#surrounded by pointed but curious question marks

[completeoveranalysis]

[5]

OK SPLASH ART BREAK TIME

Clamp celebrate the exploration of Fai’s backstory in Seresu by giving us a procession of thematically appropriate chapter covers. Can you guess the theme just kidding it’s twins!

It’s gorgeous and heartbreakingly appropriate, but we also get some really interesting match ups the further we get. 

The Chis, The Fais, The Mokonas, and The Syaorans are all nice and clear. 10/10 no complaints. Poignant. Thematic. Gorgeous.

 But then we get Sakura.

Who is essentially functioning as her own twin in this scenario, with her soul and body are in separate places. Definitely close enough to be counted for this series of covers anyway. Twin theme: accepted!

A bit later we also get Kurogane, with twin swords. Does this count? I say YES.

Because this sword is unique, so there being two of them is an interesting sight. This isn’t a literal scenario (Though it could be! The multiverse being the way it is). The sword instead counts for a few things - Kurogane’s family, his goals for the future, and where he belongs. He already has one for Nihon, representing his parents and Tomoyo, but now he has another - for his new family. The fact that he gets BOTH mirrors the conviction he expressed in Acid Tokyo, where he’s working towards two goals now, and has two families to protect. 

But there are others! Here’s one with Lava Lamp and Watanuki. 

And their relationship is: a complete mystery. I don’t know how they’re related yet. BUT AN INTERESTING PLACE IN THE SEQUENCE FOR THIS COVER TO SHOW UP DON’T YOU THINK? What an interesting implication.

Does this necessarily mean anything? Not really! Do I want it to? Yes! Should you tell me? Absolutely not!

Here’s one more to really confuse the theme a little more, with Kyle Rondary and Xing Huo. 

Who’s relationship is also completely and utterly undefined in a way that defies me entirely. 

But that’s our twins parade for today! Featuring; literal twins, metaphorical twins, and complete and utter mysteries! 

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Tim as a child was never given a lot of information regarding the scribbling messy handwriting that appeared over night all over his arms- naturally he came to his own conclusions.

Tim Drake was home entirely alone at 9 years old and was about to go out for the night to test his brand new long exposure camera lens when he sees the writing on his arm. It’s not English, like he assumed it was at first, but it was using the alphabet to represent… Tim isn’t bad at math but this formula is complex for his little genius brain.

Looking at his camera, he decides he can spare a moment to look it up, solve it, and get back out into old town Gotham in time for Batman and Robin’s final patrol lap. He does just that, finding the problem to relate to some aerospace engineering and then quickly deduces what laws and theorems need to be applied. He finds a pen, writes down his findings in much neater handwriting onto his arm, and goes out. It’s barely a remarkable night at all. He gets a much more memorable photo of Robin roundhouse kicking a hench person.

Things just continued on that way. Tim would find some complex math, physics or chemistry prompt on his arm (surrounded by various question marks or notes or sad faces)- he’d answer it as best he could and move on with his life. Perhaps his parents were manifesting these pop quizzes? Perhaps his subconscious felt guilty about abandoning his studies for more Bat related pursuits? Tim really didn’t care to think much about it once he became Robin- there was too much on his plate and too many peoples problems for him to fix.

Notably, however, after the attack at the Tower, the pop quiz appeared and Tim wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to find an answer to this one. It was the only time Tim questioned the markings appearance and it was because the next thing that appeared was “Hope you feel better soon.”

… his parents wouldn’t include that on a pop quiz. Cursed then. Tim decided it must be a curse, whatever, he’d deal with the implications later in life.

Tim then has the worst year of his life, hes 15, no longer Robin and the questions from his curse are getting less math oriented and more… philosophical. A lot of mentions of death that, in hindsight helped him actually grieve, and a lot of theories about dark matter and souls. Tim answers back as best he can but he’s drained and his answers aren’t very good in his opinion. He gets minimal feedback.

It all comes to a point that he’s at a family dinner, Bruce is at the head of the table, Jason has promised just to stay for dessert, Damian hasn’t thrown a single insult his way and Steph was laughing at him- when a new theoretical model appears on his arm.

“You’re just as bad as Bruce, Timberly. Hiding a soulmate from all of us, how fucking typical.” Jason points out, while watching Tim scribble back some math with a question mark onto his arm.

“A what? No, this is just a curse. I get pop quizzes every now and then.” Tim bats away Steph who rapidly approaches and began to analyze his arm (the rest of the family isn’t far behind).

“Drake. Explain how you came to this conclusion.” Damian seems more curious than anything, if his lack of insults was anything to go off of.

“Since I was young I’ve had at least weekly math check ins, I never had a parent or anyone else around so I assumed my parents had me cursed to ensure I stayed on top of my studies. Sometimes it’s physics or chemistry, for a while there it was a ton of philosophy and behavioral psychology.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Master Tim, I believe the lack of adults in your life has led you towards a false conclusion. That is most certainly a soulmate mark. The individual to whom you are responding is undoubtedly your other half.” Alfred attempts to calm the room before explaining to Tim. Tim isnt sure if he believes the butler, though Alfred only very rarely lied, so he grabs the pen once more. He writes his first question back: “Who am I to you?”

The room waits in anticipation and within moments a brand new line appears on Tim’s arm and he is vindicated: “We do math together???”

——

The reason Danny is failing English is because his built in homework helper sucks ass at metaphors and has apparently never read any classic literature. The tutor on his arm is great at puzzles and math tho.

Danny gets a reply back one night that he wasn’t expecting (Who am I to you?) and he mentions it to Jazz. Who goes insane that Danny didn’t even question it and just went with “meh, probably haunted” as his explanation for the phenomenon for all these years.

Apparently, if Jazz was right, he had a soulmate who was uh, super fucking smart. That was an overwhelming thought.

The next day Danny is in crisis mode and writes back “Wait, WHAT AM I TO YOU??? Can I help on your homework??”

Danny gets vindicated when the writing on his arm presents a shit ton of dates and information for an unsolved Gotham cold case. See, Haunted.

———

Eventually between Danny becoming the top candidate for astrophysics at Wayne Enterprises and Tim Drake being outed as having contributed tips to the GCPD that solved cold cases- they meet and realize just how dumb they’ve been.

[sanipoyo]

THEIR KID ASKING ABOUT THEIR FACIAL MARKS & SCARS

note - jujutsu kaisen, fluff.

INUMAKI had just came home from work, excited to see his two favorite people. when he entered the door, his jacket was unzipped enough to see the unique markings on his face. these marks were not a new sight to your son but for some reason, he had a million questions about them. “dad, what are those from? who gave you that? why does it look like that? can i get those when i get bigger?”, he spouted and all toge could do was smile and nod as you tried to answer all your sons’ questions for him.

TOJI has a major soft spot for his daughter. he finds himself sitting at a small table surrounded by stuffed animals drinking invisible tea. your daughter comes around with a cloth, wiping all her toys faces ‘clean’ the sides of their mouth. “your turn!” she exclaimed as she approaches her dad, aggressively rubbing his face with the cloth. she kept wiping toji’s scar, as if she was trying to wipe it clean off of his face. “okay. okay. it’s all clean now.” he grumbles and your daughter examines her father’s face. “what is that”, she asks pointing at the scar on his lip. “it’s a battle wound.” toji exaggerates, causing your daughter to light up. she begins asking a bunch of questions about the ‘battle wound’ and she even wants one of her own. 

SUKUNA’s daughter sat in between you and him. you both were doing your own thing and your daughter was watching a show on the tv. per usual, she starts messing her with her dad; pinching his cheeks, putting his hair into ponytails, etc. she grabs his face with both of her hands and squeezes his lips together so he looks like a fish. this caused sukuna to set his book aside and finally pay attention to her. your daughter begins to trace the marks on her dads’ face, instantly getting full of curiosity. “did you draw on yourself?” she blurts out and you can’t help but to laugh as sukuna shoots you a glare. “this is just a part of my face.” he replies blandly and your daughter shrugs and continues being a nuisance towards him.

“this is so cool!” CHOSO’s son exclaimed as he looked at himself in the mirror. he is developing a blood mark similar to his dad’s going across the bridge of his nose. choso smiles and examines the mark himself. although the mark is somewhat like his own, it still has it’s own uniqueness to it. “what is it?” your son asks, he never really thought to ask about it since it didn’t seem like a big deal to him but since he’s starting to have one of his own, he’s curious about it. “i’ll explain to you one day. just know, only the coolest people get one” choso replies, causing your son to cringe at his dads’ use of his lingo. “you are not cool.” his son responds, choso silently gasps and begins to sulk at his sons’ cruel remark. you will be hearing about this later on.

Ⓒ all published work belongs to sanipoyo! do not copy/plagirize.

[frostbitebakery]

LOUD.

the mania is taking hold on us, sorry

“Okay,” Cody yields, “Kamino isn’t anything like this.”

Obi-Wan’s grin is blooming in the crinkles around his eyes and Cody is led away from the— the obstacle course that calls itself night market, Obi-Wan’s fingers warm where they’re wrapped around Cody’s hand.

Obi-Wan walks backwards, his free hand busy signing while he deftly avoids any of the, Cody guesstimates, trillion people out and about on a busy Coruscant night.

Cody can’t look away.

There are no harsh turns or stops. No almost crashes. It’s almost, almost eerie, that otherworldliness. Obi-Wan is not concerned with looking where he’s going, still backwards. No, he’s seemingly fully occupied with telling Cody about the time he first tried takolumi, a “boldly fascinating dish, culturally significant although they do not particularly care how you eat it as long as you know some form of self-defense”.

He leads them around the masses of people like a walk on the beach and Cody can’t stop looking away.

The takeaway bag is rather hefty at this point and Cody adjusts the paper straps digging into the creases of his fingers. There’s a healthy spot of grease growing dark on the bottom of the bag and yet it doesn’t rip. Somehow no one has yet bumped into him either which would probably rank higher in the miracle list than surviving an encounter with Grievous if Obi-Wan’s hand wouldn’t sprinkle in strange gestures now and then.

To Cody’s embarrassment it took him three flat palms and a sideways motion so seamlessly flowing with Obi-Wan’s silent voice to notice that the people, kids, bags, and carts about to encounter the durasteel wall that is a clone’s body didn’t make impact.

“Too much?”

The question catches him off guard. To Obi-Wan’s credit, he looks more curious than concerned, expecting and trusting Cody to speak up if anything makes him uncomfortable.

He quickly shakes his head. It’s… refreshing, to be honest. The brass and natborn personnel act and rule as if they can’t think for themselves, like they’re on the very base of AI. The public are torn between disdain, fascination, and pity, thinking they know what rights the clones truly deserve in their protests. In the darkest hours after a campaign Cody avoids the holo news like the plague, skin breaking out in hives at the hypocrisy of people wanting to heroically save the clones while wanting to settle them in the furthest, most unwanted parts of the Galaxy.

Cody is aware that their upbringing is anything but traditional, that it’s doused with instilling loyalty to the Republic and, relatedly, to the Jedi as their commanding officers. The real problem took root when they were finally introduced to the Jedi and got treated like people instead of soldiers.

Cody is glad to die for these people when his time comes. And he knows, watching Obi-Wan’s fingers and eyes speak shapes and stories, they do not hesitate to lay down their lives for them either.

He stops. Can’t not stop. Feet frozen to the ground as the realization truly hits its mark in him.

Surrounded by the center of the Galaxy, the mix of every people and culture in one place, the mundane life, shouts and laughter and yelling and music and more laughter, surrounded by Obi-Wan’s warmth, his stories, his… his everything standing for the Jedi…

They would die for each other without hesitation.

“Cody?”

He watches the people around them unconsciously giving them space, walking around them.

“One minute,” he signs back in battle sign, keeps staring at Obi-Wan who switches from growing concern to wide eyes to lowering his gaze sheepish and pleased and blushing.

Cody wants to save him and be saved by him. Wants to end the war just to know they’re both alive for another morning.

He tugs at Obi-Wan’s hand, pulls him closer like he is the one weaving a spell. He reaches up, swipes the hood from Obi-Wan’s head. Feels the soft strands of ginger hair curling around his fingers as he leans up.

Their foreheads gently touch, push together until it’s one warmth shared, one breath shared, and it’s more than the everything Cody hadn’t had known he could dream about before meeting the Jedi.

“I know,” is tapped against his bottom lip and Cody pushes that much closer into Obi-Wan’s space.

Obi-Wan leans back after a too short eternity, meeting Cody’s eyes without flinch or hesitation even if there’s a guardedness in them now he can’t hide fast enough from Cody’s training. “Come on. I want to show you how to best clog your arteries and I know just the place for that.”

“I’m not,” the words trip out of him before Obi-Wan can turn away from him. “I’m,” he doesn’t have the words to explain but he knows, instinctively, if he doesn’t say something now, Obi-Wan will pull away from him. Obi-Wan’s fingers still in Cody’s hand have already started slipping away like water and sand and air.

“Death, yet the Force,” Cody signs hurriedly, hands jerking after the movements he’s seen Obi-Wan do during his meditation.

Obi-Wan stills, expression neutral.

“I honor your Code,” he says. “I honor your voice,” he signs. Watches his own heart pound and Obi-Wan’s shoulders loosen. His hand is solid in Cody’s once more.

“Come on. I want to watch Dex fuss over you.”

[A few months later, a daring plan later with prices too high and yet. Obi-Wan will help Quinlan once he’s back on Coruscant. But for now he’s carried away by a rescue shuttle from an exploding Malvolence to hopefully be fetched out of space soon. Even if a satisfied like loth cat Cody is a sight to behold. All the confidence of a Commander knowing what he’s doing and reaping the victory.]

Cody is warm against his back when the Force cries out, lashes its despair into Obi-Wan’s mind like a whip.

The moment he startles awake from the light doze, Cody’s arms around him tighten into a vice.

“There you are,” Cody says, hisses like a satisfied snake and it’s his voice but not and Obi-Wan is too tired and exhausted after dealing with Grievous and wrapping the Malvolence like a gift for Mace and Cody, Cody, Cody—

“I am arresting you for treason against the Emperor,” Cody continues, empty and hollow now and what the kriffing stars is going on.

“Let go,” he taps against Cody’s thigh and is put on his front for the trouble, arms pulled behind his back roughly.

It clicks with the first handcuff that— Cody

Cody

Cody

Cody has betrayed him.

Before the second click, Obi-Wan bucks up, turns, and he’s got the length of the cuffs around Cody’s neck. Kicks into Cody’s knee and his weight into the make-shift garrote to put him to unconsciousness and buy Obi-Wan crucial time to think.

Mind churning, whirling, puzzling, how could Cody do this, who’s driving him to do this, how could Obi-Wan not see—

Cody falls back into him, grips Obi-Wan’s hand holding one cuff link, grips it hard, and hits against Obi-Wan’s other still cuffed arm.

The cuff’s chain breaks, so does Obi-Wan’s wrist, and playing nice is over.

It’s glimpses that follow, shimmering in the despair of Obi-Wan fighting for his life, for Cody’s life who’s fighting and moves against every self-sustaining instinct, not caring when Obi-Wan pleads with him, barely flinching when Obi-Wan dislocates his knee to get away.

Running up the hull of the rescue ship and he’s snatched out of the air by an arm around his waist, thrown down on his back and the air waves at him on the way out of his lungs.

Cody’s hand on the front of his coat, pulling him up up up and he’s hurled back into the floor with prejudice. Cody wants to exhaust his damaged airways and lungs, maybe break his back while he’s at it, and he’s doing an admittedly incredible job of it.

On the next pull up, Obi-Wan slings his legs around Cody’s arm, heels crossed over his shoulder, and with additional strength provided by the Force he throws Cody over his center point, lets him crash into the floor, hoping to afflict some kind of damage to the damned armor.

The armor.

It’s a beacon flaring in the dark. The realization, the knowledge that is being shoved away by the Darkness even as clarity fights to reunite with him.

The armor. The neural connector.

Where was it. Helmet or backplate? He can’t remember why can’t he remember—

He gets a boot to his shin, a kick to the face as he falls forward and his priorities realign.

He needs to immobilize Cody or at the very least bring them both to the same disadvantage so he can think in the Darkness launching itself at him from all sides.

[foreingersgod]

can we get something about Caitlin like after a big win of hers and her girlfriend is on court with Caitlin being all over her? think like Taylor swift and travis after the Super Bowl

Miss Americana & The HeartBreak Prince(ss) . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: even if caitlin’s the center of attention, she can’t help but focus on you

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

caitlin had been preparing for this game for months, it felt. there seemed to be endless trainings, camps, and practices just to get her ready for this moment. of course, every game to caitlin was huge, but this? this game would mark the end of her collegiate career, would give her a championship title if iowa could pull it off.

and they did.

with a massive lead of 10 points, caitlin being the top scorer of the night. they had won effortlessly and earned the championship title.

you had watched from court side all night to see your girl play. you had been to every game to support her, but you typically resided farther into the crowd to stay reserved. but recently, with more and more attention falling on caitlin, you’ve become a major hit with the media. once caitlin became a well known basketball star, everyone was curious to know all about her life outside of the sport. this included the age old question: “who is she dating?”

very quickly, you were bombarded with attention. fans commented on her posts about you, interviewers asked her about her girlfriend, everyone wanted to know all about caitlin clark’s biggest cheerleader.

you really hadn’t minded all that much. the questions and inquires about you came across as sweet in your eyes, you were actually quite flattered that all these people wanted to get to know you. but even then it still had its downsides. upon caitlin’s managers request, you were to be in the eye of the public with caitlin as much as possible. this meant doing things like sitting court side for every game even if you didn’t particularly want to. caitlin, of course, loved the idea. she jumped at any opportunity to show you off and talk about you whenever she could. so to her, it was no problem.

once the game had ended, your hands red from clapping and cheeks sore from cheering, you watched as the team celebrated together. watching your girl hold that trophy with the biggest smile on her face was the most heartwarming thing. you let them have their moment before anxiously stepping onto the court to meet caitlin. perhaps it was the excitement from the win or maybe it was just the pure eagerness to see her, but you were practically running across the court to get to her.

“cait!” you shouted from a distance, trying to catch her attention from across the floor.

she spotted you in a split second. caitlin would recognize your voice from anywhere. quickly, she handed the trophy off to someone else, excusing herself from the conversation to go over to you. you met half way, caitlin scooping you up into her arms causing you to balance on your tip toes. her arms locked around you, nose burying itself into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent.

“hey baby” her lips curled into a smile that you could feel again your jawline.

“you were absolutely amazing” you maneuvered to take her face into your hands, admiring her face. sweat and messy hair included, she looked so radiant and beautiful. you pushed up the bill of her championship hat and brushed stray hairs away, allowing yourself to take in her full appearance. “I’ve never been so proud of someone in my life!”

“you don-” she wanted to protest humbly, but was rudely interrupted.

it was like a swarm of bees. interviewers and cameramen surrounded you, lights flashing and microphones being shoved into your faces. many of them were shouting incoherent questions all while trying to grab your attention. your sweet moment was ruined, it was time to face the crowd.

“caitlin, tell us about your big win!”

“is this your girlfriend? caitlin, over here!”

“the fans want to hear from the new it couple!”

they were all shouting, trying to get an ounce of attention from her. you could tell by the look on her face that she just wanted to ask them to leave, but you also knew she would rather endure the exhausting interviews than tell anyone ‘no’. so she swung her arm around your shoulder, causing you to stumble into her side, to keep you close to her.

“it was a really great game…” she began talking about the game, all the interviewers listening attentively.

caitlin spent quite a bit of time giving run downs and talking strategies for the game, letting people ask her questions about what it felt like to be in the spotlight. the whole time, though, her arms never left you. she would occasionally rub your arm to ease the anxiety of having all the cameras on you, maybe sometimes move down to your waist just to pull you in even closer.

you sort of zoned out, putting yourself in autopilot to avoid panicking over the lights and shouting journalists. nothing caitlin said to any one of them you really heard, but somewhere in the sea of questions, you heard your name.

“and who’s this here with you? is this YN?”

suddenly, you were back in the game, completely engaged in the conversation. you looked over to see caitlin smiling down at you with the most goofy grin.

“yea,” she said “yea this is my girlfriend, YN”

you looked out into the vastness of the cameras, all of them pointing at you, as you proffered a small smile. it was still a process, getting used to being the center of all the madness.

caitlin continued before anyone could ask you something, knowing you weren’t ready to answer any questions quite yet.

“she’s the one i owe all this to,” her arm squeezed you, reminding you to take a deep breath and relax “she’s by my side day and night, giving me all of her support. i wouldn’t be anywhere without her so for that, i dedicate this win to her”

leaning down closer to your level, caitlin’s hand cradled your jaw to pull you in for a gentle kiss. it caught you off guard realizing that she was openly being intimate with you in front of everyone. but you trusted her judgment, letting yourself relax into the kiss.

of course, everyone went crazy, all happy that they had media coverage of the popular couple.

this was going to be all over instagram tomorrow.

after a few more questions and a several pictures of you two standing side by side, they dispersed to pester some other players. it was finally just the you and caitlin again, able to have a moment to yourselves.

“getting a bit risky with that kiss, huh?” you draped your arms over her shoulders.

“had to let everyone know how much i love you s’all” she shrugged, pressing another delicate kiss to your forehead. “i’d never pass up an opportunity to show you off, you know that”

“i do” you said, smiling at her. despite all the chaos around you, people still buzzing with excitement, confetti still lingering in the air, endless fans, it still felt like just you. just you and caitlin immersed in each other. “i love you so much”

“i love you a thousand times more”

[neobomb]

give into things i (dont) want to [mark lee]

Toxic! (yandere ish) possessive/jealous! bsf!Mark x nerd! innocent!reader, hints of Jaemin x reader. Warnings: dark and triggering content, mature themes, toxic behaviour, manipulation, forcing??, inappropriate behaviour, MDNI, there will be smut in other parts First part of the give into things i (dont) want to series. [Pt.1] [Pt.2] Word Count: 1.1k Summary: Your best friend Mark doesn't like it when you go out on a date. © 2023 @neobomb. Unauthorized copying, translation, manipulation, or alteration of this work is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

“Who did you go on that date with?” Mark's voice was tinged with impatience. You paused, your attention torn between the problem sheet in front of you and his probing question.

“Seriously, Mark? Now’s not the time.” Your voice was weary, the familiar topic weighing on you.

“Look, Y/N, we’ve been inseparable since we were kids. I’m your best friend. You’re supposed to tell me everything.” His voice softened, his desperation evident. There was always a buzz of curiosity about you, mainly because dating was never your focal point. Your peers saw you as a diligent student, so engrossed in academics that romance was a distant thought.

Taking a deep breath, you met his eyes. “Okay, I’ll tell you. But promise you won’t overreact.” You knew Mark all too well. Over the years, you'd come to understand Mark's protective streak. It wasn't just about keeping suitors at bay; it was deeper than that. He was ever-present, casting a watchful eye over anyone who tried to get close. Sometimes, you wondered why you tolerated his constant presence, but a part of you appreciated the bond you two shared. After all these years, he stuck to you like glue.

“I went out on a date with Jaemin last friday when you were on your way back from Canada. He took me to his favorite café. That’s all.” you blurted out. For a moment, the room felt still, the weight of your words settling between you.

“I was just curious, you know.” he murmured, his gaze drifting to your lips. “I was away for two damn weeks and you’re already looking to replace me.” Confusion clouded your eyes as you met his gaze. A tangible hint of betrayal was evident in his expression. You could sense the tension building between the two of you. “Mark, don’t say it like that. You know that you’re irreplaceable to me.” The pain in his eyes was unbearable, and you wished you could take back your words. Regret surged through you for having shared that piece of information with him.

“I’ve come to realize that… I don’t even like him in that way. We're just planning to hang out as friends, that's all.” Even as the words left your lips, you knew Mark could see through them. That was a blatant lie, a desperate attempt to make the situation better. You’ve had a crush on Jaemin for ages, and you never expected him to ask you out. 

“Jaemin is the complete opposite of you. He’s too cocky and you’re very naive. He doesn’t deserve you.” A shadow of disappointment crossed Mark's face, his intense gaze making it difficult for you to meet his eyes.  

“You shouldn't surround yourself with people like him. He won’t ever be your true friend. Why isn't just having me in your life enough for you?“ A tear slowly fell from your eye out of sheer distress. The last thing you wanted was for Mark to feel undervalued. In truth, he meant more to you than words could express. No one knew you like he did. He would do anything for you. You did not deserve him. 

“I’m sorry, Mark,” you whispered. Gently, he cradled your face in his hand, brushing away the tear with his thumb. 

“You’re so pretty when you cry.” he murmured, his face moving closer. Just as your lips were almost brushing against each other, you turned your head, breaking free from his hold, refusing to give into whatever he desperately tried to manipulate you into. “You’re really hurting me, you know that, right?” he says in disappointment. 

"If by 'hurting you' you mean not letting you use this situation to manipulate me, then yes," you responded firmly, realizing the precariousness of the situation. The wetness of your tears was replaced by a steely resolve as you recognized the toxicity of his approach. “It’s both a blessing and a curse that we know each other so well” he smirked and continued to let silence fill the room for the next hour or two. 

"Did anything happen between you and Jaemin?" he asked, attempting to redirect the conversation and breaking the long comforting silence. “I bet he tried to kiss you.”

“No, I was too self conscious to let anything happen.” you responded, your pen moving steadily across your notebook, scribbling rounded shapes. 

“So you need someone you’re comfortable with. Someone you can fully trust.” he says in a husky voice while his hand grabs your thigh, slowly making moves up your thigh, playing with the hem of your skirt. 

“Mark, don’t-'' you stop him. Placing both of your hands on his, pushing it away from moving dangerously close to your inner thigh. “Y/N, give me one good reason why we can’t continue this.” He grips onto your wrist, making you stop in your tracks. “We’ve been through this many times, Mark. I can give you a million reasons.” 

“You say a lot of things, Y/N” he whispers to you softly, closing the distance between the two of you once again. Mark is tired of hearing your nonsense. He is resentful of the confines of the title 'best friend' you assigned him. He yearns for you to see beyond those constraints, to envision a future with him. He desperately wants to be more than your friend, yet the fear of confessing and potentially losing you holds him back. It has been holding him back for years. 

“None of your reasons can explain the look you give me. I mean, you don’t look at someone like that unless you’re in love, right?” Your cheeks flush, taken aback by his ability to see right through you. Breathless, you find yourself entranced as his eyes flit between your lips and your gaze. His grip held your thigh so tightly, nails digging into your sensitive skin. 

“I’m scared, Mark. This feels weird.” you say while desperately trying to look away from him. Your attempts would ultimately fail as he brings his hand to cup your chin, forcefully turning your face to meet his. His intense stare is making you shake to your core. 

“The panic in your face does wonders to me” he says as he finally presses his lips onto yours, kissing you roughly. His endless passion pouring into the kiss made you swallow your meaningless innocent pleas in between kisses. You were unaware of the depth of his yearning, blind to the years of unwavering devotion he had silently offered you. He has been longing for you for way too long. His patience has run out. 

[darkmajesty-xo]

18+ mdni | tw! monsterfucking, fae!izuku, dubcon, smut 𓂺

the veil between worlds is thinnest at years end, permitting traveling between realms. when you wished for adventure and excitement in the new year, you never expected to stumble into a new world. a beautiful grove with exotic wildlife and gorgeous vegetation. and you most certainly didn’t expect to have a spear pointed directly in your face.

“oh! you’re a human?”

Viridescent wings protruding from his back and pointed ears confirmed that he wasn’t.

The freakishly tall stranger drove his weapon into the ground before extending his scarred hand to help you up. Now, standing toe to toe, you got a better look at him.

He was beautiful. Lush leafy locs curled around his tanned face that was lined with emerald markings along his jawline. His verdant eyes resembled the groves budding flowers. The man had plump pink lips that curled into a breathtaking smile, revealing silver tipped fangs, and pretty freckles decorated his cheeks and bare torso.

He wore golden cuffs around his large biceps and a leather holster across his body that held multiple daggers, all varying in size. His lower half was covered with airy trousers that couldn’t have provided much protection from the breezy night air and his feet were bare.

“i— yes?”

“is that a question?”

He smirked a little. Then crossed his palms over the base of his spear to rest his cheek as he watched you.

You looked good— soft and pretty, but you smelled even better. It was an intoxicating scent that teased his budding frenzy.

“Are you not human ?” You ask, more confidently this time. He shakes his head “no” continuing to smirk at you. It was unnerving, especially with his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “Well..” you pause, not wanting to offend but still rather curious. “What are you?”

“I’m Izuku” he giggled, eyes glinting with mischief. “But you can call me whatever you’d like, pet”.

Your captor's name was Izuku Midoriya, and he is a faerie. A faerie warrior to be exact. He is the Fae King’s second in command and best friend, and he was only away from the palace due to his frenzy.

A frenzy is period in which a fae is overcome with extreme lust and the desire to breed. Primal instincts take over during this time and he prefers to spend them in solitude to avoid scandal.

This forest is his territory and personal haven granted to him by the royal family. Everything in it belongs to him, including you.

It wasn’t like Izuku to lay claim to another person, but it wasn’t every day that a human tumbles into his domain. He found you fascinating and the bourgeoning call to mate was impacting his lucidity.

He brought you to his forest den— a place where he went whenever he needed to convene with nature. As a forest faerie it was vital to his wellbeing. It was a large cave hidden behind a waterfall. A grand fire pit sat in the middle of the room surrounded by animal furs and soft pillows. There were bookshelves and chests filled with valuables and weapons against the walls as well as a wooden desk covered in notes.

He moved around the cavern pulling off his accessories at a languid pace, his large wings fluttering gracefully behind him leaving a trail of sparkly dust. He muttered casually about the messy state of things but you caught him watching you out the corner of his eye. It was like he was waiting for something.

“Are you cold, pet?” His arms circled your waist, pulling you against his broad chest. The impact made a flurry of sparkles tickle your nostrils, you inhaled deeply and felt yourself sway. “I’ve read that humans are more sensitive to climate than we fae. Here, lie by the fire”.

He moved your body like a doll, easily picking you up to place on a pile of pillows. He laid beside you, one hand trailing up to rest on your hip while his head rested on the other.

He spoke in soft whispers for a few minutes, occasionally sitting up to stretch his wings.

It was getting hard to focus. The rhythmic flutter of his wings paired with his hypnotic voice was putting you in a strange state.

“How do you feel, little one ?”

He was hovering above you, wings outstretched with a sinister smile. With the fire to his back, he looked like an avenging angel, or maybe a demon. But, in your dazed state all you could say was “pretty” and reach for his sparkly wings. They felt like silk. When you pulled away, a layer of dust coated your fingers. Without a second thought, you brought them to your mouth and moaned.

His pupils expanded, completely shrouding his eyes in black.

“That’s a good girl. So smart.” He cooed, leaning down to cup your cheek and press his lips against yours. His kiss burned. Leaving you dizzy and reeling. It felt like your body was on fire, set ablaze by Izuku’s passion.

“A bit warm, my pet?” He smirked against your skin, kissing across your jawline. “Why don’t we take these off, hmm?” He nibbled on your ear, drawing breathy moans from your throat as he removed your clothes. Your body grew hotter with each graze of his fingers. By the time you were fully nude, the heat in your core was so intense that you could only whine his name.

“izuku”

“say it again”

“izuku”

“again”

“izuku”

“once more, my love”.

“izu~~”

He pushed in slowly. Yes, the effects of his faerie dust was more than enough to prepare you for his length. But you were so small compared to him. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

Even though his primal instincts screamed at him to ruin you. MATE. BREED. FUCK. Was running on a constant loop in his mind. His hips still rolled against yours slowly. He wrapped your legs around his waist to burrow in deeper. His tip kissed that spongey spot in your slippery pussy. His tongue pressed against the seam of your lips, bullying its way inside to taste your mouth. Your hands flew to his curly hair, drawing a grunt and sharp thrust from your enchanting lover. Your cunt spasmed around him. He bit your shoulder to conceal his own moans. Blood pooled in the hollow of your neck and he lowered his head to lap it up. His wings flapped wildly, throwing more dust in the air. His veiny cock pulsed against your velveteen wall, pushing against your cervix to rest against your womb. Izuku pulled away to watch where the two of you were connected. A thick creamy ring formed at the base of his cock with hearty thrust. Arousal poured from you weeping hole resulting in a lewd squelch that echoed against the walls. He pursed his lips allowing a glob of saliva to land directly on your sticky clit. The pads of his thumb worked the swollen bud until you were trembling beneath him. Your sweet cunny clenched tightly around him; it was almost hard to move. Izuku squeezed the base of his cock to stave off his impending orgasm. He wasn't ready to stop fucking you yet.

There was no need to rush, you’d be together forever.

His perfect little pet.

@xogabbiexo , @chaichaiiskai & @hentyehottie y’all better come get one of these.

[hayatheauthor]

Crafting Authentic Child Characters: From Toddlers to Tweens

When it comes to writing captivating stories, it's not just about the plot or setting—it's about the characters that bring your narrative to life. Among those characters, child characters hold a special place. 

Child characters, when done right, can hold a special place in your readers’ hearts. Think of YA series like Harry Potter or Percy Jackson- these books featured eleven and twelve year olds but their captivating tales and realistic characteristics drew us in. However, when done wrong, child characters can often ruin immersion and make readers feel annoyed due to their unrealistic representation. 

In this guide, I’ve decided to explore the different pubescent age groups you often see in literature alongside tips to help you craft authentic child characters. 

Understanding Toddler Characters

The toddler years—a phase characterized by tiny tots exploring the world with wide-eyed wonder. Writing toddler characters can be a delightful yet challenging task. These pint-sized adventurers, typically aged 1 to 3 years, are bundles of curiosity and emotion.

Characterizing Toddlers

Toddlers are known for their limited communication skills. Their vocabulary might consist of a few words or adorable gibberish. They often express themselves through gestures, facial expressions, and body language. Embracing their simplicity is key when bringing them to life on the page. Toddlers view the world with fresh eyes and uncomplicated hearts, finding joy in the little things like chasing butterflies or playing with bubbles.

Portraying Toddler Dialogue

When writing dialogue for toddler characters, simplicity is the name of the game. Toddler speech is basic and straightforward, often composed of short sentences or one-word responses. Capturing their enthusiasm is essential. Toddlers can be highly expressive, so use exclamation marks and enthusiastic language to convey their excitement. It's all about experiencing life's wonders, one small step at a time.

Writing toddler characters offers an opportunity to explore the world through innocent eyes and infuse your story with their unique brand of wonder and emotion.

Toddlers In Flashbacks 

I would like to quickly mention that people don’t retain most of their memories from their toddler years, so if you’re trying to create a plot point surrounding a situation your character witnessed as a toddler it is important to consider whether a child that age would realistically even remember such an event. 

Capturing the Essence of Children (4-7 years)

Children aged 4-7 are often brimming with creativity, curiosity, and a penchant for storytelling. Think back to times when you used to mix up shampoos in the bathroom to make ‘potions’ or create weirdly intricate plots for your ‘house’ games. 

Characterizing Young Children

At this stage, children are developing rapidly, both physically and cognitively. They have an eagerness to understand the world around them, which often leads to a vivid imagination. Their capacity to believe in the extraordinary—whether it's magical creatures, talking animals, or hidden treasures—creates a wonderful opportunity for storytelling.

Young children are naturally curious and possess a boundless well of energy. Their interests can be diverse, ranging from dinosaurs and superheroes to fairies and space exploration. To capture their essence:

Highlighting Imaginative Play: Young children often engage in elaborate make-believe games. These imaginative adventures can be a goldmine for character development.

Embracing Curiosity: Encourage their inquisitiveness about the world. Show characters asking questions, seeking answers, and discovering new things.

Crafting Dialogues and Actions

When crafting dialogues and actions for children aged 4 to 7, it's important to consider their evolving language skills. Unlike toddlers, who may struggle with pronunciation, characters in this age group can typically speak properly. This means they won't say "sowwy" for "sorry" or "wuv" for "love."

Embracing Storytelling: Children this age love to narrate their adventures and dreams. Use storytelling within your story to reflect their imaginative nature.

Curious Questioning: Show characters exploring, asking "why," and expressing wide-eyed wonder. Utilize their questions and observations to drive the plot or reveal new information.

Navigating the World of Pre-Teens (8-12 years)

Many captivating young adult series begin with characters in their pre-teen years, allowing readers to witness their growth and development throughout the books. This is because writing characters in this age group, typically aged 8 to 12, offers a unique exploration of budding independence and the influence of peer relationships.

Your characters are no longer seen as little kids but at the same time don’t have the freedom associated with adolescence. 

Characterizing Pre-Teens

Pre-teen characters are in the process of discovering their identity. They're developing a sense of self and often begin to assert their independence from parents or caregivers. While their childlike innocence remains, they're also exposed to a wider range of experiences and emotions.

These characters may show an increased interest in friendships, hobbies, and their expanding world. To capture the essence of pre-teens:

Embrace Growing Independence: Pre-teens may want more autonomy in decision-making. Explore their budding independence as they take small steps toward self-reliance.

Peer Relationships: Friendships become more critical during this stage. Show characters navigating the challenges and joys of making and maintaining friendships.

Crafting Dialogues and Actions

When crafting dialogues and actions for pre-teen characters, consider their evolving perspectives and emerging voices:

Balancing Childlike Wonder: While they're growing up, pre-teens still retain their childlike curiosity and wonder. Don't shy away from showcasing these traits.

Beginning Adolescence: Pre-teens may start experiencing pre-adolescent changes. This could include minor mood swings, increased self-awareness, and curiosity about the world's complexities.

Tweens: Balancing Innocence and Growing Up (13-14 years)

As we move forward into the world of tweens, we encounter characters aged 13 to 14—the age where innocence meets the beginnings of adolescence. Crafting characters in this age group offers an exciting opportunity to explore the challenges and interests of this transitional stage.

Characterizing Tweens

Tweens are on the cusp of adolescence, and their experiences reflect this delicate balance between childhood and growing up. They're often navigating the complexities of middle school, peer dynamics, and a burgeoning sense of self.

Tweens may still possess a childlike wonder, but they're increasingly exposed to more mature themes. To capture the essence of tweens:

Emerging Independence: Tweens may desire more autonomy and may challenge authority figures as they assert their individuality.

Peer Influence: Friendships take on even greater significance. Characters in this age group may grapple with peer pressure and the need to fit in.

Crafting Dialogues and Actions

When crafting dialogues and actions for tween characters, consider the delicate balance they strike:

Retaining Childlike Charm: Tweens often have endearing quirks and moments of innocence. Don't lose sight of these traits.

Exploring Pre-Adolescence: As they begin to encounter the complexities of growing up, characters in this age group may exhibit curiosity about more mature topics while still experiencing occasional moments of youthful naivety.

Writing tween characters allows for a captivating exploration of the liminal space between childhood and adolescence, where they teeter on the brink of exciting self-discovery.

Creating Memorable Child Characters

Now that we've explored the unique characteristics and development stages of child characters, it's time to discuss how to craft memorable and well-rounded child characters, regardless of their age.

Developing Distinct Personalities

Each child character you create should have a distinct personality, just like any adult character. Think about their likes, dislikes, fears, and dreams. Are they adventurous, introverted, mischievous, or kind-hearted? Consider how their personalities align with their age group.

Character Growth and Development

While child characters start with a certain set of traits, they should also experience growth and change throughout your story. Whether it's learning important life lessons or maturing in their outlook, character arcs are just as relevant for children as they are for adults.

Examples from Literature

To better understand how to create memorable child characters, let's turn to some examples from literature. Take, for instance, Scout Finch from "To Kill a Mockingbird" by Harper Lee. She's curious, brave, and compassionate, making her a beloved child character who evolves throughout the novel.

Or consider the character of Matilda from Roald Dahl's "Matilda." She's an exceptionally bright and resilient child character who learns to harness her unique abilities.

These examples show how well-crafted child characters can leave a lasting impact on readers.

Crafting Authentic Child Dialogue: Dos and Don'ts

Writing dialogue for child characters can be both challenging and rewarding. It's important to strike the right balance between authenticity and readability. Here are some dos and don'ts to keep in mind:

Dos:

Capture Their Perspective: Remember that children see the world differently. Describe events and surroundings through their eyes. Use simple language when necessary to reflect their understanding.

Embrace Authenticity: Children may use slang, colloquialisms, or unique phrases. Incorporate these sparingly to add authenticity to their speech.

Show Growth: As your child characters mature throughout the story, their speech should evolve too. Gradually introduce more complex vocabulary and sentence structures.

Reflect Emotions: Children express emotions openly. Use dialogue to convey their feelings, whether it's unbridled enthusiasm, innocent curiosity, or the occasional temper tantrum.

Don'ts:

Avoid Stereotypes: While children may display certain traits based on their age, avoid falling into clichéd stereotypes. Each child is unique, so give your characters depth beyond typical traits.

Steer Clear of Exaggeration: While child characters can be quirky and funny, be cautious not to make their dialogue overly cute or exaggerated, which can become grating to readers.

Limit 'Baby Talk': Especially for older child characters, avoid excessive use of baby talk or mispronunciations unless it's essential to the story.

Don't Oversimplify: While simplicity is key, don't underestimate your young readers. Children can understand complex emotions and ideas if presented in a relatable way.

By keeping these dos and don'ts in mind, you can create dialogue that feels authentic, engages young readers, and adds depth to your child characters.

Crafting authentic child characters can be a fulfilling journey for writers. Whether you're depicting the innocence of a toddler, the imaginative spirit of a young child, the evolving personality of a tween, or the budding independence of a pre-teen, these characters can add depth and heart to your stories.

Remember, each child character is a unique individual with their own quirks, dreams, and potential for growth.

I hope this blog on Crafting Authentic Child Characters: From Toddlers to Tweens will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.  

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Toddler!reader who has heterochomia and is insecure about it because their previous parents insulted their eyes so they hide it with their hair. The family quickly finds out why they cover their eyes and so the ror family introduces reader to Jack and they have a little bonding over them both having heterochromia.(especially if jack sees readers emotions go from anxious and sad to really happy)

-You always kept your hair over your eyes, remembering being at the orphanage and the other kids calling you a freak because you had two different colored eyes.

-They made you feel like a freak, always staring and pointing, and the adults did nothing to correct them, choosing to ignore it as the kids weren’t hurting you.

-When you were finally adopted, your new family was curious as to why you kept your eyes always hidden from them, and if they asked your hands would always lift to your eyes, hiding them.

-You were scared that they were going to send you back to the orphanage once they saw your eyes, but unlike the kids, your new family all smiled, saying how beautiful your eyes were.

-They could tell you were scared, hesitant, but luckily they had a secret weapon- Jack!

-Hercules carried you to Jack, who had prepared a tea party for your arrival and your eyes went big, seeing his eye he usually had covered by a monocle, so he wouldn’t scare you at first, was uncovered, revealing two different colored eyes.

-Jack was so patient and gentle with you, telling you that just because you had two different colored eyes, there wasn’t anything wrong with you, it just made you look a bit different, it made you unique and special.

-You had never been called special or unique before, it made you smile softly, feeling a warmth taking over your chest.

-Hercules couldn’t help but beam, seeing the smile on your face as Jack went over the science, even if you couldn’t understand it, the science behind heterochromia and even brought in Nikola to confirm it.

-You had question marks surrounding you, confused until they both confirmed that there are so many, thousands, of people who have different colored eyes, which made you smile, you and Jack weren’t alone.

-Parvati was happy to help you braid your hair to keep it out of your face, running downstairs to greet your family the next morning, a brand-new outlook on life in your heart.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Meeting your Changeling BF: Part 4

General Plot: You wake up somewhere else, and you and Clark continue on your journey to explore a new land

Changeling (Clark) x f flower nymph reader

Word Count: 4.5K

TW: kidnapping, unhinged plotting against society, p in v sex, NSFW smut, oral sex, heavy yandere behavior, and possessive themes, biting and marking, monster fucking, sneaky manipulation, light mind control

Find other parts here

You woke alone again. Instead of Clark’s spicy scent, you smelled flowers. 

“Hmm?” you murmured, opening your eyes. 

The room you were in was dark. 

“She’s waking up,” you heard a familiar voice say. 

“Rosalie?” you asked, squinting your eyes in the dark. 

Someone lit a candle and you were surrounded by the curious eyes of the clutch of nymphs you’ve met before. 

“Where- where am I?” you asked, getting frightened. 

Where was Clark? 

“Don’t worry,” Daisy assured you. “You’re still on the ship..we’re just…hiding until we land.” 

“Hiding?” you asked, sitting up. “Why? Where is Clark?” 

“The changeling?” Rosalie sneered. “He’s probably searching the ship over looking for his conquest, but he won’t find us!” 

That snapped you to attention. 

“What? Why? What am I doing here?” you asked. 

Daisy gave you a sympathetic smile. 

“We talked it over and we decided it’s better for you to come with us,” she explained. “You’re too new and naive to understand the danger you’re in.” 

“I’m not in any danger!” you snapped. “I tried to tell you!” 

“Hush,” Rosalie, hissed. “You have no idea what you’re saying. Changelings are baby stealers and spies. He’s probably going to sell you when we get to port. We’re doing you a favor!” 

“But-” you started, but Rosalie gave you a bitter look that shut you up. 

“Well…where are you taking me?” you asked, which seemed like a more amenable question. 

“We’re returning home to the old wood,” Daisy said brightly. “That’s where nymphs belong. We were summoned by the lord of Merida for some stupid plan of his.” 

“More like kidnapped,” Rosalie spat. “But we got away, we always do. So we’re going home to Ilirion. The old wood is safe. Only pure souls and nymphs can venture through it.” 

“Pure souls?” you asked, confused.

“Children,” Daisy explained. “The old wood will tolerate children.” 

“Once we arrive we can go back to our lives. Frolicking in the forest, drinking dew from leaves,” one of the other nymphs who you assumed was named Lily if the flowers in her hair were anything to go by, sighed wistfully. 

“I was told nymphs were good for villages,” you ventured. “You don’t want to be of service?” 

Rosalie laughed. 

“No, not at all,” she snorted. “The people of this world are crude and cruel. I won’t lift a finger to help one of them. It’s her fault we’re this far away from home anyway.” 

She pointed at Daisy who looked embarrassed. 

“I thought like you,” she admitted. “I thought flitting through the woods was a waste of our time, so I convinced us all to respond to the lord of Merida’s request. It turned out…poorly. We had to lure them into a sense of security and then escape in the night. It was an ordeal finding money for the ship back home.” 

“But that’s all behind us now,” Rosalie said, putting an assuring hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “We learned a lesson, no?” 

Daisy nodded meekly. 

“What was the lord of Merida’s plan?” you asked, curious about their journey. 

Rosalie sighed and frowned. 

“He thought we could spoil wells to defeat his enemy,” she huffed. “A foolish idea. Nymphs are creatures of purity. We don’t wage war. We make things thrive and bloom. We have our own ambitions, anyway.” 

“Which are?” you asked. 

Daisy brightened. 

“We want to spread the old wood!” she beamed. “This world is cursed. The creatures crawling around have soiled and defiled it…but if we work together…we can make it pure again!” 

You swallowed hard. 

“Pure again?” you repeated, shakily. 

A dark look passed over Rosalie’s face. 

“We’re going to gather as many nymphs as we can and start doing what we do…grow things. We’ll grow the brambles in their logging camps, cover the fields the outsiders have tilled with wild foliage, flood the towns with pure water, let the forest retake the cities! The world will be pretty again, covered in flowers and fruit trees. No more outsiders to ruin things…no one will chop down our trees, no one will pull up our weeds. No one will hunt our animals!” she explained. 

Your eyes widened as Rosalie’s smile grew unhinged in the flickering candlelight. 

“But isn’t that..wrong?” you asked. “You’re talking about wiping all the other species out!” 

She shrugged. 

“They had their chance,” she snarled. “Nature has  suffered too long for their ambitions! It’s time to take action. We are the old wood!” 

“We are the old wood!” the other nymphs cheered in unison. 

“I-I don’t want to hurt anyone,” you muttered. 

Rosalie put her arm around you. 

“Don’t soften your heart to outsiders. The world follows a cycle,” she said. “Creatures live and die. It’s natural. They belong to the old wood, yet they do not know it. Their still bodies will decay and the land will thrive again. You honor them using their sacrifice to purify the realm.” 

You were quite sure then that you had to escape. These nymphs had lost their minds. 

“Couldn’t you just go home and forget about the outsiders?” you asked, but she shook her head. 

“The lord of Merida dared to ensnare us in his machinations,” Daisy offered. “The outsiders have grown too bold. They no longer respect the land. We are to do the whisperer’s will.” 

You blinked. 

“The whisperer wills this?” you asked and she smiled, her face also taking on an almost hysterical mask. 

“The whisperer gave us our strength,” she said. “It has always been our duty to grow…so grow we shall.” 

“We will grow and grow until there are no sharp corners left! No metal tools ripped from the womb of the mountains! No buildings made of the flesh of our brothers the trees!” Lily agreed. “We’ll free the rivers from the dams that block them! Free the gourds from the trellises they’ve built to bind them! Once the old wood has spread the ents will be our army!” 

You shook, frightened, your eyes jerking around seeking an exit. 

“Um…that all sounds…gooood…” you said, placating them. “Where are we?” 

Daisy seemed delighted by your apparent acceptance of their plan.  

“We’re in a crate in the storage,” she said. “When they unload the ship, we’ll make our escape. Don’t worry. That changeling won’t get to you.” 

“Ah…” you said, trembling. 

You had no idea how to escape the nymphs. Something had clearly made them go mad. 

“Here have something to eat,” Daisy, said handing you a bit of fruit. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, chewing on it. 

While you ate the nature spirits reviewed their plans. They intended to take the cities one by one. As Lily had mentioned, they planned on letting the living trees destroy the dams, flooding the towns. Then they’d grow brambles on the farms so their was no food but what grew wild.

It seemed they were less intent on murdering anyone as getting rid of the sorts of things that made cities civilized. The “outsiders” as they called them could live if they foraged for fruit, slept in caves, and didn’t hunt. The nymphs were openly hostile to any sort of cultivation or attempt to tame the wild. 

You wondered where Clark was…if he was frantically searching the ship or if he’d even realized you were gone yet. You had no idea what time it was in the dark box. 

It could have been hours listening to the nymphs, but suddenly you heard a spooky scraping. 

SKKK, SKKK, SKKK. 

The nymphs didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in planning civilization’s downfall. There was a loud BANG and one side of the box fell open, light pouring in, blinding you all. 

“Wha-?” you heard Daisy say. 

As you blinked trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light, a massive form appeared in front of you. It's claws scratched the wood floor and as your eyes focused you saw a massive beast, snarling and spitting flames. 

Screams pierced your ears as the beast thrashed its head, revealing massive, dripping fangs. You were frozen in place, shivering. You'd never seen a creature like this. The nymphs scattered, slipping on the creatures drool as they made their escape. You should have run or hid or something but you were stock still. You squeezed your eyes shut, ready to die, when suddenly a warm body pressed against you. 

“(Y/N)!” Clark’s voice hummed in your ear. 

You tried to look up, but he pressed your face to his chest. 

You were so relieved to be in his arms, you didn’t fight him, simply leaning into his warmth, letting the scent of incense fill your lungs. 

“You found me,” you gasped. 

You felt soft kisses on your head as he floated in his true form out of the storage deck. 

“Of course I found you,” he hummed. “I would have torn this boat apart board by board to find you.” 

When you reached an area where there were other guests, he let your head up, transforming to the humanoid form he used for the public. 

“What happened to the nymphs?” you asked, but he didn’t answer right away, only looking at you, frowning. 

“Why? Do you wish to return to them?” he snapped.

“No! No! Of course not,” you gasped, confused by his anger. 

“Then don’t worry yourself over it,” he said sharply. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” you whimpered. “I was only scared. They were kidnapping me. I don’t want them to grab me again.” 

His face softened and he smiled, patting your back. 

“You are safe,” he said. “We will be landing soon. Don’t spare any more of your thoughts for those kidnappers.” 

“O-okay,” you hummed, leaning your head into his chest again. 

Clark was safety and comfort in a world you didn’t understand. Those nymphs were bent on world domination. They were insane. Whatever happened to them was not your business. You glanced up at Clark’s handsome face as he carried you back to your room. Your business was the changeling that had taken you in and saved you time and time again. It was best to leave it at that. So you let him lay you down on the bed, unwilling to let you out of his grasp. 

—

The past was easy to forget when faced with the thriving port where you arrived. Ilirion was a far richer province than Merida. Large buildings cut from white stone stretched up to dizzying heights. There were people dressed in colorful clothes everywhere you looked. 

Street vendors lined the avenues selling food and trinkets, while performers begged for gold coins as they did acrobatic tricks and played instruments. Every business had flower boxes full of blooms and elaborate window dressings. 

Clark had relaxed once you were off the ship and seemed enamored by your bright eyes taking in the pretty city. 

“Ehylin, is beautiful, no?” Clark asked as you walked the streets. “It’s a pity we can’t stay longer. I have a carriage chartered to leave this afternoon. Our luggage is on it’s way, but we need to buy some things before we take off.” 

“Where are we going?” you asked. 

“Another city to the north named Leatolos,” he said. “I have a surprise for you.” 

You blinked at him, squeezing the elbow he’d offered you to hold. He turned you into a clothing store and you marveled at all of the beautiful dresses and shoes.

A small woman with wings appeared. 

“How can I help you?” she asked, smiling. 

“I need a coat warm enough for Leatolos for my partner,” he said and she beamed. 

“Oh you’re headed north?” she asked while she gathered coats from hangers. “How lovely. Leatolos is the diamond of Ilirion. Have you been?” 

Clark nodded. 

“I have, but it’s my partner’s first time,” he explained and her eyes twinkled. 

“Oh, you’re in for a nice surprise,” she said. 

You tried on coats while Clark watched, his face holding a bemused smirk as you twirled in them for him. 

“Pick what you like,” he insisted. “Don’t worry about the cost.” 

You finally decided on a baby blue coat with a white fur lining. Clark bought you some gloves and a scarf as well before the little woman wrapped up your packages and sent you on your way. 

“There’s one more thing we must do before we set out,” he said, guiding you to a very grand building that looked like it had something to do with the government. 

Though when you’d soul swapped you could speak their native language, you couldn’t read their writing which was a little frustrating. 

Holding the door open for you, he shuffled you inside and approached a counter manned by a bored looking fellow with only one eye in the middle of his head. 

“What’s your business?” he huffed, seeming annoyed. 

“I’d like to register my wife,” Clark said and your eyes widened at him. 

You opened your mouth to correct him, but the wink he gave you said you ought to keep your thoughts to yourself. 

“Does she have an ID?” the one eye’d man asked. 

“She’s a nymph,” he explained. “Can’t you see? Why would she have an ID? She’s from the old wood!” 

The cyclops blinked at you as if he were seeing you for the first time. 

“So you are,” he said looking back at Clark. “Allright, your ID then.” 

Clark passed a document that looked like a passport book to him and the man turned his attention to it, pulling out some papers and stamps. 

“State your name miss,” he said to you. 

“(Y/N),” you said, unsure what was happening. 

“That’s an odd name for a nymph,” he commented, lazily stamping something then passing a paper to you, you couldn’t read. 

“Sign here,” he said handing you a pen. 

You scribbled your name and he examined it before stamping it again. 

“You’re now bound by the laws of Ilirion,” the cyclops explained. “There is a thirty day provisional period. As long as you don’t get into any trouble for the next month your citizenship will be official upon the new moon. If you’re found guilty of a crime, due to your nature spirit status, you’ll be deported to the nearest old wood. After the thirty day period you’ll be eligible for prosecution and can be interned in prison under the laws of the province. Understand?” 

You nodded. 

“Good,” he grunted passing Clark a little book similar to the one he’d presented. “That is your identification. I know you little nymphs aren’t good with documents so best let your husband keep it, hm?” 

You nodded again. 

“Best to you,” he said, waving the two of you away. 

When you were outside you stared at Clark. 

“You lied!” you gasped. “We aren’t married!” 

He shrugged. 

“We are now…It’s safer this way,” he assured you. 

You wrinkled your brow. 

“Nature spirits aren’t usually declared citizens of any realm,” he explained. “You exist in a bit of a bureaucratic gray area because so few leave the old wood to live life among the civilized. If I declare you my wife here, you are as long as you sign the form, which you did. If you’d like we can have a ceremony.” 

You frowned at him, wondering what the circumstances were that Clark had convinced the old Y/N to give up her life in the woods. The nymphs you’d met so far all seemed adamant that living in the city was unnatural.  

“Are you mad?” he asked, looking a little nervous, but you only sighed. 

“No,” you pouted. “But it would have been nice if you asked.” 

He nodded, sensible enough to at least look contrite. 

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he said. “Consider this our honeymoon. We can do whatever you like once we arrive in Leatolos. Come, I’ll get you something special right now to commemorate the day.” 

He tugged you down the avenue to a jewelry shop and pulled you inside. 

“Oh Clark! You don’t have to-” you gasped, looking around at all the glittering jewels. 

“I do though,” he said, interrupting you. “I at least owe you a proper ring.” 

“What can I help you with?” the naga shopkeeper asked. 

“I need a ring for my new bride,” Clark declared, making you blush. 

The naga smiled at the prospect of a big sale and hurried around to gather rings for you to look at. You were overwhelmed by all of the options. There were rings big and small, some gold, some sliver and a rainbow of stones. As you looked, your eyes kept being drawn to a certain one. Clark followed your gaze and picked it up. 

“You like this one?” he asked and you had to nod. 

It was rather simple, but very pretty with gold leaves surrounding a heart shaped stone. 

“We’ll take it and a gold band for me,” he informed the jewler. 

When he’d paid and the rings had been sized, Clark bent on one knee right then and there. 

“Will you accept this ring and be my wife?” he asked. 

Your cheeks burned and you nodded your head. He grinned, showing his sharp teeth and slid the ring on your finger. The naga wished you both traditional blessings and with all your business done, Clark shuffled you to where you would meet the carriage. 

“It’s somewhat of a long trip,” he warned you, “but the countryside of Ilirion is pretty.” 

He was correct, as you sat holding his hand, you watched the fields full of flowers and jewel toned forests slip past. Something was bothering you, however. You hated to ask again about the old (Y/N) but there was something about their story you were dying to know. 

“Clark,” you said. “How did you convince the old (Y/N) to move into town?” 

He paused for a moment before answering you. 

“Are you sure you want to know?” he asked and you nodded. 

“When I met her I was a little boy, maybe eight, and she was just a toddler,” he explained. “The old wood cared for her. The vines of the trees rocked her to sleep and the does fed her milk.That’s pretty normal for nature spirits. 

I first saw her when I was hiding from Harri and Neia and I ran too deep into the old wood. They used to bully me, the whole town did, really, but they were the worst. I couldn’t fight back or I would have been booted out of the village.

The doctor gave me a bed to sleep in and meals, but she was busy so I spent most of my time wandering. Other than the doc, no one smiled at me. No one praised me or taught me lessons. They all assumed I’d move on when I was old enough and had stretched the doctor’s kindness as far as it would go. 

So when (Y/N) smiled at me and toddled over to me as if she wasn’t the least bit afraid…I took her. I carried her back to the doctor and she fell asleep in my arms. 

The doctor told me to put her back, that nature spirits belonged in the old wood, but Harri had seen me with her and told his father. The mayor wanted a nymph in town for obvious reasons so he insisted that we keep her. 

He even gave me praise for capturing her, which made me happy. The town treated me like a real citizen after that. When she was little (Y/N) would only let me hold her. It took time for her to get acclimated to the village, so my position was secured. Eventually, maybe to get rid of me, or maybe out of kindness, I’ll never know, they sent me to Ilirion to learn to be a mage. 

Only, when I came back…things were different.” 

He stared out of the window, sadly. 

“Anyway, after everything that happened as we all grew up, I wondered if what I did was wrong…I lived up to the stereotypes about my kind. I stole a baby and Harri never let me forget it, though it was due to me he and (Y/N) ever even met.” 

He looked down at you, brushing your cheek. 

“I hope you’re not disappointed in me,” he sighed. 

“How could I be?” you asked. “It doesn’t sound like you ever really harmed the other (Y/N) and you were just a lonely little boy.” 

He hummed and smiled at you. 

“You’re so incredibly understanding,” he sighed, before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. 

His kiss wasn’t delicate. It was needy and bruising. He clutched you to him as if he could become one with you. His tongue licked your lips and his sharp teeth nibbled the flesh, willing you to let him in. When your lips parted his tongue moved against yours as if he planned to devour you. 

There was the sound of tearing fabric and you felt cool air against your chest as he ripped the dress he’d bought for you open to get to your skin. 

“Clark,” you hummed between kisses, but he didn’t stop. 

“I need you (Y/N)” he almost whined, but mostly demanded. 

His hands were all over your body, stroking and squeezing the flesh. He pulled his head back, turning his attention to tearing your clothes to shreds. 

“I need to fill you,” he hissed. “I need to claim you.” 

He tossed you against the cushioned coach bench, pulling your legs open with his claws and burying his face in your cunt. His long tongue roughly forced its way into your channel and you squealed from the intrusion. Your squeal quickly shifted to a moan as he worked his way inside you, licking and lapping up your juices. 

“I’m already yours,” you sighed as his claws pricked the soft skin of your thighs. 

“Show me you love me,” he demanded. “Show me you’ll never leave me. I don’t want to live if you’re going to leave me.” 

You cupped his chin in your hand, gently guiding the blank mask of his face up to you. 

“Why would I leave you?” you assured him. “You’re all I have in this world, no?” 

The red slash of his mouth crashed into yours. The part of you that still clung to the old world you knew was aware that Clark’s obsession with you was…not healthy. You knew he shouldn’t love you the way he did. You’d only been together for a few days and he made you his wife without even asking…but you were alone. You knew very little of the world around you and you were frightened. So you let yourself be his. Any therapist would have called it toxic. Your friends and family wouldn’t approve, but just as he wanted to cling to you, you wanted to cling to him too. 

“Bite me,” you whispered and his cherry red eyes met yours. 

“What?” he asked and you pulled the rest of the fabric at your shoulder away.

“Bite me here,” you said, letting a finger run down a long sharp tooth. “I’ll carry your mark. Will that convince you that I’m not going to leave?” 

He smiled and his eyes glinted. What you were doing was madness, but you barrelled forward anyway. 

“It won’t hurt,” he said in that lilting tone he took sometimes. “I’ll make it good for you.” 

Instead of digging his teeth in right away, his head dropped to your breasts to lick and suck your nipples. Your back arched and you gasped at the attention. 

“Yes, yes, Clark, please!” you whined as he formed his claws back into fingers to stuff them inside of your weeping slit. 

When you were writhing in front of him, so close to reaching your end, he replaced his fingers with his thick cock. Spearing you, he pounded you into the cushion. His strokes were ragged and desperate, while his clawed hand wrapped around your neck. 

You spiralled towards an orgasm you couldn’t stop, screaming his name as he bit into your shoulder. It didn’t hurt at all, just a bit of pressure as your body came unraveled around him. His cum filed your pussy, mixing with your own fluids. He licked the wound, reveling in the taste of your blood in his mouth. He wanted every inch of you to be marked for him, but would be satisfied with this bit. 

“Mmm,” you hummed, curling into his embrace. 

While you drifted to sleep, he carefully cleaned your wound and wrapped it with a bandage. By morning it would stop bleeding and you’d be left with a scar the shape of his teeth. He smiled down at your dozing form, so pleased with you. 

How could he have ever torn himself apart over the other (Y/N)? You were so far superior. You loved him. You accepted him. You trusted him. 

[worseforwords]

Exposed (Ona Batlle x Reader)

Thanks to @footygirl114 for the title idea! Buckle up everyone, this is a long one.

“Heads up!” Ona’s voice called from behind you and you felt her leap onto your back a moment later. Today was a good day. United had just beaten City 2-0 in a home game and you had even managed to score one of the goals. Your girlfriend waved at the supporters as you strolled past the stands, but your gaze drifted towards an unusual figure sitting some way down the row. With black hair tipped in blue, striking make-up, dark and frayed clothes, and a plaited choker around her neck, she seemed out of place in a football crowd. You were intrigued, something about her felt familiar, though she was too far away to say exactly what it was. As you caught yourself staring at her for a little too long, you noticed she was staring right back at you, and as you drew closer, she gave you a wave. You suddenly recognised her, and your smile faded. She must’ve noticed your sudden revelation, as she sent you a quick wink. 

Your stomach dropped and panic set in as you considered what to do. Ona still sat on your back, basking in the glory of victory. You knew you had to go say hi to the girl who was now smiling broadly at you from the stands, but you wanted to do so discreetly, without any teammates, especially Ona, joining in on the conversation, or any cameras for that matter. You let Ona down on her feet, to which she send a quick pout your way, before turning her face back towards the fans to continue the walk around the field. Waiting until everyone was distracted, you hastened to the railing to greet the mysterious girl. 

“Hi” you said, quiet as a whisper. “Hey Y/N, long time no see.” she replied, leaning over the barrier to pull you in for a hug. You smiled uncomfortably, scanning your surroundings before reciprocating her hug. As she pulled away, she chuckled, “So, soccer, huh?” “We call it football here.” you answered, trying to match her laugh.

The conversation was short-lived as Ona wandered over, curious as to who you were speaking to. “Hey, who’s this?” she asked, her attention fully on you. “This is Nia, erm- an old friend.” you answered quickly, avoiding eye contact. “Nia, this is Ona.” Ona looked at you confused for a second, probably expecting some sort of label in your introduction, before she brushed it off and quickly shook Nia’s hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.” “Likewise.”

The small interaction sent shivers down your spine. Until now, you had managed to keep your past safely hidden. You had traveled a lot when you were younger, which had allowed you to leave certain things behind, and it had never caught up to you until this moment. It hadn't been hard, as you just omitted certain parts of your youth, namely the two years you spent in LA as a teenager.

Nia broke the silence, turning to you. “So,” she said, “you do remember my name. I was afraid you’d forgotten about us for a second there, Picky.” You froze. Picky. You hadn’t heard that nickname in ages. You avoided Ona’s questioning expression as you tried to laugh it off. “Of course I remember you. It just took me a second, what with your hair and make-up.” you said, pointing at said attributes. “Fair enough,” Nia giggled, “I’ve probably changed my hair about 40 times since we last met. I’m not the only one who’s changed though.” she continued, eyeing your bright red Manchester United shirt. You laughed, “Yeah, I suppose I have.” “Do you still have the tattoo at least?” Nia asked, causing Ona to look up with surprise.

The tattoo. It was the one and only thing you had left from your previous life, a permanent mark etched onto your skin. You had planned to get it removed at some point, but the laser removal was quite expensive, and since the tattoo wasn’t often visible to others, you never bothered to actually get it done. When you started dating Ona however, you knew she was bound to notice it at some point. When she did, you had momentarily forgotten about it when she started pulling down your underwear (really who could blame you for your mind being elsewhere), and you were taken aback by her immediate questioning about the small violet on your hip with the words “can’t take back the bullet” scribbled underneath it. Luckily you were still quick on your feet and you made something up along the lines of it being a reminder to not let your emotions get the better of you and Ona let it slide after that because she too had other things on her mind.

“Yeah, I still have it.” you said with a shy smile, still avoiding Ona’s gaze. “Good, me too.” Nia said, making Ona turn to her sharply. “By the way, Picky,” she started, changing the subject, “you still owe Casey some money, remember?” This was the final straw for you.  Too much had already been said, and you needed to get away as fast as possible. You took advantage of a group of fans who called out your names to excuse yourself, pulling Ona with you towards them. After signing a few shirts and taking selfies, you hurried inside.

“What was that all about?” Ona asked as she caught up with you. “What was what about?” You stalled, trying to come up with an excuse for your strange behaviour. “Why are you being weird?” she asked directly. “I’m not, just tired from the game, that's all.” you said, unable to come up with anything better as you headed towards the changing room, avoiding eye contact, gaze straight ahead. “Shit,” you muttered as you sat down, “forgot my coat, be right back.” 

As you walked back onto the pitch, you couldn’t resist checking if Nia was still there. To your dismay, you saw her talking to Millie. “Mills!” you yelled, running towards them. “Come with me, now.” You grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the conversation. “Woah, Y/N, calm down, what’s going on?” she asked, shocked by your sudden intervention. “It’s just that,” you paused to think as your eyes scanned the stands, quickly finding just what you needed. “I saw some little girls over there who want your autograph, and I think they’re about to leave without it,” you said, pointing towards a group of young girls holding up a sign with Millie’s name on it. “Oh, thanks. Maybe next time, don’t be so intense about it?” she chuckled. “Noted.” you said, walking with her towards the excited children. “So, erm, what were you talking about with that girl?” you asked carefully. “Nothing really. I just told her I liked her style, and then you pulled me away. Why?” You scanned her face, trying to see if she was telling the truth. For a moment, you thought you saw a small smirk in the corner of her mouth, but you decided not to dwell on it as it would only arouse suspicion. “Nothing, never mind.”

Ella’s voice resounded through the changing room like a joyful bell. “Woooo, party at mine ladies!” she exclaimed. As she settled beside you, she turned to address you. “You coming, Y/N?” she asked, a friendly grin etched onto her features. “Sure, but I have to pop home for a quick shower, forgot my towel,” you replied, hastily pulling on your joggers and coat. Ona began to offer her towel, but before she could finish her sentence, you had already bolted out of the door. 

As you plopped down on your bed, trying to recover from the events of the day, your mind raced with thoughts and questions. You tried to make up reasons for your strange behaviour earlier, but nothing seemed to make sense. You knew that no one could know about what happened. It would change how they see you, and you couldn’t bear that. Those two years in LA were supposed to stay in LA, and thus far, no one had a single clue about it. Nia suddenly showing up made you terrified that someone would find out, so when she messaged you asking if you wanted to hang out, you ignored her. You couldn’t risk anyone finding out your secret.

You went to the party, hoping to take your mind off things. However, things only got worse. Ona made quick work of pulling you aside to interrogate you about earlier, asking a series of questions that made your heart race. “Can we talk?” she said. “Who is she? Why did she call you Picky? Why do you have matching tattoos? Why were you acting so weird? And who is Casey, and why do you owe them money?” 

You knew that you couldn’t tell her the truth, so you made up some stuff on the spot, hoping that it would be enough to satisfy her curiosity. You told her that Nia was just an old friend from LA that you hadn’t seen in years. You added that she was always a bit of a weirdo and that you weren’t that close. You explained that the matching tattoos were just a silly thing that you and Nia did when you were young and naive and the money thing was just some inside joke. You hoped that Ona would buy your story, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still suspicious.

When Ona finally left you be, you quickly checked your phone, which had been buzzing in your pocket a lot. You’d received a series of messages from Nia, the last one of which being: 

“We need to talk. Where are you??”

As you felt increasingly anxious about Nia’s persistent messages, you decided to leave the party early to meet up with her. You quickly came up with an excuse to your teammates, telling them that you suddenly felt unwell and needed to go home to rest, and you texted Nia your address.

Shortly after arriving home, a knock resounded from your door. Hastily, you answered it and welcomed Nia into your apartment. “You’ve got a lovely place here, very grown-up, Picky,” she remarked as she stepped inside. “Please don’t call me that.” you muttered in response as you finally snapped. “Why not?” Nia asked, looking with a confused expression. Mentally debating how to deliver your message, you began, “I’m not the same person anymore.” “Obviously.” She mumbled. “When I got my chance to make it in the football world, I left my old life in LA behind. The person you knew back then is gone, I am no longer her.” you explained. “I don't believe that,” Nia responded, “you can't simply leave and become a completely different person.” “Well, I did,” you answered coldly, “and I’d like to keep it that way. So, please, don’t talk to my teammates again.” Nia remained silent for a moment as her eyes widened.

“They don’t know about us, do they?” she asked, her voice growing louder. “No, they don’t.” You replied quietly. “Woah, are you ashamed of us?” Nia practically yelled. “Of course I am!” you answered a bit too quickly before immediately regretting it. “Sorry, I mean- I didn’t mean it like that, I-” you stumbled over your words, but Nia continued to stare at you with disbelief. “Alright, got it.” she said as she turned back towards the front door. “No, Nia, please, I’m sorry, I-” “Good luck with your new life, I guess, Y/N,” she said, purposefully emphasising your name, walking away before you could finish your apology. Despite feeling guilty, you didn’t make an effort to chase after her. You convinced yourself it was better this way.

“What was that all about?” a voice called from beside you, making you jump. “Ona, hey, what are you doing here?” you asked. “You left the party so suddenly, and I came to check on you,” she explained, “but I suppose you had company.” “How long have you been standing there?” you inquired, curious about what she may have overheard. “Not long, why? Are you afraid I heard something?” Ona asked suspiciously. “No, I just- it’s chilly out here. You should come inside.” you said, holding the door open as she walked inside.

As Ona stepped into your home, she immediately turned to you with a look of frustration etched on her face. “Y/N, what happened with Nia?” she demanded, her voice tinged with anger. “You’ve been so secretive lately, it’s hard not to feel like you’ve been lying to me.” Despite her annoyance, there was a note of confusion in her tone, as if she couldn’t quite understand why you were behaving this way. Once again, you brushed off Ona's concerns, insisting that there was nothing to worry about and that Nia had just wanted to chat. However, Ona was insistent and demanded to know why she had seemed so upset when leaving your apartment. 

You found it hard to articulate your thoughts, feeling caught off guard by the sudden confrontation. “Please, Ona, can you just trust me on this. Please just let it go.” you pleaded, hoping to avoid any further conflict. Eventually, she relented and let the issue slide, but an air of concern still hung around her. The two of you went to bed in a tense silence, the events of the day lingering in your thoughts.

Two days later, as you were getting ready for training in the changing room, Millie approached you. “Hey, do you know that cute girl with the dyed hair from Sunday?” she asked. “You mean Nia?” you clarified. “Yeah, that’s the one! Ona told me you knew her. Can I get her number? I want to ask her out.” Millie explained. You hesitated before responding. “Sorry, Millie. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Nia’s bad news.” Millie looked confused. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her?” “I can’t really explain, but trust me, she’s not someone you want to get involved with.” you insisted. Millie looked rather disappointed. “Okay, I guess. Do you have her number though?” “No, I don’t.” you replied, putting an end to the conversation as you quickly finished up getting ready.

As you entered the changing room after training, you noticed Millie with a smile on her face, gazing at her phone. Ella also spotted her and inquired her about it. “Who’s got you grinning like that, Mills?” “No-one.” Millie quickly replied, and attempted to hide her phone. However, Ella had already caught sight of it and snatched it from her hand. “Who’s Nia?” Ella asked, looking at the screen. You felt a pang in your stomach as you worried about what she could find out. “Millie, what did I tell you?” you asked, annoyed that she had contacted Nia despite your warning. “How did you even contact her?” “I slid into her DMs. Y/N, did you know sh-” Millie began to say, but you cut her off, worried she might reveal too much information. Grabbing her wrist, you dragged her out of the room to talk in private.

You pulled Millie into an empty room as she struggled to free her wrist and kept asking what was going on. “Y/N, what's the big deal? Why can’t I talk to her?” she asked. “Millie, I need you to stop contacting Nia. She’s bad news, and I don’t want you getting involved.” you explained firmly. “But Y/N, she seems so cool.” Millie protested. “Please, Mills, just trust me on this.” you pleaded. After a moment of hesitation, she reluctantly agreed. “Okay, I guess.” she said with a sigh.

You returned to the changing room and took a seat next to Ona. “I suppose that was nothing too?” She remarked sarcastically. You simply sighed in response, feeling unsure of what to say. You gathered your belongings and shot a final stern look at Millie before making your way out and heading home.

During training the next day, you warmed up with Millie, passing the ball back and forth, when suddenly you heard her hum a familiar tune. The sound of her humming that melody made your heart race faster. “What’s that you’re humming Mills?” You tried to stay calm as you asked Millie about the song whilst continuing to pass the ball to each other. However, your clenched jaw gave away your anxiety. Millie stopped humming and looked at you, seeming caught off-guard. “Oops." she said, looking down at the grass. You repeated the question, trying to sound composed, even though your anger was simmering inside you. She looked up with a slight smirk on her face. “It's a nice tune, innit?” You cursed under your breath. “Fuck.” 

You gave millie a pleading look as you took the ball in your hands and walked over to her so you could whisper. “Mills, please, I don’t know what you know, but please don’t tell anyone, I beg you.” you said quietly. “What are you talking about? Are you okay?” she asked innocently, but you didn’t buy it. Before you could answer however, Marc called for all of you to gather together to start the first exercise. You desperately tried to compose yourself as the team gathered, your mind racing with thoughts of what Millie might know. Throughout training, you couldn’t shake the feeling of paranoia that someone might find out your secret. Every time Millie came near you, you were on edge, wondering if she was going to reveal what she knew.

That evening you were sitting on the couch in your living room, lazily flipping through the channels on TV when the doorbell rang. You weren’t expecting anyone, but when you got to the door and opened it, you found a package sitting on your doorstep with no return address. Your curiosity piqued as you eagerly brought it inside and began to open it up. As you lifted the lid, you found an old, tattered photograph of yourself with a group of people, all dressed in black. You couldn't believe your eyes as you stared at the photo, realising that it was taken during the time you lived in LA.

You started to feel a sense of unease as you examined the photo more closely, trying to remember the people in the picture. You could recognise a few faces, but most of them were unfamiliar to you. You began to wonder if this was somehow related to Nia, who had recently reappeared in your life. You had a sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to let go of your earlier outburst, which made her getting closer with Millie even scarier.

As you sat on the couch, staring at the old photo, the sound of the door opening made you jump. Ona walked in, surprised to see you home so early from training. You quickly tried to hide the package, but fumbled with it and ended up dropping it on the floor. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough and she caught sight of the old photo. “Who are these people? And why are you all dressed like that?” Ona asked, pointing to the group of figures in black, their clothes torn and frayed. You tried to play it off, “Oh, that's just me and some old friends in our Halloween costumes. We used to go all out, you know?” Ona laughed at the idea, but then noticed the date on the back of the photo. “But it says April on here, that’s not Halloween.” she pointed out, looking at you suspiciously.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to come up with another excuse. “Oh, right, that must have been some other dress-up party we went to. I can’t really remember.” you said, hoping she would buy it. Ona raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. You could feel the weight of the secret bearing down on you more and more with each thing that happened.

That night, as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, the fear and anxiety that had been brewing within you all day finally caught up. Your mind raced as you tossed and turned, and soon the nightmares began. In one particularly vivid dream, you found yourself playing in a huge match, the stadium packed to the rafters with cheering fans. You were playing well, confident and in control, until suddenly the crowd began to chant a name - a name that you hadn’t heard in years, a name that made your blood run cold. “Picky, Picky, Picky,” they chanted, and you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

As the chanting grew louder and more insistent, you tried to block it out, to focus on the game, but it was no use. You were Picky, the name you’d tried so hard to leave behind, the name that had haunted you for years. And now, in this nightmare, it was back, threatening to undo everything you’d worked so hard for. 

You jolted awake, your heart racing and your body slick with sweat. For a moment, you lay there in the dark, trying to steady your breathing and make sense of what had just happened. “Are you okay?” Ona asked, clearly awakened by your midnight antics. “Yeah, just had a nightmare. Go back to sleep Ona.”

The next morning, as you mindlessly scrolled through Instagram, you noticed Millie’s recent close friends story. You felt a knot form in your stomach as you saw a picture of her and Nia together, smiling at the camera. You knew that if Millie didn’t know your secret before, she definitely did now. You frantically searched for any clues in the photo, trying to see if there was anything that could give away your past. The fear of losing everything you had worked for began to consume you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that your world was about to come crashing down.

You quickly called Millie, hoping to get some answers about the previous night. When she answered, you could hear the sound of a bustling coffee shop in the background. Millie sounded chipper, but her cheeriness quickly evaporated when you brought up Nia. You explained that you had seen her in the Instagram story and asked what happened. Millie hesitated before finally admitting that she had met up with Nia last night. As you listened to Millie defend Nia, insisting that she wasn't a bad person, you felt your frustration growing. It was clear that Millie was taking Nia’s side, and you couldn't believe it. How could she not see what Nia was trying to do? You tried to explain your side of the story, but Millie wasn’t hearing it. “Well how would you feel if someone called you an embarrassment, Y/N?”

You felt your stomach twist with guilt as Millie’s words hung in the air. She was right, you shouldn’t have said those things to Nia. You knew that now. “I’m sorry, Millie,” you said quietly, feeling ashamed. Millie took note of your silence and sighed. “Look, let’s meet up and talk about it, okay? You don’t have to apologise to me, but you should probably make it right with Nia,” she said, her voice softening. You agreed to meet up, feeling grateful for Millie’s kindness and for the opportunity to set things right. As you hung up the phone, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. How were you going to face Nia and explain yourself?

That night, you met up with Nia and Millie at a bar to try and make amends. You felt nervous as you sat down with them, but you knew you needed to do this. You told her you were sorry for hurting her and acting the way you did. She seemed to take it well at first, but then she asked, “So have you told anyone about us?” “No, Nia, I haven’t.” You said quietly, which seemed to frustrate her. “Well, well, well, there it is. So nothing has changed, you are still just as embarrassed. Is your apology supposed to mean anything to me?” 

Luckily, Millie stepped in and suggested some drinks to lighten the mood. You all took some shots and Millie brought up some lighter subjects as the alcohol was starting to kick in. Before you knew it, you were singing karaoke with Nia, belting out some tunes you hadn’t heard in years. It felt liberating and for a moment, you forgot about the tension between the two of you. The music brought back so many memories, making you realise your embarrassment had overshadowed all the good memories from your time in LA. You wrapped an arm around Nia as you yelled, “I really am sorry Nia, I will make it up to you, promise.”

The next morning you woke up with a raging hangover, but a small smile grew on your face as you recalled the events of last night. You strolled towards the living room to be met with Ona, who had clearly been waiting for you. “Where were you last night?” She asked coldly. “I was out,” you said, “do you know where the paracetamol is?” “Out? Where? Who with?” Ona quickly followed up, voice stil frigid. “Millie, and also Nia.” You mumbled. “Mia? I thought you weren't that close with her.” 

You stumbled towards the kitchen, wincing at the pounding in your head. “Nia, not Mia. And it was just a night out with Millie, nothing more.” you say, searching through the medicine cabinet for paracetamol. Ona followed you, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Y/N, you’ve been acting strange lately. Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion. You swallowed the pills with a glass of water and turned to face her. “No, everything’s fine. I just needed a night out with friends.” Ona gave you a long, hard look, once again clearly not convinced.

“I can’t keep pretending I believe these lies you tell me. I think I might need some space, Y/N.” You felt a pit in your stomach. You knew she was right. Your recent behaviour had been mysterious, and you hadn’t been entirely truthful with her. You took a deep breath and tried to explain, “You’re right, I haven’t been completely honest with you. I promise I’ll tell you everything soon, I just need some time to figure things out, okay?” Ona looked at you, her eyes softening slightly. “You can’t keep pushing me away like this, Y/N. I need to know what’s going on.” You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “I know, and I will tell you, but I need a little more time to figure out how to say it.” Ona nodded, and you felt the weight of your recent actions settling in.

The inevitability of revealing the secret had finally caught up with you. You had kept it buried deep within yourself for far too long. As you recovered from your hangover, a plan began to form in your mind. You reached out to Millie, knowing that she likely knew everything at this point, and asked for her help in bringing the truth to light. 

The next day, with the help of Millie and some staff members, you gathered the whole team in a conference room before training. Everyone sat down and as you stood in front of them, a big screen behind you, they all sent you confused glares, especially Ona, whom you told very little about your plan for this morning. Millie hushed everyone, and your nerves began to take hold. “Greetings, everyone,” you began, “for a long time I have kept my past a secret to all of you, but today that changes. What you’re about to witness might be shocking at first, but rest assured, that stuff is in the past, I am no longer involved in such practices, and I am not the person I was back then.” 

You took a deep breath as you moved away from the screen, giving Millie a small nod, who then hit play. You sat down on the front row, not wanting to face any of your teammates reactions. A video started playing, showing a bunch of alternative looking teenagers in a car. “We are on our way to Vegaaas.” One of them said. You cringed as you waited for the realisation to dawn behind you. “OH MY GOD,” Ella shouted suddenly, “Y/N, is that you with the pink hair?” You buried your face in your hands as a song began playing in the background.

You kept your face hidden in your hands as the video kept playing, showing you during the most embarrassing period of your life, singing and dancing with the members of the poppunk band you used to be a part of. The laughter and screaming of your teammates rang loud in your ears as you endured the three-minute video, each embarrassing detail pointed out feeling like an eternity. When the last chorus ended, which everyone had sang along too, Millie yanked you by the wrist, pulling you out of hiding and into the spotlight. Your heart pounded as you stood before the team, their eyes fixed on you, most of them still recovering from the laughter. “It’s time for some questions.” Millie declared, a sly grin spreading across her face.

“Alright, go on then, ask away.” You said, knowing an intense interrogation would be inevitable at this point, to which several hands shot up immediately. “You, pink shirt.” Millie said, pointing at Ella, pretending to be hosting a press conference. “Oh my god, where to start,” Ella began, “just- what was that?” You sighed. “When I was a teenager I lived in LA for two years. During that time I joined a band, this was them.” you answered. “What instrument did you play?” Alessia inquired. “Bass, next!” “Were you famous?” Leah asked, to which you chuckled. “We had one minor hit, but not really. They did have somewhat of a breakthrough after I left though.” Some people audibly gasped at that. 

“Do you still talk to them?” Maya asked. “Not really. When I left I kind of dove into my football career, never looking back. Although recently I have been getting in touch with one of them again.” You answered. “Do you have any regrets?” Millie, momentarily losing her role as moderator, caught you off guard with her question. You pondered the question for a while before stating, “No. I don’t.” A small smile growing on your face.

As the interrogation about your past came to an end, the staff interrupted, signalling that it was time for training. The teasing followed you into the changing room where your teammates continued to poke fun at your previous life, singing the song and scouring the internet for embarrassing photos. Despite their laughter, you couldn’t help but notice the quietness of your girlfriend. She remained silent throughout the morning, refusing to participate in the banter, and you knew something was wrong. Trying to be discreet, you quietly approached her as you laced up your shoes, “Ona, can we talk after training?” She nodded, but the unease lingered in the air. Training couldn't end soon enough, as the jokes persisted, and Ona seemed to avoid you at all costs.

When training was finally over, you and Ona hastily left to your apartment. As you sat with Ona on the couch, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about the way you had been acting lately. You knew why she had been quiet all day. You had hurt her by making her think that the secret from your past was something far more sinister than it actually was.

“I’m sorry, Ona,” you began, turning towards her. “I should have told you about the band from the start, instead of acting all suspicious and making you think it was something terrible. I know I hurt you and I feel terrible about it.” Ona remained quiet for a moment, her eyes fixed on her lap. Finally, she looked up at you and spoke in a soft voice. “I was just scared, you know? I thought you had done something really bad, something that would change the way I saw you. But now that I know the truth, I just feel silly.”

You took her hand in yours and squeezed it gently. “You have nothing to feel silly about, Ona. I understand why you were scared, and I should have been more open with you from the start. I promise to be more honest with you in the future.” you said genuinely. “You made me think you were secretly married, or something, or a murderer!” she chuckled, playfully smacking your leg with her hand. “Wait, you really thought that?” you gasped. “Well not really, but I just got confused and my mind went places!” she said, looking a bit embarrassed at her confession. “I’m really sorry Ona.” you said once more.

“So bass, huh?”, Ona said, changing the subject. “Can you still play?” “I do still have my old bass hidden away in the back of my closet, but I haven’t practiced in a long time. Though I guess playing an instrument should be like riding a bike right?”

It wasn’t. You opened the old hardcase to reveal your beige fender precision bass, covered in old stickers you had picked up whilst touring and attending concerts back in the US. “Wow, you were such a loser.” Ona teased. “See, this is why I didn’t want anyone to know!” you replied, sending her a pout. “I’m kidding, I love it. Now play something for me!”

After tuning your bass for what felt like minutes (it was so out of tune you were afraid a string might snap), you tested your muscle memory by attempting to play one of your old songs. You cringed at the sound of the first few notes and quickly stopped playing. Your fingers fumbled over the frets, struggling to find the right notes. The song that used to come so naturally to you now felt like a foreign language. It was like trying to reconnect with a version of yourself that no longer existed. 

“Hey, keep going!” Ona encouraged as she noticed your defeat. “What, you didn’t think that was terrible?” you quipped, raising an eyebrow. She laughed, “Oh, your playing was definitely terrible, but the bass looks good on you.” she said, sending you a wink.

With Ona's encouragement, you kept playing for a bit longer, trying to remember the bass lines. Gradually, it started to come back to you, and the song began to sound more familiar. Ona watched you intently, her smile growing wider as you got better. “You know, I like getting to know about your past,” she said, still smiling at you. “Even if it's embarrassing to you.”

You felt a little pang of guilt wash over you again, but you were grateful for Ona's understanding. You decided to take the opportunity to show her more about your past, and pulled out some old photos from your teenage years. As you scrolled through them together, you told her about your experiences touring with the band, the crazy things you did on the road, and the friends you made along the way. Ona listened attentively, asking questions and laughing at your stories. It felt good to finally share this part of yourself with someone, and you were glad it was with her.

“So this Nia girl, are you guys good? Things seemed so intense with you two.” Ona inquired. “Yeah, I may have hurt her in my embarrassment.” You answered, looking down at your feet. “I know just what to do to make things right.” Ona said as she shot up to grab her phone.

That evening, you sat in a bar, taking a sip of your beer whilst nervously wiggling your feet. You couldn’t believe you had agreed to this, but your girlfriend had convinced you it was the right thing to do. “You didn’t tell me the whole team was coming.” you said, frowning at Ona. She grinned back at you. “Don’t be nervous, querida. You’ve played to bigger crowds before.” You couldn’t help but feel like this was some sort of payback for your recent behaviour, which you definitely deserved. “They’re here!” Ona exclaimed, making you turn around to find Millie and Nia walking into the bar, Nia’s eyes widening when she saw you. 

You made your way to the small podium opposite the bar. You grabbed a microphone and signalled to the sound guy that you were ready. “Hello everyone,” you said into the microphone, taking a deep breath. “Could I have your attention please?” You grabbed your bass from behind the curtain, causing several gasps from your teammates and, of course, Nia. “I have an apology to make to an old friend of mine who’s here tonight. Nia, I'm truly sorry for the way I acted. If you can forgive me, please join in with me.”

As you began to play the bass line from one of your old songs, you could feel the weight of everyone’s attention on you. You were nervous at first, but as you played, you started to feel more confident. After a few bars, Nia hesitantly joined in, her voice blending perfectly with your playing. You shared a smile, both of you finally letting go of the tension that had been building between you. As the song progressed, you could see the your teammates tapping their feet and nodding their heads along to the beat. By the end of the song, the whole bar was cheering and clapping, and you felt a sense of pride and relief wash over you.

As the song came to an end, the bar erupted into applause. You looked out into the crowd and saw your friends, including Ona, with wide grins on their faces. But it was Nia who surprised you the most. She walked up to you and hugged you tightly, whispering in your ear, “I forgive you, Y/N.” “It’s Picky.” You smiled.

As you walked Nia towards the bar to order her a drink, you casually asked, “By the way, that photo was yours, wasn’t it?” Her face broke into a sly smile. “Photo? I have no idea what you are talking about.” she retorted. You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with her denial. “Really? So it was just some random stranger leaving that package on my doorstep?” you inquired, your tone laced with sarcasm. Nia’s grin widened. “I guess so. Perhaps they got a little mad after being called an embarrassment and were hoping to remind you of some positive memories.” she suggested. You playfully nudged her elbow. “Some insightful stranger they were.”

After your performance, the evening blossomed into an unforgettable night out with your team. The occasional teasing towards your past, fuelled by Nia’s humorous anecdotes, only added to the lively atmosphere. Everyone hit it off with Nia, and you were relieved that she decided to forgive you. The night was filled with music, and your teammates kept requesting your old songs to the DJ, who was gradually becoming visibly annoyed. It was heartwarming to witness everyone having such a great time, and it felt freeing to let your hair down and revel in the moment with your friends. As the night came to an end, you walked out of the bar with your arm around Ona, feeling grateful for the amazing people in your life.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

✽ Part 3 - A chance discovery and a bit of mischief

These little drabbles keep getting longer and longer...

Life had been slower since your parents passed from sickness a few years back. One of your father's business associates now handled company matters, but was kind enough to keep you informed of the goings on regarding shipments to the museum. It felt like there wasn't much to do nowadays after a few unsuccessful seasons in society, spending most of your time either upkeeping the estate left to you or in the company of your cousin who practically lived in the house with you the last few months.

Passing by familiar friendly faces weathered and old from years in service, you weaved through various wooden containers packed full of priceless relics, getting a first look as they were unloaded before any of the public could get their sights on them.

A noise drew your attention from the delicate Nubian bracelet you'd been admiring. There was a slight commotion when one of the smaller crates overturned onto the warehouse floor, a very flustered new hand getting chewed out by a man three times his age as the surrounding workers started gathering everything up. To his luck there was nothing fragile in the container, but you'd seen something small roll under one of the carts and had quickly hiked your skirts up to grab whatever it was.

Sitting back on your heels, you stared at the dark little metal contraption in your hands, educated mind picking apart every hieroglyph as you rose from your spot on the floor and walked back over to one of the unloaders. Scanning the manifest for the crate in question, you found nothing indicating towards the little box's presence even after having one of the others turn their eye to the paperwork to double check you weren't missing something. None of them had seen anything like it before, nor you to be sure.

You decided to take it up to Dr. Price for his insight, mind a little too curious to wait for the other museum curators to get their hands on it first to give you an answer. You hoped he wasn't indisposed with other matters, glad to find him alone in his study peering over the dreary headache inducing paperwork that kept most of his attention during the day.

He allowed you to interrupt his work, rounding his desk to place the item down in front of him with buzzing excitement. At first he stared at it with furrowed brows, turning it this way and that with analytical intrigue, happy for the brief distraction from the mundane. He must have caught something you missed as his eyes flashed, positioning his fingers just so to press down on something, surprising the two of you with the way the device snapped open into an almost star shape at the bottom.

Price's interest suddenly turned to that of indifference once he turned it over, revealing the hollowed out interior that at some point must've housed something you think.

But... there! What is that marking on the inside?

Gently removing the box from his grasp, you angle the interior of it towards the light to inspect the writing you'd glimpsed. Where the markings on the outside seemed to have been purposely stamped in during the initial creation, the symbols within looked to have been added with something sharp after the fact in the ancient Egyptian equivalent of chicken scratch.

It wasn't a word you were overly familiar with - your brain taking a moment to pull from long ago knowledge - but you couldn't help the gasp that followed as you whispered the name, "Hamunaptra."

The scoff that followed from Price had you feeling very much like the little girl the adults had chuckled at when you'd first shown them the book you'd found full of myths and legends, softly chided for believing in such nonsense and corrected on the differences between fact and fiction.

"Got more important things to do than go hunting down ghost stories, love." Price spoke up at you from his spot reclining back in his chair, hands folded casually over his abdomen as he gave you the look usually reserved for long suffering parents.

It didn't matter what you tried to say afterwards to convince him to maybe consider the possibility the tales were even partially based on some element of truth. He dismissed you away with a wave of his hand, brushing off your words before instructing you to take it back down to the warehouse so one of the employees could put it away with all the other knick knacks in storage.

You left his office with your head down from your scolding, a bad taste in your mouth at not being taken seriously even if the rational part of your mind told you what you'd always known: the lost city of the dead was just a myth invented by ancient Arab storytellers to amuse Greek and Roman tourists. This was a topic of interest for the occassional treasure hunter, not scholars.

You quickly deposited it right back where you'd found it before taking your leave of the museum, having had enough excitement for one day and needing some time to cool off from your disappointment.

It was only a few days later when you'd found yourself sitting out on the balcony with your dearest cousin Kyle (freshly back from a months long trip to Tanta and mostly sober), recanting him with the circumstances and conversation surrounding the artifact. Even now it was a subject that seemed to plague your mind, having done your best to try and ignore the way it scratched an itch you hadn't felt in many a year. You wouldn't admit outloud to the various drawings you had in your sketchbook of the item in question shoved beneath your pillowcase.

Kyle listened intently to your ramblings, slouched forward in his wicker chair idly swirling two fingers worth of whiskey in his glass before suddenly speaking up after a moments contemplative silence. "Want to find out if it's real?"

Now it was your turn to scoff, rolling your eyes as you tucked your legs up under yourself in a decidedly rare unladylike fashion. Typical Kyle trying to lure you in with fresh bait to go off and do something deemed irresponsible and imbolic by normal society. You casually reminded him it was just an old wives tale, but he shrugged unbothered as he raised the glass of amber liquid to his lips, one side raised in a slight smirk.

"You just leave that part to me, dolly. I'll get your answer for you."

He'd practically disappeared after that, only coming home late into the evenings well after the staff had gone to bed and leaving early in the mornings before the sun had barely risen. If it wasn't for the pantry being pillaged no one would have ever suspected him of hanging around the estate in the first place. At least it gave him something to think about other than the memories you knew still haunted him. And Kyle had always loved sinking his teeth into a challenge.

It wasn't even a week later that you'd come back from a promenade along the river to discover your cousin lounging in your bed as if he owned the place, hands behind his head staring at you with a Cheshire cat grin that you knew could only spell trouble.

Imagine your surprise when he told you he'd managed to track down info about a man who'd claimed to have seen the fabled city with his own two eyes.

Your first instinct was to call nonsense on the idea. Preposterous. Ridiculous. Absurd. You didn't know how your cousin came to that conclusion, but surely he had been swindled by cheap honeyed words half drunk at a bar. He stood behind you in the mirror as you sat at your vanity, pulling the pin keeping your hat in place to take your hair down, his hands on your shoulders and expression adamant as he held your gaze in the reflection.

You could see the mischievous youth from yesteryear in the sparkle of his eyes, ever ready to take on the world and the challenges brought forth by it. But it was overshadowed by the man he'd become, molded by hard work and dedication to king and country. He rarely spoke of the horrors he'd seen in the British Army, but they were evident in the lines of his face. Kyle had always been a handsome lad who'd chased plenty of skirts in his time, capable of charming the stripes off a zebra if you let him. But you knew he had experience well beyond the comprehension of your comparably simple life.

If he was looking at you with such surety, then you knew better than to keep spouting words of disbelief.

What you did object to however was the part where he was trying to convince you to sneak into the museum and steal back the little metal box 'for insurance purposes'.

"Who said anything about stealin', dolly? We're merely borrowin'." Yeah, right. As if the terminology would matter to the authorities should you happen to get caught.

You cursed his sly mouth and persuasive personality as you found yourself wandering down aisles and aisles of unsorted artifacts, scanning shelves and half empty crates for the item in question. The collection in the storage rooms was large enough that you could spend hours inside and hardly make a dent, but you were keeping your eyes out for the more recent additions towards the front. It had been hardly anything to walk in there past the loading bay crew with a pleasant demure smile on your face as if you belonged there just as much as them.

You'd almost given up in frustration when you spotted it hidden behind an elaborate stone bust of Sekhmet, easily glanced over as if hidden in plain sight. No one was the wiser when you whisked it away into one of your pockets, strolling back out past the men with the same carefree attitude you always carried yourself with. They didn't pay attention to the way your hands shook in the folds of your skirts from barely restrained nerves nor the way you slouched against the nearest building to calm your racing heart. Mark your words, you were going to whip Kyle for this.

Now all there was left to do was to go meet back up with him to hunt down the man he had assured you about. You wondered where you might go about even finding such a person...

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

<< ✿ Previous ✿ << ✽ >> ✿ Next ✿ >>

[Edited 5/8/24: changed formatting, title, tags, and numbering system]

[muzzleroars]

I love the personalization you give V2 in your most recent comic, I’m reminded of Plato’s Socrates, they’re one step ahead of Michael’s arguments, picking them apart and shaking up expectations (and being a bit of a troll to boot), but from that I also get the feeling that these are questions V2’s already asked itself.

It’s a thinker, an asker, programmed and taught with human intelligence and curiosity, and in a world mostly bereft of people thinking and asking questions like them I bet it’d turn that curiosity inwards.

I also bet that V2’s very appreciative of having someone to bounce questions off of, someone of a different mindset and origins to provide differing lines of thought and alternative viewpoints. Argument need not be a negative experience, after all.

I’m betting a lot of things, they’re just stuck in my head now and I can’t help but think about how this snarky warrior-poet would contemplate its life. So perfectly human but also so perfectly inhuman, detached and attached to how we think.

I think I sent a rant about how much I love the way you write and draw a while back, I can tell you put so much thought and effort into your work, and I want to reiterate that, I ADORE the work you put in, it shows and it shines so brightly. Thank you for posting it.

(see this!)

WAAAUUUGHHH THANK YOU,,,,i've been wanting to do a lot of little character interaction comics, and with settling on a simpler style to get them done, i'll definitely have a few more i'll make!!

but that is a lot of what i think about v2 as a character - it's very different from the machines that surround it and didn't find any that could understand its curious, inquiring mind, so it had a lot of conversations with itself. it got to know gabriel, which was its first true conversational partner ever since humans got wiped out, but michael is a much different experience for it. while gabriel is great to talk with since he's gregarious and charming, michael is introverted and, for a warrior angel, a rather deep thinker with obvious existential questions weighing on his mind. yet those thoughts aren't allowed to go anywhere because mike needs to constantly keep himself "on track" and answer himself with what his faith dictates. v2, as a rather free thinker, just goes where logic leads it and accepts that as the truth. sure, it knows here that it's poking at mike by pointing out the similarities (it really can't help being a LITTLE annoying lol), but it also views mike as someone with a deep but narrow mind. he has so much potential, v2 KNOWS he's a lot like it in many ways, he just refuses to get out of the comfort zone of his rigid dogma. so it does something small here. because v2 sees this all differently - its name is perfectly unique, as it is the only one that is the second of the v-series, the same way mike's name is unique as he is a warrior of god named for his own battle cry. it knows he won't agree, he'll argue the differences in his talking points, but all v2 ever wants is for mike to think. he has a mind starved for it and wanting it, but no one could challenge him in any previous connection he had. he is the prince of heaven, always so right and always so intimidating, but v2 can start cracking away at him little by little...and it's exactly what both of them have wanted. they begin having healthy arguments, and i think their relationship is always marked by debating one another. it gives v2 the conversations it's always wanted and it gives mike more and more room to breathe in a philosophical mind that had always been so smothered.

[quitealotofsodapop]

@latvian-spider; referencing this post about Reborn! SWK & LEM accidentally making tree babies. They show up and are *covered* in baby monkeys that look like them.

Peach: "How?" Smokey: "Gardening mishap." Peach: "That raises further questions!" Liang: "Genius here [points thumb at Smokey] swallowed the pit inside of the manfruit he stole from the abbey. It gets stuck in his body, he hocks it up and buries it on the Mountain. We both tend to it on-and-off for the next year. We both check it one day and *pop!* tree full of baby monkeys." *room is silent* Dasheng: "...WHY?" Liang: "Turns out the pit and sapling of the ginseng tree absorbs the Dao of its surroundings. It stuck around us for so long that the only "fruit" was monkey demons with our genetics." Sugar: "Wait... isn't the ginseng tree perennial? It grows a new batch every couple thousand years..." Smokey: "Our tree sorta withered in on itself when the last baby fell - like it sorta expended all it's energy. Probably why only the tree at the abbey produces multiple fruitings." Plum: "I mean its definitely a lot cleaner than childbirth, I'll say that." Smokey, a baby climbing on his head: "Higher chance of unexpected yields though." Xiao Qi + the 5 Stone-fruit baby monkeys: *happy chirping!*

Reborn!SWK and LEM basically had mutliple Jttw stories together before they realised that they were taking care of the same Baby-Fruit tree.

The names of the 5 bonus fruit babies and their identifiers are;

Xiǎoxìng/小杏 ("little apricot"). Very light brown fur. Likes to charm people and "sing" (sounds like chirping) along to music.

Xiǎotáo/小桃 ("little peach"). Mostly white fur that turns into a gradient of light tan, like the colours on a peach. Calm and curious.

Xiǎolǐzi/小李子 ("little plum"). Mostly dark brown-black fur, has a sour look on their face most of the time. Grumpy/sleepy.

Xiǎoyīng/小樱 ("little cherry"). White fur with some fawn-like brown spots. Bright red face marking. Giggles at everything.

Xiǎozǎo/小枣 ("little jujube"). Dark brown fur, looks like a mini-Smokey. Very mischievous.

The Reborn couple ("fruitiedads") saw the stone fruit association and went all in. Plus the kids all have nature powers like their big brother, so it fits. Xiao Qi is a delighted older brother.

[therentyoupay]

18. "You look lost." for jelsa ??? :3c

from this askbox meme!

"On the contrary," she says, slotting a hand over one cocked hip, sending shimmering fractals of reflected light across the inner walls of the glacier. "I live here."

Jack blinks. "Okay. So... Am I lost?"

The look of mild antagonism in her eyes disappears, and the judgmental slant of her brow softens into something more perplexed and curious than defensive. Jack twists his staff behind his back with a flick of his wrist—partly to seem unarmed but mostly to fill the silence.

"Are you?" the woman in white asks, her gaze narrowing at his bare feet on the ice. Concern curves into the lines of her mouth, her brows. "How did you get in here?"

Jack wasn't sure how well 'Oh! I was just flying around and passed through this funny-looking cloud and found this super cool glacier in the middle of the sea and decided to poke around!' would, no pun intended, fly.

"I don't know," he shrugs, sloooowly making his way closer to where she stands in the center of the cavern. He is careful not to watch her directly, and instead makes a show of looking up and around and admiring the giant slabs of ancient ice—he can feel the Old Power in them, kind of similar to how Manny feels—but out of the corner of his eye, he can see that she still stiffens up, wary of his not-so-subtle encroaching. Her shoulders, he notices, are bare. He tightens his grip on his staff, behind his back. "How do people usually get in here?"

"They don't."

Interesting. "How did you get in here?"

She doesn't answer him, which isn't a surprise at this point. "You aren't wearing any shoes," she observes, a question mark hanging in the freezing air of the chamber.

Jack knows he should try to be polite—has actually been working really hard on it, thank you very much—but he can't resist just a tiny bit of cheek. "I'm not," he agrees, and to emphasize his point, he takes another step closer to her with a cheerful glint in his eyes. He crosses both hands behind his back to clutch his staff behind him—relaxed, but ready.

You're like me, Jack knows, but not?

The woman in white's gaze travels over his hoodie, his old pants, his messy hair. It lingers on the drawstring cords at his collar: on the frost that lingers there. Her gaze snaps to his like an accusation. Like a wish.

"You're like me," she says, "but not."

Jack feels the magic in the walls, threaded into the frozen veins of this ancient labyrinth of secrets. Some instinct inside compels him to slowly reach out a hand and twist the molecules of air above his palm into sparkling diamonds of swirling snow, delicate and fragile: he watches her as she watches, transfixed, as his snowflakes dissolve into the air and become a part of the very fabric of the cavern that contains them, forever with the memory of this moment. Her eyes widen, and her fists clench.

Interesting.

"I don't think I'm lost," Jack says, slowly, like he might to a skittish deer; he knows, in this moment, that she has never met anyone like herself, either. I think we were supposed to find each other, he knows, but does not say.

The woman in white considers him. Raises her delicate palm aloft. Jack swallows. Now who's the deer?

Watches as, from the fabric of time and space above her palm, she pulls forth a wave of Old Magic so powerfully condensed that Jack nearly stumbles back—only catches himself at the last moment, as his staff drops to his side, at the ready—and the woman in white's Old Magic coalesces into a tiny flake of glimmering ice and snow. She briefly closes her eyes, and warmth suffuses the flake, dissolving it exquisitely into nothing but memory, and leaving the air of the cavern alive and singing.

The woman in white looks him in the eye; he'd gotten rather too close when he'd thought he was being sneaky, and now it's hard to meet the blue of her gaze. But he does.

"I don't think you're lost, either," she whispers. She glances at his hands.

Jack swallows. The air in the cavern surrounding them feels alive. He feels like he could do anything; when her gaze returns to his, he knows it. For whatever reason—we are supposed to find each other.

Slowly, through the heavy invisible energy sending sharp shocks of electricity over his skin, Jack Frost reaches out his hand to the woman in white, and waits for her to take it.

→ on ao3

[chasseurdeloup]

Toss a Coin to Your Hunter

TIMING: Early March LOCATION: Another Castle PARTIES:  @eliaskahtri and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY:  Elias runs into Kaden while he's on the job at the arcade and they both find themselves in unexpected territory. CONTENT WARNINGS: Nerdery, that's it.

It was a Friday night, and Elias was trying to make an effort to go out and do things instead of letting himself rot alone inside. He needed to branch out more if he wanted to make more friends. Another Castle was the arcade below his apartment in the downtown area, so he decided to stop by. He had made sure to wait until past seven so that it was a bit of an older crowd when he arrived. The last thing he needed was to be surrounded by a bunch of college kids while he was in his mid-thirties. 

A Mariokart tournament was going on, and Elias wanted to see what the scene was like. He wasn’t the best at the game, but some friendly competition with people who just wanted to have fun was always an option for getting out and meeting new people. He spotted a familiar face he hadn’t seen in a few months. 

“Kaden?” Elias called out, tilting his head to one side with a curious expression. “Didn’t expect to see you in a place like this. You a fan of arcade games?” The Pacman game to his right beeped, and he looked over, only to see it back on the menu screen. He shrugged, then turned his attention back to the man.

There was one reason and one reason only that would lead Kaden into a place like this: a monster. Or, well, a stray animal. Maybe a ghost. Or a shifter or something, perhaps a curse or– Alright, there were a few reasons why Kaden would walk into an arcade full of loud sounds and bright lights. The point was that none of those reasons were to play games. They didn’t appeal to him much. For one, he never got the chance to play them as a kid so he felt stupid and terrible at every single game he ever attempted. Even though he wasn’t as intense as his sister, he still hated losing. Anytime he tried to play, he was bad, felt bad, and then found himself frustrated. So, good for the people who liked that kind of thing, Kaden just wasn’t one of them.

Instead, he was here due to a call to animal control that Gary promptly wrote off. There were some weird “hamster-looking things with horns chewing through parts of the store,” apparently. Gary informed them that animal control was not pest control, and he wasn’t wrong. Animal control didn’t deal with rodent infestations, even if those rodents were supernatural in nature: snicker-snackers. Which was why Kaden wasn’t there as animal control. Not officially, at least. He told the kid working at the front he was there as animal control, that he was there to help. Best part about working off the job was he wouldn’t have to write up any fucking paperwork about this. 

Kaden crouched down to get a better look at the floor, the machines, the carpet, and anything he could get his eyes on, hunting for any signs of the creatures. A brick or two were wedged under the legs of one pinball machine to keep it balanced, tiny teeth marks etched into the edge of the wood. They were lucky it wasn’t worse. He was about to crawl towards the next machine, see if he could figure out where they might have gone, when he heard his name. 

The ranger jumped and went to stand. Only, he forgot he was underneath a pinball machine. His head thunked against the bottom of the table and he could here clicking and clacking and bells and whistles going off right above him. “Putain!” 

Kaden rubbed the back of his head as he slowly backed his way out from under the arcade game to get a better look at who he was talking to. Merde, that was going to be a bump. “Elias?” he said, raising a brow when he came face to face with the other man. “What are you doing here?” 

A pause. That was a stupid question. “Nevermind. I can guess.” This was very much his sort of scene. “Anyway, just here for a job. Animal control job. All that.”

Surprised by his name being called, Elias whirled his head around to see Kaden rubbing the back of his head with a curious gaze. “Oh, hey!” He replied with a smile. “I live above the place,” he explained with a shrug of his shoulder. “Thought I’d do my best to try and not rot away in my apartment like I want to.” He spoke, realizing maybe he was being a bit too honest with someone that was virtually a stranger. “On a job?” He asked. He knew very little of Kaden, but he knew enough to know that he wasn’t the type to play video games. 

Elias looked over to one of the TV setups, it was on the menu screen for one of the Witcher games. Elias smiled at the idea of the game. It was a compelling story, he’d read the books too. Something about it was drawing him in, though. Like he’d forgotten all about his conversation with Kaden, Elias began to slowly walk toward the machine like it had a siren song calling out to him, his eyes faraway as he slinked toward the machine. It was so entrancing, and in that moment, he felt like he was there. The sudden need to break out into poetry came over him, to flirt with everything that moved… what was happening? He blinked, trying to draw himself away. 

“I think there’s something weird about this game,” he said aloud, not sure if Kaden was still listening or if he’d gone back to what he was doing. “I can’t look away.” He then said, starting to feel as if something magical was afoot. “Hey, Kaden, you see this?” Elias felt his knees start to buckle, and suddenly, the man was passed out on the floor, but really, he was somewhere else entirely. 

Elias Kahtri was no longer a boring, human man. No, he was… a bard! Master Dandelion! Elias blinked and looked around, realizing he was in the center of the town of the game. Oh shit, he thought with wide eyes, looking down at his outfit to realize that he was the sidekick to Geralt. “I’m in the fucking game!” He shouted, drawing the stares of various NPCs.

Kaden’s face scrunched with concern. Rot away in his apartment? Didn’t sound great. Not that it mattered to the ranger one way or another what Elias did or didn’t do with his free time. Something about the statement, though, it was concerning. “Yeah, on a job. You know, animal control.”

Before Kaden had finished his sentence, the man was drifting away towards one of the glowing screens. “Hey, I didn’t think I was that boring,” he said as he craned his neck to get a look at what the hell was going on over there. What could possibly be so distracting about that screen to lose focus that fast? 

His brows narrowed, watching the pixels on the screen. Looked like a standard video game to him, but Elias was entranced, drawing ever closer. “I don’t,” he told the man, “and I think you should step away from the–” 

Elias was sucked up into the game itself before Kaden could say putain.

Merde. Kaden ran over to the screen and felt gravity falling away and the world shifting around him. In the blink of an eye, he was face down in the mud and wearing something strangely heavy. A lot heavier than his usual gear. 

He grumbled as he pushed himself up off the ground, wiping the mud on his pants. Which were leather. And just above the waistband was chainmail. Not to mention the gloves, also leather and something that looked like armor. “Putain?” he said, giving himself another one over before looking around.

They were definitely not inside the arcade anymore but somewhere outside. Somewhere he’d never seen. It looked almost medieval. And Elias was wearing some silly outfit with an even sillier hat and had a lute strapped to his back. “We’re what?!”  he said to the other man. No, that couldn’t be. They were in a game? “What the hell kind of game is this? Don’t fucking tell me I have to save a princess from a castle or some shit.” He muttered more curse words under his breath. “Any clue how the fuck we get out of here?” 

Swallowing, Elias looked over to Kaden to see that he was dressed in heavy leather armor and mud covered his face. “You’re a witcher.” Elias spoke with a grin, suddenly glad that his years of video games were finally paying off in the grand scheme of things. “They kill monsters, but only if they get paid. Which means there are monsters in this world too, except these ones are programmed to attack on sight.” Elias pulled a face at the idea, then shook his head. 

“Well if I know what’s going on correctly, I’m just your sidekick. I write prose and sing about your adventures and triumphs.” Elias pulled the lute off his back and strummed the strings, and it was obvious he had no idea how to play it. It was out of tune and the cacophony of strings made the man wince at his own attempt. “Okay, maybe I won’t sing. That’s… probably for the benefit of all.” He strapped the lute back onto his back, then shrugged his shoulders.

“I know this game. It’s the third Witcher game. It’s a roleplaying game where your decisions shape the game and you have a grand adventure and kill monsters and the big bad guys are this army that when it shows up, everything turns frozen. Elias waved his hands around animatedly as he spoke, beginning to walk through the old-fashioned village. “If I’m right, then this is the start of the game.” 

Elias suddenly snapped a finger, then pointed to Kaden. “Also everyone hates you because you’re a witcher. They call your kind mutants. So… we have to watch out for normal people as well as monsters. Don’t say anything weird and we should be fine. As for getting out, I don’t know. Maybe we have to complete the starting area? Which is by defeating a gryphon…” Elias trailed off, suddenly worried of how they were going to pull that off. “Or… maybe we can find something easier, like a fucking off button.”

Elias was saying a lot of damn words and they might have made sense to him, but they didn’t make any of it make any more sense to Kaden. The one thing he did catch was “kill monsters.” Putain de merde, even in another fucking reality he was hunting goddamn monsters. With a sword, apparently. There was a crossbow on him, too, but it sure as hell wasn’t as powerful as the compound one he had at home. Looked a little useless, if he was being honest. Sword it was, he supposed. While the other man was chattering on, Kaden was trying to figure out what other shit he was carrying on him. He wasn’t sure how the fuck all of it was in one little bag but he figured he should be grateful that the video game logic persisted in this case. There were bottles of strange substances, more weapons, books, some pieces of metal, gems, powder, full hides and… a broken oar? What the fuck?

His gaze shot back up to meet Elias at the word “gryphon.” Kaden blinked back at the man. He couldn’t be serious. And yet, nothing about his countenance suggested that was the case. “A fucking gryphon?” he repeated. “And wait, did you say mutants? I’m a goddamn mutant now?” Then again, he considered what he was normally: a guy with enhanced strength, hearing, tougher than normal skin, and the ability to sense werewolves. Alright, maybe not much had changed. Kaden sighed and wiped a gloved hand down his face. “Fine. Lead the way. I guess.” 

As they started to walk, he realized how goddamn slow he felt. And he couldn’t pick up the pace, not without running. Which sounded exhausting. He glanced around and saw there were horses. “Hey, do I get one of those?” he asked Elias, pointing to one of the horses hitched to a post. 

Elias watched as Kaden slowly came to terms with the reality they found themselves in. “Uh, yeah. You’re a mutant. And you’re judged for it. Instead of being praised for hunting monsters, you’re a mild inconvenience but also useful when needed.” He shrugged his shoulders then pulled the lute off of his back and began to strum it. Having no musical talent, it sounded cacophonous and wrong. “I…” He strummed a few more times, then gave up and put the lute away again. “Okay, maybe not.” He spoke, frowning. “Man, if I’m going to be stuck as a bard, at least give me magical musical talent.” He complained, kicking at the dirt under his foot. 

“Yeah, a gryphon! We’ll… totally get our asses kicked. I’m not a fighter.” He scratched at the back of his neck, the reality of their situation finally kicking in. As they walked along the path, Elias stopped in his tracks as Kaden pointed to a bay horse. “Actually…” He took a good look at the horse, then grinned. “That’s actually your horse!” He told Kaden with a bright smile. “Name’s Roach, isn’t she a beauty? Call her, she’ll probably come to you if the theory that you’re Geralt is to be believed…” He trailed off, lost in thought as he tried to remember the details of a game he hadn’t played in quite a long time. 

Elias took the other horse that was next to Roach, deciding that the person didn’t need it. It was a video game after all, he could do what he wanted, right? Only problem was, he had never ridden a horse in his entire life. He stared up at it, then frowned. “I… should probably walk.” He decided, nervous.

“Of fucking course they to,” Kaden grumbled. The reality of what that actually meant hit him a little slower. “Hold on, that means people know about the supernatural?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He’d be lying if he said he’d never wondered what life would be like if the supernatural were less of a secret, if he didn’t have to hide what he was or how he grew up. He wondered if life would be better, or at least easier. Sounded like he was fucked either way if this world he landed in was anything to go by. 

“Roach? The horse’s name is Roach? Putain de merde.” Who the fuck named their horse that? Nevermind, didn’t matter. “Uh, come here, Roach,” he called out to her. The mare looked at him questioningly (as much as a horse could), but trotted over all the same. He was thankful that his horseback riding skills have improved dramatically since he started dating Monty. It was easy to pull himself up into the saddle, even with the armor he was wearing. And Roach seemed agreeable enough. 

He raised a brow as he watched Elias approach the other horse. It was clear he was not as familiar with horses and that, despite being in this fucking video game, they didn’t have skills beyond their normal arsenal. Right. That was concerning. If the gryphon was anything like he was imagining, he was pretty sure he didn’t have the skills to take it down by his damn self. Especially since he was going to take a wild guess that he wasn’t getting his hands on a shotgun anytime soon. 

Kaden rolled his eyes at the man’s declaration that he’d walk. That was going to be too goddamn slow and left him even more vulnerable than he already was. “Come on,” he said as he reached down to grab Elias’s arm, pulling him up onto the back of the horse, seated just behind Kaden. “Probably a good idea to hold on.” 

He nudged the horse ahead and they began trotting down the path. For some goddamn reason, there were villagers just constantly in his way. Kaden did his best to steer past them, but Roach didn’t seem to be as dexterous or responsive as most horses he was used to. “Hey, watch it!” one man yelled out as he dodged out of the way. Another woman yelped. “Don’t walk in the fucking roads!” Kaden shouted back but it didn’t seem to deter them from their predetermined loops. “Who the fuck makes people walk in front of a goddamn horse?” he grumbled to himself.

It was then he realized he wasn’t even sure if they were headed the right way. He sort of just picked a direction. Kaden considered pausing to ask one of the people wandering around but the dirty looks they shot him didn’t make him want to strike up any conversation. He was going to assume he was headed down the right path since, well, it was a path in a video game after all. How hard could it be to navigate?

Roach started to get nervous and skittish as they neared a small patch of water along the road. “Is she scared of water or something?” he asked Elias as if there would be a simple explanation from the video game… rules or whatever it was. It wasn’t like it was deep, there was no reason the horse couldn’t cross it. They wouldn’t even have to jump to get to the other side. Hell, he was pretty sure it might go up as high as his ankles. Kaden urged the horse forward anyway and Roach listened, but was still uneasy. Whatever, it was probably nothing, some way to teach a player how to gallop or some shit. Either way, he was sticking to trotting while he had an extra passenger on the horse with him.

If he had looked to either side of the path as they reached the middle, he might have noticed the bubbling at the surface of the water. He might have reconsidered his decision to not go faster than a trot. Instead, inhuman screams rang out and the water splashed around them as three ghoulish creatures popped out of the water, bringing with them the stench of foul water and decay. They were blue, scaley, and Kaden sure didn’t miss the jagged teeth and sharp claws. “Putain de merde! What the fuck are those?!” he shouted while Roach did her best to keep calm while she was clearly freaking out. Shit, they didn’t have time to learn what those were. Fuck this.

”Hold on!” he shouted to Elias as he kicked Roach into a gallop. So much for not faster than a trot.

_____

“Not only do these people know about them but it’s a normal occurrence. Just another day as far as they’re concerned.” Elias shrugged a shoulder, looking at all the townspeople. “God, can you imagine living in a world like this?” He spoke, glad to have indoor plumbing and no cockatrices. “Yeah, the horse’s name is Roach. Appreciate her! Love her! Treat her with the respect she deserves!” Elias retorted with a frown. 

Before he could protest, Elias was on the back of a horse. God, this was wrong. He didn’t like it one bit. “Kaden, this is such a bad idea,” Elias spoke, his fear of the gentle beasts coming to the surface. Then, the horse started moving and Elias was quick to grab onto Kaden to keep himself from falling off. 

“Hey, the NPCs aren’t supposed to be smart,” Elias mentioned with a roll of his eyes as Kaden complained after nearly trampling a few people. He watched in partial fascination and partial horror as the landscape went by. “We’ve got to stop getting into things whenever we run into each other,” he remarked with a smirk. Then, the horse started to get freaked out. “Oh, those are drowners!” Elias spoke, pointing to the blue-colored things coming straight for them. 

Before he knew it, they were taking off down the path before the things could get their hands on them, and Elias felt his grip tighten for dear life. “Oh this is nuts!” Elias complained as the horse galloped along. “I mean, how are we going to get out of here? Are we stuck in the Witcher world forever? I can’t play the lute!” Elias felt himself spiraling at the concept of being stuck there. Not to mention Kaden didn’t really fit Geralt’s part either. 

“Man, I mean I could have been anyone in this game, and I’m Dandelion.” He continued. “He’s woman-obsessed and a genius with words. I’m neither of those things.” Elias frowned and shook his head at the idea of being someone like Dandelion.

It was in the midst of Elias’s complaining when a terrifying screech came from above them. Elias looked up, and there it was. Swooping right for them was the gryphon from the beginning of the game. “Oh, we’re done for!” Elias shouted, pointing up at the creature. “Run, Roach! Run!” He demanded, pulling out Geralt’s, no… Kaden’s sword and pointing it up at the creature. “Back off!” He demanded, knowing it would do little to deter the beast.

Roach kept running, but started to make scared whinnies and as the large bird creature swooped closer. “Oh, we’re going to die here!” Elias shouted, squeezing his eyes shut. This was it, goodbye world! The gryphon’s talons were pointed straight for them, and they made contact when– he opened his eyes and he was on the ground of the arcade next to Kaden, who was still unconscious. The game had been stopped. Elias blinked up at the worker who was staring down at him with wide eyes. 

Elias blinked a few times before forcing himself up onto his feet, disoriented. He was just holding Geralt’s sword and about to meet his end. Shit, was Kaden still in the game? Elias whirled back to look at Kaden, who was slowly coming to. “Oh thank god,” Elias muttered as he noticed the man blink a few times. “What happened?” He asked the worker, who just held their hands up. “I dunno man, you two just passed out.” The guy spoke, taking a step back. “It’s only my first day, I dunno.” Elias waved a hand, telling the kid that they’d be alright, and put his hand out to Kaden to help him up. “You alright?”

_____

A string of French curse words left Kaden’s mouth as they sprinted from the drowning monsters or whatever they were only to run into the aforementioned gryphon. At least that’s what he assumed was attached to big goddamn talons and horrendous shrieking.  “Hey!” he shouted when he noticed Elias had taken one of the swords for himself. “Do you know what you’re doing with that?!” He grumbled some more and then reached for the other sword that was on his back. Lucky there were two, he supposed. 

Kaden couldn’t say he had a plan of attack beyond just that: attack. He had faced bies and catoblepones, he could face a goddamn gryphon. He shouted back and thrust the sword up towards the beast’s talons as they swooped in towards them. 

Before the blade even made contact, the world went black around him and everything faded away. He groaned as he came back to life on the other side of the screen, pain shooting through his side as he lifted himself up off the floor. Putain de merde, whatever position he’d landed in wrecked hell on his spine. “Passed out you say?” Kaden felt his head to see if there were any bumps that would explain the hallucination from that game or whatever. It had to be that, right? If the kid was saying that they passed out. 

Only, Elias was there, too, and he looked just as startled. Fucking hell, had they really been sucked into that game? “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said with an added wince as he stood. “Back disagrees but I think it’ll get over it. Comparatively.” He looked over at the screen that they had been sucked into – black, empty, lifeless now that the console was turned off for the night. “That happened, right?” he said looking back at Elias. What the fuck kind of supernatural bullshit led to this, anyway? Maybe it was some fae bullshit or spellcasting gone awry. “Glad that’s over. I don’t think I’m going to become a gamer anytime soon.” Too much like real life.