#Bushy Eyebrowed creature

[silentsenior09]

Today we tackle the boss of World 3 - Naval Piranha

[bumblingbabooshka]

She's literally in an old school monster movie

[deunmiu-dessie]

a paralysis demon plays with you at night, this time you're finally awake to see it.

you're not sure how it started. just that one day it did.

you'd wake up with sticky inner thighs and ruined sheets; the familiar pulsing of your clit, begging for attention almost overwhelming, and your muscles ached as if you had run a marathon the day before. tentatively you'd dip your hand into your panties, nimble fingers finding the hood of your engorged clit, eyebrows pulling together at the almost painful feeling it brought; then they'd drift lower, immediately sinking into creamy, wetness that pooled from your entrance and smeared your labia.

this perverse ritual had become your waking nightmare, weeks upon weeks of waking up to ruined panties and an insatiable hunger that couldn't be sated alone. frustration and tears intertwine, as your lithe fingers desperately caress and coax your clit but to no avail. it'd leave you cranky most days and unapproachable the rest.

what the hell was happening? at first, you believed it to be mere wet dreams, lost in the recesses of your mind. but the inability to find release, even with your touch or the mechanical hum of a vibrator, defied all reason. your sanity teetered on the edge, the constant ache and unrelenting wetness between your thighs, the demands of university, and the grueling hours at the fast-paced coffee shop on campus only exacerbate your torment.

breathe; you had told yourself. you just needed a day to sleep, in order to get back into the groove of your usual hectic life. and so, you make the decision to abandon your responsibilities, forsaking work and classes, seeking solace within the confines of your bed.

but that day you saw it.

as the night grew later, you found yourself slipping in and out of consciousness, struggling to keep your eyes open, you clung to the last shreds of wakefulness, determined to finish the movie that had lured you in with its promises of thrills and chills. the laptop, perched on your chest, emitted a faint glow, casting eerie shadows across the room. but despite your best efforts, the battle was futile. with a heavy sigh, you surrendered, closing the laptop and setting it aside.

that should've been it, you should have gone to sleep and woken up the next morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, no longer raging and horny, stressed and tired— just your normal self. yet, as if possessed by an unseen force, your eyes snap open, jolting your mind from the peaceful slumber you had so eagerly embraced, but not your body.

the room was cloaked in darkness, save for the feeble glow of a night light by the door. the time couldn't have been later than two in the morning, leaving you with ample hours until you needed to start getting ready for the day…so why were you up?

grunting you attempt to reach across to your desk and grab your water bottle, your throat suddenly dry and scratchy. but you couldn't move. in fact, your whole body felt numb, as if you'd been submerged in an ice-cold lake. you could feel the hair on your arms standing on end, your heart thumping painfully in your ribcage, desperate to escape from your chest and out the window just above your bed. frantic, your eyes darted around your room, flitting over the darkened corners and further on before subconsciously gazing upwards. it gazed back at you.

it was inky black, as if a void had materialized on your ceiling. barren of any discernible features, a foreboding presence emanated from it, sending chills down your spine. its limbs, neck, and torso twisted unnaturally, giving it a grotesque and elongated appearance. tears welled up in your eyes upon witnessing it, and you attempted to scream, only to find your mouth was sealed as if stitched with needle and thread.

the creature descended from above with erratic movements, settling above your figure and menacingly bringing its face closer to yours. this couldn't be happening, it must be a dream and in a desperate attempt to escape, you tightly shut your eyes and began counting backward from ten, gasping for air with each haggard breath.

however, a phantom graze on your thigh startles your eyes open. the creature was still there, its taloned, inky black hand slowly trailing along your clammy skin. even without a face, you could feel its gaze upon you, sinister and scheming. swallowing thickly, goosebumps follow in the wake of its touch, like tiny flames igniting your skin.

and almost as if accustomed to its advances, your body ignites with a dizzying heat, pussy weeping and your clit throbbing eagerly, readily despite your heart skipping and restarting all in one second with fear. its touch is tantalizing and deliberate, momentarily vanishing underneath your oversized night-shirt before returning to the heat of your thighs, talons pricking your flesh.

the creature's game finally comes to an end as it finds your fattened clit, which eagerly presses against the fabric of your panties, craving any form of touch. its assault is steady but firm and the touch immediately sets you off. your body, needy from weeks of being unable to orgasm, finally reaches its limit. you can feel the knot tightening in your tummy, a sharp, zinging pain in your lower abdomen, and the tensing of your thighs.

however, just as you approach your climax, the creature abruptly stops, shifting its touch to your slick inner thighs, face pressing closer to yours, leering and mocking. without the constant stimulation, your orgasm subsides, leaving you with a throbbing ache in your hips, cunt drooling with your arousal profusely.

your eyebrows cinch together, tears staining your cheeks before you're hit with a realization. the constant feeling of never being satisfied and not being able to cum, was because of this…creature.

its pitch-black visage suddenly splits into a sinister grin, revealing rows of serrated teeth gleaming with viscid, thick saliva. its voice is otherwordly deep, it's guttural, and raspy; fingers returning deftly to your clit to rub circles. "do you remember now?"

[edges-of-night]

Hello, hope this message finds you well! I would like to request (if the idea interests you of course) the fellowship responding to the reader asking “would you still love me if I was a worm/toad?”

What an inspired idea, anon haha! This one was fun to think about; hopefully it’s just as much fun to read! Enjoy ♡

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Even though you asked him out of nowhere, Aragorn considers your questions rather seriously. Sitting by a fire with you, it takes him a while to answer: “Why wouldn’t I?” It should’ve been obvious to you that a ranger – and one as kind and gentle-hearted as him! – would naturally see beauty in every creature, no matter its general reputation. To him, it’s not a question.

.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir would shoot you a confused smile when you asked him your question. “What? Why would you turn into a worm…?” You’d blush and explain it to him, which would make him laugh in relief. “Why worry about such nonsense?” – “What, me turning into a worm?” – “No, silly! Me not loving you!” he’d say and pull you close for a kiss ♡ (He’d probably still worry about the sudden question because he cares for you that much haha!)

.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

When you ask Frodo your question, it catches him off-guard. He’d look up from his book and ask you to repeat, even though he was already listening carefully. But the question has him double-checking! Your adorable explanation makes him laugh. He’d take your hands and say, “The things you think about! If you ever manage to turn yourself into a worm, you must turn me as well, so that we may live happy lives in our worm-house underground.”

.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf smokes his pipe when you ask him your question and smacks his lips as he contemplates the scenario. “A curious proposition…” For a moment, the furrow of his bushy eyebrows makes it look like he was about to scold you for your nonsense, but then he’d shoot you a playful smirk and assure you that yes, if you were to turn into a worm, he would still love you all the same.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

You ask Gimli your question at a late-night banquet, making him pause and laugh. “I do not know if a worm would want to live in stone though! Wouldn’t you leave for grassier, muddier grounds? What would a worm want with a Dwarf?” Just like that, he has turned your question around! The ensuing nonsense conversation makes it certain: The two of you are inseparable ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas is a very playful Elf and enjoys the games and riddles you two tend to play, so your question would not come entirely out of the blue for him. He would tilt his head and pout, pretending to consider it gravely. “A worm? A creature so foul and tiny and all too disagreeable?” – his face splits into a grin – “Why yes, of course!” Additionally, he’d incorporate “little worm” into his endless list of pet names for you.

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Your question to Merry would probably come up during one of your philosophical conversations. But instead of stopping Merry dead in his tracks, he’d simply answer, “Yes, next question.” To him, it genuinely is not up for debate if changing your appearance would impact his feelings for you. When you dig deeper, he’d probably say something like, “I’d have to get used to it, but that’s it” and grin at you.

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Let’s be honest: The question would probably come from Pippin in the first place. Maybe he had watched a worm or a toad travelling through a meadow nearby, or even overheard other Hobbits asking their partner about the dreaded scenario. He keeps wondering if he’d still be lovable as a worm but leaves no doubt should that fate befall you: This Hobbit loves you to the moon and back!

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

No contest: Sam Gamgee wins this one by a mile. When you ask him, no matter how unsurely, he’d cross his arms with a thoughtful sigh and start his answer by explaining how important worms are in the circle of nature to keep the ground and gardens alive. “And that’s just that, y’know? I don’t have to find ‘em beautiful, but I’d simply be lost without them. And if it was you, oh, y’know, there’d be no question about it. I’d tinker with a bit of wood to make you an indoor garden, so you have some dirt to crawl in even when we’re inside the house. Something I can carry around. And somethin’ to eat. Unless you don’t want to. I’d bring you the good dirt from Farmer Maggot, and some apples, too. Your favourite flowers must be there too, so that’s – hm? What’re smilin’ at me like that for? You asked the question…”

[amerricanartwork]

Whoa, what's that amongst the thicket?

It's a fox! Though it looks quite different from most foxes I've seen. But I'd never miss that long, bushy tail!

Oh, I think she's noticed me! Perhaps should be a bit more careful before she runs away!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Here's a new needle felted critter I finished recently, whom I've personally decided to call Umbra! After finishing the collie, I knew I had to try making a fluffy fox! Since I was working on this in October, I figured I'd also do a cross color morph rather than the standard red fox so it could match the spirit of Halloween with its black and orange color, although it did take me 2 tries to get the face right with how dark it is. Unfortunately I didn't manage to post it before the month ended, but that doesn't mean I won't still share it now!

Now that I'm more confident with making stylized faces, I also tried to experiment a bit more with the face itself, trying to create a slightly different expression with the eyes and eyebrows. I later decided to pose it a little to give it even more personality.

Going forward, I'm hoping to make some more long-furred creatures, likely winter-themed ones for the upcoming winter holiday season. I've also got some orange shades of wool on the way, so hopefully I'll be able to make more brightly-colored red foxes soon. But for now, I hope you like this shady, yet soft little fox!

[louloulover]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ℌ𝔬𝔤𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔇ℜ★

I have changed some things for my own enjoyment, the history is made up. I haven't changed the original story of harry potter. I simply added my own things. ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

｡･:*:･ﾟ★〘ℌ𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣〙

☘Family Magic - Rune's father has been on the earth for more than a thousand years, back in history Vikings were users of a ancient magic. The real magic of the world, They danced, sang and used magic one with themselves. The magic could only be passed on through blood. But as the Vikings fought and the people slowly decreased in the world. So did their true blood. Leaving Rune's father to be the last true blood user. The magic can be passed on, but memories will be passed on. Memories come from ancestors. The magic used in todays world isn't the same, nothing as powerful.

☘Parents - His father was one of the Heads of the people, he went into hiding once they were all gone. Rune's mother is a Russian hairdresser. They were brought back to Scandinavia so Rune could be with his people and learn magic from his father. But once his father gave Rune all of his power he was gone. Rune and his mother moved back to Russia. His mother is knowing for being the best hairdresser for muggles and wizards. His mother possesses regular magic.

☘Runes magic - Although Rune isn't full blood his father transferred all his magic and being. So Rune is the strongest being, who can shape nature and anything he chooses. He doesn't use a wand, he can but he doesn't have to. He uses his body.

»»───※ ·ℜ𝔲𝔫𝔢·ℌ𝔢/ℌ𝔦𝔪· ※───►

Rune has knowledge of all his ancestors, the magical runes that cover his every inch of his body shows how powerful he is. ₊˚⊹☾

★Important - He can take away his tattoos simply, but the rune his father put on his back stays. It shows the magic has been passed down.

★Features - Rune possess dark black hair, green like the earth eyes. Eyebrows like his father, big bushy and angled down. When he smiles it is a smirk, sharp canines show from his mouth. A piercing on his left ear, a hoop stays there.

★Body - 6'2''. He is fit, and very tall. Not as tall as the twins. He gives off confidence and pride. (Harry Potter Tyler Durden lmaoo)

★Animal - Rune owns a Crow, connected with his ancestors it is his messenger 'owl'. He also owns a dog at school, (my dog from here) instead of other pets.

★Outfits - He wears colors, often crazy color schemes but somehow works? he walks in a robe or just underwear in his shared room. You will never catch him only wearing black.

its hard to find images of crazy guy outfits, so imagine them with weird color combos ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

➶ ｡˚ °》𝑾𝒉𝒚 𝒂𝒎 𝑰 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆? 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒎 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈?《✧ ˚ 　· 　　

＞Honestly, i just want to have fun. That's why I gave myself such power. I don't want to deal with classes or sticking to a schedule. I want to go here for fun with friends, flying and of course the creatures. I want to see them all, fly with them, feel them.

✦ » 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑹𝒖𝒏𝒆? « ✦

＞He was asked by Dumbledore (6th movie) to come protect his school, he knew something was going to come up this year. He has been trying to find Rune but it toke him years, and having to talk to the Merlin to even get to me.

(yes Merlin's going to be the Merlin from the show Merlin.)⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

＞He agreed if he has freedom to do what he pleases, so really he is just to hang around the school. Allowed to enter wherever and whenever. You may see him on top of the highest part of Hogwarts watching the stars, napping on furniture in the halls, playing with his dog in the fields, and throwing items at quidditch players while they practice. || He is still keeping the school protected as he does so ||

Oh and of course hanging out with his brother Casimir..

˚୨୧⋆｡This post toke so long omg, I would love to hear of other people's dr's or even link your scripts in the comments if you want! C:

I'm going to make a post of the other characters in Hogwarts, as I've added some characters. The link will be posted below this once its made!

[ggebba]

In Russia, Halloween is new and is more like a theme party than the original meaning of that day. This is due to the fact that in Russia there are still many traditions left from the times of paganism. Ghosts and similar evil things are not new to Russia, but Slavic mythology is more widespread here. People from Slavic nations believe more in spirits than in ghosts.

Today's post will be dedicated to the creatures and spirits of Slavic mythology.

Viy kills people and turns towns and villages to ashes with a single glance. Fortunately, his murderous gaze is covered by bushy eyebrows and eyelids close to the eyes, and only when it is necessary to destroy enemy troops or set fire to an enemy city, his eyelids are raised with pitchforks. He was believed to be a judge over the dead. Slavs could never reconcile with the fact that those who lived lawlessly, not according to conscience - not punished. The Slavs believed that the place of execution of the lawless was inside the earth. Viy is also associated with the seasonal death of nature during winter. He was revered as an enforcer of nightmares, visions and ghosts, especially for those who did not have a clear conscience.

Babai is a mysterious Slavic creature in the form of an old man who scares children. In the beliefs of the northern regions of Russia, Babai is a scary, crooked old man. He wanders the streets with a stick. Meeting him is dangerous, especially for children.

Zhikhar is a house evil spirit. It is not known exactly where he lives in the house, but he is a dangerous settler: in the absence of mothers he steals children from the cradle, but in the presence of mothers he does not dare to do it. If the mother has to leave the house, in order to protect the child from the Zikhar, they put a pair of scissors and a spindle.

Domovoi is in Slavic peoples home spirit, mythological master and patron of the house, ensuring the normal life of the family, fertility, health of people and animals.

If Domovoi loves the household, he warns of misfortune, guards the house and yard; otherwise he beats and bangs dishes, shouts, stomps and so on. If he loves someone, he curls his hair and beard into braids, and if he does not love someone, he pinches him to the point of bruising at night.

Domovoi is a clot of invisible energy. Depending on the contamination of the apartment, he is either a positive creature that brings benefit, or a negative subject, from which the harm is solid. He monitors the cleanliness of housing. Unlike a person, he sees all the energy garbage scattered throughout the apartment, and he is very upset by it.

In the same way, Domovoi are friends with cats. Cats see and feel intangible and elementary things that are beyond the human eye. Domovoi loves animals and is often friends with them. Moreover, if the owners offend and torture animals, Domovoi can curse them for 7 years of misfortunes and troubles. It is better to be friends with the Domovoi 😌

Kikimora is an evil spirit . A small woman. Kikimora called unbaptized or cursed in infancy by their mothers' daughters, who are carried away by devils, and sorcerers put to someone in the house. Kikimora confuses yarn and steals small children. The kikimora likes to make mischief in the house, rattles dishes, spoils bread, burns pies.

Ovinnik is in Slavic mythology, a spirit dwelling in the ovine (threshing floor). He does not go into the house, because there lives the Domovoi, who is stronger than Ovinnik. In general, Ovinnik has a very complex character, it is not easy to placate him, and in general he is quite hostile to man.

Chyort is a terrifying spirit of the forest. Black, with horns, tail and hooves. He lives in forests, swamps and abandoned houses. The main purpose of Chyort is to tempt a man, to push him to bad deeds, to incline him to laziness, greed and other vices and sins.

Shish is an unclean force that usually lives on the roadsides and has weddings there (dusty pools). Its head is like a fist, its nose is long and fidgety - in short, it looks like a dummy. They are torments drunks who are drunk to the point of white fever.

Vodyanoy in Slavic mythology has always been considered as the Master of the Sea. He dwells at the bottom, commands the aquatic inhabitants, including mermaids, and herds schools of fish. Vodyanoy can be found in the pools or under the watermill.

Vodyanoy in its essence is not an aggressive spirit, but drag to his kingdom in the realm of a hesitant person can. He does this solely for the purpose of amusement. Most often Vodyanoy appears in the form of an old man with bulging eyes and a fish tail. Beard and mustache entangled with tina and cast a green color. In some cases, he can turn into anyone - either a fish of incredible size or a human. When Vodyanoy is angry, he can destroy dams, and in such cases an animal is sacrificed to assuage his anger.

Shishiga is a small, hunchbacked creature, gutless, cold, with knotted hands. It pounces on stray passers-by and drags them into the water. Unlike the well-known Vodyanoy, Shishiga lives in reeds and prefers small rivers and water bodies. It sleeps during the day and appears only at dusk.

Beregini Slavs called air maidens, who protected people from evil spirits and other evil.

Slavs believed that the beregins were attached to the human dwelling and that they protected the inhabitants of the house. They were also credited with the ability to predict the future. In addition, beregini often saved small children left unattended near a body of water.

Leshiy is a forest spirit. He is the master of the forest, and everything obeys his rules. Leshiy prefers to live in spruce forests, loves to sing loudly and walks through the forests at a very high speed.

Leshiy do not have the purpose to do a person any harm, they rather joke, just jokes they get evil and rude. Like, they will lead a person into a swamp, then the fog in the eyes to put on. However, it is easy to get rid of the fog, it is enough to change the places of shoes on the right and left feet, or to wear clothes turned inside out.

Polevik. In Russian mythology, a kind of Undead, one of the few subspecies of unclean force that does its evil deeds not at night, but in broad daylight. If he's angry, a worker can get sunstroke during haymaking season.

Polevik in a good mood helps to save people’s house or the field from fire.

Upir is a Slavic werewolf, the spirit of a deceased witch, wandering at night as a wolf or flying scarecrow and sucking blood from people and livestock. To appease them, they tear up the grave and pierce the corpse with an aspen stake.

And a constant character of all Russian folk tales and stories, personally my favorite, Baba Yaga.

In almost all magical Slavic fairy tales there is an image of Baba Yaga. This old woman lives in the forest, in a hut on chicken legs, surrounded by a fence of human bones. Yaga moves with the help of a stupa and a broomstick and often goes out "to the people", steals cattle from peasants, and even babies, and generally harms in every possible way.

Despite the badness of her character, Baba Yaga is shrewd and wise. It is useful to be friends with her, but dangerous to be enemies with her.

In Slavic mythology, Baba-Yaga was the deity of death.

Death can be treated differently. But one thing is clear - it is inevitable. As inevitable is the meeting of a traveler wandering through the forest with Baba Yaga, waiting for him in a hut on chicken legs, surrounded by a palisade of human bones.

And that's the end of the story 😊

“Вот и сказки конец. А кто слушал - молодец!”

[sleepie-birdie]

Monsieur Knight

Rating: Gen Summary: A dashing knight dares to save the trapped princess from the clutches of a vile dragon.

As I, the illustrious and indomitable Monsieur Filibert the Magnificent rode forth upon my noble steed, Dame Blanc, the very earth trembled beneath the weight of my valor as sand marked my travels in its golden glow.  Its bright hue was almost as valiant as my task. What is my mission, you ask? To liberate the fair Princess Furina from the clutches of a fearsome dragon that had plagued the land for centuries, of course! Who else but I, the epitome of chivalry and gallantry, the most dashing in the land could undertake such a perilous quest and win the heart of the fair maiden? A maiden I have seen from afar months ago. With her delicate hand pressed against her delicate brow, she heaved a dainty sigh at her plight. I knew then what I must do. A woman so beautiful, so kind, that was worthy to stand next to someone such as me. 

With my sword in hand and the sun beating upon my broad manly back, I the esteemed and unrivaled Monsieur Filibert the Unyielding, ventured forth into the quaint little town on the outskirts of the kingdom for Fontaine I could feel the weight of their gazes upon me as I strut to town. Oh yes, the good people of this hamlet had no doubt heard of my valiant quest to vanquish the dragon and rescue the fair Princess Furina. Yet, instead of the admiration and awe I had grown accustomed to, I was met with... incredulity. Nay, it could not be! Perhaps these natives know not the language on my tongue? For why else would they shake their head when I divulge to them my noble calling? Or perhaps this is their earnest attempt to save me from what they assume is my untimely demise.

These sweet citizens need not fear, for I am the best there is. The top of my rotation, the titled knight crowned by the gods themselves! A mere dragon will not kill me. No. It is his fate to die! Undeterred by the skeptical glances and murmurs that followed in my wake, I strode through the cobblestone streets with all the confidence befitting a knight of my caliber. "Fear not, good people!" I proclaimed, my voice ringing out like a lion’s roar. "For I, Knight Filibert the Fearless shall rid your lands of the dreaded dragon that plagues you and your beautiful princess!" But instead of cheers and applause, all I received were raised eyebrows and exchanged glances. Puzzled, I forged ahead, convinced that my noble cause would surely win over the hearts of these simple folk. Their poor hearts must have been clouded by their worry.

As I approached the local stall, I was met with a sight that nearly gave me pause. The innkeeper, a burly fellow with a bushy beard, regarded me with a mixture of amusement and concern. "Sir Knight," he said, his tone laced with a hint of skepticism, "are you quite sure about this... mission of yours?"

"Of course, good sir! Fret not for my safety." I replied, clapping him on the back with a hearty thud. "Why, it is my sworn duty to protect the kingdom and its fair maidens from all manner of perilous beasts!"

The storekeeper exchanged a knowing glance with his wife, who shook her head in disbelief. "Very well, Sir Knight," he said with a shrug, "but I must warn you, no one has ever returned from the dragon's tower without a harrowing tale to share." 

These sweet souls! “No creature, no matter how fearsome, shall stand in the way of my quest!”

“It’s not the dragon you need to fear.” The man’s wife muttered. My brow rose.

“Ah, are there perhaps traps?” I was trained to best them!

“Ye can say something like that.”

“Then no trap shall best me. For I have labored intensively beneath the tutelage of Archduke Barthmeow the Excellent, my skill and agility know no bounds. For I am the great wind.”

With a hearty chuckle, I bid adieu to the skeptical couple, their doubts no match for the radiance of my noble spirit. With every stride of my steed and every glint of my armor, I forged ahead, my heart brimming with determination and my head held so high I feared it might scrape the sky! For I, the one and only Sir Filibert, the Unwavering had a dragon to tickle and a princess to rescue, and not even the wildest doubts of a few misguided peasants could dampen my fiery resolve!

And so, before long, my trusty mount had whisked me away to the dark and eerie forest of Erryines. Why, you might ask? Because nestled within its twisted embrace lay the very tower where our fair maiden was imprisoned! The dastardly dragon had sequestered the princess by a lake, no doubt hoping to keep her from the world's gaze. But fear not, for where others saw darkness, I saw the opportunity for valor! As I ventured deeper into the forest, the dappled sunlight filtering through the emerald canopy above, I couldn't help but marvel at the tranquility that surrounded me. The gentle rustle of leaves, the melodic chirping of birds - surely, these woodland creatures recognized the presence of a true hero in their midst and bowed to my unmatched prowess.

At long last, I reached the edge of the lake, the calm waters mirroring the azure sky above. There, standing tall and foreboding against the horizon, was the dragon's tower. Its ancient stones seemed to groan with malice, warning any foolish enough to approach. But I, Sir Filibert the Unflinching, was not one to heed warnings - for my courage was a blazing fire that consumed all doubt in its path! With a steely glint in my eye and Dame Blanc snorting with determination beneath me, I urged her forward toward the tower.

As we drew nearer, a sudden movement caught my eye - a glimmer of white scales and a glow of blue mane. It was the dragon! It emerged from the shadows of the tower, its massive form casting a daunting shadow over the landscape. But I did not falter. With a swift flourish of my sword, I called out to the beast in a voice that rang out like thunder.

"FOUL MONSTER! I demand you release your maiden captive and face me like a man!”

The beast eyed me, its amethyst eyes glowed with malice.

“Begone human, there is no maiden that needs saving here.” It huffed at me a watery plume which I dodged with utmost grace.

“Wretched creature. I believe not your utter lies.” The beast dared snort at me.

Undeterred by the dragon's dismissive attitude, I squared my shoulders and raised my sword high, the light glinting off its finely honed blade.

"I care not for your trickery, foul, ugly, beast! For I have seen the tears of the fair Princess Furina and heard her cries for freedom. It is I, Sir Filibert the Valiant, who shall vanquish you and set her free and win her hand!"

The dragon let out a low rumble, its eyes narrowing in an icy glare that sent shivers down my spine. But I stood my ground, unwavering in my resolve to rescue the princess and bring justice to this cursed land.

Just as the tension between us reached its peak, a melodious voice rang out from the top of the tower. All eyes turned to behold the sight of Princess Furina herself, her pale hair cascading like a waterfall down her svelte form.

"Cease this senseless quarrel at once!" she commanded, her voice laced with authority. She disappeared from my sight for a mere moment but as she reemerged from the tower of stone, she rushed to my arms in eagerness! Yet propriety won as she skidded to a stop, her gaze burned me with its intensity.

“How dare you call my dragon a foul, ugly, beast! His name is Neuvillette and you will leave us alone.” I was aghast! The princess had been bewitched by this sinful creature.

“But princess! He is a beast!”

“He is my friend !” What kind of sorcery is this?! I raised my sword as the dragon huffed.

"Put your sword away, Sir Knight," Princess Furina commanded, her eyes flashing with fierce determination. But I did not allow myself to be swayed by her false and honeyed words. I had to find a way to sway the creature’s hold on her.

“But how can he be a friend! This senseless creature with no thoughts. Think my lady, would a friend kidnap you and —”

I could only gasp as the princess raised her dainty feet and pressed them to the ground. Her sacred ankles!

“I insist that you stop your insolent mouth right this instant. I do not stand for any slander against Neuvillette and he did not kidnap me. I walked here.” How strong was this hold on her mind? My heart ached for her as I raised my sword.

“Fret not dear maiden, this curse on your mind will cease once he is slain. It is my honor-bound duty to slay this wretched creature.” My words seemed to have an effect as a shadow crossed the pale-haired princess's visage.

“Then you must go through me if you want to hurt Neuvillette.”

The dragon in its arrogance did not deign to look at me! Instead, it turned towards the princess and opened its giant maw. To my horror she reached inside and pulled out…a blade, fashioned from the very fang of the dragon! I feel sweat bead on the back of my neck as she stabs her blade towards me. I take the blow with my chest held up high. Unwavering is her hit but I must bear it.

“If you do not cease this foolishness, I will be forced to hit—”

()xxxxx[[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>

“I swear, is it because it is summer, there are quite a lot more knights coming our way.” Furina huffed as she brushed away the dirt on her favorite dress. When she woke up early this morning, fighting dotty boys sent her way was not on her list of to-dos. Alas, that had been her task ever since she moved into the tower with her dearest Neuvillette.

Speaking of her dragon…

The petite princess rounded on her heels as she watched him uncover the stone slab they had engraved just a week ago. The smile on her face grew as she watched him pick up the knocked-out knight like he was a moldy dish and toss him through the newly activated portal. The dragon was silent, tail dragging across the loamy soil of the lakeside as he moved to cover the stone once more.

“Neuvillette?” There was a huff and a low hum as the hulking creature slunk closer to the water's edge.

“Neuvillette, what’s wrong? Did what the knight say affect you?” Even as she spoke, she knew it was not true. Neuvillette cared not for what the humans thought about him. He never had and he never would. It was simply how he was. Her feet tapped along the ground as she scuttled after him. Her short legs had to work double just to keep up with his longer stride. Just what had gotten him into such a huff. If she recalled, the last few times they had dealt with an interloper he had been quite…enthusiastic after. She watched as he slipped into the lake with a wet plop. Her mind coursed through their recent scuffle.

Just what had upset him? Normally, they would have been bantering by now. Normally he would have lauded her skills just a tad but today…today was different.

The knight had been just like any other. She had defended her dragon once more…like always.

He had let her handle it herself too! It was just like always.

So what? What had upset her dragon so? Her love. Her frien–

Furina’s cheeks warmed. Her silly, silly, sweet, dragon. Giggling, the princess stepped off the shore and waded deeper into their lake.

“Neuvillette…are you upset that I called you a friend? ” Was that all? He was after all her friend first and foremost but…

A scaled tail wrapped around her waist. “But you are my friend.” There was another chuckle as she felt his hold loosen enough for her to wade waist-deep into their lake. “My best friend~”  She watched as the lake rippled. “My f r i e n d–”

As Furina recovered from the unexpected plunge into the cool waters of the lake, she couldn't help but emit a dramatic gasp, followed by a less-than-dignified whine as she elbowed the dragon responsible for her aquatic surprise. The dragon, Neuvillette, emitted a gruff chuckle as he wrapped his sturdy claws around her, holding her close with a strength that could crush boulders... but gently, of course.

"I am not just your friend," Neuvillette growled, his voice a curious mix of stubbornness and affection that only Furina could decipher after years of companionship. And without missing a beat, Furina relaxed into his embrace, a smile spreading across her face, bright like the sunrise.

"No... no you are not," Furina replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "You are my dearest love, my heart. My husband. My mate."

She laughed as he purred. This silly, silly, heart of hers. Furina's eyes, mismatched in color but perfectly matched in adoration, softened as she ran her palms against his scales, feeling the beat of his pulse beneath her touch. She truly loved this dragon of hers so much. He was the one who understood her the most, the one who held her hand and let her escape the stifling world that was her royal position. Here in their watery home, she had never been happier. The world around her disappeared, replaced by a curtain of silky grey. Blue tinged and much more human hands slid between hers.

Blue eyes met amethyst ones. She felt the pressure of his lips on her forehead. “You’re are my heart.” His voice rang clear. Furina’s heart squeezed. His lips ghosted over the bridge of her nose, “my dearest,” her eyes closed as he pressed his mouth across her brows, “my princess,” across her cheek, “my all.” She felt herself melt as she continued to pepper adoration across every inch of her face before settling over her lips. “My life, my mate.” Her cheeks hurt from the force of her smile. The world once more spun for her. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing.

“Eek! W-wait put me down!”

“I will when we reach our nest.”

In the heart of the lake, laughter rang clear. In the glimmer of the summer sun, their rings shone.

()xxxxx[[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>

“Ah…you should have stayed away. Everyone here knows Monsieur Neuvillette and Princess Furina are very much in love!” The barkeeper slid the pint of whiskey over to the hunched form of a once brave knight.

“B-but he’s a dragon!” There was an empathetic nod and a round of snickers.

“He is, that is probably why the princess fancys him. What was the popular saying last year? A beast in the sheets or sum’n like that?” A drunken man slurred somewhere to the bruised knight's left.

Sir Filibert heaved a sigh as he inhaled his liquor. Nothing in his long arduous practices had prepared him for that. The utter humiliation dealt.

“Lemme guess, ya got your face pummeled and coat sliced by the princey herself?”

He did not answer but that was all the crowd of the bar needed.

“Ay, add another tally to the chart! The princess is on a streak.” Confusion filled his gaze as he watched them slide coins across the table.

A warm hand smacked against his back. The armor echoed, low and hollow like his soul.

“Cheer up, yous neva coulda beat ‘em anyways.” The comfort was not felt by the knight. The bartender snorted before handing him another pint.

“She’s right, chin-up, look eh, if it's any consolation, another poor soul is bout to take yer place.” He turned towards the door, where a hooded figure barely hid the gleam of armor.

A chipper voice echoed through the tavern.

“Excuse me! I, Dame Birdie would like to attempt my luck at wresting Princess Furina away from the evil dragon. Please direct me to the lake.”

This poor, poor…soul.

He turned back to the bartender as he slid him a worn-out sheet.

“Wanna bet, who she’ll get beat up by? Dragon or Princess.” He turned his head to listen to the absolute ardor in the woman’s voice as she twirled her hair. His mind drifted back to the flicker of ice in draconic eyes.

“Dragon. Place my mora on the dragon.”

[mask131]

Vampires before they were cool... (3)

A last post for now – maybe more shall follow.

I talked of how the vampire myth was born, and of the vampire craze that overtook Europe. But I only vaguely hinted at what the vampires were back then. So here’s a question: what was a “vampire” in the 18th century, and how did it differ from the creature literature and cinema built? This is not a complete or extensive answer, but here are some things to think about (that I am lifting from Jean Marigny’s works):

The 18th century solidified the three main traits of a vampire. 1) It is an “undead in body”: it is not a disembodied spirit, an ethereal wraith or a spiritual demon. It has a body, it is a physical entity on the material plane. 2) It leaves its grave at night, in order to suck the blood of the living, which in turn extends his unnatural life. 3) His victims become vampires too, after they die.

The idea that vampire lacks a reflection and cannot be seen in mirror was greatly exaggerated by fiction. It was not an universal trait of vampires: it was mostly present in areas where a Germanic culture dominated. There, vampires were said to lack both shadows and reflections in mirror – which was meant to symbolize how they had lost their soul.

The idea of vampires having very huge, big and pointy teeth was greatly exaggerated by the cinema – while indeed the confusion with werewolves led to the idea of vampires having fangs, not all the vampires actually had to bite their victim to drink their blood. Many vampires simply sucked or absorbed the blood directly through the skin, without using their teeth. And in many other cases, such as the “Nachzehrer”, the vampire doesn’t even touch the victim, he just absorbs its life-force from a long distance.

While the bat became THE iconic vampire-animal (especially thanks to Buffon, who named the blood-sucking Southern American bats “vampires” in 1761), traditional vampires are said to turn into all sorts of animals: they can be spiders, or even butterflies, just as they can turn themselves into straw or mist.

Garlic is not an universal remedy against vampire: the belief that garlic repels vampire comes mostly from Romania. However, the vampire of folklore was known to only be able to leave his grave at night, as he was forced to return to his tomb before the singing of the rooster. The vampire also fears holy water and running water (because water is the source and symbol of life), and other religious symbols of Christianity (like the crucifix). A wooden stake through the heart is the best way to put an end to a vampire, but sometimes it is not enough and requires additional rituals. In Russia, the stake must be carved out of aspen wood, because it was the wood in which the cross of the Christ was built; in other countries, people rather use hawthorn, supposed to be the origin of the Christ’s crown of thorns. In Dalmatia and Albania, a dagger blessed by a priest is used rather than a wooden stake. In Romania, the “execution” of a vampire is called “the great reparation” and must be performed at the first lights of dawn, and the stake must be plunged in one hit – else the vampire can resurrect. If the body doesn’t crumble into dust after having its heart pierced, one must decapitate the corpse (usually with a gravedigger’s spade) and burn it. The ashes then have to be either buried under the crossing of two roads, or scattered to the four winds.

Alright, but how do you recognize a vampire, huh? Things are even more complicated here because its region has its own variations. The most generic and recognized trait is that, when in his grave, the corpse that is the vampire doesn’t have either a rigor mortis, or any trace of rot, even several weeks after being buried. Another common trait of vampires is how hairy they are: they have bushy eyebrows, that often join together above the nose, and they have hair in the palm of their hands. Romanian vampires even have a short tail covered with fur, which grows with the heat, and which is supposed to be giving them magical powers. When there is a vampire epidemic, a ritual to know which grave is the one of the vampire went as such: a virgin teenager had to ride a horse who also had never known sex, either entirely black or entirely white. The horse had to enter the cemetery, and supposedly reacted to the grave where the vampire was to be found: a vampire tomb was also identified by how you could find little holes on the ground near it – because it was through these holes that the vampires escaped each night, turning himself into mist. It was also believed that the people born of the sexual union of a male vampire and a female human had the gift of immediately sensing and recognizing vampires: they were called in Serbia “vampiritch” or “vampirovitch”, while in Bohemia and Hungary they were called “dhampirs”.

Finally: how do you become a vampire? Good question! Technically speaking, every human being can become a vampire after death. Nobody is prevented from the risk. But some people are more likely than others to turn into blood-sucking monsters. As I said before, all those that did not received proper Christian funerals or were not buried in holy ground were more likely to become vampires. People who died by suicide or by violent death were more at risks, just like excommunicated people, witches/warlocks, and stillborn infants. Other individuals are predisposed to become a vampire rather because of traits they had when they were born: people born with one or several teeth in their mouth, people born with a “caul” (a piece of the placenta or of the amniotic membrane stuck on the face or head of the baby), people born with either very dark eyes or very bright-blue eyes ; as well as people born with red hair (which were thought to be the “hair of Judas”) or with red spots over their body. When these people came to pass away, extra-precautions were taken to make sure they did not return as a vampire: in Romania, a nail could be plunged in the corpse’s forehead, or the body was pricked with many needles ; or the body was covered with the fat of a pig killed on Saint Ignace’s Day.

It was also very common to place an item in the mouth of the defunct, to prevent the chewing of the shroud or to prevent the soul from returning inside the body: in Romania it was garlic, in Greece it was a Christian host, in Saxony it was a lemon. Sudetenland had the tradition of wrapping the dead in a sort of large stocking: the vampire could only break one stitch of it per year. In Russia, poppy seeds were rather placed in a vampire’s grave, cursing them to counting the seeds each night instead of going out into the world.

People who died excommunicated or of suicide were constantly buried at a crossroad formed by two paths. In Serbia, to protect a house from a vampire attack, a cross made of tar was painted on the doors and the windows ; while in Romania, garlic was hanged in every room, and rubbed onto the doors, windows, chimneys and keyholes. Finally, in Russia, all the roads leading to the cemetery had to be covered in either poppy seeds or briar thorns: the vampire would be forced to pick them up one by one on its way.

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

Trust pt.2

Pairing- Sully family x darkfey!reader

Summary- The Sullys meet a special girl.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

Warnings- death, talking of death, guns/knifes

A/N- finally updating this shit but i really like this so i hope you do too and a little update I have a almost finished Tarsem fic and rebellion is still in the midst of coming up with ideas for but after I finish those two I'll start in pt.3 for this one

-6 years earlier- (You would be 10)

Soaring through the sky you laugh as yayo (bird) follows you chirping out a joke you stop. "What do you mean I look like a more advanced Ikran? They don't even have feathers and my horns are way better." You say to the bird and it only chirps back. "Ugh whatever." You roll your eyes before another yayo flies closer nudging your left wing. "Huh?" You say turning to the blue and yellow bird. He began chirping at an unbelievable pace but you made it out. Demons, in forest, danger, machines. Your eyes glowed as your wings went higher.

"I will get them out of here, go home to your families. Any other creatures you see tell them to hide and do not come out until the signal." You instruct the birds around you, chirping in unison they each go North, South, East, and West. You breathe in tightly as you flap your wings into the direction of the sky demons.

Stopping on a tree and hopping branch to branch closer to where the demons set base. "So you think you will find that fairy thing?" A bald demon asked a demon who was older who looked like he was in charge of something . "Trust me Kent if that abomination is still out there will get it." The older demon said. The one called Kent only said "hoorah." Pumping his fist in the air.

Then you heard a crunch from behind another tree and it seemed that they heard it the way they grabbed their weapons. Your grip on the tree branch tightened. And then a small boy, he looked around your age just…..shorter. The two dropped their guns. "Jesus kid, where's your mom and dad?" Kent said and the kid just shrugged his shoulders. "They are probably in the lab, we set up a perimeter so you can play out there and let the adults talk here." The older one said to the boy and he shrugged yet again walking into the woods.

You followed the boy. He walked far and fast, he even walked past the perimeter until he got to the lake. It was your favorite part of the forest, so quiet, so peaceful. He sat at the edge of the water rock in hand and then a kenten (fan lizard) stopped across the water to get something to drink. It was an adorable sight until the boy yelled throwing the rock at the lizard. Your eyebrows furrow as you swoop down, making the boy tumble back. Picking the hurt lizard up who whimpered in pain. Glaring at the boy you brought your hand up to its tail, hovering over it green magick came from your palm easing the pain and healing the injury.

Soon the lizard stood up, hissing at the boy and chirping at you before jumping down and running into the forest covered floor. "Why'd you do that!" You exclaim and the shocked boy blinks, running his hands on his pants as he gets up and is kind of eye to eye with you. "W…what?" He asked and you were dumbfounded, what? What! He just hurt a harmless animal and he is asking what. "You hurt an innocent creature, what do you mean what?" You ask and he looks down in shame. "I'm sorry." He said and you scoffed. "I am not the one who you should've apologized for, now go tell the other demons to leave my home."

"I…I can't they won't listen to me I got on this planet just this morning." The boy said and you tilted your head. "My mom and dad are scientists and they are researching stuff to bring back to earth my home." The boy said. You understand now he doesn't wish to be here but they see him as just a child so they won't listen to him. And then you sat with him over time, first you just watched him, he had brown with hints of golden blonde hair, his button nose had a few freckles on it, his bushy eyebrows fit just perfect in his forehead, and his teeth were a little bit to big for his mouth. He was so ugly you found him kind of cute.

And then he told you his name Jamie, then he told you stories of earth and he grabbed your hand suddenly and you winced as a strange burning sensation shot through your hand.

Pulling away and grabbing your hand rubbing it. "What is wrong?" He asked, concerned. "Your ring whatever it's made of." You say he looks at the ring in his pinky, taking it off he threw it into the forest. You stood there shocked he was willing to throw a ring of his own out into the world just so he wouldn't hurt you. Grabbing your hand he goes over the dark mark that now went over your skin.

Over the next five years you and Jamie grew closer, you would meet at the lake and talk about anything and everything, and when he kissed you everything around you would light up around you, your smile never faltered, you never cried of loneliness anymore, you were happy. You showed him parts and places of you that no one had seen before you thought you were special.

-At the base camp-

Jamie sat with the other boys and men that have been living at the base camp for the last five years looking for well, you. Jamie never had the urge to turn you in. Lately he sees every boy he grew up with get higher ranks or titles and he refuses to be the laughing stock. "If you find this beast cut its wings off you will be named lead commander of the next missions and so forth. I don't care if it's dead or alive, get me those wings" A man said over the intercom and his ears perked, Lead Commander.

Jamie packed a bottle of scotch and some crushed up sleeping pills he stole from his parents and then he grabbed a knife.

Creeping to the lake he saw you sitting there, over the years your beauty skyrocketed, your eyes glowed hypnotizing anyone who dared seeking your beauty, you lips now plum and full, your hair soft and shiny, and your wings were glorious so big could knock a swarm of grown men down with just one flap. You turn your head to his eyes, lighting up instantly. He smiles. Taking the scotch out he hands you it.

"What is it?" You ask and he chuckles. "Scotch." He says as you open the bottle with a loud 'pop' from the cap. Turning his back to you he pours the bag of crushed pills in your cup. He turns back around and pours the liquor straight into your cups, swishing it around and hands it to you. He watches as you chug it. With a disgusted face as you pull the cup from your lips. "That….That is gross." You say and he laughs filling your cup with more and only putting a shot in his cup. "You don't drink it for the taste, it's the after effects you want." He says taking his shot.

You nod as you take yours to the head.

-A few hours later-

Your head feels fuzzy as you lie against Jamie's chest as he hums a sky person tune. "I love you Jamie." You say and his voice stops and he breathes in. " I love you to Y/N." He says stroking your head as your heavy eyes begin to close, falling off into a sleepy abyss.

Jamie waited another thirty minutes to ensure that you were asleep, guilt and his own selfish needs clawed at his brain but selfishness always overruns guilt. He shifted you to lie on your stomach, he gripped the knife he pulled from his satchel and he looked at your wings.

Your eyes opened as the bright sky made you squint, getting up to wake Jamie, you realize he wasn't there anymore, he left. Your hand felt a piece of paper, it was obvious he wrote it in a rush, but there was blood on it. Concern filled you. 'I'm Sorry' the paper stated and you were confused as you got up and began to stretch your wings, until a painful sting shot through where your wings were supposed to be. Screeching in pain you look back and all there was was your dress ripped and your wings gone. Screaming as you try to fill your wings.

Jamie did this. Anger consumes you as your breathing got heavier and your tears got slower and you screamed, a gust of green and black air erupted from your body making the sky darken and the earth around you deepend as if just as pained as you. Your eyes shoot to a helicopter with your wings but it is too far away now.

Your gaze darkened as you stood up and walked towards the base camp. And with every step you took the life around you died, the creatures looked afraid as the flowers crumbled and the trees once high and mighty branches dipped. Your tears dried, replaced with the stoic expression that sent shivers down everything you gazed upon.

The demons pointed guns at you, and to no one's surprise Jamie at the front. You raised one hand and all the guns flew to the side and they clawed at their throats struggling to breathe. "Is something wrong J?" You ask with a menacing smile appearing on your lips. "Can't breathe?" You innocently asked as you clenched your fist tighter, and their pale faces soon turned shades of red and purple.

"Y/N….Please.." Jamie choked out. "I like when you beg." You tilt your chin upward. "Do it again." You say.

You wanted to humiliate, shame, utterly embarrass him. He took a part of you, parts of you that you will never get back. You wanted him to pay.

He looks down as he gets on his knees. You had a strong look on your face, you wanted his ego shattered and his dignity gone when you were done with him.

"Please, Y/N let us go, we didn't do anything." And just like that the fire exploded. "Didn't do anything!" You say choking all of the harder. "You took the most important parts of me, my dignity, you put me to shame, now beg." You say he begins to cry and you only feel disgust for this boy now. "Please Y/N I beg you, I beg for forgiveness, for my life." You sneer at the way he looked at your feet like a little girl.

"No."

.

.

.

.

.

.

-Now-

Your eyes opened as the bright sun hit your eyes. Rubbing the last bit of sleep in your eyes, scratching your left horn, you pull yourself out of bed. And then you feel this ache in your back, where your right wing would be. You called it phantom wings. It happens sometimes, especially when it inches closer and closer to the anniversary of the loss of your wings. Walking into the family area of the kelku (home) everyone but Lo'ak and you sat around.

"Look who's up Lo'ak is the only one still asleep." Jake said as if keeping a tally in his head, he looked stressed. You could feel the stressed out energy radiating off of him and Neytiri. You sit down in your regular spot between Lo'ak and Tuk. And then a familiar chirping came from the open window. Turning around you see the four familiar yayo, Vìrtì who told you about the sky demons, Ivä who called you an advanced ikran, Tsìo and Wisèy. They are pretty quiet but just as fun to be around.

Crawling to the window allows them to jump on your arms and bring them inside. "Mooooom look Y/N has yayos." Tuk said, tugging at her moms arm. She looks at you talking to the birds. "Yes it has been a while since we last hung out. I apologize." You say and then Ivä chirps something and your smile falls, "I know it is around that time let us talk of something else." You say shutting down their many, many chirps of protest. "Oh this is Vìrtì, Ivä, Tsìo, and Wisèy. They were like my family before you guys came along." You introduced the birds to the family and Tuk was the most excited and the rest were quite confused.

Birds? As a Family?

And then finally Lo'ak stumbled into the room sitting down next to Neteyam and Kiri. "Okay since all of you are here we need to share something with you all." Still talking with the birds you didn't catch what he said. "Y/N you too." He said and you turned your attention to him. "So as you know the sky people are back and they took Spider." He said you can see how physically and emotionally saddened Kiri was. "There is nothing we can do but to keep our family safe we have to flee." You look toward the floor and you would be alone again. All kinds of protests went through the room but Neytiri shut them down.

Neytiri looked at you and touched your back making you jolt up. The same pain from earlier came back. "Y/N are you okay." Looking at her and a smile comes on your lips. "I am fine but I do need to do something so can I?" You ask and she looks at Jake just confused. "Um here?" He asks and you feel like you don't need to lie. "No just a little deep into the forest." You say your goodbyes to the four birds as they fly home. "We will come with you." Neytiri said and you only shook your head looking into the forest.

As Jake went over there plan you tried to ignore the phantom wing, it was like an itch you can't scratch, a memory you couldn't place, it was a nearly unbearable pain.

Now you walk through the forest Neytiri and Jake behind you.

You were a few feet ahead of them stopping every now and then to talk to little creatures and heal broken plants. "Where do you think she's going?" Jake asked Neytiri, truth be told she hadn't the slightest clue but over the past week she had been more worried. The way at night you wince and hide your cries of pain and the way you jolted when someone touched your back.

And then they stopped into what seemed like a battlefield but you know there was no battle one wouldn't even call it a fight.

You step onto the chard ground. "I don't ever remember a battle being here." Neytiri said. "Because you didn't." You say crouching touching a crushed skeleton. "So you know what happened here." Jake said. "I happened here." You say shamelessly. Neytiri was confused. "He, Jamie, he used my vulnerability and innocence so he could get something he wanted. I showed him, let him use parts of me that I never let anything or anyone see or touch." You say crushing his dried skull with little effort. "He took my wings and I took his life." You say standing up walking around all of the rubble.

Neytiri looked at you with sympathy. She understands why you did it, but why did you still come here.

"Why do you still come here?" Jake asked as if he heard his mates thoughts. "To remind myself." You say. "Remind yourself of what." Jake asked. "Why I'm so angry." You say and then you wince as the pain comes back, but it seems being closer to this place makes it hurt more.

Neytiri sees your pain and she prays to Eywa she could take your pain and make it hers. Rubbing your back the pain eased. "Come let us get ready to leave." You look at her confused. "You did not expect us to leave you here, hm?" She asks and you smile as you shake your head side to side. Jake looked at the bodies that seemed to be drug down into the earth, sharp thorns stuck through the bones. All of the machines and homes burned and blew up. And you did it, he wondered what you could do with your wings.

Maybe he'd find out.

Tags-

@tejas-kris

[flamboyantly-incompetent]

OoTP, Chapter 5 - Something Rotten

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: hints of child abuse, death mentions

Masterlist

Word Count: ~5,800

Note: Cedric's death should have affected more people imo. I also had a couple blogs in my taglist that no longer route to anything, so if you've recently changed your blog name and still would like to be tagged let me know!

Halloween went by with the usual fanfare: Jack-O-Lanterns lined the walls of the Great Hall and bobbed lazily under the levitation spell, the ghosts even seemed more chipper and some made a habit of spooking unsuspecting first years. Peeves was especially insufferable this time of year, though you somehow managed to scrape by with only one encounter, during which he'd juggled far too many burning Jack-O-Lanterns above your head as you sprinted for the safety of the common room.

October bled into November, which lasted a single day before it was renamed 'Quidditch Season.' The first game was, as usual, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. You didn't go, but you heard from Herbert that Gryffindor won, and Slytherin (meaning Malfoy) were still dirty players and sore losers. That next week especially you avoided contact with the whole Slytherin house. They were in poor spirits and had a tendency to lash out at the nearest person with a cursable face, though by Saturday your lessons with Draco went smoothly enough.

Monday morning found the Great Hall abuzz with excitement. You sat down to breakfast across from Donna, who turned immediately to Hannah Abbott, and said, "What's everybody talking about?"

Hannah grinned. "Hagrid's back! People are taking bets on how soon Grubbly-Plank goes back into retirement.

The doors to the courtyard flew open with a bang to reveal a snow coated Hagrid. His reception was mixed. Several Gryffindor students leapt from their seats to greet him, but others seemed to turn one or several shades of green. You yourself smiled happily, ready for more interesting Care of Magical Creatures lessons. Then you remembered Umbridge, and your smile faded into a grimace.

Yvette met your eye from across the table. Apparently the same thought had crossed her mind.

"I wonder," you began slowly.

She finished, "What he has planned? Me too.

Donna gulped down some pumpkin juice and got up. "Let's go ask him." You followed Yvette and Donna, cutting him off before he could reach the teacher's table.

His eyes lit up from under bushy eyebrows when he saw the three of you, his cheeks already ruddy from the heat of the Great Hall's gargantuan fireplaces. "Well, if t'isn't me favorite fourth years!" He put his giant hands on his hips. "Where's Herb?"

Donna answered, "Hospital wing. Said Peeves dropped something on his head." You shared a look with Yvette, knowing for a fact he was just trying to get out of a History of Magic exam and had dropped a pumpkin on his own head with the levitation charm.

Hagrid chortled. "Madame Pomfrey will have him righ' as rain for the afternoon then. No doubt about that. How've you all been holding up?"

"Good," Yvette said, "but we're happy to have you back, Professor." Hagrid beamed.

You interjected, "We were also wondering when you'd be back to teaching, and what you have planned. Whether it's something..."

"Dangerous," Donna finished.

Hagrid laughed and patted your shoulder, you swayed under the weight.  “Don’t you worry, I've got somethin great lined up for this afternoon, you'll love it.  In fact, you should come down a little early, if you’ve got the time.  I’ve got a surprise.”  He said nothing else, and moved past you to take his place at the teacher’s table. 

That had not, at all, answered your question and had only led to more.  Which was unsurprising.  The three of you shrugged at each other and went back to the Hufflepuff table to eat and cram from A History of Magic before slumping off to Binn’s classroom.

When you got there, Herbert was already sitting at his desk, a bump the size of a snitch on his forehead, grumpily flipping through his textbook.

After slogging through a dozen and a half questions about goblins and goblin rebellions, you pulled Herbert along to the Great Hall, filling him in.  He was, unsurprisingly, less than thrilled at the news that your favorite professor (perhaps a close second to Professor Sprout) had returned and would be resuming his curriculum immediately.

He groaned, stuffing sausage rolls into a pocket in his robes.  “We have to go now?”

“Yes, Herbert,” Donna implored, doing the same, “we can eat later - let’s go!”  She grabbed him by the wrist and began pulling.

“Alright, alright.”  He pulled himself from her grasp and walked along with the group willingly.  “I just hope this surprise of his doesn’t singe my school robes again.”

You laughed, “Oh, come on.  With any luck it’s either something cute or something deadly.”

The four of you hurried down the snowy path, clinging to each other in random intervals to keep from sliding and giggling wildly all the way, to Hagrid’s hut.  It was good to see smoke rising from the chimney again.  The door was open, Fang lay asleep on the threshold, so still if you didn’t know better you’d guess he was dead.  He snored loudly as you stepped over him first.

“Hagrid?” you called quietly.  He looked up from his woodstove, a tea kettle sat over the fire.  In this lighting, you noticed he looked a little worse for wear.  His face was puffy in places, and discolored, but when he saw the four of you he beamed.  Same old Hagrid.

“Come in, come in.  Oh don’t mind the old lug, he’s been asleep for hours.”  He gestured at the chairs crowding a tiny dining table.  “Want a cuppa?”

“Where have you been?” Yvette asked before settling herself into a chair and crossing her arms.  “We’ve missed your lessons.”  Herbert made a noise; Donna stamped his foot under the table.

Hagrid chuckled and set tea cups down in front of each of you.  In his giant hands they looked minuscule.  “I’ll have ye know it’s none of your business, but I was in France.  Visiting a friend.”  You shared a look with Yvette.  “And you’ll all like what I have planned for today.  It’s perfect timing.”  He didn’t elaborate, but the tea kettle began to whistle.  “Just a mo’.”

Herbert cleared his throat.  “So, Hagrid.  About that surprise?”

“Right, right, o’ course.”  He turned back around and put the kettle back on the stove, which started whistling again immediately.  He picked it back up and poured the steaming water into the cups before opening various cabinets.  “Now, where did I… ha!  The ministry had these enchanted for the tournament last year, and Dumbledore convinced them to leave em with me.”  He sat down between Yvette and Donna, a velvet pouch in his hand.  It was squirming.  “You’ll like this especially, Y/N.”

You gasped.  From the bag emerged four tiny but incredibly lifelike dragons.  Dragons.  The green one took to the air at once, flitting around the hut above your heads, while the one you recognized as the Hungarian Horntail let out a wildly adorable roar and a tiny jet of flame.

“I figured these’d be close enough to the real thing, for Advanced Care of Magical Creatures.”  He looked at you pointedly.  

The Welsh Green had settled in a hanging pot of basil, observing from above, while the Swedish Short-Snout lumbered towards your hand and tried to take a chunk out of your thumb.  It pinched a little, but the tiny dragon did not let go.  You laughed weakly, in shock, as you held the thing in your hand.  “Count me in,” you said.  

The Chinese Fireball had snuck up on the Horntail and tackled it, but was no match for the other dragon’s strength and tenacity.  Hagrid pulled them apart before permanent damage could be done.

Herbert whistled.  “This is cool, Hagrid.”

“Well don’ sound so surprised!”

He stuttered, “It’s just that, well you know, I just hoped, oh nevermind it.”

Hagrid herded the three dragons on the table back into the bag, you had to coax the Short-Snout to release your hand, and then stood up to be eye level with the Welsh Green.  He held the bag open, close to it, and pointed.  The tiny dragon leapt up into the air, tucked its wings, and dove into the bag.

“There,” he said, smiling contentedly, “I thought you bunch would get a kick out of that.”

Yvette, who had also not stopped smiling, said, “Thanks, Hagrid.  It is good to have you back.”

“Yeah, but we’d better go,” Donna said, peering out the window.  “There’s already a crowd by the forest.”

Hagrid picked Fang up and put him by the fire, the dog did not wake up but began to snore louder, and led the four of you out of his hut and out into the cold, carrying a bucket full of something absolutely putrid.  He waited until all the other students had arrived, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw shared this class and chatted among themselves to speculate what was to come, and then asked the class to follow him.  He did not take a turn into the forest as you expected, but continued along its edge for several minutes, and only stopped at the shore of the Black Lake.

You exchanged confused looks with several classmates.  Hagrid looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“Now, how many of you’ve heard of the giant squid?” he began.  Most students raised their hands.  “And how many of you think it’s a prank pulled by older students?”  You raised your hand sheepishly, along with a handful of others.  “Not surprising, he’s a reclusive creature, but this time o’ year, if you offer him something yummy he usually shows himself.”  Your jaw hung open.  Hagrid waved again, and led the class to the pier.  He had everyone stand in a line at the edge, held the bucket above his head, and shouted out across the waves, “C’mere Squish!  I’ve something for ya!”

“He named the squid Squish?” Donna muttered.

“Are you surprised?” you muttered back.

For several minutes, nothing happened.  Hagrid pulled an oily fish out of the bucked and dipped it in the black water.  Still nothing.  The students around you began to murmer again.  Then, there was a ripple.

You elbowed Donna.  “Look,” you said, pointing out at the line being drawn in the waves.  Something big was moving under the water.  “Uh, Professor?” you called.

He waved you off.  “Here he comes!  Get ready!”  The line drew closer and closer until it was almost to the pier, and then.  It was gone.  Hagrid deflated just a bit and reached again for the bucket.  Before he could touch it though, two huge, jet black tentacles erupted from the surface, spraying everyone with frigid water, and grabbed the whole bucket and disappeared back under the water.

Donna looked at you, mouth agape, then turned to Herbert.  “Do you still have those sausage rolls?”

“Yeah, but I was gonna-”

“Can I have one?”

“But-”

“Oh, come on.  I’ll proofread your Divination assignment?”

Herbert sighed heavily, and reached into his pocket.  Donna beamed.  You, Yvette, and Herbert followed her as she elbowed her way to the end of the pier next to Hagrid.  She held the roll above her head and called, “Uh, Squish?  I’ve got somethin else for ya!”  The Ravenclaw next to you looked at Donna in horror.  Hagrid only egged her on.

You watched, enthralled, as a gigantic, black shape glided out from under the pier.  The Black Lake, murky as it was, left much to the imagination, but if you had to guess you’d say that Squish was at least ten meters long.  Donna held the sausage roll out like you would feed a horse a carrot - on the palm of her hand, fingers well out of the way.  A smaller tentacle reached out slowly, much gentler this time, and plucked the roll out of her palm.

The class was speechless.  If there hadn’t been the constant thrum of water against shore, you could’ve heard a pin drop.

Hagrid clapped again, grinning ear to ear, and said, “He’ll be happy now, he’s had dinner and desert.”  He clapped Donna on the shoulder.  “Right, let’s move back onto shore and we can finish up the lesson.”  

The class gathered around Hagrid on the stony shore in stunned silence.  Clearly, even if they believed the rumor, no one expected the creature to be so big, or get so close.  A majestic creature, sure, but what was it doing in a freshwater lake?

Hagrid seemed ready to answer your question, as he began, “Who can tell me the typical stomping grounds of a giant squid?”

A Ravenclaw, a muggleborn you’d met through the DA, raised his hand.  “They’re deep sea dwellers.  So what’s this-”

“One doing here?  An excellent question Mr. Goldstein.  A normal giant squid is only expected to live five years or so, but this one’s been living in our very own lake for at least a century.  So, what’s special about this one?  Ordinary creatures, when they interact with existing magical traces in unexpected ways, can turn magical.”

A thought occurred to you; you raised your hand.  “Like the magical barrier surrounding Hogwarts?”

“Exactly!  That is my own theory, Dumbledore agrees it’s likely.  And ever since then, his lifespan has increased, and he’s far more intelligent than a typical giant squid.”

The Ravenclaw spoke up again, “But what about the other things in the lake?  Don’t they get territorial?”

“Another excellent question - five points.  Now the funny thing about that, we learned from the merfolk last year.  Apparently, they’re able to share because they’ve established hunting grounds, and Squish hunts a number of nasties the merfolk don’t like, like Grindylows, which he’s only able to do because he’s been changed by magic somehow.”

The class continued to pepper Hagrid with questions, apparently the idea of a magically mutated animal fascinated most of the Ravenclaw students, right up to the chime of the bell echoing from far away.  The castle was a long walk away and by the time you got back inside, in front of a fireplace, you excused yourself to skip a trip to the library and went to go lie down for the hour before dinner.  About five minutes in, Wilbur found you and began kneading into your chest.

The week trudged on, Donna proofread an assignment for Herbert as promised - an essay comparing Herbert’s astrological sign to his older brothers’ - and on Saturday morning, instead of going straight to the Quidditch pitch, you actually joined your friends for breakfast.  It was the last Quidditch match before the holiday break - Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw.  Yvette had been a vibrant cluster of nerves and excitement all week and by the time she sat down in the Great Hall she was practically bouncing off the walls.  Luna Lovegood was wearing a cloak that looked like raven’s wings, along with a large hat with a protruding beak.  When you asked her about it, she opened the beak, which promply played the Hogwarts’ anthem in a series of caws.

The match did not go well.  Wanda Clemm had apparently just been dumped by her girlfriend, and was even more inconsolable after what she called the worst performance of her life.

Your tutoring sessions with Draco Malfoy continued in relative civility into December - Professor Sprout had the class preparing the fire-breathing snap dragons for hibernation over Christmas break - and you were loathe to admit it but you’d grown rather comfortable with the arrangement.  The Dumbledore’s Army meetings continued as well, and before break, you planned to ask Harry Potter about your friends possibly joining.  The more you learned from him, the more you believed the urgency of the threat.  

The last week of term, you sat at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall, surrounded by sparkling evergreen trees topped with stars that twinkled and sent out tiny flying reindeer at odd intervals.  Donna and Herbert were discussing their holiday plans next to you; Yvette had been in a perpetually sour mood since losing to Ravenclaw and was angrily flipping pages through Intermediate Transfiguration pretending to study.

A gentle thrum signaled the arrival of at least a hundred owls prepared to drop off mail.  The first few dropped in to circle the tables, and as more and more joined them you spotted your mother’s owl - Bertha.  She settled on the table and held out her leg casually while she began preening.

Dear Y/N, I hope your year is going well, we all of course miss you at home and are excited to see you for Christmas!  The shop is doing well, we may have to expand next year but that’s so long as the prices at Apothecary in Diagon Alley stay so inflated.  It’s been a boon to have so much of their business transfer here.  Your Screechsnap misses you, so does Buttercup, and so do we!  We’ll pick you up at Kings Cross at noon? Love you, Mum & Julien

You smiled to yourself; you missed the family’s King Charles Spaniel called Buttercup too, and you could already smell your step-father’s homemade cauldron cakes.

Ezra Roberts sat down next to your group.  “Hey, Yvette.”

She looked up, surprised.  “Hey.”

“I’m writing a Christmas card for Mr. Diggory; I wondered if you wanted to write one too.  Any of you.  I’m asking most of the house.  Nothing too fancy, just… you know.”  You nodded without thinking.  Before you could take it back, Ezra clapped you and Yvette on the shoulders and grinned.  “Great - I’ll need them before term ends.  I really think he’ll like hearing from people.  See ya later!”

What had you just agreed to, exactly?  Yvette saw the look on your face and burst out laughing.

“What do I even say?” you asked, incredulous.  “I barely knew Cedric.  Oh stop laughing at me, you’re on the Quidditch team at least, you can talk about that.  I’ve got nothing.”  You groaned and put your face in your hands.

Yvette patted you on the head.  “There, there, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”  You shot her a look.  “Yeesh, fine, just write about what you do know and wish him a Happy Christmas.  You don’t have to pour your heart and soul out for every single person on the planet.”

“But if she didn’t she wouldn’t be the Hufflepuff we all know and love,” Herbert snarked through buttered toast.

There was a sudden hush as across the room a bench screeched against the stone floor.  Draco Malfoy stormed out of the hall, shoulders slumped, not at all his usual haughty gait.  During your tutoring session two days ago, he’d sounded perfectly normal.  As normal as ever, anyway.  The silence broke in a growing thrum of whispers.  Ernie and Hannah sat down, gossiping quietly; you leaned over to ask, “What’s going on?”

Hannah laughed, embarrassed.  “It’s really not funny, I almost feel bad for laughing.”

“Oh, come on,” Ernie interrupted.  “It’s kind of nice to see him knocked down a peg.  I heard that his parents don’t want him home for the holidays.”

“What?  Why?” you asked.

Ernie thought for a moment.  “I’m not sure, I think they had some kind of row or something.”

“Huh?”

“Malfoy and his dad,” Hannah said.  “I heard from Justin, who heard from Padma Patil, that Dean Thomas overheard him complaining to those thugs who follow him everywhere that they had a spat about the family’s ‘rightful status.’”

You grimaced, wondering if they were arguing about Draco working for the Ministry.  

Donna weighed in, “Yikes.”

“Oh yeah,” Ernie said, spewing toast crumbs across the table, “a gem.”

You excused yourself to hurry after him, spurred on by some unidentified sense of duty, and caught him on the dark stone stairs to the dungeons.  “Hey, wait!”

He turned and looked at you coldly.  His face seemed paler than usual.  “What is it?”

“Are you really staying here for Christmas?”

He scowled and crossed his arms.  “How did you know about that?”

“Everyone is kinda talking about it.  How come?”

“Because you gave me the bright idea to disobey my father.”  He jabbed a finger at you as he said it, and his sleeve pulled back just enough to show a hint of discoloration.  Your heart sunk to your feet.  “And then he asked where I got such an idea, and then-”

“He found out about-”

“Me being tutored by a Hufflepuff, my undignified career goals.”  He crossed his arms again.  “So I’ve been banished.  So if you’ll excuse me, I need to unpack.”  He turned on his heels and disappeared down the stairs.

After forcing yourself to listen to Professor Binns all morning, you spent the break before lunch in the library, either staring blankly at a card with a glittering poinsettia on the front, or starting blankly at the shelves hoping you’d happen across one called An Idiot’s Guide to Greeting Cards.  You had no such luck.  Draco never showed up to lunch.  Hagrid had the afternoon Care of Magical Creatures class pick strips of paper out of a bucket, yours said “Flobberworm,” and when you learned the purpose of them you were wildly jealous of Anthony Goldstein who had picked the strip labeled “Unicorn.”  Hagrid handed everyone their own buckets, and said that whoever created the best treat basket for their given creature would win ten points.  It was not his best lesson, but it seemed like everyone understood that after Umbridge’s visit to the fifth years’ lesson, it was better for everyone to play it safe.

You’d planned on trying again to write Mr. Diggory after dinner, but the common room had been decorated with garlands and the fireplace had been enchanted to burn red and green and gold, and through the enchanted windows blew sparkling snow and the scent of hot cocoa, and you immediately forgot all about  writing a Christmas card in the revelry.

The next morning, though, you remembered.

Draco wasn’t in Herbology, either, though Crabbe, Goyle, and that sycophantic Slytherin girl had shown up to class.  The three of them seemed to be having enough trouble handling their snapdragons on their own, so you waited until everyone else was done, and quickly tended to Draco’s.  Just to keep it alive over break.  After potions, Donna, Yvette, Herbert and yourself all ate a hurried dinner and went straight to the library to get some last minute work done.  You scribbled away at a chart for Astronomy, which was due in an hour, until Yvette brought up what she’d put in her Christmas card to Mr. Diggory.

“I thought he’d like to know that the whole house came out for Quidditch tryouts.  Left out how badly we were demolished by Ravenclaw of course,” she said nonchalantly.  She was only trying to be helpful, but it still felt like nagging.  “I really think once you get started-”

“Look, right now, the only thing I wanna think about is where Ursa Major is relative to Cassiopeia on my birthday.”

“Fine,” she said coldly.  “I’ll see you in Astronomy.”  She swiped her books into her bags and flounced out of the library.

Herbert and Donna were staring at you.  “What was that about?” you asked.

“Well,” Donna started slowly, “it’s just that you’ve been so… absent, lately.  I think she, I mean, we all just kind of… miss you?”

“What?” you asked, incredulous.

Herbert rolled his eyes.  “Come on, you’re all over the place these days.  Most evenings we don’t even see you.  You never come to breakfast on the weekends, and you’re behind in every class.”

“Am not!”

“Name one.”

You smirked.  “Herbology.”

“That one doesn’t count and you know it.”  You huffed and crossed your arms.  “You’re hiding something, Y/N.”

“Guys,” Donna interrupted, bent over her own assignment, “can we talk about this later?  This is due for Ancient Runes tomorrow morning.”

“Am I the only one in this friend group capable of finishing work on time?”

“It will be on time so long as I finish it before Astronomy.”

“You know what?”  Herbert picked up his own stack of books.  “I’ll see you in Astronomy as well.”  

You watched him leave, shocked.  “What is going on?”

Donna did not look up, “You have been a little distant lately.  Otherwise you’d know that Yvette’s granddad was killed in a freak accident last week.  It was all over the muggle newspapers, her mum sent a letter.  Dangerous things have been happening in the muggle world, lately.  Not that you’d have any reason to know about them.  But with how Defense Against the Dark Arts has been going, it would be nice if we could all talk to each other for more than ten minutes at a time.”

The tension in your shoulders deflated.  Maybe you had been less than attentive to your friends.  How were you supposed to know about any of this if she didn’t tell you?  It wasn’t like you didn’t see them everyday.  But then again, you wouldn’t want to talk to someone you felt pulling away.  “And Herbert?”

“Herbert’s been into Yvette since last term.”

“What?”

She smiled into her parchment.  “He never would’ve tried out for Quidditch if he wasn’t.”

“Does she know?”

“Ha, nope.”

“Does he know you know?”

“Nope.”

“Well how do you know then?”

She set her quill down and looked at you knowingly.  “Because I pay attention.”

“Oof, ok.  Point taken.”

You finished the chart with ten minutes to spare, which was just enough time for you to follow Donna to the Astronomy tower; you thanked her three times on the way for sticking around for you.  Yvette didn’t speak to you, and she and Herbert left you and Donna behind on the way back to the common room after class.

Just as you followed Donna through the round painted door, Yvette nowhere in sight, the Galleon in your pocket began to heat up.  Tomorrow night, two hours before curfew.  You bid Donna goodnight and sat down in an armchair before the fireplace with the pretense of finally writing that Christmas card.  Instead, you wrote a quick note to Harry Potter, figuring you could send it discreetly by owl in the morning.

To do so, though, you had to wake up at the crack of dawn.  Across from you, Donna still slept soundly, and with the curtains pulled tightly shut on Yvette’s bed you weren’t even sure if she was there or not.  You left some treats on your pillow for Wilbur and snuck out through the common room to the Owlery.  Donna and Herbert joined you for breakfast; Yvette sat at the other end of the table.  You watched for the owls, when one swooped down next to Harry Potter with your note, you saw him read it, and immediately show it to Hermione Granger, who in turn looked up to make eye contact with you from across the Hall.  Transfiguration was your only class of the day, after lunch, so when your friends excused themselves to get to their own electives, you met her, Harry, and Ginny’s brother in the courtyard under the clock tower.

“You know Ginny, right?” Ginny’s brother, Ron, asked.

You nodded.  “And Luna.  But Ginny’s the one who told me about the, uh, study group.”

“And you want to invite some people?  For tonight?” asked Harry.

“Yeah, if I can.  They’re just friends from my house.  Two of them are muggleborns, and they’re going home for Christmas, and even their families can tell something’s off.”

Hermione nodded.  “They’ll have to sign up, but the room shouldn’t have any problem scaling for a few extra.”  She and Ron both looked to Harry to confirm, who nodded.  “We’ll be by at dinner.  It’s still a secret until then.”

“Thank you.”  A weight lifted from your shoulders.  “See you then!”

You hung out in the library until lunch, nestled in between two bookcases in front of a window, trying once again to write a Christmas card.  Snow was falling gracefully outside, and you were content to watch it idly until something black, moving fast, caught your eye.  Someone on a broom, high above the Quidditch pitch.  You wondered for a moment if it was Yvette, if she’d skipped Divination for an end of term practice, but the glint of silver on the figure’s head disproved that theory.  Even from a distance, the black blur of Malfoy as he buzzed around the pitch, when he stopped and just hung in the air, seemed a bit lost.

You cursed under your breath and put a piece of parchment over the blank card.

Hi Mum!  And Julien! Do you think I could stay at Hogwarts for break?  I think I may have given a friend some bad advice, and I don’t want to leave them alone on Christmas.  Give my love and apologies to Buttercup, please. Happy Christmas, Y/N

You read back through the letter once, shocked you’d called Draco a friend without a second thought, but you could deal with that later, and headed for the owlery for the second time.

Yvette broke her silence at lunch, asking about an essay on the Shrivelfig due for the fourth year Herbology class the next day, so you took the opportunity.

“So, Herbert said I’ve been hiding something,” you started.  Donna, Herbert and Yvette leaned in, listening, so you could speak quietly.  “He was right.  I’m sorry, I realize this isn’t amazing timing, but if none of you have plans after dinner, I can show you what I’ve been doing.”  They all wore the same dumbfounded expression.  “It’s kind of a secret, so that’s all I can say until then.  Just, come to dinner and then if you want you can go back to not speaking to me.”

Yvette leaned back, her arms crossed.  “Have you written that Christmas card yet?”

“Not yet, but I will,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Well then I guess we’ll have to see.”

Transfiguration went better than you’d ever dared to hope - you successfully transformed your cat Wilbur into a white marble drinking goblet and back again.  Your friends joined you for dinner, and, as promised, Hermione came over after most other students left to pack for the holiday.

She sat down across from Herbert and placed the DA member list on the table, glancing around for teachers, particularly Umbridge.  “We’ve been meeting sporadically, training in defensive magic.  Y/N’s vouched for you if you want to join.”

“Who’s been teaching?” Donna asked, “You?”

Hermione shook her head and said quietly, “Harry’s the only one with the qualifications-”

“Harry Potter?” asked Yvette.

“Well, yes, he’s the only one who’s fought with You-Know-Who and lived, so-”

“Last year, you mean?” asked Herbert, who was side-eying you.

She huffed at the second interruption.  “Last year, and two years before that, and a year before that!  Do you think he’s unqualified?”  Herbert shrugged and looked at his shoes.  “Anyway, we’re meeting tonight.  Y/N can take you, but you have to sign this first.”  Yvette signed without hesitation, which meant Herbert signed next.  

You looked at Donna.  Donna looked back.  “You’ve been learning from Harry Potter, and you didn’t think to tell us?”

You smiled sheepishly, “It was a secret!  And, up until just now, kind of… invite only?”

She rolled her eyes at you and signed the parchment.  Hermione, seemingly satisfied, rolled it up and slipped it back into her robes before departing.  None of your friends had heard of the Room of Requirement before, and when they walked in to see their prefects, among several other Hufflepuff students, surrounded by touching but gaudy Christmas decor, their jaws dropped open.

Harry was chatting with some of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but waved politely at his new pupils when he saw you.  He addressed the room, “Okay!  I think this evening we should just go over the things we’ve done so far, we’ve a couple new people and since this is the last meeting before term, we may as well just get them acquainted-”

Zacharias immediately began complaining, “If I’d known that I wouldn’t have come…” until Yvette shot him a withering look.

Everyone divided into pairs; yourself with Yvette, Ernie with Donna, and Hannah with Herbert.  Starting with the Impediment Jinx, Yvette was a quick study; even with your experience with the DA she managed to hit you more than you could manage to stun her.  Then, the group got out the cushions to practice Stunning, and you watched as your friends held their own, though with varying degrees of success, against some older students.   After a while, Harry called a halt.  He seemed impressed with the progress everyone had made, and mentioned trying the Patronus Charm after break, earning a ripple of excited whispers from everyone.

Grinning and out of breath, Yvette clapped you on the shoulder.  “This is great!  I think I learned more this past hour than a whole semester with Umbridge.”

“Yeah,” Donna said, looking markedly less pleased.  “It’s a wonder it took you so long to invite us.”

You sputtered, “Well I just, like I said it was all very secret, and it is technically against the rules according to Educational Decree something or other.”

Donna waved a hand dismissively.  “Who cares about that old toad?”

“My mum, for one,” said Herbert, grinning, “she’d be livid if she knew I was disobeying someone from the Ministry.”

All around you, people were filing out in twos and threes.  Hannah turned to wish Harry a Happy Christmas, but before she could say anything, her face fell and she tapped Ernie on the shoulder.  The four of you turned around as well; it was Cho.  Standing in front of Cedric’s picture that had been taped under some clippings from the Daily Prophet on the mirrored wall.  You all tapped the other Hufflepuffs as they passed you, and they all stopped, except for Zacharias Smith, who simply rolled his eyes and left.

Her shoulders shook; Hannah flinched.

“Cho?” she said, tentatively, the rest of you moving up carefully behind her.

Cho startled, and turned around, sniffling.  “Oh, Hannah.”  She hastily wiped her eyes.  “I thought you’d already-”

“We just, sorry, we just wanted to tell you that, um,” Hannah looked around at the rest of you, “we’re with you.  We miss him too.”  A few students around you affirmed this quietly.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, still patting her puffy cheeks.

“He was a good person,” Ernie said.

She nodded.  

Yvette added, “Who deserved better.”

Cho let out a choked sob.  You, eyes burning, reached a hand out and patted her lightly on the shoulder, which only made her cry harder.  “Sorry,” you said, embarrassed.  Cho’s friend sidled up to her, looking at all of you suspiciously.

“Have a Happy Christmas, Cho,” Hannah said quietly, before herding the rest of your house back to the common room.

Later, you sat before the fireplace in the common room once again, knit woolen blanket draped over your legs, quill in hand, looking at a blank Christmas card.  Then, you started to write.

~~~ Taglist ~~~

@jemomgershippingco

@snickersmee

@lafrone

@cillshot

[callofbabythulhu]

Prologue: The Village and The Witch

This is the introductory prologue to an AU fanfiction of @14dayswithyou​.

CW: Strong language, religious imagery, bugs (like loads of em), most possibly OOC for Rendacted, not proofread

Word count: 1.1k

Witches. Wicked creatures that have made a deal with the devil to gain powers that no human should have. They live amongst the people, hidden in plain sight and conducting their sinister rituals in secret.That is what every hunter of the church is taught from the very beginning. However there are witches that decide to seclude themselves from society and live in the wild. More dangerous and powerful than any other witch they are said to drive a man mad just by looking at them. So it was no surprise that a small village at the edge of a bog petitioned for the church’s help when one such wild witch was spotted in the area. 

A month after the letter had been sent a young man arrived by coach. He was dressed in a long leather coat with belts across his chest and waist. A small silver cross dangled from the brim of his hat and underneath was a head of long black hair, tied into a ponytail. A pair of sharp, icy-blue eyes glanced about as the villagers started to assemble around him. A stout old man with bushy gray eyebrows made for the head of the crowd and looked at the presumed witch hunter in front of him. He was young, too young in the elder’s eyes and he made his doubts known. A soft smile graced the young man’s lips but it did not reach his eyes. “I assure you that I am quite capable despite my age. No need to worry yourselves.” 

A grumble escaped the old man who still seemed to doubt that someone of such a tender age could be any good in hunting a dangerous witch. “Well if you say so, son. Is just…we expected someone with a few more years under their belt.” A low mumbling of agreements were heard from the villagers and the hunter’s eyes twitched. “I guarantee that no witch stands even a remote chance against me. I have been training since childhood and have burned a fair share of the wicked creatures by now.” His blue eyes met the older man’s gaze who instinctively took a step back. “Duly noted. My name is Hanstrum. I run this village. May we know your name, so- sir?” The young man’s eyes softened just a bit as a satisfied smirk formed on his lips. “You may call me Ren. Now tell me about that witch of yours.” 

He was led to the small chapel in the center of the village and Hanstrum went inside to tell the hunter what had taken place over the last couple of months.

It all started harmless enough. A few missing chickens and other livestock, stolen crops and destroyed gardens. Nothing that couldn’t have been caused by the wildlife in the nearby bog. What alarmed the villagers however was the woodcutter’s son going missing for almost 3 days before returning shaken and muttering something about moving trees and swarms of insects. Only one thing could be made out for certain from the boy's mad ravings. He had spotted a hut deep in the swamp and after spending the night in there he saw someone by the fire pit outside of it. He tried to sneak away but after stepping on a branch and being spotted all he could remember was the buzzing of bugs and him running for his life.

The old folk were sure that it had to be a witch and wanted to call on the church then and there but the woodcutter wanted to take matters into his own hands and assembled a party of able bodied men to seek the hut out and burn the witch. No one could get any information of where the location of the hut was out of the boy. All he kept saying was flowers and bugs so that is what the men used to search. However as night began to fall they were still no closer to finding anything and under the light of a fire they discussed what to do next. There in the firelight they saw her. In the tree line not far away a pair of golden eyes was staring at them. The men gave a start and when the witch raised her hand and hissed in their direction they ran as fast as their feet could carry them back to the village. 

The call for aid was sent after they had returned shaken and mad with fear. Everyone who had seen the witch had been plagued by nightmares since with those that had gazed into her eyes having the worst of it. Everyone was sure that they had been cursed for daring to seek out the witch.

“Please. You have to help us before that witch curses the whole village and starts stealing our children!” The plea of old Hanstrum echoed in the chapel as he gazed at Ren. His eyes were closed and he seemed lost in thought. There was silence for a few tense moments as the elder didn’t dare speak again. Ren clicked his tongue and nodded, opening his eyes. “I will deal with your witch. But I will need supplies and this service does not come cheap.” His eyes met the elder’s who gulped and nodded. “We are aware. You shall have whatever you need just say the word.” Ren gave a satisfied hum and smiled. “I need provisions and all the silver you have. I will also need some holy water and if you have any black powder I shall need that as well.” Hanstrum nodded and took note of all the witch hunter demanded. “We will see that your payment is ready when you return with proof of the deed done and I will send someone to bring you the supplies you asked for.” He gave a nod. “Good. I shall head out at first light tomorrow. Be sure to have the supplies delivered by then.” The elder nodded and thanked Ren once again. He clapped the young man’s shoulder and left him to prepare in the chapel. Ren’s smile vanished and he wiped the spot on his coat where the elder had touched him. He huffed and turned to face the large cross at the head of the chapel. He reached under his coat and pulled out a rosary. Next to the small brass cross was a small golden ring that glimmered in the candle light. A long sigh escaped Ren as he first brought it to his lips and then his forehead. Wrapping his hands tightly around it he closed his eyes and began his silent prayers.

[extra-v1rgin]

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Cw • Brief mention of violence, but not towards either of the main characters

Wonder what Rengoku looks like? Check out this post

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An innocent video crops up on the internet. It gets a good amount of views, not truly viral, but not completely lost within the waves of video content. It shows a creature leaping into the air. Water splashes around its form as the thing leaps from the ocean. Most admire the shadowed creature but pass it off as something fake.

Mermaids are real. Not in the way that shows The Little Mermaid depicts them, human and kind. They’re covered in scales and dark as night. Real videos of them are few and far between, filmed thousands of feet below the ocean. They’re blurry and poor quality. Mostly they just capture the creatures swimming past. The strange, vaguely humanoid, creatures do not go anywhere near the surface. They certainly do not leap above the sea.

The Japanese government does not think the video is fake somehow. Though it resembles thousands of videos faked with costumes or CGI, there is something different about it. It was filmed by some millionaire passing an uninhabited island on his yacht. It’s not from a person who’s desperate for internet fame. He claims the video is real, even when cornered by agents in black suits and sunglasses.

A small group of researchers is sent to the island, thousands of miles away from the mainland. They confirm these surface-dwelling creatures are real.

They aren’t like the deep sea creatures that are associated with blurry photos. These mermaids still aren’t human. Their skin is not pitch black, but most do have darker tones. Even the palest are still tan. Built with broad shoulders and strong backs it’s clear they’re made to swim. That says nothing of their long brilliant tales. The only thing common among them is the fact that they are anything but plain.

It’s theorized that there was either a mutation that separated this colony from their more alien-like cousins, or that somehow human DNA made its way into their own. The only evidence for the latter is remnants of wood and torn fabric that could’ve once belonged to an outcast.

Tomioka was lucky enough to be located at the one marine life research center that is chosen to visit the island where these creatures are dwelling. The news of the creature's existence is kept quiet. This small facility off the coast of Kuji is the only group made aware of these beasts besides the government.

But Giyuu is unlucky enough to not go himself. Though he had to sign all the same NDAs and is charged with receiving all the information logged, it’s not the same as seeing the mermaids in reality. As the lowest in terms of seniority, he drew the short straw.

There were still some perks. Pictures came in, vibrant and clear. All the mermaids were colorful, no two looking exactly the same. One was a gradient of pink and green. A few were completely white, almost silvery. Even the most boring— with simple black hair and fewer fins and frills —still had beautiful tails that shone under the sun. He had given them all names too, replacing the string of letters and numbers they were classified under. Looking at the long string of identifiers for too long gave Giyuu a headache anyways.

Giyuu’s favorite by far was a man with fiery accents. Rengoku. Purgatory. Looking at him from afar reminded Tomioka of fire, warm and dangerous at the same time.

His torso was the most human thing about him, tan skin that lead up to broad and freckled shoulders. White patches of skin covered his chest, leaping up to the chin. Bringing Giyuu’s gaze to the creature’s face, he tried to find the differences from a human’s. It had all the aspects of a human face, flat nose and bushy eyebrows, and thick lips. Rengoku’s eyes were an off-putting shade of red, but it was easy to look past if you squinted. There wasn’t anything that should have looked wrong, but the feeling of something off couldn’t be pushed down. Tomioka spent plenty of his time at the facility analyzing the features to figure out exactly what it was. The eyes were slightly larger, pupils too small. His nose was a little small. It wasn’t built for breathing air.

That leads to the truly inhuman aspects of the beast. Frills surrounded his face, large gills carved into his neck. It looked like a lion’s mane, resembling curls though it didn’t quite look like true hair.

Down further, though not quite yet focusing on Rengoku’s long tail, hands melted into claws. The fingers ended in red spikes, curled like sharp nails. There was only one video of the mermaids eating, but watching them shred the pieces of fish easily justified the existence of such deadly appendages.

Finally, moving down to the base of his hips a tail started to form. The scales bloomed from his skin naturally, leading to the golden length. It resembled a snake almost, the way the scales interlocked. The bottom burst into a wide fan of fins that were a translucent red color. It was the most beautiful part of the creature, nearly 6 feet long without even counting the fans along the bottom.

Looking at Rengoku completely was hard to do. Tomioka’s eyes couldn’t help but dart around to focus on specific details and aspects of the species. Some of the frills that erupted from his body seemed purely aesthetic. It was hard not to be drawn in by their golden shine.

Going off the other pictures provided, or scribbled notes from his luckier coworkers, the man put together the aspects of their culture too. Most of the creatures were nude, at least by human standards. Very few covered their chests and most did not add to their appearance at all. Those that did used surprisingly natural accessories. Sashes made from seaweed or cut-up fishnets adorned their waists. Something similar to earrings were crafted from coral, which would also make appearances in their hair.

The fact that he had to learn these facts from photos and videos rather than seeing the creatures, in reality, made his heart ache. It only got worse as the research team got closer with the mermaids. A video is sent of them leaping toward fish the researchers throw. As they move they make odd little trilling noises. It’s a bit similar to a dolphin’s voice, though more smooth and less shrill.

They sing too, beautiful and clear noises that would send a sailor to his death. When introduced to human instruments, pan pipes, and flutes, and clarinets, they adapt to these easily. It might not be wise to interact with the colony on such a personal level, but even through photos, it’s clear how enticing they are. Maybe a human really did fuck one a few centuries ago.

But it becomes clear as to why humans and mermaids are separate. The creatures are ridiculously strong. Their active lifestyle leaves them muscled, but even the weakest are ten times stronger than an average human. Teeth rip through flesh and bone, claws tear open lobsters and clams. There is no doubt that these are hardened predators. Even without meaning to they could shred through a human.

That’s exactly what happens. One of his luckier (though maybe not in light of recent events) coworkers, who had been living on the island for a few weeks, strayed too close to the edge of the docks. A hand shot out to wrap around the frail ankle. Before anyone can even blink he’s dragged below the depths.

He lived but came out with a bad case of decompression illness. Fractures and bruises weave their way throughout most of the man’s body. There wasn’t even any ill intent behind the ‘attack.’ It was like watching a group of children play with a baby bird. By their standards, humans were unbelievably frail. Without really meaning to the offender had nearly crushed him.

So the man is sent home. It should be a tragedy, but they still need 12 research members. Which means they need someone new to come in.

Which means they need Giyuu.

And he should be scared too. Tomioka isn’t strong. Not compared to nine-foot-tall mermaids with layers of muscles and deadly claws. Maybe he’s a masochist. All he can focus on is iridescent scales and coral hair and fire swimming underwater.

—-

The waiting is painful. Packing and getting everything in order and riding the helicopter itself drags on. Giyuu feels dizzy and distracted right up until a hand is pulling him out of the helicopter and onto the sand of the beach.

Kagaya looks the happiest Tomioka can remember. Usually, the senior researcher is stone-faced or looking on with serious eyes. The soft smile gracing his face is surprising. It makes him look like a completely different person.

“I’m glad you could join us, though I wish it was under happier circumstances.” As they stroll towards the impromptu camp set up Kagaya continues to explain. Behind them, attendants rush to put Giyuu’s luggage away.

“The dock is off limits now, for obvious reasons. We’ve also tried to limit how close others get to the sunning rocks on the East side of the island.” The older man conducts himself like a man leading a college tour. His arms stretch out to gesture vaguely toward the mentioned areas. “And though the island itself is quite small we ask that if you chose to explore at all you find someone to buddy up with.”

Giyuu can’t imagine wanting to look at anything other than mermaids, but he nods in dumb agreement.

“Lunch is being served soon. You’re welcome to rest after your long flight, or you can join us afterward on the beach.”

All the tiredness leaves his body at the suggestion of doing actual research.

—-

The mermaids are beautiful. Tomioka couldn’t imagine lying around in his room when he could be staring at the magical creatures sitting around the beach. The real-life version is better than anything seen in photos. Everything looks ten times as vibrant.

It’s a shame that there’s now a firm line of caution tape keeping the research team back. Giyuu is about 10 feet away from the shore. Though a few mermaids will crop up onto the sand, most stay away from the shallower waters. The main source of information comes from cameras hidden below the water. A group of scientists sit gathered around the displays cooing whenever anything swims past.

It’s slightly more boring than imagined. Tomioka is grateful to be there still. He just imagined touching and meeting the creatures instead of watching them from behind the screen. In a way, it’s not too different than seeing them in photographs.

But on occasion, a group will flock towards the rocky shores to laze about. Their tails look like diamonds under the sun. It’s a wild array of colors from pinks to yellows to deep blues. More often than not their hair accents their tails in some way. Giyuu wishes he could feel the scales that cover their lower halves.

It’s strange to be around others too. In a way, his admiration of the creatures feels weaker because of the months spent studying alone. His coworkers have already been isolated together for quite some time. Tomioka was an outsider before as a fresh college graduate who fumbled with most of the orders given. It’s a weird feeling to have hoped for something for so long and the weird reality of the situation.

For the most part, Tomioka takes notes and observes behaviors on his own. It’s not as if no one else talks to him. Murata approaches him with a weird kind of nervousness and Tamayo is kind to everyone. He watches others analyze hair strands or lost scales from a quiet background. But Giyuu takes lunch alone and doesn’t do much in his free time. He ventures onto the lonelier stretches of the island instead of crowding around the main shore. Tomioka doesn’t go far enough to justify bringing a companion, just a ways away from the murmured chatter of acquaintances.

Somehow he finds things more interesting on his own. It feels less like work and more like adventure. Tomioka pseudo-explores until dusk when he returns to the cramped tent that’s become his home. The constant buzz of excitement— even if reality is a bit different from his fanciful expectations —often keeps him up.

So it’s no surprise that Giyuu cannot sleep. He unplugged his clock hours ago, hoping to escape its taunting as the time grows later and later. Cursing his earlier actions the man pulls himself out of bed. Sleep won’t come to him on its own.

He doesn’t bother to change out of his sleep clothes. Hopefully, he’ll be able to catch a few hours of slumber before truly waking. For now, he creeps out of his tent slowly. There’s a vague curfew in place, but nobody has gotten in trouble for breaking the soft rules yet.

Slipping on his sneakers Tomioka decides that the best course of action is to go on a short walk. The air is still warm and calm.

Setting off in a random direction, he hopes that a short trip will remind him of the late hour and lure sleep in. He sticks close to the border between beach and forest.

Wandering without focus leads him toward the water. This shore isn’t much different from what the rest of the land looks like. Large rocks jut out from the depths, creating a stage. The path that leads down is much less direct than the rest of the coast but still could be easily traversed. The hill is steep. Tomioka looks over the edges to watch the moon reflect on the waves. The push and pull is hypnotic. It helps to remind him of sleep. Dots of silver spread over the blanket of blue.

A sharp noise pulls Giyuu out of his haze. As his head twitches another call draws his head downward. His eyes dart around until they focus on a dot of red that peeks out.

A hand waves at him, beckoning the man closer.

He really shouldn’t, but before the thought has even passed the man is creeping down the tiny path that cuts through the small cliff. Giyuu’s toes are curling inside his toes as he inches down. Flying over the jagged rocks he finds a place to balance himself.

Rengoku looks even more beautiful up close. The moon reflecting off his golden tail is blinding. Even his tan skin looks like precious metal. Giyuu wonders if they’re sirens instead. He could easily be lured to his death like this.

It’s embarrassing how red his face turns when the merman lets out little trills. He can’t understand what the creature is trying to convey (none of the research team has figured out their language in any capacity) but smiles anyways. The colony appears to stay close together most of the time. If they are apart most still flock together in pairs of two or three. Seeing one alone is strange.

Tomioka wants to ask him. So far it seems that the language barrier goes both ways. That doesn’t stop the question from escaping his lips.

“Where are the others?”

The only answer is a cute tilt of the head and another little noise.

He really really shouldn’t, but Giyuu draws closer. A few broken bones would be well worth it. The rocks are still slick from high tide, but they’re wide enough to balance on somewhat safely.

“You’re alone?” Trying to convey the message he gestures alongside his words. Rengoku seems to understand this time, nodding eagerly. He pushes himself slightly higher out of the water, chest revealing itself more.

The two men (or one and a half men) bend closer. Communicating is mostly impossible, but both seem willing to try. Tomioka smiles and attempts another sentence.

“I like your hair.” The man points to his hair as he speaks. He waves wildly to the sea of flames surrounding his face. Lowering himself Giyuu settles onto the rocks. His pants are uncomfortably damp, but it’s a small price to pay. Reaching into his back pocket he cheers internally when the small cigarette lighter is fished out.

Lighting it with a quick stroke of his thumb Giyuu holds the flame in front of himself. “It’s like fire.”

Rengoku pushes himself out of the water more. His tail slides over the rocks as he finds a seat for himself. The mermaid’s face leans towards the light.

Tomioka shows him how the light works, fingers flicking several times. As sparks fly out from the gears they illuminate the area. He’s met with loud excited noises. Rengoku slowly moves closer without Giyuu’s notice. Creeping in his face is mere inches away from the tiny tube before it clicks off.

The mermaid’s cold breath echoes against Tomioka’s knuckles. His breathing is slightly labored outside of the water. It’s hard to see in the dark night, but Rengoku’s gills flap wildly.

He lets his clawed hand raise slightly. Giyuu tries to stay relaxed as the sharp nails near his fragile skin. They prod at the small tube of the lighter. Passing it over Tomioka watches the creature try to repeat the motion.

As his thumb strikes downward the plastic splinters under the threatening grip. Lighter fluid leaks over his hand, bits of metal and tubing dropping onto the rocks. Rengoku makes a broken sound, the fins on his head dropping slightly. Giyuu can’t help but laugh a little.

“I’ll get a new one.” It’ll probably take a month for something so frivolous to get delivered, but the creature's fascination with the simple object was adorable. The man tries to think of other easy trinkets to show him.

Rengoku is still pouting slightly, fistful of plastic. It looks tiny in his large palm. Giyuu feels no fear as he lets his fingers trace over the slick skin. He picks up the shattered pieces and places them into his pocket. For a while, he continues to let himself feel the strange combination of skin and scale. The mermaid lets his muscles flex but makes no motion to grab Tomioka.

It’s easy to see the difference in strength now. Without even meaning to Rengoku had busted the object in his loose grip. There’s a reason he doesn’t attempt to grab Giyuu back.

It’s late. His walk wasn’t intended to last this long. Though mermaids appear to be active throughout all parts of the day, substituting sleep with several shorter naps, humans don’t share the same quality. Tomioka is tired. In the lull of excitement, it catches up to him.

“I’ll bring something better next time, so you won’t break it.” Rengoku doesn’t understand his words, but the promise being spoken aloud cements it.

Pushing himself upwards the man cringes at the feeling of his cold and wet pants. Rengoku slides off the rocks, tumbling back into the ocean. He makes pouty noises as his head sticks out from the water. It’s some sort of goodbye.

—-

The next night he ventures back to the small outlook. Tomioka isn’t sure what he’s really doing. There’s no reason to believe there was any agreement about another rendezvous.

He supposes that, at worst, he can turn around and fall back asleep. Giyuu was smart enough to leave slightly earlier. Earlier that morning others commented on the bags under his eyes and slow work.

A small coin sits in his pocket. There’s nothing particularly special about it, but it’s something unbreakable. He didn’t pack much in terms of luggage and was struggling to find something that wouldn’t break.

As he approaches the sandy cliff Tomioka holds his breath. Looming over the edge he has to search for a moment. His eyes dart around frantically.

Giyuu is nearly doubled over by the time he catches a glimpse of red. Rengoku is pushed up against the wall of the hill. There’s a dip where water sits that his tail sinks into. It looks a little cramped.

The man stumbles over the bare path again. His feet skid over the rocks. The path to Rengoku is much clearer now. It’s easy to lean against the rock and the land is slightly drier than the slickness he walked over yesterday.

As he approaches the mermaid he’s greeted with flapping noises and little song-type sounds. The edges of his pants still get a little damp.

“Hello.” His mouth quirks upwards into a smile. Rengoku is even closer than yesterday. The mermaid’s chest leans against the stone. Giyuu can feel the body heat against him.

It’s just a second night, but excitement is already buzzing under his skin. The two are talking even though neither can really understand. Quiet Japanese is echoed by curled noises.

After a few moments and a brief dip in the talking Tomioka reaches into his pocket. “I brought this for you.” He talks slowly even though no amount of annunciation will get the words across. “It won’t break.”

It’s a one-yen coin. The size is so small it looks ridiculous in Rengoku’s palm. But it’s shiny and metal. He couldn’t imagine the mermaid breaking it.

Happy chirps fall from his lips. Rengoku rolls the edges of the coin in his hand. He balances it carefully between his fingers to hold it up to his eye. The silver looks strange surrounded by such brilliant gold.

Rengoku seems to have something of his own this time. He fumbles around in the small pool until he pulls out something enclosed within his fist.

They go through the same little ritual. The fish man moves incredibly slow, probably worried about harming Giyuu’s fragile skin. Rengoku spreads the other’s hand open, before dropping his gift.

Tomioka gets a small dark brown stone. It’s carefully chosen, clear by how perfectly circular it is. The surface is bare of any blemishes. It has almost a clear quality, maybe more crystal than rock.

“It’s very beautiful.”

Giyuu wonders if he’s viewed in the same way. His talking seen as low nonsensical murmurs. Rengoku’s trills suggest that he likes to echo Tomioka’s words in the same way.

Afterward, his hands are traced, an opposite scenario from yesterday. The red claws stay light, sharp edges pointed away from his skin. He keeps pushing the stone into the center of Tomioka’s palm, almost embedding it into the skin. The gold fins on his face twitch. It’s a vaguely excited motion, accented by his wide eyes.

When he closes his fist Rengoku pulls away. The mermaid stays close, face almost in Tomioka’s lap.

“Thank you, I forgot to say that.” His pants don’t have pockets, so he continues to cradle the gift in his hand.

As silence settles over them the sound of the waves act as a gentle accompaniment. Giyuu watches the small waves ripple over his scales. They interlock intricately, hundreds spreading over his tail.

“I can stay longer this time.” He really shouldn’t. The purpose of his venturing out earlier was to fall asleep at a reasonable time. The words don’t technically mean anything, not to the mermaid at least, but he can still use the excuse to justify his indulgent behavior.

They sit, exchanging occasional noises. Rengoku’s wild hair drags over the dark stone. A few strands lie on Giyuu’s pants. The thicker strands manage to resist matting, still flowing even in the dry air. It’s tempting to reach out and brush the damp locks. The longer pieces melt into the water like molten gold. Buried under the waves it seems even more soft.

He sits until he nearly nods off as is prompted by a soft tug of his pants. Rengoku stares up with wide eyes and a bemused smirk.

“I’ll go, sorry.” Sliding over the rocks he pushes himself up until he can stand. His knees are still a little weak with the need for sleep. He really should head back.

“But I’ll come again tomorrow if you’re here. I don’t mind it being late.”

He gets a little trill, maybe a confirmation, in return.

“Right, Ok. I’ll see you.” Tomioka flashes a tired smile. The one he gets back is much brighter.

—-

It’s easy for Giyuu to keep visiting. He always manages to find a small trinket to give away. A necklace or ring or even more coins make Rengoku purr with pleasure. Giyuu feels guilty about what he receives in turn, pale white bones or coral or lost iridescent scales. They’re more beautiful than anything he can offer. He wishes he could display such brilliant pieces, but instead, they hide in his bottom drawer.

It feels like some sort of affair. Night after night he escapes from his bedroom and ventures down the well-worn path. There’d surely be some sort of repercussions for the behavior. Though his lack of sleep occasionally bleeds into the days, nothing prevents him from slipping out at night. He starts finding time to nap during free hours or takes lunch in his room to nod off while it grows cold.

Nobody seems to be aware of his nightly escapades.

Sometimes, very rarely, Rengoku isn’t there. On those nights Tomioka should go back to bed and relish the extra rest. He finds himself listening to the sea anyways. It’s not quite as good company as the merman, but the quiet noise is soft and comforting. The silvery waves aren’t as brilliant as gold, but the shine is still valuable.

The nights when Rengoku is there are still far better. Even when there’s nothing to exchange. They’ve gotten bolder with touch too. Rengoku’s skin is burning hot. It stays warm all the way to the bottom of his fins. Tomioka hasn’t touched the scales much, it feels more private than even he can justify. But he’s still felt the slick slimy texture of them for brief moments.

It’s a unique kind of (what he hopes is) friendship. No words are ever exchanged, not words of actual meaning. Instead, small touches or the twitch of a facial expression says thousands of stories.

—-

It’s strange knowing so much about mermaids in the days while his coworkers talk. They pass around bits of loose scales that barely imitate the sleek feeling of the real tails. They’re pressed up under microscopes and dropped into solution afterward, discarded in a way. The admiration of the mermaids seems clinical. Every inch of their movement is analyzed for behaviors. It’s a guessing game of what’s abnormal or not.

Giyuu doesn’t presume that he knows the most about the creatures. He just notices that their noises aren’t directed to the researchers on the shore. Now that there’s distance between the two groups the mermaids don’t seem as interested.

They go back to watching them through tvs and blurry cameras. He sits in the back. Watching a film, as beautiful as the creatures are, is much less interesting than Rengoku meeting with him nearly every night.

Giyuu is known for being silent and solitary, so his general lack of intrigue isn’t particularly out of the ordinary. He does get excited on occasion too when they find tools made from fish bone or evidence of gravesites deep below the surface. It’s just the smaller things that tend to be brushed off easily.

The only downside to not looking through hours and hours of footage is that there are things he misses. Tomioka has tried looking through the static-filled videos dozens of times, but after 30 minutes the endless waves and only occasional flickers of activity leave him bored and nearly asleep most times.

Mostly he just catches up on the important things from his coworkers.

—-

“What am I looking at?” Murata seems eager as he shows off the blurry footage, but Tomioka doesn’t see anything exciting about it. Two mermaids are exchanging bits of coral and little shiny things. There doesn’t seem to be anything else to it.

“We think this is how they court, in a way. They only give gifts like that to each other. The things they wear in their hair and on their chests basically proclaim that they're spoken for.” Murata grows uncharacteristically loud as he speaks, hands waving wildly. “If you pay attention you’ll notice that this one-“ He taps towards the smaller pastel mermaid, covered in whites and gentle pinks. “-only ever accepts the gifts that A27 gives her. In turn, he does the same. If you look through the footage there’s a clear pattern…”

Giyuu can’t focus on whatever else the man is saying now. Instead, he thinks back to the small trove of gifts sitting at the bottom of his nightstand drawer. He’s grown quite the collection of things Rengoku has given him. But that isn’t the same, not at all. It’s an exchange of culture. Giyuu instigated it. It's not the same as the tender trade being shown to him.

He doesn’t think about how Rengoku traces his hand after they trade. He’s not scared of the claws anymore. They’ve learned how to handle the smooth gentle skin. Even though there’s still a tiny scratch on his finger where he wasn’t as careful.

The rest of the video is mostly nothing. Giyuu is barely watching it anyways. “That’s cool… And it’s always romantic?”

“We think so. Their relationships work similar to ours. A few of the mermaids have bonded in little groups. Until we get more information it’s hard to tell if that’s some form of polyamory or something else.”

At least Tomioka isn’t being chased by two mermaids, or more. Maybe he’s not even being chased by one. It’s confirmation bias. One blurry video and Murata’s ravings don’t really mean anything.

He’s nodding along to whatever the man is saying. “That’s really um, that’s cool Murata-san. Keep me updated on your findings.” Tomioka slowly backs up until his coworker can find an end to his rambling. Luckily most of his conversations end when Tomioka can no longer stand any more social interaction so it doesn’t come off as out of place. Murata manages to pick up on the quickly fleeting interest and wraps his sentence up neatly.

“Right well, if you find any more footage like this be sure to let me know! I’ve gone through a good few hours, but it’s takes too long and I’m worried if I speed it up…”

His shaky voice slowly fades away as Giyuu stumbles back toward his room. The man hasn’t eaten dinner yet, but he lies in his bed hoping to grab a few hours of sleep before meeting his nightly visitor. Usually, he doesn’t bother, comfortable with the constant feeling of tiredness. This evening there’s a bit of heaviness in his bones that isn’t usually there. Hopefully, it’ll drag him toward sleep.

—-

His return to Rengoku that night is much different. Giyuu can’t brush away the anxiousness that holds tight onto his heart. It’s nearly suffocating the way it consumes him. Even as he approaches the shore the waves are muted beneath the sound of his beating heart.

If he was 14 again waiting behind the school with a letter in hand this feeling would make sense. But Giyuu is a grown adult. He doesn’t feel he should fall to such childish impulses. That doesn’t change the way his fingers twitch as he ventures down to the water.

Rengoku is further out this time. Their exact meeting place often changes. Tomioka carefully steps over jagged rocks creating a rocky platform. Giyuu should’ve worn a swimsuit for this. Once he feels stable on the bridge he takes two large steps before stepping into the deep blue water. It’s lukewarm, warmed from the long hours of sun.

Rengoku is a few inches away. He spins and cheers with wide eyes. While Tomioka kicks his legs to keep himself afloat hands curl around his shoulders. The merman moves slowly. He can hardly manage to brush against the human without fear of harming him.

In reassurance, Giyuu wraps his arms around Rengoku’s neck. In such close proximity, his shoes occasionally slide against the slick tail below the water. He should’ve thought the decision through more because his sweats are weighing him down as they become saturated with water. It’s not a real problem but the feeling of wet clothes will be cumbersome on his walk back.

As Rengoku gets used to the feeling of a body against him, he begins to let his hands roam more boldly. They move over Tomioka’s sides and rest around the man’s hips. He’s making all kinds of noises, chirps and hums, and loud gargling sounds. They’re cheerful, punctuated by his wide eyes and smile. Though his arms apply light pressure Giyuu is pushed upright against his chest. Their noses keep bumping as Rengoku continues to twitch and talk.

It takes a moment for Tomioka to gather himself. Once he’s comfortably afloat the man leans back to look at Rengoku properly. Wild fiery hair extends to fill the rest of his vision. Red locks run over his knuckles, flowing over the mermaid’s shoulders.

“Sorry, shit- I should’ve thought this out more.” Rengoku doesn’t usually talk over him, but the chatter tonight seems endless. His face keeps moving in until the back of Giyuu’s head is resting against one of the rough stones. The human’s eyes slip closed while the other’s nose runs over his head. It skins over his cheeks and neck while warm breath pushes against the skin.

Below the water line, his tail flicks back and forth. It curls against Giyuu’s ankles, pushing and pulling against the kicks keeping the man afloat. His entire body is bumping against the mermaids. Rengoku really does embody fire, warmth spreading over his body.

After a few minutes, the creature’s chatter finally dies down. He settles for staring at Tomioka with wide happy eyes.

The thought that nothing about this could possibly be romantic is becoming less and less likely. With full access to the man, Rengoku’s hands roam over his hair and skin. He tugs at the short black bangs and longer pieces that curl around his ears. Giyuu keeps his own hands still hovering in the air over the broad back.

Despite the urgency all of Rengoku’s actions hold he manages to stay gentle. As he pushes the pressure remains light. When there’s no tiny fraction of room to press further into his incessant poking and drive forward finally stops.

With red cheeks Tomioka manages a few motions of his own. One hand slips down the freckled shoulders to cup his cheek. There’s a few scales that spread over his cheekbones. Moving still he nudges the edges of Rengoku’s lips.

Tomioka wasn’t sure if mermaids kissed. But as soon as he’s prompted with the smallest touch their lips are crashing together like the waves around them. Rengoku is good at kissing too, better than Giyuu is. He fumbles to keep up with the excited pace the fish man sets.

It’s hard to separate, Rengoku not needing to pull away for air. Tomioka is close to drowning before he can push the other back and breathe in. He’s still unused to the affection. Giyuu doesn’t often receive it, even from regular humans. The touch is suffocating in a nice way. It feels like a blanket wrapped around him after being stuck out in the cold.

He’s not sure exactly how to navigate this, their chests still pressed together. Pulling his hands back Giyuu tries to communicate in a different way.

His fingers point towards himself, and then at the body across from him. As Tomioka’s hands intertwine he feels foolish in the bare bones attempts. “I mean- ah fuck.” Voice wavering slightly he tries to gather himself.

Before he can talk again (and probably dig himself into a hole) Rengoku rewards Giyuu with another kiss. This one is much more tender, lasting only a few seconds. Hands move off his hips to intertwine in understanding.

With another chirp and happy hum the pair share one more kiss.

[burnwater13]

Kuiil on Arvala-7 speaking with Din Djarin about Grogu. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 7, The Reckoning. Calendar from DateWorks. Caption reads: I don't think it was engineered. I've worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly. - Kuiil.

“Too ugly”? Wow. That stung. Grogu didn't know what to say, other than  everyone couldn't be as handsome, good looking, charismatic, and esthetically pleasing as an Ugnaught. It wasn’t Grogu's fault that his parents, pollen donators, genetic precursors, hosts, or whatever you call the people who created him… somehow, weren’t the pinnacle of physical beauty. To be fair, he didn't even know who they were, so he couldn’t bring it up to them and get an explanation that Kuiil would find satisfactory. It just was not his fault. 

On the other hand it was nice to know that he hadn't been ‘engineered’. Imagine someone sitting down at a comp and inputing the requirements of the project. 

“Needs excellent hearing, audio processing center must be highly protected, multiple forms of communication acceptance sensors required for data acquisition,  visual data sensors must work in all lighting conditions, including infra-red and ultraviolet. Long eyelashes are not necessary due to other reaction factors, etc. etc. etc.”

Kuiil had both long eyelashes and impressively bushy eyebrows. No wonder he thought Grogu was ugly. His eyelashes were stubby and he hadn’t actually developed any substantial facial hair. It was a pity because he was certain that if he had been able to grow a goatee and a mustache, the Ugnaught would have admitted that it was possible to be non-engineered as well as beautiful. 

On the other hand, Kuiil had noted that Cara Dune was actually pretty enough to be from the cytocaves of Nora. Grogu didn’t understand why. Cara looked like an average human to Grogu. Her face was regular and practically symmetrical. Was that a sign of beauty? Grogu shrugged. Maybe it was. No wonder Kuiil thought he was ugly. If you looked at him very carefully you might notice that his left ocular bump was a tiny bit bigger than his right ocular bump. That sort of asymmetry had never bothered him before, but now he realized that it could be a critical flaw that the Ugnaught couldn't ignore.  Dank Farrik.

That’s probably what the Ugnaught liked about the Mandalorian. That helmet of his was perfectly symmetrical. It was a thing of beauty and you didn't have to worry about it being natural or engineered. Of course it was engineered. It was a Mandalorian helmet. Those things didn’t grow on trees, sprout from the ground, or even pop out of a sea creature because it was the irritating offspring of a tiny speck of beskar oar. Nope. It was made. Probably hand made by a Mandalorian armorer at some point in the distant past. 

Grogu had a theory that Mandalorians were hideous creatures that were only semi-human and they had to cover their heads because if regular humans saw them, they would scream and faint. He also suspected that even if they were regular humans, after wearing a helmet all the time they would likely turn into a hideous creature that looked like the pale underbelly of a worm, with a beard and eye brows that desperately needed a clean and bald heads from the interior surface of the helmet rubbing the hair so much it was like sandpaper over time. Uff. Now he was just grossing himself out. 

The one theory he didn't like to examine was that the Mandalorian could remove his helmet whenever he wanted, but chose not to when other people were around so no one would speculate about his origin - cytocaves of Nora or regular reproduction for humans. That just didn’t seem fair. Considering the size of his own ears, Grogu knew that he couldn’t get away with the same behavior. No one could make him a helmet that didn’t squish his ears, expose them to dangerous speculation or double his weight so he couldn't even move around in it. 

Normally he would have tried to investigate the situation when the Mandalorian was asleep. He never had to worry about figuring out when the bounty hunter was asleep. He snored like ten slavering barghest. Loud and proud as Ian used to say when they were at the Jedi Temple. And that might have been true in the Mandalorian’s case, but he was also a lighter sleeper than a stepped on Loth cat. 

The few times Grogu had just hopped out of his ‘pram’ to go use the privy or search the Razor Crest for something to eat other than ration packs (you’d be surprised at how many delicious spiders you could find in the average cargo hold), the Mandalorian had been on hot on his trail an instant later. It was like he was faking the snoring just to lull Grogu into a false sense of security.  Dank Farrik!

In any case, the Mandalorian's status as ugly or beautiful, engineered or just thrown together, was moot. No way to know. Which also wasn’t fair. It was annoying enough that a beautiful person like Kuiil had made those comments. The fact that the Mandalorian hadn’t jumped to his defense made things even worse, plus the fact that he couldn’t be judged by that same set of standards because he was protected from scrutiny by his Mandalorian-ness. 

Grogu sighed. This had never been an issue at the Jedi Temple. People there learned not to make comments of such a personal nature. Not because they were afraid who ever they talked that way about would use the Force to find a way to punish them or shut them up, Jedi didn’t do things like that, but because everyone there was just as beautiful as everyone else. It was just true. When the Force was your friend, then it settled around you like an aura and showed how balanced and good you were. Master Beq had explained how all that worked practically a lifetime ago. When the younglings looked at each other they realized he was absolutely correct and they just didn’t worry about appearance. 

Now here he was, back on Arvala-7 and that aura that had protected him from all sorts of scrutiny had vanished. Was he no longer balanced in the Force? Uff. That was pretty likely. You can’t end up eating a little container of delicious pasty stuff without permission and maintain balance. Grogu had never considered it a problem until just then, when he realized it must have been the Mandalorian’s beauty cream. Dank Farrik!

Grogu sitting in bin at Kuiil's moisture farm on Arvala-7 while Kuiil speaks with Din Djarin. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 7, The Reckoning. Caption reads: I don't think it was engineered. - Kuiil

[crinosg]

Shadmocks are rather unfortunate, pitiful creatures created through magical hybridization of werewolves, Ghouls, and Vampires. These experiments have produced numerous different hybrid species, but the Shadmock is generally considered the weakest of the lot.

Shadmocks appear human, although they possess certain qualities that betray their monstrous lineage; bushy eyebrows, pale sunken skin. They may not be physically unattractive, but they are generally found to be repellent by most other beings.

Shadmocks are not evil by nature, in fact most of them are very shy and withdrawn, living alone as collectors of rare treasure and occult lore. They are however all very lonely, craving companionship, and when denied that companionship, or if it is threatened in someway, the Shadmock becomes angry, and when a Shadmock becomes angry, they whistle.

While lacking most of the powers of their more dangerous kin (out side of some resistances and a higher than normal constitution) the Shadmocks have one devastating power at their disposal; their whistle. The sound of which rots and putrefies the flesh of its target, usually reducing them to a rotting mass of meat. The Shadmocks sometimes use these zombie husks as companions, but quickly tires of them.

[bloodbagcutesy2112]

D&D OC | Dassali

(Art by tsukhood on Meiker!)

(Dassali is part of a homebrew race of Shapeshifters. In this version, all Shapeshifters have grey-ish blue skin and black hair, and their blood changes hue depending on the light it's in. More about their blood, if it spills onto something, it will start to sizzle and burn into anything below it, almost like acid. If a vampire or any bloodsucking creature drank their blood, they would essentially get food poisoning. Most of them identify as whatever they're born as, (male or female) but some of them identify as they or it. This is because they usually tag along with royals. Their ability to change their appearance makes it so they can easily seduce people to get what they or their master wants. Dassali falls into this catigory, but they were born male. Despite that, Dassali has no problem being referred to as he or she. Also, when these shapeshifters are in firelight, they glow an icy blue. Two of their species traits are that bioluminescence, and nightvision.)

They're a chaotic neutral Shapeshifter cleric, and they have grey-ish blue skin, eyes of the same color, black hair that covers their torso, and they usually wear a long black gown or a black shirt, black vest, long black coat, black pants, and black boots. Looks-wise, it's hard to visually identify what gender they are. Since their face is angular and their eyebrows are rather bushy, but they also have pouty lips and thick eyelashes. Their voice is deep and velvety, and personality-wise, they can be rather teasing. But, this is only a mask. In real life, they are timid and simply want to live a life where they can be seen as someone, rather than something. They are also disgusted by being called "cute" or "precious", as it brings up memories of their being a SA victim.