#Every writing style
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I just really appreciate amc’s iwtv for taking the source material so lovingly into their arms and saying “I will make you so much more interesting”
#no shade bc I know the writing style is beautiful prose#but in terms of plot it’s like 85% Louis’ philosophical musings#and the other 15% is him falling in love with every vampire that moves in his direction#amc interview with the vampire#amc iwtv#iwtv#100 notes#500 notes#1k notes#1.5k notes
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Steve’s idea of love means fighting tooth and nail for it and Tony’s idea of love means sacrificing everything for it. So all Steve sees is Tony giving up and all Tony sees is Steve’s affection turn to hatred

#THEYRE DOOMED!!! THEYRE LITERALLY DOOMED BRO. ITS TRAGIC BROOOOO THEYRE SO SIMILAR BUT SO DIFFERENT#Steve rogers#Tony stark#stevetony#marvel#btw this is how I frame their relationship styles in every fic I write. if u want some insight
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Been seeing so many cool Clickies on my dashboard since getting into GGG, I just had to take the time to draw a few of them- plus, it was a bit of a challenge to try new styles. A lot of these guys were also super influential to how I draw and even think about Click Clack on my own time, so you should definitely check them out! Names below the cut cus it got long heehoo
Top left: @malartsorte
Top middle (holding papers): @scribblelimbo
Top right: @wishgraanted
Leftmost middle: @beastwhimsy
Middle (peace sign!): @sootnuki
Rightmost middle: @molabuddy
Bottom left: @pespillo
Bottom middle: @artuurle
Bottom right: @modmad
I know I said it already, but all of yall are super cool and I had a lot of fun challenging myself to make this! Keep on being awesome 👍
#ggg#great god grove#click clack#my art#genuinely some of you guys completely changed how i interpret click clack. for real#both visually yes but also like#as a character.#special shoutout to malartsorte and modmad for being huge influences on my headcanons#a lot of stuff yall brought up was stuff i never even considered. its cool#beastwhimsy has always been a huge inspiration for my art style and is one of the reasons i gave ggg a try#in the first place#and ur click is so cuuute and awesome and was the first insp i remember seeing of bnuuy click. changed me#graant's fic holds a VERY special place in my heart its so good. and your take on click clack is so fucking unique and phenomenal#as much as your writing is#pespillo has such a fuckin cute click (and thesp) and has really neat takes ive delighted in reading#SOOTNUKI has been a huge insp for a lot of thangs and also just a delight to see art from. i get so happy every time i see one of ur guys#crossing my dash#marc. points at you. i fuckin love ur click hes so awesome#sophies art is so fucking pleasing and helps remind me that he is cartoony cus i tend to drift towards the realism side#and then i see ur stuff and go wait. cartoony stuff is so pleasing and fun. and i do it and have fun!!!!!!!#and artuurle. duude idk all of your stuff is fucking phenomenal. every time i see a post from you i get so excited#both your art and aus and headcanons and everything is all so so so delightful#im so glad to be able to see so many cool artists doing cool things#wow i rambled a lot in here. uh. if youre reading this still. sorry(?)#have a nice day
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Style in episode 4 made me soft in a way that I truly did not expect. I’ve used the word “guileless” (def: innocent and without deception) before to describe him but I don't think that has been shown more clearly then in this episode.
He tries to be manipulative and lasts for all of one single morning and then comes running to Fadel the second he hears about Fadel asking about him. He's so excited, so exuberant at the thought that Fadel misses him, so happy that his little (terribly obvious and juvenile) plan worked.
Which is why I think he was genuinely taken aback when Fadel only had harsh words for him as a reply (this is not a criticism of Fadel; in this he has been consistent. Doesn't mean they weren't hurtful though). Look at the way Style's grin slowly dies. Watch the way he straightens and backs away a bit, like he wasn't expecting the clawed swipe of Fadel's dismissal.
But Style is resilient. He's tenacious. We see him rally and steel himself to resume his pursuit: because Style is nothing if not determined to hold on to the thinnest thread of hope that he's breaking through Fadel's shell. And can I just take a moment to get emotional about Style offering forgiveness even when Fadel hasn't asked for it?
This, though. I do think this was uncalled for (this is a criticism of Fadel). You can make the argument that Fadel has tried honesty and blunt rejection and it hasn't worked, but I would have respected Fadel more if he'd stuck to his guns and kept rejecting Style in the same manner. Especially when everything else about his character shows he's actually very up front and direct. With Bison, with Kant, hell even with himself.
Fadel is mocking Style's clear and wanton desire for him. Look at the sardonic little grin Fadel gets right before he says, "You won't ever get what you want." Consider the way he was touching Style with that gentle, focused intensity; how he cuts up his shirt and tears it open and leans in close in a way that suggests purposefulness while having zero intention of seeing it through. Fadel knew what he was doing and he did it on purpose, to hurt.
And you can see that Style is genuinely hurt here. I think he has always been prepared for Fadel's rejection, but not his cruelty. Not Fadel making sport of him and his very real emotions and desires. Because Fadel has been rude and condescending before, but he's never been contemptuous like he is here.
And I wonder, partly, if this is because both times we see Style and his dad, his dad is scolding/chiding/correcting him to some extent. Perhaps that's just how they interact. Or perhaps, as implied by the way Style sarcastically said "Thanks, dad" as Fadel drives away in episode 1, Style doesn't enjoy the way his father scolds him and always has criticisms or corrections for him. Perhaps Style just wants to be accepted for who he is, especially by the man he is starting to have real feelings for.
Edit (after Ep 5): I'm so sorry, Papa Style, I did you so wrong. ;u;
@lazzarella made a post recently about Dunk's phenomenal acting in this scene (among others) and I concur so hard about how intense and scorching and "both fiery and steely" Style's anger feels in this scene. He's furious and wounded and you can see it in his gaze, the tension in his jaw, the way he bares his teeth up at Fadel when he says "...punch me in the face? Go on!"
And honestly, he is justified. Fadel's incredulity has no basis here: he stooped back to using public humiliation, something which Style very pointedly has not engaged with since his conversation with Bison in episode 2. Every instance of approaching Fadel since then has clearly been aimed to involve himself in Fadel's private life*.
*Yes even or maybe especially the support group in episode 3. Because while Style may have been treating the whole thing too lightly, all of it is directed privately to Fadel with his secret looks and winks. As far as the other support group members are concerned, Style was a somewhat overdramatic new member that had no connection to Fadel.
But what Fadel did by cutting up his shirt and sending him out in shame regressed them back to their early dynamic, which was far more antagonistic.
This is why Style lashes out at the support group again. Look at the anger simmering in his eyes. The way he makes direct, insistent eye contact with Fadel as he speaks, returning again when he talks about feeling used. Style, overall, is a character that doesn't take anything too seriously so it's almost shocking to see him this visibly angry and so pointedly challenging Fadel in a space where Fadel cannot easily brush him off.
But even now, even in all his rage and hurt, Style is true to himself and his heart. He doesn't want revenge or an apology, he wants Fadel to acknowledge that the thing between them, fragile as it is, matters; that what they did meant something to the both of them.
And this is why I was so broken about Style offering forgiveness without Fadel asking for it earlier: because all it took was Fadel admitting that he missed Style for him to unreservedly offer reassurance and safety for Fadel's heart. There is nothing ambiguous about what Style says at the jeep: he makes his own intentions clear by offering certainty, taking responsibility, promising the very commitment he was asking Fadel for.
He makes himself vulnerable to and for the man who literally just mocked and humiliated him that morning. Style really just let all his anger go immediately like that.
And no, I don't think he was doing all that for the car. This is just how Style talks. He has a flair for the dramatic, and this was the perfect way to reveal his news to Kant. But look at how delighted, how filled with boyish glee he is while he tells Kant the news about Fadel agreeing to be his boyfriend. Consider the way he reacted in the moment: the joy in his voice and the wonder in his eyes when he said "Really? We're dating now?", the way he covers Fadel's cheeks in a hundred butterfly kisses.
Also, a thought that occurred to me - could this be Style's first relationship? We know from episode 1 that he sleeps around, but there's seemingly no mention of a previous serious/committed relationship so far. His dad seems surprised to hear Style is seriously pursing someone. Could Fadel be the first person to capture his interest for long enough that Style developed actual feelings?
Which is also why his fear is now so visceral. He is genuinely terrified of Fadel, but I don't think it's just because he's realised how dangerous Fadel is (after all, he's known that to some extent since he watched Fadel break a man's arm with his thighs). No, his fear stems from the fact that Fadel now has reason to hurt Style.
In the face of the betrayal of his own trust, Style answers Kant's plea to friendship and entangles himself with Kant's lie willingly... and thereby forfeits all rights to the safety he was so confident of in the middle of the woods by an abandoned factory. Because now Style knows that if Kant gets found out, it won't matter that Style didn't intentionally mislead and take advantage of Fadel's vulnerability in the forest. Because he still chose Kant over Fadel here, and that makes him undeserving of the open door he asked Fadel to give him.
Style is incredibly transparent in all his thoughts and emotions and this is why I say that Style is guileless: he is incapable of true deception. His heart is too close to the surface, his desires too obvious, his thoughts too clearly broadcasted on his face.
He is the perfect foil; not only to Fadel (who until this episode held everything so buried inside his chest that we only understand his true feelings in snatches of memories or moments when Fadel is certain that he is truely alone) but also Kant (whose deception, whilst cracking under pressure, is intentional and calculated - thinking about that bowling alley accomplice right now - in a way Style never could be).
And this means that any success on his part in the upcoming episode(s) in deceiving Fadel is going to fall on either Fadel's own willful blindness or the suspension of disbelief the genre requires of the viewer -- but it won't be because Style is actually any good at playing the role now that he knows the full truth.
This is why my heart breaks for Style. Because Kant forced a burden on him that he was in no way prepared to bear. And eventually Style will have to choose between his loyalty to Kant and his burgeoning feelings for Fadel and, regardless of his choice, the narrative demands that Style sacrifice a piece of his own heart in the process.
#Shoutout to Dunk who did an AMAZING job of showing a frankly breathtaking range of emotions this episode.#Rewatching it I was constantly overwhelmed again and again by how exhausting it must be to embody the intensity of all of Style's emotions;#they are so raw and unfiltered and VISCERAL.#And Dunk also manages to do an amazing job with the quiet intensity Style has when he responds to Fadel so tenderly in the factory.#And then the transition to fear and the way he's torn between what friendship and what could be love if it weren't for Kant's circumstances#is asking of him.#Every episode I think my love for this boy has reached its peak and then the next episode comes and my heart somehow expands again.#hui talks thai bl#hui talks thk#the heart killers#the heart killers the series#thk meta#style sattawat#fadel#fadelstyle#dunk natachai#thk ep 4#also i realised as i was writing this that this will be my 1000th post!! :O so apt that it is for the boy that has my whole entire heart <3
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cressida practicing writing by putting all her thoughts into unsent letters to eloise
all her feelings of betrayal and inadequacy and yearning and loneliness
and then her aunt jo finds all these sealed letters and mails them off trying to be helpful and then cressida is losing her mind when she cant find them
meanwhile eloise has just received several months worth of mail all at once to a rainy secluded castle in scotland
#bridgerton#bridgerton s3#cressida cowper#bridgerton spoilers#creloise#eloise bridgerton#eloise x cressida#lesbian#eloise watching as cressida'a thoughts and feelings evolve along with her writing style#eloise having to cycle through all these emotions at once instead of having time to process them like cressida#OR eloise reading one letter every morning and spending the rest of the day thinking about her
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Reading articles on why folks hate adverbs and losing my mind. Who convinced you that complexity is passive? What caused you to read nuance as anxiety? How have you lived in a world where no one ever spoke kindly to you? And why do you prefer it?
#I'm trying to write a short story without adverbs right now#it's a syntax style that has always sounded so inert to me like every sentence is having to lug its way into the next one#thinking of it as a writing challenge is helping#however-- complaining constantly is helping quite a lot more#writeblr#writblr#writing#writer problems#writer community#writers on tumblr#writers and poets#writerscommunity#creative writing#writing humor#writing memes#writing problems#writing process#writer#writers community#writing community#adverbs#syntax#writing style
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seeing people claim that lucanis is 'bad representation' is hilarious to me because in so many ways he's really the closest anything has ever gotten to capturing my own personal experience. sorry for being bad real life queer and mental health/neurodiversity representation folks 😔 I'll take time to reflect and do some work on myself and try to do better in the future
#it's lucanis and harrowhark nonagesimus. I'm basically in the middle of that venn diagram. it's about as fun as it sounds lol#but. we. stay. silly. we stay silly. *deep breath* we stay silly#dragon age#dragon age: the veilguard#lucanis dellamorte#it does show bioware kind of are fucked coming and going tho. taash' character arc holds your hand too much apparently#and the moment lucanis' arc lets go of your hand for a second you walk directly into traffic and scream 'why would bioware do me like this'#is either arc perfect? no of course not as I apparently have to state every time to the point of tediousness. but also there clearly#is no winning everyone over anyway and people will invent problems that frankly do not exist. tilting at windmills gamer style#'is this just maybe not 100% 4 me but a bit for someone else? no. it's the writers who are objectively wrong and we all agree on this'#tooltip pop up: that is literally never true. there's NOTHING we all agree on. this is dragon age fandom.#you have been alive long enough to write words and access the internet. you know this if you search your heart#and think about it for even a second. so please do that before posting in the tag where I have to see it#as always 'your experience is not universal' is a useful thing to keep in the back of your head lol#also why lucanis is autistic To Me. a different flavour than taash and potentially bellara but the flavour closest to um. well. me lol
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Searching for larries/directioners from LATAM/ Buscando a larries/directioners de LATAM (please boost).
I want to do a list with blogs of latam larries/directioners so people can follow them. So if you are from latam (doesn't matter that you are not currently living in latam but at least that you were born in latam or you have an association with latam for your family and grow up with the culture from any country of latam), reblog this post and put in the tags: 1. That you are from latam 2. If you are comfortable also de country (if you are not skip this one) 3. You can also put in the tags what 1d boys you talk about (doesn't matter how many, is just info so other people follow).
I hope this list motivate to follow people from latam (especially the ones who live outside of latam). I wanted to do this for a while, I think in the fandom is important to follow different people around the world to understand others cultures, I also think that when the 1d boys visit that specific country sometimes there are things that are better explain from the people that actually live there or had live there. Besides that I love that more people can follow latam blogs I also making this because I don't want to see again xenophobic comments in the fandom when the 1d boys visit latam and I think if more people follow latam blogs could help to minimize this type of comments.
My mutuals also reblog this, I don't want to miss anyone by mistake. Even if you are not from latam please boost this so it can reach more people.
Quiero hacer una lista de blogs de latam larries/directioners para que las personas sigan los blogs. Así que si eres de latam (no importa si actualmente no vives en latam pero al menos que hayas nacido en latam o tienes alguna asociación con latam por tu familia y hayas crecido con la cultura de algún país de latam) reblogea esta publicación y escribe en los tags: 1. Que eres de latam 2. Si quieres mencionar tu país (si no quieres no lo hagas) 3. Mencionar quiénes de los chicos de one direction hablas (no importa cuántos, pero sólo para tener esa información y que las personas tengan más datos para seguir los blogs).
Espero que esta lista motive a seguir personas de latam (especialmente los que viven fuera de latam). Quería hacer esto por un tiempo, creo que en el fandom es importante seguir a diferentes personas alrededor del mundo para entender otras culturas, también creo que cuando los chicos de one direction visitan un específico país a veces hay cosas que se pueden explicar mejor por las personas que viven ahí o han vivido ahí. Además de que amo que más personas puedan seguir blogs de latam también hago esto porque ya no quiero ver de nuevo comentarios xenofóbicos en el fandom cuando alguno de los chicos de 1d visita latam y creo que si más personas siguen a blogs de latam puede ayudar a disminuir estos comentarios.
Para mis mutuals también rebloguen esto, no quiero perderme mencionar a alguien que sea de latam. Aunque no seas de latam por favor reblogea esto para que pueda llegar a más personas.
x
#now that niall is coming to latam i thought is a good time to do this#i also want to have this list to share it every time a 1d boy is in latam doing shows#boost#signal boost#niall horan#louis tomlinson#harry styles#zayn malik#liam payne#one direction#larry#larry stylinson#larries#sorry if i made a mistake writing this i re read this so many times i can't think anything to change#latam search blogs#búsqueda de latam blogs
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you know what this world needs rn? a distraction in the form of supernatural animal crossing AU and yeah I'm still mixed up over which animals to make them even after I already made them don't @ me I'm indecisive

oh yeah. the cookers themselves. still having nightmares over drawing Sam's antlers btw even though I drew one and then flipped the image because I hate them and they're still awful. also Cas needed a sweater vest don't deny it. also also I'm very aware the proportions are horribly inconsistent this is why I don't really animate anymore guys
(01/20/25)
#my art#supernatural#spn#spn fanart#castiel#dean winchester#destiel#sam winchester#animal spn#animal sam#animal dean#animal cas#squirrel dean#moose sam#owl cas#animal crossing#animal crossing style#but its really bad and inconsistent ow#also i realized while writing the date (which i hide in every art thing for sorting reasons) that ive still been writing 2024#i have no idea how long ive been doing that :|#spn animal crossing au
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this fat liberation month I'm wishing for every british author to be visited by the ghosts of fatphobic characters they've written past present and future
#this book I'm reading just hit me with a suckerpunch of VIOLENT fatphobia chapter#just like the most vile shit which is such a shame because I was having so much fun with the book up to that point 😭#it's just like the way JK Rowling writes fat people like the same style of fatphobia#for the record I specified british because for some fucking reason there's always fatphobia in every book I read by a british author#but this is a lesson authors of every nationality need to learn#lyla's talking again#tw fatphobia#fat liberation
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A Mandated Holiday Break - Chapter 3
Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1094
Written: 21st December 2024
Notes: Post-relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in.
Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11
Masterlist AO3
His arms feel lighter, colder... sluggishly opening worn eyes. The bed is empty, his hand reaches out but there's no ghost of warmth.
This has happened before. You hate to wake him up when you get up, alarm not needed because your hours as a hunter have permanently ruined your sleep patterns.
The first time, he'd felt fear grip his heart in an icy hand. Tightening, twisting and tearing. Now he just sighs into the air, turning over in his bed to look for phone. Checking there's nothing imperative that requires him, shooting off a message to the prince that you need some clothes brought over.
Your hunter uniform was beginning to resemble scrap, and he'd laid one of his shirts out for you to use until the prince could deliver more options.
Or he could buy you more... still you frowned at him when he suggested such a thing, telling him with a little laugh that you had plenty of clothes.
He hadn't yet worked out how to explain that dressing you was a satisfaction for him. Seeing you wearing things he chose, he paid for? He was still a dragon through and through. Decorating his lair and his greatest treasure.
He understood, however, that certain things you owned were picked because you liked them, found comfort in them. Safe things. So if it meant dragging the prince out here with a bag in tow, he didn't think either of them were too put out by it.
Reluctant to leave his bed, but yearning to have you close by again, Sylus pulls himself out of his nest. Flick of the hand righting his covers, and padding out in slippers and sweats.
As soon as he leaves the room, music drifts towards him, accompanied by very familiar voices, and he follows its call like you're a siren.
Even if you were, he knows he'd drown blissfully for and with you.
His kitchen is filled with the scent of sugar and bread, hitting his nose as soon as he swings open the door. The twins are sat on the kitchen counters, bobbing their heads to a song he doesn't know, and he's pretty sure they don't know either, judging by the 'do do do's' they're singing along with it.
He almost wants to complain, because they're loud enough to cover some of the notes you're singing, but you're laughing and smiling amidst the words. Cheeks dimpled...
Your shoulder is bared because his sweater is too big, slipping down, and covering the tops of your thighs. Shorts underneath, long fluffy socks up to your knees. Foot tapping the floor as you mix dough in a bowl.
You're like an angels song.
Head bobbing, tilting as you sing out to words he doesn't recognise. Not that he needs to.
I'm on my knees waiting for the sound.
It's a strange feeling, he's tried to replicate how your voice makes him feel with his own. He's learned how to sing to music that he doesn't really understand. Tunes that he can't quite replicate. Sylus listens to everything he can find because he wants to understand. It's a strange dim sensation on his own, with his records playing. Though they remind him enough of you that he is comforted anyway.
Stuck in a world gone wrong.
It is like he's chasing your shadow, and he never can seem to catch up.
So lift me up, I'll never let you down.
A feeling that blooms like fresh flowers, brings him to ease, reminding him of days where he learned what love was.
Calmed and riled and fragile but so warm and safe. The feeling is chaotic and terrifying but if he could spend his life feeling it, his very very long life. That only you can end, and when you choose to, he hopes it's alongside yours.
So he can never feel it without you, though he feels it's shade when he remembers you.
Searching for the words that I can say.
Instead it licks flames up his skin when you sing in front of him, when your voice fills the air and wraps around him and he understands. He always understands with you.
How it feels when you're with me.
The twins look up at him, pointing at him as they sing non-existent words and his kitten doesn't notice until he pulls up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist, chin on your shoulder, hunching over to look down at what you're doing.
Mostly just so he can feel the rumble of your song through his chest.
The music falters for a second, as your hand reaches up to touch his cheek. He thinks he might purr in response but wouldn't admit it outloud if asked.
"Sugar cookies." You answer his unspoken question. "They're easy, but I'm testing the recipe with less sugar."
"The doctor will be happy." He murmurs against the skin of your neck. Biting absently, in protest as you stop singing for him. Not too harshly though, after all your voice is beautiful when you speak too. Always a song for him. Always lighting that unusual sensation in his chest.
"We've been taste testing!" Luke calls out, and he tilts his head just enough to watch the twins sticking raw dough in their mouths.
"Hey! Don't eat too much you'll make yourself sick!"
"S'fine." Kieran speaks with a full mouth, spraying some dough over his brother, who wipes it off and glares. "You missed a spot." And he flicks him in the forehead.
The two begin to scuffle, leaping off the counters and chasing each other out of the room, the sound of their yelling is head down the hall.
You begin to laugh in his arms, eyes twinkling with affection, and lean back against him with a contented smile.
He wishes the fish were here to paint you. He debates going to grab his phone that he's left on the side, just to take a photo for him later. It would mean releasing you though... he supposes there's more chances to see you like this.
His whole life, he hopes.
"Thank you." You speak, tilting your head to press a kiss to his head, and he turns you quickly, one hand moving to your neck to keep you there while he kisses as much of your skin as he can reach.
Cheeks, lips, forehead, neck. Quick pecks with no heat.
His chest, his heart. He's molten, melting, burning. It would hurt, he thinks, if it didn't feel so delightful. His heart, his soul, his home.
#wonder writes#love and deepspace#sylus#lads sylus#lads x reader#lads x mc#sylus x reader#reader x sylus#lads#love and deepspace sylus#a mandated Christmas break#as a note. Sylus calls the boys 'fishy' 'Prince' and 'doctor' just like he uses kitten and sweetie in the story. Raffy calls him 'crow' bac#the others use his name#if he's being extra serious sy will use their names#but normally a nickname is his way to be affectionate without being overly affectionate#also the twins absolutely pick up sy's singing style. except they don't bother to learn the words to songs. they simply do what my mother#does. which is replace every word they don't know with doo be doo.
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"Wysoki i szczupły, K. był kwintesencją elegancji, od nienagannego ubioru, szytego według najnowszej mody, przez starannie ułożone, piaskowe włosy, po sposób w jaki się trzymał."
#my art#nat tries to write#oc#original character#rough translation from translator xD#Tall and slender K. was the epitome of elegance#from his impeccable fashionable attire to his neatly styled sandy hair to the way he held himself.#I wanted to introduce you to my new character#let's call him Mr K. for now#I spent entirely too much time trying to draw this guy the way he should look like and tbh I'm not sure I'm 100% happy with the result#he kinda looks... so freaking generic like “every pretty dude ever” and he shouldn't idk#though in the story he is pretty#he probably looks too young here too but whatever#maybe I'll change his design later#anyway#if you've seen one of my boys you've probably seen them all#enjoy
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I was inspire by @agentnatesewell and her regularly gracing us with Suri's style. So, here's a moodboard of Zuri’s style (her more casual one):









#this is as close to an aesthetically pleasing outfit moodboard for her as i could get#i wanted to do both casual and formal but they were clashing too much😭#zuri's casual style does fall under the earthy black girl look for sure#a little twc headcanon for her that i may or may not include in the things i wanna write for her:#she does slowly start wearing less jewellery#she still wears them - specifically her earrings and nose cuff#and her waistbeads aren't going anywhere#but she doesn't stack as many anymore (although she already doesn't wear as much as what you'd expect of the earthy black girl look)#mostly because of the noise#because ub's enhanced hearing probably makes every clack or jingle much louder for them#but also because it can give away her location if she's trying to hide from someone or be stealthy#especially if she's doing so while the threat of harm is coming from a supernatural#another cute headcanon that will probably actually be written into something: she gives some of them to farah#whether she's romancing her or not#oc moodboard#oc: zuri jackson#this has been in the drafts for a while i figured i might as well post it now
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Missing Piece
@piperjistic had asked for a forest spirit and while this isn't fully in line with your request, I still hope you'll like it!
Minor warnings ahead for non-graphic violence and a wee bit of body-horror towards the end, though it doesn't happen to the main character. Please be sure to take care of yourself!
*.*.*
For as long as the little girl could remember, it felt like something was missing within her. She could never put a finger on it, but it made her a restless child, picking up and discarding games, struggling with consistently staying interested and some days she just felt very strange.
Like that one stained glass window she had seen when her parents had taken her to a nearby city. All disjointed fragments that still managed to be a picture, but it would never be one entire piece.
The stained glass window at least had been pretty compared to the ugly feeling within her.
"Have you ever felt like something is missing inside you?" she asked her grandma, who came to pick her up many a day while her parents worked.
Things were strange between Gran and her parents, she never talked to them and they never talked to her and she never set foot onto their garden, preferring to wait for the little girl at the gate by the little dirt road.
Gran stilled and when the little girl glanced up at her, her face had gone dark and grim and for the first time in the girl's life, her beloved grandma, a joyful soul who loved her with all her heart, looked just a little bit frightening.
But her hand around the girl's remained gentle and the older woman kept walking at a sedate pace so her short little legs didn't struggle with keeping up.
Everyone always said to the girl that she would grow to be bigger and she couldn't wait for that day to arrive. Gran was silent for so long that the girl thought she was never going to answer.
"You best ask your parents about that," Gran said at last, voice quiet and heavy with something unspoken. Strangely, her voice reminded the girl of a draft horse she had seen, who had been forced to pull a too heavy burden, body straining as it slowly and laboriously set one hoof in front of the other.
"Alright," the girl answered and grinned up at her grandmother, hoping to break up the awful mood her innocent little question had created. "Can we make blueberry cake today?"
Gran smiled and it was like the sun returning after a dark, scary storm, her face brightening and looking as kind and loving as ever. "Of course, little chestnut." She leaned in, voice dipping into a conspiratorial stage whisper, "My wife picked an entire basket just this morning."
The little girl giggled and soon the two of them reached the end of the village, all talk about missing pieces and resulting, scary expressions forgotten. The blueberry cake was delicious and maybe a bit messy since the girl had tried to help a bit too enthusiastically and the cute little apron Gran had made for her was stained with purple-blue juice on one corner.
Gran's wife, Tanya, arrived just as they had taken the first bite of a still warm slice of cake.
"You baked without me?" she gasped in a mock scandalized voice. "Oh, the betrayal, how it stings!" She dramatically fell onto the kitchen table and the little girl laughed when the two older women broke out into a full blown performance just to ensure she kept laughing.
Gran brought her back home just as the sun set and a strong, steady wind blew in from the forest, bringing with it the smell of spring moss and damp, cool earth.
"If you ever meet any magical beings, be wary," Gran said as she stopped in front of the gate that creaked noisily as soon as it was two thirds of the way open.
She looked down at the girl, her face serious. "One day you might and if you do, they will offer you deals and nothing good ever comes from accepting their offers. They will only bring ruin in exchange for empty promises."
As solemnly as the little girl could, she offered her little pinky. "I promise to be careful," she said and a shadow of a smile crossed Gran's face as they hooked their pinkies around each other gently.
Gran leaned down to kiss the top of her head before she left with a glance towards the house and the girl briefly glanced towards the forest. It was an old forest, not quite as ancient as in other places, but surrounded by plenty of stories and mysteries.
The girl had heard rumors about creatures living in the woods, of magic being alive in ways the mages in the big cities could never hope to replicate. She decided to be very careful whenever she went into the woods to pick berries and mushrooms. She had promised, after all.
She entered her parents' house, neatly putting her boots beside her mother's and when she looked up at her parents, the question tumbled forth without much thought, "Why do I feel like I'm missing something?"
Her mother, who was currently carving leather, stilled so thoroughly she might as well have turned to stone. Her father, in the process of cooking, seemed to freeze in place, the stirring of his ladle abruptly falling silent.
"You're still growing," her mother answered at last, voice quiet and her gaze on her work. "It will pass in given time."
The little girl stared at her, startled silent and with increasing heartbreak as the seconds passed, for she had just learned what her mother sounded like when she lied.
*.*.*
The conversation with her parents stayed with the girl as the months and years passed and she never asked again. Gran said nothing either, but every time she picked the girl up, she now glared at the house.
Gran knew, the girl realized, but either couldn't say why she felt wrong or she didn't want to tell her.
Though, knowing her Gran, she probably couldn't for some reason. Gran had been born a rebel and she said she would die one, encouraging all of the little girl's bad habits, as her parents called them, with no remorse.
"This world will chew you up and spit you out, if you let it," Gran told her when she picked her up from school, her hand warm and gentle. "So don't be afraid to bare your teeth, little chestnut. Stand up for what you believe is right, that is the only way to slowly but surely kill off all things vile and dark."
The girl wasn't sure she entirely understood, but she nodded seriously anyway. Gran always told her everything no one else wanted to, blunt and direct without scaring her or hurting her feelings.
Gran felt strong, like a rushing river that wore down even the largest, toughest of boulders. The girl hoped she could be like her one day.
It was her Gran's teachings that got her in and out of trouble over the years and her words guided the girl into understanding when something was wrong. And how important it was to do something when she discovered evil.
As the village turned into a cute little town and more and more people moved in, drawing towards a hopeful future by their fertile lands and abundant forest, the girl had grown into a headstrong young woman.
Not once, in all that time, had she shaken off the feeling like she was lacking something. Like something was missing that should be there.
Her parents could no longer deny that something was wrong and their increasingly guilty and troubled looks said it all. It showed in the woman's life, that something within her was gone. As soon as someone looked into the little house she had moved into, they saw that no project was ever finished, every hobby dropped just after she had gained a modicum of skill in it.
She bounced from job to job, working for whoever hired her, before losing that job again, sometimes by leaving, sometimes by more talented, more passionate people coming along.
It was that restlessness that caused her to drift far enough from the town, the feeling of wrongness seemingly guiding her step, to cross paths with what she first thought was a traveling kind of circus.
There was a man leading the entire caravan of wagons, pale and primly dressed, clearly a mage considering his robes and pompous behavior as he hailed her down.
"We are no circus, young lady," he said when she asked about his business, but his eyes were cold and his smile about as pleasant as holding a palm full of slugs. "I am Master Egam and this is my curious collection. I intend to thoroughly impress the local lords."
He made a sweeping gesture at the wagons and she peered past him, at covered cages and grim looking soldiers.
Her gaze almost immediately fell back to the mage, however, and something ugly writhed within her chest. She couldn't put a finger on what it was, but it felt like sharp, uneven edges pressed against her ribs from within, accentuating the feeling of wrongness.
"Now, which way to the nearest town? It's growing rather late," Master Egam said, his smile wide and winning and yet it caused something cold to drip down her spine. There was a sudden taste of wet iron and rotting earth on her tongue.
It took her a moment to realize why, for she had never experienced anything like it. He had put magic into his words and it filled her mouth with a nasty taste. "This way, about a mile or so."
"Why don't you guide us?" he asked, patting the coach beside him. When she hesitated and saw a flash of curious danger in his eyes, she offered a bland smile.
"Thank you," she said, climbing up to join him, careful to keep some distance between them.
He stared at her for a moment and she resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. "You seem strangely...familiar," he mused after a moment. "Have I met you before? Or family of yours?" When she looked genuinely surprised, he shook his head. "Right, that is very unlikely. Then again, you country bumpkins all look the same to me."
She was desperate to distract him from her, which was thankfully easy enough to accomplish. All it took was a question about his exploits and soon he regaled her with all the horrifying details. Of the creatures he captured, the magic he had soaked up from them, the power he carried at his fingertips.
He was bragging, yes, but she could tell that every word was the truth. That he had chained a vampire into enduring sunlight at his leisure, that he had plucked all the feathers of a harpy to parade her around naked and that he had a griffin eating out of his hand for his amusement.
That he had caught one the most dangerous beings of all, a forest spirit.
She was deeply relieved when her hometown came into view and then she got to see the effects of his magic first hand. His voice seemed to be made of gold, for all he had to do was speak and people immediately rushed to obey, star-struck expressions and delighted, downright smitten smiles appearing on their faces.
She inched away from Master Egam and ended up by one of the wagons instead. Unable to resist, she tugged a corner of the covering up and peered inside.
Green eyes that shimmered like all the shades of plant life in the forest met hers and broken antlers rose from red and gold hair that tumbled down in long, thick waves. The forest spirit, she realized as she stared at him, wide eyed, his face sun-kissed and freckled and even chained down as he was she could see his innate power and grace.
The broken antlers disappeared, swiftly replaced by wolf ears as he now bared vicious fangs at her, wicked claws scraping over the iron lining the bottom of his cage as he growled.
"Careful with that one," Master Egam's voice made her jump and drop the tarp. "He's the most dangerous one I ever caught. A nasty piece of work."
"Why do you catch them?" she found herself asking and as she looked up at him, she already knew the answer before he opened his mouth.
"Because I can," he said, his smile as empty as his eyes were cruel. "Because the wild powers in this world need to know that they can and will be tamed. Now run along and don't tell anyone about this."
His magic was iron-rot on her tongue as she nodded, hastily pasting a smile on her face. It felt like fleeing as she turned and hurried away, her heart racing in her chest and the ugly, vile feeling that had scraped around her ribcage finally lessened.
The wrongness within her was as present as ever, a constant companion of subtle misery that dodged her steps, silent only whenever she found joy in things. Joy that was taken from her by its steady, suffocating grip sooner or later.
As soon as she was home, she began to pace, her mind whirring. She had to do something and whatever magic Master Egam possessed, she was somehow immune against it. She might be the only one who could think clearly around him.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm. Master Egam was dangerous and she was just a magic-less young woman who was all wrong inside. If she wasn't careful, she wouldn't have to worry about what was missing for much longer.
It wasn't hard, in the end, to find out that Master Egam was staying in the mayor's house, that he had tossed him and his family out and now treated the most lavish place as his. The mayor and his wife and two children seemed dazed but they didn't question what was being done to them, they just went to stay with their extended family.
The wagons were kept by the mayor's house, blocking most of the street and guarded by the soldiers, which were armed and armored.
She watched them as the last sunlight faded, thinking. Beyond the window she could see the mage and people came to his home, bringing downright decadent food with loving smiles and hazy eyes, leaving again empty handed.
An idea began to take form. A foolish one, most certainly, but it was likely her best chance. While Master Egam was busy feasting and ordering people around, most likely fancying himself a king among peasants, he would be distracted.
On second thought, he was most likely not traveling to impress lords, but to work his way up to becoming the actual king of these lands. Maybe even an emperor, holding court among captured creatures and his magic charming everyone into blind obedience.
So she joined a group of townsfolk who came with carefully made little cakes and desserts and they barely acknowledged her. The soldiers didn't even looked at them, most likely long used to this song and dance.
It was less easy to go unnoticed by Master Egam, but the man was easily distracted by the new offerings, already a good way through half the food he had been given.
No human should have been able to consume so much without bursting, she thought and she wondered if this was the price of his magic. That he not only could eat far too much, but had to.
"Bring this to the beasties," he said, gesturing at a little bucket of bones and food scraps and the young woman took a decisive step towards it, keeping her head down as she grabbed the bucket, stepping outside without being stopped. Her mouth was filled with the taste of iron-rot.
The soldiers didn't pay her any heed now either. They looked bored and hungry as they watched another plate of food being brought in, but they said nothing. She wondered if they could even if they wanted to. If they were similarly charmed as anyone else.
"I need to feed them," she said politely to the nearest soldier, who moved woodenly to stare at her with a slightly hazy gaze. Ah, that answered her question. "I need the key, please. Master Egam's orders."
He handed the key over, because why wouldn't he? When everyone was always so fully under the mage's control, there was no reason to doubt. She went to the forest spirit's cage first, ignoring his low growl as she pushed the tarp up and began to look for the lock.
He fell silent as soon as she slipped the key into it and opened the door.
"I'll get you out," she whispered and his head tipped to the side, his wolf ears flicking as he considered her. And then, ever so slowly without removing those intense eyes from her, he tipped his head back, baring his collared throat.
She crawled into the cage, making sure to pull the door almost-closed behind her, the tarp falling down and leaving her in murky darkness with only her slightly fast breathing and pounding heart. She slowly inched forward, patting the ground, until clawed fingers carefully closed around her hand, guiding it up.
The collar had no lock and she stilled, her heart leaping in her chest. What was she supposed to do now?
"Bleed," the forest spirit said, voice such a horrible rasp that she was half convinced his throat was full of glass shards. "Willing offer."
She wasn't even thinking when she reached out with her free hand, gripping his fingers and pressing her palm against his claws. She felt him jerk in surprise, but the pain was already blooming, blood running down her hand in a hot line. She reached out to press her hand to his collar, smearing as much of her blood on it as possible and the next second the collar clicked open, crashing to the floor with a rattle of chains.
The forest spirit inhaled sharply and then she felt his hands touch her shoulder, careful and helping her shuffle a bit to the side. Freeing the path to the cage door, she realized
"Free the others, please," he whispered, his voice no longer sounding like he was gargling gravel, but instead charming and lovely-sweet. Her mouth was filled with the faint taste of meadow-flowers and cool spring water.
Then he was out of the cage and she scrambled to follow him, catching the door before it could slam shut.
The guards were lying on the ground and she saw the forest spirit springing past the last one he had taking down, vaulting over a confused man with a tart and heading straight into the house, face snarling in rage.
The next cage held the plucked harpy, who hissed a high-pitched shriek at her, but fell similarly silent when the door to the cage was unlocked.
Her collar too opened with blood and then the harpy was out, her feathers re-growing with a burst of magic that was almost painful with its relief. She took flight immediately, though she clearly struggled as she escaped, as did the griffin the young woman freed.
The vampire slunk out of his cage with a look of wild hunger and gratitude before he was gone between one moment and the next. Just in time for all the windows in the house to shatter outward in a massive wave of pressure, the forest spirit crashing to the ground, wheezing and covered in blood.
The young woman was at his side in no time and as she gripped him and saw him in the light of the street lanterns without the distractions of his eyes, she realized just how thin he was. How his limbs shook as he struggled to his feet.
He stumbled, eyes going wide when she dragged him with her, just in time to round the corner before Master Egam came out of the house with magic whipping around him, a howl of rage filling the night as he found all his cages empty, his guards unconscious – or perhaps dead – on the ground.
"What are you doing," the forest spirit hissed, but he seemed unable to free himself from her grip, which told her everything she needed to know. She wasn't weak by any means, but she got the impression that he should be far stronger than she.
"Saving you," she hissed back. "You're in no condition to fight!"
"Return them to me!" she heard Master Egam's voice boom behind her, so loud and rattling it filled the entire town, making people cower and stumble, their gazes going hazy. "And find me the one who did this!"
Her mouth was filled with the taste of iron-rot to the point where she had to gag, but she managed to push on, reaching the little house she had moved into after she could no longer stand the guilty silence of her parents. The moment they were through the door, the forest spirit collapsed to the floor, breathing hard, sweating and bleeding.
"His magic," he said as he stared up at her with wide, bright green eyes that she knew she could get lost in if she allowed it. "It doesn't work on you. Why?"
"No idea," she murmured back. "Come, we have to hide you."
She had managed to empty out a large storage chest and squeezed him inside despite his protest just in time for her neighbors to come knocking.
"No one is here, I came looking," she said, heart pounding and blood still dripping from her hand as she gestured at the hastily strewn about contents of her chest. "I made sure they weren't hiding."
"Come help search," her neighbors murmured, gazes hazy and she followed them outside, hoping that the spirit stayed where he was, that he wouldn't be found.
She searched with the others until they were all ready to collapse and only then did Master Egam order them to rest with such fury that the cobblestone cracked around him. He had long since roused his guards – most of which were still alive – and had sent them out to the forest to capture those that had run for the woods.
"They can't go far," she heard him mutter to himself as he turned around to head back into the house. "Not with the state I left them all in."
He wasn't wrong.
When the young woman returned home, she found the forest spirit still in the storage chest, asleep and looking utterly exhausted. She dropped into her bed and slept until hunger forced her awake.
The smell of cooking food woke the spirit as well and she stared in astonished surprise as he ate at an alarmingly fast rate. Half her pantry was gone by the time he curled up in front of the hearth and went straight back to sleep. She dropped a thick blanket on him and arranged pillows to hide him from the outside and sat down, thinking.
Master Egam was powerful and she had no idea if she could hide the spirit until he regained his strength, especially if he needed that much food every day. And even then there was no guarantee that he'd be powerful enough to defeat the mage. But, she reasoned, he might be able to escape, which was just as good in her opinion.
She dozed off and woke feeling warm, blinking blearily to realize the blanket was now draped over her, the pillows carefully arranged to leave her in a little nest. Only the floor beneath her was a little hard. Peering around, alarm searing through her, worrying that something had happened, she relaxed as soon as she saw the spirit.
He stood with his back to her, looking at all the half finished projects she had lying around, not having the heart to put them away, even though she already knew she'd never finish them. That this was it and her love for a new hobby she had found was instead curdling into quiet, miserable grief.
"Thank you," he said before turning towards her. He already looked far better than yesterday, less gaunt and shaky on his feet. His injuries were gone as well, leaving only a somewhat tattered, stained shirt and worn, knee-length pants over hale and whole skin behind.
He tipped his head and the way the light of a lit candle reflected in his eyes reminded her of the way animal eyes would look when a lantern swept past them in the dark. "What do you want in return for your help?"
She paused after sitting up, then shrugged. "I don't want anything." Gran had been very firm about deals with magic creatures, that they brought ruin more often than not, her voice harsh and bitter as she had said it. As if there was more to her words than mere warnings.
Besides, the young woman had grown up on stories about daring knights, wise mages and courageous princesses and princes. She had always wanted to be like them, to do good with her own two hands whenever possible. Had secretly dreamed about one day saving someone as she had grown up.
It had been far more scary and harrowing than in her imagination, but she'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.
"You want nothing," the spirit repeated, sounding like he didn't believe her. "Everyone wants something, help is never freely given. Especially not from my kind and especially not when you saved my life. Do not take that kind of thing lightly."
"All I want is for you to be safe," she said. "Don't get hurt again, promise me that."
The forest spirit inhaled sharply, pupils blowing wide until only a small ring of green remained and she felt a warm shiver go through the air. Like something powerful had just exhaled a blessing.
He said nothing for a long moment, before he dipped his head, suddenly looking regal as the wolf ears melted away and antlers appeared that looked far more intact than last night. "Very well."
He joined her by the hearth, dropping down to one knee and offered his hand. "Let me see your wound."
She held out her hand and felt a tingle of magic, could taste soft, gentle meadow flowers and refreshing water as relief took away the lingering pain. Her palm was unmarred, not even a scar remaining.
"You have no idea what you just gave me, do you?" he asked quietly when she looked at him, his gaze so very captivating it looked like the entirety of the forest had gathered in his eyes.
She offered a small, crooked smile. "I've never been around magic," she said, all too aware that he was still holding her hand, skin warm like sunshine. "You can hide here until you've recovered."
He tipped his head to the side. "You would welcome me even now, knowing who is looking for me?"
"You're safe here," she answered. "He can't charm me and you need time to recover. Just make sure no one sees you."
"What do you desire for your help in return?" he asked. "And don't say nothing again."
She thought of the wrongness within her and wondered if magic could fix it. Then she remembered Gran's warnings about deals and ruin and bit back a sigh.
"I'll think about something," she said, though she didn't intend to. Once the spirit was strong enough, he would either fight or leave, but either way she doubted she would ever see him again.
He didn't look happy about that, but accepted her answer graciously enough. Getting to her feet, the young woman waved him with her to the kitchen corner. If he was eating her out of house and home he could help her cook.
When it became clear he was actually the better cook, since she hadn't been able to learn too much before her wrongness had kicked in, she happily left him to it and grabbed her money, sneaking out.
The entire town was walking around in a strange sort of haze, half of them still searching and the other half catering to the mage.
She saw people bring more food to the mayor's house, along with other things. Jewels and prized possessions, feathers the harpy had and griffin had lost and one or two held squeaking bats in their gloved hands, as though hoping they might be the escaped vampire.
No one looked twice at her when she bought as much food as she could at the market and she bit back bitter worry when she saw Gran and Granny Tanya bring blueberry cake to the mage with happy smiles.
Only her parents didn't seem to be out and about. Strange.
She brought the food back home and the forest spirit noticeably relaxed once she was back, thanking her quietly before falling quiet again. The young woman, however, could only stand the silence for so long before she began to ask questions.
Before long she knew that the forest spirit had gotten captured in his sleep, that his home was to the north and that he could sense the power of the nearby forest.
They both fell asleep in front of the hearth and by the second day, the young woman dragged her bedding out into the living room and made a proper place to rest for the two of them.
The forest spirit was in a better mood today and she realized that under all the tense grimness he was rather playful and enjoyed teasing and, most of all, making her laugh. She noticed as the days passed how he regained his strength, the gauntness disappearing faster than it would have for a regular person.
They kept busy in the small house in different ways. She watched him finish some of her craft projects and taught him to dance, he conjured sprigs of flowers for them to 'pretty up the place with' as he said and he let her brush out and braid his hair after long baths, the bath water never cooling until they were well and truly done.
Every night they curled up on the hearth together and it was then, as he looked at her, hair a healthy, shining red and gold and fox ears perked to listen better, that the truth spilled out.
How wrong inside she felt and he frowned at her in what she recognized as worry.
"May I?" he asked, holding out his hand and she put hers into his without a moment's hesitation. His face went soft and gentle in a way that ached somewhere around her tender heart as he held her hand with care.
Then he closed her eyes and she could taste meadow flowers and cold water and his frown deepened.
"I - you must talk to your parents," he said and as soon as the words were out, his head reared back a bit, ears pinning flat to his head as he blinked, looking startled and irritated. "Oh, how nasty."
She stared at him, wide-eyed and for the first time got the feeling that something was very, very wrong in a different way than she had thought.
"I'll go now," she whispered and he nodded, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze before she got to her feet.
Her parents looked worried and tense when they opened the door, relaxing a bit when they saw it was her, only for the tension to snap back into their frames. She realized immediately that they knew why she was here.
That there was a reason why she and they alone weren't slaves to the magic-charm of a mad mage. That they did know why she felt like a piece was missing.
"What's wrong with me?" she asked, sharp and hard in a way she had never spoken with them and they stepped aside to let her in.
They stood around the living room awkwardly until her father broke first, guilty and defensive and shoulders hunched, the silence around them heavy and thick and oppressive like summer heat without a cooling breeze.
"We didn't know," he said, almost pleading as he looked at his daughter. "When we met that...that man on our travels. We didn't know."
Something hot was wrapping around her heart and throat and a bad feeling unfolded in her gut, wriggling to get comfortable like a cat in a beam of sunlight. "Tell me the truth. Now. You owe me that much at least."
"We asked for a good life," her mother whispered, staring down at the ground, arms wrapped around herself and her head bent, shoulders tense. "We asked for nothing unreasonable, because being greedy only curses you. We asked for a good, warm, house, for enough money to buy what we desired until our deaths and to lead healthy, long and safe lives. We wanted the sort of fortune that would ensure we would have everything we desired until the day we died."
The heaviness in the air seemed to press down harder, like a thick blanket over sticky, sweaty skin, trapping heat and impossible to shake, no matter how desperately she wanted to get rid of it.
"What was the price?" the young woman asked, her tongue almost numb in her mouth. Though, she already knew. Could feel it in the marrow of her bones, could feel it in the stained glass shape of her soul, all disjointed and wrong and missing missing missing. Always missing something.
"You were but a babe," her father answered before she could ask again. "We didn't think...when he asked for a piece of you, something that wouldn't hurt you if he took it, we thought, well, if you grew up without it...you wouldn't know what you were missing."
Her heart shouldn't break, she thought, as pain and anger and grief greedily dug into her chest and belly. It shouldn't break when she didn't even feel all that surprised to hear what they were saying.
She thought of her life filled with things she couldn't finish, couldn't dedicate herself to no matter how deeply she loved, like her hands were too restless, desperately trying to find something to fill the void within her. All the friendships she had lost over the years, the disappointed people she had worked with and most of all, how miserable she had been.
She thought about feeling wrong and disjointed and like a stained glass window made by a clumsy apprentice and with the intent to make other people whisper and point and laugh instead of impressing them.
Weird, strange, not-fitting-in. Wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, had sung through her veins for as long as she could remember and she had walked through life feeling like a part of her was gone, but unable to voice it. Unable to even name what was missing.
Thinking that, maybe, this was just her lot in life. That nothing could be done about it and she had tried to do her best with the hand she had been dealt by fate.
And all this time, her parents had just...traded that part of her away. For small comforts. For a future they could have made themselves with their own hands had they cared to try. For a life bartered and paid for by someone else, so they wouldn't have to shoulder the burden.
And then they had lied to her about it, had left her thinking that nothing could be done to make her feel better. That this was normal.
"Who?" she asked numbly and she blinked, realizing she was halfway to the door. When she looked at her parents, hot, angry hatred crawled up her throat like a wave of lava at seeing their wounded, self-pitying faces. "Who did you allow to hurt me?"
"Master Egam," her father whispered, his voice barely audible in the heavy, suffocating silence. "We can't let him see us or he might remember."
She was out the door before he could finish speaking, heart breaking and racing and she wasn't surprised at all, even though she thought she should be. So that was why his magic wasn't working on her – and her parents, if part of their deal was to remain healthy and unharmed at all times. Just what had Egam taken from her to make a deal that protected them no matter what?
She didn't remember the path home, but the moment the door fell closed behind her, she looked at the forest spirit and all the breath rushed back into her lungs. He was waiting with a plate of cookies he had baked that afternoon and his gaze was so gentle and understanding it made the wounded part of her tremble.
He opened his arms, a silent invitation and for a moment there was so much awful anguish in her, she didn't know what to do. Had no idea how to react if someone touched her, if it would drain the pain and anger or make it spill over, ugly and messy and raw. Like a wound that had had years and years and years to grow until it had spread and festered.
Then she moved and let him catch her and cradle her close as she broke down, crying as bitterly and hard as she had never cried before. He held her tightly as she shook apart, her head tucked under his chin and she cried and cried until she felt empty inside. Empty and wrong.
"They gave a piece of me to Egam," she whispered, voice thick and scratchy and he stilled. She tightened her grip on the shirt she had gotten him during one of her trips to the market, where food had started to grow scarce. "In exchange for a good, comfortable life."
He cupped the back of her head and kept holding her, offering no empty platitudes and no 'I'm sorry's, for which she was grateful. She didn't want sorrys. She was...she was too damn fucking furious for that, she realized, now that the pain had momentarily drained away.
"I want it back," she said, biting the words out like they were bones snapping between her teeth. "I want it back and I want this monster gone."
He hugged her tighter and she felt his smile press against her temple, sharp and dangerous and fanged and not the least bit afraid of her rage. Not the least bit judgmental the way others had reacted to her anger over the years.
"Let's shred him," he whispered against her hair, soft lips brushing forehead. "Let's get back what he stole from us."
*.*.*
It hadn't taken too long to prepare. The forest spirit had recovered fully and there wasn't anything in town that could help them against a mage, but in the end, they didn't need much anyway.
They didn't need fancy things or mage slayers. Not when the mage in question would give them the weapons they needed, born out of his own greed and hubris.
Born out of a deal he had made with her parents and Gran really was right, deals only ever brought ruin. Because she and the part Egam had taken from her were about to become his.
The forest spirit gave her hand a squeeze and they exchanged one more look as they got ready behind her house, his eyes fierce and so trusting it briefly stole her breath away.
"When this is over, travel with me," he said, out of nowhere. "I want to show you my home. The brooks and meadows and mountains and lake."
She smiled back, a warmth that had nothing to do with the burning rage spreading through her, smoothing down her edges and settling around her heart like a protective blanket.
"Gladly," she answered quietly, then her smile turned a bit crooked. "What, you aren't going to ask for anything in exchange, leaf boy?"
He laughed softly and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. "You're too precious for deals," he said quietly and she could taste his magic, sweet and cool and it almost brought tears to her eyes, though she couldn't quite say why.
"Let's go," she said instead and he reached up to gather his hair, pulling it aside to allow her to put the pilfered chain from the wagon around his neck. They had scratched out all the symbols on the inside of the iron, destroying the enchantment that would block his magic.
With a bit of glue it would stay shut for now and he caught her hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles until they stopped shaking. They both took a deep breath and stepped onto the street, a glamor settling over his skin, making him look gaunt and injured once more. He limped, casting her one last wink before people noticed them.
The townsfolk paid attention to her for the first time in nearly a month as she went to the mage's house. Word must have traveled ahead, for Master Egam was already awaiting them and the mayor's house was saturated with iron-rot. She could see a few hints here and there of the chaos that must've reigned before he had gotten things cleaned up to welcome them, sitting on a padded chair like it was a throne.
"Bring him to me, girl," he said, beckoning and his smile benevolent and his eyes glittering like cold glass shards. His hunger was deep enough to cut and she bit back a shiver at the disgust that crept beneath her skin the closer she came to him.
"My prized possession," Egam murmured, already ignoring her and his magic grew thicker in the air, almost making her gag. The forest spirit pretended to fight, snarling as he was dragged forward, looking like he was too weak to resist. "And you put him back in his proper attire too, good girl."
He absentmindedly patted her on the head and she made herself smile at him, empty and dazzled, like the other townsfolk, swallowing down bile. The spirit had told her that Egam had stolen a piece of his magic too, forcefully instead of willingly, but it was in his hands all the same.
It was time to get back what belonged to them.
She handed over the chain, his gaze on the forest spirit like he wanted to devour him whole. Like the monsters and villains in her stories growing up, greedy and cruel and insatiable.
Egam moved past her, already discarding her as unimportant. As under his control. As just another 'country bumpkin'. He was the powerful mage after all and, as he had said, he already had one of the most powerful beings under his control.
A powerless girl might as well be dirt under his boots.
That was the exact reason he didn't see her nick her hand on a small knife hidden in her pocket. Why he didn't see her smile at the forest spirit over his shoulder before reaching out.
He didn't look at her and therefore couldn't react in time when she stepped to his side and reached up, pressing her bloody hand over his heart at the same time that the forest spirit lunged forward.
The mage did react, aiming his magic at the bigger, perceived threat, like they had suspected. And just like they had hoped, his magic slid off of the forest spirit harmlessly, for when the young woman had saved his life and he had offered her compensation of the same magnitude, she had asked for him to be safe.
The forest spirit was unhindered, pressing bloody palms to the mage's chest, right over his heart, sharp, sharp teeth bared and he snarled, "I undo the deal."
"I undo the deal," she spoke simultaneously with him, the words the forest spirit had taught her, steady and patient as each one was nothing but pain in her throat. Because she wasn't supposed to say those words, but then again, parents weren't supposed to give away what didn't belong to them either, so she had a right to this.
A right to undo what had been done to her, as long as she could get through the pain that tried to keep her from speaking. Pain that was worse than any wrongness had ever been, any loneliness and pain and grief and self-loathing for not being like all the other people.
For never getting to keep doing the things she loved, forever searching for something she hadn't known she'd have to buy back with blood and pain.
It was the worst pain she had ever endured, but it wasn't stronger than the rage in her veins, the taste of iron-rot on her tongue and the sun-warm hand that took her free, unharmed one, grounding and strong. The look of startled anger on the mage's face swiftly morphing into fear was everything in this moment.
"I undo the deal made made without my voice, without my consent, without my agreement. I undo it as it was made, in pain and blood and betrayal," they spoke in perfect unison, their only chance to both get back what had been taken from them.
Their only chance to catch him so by surprise that he did feel betrayed, that he was as helpless as they had been, asleep and a babe respectively.
The moment the last word left her mouth, a sudden relief gripped her throat, releasing the burning agony that had torn through it and at the same time, she felt something warm and big spread through her chest.
The wrongness disappeared in an instant, the feeling of missing turning into wholeness so filling and great she almost stumbled back, her skin tingling and euphoria singing through her so brightly she had to sob. Because that wasn't just a missing piece, a sliver of soul that he had taken and that was now returned to her.
Magic, he had taken magic from her. It glittered like stars in the dark in her veins, spilled through her mind like bright sunlight on shimmering waves and wrapped around her with a desperation like it had longed to return to her as relentlessly as she had wanted it to return to her.
Egam was screaming as he stumbled back and they let him, watched him trip and spill to the ground as he writhed, clawing at his chest where blood smeared, hot and red and the forest spirit gripped her hand tighter.
His magic was heavy in the air, making her taste rivers and entire fields full of flowers and even from the corner of her eye she could see how much more vibrant he was now, the glamor dropped. Captivating and downright otherworldly, beautiful and mesmerizing.
"What have you done!" Egam shrieked but his words no longer tasted of iron-rot in the air and she blinked, realizing the power of his voice had been stolen from someone else. As she watched him seemingly shrink down, magic leaving him, her breath caught.
Oh. Her magic had been the first he had stolen. Her magic was what had bolstered all of his and now that it was gone, everything he was unraveled until it left behind a pitiful little man, with eyes so mean and cruel he should belong in a story, not in real life.
"I promised you I would be your end," the forest spirit said and his voice was filled with magic. The sort of magic that had previously been used by Egam to charm everyone. "I think your hunger and greed are better suited in a different shape and form. In something that grows, don't you?"
And Egam tried to scramble to his feet and run, but the magic of the forest spirit was so thick in the air it her own magic sing in return, bright and sparking and the fury was still a living, roiling wave of heat within her. She reached out without much thought, letting her magic wrap around the forest spirit's, who threw his head back and laughed.
He laughed as Egam screamed in a pitch no human throat should be capable of. He laughed as the screams cut off and branches broke out of his back, his skin turning to bark and the mage grew and grew and stretched and the young woman found herself pulled out the house as floorboards and walls, doors and furniture and remains of windows were devoured.
She watched as a tree grew and grew and grew until the trunk was as wide as the house had been and it reached high into the sky, the canopy so thick and wide it sheltered the entire town under its boughs.
And her magic was singing and singing and singing and she felt so hale and whole she felt like she was floating. The forest spirit turned towards her, grinning and took her injured hand, pressing a kiss to the cut, smearing blood over his lips as he healed it.
"We're free now," he whispered, eyes so very green and then she was laughing and crying and pulling him forward and he followed her, pressing kisses that tasted like fading copper and brightly like flowers and cold water to her lips.
They were free. Free and whole at last and she felt like she was truly breathing for the first time since she could remember. Deep breaths that seemed to fill her entire body, her magic twining with his as it surrounded them, forest and sky and her tears were wiped away with gentle, gentle hands.
"We are," she whispered, sinking her hands into his hair until she had threaded starlight through it. "Let me introduce you to Gran and Granny Tanya and then I want to see your home."
He laughed and picked her up and twirled her in a circle and she found herself laughing as well, flowers blooming to form a crown on her head.
Where previously a quiet sort of misery had loomed in her future, saturating all coming days, she now couldn't wait to see what the rest of her life looked like.
Bright, she thought as she held his face in her hands, their foreheads gently pressing together. Her future was bight and free and full of love and she was still laughing and crying, happy beyond words. And her magic, finally, finally returned to her, sang and shone and at long last, she felt nothing but right inside.
*.*.*
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#my writing#short story#forest spirit#magic#fairy tale style#a bit dark tho#a wee bit of body horror at the end#and a wee bit of violence#rather non graphic tho#this took forever to write#i have around 11 k discarded words on this little mess#but I loved how it turned out#so I very much hope you'll enjoy reading it too!#also if you wonder#shady how do you come up with names?#i encourage you to spell egam backwards#I'm funny like that (not)#but I admit#his name amused me every time I typed it#alright done with rambling in the tags for now I guess#hope you liked my story!#btw just in case you're new to my stuff#this is LONG#a long short story
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we're so fucking back baby
#wrote and wrote and wrote and every word feels like coming home#Y'ALL 😭 i forgot what it was to write prose completely#when i was writing the first draft of ouro i just. forgot. because i didn't have time to ponder for hours#searching for the right turn of phrase or the perfect simile#BUT NOW I CAN. NOW I CAN#I don't need an epic plot i wand DOMESTICITY AND INTIMACY. and i will have it#by god i will yoink it. yank it crazy fucking style and keep it forever#this is actually so helpful for edits too? oh my god. thank you healers hands for my life
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look i don't know how true this is but i hate hate hate in my bones the way that the recent rise of purity culture has intersected with minimalism and irony poisoning
no sex. no dark themes. no "fetishization." no ornamentation. no "unrealistic" lighting and you can't see a thing. actors don't enunciate for shit. no "purple prose" or "overwriting" (it's just an adverb) or "tumblr prose" or whatever the fuck the newest term will be. sincerity is cringe, ew, why would he say that. no colour grading, because we want the big-screen blockbuster to be "realistic," BUT we will shoot it in a room with fake sunlight and slap the effects onto the scene post-production. moral fiction. moral fanfiction. "omg this is craazyyy was the creator on drugs??!!1????" about any form of creative expression. lists of reasons why this short experimental amateur one-shot is Very Bad Writing, actually. s*x smex spice adult fun time p0rn k!ll grape sewer slide.
everything is boring, nothing is real, i am fucking sick of it
#art#writing#writer stuff#writer life#artist#artist life#art discourse#purity culture#there is this. sterility. that people keep trying to enforce. in a world that is defined by its entropy#that enforcing is violent and it should be recognized as such#i understand people having different styles. even minimalism has its own value#but not every writer is fucking hemingway#irony is everywhere but everyone forgets that you need to know and love a genre in order to do a Good parody of it#scream is fun. shrek is fun. cabin in the woods is fun. terrifier is fun#irony-poisoned marvel schlock that's making fun of itself and its fans for liking superheroes is not
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