#it's certainly a look of all time. i support them. for this look. giant head why not! why not

[front-facing-pokemon]

[mythicmanuscripts]

What about sub!aemond and his giant praise kink? I love how you write him

Okay yup, yeah absolutely I can. You are very very correct this must be discussed.

While this is mostly just very soft and fluffy, there are definitely some sexual undertones and implied sub!Aemond so bare that in mind before venturing below the cut :))

It’s a shock to absolutely no one that demons doesn’t receive much praise, and that he certainly doesn’t receive any real meaningful praise and approval.

When he first gets this from you, he doesn’t really know what to do with himself? He understands why you praise him if he does something for you, and it makes him blush and struggle to hide his smile because he knows he’s been good. But, when you praise him and he hadn’t done something? When you praise him just for existing? He has no idea what to do. He’s not used to approval coming without any prerequisites.

You notice this pretty quickly, in fact you notice it before you even wed him. You see the way his eyes widen when you acknowledge him, how he has to look away when you first complemented his knowledge of Targaryen histories.

After the wedding, you decide to investigate this side of your new husband more. You kept things polite and proper during the wedding, both for your own reputation and because Aemond looked so award that you feared he may gently just shatter into a million pieces if you pushed him at all.

You don’t consummate the marriage that night. You intended to, but Aemond is so stiff, so clearly uncertain and scared. You sat with him on the bed and asked him to tell you about the Targaryen histories again. He smiled as he spoke, and he blushed every time you complimented him. As much as he was embarrassed by his reactions, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the room because this was much too good to pass up.

You two keep this tentative dance for a while. Aemond is very clearly hanging onto your every word, tripping over his own feet to try and obey you and receive more praise and attention. You give it to him freely, both because you want this marriage to be successful and because you don’t think he’s ever known support before.

You start to realise just how much he loves doing things for you. Not just orders, but just any service? He loves fetching you a cup of warm milk from the kitchen before head, and no matter how many times the servants in the kitchen tell him that they can bring a cup of warm milk to you every night, he always tells them not to. He genuinely loves the whole process, from heating the milk to carefully carrying it upstairs to placing it gently on your bedside table and then finally, seeing you softly smile at him and thank him, telling him he’s the best husband you could have ever hoped for.

He always gives you this sweet, flustered smile before he retreats to his own quarters. He’s not quite ready for bed sharing yet, but he also can’t bring himself to go to bed without knowing you’re pleased with him.

As you two start to get closer, start to understand each other better and enjoy each other’s company, there’s a kink in the road.

Allicent decides to invite herself to dine with the two of you. You already know what she will discuss, as she had been hinting it in conversations with you ever since you married Aemond. She wants Aemond to produce an heir, she wants to know why you aren’t pregnant yet.

Aemond doesn’t know that this will be the topic of conversation, and you’re very worried about how he will react. Because the truth is just that he has shied away from anything beyond kissing, so producing of heirs isn’t really possible at the moment.

When you arrive to dine with allicent, the servants have put all the food on a table next to the dinner table with plates and cutlery. You’re clearly supposed to go and take what food you’d like and then sit down at the table.

Before you can even walk over to the food, Aemond is pulling a chair out for you, telling you that he’ll do it for you. You smile at him and let him do it, understanding that he’s undoubtedly nervous about meeting with his mother and wants to know he’s done something right.

You thank him when he hands you the plate, telling him he’s the perfect gentleman and husband. Aemond blushes and smiles, mumbling “thank you, my wife” under his breath before he turns to dish up his own food.

Allicent sees this, and she speaks up. She asks Aemond if he’s always having to do everything for you, and she asks you if you’re trying to manipulate her son with praise and affection. Poor Aemond nearly drops his plate when he hears that.

You’re quick to respond and defend Aemond. You tell her that what happens between you and your husband has nothing to do with her, and that if you wish to tell your husband just how much of a help he is then she has no right whatsoever to try and stop that. You even add that you would never try to sugarcoat things or butter him up, you say only what you mean (that last part is more for him than it is Allicent).

Aemond now really doesn’t know what to do. He’s never… he never even thought he’d get this kind of love and attention, nevermind to get it and be protected on top of that?

You stand up from the table and take aemond’s hand in your own, taking the plate from his other hand and putting it back down before guiding him out of the room.

He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even ask where you’re taking him. He just lets you lead him.

You take him to your shared quarters, to where you and him are supposed to be every might but no arranged couple actually do that right from the start.

Aemond is silent for a moment, and then when he looks back at you, his voice is so quiet it’s almost a whisper when he asks, “Did you mean that?”

When you nod, Aemond comes closer and spends his first night in that bed. You don’t actually consummate the marriage, but you talk and you lay close together and you know without a doubt that a barrier has been taken out from between you two.

I guess what I’m really trying to get across through all this babble is this: while yes of course praise gets Aemond all worked up and flustered and very very horny once your relationship progresses, praise also serves another very important purpose from the moment you met him. It makes him feel safe, protected, like he’s something worthy of your gaze.

[crescent-witch]

it rains in hell (and angels could be bad)

ship: demon!wanda x angel!reader

summary: wanda wants to watch you squirm.

warnings: dom!wanda, sub!reader, praise, degradation like once, worship/religious kink, corruption kink, pet names, magic restraints, double-sided strap-on, slight spanking, temperature play if you squint, a little bit of mean wanda, wanda in her emo era | MINORS DNI

word count: 1.5k

a/n: this is possibly one of my favourite fic ideas I’ve ever written.

You bounced on the balls of your feet, softly humming as you glanced around yourself. You were a bubbly, giggly ball of sunshine. It was hard not to be, given what you were. It’s rare that you meet a grouchy angel. You couldn’t contain your smile if you tried, an excited grin spread across your face and you waited.

“You seem excited, Angel,” you nearly squealed when you heard the voice behind you, but you knew better than to turn around and face her. “Any reason?”

You giggled as you felt Wanda come up behind you, her heated hands running up your arms as the soft feathers of your wings brushed against her.

“Nuh uh,” you shook your head with a small smile on your face, excited to play her game once again.

“No?” Wanda questioned, her hands drifting down to the swell of your ass. You gasped when she gave it a harsh smack, the ruffles of your dress swaying from the impact. “You weren’t waiting for me?”

“No, was just standing here,” you said, trying to maintain your innocent facade and not melt into her.

“Oh, princess,” Wanda huffed, a pout on her face as her spare hand began running up and down one of your arms again, the other supporting your lower back. “And here I thought you were looking forward to seeing me.”

Wanda was suddenly pushing your back, throwing you forward until your knees hit the soft, yet solid, clouds beneath you, like a giant pillow. Your hands hit the clouds, catching you before you fell flat on your face as Wanda circled you like a predator.

“How cute,” Wanda cooed at you, tilting your face up to look at her, cupping your cheek in her hand. “Perhaps I should get you a little leash and collar set.”

The thought made you whimper. The idea of Wanda dragging you around on a pretty leash, knowing Wanda probably a pristine pink or white colour, did nothing to stop the growing wetness in your underwear.

This was the first look you had gotten at Wanda in months and, unsurprisingly, nothing of her appearance had changed. She still wore the same style of clothes, black and red and leather. Her brunette hair still hung messily around her face, surrounded by a pair of twisting black horns growing out of her skull. You could see her glistening fangs poking just out of her mouth, grazing her bottom lip with their razor-sharp tips, and you longed to have them sinking into your neck. Or your thigh. Or really anywhere Wanda could find.

You yelped as Wanda’s hand pulled back and connected with your cheek, snapping your head to the side. It wasn’t the hardest slap Wanda had ever given you, not by a long shot, but it certainly pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You’re thinking too much, Angel,” Wanda tutted, soothing the already growing red mark on your cheek with soft strokes. “Need to knock all those silly thoughts out your head, huh?”

You nodded, nearly sticking your ass up in the air for her as excitement overtook you. Wanda chuckled, noticing the way your eyes lit up at her words.

“Aw, little lamb, I bet you’ve been so desperate the last few months. You’ve just been waiting for me to ask you to meet again, huh? So eager for me.”

She wasn’t wrong. Most of your days since the last time you had met with Wanda was spent waiting for her to summon you again to fuck you raw and senseless. One of Wanda’s many rules was that she decided when you would see her and where. You didn’t get a say in your meetings, and you were expected to come running every time she beckoned you. It wasn’t fair, but you were far too hopelessly devoted to her to notice.

“Go on then, Angel. Have your fun,” Wanda said, lifting up the skirt of her dress to reveal a long red strap dangling from between her legs. It was both yours and Wanda’s favourite, long enough that every stroke had you gagging around the toy, and what Wanda called your ‘special treat’ being pumped out when she finished.

You moved to sit up on your knees, the tip of Wanda’s strap nearly touching your lips, and as you did so you felt light tendrils wrapping around your wrists, tugging them behind your back. Restraining you was a common thing Wanda used her magic for.

“Come on, sweet girl,” Wanda urged you, hand reaching out to hold the back of your head, fingers absentmindedly playing with strands of your hair.

You wrapped your lips around Wanda’s strap, taking the tip in your mouth and sucking harshly.

You’re cheeks hollowed out from sucking as Wanda pushed herself further down your throat, breathing through your nose as she had taught you, but it did little to minimise the gagging noises coming from you.

“Fuck, so good,” Wanda breathed, the top end of the strap moving instead her, wiggling agaisnt her walls as your mouth moved up and down it, tongue lathering the faux cock in saliva as drool dripped down your chin.

“Such a perfect little Angel,” you looked up at Wanda with large eyes, throat bulging, stuffed full of dick as more of your innocence dripped away, like water down a drain.

“Imagine if your God could see you right now,” Wanda chuckled and your eyes widened as Wanda referenced the shunning you were sure to receive if anyone ever learned of your sins. “On your knees for such an unholy creature like me, servicing me, head full of sinful little thoughts.”

You knew the chance of actually being caught by anyone was slim. You and Wanda met on the brink of heaven and hell, a sort of no-mans land where God could not touch or oversee and you knew no other Angel would dare to set foot. But shame still overtook you as the thought made you clench your thighs together, the image of one of your fellow Angels, who saw you so pure and full of light, caught you on your knees for a demon, pleasuring her in the most wicked of ways.

“No hiding, pet,” Wanda tutted when she noticed the way your thighs pressed together, kicking your knees apart wide with her heavy boots, putting your drenched white panties on display for her. “Look how pretty, is this all for me?”

Before you could even attempt to nod or choke out an answer Wanda’s boot cruelly landed a kick directly on your cotton-covered clit, causing you to scream out around her strap, eyes watering.

“Sensitive little thing.”

The kicks continued as Wanda forced your lips to remain around her strap, brought down on your clit and folds and thighs again and again until your thighs were aching and your pussy was stinging and dripping with need for the demonic woman.

Wanda was quickly approaching the edge, her hips bucking and pushing her strap even further down your throat as she moaned for you. Your hands came to rest on the back of her thighs, steadying her as her legs began to shake and knees buckled.

“Shit, I’m close!” She cried out, fingers now woven into your hair and gripping hard, nearly pulling your hair from your scalp at her roughness. “Make me cum, slut. Fuck. M-make me cum and I’ll give you a nice little reward.”

Your efforts increased in fervour and the promise of being rewarded, nose touching the soft skin of Wanda’s stomach that her dress was hiked up above, as the strap was pushed all the way down, the bulge prominent in your throat as you gagged and whimpered.

“Oh. Just a little bit more, that’s it,” Wanda told you, hips stuttering as she began to lose control and suddenly her load was being shot from the end of her strap, her real cum coating her end of the strap and leaking out of her, milky white substance running down her thighs.

Her moans began to cease as she squeezed the strap, emptying every last drop of fake cum down your throat, laughing as she watched the way you struggled to swallow it all coming to quickly, some of it spilling out of your mouth and flowing down to spill on your dress.

“Oh no, baby love,” Wanda said with mocking sympathy as she yanked the strap out of your mouth.”Your pristine little dress is all ruined.”

You pouted as you looked at the light stains left behind by the demon’s release, coating the bodice of your dress.

“Looks like you’re gonna have to face God with your dress soaked in your sins. Unless, of course, you want to turn up in heaven stark naked.”

Your eyes widened in fear, terrified at getting cast out of heaven for such a simple mistake, but Wanda shushed your fretting quickly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll fix it, Angel,” she promised, hand returning to gently stroke at your hair. “But for now, wouldn’t you like your reward?”

You nodded, reluctantly letting your fear go as you stared up at the goddess of a woman above you.

“Good girl. Hmm should I take you in your ass or that soaked little pussy?” She chuckled warmly, the kindest you had ever heard her, as your looked up at her with excitement and eagerness. “I wish I didn’t have to send you back to that awful ‘paradise’. But at least when you face God again, you’ll remember who you really worship.”

[gt-jar]

Two Worlds among the Stars

7. CHAPTER

<- previous | next ->

Word count: 4.125

The next time Noah woke up everything hurt. His entire body was aching. He was hoping it was just the consequence of his escape attempt yesterday, but his throat was just as sore as his muscles, and his head felt like he had run straight into a brick wall. There was no denying it, he was sick.

Great, that's exactly what he needed right now.

He lifted his head from his knees, only now noticing how stiff his neck was. Sleeping the entire night in a sitting position on a wooden table was definitely not one of his best ideas. But Noah was nothing, if not stubborn. And he had gotten his message across last night, so it was worth it. Maybe it finally went through the man's thick skull that he could shove his hypocrisy somewhere else. Speaking of which, where was that guy?

One look around showed that the giant wasn't sleeping in his bed anymore, Noah couldn't hear him either, which meant he wasn't nearby.

Just like that his morning felt a tiny bit less horrible.

Hopefully he would be gone for a while, Noah certainly wasn't in the mood for any talking, and with how great things were going for him at the moment the man surely was going to say something like “deserves you right for running away” or “it's your own fault that you're sick now”.

Not that he would be wrong. Just thinking about yesterday sent shivers down his back. All things considered, he was pretty lucky that he got off lightly with just a cold. Things could have ended a lot worse. But the last thing he needed right now was a lecture. His head was killing him already and he would like to avoid making it worse.

Noah let his head drop on his knees and closed his eyes again, maybe his headache would lessen like this. The position may be extremely uncomfortable, and he sure as hell wasn't doing his neck a favor, but it wasn't like he had better options right now. With the giant gone he was stuck on the table after all.

He still very much preferred the current peace over getting to the pillow on the man's nightstand. At least that's what he told himself.

He must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing he knew was that he woke up to a snapping sound. Noah forced his eyes to open, and sure enough the giant was snapping his fingers in front of his face. Why couldn't he just leave him alone?

“You okay, kid?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

“Sure, why wouldn't I be?” Noah answered, his voice involuntary taking on a defensive tone. Sure, he felt even worse than before, but that didn't mean he wanted to rub it in the man's face. If Noah was smart about it, the man wouldn't even notice that he was sick. Miss Harris never did either.

John didn't look convinced though. But as long as he would drop the matter, Noah didn't really care. He didn't have to believe him, Noah just wanted him to stop bothering him. Just until he felt better. Was that really too much to ask for?

“If you say so,” the man said.

He still eyed him suspiciously, but took a seat, so Noah counted it as a win, “how about some breakfast then? I'm sure you're hungry.”

Just like yesterday he prepared a plate with bread and jelly for the teen, pushing it half way between them. Noah already knew what was coming next and gritted his teeth in frustration.

“If you can sit with me to fool me, you can do it today as well,” he tapped his finger beside the plate, prompting him to come closer, “And remember, I'm not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

Noah flexed his fingers, pretty much everything else felt sore. He braced his hands on the table, before pushing himself up. Just standing up made him dizzy, but he pushed through it. His legs felt so weak, like they had no bones in them to support his weight. He made his way over to the food, every step was exhausting him further. Noah just prayed that the man would leave him alone after this. Unfortunately, the spinning in his head only got worse, everything was starting to blurry. He had no control over his body and before he knew it he was falling towards the table.

Before he could hit the hard surface though, a pair of large hands caught him. His arms and legs were swinging and kicking, trying to find out where up and down was. He tensed when something cold touched his head. He realized that John's thumb was pressing against his forehead, and that's when he heard a hiss from above.

“When exactly were you going to tell me that you have a fever?” The man didn't sound too happy about the fact that Noah had tried to hide his sickness from him. Noah didn't understand why it was such a deal though.

“Why would I? It's just a fever. It's not like I haven't dealt with those on my own before. I can take care of myself.”

Noah swore the man looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it.

Good for him.

Instead he huffed, and pulled him close as he walked over to his bed. As Noah was cradled against John's chest he realized just how cold he was.

Damn fever.

The desire to lean into the warmth the man's body was providing was almost unbearable. That guy was basically a living furnace! Thankfully, before he could do something really stupid, he was placed on the pillow that served as his bed.

Then John placed the plate with his breakfast and a thimble filled with water beside him on the nightstand.

“Get some sleep while I'm gone, and please do me a favor and try to eat something. I'll be back soon” After that he walked out the cave, probably to “work” as he called it.

For once Noah was too weak to argue and lied back down. John finally left him alone. That's what he had wanted after all.

Right?

John ended his patrol earlier than usual. There was no need to drag this out, after the show he pulled off, John doubted there would be any trespassers any time soon. And besides, he wasn't truly focused on his work anyway. His thoughts were somewhere else, worry clouding his mind, distracting him. To go home was an easy decision, the kid's well being was more important than his patrol right now.

When he got home, Noah was fast asleep, his breathing shallow and uneven. His blanket had slipped down a little in his sleep, so John pinched the hem between his fingers and pulled it up to Noah's chin again, carefully tucking the blanket around his shoulders. From the looks of it, the kid hadn't touched his food. Nor the water.

This wasn't good.

Neither of them had eaten last night, which meant the kid had skipped two meals already. John may not know much about humans, but this couldn't be healthy. Noah was already awfully light, even for a human, barely weighing anything to him. He needed to eat. And even John knew that it was important to drink enough fluids, when you were running a fever.

Ever since the village incident, John kept messing up. First losing his temper, and now the kid was sick, which was partly his fault. As if their situation wasn't bad enough as it was already. He could have avoided this, if he just made sure that Noah had properly dried himself off last night, instead of giving him a lecture. That could have easily waited until the next morning. John sighed, there was no point in dwelling on things that couldn't be undone, he needed to focus on the important things. Right now the kid needed his help, no matter what he claimed. And John was determined not to mess things up this time.

But who was he kidding, how could he not mess this up? He had no idea how to take care of a sick child, let alone a human child! He himself rarely got sick. What was he supposed to do? What if he accidentally made it worse? Okay no, overthinking wouldn't help Noah. Right now the kid was sleeping, which was probably good. Rest was good. What else? Right, basic needs. Noah still needed to eat.

John tried to remember what his mom used to cook, when he and his sister were sick. She always made them something that was easy on the stomach and didn't require much chewing. So he started to make soup.

The moment he wanted to throw the cut vegetables in the pot, a coughing fit startled him.

When he looked over his shoulder, Noah was sitting up, his body hunched over and cramped up. Coughs rattling his entire body. This probably was more than just painful to watch. John walked over to his nightstand and kneeled down beside it. His intention was to rub Noah's back to help him through his coughing fit, but when his fingers as much as brushed his back, the kid recoiled from contact as if his fingers had burned him. The boy sent him the nastiest glare John had seen in all their time together. He put his hands up to show that he meant no harm. Not that it had worked the last times he had tried to convince the kid that there was no need to be afraid. But hey! At least the coughing had stopped.

“Would you drop the act already?!”

John, for the first time truly oblivious to what the kid meant, asked, “What act?”

“Don't play dumb with me! You know exactly what I'm talking about! Stop pretending to be so nice!”

“What makes you think I’m pretending to be nice?”

“Oh, let me think. First of all, you have been terrorizing my village for fucking ages. And did you forget that I saw how you acted back at my village? How you threatened us. And now you want me to believe that you're a good guy? I don't know what you're hoping to achieve with this, but it won't work. So stop it.”

Well, the kid had a point.

John debated his next words. If he wanted the kid to believe him, when he said he didn't need to be afraid, he had to tell him the truth. Hopefully he won't regret his decision later.

“Okay, you got me, I was pretending,” before Noah could say anything about being right, John continued, “but I'm not pretending right now. I'm gonna be honest with you, this whole… big bad giant thing, how I acted at your village, that was just an act.” Noah made no move to Interrupt him, which he took as a good sign.

“I know you probably don’t believe me, but you're a smart boy. You probably figured out already that I'm just a normal guy. Except for my size there is nothing really special about me. And you're old enough to know that I didn't just… poof into existence.

I’m not the only giant. I have family. Friends. There’re a lot of other giants out there. And all these tales about us, that humans spread over the years, they are just a scheme to scare you off. We’re not blood-thirsty monsters, but… we pretend that we are, because it's the only thing that keeps us safe from you-”

“Safe? From us? You're kidding, right? What on earth could someone my size possibly do to threaten a fucking giant?” Noah barked.

“Kid, where do you think I got these from?” He pointed at his scars, “One human may not be able to do much damage, but numbers can make a big difference. And humans, who think their lives are at risk, are not known for their great decision making. You experienced that first-hand.”

“I'm sorry you got dragged into this. I truly am. I wasn't thinking when I took you with me, but I had to play along. I'm just trying to protect my kind.” John said, hoping Noah would understand.

“I'm not asking you to trust me and I'm not trying to gain anything from this, but please let me help you, at least until you're feeling better. You're more than welcome to go back to hating me after that. Just-”

“Could you just leave me alone?” Noah grumbled, no longer looking at him.

John sighed and stood up. This went as well as expected. But he knew he wouldn't achieve anything by force. All he could do was give Noah the time and space he needed and hope for the best.

Not much later, the soup was ready. John took a spoon and tasted it. It was not as good as he remembered it, but it was pretty decent, if you asked him. His mom would be impressed.

He went back to his nightstand to get Noah, who was asleep once again. John couldn't help but frown. The kid looked even smaller, curled up under the blanket like this.

So fragile.

Like he could actually break, if John wasn't careful. Instead of waking him up or picking him up, he carefully slid his hands under the pillow and carried it with Noah on top over to the table, where his meal already waited for him. The poor kid wasn't even aware of it.

Now came the hard part.

John sat down and gently nudged Noah's shoulder with his knuckle. Noah stirred a little but didn't wake up.

“Time to wake up, kid,” he whispered and nudged the kid again.

Thankfully, the boy's baby blue eyes finally blinked open. They were all glazed over, a far cry from the sharp gaze the kid usually had. It made something inside John's chest squeeze.

“Hey, I made you soup,” John said in a hushed tone.

“Not hungry” Noah mumbled and wanted to roll over, but John couldn't let him do that.

“Hey, none of that, you need to eat, if you wanna get better.”

John slipped his hand under Noah's back and guided him into a sitting position. He didn't pull his hand away though, the man doubted that the boy had enough strength to sit up on his own, with the way he was leaning against his palm.

“Work with me here, kid. Just a few spoons and then you can go back to sleep,” John scooped up some broth with his other hand and brought the spoon to Noah's lips. But all Noah did was turn his head away. John wondered if the boy was just trying to be difficult or if it was really this bad.

“Noah, you need to eat. Please,” John subconsciously started to rub Noah's shoulder with his thumb.

“And then you'll leave me alone?” At this moment Noah looked so much younger than fifteen. With his bleary eyes and frail voice. If John hadn't been worried before, he definitely would be now.

“Yeah, promise.” John gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. After another moment of hesitation, Noah finally opened his mouth.

“There we go,” John murmured, being visibly relieved about finally getting the kid to eat something. The process continued for a few minutes, with John whispering soft praises. He was able to feed Noah a few spoons, before the boy stopped to open his mouth, signaling that he had enough. He didn't eat much, but it was better than nothing. A few drops of broth dribbled down Noah's chin and John used the pad of his thumb to gently whip it away. The boy didn't even try to bat it away. At this point the poor kid could barely keep his eyes open.

John slowly lowered his hand down onto the pillow and pulled it out underneath Noah's back. As soon as his head hit the pillow the boy was out like a light again.

The man tucked him back in and let him sleep. Sleeping was probably the best for him right now. John debated on carrying the kid back to the nightstand, but decided against it. This way he could keep a better eye on the kid.

While Noah slept, John spent the rest of the day working on his newest little project, glancing over to where the human was laying from time to time. The piece of wood slowly but surely shaping into what he had in mind. Sure, he could be more productive, but John didn't have the heart to leave the sick child alone. He wanted to be nearby just in case he needed something, when he woke up.

He knew that it was very unlikely, but it was a possibility.

John had thought the silence would be a welcomed change, but it had the exact opposite effect. It filled him with dread. He would prefer it, if Noah kept insulting and glaring at him, if that meant the kid was feeling better. Seeing Noah being so still made him uneasy.

He glanced over again and saw that the kid was silently watching him, his eyes half-lidded, but awake nonetheless.

“Hey there, sleepy head. That cold took its toll on you, huh?” John looked at him with a sad smile.

“Been worse,” Noah said even though that was a complete and utter lie, he couldn't remember the last time he felt this awful.

He flinched when the man reached for him and placed his thumb on his forehead to feel his temperature again.

“Shh, I'm just checking.”

Maybe John was just imagining things, but to him it seemed like Noah was warmer than this morning. No wonder he was sleeping so much.

The man didn't pull his hand back right away. Instead he brushed his thumb over Noah's head a few times, almost tenderly stroking the hair out of his face. “See, everything is okay.”

Against Noah's will his eyes started to water, so he closed them. He couldn't remember the last time someone touched his head not to strike him. The gentle strokes felt so… good. Almost soothing his headache away. He could fall asleep like this.

But then the comforting touch was gone again.

Noah blamed his current state for wanting it back. How childish of him to even think such a thing. The fever was starting to mess with his head. Noah hoped this wouldn't last long.

“You can say it, y'know?” The boy rolled onto his back, so he didn't have to see John's face.

“Say what?”

“That it deserves me right for running away.” Noah just wanted to get this conversation out of the way.

There was a pause, then a sigh.

“Noah, believe it or not, but I don't enjoy seeing you like this. I really do want to help you. Here how about this, what would you usually do when you're sick?

“Working,” Noah answered dryly.

“You're kidding, right?” Noah's dead-pan expression told him otherwise.

“But didn't you say you're fifteen? I know I'm not a human expert, but I'm sure children aren't supposed to work.”

Noah scoffed at that.

“So? Money was always tight at the orphanage. And Miss Harris used to say, if I wasn't gonna be adopted, I could at least make myself useful.”

“Why would she say that?” The man asked quietly. Softly.

Noah let out a humorless laugh “Who would want a brat like me?” He almost wanted to turn his head to see the man's face, but decided it wasn't worth it. Then he added in a much softer voice, “And besides… I’m too old to be adopted anyway. People want the little kids, y’know the cute ones.” And with that he rolled over, signaling that their conversation was over.

Later that night, John was still sitting at the table, watching over Noah. Usually he went to bed relatively early, but worry kept him wide awake. His assumption had been correct. Noah's fever got worse. Through the day he had been drifting in and out of consciousness. Right now it seemed like he had settled in for the night, although it looked far from a peaceful slumber. The boy was curled up into a little ball and his brow was knitted in discomfort.

But that wasn't what had John worried.

In addition to the fever, Noah had started to have chills around noon, shivering under his blanket like a withered leaf in the wind, even after John had put more wood into the fire. It even seemed like the shivering just got worse the more time went by. John was running out of ideas. He couldn't just go to bed and leave the kid like this. Then an idea crossed his mind. Maybe it was stupid, but it couldn't hurt to try.

John gently rubbed Noah's shoulder to see if he would wake up. Luckily, the kid remained asleep. John took a breath and carefully scooped Noah up in his hand, who was not happy about being disturbed and the loss of his blanket. The kid started to stir, a quiet whimper escaping him. John quickly shushed him, silently praying that Noah wouldn't wake up. “Shh, I know, I know. Just sleep, everything is okay.” Thankfully that seemed to work and Noah settled down again. John just hoped it stayed that way, because there was no way the kid would let him do this if he was awake.

John placed the boy in the crook of his arm, if the fire wasn't working, maybe body heat would. Just when he pulled his hand away, Noah's face scrunched up. John wanted to kick himself for thinking this would work, an excuse already forming on his lips, but to John's surprise Noah didn't wake up.

No, quite the opposite actually. He rolled over, now facing John's torso, and curled up. John didn't dare to move. Or breath. He let a few moments pass to see if the kid really wasn't going to wake up. But even after several minutes Noah remained asleep.

This was… unexpected.

Unfortunately, the kid was still shivering. But maybe if he…? John knew he was pushing his luck, but still lowered his hand again, cupping it behind Noah's back, providing warmth from both sides. Absent-mindedly John started to stroke his thumb over Noah's back. Soon the shivering stopped and for the first time Noah's body seemed to relax, his troubled expression slowly melting away, and turning into something softer, still not fully relaxed but much more at ease.

It was hard to believe that this boy was the same one that had yelled at him yesterday. The boy had never let his guard down. Always ready to fight or flight. Always on alert. It made John's heart sink, that this was the only time the kid was this calm around him.

It was easy to forget just how young Noah was. But right now you could see past the mask he was wearing. With him being sick and John holding him like this. The man being well aware that he was holding Noah in a way someone would hold a child much younger than him.

He was just a kid. A kid that went through a lot already.

There was this tight feeling inside his chest again, but he ignored it.

Just when John wanted to relax now that the shivering had stopped, the kid began to move again.

The man, already fearing the worst, prepared himself to be cussed out.

Imagine his surprise when all the kid did was nestle closer to him, burying himself deeper into the warmth. And to top it off he grabbed his shirt in a loose fist and let out a content little sigh.

For a moment everything stilled.

John couldn't believe that really just happened. The kid was seriously snuggling up to him, even if it was just to seek warmth. Or maybe there was more to it.

But now was not the time to think about it.

Instead John went back to stroking Noah's back, while his shocked face turned into a fond smile. Under different circumstances he would consider this the most adorable thing he has seen in his entire life. But he knew if it weren't for Noah's bad state of health, this would have never happened. The kid still hated his guts.

And yet…

“And you say you're not cute,” John chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

The man leaned back in his chair, making himself more comfortable. Looks like he was going to sit here a little longer.

Though, John found that he didn't really mind.

Taglist: @da3dm @himbogiants @coffehbeans @mehs-mini-magic

[dearsnow]

SALT FARE, NORTH SEA

- when a dragon falls from the sky, decimating your ship and bringing a strange boy along for the ride, you begin to question if the some of the targaryens are really as bad as they seem. (aged up!lucerys velaryon x fem!reader, angst to fluff, ur burning hatred is quenched by time spent on the sea 🤞) MAJOR SPOILERS FOR HOUSE OF THE DRAGON! au where vhagar doesn’t kill luke, arrax just gets absolutely mauled and falls out of the sky. aged up luke because I didn’t realize he was that young when i started writing 💀. ⚠️ TW for death, suicidal thoughts, and trauma.

word count: 4,213 (jesus christ)

a/n - ohhhh my god guys i’m back!!!! this was certainly a labor of love. i don’t know if I’ll start writing consistently again, but i really hope i do. i love you guys so much and thank you for the continued support even when i’m on hiatus! also i’m sorry if luke is ooc because i choose to believe he’s quietly funny and a little bit of a menace 😭

As the waves batter the sides of your ship, you don’t feel seasick. You feel the spray, see the occasional silvery fish zip by under the water. The sun beats down on your exposed neck and the motion swirls your mind, but you are sick for an entirely different reason.

Betrothal. God, you hate how that word sits on your tongue like a hot piece of meat. You are to be sent off to the their of family, married into their lineage and forced to bear their children until your womb shrivels like a sun-dried date. Of  all of your options, the Targaryens are certainly the worst. 

Aemond, in particular. You’ve heard stories of his cold demeanor, how he could kill you with a look. With his hands, too. He is quite the skilled swordsman, not that you would ever wish to witness it. He is the one you are set to marry.

Oh, the misery. The horror. You can feel bile rising in your throat whenever someone mentions him or his mother, great Queen Alicent.

You figure, though, at least it isn’t his brother.

You come from a noble family. It was bound to happen anyways. Trade your Martell name for some haughty lord’s and become his sow for the rest of your life. Your short, miserable life. In some ways, you are a bit grateful. You will never want for food and you know you’ll bring great honor to your family by marrying into the Targaryens. 

You just wish you could marry for another reason, not just forging alliances and heating up old, cold ones. You could have a happy life with the person of your choosing. You could sell fish on the shores of the sea and pick flowers in a field.

You play with this notion in your head before you hear a mighty crash and the sound of splintering wood.

The screams come mere seconds later. They pierce the air as snapping bones and rending flesh ring out. You stumble back, nearly falling off the edge of the ship. Large chunks of meat have started raining from the sky, crushing everything in their path.

You feel your heart beat so fast it nearly leaps out of your chest as you scramble for friction. Fuck, what the hell?

With the meat there comes blood, great amounts of it. It trips the sailors up, sending them careening over the wooden edges and into the sea. 

You narrowly miss the giant dragon wing that splits the boat in two. The entire thing has started sinking, and your blood runs cold. 

The ship is tilted from the massive gash in the center. Water is mixing with blood, and your dress is soaked to the bone. You can’t help but think that the finest silks Dorne can offer will drag you to the bottom of the depths.

As you clamber to the top of the ship’s bow as another fast-moving figure falls into the water. You don’t notice it in the moment. 

A shove comes from behind, pushing you to the side. Your back aches where you were struck.

“M’lady, m'lady! The lifeboat, you must take the boat. Go, go! Right now, m'lady.”

It’s Finhard, the deck swabber. He has two missing fingers, a lame knee, and a million stories. He swabbed the deck of The Sandstorm from port to port, collecting any and all information he could along the way. You loved talking to him so much it made the trip almost worth it. He always helped you sneak food to the cat stowing away on board. The cat you’re sure is now dead.

“What about you?” You question, voice loud but shaky. You can’t just leave him here.

“I’m a dead man, m’lady. I don’t matter.”

“But you do!” You insist, tugging on his arm. The screams are still ringing like alarms, and your limbs feel locked and like jelly at the same time.

“No, no. I might sink it. Girl’s damaged already. Please go, girlie. Jus’ remember me when you eat your next fish, alright?”

A pit pools in your stomach as you whip around to look at the small lifeboat. He’s right. The boat wouldn’t be able to hold you and a grown man, at least not one of Finhard’s size.

“Get on. I’ll push ya off, and you better have a damn good time with that prince of yours.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you watch your trusted confidant steel his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Finhard. I’m so so sorry,” You sob, clutching his rough palms. “I promise I’ll think of you always.”

“Thas’ all I ask for.” His voice is rough and uncut, hardened yet soft, like a feather made of chainmail. He picks you up like a sack of potatoes and places you in the rickety boat with the gentleness of a father setting down his newborn. He gives you one final kiss on the forehead before untying the boat and shoving it into the roiling water. 

Small hairs cling to your forehead as the ship lights up in a blaze sure to be seen from the shore. Your face is so wet with tears you feel as though the ocean is the product of them.

You sob into your hands as the people who took care of you on your journey sink, their bawls leaving a scar in your memory.

It’s not even ten minutes after the foremast begins to sink that you see a dark shape bobbing along in the water next to you. You stifle a gasp, thinking it must surely be a shark or a dead man. The water around it was red and heavy. 

When it floats closer to you, you see for the first time that it’s a boy. A boy who must be around your age, maybe sixteen or seventeen. His wrist gives a little twitch, and you resolve that you must rescue him. 

He wasn’t on your ship unless he was stowing away in the barrels, as teenagers often do. No matter his situation, you grab his soaked shirt and give a hard tug. 

The effort almost tips your boat, nearly sending you spiraling into the water. You give a little huff. The waterlogged boy is definitely heavier than you expected.

You try again, managing to get his arm hooked around the side of the boat. From there, it’s just a game of strength- you pull him up, using his clothing as a sort of lever to shimmy him out of the water. You roll him over, the water streaming off of him re-splattering your already wet clothes with water and fresh blood. The boat dips a little with his weight, but it does not sink. You praise the Seven under your breath. He has a cut on the side of his head, one that requires medical care far past the simple fixes you’ve learned.

You try to dress it anyways. Ripping a long strip of cloth from the bottom of your underskirt, you wrap it up and pray he doesn’t lose much more blood. 

You can still hear the creaking of The Sandstorm, though any humans were sucked under long ago. It makes a melancholy sound, blending with the waves and the seabirds and the rain that has started pattering down. A lump forms in your throat as you gaze at the wreckage. Hot water slides down your face as you sit in your little lifeboat, waiting for death that will most certainly come for your throat. 

It’s about two hours of lonely drifting before the boy wakes up. He opens his eyes slowly, then they widen as he gives a gurgling shout.

“Augh!” You stifle a giggle, though your voice is still wobbly from sobs.

He notices you and sits up, bewildered. As he takes in his surroundings, you sit and watch.

“Who are you? Where am I? Where is Arrax?” 

“I am nobody now, and we are in the middle of the ocean,” You gesture to the water surrounding every inch of your sight. “And I don’t know who Arrax is.” He sure has a lot of questions, though you can’t fault him for it.

“Arrax, my dragon. I… I think he’s…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

You stare at him in shock.

“Your dragon? The dragon that fell out of the sky in twenty pieces?” You question, voice heated. “The one that just killed a crew of fifty-two men?”

He’s silent for a moment. “So he’s dead?”

“Of course he’s dead, you imbecile! Did you not hear what I just said? He killed them. All of them. I’m the only survivor.”

“I’m sorry.” He mutters. He brings his knees to his chest and hugs them. “It was never my fault. It was him that killed Arrax, so it is him that killed your crew.”

“Who is him?”

“That bastard of a prince, Aemond. He and his dragon, Vhagar, chased us across the skies and attacked us in the air.”

Your hands tighten into fists as your throat constricts like you swallowed a spiny rock. You regret ever saving the boy, and you regret not slitting your throat when you heard of your betrothal to the murderer. Everything you’ve heard about Aemond is true. Your rage boils into hatred, and you swear that if you ever see him you will die and take him with you.

“So that must mean you’re a Targaryen too?” You say, trying to keep your voice level. It’s a skill you had to learn as a noble lady, but the hate building in your chest is almost too violent to quiet.

“Lucerys Velaryon, my lady.” He eyes you, taking note of your expensive yet ruined dress. He must know you’re not a commoner either.

You know the Targaryens are the only ones with proper access to a dragon, but you should have known that only someone descended from one could cause such absolute and utter destruction. It’s not Lucerys’s fault, you tell yourself. Don’t put the blame on him. Put on a smile and become your best even-tempered and kind self. But gods, the way you want to wring his neck for an event he seemingly had no control over.

“Why did he do it?” You ask. The tears from earlier start creating a pressure behind your eyes again. 

“Because I took his eye.” Lucerys’s voice is weak, but it has the strum of nobility that you know like a well-oiled harp. “He wanted revenge, an eye for an eye. So I ran. He found me in the sky and bit my dragon in half. I never meant to kill anybody.” So they’re all the same, the princes. Hardened and cruel and psychopaths. “Did you save me?”

“I suppose I did.” You want so badly to say ‘but I shouldn’t have’, but you hold your tongue.

“That is a debt I can never repay. Thank you. I’m truly sorry.” You shake your head. It’s not his fault, you repeat. You still cannot find it in yourself to forgive him. “What’s your name?”

You think for a brief moment. It wouldn’t hurt, you think, to tell him your name. That way when you both die, at least the man you’re stuck with will know the name of the woman that hated his family the most out of anyone in the world.

You speak your name, including your Martell family name, and he looks at you, eyes widened so much you think they will pop out of his skull.

“Aemond’s betrothed?” You are marrying into the greens, and Lucerys feels as though he should hate you for it. Unluckily for his honor, he cannot despise the girl who pulled him from the sea.

“Yes, what sorry luck.” You spit. “I would rather drown than go through with it.” You think of the promise you made to Finhard. “No, I would put poison in his chalice and watch him drink it.”

He laughs a bit, his voice ringing out against the repetitive sound of waves. “And I will buy the poison.” You allow yourself to smile. You hate it, but you smile.

You’ve always been the weirder daughter, yet the one that tries to talk with the lords and ladies and puts on a shining performance. That’s where the smile comes from, from all the times you’ve had to put your pearly whites on display. The morals have gone to shit, but the reflex is still burned into your person.

“You needn’t call me ‘my lord’. We’re even here, out on the sea.” He says. You can feel that’s not the only reason. A spark of guilt shimmers in the corners of his eyes. “Just call me Luke.”

“And you may call me by my name, Luke.” He’s right. There are no titles, only salt water and spray.

You watch the moon in the sky as it shines its beams down on your face. It sees everything. Every deal in secret, every promise you’ve ever made. It’s a gentle reminder that every person sees the same thing every night. You and Luke sit in silence, staring up at it. You wonder if your mother sees it too, from her ship. Can Finhard and the other sailors see it, from their watery graves? Can they forgive you for not saving them? For saving the life of a boy, whose mass is just under the weight limit of the boat? You glance over at him.

He’s staring at you, at how the soft rays of the moon highlight the curves and edges of your face. He feels a pit in his stomach, one that is not from hunger. It’s a gnawing feeling, guilt. He hates that he had to trade his life for fifty sailors. He thinks he would rather be at the bottom of the sea than see more tear tracks on your face. Another feeling eats at him, though he’s not sure what it is. It makes his insides churn and scrambles his mind.

He averts his eyes and looks at the stars once more.

You spend another two days floating in the water. You’re both sunburned and salt dried, and his skin is red and peeling. The conversation between the both of you had been dry up until today.

“May I have the flask?” He asks. You hand it over. For two whole days, all you have had to eat and drink is two flasks of water, a packet of dried fish, and some bread that has gone mushy from the water slowly seeping into your boat. You have to bail it out every hour or so.

“Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?” Luke questions, his voice rough. “Is anyone coming for us?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I would like to think there are boats out searching, but truly, they must expect us to be dead. Besides that, we have drifted so far away from the shipwreck that we might not be found even if they were searching.” He shakes his head, hair stiff from the salty spray.

“I would like to keep hope alive.”

“You are the only one.” You hear a small laugh from next to you. 

“You know, I could not ask for a better person to be stranded with.” He screws the cap back onto his flask carefully.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you certainly know how to ration supplies. And your optimism is inspiring.” A giggle bubbles up from beneath your buried feelings. 

“Is that sarcasm, my dear lord?”

He smiles. You can’t help but notice that his smile is contagious, the kind that reaches his eyes. The kind you found yourself dreaming about, and the kind you are certain your betrothed never wears. 

“Only if you make it out to be.” He pauses. “So, what was your life like in Dorne?”

Your eyes narrow. Small talk? It brings you back to your past. Talking to potential suitors and bearing their questions as they try to judge if you’re worth their money. It’s almost nice, the reminder. Before the wreck, you had been happy. Cheerful, even. You were nothing like you are now, hardened and weak and so close to putting sand in your pockets and drowning you can taste the seawater. 

“Why do you ask?”

“I figured it would be nice to know you. To really know you.” His words bring an odd sense of comfort to you.

“It was much nicer than this. I had friends and family, that was the best part. I never wanted for much of anything. I suppose I felt out of place sometimes, and I felt lonely like nothing else, but it helped to know that I could always have a home with the people I loved.” He nods, and the waves push against the boat. The sun is setting, condemning you to another sleepless night. “What about you?”

“I love my home, my people, and my family. I never felt up to the task of being lord of Driftmark, though,” He confesses, “and sometimes I still feel like a fraud. Gods, I don’t know why I told you that.” He knows. There’s something about your eyes, something that makes him want to spill every secret he has ever had. He wants to tell you about the time he stole Aemond’s knife, causing Aemond to pick a fight with Aegon. Or when he heard an argument between his mother and stepfather, or when his older brother snuck a frog into the pocket of a handmaiden. Your eyes burn with stifled anger and buried hopes and love.

You look at him with an odd expression. “It’s alright. Might as well get everything out while you can.” You know the feeling of not being enough well. “I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully when we get out of here.” You find yourself comforting him for god knows what reason. You should be angry, full of hatred and buzzing bees, but you can only feel sympathy for the boy across from you.

“When we get out of here? Where was that optimism earlier?” He teases, making you smile.

“It was killed and brought back to life. I have decided that I’m not going to die.” His laugh rings out, showering you in a feeling that makes you shiver.

“That’s a good thing to decide. I swear it too, we are not going to die. Aemond will never kill our spirit nor our bodies.” He takes your hands, palms rough and calloused. It makes your heart pound in a way you never expected. “We will be alright.”

You nod, hope blooming in your heart. Suddenly, the world seems just a little bit brighter. That’s when you see it; the seagull flying overhead.

You gasp, pointing up to the sky. It lets out a sharp cry as it circles around, and soon Luke is looking at it too. You’re so relieved that tears well up in your eyes.

Land must be near. It has to be. 

“Praise the gods.” He grins, dropping your hands to shield his eyes from the sun. “We will surely reach the shores soon.”

“I can only hope.” You whisper.

You spend another day on the water, your hopeful eyes searching for mountains or fields. All you can see is blue water, blue skies, and Lucerys Velaryon. You found that you’ve grown to like him, as fucked as your past self might have considered it. He actually treats you like a person. 

He squints into the distance. “I still don’t see anything. Maybe… maybe the bird was a fluke. A gull straying too far from the shore.”

You hit his shoulder lightly. “Don’t think like that.”

“It seems we’ve switched roles,” He smiles, “you’re the positive one now.”

“We certainly have rubbed off on each other.” The corners of your mouth lift into a little grin. Truth be told, your own hope is starting to fade, but you will never let him know. 

You’ve begun to notice things about the sea that you have never seen before. Schools of small fish darting below the surface, the pattern of the waves, even how chilly the water is. As the sun shines down, the water is peaceful. Maybe it’s a side effect of the trauma, or maybe it’s just you growing more comfortable with the idea of salt water. In any case, you suppose you need to look at its beauty to fan the dying flame of light burning inside you. It’s far easier to love than to keep hating. 

“The day is quite beautiful, isn’t it?” You whisper. 

“I suppose it is.” He says, but he’s not looking at the sky.

You are infatuating. The way the sun glints off your eyes enraptures him and keeps him in a state of lovely drunkenness. “Do you wish to marry my uncle?” There’s a hint of something more behind his voice. It’s almost desperate, and the thought makes you shiver.

You hesitate. “Not particularly. It would bring honor to my family, that I am sure of. So I will do it, but I will likely not enjoy it.”

“I understand that. I myself am betrothed to someone I can’t see myself loving.”

“The lady Rhaena Targaryen?” You know of her. The idea of him marrying the girl painted by the gods twists your heart in a way you can’t even comprehend.

He sighs. “Yes. It is my duty, but I cannot see her as anything but a sister. That’s all she’s been to me my entire life.”

“Duty is a wicked thing,” You muse, “pulling us away from opportunities to enrich our own lives.”

He nods. “If you could choose, is there anyone you would want to be married to?”

You think for a bit but eventually shake your head. “Do you have a special someone?”

“I am beginning to discover one.” He says. What does he mean by that?

When you look at him, staring far into the distance, you start to realize.

When the days grow dim, you huddle into each other for warmth. That’s why you fall asleep tonight, softened by his touch. Finally, you sleep for more than half an hour at a time. Luke’s arms are wrapped around you, as the lifeboat leaves little room for comfort, and the rock of the ship lulls you into a dream.

You wake to a jolt. You have no idea how long you’ve been asleep, but the moon is out and there is sand underneath your hull. Sand. Ground. You scramble to sit up, pulling Luke along with you. “Sand! Luke, it’s sand. We’ve made it! Gods be good, we have made it to land.” You grab at the wet grains, letting them clump and filter through your fingers. He lets out a loud cheer and pulls you in.

Out of nowhere, as you still have earth in your hands, he kisses you. His lips are rough and dry, but so are yours. He tastes like salt water and love.

When he finally pulls away, he is grinning like a lunatic. “We’ve made it, my lady. We survived.”

“What happened to our no titles agreement?” You tease, still flustered. Your cheeks are as hot as the surface of the sun.

“We’re on land now. The rules of society apply again, I’m afraid.” His whisper ghosts against your ear like he’s almost afraid to lose the closeness he gathered over the course of the last few days.

“Of course,” You say, pressing your lips to his cheek, “I would expect nothing different from such a high-ranking and strong man such as yourself.” 

He places a hand where you kissed him. Your skin may be chapped, but that damned kiss was sweeter and softer than spun sugar.

“I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding, my lady.” A glint of humor dances in his eye.

He steps out of the boat and offers a hand to you. The ground wobbles under your feet and you almost fall, but he is there to steady you. “Wait, I know this beach!” He realizes as he gazes upon the scenery. “It’s the beach off Dragonstone. I’m… I’m home.”

“Really?” You feel hope bubbling through your body. “You know where we are?”

“I do. Dragonstone is there, above those cliffs. Come on, let’s go!” He tugs your arm just a bit too hard, sending you sprawling into the sand. You grab onto his sleeve and pull him down too, leaving you both in a fit of giggles. 

You’re both weak and tired and sore, but your flames grow brighter every second you’re on solid land. “Race me!” He yells, taking off from the ground on shaky feet. You dart after him, all your earlier burdens seemingly gone.

You probably won’t catch him, but it’s okay. Right now, your future is ahead of you, your rage is behind, the land pounds beneath your feet, and the boy with brown hair is calling for you to join him.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Taglist (bolded means unable to tag): @mmmimilan @its-halleys-comet @savagemickey03 @persephonesportal @lovelyliliya @the-jess-life @spaceandstars @bbosica @hopelesswritergall @watercolorskyy

[wilcze-kudly]

Had an idea for the Avatar Bolin AU: what if the Beifongs & Zaofu are like a sanctuary, of sorts, if the Red Lotus still occurs?

Basically the arrival at Zaofu is the same, and Lin and Su still make peace. although I think unlike Korra, I can see Bolin getting more involved as a calmer mediator between the two of them & maybe gives them the space to still have their fight but also forces them to sit down and actually talk to each other about their issues.

He strikes up a friendship with Opal and Wei, to which he forms an immediate connection too. Bolin spends increasingly more time with Wei and they realize they've fallen for each other and begins a romantic relationship that ends up being very intimate but also very grounded. Mako being Mako is very distrusting/suspcious, but he eventually warms up (maybe Su and/or Lin privately talks to him?) And of course, Wing is one of the Wingmen along with Opal.

Regarding Wei & Opal, perhaps they're possibly the two individuals who Bolin feels he can be pretty open with? Like, Mako is very paranoid, Tenzin is basically on Dad mode, Korra and Lin will throw themselves at anyone trying to actively harm him... so with Opal and Wei he can sort of feel comfortable enough that he can talk to them about anything without the underlying anxiety that they'll freak out or tell him "I'm doing what's best for you/it's for your own good"? And like, Wei emphasizes his point that he loves Bolin, NOT the Avatar (Opal backs her brother up on this notion). Wei couldn't care less about Bolin's status at all. The three's relationship ends up being one of mutual, calm emotional support & trust; and considering how close the two are with Su, she totally ends up adopting Bolin into the Beifong family. Maybe she's like a mother/cool aunt figure?

What do you think of all this?

Oh my gosh that sounds so great! Yeah, i think that most of the plot of this AU would go quite similarly to the og show, so there would definitely be a stop in Zaofu. Lmao I think Bolin would either do really well with mediating the conflict between Lin and Su or make it 50 times worse.

Honestly the idea of Zaheer the renowned short king having to lug Bolin's beefy body around like he did with Korra is really funny to me.

Suyin would absolutely look at this lost puppy himbo of an Avatar and go: is anyone gonna give him the warmth and safety of a mother's love? No? Gotta fo everything by myself here.

But yeah, I can certainly see Wei giving Bolin a more "grounded" relationship than the rest of the Krew, maybe with the exception of Asami. Since in this AU I'm thinking of Korra maybe being Katara's apprentice, who joined the Krew to basically bodyguard the Avatar.

I think Wei and Bolin's dynamic would be kinda similar to waht I envision for them around the og show. With them bickering and butting heads at first, due to the fact that they see thtough one another's bullshit, before eventually coming to respect, admire and like each other. And then fall in love.

Both of them not being very well socialised would make them incredibly awkward when flirting, I think?

I think they can also both bond over the experience of being "handled" by other people. They'd defined try to support one another in becoming more independent and the idea of Wei being Avatar Bolin's biggest supporter is really cute. Think Katara threatening to beat up anyone whose mildly mean to Aang lol.

This honestly adds even more comedy to the sparring scene in B3. Because Wei seeing the Avatar, a literal demigod, with the power of the 4 elements and going: "I'm gonna throw a meteorite at this loser" is both in character and hillarious.

Also while pondering Bolin as the Avatar I remembered that this monstrosity actually exists in the canon show.

Giant Blue Avatar Spirit Projection Bolin can't hurt me, Giant Blue Avatar Spirit Projection Bolin can't hurt me, Giant Blue Avatar Spirit Projection Bolin can't hurt me, Giant Blue Avatar Spirit Projection Bolin can't hurt me

[nonuggetshere]

Some small AU specific headcanons let's a go

The Palelight family is one of these families that hug and kiss each other's cheeks as a greeting and goodbye. The kids also get hugs and kisses for goodnight, and yes that includes the adult ones, they're not escaping this (if they want to, of course, no show of affection is forced). Generally, in Hallownest, kissing on the cheek is a fairly common greeting amongst family members. Hornet is less than thrilled about thos 50% of the time, she's not the most physically affectionate person out there.

Flower prefers head bonks though and it's what they do with Hornet and PK. WL gets a proper greeting and a hug, maybe a gentle bonk or a nuzzle with a purr. With PK they just bonk their heads together like cats, and it's no gentle baby bonk either but a proper skull slamming. WL can hear the dull thud from across the room and wonders how either of them can just laugh about it and not even wince or get knocked back. She sometimes jokes that one of these days they're going to give each other concussions or get their horns stuck together. Hornet and Flower are similar, their bonks range from sensible ones to at this point I'm pretty sure they're just trying to see who gets knocked out first.

When WL gets comfortable with somebody she will just. Pick them up and move them while saying excuse me instead of asking them to move. She mostly does it with her kids (this includes Hornet) and PK.

The first time Petunia and Lummis get moved they don't know how to feel about it. Flower reassures them it means she likes them.

Idk if I even mentioned it, but when Flower was being taught all the necessary things to be an heir and shadowing PK while he worked Petunia also joined them, wanting to be an active part and supporter of Flower if they ever had to take up the throne (spoiler alert, unfortunately they do). Lummis joined them for a while but came to the conclusion that it wasn't for him. Of course, some nobles will get up in arms about a commoner joining their meetings but they quickly learn that's not gonna fly.

And Petunia, Flower and PK are surprisingly a fun trio for me to write. PK and Flower express their love for each other through friendly bullying and Petunia is much the same so it just works, they Click. The two are giant nuisances for PK at times but he can be snarky right back. They generally enjoy each other's company, it's almost surprising how well Petunia and PK get along considering she hated his guts just a few years before that.

Circling back to the nobles, it's worth noting that thanks to PK's and WL's...unique treatment of Flower for most of their life, there's some wild gossip about who they are. Considering their resemblance to their parents yet the way they were treated, the most popular one is that they're an affair baby of either PK or WL (nobody can agree whose they are). Unfortunately, this perception that they're a bastard holds on in some circles and affects how they're treated by them. Not all of them are bad, naturally, but there are groups that are and even think of Flower as lesser simply because of their former roles/not always being an heir.

Similarly, some of them are upset about Flower choosing to be with commoners. The nobles are a mixed group with different outlooks but there are certainly ones who are very classist and look down on Petunia and Lummis (and any court members, which includes 3/5 great knights also) for coming from humbler origins.

Some if Hallownest's nobility are downright obsessed with procreation, seeing as passing down their family names is very important to them they view bloodlines in ways that aren't always the most progressive, if you will. There is definitely a small subset of nobles who believe commoners being let into the royal family is a disgrace and tainting the king's bloodline, and an even smaller subset that believe this + the rumour of Flower being a bastard have an even lower opinion of Petunia and Lummis being part of that family. This gets even worse when Petunia falls pregnant before they're married, some of them even made comments about "less than half-bred" since they're the children of a bastard and a commoner, before very quickly learning that these sorts of comments will not fly around the king.

By all means not every noble is like this, but the ones that are are...very vocal. Now that the infection is long gone and PK gets a first hand look at how they treat people they perceive as lesser than them maybe it's time for some reforms.

Heading in a completely different direction. Genderfuckery.

Flower primarily uses they/them but they also don't mind any pronouns

They've also been trying out it/its in a reclaiming it way, but only allow these closest to them to use it

PK and WL avoid using it for obvious reasons though and Flower completely understands. They tried it for a bit but it left very bad taste in their mouths, Flower is just happy they gave it a go in the first place - they completely understand why people involved in their life when they were a vessel wouldn't be fully comfy with it so it's something mostly their partners and friends use. Still sporadically though, they prefer they/them 9 time out of 10

As for gendered terms, Flower doesn't mind any of them, though their preferences lean towards gender neutral and feminine terms. Their children call them mama, they go by heir, prince, princess, what have you, in court.

In Hallownest "king" is a gender neutral term used dor the primary ruler (Sting is next in line and she will too use the title king despite very much not being a man). Flower uses both it and sometimes monarch, with an occassional queen thrown in there.

Higher beings don't really have the same concept of gender as mortals (Flower and Hornet are kind of an exception since they were raised amonsts mortals), and neither PK nor WL exactly have a gender and simply rolled with the terms their followers came up with for them. After retiring (against his will) PK decides to try out more gender neutral and feminine pronouns and terms (I call PK "they" half of the time by accident anyway so why the hell not).

And lastly, a small idea I had. Before taking on a smaller form to be with her husband and becoming the queen of Hallownest, White Lady wad originally known to her followers as Mother Tree. Now this title very much remains unused and near forgotten, at most appearing in some history books and archives.

[writerofweird]

The Doors

The below story is a sequel to my earlier story confessionsofcaine.doc. It is 4,305 words long and also includes death, violence, enbyphobia, murder and suicide. It also includes characters originally created by Gooseworx, Glitch Productions and The East Patch, which the author does not own and has written this story as a tribute to the creators and their works. Please support the original creators.

Out of respect for Gooseworx and her plans for The Amazing Digital Circus and its story, this is set in an alternate continuity. The first two episodes and bits and pieces from her Tumblr and the previews are still a part of it. There are spoilers for the episodes here; in fact, the first sentence is a spoiler for Episode 2 so the whole story is under a read more link.

‘WASN’T IT ENOUGH YOU KILLED GUMMIGOO YOU BASTARD?’

I hate going through this door.

It’s a setting I’ve seen many times, a scene that’s splattered onto my memory. A short woman in a business suit screaming at a computer. Another, taller woman in a business suit resting motionless over a chair, almost looking like she has no skeleton.

‘Laura, please,’ came a voice from the computer screen, ‘if I kept him, this would’ve been harder!’

‘Laura, come on, let’s go!’

There’s another figure at the scene, attempting to pry the short woman away from the screen.

I’ve seen that person’s face before. Every time I enter this room, the moving humans have their backs turned to me, but I’ve seen the taller one’s face. I’ve seen it up close, looking over me like a bird over its chicks. Their face dominated my entire field of view, so I got a close look at their bulging eyes as they beheld me, and even though, unlike the scene with the computer, I’ve only seen that giant face once, I still clearly remember the cries of ‘No!’

How long have I been here? I think as I slam the door behind me, again in the middle of a room with crimson carpets and dull wood panelling. It feels like I’ve been here for decades, and at the same time, it feels like I’ve been here for hours.

What else is there to do but open doors?

One might be the way home, I tell myself, but then I wonder if I find home, will I recognise it?

My mind has created various images of what I might call home, but none of them ring a bell. I thought that my home would be an apartment with bottles and wrappers all over the floor and streetlights glowing from behind blinds, but that isn’t a very familiar picture. I certainly didn’t live in a cottage with a flower garden and a picket fence, and as much as I would like it to be true, I never lived in a mansion, well, one safer than the one I was trapped in.

I lightly hit my forehead to help me focus, and right as I do so, a vase leaps off the table. Funny. Just thinking about flowers.

Whatever plant was kept there – I’m no herbotologist or whatever those are called – is transformed into a mass of writhing worms, and the pattern changes to a scowling face. Without even thinking, I pull a crowbar from my pocket and in seconds, the foe is reduced to shards, the worms squirming their way within the floor.

None of the other furniture moved.

What else is there to do but open doors?

I pulled another one open, and again found myself involuntarily squinting as sunlight burst through. That setting is rare, and one I always make sure to savour.

When I first stepped through a door into this land, I told myself it was home, and if I walked enough through the tall grass and the bright forests, memories would come flooding back. Nothing I recalled as “home” could be found there, but I need a break from the constant barrage of nearly-sepia hallways, so I run into this land whenever I find it. I’m almost tempted to frolic through the fields.

Every time I come here, I mistake the first figure I see as a statue, an installation by someone attempting to make a statement. A metallic figure with a triangular, horned head, its body and limbs a mish-mash of various shapes. Their left arm looks like spaghetti. Their right leg looks like a rifle.

The figure stands beside a thick path framed by twisted trees, its yellow bricks making it stand out amongst the green. As I walk down this path, I am joined by two other figures: a giant chess piece with eyeballs, tattered robes and a large straw hat, and a pale young woman in a blue dress. Every time I come here, they don’t seem to notice me. They always notice the metallic being.

‘Look, Pomni!’ cries the chess piece, lifting a gloved hand towards the being, ‘It’s a wotsit! You always need one of those!’

Pomni picks up a nearby oil can and splatters it over the figure, allowing them to stretch their limbs; yes, they’re made of metal but stretch like elastic.

‘Oh, thank fuck’ sighs the being in a voice I know too well, ‘Hey, how’s it going, I’m Zooble.’

‘Do you want a heart?’ Pomni asks Zooble.

‘What? Are you kidding me?’ barks Zooble, their fists – or what count as fists – tightened. ‘That’s the last thing I want!’

‘Good!’ comes another voice, ‘You don’t need one working for me!’

I twirl around to see that blonde woman who was lying limp on the chair, except this time she’s wearing a tall black hat and matching robe, a broom in her right hand.

I’ve seen that woman many times on my adventures. I remember opening a door and letting loose a stench that made my nostrils sting. It was the woman, wearing the business suit she wore in the office, bright red wriggly lines around her form, along with flies. I even heard a foghorn in the distance as I beheld her.

I take out my crowbar again and swipe it at her direction. It felt like I hit something – it feels more like I hit a pillow rather than flesh, but it has no effect on her. In fact, after she lets loose a maniacal cackle, I always end up back in the hallway, as if the door just spit me out.

There was one time I stepped through and the chess piece, Pomni and Zooble were joined by another figure – one wearing a lion costume and a white tragedy mask.

There was one time I saw all four of them in a room where the walls were made of gleaming green emeralds, ones that made me flinch as much as the sun did. They all stood before a giant bubble, one almost as large as that face that cried ‘No!’. The bubble barked at them words I cannot remember, but what I do remember was who was controlling the bubble: a short humanoid figure in top hat and tails that matched the walls, his head a pair of comedy dentures with two eyeballs sitting atop his frog tongue.

As I pick another door, I see that tooth-faced man and the bubble again, the man now dressed as a circus ringmaster and the bubble much smaller. Zooble is there too, only made of plastic and not tin. The three of them sit in what I can only describe as a colossal playroom, building blocks of many colours lining the walls and framing a stage, gigantic wind-up cars and jack-in-the-boxes providing decoration.

‘So, Zooble,’ says the ringmaster, throwing his right fist to the left as if trying to hit an invisible fly, ‘as you chose to opt out of the Candy Canyon Kingdom adventure, Bubble and I will be providing entertainment until your friends return!’

‘They’re not my friends…’ sighed Zooble, right before the ringmaster conjured up another building-block wall in front of them, two windows built into the blocks. The ringmaster opens one window, crying, ‘Hey, Bubble, what do you get if you cross a rooster with a goldfish?’

The second window opens, revealing Bubble. ‘I don’t know, Caine, what do you get if you cross a rooster with a goldfish?’

‘A rooster who drowns,’ replies Caine in a more sombre voice, his arms flopping over the sides of the window.

‘Very amusing,’ replies Zooble, ‘anyway, I would like to do some drawing…’

‘Capital idea, Zooble!’ cries Caine, regaining his usual jovial attitude as he springs into the air. With another swerve of his fist, the walls and windows vanish and in Zooble’s hands – a balloon-like glove and a claw – materialise pencils and sheets of paper. ‘You could draw Bubble, really get his good side!’

‘No thank you,’ groans Zooble, looking at the paper, ‘I’d rather just draw things around the Circus, if that’s okay.’

‘Of course!’ cries Caine as Zooble walks through the halls.

More halls. More doors.

Every time I find myself in these halls, I try to open the doors. The doors with the cute cartoon faces on them, looking like logos for a children’s animated series. When I first came here, I gave them all my own little names before learning of their real ones. Bertie the Blue Bunny was actually called Jax. Smiley the Clown was actually Kaufmo.

Zooble leaned on the door that bore Kaufmo’s face – Kaufmo’s face crossed out with lines as red as the woman’s stink marks - drawing his face. As they do so, Caine slithers beside them, reminding me of the worms from the vase.

‘Go away, I need quiet.’

‘What you need, my friend, is support. You’re doing a great job! Go at it! Keep up the good work!’

‘Thanks but no thanks.’

‘Okay!’ cries Caine, and yet he stands beside them as they finish their drawing, and then turn towards the door bearing the masked woman. Gangle, formerly known to me as Masky.

The door – the one that brought me to this multicoloured wonderland – pulls me out and back into the hall. I open the same door to find myself back there, only for more figures to enter.

From a portal steps a bipedal alligator, a yellow, glue-like substance where there should have been scales. I’m certain I could see my reflection in his form.

As soon as he enters, he makes his grand exit, exploding in a flurry of party favours to the horror of a nearby jester.

I would hit Caine with my crowbar if it did any good.

Even though they aren’t present, I hear Zooble’s voice in my head.

She wanted us to suffer. If he didn’t kill Gummigoo, she would’ve.

‘I know you guys love your NPCs,’ Caine explains, bending and stretching ‘but if I start losing track of who’s a human and who’s an NPC, who knows…what could happen…’ His body went limp again.

He was a good liar, I’ll give him that.

The jester, Pomni in her usual outfit, can only chuckle.

Caine vanishes, not like Gummigoo had done but rather to some little personal corner or somewhere of that nature, and I hear Zooble again, this time for real. ‘Sheesh. I thought he’d never leave.’

Zooble shows their friends – the masked ribbon, the chess piece, the jester, the ragdoll (the rabbit doesn’t seem to be their friend) – the drawing of the clown, framed and standing on a table.

It’s a funeral.

When I’m not in one of these colourful places, I explore a haunted house, almost every piece of furniture possessed by malevolent ghosts. Occasionally, I’ve stopped to think what could have happened in their lives to make the ghosts as malevolent as they are. Did they have funerals? Did their friends have any kind words to say about them? If so, did any of them know what their deceased loved ones were currently doing?

As I watch Zooble say their piece about Kaufmo, the scene changes to a haunted house not unlike the one I had been exploring. Zooble, now wearing a different set of limbs including a plastic daisy for a leg and a fish fin for an arm, walks alongside the clown.

‘An Exit Door appeared when you first did,’ Kaufmo explains, gesturing to nothing with his enlarged hand, ‘and if you had managed to run through it in time, you would be back in your body. If Adams is observing us to make our copies more accurate, then she must place headsets on them often, and then another Exit Door will appear, and if we find one and run through it, we will enter…’

‘The more anyone speaks, the more nonsensical it sounds,’ Zooble groans, ‘I’ve only been here a day and I know we’re never getting out of here.’

‘We can’t lose hope…’

‘Just shut up and keep looking.’

As I watch Zooble say their piece about Kaufmo, the scene changes to a haunted house not unlike the one I had been exploring. Zooble, now wearing a different set of limbs including a plastic daisy for a leg and a fish fin for an arm, walked alongside the clown.

‘An Exit Door appeared when you first did,’ Kaufmo explains, gesturing to nothing with his enlarged hand, ‘and if you had managed to run through it in time, you would be back in your body. If Adams is observing us to make our copies more accurate, then she must place headsets on them often, and then another Exit Door will appear, and if we find one and run through it, we will enter a body wearing the helmet.’

Zooble places their hand on Kaufmo’s shoulder.

In seconds, I again find myself in a sunny setting, with me involuntarily squinting before revealing the blonde woman and Caine, tied up on a grey road. Zooble approachs them, riding a steamroller.

I return to the scene of the funeral. As I do, so does Caine, his eyeballs turned to the floor as he scratches his arm.

Caine wanted to say something, I know it, but he couldn’t.

‘Pomni,’ he says, ‘I can’t hold it in anymore!’ He grabs the sides of what could be called his face, and I’m certain he’s going to pull his head off his body. ‘I’m sorry I killed your friend! I had to! I can’t keep doing this!’

‘Caine…’ Pomni shivers.

‘I’ve been trying to get you guys out of here! I didn’t want to get attached to the NPCs I created before I destroy this place for good! I…’

‘Traitor!’ comes a woman’s voice from above.

Caine disappears, this time like Gummigoo had.

‘Obviously I’ve been too easy on you!’

The colourful walls transform into grey stone, stretching towards an inky abyss. Skeletal hands snake through the cracks between each stone, grabbing onto every funeral attendant as they shriek and struggle.

But there’s someone here who didn’t attend the funeral.

Jax, Bertie, the blue rabbit approaches them with a grin, hands behind his back as his form enlarges.

‘Jax will be in charge of your little adventures from now on,’ comes the voice that shook the entire room, ‘I see a little bit of me in him.’

Jax leans to look over his new victims. ‘I’m going to enjoy this.’

It’s a good thing Caine is a good liar. A good performer. Imagine what would happen if he broke character for too long.

In seconds, the funeral resumes, the room springing back to its original colourful form before Pomni approaches Zooble. ‘Zooble,’ Pomni asked, ‘did you get a good look at Gummigoo? Could you…’

Zooble places a hand on Pomni’s shoulder. ‘Sure thing.’

I see a picture of the alligator join the picture of the clown before being catapulted back to the hallway.

Here, I decide to stand still and breathe heavily, allowing my mind to process the rollercoaster I just went through.

It feels like I’ve been here for decades, and at the same time, it feels like I’ve been here for hours. I don’t recognise any of these characters, and yet I’m certain I knew them from somewhere.

It’s a ride I’ve experienced many times before, and a ride I’ve just experienced for the first time. My first thought was that it was the ghosts creating it, but then they would have used my memories, wouldn’t they? None of the people or creatures I’ve seen in these rooms are me and I don’t know if they have anything to do with me.

I have no memory of my childhood. What school I went to or what my favourite toy was I cannot say. When a teddy bear in this haunted hallway springs to life and I reduce it to stuffing, I think of how it’s a perversion of a childhood favourite, but if it was a favourite of my childhood, I have no recollection of it being so.

A landscape painting flies off the wall towards me, and I duck, allowing its glass to smash against the wall. The frame and the painting lifeless, I take a look at the latter, seeing Pomni and Zooble – Pomni in her blue dress and Zooble in their metallic state - in the sunlit forest, the witch lurking in the background.

The sight of this makes me pick another door.

Again I squint in light, but this is not the sun, but the yellow beam of a streetlight. As the door disappears behind me, I breath in and take in the night air, feeling an iota of hope I might have finally picked the exit door…

Weren’t they talking about exit doors earlier?

I walk and pay attention to the clacking my shoes made across the pavement, looking at the glowing shop windows, the full moon peeking from behind skyscrapers, and the big blue bunny.

No, this isn’t the way home.

Humans are walking the street, humans more detailed than the cartoon characters that populated Caine’s world, but here is Jax, throwing one of those humans to the ground and leaping into their car. With a laugh, he slams his foot on the pedal, not even bothering to close the door behind him, and drives the car in the middle of the pavement. I dive out of the way even though I’m sure he won’t be able to hurt me.

He craved to feel the rush again. I’d feel sorry for him if weren’t a murderous prick.

I don’t remember picking another door, but I have, as I’m in yet another room, a colourless office with several detailed humans, including three familiar ones.

The blonde woman in the grey jacket and skirt, now mobile and not dressed for Halloween. The short-haired person, now wearing an ensemble not unlike the blonde woman, tapping away at a computer.

‘Joanne,’ said the woman, ‘what have you done with your hair?’

I took a closer look at the person at the computer, and saw they clenched their teeth before responding. ‘I feel like it’s more me,’ they reply, ‘and I would prefer it if you would call me Jo.’

‘Why?’ The woman smiles widely. ‘Your hair looked so beautiful and Joanne is a lovely name!’

‘Please don’t call me that,’ Jo continues, ‘Jo feels more me. I mean, I’m 22, I’m still finding myself.’

‘Why would you need to find yourself? You’re right here.’

‘Very funny.’ It was a sarcastic remark they were struggling to phrase sincerely.

‘Please grow out your hair again, Joanne,’ the woman said, ‘it looks much better that way. You look like a boy!’

Nearby is the woman who was screaming about Gummigoo. Laura. Pomni. Now I can see her from the front, and I can see she wears glasses.

As the blonde woman walks away and Laura approaches Jo, Laura whispers, ‘Don’t listen to her. I think it really suits you.’

‘You think so? I was thinking of dying it.’

‘Oh yeah, do that.’

Jo turns around. As they turn around, their face grows, the whole office swallowed up by their skin.

I’m back in the haunted hallway. Behind me are a never-ending set of doors framed by a carpet of blood. In front of me is that giant frightening frightened face.

A door opens.

I pull out my crowbar, steeling myself for another possessed item, but out comes a man, his face nearly hidden by his fedora and trenchcoat. My first thought was that it was someone pretending to be a noir hero, but the more I looked at him, with his five o’clock shadow and necktie, he seemed to have been released from a tattered pulp paperback. This was someone, I could tell just by looking at him, that had lived the noir lifestyle, not someone pretending they had.

He looked over his form. ‘An improvement,’ he states, ‘but not exactly what I’m used to. I’ll manage. Look, Nathan,’ he continues, addressing me, ‘I don’t have a lot of time, so just look at the face there. Look at them.’

‘Oh,’ says Jo, ‘thanks for using my preferred pronouns.’

‘Hey, whatever you’ve heard about us isn’t true,’ he says to the face before turning back to me, ‘Look, buddy, that face up there. You owe your life to that person. You recall old teeth-head and gummygator?’

I could only say, ‘Yeah?’

‘Man of few words. I like that. You’re just like them. Characters created with care, given new life.’ He turned back to the face. ‘It wasn’t Abby or your copy meddling with your game. Well, Caine sending his little life story to you may have been the spark that finally made him what he is. But it’s mostly you. You thought about him like the Adamses thought about Caine and he thought about Gummigoo.’

‘So you’re saying…’

‘No, of course I’m not saying it’s the power of love that made Nathan what he is. My associate might say that, but I won’t. Look, I’m busy, and I’m certain you two are smart enough to figure out what’s going on. I mean, Jo, you’re pretty much the hero of this picture. See ya.’

He steps into the door and leaves as quickly as he entered. For once, I feel no desire to explore. I can only stare at Jo. I can only stare at Zooble.

It feels like I’ve been here for decades, and at the same time, it feels like I’ve been here for hours. I didn’t recognise any of the characters I saw, and yet I’m certain I knew them from somewhere. I didn’t know Jo, and yet I felt I knew them more than they probably knew themselves.

We stare at silence for a few seconds before they pull their face away to lift their hand towards me. It looks like they’re trying to grab me and pull me away from my home, but I know they’re unable to.

I lift my hand and place my tiny palm against their real one. No, we place our palms against the film separating our worlds.

I say what I know is the only right thing to say:

‘I want you to tell me exactly what I am.’

I find out more about who they are. Jo, non-binary AFAB artist, who briefly worked in a tattoo parlour before realising game design was their true calling. They worked at game company C&A, the company behind The Amazing Digital Circus. The Amazing Digital Circus was going to be an immersive virtual reality experience full of fun and adventure.

It was going to be that, but it was transformed into a prison, a way for Ms. Abigail Adams to replace her employee’s minds with…

‘They weren’t like you. They had flesh and blood bodies but…they didn’t think. They just did what she programmed to do. She didn’t put…she didn’t put much thought into them.’

The Amazing Digital Circus, the prison where Jo and others had been kept for so long, had been overseen by Caine, who was secretly working on a way to save everyone. He apparently had some help from an angel, and Jo thought they had found that angel, only for another to talk to them instead: the man in the fedora who had entered the hallway.

Caine had managed to save whoever he could and destroyed the Circus so no-one else would fall victim to it, creating a document which he sent to those he saved before he died. A little piece of him that made me somewhat like him, I suppose.

Jo then explained exactly who I was. Nathan, a man trapped in a haunted house as part of a game they were working on, one based on their experiences being afraid of the dark as a child and even feeling unsafe as an adult. Even when they were trapped in Abigail’s program, they thought of me, the world I created and what more I could experience.

They not only created games, they created artwork and wrote about their experiences in the Amazing Digital Circus before its destruction. They kept that on their computer, and those were the rooms I visited.

I wondered if sending the document to a computer with any game on it would bring the characters in those games to life, but I was mentioned in the document – a side effect of trapping peoples’ minds in a computer was that their memories floated around for Caine to see – so I wondered if Caine wanted me to gain sentience.

No, it wasn’t him. It was Jo. Jo made me and Jo saw me and my world as a labour of love. When they saw me move of my own accord, they thought it was Abby’s interference, but they didn’t delete me. They couldn’t delete me.

Jo pulled themselves away from the computer to show off where said computer was housed. A bed with a duvet cover that looked like a broken window. Various paintings depicting withered, surreal landscapes and hallways like those I constantly travelled through. A magazine cover with Abigail’s head, glued to a dartboard.

‘You know,’ they said, once they returned to their seat, ‘I thought, once I complete this game, I’m going to put it up online for free, make it popular and everyone will forget Adams and the crap she churned out. But she shouldn’t be forgotten. Everyone should know what she did.’

They sent the file out. The file that helped me think and realise.

They sent it out anonymously.

I pointed out that I could be used as proof, but they said, ‘No, you’ve been through enough. I think it’s time I thought of a new adventure for you.’

[mythicmanuscripts]

As soon as you said a/b/o i was sold! And no omega!reader, you stole my heart! Let me know if this is too specific or not specific enough but could we know what would be the best way to court the omegas of team green? How would they want to go about it? What gifts would make them fold the fastest? Would they try to speed up the process against decorum if they got too desperate?

Ooo great question anon!! Since we’ve never discussed a/b/o before, I think I’m gonna write some general head cannons for courting omega!Aegon and also omega!Aemond and then we can develop from there?

While this answer isn’t really explicit, I’m gonna put it under a cut anyway just because I know a/b/o isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. All a/b/o will be tagged ‘a/b/o hotd’ so you can easily filter it out :))

COURTING OMEGA!AEGON HEADCANNONS:

- so obviously Allicent would have a whole line of alphas available and she’d definitely have one in particular that she wants for Aegon. Does Aegon listen to this? No absolutely not.

- I think the trick with Aegon is to find the middle ground between letting him be independent and also caring for him? Cause Aegon would HATE to be controlled but also he will giggle like a school girl and kick his feet if you open the door for him or pour his wine for him.

- while he does certainly like gifts, I actually think he likes small personalised gifts far better than anything expensive? He is quite literally the king he can afford whatever he wants.

- he could not care less about the giant gold necklace the Lannister alpha presented him with, but then you literally just pick a flower from the gardens that he told you was his favourite and when you give that to him he blushes and thanks you and hisses at the poor servant who tries to take it and put it in a vase.

- it should come as a surprise to absolutely no one that he’s not exactly one for traditions and decorum, and so if he can see that you accept that then he’s so happy.

- he’s also VERY possessive. From the moment he thinks he might like you, he hates the scent of anyone else on you. He’s well aware that scenting is looked down upon before mating but Aegon found not give less of a fuck because there’s another omega glancing at you and he will not have that!!!!

- it’s also very important to just speak to him normally? He hates when people speak to him formally and put on this facade. He needs to feel at ease and supported by his alpha.

- also he will indeed get very desperate as time goes on, especially because allicent digs her heels in a little about his choice

- there’s a solid three weeks where he’s just losing his mind cause he knows who is alpha is. He can’t stand having to entertain all these other suitors, he doesn’t want them!!!!

COURTING OMEGA!AEMOND HEADCANNONS:

- most people get courting Aemond terribly wrong, because they see his strong and skilled he is and how he’s so very very intimidating and so alphas tend to think he wants them to treat him like another alpha? And make no mistake, Aemond has worked very hard to get rid of the omega stereotypes and he certainly wouldn’t want all the alphas in the keep to treat him like an omega.

- but…. He just melts when you treat him like an actual omega? The others bring him swords and books and armour, all things he can get himself very easily and none of it impresses him. You bring him flowers and the softest blanket you can find for his best and he just absolutely melts because that omega side of himself is so so happy??

- he wants to feel safe and loved and cherished and yes he knows he’s not acting like someone who wants that but deep down he wants an alpha to treat him like a proper omega so badly.

- So when you introduce yourself and ask if you can stand closer and ask before you touch him and offer him nesting materials and pretty jewellery and just whooing him like he's any other omega

-- this is because when you treat him like that, it means you see him as an omega deserving of that? All the other alphas trying to get his are rude and entitled about it, acting like because he fights and rides a dragon and does things not stereotypical of an omega then they can just demand his hand and he's supposed to be thankful that anyone is interested in an omega like him

-- but you see all those traits and just thinks it adds to how incredible he is? So when he meets you and you ask if you can kiss his hand and go for a walk with him through the gardens? He's sold.

-- During your walk, you have very real genuine conversations and you listen to him and you give him the credit he deserves. You know he's very knowledgeable and you enjoy learning from him. The others expect him to be quiet.

-- I actually think out of Aemond and Aegon, it would be Aemond who gets the most desperate and is the most likely to beg their alpha for more before anything is official. I know this sounds counterintuitive but I'll explain: Aemond never actually thought he would find a good alpha.

-- Aemond was convinced he'd either be alone all his life or he'd have to settle for some pompous alpha who uses him and who he'd spend most of his days avoiding. So when suddenly there's an alpha who treats him well and listens to him and who makes him feel so wanted and safe? It's so so so hard to wait.

-- Allicent warns him, tells him that he can't take this too far before he's mated because if word gets out that he has then he'd never be able to find another alpha but what allicent doesn't understand is that this is exactly why he wants more. He doesn't want anyone else to even look at him. He wants to be drenched in your scent and so thoroughly yours that there can be no one else.

[foggyfanfic]

Mirabel's Super Secret Adventure

Movie AU

Chapter Preview: “Is there more? Is there anything else? S-some clue!? About how to fix all this?” Mirabel called over the wind.

Tío Bruno furrowed his brow, concentrating, but shook his head, “The vision-, it’s not ending by itself, b-but the path forward, I-. I’m flying blind here, I don’t know what way-.”

Prologue Prev Next Masterlist

9. Circle the Wagons

Gabriel backed out of the dining room, only dropping the shield when he was sure everybody was free and clear. The room didn’t completely collapse, but it certainly didn’t hold up well without the extra support.

“Is anyone hurt?” Julieta called out, and received a series of no’s.

“What happened?” Señora Guzman asked, turning to Abuela, who was still in her chair, looking shell shocked, “Alma?”

Abuela looked up at the sound of her name, and the shock faded from her face. She stood, all at once going from a frightened old woman to the unstoppable force Mirabel had known all her life. 

Seeing the strength lift Abuela's shoulders, Mirabel felt some of the tension drain out of hers.

“It’s alright, we’re prepared for this. Mirabel,” Abuela held her hand out to beckon Mirabel to her side, once Mirabel was under her arm, Abuela gently lifted her chin up, “I believe it is time for you to use your magic.”

Mirabel gulped, “I-I don’t know how to-.”

“Of course, of course,” Abuela cut her off, “Bruno, did your vision show you how Mirabel’s magic would work?”

Tío Bruno pressed his lips together, glancing at Tía Leandra and her Má, then shook his head.

“We can take Mirabel to Bruno’s vision cave and look,” Tía Leandra said, “show her what the miracle is expecting. I-in the meantime, do you think we should…?”

When Tía Leandra trailed off, Abuela filled the silence, “We should do what we can to make the dining room safe, then clean it up. Octavia! Do you think you could make a simple structure to reinforce the walls?”

“Uh, yep, that I can do,” Octavia nodded, after glancing at her mother for permission, “I’ll just go grab some earth.”

“Gabriel, Luisa, help her,” Abuela ordered and the three of them hurried out the front door.

“Perhaps we should prepare for the worst,” Tío Félix suggested, “just in case.”

Abuela looked pained, but agreed, “We still have the tents from last year’s camping trip.”

Félix nodded, and began delegating jobs to the remaining cousins. Meanwhile, Tío Bruno began urging Mirabel towards the stairs, then he beckoned her parents along as well. The entire journey up to Tío Bruno’s room was filled with tense looks shared between Tío Bruno, Tía Leandra, and her Má.

Mirabel looked at her Pá, he didn’t seem to be a part of the tense look club. 

When they got to his room, Tío Bruno didn’t take them up the stairs, instead, he ushered them behind the bottom of the sand curtain, and took them into the cave system. The walls were lined with glowing visions, everything from dinosaur digs, to robots on mars, to giant squid were displayed along the cavern walls. The green light they emitted seemed to make the air heavier, somehow darker than if it was just dark.

Eventually, after they’d been walking up a slight hill for what felt like forever, Mirabel realized they were in the secret passage to Tío Bruno’s tower.

“So,” she said, when the silence became too oppressive, “the cracks. Wow!”

Her Má gave her a gentle smile, while her Pá chuckled, but Tío Bruno just sighed, “I should have told you sooner.”

“We should have told you sooner,” Tía Leandra corrected, “we just thought we’d have more time.”

“I think it’s more accurate to say we hoped we’d have more time,” her Má said, shaking her head, “the cracks had been growing steadily, but not nearly that fast.”

“Wait, hold on, you knew about all this?” Mirabel asked her Má, who nodded, then looked at her Pá.

“Oh, not me, no. I knew there was a ‘this’ to know, but I didn’t know what that ‘this’ was,” her Pá shook his head, then turned to Julieta, “although I was promised you’d tell me when it was safe to.”

Tío Bruno looked over his shoulder at them, then sighed again, “There’s less of a ‘this’ to know than you think.”

“What?” Mirabel asked, losing track of the conversation.

Tío Bruno stopped walking and turned to her, “Mirabel, about your vision, the one that changes?”

“The one about me being the miracle's back up plan?”

“Uuuuuh well, technically, maybe,” Tío Bruno made a wavy gesture with his hand.

“Maybe?”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean ‘maybe’?!”

“We kinda, sorta, y'know… lied,” Tío Bruno said.

“What?!”

“Ok, hold on, we didn’t outright lie,” Tía Leandra held up her hands, “the vision wasn’t very clear and there were multiple ways to interpret it, so we chose the one that uh, didn’t make it seem like-. We chose the interpretation that would create the least amount of trouble for you.”

Mirabel stared at her Tía, she understood everything the woman had just said, and none of it at the same time. The silence dragged on, until Tío Bruno apparently couldn’t take it anymore.

“We don’t actually know why you didn’t get your gift,” Tío Bruno blurted, “w-we think it’s because-. I-I really do believe it’s because you need to not have a gift to fix things, b-but we don’t know.”

Mirabel took a step back, then another. She shook her head.

A lie. 

Her whole life had been a lie. 

No, not even a lie, a lie needed some truth, a solid fact, to divert itself from. A guess. Her life had been built around her Tío’s best guess.

Her parents seemingly teleported to her side, Mirabel stared up at her mother. She had known this whole time that Mirabel might be not just giftless, but completely devoid of magic. And she never said anything. Why? Was it shame? Was Julieta afraid that word would get out that Mirabel was useless? Dios, what her mother must have thought of her this entire time.

“Mirabel, this doesn’t change how amazing you are,” Julieta interrupted her thoughts.

“Absolutely,” Agustín nodded, “you have always been the kindest, most clever child a parent could hope for.”

Mirabel stared at the shadows cast by the visions on the walls. They held no answers for her, so she looked up at Tío Bruno. He watched her with a pained look on his face.

Her life wasn’t built around his best guess, it was built around a guess that would protect her.

“Is- you said you picked the interpretation that would cause me the least trouble. So, is-? What’s your most likely interpretation?”

He rubbed nervously at his arm, “W-well, at the time, that did seem like the most likely answer. But, you know, as you grew I started to think maybe Leandra’s guess was the best one.”

Mirabel looked at Leandra, who shrugged, “You’ve always been a good kid, I figured the miracle was just plain old getting weaker, and you might make it stronger again just by being you.”

“So does that mean you think I didn’t get my gift because, w-what? Chance?”

“You’re one of the best people I know, if anyone deserves a miracle, it’s you. So it has to be pure bad luck, nothing else makes sense to me,” Leandra shook her head, beside her, Tío Bruno half nodded to show he agreed.

Mirabel wasn’t sure how to take that. Under most circumstances, she would be pleased to be told she was good and deserving of miracles. But what Tía Leandra was suggesting just seemed so… cold. Like the universe had screwed her over, not for any particular reason, but because some Saint or Angel messed up their great cosmic paperwork.

A tear slipped down her cheek and her Pá immediately pulled the square out of his pocket to hand to her.

Despite it all, she still managed to give him a polite smile as she accepted it.

“So, i-if I don’t have any magic to fix things, then, then, how? What am I supposed to do?”

“Mirabel, if we’d figured out how to fix things without magic by now, we would have done so,” Tío Bruno shook his head, “you’re not in that vision because of what you are, or what you can do. You’re in that vision because you are Mirabel. Because you’re kind, and brave, and really smart. We will do everything we can to help you, but far as I can tell, it’s all going to come down to you.”

Another few tears slipped loose, and Mirabel dabbed at them with her Pá’s handkerchief. Silence prevailed for another long while. This time, nobody interrupted it.

She nodded slowly, then took a deep breath and said, “Show me the whole vision.”

Tío Bruno nodded solemnly, and they climbed the rest of the way up to his tower in silence.

His pep talk helped Mirabel to feel a little more stable, about as stable as a person could be when they just found out their entire life was built on a guess sold as fact. She eyed his back in the dim green light, sorting through the mix of emotions roiling in her stomach. She was angry at him and Tía Leandra, but she also understood why they did it and was grateful, she both trusted them more and less now that she knew they were willing to lie to the whole village to protect her, bit more than anything, she worried  their faith in her was misplaced.

They had guessed that there was magic stored inside of her, but they didn’t know. And now Tío Bruno looked at her with such utter trust, but was he just guessing she had what it takes to fix things?

They entered his vision cave through a concealed door that stood opposite the big round one. Tía Leandra popped out to grab the herbs and incense Tío Bruno would need while they discussed who would stay and watch the vision. The cave was big, but not quite big enough that all five of them could safely stand in the eye of the sand devil Tío Bruno’s vision would create. As a general rule, if more than two adults (or six small children)  tried to join Tío Bruno in the cave, somebody was getting sand in their eyes. Tía Leandra opted out, correctly guessing that Mirabel would want one of her parents with her. Julieta sighed heavily, and opted out as well, since she had apparently already seen the vision.

Mirabel watched her go, nowhere near ready to unpack how she felt about her mother helping to keep this secret. She got it, she did, and she couldn’t imagine what else her they could have done. But it still felt weird knowing her mother had helped keep such a big secret from the rest of the family. From her.

The two women stood in the round doorway, waiting for Tío Bruno to give them the go ahead to close the door.

A large hand landed on her back, and when she turned, her Pá stood next to her. He gave her a soft smile, and she felt her lips tug themselves into a watery smile right back.

“How are you doing?” he asked, keeping his voice low so Tío Bruno wouldn’t hear him from where he was setting up his herbs.

“I-,” she had started to say that she was fine, but she was sick of hearing those words, so instead she said, “I don’t know Pá. I-, díos, I think it’d take me like… a year to figure out everything I’m feeling right now.”

He chuckled, and nodded, pulling her into a side hug. He didn’t say anything, just let her lean on him until Tío Bruno called them over.

They sat in the sand, and her Má slowly closed the door. The last thing Mirabel saw before the room was plunged into near darkness was the concern on her mother’s face. 

“Right, h-hold on,” Tío Bruno said, his silhouette reaching out to either side. The three of them waited in the dark, hands joined while Tío Bruno delved into the future. At first, all she heard was Tío Bruno taking deep, calming breaths, then she felt the wind pick up. Finally, swirls of green appeared in the air, the rest of the sand invisibly circling around them.

Two glowing green eyes appeared in the dark, looking between Mirabel’s and her Pá’s shoulders. Then, Tío Bruno was illuminated by the image behind them, looking grim. 

Mirabel took her own calming breath, then turned to watch the vision unfold.

It was terrible.

It started with the candle toppling over, then the mountains broke in two, Antonio was almost crushed beneath a falling door, and then there was Mirabel, once again standing in front of Casita as it broke and healed behind her.

“Is there more? Is there anything else? S-some clue!? About how to fix all this?” Mirabel called over the wind.

Tío Bruno furrowed his brow, concentrating, but shook his head, “The vision-, it’s not ending by itself, b-but the path forward, I-. I’m flying blind here, I don’t know what way-.”

“The butterfly!” her Pá suddenly called out, pulling his hand from Tío Bruno’s to point. 

Tío Bruno whipped around to see the butterfly, then stood, pulling Mirabel up with him, “The butterfly, of course, follow the butterfly!”

Mirabel led him a few steps forward as the butterfly passed them by, then realized he probably meant that he needed to follow the butterfly using his future vision and not that they literally needed to chase the sand apparition around. Her Pá appeared on her other side, his hands warm and steady on her shoulders.

“Look, the candle,” Tío Bruno narrated, somewhat unnecessarily, “it’s burning brighter!”

“Why?” Mirabel shouted.

At the same time her Pá yelled, “How?”

“I’m looking, I’m looking,” Tío Bruno shook his head again, fingers buried in his hair, his teeth were gritted in either determination or frustration, “it’s all out of order! Everything is jumbled up, there’s so many ways this can go. Wait. Look! Here! This matches your theory Mirabel!”

In the sand, Mirabel and Isabel hugged, and the candle glowed.

“Theory?” Pá asked.

“Pain causes cracks, love heals them,” Mirabel yelled back.

“Heals…? Has this happened before? If the cracks have been forming and healing naturally, what’s changed?” 

“We think it’s something that’s been allowed to fester,” Tío Bruno said, eyes tracking things Mirabel couldn’t see, images half forming in the sand. He was beginning to look a bit gray, and his breaths were getting ragged.

He shook his head again. If his voice wasn’t so raspy, the sound he made next would have been called a groan, and if he wasn’t so gentle, Mirabel would have called it a growl. The sand began to coalesce in front of him.

“There’s too many ways it can go, I can see a lot of ways to make the candle glow brighter, but I don’t know if any of them fix things permanently. But here,” Tío Bruno plucked the tablet out of the air and handed it to Mirabel, “this is where the butterfly leads.”

On the tablet, the butterfly glowed bright gold, perched on a blade of grass. Mirabel stared at it.

“What does that mean?” her Pá asked, looking at it over her shoulder.

Beyond the dim glow of the vision, Mirabel could just barely see Tío Bruno rubbing his head, “As far as I can tell, if you see that butterfly, it means you’re on the right path.”

Mirabel nodded, although she didn’t think her Tío’s eyes were open to see it. 

“Come on hermano,” Pá said, gently taking Tío Bruno by the arm, “let’s get you off your feet.”

“Uh, n-no offense, but I think I’d rather let Mirabel help me. I don’t want to get off my feet uh, accidentally.”

“Well! Bruno, I am shocked! Absolutely shocked that you would imply I-,” her Pá started to joke, then was cut off when he somehow managed to trip over the only rock in the sand, “oof.”

Tío Bruno began coughing, a sound that was suspiciously close to a laugh trying to break free of sealed lips.

Mirabel took her Tío’s arm, leading him towards the door, “Here.”

“Gracias, Mirabel,” he said, managing to get his laughter under control.

Behind them, her Pá sighed, and she could hear him brushing himself off, “I don’t suppose I can convince anyone I did that purely for comedic effect?”

Tío Bruno snorted, “You might convince us to pretend to believe it.”

“That would be most kind of you.”

Tío Bruno opened the door, groaning when he was accosted with the low light of the outside world. Mirabel handed him off to Tía Leandra, who all but hefted him onto her broad shoulders in her rush to coddle her husband. He sighed and tried to grumpily insist he “had been doing this since he was five” and didn’t need her fretting. The effectiveness of his argument was dampened by the way he leaned heavily on her, and into her hands as they massaged his temples.

Meanwhile, her Má rushed forward, arms open, and scooped Mirabel into a hug. “How’d it go? Are you alright?”

“There weren't a lot of answers,” Mirabel said, letting her Má see the vision tablet, “but we think if we see the butterfly then everything will turn out alright.”

“That’s… very vague,” Má said, turning to Tío Bruno with a raised eyebrow, “your visions have never been this vague before.”

“Tell me about it,” Tío Bruno grumbled, resting his head on Tía Leandra’s shoulder, but still gesturing broadly, “I-I think the miracle was showing me uncertainties to try and help? I don’t know, it definitely didn’t feel like a normal vision. That’s all I can tell you.”

“Hm,” her Pá said.

While Tía Leandra cajoled Tío Bruno into eating some of the dried ginger they kept to soothe his stomach, and taking a painkiller, Mirabel and her parents stared at the golden butterfly. Well, her parents might have been staring at it, but Mirabel at least, was staring through it.

No family was perfect, Tía Leandra had always made a point to remind her of that over the years, and there were so many potential small problems that could have developed into large problems to consider.

With that in mind, Mirabel caught her mother up on their current theory, then said, “So, if we’re right, we need to figure out whose pain isn’t healing. Somebody is burying something and allowing it to fester. We need to help them, remind them we love them.”

“It could be a combination of a bunch of little problems that have festered into medium problems,” Tía Leandra pointed out, “if say, half the family has something bothering them that they’re not sharing with anyone else, that could look like one big problem.”

Mirabel nodded slowly, although something about that didn’t sit just right. She turned it around in her head for a second, then was distracted by the entire house groaning and shivering.

“We need to hurry,” Má breathed.

“Sounds to me like our best bet is to divide and conquer,” Pá agreed.

“Right. Ok, right. Pá, you need to talk to Luisa about taking more time off,” Mirabel said, reviewing where she’d seen the cracks, “Má, can you check if Dolores and Mariano have worked things out? Somebody should talk to Gabriel about how overprotective he is, I mean I get why, b-but still. A-and Tía Pepa is under way too much pressure to keep her emotions in check, so another grown up should probably talk to her. And Isabela! I’ll talk to Isabela.”

“I’ll talk to Pepa,” Tío Bruno volunteered, meekly raising a hand, “I can probably annoy her into letting go a little.”

“Then I’ll talk to Gabe,” Tía Leandra said, helping Tío Bruno stand and pulling him towards the stairs.

“Can’t we take the nice dark tunnels?” he whined.

“Do you trust them not to cave in on top of us right now?” Tía Leandra pointed out.

“Well, no. But at least it would make the headache stop.”

[enjomo-arch]

Such  a  thing  would  go  unexpected.  Anyone  who  ever  heard  his  name  certainly  in  this  life  would  not  expect  that  the  same  sinister  pirate  who  is  wanted  practically  all  over  the  world  is  actually  a  good  dancer.  Altrough  it  wasn't  a  thing  Ace  would  go  and  babble  about  when  it  came  to  his  personal  experience,  Sanji  really  looked  eager  to  learn.  Luffy  probably  told  him  about  it,  or  was  able  to  deduce  it  himself  as  Ace  was  able  to  entertain  the  crew  with  dance  moves  during  parties  and  camping.  More  for  fun  than  anything  but,  it  was  pretty  endearing  to  see  the  blonde  cook  excited.  It  didn't  escape  him  how  awe  was  painted  on  his  face  when  Ace  performed  the  basic  steps,  really  more  as  a  showcase  than  anything  before  actually  letting  the  cook  get  a  hang  of  it.

The  rhythmic  sound  of  music  coming  from  one  of  the  transponder  snails  quieted  down  when  Ace  finished  his  performance.  Both  hands  rested  on  the  said  hips  that  seconds  ago  were  swaying,  almost  as  if  Ace  was  weightless  and  the  passion  of  his  movements  didn't  fail  to  capture  the  cook's  attention.  

❝  If  that's  what  y'think.  It's  really  simple  basics.  Try  it,  lemme  see  what  y'got.  ❞  Dancing  without  proper  shoes  was  kind  of  a  challenge,  but  Ace  didn't  even  have  them,  natural  body  movement  came  from  the  experience  especially  when  he'd  hum  the  marines  with  Samba  performances  when  he  was  operating  undercover  to  get  the  information  he  needed.  His  finger  tapped  the  snail  to  play  the  music  and  seeing  how  Sanji  practically  immediately  failed  to  impress  him  with  the  observed  movements  he  shook  his  head  with  a  chuckle.  Arms  wrapped  tightly  on  his  chest  as  he  watched  and  couldn't  tell  it  was  as  easy  as  Sanji  thought  it  was.  ❝  It  looks  terrible  lemme  be  honest  y'dance  samba  almost  like  y'have  a  giant  stick  up  your  ass,  cook.  ❞

Ace  got  up  from  his  seat,  approaching  the  blonde  and  putting  a  palm  on  his  waist.  Holding  it  tightly  and  pulling  him  closer  until  the  bottom  part  of  their  bodies  crashed  against  each  other.  ❝  Relax,  we  are  learning,  aight  ?  In  the  end  y'wanna  impress  Nami  so  imagine  I  am  her.  No  need  to  be  shy,  touch  as  much  as  y'want.  ❞  His  words  were  supportive,  or  at  least  tried  to  be  when  Ace  adjusted  their  position  a  bit.  ❝  The  whole  art  is  'bout  bein'  comfortable  with  your  weight.  Make  your  movements  loose,  wanna  try  leadin'  me  or  should  I  ?  ❞

@kickxsscook : "Sure, that looks easy enough." Sanji noted with a faux confidence, after watching Ace perform the basic steps of Samba. The way he moved to the music was so fluid, so natural as if he was born to dance, skill and confidence evident in every sway of his hips. Sanji couldn't help but feel somewhat mesmerized. (It was a dance full of passion, anyone with a sense of beauty would have admired such a performance... Anyone, right?) "Just imagine Nami-san in a tight red dress, a long slit on the side." Yes, that thought should do it. Hands clasped together and he donned an overexcited smile at the mental image. "I can't wait to twirl her around until she has no choice but to fall in love with me." Swooning ceased quickly and he tried to mimic the steps Ace'd shown him earlier. Sanji did have a certain grace about his movements, but frankly, he looked like a ballerina trying to do hiphop for the first time. Not completely hopeless, but certainly strange. "It doesn't look right, does it?"

[ditttiii]

I’m glad you haven’t forgotten me (the granny whose name starts with a k, yep that’s me) Trust me, if you are to blame for such a long time of silence, I’ll eat my shoe. I even have your box of goodies put together but never managed to send it off!!! (Promise I’ll purchase all the edibles and send it off first thing tomorrow!)

I’m sorry to hear that life hasn’t been the best, I know that we all have learning lessons, but some of them just suck and hurt more than they should. I hope that the hurt has faded to a memory that you can put behind you. And while I’d hope to commiserate and offer support for any bad choices, I won’t make you relive them. Instead, tell me about the brightest and happiest choice that you made if you would like to brag about it, I’d love to hear!

Toto has gotten so big!!! Such a fluff ball!!! It looks like he’s enjoying life~ lol. Mischievous huh? Have any stories about that? I’m curious!

Also, you’re such a sap! I’m glad you’re happy to hear from me, but we all know that you’re the light of our lives~

- 🍅🍞XOXO

heck no ofc i havent forgotten r u kidding me 😭 u r one of the very few friends i always think of that i feel like live in my alternate life hidden away from others on this hellfire site. i also am veryy proud of how much i feel like ik about you ahah 💗😚 and noo way you STILL DO?? 😭 istg i will actually lose it if that happens and you will most certainly have to bear my baby ass crying for joy and being sentimental over it all for the rest of our lives aaah i cant even wrap my head around the fact that u still remember let alone have a half packed box maam u r going to make me BAWL 😭💗😭💗😭

*sobs*

those learning lessons do hurt like hell yeah and i m still working through a few things but a lot of that hurt is yeah thankfully a memory. some of the same triggers are still present in my life but the way i handle them has changed for the better i think.

and ooo hmm have i made any bright choices this year lol? but mmmm i think choosing to break up with my boyfriend and realizing my self worth? i really battled with crap mental and physical health this year and the relationship that i had previously so deeply cherished and been vulnerable in turned toxic and very absent and i think finding the strength to pick me and choose me and hold onto my love for me and being real enough to acknowledge what had already fallen apart was...something. it made me grow as a person making that choice and helped me feel as though i have somehow reclaimed my pride and peace from the shambles of that relationship after losing so much in it. the whole thing still hurts but i am also so dang proud of myself. it was my first time being in love maybe and yeah, i m just really protective and proud of me now. which coincidentally, you're on your kid? slaps. the song slaps for me. mother taylor knowing whatsup always 🙇🏻‍♀️

toto issss a giant furr ball now truly like its 6:30 am here and i can hear him barking and running around in the yard out. he feels no remorse ever for waking us up at ass crack dawn to pee lol. and ooo gosh i have so mant toto stories, just the other day he tackled my cook lady to the couch and jumped on her lap to give her lickies and kisses. ofc hes a 30+ kg mammoth with far too much excitement running through his veins so the whole experience was a little less cute for that lady who is now parts soft parts terrified of him. but yea he lovess car rides and will huff and glare and pout until i concede and take him out and ofc coming back it is. never. enough

🤡

my man's not too high on iq.

[claire-starsword]

Bloodline of the Sacred Dragons - Chapter 3-4 & 3-5

The weather didn't look good.

The sky was full of heavy clouds, ready to rain down at any moment.

Having arrived at the east edge of the plains, the people of Pao began setting up their bazaar. They put up frames, and wrapped them up in thick cloth to make walls. Then more fabric was used to cover them and the job was done. In less than an hour, the Pao Train was surrounded by colorful tents that had blossomed like flowers.

For better or for worse, the rain began once the tents were already up.

To the plains, the rain was a blessing.

But to Bleu's group, it was only something to delay their departure.

To confirm that the rain wouldn't let up any time soon, they went to see Queen Koron.

As if she had predicted the time of their visit, she had all her main aides reunited there for an audience.

"Sir Bleu, hurry to Uranbatol as fast as possible. This rain brings misfortune."

Coming from a prophet, those words sounded terribly ominous. That worry wasn't lessened by the panicked soldier running up to them.

"I've came to report. A squad of devils is invading the bazaar right now. There's dozens of them. One is a giant squid monster."

"A kraken. Seems that Ziduur hasn't given up on the Manual yet," Camallia whispered as she heard the report.

"Are these the devils that crossed the ocean to steal the Manual? In that case, we have to make them regret challenging us."

Queen Koron turned to her aides, her right arm pointing energetically to each of them. The bright blue shawl covering up to her fingers flapped, exposing her sleeveless emerald dress with golden embroidery.

"Take out our soldiers and wipe the enemies out. We'll gather all civilians in the Pao Train and then station it away from the battlefield."

The people hurried away to fulfill Koron's orders.

"Is it possible to see the enemies from the head car?"

"Yes," a soldier from Koron's personal guard answered firmly.

"Then, please follow me. Sir Bleu, you and your group shouldn't leave this train."

"No, we will fight too," Bleu said to the queen.

"That won't do. Leave this matter to us."

"No, those who can fight shouldn't be wasting time here. I'm leaving the Manual to Karin. Tyrin, Randolf, Guntz, Camallia, let's go."

Calling his companions, Bleu made his way to leave the room.

"Wait, I'll go too," Karin stopped him.

'Why can't I go but Camallia can?', she accused in her mind.

"You protect the Manual," he told her, and took the others outside. Koron only called for Guntz to stop.

"I have a request for Sir Guntz. Please come with me."

Taking him with her, the queen went to the head car. Karin, Krin and Karna, having been left behind, followed them without being told no.

***5***

Swinging its ten legs full of suction cups, the kraken pounded the tents repeatedly as it advanced.

It was a monster from the ocean, the depths of it no less, and would never come to the surface by itself. The land wasn't its territory. As proof of it, it couldn't support its huge body, dragging itself through the ground slowly.

This was all in vain, thought Ziduur as he stared at the summoning circle he had inscribed in the ground with his own blood.

He certainly would have the upper hand if attacking them at sea. But, he was afraid of losing the Manual in the waters. Finding the semi-transparent object there would be near impossible.

If he didn't come back with the Manual, his master would destroy him. For sure.

Anxious, Ziduur decided to rush things.

At least the rain, that he had brought down using more of the Devil Jewel's power, was washing away the magic circle he used to summon the kraken and the other monsters.

"Go, steal the Manual, and kill the Sacred Dragon and all his followers."

Ziduur ordered the devils shaking his left arm, the only one he had left. The monsters advanced towards the Pao Train. They were half men half-fish known as soulsowers, and purple worms and gargoyles, with the kraken as their main force.

The soldiers of Pao were well ready to welcome them.

They dodged the anemone-like feelers of the purple worms and stabbed them with their lances, and cut down the hard scales of the soulsowers with their Battle Axes.

The problem were the gargoyles. Bleu was good against flying enemies like them, but they were too many. The ones he failed to finish off began chasing the retreating train. Bleu went after them, and the kraken after him, knocking down the soldiers in its way.

Its many legs, ondulating heavily like waves of a storm, stretched towards Bleu. If caught by one of those suction cups, he would be slammed down to the ground with no escape. Bleu made the best of his flying skills to fly around the kraken. Its huge body also proved itself terribly resistant to Bleu's lightning breath.

"Let's hit it while it's chasing Sir Bleu," Tyrin shouted. He was leading soldiers carrying Buster Shot cannons loaded with explosive bullets.

Estimating the timing of Bleu's and the soldiers' actions, he cast a Freeze spell. The cold storm assaulted the kraken while turning the falling rain into a hail. A soft part of the monster's body couldn't stand the attack and froze, white. The soldiers concentrated their shots there. The power of their weapons, built in Prompt thanks to the legacies of the Ancients, smashed the kraken's frozen skin.

Leaking blue blood, the monster's anger changed its color to black, and released its poisonous ink, the Aqua Breath, in the direction of Tyrin and the soldiers.

A soldier failed to dodge and was completely covered in the ink, perishing.

"Are you okay, Tyrin?"

Randolf came by after cutting a purple worm into slices, grabbing Tyrin's arm and carrying him to a safe place.

"Couldn't you be a little more gentle?" Tyrin yelled, with water dripping down his beard like a waterfall, and covered in mud. If he had enough energy to complain then he was just fine, Randolf laughed.

"Are you two alright?" Bleu had come back, worried. "Where's Camallia?" He asked, not seeing the girl there.

"She went after the gargoyles, to protect the train. Leave that place to the girls," Randolf said, pointing to the Pao Train, and then the kraken with his thumb, "our priority is doing something about that monster."

Water came down with no mercy on his open mouth.

The train's large shape could be only be dimly seen in the pouring rain. Because of that, it looked farther away than it really was, and Bleu felt anxious. An indescribable fear ran through his veins at the realization that he had left Karin somewhere he couldn't reach.

"Don't worry, Queen Koron and Camallia will handle the girls and the Manual somehow. You heard the King of Bustoke, you don't fight by yourself. We gotta do what we can in our area. Right now, that's defeating that monster," Randolf shouted, sensing Bleu's fear. The rain was so strong that being that loud was the only way to talk.

"Alright, let's do it Tyrin's way one more time. Randolf, you lead the remaining knights and open further the wound they made before. I'll deal with its movements and poison somehow."

Giving these short orders, Bleu flew once again.

Translation notes:

Devil Jewel is written 悪魔のジュエル, with my translation being as literal as it can be (I guess Devil's Jewel could also work, but my translation feels better as a name). However, this is exactly what the Jewel of Evil is called in japanese SF2 as well. They're clearly not the same jewel, as that one is blue, but I figured I'd note that.

Soulsowers. If you don't remember, they are fish enemies from SF2, and I'm using the same name the localization gave them so people can recognize them right away. Their japanese name however is completely different, インスマンス (Insumansu). The term seems to come from the H. P. Lovecraft novel "The Shadow Over Innsmouth", which features fish-faced people. The term インスマス面 (Innsmouth-face, sometimes spelled as インスマウス面 instead) seems to have become a general term for describing characters with fish-faces, or just distorted faces with wide eyes spread too far from each other, or at least that's the gist i got browsing pixiv and nnd. So that mostly explains the name, but I couldn't figure out if the spelling used here is another known alternative spelling or something unique to Shining. Don't ask me where the localization got soulsower from, though. I tried looking the term up and, I just get actual SF2 results lol.

In SF2, the kraken has eight legs and ten arms, here no distinction was made between arms and legs.

Also, Aqua Breath is not poisonous there, but I totally understand the writer changing it to something more threatening and deadly than bubbles. Curiously, Final Conflict, which was released a year after this novel, did include a kraken enemy variant in a different color that had poison attacks. Coincidence? Most likely, but why would I pass an opportunity to mention Final Conflict.

I'm somehow not done talking about the kraken, did you know that it really is coded to be weak to ice magic in SF2? But you don't have access to ice magic in that part of the game so it goes wasted. This was pointed out in at least one strategy guide so the writer might be referencing it. On the other hand though, Freeze is just supposed to be Tyrin's specialty anyway.

[lilaconion]

Both Can’t Stand Not Fighting

Crosshair x reader on Pabu

Crosshair, having agreed to return to Pabu with his brothers, didn't realise how incompatible he truly was with civilian life. He knew it would be hard but he'd at least expected to finally be able to sleep well. His new bed was a lot comfier than the bunks he'd lived in from birth and certainly a lot comfier than sleeping on whatever they could get their hands on out in the field. He finally broke and, instead of trying to sleep, he went on a night walk. He hadn't been expecting to hear faint music as he got closer to the docks. "If 'I love you' was a promise, would you break it, if you're honest?" A woman's voice sang from the speaker that the music came from. As he descended the steps, he saw the silhouette of someone and something in their hand that moved too fast for him to identify. He made sure to stay quiet, wanting to observe what the person was doing.

As he got the the bottom of the steps and sunk into the cover provided by the giant imposing walls. That was when he realised that he did actually recognise the person. Most of the people on Pabu had blended together but the woman was one he recognised without even being properly introduced to. The movements slowed and he finally saw that the thing she was handling was a stick around the same length as her height. She made it turn slowly in a clockwise direction on an open palm above her head whilst turning her entire body 180 in the anti-clockwise direction. She suddenly clenched the stick and slowly passed it down from her head to hips with intricate movements and bold flourishes. The more it passed between hands, the faster the stick got until it went back to the speed he'd seen it go before. The moon and its reflection on the ocean. The beautiful dock and the way the small amount of light lit everything perfectly. They were just little bonuses that Crosshair didn't care about much compared to watching the beautiful movements the woman made with the stick.

(Y/N) had a strange feeling for a moment that she was being watched. It being night made her ignore the feeling until she considered it might be the clone that had only been brought to the island some days prior. She paused and turned to the pillars and steps. She squinted for a moment before saying, "You can't adjust either, can you?" She hoped that it really was the new clone and not just empty space or, even worse, someone else. "Perceptive." A slow, cold voice teased. She laughed to herself a little. "Well, it'll be nice to have company for once." She walked to her speaker, turning it off and placing her stick next to it. "Crosshair, right?" He confirmed and took a couple of steps into the moonlight. She could finally see his face properly and looked into his eyes. They were tired like hers. "Well, Crosshair, let's sit." She made a point to enunciate his name fully.

They sat next to the water and after a while of silence (Y/N) started. “It was the separatists with me. Getting the people to cooperate was the only thing convincing them not to slaughter us all.” She looked away from the ocean and toward Crosshair. Upon seeing his questioning look, she continued. “I was the head of my planet’s honour guard. The separatists overthrew our republic loving leader and were ready to kill the rest of us to take our weapons technology. So I betrayed everything I stood for to save my people. I lied and supported them and all my people are dead anyway now. I became a traitor and they still died.” She moved a little closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know what it’s like to be a piece in their game.”

The tears that had already been brimming in Crosshair’s eyes overflowed with her last words. He wanted to talk to his brothers about it. He truly did, but every time he opened his mouth it felt wrong. Finally having someone that understood more than his brothers ever could, made him let the broken shards of his former-self fall. As soon as he started crying, he was embraced. He flinched a little at first before letting it out.

Over the following month, they’d spent most nights together. They’d talk, cry and simply be comforted by the presence of the other. They’d both even fallen asleep on the dock. Despite it being uncomfortable rock, the comfort of Crosshair’s arms and general presence had made it the best sleep she’d had in years.

One night, she finally had the confidence to go through with an idea she’d had. As Crosshair arrived at the dock, she grabbed his hand and pulled him along with her. He let out a confused grunt. “We’re going to fall asleep anyway. So we’re doing it on my bed.” She could’ve worded it better but the nerves didn’t allow her the full function of her brain. She was a little surprised when he didn’t even question it.

When they entered her home, she led him straight to her bed. Despite the initial slight awkwardness, they settled quickly as they had together for the past month. She let out a little contented sigh at having both her comfy bed and Crosshair. She felt his long, trained and deadly fingers gently stroke the side of her face. They pushed back some hair and she looked up at him. He looked down at her and something came over her. She pushed herself up and stole a quick kiss from the man in her bed. Before she could apologise, she felt his hands hold her face as if she was the most precious material in the entire galaxy. He slowly brought his head down and gave her a similarly innocent and soft kiss. The only difference was Crosshair’s kiss lasting longer. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” She giggled a little, mostly excited. He moved in close and let his fingers gently dance across her cheek. “I’m going to kiss you again.” He warned and she brought herself closer to him, ready to be kissed again. She finally had her crush holding her on her bed.

From that night forward, Crosshair would sleep in (Y/N)’s bed and they would both finally be able to sleep well again.

[mikeisafighter]

Power Rankings

Let’s go to it.

1. Eagles - Well, they’re the best for a reason right now. Could’ve dropped them because of a loss, but it wasn’t quite enough

2. Bengals -  3. Bills - Whoever wins this game next week will probably be in good position to have top seed in the AFC

4. Chiefs - Kansas City needs to be a little more sound offensively. Next week they should ROFLStomp all over Denver.

5. 49ers - I am a 49ers fan but this is as high as I’m having them until the top 4 teams above lose another game and they keep winning.

6. Vikings - Minnesota the one score dominators lol. They need to be more assertive. Last time they won by more than 1 score? Against the Packers, their next opponent.

7. Cowboys - It’s a shame that Dallas is having a strong year, they’re just stuck in a brutal division.

8. Chargers - Justin Herbert is playoff bound finally.

9. Ravens - They desperately need Lamar Jackson back if they’re gonna be a threat to win.

10. Giants - No need to panic, as long as they win next week they’re back in the playoffs.

11. Jaguars - Here comes Jacksonville, looking like a threat to make the playoffs and go on a run. Their next game doesn’t really matter too much, it all depends on the following week against the Titans

12. Titans - See above (Titans are in freefall tho, but they should be OK heading into the Week 18 finale)

13. REDSKINS - The REDSKINS have to hold off Packers, Lions and Seahawks Oh My. Can they do enough to make it? Trust level is pretty low now in them

14. Jets - I know you’re thinking, WTF Jets over Miami? Well, I have reasons. Jets are playing better defensively than the Dolphins right now. Offensively, uh yeah.

15. Buccaneers - By default, a division leader has to be in my top 16. Still, it’s the Bucs. They haven’t looked good, at ANY point. There’s still time to go on a good run though, but not much. Is this Brady’s last hurrah?

16. Dolphins - YES I know the Dolphins are still playoff bound too but they look cooked. 4 straight losses and they’re playing awful at the wrong time. Don’t be surprised if they end up 8-9.

17. Lions - Still going strong as a whole, they are on that playoff doorstep. They just need to kick it down rather than try to use a toy knife.

18. Seahawks - They should be applauded for having a solid year, but it looks as if Geno Smith is back to a pumpkin as their playoff push is all but over. Unless he beats his former team.

19. Packers - Cannot quite put them among the top of the 7-8s just yet. They need to be better overall as a whole. Still they’ve gone 4-7 since their 3-1 start.

20. Steelers - If by some miracle they make the playoffs, the Dolphins should trade Tua. lol

21. Patriots - I refuse to believe this team is completely done but next week is an elimination game for them. Lose and they’re out

22. Panthers - Win out and they’re in, how dumb is that? Beat the Bucs next week and the NFC South is in their grasp.

23. Raiders - Somehow this team isn’t dead yet but it’s on life support.

24. Saints (See #22) - They still have a pulse but they might want to draft another QB for 2023.

25. Rams - They finally woke up and laid a thumping, to a terrible team. A win is a win though.

26. Falcons - They just couldn’t do enough. 5-10 is certainly not gonna get it done and because Bucs/Panthers is next week, Falcons are out of playoffs.

27. Cardinals - They’ve looked like crap all season. A major step back for a team expected to contend for a playoff spot.

28. Bears - Justin Fields may be one year away from really taking this team somewhere. Just get some good pieces and they could challenge for the division.

29. Texans - Yes I know, a 2 win team this high? They’ve actually done pretty well the last few weeks, and it’s enough for me to bump them up here.

30. Colts - They’re a mess, period. They didn’t really show up against the Chargers, still stewing from that meltdown v.s. the Vikings. The Jeff Saturday experience closes in about 2 weeks.

31. Browns - The DeShaun Watson experience is already a disaster. They should have never traded 8 picks for him and instead all Cleveland did was boost Houston’s future. Now Cleveland is already a PR nightmare thanks to Cleveland brass’s stupidity. Oh and they’re out of playoff contention too.

32. Broncos - I mean, as bad as Cleveland’s been, Denver’s been an absolute dumpster fire. Rookie head coach fired, the less said the better. Let’s move on.

33. Georgia Bulldogs - Maybe they could win a game against Denver LMAO

[sekhisadventures]

A Barrel of Hozen

Stormstout Brewery, Valley of the Four Winds

Jaie wasn’t sure what she’d expected of joining the Alliance… she hadn’t expected to wind up beginning her travels with her own homeland of Pandaria for one. She also hadn’t expected the nightmarish tales of the Sha to have been anything more than fables to scare cubs into behaving themselves.

“LOOK OUT DAMMIT!” shouted a gruff dwarven voice as a sudden burst of light covered the monk’s body, snapping her out of her daze just as a barrel smashed into it, the wooden planks harmlessly shattering as the brew inside splashed down onto the floor infront of her. She let out a yelp of shock and stumbled backwards, gripping her fighting staff as Dareley yelled to her. “Wake up lass! I know yer new but these bloody things’ll have yer head off if ya let ‘em!”

She shook her head, looking around at a huge storage room. All around them on the barrels, in the rafters, and on the machinery, were the monkey-like hozen, but they all paled to the massive one infront of the group.

Jaie shook herself and slipped into the tiger stance as Nelen readied another blast of arcane energies, Shalandrae channeling the power of nature into a burst of healing to restore Dareley’s body, which had suffered several nasty scratches and a couple bruises as well.

The shouts of the other hozen echoed around the room, creating a massive cacophony as they shrieked and roared in support of their giant leader who stood easily three times taller than any of them (four times in Dareley’s case.) It’d have been really impressive if the hozen could have agreed on a battle chant. As it was, every hozen was shouting their own.

“GROOK THE DOOKERS!”

“OOK ‘EM IN THE DOOKER BIG OOK!”

“GROOK ‘EM! GROOK ‘EM RIGHT IN THE OOKIN’ FACE!”

“THROW YER DOOK AT ‘EM BIG OOK!”

“DOOK OOK GROOK DOOK OOOOOOOOK!” (This hozen had already had quite a lot of beer and seemed to have forgotten how words worked entirely.)

And so on, leading to just a ton of noise echoing around the cavernous room as they tried to fight their way through to the center of the brewery where Chen and Li-Li had already ran ahead. Chen wanted answers from his relations as to why the brewery bearing the proud name of Stormstout was overrun with drunken hozen and mad virmen, but the owner had flat out refused to tell him anything at the door.

Yes, Jaie wasn’t sure what she’d have expected. But fighting a giant drunk hozen in a mob of smaller, equally drunk hozen, was not something she’d have ever guessed. Nor would meeting someone else from the Wandering Isles.

Halfhill Village, Several Hours Earlier

Jaie looked around the village with a smile, her fighting staff balanced on her shoulder. She always felt at home on a farm, having grown up on one back on the Wandering Isle. The smell of freshly watered soil, green growing things, and produce cooking at the market made her rather homesick really. Beside her walked Nelen, Shalandrae, and Dareley. Dissonantia was presumably somewhere, but she apparently would often do her own thing whether the others wanted her to or not. Something about the Sha had really interested the warlock, which worried both the paladin and the druid.

However at the moment that didn’t matter. Halfhill was the center of Pandaria’s breadbasket, and the scents from the marketplace were making all four stomachs growl eagerly.

“So, who wants ta go sample th’ local produce?” asked Dareley with a grin as the scent of what seemed to be stew with some sort of savory meat wafted over.

“I could certainly use something to take my mind off what happened in the Jade Forest…” nodded the mage, Nelen still troubled by what had been unleashed. The group had helped to drive the Sha of Doubt back out of the Jade Serpent Temple, along with several other adventurers, but it had been a very close thing indeed.

Shalandrae just smiled and nodded, the druid’s bare feet seeming to knead at the ground a bit, as if enjoying the feel of the warm, healthy soil almost like a tree’s roots would.

As they walked along however Jaie paused, her ears twitching a bit. “Huh?” she looked over, hearing some raised voices.

“… I don’t know what he was so stubborn about. We’re kin, and he just shoved me out the door without even hearing me out!” sighed an older Pandaren voice as a younger one piped up.

“It sounds really weird. I mean, everyone knows Stormstouts got beer brewing in their blood… at least, you sure say it often enough for everyone to know.” giggled a girl’s voice.

“Exactly Li-Li! We should go back there and insist he speak with us! He’s family after all!” the older voice replied.

“… Stormstout?” muttered Jaie, “It couldn’t be…” she paused, then jogged down the path towards them as the others saw her going, then quickly followed.

“Jaie? What is it?” asked Shalandrae, the druidess looking puzzled as Jaie padded around the corner to find a tall pandaren man in black, a large straw hat resting on a rope tied around his neck. Sitting nearby on a pile of beer barrels was a younger pandaren cub in pink silks, the girl looking up curiously as the adventurers came close.

Jaie’s face broke into a grin as she saw him, “I knew that voice sounded familiar! You’re Chen Stormstout!" she said excitedly.

The pandaren man turned to her and cocked his head. “Why, yes. I am. I’m sorry, have we met?” he asked.

“Yeah! I mean, it was a long time ago though…” replied Jaie, “I’m from the Wandering Isle! You were friends with my father, Shi-Won Swiftpaw!”

At this the older man paused, then his face spread into a wide smile, “AH! You’re Shi-Won’s daughter, Jaie! Why, you were younger than Li-Li last time I saw you!” he chuckled. “What a nice surprise to see you again, how’s your father doing?” he asked.

At this Jaie winced a bit, “Ah, um… actually he passed away a while ago. Virmen attack when they were bringing in the harvest.” she replied.

Chen shook his head at that, sighing, “Really? I am truly sorry to hear that… he was one of my favorite drinking buddies back on the Isle. Still, it is very good to see you again Jaie.” he smiled at her as he looked at the group of adventurers, “What brings you and your friends to Pandaria?” he asked.

Jaie almost began to tell him, but Dareley placed a mailed glove on her hand, “Er, sorry lad. Cannae really talk about it. Alliance business y’see.” he said, giving Jaie a meaningful nod.

Chen may not be with the Horde, but if they knew that the Alliance was in the land seeking the missing Prince Anduin and he got captured then the Horde could beat it out of him if need be.

While they may have recently made a sort of informal partnership with Grimo and Savage United he had no illusions that the rest of the Horde fell under ‘enemies until proven otherwise,' especially after Theramore. Grimo had tried to warn them, but nobody save for Garrosh and his cronies had known about the mana bomb until it was too late.

Chen simply nodded and held up his paws, “I understand. I will not ask further. However…” he looked them over, “I wonder if you could perhaps help me with something?”

The four of them looked at each other, then Shalandrae asked, “… like what?”

Chen nodded, “You see…” and told them of finding out about the brewery from a local homebrewer named Mudmug, meeting his distant relative Gao Stormstout, finding the brewery overrun with wild hozen and virmen, and being all but thrown out the door by Gao.

“… and while I do want to talk to him again, well… there’s quite a lot of them. Even I can’t fight off that kind of mob alone.” he nodded.

Nelen nodded back to them, “Well, we probably should. That kind of infestation could cause all sorts of problems if it spreads beyond the brewery.” he pointed out. “Eventually those virmen would finish off the food inside, and Halfhill would probably be their next target.”

“Aye… ‘n its our duty ta lend aid ta civilians in times o’ war…” added Dareley.

Shalandrae smirked knowingly at her dwarf friend, folding her arms over her chest, “You just want to go sample the brewery’s goods.” she teased, patting him through his pauldron.

The dwarf grinned back, “That, m’dear, is what we call a ‘bonus.’” he chuckled.

Jaie nodded at them, then grinned back at Chen, “Looks like all four of us are in! Lead the way Chen.”

Stormstout Brewery, Presently

Jaie rolled out of the way as another massive barrel crashed into the wall, shaking the entire building as the Hozen charged forward, Dareley ducking down and swinging his shield arm. A burst of light erupted from the shield, like a disc of glowing metal, and slammed into the giant hozen’s ankle, causing it to curse in fury and fall forward as vines erupted from the floor to hold it in place. “NELEN! NOW!” yelled Dareley.

The mage focused, flexing his claws and roaring as a massive icicle formed above him, the hozen’s eyes widening before it suddenly came down.

About five minutes later Jaie got done being sick in the corner.

“Sorry Jaie…” sighed Nelen, the other hozen having scattered after seeing their leader get defeated. “But when it comes to enemies like him you have to take them down fast.”

Jaie just shook herself, “It… was like a giant pumpkin… f-full of red paint…” she muttered, wiping her mouth. That had been quite the thing to see for the inexperienced monk.

Dareley sighed, “Aye lass, first time is always rough. Welcome ta th’ lovely mercenary life.” he said, offering her a bottle of ale he grabbed off a shelf to wash her mouth out with. Jaie took it without comment and downed half the bottle in one go, then spat it out, then downed the rest.

“Right… okay… I’m okay… I’m good… I…” she glanced back at the body of the giant hozen and swore she saw it twitch just a bit. She stood up, her eyes focused squarely on the exit Chen and Li-Li had taken. “Lets just go.” she said bluntly, walking quickly out of the room.

The rest of the brewery was overrun with the virmen that Chen had mentioned, the group finding him and Li-Li fighting them off inside another brewing chamber. This one Jaie had much less difficulty with, but you don’t grow up on a pandaren farm and not sort out a couple virmen in your time. That and they were far less stubborn than hozen. A few well-placed smacks, a big chunk taken out of a tooth, and the virmen fled rather than hold their ground. Food could be found somewhere less painful. By the time they had chased off the rest of them however Chen had already run ahead, the pandaren focused entirely on finding Gao and having it out with him.

When they caught up however Chen, Li-Li and Gao were backed into a corner of the room, the latter cowering behind the former two, and infront of them was a massive creature with a face like a stylized mask and a body of some shimmering amber liquid, bubbles dripping off it’s limbs as it raised them as if to attack.

“What IS that thing?!” gasped Jaie as the group caught up, the monk stumbling to a halt. “Some sort of elemental?!”

Nelen shook his head, “I… it looks like a water elemental, but I’ve never seen that shape before and its too dark for pure water…”

Dareley’s nose twitched however, the dwarf’s eyebrows going up. “Ah’m smellin hops, yeast, barley…” he sniffed again, “… touch o’ pepper, bit of sugar…” his eyes widened. “Bloody FEL that thing’s body is made outta beer! Its not an elemental, its an ALEmental!” he gasped.

Shalandrae shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head, “Sure, why not? We just fought a bunch of drunk monkeys and mad rabbit monsters, why not top today off with a brew-beast?”

At this however the alemental turned around, and Chen saw them. The sleeves and trousers he wore were soaked through with beer as he called out a warning, “Be careful! I can’t hurt it! That thing’s body is too watery to touch!”

The four looked to him, then back at the alemental, which let out an angry cry and surged forward on a stream of bubbles. “Ah shite, SCATTER!” yelled Dareley as they all bolted in different directions. The dwarf stumbled to a halt a bit away and threw another light-shield at the creature, which as Chen warned seemed to splash through one side and out the other. “He’s nae kiddin’, that thing’s body is pure liquid! Shalandrae, Nelen! Do somethin’!” he shouted. Physical attacks were useless, which meant neither he nor Jaie could harm it. Spellcasters would have to find a way to take this down!

Shalandrae slammed her hands together, then pulled them apart to reveal a ball of pure sunlight, throwing it overhand at the giant creature. It blasted through it’s arm, causing a smell of burnt hops to fill the air for a moment as a chunk of it’s limb was blown away, but the rest of the liquid that made it up seemed to flow back into place without any noticeable effect. The creature then turned it’s anger on Shalandrae, the druid barely having time to say ‘oh shit!’ before a massive blast of ale knocked her off her feet and into the wall behind her, drenching her robes through.

“SHALANDRAE!” barked Nelen, looking up at the alemental. “Hrm…” he frowned, narrowing his eyes, then flexing his claws. “It can regenerate too fast to take apart a bit at a time, we need some way to knock it out all at once… JAIE! DARELEY! KEEP IT BUSY! I HAVE AN IDEA!” he called out.

The two looked at him, then back at the alemental. “… easier said than done lad…” muttered the dwarf before he slammed his sword against his shield, making a loud echoing clang. “OI! FIZZY! OVER ‘ERE YA OVERGROWN BREWFEST DECORATION!” he hollered, throwing another light-shield at its head. It passed through that as well, but the creature’s focus turned to Dareley as he rushed off towards the corner of the room. As he did Nelen began to focus his energies, the air around him swirling with arcane power as his eyes flashed from purple to icy blue momentarily.

Dareley raised his shield as the alemental drew closer, glaring at it… and as it raised it’s hands he muttered a prayer and a glowing barrier of light suddenly appeared around him. The alemental slammed it’s hands forwards as another blast of brew shot forwards, spraying into him like a firehose as the shield around him flickered ominously. “Shite shite SHITE! NELEN! WHATEVER YER DOIN’ HURRY IT THE FEL UP!” he called, then yelped as the shield failed and he was blasted backwards into another wall, and halfway through it as the timbers gave way!

“Dareley!” shrieked Jaie, rushing over to him, “Are you alright?” she gasped, looking into the hole in the wall that the paladin's impact had created.

Dareley was half in and half out of the wall, his legs dangling from the hole as the smell of fresh ale filled the area. “… pull me out or pass the peanuts.” he muttered, sounding rather dazed.

Jaie moved to reach for him, then yelped and rolled backwards as another blast of suds smashed into the wall where she was moments ago. Then rolled again as another splashed onto the floor, soaking it through. Dareley and Shalandrae were down, it was up to her and Nelen now!

As she did however she suddenly became aware that the room felt oddly cold…

Nelen was standing in a circle of power, a swirling vortex of super-cold air between his claws, the floor and wall and even his fur frosting over. “GET READY!” he roared as the alemental turned its head towards him, then the worgen howled like an angry wolf and his arms shot towards the creature. A blast of air worthy of a Northrend blizzard erupted from his hands, hitting the alemental full in the chest as it cried out angrily and tried to rush forwards, only to find itself slowing more and more with each second, until…

The creature’s body shone like glass, a statue stuck in mid-slosh, icicles hanging off its limbs and chin. It's arms were outstretched and reaching for Nelen, but it couldn't move a single inch! The worgen's magic had frozen the alemental soild!

Nelen looked to Jaie, then barked, “SMASH IT!”

Jaie’s head snapped around, then she smacked her cheeks and focused her chi, running towards the frozen alemental even as it began to shake. She channeled her chi into her legs, leapt into the air, and shot out one leg as she flew forward and, with a sound like a window being hit with a hammer, cracks shot along the alemental’s form and the pandaren burst out the back, rolling to a halt and by sheer dumb luck ending up standing as it shattered into a thousand pieces, clattering to the floor of the brewery.

“Alemental, on the rocks!” she grinned, though her eyes were a bit too wide.

Nelen looked at her, raising his eyebrow, “You’re not going to throw up again, are you?”

“I might!” replied Jaie in a bit of a manic tone, her knees wobbling, then slowly she fell backwards and laid there for a bit until she felt better.

About fifteen minutes later Jaie had quite regained the feeling in her legs and Dareley and Shalandrae had gone to the river to try to wash the ale off, Nelen sitting with the Pandaren until she could catch her breath. “You’re going to have to get used to that. I fought in the Cataclysm and by those standards this is a bit of a wild Brewfest party.” he nodded to her.

“I… I’ll be okay.” she nodded, “But… how, um, how do you deal with… um…” she pointed downwards, to indicate what was left of the hozen they had, well, ‘grook’d.’

Nelen shrugged, “Mostly I think about what they’ll do if I don’t. Those hozen would have wrecked the brewery, then gone on a rampage through the Valley before sobering up. Probably would have torn apart Halfhill and most of the farmland. By taking out their leader we scared them off. The way they scattered they’re likely halfway back to the Jade Forest by now. Just be glad we only had to take out the leader.” he added.

Jaie thought on this for a moment, then nodded. “But… how do you know it’s the right thing to do? I mean, what if we could have just taken him down without killing him?” she asked.

Nelen shrugged, “We didn’t have time to work out how. If we knew going in and had a plan maybe, but we didn’t know the area and we didn’t know if the hozen had taken any of the brewery workers hostage. It was take him down or risk worse. Sometimes, you just have to hope you’re making the right choice.” he replied.

She nodded, “Mmm… well, hopefully that’s the worst we’ll see for a while.” she muttered.

Across the room Chen and Li-Li were talking to Gao, who was still angry but at least grateful for Chen and his allies saving his life. Around him the brewery workers were cleaning up the still-frozen remains of the alemental and trying to repair the damage to the building.

As they did a young pandaren boy of about seventeen picked up part of the frozen alemental and looked it over.

“Hey Zhan-Min! Don’t bother playing with it, just toss it in the barrel with the rest of the bits.” called out another worker.

The teenage pandaren looked over, adjusting his red bandana that he wore to keep his hair out of his eyes, and replied, “Right Yeong-Su! Sorry!” he said, but when nobody was looking he slipped the shard into his pouch instead.

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