#want to make her colour green but she just looks. ill and/or covered in moss

[mrspasser]

The job agency

Stiles works at Rainbow Recruit, a job placement agency specifically founded to help people who are having trouble finding employment due to supernatural interference in their lives. Derek is an Alpha werewolf in need of a job.

Stiles waves the woman to the seat in front of his desk. “Hi! Welcome to Rainbow Recruit!” He puts on his most welcoming smile, wanting to put her at ease quickly. She is about his father’s age, with sandy coloured hair and lipstick that’s just a tad too much on the orange side. The woman gingerly takes a seat and smooths her skirt out with her hands. The two piece suit is a little outdated, she might need to go shopping before her first job interview; preferably for something that isn’t moss green. Stiles might wonder about his updated sense of fashion if the explanation wasn’t sitting in the glass walled office in the back. Working with Lydia for the past four years has left its marks.

He adjusts his keyboard a bit and sends the woman another broad smile. People always say he has a nice smile and he tends to use it. “Well, let’s get started with the basics, shall we?” He nods towards the computer screen that has a new file open, ready for him to fill in all the blanks. “I’m Stiles. What’s your name?”

The woman shifts uncomfortably in her chair, her hand fumbling with her necklace. “Uhm… my name…” she hesitates. 

“Yeah…?” Stiles lifts his eyebrows incredulously. It feels a bit rude to point out that a name is probably the least invasive information he’s gonna need of her. She’ll need to tell him her date of birth, for one thing. And if he can find her employment, he’ll need her social security number too. Both are things that people have lied about to him before. 

“My friends call me Jo,” the woman eventually says. She seems nervous, staring at Stiles as if she expects him to make a grab for her. 

Understanding dawns at him and he puts down ‘Jo’ in the box for her name. They’ll get to her full name later, if his hunch is correct. And it is, when he comes to the part where they discuss her previous job experiences. 

“I’ve been held captive in a fairy mound for the past seven years, so not only is there a gap in my resume but my coding knowledge is way out of date. I used to program in C, they’re all working in C++ now!”

“We have refreshment courses for that,” Stiles tells her, chipper. “And I’m sure we can dress that seven year gap up a little. Family care, perhaps?” The woman happens to have a sister who has a history of chronic illness, which works out perfectly. The longer they talk, the more at ease the woman gets. He sets her up for a refresher course in C++ that starts next week and before she leaves she even lets him put down her full name. After being kidnapped by the fae it’s more than understandable she’s cautious in giving out her real name. 

She’s not the first person to walk into Rainbow Recruit that has spent some years with the fae. Stiles once had to find an attractive solution to cover a fourteen year gap. Most people don’t stay any longer than seven years, but this guy had enjoyed himself. It’s alright though, in his four years at Rainbow Recruit Stiles has seen weirder things. Like the man who found himself under a curse of the local bog witch and could only work night hours. When the sun rose he turned into an alligator. Stiles found him a job as a night guard in a museum and Lydia gave him some tips to help settle his debt to the bog witch. That wasn’t even the weirdest case that came across Stiles’ desk. Last year there was a literal Adonis of a man, who turned out to be a statue brought to life. He was great to look at - which Stiles enjoyed, at his leisure - but about as dumb as a brick. The guy had no idea what a job was, but was told he needed one. Stiles suspected that the person who brought him to life wanted him out of the house for a few hours a day at least. Luckily the art school nearby was looking for models. They later emailed to tell him they were super pleased with Adonis, because he could sit still for hours without complaint. 

It’s one of the success stories of Rainbow Recruit, a job placement agency specifically founded to help people who are having trouble finding employment due to supernatural interference in their lives. Of course they have their regular clients too, people who are looking for a career change, moms who want to get back into the field now their kids are in school, high school dropouts who need help finding a job that requires minimal experience but has enough perspective to help them grow. Those clients are a cover for the supernatural side of business, which takes up about seventy percent of their revenue. Lydia is a champ at getting the word out in the right places, advertising their business publicly while still staying under the radar. After all, most of the world has no idea that the supernatural creatures they see in movies actually exist.

Stiles likes his job. He likes to think he is good at it and it certainly doesn’t hurt that he works with his friends. Lydia runs the place and Scott is a recruitment agent like him. If things ever get slow during the day, Stiles can always find entertainment in watching Scott trip over his feet in his attempts to make a good impression on Allison, the Disney princess come to life that runs their front desk. She has all the right characteristics for that title: the long, shiny, dark curls, the large eyes with the fluttering long lashes, the dimples in her unblemished cheeks. Truly, she’s like Snowwhite, if Snowwhite killed the Hunter and stole his bow and arrows. Scott is lucky he is so adorable. Stiles is pretty sure Allison would kill him otherwise, especially after that time he tripped and spilled his ice coffee all over her pristinely white blouse. Lydia saved his ass by taking Allison for an early lunch plus shopping trip, all on Scott’s expense of course. 

Of course, every job has its downsides. Stiles is still a bit peeved about Lydia’s veto of him keeping bobble heads on his desk and on casual friday he still has to wear a button down shirt. He can wear it on chinos instead of black or navy blue slacks, and Lydia forgives him for wearing sneakers as long as they’re clean, whole and don’t clash with his outfit. And then there’s Derek. Stiles has to resist the urge to groan whenever he sees the werewolf step through the door. The guy is single handedly responsible for Stiles having a lower success rate than Scott. He’s impossible to get a job for. Not that he actively sabotages the job opportunities that Stiles lines up for him, the guy just has the worst luck ever. That, and his face is stuck in a permanent scowl. It’s a good face, Stiles likes it even better than Adonis’, but he’s not sure there is any way to ever turn the guy’s frown upside down. 

They quickly discovered jobs in the customer service domain were not Derek’s forte. He has little patience for complaints; part of the whole werewolf thing, they do tend to have a bit of a temper. The hospitality service is not for him either, again because of his inability to be polite. Or, to be fair, Stiles knows Derek isn’t truly impolite, he just has some trouble delivering sentences in the right tone of voice. Again, the scowl doesn’t help. And then there’s his bad luck. The first job Stiles sent him to, had him work as an administrative assistant for the CFO of a company that produces weapons for the military. A high profile job of the likes that doesn't come across Stiles’ desk very often, but Derek has a college degree and seemed like the right man for the job. The werewolf promptly - and accidently - uncovered some huge scam the woman was running, which led to her freaking out and kidnapping Derek, chaining him up in some underground basement and torturing him with elektro shocks. She even licked his abs, allegedly. It was a whole legal mess. They were lucky Derek is a werewolf, so he recovered quickly from his wounds. Stiles isn’t too sure about the psychological damage, though. Still, he would have thought it would send Derek running for the hills, giving up on ever finding a job, but the guy keeps coming back. Every few weeks he’s back in the chair in front of Stiles’ desk, scowling as if he could make a job out of it. If only he could.

Being a werewolf means your job has to be flexible when it comes to the hours. No matter how good the control of the werewolf in question, they all need some days off around the full moon. Working with animals is often a no go, because most animals tend to react badly to an apex predator in their vicinity. Derek has the looks of an underwear model and Stiles would be happy to set him up with a modelling gig, if it were not for the way his eyes ruin every photo. Stiles knows. Derek’s file has a picture of him with his eyes closed, face turned impassively in the direction of the camera. It’s such a dorky picture, Stiles secretly loves it. And because Derek has been walking in and out of Rainbow Recruit for the better part of year now, Stiles knows the guy has a softer side hidden beneath his prickly exterior. He’s not a man of many words, but he always asks how the sheriff is doing. The two men know each other because of another case of Derek’s unbelievable bad luck. His sister, his last living relative, was killed and Derek was left to deal with the grief on top of having to adjust to his newly gained Alpha powers. It made him forget about the difference between human and werewolf customs, which was why he was picked up as a murder suspect when he had just been trying to bury his sister in the way that his family had practiced for generations. Derek was exonerated, he got himself a small pack and he and the sheriff greeted each other on the street nowadays. 

Stiles knows Derek’s pack too. There’s Boyd, who works at the ice skating rink. That was none of Stiles’ doing, he already had that job before Derek bit him and added him to his pack. Rainbow Recruit did arrange a county groundskeeper job for Isaac, and a job at the local beauty parlour for Erica, the only girl in the small pack. He thinks she and Boyd are dating, though he isn’t sure, with the way Erica aggressively uses her femme fatale looks to make Stiles blush each time she comes by the office. She’s actually more scary than her Alpha.

Said Alpha walks in early Thursday morning, when Stiles is just making himself a coffee in the little kitchenette in the back corner. They have a fancy coffee machine that wouldn’t sit out of place in a hipster café, yet Stiles only knows how to make two kinds of coffee with it. The kitchen corner is decorated with red and pink garlands in the shape of hearts, in honour of the upcoming Hallmark holiday. Stiles doesn’t care much for Valentine’s day, but he is all for the bowls of candy hearts that Allison put on every desk. “For the clients, Stiles,” she warned him, futilely if he might add. 

Derek stops a good distance away from Allison’s desk, his eyes trained on Stiles in the back. He lifts a hand when Stiles spots him, ignoring their receptionist completely. It’s fine, Allison assured Stiles multiple times she understands why Derek isn’t comfortable with her, even though she hadn’t seen her aunt in years before the woman went mental and kidnapped and tortured Derek. 

“Good morning, Derek!” Stiles greets without raising his voice. The werewolf can hear him just fine, even if he’d whisper. Stiles learned that the hard way, through some embarrassing instances that Derek graciously doesn’t hold against him. “Go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be right with you. Coffee?”

The werewolf nods once in reply and starts for Stiles’ desk. Stiles finishes making his own cappuccino and starts on Derek’s americano. He always drinks it all black, like the glutton for punishment he is.

This story continues on A03!

This story was inspired by this Tumblr post by @leeshajoy​

[hit-me-with-a-ladle]

Ch. 6 Creepypasta x fem!reader

Hey, guys hope you're liking the chapters, now I'm sorry I didn't post the chapter yesterday my computer was malfunctioning and I had to fix it. But now we're all good and I can be more consistent. I also turned my comments on so I hope that you'll tell me what you liked and disliked about the story. But without further ado enjoy<3.

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A week had passed since the girl started training, and she could feel herself improve as the days progressed. Jack, at first, was ruthless towards her, but he calmed down and at least waited for her when she was struggling to walk back to the cabin. She also had a strict workout regiment made by him. He acted as a personal trainer of sorts as she had to use heavy objects as weights and was made to sprint around the forest to build up stamina and muscle to improve her strength. But when the week had ended, so had Jacks' first shift to train her, and now it was Maskys turn.

The cold Monday air hit her face when she woke up. Feel her eyelids becoming heavy she wanted to go back to bed but stopped herself. Jack had warned her that Masky hated tardiness and that he expected her to be ready by 7:30 AM. So the girl had set the red alarm clock that laid on the small desk next to her bed to ring at 6:45 AM. Lazily getting out of bed, she neared the closet, getting a set of clean clothes( Her closet had been updated, with more essential clothes, like underwear and socks). Then headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Slackly scrubbing her body under the look worm pellets of shower water that quickly streamed down her bare body, she remembered her first few interactions with Masky, like when he attacked her that cursed night. She could recall his rude and disrespectful behaviour towards her, and if she was honest, she didn't regret stabbing him in the leg with her kitchen knife. An irate expression then fell upon her face as she cursed him and all the others under her breath. Because of them, she was in this hell hole, she hated it. She just wanted to be home. But she was also mad at herself for not taking more initiative and trying to make an actual escape plan.

' Do I have Stockholm syndrome or something?' She questioned herself as she started to feel her eyes water, but immediately pulled back those tears, not wanting her eye to puffen. She'd already been showering for over fifteen minutes without noticing. Not wanting to waste even more time she got out of the shower and dressed she quickly walked to her room to check the time. She had 15 minutes to eat before her training started.

Running downstairs, she instantly started making something to eat as she turned around and was about to head in the direction of the dining table. And in the heat of the moment, she had harshly bumped into something making her drop the large white plate of food she'd been carrying. A loud bang of porcelain contacting the hard wooden floor rung through her ears as she angrily looked up to see what the hell was in the way. Though her features instantly softened when she realised it was Masky towering over her. His white mask was even creepier up close. It looked old and worn out, it also had some red discolouration on the lower half of it with some minor erring at the sides. His demeanour seemed stiff as a deep growl escaped from his throat.

" Watch where you're going, goddamn it." He spoke as he pushed her aside to pass. " And clean that up right now. I mean Jesus Christ, your so much wasting time, you have less than ten minutes." The girl glared daggers as he spoke. Rage fueled her mind as she wanted to punch him square in the face, although she stopped herself, not wanting to cause any trouble. She just took in a sharp breath, closing her eyes she promptly cleaned up the mess. Hastily making herself some cereal she ate it as quickly as she could.

Masky watched her, however feeling disdain towards her as he did. His leg was still sour from where she had stabbed him, but he planned to get back at her by making the next week they had together a living hell. Staring at the clock, every minute or so he would check it to see what it said, and the moment the arrow hit exactly 7:30, he got up from where he was sitting. " Get the hell up we're going," He roughly grabbed the bowl in front of her and flushed the remaining bit of food down the drain. The girls just pursed her lips as her gaze turned bitter in the mere sight of him. She slowly got up and followed him outside. They were on the same path she took to get to the clearing she and Jack would fight in, but instead of turning left and following the path, he went in the opposite direction.

Confusion washed over her as she follower curiously, still not trusting him fully. " Where are we going?" She promptly asked as they were walking for a while. She could feel him roll his eyes, " Be quiet your voice irritates me." Not having anything else to do she just huffed loudly and followed the masked man she dislike so much with her arms folded over her chest. Her feet kept on hitting the many tree roots scattered around the path as she watched the leaves fall from the trees. Her mind wandered with them, she'd been so stressed this last week that she'd forgotten to enjoy her surroundings and she hand realised just how beautiful the forest truly was. That morning she felt a light breeze graze her soft skin as she looked up to the clear blue sky. The sound of rustling leaves filled her ears as she softly smiled at the beautiful sight of the trees being carried by the wind.

Without noticing that Masky had halted to a stop, she walked into him for the second time that day, he stood like a tree and the hard impact made the girl tumble a bit before regaining her stance. Though the man didn't even seem to notice, she softly grumbled under her breath before walking next to him. As she looked up and got a good look at her surrounding she was dumbfounded. In front of her was scattered some of the most beautiful looking flora in her life. The grass that covered the soil seemed lighter than the one she was standing on, different types of multicoloured flowers strewed in patches all around it and right in the middle, in front of them both, stood an old thick tree. It was remarkably tall, moss laid on its right side and it looked worn out over time. Its long brown branches twisted and turned as golden-green leaves spread all along with them. There was a thin stone pathway leading up to the tree and circling it to give room for someone to walk around.

" What is this place?" She softly spoke as her jaw had dropped from the sensory overload she was experiencing by the gorgeous scenery in front o her. Masky brought up his right hand closing her jaw, " This is going to be your first lesson, how to take care of this area of the forest. It's essentially the heart of it giving it its 'power' pet say, this tree is thousands of years old and you, as a middleman, have the task to not let it die." He said pointing at her as he walked through the stone path and stood in front of the tree, the girl soon following. " How do I take care of it? And what happens if I let it die?" She asked as she looked up at the tree then at him.

" Well, firstly, these flowers have to be watered every few days or they die out, and if they die out, the tree soon will follow after them. Also, the tree has to be checked and graded in 3 stages to make sure it's in the right order. Firstly, if the leaves change colour every season. When in the winter their silver and or blue, In Atom orange and or purple, spring red and or pink and then summer as you can see this type of greenish-gold colour or pure gold colour that has a whole meaning in its self. But ill explain the meaning of the colours later, when we get you a notebook you can write all of this down. But there is a deviation from this pattern the tree is most likely dying for some reason and you have to find out what the reason for that is. Second, if you notice that it starts to have some kind of sweet n=honey like odour then its sap is ready to be harvested and you'll have to harvest every last drop of it. Though this could happen any time there's no real regulation the when it can or can't, the sap is needed for magic. Lastly, You will also have to feed the tree a special oil-based serum that you will learn to make, you can do this around the time you water the plants, but f you see it rejecting it and not absorbing the oil then there's something wrong and you will have to inspect it and see if there's some kind of defect going on to fix. Now to answer your second question, if the tree were to die in your care then you will go through the most excruciating execution of your life." He spoke quickly almost as if he was dictating this to a whole class of people, though the way he announced the last sentence his tone got darker and it sent shivers up the girl's spine.

He put his hands behind his back and began to cercal the tree, the girl trailing close behind. " Now, I want to inform you that this is a type of safe space for you during the day as it prevents any magical creature from going through it. Only humans are allowed. Although, I do have to preface that there's a difference between creatures that descend from, magic and creatures that can do magic. A good example of this rule is Jack and I. He is a creature derived from magic and is not allowed to step through this in the day, and I being a human with the core and basic knowledge of magic, am allowed during the day." He spoke very fast and when he finished he took in a long breath and sighed. The girl listened thoroughly to every word he uttered but something seemed to be troubling her. " You keep on specifying that I can go here during the day. Why is that, does something happen at night?" Her tone was lased in confusion as she stopped to look around the small area.

" Well during the night this place becomes a breeding ground for death, many evil creatures come here to finish off their victims or to spend the night. This place doesn't look remotely similar at night. You'll be as good as done for if you were ever to be so unlucky as to be here untrained and unprepared past twelve. The biggest scum of this forest dwell in the night" The last few words he spoke dragged, his body seemed to tense up as he looked at her with his piercing brown eyes, which were the only thing she could see under his pale mask. "That's why unless it's something urgent do not go out in the forest at night if you're not well trained, do I make myself clear?" His tone was rough but she could tell that there was some level of concern tied within his statement, making her faintly smile.

" The first day ill be a little lenient, as to get you familiarized with the basic layout of the forest which you'll have to memorize." Clearing his throat he smirked as he slowly approached her. " I have the map to this place in my back pocket." He said stopping in front of her as he pulled out a big colourful map of the forest, the girl questioned how he was able to fit that in there. "That's why ill give you till tomorrow to learn it all." The girl's eyes went wide, she was sure he was smiling under his mask and she hated it. " What are you crazy how am I suppos-" She interjected but was soon cut off by the masked man chuckling in amusement, he got closer to her and put one of his gloved hands on her shoulder roughly pulling her towards him as he spoke.

" Well, I'm sorry to say this but there's no negotiation. Now, let's continue with our lesson. I kindly advise paying better attention to what I'm saying to make learning this by tomorrow easier. Because if you don't know let's just say things won't end well for you."

[dragon-fics]

DOS: (The Dragon Prince UA*) Raining Love (Female Dragon-Shifter X Female Moonshadow elf/Reader)

Chapter summary: You're a Moonshadow elf who was out training during the rainiest autumn Xadia has ever had. After suffering a nasty slip, you meet your savior.

~Requested~

*UA = Universe Alteration

I'm back my dragonlings! I have a writing-filled summer ahead! Here's the first request to start us off!

Happy Pride y'all🏳️‍🌈!

Btw if you're interested, I have a TDP fanfic with the same UA as this. And I absolutely didn't give my OC a mention in this (I saw an opportunity and I took it! lmao). It's called His Apprentice and I'll be finishing it soon and starting its sequel; please check it out! <3

(I've been playing and reading too much Dragon Age and so the slang "knife-ears" had to make an entrance in here :3)

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T/O/W = Type of Weapon (bowblade, sword, daggers etc.)

The mossy tree branches squelched beneath my navy boots as I ricocheted from giant tree to giant tree, wielding my (T/O/W). I sliced it through thin air, imagining humans facing my wrath as I hopped from one wet tree to another.

Gripping the damp bark of the nearest tree, I slid to a halt, standing on a broad branch. I placed my weapon(s) away and looked up at the sky. Beyond the dark green canopy, I could see dark rain clouds looming closer to me and the Silvergrove, ready to spill thousands and thousand of raindrops down onto us—again.

That was all this week had been; rain, rain and what’s this? More rain.

I sighed irritably and turned around, back towards the hidden Moonshadow elf village. I leaped my way quickly to the village, bounding through the trees with ease; until the rain poured.

My boots, the moss and the bark got wetter and slippier, causing me to lose balance a few times, but I quickly made up for it. Until I reached a huge star plum tree—the tree with the smoothest bark in all of Xadia.

To avoid a fall, I grabbed a branch on the plum tree and swung onto another tree. As I landed, my boots slid and my feet went from under me.

The impact when my back hit the branch winded me, and before I could bury a dagger from my belt into the tree, I slipped off the branch, plummeting to the ground. I screamed, my limbs flailing. I had no way to avoid falling to my death, no way to survive.

Several branches smacked me in the face, scratching my skin. One branch even had the audacity to hit my forehead... and then it went black.

*-*-*-*

The first thing I heard when I came to was the pitter-pattering of rain against wood and metal. The sound almost tempted me to keep my eyes closed and drift off again. But then a dull throbbing arose, and my head ached. I peeled open my eyes as it all came back to me; my training routine, the slick moss, the pouring rain, the fall…

The fall!

I bolted upright in what appeared to be a bed. An unfamiliar bed at that, covered in a patched quilt. The small house was lit with small flaming torches every metre or so. The quiet crackling of logs burning came from the opposite corner of the room, along with the bubbling sound of something boiling on a stove. My eyes slowly adjusted, realising that someone was at the stove.

“Relax, Knife-ears,” came a disinterested voice from where the bubbling was coming from. She continued stirring what was in the pot. “You’re alright; a mild concussion. But the storm’s getting worse so don’t even think about running off.”

She was a little taller than I was, with large white scaly wings and a narrow trail behind her. She was built strong and slim. Her scales shimmered against the torch lighting. A long white braid fell down her back, almost touching her tail where it joined her back, and two sets of narrow, smooth, elegantly curved horns protruded through her skull. A mix of teals and greens clung to her body as a tight, figure hugging set of leggings and wrapped top. Pale skin peeked through where the clothing didn’t meet around her lower back. She was a dragon-shifter for sure—like that strange dragon-shifter halfling that used to live in the Silvergrove with Rayla and her guardians. What was her name? Daisy? Violet? No, it was...

Heather! That was the halfling. Such a strange little being. Looking back now, I kind of felt bad for the way I ignored her; I was such an idiot, but fitting in was so important as kids. That was why no one was friends with her and no one would dare lose out on popularity by being friends with her.

I shook myself out of my thoughts; now wasn’t time for the guilty reflections I had in the middle of the night, now was the time to get to know this sparkly dragon-shifter. I opened my mouth to speak before realising I had no idea how to start.

“Um, hi?” I started. “I’m—”

“I don’t care who you are, Knife-ears,” she said, not looking up from her meal. She sighed and continued stirring.

I huffed. “I’m (Y/N),” I pushed on. Who are you?”

“The magic fairy who lives in this magical forest,” she sighed.

I grumbled. “So why did you rescue me, o magical fairy?”

She sighed again. I really wanted to slam my palm up her nose. “Don’t call me that. If you must call me anything, I am Zaithi. Zay for short.” She paused as she lifted her pot off the stove, stirred it one more time, and poured some into a small bowl. “And I didn’t rescue you. You got caught in one of the branches above my home. An elf lying unconscious above my home is sure to scare off well-paying customers.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not—nothing in this room looked like something people would come in to purchase something.

“So,” she continued, “I brought you inside and treated your head injury. You’re welcome.”

At this rate, I wasn’t too sure if everything she said was a joke. “Um, thanks, by the way.”

Zay hummed dismissively and came over with the small bowl of whatever she’d been cooking. Seeing her face made my heart pause beating for a second. She was exquisite with a slender face—not as slender as an elf’s—and round, icy blue cat-like eyes. I also noticed that at the front her top spiked upward, baring her toned stomach at me. “Here, this will fight off any cold you’ll pick up.”

I took the small wooden bowl from her in both hands. “What is it?” I asked, curiously. I smelled delicious. I took a sip. The liquid was thick and clear, with a few floating chunks in it that were soft and barely needed to be chewed.

“Phoenix-guts-and-toad-brain soup,” she said with a grin.

I spat out the soup, surprised and disgusted.

Zay laughed wildly, wiping away a tear from her eye. “Oh, Knife-ears, you’re too gullible.” She snorted. “I’m joking; it’s elfroot-and-bogey-berries soup with some homegrown veggies.”

I looked from her to the soup. “From now on I’m going to presume everything you say is a joke,” I said, taking a sip of the soup.

She chuckled. “You wouldn’t be the first.” She pulled out a chair from the square table between the stove and the fireplace and sat backwards in it, facing me.

“So, why did you actually help me?” I asked, pulling the quilt back up around me, wrapping it around my shoulders.

Zay shrugged. “Guess I had the skills to prevent you from getting ill so I figured I might as well use them.”

I cocked a brow at her, pushing her for more.

She sighed—again. “My parents insisted I be a healer—like my mother was so she could help in the war before I was born. Though really, I want to be a soldier—like my father, though he didn’t have much of a choice in being one.” She looked aside to where my (W/O/C) lay on the floor with my belt of knives.

I glanced at them as well, and she rested her head on her crossed arms. I felt sorry for her, forced to be something she’s not. “I could teach you,” I blurted.

Zay lifted her head ever so slightly, as if she wouldn’t dare get her hopes up too high. She nodded a little. “Sure, if you want.”

*-*-*-*

“No warrior stops because of a little rain!” I scowled as Zay headed for the door. Dark spots of sweat coloured her top and the back of her leggings after our hours of training.

She sighed, gripping her wooden sword. “I am not getting caught in a thunderstorm, (Y/N)!” she shouted, determined to stay as dry as possible. “Go home before you get struck by lightning, Knife-ears.”

I crossed my arms grumpily and grabbed my bag. I was tempted to go home and stay dry, but... staying dry with Zay…

My heart skipped, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the thought. “Wait!” I called as she closed the door. I bolted towards it and she opened it just in time. I crashed into her, my face on her chest. She closed the door behind me, smirking.

“What a delightful picture I’m looking at,” she quipped—I think. She wrapped her muscular arm around me and I stayed still, heat rising to my cheeks and my heart racing faster—I really liked this.

I gave her an awkward smile. I had been so honest with her these past few weeks; she knew I wasn’t interested in male elves. And I was sure she knew what I was feeling.

“Everything alright, Knife-ears?”

I hesitated, slowing my heart and softening my expression. “Yeah, just glad to be dry.”

“For now,” she smirked, taking my lips.

[wxldhxrt]

Path of the Feral Guardian...

Since arriving at Camp Godspeed, things have been harrowing for the Son of Pan in some way, shape, or form. But there have also been moments of clarity, of peace, of enlightenment. Maybe it felt similar to his life before all of this, but maybe it has been better, too. Less darkness, more light. Except for what happened at the Trial of Deimos. After what felt like far too long in a nightmarish dimension, testing himself and his allies, Greyson is back where he belongs. Perhaps he considers this his home now, at Camp Godspeed. Sleep doesn’t come easy like it sometimes would. There is too much on his mind. Fresh scars and emotional wounds from what they’d endured in the Trial of Deimos. Eventually, though, he finds himself drifting to sleep. 

 He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep, but when he wakes up, he’s not where he remembers he fell asleep. Was he sleep walking? Was this a dream? He opens his eyes and he sees something, a familiar landscape. 

It had taken him some time to finally drift off to sleep, which wasn't uncommon lately for Greyson. Even with Ender's warm body beside him, the comfort of the other's arm loosely tossed over his stomach, something that usually helped Grey sleep, he'd struggled to find it until eventually he must have dosed off. The first thing he noticed was the smell, no longer the warm scent of his bedroom, the lingering hints of mint and lime from his shower but instead the wet earthy scent of the forest, so unique and yet familiar to him in a way that nothing else would ever be. 

 When Grey opened his eyes he was laid down on the forest floor, staring up past thick tree trunks towards a canopy of green, sunshine or moonlight, it was hard to tell, trickling down through the cracks in the leaves in a flickering shower of light. Slowly he sat up and looked around, at first thinking the thick forest strange to him until Greyson started to recognise trails and pathways through the underbrush, certain trees, their shapes and trunks making it clear he'd been there before, but not for many years. The Forest of Dean had been a place he'd visited as a child, when times were simpler, happier.

It is a sight to behold when Greyson's eyes open. Moss covered tree trunks tower toward the heavens, giving way to a thick canopy of leaves that filters in the sun's light. Golden rays dance upon the ground here and there, spotting it with beautiful, glowing light. Well worn trails spiderweb throughout the forest, footprints that have both been washed away with time and seem as if they were just pressed into the earth. 

 As Greyson's eyes finally adjust and his senses become more in tune with the wild earth that surrounds him, he notices droplets of blood that glisten crimson, trailing down one of the paths to his right.

Greyson was almost tempted to remain where he sat and let himself just bask in the tranquility of the emptiness and stillness of the forest. Alone with his thoughts and nothing but the sound of the natural world around him. But when he caught sight of the blood a frown pulled at the son of Pan's brow. Perhaps a creature was injured, the result of another's hunt. Either way he was intrigued. He didn't hesitate to call upon his magic, body seamlessly shifting from that of a man to a wolf in a cascade of green light. Here in the wild, it was natural to be of the wild, to walk silently amongst the trees on light paws, instinct knowing where to tread to leave no mark while guided by senses far greater than his own. 

 He shook out thick grey fur, luminous green eyes seeing the world in shades of yellow and blue. Grey sniffed at the blood briefly, trying to gather all the information he could about it before the wolf began to follow its trail, padding silently through the trees.

His form shifts, flesh beginning to sprout dark, rich grey fur. Fingernails turn to claws, teeth sharpen into canines. As his new snout begins to sniff the blood, he releases the blood smells familiar. Vibrant green eyes scan the area and find the path of blood before following it. 

It leads on and on, the forest becoming darker and darker as he follows the droplets of blood that are scattered around the forest floor. Finally, he reaches where they lead. 

As the trees around him seem to grow thicker, more foreboding and less like the light, tranquil forest he knew, Greyson remained alert, ears perked up tracking for any sound that wasn't his own. His pace was even but slowed as a sense of uneasiness at the darkening scenery grew. When finally the trail came to a stop, canine eyes lay on a huge stag, antlers stretching high, far larger and more intricate than any deer he'd seen before. Its size was otherworldly, giant and etherial in appearance. 

Thick grey fur the colour of stone seemed to be covered in moss, as if the creature was so ancient the very forest was a part of it. The heart of nature itself. Greyson could smell the metallic hint of blood thicker now, hot on the air now he was so close to the creature wounded. He peered at it from the treeline before eventually moving forward, revealing himself.

The giant stag stands in the center of the forest, blood trickling from wounds on the underside of its belly, its neck, and hind legs. When Greyson moves forward, revealing himself, the creature turns and stares at him. Large eyes, luminescent and green, stare into Greyson's soul, or so it feels like it. 

But as Greyson begins to come forward, out of the shadows of the trees, more wolves begin to do the same. They all look like Greyson. Grey fur, green eyes, and begin to circle around the stag as if getting ready for a hunt. Even with this stags incredible size, the wolves that look exactly like Greyson almost match it. 

They snarl angrily and the stag's eyes go wide with fear. The scent of blood fills the air even more so now, as if the fear is intensifying the scent, and Greyson can almost identify who the blood belongs to, who the stag might represent. 

What does the blood smell like? Who does it remind Greyson of?

At first when Greyson saw the other wolves, mirrors of himself appear from the darkened forest, he was confused, the way they all circled the stag put him on edge until the scent of blood grew stronger. Animal instinct took over and he was growling and snarling as much as they were, hungry for the hunt and the kill. But beneath the scent of blood, moss and wet earth he caught something familiar, something foreign here in this tranquil but dangerous place. 

His stepfather's cheap aftershave. It had always smelled horrible to Greyson, just as vile as the man who wore it. Musty, peppery, like it was ten years out of date and yet he still wore it. Cheap on a man who pretended to be anything but. The stronger the scent got the more he began to snarl, a pure hate boiling inside the wolf as he was once again reminded of how truly putrid Stevan had been. 

Grey began to circle the stag along with the other wolves, getting closer each pass around it, watching as the other's nipped at its wounded legs, trapping it. It was as if even after all this time he could still feel Steven's cold indifference towards him, the distain he'd had for Greyson from day one. And then when his mother had fallen ill, he'd found every excuse not to be there for her, not to care for her and instead left Grey to watch her deteriorate before his very eyes as he did his best to make her last moments bearable and happy. Like he had been waiting for April to die to finally take all that she had and kick Greyson out into the cold.

There is a coldness that settles into Greyson's heart as the smell of cheap aftershave assaults his senses. Every memory of a life in which he felt unwanted and neglected comes rushing back in. He remembers his mother's slow death and the chilling realization that the man that was his stepfather, the man his mother loved once upon a time, wanted nothing more than to be rid of them. 

The other wolves inch closer and the stag rears back on its hind legs and kicks out viciously before it begins to bound away, as quick as a gust of wind through the forest. It blends in with the surrounding trees, camouflaged as it attempts to run away from its attackers.

With a howl of anger and rage, Greyson led his pack in pursuit of the stag. He only saw red, only smelled the blood coming from its wounds and knew he wanted, needed to end it. Steven had run like a coward before, hidden himself away from April's suffering and left it all on Greyson's shoulders to bear when he'd barely been an adult himself. Eighteen and fresh into university, trying to balance study, work and caring for his dying mother. It was more than anybody should have to shoulder and yet Grey had. 

Then when he'd finally lost her, Steven had taken everything, the house, what little of their money had been left, any jewellery or tokens Grey might have wanted to keep to remember her, all gone. Stripped bare like a vulture picking apart an old carcass. He'd even banned Grey from the funeral and that had been the final knife in the back. 

As he chased down his prey, Grey didn't see the stag anymore, didn't hear its echoing cries but instead heard the panting and wails of a terrified man, tripping clumsily as he ran through the forest that only seemed to grow thicker, impeding his attempted escape while Greyson was fleet of foot, darting around trees and through the underbrush like he was made for it.

With each bounding step that Greyson takes, the forest beneath his paws shifts. The earth moves, vines and tree roots uproot themselves to narrow down the escape of the man that had stolen away his livelihood all those years ago. Greyson can smell the scent of the stag but it changes as he closes in on him. The stag shrinks, the large antlers falling away, the brown fur, flecked with moss, gone, leaving the flesh of a man that had never truly accepted or loved him standing surrounding by a bramble of vines and roots. 

Steven pants, eyes wild and wide with fear, as he turns to face Greyson. He's the first wolf that reaches him, the others having disappeared into the forest, perhaps circling to ensure there's no escape.

Greyson's eyes are wild and feral as he started at Steven, taking pleasure from finally seeing fear on the other's smarmy face that always used to wear a sneer of disdain and disgust whenever he looked at him. He felt larger somehow, as if he were no ordinary wolf but bigger, towering over this small, pathetic little man. Greyson snarled, the sound vicious and threatening as he snapped his jaws at him just to make him shriek more, taking pleasure from the smell and sound of his fear. 

"You!" The words are a thick growl, barely human. "You made me watch her die because you couldn't stand to look at her as the cancer ate everything she was from the inside!" He snarled, jaws snapping once again, drawing closer, this time snagging his leg and dragging him kicking and screaming. "You took away my chance to put her to rest! You denied me my last goodbye!" A pained and angered howl ripped out of the wolf as his claws dug deep into flesh.

The angry jaws of a hungry wolf seem to be the only thing that Greyson can feel. The pain and resentment of a life that he was denied to say goodbye to, of putting his mother to rest and giving her a final goodbye that she deserved comes crashing down. As his teeth sink into the flesh, the man's blood tastes guilt ridden, poisonous; a different type of cancer that has eaten him away from the inside out, just as it had his mother. Then, sharp claws sink into his flesh, rending him to pieces as Steven attempts to scream. 

But no sound comes out. From the corner of Greyson's luminous eyes, he sees something else approaching through the forest. 

What does Greyson see? Describe it in as much detail as you would like.

The taste of vile blood like poison made Greyson shake his head in disgust, tongue lapping between sharp teeth over and over as if to rid himself of the taste as he pawed at his snout. It was then he noticed movement in his peripheral. The wolf turned to snarl, ready to lash out or fight any threat or defend his claim to his prize like a wild animal, but the sight made him pause. 

A pure white barn owl sat perched on a branch just overhead, looking down at him with eyes that seemed hauntingly familiar. Deep in the dark depths, Greyson saw specks of a familiar green, eyes he'd thought closed to the world on the day she'd died. For a long moment the wolf stared in disbelief, growling angrily once more, ears pinned back as he snapped up at the owl but it seemed unfazed by his aggression, almost smiling down at him. 

Grey wanted to deny it further, but he couldn't when things in this forest seemed to be so strange. "Mum?"

The white barn owl spreads its wings before it makes itself comfortable among the branches of the forest trees. Large eyes that Greyson has looked in before stare down at him. The owl's head tilts to the side, almost completely, as it stares down at the scene before it. 

"IS THIS WHO YOU ARE?" The owl speaks, the words filling the air among the branches and thicket of trees. "IS THIS WHO YOU'VE BECOME?" 

Describe the voice of the owl. Does it belong to his mother? How does it make him feel? Describe it in as much detail as possible.

There was no denying her soft tone, warm and inviting, soothing in a way that Greyson had always loved listening to. She'd been an amazing singer, although she'd stuck to long car journeys with the music turned up too loud or while cooking a meal in their tiny kitchen. Greyson thought he'd never hear that voice again, had even begun to forget it, as painful as that thought was. 

But it had been years and every time he tried to recall it, it faded just a little more. But now it was clear, unmistakeable and the sound alone almost brought him to tears. He whined softly looking up at the owl that spoke with his mother's voice. Grey wasn't sure what was more painful, hearing it again but not from her, or having it fade away from his memory entirely one day. 

It took him a while to answer the question, having to think about it for a long moment. Who was he? What was he? Demigod? Greyson Darcy? "I am what I've always needed to be."

The owl hoots in response, a laugh. It's not condescending, but knowing. "A DIPLOMATIC ANSWER." The owl expands its wings before it flies down to rest on a branch closer to Greyson now. It rustles its feathers, getting comfortable once again. 

"THEN SHOW ME WHAT YOU NEED TO BE."

For a moment Greyson wasn't sure what the owl wanted from him, a demonstration of his power? Something else? He let the magic fade away from his form, once more returning to his human shape, leaving fur and fangs behind as he stood and walked closer to the owl once more. "Out there, in the walking world? Because this is a dream." He asked, reaching out to brush his fingers across pure white feathers. The owl might not be his mother, but while it carried her voice, it was like having a part of her back, a part he could touch even if just briefly.

"YES." His mother's voice fills his ears and he feels this sense of comfort wash over him. "THIS IS WHERE YOU BROUGHT ME. RESHAPE IT HOW YOU SEE FIT. BECOME WHO YOU WANT TO BE." The owl preens when the feathers are stroked and warm eyes stare into Greyson's, an encouraging nod to reach as deep as he would like.

Greyson gave a nod as those warm familiar eyes meet his before he closed his own hazel ones and took a deep breath. Reshape this world as he saw fit. He could feel the very life of nature around him in every living plant and animal within the darkened forest. Pulling from the blood in his veins Grey pictured in his mind what he wanted to see. The forest remained dark but was illuminated by fireflies and plant life beyond any imagining, the whole place became an etherial wonderland, haunting in its beauty and mystery. The trees still seemed to reach beyond the sky, the ground covered in a carpet of wildflowers that seemed to give off their own light. Every animal, from big to small was illuminated by an etherial essence, their patterns in their fur or scales and skin glowing. 

 It was a place of wonder, still shrouded in darkness, deadly to anyone who was not welcome, but inviting and safe to those Greyson considered his. A wall of thick thorns could be seen protecting the outer edges of the forest from any who would see to do it harm. And when Greyson thought of himself, he was the protector of his lands, a comfort to his own, his pack, his people, but a feral beast and dangerous to any enemy.

The Forest of Dean shifts beneath Greyson's feet. As he concentrates, the owl watches as the trees begin to glow with a bioluminescent glow as fireflies begin to twist around the branches like natural lanterns for his friends to find their way to safety. The animals, too, begin to glow with that same soft green light. Wildflowers blossom, sprouting around the paths, up along the moss covered stones and trees, up into the branches that grow and grow, taller than the clouds in the sky. 

It is a safe haven and a dangerous trap—like most things in the wild. Something inviting, but something dangerous. When Greyson breathes in deeply he can smell the rich scents that the forest holds, a sense of belonging, of oneness with the world, grows inside of him like the wildflowers beneath his feet. 

"A PROTECTOR AND A FERAL PRESENCE TO THOSE THAT WOULD HARM YOUR HOME." Greyson's mother's voice fills his ears as the owl's head turns around to look at the rewritten world in wonder. Large wings flap and the owl takes flight, moving among the trees until it rests within the thick canopy of branches and leaves. 

"YOU WILL FACE ENEMIES THAT WILL THREATEN YOUR HOME AND YOUR LOVED ONES, BUT I BELIEVE YOU ARE STRONG ENOUGH TO WITHSTAND THEM." The voice is soft and gentle, a mother's love and warmth radiating from the words that float down to Greyson. Before him, a large tree stands opened, like a den for himself to rest in. "WHEN YOU ARE READY, STEP THROUGH TO MEET YOURSELF AS YOU ARE NOW."

Greyson looked at the newly shaped forest, that still held remembrances from his past, but was ultimately a place of his own creation. There was pride in his eyes for this sanctuary he had created for himself and those he trusted. When the owl spoke again, he looked up, watching as it flew around and seemed to marvel at the woodlands he had built. 

It too seemed to glow with an etherial luminescence like every other creature and plant, a piece of his mother always with him, no matter where he went or who he became. "I will rip apart any that threaten my pack." Greyson promised with a feral edge to his smile, predator hidden behind his youthful face. 

When the tree opened up and he saw the warm den inside, a few of the wolves from earlier curled up together, their eyes no longer matching his but instead those of people he loved and trusted. Greyson could identify each of them, his people, his pack. With one last look at the owl, he offered another brush of fingers to soft feathers before stepping into the tree, body shifting back to the wolf to curl up amongst his own.

As soon as Greyson shifts back into his wolf like form, he realizes that he's larger than the rest of them. When he rests among them, the wood of the tree begins to stitch itself back together. Darkness covers him as soon as he relaxes and gets comfortable. 

Greyson wakes back up and he's back in his bed, Ender resting beside him, arm strung over his exposed abdomen. His heart is racing but he feels something within him—like a feral howl within his blood. He feels awakened, alive, more powerful than he was before. 

Whatever this was, perhaps a test, has unlocked a hidden part of him that he didn't know was there. After a few minutes, he falls back asleep. It's dreamless but serene, a sense of peace that has not been felt since his arrival at camp. When he wakes back, he feels more refreshed than he has ever felt. There's a sense of purpose inside of him now, a sense of pride.

[fortunatelyhauntedblackcherry]

Moonshine - A Beetlejuice Fanfiction 02

Warning: language, slight mention of several mental illnesses, slight mention of bad childhood and trauma

Let's meet our main characters!

Beetlejuice: Do I really need to introduce our favourite, emotionally very damaged demon? He's beauty, he's grace, he's gonna set the place ablaze 🔥

Ariadne: 22-years-old, 160 cms tall, long dark chocolate-brown hair don't care, big almond-shaped emerald green eyes framed by extralong eyelashes that could cause a hurricane. Her oval face looks like an angry toddler's because those cheeks just can't get a little less puffier. She has full-lips, always painted in some extravagant colour. Her cuspids are modified to look sharp because every single one of us had a vampire phase... And some of us went a mile further. Her skin is pale and she has an hourglass-shape. She has some tattooes over her body (we're gonna come back to that in a later episode). She has a bitchy witchy aesthetic. She has a very dark and inappropriate, smutty, facepalm-worth humour and LOVES to joke with death (which most of her relatives hate). She knows how to use every herb that ever existed, how to cure sicknesses and what to drink when you are low... Although she has depression, anxiety, and many other issues. Hetero. Adores her cactus-collection and would kill for her pets, Minerva (cat) and Sirius (dog). She always reads 3-4 books at once, mostly fantasy, mythological stuff or Shakespearian drama. She LOVES to eat. Especially junk food or pasta she makes. Been a huge fan of horror since she was 6 and has a kink for slasher horrors. She's studying archeology and as a side-hustle works as a singer in a bar. Sews her own dresses and very proudly wears them.

Rei: 22-years-old, although a couple of months older than Ari. 175 cms tall, always-tired, dark moss-green eyes with extralong eyelashes (it goes in the family), but unfortunately she has to cover them with glasses (she rocks them though). Her face is heptagon-shaped, which makes her look older than her real age. That cheekbone could kill a man. Her hair is a very pretty golden copper, like the falling leaves in autumn that only cover her shoulders. She has full-lips too, but a bit thinner than Ari's, mostly painted nude. When she smiles you can see that she has a chipped tooth which she always wanted to get fixed but never got the time for it and now it's a part of her. Her skin is not pale, it's fuckin grey because the girl haven't seen the sun in months. She's a bit plump. Urban grunge aesthetic. She copes with depression with very dark jokes, or very bad dad-jokes. She's the living script of The Office. Hetero. Her job is her hobby: she's a streamer, plays videogames all day and night. Has a love/hate relationship with YouTube. Adores Minerva (cat) and Sirius (dog) too but thinks they should get a smaller dog too cause Sirius will kill one of them one day with his weight during bedtime. Caffeine flows through her veins instead of blood at this point. She loves the stars and could talk about them for hours.

Sofía: 24-years-old, 185cms tall (frickin giant yo), has a huge amount of light-coppery ginger hair, almost like Merida. Icy green eyes that could pierce through your soul but somehow remind you of a calm, cold morning by the sea. Her diamon-shaped face has a million freckles on it. She has bow-shaped lips with a heavy lover lip, with lipstick redder than wine. Her skin is pale AF and she's THICC. She is obsessed with chokers and always have one on. Either looks like a teenage boy or a hooker. She is definitely fiesty and has a serious temper issue. When things go down, you go down. She gets annoyed when any minor inconvenience happens. She bakes almost every day cause she has a sweet tooth for pies and cookies. Always exploring (always trespassing), always capturing the moments with her camera. She works as a free-lancing photographer and is very happy with doing whatever she wants. Lesbian AF but never came out of the closet for her parents. Collects crystals (and buys more and more) and would die for Sirius (dog). She bingewatches serial-killer documentaries all the time, than hates herself in the morning (stupid night-owl).

The girls are from Europe (not gonna specify) and they are half-sisters... Well, their father is the same but they all have different mums. Their father was a businessman and a car-racer (as a hobby) back in the day, which made him an excuse to never be home... He was never there, left one woman for another, never saw any of his kids grow up. The kids that only got to know about each other because of a mislabeled mail. The girls hate him (hate's a very strong word but it's appropriate in this situation) because everytime he and their mums meet, he humiliates them. But they have to put up with him because of his fortune they will inherit (let's hope soon).

The only good thing he ever did was to financially support the girls' education (because otherwise the moms would have sued him, so he had to) and buy his daughters a house abroad, in the US, to try their wings, and to provide a peaceful life for Ari after what she's been through.

He bought them a pretty Victorian-era house, which was rumored to be haunted.

That's why the girls chose it. Who doesn't like a good old spooky house? And anyways, ghosts can't hurt them... Can they?

[upliftsquire]

Reset

The world burned. 

Nihilists. Anarchists. Terrorists. They all got what they wanted that day - the end of peace, strained as it had always been, and the beginning of an Age of Fear, of Depravity, of Sin, of sheer Horror. They must have spent a long time working towards this primitive future, Petra had always thought, though of course, none of them were left alive to say. They must have stolen, or even bought huge amounts of crude oil, because surely the oil rigs couldn't have been leaking unchecked for so long. The crews must all have been killed, they said before they left Petra all alone, or replaced by Them. The Nihilists, the Anarchists, the Terrorists. The Arsonists. It was late at night - midnight, they always said, but in truth the exact time was uncertain - when the world shook. Every oil rig in one excellently timed stroke had been bombed. They'd exploded into a million unrecoverable fragments, along with the people inside. The seas had already been blackened with oil, but in the dark of night that preluded the disaster, it had been unnoticed. In the days before, it had been naught but a creeping darkness on the horizon that no one acknowledged. The flames travelled down beneath the ocean as well, licking across the great drills the oil rigs had once used. When there were still people to say it, they said it was devils fire, that the end had come at the hands of demons. Whoever had caused it, they had caused the volcanoes to erupt, to spit out molten rock when the people were trapped by burning rivers. Petra had once heard a man say it was like a house on fire, if we call the planet our house. Perhaps he was right - if the sink caught fire, if burning oil spewed from the taps, and black smoke billowed from the shower. Millions had died that first day, tens of millions, hundreds of millions. No one knew exactly how many. How could you tell, when ashes were all that was left? The governments collapsed, the military were disorganised - so many soldiers, sailors, and pilots were lost that day. There was no one left to keep order. The skies were black. They stayed like that for years, so many years, and the crops choked on the smoke. Too few realised this at first, and even those smart ones didn't last long. There were riots, encouraged by the seemingly eternal night, by the demonic creatures that seemed to live in the smoke that stifled their world. Those who harboured grudges killed indiscriminately - they never stopped at just one. They either went on to kill until they themselves were killed, or driven by despair, they killed themselves. The poor and embittered stole all the things they'd coveted - they stole all the things that became worthless - money, jewels, all those things that seemed so important but never really were. Every atrocious burning desire that had lain dormant and hidden in peoples hearts was committed without fear of repercussion. So many people died. From hunger, from horror, from despair, from murder. They all died, and left Petra alone. She'd been young when it all began, barely old enough to remember any of it. She didn't know how old she was now, it had been so long, and all the days blurred together. Was she fifteen, or twenty five? She didn't know, and it didn't matter. The skies had paled from their demonic black to a smoky grey by the time she was left on her own, the kind farm owner who'd helped her for so long finally succumbed to illness. At first, she'd travelled - all over Europe, she'd even swum the channel and gone to Britain, and spent quite a bit of time in Africa, though it was a while before she realised she'd wandered into another continent. She never met anyone. No one alive, at least. The dead though - they were everywhere. There were far fewer than any survivor of the end of days should reasonably expect. Most of the worlds population were ash, were sediment at the bottom of the sea, were nothing at all anymore. She buried all the dead she came across, spending weeks, possibly even months in some towns. For every person, she would make up stories of what their lives were like, guessing at their names, assuming their personalities from what little she saw of their lives and deaths in their surroundings, and writing all of it down in small, neat handwriting in notebooks of various sizes, all in almost perfect condition due to the care she gave them. Petra carried the notebooks in a messenger bag she took across all of Europe and Africa with her. She was carrying those people with her wherever she went. Perhaps it was Petra's vivid imagination, or perhaps she was just lonely, or even insane, but when she finally returned to Kazan, a small town in Russia near a pure clean lake, her hometown, she imagined that she brought a whole country full of people with her, and she knew them all. They had whole lives in the small world of her notebooks and the expansive world of her mind - they loved, fought, danced, sang, did everything people do, good and bad. Petra knew she couldn't live in her dreams, as nice as they were. She found she didn't mind being on her own - she'd always been shy, but knowing there was no one around, she'd dance through the empty streets, whether the sun shone dimly through the sky's eternal grey pallor, or whether the rain fell in sheets. She didn't care - her notebooks were safe in the waterproof messenger bag she'd nicked from a post office in Arzamas when she'd started her first notebook. The world was dead, and she was alone, but she was happy. Not just content, but genuinely happy. But Petra couldn't live in her dreams, didn't need to, and she certainly couldn't live without food and water. She couldn't travel forever because there was no guarantee that the place she went to next would have anything for her to scavenge. As well as taking food and drinks, she would also take clothes, since she couldn't clean her own with any regularity. Several years before, she had abondoned the clothes she'd set off in. She would take books from place to place, only carrying them long enough to read them. Her notebooks already hindered her with their comforting weight, she couldn't afford to add anything that wasn't utterly essential to that. Petra travelled for a long time, she'd been everywhere her feet could take her, until her wanderlust eventually faded enough for her to decide to return to Kazan. She didn't know how old she was when she started, and she had no idea how much older she was now. A decade, more? It may as well have been forever by the time she was home again. The skies were blue again by then. In Kazan, there was a small farm near the lake, where Petra had spent much of her time. There was an old oak tree that she'd loved - it was a massive sprawling thing, with a network of branches that, with enough supplies, she could easily and comfortably have stayed in for several days at a time. It was right beside the lake, so close that some of the branches were above the still, clear blue water. Petra's mother had always been afraid that she would fall, but she and all the farmhands had insisted that the grass was green and soft around the tree, and she had been taught how to swim in case she fell in the lake. The tree had been black and rotting when she'd left, wandering towns in search for food that had grown into her wanderlust. It was green again now, green and thriving. The first thing Petra did when she was back in Kazan was climb that tree. She straddled one of the branches that hung out over the water, hugging it tightly. She didn't hold it so desperately tightly out of fear of falling - the grass was green and soft again, and Petra still knew how to swim- she held it out of the joy she found in it's life. For so long, the only living were inside her notebooks, but the life of this tree was like the benign reanimation of a dear dead friend. The branch was thick and alive, the entire tree covered in bright green leaves. Below her was clear water - clearer than it had ever been in her memory - clear enough that she could see the grey rocks at the bottom, and make out the individual scales of the brightly coloured fish that swam in it if she so chose. She could hear birds in the distance, chirping happuily, and she saw animal prints in the soggy ground around the lake. Beyond the lake, she saw the old farmhouse. It was empty of human presence, but not dead. It was home now to many animals, and nature was reclaiming it - moss grew all up the sides, and vines crept in the windows and doors. Petra smiled, she couldn't help it. There was no other human in the world, but she wasn't alone. A butterfly settled on the branches Petra was hugging, inches away from her nose. It's wings were beautiful, dazzling sapphire blues and emerald greens. The butterfly looked curiously at Petra, before flying away. The butterfly, being a butterfly, couldn't have said how far it flew. It couldn't even recognise the surface it landed on as being a button (it rather thought it a flower, a poppy or rose perhaps). It's weight was far too little to push the button down, but it didn't matter, as the button had already been depressed. The little butterfly was utterly ignorant of the stark white lettering on this red button. RESET.

[chikkachu]

I’m Back

Summary: Natsu welcomes Lucy home, in the way he knows best. NaLu Smut OneShot. 

Singspiration: If you fancy a laugh —> At Last - Etta James

ff.net/A03

A/N: I was going to flesh this out a bit more, but I decided I’ve been late enough haha! I hope you enjoy your requested smut @nalufever  . Also, credit where credit is due to @keii  for her amazing NaLu art that gave me inspiration ;) This story is 10% some kind of plot and 90% smut. ;)  

-x-

She paused, a shuddering breath left passed her lips. Too much time had passed since she had left. A year to be exact.  Absence taught her that time moved slowly when parted from the second half of her soul.

Natsu.

He would be charging towards her any minute now. Finding her scent from miles away wasn’t unusual, it was in his nature. Rooted to the spot, Lucy couldn’t find it within her to move. Still debating what she was going to say, what could she say that would be believable. She had never lied to him before, technically it was lying by omission. He would never have accepted she had to find Aquarius alone.

Hence the reason, travelling to the continent via the spirit world so he wouldn’t be able to track her.  

“He’s not here you know.” Pivoting quickly to source the voice, piercings and coal orbs came into view, eyes focused on her as he spoke, “Salamander’s on a job.”

“Gajeel.” He hadn’t aged a day.

“I hope you’re back for good Bunny,” Before she could turn around and head back, his words made her stop.

“You hurt him.”

And myself, she added silently in her head.

“I know.” She whispered, because what else could she say.

“Are you coming in or not?” He asked after a moment of contemplative quiet between the pair of them, brushing past her with a nod that signified that she should follow. She did so without complaint.  

“How is Levi?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He replied, patting her head gently as she caught up with his large ground swallowing footsteps.

Seeing Fairy Tail again sent her blood pressure soaring, happy memories surfacing in her mind. For now, she would concentrate on greeting her guildmates and worry about Natsu later.

-x-

Dragging her hand over the familiar stone wall, breathing in their home. Smoke, charcoal, rain, and wilderness, all Natsu. Looking around she noticed he hadn’t changed anything, the vase she placed in the corner, the little carvings he made her were still in the same arrangement above the fireplace.

In the front of their log burner, Happy’s sheepskin rug had surface dust, telling her that they had been away for a while.

Walking further inside and feeling jittery, tears threatening to form with nostalgia overwhelming her, Lucy sat down on the sofa. Laying down, Natsu’s red coat making a nice pillow to rest her head on. Nosing the fabric, a smoke-wood scent surrounded her, enabled long gone dreams to float into her psyche.

Planning for babies and growing old together, a pleasant pass-time, before and after she left.

Now, she wasn’t sure if he would forgive her, let alone take her back. Deciding to use her time efficiently she put herself to work, cleaning the house from top to bottom. After changing the bed linen and wiping over all the windows, she took the time to explore.

A small leather bound book lay on Natsu’s side of the bed, on closer inspection, it was her diary. It was worn, as though it had seen a lot more use in the years she’d been gone.

Had he been reading it, trying to figure out why she had left?

Where she had disappeared too?

The answer came to her almost immediately because yes, Natsu would track her to the ends of the earth. And like with Igneel, he would continue to do so until he found her.

He loves her with his entire being, she knew that without a doubt. Natsu didn’t do things in half measures.

It was all or nothing.

The reason she left as she did was to find Aquarius, which unfortunately was a task she had to complete alone, part of the test she had made for herself. She should have been annoyed that he intruded on her privacy, but he wouldn’t listen anyway.

Lucy buried herself under the covers, warm hues colouring the atmosphere and room, telling her it was nearly dusk.

She awakened to the noise of the door crashing open downstairs, a nervous feeling settling into her stomach when she realised that their reunion was imminent and fast approaching. Lucy pulled the covers over her head, in an ill attempt to hide and give herself time to prepare.

She wasn’t feeling ready, despite the hours she had just taken to think about him and what she could say. The bedroom door swung open, slamming into the wall loudly and she closed her eyes tightly, staying perfectly still.

Apparently, Natsu had other ideas, the quilt ripped off her form. Lying still, she made no move to turn around. She didn’t need to. Swung around by her ankles, Lucy came face to face with a sullen Natsu.

Positioned at the edge of the bed, his fingers gripping her thighs as he stood between them.

Neither said anything as they continued to stare. The urge to touch him, to feel his warmth, for the first time in what felt like an aeon. Lucy reached forward, using an elbow to support herself, as her fingertips grazed his chest.

Gripping her hand, Natsu flattened her palm on his chest, she felt his pounding heart underneath her fingertips. She stayed there for a moment, before tracing a path up his neck, to cup his cheek, her body rose to accommodate the movement. Face to face, his breath tickling her bottom lip, they drifted closer.

“Lucy,” Natsu growled her name, the noise full of heat, he grasped her neck, controlling her head as he took her lips. Canine teeth teased over her upper lip, then he lay butterfly kisses, making his way to the corner of her mouth. Placing a sweet kiss, a pause in momentum got the desired effect. Turning, Lucy tried to catch him, succeeding in a nibble before pulling away again.

Laying teasing pecks on her lips, she followed him each time with no success. Fed up with his teasing, she gripped his hair, her other arm looping over his shoulder. Smirking as she wrapped her legs around him, finding the leverage to pull him on top.  Two could play that game, but Lucy didn’t want to play right now.  

When they started their relationship, it became quickly apparent their arguments were settled carnally more often than not. She got too upset to speak and Natsu always acted on how he felt, getting straight to the point. Asking why he always initiated after an argument, Lucy received a typical Natsu answer.

“Lucy all fired up, is the best Lucy. We always make it right anyway.”

His unshakable faith in their relationship was amazing. Lucy had to agree, Natsu all fired up was sexy. She’d never admit it out loud but watching his strength and passion in a fight did things to her. Sometimes it got ridiculous, such as when he argued with Gray.

She should want to bang their heads together, instead, she wanted to pull him into a broom closet.

Who said quickies didn’t get the job done?

They had certainly christened a few surfaces at the guild. Not that she would ever tell Erza that. Right now, Natsu was in one of his rare intense moods, probably due to his still being mad. Angry Natsu fucked like the fire dragon in his soul, all heat and ferocity.

Groaning as he finally kissed her properly, sucking him into her mouth, pulling his hair every time his tongue twirled with hers. Pushing against his chest, flattening her breasts under his weight, loving the feeling of him surrounding her, pinning her to the bed.  

Using the hand gripping his hair, she trailed her nails down, over his shoulder blades lightly.  

Increasing the pressure as she moved, tense steely muscles resisted. He flexed, the motion inducing an age-old instinct to thrust. Hooking her leg over his thigh, she met his hips half way. Lucy slipped her hand under his waistband, gripping his buttock and forcing a slow grind that left her thighs shaking in pleasure.

“Naughty girl.” Natsu purred, dipping his hips slightly, allowing her to feel his bulge.

“Do you know why?” His voice was an octave lower, nibbling from her ear down to her throat, he placed open kisses on her pulse. Lucy writhed under him, desperate for attention, he knew her weaknesses and kissing her neck drove her wild, even thinking about it turned her on. Natsu knew it, not above using knowledge of her body to his advantage.

“I said,” Her breath hitched feeling a warm hand cup her breast, “Do”, his finger circled her nipple, “You”, trapping the tip with his thumb, “Know”, she let out a cry as he pinched, “Why?”

The lack of skin contact was maddening, heightening her sensitivity, Natsu always knew how to torture her.

“Left-” Warmth engulfed her nipple through her shirt, sucking her through the cotton fabric as she struggled to make an answer,

“I left.” He bit down at her words, giving a short burst of pain, before soothing the ache with his tongue. Slowly, using his other hand to hook the back of her knee, pushing it towards her chest, her calf resting on his shoulder.

“Yes. You did.”

Pulling away from her breast, he smirked at her soft whine of protest, still lightly massaging her flesh. Instead, sitting back on his knees keeping her leg suspended on his shoulder, he placed soft kisses along her calf.

He glanced up at her underneath hooded eyelids, moss green irises reflected pure sin and vengeance as he smoothed a hand over her inner thigh. Previously, she never would have thought Natsu would be the demon under the sheets. Other than typical male ogling when he saw her naked, he had never shown any interest. It wasn’t until after their first time, she found out the Devil wears Prada.

Or in Natsu’s case, a cheeky grin, and open vests.  

Lucy jolted, her hips vaulting off the bed when he pressed a thumb over her clit. He didn’t move, using the hand that was knocked off her breast to hold her down via her abdomen. The lack of movement was unbearable, instinctively she rocked upwards and yelped. His hand positioned directly above her bladder, applied force whenever she thrust upward. It gave her the unsettling feeling of needing to pass water, but it was also building an amazing pleasure in her core.

A risky game.

Asshole.

“Natsu, you kinky bastard!” She twisted her lips, arching her back.

“Ah ah, Lucy.  I know you love it,” To prove his point, he circled her bud roughly and once again she tried to move with him. Crying out, her eyes rolled back at the beautifully erotic ache swelling inside. Moving on autopilot, she shoved her shirt and bra up, clutching onto her breasts creating her own pleasure.

“When you disappeared, I searched the entire house for clues,” Forest eyes held hers, his thumb following her cleft downward, the drenched fabric of her panties allowing smooth movement,

“I came across some interesting books in your drawers…”

Oh no, he didn’t!

“Heh, you know what I’m talking about.’

Lucy wailed as he pushed into her entrance, the fabric pulling tightly over her clit as he continued, voice almost bored if it wasn’t piqued with lust, “I think you’ve been holding out on me.”

Stretching her panties to the side, Natsu inhaled deeply, sighing in contentment.

“Look at you, so red, so pretty.” Lucy pinched her nipples to distract herself from the anticipation. Fingertips ghosted over her mound, she could barely feel it but it still caused a shiver to roll over her skin.

“It’s my favourite colour,” His eyes fixating on the prize he was about to indulge in flickered to hers, the lazy smile on his lips was deceptive. Natsu’s moss green depths were promising she would scream.

“…Especially on you.” Two digits started circling her hole, never entering, smearing her natural lubrication upward occasionally. The ache building to an unbearable level had her straining against the hand holding her down. Pressure in her abdomen, plus teasing caresses had her insides clenching harshly. Her other leg flailing as the sensation accumulated.

“Oh, my god. Natsu, please!” She begged, thrashing just a little.

“Since you asked so nicely…” He chuckled softly, but he still didn’t do what she wanted, for him to fill her.  Instead, he started teasing her clit with light touches, interchanging from a circling motion to flicking.  Arching her back, she let out a strangled moan.

She didn’t think she could get any more sensitive. It didn’t help she hadn’t had a proper orgasm in a year. Hadn’t felt his touch for too long.  

“Mmm, you have such a pretty pussy, so swollen and wet.” Husky and deep, his voice made her body tense and move, burning with desire for him.

“Your clit is so distended right now, asking for attention…” Natsu leant over her body, a hand pushing her head up to meet his, their foreheads touching not obstructing her view of his work.

“If I pinched it right now, would you cum Lucy?” Too overcome to say anything she stayed silent but apparently, that was a bad idea because his finger slid up, making her hips jolt.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.” He kissed her forehead tenderly before he made true on his suggestion. Trapping her bud between thumb and finger, he used them as a clamp, lightly pinching. Screaming, Lucy felt like her nerve endings were exploding in her groin, pain and pleasure causing tremors over her skin.

“I can’t, I can’t-” She managed to swat his hand away from her clit, Natsu was quick on his next attack. His hand returned to her stomach, he plunged two fingers deep inside, curling up to her sweet spot.

“It’s not over yet.” Lucy choked, saliva filling her mouth, as he moved his fingers continuously over her g-spot. The sloshing sounds from his moving fingers were deliciously lewd to her ears, as he forced her into another orgasm.  Eyes rolling into the back of her head, she felt her muscles contract, her heart rate soar, and she grabbed onto the bedsheets for support.

Claiming her mouth as she moaned, Natsu pulled his erection from his pants. Swirling the warmth of his tongue over hers, she could feel him starting to enter. Drowning in his scent and loving the feeling of being intimate once again, his penetration was slow. She could feel his heat, his high body temperature making her toes curl. As he pushed forward her hand shot out, stopping his progress temporarily.

“It’s been awhile, it hurts,” Lucy growled at his smug-ass grin, glaring at him.

“Too big for ya Luce?”

“Shut up.” She shot back with a small pout, letting out an embarrassing squeal when he rolled them over. Gasping as gravity sunk her further down onto his cock, the new position making it easier to adjust. Under no illusions that he was handing over the reins, feeling his grip on her ass and his knees rising behind her. Rocking gently, feeling his girth stretching her walls, she leant forward bracing herself on his chest.

Nose to nose, she stared into his forest depths falling deeper into a haze.

Strapping muscles contracted under her weight as he started moving, meeting her halfway.

There was nothing feminine about Natsu other than his sakura coloured hair, his body solid, masculine, moulded through rigorous training and dragon/demon entities inside. An aura of danger and adventure surrounded Natsu, it’s what attracted her to him all those years ago. 

Even now she was still craving the thrill and how empowered she felt at his side. Arching her back, the friction on her aching nipples caused her lean into the hand kneading her ass. Her denim skirt rucking up above her creamy buttocks served as a turn on. Lucy would never tell, but role playing was a huge turn on.

She felt like a salacious schoolgirl. The feeling of his fingers gripping the skin close to where she wanted him was making her needy.

Warmth engulfed her nipple, playfully taking it between his teeth and sucking sporadically. Gripping his hair to pull him forward, she didn’t consider she had given up leverage. Wicked eyes met hers, locking his arms around her waist and digging his feet into the mattress. Natsu pistoned upwards his cock hitting the right spot, proving he still remembered how to drive her insane. A swift smack on her ass made her grind down, his tip hitting her cervix.

“Natsu!” A mixture of pain and pleasure had her pussy clamping down, feeling the ridges of his shaft as he forced his way in. His mouth switched breast to suck harshly on her neglected nipple, thrusting deep.

“I, I can’t-”

“You keep saying that,” Slowly gyrating in a manner that stroked her clit, his tongue leaving her nipple, pinching the other, rolling the nub between his fingers, “But you can.”

He pulled out leaving his tip resting at her entrance before plunging back in, bottoming out. Lucy bit into his shoulder, feeling the need to place a mark of her own. Breathing in the smell of sweat and sex as he continued, feeling her clit throbbing with need.

Oh, she was so close.

Natsu slid his hand down to trace the skin where they joined, her legs instinctively tried to close as slid in two fingers alongside his dick, fondling her clit with every stroke.

“Such a hungry pussy.” Natsu’s gravelly voice and the feeling of being delectably full sent her careening into a powerful climax.  Nails digging into the sinewy muscle of his biceps, her lips sought his. Mouths dancing in a languid exchange of tongue, her eyes focused Natsu’s as she felt the heat of his release filling her.

Lying on Natsu’s chest, head tucked under his chin, she traced the Fairy Tail emblem. The silence wasn’t awkward, they basked in a serene peace. Sighing she enjoyed the soothing caresses on her scalp, Natsu wasn’t capable of doing nothing. He was always fidgeting or moving, and at times like this, she greatly appreciated it.

“That was quite the welcome home.” She said softly.

Honestly, she didn’t expect anything less from her hell raiser of a boyfriend.

“I still haven’t forgiven you yet,” He quipped, his eyes glinting as he continued, “We still have lost time to make up for.”

“You left me as well!” She argued with a pout, and he smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I know,” He shrugged it off, now stroking the base of her neck, “We’ll make up for that too.”

Lucy liked this plan.

[triple-sight-firebug]

Shamhna➳ Hylomancer ▲ Quick-Tempered - Intimidating - Caring "Plants have lived on more than any dragon will." NAME MEANING - Irish Gaelic for Halloween Note: Pronounced (hau-MIN-ah) Mated to: Hallowfall Extended Family: Oiche (Adoptive Son) Muerto of Clan Ton Theon (Adoptive Son) Bio - Shamhna was once a rogue Nature dragon with overly aggressive powers. While others in the Viridian Labyrinth would create flowers or trees, she created thornbushes and poison ivy. This caused her to become distant and ill-tempered, she would roar and grow monstrous flora that would attack anything that they could touch. Soon, she found herself in the Windswept Plateau, where she made herself a small lair. It was nice enough. She flew up high in a great, craggy area where no one would dare to intrude. Though, there was the occasional lantern. Shamhna didn't mind that, in fact she thought them a nice splash of colour among the stones. One day, while many were breezing by, she heard a strange squalling. It wasn't a harpy or any sort of bird, she was sure, so in her search she saw one lantern batting about. A small Imperial hatchling was tangled up in one that just so happened to be slowly floating down to the cloud cover, where horrible gales and sharp rocks would tear up the lower floating lanterns. Immediately, Shamhna bolted from her perch, her need to protect stronger than the few times it had ever been before. She zipped down to the lantern, snatched the little Imperial up, and carried him away to her little cave. She untangled him and inspected them for any sort of injuries. The little one seemed well enough, in fact, he thought this as a sort of game. Relieved, she created a sugarmelon for him to eat and allowed him to stay in her den for the night. She searched and searched for the child's parents, but no one could help, No one recognized his scent. Shamhna couldn't just leave this little baby alone. So, she finally had company in the first time in a long time. She named him Oiche and claimed him as her own. They left the Windswept Plateau and traveled across Sorienth, traversing through Water, Fire, Plague, and Shadow. Months passed. Shamhna was beginning to get weary, Oiche sickly. She was sitting at the Scarred Wasteland - Starfall Isles border thinking about taking him back to Plague, where so many of the best healers resided, but thought twice due to the Serthis that attacked them not too long ago. She thought if she ventured farther into Arcane, she would lose them, but they stalked her further. In the Star Wood Strand, she thought she shook them off her trail, but as soon as she let her guard down, she was attacked. Oiche was thrown from her grasp and bleating miserably. The Serthis left her dazed and confused unable to see correctly. She prayed that they would at least show Oiche mercy. She heard crashing. The Serthis directed their attention to the cause of it, leaving her be. As her mind started to sort itself out, roars and blasts could be heard. Before she could raise her head, she could feel someone heaving her to her feet - a Coatl and a Guardian in Filigree Armour were dragging her away. Shamhna groggily called Oiche's name as she was heaved onto a soft surface, her last memory before losing consciousness. She awoke the next day, and began to search for Oiche, though it didn't take long as he slept soundly on a stone tablet covered with cool moss not a few feet away from her. A Snapper walked in and began to check her injuries. The stout dragon told her where she was and said that as soon as she and Oiche were well again, they would be free to leave. Shamhna was not happy at first. But after feeling so welcome despite her odd powers for the first time in her life and seeing how much fun Oiche had with the other hatchlings, she decided to stay. King Hveorungr called upon her one day, asking her to help him defend the surrounding area of the Clan. She grew sharp brambles, thick vines that would grab and strangle all that were not welcome. Shamhna found that her charge was not Oiche, but all dragons inside her shield of deadly foliage. Soon, Shamhna found deeper friendship in Hallowfall, a Coatl that was more social to her than other members of Clan Stjerneklart. Oiche began to speak, picking up on words such as 'Mommy' and 'Windy.' But only when Hallowfall was around, would he say 'Daddy.' The two began to grow closer romantically than platonically, and they soon became loving mates. As a gift, they gave each other boar guardians from the Rainsong Forest. Splinter for Shamhna, Necrosis for Hallowfall. (The above part of the bio was written by StardragonSalem, Shamhna’s previous owner) *** Years passed and Shamhna lived peacefully in Clan Stjerneklart. She was content with the company of her mate, Hallowfall and didn’t need to worry much about protecting her charge. Her adoptive sons Oiche and Muerto were doing well and were happy. She could have lived a thousand more years like this. Until she felt the stirrings of change inside of her. She felt something calling for her far across Sornieth, where trees grew miles high into the sky and where Wildclaw packs frequented. She felt the calling for her homeland, the Viridian Labyrinth. But she couldn’t leave. Her home and Charge was here in the Starfall Isles. She tried to suppress her calling, and each day she did the more miserable she became. Hallowfall noticed and asked her what was wrong, so she confessed the feeling she had. And Hallowfall told her to answer it. She responded that she didn’t want to leave him or her Charge. Hallowfall said that he would be fine, and that he’d look after her Charge as she traveled. But as Shamhna thought about parting with her Charge, she realized she no longer felt an attachment toward it. Was it possible it wasn’t her Charge after all? Could a Guardian’s Charge change? Perhaps she had a new Charge now, and that was why her homeland was calling for her. There was only one way to find out. She said goodbye to Hallowfall and the rest of the clan and began her journey into the unknown. The closer she traveled to the Labyrinth, the more intense her Charge feelings became. She was brought to the border of the Shrieking Wilds and the Gladeveines. The roots of an ancient tree called to her, a green light glowed from below. She slipped through the roots, where a small cavern was under the tree. Four green stones gave off the green lighting. One stone had a thornbush engraved in it. Another had an apple, the third had a tree and the fourth had a rose. Curled up beside the stones was a parchment written in an ancient language, Shamhna only recognized from her many years of reading the Stjerneklartian library. The scroll explained that each of the stones contained magic from the Four Maidens of Nature. The Maidens of Nature were four dragons blessed by the Gladekeeper to have outstanding magic. Each specialized in the growth of certain plants and represented certain aspects of Life. There was the Maiden of Heart, who used her emotions to keep her in touch with her powers and who could grow forests of thorns and other spikey plants to defend the homes of dragons. There was the Maiden of Mind who used her logical thinking to modify plants into crops that could feed hundreds of mouths. There was the Maiden of Body who was so strong she could topple even the tallest of trees with her bare claws. She would use this lumber to create shelters for dragons in need and use her magic to quickly grow a new tree in the place of the one she toppled. And there was the Maiden of Soul who had a charismatic personality to gained the Maidens several allies and friends. She could grow flowers with every footstep. The Maidens helped make the Viridian Labyrinth into a more welcoming place for dragons, and they became somewhat into folk heros. As time passed they became legends and even gos for some. But them one day they disappeared and so did any knowledge of them. Shamhna felt strong Charge instincts towards these stones like she had never felt before. They were now hers to protect. But when she reached for the thornbush one, it had attached itself to her chest, and embedded itself into her skin. It did not hurt, but she could feel it’s magic coursing through her. Shamhna had become the next Maiden of Heart. And she knew it was up to her to find the other Maidens too. So Shamhna searched far and wide. It took months, but eventually she had found three other dragons who the stones bonded to. She had found her other Maidens. Shamhna became the leader of the others and decided to form her own clan with them in the Labyrinth Shamhna named her new clan Clan Destinesia.