#i feel like i should have detailed the antlers more for this style but no im dedicated to her funny little club antlers

[cozylittleartblog]

somewhere with shining lights (print available on my etsy)

[s-creations]

Comes in Waves - First Meetings

Entries for the 2024 RadioStatic Week.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Rating: Teen and Up Audience Relationship: Alastor/Vox Additional Tags: Cursing, Angst, Fluff and Angst, I'll try and write a good mix of both happy and sad, They're both idiots when it comes to love.

No one properly ‘greeted’ you in Hell. 

Which made sense. This place was filled with mortals turned demons who were the worst that Earth had to offer. They only cared about themselves when they were alive and were now trapped in a place that made it clear that weakness got you killed. Still, maybe some humanity could have been saved. In at least one person. 

Too bad for him, he found a group of sinners who didn’t care that he was new. 

“You drew a bad lot of luck,” the ring leader laughed out, “Not only a sinner, but a sinner with a TV for a head? God must’ve really hated you.”

His attempt to argue, to put up a fight, was quickly diminished when a strike hit the side of his new head. The large, cumbersome head already makes it hard to balance. But the unforeseen blow made him collapse onto the ground. Both from losing his stability and from the pain he was in. His vision filled with static as he attempted to face his attackers once more. 

He leaned against the wall as he was closed in on. Unable to get back up between the new pain and the cold sickness seeping into him. 

Was he going to die, again? So soon after arriving to this place? Wasn’t that a little unfair? 

Well…it was Hell. 

Before the leader’s hit could land, all froze in disbelief as a black…tentacle (What?) suddenly burst through his chest. Yellow eyes widening in shock before any form of life is drained from them. Said tentacle apparently wasn’t done as it lifted the unmoving form up and threw it.

He watched with some small satisfaction as the body arched high into the air before landing on the ground with a satisfying ‘splat’. 

Said tentacle retreated back to the new addition, who was standing at the entrance of the alleyway. He was unable to make out any details, just that their eyes were red dials. And that they were clearly upset.

“Oh fuck,” another sinner spat out fearfully, “Oh fuck!”

“I’m a little hurt by this.” The new arrival spoke slowly, calmly, with a strange radio filter being applied to it. As they stepped into the alleyway, those remaining pressed themselves against the wall he was currently leaning on. Trying to put as much distance between them and the new arrival. 

Some even tried to climb the wall. He could hear furious scratches as claws dug into the stone wall. 

“I’ve been practically begging to have another brawl with you lot. Giving you enough dates and times for us to all play again. Yet you decide to pick on a newly arrived sinner? I know we’re in Hell, b̳̿͟͞u̳̿͟͞t̳̿͟͞ t̳̿͟͞h̳̿͟͞a̳̿͟͞t̳̿͟͞’s̳̿͟͞ a̳̿͟͞ l̳̿͟͞o̳̿͟͞w̳̿͟͞ b̳̿͟͞l̳̿͟͞o̳̿͟͞w̳̿͟͞.”

He feels that he should be terrified. Terrified by the fact that he’d just seen someone easily kabobbed and tossed aside like nothing. Terrified that those around him who were mere seconds ago beating him up were now begging for their lives, to be let go. Terrified as the form stalking closer began to grow. Began to stretch and tower over them, with wide antlers on their head and mouth glowing an unnatural green, showing off a wide smile of sharp, yellow teeth. 

Yet he felt…amazed, in awe, and the figure before him. Because, somehow, he knew he wasn’t in danger. And that he could take this moment in for what it was, to enjoy it. 

In a blink of an eye, the rest of the gang that had harmed him were torn to shreds. The building walls painted with blood spatters and limbs littered the ground. Still, his attention remind on the sinner who’d saved him. 

Their form had shrunk back down, allowing him to get a better look at the other’s appearance. Dressed in red and black, a tattered but still styled overcoat, carrying a staff with a microphone atop of it, a monocle placed before one of the deep red eyes, hair turning into deer like ears with small antlers resting between them. 

His savior was a little easy on the eyes.

He couldn’t help but flinch as a hand was brought out for him to take. Eyes flickering between said hand and the rest of the demon attached to it.

“Come now, I don’t bite. Well, I do, but not on first encounters.” The other demon said, their smile never dropping. 

He took it cautiously and was helped back up. Wavering slightly as he tried to get back onto his feet. 

“Whoa there! A little unstable are we? Hmm, but not just from being new… That’s a rather grizzly dent right there.” 

“H-H-Hit m-me.” Was the helpful reply. 

“Ah, so you can talk! Good to know! The wound’s not too deep, you should heal up in no time. Let’s get out of this area, shall we? I’ve had my fun and I’m growing a little bored. Come along.” 

He really didn’t have that much of a choice seeing as he needed to be guided out of that area, his vision still a little blurred. So he followed, being led around the numerous body parts. Attention going as best it could to the unmoving form of the previous leader. 

“Would you believe that he had the audacity to try and challenge me?” the other said, “Me? Of all people. Well, I’m nothing if not gentlemanly, a good sport if you will. Gave him plenty of opportunity, but he never took the bite. And then I find him beating you down? The nerve.” 

“U-Um, y-y-yeah…” What was happening? 

The sinner frowned softly, “That…voice is getting rather annoying. Can you fix that?”

“I-I mean, I-I’m no-ot s-sur-re?” 

“Hmm, must be from that hit… How annoying. I’d best be off. I would advise to not find yourself stuck in that situation again. Remember, only the strong survive here!” The sinner laughed as if he’d just told a joke, already walking away from him. 

Desperately, he called out, “W-Wai-it!”

The sinner paused in their steps and faced him once more, “Yes?”

“...W-What’s y-you-ur name?”

“How rude of me! I murder in front of you yet don’t even share my name,” providing a low bow, they answered with, “You may call me Alaster, the Radio Demon. And it would be in your best interest to remember it.”

“A-Ala-astor…”

“And what of you?”

“M-Me?”

“What’s your name?”

He…couldn’t remember. He had a name, when he was on Earth, he was sure of it. But arriving in Hell, the mix of emotions and information beating him down, he seemed to have…forgotten. He provided a small shrug to the other. 

While the smile didn’t disappear, it did drop as Alastor’s eyes furrowed. “You don’t remember? Not even the name you had when you were alive?”

He shakes his head. 

“Well, that certainly won’t do… Maybe base it around the visual box that you now have for a head? That would be interesting?” 

“V-Visual b-b-box? Yo-ou mean the T-TV?”

“TV?”

“T-T-Telev-vision.”

“Hmmm, oh yes, the noisy picture box people have been ranting and raving about recently. Personally, I find them a bit annoying. Why leave it up to a machine to tell you what you should be seeing when you can picture it in your mind? Ah, but that’s for me to fester over. Coming back to you… I would like to help you before I depart. I hate leaving unfinished business.”

He frowned softly. What had Alastor called it at first? A visual box? He supposed that wasn’t too far off from what it is. Even had a nice ring to it. If he maybe…combined them? 

“V-Vox.”

“What was that good sir?” Alastor leaned forward on his staff, ears perking up. 

He felt a little heated with on intently he was being stared at and stated again, “Vox.”

 “Vox? Vox… Hmmm, I’ve heard worse. But, if you like it, who am I to argue?” With a twirl of the cane, Alastor turned his back to the new named Vox once more. “I hate to name and dash but I do have other priorities to attend to. Murder to take part in and what not. I would recommend finding your way to Cannibal Town. You can’t miss it, just take a right on the first street and you’ll be within spitting distance. Tell them that Alastor sent you and that you need to see Rosie, she’ll fix you right up. But tell them quickly so you don’t get too many bites.” 

“And remember what I said, only the strong survive!” 

With that, Alastor took off. Not looking back to see if Vox had moved, collapsed, or was even being attacked again. The other sinner had disappeared before Vox started to move. His mind swam as he focused on remaining upright and keeping hold of Alastor’s words. 

Only the strong survive.

He took that to heart. 

Vox learned quickly what it meant to be down in Hell. What highs and lows it offered. Finding his first leg up was in realizing that, while this form was cumbersome, it was invaluable. Because he knew and understood things far clearer than ever before. 

Electronics were simple, they bent to his whim with just the flick of his wrist. He could just think of something and it would suddenly be in his hands. He could defend himself not only with the weapons he created but with the electricity that surged through him. He was stronger, far stronger than he thought he could be. And that was just the first few years of being in Hell.

As time went on, Vox grew in strength and territory. He brought Hell into the next wave of technological advancements. He built a name for himself by providing services that no one had been able to offer before. There was even the surprise that he could make contracts, own people’s souls and lives to have them work for him, and that added to his ever growing power. He became an Overlord.

All the while, as his empire grew, so did his interest in Alastor. The Radio Demon. The sinner who appeared out of nowhere one day. Who seemed to, overnight, climb the ranks to an Overlord while others disappeared. Far faster than anyone before him and currently anyone after. One who held few contracts and worked in the shadows. Everyone seemed to know better than to cross his path, lest they wanted an early death. 

For how terrifying everyone made Alastor to be, Vox…felt differently. 

At first, it was fascination. Why was it that he was spared a death when it seemed that Alastor had no issues with killing off lesser beings? Surely with how he’s been discussed, the Radio Demon’s interest should be in killing, maiming. Not saving new arrivals that are less than the blood stains on his shoes. So why spare Vox? Was Alastor maybe not as heartless as others said? 

Fascination turned to adoration. A small spark of something would hit Vox’s heart whenever he heard the other demon’s name. He, rather shamefully, kept record of every movement that could be saved. Articles about the Radio Demon’s actions and kills, what new territories he’d toppled or even just small points such as where he was most frequently seen when not killing. He listened every Thursday, 7pm sharp, to listen to Alastor’s radio show. Even going so far as to buy an old fashioned radio to listen in properly. 

It wasn’t love…but it was the closest that Vox could land on for what this feeling was. 

They’d never crossed paths after that first meeting. Vox was pretty sure that Alaster had no clue who he was. That he’d just become another face in the sea of sinners that the Radio Demon had no interest in. But there was a small part that Vox clings onto that, maybe, he had made an impact in some way? 

He just can’t help but focus on the fact that he’d been spared. That had to have meant something…right? 

Right?

Vox came across Alastor’s path once more, years later. 

It was on the more quiet side of Hell. Mainly an area that had been practically demolished due to turf wars and no one had bothered to clean it up. Vox was there to survey. He needed a new tower constructed and the city was limited on space as is. The area wasn’t too bad. Messy, sure, but he’d honestly dealt with worse.

He’d been so focused on visualizing the setup that he was unaware of footsteps drawing closer. Only pulled from his thoughts when a familiar voice called out.

“Rather depressing place to find one as bright as you.”

Vox did everything he could to not jump. He didn’t want to offer the satisfaction that he’d not noticed the other. But he didn’t hide the smile as he faced Alastor, said demon walking until he was right next to the Media Overlord. 

“I don’t make it a habit,” Vox replied smoothly, “Just doing some surveying. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of claiming this place?”

Alastor laughed, a familiar track mimicking his sounds. “Oh heavens, no! This place is just quiet. A nice area to collect my thoughts, nothing more. I’m to assume, though, that it won’t be quiet for too long. If you’re here, that means you’re looking to expand.”

“Hey, everyone in Hell should have a convenient way to purchase my products,” Vox said with a smirk, “I’d rather they spend money on me instead on bus fare.” 

“Ha, how charming how your mind works.” Alastor finally looked away from the piles of rubble to Vox, who felt his insides burn from the words and attention. “You’re looking much better than the last time we crossed paths. Although your head is different…slimmer? Goodness, I didn’t think you could alter your appearance that severely.” 

“Neither did I. But trial and error is a great thing.” 

“So it is…”

“...Wait, so you remember me.” Vox added weakly as if just realizing what Alastor had said. 

“Of course I do! Not a name one could easily forget. As well as you’re the only demon I semi-know that has a mechanical box for a head. You are unique Vox.”

“I- thank you.”

“Think nothing of it.”

They fell silent, staring out across the destroyed plain, the noises of the city providing some distraction as they stood there. 

Vox, gathering his nerves, broke the silence. “I’ve been actually hoping to see you again. Since I don’t really see you at the Overlord meetings.”

“Hmmm, I should be going to those, shouldn’t I? Nevermind, what is it that you want to discuss?”

Heart beating furiously, Vox shifted to stand in more of Alastor’s vision. The Radio Demon raising a brow.

“Given the fact that we own and oversee two major forms of entertainment, video and radio, I thought it would be best to…to partner up.”

The brow raised further. “Partner…up?”

“Yes, now, look, I know Overlords don’t really team up or anything like that. Nothing permanent anyway. But I think for us, it makes sense! You have the know how with all of Hell and people already know your name far and wide. I would help command the other side. So many sinners watch TV now, it’s insane! I’m more than capable of doing some heavy lifting. We would…just compliment each other, you know? We’d be an awesome powerhouse!”

“Hmmm…”

“Yeah! So…what do you say?” Vox held out a hand, beaming at Alastor, “Partners?”

As time ticked on, Vox’s optimism faltered. His hand eventually lowers as he waits for Alastor to say something. Anything. Even if it was just to tell him no and move on. But the tight smile that was affixed to his face seemed strained, painful, unwanted. 

Eventually, Alastor reached out with his staff to fully push Vox’s hand down to his side. 

“...No?” Vox weakly voiced.

“I’m sure in your mind, it makes sense,” Alastor finally voiced, “Nothing you said was wrong. But…this is not something that would benefit either of us.”

“I- that’s not true.” Vox frowned. 

“Really? What would I gain from this?”

“I mean…power- more power.”

“I’m quite content with where I am now. I have enough power to keep any enemies at bay and if I wanted to rise in the ranks, I easily could. There’s nothing you can offer that I would need.” 

Vox felt a stab to his heart. “I…you must want something?”

“No, there isn’t. And furthermore, what would you get out of this deal? You’ve already made a name. You have a business that’s thriving and money pouring in to where I don’t see your account drying up any time soon. I can’t give you anything that you wouldn't be able to find on your own. So, I will ask, what would you get out of this?”

You.

“I…I don’t know.” Vox swallowed weakly, trying to push the pain down. 

“I understand the appeal. But this is not something that would work. For either of us. Maybe another Overlord would be better for you, to suit your needs. But that Overlord isn’t me and it will never be me. I…would let this go, Vox. For your own good.”

“You’re…not even going to consider it? Just a little bit?” Vox asked weakly, stepping forward. Only to freeze as Alastor stepped away. 

“I have, and I’ve reached my conclusion, which is no. You’re doing well for yourself Vox. Don’t let this dissuade you.”

Voice caught in his throat, Vox could only watch as Alastor gave him a short nod, turn, and started making his way back to the city. The Radio Demon was only a few feet away when Vox called out one final word.

“Why!”

Alastor paused at that, turning back to face Vox. The Media Overlord hit with a nostalgia note from that one movement. “I’ve explained to you-”

“Why did you save me?” Vox called back, “I was…nothing and you saved me, spared me, told me where I could get help. Why…would you do that? Why me?”

Alastor shrugged, “Why not you?”

“Why not now then?”

“...Because you don’t need me now.” 

Vox was unsure how long he remained in that desolate area, but night had fallen when he finally started to walk back to his main tower. Sadness, the bitter taste, was slowly replaced with anger, sour and curdling in his stomach. He didn’t care how the lights popped out as he passed them. Lesser demons made a clear path for him as he made his way. 

He only let out a cry of absolute anger when he was safely locked away in his own office. The walls and floor left with electrical burns from the aftermath.

“Fine…” Vox muttered as the office lights slowly came back on, “Fine, you want to play it that way? So be it. I’ll…I’ll show you that you need me.” 

Smirking, he made his way to the large computer. Clawing at his desk as he waited for it to power on. 

“I’ll become a stronger Overlord. I’ll make you regret that you said no to me…”

[fallingintolife]

All I Want For Christmas Is You

A/N: Hi there! So this is the fic I wrote for the fluffiest-dreams New Year's Fic Exchange! The person I got to write for is: @fandomfoodiedancer ! The song prompt that they chose was "All I Want For Christmas Is You" by Mariah Carey. I decided to go with the Sam Winchester x reader pairing because I just love Sam. I hope that you really enjoy this piece. ♥️ This is my first time putting my writing out here on Tumblr so I really hope you enjoy it. ♥️ Happy New Year! 🎊🥂🎇

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2,411

Summary: You were severely injured after a hunt gone wrong which happened right before Christmas which was your favorite holiday. So Sam, being the sweetest person ever, decided to decorate for you and maybe also finally admit his true feelings...

Warnings: Fluffy-fluff-fluff!, with just a little angst thrown in for good measure..., Loss of family mentioned but no details on what happened

Dean: Just pulled into the Bat Cave. You have 5 minutes.

Any other time, Sam definitely would have rolled his eyes at Dean referring to the Bunker as the Bat Cave, but not today. Today you were coming home from the hospital after being there for a week because of a hunt gone wrong. You were lucky to even be alive, more or less only escaping with a broken leg, dislocated shoulder, and a variety of bruises, as well as cuts spread all around your body. Today was also Christmas; your favorite holiday, which you had been looking forward to since you moved into the Bunker ten months ago.

You already had planned out all the activities leading up to Christmas. You knew Christmas was a sore spot for the boys because of their past experiences aka their dad never being around for it and, of course, the one with the ghouls, where they thought it was Dean's last Christmas because he was going to Hell. So could you really blame them for not exactly loving Christmas? Of course not.

Instead, you decided to show them what Christmas could and should be like. You wanted to show them it could be magical and happy, not just full of hunting and sad memories. You wanted to help them make new ones, happier ones. If anybody deserved to be happy, it was the Winchesters.

At first they weren't quite sold on it but after baking cookies, having some hot chocolate and eggnog (that Sam was not allowed to make, because that shit would knock anyone on their ass), and singing obnoxiously loud to Christmas music, the boys found out that they didn't find it all that awful after all. The only thing that bothered Sam was that he didn't know what to give you for Christmas. I mean, he knew what he wanted, but that couldn't happen, so it didn't matter. Sam had liked you since you both had met a year and a half ago. He wouldn't act on it though because he didn't want you thrown into the chaos that was him and Dean's life. Nothing good ever came over of anyone getting close to him. He didn't want to see you get hurt or worse…

However, two weeks ago, after he almost lost you? That gave him a lot to think about. And the only thing that continued to repeat in his head was that he couldn't lose you; he wouldn't lose you. He loved you and he was going to tell you that tonight. No more denying it.

Which was why Sam was currently trying to quickly finish the last of the decorating before you came inside. He knew how much Christmas meant to you, so he was trying to finish all the decorating that you had planned, but never got to do because you were in the hospital. Placing his reindeer antlers on his head, he quickly hit a random Christmas playlist when he heard the door open at the top of the stairs of the Bunker.

"Dean, seriously? Do you really think this is necessary?" You asked him with a roll of your eyes as he carried you in bridal style.

"Uh yeah, sweetheart, I do. You realize you're in a full leg cast, right?" He raised an eyebrow at you as his eyes followed the purple cast on your right leg that went from your toes to your upper thigh. His eyes then went straight to the black sling that you were currently sporting for your right shoulder that you had dislocated. You wanted to have some amazing comeback, but your brain was still a little fuzzy from the painkillers you were on. So instead, you just let out a huff and pouted. Dean rolled his eyes at you but immediately grinned when he saw all the decorations Sam had put up around the Bunker. He smirked and winked at Sam, which Sam in return gave him his classic bitch face.

He had to give it to Sammy. He really had gone all out with the decorations. It wasn't a secret that Sam liked you; at least not to Dean. One, because Sam hadn't stopped talking about you since they had met you about a year and a half ago now. When Dean had asked Sam about when he was going to finally grow some balls and ask you out was when he told Dean that he couldn't be with you because that would be like signing your death certificate. Which, of course, killed Dean because he wanted Sam to be happy, but he also understood where he was coming from. Nothing good ever happened to anyone who was involved with them. Two, because you also talked to Dean about how much you liked Sam but that you were trying to understand where Sam was coming, which again, broke Dean's heart because shit, you also deserved to be happy and as much as he hated to admit it, you and Sam together were too damn cute.

So when Sam had asked Dean if he could pick you up from the hospital, instead of him because he wanted to surprise you? Dean immediately accepted, hoping that Sam would finally tell you how he felt because Dean was getting sick of watching your chick flick play out but… since he had watched it play out this far then he would at least wait long enough to see the happy ending. I mean, every chick flick had a happy ending. (Of course Dean didn't know this because he liked to watch them. Oh no no, most definitely not…) And you two? You two definitely deserved to be happy. So if Dean had to help play matchmaker with the two of you, then so be it. A few seconds after pouting, you lifted your head up from Dean's shoulder and that's when you saw the Bunker covered in Christmas decorations, exactly how you imagined and talked about.

"Wow." Was the only word that left your mouth as you looked around and took everything in. They set a tree up in the corner of the Dean cave, accompanied by multicolored lights wrapped around it with what looked like some ornaments on it. Little reindeer sat on the research table in the library, as well as other Christmas themed knick-knacks were also scattered around the Bunker. To your surprise, they had even put some garlands on the banister going down the staircase. When Dean had gotten to the bottom of the stairs with you, (which to be honest you hadn't noticed that he had moved in the first place…) was when you saw Sam nervously looking at you, wearing reindeer antlers adorned with Christmas lights and they actually lit up!

"Hey… uh, Merry Christmas." Sam chuckled as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah… um yeah! Merry- Merry Christmas! Sam, did you… did you do all this? You didn't have to, you know, I know that this isn't exactly your favorite thing…" You looked around more as you spoke softly to Sam, taking in all the decorations. Sam shrugged nonchalantly.

"I know, but I don't hate it and… it makes you happy, so… it makes me happy too. I mean, I think I did pretty good! You haven't even seen the Dean cave yet." He smiled gently at you, which helped you relax.

"Okay, well, come on Deano, take me to your Dean cave, then." Dean rolled his eyes as you smirked at him.

"Yeah, yeah okay." You relaxed against Dean as he carried you into the Dean Cave, following behind Sam.

You took in all the different decorations that Sam had put up just for you; it seemed. Which should have made you happy. I mean, Sam had done this for you! He had remembered how much Christmas meant to you and he had decorated it with things that you had from when you were younger. Part of you was happy, really happy and the other part of you… well, the other part was sad. Sam had made it clear that you and him being together was not at all a possibility. It had hurt at first, of course, but you had convinced yourself that as long as you still got to be in his life that it would be okay to just be friends with him. Fake it 'til ya make it, right? Which was always somewhat hard, but right now? It was almost impossible to just be okay with only being friends with him.

When you had met the Winchester's almost a year and a half ago, you were immediately drawn to Sam. You had just lost your family and Sam was the one who would stay up with you and listen to you talk about them. He'd let you cry if you needed to cry or scream if you needed to scream. He let you know it was okay to feel what you were feeling, and that he was there for you. He never judged you. He was just there. Sam understood you like no one else ever had and you felt you understood him just as well. After the first year of knowing him was when you decided to finally tell Sam that you liked him, honestly you loved him… but as soon as you talked about how much he meant to you, you saw his body language change. He had immediately tensed. When you thought it was because he didn't like you and then quickly freaked out, he told you about the "Winchester curse", explaining that everyone he had been with had died. You didn't care, but you could tell he would not change his mind, so you tried to respect it, push down your feelings. And it was working too until he decided to be his adorable, thoughtful self and decorate the Bunker just like you had said you would.

Before you knew it, Dean had already placed you on the couch and was mumbling about getting a beer, and then disappeared into the kitchen. Sam was grabbing a Christmas blanket with penguins and snowflakes on it, (where the hell did they come from?) to put on top of you. He then placed your favorite Christmas mug on the TV tray in front of you, accompanied by an assortment of Christmas cookies, which you could tell both of the boys had decorated.

"I thought we could watch your favorite Christmas movie while you had some hot chocolate and cookies. If you want! I just know that's something that you talked about, but whatever you want to do." All you could do was stare at him. Sam was right, you had talked about it. That was a tradition that you had always done with your family. And he remembered. Sam remembered.

Sam watched you anxiously, waiting for you to say something or honestly just stop staring at him… but you did what he would call his worst-case scenario; you started crying. Shit, shit, shit. This was bad, this was really bad. He thought he had been doing a thoughtful thing, but apparently he somehow had upset you. He kneeled down next to you, throwing off his antlers, and placing his hand gently on your face, wiping away your tears.

"Hey, hey, hey. Y/N, it's okay shhh. I'm sorry honey, I'm so sorry. I… I was trying to do something nice because I know how much this day means to you and I… I'm sorry I screwed it up. I'm so sorry. Please Y/N, don't cry…" He continued to wipe away your tears when you suddenly stopped and stared at him, confused.

"Wait… you think I'm upset that you did this for me?" Sam nodded slowly, now also confused.

"Well, yeah… I mean, you're crying…"

"Yeah! Because… because you're so confusing!" You let out a sigh of frustration, quickly wiping away your tears with your left hand, as Sam just looked at you, dumbfounded. What the hell was happening right now? How was he the confusing one?

"Dammit Sam. I'm not upset about the decorations or the cookies or the hot chocolate. I'm… it was just so thoughtful because you actually listened and remembered what I had talked about." Sam nodded, still kneeling in front of you.

"Well, yeah, of course. I know how much Christmas means to you and I know it was going to be hard not having your family here and you didn't even get to do most of the things you normally did." You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him and smile.

"Exactly. You've always been so thoughtful, Sam, and I just… I-I really care about you… Look, I know you're scared, okay? And I know you think us being together is dangerous, but I don't care. I love you, Sam. I've loved you for a long time and I just… I can't-no, I won't pretend anymore. I lost my whole family, and I didn't get the chance to tell them how much I loved them. But you're still here and so am I, by some miracle. So you know what? Screw it! Because if the universe wants to come after me for loving you, Sam Winchester, then so be it because I'm done pretending." With that, you leaned into Sam and kissed him and God, was it a good kiss.

Sam was speechless, I mean elated about what had just happened, because truth be told, he did not see it going that way… However when it finally registered in his mind that you were indeed kissing him and that you had just told him you were also in love with him was when he just let go and soaked in the moment. Yes, Sam of course, was still worried about the so-called "Winchester curse" but you were right. Right now, you and him together kissing in the Bunker was the only thing that mattered. He gently pushed your hair behind your ear with one hand while the other one cradled your face. You were the first to pull back, and you just smiled at him. This was not what you expected to happen for Christmas this year, and by the look of it, neither did Sam, but you wouldn't have it other way. You and Sam had both gotten your ultimate Christmas gift that night; each other and that's all you both could have ever wanted.

[cinnamon-flame]

What are some of your WoF headcanons?

Sorry for the wait! I don't really have any personal headcanons about individual characters from wof so this is going to be mainly about the tribes:

Nightwings:

Most mammalian looking of all the tribes, i always draw their ears standing upright like bat ears. I also give them forward facing, curved horns sometimes. They are also one of the smaller tribes out there. I believe they should have a wider color range for their scales not just very dark colors (dark body with neon details nightwings?)

Since they are so connected to the moons, I think it would be cool if their powers fluctuated with their phases. Depending on what moon is currently in what phase their abilities would be stronger/weaker. So maybe prophets wouldn't have to worry about getting too many visions for certain amount of time. Out of all the tribes I think they would have the biggest reason to worship the moon so I like to think that as a tribe Nightwings are very festive.

Icewings:

I often draw them like horses/deer, I strongly believe in fluffy Icewings. Also they have antlers. I don't really agree with them being only white with some small variation, I think they should be pale but colorful, you know the whole pastel rainbow of colors. Also I often give them markings inspired by seals or horses.

Icewings would collect their shed spikes and wear them like decoration or give them like presents. Also they totally would braid their fluff. I think they would have competitions in which they would use their ice breath to make ice sculptures and whole structures. It would be the thing Icewings are known for. Due to how their society functions I also think Icewings would just leave their kingdom to search for other places to live in. Like everywhere you can think of there would be a local Icewing doing their own thing.

Rainwings:

Larger frills that can end at the base of their shoulders, making their head look like a flower when they are fully stretched. I would give them the most reptilian traits of all the tribes but I personally also believe that they are closely related to Nightwings so I try to give them the same ears and scale patterns as them.

Sandwings:

Their back fins should come in a lot of different styles, like curly and wavy. You know for variety. Also they get markings from snakes and other reptiles as well as from cats. Also most of them get long, floppy ears from me. They also get curved horns.

I like to think that they are very keen on using glass in their architecture, like a lot of stained glass and whole glass roof structures. And succulent gardens, a lot of them. Some Sandwings would also live in cave systems and would lead a different life style then the majority of the kingdom.

Mudwings:

I often give them amphibian traits mixed in with some stuff from goats and cattle. Curved horns and sometimes fur. I like to think they are somewhat related to seawings so I also give them similiar stuff to them. Like amphibians they are creatures of both water and land, but they also get some funky wing shapes, broad and cut at the two outer-most fingers.

They do a lot of things with clay and stones, both in architecture and art. I think they were mistreated by canon, I love how they have super strong sibling bonds. So maybe every sibling squad gets has their own symbols. Mudwings seem like the tribe that likes to be well dressed for the occasion, so they get a lot of scarves and tattoos.

Seawings:

Shrimpwings for life (look at @spicyylemonss idea and design, it's the best thing ever). But other than that I think they should get more fins. And that their back fin should be segmented. I feel like their tails are the most significant part of the seawing design so they should come in different shapes and lengths. Also color variety! Fishes are so colorful so Seawings should be too. Also they have a lateral line. Seawings should be more specialised too, for different sea ecosystems. Sea isn't all the same over there, there different layers and the tribe should reflect that too.

Seagrass farms. That's all.

Also I think they should be the tribe (besides Nightwings and Skywings) that records a lot of history, but on stone tablets instead of scrolls. So there would be a lot of just stone pillar libraries filled with knowledge.

Skywings:

Colors ranging from yellow passing through browns, oranges, reds, pinke and all they way to violet. Long, long horns. Also feathered Skywings! They have a lot of bird traits that help with flight, like the movable, two-part ribs and the keel that connects their chest and wing muscles. Their snouts are also hardened and they resemble beaks.They can have decorative wings and bird combs. Some of Skywings look more like their other dragon cousins. They have more reptilian traits mixed with goat stuff.

Their houses look a little bit like bird nests. They build them very high up in the air. The Skywings are really tightly knit bunch, so you're unlikely to see one without a big numer of others. They migrate for place to place seasonally with their family groups.

I don't have much for the other dragon tribes from the third arc cause I haven't read any of the books besides the first one. But I would like to share my thoughts on Silkwings here for a moment.

I think their apperance should change more between their metamorphosis. Butterflies and moths in most cases don't look exactly the same as their caterpillars do. I think it would be cool if they changed colors and body structures a bit. The young Silkwings are much more chunky and fluffy, with big but short tails. They have a lot of fur on them but they also have a little bit of the protective plating on their backs and tail. They also have shorter horns. Adults are much taller then the caterpillars. They also have the horse body proportions of Icewings. Long fluff on their necks and legs and sometimes face too. They lose the fluff in between the scale armor plates on their necks and tails. Their legs are really long comapred to their bodies and and kinda thin too. Also antler horns!

I'm away from my tablet unfortunately so I only have this doodle to offer as my translation of this idea.

[love-and-monsters]

Faebruary: Fake Dating

M Faerie X F human, 7,922 words

You guys remember this post? Well, here’s the story it was based on. A human gets lost in the Faerie world, and her only hope of getting back home safe is agreeing to go on a date with one smug Faerie boy. Hope you enjoy!

Admittedly, this was probably something you should have seen coming when you stepped into a fairy ring.

It was stupid. Everyone said you weren’t supposed to step inside the little circles of mushrooms that sprouted up all over the hills. But it was just stupid. Fairies weren’t real. So when there had been a circle of mushrooms across your path, you had just walked toward it.

The instant your foot crossed the line, there was a sickening spinning feeling in your stomach. Your foot plunged down like you’d missed a step in the dark and you fell into a swirling sea of mist.

You came to spitting out leaves, though you couldn’t remember hitting the ground. It was as if the ground had materialized against your face. Slowly, you staggered upright.

There was no longer sunlight. The forest was full of mist. And the trees seemed much more closely clustered than they had before. Their bark was darker, their branches more gnarled and reaching.

It was deathly silent. You wrapped your jacket closer around yourself. “Hello?” you called. Your voice died a foot from your throat. It was like the mist absorbed the sound.

Several feet in front of you, a pale blue light blinked into being.

“Hey!” you called. “I’m over here!” The blue light winked and bobbed, then began to shrink into the distance. You plunged through the foliage after it.

No matter how fast you ran, the light seemed to be permanently ahead of you. It sped up as you went onward until you were flat-out sprinting to keep up.

“I wouldn’t follow the light if I were you.”

You skidded to a stop, feet skidding on the damp leaves. The voice had come from somewhere above you. Squinting in the dim light, you could make out a figure crouching in the tree branches. Lightning fast, the figure leaped, vanishing into the mists.

“Fuck!” you swore, looking around. The figure was gone. It had moved so fast you hadn’t even been able to see where it had gone. Frantic, you looked for the blue light. Had it gotten away while you were looking at the figure?

“You’re not going to lose the light.” The voice came from behind and above you this time. You whipped toward it. The figure was pointing into the distance. Following the finger, you could see the gentle gleam of blue light bobbing there, like it was waiting.

An unsettled crawling feeling moved up your spine. “How did you know it was going t be there?”

Details of the figure were impossible to make out in the dim lighting, but you could hear that he was grinning. “Because will-O-the-wisps are nothing if not predictable.”

He punctuated his sentence by leaping from the tree and coming to a crouched landing in front of you.

You stared. What had landed in front of you was not human. He looked vaguely human, even handsome, by some definitions. A strong, though narrow, jaw, sharp nose, black hair that was teased back into a carefully disheveled style. But he was dressed in odd clothes, the sort of thing you’d expect from an old English court, and he had a tail. A long, thin tail that weaved and twisted behind him like it was caught in a current. And he had antlers, small, but pronounced antlers.

“I forgot,” he said. “Mortals are so often stunned into silence when they see the natural splendor of the Fair Folk.”

That made you find your tongue. “What are you?”

His smirk vanished. “There was a time when mortals were rightfully respectful of us. If you had half a head of sense, you would be on your knees, begging for mercy.”

There was a pause, as if he was waiting for you to do so. You didn’t, though you kept your mouth cautiously shut. He snorted. “I’m a Fae. One of the Fair Folk. And you, little mortal, are utterly trapped in the Faerie lands.”

“Trapped?” you repeated. An icy cold stone dropped into your stomach.

The Faerie grinned. “Now you see the truth of your situation. Yes. You’re trapped. Unless you convince a Faerie to let you go, you’ll be trapped in this land for all eternity.” He swept closer to you. “And this place is not safe for lone mortals. There are things here that would make you wish the will-O-the-wisp would have dragged you down into its bog and stripped the meat from your bones.”

You couldn’t repress a shudder. The Fae noticed and his smile grew wider. “I assume you’re telling me this for a reason,” you said, keeping your eyes on him.

“Me?” he said, pressing a hand to his chest, the picture of faux-innocence. “I want to show you the way out. You do want to go home, do you?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Uh huh. And I’m assuming you want something in return.”

His lips curled. “Figures the one thing humans wouldn’t forget about a Faerie is that we like even trades. It would make things so much easier.” He ruffled his fingers through his hair, carefully avoiding his antlers. “Yes. If you would like me to guide you out of the Faerie world, then I will need something in return.”

He didn’t continue. You narrowed your eyes at him. “And what is that?”

He huffed out a sigh. “Not going to write me a blank check, hm? Fine. If I am going to lead you out of here, I need you to agree to attend a Faerie party with me.”

That threw you for a loop. “You want me to what?”

“Attend a party with me,” he said, grinning at your confusion.

“That’s it?” you asked. He nodded.

“One night, twelve hours, at a party with me,” he said. “All I need is for you to attend as my date.”

That seemed far too good to be true. “Is this a trick? Some kind of way to trap me or humiliate me or otherwise coerce me into staying?”

The Faerie rolled his eyes. “Are all humans so suspicious? No. I just need a date.”

“Why don’t you pick a Faerie, then?” you asked.

“Because I think you would piss of my parents the most,” he said.

You lifted one of your eyebrows. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”

 He waved a hand. “Neither. I just need a mortal. That would completely ruin their night.”

There was genuine venom in his voice when he said it. You stared at him, struck dumb. How old was he? You mentally reassessed him. His age was sort of difficult to determine. There was an unearthly beauty to him, no sign of the sort of little imperfections that come around with age. But if you looked really closely, studied the lines of his face, he looked like someone barely out of his teenage years. Maybe nineteen, or at least the Faerie equivalent. You held back a snort. At least maturity wise, you were probably around two years older than he was.

The Faerie drew himself up haughtily, apparently taking your silence as some sort of agreement. “You must state your agreement out loud. It will be a Faerie agreement, so there will be no going back on your deal.” He smiled unpleasantly. “Backing out of a Faerie deal is not a good idea, especially for a fragile mortal.”

You eyed him cautiously. There was still a chance he was trying to trick you or coerce you or trying to do something else of the sort. But, given how young he seemed, you were somewhat less inclined to suspicion. The longer you spent with him, the more affected his persona seemed. It was the posturing of someone who had just been given their first taste of power and was still unsure how to properly use it.

“All right,” you said. “How do we make an agreement?”

The Faerie smiled smugly and extended a hand. Several of his fingers were clad with large, heavy rings, inset with black gems. All of them bore a triangular symbol. “Take my hand.” He said it like it was some sort of great favor to you. You did so. His fingers felt oddly sharp under his skin, slender and bony. “Now. The stipulations of this deal are that I will return you to the human world, to your home. In exchange for this, you will attend a dance with me as my date. You will be my date for twelve hours, over one night. Once the night is over, I will return you home again.”

“I have stipulations,” you said, forcing your voice to be confident. He lifted an eyebrow, but allowed your to continue. “While I am your guest, you will not conspire against me in any way. You will not allow me to come to any harm, nor will you attempt to trap me here once more. If I am harmed in any way, the deal is null and void and you will return me home immediately.”

The Faerie wrinkled his nose. “I would not allow my date to be harmed. Even if you are a mortal, the rules of hospitality still apply to you.”

“And you won’t allow me to unknowingly do anything that could harm me,” you added. The Faerie gave you a sarcastic look.

“Are you finished?” he drawled. You hesitated, trying to wrack your brain for anything else you might need. Nothing came immediately to mind.

“Yes. I’m finished,” you said, however suspiciously. The Faerie grinned.

“Then the deal is struck.” His voice seemed to boom through the forest. A tingling sensation ran across the back of your hand, then it sharpened into a piercing sting, like an insect was biting the back of your hand. You yelped, but the Faerie held onto your hand firmly.

The sting faded and the Faerie released your fingers. You shook your hand, trying to get the blood to flow through it again. On the back of your hand, imprinted as neatly on your skin as a tattoo, was a black marking. It was a circle, emblazoned with some kind of angular sigil.

 “It marks our bargain,” the Faerie said, showing you his own hand. He was similarly marked, though his brand was bright purple. “Should either of us break it, the mark will sink into our skin, and we shall endure some sort of tragedy.” He smiled, all needle-sharp teeth and cruelty. “So be certain that you do not break it.”

“I won’t,” you said, voice flinty. The Faerie looked amused by your anger.

“Then I shall fulfill my bargain first,” he said. He held out his arm to you, as if he was escorting you to a party rather than freeing you from an alien realm. “Shall we go?”

You hesitated, but he had made a promise. And you had also heard that Faeries couldn’t lie. You took a deep breath and linked your arm through his. “Yes.”

The Faerie took a step forward and the ground tilted under your feet. The mist billowed out obscuring your vision. The only thing that seemed real was the Faerie next to you. Your grip on him tightened, despite yourself.

“Move,” the Faerie said into your ear. You took an uncertain step forward. The mist had covered the ground so thickly that it looked like you were walking on clouds. When you took a step forward, the ground seemed to spin under your feet, like you were covering more distance than you should have been. You felt dizzy, but the Faerie moved forward with uncompromising speed and pulled you along. Only a few steps later, the mist had disoriented you so much that you couldn’t tell where anything was. The world seemed to be spinning around you even when you weren’t moving. You needed to cling to the Faerie’s arm to stay on your feet.

Sunlight pierced through the trees and you squinted your eyes shut. The mist evaporated within seconds and you were standing once more in your familiar forest, blinking up into the bright light.

“And my part of the bargain has been fulfilled.” The Faerie looked no less alien and beautiful in the human world. He grinned at you. “Home again, exactly where you were taken.”

You were still clinging to his arm, you realized. Slowly, you unwound your fingers from his shirt and stepped away.

“I shall return for you on the night of the Winter Ball.”

“Which is when?” you asked.

“The full moon next. I shall find you proper garments.” He gave you a critical once over, indicating that he wasn’t optimistic about your chances of finding them yourself. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “We will meet again then.”

Mist rolled across your vision. When it melted away again, he was gone. You stared at the spot for a moment, then looked down at your hand. The marking was still there, as starkly black as it had been before. At least it was proof that you hadn’t made it up. With a final glance at the Faerie ring a few feet away, you turned and headed out of the forest.

The sun’s position told you that you should have arrived back a few hours after you left. Your arrival home informed you that was actually a day and a few hours since you’d left. Your mother left you with a lecture ringing in your ears, one that had only gotten more aggressive when she’d seen the marking on the back of your hand. No matter what you said, there was no way to convince her that you hadn’t gotten drunk, gotten a tattoo, and passed out in the woods somewhere. Admittedly, you were a little disheveled. Once you had freed yourself from her grasp, you slipped up to your room and checked your calendar.          

The next full moon was just over a week away. You marked it off on your calendar and took a deep breath. Right. Time to start prepping.

Your week was filled with pawing through old books and scouring the internet for every scrap of Faerie lore that you could find. By the time the full moon had rolled around, you had gathered as many supplies as you could find.

You were waiting in your room uncertainly when the full moon rose. The Faerie had told you he would find you, but did you need to be outside for it?

Before you could make any decisions on it, the moonlight filtering through your window thickened into a sheet of silver. It rippled and the Faerie stepped out of it like a doorway.

Unfairly, he looked even more handsome than he had when you’d met in the woods. He was dressed in silvery clothes, a flowing robe and cloak with a silvery ruff. His tail and ears were adorned with silver bangles, a choker pressed tight to his throat, and his horns were covered in silvery strands, like tinsel.

“You could have freshened up a little more,” he said, giving you a once-over. You gritted your teeth and one of your hands went to the little bag you had tied to your waist, hidden securely under your shirt. It was filled with salt and little pieces of iron. More iron and salt packets lined the inside of your clothes and you had strapped an iron knife to the inside of your thigh. A string of rowan berries was tied at your neck. With any fortune, those charms would be enough to drive off any cruel Faeries.

“I thought you were going to provide me with the garments you found appropriate,” you said in a clipped voice.

 “Only because mortals unilaterally lack taste,” he said. “There’s really only so much I can do.” He stepped back and gave a broad gesture toward the shaft of moonlight. “We only have an hour before the Ball starts. Hopefully that’s enough time to make you presentable.”

You drew yourself up and stepped through the portal of light. A chill rolled over your skin, like you had stepped through a cloud of mist.

One of your feet struck a tiled floor and you stopped. The moonlight faded into a tall, ice-white room with an arched ceiling and silvery lights decorating the walls. You paused to take in the décor and the Faerie walked into your back.

“Excuse me,” he snapped, glaring at you. You glared back. “Follow me. I have a dress picked out for you.”

He led you into a small room. A curtain divided it in half and there was a dress draped over a chair. It was gauzy and made of pale blues, silvers, and white. “Put it on. One of the servants will do your hair.”

“Servants?” you said, but he had already swept back out of the room. You sighed and picked up the dress. At least it wasn’t overly elaborate.

You slipped hurriedly into the dress. It was clearly simpler than his outfit, with far less adornment. Perhaps mortals weren’t allowed to wear as much finery as Faeries, or perhaps he just didn’t want you to outshine him. Either way, you were grateful for anything that made the outfit easier to wear.

The servants, as it turned out, were small, fluttering creatures that did your hair in a quick, simple style, a braid that was wound at the nape of your neck and secured with a silver pin. You caught a glance of yourself in a silver reflection. The dress emphasized your curves and complimented your skin tone. Your beauty wasn’t stunning, but it was simple and understated.

As soon as the servants departed, the Faerie was sweeping back into the room, cape swirling around his body. He looked you up and down. “Well, you can clean up nicely,” he said. You caught the way his eyes lingered on you. The faintest hint of a blush colored his cheeks, but then he was turning away. “Come. We need to hurry to arrive on time.”

You picked up your skirts and hurried down the hall after him. Thankfully the shimmering heels you wore were short, so it was not so difficult to walk in them. “I still don’t know your name,” you said as you caught up with him. His gaze shifted to yours suspiciously. Names were important to Faeries, you had read. Clearly, he was trying to determine if you knew that or if you were speaking in ignorance.

Finally, he spoke. “You may not have my name, but you may call me Elwain.” He tilted his head slightly toward you. “And yours?”

You told him, mimicking his wording. It was hard to tell if his expression was disappointed or not. He just strode out of the front door and onto the front steps.

Outside was all greenery, and pale, twinkling lights. Elwain led you down the steps and toward a skeletal white horse. You shivered when its pale eyes turned to you. Its mane and tail rippled and flickered like it was made of mist. There was an elegant saddle attached to its back and Elwain easily gripped the reins and pulled himself up onto its back. You hesitated, uncertain of how to climb on. You’d never ridden a horse before.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Elwain said. You glared at him. He merely rolled his eyes and extended a hand. You gripped it. His fingers were strong and steady against yours as he pulled you up into the saddle behind him. Your hands moved automatically to his waist. A flicker of something moved through your stomach before you quashed it.

The horse took off, hooves striking the ground with a sound like metal clanging. You lurched into Elwain’s back, fingers tightening at his waist. His breath caught for a moment, though you weren’t sure if it was actually your grip causing it.

The ride was swift and rocky. You were pressed awkwardly to Elwain’s back for most of it, leaning against him with every motion of the mount.

You were expecting to stop at another house, some sort of grand mansion like the one you’d left from. Instead, you stopped outside a grove of trees. They were covered in twinkling lights and noises of whooping celebration echoed through the air.

Elwain dismounted flawlessly. You twisted, attempting to copy his elegant motion. Your foot caught in the stirrup. With a stomach-flipping jolt, you stumbled.

A hand braced itself between your shoulder blades. The back of your head impacted a chest. You tilted your gaze backward. The upside-down face of Elwain stared back at you. “Mortals,” he sighed. “Hold onto me.” He shifted his position so you could get your arms around his neck. That fluttering feeling of attraction started in your chest again as he balanced you against his shoulder and reached down to undo your foot from its catch in the stirrup.

As soon as your leg was free, he lifted you up, carrying you away from the horse. “Are you all right?” he asked. You could feel his breath against your cheek. Your faces were right next to each other.

“I’m fine,” you said. There was a slight catch in your voice. A pink flush worked across Elwain’s face and he deposited you on the ground once more.

“Then we should go.” He looked at you for a moment, then sighed and reached out and fiddled with the choker at your neck. His fingers traced lightly over your skin. Your breath caught.

“There. Better,” he said, drawing himself up. “Take my arm. Stay close to me. Avoid eating anything. Take nothing from anyone. Do you understand?”

You nodded. “I understand.” You looped your arm through his. He looked at you for a moment longer, then turned toward the entrance of the party.

Music filtered through the air as you stepped through the grove of trees. It was odd, but alluring. It reminded you of lights shifting on walls, the tone constantly changing with odd trills throughout, but it was still beautiful. You shook your head, refocusing.

People swirled around you as you entered the clearing. They were strange, dressed in flowing robes and bright jewels that hung from tails and horns. As odd as it all was, it was hard to tear your eyes away. Everything was kaleidoscopic, mesmerizing.

“Try not to look,” Elwain said. His voice was less than an inch from your ear. “Mortal minds struggle to comprehend the true nature of Faeries.” You lowered your gaze to the ground.

Elwain led you onward, across the forest floor, toward the center of the throng. Bright lights fell on you and you squinted against them. “Announcing the Silver Son, Elwain Corridale, and his mortal consort!”

There was a sudden burst of murmuring, chittering, and general commotion. You lifted your chin, meeting the gazes of the Faeries who were looking at you with interest. Across the clearing, you could see two people, similarly beautiful and draped in clothes similar to Elwain’s, glaring. Presumably Elwain’s parents. You stared resolutely back at them.

The lights shifted away from you, but you could feel the gazes of the crowd on you regardless as Elwain led you over to the edge of the grove.

“Those two strict looking people your parents?” you asked out of the corner of your mouth.

“Yes,” Elwain whispered back. “Charming, aren’t they?” There was a sarcastic bite to his voice.

“I’m assuming you don’t get along,” you said. You were deliberately not looking at them, but you could feel their cool gazes on you. Elwain snorted.

“No. We don’t.” His gaze flicked over to them, eyes narrowed. “They seem quite irritated, do they not?” There was a note of distinct pleasure in his voice. His pale, inviting lips quirked into a small smile.

“They do,” you said cautiously. “Because you’re with a mortal?”

“Indeed.” He caught your curious gaze and rolled his eyes. “I suppose I shall have to sate your curiosity now?”

“Unless you have something better to do,” you said. “It doesn’t seem like it, considering that you’re hiding in a corner in the middle of a party.”

His gaze snapped over to you, lips curling. “You are especially irritating, even for a mortal, you know?” he said. You just looked at him steadily. He huffed out a sigh and looked back out at the dance floor. “We have not been getting along for a while.”

He lapsed into silence and you waited for a moment. “Why not?” you pressed when his was clear he was not going to be forthcoming with the answers.

Elwain grimaced. “I am the oldest of my family, set to inherit their wealth and land and the responsibility of keeping the family name out of the mud and in good standing. I’d much rather not have the responsibility. My younger sibling would be far better at taking the helm, but I am the eldest, so it falls to me, regardless of whether or not I want it, or would even be particularly good at it.” A sharp, cold grin crossed his face. “My parents have been so insistent that I take the position, regardless of my own feelings, so I figured that aggressively smearing the family name would, at the very least, piss them off. If they won’t change their decision, I can make them regret it.” He laughed. It was sharp and brittle, almost like a crow’s caw. Despite yourself, you smirked. Elwain caught your expression. “You seem… pleased.”

“It’s funny,” you admitted. “And I can get behind the idea of spiting your parents.”

Elwain’s smile shifted. It was a subtle thing, just a twitch of his lips and a smoothing of his brows, but it altered his entire expression. There was genuine happiness in his face, and his ethereal beauty melted into something gentler and more boyish. Your stomach gave a little flip. “You’re not irritated?” he asked, and there was genuine curiosity in his voice. “Mortals always seem to get awfully huffy about being used by Faeries.”

“I didn’t say that I wasn’t irritated. But I understand,” you said. You cast your gaze over at his parents again. The man was talking to someone with enormous antlers and strange, twisting legs, but his mother was glaring at you. Her gaze was like ice. It took all your will to repress a shiver. “Would you like to dance?”

Elwain gave you a surprised look. “You’d like to dance?”

“Better than standing off to one side. And if we’re going to try to be convincing to your parents, we’ll need to put on a better show than this.” Elwain’s surprise melted into an expression of amusement. His arm tightened on yours.

“Certainly. Wonderful point. Shall we?” He pulled you out onto the dance floor, threading you through the Faeries that were already out there. You ended up roughly toward the center. Some Faeries, the ones you figured were lower-class, avoided you, while others completely ignored your presence. Elwain stopped and turned to you, one hand settling on your waist, the other hand gripping yours. “Will you be able to keep up?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

You grinned back, mimicking his sharp grin. “Try me.”

The music was fast and energetic as you started to move. The beat was bouncing, easy to keep track of. Elwain led and you followed easily. Together, you swirled and weaved around the other couples.

Elwain’s hand shifted on your waist, tugging you closer to him. His fingers interlaced with yours. The beat of the music thrummed through your body, pounding in time with your heart. You were tepidly aware of other people around you, but you paid them no mind. Instead, you focused on Elwain’s face above yours, the slight knit of his brow as he focused on each dance move.

The music came to a stop. You blinked. It was as if you were stepping out of a trance, or waking from a dream. Your body was pressed against Elwain’s, almost chest to chest. With every step, you had drawn closer to each other. Your head was tilted sharply back to still look him in his face. His lips were parted slightly, and you found yourself tracing the curve of his mouth with your eyes. His fingers were tight on your lower back, tangled in the fabric of your dress.

“You’re better than I thought you’d be,” Elwain said. There was still that little edge to his voice, but it was wavering, as if it was a struggle to keep it up. He was panting a little, and you weren’t sure if it was actually from the exertion or not.

“So are you,” you said. You were staring up into his eyes. His pupils were large, endless and abyssal. He let out a slow, shuddering breath. His grip on your back loosened.

As you broke apart, you became aware of the gazes that rested upon you. Half the Faeries on the dance floor around you were staring, only swaying vaguely as a pretense for dancing. “Take a bow,” Elwain said, the edge of his mouth lifting into a smile. He swept out an arm and you mimicked him before bending low into a deep bow.

There was some scattered applause as you departed the dance floor, returning to your original place. Elwain was smiling in a smug, self-satisfied way. “I’m fulfilling my end of the bargain, yes?” you asked in an undertone.

Elwain looked down at you. “You’re certainly more effective than I thought you would be,” he said. “I can’t quite remember the last time I’ve had such a good time at a party.”

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” you decided.

“Good,” Elwain said. His voice quieted a little and sincerity blossomed in his tone. “I meant it as one.”

Before you could fully register what he’d said, Elwain’s mother came sweeping across the room toward you. She looked regal and fine, like a sculpture carved out of ice, her eyes blazing with cold fire. Her blonde hair was twisted into a tight bun, set in place with a silver, diamond-encrusted comb.

“Mother,” Elwain said. His voice was chilly enough to provoke a shiver, but you lifted your chin and stared defiantly back as his mother looked you up and down. Her lip curled and she gave you a clear look of disapproval.

“My son,” she said. Her voice hit like a whip. It took some willpower to avoid flinching. “I would like to speak to you for a moment.” It was clearly not a suggestion.

“Of course,” Elwain said, his voice measured and polite. He turned to you and fixed you with a smile. It was startlingly warm and your stomach flipped over. You bit your tongue, trying to kick the feeling away. No. Bad. Don’t start catching feelings for this guy. Elwain bent at the waist, drawing one of your hands up to his lips. His mouth brushed delicately along your knuckles. “I will return. Wait for me.”

His mother’s expression became icier and more remote, but she said nothing as she and Elwain stepped away from you. They moved to somewhere still within your eyesight, but out of earshot. You could tell they were having an intense, whispered conversation, and you could guess that you were the topic, but you couldn’t catch any details.

You were so distracted, trying to catch a whisper of their conversation, that you didn’t notice the Faerie at your side until he had grabbed your arm.

“Little mortal,” he crooned. He was pretty, so much so that it was uncanny to look at. You tried to pull your arm free from his, but his fingers were sharp and immovable as solid wood. He tugged on you, dragging you slowly but undeniably toward the dance floor.

“Little mortals shouldn’t be all alone in Faerie,” he said. His voice bounced around the inside of your head, banging off the sides of your skull until your brain was suffused by ringing noise. It was dizzying. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

He was dragging you steadily toward the dance floor. Memories of your studies screamed alarms at you. Mortals trapped in swirling Faerie dances, unable to stop even as their feet bled and their muscles strained with exhaustion. Already, you could hear the enchanting, piping music. Your brain was fuzzing. One of your hands scrabbled for the cold iron pendant under your dress, but your fingers felt clumsy. You couldn’t resist. Why did you even want to resist? The music was so beautiful, leaping through your veins, and it would be so amazing to just be able to dance…

Someone’s hand caught yours. You staggered to a stop, the fog retreating from your brain. The Faerie snarled, dropping his grip on you.

“I would thank you not to try and steal my date,” Elwain said. His voice was freezing. Even with the full force of it turned on someone else, you couldn’t stop yourself from shivering. The Faerie that had tried to grab you shrank back.

“Of course, if I had known the mortal was yours, I would have left her alone,” the Faerie said, ducking his head and backing away. “Apologies, my lord.” He scrambled back into the crowd, melting away.

 Elwain glared after him until he was gone, then turned to you, offering his arm. “Are you all right?”

You took a deep breath, stabilizing yourself. “Fine.”

“I did tell you to avoid the other Fae,” he said in a scolding tone. You glared at him.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” you said. “He ambushed me.” With Elwain’s arm around yours, the music that had been scrambling your brain seemed distant. He led you back across the room. His fingers were tight on your arm. Even when you were a safe distance away from the other Fae, he didn’t release you.

“Maybe we should stay somewhere else, for now,” he said. He picked his way through the crowd to a gap between the trees and worked his way through them.

It took only a few moments to get to the edge of the forest. The sky overhead was filled with more stars than you’d ever seen. You could even see the gradation of color from the deep navy blue at its zenith to the faint, almost purple color at the edges.

Elwain released your arm and closed his eyes. His expression fell. Suddenly, he looked exhausted and wan. You hesitated before asking, “Did everything go all right with your mother?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “She was most displeased,” he said in a haughty tone that suggested he was mimicking her. “Most displeased indeed that I was disgracing the family name by dallying with a mortal.” He rolled his eyes. “You would think she didn’t have mortal blood in her family.”

“She does?” you said. Elwain lifted a shoulder in a moody shrug.

“Most Faeries do, even the nobility. The Queen is rumored to have mortal blood in her lineage, even. Our own reproductive ability is poor. Mortals are much better at breeding. It’s not uncommon for a Faerie to marry another Faerie and sire all his children with one of his mortal servants.”

“Then why is it such a problem to be with me?” Elwain gave you a look that suggested you were either very thick or very naïve.

“You’re allowed to breed with a mortal, but you’re not supposed to treat them as an equal. You’re certainly not supposed to date one, or show her off as your partner. Breeding with mortals is more of an open secret. Actually marrying a mortal would be a huge drop in status, and as the oldest son of my family, it would be a scandal if I even married a Faerie of lower status, much less a mortal.”

“That’s why you thought I would piss off your parents,” you said. “You’re putting your family status in jeopardy.”

Elwain nodded. “Yes. They’re so concerned about my family name, I figured putting it under threat will at least get some kind of reaction.” There was an undercurrent of vindictiveness in his voice. “Perhaps it will at least get them to see that I am a living person and not just a walking vessel for carrying on their line.”

Without thinking, you put a hand on his shoulder. He went stiff, staring at you. “Glad I could help with that. It sounds like a worthy cause. I’m all for pissing off shitty parents.”

Elwain looked at you with an unreadable expression. Then his mouth twitched and he smiled. “Well, then. We should get back and do it some more, shouldn’t we?” He reached up and took your hand off his shoulder. Instead of hooking your hand into the crook of his arm, as he had been doing, he kept it in his hand.

There was a faint whistling noise. Something whizzed by your ear and made a dull ‘thunk’ as it embedded itself in the tree trunk behind you.

Your ear was stinging. You reached up and touched it. Your hand came away bloody.

“Get down!” Elwain pulled you into the bushes. His body was nearly on top of yours, pressing you down into the undergrowth. One of his hands pressed against the small of your back.

“Someone’s shooting at us!” you said redundantly. Elwain lifted his head slightly, trying to get a look around the brush. Another arrow whizzed by, slamming into the ground less than an inch from your hand.

Elwain made to grab it and yanked his hand back with a hiss. You could smell sizzing flesh. “It’s cold iron,” he said. “They’re for killing Faeries.” Horror crept into his voice. “They’re here to kill me.”

Another arrow plunged into the ground. This one was less than an inch from one of Elwain’s hands. “We need to move before they get a shot!” you said. “I can distract them, then you can run.”

“Wait! That may not be a good ide-” Before Elwain could finish his protest, you pushed your way out of the bush you’d hidden in and plunged blindly into the woods.

There were several more whistling thunks as arrows rained down on you. One of them ripped its way through the skirt of your dress and you had to pause and wrench it free. When you lifted your gaze to start running again, a shadowy figure descended from the trees in front of you.

They were entirely wrapped in black, so their features were difficult to make out, except for the fact that they were tall and skinny. A hand clapped down on your shoulder, right at the junction of your neck. It was cold, with needle-sharp fingers.

“Little mortal,” they crooned. “We were only told to kill the Faerie. With you, we can do whatever we please.” One of their fingers stroked along your cheek. Your mind fogged. “Wouldn’t you like to be my little plaything? We would have so much fun together. Or perhaps it would be funny for that little lordling to die by your hands? What a fitting death for the mortal lover.”

One of your hands went under your dress. Your brain was fuzzy, but your mind cleared as your fingers brushed your string of rowan berries. Still, you kept your gaze as unfocused as possible. Your other hand was creeping under the back of your dress. Your cold iron knife burned against your thigh. “Call out to him,” the Faerie said. “He’ll come for you, and then we’ll see how he fares when his little pet bites back-”

The Faerie had no chance to react. The knife ripped free from its sheath and you wrenched it up then down in a plunging arc. The blade tore into his chest. The smell of burning meat filled the air around you. Flesh sizzled as you ripped the knife down, carving open his belly.

The Faerie’s expression turned from gloating to terror. He staggered back, hands clamped to his gut. His motion wrenched the knife free from your hand, leaving it embedded in his stomach. He fumbled for it once, twice, before pulling it out of him. A gout of blood poured from the wound, soaking through his black clothes and puddling in the dirt.

He collapsed sideways on the ground. He was still breathing. You could hear the soft, wheezing gasps as he struggled for air. Gradually, the breaths became garbled, gurgling. He coughed, body spasming. Something warm and wet was soaking your feet. You didn’t want to look down. There was so much blood around him, more blood than you’d thought could be in a person.

It took a few moments to realize that the gurgling had stopped.

Something crashed through the bushes behind you. You whirled, lifting your second weapon in your hand. It was smaller, blunter, but maybe if you cracked them over the head, you could stun them for long enough you get away-

“Watch yourself. It’s only me,” Elwain said. He emerged into a shaft of moonlight. His long cloak was hanging in tatters from his shoulder and there were smears of muck and dirt across his face and clothes. His hair was in complete disarray. His gaze traveled up and down your body. “You’re bleeding.”

“No,” you said, stepping back to reveal the body on the ground behind you, “I’m not.”

There was a cold pause. Elwain looked between the body and you several times, as if trying to reconcile the evidence. Finally, he stepped past you and knelt next to the body.

“Cold iron,” he said, his tone unreadable. “I should have searched you before bringing you here. I figured humans had largely forgotten all the old methods.”

“If you had searched me, he would have killed me and then you,” you said in a chilly voice.

“A fair enough point,” Elwain said, albeit a touch reluctantly. “You are far more clever than I gave you credit for.” He rustled with the body a bit more, then went still, sucking in a sharp breath.

“What?” you said, leaning over his shoulder. He lifted a silvery pendant, dangling it from a chain around his fingers.

“I recognize this,” he said in a hollow voice. “My family crest.”

You stared at the little triangular that dangled from the chain. “He was from your family.”

“Sent by them, at least. The crest marks him as one of our assassins.” His voice caught. It was only the slightest of noises, something that you almost didn’t notice. For a moment, his expression crumpled. He took in a swift, choked breath and his face smoothed over. His eyes were still distant, staring absently ahead.

You reached out and squeezed his hand. His fingers tightened on yours with crushing force. “I’m sorry.”

He breathed deeply. “We need to go. If there’s one, there will be more.” He fumbled with the ties of his cloak. It dropped into the foliage. He was turning to you in a moment, fingers sliding along your bodice. You yelped quietly as he tugged free some of the outer layers of your dress, leaving a shift that would be far easier to run in. Despite the danger, you found yourself focusing on the skim of his fingers against your skin.

“Where are we going?” you asked as Elwain started to tug you through the trees.

He skidded to a stop, gaze darting wildly. “I- I don’t know.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. His expression was lost, uncertain. There was nowhere for him to go, you realized. His family was gone. He was being chased by assassins. His life was gone.

Fine. You would take over. “Go back to the mortal world,” you said. “It’ll at least shake them off your tail for a while.”

 Elwain blinked at you, expression clearing. His fingers tightened on yours and he picked up into a run. Within a few steps, you were staggering to a stop in a mortal forest.

“They probably won’t come after me,” Elwain said. “They won’t want to draw the attention of mortals. And as long as I’m here, I’m out of their way.” He blinked slowly. “I have been exiled from Faerie on pane of death.” His voice was hollow, weak.

You leaned against him, trying to comfort him. “I’m so sorry.”

Elwain tossed his head back and laughed. It was a sharp, grating laugh, nearly inhuman. Your hair stood on end hearing it. “I knew my family had executed political irritants before,” he said between choked breaths, “but I never realized they would count me among the number!”

His laughter broke, turned into wracking sobs. He swayed into your side, pressing his face into your shoulder. You rubbed his back helplessly.

It took some time before he lifted his head again. He looked significantly less magnificent in his tattered clothes, with his eyes bloodshot and puffy. There was something oddly endearing about it, though. “I don’t know where to go,” he said in a quiet voice. “I have never had to stay in the mortal world before.”

“You can stay with me,” you said. “But you’re going to have to pull your weight.”

 He looked at you archly, drawing himself up in a way that could have made him look impressive, except the effect was ruined by his running makeup. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

You smiled. “You’re going to have to get a job.”

 Two weeks later, Elwain came stumbling into the house and fell face-first onto the couch.

“How was work?” you asked. Elwain let out a tortured groan. “That good, huh?”

“Every day I work there and don’t curse someone is a miracle,” he said, voice still muffled in the cushions.

“I mean, you’re doing pretty good. And the tip money is really something,” you said. It was odd to see Elwain in a cheap fast-food uniform, but even that couldn’t dampen his unearthly attractiveness. There had been a small gaggle of people who’d been leaving generous tips along with some suggestive compliments.

Elwain crawled across the couch and planted his head in your lap. You drew your fingers slowly through his hair. “I don’t see why I have to work a job. I could glamour a few stones into diamonds and we would be set for life.”

You snorted. “The illusion would wear off and selling diamonds isn’t as easy as you seem to think it is. If you’re going to live in the mortal world, you need to live like a mortal.”

Elwain rolled his eyes. “You are a slave driver.”

“Yeah, I’m so cruel,” you laughed. “Maybe next time, I’ll let the assassins get you.”

Elwain sat up. His face had a tendency to flush patchily, with red spreading unevenly over his skin. It was oddly humanizing. “It was rather impressive, that move with the knife under your dress,” he said. “You were far more clever than I gave you credit for.”

“Thank you,” you said, a little smug. “Us mortals are quite impressive, aren’t we?”

“Hmph.” Elwain’s blush deepened. “Yes, well. Out of all the mortals I could have picked, I’m quite pleased it was you.” He curled up in your lap. His face nestled into the crook of your neck. “You are quite a special mortal.”

“Hm.” You smiled. “I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You could feel Elwain’s mouth move against your skin and the soft rush of his breath as he laughed. “Good. It was intended as such.”

[fallout4reactsblog]

companions react to news of the institute christmas party courser revolution and the fact that the institute is now apparently populated entirely by festive rogue coursers in elf costumes and also what ramifications this has on the politics of the commonwealth as a whole. father's drowned corpse, still in his silly santa hat, is now impaled on the antlers of the fake reindeer on the sleigh prop by the institute's metaphorical front door as a warning and a symbol of their casting off chains.

Cait: “You have to at least give them some points for creativity.”

Cait pulls a face, but says, “I guess.”

“Come on, Cait. You could at least admit it’s a little funny. I’d have paid good money to be a fly on the wall that day.”

“It’s fucked up, is what it is. How are you so calm?”

“How are you so stressed?” They lean back in their chair, folding their arms contentedly. “They basically did our job for us. No more Institute.”

She sighs. “You’re nuts.”

“Maybe. I guess all we can do is wait and see what happens, huh? Maybe they’ll retreat to their underground hidey-hole and leave the Commonwealth alone.”

“Not countin’ on it.”

“You can be as pessimistic as you like. The way I see it, this is a good thing both ways. Either the Institute collapses without strict management- which would be good- the coursers decide they don’t believe in what the Institute was doing before and stop- also good- or we go in there and only have to kill half of what was there. A win-win-win situation.”

She shakes her head. “Whatever you say. I’m not buyin’ it.”

Curie: “The absurdity of the situation is certainly not lost on me, Madam/Monsieur, but surely there are still, ah, consequences for this?”

“Oh, sure, yeah, definitely. I mean, they’ve basically got my son on a pike on the CIT lawn. But, you know, don’t sweat the petty things and don’t pet the sweaty things, as the old saying goes.”

“I... do not think this is a ‘petty thing’ anymore.”

They wave a hand dismissively. “We’ll wait for the dust to settle, then go check it out. Until then, I’m not jumping to any conclusions.”

“I am merely saying that, given the evidence, this seems quite disastrous, especially in terms of political instability.”

“Ah, who cares about politics? Unless they or someone else starts a war, it’ll be fine. Let ‘em live a little. Everybody’s gotta have a rebellious teenager phase at some point.”

Curie wasn’t sure this counted as being a rebellious teen, but if that was what brought sole comfort, she would let them have it.

Danse: Listening Post Bravo is quiet. That’s how he likes it, and how it’s going to stay.

Courser uprising. Of course, it was a courser uprising. What else could it have been? Those things are killing machines; death is everything they were designed for, and now they’ve taken the reigns and can do as they see fit across the Commonwealth with no masters to keep them in check.

He pulls himself a little tighter into his corner. God, what a mess. This is over. They needed to go back to DC and forget they had ever heard of the Institute. Tactical retreat. If Arthur wasn’t so far on his warpath, he might have even suggested it, but he was six feet deep in his “now’s the time to strike” speech with no sign of stopping to think about the hole he was digging.

Well, Arthur could do what he wanted. Danse has had enough of this, enough of the goddamn Commonwealth, enough of the synths, enough of it all. This was his home, now, and he was going to sit here and plant potatoes and forget anything that happened outside. Especially the fact that coursers even existed and could, presumably, come knocking on his door at any moment. 

He was going to make an effort to forget that first.

Deacon: He lets out a long, low, whistle, then turns to Dez. “We should’ve thought of that one first, Boss. It’s genius.”

“It’s madness.” Desdemona pinches the bridge of her nose. “But I suppose it works in our favor, at least for now. There should be chaos in the Institute right about now.”

“Other synths probably saw the carnage.” Glory pipes up. “They might be getting some similar ideas. This could be our moment.”

“Who would’ve predicted this, though?” Deacon grins. “It’s so out there that I can’t even be surprised that it happened. I mean, tell me “Holiday Office Party Leads to Destruction of Commonwealth Boogeyman” doesn’t sound like a headline you’d see in the Publick these days. It’s the perfect brand of Commonwealth crazy.”

“The Brotherhood is going to want to get on this,” Carrington says, shooting a glare Deacon’s direction. “We need to act before they can get there.”

“I’ve reached out to our man on the inside,” Deacon replies, glaring back. “But until we hear back, we might as well enjoy the show.”

Dez shakes her head. “I suppose so.”

Gage: “Honestly? Can’t blame ‘em. That holiday party sounds like an actual nightmare. I’d kill someone if they stuck elf ears on me, too.”

“Damn. There go my plans for next Christmas.”

Sole’s tone is dry enough he can’t tell if they’re joking. “I’m serious, Overboss. You even look at me with a costume-”

“I value my life, thanks.”

“Just providin’ fair warning. I don’t think any of the others would take kindly to it, either.”

They shake their head. “Mason wouldn’t mind. He practically dresses up in a costume every day.”

“Are you shitting me? He’d be the one that hated it the most.”

“Absolutely not. Mags would hate it the most.”

He thinks about it a moment, then replies, “Fair point, but what about Nisha?”

Sole sucks in a tense breath. “Oh, that’d be a mess. A bloody, ugly mess. Moral of the story: no holiday parties.”

“Good advice.”

Hancock: “I mean, good for them?” He stares at the ceiling, still a little baffled. “I guess?”

“But what does this mean, John?” Fahrenheit lights up a cigarette across from him.

“Well, we’ll be fine. I have that on good authority. Everybody else...” He makes a face.

“Exactly. No one knows.”

“No one even knew this was an option.” Smoke hisses between his teeth. “I mean, it’s fitting that they’d go up in smoke because of their own arrogance, but still.”

“People are losing it.”

He snorts. “Think of the Brotherhood. They must be havin’ a real heyday over there. But us? We’ll be fine. That’s what matters, right?”

“That’s what matters.”

MacCready: “I honestly don’t know what to say.”

Sole shrugs. “Then don’t say anything. I’m still not sure how I feel about it myself.”

“This is a good thing, right?” He looks to them for some explanation. “Right?”

“It’s too early to say, yet.”

“’Too early to say’? It’s a courser uprising for crying out loud. Forget what I said. This is bad.”

“Could turn out to be good, though.”

“Okay, it could, but...” he shakes his head. “What the heck. You’re right. We’ll see.”

Still, it’s a messed-up way to go. The only thing worse than being killed by a courser, he imagines, is being killed by a courser dressed up as a holiday elf.

Nick: He blinks slowly, purses his lips, then carefully folds his newspaper and puts it to the side.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I know. Crazy, huh?” Sole pops the cap off a Nuka-Cola and takes a seat on his desk. “All it took was a Christmas party.”

“I gotta say, this wasn’t among the ways I thought the Institute would go. Up in a firey ball, sure, but at the hands of killing machines dressed as Santa’s elves?”

“That’s what makes it so great! No one saw this coming, the Institute least of all, I assume. Can you imagine the mess that must be happening at Boston Airport right now? The Brotherhood is shitting their pants as we speak.”

He just shakes his head. “We can close that case, I guess. I’m not sure if I should be happy for them or horrified at the circumstances. Still, we should be careful; it’ll be hard to know what a change in leadership means for us.”

“Sure, sure.”

“I’ll give ‘em credit for creativity, though.”

Piper: This is the best thing to happen all year.

For once, papers are flying off the shelves. She’s selling copies right off the press, selling them before they’re even printed. She’s on backorder for the story of the festive courser rebellion, which she’d heard all the details about from a Diamond City guard wearing suspiciously Deacon-like sunglasses. But forget him.

People have traveled to get here and get their hands on the Publick. There’s someone from Bunker Hill sitting next to someone from Cambridge next to someone who said they came from the Glowing Sea, of all places. The caps she’s making is more than she could have ever imagined, and she’s glad she faced sleep deprivation to make this one a Publick Occurrences exclusive. It’s been well worth it so far. Nat doesn’t even have to stand on the street to hawk the paper, people are coming right up to her door and knocking, no joke.

She knew the war would be profitable, but it’s made even better by the way it all went down. A holiday party gone wrong is the perfect headline, and if she could find a courser, she’d kiss them for their genius. Because this is the best thing to happen to her since she not-so-subtly implied McDonough was a synth.

Bless the coursers of the Institute for their impeccable sense of style.

Preston: “I have to say, I didn’t expect to be crossing ‘take care of the Institute’ off of my to-do list so quickly.”

Sole cocks their head to the side. “I mean, it’s not gone yet. Just... under new management.”

“New management, new threat in my opinion. You can’t really believe everything is going to stay the same after this. The Institute is going to change in at least a couple of ways.”

“Fair.” They lean up against the workbench. “Kinda crazy how it all went down, though.”

He chuckles. “I’d call that an understatement, General. No one could’ve seen this one coming. Trigger-happy Brotherhood goes on the warpath? I thought we might see that one, but blowing up from the inside?” He shakes his head. “That’s a new one.”

“They kinda had it coming, though. Who thought making killing machines play Barbie was a good idea?”

“Someone who came to regret it, no doubt.”

[critical-hazbin]

Alastor Comic Review

(Spoiler alert: the comic’s not very good.)

The Angel Dust comic actually did a pretty good job of establishing Angel’s character, his conflict, and his reasons for joining the Hotel. There were some issues with lettering, and some awkward dialogue, but otherwise it was good. 

I wish I could say the same for the Alastor comic. I was really anticipating it, and it ended up being a lot of... nothing.  

It’s mostly just Alastor wandering around (a still desolate and not at all overcrowded) Hell by himself. We see him save a young girl from being attacked, which was actually really great. But just when the comic finally gets interesting, it ends. We don’t see if he bothers to comfort the girl, or if he just takes his food and leaves. We see that he’s jealous of Vox, and thinks he’s overrated, but his furious ranting seems out of place, since we don’t see Vox actually do anything besides smile menacingly at him. (Also, we were told over and over again Alastor doesn’t swear, but that was changed. For some reason.)

We don’t see him interact with any of his friends (Husker, Niffty, Rosie). We don’t see him actually have a conversation with Vox (he was right there???). We don’t get any real sense of why he’s at the hotel, aside from that he’s obviously bored. No one knows for sure what the “fairer means” line actually means, and that was literally the most important line of the comic. Due to a poor writing choice, we have no idea if he meant to say fairer sex (implying women), lesser means (implying poor people), or if he just cares about underdogs in general. 

The only consistent through-line to the comic, from my perspective, is that everywhere Alastor goes, he makes things worse. He feeds the birds devilled eggs and they attack the waiter. He tosses his hat to the ladies and they become hostile towards each other. He picks up a flower and it wilts. He goes to rescue a girl from harm and she is saved but ends up cowering on the floor. He makes things worse, and he doesn’t seem to care. All the more reason why Charlie should not have let him anywhere near her project. He’s going to ruin things, and he’s not going to try to fix it. I’m hoping Alastor will get a redemption arc, and he clearly cares a little bit, but he’s just kind of awful right now. It’s hard to root for him, and I’m not even sure if we’re supposed to. 

Artstyle-wise, this comic looks distinctly different from the official Hazbin style. While in the pilot Alastor had a much softer look, with a rounded face and wide eyes, in the comic the style is much more angular, his face is narrower, and he has a pointier chin and longer nose. His antlers are down lower too: 

I don’t know why the Alastor comic looks so different from the Angel Dust one, which stuck pretty closely to the canon designs. If I hadn’t already known there was going to be an Alastor comic, I might have thought this was fanmade. I much prefer the official Hazbin style over the style used in the comic. 

Also: Alastor’s antlers kept randomly disappearing and reappearing throughout the comic, especially towards the end. These characters are so overly detailed even the professional artists either forget his monocle or his antlers.

Finally, this comic really doesn’t tell us anything new about Alastor, other than the idea that he might be lonely or that he might intervene on behalf of those he feels deserve help. It also doesn’t change the fact that he assaulted Vaggie in the pilot. I’m very tired of the “Alastor is a sexist” or the “Alastor is chugging his ‘respect women juice’” narratives dominating the conversation when neither is really true. I don’t think Alastor really respects anyone much, he sees everyone as beneath him. But I think he was raised to be chivalrous and therefore is polite and protective towards women who fit into his idea of how women should behave. That doesn’t make him a sexist, but it’s not true respect. I’d love to see this addressed in the show at some point in the future. 

This comic could have been so much better. It felt pretty pointless overall and came out very, very late. It was expected to come out in April, was completed June 30th, was supposed to release late July, and was finally published in October after Vivzie herself held it up for another three months. I understand Spindlehorse can release their content on whatever schedule they want as an independent company, but that kind of delay is not going to fly with a production company like A24, or any boss, really. It seems very unprofessional to me. 

Some random positive things about the comic:

*The cannigals

*Alastor mentioning Rosie

*Alastor looking frustrated when people run away from him (it’s definitely not because you eat people, Al)

*Vox smiling back at Alastor to intimidate him

*”Really nothing good on these days, huh?” Careful Al, your jealousy is showing.

*The sheep girl probably did something bad to be in Hell, what’s her story?

*Alastor supporting the street artist by tossing him a coin

TL;DR: I didn’t like the comic because it felt boring and pointless, but at least it was pretty in-character for Alastor. You can disagree with me all you like in the comments/reblogs, just please be respectful. 

[askmyboys]

Xovarkzis

Here’s the last god/goddess I made so far! More to come im sure lmao

| Name: Xovarkzis (pronunciation: Zo-Vark-Zis) God of Time (also has some power over life and death)

| Nicknames: Xo (again pronounced as Zo) or Vark/Ark

| Gender: He/Him, They/Them, She/Her, and It/It’s, gender doesn’t STRICTLY matter for them, you can call them a god or a goddess either one

| Age: It’s speculated that perhaps Xovarkzis has been around since the beginning of time, their specific age is unknown BUT it’s clear that he is over countless centuries old

| Height: 500ft (when they come down to visit Earth they shift down to about 6’3”)

| Species/Race: Well its obvious but still, just to reiterate- God/Goddess

| Hair Color: The left side of his hair is White and the right side of his hair is Black (his hair is a quiff style)

| Eye Color: Left eye is pure white and the right eye is pure black (they have a third eye on their forehead that is mixed between black n white, it isn’t two eyes, its just one eye with split colors, the left side of the eye is pure white and of course the right side is pure black)

| Skin Color/Body Type: The left side of his body is black and the right side is white (ayo a bit of a reversal there lmao) and he’s pretty lanky tbh

| Appearance: She’s got a few outfits BUT the main one is a white toga with a long black silk piece that’s draped over his shoulder (it’s got some white wording sewn into it but the language seems to be unknown, Xo’s language has been lost for centuries, you’d be lucky to find ANYONE aside from the goddess themself that speaks it or can even translate it, if you REALLY wanna know I’ll tell you, it’s basically going to translate into a blessing) it wears black and white victorian style boots (you know the boot got them h e e l s) for some reason he seems to have antlers, b i g ones- likewise the left side is a white antler and the right side is a black antler, he has necklaces hanging from those antlers full of Turritella Agate stones(it is believed to help in times of change, dispelling negative thoughts and reliving conditions of fatigue) and Snowflake Obsidian stones (it’s a 'stone of purity' bringing balance to the body, mind, and spirit. Said to be beneficial for the skin and veins) and she has a necklace she wears on her neck that is a Sodalite Stone (it helps to calm and clear the mind, bring joy and relieve a heavy heart. Said to aid the metabolism and lymphatic system)

He wears a white glove on his left hand and then a black one on the right (they cut the tips out of them so their black and white claws can peep through BUT ONLY for the claws, I’ll explain the gloves being a VERY crucial detail in side facts)

They have razor sharp teeth (they also have a circle beard btw, it being the colors of each part of the respective skin color ya know), their ears are pointed and they also wear black n white gauges and other earrings of that color in their ears as well, that’s all for the jewelry however- they can also grow black and white wings (v feathery n fluffy wings), they also have a black based tail and then white fluff at the end (p much a dragon-esque looking tail), they seem to have a few scars here and there but nothing TOO major, it just appears to be from a few fights that must’ve ensued sometime in her life.

| Personality: Xovarkzis is an… Interesting being, it usually spends time by itself, tending to her own world and keeping everything in order, he’s usually VERY calm and collected in every situation possible since he’s seen it all pretty much, they’ve seen most outcomes when it comes to life, all the questions, the answers, etc- Xovarkzis is essentially almost an all knowing being, when it comes to fighting Xo has never been one to choose a side, they always stay out of matters that don’t concern them, it’s just… What happens a f t e r  a fight, especially if it gets… Messy… They do warn of the consequences of every action, every choice has it’s consequences and if someone thinks they are ABOVE consequences? They are a fool, even Xovarkzis to be as powerful and high ranking being as she is, even he’ll admit he is not free from consequence and he never will be... 

Xovarkzis finds mortals to be such… Interesting beings, Xo loved to study them whenever they could, always watching and observing from afar whatever it may be, whether their making decisions and choices or simply going about their life… Life ...Another subject as well as death, that Xo knows very well, Xo’s seen such much death in her centuries, at first she had questioned why death had to really exist, why did people have to be taken, taken away from their loved ones, taken away from the living, and so… Easily too... Ark had even gone as far to see if it could even s t o p death but hah, when they look back at that, such a f o o l i s h desire, death, albeit a tragedy by most… Can be beautiful in many ways, a lot fear death, Ark cannot blame them nor would she ever BUT, people tend to forget, there IS still beauty in death just as there is beauty in life.

Xovarkzis always tries to show any mortals that wind up before them that fact, it’s not a way to ease them into death, there is no such way to ease into death unfortunately, but there’s still the beauty, at the VERY least Xo can show them that before leading them to their final destination, Xo might be the god/goddess of life and death (as well as time which I’ll get to in a moment) but they cannot bring a person back from the dead, that would go against EVERYTHING they believe in and it’s impossible anyways, death is permanent, and even if there were a way, if they brought them back, that person would NEVER be the same… Well in THAT regard anyways BUT there is a… “Special Rule” If a person is taken before their time is up? ...There CAN be a pardon but it depends on the person really and the situation, and it still goes against what Xo believes in, in, well a way but… Sometimes an exception needs to be made, if their time was not up and it happened to be an… “Unfortunate” circumstance then they must continue on their journey.

Xo will even admit “Despite my beliefs… Your time has n o t run out… There is still so much you must do, so much to accomplish… So, just this once, I will send you back… But remember, life isn’t something you should take for granted, so many loved ones, whether it be a friend, family, or partner… You have someone who truly cares about you out there, so try and live life to the fullest every day possible… Remember, you w o n ‘ t get another chance like this, next time, it will be permanent I’m afraid…” now as for time, Xo holds time with a fondness… Time can be a blessing and a… Curse to some… Xo used to see time as a curse but they learned quickly, you must do what you can and will with the time you are given, never be afraid to get out there and do whatever it is you desire, time may seem so short… It may even feel as though time is plotting and working against you, but that is simply not true… It’s all about working with the time you are given, there is no such thing as more or less with time, and you had better make the most of the time you ARE given, for one day, your clock, as will everyone else’s, will run out.

Xo keeps the time in order (kinda like father time in a way), she CAN control it in a way, meaning it can stop and start time BUT there could only be one reason for stopping, starting, and speeding up time- And if that reason EVER comes to pass ...Whatever god/goddess/being you worship, you had better p r a y to them, pray as hard as you can… (Xo cannot reverse time however technically speaking, unless you wish to count them bringing a person back via unfortunate circumstances then I suppose in a way she can do that but still) Xo’s always been fascinated with how time worked to be honest, it’s interesting all the things time can make happen… Mortals, plants, etc- those grow up, worlds they age and sometimes become more progressive than others, and mostly people change with time, some anyways- Everything changes with time marching ahead, and that, to Xo is a wonderful thing…

That’s honestly the best I can sum them up?? There’s obvs gonna be more to them but for now this is good for personality basis (Xo despite being so blunt with things, Xo is a sweetheart who just wants the best for everyone, just wants peace, equality, and for people to live life to their fullest potential, Xo wants to see them succeed, failure? ...Failure is natural and should not be something to fear, you can always learn from the mistakes you make and next time you try something, then you’ll know what to avoid next time around, failure in a way should be treated as growth, as growing and learning because it is)

| Side Facts: Xo isn’t one for weapons BUT it does wield a black handled scythe that has a white blade attached to it (if you REALLY want, Xo can be technically called a Reaper even if he is much more than that, but if you wish to classify her as that then so be it), Ark’s world is also made up of black and white (literally if you look at the world, it’s split down the middle, black and white, nothing more nothing less, it’s world is actually considered a “Void” given that there isn’t anything really there, the only thing there in the split is Xo’s “throne” of course because it’s literally right in the center of the world it’s black and white as well, they have decorated it with various stones (like the Turritella, Snowflake, and Sodalite stones) there are a few others that are p much otherworldly, those stones can only be found in Xo’s world (I’ll leave those up to interpretation lmao), there ARE shelves lining the “room” however full of hourglasses, all of various types, various names are labelled on them.

Even Xo’s own, for even Xo, despite being a god/goddess n such, does have a due date himself, all the gods/goddesses do, one day their time will be up just like everyone else’s, granted… They D O live a LOT longer than mortals, animals, etc… Hence why their hourglasses are so big and almost infinite, but Xo knows, deep down, despite their infinite size, the sand will reach the bottom one day and then that will be it… Xo isn’t scared of death anymore, they haven’t been for MANY centuries now (they used to be afraid, they used to not understand why they had to even deal with the things they did, why they were the god/goddess they were, but one day, it finally understood… And that was that)

(If Xo and Thanatos (side note, i do realize that’s an actual god name but this one in particular i made is… woo b o y, just- yikes), but Xo and Thanatos would honestly be at each other’s throats, Xo has never liked picking a side in a fight, has never been one for fighting anyway- but Thanatos would disrupt EVERYTHING… That sick disgusting excuse for a god doesn’t even deserve his status, he treats death like a game for his entertainment, he’ll LITERALLY go out of his own way to make everyone suffer in any way he can, and Xo will not have any mockery and slander toward life nor death in this way so those two would c l a s h)

You would think Xo would live forever given their status and being the god they are BUT, it’s definitely not true! They can even be killed even though ...That’s LITERALLY near impossible, not ABSOLUTELY impossible but still, someone would have to get a REALLY lucky and fatal shot in, however even if they were to fade (if Xo dies, imma say this right now, there’ll be a spotlight on them and they’ll start fading away into little specs and drifting into the wind) the balance of life, death, and time will not implode, there are many other gods/goddesses that will be ready to take Ark’s place even if it may be sooner than expected, there’s always a chance after all…

Also fine, yeah- Unus Annus inspired me p heavily here BUT not ENTIRELY?? I just wanted to make another god/goddess for the world, Osmundus has never met Xo despite Xo sometimes visiting other worlds/Earth, and literally meeting his husband- speaking of… Arvish? ...Xo will forever remember what he did to everyone, to all the mortals, his own people even, everyone he hurt and killed- However, Xo holds no grudges, Xo will not haunt him, besides Vark knows deep down Arvish is tormented constantly by his own head, it’s a wonder the old beast hasn’t driven himself insane with all that guilt, Xo has told him before however “You cannot change the past, what’s done is done… However… ...You can make anew for yourself, it all depends on the choices you make in the remainder of your life, so if I were you, I would make the right choices as best I could” Arvish… Took Xo’s words to heart especially, and told Xo he’d try his best.

Also one thing they have to question now… ...Why is it that the mortals want them to say “Memento Mori” so much? Granted, they DO know what it means and even the words “Unus Annus” I mean she knows what BOTH words mean but it seems to hold such value and significance to the mortals...

[hb-pickle]

The Ritual (2017) x Frozen 2 (2019) Movie Comparison

This was just made for fun because both movies have a lot of overlapping visuals and ideas!

~•°☆The Ritual (2017 - Rated R - Horror) x Frozen 2 (2019 - PG - Family) Movie Comparison☆°•~

((Spoilers for both))

I'm doing this in order of scenes from The Ritual because we've all seen F2 and this will spice it up a bit.

Key:

~ Detail from The Ritual

- Detail from Frozen 2

Frohana = Group name for Elsa, Anna, Olaf, Kristoff, and Sven

Edit: I love when I change 1 tag and the entire post dies :)

1. The movie begins with someone close to the protagonist dying, causing them to feel immense guilt.

~ Friends Luke and Robert enter a convenience store to buy some vodka, and accidentally walk in on an active robbery. Robert is killed, while his Luke hid behind some shelves. Luke feels guilty, like he could've saved Robert if he was brave enough.

- Iduna and Agnarr die at sea while seeking answers for Elsa, causing her to feel responsible.

2. There is a brief bonding scene before said character dies.

~ When Luke wants to buy Vodka, but all his friends (Luke, Dom, Hutch and Phil) decline to go with him except Robert.

- Agnarr tells A&E a story while Iduna sings them All Is Found.

3. Important rock formation

~ Luke and friends build a small rock shrine to remember Robert.

- 4 stone pillars with the spirit symbols.

5. Friend tells the protagonist the death wasn't their fault.

~ Hutch

- Anna

6. Both groups chose to go on a dangerous journey through a forest. Most/a good portion of the film takes place in said forest.

~ On their hiking trip, Dom twist his ankle so they decide to go off trail and cut through some woods.

- All enter the Enchanted Forest looking for the voice.

7. Group bicker briefly about who should go on the journey.

~ Luke and Hutch want to leave Dom and Phil on the mountain to go get help. But they decide to stick together.

- Elsa wants to take Sven and leave the rest of the gang behind.

8.  Navigation system is iffy

~ Compass stops working

- The voice doesn't always respond to Elsa calling it.

9. Character named Gale/Gayle.

~ Dom's wife

- Wind spirit

10. Important encounters with deer

~ Group find a dead dear hung up in a tree. The Moder (the monster of this film) also resembles a deer (large elk like creature with antlers, hooves, etc).

- All the reindeer from the Northuldra style proposal. Honeymaren's baby reindeer. Sven. Reindeer cyclone at the end of the film.

11. Mysterious markings/symbols

~ Symbols scratched into trees.

- Spirit symbols/unreadable writing on the scroll found in A&I's ship

12. Protagonist is able to relive / see images of their past (happens several times).

~ Moder makes Luke relive being in the convenience store where Robert was killed. Either by giving him nightmares or by physically creating parts of the store (like shelves filled with Vodka).

- Elsa can use her magic to freeze moments in time, bring back memories, and interact with the memory ice statues in Ahtohallan.

13. Protagonist is marked or chosen by the diety.

~ Luke has 5 shallow holes punched into his chest by the Moder.

- Gale attacks Frohana but after seeing Elsa use her magic, spits everyone out except her.

14. Group members stress the importance of staying together.

~ People start getting nervous and angry after spooky stuff happens and Hutch reminds everyone that they need to stay together.

- Anna tells Elsa constantly that they need to stay together.

15. Group tries to split up again (right after the stay together reminder), but doesn't.

~ Dom's knee is getting worse and Phil is really stressed, so Hutch tells Luke he should go one without them and bring back help.

~ Elsa tries to follow Bruni North (without waiting for Anna or the rest).

16.  Group members gets removed involuntarily (several times).

~ Hutch (and eventually Phil and Dom) are killed by the Moder and hung in trees.

- Kristoff goes off for the proposal and accidentally gets left behind. Elsa sends Olaf&Anna away on the ice boat.

17. Group lose their supplies

~ When Hutch is taken, everyone frantically tries to save him (run away from their campsite) and get lost.

- Everyone gets out of the Kristoff's wagon and they leave it on the other side of the mist wall.

18. Hand holding for support. UwU

~ Luke holds Phil's hand when he's too tired and scared to climb on his own.

- E&A hold hands while they enter the forest.

19. Group encounters a society of people who have been living in the forest for a very long time and worship the diety/are spiritual (along with speaking another language). Once discovered, they attack the heros.

~ A small group of people who worship the Moder knock out Dom and Luke

- Northuldra attacks Frohana

20. Two native women play an important role in this encounter. One being the elderly leader of the group who gives the heros food and the other being a young woman who describes the diety they worship and explains more about what is going on.

~ Both characters unnamed. Elderly leader gives Luke water. Young woman explains that Luke was chosen and must kneel before Moder or die. They worship it because it "let's them live beyond natural life".

- Yelena and Honeymaren. Honey tells Elsa about Ahtohallan & the 5th spirit legend. Yelena tells them about how they only follow/listen to nature. Anna us shown drinking tea or something.

21. Natives also remove one character from the group.

~ Worshippers sacrifice Dom

- Ryder encourages Kristoff to leave

22. Worshippers settlement is set on fire.

~ Luke sets the cabins on fire.

- Bruni sets the forest on fire.

23. Forest is surrounded by magic (from the deity) that prevent people from leaving. In order to be set free, protagonist must prove their worth (instead of killing it).

~ Moder has the ability to change the forest physical layout in order to trap people (compass thing). Luke has to stand up to Moder and overcome his guilt about Robert's death to finally escape.

- Spirits create a dome around the Enchanted Forest. Elsa must tame the Nokk and the rest of the spirits to get to Ahtohallan.

24. Though the natives did not anger their diety (specifically the Natives were the ones under attack), it punishes them anyways.

~ Luke sets the settlement on fire and the Moder kills one of it's own worshippers.

- The Arendellians attack the Northuldra so the spirits trap their whole society in the forest and occasionally attack their camps.

End ♡

[rwbyvein]

Firen Lhain: Chapter 009: Yellow Streak

Note: This story runs parallel to Jaundice / Forever Fall, (it's easy to forget how short the early episodes were, to the point that all four basically add up to to the screen time of a regular half hour/22 minute episode).

* * *

Cardin held his mace above his head as he looked down at Jaune, when a buzzer sounded. Glynda walked out, "That's enough. Students, as you can see, Mr. Arc's aura has now dropped into the red. If this were tournament-style duel, this would indicate that Jaune is no longer fit for battle, and that the official may call the match. Mr. Arc, it's been weeks now. Please try to refer to your scroll during combat. Gauging your aura will help you decide when it is appropriate to attack, or when it is better to move to a more defensive strategy. We wouldn't want you to be gobbled up by a Beowulf, now would we?"

"Speak for yourself." Cardin said, as held his mace over his shoulder and turned to walk away.

* * *

RWBY walked into their dorm room. "Oh, man," Yang said excitedly, "I'm pumped about the festival."

"Too bad what happened to Jaune..." Ruby voiced.

"And... you just have to bring me down..." Yang said, and turned to look at her sister. "Look, no one likes what Cardin is doing to him, but does anyone have a plan to fix it?" At this, Ruby, Weiss, and Blake were silent. "That's what I thought."

"The only one that can help Jaune... is Jaune..." Blake voiced. "All we can do is be ready to pick up the pieces... It's not like he's the only one that is being discriminated against."

"But!," Ruby said proudly, "he's - our - friend!"

"Exactly." Yang stated.

"Indeed." Weiss added, and Yang looked at her questioningly. Weiss nervously looked away, her proud stance turning into a shy, uncertain one. "But what happens when the Vytal festival arrives, and he is still?.."

"He's going to get creamed." Yang said.

"Unless his team can save him." Blake added.

"He does have Pyrrha Nikos on his team." Weiss stated.

"This is Jaune we are talking about!" Ruby exclaimed.

"He's loveable..." Yang stated, "but that doesn't mean he can fight. And that's one thing a huntsman needs to be able to do..."

"He's great at watching..." Blake voiced, "Remember what he did in the Emerald Forest..."

"If I didn't have you girls," Yang uttered, "I'd love to have him on my team."

"Good thing... you do..." Blake said to her.

"I trust you girls more than anyone I've trusted in my life." Yang replied, "You can't tell me it wasn't real? That it's not real?"

"Our team is coming along swimmingly." Weiss added.

"But that includes Jaune, doesn't it?" Ruby asked.

"Of course it does, sis." Yang replied, "It wouldn't be the same without any of them."

"And the antlers are pretty cool." Ruby said, and Yang developed a wicked smile.

* * *

"Ms. Xiao Long." Ozpin said, as she walked into the stone cloister. "We have approved your request. Yang looked at the stone pillar in the centre of the cloister with a wicked grin. "As you expect, the stone pillar is yours to do with as you please."

Yang cracked her neck back and forth, and pulled down the strike-plates on her Ember Celica.

"I will leave you to your training." Ozpin said to her.

"Thank you, Professor." Yang replied.

Ozpin walked away, swinging his cane. "Ah, the energy of youth. That takes me back... quite a ways..."

* * *

Blake swung about the spires of Beacon at night, when she saw something on one of the rooftops.

* * *

Blake walked into RWBY's room with a confused look on her face. "What's up?" Yang asked, as Blake closed her door.

"I just saw Jaune... with Cardin?.." Blake asked.

"What?" Yang asked her.

"What?!" Ruby exclaimed from her hanging bed.

"But?.." Weiss nervously asked.

"Yeah," Yang said, "they don't exactly get along..."

"To put it mildly." Weiss added.

Ruby's head appeared out of her bed, "What do we do?"

"What do you mean?" Weiss asked.

"Well... I mean..." Ruby stammered.

"This isn't right." Yang added.

"I doubt Jaune is doing this out of benevolence." Weiss stated.

"More like violence." Yang said to her.

"We can't exactly do anything..." Blake stated, and the girls all looked at her, "without knowing for sure."

"But?.." Ruby asked, "Jaune?.."

"If he doesn't come to us for help..." Blake sadly said, "there's nothing we can do?.."

"How do you?.." Weiss asked her.

"Because maybe I had my own!.." Blake shouted, "I mean... just... let's just drop it. It's not exactly something I want to share, especially not with a Schnee."

Weiss gasped as Blake turned towards the door and stepped out.

"Yikes." Yang stated.

* * *

Blake sat on one of the parapets overlooking Beacon. "I... can't believe I said that..." she voiced, "but... she is a Schnee. A couple months ago, she was my greatest enemy. I can't believe... I trust her? How could I ever trust a Schnee?.."

* * *

"So?" Yang asked Weiss, "You do something to tick her off?"

"I am... uncertain?" Weiss asked. She sat on her bed, shoulders pulled in, looking into nothing.

* * *

Pyrrha forlornly looked out JNPR's window, into the dark of the night. Nora came up behind and gave her a hug. Pyrrha sighed. "I know..." Nora quietly said, before letting her go.

A quiet tension filled the room until Jaune finally returned. He quietly sat down to do homework. At which point the tension shifted from absence to unspoken.

* * *

Professor Oobleck walked into Ozpin's office. Well, for him it was a walk, for most it would be a run.

"Batholomew?" Ozpin asked.

"I have come on a situation of the gravest importance!" Oobleck said to him, and Ozpin just smiled a quiet smile at him. "Academic misconduct!"

"And, who is it?" Ozpin asked.

"Without getting into Mr. Arc's apparent lack of academic abilities as a huntsman, I required my two delinquent students to write an essay." Barthomolew then put two stapled stacks of paper on Ozpin's desk.

Ozpin picked up the essays, and quickly read through them. He then looked up, giving Bartholomew a knowing look.

"It is highly unlikely that they were written by two different individuals. If I had to guess, I'd say Mr. Winchester's essay lacks his daunting self-assurance. This is dreadful, truly dreadful."

Ozpin thought for a moment before speaking, "Do you have any proof."

"Unfortunately," Oobleck stated, "that is the one thing I do not have."

"This is not... the first time... that Mr. Winchester's name has come across my desk." Ozpin replied. "Until now, Mr. Arc's problem has been ability..." Ozpin drank from his coffee cup. "Do exactly as I expect you to do."

"I will keep detailed records on every scrap of evidence I've come across." Oobleck replied.

* * *

Jaune sat on his bed, breathing heavily, bathed in the morning light.

"You coming, Leader?" Nora asked him, and his eyes opened.

"Coming!"

* * *

Cardin cowered, his teammates fled, and the Ursa Major bore down upon him. There was only one man who could do something, and that was Jaune. He dove between the charging Ursa and Cardin, using his shield to brace against the swipe. It was the hardest thing he had ever had to do, but his aura held, his arm held, his feet held. The Ursa pushed down upon him, and he had to summon all of his strength... aura-amplified strength... to push it back. It was at that moment that it finally became clear to him. That was they RWBY and his team were able to move so quickly, jump so high, ricochet off trees like like an air hockey game. It was not just themselves, but their aura. It felt like his... substantial... energy was exploding inside himself. He managed to push the Ursa away, and strike at it with his sword.

He adopted a braced stance. His sword helped balance against his shield, his antlers balanced against one-another. The Usra bore down on him once again, dropping it's great paw. He once again braced it against his shield. This time he felt his aura diminished by the strike. This was what it felt like. This is what hte others already knew. He dug his left antler into the Ursa's paw and it recoiled. It did not last long as it bore down again, this time with it's left paw. Jaune stepped into the attack, trying to headbutt the Ursa.

He was not used to attacking with his antlers. Before he knew about aura he always thought they were too fragile to be used in any truly dangerous situations... and too deadly to use in any others. His antlers hit... somewhat... causing the Ursa to step back, looking at him. The Ursa was filled with it's iconic rage, but Jaune could feel his blood boiling as well. The Ursa charged at him, striking down once again, and once again Jaune blocked it. Once again he felt his aura ebb. He looked at the scroll placed on the back of his shield, and showed his aura was still mostly full. He swung at the Ursa. He hit, though not enough to deal significant damage. But, he had left himself open, and the Ursa swung in.

He felt his aura reinforce his breastplate. The breastplate took the brunt of the attack. His aura seemed to stretch the attack across the rest of his body. He stagged back, and then squared his head. He had to to balance his antlers and balance himself. The Ursa charged at him again. He once again braced for the attack, but felt something tug at his shield. His shield moved just enough to parry, knock the paw away as it bore down, leaving the Ursa completely defensiveless. Jaune's sword passed through the Ursa's neck, and the two separated in darkness. He breathed in deeply to recentre himself, noticing the Ursa begining to evaporate beside him. It seemed to take a lot longer than the Beowulves had. He should really be paying attention in Professor Port's lectures.

[atethewriting]

Peppermint - Chenle

Dear Diary,

4 days after the devastation, I think it’s time to move into the town that’s in the middle of the woods. I am hungry and cold, and something is watching me. And the smell of rotting flesh is starting to get to me. But, I’m scared. What if I starve before I get there? What if they don’t let me in? What if I can’t find somewhere to live? I should pack my things soon and get going. I’ll write later.

-Chenle

【＊】【＊】【＊】【＊】【＊】

Chenle walked over the bridge and over a patch of loose dirt with a small potato sack filled with his items, slung over his shoulder. White and red peppermint antlers stuck out of his head, along with a set of red-spotted, white deer ears. His snow-white hair making him look like the definition of winter. Which wasn’t entirely wrong, he loved the cold season. He used to live in the deepest part of the woods with his family. That is, before his family was slaughtered. For 4 days he lived surrounded by the rotting bodies, but let’s not get too into detail. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he reached the tall stone wall that surrounded the kingdom. About a mile East was a gate, so he made his way over there, knocking politely. He was greeted by a boy with dark brown hair, dark clothing, and a gloomy aura. Chenle smiled cheerfully.

“Hi! My parents are dead and I came here for shelter!” He said. It was a bit straightforward but it got the point across.

“Welcome to the fucking club...” The boy replied, letting the cheerful one in.

“What do you mean?” Chenle tilted his head curiously.

“4 days ago, half of the population here was slaughtered. How did you not hear about it?” He snapped back, making the deer boy jump.

“I-I’m sorry...I lived really far away...I’m sorry...”

The taller of the two leaned in and sniffed Chenle, growling softly and backing away.

“Just as I suspected. You’re from the deep woods. Never met someone so cheerful from there.”

“What does that have to do with anything? I’m Chenle! Nice to meet you!!”

“Have you watched your parents die while you could do nothing?”

“Yep!”

“What about witnessing over 50 dead bodies scattered around the ground in the matter of seconds?”

“Does 50 squirrels count?”

“No. Have you heard the screams of children as they try running away, only for them to be silenced with a sword to the head?”

“Well, you’re awfully negative!”

The boy was greeted by a harsh slap on the face for saying that, making him yelp out in pain. He sniffled, looking down at the ground.

“The last time we let someone back in from the deep woods it turned out to be a serial killer! What makes you think that we should trust you?”

“Oh, are you talking about Kun?! I know him! Can you bring me to him!!? Please!!”

The other growled in response, pointing to Kun, who was sitting on a bench in the town square, reading a book. Chenle thanked him and skipped off, spooking the Death Fairy from behind.

“Hi Kun!!!!!” He yelled, Kun turning around at that.

“Hey. Need something?”

“My parents died 4 days ago and I’m hungry!”

“How can you say that so cheerfully,” He laughed, “But okay. I’ll buy you some food or whatever...”

“Yay thank you!!”

“Just let me finish this chapter, though. I’m almost done.”

“Okay!” Chenle skipped off once more, going over to a Witch with a wooden left arm. She was sitting against a tree, reading as well. “Hi Go Won!”

“Oh, hello...what are you doing in town?” The Witch pondered, closing her book and standing up.

“My parents are dead!”

“Well that sucks, I’m sorry. When did that happen? Recently?”

“4 days ago!”

“Odd coincidence..that’s when I lost my arm.”

“In the big devastation thingy??? A very gloomy boy told me about it!!!” He bounced, spinning in a circle.

“Yes, correct. How are you always so cheerful?”

“I don’t know! Just am!”

Kun came up behind him and placed a hand on Chenle’s shoulder, making him flinch.

“I’m done, dumby.” Kun laughed softly.

“Okay!”

【＊】【＊】【＊】【＊】【＊】

Chenle stared at all of the food in front of him, his mouth watering. Of course, being a deer, he couldn’t handle meat of any kind. But, all of the options in front of him looked like heaven. Kun sat across from him in the pink-fabriced booth, laughing. The Death Fairy gave Chenle the go signal, and he immediately dug into the grilled Proves, a type of vegetable that tasted a lot like buttered popcorn. It was a golden-brown color, char around the onion-like rings. It was a type of root, grown only in the Eastern Woods.

“Yummy!” He said as he finished that meal, moving onto the next. Deer ate a lot, especially when hungry.

“So, what really brought you here?”

Chenle stopped for a moment, his mouth full.

“...the smell of rotting bodies became boring-“

“And I smell lies from that. What’s the real truth.”

“That was the truth, though.”

“I think there’s more to it, right?”

“Something was watching me,” Swallowing the food he had in his mouth, Chenle smiled.

“And you’re just okay with that?”

“As long as it wasn’t hurting me, yeah!”

“You’re so dumb sometimes, I swear..” The Fairy groaned, pinching his temples together.

“I am not! I am way smart!” Chenle protested.

“Who do you think was watching you?”

“I don’t know!! Some woman!”

“What did she look like?”

“She had green eyes! And black hair! She had a blue necklace on!” The boy visualized.

“Hm...Finish eating. We’ll take this problem to King Jungwoo..” Kun went into deep thinking, muting everything around him.

‘It could be a forest spirit...’ He thought.

Next thing they knew, Chenle was done and they were halfway towards the King’s castle. As they got closer, blue jewels started to float in the air, and pink stars followed them.

When they got into the main hall, Jungwoo was waiting expectantly. His pink jeweled crown atop his head, and a calm smile plastered onto his face. They approached the throne he was sitting on, bowing politely.

“We have something to report-“

“I know.” He simply replied, shocking them both. “And I have the answer, too. The Maiden Messanger. Daughter of the Maiden Dust, and a close cousin to Mother Death. She reports odd cases, and yours is quite spectacular.”

“But I’m not hiding anything? Why is mine spectacular?!” Chenle smiled, spinning in a happy circle.

“Because you have nothing to hide, Chenle. Mother Life tends to hide secrets, and so do her children. But you don’t hide any, and we’re trying to figure that out.”

“Woahhhh!!! I feel like I’m in a mystery novel!! I’ll be Sherlock!” He straightened his posture, pretending a smoking pipe was in his hand. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people do not know!”

“How the hell do you know who Sherlock Holmes is?” Kun asked, bewildered.

“I read it in a book I found!!”

“Ah.”

Jungwoo laughed, amused. Johnny held in his laugh, remaining as serious as possible.

Kun, however, was unamused. Who was The Maiden Dust? And who was Maiden Messanger? The King was definitely hiding something.

“Your majesty. I have a question.”

“Yes yes of course! Go ahead!” The King replied, calming down.

“You show no specific traits any of the mothers. In fact, you show a variety of traits from all of them. So, answer me this — Are you a child of all? Or, perhaps, are you a child of none? You’re also fairly knowledgeable, a trait in which is only heavily seen in Death’s and Time’s. Yet, you’re also publicly emotional and carefree, a trait only seen in Nature’s and Life’s. So, what exactly are you.”

The King froze, his skin going pale as he started to sweat. As he choked back a cry, Kun grinned.

“So? What’s your answer?”

“I-um...”

“Come on~ spit it out.”

“Johnny...Get them away.”

A blast of air was shot their way, sending them flying out of the castle. Chenle landed in a soft patch of grass right outside the door while Kun tumbled down the steep hill and back into town. Both were left stunned and confused.

Chenle ran down the hill, skipping and singing. He acted as if nothing was happening. Kun growled, thoughts bouncing around his mind like the screen he saw once in the woods. DVD Video, it said, and it’s changed colors every time it hit a corner. He stood up, angered.

“Chenle.” The Fairy exclaimed, catching the younger’s attention.

“Yessss?~”

“Don’t you think...it was a bit weird, how he avoided the question like that?”

“I mean, yeah. I thought it was kind of strange, if I’m being honest...”

“What do you think he’s hiding?”

“Whatever he is, I don’t think he’s one of us. If he was a child of MomMom’s then he wouldn’t react like that.”

“I was thinking that, too. I’ll ask Go Won later, right now we need to get you a place to settle in.”

“Okay!”

【＊】【＊】【＊】【＊】【＊】

Kun reached the end of the long row of houses, looking at a house that was painted with flowers. He quietly knocked, Chenle standing right behind him.

He knocked again, someone finally answering the door. An older woman with purple hair, her skin worn and green. She wore a puffy white dress and a soft smile. Kun’s ‘Mother’. The woman took a quick glance at her son, not recognizing him at first. He smiled, making her flinch and start to cry because she knew that smile. It was her son’s smile. The same son that had left over 15 years ago to pursue whatever crimes came to his mind. The same son that abandoned her. She shakily reached her hands out to cup his cheeks, and he started to tear up as well. Kun brought his old woman into a hug, leaning on her shoulder and sobbing.

“Mama...Mama I’m so sorry...”

“It’s okay, my dear. I forgive you. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“Well this is awfully emotional!” Chenle put his hands on his hips, completely ruining the mood. Kun’s Mother laughed, wiping her tears away.

“You’re right, it is. This isn’t how we should celebrate! Doyoung!!” She called, going into the house and bringing her other son outside, who pointed at Kun and tilted his head. They had both grown lots since they last saw each other, after all. Doyoung looked more like a prince now, his hair styled back and his face more well-built.

“Kun?” He spoke, just as confused as Kun was.

“Doyoung?” The other spoke back.

“Chenle!” Chenle yelled, excited as always.

“Mama!” The mother spoke, just as excited as Chenle.

Chenle and Mama proceeded to do a little dance, confusing the hell out of Doyoung and Kun.

“I-“ Doyoung spoke.

“It’s a Life thing...” Kun responded.

“Come in for tea, my dear. It’ll be fun.” She said while dancing.

“Okay miss!” He responded, also dancing.

They both went inside for tea.

Doyoung looked back at Kun, sighing.

“You look like such a thug, god. I’m taking you shopping later.”

“And you look like a rich boy who goes to a special private school so you have no say in my clothes.”

“Good point. Also you need a haircut.”

“I know.”

“Still afraid of birds?”

“Yeah kinda”

“You never change, let’s go in.” He patted Kun’s shoulder, going inside the small house, Kun following shortly after.

Chenle and Mama were seated at a wooden table, talking (quite loudly) while having a cup of tea. The youngest noticed something in the corner of his eye, but kept quiet about it. Mama noticed something, too. But, she mentioned it before anything bad happened.

“Something’s looking at you, Chenle. Stay there.” She calmly placed her teacup down and got up, heading over to a window that faced the table. She opened it and climbed out, going into the forest beyond and spooking a woman with black hair and green eyes, who was hiding behind a tree. Mama smiled, holding her hand out to help the girl up. She was around 15, it seemed.

“It’s okay, girl. No need to be scared. But why were you watching that boy?”

“M-m-m-mama instruc-instructed me t-to...” She stuttered, pushing her long hair behind her ear. Her eyes were droopy, nose small, lips full, and ears pointy. Her pitch black dress matched her hair, and the bright blue pendant she wore seemed to glow.

“What’s your name, dear?”

“M-m-m-Messanger....M-Maiden M-mess-Messanger...” The Maiden’s eyes filled with ink black tears, falling down her silver skin. Mama wiped them away, making Messanger flinch.

“What a beautiful name. You can call me Mama, or Mamama, or Mamamama. Whatever you like!”

“O-O-Okay...”

“Would you like to come in for some tea?”

“Y-yes please...” She choked out, knowing that she’ll probably get in trouble for it.

“Alright~”

【㊄】【㊄】【㊄】【㊄】【㊄】【㊄】

Messanger sat across from Chenle, shaking like a lost dog. Every time she tried to speak nothing would come out. Chenle accepted this by doing most of the talking, which comforted her in a way. The Maiden stared down at the tea she had been given, looking at her reflection. Her mother would definitely scold her for this, and she was scared of what she would do. The girl was whispering small calming spells under her breath, but none seemed to work.

“What are you saying?” Chenle smiled, excited.

“N-n-n-nothing...” Messanger replied, her voice like soft rain.

“I saw your lips moving?”

“I-it’s none o-o-of your b-business, boy!”

“Well, sorry...” He sighed, finishing his cup of tea.

Kun walked over and glared at the small girl.

“Answer me this, girl. Who is King Jungwoo to you?”

She flinched, shaking her head and starting to tear up.

“I-I’m sorry...p-please d-d-d-dont hurt me...” Messanger hid her head, bracing for impact.

“I’m not going to hurt you, just answer the question.”

“H-he’s my brother!”

[the-walking-memelords]

A2 - Chapter 2: Not So Out of The Woods

Chapter 1

Series is rated M

Word Count: 2427

Clementine brings a few of the school members to meet with Layla and her caravan, but suspicious activity in the woods drowns Clementine in a fear she hasn't felt in years.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

It had been hours since the sun abandoned them.

Clementine paced back and forth under the silver light of the moon mingling with the fire of the torches. What remained of her half-amputated leg strained against her prosthetic, the pain making her limp more noticeable.

Where the fuck are they?

“They’ll be back anytime now, hun.” Ruby said from a nearby picnic table, cardigan pulled tight around her to fight off the night chill. Her voice was optimistic, but her foot tapped rapidly in worry.

The young woman carefully ran her fingers over the thin braids along the right side of her head, the rest of her hair hanging loose on her left. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of Louis’ gentle touch after he finally convinced her to let him do her hair.

But pretending he was there only drew attention to the fact that he wasn’t, and neither was AJ. After losing him not once, but twice, Clementine begged that third time’s the charm wouldn't mean losing him forever.

Calm down you’re overthinking this.

Louis wouldn’t let anything happen to AJ, and Aasim was probably the smartest one of them all. He knew how to keep them out of danger.

Clementine had run out of things to keep herself busy as the time ticked on, far beyond the point they were supposed to return. The bowls were washed, patrols were done, the watchtower was deemed structurally sound. Nothing left to do but wait as the night grew colder.

“See anything?” She called up to the two standing on the watchtower.

“Not much.” Violet joked, trying to be lighthearted in the absence of their class-clown. Her vision was mostly gone, completely blind in her right eye, but she still knew a walker when she saw one.

She wore her short icy blonde hair in a half ponytail, keeping the strands out of her peripheral vision. A black patch covered her dead eye, tied in a messy knot behind her head. Tennessee convinced her to let him decorate it, painting the flower she was named after with impressive detail.

“It’s too dark to see very far.” Tennesee pointed out.

“They’ll signal when they’re close.”

Tenn was now about the age Clementine was when she first came to the school. Even though he had essentially grown up, he was still that sweet and artistic boy she had met. The only thing that majorly changed about his personality was he had taken to covering the scars on the side of his head. The navy blue beanie was pulled down over the tops of his ears, obscuring most of the burn marks. Ever since they started interacting with other groups, the people would stare and whisper. The boy found it annoying enough to hide his scars. Violet was pissed enough that she wanted to fight a few of them, and she would have if he hadn’t convinced her to drop it. Though it was not so much as she dropped it as she grumbled along with the boy’s wishes and gave death-glares to anyone whose eyes lingered too long.

A long whistle came from beyond the gate, a sound that started low then quickly swooped high. Both Ruby and Clem bolted from their places towards the gate to see three innocently-smiling faces.

“I can explain-” Louis didn’t get a chance to lead with that explanation before Clementine wrapped her arms tightly around both him and AJ. Aasim smiled and playfully rolled his eyes before wrapping an arm around Ruby and giving them some space, mentally preparing for the lecture he was about to get.

“What the hell took you so long?” She bit back tears of both relief and frustration.

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that.” Louis searched for a way to dig himself out of this hole.

“We were tracking a deer and went a little too far.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t find it?”

“I did.” The boy piped up.

“I shot it but it ran away into a bunch of walkers”

“Shit.” Clementine swore.

“We need to be more careful if walkers are starting to group up like that again. That’s how herds form.”

“We should see if there’s anything we can salvage before we head to the meetup point.” Louis decided.

“Bones, antlers, parts of the hide if it isn’t too chewed up. Anything we could trade with. Plus if we run into the smelly patrol that ruined our hunt, we could take ‘em out before their gang gets too big.”

“Sounds like a decent plan.” Clem agreed.

“We should leave a little earlier if we’re gonna find that deer.”

As the excitement died down a wave of exhaustion and drowsiness fell over the group and they began heading back to the dormitories. Clementine nodded to Louis and AJ as she turned to follow the Vi and Tenn, only taking a few steps before her legs were lifted out from under her. The young woman let out a gasped yelp as she looked up to see Louis smiling down at her as he carried her bridal style.

“What the hell are you doing?” Clem asked as her cheeks became warm.

“You only limp like that when your leg hurts.” He said plainly as he continued to carry her towards their room with no intention of putting her down until they arrived.

“Why are you like this.” She groaned but was unable to stop the curl of her smile

“‘Cause I love you.” Louis replied with a quick yet exaggerated kiss to her forehead.

---

The next morning the three of them set out along with Aasim, Mitch, and Brody. Waving goodbye to those who stayed to watch the school and memorizing their requests once they met up with the caravan.

“You think Layla picked up some new weapons this round?” Mitch asked with a devious smile.

“Oh, hush.” Brody scolded him, pulling her braid over her shoulder.

“Don’t you have enough knives?”

“You can never have enough knives.” The brunet smiled as he draped his arm around the short girl’s shoulder.

“Meds and ammo are top priority.” Clementine reminded, machete clutched tight in her hand as she kept an eye out for any movement among the trees.

“We need to start saving for winter. Hope you all brushed up on your haggling skills.”

They followed AJ’s lead deep into the woods until they finally came upon the clearing from the night before. The area was surprisingly devoid of walkers. The grasshoppers that fled each of their steps and the buzzing flies were the only things moving in this field.

“There it is.” AJ said with a tinge of disgust at what the animal looked like now. It wasn’t much more than a skeleton. The white of bone was more prominent than even the red of the blood, most of the meat and entrails stripped away making it nearly unrecognizable from the animal he had killed.

“Not quite the feeding frenzy I expected.” Louis joked. 

“They made quick work of this fella.”

Aasim moved in closer to take a look with his by now expert hunter’s eyes. He ran his hand over a few of the ribs, feeling the texture of the bone for any imperfections.

“A few scratches but no breaks or teeth marks.” He confirmed with a mildly impressed expression.

“These will be good material for crafting.”

Clementine knelt carefully in the blood-soaked grass, prodding the carcass with her knife to examine its insides. She scrunched her nose at the vile smell, batting away the swarm of flies to investigate what she suspected from afar.

“Look at this one.” Clem beckoned him to where her blade pointed, using it to push back a piece of meat to fully show the laceration embedded into one of its ribs. It was smooth and deep against the otherwise nearly immaculate bone.

“Does that look like a knife mark to you?”

“Could be.” Aasim speculated.

“Not sure what anyone would want from a mostly-eaten deer carcass if they weren’t after the same things we are.”

“What if it wasn’t mostly-eaten when they found it.” Clementine bit her lip at the possibility.

“I mean look at it, does it look like any walker food you’ve ever seen?”

“What are you saying?” Mitch’s eyes narrowed quizzically as he defensively scanned the area around them.

“This animal wasn’t mauled, it was dressed.”

Her words hung heavy in the open clearing. They were used to interacting with others at this point. Layla’s caravan seemed to have new members every time she passed through telling tales of the other communities triumphs and woes alike. Despite all of this, no good soul could erase that happened five years ago, and the wooden replacement for her limb was a constant reminder.

“You think there’s someone sneakin’ around out here?” Brody said with a tone of worry. It was uncommon for her to come to trade meets and Clementine didn’t want something like this to put her off the idea.

“Someone who knows how to move walkers?” Louis added, not helping the red head’s anxiety.

“Let’s take what we came here for and head to the meetup spot” The young woman decided, accepting Louis’ hand to help her off the ground.

“We’re pretty far from the school. Whoever did this may never find us and if they do we’ll handle it.”

Something isn’t right here...

A body crashed loudly through the bushes at the edge of the clearing. The walker snarled through the cloth around its face as it reached for Mitch first. The freckled man smirked as he unsheathed one of his favourites knives from his belt. It had a wide steel blade that was serrated and slightly curved. He took his weapon and effortlessly fell the walker in one quick stab. 

“It’s just like the others.” AJ said in almost a whisper.

“What?” Clementine turned to see the boy with a puzzled expression across his face.

“I killed two walkers yesterday and they both had that.” 

Clementine could now see what he was talking about. The fabric tied over the walker’s face had a symbol of fangs painted over it. Clementine stared frozen at the symbol, a faint memory tugging at her brain. It sent a chill up her spine as adrenalin began to charge her system. It felt like something her mind wanted desperately to forget, but those fangs sunk in deep until she couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.

Get out of my head!

“What’s wrong?” Louis’ fingers intertwined with her own.

“We need to leave.” She said in a hoarse whisper, barely audible to herself over the sound of her rapidly beating heart.

Louis squeezed her hand and nodded. He knew Clem would explain later, no longer being the type to keep many secrets from him. Some fragments of her memory were best left unspoken, but she could no longer bring herself to straight-up lie. The young woman nodded in agreement and leaned into him slightly as she continued to plead internally to not have a panic attack right there. “They’re gone.” AJ said as he searched the field. “I killed two just like that one but now they’re gone.” The only walkers among them were the one that mitch had just killed and another one with a bullet hole between its eyes. Dead walkers didn’t just get back up and walk away.

“There’s more of them.” Clementine said as she and the others joined him with weapons drawn. 

Footsteps moved through the trees but in the wrong direction, moving farther away and gaining speed.

That isn’t a walker.

“Hey!” Clementine shouted as she chased down the unknown onlooker, ignoring the shouts from those behind her.

Leaves rained down all around them as Clementine followed the flash of blonde hair that weaved between the trees threatening to outpace her as her prosthetic slowed her down considerably. Clementine called to the girl the whole way, but she was unrelenting in her escape attempt.

What had she seen?

What did she know?

This wasn’t something she could let go. Not with everything she’d built. If her past was sneaking up behind her to slit her throat she wanted to be ready to right back. 

Lady Luck must have had mercy on her at that moment as her target was sent sprawling to the ground with a cry, her ankle catching on a thick root. The girl crawled towards a boulder, whipping around and brandishing a small blade just as Clementine caught up.

“W-Why were you watching us? Who… Who are you?” Clementine choked out her questions as she tried to catch her breath.

The girl glared back through her wild straw-coloured hair with a snarl on her lips. The sight of her closer resembled a wild animal than what appeared to be a teenage girl. 

“Get away from me.” She hissed, one hand clutching her knife and the other around her ankle.

“Who are you with?” Clementine hesitantly took a few steps forward.

The girl uses the bolder to help her stand and her bared teeth shape into a wicked smile. Clementine continues her failing interrogation but now her hand is slowly drifting to the sheath on the back of her belt. 

She looks about ready to slit my throat.

Clementine pulled her machete out of her sheath as she asked one final question.

“What do you know about the fangs?”

“Clementine!” Louis yelled from somewhere not too far back.

The distraction was just enough for Clem to lose focus when the girl charged with a crazed scream. She slashed at Clem with her knife, only managing a shallow but long gash from her collar bone across her shoulder as she jumped back. The girl didn’t go for a second attack, booking it past her into the forest just as Clementine’s group found her.

“Don't!” She yelled not to the fleeing girl but to her friends as they tried to go after her.

“She’s fucking feral.”

Clementine pressed the collar of her now torn shirt against the stinging cut, the already red fabric staining darker with the droplets of blood that trickled out.

“You got hurt!” AJ exclaimed when he saw her hand tightly pressed to her skin

“I’m okay.” She tried to smile reassuringly, but it quickly fell flat.

“You sure?” Louis moved her hand to take a closer look, huffing at the injury.

Clementine wanted nothing more than to go back to the school. Back to her home. But unfortunately, they still had work to do.

“Let’s just find the caravan.”

[winterwastes]

about.

{I realized that I hadn’t done one of these yet, so here it is, for anyone unfamiliar; under the cut in case it gets very long.}

Name(s): The Beast; The Death of Hope, Lord of the Wastes Age: Unknown. Has existed since the very first sapling sprouted in the cold earth of what would one day be the Winter Wilds. Species: (???) Unknown. Bipedal and humanoid in appearance, but made entirely out of dead, frozen wood. Not precisely alive. --- --- --- The Beast is a creature that resides in the Unknown, deep within his frozen forest territory; he cannot remember when he came to be, or how, or why, and he has never pondered about it. He is extremely driven and extremely clever, and he is a persistence predator; he stalks and disorients his prey of choice (human beings) from the darkness between the trees, running them ragged, and uses his labyrinthine woods to keep that prey lost and bereft of hope until they are the ripest for the picking. When the Beast feeds, it is not in a physical manner. He carries upon him, at all times, an old oil lantern wrought of iron, and inside this Dark Lantern burns a strange empty light-- this light is not a true flame, but is, in fact, his very soul. His soul can only be kept burning with the life force of others, and should his lantern ever go out, the Beast would instantly perish. Human beings who die in his forest (after giving up their last scraps of Hope-- this part is very important, and is the reason for what seems to be his very cruel nature) transform and grow into Edelwood trees-- gnarled, blackened trees with twisted faces formed in their bark, oozing with dark oil-- and these Edelwood trees alone are what sustain the Beast, and have done so since time immemorial. The Edelwood trees produce a thick black oil beneath their bark, which can be either tapped like sap or released through grinding in a mill; this oil is the very essence of those poor lost souls, and it must be poured into the Lantern so that those souls can become him, feeding his flame and keeping it lit. --- --- --- The Beast, in appearance, is a being who stands at about seven feet tall and resembles a cross between a human silhouette and a stag deer. He is always cloaked in an artificial darkness, preventing his true form from being seen in any detail, and he wears a thick, heavy fur around his neck and shoulders. He has an immense pair of antlers growing from his head, each roughly the length of his entire torso, and these “antlers” are actually, in fact, tree branches, which can repair and regrow themselves if they should ever become damaged. His eyes are uniformly round and white, and they glow with a hollow light that doesn’t actually illuminate anything beyond their own surface. His hands appear humanoid, and his legs are long and very thin, ending in narrow shapeless feet. He is cold and no-nonsense in temperament, generally existing in a single-minded drive to keep his Lantern fed and lit. He does possess the capability to speak in every language known to humankind, and he is, in fact, also a very accomplished singer, favoring an operatic style in a very deep baritone. He uses his songs to disorient and alarm his prey, and you are actually much more likely to hear him sing than you are to ever actually hear him talk. His Woods are an extension of himself; both the trees themselves as well as the snow, ice, and very ground, and he can create illusions whilst his prey is within the boundaries of the Woods to keep them lost-- such as repeating scenery, or their own footprints, or a false sun, or the distant voice of a loved one. He shows only a very basic understanding of human morality, and does not appear to feel any remorse for the things he does in order to feed.

[eottoghe]

Little Boxes - Nine

A Jeonghceol Domestic AU where they live in suburbia with their six year old son Chan. Jeonghan is an active member of the PTA, a soccer dad and chauffeur, and a supportive parent all around. His loving husband cares deeply for his passions and will follow him to the end of the world if it keeps him and his family happy. Follow their journey as they get caught up in fun and zany adventures when they fall outside of the guide lines of your average neighbor. Don’t really know where I’m going with this, but I want to see how many different domestic prompts I can get out of this AU before I run out of steam.

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

"Can you please put the sweater back on?" Jeonghan is wrestling with the laces of his new Doc Martens (all the cool kids are wearing them nowadays) all while policing Chan from a distance. The kid is less than subtle about his distaste for the article of clothing by the way he carelessly tosses it aside. It'd been 30 minutes of back and forth banter between the two. It was the great debate over what Chan was most “comfortable” in. It was clear who held the power. And just in case it wasn’t… it’s Chan.

Jeonghan made a point to purchase outfits that had similar color schemes or designs in hopes that they would get the perfect picturesque family photos during their outings. Carefully, he would scan the stores for hours to find the clothes that closely resembled each other in his, Seungcheol’s and Chan’s sizes. It was no easy feat so he’d appreciate it if Chan appreciated his effort. The six-year-old doesn’t understand it now, but he’ll thank him later. Jeonghan is sure.

Jeonghan had been sorting through several sweaters to match their “sweater weather” theme for the night, but Chan had a complaint with every. single. one. This one's too tight. This one's too long. I hate the color green. 

Which he totally did not, Jeonghan might add.

He finally decided to put his foot down and was dead set on this candy-apple red, knitted sweater trio he’d found earlier this season. He told Chan there were no more butts on this one and left to get ready himself. But, each time Jeonghan would force the damned garment over his head, he'd turn around not five minutes later to see Chan in nothing but his dark washed jeans, undershirt and snowman socks.

"I don't wanna!" Chan whines before giving the discarded sweater a little kick. Jeonghan inhales a deep, murder-doesn't-look-good-on-a-resume breath and just barely bites back the annoyance in his voice.

"And why not?"

As if it's the most obvious thing in the world, a true fact only dummies wouldn't know, Chan fusses, "Because it's itchy!"

Seungcheol takes that as his cue and stands up from the couch where he'd been tapping his foot in boredom. His back grew stiff due to his hunched over shoulders. The amount of time it took the two to get ready on average was rivaled by no other. But today was exceptionally long. Of course, if he ever told his husband that, Jeonghan would have his head so instead, he quietly keeps to himself.

That is, until the 6th time Chan stripped. It was really getting old.

"You said that about the last three." Seungcheol interjected.

Chan, standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest, pouts at his dad, but Seungcheol isn't deterred. "Well your dad and I are going to be matching. You don't want to feel left out do you?" Chan shakes his head "no" even if you can still see the defiance burning in his eyes. It's actually quite adorable when you don't consider the fact that they're 10 minutes behind on top of a 15-minute drive without traffic. 

"So will you please put back on the red sweater?" After a long staring match, Seungcheol tacked on, "If not for me, do it for your tummy! They'll have hot chocolate and I'll let you get as many marshmallows as you want."

That does the trick well enough as Chan grabs the sad lump of knitted cotton from the floor. His arm gets stuck in the neck hole while his neck gets stuck in the arm hole, but that's more progress than they've had all night. Jeonghan sighs in relief. Of course, Seungcheol could have helped earlier when he noticed Jeonghan couldn’t get ready because of the attention given to Chan, but he won’t ruin the mood with that detail.

When they're all finally dressed and Chan balances the reindeer antler headband on his head, they're off to the car, fighting their way through the chilly winter.

Wrapped in a plush, snowy white blanket, Chan is nestled in between his parents. The tour hasn't officially begun, yet Chan already seems like he's about to burst with excitement. The trolley they’re in has glossy wooden benches lined down the middle, while the sides serve as walkways. The old-fashioned style of the trolley has golden accents making Chan think it’s fancier than it really is. But the best part is that they’ve lined the bus with Christmas lights and have already began playing festive music. If he wasn’t in the mood for it before, he surely is now.

They’re still sitting at the port, waiting for people to file in. They picked this one in particular because of the complimentary heated blankets and snacks. Both Jeonghan and Seungcheol knew Chan would be standing up out of his seat and venturing around once they got going, but for now, it’s nice to just share the space.

It’s funny how Jeonghan had been the one to suggest the Christmas lights tour. Seungcheol knows from personal experience that Jeonghan and the cold don’t mix. Yet there he is, risking his comfort to ride around in an open window, old fashioned bus on this frigid winter night. He mentioned seeing it in the movies one night and apparently couldn’t shake the idea from his head. Snuggling up against the ones you love, drinking hot chocolate all while seeing the pretty Christmas lights twinkling around you. It imprinted itself on his mind, convincing him from the beginning that he wanted that experience. Even when a soft breeze sweeps by bringing shivers, the bubbly atmosphere makes it all seem much warmer.

There are heaters by their feet and above their heads so they aren’t consumed by the overwhelming cold, but when they’re in a vehicle with no windows, there’s only so much they can do.

Seungcheol wants to reach out and boop his husband's red nose. Maybe make a joke about how he looks like Rudolph. Maybe tease him for the slight tremble of his goose bumped skin. Instead, he brings his arm around his shoulders, pulling both Jeonghan and Chan closer. The move makes the youngest of their trio giggle with his body firmly trapped in between the two. Chan’s hyper feet kick as he complains, “Daddy is squishing me!”. A choir of angels singing truly can’t compare to his son’s laugh. It’s the most refreshing and healing sound and Seungcheol is so grateful to have it in his life. He always gets so soft around the two when they look so happy.

Soon after, the trolley began its journey, slowly weaving through rows of lights strung up in elaborate patterns.

It was dark, sure, but their family shined radiantly under the glow of reds and greens. Chan, as expected, got up from his seat and climbed dutifully into Seungcheol’s lap. The view seemed much better to him that way. And to top it off, “Santa Tell Me” played through the trolley’s speakers. It had somehow found its way into the little one’s heart. Jeonghan should be used to it, but it still caught him off guard every time Chan began singing full lyrics in English. Hell, the boy probably knew more of it than he did. And even when Frozen’s “Let it Go” came on, Seungcheol joined in to harmonize with the overjoyed kid in his lap. Jeonghan made sure to take a video of the two while they were distracted. His husband was bold and loud when he wanted to be, but if he knew Jeonghan was recording, he’d get all shy in an instant.

The staff came around with thick paper cups, steam gently rising from their warmth. Reluctantly, Jeonghan removed his arms from the comfort of his blanket cocoon to take one for Chan and one for himself. Before Jeonghan could give him the “behave” glare, Chan was already asking if he could have extra marshmallows. Seungcheol had basically promised him he could get however many he wanted and Chan was never one to forget. The kind woman handing them out decided to give him a separate cup of marshmallows to go along with his hot chocolate because “he’s just too precious!”. Chan was simply irresistible and even strangers were trapped under his charm. Jeonghan definitely thinks he gets it from Seungcheol.

By the end of the night, their hands were numb and their noses frosted. But Jeonghan still needed his family photo!

They gathered in front of the Christmas tree, back at the trolley’s main station. Jeonghan grabbed one of the passersby and asked if they could take a quick picture for them. They posed for the camera, arms slung around each other and chattering teeth smiling wide. In the end, they decided to keep their coats on so it truly didn’t matter that they took time matching anyway, but the idea of it was unifying enough.

Years from now when Jeonghan looks back at these pictures, he’ll be able to recall the happiness bubbling from his tummy as the hot chocolate, knitted sweaters, and love from his family keeps him warm.

~~

If baby Chan had a birthday party, what would the theme be?

I’m a day or so late. I’d been planning this for a month, but it still took me forever to get it out and it’s incredibly short. Don’t hate me please! Thank you for reading and enjoy some sweet Christmas fluff. Whether you celebrate or not, I hope the day was still great for you. 

Next Chapter

[escapeesanonymous-blog]

How Accurate Are Escape Rooms Escape Rooms?

To Whom It May Concern:

My name is anonymous, and today I want to talk about the new movie Escape Room.  With a current rating of 52% on Rotten Tomatoes I’m not here to review the movie in that light.  Personally I enjoyed it!  My question going into the theater was simple.

“Are the rooms shown good examples of escape rooms?”  

With this movie potentially being the first example a new player is going to think about now I feel it’s important to look at it critically.  What’s accurate to the game, and what’s not even close.  On that note let’s start digging.  Also, potential spoilers ahead!!

To start things off, let’s cover the things that are done wrong.  The biggest error is that as the game goes on the movie loses it’s cooperative vibe, and becomes more “survival of the fittest.”  This is especially seen in the 5th room where 2 of the players end up fighting over the one antidote.  To be clear, escape rooms are co-op style games, where everyone wins or everyone loses.  Even if the room has an elimination mechanic it then becomes if one person wins all win. The other part is that not all rooms end in death!  The amount of stories found in escape rooms are almost limitless.  And besides, the actual death is in the movies just for the action.  Now let’s get to what they do right! 

OH ONE MORE THING!  If I see you breaking cameras in the rooms like the main character did I will HUNT YOU DOWN AND….*inhale*  you know what?  Just don’t do it ok?

Escape Room Basics

In order there are six rooms in the movie.  Last chance for deep spoilers….

1.      The waiting room seen in previews

2.      The ice room, which is another popular preview clip

3.      The upside down room, which is the last of the preview clips

4.      The poison room where our GAME BREAKER GOES OFF THE RAILS!!

5.      The antidote room which I’m going to pretty much ignore

6.      The parlor room 

All the rooms provided you with three of the key elements to an escape room.  A timed event, based on challenges of puzzles and logic, with a consequence if you are unable to finish in time.  I could do examples for each, but to save time let’s focus on one example.

In the parlor room our player had to solve riddles in order to get the proper combination to open a door. If he didn’t do it in time he would have been crushed alive by the room.  To clarify for those who are in the boat of “there was no clock” know that there was.  Not all timers are in plain sight, and in this case the timer was the wall sliding ever closer.

Good Starting Puzzles

It’s clear that the rooms were difficult, but one big thing to consider is that the first puzzle was easily accessible, and meant to be solved quickly.  Take example our ice room.  Upon arrival they had to solve a seven letter lock (yes not all locks are numbers).  After a few educated guesses based on one of the clues, one of the players has a…..delightful flashback and knows that the answer.  The kicker though is that even if he wasn’t there given enough time the team would have figured it out.  How? Let me share with you the clues found in the room, and see if you can figure it out.  Ready?

Up above the fireplace was a sign that said, “You’ll go down in history.”

The setting was a cabin, and on one was 9 sets of reindeer antlers.

On the plaques for each set of antlers was a letter.  The letters were D, D, P, V, C, C, D, B, R

You figured it out? The answer was Rudolph.  One common rule in escape rooms is that the entire game should be able to be solved in 60 minutes or less, by the average Joe. Where do the failures come in? When we start pulling something from nothing, and look at the wrong details.  Using only the first clue the team was trying to use seven letter presidents for crying out loud!  On another note, whatever you need, so that you can escape is normally already provided for you in the room.  Which leads to my only negative about the ice room.  If one challenge is going to be to get a key out of a block of ice, you should provide them with a tool or means to do so.  Throw in one more puzzle, or task to provide them with a means of chipping ice, and it would’ve been perfect…….for an entertaining deathtrap.

Style of Game Play

The last thing I want to cover is the overall execution of the rooms.  When it comes to how the rooms tic they all hit the right notes. One task leading to the next, until you successfully escape.  This covers how most escape rooms are designed.  It is known as a linear format.  The best example of this would be the parlor room, second being the waiting room.  The remaining rooms follow the opposite approach.  NON linear.  In this case it is clear where the finish line is, but how to get there isn’t as clear until all the pieces come together.  In the upside down room it was clear that they needed to get through a door, but needed a nob.  They eventually found a safe, but no code.  One found a slide puzzle, but the answer wasn’t clear.  You get the idea.  Once all the pieces came into place the room could be successfully completed. Of course it is also safe to say that nonlinear rooms are normally some of the toughest. Mainly because it requires a little bit more knowledge about how an escape room tics in order to be successful.

In conclusion if I were to have to explain what an escape room is I would happily show someone one of these rooms , as a brief tutorial.  They cover all of the important points, and are very engaging. The one that hits all the right points to me?  Hands down the waiting room.  Clearly a linear room, a smooth progression from idea to idea, with clues and props that fit the environment.  I must go now.  I need to prepare for an exciting week full of opportunities.  You’ll hear from me soon though.

Sincerely,

Anonymous

[ace-malarky]

10 Question Tag

tagged by @zmlorenz for this one!

1. How do you title your WIPs?

I tend to go by like... the title of the character (see Mute Herald, Ryngern Shifter, Pirate’s Dancer, Sacrifice, SoulSinger, The Teacher, Wyvern Queen) as the most common way. Sometimes they’re super basic, does-what-it-says-on-the-tin style (like The Dragon Stand, The End of Magic, Finish What We Started, WereCreature Chronicles) and sometimes it’s like... something important to the central theme? Expect to Fly, Forget to Fall, and So the Bran Rhi Sings fall under that I guess.

2. Do you tend to come up with the plot first, or the characters first?

 It varies wildly? Recently it’s been more characters first and the plot makes sense because obviously that’s what they’re going to go fuck up.

Sometimes the plot comes and the characters walk in and go “hey yo that’s my life you’re fucking up what the heck”

3. Preferred writing soundtrack?

 I tend to roll with any soundtrack going tbh but I’ll just run through spotify or my music library and see what I’m feeling at the moment. Sometimes words work, sometimes they’re a horrific distraction

4. How specific are the appearances of your characters in your head?

Sometimes they’re more of a vague feeling - I know, for instance, that Red Scarlet wears deer antlers and a wolf skin cloak (in the style of Mononoke) but I have no idea what her face looks like.

Sometimes I can pin them down to actors and that helps to riff off them and change a few basic details

Mostly I’ve got nothing but clothing styles and mannerisms

5. What’s your favourite trope to use?

I am a sucker for found family. Almost all the stories got it lmao

6. Did you do NaNoWriMo this year? Why or why not?

 I did! I tend to use it as a sort of... boost to finish things off, because I have a habit of starting small things and then just losing interest. It keeps me from getting stuck on one thing for a month, too

7. How do you handle the dreaded writer’s block?

badly lmao

 I go for walks and ignore stuff and read books and complain at someone until I’ve worked around what I’m blocked on

8. Where do your characters fit in the cinnamon roll meme?

Ok let’s just do this for some of Expect to Fly

looks like a cinnamon roll, is actually a cinnamon roll; Katie, Saich, Ifernia, Zelt

looks like a cinnamon roll, will kill; Miroth, Laestre

looks like they could kill, actually a cinnamon roll; Billy, Urart, Mark

looks like they could kill, will actually kill; Kari, Sascha, Merphis

sinnamon roll; Erith, Ash

Aaaaand Vechtir is being awkward and not really fitting anywhere :/

9. What do you wish you’d see more of in stories?

hm maaaan idk like I guess I’d like more... breathing spaces in adventures ‘n’ high stakes stuff? Like just - moments where the characters can stop and work through everything and chill and recentre themselves rather than having to continually rush on and not give themselves the proper time to kick back? 

10. Aside from writing, what’s your favourite way to pass the time?

 Currently I am getting through so many books and it’s great

And ok I realise I should tag people but I also can’t think of questions so like... idk, steal these ones they’re pretty neat

@taz-writes, @baguettewriting, @power-of-ages-writeblr