#pawprints and the trail of something being... dragged?

[wingsyliveblogs]

Well, that seems bad! The unknown cause of this mysterious attack is going to become a problem sooner or later, isn’t it..?

Still, it’s interesting to see the uniform of another school, even if it’s in such a concerning context. I hope those guys are okay!

We have birds as phones, scrolls as social media, and now orbs as television... the Boiling Isles can do it all!

I wonder what the “BBN” stands for. Bonesborough Broadcasting Network, maybe? 

I had a feeling that this was how he was going to react, but it doesn’t make it any less funny.

I love how petty Principal Bump is sometimes. 

[honeymoonjin]

10k for 10k drabble

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 yoongi x reader || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 1k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 fluff, sfw

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 after a busy harvest season, you and yoongi spend a quiet evening in front of a bonfire, enjoying each other’s company. 

PART OF THE 10K FOR 10K MILESTONE CELEBRATION

Please read the original first if you haven’t already.

“Can you pass me the paper towe- stop laughing at me,” Yoongi protests softly, holding his hands away from him, melted chocolate running between his fingers, dripping onto the grass. Still in one hand he holds the blasted remains of a failed smore, the bulging marshmallow threatening to fall out.

You manage to reign in your peals of laughter enough to chuck him the requested roll of paper towels, and he begins cleaning himself up with a pout.

His focus gives you time to run your eyes over him. After an extremely hectic harvest, he’d grown behind in bleaching his hair to his usual honey blonde, the deep brown peeking at his roots. His cheeks are bright red from the heat of the bonfire, more so now that he’s flustered. Yoongi, as almost always this time of night, is dressed in his matching cotton pajamas. A stray trail of chocolate runs down his wrist and threatens to stain the white and daffodil yellow-striped cuffs.

You lean over, dragging your finger back up the path on his skin to intercept it, the molten chocolate now pooled on your fingertip. Unthinking, you put your finger in your mouth and suck it off, humming at the burst of warm sweetness.

Yoongi sends you an endeared gaze once he tosses the dirtied paper towels into the flames of the fire. “Good catch,” his honeyed voice regards with a twitch of his lips. “or were you just waiting to steal my smore from under me?”

Your grin broadens. “Never,” you deny unabashedly, “it was a crime of opportunity.”

He sends you a wary wag of his eyebrow, before turning back to the shattered fragments of biscuit and marshmallow in his grasp. “This is mine,” he insists softly, pausing to nibble at the edge of it, “you can make your own.”

Pouting, you shift even closer and tuck your arm under his, making him grumble weakly. “But what’s mine is yours, baby. Don’t you remember our vows?”

He quickly manages to mask his grin, but you catch it. “I don’t recall you ever mentioning desserts.”

“It’s implied,” you defend astutely. Basking in the heat radiating off the fire, and the warmth from being curled into Yoongi’s side, you let your head rest onto his shoulder.

Yoongi accommodates for you without word, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head fondly. “We signed a pre-nup, darling.”

You harrumph in protest, but don’t leave your spot cuddled beside him. “Only because Namjoon talked us into it.”

“Almost two years ago,” Yoongi muses, his voice soothing you even as he teases gently. “Who would’ve known he had my smores’ best interests in mind? That kid truly is a genius.”

Too content and calm to come up with another retort, you just hum once, letting the two of you fall into comfortable silence.

Yoongi finishes his smore with the hand that isn’t trapped in your grasp, in no rush as the fire crackles in front of the two of you.

Though he’d never admit it, you know Yoongi is exhausted. It’s become a tradition with the two of you; a bonfire to celebrate the end of a harvest. While most of your time together is spent laughing and joking and enjoying, tonight just being beside each other is enough.

“I think tomorrow I need to get started on some more ceramics,” Yoongi states once he’s eaten the last mouthful. “The little key dish one is selling really fast these days. You know; the one with Holly’s pawprint?”

You grin at the memory of the last batch of those you’d made. Namjoon had come down with Holly for a weekend, and Yoongi had the idea of getting him to step on some pottery to see if he could immortalize the dog’s pawprint in a shallow dish. It had worked better than even Yoongi had really expected, and he spent hours getting Holly to step on discs of clay. The entire house was toasty from the ovens for days, and once he finally got around to glazing them, they became a new hit on your website.

“But Namjoon isn’t here ‘til Sunday,” you point out with a frown, sitting up to face him fully. “Besides, baby, I think you need to just take tomorrow off. Sleep in, laze around for a bit. You’ve earned it.”

He lets out a light sigh, like the thought pains him, but holds you in anticipation for a few moments while he considers. “Fine,” Yoongi finally allows, “but only if you laze around with me.”

Without hesitation, you beam. “Deal. I’ll make you breakfast in bed.”

Instead of replying, his mouth just opens soundlessly as his eyes search your face. Slowly, the edges of his lips quirk up, gaze sweet like honey. “I love you so much,” he confesses lowly, voice almost lost over the crackling of the fire, “I feel so happy when I’m with you.”

You fight the tingle in your nose as your eyes well. Over four years together, almost two of them married, and still every sweet word from your husband makes you melt. “I love you like crazy,” you reply with an enamored smile, “you make me so happy too.”

He flushes happily, leaning in to lay a single slow kiss on your forehead. You lean into it, eyes fluttering shut. The simplest touch, and you feel dizzy with it, so in love that it blooms in your chest brighter and lusher with every second spent with him.

Once he pulls away, you let your eyes open again slowly, watching the way the orange of the flames plays out on Yoongi’s cheek. He’s beautiful in this light; it never fails to take your breath away.

He raises his brows in question at your close inspection of him. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Maybe,” you answer cryptically, “let’s see.” Without another word, you lean forward and kiss him gently, feeling the way he smiles into it. “Mm, no, you’re all good,” you decide.

“So cheesy,” Yoongi quips, but he’s grinning. “If you’ll excuse me, I better check to make sure your face is clean too.”

Your responding laugh is muffled by his lips.

[undertalethingems]

Bark at the Moon, Chapter 1: Empty Spaces

<Previous / Next>

Or read on Ao3>

Rating, Setting: Gen, Pre-canon

Chapter Warnings: None

Chapter Summary: Sans notices something’s wrong.

Sans lounged against the counter, lazily trailing a finger through the condensation left by the glass of milk he’d ordered. It was the only beverage he ever ordered besides ketchup, a fact that amused the other patrons far more than it did he or Grillby himself; the long-time bartender wasn’t one to judge, something Sans appreciated about him. He looked up as his fiery friend placed another plate of fries before him and straightened, ready to dig in. As he reached for the ketchup, light caught his eye, and he couldn’t help glancing over as someone checked their phone and the time flickered by briefly.

Sans froze.

It was a full thirty minutes after when Papyrus always came in to interrupt his break. He lowered a brow and glanced over his shoulder to scan the restaurant and street outside, but there was no sign of someone who was always trying to be noticed. Sans shrugged off his unease and turned back to his meal slowly, and noticed Grillby giving him a look.

‘Is everything alright?’ he signed, his hands flickering as he chose to speak with them instead of his crackling, distorted voice. ‘Isn’t Papyrus usually here by now?’

The curse of being the most regular of regulars--Sans grumbled inwardly before replying. “yeah. maybe he finally realized keeping me out of here is never gonna work.”

The closest patrons chuckled, though Grillby didn’t seem amused.

‘I see. If you need anything else, let me know.’

“of course, pal. you know i always do.”

Sans would have happily stayed at Grillby’s all day—he preferred the bar’s lively atmosphere to being alone with his thoughts. Cheering other people up with his bad jokes and low-brow gags always made it worthwhile. But hours passed and the dog guard changed multiple times without a single remark on his brother. Grillby was giving him increasingly concerned looks, so Sans decided it was time to check on him. There was no way Papyrus could've gotten into too much trouble—they’d lived in Snowdin for years now, and there was no evidence the anomaly had become active again, so...

He left the restaurant with promises to return soon and headed out onto the road. His brother’s daily routine was always the same, so it was easy to guess what he might be up to. It was just after one, so by about this time it should be his fourth round of puzzle calibration. Sans didn’t know how Papyrus did it—he managed to be so thorough, so exacting, never once looking at something that hadn’t changed a bit since his last visit and thinking it didn’t need inspecting again. If it were up to him, well, he just didn’t have that kind of energy anymore. Even shuffling through the snow today was wearing him out. All that dedication... Man, Papyrus was really cool.

He crossed the randomized tile puzzle and had just set foot on the path beyond it when he paused. Slowly, he turned, eyes roving over the plastic squares and taking in every detail. There were thin traces of snow left on them in little arcs. Papyrus never let anything obscure his puzzles unless that was part of the puzzle. Someone had cleared this hastily and without much care--not Papyrus' style at all. Brows furrowed, Sans turned to study the trail ahead of him. The snow lay unbroken as far as he could see down the path.

Better do this the smart way. Sans took a step forward, and space-time snapped around him. His sentry station sat empty, just as he’d left it, the only footprints around it his own. Sans took another step, and walked into the next section. Still no footprints. He turned back, and entered a small clearing that until now had laid untouched. Wow, it looked like even the teenagers that messed around out here hadn’t gotten to it yet. Last night's snowstorm must've chased everyone indoors.

Sans made it back to the tile puzzle without seeing a single hint that anyone but him had traversed the forest beyond. Papyrus never left anything unfinished, especially not the favorite part of his day.... Maybe he'd gotten sick? It was unlikely, but... Sans was back home with a click, and found all the rooms empty. Okay, so he wasn’t home. Papyrus was his own person, he could change his habits if he wanted to… Maybe he’d gone to talk to Undyne again.

“Haven’t seen him at all,” Undyne replied when he’d caught up to her. She was practicing lunges at the edge of a waterfall, which looked both incredibly cool and extremely dangerous. “You mean to tell me neither of you have been at your stations all day?”

“guess not, but i can promise you this is weird for me too,” Sans answered dryly, “and i don’t make promises lightly. too much responsibility, y'know?”

Undyne drew back and faced him, planting one hand on her hip while the other still grasped her spear. “Well, I can’t divert the rest of the Snowdin unit to look for him if that’s what you want, but… I know! I’ll call him.”

She pulled out her phone and dialed, then listened to it ring once, twice… three times… four… and never pick up. She stared at the phone for a moment before hitting redial, and they listened to the tones chime again to arrive at the same result. Sans ignored the sense of dread starting to prickle in his soul.

“Your brother always picks up after two rings, right? He told me that, after he gave me his number. Why wouldn’t he answer?” Undyne uttered, her eye darting between the screen and him.

“dunno. same reason he didn’t finish his puzzle maintenance, same reason he didn’t come get me at grillby’s. he’s... busy.”

Undyne grunted. “Sure. Well, keep looking and let me know when you find him. He may not be a member of the Guard yet, but he’s still a citizen... and my friend, so… y’know?”

“i mean. he’s my brother, so. i do know,” Sans replied with a wink. “when i know, you’ll know, and then everyone’ll know, y’know?”

“Oh my GOD!” Undyne roared, hurling her spear into the depths of a distant garbage heap. “JUST GO FIND HIM ALREADY!!!”

Sans didn’t need any more permission than that—he’d planned on continuing his search regardless. He put up a lazy salute, then headed out. He surveyed Snowdin again, and asked his Hotland customers at the hot dog stand if they’d seen his brother as they commuted home. He was considering the logistics of milk carton-missing posters at his Waterfall station when Undyne marched up, her armor clanging its way into his thoughts.

“Any luck?” she asked wearily, and he shrugged.

“i won a game of cards against myself, does that count?”

She dragged a hand across her face. “No. You mean you found no evidence of him at all?"

"nope. guess i can only wait to see if something turns up."

"So you're just gonna give up on finding your brother then?”

Something twisted painfully in Sans’ chest. “... no. but if he hasn’t shown up by now i don’t see what else we can do. maybe he's planning an epic prank.”

Undyne's scowl twitched briefly into a smile. “… I guess. I mean, if nothing else, he’ll probably just come home tonight, right? Anyway, I actually came by to tell you to go home. Night shift’ll take it from here.”

“thanks. see ya bright and early tomorrow,” Sans said, rising from his seat and heading down the passage.

“Oh, and tell Papyrus to call me when he gets back! I have some words for him!” Undyne shouted, and he gave her a thumbs up before rounding the corner right into his living room.

Sans dozed off sometime that evening, and woke up disoriented to find he’d slept halfway through the next morning. So much for getting to work early, and... there was still no sign of his brother. He debated whether to slip back into sleep or to get up and look again, and languished on the couch for a while, waffling back and forth...

Sans shuffled through the snow, unease nestled firmly in his ribs as he passed other sentry stations and puzzles frosted by a new coat of snow. Pawprints indicated the other guards had been through on their rounds, and there were a few tracks he recognized from the various teenagers, but nothing that matched Papyrus' boots. He reached the randomized tile puzzle again, looked it over, and slowly sank down, legs folded under him. Reaching out, he took up some of the snow in his hand and sifted through it. It all seemed to pack like snow, and not dust.

Maybe Sans could have dealt with dust. At least he’d have an answer and could muddle through until a reset brought everything back, but the anomaly hadn’t been active lately so he couldn’t be sure how long he’d have to wait. He’d still have to check a couple other spots to be sure, but at least it seemed like Papyrus wasn’t dead. In either case he just had to wait, and he was pretty good at that.

He sifted through other locations on the puzzle deck but came up with snow every time, and with a weary sigh decided it was time to head to Grillby’s. He wasn’t sure what he’d tell the other regulars… surely news had spread by now, so there’d be talk. Maybe he'd tell them Papyrus was on vacation.

[halothenthehorns]

Hippogriff Attack (Not Buckbeak)

An Excerpt from my Marauders prequal; We Were-  Chapter 4: Reckless

"I hate you all," James groaned as he swatted yet another frozen branch from his face.

"Stop pouting James," Sirius laughed.

"You're only yelling because Evans didn't swoon at your Valentine," Remus agreed.

"Well why didn't she!" He demanded of a nearby grazing unicorn, who didn't even look up at their approach as it nuzzled through the patchy snow. "I worked really hard on that!"

"Oh, I'm sure she'll appreciate your efforts when she stops laughing," Peter snickered.

"Don't know what you have to be laughing at," Sirius suddenly told him, switching mates. "I'll bet Atria's going to dump your arse any day, spending such a beloved holiday out here with us."

"She's not into the whole thing, I keep telling you lot that," Peter rolled his eyes. "We prefer talking about mad things other places celebrate anyways. She wants to visit Peru some day, did you know they-"

"Hey Remus, come check this out!" James suddenly yelled, all three going over to investigate a track they'd never seen before.

Remus bent down and traced it curiously, the thing was massive, his hand barely fit into the pad, and the four toes each had little divot marks in front of them, they could only imagine the claws that went with this thing.

"Manticore, I'm sure of it," he said after a few moments. "Hasn't been long since it came through here either. I told you we found a den for one in this area last month."

"Well I don't recommend meeting it now," Sirius was more than happy to start off in a new direction. He'd only gone a dozen feet though when something came falling out of a tree, and all four yelled in fright imagining a man eating lion-headed monster pouncing.

It was only just slightly less dangerous, the baby hippogriff letting out its own startled wail.

The buckskin, horse half hide stamped its wobbly legs, the gorgeous wings flapping downy feathers all about, and the very sharp beak and talons flashed dangerously close to Sirius even as the foal tried backpedaling away, the baby feathers giving it no support as it tried to escape.

He fell to the ground and scrambled madly away, while Remus darted forward and bowed to get its attention. The infant slowed, instinct finally won out and it gave a half bow back, before it began chirping and looking up to the sky once more in distress.

"Poor thing must have fallen out of its nest," Remus crooned, his hands itching to stroke the soft feathers. "I've never seen one this young, must be less than a month old."

"Which means mama isn't too far off," Sirius uneasily reminded as he got to his feet and grabbed Remus' elbow. They barely made it back to the pawprint though when they turned in surprise at the squawk of protest, and saw they were being followed.

"No, no, little one," Remus turned to scold. "Your mother will get you back up there, now go," but as he waved his hand, it just shied even closer. The massive wings kept ruffling uneasily at the sides, a few more feathers even began shedding in its distress revealing the deep gold color beneath as well.

"Oh fine," he caved, reaching forward to start scratching at the beak. "If your mother eats me though, I blame you."

The babe leaned into the touch with a nuzzle, while Sirius shrugged and decided to duck down curiously if they were sticking around. "Got yourself a filly there Remus," he told him as he stood back up. "Don't ever say girls don't like you anymore."

He flipped him the bird, causing James to laugh. "Not in front of the baby!"

"She is adorable," Peter grinned, stepping cautiously closer now. "Starting to wish I'd taken Care of Magical Creatures."

"Oh Kettleburn would never get a chance to bring something like this to class," Remus corrected as she leaned half her weight against him now as he kept scratching, and she wasn't exactly light. "No, the full grown hippogriffs he showed us at the start of the term is as close as we'd get. They have to nurse from their mothers at least three times a day with supplements of whatever they bring back, mice, polecats, and the like, she should be old enough now she'll start trying to eat them live herself. Mum would never let us get close enough while that was going on. Maybe Hagrid comes around though, she's quite friendly-"

The baby suddenly squawked in protest, her wings flapping so hard in distress she knocked Remus to the ground. This only made her rear up in fear, something being so near her feet she couldn't even see. A deep, inhuman snarl knocked all three of them rolling as the manticore pounced down.

"Remus!" The shouting didn't drown out the suddenly louder shriek of fury, all he could do was curl up into a ball, instinctively covering his head and neck as claws and talons, beaks and fangs began flashing in and out of his sight in a furious battle.

"Confringo!"

The blasting hex startled both of the large beasts as a young tree exploded, and when it was shot again far too close, the manticore finally took off with a roar of fury.

James and Sirius tried to dodge forward and grab him, but the solid black hippogriff still reared in a furry at the threat while Remus bled beneath her feet.

Peter stuffed his wand away, all three forced their stiff backs into a bow, but she merely snapped her beak, forcing them all to go even farther back still bent over until they were nearly out of sight. Her eyesight was too good, she didn't let down her defense and refused to take her eyes off them even as she bowed back.

Finally she turned and snapped her beak at her baby instead, who was nuzzling and licking at the blood coming out of Remus' side. She didn't seem to like the taste much though as she finally turned away with her mother and the two cantered off out of sight.

They rushed to his side in the same moment, Peter pulling his wand back out at once in case the other one circled back while Sirius lifted his shaking hands away from the injury to let James better inspect the wound. At least it wasn't as bad as they'd feared, no intestines were spilling out and all his limbs were still attached, but they were deep, as bad as the ones he inflicted on himself, with the lovely added bonus of one of his legs being crushed.

James refused to let his wand tremble with nerves as he finally put into practice spells he'd learned for not exactly this occasion.

Remus struggled to open his eyes, his body just as sore as if he had gone through another full moon to see Sirius holding his hands and James doing something. His side flashed cold and then pleasantly warm, but the shock didn't really wear off until Peter shouted, "guys!"

"Right yeah, should be good," James said, and then he was on his feet and being dragged along while his head was still spinning, the copper tang of blood still in the air.

"What just happened?" He blearily demanded.

"Mama's not the one who tried to eat you," Sirius said like that explained everything.

"What?" he tried again, coming out of it enough to look down at himself. His clothes were red stained and torn, but that was it. Shouldn't he be leaving a trail of organs? "How?" He demanded, stumbling hard, but their hold only tightened as they finally found a trail they hadn't had to use in years to get back out of here.

"What, Madam Pomfrey shouldn't have to be the only nurse in school should she?" James asked innocently enough.

Remus' head was still spinning just a little too much to put together what they were saying, and by the time they got to the dorms and were laughing the whole thing off, Remus was just too exhausted from adrenaline burn to ask.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Unwanted Animal

One

A/N: Sooo this is my first Lambert x OC fic that I intend to have multiple parts of. The title came from The Amazing Devils’ song That Unwanted Animal which I will link here. It’s an incredible song. This is going to be a Lambert x fem!OC and unlike my other works this one is going to be relatively dark in some senses. Under the cut is a deeper explanation :) I want to give a huge HUGE thank you to @writingawaymylife because without them I wouldn’t have made this as good as it is and it probably wouldn’t even be out yet! Thank you again so so so much for helping me babe!!! You’re absolutely amazing <3 And just a reminder guys that I messed with my tags a while back so now you have to go to here to be tagged in any of my works.

Warnings: graphic depictions of death, descriptive crime scene, gory, murder, death, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of forced pregnancy, mentions of kidnapping

Word Count: 4.5k

Additional Note: There’s going to be mentions of sexual assault but very brief, nothing descriptive and I will always always tag it in the warnings. There’s also going to be relatively gory and bloody deaths, mentions forced pregnancy and kidnapping, and kidnapping. I will always always always tag all of this in the warnings. This story will never ever have descriptive parts of any sexual assault. That’s something I will not do. Even though I will mention it a handful of times through the entire story, I do not plan to go into any details but if that changes I will let you know by tagging it in the warnings. I just want everyone to know that you do not have to read this! Please do not read this if you know or feel that any of these matters could be triggering for you. I know content with Lambert is very light and we don’t have a lot of it but if you want to read Lambert works that aren’t dark like this one please go to my masterlist here or if you have a prompt or scenario you want to see, drop it in my ask box!! I’m always open to asks. Again please please please don’t read this if you do know this will trigger you in any sort of way. Your mental health is more important than me getting notes on this. It’s just fiction. Your mental health should not suffer at all because of it :)

***

[ Aachen, Temeria ]

“She killed him! She killed my husband!” 

Lambert ran his hand over his face, cursing the gods for putting him in this situation. 

Across from him sat a woman, now a widow, sobbing as she tried to get out the story of her husband’s death. 

The witcher hadn’t meant to stop in the small town of Aachen. He was only passing through when this widow offered a decent reward for whoever killed her husband’s murderer. 

She introduced herself as Haldana Dielke. She wore a dark blue dress with gold laces up the front of the dress. Around her neck was an expensive golden necklace with three sapphires dangling from the thick chain. A sapphire ring held in gold was on her left hand along with a few other rings. Her hair was long and gray at the roots but blonde towards the ends. A braid was intricately formed down the top of her head where her hair would part but this was only meant to keep her hair from getting into her face. 

“Look, lady. I don’t have all day.” He leaned forward in his chair, large hand clasping around the mug of ale on the table. “Either spit it out or I’ll be moving on.”

The widow sniffled and wiped her eyes with a cloth. 

Lambert very briefly glanced around the room, spotting a group of men looking in his direction. They weren’t the only ones practically staring at the witcher. He knew very well the patrons of the upper class establishment were whispering about him, about how he didn’t belong there. 

“Do you know who killed your husband?”

“Aye. It was that murderous whore Rosalia Larsen of Cidaris. She killed him.”

“Never heard of her.” Lambert put the mug down and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. 

“She’s slaughtered men from here to Vizima. Just last week, she butchered a pig farmer in front of his children. Can you believe that?”

“I’ve heard of worse.”

“They say that when she’s ready to kill again, a storm rumbles in the sky. They say it’s the gods trying to warn her next victim.”

“So she’s an assassin?”

“Hardly.” The woman scoffed. “She isn’t hired to kill anyone. Just does as she pleases. So? Are you gonna kill her or do I have to find someone else?”

“I’ll do it.” Lambert rose to his feet. Job seemed easy enough. He’d be out of town before the sun set and on his way to Redania. “It would help if I took a look at the place your husband was killed. See if I can find anything useful.”

“I’ll take you there.”

***

The murder took place at an inn just down the road from the tavern Lambert met the widow at. She refused to go into the room but pointed him in the direction and disappeared down the stairs, crying hysterically. 

Lambert was glad she left. All the crying she did was starting to get on his nerves. 

He pushed the door to the room open and stepped in.

The room was anything but nice and tidy. The blankets on the bed had been ripped off and a pillow was lying in one of the many pools of blood. Drawers to the dresser were pulled open, clothes ripped from them and thrown onto the floor. A pot of what used to be red geraniums was on the floor. The pot had shattered and it looked as though a chunk of the pot was used as a weapon. There was a piece on the floor covered in blood. Crimson splattered across a mirror in the room. That same mirror was splintered, pieces of flesh still clung to the shards of glass. 

“Poor bastard.” Lambert muttered, knowing it was the victim’s face that had been slammed into the mirror and then dragged across the broken pieces.

“That’s what I’ll say.”

The witcher looked over his shoulder to see a man standing in the doorway to the room. He was old and gray with a spectacle on his right eye. 

“Name’s Arne Halfdorn. I’m the coroner.”

“Town this small has a coroner?” 

“Oh, no. I work for this town and the surrounding ones. I was called here to inspect the death of Master Dielke.”

“What’s there to inspect? The guy was stabbed.” Lambert turned his attention to the blood on the floor. He knelt down, inspecting the boot print in the red liquid. It was small, too small to be a grown man’s but not small enough to be a child’s.

“That’s an understatement. I have yet to finish looking over the corpse, I wanted to take a further look at the crime scene. But from what I’ve seen, he was stabbed multiple times and endured quite a lot of trauma to multiple parts of his body. Bruising and swelling in his face suggests blunt force trauma.”

“He was used as a punching bag.” Lambert looked around the room, yellow eyes carefully scanning everything. “It was personal.”

“Has Madam Dielke hired you to track down the murderer?” 

“She has.” The witcher spotted a necklace underneath the edge of the bed. He stood up and moved to retrieve it. “What can you tell me about Rosalia Larsen of Cidaris?”

“Not much to be quite honest.” Halfdorn fixed his spectacle, watching Lambert inspect the necklace. “All I ever see are her victims, and might I say that woman has a lot of rage and strength.”

“What makes you say that?”

“All of her victims suffered terribly in their last moments of life.”

“Know anything about her?”

“No. All I know is she used to work for the Dielke’s as a maid.”

“Dielke’s widow didn’t mention that.” Lambert muttered. 

The pendant on the golden necklace was a red ruby. He stuffed it into his pocket and sighed. Of course she didn’t mention to him that she had personal ties to the killer. If she didn’t tell him that, what else was the old woman keeping from him?

“Well, I’ll leave you to your work, witcher.” Halfdorn nodded once to Lambert before leaving. 

As he watched the coroner leave, Lambert took a deep breath. 

The scent of lavender and rose caught his attention. It had to be her, Rosalia Larsen. The scent didn’t belong in the room. 

He stepped out of the room, eyes focused on the wooden floor. There were spots of blood down the hallway, not completely boot prints but the witcher figured it had to be from the killer. They disappeared on the top of the staircase but the scent trail continued. 

***

Mud squished beneath his boots. It had been steadily raining all day long. Luckily, it had stopped for the time being. 

The trail took him all the way across town to the edge of the forest but it stopped there. There were too many scents mixing with the killer’s. Damp moss, pine needles, and the rain were just a few things interfering with the scent. There was a pack of wolves that had recently passed through, leaving behind pawprints in the mud as well as their musty, wet dog smell.

Lambert looked down at the patch of mud, finding a wolf’s print inside of a boot print. He knelt down to inspect a boot print in the mud, the same size as the one from the scene of the murder. 

“Great.” He muttered. He wasn’t too thrilled about searching the woods for the murderer. 

He drew his silver sword and ventured into the forest.

***

The tracks ended beside a large oak tree. Lambert sighed and looked around for anything that could lead him to his target. 

“Fuck me.” He muttered. He could hear a heartbeat, steady and calm but he didn’t have enough time to figure out where it was coming from.

“Did she send you after me?” A voice came from above him. 

The witcher stepped away from the oak, tightening his grip on his sword. 

A woman was kneeling on a thick branch about six feet above his head. Her hair was dark and braided, the braid pulled over one shoulder. A few unruly strands fell out around her face, acting as some sort of frame for her hardened features.

She stood up on the branch and stepped off, landing just a few feet from the witcher. 

Now that she was closer, he could take in her appearance better. Her eyes were piercing blue and her jaw was squared with high cheekbones. She wore a white blouse with poofy sleeves that hung off of her shoulders. Over top of it was a blue corset with white floral designs. Her pants were black leather and her boots were the same black leather, though they were a bit worn. Two daggers rested on either of her hips. Black gloves covered her hands.

“Depends.” Lambert readjusted his grip on his sword. “Are you Rosalia?”

“I am.” She nodded softly, eyes flickering down to the sword he held. “You’re a witcher. Did she tell you I was a monster?”

“She did, but your actions kinda speak for themselves.” Lambert raised his sword, pointing the tip at her, and took a step towards her. 

Rosalia moved backwards until her back was to the large oak tree and she had nowhere to go. The cold metal just barely touched the column of her throat, yet she didn’t show fear. She didn’t beg for her life. She didn’t weep like so many others did.

Icy blue eyes locked with Lambert’s.

“Did she tell you that her husband raped me?” Her voice was quiet, trembling just slightly. 

Lambert didn’t move, didn’t react to her words.

“If she neglected to mention that, then I’m sure she didn’t tell you that he impregnated me because she couldn’t have children. They stole my baby from me. I…. I never even had a chance to hold him.”

“That explains why you killed her husband. Doesn’t explain why you kill others.”

Rosalia looked away for a moment, something moving in the brush stole her attention. It was a rabbit. 

She didn’t care to explain herself, to give this man her sob story. He wouldn’t care. No one cared. 

“If you’re going to kill me, get on with it.” She turned her head back to him. “I’m sure Haldana Dielke is offering quite the reward for my head. Just make sure that once she’s given you your pay, you slice her fucking head clean off. The whore deserves it.”

Lambert knew it would be easy just to kill her and collect his reward and be on his way. But a part of him wanted to know if Rosalia’s words were true, if what she had done was kill her abuser. 

With a heavy sigh, he moved away from her and lowered his sword. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth and not just trying to get me to spare your life?”

“You don’t.” Rosalia stepped away from the tree trunk. “I don’t have to say anything to get you to believe me. I could’ve killed you the second you stepped beneath this tree. But I didn’t. I don’t kill without reason.”

“The pig farmer, the one you killed in front of his children. What about him?” 

“Oh, he was lucky.” A cold smirk came to her lips. She began to move to the left, slowly circling Lambert like a cat would a mouse. “There’s a little girl who went missing four months ago. She was found with a broken neck in the woods just that way.” Rosalia nodded in the direction of the town. “He stole her from her garden and had his way with her. The townspeople did nothing when they learned of what he did. He supplies them with meat. I couldn’t stand idly by while that little girl’s family suffered.”

“Killing him wasn’t your call.” Lambert followed her every move, turning as she circled him so his back was never to her. 

“Neither is killing me yours.” 

Rosalia pulled a dagger from her hip and lunged at him. 

He stepped away and brought the sword down to slash at her arm. Her movements were swift and quick. She spun, narrowly avoiding the blade as she brought her arm in. 

He advanced towards her, knowing he had the upper hand with his sword. 

Rosalia drew the second dagger, using both this time to catch the blade of his sword just above her head. Her eyes met his, a dangerous smirk crossing her pink lips. 

A growl vibrated in his throat. He stepped towards her and delivered a heavy kick to her abdomen. She fell back onto the ground, losing both of her daggers. Before she had a chance to get up, Lambert stabbed at her with his sword. She rolled out of the way, kicking the outside of his knee. 

He grunted at the pain, feeling something crack. 

She jumped to her feet, gathering her daggers hastily. He was quick though, and she underestimated that. 

As she was turning around to charge him, he was already there, pointing his blade at her. 

“You’re quick, woman. I’ll give you that.” He panted, out of breath and a little impressed with her abilities. 

She breathed heavily through her nose, smirk still playing on her lips. She sheathed both daggers, holding her hands by her sides with her palms towards him. 

He pulled his sword back, ready to decapitate her with one clean swoop. 

Rosalia ducked but charged him, tackling the witcher to the ground. 

His sword fell from his grip and landed a few feet away. 

She managed to punch him once in his jaw before he used his strength to knock her off balance and roll over on to her. He sat on her stomach, knees on either side of her torso. 

He caught each of her hands as she tried to punch him. The smirk disappeared and a snarl replaced it. 

Being that he was on her stomach, she was able to reach up with her legs and lock her ankles around the front of his neck. From there, she forced him backwards until he let her hands go and fell back. 

Rosalia rolled backwards over her shoulders, landing on her feet a safe distance from the witcher. This gave her enough time to sprint away from him. 

“Fucking hell.” Lambert stood up and brushed off his clothing. He picked up his sword, muttering a few curses as he sheathed it. 

She was gone, disappearing into the darkening forest. 

***

The sun had long since set on Aachen. Most of the townspeople were either at the tavern or in their beds. 

Lambert met the widow at the tavern to inform her that his hunt was unsuccessful and that her life was probably in danger. 

“So?” Haldana sat up as Lambert approached her table. She gestured to the seat in front of herself where a mug of ale sat for the witcher. “Is it done?”

“Yeah, no. Larsen’s a fast one. She escaped.” Lambert shook his head. He didn’t bother to sit down, not wanting to stay for very long. “You might want to get your family out of here. I’m sure she’ll come back and try to kill you.”

He moved to walk away but she stopped him. 

“Wait! What makes you say that?”

The witcher muttered a few curses under his breath before turning back to her. 

“She told me that after I killed her, I should kill you too. Sounded pretty angry over something.” Lambert watched the woman for a moment. Curiosity was eating up at him. “What’s your deal with her? Heard she was your maid. Why the sudden desire to kill you and your family?”

“Rosalia was hardly our maid.” Haldana shook her head, twisting a ring on her finger around. “She was a nanny, and a shite one at it.”

“Killer nanny.” He muttered under his breath. “Nice.”

“What did she tell you?” Haldana raised her brows. 

Lambert glanced around the tavern briefly, spotting a hooded figure sitting on the opposite side of the establishment. 

He pulled out a chair and sat down across from Haldana. 

“Your husband took advantage of her.”

“Stupid whore.” Haldana shook her head, brushing her fingers over her hair. “She‘s been spreading rumors like that for as long as I’ve known her. She’s untrustworthy, witcher. You have to kill her before she harms my children.”

“If I’m staying in town any longer than tonight, I’m gonna need more as a reward for my work.”

Haldana muttered under her breath something Lambert didn’t care to listen to before agreeing. 

“I must be going.” 

The witcher watched her leave, then shook his head, taking a drink of the ale. His eyes gazed over the rim, watching the hooded figure move around the table to take Haldana’s spot. 

It was Rosalia. 

The witcher held her gaze, placing the ale back down on the table. Beneath the table, he reached into the sheath hidden in his boot to pull out a small dagger. 

“Never met someone who willingly sat at the same table as the person hired to kill them.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t dare lay a hand on me here in front of all these people.” She almost rolled her eyes at him. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart.” The corner of his lips turned up just slightly. 

Rosalia’s hands rested on the table. She directed her gaze down to them, rubbing her knuckles. 

She wasn’t wearing gloves at the moment so Lambert was able to see the bruising around her knuckles. They appeared swollen, probably broken. That had happened when she murdered Dielke.

“Besides I’m sure if these people were to learn who you were they’d be liable to kill you themselves.”

A devilish grin came to her lips like she wanted them to try. 

Lambert reached into a pocket on his armor and Rosalia stiffened up, hands flattening on the table as she prepared to run. 

“I found this in the room where you butchered Dielke.” He held up the golden necklace, the ruby dangling in the air. He saw the way her features shifted. She leaned back in her chair, hands falling to her lap. The grin disappeared. 

She lost in the midst of the struggle. Dielke tried to put his hands around her throat but only managed to grab the necklace. The fragile gold chain snapped and in her escape she didn’t have time to search for it. 

“I take it this is yours.” Lambert eyed the ruby. “Looks a little expensive for an assassin.”

“My father gave it to me before he died.” She answered flatly, tapping her fingers against her thigh. “It is very expensive. I imagine you’ll get quite a good deal from it when you sell it.”

Lambert said nothing for a while, placing the necklace down on the table.

“I’m sure you’ve had the chance to kill the widow. Why haven’t you?”

“The longer it takes for me to end her life, the more she just frequently sees my face around town, at the market or even passing by her house…. She’ll be overcome with fear. It will drive her mad.” The thought alone of inciting fear into Haldana made Rosalia smirk.

“If you’d like to be paid for murdering me, do it soon. I’m not sure how long I can hold off the inevitable.”

She stood to her feet and moved towards the door.

Lambert stood from his chair and put his arm out to block her. She stopped just before he had a chance to grab her. One hand took hold of his wrist while the other held his upper bicep. In one swift turn, she had him pinned to the table with his arm behind his back. 

“It was nice running into you, witcher.” 

He stood up and watched her disappear out of the tavern. 

***

The next morning, Lambert was up bright and early to do a little research on Rosalia Larsen. He was curious about her. He didn’t completely believe the story she told him, but he was sure there was some truth to it.

Everyone in town knew her name. Many refused to tell the witcher anything, believing she’d come after them. Others provided useful information. 

As the sun slipped behind the horizon, the witcher found himself wandering into the woods, secretly hoping that he could find her there. 

He began to whistle to himself, twirling his sword around in his hand.

“That’s a lovely tune, witcher.” Her melodic voice came from above him.

He sighed, shaking his head as he looked up.

Rosalia was sitting on a branch high up, swinging her legs back and forth.

“What’s with you and trees?”

“What’s with you being bad at your job?” She countered, quirking a brow. “I’ve heard stories of your kind. Surely you’d have killed me by now if you wanted me dead.”

Rosalia slipped down from the branch, landing right in front of him. Piercing blue eyes looked up at him, the corner of her lips tugging up. 

“Why is it you haven’t killed me?”

“Call it my curiosity.” He tilted his head to the side a little. Yellow eyes flickered down to shamelessly gaze at her bust. 

“My eyes are up here, witcher.” 

He smirked just slightly, finding her eyes.

“What is it you’re curious about?” Rosalia turned and moved away from him, walking around the thick base of the beech tree. Lambert sheathed his sword, knowing very well she was dangerous but he enjoyed the rush. 

He moved to follow her. 

“You. It seems everyone in Aachen fears you.”

“That’s not a difficult task. People don’t like those who are different from them.”

“You’re from Cidaris. What brought you to Temeria?” 

Rosalia stopped circling the tree and instead turned to face him. The playfully dangerous glimmer in her eyes disappeared. 

“You don’t need to hear my story, witcher. I’m not interested in your pity.” She quietly told him.

“Good. I’m not a pity party.” He crossed his arms.

Rosalia turned and started to walk through the woods, moving in and out of trees. She was swift and agile. Never once did she trip over a tree root or lose her footing.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Lambert stopped walking, something behind him catching his attention. It was the sound of footsteps upon the mossy ground, heavy boots against the mud. There was another heartbeat that didn’t belong in the forest, steadily beating.

The witcher looked over his shoulder just in time to see something hurling through the air in his direction. He ducked behind a tree as an arrow ripped through the space where he had just been. 

Rosalia had heard Lambert stop and turned to see what he was up to. She wasn’t as quick as the wolf. By the time she realized what the object was, it was already hitting her shoulder. 

She stumbled back, the force of the arrow hitting her body causing her to lose her balance. The stinging pain that erupted from the wound took Rosalia’s breath, her heart beginning to race. Red seeped from the wound, staining her gray shirt. 

Her eyes widened, panicked like an animal caught in a trap. Eyes flighted over the woods, briefly flickering over Lambert before she spotted the man moving towards her. She didn’t recognize his face but she knew she didn’t want to stay there to figure out who he was. 

Lambert watched as she snapped the end of the arrow off, leaving the tip of it still deeply embedded in her shoulder. Her heart was racing wildly and he could smell the adrenaline seeping into her veins.

She darted off into the woods, never once looking back.

Lambert watched her disappear from sight, carefully drawing his sword. His ears could pick up the sound of the stranger nearing him. Just as the man was passing the tree Lambert took refuge behind, the witcher decapitated him with one clean swing of his sword. The head rolled beneath a bush not too far away and the body collapsed. 

The witcher used the man’s shirt to wipe the blood from his blade. He patted the man’s pockets, searching for anything that may tell him who this man was. 

In a breast pocket on the man’s jerkin was a folded up piece of parchment paper. The ink had been smudged from rain or sweat - Lambert didn’t care to know. The only thing that was legible was Haldana Dielke’s name at the bottom of the paper. 

Still unsure, the witcher dug around a little more in the man’s pockets until he found a sachet of coins. The cloth sachet had the Dielke’s family crest on it, an Escutcheon shield separated into four white triangles with a bright blue X across the shield. Two of the triangles had horses in it while the other two had lilies. 

Lambert stood up, tucking the sachet of coin into his pocket. 

Haldana Dielke hired this man to do the same thing she had hired the witcher for.

A low growl vibrated in the back of his throat as he looked in the direction Rosalia had disappeared in. 

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[reformedkingsmanagent]

A Werewolf in Vizima — Part 3

A/N: So. Yeah I know it’s been forever. I appreciate your patience. Thank the universe for that new trailer. I wrote more than this, not sure if you’ll get a fourth part today but it’s pretty likely at this rate. I hope you enjoy this.

[PART 1]     [PART 2]     [PART 4]

People were running, you attempting to make your way through them proving more difficult than you anticipated. Meanwhile, Geralt was already lengths ahead, having gotten quite the head start. After a few seconds you lost sight of the silver hair and almost gave up until you reached a gathered crowd.

In a dead-end alley between two buildings, a horrible scene waited. Once you pushed through the group, the iron hit your nose and you quickly turned around, eyes wide, hoping and praying to keep your composure. It wasn’t every day you saw someone’s innards spread across the cobblestones.

Before you could turn back around and put on a brave face, a gentle hand pressed comfortingly in the middle of your back.

Geralt.

“Go home, get inside. It’s not safe.”

You shook your head, the thought of sitting at home wondering if you’d ever see the witcher again—waiting for Johanna to die—seemed like torture. You were fine. You could handle this. 

Could you?

Moments later the city guards appeared, the clink of their plate-metal armor cutting through the whispers and quiet gossip as everyone craned their necks to try to get a good look at the mess.

“Everyone! Back in your homes, please! For your own safety, disburse!”

As one of the guards moved to push you back into the crowd, Geralt’s much kinder touch pulled you in towards his side.

“She’s with me,” he warned the guard. He got a look, but the guard soon returned his attention to the others gathered around.

You let out a sigh of relief, only then realizing how close you were to him.

“You should’ve gone home,” he sighed, eyes watching the guards attempting to get rid of the more persistent stragglers. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” you answered, though your stomach was in knots.

“I don’t like the thought of you leaving the city walls,” he explained, looking up at the top of the wall caging in this alleyway. You noticed the bloodied handprint, or...pawprint?

“Geralt, are you after a...dog?”

He sighed before taking a few steps closer to the bloody scene. “Not exactly.”

“Well, if it isn’t the Butcher of Blaviken himself,” a voice cut in. Both of you turned towards the new arrival to see Vernon Roche, a well-known Temerian hero, a loyalist to the end, and apparently an acquaintance of Geralt’s. “I knew they’d hired on a Witcher, but I never guessed you’d be back south so soon.”

They clasped arms for a moment and you saw an almost relieved smile on Geralt’s face. “Didn’t know they’d pulled you back. What brings you to this side of town?”

Vernon chuckled. “Once you’ve stormed a Nilfgaardian camp, this looks downright pristine.”

You huffed quietly to yourself, itching to berate him at the first opportunity for the slight against where you lived, but thought better of it. You were beginning to rethink this tentative ‘deal.’

While they talked you busied yourself with your own personal exposure therapy. Intent on being somehow useful, you turned towards the scene, looking it over until the mildly uncomfortable sensation deep in the pit of your stomach faded. 

The skin across the man’s gut was shredded, as if it had been a piece of parchment, something you never knew to be possible. You’ve seen sickness, which was a whole other beast, but besides the occasional drunken bar fight you had thankfully been spared of any serious violence.

Until today, you mused, glancing over at the well-outfitted witcher.

What had he done to earn a title like that? ‘Butcher of Blaviken,’ eh? Friends with Vernon Roche, and Keira Metz too. Even done some ‘favors’ for King Foltest. Why did you have to cross paths with someone like him?

After a few minutes of friendly conversation, Geralt turned to you, leaving Vernon to inspect the mess himself. He gently pulled at your wrist to turn you away from it all.

“I need you to go and collect the markings on Johanna’s door.”

“You’re not going with me?” The idea of walking around the city in the evening, especially after dark, didn’t sit well with you. You usually made the journey home with Milla as she lived pretty close to you. You weren’t very far from home even now.

Geralt glanced behind him, up towards the wall. “I can’t lose this trail.” He seemed to understand what he was asking of you, as he reached down to his boot and pulled a dagger and sheath free, holding it out to you. “I can probably meet you there, but if I’m not there soon, just go home, or find somewhere safe to wait out the night.”

You hesitated, but ultimately understood that at least being armed, you’d stand a slightly better chance. “You owe me for this.”

He offered an amused smile before nodding. “I do.”

You nodded back, tucking the dagger into the pocket sewn into your dress. Usually holding much more innocuous things than a blade, it still managed to stay hidden against your side. 

Now to see to Johanna.

***

The wooden door creaked as it was pushed open and you froze, crouched low just outside, waiting for any sign that someone was headed your way. While not exactly a private residence, there were still expectations that definitely put you outside traditional visiting hours, not that Johanna was allowed to have visitors anyway.

After almost a minute of silence, you squeezed through the doorway, quickly turning and using a gentle pressure to ease the door back into place. The rooms just inside were empty for the moment so you continued up the stairs, eyes set on the door right at the top at the beginning of a long hallway. Once you neared the top, you noticed that the dishes cluttered around the door still sat untouched, some likely spoiled by now. All of it felt unnatural. The chance encounter with the Witcher seemed more and more significant with each passing second spent standing at the top of the stairs.

Looking at the door, you couldn’t see anything like what Geralt had described. No markings, no words, no symbols—

There. There they are.

They were incredibly hard to see. You slowly knelt down as close to the door as possible, straining to pick up the outlines in the dark. You reached out, fingers falling into the grooves here and there on the inside of the doorframe. You had no idea what it meant. But Geralt might.

Taking a moment to rifle through your bag you never got a chance to drop off at home, you pulled a piece of parchment out, a note left from Milla regarding the supplies she’d set out for you that evening. Realizing you couldn’t get close to the notches carved into the wood without moving some of the dishes aside, you had a sudden epiphany. Whoever carved those markings into the wood was likely also the one making sure the offerings stayed there, to make sure no one got close enough to notice them, but also to see if Johanna tried to get out.

Feeling chills rushing down your spine, you moved some of the larger plates out of the way, getting ever closer to where you needed to be. Careful to lift and move the dishes instead of dragging them across the wood, you soon had a path. Without anything to make a rubbing, you used your nail, raking it across the carvings and hoping enough of an indentation would be made to be useful. With every bit of noise, your anxiety over being caught there, and possibly by the person who put those marks there grew. 

“H-hello?”

You fell back, reaching out to prevent your fall down the stairs, heart beating out of your chest at the small voice emanating from under the door.

You couldn’t believe it. 

“Johanna?”

“Please—”

“What?” you whispered.

“Get me out of here.”

You shot a glance at the end of the hall, as if the matron would be standing there, waiting. It was empty. Still, a lump in your throat remained. 

“Okay.”

[daybreakrising]

@fightingdreamcrs​ asked: five times kissed [shika & kiba] from this meme

Under a cut bc these will all get long.

ONE

Being raised amongst dogs gave Kiba a very specific kind of mindset when it came to affection. He saw nothing wrong with being physical with those he was close to. If it was good enough for the dogs, it was good enough for him.

He had, on more than one occasion, comfortably sprawled alongside his friends in the grass, on the rooftops, head pillowed upon their shoulder, or an arm thrown across their waist. He had, even, lain practically atop one or two of them before. They didn't seem to mind, even if they probably thought it was a bit weird.

They were used to his little quirks.

He was sprawled out atop Shikamaru's favourite roof now, his head comfortably pillowed on the other boy's stomach, one finger tracing idle patterns in the clouds. Akamaru happily chewed on a stick by his feet, tail lazily wagging in the air. It was becoming routine, he realised – skipping class with Shikamaru to watch the clouds.

Normally, sitting still for this long would get under his skin. He was always so full of energy, unable to sit and do nothing for any length of time – which was why he ended up skipping class in the first place. But sometimes, it was nice. He liked Shikamaru's company.

He shifted position, lying beside the other boy instead, and turned his head to study the other's face. He wouldn't have ever picked Shikamaru as a boy to be friends with, given how different they seemed, but somehow, they worked.

With a yawn that softened into a contented sigh, Kiba rolled onto his side and slung a casual arm across Shikamaru's body and leaned in to press an affectionate kiss to his cheek.

Well, if dogs could do it, why couldn't he?

TWO

"I told you."

He stepped up beside Shikamaru, the wind threading fingers through his hair as they looked out over the rooftops of Konoha. For once, Akamaru wasn't at his side – rather, he was dutifully waiting below, no doubt conning shop owners out of scraps of food. He flashed a grin at the other boy, hands settled on his hips.

Not long before, they'd received confirmation of their success in the latest Chunin exams. As Kiba had predicted, every member of Team 8 had passed. He was supposed to go straight home, to give the news to his mother and sister, but there had been someone he wanted to see first.

He pulled back the hood of his jacket, closing his eyes as he tipped his face to the sun. He breathed in the mingling familiar scents of the village, of the boy beside him, and grinned again. Today was a good day.

"When I set my mind to something, I usually end up getting it." He turned, fully, to face Shikamaru. "But I think you already know that." Eyes flashing with a hint of mischief, he fisted his hand in the front of Shikamaru's flak jacket and dragged him in for a kiss.

THREE

Fingertips skimmed lightly over skin, finding the bumps and ridges of old scars. His own skin was littered with such marks, a by-product of their job and their training, but he always found other people's scars much more interesting.

The grass was warm beneath them, the sun bright in the sky. The sounds of the river rushing alongside them and the call of birds in the trees only added to the utter peace and tranquillity of the moment. It was a rare thing for both of them to have a day off at the same time. It only made it all the more special when they did.

Shikamaru's eyes were on the sky, watching clouds as was his habit, but Kiba knew from the faint lift in one corner of his mouth that he wasn't entirely focused on them. One hand shifted from behind Shikamaru's head, instead coming to rest on Kiba's back, right in the space between his shoulders.

Kiba, naturally, took that as his cue. He shifted his weight, leaning more into the other boy, his lips finding one of the thin ridges across Shikamaru's sternum. He felt the abdomen beneath him tense as a breath was drawn in, his lips curving into a smile against his partner's skin. He kissed another scar, beneath a collarbone, and from there it was all too easy to find his throat, his jaw, his lips.

Akamaru, tired of entertaining himself, chose that moment to leap from the river and shower his two human friends as he shook himself dry.

FOUR

Kiba was uncharacteristically quiet and calm as he walked alongside Shikamaru, his eyes scanning the woods around them with interest. This was not the time or place for running wild. Even Akamaru seemed to sense the importance of this development in the relationship.

He knew where they were, even without Shikamaru telling him.

He knew what that meant.

The Nara Forest. Only members of the Nara clan were supposed to be allowed in here. When Shikamaru had suggested they take a walk together, he certainly hadn't been expecting this. Was this breaking any rules? He guessed that, since Shikamaru had brought him here, it was okay, but he couldn't help but wonder.

He sensed the deer before he saw them, Akamaru sniffing at the air a few seconds ahead of him. They emerged slowly, one by one, until Kiba realised they were entirely surrounded by the creatures. How many were there in this forest? Too many to count. When Shikamaru came to a stop, they approached, bending their faces towards his outstretched hand.

Warily, Kiba held out his own hand to the nearest deer, ready to back off if it took offense. After only a brief hesitation, it stalked closer, pressing its cool nose to his palm in greeting. Kiba grinned, letting his fingertips brush over its velvety muzzle. He was so caught up with this beautiful creature that he didn't register the presence at his back until arms snaked around his waist.

He dropped his hand, turning around to face Shikamaru. They didn't need words. Kiba knew what it meant for Shikamaru to bring him here. It was like the equivalent of Shikamaru being allowed amongst the new pups in the Inuzuka kennels. Family.

When Shikamaru leaned in, he met him halfway.

FIVE

"Ahh… I have never had more appreciation for my sister than I do right now."

It was all he could do not to fall through the door. He stripped off his jacket and his shoes, hanging one up and leaving the other scattered untidily next to the rack solely for that purpose. It would drive his partner mad, but that was precisely why he did it. He couldn't help it – he just loved that little furrow in his brow whenever he tried to scold him.

"Nine pups." He whined, padding over to the spot by the window where his partner sat, eyeing the arranged pieces on the board in front of him. "Nine. Practically identical, too, so trying to remember which ones I'd already checked over…" He trailed off into a yawn as Akamaru loped over, giving his partner an obligatory nuzzle, tongue grazing the back of a hand before he curled up in his favourite spot on the other side of the board.

Kiba folded himself over his partner's shoulders, nuzzling the back of his neck with all the affection of a sleepy pup. "Playing against yourself again?" He murmured, glancing at the pieces on the shogi board. He'd never been able to pick up the game, no matter how often Shikamaru tried to teach him.

He pressed a kiss to the pawprint tattoo normally hidden beneath the sleeve of Shikamaru's shirt, matched to the set of antlers in the same place on his own shoulder. He lifted a hand, gently tugging the tie from Shikamaru's hair, instantly running his fingers through the long locks as soon as they were free. He loved Shikamaru’s hair. "I'll make a start on dinner, hm?"

As he made to stand, a hand came up to catch his own. With a grin, Kiba leaned in to accept the offered kiss, letting it linger for several moments. When he pulled back, he winked. "Try not to kick your own ass too hard, Shika. I'm quite fond of it."

[migila]

7 Seeds Week, day 3!

Theme of the day: Wild animal

Starring: Gengorou and Natsu

Day 3: Wild Animal

“Paw prints?” Ayu asks, looking up from the plant she was examining.

“Ye-yes” Natsu confirms “They, um, they looked like a cat’s, but they were a little too big, so I was thinking, um… a tiger, perhaps?”

Ayu looks thoughtful, but other than that, Natsu can’t read her expression.

“I probably shouldn’t have said anything; what if they weren’t a feline’s footprints after all?” Natsu thought nervously “What if it was some other animal that has already been spotted here? Ayu-san could get mad at me for wasting her time.”

“Show me where you saw them”

“Huh?” she wanted to see?

“We need to see if it really is some feline beast; it could be dangerous” Ayu said “Fortunately felines don’t tend to move in packs, but we can’t be sure. And even one could be dangerous if it was aggressive.”

“R-right” Natsu said. Leading Ayu to the pawprints, she really hoped that they were what she thought they were.

“But wait, if they are, then it’ll be dangerous” she realized “It’d be better if I was wrong, even if Ayu-san would get mad.”

“It really is a tiger or a similar feline” Ayu said, both to Natsu’s relief and horror “Though they’re a little small; perhaps it’s just a cub?”

Natsu didn’t comment, for it seemed like Ayu was talking more to herself than asking her opinion.

“We should tell Gengorou about this; he has experience with tigers” he did? Team Summer A was amazing.

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

“A tiger?” Gengorou repeated, and to Natsu he seemed excited.

“Ye-yes” she confirmed. Somehow, she had ended up having to be the one to tell him as Ayu had gone to round up the puppies, just in case the feline was still nearby “Or some other type of feline. Ayu-san said it might be just a cub.”

“Interesting” he said, but his face suddenly supported a frown “And a little worrying. If there’s one, there could be more. We haven’t seen any so far, but if any start showing up, they might cause harm to our community. We should take a look at this. Where did you see the paw prints?”

Natsu led him over to the prints, looking around a bit nervously, fearing that the feline might jump out from somewhere. But on the other hand, keeping an eye out for the animal kept her from being too nervous about being alone with Gengorou. Natsu didn’t really know him; had never really even talked to him in fact aside from a few words as she and Ayu introduced the new plants they’d discovered. Fortunately, he seemed like a serious person, not like someone who’d mess with people.

“Here” she said, realizing right after that it was pointless; Gengorou could clearly see the prints himself. Not that he seemed to mind. Examining the marks, he said: “I think it really is a tiger. A cub, I’m sure. That’s worrying.”

“Because if there’s a cub here, the mother won’t be far” Natsu silently murmured to herself, but it didn’t go unheard by her companion.

“Exactly” he said “The track leads to the woods; let’s see how far we can get.”

“We?” Natsu repeated. Did he expect to go after it now? And just the two of them?

“I don’t see a reason why not” Gengorou said, looking at Natsu “It’s better to go now so that we won’t lose the trail.”

“But… won’t it be dangerous?” she asked, unable to meet Gengorou’s eyes.

“Perhaps, but we’ll be cautious” Gengorou said “I have my gun along too, so if it becomes necessary, I can use it.”

“But…”

“…I won’t force you to come if you don’t want to” Gengorou said “I can go alone.”

Natsu didn’t want to go; she was a little scared and being alone with Gengorou made her nervous. But-

“No, I’ll come” she said as confidently as she could. It could be dangerous, so it was no good to let him go alone, no matter how capable he was. And as a cat person, part of her wanted to see the tiger.

“Alright then” he said “Let’s go.”

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

After they’d walked a while, the silence between them got overwhelming for Natsu and she gathered her courage to ask: “Um, shouldn’t we have told someone where we’re going?”

“I’m sure Ayu already knew I’d do this” Gengorou told her “She’ll come after us if we take too long to her liking.”

Natsu could imagine her doing that, directing her annoyance at the two of them. She wasn’t looking forward to that.

They almost lost the track a few times, Natsu definitely would have had she been alone, but Gengorou always managed to find it again. Eventually he came to a sudden halt, holding out his arm to signal for Natsu to stop as well.

Realizing that they must’ve found the feline, Natsu tensed. She really hoped it was just a cub like the Summer A members had thought.

“There’s two of them” Gengorou said quietly, and Natsu peeked around him to confirm this. Indeed, there were two at the coastline, a cub and an adult, probably it’s mother, but the later looked hurt, perhaps even dead.

“Stay here” Gengorou whispered as he pulled out his gun, and Natsu really hoped it was just to be safe. He walked over to the felines slowly and cautiously. Natsu could see the cub hissing at her companion, baring its fangs. She could see Gengorou kneeling down in front of it, not too close, letting it get used to him, all the while most likely keeping an eye on the bigger feline. Finally, after the cub had calmed down, curiously sniffling the man, he slowly rose, going towards the remaining feline.

“It’s dead” he called out loud enough for Natsu to hear after a while. She was relieved, but also a little sad for the cub; it was all alone now.

Coming out of her hiding place, Natsu approached the cub silently, much like Gengorou had done. It hissed at her as well, but stopped not long after. Getting used to the other human around must’ve sped up it’s process of getting used to her.

“Hello” she cooed to the kitten- ahem, tiger as it sniffed her hand. As she did, she noticed that it was hurt; it was dragging it’s left back paw “Are you hurt?”

“It does seem to be” Gengorou said as he came over, and Natsu decided to keep the fact that she wasn’t actually asking it to herself “But it didn’t look all that bad; I’m sure it’ll heal with the right help.”

“That’s a relief” Natsu said. Otherwise she would’ve cooed it to the kitten, but she feared what Gengorou would say about it, so she held her tongue. Instead, she asked: “Do you think these two are the only ones?”

“Very likely; I think they crossed the sea to get here” the man said “They must’ve been swept away by the current.”

“That’s so sad” Natsu muttered, carefully scooping up the tiger cup. She held it firmly enough to not drop it, but loosely enough that if it wanted to jump away, it could. But it didn’t seem to mind. Natsu wanted to take it home with her, but knew it wasn’t that simple. This wasn’t a cat; while the tiger was probably harmless now, there could be trouble when it grew up. But to leave it all alone…

“I didn’t expect you to just pick it up” Gengorou said, startling Natsu. She had almost forgotten he was there “I… I’m sorry.”

“Ah no, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing” he said, smiling as he stroked the tiger’s fur “Most people would just be too afraid to do so.”

Natsu blushed a little, feeling like it was a compliment, though she couldn’t be sure.

“…What should we do about this?” she asked “It might not make it if we leave it alone.”

“That could be” Gengorou said “We could take it along for now, at least until it’s healed. Maybe we could even keep it around.”

“You think so?” Natsu asked hopefully.

“Not in the settlement of course, but somewhere close” Gengorou said “If the others don’t mind, of course. I like tigers, but the same can’t be said for everyone. Understandable when we think of what could go wrong.”

“We won’t know without asking, will we?” Natsu said, suddenly determined “We should try.”

She just hoped that that just now hadn’t come across as an order and made Gengorou mad.

“Yes, we should” he agreed, much to her delight “Do you want to talk to Ayu?”

“Eh? Me?” the idea was rather scary; Ayu was scary “I… that’s…”

“I can talk to her myself if you’re not up to it” Gengorou said “Actually, that might be for the best as I know her better. How about you talk to Botan-san instead?”

That was a good idea, and it’d be easier. But…

She couldn’t just always pick the easy way out.

“No” she said “I can talk to Ayu-san. Botan-san too of course, but I’ll be able to talk to Ayu-san!”

“Alright then” she was glad that he didn’t see any problem with it; she had no idea how to handle it if he got angry “We should head back.”

“Right” Natsu said, fixing her hold on the tiger so that it wouldn’t fall. Eyeing her, Gengorou asks: “Should I carry it?”

“No, I can do this” this was the one thing Natsu could say with confidence “I know what I’m doing.”

“You have experience with tigers?” Gengorou asked, making Natsu blush again “Ah, not exactly. I um, I had a cat, so…”

“I see, I suppose the basics of handling them might be similar” he paused “But a tiger is definitely more dangerous if something goes wrong.”

“…Yes…” she knew that of course; she wasn’t stupid, but she was sure she could handle this… or at least, she had been sure. Now she started to doubt herself again.

“I actually took care of a tiger in the past” Gengorou said suddenly, making Natsu look at him in shock “Ban-Chan and Ayu-san too; we were in the animal class together” he pauses, but then adds: “His name was Tango.”

“My cat’s name was Macademia Nuts” Natsu told in return “Nuts for short.”

This was what they called small talk, right? Natsu had never been good at that, but maybe she could handle it when it was about animals?

“What species was it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Natsu didn’t mind at all; she loved to talk about cats. And surprisingly, talk they did, all the way back to the settlement, and they were by no means in a hurry.

As they finally got back, Natsu handed the tiger cub to Gengorou, leaving to look for Ayu. As she did, she wondered if she could consider herself having made a new friend today.

[the-fickle-muse]

The future has fangs

Colleseum AU timeline.  Set post SUF  3k words.

Chapter 2 : A tiger in the woods.

The dining room was surprisingly quite empty as Steven and Connie began their breakfast. The manager, a nice lady with short hair, had chalked it up to Beach City incidents driving people away lately. He likely would have found that funny if it weren't for… well. You know.

"So, let's start again-" Connie chirped from behind a mouthful of buttered toast. Her back a little stiff after sleeping on the brick-like mattresses of the B&B. "You'd heard weird noises all night but didn't go check it out?"

"It's been keeping me awake, yeah. I thought maybe it was just a wild animal but…" He trailed off, picking with little appetite at the chunky breakfast sausage sitting on his plate, eventually giving up and tossing it to lion with a sigh. "I guess I thought once I left Beach city all the gem stuff would start going away."

A soft ache at Connie's chest forced her mouth to twist into a sad smile. Of course Steven wanted to get away from it all. It was just an awfully timed coincidence that a corrupted gem of all things would appear now. "Well, since we're only a day or so away, we could poof it  and I can deliver it to the gems to cleanse the corruption. You don't have to come back if you don't want to." 

The awkward expression he gave her quickly shut that idea down, remembering that Steven would need to be present to actually fix the gem. As much as taking a bottle of his spit back would work, in theory, it wasn't a particularly pleasant plan.

"No." He resigned, pushing the mostly empty plate away in defeat. "It's no big deal, just one more gem, right?" The concern in Connie's eyes was almost convincing, but he soon stood up and nodded firmly to confirm his thoughts. "Don't worry, Connie. If I wanted to say no I'd say no. Or I'd make some kind of joke about it..."

Her little chortling sounded like music to his ears. So goofy and sweet. The good kind of pink flush rushed to his rounded cheeks as she rose from her seat and shook her head. "I couldn't convince you not to if I tried, Steven Universe, but it was worth a shot." Her eyes sparkle with an idea, Lion nosing his head onto her plate to grab at the leftovers. "You know, there is one thing you could do to make this better for the both of us."

"And-" Steven is caught during the reply as Connie hopped forward to plant a peck on his cheek. "-uh, wuh, what would that be?" He stammered, blinking away the kiss with a giddy smile.

"I want you to sit this one out." It was clear and concise. Confidently worded as she let her hand linger on his shoulder, watching for the predictable 'wait what?' expression before continuing. "I can handle this, Steven." Her smile lowered, eyes drifting to lion who had finished clearing their plates and was grooming one of the many spots of missing fur from yesterday. "I really don't think-"

"Thank you." 

That one little phrase stopped Connie in her tracks, eyes flicking back to him in surprise. "I… guess it was obvious I really don't want to fight, huh." He chuckled running a hand up the back of his neck. "I get it, too, that I'm not really ok to be… I don't feel comfortable after…" Oh Steven. She understood perfectly well, that's why she even brought it up. But to accept that, and understand, was already such a big leap. She didn't know whether to feel proud or pity him.

She pulled him into a soft, warm, one armed hug. Patting his back a few times before they both cleaned up their table and bid farewell to the cheerful manager. Connie pullined the heavy Pink sword from Lion's mane as they approached the main road, hoisting it up onto her shoulder with one arm while her free hand lay interlocked with Stevens.

The distant rolling thunder of cars surfing over the well kept roads almost gave the outdoors some form of white noise. The brushing of leaves and twittering of small sparrows overtaking the city symphony as they hurried across the asphalt and into the treeline. Her knees and hands, all the way up to the wrist, had been wrapped in clean, sturdy, bandages. The many little scrapes from yesterday were a learning experience, already healed with Steven's help.

The woodlands were just as they had been yesterday. Yet the sky was much different. Swirling wisps of cloud danced around like silk, taken easily in the cool breeze. The sun, not yet having risen enough to beam brightly, cast the horizon in deep golds and oranges. It reminded Steven of his early mornings back home. Rushing to the big doughnut to meet Sadie and Lars. Getting early access to last night's fry-bits from Peedee. It was a warm, Cozy feeling to be thinking of those kinds of mornings.

The minutes flew by, as did yesterday's landmarks. Passing the monolith, then the arrow-trail, and finally coming to the clearing from before. Steven took a long sigh-like breath as he finally let go of Connie and the both of them warily explored the battlezone.

He remembered the direction the gem had taken off in, but felt at a loss when he tried to imagine how far it may have gone by now. After all, gems don't need sleep like they did. And for all he knows it could have been running since their encounter. Broken twigs, a vaguely large break in the opposing bushes...

"Steven, come look at this." Connie squatted into a spry crouch, interested in the dirt, which as he got closer revealed a little glimmer of a clue. "Pawprints." She mumbled. A hand wandering idly down to touch the deep indentation in the dust. It was wide, and only had three toes, making a perfect match got the gem they had seen before. A little further forward was another, and around the same area slightly less defined triangular prints also started to show. Marks of the two-toed back feet by the looks of it.

"They look like the right size. What do you think, lion?” He asked cheerily, ruffling Lion's airy mane as the big cat stooped down to sniff at the trail. Dust and specks of grit flew away from his muzzle on every loud exhale. Taking slow meandering steps over the indentations, his ears pricking up every so often like two twitchy antennae. Finally satisfied, he turned around to look eagerly back at Steven and Connie. 

Hesitation was gripping tediously at Steven's bones as he watched Connie stand up and dust off her knees, wanting to reach out and call the whole thing off so what happened yesterday wouldn't repeat itself. But he knew that wasn't an option anymore. He had faith in her but that faith alone couldn't fight away the gnawing unease of the task ahead.

Lion stayed just a pace behind the troublesome duo, eyes wandering idly of their own accord. The bushes they passed had lingering traces of the beast and with every step closer his tail twitched just a little harder. 

It had hurt him, but not out of anger or savagery. No. It was scared. Lost. Abandoned? His first instinct might have been to observe it with curiosity had it not so suddenly attacked Connie. After all, that's exactly what he'd been doing for a week now. Watching it. Following it. The ambush was unexpected. If he'd known it would have behaved so destructively toward his little human companion he never would have brought her.

The slow crawl of changing scenery eventually escaped the dense trees, out into open air. Large walls of stone jutted out of the ground like steep pedestals hosting unknown treasures on top. The tracks they had been following vanished as dirt gave way to gravel and Lion suddenly halted. The scent trail gems left behind would generally grow stronger the closer they got, and right now it was pretty strong.

"Do you think it's here?" Connie whispered gingerly while letting her blade droop in her grasp.

Steven's stomach was in knots. It twisted and wrenched around itself and yet he managed to keep the feeling subdued by watching Connie's face. Her eyes were narrowed and intense. He didn't need to ask to know what was going on in that head of hers. Such blazing determination; it was infectious. "Yeah. It's got to be here." He took a breath, reaching into Lion's mane with an awkward rummage before pulling something small out. "Stand still."

"What?" She made no moves, expecting danger, but instead was greeted by his hands moving softly through her hair. "-Oh." Trying not to catch any stray tangles as he guided it all into a messy ponytail and twisted on a hairband. Earning a sweet smile as a result. "Thank you, Steven!"

The mushy moment didn't last long as without delay Connie took lead of the walk forward. Everyone's eyes scanned the available horizon until not even a minute into the search they found their prize. Snuffling over the cold stone floor, its muzzle pressing to the dust, with its tail dragging along behind it. 

The gem’s ragged pelt rippled golden under the tinted dawn light. Heavy shadows from surrounding pillars casting darkness over large strips of the open area. It didn't seem to notice the approaching trio until Connie slid down a noisy bank of loose pebbles and tumbling rocks. Despite not being able to see any eyes beyond the mounds of fur, she could feel its pinpoint glare lock onto her the moment it looked her way. It’s fur prickled uncomfortably before laying flat again on noticing Lion and Steven still stashed away at the top of the sheer slide.

An eerie silence alerted Connie to the slow drumming of her pulse in her ears. Guarded and tense as her eyes bore into the creatures bottomless hair. She could feel her palms clam up with sweat underneath the bandage straps, frowning as it stayed statuesque in a frozen crouch. 

Yesterday's fight had by no means been one sided. Even after Lion received one too many injuries Connie had held her ground with impressive technique. The creature fought with an air of predictability. A savage instinct that worked to make it stronger yet easier to anticipate. Many of its moves had been so heavily telegraphed she began to wonder if it was being intentionally slow.

The creature took cautious lumbering steps forward, smooth muzzle creasing, low grinding snarls serving as a warning to the determined human still menacingly standing there. The pink blade reflected soft sparkles of light across the floor with a rosy tint. Time fell to a sluggish crawl, neither making a move without the other instigating it. Connie’s patience was stretched further and further, like a boiling tea kettle. Her sweaty palms readjusted on the sword’s thorn-patterned hilt. Teeth began to grind. “Come on….” She hissed under a delayed breath, shuddering at the feeling of their onlooker’s eyes on the back of her neck. “Stop waiting, come at me!”

A thunderous screech echoed off of the surrounding stones. The gem, finally giving way to the human’s harsh demands, charged forward. It was only a few leaps until the colossal figure collided with Connie’s sword. A clash of razor claws on pearly metal threw sparks as its onslaught of blows bounced harmlessly, but not effortlessly, away from the blade. Connie’s feet danced across the dirt in quick, calm, movements. She was ready for a fight today. 

The gem’s Sharp fangs glimmered, reflecting Connie’s face in their smooth polished edges, almost glowing the further into the fight they went. It was hard not to imagine them closing around her arms and shattering the bones inside. A gritty taste invaded Connie’s mouth as their brawl began to throw up clouds of dust.

The beast lowered, a sign Connie recognised immediately from yesterday. A pounce was coming. If it landed on her the amount of force would knock her over. Thinking quickly, she rolled to the left, making sure to stay away from the direction of the glaring sun so it couldn’t get in her eyes. As predicted the gem lunged forward at the moment she dodged, heavy legs swatting onto the sooty stone. Her sword sailed in a wide arc, whistling as she aimed for the Beast’s head…

The sudden drop in momentum was jarring. A reverberating rattle of metal on hard light. The gem’s mouth had caught the blade mid-swing. Connie’s wide eyes tried to process the sight as it too stood silent for a moment before it tugged at the sword, almost pulling it from her grip. Connie, wincing, shoulder still ringing from the sudden impact, dug her shoes into the pebble-ridden ground. She attempted to keep hold of the weapon while dark rumbles roll out of the creature’s mouth.

Finally it let go, though she wasn’t ready for it, and a hard pull sent her stumbling backwards onto the floor. Steven, who had been keeping a hand in Lion's mane for security, stiffened at the sight. The Gem leaned over her, a paw on either side of her legs, while she stared up at it, frozen. 

“...Grrfff.” It huffed, almost disappointed. The beast blew hot air across Connie’s face before it turned around and walked away, leaving her lying propped up on padded elbows with a confused look cemented onto her face. She stared up at where its muzzle had just been before blinking repeatedly and groaning, hauling herself back onto her feet.

Steven’s head felt like it was going to implode, finally breathing out a long weighty breath he didn’t realise was being held. That was lucky. Hold on. No it wasn’t. That was intentional. His brow creased as he walked to the steep gravelly drop, watching the Gem circle away from Connie and then back again. Re-aligning itself in front of her and shaking off the dust that had settled in its mane. “It’s fighting because she asked it to.” The realisation hit like a puzzle piece being put in place. Sucking in air with surprise, he cupped both hands up in front of his mouth. “Connie, it’s sparring with you!”

Connie’s sword hand wobbled uncomfortably as she aimed the blade back at the monster. Conflicted feelings clouded her senses as it once again lurched forward into an attack. Early training days with Pearl echoed in her head. The choreographed movements, the less frantic fighting, stopping on someone’s defeat instead of following through… and then the corrupted gems she had faced before with Steven. Savage and desperate. Life threatening and high-stakes with no hesitation on either side of the field to finish the fight. 

A surge of adrenaline brought a thunderous cry of effort out of her throat, slamming the flat side of the sword across the beast’s face instead of rolling away. The charge redirected as it stumbled over its own feet from the impact and crumpled to the ground, enough momentum in its run to have it roll aimlessly across the stone for a moment. It lay dizzy and dazed from the unexpected strike.

This time the creature was the one on the ground and it was Connie’s turn to blot out the sun. Planting a foot on its large forearm, she lifted the blade to its head, looking down at the creature with an impossible to read expression. In the background, Lion and Steven slid over the steep ledge and made their way to the pair. Connie sighed, lowering the sword again, and took a step away. She couldn’t poof it. It wasn’t like fighting any other corrupted gem they’d encountered before. It wasn’t just some mindless force of destruction. And neither was she.

“Connie, that was amazing!” Steven’s cheers brought her thoughts crashing back to the present as he grabbed her in a big, tight hug. “Not really what we came here to do but… I mean, I think you won, right?” He chuckled, looking from her embarrassed face to the gem beast still lying comfortably on the floor with what almost looked like a smile.

She patted the back of his jacket, looking uneasily from him to Lion and finally the creature. “I guess?” The patient looking expression on its face made her brows raise in curiosity, confirming a few lingering thoughts as the beast dipped its head in a single nod as a response. “But what about yesterday? Why would it be so aggressive then but not now? I don’t know, Steven, this one is… strange.”

“Huh, you’re right.” He mused, pulling a hand up to his mouth in thought, side-eyeing their potentially dangerous ‘acquaintance’ with a squint. “I can’t say about when you first ran into it, but when I got there it seemed pretty afraid, right? Maybe something else has been fighting it?”

Connie sighed heavily, a smile creeping back onto her face as she watched Lion approach the creature with caution. They stretched out to sniff at each others’ muzzles, despite the beast having no visible nose, and then Lion inevitably recoiled with a passive aggressive growl. They were very clearly not fond of each other, but neither made any attempt to bother the other outside of a few wayward chuffs and grumbles. 

“So… what do we do? If we can’t poof it-”

“We should give it a name.” He cut her off, carrying on as Connie stared at him as if his hair had just turned into feathers. “We can’t just call them ‘it’ all the time, right? You fought it, so why don’t you name it?”

She blinked, taking a second to process the request before shaking her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Alright.” She brushed his goofy smile away with feigned irritability, trying to keep a straight face and only failing on turning back to the two large balls of fur. Lion seemed to be batting curiously at the creature’s large tail. Which it was obviously trying to ignore, flicking the tail’s clubbed end back and forth in an effort to keep it out of his puffy pink paws.

“How about…” Connie’s eyes wandered over the beast's body, settling time and time again on the large burnt orange stripes lining their arms and legs. “Weeee have Lion… so why not Tiger?”

At once the creature’s uninterested posture stiffened and it stood up. Eyeing Connie with an intensity that made her feel like a target. But, by the looks of it, Steven didn’t seem to be affected as much as she was, clapping his hands together as he beamed. “Tiger! What do you think, do you like that name?” he chirped, grabbing the gem’s attention with the word.

Connie pouted for a moment and placed both hands firmly at her hips. “If all gems are named after real gemstones… amethyst, garnet, pearl. Do you think it’s possible this is a tiger’s eye?”

“Maybe. I can’t remember meeting a tiger’s eye before. Do you think they all look like this?” 

“I don’t think we’ve seen any gem that chooses to look like it's corrupted. We really need to ask the Gems about this. They’ll know.”

[into-the-faewood]

A Beginner’s Guide to Hunting Demons

Read from the beginning • Previous chapter • AO3

52. Indication

South of the Rededge River, the land spreads flat and marshy. The trees grow squat and twisted, and the earth shines wet between patches of scrubby grass. It’s unappealing, even for Deimos – but Jasper grins at the sight of it anyway, like it’s the king’s own golden carpet unrolling before his feet.

This is his last night in the demon realm, and he has the feeling it’s going to be a good one.

After all, the last night of the previous trip was when the demon pack attacked, and that ended in a triumphant victory for Jasper and Doran. Now, Jasper’s stronger than ever, more in control of his power, and he and Doran are closer than ever. All they’re missing is a demon or twenty to soundly defeat.

Jasper’s spirit thrums eagerly in his chest at the thought, and he looks over at Doran. Doran’s expression is neutral, focused on the path ahead, his face calm and handsome in the moonlight. When he glances over at Jasper, though, their gazes catch and spark like flint against steel.

Warmth rushes through Jasper. He met Doran’s challenge last night – what might Doran have him do tonight? Surely, he thinks, they’ll want to reward themselves for the epic demon battle he’s already imagining will occur. Surely they’ll find a new way to enjoy the thrill of being here, the potent connection of spirit transference.

Jasper grins at Doran, so busy imagining the possibilities that he steps directly into a wet patch of mud. He starts as his shoe sinks in with a squelch.

A slight hint of amusement quirks the corner of Doran’s mouth, and he looks forward, his voice is cool as he advises, “Watch your step.”

Jasper’s in too good a mood to be embarrassed. He pulls free of the mud and takes refuge on more solid ground. But his eye is caught by a shadow in the mud, not far from where he stepped – a wide pawprint, tipped with wicked claws.

“Doran, look.” There’s a trail of prints beyond this one, set deep into the mud. The lesser demon who left them must be a large one.

Doran lets Jasper take the lead as they follow the prints over the muddy earth and around the twisted roots of trees. Excitement buzzes in Jasper’s veins. Hunting a powerful demon is exactly the kind of adventure he expected to find tonight.

“We should be cautious,” Doran tells him as they move quietly across the flat plain, following the demon’s trail. “Based on what we’ve seen so far, we can’t rely on our existing assumptions of demon behavior.”

“Right.” Last time, fighting a single demon ended with them surrounded by an entire pack. Jasper’s not going to fall for the same trick twice – although for the moment, there’s no sign of other tracks besides these.

As they leave the river behind, the marshy land becomes drier and grassier, rolling with gentle hills. The tracks grow harder to see, then stop. Jasper pauses. Could the demon be nearby? Even under the full moon, shadows linger thick enough under the trees to obscure a lesser demon.

But it’s unlikely that the demon is lurking nearby – it would have already scented Jasper and Doran and attacked them, right? It must have continued on. He peers at the ground, aware of Doran’s gaze on him. There must be some indication of where the demon went –

A rumbling growl cuts into the still night air.

Jasper whirls, looking for a sign of movement, a shadow within shadows – but nothing moves around him.

Until something moves above him. He jerks his head up, just in time to see the demon pouncing from the branches of a tree, fangs glinting in the moonlight, claws extended.

Jasper flinches away, but he’s not fast enough. The demon lands on top of him, wide paws slamming into his chest, fanged mouth reaching for this throat.

“Jasper!”

At Doran’s voice, the demon’s head whips up to look at him. Jasper takes the chance to shove it off him, his hands finding cold, soft fur. The demon’s claws catch on his robe, but he manages to roll free.

The demon growls, but when Jasper jumps to his feet, it draws back, triangular ears pressed back against its head. Jasper glances at Doran, grinning, his heart racing with an electric mix of fear and excitement.

Doran gives him a sharp look. He’s carefully holding a neutral stance, his hands at his sides – ready to intervene, but not doing it yet.

Good. Jasper steps into first form as he turns back to the demon. It’s crouched low the ground, its black eyes moving warily between Jasper and Doran, its long tail twitching. Its flat face is pulled into a snarl, showing two long fangs.

Jasper instinctively raises his hands to blast it away. His spirit, hot and riotously full in his chest, surges immediately down his arms – but he catches himself before he casts any magic.

He shouldn’t rush into first form. He can feel Doran’s eyes on him, and that’s enough to send a thrill of determination through him. He’s going to do this right.

He shifts sideways, switching to second form, pointing two fingers at the demon. He drags in a breath – he has to aim this correctly to immobilize the demon –

In a sudden burst of movement, the demon springs from its crouch, leaping for Jasper. Jasper has to scramble aside, dropping his stance. The demon lands beside him, claws digging into the earth, and whirls to face him, growling.

Jasper gasps and raises his arm again, planting his feet firmly, his left hand reaching back for balance. He needs time to aim, but he doesn’t have it – all he can do is let his spirit surge down his arm and burst from his fingers as bright white lightning.

The demon flinches away, and the magic goes wide, cutting a jagged path through the air. Jasper grits his teeth.

“Again,” says Doran, and Jasper nods. The demon is wary now, hunched low, dark fur rippling in the moonlight as its muscles tense.

Jasper breathes in, feeling the eager pulse of his spirit, the anxious thrill of anticipation. And then he breathes out, letting those sensations flow through him, focusing only on his power and the path it will take.

This time the crackling bolt hits the demon head on. The demon is thrown back by the force, lands and rolls on the ground, white sparks jumping over its fur. Then it lies still, alive but trailing thick black smoke.

Excitement rushes through Jasper. “Should I bind it?”

Doran’s eyes catch on Jasper’s, too bright to read. “This could be a good opportunity.”

“Okay.” Jasper seizes a demon ring from his belt and steps closer to the demon.

The demon is immobile, stunned by the magic, but its black eyes watch Jasper as he approaches and its ears twitch angrily. Like this, Jasper can see its adamant, set at the crown of its head so that its two horns, which sprout from its forehead and stretch back, curve around it. The gem is large and deep red.

A prickle of anticipation crawls along Jasper’s skin. This might be a lesser demon, but it’s holding a lot of power.

The demon moves suddenly, swiping at him with its knife-edged claws – it’s still stunned enough that the attack is clumsy, but it sets Jasper’s heart pounding anyway. He takes a breath, trying to calm the hot rush of excitement inside him, trying to focus. He has to take action, but he can’t risk destroying the demon, not now when the promise of binding it is within reach.

Shifting, he brings his hands together into the third form, and then releases them, aiming a brief burst of magic at the demon.

The magic disintegrates the demon’s back legs, leaving only a shadow that quickly dissolved into smoke. It yowls as smoke pours from the wound.

Jasper swallows hard. Stepping closer, he opens the simple metal ring. He’s practiced the words enough that they come automatically: “With this ring, I bind your body to my control. With these words, I bind your spirit to my command.” The iron ring starts to glow warm in his hand. “Grant me your loyalty from now until death.”

And, heart racing, he bends and closes the ring around the demon’s neck.

Next chapter

[ukdamo]

The Liberation of Berlin Zoo, 1945

Mario Petrucci

'Whenever you see a green space in Berlin be very suspicious.' Pieke Biermann A shell ladders the wire fence top to bottom - skids to its middle in mud, a huge sizzling clove. And out they stalk under wide noonlight - wary at first, casting this way and this with the yellow of hunger that winks in phosphorescent coins. The cats currmurr - a liquid that beats in their throats low and thick, almost a cello. Movement stirs instinct - ankles, wrists, pale exposures of neck. Jaguar begins. Her continents of muscle flinch. She unwinds her crouch into the convoy's parallel herd - embraces from behind, full pelt, a traffic policeman, his white-gloved salute the flash of a doe's tail. In the act of being savaged his hands signal on - and for seconds diverted trucks respond without dent or screech. On Tiergartenstrasse, Panther is surprised onto its haunches by Oberkommandierender Guttmann rounding a bend. Animal meets animal. Panther grins - lifts a black velvet claw. Guttmann raises a hand. And for a moment they are old co-conspirators slapping pad to palm - before a single swipe opens a flap in Guttmann's pot neatly through the buttonhole, spills his coils into winter which at last he feels, threading him. Panther swills bloodwine. Fangs the sweet cakes of a half-digested Limburger lunch. Orang-utan has mounted a tram. Points back at children, one arm trailed in a mockery of style, chin cocked to velocity's breeze. Tonight she'll drag knuckles right up the Reichstag steps, plant a trained suck on the cheek of the porter. His look will pale her into intelligence. On Potsdamer Platz Zho crops turf. Her eyes betray a sidewise disposition towards predators louche in the alleys behind speakeasy and bar. Yet something is missing from the maw of buildings - a tooth pulled from history to make this square of sward, which Zho crops simply because it grows, because it ranks so unnaturally green. Last is Python. Her anvil head, by degrees, jacks towards dim hammerings of free air, grim to push the die-cast snout into any nest of blood. The cold slides into her. She slops into culverts heavy as a rope of copper - moulds to the sewers, wraps the city in coils of intention. Develops a rattle for Russia, a string of diamond yellows for Poland. She winds up a tension. And Berlin ticks inwards, becomes a city breathless, a gasp of dust where Volkswagens are specks, circling crazily. But there is nothing to fear. Not now. The cats have had their fill - only pawprints lead through snow down to the mouths of alleys. A white-gloved claw is on the kerb. The people walk round it, pull tight their collars. Eventually, from a windowbox in Charlottenburg Palace, a single petal of phlox will bear down into the shallow cup of its palm with all the weight of a snowflake.

[kanayawait]

the bright pink cast with ladybug and pawprint doodles

Note: this was a commission from the amazing @wombatking !! the prompt was a reveal scenario where marinette breaks her leg during a battle!! read it on ao3!!

    They were so close to catching the Akuma. She had been a tricky one to fight, having to dodge the bright green tendrils that stemmed from her dress. She had dark red hair, like a rose, with pink tinted skin and green freckles splashed across her cheeks. Her weapon was a shovel with a rather long handle that she used as a bat, which was assumedly was where the akuma resided. This had been their first plant based villian, much to Ladybug’s surprise. Chat Noir had made a few dozen puns about a bug in a garden. (He got hit in the stomach with the shovel after he made one about flowers.)

    They weren’t sure what had caused her to go evil. All they knew was that she was chasing after a couple of little kids, absolutely enraged. The superhero duo were able to get the kids to a safe place, and Chat went to distract Garden Girl while Ladybug talked to the them. It was hard to squeeze the truth out of them, they were scared and ashamed. Eventually the kids explained what happened: they had ruined someone’s garden while playing a game of football. Ladybug chided them lightly before running back to help her feline friend.

    The two had cornered her on a roof. Chat was deflecting the green stems with his baton as Ladybug activated her Lucky Charm. She blinked as a can of herbicide landed in her hand, completely baffled. Chat turned his head to look at her, an eyebrow raised.

    “Wow,” he commented, still turning the staff in his hands, “we’ve never had to kill an akuma before.”

    Ladybug rolled her eyes ask she scanned the scene. She could spray the herbicide in Garden Girl’s face, and she would drop the weapon in pain. Then, Chat could snatch up the shovel and destroy it. Then, she could capture the akuma and they would be finished, and call it a job well done. She felt bad that the girl would have to get injured, but once everything was fixed, she would be okay. Besides, she couldn’t let Hawkmoth win and take their miraculous. Who knows what kind of chaos would ensue.

    “Cover me!” She yelled as she ran towards the villain, spray at the ready. Once she was close enough, she sprayed a thick cloud of the can’s contents, the villain dropping the shovel to rub at her eyes. She grinned at another successful plan, but it was soon wiped from her face as the tendrils started to flail. One caught Ladybug in the stomach, and sent her flying. She landed on a neighboring roof, lower down than the one they were on. She attempted to land properly, but when she tried, she heard a sickening snap. She fell to the ground and clutched her ankle.

    “My lady!” Chat cried as he ran to the edge of the roof, peering over.

    “Don’t worry about me! Destroy the shovel!”

    He nodded and ran back to the girl, and Ladybug heard his cry of “Cataclysm!” as she hoisted herself up into a standing position. Using her yo-yo, she was able to get herself back onto the roof, just in time to cleanse the akuma. She half-heartedly said her catchphrases as she threw the shovel into the air, the magic fixing everything that had been broken during the battle. Exhausted, she carefully sat herself down on the roof, wrapping her hands tightly around her ankle. If only Miraculous Ladybug would fix that too…

    Chat Noir rushed to her side once the battle was over, unsure hands hovering over her. He noticed her hands gripped around her ankle and frowned deeply.  He shooed her hands away and winced when he saw her ankle was broken.

    “Ladybug.. We should get you to the hospital.” He said, helping her get to her feet.

    “I’ll be fine,” she insisted through gritted teeth, “I can get myself to the hospital. Besides, I’m about to detransform, and you know we can’t see each other out of costume.”

    “But your ankle is broken! Can’t we make an acception for this? You could use my staff as a crutch.”

    “I’ll be fine, Chat. It’s not too far away from here. I can get there by myself. You should help the girl get back home. You’re going to detransform soon, too.”

    Defeated, the blond went to help the other girl to her feet. She looked thoroughly confused, and a sudden look of guilt overcame her as Chat explained what happened. Ladybug watched as he scooped her up and leap off the building with the help of his staff. Once the two disappeared from sight, she swung her way down to the ground.

    On the ground she detransformed, Tikki dropping into her lap. Marinette produced a cookie from her bag (she recently had started to carry them around with her), and handed it to the fairy. Tikki ate quickly, a great look of concern on her face.

    “Oh Marinette! I’m so sorry! How is your ankle?” She spoke as soon as she finished the cookie.

    “It’s broken, but thankfully the hospital is close.” Marinette replied, already hobbling in the direction of the hospital. Tikki flew after her.

    “What are you going to tell your parents?”

    The twin-tailed girl stopped in her tracks, her face falling. What was she going to tell her parents? “Hi mom! Hi dad! I was fighting an evil flower villain, and I got knocked off a roof! I’m at the hospital. Can you come pick me up?” No, that would never work. She hated the idea of it, but she would need to come up with a well thought out lie to tell them. She was rather clumsy, so they would believe it if she said she tripped and fell… but over what? Where? She couldn’t have just tripped over a pebble. She could say that she fell down a flight of stairs. There were plenty for her to fall on. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too worried about her...

    “I’ll tell them that on the way home from school I fell down a flight of stairs.”

    “Are you sure they will believe that?”

    “Of course they will, Tikki. You know how clumsy I am.”

    Marinette dragged herself to the hospital, and one of the nurses called her parents. They came as soon as they can, closing up shop for her. Her mom fussed over her, giving Marinette a big hug. Her dad joined in, nearly crushing her ribs. She explained the story about falling down the stairs to both her parents and the doctor. It was confirmed she did, in fact, break her ankle with a couple of x-rays. She was given a bright pink cast and a pair of crutches, and sent back home.

    Her dad helped her up to her room when they arrived back at their home. She lied back on her bed, letting her eyes slip shut. All Marinette wanted to do was go to sleep. Surely her teachers would understand why she didn’t do her homework. Tikki flew out of her bag and nestled up by her shoulder, and suddenly a new fear struck her.

    How was she going to fight akumas when she had a broken ankle? There’s no way Hawkmoth would just wait until her ankle healed. She needed to be able to fight. She had to cleanse the akumas. When she hadn’t, dozens of Stonehearts popped up all over the place. And Chat Noir couldn’t fight by himself. It was a team effort. She’d hate to leave him helpless with a villain he couldn’t defeat. Or worse, mind controlled. He could get his miraculous stolen…

    She took a deep breath. No, she’d figure it out. Chat Noir would have to do more of the heavy lifting, and she would have to either swing around, but that would be a challenge with the heavy cast, or sit stationary somewhere She supposed she would have to call him about that tomorrow and figure out what to do. They’d work it out, they always could.

    She fell asleep to a mind full of active thoughts.

    In the morning, Marinette was able to successfully get herself downstairs and seated for breakfast. Alya had come that morning to help her get to school, having heard the news the previous day. She carried her bag for her, lightly scolding her clumsy friend about being more careful. Marinette just smiled sheepishly. If only she could tell Alya about what really happened.

    It took a little longer than usual to get to school, but they still made it with plenty of time to spare. They found an empty bench, settling themselves down on it. Every so often someone from their class would walk up to them and ask what happened, then to sign her cast. She had a handful of names and “get well soon” notes in various colors of Sharpies after only a few minutes.

    “Don’t look now. Here comes dream boy,” Alya piped up, lightly shoving her side. Marinette’s cheeks flushed pink, and she went to hide her face in her sketchbook. Adrien couldn’t see her like that!

    The blond walked past the two, a smile on his face. “Good morning Alya. Good morning… Marinette?” He stopped in his tracks in front of the two, an eyebrow raised. Marinette slowly lowered the book from her face, smiling sheepishly. His eyes trailed to her cast and he frowned. Then, as if something clicked in his head, his eyes widened. She swore she saw him blush, though she might have just been seeing things.

    “May I sign your cast?” Adrien asked as soon as he recovered, taking a black Sharpie from the stack.

    “O-Of course!” Mariette stuttered, forcing herself to shut her mouth before she said anything else embarrassing in front of her crush.

    He uncapped the Sharpie and bent down to doodle a small ladybug on the cast, filling in the black dots. For good measure, he drew a pawprint beside the bug, and sat up straight when he was done. Marinette’s eyes widened, and she snapped her head up to meet his eyes. Blue eyes stared into green, holding the gaze until Alya cleared her throat, a puzzled expression on her face.

    “Uh, Marinette. Do you think-” Adrien started, cut off by the sound of the bell ringing. “-I could talk to you for a minute at lunch?”

    “Yes. Meet me here?” She replied, confidence seeping into her voice.

    He nodded, and Nino appeared behind him, the two heading off to class together. Alya helped Marinette up, questioning her on what had happened between the two of them. The secret superheroine shrugged it off, only replying in vague answers. She was in absolute shock.

    Marinette had a hard time focusing in her classes. All she could think about was the fact Adrien knew she was Ladybug, and the fact that he was probably Chat Noir. It was hard to wrap her mind around it. How could the so-cool model be a dorky pun-making cat? Then again, she had noticed instances when Adrien would make puns, and the two were both very kind and caring. They both had blond hair and green eyes. Whenever Chat Noir appeared, Adrien was mysteriously somewhere else...

    She found herself growing more and more impatient was it grew closer and closer to lunchtime. She had been scolded a couple of times for not paying attention or doing her work, but she couldn’t seem to work on it. She tried her hardest to distract from the wild thoughts in her head, and instead to focus on answering the questions on the paper in front of her. Though, every attempt was fruitless, her mind always wandering back to Chat Noir and Adrien.

    Adrien being Chat Noir meant that he… liked her, didn’t it? Chat was always flirting with her when she was Ladybug. Did Adrien like Marinette as well? Or did he find her silly and annoying? Marinette had never really fancied Chat. He was too cocky and flirty, but she loved the soft side of Adrien. The two together was the perfect balance. And now that she knew that Adrien was secretly her dorky partner, she wasn’t really afraid to talk to him anymore. Chat wasn’t scary, and if he was a part of her crush, well that was fine with her. She could accept that.

    Finally the bell rang, and if she didn’t have the cast, she would have jumped out of her seat and ran to the bench. Though, she was forced to go slow, using her crutches. Alya carried her backpack, a wide grin spread across her face. She teased her friend all the way to the meeting spot where Adrien was waiting. Alya set down her bag on the bench, and quickly scurried off.

    “Good afternoon, my lady.” Adrien took her hand in his, bending down to kiss it.

    Marinette’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, it taking a minute to calm down. “Good afternoon, chaton.”

    “So it’s you.”

    “It’s you.”

    There was a small pause before the two both burst into laughter, Marinette having to sit down in fear of falling again. Adrien plopped down on the bench beside her once he began to calm down, regarding her with a warm smile. She returned the look, both of their cheeks pink.

    “I’m sorry.” Marinette giggled. “I just.. You’re the last person I expected to be Chat Noir.”

    “Why? Am I not as handsome in costume?” He teased, causing her to roll her eyes. He continued, “I suspected that you were Ladybug.”

    “Really?”

    “Yeah. Both in and out of costume you’re really kind and a great leader. Plus, the pigtails.”

    “I guess that’s pretty obvious. But didn’t you think Ladybug was Chloe at one point?”

    “The reporters thought so too!”

    Marinette opened her mouth to tease him more (“What? Did you think that I suddenly grew long blonde hair?”) when she felt her bag moving. She opened her purse and Tikki flew out, spinning in the air. Adrien grinned and opened his jacket to let Plagg out, who flew over to his ladybug friend. The two fairies hugged.

    “Finally!” Plagg complained. “It took you two forever to figure that out. I don’t understand how! She looks exactly like Ladybug!”

    “Yeah, Marinette! I would think you would know your crush well enough to recognize him with a mask and messy hair.” Tikki chimed in.

    “Tikki!” The black haired girl yelped, blushing a bright shade of red. The ladybug fairy said a quick apology, a guilty look on her features.

    “Crush?” Adrien blinked, glancing to the girl sitting beside him. She nodded quickly, but said nothing else. She supposed she still wasn’t quite brave enough to confess something like a crush. Adrien nodded in understanding, pushing off the bench. He stood and held his hand out for her, that warm smile on his face. “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

    Marinette took a deep breath, having to convince herself that she wasn’t, in fact, dreaming. That her crush was secretly a huge dork that liked making puns and asked her out for lunch. She took his hand and pulled herself up, grabbing her crutches.

    “I would love to.” She replied.

[swan-archive]

6 and alex/laurens with a healthy dose of shapeshifter au if you so choose

6. I have loved since you.  But when the new paint gets scratched, there you are underneath. (My heart is layers of scar.)

“Your son’s trying on another face,” says Eliza with a wry smile the moment Alex steps through the door. “Just a heads-up, when you go upstairs. Don’t be too surprised.”

“Oh, he’s my son today, is he?” Alex sets down his papers on the end table before kissing Eliza on the cheek. “I thought we decided he takes after you. Hi, darling, by the way, it’s good to be home.”

“He’s always your son when he’s misbehaving,” says Eliza, accepting the kiss. “Especially when it’s…” She makes a vague gesture, wiggling her fingers. “…that sort of misbehaving.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Do you know, he managed to get into your office this morning? I put him down for a nap and went to go tidy up and next thing I know he’s rummaging through your desk.”

“Got in under the door, I assume?”

“He must have, it was locked when I heard him in there.” She frowns, goes a little pale. “Unless he’s figured out how to get inside the walls…”

“I’m sure he hasn’t. It’s much harder to go that small and stay that small than it looks,” says Alex soothingly. “Besides, it’s not as if there’s much trouble for him to get into in there. Worst-case scenario, he’d get in, get stuck, and we’d have to cut a hole in the wall to pull him out.”

“Yes, thank you, that’s very comforting, Alexander.”

“At least he distracted himself with the face thing, though, right?”

“Mm. This one’s a new one, he seems quite fond of it. He’s been wearing it all day. I can’t think where he would’ve picked it up, I swear I’ve seen it before but I just don’t know who…”

“Probably just playing around. You know how children are. As long as it looks a little like us, right?” Eliza grimaces. “…That bad, huh? Well, don’t blame me for being optimistic. I’ll have to have a talk with him.”

“Please do. It’s not terrible, but it’ll be…well, difficult to explain. If you can get him to change it…”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you.” Eliza bites her lip. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly. It’s just, he’s almost four, I’d really thought him settled, and now this happens. We can’t keep him hidden forever.”

“I know. I know.” Alex kisses her again, moves a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’ll be fine. I’ll talk to him. It’s just a phase, I’m sure. Like his other phases. Remember the eyestalks? We thought he’d never grow out of those.”

“How could I possibly forget?” Eliza says with a little laugh. “The first time I walked into the bedroom and saw him watching me over the side of the cradle—”

“I’ve never heard you scream so loudly. But he doesn’t do that anymore! Well, hardly ever. It’ll be just the same. You’ll see.”

“I hope so.” Eliza jerks her head toward the top of the stairs. “He’s up in the nursery with Angie. She just fell asleep, so try not to scold too loudly, will you?”

“I would never,” he says, pressing a hand over his heart and starting up the stairs. “I’ll make sure Phil’s not getting into the walls while I’m at it, how’s that sound?” Eliza snorts and shoos him away, and he hurries up to the landing, turns the corner, and enters the nursery.

“Where’s my boy?”

“Papa!” A small figure crashes into him and seizes him around the waist, buries its face in his coat.

“Hi, Phil.” Alex strokes Philip’s hair, gone to a mess of loose curls. Ooh, he’s already understanding what Eliza was worried about. Might be difficult to explain those away, if anyone sees, although they could always say Philip is taking after his Grandpapa Schuyler. That’s where Angelica and Peggy get their curls, right?

But he’ll deal with Philip’s face in a moment, can always make some sort of game of it to make it easier for Philip to swallow. First, the unpleasant business. “Phil, your Mamma told me you were in Papa’s office today.” Philip’s shoulders tense up guiltily. “You wanna tell me what you were doing in there?”

“I wasn’t, I didn’t…” Philip says, before trailing off into unintelligible mumbles. He burrows his face a little deeper into Alex’s coat.

“I can’t understand you, Philip. Look at Papa when you’re talking to him, please.”

Philip takes a long, shaky breath, but loosens his grip, looks up at him with his little jaw set stubbornly, and his eyes—

—his eyes—

“Papa?” says Philip, from a long way off, Alex can hardly hear him over the dreadful thunder of his own heart. His legs give out and he falls to his knees, so his face is on a level with (not Philip’s face, that is not Philip’s face). He reaches out with one hand but can’t quite bring himself to touch. The features softer, obscured by baby fat and Philip’s inexpert mimicry, but it’s the same face, the same shape of the nose, the same framing of dark curls, the same pattern of freckles, the same eyes.

Those eyes. That precise and striking shade of hazel. Oh, he knows those eyes.

“Philip,” Alex says, very faintly, “where did you see that face?”

Philip shakes his head. Frightened tears starting to gather in those hazel eyes. Alex would like to throw up.

“Where. Did you. See it.”

“I, it was, in your office, I didn’t mean to,” squeaks Philip. He’s starting to lose his grip on the shape in his confusion and fear, and the freckles begin to crawl over his face, his eyes wide and doubled-tripled-quadrupled in shining clusters. “I’m sorry, Papa, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

Alex isn’t listening. He stands, and turns, and stumbles out of the room, down the hallway to his office. Fumbles at the knob. Locked, Eliza must’ve locked it back up after she got Philip out—without even taking the time to consider fetching the keys, Alex dissolves, spills to the ground in a nightmare of boneless limbs, squirms out of his suit and squeezes himself through the crack between the door and the floor. Just like Philip. Philip in a mischievous mood, Philip sneaking into his office and going through his Papa’s desk just for fun, maybe accidentally finding the false bottom of the second drawer down on the right hand side, reaching in—

Alex coalesces into something vaguely bipedal and staggers over to his desk. Babyish scribbles and inky fingerprints-pawprints on the blotter. Papers shuffled around. The second drawer on the right pulled out, its false bottom half pushed back down. 

And there, sitting on the edge of the desk, as though Alex himself had left it there, the miniature of Laurens.

Oh, god.

Your fault, Alex says to himself, collapsing into his chair. Your fault, your fault, why didn’t you hide that better, why did you keep it at all, why do you still have it if it hurts so much to see?

Why does it still hurt so much to see?

He hadn’t gone to the funeral. Simply not enough time to make the trek down to South Carolina, even if there hadn’t been the baby and his work to think about. He hadn’t seen the body. Gave the whole thing an air of unreality. If he’d worked hard enough, during those horrible months after receiving Henry Laurens’ letter, he could convince himself that it was all just a horrible dream, that this was just one of their periodic separations, and wasn’t it typical of John, not to have the courtesy to send a letter once in a while. 

It had always been easier to tolerate those times, before, with something to distract him, so distract he had: thrown himself into studying, and writing, and loving his new family with as much of his heart as he could spare. Still that little sliver that belonged to John, but surround it with enough other stuff and he could—forget about it. For a while.

But now there’s a ghost in his home, and Alex feels like he’s betrayed John in the worst way, even though he knows, logically, that John is far beyond caring. See how I lock you away where no one will ever know what you were to me, see how I never let your name cross my lips, see how quickly and how well I forget. See how I give your face to my son, overwrite the last of your legacy with my own. 

Soon it will be like you never existed at all.

“Papa?”

Philip has followed him under the door, is standing there tugging at a lock of his curly hair as his body wavers back to human. John’s frown on his lips, the sad, tentative cast to it just like when John would come to Alex after a fight in which he’d known he was in the wrong. Alex can barely look at him without wanting to scream.

“I’m sorry, Papa, I know I was wrong, I can be in trouble. I shouldn’t’ve opened it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can go to my room.” A fresh wave of tears starts to roll down his cheeks, but he doesn’t run and hide or try to argue. “It’s my fault—”

“Oh, Philip.” Alex closes the distance between them and gathers Philip up in an odd assortment of arms, holds him close. “No, sweetheart, this isn’t your fault, not at all, you’re not in trouble—well, no, you shouldn’t have gone into Papa’s office without his permission, you shouldn’t have gone through my things, that was wrong. But it’s okay, I don’t care, just never do it again, promise?”

“I promise, Papa,” Philip snuffles into Alex’s shoulder.

“And one more thing,” Alex draws back, cups Philip’s face, looks into John’s eyes, trying to ignore the ache in his heart at the tears on those familiar lashes. “You mustn’t wear that face anymore, do you understand me?”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s—it’s not—you remember, you remember how Mamma and Papa told you, not everyone can change like us? Not everyone can wear different faces. And most little boys—little boys who can’t change—look like their parents. So if you don’t look like Mamma and Papa, people won’t like it, people might start to ask questions, and that would be bad, because people can’t know you and I are like this—” 

And it might kill me to see John’s face in my home, every day, and be reminded every time that he’s really, truly gone, but of course he can’t say that. 

He seizes the shreds of his self-control and drags himself back to two arms, two legs, normal human face. “Can you change with me, Phil? Just try to look like Papa. That’s it.” Philip scrunches his face up, concentrating, and the curls fall out of his hair, the freckles fade to a faint scattering just over his cheeks, the lines blur and shift. When he opens his eyes, they’ve gone a safe dark brown. Like Alex’s. Like Eliza’s.

“Did I do it right, Papa?” Philip asks.

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s just right,” says Alex, breathing out in a dizzy rush of relief. He plants a kiss on Philip’s forehead. “That’s perfect. Now, can you remember that this is what you ought to look like? That—that other face—that it isn’t you? Can you do that for me?”

The hazel has already started to bleed back into Philip’s eyes.

“I’ll try, Papa.”