#live oaks are kind of what the area i grew up in are known for so i think thatd be fun

[bosspigeon]

what dumb tree/nature name should I give my self-insert Durge?

[urne-buriall]

today in the "our lights in ashes lecture series", also known as "posts absolutely no one asked for": plants!

everything's blooming around me right now so I gotta. to me, setting is key and I have to believe in the place I'm reading or writing about. including local flora makes it feel distinct to me, and was the kind of thing I hoped contributed to making the setting come alive even if you don't know the area or the plants that come up

from chapter 1: They paced through the woods in sight of each other, moving in tandem while covering a wider swathe. Jack appeared in steady flashes between trees, shoes pressing down pine needles and packed dirt. The thick canopy lent the forest a purple gloom, while clusters of pipsissewa and ginseng dotted the lower brush with colour. The green of every leaf deepened as they traversed further into the woods.

these first two examples aren't heavy on symbolism, but they're pretty. and woods aren't only about trees. the lush undergrowth of a Virginia forest with ferns and flowers add such depth.

from chapter 3: One moment they drove through a low-country landscape of oatmeal-brown marsh grass, then they crossed the bridge and a city rose with its handsome old buildings and lush greenery like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Jack looked around with new eyes, taking in a city that entirely lacked the usual commotion and buzz. Shaded streets lined with Southern live oak, their dark reaching branches hanging with Spanish moss.

Southern live oak and Spanish moss! oh boy, you know you're in the South when. it's the way the live oak reaches out and the moss drapes over the branches like a ghost. it lends such a colour to the very atmosphere, this ancient and mysterious green-grey.

from chapter 5: They reached the gulch where the bodies had been found. The whole area crawled with kudzu, enshrouding the trees and the forest floor in vibrant green. An abandoned truck and an even older car had been lost to the gulch in ages past, and now the kudzu threatened to swallow them entire.

okay, now we're in to some more overt symbolism. kudzu, an invasive species, is known as "the vine that ate the South." it's fast-growing and can easily choke out other plants and block their access to resources. this is in a chapter about explicit prejudice and hatred, which endangers diversity and under which none of us can flourish. hatred is a poison and the rise of alt-right extremism concerns me. you want to see what will devour our society? kudzu doesn't seem so bad.

from chapter 6: The twins lived in the bayou, in a white, two-story house with a small porch that had the swing and another balcony on the floor above it. Tall trees shaded it all through the day, and azaleas grew abundantly around the porch steps.

so I'm very fond of azaleas. this was one of the flowers that had more traditional symbolism attached: they are seen to represent familial duty and homesickness, as well as wealth and elegance. this was a great fit for our semi-disinherited twins, Emory and Sawyer. they are also poisonous, which I like for representing the dark and dangerous strain of their familial past. the azaleas represent the way they are still attached to their mother despite everything, and the fact they bother to care for these flowers is a small nod to Mona's far more extensive garden in the next chapter.

from chapter 7: He eventually took a seat within a tiny enclosed arbor, where vines and flowers crawled over the surrounding latticework. A honeybee joined him, investigating the purple beautyberry and blazing star, carving a path through the world that told a story to anyone paying attention.

purple is frequently associated with witchcraft in spn, so I couldn't resist mentioning purple flowers in Mona's garden as a way to code her as magic. as it happens, bees also tend to love purple flowers so Cas isn't complaining. oh, and blazing star is sometimes also called "gayfeather" so there's something in that about gay angels because I'm very mature, I guess.

chapter 7: Golden afternoon light shone in shards through the leaves and boughs of the old magnolia trees, glinting in the glimpses of sky between grey tendrils of swaying Spanish moss.

it just wouldn't be the South if there weren't magnolias. they wouldn't have been in bloom at the time that Dean and Cas are at Mona's, so I did not get to lean into the lovely scent as much as one would like. actually, I tried to be careful with what would theoretically be in bloom or berrying in autumn, when the story takes place. however anyone who knows more about plants must excuse if I stretched seasons too far, writers will absolutely push the limits for the sake of a story.

from chapter 8: He found the swinging sign of the Brass Lantern Inn, surrounded by feathery pink muhly grass.

look at this stuff. it's so dreamy. wispy as pink mist, then catching the light to look like tiny fireworks. the final chapter of our lights in ashes is all about dusk and dawn and is tinted with the colours of sunrise reflecting through the water, gold and pink and orange. (in the first chapter, the hope of daybreak doesn't save a boy from his fate. in the final chapter, daybreak fulfills its promise.) and there may not be fireworks for the Big Damn Kiss at the end, but maybe we got near enough.

[rockandroobuckaroll]

Shyan Mafia AU - Chapter One

This is the first chapter of my first Shyan fic, so any comments/notes would be helpful. I'm currently waiting on an email from A03 to make a new account, so when it's up I'll start uploading this there too.

A couple people asked about this too being @watcher-savage and @celestial-e I apologise in advance for my inability to write chapters less than 5000 words haha

This is a mafia AU where Ryan is a newbie in the mob, looking to gain protection. He’s sent after a guy known only as ‘Legs’ to take care of business... only things aren’t so simple as that. Ryan must lure this ‘Legs’ guy out to some place quiet... but he’s not the only guy in town who’s after him.

Life hadn't been easy for Ryan Bergara. He'd been on his own most of his life, not many friends and he had no family that he was particularly close with. Ryan didn't know what had happened to his parents or younger brother, only that they were six feet under and not by natural causes. It had happened one night when he wasn't home, instead he was out partying with his old friends from college. He'd come home to a sight that caused many sleepless nights, a sight decorated with shades of red that he could never wash out of his clothes.

Ryan had been a paranoid man from that night onwards, afraid he was next on the list and he would be murdered some day soon. It lead him to lead a sheltered life, shut away from friends and remaining family. If he was on his own maybe people would forget he existed entirely. Being alone kept him alive, despite the loneliness it brought him.

It was this loneliness that eventually brought Ryan to a decision that would change his life forever.

Ryan needed protection and he craved a family like the one he used to know and love, and there was a way to kill two birds with one stone;  he did have to admit he must have been crazy to come to the conclusion however. His dad was a wealthy, powerful man, he and his wife had ties to higher ups that they kept secret. Ryan knew they weren't just rumours made up by people in the street, after all he'd been at family dinners where strangers in sharp suits were invited, he'd overheard meetings and phone calls. It was certainly no secret to him that his family were part of the Californian Mafia.

During the day his dad was a humble dentist but by night he was out in a tailored suit, attending meetings and 'taking care of business'. Ryan's mom always joked that his dad was part of the men in black and that he used to go out and hunt aliens and as a child he had believed her. As he grew older and pieced together the truth Ryan thought it was pretty cool what his dad did, although that novelty came to an abrupt end the night they lost their lives.

It was a longshot, but he hoped that the men who used to come round his house for dinner would take him in, train him up, and give him the protection that he needed to sleep at night. He could be brave if he was in the mob, he had to be, and maybe he could finally get some sleep at night. If he couldn't all those years of shutting himself away would have been pointless and Ryan didn't ever want to admit that to himself.

That was how he found himself sat in a leather armchair in a small office, sat opposite a man he recognised from his youth. The man was much older now, hair grey and he wore glasses that weren't previously needed, but he still had the same believable kindness behind his eyes - though Ryan knew better than to trust that kindness.

"I'm glad you came to us Ricky, we can give you the protection you need." The elderly man sat behind the desk spoke, his voice smooth and soothing. He may not look it, but the man in front of him was the big boss of the Californian Mafia, overseeing the ins and outs of the entire organisation; he was known only as Father Thomas. He was a man no one wanted to cross.

"Um, my name is Ryan, sir." Ryan corrected him, realising afterwards that he probably should have known better. If the movies were anything to go off he shouldn't talk back to these kinds of people.

"Ryan, my child, you don't want to give out your identity to men who are going to use it against you. From now on if someone asks for your name, you tell them its Ricky: Ricky Goldsworth." The Father had a point, although Ryan assumed it would take him a while to get used to that alias - he would probably have to write it down. "You're new here and you want our protection... but not everything is free, Ricky."

"I'll do anything, sir." He was honest when he said 'anything'. Ryan wouldn't have resorted to the mafia if he wasn't willing to leave his old miserable life behind him.

Father Thomas leaned forward, elbows resting on the dark oak desk and his chin atop his interlaced fingers. "Anything?" He looked Ryan in his eyes, peering deep into his very soul. "Here's the thing, Ricky. I believe you when you say you'll do anything, I do... but I don't know if my good friends will be willing to back you up. So I've got a little job for you. It's a risky job, you'll be tested for sure, but if you pull it off I can make you very wealthy very quickly... and throw in a couple of trained assistants of mine to keep you safe at night." The Father leaned back again much to Ryan's relief and opened up one of the heavy looking drawers on the desk, pulling out a large, beige binder and flipping through before taking a page out.

The paper had a personal file, a photo attached with a paperclip at the top. There wasn't much known about him, no name to call him; only an alias was written down. "This here guy is a bit of a troublemaker for us. We've lost many good men to him, he's cunning and has a perfect record when it comes to his work."

"And you want me to..."

"To take care of business, yes." Ryan suddenly wasn't so sure. He picked up the photo of the man. He had dark hair slicked back and had a slender build. He was wearing a navy suit with a white shirt only half buttoned up and sunglasses covering his eyes. "We don't know all that much about this guy, only that he goes by the nickname 'Legs' and that he's extremely hard to catch. If you go after him your loyalty and dedication to us will be tested, naturally, as well as your skill and methods. I can't promise you'll ever come back though... so what's it going to be, Ricky?"

Ryan thought over carefully. He couldn't deny his heart was pounding so loud in his ears that Father Thomas could probably hear it, nor that his hands shook slightly as he held the photo. He was terrified of what this 'Legs' could do to him, or what he had done to others. He was also terrified of his own desperation. He was scared of how tired of being paranoid he was, how tired he was of being scared and alone. If things didn't work out and he ended up getting killed... would that really be so bad?

A snarky voice in the back of Ryan's mind told him he should have probably gone back to his therapist instead of paying the mob a visit, but it was far too late to listen to logic and reasoning now.

"Where was he last sighted?" Ryan bravely spoke up, gaining a small smile from the man in front of him. Ryan knew whichever way things went it would be a win-win for him - though deep down he had a feeling things were more realistically lose-lose, it wouldn't hurt to at least try.

"Yesterday in New Orleans, that's when that photo was taken." Ryan placed the photo down on the desk and looked over the rather empty file, he'd be going into this practically blind. "We've got an unused hotel in that area you can use to take care of him, one of my boys will give you the keys. We can get you a flight too, private of course."

"New Orleans..." It was a long way from home, although Ryan was almost glad of that. He'd only left his home state of California a few times and only ever as a child, on holidays and such. Hopefully leaving the state would do his mental health some good. "When's the flight?"

"We can get you in the air by six in the morning, you'll have all day to get your bearings and get to work." Ryan hadn't expected it to be so soon, although he supposed he didn't have to make up any excuses to anyone about where he was going. His job at the local theatre realistically wouldn't get him anywhere anyway and they could easily replace him in an instant. He had hoped one day to be making his own movies, or at the very least work on big productions, but it was a difficult industry to crack.

"Six AM..." He nodded to himself. "Okay... I'll do it."

Ryan was restless that evening, barely touching his bland microwave meal and constantly reorganising his suitcase, filling it with only the essentials and his best sneakers. He showered and sat on the edge of his bed beside his opened suitcase until early hours in the morning, going over what he had to do. The plan was relatively simple: find this 'Legs' guy, take him to the hotel and... it was the last step Ryan was having trouble coming to terms with.  He knew he would have to kill some guy he had never met. He probably had a family, maybe a wife or a child - at the very least he probably lived alone with a cat. Could he really do that? Could he really take someone's life?

He had opened his laptop and looked at Google Maps for a solid hour, trying his best to memorise the streets of New Orleans, the routes he would have to take to get to the old hotel the mafia had given him the key for. He didn't know how he was even find 'Legs', New Orleans is a big city after all, though he had been tipped about a diner that the man had been seen frequenting over the past few weeks so hopefully that was a start. Part of him hoped he never ran into him and that he would just have to live a quiet life in Louisiana, surely the deep south couldn't be all bad.

Hoping that he had everything memorised, Ryan decided that there was no point in getting any sleep now, he could just hopefully sleep during the three hour flight. He changed into something that would make him look like he was going on a business trip, something the guys at the office had informed him would be his cover up. If anyone asked him he was taking care of the hotel to prepare it for new ownership, that was all they needed to know. He settled on a silver suit and with a black tie, hoping he didn't look too affiliated with any gang; he didn't want to go over the top and wear a fedora with sunglasses, that was way too cliché.

By four in the morning there was a knock on his door and before he knew it he was on a private jet making his way to New Orleans. Ryan watched as the sleepy city slowly awoke, the sun slowly making it's way above the horizon. It didn't take long for his lack of sleep to catch up with him and a few minutes of resting his eyes managed to turn into him sleeping through his short flight. The next thing he knew was that he was being prodded awake by the pilot.

The pilot in front of him was a, quite frankly, dodgy looking, slender individual. His dark hair was greasy and slicked back and his eyes were just as dark as his hair. His skin was tan with little blemishes on his sunken face and his nose was crooked, his teeth matching the nature of his nose and were in desperate need of a dentist. He wore a pinstripe suit, black with thin cream stripes, over-polished shiny black dress shoes and a cufflink shaped like a red dice adorned the white shirt that peaked out from his slightly short sleeves. He was almost the complete opposite of Father Thomas.

"We're here." He sounded just as slimy as he looked, Ryan couldn't believe he actually fell asleep knowing it was only the two of them on the plane; he would be sure to check for any scars when he was alone later on to see if he had any missing kidneys. "You know what you're doing, right?"

"Yeah." A simple yet effective lie.

"Good. Then get off my jet." He ushered Ryan and his luggage out, the poor man still half asleep and aching from sitting in one spot for three hours. "If you by some miracle get the job done give Father Thomas a call, I'll come back and fetch you. Good luck."

With that hurried goodbye, Ryan was left on his own in a city he didn't know. He knew he should have been nervous, probably terrified given what he was supposed to be doing there, yet the only thing he felt was hungry. He'd skipped breakfast and barely ate any of his dinner the night before. He decided the best thing to do was find somewhere to get a bite to eat and ask around for any clues where to find this 'Legs' guy; Father Thomas had informed him of the perfect place.

Diners were always a hit and miss experience, although the small building that had been recommended by Father Thomas seemed to house a semi-decent establishment. It had a pleasant scent of coffee and bacon, mixed with a hint of pine from the décor. It was cosy, welcoming and much to Ryan's relief: empty. Not to mention, apparently 'Legs' had been sighted coming in and out of there all week. It was the perfect spot to start looking.

He sat at one of the barstools and looked up at the menu, mouth already beginning to salivate at just the stock photos of the food they served. "Hiya, hon, what can I get you?" A young, blonde waitress appeared from the beaded curtains, a smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes; a symptom of an early shift in the quieter outskirts of the city.

"Hi, can I get a black coffee and some pancakes please." At this point Ryan would eat anything, even if it came out of the trash.

"Sure thing, hon." She scribbled down the order and took the payment before pouring Ryan his coffee from the glass pot. The first sip burned his tongue but it helped wake him up a little. A few minutes later the waitress returned with a plate of pancakes drizzled in maple syrup with bacon placed on top: it looked picturesque.

"Thank you." Ryan remembered the manners his mom had taught him many years ago before shoving far too much into his mouth, closing his eyes as he savoured his first mouthful. Before he could ask the woman about places of interest that may attract mob guys or murderers (or both) the bell on the door rang, meaning another customer had walked in. Ryan didn't turn around to meet them, instead taking another sip of his coffee.

The customer sat two seats away from him, the waitress smiling at him the same way she had at Ryan. "Hiya hon, the usual?"

"Yes please." The man spoke in a quiet but kind voice, although his accent stuck out to Ryan. It wasn't that it was a strong accent, quite the opposite actually. It certainly wasn't from around here. "Thank you."

The waitress disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving the two men in silence. Ryan took another sip of his coffee as the man tried to start up a conversation. "Pancakes? Now that's in poor taste. It's waffles all the way." Ryan almost spit out his coffee - not at the comment but at the man's appearance.

This was the guy from the photo: this was 'Legs'.

"You alright? Don't choke." He laughed at Ryan, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he did. Ryan had to fight every instinct not to bolt out of the diner there and then. Here he was, trying to enjoy his breakfast and now all of a sudden he was having a conversation with a murderer... well, he would have to respond in order to have a conversation.

"Uh..." Ryan struggled to find the words to say. "Pancakes are way better." He settled on, 'Legs' shaking his head and turning back to the waitress as she brought him a plate of waffles before disappearing back into the kitchen. "Is that how you like to talk to strangers?"

"Oh, sorry..." He seemed to become shy all of a sudden as he realised his conversation starter had been a bit rude. "You don't sound like you're from around here. You here on business?" It was a fair question to someone who was dressed in a suit although Ryan could feel beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck. Did he know? Could this guy sniff out someone in the mob at a glance? He was a professional from what Ryan had heard, for all he knew the guy had spotted the plane landing and followed him there, planning to kill him behind the diner.

"Yeah... something like that." Ryan cleared his throat and steadied his hands on his coffee cup. They had begun to shake, betraying him when he needed to remain calm.

'Legs' hummed a response and begun digging into his waffles. Ryan needed to think quick. He needed a reason to keep him around, not let him out of his sight. The hotel key Father Thomas had given him felt like it was burning into his leg like a beating heart under the floorboards, reminding him of all his troubles. He was starting to panic already. He really wasn't cut out for this despite his efforts to try and convince himself otherwise. "Hey, don't mean to sound rude but are you alright? You don't look well all of a sudden."

"I'm fine." Ryan's voice shook. Shit. He couldn't afford a panic attack. "I just need some air." Ryan stood from his seat and rushed out the door, his knees feeling like jelly. He took in a few deep breaths as he leaned against the wall, hoping he was just far enough outside that 'Legs' couldn't see him. Fuck. If Ryan couldn't even sit next to the guy and have breakfast and a friendly chat how the hell was he supposed to lure the guy to some abandoned hotel and murder him in cold blood?

"You want me to ask the waitress for some water or something?" 'Legs' poked his head around the door, "You gonna hurl, dude?" 'Oh great', Ryan thought begrudgingly: 'of course he's a nice guy'. No, no he isn't, Ryan had to remind himself. This guy has killed people.

"I'm okay." Ryan kept lying to himself, lowering himself so he was crouching down, his back against the wall. 'Legs' crouched down next to him, his hand on his back to try and comfort him.

"Just breathe, yeah? You're alright." 'Legs' seemed to recognise the signs of an oncoming panic attack. "What's your name? Have you got someone I can call?" 'Stop being so fucking nice', Ryan internally groaned. He shook his head, closing his eyes and just focusing on his breathing. "Okay, I'll stay here with you. Talk you out of it... uh, well shit I can't think of anything to say." He chuckled in such a nonchalant way that made Ryan want to punch the guy.

"Pancakes are better." Ryan managed to mutter in between breaths, deciding to just say anything to change the subject and take his mind off his paranoia. 'Legs' wheezed at that, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You believe what you wanna believe, man." He adjusted his position so that he was sat down properly, legs crossed in front of him. "You're wrong, but hey, opinions and all that baloney."

Once Ryan felt like he was going to be okay, that he wasn't going to have a complete breakdown in front of his future murder victim he looked up to the sky, still avoiding looking at 'Legs'. "My name's Ricky by the way... Ricky Goldsworth." Ryan needed to try and make acquaintances with him while he could; it would hopefully make the upcoming murderous meet and greets less awkward.

"Goldsworth?" He seemed intrigued by that. "Cool name." Ryan was glad he hadn't just seen straight through him immediately. "Nice to meet you Ricky." He held out his hand to shake, Ryan took it and tried to keep his grip firm despite his hands still shaking. He also had to play it off like he hadn't noticed that 'Legs' had completely avoided telling him his name.

"Your breakfast is gonna go cold." Ryan told him to try and change the subject. "Mine too... let's go back inside."

"You alright to stand? You looked a bit wobbly on your feet just now." Ryan was tempted to just put a bullet in the guys head there and then and get his suffering over with. Of course he ended up with the crazed murderer who just happened to be a total sweetheart.

"I'm fine. Come on." Ryan pushed himself up and lead 'Legs' back inside, the two taking the seats they were previously in. Ryan's coffee was still pretty warm and his pancakes hadn't quite turned to soggy mush yet.

"Sorry if I said something to set you off, by the way. I didn't mean to freak you out." 'Legs' spoke in a hushed voice, as though he was trying not to induce more panic into Ryan.

"It's alright... it's been a long night. I'm just on edge I guess." Ryan took a bite of his breakfast, he wasn't that hungry anymore but he also knew he would regret it later if he didn't finish it. "It's not your fault." Ryan took another sip of coffee to wash it down.

"Well, I don't know if you're free sometime soon but there's a nice bar in town, I was planning on going out tonight if you wanted to join me." That was the second time 'Legs' had made him choke on his coffee. He hadn't expected to be asked out by the guy he was supposed to kill. "Uh, well, you don't have to if you don't want to!" He quickly gave Ryan the option to turn him down, his cheeks bright red and he couldn't meet his eyes.

This was perfect. 'Legs' had practically signed his own death warrant... granted that Ryan could actually pull the job off. Everything had fallen into place however, he would be an idiot to turn it down.

"That sounds... that sounds great actually." Ryan tried not to sound so relieved that he didn't have to make up some bullshit excuse to stalk this guy without it being weird.

"Really?" God, Ryan felt like such an asshole. He wasn't stupid, he knew what was happening. 'Legs' was showing interest, he was inviting him out and was shy when he asked the question. Now 'Legs' was feeling immense relief that Ryan had offered to spend the night getting to know him. He was leading him on and wouldn't even get the chance to let him down gently. "Shit, I didn't actually expect you to say yes! I mean, on my part even I can say this is bad timing!" He was giddy like a child, not helping the sinking feeling in Ryan's stomach.

"I'm always up for a good time." Ryan played along to the best of his ability. This guy was digging his own grave without Ryan even having to try, he didn't want to let the opportunity go to waste. "I've got to... there's this hotel I'm looking after at the moment. It's gonna be refurbished and I've got this job to basically check in and make sure none of the shit gets stolen. I can meet you after work if you want?"

"You're looking after a hotel? You're not gonna go all Jack Torrance on me and come after me with an axe, are you?" Even if it was a great movie he was referencing Ryan couldn't help but nervously chuckle at the irony.

"Wouldn't dream of it." 'Just drink your coffee and don't make eye contact Ryan', he thought to himself in desperation. He picked up his napkin and took a pen out of his blazer pocket. He'd childishly put it there in case he needed to go all spy-movie-action-scene and use the pen as a weapon, but he supposed using it for it's intended purpose would do for now. "Here's the address." Ryan had memorised it off by heart after fretting over his plans the night before. "Meet me about seven-ish?"

"Seven-ish." 'Legs' spoke aloud his mental note as he took the napkin and glanced at the address. "This isn't that far from the bar actually." That was lucky for Ryan, he wouldn't have to bring 'Legs' half way across the city just to kill him.

Ryan's plan was pretty simple, if not slightly manipulative - though he decided that if he was plotting to kill someone he would have to put his morals on the back bench for the time being. He would go out for a few drinks with 'Legs', get him to loosen up, bring him back to the hotel, lock the door so no one would accidentally wander in on his murder scene and then take care of him in the basement. One flaw he found with his plan was that he realised he still hadn't been told a name for his victim, not a nickname or initials: nothing. Ryan was starting to wonder if he was the one manipulating the situation, that he was the one in control... he had a feeling 'Legs' had his own ulterior motives behind inviting him out.

By the time seven rolled around Ryan almost felt sick with nerves. After preparing everything he needed in the hotel he was sat on the steps at the front door, staring at his blank phone screen in front of him to seem less conspicuous when he heard a call for his name - well, the name he had given out as a cover.

"Ricky?" Ryan looked up and smiled at the man before him. 'Legs' had changed out of the striped hoodie and jeans he wore that morning, he was wearing a dark blue shirt with red Hawaiian flowers on it which caught Ryan's attention. He'd never actually seen someone pull off a flower shirt like that and not look like a dad on vacation.

"Hey." Ryan stood up and climbed down the stairs, feeling slightly intimidated by the guy. He found it strange that he was wary of a paper thin guy in a flower shirt, but when put into the context that said guy towered over him in height he found himself feeling strangely inferior - that and he was a fucking murderer, Ryan had to keep reminding himself of that fact.

With a nervous breath 'Legs' gave a smile, "Shall we get going? The bar's down this way." Ryan smiled and nodded, following the taller man down the street

'Time to act your heart out' Ryan thought to himself, 'Play it cool, don't be suspicious'.

The bar was starting to fill with patrons though it didn't seem to be as busy as some of the others, Ryan was glad of that. The less people that saw him there the better. 'Legs' took the gentlemanly approach and offered to buy the first round, Ryan watching closely to make sure his drink hadn't been spiked before taking his first sip.

It had been a while since Ryan had been out like this, he had missed it if he was honest. The last time he was out drinking he... Ryan shook away the thought with a frown. He wouldn't think about that tonight, not now that he was about to cause someone else to find their family member brutally murdered.

'Legs' had noticed Ryan's frown and looked nervous, as though he was calculating the right thing to say. This night must have been important to him, he was trying so hard not to mess it up. Ryan felt immense guilt but knew he couldn't wallow in it all night. He needed the night to go well too, given that he needed to get him back to the hotel. He hoped it would be willing and not Ryan dragging him back kicking and screaming.

"Thanks for coming out tonight." 'Legs' started, talking over the music with his best efforts. "I mean, I really thought you were gonna turn me down."

"I needed something like this, I should be the one thanking you." Ryan wished he meant that, he wished he was just out on what felt like a date - it probably would have been considered one in Ryan's mind but 'Legs' still had neglected to give him a name. It was a sobering reminder that the man in front of him could very well have his own plans of murder. His nice guy act was so cliché anyway, serial killers were always known like that. It was the whole Norman Bates schtick, the type of guy who wouldn't hurt a fly, socially awkward yet charming. Ryan hoped he wouldn't get stabbed to death by this guy dressed as his mother later on, though it would certainly be an unexpected twist to his evening.

"Is it a tough life, looking after hotels I mean?" He asked, taking a sip of his drink, "Must get pretty lonely having all those rooms to yourself."

"Yeah... it can be." Ryan was used to loneliness, it was just part of his daily life by this point. He supposed if the whole hotel business was his real job he wouldn't think it any different to how he felt when he was sat at home on a Friday night watching movies all on his own rather than reuniting with his college friends and going out to get completely shitfaced. "What do you do, I don't think I asked?" Ryan hoped that question wouldn't scare him off.

"I, uh... I'm actually unemployed at the moment." He was avoiding eye contact again, Ryan knew he was lying anyway. "I'm here on a sort of midlife crisis, trying to see if I can make it on my own sorta thing... it's not going well." He laughed it off and took another, longer sip of his drink.

"You're on your own out here?" Interesting, that meant there would be no one around to search for him if he suddenly went missing. Ryan had interpreted him saying he was unemployed as he wasn't out on a job for the mob in New Orleans. He was just as alone out here as Ryan was. This whole situation just seemed so perfect, though he was wary of how careless it was on 'Legs' part.

"Yeah." Was his only response.

"You must be pretty lonely too then." Ryan didn't like to empathise with a killer, though he knew in just a few short hours he would be one himself. "Guess we can be lonely together." Ryan raised his glass, 'Legs' picking his own up and tapping it on Ryan's, the sound of the clink breaking through the music with ease.

Ryan had anticipated the night to go poorly. He had assumed he would be too nervous to drink or talk for half the night or perhaps for his date to figure out his true identity through some offhanded comment and ditch him or put a bullet between his eyes. What he hadn't expected however was to actually have a good time with him.

The two of them seemed to get along just fine, conversing in topics such as old shitty horror movies that were just charming enough to be enjoyable - or the ones that had practical effects so terrible they were actually hilarious to watch. 'Legs' had listened to Ryan ramble on about how much he loved Disneyland and hadn't been in years, in return Ryan tried his best to pay attention to some anecdotes 'Legs' had from an old D&D game he had played with his friends back in his hometown.

As the number of drinks piled up Ryan actually started to let his guard down, relaxing in his seat and laughing along at the dumb jokes 'Legs' cracked every other minute. He had to hand it to the guy: he was pretty funny. With his guard down he hadn't quite expected 'Legs' to smoothly place his hand over Ryan's as he was fidgeting with his glass, nor had he expected himself not to pull away quickly.

This was his chance.

"Hey... how about we drink up and get out of here, yeah?" Ryan suggested, 'Legs' quirking an eyebrow at him and downing the rest of his drink. "We can go back to the hotel I'm looking after, it's completely empty. It'll be just you and me."

"Lead the way."

The two of them headed out of the bar and into the cool night air, Ryan holding his hand and pulling him along through the crowd as to not lose him. The streets were bustling with the city's nightlife, the people passing them were either already drunk and loud or on their way to join in. Ryan really had missed this, the buzz of it all, but that wasn't what he was here to do, as much as he was hoping that maybe he could spend a couple nights with this guy, go out partying and make stupid decisions together. At the same time however, the last thing Ryan wanted to do was form an attachment; he was already getting dangerously close to that.

"Here we are." Ryan struggled to fit the key into the front door ten minutes later, mentally cursing to his past self for having one round too many. He hated that he'd actually had a good time with 'Legs' tonight. He hated how now it was over, now was the time where 'Legs' whole life was over. The price Ryan was paying to have protection didn't seem worth it all of a sudden, but he'd come this far... giving up now wouldn't sit right with him.

"Give me a room with a view, Goldsworth." 'Legs' put his hand on Ryan's hip, leaning into him and breathing against the back of his ear. It sent shivers down his spine. It took all he had not to throw his plans out the window and lead him to one of the rooms upstairs.

"Got a better idea." Ryan turned around to him. "You said you didn't want me to for obvious reasons... but what if I did go all 'Jack Torrance'? What I'm trying to say is I bet the basement is romantic as fuck." 'Legs' burst out laugh at that, his head dipping and eyes crinkling into thin lines as they had done many times that night.

"You know what? You've won me over." He let Ryan take him by the hand and guide him towards the heavy metal door that lead down a flight of stairs to a mostly empty room, just a boiler and some electronics  that Ryan had no idea the purpose for - probably a fuse box or something. The only light in the room was a simple bulb hanging from a chord on the ceiling, fitting for a room that was soon to house a murder.

The second the door was closed behind 'Legs' Ryan struck out, grabbing the pole he had set out earlier when he was rehearsing this moment over and over again like some crazed fanatic and striking the taller man on the side of the head. It knocked him out in an instant, 'Legs' dropping like a sack of bricks and tumbling down the stairs. Ryan winced, it looked like it hurt. 'Forget your fucking morals, man, you're trying to kill him'. Ryan stared down at his unmoving body from atop the stairs, his breathing heavy in his chest. It was terrifying to him just how easy that was, how simple it had all been. This poor guy was just looking to have a good time and now he was getting murdered for it.

Acting quickly, just in case 'Legs' woke up half way through, Ryan rushed down the stairs and grabbed the chair and the rope had set aside, hauling up the man's deadweight and tying him to the chair. He inspected the wound on his head, blood pooling around the edges but not gushing down like he had imagined it would in his rehearsals.

"Okay... okay, right... what now?" Ryan frantically looked around the room as if looking for clues. "Oh, gun, right." Ryan took the gun he had concealed under the boiler, dusting it off and checking to see if it was loaded. "Right... now wait for him to wake up I guess."

Ryan took the spare chair he had previously placed in the basement just in case things escalated and he had to knock him out with a chair instead of the pole, lucky the craftwork had stayed in one piece. He sat opposite 'legs', hunching over slightly and looking at the gun in his hand. It rattled slightly as his hand shook, looking out of place in his grip. Ryan knew this wasn't right, he knew deep down that this was only going to make his life worse but he was in far too deep now for retrospective analysis.

"Stop shaking." He whispered to himself, using his free hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He was panicking again. "Fuck..." He couldn't help but think about the last time he was panicking, crouched down outside the diner this morning. 'Legs' had been there for him then, a comforting presence that had managed to calm him down despite being the reason he was panicking in the first place. He felt like he needed that now.

As if on cue 'Legs' stirred, a faint groan escaping his lips as he struggled to find consciousness. He tilted his head up slowly with a wince, eyes squinting as he looked directly at Ryan. "Huh?" He struggled against the ropes he was tied to, looking at them in confusion as if he couldn't understand why he was now tied up. He seemed to wake up a little more after his brain tried to piece together what was going on, the tall man looking around with a pained expression before his eyes settled back on Ryan.

"Hey sleepyhead." Ryan stood up, putting his acting chops to best use. 'Whatever you say just make it intimidating' he repeated in his head like a mantra. "Have a nice nap?"

"Ricky?" 'Legs' sounded woozy, "What's going on... is this a kink thing or something? I'm not one to judge or anything but some consent would have been nice."

"Wha-" Ryan was baffled by the stupidity that had just come from this guy's mouth. A kink thing? This guy was a well known member of the mob who'd just been knocked out and tied to a chair in a basement like some sort of thriller movie cliché... and then he thought it was just that Ryan had a fucking kink? Not quite what Ryan had been expecting. "No, you idiot! I'm here to kill you!"

"Oh?" 'Legs' seemed to think that over for a minute before the somewhat humoured smile that had previously been on his face was wiped completely. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'." Ryan mimicked as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought this was going to be a lot harder but you just walked right into this... you didn't even question me wanting to take you into the basement! Are you really that dense?"

"In my defence you hit me on the head pretty fuckin' hard." He groaned, almost as if he was trying to get sympathy. Ryan wouldn't take the bait, even if he did sort of feel guilty about it.

"That was after I lured you all the way out here!" Ryan's voice rose in both volume and pitch, holding the gun out and aiming it at 'Legs' head. "I thought mob guys were supposed to be fuckin' smart!"

"Mob guys?" Everything slowly clicked into place for him, he looked almost disappointed, but what he was disappointed about Ryan wasn't so sure. Maybe in himself for being so naïve or perhaps in Ryan for leading him on the way he did to turn out to just be another in a long line of guys that had come after him. "Right, so you're here to kill me then?"

"Yeah, I said that already." Ryan was trying his very best to be patient and take into account the guy had only just woken up after he bashed him round the head with a metal pole. "You're a ballsy guy, I'll give you that. I mean, just going out and partying in New Orleans knowing the Californian mob is after you? I can't tell if it's bold or insane!"

"Well I'm not in California right now, am I? I didn't think they'd be dumb enough to come around here with how high the tensions are between them and the gangs here in Orleans." So he did have a bit of common sense, even if his logic had been flawed. "That and I wasn't expecting the good looking guy in the diner to be some fucking mafia hitman or whatever."

"You think I'm good looking- wait, no. You're not going to flirt your way out of this!" Ryan jabbed the gun in his direction as if to threaten him into shutting up but 'Legs' didn't seem all that phased that his life was in danger. 'Definitely insane' Ryan thought to himself as he glared down at him. Who the hell stays so calm in a situation like this? This guy really is Norman Bates reincarnate. "And I'm not a hitman, I'm part of the Cali mob!"

"You are, are you?" 'Legs' seemed sceptical. "You don't look the part. I mean, you're way too short for one and that tough guy act is fooling no one."

"Man, fuck you! Just because you're as tall as a fucking sasquatch doesn't mean I'm short! Oh my god I cannot believe I was actually considering throwing everything I worked for away and just fucking you instead!" Ryan was aware he was trying to rile him up on purpose, but god dammit it was working like a charm. "Are you forgetting I'm holding a fucking gun here? I'm going to kill you! You should be begging for your life right now!"

"Oh, no, please don't kill me Mr Goldsworth." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Although, I mean, if you untie me I could pretend none of this even happened and we could just go upstairs and, y'know." He gave a conspicuous whistle rather than being as blunt as Ryan had been.

"You're insufferable." Ryan couldn't believe this was the same guy he went drinking with, the same guy he was starting to regret luring to the edge of town to kill. He was filled with enough aggression and adrenaline not to feel that regret anymore, but he still couldn't help noticing that his hand still shook slightly as he pointed the gun in 'Legs' face.

"I always thought you mobsters were supposed to be tough guys. You're shaking like a leaf."  'Legs' pointed out which only infuriated Ryan even more. "You really should work on controlling your emotions more, just shut 'em off, y'know?"

"Stop giving me fucking criticism!" Ryan growled, his fist balled at his side before he used it to steady his shaking hand. "I'm literally about to shoot you!"

"Well hurry up with it then, you're starting to look like some incompetent movie villain!" 'Legs' almost sounded bored, impatient even. Ryan figured the guy must be on some next level of crazy if he was practically begging the guy holding a gun to shoot him.

"Don't rush me!" Ryan clicked the safety off on his gun and held it against 'Legs' forehead, the taller man closed his mouth very quickly and his eyes opened wider. Ryan couldn't help but smirk at how quickly he turned his act around.

"Uh, Ricky?" 'Legs' sounded worried all of a sudden, a complete juxtaposition from how he was mere seconds ago.

"Oh, now you're afraid. Didn't take much for that tough guy act to fall through, did it?" Ryan felt proud in a way, proud that he'd actually succeeded in intimidating the guy. Maybe he had it in him after all? Maybe this whole time he had just been overreacting, overthinking. He had the guts to do this, all he had to do now was pull the trigger (after saying something badass like they did in the movies, of course) and it would be over.

"Ricky!" 'Legs' called out, an unmistakeable fear in his tone. "Look out, behind you!"

"Yeah, how stupid do you think I am?" Ryan scoffed, though his tune soon changed when he heard the sound of metal scraping along the floor behind him, something he imagined 'Legs' had heard before Ryan knocked him out earlier. He gasped, eyes widening as he remembered he forgot one crucial step in his plan: he forgot to lock the front door.

Before Ryan could even turn around and defend himself he felt something connect with his temple and the world turned to black in a terrifyingly quick instant.

So much for everything being too easy...

[izukyu]

monster, monster high - vampire! izuku x reader.

pheww s/o to my nonexistent attention span for making me take at least a month to write this ! i busted out my lovecraft books for inspo, so i hope you enjoy this lil collab @sourbkg , @katskidon , & i put together!

emmie did a vampire shinsou fic, go check it out!

☆ﾐ pairing - vampire! izuku midoriya x reader.

☆ﾐ word count - 3.6k

☆ﾐ warnings - mentions of death, blood, suggestive content, and a feeble attempt at descriptive writing.

✧*̥₊˚‧☆ﾐ  ┊ running into your long-lost childhood friend and confronting a highly-marketed cryptid was sadly not in your bucket list for visiting your hometown, but a little thrill never killed anyone, right?

summer nights were always, without fail, crisp and melancholic.

once upon a time you would stroll fearlessly through the woods in pursuit of amusement, arm in arm with your freckled comrade. ironically enough, the creaking of oaks and whistles of the wind lost their unnerving effect whenever you ran through the forest with scaredy-cat izuku. his nervous gulping and wandering eyes fed your adventurous spirit—an insatiable hunger for cracking the boy out of his shell grumbled inside your soul each day you’d spend together.

until he disappeared, victim to the summer lament of the ancient woodland behind your backyards.

wherever he was, you hoped he was okay; you hoped izuku would be well and healthy under the moon-cursed stars.

“i wasn’t expecting you to come back any time soon,” inko laughed, her emerald eyes far from how they used to be before. even when you’d be troublemakers with her son, her face remained free of wrinkles or stress—if anything, all your evil doings brought a smile to her face.

now her eyes, body, and mind seemed to push the boundaries of exhaustion.

you managed to give her a smile, your eyes focused on the trail of steam leaving the cup of tea she had fixed for you. “i would never leave you alone on a day like this, inko-san - you’re not alone.”

inko sipped on her own cup of tea, looking out the window that gave her but a sneak peak of the holt beyond her backyard. “thank you, honey.”

in a silence that spoke for itself, you enjoyed a nice beverage with your late best friend’s mother, even though that same title made you frown. it had been years since izuku vanished into thin air, and yet you couldn’t come to terms with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he was no longer well and healthy.

“i mean it, thank you for visiting. it’s been… lonely around here,” she chuckled bitterly, standing up from her seat to retrieve something from her crowded kitchen. spices, books, and the same cookie jar izuku would always rob from still rested on the counter. except instead of mouth-watering sweets, a bouquet of gorgeous lilies adorned the jar.

somewhere in your mind you could hear your green-haired dork gushing about the flowers. his passion for nature and everything surrounding him still resided in your heart.

slowly, you finished the last drops of the warm drink, savouring the love behind it before speaking up again. “inko-san, you practically raised me as if i were your own, if anything i owe it all to you!”

at your remark, a heartfelt giggle escaped from inko’s throat. “couldn’t help myself, not when you were such a kind kid! i am very grateful for all the help you gave izuku, you really pitched in with his confidence.” she crouched down to retrieve a tray from the oven, her green oven mitts holding the pastries to the small dinner table. “plus, i knew i had to take good care of you when izuku declared he would marry you when older - i still remember that day.”

although her words pierced through your heart, your smile remained intact. “how could we ever forget? for such a small, shy boy, he sure had some spirit in him, he ran off while we were baking together and came back with bloody hands and a tear-stained face.” you sighed at the memory, reminiscent of the tug your heart felt at the sight. “the roses he brought with him were pretty, but it seems he forgot those have thorns. so much for being a plant nerd.”

“and then as i was cleaning the cuts he stood on the couch and declared he would have your hand and build you a house of flowers in the woods!” inko brought her hands to her face, her hot oven mitts akin to her son’s own warmth.

in spite of the sweet memory, a bitter feeling prodded at your heart. izuku never made promises he couldn’t keep—even as a kid, he took pride in his honesty.

“sheesh, he sure was a bold kid.”

“says you! gosh, you were fiery and unpredictable. can’t say your nature never took me aback, it was like you always knew something no one else did… always plotting ahead of everyone.”

you didn’t have the heart to tell her that was the case right now. “good thing i grew out of it, i am no longer an irrational child - i am a responsible adult who pays taxes.”

inko shook her head, serving you one of her delicious pastries. “one does not grow out of their spirit.”

-

it was hard to convince inko to let you wander through the woods at the peak of dusk.

for some reason, even though you were now all grown up, it felt like she still had a say over what you did. nevertheless, underestimating your sly linguistic abilities was still quite a big mistake to make, and just a few words about nostalgia and bidding goodbyes was enough to put her at ease.

crocodile tears weren’t hard to deploy after years of practice.

what you told inko was partially the truth, following the trails of deer and overgrown flowers did spark a sense of homesickness in your aching heart.

the sun gifting you its last cries of light never failed to make your blood pump faster, knowing soon only your eyes alone would be your guide was thrilling. however, as much as you prided yourself in knowing the woods like the back of your hand, something felt… off and you couldn’t quite place a finger on what it was.

no cicadas sang their perish song, and no howls resonated through the maze of plants. it was definitely odd, but you’d seen uncannier. even as a child, it wasn’t hard to discern between what a normal forest would be like and the one past your backyard.

izuku loved hearing your wild theories and encounters with the paranormal.

you sighed, all the bittersweet memories weighing you down. was it really that stupid to keep brooding about your dead friend? yes, your very much deceased companion—your best friend six feet under.

it was hard to convince yourself that was the truth.

izuku was never the kind of kid to get lost, or even worse, run away. no, something else must have happened. izuku would never just leave you like that.

once again, you sighed. it seemed selfish to imagine all he had in mind at every damn hour was you. assuring yourself izuku only acted upon what would make you happy was far from healthy or realistic. it was virulent.

a venom that only grew with each passing year—each new month without izuku’s dorky remarks, or his flustered laugh turning into a poison you could never cleanse. an aconitum, as izuku would say.

vexed, you kicked a pebble under your feet. screw the jinxed evenfall that took your childhood crush away. all full moons be damned, you wanted your friend back.

“goddamnit,” you scoffed to the darkening trees and yourself.

… and perhaps to another spectator, hiding among the rumbling shrubs.

with widened eyes and a jumping heart, you whipped your head around to the source of the noise. the dark mist did little to aid you in scanning the area for any threats. no footsteps, no growls, no nothing.

you refrained from making your presence known again, instead making the smart choice to retrace your steps back home. nostalgia wasn’t always kind though, and old echoes of encountering arcane, whatever-the-fuck beings in that same forest resurfaced to make your heart beat just a little faster.

to make your blood pump vigorously with panic and adrenaline.

your sweet, sweet blood.

with only a hiss for a warning, you were knocked to the ground by an unknown force. a shadow, if you will.

you cursed, struggling to pry the weight from your back, find an opening to scram, or do anything that would get you out of your current predicament. taking note that lying on your belly wasn’t a position you felt safe in, you kicked and grunted, boiling over the creep holding you down.

fruitless efforts aside, whatever—whoever?—was straddling your waist kept an iron grip on your squirming limbs with an eerie force. In spite of that, your fire to live till the next sunrise was hard to put out, “knock it off, i’ll rock your shit!”

for a moment, the straining clutch on your wrists relented, giving you a one-way ticket to struggle out of your vulnerable posture. you slithered away from your spot, not before having the penumbra meet your elbow with a brutal swing.

the thing had half a mind to groan at your attack, further fueling your instinct to flee rather than fight. almost like a reward for one-upping the oddity, the full moon shone down on the small clearing, dazzling enough to let you analyze what jumped you.

how come someone with a collared shirt and suit pants was wandering and pouncing on strangers at midnight?

“what’s wrong with you?” your own bark made the man before you freeze in his spot, edging him to curl up and hide from your eyes with his arms. the spike of adrenaline gave you more of a bite than you could handle; wrath, genuine panic, and an onslaught or two eager to jump out of your throat.

your eye twitched when instead of seeing red, you saw hints of green before you—mossy, glistening green atop the asshole’s head.

he seemed to notice where your gaze landed, making him flinch and, carefully, step back into the shadows again.

alas, you were determined and stubborn since day one, and you weren’t about to let this lead escape from your grasp. if the cryptid used his abnormal strength to jump you, then you must have used all the aching venom lying in your soul to pull the same stunt on him.

whatever this guy was, monster or genuine pervert, he was quite the newbie.

the man breathed heavily, a set of keen fangs greeting you from inside his mouth. his forest-green curls were sprawled across his forehead and the grass under him—sweaty and disoriented. constellations of freckles painted his face, creating a portrait of an all-too familiar face.

but what caught your utmost attention were his lambent eyes, emerald green, and cursed with a thin slit for a pupil.

breathless, instinctively, and hopeful, you whispered—”izuku?”

the man of the hour gulped, unable to take his eyes off your face.

you should have been relieved—ecstatic, even. your gut was right! izuku was alive; not sure about well and healthy, but at least he was in one piece before you.

still and all, the drool dripping past his lip was concerning, and his still predatory stare was still very much on you.

effortlessly and without a second thought, the shell that once was izuku flipped you over, making you hit the cold dirt once again. the impartial light of the moon made izuku shine above you, and as cynical as it might sound, the thought of dying by his hand didn’t sound half-bad.

except, fuck, you didn’t want to die just yet.

“deku, it’s me!” you writhed, clinging to the sliver of hope that you could turn this around once again. “just what happened to you? i thought you were dead - dead, very much not alive!”

your words failed to reach inside his humanity or common sense, and like parallels, his heavy breathing and your frantic panting synced together.

izuku dived in to press his mouth against your neck, stilling once his puffing could send shivers down your spine.

you waited for a painful bite, to bleed out and become the freckled monster’s feast. but that bite never came. “... izuku?”

for the first time since he could remember clearly, izuku felt truly at ease. your distressed heartbeat was a gorgeous arrangement for his soul and ears, he could feel you through the wild thumping of your ribcage.

instead of sinking his fangs against your pulse, he pressed his lips against your neck, as gently as a starved vampire could manage. in reality, the line between gentle and rough became blurry in his feral mindset; almost nonexistent.

one became two, two turned into five, and soon your neck was smothered with nibbles and gentle bites—intoxicating and fear-inducing.

“izuku, p-please,” you whimpered, unsure of whether your rapid pulse was related to the fright of nearly dying, or embarrassment of having your childhood crush scatter love pecks all over your collarbone.

his name falling from your lips in such a fascinating pitch made his pointy ears perk up, sparing you a single glance. “what’s the matter, clover?”

you could write down a list to respond. first, why the hell would he pull out your old nickname in such a bizarre scenario? second, and considerably less important, could you please get a rundown on why he’s half-alive and rocking vintage clothing?

clover, clover clover. oh my brave clover - was it?

not long after you met each other, izuku started to declare you his lucky friend. thrilling adventures always followed you, and surprisingly, no scratches or bruises ever came to him in your company.

clover, clover clover. awesome four-leaf clover.

it was hard to believe that same adorable kid was now older, alive, and humping your thigh in a subtle manner.

“you’re impossible, get off me!”

as if your skin was laced with garlic—your zany comparisons went a long way after all—izuku backed off hastily, giving you freedom to move once again.

his sharp nails dug into the soil, holding him back from returning to your warm touch. “wh-what’s wrong?”

“what's wrong?” baffled, your hand came up to cover your neck now growing dark in color. “minutes ago i thought you were dead, next thing i know is you’re pinning me down and m-making out with me - i’d say that’s what’s wrong!”

startled, izuku shook his head frantically, “n-no! no, no - that was not my intention.”

while he mumbled apologies over and over again under his breath, you tried your best to find your bearings once again. you were in the forest by your old house, that part was easy to jot down. it was well past midnight and someone tried to suck you dry, that’s when the situation started to get complicated, but you still managed to wrap your head around it.

you had trouble processing the last part though—the one in which that person who tried to eat you alive was none other than izuku midoriya, your late best friend and crush.

“okay, take a deep breath, ‘zuku,” while keeping the established distance, you tried to stop the vampire from spiraling into a panic attack. “let’s start from the beginning - why the fuck did you ambush me like that?”

izuku groaned at your hostile remark, his hands coming up to cradle his face, “i-i’m so so sorry! i was hungry and you were the first thing i found and i didn’t mean to-”

you cut his monologue short, “what are you?”

that last question rendered izuku silent.

a brumal breeze danced between the trees, making the leaves shiver and chant pleads of mercy—to judge or forgive the fiend before you.

although the clearing grew dim as the moon looked past the scene, you trusted izuku enough to hug him in the absence of light. as the darkness engulfed your bodies, your arms held him close to you.

izuku gave no response, not like it was really needed, as he settled his face in the juncture of your neck once again. “it’s been so long since i’ve held you in my arms.”

you held him tighter, “yeah, it’s been a couple years.”

as the sleeping flowers observed the encounter, the unvocal waves of a nearby stream drowning out your fears, izuku loosened up, no longer alert or seeking for something to bite and mark.

“i’ve missed you, dork.”

he sighed, placing a chaste kiss to your jaw. “a day doesn’t go by when i don’t think of y-you.” izuku pulled away from your embrace, split eyes gawking into your own. whatever had happened during those hours of darkness a decade ago had changed him, his memories of that day were nothing but a thick mist of confusion and horror-stricken wails.

funnily enough, izuku remembers convincing himself that you’d go save him that night.

izuku returned his gaze to the ground, “i’m scared, i don’t want to be stuck like this for eternity - i don't want to live a life w-without you! fuck, i wanted to grow old with you, but now i… i can’t.”

perhaps it was selfish and self-indulgent, but his rugged, vulnerable facade sparked a fire inside you. an old flame to protect izuku from all sadness and aching in the world.

a burning hunger to engulf.

pushing all common sense aside, along with sending inko an apology in your head, two desperate steps brought you close to his body again; wandering, bold hands held his pale face closer to yours, only a breath away from freeing those sentiments you harboured years ago.

the choice of whether to push past all boundaries and have his lips on yours or not dangled in your mind—get it together, make your choice. you could satiate your yearning and rather odd, burning desire to connect with izuku in a more intimate manner, or you could have some decency.

shockingly, you weren’t the one who had the final say in the current predicament.

izuku crashed his lips against yours, a fervid ache pumping through his inhuman veins; not for blood, but for you. although rather inexperienced, years and years of unspoken feelings manifested through your lip-locking, saying more than words could ever, and quenching your lonesome souls.

clawed hands desperately rummaged through your waist, catching up with each inch of your body; each curve, dip, and softness he oh-so had missed during his years of solace under the pulsating moonlight of the forest. ages of being apart had taken a toll on his no-longer beating heart, emotions spilling out as gasps and whimpers through the fine art of ardor.

almost as if his lethargic traits melted away at the hand of your scorching love.

sole lust could hardly make up for the essential need for oxygen, forcing you to pull back from the unexpected kiss—your lungs rejoiced, heart whined, and mind spinned in endless loops of need and lack of air. in spite of all, a single word tormented your consciousness in the best way possible, growing into a recurring mantra. “izuku.”

the preying breeze, angry riptides of a faraway stream, and the distant cries of insentient constellations all became nonexistent to you. as gently as izuku could manage in his torrid state of mind, he pressed your back against the nearest tree, never once pulling apart from the fifth kiss of the night.

five became six, then ten, until you rightfully lost count. your hands found their way into his silky hair, tugging at the curls each time izuku pressed his knee against your groin. nothing else mattered, just you, izuku, and the gentle hands of bliss.

izuku cursed under a strangled whisper, fighting the urge to fall prey to your intoxicating devotion once again. a nagging growl in the back of his head kept mauling his passion-induced thoughts.

he remembered why he was on the prowl among the weeping woods.

izuku was starving.

“what’s wrong?” your voice quavered, recovering from the breathless kissing in larghetto.

those honey-laced words died on air, a constant ringing blocking izuku’s hearing. while still relatively in control, he pushed himself away from your warm embrace, groaning at the unbearable sensory overload.

and then the ringing turned into thumping.

a familiar heartbeat reigned his senses, savouring the succulent blood currently dashing and staying warm for him to feast on. he already got a taste of your sweet love, heavenly would come short to describe how scrumptious your swollen lips had been—would your blood eclipse over it?

meanwhile, fear started to settle on your skin once again. strangled movements and rather loud snarls were not the aftercare you were expecting after all. much like how the entire scene had played out, his frantic movements said more than words could ever; you had to remind yourself this was not the izuku you had grown up with.

nonetheless, you had already made the irrational decision to make out with a bloodthirsty creature that night, what would one more baseless choice do anyway?

“hey,” you struggled to stay calm, your hand shaking as it sought his own palm, “‘i’m here, let me help you.” timidly, you pressed his fingers against your neck, a rapid pulse greeting him upon touch. was it foolish to devote yourself in such manner? perhaps, but it was too late to turn back now, not while his slitted orbs gawked at you once again.

not while izuku wasted no time in burying his face against your neck for the second time that night.

izuku mewled, his voice vibrating against your skin, “you’re too good to me, doll.”

the rest was a blur.

between feeling his sharp fangs sink into your skin, leaving a blazing sting in their trail, and rolling your eyes at the sensation of blood loss at the hand of who you once considered to be your soulmate, it was safe to say you were slowly losing grip of reality.

kind as ever, izuku held up your limp body against his, delicately relishing the last few drops of ichor your body could offer him without wilting away.

the two craters laced with velvet-red marked on your skin afterwards sent izuku on an embarrassed fit, almost as if he hadn’t been sucking on your sweet spot seconds before.

and with no moon to feed by, the vampire held you close to his chest, disappearing into the maudlin mist of the forest—never to be seen again.

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[monstersandmaw]

Yup. Part One. This absolute monstrosity quite literally grew wings and took on a life of its own, so yes, there will be a part two shortly, and it will be NSFW.

I shared the mood board/aesthetic for this over on Discord and a couple of people said they were excited, so I hope you enjoy it! It's set in Old Trollbridge, and you may pick up a passing reference to another character whose story was set here... Let me know in the comments if you remember them... Thanks also for your wonderful and enthusiastic feedback on Winter Solstice Chapter Five!

Contents: former school bullies, reader with a very slight potty-mouthed internal monologue, being physically attracted to someone(s!) that you didn't like intellectually/emotionally, watching said people kiss/be physically affectionate, the old 'oh no we've been paired on a project and will have to work together now or we'll get bad marks' trope, and some general growing up :) Wordcount: 5766

Chunky preview:

Winding up at the same university as the two biggest dicks from high school would have been - trying - enough, but to end up not only in the same department but also in the same damned classes was just downright cruel of fate. And yes, that was absolutely the right word for them.

The University of Old Trollbridge was known for its academic excellence in all areas, from cutting edge medicine to more traditional approaches, and the centuries-old institution was a bastion of learning, with places hotly contested. You’d nearly run herself into the ground in school to pass the right exams to get here - to leave all the pettiness of high school behind and finally start over - and here they were. It was going to be exactly the same. You could feel it. They’d worm their way to the top of the hierarchy again, and everyone would worship the ground they touched, and it would all just be awful.

“Fucking hell. This isn’t happening,” you cursed, watching the familiar and very particular hue of the naga’s dark green scales as he slithered across the entrance hall of the history faculty building, his muscular tail rippling with a million iridescent, deep emerald green colours. The atrium wasn’t exactly flooded with light, so somehow he looked like a living shadow.

People watched him; everywhere he went, people noticed him. He was probably one of the more famous undergraduates the university had had in recent years, what with his family’s ancient bloodline and apparently endless bank vaults, and his brief but extremely successful stint in modelling. The fact that the naga and his best friend (and almost literal sex god), Iltho, had gained a place was not all that much of a surprise to anyone, but you’d hoped they wouldn’t have chosen the same flipping department as you for their undergraduate studies. Not that they could be accused of paying their way in; for starters, the university had not accepted that kind of thing for generations.

No, they were both beautiful and unbearably smart too.

It was indecently unfair.

Your lip curled. Just as you’d been about to turn away, your roommate caught up with you. You’d put down that you didn’t mind who you were put with - gender or species - and for once, you’d actually lucked out. Rachel was an extremely talented spell caster, and, from what you’d seen of her in the first two days of your acquaintance, extremely tidy. “What’s up?” she asked, smiling up at you from beneath a thick curtain of vibrant, pastel pink hair. She was also about a foot shorter than you.

You jutted your chin at the naga.

“Oh my god, that’s… wow. I didn’t know we had a celebrity in our department!” she giggled, elbowing you playfully in the side. “Gods above… he’s gorgeous. It’s sinful. It shouldn’t be allowed. How am I supposed to concentrate in Old High Runic if he’s sitting there looking like that?”

“He’s also a massive cock,” you snorted. Fucking ‘Drake Shimmerscale’. Even his name was a giant cliche. Fancy noble lines with their fancy stupid names.

She tilted her head curiously. “You… know him?”

“Went to school with the bastard. Him and his best friend -” you cut off, eyes widening, as a second figure strode out of a doorway and exclaimed loudly. “Fucking… speak of the devil.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” she said, her eyes also locked on the newest arrival. It was easy to see why she’d thought you’d been referring to his appearance; his skin was a deep, ruby red, he had enormous, black, curved horns, a blunt-ended tail, and the bat-like wings that hung down his back looked like they’d been dipped in dark ink at the tips. He was also built like a bull and turned heads wherever he went, and here was no exception. Of course, the incubus would have to keep his ‘influence’ under control while at the university, but that didn't mean he didn't just naturally exude sex appeal anyway. Six-foot-something tall, with long, black hair that he usually wore pulled back into a thick braid studded with golden beads, he had flashing golden eyes and a mouth made for kissing.

Everyone had fantasised about being with him (and/or Drake) at school. Iltho had looked twenty-five since the age of fourteen, and acted like it too. Confident, cocky, quietly arrogant, also filthy rich, and stupendously intelligent, there was nothing that Iltho didn’t have. Really, the duo had made a striking pair, with the milk-white of Drake’s skin and the heated crimson of Iltho’s, their gemstone eyes of yellow and green, and their aloof personalities. The pair had ruled the school without having to do so much as lift a finger. They’d also done nothing to stop the lesser bullies posturing and vying for their attention. ‘Popular’ they may have been, but they’d also been about as liked as a Nightmare at a slumber party.

“No,” you said. “It’s not harsh. They’re both awful and they made life hell for the rest of us.” And with that you turned away, heading for the library.

You fumed as you stalked along the corridor and up the stairs towards the department’s ancient library. Yours was, appropriately enough for the History Faculty, one of the oldest buildings in the university, and it was absolutely everything you’d ever hoped for or dreamed from Old Trollbridge. The sheer aesthetic of it was mesmerising. Taking a huge, deep breath of the slightly musty air as you stepped into the library, you tried to put the pair of bullies out of your mind. This could still be your fresh start, surrounded by fragile parchment and vellum, leather spines, ancient oak tables, and the vague tingle of magic in the air.

There were wards in the ceilings to syphon off excess ambient magic in places like this, and as you let your eyes roam up and follow the conductive brass rods embedded in the ceiling, you nearly crashed into one of the long trestle tables that had been placed in a remote alcove, lit on one side by a huge, leaded, arched window and framed on the other three by bookshelves. As if fate had chosen you a place to settle down, you stared at the empty space for a moment before deciding that this would probably be your study spot for the rest of the year. It was right at the back of the library, and seemed out of the way enough that it wouldn’t be on the regular stamping ground of first years looking for the standard texts. It was also open enough that it probably wouldn’t be sought out for… other activities. The stacks, with their dark corners and endless shadows, seemed much more appropriate for that.

Yes. This would be perfect.

And you wouldn’t have to think about them here either.

Gods, even trying to get the thought of them out of your head prompted a flare of hot ire. Iltho and Drake had been inseparable at school. Class A bullies who just stood there and let everyone else spar and jockey for the dubious honour of being their latest minions and underlings, letting their wealth and, in Iltho’s case, ‘charisma’ carry them through. Half the school had been in love with them at one point, influence or not. And yes, even you had admired them from a distance. Rachel was right - they really were absolutely fucking gorgeous. Both of them. And it fucking sucked.

An hour later, a shadow passed in front of that beautiful window and you glanced up as someone halted beside your table. “That’s a familiar sight,” a deep voice chuckled.

Your stomach dropped and you felt your face fall with horror before you schooled it into something a little more acerbic than you’d ever managed in school. Funny how a few months’ internship abroad over the summer at one of the world’s most prestigious historical institutions could change everything. You hardened your eyes and noticed the way he watched you.

“Iltho,” you said flatly as you cricked your neck to look up at him. “You're blocking the light, but I can’t tell if it’s your wings or your ego that’s obliterating the sun. Would you care to move?”

Read the whole thing right now, as well as all the Mermay 2020 posts (five in total, including extra artwork), a surprise, nsfw ‘ghost lover’ story, all of Winter Solstice up to the current chapter, a new multi-chapter vampire story, the mlm werewolf story, plus everything that’s been posted already on Patreon!

[kuramirocket]

Sandwiched between private properties in Southeast Austin sits a little-known cemetery off Hoeke Lane, just west of U.S. 183. From the outside, there’s nothing that indicates the site is the final resting place for a number of Mexican and Mexican-American residents who died decades ago.

It’s a wilderness. The headstones, many of which date back to the 1940s, are easy to miss. The weeds are overgrown, and trees and shrubs cover much of the 4.5-acre plot.

The cemetery has been called a couple different names over the years — the Montopolis Cemetery and San José II. But no sign will tell you that. In fact, there’s scarce information available about the cemetery’s history at all.

But members of the community and a team of researchers are trying to change that. They want to trace back its history and ensure the cemetery, along with its sister site in nearby Montopolis, is preserved.

Diana Hernandez is the lead researcher for (Re)claiming Memories, a research group out of UT Austin that seeks to restore and preserve missing histories in communities of color. She and her team have been collecting death certificates and reaching out to descendants of those buried at the cemeteries to help piece together the history.

“Once we start to research the people that are buried here and start to find archival documentation for each person, we start to see the community come to life through the cemetery,” she said.

The History

To understand San José II, Hernandez says, we have to start about 2 miles north at San José I. This historic Mexican and Mexican-American cemetery was built around 1919. It sits between two churches off Montopolis Drive, though neither of them own it. The site is believed to be unclaimed, or orphaned, meaning no one is responsible for its upkeep in any official capacity. But neighbors and community members have taken care of it as best they can over the years, mowing the lawn, pulling weeds and cleaning off gravestones.

A metal archway stands at the entrance and reads “San Jose Cementerio.” The cemetery was founded by a mutual aid society called the Union Fraternal Mexicana, and it served the migrant sharecropping community. This was during segregation.

“Mexicans weren’t necessarily allowed to be buried in white cemeteries,” Hernandez said. “In some cases I've seen where there's a white cemetery, and then right next to it is the Mexican section … In this case, it was just a completely different cemetery."

When Cementerio San José started to get full, the second one was created in 1949 in Del Valle. Over the years, the cemeteries changed hands. The original San José hasn’t had a known owner for several decades. San José II has an owner, but she’s believed to be in poor health and unable to maintain it, according to Hernandez. KUT reached out to the owner for this story, but did not hear back.

Based on their research so far, Hernandez and her team estimate San José I and II have more than 350 burials combined. But understanding how many burials are at each individual site is a challenge. That’s partly because on death certificates, the name Montopolis Cemetery was often used interchangeably for San José I and II. And not every burial has a gravestone.

Many people buried at the cemeteries died during concurrent epidemics, like influenza, tuberculosis and pneumonia.

“They were getting so many bodies that they were burying people in layers on top of each other, and they stopped documenting who all was getting buried,” she said. “Because there's no documentation for the number of layers for the people that were being buried in these mass graves, we're just never going to know. There's going to be layers of people that we're never going to be able to identify.”

Hernandez began researching the San José cemeteries at the end of 2019, just before the area was hit with another outbreak of a deadly disease — COVID-19. And again, this predominantly Latino neighborhood was hit harder than others.

“These histories repeat themselves,” Hernandez said. “I think that’s one of the reasons why this work is important, because it kind of sheds light on these pasts that weren’t acknowledged the way they should have been. We can use this knowledge to improve our present.”

The Descendants

Frank Monreal remembers the days when Montopolis Drive was just a dirt road. He and the other neighborhood kids, some 50 years ago, would play on the giant oak tree that stands in the middle of Cementerio San José. Instead of bicycles, he and his friends had horses.

“Everybody rode horses back then,” he said one day while at San José I. “We used to come out here, and they were our lawn mowers. They let them eat the grass and keep the grass low here.”

Monreal has relatives buried at San José I and II. From an early age, he understood death was a natural part of life. He often helped out with funerals. He remembers one burial happening at Cementerio San José when he was a kid. But it’s been a long time since anyone was buried there, he says. Most gravesites appear to date back to the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s.

There were more gravestones back then, he says, but some have weathered or broken over time. He used to walk through the cemetery on his way to school. He’d often see people putting flowers on graves, something he doesn’t see much anymore. Now, many relatives have died or left.

“That’s inevitable, you know, because generations change,” he said. “People move away.”

Preserving the cemetery, though, is important, he says, especially as gentrification has altered the landscape of Montopolis over the years.

“[The cemetery] is sacred ground to us, from our ancestors,” he said. “I don’t want to see it gone.”

Micaela Johnson, a 19-year-old artist and activist, can trace part of her family tree back to the Cementerio San José. She’s a member of the Limón family, one of Austin’s founding families whose descendants now number upwards of 3,500.

Many of her family members grew up and had businesses in Montopolis, like the Limón Bakery. She said her grandparents probably have connections to at least a quarter of the people buried at San José.

In her family, passing down stories from generation to generation is a common tradition. She remembers hearing stories about Aurora, her grandfather’s sister, who died in 1940 of pneumonia when she was 11 months old. She was buried at Cementerio San José, and her gravestone was decorated with marbles. But Johnson hasn’t been able to locate it.

She also remembers stories of Concepcion Trevino Garcia, her great-great-grandmother who died in 1939 from tuberculosis and was buried at San José. She left behind her husband and five young daughters.

“She was one of the strongest women that I have ever heard my family talk about,” Johnson said. “She was very driven and very loving.”

Garcia's grandchildren still visit the cemetery on Mother’s Day and leave flowers, Johnson said. Her family’s connection to the cemetery has inspired Johnson to get involved with (Re)claiming Memories and help ensure the San José cemeteries are well kept.

“It’s not just a place where people are buried,” she said. “It’s the life and the heart of a lot of our ancestry.”

One of the more recent headstones at Cementerio San José belongs to Augustina Rosales, who was at one time believed to be Austin’s oldest living resident. She died in 1994 at age 116. Near the back of the cemetery, she’s buried next to her husband Marcos, who died in 1951.

Rosales had 13 children and raised several others who were relatives or orphaned as if they were her own. She liked to dance to conjunto music and cook for her family, according to an Austin American-Statesman article about her death. Rosa Moncada, Rosales's great-granddaughter, says “she was awesome.”

Maintaining The Cemeteries

Moncada has several other relatives buried at San José, including grandparents and two older sisters who were born premature and died. Growing up in East Austin, Moncada would go with her mother and siblings to visit the cemetery. But they went less frequently over time, in part because the grass was often so high they couldn’t easily walk through it.

When they heard about the work Hernandez and her team are doing to help maintain the cemetery, Moncada and her sister Juanita Moncada Bayer started visiting again. And now they’re trying to keep it maintained, bringing relatives together to mow the lawn and clear out dead tree branches.

But maintaining the cemetery consistently isn’t an easy task. San José I is 2.5 acres.

“We thought, well, let's do what we can,” Bayer said. “But unfortunately, our mind tells us we can do it. But our bodies — like, that's hard work.”

(Re)claiming Memories and members of the community hosted a cleanup for San José earlier this year and hope to host more. They have been reaching out to city and county leaders, asking them to allocate more resources to the cemeteries' maintenance.

The more challenging endeavor will be cleaning up San José II. The site is difficult to access, making it hard for people to visit and maintain it.

Monreal remembers going to San José II as a kid to visit his grandfather’s grave with his dad. Back then, San José II had a proper entrance and was easier to get to.

Now, a locked chain-link fence blocks the main path that leads to the cemetery. Several sources told KUT the fence was put up by the property owner next door, perhaps to keep people from trespassing. KUT reached out to the law office that owns the property and was told it didn’t have anything to do with the gate. Hernandez and the research group are trying to get to the bottom of the issue and hope to create a proper entrance, so descendants can visit.

The area has long had problems with people dumping trash and gravel. A mound of dirt and debris now presses against fencing on one side of the cemetery.

And warehouses are being built on the southeastern side. This worries Hernandez because the cemetery hasn’t been surveyed; some burials could be outside the perimeter and could be disturbed. Community members have expressed concern that debris from construction is impacting the cemetery.

When KUT reached out to the construction manager for the company that’s developing the site, he was surprised to learn there was a cemetery next door. (“That is a jungle,” Brent Ramirez said.)

The cemetery itself is zoned for warehouse and limited office use, which some are concerned could make it vulnerable to development. (Re)claiming Memories is working with Council Member Vanessa Fuentes to get the proper zoning for it and a historical designation. Fuentes toured the cemetery earlier this year.

“It’s sad to see because it looks as if it’s been neglected and dismissed, especially with the development that’s right next to it,” she said. “Those are families and families’ history and legacies and relatives that are buried there. Those are stories that need to be told.”

Currently, pink marking flags stick up in various spots within the shrubbery of San José II. That’s the work of Joaquin Rodriguez, an Austin resident who has been going out to the cemetery to remove litter and clean off and mark gravestones that have been covered up over time.

He first learned about the cemetery late last year while researching his ancestry. Rodriguez, who was adopted, had taken a DNA test and learned he had relatives buried at cemeteries throughout Austin, including San José I and II. After seeing how neglected San José II was, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

The (Re)claiming Memories team wants to eventually create a digital map or database where people can upload information about the people buried at the cemeteries. Hernandez hopes this crowdsourced online resource will help bring the stories of the deceased together and shed light on the history of the Mexican and Mexican-American community in Montopolis.

The team is also putting together an exhibit on the cemeteries for the Mexic-Arte Museum in September. Johnson plans to perform a poem called “We Are Lost History” and sell shirts she designed, the proceeds from which will support the cemeteries' upkeep.

Johnson said she recognizes that Austinites who are not directly connected to the cemeteries may not see a reason to care about them, but she thinks they should.

“They might just see it as another gravesite or another old ancient Mexican burial ground, and they might [think] it doesn’t matter because it’s not a part of them,” Johnson said. “But it is a part of them. It’s a part of the history of Austin.”

And as development continues to alter the look and population of the Montopolis neighborhood, she says, it’s urgent to keep conversations about the cemeteries going.

“If we’re not actively trying to be like, ‘Hey, this matters,’” she said, “it’ll get washed away.”

[nightglider124]

A Present For Dar - 2020 <3

Eyyyyy so in a way, time zones are like sorta working with me for once. Technically, in your zone, your day of birth has passed but in my zone, tis still going so... I’m counting it as on time ahsbsafadlg...

Anywho... HAPPY BIRTHDAY @dar-draws - ONE OF MY BESTEST PALS AND FAVOURITE LIL GREMLINS IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD! I hope you had a truly kickass day because you deserve it, you perfectly perfect gardening tool. I have been basically dead for a while now, I know. But I wanted to resurrect to ensure I gifted you with some wholesome famjam fluff from our favourite pair of disgusting individuals. 

I hope you like it and forgive me; it is not properly edited yet but ima do it. XD

I love you gurl and a very hip hop happy birthday <3 <3 <3

____________________________

Sunshine

The glass of the apartment windows rattled under the sheer force of wind that spiked outside, throwing all of its weight against the sides of the building, as if trying to break through. It squirmed and thrashed, almost like it was being restrained from wreaking the havoc and damage it was truly capable of. 

It howled and whined as it whistled between the clusters of charcoal clouds that still clung to the bleak night sky which formed the Earth’s backdrop, just until the break of dawn made itself known as it did with every new morning that came. 

Rain drops continued to splatter against the window panes, without a single sign of stopping any time soon. The heavens had well and truly opened as the downpour covered the sidewalks in water, rippling puddles lining the paths for those who dared to still be out in the storm that raged on through the night. 

The pitter-patter sound of the rain as it impacted the glass was deafening, a truly frightening level of volume as the city continued to endure one of the worst storms it had had in a long time. 

A clap of thunder had been faintly heard in the distance not so long ago and it was now a burning curiosity for anyone still awake at such a ghastly hour, to know just when the lightning would be accompanying its natural companion. 

And yet, despite the violent performance from Mother Nature, there was one particular man who had voluntarily gone out into it, just as he always did. It was his duty; a vow to the city he lived within, made many years ago that he would protect it, wherever possible.

Such a vow could not be broken, even when the wind and rain tried so desperately to hold him back from what he silently promised the citizens of Bludhaven. 

It made his job more difficult at times and of course, he was putting himself in harm’s way more. He knew that he could slip and fall from an outrageous height when the weather was like this; he knew he could be hurled into dangerous territory by the powerful winds but, he also knew that if he skipped a night of watching the city like a mysterious guardian, it could mean an innocent’s death at the hands of a criminal.

He decided that fact alone meant he would face obscene weather patterns, no matter the danger, each and every time if he had to. 

There was, however, an upside to the state of the elements when it worsened like it had. Criminals and levels of crime in general tended to decrease, especially when it finally reached 3am. 

Nightwing stifled a yawn as he swung through the gaps between tall buildings, being careful to maintain his grip on the handle of his grappling hook. He propelled himself forward, glimpsing at the few stars painted across the sky, ever so slightly hidden by the rain tinted veil beyond his mask. 

He aligned his arms to collect speed and momentum as he tumbled towards the empty streets below, his soaked ebony locks whipping around his face, only serving to get his skin wetter than before. 

The colors and lights of nearby structures passed his line of sight in a hazy blur as he hurtled towards the ground, smirking and opening his eyes just in time.

He shot his hook upwards, an audible zipping sound coming from the device as it locked onto the stone railing of a nearby pizza parlor. He swept over the ground, narrowly missing its touch by a single breath. 

Flying through the air, he felt alive; his heart buzzing and soaring like he was. He had felt flight in many ways and despite the love he had for his own way, he preferred another’s much more.

He envisioned her; the carefree way she spun and dove through the clouds, her scarlet hair coming to him in bright flashes and the way her emerald eyes sparkled as if basking in a secret shared that only the two of them knew about. 

He smiled and finally saw the location he desired; suddenly clamoring over rooftops and railings to reach it in haste. 

Once his final leap was complete and he was glued to the side of the building, he fiddled with the latch of one of the windows, attempting to ignore the way the rain beat down on him and trickled down the back of his neck and beneath his uniform. 

He clenched his jaw, unable to wait for the satisfying warmth that would soon cocoon him. 

When the window opened, he slid inside without delay and closed it again, locking it tight behind him. Nightwing released the breath he had been holding inside his chest and strolled towards one of the closest apartments in the hallway, disregarding all the other doors that lined the corridor of the floor he was on. 

There was only one that was on his mind and he felt his fluttering in his stomach beginning to stir at the thought of being inside. 

As he approached the dark stained entrance, he peered at the silver reflection of the door number before reaching into one of the back compartments of his belt and fishing out his keys. 

Slotting it into the groove of the lock, he gave it a few gentle twists as to not alert nor wake anyone within. Biting his lip, he grasped the handle and opened the door.

He pulled the key back and paused, noticing that the lights were all on from where he was stood, all the way into the lounge area. His dark brows furrowed in confusion but he avoided calling out any names, just in case. 

It was only after depositing his set of keys in the ceramic bowl that sat atop the oak console table, just to the right of the front door, did he hear it.

His interest and curiosity piqued with the faint sound of music, drifting from the living room and calling to him around the edge of the hallway. 

Slipping his mask from his face and stashing it on the table top, Dick silently crept along the border of the corridor, practically plastering himself to the wall as to not be detected.

He ran his gloved fingers against the peach stained walls, a warmth blossoming inside of him as he neared closer to the source of the upbeat music that filled his ears.

It was light and happy, a familiar tune that he heard often playing from the record player but it couldn’t be. She wouldn’t still be up at this hour, surely. 

Just as he drew close to the end of the hallway, more noises carried themselves through the air. 

Dick could hear the honey laced humming that was so akin to vocal ambrosia and so very familiar to his senses. It was such a relaxing sound that he melted against the wall for a long moment, simply becoming lost in the depth of her tone. 

He could hear gentle movement, back and forth and across the floor. Her feet were brushing against the carpet and what weight she owned shifted from floorboard to floorboard.

Dick’s grin only grew wider as he remained rooted to the spot, a hand pressed to the wall as he reveled in the homely sound of her voice. 

His brows hit his hairline when he heard a tiny giggle bubble up from another just beyond the bend of the wall. He knew that flourish of laughter as well; all too well. 

Unable to resist taking a peek, Dick moved a little more so that he could watch the scene before him. His heart constricted and he sucked in a breath, powerless to stop the serene smile that formed upon his lips. His cerulean gaze became a half lidded one as he soon started to lose himself in the trance of what stood before him.

Her long hair swayed around her hips like a waterfall of rubies, following the line of her body however she moved; a soft ribbon alive with the melodic tune that was coming from the turntable in the far corner of the living room. 

Her back was facing him before she spun and twirled around, her toes just about touching the floor as she danced to the music. Her golden skin was glowing in the dim light but her face was one of calm and peace, green eyes hidden for the time being as she enveloped herself in this moment, truly absorbing it like she would never have another.

She had yet to notice him but he could tell she was in her own little world as she continued to hum along to the song echoing and ricocheting off the walls. 

His smile grew at the little one in her arms; their first child of love and bundle of joy. Her disheveled locks of fluffy black hair framed her chubby face as she stared up at Kory with a glazed expression, her big jade orbs focused on nothing else besides her mother; almost as if nothing else even existed beside her beacon of light.

Her lips were upturned into an almost vacant smile; a few giggles escaping her whenever Kory leaned down and absently brushed her nose against her daughter’s button one. 

Dick leaned against the corner, his arms crossed over his chest as he simply watched them, his heart threatening to explode out of pure love and adoration for the woman and little girl in front of him. 

It was impossible to look away from them; his emotions catching in his throat at how at ease he felt, knowing this was his family. Despite the things he would see on patrol or the things he would have to fight out there, it was always a comfort to know this is what he would be coming back to.

When the day was over and the work was done, this little household was what held him together; no matter what kind of stress life threw in his direction. Everything was worth it because he had this. It was the only constant in his life and god, he wouldn’t swap it for anything else in the entire world. 

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine… you make me happy when skies are grey…” Kory whispered to her daughter, who was now pressing her tiny fingers to the soft skin of her mother’s cheek,

Dick felt his heart flip at how much love was injected into the quiet singing of his wife; a known fact that Mar’i was everything to her and to him, but it made him shiver to hear the way she sang to their child. He’d always known she would suit motherhood like no other on this Earth.

“You'll never know dear, how much I love you…” Kory paused and rested her forehead against her baby’s, “Please don’t take my sunshine away…”

Her tone was hushed and there was something so gentle in the air that Dick was petrified he would shatter by making his presence known.

“I love you, mama…” Mar’i whispered, her little arms gripping ever tighter around her mother’s neck. 

Kory smiled and exhaled quietly, pressing several kisses to her face, earning an uproar of laughter as she shifted her around in her arms, attacking her with affection whilst Mar’i continued to squeal with joy. 

Dick must have only moved a centimeter but it was enough to earn his wife’s attention. Her head turned towards his direction and her eyes snapped open, softening immensely when she saw who it was.

He smirked and gave her a muted wave in greeting.

Kory sighed in what appeared to be relief before she twisted Mar’i in her arms so she could also see who was home for the night, “Mar’i… look…”

His daughter’s reaction made his knees buckle a fraction and his heart melted from the thousand watt smile that lit up her entire face,

“Daddy!” She squealed, immediately squirming to get to him. 

Kory laughed and released her, watching as she padded across the space between in her purple, star covered pajamas, arms outstretched and desperate for cuddles from her father.

Dick was just as fast, scooping her straight up and lifting her high above his head before he pulled her close and cuddle her to his chest, pressing several kisses to her mess of dark hair. 

“Hi there, Starshine…” He murmured, stroking her back.

Mar’i pulled back with a frown, “Daddy is all wet!” 

He chuckled and leaned in, rubbing his damp cheek against hers, eliciting a loud bubble of laughter from the tiny toddler. She shook her head and wriggled away, all the while, a smile on her face.

“We can blame all the rain for that, honey.” 

Mar’i pouted and turned her nose upwards, “Bad rain!” 

Kory shook her head and drifted closer to the two of them, retrieving Mar’i back from him to ensure she didn’t get soaked through her warm pajamas, “Greetings, my love…”

Dick failed to stop the dopey grin that lit up his expression as he touched her waist and leaned close, “Hey…”

He captured her lips with his own, the frozen bite of his becoming soothed and rectified by the heat emanating from his beloved wife. Her skin was like fire; a calming heat amidst the treacherous weather outside. He always felt so much better within proximity of her, her surge of warmth lighting a room better than any kind of other device. 

She made a small sound at the back of her throat when he slipped his tongue against her bottom lip as he sought permission to deepen their gesture of love. Kory was about to oblige him before they were split apart by the dramatic retching sound of their 2 year old daughter.

When they pulled away, they both glanced at her as she pulled multiple expressions of disgust, 

“Blech!” She droned, grinning when they both issued her with a raised brow,

“I have a question for you, Starshine. What are you doing up? It’s way past your bedtime, isn’t it?”

Mar’i shrank a little against Kory’s shoulder, idly playing with the strands of her mother’s ember filled locks, 

“Mama said it was okay…” She mumbled, not wanting to get into trouble,

Dick blinked and turned his gaze to his wife who was passively staring back at him before she rubbed Mar’i’s back, “She couldn’t sleep… she was worried about daddy being out in the storm all alone.”

He visibly softened and smiled sympathetically at their child; a very deep thinker despite her youth, “So… I said we would wait up for you together.”

Kory tilted her head at him and waited for him to speak and when he did, it was nothing short of what she imagined him saying,

“Now that I’m home, Mar’i… how about I read you a bedtime story? Hm?” He murmured, tucking some of her black curls behind her ear,

Mar’i sat up straight and beamed at her father, “Story!” 

Dick chuckled and gave her cheek a kiss, “That’s right. Story with daddy and then sleepy byes, okay?”

She rapidly nodded, excited for the offer of a story before succumbing to slumber, as most children desired. 

Kory ran her fingers through her baby’s hair, marveling at the thickness of it all, “Do you want to pick out the story daddy reads to you?”

“Uh huh!” Mar’i approved, steeling herself as Kory lowered her to the floor. Mar’i shuffled along the carpet, her little legs carrying her as she scurried towards her bedroom, decorated with stars and splashes of violet and plum.

“Pick a good one, Mar’i and I’ll be there in a minute…” Dick called, already sensing his wife’s touch as her fingertips grazed his chest,

He turned back towards her, grinning at how close she was now, “Hello again, Kor…” 

She leaned towards him, barely whispering, “Hello…” before she pressed her cupid bow lips against his, her fingers sliding up from the front of his uniform to the line of his jaw, cupping his handsome face to hold him still as she snuck in some kisses.

Dick’s eyes closed on their own accord, falling deeper into the bliss that was his wonderful wife. He could feel the metal of her wedding ring against the skin of his cheek and he felt electric shoot through him; a reminder that she was his and he was hers, now and forever.

Sometimes, he found himself dwelling on just how lucky he’d been to have found her and how utterly thankful he was to have her in his life; to have her as his wife and to have her as the mother of his child. 

He could think of no better person to stand at his side for eternity and as he slipped his cold hands beneath the old t-shirt of his that clung to her torso, he smirked.

She gasped and pulled back, breathless, “That was not very nice.”

He brushed his nose against hers, his breath full of husk, “If I let you kiss me any longer, then we’d probably be on the floor and scarring Mar’i for life.”

Kory rolled her forest green eyes at him and gently smacked his arm, “You make it sound as if I have no self control around you.”

“Honey, I don’t think you do… that’s how we ended up with our little baby in there.” He replied, jerking his head in the direction of Mar’i’s room,

His Princess snorted and folded her arms over her chest, “Oh? I seem to forget… please… remind me who started talk about having a child?”

Dick chuckled and squeezed her hips, “Alright, ya got me…” 

Kory matched the serene smile that appeared on his face and ran her feathery touch along his chin, staring into his ocean eyes, “I am glad you are safe… I worry when you are patrolling in weather like this…”

His smile faltered a little, “I know… sorry I took longer… I ran into a drug deal going south and… I had to deal with it. They had someone hostage if this group didn’t deliver.”

Kory pecked the corner of his mouth, “I know… it is okay. All that matters is that you are home.” She paused, “Are you hungry?”

Dick grinned, “Famished…”

“Cereal or… leftover pizza?” 

“Hm… decisions, decisions.” 

She giggled and shook her head, opening her mouth to respond when they heard the rapidly approaching sound of tiny feet on wooden flooring,

“Daddy! Ready!” Mar’i squeaked, holding the picture book she wanted read to her, high above her head,

Dick glanced over his shoulder and lifted an eyebrow, “The Gruffalo, again?” 

Mar’i pouted, “It’s my favorite!”

He laughed and gently let go of his wife, “Alright, alright, c’mon. Get snuggled under the covers, then.”

Their daughter beamed at him before she spun and headed back into her room to do just that.

Dick smiled and looked back at Kory, “Duty calls… I’ll be back soon.” 

Kory sighed in content as he pressed a quick kiss to the palm of her hand before letting it go entirely. 

“Hurry… or I may just eat both of your snacking options.” She murmured, turning and wandering into the kitchen, winking at him over her shoulder.

Dick smirked and shook his head as he ambled towards Mar’i’s room, grateful to have all of this; always ready and always waiting for him after the longest of nights.

[crossiantgay]

Ch 1 of the Logince Princess and the Frog au!!!

This is my biggest fanfic by f a r . Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: voodoo, frogs, brief mention of food

Words: 5049

“Now here I’d like to tell you a story. A story that takes place right where we are, in the Big Easy. Down here in Louisiana, there’s a city you may have heard of, way down by the River. Does New Oreleans ring a bell? The place where jazz is always playin’ and you’re always guaranteed a good time. The lifestyle we live is as slow as the Mississippi. But you’ll have a treat down here in New Orleans. Oh, you haven’t lived if you haven't had a good bowl of gumbo with some grits. Or hear that smooth jazz that just sweeps you off your feet, mm, that’s the good stuff. If you want to truly live, come down to New Orleans to do it. We’ve got magic, sure do. Good and bad in New Orleans. Give ya what ya want but take what ya have. My dream since I was a youngin’ was to see New Orleans. You know, everybody got dreams. Rich people, poor people we all got dreams. This story I’m about to tell you focuses on one boy’s dream and the unusual way it comes true. Oh, this is a story of magic and love, plain and simple. The weird ways fate ties us together. Alright, I’ll stop stalling. You ready?”

“Please, I’m going to get the funds, I swear-” Logan begged to the bankers. 

“I’m sorry, where do you expect to get all this money? We can’t offer you a loan until we believe you can get the money to pay us back” They said, not budging a bit. 

“But-”

“We have made our decision.” An attendant escorted him to the door.  He gruffed and walked out. 

He had been saving up for so long for this library and a building finally opened up that he could buy, only for some big wigs to come in and make an offer higher than he could bid. This was his mother’s legacy, his dream. He just had to get this library, he didn't know what he’d do if he didn’t. He sighed, walking to his work at the school. He picked up a paper on his way to teach science at the Middle School in the area. It didn’t pay much, but it was the best job he could get. The paper’s headline was 

“Prince Roman of the Carnacty family coming to New Oreleans!” Logan sighed. Always ex-celebs who run out of luck coming to all the big cities to get their name in the headlines. He walked in the front door, greeting the attendant lady. His kids were already in the classroom, patiently waiting. Their mouths were going a mile a minute, he was trying to just get a snippet of the conversation. One kid said kind of loudly,

“I can’t believe he’s coming to New Oreleans! A real prince!!!” 

“Well he’s gonna marry me, I can already tell” One of the girls scoffed. He tried his best to stifle a laugh. It was well known the prince wasn't exactly into the princesses. Well, neither was he for that matter. Women were just so… dramatic. They all stopped talking as the bell rang, piercing through the room. Announcements crackled over the intercom, telling the kids that Math Club had been postponed and the basketball game tonight. He stood up from his desk, highly caffeinated and began teaching the kids. Amelia and Lucas raised their hands several times to ask questions during the lecture as expected. He let out a sigh of relief as the bell rang once again, signaling the end of school. He filed out quickly after the kids. He was supposed to meet with his dad today, one wednesday a month they got together to talk. God bless his father, when Logan was a child, he tried so hard to support Logan financially he rarely got a chance to spend with his son. But now that Logan was off on his own he and his father had some more time to spend together.  

He met his father on the block they’d agree they’d meet. He wanted to show his father the building he had his eye on for awhile. Technically they weren’t supposed to be there but oh well. He walked up the dusty stairs and pushed open two heavy dark oak doors to reveal an empty building with a staircase leading up to a second story. There were big french-style windows on the walls, illuminating the dusty room with a beautiful golden-white light. The building itself was made of bricks that were painted over a creamy tan color. Logan’s mind flooded with images of neat rows of bookshelves, with fluffy pillows and seating arrangements scattered around. The floors, polished to a shine and half of the upper floor dedicated to an information area and classes, taught by anyone who wanted to volunteer. But best of all, there would be a plaque on the back wall, visible right when you entered, saying “Dedicated to Mary L. Berry”. He would make his mother proud, do something right for once. He snapped out of his thoughts as his father said, 

“Sure is a fixer-upper” His dad chuckled a bit. 

“Well of course. I would rather add my own furnishings and make it my library than buy a dollhouse. There is so much room for improvement!” He walked towards the center of the building, getting bathed in light. 

“Isn’t it just astounding?” There were stars in his eyes. 

“Well, sure is… something.” HIs father tentatively walked towards Logan. The light died in his eyes. 

“...what? Is it not adequate?” The light died in his eyes as he turned towards his father. “If there’s anything you don’t like about, we can fix it” Logan’s father sighed and put a hand on his son’s shoulder. 

“Bub-” Oh no. His father only called him bub when something was wrong. “You don’t get money like this from teaching- or for waitering for that matter, either. Maybe something a bit smaller?” 

“It’s for mom though- it’s what she would have wanted” 

“First of all, she only wanted you to be healthy and safe. Second of all, you should be doing this for you, not to rekindle the embers of your mother’s dying dream.” Logan sighed. 

“I want to be a librarian though- It’s my dream, too” His father looked at him worriedly.

“If your heart’s in the right place, bub… either way, how are you going to get the money? People like us can’t afford such a lovely place.” 

“You like it?” Logan said excitedly. HIs father shot him a pointed look. 

“I’ve been saving up. I have enough to meet the market price” His father knew he wasn’t telling him something but he let it go. “I have been waiting so long for this, and it’s finally in my grasp. I just have to work a few more overtimes and I’ll-” His father cut him off. 

“Woah woah woah. I asked you before if you had the money. Do you or not?” Logan looked to the side. 

“There’s a higher bidder” 

“Oh…” 

Logan sighed and walked over to the door and opened it, rising up a cloud of dust. 

“We should go, we’re not supposed to be here anyway…” Logan’s dad gave a curt nod and tipped his hat. His father hailed a cab and hopped in. 

“See you soon!” He hollered as the driver took off. Logan nodded and waved as his father disappeared down the street. He sighed and let the tears that he was holding back roll down his cheeks as he looked to the building. 

“I was almost there…”   

(------)

One of his coworkers taunted him. “C’mon, the Mardi Gras party held by Charlotte every year is tonight. You guys grew up together, you should go!” He rolled his eyes and straightened his tie. 

“Mardi Gras parties are frivolous events where people get dressed up like little kids and get drunk on mimosas. Does that sound like something I would enjoy?” 

“Aww, you’re no fun.” His coworker whined.

“I am plenty of fun!” He huffed and put his hands on his hips. 

“Well if you were really fun you’d join us.” 

“Fine… I’ll go to your little party or whatever.” His coworker smiled.

“I knew I could convince you! It's a costume party, so dress up!” His coworker hollered from down the hall. He sighed. What had he gotten himself into? 

(~~~~) 

“C’mon Remus! We’re finally here! There are places to go, people to meet! Hurry up!” Roman hollered from up the street. Remus huffed as he adjusted to the bags he was holding. Roman’s bags. While his brother was what, talking to one of the locals? His brother never helped with anything. It was always up to Remus. 

“If you could maybe help I wouldn’t be so far behind” 

“ALL I HEAR IS EXCUSES, BROTHER! LET’S GO!” He didn’t know why Roman insisted on calling him ‘brother’. The way he treated Remus was as if he was a servant, not a royal. But of course, because Roman was first in line for the throne, nobody really cared about Remus. Was his name in the papers? Nope. It was just Roman’s. Everything was Roman, Roman, Roman. Remus grudgingly quickened his pace as he followed his brother. 

“Isn’t this a lovely city?” Roman stretched out his arms. 

“Yeah…” Remus mumbled. 

“...is there a problem, brother?” Remus rolled his eyes. 

“No, everything’s a-ok” Roman sighed. 

“What is it, and let’s not let your terrible mood leave a stain on this vacation” Remus did his best not to punch his brother in the face. He sighed. 

“Nothing…” Roman smiled. 

“Then let’s go, see the sights, eat the food!” He sped ahead and Remus sighed. He watched his brother talk to another shop owner. He looked up and Roman was being escorted into the man’s shop. 

“WAIT-” Remus rushed in behind him. He turned a corner into the entranceway for the shop his brother went into. He looked up as he left the bags outside. The sign on the top of the door read 

“Dr.Janus’s Fortune Tellings and Palm Readings” This was insane. Stick it to his brother to get his fortune read. You stay rich and Mom and Dad make you marry. You inherit the crown and you live happily ever after. It didn’t take a genius to know that was what would happen. Well, he had the money to spend. He sighed and walked into the building. The ‘shop’ had a high ceiling and dust coated the floors. The place was very poorly-lit, the only light in the building coming from a few lamps hung from the walls. Speaking of the walls, they were a dark mauve. They were ordained with intricate-looking masks, of every color and shape. 

“SSSit down, gentlemen.” The lean man ushered them to a dusty and old looking circular brown table. As the man turned to them, he saw half of the man’s face appeared to be covered with scales. 

“Welcome, you’re in my world now, not your world. I’ve got friendss on the other sside.” The man’s voice was slippery and he was drawing out his s’s. Roman faked a smile and nodded. He didn’t want to be rude but this was creeping him out. 

“Sit down at my table, Put your minds at ease, if you relax it will enable me to do anything I please.” The man’s long tailcoat swished behind him as he turned and smirked. 

“I can read your future, I can change it ‘round some, too” Roman’s disgust soon turned to awe.

“Really?”

“Really, yes.” He smirked and grabbed a black top hat from one of the hooks on the wall. 

“I'll look deep into your heart and soul,” he looked to Remus and nudged him. “You do have a soul, don’t you, Remus?” Remus sat back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. 

“How do you know my name?” 

The man, who he assumed to be Dr.Janus, turned over his shoulder. His light brown eye almost seemed to glow yellow as sunlight caught it. 

“I have my wayss…” He glanced over at his brother and his brother was wiggling in his seat, Roman looked as if he was about to watch a magic show. Dr.Janus pulled a deck of cards out of his sleeve and placed them on the table. He pulled out some other things, a ragdoll and a pendant.

“I’ve got voodoo, I’ve got hoodoo, I’ve got things I ain’t even tried,” He ran a gloved finger over the designs that were etched into the wood pendant. 

“And I’ve got friends on the other side.” Roman looked worried. 

“Hey, Remus, maybe we should go, we have that um, royal thing we have to attend. Remus caught his arm and pulled him down back into the chair. 

“C’mon, brother, right when things get interesting you wanna scatter?” This act had piqued Remus’ interest. “You always tell me to be brave, why not take some of your own medicine?” Roman looked to his brother and sighed. Dr.Janus swallowed and began shuffling the cards. 

“The cards, the cards, the cards will tell, the past, the present and the future as well.” He laid down three cards to demonstrate. 

“Thesse are Tarot cards, cards that have a deep connection with the other side” Remus thought he was seeing things as a red light flickered in the ‘eyes’ of one of the large masks on the back wall. “The cards, the cards, just take three. Take a look into your future with me” He fanned out the cards face-down and displayed them in front of them. Remus eagerly grabbed three cards and Roman tentatively followed suit after. Dr.Janus motioned for the boys to flip the cards over, grinning.  Roman flipped the first one over, first. It read ‘the sun’ and had a very detailed gold inking of the sun in the center. 

“You, young man, are from across the sea,” Dr.Janus began. “You come from two longs lines of royalty.” Roman flipped the other card over. It read ‘the hermit’; with another gold design on its ‘face’. “Your lifestyle’s high,” Dr.Janus turned the card upside down. “But your funds are low. You’ve got to marry a little sonny who’s daddy’s got dough” Roman raised an eyebrow and Remus laughed.

“Really? Ol’ Mommsies and Popsicle cut you off?” Remus laughed and clutched his stomach. Roman elbowed his brother. 

“I understand. You just wanna enjoy life, be free. Hop from place to place. But freedom takes green.” Dr.Janus rubbed his fingers. “It’s the green, it’s the green, it’s the green you need.” Dr.Janus flipped over the next card. “And in your future it’s the green that I see” The card read ‘ten of pentacles’ on the top of it and a gleam flashed in Roman’s eye as he grinned. Dr.Janus turned to Remus. 

“On you, young man, I don’t want to waste much time, you’ve been pushed around all your life,” Remus scowled and Dr.Janus flipped over the first card. The card read ‘justice’ on the top and was upside down. “You’ve been pushed around by your mother and your father and your brother,” Remus knitted his brows. “And even if you were the best you can be, you’d still be pushed around” Dr.Janus turned over the next card and it read ‘the fool’, also upside down. Remus glared at Dr.Janus and Roman held Remus back from lunging at Dr.Janus. Dr.Janus, however, was unmoved. 

“But in your future, the you I see,” He turned over the final card. “Is the man you’ve always wanted to be” This card read ‘chariot’ and was upright. 

Dr.Janus took off his gold gloves to reveal scaly hands. He extended a hand out to each of them. 

“Shake my hand, c’mon boys, won’t you shake a poor sinner’s hand?” 

Remus eagerly shook his hand quickly and Roman hesitated before giving a strong shake of Dr.Janus’s hand. 

“Yessss,” The man hissed and his right eye glowed yellow. Smoke filled the room. 

“Are you ready? Are you ready?” There was a strong beating noise, almost sounding like footsteps or a heartbeat. Roman felt his forearms tighten and he looked down as two golden pythons twisted themselves around his arms, pinning him to the chair. Weird shadows danced across the walls and Remus thought he could almost hear other voices. 

“Transformation central,” Dr.Janus hissed as he held up the wooden pendant.”Transformation central,” He walked over to Roman, unfazed by what was occurring around them. His scales on his face and hands glowed yellow in the shift of lighting and the smoke.

“Transformafication central, can you feel it?” Roman yelped as something pricked his finger. Smoke filled the room up to their heads and the boys’ vision was obscured. 

“You’re changing, you’re changing, you’re changing, all right,” The man’s yellow eye and scales were the only things visible to the thick fog encompassing them. The beating grew steadily louder as Remus felt a pendant slip around his neck.

“I hope you’re satisfied. But if you ain’t, don’t blame me,” His eye and scales glowed bright yellow, almost blinding them.  “you can blame my friends on the other side” And as Dr.Janus uttered that last word, the beating stopped and everything became encompassed in darkness. They could still see the aftershine of the man’s eye and scales long after it faded out. 

(~~~~)

Logan hovered by the snack table, not wanting to get dragged onto the dance floor and be made a fool of. Patton hurried over to him, in a baby blue dress. 

“Isn’t this just amazing? And rumor is Prince Roman’s supposed to get here soon! Imagine us! Meeting a real prince!” Patton’s golden curly hair flew up as he jumped in excitement. Logan smiled and toasted a glass. “By the way I love your prince costume You see, Larry and his wife are a horse over there, lovely costume. And your coworker, Daisy is dressed as a- I’m not quite sure. Anyway, I’m going to go see if the prince is here yet!”

“Knock yourself out, Pat” Logan forced a smile and watched as Patton hurried out to the dance floor. 

(~~~~) 

Remus awoke groggily. He sat up slowly and looked down. 

“Wha-” He sat up and looked at his hands. They didn’t look like his. These weren’t his clothes, either. No- he couldn’t- He rolled up his sleeve and his suspicions were confirmed. His brother had a scar on his bicep, from when they got in a swordfight as kids. 

“Who did this?” He yelled. 

“I see you’re up,” Dr.Janus hissed from another room. 

“What did you do to me?” He shakily stood up and gripped the side of the chair. He felt like he was walking in too-big shoes. Dr.Janus walked out of his office and stood beside Remus.

“Now, what you’re going to do is you’re going to go to the party tonight. There’s a boy, Patton Hudson. His father is the richest person in New Orleans. If you’re able to woo him, you’ll be rolling in the dough. You’ll be more famous than even your brother. Doesn’t sound spectacular?” Remus nodded and Dr.Janus placed two firm hands on Remus’ shoulders.

“I can do that,” Remus nodded, now sure of what he had to do. 

“Good boy. One thing, however.” Dr.Janus placed his hands on the necklace and lifted it up. Remus shuddered as he looked down at his hands again. Callused and worn, unlike his brother’s smooth ones. 

“Don’t take this necklace off or the illusion will fail. Alright?” He slipped the necklace back around Remus’ neck and he nodded. He smirked and ran a hand through his brother’s soft, brown hair. 

“Let’s do this.” 

(~~~~) 

Logan sighed as he rested his hands on the balcony railing. He watched as a glowing prince made his way down the stairs to the partygoers. Of course, once he did, Patton was the first to greet him. Logan sighed. He didn’t get the obsession people had with this prince. 

“I know. I look absolutely hideous in that outfit.” Logan jumped back as he looked to his left where the voice came from. 

“Who said that??” he looked around worriedly. All he saw was a frog sitting on the balcony railing. 

“Over here, monsieur.” Logan looked at the frog. 

“I need to sit down. I think there was something in that drink. There is NO WAY a frog is talking to me” Logan gripped the railing as he appeared to turn a bit pale. 

“Well think again. It is I, Prince Roman” The frog hopped closer to Logan. 

“No- the great Prince Roman is out there dancing with Patton Hudson.” 

“Pfft! That is not I! That must be someone else.” Logan scoffed. 

“Well then who is it?” 

“I’m not sure. I should have never talked to that man. Now I am a slimy frog while someone is using my body. And they say fairy tales aren’t real-” Logan turned to Roman. 

“Wait what man?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“It was Dr.- something. He had a black hat and yellow gloves-” Logan’s eyes widened. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve been messing with Dr.Janus. Nobody messes with the snake man- everyone knows that.” Dr.Janus had dark magic. You didn’t mess with him. Of course Logan had heard the rumors of strange and unworldly things happening to people that talked to him. 

“Well I just got here 2 days ago and I guess I must have missed that on the brochure.” Roman snapped and  Logan sighed. 

“I feel bad for you, but what can I do about that?” Roman looked down and Logan raised an eyebrow. 

“... you could kiss me. I know it sounds insane, but if this is anything like that children’s story, I need to be kissed to be turned human.” Logan jumped back. 

“You mean that fairytale, the Princess and the Frog? Those are fiction books for children!” 

“Well then do you have a book detailing what to do if you get miraculously turned into a frog by any chance?” Logan sighed. 

“Either way, I’m not kissing a frog. No way Even if you weren’t a frog I wouldn’t kiss you. I just met you.” Roman let out a scoff. 

“I am not that ugly!” 

“I never said you were ugly.” Logan said flaty. 

“So you think I’m cute?” Roman wiggled his eyebrows and Logan felt a heat rise to his cheeks. 

“No-NO- I never said you were cute either-” 

“But you think it,” Roman smirked. 

“You are really arrogant, you know that?” Roman blinked. “And stupid, too. It means self-centered.” Roman mouthed an ‘oh’. 

“I am not arrogant! I am gorgeous!”

“Well if not that then you sure are stupid. I’m not the one that got myself turned into a frog.”

“Speaking of that-” Roman cleared his throat. 

“No, for the last time I am not kissing you.” 

@subtlereferencetomyinterests

[myforeverforlife]

love in the air.

Jongdae is the most cheerful of his friends and coworkers, never seen without a smile on his face. But sunny days come with their handful of gloomy ones as well, leaving Jongdae feeling out of sorts. The break in his stormy sky comes to him in the form of you, and your sudden request. 

Word Count: 3,846

CBX Detectives Masterlist: (Minseok)  (Baekhyun)  (Jongdae)

Masterlist 

CBX Investigations was never crowded, seeing as there were only three investigators and one secretary. But now that Minseok and his newly wedded wife were off on their honeymoon, the office was the emptiest it had ever been. 

Jongdae leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other as he listened to his business partner continue his lovesick monologues about the girl he was courting. 

"I almost died when I heard that her father would be there for supper that night," Baekhyun exclaimed, eyes wide as if he was reliving the events all over again. "If it wasn't for our work with the police department, I'm sure he would have knocked me out onto the street right then and there." 

Jongdae hummed with disinterest, spinning a pen around with his fingertips as he stared out the window. 

"Hey," Baekhyun called out, leaning across their joined desks and knocking against the panels of polished oak. "Anybody home?" 

"Hm? Sorry, what did you say?" Jongdae dropped his pen onto the desk, sitting up straight and letting out a heavy sigh. 

"You've got your head in the clouds all the time. What's bothering you, old fellow?"

"You're older than me!" Jongdae exclaimed indignantly, scowl deepening when Baekhyun cackled in delight.

The older man quickly grew serious again when he saw the wistful look return to Jongdae's face. "Really, Jongdae. What's wrong?"

Jongdae shrugged, eyes focused on the tree growing outside their office. The leaves were a mossy green, sunlight dappling spots here and there as the afternoon breeze tickled at the tree branches. "I'm just lonely, I suppose. You and Minseok have always been my dearest friends, and seeing both of you off on these new journeys makes me wish that I had something like that." 

Baekhyun sat silent in thought, searching for the right way to console his friend. Jongdae was the most reserved of the three of them, keeping his sorrows to himself and choosing to show only his brightest sides. “You know, there's someone that Chanyeol knows, a friend of his sweetheart. I'm sure he'd be able to put in a good word for you — ”

"Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it, but I think I'll pass." Jongdae stood, picking up his hat and heading for the door. "I'm going out for a walk." 

Baekhyun would have offered to come along, but he knew that his friend needed some space. "Alright. Don't stay out too long." 

Jongdae nodded, slipping his hat onto his head and opening the door to the vestibule. Right as he got the door open, he bumped into another person. 

You were just on your way in, reaching out for the handle when the door swung open and you collided with a man's chest. 

"I'm so sorry," Jongdae apologized immediately. "Are you hurt?" Your hat brim covered your eyes, soft curls slipping out from your low bun and framing your face. 

Stepping back with a soft laugh, you shook your head. "I'm fine. I'm just glad that I didn't run into this glass door instead." Once you looked up, Jongdae was surprised to find that he recognized your face.

"Miss Y/N," he greeted, taking off his hat out of respect. "How do you do?"

"I'm doing well, thank you, Mr. Kim. Are you on your way out?" 

"I am. It's a beautiful day outside, and I'm itching to head outdoors. But did you need something, Miss Y/N?" Jongdae couldn't help but indulge in his curiosity. It wasn't often that he saw you outside of the library where you worked, always looking so peaceful and at home among your stacks of books. 

"It's a small favor of mine," you began. "If this isn't a good time, perhaps I could come back some other day."

"That won't be necessary," Jongdae assured you. "If you like, we can discuss this outside." 

You nodded, a relieved smile gracing your lips. "I would greatly appreciate that."  

Jongdae didn't dare to offer you his arm as both of you walked side by side along the cobbled pavement. There was always the possibility that you had a beau, the sudden flicker of jealousy in his chest taking him by surprise. It wasn't like you two were well acquainted — he only ever met you outside of the library whenever you were walking home. He cleared his throat, putting both hands behind his back as he continued to walk. "What is it that you wanted to talk about?" he asked nonchalantly.

Your teeth bit down on your lipstick-painted lip as you thought about how to phrase your concern. "There have been books missing from the library. It always occurs in the history section, but we never notice anything missing until the next morning. The head librarian believes that one of the staff must be misplacing them, but it seems like too much of a coincidence to me." 

"Could it be possible that one of the staff is taking the books home without making any record of them?" Jongdae questioned.

"Possibly, but I doubt it. We've been trained to keep every book documented." 

Jongdae read the hesitation on your face, and paused in his steps. "Do you have an idea of who took the books?"

You sighed, glancing down fingers playing with the hem of your glove before making eye-contact. "There's a girl, little Catherine, who comes in almost every day and practically lives in the history section. She's very intelligent for her age, and seems to devour books more quickly than anyone I've ever met." 

"Why do you believe it's Catherine?"

Your mouth opened, before shutting as you looked away. "Catherine's family is well-known in the area. Her mother and father are kind people, but struggle to keep their children adequately clothed and fed, especially with five children." You turned back to face Jongdae, eyes shining with desperation. "I know that she wouldn't do it for a cruel trick like some other children would. She loves her books, has even walked through the rain in nothing but her brother's hand-me-down boots just to spend a couple of hours in the library. I just... I can't let any harm come to this child." 

Jongdae was rendered speechless by your sudden outburst, and extremely touched at the same time. He knew of your fondness for children, the sweet praises of "dear Miss Y/N" that fell easily from their lips on the rare days that he went to visit the library. But he couldn't let his respect for you cloud his judgement. "Why would she take the books outright instead of borrowing them?"

"Some of Catherine's older brothers have had a history of losing or returning books in worn-out condition. Because of that, the head librarian will only let her read the books inside the library." You let out a huff of exasperation, eyes hardening. "It isn't fair to remove her library privileges if she had nothing to do with the other books. I can't help but feel sorry for that poor girl. If I were in her shoes, I would feel compelled to do the same thing!" 

Jongdae was nodding in agreement before he could stop himself, something that didn't escape your notice. “And if the head librarian were to find out...”

"Catherine wouldn't even be able to step foot inside," you finished. "Mr. Kim, I have to find a way to stop the books from disappearing without getting her barred from entering. Please," you begged.

"I'll do everything that I can to help," he agreed. "But first, we need to make sure that Catherine is the one with the books. When does she usually come by?"

"Almost every other day, after school gets out." 

"I'll be sure to come by then, to do some observing."

Jongdae would have agreed a hundred times over just to see you smile as you did now, relieved to finally be making some progress. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Kim! I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am." 

"It's really nothing," Jongdae replied humbly, rocking back on his heels as he gave an awkward chuckle.  

There was nothing but pure warmth in your eyes as you shook your head. 

"It means the world to me." 

There wasn't anything out of the ordinary about Catherine. Jongdae had spent the last couple of hours half-focused on the book before him while discreetly studying the small child. Her school materials lay forgotten on top of the table while she read, hunched over her book. The bow in her hair was faded, the tip of her socks peeking though a tiny hole in her beaten up boots. But little Catherine's face was animated as she read, clear eyes widening at certain parts, lips pouting whenever she came across something distressing or confusing. 

Jongdae met your eye a couple of times, reading the soft adoration you had for this child. Even from your spot at the reference desk, you kept a watchful eye over her. 

When it was time for the library to close, Jongdae watched as Catherine lugged her heavy book back to the history section and slid it back into its spot in the shelf. She gathered up her school materials before saying goodbye to you, heading home for supper. 

Once everyone else had left, you and Jongdae ventured over to the history section and looked for the book that Catherine had been reading. 

"This is the one," Jongdae pointed out, finger resting on a blue spine. He let out an impressed whistle upon reading the title. "A History of European Explorers in the 16th Century.”

"She's very intelligent," you said proudly, as if Catherine were your own child. "Last week, she was fixated on autobiographies." 

"But she didn't take this," Jongdae commented. "Unless she knows of your suspicions."

"Possibly." You sighed, a heavy sound that held all of your worries about the situation. "I hope that I'm wrong about suspecting her.”

Jongdae nodded in agreement. "I hope so too, Miss Y/N. She seems like a sweet girl.” 

He waited as you cleaned and locked up the library. The sun was almost completely swallowed up by the sky, signs of nighttime slowly creeping behind. Jongdae offered to walk you home, something that you gladly took him up on. Conversation was sparse for a while, both of you unused to speaking to each other beyond simple greetings and thoughts about the disappearing books. A group of boys playing baseball in the street prompted you to ask Jongdae if he partook in any sports or recreations activities, something he laughed over and denied. For Jongdae, work took up most of his time. 

"Whenever I'm free, I often go visit my mother and father, or see what some of my musically talented friends are working on." 

You didn't have much musical talent, but the beauty of music and musicians at their craft never ceased to amaze you. Both of you instantly launched into a conversation about certain musicians, up-and-coming jazz clubs, and even Jongdae's own forays into playing the piano. 

All too soon, he was dropping you off at home. "Thank you for escorting me home, Mr. Kim." You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, the light from the street-lamps casting a shadow over part of your face. "I know that you usually don't walk this way to get home."

Jongdae shook his head, an easy grin on his face. "It was no trouble at all, Miss Y/N. I'm glad to see you home safely."

Before you could speak, your sister was opening the front door. Her mouth was open, just about to greet you enthusiastically and tell you to hurry and come in when she noticed your guest. "Oh. Hello there!" 

With a blush, you introduced your sister and Jongdae to each other, hoping that your sister wouldn't do anything to embarrass you.

"Y/N's never brought a man home for dinner," she said saucily, completely ignoring your glare. "Would you like to come in and join us?"

"Actually, I was about to head home myself. But thank you," Jongdae added cheerily. 

"That's a shame. Perhaps you'd like to come back another time?"

You bounded up the front steps to your house, clutching onto your sister's hand and sending her a loaded glance. "We wouldn't want to inconvenience Mr. Kim, would we?" Your emphasis on the last words didn't go unnoticed by her or Jongdae, the man trying to hide his amusement.

"Good night, Miss Y/N," he called out, tipping his hat to you and your sister. "I'll make sure to come by the library again." 

"Good night," you weakly managed to get out. You and your sister watched him walk away until he was merely a speck in the distance. Once you were sure he couldn't hear you, you spun around, placing your hands on your sister's shoulders.

"I cannot believe you would do that to me, in front of Mr. Kim of all people," you whined. 

"Is he a suitor? You didn't tell me you were courting a man!" she gushed.

"I am not having this conversation with you right now," you huffed, walking past her and into the house. 

Jongdae's steps were light as he walked home, hands stuffed in his pockets while he whistled a fragment of a tune he had been working on. Baekhyun had joked about his new acquaintance, stating that "love was in the air, and nothing would be able to stop it". Jongdae had only taken it as one of Baekhyun's silly jokes, not paying much attention to his teasing.

But something had certainly changed, although Jongdae couldn't put his finger on it. 

Perhaps love was in the air.

The next day, Jongdae came by the library although both of you weren't expecting Catherine to come until the day after. He was taken aback by the surprise on your face, waiting to come up to the reference counter until you were done helping an older woman. 

"The book is gone, the same one that Catherine was reading yesterday," you said in a low whisper.

Jongdae's eyebrows jumped up. "But she only comes in every other day." 

"And she's in school right now. She couldn't have come by earlier, since we were still closed." You tapped your fingers worriedly against your desk, only stopping when you realized how loud the sound was in such a quiet library. "I don't understand. Maybe it is someone else." 

The private investigator leaned against the counter, twirling his hat in his hands as he thought. "Is there anyone else that comes in after closing?" 

"No, and if there are any staff staying after hours to clean, it's always documented. I was the last one here yesterday." 

Jongdae's eyes swept over the library, looking for anything else out of place. "Is there another entryway, somewhere that a person could easily slip through undetected?” 

"I don't think so. There's only one other back door, but only staff have access to those keys." 

"Do you mind if I take a look around the library?"

"No, please, go ahead." 

A careful inspection of the back entry only backed up your statement. There were no signs of rust, any weak points of signs of forced entry — not that Jongdae expected a child of Catherine’s size to be able to force open a door this heavy. 

There were no windows in the staff office, so there was no way someone could enter through there. This led Jongdae on a long study of each window, making sure that each one fastened tightly. When nothing else seemed out of the ordinary, he went outside. 

Various bushes were planted alongside the library walls, vibrant flowers painted against lush greenery. The windows seemed fine from the outside as well, no cracks or subtle gaps in the glass. 

Jongdae was almost at his wits end, one hand running through his hair when he noticed something shining in the dirt. He knelt by the window, one knee in the dirt as he looked for the source. He almost mistook it for a rock, but once Jongdae looked closer and picked it up, his face lit up with realization.

Little Catherine wasn't afraid of the dark, not when she had four older brothers pulling all sorts of tricks and mischief at all hours of the day. She had read her book in the library, dutifully putting it away and saying goodbye to you before walking down the street. When she saw you leave, once again with that strange man, she crept to the back of the library. 

Catherine dug around in the dirt looking for her key, the one her oldest brother had once stolen from the library. He never told her about it until he heard why she stopped bringing borrowed books home. Taking pity on his little sister, the boy gave her the key but made her promise not to tell anyone about it. 

With key in hand, Catherine slowly turned the lock, grateful that these windows were locked from the outside. She always felt the sharp pangs of guilt when doing this, thinking of the kindness that you and some of the other staff showed her. But then she thought of the head librarian's cruelty, and her resolve only hardened. 

After climbing in carefully, Catherine made sure to close the window silently behind her. She wandered in between shelves of books until she found the one she had been reading earlier that day. With a gasp of delight, she reached out, pulling the book from the shelf and cradling it in her arms.

"Catherine?"

Surprised by the voice, Catherine dropped the book to the floor, face pale with shock. She looked up to see you and Jongdae, confused by the lack of anger on your faces.

"I thought it was you," you murmured, crouching down and picking up the book. "Are you the one who's been taking the books recently?"

The girl nodded, hot tears stinging her eyes at being caught, and by one of her favorite librarians, no less. "I didn't want to be bad," she sniffled out. "But I love the books so much, and I couldn't even borrow them." 

"I know," you assured her, only surprising the girl even more. "And I know how unfair it felt, being punished for something you didn't do." You took in a deep breath, steadying your nerves. "Where are the books now?"

"At home." Catherine wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, tears and snot mixing there. "Under my brother's bed." 

You pulled out your handkerchief, offering it to her when she wiped her face with her sleeve again. She mumbled out a soft "thank you" before burying her face in the fabric.

"Catherine," you began gently, waiting until she resurfaced. "I'm not here to tell the head librarian about what happened. But I do need the books, and your key back. If you can bring them back, I'll find a way for you to borrow some books." 

"How?" the girl asked, a hiccup cutting her off. Jongdae had to turn around to hide his smile. 

"If you see a book that you like, I will borrow it for you on your behalf. But I need you to keep the books in good condition until it's time to return them, otherwise I won't be able to do this anymore. Do we have a deal?"

Catherine sniffed back her last tears, nodding vigorously before shaking your hand. "I'll bring them tomorrow!" she exclaimed, already feeling better.

"Alright," you agreed. You smiled with satisfaction when Catherine gave you the key, proud of her for doing the right thing. 

"Come on," Jongdae spoke up, nodding towards the door. "I'll walk your home before your family starts to worry." 

Catherine tried to give you back your handkerchief, but you shook your head. "A lady always needs a good handkerchief," you told her. 

The girl's face brightened at your words, and she folded it up carefully before putting it in her dress pocket. "I'll take good care of it!" she said proudly, waving goodbye as Jongdae held the door open for her.

"I'll be back to walk you home," he told you, hurrying away before you could protest. 

Seeing as you had a good fifteen minutes left on your hands, you took your time organizing your cleaning space. It was a little later than expected before you heard Jongdae's step on the front stairs. 

"She made it home safely?" you asked, pulling your coat on.

Jongdae nodded, laugh lines appearing on his face. "When we got there, we saw some of her brothers playing outside. A baseball got stuck in a tree, and so as a gentleman, I had to help." 

You joined in the laughter, picking a stray leaf out of Jongdae's hat and showing it to him. "Are you sure you wouldn't have climbed up there anyways, gentleman or not?”

"Perhaps." Jongdae's impish smile gave him away, and you shook your head in mock disbelief. 

You couldn't help but notice how carefree he seemed to be as he walked you home. When you pointed it out to him, he pushed his hat further back on his head, exposing his forehead. 

"I suppose it's the satisfaction of closing a case successfully. You made Catherine very happy today," he added softly, casting you a sideways glance. 

"I did what I could to help her. You would have done the same." 

"I would. But not many others would have.”

You shrugged, swinging your purse lightly between your hands as you walked, heels click-clacking against the pavement. "Possibly. I was just being a good neighbor." 

Jongdae was touched by your humility, by how you refused to take more recognition for your efforts. "I'm sure she'll be very thankful for a long time, Miss Y/N," he said tenderly. 

Taken aback by the sudden shift in his voice, you looked up, face heating up when you saw only sweet admiration there. 

Your house came into view, and Jongdae was hit with the realization that he wouldn't have an excuse to see you now that the case had been solved. You stopped before the front gate, turning to face Jongdae. 

"Mr. Kim, would you like to come inside for supper?"

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to intrude," he began weakly, already starting to give in.

You smiled, shaking your head. "It's not considered intruding if I'm inviting you in." 

Jongdae couldn't argue with that. "Well in that case, I'd be delighted to join you for supper," he said warmly. 

With a triumphant grin, you opened the gate, calling out to your sister as Jongdae took off his hat and stepped inside. He followed you up onto the front porch, lingering by the doorway as you entered the house. 

Not too long ago, Jongdae had been feeling alone, even with his work and friends to keep him company. Who would have known that all it took was a visit from you to change everything? Although his friend had been joking, Baekhyun was right.

Love was in the air. 

CBX Detectives Masterlist: (Minseok)  (Baekhyun)  (Jongdae)

A/N: like all of my jongdae fics, I did more writing for this than I initially expected LOL but I hope that you guys like this impromptu final part to the cbx series! I never even meant to continue it after doing minseok’s as a request for the drabble game, but I kept thinking about it and how much I wanted to write about this era from other viewpoints as well. doing research has definitely been fun, especially when it came to writing y/n in each story. I loved writing the shy, secretary main character in minseok’s fic, and had fun writing the prim and proper socialite for baekhyun’s. having a sweet, kid-friendly, down-to-earth librarian for jongdae’s part of this series just rounds it all out for me, and re-reading through these just makes me so proud? 

[sicprowl]

Gleann na Dùin

Fairy AU - Dimileth

Co-written with @hiddenfangirling

Part 2

Now on AO3

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, King of Faerghus, and his ever loyal vassal, Dedue, rested a moment on their path. They had been on a tour of the border for some weeks, something he personally did every year. As they sat atop their horses to drink from canteens, the forest to one side caught Dimitri’s eye.

Gleann na Duin was known to be the home of fairies, the Sidhe, and so was usually avoided.

Dimitri, despite the respect he had for Fae lore, couldn’t help but think this forest would be a fine place to hunt.

He climbed off his horse, the beast nickering and shifting from hoof to hoof as he set an intent gaze just inside the tree border.

"Give me a moment, Dedue. I would like to go check something."

“As you wish, your Highness. “ Dedue gave a small bow from atop his own horse, and began to rummage in a saddlebag for fruit and cheese for when his master returned.

Dimitri stepped through the thicket of trees with little trouble, pretty pebbles and stones skittering about his steel boots while his hands worked to push aside branches.  He almost had to fight a twig to release strands of blond hair, gauntlet swatting impatiently at the offending appendage before he was free.

He released a short exhale.

Then immediately felt how different the atmosphere was.

Hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.  His skin shuddered in soft prickles and the king had a strange urge to sneeze.  But none of it compared to how fast his heart began to thumpthumpthump in his chest.

Dimitri swallowed, recalling stories of men who experienced the same sensations - to fall for the allure of the bizarre and unique, only to disappear without a trace.  Never to be seen from again.

Yet there was a game trail ahead.  Something that was more nature-made, more familiar, then a string of stories that were told to him as a child.  And so he curiously followed it, wondering what kind of animal had made it.

A breeze wafted past his ear, carrying the sound of lilting flutes.  He focused, eyes closed and hand gripping his lance as his ears strained for the pleasing melody.

Soft high notes...long, gentle, wistful.

Dimitri turned to what he thought was the east and notes that it’s the same direction as the game trail.  How convenient.

The warrior King crouched and studied the soil, observing a mixture of game; rabbits, maybe a boar, even deer.  He blinked and stood up, curious at what other varying creatures reside here and how many could fill the tables and stomachs of the people in his home.

He ventured further in, careful to stay on the trail while straining his ears for the soothing melody.

As he ducked under a fallen tree, the King spotted claw marks on another nearby, possibly a bear. He must definitely make plans with the others for a grand hunt here. Dimitri smiled at the thought of his friend Felix, excited for a hunt but pretending not to be.

A moment more and he stopped in his tracks. The forest was nearly silent, the flutes were no longer playing.  He spun back the way he came, and realized he had gone much further than intended. The tree line was no longer in view. Instead, bright blue eyes focus on the tall stones he had just passed through, and the mushrooms at his feet. He cursed, and pushed back down the path with a new sense of urgency.

Then everything grew quiet.

A kind of quiet that rang in one's ears after a powerful spell.  The kind that set your teeth on edge and made your mind ache for the simplest of sounds.

Dimitri couldn't help but feel unnerved.  The back of his neck felt like it was burning while every inch of his skin grew cold with foreboding.

He sneezed before cursing under his breath, feeling like the noise echo loud enough to fill the entire forest.

The King looked around, on edge when he saw nothing but underbrush, trees, and stillness.

"I should head back…”  He said, unsure why he was talking out loud.  “Dedue will grow worried."

But as he looked through the trees, Dimitri realized he didn't recognize the path he just walked. The colors were different, the smells too. There were plants here that he had never seen before, and he realized belatedly one had snaked around his ankle and was attempting to pull him down. He recoiled in surprise(and maybe a little in horror), tearing the vine from the ground in the process.

His eyes scrambled to find something, anything familiar. Finding nothing, the King decided to take a chance.

"Dedue! Dedue can you hear me!?”

He yelled in the direction he thought he came from. His words don't seem to travel as far as they should - simply eaten by the trees.

The silence fell thick again and Dimitri knew he had to move. He picked a direction and started to walk. More plants, this time with thorns, crossed his path and he cut them down with his lance. He thought he saw eyes staring at him from the foliage but he ignored them, trying to look intimidating (he'd been told he's very good at it).

Dimitri looked for any sort of landmark he thought he could use, wildly wishing he had not gone on this adventure in the first place.  All of the trees felt like they were blending together, branches entwining and blocking anything resembling a path.  Bushes latched onto his armor and acted more like prickling thorns than normal leaves.  He found himself tripping over rocks, plowing through deep pools of mud, even push through what looked like a wall of vines.

“Blasted-!”

He stopped, suddenly feeling a gaze on him that made his entire body feel on edge.

The grip on his lance tightened as he spun around, arm raised at the ready only to face nothing but a wall of trees and brush that looked more overgrown than when he first walked through it.  Eyes narrowing, Dimitri slowly lowered his weapon despite how tense and on guard he felt.  He took no more than a few steps before he realized he could hear it again.

The flute.

Dimitri turned left the moment he felt the tune tickle his ear, making long strides and leaps as he chased after the ever-quickening melody - fighting off creeping vines and sticky thorns.

The music rose to a pitch, digging into his mind, and ringing in his ears as he shouldered past two trees that had fallen together. In his haste, he walked into something soft as it wrapped around his face. Spider webs clouded his vision and tickled his nose. Dimitri swiped at the threads in his eyes, and when they were clear he stopped dead in his tracks.

He couldn’t see it, but he sensed something large sneaking up from behind. He gripped Areadbhar tighter and rolled onto the balls of his feet, preparing for whatever may come. It happened quickly. A large, hairy, segmented leg punctured the ground in front of him and Dimitri dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the glistening fangs of a giant spider.  Its many eyes sparkled at the sight of its prey as it lunged again.

Dimitri had dealt with much worse than this, and the spider was too slow. He strafed again, underneath the giant foreleg, spinning his lance and removing the appendage before burying the blade deep into the creature's middle. It hissed in agony, venom spraying in all directions as the beast writhed, falling to the ground with a thunderous crash and curling in on itself before becoming still.

Adrenaline coursed through his blood like a burst of magic, making his skin tingle with energy and his breathing hard with exhaustion.  His grip on Areadbhar loosened as he closed his eyes and allowed the peace to wash over him.  But no peace came; not when worrying thoughts tainted his mind and making him wonder if he’d ever get out of this place.  It didn’t help that it was so quiet too - no singing birds or rustling of brush, just an eerie feeling and a gigantic, dead spider that left him reeling.

That was when Dimitri realized the music had stopped playing.

That is probably a bad sign,  the King thought while wiping his bloody blade on the grass.

Looking around, he spotted a dim light far in the distance as it filtered through the trees.  It seemed promising (and perhaps his only option) as he walked towards it, not noticing the corpse of the spider twist and twist until it bursts into a cloud of flowers and fairy dust.

Dimitri strained to listen for the flute, but found only silence that was both eerie and comforting on his trek - his escape - from this strange place.  Leaves rustled in the wind and he glanced up, watching them bristle against the sky while the tree branches stayed strong against the agitated gust. He noted he still couldn't hear any animals, a fact that kept him on guard in case there were more of those long legged beasts around.  

Scowling, he looked around again, finding he did not like this place one bit.  

With quickened steps, the King became more determined than ever to escape this maddening forest with it's insane, terrifying creatures.  Giant spiders.  Strange pathways and plants that try to trap and bind.  This place was certainly treacherous and bizarre - a death trap for all those foolish enough to venture in.  Foolish people like him.

Dimitri pushed through the tree line with angry, clumsy swipes of his lance; not allowing the branches and leaves to block his path to freedom and sanity.  Despite wishing he could direct his anger at himself for being stupid enough to be lured in, he couldn’t help but feel relieved when he stumbled into a small clearing.  

Though the surrounding forest signaled he had yet to reach freedom, he found the little area a welcoming sight from snagging brush and creeping trees.  Just the sight of what looked like a freshwater pond made him smile, but his eyes couldn’t help but flicker at the reflection that rippled across the surface.

His breath hitched and he looked up.

Dimitri thought visions like this only happened in fairy tales.

A girl, somewhere around his own age, sat next to a small pond surrounded by flowers and reeds. A ray of light shines through the treetops, perfectly haloing a head a fluffy light green hair that wrapped around a beautiful, placid face and shining green eyes.  They widened just slightly at his appearance, her body still as she sat at the edge of the pool with fingers dipped into the water and little fish nipping at the tips.  Dimitri's attention traveled down following a curvy torso covered in a simple dress to pale legs and bare feet.

He stood stunned, unable to tear his eyes away or keep himself from stammering like he had as a schoolboy. "A-Ah. Good -"

Dimitri was so mesmerized, he didn't notice the boar charging in behind him.

The girl covered her gasp with her hand as Dimitri is plowed into the pond; the grunting, grumbling, huffing pinkish-red boar stomping in place before she waddled off.  Just as she disappeared under the brush, the blonde stranger broke the surface, his arms flailing and head spinning around as he tries to find what had hit him.

The girl relaxed back on her knees and leaned close, face plain but eyes shining with slight concern. "Are you all right?"

Dimitri spun at the sound of her voice, mouth gaping and face lit with confusion, awe, and bewilderment.

"O-Oh, uh, yes!  Yes, I'm quite fine!"  

There didn’t seem to be a bottom to this pond. Luckily he knew how to swim since Sylvain had once pushed him into a lake years ago.   He reached for the edge and began to climb up out of the bank. The girl reached out and took his arm to help, and Dimitri thought he might fall back in from the shock he felt at her touch.

He clambered out, neck red with embarrassment as he tried to stand and look like the King he was, despite being a sopping wet mess. "Er...I'm sorry for..." His hand waved vaguely at the pond, and the forest beyond. "...this. F-for disturbing you." Her hand still hadn't left his arm and he imagined he can feel its heat through his gauntlet. "Ah. I think I am lost...I don't suppose...?" His eyes never left her face

The girl tilted her head at him curiously,  "You've must've walked a long way to end up here."

Dimitri couldn't help but rock on his feet at the sound of her voice, finding that it somehow made his heart tickle, but in a good way.

"Y-Yes, I must have."  He swallowed, mouth dry.  "You see, I was with my friend, Dedue.  We were out on patrol when I seem to have wandered off.  There was a trail and some music..."

Now he was just babbling like a fool while this pretty girl beautiful woman looked up at him with apt interest.

"-And then I found this clearing and you and...uh, well, you know the rest of course.".

Her eyes crinkled up at the side, and the corners of her mouth turn up just slightly. A tiny breath huffed out of her nose as she remembered the last few minutes. Such a small change and yet it was like the sun shining through the clouds.

"Ah. I- My name is Dimitri." He gave a small bow, tendrils of his damp hair sliding in front of his eyes. He was shocked when a small hand pushed them out of the way and the woman's face appeared in front of his own, much closer than before.

"Dimitri." He swore hers is the voice of an angel's. "My name is Byleth."

The King straightened up quickly, wondering if he would ever have a chance to get his feet back under him. "Byleth. I-It's nice to meet you. Do you...do you know the way out of this forest?”

Byleth frowned and placed her hand on her face in thought, "Not particularly."

Dimitri found he could not understand what she meant by that.  Did she live here?  If so, she should surely know the way out - or at the very least - around the area.

"I'm sorry, I don’t understand..."

But Byleth was looking away from him now, hand back on his arm, making him freeze as he zeroed in on it.  He couldn’t help but marvel at how small and fragile it looked against his rough, black armor.

He suddenly wondered how it compared to his actual arm and wanted to see.

"It's growing late," Byleth said softly.  "It would be unwise for you to wander around alone in the dark."

He looked up, trying to see through the tree tops. It had gotten darker and he hadn't noticed. But Dimitri knew he needed to get out sooner, rather than later, even if he could feel the temptation to stay tugging at him. He chuckled darkly.

"Despite the last few minutes, I can take care of myself. If you'll only point the way, I think I could be out before full dark."

He felt her hand twitch. Byleth shook her head slowly. "I don't think you will. My father's house is near. Come, get dry. You can try to leave in the morning."

Dimitri wanted to argue, but the truth was he was getting cold, and he had already had enough of this forest for one day. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted more time with this girl he had just met, as well. He nodded reluctantly, and let her start to drag him away.

"The morning, then."

[blackkudos]

B.Slade

Anthony Charles Williams II (born May 16, 1975), better known by his stage name B.Slade, formerly known under the gospel moniker Tonéx ( TOH-nay), is an American singer, songwriter, actor, multi-instrumentalist, rapper, dancer, producer, and activist from San Diego, CA. He has gone by various names and aliases, but his primary stage name of choice had for years been "Tonéx". In 2010, he began using the stage name B.Slade in order to rebrand himself.

Williams has released several hundred songs on dozens of albums over the span of his career, while producing several others for both gospel and secular artists. He has won six Stellar Awards, a GMA Award, and received 2 Grammy nominations: one for Best Contemporary Soul Gospel Album for his 2004 gold album, Out the Box and another in 2009 for Best Urban/Soul Alternative Performance for his single, "Blend", from his 2009 mainstream (albeit theoretically Gospel) album, Unspoken.

Known more for his gospel recordings, his musical efforts have been known to blend a smorgasbord of styles, including pop, R&B, jazz, soul, funk, hip hop, rock, Latin, electro, punk and trance. His primary influences include Stevie Wonder, Billy Joel, Prince, Michael Jackson, Walter Hawkins, David Bowie, and Janet Jackson. His distinct sound and eclectic style of music led him to give his music its own genre per se, calling it "Nureau".

Life and music career

Early life

Born in 1975, Williams grew up in the San Diego, California area. His father, Anthony Williams, was Senior Pastor of the Truth Apostolic Community Church in suburban Spring Valley and served as a district elder in the California District Council of the Pentecostal Assemblies of the World (PAW). His mother, E. B. Williams, was a licensed minister in the PAW and served the church as Assistant Pastor. Anthony was the youngest of the Williams' six boys. Gospel music was the preferred choice at home, but other sounds made their way into Williams' environment. His father played saxophone for James Brown and Jackie Wilson, his mother sang in various girl groups, and his older brothers sneaked funk and R&B recordings into the house. By age 10, he had recorded an album of his own at home (produced by Virgil Brookins). Deciding early on a musical career, he took the name "Tonex" by the time he was 13, sometimes spelling it "Tonéx"; at the age of 16 he and his parents hired his first personal manager, Benjamin Jimerson (aka Benjamin Jimerson-Phillips) in 1991. Jimerson, who has since become a relatively successful movie producer, stated: "From the first moment I saw Tonex and he sang his first note, I realized I was dealing with a young man destined to become a major celebrity."

1996–2000: Early career

Rescue was still a small label, and Pronounced Toe-Nay was issued in a limited production run and distributed mostly from the back of Williams' car. Young gospel fans, however, quickly caught on to the innovative variety of music on Pronounced Toe-Nay. The album's producer, T. Boy, was an alter ego of Tonex himself. The album was divided by style into seven sections: hip-hop/rap, retro/funk, the future, jazz, mellow grooves, soul/gospel, and bonus tracks. In the recordings of Kirk Franklin and others, hip-hop had previously made inroads into gospel music, but this kind of wild eclectic mix was completely new. At the time, the digital reproduction of music was in its infancy, and rare copies of the album became prized possessions. Pronounced Toe-Nay garnered the attention of the producers at the 14th Annual Stellar Awards and placed him on the billing, and that performance by Tonéx made such a bold statement and had such an impact, it has been compared to the impact Michael Jackson made on the Motown 25th Anniversary Special back in 1983 when he introduced the moonwalk to the world.

2000–2004: As a rising gospel artist

By this time, national labels had come calling. Tonéx was signed to an unusual three-way deal that affiliated him with the successful and growing gospel label Verity, the pop imprint Zomba, and the durable hip-hop label Tommy Boy. Tonéx made his national debut with a re-release of his most successful independent album Pronounced Toe-Nay in 2000. His first high-profile television appearance was performing a medley of "Trinity" and "One Good Reason" on the Stellar Awards, which was a coup as Tonéx was a relative unknown at the time. He has dubbed his particular genre-spanning musical style "nureau."

Upon its release, Pronounced Toe-Nay bore 5 different record label logos: Rescue Records, the independent label that originally released the album; Mo' Soule Steppyn Records, Tonéx's then-active vanity imprint label; Tommy Boy Gospel, the label to which Tonéx was signed as an artist; Verity Records, the label to which his independent label Rescue Records sold his album's masters; and Jive Records, the mainstream umbrella over Verity Records. All of the material was produced, arranged, composed and performed by Tonéx, with guest appearances from his mother E.B. Williams, and the rapper Big J.

Some executives wanted to develop Tonéx's career in a secular direction, but he turned them down and kept to religious themes. "There are a lot of people who do similar things to what I do in R&B but I wanted to use gospel lyrics," he explained in an interview quoted on the Sphinx Management Web site.

After going through numerous revisions, his second album O2 was released in 2002. According to Tonéx, the title of his second album referred to the year of release, to the element oxygen, and to the album's status as his second major recording. O2 matched the stylistic eclecticism of Pronounced Toe-Nay, with each track diverging completely from the one before. The album spawned a major Christian radio hit in "God Has Not 4Got", a Stellar Award-winning song that displayed Tonéx's ability to create traditional choral gospel music as well as innovative pop fusions. USA TODAY gave it 3 stars (3 out of 4). The music video for the single "Bout A Thang" received heavy rotation on BET and MTV Australia, and featured energetic hip-hop dance and an urban image not usually associated with Gospel artists. O2 also featured a love song, "You", directed toward the artist's then-wife Yvette Williams (née Graham), a vocalist who at times went by the name Ms. Tonéx.

Becoming known to the wider contemporary Christian music community as a result of several music industry awards and award nominations, Tonéx went on tour with contemporary gospel artists Trin-i-Tee 5:7 and Men of Standard after the release of O2. Tonéx was moved up from opening act to headliner as audiences reacted enthusiastically to his music and his high falsetto voice. He performed once more at the Stellar Awards early in 2004 and won several awards.

Even though O2 brought him more mainstream success, Tonéx said that this album was not what he had in mind for release. He continued to release independent projects via the internet that showcased even more of his versatile creativity. Probably his most acclaimed of these works, Tonéx released Oak Park 92105 in 2003 on his now defunct Nureau Underground website in 2003, stating it was this album that he intended to release after Pronounced Toe-Nay, and not O2. Oak Park 92105 was a double album that mainly dealt with Tonéx's life growing up in the Oak Park community nestled in the eastern tip of southeast San Diego, California. It was eventually re-released on iTunes in 2005 with some new songs; however, the album did not come without controversy, as Tonéx opted to include a "parental advisory: explicit lyrics" notice on the front cover of the album, making it the first album by a Christian-based artist to carry the notice. Tonéx said the "explicit lyrics" notice is not a result of "cussing" on a record but rather content that "might be a little too deep for children."

2004–2006: Out The Box and accolade

His 2004 live double CD Out The Box earned him the most widespread acclaim so far. Divided into segments ranging from traditional gospel and praise anthems to splashes of urban dance, rock, and hip-hop, the ambitious Out The Box was a sprawling double disc set with 36 tracks, which included innovative intros, interludes, and a number of studio tracks. The supporting cast included a 10-piece band, 4 dancers, a 16-voice ensemble, and a 40-voice choir. Notable guest appearances on the album included Kirk Franklin, who plays piano in the live version of "God Has Not 4Got" and appears as an artist on "Since Jesus Came", and frequent Prince percussionist Sheila E, who appears on the Latin-flavored "Todos Juntos".

Out The Box debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard magazine Top Gospel Album Chart in September 2004, appeared on Billboard's Top 200 and Top R&B Chart, was No. 5 on the Contemporary Christian Chart, and to date has sold over 500,000 copies. He also netted a Grammy nomination for Best Contemporary Soul Gospel Album the following year, and had another bonafide Christian radio hit with the ballad "Make Me Over". In 2005, Tonéx won a total of six Stellar Awards including "Artist of the Year" for Out The Box.

2006–2010: Controversy, turbulence, and retirement from gospel

In July 2004, his father died, forcing him to take on the responsibility of becoming senior pastor of their family's church in his stead. He also divorced his wife of 5 years, Yvette. In 2006, Verity Records sued Williams for one million dollars citing breach of contract. Subsequently, Tonéx announced that he would retire from the Gospel music industry, frustrated by politics and mistreatment. Following the announcement, Kirk Franklin posted a personal blog on his own website sympathizing with the artist feeling "the weight of an industry that is only built to make money, not heal broken souls." He continued releasing music independently, using MySpace as his primary vehicle for promotion.

In March 2007, a reconciliation with Zomba Label Group was announced, which would be a joint venture for his Nureau Ink label. The deal was struck under the auspices of new Zomba president "Jazzy" Jordan (who previously had guided the careers of R. Kelly and Salt-N-Pepa). With a new record deal under his belt, he was preparing to release a double disc set titled Stereotype: Steel & Velvet, which was slated to be released on September 11, 2007, and was purportedly supposed to do for his career what Thriller did for Michael Jackson and what Purple Rain did for Prince. However, in June 2007, another split with Zomba was announced, fueled by his leaking of the vitriolic and profanity-laden song "The Naked Truth", along with several similarly themed blogs and videos. Tonéx cited label frustration as one of the reasons he leaked the song, and he soon faced much scrutiny within the Gospel arena for the explicit language and the angry tone of the song and its subsequent blogs. He later would close down his social networking sites for several months before resurfacing on the web in January 2008.

Recreating a softer gospel-friendly image, Williams changed his stage name to Ton3x (or TON3X) in 2008. He left the Verity Records family and signed under the umbrella of Battery Records, a label imprint of Sony/BMG. His only Battery Records release was the album Unspoken, released on March 17, 2009. The first single from that album, entitled "Blend", was unexpectedly nominated for a Grammy Award for Best Urban/Alternative Performance, despite very little promotional/financial support from Sony/Battery and garnered the artist his first non-gospel Grammy nomination. That year, he would also present awards at the Grammy pre-telecast, including the first two awards given to Lady Gaga, who was already backstage preparing for her show-opening performance.

In September 2009, The Word Network aired an appearance of Tonéx on The Lexi Show. Starting out as another promotional tool for his music, the interview unexpectedly changed directions, leading to Williams candidly expressing his views on sexuality and revealing his own same-sex attraction. Though his sexual orientation had already been highly speculated within the African American and gospel communities, the unapologetic tone of these revelations were condemned by conservative Christians, and bookings and appearances were universally cancelled, eventually leading to Williams being excommunicated. The artist would later say that he was "caught off guard" by the show's line of questioning but that he answered every question truthfully.

On December 29, 2009, Tonéx's website, as well as his Twitter and Facebook accounts, reported that the artist's mother, Evangelist and vocalist E.B. Williams, had died the day before. Williams would soon end his pastoral duties at his family's church.

On June 9, 2010, Tonéx announced what would be his final mixtape, the digital-only release The Parking Lot. The mixtape was also distributed in NYC that night after what would be his final performance. On June 15, 2010, the brand Tonéx/TON3X was officially and permanently retired. A "Tonéx Vault" was created on Bandcamp to share rare and previously unreleased material like the shelved Verity project, Gosp0p.

2010–2013: Rebirth as B.Slade and a return to independence

Recreating himself as an out indie R&B/glam pop artist, the artist formerly known as Tonéx underwent a re-branding, dubbing himself B.Slade and using digital media to release his new music and philosophies. The name change was inspired by the character Brian Slade from the art film Velvet Goldmine. Though he continues to receive much resistance from his past, conservative gospel fans, his new-found transparency and honest lyrics have helped him carve a niche in the LGBT music genre, which itself is slowly gaining acceptance in the mainstream field. Albums announced and partially produced under the Tonéx brand like A Brilliant Catastrophe, his Michael and Janet Jackson tribute mixtape, and the long-awaited, aforementioned Stereotype were all officially released during this time. B.Slade performed "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" as a tribute to disco singer Sylvester at the 7th Annual OUTMUSIC Awards. His full-length album Diesel, was released via his own label Suxxess Records on July 19, 2011.

After completing his stint in the musical The Who's Tommy in the summer of 2011, B.Slade began work on his next concept album, Knowing. An ambitious "pop opera" narrating a dystopian take on the future of the major record label monopoly, the album will serve as a soundtrack that the artist plans to turn into a feature film musical. Knowing was scheduled for a release on Christmas Day 2011 (another album entitled Stealth was released on this day instead), but after a few delays was released discretely in memory of Whitney Houston on February 11, 2012.

In the fall of 2012, B.Slade embarked on his "Sex, Drugs and Sushi US Tour", doing shows in Chicago, New York and taking residency at the WitZend in Venice, LA during the months of September and November. He was nominated for four awards at the 8th Annual OUTMUSIC Awards, winning one for Best R&B/Soul Song. He released another album, Stunt B%$@H, on January 25, 2013.

2014–present

2014 saw a resurgence from the artist as a viable mainstream producer and songwriter, placing songs on albums from Sheila E. (Icon) and Faith Evans (Incomparable). He also wrote and co-produced Angie Fisher's smash hit single, "I.R.S.". The song was instantly a runaway hit upon debut on Stevie Wonder's L.A.-based radio station KJLH, before going nationwide and peaking at No. 29 on Billboard's Adult R&B chart shortly thereafter. "I.R.S." was nominated for Best Traditional R&B Performance at the 57th Annual Grammy Awards, garnering Fisher her first Grammy nod and giving him his third. He is currently working with Fisher on her debut album from Hidden Beach Records.

In 2015, he co-wrote several songs on Elijah Blake's debut album, including the smash hit "I Just Wanna..." (which peaked at No. 23 on Billboard's Hot R&B Songs chart) and its title track, "Shadows & Diamonds". He also wrote and arranged the song "Unhappy" from Jordin Sparks' third album, Right Here Right Now, and produced comeback singles from Tisha Campbell-Martin and Chaka Khan. He was also a singer, writer and producer on Snoop Dogg's acclaimed 2016 Gospel compilation album, Bible of Love.

Acting and musical theatre

Along with the many changes made by Williams in 2008, a foray into acting became part of his long list of endeavors. Williams made his film debut in the 2008 Charlie Murphy comedy The Hustle, which was released to home video in 2011. In September 2008, he played the role of James "Thunder" Early in a San Diego production of the Broadway musical Dreamgirls. Later in 2008 and early 2009, Williams played the character of Rolin in Princess & The Black Eyed Pea at the Lyceum Theater in San Diego. In 2011, he played the starring role in San Diego Repertory Theatre's production of The Who's Tommy, His performance earned him the Craig Noel Award for Best Male Lead Performance in a Musical.

TV and movie soundtracks

Williams sang and produced the opening song for the hit UPN television series One on One. His production was featured on the song "Off We Go" from the J. Lo/Ben Affleck film Gigli and in BET Films original movie The Walk starring Eva Marcille. "Cry No More" from the album Pronounced Toe-Nay was featured in the HBO film Prison Song starring Q-Tip and Mary J. Blige, while the track "The Good Song 2005", a remake of the song "The Good Song", was included on the soundtrack of the action movie xXx: State of the Union starring Ice Cube. B.Slade's song "Don't Wake Me" was featured on the second episode of the 2013 BET series Second Generation Wayans. In 2013, he produced the score for the 44th Annual NAACP Image Awards telecast. In 2014, Williams produced and co-wrote the theme song to OWN (The Oprah Winfrey Network) series, Flex & Shanice, starring Flex Alexander and Shanice Wilson, and guest-starred on a number of episodes. The first season of the series garnered two singles written & produced by B.Slade, "Gotta Blame Me" and "We Can Fly". He also performed the theme song for Bounce TV's sitcom One Love.

Media appearances

In 2005, Williams co-hosted the 20th Annual Stellar Awards with Donnie McClurkin and Yolanda Adams. As "DJ Tonéx" he hosted his own syndicated contemporary gospel radio show in partnership with SupeRadio Networks and Blue Sky Productions entitled Club Virtue from 2005 to 2007. He also briefly hosted the BET J (now BET Her) show Lifted which blended positive secular and gospel music programming. In 2010, The New Yorker published a lengthy article on the artist, highlighting his journey as one of the first major gospel artists to come out.

Public image

Williams' appearance has included extremely conservative suits with close cropped hair, outlandish, flamboyant garb with feather boas, fur coats, punk-inspired multi-colored hairstyles, Sanjaya-like headpieces, Stevie Wonder-style dreadlocks and also platform shoes, that brought to mind the "glam" rock bands of the 1970s and 1980s. As Tonéx, his image raised eyebrows in the conservative gospel and contemporary Christian music communities, and he eventually took the sharper edges off his look for a short time. But he made no apologies. "It wasn't me trying to make a statement; I've always been different," he told George Varga of the San Diego Union-Tribune. "And it really worked. Out of church, people are always asking me what my tattoos mean."

[yandere-wishes]

Demon Tomura Shigaraki

When (Y/N) had first heard that she would be inheriting her great aunt's house she was overjoyed. Sure it was in a secluded woods outside of a small town, but to the young girl, it just seemed like a new adventure. (Y/N) had never personally known her great aunt outside of the occasion stories her grandmother would let slip. From what little (y/n) had heard, the old women had seemed rather... anomalous. Always running off to some abandoned church or spooky old woods in the dead of night. Mumbling what her grandmother had described as spells in an unknown tongue. And sometimes even rambling on about monsters and demons and the macabre in all its glory. (Y/N) was easily able to shrug off the women's odd habits as an adolescent phase. It was more so her death that seemed to intrigue the young women. About a two weeks ago in the early hours of dawn, her mother and she had been awoken by a call from (Y/N)'s grandmother, informing them that her sister had died under what doctor we're calling "mysterious" circumstances. She’d been discovered by the mailman, who had smelled something burning when he’d come to deliver the mail and had thought it best to investigate. Bizarrely the front door was open, yet inside showed no signs of a break in. When the young man had reached the elderly women’s room he was nauseated by the sight that awaited him. One half of her body had been burned so severely that it was unrecognizable. Parts of her nightgown had melted and dissolved into her now crispy blackened flesh. Her eye on the right side of her face was closed, the eyes lids covered in black ash. Her left side, on the other hand, was scratched so vigorously that blooded had leaked from the wounds and dripped onto the bed. her left eye was missing or at least it was until the mailmen took two steps in only to feel something squish beneath his shoes. When he’d look at the bottom of his shoe he noticed small red droplets. Upon looking at the ground he noticed a white, black and blue mush with red and blue veins lying about. More blood pooled around the compressed optic. The mailman had run out and informed the police immediately, they found him tucked in on himself crying and shaking. Four hours later (Y/N)’s grandmother had been notified and she had called her daughter and granddaughter seconds later. The police could not find any clues leading to a murderer and had thus dubbed it an open investigation. This all happened two weeks ago, and now (Y/N) found herself face to face with the alleged house of horrors. For a place that had withstood a horrific murder, it looked rather nice. It had a forest brown color, camouflaging it in with its scenery. The roof was pointed and a darker shade of brown than the rest of the house. The windows were large, yet covered by curtains preventing the new owner from getting a glimpse inside. Steedly (Y/N) made her way for the giant oak doors, slipping her silver key into the hole and turning it with a click the door unlocked and the (H/C) turned the doorknob opening the barrier between the forest and whatever lurked inside. Once inside (Y/N) looked around the house it was dusty and somewhat missed matched yet intact. In front of her, a wooden staircase leads up to the second floor, where (Y/N) guessed the rooms where located. A quick glimpse around and she found a hallway to her left that led to a spacious living room. To her right was yet another hall, this one thinner in width and shorter in length. It led to a dining area with a connected kitchen. (Y/N) made a quick mental note to empty out the fridge when she finished unpacking. Trudging her way up the old staircase suitcase in hand the young lady’s mind wandered back to what her grandmother had said about her great aunt. She desperately wanted to look around for evidence, maybe she could find out what had really happened that fateful night. Making a sharp turn the girl was greeted by four rooms huddled in a corner. She blinked then slowly opened to door closest to her, the wood creaked as she stepped inside. There was a large bed in the middle of the room, an old dresser with a mirror, a wooden closet, and a tiny nightstand. Opening the closet (Y/N) quickly deduced that this must have been her great aunt's bedroom. The clothes inside were all dark and dreary looking, noting you would expect an old woman to have. In the next room there where book selves all placed next to each other covering the three walls. “The library, Nana never said that her sister liked to read..” (Y/N) mumbled. Leaving the door open as a reminder to return later, she quickly headed for the next room. This one was large and didn’t seem to have had a previous occupant. “Perfect” she cheered. (Y/N) quickly started to unpack. Throwing her pajamas on the bed and grabbing some hangers from the closet, halve heartedly putting each clothing item on one and moving onto the next. She plugged her charger by the nightstand, deciding to give her mother a call tomorrow. Figuring it best to sleep now and commence with cleaning the house in the morning. By the time that (Y/N) had finished her chores the next day, it was already late in the afternoon. Putting off shopping for food and new modern furniture until the weekend just planning to outside at whatever fast food joint was closest. For now though (Y/N) decided to go and explore the library, maybe by some miracle it would reveal a clue or two about the old owner's death. Once inside the book filled room (Y/N) ran her fingers over the spines of each book. Shock and confusion overtaking her as she read each one. “Curses of the forest”, “The book of the dammed”, “Rites of hell” man Nana wasn’t kidding, her sister really was unhinged.” One book however made (Y/N)’s finger stop in place, she turned to the book that seemed much older than the rest. Gentilly plucking it from the shelf, she ran her hand over the cover removing the thick coat of dust that lay on it. “Decay” was the only word written on the title, the black ink almost seemed to slither about, each letter twisting and looping around the other. As the young girl flipped to the first-page eyes scanning the first word. She was suddenly pulled back, a strong hand grasping around her neck, slender fingers digging into her neck. “Hey, little girl that’s my book!” the voice was definitely masculine and seemed to have a childlike edge to it. Automatically (Y/N)’s hands flew up to the one assaulting her neck, scratching it and choking out pleas to be set free. Yet the man kept squeezing, tiny black circles danced in (Y/N)’s vision, multiplying by the minuted, one last choked out, unintelligible pleas and she went limp. When the (H/C) came to she gasped for air, greedily taking in as much as she could, inflating her lungs with more oxygen then they truly needed. Her fingers traced her neck searching for some reminder of the assault, for a moment she thought she must have hit her head and imagined the whole thing. But then her fingers reached a certain spot that was tender and hurt to be touched. Were these bruises? She quickly ran to her great aunt’s room looking into the dresser mirror, sure enough, there were four bruises on her neck where the fingers had grasped. there however seemed to be a missing one separating the second and fourth finger. Panicked the girl turned around to run out the door, only to be hit something solid the force pushed her back and she quickly elevated her gaze to stare at two blazing red eyes. Petrified the girl screamed, a loud piercing noise, that she hoped would carry out into the town. The intruder flinched and took a step back. And just like that, he disappeared. (Y/N) didn’t stop screaming until her throat was raw. What the hell had she just seen? The next few days where queer and unsettling, things in the house would mysteriously turn to dust, doors and windows would randomly open and shut, to top it all off a blood-curdling laugh seemed to ever be present. (Y/N) had tried to leave the house on multiple occasions only to end up pinned to a wall or be faced with a door that just wouldn’t open. A handful of days had passed and the limited amount of food that the girl had found in the basement was running dangerously short. Opening one of the remaining cans of beans (Y/N) made her way into the living room. Upon entry, her gaze automatically flickered to a man with light blue hair and grey horns sitting on the couch. Her grip on the can went limp and it fell to the ground with a “CLUNK” noise, spilling its contents on the floor. The man merely laughed the same blood-curdling laugh that had been circling the house. He slowly pushed himself from his resting place, trudging to where (Y/N)  was. Without hesitation (Y/N) fisted her hand and leaned in to punch the pale man. Faster then she could have thought he cough her punch with four fingers, straining his thumb out at an odd angle to avoid touching her fingers. “Who the hell are you!!” (Y/N) demanded. The pale thin man simply tilted his head. “Tomura Shigaraki” came his simple reply. “Thank you that was helpful but I was kind of hoping you’d explain why you're in my house!” (Y/N) yelled furiously. “Who said this was your house sweetheart? I’ve been haunting this place since my old plaything summed me here decades ago” Tomura explained annoyance evident in his tone. Plaything what did he mean by that and summon who would want this chapped psycho living with them. Reading the confusion on her face, Tomura began to explain “I’m a demon you idiot surprised you haven’t figured it out yet, man brains do not run in your family! The old hag summoned me some time ago when she was still young and fun to mess with. But well she grew old and I grew bored.” (Y/N)'s eyes widened “You killed her! You freak she was tortured how the hell can you be so cruel?!” Tomura’s shoulders slumped “You really are stupid aren’t you! Demon, women, I literally crawled out of hell. And hey the women’s been boarding me for years it was time I got something new to play with!” (Y/N)’s eye twitched ever so slightly “ Listen freak she wasn’t a plaything and I’m not a toy!! Also what kind of stupid demon is named Tomura?” The pale creature glared at the audacious girl. “Where you expecting something like Azazel or Malacoda!” He yelled. “Kind of” she replied. The demon began to shake in rage, within a split second he pinned (Y/N) to the ground. his knees jabbing into her thighs. His fingers wrapped around her wrists, middle finger hovering right above. “Toys aren't supposed to talk back you're supposed to do as I say!” (Y/N) struggled under the demon’s hold. Yet all he did in return was title his head and smile a nerve-wracking smile showing off his sharp fangs. “oppos don't struggle now I don’t want to denigrate my new dolly so soon”. (Y/N)’s eyes widen as tears pooled at the sides. She didn’t want to remain in this haunted house a second longer with this cruel, murderous demon. At that moment though her thoughts weren’t on how much she regretted coming here, how much she despised her great aunt or even how much time she had before he killed her. No all she was thinking about was the blazing red eyes that stared into her own eyes and how much terror they felt her with

[thorne93]

Stan Lee University (Part 19 - FINAL)

Prompt: What would the Avengers be like in college, more importantly, what would they be like if Y/N existed around them?

Word Count: 3850

Warnings: language and “adult themes”

Notes: This is based on a HC from @carryonmyswansong. They helped brainstorm and write part of this series. In this AU, no one will have powers, everyone is a normal human. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just before spring break, Wanda had approached you after work and sat you down. 

“Hey, I want to apologize for what I did. About this whole job and internship nonsense. I was a real bitch, and I shouldn’t have been.”

All you did was slowly nod as you listened.

“Look, I only did it because I really needed it and I figured you’d find another internship easy, but this was looking like my only option.” 

You didn’t say anything and she started to get desperate.

“You’re some tough competition, alright? I only did it because I’m threatened by you, doesn’t that make you happy in some way?”

You shook your head. “Wanda, I didn’t want some stupid internship to come between us. So no, I’m not happy you felt like you had to dick me over to get an internship. If you’d just come to me and said you wanted it, I would’ve backed off.”

She bobbed her head, biting her lip as she played with her fingers. “So, still mad?”

“I was never mad. I was hurt. That our friendship meant less than an internship.”

“Well, to be fair, I only said that you were busy, not that you weren’t qualified, if that helps,” she offered, a smile slowly growing on her face. 

You couldn’t resist smiling back at her. 

“I suppose that’s true, and I do work there now, so… I forgive you.”

“Oh, thank you so much. I’m so sorry,” she cried as she hugged you tight. “It’ll never happen again.” 

“As long as we’re friends again,” you said, happy to hug her back.

“Absolutely.” 

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

Following that spring semester, you and Stephen spent all of your time together. If you weren’t at his house, he was at yours, or you were out doing something together. His whole family went on a vacation to the Bahamas and took you with them, then when you all got back from that, your family went to Hawaii, and he came along. 

The sex, after your first time together in the lab, only grew better, somehow. You weren’t entirely sure how it could get hotter or better but it did. There was a deep connection every time, and there was always something new, something fresh, something exciting. He wasn’t a selfish lover by any means, and you had no problem repaying that feeling. In some ways, if you weren’t being affectionate, it was hard to keep your hands off each other. Whenever he was overtly kind to your loved ones, whenever he impressed you with science, whenever he did something completely responsible, you were rearing to go. Because like your friends had said long ago -- you have a type -- the successful type. That’s what Stephen was. Mature, well-adjusted, goal oriented, intelligent, funny, and sweet. He filled all the roles you wanted in a partner and more, and how could that not turn you on?

Since senior year was approaching, so were MCATs and med-school applications, so you two discussed your options. Stephen had his sights set on Columbia, whereas you were gunning for Johns Hopkins. Of course, you both applied to every medical college east of the Mississippi. 

At first, you agreed that you should go where your careers would take you, that you shouldn’t sacrifice for the other. It felt right to both of you that if you were going to dedicate yourself to this line of work, it needed to be at the place that fit you best, not a place to compromise on. 

But when the acceptance letters started coming in, decisions had to be made. 

Stephen brought over all of his letters to your house and you were in the dining room, trying to discuss where to go. 

“Well if I went to IU, and you went to Columbia--”

“Y/N,” he started, staring at you. You were pacing, talking to yourself, while he sat at the dining room table.

“But then I think it’d be closer if I went to--”

“Y/N,” he said again. 

“But then we need to consider.”

“Y/N, I got accepted to Johns Hopkins and I’m going,” he finally said, hoping you heard him. 

Still rambling and rattling, his words finally registered with you and you stopped, turning only your head to him. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“I got accepted to your school and I’m going to go with you.”

“What? No, no that’s not what we agreed on. We agreed we shouldn’t sacrifice our careers for each other, we’d never do that.” 

He stood from the table and put his hands on your biceps. “I’m not. We sacrificed time with each other so I could study abroad. You did that for me, so I could have opportunities like this. I’m repaying you. Johns Hopkins is where you want to go, and I want to be with you. I can’t stand the idea of us living states apart for four years, and that’s not including residency.” 

“But what about Columbia? What about neurosurgery?” 

“Is all at Johns Hopkins. I can do that anywhere. What matters to me is that you’re happy. It’s not like Hopkins is exactly a downgrade.”

You half smiled. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to wait and look down the road ten years and resent me for this.”

“I’m making this choice, not you. I’m not going to resent you. I’m still getting my degree, it’s no big deal.” 

You nodded. “Okay, only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure about us, about you, the rest is just details.” 

He kissed your forehead, then rested his against yours. 

“So we’re really doing this? Med school? Together? For four years?”

“Hopefully it’s longer than that.” 

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

Four years later….

You had just graduated medical school, about to go into your residency. The graduation ceremony had just ended and your parents and sister found you, along with Stephen’s parents and his brother.  

“Oh, get together you two for a picture!” your mom gushed, trying to not cry any more. You two held up your diplomas, smiling proudly with your caps and gowns on. 

It was a long, grueling road, but you made it. Both of you made it out with MD-PhDs, somehow, by some crazy miracle. He was guaranteed a fantastic residency, as were you. 

“Oh, we’re so proud of you,” Beverly said, coming over and hugging you two at the same time. 

“Thank you,” you gushed. 

“Oh, wait, shit,” Stephen suddenly said, checking his pockets. “I think I dropped my class ring. It was in my pockets. Hang on,” he said and you started to look around on the ground. He got down on his hands and knees and started to look around, patting the ground.

You turned around to talk to your family for a second, giving him time to look. Then suddenly, he said, “Ah, here it is.” 

“Oh, did you find it--” you started to ask, whirling back to face him, only to be stunned when he was on one knee, a ring box opened. 

You gasped, throwing your hand over your mouth, you nearly dropped your diploma. Your eyes flashed to the Strange’s who were merely grinning, they must’ve known this was coming, but your family seemed just as shocked as you. 

“Y/N, I could list all the ways I love you. From your amazing laugh, to your intelligence that at times, can put mine to shame, putting my ego back in its place. But know that it’s your kind heart, your driven mind, your stunning humor, and overwhelming love that made this decision easy for me. So, Y/N, you started out as my lab partner, how do you feel about being my life partner? What do you say? Will you marry me?” he asked with a giant grin.

“Yes!” you all but screamed, and he laughed, standing so you could hug him quickly before giving him a huge kiss. He slid the ring on your finger and you kissed him again. Then hugs and kisses from both sides of the families went all around. Congratulations were in order and everyone went out for dinner to celebrate a day of fond endings and bright beginnings. 

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

Three years later....

You and Stephen weren’t thrilled at the idea of waiting to actually get married, but you agreed you wanted to have your careers before having a marriage. You waited until you completed your residency and gained licensure and then you’d get married.

Which is where you were today.

The ceremony had already happened, with Stephen in a sharp tux, Victor as his best man, Clint as your Man of Honor. You found a stunning wedding dress that was adorned in every clear crystal on earth. 

You wore your mom’s veil, and borrowed Beverly’s bracelet. You got married under an oak tree older than even your grandparents. A garden as your backdrop, with a beautiful crystal ballroom and garden area for the reception. 

You had a smaller-ish wedding with only about 65 in attendance, but this felt better to you. Of course, most of your families were there, along with several people from med-school, as well as colleagues at the residencies. 

The vows were all said, the vendors were all paid, the dancing was all done. 

The sun was just now setting, letting the air cool slightly, but not enough to give a chill at all. Stephen and you were sitting on a little bench that swung, a nice cushion on it, your hand laced with his, your wedding bands shiny and new. 

All around you, filling out a little concrete slab under another oak tree, and the end of a small path through the back garden, were your friends. 

Tony and Pepper were sitting together, an engagement ring on Pepper’s finger. Clint and Nat together, wedding bands on their hands, and Nat’s baby bump starting to show. T’Challa and his younger sister Shuri were there. Steve and Sharon, a girl he met at his new job. Bucky, Scott, and Sam were all there. Wanda and Pietro were there. Wanda had brought a date, a guy named Paul who had blonde hair who was inside currently. And of course, Peter was there. 

Stephen and you had found a moment alone, and stole it, but then Tony found you, and soon after that, everyone else did. 

Fourteen people, all but two you’d shared most of your life with. Up until medical school, these people were your family, by every sense of the word. Sure there were bumps, bruises, fights, but after everyone had grown up, you all stayed in contact. 

Tony already amassed an empire, leading in engineering. Bruce was working independently on biomolecular research, but every once in a while, he teamed up with Tony to pioneer some project. Bucky and Peter were on his design team, with Scott heading up the mechanics and running a few independent projects. Pepper was Tony’s right hand and they did a wonderful job together. Clint and Nat opened up a training ground for agents for the government -- if they were CIA, FBI, or otherwise, they went to their camp. Steve was head of operations for a finance firm but got in some art in his free time, even selling some of his work. Wanda worked as a psychologist out of Manhattan. Pietro went on to be an Olympic athlete, winning four gold medals for four different categories of running. Sam got work with the Air Force, helping to design and implement their aircrafts. T’Challa went on to be elected as mayor for his hometown. He was the youngest in history, but his ratings were also the highest. 

And now, they were all here, to support you two. 

For the past hour, you’d been explaining how you and Stephen met, what all had gone down that year, and how everything had transpired to bring you two here.

“Wait, so that’s how you two met?” Sharon suddenly asked. 

“Yeah. Kind of dorky, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s cute,” she noted.

“Wait, Tony, you knew Y/N and Stephen were having sex in the lab?” Bruce suddenly demanded, making nearly everyone laugh. “And you just sat there with music playing?!” he questioned, clearly horrified.

Tony grinned. “Hey, what do you want me to say? I wanted to see how far these two love birds would take it with me in the room.”

You two just shrugged, smiling. 

“How often did this happen?!” he questioned. 

“Well to be fair,” Stephen suddenly said, his cheeks a little pink as you peered up at him lovingly, “that was our first time together.” You scooted a little farther into his open arm, happily remembering the first moments together.

“And you decided to desecrate my lab in doing so,” Tony scoffed.

“Oh, don’t even pretend like you never did that in your lab, Stark,” Sam shot, a shit eating grin on his face. 

“That’s besides the point. It’s my lab.”

“Actually, it was the school’s lab, and it was just once,” you assured, laughing. 

“Ugh, now I’m going to have nightmares,” Bruce said, shuddering, sitting back in his lawn chair. 

“I still can’t believe Loki did that shit to you,” Steve noted, looking down at his beer bottle. 

You shrugged. “Hey, the way I see it now, I was a challenge.” 

“Still shitty,” Scott noted. “You deserved better.”

“Hey, Debbie Downers, look around, she got ‘better’,” Nat defended and you smiled at her. She winked back at you. 

“And clearly you two did too,” you noted. Clint and Nat did get married right after senior year but this was their first baby, and all of you were so thrilled for them. 

“Yeah, little guy here is going to make things interesting, right, Daddy?” Nat asked, signing the question to him. 

Clint nodded and signed back, “Absolutely, I’m so excited.” 

“Shit, I forgot I dated that chick, Molly,” Sam suddenly said, his mind drifting back a few years. 

“Yeah? How’d that turn out?” Steve wondered.

“Clearly not well. She ain't here,” he said with a serious face. “Nah, I think she was a little too spacey. Nice girl though.”

“Aren’t they all?” Bucky asked with a teasing tone before Sam slightly shoved him. 

“What a wild ride,” Sam noted, thinking. “It seems like forever ago that we were in sociology together,” he noted.

“I know,” you agreed. 

“I can’t believe I was such a bitch to you,” Wanda commented. “I don’t what was wrong with me,” she said with a sour face. 

“Small town, lots of competition,” Bucky reminded. “Besides, clearly it worked out anyway, if Y/N got to be your boss.”

“Oh yeah, those first few months were just fantastic. Don’t let Y/N fool you, she totally threw her weight around for the grief I gave her,” Wanda informed to the group, pointing at you.

You nodded humbly. “Hey, can you blame me?”

A resounding “No,” hit your ears and everyone laughed. 

“God, you guys,” Pepper suddenly said, “where has the time gone? It’s like just yesterday we were all juniors, just 21--”

“Or 19,” you corrected with a mischievous grin.

“Or 19, and now we’re approaching our 30’s. We’ve got careers. We’re getting married…” she stated, looking around and everyone slowly nodded. 

“We graduated together almost a decade ago,” T’Challa remarked, his eyes going wide. “So much has happened. So much time has passed.” 

“Where are we going to be in another ten years?” Steve asked as his eyes settled on everyone in the circle, but obviously no one had an answer.

Finally, you spoke up, “Exactly where we want to be.” 

“Let’s hope so,” Bucky said. 

“Let’s make a pact,” Tony suddenly said, standing up, raising his champagne flute. Everyone else stood as well. “We meet in ten years. No matter where we are, what we’re doing. Life gets busy, and I’m sure we can’t always meet every year, we can agree that on Y/N and Strange’s tenth anniversary, we can get together, just like this.” He paused a second, looking around. “While some of you are brand new to the group, and others have a few more miles than the others, and some of us have been around since the beginning, I think it’s important we keep this group together. Yeah?” 

Everyone agreed and raised their glasses.

The rest of the evening, you spent reminiscing, talking about your time back in college, your time growing up in that town, and everyone’s lives since they left. It was the happiest you’d been since Stephen proposed. Your family was back together again. 

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

The old gang did get back together ten years later at your anniversary party at your mansion. 

Not much had changed for anyone. Tony and Pepper still ruled a technological empire, whom you often worked with to get top of the line medical gear and equipment. Bucky, Scott, and Peter all still working for Stark Industries. T’Challa had moved on to Governor and was talking about running for President, which you fully supported. Clint and Nat left their training program in capable hands and actually joined a private sector for work. Steve and Sharon had married and had children, in fact, so did Tony and Pepper. Peter met a girl named MJ at the company, and they were engaged now. Wanda and her boyfriend, Paul, from the party got married about four years back, and their first baby was on the way. Pietro had retired from Olympics but now he taught and trained other athletes and thoroughly enjoyed it. 

Stephen had turned into the nation’s highest paid and sought after neurosurgeon. He was on the front of every discovery, every progressive and innovative surgery, every life saving method. 

You were the nation’s highest paid and sought after psychiatrist. You were the pioneer for a deeper look into the human mind and psyche. 

Both of you were invited to speak at symposiums, lecture halls, Ted talks, and conferences. You’d both been approached at different points to write books and while Stephen declined, you accepted the offer. 

You had three kids, and they were just as bright as you and their father, maybe even more so. Curiosity burned in their veins and solutions lied on their tongues. Two boys, and one girl -- Donna.

After your careers got up and going, you offered to move your families out near you so that you could keep going with your work but not be far from family. Stephen’s parents said they’d move closer but refused financial help. Your parents accepted a small gift to help on a down payment but that was all they’d take. 

Claire and Victor actually worked in the area as well, so they lived nearby, so you had everything you’d ever wanted.

Life couldn’t get any better. Every day with Stephen was full of love, adventure, family, and work. Your careers were never a competition, and no matter where the roads took you, you supported each other without ultimatums, expectations, or conditions. Each day was a blessing and more. You’d each given the other a life you’d always dreamed of, and that’s all you could ask for in a life partner. 

Now, you stood in your living room with everyone, the kids in the parlor being entertained with the grandparents. 

“Well, we made it another ten years,” Tony remarked. “Any regrets, anyone?”

Everyone shook their head as they looked around the room. 

“So, everyone’s good? All the kids, all the gray hairs, all the stress?” he pressed. 

“Yeah, man, no complaints from me,” Sam remarked. 

“Same here,” Scott agreed.

“Wouldn’t trade it for the world,” Peter concurred.

“I’m living the life,” Wanda said happily as she put her head on her husband’s shoulder. 

“So that’s it, huh? We all made it?” Tony asked. “Impressive. I was sure that it was touch and go there for a while with Scott and his run ins with the law. And let’s not forget Nat and Clint going total CIA.”

Everyone chuckled. 

“No, I think everyone is exactly where they want to be,” you noted, holding Stephen’s hand and looking up at him lovingly. “I know I am.”

He smiled down at you before kissing you quickly. 

“Me too,” he agreed.

“Oh, get a room, lovebirds,” Tony joked.

“You mean like your lab?” Stephen shot back before Tony shook his head.

“That’s never going to leave my mind…” 

Just then, your mom said it was time to cut the anniversary cake. Everyone nodded and began to leave the living room before Stephen tugged your hand.

“Hey, hold on one second. I want to give you your gift now, in private,” he said.

“Oh?” you said, intrigued. 

He nodded and walked over to a box that you hadn’t noticed before. It wasn’t wrapped at all, it was natural, dark wood. 

“What is it?”

“Open it up and see, genius,” he quipped with an eye roll. “Honestly, two doctorates and I still have to instruct you on how to open a gift.”

“I’m about to open a can of whoopass on you so hard that not even you will be able to stitch it back up, doctor,” you shot, working on unclasping the box. 

As soon as the lid was up, you recognized the contents, well, they were familiar at least. You reached in and pulled out a bundle of letters. 

“Letters? Are these the letters from your time abroad?” you asked, leafing through them. 

“Actually… these are new. A letter for every year. One on our wedding anniversary, one the day I proposed, one on the day we graduated SLU together, one on the day I got back from abroad, and every other year was one letter on your birthday.”

“You didn’t,” you said, happy tears immediately rolling down your cheek.

“I did,” he said with a cocky grin, reaching up to thumb away the tears. “And I’ll keep doing it.” 

“I love you more than anything in the world,” you said in a hushed tone as you stared at him with admiration. 

“I love you more than myself, and that’s saying something,” he said with a chuckle. You laughed too before leaning in to wrap your arms around him. 

“Where’s my gift?” he asked. 

“Oh, it’s right here.” You went to the coffee table and pulled out a loosely wrapped bundle. “Careful, it’s not in a box.”

“I gathered that much,” he shot back. 

“Wasn’t sure you could deduce that, Sherlock,” you said, rolling your eyes.

He just smiled as he tore open the bag. “What is this?” he asked, pulling it out. 

“Well, you once asked me if I wore a cape, being a superhero. I only thought it was right, then to give you this. You save lives every day, you deserve a cape. But most importantly, all those years ago, in my dorm, you saved mine.” 

“This is cheesy,” he remarked before leaning down to kiss you. “But perfect. I love it, and I love you. Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.”

“Happy anniversary, darling,” you cooed back. 

The two of you leaned forward, your lips brushing together for a kiss to signify ages of love past, and to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[paws-and-claws-au]

Prologue: Two Sides, One Coin

Prologue, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4

Summary: In a kingdom where practicing magic is outlawed and mythical creatures are being hunted, one boy is caught in the crossfire between the two sides of the fight. Only an act of pure, selfless love will lift his curse and return his life to normal...but who could ever love a monster like him?

Warnings: Mentions of minor character death, knives, curses (the magical kind), parental neglect, body transformation, sadness/crying, Morally Grey Deceit. 

Pairings: Royality and Analogical 

Word Count: 3,061

AU Creator: @thegremlinprince 

Fic Author: @ironwoman359

Available on AO3 here

Song for this chapter: Waiting for Love - Avicii

––––––––––––

If you were to ask Desmond, he would say his actions were perfectly justified. Cruel? Perhaps. But thanks to the King’s decree that all magical creatures in the land were to be hunted down and exterminated, the Belmont couple had exacted plenty of cruelty of their own. As far as Desmond was concerned, they deserved everything they had coming to them.

Remy, of course, didn’t agree, but he and Remy had agreed on so little since they’d been forced into hiding alongside the rest of the magical community that Desmond found he didn’t really care. Not that that stopped his old friend from trying to talk him out of his plans.

“Des… I know you’re angry. But this… don’t you think it’s a bit extreme?”

Desmond clenched his hands into fists, making no move to take the hot beverage he was handed in the secluded witch’s cottage.

“Yes, Remington, it is extreme,” he huffed. “That’s rather the point of the gesture as a whole, you see. After all, isn’t hunting down every magical creature and slaughtering them regardless of whether they are an actual danger to humans a bit extreme as well?”

Remy sighed, and fiddled with the handle of his own mug.

“I mean, of course it is, but–”

“But nothing!” Desmond growled, his eyes growing dark. “Joan is dead, Remy! They died right in front of me, because those damn hunters didn’t see a person, all they could see was a dragon. Nothing but a horrible beast that needed to be destroyed.” He grit his teeth as his hands shook with anger. “I’m going to show those bastards exactly how wrong they are.”

“Des–”

Desmond stood before Remy could say any more and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.

“We’ve suffered too much at their hands, Remy. I won’t let it go unpunished anymore. I won’t let Joan’s death mean nothing to them. They’re going to pay.”

––––

Dear King James,

While we regret to inform you that our mission to slay the Dragon Witch was once again unsuccessful, we have not returned from the forest in total defeat. The witch’s familiar is dead; one less dragon plagues our skies. In this hunt we also have vanquished a manticore, taken out several members of a pack of werewolves, and successfully destroyed a fairy circle. The explosives that you provided also proved effective in disposing of the jackalope den discovered at the edge of Black Oak Ridge. We will send another report after our next hunt.

Your faithful servants,

Gareth and Cadence Belmont.

Gareth nodded to himself as he looked over the letter, then slid the parchment into an envelope. As he sealed it with a few drops of wax, his wife came up behind him and placed a bowl of stew on his desk, and he grunted appreciatively.

“Has Patton gone to bed yet?” he asked as he began to eat.

“He asked for you to come tell him a story about five times, but I told him you were busy and would do it tomorrow,” Cadence answered, and Gareth chuckled.

“Alright, I’ll make sure tomorrow’s story is extra special.”

Cadence laughed, and tucked her chin over his shoulder.

“That’s a pretty tall order, coming from you. What are you gonna tell him?”

“Hmmm…” Gareth pretended to think. “How about the daring tale of how mommy and daddy slayed a terrible dragon and saved their village?”

“I like it,” Cadence replied, before giving her husband a peck on the cheek. “I’m gonna check on him one more time, then I’m heading to bed. And you should do the same,” she added, nudging him with her elbow. “We just got home. No more late nights for now.”

“Oh, alright,” Gareth agreed with a good-natured sigh. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

He turned back to the stack of papers on his desk, mostly reports of monster sightings in the nearby areas that they were going to tackle next. He and his wife had been working for the King just shy of a year, and were quickly developing the reputation of the best monster hunters in the kingdom. He smiled to himself at the thought. If he and Cadence kept this rate of success going, their son would be able to grow up in a world completely free of the dreadful creatures that lurked in the forests.

Suddenly, a blood curdling scream came from the bedroom, and Gareth’s heart dropped into his stomach.

Cadence.

He drew his dagger from his belt, not his strongest weapon by far, but what was closest on hand, and rushed towards his wife.

Gareth burst into the bedroom to find Cadence pressed against the wall with a knife to her throat. Wielding the knife was the being who was without a doubt their worst enemy.

“Dragon Witch,” he growled, stepping forward, but the witch pressed the dagger closer to Cadence’s throat.

“I would not come closer,” the witch hissed. “Or you may find your child motherless.”

Gareth froze, but he did not let go of his dagger, gripping the handle as tightly as he could.

“You dare to come here,” he spat through gritted teeth. “You come into this home, you threaten this family–”

“You have come into our homes!” the Dragon Witch interrupted, his voice venomous. “You have threatened our families, torn down our places of safety, decimated our lives. You have allowed yourself to be deceived, have allowed fear and hatred consume your life. And you have been praised for it.” The witch’s face was twisted with grief. “You have taken everything we love and brought it to ruin, and your people hail you as heroes! I say no more.”

The witch closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and when he opened them again, they were glowing yellow with power.

“You leave destruction in your wake, Our homes you burn, our lives you take. You’ve ravaged all that we hold dear,  So now you must confront your fear.

Now upon you this curse I place,  Your greatest fear you now shall face.  For the magic seal to break,  You must truly love the thing you hate.”

The Dragon Witch shoved Cadence towards Gareth, and as he rushed to catch her a puff of yellow smoke exploded where the witch had been, and in an instant he was gone.

“Cadence!” Gareth cried as he held his wife. “Are you alright? Did he–”

“No… no, he didn’t hurt me,” she gasped. “What… what did that mean? What he said?”

“I believe it was a spell…” Gareth said, frowning. “Though I must admit, I have no idea what the meaning could be.”

“I have a feeling that we’ll find out very soon,” Cadence said with a grimace.

Gareth opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get out a word, the sound of crying came from the other room, and the two froze.

––––

When Patton was a small child, his mother and father had him pack everything he owned into a trunk and hired a carriage to the countryside. They rode in silence most of the trip, his parents occasionally sending each other glances over his head they thought he didn’t see. At the end of their journey, they pull up in front of an old fortress in the countryside that Patton remembered hearing his parents talk about before, in hushed tones. They spoke in hushed tones around him a lot, but he was sure it was just because there were a lot of grownup things they had to talk about, that they didn’t want him to worry about.  

His mother and father had carefully helped him bring his trunk up to the tallest, biggest tower of the fortress, which had a few simple furnishings set up around the room. They’d carefully explained to him that he’d be living here now so that he’d have more room for his...outbursts, and that he’d be there until they could find a “better way to help you.” They showed him the pulley system that would bring him food and explained that he mustn't eat everything at once, because more food would only arrive every two weeks. Then they’d given him a pat on the shoulder, a kiss on the head, and left, locking the tower door from the outside.

Patton had happily unpacked his toys and set about exploring the nooks and crannies of the room. He hadn’t been worried at the time. His mommy and daddy were the smartest people in the world! They’d figure something out soon and he’d be back home; in the meantime, it was like he was on some sort of adventure! It would be fun!

Patton couldn’t remember when he stopped believing that. But when one month, after years and years of no contact and constant, aching loneliness, food didn’t arrive on schedule for two whole cycles, he found that he wasn’t even that surprised.

That somehow hurt more than anything, that he wasn’t even shocked at being completely abandoned. He’d known...he’d always known, really, that that’s what they’d done. Why deal with your cursed child when you could just lock them away in a tower so they wouldn’t be in the way?

Hot, bitter tears began to fall down his cheeks, and as they did, he felt his body begin to change.

He had grown accustomed to the sensation over the years, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant. His limbs bulged and his back arched, tough leathery wings popping out and spreading across the room. His soft smooth skin grew white and blue scales, and his teeth elongated into fangs while his jaw stretched. The tears that slid from his eyes were hot and steaming, dropping the ground with a slight *hiss* as Patton, now a large, shimmering dragon, curled up in the corner of the tower to cry.

That was how the Dragon Witch found him. 

“Patton Belmont.”

At first, Patton was so startled at hearing another person’s voice that he snarled, but the man in the black cloak seemed unperturbed by the outburst. In fact, he was smiling a slightly sad, wistful smile as he took in Patton’s appearance.

“Patton Belmont…” he repeated, eyeing Patton up and down. “My, how you’ve grown.”

“Who...who are you?” Patton asked warily, pressing his back up against the wall and curling his tail around himself. 

“My name is Desmond Atwood,” the man said, lowering his hood, and Patton was startled to see scales covering one side of the man’s face. “Though there are many who call me The Dragon Witch.” Patton’s eyes widened, and Desmond nodded. “Yes,” he said before Patton could speak. “I am the one that cursed you.”

A million thoughts ran through Patton’s head, a dozen questions, a hundred demands, he almost had half a mind to attack again, but all that managed to come out was one, half-choked word.

“Why?”

Desmond sighed, and even though it’d been years since Patton had had even a short conversation with anyone besides himself, Patton could tell that the man in his tower was truly sad about something.

“It was not so much a curse on you,” he explained, “as it was a curse on your parents. You see, many years ago, a new king took power in this land, and he decreed all magic to be a horrid, evil thing. He banned the study and practice of magic, forcing witches such as myself into hiding, and he commanded that any and all magical creatures be hunted down and killed indiscriminately.”

“In-discrim-inately?” Patton asked, sounding out the word slowly.

“Yes.” Desmond grimaced. “It means that the king wanted the creatures and witches killed, whether they’d done anything to hurt anyone else or not.”

“That’s awful!” Patton gasped, his eyes growing wide.

“It certainly is,” Desmond agreed. “And your parents are– well, they were–”

“Monster hunters,” Patton recalled.

“Some of the best in the business, unfortunately,” Deceit growled. “They killed several of my friends...including my old familiar. A dragon, like you, though as a familiar they could control their transformations.”

Desmond appeared lost in thought for a moment, and Patton shifted uncomfortably. It was sad to hear about Desmond’s friends, but it still was odd hearing his parents talked about with such hatred.

“I thought to teach them a lesson,” Desmond said after a pause. “Of all the creatures they fought, dragons were those that they feared and hated the most. I laid a curse on them that they must face their worst fear, and come to truly love the thing they hated.”

Patton’s eyes widened.

“So that’s why I–”

“I thought that by turning their only child into one of us, I could show them that magical creatures are really no different than humans.” Desmond folded his arms and looked around the tower. “In all honesty, I thought the curse would break within a year. I had no idea this would be their solution.”

Patton nodded, then frowned, and tilted his head to the side.

“Wait...you said they were monster hunters...not are monster hunters.”

Desmond looked up and grimaced.

“That’s...why I came here,” he whispered. “When I heard that the Belmonts had been killed...I knew I had to find you.” 

Patton’s eyes widened in shock, but somehow, he couldn’t find it in himself to be sad about his parents’ deaths. He felt almost worse that he didn’t feel more grief...shouldn’t a child mourn the loss of their parents? 

“I assumed the curse hadn’t been lifted, since they fought against magic until their dying day,” Desmond continued. “I found out that they paid a man to bring food to this tower every fortnight, and I knew it had to be where they’d kept you.” He looked up at Patton, regret shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Patton. I had no idea until now that this is where you were all these years.”

Patton opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a whimper, and all of a sudden more tears were rolling down his cheeks and he was sobbing outright, which seemed to take Desmond by surprise.

“W-why?” Patton choked out through his sobs. “W-was it me? W-was I not good enough? Why c-couldn’t they...why did they just leave me?”

Desmond’s gaze softened, and he made a soothing sound, reaching up and gently ran his hand across Patton’s face, wiping the tears away. Patton shuddered a bit and leaned into the contact, and Desmond sighed.

“I wish I had a better answer for you,” he murmured. “But I truly don’t know. I am sorry, though, Patton. You didn’t deserve this curse, it isn’t right for you to bear their punishment.”

“S-so...can you lift the curse then?” Patton asked, a faint spark of hope shining desperately in his eyes. Desmond’s expression grew pained, and before he even replied, Patton knew what the answer would be.

“The spell was very specific,” he said quietly. “For the magic seal to break, you must truly love the thing you hate. I cannot lift the curse myself, it would take…” he trailed off, his eyes widening.

“What?” Patton asked, leaning forward eagerly.

“I...I cannot lift the curse. But perhaps…” Desmond closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, Patton shrank back in fear. They were glowing an eerie yellow, and his voice was deep and layered as he chanted:

“Love in its purest form alone Could all the parents’ sins atone.  But where they’ve fallen short and failed,  Another being may prevail.  An act of love that’s pure and whole  Will heal the cursed child’s soul.”

Desmond closed his eyes again, and opening them, they were back to their normal color.

“What...what did you just do?” Patton asked, amazed.

“I gave the curse a...well, let’s call it an update. It no longer relies on your parents for the act of love that the magical seal requires to break, it can come from anybody.”

“Really?” Patton’s eyes widened, and as the thought filled his mind, he felt himself twist and shrink until he was a human again. Desmond was now a few inches taller than him, and he stared up at the witch hopefully. “So...what happens now?” 

"If you love someone, and they love you for who you truly are, without any selfish intentions or ulterior motives, then an act of pure love from that person will lift the curse," Desmond said simply.

“Okay!” Patton cried, then he frowned again. “But...I’ve never left this tower…” he said slowly. “And there’s really nowhere else I can go to stop my dragon form from hurting anyone by accident.” Patton wrapped his arms around himself, and Desmond hesitantly placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Where there are towers and dragons and souls in need of saving, adventurers and knights often may follow. With no one left below to tend to this building, its ownership falls to you. I can ensure you are still fed and kept comfortable, and you may remain here until someone who is capable of lifting the curse comes for you.”

“Oh, thank you!” Patton exclaimed, rushing forward and flinging his arms around Desmond.

The witch stiffened, but he awkwardly placed his arms around the boy’s shoulders. When Desmond pulled back, Patton’s eyes were bright and shining, and Desmond felt another stab of guilt. The poor thing was barely a teenager, still only a child, really. He didn’t deserve to suffer like this. Anger towards the Belmonts once again stirred in Desmond’s stomach, and he almost wished the pair were still alive just so he could curse them again, this time for leaving their son to such a fate.

“Very well then…” Desmond said, holding back a sigh. “Good luck, Patton Belmont.”

“Thank you!” Patton said again with a large smile.

Desmond nodded, then he raised up his cloak, and in a puff of smoke he was gone.

Patton stared at the space where he disappeared, almost in disbelief. After a moment, another puff of smoke rose up, and a basket full of food appeared, which Patton descended on eagerly. As he ate, he felt a tiny spark of hope reignite in his chest. For so long, he’d been alone; sure that he’d be trapped like this forever. For the first time in years, there was a chance he wouldn’t be.

All he needed was somebody who could love him.

Prologue, Ch.1,  Ch.2, Ch.3

A/N: And with that, our story begins! If you are a typical reader of my writing, you know I am incredibly inconsistent with updates XD, but I’m going to TRY to be a little more consistent with this story! The next chapter will have more familiar faces in it, but in the meantime if you have questions about this au or have headcanons to share, this blog’s inbox is open! If you want to keep updated on this story, follow this blog, as there will not be a taglist. Hope you all enjoyed!  -Taylor, aka, Iron. 

AU Creator: @thegremlinprince

Other fics by @ironwoman359 

[worstfruit]

Okay so i reworked this using bastardized doric, which i intend to lessen over time but i think its still a bit much

The tower wasn’t anything like what Gwen had anticipated. It was far too kempt for starters, and though it was deep within the woods outside of town, it was still just sitting out in a clearing. A bit too obvious for her liking.

And yet, on the opposite end of the spectrum it was far too subtle. There were no twisting vines or dead trees. No heads on pikes, no ribcages or femurs strung up on display. In her experience, that meant a trap. Dazzle camouflage—hiding in plain sight with how garishly cute the garden was. She’d never met a wizard who grew chamomile. But even after waiting and watching and sneaking around every angle, Gwen hadn’t triggered any sort of trip wire nor spotted even an open archere in the stone. There was a locked cellar just around the back, next to the small plot of tilled soil. The lock looked rusted to hell, likely from disuse. The garden, though brimming with wildflowers, was a bit out of order as well, and Gwen had to wonder if anyone even lived inside the tower. Still, it did meet the description the locals gave her (an unassuming but old stone pillar erected in the forests southeast of Backwater), and was exactly where the bandits said it would be (a clearing found left of a fresh deer carcass a short distance off the path’s second fork, the side with the big boulder).

She’d been a paladin long enough to learn that if it walked like a duck, and sounded like a duck, then it was probably a duck. Besides, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and at the moment, Gwen was in quite the pickle. Not three weeks prior had she been ousted from her Temple and indefinitely suspended of knighthood by her order. Taking down a necromancer, one that had alluded authorities for over 6 months, would be just the kind of deed she needed to get back in good graces.

Gwen readied her sword and stepped towards the stone structure, still anticipating some sort of magical barrage. An explosion, maybe even just a ‘hey you!’ But as she made her way up to the dry rotted entrance door, there was nothing.

Based off reports, she was half expecting hell itself. A fortnight prior to her expulsion, the temple formally briefed a number of paladins on the mission, recounted ongoing complaints of dug up graves, missing corpses, and robberies from the town of Backwater. It was a small and poor little stop along the way to Capitol; one of the few human villages between the Mission and High Elf territory, mostly used as a last minute night’s stay or provision pick up.

Tangent reports of missing cattle, children, and even the infirm were lumped together due to how small the townships outside of Backwater were. The bandits, who had tried to ambush her during her initial trek through the woods, informed Gwen of an elderly spell caster who conjured demons and brimstone from his own hands. The Backwater locals’ descriptions varied from vampiric in nature, down to common thugs, but all stories had a few principle things in common: he was old, he was in the woods, he worked with fire, he lived in a tower, and was evil. Taking in the scenery before her, Gwen sized it up. She certainly was at a tower in the woods.

For a moment, her manners almost got the better of her and she raised a gloved hand to knock. Thinking better, she gently pushed against the arched door to find it unlocked. It was ill fitted for the doorway, shrunken with age and it glided without touching the threshold.

Generally, necromancers were known to have a penchant for decay, dilapidation, just a general unkemptness that this tower absolutely did not have. The interior was lackluster to say the least; a bit old but otherwise rather mild in all regards. The floors were rugged with some dust in the corners, the stairs narrow but clearly well used, and there was even a small boiler with a little shitty kettle atop. Keeping her hands on the hilt of her blade, Gwen continued onwards, taking gentle steps so that her sabatons did not clack too loudly against the cobbled floors. She used to rugs to muffle her steps, stretching her short gait to match their haphazard patterns. She noticed a number of odds and ends befitting of her grandmother more so than a necromancer; things like doilies and little dried out gourds with sad little faces painted on them, a cracked tea cup here and there, some with tea leaves wet at the bottom. Still—Gwen had been spurned too many times to assume, perhaps the wizard was an elderly woman, or perhaps it was all a ruse. Cute or not, she had a job to do and a reputation to save.

 Doing her best to ignore all the warning signs (or, lack thereof), Gwen pressed onwards, towards the spiraling stairwell. There were a few tomes laying about. She stooped to flip through one, noting that while the contents weren’t strictly of a necromantic nature, they were still damning nonetheless. Poison herbs and writing on anatomy, charts of stars and moon phases, a grimoire here and there and even one on exotic animals.

The stairs were lined with melted wax, an odd wick here and there sticking out like stray hairs on a bald man’s head. The tower, save the open door and natural sunlight pouring in from the top, was poorly lit and only so large; though there was no apparent latch door-- there may have been a basement along with the cellar; there was really nowhere else to go quietly but up. Even the archeres were boarded up with odd bits of rays poking through and spilling onto the bumpy walls and cracked wood; it made her ascent a bit difficult but Gwen was nothing in not cautious. She waited long enough for her eyes to adjust to the shadows before pressing onwards.

The next level was even more cramped than the first, and more of a resting area than an actual floor. Gwen froze just as her line of sight passed over a step and into the room—just around the curved corner of the tower’s central support pillar (a massive, cylindrical oak beam), there was a chair. Tartan fabric, frayed, with feather filling coming out about the seams and around the corners, but atop the chair sat…something. It was small, maybe the size of a medium hound, greenish skin and a shock of red hair and cloth curled around itself. She couldn’t quite understand the anatomy if it from the glimpse she got before concealing herself behind the beam, just that it was alive and likely asleep.

Gwen peaked back around just to confirm her suspicions. The beast was tiny and most definitely asleep. Oddly enough, it was also clothed in what appeared to be a little cloak, fit for a child. She could identify its head, its long and pointed nose, two bat like ears and two giant, but closed eyes. It breathed in a gentle rhythm, clawed paws and feet tucked by its side much the way the temple’s pet cat curled up on Gwen’s bed some nights. It resembled a sand imp, ghastly little creatures all wrinkles and teeth. She didn’t want to wake it up to find out if it had the very same fangs.

Next to the chair was a small rickety stool with a book atop, and on top of the book was a half-eaten apple, already yellowing. She looked as far as she could upwards. There was enough of a ceiling for her to guess the third floor was a bit more substantial. As quietly as she could, Gwen moved her foot upwards. She hesitated placing it down unto the next step; if the creature was anything like a sand imp, she did not wish to wake it. Even before she finished her step, she saw its ears twitch. Perhaps this was the warlock’s familiar, and perhaps she was lucky to have caught it sleeping on guard duty.

Rather than continuing upwards, Gwen considered her options. The thing was small. It would be a but a stain on her long sword. But, if it really was some sort of fucked up, green sand imp (perhaps it was rabid or jaundiced), then it was probably fast. Their claws were nasty and they were just intelligent enough to know exactly were to slide them between the seams of plate armor. It’s almost as if they were completely willing to die, just so long as they could make you bleed, even just a little. They had zero regard for their own safety, no sense of reasoning, and no hesitation. It would be like a setting off an alarm bell for sure; loud creatures they were. She hated them more than feral, rabid rats, and while she would surely be able to take one (yet alone a puny, runty, sleeping one), she would rather not.

Which brought her to the next option. The creature all but confirmed the identity of the tower’s primary inhabitant. What sort of old woman would live with a pet sand imp? And, by law, familiars and death magick were strictly prohibited and punishable by, well, death. Love or hate the elves, they had a moral code she could agree with.

Gwen didn’t like to play executioner often, but for her own sake, she was strongly considering the alternative to continuing forward to confront the villain-- which was to go back to town, rile up the locals, gather a shit ton of wood and hay and oil and slow burning lards, and light the sucker up.

 Nodding resolutely to herself, Gwen slowly, ever so carefully turned to head back down the stairs. She was feeling pretty pleased with her decision making, a bit clever too (she had found the tower after all, and could report the deed back to her temple even if she wasn’t the one to personally kill the necromancer. The townspeople would think her a hero and she would be allowed back into the Order, surely), until the very same little, shitty kettle she had spotted earlier flew right past her head. Gwen didn’t even have a chance to duck. It clattered against the stone wall loudly, spewing scalding hot water and steam all about. Thankfully, her armor caught the brunt of it, though a few flecks nipped at the nape of her exposed neck and she felt a painful flush of wet air blossom against her cheek and eye. Without hesitating she lunged forward and tackled the offender. She didn’t have of a chance to get much of a glimpse besides a hunched cloak and some white hair.

 Her shoulder made contact and the two hit the floor, Gwen’s plate and mail pealing against the stone like a muffled bell. She flipped herself over to throw him to the side so she could land face up. Whoever had attacked her fell by her side with a dull thud. She used the pause to grab at her sword and roll over so that it was against them in a warning. Gwen miscalculated this move, however, and instead of holding the sword to their throat, her adrenaline and weight forced her forward much more quickly than she had intended. The blade plunged into the figure’s middle like a paring knife into a mushy peach. She heard a weak ‘oof’, before she felt the give of steel against flesh. It took a moment for it to register that both of them had stopped moving.

She clambered away and regained her footing using the boiler to stand fully. The ‘necromancer’ was on the floor, staring at the ceiling with glassy, bloodshot eyes. It was an impossibly old man, clean shaven and white like porridge. He wore a fuzzy purple cloak and a blue, linen nightgown beneath. His middle was a burgeoning blossom of bright red, two sinewy legs poking out from beneath his sheer gown and thick robe, twitching in a way that reminded Gwen, once again, of the little black cat that slept at the foot of her bed back at the temple.

 Remembering the sand imp, Gwen gasped and turned towards the stairs waiting for another attack. Instead, she saw the green thing poking its head around the corner, clutching the empty tea kettle to its chest and staring at Gwen with big, yellow eyes. Just like the temple cat, Pitch.

Neither she nor the creature moved. Instead it moved it’s eyes from Gwen to the dead old man and back a few times, before finally opening its mouth (to which Gwen could see that it indeed had sand imp teeth) and saying “Is ye the witch?”

The last thing Gwen expected to hear was a voice. Words, intelligible common! It even cocked its head, clearly surprised, clearly afraid, clearly upset but otherwise completely unmoving.

She didn’t answer. She was stooped, breathing heavy, and unsure how to even answer the question. So instead she stood up straight and opened her mouth, then closed it, then looked to the freshly dead man on the floor for an answer. Receiving none, she looked back to the imp and cocked her own head back it. “What?” was all she could muster, though the incredulity in her voice certainly carried other questions. The imp, a he based off the voice, which was scratchy and a bit high (yet so clearly NOT a child, she would have to hear it again to confirm how oddly inhuman yet…human it sounded) adjusted its stance in a way that suggested he was reminding himself of where he was.

 “Ah. Er, Ah mean ye. He.” The imp pointed to the man with a shaky claw and let out a short, desperate kind of laugh, and then spoke so quickly that Gwen almost didn’t catch it, “Vern aye says the witch he mairriet fair go cum ben back fur his heid een day, sae, is ye her? The witch?” He retracted his hand and used it to clutch the kettle even tighter to his chest. “Ye're gonnae kill me neist? Gonnae get me head too!?”

 Gwen didn’t get the chance to answer or even ask for clarification; the imp seemed to realize his own words and swallowed them faster than he had said them, and without any warning, he chucked the kettle, as hard as his little twiggy arms could, directly at Gwen.

This time she didn’t have the chance to duck.

Gwen saw stars. The kettle was cast iron, and the imp was stronger than she gave it credit for. It connected with her forehead and sent her sprawling back against the tower’s wall with another clang. Gwen threw her hands to her face, cursing loudly and sliding senselessly against the wall and floor as she tried and failed to gain purchase. The wet rugs bunched at her sabatons and the tea kettle kept getting caught underfoot and rolling her backwards. She heard, rather than saw, all four of his clawed feet scuttling up the stairs like a frightened dog beneath the sounds of her own struggle. With a scream, Gwen kicked the rugs free of her feet and the kettle clean across the room, shoving herself upright. The paladin screwed her eyes shut and threw her sword down.

“Come back down here!” she screamed, stepping over ‘Vern’s’ body so she could reach the stairs. She wasn’t expecting an answer. “I won’t hurt you!” Gwen added in a much quieter voice. That was partially true, she wanted to ask the thing questions, and generally liked to refrain from violence if it could be helped. Unfortunately for Gwendoline, it could rarely be helped, and her entire face was smarting. She waited a beat for a response and then began trudging up the stairs, ignoring the dull throb emanating from the impact zone throughout her entire head.

The chair she had seen earlier was empty, and she continued upwards to the third level, all the while speaking in as calm but loud a voice she could manage through grit teeth; “I need to know more about Vern, he may have been a very bad man! Let me ask you some questions, please, and I won’t take anyone’s head!”

The third floor was a bit less boring than the first two. The walls were covered by a bookcase, the wooden panels following the curve of the stone walls behind them. Each shelf was full of knick knacks and dust. Jagged chunks of crystal and spindly plant stems with fuzzy leaves, bird and fish and rat bones, metal instruments and trinkets and tubes set up in between all of the books. The shelves broke in the center of the room, an arched little cove cut into them where an oil lamp hung unlit. Beneath was a small table with various, incriminating things on it, like mortars and pestles and scales, all kinds of little glass vials and broken bottles, quills in dried inkwells. Enough to convince any layman of Vern’s profession, surely.

There was a latch door on the ceiling, but the rope ladder attached to it hadn’t been completely unfurled; instead it hung limply so that the rope was in a loose coil, stuck against the nail lock. The thing was still in the room.

Next to the stair entrance on Gwen’s right was a sad little bedroll, not even a cot, with bits of hay sticking out bellow the fur blanket on top of it. The blanket had a lump beneath it, and the lump seemed to have a long, pointed nose attached.

Even assuming it was out of tea kettles, Gwen didn’t want to alarm it. Instead of addressing the lump, she simply spoke with a steady, but softer voice, to the room at large.

“I am sorry if he was your friend, imp. I. I did not intend to…end his life. Honestly. He caught me by surprise. I am a paladin from the Order of Fragan’s Templar, to the north of Backwater. I was tasked to…investigate reports of a necromancer terrorizing the woods surrounding Backwater and the road to Capitol. I truly mean you no harm, so long as you intend none in return.”

The lump stirred, poking a claw out so that the fur could be pulled back to reveal a narrowed, yellow eye. This time, his voice was more level, accusatory even, than afraid.

“Seems like a gayand quick in-inspectigation.”

“Investigation. I was attacked.” Gwen bit back.

“Ah didnae hear ye cum ben in. Didnae hear anyain let ye in.”

“You were asleep. The door was open; I didn’t hear anyone behind me!” Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose, “I entered just to talk, but since it was dark I was on alert. I was told this man was very dangerous. I saw you and. Well, I became frightened!” She paced forward and stood before the bedroll, using a foot to kick the fur clean away from the imp. He remained bent over, looking up at her. “So, you are Vern’s…familiar? He was a practitioner of some sort, I see.” Gwen gestured to the room around her.

The imp sat up onto its knees, still staring up all small and pathetic.

“A wis his slae.” He said, simply. He seemed to chew the rest of her words over but remained silent otherwise.

“Slae-slave? Was he practicing the dark path?” She asked after a moment. The imp shot her a questioning look. “Necromancy! A wicked pact with some malignant force?” Gwen pressed.

“Uh, he. Ye mean, the witch? Fit path? The wids?”

“Did he raise the dead? Was your master some sort of evil wizard, or otherwise unlawful caster? Did he rob graves, steal towns children and sacrifice animals, consort with the spirits and the like? And please, annunciate this time.”

The imp seemed to understand this and nodded slowly, placing a claw to his lower lip.

“Nay, Ah dinnae think sae.” He adjusted himself to stand and crossed his arms over his chest as if he were self-conscious in regards to what he was about to say, “He mostly wrote mince doon in, uh, in books fur fowk fa  couldnae reid. They’d pey him tae scrieve a lot, or make tae make queer balms an sic, stuff thon smellit odd or brunt bricht in jars, an sometimes he e’en conjured portals!” He relaxed a bit as he explained, seemingly distracted with his own tale, moving his hands about, “Or skin a coney--”

“A coney?” She had to pause this time around, though she initially noticed he talked a bit oddly, she hadn’t heard him say enough to catch the accent. Even still, it wasn’t familiar. Mostly understandable, when he talked slow. Perhaps similar to the Northerly elves at most, but very off.

“Jumpy fur craiter, wit the lang lugs an sic.” Fizzle mimicked whatever a coney was by grabbing at his large ears and making an unidentifiable face.

Gwen just shrugged, signaling the imp to continue.

“Deer too, but then he fair hae me skin it an take aw the coin an fur an then!? Guess on whit he dae. He’d gae an send it off tae the witch! He aye talkit aboot her! The witch! The witch I thoucht ye wis. But yer’re no? Yer’re no gyan…tae kill me, richt?” He finished, seeming to remember he wasn’t alone and looked up at Gwen like he’d just spilt milk.

Gwen found herself leaning in, even squinting as she tried to decipher just what the little creature was saying. She caught the gist of it all, up until this point, but he spoke so fast, and all of his words had a way of melting into each other, stumbling and lilting at the oddest moments. She almost wasn’t sure if it was common tongue.

She put her hand to her mouth and rubbed her upper lip. So. The man hadn’t been a necromancer. She eyed the imp a bit as it spoke. It could be lying, or perhaps not know the difference between a portal mage and a necromancer. She let his question linger in the air for a moment before regarding the creature with a sigh. Gwen at least understood that he did not want to die.

“No imp. I will spare your life.” She said, with a bit more monotony than she had intended. Had she not been so distracted with the current predicament, she might’ve found the way he perked up endearing, in a pitiful way. Like a pig spared the slaughter. But, instead, Gwen sunk to floor next to the imp (even when seated, it barely met her eye line) and pressed both hands over her mouth once more, staring straight ahead. “Vern. Vern was his name, you said?” The imp nodded. “Vern…did he have family? Friends, the like?” she asked from beneath her gauntlets.

“No…I dunno aboot the witch, bit, aside frae me an a puckle fowk, nae a body comes bi affen.”

“Fowk? Do you mean folk? The people. Like, towns people, from Backwater? Do they come often asking for things like portals and potions?”

The imp thought for a moment, his red irises rolling up to the side to regard a stray cobweb floating down in a beam of sunlight.

“Na, no anymore. Ah actually cannae remember fin we haed ane. Mebbe aroon lest hairst.”

“Huh?”

“Hairst! Neeps n pumpkins, ye ken?”

“Pumpkins.” She was losing patience. Luckily, Gwen dealt with her fair share of Northerners while posted at the wall, though the conversations were often limited to work related issues. “H-harvest? You mean the autumn, when the leaves fall?” Fizzle nodded excitedly. And in turn, Gwen nodded solemnly, then stood to pace in front of the imp. His head trailed after her movements. “Okay. Yes. We are getting somewhere, despite the clear barrier of tongues. And you, what is your name?”

“Fizzle.”

“Fizzle. Good. Yes. Were you, fond? Of Vern?”

Fizzle simply shook his head, a definite ‘NO’.

“He enslaved you, you said? Made you do things against your will and skin rabbits for no pay?”

“He foond me innae tree stump ane day an pit me innae sack! Ah was hidin an he still foond me. Ah dunno how! Ilky time Ah triit tae scowp awa faet, he wad aye track me doon an 'en dunk me intae the river till Ah cooldn’t stain it na mair!” Fizzle crossed his arms and huffed, looking away for a moment to consider his words before looking back up to the woman. “Aye, he did bad magick. But nae daith magicks.”

Gwen leaned forward excitedly, latching onto one of Fizzle’s words. “Okay, okay, so…would you perhaps say that he was a bad man? A mean man?” she asked, eyeing one of the many decorative squashes peppering the tower. It stared back at her.

“He wis mean an he lovit tae zap fin ah let kettle fussle afore fly cup. Een time he gart me boo like a bench, ower on ma hands an knees an he dane putten his feet on ma back, aw kis ah accidentally brunt his favourite stool!”

Gwen nodded eagerly as she walked around the room, and continued shaking her head to herself well after Fizzle had finished speaking. There was ample evidence supporting Vern’s ‘treachery’. From his choice in literature to the indentured servitude of a sick sand imp! Gwen was smiling to herself as she considered this: he probably enchanted the poor beast to make it sentient (and green)! She was sure the Order would not be pleased about that in the least. Truly a vile, vile man!

“Okay! Great.” She clapped her gloved hands together with a metallic smack, startling Fizzle; “Well, there we have it, my little friend! I came to investigate Vern. I followed the tips of the towns people, and two unscrupulous bandits who tried to accost me on the road here! They told me of his ways, how he had devils shooting fire from their hands. I entered his tower in search of him, just to talk! To confront him, and yet the coward attacked me without warning.” She paused her theatrics to turn and look at Fizzle, eliciting a nod from him which made her assume he was following along and compliant. “So I defended myself! And rightfully so, as I come to find, he’s put some sort of evil enchantment on you, to make you walk upright and wear clothes and speak as if you’re a regular halfling! What other forest critters he must have tortured!” Fizzle raised a brow ridge at this, but Gwen continued on, “The townsfolk will be happy to be rid of that man, of this I am certain.”

“Fit div ye mean, enhancement? On me?” he looked himself over, but saw nothing awry.

Gwen bit her lip. Was it cruel to tell a donkey it’s true nature? Certainly not if it, as donkeys ordinarily cannot understand you. But a talking donkey? Who ever heard of such a thing. Informing poor Fizzle as to what he was seemed akin to kicking a puppy begging for scraps. Needless cruelty (and Gwen had her fill of that for the day). But the imp just looked up to her, and despite her best efforts, she found herself relenting. She figured he deserved to know, and besides, she liked animals quite a lot.

“Well, you are but an imp, are you not? Never in my days have I encountered a walking, talking imp. Let alone a green one! And so far north.”

Fizzle was shaking his head before Gwen was even finished, “Am fae wye wye up north, past the waa.” Fizzle considered this for a second as he noted Gwen’s confusion, “The big, lang rock. Miekle rocks n sic! Man made.”

“The wall?”

“Aye! The waa. Vern wis buying dwarven wares n fit not, fin he fand me up near the mountains. Aire’s a lot o’ ma kin up aire. The caves an moors are ours. Belong tae us.”

“The north? The Great North, with dwarves?! I’ve never heard of sand imps living anywhere but south! In the salt flats and around the shores with those wild folk.” Now Gwen was shaking her head. “That would explain the accent, however.”

“Nae wi Dwarves, no, jis near tham. We hate dwarves an they hate us, an ah div nae ken fit the fuck an imp is, bit am a goblin, lady. A’ve nivver been faarer sooth nor here.”

“Repeat that last bit, where you just cursed at me.” Gwen asked, impassively. She was staring past the little thing, gears turning in her head trying to work out what he was saying.

“Err, Dwarves, richt? Sae, they hate me, an I hate ‘em. Dunno if they name us ‘imp’, bit Aim tellin ye, Aim a goblin.”

Gwen shook her head dismissively—semantics didn’t matter, and she was certain that whatever a ‘goblin’ called itself didn’t change the fact that it was an imp. She knew there were multiple tribes of elves who looked different enough from one another, and humans and halflings and dwarves had the tendency to range from an alabaster white to deep, rich browns and near blacks depending where they lived. Maybe sand imps weren’t just confined to the sands! Maybe they could be green?

“No matter, Fizzle, let’s just keep this between you and I. Those I answer too are not particularly fond of Northerners, and will have a much easier time understanding sand imps.” She filed away his strange account for later consideration; more important was the matter of staging the scene. Fizzle shrugged and continued to look up to her expectantly. It dawned on her that she wasn’t quite sure what to do with him. If the town’s excuse for law enforcement came to access the scene, they would surely want to get rid of the little guy. Gwen sort of pitied him. He had been helpful despite the kettle incident, and she didn’t exactly want to send him from his recent slavery straight to death. “But we will worry about that when the time comes. For now, I need your help.”

 Gwen was not proud of this talent, no, but she recognized it as a valuable one nonetheless.

Over years of training under Thalodin Lldewig, she had learned many ways to…suggest things. Through dress, body language, gesture, facial expression, choosing words, and perhaps most importantly, through setting up bodies of evidence (as well as literal, dead bodies) to insinuate. Certain things. Many things. In fact, according to Thalodin, you could say just about anything, without actually ever saying a word. Things that may benefit him, and keep any officials outside (or sometimes, even inside) the Order from asking too many unnecessary questions.

Gwen didn’t like to think of this as lying. She detested lying. Every time she muttered even a white lie, she could feel the eyes of her patron saint burning a hole through her, even from a young age before she ever committed herself to the Order. But again, her mentor had the unfortunate habit of stretching the truth to such a degree that he was ‘forced’ to stage the occasional ‘crime scene’ in a way that may have ‘flattered’ him more than it should have.

It was something that took Gwen quite a while to come to terms with, but eventually, it rubbed off on her. She didn’t like to steal, to cheat or lie or kill, yet situations like Vern’s had been requiring her to do just that as of late.

She thought about her recent expulsion. The shame made her stomach sink and cheeks burn bright. But then the anger set in. Gwendoline was far from perfect and she was so keenly aware of this. It didn’t bother her, if anything it was a reminder and motivation to continue striving for grace; to earn redemption and pass it along to others who needed it more. There was nothing she hated more than injustice and while she knew it was not her place to enact revenge, seeing such wild imbalances in power such as the Elven nobility or even among her own temple’s magistrate made her blood boil.

So she killed an elderly man? It was an accident, and it was done. If she was smart, it could benefit her, and even Fizzle (though admittedly, she was far less concerned about that if she were being honest.) It would quell the minds of the townspeople and perhaps scare off whatever else was lurking in the wood.

She considered these things as she dragged Vern out of the tower. Fizzle helped Gwen to locate a wax dipped tarp Vern kept in the cellar. Together, they slid the tarp beneath his body and Gwen had opted to do the heavy lifting while Fizzle focused on cleaning. Once the blood was sufficiently cleaned and the floors decent, he was to collect all of the tea cups and gourds and doilies in the tower and put them in a sack. By then, Gwen would have staged Vern’s body; dressing him up in more practical battle attire and scoring the earth around their supposed fight stage.

[triforceangel13]

The Promise Ch. 3 (A SidLink Story)

Chapter 3: Unsure Feelings

The sounds of protesting Zoras were still heard as Link followed Sidon down the large hallway. Mipha had volunteered to speak on Sidon's behalf while they had a word together but Link felt terrible for leaving her behind.

Even if he was sure she was used to this sort of thing by now he hated that he had left her alone at the mercy of those men. They had sounded very upset and no doubt would ignore everything that Mipha tried to say. She wasn't Queen, still just the princess of the Domain. Perhaps Sidon had took the role as king to save his sister.

It was clear that the council members did not like the idea of Sidon marrying Link. Whether it was because he was another male or it was because he was a Hylian, they just couldn't seem get behind the idea of them joining in matrimony. Though he was pretty sure it had to be a combination of both factors.

“Right in here Link. This is my office,” Sidon said, pushing open the door to a cozy looking room. A large desk sat in the center of the room, a chair on either side of it. Books and scrolls of papers sat around the room except for the small area where a fire place sat. A large arm chair sat in front of the fire, a small stack of books sitting next to it. Perhaps Sidon took the time to sit in front of the fire to read? He wouldn't imagine it to be too comfortable for him due to having to keep his scales wet or at least damp.

A fire crackled in its spot sending off warmth throughout the room and making it seem all the more cozy.

Link stepped inside, relaxing his shoulders a bit as Sidon closed the door behind him, the only noise he could hear being the fire nearby and the sound of his own breathing. He was grateful that the sounds of the council were silenced by close the large oak door.

“Thank you,” Link mumbled, turning towards the taller male, having to take a few steps back so that he could see him better without craning his neck. He really had grown into that head fin of his. The last time he had seen him the poor boy had tripped over it. Now he was so tall he had to have ducked his head to get through the door frame to his study.

Sidon smiled warmly down at him, an emotion shining in his gold eyes that had Link unsure how to feel. No one had ever looked at him like this before.

Love.

He had never seen someone show so much love to him with just one look. Should he be honored? Happy? He wasn't even sure if he was still alright with this whole situation. His intention had been to come there and tell Sidon no himself. Seeing all of this and the way Sidon was around him he couldn't help but start to reconsider.

“You do not know how happy that it makes me that you are here and have accepted my proposal,” Sidon sighed with such content, his hand coming to rest on his chin, tilting his head up a little to look at him.

Link's breath hitched, eyes widening as Sidon knelt down and leaned in closer. Link's heart started to race, panic running through his body.

His first kiss. But if he let him do it he could be sending the wrong message. If he let him kiss him he would be saying that he really had accepted his prorposal and that they would be there to discuss their plans.

Just before their lips met Link turned his head at the last minute. The feel of Sidon's cool lips pressed to his warm skin. His body felt as if it wanted to melt into his embrace but he kept himself still, still truly unsure.

Feeling Link turn his head Sidon pulled back with a little bit of panic, dropping his hand as his cheeks burned a soft blue.

“Forgive me Link,” Sidon said immediately, rising to his feet and more or less rushing to the desk chair to put more distance between the two of them. “I had thought that you would have...because we...Forgive me for being so forward.”

Link inhaled slowly, wanting to relax himself. Why had he panicked and turned his head at the last minute? Sidon was handsome, strong. It wouldn't have hurt to just share at least one little kiss with him would it?

But it would have been wrong. Kissing under false pretenses. Sidon believed him to be his husband to be. He needed to settle this before it went much farther. He didn't want to hurt the man that sat in front of him.

“It's alright. Nothing to fret about,” Link replied, slowly sinking into the other large chair on the other side of the desk. He felt so small not only from the chair but also the confused thoughts running through his head. And in front of a king no less, he was sure he was raised better than that. “You...had said you wanted to talk with me?”

“Yes um..,” Sidon said, trying his best to regain his composure from their awkward little kiss that almost happened. “I had been wanting to talk to you about our wedding. Perhaps we could take this time to set up some arrangements?”

Link rest his hands on the table. “Well...there is something else that we need to discuss before we talk about that. Something very important.”

Sidon grew concerned, the shine of the boy he had known in the past shining through. That look had the guilt he felt brew in him bubbling hotter.

“Whatever it is I want to fix it. I want nothing more than to make your time with me as comfortable as possible,” Sidon said to him, his hands resting on the desk as well, yellow claws digging into the wood  out of nervousness.

“In all honesty Sidon...your proposal kind of came out of nowhere,” Link started. Sidon was silent a moment but then smiled.

“Now there I disagree, I had made that promise to wed you. When I make a promise I intend on keeping every single one that I make.”

“Your majesty, that- “Please Link, call me Sidon. You are the one that I had proposed to after all. I would hope we could be a little more comfortable than that.”

Link smiled a little but sighed. “Okay, Sidon, that promise was made when were both young. How can you put this much faith in something from so long ago? How am I to accept this when it had been first promised so long ago?”

“Well...I see your point, but in all honesty Link it was the one thing that kept me going all these years and not fall into despair despite everything happening around me,” Sidon explained, rising from his seat and going to the fire. He placed another log on it, stepping back quickly before it dried out his scales too much from the heat for him. “The hardships that my people have faced over time as well as the crimes they have committed against your people was too much to bare. I believe it was one of the things that took my father from my sister and I. The stress was too much for such an old king. It's something I wouldn't wish on anyone, no matter what race they were. All I had ever wanted was nothing but peace. ”

“I am sorry about your father, I agree that we should live in a time of peace,” Link replied. “But I really don't see how marrying me is going to solve any of this. We haven't seen each other in so long, we are both very different. How can you just proclaim to marry me when you know nothing about me? I want to marry for love, not convenience.”

The tall Zora was quiet a moment, taking in Link's words. In a way he was right. It only seemed like he was doing this for his childish promise as well as for the sake of the people. If a Zora married a Hylian, especially a Zora of high stature, it could end this feud between the two races. But it was at the cost of his and Link's happiness.

“I adore you Link,” Sidon said causing the blonde to turn away. “I know you think that is silly but I truly do. I can see however where you are coming from. I too wanted to marry you for love. I suppose even after all these years I can't see the other consequences of it.”

Link was silent a moment. He still didn't understand how he could so easily love him he was not about to fight with him.

“What about the council? From the sound of it they didn't seem too happy that you declared that you were to marry me,” Link added. Did it sound like he was coming up with excuses? He prayed it wasn't, it was seriously one of several questions that were on his mind at the moment. They would all be answered in due time, he would just need to be patient.

“Do no worry about them,” Sidon reassured. “Ever since I took the throne they've been fighting me on every decision I have made. This is honestly something that I am constantly used to. They will come around eventually. My final word on the matter is what counts, not theirs. Honestly they are more or less there to guide me.”

That did make him feel a little better but he knew there had to be more reasons as to why they protested so hard.

Carefully Sidon knelt down in front of Link once more, offering his palm for Link to press his hand in should he wish to. To the Zora's surprise Link rest a hand in his, looking up into his gaze. The blue orbs showed he was a little scared and confused, something that Sidon wanted to fix. He wanted Link to be happy there.

There had to be a reason why Link had not been with anyone at this age. If he was in a committed relationship he wouldn't have come here. He would have simply sent a message back with Bazz and left it at that. If that was the case as well Sidon would have backed off immediately and not pushed the matter further.

It would have been crushing but he would have been willing to do it.

But Link had traveled the long way to the Domain. There had to be an underlying reason Link had come all the way out there himself.

“May I ask something of you?” Sidon asked softly, his thumb running over the smooth skin of the Hylian.

Link gave a small nod. It was amazing how on the way there he had every intention telling him no. Now here he was ready to say yes. Sidon was very sweet and being around him brought back many happy memories from the past. But was that really enough of a reason for him to just to say yes to the proposal?

“Give me a month,” Sidon offered to him. “A month to show you that my intentions on marrying you are not because of the feud or because of the promise I had made. Let me get to know you fully and perhaps have you fall in love with me. Then at the end of the month you can make your decision, even if it is a no I will not protest your final decision.”

Link held his breath. It was a way to solve this problem. He could figure out what was going on with his feelings and if he so chose he could go back home at the end of the month time limit. The orphanage could survive without him for a little longer.

“Agreed,” Link said to him, squeezing the large hand that his rest in.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to marry the king of the Zoras. He wasn't harsh, rude. He was sweet and kind, much like he had been in the past.

A large grin spread across Sidon's face and before Link knew it Sidon was scooping him up from under the arms and pulling him up into a large hug.

Those soft lips returned to his cheek briefly, a heavy flush forming on Link's cheeks. He was grateful that Sidon didn't go for something more intimate but he knew this sort of affection was something he would surely need to get used to.

But it wasn't so bad. In fact he actually liked it. No one had ever been like this with him before in his life. It was nice.

“The princess of Hyrule will be coming to us within a few days. We are  to talk about the treaty between the two races but, with your permission Link, I would like to mention the possibility of you and I,” Sidon offered to Link as he set him back down on his feet.

The princess. The most powerful woman in the world and Link would be right there having to discuss what he was to do with the king of the Zoras.

“It's fine. I just want to make sure that she knows that it is not entirely final yet,” Link added. Sidon ruffled his hair in response.

“Of course. I would not do anything behind your back that you are not comfortable with,” Sidon reassured him.

Link relaxed his shoulders. Perhaps this all would be a good idea. For once maybe he should start thinking about what he wanted out of life.

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