, pacing back and forth on the top of the bookshelf.

“And to add, Elizabeth’s demise was no accident. He stopped, turning his head toward the man, a small smile creeping on his face, “it was simply a step in the right direction.”

“Damn you! After everything she did for you, you bastard!” Avalon yelled, wet tears born of anger and sorrow stinging his eyes. He dared not move, but how badly he wanted to unleash his rage against the creature. How could he....

“Enough of the games Avalon. You’ve obviously discovered far too much.” Fripp nodded to someone behind Avalon, the wand being pushed even harder into his skull. Pain radiated through his head.

“What are you going to do, kill me? You need me. I’m the best seer you’ve got. I’m the only one who can tell if your poor followers are lying to you.” Avalon spoke, knowing full well his voice was shaking. Not from fear, but from the anger that continued to rage inside him.

“Oh no. That was not my intention at all. Death does not cause the most pain to a man. It summons an end. There can be no pain after the end.” Fripp explained, his eyes calmly moving around the room. It was as if he were discussing what color the drapes were to be changed to.

“The mind, my friend. The mind is the organ the man seeks to protect most. When the private mind comes under attack, the man begins to fold within himself. For there is no privacy nor comfort left for him.” The squirrel continued, his voice maintaining the calm composure. The subject matter made Avalon sick to his stomach.

“Your mind, Avalon. I will take away every last memory you have of her, of that wretched woman.” Fripp said, leaning off of the bookshelf as to be closer to the man’s face.

The man felt began to feel sick.

“I will take away the friendship, the care..... the love you two shared.” He continued, that same eerie smile returning.

Avalon swallowed, his stomach turning more and more with each word. He wouldn’t....

“I’ll take it all.”

[dreams-of-the-arcana]

Loosely based on this prompt! Tikos discovers an unexpected treasure one day!

Pairing: Kassamatik (Kassim Atesh @kassim-walks-on-air, Amaranth Silva @xvi-the-tower, and Tikos)

Warnings: Massive amounts of tooth rotting fluff, mentions of abandonment

In The Woods

“Uh, Kassim? Amaranth? Are you home? Helloooo.”

Tikos Katsaros-Yakinthos’ low voice called out as he opened the door to the trio's cottage. A small bundle held in his arms definitely resembled the shirt he’d left in. Which he was currently missing.

Kass and Ama appeared curiously and concerned. Tikos never used anything but nicknames unless it was important. Just hearing their real names coming from him was enough to put the two on guard.

“Ti? What’s wrong?” Amaranth quickly looked him over for wounds. Her golden eyes moved rapidly.

Kassim carefully reached out to place a hand on Tikos bare arm. Their eyes drew down to the bundle, it was his shirt but nestled in it...

“A baby!?”

The forest was not Tikos normal route home but he hoped that the side track would be worth it. Ilya had mentioned a patch of rare flowers appearing near the path when they’d met earlier for a drink. While Ilya was more interested in describing the medicinal properties, Tikos’ first thought was that his loves deserved a bouquet of beautiful rare flowers. Though as he walked through the steadily darkening forest he remembered why he stuck to the sea.

“Roots! Holes! Με δουλεύεις!* How do people do this to relax?” He muttered to himself as he tripped over another rock on the path.

It’d been a long time since he cursed the mob that stole his eye but he offered up a mean thought about boils and uncomfortable sitting for them. The lack of depth perception usually didn’t bother him because out at sea he compensated with his magic but the trees of the forest interfered with the air. He was about to give up when a flash of color caught his eye.

“Finally,” he muttered.

Quickly he moved towards it expecting to finally get his hands on those flowers. Or maybe run into some bandits. A beast, even. He readied his dagger. At that point he’d happily welcome anything to relieve the tension of his little hike. Something!

... except a baby sleeping soundly inside a hollowed out tree stump.

“Uh...”

After a thorough look around the area in case it was a trap, he quickly stashed the dagger back in its sheath and moved closer. Nestled amongst the moss was a baby with dark pink hair and sparkly rosy cheeks. His brown eye widened and his mind started spinning.

“Μα καλά, τι σκεφτόσουν?!* Who would leave a baby out here? What kind of parents do you have? Oh what are we going to do.”

“And so we waited for a bit longer to see if anyone came back but I couldn’t let them stay out there all night. Even with me there,” Tikos finished telling his story.

Kassim and Amaranth had taken the baby from him and sat with them on a soft rug near the fireplace. They’d recovered from the shock quickly and dived directly into protective mode. First insisting on keeping the baby warm and then properly fed. Tikos looked on from the kitchen where he prepared a bottle of milk.

“I’ll go back in the morning and maybe leave Kiki as a look-out. No one’s getting a baby back until we have a discussion.”

He shook his head at the idea of parents just leaving their baby in the middle of the forest. Who knew how long they’d been out there before he’d come along. Even worse, how long would they have stayed out there if he hadn’t taken the detour.

“Here μικρή γλαύξ,” Tikos said as he handed the bottle over to Kassim.

They picked up the baby and sat back so they could rest the baby in their arms to eat. A soft smile graced their lips as the babe eagerly took the bottle.

“Oh I know that look,” Amaranth looked at the scene and teased. “Pretty cute baby, hm?”

Kassim blushed and focused on the baby.

”Just wondering who could leave such a precious thing.”

“Someone who either had no choice or doesn’t deserve their baby back,” Tikos grumbled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of it and make sure they’re safe. Desperation can make people do things that seem cruel or odd on the outside but made sense at the time.”

He slid down to sit behind Amaranth and let his legs rest on either side of her then pulled her against his chest. His mind hadn’t stopped racing since he’d found the baby but finally relaxed knowing the three of them were doing this together now. Everything seemed better when he had them close.

Ama curled up close and the two watched Kassim and the baby quietly for a moment. It made for such a domestic scene.

The fireplace lit up the area with a warm glow as Kassim gracefully sat with this strange baby. Adoration was plain across their face at the bundle in their arms and the babe stared back with an equally content look. Curiously it looked as though their cheeks were sparkling even more now but it could just be the firelight. They’d swapped Tikos’ thin shirt for a mismatch of fabrics and clothes they could get to fit then topped it off by swaddling the babe in a clean blanket. When the bottle was done Kassim gently lifted them up to pat their back. Small burps sounded from them which only made the adults melt inside. While doing that they finally met their lovers eyes.

“What?” They asked but the deepening blush gave them away. “Um... what do... what do you think we should call them...?”

“I think it’s a little early for that, darling.” Amaranth cautioned.

Tikos and Kassim nodded. It was hard to not fall in love with the baby immediately but getting too attached would just make the separation harder. They all had to remember this baby had a family and could be missed at that very moment.

“I’ll fix up a drawer or something as a cot. That way they’ll be safe and can sleep next to our bed.”

Tikos offered and got up to start working on it. Kassim and Amaranth just smiled at each other, they knew it was already too late for their husband.

Tikos stared down at the forest floor in disbelief. There in the dirt was his arrow marker he’d left just the night before. But now it pointed directly to a small sapling in the ground.

”So... this was... a tree yesterday?”

Tikos pinched the bridge of his nose to try and tide the growing headache.

“Yes, a fully mature tree stump that was hollow. It was filled with moss! The whole baby was in it and not even touching the edges!”

Kassim inspected the sapling closely, nothing indicated it was recently planted. By their knowledge the sapling looked to be a good two or three years old. They looked around at the trees nearby but nothing fit the description.

”Are you... are you sure, vehana? I know you can get turned around out here and your depth perception magic gets confused...”

Tikos huffed slightly and looked away, he didn’t like to acknowledge any weaknesses but coming from Kassim he knew it was well-intentioned.

“I know, μικρή γλαύξ. I made sure to mark the right one, triple checked.”

Kassim nodded, if he was confident that he checked then they believed him.

“There’s something in the air here... it’s faint though...”

“I did feel something strange last night. It’s why I was eager to get the babe home. I thought I could just come back again but I wouldn’t let them sit around any longer... forests are weird.”

Tikos crouched down in front of the sapling. Conflicting emotions flickered through his eye.

“You sprung up quick, aye? Straight from the dying tree...”

Weeks had passed since Tikos’ discovery in the woods. No one came to claim the baby in the time so the trio decided to keep her until someone did. They let the captain of the guard know and got everything sorted out. It was left unspoken that the longer time went on the less likely the baby’s family would show up. The Captain was content to leave the babe in their care, he knew they would love and care for her as if she was their own.

“Γεια*, Seffy, Firebug, μικρή γλαύξ! Who’s home?”

Tikos' voice sounded throughout the cottage as he walked in. Laughter answered him and led him into the family room where he found the three of them.

“Welcome home, darling!” Amaranth managed through giggles.

He leaned against a doorframe in the room. Kassim and Amaranth sat on the floor with baby Persephone between them, wiggling happily. Toys and entertainment covered the area and was quickly becoming the new normal for them. Persephone, as they decided to call her, had captivated them all nearly immediately. It started slow with someone bringing home a new outfit or moving something out because it had hard corners then before they knew it, she was everywhere. Bottles lined their kitchen, pieces of cloth were strategically placed around in case of a spitty baby, and the drawer turned cot was a permanent fixture by their bed. Tikos even started sleeping on the end closest to Persephone since he slept so lightly. Any noise of discomfort or discontent woke him up right away. Oftentimes Ama and Kass would wake up to find him spread out as usual but with a hand draped over in her cot. They teased him incessantly but he just smiled and said he worried she’d get lonely.

Persephone giggled away as Amaranth and Kassim were taking turns playing peekaboo. Her cheeks sparkled still, they’d quickly realized it really was her sparkling and not a trick of the light. It was a pretty clear sign that she was happy and also not an entirely normal child.

Tikos walked over to give all three of them a soft kiss before taking a seat. Persephone wriggled and reached out towards him excitedly from Amaranth’s arms.

“Oh look who’s happy. Do you want to go to Μπαμπάς*, darling?”

They all froze at that.

Ama touched her fingers to her lips in disbelief. Only Persephone was unfazed and continued to reach for Tikos. A small rare blush bloomed on his tanned freckled skin.

“Ti, I... I didn’t... uh-“

“No, it’s... it’s alright actually. I... I think I could get used to it, aye?”

Kassim and Amaranth beamed as he took Persephone.

“What do you think, Seffy? Can I be your Μπαμπάς? If so, what will we call your other parents?”

He flashed his signature cheeky grin at his lovers who both suddenly shared his blush. None of them could have anticipated how one little detour would turn out. Not even Asra predicted that the hunt for some flowers would turn into finding something so much more precious: a family.

** Με δουλεύεις - Are you kidding me?

Μα καλά, τι σκεφτόσουν - What were you thinking?!

Γεια - Hello

Μπαμπάς - Dad

[shreddies-scribbles]

Hermitcraft Stardew Valley Au

hopefully no ones done this already hahah

i didnt get around to everyone oof maybe one day 

some background under da break 

-Background- -Concorp is the Joja of this AU -Most people have lived in hermit town most of their lives -The hermits are just one big happy family :,) -Most hermits are based off characters in the game but moved around to suit them more!

-Characters-

Mumbo -Local electrician -Extremely shy at first -As you get to know him he opens up and you see his giddy side!! -spent sometime in the city to try and make a name for himself,,, which didn’t really go to plan,, Relationships -Grian (best friends, when they’re not working they like to explore the woods!!He knows it’s one of grians favourite things to do and doesn’t want to let him go into the woods by himself, who knows what’s out there!) -Iskall (friend, helps mumbo when he’s experimenting with new circuits) -Xisuma (childhood friends, X is the one who convinced mumbo to move back from the city to the valley)

Grian -Works part time in concorp -Only recently moved to the valley to get away from his past in the city -Is friendly to everyone but only considers a few people his good friends, has some trust issues -loves exploring the valley, he likes the difference from the busy city life Relationships -Mumbo (best friends, had known mumbo from his short time in the city, when he moved to the valley he felt mumbo was the only one he could trust) -Iskall (friend, mumbo has introduced the two, immediately got along as if they’d known each other their whole lives) -Scar (met the wizard on one of his adventures in the woods and kept pestering him until the wizard finally broke and showed him some magic)

Iskall -owns the general store, Sahara (calls it his mega store of doom) -knows all the towns gossip from “overhearing” conversations on his shop -everyone considers him the heart of the town, he can put anyone in a good mood with that contagious laugh!! -Doesn’t like concorp... wants to get grian to work for him instead to get him outa that corporate chain!! Relationships -Stress (Best friends, whenever they’re together they light up the room with laughter and good times B^) Iskall likes to visit her ranch and see the animals) -Mumbo (admires mumbo for his amazing wiring skills, a little jealous of mumbo, he gets to have the job iskall always wanted, but he won’t let that get in the way of their friendship) -Grian (from the minute grian moved into the valley iskall knew he wanted to befriend him, his gut told him he wouldn’t want to be on grians bad side) -Ren (used to be really close but drifted overtime)

Stress -Owns the ranch -mostly produces dairy products but has some chickens too -she doesn’t like being on her own, so she likes to surround herself with friends as much as she can Relationships -Iskall (best friends) -Doc (roommates, she’s renting out a spare room to Doc, she can see past his icy cold exterior and knows that deep down he does care about his friends) -Cleo and False (being so few girls in the valley they all stick together, they meet up at the end of each week to gossip about the boys)

Doc -Works full time at Concorp, absolutely hates it -was studying to be a scientist in the city, but when and experiment went wrong causing him to lose an arm he lost all motivation -he wanted an escape from the shame the city brought him and seeked a new life in the valley -renting a room from stress but is rarely there, most of his days start at work then bring him to the saloon -he wants more from life but doesn’t know where to start relationships -Ren (Best friends, they always crossed paths in the mornings until eventually doc decided to introduce himself, the two hit it off and now see the other a brother) -Stress (Roommates, get on better than you’d expect! doc admires her strength and power too pull through the hard times and come out on the better side) -Beef (Friends, when you spend most of your days in the saloon you get to know the bartender pretty well lol) -Etho and False (he loves hearing their story’s from the mines, he’d love to join in but is too scared to put himself into danger considering what happens last time he tried something risky)

Ren -Aspiring actor, he likes to write short story’s and get his friends to act them out with him -Twin brothers with renbob -He’s a bit full of himself but aren’t all actors ;) -but all of his talk of making it big time in the city someday he is front, behind all the boasting is a lot of doubt in his skills and as he gets older the more he puts off moving to the city to start his career Relationships -Doc ( Best friends, doc is the only one rens ever shared his worry’s with, but doc always supports his acting career and encourages him to take that leap and follow his dreams) -Renbob (twin brother although they couldn’t be more opposite, ren loves city life, keeping up on trends and success while renbob is all about being one with nature and doesn’t care about his appearance or how people see him -Iskall (used to be really close but drifted overtime)

Renbob -Works in the saloon with Beef -all about that hippie life -not really a major character but he’s there!! :D relationships -Ren (twin brother) -Beef (Boss, but they get along great)

Bdubs -Carpenter!! need a house built?? you’ve come to the right guy -very bubbly and eXTREMELY outgoing -has a very strict sleep schedule which leads to strict working hours to ensure all his works done for the day -when he first moved to the valley he set out on building a huge house with lots of spare rooms to have guests over or to rent out Relationships -Cub (Roommate, cubs renting out a room to do research on the local flora and fauna, they won’t really talk much but bdubs admires his brains) -Keralis -Etho ( Ethos guilds club house is near to his home and since they were so near each other they became good friends)

Etho -Owns the miners guild -expert at monster fighting, he has the highest number of kills in the whole guild! (there’s only one other member... but let him have this!!) -keeps to himself most of the time but wishes he was closer to more people Relationships -False (guild mates, he admires falses skill with a sword, he thought her everything she knows) -Bdubs (he kept starting conversations whenever etho saw him so they become good friends, it took etho a while to get used to his bubbly personality) -Beef (they have a mutual respect from etho being a regular at the saloon after a day of fighting in the mines) -Doc (they aren’t that close but doc likes to listen to his story’s from the mines)

Beef -Owns the saloon -a jolly guy who’s friends with just about everyone, he knows his regulars more than some people who’d only be at the saloon after a long day -an amazing cook, prepares all the meals by himself Relationships -Etho -Doc -Renbob (employee)

Scar -the wizard who lives deep in the woods -extremely isolated but longs for more friends but he knows it’s a dangerous idea considering how his last friendship turned out -spends most of his days brewing up be potions or researching new spells Relationships -Grian (tried to keep his distance but grian kept pushing to learn some magic, scar gave in and thought him a transportation spell) -Cub (former friend, scar had to remove cub from his life when he was using him for research)

Cub -A scientist from the city researching what the valley has to offer -reports back to concorp unbeknownst to the others -knows what he’s doing is wrong... :( and wants to change but doesn’t know where to start Relationships -Scar (former friend, when scar found out what cub was up to he banished him from his tower, cub feels awful and wants to fix this) -Bdubs (roommate, renting a room from him in the mountains)

Xisuma -the mayor -gets sick easily, why he always wears a mask -loves his town and community and will do everything he can to keep everyone afloat -tends to distance himself from everyone so he can keep up his image Relationships -Mumbo (childhood friends) -Keralis (wishes he didn’t get that job at concorp...it’s been changing him :( )

Cleo -aspiring artist, preferred method of art is sculpture -lives in a cottage in the woods to get inspiration for her art -holds art exhibitions in the museum when she’s low on funds Relationships -Joe (best friends, with joe also working in the arts they love to brainstorm ideas together) -Stress and False (girl time B^> )

False -Works part time in sahara with iskall -spends most of her time in the miners guild club house or in the mines -etho recruited her to join the guild after seeing her in action down in the mines -someday soon she’s going to outrank etho in terms of monster kills but etho won’t admit that ;) Relationships -Etho (mentor, thought her how to fight properly and protect herself in the mines) -Cleo and Stress -Doc (they aren’t that close but have a mutual respect for each other, they sit together in the saloon most nights with etho)

Joe -aspiring poet -writes beautiful poetry but always doubts his skills and never published most of them -lives in a small hut on the beach, the seas always been a huge inspiration to him -has a pet dog, but the dog doesn’t have a name, he’s just waiting until the dog introduces himself Relationships -Cleo (best friends, an unlikely pair considering cleos outgoing nature but they just go perfectly together) -TFC (sometimes when joe goes to the mountain for some solitude he sits with tfc and listen to his story’s from his life, this has inspired quite a few poems)

thats all for now heheh, if any of that don’t make sense it’s cuz i wrote it at like 1 in the morning 😳

[logan-is-noggin]

Anxious beauty Part 4

word count:2239

warning: violence, fighting, character death

Patton, Janus and Remus rushed into the room just in time to see the very edge of Virgil's cape disappear and the passageway turn back into a fireplace. " how! What! Who? Where's Virgil?" The three spoke over each other. Janus thrusted his arms out to halt the other two. " this has to be Logan. He must still be trying to bring about the curse he placed on him years ago." They all blasted their wands at the flames, streams of yellow blue and light green combated the flames until the flames died and they could turn the hole into stairs. They rushed up the tower until they stopped in their tracks. Patton dropped to his knees and cried " we're too late!" Remus and Janus passed Patton and went straight to the body. Remus cradled Virgil's bloodied hand already drying. Janus studied the broken key in his other hand. " the key!" He said showing Patton " Logan was watching us all this time." Patton had crawled over to the Prince as well and was held his head in his lap. " he's still breathing guys." Indeed, Virgil was taking deep even breaths so slow he could have been mistaken for dead. " what do we do now blue?" Remus asked. Patton pointed to the bed up the last two steps. " there. Bring him there." They all lifted him onto the bed. Patton folded his hands over his chest. Then he took the pieces of the key and tossed them out the window. " what do we do now? Tell the king? Go after Logan?" Janus pondered. Still staring out the window Patton shook his head. " we don't know how long Virgil will be asleep for, a few hours? days? Years? We need to make them all sleep. That way no one will know what happened." They agreed on the plan, then turning themselves small, they flew throughout the kingdom, casting a sleeping spell on everyone in town, including the two kings

Patton stretched and yawned after he stopped telling  The story. " alright kiddo, it's pretty late. We can finish the story in the morning." Roman looked distraught as Patton took the snacks into the kitchen to clean up. Instead Roman glanced over at Logan who had been reading a book while listening. Out of nowhere, Roman launched himself at Logan.

Patton dropped the bowl in the sink when he heard Logan's distress and ran back to find Roman on the ground yelling " how could you do that to my Prince you friend!" While shaking him. Patton got the two separated and as Logan straightened his glasses he said " I'm beginning to regret allowing you to use my likeness in the story Patton." " Roman, apologize to Logan. For the last time, you know how the story goes. You've watched the movie more than anyone. heck you've even acted out the story in the imagination!" " I know. And I'm sorry teach. I just get extra passionate. Especially about my favorite Prince. Other than myself!" Patton shook his head and Logan bid them goodnight as he sunk down to his room.

After breakfast everyone, including Virgil, who hadn't been around for the first parts of the story gathered to hear Patton tell it's end.

Roman rode into the forest. Using clouds instructions, he found the cottage easily.  Surely if father would meet him and see how perfect they were together, he would annul their betrothal. A marriage certainly wasn't the only way to unite their kingdoms. He reigned rose to a nearby peach tree where she happily started to munch the sweet fruit. He knocked on the closed doors. Calling into the darkness " cloud? I've returned." He pushed open the door walking into the main room of the house. Only to find someone sitting in one of the chairs. Twirling his glowing staff. With a hand on his sword, he approached the table "Ah, young Prince Roman. I was wondering when I got to meet you." "Surely we have not met. How can you know me? I am looking for my beloved. He lives here. His name is cloud." Roman said warily. Logan rolled his eyes while giving a sinister chuckle. " that really is the stupidest name I've heard for anyone. Much less... a Prince." " what are you saying?"   " I'm saying that your love of water evaporation, is Prince Virgil. Your true betrothed of your youth. I'm afraid however. It is too late for you two to ride off into the sunset." " what have you done you monster!" Cried Roman. Logan just laughed as he disappeared.

Roman was enraged that he stormed out of the house and back to his horse. Then with haste he rode out of the forest. He saw three lights fly past him before turning into full sized men. " you are Prince Roman?" Janus asked. They all seemed out of breath and very worried. " I am. Who are you?" " we are the three fairies. We raised Prince Virgil away from the palace in hopes to keep him safe from the sorcerer Logan's curse." "A lot of good that did" Remus added. " thank the gods! I just came from the cottage. Logan was there. What has happened to my Virgil?" " Logan's spell has taken effect. Virgil stabbed his hand and has gone into a sleep. So we too have made the kingdom sleep until we break the spell." " you must lead me to him so i-" A crash of thunder and bolt of lightning struck Thomas's castle from a swirling band of clouds. " I'm afraid you must defeat Logan himself before we can save Virgil." So the four raced back  until they found that the castle was covered in thorny vines that stretched for miles, blocking any hope of rescue. " there! I can see Logan atop that rocky ledge." The four raced to the base of the plateau. Roman had to stand on roses back to catch the first hand hold and used it to pull himself up. He turned back when Patton called. He used his wand to summon a large shield that shone silver with a red strip diagonally across. He tossed it to the Prince. "Sadly our powers can not be used for violence. It is the oath we swore. You must defeat him, Prince Roman." Roman climbed and climbed having hooked the shield to his belt til he reached the landing Logan was on. " stop this madness and return the kingdom as it was. Or taste the wrath of my sword!" He shouted, unsheathing his weapon, the shield in the other hand. Roman lunged forward, ready to slice the witch. But Logan threw a handful of magical blue fire towards him. He thrusted his shield out in time to hear it fizzle away. He charged on, Logan swept around toward the opposite end, leaving Roman nearer the cliffs edge. They fought on. Roman and Logan both sustaining blows from the other. Logan retreated. His eyes glowing light blue. As too the air around him began to shine. " let us see how you fare against my true form!" He cried as the magic overtook him and he began to grow. Larger and larger. His skin turning hardened by scales black and blue. His arms turning into wings, tipped with blue claws. His back growing long and spines tipped the ridges. A tail with similar spikes reached out behind him. Finally his face elongated into a snout and sharp teeth whose force could easily break bone.

" Dragon witch!" Roman uttered in shock. He couldn't let himself be distracted at the feat his kingdom needed him. Virgil needed him. With a great cry he charged the monster, sword pointed out. But had to cover with his shield as the Dragon breathed a shot of blue flames down. He forced himself to keep running under it. Trying to look for a weak point. He was hit by the creatures tail and thrown, hitting the stone hard.  His sword scattered out of his grip and off the edge of the cliff. He cried for the fairies to help him. While he could only hold his shield in front to protect himself. Remus was the one who flew up with the sword in hand. The weapon seemed to flow with its own magic. Roman grabbed it and charged back into battle. His sword his the beasts sides but the scales made for little damage. Roman circled the Dragon, making it take the position closest to the edge. The beast reared up on its hind legs to attack. When Roman cried out as he hurled his sword through the air. It caught the beast in its chest and the sound of its roar was the loudest thing any of them had heard. Losing its balance, the Dragon formally known as Logan, fell to the ground below, taking Romans sword with him.

On his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath, Roman took account for any injuries. A few burns on his hands and face. His outfit too was singed. But it was worth it. Patton was soon at his side. " all you alright Prince roman? You're hurt." He waved the fairy off as he shaking stood. " that can wait Patton. Will you help me down to rose? Logan is gone, we can finish this." With Patton flying and holding onto him they got down the cliff easily. Rose was a few yards away from where they left her, " where are your compatriots?" "They flew ahead to try and clear away a path through the thorns once you lost your sword." " I am grateful for them." He reached a hand Down" ride with me, let your wings rest." Patton held onto Romans shoulders as he urged rose into a full gallop. Soon they could make out yellow and green sparks as they blasted away the thorns. Roman noticed that the vines were withered and dark now that he that spawned them was no more, they broke easily. Roman charged through, the three fairies clearing the way in front.

Once at the fallen drawbridge, Roman left rose at the gate and with the fairies guidance, found his way into the tower.  Once he reached the landing, Roman stopped in his tracks. Sure, the fairies had told him about what had happened to Virgil. But seeing him. Laying on the bed perfectly still aside from the slight rise and fall of his chest. Roman approached the bed. Looking down . He felt guilty that his Prince, his cloud, had been put through this. All because he put the pieces together in time. Roman knelt on one knee next to the bed and slowly leaned forward. Placing a kiss to Virgil's lips. At once, color came back to his face that before had gone slightly gray. His eyes squeezed shut before opening. Roman caught him when he threw himself into Romans arms. Words couldn't express the relief to be together again. They just held each other until the more pairs of arms took over embracing Virgil as well.

An hour later found Virgil and Roman back in the chamber Virgil was originally brought to that afternoon. Romans injuries had been tended to as well as a new royal suit. The wound on Virgil's hand had disappeared as if it never existed. Once Virgil had woken, so too did the rest of the kingdom. The fairies had gone to the kings to announce Virgil and Romans arrival. Patton hinted to them that all would be explained in time. While music from the throne room could be heard in the distance, Virgil stood at the window. Looking down at the guests arriving. " why didn't you day something? That you were a Prince, and your name?" Roman said from behind him. " when we met, I had no knowledge of my royal status. The fairies never treated me as royal. I was just... me. And I suppose I was nervous about sharing my true name. You probably would have laughed." He said crossing his arms. " of course I wouldn't. At first, I was ready to break off the marriage to Virgil, in favor of cloud. I imagined he couldn't be too upset to be in an arranged marriage." Virgil turned to face him " while you are right that I was unhappy to marry someone I did not know. If I knew you had left me for some peasant in the woods, Logan's fire would be as a candle next to my anger." Roman laughed. " none of that matters now." He placed kisses on Virgil's hands before a knock on the door drew their attention. Patton entered, bowing neatly to the pair. " they're ready for you guys." " well, are you ready?" Virgil asked Roman? " Not quite." Roman went to the corner of the room, scooped up Virgil's crown and brought it back. He placed it lightly on his brow before extending his arm which Virgil took. " now I'm ready."

"And they all lived happily ever after." Patton ended. Virgil sat from his usual spot on the stairs. " why'd you make me the princess?" " as, didn't you enjoy the story virge?" Patton asked. " yeah yeah it was fine. But why was I the princess?" " because you're the fairest of them all!" Roman said grandly, joking about the emo sides complexion. Virgil and Logan groaned at the pun as Virgil left for his room.

[florencwrites]

echoes, page one 〚dreamwastaken〛

He has left her to fend for her own, although unwillingly, she no longer has the comfort of his safety net running below her. She sits by the entrance of the portal that leads to him, desperate for a way to bring him home. The echoes of wailing obsidian are burned into her mind.

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"There's nothing you can do for him, love." A firm hand landed on her shoulder, effectively bouncing along as it caught ahold of her trembling body. She was sat on her knees, both hands gripping onto the warm base of the obsidian portal, still smothering as the guard had hastily suffocated the purple flames before her eyes. "There's nothing you could've done."

She contemplated staying quiet, letting her sobs tell her story for her. Instead, she opted for a simple, "You're a liar, Sam."

A dry, but genuine, chuckle left his lips at her remark as he crouched to her height. His hand unclenched by his side, reaching over to tuck a piece of her hair back behind her ear. "We're getting you home now, okay?"

She nodded into his palm, closing her eyes in hopes of just forgetting for a second. To no avail obviously, as soon as her lids enclosed over her teary eyes all she saw was him. Him screaming and trashing in their hold, trying his utter best to get them to release him for just one more minute. Barking her name, assuring her that he would be fine and that he'd see her soon.

The absolute look of terror in his eyes had given him away though, she knew immediately that this was no ordinary case of civil unrest. His pupils were drowning in sorrow as Tommy continuously threatened not only his but her life, as well. Niki held her sobbing body in her gentle arms, cocooning her from the harsh reality of circumstances. Her normally tender voice was now harsh against the teen, her tone cold as she scolded him, "Tommy, leave her be."

Before Tommy could retaliate, Dream's voice had echoed through the base, warning the young blonde with absolute venom laced in his tone, "Watch your fucking mouth, Tommy." He grunted as a harsh punch was catapulted into his stomach, "Before I make sure no one knew Philza even had any sons to begin with."

Another wail escaped her lips, she was terrified about what was going to happen to him, maybe even more so than him. They handled him like a dog with untreated rabies, she'd seen them maneuver a goddamn war criminal with more humanity than him. Sapnap trailed to the front of the group, anxiously shaking his axe against his thigh rhythmically. He was the first to succumb to the dark violet flares. He stood with his head facing the stone, too ashamed to even glance at her, to see the tremble in her lips as he took away the one thing that had assured her safety. His body disintegrated in mere seconds, right before they hoisted Dream's beaten body onto the platform. Niki had caressed her hair as the men slowly dripped out of the room, now only filling it with her silent sobs and the ticking of George's boots as he anxiously paced behind them, the two of them so desperately wanting to just turn back time.

Sam was a good person, she knew that. She was rational enough to realize that he was not the reason for her love being locked up, he was not the sole culprit; if even any. He lifted her from the flushed floor, holding her waist as she steadied herself on her feet. She'd been sitting in the opening of the portal for hours on end, waiting for the flames to finally take her through. Alas, they wouldn't accept her into their hold, leaving her to quietly perish in her own guilt.

However, as he turned her body to face the exit of the small, broiling room, her eyes fell upon the men standing in the doorway. Ranboo stood first, shooting her a sympathetic smile as he gently pulled on the lead he was holding, urging for the donkey she had grown so attached to reveal itself. Then, Tubbo. Immediately he stepped forward to wrap her into his arms, whispering a soft apology into her hair. She slipped her eyes closed as soon as her body slotted into his small frame, allowing herself to get lost in his hug, granting herself a moment of feeble safety.

As her eyes opened, though, they immediately landed on the boy. The one boy that had so viciously threatened her life, that had so instinctively violently assaulted her, as soon as the truth was revealed. Dream's truth, that is, she had no part in it whatsoever. Dream had been adamant about that, leaving her out of all of his plans. She'd only grown suspicious when he started insisting on her having a totem on her at all times, even when going out for small tasks as replanting her crops.

There was one moment that had opened her eyes to Dream's obvious deceit, that one afternoon where he'd promised to take her on one of his adventures, adventures he had been taking daily for weeks. He always went on his lonesome, promising her that she wasn't missing out on anything as well as that he would always safely return to her.

But then, then their horses trudged through the snow, leaving the grasslands for tundra. They zigzagged through ragged treelines, avoiding large branches as well as hidden, frozen ponds. They stumbled upon a humble abode, threatening to get overshadowed by surrounding spruces and towering piles of snow.

Before she knew it her donkey had been fastened to a nearby tree, her thick cloak hung on the wall, and a cup of tea pressed into her hands. Techno had always been terribly nice to her, she recognized as much, offering her home-cooked food and even upgraded armor for both her and her donkey. However, he'd seemed to have forgotten that a donkey is in fact a tad tinier than his enormous stallion, so in the end, it was more of a sweet gesture than anything else. He'd taken her outside to try and fit Bastard with at least some leg warmers, a rather fruitless attempt at best, but it was kind nonetheless.

When they had returned to the small living room, at last, there was not a single hint of life detectable in the entire cottage. He had left her, more so; he had left her in the hands of Technoblade. His sworn, life-long foe, was with whom he had left the love of his life. Which is when her mind puzzled together that there was a chance that there had never been a hidden initiative to protect the King, but who was she to try and interfere with his business. She was safe and fed, and while Techno was his foe, he certainly wasn't hers.

Tommy stared into her gaze with widened pupils, his mouth slightly stammering, trying to think of anything to say. He stuttered over his words, making Tubbo retreat minimally from the hug to turn and shoot him a look. The blonde swallowed nervously as Sam muttered a soft, "Go on."

"Fine." His demeanor changed to fit his usual indifferent and nonchalant ambiance, "I am sorry for what I said. You are not a bitch and I shouldn't have said that I would gut your donkey."

"Bastard." She whispered softly, tears streaming down her face. He was a good kid, she knew that. And while he had played a ginormous part in the tragedy that had become her life, she recognized that he had been on the right side of history, she recognized that he was a child, and she recognized that she still loved him ever so dearly as before. She calmly opened her arms, not only to release Tubbo from her hold fully, but mostly to invite the scarred boy back into her life, "His name's Bastard."

[the-fae-folk]

The Witch with the Stone Hand

Some stories don’t have happy endings...or endings at all. They just keep going sadly on, a tragedy of living without the decency to finish the tale and tell something happier. It happened years ago, when a boy named Bran was very nearly seventeen. There were only three days until his birthday, and he was nearly bursting with the excitement and anticipation of it, so much so that his stomach had started to ache. But he didn’t mind, for his mother had promised that it would be a day to remember for years to come. Bran’s twin brother Than, who was his closest friend in the whole of the world, gave him a set of colored pencils. It was three days early, but Than said he couldn’t wait to see what Bran would make with them and that Bran would get plenty of other presents when the day came.

There were a lot of drawings, at first. A sketch of the forest edge that could be seen from the upstairs window between their two beds, the old rusty weather vane shaped like a hedgehog that their grandpa had made years before when he built the house, and the image of their mother from behind as she played the piano in the parlor downstairs. Despite only having had the colored pencils for less than a day, Bran had always liked drawing and painting, so the pictures he made now were beautiful, almost lifelike. And when their mother saw them she gasped in delight and praised them mightily. She asked if there was a story that connected all of them together, because she knew that Than liked to tell stories like that, stories that connected people and places, connected things in unexpected ways. So he told a story. He told of how when the wind came from the North and blew just enough to turn the old hedgehog weather vane towards the South, and the sky was overcast with thunderous gray clouds, a path would appear that led deep into the old pine forest beyond the house. If you went that way, past the woman who played Tiersen’s “Comptine d’Un Autre Été“ on the piano, down the lawn, and towards the towering pines of the woods, you would find a road through the trees that hadn’t been there yesterday. It led to a little house in the darkest part of the forest, built into the base of the oldest and biggest tree in the whole wood. There lived an old Witch who could grant wishes to in exchange for a light from a lantern, which she could never obtain because she had been cursed by the North Wind. Whenever she tried to light a lantern herself or gather the light from one she found, the breeze would snuff it out before she could get close. It was a whimsical tale, but a delightful one, and everyone thought it was wonderful. Bran was so impressed that he drew a picture of the Witch with his pencils, making her old but kind looking, and giving her a hand of stone. When Than asked why, Bran could only say that it felt right. The second day was when Than disappeared. A storm had come in the night and blown part of the roof down, so in the morning, nobody thought to check and see where Than had gone. He was already gone when Bran got up, so his brother simply assumed he had already gone downstairs, and their mother assumed he was still abed. It wasn’t until the debris  had been cleared away to make room for breakfast that anyone noticed that one person wasn’t around. All day they searched and found no sign of him. The police came, but they couldn’t help much. They took a description of him down and a smiling picture that had been hastily snapped by their Aunt Emma just before the school dance earlier that year. For the first time in all his life, Bran was alone in the room he shared with his brother, and it was a long time before he could sleep. When he did at last drift away, his dreams were uncomfortable and frightening. Filled with dark paths beneath towering trees and a cottage deep in the woods where a witch lived. When morning came again, the sky was grey and overcast and the wind blew in from the North. Bran looked out his window that morning to see that the weather vane had been blown to point towards the South, the rusted old hedgehog almost seemed to be looking out at something, at the old forest. Remembering his brother’s tale, Bran looked for a path, and there it was. So he borrowed an old lantern from the attic, an oil one that hadn’t been used since his grandfather was a little boy, and snuck past his mother who was playing the piano. It was the same song she always played, but today it was agitated, anxious. She was thinking about Than, and was only playing to keep herself occupied, to stave off her worries. Bran followed the path into the trees, and sure enough it was exactly as his brother had told. A winding dark road beneath the trees, and built into the base of the oldest and biggest tree was a cottage. When he knocked, the door was answered by an old woman who looked exactly as he had drawn the day before yesterday, right down to her left hand which was made of stone. “What is it you wish, child?” she asked him. And he explained about his missing brother. So she drew him in and laid out a spell for seeing things from afar. Her eyes traveled back to the night of the storm. She saw Than as he got out of bed and climbed out onto the roof where he liked to sit and write whenever he couldn’t sleep. The wind picked up and he did not go in. Thunder rumbled in the distance and he glanced worriedly up, but did not go inside. It wasn’t until the first droplets of heavy rain splattered down onto his notebook that he got up to go back in. But the storm had been growing for quite some time, and it struck. He wrestled against winds, pushing his way to the window. He never made it. The wind took part of the roof, and he fell. You may have wondered, as the old Witch did, why they didn’t find his body when they all went looking for him later on. Well when he fell, he went through the old cellar window hidden by the brambles and the bushes. That cellar hadn’t been opened since their great grandmother had died nearly seventy years ago. Bran’s mother hadn’t even remembered there was a cellar at all. She would recall it later on when police search parties in the woods would turn up no sign of Than, and she would break the lock on the heavy wooden door that someone had put a shelf full of cans in front of years before. She would find the body of her son, and she would hold him close. She would not cry. No tears could ever reveal the depths of despair a mother feels at losing her child. She would simply hug his body tightly and feel like the entire world had come to an end in a single moment. All this the Witch saw, and her face must have shown something, for Bran knew that she could not return his brother to him, not even with a wish. But the Witch was not about to let him go home with nothing. She offered him a chance at a different story. A story where he could explore wondrous places and meet all kinds of people who could never die and might even become close friends. A story where he did not have to return home to a mother whose heart was slowly breaking, to a twin brother who lay dead in a forgotten cellar, to a birthday which would never again be happy. And Bran? He said yes. He offered her the glimmer of light from the lantern, but she told him to keep it, and tucked it deep away into his heart for safekeeping. Then she transformed him into the shape of a bird, a crow to match his name, and gave him a body of stone and blurred his memory so that he could never be hurt by what had happened. Then as the distant sun was setting beyond the trees she sent him on his way, deeper into the forest and cross an ancient divide that few humans ever returned from. Midnight came, and Bran was seventeen. And Bran was no more.

[seokiloquy]

I’m Your Baby, Right? - Bokuto Koutarou

AU: Magic

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN Reader, Witches/Wizards (and so on) are not gendered terms they are descriptors of specific magic practice, also the reader gets called ‘mama’ but it really doesn’t have anything to do with their gender.

Word Count: 5.5+

Your hands worked gently into the shoulders of the older woman as she slowly knocked back a steaming cup of tea. The dainty container was painted with intricate yellow patterns along the edge but was hidden by the woman’s swollen fingers. Similarly, her feet were lifted on a footrest as she waited for the swelling to go down.

A fluttery breath escaped her as you lifted your hands off the warm skin of her exposed shoulders. “You’re an angel, (L/N). This tea is lovely.” Taking a hand off the cup, the older woman rubbed her swollen belly with gentle strokes, shifting the silk fabric with every swipe.

“I’m not an angel, Mrs. Hooper. But thank you.” You reach for your supplies, placing the dried herbs and flower petals back into their respective jars before dropping them into your satchel.

“Oh pshh, you are nothing short of magic.”

Swinging the leather bag onto your shoulder, you smiled at the pregnant woman. “I wouldn’t be a witch without magic, now would I?” You padded your matching leather shoes toward the house’s main entrance, eager to get out of the pristine home filled with golden antiques that you could never dream of having in your little cottage. “Tell your husband to walk over with the money when he gets home, you need to stay sitting or you’ll pop!”

Mrs. Hooper let out a light laugh while waving you out from her reclined seat in the middle of the main room. The beautifully carved door closed behind you gently behind you as you walked down the concrete stairs to the main road. People rushed past you quickly, eager to get onto the train cart before it rolled it’s way to another part of town, apologizing as they knocked you into the fancy home’s metal stair rail.

Heading in the opposite direction of the pedestrian traffic, you took calm steady steps toward the town’s south edge where the houses gradually became smaller before hitting a grassy field followed by a wall of tall pine trees. The town was filled with ringing bells and stomping feet as people ran to their jobs. 

At the edge of the town’s centre, the concrete roads turned to stone paths and houses became sparse. Looking across the grassy field, past the scurrying children that dirtied their clothes with pesky grass stains and dirt, you saw your little house peeking out behind the first row of trees, surrounded by wild flora.

The kids and their parents waved to you as you walked past.

The wooden door creaked in agony as you pushed it open, croaking again as it swung shut. You kicked off your shoes, leaving them by the door as you stepped toward your kitchen table. A raspy purr emitted from the previously empty flower basket on the table, vibrating like an old man puffing out his last breath of cigar smoke. You peaked your head over the woven basket rim.

“Hi there, Mika. Are you tired?” Small coos bubbled out of your chest as you scooped the scruffy black cat into your arms. She twisted lazily, clawing at your cotton sleeves in an attempt to escape back into the basket. “No you don’t, you old geezer. It’s time for your medicine.”

The elderly familiar yowled as you cradled her in your arms, still trying to claw her way out as you reached for a needless syringe to place in the crook of her maw. “Don’t fight me now, you runt. You know I’ll win, you’re old, and a cat!”

Medicine safely down the short-haired cat’s throat, you set her free to wander around with hunched shoulders. You slumped into the chair that sat at the desk of all your jarred herbs and candles, watching the cat slowly crawl her way back to her favourite pillow and blanket. She struggled to jump up onto the couch. The sight made your stomach hurt.

As you climbed up the ornate astronomy tower attached to a large home near the center of town, you could hear voices echo into the stairwell. You took careful steps, listening to the stairs creak and keeping your hand gripped tightly to the railing.

“Akaashi, please. You got to tell me! This is important life info I need to hear.”

You pushed the wooden door at the top of the stairs open, leading you to a large circular room with shelves lining the walls filled with books, star maps, and questionable ingredients. Colourful silk scarves hung from the ceiling along with a spherical chair that suspended itself above the opening to the balcony, on the desk in the center of the room was a large black pot with a bubbling purple liquid over a heat source.

“Mr. Hoops, though I do specialize in magic of many forms, including fortunes, predicting the colour of your child’s hair does not require magic. They will be brunette, just like you and your wife.” Next to the bubbling pot was the town’s magic masterer, holding the titles of magic expertise as a warlock, enchanter, alchemist, and wizard, giving him the responsibility to respond to most of the towns inexplicable problems and often getting involved with predicting someone’s most likely future.

Flicking his hand over the top of the pot, the fire beneath it stopped and began to settle down, turning into a deep blue colour. He brushed the side of his blue and gold robes out of his way as he came to stand beside you, nodding in thanks as he took a small pastry from your hand.

“Now, Mr. Hoops, I have to work with (L/N) here, magic stuff, so if you could be so kind to escort yourself out and give your wife some company back home?”

The balding man nodded with a huff, wobbling past you to the door as he adjusted the black vest on his shoulders. He gave you a nod of acknowledgment as he adjusted the ribbon that was pinned over the heart of his chest, reading ‘Mayor’. Brushing a few thin hairs on his head, the door shut behind him with a gentle click.

“Akaashi, I hope I wasn’t interrupting.”

“Don’t worry, little witch, that man has been coming here every day for the past week hoping I could give him a fortune about his unborn child.”

You followed the enchanter to his center table, taking a seat on the round wooden stool he magicked out from under the table for you to recline on. You watched his flicking hand with an exasperated laugh before settling onto the seat. A little pygmy owl flew onto his shoulder, ruffling its feathers when it landed.

“So, what can I help you out with?”

You played with the baggy sleeves of your shirt, following Akaashi with your eyes as he pulled an empty glass container off his shelf and scooped a large amount of the blue liquid with a metal ladle. Slowly, he poured the smooth liquid into the glass jar. You gulped, suddenly feeling the need to drink some water. “I was wondering if you had any reverse ageing potions? Or something along those lines. Mika is getting old and you know a witch is nothing without their familiars. She even had trouble getting to her bed yesterday.”

Akaashi closed the jar with a pop of its lid. “That poor thing,” he said. “I have a few things that might work. But you should talk to Bokuto about familiars, it’s his area of primary study.”

Feeling heat crawl up your neck you shook your head rapidly, to the point of making the stool wobble beneath you. Thin wooden legs slamming into the floor. “Ah, no-no. That’s alright. I wouldn’t want to interrupt his studies.”

Akaashi scoffed as he reached for one of his many leather-bound books on his shelf as well as a few odd ingredients. “That man, for a want-to-be wizard, doesn’t put much effort into his more magic-based studies. But he is good with animals.”

A small whisper of ‘I know’ came meekly out of you, as Akaashi placed all the items on the table before you.

“This is probably all you need, read the instructions carefully. And just so you know, the potion probably won’t work for the long term.”

You nodded thankfully, standing from your seat. “While I’m here, do you want me to check on that wrist of yours?”

Akaashi gave you a small grin before waving his dominant hand in rapid flicking motions. “Thank you, but your tea and spell did just the trick.”

As you gathered your gifted supplies into your satchel Akaashi slowly made his way to the room’s exit, kindly gesturing you out. A snort escaped him as you suspiciously looked at a vial of red liquid before dropping it into the leather bag as well.

“Would you like me to escort you out, I can call Bokuto if you’d like.” A cunning grin cut into his cheek.

“No no, it’s okay. I can manage.” You walked through the doorway, looking up at the circular curve of the frame, before rushing down the steps. Akaashi’s laughter bubbled through the cold stairway.

Reaching the ground floor, where the main living space was, you sneezed as a bit of fluff tickled your nose.

“Sorry, little witch. Molly was shedding a bit more than normal.”

Even with your eyes squinted shut from your sudden sneeze, you could recognize the other person in the room. Your shoulders scrunched up to your eyes, fighting the heat that tried to crawl up your neck at the sound of the familiar loving wizard’s rough voice. An embarrassed laugh and cheeky grin nearly escaped you before you managed to school your expression into one of mild interest.

“A bit more?”

On the other side of your closed lids was a sight that desperately made you want to fall to your knees in a fit of adoring giggles.

Bokuto, from the tips of his raised hair to the bottom of leather boots, was covered in horsehair. The white stuck to him like glue, flying back as he brushed them away. He gave you a lopsided grin while picking fluff off of his shoulders. Your eyes followed the flexing of his upper torso underneath his white stable boy shirt. Across the width of his chest and along the length of his shoulder before trailing down his bicep, they grew in size as he reached for the opposite shoulder.

You gulped.

“So what’re you doing here anyway? Ooh, I like your outfit! It looks good.”

His eyes were very golden when you actually chose to look at them instead of the floor, they were sparkling. You adjusted the armholes of your ribbed vest, letting you large sleeves puff out a bit.

“Just grabbing a potion from Akaashi.”

“Oh Really?” his neck extended as stretched up in excitement. “I’m working on my curses and potions. Can I show you when I perfect them?!”

You responded with a happy grin. “You can show me at any time.”

“Yes!” In the corner of the pair’s kitchen, a squeak was heard. Bokuto gasped suddenly before shuffling through the cupboards with wild hands, knocking spices, jars and small bags out in haste. The muscles in his back seemed to threaten to rip through the seams of his shirt. “Peanut, no! You rat, get out of there!” He spun his head around to give you a big shiny smile, hand still tucked in the shelving. A small bird flew through the kitchen window, landing on his head with a satisfied chirp. “I’ll see you (L/N)!”

You left the warlock’s and his apprentice wizard’s home grabbing the strap of your old bag. Keeping the mental picture of bird nest Bokuto fresh in your mind

“Virgin blood.” Your brow furrowed as you looked from the leather spellbook that was laid out on your wooden table to the small vial that sat delicately between your fingers. “Where does he get this stuff?”

On the same table, between your cast iron pot and a large bouquet of dying flowers, Mika lazily played with a young mouse that was none-the-wiser about the harm that could come it’s way. Her claws never stretched out to hurt the small rodent though.

“One drop of virgin blood,” you read the line aloud as you followed. “Pinch of salt. Stir for 5 and settle for 24 hours.”

You twisted your body as you read the last line on the sheet, blindly reaching out for a wooden spoon. A hum built in your throat as you finished the line and began stirring. The puke green colour quickly turned into a delectable fruity pink. The smell even shifted into something nostalgic and sweet. 

For five minutes you stood there staring into the enticing liquid.

The mouse on the table squeaked.

“(Y/N)!”

The spoon you were just pulling out of the black pot, fell back in with a small splash.

“Bo— what happened to your ears?”

The tall muscle made man stood in the centre of your doorway, shoulders slumped in as he tried to collapse in on himself and hide in his colourfully stained work clothes. An unflattering frown pulled at the corner of his lips. He looked down toward your socked feet before staring at the pot in question. His eyes met yours quickly.

“One of my curses went wrong.” One of his large ears twitched at the sound of the mouse squeaking. He looked at the small rodent with wide eyes and twitching fingers.

“You’re on your way to being a donkey.”

He whined, spiked white and black hair drooping at the ends. “Do you have a curse reverser or something? I really want my ears back to normal. Everything’s really loud.”

The tension between your brows was painful. “I have a few things. Stay here.”

As you ran toward your spell cupboard, Bokuto made his way to your kitchen counter, where your pot was left forgotten, tempting him with the smell of freshly cooked meat off of a grill. His tongue poked out, wetting the seam of his lip as he took a silent step toward the liquid-filled pot. As he reached the table’s side, Mika and her friendly mouse scattered, knocking into the vase as they jumped off. It wobbled slightly, but enticed by the pink stew in the small black pot, Bokuto didn’t notice.

He reached for the forgotten wooden spoon, scooping up the soup in the scooped head before lifting it to his mouth. The smell alone, wafting up into his nose from its position under his upper lip, made him salivate. He took an eager gulp, throwing his head back to swallow it all in one go.

“Bo?”

Dropping the wooden spoon back into the pink liquid, Bokuto looked over his shoulder to give you a wide-eyed look, lips pursed together in a surprised pout. The donkey ears on his head twitched slightly before morphing back to normal.

“Bo, did you drink my potion?” You rushed, setting down a collection of small jars on your couch’s side table. 

His golden eyes followed your hurried movements as you came to stand before him, peeking into the content of the pot before gripping his cheeks tightly in the palm of your hands. He could feel the heat build-up in his cheeks underneath your hands and his stomach stir happily. You stared straight into his eyes, desperately trying to keep your attention on the situation at hand and not drown in the golden colour of his irises.

“Did you?”

Completely distracted by having your warm breath warm over his face, Bokuto grinned between his smushed cheeks. With a delighted hum, he slumped, melting into your hands. Just as he began to lift his hands to cover yours, you were blinded away from the flustering view.

Within a fraction of a second, a puff of glittering pink smoke appeared, making you hold back a cough as you shut your eyes tightly. The smoke felt warm and soft as it flew gently across your skin. The weight in your hands increased slightly.

Sighing, you turned your head back straight, hoping to be given the sight of Bokuto gently cradling your hands against his cheek with a dopey smile and relaxed eyelids. 

“Dumbass,” you spat.

In your hands, balancing in the open space between your thumb and index fingers, was a child. A chubby child with plump round cheeks that set his lips into a permanent pout with a bit of drool dripping out and eyebrows that were absolutely too large for his face. Short two-toned hair sprouted out of his scalp like new feathers.

You let out a loud groan, bringing the naked toddler into your arms as you run to your bedroom to fish out a small blanket to snuggly wrap him in. Bokuto’s tiny hands gripped the edge of the small quilt that you messily warped around his shoulders, lifting it to his mouth to slobber against it. With gentle fingers, you pulled the cotton cloth away from his wet mouth and tucked him as close to you as possible so he couldn’t squirm.

Your socked feet padded loudly as you ran back to the kitchen. With your left hand free from carrying baby Bokuto’s weight, you dragged your finger over the worn page of akaashi’s book, searching. The toddler gargled behind you, spouting out gibberish words.

Taking your finger off the page, you carded them through his soft hair. The words that were neatly printed on the page in liquid ink gave you no answers, making thoughts run madly through your head, nearly blocking out the sound of a knock coming from your front door.

Cursing lightly under your breath, you bounced the baby in your arms and ran to the door.

“(L/N), Mr. Hooper sent me to pick up a— is that a baby?” The woman, who you recognized to be the mayor’s assistant, pointed to the young boy that giggled in your arms. “Is that a child of Bokuto? How—?”

You were quick to cut her off, flinging your left arm in the air and shaking your open farm furiously. “No-no-no. I don’t have a baby.”

“Mama.”

The professionally dressed woman gave you a confused look, almost disbelieving, as her thin eyebrow raised.

“Ignore that.” You gestured for her to enter your abode, closing the door as she stood quietly. “Inflammation and pain I presume?” You asked.

The woman nodded, following you into the kitchen where your pot still sat. Bouncing Bokuto in your arm, you opened a cupboard where all your medicinal tea mixtures and salves sat patiently.

“Is that dyed potato soup?” she asked curiously.

Spinning on your heel you reached out to hand her the medicine before gilding her shoulder towards the door.

“Nope, and you don’t want to drink it either. Mrs. Hoops knows the rules but please remind her; 3 times a day, breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

The old wooden door shut with a creek behind her.

You smacked the air blindly with a clawed hand as the extra weight of the baby wizard rested in your other arm. Bokuto giggled happily, trying to reach for the small birds that flew frantically around. You bounced, adjusting his place on your hip bone as a sparrow landed on your shoulder.

“What do you mean there’s no reverse spell?” 

Akaashi groaned, arms darting out from his side as he tried to grab hold of a tiny rat that sprinted across his kitchen counter. Sprinting around the island and head down, the Warlock fair to notice a loyal steed poke head through the kitchen window.

“Molly!” He stumbled back, letting the rat run free and becoming a tree for birds. A chickadee chirped from the top of his head as he dug his fingers into his eyelids. “There’s no reverse spell because it’s meant to permanently give you a better life, letting you be youthful while continuing to age until death.”

Bokuto’s grubby fingers played with the feathers of the sparrow on your shoulder, massaging into the pleased bird’s head. You let out a long sigh, tapping your toe into the wood floor. “So Bokuto is going to be stuck like this until he dies?”

Swatting away the birds, Akaashi made his way around the kitchen’s island table to lift himself onto in front of you. Molly, seeing a golden opportunity, stuck her head in a little further to nibble on the black hair at the back of Akaashi’s head. A tired sigh escaped him.

“Was the potion finished when he decided to drink it?”

The baby of your hip gurgled, suddenly finding the collar of your shirt to be an interesting snack. “No, I had just finished mixing it.”

Leaning back against the horse's muzzle, Akaashi let his shoulder slump in relief. “Thank the gods. This should only be temporary then, maybe last a day.”

One of your brows raised as you watched the wizard get jostled around by Molly nodded her head. Akaashi leaned forward again, grabbing the edges of his gold-trimmed robe and wrapping them around his torso a bit tighter. His eyes shut for a moment as the rat scurried into his lap and curled into a ball.

“Tired?”

“Very, I can’t handle all these familiars. That’s Bokuto’s Job. I have my own work to do but now I have to deal with his two?” He glared at the mini Bokuto on your hip, who only giggled in response and made grabby hands at his mentor. “You just had to turn into a kid didn’t you, didn't even clean up after your curses, just ran off to go see (L/N) with those ridiculous ears on your head.” He paused for a moment. “Those are gone at least.”

You chuckled lightly as Bokuto whined on your hip, clenching his tiny first around the fabric of your shirt, occasionally hitting your side in anger. “So just a day? I can handle that.”

You peeked into your pot, looking at the slightly more purple liquid that waited inside of it as you cut up a few dried herbs. They split easily under your knife, crinkling loudly as you cut them down the smaller, more easily crunched.

Bokuto sat on your couch, tiny hands squeezing and playing with the paws of your old cat Mika as her tiny mouse friend curled into the fur on her back. He giggled, swaying on his bottom with his legs kicked spread out on Mika's sides.

Dropped the last few herbs into their respected jars, you wiped your hands with a beige cloth and made your way into the living room.

Bokuto immediately caught sight of you, drooping the feline's arms and raising his own towards you, hoping to be picked up. As you were about to comply, the two-toned haired baby cheered, “Mama!”

You grimaced, pausing your torso’s descent to pick him up for a moment. Eyes narrowed, you stared into his wide happy eyes and grinning mouth. “Why did you have to turn into a baby? Don’t call me ‘mama’.”

Scooping him into your arms, you brought the transformed Bokuto into your chest, rubbing his back as he gave you pleased gurgles in response. He smushed his mouth into your clothed collarbone, slobbering as he nuzzled into the spot, making his spit soak into your shirt.

“You’re lucky you're cute.”

As you were about to relax into the couch next to your beloved cat there was a knock at your door. 

You sat Bokuto back down on the couch, ignoring his hands that tucked desperately at your shirt. He pouted, whining as he hit the cushions.

“Ah, hello. What can I help you with?”

On the other side of the door’s threshold was a young boy. His hands held onto the top of his satchel and swayed from side to side, a nervous smile pulling at his cheeks.

“Hi, witch (L/N). My grandpa’s got a cold.”

You furrowed your brow momentarily, looking over your shoulder at the sound of shuffling, you faced the young boy again. “Sweats, cough, runny nose?”

“All of the above.”

 Something crashed behind you. You snapped your torso around to see your once beautiful vase spread across your floor in pieces. Bokuto sat in the center of the watery mess, a large pout pulling at his chubby cheeks as he glared at you, open palms smacking into the clear liquid.

“Damn it, Bokuto.”

He smacked his hands into the floor again, nearly hitting a shard of porcelain. Giving the boy in the doorway an exasperated look. “Let me get you what you need.”

You walked by the toddler, stepping over the mess, mentality promising to deal with it as soon as you gave the boy his medicine. 

Bokuto smacked the floor again, whining.

“Bo, stop it please,” you begged, shuffling through your cabinets before pulling out a couple of jars. Carrying them in your hand to give them to the young boy that stood patiently outside.

With a loud whine, Bokuto continued to smack the wet floor repeatedly.

Handing off the jars, the boy gave you a quiet thanks and dropped a collection of coins in your palm before scurrying off toward town. Bokuto, wrapped in what now was a damp towel continued to tantrum. “Bo, please stop.”

Instead, he rolled onto his back and began to kick and punch the water. 

You waited for his cries to stop while you picked up all of the vase’s pieces, putting them on your couch's side table for later. Bokuto’s cries slowed.

“Okay. Bo—”

He wailed for a second. You got up from your knees and searched for a towel. Once one was in your hand, you started to pat your floor dry.

“Bo.”

Another cry.

“Bo.”

And again.

“Koutarou please stop.”

Bokuto’s chubby arms and legs fell limp at his side. The light of the setting sun glowed through your window, painting the last few drops he laid in with a golden glow and making the white hairs on his head appear more akin to the colour of the yellow wildflowers outside your window.

He gave you an expecting look, arms held out towards you with wide eyes and a jutted out lip. Complying, you picked the man-child up and cradled him in your arm as you wiped the last bit of water up.

“Really. ‘Kou’. That’s all it took.”

He giggled into your chest, nuzzling his nose against your sternum.

The rest of the evening was spent with a happy child burrowing his way into your stomach as you lazed back across the length of your couch, rubbing his back as Mika snoozed off on your window sill, trying to soak in the last bit of heat the sun gave off. You gently trailed your nails along the center of Bokuto’s spine before brushing your fingers through his soft, spiky hair. He shivered a bit.

Mika, now cold from the outdoor breeze, jumped onto the couch by your feet, nudging them as a sign to go to bed.

Picking your legs up, you carried Bokuto toward the blanket filled basket that Mika had made a home in only a day prior. Carefully, you lowered Bokuto’s child form into the warm cocoon, ignoring his fussy cries as you swaddled him in the sheets.

“Mama! Papa!”

“Stop that, I’m not your parent.” You stared at his pout for a moment, before letting out a frustrated groan. “Why do you have to be a cute baby too? Wasn’t having you around as an adult enough?”

Bokuto huffed, thick eyebrows pulling upwards in the center.

“I give up, time for bed.”

You set the basket down on the couch next to Mika before heading into your room empty-handed, ready to crack the window open and sleep.

It must have been around 2 am when the cries started, startling you awake. You yawned as you made your way into the main room of your house, hobbling with each step until you were looking over the armrest of your couch.

Bokuto, with his eyes shut tightly, swung his arms wildly as he scratched into the darkness of your home. You sighed, suddenly thankful for the distance between your home and the edge of town. Any neighbours would have come knocking at your door because of the noise.

Tucking your hands underneath the boy’s arms, you lifted him into your chest, bouncing him as he cried into your shoulder. His small fingers dug into your shoulder, trying his best to hold you back as snot began to stain the loose fabric of your shirt. You let out quiet shushing noises and trailed your knuckles across his back as you tiredly carried him back to your room.

Sitting down on the soft mattress, you dug your feet underneath your blankets, still warm from your forgotten body heat. A yawn tore it’s way out of you as you pulled the blankets up to your shoulder, sure to cover Bokuto’s tiny body in the process.

“All right you big baby, time to sleep.”

He was quick to get comfortable, taking slow breathes through his nose as he sucked in all the warmth you had to offer.

“Night, Kou.”

Typically, the sound of birds chirping outside your window at the break of dawn was something you enjoyed. Waking up to the fluttery tunes they sang in the trees that surrounded your little cottage. Today though, today they were loud. Screeching like sharp whistles into your ear at the earliest hour of the morning.

Groaning, you pulled your hand out from the warm cave that your blankets created around you, shivering as soon as you felt the drastically colder air on the outside. You rubbed your eye and turned your head toward the window. A small flock sat along your window sill, including one that perched itself on your bedside lamp, chirping about something you didn’t understand.

You huffed through your nose, closing your eyes and tucking your hand back under the blanket as you turned back to your original position. Your cold nose hit something incredibly warm.

“Get back here or you’ll get cold little witch.”

Feeling a large hand followed by familiar well-built muscles that radiated extreme heat wrap around your back before thick, calloused fingers dug into the fleshy crook of your shoulder. Warm built up at the top of your head with every exhale he let out. Your own breath hit his chest, spreading throughout the tight space and making your cheeks feel even hotter. You scrunched your nose against the defined centerline between Bokuto’s pecks, desperately trying to avert your gaze despite the limited view.

Even with the protective layer of your loose sleep shirt, nothing was left to the imagination as he held you tightly against his best. 

You lifted your head, nose bumping against his. Within your peripherals, you could see his naturally spiky two-toned hair bend against your pillows, his cheek squish slightly as his head sunk into the fluffy object, and his thick grey eyebrows rise in surprise at your quick movement. The rising sun, though dim, made his golden eyes glow brightly in the shadowed room. Despite not being able to see it, you could tell his mouth parted as his lips brushed against yours ever so slightly before breathing out hot air like a dragon guarding a rare treasure.

You breathed slowly, eyelids fluttering. “If you want me to stay, get rid of those birds of yours. Or I will, I could use a few feathers for some spells.”

His following chuckle sent deep vibrations down your spine. You could feel his lips pull apart along your hairline, grinning widely. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Don’t make me feed you my cat’s potion again. You were much cuter as a baby.”

Another laugh made you want to sink into your mattress and hide. You dug your face into his chest, feeling his muscles flex against your skin.

“I recall you thinking I was cute already.”

“Just shut your birds up, please. I don’t need to be embarrassed anymore.”

He complied, slowly pulling away to roll off the other side of the bed and walk around to the window where the birds continued to sing happily. The blanket fell from his waist and you covered your head with the blanket.

“Put some clothes on!”

“I don’t know where you put them!”

You cried into the blankets dramatically, self-deprecating laughs escaping you as you tried to choke on the tick sheets. Following the sound of your window shutting, a weight slowly began to press you deeper into the mattress, increasing the heat all around your body by melting into the sheets. You could feel his hands rub at your back and stomach through the blanket as his knees dug into the mattress on either side of you. His voice, sharp and ruff from sleep, cut its way through your blanket before meeting your ear on the other side and you tried no to melt on the spot.

“Come on little witch, there’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m your baby, right?” 

...I may have gone just a little bit far at the ending there….. Well, uh… happy early Halloween. - Bacon

Posted: 25/10/2020

[beautifultypewriter]

Soon ~ Fili ~ Part One

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,891

Pairing: Fili x fem!oc

Summary: A Thumbelina AU. Áine is much smaller than the rest of her family and hopes that one day she’ll meet someone her own size. Her hopes are answered when she meets the Dwarven Prince, Fili.

A/N: Hey, it’s that Thumbelina AU I said I wasn’t going to write! Honestly, is anyone at all surprised by this turn of events? I most certainly am not. I’m looking at probably 5 parts for this mini-series. I’m doing it as an OC story and writing in third person because it’s just better for me for this particular story. Áine means radiance and it’s pronounced almost like Anya. I’ve made some changes to the races - dwarves, elves, and hobbits are all around the same size (which is fairy size) and dwarves and elves have wings. Also no one is related to each other with the exception of Fili and Thorin. The story is based on the 1994 animated film Thumbelina. I’m going to be using some parts of the songs and I claim no ownership over them or any of the original story points or similar dialogue. 

“Mother! Mother, come look!” A young boy skidded to a stop next to a woman, his mother, in the kitchen of a small cottage nestled among wildflowers and trees on the bank of a river. The boy pulled on his mother’s skirts, trying to gain her attention. The woman tsked as she continued her work kneading her bread dough, throwing a bit of flour towards her son. The boy jumped back, “Ma!”

 He frowned at her and she chuckled quietly before turning to him, “Kili, you have exactly one minute to tell me what the problem is.”

 Kili took in a large breath, his chest puffing out, “There’s a girl in the garden.”

 The woman, a lady named Dis, stared down at her son, her eyebrows raised and her hands on her hips, “What do you mean there’s a girl in the garden?” Theirs was the only home for miles and they never received visitors, so if there really was a girl in the garden then she was probably lost and far from home.

 Kili grabbed her hand, “Come look!” He pulled her forward, his small legs working to get to their destination faster. She followed the young boy out the back door and over to the patch of buttercup flowers that were very likely to bloom any day now. As they approached, Dis didn’t see any girl and she was ready to give her son an earful, but as they came to a stop in front of the flowers, she noticed that some of them had bloomed already. Kili pointed down to one in particular, “Look.” Dis followed where he pointed and stared down at a buttercup that had clearly just opened as the petals were still standing straight. She gasped. Kili’s grin widened as he nodded his head, “I told you! It’s a girl.” He got down on his knees and moved closer to the flower. Dis continued to stare. She had never seen anything like this before.

 Inside the newly bloomed buttercup was a small girl. A very small girl. She couldn’t have been bigger than Dis’s own thumb. The girl stretched her arms over her head, yawning as she did so. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up. She smiled when she saw Kili and Dis, “Hello.” She waved to them as she tucked her legs under her, straightening the skirt of her yellow dress.

 Kili waved back to her, “Hello! My name’s Kili. What’s yours?”

 The girl looked thoughtful for a moment, “My name?” Kili nodded and she shrugged, “Haven’t got one of those.” She smiled as she ran her hands over the soft petals of the flower, giggling slightly.

 Dis kneeled down next to her son, “Where are your parents, child?” A soft breeze blew past, ruffling the grass around them and causing the girl to wrap her arms around herself. She shivered lightly as she tapped her chin, whispering the word parents over and over to herself. Dis waited patiently. She didn’t know what else she could do.

 Then the girl shrugged again, “Haven’t got any of those either.”

 Dis’s eyes widened, “You haven’t got any parents?” The girl shook her head, but her smile never faltered. It was like she didn’t know to be saddened by this. Slowly the woman reached a hand out, “Is today your first day out of that flower?” The girl nodded as she stood on shaky legs and climbed onto Dis’s palm, holding tightly to the woman’s thumb. Dis could feel her chest tighten.

 Kili tugged at her apron and asked in an exaggerated whisper, “Ma, can we keep her?” The girl seemed not to notice as she was wrapped up in staying on her feet. She stumbled back and forth, tightening her arms around Dis’s thumb as she giggled. Dis’s eyes softened as she watched the girl. She nodded to her son and Kili let out a cheer.

 That caught the girl’s attention and she looked up, her dark hair blowing around her face. Dis smiled, “How would you like to stay here with us?” The girl’s eyes widened as she looked around. The sun was close to setting, so it cast warm glow over the small cottage and the ivy climbing up the side of it. The girl looked around at the wildflowers and she thought they were the most beautiful things she had seen, granted she hadn’t seen much in her five minutes of life, but she was sure she’d never see anything more beautiful than those flowers. She looked at the dancing grass and the tall trees, stretching all the way up to the sky. Then she looked back at the woman and the boy. They were staring at her with wide eyes. Kili was biting his lip as he hopped from one foot to the other. The woman was smiling at her, her eyes sparkling with something that made the girl feel warm, something that made her feel special.

 And she thought over the woman’s words again and she decided that yes, she would very much like to stay here in this beautiful place with these wonderful people, so she smiled up at them, “Here? Really?”

 Dis nodded, “I could be your mother, if you like.” Mother. That word struck something in the girl’s heart and tears sprung to her eyes as she hugged Dis’s thumb. Dis smiled down at the girl, “You’ll need a name though.” Dis tapped her chin, racking her brain for the perfect name. She looked down at the girl’s bright eyes and shining smile, “How about Áine?”

 Áine nodded, “I love it.” She hugged Dis’s thumb again before her attention turned to Kili as he jumped up in the air.

 “I have a sister!” He spun in quick circles, cheering about his great luck. Áine giggled as she watched her new brother from the comfort of her mother’s hold.

 ~

 Áine had lived 18 wonderful years with Kili and their mother, Dis. She couldn’t have asked for a better family or a better home, but there was one thing that would nag at the back of her mind. Kili had grown taller than their mother, towering over her with a playful smile as he held things out of her reach. Áine giggled when she watched them, enjoying how exasperated mother seemed to get at Kili’s antics.

 Áine herself had not grown even an inch since the day she was born from the buttercup flower. Usually it didn’t matter to her because she felt ten feet tall with the love in her heart, but sometimes she wondered if this was right. Was she meant to always be this small? And if she was, then would she ever meet other people like herself? She’d often sit with her mother and ask these questions, but unfortunately, Dis had no answers for her daughter. She had never seen anyone quite like Áine before and she had never met anyone else who had either. To Dis, it seemed that her lack of answers didn’t bother Áine too much and that was true for the most part. Áine accepted the knowledge with a smile and she’d often forget about her questions for some time until they’d creep up on her again.

 Dis had been baking a pie that afternoon and she had enlisted the help of her youngest. Áine had been in charge of choosing the ripest plums while her mother rolled out the pastry and set it in the pan. Dis looked over at her smiling daughter, “Those look perfect, Áine.” She scooped up the plums and got to work on preparing them as Áine tossed small fistfuls of flour onto the counter, so it would be ready when Dis had to roll out the top crust. Dis watched as Áine danced around the table, tossing the flour while quietly humming to herself. There was hardly ever a time when Áine wasn’t humming or singing. Dis smiled, “Ready with the flour?”

 Áine nodded as she threw down the last bit of flour, “All set, Mother.” Dis set her hand down and Áine wasted no time in climbing onto her palm and holding tightly to her thumb. Dis lifted her hand, bringing the girl to the shelf above the table, waiting patiently as Áine climbed down. The pie was set under the shelf, so Dis would be able to easily set the top crust in place. Áine leaned over the edge of the shelf to watch her mother roll out the crust and prepare to place it. This was her favorite part of the pie making process. Her mother always had such fluid movements and she always got the crust on perfectly the first time around. Just as she lifted the pastry, the kitchen door was pushed open with such force that it slammed into the wall. The shelf that Áine had been standing on shook with the force and she lost her footing. With a small yelp, she found herself falling and landing in the middle of the perfectly ripe plums.

 Dis had turned when the door opened to scold her son, “Kili! How many times have I told you not to slam the door?”

 Kili smiled as he shrugged, “Sorry, Ma.” He stepped into the room, moving over to his mother and kissed her temple. Dis rolled her eyes as she turned back to her task and rolled the pastry over the top of the plum pie.

 Áine, who had been trying to get out of the plums, was suddenly thrust into darkness. She looked up to see the top crust, “Oh dear.” She tried to push at the pastry, failing to make any kind of hole that she could get out through. Deciding that her best bet would be to climb through the seam, she made her way over to the edge of the pan. As she moved, she could still hear the voices of her brother and mother.

 Kili had been looking around the kitchen, wanting to show his sister the gift he had picked up for her, “My dear Áine, I have something for you.” He couldn’t see her anywhere and when he didn’t hear her call out to him, he turned back to their mother, “Where’s Áine?”

 Dis rolled her eyes again as she motioned to the shelf, “What do you mean? She’s right-” The woman cut herself off as she noticed that her daughter was not on the shelf where she had been only moments ago. In a panic, she turned and searched the other counter, the floor, the chair, anywhere, “Áine, where are you?” Kili sensed his mother’s panic and he immediately dropped to his knees, searching frantically for the small girl.

 With a muffled cry, Áine broke free from the seam of the pie, calling out with a smile, “I’m here.” Kili jumped up from the floor and rushed over to the table. He smiled when he saw that his sister was alright and laughed when he saw her covered in plum juice. She stuck out her tongue as Dis rushed over to her and gently wiped some of the juice from her face.

 “Oh, my dear, are you alright?”

 Áine nodded as she tried to push her mother away, though that was easier said than done, “I’m fine, Mother, truly.” She turned to Kili, her grin widening and her body buzzing with excitement, “What have you got for me?”

 Kili laughed as he held up a tattered old book, “Some new stories.” Her eyes widened as her jaw dropped. She looked over the book with interest. Kili laughed again, “I think you’re really going to like these.” He held his hand out and Áine ran to his palm as quickly as her legs would carry her.

 “Can we read them after supper tonight?” Kili nodded and she squealed, hugging his thumb, “Thank you!”

 After supper had been eaten that night and the plum pie had been nearly devoured by Kili, the family sat in the bedroom that the siblings shared. Dis was in her old rocking chair, Áine’s new book clutched tightly in her hands. Kili placed his sister on their mother’s shoulder before he moved over to his own bed. He sat with his back leaned against the headboard and his legs crossed in front of him. Dis opened the book, taking note of how Áine’s eyes lit up when she saw the colorful pictures of winged dwarves living in small stone houses. Dis looked over at her son, giving him a soft smile as he shrugged. He knew Áine was going to love these stories.

 The young woman in question smiled wider as her eyes roved over the pictures, not knowing where to look. Her head snapped up and she stared at her mother’s face, “They look sort of like me.” Dis nodded as she chuckled. Áine’s eyes moved back to the pages as Dis began to read the book aloud. The girl sat on her mother’s shoulder, her eyes never leaving the book as she leaned forward slightly.

 The story came to an end with the dwarven prince marrying his One. Áine gripped her mother’s necklace and slid down it, coming to land on the book. She looked over the last line of the story, “And they lived happily ever after.” She looked to the picture again, her eyes alight with wonder and longing. She turned to Dis, “Do you really think they did?”

 Dis nodded as she gave her daughter a serious smile, “Oh, of course.” She pointed to the book, “It says so right there.” Kili snorted from his spot on the bed, but neither of the women paid him any mind.

 Áine looked to the picture again as her eyes lost some of their light, “I suppose it’s much easier when two people are about the same size?” She ran a hand over the illustrations.

 Dis nodded, “I suppose so.” She and Kili shared a look before they both went back to staring at Áine.

 “Are dwarves real?” She still hadn’t taken her eyes away from the picture.

 Dis shrugged, “I’m not sure, dear. I’ve never seen one, but I had never seen one of you before you came from that buttercup, so anything is possible.”

 Áine nodded, but the sadness was still in her eyes, “I wish I could be big like you and Kili.” Dis’s heart broke. She always knew that Áine’s questions were about more than just wanting to know if she was the only tiny person. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and Kili noticed because he jumped up from his bed and held his hand out for his sister.

 She climbed into his palm and he brought her up, so that they were eye level, “Áine, you’re perfect the way you are, and you don’t have to wish to change yourself.” He carried her over to the table by the window where her bed was, “You’ll find your happiness. Don’t you worry about it.” Áine smiled at her brother as he set her in the old ring box shaped like a clamshell where she slept.

 She made herself comfortable within the blankets and pillows, “Thanks, Kili.”

 He smiled at her, “No problem kid.” She rolled her eyes and he moved back to his own bed, crawling under the covers. Dis stepped over to her daughter and leaned down to place a light kiss on her head.

 Áine held her hands up when her mother went to move away, “Wait, could you put the book up, so I can see the pictures while I fall asleep?” Dis gave her a soft smile before she propped the book open, the last page of the story they had just read on full display. Áine snuggled into her blankets again, “Thank you. Goodnight, Mother.”

 “Goodnight, Áine.” Dis moved over and kissed Kili’s forehead before she left the room, closing the door behind her. Áine was about to say goodnight to her brother, but Kili’s snores were already filling the room. Fondly, she rolled her eyes.

 Áine wanted to sleep, she really did, but she couldn’t get the story out of her head. Quietly, she crept from her bed and moved over to the book. She held the skirt of her nightdress in both hands as she swayed back and forth, humming to herself. She stepped lightly, her feet moving in a dance that she knew well, “I know there’s someone somewhere. Someone who’s sure to find me soon.” She moved over to the book as she dropped her skirt and leaned next to the picture of the prince, “Soon it won’t be just pretend. Soon a happy ending.”

  Áine had been so wrapped up in her song that she hadn’t heard the clatter on the windowsill outside. A bumblebee had crash landed, tossing its rider as it did so. With a huff, the stranger got to his feet, “I get it. You want to rest.” The bee buzzed and the rider rolled his eyes. He stepped closer to the opening of the window, catching parts of a song. His curiosity won him over and he moved so that he could see through the opening. A smile came over him as he saw a young woman singing quietly to herself while swaying back and forth.