#Finally dusted these off from my wip folder!

[blueflipflops]

PLEASE tell us more about these silmarillion x pjo wips 👀

Well since you've asked nicely. Here are some of them:

Warning tho this is a long post. I'll try to keep it short but it probably wont. Read at your own risk :)

Sun Touched and Sweet Music

- one of the most recent ones

After dying slowly on the cold hard floor of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, Finrod expected to awaken in the comforting Halls of Mandos, finally getting rest. He did not expect to wake up in the care of tiny blonde sun-themed children in orange tunics intent on bossing him around til he completely heals.

or, Finrod wakes in the care of Apollo Cabin who are so convinced that he is one of them. Needless to say, Finrod adopts these funky little minstrels/healers/archers/artists/etc so quickly.

Here's an excerpt from the drafts:

Finrod stirred by arguing voices that made him think of his siblings fighting about something petty again only to realize just how young those voices sound.

"-you think he's like us? He has the hair for it, don't you think?"

"Hmm... I don't know. Maybe?"

"Nah. We have like, otherworldly gold hair when we come do in blonde. His is has just, I don't know, different vibe to it."

"Yeah like that makes sense."

"You know, like sunlight trapped in each strand kind of blonde."

"Actually," a new voice chimed in, "did you know that using hair for emergy sutures is one of the most effective alternatives to thread when you don't have some on hand. It's organic and compatible to the body's dna so it's less likely to fight it off--"

"Yep."

"Uh-huh."

"None of you are listening, aren't you?"

"No, but I did catch the fact that you can use hair for emergency sutures so I think I at least get points for that."

Free Falling

Glorfindel fell through PJO-verse when he fell from that cliff in the Battle of Gondolin and made friends with prickly demigods

An excerpt from the drafts:

As the Balrog fell with Glorfindel's hair in hir grasp, a blinding light flashed and suddenly they landed on the forest floor. 

Suddenly, before the Balrog could land a killing strike, an arrow whizzed past and hit it through the eyes. It howled in pain and looked in the direction of its origin. That's when Glorfindel noticed them. Unfamiliar armored people surrounded them, lacking the fear and panic of his people as he sent them away to escape.

And suddenly waves of arrows rained down like the gales of Manwë himself. This only serves to anger it as it rampages towards them. The one that looked to be the leader stood calmly, a hand raised in signal as the balrog sped to them not faltering a single step. Laurefindil opened his mouth to scream a warning but his hoarse throat forbids him. The leader snapped a hand to signal towards the monster just as it was a few steps away from its reach and suddenly a large harpoon-like arrow as thick and as tall as a tree shot through from behind them and impaled the Balrog through the mouth. It faltered and stumbled on its feet when another large harpoon-like arrow shot through its side. And another. And another.

"Well. This sure as fuck ain't what we were expecting to hunt but it seemed like the harpoons were a good idea to bring after all."

"I mean, it did make Cabin 9 happy we're using the weapons they made so--"

Glorfindel (Laurefindil) meets Greek demigods and one whom he can't tell whether she wants to help him or finish him off. In this case, he meets Clarisse La Rue.

Death Diving

a variation of Free Falling except he meets a different demigod.

When Laurefindil fell from the cliff, he thought he was dead. Instead, he woke up to a makeshift bed on the forest floor and a deathly pale face with bruising dark bags under their narrowed eyes hovering above him.

or, Laurefindil meets Nico Di Angelo and goes on a life-changing road trip to get him proper treatment. Laurefindil gets introduced to demigod culture and heals both physically and mentally.

No excerpt to share here folks haha :/

Wild Thing

A crossover pairing fic

Celegorm x Percy

originally going for Fem! Percy but dude Percy can go just as well.

It is truly unfortunate that the Noldor is exactly Percy's type. Clever, ruthless, good at fighting, good with kids, and wild as the raging seas. Well, also... blonde.

Here's an excerpt from the drafts!:

"I wish to ask your permission to court your cousin." 

"Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say? My permission? What is this, the Dark Ages? You know what? Since you asked, no. Defeat me in a duel to the death first."

"What?"

"This could only end in two ways. I kill you, Percy will mourn your death but we, her family will be there to support her and help her move on. Or! You kill me and anger Percy to the point that she will kill you in retaliation. Either way, it's a win for me." She brandished her spear to Celegorm. "Square up, pretty boy."

Dance Til You're Dead

a mix of comedy and horror (tbh a bit crack)

An elven troop somehow got transported to the PJO-verse via fairy ring and walked straight into a demigod rave party who, while not knowing who they were, immediately dragged them into joining them on the dance floor. The music was stranger than anything they had ever heard and it felt as if their bodies moved by themselves with every beat.

or, an elven troop got dragged to a magic rave that subtly encourages you to dance and lose your inhibitions. It slowly turns from confusion to reluctant enjoyment to horror as they feel themselves lose control of their bodies as they dance the night away and the next night and the next and the next--

Being elves, they are more auditory than most creatures and more susceptible to music-based spells. The music at the party is more subtle to demigods who only feel the light relief of not having to think much about their problems, these subtle spells are kind of like recreational drugs to them. the demigods at the party are very much informed of the light spells involved in this party. these demigods CAME for these spells specifically to destress. Unfortunately, to elves, this is slowly turning into a fairytale horror film.

I think I like the irony of pjo-verse being the fae in this story lol

At Best, You Find A Little Remedy

obligatory modern character in middle earth Hozier songfic lol

Finrod x Daughter of Apollo! OC Sirena "Nena" Diwata

Already wrote and posted this on ao3 but only from Finrod's POV so he doesn't know that she's a demigod and semi-immortal too. Here's a link to it!

She used to travel with him for a few years before parting ways. Finrod never noticed that his dear friend did not age as Men do as he suspected she died until many years later when he was visited by a descendant of an old friend invoking an equally old oath to help him steal a silmaril as a courting gift that he meets her again.

Here's the summary of the fic! :

Finrod has travelled across the Arda hundreds of times and met many people over the years, yet no matter how long time passes memories of her will always be the clearest and shines the most. Her memory lost among mortals yet her smile, her voice, her songs live on with him.

here's an excerpt from the supposed continuation of it! :

"Well, this isn't how I expected we meet again, Goldie."

"Nena?" he choked out, not quite believing what he was seeing.

"In the flesh. A little birdy told me you've bitten more than you could chew and what kind of friend would I be if I just left it alone? The world would mourn to lose such a pretty face along with your beautiful voice. Such injustice cannot go on."

"You know her?" Beren whispered but Finrod was too busy staring at the woman that felt more like a ghost than anything.

"N-Nena? It really is you? Truly?"

"Well actually it was a horse that told me but! Semantics."

"Also," She started as she kneeled down to open the lock and with a click, "I thought we established that already?" She quickly made work with their bindings as Finrod's heart raced.

Midsummer Tryst

Maedhros x Daughter of Apollo! OC Solana Trinidad

(can you tell that I have a favorite?)

This was also posted on ao3 already though haven't really updated it since I got into other fandoms. Here's the link to it!

Here's the fic summary:

Tryst — a meeting between two people who are having a romantic relationship, especially a secret one Maitimo has been going to this oak tree for years. When the household gets a bit too loud and his responsibilities as firstborn wear him out, that little place by the oak tree is a breath of fresh air. He quietly claims it as his. One day he meets a strange creature by his oak tree who doesn't speak any of the tongues he knows and despite how they met they quickly became friends. But with Melkor's schemes coming to play, how can such friendship last?

Although THIS is what the original idea looked like:

Maitimo has been going to this oak tree for years. When the household gets a bit too loud and his responsibilities as firstborn wearing him out, that little place by the oak tree is a breath of fresh air. He quietly claims it as his.

Well, until one day he meets a strange creature that looks like an eldar yet quite different. The strange creature speaks a strange tongue and seems to offer friendship or maybe companionship?

Maitimo's days became more interesting as this curious being accompanied him by the oak tree and despite not knowing each other's language they swiftly became friends.

By this oak tree they learn from each other, share stories, sing songs, laugh together, exchange gifts and compare the differences of their realms.

Before they knew it, they built a home in the secret place they had for their own. For a while they are happy. But as Melkor's schemes come out to play and his Father's righteous fury declares war on the Ainur, Maitimo finds himself with the blood of his kin on his hands and the incessant burning of the Oath within him like a noose tightening around his throat.

How can he bear to see his dear old friend now?

...

"You think I should cut my hair?"

"Why would you do that?!"

"Oh, um, 'cause it's getting kinda hot and hard to maintain? (Plus it is a hassle in fights)"

"Hmm... I'll teach you how to tie it away from your face then"

...

They make a bench by the tree and slowly build it up when they need something or they think it's much more convenient to have until they end up building a whole ass house complete with a vegetable garden and a workshop.

Sol sets up a hammock outside so she plays guitar and sings there while Mae writes his poetry or helps with paperwork for Feanor or cooks inside where he can see her by the window in the kitchen.

Sol makes a magic flower tea set that unfurls its 'petals' when poured tea for Nerdanel as a gift. Each piece was handpainted and edged with gold. 

Mae teaches Sol Quenya and Sol teaches Mae English and Spanish, and then Ancient Greek when asked. 

Feanor is perplexed when he finds Mae's notes written in another language. Thought that Mae was making his own language and asked Mae about it cause he was genuinely curious and very proud of his interests. It came out that Mae's secret friend taught him all this. Even more curious, Feanor asks to meet her too. This makes Mae flustered which everyone caught. Feanor raised an eyebrow.

Feanor: Has Nelyo moved out without me noticing? I haven't seen him in days.

Nerdanel: He does go out more recently. Maybe he's visiting Findekáno.

Meanwhile, under the oak tree: 

Nelyo, living a domestic married life with Sol: I feel like I forgot something...

Last but not the least!

Blessings Come in Small Pakige

kidfic but with MORE kids

And yes. It's supposed to be spelled like that

Less of a fic and more of an idea. Not yet written but I do love thinking about it.

Demigod kids OCs are transported into Middle Earth, meets elves, and then parented against their will. Ft. Elves' near-constant baby fever.

The kids age almost as slowly (from weird Ainu magic) and elves immediately go bonkers.

The kids are still hardwired for battle and very hyperactive. The elves do not know how to deal with that. Still don't know who am I going to drop these kids onto. Though I initially thought of Caranthir or Finrod or Dior or Daeron. All I know is that it is set in Arda between the 1st and 2nd Age and is strictly in the Silmarillion area of the fandom.

This includes:

Cultural difference,

Blood thirsty bbys,

Weird insults/ threats

Singing around a fire is a rather strange ritual to elves but the bbys seem to enjoy doing it before they sleep.

Aw fuck misunderstandings

- elves introduced to camp mom! Percy stories from kids

Weird stories from the kids that shook them elves like Jason being raised by wolves and Percy being named the destroyer ( came up when asked about the names having power thing), etc.

- GAMES! word games, board games, outdoor games, music games, and many more!

Feanorions being absolutely delighted with the many new languages these kids know.

Hope you enjoyed these because my brain won't stop making these crossover fics. I do have more but don't wanna make this any longer and also one of them may be an NSFW crackfic...

I also have been working recently on this Silm x HP fic where Maedhros was reincarnated as a red head Harry Potter if you're interested. Here's the link!

[omaano]

Other than the obvious, what is a work in your WIP folder that will contain Rex? Got any fun Rex things to share with me? I'm predictable. LOOK. I love my boy getting attention.

There is one that I desperately want to both show off and also whine a lot about, but I can't because we have missed the promo period for that project and now you all will have to both wait and cheer me and @insertmeaningfulusername on to finish our pieces for the Clone Bang to see it (I'm gonna be so fucking proud when it is finally done!) TT^TT

And I also have a lot of other works that are connected to that big bang project and they are adorable and I want to show those off too but but but... This little overwhelmed Anakin is from one of these connecting projects, and probably that is all that I can rightfully show off right now, but Rex in that one is gonna be so good, I'm telling you!

I've got a LOT of (like, 3? which counts for a lot in my case, honestly) MaulRex plans (I'm running an agenda here) which will make me dust off my old AO3 account because I surely won't be able to post those drawings here even with a mature label lol.

There is cowboy Rex and Cody in the pile I shared in a previous answer; I signed up for a rexobi bingo but I don't have anything tangible for that one yet; but but but! there is also one that is permanently on the backburner in my brain from the "aaaaangst" labelled wip (see below)

Which gets redrawn basically every time I open it up, but the concept is based on Michelangelo's Pieta which is one of my all time favourite sculptures, I love it sooo much, it's so beautiful! but with Fives and Rex (because hey hello that arc had completely destroyed me, I haven't been alright ever since I watched it) with various helmets strewn around on the groun and the looming large forms/statues of armed clone troopers in the background as if they were pillars in a cathedral or something.

I have a very clear idea of what I would like it to be, which is a problem because that does not match my skill level and visual library, so I'll have to adjust to that, but it would be so very cool if I could figure out the adjusted pose (because armor makes things bend and twist differently even on a dead-limp body, and would you believe it clone body types do not match a scrawny Christ and his mother lol). Plus I'm undecided whether I only want Echo included as a broken helmet at their feet, or if I want him in there leaning against Rex's knee and hanging on to Fives' hand for the extra kick of it.

This is my big project I dream about finishing aside from that changeling AU and octo!MaulRex drawing.

Thanks for asking! (and letting me ramble on) <3

List of WIPS for the WIP GAME

[jayteacups]

Limits

Mind still buzzing from the horrors of a disastrous expedition, Levi returns home to you in a daze. You try to offer whatever comfort you can.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader

Tags and warnings: Hurt/comfort, a little bit of angst, Reader is a civilian, Reader and Levi are in an established relationship, no specific events are referenced so it could take place any time in canon

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: This was an old WIP that collected dust in my draft folder, and I finally dusted it off, completed it and am posting it now, to tide you all over!! Hope you enjoy <3 

Your heart races at the sound of a key turning in the lock, blood roaring in your ears. Scrambling up from the sofa, you rush towards the door. 

Is he alright? Is he safe?

The wooden door opens slowly to reveal your lover. Levi’s head bows, facing downwards, and his shoulders slump under the weight of his despair. Blood coats and mattes his usually silky hair, his cape covered in brown smears where you would expect to see green. He takes a few weary steps inside. 

“You’re home,” you whisper, voice wavering in your throat. He had made it back in one piece, as far as you can tell. Physically, at least.

Levi stays silent, one hand reaching behind him to close the door. For one moment—or eternity, you can’t tell—his feet remain rooted to the floor and his gaze never lifts from the ground, hair still shielding his face, his eyes, from you. 

In the silence, you hear your heart shatter. How many times had life done nothing but take from him?

The thing about Levi is that he gives and gives without a second thought. Even when there’s nothing left inside of him to give. He has suffered and continues to suffer through things that you couldn’t possibly fathom, taken loss after loss. He has every right to resent the world, to resent mankind, for what he had endured. Compassion should be a foreign concept to him, but it isn’t. To somehow still be able to fight for a better future, even one that might not include him, after everything… 

You aren’t oblivious to the whispers, the hesitant glances, the doubts that Levi was much more than a machine. The newspapers dub him Humanity’s Strongest, and yet praise him for an inhumane amount of prowess, refusing to see the actual humanity in him. 

The truth is, Levi is the most human that any human could possibly be. 

And every human has their limits. 

“Levi,” you try again, “I’m glad you’re home, sweetheart, will you let me take care of you?” You carefully reach out for his slack hand, your fingers grazing against his. 

An almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, before his hands move to engulf yours, clasping them tightly. 

He still refuses to look up at you.

“Come here, love,” you find yourself whispering, pulling the tired man forward whilst you step closer towards him. Levi stumbles, falling into place in your arms. You feel your stomach swoop inside of you with concern—he’s shaking harder than you’ve ever seen before. Squeezing one arm around him tight, feeling his hands grip onto your thin shirt, you guide his weary head to rest in the crook of your neck with your other hand.

You know it’s best not to say anything—not yet, anyway. You’re no fighter, what do you know of the horrors that Levi and his comrades face outside the Walls? All you can do, all the comfort you could ever hope to provide, is to hold him tight.

And so you do. You embrace him until the trembling subsides, whispering words of comfort. You’re not entirely sure they aren’t falling on deaf ears, but nonetheless, you close your eyes and speak. 

You’re okay. I got you now, my love. You’re safe with me, and I’m not going anywhere. We aren’t going anywhere. 

“Let’s run you a bath and then you can sleep. Yeah?” You doubt he has much of an appetite right now. 

Levi nods against your neck, before unfurling himself away from you, letting you have a look at his face for the first time since he’d arrived home. 

His beautiful steel eyes, usually clear and sharp, are now glazed over and red-rimmed, decorated with looming, dark shadows underneath. Though he is paler than the average fair-skinned person within the Walls, it’s as if all the colour had drained from his cheeks entirely, giving him an almost ghostly, haunting aura. It’s as if all the light, all the fight, has been completely drained from him. 

You put what you hope looks like a comforting smile on your face. “C’mon,” you murmur. “Come with me.” 

He sighs, his hand once again slipping perfectly in place, tessellating with yours. 

———

He remains silent as you carefully peel off his uniform from his skin. Not a single piece of clothing remains free of bloodstains. 

After bundling all of his soiled clothes into the laundry basket and turning back around, you barely manage to stifle your gasp at the sight of the numerous bruises littering his back and his chest. Straining your mind to remember where you last put that tin of soothing salve you’d bought a while ago, you reach for the bath salts displayed neatly on the counter.

You perch on the edge with him, one hand resting lightly on his bicep, the other rubbing soothing circles into his back as gently as you could, avoiding the large patches of purple painting his skin. He stares off into space, lifeless eyes still glazed over. 

Once the bath fills and the salts dissolve, you turn the tap off. “It’s ready, my love, you can get in now.” Leaning forward, you drop a gentle kiss on his forehead. 

The only sign that Levi has heard you and processed what you said is a glance in your direction and a slow blink, before he eases himself into the bath. It surprises you that he doesn’t wince even once despite the bruises and the occasional scratches, but you quickly realise he’s still feeling numb.

Nobody should have to force themselves to be this strong. Nobody should have to, but it’s the only thing Levi knows how to do, and it breaks your heart. 

Resolve strengthening, you roll your sleeves up and grab from the cupboard a sponge and the small set of washes and lotions. Water sloshes around in the bath. A wet hand reaches out before you can open the bottle of shampoo, slender fingers enclosing around your wrist. Levi’s grip lacks its usual assured firmness. Instead, it feels lax, as if he’s uncertain of whether or not he’s in any place to ask you to stay. Your eyes flicker upwards to meet his, which are uncharacteristically glassy, pleading with you. His lips part to frame the question, but his breath catches in the back of his throat - he’s still too out of it to even speak. 

Clearly interpreting your silence and his inability to even put it into words as a sign that he should not ask, his fingers relax, hand retreating and curling up on his lap instead as he stares despondently at the wall past you. 

Oh, sweetheart, you think to yourself in worry. You can ask anything of me. You are deserving of that at least, no?

“No, it’s more than okay, darling,” you say quickly. “I’ll join you.” Your fingers tilt his chin upwards. You leave a gentle, slow kiss on his lips that isn’t quite reciprocated with Levi’s usual care, but you’re just happy that he’s beginning to gain his responsiveness back. It always scares you whenever he shuts down like this. 

After quickly stripping down your clothes, you toss them into the laundry basket and climb into the tub behind him, with your legs on either side of them. The warmth of the water seeps through your bones and you sigh, slipping an arm around Levi’s middle and tugging him backwards to rest against your chest. He tenses up for a moment. 

“Hey, I know this is easier said than done, but please try to relax. You can lean on me whenever you need or want it.” Your hand rubs at his arm, and Levi finally listens to the instinct to relax, and melts against you, settling his full weight on top of yours, head supported by your shoulder. 

Taking time to help him wash, you let your fingers drag lightly over his scalp and bury themselves in his hair, just the way you know he likes it. His hands slowly wipe away the shampoo lather from his forehead before it drips into his eyes, and you note that they are beginning to shake again. Something in you churns uncomfortably at seeing the bathwater slowly turn pink from the half-dried blood being washed off. It must’ve clicked in Levi’s mind, too, because he sits up and turns, the water sloshing over the edges of the bathtub with the movement, and crushes you tightly to his body, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. His chest heaves, his breath stutters against your skin, and the dam breaks.

Rubbing his back and whispering words of comfort do nothing to quell the quiet, defeated sobs escaping him, but it is all you know how to do, and so you simply let him fall apart in your arms. 

The water is cold when Levi’s tears stop falling.

© jayteacups 2022 | do not repost, modify or claim as your own work.

Masterlist

[nandalikesstuff]

Going Back to Those Times

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Characters: Oz Vessalius, Gilbert Nightray

Summary: Many have said that the child we once were is never lost, it’s only waiting inside us for a chance to go out and play again. Gil and Oz have just proven that theory true.

A/N: Like I've said, one of my goals for 2024 is to finally finish all the wips that have been collecting dust on my folder for ages. This fic is a part of this project and a specially difficult one at that, because:

1) Believe it or not, this fic was supposed to be a fill for a prompt on the kink meme in LiveJournal (computer says I started it in 2011, which makes sense, but somehow feels wrong, where did time go?); and

2) Do you think past!me wrote down what the prompt was or saved a link to it anywhere? She did not! :D So I had to put together a plot and ending for this fic from the thousand or so words I had already written for it and my very vague memories of where I was intending to go with this.

Bright side is: I did it! Not exactly sure how close it is to the prompt it was supposed to fill anymore, so uh, if you had a prompt on the kink meme that involved Gil and Oz playing as kids again in some way and you happen to see this, I hope you like it! And I hope everyone else likes it, too!

If you prefer, also read it on AO3!

~~**~~

When Gilbert Nightray got out of his bed that day, he expected and resigned himself, as always, to face all kinds of strange, scary, dangerous, and very likely to cause serious body damage situations. And all that setting aside the part where he would eventually have to actually go out of the Rainsworth mansion to hunt the human-eating monsters that were known as “chains”.

He did not expect, however, that an apparently harmless excursion to the market would lead to him finding himself thrown to the ground and then smashed by five of what should be the most annoying, tireless, relentless and devious kids he had ever seen.

Aside from his master Oz, that is.

Gilbert felt all the air being forcefully pushed out of his body and struggled to get it back, but, with the combined weight of the children pressing directly onto his ribs and lungs, this task seemed almost impossible. He gasped, desperate for air, and tried to scream and make the kids get off of him, but only managed to get out a strangled whisper.

One of the kids – he couldn’t possibly tell which one – started to scream and roar in victory, giving the cue for the others to follow him and start a deafening noise.

An alert started to sound off in his head (“You need air NOW!”) so he did the next thing that had come to his mind and used his arms to lift himself from the ground a little. The kids didn’t even notice, but it was enough to stop his chest from being crushed and to get the air back into his body. His breath was, of course, a bit erratic, but, as he was not facing imminent death anymore, he could focus on other important things such as: how he would get out from under those children?

He tried to search for Oz and ask for help, but his view was currently limited and the blond wasn’t anywhere in his line of sight. Feeling completely hopeless, he dropped his head to the ground, groaning and trying to ignore the kids’ cheering, and went back to the events that had brought him to this ridiculous situation.

~~**~~

Gilbert had woken that morning to a mansion immerged in complete silence, what was, considering the people that lived there, rather odd and suspicious. Plus, having lived most part of his childhood with Oz Vessalius, he knew that silence was never a good thing.

While he washed himself and changed, his mind rushed through the possibilities of evil plots that could be being put into action at that exact moment. Horrible images started rushing through his mind: Of the mansion being blown up or he being thrown in a room full of cats or… Who even knew!? (And no, he wasn’t paranoid, thank you very much. Some of those things had actually happened before, especially the ones that involved cats).

Afraid of what he would face once he started wandering the corridors, the raven considered, for a moment, staying in his room and pretending it had nothing to do with him, but the fear of what could actually happen if he didn’t keep an eye on Oz and Break was enough to make him storm out the door, looking for them.

The obvious place to look at that time would be the dining room, as it was breakfast time, and, surely, as soon as he approached the door he heard Oz’s voice coming from behind it, but the one answering the blond was not who Gilbert had expected.

He opened the door to find Oz chatting animatedly with Reim (Well, the younger boy was chatting animatedly, the other was just listening, but seemed to be having a good time nonetheless). There was no one else there, which was odd. Where were Sharon, Break and that stupid rabbit? His master looked up at him when he entered the room and gave him a smile:

“Hey there sleepy-head. It was about time you woke up, Gil!”

“Good morning, Mr. Nightray.” Came Reim’s greeting soon after.

Deciding to ignore Oz’s comment, he took his place at the table, sitting right in front of them.

“Morning…” He looked over at Reim, trying not to look too curious, but he must have failed it, because the other soon added:

“I came to deliver some documents that master Barma wanted Lady Cheryl to analyse, and then I ran into Oz, who was kind enough to invite me for breakfast.”

One mystery solved. There was still the other one.

“I see… And where are the others? I mean, that stupid rabbit is probably still asleep, but where are Break and Sharon?”

It was Oz’s turn to ignore part of Gilbert’s comment. He had known since long that all the animosity between Gil and Alice was just for show, so he didn’t even pay any mind to it anymore.

“Sharon wanted to give Alice another one of those ‘lady lessons’ and took her to the city. Break went with them, of course, and he also said we could have the day off.”

At this, the raven-haired man sighed visibly in relief. So there wasn’t any evil plan being plotted, after all, thankfully (Okay, so he was just a little paranoid. No one could blame him for it after all he had been put through). More relaxed, he filled himself a cup of coffee. The rest of the morning went down smoothly.

Things continued calm until the middle of the afternoon. The others still hadn’t come back, so Gil and Oz were killing time at the library. The blond was sitting on the floor, back against one of the shelves while reading one of his adored Holy Knight books, and Gilbert was on the nearest table, filling up some paperwork, when the boy lifted his head and said the phrase that was bound to be the source of all of Gilbert’s nightmares:

“You know, Gil… I could really use some cookies right now…”

Gilbert didn’t even look up. The other wasn’t seriously asking him to drop everything to go bake cookies, was he? Didn’t he remember what had happened the last time he tried?

“So go ask one of the maids to bring you some.”

“But I want the ones that you make!” Oz almost but whined. “You were never able to finish them last time and I have been craving your cookies since then!” (Damn, so he did remember).

Receiving no answer, Oz huffed, immediately changing his tone of voice.

“Come on now, Gil; don’t make me turn this into an order, because you know I will.”

Yes, Gilbert didn’t have a doubt he would…

He really didn’t feel like making cookies at the time, but if that was going to make Oz happy, then he didn’t really mind.

The raven sighed, although it was only for show, and pushed his chair away from the table.

“Fine, I will make your cookies. I’ll be back in an hour or so, ok?”

“Oh, really?! Thank you, Gil!”

Gilbert rolled his eyes as he left the room. Oz had the sweetest of smiles on his face, as if he hadn’t just blackmailed him into doing just so, the manipulative brat…

Oz chuckled as he heard the library door closing. They were nice, these times when they played their little games, Gil pretending he didn’t like to obey Oz’s orders and the boy pretending that he didn’t give a damn. It was something they had been doing since they were kids, the only difference being that there used to be a lot more whining and crying from the (now) older’s part. But it was ok, most of the times. If the game was always the same, it would eventually become boring, but not with Gil. With Gil it just felt nostalgic, safe, welcomed... Just like home. Even if that “home” was always surrounded by deep darkness.

Caught in his own thoughts for a while, the book was lowered to his lap, almost forgotten. The sound of the opening door pulled him back to Earth with a startle, but he quickly composed himself and was back to his book-focused appearance by the time Gilbert appeared on the door frame.

“Wow, back already? You must be the quickest cookie-baker in the whole world!”

Gilbert huffed, not finding the slightest fun on the lame joke and thereby deciding to ignore it.

“The cooker said they have run out of vanilla extract because of the amount of deserts prepared for last night’s dinner and today’s lunch so I offered to go to town and buy some, since we are on a day off anyway. Just thought I should let you know.”

“Whaaat? You are not going to invite me to go with you? Are you abandoning me, Gil?”

Gilbert had only been teasing, and the comment was said on a tone not meant to be taken seriously, but shocked that his master would have that impression about him, Gilbert quickly sputtered a desperate excuse.

“What?! No! A-As if you needed any kind of invitation, idiot. And weren’t you the one that said that was going to stay glued to that book the whole day, anyway? I thought you would prefer staying here.”

“Huh? All alone? No way! I prefer going to town with Gil, it’ll be way more fun!”

Oz rushed to the exit, grabbing his sleeve, and started to pull him through the corridor, but that excited façade didn’t fool Gilbert. He had learned how to see through these expansive actions; that forced joy. He could count on his fingers the times Oz had really had fun after returning from the Abyss, and having to watch his desperate attempts of bringing back his old self, on continuing to seem untouched by the events surrounding them, clutched at his heart with an iron claw and ripped it to pieces.

No, even this was a false nostalgia, somewhat. There had been a lot of darkness surrounding Oz, even back then, that was why Gilbert was always doing – had always done – everything his master wanted, everything he thought might make him happy. But before his father’s ritual, there had at least been real innocence, real happiness in Oz and in plenty of his moments, specially when he was with his uncle Oscar and Ada. Now even those moments seemed tinged with a hidden angst.

If he didn’t know Oz as well as he did, though, it would be impossible to see. As he walked to and around town towards the market, the other boy chatted and ran everywhere, pointing at birds and interesting objects on the shop windows, and even making Gilbert chase him once or twice. Gilbert couldn’t help but wonder about the picture they painted, him all black and moody and Oz all golden and smiles, everyone that saw them would think they didn’t have a care in the world, though deep down he thought Oz was always ever so energetic because, if he stopped, then his thoughts would catch up to him.

“Hey, Gil, let’s take a shortcut through here!”

The call cut him from his thoughts, and he looked around to find Oz waving at him and pointing at the entrance to the park.

“That is not a shortcut. It will take us at least twice as long to get to the market through there.”

“No, no, it’s a shortcut. Trust me, Gil.”

Well, what was he supposed to do? Say he didn’t trust Oz? He begrudgingly followed the other into the park and off the path through the trees until they came to a clearing in the middle of the woods. Well at least it seemed like they were walking in the general direction of the market and should-

Something hit him on the back of the head, and he acted in a fraction of second, grabbing Oz by the arm and pulling him behind him as he turned around and pointed his gun in the direction of the enemy.

Unfazed, an angry looking young boy threw his ball in the direction of Gilbert’s face now, making him duck fast not to get hit.

“Hey, old man! Get out of the field, you are interrupting our game!” The boy yelled at him, and Gilbert quickly hid his gun away before yelling back.

“Don’t shoot balls at people, you know how dangerous that is?!”

“I wouldn’t have to shoot my ball at you if you didn’t walk in the middle of our game in the first place!”

Some other voices yelled in agreement behind him, and Gilbert looked around to see there were three or four more kids around, and no indication this was a playing field of any kind.

“Well, you shouldn’t be playing in the middle of nowhere like this. Where are your parents?!”

“None of your business!” The boy had the audacity to blow a raspberry at him, but before Gilbert could argue further, Oz got free from his hold and walked around him.

“A game? What game are you playing?”

“It’s a game I invented.” The boy said, sounding all cocky. “It’s called ‘monster’. The monster needs to try to shoot the ball at the others and if he hits someone, that person will be the new monster.”

“Woow, sounds super fun, can I play?”

“Sure!”

“Oz, we don’t have time to play, we need to go to the market and back to the mansion.”

“Aww, but Gil!”

The boy grabbed Oz’s hand and started pulling him away. “Don’t listen to that ugly nanny of yours, come play with us!”

The other kids cheered as Gilbert simmered in rage at being called an ugly nanny. He grabbed Oz by the back of his shirt. “No, we don’t have time to spend with these brats. Let’s go, Oz, or don't you want your cookies?”

Oz whined a little more, but soon his pout turned into the devious smirk Gilbert knew so well. He had a feeling he would not like whatever came next.

“Hey, I just thought of a new cool game we can play!” Oz said, and the other kids looked at him with confused faces. He pointed straight at Gilbert, and Gilbert immediately knew he absolutely would not like whatever came next.

“That guy is a super ugly, super mean monster, and we are the knights that are going to bring him down! Whomever can hit him with the ball, wins!”

“Oz, wait a-“ Gilbert started protesting, but had to jump to the side to avoid a ball one of the other kids had already thrown at him.

“Let’s get the monster!” She yelled and all the other kids, including Oz, cheered.

Oh, fuck.

Gilbert spent the next minutes running, dodging and jumping as the kids ran around him shooting and kicking the ball in his direction, trying to “kill the monster” or whatever it was. Oz gleefully joined in the torture and his attacks were the hardest to dodge since he knew Gilbert’s movements so well. It wasn’t particularly tiring or difficult after being trained most of his life by Break to fight Chains, but it was getting pretty annoying.

An idea suddenly stroke Gilbert and he wondered how he hadn't thought of it before. The next time one of the kids threw the ball at him, he grabbed it and held it high above his head.

“Game over, I win.”

“Aw man, that’s not fair!” One of the kids complained.

“That wasn’t part of the game!” Another joined.

The kid that had had an issue with him from the start looked angry for a moment and then gave a devious smirk that rivalled Oz’s and yelled:

“The monster is cheating! Let’s get him, guys!”

There was another round of yelling and before Gilbert could understand what he meant by that or react, one of the kids jumped at him from behind. He wasn’t expecting it so he lost his balance and stumbled, but he would have been able to recover, if the other kids didn’t follow soon after.

He fell to the floor with a scream, a couple of kids landing on his back and the others jumping after them in a pile over his body that left him unable to breathe. One of the kids – he couldn’t possibly tell which one – started to scream and roar, giving the cue for the others to follow him and start a deafening noise.

An alert started to sound off in his head (“You need air NOW!”) so he did the next thing that had come to his mind and used his arms to lift himself from the ground a little. The kids didn’t even notice, but it was enough to stop his chest from being crushed and to get the air back into his body. His breath was, of course, a bit erratic, but, as he was not facing imminent death anymore, he could focus on other important things such as: how he would get out from under those children.

He tried to search for Oz and ask for help, but his view was currently limited, and the blond wasn’t anywhere in his line of sight. Feeling completely hopeless, he dropped his head to the ground, groaning and trying to ignore the kids’ cheering as he tried to think, and that’s when he heard it.

Laughter. Pure and joyous laughter that he hadn’t heard in a long time.

His head jerked in the direction of the sound, and he could slightly make out Oz sitting on the floor and laughing like this was the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life.

He had missed that sound so much. Oz’s real laughter, without any sign of being forced or hollow, like the one he had had when they were both kids. Before Abyss, before his father, before chains or Baskervilles; it elated him, it was his most favourite and the best sound in the world. It made Gilbert so happy himself, he almost started crying from the relief of it.

He would do anything to keep that sound alive.

With renewed strength, he pushed himself up, making the kids fall on their own pile behind him, then he turned around, glaring down at them, and said:

“Now you have made the monster angry. I am going to eat all of you!”

He fake-growled and the kids screamed and scattered as he chased them randomly around without any intention of getting any of them. After a few seconds of this, he turned and looked at Oz. The other boy was looking at him with a surprised look on his face, half thinking it fun and half disbelieving, so Gilbert turned to him with hands half raised in claws, and fake-growled again.

“And you! You turned against me! I’m going to eat you first!”

He ran towards Oz and was pleased to see him reacting just like the other kids: with a fake scream and starting to dash around. He ran after him for a while, and almost exploded from happiness when he heard Oz laughing again, before he took a sharp turn towards one of the other kids that were nearby and continued chasing them randomly around the clearing among the trees.

Every once in a while, the game changed: soon the kids organised themselves into a monster hunting squad, and started chasing him again, then the ball was rediscovered near a tree and they went back to something more similar to what the boy had explained at first, with the “monster” trying to catch the others by hitting them with the ball, which somehow turned into a soccer match, and a game of hide and seek, and another round of tag.

Every time Oz laughed or smiled or cheered together with the other kids, it made Gilbert laugh, too, and soon he had forgotten that his own laughter had also died over ten years ago or that he was a hunter and a killer, the Raven from the Nightrays, and not simply a boy playing together in the park with his best friend.

This is what they were supposed to be, they were supposed to have had more of this, still years of this to come. They had been robbed from themselves and each other, their lives turned upside down, but this was their defiance: they could still laugh, and smile and play, and every time they did, they were taking back a little piece of what had been stolen from them, they were back to being just boys and best friends playing in the park, with freedom and their whole lives ahead of them.

They would never be able to go back to those times, but they could pretend and heal for a while, at least.

~~**~~

The sun was already setting when Gilbert and Oz finally sat down on the grass propped against each other, exhausted and trying to catch their breaths. The other kids said goodbye and waved as each disappeared back to their own homes, inviting them to come back and play again tomorrow. Even the boy that had initially disliked him said they could come back anytime; it made Gilbert smile.

“I’m completely beat, I hadn’t run so much in ages.” Oz remarked, and Gilbert had to agree.

“How was this somehow more exhausting than taking down a Chain? What do kids nowadays eat?”

His dramatic statement made Oz laugh again, and Gilbert beamed. He would never get enough of that sound.

“What made you change your mind, Gil?” The other suddenly asked. “I never thought you’d start a game yourself, but you were almost having more fun than me.”

The raven didn’t know what to say for a moment. He didn’t want to bring attention to Oz’s present happiness – and general unhappiness, by consequence -, in fear it would make it disappear, so he just shrugged. “I just wanted to teach those kids a lesson for piling on top of me, and I guess I got carried away.”

“I see… You were really cool when you called yourself the monster like that, I couldn’t believe it!”

The comment made Gilbert blush a bit. “Don’t make fun of me, I was just going along with what you said.”

“I’m not! You were really cool, I mean it.”

They stayed silent for a little while longer, until Oz said, almost inaudible:

“Thank you, Gil.”

It took Gilbert by surprise, but then he smiled, and put his hat on Oz’s head in place of an answer.

“Come on. Let’s go find a cab and go back to the mansion, I can’t walk the whole way back again.”

They found their way back to the main entrance of the park and Gilbert hailed a carriage for them to climb into. Oz fell asleep almost instantly, and Gilbert contented himself with watching over him on their way back.

It wasn’t until they were back at the mansion that he realised they had forgotten all about the vanilla extract and the cookies, but it was okay. They had gotten something way more precious instead.

[dear-mrs-otome]

Inspired by you Nonny, here's some of a spicy Jean WIP that's been languishing in my folder forever...maybe I'll dust it off finally.

Jean/AFAB reader, nsfw

~~~~~~

You climbed onto his lap and he froze, eyeing you warily, thoughts spinning behind his dark gaze. Assessing and reassessing the new lines you’d drawn, marking the shift in the battlefield.

“I like your voice.” You leaned in to breathe the words across his ear, and felt him tense beneath you. “I like it very much. It starts here...” Twining your fingers between his, you tugged his hand to touch your ear. “And goes here.” Down now, along the column of your throat, the dichotomy of your soft hand and his rough one a delight. To his credit, he only let slip the barest of tremors as you trailed your joined fingers between the valley of your breasts, lingering long enough for him to count how your heartbeat crashed just beneath it.

And down, ever further, past the quivering plane of your stomach to broach the edge of your skirt. Sliding his touch along your thigh as you bit your lip against the mewl that threatened - until finally his hand brushed the gusset of your undergarments. “And ends here, like lightning grounding.”

Wicked and triumphant you escorted his fingers beneath the drenched fabric so he could feel for himself just how it affected you, and as his fingertips snagged on your wet entrance the breath left him on a growl.

“I love it when you do that, too,” you pointed out, unrepentant. Unashamed of your desire for this quiet, frank man. Rolling your hips towards him encouragingly, to see if you could tug another snarl from him.

“Someone might come.” He said it in the choppy tone of a man flailing for a lifeline, raw and desperate, his wild eye darting towards the door as if expecting it to crash open at any moment.

Framing his face in your hands you pulled his gaze back to yours, holding his stare intently as you pushed closer, purposefully wriggling his fingers another fascinating fraction further inside of you. Moaning as the mound of his thumb snugged up against your clit. “They won’t.”

Victorious, you watched the slow bob of his throat as he swallowed thickly. “I can’t promise to be gentle. Or quiet.”

“Oh, love...” Leaning in, you feathered your lips across his in a fleeting kiss. A promise of your own, as your mouth curved in a devil’s smile. “I hope you aren’t.”

“Temptress.” But there was no resentment in the hoarse accusation, and none to be found in the hand that cupped your backside either, urging you even tighter against his body. Only a sense of urgency now, in the way his fingers still buried deep inside of you took up a rhythm, flexing and curling in tandem with the faint buck of his hips beneath yours.

[itwoodbeprefect]

WIP Game! ✨

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

-

i was tagged by @luredin (thank you!) and i’ll tag @redgoldblue, @spaceradars, @logicgunn, and you, the person reading this, to either do this tag game, not do it, or do it six months from now (or anywhere between now and then) - whichever works for you.

-

and then, hm. the thing about how i write fic is that technically speaking it’s, uh, deeply inefficient, in the sense that i’ll start a hundred things (more literally than you might think) and bounce around between them until something gets close enough to being finished that it just needs a final little push (which only happens for about half the things i start, but that’s okay, because the other half is also an invaluable part of the process).

point being, the list of WIPs is long. curated version (with any projects i’d consider abondoned/barely started filtered out) below the cut. send me a title or fandom + number!

-

Starsky & Hutch (practically all of this is Starsky/Hutch)

Our girlfriend who lives in Canada

All your ducks in a row

Starsky gets politically involved

Starsky decides Hutch’s mustache is gay

On blond blintzes, and how to sweeten them: easy 5-step recipe!

Starsky interrupts Hutch’s date with a guy

Gold dust woman // Take your silver spoon (Dig your grave)

Hutch has a new neighbor

Peter Whitelaw meets Starsky for dinner

Someone overhears them

Starsky’s brother visits

Hutch gets himself a beard

Not even a good kisser (Death in a different place tag)

Everything goes wrong / They were jinxed

Hutch kisses Starsky

Hutch would pick Paul Newman

Starsky’s painted nails

Love you to love me

Sleep together sometimes

Fire metaphors - And a freight train running through the middle of my head

Starsky dates a married woman

Here be dragons (Cowboy on the white horse)

Hutch is the utterly oblivious one, Starsky is confused

Greg is a four letter word

Cuddling only happens when they’re dying

Huggy brings a housewarming gift

Arranged Marriage AU

The Brotherhood of the Traveling Pet Rock

Hutch vs. glasses

Twilight

Personalized embroidered towels

-

Hawaii Five-0 (everything here is Steve/Danny)

It might sound cheesy

The opposite of purple prose (isn’t this)

Counting the days (and the hours, minutes, seconds, and maybe a microsecond or two)

The fic where Steve thinks Danny is dating the botanist neighbor

Arguments over spice racks

Five people who don’t get why Danny couldn’t just tell Steve that he’s in love with him (and one person who does)

Steve sees rainbows everywhere

Danny loses track of the line between friendship and romance

Five things Nahele learned from Steve (plus one)

They try to find a term for each other

Ace soulmate AU

The bunk beds fic

Steve and Danny buy a house together

Five times Steve is not going to be emotional about moving

They have Lou and Renee over for dinner!!!

The hyphenation of life

I love you sounds different if you’re saying it to a guy you’re sleeping with

I spy, with my little bi

Multimedia fic?

The soap opera fix

Deus ex machina (the one with dolphin God)

Danny has someone else

Steve’s becomes… themed

They watch Top Gun

Danny Williams and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Neighborhood Barbecue

Danny undercover needs to ward off advances

Danny tries to get Steve’s phone because he sent Stella a gay crisis text

Superheroes at a museum

A flip-flop state of mind (the half-posted multichapter fic already up on ao3)

-

Stargate Atlantis (John/Rodney except for that last one, where it’s &)

The Brightest Light in Atlantis

Universe where X

Some kind of DADT repeal fic

John tells Rodney he likes him and they try to figure it out together

Aro Ace John

-

due South (RayK/Fraser, and for #2 also RayV/Stella)

Oral hygiene fic

Fraser and both Rays and Stella have dinner together

The Guy Thing

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Other

Homophobia? (Sports Night, Dan/Casey)

Leapfrog (911, Buck/Eddie)

Jolene/Diane (from the songs. so I guess songfic)

Johnny comes out (and he and Daniel keep going to that bar) fic (Cobra Kai, Johnny/Daniel)

Our Dear Mr. Wilson’s Guide To Becoming A Successful Contributing Member Of A Team Of Internationally Renowned High-Tech Do-Gooder Criminals (Leverage Redemption, gen with background OT3)

MASH marriage fic (MASH, Hawkeye/Trapper)

BJ figures out Hawkeye is not very heterosexual (MASH, gen)

[vanilladrpepper]

blinks. wip wednesday? looks around . 80s cryptid au ?

Marlon’s repair shop is dingy, dust collecting at the edges of several shelves housing old nuts and bolts. Marlon’s behind the counter, leg crossed up on his knee, tinkering with an old hunting rifle, a toothpick wedged in his teeth as he works. The ceiling fan wobbles a bit as it moves – an irritating squeal from the motor that’s lasted far too long. A radio crackles, playing Queen quietly into the dead air, Marlon humming along, the calluses on his hands running along the parts of the gun. 

The door to the shop opens, bell ringing as someone steps in, bringing the scent of cheap whiskey wafting into the store. Marlon garbles out a greeting around his toothpick, keeping his eyes on the gun. The newcomer shuffles over to an aisle – as if it’s practically tradition to them. Their search is short as can be, and before Marlon can even blink, they’re at the counter, a couple packs of Wams 7 and a box of two dozen bullets. Marlon sighs, not even looking up. 

“You back for the season, De Niro?” He asks, finishing up what he can before setting the rifle off to the side gently. He meets Roberto’s eyes, hazel meeting his own blue. He’s tired – that much can be figured out as easily as stepping outside to tell that it’s sunny as can be. Roberto, for his part, hums a noise, waving his hand in a simple motion. It is what it is. His shirt’s half untucked, as usual, a stuffy denim jacket wrapped around his shoulders. He’s got the little job pin stuck to his lapel, a bandage stuck to his cheek in what looks like an unfortunate scrape with a razor. “Nine seventy five.” He types up the codes he knows like the back of his hand at this point into the register. 

Roberto’s already flipping through his wallet, thumbing out some loose bills and sliding them across the counter. Marlon takes them up just as quickly, slipping them into the register. “Have any news for me, Frank?” He says, in lieu of any response. He watches as he tucks one of the packs into the pocket of his jacket, slipping the bullets and the other pack into a small paper bag that Frank slides over to him. 

“Same shit as ever, Roberto.” He crunches up the top of the brown bag, rolling it over and over. He shifts the toothpick in his mouth, Roberto seeming to know that he’s got something eating at him. 

“Spit it out, Marlon.” 

Marlon sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Well I know how y’all are with things that go bump in the night, so I’m not sure if it’s somethin’ to… talk about.” Roberto frowns under his moustache, glancing back at the rifle past his arm. 

“There’s something out in the woods now?” He asks, probing. Marlon feels his neck prickle under his scrutiny, gooseflesh raising. 

“That’s what the latest round of tourists are sayin’. Some huge thing out there, big glowin’ eyes and a wingspan of around thirty someodd feet. Cries out in the night like a weird bird.” He turns as he’s speaking, shuffling through the papers in one of his locked drawers. His fingertips clip on the edges of well worn and recently printed things alike, up until he finally finds what he was looking for, pulling out a small manilla folder and plopping it on the counter. Roberto thumbs at the edge of it, lifting an unimpressed gaze to meet his eyes. 

“Doesn’t sound like anything I’ve heard about in my neck of the woods.” He says, gruff as he picks up the folder. 

“Thought y’all had that big bird?” 

He reaches for the prongs, lifting them up and peeking into the package. “Yeah, but would a thunderbird only have a wingspan of thirty feet?” He plucks out a photograph that had been pressed into Marlon’s hands by his daughter over dinner. The hikers who had taken it had been so spooked they had handed it off to the nearest park ranger, ready to rid themselves of any evidence they had seen it. The photograph is blurry – they were only college kids out here for a week or so after all – the hues of the setting sun over the trees and mountain providing a nice backdrop. It would’ve been a good photo, if not for what could easily be mistaken as just a shadow or trick of the eyes if you didn’t look too closely. In the crook of some trees, a hulking mass blends into the greenery, none of its limbs or anything particularly recognizable apart from bright yellow eyes in the middle of the thing. Roberto squints as he pulls the photo closer to his face, lips crumpled up in disgruntlement. 

“Weird, right?” Marlon huffs, sitting back down in his chair, reaching for the gun again. Roberto hums, slipping the photo back into the folder and fingering through the rest of the contents – not pulling anything else out just yet. 

“Did you tell the pipsqueak yet?” Marlon clicks his teeth, gesturing vaguely with the gun. “He could’ve died and you stole his prize possession, I never know with you.” He says, closing up the folder again and tucking it under his arm, pressing it to his torso. 

“I’m not in the business of murder, Roberto.” 

“Didn’t say anything about murder.” He grins, something small and knowing. Marlon rolls his eyes, batting him away. 

“Go back up to your post, old man. Bother me in a week or two, would ya?” He starts back up on working on the gun, only registering that Roberto’s starting to head off out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Uh huh. See you then –  hopefully I’ll have some information to show you. Maybe even a few crosswords to rub in your face.” The words have Marlon exhaling a small laugh, not enough to register as one but enough to shake his shoulders just slightly. The bell rings again as Roberto leaves – and now that Marlon’s looking out for it, he hears the telltale rattle of his old ass truck coming to life and backing out of the parking lot. 

[knightskeeper]

WIP on upcoming peice

Boredom racked my brain as I kicked my legs back and forth on the grey fabric chair I was sitting on. I watched my legs go from underneath the chair to back out in front of me, desperate to entertain myself in any way I could. Once that became boring, I let out an exaggerated sigh before ceasing to kick my legs and looked up at the black and white clock hanging on the beige-colored wall. The hands on the clock had barely moved since the last time I looked, and I couldn’t help but feel mocked by the feint slow ticking. I then fixed my gaze on the door next to the clock, it would have practically blended into the wall if it hadn’t been for the black label plate in the upper part of it. I could recognize the horses pulling the carriage anywhere, I knew it well from the notebooks and folders my mom brought home from time to time. “Wells Fargo Breakroom” It read. Impatience growing, I daydreamed about hearing the tapping of my mother's heels leading up to the breakroom and her bursting through the door with a smile on her face, and her saying those magic words.

“Let’s go home, sweetie.” She’d speak.

Although my daydreaming was rudely interrupted by a deafening buzz. Looking around the room, past what seemed to be an ocean of boring white round tables and the same grey fabric chair copied and pasted. My eyes set upon a prehistoric-looking vending machine that seemed shoved between the back counter and a black fridge that looked just as crusty as the vending machine.

“Alright, Mr. Vending Machine. You’ve got my attention” I muttered to myself.

Interest peaked, I hopped off the fabric chair and made my way to the back of the room. My shoes made an audible Thwack noise against the discolored white while I made my way, however, I couldn’t help but look around the room as I made my way to the vending machine. No wonder my mom was always so tired whenever she came home from work, this room was just as lifeless as the beige color that lined it! The only pictures hanging on the walls were either the same horses pulling the carriage, or some variation of a butterfly, flower combo! Not to mention the whole room smelled like the inside of an old book. I scrunched my face in dissatisfaction, and the increasing hum of that darned machine the closer I got to it, wasn’t helping.

Alas, I finally made it to the vending machine, the front glass panel had a thin layer of dust along the rim, with visible dry streaks from whatever cleaner they used to “clean” this thing. Within it was an old yellow lightbulb that made all the treats it held look washed out and unpleasant. The buttons of A through G, and 1 through 9 looked equally aged and dirty. Some of the buttons were so worn you couldn’t even tell what letter or number they were supposed to be.

[coffee-in-veins]

...and another, a red horse, went out; and to him who sat on it, it was granted to take peace from Earth, and that men would slay one another;

— Revelation 6:3

frankly, this had been gathering dust in my WIP folder for ages now, and finally, i had enough courage and music to finish it off

so here, have an illustration for Ch3 "And a great sword was given to him" since it's not often i see Rey depicted during his worst years or giving into his worst zelaous tendencies, and i think should be addressed >:}

some closeups under keep reading because purity seals were barely visible and i've spent way too long on Chernush's head and harness not to show it off

[deepseaspriteblog]

So I have a couple of unused hair in my wips folder, hair from adopts or comms that I thought looked kinda good but didn’t fit what I wanted the adopt/custom to look. I have them all gathered in one XCF file but I keep forgetting about it until I have another hair to add to the pile. 

Today, I dust off a couple of the hairs and finally did something with them- some real quick adopts. Have some midbloods! 

OLIVE / JADE TEAL / CERULEAN 

[biolizardboils]

Crumpled Up Pages: Old Captain Underpants WIPs #1-4

The First Epic Movie turned 5 earlier this month, and I dug through some old folders to write this post about it. In the process, I found some fanfic ideas I’d written down, fleshed out a little, and then forgot about for years. So while hyperfixation still has its grip on me (and while there’s still some extra activity in the tag), I figured I’d finally set these dust bunnies free!

A few ground rules before this deep dive descends:

When I say “fleshed out a little,” I’m putting major emphasis on the “little.” Some of these docs contain detailed notes and snippets of dialogue, but others are just a title and a vague one-sentence summary. I’ll be transparent about what each one contains, and try to fill in the bigger gaps by memory.

If you were around for the CU Fandom Renaissance of 2017, some of the ideas here might sound familiar, ‘cus I refitted them into fanart and headcanon dumps that actually got posted. I’ll link to those where they’re relevant.

These were all written and abandoned months before a CU show was even announced, so there’s no Epic Tales content or characters in here. Sorry if you were expecting any!

I’m splitting this into two posts cus it was getting and taking too long. This first part will cover the 4 simplest, fluffiest WIPs; the second one will tackle the 6 sadder, more character-heavy ones. And with character-heavy stuff comes spoilers for the movie and books — especially the books. If you haven’t read all 12, you’re probably wondering why anyone would care about Captain Underpants spoilers. First off, your loss; second off, BEWARE!

And finally: if you write fanfiction and feel inspired to use any of these ideas? You have my permission to do so! Seriously, steal anything here and put your own spin on them! I don’t care much for credit, but if these old things help fuel someone else’s creativity, I’d love to know!

That’s enough prep, probably. Plug your nose!

WIP #1: Inspiration

It can come from even the worst of places. ...And people, in this case. [Book!Verse, pre-Book 1.]

This document contains a long script, but no context; I can remember the gist though, so I’ll insert that in-between dialogue. Basically it’s third grade, and George and Harold are in detention again. They cheat to fill up the blackboards like usual, but they’re too bummed out to start a comic afterwards. George sits around stewing in his frustration while Harold angry-scribbles Mr. Krupp yelling.

“...Why does he hate us so much, George?”

“I dunno. Maybe ‘cause he can’t handle our coolness? …Nice drawing, by the way.”

“Thanks. …It’s making me sad just lookin’ at it, though.”

“Yeah, me too. …I wonder what he’d look like if he smiled.”

“...?”

“...I mean, like, a real smile, not an I’ve-got-you-now smile.”

“Oh. Hmmm…”

Harold erases Krupp’s wide yelling mouth and draws a goofy smile in its place.

“Aw, man, now it’s just creepy.”

“Darn.”

The boys keep editing the drawing until it stops being creepy and starts being funny. George erases Krupp’s toupee, remembering the time they stole it and the teachers couldn’t take him seriously without it. Harold draws one of his office curtains around his neck, adding more color and kinetic energy. Soon they’re struggling not to laugh out loud, but they manage to calm down… until George gets an idea that takes the sketch from great to legendary.

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwait. Remember what my pop said about Superman yesterday?”

“That he looks like… DUDE. Duuuuuude.”

Harold redraws Krupp’s entire lower body so he’s only wearing underwear. Then with a flourish, he adds the finishing touch – two dots on his chest – and they both lose it. All their laughter finally prompts the real Krupp to check on them, and predictably, he rips up the drawing. It upsets the boys in the moment, but they’re still in much higher spirits than before, and brainstorm a new comic about their new creation as they skateboard home.

“You think we should make his origin issue first?”

“Naw, let’s get right to the action! His outfit’s already the perfect hook – finally, a superhero who actually does fly around in his underwear!”

“Yeah, and he could fight with Wedgie Power!”

God, rediscovering this gave me the most uncontrollable grin. From the date it was last opened, I think this fic was meant for September 1st, 2017 (Book 1’s 20th anniversary), and I gave up after missing it. For shame, 2017!me. For shame.

——————————————————————————————————

WIP #2: Untitled Boomer One-shot

Harold won’t admit it, but he’d slay a dragon for his little sister. [Book!Verse but only cus this scene was deleted and is thus dubiously canon]

This doc’s nothing but notes, so I’ll paraphrase the plot: Ms. Hutchins takes Heidi and Harold to Boomer the Purple Dragon: Live! Harold was gonna stay with the Beards but they cancelled last minute, and he’s grumpy about it the whole time. When the show ends, kids gather in front of the stage to meet Boomer; Ms. Hutchins suddenly gets an important call, and makes Harold walk Heidi up there. 

But the dragon’s mascot suit is big up close for a 6-year-old, and Heidi gets so scared she starts crying. She’s rooted to the spot and waves her arms in panic, but “Boomer” thinks she wants a hug and waddles closer and closer... until Harold kicks him in the groin. Their mom understandably grounds him for it, but Heidi is grateful and calls him her hero :)

This one was based on the classic “kid hits mascot in the weak spot” genre of AFV, but also on an early memory of mine! My sister and I loved Arthur as babies, so our mom took us to see this thing. The characters suddenly being real (and huge) was so upsetting that we scream-cried until she took us home early. (Speaking of Arthur, it’s a shame Heidi’s never really done anything in canon, I can see her having big DW energy.)

——————————————————————————————————

WIP #3: When Worlds Collide

It was less “love at first sight” and more “love at first squawk.” [Book!Verse, Book 7.]

A quick refresher: George told Harold to take Crackers back to dinosaur times, but he left her in the treehouse with Sulu instead. Later in the book, they’re shown snuggling in their sleep 🥺🥺 Anyway, this fic was about what they got up to in between! It’s actually the most complete of the lot, but only because it’s so short and simple.

It opens with Harold introducing them to each other, leaving out some treats for them (hamster food for Sulu, crackers for Crackers), then telling them to play nice until he comes back. They do not. Crackers pulls a Thunderclap the moment Harold leaves, Sulu karate-chops her throat until she spits him out, and they wreck half the treehouse in the ensuing chase.

Eventually they settle for standing in opposite corners and hissing at each other. Then Sulu… *squints* …records Crackers’ hisses with his bionic ears and plays them back so they can communicate? …Yeah, okay, why not. The outline ends after this sudden development; I’m guessing they talk things out and start to catch feels, before settling in to sleep. Anyway here’s the few sentences I actually wrote out:

Harold opened the door, Sulu got on the floor, and in walked the curious dinosaur.

[…] As predator and prey faced off, a little boy and his mother happened to be walking down Vine Street. “Mommy,” said the little boy, “I can hear a bionic hamster and a pterodactyl fighting in that treehouse!”

“Oh, please,” his mother scoffed. “How do you even know what that would sound like?”

The boy considered pointing out the CHOMPs, SQUEAKs, and SQUAAAWKs emanating from the tree in big blocky letters, but decided it wasn’t quite worth the trouble.

The doc ends with a reminder to not refer to Crackers with any pronouns until the two pets can understand each other. Also I was gonna title this after a Tony Orlando and Dawn song as foreshadowing, but I couldn’t choose one, so instead I went with this Spongebob song lol.

——————————————————————————————————

WIP #4: Untitled Tommy One-shot

The school’s been near bully-free ever since Treehouse Comix Inc. was formed. Tommy reflects on this from the safety of his locker. [Movie!Verse with a hint of Book 9. CW: discussion of bullying.]

A Kid I Never Named knocks on Tommy’s locker and offers to trade Pilkeymon. They have to be sneaky, because it’s the 90′s and they have to slip a Link Cable through the locker vents without being spotted.

As they trade, the other kid asks Tommy why he hides all the time. He explains that it’s a habit from when Kipper Krupp terrorized the halls. But Kipper left four years ago, and the legend of Wedgie Magee has kept other bullies at bay ever since; the other kid points this out and asks why he still hides. This led into “a somber discussion on adverse school experiences and the long-lasting coping mechanisms they cause” (exact words from the doc). Unfortunately 2017!me never wrote any dialogue, and I’m mad at her for that.

Trivia drop! I used the Pilkeymon joke a few times at @treehouseblogsinc, but it’s way older than that, and also not mine: Pilkey.com used to have a coloring game named Pilkeymon’s Paintbox. It even had art of Dav’s old spiky-haired avatar with Pikachu ears! There’s no trace of it on the Internet anymore, but I swear I’m not making this up.

I left a note here to add that Tommy has glow-in-the-dark stickers in his locker, which ended up in this headcanon dump. There’s also a list of last names I came up with for him but never chose between: Chambers, Lakatos (which I shared once here), and Lockenspiel. Right now I’m leaning towards the last one, it rolls nicely off the tongue.

——————————————————————————————————

That’s it for now! Not gonna lie, I’m still nervous about posting the other 6 WIPs. Most of them deal with Book 12, and all the tough subjects that that entails. But hey, I made this bed, and by God am I gonna lie in it. Thanks for reading so far!

[notebooks-and-laptops]

you're the words that i promise i don’t mean

The next day comes around and, when they come across a village at a crossroad, Jaskier books himself a night in the inn and Geralt continues North. Jaskier doesn’t ask if they’ll see one another again. He knows, deep in his bones with a certainty far beyond his years, that the answer is yes.

It is not until he is bathing that evening that he realises why the answer is yes.

He’s so used to the occasional ink splattering on his skin that needs washing off, that he doesn’t even note the words in block cursive travelling up his thigh for what they are for a good moment. Instead, he rubs absently at them with his small bar of soap, waiting for them to dissipate from his skin.

They do not.

He blinks.

Blinks again.

Shit.

A soulmark.

-///-

Or, when soulmates lie to one another, those lies are immortalised on each other's skin. Jaskier and Geralt tell each other a lot of lies.

-///-

This fic is the witcher, which isn’t my main fandom anymore, but it has been sat in my WIP folder for over two years and I finally decided to get it out and dust it up and post it so it could stop haunting me. So! Do enjoy! It’s the longest fic I’ve written since I was 16. You can find it here on AO3!

[honey-dewey]

Soulmate Imagines

Another short not drabbles but not full stories either! I was completely inspired by a post made by @absurdthirst and really really wanted to write the boys in these scenarios! So I completely ignored both of my active WIPS and wrote this instead. Oops? Enjoy these long and indulgent soulmate imagines!

Total Word Count: 5,179

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Din Djarin:

Soul Tattoo AU

“Shit!”

You hummed, turning your head over, vision fuzzy. Din was rushing around the Crest, and you could see red painting his beskar. Was he hurt? You tried to stand, and then it hit you. Oh. You were hurt.

“Din,” you rasped out, blinking as his fuzzy image came into more clarity.

Din looked at you, helmet trained on your face. “Cyar’ika,” he said, taking your cold hands. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got run over by a herd of Banthas,” you said, shifting and wincing. “What happened?”

“Bomb,” Din explained, gesturing to your torso, where you were wearing a thin robe and nothing else. “Hit your side. Patched you up best I could.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “Did it scar?”

Din hesitated. “Some of it will. Nothing on your back though.”

Relief flooded you. You had no idea why you were so worried about your soul tattoo, but you were. The beautiful star map to Aq Ventina spanned your entire back, from shoulders to tailbone, the sides creeping over your waist. You’d done research about Aq Ventina years ago, when the curiosity had finally peaked. You’d read up on the history and knew that it no longer existed, decimated by a droid attack decades before you’d even known it existed.

“It’s a beautiful tattoo,” Din said softly, out of nowhere.

“Thank you,” you said, looking at his helmet. “It’s my soul tattoo.”

Din nodded. “I figured.”

And that was the last it was spoken of for almost five months. The next time it was relevant was during a two day long bounty hunt, when Din left to shower and you sat in your shared inn room, cooing at Grogu.

The shower water turned off, and you heard Din drying off. Then he called your name.

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

Worried, you stood and headed to the bathroom. “Din?”

“Come here.” His voice bordered on urgent, and you immediately shoved the door open.

You were met with Din, completely shirtless yet still wearing the helmet, in the bathroom, no urgent problem in sight. However, instead of being mad, you were focused entirely on the tattoo that spread across Din’s back.

It was identical to yours.

“Din?” Your voice was tiny, so apprehensive.

He sighed, looking at you and taking your hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier,” he said. “But Aq Ventina was my home, so you have to understand that it was odd and a bit painful seeing the star map on your back.”

You nodded. “We’re soulmates,” you breathed. “I didn’t even know you had a soul tattoo.”

Din chuckled. “It’s not like I expose much skin,” he reasoned.

That drew a laugh out of you. “Yeah. But still.” Your fingers danced over the exposed edge of the star map that crept over Din’s side. “Soulmates.”

Din nodded, resting his forehead against your head. “Soulmates,” he agreed. “But only if you’ll have me.”

You smiled. “As if I could ever say no.”

Marcus Moreno:

Color Soulmate AU

To say you were stressed was an understatement. A huge project for Heroics was cradled in your arms, all sorts of papers and binders and information you were carrying to the filing room to be sorted. The stack was tall, which was probably why you didn’t see your boss until you ran directly into him.

“Fuck!” You shouted as you fell on your back, folders going everywhere. Marcus Moreno, your boss, was toppled next to you, also swearing.

“I am so sorry!” You said hurriedly, scrambling to gather the papers, eyes focused on your task. “I really should’ve looked where I was going and-“ you looked up, shock killing your words.

Marcus’s eyes were brown. Very very brown.

You gasped, your task entirely forgotten. “Oh.”

Marcus was staring at you with just as much shock as you were staring at him with. “Oh,” he echoed.

Your fragile moment was shattered by the click of heels and another employee coming over to check on you, her voice frantic.

“We’re fine,” Marcus reassured, standing and dusting himself off. Without saying anything else, he walked quickly away.

Once all the files were secure, you headed back to your desk and pulled out a small box of crayons. You’d never seen color, not ever, so this would be interesting. At least it would be if your hands would stop shaking.

One of your coworkers, Matt, came up to you as you used a teal crayon, marveling at the color. “Oh? You met your soulmate?”

You nodded, looking up and noticing the vibrant purple color to Matt’s tie. “Yeah. Bumped into him in the hall. Literally.”

Matt grinned. “Who is it?”

You cringed, the embarrassment setting in. “Mr. Moreno.”

“Mr. Moreno?” Matt practically yelled. “He’s our boss!”

“Yeah, I know!” You retaliated, checking your clock and scrambling up. “Fuck! I gotta go, that huge meeting is in ten.”

Matt smiled. “Good luck!”

Despite Matt’s wishes, you were fairly certain the presentation was a disaster. Marcus was missing, which was odd, and you ended up tripping over your words and getting a huge migraine halfway through the presentation. After sheepishly explaining the scenario, you were told to go home and adjust, you could redo the presentation tomorrow.

Of course, tomorrow was just as bad. Marcus was actually present, wearing a yellow tie that kept distracting you and forcing your words out in a jumble.

After the train wreck of a presentation, you decided this was a situation that called for a large hot chocolate. Getting one and settling in the cafeteria, you sighed, swirling your drink with a spoon. You were a certifiable mess.

The creaking of the chair brought your attention back to planet earth, and you looked up, nearly choking on your spit. “Mr. Moreno!”

“Please, I think we should be on a first name basis,” Marcus said. “So.”

“So.”

Marcus tapped the table. “I’m sorry I ran off yesterday. I just, well, I haven’t seen color since my- Since Clara died.”

You nodded. “I understand if you don’t want this,” you murmured, looking back down at your drink. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Marcus asked. “No! I’m, well, a little excited.”

That shocked you. “Excited?”

“Yeah.” Marcus nodded. “Excited. Missy’s over the moon, of course.”

You grinned. “Thanks. Sorry I’m so nervous. I’ve never seen any of this before.”

“Really?” Marcus said. “Oh I definitely know what we’re doing first.”

“What?”

Marcus smiled, taking your hands. “You’re going to love sunsets.”

Max Phillips:

Black Mark Soulmate AU 

“Oh no.”

You stared at your boss with nothing short of mild fear. Max fucking Phillips. There was no goddamn way. You’d known him very briefly in college, but this, this was unexpected.

He smiled at the employees, shaking hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

As if his right palm wasn’t the color of fresh stained ink.

He walked up to you, holding out his ink stained hand. You were hesitant to accept. After all, your right hand was equally black. But handshakes were common, very common among soulmate meets. Max Phillips was not your soulmate.

You were able to tell yourself that until the moment your hands touched, the blackness turning into a beautiful swirl of bright colors.

Max’s eyes widened as he looked at you. “Your hand.”

“Yours too,” you said, letting go of Max’s hand and letting him examine the watercolor of reds and purples that spread across his skin.

Max took a nervous breath. “No. Something must be wrong.”

You were shocked. “Max. Is it really that bad?”

“You don’t understand!” Max snapped, scaring you a tiny bit. He leaned closer, so you could see the devilish gleam in his eyes. “I have no soul.”

Your blood chilled as you saw the overly sharp teeth and the hint of red behind the deep brown in Max’s eyes. “Max.”

But he was gone, disappeared from right in front of you. Blinking a few times, you turned to your computer, determined to uncover the truth about your mysterious boss and the still tingling rainbow of colors on your palm.

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:

Countdown Soulmate AU

The countdown timer was surprisingly unnerving.

Actually, was it really that surprising? It was counting down to the most important day pretty much ever. Yours had always had years and years, much longer than any of your friends, but you didn’t mind. That was just more time to prepare.

Of course, when you woke up one day to find that the timer that had read seven months suddenly read twelve hours, you freaked the hell out. Taking deep breaths, you calmed yourself and got dressed, texting your best friend and asking him when he wanted you over for movie night. He responded with eight, and promised that you’d love his friends.

With one last deep breath and a glance around your apartment, you left for the day.

And ended up with a popped tire on the side of the road ten minutes before eight.

Screaming your frustration into the night darkened woods and frightening some poor birds, you sighed and called roadside service. An hour, at least, before they could get to you.

Your next call went to Benny, who you apologized to and told him you’d make it up to him.

Your final call was to no one. You simply sat back in your car and waited for roadside service while you tapped away at some mind numbing game you’d downloaded on a whim.

Headlights were visible in the distance not even ten minutes later, which shocked you and then worried you. Who the hell was out on this road this late at night? Were you about to be murdered? Who would find your body? Would Benny still hold true to his promise and wear a lime green tutu to your funeral?

The car stopped when it saw you, and your anxiety skyrocketed. You quickly texted Benny one last time and locked your car.

“Hey!” A few sharp knocks and a face in the window. “Do you need help?”

You were trembling, trying to keep a brave face. “Tire popped.”

“Oh.” The voice sounded genuinely worried. “That sucks. Where are you headed?”

“A friend’s house.”

“Did you call roadside?”

“An hour.”

“Oof. Hungry?”

“What?” You looked over, seeing the dimly lit silhouette of a man holding up what was probably a granola bar. “Yeah actually, I am.”

The man’s cheeks lit up, and you assumed he was smiling. “Well you’re gonna have to open up if you want it.”

You hesitantly cracked the door and watched the man step back. The car lights illuminated him fully, revealing a very attractive man holding a slightly squished granola bar.

Turning in the seat so that your legs were hanging out the car, you took the offered food, smiling as you ate. “Lord this is good! Thank you!”

The man shrugged. “No problem. I’m Frankie.”

You mumbled your name around the granola bar, and then froze as your wrist burned warm and then cold, a clattering alerting you to the fact that your timer had fallen off.

And from the look on Frankie’s face, so had his.

He looked back up at you, seemingly nervous. “So can I get in the car now? I promise I’m not a creep.”

You nodded, still slightly shocked as Frankie got into your car, sitting in the passenger seat. It was silent for a minute before you spoke. “So. Soulmates.”

“Soulmates,” Frankie agreed. “I’m glad I shared that granola bar with you.”

Your phone pinged, and you swore softly, answering Benny’s text and then rereading it. “Do you, by any chance, know a Benny Miller?”

“Yeah,” Frankie said. “I was headed to his place when I saw you.”

“Me too.” You showed him the text, which read ‘Dude! Be careful! My buddy Frankie’s coming along, so if you get attacked, he’ll totally protect you. Also, totally not wearing that tutu because you’re not dying first.’

Frankie smiled. “You’re in on the tutu thing too?”

You laughed. “Oh god! Not you too!”

“Yeah!” Frankie said, laughing along with you. “Benny totally already has it, y’know.”

You sighed. “Damn. That’s wild.”

The hour until roadside service arrived was filled with stories and bonding. After your car was towed, you got in Frankie’s truck and headed to Benny’s, arm in arm.

“Hey, Frankie found the murder victim!” Benny said happily, opening the door. “Oh shit, dudes I was starting to get worried about you.”

Frankie shook his head. “Actually, it couldn’t have played out better.”

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels:

First Words Soulmate AU

You sighed, taking a breath. Today you were meeting your baby brother’s coworkers at a work party. It wasn’t supposed to be so damn nerve wracking, but your stomach was a ball of anxiety. “Danny, are you sure about this?”

Danny, or as he was better known at work, Tequila, nodded. “Hell yeah, it’ll be fun.”

You tugged your bracelet, trying to cover the words winding across your wrist.

What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?

The Statesman Fourth of July party was apparently a big deal. There were sure as hell a lot of people. You stuck by Danny’s side, smiling at his coworkers and eventually sitting with a woman named Ginger. She was nice, and when Danny wandered off to flirt with someone, she stayed with you, giving you names to attach to faces.

“Oh, and that’s Jack,” she said, pointing to someone talking to Champ. “One of the longest lasting agents we have.”

You eyed Jack. He was handsome, especially with that cowboy hat. He must’ve noticed your staring, because he wandered over and sat down at the table.

“So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?”

You took a breath, gripping the hem of your shorts and trying to think without looking awkward. A thousand responses rushed through your head, and you finally picked one you hoped wasn’t weird. “I dunno cowboy, why do you ask?”

Jack recoiled as if he’d just had ice water poured on his head. Ginger stood, shocked as Jack ran away. “What just happened?”

You were nearly speechless, tears starting to well up. “I think my soulmate just ran away from me.”

After a good long crying session in which you sobbed openly into Danny’s jacket and he vowed to absolutely murder Jack, Ginger gently explained Jack’s past with his previous soulmate. Which sent you into another round of crying and made Danny even more pissed.

He ended up taking you home early to watch shitty movies and eat tons of ice cream, comforting you as you numbly ate half a pint of Ben and Jerry’s on the couch.

When he left for work the next day, you made him swear not to hurt Jack.

You got a call from Ginger two hours later telling you to come pick Danny up.

Marching into Statesman again, you found Ginger at the entrance, lips pressed tight. She led you to the infirmary, where Danny was proudly sporting a black eye and a split lip. Jack was laying in a bed next to him, pressing ice to his cheek.

“Control your fucking brother!” He yelled as soon as he saw you, sitting up in the bed. “He nearly killed me!”

“Oh shut the fuck up!” You snapped back. “You best be glad I’m not petty, or else I’d have let him kill you.”

Jack was, wisely, silent as you helped Danny up and out of the building. Danny was also silent, but was definitely smug about it.

“Y’know I totally won that fight,” he said as you exited the building.

You sighed. “Sure. Whatever. Let’s go home.”

The next day, you got a call from an unknown number.

“This is Jack,” the voice on the other end said when you picked up. “I’m calling to apologize for beating your brother up.”

“Apparently he won the fight.”

Jack snorted. “Sure he did. Look, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

A pause. “Cool. See you around.”

“Yeah. See you.”

He hung up first, leaving you with a dead hole in your chest. When you would see that cowboy again, you didn’t know, but when you did, oh boy was he in for it from you.

Ezra:

Pain Sharing Soulmate AU

You were screaming.

Well, screaming may not have been the word to describe the feeling. No, the agony in your right arm was numbing pain, the kind of pain that brought out animalistic noises and made spots dance across your vision. You writhed on the floor, clutching your upper arm and begging someone, anyone, to make the pain stop. A few nurses you worked with tried to dose you with painkillers, but nothing could touch soulmate pain.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the pain began to fade. You’d had some aches in that arm after a stab that was really painful and you’d assumed some kind of injury that your soulmate had sustained was being treated. But that, that harsh, indescribable pain that had you sweating and panting on the floor with your head spinning, you had no explanation for that.

After that, the nurses set you up in the break room with fluids and a light snack. Your right arm still hurt like hell, but it was manageable now. As time passed, the pain passed, until it was no more than a dull ache once more, with some odd numbness that lingered in your fingertips.

Of course, on the day you decided to try working for a few hours, your soulmate went and got himself fatally injured again.

Gasping and falling sideways, you gritted your teeth through a scream as your gut lit on fire, as if someone had driven a knife into your belly. It was the second time in three days that your soulmate had put you through this. What the hell was he doing?

Yet again, you were put in a room to wait out the pain, probably scaring patients with your sobs and pleads for any merciful god to put you out of your misery. This pain refused to fade, and you completely missed the wail of emergency sirens as a new patient in critical condition arrived.

Eventually, finally, the pain forced you unconscious.

You woke a few days later, breathing deeply as you realized you weren’t in any pain. The faint voice of a doctor met your ears as you slowly regained your senses.

“We’re all shocked they survived. With pain like that, I surely wouldn’t have been as strong as they were. First it was their arm, and then their stomach. We still don’t really know what happened.”

The doctor turned to you, and smiled when he noticed your open eyes. “Finally, you’re awake. We have someone who wants to talk to you.”

You grumbled, trying to string together the past few days. “What?”

The doctor gestured to a man sitting in the other bed in the room. “This is Ezra, our critical patient from a few days ago.”

“I was too busy being stabbed in the stomach to notice any crit patients,” you pointed out.

“Yes, well,” the doctor said with a smile. “He may have some answers for you.”

You sat up, rubbing your aching head and facing the other man in the room.

He looked like hell, face sunken and shining with post injury sweat. You reasoned that you probably didn’t look much better. But the interesting thing about the man was his bandage wrapped right arm. Or more accurately, his lack of an arm that was wrapped in bandages.

“Hi Ezra,” you said slowly, rubbing your temples. “Is this my headache or yours?”

Ezra chuckled. “I think it’s yours,” he said. “I can’t feel any of my own pain right now.”

You sighed. “Doc, can I get some painkillers? I got a headache.”

The doctor nodded, grabbing a few pills, but you shook your head. “The good shit, please.”

Smiling, the doctor picked up a syringe and lifted your left arm, considering your right still felt a bit numb. “Countdown?”

“Nah.”

The doctor gave you the painkillers, and you watched Ezra wince at the pinch from the needle as it hit your skin. Laying back as the painkillers took effect, you sighed, looking at Ezra. “I’d love to stay and chat,” you murmured sleepily. “But this stuff works fast.”  

Ezra smiled. “Don’t worry songbird,” he said. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

Javier Peña:

Soulmate’s Name on Wrist AU

“Get up! New client!”

You groaned, adjusting your top and trotting into the hall, standing with the group of women waving and giggling at the new client. He looked up at your group, a light grin on his face.

“He’s cute,” you said to the woman next to you.

She nodded. “He’s a regular at places like this,” she said. “Says his name’s Javier.”

You froze, the small name tattooed on the inside of your wrist practically burning. “Javier? He got a last name?”

“Not that he’ll share.”

In the end, you were Javier’s lucky victim, mostly because when he asked your name and you responded, his watch-covered wrist twitched. So he was your soulmate. Or at least you were his. He showed you bliss, paid you handsomely, and left without a word but with a spark.

Two weeks later, you ran into him again. You’d been in touch with a man at the US embassy about cartel stuff, mostly that the cartels had been reaching out to people like you and you wanted to stay safe, and the man had invited you to come over and give a statement. You were hesitant, of course, but the man looked kind enough, and the other employees knew him well enough that you felt secure.

“This is my partner, agent Peña,” the man said as he gestured you into a room. “But,” he said slowly, eyeing the bare name on your wrist. “I think you knew that already.”

“I did.”

Javier took a breath. “Can we get this done with?” He said, trying to sound annoyed but only succeeding at stressed.

Your statement was quiet and precise, and before you knew it, Javier was walking you out.

“Javier,” you tried.

“Don’t,” Javier growled. “Just go, forget you ever met me.”

“I can’t!” You all but yelled, grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t walk off. “I’ve been wearing your name since the day I was born, you think I can just forget all of that?”

Javier was quiet. “You think I want a soulmate?” He asked quietly, and you froze.

“I’m sorry?”

“No!” Javier growled, shaking his head. “I mean, fuck. This job, if they find out you’re connected to me, they’ll kill you.”

Your blood went cold, but you kept your composure. “Hate to break it to you,” you said, shoving Javier’s sleeve up and exposing your name written on his wrist. “But we’re already connected.”

From that day forward, you were under protection. You quit your job, moved reluctantly to an apartment that was secured by the embassy, and barely left the brand new apartment for anything. The war on drugs dragged on, and every so often, Javier would shuffle across the hall and find solace in your arms, always leaving before dawn.

One night, after a particularly hard day, you and him were tangled together on the couch, name wrists pressed against each other. Your skin burned and prickled at the intimate contact, but Javier was so lost he didn’t even notice.

“Javi?”

“Hm?”

You smoothed through his hair. “Will we ever be safe enough to be soulmates?”

Javier was quiet. “I don’t know.”

You sighed. “One day, I hope we will.”

Another long silence, and then Javier spoke up. “Me too.”

That morning, you woke up in his arms instead of in an empty bed, wondering exactly how life would shake out now that you had fallen in love with your soulmate.

Maxwell Lord:

Dream Sharing Soulmate AU

“I’m going to cry,” you groaned, pressing your head to the table. “He hasn’t slept in days.”

Your coworker, Ellie, sighed. “Hon, you just gotta keep trying. Go home, rest up. Get some sleep.”

You stood. Ellie was right. Just because Max wasn’t sleeping didn’t mean you had to punish yourself. You’d been going rounds with him for months, and it was really starting to weigh on your own sleep schedule. All you needed, all you wanted was to go home and sleep for days to correct your broken internal clock.

Your apartment was cold when you got back, and you quickly fiddled with the thermostat before stripping and falling into bed, cuddling up with the blankets and falling asleep almost immediately.

Just as with every night your soulmate didn’t sleep, you didn’t have a soul dream. Instead, you had your regular dreams, all nonsensical and silly. You woke up at one point to eat before falling back into bed, still exhausted.

This time, your dreams were different. You were in a soul dream, which meant he was finally sleeping.

“Max!”

No response as you ran around the elementary school, but you quickly skidded to a stop, seeing bullies mock a young boy for his lunch. That was your Max as a child, and you immediately rushed to his aide.

“Max.”

The real Max, the one who was asleep right now, looked at you with worry, finally tearing his eyes off the bullies. “You.”

“Me,” you said softly. “You need more sleep.”

Max shrugged. You knew who he was, after all, who didn’t? But the suave businessman you knew on TV was very different from the scared man you knew from your dreams. “Wasn’t tired.”

“For three days?” You asked. “Max, that isn’t healthy.” You felt a tug on your gut, a signal that your dream was starting. “C’mon.” You held a hand out, offering Max a reprieve. “My dreams are kind.”

He accepted, taking your hand as you led him to your dreams. In your subconscious reality, you were a child again, laughing and ice skating with your parents.

“Can you skate?” You asked Max, still holding his hand. He shook his head.

You smiled. “That’s okay, you can learn.” You snapped your fingers and skates appeared on both of your feet. “C’mon!”

Turned out, Max was an abysmal skater, but he was laughing by the time your bodies were ready to wake up.

“I don’t wanna go,” he admitted, and you grinned, squeezing his hands tight. “Can we do this again?”

“Tomorrow night,” you promised. “I’ll find you.”

For almost a month, you rescued Max from embarrassing or painful dreams, taking him to your more comforting dreams. Occasionally, he’d do the opposite for you when you had a nightmare, but you mostly spent the nights in your dreams, watching fireworks or going swimming. His darkest secrets were no longer secret, and he trusted you with everything.

“Y’know,” he said softly as you and him watched a Fourth of July fireworks show from when you were seven. “We could do this in real life.”

“We could,” you murmured, leaning closer to him. “The fourth is, what, next week? Doesn’t DC do a beautiful fireworks show?”

Max nodded. “We could make our first shared memory.”

You smiled. “We could,” you agreed. “We will. I’m not too far from DC, I can totally drive down on the fourth. I’ll pick you up from work, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds perfect,” Max murmured softly. “Dreamlike even.”

You laughed. “Dork.”

“Hey, you fell in love with me!”

“Yeah,” you said, looking at Max’s firework illuminated face. “I did.”

Pero Tovar:

Color Soulmate AU 

You pressed the leaf between your fingers, trying to gauge how sick the plant was. The grey color didn’t worry you, because you were fairly certain it was still green. “It just needs more water,” you determined, standing and brushing yourself off. “Try watering these plants daily instead of every other.”

The woman you were helping nodded, and you smiled at her as you walked back to your own garden. Rolling your sleeves up, you got to work tending to your plants.

It was hours before you looked up, alerted by the sound of hooves on the ground. A mysterious man was sitting atop a horse, his hair long and greasy, his face creased from what you imagined was a grueling ride. He jumped off the horse and stumbled in your direction, leaning against the fence. You stood, abandoning the plants in favor of helping the man.

He shook off your help, but stopped the second his hand connected with yours and both your worlds exploded with color.

You stumbled back, the sudden colors shocking you as the man reeled from you, his sun battered face full of shock.

“I’m sorry!” You said quickly, steadying yourself and reaching out to the man. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” the man said firmly, right before he passed out.

Two days later, the man woke up, his partner by his side. The blond man had showed up yesterday, introducing himself as William and the mystery man as Pero Tovar.

Pero looked around, nervous as he saw you in the corner, slowly and methodically mending his shirt. “William, quien es este.”

William shrugged. “I don’t know. Not a nurse, from what I can tell.”

“Diles que se vayan.”

“I’m not leaving,” you said, without looking up. “And please continue to talk about me in a language you assume I don’t understand.”

Pero blinked a few times. “You’re smart.”

“I pick up on languages fast,” you said, setting down the mended shirt. “Who are you, Pero Tovar?”

William looked between you two before finally speaking up. “Should I leave?”

“Please,” you said.

William left, and you crossed your legs. “So, who are you?”

“No one you should know,” Pero growled, getting up and grabbing his shirt. “Just forget you ever met me. You have your colors, go live a happy life.”

You frantically tried to keep him in the village, but he left with William as soon as the local medic deemed him okay.

For the next week, you slowly learned colors, finding your favorites with much trial and error. Some of the village women who had lost their soulmates in battles consoled you as you grieved for a man you barely knew, a man who had given you a universe of change and then left as if it had been nothing.

Almost exactly one week later, the sound of hooves rang out again, and this time, you didn’t look up from your gardening. At least, not until the visitor entered your garden, standing in front of your vegetables.

You looked up at him, taking in a much neater and more groomed Pero. He seemed nervous, shuffling from foot to foot.

Standing, you raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

Pero nodded, handing you his dagger.

You took the weapon. “What’s this?”

“In my culture,” Pero began. “When a man is ready to settle with his soulmate, he must give them his most prized weapon as a way of showing he is ready to stop fighting and raise a family.”

The dagger gleamed in the sunlight, and you smiled. “Well then, I guess I should make dinner for two, shouldn’t I?”

Pero grinned. “Yes, that would be nice. I’m hungry.”

[alolowrites]

No Capes!

Summary: Mirio visits you at work for a lunch date, but plans change when he meets the one and only Edna Mode.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone!!! First story of 2021, yay!! So this story sat in my WIPs folder since June 2020 (i think, idk I just remember brainstorming and writing a first draft around that time). Left it alone and worked on it these last few days. I couldn’t resist pulling this story thread because hello: it’s Edna Mode we’re talking about lmao. (also this is fanfic so logic is out the window)

Story is a Pro Hero AU (crossover technically??) and it is a fem!Reader. Please enjoy!

Word Count: 1.1K+

The phone rings off the hook and echoes around the sleek lobby. A female receptionist, cool as a cucumber, answers each call without looking away from the computer screen. She ignores the chaos buzzing around her, filled with rattling clothes racks and frantic chit chatter.  

Mirio steps inside, breathing in the madness as though he’s at a flower field. He strolls toward the receptionist’s desk with a bright smile and casually leans against the marble counter. The young lady does a double-take when she sees the pro hero in all his glory.

“Ah, Lemillion!” She hangs up the phone, which miraculously stays silent. “How may I help you?”  

“Well, I’m here to meet my lovely sunshine,” Mirio nods toward the general direction of your office. “Think I can visit her? We have a lunch date today.”

“Let me make a quick call.” The receptionist presses your extension number and taps her fingers on the desk. Mirio glances at the water fountain flowing behind, admiring the artistic beauty that somehow ties the whole place together. His ears perk up when he hears your name, followed by: “I’m so sorry to bother, ma’am, but Mr. Lemillion is here to see you.”

Mirio beams to himself; he never gets tired of hearing his hero name.

“Uh-huh, yes, ma’am. I will let him know.” The phone clicks and the receptionist sits up straight to deliver the news. “She will be out in a minute.”

You barrel into the lobby in less than five seconds.

Your frantic eyes land on Mirio, who bounces like an adorable golden retriever. You narrowly avoid a fatal crash with a clothes rack as you approach your boyfriend, gasping, “Mirio! What are you doing here?”

He pecks your lips and laughs, “We have a lunch date, sunshine!”

“Oh, that’s right!” You slap your forehead for not remembering this sooner. Your lips twitch into an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, honey. I meant to call you about rescheduling our little date for today. Something came up.”

“Don’t sweat it, sunshine,” Mirio shrugs, caressing your cheek. “We’ll eat another time, and I’ll make sure it’s extra special for you.”

“Ugh, you’re too good for me, you know that?” You mumble against his lips, giving him another quick kiss. A deep sigh reaches Mirio’s ears as your hands slide down against his chest. You glance behind your shoulders with a frown. “Sorry, I just have to deal with a certain someone right now.”

“Do I know them?”

“No!” Both your arms immediately shoot out, blocking the hero from moving forward. Mirio blinks at your bizarre reaction. He raises a concerned eyebrow as you peek over your shoulders again, this time with more urgency.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes! Really, I am!” You bring your arms close to your chest and avoid Mirio’s unconvincing gaze. However, it doesn’t last long since he raises your chin with one finger. Another long sigh escapes your lips. “Listen, I’ll explain everything later, but you must go. Now.”

“But why—”

“Mirio, I love you and all, but you really gotta go,” you beg, pushing the hero toward the glass doors with impressive strength. The blonde man stumbles backward and stammers out your name, but your fearful eyes shut him up. “You can’t be here, okay? You’re wearing your cape socanyoupleasegobefore—”

“Dah-ling!”

Chaos and time freeze in the lobby. Panic ripples throughout your body at the sound of that particular voice; you’re too late, and you’re afraid of what might happen next. Mirio hisses as your nails dig into his costume, almost hard enough to draw out blood. He gently pulls your hands away and looks straight ahead.

Mirio is dumbfounded when he sees an old lady as short as an elf yet exudes an air of confidence fit for the gods. Her unique bob hair shines underneath the ambient lights, the sharp tip ends curling along her face. She dusts off a sleeve and fixes her large round glasses before holding her head high—everything about her screams power without uttering a single word.

“What is taking you so long?!” The lady huffs with one arm crossed. Her blasé attitude cracks a little when she spots Mirio. Twirling her thin black stick at him, she demands, “Who is he? And why is he wearing that awful hobo suit out in public? Who dressed you, plain man?”

“Edna, we talked about this,” you scold, although the woman shrugs at your tone. Rolling your eyes, you face the oddly quiet hero and grab his attention. “Mirio—”

“Huh?” He notices your hesitant smile.

“Please let me introduce you to Edna Mode; she’s a close family friend of mine,” you gesture a hand her way. “Edna, this is Lemillion, aka Mirio Togata; he’s a pro hero here in Japan and is my...boyfriend. For my sake, please don’t scare him.”

“Boyfriend, you say?” Edna does a once-over, assessing him like a garment inspector judging a fabric’s quality. You silently pray she doesn’t see the cape and almost breathe a sigh of relief when she holds her tongue. But the panic returns as her sharp eyes narrow at Mirio. A sweatdrop rolls down your forehead when Edna slithers closer. “Wait a minute...what is he wearing?”

Oh no.

“Like you said: a hobo suit!” You squeak, protectively shielding the confused hero. Your remark delivers a harsh blow to his stomach. Suddenly, you shove him closer to the exit, not caring if they don’t open; he could just phase through them. You awkwardly laugh, “It’s a real eyesore, I know.”

Mirio balks, “What?”

“We can talk about this later!”

“What is this?!” Edna clenches the red drapes flowing down Mirio’s back. You’re surprised it doesn’t burn into ashes in her unforgiving grasp. You cower under Edna’s menacing glare, sinking deeper into Mirio’s chest for support. The hero, meanwhile, holds you up with a hand around your waist. He puts on a brave face despite feeling scared shitless.

Eventually, you meekly answer, “It’s uh...it’s a cape?”

“Exactly! No capes!”

The cape sags when Edna lets go, dangling her hand out as if she touched a dirty toilet. She demands a box of Clorox wipes and a flamethrower. You pinch the bridge of your nose at her absurd antics. A fierce stick points at you and Mirio when Edna shouts, “We must discuss this travesty in my office, immediately!”

You scrunch your face as she trots away. “But it’s my office!”

“Bring the mess with you too!”

Great…

A headache pounds against your skull; it’s too early to deal with this madness. Still, you have no choice but to follow Edna and face the fire. Of course, most of it will be directed toward Mirio, who committed the actual fashion crime. With a final sigh, you mumble, “C’mon on.”

“Wait, what did I do?!”

“You wore a cape.” Mirio scratches his head, not understanding why his cape got him in trouble. Tugging his hand, you drag him to your office and shoot him a pointed look. “Edna’s hatred for capes goes way back, and now we’re both gonna get an earful about it.”

“It can’t be that bad, right?”

“Oh, honey, you have no idea.”

As always, thanks for reading!!

[dragonologist-phd]

4, 5, 34 for the writer ask!

thank you for the ask!

Top 5...

4. canon fics

starting off with the hardest decision, I see! It’s some touch choices, but here’s what I finally landed on:

If The Creeks Don't Rise: Pillars of Eternity, Watcher/Aloth

He said, Tell me, are you coming back? I said, Darling, if the creeks don't rise.

A journey through the relationship of Desta and Aloth, down the roads that twist and turn and always lead them back to each other.

lover, be good to me: Dragon Age, Zevran/Mahariel

Snippets of Zevran Arainai and Allys Mahariel's relationship, as inspired by the ZevWarden 2021 Prompts

A Toast To The Luckless: Wrath of the Righteous, Woljif & Commander

Piper and Woljif reflect on tall tales and strange twists of fate. Wine is drunk. Backstories are shared. Candlesticks are stolen.

A Beauty Calm And Clear: Wrath of the Righteous, Commander/Arueshalae (pre-relationship)

Arueshalae and Piper share a moment as they reflect on the nature of the Azata.

Burn It Down: Wrath of the Righteous, character study

Hell hath no fury quite like Knight-Commander Lilith.

5. canon divergent fics

If The Heavens Ever Did Speak: Pillars of Eternity, Watcher/Woedica (divergent in the sense that Nona is not ‘canonically’ the Watcher, a surprising amount of dialogue is in fact straight from the game)

In another world, Nona left Aedyr for the Dyrwood and was granted the power to change the world. But for all that changes, some things will always remain the same- and Nona Vercae will always, above all else, be loyal in her service to her Queen.

Of Diamonds And Dust: Dragon Age

Marja Aeducan and Darvis Brosca lead lives as different as one could possibly imagine. Marja Aeducan, a member of the nobility and second in line for the throne, has spent her life maneuvering the dangerous political machinations of the Assembly and the Diamond Quarter. Meanwhile, Darvis Brosca, a Casteless dwarf rejected by society, does whatever it takes to survive amid the gangs on the streets of Dust Town.

When a Grey Warden arrives in Orzammar, the lives of Marja and Darvis are forever changed. Driven from the city by misfortune and betrayal, the two must join the ranks of the Wardens in order to save their own lives. But the surface has far greater dangers than they realize. The noble and the thief will need to stand together if they're going to fight against the oncoming Blight, the brewing civil war, and the strange surface malady called "sunburn".

Knight-Commander as Companion Prompt for Piper: Wrath of the Righteous (not technically a fic but I did write a lot for it so it counts!)

A profile, description, and story arc for Piper in a world where she is not the Knight-Commander, but one of the Knight-Commander's companions.

...and that’s all! heh, most of my stuff this year was in-between-scenes, so not much in the area of canon divergence!

34. WIPs for 2022 👀

Ooh, let’s see-

1. Of Diamonds And Dust (Dragon Age) is still incomplete and will be for a very long time, but is in progress and I’m very excited for some upcoming chapters!

2. The Duryd Archives (Pillars) has not been updated in a while but I do have ideas and they will be written! This is one my few fics where I actually have to ~plot~ which is why it’s moving slowly lol

3. I have an idea for a fic with Desta and her Kind Wayfarer mentors that I really need to write because I’ve been thinking about for a while now and I want to share it

4. I have some vague ideas about a short post-game fic for Lilith, mainly because I want to write about her and Regill being Devil besties <3

5. Another thing I really need to finish is the half-written Sirena/Anora fic sitting in my drafts folder...I really love them I just need to write them, and I’m waiting for inspiration to hit again while in the meantime the doc just sits there...mocking me...

2021′s ‘Best Of’ Ask Game

[crystaljins]

River lead me home | 07

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 7.3k

Synopsis:  Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: Hey all! Long time no see! I’m not really sure why I took so long to post... I just felt like I put so much work into this fic that I didn’t want it to be over so easily, and I was like “after this there’s only one more chapter!!” AND THEN! I went into my WIPs folder and made a discovery! THere’s 9 parts to this fic!! So now I feel a little better.

ANyway, PLEASE let me know if you like this chapter because I definitely feel like it’s the emotional climax of the whole story. ALl the stuff that happens from this point on is just... like a really long epilogue. 

Tags: @blue1928​ @veeparkersstuff @nello-rie (soz it won’t tag you!) ​

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

You may be a guardian, but even you have your limits. Despite your best attempts to move quickly, the pain in your shoulder rapidly becomes overwhelming. 

Jin, frustratingly, picks up on it far sooner than you would prefer. 

“I think we need to stop for a break.” He comments. The three of you have barely been walking for an hour and at any moment the Saishta’s could be upon you, ready to take you to their queen. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to protest. 

“We’re so close though! It’s only a little while longer!” He points out, glancing nervously across the expansive plains. The benefit of them is that you’d spot any Saishtas from miles away, given the hulking, monstrous beasts they tend to use as their mounts.

Jungkook folds his arms. “I think it’s a bad idea to stop now. We need to get to the river and we’re sitting ducks out on the plains like this.”

Jin shoots Jungkook a withering look- this is nothing new, but the venom in Jin’s eyes surprises you. As much as he pretends to hate the tiny pixie, he doesn’t actually mean it. 

Jungkook shrivels a bit but doesn’t back down. Luckily (or rather, unluckily), their stand-off is halted by your legs deciding they are no longer strong enough to hold your body up. Blood loss and extreme pain will do that, apparently. 

Jin catches you as you crumble, smoothly scooping an arm around your waist and gently tugging you towards him until your weight is supported by his frame. The entire time, he does not tear his gaze from his stare-off with Jungkook. And apparently your weakness is the convincing Jungkook needs to show it’s time for a break. He glares at Jin for another couple of moments before releasing an annoyed huff. 

“I’ll cast a disguising spell on you two and scout out the area for any of those annoying reptiles. Don’t move from this spot or the spell will become ineffective.” He announces through grit teeth before zooming off like an angry mosquito. 

When he’s out of earshot, Jin turns his gaze to you and gently lowers you to the ground until you are seated amongst the stiff golden stems. He doesn’t release you from his carefully hold, however. Instead, he shifts until he is sitting almost nose-to-nose with you. 

“That was strange of Jungkook.” You observe, in an attempt to cover your discomfort at his proximity. You wonder if Jin knows how powerful his good looks are up close. He probably does- he’s never pretended to be anything other than devastatingly handsome. 

“He’s scared.” Jin answers with pursed lips. His gaze isn’t on your face, however. It’s fixed on your injured shoulder. Slowly, he raises a hand and gently rests his palm against the front of your shoulder. “You would be too if you could see how terrible you look right now.”

If you are surprised by the single tear that rolls down your face in response, it is nothing compared to Jin’s horrified reaction as he realises what he has done. Apparently, this whole being in love thing sucks. 

“W-wait!” Jin protests, absolutely horrified. “I-I didn’t mean it like that-“

You quickly scrub at your face with your uninjured arm. You know, in theory, that Jin didn’t mean that you looked terrible as in that he thought you were ugly. And you know in theory that it is therefore stupid to cry over it. But for some reason, that’s where your mind had gone- reminding you like an ever present shadow just how misplaced you look next to him, how there’s nothing you can give him that he can’t find in a million other girls, and just how little he thinks of you. 

You’re surprised when his hand replaces yours, far gentler than you had been as he wipes the tears from your face with a careful swipe of his thumb. 

“Hey,” he calls, grabbing your chin in his hand and angling your face until you’re forced to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that you... that you...” he voice cracks and he hangs his head, dropping his hands so he can clench his fists in his lap. “It’s not fun being reminded of how close we came to losing you.” Jin finally says. He drops his hand and his shoulders slump like he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.

You don’t know this Jin. This terrified, uncertain man. He’s never once, in the entire time you’ve known him, shown this vulnerable, fragile side of himself. But you know you’re in trouble because you love this side of him too. The part of him that gets scared, that shows weakness, that can break. As much as you hate the fact that it is you who has made him like this, you are grateful that he trusts you enough to show himself, warts and all, and you feel something molten in your chest as you silently promise yourself that you’ll protect him. No matter what, you’ll keep him safe. Even if you’re not particularly smart or pretty or charming. You’re not the model-like, glamourous, genius girls he normally dates, and you never will be. You’re unemployed and clumsy and socially awkward and you’re selfish and childish on top of all that. But this is what you can offer him: your heart, as pathetic as she is, and the promise to protect him, no matter where he goes or ends up in life. 

“I know you didn’t mean it like that. I... just... It’s stupid.” You sigh at yourself before lifting your gaze to watch him. “Are you scared?” You finally question, changing the subject as the last of your tears dry. Jin frowns, nodding slightly. 

“A little.” He admits, his tone a bit dry like he’s severely understating his feelings on the matter. And you don’t know why, but something prompts you to reach forward and wrap your hand around his. Perhaps it is the slight shake he tried to hide by gripping the material of his pants so hard his knuckles go white. His hand is surprisingly much bigger than yours- you don’t know why that surprises you, but it does. 

“Don’t worry.” You reassure him. “I’ll protect you.”

The corner of his lip quirks and he shoots you an oddly fond look. It’s one you’ve seen before, although not directed at you. You’ve seen him look that way when he speaks about a particularly endearing coworker, or he recalls something silly that Namjoon has done. This is the first time you’ve been on the receiving end.

“In that state?” He questions with a raised brow. You feel yourself bristle a little defensively at the slightly patronising way he is coming across.

“Are you laughing?” You press, slightly offended. “You don’t think I can?”

“No.” Jin answers, turning to you with an odd sort of expression to his face. “I know you will. That’s the problem.” And then, in spite of himself, he offers you a full-blown smile, cheerful and happy like you’ve never really seen before. You are momentarily struck speechless, mesmerised by the sight before you. “But thank you. I’m glad, that I can count on you.” 

Something warm and eager blooms in your chest at his words. You cup your hands around his face and you admire the openness of his smile. How great would it be, if you could capture that smile in a picture and keep it forever? If you could preserve the way he’s looking at you right now, so that you always remember with clarity that even if he doesn’t love you, Jin can look at you like this. Like you are something precious and adored. This is the man you get to love. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, you’re still happy. You feel like this love is a happy thing. 

“I’m starting to think you only wanted to rest to pull the moves on her.” Jungkook announces his presence, seeming thoroughly unimpressed. He folds his arms as the air shimmers around him, signalling the dispersion of his illusory magic. “‘Let’s go see the river, Jungkook. It’ll be fun. I’ll get over my trauma.’ If you’d told me being a third wheel was in the job description, I never would have come.” Jungkook grumbles as Jin quickly pulls away. You don’t quite catch the way his ears go red and his face seems to burn where your hands had gently cradled him, but Jungkook does, and he merely rolls his eyes at the sight. “It’s time to go.” He urges. 

Jin clears his throat awkwardly, scrabbling to his feet and dusting off his trousers before extending his hand out to you. 

“C’mon.” He urges, though his tone seems gruffer than before. “Jungkook’s right. The Saishtas will find us at this rate.”

You hesitate, just a moment, before gratefully accepting his hand as he tugs you to your feet. 

Oddly, though you expect him to release your hand once you are standing, he does no such thing. Instead, he wraps his hand around yours and uses it to tug you along as the three of you once again set off. 

“It’ll be easier for you to keep up.” Is all Jin offers as explanation for why he continues to grip onto your hand as though you’re planning to flee from him the second that he releases you. You stare in confusion for a moment, trying to puzzle out Jin’s behaviour, but he provides no further insight. 

The three of you set a much more rapid pace this time, and after your brief rest, you cope much better. Jin eventually releases your hand when it becomes clear you’re gradually regaining your strength as your enhanced healing kicks in. The sun begins to draw close to the horizon and the brilliant blue above begins to deepen into a soft pink. But you realise something, as you continue your advance. 

There’s no sound of a river. Over the expansive plains, the river song should carry easily on the warm, sweet breeze. And it should be in view by now, but it’s not. Instead, what you see is a dark, jagged line slicing through the plains like a gaping wound. It’s the edge of a ravine- there’s no river in sight. 

“Something’s not right- “ you breathe, only for the breath to be knocked clean from your lungs as Jin throws his full body weight at you, unprompted. You roll a few times from the force of his tackle, before finally landing with his body crouched over you protectively. Your eyes widen in shock, glancing over to where you had stood moment before, only to see the end of an arrow lodged in the ground.

“See!” Jin croaks, hovering over you. “How hard was that? Tackle, don’t push, (Y/N)! If you’re gonna be saving people at least take that on board.” He scolds, in what is clearly the beginning of a Jant. (Jin rant)

“Now’s not the time, Jin!” Jungkook screeches. 

“I’m just saying,” Jin cries, as he scrambles off you and yanks you to your feet by your good arm. “How hard would it have been to tackle me instead of taking an arrow to the shoulder?” 

His Jant is interrupted by the dreadful sound of the Saishta hunting horn erupting from behind you. Only, this time, there is nowhere to run. Yes, you could easily outrun them, but to where? You have long left the safety of the forest where there are endless places to safely conceal yourself once you’ve outrun them. But here is only open plains, followed by a sheer cliff face. There is a bridge across the river, in the maps you’ve seen, but those maps have also told you there’s a river where there’s nothing but a deathly ravine. Still, the bridge is supposedly about a kilometre south of where you now stand, and it’s your only hope. But will you be able to run that far in this state?

The ravine hovers on the edge of your vision, out towards the west, and you can now make out the hulking forms of the Saishta mounts, as their hunting party makes its slow, arrogant prowl towards you. The mounts of Saishtas do not run- they believe that persistence will allow them to eventually capture any prey. Eventually, all targets must tire, or reach the end, and that is when the Saishta can make the kill. They seem confident that that’s the situation the three of you are in now. You could flee, but if you give away that your destination is the river (or ravine?), you’ll never be able to safely see it, for they will guard it until the end of time.

“Sssurrender!” They call, now barely a hundred metres away.

“We’ll have to fight.” You announce to your companions, who both whip their heads around to glare at you with incredulity. 

“Are you crazy?” Jungkook cries. 

You clench your teeth as you slip into a familiar stance, holding up your arms as you prepare to fight. 

“It’s our only option.” You point out, wincing as your shoulder protests at the stance you are currently in.

Jin takes one look at you and the advancing Saishtas and then he does possibly the most unexpected thing he could have done. 

He throws you over his shoulder like you are a sack of potatoes and legs it. 

“This way!” Jungkook encourages, zooming southwards towards where you know the bridge is.

“Jin!” You cry in protest, but he doesn’t respond. “Jin, stop! I was going to fight them!”

“No!” Jin snaps. “You were going to die. Or at least, you were going to try to and this time I’m not letting you.”

You stop struggling, slumping against his back. 

“Not again.” Jin promises. “You won’t get hurt again. ‘I won’t stop and think while you’re in danger.’” He tells you, echoing your earlier words to him. For some reason, it leaves you unable to retort. “Now if I set you down, will you run with me, or will you do something stupid?” 

You purse your lips in annoyance, trying to hold yourself stable as you flop around on Jin’s shoulder. You can see the Saishta making their slow, confident prowl behind you. They won’t shoot any more arrows at this proximity- after all, their aim is to capture you, not kill. 

“I’ll run.” You silently agree. Jin gives you absolutely no warning as he practically flings you back onto the ground, grabbing your hand as he tugs you on in a full-on sprint. 

“We’re almost there!” Jungkook cries, zooming slightly ahead of the two of you. Ahead, the great stone structure that comprises the great bridge that can carry you to safety on the other side of the ravine. You swallow your desperate, heaving breaths, ignoring the way your weakened body protests at the exertion. If you can just get to the bridge, there’s a forest on the other side of the river. The three of you can easily conceal yourselves there, and then come back under the cover of night and investigate why there’s a ravine here instead of a river. 

The ground firms beneath you as it transitions from soft, loamy soil to a firm, well cut stone path. An arrow whizzes just past your ear and bounces off the stone path- a warning shot from the pursuing hunting party. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as the three of you reach the edge of the bridge. The ravine is huge, and the bridge stretches ahead of you. 

And then it sounds. Another hunting horn, a sound that will probably haunt you for the remainder of your days. But this one is from the opposite side of the bridge, where you are fleeing to. 

Jin’s footsteps slow alongside yours, and Jungkook’s frantic buzzing becomes a slow, confused flutter as the three of you gradually draw the same conclusion. 

You’re trapped. There are Saishtas awaiting you on either side of the bridge. No matter which way you try to break through, you will have to fight through them. No wonder they were so confident they could catch you.

“We’ll have to fight.” You breathe, trying to slow your exhausted, rapid breathing. Jin is soaked with sweat and even Jungkook seems flushed with the exertion of your desperate sprint. 

“We can’t.” Jin reminds you, out of breath and still gripping onto your hand so hard it hurts. “You’ll die.”

“We’ll die if they capture us too!” You point out. You can now see the Saishtas on both ends of the bridge, closing in on the three of you like a pack of hunting dogs. “I’m so sorry Jin- this is all my fault! It’s not even a river- it’s some kind of ravine! I dragged us all the way here for nothing.”

“Jin!” Jungkook calls, but you ignore him, too caught up in the realisation of what you’ve done. 

“He told me nature doesn’t change but that was stupid! Of course it changes- it’s been 1000 years and I just believed like an idiot that the river would still be here.” You cry, tears flowing down your face. 

“Jin!” Jungkook calls, and this time, Jin claps free his hand over your mouth to stop your desperate monologuing. 

“What now?” Jin demands of the small pixie. The pixie in question bites his lip and looks from side to side at the Saishtas who watch you almost lazily across the length of the bridge. They have all the time in the world, after all- where can the three of you go except over the edge of the bridge, where you will surely meet your demise?

“‘The river loves those who take the plunge.’” Jungkook recites, gesturing out to the endless, gaping ravine behind you. 

You stare in confusion, but understanding dawns in Jin’s eyes as he leans over the low stone wall and stares down at the bottomless pit. He goes white and his hand tightens on your own to the point you are wincing with pain. 

“(Y/N),” Jin calls, not lifting his gaze from the ravine. “Do you trust me?” 

You blink, glancing over at the Saishtas who draw closer and closer with each moment. You’re not sure why he’s asking this now of all times, but your answer still comes easily. 

“With my life.” You answers solemnly. He glances at you, surprised by your words, before his gaze softens and he smiles weakly at you. Then, he releases your hand and slowly he lifts himself up onto the stone wall. 

“Then take the plunge.” He tells you, holding his hand out to you. 

Your eyes widen as you realise what he’s trying to do. You glance at Jungkook, who merely nods at you, and then at the Saishtas who chatter in confusion at Jin’s actions. 

And finally, you look up at Jin, into the eyes of the man you love, and you know that even if it’s crazy, you really do trust him with your life. 

He tugs you up onto the wall and pulls you close, cradling your head in the palm of one hand and wrapping his other arm around your waist to hold you close. It reminds you of when you had arrived in this realm. He’s always held you like this, you realise. Like you are something precious to him, something he could never bear to lose. 

You lift your gaze to him and meet his eyes, filled with fear, and he smiles. The Saishtas realise what is happening right as Jin takes a step backwards, off the edge of the bridge. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as the two of you plummet down into the ravine below, Jungkook in close pursuit. 

The last thing you hear before the darkness swallows you up is the desperate, furious roars of the Saishtas, thwarted once more.

++

When you come to, it is on a slightly damp, sandy surface. Jin is still unconscious next to you, with an arm thrown protectively over your waist. As you sit up, his arm slides off you, and you move away, taking in your surroundings.

You’re on a sandy riverbank- dark, inky waves lap at the surface in what is largely a calm, but dark river. 

Overhead, you can see the clear, starry sky peeking at you through the jagged crack exposed by the top of the ravine. The river before you catches small flashes of starlight, but otherwise the area is largely dark. 

That is, until a torch beam lands on you and you are nearly blinded by the sudden, intense light. 

“Ow!” You cry out, unable to see who is on the other side of the beam. 

“Sorry!” Jungkook hastily apologises, struggling to hold up the weight of your pompompurin torch. “I was looking for something.”

You rub at your eyes, which are now streaming with tears. 

“Looking for what?” You ask, when your vision is finally cleared enough to make out Jungkook’s outline in the meagre lighting. Jungkook is silent for a moment, before hoisting the torch up even though it’s larger than him and directing it at the wall. 

“This.” He says, and then he turns the light on.

You don’t know what you were expecting with Jungkook’s actions, but what you find is dozens of inscriptions along the cliff wall. Some are deeply engraved, and some are mere scratches, but they all seem to have different messages. 

“What... what is all this?” You question in wonder. 

“Messages.” Jungkook answers. He turns to look at you, dropping the torch into your hand so that you can freely exam the numerous inscriptions. “That’s what people come to the river of stars to do. To leave a message that will last through all of time.”

You blink and turn to look at the river behind you. It just looks like a normal river, albeit at the bottom of a ravine. But there’s no glowing plants, and if you hadn’t just plummeted off the edge of a bridge, you wouldn’t even know there was a river. 

“This... isn’t what I expected, when I pictured this place.” You finally say. “How did we survive that fall, Jungkook?” 

When you turn to look at Jungkook, he is gazing out across the river with an almost forlorn look upon his face. 

“Well, you’ve probably guessed this isn’t a normal river.” Jungkook says. “It’s actually got special magical properties- that’s how those glowing plants are able to grow here. And how you were able to survive the fall- this place is so filled with magic that amazing things can happen, like people plummeting hundreds of feet and surviving the fall, or beautiful, rare plants growing. Or rare mythical creatures being born.”

Jungkook turns to you and fans his arms out on either side of him, gesturing at the space around him. 

“I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time. This river has another name, (Y/N).” He tells you. “It’s known as Gebulfen, the birthplace of the pixie. This is where I was born.” 

“Where you were born?” Jin groans, sitting up and rubbing at his forehead. Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the guardian in question. 

“Is there an echo here? Why are you repeating what I just said?” He pouts. But he zooms over to Jin and lands on his outstretched knee. “Good work though. I wasn’t sure you’d work out what I meant when I told you that old saying, but you did!”

“You could have just said it outright.” Jin grumbles, hoisting himself to his feet. His gaze briefly flickers over you, assessing for injuries. 

“Then the Saishtas would have worked out we were planning to jump.” Jungkook shrugged. “The only reason we had as much time as we did was because they thought we had nowhere to go.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that.” Jin grumbles, lifting his gaze to where you can just make out the outline of the great stone bridge you had plummeted from. “I guess they probably think we are dead now. Maybe it’ll be easier to get home.”

Home... that’s the next step of the journey for you. Jin’s words trigger the revelation for you- you’ve reached the end of your journey. You’ve finally made it to the River of Stars, like you’ve dreamed about for so many years. You stare in bewilderment across the smooth, dark surface of the river, taking in the soft sounds of the rushing water. 

Gebulfen... the pixie birthplace. You had never heard that name before, nor had Jungkook ever chosen to share any information with you about his life in this realm. 

“Are you disappointed?” The pixie in question asks, hovering close to your ear so that the rush of air from his wings tickles your ear. He flutters around to face you, before leaning in close and smiling. He hovers in the space between your eyes so that you have to go cross-eyed to focus on him. “That there’s no lights?”

“Ayla said there wouldn’t be.” Jin says, coming up to stand level with you. “I didn’t want to believe her, but it looks like-“

“Not so fast,” Jungkook hastily corrects Jin, fluttering forward to hold his tiny hands over Jin’s mouth so that he can’t talk anymore. “Ayla was incorrect. I can’t blame her, because it’s been over a thousand years since anyone has remembered the truth of this river. The lights do exist. But the plants only light up in response to a special kind of magic.” 

“What magic?” You ask, unable to hold back your curiosity. You had come all this way to see the river lights, after all. Jungkook smiles, releasing Jin so that he can flutter up to you. 

“I’ve always known you didn’t listen in your tutoring classes as a child because you didn’t know how I was born.” He tells you, instead of telling you what magic needs to be performed to see the lights. “Pixies are born of wishes, and they come to life at this very river. And our purpose... is to see the wish that birthed us come through.” 

“What does that have to do with the river ligh-“ you protest but Jungkook cuts you off. 

“Hush. I’m getting there. That’s what the plants respond to. Pixie magic.” He finishes his explanation. “Not my silly illusory spells, but real, ancient, powerful pixie magic.”

“So, to see the lights, and for (Y/N) to be able to go home, we... we have to grant whatever wish you were born to fulfill?” Jin asks, having always been a bit quicker than you to put things together. Jungkook nods, shooting two finger guns at the two of you playfully. 

“Bingo!” Jungkook cries cheerfully. “You’re smarter than you look! Perhaps there’s use for you yet.”

An odd feeling fills you at Jungkook’s words, however. You’ve known the pixie for a long time. Despite his best efforts to appear constantly unbothered and joking, there’s a lot that Jungkook hides behind a smile. Like his longing to be human... his loneliness... the fact that there are hopes and dreams he’s always longed to fulfil but knows he never can. Jungkook has always hidden behind a smile and right now he’s hiding again. 

“What... what are you hiding?” You ask. Jungkook looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before he quickly conceals the expression. 

“Shouldn’t you ask me what wish I need to grant? So that you can see the lights?” He points out. You shake your head, stepping in close, but Jungkook moves backwards, out of reach. His posture is now defensive, and you know, more certainly than ever, that Jungkook is hiding something. Why else would he not have mentioned the wish he was born to fulfil, in thirteen years of knowing you? Why is he only telling you the truth of Gebulfen now, after an entire journey travelling to see it? 

“Jungkook...” you say softly, your voice barely audible above the rush of the river. He deflates at the soft, concerned tone of your voice. You hold your hands out to them, and he lands in them. 

“I’ve always been really happy being with you, (Y/N).” Jungkook says, as you raise him so that he is eye level with you. He stretches out a hand and rests it against the tip of your nose. “With you, Taehyung... with your mother... even with that big oaf and his family over there. It’s been really fun. Even if I had to live in the human realm, I’ve always had friends. And I know you guys care a lot about me. So... I was never brave enough to bring up my wish. I wanted to stay with you guys, and to keep having fun. To keep learning to dance off YouTube, and to keep bringing your houseplants to life when they died... I liked stealing the cookies from your upstairs neighbour when she left the room and I liked swapping Jin’s shoes around before he left for work in the morning-“

“I knew that was you, you little twerp-“ Jin cries in outrage, but you silence him with a glare before turning your attention back to Jungkook. For some reason, he suddenly seems small and fragile in your hands in a way he never really has before. 

“I knew... a part of me was always afraid that when I granted my wish, it would be goodbye.” He confesses, and for the first time in his entire life, a tear trickles down Jungkook’s face. You can only stare in bewilderment, barely processing his words. 

“Goodbye?” You echo. Jungkook nods, with a teary smile. 

“I don’t know what happens, to a pixie who has granted a wish. I’ve tried to research it- I’ve had Taehyung bring me back books from this realm, and I’ve studied the history. But in the entire history of this realm, of my race... there’s no mention of what happens to us after. There’s no pixie settlements or communities. There’s no monuments to our names... there’s nothing. It’s like we... it’s like we vanish.” He confesses, and the tears are coming full force. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I should have granted this wish years ago but I was scared that I-“

“You might die?” You fill in for him. Jungkook hesitates for a moment before nodding. 

“I don’t know.” He says. “There’s no pixie manual. I just know that I have to grant the wish and then-“

“Screw the wish!” You cry, cutting him off. Jungkook’s eyes widen. 

“What?” He asks. You release him, stepping back and gazing around the ravine. 

“Screw the wish.” You repeat, now searching for an echo. “Why risk your life? Why would I want you to risk your life? If you don’t know what happens if you grant the wish, then we’ll just never grant the wish and you’ll be fine-“

“(Y/N),” Jungkook calls sternly, zooming so that he’s in front of you. “I have to grant the wish.” 

“Why?” You cry, and you realise there are tears sliding down your face. Jin watches the whole exchange in silence. “Why do you have to grant the risk? Why do we have to risk you vanishing? Why would you go that far over a stupid river?” 

Jungkook smiles gently, reaching up one arm to wipe away the fat tears that spill down your face- it soaks the entire arm of his jacket. 

“It was your father’s wish.” He tells you gently, still smiling the whole time. 

You feel like the world around you freezes. Like for a moment, you heart stops beating and the world stops turning. You stare, frozen in shock, as Jungkook continues. 

“He came here when you were first born. It’s a tradition for the Qu’var to journey to this river when they want to leave a message that will withstand the test of time. The river, and the unique magic that flows here, will protect it. But anyone who comes here has the river magic in them. And when those people make an earnest wish, from the bottom of their heart, then a pixie is born in this river. And your father, in his dying moments, many, many years after coming here, wished with all his heart that he could have shown you this place. That he could have shown you the message he wrote to his baby daughter. And that’s how I was born.” 

“It’s not fair.” You sob, crying in full now. Jin is silent- he chooses not to step in. This isn’t about him, after all. “Why did he have to do that? Why could he have just lived and shown me himself? Why do I have to lose you too? Why can’t we just never see the message and then you can stay?”

“Because of the spell.” Jungkook reminds you. “You can’t go home until you see the dancing lights because of the charm I put on you. Do you remember?”

More tears spill down your face as you remember the spell in question. You had thought at the time, that it was Jungkook just trying to force you to get over yourself. You had believed him when he said he’d cast it so that you couldn’t chicken out of something you wanted to do. But you realise now why he cast that spell- it was so that he couldn’t chicken out. So that, no matter what, he’d grant his wish and get you to see that message. 

“We’ll stay here. Jin can tell my mum what happened, and we can live out the rest of our days here!” You plead, desperate. “Then you don’t have to-“ 

“(Y/N).” Jungkook comes in close and presses on your cheek, until you are facing the cliff wall with all the inscriptions on it. Then he flutters over to the discarded torch, heaving it up in his arms with a huff, and holding it out to you. “It’s ok. It’s really ok. I want this. I’ve had my fun with you guys, but it’s not like I’ve really been living a proper life like this. The only people I can talk to are guardians, and they’re so scattered across the human realm. I spend my days watching YouTube videos and talking to moths and waiting for you guys to come home from work. I’ve lived this life as much as I can, but now it’s your turn. I want you to live a full and happy life, and for you to have a family and grow old in the human realm. I don’t want you to be trapped here with me so that I can live half a life for the rest of your days.”

“But,” you protest tearily. “You’re my best friend.” 

“And you’re mine.” Jungkook says with a beam. “But now it’s time.” 

And then he pushes your arm until the torch lands on an inscription with handwriting you thought you’d never see again. 

Your father, even back then, even on stone, has always had beautiful writing, like he could have been a calligrapher if he had the time or resources. Perhaps that’s why he wanted to leave you a written message. You step forward in disbelief until you can read the inscription, the words of the man you’ve missed so much. 

(Y/N), 

My precious, beautiful daughter. 

Your mother didn’t want me to make this journey, but she eventually gave in because she knew how important it was to me. 

I wonder what kind of situation we’ll read these words together in? What kind of woman will you grow up to be? Will you be married with children when I finally take you here? That little Seokjin is only a toddler but he’s already charming all the ladies in the village- maybe you’ll marry him! Or I hear Jihye is pregnant. Perhaps her child? 

But the reason I wrote this is because I want you to know that no matter what happens, or what roads we walk down in the future, that I will love you and protect you with all of my heart. You are the most beautiful and precious thing I have ever laid my eyes on, and I hope you will always know that. 

I love you. I hope that one day, even if it’s without me, that you get to see these words and know, that from before you were born, I have loved you. 

Please, please, whatever situation you read these words in, please be happy.

From your father. 

The inscription is rough beneath your fingers as you smooth your fingers over it. It hurts to see those words, to know the moments you can never have with your father because he’s gone. And you’ll never get him back. There’s no magic spells or special river or pixie magic that can bring him back to you. 

But, for the first time, you find yourself smiling. Those memories don’t have to be painful. Because you fulfilled his wish- you’re happy. As you read these words, despite everything, you are happy. You have friends and family who love you and who you treasure beyond belief. And it took you a long time to realise it, but you’re so grateful. You’ll never get your father back, and you’ll never fill the hole that he left, but you can be happy. You can move forward with a smile on your face because that’s what he wanted.

Strong fingers wrap around your outstretched hand, and you turn to find Jin reading the words alongside you. 

“He was a good man.” Jin tells you softly, and you smile at him. Jin looks like he has more to say, but he is interrupted by the brilliant glow coming from behind you. 

You turn around and find Jungkook hovering before you. He glows brightly amidst the darkness of the ravine, almost as brightly as the stars overhead. And slowly, the river reacts too. One by one, bursts of light in different, brilliant colours appear and race down the length of the river, like bright, shooting stars. “The dancing river”, one of its many names, suddenly makes sense, as the lights zip and glide along the surface of the water. 

“You did it!” Jungkook cries, and his smile is brighter than anything you’ve ever seen. You scramble forward, but the glow intensifies, and a brilliant light wall springs up between you and Jungkook. 

“No!” You cry. “Please! Don’t go, Jungkook. We still have so much to do together! Please!”

“Be happy, (Y/N).” He calls and then the light brightens until you can see nothing but pure white. 

And then it goes dark. In the absence of light, you can’t see anything before you. Jungkook is gone- he’s gone. Your best friend, your constant, pesky companion, is gone. 

You fall to your knees, sinking into the soft, damp sand, sobbing hysterically. 

“Jungkook.” You cry, your eyes squeezed shut. “Jungkook!”

Your friendship with Jungkook has always been a funny one. You first met him in the dingy room of a motel your mother had managed to book into, those first few nights in the human realm. You hadn’t been able to sleep- the air was uncomfortable and dry and felt leeched of the warm, buzzing magic that had been your constant companion.

You’d snuck out of the room that night and wondered onto the rooftop. Even the stars are dull, in the human realm, and for some reason it had hurt to see that. You’d gazed up into the sky, tear streaming down your face when a voice had sounded beside you.

“What are you looking at?” The little voice had asked.

The rest is history. You’d attempt to swat Jungkook, thinking him to be a mosquito hybrid, one of the weird creatures of this new realm. But he hadn’t been. He was a pixie. And from there, Jungkook had never really left your side. At night, he would sleep on your pillow beside you. When you’d gotten your own room, you’d made a little doll house for him to sleep in, but he’d always slept by your side. He would come with you to school, nestled in your pocket. Some days he’d take some space, but it had reached the point where you can barely remember spending time without him.

And now… could he really be gone? How can he? What does life even look like without him? You can’t fathom it.

You don’t know how long you sit there crying hysterically for, but eventually you feel warm, strong arms wrap around you. It must be Jin, comforting you through the pain of losing your best friend. You bring your fingers up to grip at the material of his shirt.

“(Y/N)!” Jin cries in alarm. But it’s not coming from the proximity you’d expect, considering that he’s currently holding you. No, his voice is coming from somewhere behind you. 

Slowly, you blink your eyes open, and the sleeves of the jacket are not the sleeves of Jin’s jacket. Nor do the arms holding you belong to him. Slowly, you trace the arms up to the shoulders, and then you meet the face of the person holding you. 

It’s Jungkook. But at the same time... it’s not Jungkook. Jungkook was a tiny pixie, with iridescent wings like a dragonfly. With a tiny, round face. He was the size of your hand. 

But the person who holds you is human. There are no pixie wings in sight, and he’s the same size as you- no, he’s even bigger. He rivals Jin’s size. 

But the face is unmistakeably Jungkook. You’d know those round, doe eyes anywhere. 

“J-Jungkook?” You question softly. He pulls away and nods, staring at his palms in confusion like he’s never seen them before. “W-what happened?” 

“I... I don’t know.” He answers, running his hands over himself. He’s wearing the same clothes as before, and he looks exactly the same as he always has, just... human sized. 

“I... I’m human?” 

“It must be the effect of granting the spell.” Jin calls, edging closer so that he can examine Jungkook with wonder. “Maybe... maybe the reason there’s no record of any pixies after they grant the wishes... is because they stop being pixies?”

Jungkook can only stare in confusion. 

“Isn’t your dearest wish to be human? To be able to talk to people and make friends and form human bonds?” Jin continues to reflect. “Maybe... maybe the outcome of a pixie granting a wish... is that they get their deepest wish granted?”

Jungkook just stares with a bewildered expression, glancing over his shoulders for wings that aren’t there. He then scrambles over to the edge of the river, staring in wonder at the human reflection that stares back, from the normal, rounded ear tips to the lack of wings. 

“I’m human?” He questions. Tears fill your eyes as you realise that what Jin is saying is true. 

“You’re human!” You agree. “Jungkook! You’re human!” 

His whole face lights up in excitement. 

“I’m human! Oh my goodness! I’m human! I can go to dance classes! I can study in college! I can get a job! I can... I can...” his expression darkens with mischief and that’s the only warning you get before he hooks an arm around your neck and gives you the most painful noogie of your life. “I can get my revenge.”

Needless to say, the aftermath of such a transformation is absolutely chaotic, but somehow, you can’t bring yourself to be mad. Jungkook goes after Jin next, and as Jin flees for his life, you find yourself smiling, despite everything. 

Please be happy, is what your father had pleaded, in the magic of this mystical river. 

I am, dad. Is what you answer from the bottom of your heart in the magic of the river. 

Because you are.