#take me away from this god awful place you magic raccoon man

[deceptive-daydreams]

Eddie letting you release every pent up emotion when you’re with him and he notices you’re visibly just overwhelmed as fuck because life is kicking your ass, I’m talking letting you sob into his shirt, snot and everything, squeezing his hands, encouraging you to throw shit at the wall if you need to, anything to help you release some of the tension that’s built up within you over the past few weeks and then he holds you after while you’re still crying but exhausted so he just lets you sit for as long as you need in his arms while he rubs your back and hides you in his chest away from all the bad and scary things 🥲

[leetotters]

could you do a peter parker x reader where she can control her hair? and it can be any length she wants but prefers the length mid thigh and its and its unbreakable? so like fury asks if anyone in the team knows anyone they could recruit and he suggests her and all the avengers go meet her at a tailors shop she owns while she's cleaning and she shows her powers? please and if you do it, thank you

note: i hope you meant the powers to be reader's hair bc that's what i used it as lmao. also i used the gif because this is kinda how rocket got smacked with your hair. thank you for requesting<3

warnings: kissing, curse words

peter parker x reader

summary: something like request^

The swooshing of the broom and the melody of a random song played through the speakers of your tailor shop while you swept the floor. The small lengths of wool and silk thread tangling on the broom bristles as you scooped it up. The racks and unwanted pieces of cloth laid on the marble floor making you let out a sigh of exhaustion.

A knock on your glass showcase window made you jump. The movement making your hair disentangle from the neat twist plait. You lowly cursed as your hair touched the floor, the belly laugh behind the window noted you that your bestfriend was the person responsible for your little mishap.

"Couldn't you ring the bell like a normal person!" You annoyingly exclaimed, closing your eyes and controlling your hair to stop at mid-thigh length. Your preferred length. You picked your broom up and teasingly shook your head when Peter told you open the door. "I think I'm gonna leave you outside tonight, just for scarring the life out of me and my hair."

You resumed your previous activity, counting the numbers in your head until you heard the lock on your ceiling window open. The sound of Peter's displeased voice and childish complains filling your storage room.

"Can't keep me outside Y/L/N, I'll always find a way." He proudly dusted his shirt, taking the scoop from your hand while you grabbed the racks and placed them in your extra closet.

"Thanks to your super spidey powers." You teased, thanking him when he returned the dustpan. "Anyway, why are you here?" You inquired, curious why your best friend decided to stop by your little, tailor shop.

"Well I- wait," Peter scrunched his brows. "Can I not drop by to visit my bestfriend?" He sassed, hand on his hip giving you a quizzing look.

"Oh please Peter, you only stop by when you need something." You remarked, returning a pointed stare before you began to reorganize the formal wear you were currently adapting. "And that something is usually to stitch those huge ass holes in your spidey suit."

Peter didn't respond immediately, because you were right. He did stop by your shop for you to mend his suit. Because one, he loved your company. And two, you were the only person who knew his secret other than the avengers, Ned and MJ.

"Fine! fine!," He huffed. Not so discreetly looking over his shoulder as if he was giving someone a signal. "You're right-"

"I always am Parker." You boasted, using the ends of your hair to move the sewing machine and pins to there rightful place.

"Yeah- okay, but I really came to tell you life changing news!" Peter amazed, a gasp leaving his lips when he saw the movement of your hair. It never ceased to amaze him how your hair was basically magical. Being able to move stuff with your command, grow at whatever length you wanted, heal others and even be unbreakable. Epic, really.

"And what is this so great news-"

The words didn't leave your lips properly as your tailor shop entry door was suddenly yanked open. Your door handle and lock was surely broken, at the loud eerie sound of a metal crunching noise.

"Get out of my way Tony!" Stephen scowled.

"Shut it wizard dude, I'm the leader here not you." Tony rolled his eyes, removing the pair of expensive shades from his face.

"Since when? Fury sent all of us Tony." Rhodey said, dusting his shoulder.

"I wonder how much she makes in this shop, not much I bet." Steve scrunched his face, eyeing your little shop.

"Did we really have to bring Groot?" Clint groaned, flicking baby Groot off of his shoulder when he tried to grab one of his arrows.

"He's a baby, Clint. We can't leave him at the compound alone." Gamora remarked, tickling Groot's tree stomach as she picked him up.

"Okay if she does joins us, we will have to ask her to design new clothing! Look at this!." Wanda marveled, showing off the mid thigh silk dress.

"I should get this for the recruiting party Tony is planning for her." Natasha thought out loud.

"What the fuck!" You yelled, glaring at the talkative avengers standing before you. Looking mighty and high as always. "I just fixed that lock dude!" You whined, sighing gallingly when you saw the chunk of metal by Thor's feet. "You're repairing my lock, hammer man."

"Ah yes, I will have the Man of Iron restore your brittle lock Lady.."

"Y/N."

"Lady Y/N." Thor smiled.

Peter let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his ear and looking at you sheepishly. "Surprise?"

"Surprise my ass Parker! Why are the avengers in my tailor shop and why is this raccoon trying to cut my hair?!" You moved your hair with your mind, smacking the animal avenger with your y/h/c locks.

"Woah, did she just-" Bucky froze, mouth agape.

"Control her hair to hit Rocket, yeah." Peter Quill laughed at his co guardian misfortune.

"Okay her hair is very much un- unbreakable," Rocket coughed out, holding his stomach. "And strong."

"I am Groot." ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈᵃˢˢ

"You can not say that word Groot, but I do agree with you." Gamora smirked, finger bumping the cute tree.

You were mad, really fuming. You spent two hours cleaning and by the looks of it you'll have to do it a second time. So yeah, you wanted an explanation.

"Okay don't get upset." Peter spoke calmly. Holding his hand out and gesturing towards the superheroes infront of you, who had the same impressed expression on their fanciable faces.

"This is the life changing thing I was talking about," He paused with a smile. "You're joining the Avengers!"

"What?" You were officially bamboozled, with everything. One minute you were simply tidying your shop and next, half of the avengers are occupying your shop. Quarreling and interfering with your stuff.

And not to ignore the fact that your best friend just blurted out four questionable words to you.

"You're going to be an Avenger, Rapunzel." Tony repeated, strutting to you with short steps. "If you want to of course, sidey here told us your hair power thingy and though I was a little iffy about it at the beginning, it looks like your power is truly powerful." Tony patted your shoulder. Looking over at Rocket, who was being assisted by Drax.

"As much as I would like to say it's an honor to be in your presence," You said. Controlling your hair to grow back at mid-thigh. "Why?" You faced Peter, inquiring him with the plain word.

Peter shrugged, giving you a bashful look. "Fury asked if we knew anyone who could be recruited, and without thought I suggested you." He sighed, feeling completely awful for the situation he put you in.

"And I know, I should've asked you first but I know how much you adore helping others and the money here isn't enough for your college tuition Y/N." Peter ignored the awkward silence in the room that was loud seconds ago before continuing. "I thought this would be a way to assist you."

You physically softened at his words. He was too kind and caring for his own good. You could never be upset with this idiot boy.

"I'm sorry-"

Peter didn't finish. His apology was muffled by your lips pressed deeply to his frowny pink ones. He was slighty awestruck, the feeling of your lips were breathtaking. He swore he could kiss you forever. His hands found your waist pulling you in closer, even including a little tongue movement inside your mouth.

As if reality kicked in, a teasing 'ohhh' sound came from a few avengers. Causing you to shyly pull away from Peter, who loudly groaned at the lost contact of your plump lips.

"Looks like Spidey is getting a little too handsy." Sam quipped, chuckling when Peter told him to shut it and hid his face in the crook of your neck.

"So is this a yes?" Peter hopefully asked.

You feigned ponder. "Yes."

Peter pecked your lips, mumbling a short 'yay' attempting to deepen the kiss.

"That's enough smooching spiderling." Steve uttered, obviously not enjoying the PDA.

A beeping sound came from Tony's watch altering the team about an upcoming mission.

"Looks like we gotta go," Tony spoke with a serious voice before turning to you. "Glad to have you on the team Rapunzel."

"It's Y/N." You corrected.

"Okay, I'll send some people by tomorrow to pick up your stuff. See ya soon, Rapunzel." Tony winked, exiting your tailor shop.

"He's not gonna give that up." Peter laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I oddly don't mind." You responded, waving bye to the others. "Thank you Pete."

Peter grinned. "I didn't quite hear that, say it a little louder baby."

"Thank you mister Parker." You kissed his lips, playfully rolling your eyes. But you weren't that distracted to miss Thor stealthily trying to leave your shop.

"Hey hammer God! Don't forget to fix my lock."

"I will have Stark right on it Lady Rapunzel!"

[brooklynboysficrecs]

Ria’s Top 10 Shrinkyclinks Fics

I will admit this isn’t my preferred AU -- I won’t immediately jump on a fic just because it’s pre-serum Steve and WS Bucky. I gotta like the plot, or the premise, or be really, really intrigued by the tags, but to be fair, that’s how I am with everything that isn’t Modern Bucky and Cap Steve, so. That being said, I have read some truly fantastic shrinkyclinks stories, and I do very much love Steven “Fight Me” Rogers at his scrappiest. And these fics also tend to feature protective!Bucky which is another personal favorite of mine. Oh, but also: shrinkyclinks generally refers to pre-serum Steve with actual Winter Soldier Bucky, but a lot of people use the tag just to imply body types, and when they say WS Bucky they mean he’s all huge and muscled and sometimes has a metal arm, though that isn’t required. That’s the definition I’m going with as well, so hopefully nothing’s confusing!

1. If Wishing Made It So by leveragehunters. Before I get into anything about the actual fic, let me say this: leveragehunters is probably my favorite stucky writer. Like, hands-down, I read almost everything they write, and they’re big into fantasy stories, which is a great bonus for me personally. So, so, so many good shrinkyclinks fics by them (Even Underneath the Waves, a mermaid AU that features equal amounts of pre- and post-serum Steve, and A-mage-ing Grace with mage Steve are two of my other favorites, and they would’ve been on the list, but I try not to put more than one story per author, ya know? And IWMIS kinda wins out above the others for me, so). This story features jinn!Bucky who finds himself in the baffled hands of Steve Rogers, who is perfectly prickly and stubborn and good. Bucky’s got a terrible past with humans in general (and Hydra in particular, what a shocker) that he and Steve have to overcome as their relationship progresses, but that progression is frankly beautiful to watch unfold. I come back to this story time and time again because of how much I love these versions of Steve and Bucky getting to know one another, learning to trust each other, supporting each other through the worst the world has to throw at them. Plus, there’s a few more stories in this series if you get as hooked as I am, which is always great!!

2. Roots Have Grown by AustinB. I remember reading this and just... completely feeling what Bucky is going through. Not everything -- he’s an agoraphobic veteran, and I can’t relate to either of those, really, but he’s so... awkward about his crush on Steve. And that’s -- that’s relatable to me. But it’s precious, really, how he tries to help Steve even though he’s afraid to actually meet him initially; he becomes Steve’s sort of... anonymous benefactor? Guardian angel with money? Like, it’s definitely a sugar daddy type deal originally but I doubt Bucky would describe it like that. I don’t know, it’s cute, though, and I loved seeing Bucky opening up to Steve as they became closer. 

3. Through The Woods by VenusMonstrosa, alby_mangroves. Okay, hear me out: werewolves. I fucking love werewolves in fiction; I mean, not really the romance novels you’ll see in the grocery store, but. Werewolf mythology is one of my favorite things, so seeing it in fanfiction almost always manages to lure me in. And I was so not disappointed with this story! Steve’s living alone in a cabin in the woods, which of course sounds like the opening to a horror movie, but here it leads to love. Werewolf Bucky is both charming and terrifying, to a degree, he’s a wolf, but he and Steve are fantastic together. This is another story that goes in on the trust aspect of their relationship and I for one am a big fan of that. There’s some violence, minor character death and the like, but it’s definitely not undeserved so. If you can handle that (and the sex, because there is sex in this) then I highly recommend this one!

4. The Joy of Little Things by obsessivereader, Sealcat. And so we move from werewolves to dragons. Yup. Dragons. Another of my beloved mythical creatures that I obsessed over when I was kid. Bucky’s capable of shifting into a human in this, but primarily he’s a big ol’ dragon that surprisingly doesn’t want to eat the scrawny sacrifice from the local village. Steve ends up working for Bucky, instead, and from there hilarity ensues. Steve’s obviously wary of Bucky, but Bucky isn’t at all what he’d been expecting, and they grow closer the longer Steve’s staying in Bucky’s caves. There are a couple of stories with Dragon!Bucky, but this is my personal favorite; it’s cute and heart-warming and, well. I just really like it. 

5. I Just Want to Love You in My Own Language by agetwellcard, inediblesushi. So this one has Cap!Bucky (Bucky!Cap?) but again, sometimes it’s more about how Bucky looks rather than his role as the Winter Soldier. Anyway, I remember my biggest take away from this story was how adorable Bucky was in his quest to win the affections of sassy Nurse Steve, who patches him up after missions and is probably playing hard to get. Bucky uses terrible pick-up lines, absolutely awful, and he is completely unashamed of that fact. Which is, as I said, adorable. Steve, initially, does not agree with my assessment, but he gets there eventually. After some requisite drama, of course.

6. Tint & Shade by forestofbabel. Oh, god, this one hurt me, I remember that pretty clearly. Bucky is the Winter Soldier in this, and Steve is a 21st century art therapist who just so happens to resemble his late grandfather, Captain Joseph Rogers, who fought in -- you guessed it -- WWII. Like I said in the intro, if I really like the premise of something I’ll usually read it regardless of the configuration of pre-/post-serum Steve and pre-serum/WS Bucky, and this was definitely one of the fics I got into for that reason. Having actual WS Bucky interact with a modern pre-serum Steve is always interesting, given how much they don’t have in common, generally (there isn’t even really the veteran status that modern Bucky sometimes has in fics), and it’s a journey to see how and why they connect. Having Steve resemble his WWII era grandfather caught my attention, and the fic itself made me grateful that I decided to go for it in the first place. This is another one where is trust is key to their relationship, considering the mental/emotional state Bucky is in at the beginning. Very good story overall!

7. Fourth Floor by dirtybinary, mithborien, picoalloe. So dirtybinary has written some amazing stucky fics, which is why I was so excited when I saw this being posted initially (a few years ago, but still). There’s magic! Mystery! Suspense! Some NatSharon! Looking this over, I’m wondering if I should’ve saved it for the Urban Fantasy list I wanna do (and If Wishing Made It So, if I’m being honest) but I do like it for the shrinkyclinks list. The writing is great, the characterization of Steve and Bucky is great, and like, they live in what is essentially a magical apartment complex, so what’s better than that? 

8. my heart tells me you are lonely, too by FanGirling. Alright, so I read this one as it was being published, and the slow burn about killed me. You know, in a good way, though. Bucky lives in Steve and his mother’s apartment building, trying to figure out where to go with his life now that he’s broken free of Hydra and gotten his autonomy back. He’s obviously wary, skittish, but he takes a liking to Sarah Rogers when she reaches out to befriend him, surprised anyone wants to be near him let alone take the time to get to know him. Steve... is not so easily sold on Bucky. And I’m not gonna spoil anything here, but the shit these two go through is intense, and I cried a lot during this fic, sometimes out of frustration because they’re both ridiculous about their feelings (of course Bucky’s fears are valid, the man has been through literal hell, but also I was internally screaming a little as Bucky continually talked himself out of getting closer to Steve.) I wanted to wrap the both of them in about thirty blankets for pretty much the entire length of the fic. God. They’re just -- they’re so incredibly sweet in this one, once they work past their issues (Bucky and Steve are both more than a little messed up from their respective circumstances, but they make it work). Mind the tags on this one, also, especially because there is a chapter that deals with attempted sexual assault against Steve (obviously not with Bucky!), but Bucky handles the situation before anything truly nasty happens, that I can promise. 

9. Local Raccoon Befriends Angry Chihuahua by charlesdk. This is yet another author I really love; they have a fantastic farmer!Steve/Modern!WS!Bucky story that I love to bits, as well as other great fics. But anyway, this one. The title sold me the second I saw it, honestly, I can’t even pretend that wasn’t the deciding factor in me reading this. I don’t think I can really do any better than the summary in explaining why I recommend it; feisty tiny Steve and lovestruck grumpy Bucky are a winning combination in my book. This one does feature the boys dealing with homophobia and ableism, though I can’t recall how severe it is. So I’d just mind the tags, and if you’re alright with them, thoroughly enjoy this story. 

10. The Road to Hell is Paved with Tony’s Good Intentions by pinlilli. Bucky as a mail-order Russian bride. That’s the detail that pretty much demanded I click on this fic, and oh my god, it was even better than I ever could’ve expected. Tony, in a bid to help Steve get over his awful ex-boyfriend (fuck Brock Rumlow in every universe, honestly), literally orders him a husband -- in the form of beefy James Barnes, who is a fucking gem and I will not hear one bad word against him. He does chores, it’s lovely and adorable, and you will definitely fall just as hard as Steve does. There’s some canon-typical violence in this one that relates to James’ past, but nothing super graphic as far as I remember. Again, Rumlow is a dick and should be treated as such, but he’s hardly the most important part of this fic and I urge everyone to take a look at it if they’re as intrigued by Bucky being a mail-order husband as I was. 

[cosmic-divinity]

What about an au that Stans about how “weird” “Old man mucket” is and Ford askes about him, then Stan is confused but tells him where he lives and ford talks to his bud for the first time in a long time.

I am so sorry if this is confusing :(

No confusion here! I gotcha ^^ Hope you like it! FEELINGS TIME

Stanford remembered hearing it that morning and nearly dropping his coffee in the process. It had been the mention of a name he had forgotten about momentarily. After all, in all his travels across the multiverse, small things like that were bound to slip his mind. However, the fact that it brought about such a sudden reaction had shown that the memory was not entirely gone. It was still very much a part of him, and hearing that name, brought about a multitude of emotions. The strongest one wracking his brain was of….regret. 

“Hey, kids. Did you see the latest video on Bramble? Man, I swear, that Old Man McGucket keeps getting crazier and crazier. I dunno what he’s gonna do next,” Stanley laughed and then even harder when Mabel showed him another video. 

“I mean, yeah, it’s funny, but I feel kind of bad for the guy. He lives by himself near the dump, and no one’s tried to, you know, help him at all?” Dipper added, sipping on his strawberry milk. 

“Ah, lighten up, kid. As far as I know, that’s just..how he lives. He doesn’t seem like he’s unhappy or anything.” Stanley did stop laughing momentarily. Of course Dipper always had to be the realist just like someone else he knew. He finally noticed Ford standing in the doorway, looking like he was about to pass out. “Sixer? You all good over there?” 

“Oh, no, Grunkle Ford! You dropped your mug.” Mabel hurried over to scoop it up. Luckily, it wasn’t one of the ceramic ones and didn’t break upon impact. It took Stanford a couple of seconds before he registered she was grabbing paper towels to clean up the mess. 

“Terribly sorry, Mabel. I zoned out for a moment there,” he apologized, helping her sop it up before it spread to the rug. “I just...you guys were talking about Fiddleford Hadron McGucket...right?” 

Stanley raised an eyebrow. How the hell did those two know each other?

“Wait, how do you know his full name?” 

“Did you not read his journals, Grunkle Stan? McGucket was his assistant in his research. He was...a genius, really,” Dipper said with a concerned look towards Ford. “I would’ve done something, but..I’m not exactly sure how to help him. He lost a lot of his memory.” 

“You said he lives over by the dump, right?” As soon as Dipper said “yes” in response, Ford was out of there in about five seconds flat, dashing off towards the dump. 

“Ooh! Should we follow him, Dipper? Maybe Grunkle Ford can get the old Fiddleford back!” Mabel gasped. By the look in her eyes, Dipper could tell she had already made up her mind. 

As soon as she ran off, Dipper sighed and grabbed his backpack. He’d really hear it from both Mabel and Grunkle Stan if he didn’t go with. “Uh, be back in a bit, Grunkle Stan!” 

Stanford didn’t stop running until he got to McGucket’s shack. In hindsight, he could’ve had Stan drive him, but this was urgent. He gasped when he saw where he was living. Oh, Fiddleford… He felt that guilt hanging heavy on his chest again. How long had he gone on not even knowing he was here? Of course, he had only recently returned to this dimension, but still! How could he forget about the person most dear to him. The person who….he betrayed..for an interdimensional demon with empty promises. For a moment, he stopped himself as he started walking up to the shack. If his memories returned...would he hate him still? He wouldn’t blame Fiddleford if he never wanted to see him again.

Mustering some courage, Stanford took a deep breath and continued onwards to what sort of resembled a door. A six fingered fist lingered at it a moment before tentatively knocking. He heard rustling from within before a raccoon bolted out of there, making him jump and nearly fall over. Was a raccoon his only company now?? His heart nearly stopped when Fiddleford stood in the doorway, his beard all the way down to his feet and what looked like...a bandage on his beard? Stanford wasn’t about to question it. Fiddleford stared blankly at him before saying, “Well, howdy, there! Can I help you with somethin’?” 

The words caught in Stanford’s throat for a moment. There was so, so much he wanted to say, mostly “I’m sorry, so sorry,” but he held it back. He didn’t know how much of his memory was missing, but given his living conditions, and the fact that he wasn’t completely pissed at him right now, he’d say a lot. He held up a six fingered hand in a wave, putting on his best smile even though his body simply didn’t want to, no matter how much it hurt. 

“Hey, Fiddleford. I’m an...old friend, Stanford Pines. Do you..remember me at all?” 

Fiddleford seemed utterly confused. He “hmm’d” to himself, scratching his beard and looking Stanford over. It got to the point where it seemed to be causing him physical pain, finally stopping with a groan. “Aw, sorry, there. Can’t seem to recall your name, but you’re that new scientist guy that arrived here in Gravity Falls, right? Sorry if I’m wrong. My memory ain’t what it used to be, you know?” 

Stanford let out a sigh and an understanding nod. He figured this was probably going to be the case. Perhaps, he needed some stimuli to get things going. 

“It’s alright, Fiddleford. I know you’ve been through a lot...trust me, I do, so I hope you don’t mind this.” 

Taking a breath, Stanford reached out to place his hands on Fiddleford’s shoulders, slowly drawing him into a hug. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Fiddleford. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for everything that happened. I should’ve put my trust in you, not Bill. Driving you away is one of my deepest regrets. Even in other dimensions, it haunted me in my dreams. I wish...I wish I could take that hurt away, but we both know even the memory gun isn’t perfect. Memories don’t simply disappear, right, Fidds?” In that moment, he didn’t think about if Fiddleford didn’t know what he was talking about. All that mattered now was that he was hugging him again. He didn’t need forgiveness. It was the closure that he’d get at least. 

For a minute, Fiddleford stayed still, but he slowly wrapped his arms around Stanford, sighing softly. Just feeling safe in his arms and his familiar scent, he felt a rush of memories coming back to him, especially with the use of his old nickname Stanford often called him back then. He glanced over when he felt Stanford trembling, tightening his grip on his shirt. His head..well, really hurt, especially at the fact that Stanford was here and in his arms. 

“It was a tough time for both of us. And you know, I forgive you, Stanford. It’s been far too long for me to hold onto a grudge now.” 

Stanford gasped when he heard him call him by his name. Were his memories..returning? Was his hypothesis correct? Tears started to run down his cheeks as he cupped Fiddleford’s face with trembling hands. “Fidds….you really remember me? I-I mean, you shouldn’t forgive me. I betrayed you. You were the person I was closest to, and I turned my back on you, drove you mad enough to use the memory gun on yourself. I..I don’t think I deserve it..” 

“Oh, Stanford,” Fiddleford chuckled, looking up at him with the softest smile. “What matters is learning from your mistakes. Obviously, you found out the truth about Bill and his intentions, and you worked hard to correct your mistakes. Like I said, it’s been too long for me to hold onto a grudge, right, old buddy?” 

He winced a bit when another headache and rush of memories came on. “Ah, look at this. You’re sparking so many lost memories o’ mine. It’s like magic!” 

Stanford let out a choked laugh, having to remove his glasses a moment to wipe away his tears. 

“Yeah, it kind of is. I would say magic doesn’t actually exist, but..I’ve seen far too much to say that anymore. Plus, Mabel would probably kick me in the shin if she heard me say that.” After taking a moment to collect himself, Stanford offered his hand to Fiddleford. “How about we find a place to chat and catch up? My brother actually turned the old cabin into a tourist trap of sorts, but it’s a good place to hang out in. And really? A shack, Fidds?” 

“Hey, don’t blame me! I lost my mind, literally!” Fiddleford teased and accepted Stanford’s hand. The warm touch of it was something he really had missed. 

“OH MY GOD, GRUNKLE FORD! That was sooo cute! I actually started crying myself,” Mabel squealed from a nearby bush as she tumbled out of it followed by Dipper. “Oh my gosh! You guys are literally the cutest!” 

“Mabel...they just met again after...a really long period of time,” he said, having forgotten the exact number. “How about we give them some space?” 

“Oh, yes, yes. Space is important, but afterwards you guys have to tell me everything!” 

Stanford chuckled as he watched her drag Dipper off, guiding Fiddleford along. Things were still a little...awkward, but he was sure they’d regain their footholds in their relationship again. Things were a little different now, but after all these years, Fiddleford was still Fiddleford, and that was enough for him.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 16: No Not Like That

Aw, been a while since I wrote one of these! Anyway: we run into some dickheads and try to solve things the not-murder way for once. 

On the road outside Bad Herzfeld, the trolls slowly begin to peel off and go their separate ways. Dr. Kjeller and his new bodyguard Kjell are the last to leave the main road, stopping to say goodbye to the small contingent of humanoids.

“Welp, dis trolls’ moot has certainly been an experience,” Dr. Kjeller sagely intones. “I would not say a success. The two of us are going to tour around and tell all the trolls we can find to stay away. I believe a trolls’ moot is not uncalled for, but we must look for a different place. Ideally one not full of weird fungus people. And, please, if there is anything I can do to help you….well, I guess you’d have to find me first.” He tips his travelin’ hat and departs. Gral tips his mask in return. He’s getting the hang of these Valdian customs!

It seems like the Orcish outriders have already left to report back to Duke Shieldeater, so it’s just us, the Fairgolds, and the beleaguered innkeeper and his daughter. What do we do with the civilians? I mean, we’re headed to Mornheim, and even if we’re gonna fix the water it seems kinda rude to drop someone off in Zombie Town. Flynn offers to introduce Aaron to his innkeeper uncle back in Holzog, to see if he can get a job there.

Flynn and Fiona are gonna stick with us to Mornheim. “Look, you had all the fun up there in Bad Herzfeld; I’m not gonna let the four of you get all the glory. You’re gonna do a big ritual and save the whole town? I gotta see this.”

We spend a couple uneventful days hiking back to Three Oaks Junction, where we’ll split up with Aaron and Rebecca. The DM tries to waylay us with a destroyed bridge over a fast-moving river, but we have a Ring of Jumping and a magical alligator. We’re fine. We roll some bad perception checks on watch and our rations get stolen by Curse Raccoons.

ANYWAY. As we get back onto the major roads, Gral is the first to notice something odd: there’s no carts coming from the direction of Three Oaks. Sure, it’s late evening, but last time we were here there was still a heavy buzz of activity through the busy trade stop. We approach extra-cautiously, making sure the civilians are in the protected center of the group.

The town comes into view, and it’s immediately obvious something has changed. A hasty palisade wall has been constructed around the town, and a banner has been hung over the gate, white with a red insignia of a bloody chain.

Shoshana groans. “AAUUUUGH, are you fuckin’ kidding me?!”

“Um, did the town always look like that?” Rebecca asks hesitantly.

Valeria shakes her head. “Not last week, it didn’t!”

Gral pulls the duo aside and gives them the Cliffs Notes: “We’re about to run into the Penitents. Talk about Rack as much as you can and hide behind Valeria. I hate dealing with these folks, but it looks like they put this place on lockdown, and we gotta make sure y’all are safe.”

Outside the gate, there’s a uniformed Penitent Knight keeping watch over a group of citizens who are digging graves. The gate itself seems to be manned by standard town militiamen, being supervised by another Penitent. Valeria casts a quick eye over the scene with Detect Magic, but finds nothing amiss. As she approaches (we’re wisely letting the paladin lead), a guardsman shouts “Halt!”

She stops at a polite distance. “Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service,” she announces formally. “What’s going on here?”

“By order of the town council, all who seek admittance to the town must submit to examination for heretical artifacts or influences,” the guardsman recites, scriptedly. The Penitent behind him nods in approval.

She meets his eye with an intimidating draconic stare. “We have artifacts we need to bring to the Cursebreaker Knights. Perhaps we can check them at the door and pick them up later?”

“Uhhh,” the guy says, his script clearly not having prepared him for that. “…maybe you should talk to the Inquisitor. He’s gonna want to speak to you about these ‘artifacts.’”

He has us wait a minute, and we take a quick mental inventory. We’ve got an evil skeleton tapestry, spooky lutestrings, the Eyegis, and one (1) entire Shoshana.

A group of six Penitents arrive and escort us stiffly into the town. The place is crowded as all get out; it looks like a lot of travelers have been stuck here way longer than they anticipated. There’s only two properly empty spaces: one’s some sort of enormous construction site, and the other is the area where the circus tent was; it seems nobody’s been brave enough to move into the spot or even clean up the ashy, crumbling remains.

There’s a rather unusual cart sitting among the crowded caravan parking, immediately familiar from the two reptilian beasts of burden hitched next to it. There’s a bit of a staredown happening; two Penitents are remaining remarkably steadfast in the face of two enormous, glowering tattooed figures. We can’t pop over to say hi; our escort is hustling us along and we’re not sure that knowing us would do Lucinius any favors.

Valeria’s about vibrating out of her skin, indignant at all these unfairly-detained innocents, and looks about a second away from drawing her sword and opening up a can o’ Righteousness. But no time for that; we’re being ushered inside the sheriff’s office.

The small-town hoosegow is cramped; there’s been makeshift cages built all along one wall, seemingly as some kind of holding cells, all of them full. Shoshana appraises the prisoners out of the corner of her eye. They all seem to have slight Curse mutations, but so vaguely that it could just be garden-variety weirdness. Sure, that guy could be a werewolf, but he might just be a real hairy dude. That lady looks sallow and corpselike, but not more so than any garden-variety resident of Mornheim.

Shoshana, her clawed hands shoved deep in her pockets, is strung tense as a lutestring. Valeria’s still managing to feign chilly politeness, but both of them are half a breath away from fight or flight.

Gral’s not looking at the prisoners. He’s too busy looking at the guard. There’s two burly Penitents at the door, which is unsurprising, but Gral could swear he’s seen the one on the left before.

He’s pretty sure we killed that guy back at the roadhouse.

The guard doesn’t seem to recognize us at all, but he’s pretty badly scarred, exactly in the way someone might be if they took a hit from a drow soldier’s greatsword.

We’re pulled out of our wary observations by a familiar, unwelcome voice. “Ah. Kyr Argent, wasn’t it?”

“It is,” Valeria allows frostily, as the Inquisitor glides into the room.

“It is good to see you again – in a manner of speaking,” he says, chuckling at his own joke as he gestures to his blindfolded eyes. “Yes, from the descriptions of the heroes who defeated the heretical circus, I suspected I might have the pleasure of working with you once again. What brings you to Three Oaks Junction?”

“Oh, we’re just passing through. Y’know, like travelers do,” she answers, her polite smile showing just a little too much fang.

“Yes, of course. As you can see, this town has become very useful in our war against the Curse.”

“Is it, now.”

“After the incident with the circus, the town council was afraid. Many of them had attended the performance, after all. They were worried that there might be some…aftereffects. Fortunately, my people were nearby, and they summoned me immediately to examine the town for signs of the Curse’s corruption. As we were here, it became clear what an asset this town is – just as the heretics used it to corrupt many at once, we can use it to root out those heretics who hide among us.

“On our first day here, we found one who bore the mark of the curse. I examined him myself. Foul lycanthropy. He was, of course, executed. Now, none pass through this place without our inspection, and we have found many others. You may have seen some of them outside, awaiting a more thorough examination. My work has kept me too busy to give each case the attention it truly deserves.

“The town council has been very accommodating. I have written to my fellows, and we are working on converting and expanding their humble chapel into a true bastion of Rack’s justice, where the divine light of the gods may lay bare the evil that hides among us, that walks the roads of this land spreading its poison.”

Gral mutters, aside, “Don’t think anyone’s walkin’ these roads now…”

The Inquisitor claps his hands briskly. “Now. I understand you are in possession of some artifacts, objects that you are transporting on behalf of the Cursebreaker Knights. I fear for our brothers amongst the Cursebreakers; their mission is noble but they meddle with powers they do not understand. There are things in this wood it is better not to trifle with. Bring the items to me, and I will inspect them. Those I deem acceptable may remain in your protection, but anything too dangerous must be destroyed. Should the Cursebreakers fall to corruption, we would lose some of our greatest assets in this war. Help me protect the Cursebreakers, Kyr Argent. Show me what you are transporting for them.”

Valeria nearly decks him then and there, but a quiet brush of shoulders reminds her of the trembling sorceress behind her. Not here, not now, not when we’re surrounded. If they get an excuse to get aggressive, Shoshana’s sunk.

We busy ourselves with pulling out Weird Yet Harmless artifacts. What kind of random space trinkets did we find, again? Clem shows them the Eldritch Cookbook, and we take a gamble by letting them look at the Pale King’s tapestry, which is a bit large and hard to hide.

“Very well. I will examine these,” the Inquisitor says smoothly, his tone giving no insight into whether he knows we have far more blasphemous things to hide. “Gunter! Find them lodging within the town. Once I have examined these items for corruption, I must confirm that none of you have been corrupted by their presence.”

Valeria smiles tightly. “I’m certain they are corrupted, but not corrupting.”

“With all due respect, Kyr, I have made a study of corruption. Now, because of your…esteemed position,” he says, gesturing toward her rose-emblazoned armor, “you are no doubt on a mission of some considerable importance. I will endeavor to expedite your case as much as I can.”

“Oh, there’s no need to give us special treatment. All the travelers here need to get through,” she responds pointedly.

The Inquisitor’s serene, condescending expression does not change. “You may go,” he dismisses. “I am very busy. As I’m sure you know, the work of good in times of evil is ceaseless.”

Valeria bows to the exact millimeter that politeness requires, and no further. He’s blind, and doesn’t notice.

As we’re ushered back out, Shoshana tries to catch the eye of one of the caged prisoners. They mostly just look scared, not evil, and there’s no sign they recognize she’s also corrupted.

Clem, meanwhile, takes the opportunity to scrutinize the weirdly familiar guy at the door. He looks perfectly healthy, except for all the scars. She elbows Valeria, who confirms with her Divine Sense that this is just a normal dude, not an undead. He’s either one hundred percent living, or whatever nonsense that brought him back from murder is specifically cloaked in a way that would fool a paladin’s senses.

Our escort shows us to a place to set up camp. There are several inns in town, but all of them are fairly occupied at moment. We’re pretty sure that a Knight of the Rose, hero who slew the dread circus, could pre-empt a less fancy guest, but we’re all chill with camping as long as we get to hit up a food truck or something.

We meet back up with our friends. The Fairgolds, who are pretty familiar with Three Oaks, are pretty shaken by the drastic changes. Aaron and Rebecca, meanwhile, are shocked. “Is this what the rest of the woods is like?!” Aaron asks. “I knew things were bad out here, but I assumed once we got out of Bad Herzfeld…”

“Different places have different issues,” Gral explains kindly. “Some are the kind you’re already familiar with. And apparently some places are afflicted with Penitent Knights.”

“Even before that, there was an undead curse which afflicted this place-“

“-Which we DEALT WITH just fine-“ Valeria interjects grumpily.

“-and Holzog’s safe now, but it had its own weird issues we had to deal with too. The Curse is everywhere; you can’t really get around it without clear-cutting the forest,” Shoshana admits.

We get the lay of the land. Commerce has slowed, but not stopped. The Penitents are searching everyone going through here. If they find nothing, they let you go. Most of the crowd is just people waiting for their turn to get checked. We see a few times, though - if something about you pings them as weird, they take you away.

Basically, we are in line at the TSA.

Guess we’ll take a walk.

We skirt warily around a Penitent street preacher who’s shouting something about justice, and casting out evil, and how Rack appreciates your sacrifice in these trying times.

“Sacrifice is a WILLING thing,” grumbles Valeria.

We walk around and do some casual recon. Much of the town is still a perpetual campsite/bazaar, but near the more permanent municipal buildings, several work crews are busy with construction, which the locals tell us is supposed to be some kind of temple. Quite a few rough tents with Penitent insignias are pitched by that area. The town militia is out in force, and it’s much bigger than when we passed through last week. Maybe half of the people running around on patrol are actually trained fighters; most of the new recruits barely even look like weekend warriors. Every patrol, without exception, is being supervised by at least one Penitent.

People are scared, mostly. Nobody around seems happy with the Penitents, but a lot of the people around have reluctantly agreed that Something Had To Be Done about threats like the circus, and there weren’t any other available options. No one’s enthusiastic they’re there, but neither are they vocally critical. Then again, we worry, maybe anyone who’s been speaking out or causing trouble has, uh, disappeared.

We make our way back to our own wagon. If we’re gonna go Get In Trouble, like adventurers do, it’s probably time to part ways with our civilian friends. We pool 40 gold for Aaron and Rebecca (Clem contributing nothing because giving money is WAY too personal; Shoshana giving extra because she’s projecting really hard onto them) and Aaron’s eyes go wide. Oh, right, most people don’t make adventurer amounts of cash? It’ll be enough to get them safely set up in Holzog, with money to spare. They leave to set up their own travel plans, stuttering awkward thanks.

Flynn, meanwhile, grins. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of us that easily. You guys are terrible liars, I know you’re plotting something.”

We admit we don’t actually have a plan, but Valeria is adamant that This Nonsense Cannot Stand.

Let’s go recruit some allies, maybe? Gral wanders within Message range of Lucinius’ wagon, which is very clearly cordoned off and under guard. Bjorn and Ingborg are still there, but there’s no sign of the dragonborn.

“Heyy it’s us, what’s going on? Over.”

“Hello. We cannot leave. The Professor was taken. They wished to search the cart. He explained what he has and what he has found, that he is carrying important research. He would not allow them to confiscate his research, and he went to speak to the one in charge. That was three days ago; we have not seen him since. It is our duty to protect the man, but we have not seen a way to fulfil that duty without getting ourselves killed.”

We promise to keep them posted, and ask them to sit tight so when we make our move, it’ll be coordinated.

Next, Gral and Shoshana go down to the local pub to see if we can find anyone that’s particularly malcontented with the Penitents. We assume religious zealots are not much for hanging around bars. They don’t seem to be much into worldly pleasures, coughzombiecough.

Nobody’s talking too much shit until they get a couple of drinks in them but we do find some people griping, mostly merchants passing through. Pierre the Demish furrier, who we met back at the Holzog roadhouse, has turned up again; apparently the Penitents seized a good deal of his stock. And he’s been reduced to drinking BEER. He has OPINIONS about that. (It does not stop him drinking lots of it; he has to drown his sorrows at being denied worthy alcohol.)

Gral tries to butter him up a bit by letting him ramble about Demish wine. “When you drink a bottle of Demish wine, you taste centuries of tradition in that vineyard! You taste the earth itself, the hands of the farmers. It is sweet and it stings and it is good. What is this? Barley? Hops? HOPS? Hop is a verb, hop is not an object. Hop is for bunnies. The bunnies may eat the hops, and then I will cook the bunnies,” he mumbles into his unsatisfactory beer.

Gral fumbles for sommelier expertise. “I come from a smaller river village; wine tastes different farm to farm. It’s not just about the plants, but the social experience.”

“It is the same for us, yes? A region’s wine is its SPIRIT. You go to the border of the goblin swamps, and the wine there tastes like fire and blood, like the steel of the chevaliers that defend it.”  Go to Petit le Fere, it tastes like long summer nights. Go to Marsène, the wine tastes like – have you ever been in love, Monsieur Orc?”

“Uh, n-no?”

It tastes like the first time you and your lover locked eyes and laughed together. That was my favorite wine. This? This tastes like mud with pretensions of alcohol.”

“It’s not the steel of the chevaliers, but it’s the taste of hardworking people. And if the penitents have their way, there won’t be a town here anymore.”

Gral butters the guy up enough to find out a few basic details: there’s about two dozen proper knights, but they’ve got local militia and volunteers to swell their numbers. A lot of people are very keen to get on good terms with the new bosses, whether it’s because they’re afraid of the Penitents or afraid of the things out in the woods that the Penitents have promised to fight.

“I was here to get a blood-red deer pelt with wolf’s teeth,” the trader complains. “I know a chevalier who would pay dearly to have it worked into his armor. And now it has been taken away!  For my ‘protection,’ apparently. I had to surrender the rest of my stock to avoid being thrown in those cages.”

Everybody in the tavern seems to be on good behavior – sure, there’s folks displeased with the Penitents, but nobody’s gonna do anything about it; if you look like you might be up to something, you’re gonna get dragged off. And Pierre’s been keeping a low profile ever since he saw that blue dragonborn get dragged down into the basement of the sheriff’s office.

Shoshana, meanwhile, slides over to a tough-looking lady at the end of the bar in militia-style leather armor. “Hey, you look like you’d know the system here. We just got in to town; how long before they search our cart and let us go?”

“A couple days; we got a huge backlog,” the woman, who’s introduced herself as Vanessa, tells her. “Depends on how much they suspect you. Some people, they like to leave ‘em here for a while, to watch ‘em for anything suspicious.”

“You say that like you’re not involved? You’re dressed like you’re with the militia.”

“Technically I am. Second-in-command, or I was, before all this. Not sure who is now. Hell, I was the one making noise at Sheriff Wilbur about getting more muscle after that circus thing. If you folks hadn’t shown up, I dunno what would have happened.”

“So you all get bossed around by the Penitents now?”

“Look, half the kids in the militia right now barely know which end of a spear is up. The Penitents agreed to supplement what we had.”

“…yyyyyeah, it kinda feels like they’re calling the shots, though?”

She sighs. “Yeah. Look, I had the idea that we needed to beef up, bring in experienced vets. I was hoping to get mercs or something, and then they showed up and filled the role. They made some kinda deal with the town council, y’know, they’d provide extra security in exchange for being given jurisdiction over anybody found to be corrupt. Sounded fine to us at the time. See, we didn’t make the connection that if they were with the militia, they’d be the ones making the call who all’s corrupt or not.”

“How many people have been deemed, uh, ���corrupt’?” Shoshana asks.

“More than I’d like, but not enough to get everyone all up in arms. Everybody’s pretty sure that most people will be fine. Hell, most people probably will be. When someone goes to trial, they take ‘em to the sheriff’s office. That Inquisitor guy looks at ya, says a few magic words, and most of ‘em he lets go. A few get taken to the cages for a further exam. I dunno what that means – don’t know anybody who’s been let go after that. A couple of times he just made a motion and bam, those knights beat the poor bastard to death on the spot and burned all their belongings.”

Vanessa doesn’t look too thrilled about that, so Shoshana decides it’s time to confide a little. “Even with the entire town vouching for me that I helped with the Circus, I’m worried I’m a target.”

“Well, I don’t mean to say anything, but I saw y’all leaving the sheriff’s office. You’re gonna get called in; you’re exactly the type. Even before all those stories about burning down circus tent with your magic powers.” She stares into her beer. “They’ve gotta be crazy. There’s plenty of crazy in the forest for them to deal with, why the hell are they in my town?!”

The problem is, the Town Council, which is what passes for a governing body in Three Oaks, have signed off on the whole deal. “The council’s just three people – the sheriff, Burgermeister Menner, and Remick – he’s the guy who keeps the shrine up and running. They all agreed to have the Penitents come in, but we haven’t seen much of any of them except the Sheriff since.”

Shoshana files that info away for later. “You said the sheriff’s still out and about?”

“He’s – look. Wilbur’s never been the most enthusiastic about bein’ sheriff. We served together, way back, in the house guard of the von Kempt family. Even back then he got the job because he’d been a sergeant. The guy was always happiest taking orders, rather than giving them. And hell, most of the sheriff job was just keeping things running today same as yesterday. But he got pretty spooked by the circus thing. That kinda shit’s scarier than your ordinary pack of wolves or bandits. I tried to get him to do something, but he seems comfortable with penitents calling the shots. He trusts they’re the experts and know what’s best here.”

The Burgermeister’s been pretty busy with this whole thing, apparently, and Remick hasn’t really left his little shrine. The Penitents don’t use that one – they’re more into big prayer ceremonies and dramatically flogging themselves in the street, and they’re starting construction on their own grand temple. Something about “showing faith by constructing a worthy house of worship,” and all that.

Vanessa’s grumbling about the heavy restrictions on the gates into town and the perimeter patrols, so Shoshana strategizes. “Have you had problems with people hopping the fence?”

“I mean, normally, no? Town regulations say go through the gates, but we’ve always had teenagers hopping the wall, or people with business outside who don’t feel like walking all the way to gate – never a real problem, until this whole nonsense. I’m not on patrol anymore, but as far as I can tell people are too scared to try in case they get caught. Probably a good way to get declared a potential heretic.”

Apparently the wall isn’t super well maintained; there’s plenty of places a few charming scamps could get in or out if they’re willing to scramble a little. It’s a trade stop, not a fortress.

We don’t get too much more info around town, and decide to investigate the town council in the morning. We take watch overnight, but nothing happens.

In the morning, we split up to cover more ground; Clem and Gral head to the Burgermeister’s, while Valeria and Shoshana try to hit up the local chief cleric.

Clem and Gral arrive at the biggest house in town. There’s a Penitent standing guard outside the door. They skulk around nonchalantly to the back to properly recon. There’s no Penitents watching the back, so Gral slinks up to a window to peer inside. It’s pretty normal; there’s a woman baking bread. Clem points out that we’ll definitely look like the bad guys if we break into an occupied home, so…the polite approach it is.

“The Burgermeister is not feeling well and cannot see visitors,” the knight at the gate intones.

“We’re here on urgent business,” Gral improvises. “We are the adventurers who defeated the circus; we wish to talk to him about the restoration efforts.” He rolls a properly bardic persuasion check, but it’s still like talking to a brick wall.

However, the door opens behind the stoic guard. “Who is it?” An elegant middle-aged woman peers out at us. “Wait, don’t I recognize you?”

“Yes, we assisted in deposing the circus!” Gral replies warmly. “Gral Omokk’du; I serve Duke Shieldeater.”

“Clementine Haxan,” Clem offers laconically.

“Ah, yes. Please do come in. You left town so quickly, my husband and I weren’t able to properly thank you!”

“We had urgent business elsewhere,” Gral admits, the picture of good manners. “I suppose that’s how life is.”

They make pleasantries with the woman, Meredith, who falls easily into the role of gracious host.

“We had concerns to bring up with the Burgermeister, but what’s this I hear about him being unwell?”

“Yes, he’s been bedridden the last week. A bit of the flu; he’s getting to that age. Mostly it’s just the fatigue, really.”

Clem tuts. “I’m a bit of a medic myself. The flu can be very serious when someone is in advanced years. I could potentially give a clearer diagnosis, maybe alleviate some of his pain?”

Meredith visibly brightens. “I was thinking about sending for a doctor anyway; please come on up, I’ll see if he’s ready to take visitors.”

The Burgermeister has CORONAVIRUS and we’re in QUARANTINE.

She leads them upstairs. “Dear? Aldrich? Remember those people who helped with the circus? One’s a doctor!” She listens for a moment. “You’re tired? You’ve been tired for a week. No, that’s not normal. It’s normal to get a doctor!” She turns back to the two visitors. “He’s being silly, come on up.”

“I don’t need a doctor, just rest!” we hear a harrumphing voice complain.

He is lying in bed in his pajamas. Ah, this is the burger kingdom! No, it’s my burger meistdom

“Hello sir, I’m Clementine Haxan. This is my nurse, Gral Omokk’du.”

“An orcish nurse?” the Burgermeister

“I’m not as experienced as Miss Haxan, but I served as a medic during the Ascension War,” Gral seamlessly bullshits.

“Look I’ve just picked up a bit of a bug and I need rest;” he grumps. “It’ll go away after a bit and I’ll resume my duties.”

“That may very well be true, but gods forbid it’s serious,” Clem says in her best Bedside Manner Voice. “It’ll be good to have it looked it.”

“Ugh, poke and prod me, do what you have to,” he reluctantly concedes.

Clem makes a medicine check with Dr. Wendell’s assistance. The man’s not entirely healthy - his cholesterol is a bit high maybe - but he’s hardly an invalid. He genuinely seems to have some kind of cold or flu, but it’s very mild at this point. There’s no way he should still be bedbound. Maybe it’s just Clem’s standards as an army doctor, but if a soldier came up to her with these symptoms asking to be let off duty the prescription would be “stop wasting my time and go dig latrines.”

Gral insights the guy. He’s not lying; he honestly believes he needs rest. But the way he keeps repeating the word “rest” feels a bit weird. The vibe isn’t “this person feels sick and fatigued,” it’s “this person has an insistent conviction that He Needs Rest.”

“Rest” isn’t a Prisoner buzzword, but Gral’s seen bards cast Suggestion before, and that seems to line up a little too well. Unfortunately, he can’t just Dispel Magic the darn thing; it’s too artful and subtle for that.

Gral decides to fish for a bit more info. “Before we leave you to your rest, how long have you had this flu?”

“About a week? The Inquisitor comes by every morning to update me on the town’s situation. Though I must rest and cannot attend to my duties, a town’s Burgermeister still must keep up with the times!”

“When did you first come into contact with him alone?”

“Oh, I insisted on a meeting when he first came into town a week ago.”

Interesting. The Burgermeister falls ill just in time so that the only information he gets about the town comes from the Inquisitor himself.

Wife doesn’t go out much, armed guard outside

Did he update you on the cage and the executions?

Have been capturing some neer do wells that seek to do harm to town, held for further questioning, some eliminated to protect town like common bandits or beasts.

Saw people in cages! How would you describe them, Clem.

Clem: didn’t strike me as especially dangerous folk

“Well, neither did that ringleader! He only seemed as eccentric as any other traveling performer!”

“Sure,” Gral argues, “but that’s when he had time to prepare his lies and his magic. These scared people in cages wouldn’t be able to hide if they tried. Honestly, the worst I saw was an excessive amount of body hair.”

“Fine, fine, I will inspect these prisoners personally as soon as I feel better, which should be any day now!”

“With all due respect, you fell ill right after this Inquisitor started talking to you. I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Miss Haxan says you’re fine-“

“No I’m not! I need rest!” the Burgermeister interjects heatedly.

“We saved the town, and we’ve had trouble with Penitents before. I believe he has a spell on you. Please, let me try to remove it.”

“I’ve no time for your insane ravings, orc. The Inquisitor is a man of faith! Now leave me to my rest. Dr. Haxan, I appreciate your diagnosis, but I tire easily these days. Have my wife show you out.”

Gral knows the effect of Suggestion is only about 8 hours, but it’s subtle mental manipulation; it lasts. If the Inquisitor is coming by every morning, that’s the perfect opportunity to refresh the charm.

The two of them head out, Clem politely prescribing a short calisthenic routine for the man and, oh, he’s on the mend but just in caaaase he’s contagious the Inquisitor probably shouldn’t visit for a few days?

His wife agrees that sounds reasonable, but it probably won’t stop the guy. They say their gracious goodbyes.

Meanwhile, Shoshana and Valeria are headin’ to church. It’s a tiny thing; there are naves for the three gods we expect, but it doesn’t have the traditional empty throne of Oberok and we’d be surprised if it had a proper hidden shrine for the trickster god Guile. There’s a few people around, and luckily no Penitents posted outside.

Valeria, of course, stops at the Rack shrine for a short prayer, still getting used to how odd it is to see him depicted as human instead of dragonborn. We notice a few little notes – the Lethe shrine’s sponsored by the local blacksmith. You too can have a sword or hammer just like these, in our showroom down the lane!

A few folks are doing their daily prayers and making offerings. They’re all locals and travelers; there’s not a single Penitent in sight, which is pretty odd. There’s no services right now, so we head over to the old man who’s cleaning up candle drippings under one of the offerings. Valeria introduces herself, at your service as per usual.

“Ah, Kyr Argent! I remember you, from that blond man’s story about the circus! Keeper Remick, at your service. How may I aid you?”

Valeria asks him how, as a keeper of the faith, he feels about the Penitents.

“Well, in these times, faith is very important. And they certainly have plenty of that. And that’s a good thing, isn’t it? As a paladin, I’m sure you agree.”

“Faith is one thing, but I can’t say I’m pleased with what they’ve misguidedly done here,” Valeria sniffs.

“As I see it, they’re keeping the town safe. The Inquisitor explained it to me. It’s the will of the gods! Desperate times call for desperate measures, and, well, times are pretty desperate when you can’t even trust a circus! With your mind, that is. With your wallet, Guile walks with them, doesn’t he? Anyhow. These Penitent fellows, they seem extreme, but is there any other option?”

“There must be,” Valeria declares. “They’re detaining people at a crossroads, that’s the work of oppression.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far – see, the Inquisitor explained it to me. He is an experienced scholar of the faith, with a keen – not eye, I guess. A keen sense for the corruption that lurks in the hearts of men. I am, to be honest, just a glorified janitor!”

“I’m certain you’re more than that,” Valeria objects.

“Oh, there’s no need for that. It’s a role I’ve found fulfilling, keeping this place and these people.”

“Well, it seems like they’re brushing past this place in search of something new.”

“Yes, heh. I believe the intent is to make this town a bastion of faith. I’m sure that my little spot here will still remain in use, but more glorification to the gods is good, right?”

We botch an insight check and don’t get a real good sense of him. There isn’t the sense that he’s lying about anything – our impression is he believes it’s not his place to stand in the Penitents’ way; they must know better than him. He’s an old man who’s done a noble job, but he doesn’t think he’s cut out for determining who is or isn’t a danger to the town.

We try another tack: “I understand you’re on the town council?”

“I am. Don’t know why, really. We used to have a proper cleric, decades ago. When he died, I was closest thing to a replacement we had! As the keeper of town’s faith, I hold one of the three seats. Burgermeister Menner does most of running the town, but for the big things he calls in myself and the sheriff and we all take a vote.”

“Then you must have been a big part of bringing the Penitents in?”

“Well, Sheriff Wilbur’s the one who brought their offer to us. I did vote in favor, yes. The Inquisitor showed up personally with his people and described the whole arrangement he had in mind. The Penitents would reinforce and train our militia, and those guilty of corruption would be remanded into their custody for justice. It all seemed very reasonable; sheriff Wilbur does his best but clearly he and his deputies aren’t enough on their own, not against this sort of curse. Burgermeister Menner fell ill shortly afterwards, and I’ve been very busy here doing what I can to keep up folks’ faith.”

Shoshana butts in. “Have you actually been out to see the Penitents work?”

“Yes, once. It disturbed me, but I understand it couldn’t be avoided. The Inquisitor suggested it might be best to avoid seeing such things that upset me so.”

“But if it upsets you – wouldn’t you be the one with authority to change things?!” Valeria demands, failing a persuasion check.

“Oh, voting on anything like that has to wait until the Burgermeister feels better.”

“Can’t council members do anything on their own?”

“Like I said, we’d have to convene to vote…”

“Sure, for the big things,” Shoshana argues, “But the sheriff and Burgermeister have their own duties, don’t you have your own authority as well?”

“I - I suppose I could call clerics from other towns to take a look?”

Valeria puts a gauntleted hand on his shoulder and sparkles at him with all her charismatic piety. “You’re not just the keeper of the shrine, you’re the keeper of this town’s faith. I know you can make a difference.”

The dice land in her favor. “Yes!” the old man declares. “I will-I will do something. What is it I should do? I’m new to this. I’ve held this seat for 20 years but, well, doing something is new. Mostly council meetings are that the Burgermeister says I’d like to increase the tolls, I say the gods probably won’t argue, the sheriff says it won’t cause a riot, and then he does it. I am not suited for a crisis.”

“Well, what kinds of things do you normally do?”

“Er, sometimes I have to sit in on a trial and make sure the prisoner has an advocate?”

OH YOU’RE A PRISONER ADVOCATE, HUH. WELL BOY DO WE HAVE SOME PRISONERS FOR YOU.

“Why, don’t the Penitents do that as clerics of Rack?”

We politely do not laugh in his face. No, no they do not.

“Oh, then I must go at once!”

We’re gonna reconvene with the rest of the party, and then will see the gods’ justice done! After lunch!

The four of us, plus the Fairgolds, meet up. Flynn reports that there have been no changes; the Penitents let all carts through but seized some items, mostly books. We swap info about the Burgermeister and Keeper Remick. The town leadership is hardly good in a crisis, but the Penitents have definitely been separating and keeping them down on purpose.

The first step is to bring in Keeper Remick as our prisoner advocate for those folks being held in the basement. The old man puffs himself up with as much importance as he can, aided by all of us backing him up looking tough. “AHEM,” he announces to the nonplussed Penitent guard, “as a member the of town council and keeper of town’s faith, let me speak with your prisoners!”

Silence.

“Can I speak to your manager? I mean leader!”

The Penitent shakes his head.

“Now listen here young man, what seat do you hold on the town council?!”

The Penitent finally speaks. “I have been instructed to-“

“To work WITH the town council,” Remick retorts, showing a surprising amount of backbone. “No matter how much experience you all may have, it is my solemn duty to speak with the town’s prisoners! Allow ,e to do my duty or I will be forced to write a sternly worded letter! APOLOGIZING FOR FORCING OUR WAY PAST YOU!”

The Inquisitor glides up behind his guard, listening to Remick’s speech. “Very well,” he intones in his eerily calm voice, “You may…enter.”

We are brought down to basement. It’s a set of maybe 6 cells, more suited to being a drunk tank than any long-term holding cell. In one cell we spot the distinctive scales of a blue dragonborn, and as our footsteps clank on the stone, an equally distinctive voice begins to shout indignantly.

“You brutes, I demand you return my research materials to me! I was in the middle of some important work when- oh, you aren’t the warden. My goodness! Kyr Argent! I must say, it’s rather good to see a familiar face.” Oh, hi, Lucinius.

The cells are overcrowded – there must be 20 prisoners across 6 cells. Lucinius and everyone else crammed in with him look pretty beaten up. They all look completely normal; the ones with visible mutations have been imprisoned where people can see. These are the prisoners they wouldn’t be able to get away with holding publicly.

Lucinius has clearly got a rant building up. “I explained to them many times that I am a professor from Golden Academy, and they refused to listen! They said my studies are ‘heretical’ and my magics ‘invoke the name of the tyrant god’ – yes, obviously, they were written during the Aquilian empire, they said ‘Oberok’ every other word! It’s not a dirty word! Anyhow. Are you here to let us out?”

“We’re here to be advocates!”

“Oh, we’ve had advocates!” Lucinius huffs. “The Inquisitor is the prosecution, while one of those fanatic knights serves as our ‘advocate.’ It’s quite far from ideal; their position as advocate is that we ought to confess, if we understand the gravity of our crimes. And then they hit us a bit.”

“I’m unfamiliar with the customs of this land,” Gral allows, “but that doesn’t exactly sound like proper advocacy.”

“Well, I certainly don’t know how things are done in this country! I’ve never been accused of a cr- well, I have been accused of many crimes,” Lucinius admits. “I find it’s best never to assume about local customs. That got me into a LOT of trouble with the goblins. Did you know they have a ‘trial by fire?’ I misunderstood it, they just light a big fire to keep the courtroom warm while the trial goes all night. I went to great lengths to cast Protection from Energy! And of course it turns out casting spells as a prisoner is double illegal…”

“Double illegal?”

“Yes, it means they bring in twice as many judges.”

As he rants, the sight of innocent prisoners in miserable conditions seems to be a pretty strong argument. Remick’s fully on board with booting the Penitents out as soon as he can convene the town council.

Gral’s going to make a show of it. Loudly, he declares, “This is a violation of these citizens’ basic rights! We’ll need a full meeting of the town council before any Penitent activities continue!”

The Inquisitor hmms. “That’s…certainly something the Burgermeister could order. But nobody may leave if they have not been inspected. If we cannot continue our inspections, the town would shut down entirely.”

“The lockdown would only start once the Burgermeister declares it, which hasn’t happened yet,” Valeria interjects testily.

We’re politely and pointedly escorted out.

Lucinius shouts after us, “Don’t be long! Tell my bodyguards these people are not allowed into the cart without a warrant signed by someone of noble rank, or at least with a judicial position! Also, contact the embassy! They can’t do this to me, I have tenure-!”

The session closes as we discuss how the hell we’re going to get a Proper Council Meeting with the sheriff out “receiving instruction” from the Penitents and the Burgermeister convinced he’s indisposed. And we’ve got to get at least two of the three to vote the intruders out. That’s not gonna happen without them feeling like they have some way to protect the town from the Curse.

We fondly reminisce that our previous campaign’s party would definitely have started murdering people by now.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Tales from the Future - Batflash Week Day 1: Wards & Didn’t Know They Were Dating

After a tough mission in the future with the Titans, Damian and Wally discovered something very shocking. They couldn't keep this information to themselves, though, and decided to tell their families - save the very people the information is about.

Will the group of Robins and Speedsters stay focused enough to come up with a plan or realize that the future isn't as bad as they're fearing?

Damian watches Jason casually stroll in through the window, one leg swinging in after the other with practiced aloofness. “Tch,” he scoffs, “nice of you to show up.”

“Buzz off, Bat Brat,” Jason says, squeezing in between Dick and Tim on the couch. “I was busy .”

“Who was busy?” Dick asks.

“Me, I just said -”

“No, who was busy,” he clarifies, leering at Jason. Groans erupt from across the room, Damian hiding his face in his hand. Duke huffs from the armchair, mirroring him.

A smack echoes, Dick cursing. Tim glares from the other side of the couch, frowning. “None of us want to hear about Jason’s sex life.”

“I don’t know,” Dick says, rubbing his head, “I could use a good laugh or two.”

Sighing, Wally steps behind Damian. He turns to face his friend. Wally looks unimpressed, a similar expression to the other speedster guests who joined them this afternoon. The older Wally sits on the other armchair across from Duke, closer to Dick. Bart vibrates around the room, not really staying in one place for too long. “Is this how every meeting starts?”

“No,” Damian admits, “sometimes we do more than slap the other.”

Wally’s eyebrow climbs further up his forehead.

“Okay, everyone, settle down,” Damian calls. His brothers quiet immediately, giving him their attention. “We didn’t assemble to tease Jason.”

“But it’s such a fun team building activity.”

“Fuck you, Bubble Butt.”

“How dare you -”

Another clap silences them again. “Do I have to separate you two?” Damian asks, glancing between the older Robins. They dart their gazes towards one another for a brief second before relenting, a white flag waving from their stations. “Good,” he continues, running his hands across his chest. Smooths invisible wrinkles on his charcoal black button-down. “Now we’ve gathered you all for a reason.”

“A very important reason,” Wally preempts Bart, the latter’s jaw hanging. Offhand comment still cocked in his chamber, pulled from the trigger. “That has to deal with Barry and Bruce.”

Their family sobers immediately at the mention of their respective elders. “Really?” Dick asks, “What is it?”

Damian and Wally glance between themselves, silently discussing who would start. Taking too long, Jason breaks their debate. “Someone just freakin ’ start already!”

Taking point, Damian clears his throat. “We’d finished a mission with Jon, saying our goodbyes to him and his team in the future…”

A mission to the future seemed too early for Damian’s ragtag team of Titans. He could barely get them to stop fighting each other to handle villains of this century, there was no telling how they’d fare against criminals with advanced and alien tech. Yet Jon came for him at an inopportune time. Bubble bursting in during a team meeting, popping out with his friend , Saturn Girl.

“Damian,” he panted, ash smudged across his face, “I need you.”

That was all the convincing needed. Except the moment he set a foot into the time bubble a gust of wind sped past and snatched his wrist.

Wally wouldn’t let Damian leave them, the others gathering round demanding to be brought along. Damian scowled, trying to figure out a quick enough argument to shut the idea down without offending them. Because he promised them he’d be kinder . Kindness cost him dearly, since Saturn Girl gave them a free pass by saying, “Of course you can come along.”

Carried into the time bubble by the incoming stampede, they squished together to travel to the 31st century. He squirmed between Crush and Roundhouse, annoying Wally given the timed puffs of air he breathed through his nose.

“You were tickling my chin,” Wally scoffs, “And it was taking too slow.”

“We were advancing 1000 years in a blink of an eye!” Damian cries, “There’s nothing slow about it -”

“Guys, focus!” Wally says, “What does this have to do with Barry and Bruce?”

“Well, when we got there it turns out this villain had taken control of their head quarters,” Wally says, ignoring his cousin.

A green, floating eyeball paraded around the Legion of Superheroes’ Clubhouse. Members with glowing, verdant gazes stalked the halls like zombies. Unfortunately they proved much more resourceful and smarter than their appearance.

An accidental sneeze from Roundhouse alerted their presence, and heroes descended upon them. Damian found himself holding off a wolf-man with his staff caught in his sharp jaws. When he flipped the beast off him, Damian saw the rest of his team separated and battling in their own small groups. And the eye, watching them. Waiting.

“Its owner entered with fanfare,” Damian tells them, “using this boy who shoots lightning for special effects.”

Tim yawns, “Why does this matter?”

“It does! Now, she entered…”

The Emerald Empress immediately captured Roundhouse with her Eye, trapping him in her spell like all the others. Saturn Girl shouted for them to retreat, falling back towards a secret tunnel. Except on their way Djinn snagged her ankle on a waiting hand, phased through the floor.

“Go!” she says, “I’ll be fine!”

Damian froze, only Wally’s fast reflexes pulling him out from falling debris dropped by a gravity manipulator. They left Djinn and Crush - the latter shoving past Emiko to help the other girl. Behind the shut door of the secret entrance Damian saw emerald light flash and his heart sank.

“This is why you should have stayed in the past,” Damian growled once they snuck far enough away, “Not even five minutes and we’ve already lost half the team!”

“We’ll save them, Damian,” Wally said, a steady calm to the raging storm brewing inside the smaller boy, “We always will.”

“Don’t see how,” Emiko added, the first few words since travelling to the future. “Her Eye looks kitted to the max. Coupled with the heroes she already has under her thrall and the ones we gave her… I don’t think we have much of a chance.”

Damian huffed, “Especially once she combines her Eye with Djinn’s magic -”

“Djinn?” Bart asks, “Who’s Djinn? You keep mentioning her.”

Flushing, Damian glances at the grandfather clock ticking ceaselessly in the lounge. “She’s a team member of ours… very powerful magic, one of our strongest assets, and -”

“Damian’s got a total crush on her.”

He whips his head to glare at Wally, the other boy standing nonplussed. Instead of a smirk, a harsh line cuts across his face. As if his words were more of a tiresome fact than rope to hang him with.

His brothers gladly string him up. Dick coos, “Aw, you’ve got a crush Damian?”

“Thank God,” Jason says, “Maybe you’ll finally get that stick out of your ass.”

“Does this mean we have to chaperone you?” Tim asks, “Because I don’t want to double date…”

Duke leans forward in his seat. “Are we going to ever meet her?”

Damian waves their comments away. “This isn’t about me. And for the record I don’t have a crush.”

Jason scoffs, “Sounds like what someone with a crush would say.”

“I don’t!”

“Jason knows what’s he’s talking ‘bout,” Dick nods, clapping Jason’s shoulder, “Guy’s king of unrequited crushes.”

He brushes Dick’s hand off him. “Fuck you, at least half of them were requited.”

“Sure, and I made it to fifth base with Harley Quinn…”

Bart zips over to Tim, whispering. “What’s fifth base?”

Tim shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”

Wally pinches his brow, reclining into his armchair. “Can we please get back to the story?”

“I would be glad to,” Damian says, “if people would let me.” Given the floor once more, Damian carries on where he left off.

They regrouped. Jon led them in a motivational speech, every word and gesture oozing small town sensibility. His father would be proud. After he rallied the troops, Saturn Girl presented schematics of the Legion headquarters. Damian and Emiko poured over the holograms, planning their assault. Satisfied with a course of action, the group returned.

Although their plans strayed early on from the course they laid. A few heroes that Saturn Girl thought were off-planet appeared and forced them to separate. Damian and Jon fled down one hallway, followed by a barrage of shrapnel. Cosmic Boy, as Jon told him, barreled their way with a Lantern and an orange lizard-creature at his side.

Jon handled the flankers, Damian keeping Cosmic Boy occupied. With power over metal most of his arsenal was useless, and he dropped it so he wouldn’t be controlled. Instead Damian relied on his training, utilizing the environment to his advantage. Waiting for Leading Cosmic Boy into a narrow hallway, snaking around the metal he pulled. Pushing his reflexes to the limit, Damian dodged each swipe until Cosmic Boy trapped himself in a cage of wires and panels.

Unable to move, Damian rabbit punched him.

Jon dumped his attackers to the floor when Damian returned, and together they advanced to the main room. Regrouping with the others, they stormed where Emerald Empress hid.

More heroes awaited them, guarding their queen while she mixed the emerald energy from her eye with Djinn’s unique purple magic. This timeline’s Doctor Fate underneath like a scale, helping to balance the power.

Knocking away a ball boy into identical triplets, Damian noticed the colors mixing together hideously. Terribly foreboding, a chill shot through his spine. “We need to stop this!” he yelled, tumbling underneath lightning.

Wally wrapped up a talking raccoon and hurled him towards a green-skinned boy. Being the only one who heard Damian, he tracked his gaze to the makeshift throne. “Okay,” he said, “let’s stop this.”

“So?” Bart asks, “How’d you stop it?”

Damian pouts, crossing his arms. “He threw me.”

“What?”

“He threw men,” he repeats, “at the Emerald Empress.”

Wally nods, smiling. “While I dealt with Doctor Fate.”

With those two erased from the equation, it was only Djinn and the Emerald Eye. Their auras swirled in battle for dominance. When it looked like the green would overtake Djinn’s purple, her eyes flashed brilliantly violet and swept over the encroaching light like a tidal wave. Purple energy coursed through the Emerald Eye until it short-circuited and turned grey. It fell to the floor, powerless.

Spell broken, the others woke from their trances. Some moaned with pain while others blinked in confusion. Their friends, Crush and Roundhouse, staggered away from Saturn Girl and Jon while returning to their senses.

“You beat the villain, big whoop,” Jason says, “still don’t see what this has to do with Bats and Flash.”

Wally rolls his eyes. “After the fight, when we were saying our goodbyes to the team…”

Roundhouse bounced between Jon, Saturn Girl, Wally and him, drawing the Legionnaires attention towards him. Asked questions with blazing speed that surpassed their speedster. Jon led him away from the group, Saturn Girl at his side while explaining a few of the concepts to sate his curiosity.

Leaving Wally and Damian open for an ambush.

“Excuse me?” someone cleared their throat behind them, “I… I can’t believe you’re actually here…”

Startled, Damian brandished a bat-a-rang immediately and spun on his heel to attack. Before he could launch his weapon, though, Wally gripped his wrist in an iron vice. “Damian, no ,” he scolded, nodding towards the frightened teenager in front of them, “ friend .”

He glared at the speedster, unrelenting in his combat stance. Wally didn’t back down either.

The newcomer looked between them, nerves dying as each second ticked on by. “Uh… is he gonna put that down?”

“Yes.” “ No .”

Wally sighed, lowering Damian’s hand. “Sorry, we’re a little on edge…”

“Yeah, yeah,” the teen said, “Emerald Empress took a lot out of all of us… your team did a great job.”

Nodding, Damian used his silence to study the newcomer. Recognizes him from their previous battle as the one with lightning powers. If he hadn’t witnessed his powers in action the costume would telegraph immediately what he can do. Lightning bolts mean two things - and he didn’t rush away like any other speedster would when presented with danger. So that meant the only other option was electricity manipulation. “Who are you?”

“Oh, right, uh -” the teen chuckles awkwardly, scratching his head, “the name’s Garth - or, uh Lightning Lad.”

“Cool. I’m Wally, Kid Flash. And my trigger happy friend is Damian -”

“ Robin .”

“...I was getting to that.”

Garth beamed, “I know, I know! I… kinda know a lot about you, actually…”

A chill raced down Damian’s spine at the giddiness crackling across Garth’s face. Being trapped with a fanboy is not what he needed. Wally tensed as well, darting his gaze over in silent communication. However a different emotion flickered behind his eyes, telling Damian to suck up whatever outburst bubbled up inside him. He snapped his jaw shut. Agreeing to play nice only because he felt too tired to cause a scene.

“Hey,” Wally started, “it’s always great to meet a fan -”

“A huge fan,” Garth cut him off, “Like, you’re such an inspiration. I remember growing up, whenever a dust storm tore through our settlement and we’d be locked inside for days , my brother, sister and I would read up on all your classic adventures.” He turns to Damian, “Both of yours.”

“I’m surprised you had time to even read about his ,” Damian smirked, “ my adventures - that have passed and are yet to come - should have been enough entertainment.”

“...Actually you’re featured in a lot of Flash’s stories.”

Damian bristled again, not caring for how Wally’s chest puffed up. Only to deflate slightly, with a sigh. “Looks like I’ll never get rid of you,” he mumbled.

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky I still hang around you after all these years…”

Garth chuckled. “Oh, man… the banter is just like they said it’d be.” He bounced where he stood, sparks jumping off his shoulders. “I really can’t believe… you two. Some of the best teen heroes. You are part of the reason I am who I am today. I’ve met Superman and Jon already… all I’ll need for my life to be complete is to meet the originals and I’ll be set!”

“Originals?” Damian asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You know, your mentors. Batman and Flash ,” Garth continued, eyes glowing blue, “Those guys, I mean… Growing up where I’m from there were some pretty strict rules on how to live your life. If you didn’t fit the mold you’d be ignored and cast aside. My brother Mekt… being born without a twin… Anyway, Batman and Flash were in your face with who they were. When they came out they didn’t bat an eye -”

“What?”

Damian and Wally leaned forward with vested interest. “What?” Wally said again, “What do you mean, ‘came out’?”

“When they publicly announced they were dating?” Garth answered, “Well… it’s not like they had a choice, what with that picture in the Gotham Gazette but - hey, they didn’t deny it! That’s…” He stilled, finally noticing the expressions of the others. “You didn’t know? But aren’t you from… wait, what year are you from?”

“2019.”

Garth paled, stepping away from them. “Oh… oh frack . I - I shouldn’t have said that, should I?”

It didn’t matter. The future dropped upon them like a bombshell. Damian’s vision whited briefly until he blinked into awareness once more. Wally’s grip on his wrist tightened, reminding him that throughout the conversation he latched on like a vice. Wrenching free, the bat-a-rang fell with a clatter.

“Please,” Garth whispered urgently, “forget I said anything. Brainy’s all about not interfering with the timeline. If he finds out I outed them he’ll kill me… and that’d really hurt my chances with the guy.” He looked between them. “You don’t have any questions, do you?”

There were a million. Except Jon returned, telling them how it was time the Titans returned to the present. Herded into the time bubble, Wally and Damian didn’t say another word about what they learned. Waiting for the perfect moment to discuss it.

With others who deserved to know.

They watch their family process the information, breath held, waiting for a response.

Bart reacts first. He snorts, drawing all focus to him. A single laugh blossoms into a full-body heave until he tips over the couch, sprawling across Damian’s brothers’ laps. “That’s really funny guys,” he wheezes, “Seriously… amazing.”

Damian scowls. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because it’s not true?”

“We were in the future, Bart,” Wally says, “How can it not be true?”

“Maybe it has to do with the fact that I’m from the future?” he says, “Because I’m Barry and Iris’s grandson . If they somehow didn’t end up together d’you think I’d still be here?”

“Then again,” Tim interrupts, “you are from a timeline that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Bart’s good mood shatters into a million pieces. Pouting, he glares at his friend. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Jason shifts under his heavy weight, rolling Bart off. “So,” he says after the heavy thud , “What are we gonna do?”

“Who says we have to do anything?” Duke says, “It sounds like them getting together is a good thing - hey !” He whacks the pillow thrown at him from its target, his face. Jason, the guilty culprit, looks remorseless. “What was that?”

“You were speaking crazy,” Jason tells him, “How can Bruce dating Barry be any good .”

Dick smirks, folding his arms across his chest. “Wow, Jason. Didn’t know you were a homophobe .”

“Fuck you, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?”

Jason sinks into the couch, mirroring his brother. “If Bruce really is gay, bi or… queer than… it’ll be another thing we have in common,” he whines, “The more that happens the sadder I get.”

“Wow,” Dick says, voice thick with emotion. He reaches across to squeeze Jason’s shoulder. “I can’t believe… you actually followed through whenever I told you to suck a dick. I’m proud of you.”

Slapping Dick off him, Jason bares his teeth in a growl. “Keep talking and I’ll show you how I beat Dick .”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Wally zooms from his seat and breaks the two apart, hands firm against their chests. “Knock it off you two, we’re getting distracted from the bigger picture… how to make sure this doesn’t happen.”

“You mean you don’t want to be brothers, Wall?”

He rolls his eyes at Dick’s artificially sweet expression. “Batman’s creepy enough without imagining him all domestic with Barry.”

“Or all sex-like ,” Jason adds, making every wrinkle in the room crease with agony.

Damian shakes the image from his mind, switching back onto the topic at hand. “Now we’ll have to be very careful so they won’t find out we’re on to them -”

“Which’ll be hard,” Tim adds, “they’re two of the best detectives in the world.”

“But they’re only two people,” Wally says, stepping closer to Damian, “we’re a team . Trade shifts - always knowing where they are. Making sure they’re not alone together.”

Wally raises a brow at his cousin. “I bet you want to tell Superman or Wonder Woman, too… have an inside operative during Justice League meetings.”

“...That could work.”

Duke stands with a shout, interrupting the planning. “This is crazy! If Bruce and Barry want to be together than why should we get in the way? It seems like the future’s pretty good when they’re a couple. Are we really gonna get in the way of that?”

His outburst brings an unexpected bout of clarity to Damian’s plans, parting the cloudy skies for sunshine to burst through. Reminded of Garth’s casual openness about himself and his reverence to Damian’s father, he winces.

Like dominoes everyone else sobers into quiet reflection. The energy fueling the crazy planning in the room deflates, letting everyone return to their senses. Damian feels the tightness of his bones over hearing the shocking news finally settle, as if coming to terms with the future.

Dick clears his throat, the first to break the silence. “But if they do get together,” he starts, waiting until he’s found every eye in the room before continuing, “... then Jason won’t be special anymore.”

“That’s it !”

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

Bruce adjusts himself on the Batcave’s examination table, eyes fluttering shut as Barry runs careful fingers across his temple. When they stumble over the cut he hisses, a hand darting over to squeeze his.

“Sorry ‘bout that, babe,” Barry says, “that’s one well hidden wound.”

“It’s okay,” he says, “It’s my fault for letting Kite Man get the drop on me.” The mediocre villain swooped in and sliced open his cowl with the tail of his giant kite, catching the Dark Knight in a moment of weakness. If Barry hadn’t been at his side, he would have walked away with much worse.

“I’m surprised he got a few good swings in,” Barry says, dabbing at the cut with some peroxide, “You feeling okay?”

“I’ve… got a lot on my mind.”

Barry pauses, pulling away. Bruce cracks one eye open, frowning at the seriousness weighing on his lover’s shoulders.

“Nothing bad,” he continues, snaking his arms across Barry’s waist to bring him closer. Spreads his legs open so he can fit between them. He nuzzles at his chest, enjoying the frantic heartbeat that is normal for Barry Allen. “I… I’ve been thinking about us and… the future .”

“...Wanna elaborate on that so my mind won’t fill in the blanks?”

Bruce takes a steadying breath, the words rushing from his mouth afterwards. “I want to tell the boys about us.”

An eternity passes in a second, Bruce clinging tight to Barry’s body. Afraid the other man will vibrate free and out of his life. That never happens. Instead the opposite, Barry settles further into the moment. Tips Bruce’s head so he can see the beaming smile on his face.

“What brought this on?”

“I… I just think that we've been really good,” Bruce explains, hating how his nerves easily expose themselves in the tremble of his voice. “And I understood why you wanted to take this slow, in case things don’t work out. It wouldn’t be the first for either of us, to have a relationship fall apart. But everyday you stay by my side and I… I feel different. Better. Happier . And I think the same is true for you. We’re making each other better people. I love you and I love the person you inspire me to be… And I want my family to know.”

Barry offers a wet chuckle, hiding in Bruce’s hair. He kisses the cut he grazed earlier, a few tears trickling into it. Composing himself, Barry straightens in Bruce’s embrace. “I love you, too,” he says, “And if you want to tell your boys then… I want to tell the Flash family, too.”

“Really?”

“We should do it together, actually,” he continues, skin vibrating in excitement, “have some sort of family dinner!”

“They’ll immediately sense something’s up if we do that,” Bruce laughs, “You sure we can’t just call a meeting down here and… rip the band-aid off? In costume?”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Come on, it won’t be so bad. I mean what’s the worst that can happen?”

Bruce readies a response, only the clacking of Alfred’s heels interrupts him. His butler speeds over with anxious haste. “Master Bruce? Barry?”

“Yes Alfred?”

“It’s the boys.”

A headache tickles his head, adding to the pain already camping there. “Which boys.”

“All the boys,” he says, turning to Barry, “even your boys.”

“What?” Barry asks, “What are they doing here?”

“I don’t know, but a fight’s broken out!”

Barry tenses against Bruce. “A fight?”

Bruce, disappointed, sighs while sliding off the table. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. One moment I was in the kitchen readying dinner and the next I knew there were crashing sounds coming from the parlor. When I got there Duke had a speedster in a headlock, Dick and Wally were fighting, and Jason hung Damian off the chandelier… again .”

Frowning, Bruce fixes his cowl. He looks to Barry, “Looks like family dinner will have to wait.”

Barry shrugs, mirroring him. “I can hope. Besides… that wouldn’t have been very us , would it?” He slips his hand into Bruce’s waiting one, squeezing.

“No it wouldn’t,” Bruce agrees. “Now come on, we have a fight to break up.”

[rallis-fatalis]

Dungeons and Dragons (and Dorks)

Zeah is big and exciting with adventure around every corner! There always seems to be something new to find and do. Adam and Rallis bring Peg along on a field trip to western reaches of Zeah, the lands of Kebos, for some sightseeing and exploring. There's a dungeon full of dragons to explore and by Guthix these dorks will befriend them!

The lands to the west of Kourend weren't often traveled by people. It was too close to lizardman territory for comfort and the odd immortal rock built race of the Tasakaal and Kahlith unnerved some of the locals. The people of Shayzien didn't much care for the lands either, thinking the Hosidians were fools for building one of their most important guilds so close between these two features. Many saw it as a waste of time and resources to guard it when they could be fighting instead.

Its out of the way nature certainly didn't stop people from enjoying the guild, however. The farming guild attracted a great many people, young, old, warrior, and pacifist alike. Three of those many people certainly stood out from the rest, a tall green man, a talking blue dragon, and a girl who turned into a raccoon. The girl had turned into a raccoon to snooze with a cat in the sunny gazebo while the man tended to a tree the dragon was stealing fruit from. The dragon slid out of the tree with a plop, arms filled with pink fruit, face covered in juice of a similar color.

The man sighed. "Rallis, can you please leave my tree alone?"

Rallis stuffed another fruit into her face. "Nope." She spat the seeds out. He gave her a glare. "Adam, let me have this."

Adam grumbled and got back to what he was doing. It had hardly been a day and she was already addicted to dragonfruit. Rallis sauntered over to the sleeping cat and raccoon and sat down, startling them both awake. She handed the raccoon a fruit. "They're really good, try one." As she smiled, bits of the fruit slid off her now pink stained teeth onto the ground. The raccoon shook her head and sat up. She didn't want pink juice in her fur.

Adam brushed the dirt off his gloves and outfit and proudly stepped away from the tree. "All done!"

The raccoon happily chirped and in a flash turned into a dark clothed girl. "Does that mean we can go now?!" she shouted excitedly.

"Sure, Peg, we can go," Adam said. Peg cheered. "Why do you want to go to Karuulm so badly anyway?"

"You two already got to go and that's no fair," she stomped. "I want to see it too!"

"I wanna look around more too!" Rallis smiled. "Let's hurry up and go, moss giant!"

Adam rolled his eyes at the moniker and followed the two out the guild, watching them sprint out the doors and toward the mountain.

Mount Karuulm loomed ominously in the distance, a stark black in contrast with the electric blue dripping and pooling down its peak. The plant life withered and died until there was nothing but glassy stone and sulphureous pits of blue lava. The place looked uninviting and smelled just as bad.

Peg gagged at the overbearing smell of rotten eggs. "This place reeks!" she complained.

"It's the sulphur," Adam explained. "The mountain has a ton of it. Makes the place stink and dyes the lava blue."

"It smells bad but it's super pretty!" Rallis said cheerfully. No matter the situation, it always seemed she had something nice to say.

The three scaled the mountain, Rallis and Peg scuttling over the rocks with ease while Adam bitched and moaned as he kept slipping, having to take the longer way around, and the trio soon crested the mountaintop. Peg was excitedly taking in the sights, the neat dragon adorned elevator that descended into the volcanic heart of the mountain, the glowing pools of superheated blue, and the interesting locals. She didn't understand what the were quite frankly.

"Those are the Kahlith!" Rallis explained. "They're rock people! And they're made of lava too. That's why they glow blue! Cool right?"

"Yeah," Peg nodded as she eyed one of the rock beings up. It seemed to sense her gaze and turned her way. The girl broke eye contact before they could notice.

"Well, to go into the volcano you're going to need some new boots," Adam told her. "Let's go get some."

"But I'm already wearing boots. Why do I need new ones?"

"We're going into a volcano. Your feet will burn if you don't have these." Adam stomped his feet and Peg noticed he had boots made of the stone from the mountain.

"Those look heavy," she grimaced.

"Yeah well it's either the extra weight or you lose your toes. Pick."

Peg shuddered at the thought of losing her feet and complied, following the two to a tented section of the mountain. Underneath a canopy stood a tall Kahlith woman, sorting through various weaponry and equipment. Adam cleared his throat to grab her attention.

"Ah, greetings," she turned to them. "How may I help you this time?"

"Peg needs boots!" Rallis said and pointed to her companion's feet.

The Kahlith woman looked the girl over with a hum. "So small... I may have some. One moment." Peg frowned at being called small as the woman dug through some supplies. She held a pair of stone boots up. "Try these." She handed Peg the boots and the girl slid them on. They were a little big but boy were they heavy. She stomped around in them to test them out and felt like a duck awkwardly plopping around.

"These suck," Peg groaned.

"That means they're great," Adam told the woman. He handed her a fistful of gold. "Thanks Konar."

As the three walked along, Peg noticed something. "Hey! How come Rallis isn't wearing any shoes?!"

The dragon snorted. "I grew up in a lava filled dungeon. You really think I need those? Walk around Mor-Ul-Rek barefoot and come back to me."

Peg narrowed her eyes at the logic. The three soon found themselves at the elevator once more, Peg slower than her companions with the new shoes. She jokingly lifted her legs with her hands and dropped them to take each step, but Adam told her to stop being dramatic about it. With a few cranks and pulls of the elevator winch, they quickly found themselves in the heart of the mountain.

Despite being underground now in a series of dark caverns, the entire tunnel system was bright and well lit with glowing blue. Lava flowed and pooled all around them, illuminating the cavern with electric fire. The three walked forward to an opening that branched three different ways, three massive stone figures seated in thrones by each path. They paid no mind to the trio coming closer, nor to any other adventurers exploring the grounds.

"Who are they?" Peg whispered.

"The Tasakaal," Rallis explained. "The elders of the rock people from earlier. They're annoying and rude and finish each other's sentences. Just ignore them. Let's actually explore this place this time!"

Adam and Rallis had already visited the mountain and the Tasakaal but it was only for a moment to speak with the elders and they left quickly. They hadn't the time to explore any deeper. Some of the adventurers taking a break in the farming guild spoke of dragons that weren't quite dragons farther in the caves though, and that grabbed all three of their attentions. Rallis grabbed her companions by the hand and pulled them along the first path she saw. After a few twists and turns, hissing echoed off the walls. Adam pried Rallis' hands off them and told her to wait, wary of the hissing. Her shield made a similar sound before it froze someone to death and it made him go immediately on alert, though this one sounded more crackly, more electric. He poked his head around the corner and saw what looked like the ground itself slithering and moving, pale blue light flashing with the movement. Rallis and Peg snuck a glance too, Rallis grinning and leaving the safety of the wall.

"Rallis wait!" Adam hissed through his teeth as his friend wandered into the pit of slithering rock. As she got closer, all movement stopped. It made him nervous, putting a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Rallis crouched and smiled as she held a hand out. "Wow you guys are hard to see! But I see you! Hello! How are you?"

At once, the ground was alive with movement and hissing. With a flash of blue, all the slithering beasts became cloaked in light and visible. They looked like horned snakes, slithered like them too, but they had small arms and legs so they had to be some kind of lizard. And they were huge! Nearly big enough to swallow a grown man whole. They all slithered around Rallis, curious. She gave one a pat and at its request began to pet it snout to tail.

"Oh, you're so cute! Yes you are! And so wiggly! Oh you're so adorable!" She cooed and pet the growing pile of wriggly lizards as they hissed with happiness. She turned back to where her friends were hiding. "Why are you two still over there? Come here!"

Adam and Peg slowly snuck out, all the lizards going on the defensive, some even taking to the air, floating with the power of electricity and magic. Rallis waggled her finger at them. "Now, now, they're with me! Be nice!" Begrudgingly, they went back to normal, the ones taking flight hovering over to the new guests to give them a sniff.

Peg watched the wingless beasts fly around the room with awe. "What are they? And how are they doing that?"

"I think they're wyrms," Rallis said. "Dragons that fly with magic instead of wings. I've read about them. Didn't know they were this big though!"

"How can a dragon fly without wings?" Adam questioned as he crouched by a wyrm coming up to him to say hello. "That shouldn't be possible."

"I can fly a little bit and I've barely got wings," Rallis countered.

"Yeah well you have the help of a god, so you tell me." Adam timidly put his hand out to pet the serpent. It seemed to like it, begging for more pets. The man couldn't help but smile at the long silly serpent wriggling like a happy dog.

Peg yelled happily as she sat on a huge wyrm's back and rode it as it took to the air. It swam through the room with grace, carrying the cheering girl on its back. "These things are so cool!"

The three played around for a little longer before moving on, giving the playful serpents a farewell and final pat. They continued on to the main room and took the second path this time, trudging up stairs carved into the rock and reaching a higher point in the underground tunnels. Peg panted as she had to lift her heavy boots up the stairs, huffing and puffing at every step. Rallis frowned at a huge hole near the top once they finished the climb. The hole rested directly above the three Tasakaal in all their glory.

"Think I can land on one of their heads from up here?" Rallis said.

"Now, now," Adam chided. "Leave them alone."

She grumbled and moved away from the hole, leading her friends to a path to the south. At the end of the path, Rallis gasped and ran into the clearing it opened out to. The room was full of fat orange lizards, each about the size of a cat! Rallis squealed with delight as she picked up an armful of them. "OH MY GOD THEY'RE SO CUTE!"

Peg laughed and picked one up as well. It didn't seem to mind, licking its eye as it looked up at the smiling girl. "They're so big! Do lizards normally get this big?"

"Not that I've seen!" Adam said as he picked up an especially fat one. He went nose to nose with the smiling orange lizard. "You're as fat as Tanner after Wintumber!" The lizard burped in his face in response, a gross sulphur smell. The man hacked and coughed and put the lizard down. "Well I guess I know what they eat now. Maybe the sulphur makes them big."

Rallis carried about five in her arms as she started to make her way back to the hole and continue onward. "Rallis," Adam called after her. She looked at him like she was doing nothing wrong. "Put them back," he pointed to the room. The dragon pouted and let them go, watching them scurry away.

They returned to the hole and took the opposing path this time. Within moments, a bloodcurdling scream greeted them. Adam and Rallis immediately went on alert, Adam brandishing his sword and Rallis her whip. As they edged down the path, a man came crashing into the wall, clutching his arm and panting, nearly on the verge of tears. Peg stole a glance at the man from behind her guards and winced. The metal armour on his shoulder and arms were melted, eaten away by something and his arm underneath was a bloody bubbling mess. Skin blistered open from the heat and blood dripped down to his hand, sizzling from the heat of the melting armour. Adam and Rallis quickly put their weapons away and helped the poor man.

"What happened?!" Adam nearly snapped at the man in worry. He started to pull the armour off, Rallis trying to help. As she neared the man however, he jumped back in fear. If he wasn't so hurt, he would have pointed his sword at her.

"Filthy fire breathing beast!" he shouted at her. "Stay back!"

Rallis' ears drooped as she tried getting closer. "I'm just trying to help! And I don't even breathe fire! Stop moving and let us help you!"

The man groaned as Adam finally wrenched his platebody off. Now the damage to his arm was more apparent, entire limb red with burns and blood. It felt hot to the touch. "Rallis, ice?" Adam motioned. She nodded and put her hand in front of the mouth of her shield. It spat out a light coating of ice onto her glove as well as a few small chunks. She handed Adam some ice chunks and put the rest on the man's arm. He winced at first, but soon the cold kicked in and he visibly relaxed. She gently ran her hand over the worst part of his arm, glove leaving a coating of frost behind, already melting from the heat.

"What did this?" Adam tried again, hoping he would speak now.

The man shook his head. "A-A dragon, I think. I-It looked like a dragon, breathed fire like a dragon, but it had no wings. It attacked me for no reason and burned me."

"Dragons are territorial," Rallis said. "All you would have to do is enter its territory and it could grow angry. You said it had no wings?"

"Wings, no wings, whatever man! All I know is it's pissed and strong. I didn't think I'd need a shield here!"

"Neither did we," Adam warned Rallis. "We should go. Only you have a shield and we need to get this man hel--"

The walls shook. Bits of rock tumbled from the ceiling and bounced off their heads. Stomping echoed down the path. Something was coming.

The wounded man started to panic. "That's the dragon!" he shouted. "We gotta go!"

As if on cue, a roar greeted their ears, very close by. Adam wrapped his arm around the man and pushed him along. "Let's go!"

Rallis ran fast at the head of the group, Adam helping the man right behind her. Peg was stumbling along, trying her best to keep up in the heavy awkward boots. A roar and a crash followed the group right behind them as a hulking brute of a dragon crashed through the wall. It was built like a tank, covered in black volcanic armour and snorting fire. It found Peg directly in front of it and roared, ready to charge. The girl screamed as she tried to run faster, tripping over her boots and falling to the floor. The dragon stomped over and gnashed its blackened rocky teeth at her.

"PEG!"

Adam nearly threw the wounded man aside to help his friend, but Rallis was faster. The girl stared up at the glowing red maw of the dragon, too scared to move. As it bit down, Rallis slid in front of her, catching the beast's jaws on her shield. With a hiss, the shield launched a flare of ice into its throat, extinguishing whatever flames it was about to set loose. The dragon whined in pain and staggered back, pawing at its throat. Rallis roughly grabbed Peg by the arm and threw her away from the monster, readying to defend them as it was already recovering.

"Rallis come on!" Adam snapped from down the way.

"Just keep going!" she ordered. "I'll be fine!" They ran off, no questions asked. If anyone knew how to handle a dragon, it was her.

Now recovered, the beast looked around in confusion. Where had its prey gone? It saw only the blue dragon and howled in rage. It stomped, ready to charge again.

"Wait, please!" Rallis tried in Wyvernic. "Please tell me what's wrong! I can help!"

It ignored her and charged, Rallis deflecting the blow with her shield as she dodged. It tried to hit her once more but rammed its armored head into the wall instead. Rallis dodged its charge once more and the beast slammed its shoulder into the hard rocky wall. It howled in pain and staggered, shaking from the blow. Confused, Rallis took a closer look. If this was a dragon, where it should have had wings there were instead two giants sores. They cracked and blistered between its shoulders as if they couldn't heal. Heat poured out from the sores, making the wounds burn even more.

"Did someone hurt you?" Rallis tried once more. "Please, tell me what's wrong!"

It righted itself from the blow and charged again in a fit of rage. Rallis leapt over the beast and onto its back, right between the wounds on its shoulders. It screeched and howled as it tried to buck her off. "Stop it! I'm trying to help!"

She held on and focused as best she could, trying to ready some of the runes in her pouch while still staying on the rampaging dragon. She then placed her hand on one of the sores, feeling the heat burn her glove, and concentrated. As she did, her hand glowed and so did the beast's wounds. As she held her hand in place, the two wounds started to heal and close, skin knitting itself together. Rallis whined in pain, feeling every bit of pain she was taking away from the dragon, and when the wounds finally healed, she fell to the ground screaming. She couldn't help it, it felt like her wings were on fire and burning off. The pain was so much it hurt to breathe, hurt to move, hurt to exist. She writhed and flailed on the ground as the glow disappeared from her hands and screamed herself hoarse.

Not understanding what just happened, the beast sniffed at Rallis, no longer blinded by rage. It didn't hurt anymore, not a bit! It poked her with its nose but that only seemed to make things worse.

"RALLIS!"

A voice bounced off the walls as its owner came closer. Adam dashed around the corner, winded, and found Rallis squirming on the ground and shrieking as the wingless dragon stood over her. He drew his sword and snarled. "WHAT DID YOU DO?! GET AWAY FROM HER!" Adam was at the beast in the blink of an eye and slammed his sword on its head. The armour plating knocked the blade away, hardly even leaving a scratch. The dragon shoved him away with a growl, growing angry once more. Adam readied to strike again but was stopped by his friend.

"STOP!" she cried from the floor. "Help. Please."

The man put his weapon away and scooped her off the floor. He warily eyed the beast but it did not strike. He gently pat her head as she tried to catch her breath. "Rallis what happened?"

Rallis swallowed her pain and tried to speak. "I healed it. It was hurt and angry so I healed it." She started to cry in his shoulder now. "It hurts so much!"

Adam ran back to the entrance of the mountain without another word. Now he had two people who needed help. The wingless dragon followed them a ways before stopping and making its way back to wherever it came from.

The four eventually made their way to the farming guild where the staff and Shayzien soldiers looked them over and helped however they could. The man was patched up but no one could find what was wrong with Rallis. She was just blistering hot and wanted water and lots of it. She passed out soon after.

Adam and Peg fretted over her as she napped under a tree. She seemed fine now, but they still worried. The snarling visage of the dragon chomping down made Peg shiver. She wondered how the two of them could face dangers like that every day without flinching. She would be sure to thank Rallis when she woke up. And she did wake up soon after the ordeal was over. The sun had begun to set and Rallis slowly pulled herself from the nice grassy spot under the dragonfruit tree. She sat up tiredly and grabbed a fruit, chomping into it and dripping pink juice everywhere.

"First thing after waking up you grab a snack? You're fine."

Rallis turned to see Adam shaking his head as she bit into the fruit. Peg was beside him, hiding a smile. "Oh did you want some?" the dragon asked as she held her half eaten fruit to them.

"No, no I'm good," Adam chuckled as Peg nodded. "You had us worried, you know! What did you do with that dragon? You were crying about how everything burned and hurt the whole way here."

Rallis turned away in shame. "I did? I'm sorry. I don't remember." She nibbled the fruit in her hands. "That dragon was mad because he was hurting so much. So I fixed him. But then it made me hurt. I don't remember anything after."

"You need to be more careful then," Adam told her. "You used that healing spell again, didn't you? That lunar magic is a double edged sword, you should know better."

"I just wanted to help," she pouted. "Are you okay by the way?" she addressed Peg.

The girl nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." A pause. "Thank you for saving me. I was scared that... that..."

Rallis waved her hand. "Don't worry about it. I always help my friends! Is that guy we found okay too?"

Adam nodded. "The soldiers took him. He should be fine."

"That's good. I don't think the dragon meant it. He was just hurting."

The three spent the rest of the dwindling day at the guild, relaxing after the panic of earlier. After games and fun with the others in the guild, they went to the town nearby to spend the night. Rallis had smuggled a few more dragonfruit to go. Midnight snacks, she said. As the night grew late and her companions fell asleep, Rallis grabbed the fruit and snuck back off to Mount Karuulm. She hopped down the elevator, up the stairs, through the northern path, and into the lair of the wingless dragon. There it was, asleep on a pile of rocks and snoring away. It snorted awake as it heard something step closer, growling at the intruder. But at the sight of Rallis, it calmed down, sleepily raising its head in hello.

"Hey there," she cooed. "You doing alright now?" It snorted. "That's good. That hurt a lot. I'm glad I could help. Here I brought you something. They're really good!" She handed the dragon a fruit. It sniffed it cautiously before taking a bite, scarfing it down in a second after the first taste. Rallis laughed. "Told you it was good!" She took a bite of her own. "What's your name?"

The beast grunted. "Arvis? Hello, Arvis! I'm Rallis. Nice to properly meet you!"

The two spent a while chatting and eating fruit before Rallis had to get going. She skipped along back to town with a hum. 'Hopefully I can get Adam and Peg to come back,' she thought. 'I want to introduce them! Not in a mean way this time!' The dragon smiled as she skipped back and slithered back into bed with a smile, happy to make a new friend.

[fluidityandgiggles]

A Magical Connection - Part 2

I’m posting this right after the first part because I CAN’T HELP MYSELF IT WAS COMPLETE LONG BEFORE I SPLIT IT UP.

Okay. That’s enough of that.

Part 1 is here!

So, part 2. This is the more... Brotzly-focused part, I think. And it’s equally as sweet as the first. So... yeah. Fun times.

And again a reminder,

The Rowdy 3 (sans Vogel), Friedkin, Todd - Slytherin

Amanda, Tina - Gryffindor

Vogel, Bart, Dirk - Hufflepuff

Mona, Farah - Ravenclaw

Tag list below. Because why not.

----------

Todd found Dirk in the Room of Requirement. They had a specific room appearing that they dubbed Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, or Project Blackwing, depending on who was in that room at the moment.

Today it was the Holistic Detective Agency, with the addition of a piano.

"He's a fool and don't I know it, but a fool can have his charms," Dirk was singing, playing the piano. And not noticing Todd at all. Great. "I'm in love and don't I show it, like a babe in arms…"

His singing was beautiful.

"Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I…" and he was done. And turned around for a second…

And was met with Todd. Staring at him in awe.

"Oh, Todd… you're here." He couldn't even look at Todd. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. I'll just… what did you want?"

"I was just… looking for you." Dirk's ears were turning red. Oh no. "You… sing."

"That I do, Todd. What's news to you?"

"No… you… you can sing. And play the piano. And…"

"Are you having a stroke, Todd? Should I take you to the hospital wing?"

"I just… I had no idea." The Slytherin sat down on a chair in front of the Hufflepuff, face going pale. "Amanda told me to… tell you. Before it's too late, and…"

"So it was Amanda?"

"Dirk, please. Please look at me." The boy sighed and looked at his – best friend? Crush? What was he now…? – still completely red. "You… are incredible."

"…you don't have to say that just because we're friends."

"Believe me, that's not why I say that. Dirk, I… like you. A lot. …by Merlin, that's a lot tougher to say than your fanfics would like to believe." Dirk gave him a signature half-smile, and things suddenly felt a lot easier. "I would… definitely love to take you with me to the Yule ball. And more than that, if given the chance."

"That's… nothing like you, Todd."

"…I may have also had Amanda help me a bit with that part." Another, now bigger smile. "She also suggested some Felix Felicis but I got away before Hugo could remind us all of –"

" – his general idea that it's placebo. Yes, I remember."

Dirk's hands were soft and warm and Todd absolutely loved holding them. And now was no different. "So… would you agree to far more than just the Yule ball?"

The kiss he got as a response was far more than he expected.

----

"Martin!" Vogel was jumping in place. He's been shaking in excitement all day. All week, actually, since the Rowdy 3 announced that they would be coming back to Hogwarts for the Yule ball as technical support, and Vogel missed his brothers.

Amanda kind of missed them too.

"Gripps! Cross! You're actually here!"

"It's good to see you, kiddo." Martin smiled wide as Cross gave Vogel a noogie and Gripps slapped him on his back. "And Drummer!"

"I missed you guys so much," Amanda said, a huge smile on her face.

"Hey…"

"Friedkin, kid," Martin called, the smile still plastered on him. "Good to see you too. Didn't think I'd actually miss you, Hufflepuff!"

"I'm not a Hufflepuff!"

"No, our darling Hugo is a manly macho Slytherin, now aren't you."

"…shut up."

"Old Man Francis is having a bit of a harder time lately, but he's doing alright." Martin swirled his wand in his hands. "So where's the others, huh?"

"Marzanna and Lamia are going to be here any minute now, and… I'm not sure about Icarus."

"Come on, Drummer –"

"I'm serious. I have no idea what he's up to."

"I wanna give my love to you all day," Hugo started singing to himself. "But sometimes I come up empty… My heart just doesn't hold charge the way it did not so long ago!"

"I wanna give you love the way you give me yours, so full and gently…"

"But my heart just isn't working right, I think it may have broke… It may have broke over the summer, when I let someone betray it…"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Incubus! You're here!" Among the crowd of students, a tall young man in a pink fur coat suddenly appeared, slowly walking towards the five-plus-one. "Why are you here?"

"Technical assistance." Cross left Vogel and went towards Dirk, his hands wide open. And Amanda didn't know whether to laugh or worry for Dirk. "The fuck are you wearing, Gently?"

"You don't like it? I think I got it from Tina Teventino a couple days ago. I can't remember. I remember we had a lot of firewhiskey that day –"

"You got this from Tina Teventino?" Yeah, now Amanda was worried.

"She's really nice, Amanda. You're just not giving her a chance. I know she uses some dubious substances, but –"

"Is this Tina's coat, Dirk?" Todd appeared behind him, looking appropriately concerned.

God bless older brothers, Amanda thought.

"I'm actually not sure. Might be."

"Never mind. You're coming?" Todd held his hand out and Dirk gladly grabbed it, turning his back to his long-time friends. "I don't think I can face this alone."

"Who knows, maybe Mona will actually scream this time."

"What?"

"Never mind, forget I said anything."

And they were lost in the crowd inside the great hall.

"Shit," Martin said a couple moments after they disappeared. "I owe Mona now. I'm… broke."

"What are you talking about?"

A shout of "Icarus gonna get the dickarus!" came from the stairs, along with a rushing hair of bright red hair and a green dress. Behind that flurry of red and green was Bart, tinsel and fairy lights in her braided hair, joyously laughing and half-dancing to the great hall. Vogel let out a loud laugh and started jumping again.

"…I don't understand." All eyes turned to Hugo. "What did she mean?"

"You're lucky you're an innocent teenager still, Hugo," Amanda laughed.

"You are too."

"Let's go dancing, shall we?"

Eagerly nodding, Amanda grabbed her best friend's hand and ran to the ball… only to catch her brother kissing his boyfriend in a far off corner.

Yeah. Maybe pairing them before Christmas was a bad idea. She should've waited at least until Valentine's day.

----------

Tag list:

@broadwaytheanimatedseries @royal-raccoon @illmamnim @smokeyrutilequartz

[lakesandquarries]

Stranger Than Earth - Chapter One

Summary: A story about found families, magic, love, evil scientists, and raccoons. Sam and Shay are twin siblings living in a shitty apartment. When they find a mysterious stranger going through their garbage, everything changes.

Notes: this is the first chapter of what is going to be a very long story. No schedule yet, but I do plan on having one. This isn’t fanfiction, it’s an original story featuring original characters, and I hope people will still read it.

On AO3

Or read under the cut!

The first thing Shay thinks when she wakes up at four in the morning to the sound of something in her trash can is, “Fucking raccoons.”

“Sam,” she says, sitting up and nudging her brother with her foot as she turns on the light. “Get up.”

“Nn,” Sam replies, rolling over so his face is swallowed by his pillow.

She nudges him again, using the sharpest part of her elbow. “Sam, get up. Or I’ll cook breakfast.”

One minute of exaggerated retching sounds later, Sam is up, rubbing his eyes and stumbling his way into a pair of pants. “You’re the worst sister, you know that right?” he mutters, shooting a fuzzy, bleary-eyed glare to the wall behind Shay. She snorts.

“Something’s in the garbage outside, and I made sure not to leave food out there, so any potential raccoons are your problem.”

“Shay,” Sam says, mouth hanging open, eyes still bleary but managing to look deeply wounded. “You would do this to me? Your own twin? You would heartlessly sacrifice me to the raccoons, without even a way to defend myself?” He places his hand on his chest, shaking his head slowly. “And here I thought you loved me.”

Shay rolls her eyes, grabbing the broom from the corner and shoving it at him. “Don’t die,” she says, pushing him towards the sliding glass door.

With a final dramatic sigh, Sam steps out onto the patio. He shuts the door behind him, luckily, but Shay can still dimly see his shape through the glass as he approaches the trash can and immediately starts smacking whatever’s inside with a broom.

Her brother is many things, but he has never claimed to be smart.

He’s dealing with it, at least, so Shay lies back down and pulls the covers over her head. She’s in that floaty space between awake and asleep when she hears Sam screech, and she’s up as fast as she can manage, pulling the patio door open before her eyes are open.

“Not a raccoon!” Sam yelps as she steps outside, rushing over and trying to hide behind her despite being half a foot taller. And indeed, Shay can see the thing in the trash, and it’s definitely not a raccoon. For one thing, raccoons don’t come in that shade of orange. For another, they don’t talk.

“Ow,” the not-raccoon says, and Shay gapes.

“Why are you in my trash can?” she blurts out, and the not-raccoon hunches their shoulders, retreats into the can a bit. Their eyes shine in the dim light. Shay rubs hers, hoping to wake back up in bed.

“Uh,” they say. “I was. Uh.” Their eyes dart around, looking at everything but Shay and Sam.

There’s some food on the ground, Shay realizes. A collection of scraps.

“Are you hungry?” Shay asks, and this time they look at her. “I can get you some food, if you want. Like, food that isn’t garbage.”

She can feel Sam’s disapproving glare, which she chooses to ignore. The person slowly climbs out of the trash can.

It’s a kid.

Okay, maybe not a kid, but there’s no way the person standing in front of her is over 18, and if she’s honest, they look closer to twelve. They’re short, really short, with a mop of fluffy orange hair and a smattering of freckles and eyes that are more gold than brown. There’s something about the eyes, something that tells her this kid is older than they seem. Those eyes aren't a child's. They're the eyes of someone that's seen something awful.

“I’m Shay, and this is Sam. What’s your name?” she asks, and the kid looks away, tugging on the sleeves of their oversized hoodie.

“Cinna,” they say quietly.

“Sam, can you go start some water for tea? And, y’know, a snack. I’m sure they’re hungry.”

“He,” Cinna says, barely audible, but Shay corrects herself regardless, even as Sam retreats inside.

“I’m sure he’s hungry,” she repeats, and Cinna looks startled. “You wanna come in?”

“What?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Inside. Where it’s warm? And we have a kitchen table you can eat at?”

“Why?” Cinna asks. It’s Shay’s turn to be confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you being all….nice?” he asks, now fidgeting with the zipper of his hoodie.

It’s…..not an unreasonable question, if Shay’s being honest. Why is she doing this? It’s four in the morning and she found this kid in her trash can. Why is she inviting him into her house?

“Sleep deprivation,” she says, and opens the sliding door. “You wanna come in or not?”

Cinna hesitates as she walks through the door, then follows after her. She shoots him a grin, leading him down the hall to the kitchen table. Sam’s already got some food started, and Shay can recognize the familiar hum of the tea kettle. Cinna’s eyes are wide as Sam cracks a couple eggs into a bowl, then shrugs and adds in all the eggs.

“Sam,” Shay starts, but he cuts her off.

“If I’m getting woken up at four am to make eggs for a raccoon, I’m making enough eggs for me to eat too,” he says, and Shay can’t really argue with that. “Grab me the cheese. The good cheese, not that garbage stuff.”

“I’m banned from the fridge, remember?” Shay says, smirking as she goes to the pantry instead, grabbing a couple bags of tea and squinting at the kid at her table.

He’d probably like cinnamon tea. She gets the tea bags and sugar and honey and focuses on making tea, rather than the cloud of worries buzzing behind her.

(What is she doing? There’s no possible way this ends with anything good, she’s lucky if this doesn’t end with her or Sam getting stabbed, why is she being such an idiot-)

The timer dings. She pours the tea into a few tea cups and brings one to Cinna, who stares at her blankly.

“It’s tea,” she informs him, then clarifies, “cinnamon tea?” when he still looks blank.

“Cinnamon,” he repeats, staring at the cup like it holds the secrets of the universe. Hell, maybe it does. It’s four am, weirder things have happened.

Shay takes a seat across from Cinna. “So, uh… Where you from?”

Cinna tenses. Shit, bad question. Shay sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Okay, different question: What were you doing in my trash can at four in the morning?”

“Looking for food,” Cinna admits, still staring intently at his tea.

God, this is awkward. Shay glances over at Sam, sending a prayer that he’ll hurry up and finish cooking, but he’s as oblivious as ever, whistling as he grates cheese. The eggs aren’t even in a pan yet.

“I’m not trying to interrogate you,” Shay says, after a minute of painful silence. “I’m just - it’s a little weird to find a kid in my garbage, y’know?”

“I’m not a kid,” Cinna mutters.

“Doesn’t make it any less weird. Hell, if I found an old man in my garbage, that’d be even worse.”

There’s a very faint noise from Cinna that might be a laugh. Shay feels like she’s just won a prize. “For real, though. I’m not gonna bite.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Cinna says.

“Then what are you worried about?”

He doesn’t reply, just takes a long, slow sip of tea.

“Everything,” he says finally.

How do you respond to that? Short answer: you don’t. Shay and Cinna spend the next few minutes in tense, awkward silence, while Sam hums and makes scrambled eggs.

Finally, finally, he finishes, bringing three plates over to the table. He winks at Cinna when he puts down his plate, then gives Shay a quick “what-the-fuck-are-you-doing” glance once Cinna’s distracted.

“So, Cinna, right?” Sam asks, shoveling eggs into his mouth. Cinna doesn’t respond, focused solely on inhaling his food as fast as is physically possible. It’s a little terrifying, if Shay’s being honest. “....Alright then,” Sam says, giving Shay a nervous side glance.

“Huh?” Cinna says, literally licking his plate.

“...Do you want more?” Sam asks. Cinna nods at first, then stops and shakes his head.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Shay pushes her plate over to him, and he looks back and forth from her to the plate, looking stricken.

“I’m not hungry. Go ahead, eat mine,” Shay says, trying for a gentle, comforting smile.

With some hesitation, Cinna does so. Sam stands up dramatically, pushing his plate towards Cinna. “Well, I think I’m done,” he announces, nudging his plate just a little closer to Cinna, who doesn’t seem to notice Sam’s dramatics. “Shay, can you help me wash the dishes?” he asks, giving her a Look.

“Sure,” Shay says. She follows Sam to the kitchen.

“Shay, what the fuck,” Sam says, turning on the sink and speaking just above a whisper.

“Uh,” Shay says.

“Seriously, Shay - What the fuck?”

“I couldn't just leave him there!” Shay whispers defensively.

“Yes you could! He's not a stray cat, Shay! He's a random kid we found in the trash! We're lucky if he doesn't steal everything we own and stab us!”

He's not saying anything Shay hasn't already thought, but somehow it's much more annoying said by him.

“He's like, four feet tall. I've seen dogs scarier than that kid. Tiny dogs.”

“Tiny dogs are the most vicious,” Sam says. Shay sighs.

“Look, you're right, okay? I just - felt bad for him. And I really don't think he's gonna try anything. He-” there’s a crashing sound from the living room.

“You were saying?” Sam says, raising an eyebrow, and Shay just gives him an annoyed huff before rushing to check the damage.

Except….there isn't any. The plates on the table are empty but unbroken, the chairs out of place but intact, even the tablecloth is fine.

The sliding door, however, is wide open, and an outside chair's been knocked over. There's no sign of Cinna.

“You were saying?” Shay says to Sam, leaving him on the patio to stare at the single footprint that’s the only remnant of their mysterious guest.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Addewid

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Kai (Jongin)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 5,137

Summary: “You cannot appeal to my better nature, for I have none. I am not human, little one.”

You’ve always known you were different. You’re able to see them, after all, able to see the Others. You’ve also always ignored them. Until the day comes where you’re forced to make a choice - one that throws your world into chaos. And sends you down a path you might never return from.

I - The Promise

Most people grow up thinking they’re different. One of humanity’s greatest fallacies is that each person believes himself an outsider when the truth is, each man is an island. Each man is alone. Each man is different and so, every man is the same.

Except for me.

I’m different because I see them. Everyone in my family can – so really, just my dad and I. We’ve lived our whole lives this way, isolating ourselves in the city because of it. We surround ourselves with the hum of iron and rust and steel. Though these might not kill them, the others fear them. Manmade technology depletes their power and without their magic, they’re little more than human.

When I was younger I saw them more often. Maybe because I was curious, maybe because there were more of them back then – I’m not sure. Even in the city they found me, waving in the park or sliding through water beneath my feet. Nature can be found anywhere, even when man begs it not to be. 

The Fey were never threatening, despite the fact that I could see them. Mostly they kept to their side of things, displaying little desire to entangle in our mundane human lives. 

I don’t know whether this was out of self-preservation or not. Perhaps they saw us so far beneath them, we weren’t worth their time. It’d be like if I saw a nest of ants off the sidewalk. I could go out of my way to step on them – but why would I? The fey are much the same, keeping to themselves and pretending we don’t exist. Much as I pretend I can’t see them.

It’s easier this way. This way, I don’t let things slip. People tend to react poorly when one sees things they can’t. It only takes a few instances of being called crazy before you learn to blend in. One can convince oneself of anything, if one tires hard enough. It soon became second nature to assume the whispering shadows were the wind. To think the buzz of wings was hummingbirds and the eyes beneath the overpass were raccoons.

I’ve gotten fairly good at pretending. Most children play make-believe. Mmost children think they see monsters. I’m no different. I’m not special.

It’s strange how this phrase which seems to terrify most has become my mantra.

Still, despite this, I know they’re there. They appear when I let my guard down, just when I think I’m safe. It’s like they have a radar, as though they don’t want me to forget them.

The past year has gotten worse. Ever since my father moved us out of the city and into this boondock town of Point Park. A nondescript name for a nondescript place. Dad says it’s for research purposes but honestly, any research having to do with his latest project I don’t want to know about.

My father is a professor, a man of arts and humanities. It’s hard for anyone like us to be scientists, since we’re burdened with the knowledge that those truly fantastical elements of myth and lore are real. They exist, they’re real and it’s maddening to argue otherwise.

Some have gone mad. Like my uncle. His death certificate reads drowning but my dad and I know better. He could swim, was on the swim team all through high school. No, his death was textbook will ‘o’ the wisp. The fact that he let himself be led astray meant he was long gone by the time that fairy found him.

My mother left when she found out.

Before I was born my dad covered his gifts fairly well. He was social, able to play off of most of his unusual circumstances as larks. Pranks. Whimsical stories from his childhood, research for his next book.

Once I started to see the creatures too, my mother grew wary. She began to watch. And when she finally understood her daughter was entrenched in the same maddening world as her husband, she grasped the truth of things: we were crazy.

And so she left, not caring if I succumbed to my madness or not. Not caring that when I woke in the middle of the night, screaming her name, there would be no one there. It explains why I’m so close to my dad. He’s been the only one to care for me, the only one who ever understood. 

“Morning, sweetie.”

The smell of pancakes greets me as I enter the kitchen, accompanied by the sizzling sounds of bacon. My dad faces away, flipping stacks over one at a time on the stove.

“Morning.” I pull out a chair, dumping my backpack on the ground. “Pancakes?”

“And bacon.” He flips the pan. “For energy. Can’t have you falling asleep in class.”

“Right. However would Finance 101 survive?”

Finance 101, the bane of my existence. Currently I’m enrolled at the local community college, taking classes while helping out my dad’s bookstore. The classes are boring and teachers not worth their salt – but my dad absolutely refuses to let me help full-time without a college degree.

Turning from the stove, he dumps a stack of pancakes onto my plate. “Eat up, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” I grumble as I tie a napkin around my neck. “See, look! I tied the napkin myself this time.”

“At this rate you’ll be tying your shoes by end of next week!”

“From your mouth to God’s ears.” I shovel a large bite of pancake into my mouth. “Oh my god. This is so good.”

Taking his usual seat, my dad cuts off a smaller piece. “Wow. Am I an excellent cook or what?”

“Or what.”

He snorts, prompting laughter from my end of the table. My dad is young compared to most parents of kids my age. So was my mom. Which is why my dad often says her leaving was inevitable. She was young, flighty and not ready for kids. That’s a much easier explanation than, we’re freaks and she hated that.

I let my fork clatter to the table. “You need to stop feeding me like this. I’ll be ten thousand pounds and then I’ll never learn to tie my shoes.”

“Run around the block a few times, you’ll live.”

His words prompt me to glance out the window, something I immediately wish I hadn’t. As soon as I look, something small and agile darts out of sight. Small, agile – and electric blue. The kind of color not easily found in nature. I look back. My dad is still eating happily, not having noticed. This kind of thing has been happening more and more lately, ever since we moved. Ever since my dad’s latest project.

From the start I told him it was an awful idea. A complete anthology of the Fey people: stories, legends, facts and figures. For most people the book is a fantasy, one of those odd compilations of Faery and myth. 

Most people would be wrong. Dad’s idea is to make the first true anthology of the Fey. All he sees and knows will be immortalized in print. Which to me, sounds like a terrible idea. Better not to draw attention, better to stay firmly entrenched in the human world. The Other is dangerous; a place where dreams tinge reality and nightmares garnish both.

My dad stands, draining the last of his coffee. “I’ll be closing late tonight.”

“Oh, really?” I grab his plate before he can, moving both towards the sink.

“More work.” He sounds excited at the thought. “So many things I’m discovering, Y/N.”

“Like?”

“Like how upper levels of Fey use deals as currency.” Though I can’t see him, I know his eyes are shining the way they do whenever he talks about the Fey. “There’s money, sure but a promise is considered more valuable. They call it Addewid and it’s unbreakable. In some courts a Knight can only trade on promises. He actually cannot break his word. Wild, right?”

I shove open the dishwasher. “Wild, right. Why do I care?”

“Great question!” My dad, ever the professor, dips into his lecture voice as I try not to roll my eyes. “Imagine you’re walking and you come across a broken bridge. A fairy says he’ll take you across – what do you do?”

“Turn around and go home.”

He snorts. “Or you could offer them something. An answer to a question, perhaps. A name. Something in return for your safe passage over the river.”

I pause, considering before turning to cross my arms. “What about once you get to the other side? You just offered a hobgoblin the name of your firstborn and suddenly you have no guarantee of your safety after.”

My dad purses his lips. “See, this is why I say you’re the smartest in the family. It’s not to hype your ego, you need none of that.”

I smile, leaning on the kitchen counter. “No, dad. I’m just a realist who doesn’t mess with the Fey.”

“Like I said, smarter than I am. And before you ask – no, that doesn’t mean I’ll stop.”

“But why?” I laugh despite myself. “The Fey have only brought pain. It’s dangerous what you’re doing and I just don’t understand why you’d provoke them ”

“Because.” My dad is silent and I think maybe he’s forgotten the question until his bespectacled eyes meet mine. “I feel something is brewing, Y/N.” At his words, a chill travels my spine. “Something big. And if something were to ever happen, I’d like to think you had a fighting chance.”

His words give me pause. The steady drip of water the only noise in otherwise silence. But it’s more than just that – there’s a pause in the air, one I’ve been trying to ignore for a while now. It’s as though the world is holding its breath, waiting. My dad’s words push this into view, making it obvious. I’ve been shoving things aside for so long it’s hard to open up again. Hard to see again.

But for just a second, I do. And it terrifies me.

Then I blink, and the moment is gone. “You’re being dramatic,” I say, attempting a smile as I grab coffee and silverware from the table. “The Fey exist but they don’t bother us. There’s no reason to pretend otherwise.”

“Maybe.” 

He looks like he wants to say more but he doesn’t and I shut the dishwasher with a snap. “What time will you be done tonight?”

Living in the middle of nowhere means we only have one car. It’s not like there’s anywhere I need to go anyways. Every morning I drop off my dad at wrok and every night I hang at his bookstore until it’s time to go home. I don’t really have outside friends and there’s no other family nearby.

“Mm. Ten.”

“Dad!”

“Fine, 9:30.”

I groan but don’t argue. Getting my dad to agree to earlier would be a miracle in itself. He’s single-minded, oftentimes to his own detriment. Much like someone else in our family – cough, cough.

“Okay, 9:30.”

“Thanks kid-o, you’re the best.” Kissing my brow, my dad ignores my fake shudder. “To the shop?”

As we leave, I tug my ball cap lower. My dad likes to joke that I often dress like an eighteen year old boy. If said boy were a bit gothic and into sports. Take today’s outfit: black hoodie, leather jacket, skinny jeans and boots, all topped with a black baseball hat. There’s a pink key ring on my belt though. Can’t be too monochromatic.

It doesn’t faze my dad at this point. “Hope the classroom isn’t too hot,” is all he says as he walks past. I scowl, my not-so-subtle attempt at intimidation. My dad just grins – he’s used to all my tricks by now. 

He always jokes that it would take a much braver man than most to approach me. I’m never that amused by this, since so far I’ve had zero luck in romantic interests. No one has caught my fancy, turned my head, left me wanting.

It’s enough to make me wonder if there’s something’s wrong with me.

“Ah, don’t worry.” My dad brushes aside my concern whenever I bring it up. “There wasn’t another woman in the world for your grandpa. Even before they met, he knew he was waiting for someone. You’re the same.”

Of course now we live in the middle of nowhere. It seems unlikely I’ll find this mysterious someone here in Point Park.

Our car’s engine thrums to life beneath me as my dad continues to talk, rambling about something else in his research. I’m distracted by movement at the corner of my eye and against all better judgment, I look. Just the barest of shadow, something tall and thin slipping into the forest.

“Y/N!”

Sometime in the past few seconds, I stepped on the gas. My dad yells, leaping forward to pull the key from the ignition. I yank my foot from the pedal, though it doesn’t matter much by this point. We’ve rolled to stop an inch from our house, my father breathing hard in the passenger’s seat.

He straightens, glaring over the top of his glasses. “What was that!”

Rather than answer, my gaze moves to the forest. There’s nothing there. No shadow, nor shadow-like object. Just the large, empty swath of trees. Something my dad thought would be a good thing when we bought this house. Isolation has always boded well for us. Now I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps this was the wrong way to think about things.

“I’m so sorry,” I mumble, blinking at my dad with puppy-dog eyes.

He sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Well, that’s one way to wake up I guess.”

“Tomorrow I won’t skip the coffee,” I promise, sliding the car into reverse. Slinging one arm over the backseat to pull from the driveway. As we round a corner, I take one last look towards the edge of our property. Nothing.

The rest of the drive passes uneventfully, much like the rest of my day. My classes are long and boring. The other students there are only half present, going through motions of taking notes while really considering what color to dye their hair next. What text to send to that boy they kissed that one time at that one bar. What outfit to wear to their next, boring class.

Small surprise I talk to no one. More accurately – no one talks to me. I’m that weird girl, that maybe-mute girl, that she-would-be-hot-if-she-weren’t-so-terrifying girl. All of these are things I’ve overheard about myself.

To the guy who said that last comment, I didn’t respond – just bared my teeth. He left, unsurprisingly. These are the things that make my dad say I’m anti-social. Grinning, I duck my head and stand from my table. There’s a slight overhang, so the ducking of my head part is necessary. Even at my height, perpetually short.

It’s raining as I drive to the bookstore, a slow mist that turns to raindrops the closer I get. I squint through the deluge, slowing so that my headlights cut through the fog. “Just a little bit… further.”

I scream when something large and heavy thwacks my windshield. Seeing that it’s just a branch I clutch at my heart, breathing hard as I allow my pulse to settle. Nervous laughter leaves my lips as I turn the radio up. 

There’s nothing to be afraid of. Nothing.

Still, I walk a little faster entering the store. I feel as though there are eyes watching, which is probably just my imagination but by the time I’m at the door I’m borderline running. My dad jumps as I enter, slamming the glass door behind me.

“Y/N!” He eases from behind the counter. “What’s wrong?”

Pushing my sopping hair back, I peer into the gloom. “Nothing.” I sigh shrugging free from my jacket. “Just spooked.”

“Mm.” My dad looks past to the unleashing monsoon. “Understandable. It looks like the wrath of Maeve herself out there.”

“Not funny,” I scold, collapsing into my usual chair. “Though shalt not speak her name in vain.”

“Too true. She’s not one to be trifled with.”

I stare at the open page of my calculus book, trying to think of something besides Maeve. The eternal dark Queen of Faery, who rules over the Unseelie court. I’ve never seen her. If I had, I’d be dead – at least, that’s what the rumors say.

I’ve actually never seen a noble fairy at all.

The noble Fey are the ones my father spoke of at breakfast. They’re the ones dealing in trades and promises, the ones that look most like us. The only Fey I’ve seen are animalistic beasts, answering to various factions of Seelie and Unseelie Lords. 

Pixies are the most familiar looking. Sprightly, small and if you look too closely, they’re blurred around the edges. It’s because they’re made of light - but don’t let that fool you, they’re devilishly tricky. Pixies are just as likely to lead you astray as not. If it wasn’t a will ‘o’ the wisp that killed my uncle, it was definitely a pixie.

Will ‘o’ the wisps are funnier-looking. Like little old men, or what some people think of as trolls. Tree stumps come to life, which is what I thought they looked like when I was little. Their skin is bark, all leathery and wrinkled with tan-colored moss. They’re mean as hell. Pixies at least have their good days but will ‘o’ the wisps lumber about, beckoning weary travelers onward.

Until they step off a cliff. And then that’s that.

All of this is pittance though, compared to Maeve. Her legend precedes her in hushed tones. As opposed to the King and Queen of Seelie, the rulers of the Summer Court - Maeve rules her lands with darkness and ice. Her court is friendly to neither Fey nor Mankind. The Unseelie is the stuff of nightmares, reigned by things that go bump in the night.

Legend has it Maeve’s ire can be called just from speaking her name out loud. My dad dismissed this in his research though, calling it an actual superstition. Still, one can never be too careful.

I resume reading, curled up in my chair as rain pelts our windows. The light fades as sun sinks below the horizon and soon the shop is a lone oasis of warmth in the dark. Around nine, I set my homework aside. “I need a new book.”

My dad doesn’t look up, giving a quick thumbs up and a wave. I weave towards the back of the shop, hands trailing over titles. Leather bound, paper bound, hard cover, soft cover. One of the best parts of moving to this nowhere town is that we currently hold the monopoly on books.

In the city everyone buys from Amazon or Barnes and Noble but out here there’s no guarantee anything will arrive before next month. Or that you’ll even get the right thing when it does. Mailmen are easily confused by the winding roads and unnamed streets. As a result, Dad’s bookstore has held fairly steady business ever since our arrival.

I’m reading the dust jacket of a morose-looking fiction when the lights go out.

“Fuck,” I sigh. At least it’s not completely dark – the lights from the street are still on, filtering through the rain and windowpanes. “Dad?” I retrace my steps. “Dad, where’s the generator?”

When I reach the front of the shop, my feet freeze in place. One emergency light flickers over my dad, casting his profile in shadow. All I can see from here is the overly stern set of his mouth.

“Daughter.” His voice is calm, firm. “Get out.” He doesn’t meet my eyes, too engrossed by whatever’s at our threshold. 

Before I can move the thing steps inside, shutting the door softly. The motion is menacing without meaning to be, terrifying in its casualness. His features aren’t visible, but there’s something ethereal in the way he moves. Ghostly, regal, without a sound.

When he steps into the light, I choke back my gasp.

His eyes sweep over me. Cold, dark, calculating. One could lose themselves in those eyes. A chill creeps down my spine as I consider the notion that people likely have. That’s not the most terrifying part, though. The long ears just visible through silvery hair are pointed. 

He’s Fey. Of a kind I’ve never seen before.

The stranger is dressed all in black, his clothing a weird mix of formal and armor. A sword hangs from his hip, sharp and wicked looking in the twilight. Around his neck gleams a smooth, silver collar. Metal, from the looks of it.

The stranger smiles, though the rest of his face doesn’t move. “James Tyson?”

“That’s me.” 

I have to give it to my father, he doesn’t flinch. Instead he stands tall, determined not to show weakness. Beneath the counter his hands tremble, though. I watch his fingers twitch towards the phone.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The thing tilts its head, looking more Fey than before. “The power is out. There’s been a sudden cold snap and your lines have frozen over.” With a flick of his wrist, ice encrusts our doorknob.

My father sucks in a breath, wonder obvious. I want to strangle him for that look. He needs to get a grip. This is our time to escape, not gape in awe at some pretty demon.

The thing faces me. ���This one has violence in her,” he comments, tilting it’s head. “Interesting.”

My gaze narrows. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me, as though I’m a snack or a toy and he hasn’t yet decided which. “Why are you here?”

“Questions, from a human.” The stranger’s lip twitches, amused. “I have a few questions of my own. For him.” 

“Then ask them of me.” My father’s face remains calm though beneath the counter his fingers move. I realize he’s tracing something - over and over again, though I can’t make out what.

“Why did you speak Maeve’s name?”

My father stiffens, clearly not expecting that. “H–how did you know?”

The thing smiles. “It seems you’ve gotten quite a few things wrong in that anthology of yours.”

“You know?” My father’s eyes widen. “About my anthology?”

“Yes.” His lip curls. “Detestable piece of rubbish it is.”

Without quite meaning to, I laugh. “Except it’s not, is it?” As soon as the words escape my mouth, I wince. The stranger turns, disdain evident on his beautiful face. His incredibly lovely, heart-breakingly beautiful face.

The fairy tilts its head. “Pardon?”

My father closes his eyes when I take a shaky step forward. His fingers resume tracing with greater urgency but I ignore him, focusing instead on this creature. I can distract him long enough for my dad run, long enough for him to get away.

“If my dad’s book is so rubbish,” I say, lifting my chin. “Then why are you here?”

The fairy blinks. “It would seem as though you are the more intelligent of the two.”

Recognizing my father’s words, I recoil. “Have you been… spying on us?”

“Spying?” The thing’s hand comes to rest on the pommel of his sword. “I would be quiet, little one. My orders are not to take you away.”

That’s the moment when I realize what my dad has been tracing. Over and over on the counter.

Run. Run, run, run, run, run, run.

For a moment, I consider. For just a second, cowardice wins and I want nothing more than to be at home – safe and hidden by blankets and denial. Then I come to. What home? Without my father, I have nothing.

My father sighs, recognizing my expression. It’s the expression I get when I’ve decided not to listen to a word he says. 

“So you’ve come to take me away?” My father’s face is that of a man struggling to remain calm while his world crashes down around him.

“Yes.”

“You’ve come to take only me away.”

“Yes.” The stranger nods. “Those are my orders.”

“But why?” Two pairs of eyes turn, as I’m unable to keep my mouth shut. “You just said yourself – my dad’s anthology is the problem. Why can’t he just stop writing and you leave us alone?”

“I’m afraid that won’t do.” Strangely enough, there’s a glimmer of sincerity in the thing’s eyes. “Your father knows things that cannot be divulged.”

“Then make him forget!” I snap. “Take the book! Take his memories but please,” my voice breaks on the word. “Don’t take my father. He’s all I have.”

There’s a long beat of silence before he speaks again. 

“What do I care what you have and have not?” The thing’s voice is soft, unyielding. He walks forward and his stride brings him close enough to touch – close enough to see every eyelash on his skin, the midnight black of his irises. “You cannot appeal to my better nature, for I have none. I am not human, little one.”

His stare bores into mine and it’s all I can do to keep from flinching.

“Enough.” My dad steps from behind the counter. “I will go with you, so long as you promise to leave my daughter unharmed.”

The male lifts his gaze. “Hm. And what would you offer in exchange for this promise?”

My eyes dart to my father’s. No – he can’t do this. He can’t leave me.

“My anthology.” My father shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I will give my anthology, follow you and never return. For the rest of my days, I will reside in Faery and not try to escape. What I have learned will die with me.”

A smile curves the thing’s lips. “It seems we have reached an accord.”

“No!” Before I know what I’m doing, I’m between them. “Please no,” I gasp, a hiccup forced from my throat.

My father turns to me and strangely enough, the stranger lets him. He does nothing to intervene when my father embraces me. “I love you,” my dad whispers. “Please stay safe.” Then he pulls away.

I nod, tears finally spilling down my cheeks. As much as I want to hear him say my name, want to hear him say goodbye – I know he’s only doing this for my protection. The fairy doesn’t yet know my name, which means I can still escape. I can still be free.

The stranger steps aside as my father passes. At the door of our shop he stops, hovering a moment before turning to face me. “Goodnight, nameless daughter.” His gaze is dark, unfathomable as he leaves.

I watch them go, watch my father disappear into the night. His body is so small and pale. I imagine what the rest of his life will be like as a prisoner of Faery. Living amongst strangers and terrors until one day he eventually dies of old age. Unless of course something kills him first.

My chest constricts and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve stumbled forward. “Wait!” 

Slowly, the fairy stops. 

My voice drops to a whisper. “You like making deals?” I watch him exhale, slowly. 

“What do you want from me, little human?” Though he doesn’t move, I hear each word with perfect clarity. “I’ve already spared your life once today.”

“Take me instead.”

At this, his body stills. “What?”

It’s the first time it’s sounded unsure of anything, so I press on. “Take me in his place,” I say, staring at his motionless back. “Release him and take me, under the same terms.”

A long silence follows. 

“Now why would I do that?”

“Because.” I steel myself for this next part, closing my eyes. “If you take me, you’ll have collateral. With me, you can be sure my father won’t tell. Whereas if you leave now, I’ll continue where he left off. I won’t stop until I discover every Fey secret. Until you’re all dead and my father returns.”

At last, the thing turns. Silence falls, heavy between us. And then the fairy laughs, a soft noise that stirs the base of my spine. My father’s arm falls from his grasp. “And if I say no?” His eyes glimmer. “I could kill you and take your father to Maeve anyways. What’s to stop me from doing that?”

Though his words give me pause, my gaze remains steady. “You won’t.”

“Won’t I?”

“No.“ I stare back at him. 

As he holds my gaze, something in his expression changes. I could be imagining things, but something almost delicate crosses his face. It disappears quickly though, leaving him as cold and distant as before. 

He raises his chin. “We have a deal.”

“We – do?”

The stranger smiles, bowing in a low, sweeping gesture. “I, Prince Kai of the Unseelie Court, accept your terms.” 

At his words, a shiver crosses my spine. One that has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the ancient bond that has just settled into place. Addewid.  

Prince Kai nods, satisfied. “It is done.” 

When his hand closes around my wrist, I flinch. Only because of the cold though – his touch is surprisingly gentle. Behind him, my father sags against the door.

“You can’t.” He stares in horror. “What of our deal, fairy? What honor do you –?”

Kai whirls, gaze like ice as my father is dragged across the room. “Do not question my honor, human.” His whisper is somehow more terrifying than if he’d yelled. Kai examines my father hanging from the edge of his fingertip. “I’ve made a deal with your daughter. Do you wish me to renege upon my word?”

My father draws a deep, shuddering breath. “No.” The word comes out defeated and for just a second, I wonder if I’ve doomed him more than saved him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so, so sorry.”

My dad makes eye contact with me, shaking his head. “It’s not your fault.” He attempts to reach for my hand but I’m already being led away.

“Walk,” Kai commands, turning.  

I obey. Refuse to look back for fear I won’t leave. The door shuts behind us, stifling the sounds of the shop inside. The night air is cold, unusually so. Typically even in winter, there’s life. Birds calling, animals moving, insects rustling.

This though… this is the absence of anything familiar.

My gaze falls on the silent fairy next to me, wondering whom exactly I’ve made a deal with.

As we step into the forest, shadows wrap themselves around us like branches and my breath catches. The enormity of what I’ve done crashes over me and I find it hard to stand.

I’ve just sold myself to the Unseelie court.

There’s not much time to think about this though, as the land of nightmares swallows me whole.    

[Master List]

Author’s Note: So this was pretty long, huh? Sorry! Haha I just wanted to take a moment to explain the title. Addewid means Promise in Welsh. A lot of Fairy folklore is from Ireland, Wales and England, so some of the words in Faery reflect that. Anyways, I’m very excited about this. Can’t wait to update more :)  

Playlist: Monster (Instrumental), EXO / Frozen Oceans, Shiny Toy Guns / Gravity, Sara Barellies / Three Wishes, The Pierces / I Of The Storm, Of Monsters and Men / Fantasy (Instrumental), VIXX