#no gloves and open shirt are very not safe for workshop

[memetrash-coyote]

Saw a neat corset, thought "This has Minalkar vibes... oughta draw her with it" , so here we are. Honestly, it's kind of a fun contrast with her more masc outward presentation.

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: My Time at Sandrock

Rating: M

Pairing: Fang x F!builder

AO3

Chapter 1: a visit

Summer, 104

Sage

—

Sage stepped off the bus from Portia as a cloud of dust floated up into the air and she reeled back breathing it in, eyes watering and nose tickling. She sneezed into her sleeve and reopened her burning eyes to be greeted by Logan. Taller than her by at least half a foot, and eyes as blue as the oasis, Sage understood why her twin sister was immediately magnetized to the man the day she saw him. On a wanted poster no less. It still made Sage chuckle to this day.

Logan stole her suitcase right out of her hand and beamed at her.

“Where’s Violet?” She asked.

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“You need to make her take days off.”

“You think I can make her do anything? She’s as stubborn as a boxing jack. Worse actually.”

Sage sighed. “Yes. She is.”

“She says you ain’t much different.”

“Perhaps. But have you considered there is a reason she gets that first place trophy every year?”

“She told me once, that you let her win.”

“I’m here to tell you she’s lying.”

Logan chuckled at that while curling his hand around his belt buckle. “Well, come on, maybe once she sees you, she’ll realize her commissions can wait.”

“I do admire your optimism,” Sage said as she trailed after Logan.

It was just a short stretch to walk from the bus stop to Violet’s workshop. But it was enough for Sage to realize she’s over dressed, roasting under her long sleeved shirt with a matching belted harness and cape. Her trousers were loose at least, and laced boots knee high to keep all the sand out. But every piece of her outfit was too much black for a desert sun. She mumbled an almost inaudible incantation to keep herself cool while lagging behind Logan’s long-legged stride, hoping he hadn’t noticed. Though, the man probably knew their family secret. Still, better to be safe.

“Does my sister have to run to keep up with you?” Sage commented when they arrived at the gate.

She steadied herself on the fence to catch her breath and wished she would’ve kept up her training with Arlo the past year.

Logan laughed. “I have to run to keep up with her!”

He held the gate open and Sage peeled herself off the fence to follow him into the yard. Somehow she believed that what Logan said was true. Violet was always flitting about like a bee, buzzing along to her next task. Veering to the right, past the stables, Sage spotted her sister slouched over, painting steady strokes of blue onto some flower boxes. Her white shirt sleeves were rolled up to her muscled shoulders, sweat shining in rivulets that trailed down her tanned triceps. Sage was similar in build, though she’d been kissed more delicately by Portia’s summer sun, her freckles less prominent.

“Hey Darlin’, look who’s here,” Logan said.

Violet glanced up from her work, her dark blue locks pulled back into a thick braid while a few strands framed her face, her grin spreading wide as the bright sunlight glinted off her nose ring. The brightness almost obscured the freckles that dusted her nose and apples of her cheeks. She set the box aside, wiping her hands on her red and white striped work apron and threw her arms around Sage. She wrapped her sister up in a long, overdue hug and squeezed. When they finally parted, a string of half dried paint clung to her shirt and Violet swept it away with a chuckle.

“You want to take a tour of the town?” Violet asked. I need the paint to dry on those boxes so might as well give you the lay of the land.” She plucked her leather work gloves off and pocketed them in the front of her apron.

“You act like I’ve never been here before.”

“A weekend at the Blue Moon Saloon and the church, mostly cluttering up your schedule with wedding duties is hardly what I’d call getting a feel for Sandrock. Besides, Mi-an, Wei and I have spruced up so much more since you were here last month.”

“Very well, show me your pride and joy,” Sage said with a smile and Violet clapped enthusiastically.

Violet practically vibrated with joy. “You’re gonna love our little town, Sage. Can’t wait to show you around. Maybe I can even convince you to move here, yet.”

—

The valley stretched as far as her eyes could see but Sage’s drifted up to the sky. Inside the tram cart, she imagined herself flying and free. The way the fluffy clouds swirled on the horizon, soaking up the sun's rays and glowing in orange, with ruffles of purple, made her wish she had wings. She was ready to float on air after a day of endless introductions and small talk.

“It’s gorgeous up here.” She dangled her arms over the side of the cart and watched a bird flit across the sky and disappear behind a distant peak.

“It is,” Violet replied from beside her with a little sigh.

“Can’t believe you built this.”

“Me neither. I didn’t do it alone though,” she continued. “The Sandrockers are just always working together to pull through for me. They’re good people. Real good.”

“They are. The way you talk about this place, plus the views and the warmth of the people—makes me want to leave my old life behind and live here.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Because—well, Vi.” There was only one reason really but she didn’t know how to say it. “I just can’t.”

“You can. You’ve told me time and time again how you’ve never wanted to be a builder. So, why don’t you stop holdin’ yourself back and start working toward your future? Logan and I would be more than willing to get you settled in here.”

“You would?” Sage cocked her head sideways at her sister.

“Of course.” She grinned while throwing her arm around Sage’s shoulder. “Plus you know me, I always want you around. It would be so nice to have you here in Sandrock. You could come with me to Saturday night story time with Owen and Sunday fireside meetin’s that always end up with a little party back at my place and—”

Violet launched into a speech of activities to participate in together as Sage turned back to the view. The sun sunk halfway below the horizon, brushing the sky with hues of pink and orange that had her believing her sister's words. She could move to Sandrock. Minus all those activities she was planning.

There was nothing holding her back. Well, nothing except her misplaced hope that he might return.

—

Sage pulled fresh rolls from the oven and slid the tray on top of the stove. The savory scent of caramelized onion and garlic she added to the dough before it baked filled her nose and her stomach rumbled.

“That smells heavenly,” Violet told her in a sing-song voice and then the doorbell rang.

“Did you invite someone over for dinner?” Sage asked.

“I sure did. But it’s a surprise so you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“This better not be a blind date. You know I’m not ready. I didn’t come here for that.”

Violet booped her nose and chuckled. “Not a date. I promise. He’s a friend and I just think you’d get along. He’s quiet. More than you, even. But he’s real kind.” She hurried towards the door but stopped in the frame and glanced back over her shoulder. “But it wouldn’t hurt to put the feelers out.”

Sage inhaled deeply to keep from shouting at her sister and turned back to the rolls. Violet disappeared and Sage reminded herself that her sister’s intentions came from a good place. Sweet even. Another deep breath and she noted that the tops were perfectly browned and ready to serve and smiled to herself with pride. She dug around in the cupboards for a basket to put them in and spotted one high up on the refrigerator and climbed the counter, stretching herself across the small gap. The tops of her fingers curled around the basket. She teetered but regained her balance, snatching the basket and clenching it against her chest, she crouched down and then jumped to the floor.

She busied herself with setting the table and then stirred the stewed mushrooms on the stovetop. Adding just a hint of extra cilantro, she left them to simmer a tad more while tossing the alfalfa salad with a few extra fresh veggies and a light vinaigrette. She set the salad bowl on the table with tongs and returned to the stovetop just as her sister ushered in the most beautiful man with blue eyes and long silken black hair she’s ever laid eyes on. He was nearly as tall as Logan but much more slight, dressed in a simple white button up and slightly tattered trousers, she gathered before averting her gaze. It’s rude to stare, she reminded herself.

“Sage, I want you to meet Doctor Fang,” Violet said.

The name sounded so familiar but she couldn’t quite place where she’d heard it before. She raised her hand in a small greeting. An awkward wave. “Hi,” she said.

Doctor Fang’s expression was unreadable as his eyes fell on her. A raven suddenly swooped in from behind him and landed on his shoulder. It whistled then said, “Pretty bird! Who’s this?”

“It’s—the builder’s sister,” Doctor Fang said in the softest, most comforting voice Sage had ever heard. She wanted to wrap herself up in it like a cozy blanket and fall asleep under the stars.

Picking her jaw up off the floor, Sage blinked. “That’s right. I’m Vi’s sister, Sage” she said to the bird.

“This is—X,” said Doctor Fang.

“Well it is a pleasure to meet you, X.” She offered a small smile. “And you, Doctor Fang.”

“Now that we’ve got all the introductions out of the way,” Violet clapped excitedly, “let’s have a seat, dig in and eat!”

Sage slid into the chair next to her sister and filled her plate with salad and then buttered her roll liberally, delighting in the way the softness just melted in her mouth as she took a bite. Meanwhile Violet told a story about her most recent adventure. Something about trying to collect cactus flowers for Doctor Fang when a boxing jack (which Sage had heard about plenty of times but fortunately had never come across) knocked her on her ass. Thankfully Logan had been at his outpost and spotted her in time to assist. Violet and Logan took turns telling the story of his heroic save and Sage listened while filling her stomach with the delicious foods on the table. By the end of their storytelling, Sage was done eating and collected her dirty dish from the table. She didn’t learn a thing about Doctor Fang because he barely said a word. Not like he could really get a word in edgewise anyway.

Eventually Logan and Violet dropped their plates in the sink and she was surprised when the Doctor joined her, drying the dishes she'd set in the drying rack.

“The rolls—did you make them?” He asked as he pulled open the cupboard, stacking the plates he'd dried.

“Yes,” she replied.

“They were very—good.”

“Thank you,” she said as she worked at cleaning the pot next.

She bit down on her lip while she scrubbed, channeling all her focus into cleaning. She almost forgot that Doctor Fang was with her and that she’d left him in silence for a decent length of time. But she only had one dish left.

Sage wiped the last dish clean and handed it to Doctor Fang. The walls shook and there was a low groan that

filtered through the floorboards as she briefly grazed his long fingers in the dish exchange. Flushing red, she muttered an apology. But Fang acted like it was nothing.

“I must—return home,” he said as another moan, much louder and longer than before, washed over them.

Sage refused to be left in the house with her sister and Logan, so at the risk of sounding desperate she asked, “can I please walk you home?” She cringed.

“Yes,” he stated simply, unaffected by the sounds going on around them. Or at least appearing not to be anyway.

Sage wished she had half his decorum.

“Thank you,” she breathed, following after him as he made his way toward the door.

The cool air washed over her as she sighed with relief, easily keeping pace with the Doctor as he led the way to his home in the night.

—

“You live in the clinic?” She asked once he stopped just outside the door, one hand pushing on it, letting the light spill out, grazing the top curve of her black boots.

“Yes,” he said simply. One foot was in the doorway, the other with her.

She wasn’t sure if he was waiting for her to go or for her to come in. Each minute passed made her second guessing worse.

“Come in!” Squawked X. “Don’t be shy! Shy!”

“X! Be quiet,” Doctor Fang said softly.

Sage took that as a sign.

“Wanna go back?” X squawked again.

Sage stared at the two of them a bit baffled. “Not particularly. I need to find something else to do while—” she hesitated. There was no need for an explanation. He was a stranger. They owed nothing to each other. “I hope you two have a good night,” she said instead and turned around.

“Thank you.” Fang’s words were a whisper of a hand on her shoulder but as she glanced back, the door clicked shut as the clinic bathed her in its warm red lighting.

Sage knew she couldn’t go back to her sisters just yet and she didn’t want to go to the Saloon. There was just too much noise and brightness there and she was far too exhausted from the day. She wandered over to the bench, situated between the clinic and the Golden Goose, and took a page out of her good friend Mint’s book. Curling up with one arm under her head as a pillow, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

But it wasn’t long before she dreamt of the Rogue Knight again. He had pinned her to the ground, his sword at her chest and his laughter echoed as his mask melted away. The kind brown eyes of a betrothed betrayer mocked her. She thrashed and glanced away, not wanting to see the face behind the mask. Pain rippled through her nerves as the edge of his blade tore through her clothes and nicked her skin. Then he plunged it deep. A sharp intake of breath and she threw her eyes open, jolting upright. Five years gone and she hated the hold he had on her even after all this time.

X was pecking at her shirt and she didn’t mean to swat at him. “Wanna go back!” He was shouting over and over as she came to, blinking. It was still night.

She sat up and X landed on the shoulder of Doctor Fang. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. I just—I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

Doctor Fang stared at her, tilting his head quizzically then turned away. He gestured for her to follow. “Come with me.”

[yespolkadotkitty]

PLEASE pluck Ricky from obscurity like you did Zach!!!

Right so you are all fairly keen on this guy because I also got these:

Pick You Up

Ricky Hauk x reader

Word count: 1700 ~ Warnings: None really. Light angst. Kissing.

Lovely gif by @ithinkwehitametaphor

i

You’ve not lived in this town long. The first time you use the gas station, the tall, skinny guy behind the counter glances at you from under his ball cap, the red brim only serving to bring out the slices of amber in his soulful brown eyes. There’s a crease in his cupid’s bow, the thumb print of a God proud of his work. He rings up your service, gives you a collection time.

When you park up back at home, you see it. A note under your unused windscreen wiper.

Autumn in her eyes

Her hair ropes of burnished gold,

Kissed by corners of the

Falling leaves. Will seasons pass

Before I look upon her

Once more?

ii 

The poem was from him. You know it. You know it because the next time you bring your car back, when winter’s starting to bite chunks out of the temperature, you see him write something on your receipt in the same loopy scrawl. He sees you looking. Ricky is embroidered on his navy blue overalls. A flush creeps up his cheeks, and you wonder how old he is. Twenty? You could cry over his perfect cheekbones. 

“It should be more than that?” you ask when he rings you up.

The corner of his mouth curves up. “Returning customer discount. No one will miss a few quarts of gas.”

There’s a worn, tattered book propping up a wonky corner of the cash register. A Poem for Every Day of the Year.

And when you arrive home, there’s another scrap of paper under your windscreen wiper.

Winter’s grasp is far-reaching

Fingers dug in tight

But footprints thaw frozen ground,

A smile melts frostbite

Inch by Inch

You fold the paper carefully, tuck it under a magnet on your fridge, next to the one you already have. Wonder what it means. If he writes poetry for all his customers.

iii 

Before Winter ends, your exhaust pipe crashes off the end of your car and you narrowly miss swerving off the road in shock at the huge bang it makes. You drive right to the service station, and like a dream, there he is, the huge roller door of the workshop open, and he’s bent over another car, his ball cap on backwards, overalls half-unzipped. Heat is pumping out of the workshop interior and you park your car. As you shut the door, Ricky looks up, and his face goes slack for a second, before he plasters a polite query on the handsome canvas. “Uh, hey. Can I help you?”

“Exhaust pipe fell off on the highway,” you sigh. “I know she’s a hunk of junk, but I just can’t afford to replace her, not yet.”

“I’ll give it my best shot.” Ricky holds out his hand for the keys, a smear of grease on his thumb, and you stare at his palm for a moment, wondering what his hands would feel like on your skin. If he’d leave a fingerprint of grease behind.

You wouldn’t mind much, if he did.

iv

You have to leave the car overnight, eventually. Ricky comes into the tiny office with the noisy watercooler and tiny wall-mounted TV that only shows one God-awful news channel. His hands are shoved into his overall pockets and there’s a streak of engine grease on his cheek.

“Uh, I’m sorry, but she’s gonna have to stay in until tomorrow. My boss has gotta check the weld, and he’s stuck in the snowstorm one state over.”

“Okay.” You’re not cross with him. What would be the point?

Ricky looks from the clock to you. He probably has a hot date you’re keeping him from, you think with a little sadness. “Um, I’ve gotta lock up now. I can drive you home. If you want.” He jerks his thumb at the window to his right. A beaten up red truck sits outside.

“Thank you. That’d be great.”

The snow has started to fall in earnest. Ricky locks up the gas station and pockets the keys as the shutter finally closes up tight. He opens the passenger door for you, waits until you’re safely strapped in before he gets in on his side and starts the engine. “You’ll have to direct me.” He tugs off the ball cap and stuffs it in the glove box.

“Wait,” you say, as his hand hovers over the stick.

He glances at you with an eyebrow raised, that poet’s mouth set solemnly, his tiger iron eyes so large in his face, larger somehow with his thick hair sticking up at all angles, and he looks so young but like he has an old soul. Like he’s seen so much; too much, and he is so tired.

“Why did you write me those poems?”

Ricky looks away, chewing his bottom lip.

“You did, didn’t you?”

“So what?” he throws back, still not looking at you. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you wanna hear?”

Your heart cracks down the middle. “No, it isn’t. They were beautiful. I kept them.”

His gaze shoots to yours. “You are beautiful,” he says, very soberly. 

And you lift your hand to his cheek and then he’s kissing you, earnestly, his lips soft and sweet and unpracticed. Not that you’re experienced, but you estimate yourself as perhaps half a decade older than him. He groans into your mouth and desire skitters through you. You part your lips for him and he finally touches you, just a hand on your thigh, his palm warm through your worn, old jeans.

The drive to your house is full of thick, syrupy tension. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the way Ricky subtly adjusts himself during the ten minute trip.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to help him out with that.

He parks outside your building, and you kiss him again before you leave, nipping at his tempting lower lip, making him curse, low and sweet in that sinful, husky voice, still a little thready with youth.

“I’ll work on your car first thing tomorrow?” he half asks, half informs you, as you open the passenger door. The cold wind arcs in, biting at your skin. “I could pick you up. Early. If you want.”

You nod. “Okay. Thanks.”

Ricky catches your hand, tangles your fingers. “Guys like me write poetry about girls like you because it’s the only way we’ll be with you,” he mutters, and there’s something so sad and resigned in the depths of his butterscotch gaze.

You don’t know what to say, and if you kiss him again you run the serious risk of being arrested for indecent behaviour in his truck.

v

He’s early the next morning. You’re not ready. 

“Come up,” you say through the buzzer, and in a matter of moments you’re opening your apartment door to him. He holds the service station ball cap in his hands, wringing it nervously, and his overalls are half-unzipped to reveal a plain white t-shirt. He smells of cheap cologne and minty toothpaste, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Want a coffee?” you ask. “I’ll be five minutes.”

“No, thanks. Uh, I’m fine.” He stands by the door, like he needs permission to sit down. 

You rush around, calling your boss to remind him about your car situation. He’s stuck at home anyway due to a snowdrift, so he doesn’t chew you out.

Pulling on your winter boots - hopefully they’ll see you through to March - you step out of the bedroom. Ricky’s leaning over your kitchen counter, scrawling something on a post-it note. He jerks up, guilt sketched on his angular face.

“Sorry.”

“Not at all.”

He folds the paper over. “Don’t read it.. Til later.”

He turns to face you, hesitates, wariness and want and need laid bare in those gorgeous hazelnut eyes.

“Could I… kiss you? Maybe?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, and Ricky cups your face in his broad, callused hands, and lowers his mouth to yours, and the kiss starts soft and sweet, explorative, and then you slide your hands up his shoulders and tangle your fingers in his thick, tattered-silk hair, and he backs you into the wall, his lips urgent on yours, licking into your mouth, and you drink him in like you’re starved for the taste of him. He groans against your lips, one hand slipping down your back to palm your ass, and-

And your phone rings shrilly from your bag. Your work mobile.

You and Ricky spring apart. 

“I’d better get that.”

It turns out to be a shitty sales call, but the moment’s been broken. You mostly manage to ignore the distended shape of Ricky’s jeans, but his face is red the whole drive to the garage.

When you arrive, a man who you guess to be Ricky’s boss is already there, opening the shutter. Ricky turns to you, his hand hesitant on your thigh. “Maybe…. Maybe you’d wanna see me again? 

You cover his hand with yours, link your fingers. “I’d love to see you again, Ricky.”

His smile lights up the dreary winter day.

*****

Special thanks to @dornish-queen without whose watchlist, this fic would never have happened.

Tagging the Pedro pals! @gamingaquarius @a-seeker-of-imagination @songsformonkeys @alldatalost @dornish-queen @lackofhonor @alienprincesspoop @beccaplaying @cryptkeepersoul @keeper0fthestars @winters-buck @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @jaime1110 @nelba @heatherbel @thewayofthemandalorian @agirllovespasta @seawhisperer @holographic-carmen @mrschiltoncat @mourningbirds1 @emmy-dandiliom918 @trippedmetaldetector @starlight-starwrites @oloreaa @thegreenkid @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @buckstaposition @pedropascallion @pajamasecrets @knittingqueen13 @skdubbs @opheliaelysia

[martyrtomb]

pick  up  your  sword,  girl.  raise  your  blade,  child.  cut  down  your  enemies,  girl.

you  are  a  queen  before  you  are  a  wife.  you  are  a  knight  before  you  are  a  daughter.  you  are  a  dragon  before  you  are  a  woman.

you  carry  the  world  upon  your  shoulders  but  you  do  not  relent.  you  lift  the  spirits  of  the  fallen  but  you  do  not  crumble.  you  raise  the  morale  of  the  soldiers  but  you  do  not  fail.

you  are  a  goddess.  you  are  a  queen.  you  are  atlas.

and  atlas  does  not  kneel.           a.e.w.

ϟ.  →  zoë  kravitz  :  cis  female  :  she  /  her  :  wandmaker’s  apprentice  :  kiss  with  a  fist  by  florence  +  the  machine  ϟ  did  you  see  DORCAS  MEADOWES  ?  you  know  ,  the  33  year  old  MUGGLE-BORN  who  was  formerly  in  slytherin  .  some  say  dorcas  can  be  quite  dependable  but  are  known  to  be  cynical  .  they  are  aligned  with the order .  maybe  that’s  why  they  remind  me  of  daggers  sheathed  in  holsters  ,  bandages  twined  around  bloody  and  bruised  knuckles  ,  a  feral  animal  with  teeth  bared  in  a  fight  to  the  death  .

EXPANDED AESTHETIC.     she  is  leather  jackets  draped  over  the  backs  of  chairs,  smiles  shared  over  bitter  wine,  bandages  twined  and  twined  and  twined  around  hands  and  feet  as  she  takes  off  her  shoes.  she  is  empty  cups  stacked  up  in  the  sink,  books  left  open  among  the  rubble  of  a  crumbling  childhood  home  and  dying  memories,  hands  soaked  in  blood  and  daggers  in  a  holster.  she  is  bloody  rags,  the  stone  that  causes  the  ripples  in  a  great  lake,  the  feral  animal  with  teeth  bared  in  a  fight  to  the  death  and  fingerless  gloves.  she  is  sleepless  nights,  the  emptiness  of  an  abandoned  museum,  the  vacancies  in  hotel  rooms  that  will  never  be  filled.  she  wears  her  smile  like  armour,  her  wand  up  her  sleeve,  a  phoenix  dead  and  reborn  and  alive,  again.  she  is  strong  morals  hidden  behind  a  facade  of  apathy,  blasé  at  the  worst  of  times  and  lethal  at  the  best.  she  strands  herself  on  an  island  between  worlds,  the  girl  surrounding  herself  with  tombs  and  folded  pictures.  she  is  exhausted,  but  exhaustion  will  not  destroy  her.

WAND.  Cherry. Dragon Heartstring. 12 ½" in length. Hard flexibility.

CHERRY.  This very rare wand wood creates a wand of strange power, most highly prized by the wizarding students of the school of Mahoutokoro in Japan, where those who own cherry wands have special prestige. The Western wand-purchaser should dispel from their minds any notion that the pink blossom of the living tree makes for a frivolous or merely ornamental wand, for cherry wood often makes a wand that possesses truly lethal power, whatever the core, but if teamed with dragon heartstring, the wand ought never to be teamed with a wizard without exceptional self-control and strength of mind.

DRAGON HEARTSTRING.  As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.

PATRONUS.  Mastiff.

Although Dorcas tends to be more brash and unforgiving, her Patronus is one that is gentle, patient, nurturing, and protective. Mastiff’s were once bred for combat, to both guard troops and fight alongside them. It seems almost ironic, then, that her Patronus is as such. Dorcas is someone who is very combative in nature; she’s fought her whole life for her right to survive, as a Black Jewish woman, and as a Muggleborn Witch. Her Patronus is an almost comically perfect match, a true match for her, in many ways.

AMORTENTIA.  Freshly baked Challat, black coffee, her mothers’ perfume, her sister’s conditioner, her step father’s cologne, her brother’s shampoo, petrichor and wand polish. 

FRESHLY BAKED CHALLAT.  The family recipe was handed down to the Meadowes grandchildren after the car accident in 1968. She used to make it as a child, with her grandmother Zola, and her grandfather Tzvi, and it brings back memories of childhood. Three or four hours at a time spent cooped up in the kitchen, baking and laughing and sharing stories. She now occasionally makes it for the other members of the Order - it’s significant for her. These people have become family.

BLACK COFFEE.  It’s one of the few things she’s inherited from her father, his terrible love of coffee and almost inability to function without it. She drinks it every morning, and has three to four cups a day. She’s tried to cut down, but that’s left her with larger mugs and more coffee consumed at once. She doesn’t really know when she started drinking it; it’s been one of the constants, as the rest of the world turns upside down. It reminds her of early mornings, spent curled up next to her window sill, watching the sun rise and the muggle world turn.

HER MOTHERS’ PERFUME.  It brings her back to the last time she ever hugged her mother. Dorcas’d moved the entire family to a new house, a new community where nobody knew she even existed, in an effort to keep them safe. She’d buried her face into her mothers neck, quietly telling her she didn’t know when she’d see her next. It’s a bittersweet memory, tinged by the fear that they wouldn’t be safe, with that underlying sense of relief that they were out of the brunt of the fighting. She misses her mother more than she’ll admit.

HER SISTER’S CONDITIONER.  Her sister, Petra, doesn’t really understand why she’s not around. When she first came home with their brother, Isaac, she only heard stories about Dorcas. There was never any time to explain the war to them. The day that she found out her mother was dead was the worst day of Dorcas’ life. She spent hours on the floor, cradling her brother and sister as close to her as she could. She remembers inhaling, her sister’s conditioner filling her senses and transporting her to better times.

HER STEP FATHER’S COLOGNE.  Dorcas first met Gerald the day that the entire concept of magic being real was explained to him. It was July 21st, just after she’d jumped off the train at Platform 9 and 3 quarters. After that and his decision to stay rather than leave, Dorcas and Gerald became close. He became as close to her as her father should have been. It was him that would often tell her to slow down, although he would remain at her side when she refused - trusting her to make her own decisions.

HER BROTHER’S SHAMPOO.  Isaac didn’t understand why they had to move. He’d only been a baby when they’d adopted him and his biological sister, Petra, and so had clung to Dorcas the day that they were told that they were moving away from London. She remembers the way he’d clung to her shirt, five years old and overjoyed at seeing his older sister. She remembers pressing a kiss to the crown of his head before letting him down, the smell of his shampoo filling her nose, and allowing her a brief moment of disjointed happiness.

PETRICHOR.  Dorcas’ favourite holiday was one she and her mother had taken to the southern coast of Spain when she was eight. There had been a dry spell of around a month and their last day had been the day that the clouds had opened and the rain had come pouring out. She still remembers that blissful feeling of leaning her head out of the hotel room window when the rain had finished, that bone-dry heat now absorbed by the rain that had fallen only minutes before. The smell reminds her of that innocence.

WAND POLISH.  Dorcas works day and night with wands. She’s spent days in Ollivander’s workshop, refusing to sleep until she absolutely had to - powering through each urge to go to sleep. The smell of wand polish seems to be stuck to her hands. It’s a part of her life which is only secondary to her membership of the Order. She’s never been someone to back down from a challenge and taking on Ollivander’s mantle is something that she knows is inevitable, and is certainly something she knows would be nigh impossible to do.

BOGGART.  Her family and friends, with no recollection of who she is.

SEXUALITY.  Bisexual biromantic / panromantic pansexual, with a preference for women but also tends to make bad, bad sexual decisions. Hate sex, anyone? 

HOBBIES.  Writing (she has a leather bound notebook she keeps on her at all times), duelling, listening to music, designing wands, ice skating, reading, and hiking. Drinking. Lots and lots of drinking.

OWLs RESULTS.  Arithmancy (O), Astronomy (O), Care of Magical Creatures (O), Charms (O), Defence Against the Dark Arts (O), Herbology (O), History of Magic (E), Potions (O), Transfiguration (O) and Study of Ancient Runes (O).

NEWTs RESULTS.  Arithmancy (O), Astronomy (O), Care of Magical Creatures (O), Charms (O), Defence Against the Dark Arts (O), Herbology (O), History of Magic (O), Potions (O), Transfiguration (O) and Study of Ancient Runes (O).

SCHOOL ACTIVITIES.  Slug Club, Duelling Club (Member and President), Slytherin Seeker, Prefect (she never did learn how to keep her damn mouth shut, though).

SCARS.  A white, three inch scar along the outside of her left arm. Several scars in varying depth on her stomach and chest. Birthmark on her right shoulder.

SKILL SETS.  Duelling. Future wand maker. Skilled at deciphering ancient runes. Can ice skate, even though she doesn’t, not anymore.

PETS.  A three year old Barn Owl named Fester and a ten year old black Kneazle-cat named Wednesday.

MBTI.  ISTJ.

ALIGNMENT.  Chaotic Good.

TIMELINE OF MAJOR LIFE EVENTS. 

Sep. 30th, 1912: birth of Simcha “Simon” Uriel Meadowes.

Mar. 4th, 1919: birth of Rivka Annalese Lehrer.

Jan. 17th, 1939: first meeting of Rivka Lehrer and Simcha “Simon” Meadowes.

Feb. 15th, 1940: name change of Simcha Meadowes to Simon Meadowes.

Aug. 1st, 1945: marriage of Rivka and Simon Meadowes.

May. 6th, 1945: birth of Dorcas’ cousin, Imelda Meadowes.

Jan. 25th, 1946: birth of Dorcas’ cousins, Dominick, Frank, Rita and Meera Lehrer.

Oct. 9th, 1946: birth of Dorcas Chaviva Meadowes.

Oct. 9th, 1947: Dorcas Meadowes’ first birthday.

Nov. 23rd, 1947: death of Chaviva Naama Lehrer.

Oct. 9th, 1948: Dorcas Meadowes’ second birthday.

Apr. 13th, 1949: birth of Dorcas’ cousin, Craig Meadowes.

Oct. 9th, 1949: Dorcas Meadowes’ third birthday.

Oct. 9th, 1950: Dorcas Meadowes’ fourth birthday.

Sep. 3rd, 1951: Dorcas starts attending “pre-school”, ran by the local Synagogue.

Oct. 9th, 1951: Dorcas Meadowes’ fifth birthday.

Sep. 5th, 1952: Dorcas starts muggle schooling.

Oct. 9th, 1952: Dorcas Meadowes’ sixth birthday.

Oct. 9th, 1953: Dorcas Meadowes’ seventh birthday.

Dec. 9th, 1953: allegations of domestic abuse are filed against Simon Meadowes; he is shunned by the community.

Aug. 28th, 1954: legal separation of Rivka and Simon Meadowes.

Aug. 29th, 1954: name change of Rivka Meadowes to Rivka Lehrer.

Aug. 29th, 1954: Rivka is awarded full custody of the nearly eight year old Dorcas.

Oct. 9th, 1954: Dorcas Meadowes’ eighth birthday.

Oct. 9th, 1955: Dorcas Meadowes’ ninth birthday.

Jun. 2nd, 1956: divorce of Rivka and Simon Meadowes legalised.

Oct. 9th, 1956: Dorcas Meadowes’ tenth birthday.

Oct. 9th, 1957: Dorcas Meadowes’ eleventh birthday.

Sep. 1st, 1958: Dorcas attends her local school of magic (for pre-Hogwarts magical education).

Oct. 9th, 1958: Dorcas Meadowes’ twelfth birthday.

Jul. 14th, 1959: marriage of Isabel Watson and Simon Meadowes, to which Dorcas was not invited.

Jul. 21st, 1959: completion of Dorcas Meadowes’ first year of magical education.

Sep. 1st, 1959: Dorcas attends her local school of magic (for pre-Hogwarts magical education).

Oct. 9th, 1959: Dorcas Meadowes’ thirteenth birthday and subsequent Hogwarts letter.

Dec. 22nd, 1959: car accident leading to the deaths of Zola, Tzvi, Isabel, Simon and unnamed baby Meadowes.

Dec. 28th, 1959: the joint funeral of the Meadowes family.

Jul. 21st, 1960: completion of Dorcas Meadowes’ second year of magical education.

Sep. 1st, 1960: the Sorting Hat sorts Dorcas Meadowes into Slytherin. She starts her first year.

Sep. 9th, 1960: Dorcas receives her first detention (and not her last).

Oct. 9th, 1960: Dorcas Meadowes’ fourteenth birthday.

May. 26th, 1961: first meeting of Rivka Lehrer and Gerald Daniels.

Jul. 21st, 1961: completion of Dorcas Meadowes’ first year.

Jul. 22nd, 1961: first meeting of Dorcas Meadowes and Gerald Daniels.

Sep. 1st, 1961: start of Dorcas Meadowes’ second year.

Sep. 3rd, 1961: Dorcas Meadowes joins the Slug Club and the Duelling Club.

Sep. 19th, 1961: audition to join the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Oct. 9th, 1961: Dorcas Meadowes’ fifteenth birthday.

Jul. 21st, 1962: completion of Dorcas Meadowes’ second year.

Sep. 1st, 1962: start of exam year.

Oct. 9th, 1962: Dorcas Meadowes’ sixteenth birthday.

Jan. 4th, 1963: marriage of Rivka and Gerald Daniels.

Jul. 21st, 1963: completion of exam year; she sat her OWLs.

Jul. 21st, 1963: completion of Dorcas Meadowes’ exam year.

Jul. 22nd, 1963: start of Dorcas Meadowes’ third year.

Oct. 9th, 1963: Dorcas Meadowes’ seventeenth birthday.

Feb. 6th, 1974: adoption of Isaac and Petra Daniels.

Jun. 18th, 1964: meeting with Slughorn for career aspects and subsequent subject choice solidified.

Jun. 19th, 1964: first meeting with Garrick Ollivander is scheduled.

Jul. 21st, 1964: completion of Dorcas Meadowes’ third year.

Aug. 3rd, 1964: informal acceptance to work under Ollivander as a Wandmaker’s Apprentice, pending formal acceptance from Hogwarts Board for the year commencing 1964.

Sep. 1st, 1964: start of Dorcas Meadowes’ fourth year and first as Ollivander’s apprentice.

Oct. 9th, 1964: Dorcas Meadowes’ eighteenth birthday.

Jul. 21st, 1965: completion of Dorcas Meadowes’ fourth year and first as Ollivander’s apprentice.

Sep. 1st, 1965: start of Dorcas Meadowes’ fifth year and second as Ollivander’s apprentice.

Oct. 9th, 1965: Dorcas Meadowes’ nineteenth birthday.

Nov. 5th, 1966: Dorcas accidentally blows her own eyebrows off.

Nov. 8th, 1966: Dorcas first meets a Unicorn and collects some wand cores for the first time (and is #smitten).

Jul. 21st, 1966: completion of Dorcas Meadowes’ fifth year and second as Ollivander’s apprentice.

Sep. 1st, 1966: start of Dorcas Meadowes’ sixth year and third as Ollivander’s apprentice.

Oct. 9th, 1966: Dorcas Meadowes’ twentieth birthday.

Jan. 31st, 1967: Dorcas travels to Romania with Ollivander.

Feb. 18th, 1967: Dorcas collects Dragon Heartstrings for use in Ollivander’s wands.

Apr. 19th, 1967: Dorcas witnesses wand wood collection for the first time.

Jun. 6th, 1967: Dorcas returns to Hogwarts.

Jul. 21st, 1967: completion of Dorcas Meadowes’ sixth year and third as Ollivander’s apprentice.

Sep. 1st, 1967: start of Dorcas Meadowes’ seventh year and fourth as Ollivander’s apprentice.

Oct. 9th, 1967: Dorcas Meadowes’ twenty first birthday.

Dec. 2nd, 1967: Dorcas meets other wandmakers from across Europe and the Americas.

Jul. 21st, 1968: graduation of Dorcas Meadowes with the class of 1968.

Oct. 9th, 1968: Dorcas Meadowes’ twenty second birthday.

Oct. 11th, 1968: formal induction into the beginnings of the Order of the Phoenix.

Feb. 1st, 1969: Dorcas begins a temp (six mo.) position working with an Eastern European wandmaker, at the urging of Albus Dumbledore.

Jul. 22nd, 1969: Ollivander offers Dorcas a full time position.

Aug. 9th, 1969: formal acceptance of full time position at Ollivander’s wandshop.

Aug. 14th, 1969: first full official day as a Wandmaker employed by Ollivander, even if her title still says apprentice.

Oct. 9th, 1969: Dorcas Meadowes’ twenty third birthday.

Oct. 9th, 1970: Dorcas Meadowes’ twenty fourth birthday.

Jan. 1st, 1971: first wand made by Dorcas Meadowes.

Oct. 9th, 1971: Dorcas Meadowes’ twenty fifth birthday.

Aug. 27th, 1972: first wand made by Dorcas Meadowes sells.

Oct. 9th, 1972: Dorcas Meadowes’ twenty sixth birthday.

Oct. 9th, 1973: Dorcas Meadowes’ twenty seventh birthday.

Feb. 26th, 1974: Order of the Phoenix mission (aka errand running for Dumbledore) causing numerous injuries which leaves her hospitalised for three months in recovery.

Aug. 8th, 1974: Dorcas is benched from field missions for the Order of the Phoenix.

Oct. 9th, 1974: Dorcas Meadowes’ twenty eighth birthday.

Jan. 9th, 1975: murder of Rivka Daniels (under definitely suspicious circumstances); Death Eaters involvement is confirmed by ongoing Auror investigation following Dark Mark burned onto every surface of the Daniels home.

Jan. 10th, 1975: Dumbledore waives the bench placed on Dorcas, allowing her back into field duty.

Oct. 9th, 1975: Dorcas Meadowes’ twenty ninth birthday.

Oct. 9th, 1976: Dorcas Meadowes’ thirtieth birthday.

November 18th, 1976: Dorcas arranges a Portkey for her muggle step-father, adoptive brother (13) & sister (14) and travels with them to New Zealand before Apparating home & having a friend Obliviate the Portkey provider.

Oct. 9th, 1977: Dorcas Meadowes’ thirty first birthday.

Oct. 9th, 1978: Dorcas Meadowes’ thirty second birthday.

Oct. 9th, 1979: Dorcas Meadowes’ thirty third birthday.

A LIL’ EXPANSION.

Dorcas Chaviva Meadowes was born to doting Afro-British Ashkenazi Jewish parents, Simon and Rivka Meadowes. For the first few years of her life, things were almost picturesque. They lived in a sheltered, Jewish community where the colours of their skin meant nothing, only the observation of the faith that had been driven out by the events of the Holocaust, from which all their families were still reeling. Simon, who had struggled with the generational trauma far more than Rivka had and had struggled through life with an abusive father ( ever changed by the realities of war, and watching his family members die ), moved the family after four years of living there. Then, everything changed. Rivka refused to stop what she’d always known: her pride in her families rich history of Judaism struck a chord in Simon that they both never wanted to be struck. He changed, almost overnight, beating on her almost relentlessly until he broke her arm in a fight over whether or not Dorcas would stay with her Luhrer grandfather for a night. That was when she kicked Simon out. It wasn’t the Jewish way, but, it was the best way for her to protect her daughter from the pain of an abusive father. Rivka’s love for her daughter, who had no sense of self preservation, and was the scrappiest fighter.

Dorcas Meadowes dealt with her generational trauma in a way nobody suspected: staying true to some aspects of the Jewish faith, but also completely abandoning some ideals ( they’d always assumed she’d run from her blood, run, run, run, like her father had. ) She fought, relentlessly, climbed her way out of her own interpretation of hell, and ended up earning a letter to a magical school. This, was the only thing she laughed herself silly at. She wasn’t afraid of death. Wasn’t afraid of the Holocaust repeating itself ( although, in hindsight, she feels that it’s already begun, just for the eradication of her people, her fellow mudbloods ). She wasn’t afraid of much of anything, but the idea that this was a hoax? That the only thing she felt made her special, made her feel as if she could rise above all the xenophobes and racists and Holocaust deniers, was a hoax? It terrified the living daylights out of her, and her cynicism developed as almost a smokescreen, an emotional failsafe, a protective barrier between her and the rest of the world. When she found out it was real, she was overjoyed, in her own way. She leapt from strength to strength at Hogwarts, finding herself distancing her inner most thoughts from the world at the reality that the Wizarding world was just as corrupt as the muggle one, at the reality that people hated those with muggle blood in their veins for just being so.

Her going from strength to strength meant that all eyes were on her. From her first year to her last, people watched her incredibly closely. It wasn’t just because of how smart she was, how much ambition she had, how she clawed her way through Hogwarts, unrelenting, unforgiving, it was also because she’s a muggleborn. A piece of filth in Voldemort’s regards. Once she graduated with her NEWTs scores as high as possible, she joined Ollivander in his workshop. It’s a place she feels more at home in than she ever did Hogwarts. It’s the place where she found out her mother had been murdered. That her family was broken, forever. Now? She has no mother. Her father died years ago. Her step-father and her adopted siblings were sent far away from England, to New Zealand. Three years on and she’s still struggling with it, although she’d never admit that to anyone.

CHARACTER INSPIRATION.  Rosa Diaz ( Brooklyn Nine-Nine, ala always having a weapon on hand and the bisexual Vibez ), Jessica Jones ( Jessica Jones / The Defenders, ala drinking vodka from coffee cups and not giving a single fuck ), Frank Castle ( The Punisher, ala fighting for what they want to fight for and probably having dopeass symbols ), Johanna Mason ( The Hunger Games, ala the fucking constant, deep, burning rage and yes, she would strip in front of anyone, sdgaf ), Derek Morgan ( Criminal Minds, ala the Trust Issues and being good with their hands ), Alexander Hamilton ( Hamilton, ala the fucking relentless nature ), Ziva David ( NCIS, ala badass bitch ), Nick Torres ( NCIS, ala being very uncomfortable showing emotion ), Cristina Yang ( Grey’s Anatomy, ala the sarcastic bitch, I chose my person and the rest of you on this fuckin’ mudball don’t mean shit ), Toby Ziegler ( The West Wing, ala the ‘you’re too sad, Toby.’ scene and literally the most cynical ass on that way, way too optimistic show ), Any Shadowhunter, there’s probably More but I literally can’t remember a thing.

RANDOM FACKS.

“Damn, you got no chill!” “Fuckin' right I'm relentless.” is probably the best way to describe anyone @ dorcas and her response.

one of the best duellists of the age, in all probability ( which explains her probable kicking of everyone’s asses during practices @ the duelling club ). 

definitely still dealing with the generational trauma that comes from being biologically  jewish ( ashkenazi jewish ) and having grandparents who survived the holocaust because they were smuggled out by a non-jewish neighbour.

would actually fight anyone. would also fuck anyone, but, yk, that has lead to some Problematic situations she’s had to drag herself out of.

nobody actually knows about her families whereabouts ? the only one that probably does is dumbledore himself & anyone who finds out is sworn to secrecy & she would definitely resort to the unbreakable vow to stop anyone telling voldemort or accidentally spilling it

and actually Is the definition of slytherin ? she’s INCREDIBLY ambitious & ruthless but she’s also hella f*ckin’ smart & has brains for DAYS.

thinks the gov’t is shit & believes that the era of the ministry is going to come to an end at some point b/c if it doesn’t, the death eaters will have free reign & she’s prepared to be That Anarchist, if it comes down to it.

actually does have a death wish, in all probability.

do not move coffee if she is near it. this is no joke. she could & would threaten you & then follow through.

actually only really afraid of irrelevancy???? dorcas is. ambitious. and she wants more than anything to be remembered. which is funny, considering she never is. her name is simply a footnote. 

likes droobles. hates basically most other forms of sweets. sugar quills are too sweet, those weird cockroach chocolate things are NOT her thing, licorice is the worst thing Ever Patented.

hates orange juice. seriously. 

was seeker on the slytherin quidditch team for several years. loves flying. doesn’t ever let herself do it for enjoyment anymore.

tired honestly.

misses her sister and brother a lot but won’t talk abt it.

would kill to sleep but also will not sleep.

smiles a lot but its nearly always either sarcastic or a defence mechanism so no one actually knows what shes thinking, lmao.

f*ck voldemort, yo.

probs alastor moody’s best friend at this point lmaoooooo. trust issue bffs. fskdfnksd.

gonna end up experiencing a lot! of Pain in the future! and has experienced a lot of Pain already!

listen if you’re her friend her answer to any problem that you have with anybody has literally been responded to with simply “stab them.” she swears by it.

will bite u. has bitten ppl before. did honestly get a detention for doing exactly that in her first year. they shouldn’t have put their hand near her after calling her a mudblood!!!!

if you need someone to get something done, dorcas is your girl. but don’t expect any hugs or smiles or condolences when things go wrong. she’s blunt and no nonsense and definitely trained herself out of any form of compassion after being locked in with the purists under the fucking lake for seven years. #fuckudumbles 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.  

friends! people who Knew her in school! and were not slytherins! bc i know dorcas made a lot of enemies out of the ppl in her own house (not only bc she just existed but also bc she did get into a lot of trouble, lost them house points, got detentions constantly, but stayed at the top of the class and was actually friends with slughorn.

a healer???? mediwitches???? someone who Knew her when she was stuck in a mf bed for three months recovering after dumbledore sent her to fuckin albania and she nearly died thanks to fuckin giants. (also @ hagrid she luvs u. this is not @ u.)

ex boyfriends. ex girlfriends! she used to be someone who could love fairly openly. but she would never, ever let someone in now, unless they’d already found their way in years before (ala unrequited to requited friends to lovers shit or even enemies to friends to enemies to lovers idfk i make no sense).

dedalus diggle. for the fuckin hilarity that is dorcas, ultra competent badass lady, recruitin the biggest dumbass this side of the atlantic. (ok but seriously him turning into her psuedo little brother after she swore she would never get attached again.... yes.)

ppl she should not have had sex with but Definitely Did. either theyre actually marked death eaters or people who literally made her want to burn hogwarts to the ground when they were at school together, idfk.)

ppl she’s hospitalised before. PPL SHE’S STABBED BEFORE BECAUSE DORCAS DEFINITELY HAS A LIST OF PEOPLE SHE HAS AND HASN’T RANKED BY WHO DESERVED IT THE MOST DKJF this is also why dumbledore actually benched her lmao.

friends that she would fight to the Death for. she’s not a hufflepuff or a gryffindor but she sure is loyal. ones that she now considers to be family, even if she can’t Express it with words or ever truly say how much she cares (bc that makes you vulnerable. and vulnerability now is only going to get people killed). would love to also have one of these ppl be who finds dorcas’ dead body lol

basically anything okay i suck at these

[suicidalcatz]

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 14

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3 ; Chap 4 ; Chap 5 ; Chap 6 ; Chap 7 ; Chap 8 ; Chap 9 ; Chap 10 ; Chap 11 ; Chap 12 ; Chap 13

Masterlist : Here

AN : Hey guys! Sorry I’m late, I’m super excited about this chapter, you’ll know why soon! Starting from now I rushed things a bit because I figured you’ll get impatient by now (47 pages with this chapter). This takes place just after the end of Part 13 ! Please please tell me what you thought of it, I’m excited to read your comments! On a sad note, I’m late on my chapters so I won’t be able to keep the rythmn of 2 updates per week. Thank you for all your love and support it warms my heart and pushes me to always do my best !

Chapter 14 : Is this your gift ?

The evening went on pleasantly, as always when we were together. Mandy told us about her making out with a boy at New Year's Eve and awful uncle jokes at Christmas. Josh shared more embarrassing highschool stories from the time he was a theater kid, that Jake obviously wasn't aware of until now. The long haired guitarist seemed to feel better now, or at least his mind was focusing on something else than his breakup, adding his contribution to Josh's anecdotes and laughing alongside us when his brother shared some shameful memories of him. Both of us were tightly wrapped on a blanket after having dried ourselves the best we could. I could still feel the fabric of my dress sticking to my skin in an uncomfortable way, whereas Jake didn't bother further with his damp shirt and had completely removed it for a new one. It was his room after all. And just for the record, the knowing smile Josh had given me when his brother was shirtless had been enough to prevent me from peaking.

When night dusked on us, the boys not only decided to serve eggnog and hot tea/coffee to keep us warm, but also to get their respective guitars out of their cases, owning surprised glances from Mandy and I.

- Do you own a guitar, Josh ?

- Now I know last time I said playing the guitar wasn't one of my many talents, but with the help of Jakey here, he gestured, I think it's safe to say it is now.

- Yeah let's not get ahead of ourselves here, added the brunette.

Sitting on the carpet with my cup of hot tea/coffee warming my hands and the blanket still on my shoulders, I let my back rest against Jake's bed while intently watching him place his accoustic guitar on his thighs, making sure it was in tune. Seeing Josh study his brother while imitating him like a good student made me smile, it was a cute sight. He was very serious about it, they both were about music, there was no denying that. The boys must've played this song before because no one exchanged a word on what they were about to play and yet when Jake whispered « 1, 2, 3, 4... » and began playing, Josh joined in the soft and slow melody, letting it caress our ears. The cosy atmosphere instantly put me at ease, the warmth and softness of the blanket in addition to the boys playing together was about to lull me to sleep. It was Jake's singing voice that put me out of my drowse. Similar to his brother yet lower and rougher, less experienced and more hesitant. His eyes stayed on his guitar strings when he sang the first lyrics of John Lennon's Happy Xmas, while I kept watching him, mouth slightly agape. Josh joined in, his singing experience more fitted to sing the acute and angelic's choir part, as he continued to glance at his brother's fingers dancing on the strings to make sure he was doing it right. The boy looked so proud by the end of the song, biting his lip with an expecting glance that made Mandy and I applaud and congratulate him.

- Okay, you're making me blush, let's listen to some music !

As time went by, Josh was getting a little bit too excited about the gifts under the tree. Like a child, he would pass by it multiple times, eyes hypnotized by the colorful wrapping paper and the ribbons on top, trying to guess what was inside. It's when Jake had finally enough of seeing him circle around them like a Christmas vulture (his words, not mine) that he declared it was time for us to exchange presents. And as I should've known, Josh was more excited about Mandy and I receiving our gifts than the other way around. He wanted to see our faces so much he had prepared his polaroïd camera for the occasion. Was it that good ? His eagerness and enthusiasm got into me and I could barely wait for him to be ready when he handed us both a small, messily wrapped, rectangular package. Once he was crouching in front of us with his face glued to the camera, Josh announced for us to start unwrapping. Decorating gifts really wasn't part of his qualifications. Everything fell apart when I pulled the ribbon, the paper opening its folds around my hand like a flower, delicately displaying the present in its heart. It was a black, red and green CD titled Greta Van Fleet, the name of their band. Seeking answers, my head shot up to Josh flashing my confused figure, while Jake simply smiled behind his cup of tea.

- You guys it's an album... W-When ? How ?

- Just to be clear, it's not a big deal, clarified Jake.

Josh put his camera aside, his bashful look glancing up from Mandy to me, before nervously scratching the back of his neck.

- Remember when you said you wanted to hear our songs again ? Well we had planned to record ourselves someday anyway so these are for you.

My heart instantly began to grow warm as a large grin spread itself on my lips, eyes fixated on the CD, the design of it, and the songs' titles. It made me so incredibly happy and giggly that they had thought about it, and took the time to make a copy for Mandy and I. And I was so proud of them for being so passionate about their music. Even if Jake made clear it wasn't anything official nor important, it still was so effing cool to hold their first album into my  own two hands. I couldn't wait to listen to it, and put the tracks on my phone to keep me company during my mornings in the workshop.

- Thank you so much, I smiled before hugging them both.

- How can you even find the time to record an album ? On a Christmas Holiday !

Mandy's comment made them laugh, but she was right, the boys couldn't stay home without something to do, or so it seemed. We didn't define a particular order for the gifts so Mandy offered hers after Josh, throwing a small and soft package to him, and handing the heavy one that was Jake's. Colorful kneesocks and a bottle of whisky, which they didn't wait to try on, of course. Josh immediately got into the kitchen to change to shorts so we could see his socks, and Jake poured himself a glass of whisky, switching between his two glasses.

- Okay doll, your turn.

- So, just in case you were wondering, Mandy and I already exchanged gifts because we saw each other during the holidays, I explained while handing them both a neatly wrapped package. So these are yours.

Seeing the boys squeeze and shake the gifts to try and figure what was inside made me more nervous than I had anticipated. I looked sheepish, in the middle of the room, sitting on the ground with my butt on my ankles, patiently waiting for them to stop with the suspenseful atmosphere and just rip the paper off their gifts. Josh was the first to give in to curiosity and was in my arms the next moment, thanking me for the gloves. It seemed like my friend and I raised the same concern about Josh's winter attire. Like he did with her, the boy kissed my cheek before trying them on, while Mandy took pictures, letting the polaroïd photos fall on the comfy carpet. Turning my head to Jake sitting on his bed, I couldn't really decipher his expression. A tiny black box was open in his hand, eyes caressing the ring on it like he wouldn't dare touching it. Suddenly feeling bashful, I understood it was time for me to explain myself regarding my choice of gifts, so I stood up, and carefully took place next to him.

- You forgot your rings at my dorm the other day, I said softly. I always see you wearing tons of them, so I figured I'd take this opportunity to buy you a new one... and also because the black one fell behind the fridge and I can't get it.

A small, nervous giggle escaped my throat. I wanted him to know that, like their album, it wasn't a big deal. I hadn't given it much thought when I chose to buy him a ring, there was no promise nor engagement behind it, just... Me thinking he would like another one of those. Or did I ?  Interromping my rambling, Jake's hand squeezed my thigh and his eyes found mine, face affectionate, smile warm.

- Thank you. I love it.

My face grew uncomfortably hot as we just stared at each other, with his long calloused fingers resting on my knee, long enough for me to start squirming on the bed. This sudden proximity was already making me a nervous wreck, so I abruptly stood up, nearly knocking my head on Josh's bed in the process.

- Right, your rings, here.

Opening his hand, I placed the three of them in it, enjoying the feeling of my fingers caressing his, before turning on my heels to get another drink. The other two must've noticed, because in the corner of my eye I saw them exchanging a knowing yet skittish glance. And I didn't even wanted to think about what these gremlins were up to, not that I had the time to do so anyway because it was Jake's turn to get on his feet and grab his paper bag, placing thin boxes in Mandy and I's hands.  Already knowing what he bought my roommie, I waited a bit to see her reaction when opening the box. And her reaction to the jewelry was great, she screamed excitedly, jumped and hugged Jake in a tight embrace but... I kept staring at the silver bracelet Josh was tying for her while confusion swept over me. It wasn't the one he had chosen.

- Won't you open yours ?

Jake's low voice was in my ear, making it instantly redden as if every part of my body agreed to fall under his charm. Doe eyed and taken aback by his sudden closeness, Jake’s hands found mine, making them slide on the smooth material, guiding them to open the box, glancing up at me when they did, studying my reaction. When my eyes landed on the gift, the thumping of my heart was so loud I got scared for a second he could hear me. It was the necklace he bought the other day. Even more confused, I searched in his brown pupils for an answer I didn't receive, fingertips shakily holding the box.

- Do you want me to put it on for you ?, his husky voice murmured.

Maybe my body went on auto pilot mode because the next thing I knew, his fingertips delicately put my hair back and caressed the sensitive skin of my neck to attach the purple necklace, his hair tickling me in the process. Jake took a moment to admire the sight in front of him, a smile on his face.

- I was right, it looks good on you.

- Thank you, I murmured, feeling shy.

It was all too overwelming. The present, our newfound intimacy, his gaze scrutinizing me, his breakup... It made me feel several ways all at once, something I wasn't quite ready for, and hadn't expected when I came here to party with friends. Josh must've known about the Mina situation because he didn't interfere once this evening, letting us grow accustomed to each other's presence, trying to test the waters like two strays encountering each other in the purest way imaginable. Like we were meeting for the first time. And while we kept looking into each other's eyes for an unspoken truth, the sound of music woke us from our transe. Josh had begun chanting along the slow song, quietly but confidently, sharing the joint he had lit up with Mandy, taking her hand in his, making her sway gently in the room.

Stars shining bright above you,

Night breezes seem to whisper « I love you ».

Birds singing in the sycamore trees,

Dream a little dream of me.

We watched them dance in silence in the dimmed lit room before Jake offered me his hand, the ring I had bought him reflecting the candles' light, shining bright. I gave him mine, and his arm found its way in the small of my back, pressing our bodies closer to each other, eyes never leaving mine. My dress was still a little bit damp, but he didn't seem to care, more engrossed in making me sway smoothly than everything else. And my whole being was so captivated by him that I couldn't care less about anything else happening around us. We were in our own little bubble, Josh's voice the only thing reminding us we weren't the only two people in the world. I didn't know how long it lasted, probably 3 to 4 minutes, the lenght of the song, but my eyes kept looking at him, lost in the brown ocean of his pupils. His embrace kept me warm, both inside and out, and I couldn't help a sheepish grin from adorning my features, showcasing the blush on my cheeks. Too absorbed himself, Jake sometimes bumped against furniture, or tripped on the carpet, but then we smiled, and continued dancing. I could tell we both were at ease with each other, his touch felt natural, like our skins were meant to connect. It made me think of the last time we were here together, on his bed, sharing our knowledge about stars and comets. The only star I could see now was him, shining oh so bright just in front of me, beautiful.

It all came to a stop when the song ended, filling the room with silence. Our eye contact continued, intense and questionning, as we got back to Earth, arms still tangled together. From afar, I could hear Josh changing the record, talking to Mandy, but everything seemed like a distant mumble to my ears.

- Would you mind ?

It was Josh, shaking us awake, making us hurriedly let go of each other as if we just realized what was going on. We were still baffled when he took Jake by the shoulders to move us away from the desk, opening the drawers in need of something all of a sudden.

- Oh !, exclaimed Mandy.

We all jerked our heads to her, hiding her giggles behind her hand in a girly way. Josh followed, an awfully wide toothy grin stretching his lips. Jake, like me, looked positively confused. Was my dress damaged ? Did I fuck up and didn't realize ? Like he had thought the same, the long haired boy looked at me, without finding anything, before Josh took place next to Mandy, backed against the drawer holding the records, joint in hand. Mine raised in a questionning manner, not understanding why they were serving us the big mischevious smirks.

As an answer, Josh slowly pointed his index to the ceiling. Mistletoe.

- You know the rule.

My whole body shook with embarrassment, not knowing how Jake would react and not really wanting to know either. Refusing to meet his gaze, I kept mine fixated on the ground while he studied the branch hanging out from a string, dangling above our heads like it was mocking us. Oh how I always hated those situations. All of them including a cute boy that would probably refuse to kiss me, without sparing me the shame of his rejection. I had to cut this awkward moment short.

- We're not forced, I murmured, if you don't want to then I-

- Who says I don't want to ?

That left me mouth agape. Jake didn't let my brain any time to process any of these informations before placing a hand to my jaw, brushing away the hair from my face, watching me carefully, silently asking for permission. My eyelids fluttered shut before I could even think, and in an instant, a soft and warm touch covered my lips, making me sigh deeply, releasing the breath I didn't know I was holding. My hand found his cheek at the same time his caressed the spot behind my ear, and his scent filled my nostrils. My heart was about to leap from my ribcage, and the simple sensation of his lips against mine made my knees turn to jelly. My head was filled with fireworks. I felt so small and vulnerable yet so safe in his arms, I never wanted for it to stop. During several seconds, we shared a chaste kiss, that lasted maybe more than was initially intentionned. Slowly, painfully so, I felt Jake's soft lips separating from their playmates, sighing, as we shared a shaky breath, opening our eyes to discover the other's face. I could tell in his gaze that something had clicked. His eyes were staring at me behind heavy lids, a sparkle I never saw before twinkling, watching me as if he was rediscovering me all over again while Bruce Springsteen's Fire played softly in the background.

You say you don't love me

But you can't hide your desire

When we kiss

Ooh... Fire.

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

A Taste Of Christmas, 6/6

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 6/6.

Pairings: Metacrisis Nine x Rose.

A/N: Sequel for The Summertime Of Our Lives. Written for doctorroseprompts' ficmas challenge. Ficmas challenge: Celebrate, Gifts, Joy, Unwrap, Friends, Mistletoe. Tagging @thebookster on her demand.

“Christmas is a time when you get homesick - even when you're home.” - Carol Nelson.

CHAPTER 6:

The day had finally come. It was hard to tell who was the most excited. The Doctor would say that it was his Rosie but Tony wasn’t outdone. They were bouncing around the house and singing Christmas songs. Rose had gone through the entire repertory and taught them all to Tony who was more than happy to sing them at the top of his lungs along with his sister. The Doctor felt compelled to run away from the house to save his ears from the slaughter of songs he never liked anyway. He had learned to love Christmas with all his companions and if songs might have pleased some of his past incarnations, he wasn’t like that. Humans had taken the concept of Christmas too seriously and were overdoing it with the decorations and music and last-minute shopping rushes. Well, he hadn’t been better on that point. He had travelled in this universe to gather the best decorations and ingredients for a perfect celebration. He was currently organising the last details for the evening: checking the exterior’s decorations, all the cables; making sure the fairy lights would switch on at the right time and… shovelling the alley leading to the house. To magnify their Christmas, snow had decided to fall all night. The main roads of town had been cleared but it was up to the inhabitants to clear their places. Consequently, the Doctor was shovelling the alley, drawing a path in the middle of this white cover. Rose had insisted for him to wear a thick coat, a scarf, gloves and a hat. She didn’t want him to catch a cold. It wouldn’t be the right moment. He hadn’t been sick yet since he was a human. Except for the events of last summer, except for his depression. He had never gone through basic sickness and Rose thought he would handle it very badly. As if he was that vulnerable. She didn’t know him that well. The night was slowly falling. Rose and Tony were in the kitchen. They were cooking the last dishes for the dinner and setting the table. The Doctor had provided everything they needed, had helped as much as he could – especially with the alcohol making. Now, his job was to welcome the guest when they would arrive. They shouldn’t be long. The meeting hour indicated on the invitation was drawing closer. The excitation and anxiety too. That was their first meal between friends. There would be a lot of people and that was an ordeal to eat in front of people, including people trained to notice every detail. Alec Hardy disliked him. Their relation had gotten better after he saved him on that boat. It wasn’t the best but it was better than it had been when they first met. In a couple months of time, it was an improvement. He had better bonds with the other guests. They were nicer, more agreeable. Hopefully, they wouldn’t remark his eating disorder. “Don’t bite your nails. It’s gonna be alright.” A soft hand topped his and gently forced him to put his fingers away form his mouth. It delicately wiped the saliva away and let go of his hand. Thankfully he hadn’t had the time to bite them too badly. His hands were red and cold. The temperatures had dropped and it was freezing outside. The windows were already decorated with ice crystals turning them opaque until the next morning. Their guests wouldn’t be surprised by the slippery roads. The Doctor had thrown salt all over their alley so they could park safely. And if they had to stay over for the whole night, the guest rooms were ready. “It’s just a bunch of friends. You’ve met them already.” “Ellie and Beth are fine but…” “Because they’re women?” Rose mocked him. “Because they’re not Shitty Face and God-Botherer.” “Don’t call them that.” He only gained a slap on the chest with such nicknames. Rose dragged him inside the house. Tony was watching cartoons on telly and wouldn’t move from there until the guests arrive. He was wearing an elf costume and hadn’t forgotten about the ears. Rose had picked a red dress and had worked hard on it to turn it into a full Mother Christmas costume for herself. He was the one who made Tony’s costume with the TARDIS’ help. He had told Rose that he had bought it on a market in a galaxy far, far away but she was seeing through the lie and had guessed the truth. It had been her idea to wear matching outfits that were Christmas related. He was supposed to wear a Santa Claus costume, had refused but the clothes on the counter weren’t the ones he had picked earlier. He gave Rose a suspicious look. “You swapped my clothes.” “Yup.” “Yup,” he repeated, exasperated. “I said no.” “You sound like Donna, careful love;” “Doesn’t that scare you to death?” “Donna had a terrible temper but she was a great and faithful friend.” “I can’t deny that. But you’re avoiding the subject.” “That’s just black pants and a red shirt,” she sighed. “You’re no fun.” She gave up on him to focus on her reflection in the mirror. The clothes were the first part of her getting ready for the celebration of their first Christmas. Now, she had to comb her hair and do her make-up. She didn’t need his help for that so he pulled on the red and white striped socks, the black pants and the red shirt. On the chest pocket, he noticed an embroidered white gift. One of the loops of its ribbon was continuing its course and forming elegant words on the pocket. Santa Claus. Discreet and distinguished. That, he really liked. And for that reason, he accepted to wear the formal shoes and Christmas hat. He ignored Rose’s smile in the mirror and left the bathroom. He just had the time to check on Tony before the first doorbell rang. A brief push on the button. Someone serious. Probably the one the Doctor wanted the least to be left alone with. Opening the front door proved him right: the detective Alec Hardy was standing on the threshold. His daughter Daisy was with him. She gave the Doctor a smile when Hardy just nodded a hello. “Dad was very intrigued by your ‘Christmas’ thing,” chuckled Daisy. “But I still had to convince him to come over. Last time he has been invited was at Ellie’s.” “And I brought wine, flowers and chocolate as gifts because I had no idea of what to bring at a dinner with other people.” “That’s what the conventions want when we’re living in society. No one takes in consideration that we might not be comfortable with these things.” For once, the detective was being nice. Was it because he was invited over? Because he was with his daughter? Or just because of said conventions? They were all gathered in the living room, sat on the couch and armchair while Tony was still on the ground, the eyes locked on the telly. They would turn it off when everyone would be here. Ellie joined them a couple minutes later with her sons, Fred and Tom. Behind her was Beth and her young daughter Elizabeth. Obviously, they had forgotten about their feud – more than a feud, it was Beth who couldn’t cope with the fact that Joe, Ellie’s estranged husband, was responsible for the death of her son, Danny. They had decided to forget this fact for a whole evening obviously. The Reverend Paul Coates was the last one to arrive. Reverend was just a name he was given since there was no clerical hierarchy here. He did believe in a superior entity watching over them all. There was just no word, no story to confirm his beliefs. People were going to him when they needed to talk to someone who wasn’t a doctor. The man was nice, full of optimism and he could find the right words when needed. That was his bad habit to always trying to convince everyone of his truth was the only thing the Doctor had to reproach to him. The celebration truly started when Rose honoured them of her presence. The Doctor was speechless when he saw her coming downstairs in her red dress, combed hair and perfect make-up. His heart might have stopped too. Rose had to whisper in his ear for the spell to be broken, for him to snap back to reality. His pupils were dilated and his heart was beating hard. He couldn’t wait for the moment he would be able to slip that dress down her body. He was the only one not to be single tonight. Well, maybe. Their Christmas was a real success and everyone was filled with joy. They enjoyed this party they knew nothing about weeks ago. Beth even said that she would probably celebrate it again next year. Ellie thought it was a nice tradition to have, Paul agreed and Hardy… Hardy was being Hardy. Happy but sullen. Daisy was translating his expressions, reading between the lines of a father that almost never showed anything. When midnight rang, the Doctor picked the large bag of gifts from the workshop and distributed them all to the guests, Rose and Tony. It was a big surprise to everyone who didn’t know about Christmas and they unwrapped their package to find out the small present their hosts were offering them. Everyone seemed to appreciate and the Doctor was looking at them all with a smile. “You forgot a present, Doc,” noticed a tired Tony. “Nope.” “Where’s yours?” “I don’t offer gifts to myself. And I have all I need here.” His arm encompassed the table where his family and friends were all gathered. The one life he thought he would never have. The one life he was living day after day. This was the most precious gift he could ever have asked for. “Actually, I have one for you.” Rose got up and walked to her workshop. She grabbed the package she was keeping hidden in one of her boxes of art supplies. It was a little nothing, just a frame she had made herself with pictures of him and her. A frame he could hang anywhere in the house. “Do you like it?” Rose was very anxious about her art and needed to be reassured all the time about it. The Doctor wasn’t pronouncing a word and that didn’t help with her anxiety. However, he was so moved by this small gift that he couldn’t find the right words. “I love it,” he finally articulated. “Everyone will be jealous. Now, they can see how talented and beautiful my wife.” The concerned wife blushed while their friends were laughing at the cuteness of their love. They certainly were jealous of their happiness. Especially when Tony pointed out that there was a branch of mistletoe above their heads, obliging them to share a kiss for the tradition to be respected…

The end...

A Taste Of Christmas © | 2019 - 2020 | Tous droits réservés.

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AO3 || TS.

[vore-scientist]

In Which A Curse (or two) Is Broken

(SFW GT M/f platonic safe/soft vore fluff with plot! No warnings) 

A Tale of the Mystic Woods

Gardening! Magic Lessons! Fluffy Vore! (A brief gay fairytale???) Yeah! That’s what you’ll find in this story!

Princess Sophia and Yonah the Wizard are my OCs, they are both adults, and part of my Mystic Woods series. I commissioned art for this chapter! So that’s in there too! 

Warnings: NONE! NO WARNINGS!

--- Today was going to be a beautiful day and it had only just begun. The sun shone through the white fluffy clouds, casting it’s warmth into the clearing. A few of the more lively plants turned their flowers towards it in reverence, while the even more lively ones fought each other for it’s attention. The plants that couldn’t move silently judged such antics. There was plenty of sun to go around. Soon enough the sun took care of the last bits of dew from even the most shaded of leaves. Around the same time Yonah and Sophia were finishing up breakfast. At the very least Sophia was. Sitting at the smaller table set upon Yonah’s it almost looked like Yonah had set up a tea party for his dolls. Except it was one doll. And it wasn’t a doll it was a princess. Not just any princess, but his best friend and student. Who looked rather adorable sitting across from him on her little chair, eating off her little plate, and drinking from her little cup. She would claim the same about him, and she would claim she wasn’t little because he was giant. Of course watching him eat was a little less charming since he was large enough to eat her if he so chose.

Which he did. Frequently. “Slow down! You’re going to choke or something,” Yonah warned as Sophia shoveled yoghurt, berries, and toast into her mouth with concerning energy.  “The sooner I finish the sooner you can teach me to enchant things!” she said between mouthfuls. “A few minutes isn’t going to make a difference, besides I don’t have anything for you to enchant,” he braced himself for the explosion. Sophia’s mouth hung open and half-chewed food fell back into her bowl in a very undignified manner. Yonah tried not to laugh. She closed her mouth and swallowed the rest. Then she opened her mouth again. “You’ve had all week to prepare and you’re telling me now you have NOTHING! YOU’RE A HORRIBLE TEACHER!” She looked she was about to cry. Or throw up. Or both. Oof. That stung a lot. She had clearly been looking forward to the lesson. It was not his intention to disappoint her so thoroughly. “Hey hey! The lesson is still happening!” He got up and went to the side of the table and bent down, resting his head in his elbows. Sophia turned away. He reached over and turned her chair, forcing her to face him. She protested but gave him her attention when she saw his wide, playful smile. “We just have to do some gardening first!” - Just like with breakfast, Sophia got dressed faster than Yonah. He found her on the workshop windowsill in her yellow short-sleeved shirt, orange overalls, thick leather boots, and what used to be sky-blue gloves. This look was echoed in his own outfit, which was the same except the colors were pink, grey-ish purple, sandals, and green. Instead of his wizard’s hat he had on a straw one. It was still a wizard’s hat. “Aww come on!!!” Sophia groaned as Yonah shrank down to the miniscule height of 2.3 meters and stood next to Sophia on the windowsill. At 1.6 meters she was about eye level with his navel. Chin level? “Climbing is good exercise!” he said as he started to climb down the sturdy vines that coiled around the tower in a permanent embrace. Grumbling, but still careful, she followed. The wizard smiled down at her as she joined him in the garden but she was focused on one thing. The trees at the edge of the garden that were weighed down by bright red and green apples. She ran. “HEY!” a large hand appeared in her way and she bounced off of it. Turning her head she gave him a dirty look. “Still in such a rush! There is work to do first. Come on,” he said. He took off his hat and stuck his arm in, pulling out watering cans and gardening tools. For the plants that got fed today he pulled out sacks of food and flasks of specially formulated water. Sophia snagged the one with a dragon’s face embroidered on it and ran to the flower bed containing the fire-breathing snapdragons. “ONE PER FLOWER!” he reminded her. “I KNOW!” she shouted back. Scores of little flowers that evoked the snouts of dragons eagerly jostled to greet the princess who squat next to the flower bed. With 23 stalks, each a different color, their movements were a bit discombobulating. It would be worse if they could physically change their position; thankfully they could only bend and twist their stems and stalks. “Good morning lovelies!” Sophia sang. A flower on the pearl stalk spewed a small flame at her and she chided it “Ch-Ch-Ch!” she chirped, rubbing the top of its head with a single finger. “I’m not Yonah remember! No fire!” She took out the food pellets and the flowers nibbled at her hand. Petals as soft as velvet. Thankfully they didn’t have teeth like real dragons, even if they breathed fire like them. They could tell the difference between Sophia and Yonah, but they just got excited sometimes. And who could blame them? It was feeding day! Each stalk is fed individually, a bit like feeding animals at a petting zoo. If such things existed in this world. And if the animals all had a bunch of little mouths on their faces. Sophia got attention of a single stalk and each flower would take a pellet. Some would get greedy and take more than one but their delicate flower mouths are very soft. A pinch to their cheeks and the food just falls right out. Once a flower was satisfied it would move and let another take its place. The hard part was keeping the other stalks out of the way. They would lean over and snake under her arms. It wasn’t their fault they had no patience, they barely had brains. They were plants. Next she watered the Vampire Fern while Yonah pruned the Venomous Shocking Nettle. Sophia was not allowed near the nettle yet, it didn’t like her. It didn’t like Yonah either. The Vampire Fern required specially treated water containing ferrous iron along with a source of sugars, fats, and proteins. In the wild it only grew caves, using the guano of vampire (like, real vampire) bats for nutrients and water. Growing it in sunlight was not advised as it resulted in strange mutations. But that’s what Yonah wanted: he was studying the effects of sunlight and had a theory one could predict and even manipulate the mutations with different sources of supplemented nutrients. The bed for this cultivation was set up as a grid and each square had a label to indicate what supplement it got. She was just about to water Row 5 Column 1 with a solution of 10% heat inactivated troll’s blood when she spotted a salamander. A common fire salamander with black skin and yellow spots. Except the pattern was slightly odd. On its shiny black head there was a ring of yellow dots. The salamander looked up at her and licked its eyes. “Hey little buddy! You don’t want this water, it will make you sick! Here,” she held out her hand. Instead of running away it crawled onto her palm without hesitation. “What’s got you all giggly?” Yonah called from across the garden. “I found a salamander!” A shadow fell over her. Almost as if he had teleported, Yonah was behind her. Heat radiated off of him as he looked past her and at the salamander in her hands. He bent down and reached for it, his expression hardened and dark. Sophia pulled her hand away in horror. “Oh no you don’t! I found it and I’m not letting you use this cutie in one of your awful potions!” The darkness and heat fell away as Yonah looked at her with a “glad to know you think so highly of me” expression. “The big bad wizard is not going to hurt you” Sophia cooed at the salamander, then glared at Yonah, “RIGHT” “No, I’m not gonna hurt him,” he said, locking eyes with the creature again. “May I?” Sophia looked from him to the salamander and handed it over. The either very brave or very foolish amphibian waddled onto Yonah’s finger. He brought it up to his eyes and scowled as it licked his knuckles. “I told you to scram last week! What are you still doing here?” The salamander did a little dance, but otherwise didn’t answer. “Are you feeling ok?” Sophia asked the wizard who was talking to a salamander. Yonah sighed. “This is an enchanted prince,” he explained and Sophia relaxed considerably, “I found him last week and told him that he needs to go somewhere else. His true love isn’t going to find him here, I get thieves, not nobles or royals- wait!” he grinned a wicked grin and Sophia grew worried again as he offered the creature back to her. She didn’t take it back. “You’re here! You can break his curse and he can finally leave!” “Why me!?” “Because it takes either True Love’s kiss or anyone of nobility, the curses aren’t picky when it comes to someone of status.” “No way!” she said, pushing his salamander adorned hand away, “This is just a regular salamander and you’re trying to get me to kiss it!” “I’m serious” “Then you kiss it!” “I’m not royalty, and I’m certainly not his True Love. It won’t work.” He pressed a finger onto the creature’s head and it’s eyes bulged a little and it stuck out its tongue. “Isn’t that right?” She crossed her arms narrowed her eyes. The salamander looked blankly into the distance. “Prove it!” Yonah closed his eyes and sighed. Not taking his eyes off Sophia he brought the salamander to his lips and gave it a gentle peck. Nothing happened. /See?/ he raised his eyes at her, holding out the salamander for her to take. The salamander held up it’s head and stuck out its tongue out as if to say “he told you so.” Growling she took it back. It hopped eagerly into her hands. “Fine. Here goes nothing.” She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the cold slimy sensation and pressed her lips to the salamander’s side. It was only slimy for a brief second, since the next she was kissing the cheek of a young prince! His hands were in hers. He stood up, several inches taller than Sophia and wearing a fancy golden crown. The prince was so full of excitement he was hopping up and down. He didn’t let go of her hand. “Oh my! I’m me!” He cheered. Then he got on one knee. “You have the thanks of Prince Fionn of Ziral, and his heart! Our wedding shall be most glorious!” Sophia jerked her hand away, her blood cold and pulsing like mad. “Wedding!?” “Of course, you saved me, we must be wed!” “Oh fuck no,” Sophia stepped back and looked fearfully at Yonah. She had only been here a short time! Barely started magic training! She wasn’t about to marry a salamander prince.   “Unfortunately,” Yonah stepped right behind the prince who paled upon looking up, “the princess Sophia is not available” He smiled a hungry smile. “Hello prince, nice to finally meet you” his voice was low and hostile, “You see, I’m an Evil Wizard and the princess is my captive. Breaking your curse does not negate that.” The prince looked like he was about to fall to pieces, but he was better trained than that “Then… then I’ll just have to rescue her from you! I can’t return home without a fiancé.” Yonah let out a thunderous laugh. Fionn yelped and even Sophia felt her heart skip a beat. She often forgot how good Yonah was at his job. “Rescue her?” Yonah made his eyes glow and hair start smoking like hot coals. “A scrawny little thing like you? There’s a reason you were the cursed one in your fairytale. If you want I could turn you into something else, as long as you leave my garden.” “Say! Just a thought!” Sophia piped up. The two men looked at her. “Is there, perhaps, another cursed person in the garden?” The prince brightened, fear forgotten, “Yes! Some lord or lady I think! They’re a snail over by the tomatoes!” Yonah looked down at the prince accusatorily. The prince grinned sheepishly, “The birds talked about them. Gossips you know.” A minute later Sophia returned with the most beautiful snail any of them had ever seen. It’s shell was practically encrusted with jewels. She handed it to Prince Fionn and he kissed it. Now there were three humans, well, three and a half, and two of which were very excited to be married. The snail turned out to be a nobleman named Kisan Icuda, who appeared wearing a stunning embroidered and rhinestoned vest. He couldn’t believe his luck that fate would bring him a prince. He was sure some lost merchant’s apprentice would find him. But a prince! The gods were smiling upon him. “That was a stroke of genius,” said Yonah, who was at Sophia’s side. “I can’t believe we didn’t notice the snail before.” She basked in his praise. The newly engaged couple skipped off into the woods to live happily ever after. But not before Yonah gave them a flawless ruby rose as an pre-wedding present. They were disappointed that Yonah couldn't attend thanks to not being allowed to stray far from his tower, and peeved that Sophia refused to attend without Yonah. They were further disheartened when Yonah shot down the idea to hold the wedding in his clearing. But not so disheartened as to ruin the moment. They did convince him to hold an engagement party. Somehow. “Hey don’t worry about the party, I’ll take care of it,” said Sophia, “I can get Daniel to help. He’s an amazing event planner!” Yonah wasn’t looking forward to hosting any event but was relieved that he didn’t have to do anything. He had no idea how to organize a party. -- Gardening was done! It was time to pick apples! The trees were sagging with them but still Sophia couldn’t reach. And Yonah didn’t need a ladder. The apples might be normal size but the trees were a bit larger than your average apple-bearing arboreal. “Alright, up you get!” Yonah picked her up by her waist and placed her on the lowest branch of the tree. “Naughty princesses get put in the tree for their crimes.” “I thought naughty princesses get eaten by giants” she sneered, but she climbed higher and began picking the apples. Tossing them down to the basket below. She threw one at Yonah’s head but he caught it. “Mmmm, maybe later,” said Yonah licking his lips thoughtfully, “Depends on how you do in today’s lesson.” He dropped the apple in the basket. “Don’t get your hopes up! I plan to nail enchanting some stupid apples.” The basket Yonah held was pretty large but it filled fast. There were so many apples that Sophia swore that new ones were growing as fast as she was picking. Yonah would reach up and pull a branch down, weeding his fingers along it to fell the apples right into the basket. Once it was full Sophia climbed down, landing on top of the bountiful harvest. It wasn’t comfortable but Yonah’s incredulous expression was worth it. She proudly picked up an apple and took a crisp bite.

(art by @pythonpie / @ravenous-beasts) “Now! Time for magic!” Yonah shook his head. “No, it’s time for lunch.” Sophia would have complained but he was absolutely right. Taking care of a magic garden was hungry work. -- FINALLY! It was time for magic! After a light lunch and changing out of their dirty gardening clothes, Yonah sat at his workbench and Sophia stood upon it. The basket of apples rested next to her. Except for one, which rested on a small stool in front of her. “So, what’s first, Eternal sleep? Petrification? Transformation? Arcane disease? Curse?” She was very excited, “Or! Are we doing beneficial spells? Super strength? Invisibility? Fire breathing?” Yonah rested his head on his hands, “Do you know any of those spells?” Sophia pouted and chuffed her heel on the wooden surface of the desk, “No.” Yonah went over to his cabinet and retrieved two small jars, which in his hands were like cylindrical marbles. One full of sunflower seeds and another of honey. Sophia took the jar of sunflower seeds.  “A light spell? Why would anyone put a light spell on an apple! It would be obviously enchanted!” she said, “And I don’t need seeds to cast light anymore, see.” She put the jar down and held out her hand, concentrating on pulling a little bit of magic to her. The light spell was a very simple spell. While learning to cast it the component to generate the magical identity was necessary. Now she could construct it herself with the just magical words and focus. “Ha!” a small pinprick of light spun a few inches over her palm. “You still need components for enchantments, at least for now. You’re right, a light enchantment is simple, and eventually you’ll be able to easily apply it to anything. But anything more complicated needs to be built from magical and physical pieces.” “I’ve seen you enchant things without components!” she countered, letting the light fade away. “No, you’ve seen me use enchantments from my staff. I still had to construct those ahead of time. What do you think I do all day? Just read books?” “Oh, right.” The staff thing. The method by which wizards stored so many and so powerful spells in their staves was a tightly guarded secret. As was the process used to build them to be veritable arcane sponges. Staves could absorb absurd magic into them; This somehow did not come into conflict with the spells. “What’s the honey for?” “Sticky.” “Of course!” the spell identity after all. It had to stick to the target. Honey. Duh. “The first step to enchanting is attaching the spell to the object. It’s not the same as casting a spell on an object. It’s more permanent. More intimate. You’re weaving the magic into the apple itself. We will start with that” “There’s more?” “Oh yes; if you can get the apple to glow I’ll be very impressed.” “Just... get it to glow?” “Well, glow until the apple rots. I’ll be able to tell if you did it correctly, we aren’t going to sit for days see wait for days to if it stops glowing before that” Sophia nodded and cracked her knuckles. Magic was complicated! But she was determined. - She was not nailing this at all. So far the trickiest part was the honey. Pulling the light identity out of the seeds was easy. But pulling the property of stickiness out of the honey was proving difficult. And it felt WEIRD. At first she thought she was doing it wrong when she started to feel sticky all over, like her sweat was made of tar, like her lungs were full of tar. The sensation was so awful it stopped her from progressing with the procedure. “How do you deal with this?” she gasped for breath as she released the magic. The apple stood on the stool un-molested. The weight of the non-existent tar sweat lingered. Yonah provided his hand for her to lean on. “I don’t. Not anymore. Once you understand the property you’ll able to avoid the side-effect of feeling it. And even replicate it without the component.” If he said so. She tried again, taking a deep breath. Maybe she should try to conjure stickiness before the light. Not having to hold onto the light spell while extracting the adhesion helped a lot. She still felt icky, but she could breath. That was an improvement. And as Yonah had said: she needed the seeds now that she was doing two things at once. She held it between her fingers and it fizzled as she spoke the spell, holding onto the honey’s essence. “That’s it! Now, figure out how each fit together, and NO-!” She slammed her hands together. BANG! She would have been thrown back if Yonah hadn’t seized her hands in one of his to contain the explosion. Smoke trickled from between his fingers. “That’s a fine way to blow yourself up! Be delicate,” he warned, letting go of her hands, which were unharmed. “Feel the shape of the magic and put it together, it will fit. It always does.” “Again.” This time she didn’t move her hands, but her fingers. Exploring the magic. The horrible sticky feeling came back as she felt the “shape” of the honey’s magic. Almost there. Just. a nudge and a turn. “AH!” She dropped it. “Good! Again!” Knowing what to expect she concentrated but wasn’t as tense or jumpy. This time the magic felt like it wanted her to find the edges and curves, to even make them herself. “There you go!” Yonah’s voice sounded distant as her ears felt like they were filled with molasses. But she had done it. A weight lifted off her shoulders as the two spells linked and she could support them together rather than tugging at them individually. “Ok, use the sticky part to join it to the apple” he instructed. She moved her hands, but Yonah didn’t react this time. Until she pushed the spell to the apple. At which point he inserted his palm as a wall in between her at it. She heard a wet POP. Yonah flipped his hand around and showed her the splatter of apple. “Damn it! I thought I had it!” She sat down. She needed to catch her breath and her arms were shaking. “That was a really good first try!” he said, licking the apple bits from his hand before placing a new apple on the stool. In truth he was a little impressed at her ability to notice and manipulate the magic so quickly. Almost as quickly as he had. However he had his heritage on his side. Fire Witches innately generated, felt, and controlled magic. As a half-fire witch he generated a decent amount of magic, but awareness and manipulation came much easier to him than for humans. Not that it was actually easy. Maybe he was just a really good teacher. “First try? What have I been doing so far?” He smiled and picked the princess up to hold her at eye level. There was no harshness in his eyes and Sophia let her tension go into his warm hands.  He took a deep breath through his nose. The princess smelled strongly of honey.  “Learning how to feel magic. Anyone can learn to cast simple spells if they just concentrate hard enough and know the words, even without the components to make it easier. You have to expand your awareness and control of the world to do real magic.” “Expanding my awareness is exhausting. Can I take a break? No! Not there!” But she laughed as he brought her to his mouth and he mimed eating her. Partially ajar lips and a gentle tongue pressed into her middle and his nose rubbed against her face. “I feel sticky enough.” Yonah laughed too; his warm breath washing over her. -- After a quick rest (which involved fresh apple juice) Sophia was ready to give it another shot. Or two. Or twenty. Or fifty. Not every apple exploded. They melted, evaporated, turned to dust, dried up, became intangible and THEN exploded, and rotted before their very eyes. Sometimes they would glow for just a moment before the catastrophic failure. By apple 60 she had just enough energy for one more attempt. Steady. Steady. Fit the spells onto and into the apple. She released the spells and collapsed, shielding her face. Nothing happened. She tried to get up but her body wouldn’t cooperate. She could open her eyes and move her head. Yonah had his staff out and the apple in between his fingers. He smiled and placed the apple near her face. It wasn’t glowing, but it was very shiny and dappled with what looked like dew. “Hmmm… most of the light spell got lost in the application. But,” he said, “this is farther than I thought you would get! The spell is sticking, for now. It will fall off in about 12 hours.” “A very good attempt!” he concluded. Sophia grunted in triumph. And then grunted in frustration as she felt Yonah apply a dab of gold-stained-glass slurry to her forehead. “So not good enough to avoid being eaten?” She held onto his finger. “Nope,” he poked her gently, “But one last thing,” he took his finger back, “Activate your enchantment.” Sophia sat up and scrunched up her face. She had done this before. It was easy. A little magic; A short rhyme. Focus. She spoke the words and the glass on her head fizzled away. “Fuck!” She fell back again. Yonah’s face loomed over her. “Too drained?” he scooped her up. He wasn’t angry, but he wasn’t pleased. She held his fingers and nodded. He used his thumb to lift her face. “Before I eat you I want you to promise to never let that happen again. Always make sure you have enough magic to cast it; it could mean the difference between life and death.” “I- I never thought of that.” He was scared for her! She realized as her breath precipitated on is glasses. His big brown eyes were full of concern. It was true. Yonah wasn’t always around to protect her, especially when she ventured farther away from his tower than he could. And he wouldn’t be in charge of her well being forever. It had not occurred to her that being able to turn oneself into nearly indestructible glass could benefit her in situations other than being eaten by a grumpy wizard. Then he licked her bodily and she sputtered back to reality. She flicked some of his own spit at his face, peppering his spectacles as his eyes glinted playfully. “You know what you taste like?” he said, licking his lips and pulling off her shoes socks, tucking them into his hat. Even if her clothing turned to glass along with her, she preferred to be barefoot. “I’ve told you before I don’t want to know.” she warned. “Honey,” he licked her again and held one of her arms between his teeth, massaging her gently “and apples.” Ah. Not really surprising since she spent hours familiarizing herself in the “essence” of the honey and after that first apple Yonah stopped shielding her from debris. He let go of her arm and held his mouth open, tongue over his teeth. Sophia rolled her eyes and reached in, stroking his tongue. She couldn’t fit in his mouth entirely, her waist pressed against his bottom teeth, partly shielded by his tongue when he moved underneath her like a living waterbed.  Staring down the throat of a half-giant shouldn’t be this pleasant and calming. She was covered in drool and surrounded by teeth! She was literally resting between his jaws, at any moment he could bite her in half! She wasn’t even glass yet, he was just tasting her. There was nothing to fear. This was a friendly mouth. He was her best friend as well as her mentor. She was safe. Eventually he moved his hand and she slid out. He re-applied the slurry and whispered the spell. With a mighty *POOF* of sparkling purple dust the Princess Sophia was turned into a living statue of glass. Yonah held her up by her shirt and she flopped around, her limbs clinking together like the strangest wind-chime. He opened his mouth wide and lowered her in. The smooth glass of her skin and clothing sliding across his tongue. He let go when she was held stable between his teeth. She leaned forward and kissed the bridge of his nose, laughing as he blushed and went cross eyed to look at her. Before he tipped his head back, took a deep breath, and swallowed. Her legs and hips were pulled into his throat. Her chest pulled into his mouth. She twisted around so she could look out and he gagged slightly as she pulled at his front teeth, yanking her lower half slightly out of his throat, just enough to lean over his teeth. Chuckles vibrated all around her. A finger pressed into her face and very softly shoving her waist back into his esophagus so that she rested on his tongue again. She wrapped her arms around his tongue giving it a tight squeeze. Then he swallowed again, smoothly pulling her away. Her hands were the last thing to disappear into his gullet. Yonah held a hand to his throat as it stretched to welcome the Princess before she slipped down past his collar. She wasn’t struggling this time, he noted, the pressure moving by his heart with another swallow. Must be pretty exhausted. Or peeved at him. No. Exhausted: otherwise she wouldn’t have kissed him. Soon enough she reached his stomach, filling it up wonderfully. He felt her stretch out and he prodded at what he figured was her hand. “All good?” “All good.” He got up and meandered downstairs, still holding a hand to his chest. The weight of the glass princess bounced softly as he descended the stairs. An odd but not off-putting sensation. Sophia liked going downstairs; it made Yonah’s stomach swing a bit. Like a hammock. Made of flesh. Pity she was too tired to cast the light spell. The darkness was so total. But she was surrounded on all sides by her friend. The walls were soft, squishy, and pleasantly warm. She ran her hands across the folds, pressing her fingers in like she was playing the piano. Eventually the swinging stopped and the walls squished around her even more. Yonah sat down in his armchair and pressed his hand against the hard lump in that rested inside him. The princess jovially protested by pushing back. He drummed his fingers and Sophia giggled. It was during moments like when he couldn’t believe that he had once been against Sophia coming to live with him; that he had tried his best to get her to leave. Of course at the time he didn’t realize that having a student was just what he needed. That his student would become his best friend. And he never would have dreamed he could successfully pull off the feat of enchanting a person so he could eat them safely and regularly. He couldn’t have predicted that she would not just tolerate it but like it. Request it! Sure she wasn’t always thrilled but sometimes she asked to be eaten! And ever since his friends found out about Sophia they were working on some spell or charm to replicate the protection her curse provided but on a less permanent scale. Things were going to be really weird if they pulled it off. He hoped they did. He desperately wanted to eat them. Four hours with someone who was almost as happy as he was was so different than a few minutes with a terrified thief. Sure their terror was fun. Sure it was exciting. But it wasn’t as intimate, it wasn’t as personal. Thieves didn’t stroke his insides tenderly, or enjoy his antagonizing. He didn’t want them to, but it was such a contrast. After a few minutes of just appreciating Sophia’s presence he poked at her. “Would you like me to read while you in there?” The princess moved sharply, finding a new position. “Huh, wha? Read?” “Oh... were you sleeping?” oops. “Almost, but. Hm...” stalling for time she continued to adjust her position. She was tired and kinda wanted to return to her nap. Then again… the latest issue of The Adventure Zone had just been delivered. The walls rolled over her as she felt him reach for it on the coffee table. The magazine came out twice a month, with five stories in each issue for a total of ten stories that updated monthly. Sometimes there were bonus one-off stories that, if they were popular enough, would replace a story once one ended. The great thing about this magazine was it came in all sizes, including “oger” size which was about the right size for Yonah. A little smaller than perfect, but with large font (Ogers have bad eyesight and can’t wear glasses. They always break them), so it balanced out. “What stories are in this issue?” she asked. “Let’s see.” Yonah opened to the table of contents. “Integrated!” Oh. Integrated was great! Set in the far future and in space, Integrated followed the adventures of a pair of secret agents! One a space alien, Leto, the other an Elf, Paetric. They took on crazy villains as they balanced work life and personal life. Paetric has a wife and family, but Leto’s life is their work. The elf took every opportunity to improve their work partner’s social life. The problem was the alien didn’t think very highly of earth’s races. To them they were lesser life forms. This made their partnership contentious. Of course, 30 chapters in, Leto’s bad attitude and opinions had improved significantly. They were hot on the trail of an evil scientist named Morris who, under the guise of setting up weather monitoring equipment, had planted Terraforming Devices on several colonized planets. His intent; activate them all at once and hold the populations for ransom. Would Leto and Paetric save the day? “Artie the Artificer” That one was ok Artie was an artificer who, by combining clockwork and magic, had built a time machine. It malfunctioned the first time he used and sent rips through spacetime. Now he had to fix all of the holes, patch all of the mistakes. It lost the plot a while ago, but each new chapter was fun if taken as its own story unconnected to the bigger picture. “Balance” Now this one was interesting. It was new and off to a rocky start. The main characters were three idiots and so far are they had done was explore some dungeon for gold and glory. It’s high quality and quantity of comedy was the only reason they kept reading after chapter 1. But recently it had picked up. Secret moon bases and agencies that protected the realm with crazy magic and technology! “Elementary” Elementary was about a squad of four investigators each a different elemental. Both she and Yonah followed that story religiously. Even before they lived together. After initially hating having to work together, Water and Fire were slowly falling in Love! Could such opposing elements make it work? Meanwhile, fairies all over town are going missing, yet at the same time the flow of black market fairy dust was slowing down. The Elementals were on The Case! Last chapter Fire has been reckless and acted without thinking. Civilians got injured. Would Fire remain on the team? Could they solve the case before the Fey Court Gangs took matters into their own hands and started a Fairy War? Sophia had to know. Yonah did too. “Do you even have to ask?” She said, kicking out and then snuggling deep into the softly pulsing folds of muscle. Laughter rang around her and the stomach tensed and squished in time. It was no use trying to steady herself as the chamber bounced her up and down. Sophia loved Yonah’s laugh; it was much higher than one would expect, his deep laughs he reserved for “evil” purposes, but it was still powerful.  Even after the laughter subsided the walls continued to gently roll down her body in a regular motion. Trying and failing to soften her up. She was sitting in a pool of fluids that would be very dangerous if she was not currently made of glass. But she was glass, and therefore there was no danger. Instead of threatening it was relaxing. She didn’t even need to breath in her current state but her body continued to inhale and exhale, filling her with warm air. It was the perfect end to a nearly perfect day. Was there anything be better than gardening, learning magic, and finishing it all up with hanging out inside of your best friend who was a half-giant wizard? No! Certainly not! Yonah’s voice rumbled like thunder made of cotton around her; powerful and soft. She let the muscles push her around as he started to read.

[FIN]

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! Or message me telling me what you think! I crave feedback! For more mystic woods go to vore-scientist(.)tumblr(.)com(/)tagged(/)+mystic+woods+story but remove the () or search ‘mystic woods story’] 

[louare-writings]

Around mid-morning, Blumiere went to his workshop and sat down before his recent work in progress, staring at the wood grooves as he hefted his gouging tool in one hand. The tavern keeper wanted a statue as an attraction, and he knew he should work at it- Bruno would be stopping by any day now to pester him about it.

However his hands, always willing to begin carving into the supple wood, didn’t move. For once, Blumiere couldn’t even think about carving. All he could think about was her.

If the heavens had a face, it would be hers. He had come across her only by chance, hiking towards the mountains to fetch some pine wood for a new project. Her scream had echoed through the woods, shrill and terrified. Blumiere hadn’t even seen her fall, but had known exactly where it had come from, that crumbling cliff side by the river.

To think, he pondered, running his hands over the fissures in the wood, he had thought it was one of the children, venturing where they shouldn’t. To mistake a royal Lady like her for a child-

With a sigh, he dropped his tool, bending over to rest his elbows on his knees. Why glorify her, he thought, perhaps she was beautiful and fierce and frightening, but it wasn’t like he was ever going to see her again. 

He stood up, brushed off his trousers, and with a last glance at the unfinished statue, blew out the lantern.

Outside, the clouds swirled overhead, dark and promising of rain. Blumiere locked the workshop door and walked slowly across the yard, deep in thought.

Lady Timpani Bleck. He knew her title ranked her as a noblewoman, but she was only about as old as he. He wondered what it was like for her, to wake up in his home; it was surely pitiful, compared to her usual lodgings.

He stopped on the stone path leading up to the back door, looking around at the garden and house. He built the cottage board by board, brick by brick. He had to commute between his fathers’ house until the roof was built, and then it was a few sleepless nights before he managed to have enough walls up to keep away the wind and the animals.

They tried so hard to help him, Blumiere thought, smiling as he took a few absent steps down the walk. But it was his work, his home, and perhaps it didn’t seem like much in the Lady’s eyes, but he wouldn’t wish to live anywhere else.

The rain began just as he closed the back door behind him. Blumiere hung the workshop keys on their nail by the door, then went to the window to watch it pour. Bruno wouldn’t stop by today he thought, and then he walked down the hall, intending to fix himself some lunch.

His traitorous feet, however, slowed to a halt as he passed in front of the guest bedroom door. It was cracked open. He hadn’t been inside since the day before.

He laid a rough hand on the smooth wood, and pushed. The door swung open, and revealed the warm room, the curtains undrawn, and the bed unmade. A picture was hanging crooked on the wall, and he  straightened it with one hand as he stepped further into the room, running his eyes over the mess.

With a sigh, he shut the curtains and turned to the bedspread. The top blanket was fine, but the bottom sheet was stained with dark blood splatters.

Hers, he thought, and yanked off the top blanket. As he did, something fell out and hit the floor with a metallic cling, bouncing a few times and then rolling under the bed.  

With a groan Blumiere got down on the floor and reached under the bed. After a moment, he pulled something out: a hair clip, in the shape of a butterfly. It was silver, with blue gems embedded on each wing. He rolled it around his palm, examining the wings. They were engraved with intricate decorative spirals, but one of the jewels was missing, leaving the design uneven.

After a moment, Blumiere tucked the clip in his pocket, and then set about taking off the sheets and soaking the stains.

 ---- 

Midafternoon, the rain stopped, and Blumiere sat in a kitchen chair, scratching away absently at a piece of scrap wood. There was a small scattering of wood shavings under his chair.

As water dripped off the shingles, Blumiere set aside the small carving and opened one of the windows, letting in the cool breeze brought by the storm. There would be more rain soon. He could tell by the clouds lingering above. With a sigh, the carpenter sat back at the kitchen table, and picked up the wood carving. He hadn’t had anything in mind, but there was the balloon curve of a gown emerging, and the familiar grooves of hair.  He leaned back in the chair, stroking the piece with his thumb, thinking.  

Then slowly, a picture of her in his mind, he began to carve.

Only minutes later, he was disturbed by a knock at the door. His fingers paused as he took in the noise, realized what it was, then intend to ignore it- but then the knocking came again, louder and harder. Blumiere sighed and set down his tools, and after brushing away wood shavings on his shirt, went to go answer it.

Couldn’t be Bruno, he thought, then re-evaluated; it was most definitely Bruno, always impatient, always hounding him for a commission. Of course Bruno would brave the rain to come bother him.

Blumiere was already sighing and scowling when he swung open the door. “Bruno, I…”

He stopped, unable to speak, because fear had caught his tongue and eaten it.

A member of the Tribe of Darkness was at his door.

Just from a glance, Blumiere knew the tribe member was powerful- it hung in the air around him like a shroud of mist before the storm. His clothes were spotless, and a mantle of silk hung from his shoulders, and a blue-jeweled cane rested in a white gloved hand.

“Let me in,” the Lord- for he could be nothing less than nobility-said, a sting of barely contained malice in his words.

Blumiere stepped aside. The Lord swept into his house.

With trembling legs he closed the door, then turned around to lean against it, watching the lord stride further into the living room. There was a look of disgust on his face as he examined it, muttering under his breath.

A tribe member, in his house, Blumiere thought. This was about her, Lady Timpani. It had to be. Something went wrong, she told them a lie or she didn’t make it-

His heart almost stopped when the tribe member turned to him. “Human. Come here.” The lord beckoned. Blumiere forced his cold limbs into movement, straightening and stumbling onto the couch as the lord pointed to it.

“There is something we need to discuss.” The lord said.

“Lady Timpani,” Blumiere spilled out. “Is she okay? Is she…” He fell silent as the lord tapped his cane against the floor.

“Yes,” The Lord said. “My daughter.”

Blumiere folded over a bit, clasping his trembling hands together.  

“I understand you recently came into contact with her,” The Lord said. “My name in Lord Auberon of the Bleck clan, and I am very interested in this… contact.” Lord Auberon’s eyes flitted across the room, disgust curling his lips. “She maintains that you assisted her in recovering from a fall, allowing her to return to the castle safely.”

Blumiere nodded. “She was at the cliff base, and I…” He fell silent as the lord’s gaze returned to him.

“That is what she maintains.” He repeated. “You assisted her, and did not alert any others to her presence. Is that true?”

Blumiere nodded, and felt a bolt of fear run through him as a smile twisted the Lord’s thin lips.

“Perhaps my daughter is foolish enough to trust one like you, but I have never relied on a human’s word, and I never will,” Lord Auberon murmured.

Something began to cut through the air, something like the very manifestation of power, so thick and so angry Blumiere felt it as it caressed his skin.

“She trusts you enough to beg for your life, human.” Lord Auberon said, looming above, eyes filled with fire and still smiling. “I’m afraid I am weak to her. If it were not for her pleas, human, I would be here not to talk, but to raze your pitiful abode to the ground and let your blood stain the ashes.”

Blumiere’s eyes were very wide.

“Human,” Lord Auberon said. “If you ever come near my daughter again, I will do these things without a thought, no matter how she begs.”

His tone was a promise, and his eyes told it as one he would keep.

“You will not be allowed a quick death. You may scream and cry and pray, but will suffer to the very last breath that squeezes itself from your heaving lungs. This, I promise you, human.”

The thickness in the room squeezed him then, like a hand around his throat.

“Do you understand?”

He couldn’t speak, for the grip around his neck, but he managed a nod, tears welling in his eyes.

“Wonderful.”

The pressure eased and Blumiere bent over, gasping for air.

“I hope we do not see each other again,” Lord Auberon said, and then he swept out, slamming the door behind him.  

Blumiere stayed with his head between his knees for a long time, rubbing at the aching in his throat and shivering with the aftershocks of the lord’s presence. It was dark out, when he finally straightened. All he could do was stumble toward the bedroom, and begin to ready for bed.

When he looked at himself in the mirror later, there were bruises in the shape of hands around his throat.

[dragongoesmoo]

The Blacksmith’s Son

So this was inspired by @reioka​ and her Regency AU (I hope it’s alright to tag you I don’t know Tumblr etiquette yet) and is on AO3 as well.

Tony crouched further behind the old armours in his father’s workshop, heart threatening to beat out of his chest as soldiers ran past the door. Jarvis chittered nervously behind him, his slender tail wrapping itself around Tony’s leg. His father had pushed them both into the dusty, shadowy corner when alarm bells rang through the castle. Two of the King’s personal guards had dragged his father away kicking and screaming. He wasn’t surprised that the castle was being attack now. He had known for weeks that King Stane was losing the war and had been dreading the inevitable attack.

The sounds of battle raged beyond the door and Tony swept his hand along the floor for something to use as a weapon.

“Here.” Jarvis whispered as he dropped something in Tony’s lap. Glancing down, his eyes fell on a small but razor-sharp dagger and he clutched it in sweaty hands, knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

“Thank you.” Jarvis nodded and curled himself back around Tony’s legs. They stayed like that, hidden and afraid, for hours. He prayed that his father was safe but knew that he was probably dead. His father was no fighter, sure he could build amazing weapons, but he could never wield them. He hated hurting people and if hadn’t been for Stane he would have ever made anything that could harm others. As a slave his father would be the first to face the attackers, as Stane took the actual soldiers and ran, and most likely the first to die. He felt Jarvis’ tail tighten its hold, blue scales scraping across his thin pants, pulling him back to reality. There would be time to mourn later, he had to survive this first. Nodding to himself, Tony glared at the only entrance to the workshop and hoped that he would live to see tomorrow.

(There should be a read more here)

He didn’t know exactly how much time had passed when the sounds of fighting faded into deathly silence but knew that it had been many hours, the small workshop now engulfed in shadow. Straining his hearing, Tony listened for any signs of people before beginning to rise from the floor, Jarvis releasing his hold and scampering toward the door. He stopped halfway between a crouch and standing when he heard voices coming toward him. Jarvis swung around and ran back toward him. They managed to curl themselves back into their hiding place just as the flimsy wooden door swung open. The light from a lantern flickered across the dirt floor and glinted against the weapons and armour stacked around the shop.

“Found the forge.” The man holding the lantern yelled as he stepped further into the room. it was too dark and the lantern held too far away from him to really see the man in any detail except that he was tall and strong but Tony did catch a glimpse of the insignia painted onto the man’s gauntlet and froze, not even breathing. That was not king Stane’s symbol.

The glove bore the symbol of a shield, rings of red and white leading to a white star nestled in the middle. Tony’s already weak heart lurched into his throat.

That was the Carter’s crest.

“Is there anyone in here, anything salvageable?” Another man entered the shop. He was tall and broad with fair hair, though any details were fuzzy as the man stood away from the light. The lantern holder swept the light across the room before replying.

“No. maybe we should leave.” Tony closed his eyes in relief, he was convinced that the light would have caught on his metal collar or Jarvis’ scales. He heard one of the men move toward the door and felt his body release tension he didn’t know it had before someone grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled. Tony’s eyes snapped open and he swung his dagger wildly at his assailant.

“Fuck!” The fair-haired man yelped as Tony dragged his blade across his cheek. The dagger was yanked from his grip by another set of hands and his arms were pinned to his side before he was dropped and crashed to the ground in a heap.

“Shit!” Tony heard as he stumbled to his feet. If he hadn’t have been so scared, the sight before him would have been funny. The two soldiers were cowering in the middle of the room, arms swinging above their heads wildly, as Jarvis clawed at their faces. He swooped and dived, his deep blue scales making him almost invisible. Smoke curled from his nostrils as he attacked the two men.

“Jarvis!” Tony called as he bolted from the workshop, trusting his friend to follow. He didn’t know where he was going but he knew that he had to get away. He was almost across the courtyard when he heard the men from before.

“Tony!” Tony skidded to a stop, chest heaving as he spun to face the men.

“How do you know my name?!” He screamed as the men advanced and Jarvis circled overhead. The fair-haired man raised his hands and eyed the dark smudge circling in the sky as he strode forward.

“Your father told us. He told us to find you and keep you safe.” His father? But they were Carter’s knights. How did they know his father? He felt tremors rattle through him as he stood there.

“H-he didn’t know you. How…”

“He knew Peggy.” Queen Peggy? His father was a slave owned by Stane, how would he know the Queen?

“You’re lying!” he screamed, taking a step back. He couldn’t breathe. His hands shook violently as he clutched at his chest willing it to let some air into his lungs.

“He’s not. I swear it. Your father knew the queen. He’s the whole reason she started this bloody war.” Tony shook his head, everything was wrong and nothing made sense and he still couldn’t breathe. Something landed on his shoulder and he flinched. The thing just dug claws into his flesh, never breaking the skin but deep enough to hurt slightly.

“Sir. You must breathe.” Jarvis. It was Jarvis on his shoulder and near his ear. Jarvis would help, he always knew what to do.

“I am flattered Sir. But you must breathe.” What? Yeah, right. Breathe he could do that. Tony huffed and panted as Jarvis growled at something.

“Slower. Take deeper breathes.” Tony felt Jarvis’ chest expand and contract between his shoulder blades and eventually managed to match the slow breaths with his own.

“Very good Sir. Now if you…” Tony nodded and let Jarvis’ words wash over him as he calmed his beating heart. He was confused and scared and exhausted, but he would be fine because Jarvis was there. Suddenly, he was lifted and his head lolled toward a broad metal thing. It occasionally rumbled and there was a constant, rhythmic thumping emanating from it that soothed him into a deep dreamless slumber.

Tony awoke to sunlight streaming across his face and birds chirping in the rafters. He could hear the exact moment that Jarvis decided to terrorise the poor bird family and quietly chuckled to himself. He wondered about what he would be tasked with doing today. He had some great ideas for a water irrigation system and couldn’t wait to show his father.

Oh.

The events of the previous day came flooding back and he bolted upright with a gasp and a strangled sob. Jarvis was at his side in moments, curling close and purring as well as a dragon could. His eyes burned and his vision blurred as he stroked his friend’s back and surveyed the room he was in. He was on a soft but small bed near the door of the tiny room and apart from it and a narrow window the room was bare. Sighing, he nudged Jarvis and shimmied out of bed and toward the door, laughing quietly to himself when he found his lockpick still tied to the inside of his shirt.

In less than a minute, Tony was out of the room and in a large stone hallway. There were no guards stationed at his door, why would there be for a slave, and blood coated the walls and floor. He was still in Stane’s castle then. That was good, Tony knew every single secret passage and every hiding place in the palace. He crept along the wall with Jarvis perched on his shoulder toward a painting that housed a tunnel to the gardens beyond the castle walls when someone cleared their throat behind him.

“Where are you off to?” It was the man with the lantern from the night before. Tony spun on his heels as Jarvis tensed and faced the man. He was gorgeous. His dark hair was tied back in careful braids and his storm grey eyes pierced Tony’s soul with their intensity. Still he was the enemy and couldn’t be trusted.

“Stay back!” Tony hissed as he shuffled further away from the man. The man himself just raised his hands in surrender and stepped forward.

“’m not gonna hurt you.” Tony scoffed and glanced desperately around the hall for anything he could use as a weapon. Suddenly he felt Jarvis leap from his shoulder and a girlish scream filled the air. The man in front of him wasn’t looking at Tony anymore, he was staring at something behind him with ill-concealed mirth.

Slowly Tony turned and burst out laughing. The fair-haired man from workshop was running in circles trying to swat at Jarvis, who was swooping and nipping at the man. Tony nearly fell to the floor, tears streaming down his face, when Jarvis managed to take a chunk out of the soldier’s ass.

“Agh! Holy shit! He bit me!” he squawked as Jarvis flew back over to Tony, landing once again on his shoulder.

“Maybe you shouldn’t try to grab people from behind and without their consent then.” Jarvis huffed. The darker haired man chuckled as he strode over to check on his friend

“This isn’t funny, Buck.”

“It is a little Stevie.” The blond, Stevie, rolled his eyes at Buck as the colour drained from Tony’s face. He had heard of the knights Steve and Bucky from the Carter’s kingdom, everyone had. They were fearsome warriors and brilliant strategists and won nearly every battle they fought. If that was who had him then he was well and truly fucked. They could do anything to him and he would be powerless to stop it.

“Hey are you okay?” Steve asked and took a step toward him.

“Don’t touch me!” Tony shrieked as he stumbled back, hitting his back against the wall. his vision was fuzzy as he tried to glare at the two knights, inky blackness creeping in along the edges. Dizzy and lightheaded, Tony slid down the wall as the knights looked on. He knew what the nobility did to slaves they ‘liked’ he had first-hand experience and now they had him and he was going to be used like that again and-and…

“Sir. Calm yourself. These men will not harm you.” Jarvis was at his side again, warm breath tickling his ear as he spoke. How could Jarvis think that though, that he wasn’t going to be hurt. Shaking his head, he curled into a ball and buried his face in his knees. he shivered so hard that he was sure that he was going to come apart. His lungs ached with the need for something that Tony couldn’t give them.

“Step aside! Oh Tony.” That voice. It was familiar, but everyone died didn’t they. That’s what Stane said would happen if they lost so that couldn’t possibly be who he thought it was.

“Pepper?” he gasped, trying to focus on her. She sunk a slender hand into his hair and stroked it, pulling his head to rest on her chest with the other.

“I th-thought you were dead.” He whispered when he could finally breathe again. he heard two sighs from somewhere off in the distance but didn’t care enough to find out who was there. Pepper was there and so was Jarvis so Tony was safe. At least for now.

“Not dead.” Pepper crooned as she stroked his hair they sat in silence for awhile, the sound of Tony’s hiccuped sobs echoing through the stillness of the hall.

“Jarvis was right, Tony. These men won’t hurt you. They were sent with instruction to rescue Howard and any family he may have had.” Pepper all but whispered eventually tightening her already tight hold on him.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She smiled as she helped him off the floor and it was only then that he noticed the two knights sitting on the floor of the hall. He swallowed the around the lump in his throat and smiled at them. He was pretty sure that the smile came out watery and small but that didn’t stop Steve from lighting up with the biggest grin Tony had ever seen on a person. Bucky just smirked as he rose from the floor.

 “Like I said we aint gonna hurt ya.” His voice was thick with an accent Tony couldn’t place but was soft and soothing. Instead of coming closer they both glanced between Jarvis and Pepper and swallowed audibly before leaving down the hall. Tony got the impression that he missed something.

 “Tony. There’s something I need to tell you.” Pepper muttered uncharacteristically quiet as she led him down the hall in the direction of the two knights.

 “Whatever it is can’t be worse than anything I’ve already heard today.”

 “You are going to be travelling back to the Queen’s kingdom with them.” Tony froze, he couldn’t go with them not when he had just found Pepper and he still didn’t trust these two knights.

 “Don’t get upset though. They said you can take whoever you want with you and Rhodey and I will hunt you down if you leave without us.” Tony managed to drag in a relieved breath as he forced his feet to move. At least now he knew that one, he wouldn’t be alone with people he didn’t trust and two that Rhodey was still alive.

 “Do not forget me Sir.” Jarvis cooed from Tony’s shoulder as they passed through the heavy front doors of the castle. Tony chuckled wetly at the sight of Rhodey, a mere foot soldier, yelling at two anointed knights. They seemed properly terrified by whatever he was saying though so Tony was happy. He ran and leapt onto his friend, clinging onto him like he would disappear if Tony were to let go.

 “Honey-bear, you’re okay.” He mumbled into his friend’s collar.

 “Yeah. I’m fine. You’re gonna be riding with me so come on.” Rhodey turned his back on the two stunned and cowed men in front of him and strode to a beautiful black and white paint horse. It was stockier than most other horses Tony had seen and had a long pale mane and long fur around it’s hooves.

 “Say hello to Friday.” Rhodey grunted as he lifted Tony onto the horse.

 “Hello Friday.” Tony muttered down to the mare as Rhodey pulled himself up and gently urged her forward. They stopped next to Pepper, who sat atop her own lithe chestnut horse talking to Steve and Bucky. They both had huge horses that had the same long fur at their hooves as Friday and where white and black respectively.

 “Are we ready to leave?” Rhodey asked, causing both knights to jump and swivel to see him.

 “Yeah. Yep. Super ready…let’s just…go.” Steve spun to face the front of his horse as Bucky and Pepper giggled. They moved off after that trotting away from the only place Tony ever remembered living, not that it was much of a life.

 On the edge of the town surrounding Stane’s castle, Tony craned his neck back to watch as the only home he’s ever know was blotted out by the forest that he was being slowly taken into.