#I'm still not over the fact that she was the one who crafted his weapon ;;;;;;;

[malusrecord]

[u10como]

Prince Isaac was nervous.

He fully supported the peace treaty with the Elven kingdom and knew it was needed, but he wasn't thrilled about being used as his father's bargaining chip. The war was now reaching its 800th year, which meant even the elves went through several generations since it started any nobody really remembered the true reason - elves blamed humans, humans blamed elves - the usual. But nobody can wage a war forever - if not for economic reasons then for the sheer fact it starts to seem meaningless after several decades of largely no progress in either of the side's favor.

King Langdon III, Isaac's father, decided to make his name in the annals of his kingdom as the great peacemaker. He could drive the final blow to the elven kingdom if he decided so - after all, during the rules of Kings Horatio I, Langdon II and especially Tiberius V, Isaac's grandfather and Langdon III's father, the humans made several great breakthroughs in technology, which allowed them to take the upper hand over the elves - firearms exceeding the range of elven bows, steam powered siege engines impervious to any weapon crafted by elven smiths, even flying machines, soaring far above the reach of best elven archers. But King Langdon III felt his people were growing tired of the contstant state of war and suspected the elves might feel the same. Actually, he knew if he was in the place of Auberon IV, the king of elves, he would beg for a peace treaty long ago - but he also knew the elves were too proud, perhaps even foolhardy to accept one-sided defeat. Thus, king Langdon III offered a mutual peace treaty between the kingdoms, which, to prince Isaac's annoyance, pivoted around royal wedding between human prince and elven princess.

Prince Isaac however felt like he isn't prepared to get married, even less so for complete stranger He knew elven women were considered very beautiful, but none of the elven women he ever saw before was up to his tastes. Not only were they usually much taller than him, but prince Isaac had sort of peculiar taste when it came to women. He never admitted that, because he felt ashamed of it but he was really attracted to women missing limbs. But from what he knew, elves were always perfect. He remembered hearing a tale of Elven warrior who survived being banished to deep woods centuries ago and lived with human lumberjack, but nobody ever saw living, breathing elf with missing limbs ever since - even in the face of total annihilation, the elves kep their bigoted views and their permanently injured soldiers were still sacrificed to keep up the aura of their race's flawless perfection. No - he was destined to marry not for love, but for politics. What does it matter if she was a woman of race which appeared physically perfect in everyone else's eyes: To him, that argument was hollow. Yet, being a gentleman, he still felt the need to introduce himself - she was their honored guest and, if everything goes according to plan, they were going to spend the rest of their lives with one another, so getting to know her can't hurt.

Knocking at the elven princess' chamber door, he heard her answer in weak, timid, yet melodic voice: "C... come in!" As he opened the door, prince Isaac was thoroughly surprised by the appearance of his future wife: She was beautiful, yet not in the expectable elven manner: She was slightly shorter than him, with beautifully rounded hips completely unlike any elf he ever saw before. She had jet black hair and shy expression of a trapped doe, trying to avoid eye contact with him. "Greetings, i'm prince Isaac, your... ahem... future husband? pleased to meet you..." he approached her with outstretched hand." "Oh... Hello, my Lord... i'm Delia... she replied, turning her eyes to him. As she saw his hand, a panic appeared briefly in her eyes before she timidly rose her right foot and took Isaac's hand in it. At thet moment Isaac noticed - Delia had no arms - her outfit should have made that detail apparent, but Isaac never expected elven princess to lack any appendage, let alone both arms at her shoulders. Gently squeezing her foot, he kissed her ankle to Delia's surprise. "I'm sorry, my Lord i am... This..." she said... "My father thought he will get rid of the family shame i am and be free to marry off my beautiful sisters to the counts of elven colonies across the sea, but if you send me back i'm sure you can negotiate an exchange for one of them..." "No!" said Isaac perhaps too sharply, startling Delila. "How could i do that? You're our honored guest, and if your family doesn't treat you well it's even more so our duty to keep you safe with us!" "But my father treats me well! He loves me! He kept me alive in secret despite the fact i was born... damaged - is there a greater sign of love?" "Delia... you are not damaged. To me, you are more beautiful than any woman i ever saw - human or elven. I would never return you back - even less so now that i know how you were treated - Yes, you might consider it a kindness on your father's part and i've no doubt he genuinely thought so too, but even so, sending you back to this life would be cruel. Here, you can be free - go wherever you want, meet whoever you wish, not hidden out of sight because of some preposterous superiority complex your father refuses to let go of." "You... you want to marry me, then, my Lord?" "Please, drop the lord, Delia, i'm Isaac." "So you want to marry me... Isaac?" "I always imagined i would marry for love, not for political machinations. But that's something you and i can work on together, but only if you want to marry me, Delia?." "I would love to, Isaac!"

[wealmostaneckbeard]

Critical Role Plays Lancer (hypothetical)

What if the core cast of Critical Role played the table top Mecha role playing game Lancer? Here are the CR cast members paired with the most entertaining mechs for their style of play:

Travis Willingham in a HORUS Balor

In the major D&D campaigns Travis has shown a preference for melee combatants who engage with dark unsavory powers. The Balor is a huge mech that eats other mechs using nanite swarms. Those same nanites probably contain the consciousness of freedom fighters-turned-terrorists-turned-into-a-hive mind. It's a perfect match! If the Balor is equipped with an A.I. called a Non-Human Person then there is a possibility that Travis's pilot-character could get eaten by his own mech!

Laura Bailey in a Harrison Armory Barbarossa

Laura apparently likes long-range damage dealers and typically those are very delicate and agile characters. It would be intriguing to see how she'd handle the Barbarossa. The Barbarossa is a tanky behemoth armed with the APOCALYPSE RAIL, an anti-warship weapon that requires the user to stay still in order to charge. It would be very interesting to see if the pilot that Laura creates would fire into a melee scrum and potentially kill her allies to achieve victory. She could play around with the anxiety her pilot would experience while screaming "Get Clear of the Blast! Firing!" Or she could role play as someone totally ruthless who justifies friendly fire with the fact that dead pilots can be flash-cloned and mechs can be salvaged.

Marisha Ray in an IPS-N Tortuga

Marisha Ray is from Kentucky. The Tortuga has Shotguns. The synergy is naturally there, you guys. Joking aside, the Tortuga would give Marisha a lot of role flexibility, she'd be able to defend her friends from enemy advance or she could push into the fray headfirst. If her pilot is tech-savvy, she could even engage in some cyberwarfare which the Tortuga is kind-of good at. Plus the Tortuga comes with a really boring A.I. that could act as the straight man for whatever jokes Marisha's character would come up with.

Talesin Jaffey in an SSC Mourning Cloak

Mr. Jaffey would probably go with a homebrewed mech if given the choice. Since I cannot imagine the Eldritch Mechanism he would craft, I am forced to prescribe him a Mourning Cloak. It is one of the few mechs capable of teleporting, which it doesn't do very precisely. There is a slight chance that Talesin might roll poorly while determining teleport distance, causing his pilot and mech to go... someplace else... and only reappear after the scene is over. He and the game master could have a lot of fun with that.

Liam O'Brien in a HORUS Goblin (warning: robo-codpiece, or maybe you like that kind of thing, IDK)

In tactical table top action, Liam shows a propensity for complexity. And nothing is more complex than the little Goblin which contains more electronics within it than is physically possible. The Goblin can hack allies to make their systems better, hack enemy systems to make them much worse, and even hack reality to make Things happen. Liam could reprise some of his favorite shticks like "I'm just a little guy, give me uppies," and "This goblin is named Nott and is my best friend."

Ashley Johnson in a Harrison Armory Genghis

In the first two major D&D campaigns Ashley played melee damage dealers and then branched out into a wildfire druid in the third. So a striker type mech that plays with fire would be consistent with her previous choices. Enter the Genghis, the carefree pyromaniacs choice of mechanized chassis. The mech builds up heat from weapons like it's Krakatoa flamethrower or a GMS Thermal Lance and then releases it in a blistering-blinding heat cloud. Incendiary damage continues burning victims until they douse themselves so Ashley can just set and forget. Finally I'd love to see what kind of pilot Ashley would come up with who would use a mech that's just as terrifying as the Balor.

Sam Riegel in an SSC Swallowtail (oh gods... please excuse the terrible mspaint job... hopefully this looks funny in a good way)

In D&D, Sam seems to like playing as unconventional back-line characters. He's been a tricky bard, a sneaky goblin/halfling rogue, and most recently a literal healbot with rage issues. So I think the Swallowtail would be a good fit for him. It's less of a mech and more of a high quality holographic movie studio on legs. It can make simulated stunt doubles of allies, use it's cameras to focus in such excruciating detail that invisible subjects are revealed, and even turn itself and everyone nearby invisible so they don't mess up the film shoot. Sam's pilot character could be some kind of propagandist or movie set manager who is infuriated by how messy actual warfare is.

Finally, Last but not least:

Mathew Mercer in an IPS-N Lancaster

I would be automatically fascinated by Mr. Mercer's interpretation of galactic human society in the year 5016u and the journey he would take his players on. But if he was a player then it would be interesting to see him controlling a Lancaster, the apex of mobile field repair platforms. Anything bad that can happen to a mech (damage, burning, hacked, immobilized) can be undone by the reliable Lancaster and it's limited pool of resources. I'm confident Mercer would be able to manage those resources wisely although it would be funny if he didn't. Role playing as his pilot, we'd get to see Matt do his best futuristic tow truck operator impression, which I think would be a very gratifying experience.

[marzghost]

Guys guys I haven't seen anyone talk about this yet but like hear me out. We all know about The crafting dead series scar did right and how some of us like to headcanon that that was c!scar's og world sometimes. Now now zombiecleo has been a part of hermitcraft since season 2 and scar doesn't join hermitcraft until season 4 now some of you might already know where I'm going with this but like imagine just imagine how THAT meeting went. Scar after years of living in a world where zombies are constantly attacking you where if you let your guard down for a moment you might just find yourself at the mercy of a hoard who after years of fighting simply gave up the fight not knowing what would happen next or if this would be it only to be waking up in a world where he's not the only one left where he is welcomed with open arms and slowly learning to let his guard down. Finally allowing himself the feeling of being a part of a family again. A place where he lets himself feel again only to then get invited to another world one where his brothers are also welcomed and excited to explore. He sees just how excited the others are to experience this and not wanting to be alone again he follows. He's shocked at the amount of people who stand waiting for them when they arrive and at first he's absolutely taken by this new larger community but that's when he sees it, he sees her. Suddenly he's breathing starts to quicken and his eyes are looking around for anything he could use as a weapon but he doesn't see anything. Cub is the first to notice his change soon followed by Iskall, Ren, and Wels. His brothers are asking if he's ok but they just sound like they're underwater and far away. He can feel their dead hands pulling at his clothes again. Clawing at his flesh looking for their next meal. She gets closer and he snaps. Cub finally understands why he felt stronger whenever scar was around and in that moment he and Iskall wrap their arms around the 3/4th vex hybrid making sure to hold him back from the others as he yells, begs, screams for someone to stay back and for everyone to run. Seeing as Scar wasn't going to calm down on his own Cub activates his own vex abilities and puts scar to sleep. Maybe the reason he wasn't at the meeting where everyone is being introduced is because he was still trying to calm down. Trying to accept that Zombiecleo isn't a threat that she isn't going to try and kill the family he had found for himself. Heck maybe he was trying to get over the fact that Cleo seemed to be like any other living person. Had he waited just a bit more would the flesh eating monsters that had at one point been people just like him evolved to be sane again? Could there have been a cure this whole time? Had he killed his own mother for nothing... Could she have been saved...could she have been a zombie like Cleo if he had let her change completely instead of pointing the gun at her the moment she had told him to pull the trigger. The angst potential is through the roof people! We need more.

[ca-8]

Hi hi I hope your doing well after all that and I'm glad your back! And thanks to you I'm sorta obsessed with fusionfall!!

Would it be okay if I could get Dexter with a s/o who's from another dimension? Like they love to dimension hop and time hop.

They have this special pocket watch that allows them to take them and a number of people to different dimensions and timelines.

Another cool thing is they can use that pocket watch as a weapon ÙwÚ

Thanks in advance!

Aww, thank you so much! This means so much more than you think <3 And of course!~

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✫☼ 𝝙𝝚𝝬𝝩𝝚Ɍ 𝝬 𝝞𝝢𝝩𝝚Ɍ𝝙𝝞𝝡𝝚𝝢S𝝞𝝤𝝢𝝖Ⳑ 𝝩Ɍ𝝖ꓴ𝝚Ⳑ𝝚Ɍ!Ɍ𝝚𝝖𝝙𝝚Ɍ (𝝜𝝚𝝖𝝙𝗖𝝖𝝢𝝤𝝢S) ☼✫ (Part 1(?))

If there's one thing to say, it's that Dexter was fascinated by (Y/n) when they first met. He was practically glued to their side once they heard of their power: all the non-stop questions, then the non-stop follow-up questions, and the close up study of their interdimensional bracelet passed down by the Gods of Space and Time--it's safe to say that they grew close very quickly.

But soon, it became more than a fascination. Dexter didn't know how or even the second it had happened, it just did! It went from wanting to hear stories about worlds outside his own to needing to hear that beautiful voice as it weaves through (Y/n)'s poetic words. Taking a glimpse of them as they walked through the hallways with the most adorable curious look on their face suddenly turned into him showing them their latest invention the second their eyes would meet.

And yes, it's that curiosity, it's akin to his own. The way their eyes lit up at the sight of his outstanding craft makes him feel as though heaven rained down miracles upon him. So much so that it made it to the very top of his priority list whenever he gets his hands on his wrench. Now that the war with Fuse is over, he has all the time in the world to build to his heart's content--especially if it's for someone as spectacular as (Y/n).

Now, (Y/n) never stays in one place for a long period of time. In fact, it felt like they left as soon as they came. But the second their hypnotic gaze locked eyes with his as they said they will come back, hope sparked inside him, igniting an everlasting beating heart. That's why as soon as they left, he went right back in his lab to get to work.

Sometimes, he spends hours upon hours just to get something done just right. Not a screw loose or an exterior discolored, not too loud, not too dull--if there's more he could add or fix, by Genndy, he will do it!

Of course, Dexter has a tendency to overdo his passion projects. It's too long before his assistants have noticed he's been stumbling over more than usual and have passed out in exhaustion during important meetings (even the robots comment on the bags under his eyes when he has his back turned). Despite Computress' efforts on getting him to rest, he still keeps going. No matter who tries to persuade him--Ben, Blossom, Bubbles, DeeDee (although, admittedly, she wasn't much help to begin with), Frankie, Kevin, Gwen--he would not stop so long as he had the chance to be the one who sees that gorgeous smile. Not even when Buttercup chained him onto his own bed! (He foresaw the event and built an emergency escape slide)

Ironically, he was working so hard that he didn't even notice that (Y/n) had come back. And the news didn't take long to hit them either. They were furious! He just went through a war and he's working himself to death for no reason?? (Nobody told them that they were the reason why he was putting his health at risk...they didn't want to ruin the surprise <3)

So, in a fit of rage, (Y/n) marched right down to his lab and pulled him right from his desk. First, he was stunned; he thought he was hallucinating and seeing an angel dancing around him, when it was just his now long-time crush flaying their arms around as they scold him like an angry parent. Once reality had settled in, Dexter tries to tell them that he wanted to surprise them, before completely passing out from exhaustion: "Because who wouldn't want to see th-that...cute...smile...a-again-"

He passes out in their arms

A few hours later, Dexter wakes up to see (Y/n) holding him in his room, and ac the cool, composed man of science he is, he freaks out until he tumbles off the bed and collapses onto the floor. He stutters out questions, face completely covered in blush while his glasses fog up

But (Y/n), on the other hand, only giggles and walks toward him. Before he knows it, she plants a kiss on his lips. "Computress kinda...told me everything, after you passed out.

"So...I presume you...feel the same?"

"...I always have." They stand up, putting their hands on their hips. "BUT! If we're going to be together in A-NY sort of way, you have to promise to take care of yourself. No more pulling all-nighters, Mister...whatever-your-last-name-is!!"

Dexter stays still, stunned. Then, he smiles. "Deal. ...Thank you, (Y/n)."

They sit back now and let him lean into their shoulder. "Of course, you dummy." They admire the sight as he slowly falls back to sleep.

That's how the two officially came to be, and they've been almost inseparable ever since. (Y/n) decided that they wanted him to come along with them as they explore every dimension imaginable. Dexter couldn't contain his excitement and practically packed his entire lab. He even made their own "DimenShip" (A space ship designed for interdimensional travel; built to withstand every environment, atmosphere, and ecosystem that may or may not exist. It even comes with an old-school VHS player! He loves those, and (Y/n) thinks it's adorable)

(Y/n) always loves to see him wake up filled with excitement. He has new requests on where to go to every day, whether it's the past or another dimension made up entirely of computers and technology! (There was, and it's safe to say that they've lived there for a while...)

Occasionally, they'd stop to sniff the roses. If Dexter spotted a place that's perfect for a romantic moment, he'd practically lock them in the DimenShip as he sets up a nice little dinner between the two. Once (Y/n) gets mad enough to break the door down with their magical pocket watch (which not only lets them travel through space and time and glow a cool (f/c) color, but can also turn into a giant spiked ball whenever they want it to), they see nothing but a date from a cheesy romantic movie... A picnic with a display of their favorite food and sweets on top of a picnic blanket with two suns setting in the background of a black and white sky... two candles side-by-side of the picnic basket underneath the pink and lavender curling tree...and Dexter, with his hands folded behind his back as he has that stupid, lovable snarky smile on his face.

The first thing they'd do is pout at him, then run at him and tackle him onto the ground. They cover his stupid laughing face with kisses as they complain about him locking them in the DimenShip when he could just tell them to cover their eyes or look the other way.

"Then I wouldn't get this special treatment, mon amour~"

"Oh will you SHUT UP YOU FREAKIN'- ROMANTIC BASTARD-"

They'd laugh as they roll across the glowing grass, and he'd finally stop them as he presses his lips onto theirs. They'd press their foreheads together as their fingers intertwine, and when he finally leans back... "I love you, bunny."

And (Y/n) would smile, taking one of his hands and taking off the glove. As they caress the scars, they whisper, "I love you too, dummy."

(He'd call you bunny because of the whole "dimension hop" thing, hAH-!)

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I had a lot of fun making this, actually... It was a little intimidating to do because of what just happened recently, but I actually really liked making this. So.. thank you for requesting this. I can't say that a part two is guaranteed but MAYBE!! if I have an idea, I will definitely post a part 2!! And if there are any questions/requests ;3

........This man is my weakness I want a Dex so bad-

[dragonsongmakhali]

Find the words

Tagged by: @sasslett (thank you! :D)

The basic pitch of this tag is to go through your writing for your character and find a set of words given by the tagger. My words were weapon, star, skin and smirk!

I'm not sure who hasn't been tagged to do this, seeing as this is about a week late, but if you want to (yes! you! reading this! even if you've done it already go wild), go ahead and find shade, scar, tread, and tomorrow.

It's time to go to my Wildly Disorganized Notepad++ Document and do some Finds! Kinda long, so I put it beneath a cut :>

[[WEAPON]]:

She shook her head to break out of her reverie. U'lani really needed to stop requiring her attendance at these meetings on her contracts. The woman who makes a good ruin delver doesn't always make an attentive audience member - Makhali was living proof of that.

"-additionally, the forward facing cannons can deliver enough force to pierce 5 fulms of pure Garlean steel, and can be reloaded in less than 3 minutes - provided you've also installed our automatic reload system," the Mi'qote winked and turned back to the complicated diagram she had pinned to the board. Her voice faded into a low static of large, complex words that must have meant something to the numerous investors who had joined the meeting, based on the way they were salivating. Makhali stifled a yawn.

How U'lani found a way to make a presentation on weapons so complicated she would never understand. How hard could it really be to destroy something? She did it all the time, and it didn't require a two hour long treatise on complex mechanics.

[[STAR]]:

It was only supposed to be a short trip to the Steppe. He had leapt at the chance to go when Eli'sae announced that they needed a representative from Astral Acquisitions to accompany the illustrious face of Ultima Fabrications on a fact-finding mission regarding the House of the Crooked Coin, but as he gripped the side of a nearly vertical cliff with white knuckles, he questioned his earlier enthusiasm. As attractive as this woman was, surely she was insane.

"Keep up!" The diminuitive Khatayin had looked back over her shoulder, a competitive grin etched onto her features. He was mostly sure it was a friendly sort of competition, though he could never be entirely certain with the Source's 'Xaela' - it seemed that every single one of them he came across would rather fight than cooperate. With a shaky hand, he pulled himself to the nearest ledge that he could fit on, and made the wise decision not to look down.

"Climbing was never one of my strong points," he shouted back, watching as his guide effortlessly scrambled up the cliff face 10 yalms above him and disappeared over the edge. "I was always more of a researcher." Makhali peeked down at him over her perch, still with that incessant smirk she always wore.

"Come now, Dotharl. That means you can learn!" Khasan heaved a sigh, more dramatic than actually upset. He watched as she casually rolled over so that she was facing the night sky, seemingly not at all alarmed by her precarious positioning. "Everyone knows the stars look better from up here - even your tribe."

"His" tribe. Were it that simple. It had taken him days to not gawk at the darkness every time the sun set, and now he was expected to know the best locations to stargaze. So much their world took for granted. She couldn't have known - and wouldn't know, if he could help it - and so he did his best to disguise his melancholy as fatigue.

"These had better be the most impressive stars I have ever seen," he grunted, reaching for the next rocky outcropping above him.

[[SKIN]]:

Her newly crafted armor was far different from her usual fare, but she really did love the style.

Though she had been warned about sunburns, she saw no reason to cover her scaled flesh. While such clothing would have been ill-advised at home, the merciless heat of the desert sun made her new wardrobe incredibly apt. She could do without the stares of her fellow mercenaries, but a few rounds in a fighting ring usually inspired their respect no matter what she chose to wear.

The time between contracts afforded her ample roaming in the deserts of Thanalan, and she took the advantage every chance she got. Most often, when one of her peers would come looking for her with a contract in hand, she would be found languidly sunning her skin on one of the large, flat rocks littering the landscape. Makhali was oft compared to a desert peiste, something that she never once denied and seemed to find great mirth in.

[[SMIRK]]: [Yes, this was in a previous entry, but she does a LOT of smirking so can you really blame me]

The clueless archer slid to a halt before her, barely noticing the bevy of arrows that had missed their mark.

"That was impressive! You really know how to punch!" Khasan grinned, sheathing his bow and surveying the carnage.

"And you don't know how to shoot. Maybe next time you could hit our opponents instead?"

"But then I wouldn't get to see you in action, something I'd dearly miss," he countered smoothly with a confident smirk.

When he looked at her like that, she could do nothing but stare. Makhali wasn't often found speechless, even when it would do her good to keep silent. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, quick and nervous, and she knew it wasn't from the physical exertion of fighting off the pirates nor from the annoyance of swatting his misplaced arrows. Nhaama forbid, it was him.

Why did it have to be him? Sure, he was attractive, but she had seen attractive people before, and none had produced this kind of yearning in her. It was uncomfortable, this feeling in the pit of her stomach. Friendship came easily to her, both in its formation and in the rare cases of its refusal. But this felt like if he turned away, she would break - it was not a feeling she liked. And so, Makhali shoved the emotion down to where it would only surface in dreams, quickly forgotten when the morning broke. Surely it was better this way.

[midnite-enjoyer]

Finally decided to design my takes on the Splatoon agents! Notes below cut ^v^ (also mention of a Side Order boss)

Coral:

When they first joined the Splatoon they were really vicious and fiery, and probably said some stuff they regret today. Over the years they've mellowed considerably, though I think they can still get pretty competitive.

They technically first joined like 2-3 months before their 14th birthday. They'd snuck out to try to watch turf wars and got sidetracked by weird sewer guy. (They, when retelling this story, emphasize that following weird sewer guy was a mistake. Aubergine and Daffodil, who did the same thing, do not care.)

They used she/her during the time of Splat1, changed pronouns sometime during the two years between then and Octo Expansion, and completely forgot to inform Cuttlefish of this until after OE.

Blind in their right eye post-OE

Was a charger main in their youth, but as of yet I'm unsure if they changed mains later on. They were definitely one of Those Chargers when they were younger though

Aubergine

Aubrey for short!

He's like. Really whimsical and a bit eccentric. Perfectly pleasant individual to be around, and she's really good at knowing just what to say when you're feeling down, but sometimes she says something really perplexing out of nowhere.

He likes to people-watch in her free time.

Roommates with Eight! (This is actually canon according to the dialogue when Agent 4's Palette is obtained in Side Order.) They'll often spend late nights together just being mesmerized by crafting videos (stuff like OOAKs or miniatures)

You know how you can buy a Parallel Canon mask in Side Order? Aubrey got one for reasons she refuses to explain. Scared the shit out of poor Eight and he doesn't wear it around them if she can avoid it after that.

He doesn't main one particular weapon, he just has a stash and goes for whatever she feels like that particular day.

Eight

He never remembered his original name, so they just go by Eight. They did actually try a few other names, but none ended up sticking.

Trans :)

They're pretty calm and quiet generally, and doesn't typically initiate conversations. He does like to infodump to people he's closer to, though.

Gets annoyed if you just assume he's a technical whiz because he's Octarian, but yes, they do actually live up to that stereotype. He'll help you fix your appliances if they like you, with one fairly obvious exception...

He banned standing blenders in the apartment. Aubrey is mildly perplexed but just uses one of those hand blender things.

Brush main, but doesn't Turf War a lot. He does a lot of Salmon Run. Neither they nor Aubrey comprehend how they still smell like salmon when he comes back despite the protective gear.

Daffodil

Xe's like one of those yappy dogs to me. Really aggressive and loud during Turf War and controlled settings, but was terrified throughout his singleplayer campaign and just tried to mask it with more aggression.

Her family is in fact from Octo Canyon and left during the exodus post-Octavio fight. Daffodil very much does not talk about this and would greatly prefer if nobody outside the family ever found out about that. (In particular, they don't want Coral to think fae owes them anything.)

It generally hates being indebted to someone, so they tend to get very defensive about being given anything and Will insist on paying you back for it somehow. She even explicitly requests that nobody get xem birthday gifts (although it Does throw wild parties on aer birthday)

Actually a Squid Sisters fan, and likes a lot of their other songs besides Calamari Inkantation (and honestly thinks people are missing out when they only pay attention to the Inkantation), but didn't admit this to anyone until Liquid Sunshine came out.

Absolutely spoils Menace rotten. It pampers that little dude.

Stringer main. I must regretfully inform everyone ze probably mains REEF-LUX.

[n1ghtcrwler]

Hello! Just a reminder you're awesome and feel free to talk about something in a wip that captivates your attention at the moment

Spotify wrapped has me checking my inbox and remembering so many asks I forgot to answer. Sorry for the delay!

The thing is that what's been capturing my attention about a WIP lately is kind of spoilery to explain, so I'll put the explanation beneath a cut, but the summary is very simple:

Glory Days is a story about stories. But not, like, how powerful stories are. Rather, how powerful stories come to exist, for good or ill.

Glory Days, much to the agony of a few people, is still in its planning stage, where any drafting that happens is mostly just getting something down before I forget it. I'm still working out some of the large structures that will guide the actual writing. One of the things I'm working out concerning the story is why Sandara is able to play the role she plays in it. Why does Harrow take an interest in having her be part of his quest? What does she see in the situation that the other characters don't? What about her perspective enables her to see that? How does this change how I tell the story?

See, the book hops between two settings. One follows Sandara as she tells a story in a tavern over the course of a few nights, and some of her interactions during those associated days. These interactions reveal that she puts a great deal of importance on telling this story, and that she has written it into a book. The other setting is the events of that book, which are presented as they appear in that book (which is implied to be a different presentation, but the same content, as the version she's telling in the tavern). So the bulk of Glory Days is told from her perspective in her voice, and the way she sees it is fundamental to how I write it. And how she sees it is fundamentally as a storyteller.

Sandara is a wordsmith. This is a magical role in the setting, a person who doesn't focus on telling true stories so much as telling stories to make them true. It is stated multiple times that one of the things that makes this specific story important for her is that it's already true. But that power, that specific function, is what makes my book (as opposed to her book) work. Sandara starts out as someone trying to find a story to tell. Harrow, who is the populist leader weaponizing nostalgia and fear to his own ends, starts out trying to craft a new story that justifies his actions and makes him the hero of the age. He wants Sandara for her ability to get the world behind him, to spread the story he's crafting, and to give it power. But her role as a wordsmith is also what enables her to realize the difference between the story he wants to craft, and the reality he's using to craft it. She sees the storymaking process happening in real time, and in the end, the ultimate confrontation between them happens when she turns the power of his storymaking process against him. His story is ultimately challenged, not necessarily by facts or morals, but by another story. And finally, she can only ensure the problem is kept at bay by making sure the story that keeps it at bay is spread.

The book Sandara writes exists to stop the spread of a more dangerous story, by telling her own story that undercuts the more dangerous one and reveals the insidious nature of it. But Glory Days, as a whole, says that dangerous movements rely on a compelling story that people buy into; and that, when it comes down to it, even the most powerful application of goodness and truth needs a story of its own to stand against that. And figuring out how to make both of those points (mine and hers), without being so overbearing that they lose impact or interfere with each other, is the aspect of the WIP that currently holds my attention.

Thanks for asking!

[angeldcgs]

from what she could tell, this kid needed a major ego check. entitlement was insufferable when coming from wealthy folks, but it could be just as unbearable on those who were less fortunate, as well. despite the fact that he had been the one who broke into her house with the intention of stealing her belongings, violating her space and her privacy, he had the nerve to act like she was the bad guy. it was like he had no ability to see his own wrongdoing or acknowledge his mistakes, instead preferring to lay the blame on whoever was most convenient, and that just happened to be petra. it's not like she was expecting him to thank her for stripping him naked, but he could at least acknowledge the fact that things could've turned out so, so much worse had she not seen some sort of potential in him. "it's called a strip search, dummy," she deadpanned. "cops do them all the time." which wasn't exactly the best the best example to evoke, considering perverts in law enforcement commonly used their authority to sexually assaults civilians with impunity. such a request was far from nefarious when coming from her, though— it was a common practice to ensure her safety. just because sonny seemed completely inept, that didn't necessarily mean he was harmless, either. if he was smart, he would've been carrying a weapon on him, and she had to make sure he wouldn't whip it out as soon as her guard dropped. "oh, i'm sure... wouldn't wanna jeopardize your relationship with your right hand, anyway. you two make such a cute couple." his jabs were nothing more than playground level insults, petty attempts to try and bite back at her, though he hadn't even lost his baby teeth yet. it would've been cute, had she not been too focused to even really acknowledge it. if he wanted to lash out at her, using her as a stand-in for every filthy rich asshole who filled him with envy, transferring his well justified frustration onto her for less than valid reasons, he was welcome to do so. he'd find out soon enough that her tolerance for bratty behavior could only stretch so far, likely the hard way, as all things seemed to go with him. once he reluctantly handed over his shirt, that signature scowl still plastered on his face, she folded it and placed it atop his pants before returning her attention back to him. "arms up," she instructed simply, raising her arms in a t-shape to demonstrate. "now turn in a circle. slowly." she remained watching him closely, eyes scanning up and down his body, though the only place he could've possibly been hiding something was in his boxers, and from what she could see, he wasn't packing very much of anything in them at all. "alright." seeing that he definitely didn't pose any sort of physical threat to her, she gave him a curt nod before beginning to walk over to where her clunky old wooden dresser stood against the wall, gesturing for him to follow. "c'mere. c'mon, don't drag your fucking feet." with a look of impatience, she waited for him to join her, opening one of the drawers in anticipation for his arrival. "give me your hands." keeping him in the dark as to her intentions was essential, trying to prevent him from trying to fight against her by utilizing the element of surprise. his mind was free to run wild, crafting whatever innocuous or sinister outcome he could possibly think of, but he'd only know for certain where her head was at when she wanted him to.

it had never occurred to sonny that he would've been better off training himself with smaller, more manageable thievery attempts first before heading to the rich part of town to loot the their big fancy houses. the stakes were higher, sure, but in his eyes the only thing he needed to do was not get caught and he'd fully believed that he'd achieve that. with his assumption that petra would be out of the house, there was nothing that could've gone wrong. he didn't have the luxury to work his way up to robbery, he wasn't trying to be the best thief in the world he was merely trying to get enough money to pay his rent and not starve to death. he was trying to exist with the heavy boot of capitalism pressed down on his throat, it wasn't laziness or a lack of work ethic that had led him to her home, it was desperation. whatever her plan for him was, sonny thought it pretty obvious to assume that it wouldn't end well for him. if she wasn't stripping him for some weird kind of sexual gratification, she was doing it to humiliate him and it was unlikely to stop there. "you're the one who wants me naked." he pointed out with a heavy tone of disdain, his eyes flickering down to his bare chest, feebly covered by the shirt balled up in his hand. "yeah? well, you're not my type." sonny scoffed and shook his head at the suggestion he would've in any way enjoyed being taken advance of. was her ego that high? sure, she was an attractive woman, he wasn't blind but she was way too aggressive, bossy in a way that sonny couldn't help but want to fight against. if she was intending on trying to embarrass him, she'd need to try a lot harder than getting him naked. as a teenager he'd suffered perpetually with feelings of shame, believing himself to be broken somehow and incapable of ever living the sort of life that his peers were capable of. eventually, he realised that he wasn't to blame, he'd been bound to a stupid city, unable to make any kind of social progress because of his family's financial problems, smart enough to survive but not to go to college or make any kind of name for himself, he was trapped in obscurity and there was an odd freedom in that realisation. instead of hating himself, sonny turned that frustration onto others, on every stupid face that he served in the store who thought they were owed his kindness because they were customer, on any rich asshole who refused to even so much as glance in his direction when forced to walk on the same street. she could take very few things from him, his life was there if she really desired to act so drastically but all in all, sonny would've preferred that outcome than one in which he was made to snivel at her feet. it was one thing to pretend, a whole other to actually feel whatever mortification she wished to see him squirm with. once his pants and shoes were off and he was left standing in his boxers, sonny looked down his nose at petra as she rose back up and held out her hand, waiting for him to hand over his shirt. he thought about fighting back, though that only lasted for a moment or two till she mention her willingness to dispose of him. he wasn't willing to die for his shirt, even if a sting of anger stabbed him the moment the fabric left his fingers. "fine. can we get on with it? it's cold in here."

[robininthelabyrinth]

Reforged-verse. Baxia had once eight saber-siblings. Saber spirits which trained and developed with her. They were known as the Nine Children of the Dragon. (Based on Fatal Journey where the final disciples in the tomb were the Nie Bros + 7 disciples. But i'm replacing Aituan with another saber spirit for Nie Zhonghui since he's a dual saber wielder! 9 sabers + Aituan! All the sabers are named after The Nine Sons of the Dragon.)

extra for this

There were things one didn’t do with a saber.

Even as indifferent a student as Nie Huaisang knew that, the same way he’d learned rules like ‘don’t stick your hand into hot coals’ or ‘if you jump out the window you will break a bone’. Sabers were tools, even if they had spirits of their own; they were meant to be wielded by their masters, not to act on their own.

It was forbidden for a saber to be used fully autonomously, in fact – sabers did not understand the way of the living, it was said, and hated evil without exception; they could not understand the complexity of human life, the nuances of human mercy, and therefore had no true notion of justice.

Nie Huaisang had always thought that that was bullshit.

It was nice to be proven right.

Are you sure about this? His brother – now a saber himself, and somehow that surprising shocking fact had quickly become normal, as if it was what he’d always been meant to be – wrote to him. It’s dangerous.

“Everything these days is dangerous,” Nie Huaisang said, and his brother wobbled his hilt in a way that signified agreement. “Our enemy hides in the dark, using weapons we can’t see; to match him, we must do the same.”

You’ve always been better at scheming than me, Nie Mingjue replied, and Nie Huaisang thought to himself that he could still hear the fondness that was always there behind his brother’s curt way of speaking, even though the lifeless sand through which they communicated carried no sound but its own. If you think it’s worth it, then we do it.

“It’s not as if they’re going to be completely without a master,” Nie Huaisang pointed out. “You’ll be there with Baxia.”

I am no longer a master.

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “You’re no longer human. But you know human judgment, and human mercy, and wasn’t that always the only problem?”

Bloodlust was also a problem.

“Humans suffer from that, too. You were always able to hold yourself back before; I refuse to believe that you’ll succumb to a frenzy now. We will proceed.”

We will.

Out of all the sabers in the Nie sect, there were nine that Baxia trusted more than anyone. One was his own Aituan, because she’d raised Nie Huaisang from being little more than a baby himself, forging his personality just as he in turn shaped Aituan’s; the other eight were sabers from the same maker as her.

He’d been a little mad, that smith – he’d shown up at the Nie sect in the middle of a stormy night, his clothing without any signifier and his tongue cut out; it was only through the calluses of his hands that they had identified him as a smith, bringing him to the forge when he wouldn’t respond to anything else, and he had proven his worth there, crafting sabers so strong and powerful and beautiful that it had made several sect elders weep. He had made many of the sabers that eventually developed spirits, and one day he had locked himself into seclusion for a full year, emerging with nine nearly-crafted sabers, each one brimming with power and waiting only for a master to be completed.

He’d named them after the nine sons of the dragon.

Baxia, that queen amongst sabers had been the first of them claimed, Nie Mingjue having picked her up far too young; the others were cousins and uncles, each one loyal and talented and powerful. Their training-crazed half-generation uncle, Nie Zonghui, had claimed two for dual wielding; he was a terror on the battlefield, as were they all.

Some had died since they had picked up the saber. Others still lived.

None were currently relevant to Nie Huaisang’s plan, other than consenting to their sabers’ use in it.

Jin Guangyao had butchered Nie Mingjue’s body and hidden it, as if there were any place that Baxia could not track now that she had Nie Mingjue’s wisdom added to her strength. There were four separate places where he had put it, and per Nie Huaisang’s plan, each would be haunted by two of Baxia’s brothers and sister sabers, entirely without their wielder – enough cause a frenzy more than sufficient to draw the attention of cultivators all over.

All that attention would make Jin Guangyao very nervous.

Baxia – with Nie Mingjue to help her – would make sure of that.

And as for Nie Huaisang…

Nobody would notice him and Aituan, left behind like the useless children that they were. No one would notice him slipping into Jin Guangyao’s quarters for the evidence he needed, enough to force even Lan Xichen to face up to everything; no one would see the traps he’d lay for the man who’d hurt his brother in terrible ways and planned even worse, who had similar plans for his own son who was not yet four.

Nobody would know.

Not yet, anyway.

[themousefromfantasyland]

How the Tooth Fairy Became a Guardian

Extracted from Toothiana, Queen of the Tooth Fairy Armies, third book in the Guardians of Childhood series by William Joyce.

In this series, which served as inspiration for the DreamWorks' Rise of the Guardians, William Joyce managed to create one of the craziest and most epic origin stories for the Tooth Fairy. If I'm not mistaken, in one interview, he himself admitted how crazy it was, and how it was inspired by jungle movies he watched as a kid.

The bookworm bowed and told them, “The story of the Queen of Toothiana lies in volume six of Curious Unexplainables of the East.”

“Of course! I should have remembered that myself,” Ombric said, nodding. “Mr. Qwerty, please enlighten us.” (Ombric, the Wizard,and Qwerty, the literal bookworm, are characters that only appeared in the books)

The Guardians sat around the table while Mr. Qwerty began his tale.

“To know the story of Queen Toothiana,” he said, “you must first hear the tale of the maharaja, his slave Haroom, and the Sisters of Flight.”

“Sisters of Flight?” North interrupted.

“Sisters of Flight,” Mr. Qwerty repeated patiently. The image of a beautiful winged woman appeared on one of Mr. Qwerty’s pages. She was human-size, with long, willowy arms and legs and a heart-shaped face. But her wings were magnificent, and she held a bow and arrow of extraordinary design.

The Sisters of Flight were an immortal race of winged women who ruled the city of Punjam Hy Loo, which sits atop the steepest mountain in the mysterious lands of the Farthest East. An army of noble elephants stood guard at the base of the mountain. No humans were allowed to enter, for the mountain’s jungle was a haven for the beasts of the wild—a place where they could be safe from men and their foolishness.

Toothiana’s father was a human by the name of Haroom. He had been sold at birth into slavery as a companion for a young Indian maharaja. Despite being slave and master, the maharaja and Haroom became great friends. But the maharaja was a silly, vain boy who had his every wish and whim granted. Yet this did not make him happy, for he always wanted more.

Haroom, Toothiana's father

Haroom, who had nothing, wanted nothing and so was very content. Secretly, the maharaja admired his friend for this. For his part, Haroom admired the maharaja for knowing what he wanted—and getting it.

The maharaja loved to hunt and slay all the animals of the wild, and Haroom, who never tired of watching the powerful elegance of wild creatures such as tigers and snow leopards, was an excellent tracker. But he hated to see the animals killed, so when that moment came, he always looked away. As a slave, he could do nothing to stop his master. And so, with Haroom tracking, the maharaja killed one of every beast in his kingdom, lining the palace walls with their heads as trophies. But the one animal the maharaja coveted most continued to elude him.

In the mountain land ruled by the Sisters of Flight, there dwelled one creature that no slave, man, or ruler had ever seen: the flying elephant of Punjam Hy Loo.

The maharaja was determined to do anything to have one for his collection, but every time he tried to force his way up the mountain, the elephant army at its base turned him back. He realized that he must find another way to reach Punjam Hy Loo.

In those ancient times no man had yet discovered the mystery of flight. But after demanding advice from his wizards and soothsayers, the maharaja learned a secret: Children can fly when they dream, and when the Moon shines brightly, their dreams can become so vivid that some of them come true. Sometimes the children remember, but mostly they do not. That is why children sometimes wake up in their parents’ beds without knowing how they got there—they flew!

The wizards told the maharaja a second secret.” At this, Mr. Qwerty lowered his voice, and all the Guardians leaned closer. “The memory of everything that happens to a child is stored in that child’s baby teeth.

And so the maharaja’s wizards gave him an idea: fashion a craft of the lost teeth of children and command it to remember how to fly. The maharaja sent out a decree throughout his kingdom, stating that whenever a child lost a tooth, it must be brought to his palace. His subjects happily complied, and it was not long before he had assembled a craft unlike any other the world had ever known.

Meanwhile, the maharaja ordered Haroom to make an archer’s bow of purest gold and one single ruby-tipped arrow. When the weapon was finished, the maharaja ordered Haroom to join him aboard the craft. Then he said these magic words:

‘Remember,

remember,

the moonlit flights

of magic nights.’

And just as the royal wizards had promised, the craft flew silently through the sky, over the jungle, and past the elephants who guarded Punjam Hy Loo.

They descended from the clouds and flew into the still-sleeping city. In the misty light of dawn, the maharaja could hardly tell where the jungle ended and the city began. But Haroom, used to seeking out tracks, spotted some he had never seen before—tracks that could only belong to the flying elephant, for although they looked similar to a normal elephant’s, his keen eye saw one addition: an extra digit pointing backward, like that of a bird.

It did not take long to find the flying elephant, sleeping in a nest in the low-lying limbs of an enormous jujube tree. The maharaja raised the golden bow and took careful aim. The tip of the ruby arrow glittered in the first rays of morning sunlight. Haroom looked away.

Suddenly, there came an intense, cacophonous alarm, as if every creature of Punjam Hy Loo knew of the maharaja’s murderous intent. Charging down from the towers above came the Sisters of Flight, wings outstretched, with all manner of weapons at the ready—gleaming swords, razor-sharp daggers, fantastical flying spears with wings of their own. It was a sight so beautiful, so terrifying that Haroom and the maharaja froze.

Then the maharaja raised his bow again, this time aiming it at the Sisters of Flight. ‘Look, Haroom, an even greater prize,’ he exclaimed.

In that single moment Haroom’s whole life changed. He knew, for the very first time, what he wanted. He could not bear to see a Sister of Flight harmed. He ordered the maharaja to stop.

The maharaja paid his servant no heed. He let loose the arrow. Haroom blocked it. Its ruby tip pierced his chest, and he crumbled to the ground.

The maharaja stared in shock, then kneeled beside his fallen friend. Weeping, he tried to stop the flow of blood but could not. Haroom was dying.

The Sisters of Flight landed around them. The most beautiful of the sisters, the one the maharaja had meant to kill, approached them. ‘We did not know that any man could be so selfless,’ she said. Her sisters nodded.

With one hand, she grabbed the arrow and plucked it from Haroom’s chest, then kissed her fingertips and gently touched his wound.

Haroom stirred, and his eyes fluttered open. All he could see was the face of the Sister of Flight. And all she could see was the brave and noble Haroom.

He was a slave no more.

She took his hand, and in that instant her wings vanished.

The other sisters lunged toward the maharaja in fury. They raised their swords, and Haroom could see they meant to kill his former master. ‘He will no longer harm you,’ he said. ‘Please, let him go—send him on his way.’

The sisters looked from one to the other, then agreed. But they declared that the maharaja must leave all he brought with him. The golden bow, the ruby-tipped arrow, the flying craft of teeth, and Haroom, his only friend.

‘And one thing more. You must also leave your vanity and cruelty behind so that we can know and understand them.’

The maharaja was heartbroken but agreed.

The flying elephant glided down from his nest, and with his trunk, he touched the maharaja’s forehead, and all the vanity and cruelty went from him.

But once these things were gone, there was little left—the maharaja was as simple as a baby monkey. In fact, he even sprouted a tail and scampered away speaking gibberish, shrinking to the size of an infant.

His vanity and cruelty would never be forgotten—the flying elephant had them now, and an elephant never forgets. As for Haroom and the beautiful Sister of Flight, they were married and lived on in Punjam Hy Loo. Within a year, a child was born. A girl. Selfless like her father. Pure of heart like her mother. She was named Toothiana.

The child of Haroom and Rashmi (for that was Toothiana’s mother’s name) seemed to be a normal mortal child. As there were no other human children living in Punjam Hy Loo, her parents thought it best to raise her among other mortals, and so they settled on the outskirts of a small village at the edge of the jungle. The young girl was well loved and protected and lived a simple, happy life until she was twelve and lost her last baby tooth. That’s when all her troubles began.

“Troubles?” Katherine asked nervously. (Katherine is also another book only character. She is friend of the Guardians and future guardian herself, Mother Goose, guardian of the stories)

“Yes, troubles,” Mr. Qwerty said. “For when she lost her last baby tooth, Toothiana sprouted wings. By the end of this first miraculous day, she could fly with the speed of a bird, darting to the top of the tallest trees to choose the ripest mangoes, papayas, and starfruit for the children of the village. She played with the birds and made friends with the wind.

But while the children delighted in Toothiana’s new skill, the adults of the village were bewildered, even frightened, by this half bird, half girl. Some thought she was an evil spirit and should be killed; others saw ways to use her, as either a freak to be caged and paraded about, or to force her to fly to the palace of the new maharaja and steal his jewels.

Haroom and Rashmi knew that to keep their daughter safe, they would have to pack their few belongings and escape. And so they did, deep into the jungle. The village children, all of whom adored Toothiana, tried to persuade their parents to leave her alone. But it was no use. The grown-ups of the village had gone mad with fear and greed.

They built a large cage, hired the best hunters in the land, and asked them to capture the young girl. Among these was a hunter most mysterious. He spoke not a word and was shrouded from head to foot in tattered cloth stitched together with jungle vines. The villagers were wary of him, and even the other hunters found him peculiar. ‘He knows the jungle better than any of us—it’s as if he’s more a creature than a man,’ they remarked quietly among themselves.

But Haroom and Rashmi were as wily as any hunter. Haroom, knowing everything there was to know about tracking, could disguise their trail so that no one could follow it. And Rashmi, who could converse with any animal, enlisted their aid in confounding the hunters. Tigers, elephants, even giant pythons would intercept the hunters whenever they neared. But the hunters, eager for the riches and fame they’d receive if they caged Toothiana, would not give up.

Rashmi, Toothiana's mother

The children of the village were also determined to thwart the hunters. They defied their parents, sending word to Toothiana and her mother and father again and again whenever the hunters were stalking the jungle. Toothiana, wiser still, hid in the treetops by day, only visiting her parents in the darkest hours of the night.

After weeks of the best hunters in the land failing to capture Toothiana, the cunning villagers became more sly. They secretly followed their children and discovered where Toothiana’s parents were hiding. They left a trail of coins for the hunters to follow. But only one hunter came—the one they almost feared. It was then that the Mysterious Hunter finally spoke. His voice was strange, high-pitched, almost comical, but his words were cold as death. ‘Seize the parents,’ he snarled. ‘Make it known that I will slit their throats if Toothiana does not surrender. That will bring this child of flight out of hiding.’

His plan made sense; the villagers did as he suggested. They attacked Haroom and Rashmi’s camp. With so many against them, the two surrendered without a fight. They had told their clever daughter to never try and help them if they were ever captured.

But the Mysterious Hunter had planned for that. He shouted out to any creature that could hear, ‘The parents of the flying girl will die by dawn if she comes not!’

The creatures of the jungle hurried to warn Toothiana that her parents were doomed if she did not come. Toothiana had never disobeyed her parents, but the thought of them at the dubious mercy of these grown-ups filled her with rage and determination, and she flew straight to her parents’ aid. She dove down from the treetops, ready to kill any who would try to harm her parents.

But Haroom and Rashmi were brave and cunning as well. Haroom, who had never harmed a living creature, was prepared to stop at nothing to prevent his daughter from being enslaved. And Rashmi, like all Sisters of Flight, had been a great warrior. As Toothiana neared, they slashed and fought like beings possessed. Toothiana flickered back and forth, hovering over her mother and father, reaching for them, but she did not have the strength to lift them up over the angry mob. Rashmi thrust a stringed pouch into her daughter’s hands. ‘Keep these to remember us by. Keep these to protect yourself,’ she pleaded to her child.

'Now go!’ commanded her father. ‘GO!’

With a heartrending cry, the winged girl did as her father ordered. She flew away but stopped, unsure of what to do. Her ears filled with the sound of the vengeful mob falling upon her parents.

‘Go!’ shouted her mother.

Toothiana flew wildly and desperately away. And as she went, she screamed from the depths of her soul. It was the scream of two beings: human and animal. It was a scream so pained and fierce that it caused all the villagers who were attacking her parents to go briefly deaf. All except . . . the Mysterious Hunter. He screamed back to Toothiana. His was a scream equally unsettling—a scream of rage and hate that was more animal than human. Toothiana knew in that instant that she had a mortal enemy—one who she must kill or be killed by.

But for now she would grieve. She flew to the highest treetop and huddled deep inside its foliage. She had no tears, only the blank ache of a now-empty life. She rocked back and forth in a trance of disbelief for a full day and night. Then she remembered the pouch her mother had thrust into her hands. Trembling, she opened it. Inside was a small box carved from a single giant ruby. It was covered in feathery patterns, and Toothiana knew that the box had once been the ruby-tipped arrow that had nearly killed her parents. Inside this beautiful box was a cluster of baby teeth and a note:

Our Dearest Girl,

These are the teeth of your childhood. If you have them under your pillow as you sleep, or hold it tightly, you will remember that which you need—a memory of happy days, or of deepest hopes, or even of us in better times.

But one tooth is not yours. It is a tooth of amazing power, and from what being it comes from, we do not know.

Use it only in times of the greatest danger or need.

Your Dearest Parents

Toothiana still did not cry, not even after reading the note. She slept with her baby teeth under her pillow and took solace in the dreams and memories it gave her.

Toothiana stayed in the jungle. She began to hate her wings. Once, she had thought them wondrous things, but now she saw them as the reason for the death of her parents. Her grief and loneliness knew no depths. The creatures of the jungle did what they could to help her, by bringing her food and making her treetop sleeping places as comfortable as possible. The children of the village tried to aid as well, but they now had to be doubly cautious of the village grown-ups.

As for Toothiana, she became more and more convinced that she belonged nowhere—not among the creatures of the jungle and certainly not among the humans of the village. She was alone. When she was at her very saddest, she would take one of her baby teeth from the carved box she always carried in her mother’s pouch she now wore around her neck, and hold it until it revealed its memories.

As the lonely years passed, Toothiana saw that the village children lost much of their innocence and some of their goodness as they grew up. She began to collect their teeth, so that, in the future, she could give them back their childhood memories and remind them of their kindness, just as her own parents had done for her.

Soon the children, not wanting their parents to find out, began to hide their lost teeth under their pillows for Toothiana to find. And she, cheered by this new game of sorts, began in turn to leave behind small bits of treasure she had found in the jungle. A gold nugget here. A sprinkling of sapphire chips there.

But you can imagine the curiosity that is stirred when a five-year-old sits down to breakfast with an uncut ruby in her palm, or when a ten-year-old boy comes to the table with a pocket full of emeralds. Once again the hearts of the grown-ups filled with greed, and it wasn’t long before they forced their children to tell them how they had come upon those treasures. Soon enough they had laid a new trap for Toothiana.

One dark, cloudy night Toothiana flew to the village to make her nightly rounds. A boy named Akela had lost his two front teeth, and Toothiana had a special treasure saved for him: two beautiful uncut diamonds. But as she entered his open window, it wasn’t Akela she found. Instead the Mysterious Hunter leaped toward her. From behind his shroud of rags, she could see the strangest eyes. Close together. Beady. Not entirely human. And cold with hate.

Toothiana’s rage clouded her keen intellect. All she could think was, I must get rid of this . . . thing! But before she could act, a steel door slammed down between her and the Hunter. She glanced around with birdlike quickness. The room was not Akela’s bedroom, but, in fact, a cleverly disguised steel cage.

She was trapped! The villagers cheered as the Hunter hauled away the cage. His platoon of slavelike helpers pulled the wheeled prison away from the villagers and into the jungle. The helpers were as strangely shrouded as the Hunter who commanded them was, and seemed excited by the capture. The children wept, begging their parents to let Toothiana go free. But they would not. The Mysterious Hunter had promised them riches beyond their dreams when he sold Toothiana.

Toothiana flung herself wildly against the cage, like a cornered eagle. But it did no good. The Hunter and his minions traveled swiftly through the night, deeper into the jungle. They knew the creatures of the wild would try to help Toothiana, so they carried the one weapon every animal fears: fire.

Torches were lashed to the roof of Toothiana’s cage. The Mysterious Hunter himself carried the brightest torch of all. The animals kept their distance, but they continued to follow the eerie caravan and keep watch over Toothiana, waiting for a chance to strike.

After days of travel they arrived at the base of the steep mountain of Toothiana’s birthplace—the kingdom of Punjam Hy Loo. The great elephants that guarded the mountain were standing at the ready, shifting back and forth on their massive feet. Toothiana’s jungle friends had warned them that the Mysterious Hunter was headed their way.

The Hunter did not challenge the elephants. He ordered his minions to halt and made no move to attack. Instead, he held his flaming torch aloft. ‘I bring a treasure to the Sisters of Flight and the flying elephant king who dwell in Punjam Hy Loo!’ he shouted into the night sky. The sky was empty; there was no sign of either the winged women who ruled there, or of the flying elephant.

The Hunter called out again. ‘I bring you the half-breed daughter of Haroom and Rashmi.’ At this, an otherworldly sound—like a rustle of trees in the wind—was heard. And indeed wind did begin to blow down from the mountain. It grew stronger and more furious, with gusts that nearly put out the torches.

Toothiana knew instinctually that this wind was sent by the Sisters of Flight and that they did not trust the Hunter. She also knew that it was time to take out the box her parents had left her.

As the winds continued to rise, the Hunter grew increasingly nervous, as did his minions. They began to chatter in the oddest way, not in words, but in sounds.

Then a chorus of voices, all speaking in unison, rang out bright and clear above the howl of the wind: ‘Tell us, Hunter, why cage our child? Where be her father and mother? What trick of men do you bring us? What do you seek, you who seem of men and yet are not?’

The Hunter rocked on his feet, seething with undisguised hate. He held his torch high and stepped forward, leaning into the wind. The elephants raised their trunks but took a step back. Fire was a fearsome thing, even for these mighty beasts.

The Hunter laughed, then threw down his tattered cloak. He was no man at all, but a massive monkey. ‘A maharaja of men I once was,’ he screamed, ‘and by your doing, I am now a king of the monkeys!’ Then his troops dropped their cloaks as well. An array of monkeys revealed themselves, all armed with bows and arrows.

The Monkey King shrieked above the roaring wind, ‘You ask about her parents? Dead! By my doing! What do I seek? Revenge! On all who made me thus!’ Then he threw his torch into the herd of elephants and grabbed a bow and arrow from one of his men. He had it drawn in an instant, aimed directly at Toothiana’s heart.

Before he could let loose the arrow, the wind tripled in strength. Toothiana knew what to do. She held the ruby box tightly in her hand. ‘Mother, Father, help me,’ she whispered furiously, clenching her eyes shut. She pictured them clearly in her mind, letting herself feel the bond they had shared so deeply, letting herself remember how much they had sacrificed for her.

Suddenly, she was no longer in the cage. She was no longer a single entity, but several smaller versions of herself.

Bow drawn, the Monkey King hesitated, bewildered. How can this be? He could not remember the power of love—even though it had been this girl’s father who had loved him best—and his own memories were now fueled only by hate.

So the world turned against him once again.

The Sisters of Flight circled overhead. It was the flapping of their wings that made the great wind. It grew wilder and stranger, like a tornado. Leaves snapped off trees. Dirt swirled like a storm, and the Monkey King’s torch blew out.

Now the only light came from the Moon, and no jungle creature fears that guiding light. In an instant the elephants stampeded forward. Toothiana’s animal friends attacked. Toothiana’s mini-selves charged the Monkey King. The monkey army screamed and ran.

The king tried to grab the Toothianas, but he could not catch them. Then all the fairy-sized selves merged back into a single being. Toothiana was mystified by her new power, but she didn’t think on it. With one hand, she grabbed the Monkey King by the throat. It was as if she now had the strength of a dozen. The Monkey King cried out in terror and pain.

For an instant Toothiana felt the rage within her swell. She would snap his neck and be done with him. But the little box glowed in one hand, and the memory of her parents made her stop. She would not end this monkey man’s life. Let the jungle choose his fate.

So she let him go.

He fell to the ground, and she did not look back as she flew up to join the Sisters of Flight.

As they sped away, Toothiana and her kindred could hear the creatures of the jungle do as they saw fit with the fallen Monkey King. And his cries could be heard all the way to the Moon.

Mr. Qwerty then shut his pages. The tale, as it was written, was done.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜: 𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, encouraging, justifying, promoting nor romanticizing yandere behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationships, stalking, murder, kidnapping, torture, mental manipulation, use of LSD, physical violence, mind breaking, sexual scenes and other yandere behavior. Read at your own discretion.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟽𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟾

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟽𝟸 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟻'𝟾 𝙵𝚃.

𝙰𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■□80%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□90%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚛

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

𝙴𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚢/𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 .

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎.

𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 '𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝' 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝.

𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚍𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He was a lost and wandering soul when it happened.

It wasn't that he was depressed or unsatisfied with his life.

But for the longest time he felt....empty.

As if he was carrying a void that couldn't be filled.

Not even his favorite hobbies gave him joy any longer.

It was as if he was either tapping out tunes on the piano or splattering colors on articles of clothing.

They had no meaning whatsoever anymore.

Live no longer felt to have any more meaning to him.

He felt like he was merely an empty shell, just going through life but never actually living.

Coming out of an arts and crafts store, his hands were full of all sorts of acrylics and watercolors he had just bought.

A passing cyclist didn't see him and didn't really care as he slightly collided with Hongjoong.

Letting out a big "oof!" he stumbled onto the pavement underneath him, all his materials flying out.

Although he wasn't hurt much, he still let out a groan and tried to get up.

He was startled when a gentle hand reached out towards him, lending him some help.

Looking up, his heart somersaulted as he stared at the kind and beautiful stranger that was offering him assistance.

"Are you all right?" Her eyes were full of concern and tenderness for him.

Hongjoong forgot how to speak in that moment, too amazed and stunned by the beauty standing right in front of him.

Nevertheless he did take her hand, his body trembling nervously as soon as he had the first physical contact with her.

The woman shook her head as her eyebrows furrowed.

"Seriously, what a jerk. Can't believe some people honestly."

Hongjoong still didn't respond, instead he shyly began picking up some of the stuff that had fallen.

"Let me help you." She offered her help once more.

Of course she was faster and picked up most of the stuff because he had a huge scrape on his knee and he was limping slightly.

"Thank....thank you." His voice was barely above a whisper as he took the stuff away from her.

"You're welcome. Would you like me to help you carry them to your car?"

Waving his hand he adamantly denied her offer, assuring her over and over again that he was all right.

Before he could leave, the girl extended her hand once again.

"I'm Y/N by the way. Nice to meet you."

"Y/N...."

Her name repeated itself over and over again in his head even hours after she had left him.

Even as he layed in his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling, he couldn't keep the softest smile off his face.

He didn't know if he had drifted off to sleep or was zoning in and out of a lucid dream, but all he could think about was her.

He was up as soon as the sun rose up, flinging his blanket across the room as he ran to his desk and took out his sketchpad.

Right away, he began to outline her face, wanting the vivid image of her to stay with him should his mind ever dare to erase her from his memory.

Although he was satisfied with the ending result, it was still not enough for him.

He felt his goddess, his newfound muse needed more justice than just pencil to capture her beauty.

Watercolors, acrylics, oil pastels and even ink, there wasn't any art material that Hongjoong didn't use to create a portrait of Y/N.

Soon his studio was filled and covered with paintings of her and he couldn't be happier...

Until he realized how much he'd rather have the real thing right there in person with him, in his arms, holding her and never letting go.

He almost fell into a depressive state again, dreading the fact that he'd never see his beloved muse ever again......

Until he saw her once again, walking across the street from the cafe he was in.

He quickly sprung out of his seat and ran out the door, eager to see her once again and hopefully talk to her more.

Just as he was about to call out to her, he stopped when a male came up to her, hugging her ever so intimately and ruffling her hair.

Hongjoong's hand tightened into a fist, nails digging into his skin as his eyes burning with anger and jealousy.

"She's my treasure, I found her and I won't let anyone else take her from me."

Making sure they were unaware of his looming presence, he stalked them out, trying to find the perfect opportunity to strike.

They seemed to be going on some sort of date, which only fueled his anger.

Finally, after they both went their separate ways, Hongjoong followed the mysterious man home, not letting his chance escape.

As soon as the man parked in his driveway and got out of the car, Hongjoong cornered him.

Using his belt as a makeshift weapon, he wrapped it around the man's throat, tightening it until he cut off his air flow.

Although he put up quite a struggle, Hongjoong was so full of anger and rage that he kept him strangled until his body stopped writhing and layed cold on his feet.

Taking his keys, Hongjoong decided to go inside the house to see if he could find anymore information about his precious treasure, figure out where she lived and what not.

Finding a cabinet full of documents, not only did Hongjoong found her address but also ended up discovering the man he just killed was actually her brother, and not a lover as he believed him to be.

"Oh well. Mistakes happen." He justified himself.

"Besides, he still would have been an obstacle and might have come between us."

A week later and now he was waiting for her inside her house, not having any difficulty in breaking in.

His eyes would anxiously look at the time, waiting for her to come home from work like she would usually do at that time.

When he heard her car come up in the driveway, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

Y/N walked into her house as usual, throwing her bag onto the couch.

As she was about to turn on the light, she felt a hard blow to her head, knocking her to the ground, her vision suddenly turning black.

When she awoke, she was beyond startled by all the countless portraits and clay figurines modeled after her.

Her eyes scanned the entire room, somewhat frightened by all the countless images of her staring back at her.

She was so bewildered by the scene that she didn't hear the door open and didn't see the person who came in until she was jolting out of her seat when a hand placed itself on her shoulder.

When she turned around and saw who it was that was smiling at her, she couldn't believe her eyes.

"You......you're...you're..."

Hongjoong nodded. "Yes my darling. I'm the man you helped out a month ago. Which, by the way I'm still grateful for."

Cupping her chin with his fingers, he leaned in to give her a kiss but she backed away, which made him frown.

"Hey, it's not very nice to reject someone's offer of gratitude darling. Did they not teach you manners at home?"

When he reached out to touch her once again, she smacked his hand away, moving as far away from him as possible.

Although it didn't really hurt him, Hongjoong was disappointed that his beloved muse could actually strike at him.

"This isn't what I imagined or expected from you love. You're supposed to be gentle, serene, obedient and just outright perfect.... like the pictures surrounding you.."

Y/N put her hands above her face when he crept closer to her once more, but Hongjoong, who was deceivingly strong for his body built, quickly took hold of them and uncovered her face.

"But that's ok.......if a small lump of clay can be easily molded into a beautiful vase, I'm sure I can mold you to perfection."

Y/N shuddered at his words, and tried to writhe her way out of his grasp as he pulled her out into the hallway and dragged her down into what she assumed was his basement.

Using his strength to overpower her, he easily strapped her down into one of the chairs he kept there, binding her legs and hands down.

"I suggest you start familiarizing yourself with this place Y/N. This...."

With an eerily calm and somewhat sadistic smile, Hongjoong extended his arms to gesture around the room.

"Is where your training begins."

7 months.......for 7 excruciating months, Y/N had been kept in Hongjoong's house, 3 of which were spent inside his room of horrors.

She still didn't understand how she came out of there alive and in one piece.

There wasn't a single night where she didn't relive the torture she went through.

Slapping, canning, limbs stretched out til they were almost out of their sockets, head submerged in water til she nearly passed out.

One time she had resisted so much and pissed Hongjoong off extremely by slapping him that he strapped her hand down and smashed her fingers one by one, breaking them entirely.

Of course, although he helped her heal them as he did her other wounds because he didn't want permanent physical damage on his treasure.

It'd only serve to ruin and taint her perfect image.

But the worst for Y/N wasn't going through all the physical torture.....

Her worst nightmare was all the times Hongjoong dosed her on LSD, prompting her to start hallucinating horrible scenarios.

Her mind seemed to weaken with every dosage he gave her, it would slowly eat away every last bit of her sanity.

Which might explain why now she tried to be more obedient and pliant towards Hongjoong, doing everything as he said and exactly how he wanted her to.

Although occasionally she would still step out of line, he'd shoot her a glare and warn her about it.

"Do you want to go back down there? Did I not give you sufficient training?"

At the sole mention of being taken back downstairs, she'd immediately remember herself and portray the illusion he wanted.

Hongjoong seemed thrilled to finally have created the perfect model, his beautiful creation came to life.

He was absolutely head over heels for his lovely goddess, she was beyond perfect and ethereal.

Sure she still had a little bit of stubbornness in her, but that was easily fixed and she'd be his perfect little doll once more.

And he loved praising her and reminding her about it, especially when they were intimate.

"See love? I knew you would come to love me." He whispered softly in her ear, a low moan escaping his lips as he moved inside of her.

Kissing the sides of her neck, he panted softly as he came inside her.

"My beautiful and perfect goddess."

Months turned to over a year and although Y/N still played the part of a loving and perfect soulmate, she didn't know how long she could take it anymore.

Perhaps it was being locked up for so long, perhaps it was the fear Hongjoong instilled in her. Maybe she was tired from playing a role she couldn't keep up with anymore.

All that combined with the fact she was now pregnant with Hongjoong's child, her hormones going crazy and her mind worrying about what her future would be like had her ready to snap.

One particular day, she just about had it.

Hongjoong had been smothering her all day, constantly nagging about taking care of herself and not harm the baby.

Her blood was boiling with rage as he kept pestering her about it over dinner.

Having had enough, she got out of her seat and reached for the nearest kitchen knife and pointed it at her stomach.

"Why don't I just rip out the baby out then? Maybe then you'll be satisfied."

Hongjoong immediately got up and tried to take the knife away from her.

"Y/N! Have you lost your mind?!" He exclaimed.

"If I lost my mind it's all thanks to you!"

Even after Hongjoong managed to toss the knife out of her hands, Y/N still continued to struggle and smack her hands at him, beating at his chest as hard as she could.

"I hate you!" She declared before her fist tried to collide with his face, but Hongjoong being faster than her, stopped it from hitting him.

Outraged that his model was breaking down, he picked her up, not caring about her being pregnant and stomped his way back to the training room.

Y/N was already bursting into tears when he began strapping her down into the chair, protesting about it.

"You'll hurt our child you mon-."

Gripping her throat tightly, he cut her off from finishing that sentence.

"This coming from the one threatening to rip the innocent baby out herself. But don't worry, I'll make sure no harm comes to our child."

Letting go of her neck, he quickly took out a familiar vial and needle out of a cabinet.

Although Y/N tried to get away, it was no use as she was once again tied up and the sting of the fluids shooting up her veins, making her dizzy immediately.

Hongjoong only watched with a blank face as the drugs started to take effect.

Going back to the cabinet, he took out a folder and walked back to Y/N with it.

"Now.... I never planned to show you this, but I guess you left me no choice."

Even in her hazy state, Y/N could make out what seemed to be a picture of her brother, but she wasn't sure if it was an illusion or not

"Yes, that is your brother indeed. Took care of you when your parents died and you were very attached to him. Your only living relative right?.....or is he?"

Pulling out another picture, Hongjoong made sure to hold it up right in her face so she could clearly see the gruesome image.

"This is how I left him after I attacked him one night. You'll be proud, he put up quite a good fight, but as you can see......in the end he still lost." He actually had the audacity to chuckle as if it was an amusing thing.

Y/N wanted to scream, but her body wouldn't allow it.

She couldn't believe that her remaining family, the only hope she could grasp onto and help get her out of the mess....

Was gone, forever vanished from the face of the earth by the same monster who took her away.

She no longer had the physical, mental nor emotional strength to resist and fight anymore.

She allowed her body to succumb to the effects of the drugs, eyes closing as she fell into a deep sleep full of haunting memories and images.

When she awoke hours later, she felt absolutely nothing, only numbness.

Gently stroking her hair, Hongjoong leaned in and scanned her expressionless face, satisfied when she just allowed him to pet her as he pleased, no longer resisting his touch.

"Do you know who you are?" He simply asked her.

Without even so much as blinking, she answered in a monotone, almost robotic voice:

"I'm your soulmate, your muse and your goddess, and I love no one but you."

Hongjoong nearly bursted into tears. Finally after so long, after so many experiments and efforts, he finally created his ultimate masterpiece.

"Perfect......at last...you're absolutely perfect.

[cantfightmoonlight]

"Wow, you know what, Veronica," He shook his head back and forth. His grin only growing as he snuck a peek over in her direction. "And here I thought I was doing pretty well, but way to bruise a man's ego with one sentence alone," He joked. Only as he finished the sad tale that was his life, his eyes widened slightly at her reaction, momentarily taken aback by the way she didn't seem to be phased at the fact that he had essentially weaponized werewolf-ism. "Uh, yeah, one could say that? I mean I'm still pretty far away from crafting even a working prototype, but I'm trying at least? To find a way to, well, be able to reverse this?" He admitted, although a be all end all cure for supernaturalism was hardly that simple. He'd likely have to manufacture a different cure for each species and, even then, he wasn't even entirely sure if a cure was possible? But, if they could turn someone, theoretically speaking, they should be able to reverse the process, right? "And yeah, um, I'm pretty sure you're the only person who thinks that. I think most people view it as a liability more than anything, but thanks, Ronnie? For, I don't know, believing in a stranger you just met?" It meant more than he could convey in words even if she had only meant it as a passing sentiment.

"You know it's very rude of you to call out the fact that I'm not actual a medical doctor, but yes, in my science doctor opinion," He teased. Only, to find his brow raising and him clearing his through at that little pout of hers. "I, uh- oh, I see what you did just there. But, I'm afraid to tell you, V, if I'm inviting a girl as special as you into my bed, I don't think we'd really get much sleeping done. And only cute? You wound me again, Veronica," He feigned a gasp, clasping his hands over his heart as he fell back against the grass, pretending to be wounded.

"Which could be very soon, depending on how this conversation goes," Ronnie teased. She listened to his story, though, head cocked slightly to the side and eyes rapt with attention. She blinked when he finished. All she could really understand was that he had been trying to find a cure for this, for being like this. And like him now, she supposed. Yeah, he failed, but. "So it's... still kind of a work in progress, huh?" she asked. "Your cure?" If he could make a cure, she'd take it. Immediately. Without hesitation. Then she could leave and go back home and say it'd all been a big mistake, and there'd be no worry of her eating anyone, no fear of her burning up in the sun, no threat of hunters staking her through the heart. "It's kind of cool, though. That you made something like that, even if it wasn't your intention. Gotta start somewhere, right?"

She laughed, slightly incredulous but real. "Is this your medical doctor opinion or your science doctor opinion?" she asked, an eyebrow raised. She pouted a little, resting her chin on her hand. "Open the door? So you're saying I can't sleep with you? That's kind of rude, you know? I was just starting to feel special." Still, she was smiling. "It's really nice to meet you, too, Cute Caleb."

[settersprouts]

꒦ ikanaide : chapter four ! ꒦

半神

. . : oikawa is the son of athena, while iwaizumi is the son of ares. both godly parents are known to be rivals, but what does that mean for their children ?

or, hq + percy jackson au, where oikawa is not the son of aphrodite for once, but people still think he is because he's pretty, and he's flattered and confused.

. . : okay hear me out, oikawa is known to be strategic and analytical, which is perfect for a descendant of athena. that is my reasoning for this alr dont attack me pls also, vv sorry this was late, i was feeling like shit all week and couldn't finish m sorry :((( hopefully you guys didn't wait too long :((

iwaizumi's about had enough of his bullshit.

his fists were shaking as he stood in front of his divine cabin, the front door ajar and an absolutely horrid smell wafting out from the cabin. he stepped closer to the cabin, stiffening even more as he pushed the door open the rest of the way. the whole place was absolutely trashed- both his and his other roommates' clothes mixed together in many piles on the floor. he could tell just from the strategically placed items all around the room that the place was definitely rigged with mediocre traps. nothing would kill him, but it would most likely maim him.

the demigod growled, stepping over the tripwires on the floor and grabbing his khopesh. it was charged with electricity, thanks to yū nishinoya from cabin one. in exchange for the many weapons the son of ares' crafted, the son of zeus would help charge a select few and give them back to him.

the added energy would definitely be helpful for when he beat the absolute shit of a certain demigod.

he was seething with bloodlust as he stepped out of his cabin, walking towards the beach, where he knew the person he was looking for would be.

and there he was. sitting in one of the little tide pools, talking with one of the sea nymphs. she was way too close to him, but oikawa didn't look like he minded in the slightest. or he didn't notice, one of the two.

she bent down to whisper in his ear, his pupils growing smaller in his brown eyes, and he let out a laugh. it was really melodic, which was common for a son of aphrodite. their beauty was immaculate, and they were practically irresistible to everyone, unless you had a decent sense of self control. iwaizumi knew that oikawa had the whole camp under his fingertips. except for him.

iwaizumi let out a groan, clenching his fists. fuck morales. he knew that his father and oikawa's mother were on really good terms, but he couldn't help but feel attracted to the absolute need to punch the brunette in the face. with a concrete slab. or choke him with aphrodite's famous scarf. one of the two.

he let out an animalistic growl, drawing the attention of oikawa and the unnamed sea nymph. oikawa blinked at him, unimpressed, while the nymph shrieked and dove back into the ocean with a splash. oikawa glanced at the bubbles where the nymph had disappeared, and let out an unamused sigh.

`oh, well, she was kind of boring anyways,` he said nonchalant, stepping out of the pool, buck-naked, without a care in the world. iwaizumi's eyes widened as he turned away almost immediately, his face flushing completely.

`what the hell do you think you're doing?` he seethed, his usual bark lacking no bite, since oikawa really couldn't see his facial expression.

the latter let out a chuckle. `calm down, you can turn around, now. i'm decent.`

forest-green eyes slowly darted back to the brunette's figure, pupils growing bigger in relief, as he realized that he really was decent. he was dressed in the atrociously bright orange camp half-blood shirt, and bleached denim jeans, rolled up to just above his ankles. his bead necklace was still wrapped around his neck snugly. it was extremely tighter than iwaizumi's, which hung down just over the scar on his left pec. he must've tightened it like a choker. it was kind of smart- usually, monsters with half a brain used those necklaces to pull demigods towards them if they couldn't grab their limbs. this tactic limited the amount of things they could grab on him.

iwaizumi would've never thought of that.

`so,` oikawa mused, folding his now damp towel. he must have used it to dry himself off while iwaizumi was looking away from him. `what do you need from me?`

the other demigod blinked, mouth forming an 'o' once he realized his reason for being there. he totally didn't forget that he wanted to sock oikawa in the face just because he saw him naked. `right. i have a bone to pick with you, oikawa.`

`oh? is that so?` the brunette smiled sweetly at him, his eyebrows furrowed in an act of confusion and innocence. disgusting.

iwaizumi stepped forward, whipping out the khopesh he had stuffed in his pocket. with a simple flick of his wrist, it extended. the contraption was thanks to someone in cabin number six, with the help of cabin nine- apparently, iwaizumi had saved someone dear to them, and he was given the khopesh as a thank you. however, the person never did reveal themself to iwaizumi. it was an athena cabin secret.

oikawa's brown eyes widened at the sight of the weapon, but that expression was quickly replaced with an amused sneer. `oh, what's this? you want to fight?`

`no, you're going to let me maim you in silence, i refuse to fight someone as weak as you.` iwaizumi retorted, fists clenching. the brunette gawked, his mouth agape in a silent shout.

`weak? excuse me? i'm far from weak. just because you come from cabin five, doesn't mean you're higher than everyone else.` he replied, sticking his nose high up in the air. `i'll have you know, i've won many tournaments against your cabin.`

iwaizumi rolled his eyes. `yeah, because you always cheat and sneak over to athena's group.`

`i don't cheat! and i don't have to sneak over to athena's group, i have a place there you know!` oikawa shrieked, whipping out a dagger and pointing it at iwaizumi threateningly. however, the latter remained unphased, which pissed the brunette off even more.

`yeah. sure, and what's that?` iwaizumi said, letting one of his eyebrows raise. if rules served him correctly, there was no teaming allowed in any game at camp half-blood, unless stated otherwise. however, he always saw oikawa with athena's group, but he let it slide, thinking the ares' cabin would win anyways. he was, unfortunately, very wrong.

oikawa blinked. `are you stupid? athena's my mother.`

`huh?` the son of ares' stepped back a bit, glaring at the other. `you- athena's son? but- you're-`

`pretty? yeah, i get that a lot.` oikawa sheathed his dagger, stretching out his muscles. `people mistake me for the son of aphrodite way too much. it's kind of annoying, actually. there's a lot more to me than my face,` he mused, glaring at iwaizumi. `looks like you're no different from the rest of them. shame. i actually took a liking to you.`

the other stood there, unmoving, confusion lining every forehead wrinkle. `what are you saying? there's no way-`

oikawa sighed. `i should've known you were going to be hard to convince. look, i'm the son of athena, and the current ruler of the cabin. if you don't believe me, ask my cabin mates. they'll tell you.`

`then who the hell's trashing my cabin?` iwaizumi seethed, still not convinced by oikawa's truths.

the latter let out a melodic laugh. `i thought that was obvious. i saw some of hermes' cabin sneak out to yours during lunch. makes sense, they're always trying to pull pranks on everyone and see their reactions. yours was most likely the best one of them all.` oikawa smiled, his eyes twinkling as he walked away. `well, while it was fun talking to you, i have to go. it's getting dark, and i'd rather not get caught being out past curfew.`

iwaizumi looked up to the sky to find out that he was, in fact, right. the sky was slowly darkening, the sun almost disappearing at the horizon. the green-eyed demigod let out a sigh, turning to glare at oikawa, to find out he was long gone.

`..damn it!`

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

`can you believe he's even athena's cabin ruler?` takahiro hanamaki muttered lowly to his fellow cabin mate, issei matsukawa, who also stood in front of a very emotional toorū oikawa. he had been ranting about how he was sick of everyone mistaking him for a son of aphrodite, and when his cabin mate shigeru yahaba said it could've been a compliment, the hysterics had gotten even worse.

fortunately, the 18-year-old had tired himself out, and was now resorting to laying on his bed and blinking the tears out of his eyes.

matsukawa sighed. `no. i can't. not when he's like this.`

`i can hear you, 'ya know.` oikawa muttered, tear-filled chocolate brown eyes turning to them accusingly. `you can't even act like you're tired of me, you just got here.`

`true,` hanamaki replied, kneeling down next to his dear friend. `but according to yahaba, you've been complaining about this for the past forty-five minutes. don't you think that's a tad bit excessive?`

oikawa sat up abruptly. `no! well- maybe. but it's so stupid!` he exclaimed, fists furrowing in his fluffy brown locks. `i don't act like aphrodite at all! i don't even look like her, but i'm pretty and that's the only reason people need to lump me in with that cabin. i actually liked iwa. of course, he's just like the rest.`

`oh.` matsukawa snapped his fingers, pointing at oikawa. `he's the guy who rescued kiyo and takeru, right?`

the brunette shuddered. `right. that memory just gives me chills.` he thought back to that day, where a gorgon had came across oikawa while he was taking his sister and nephew shopping. the gorgon smelled him, and realized he was a son of athena, and attacked the group, leaving oikawa bruised and bloodied while he took kiyo and takeru as prisoners. however, a group of demigods from camp half-blood on a quest sensed the violence occurring, and rushed to the scene as quick as possible. iwaizumi was amongst the group, but he had taken off after the gorgon, and didn't get a good look at oikawa's face.

when the group returned to camp, oikawa had made the khopesh iwaizumi had sported, and left it on his bed while he was out training with his cabin mates. he also left a thank-you note, but didn't sign it, hoping to leave his identity anonymous.

`yeah, why don't you just tell him that you're a relative to kiyo and takeru? the whole camp knows about that quest, so if iwaizumi knows your identity, everyone else will too. people won't mistake you for a descendant of aphrodite anymore,` hanamaki supplied, reaching into the tupperware of ambrosia oikawa was given (he had started a fight with kyōtani from ares' cabin to relieve his stress- both parties sporting the same amount of cuts and bruises) and popping a bit into his mouth.

oikawa shrugged, snatching back the tupperware before hanamaki could steal any more. if a demigod ate too much of the sweet, healing treat, they could get extremely sick. `yeah, maybe. but,` oikawa grinned, turning to his two friends that stood by his bedside, `beating him at capture-the-flag tomorrow sounds way more fun.`

the two boys sighed, smiling at the sight of their best friend with a much happier mood. capture-the-flag with demigods was always a very violent and extreme sport, but all cabins ended up having a lot of fun playing the game. and, no matter what side the athena cabin was on, they always ended up winning. no one could remember a time where they lost.

beating the ares' cabin was going to be a piece of cake for oikawa.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

`you seem on edge, iwaizumi.` ushijima had muttered to the demigod, taking a seat beside the other. they were currently stationed in the middle of the forest, with the job of guarding the red flag. `do you want to talk about it?`

iwaizumi glanced at his companion. under the absolutely atrocious battle helmet was a look of concern and worry for his friend. the dark-haired demigod let out a sigh, nodding slightly. `yeah. i'm just.. shaken up, i guess.`

`how so?`

`well..` iwaizumi pondered, trying to figure out the best words and phrases to lay his point across. `i pissed off one of the sons' of aphrodite here, because apparently, he's the son of athena, and not aphrodite. like, what the fuck? the dude even acts like the deviled spawn of her, so i don't understand why he's so pressed.`

ushijima nodded, listening intently. `you mean toorū oikawa, right?`

iwaizumi gaped. `how the hell did you know that?`

`i made the same mistake you did, thinking he was a descendant of aphrodite.` ushijima mused, looking up to the sky. the clouds reflected in his olive-coloured eyes, but were less noticeable than the clouds reflecting in oikawa's eyes. `when he had first came to camp half-blood, he was called weak by one of our cabin-mates. he challenged him to a duel and won. i then told him he should have been a descendant of ares, not one of aphrodite. he would have a rightful place here, with us.`

`oh? what'd he say, then?`

the olive-haired demigod shuddered. `he slapped me. very hard. and then yelled at me, saying he was a son of athena, not aphrodite. he apparently doesn't like being addressed as a child of aphrodite.`

a sharp wolf-whistle came from the trees. ushijima and iwaizumi stood up, quickly switching to a fighting stance. iwaizumi clenched his khopesh as the figure who was listening to their whole conversation emerged from the trees.

and of course, it was fucking oikawa.

`y-you?` iwaizumi shouted, almost dropping his weapon. `how long were you there?`

the brunette stretched, calm despite the fact that a sword and a khopesh were both aiming at his chest. `i heard the whole conversation. i've been watching you two for quite some time, now.`

ushijima stepped forward as to greet oikawa, but faltered. his eyes widened, and he turned around. leaning on the flag they were supposed to protect was a silver-haired male holding a celestial-bronze axe. his honey-brown eyes met ushijima's olive-green ones, and a corrupt smile split his face. `finally. you noticed me. i was wondering how to get your attention.`

iwaizumi turned around to see the second attacker, letting out an almost animalistic growl. `it's a fucking ambush.`

`correct~` oikawa mused, taking out his dagger and smiling at the other. `however, suga-chan isn't allowed to touch you. i wanted to do all the dirty work myself.`

the silver-haired demigod nodded. `my only purpose here is to take the flag once oikawa defeats you. he requested to fight you both at the same time.`

oikawa nodded, flicking a little switch on his dagger iwaizumi hadn't noticed before. as soon as he did so, he dropped the dagger, and it extended into a much longer weapon. the other demigod scanned it, recognizing the weapon to be a scythe. 'suga-chan' smiled at the sight, meeting iwaizumi's questioning eyes. `you guys better be prepared. he hasn't lost a duel since he came here.`

the brunette nodded, pointing at ushijima with a smile before lunging at the demigod. before the latter could even react, oikawa had connected his foot with ushijima's abdomen, sending the demigod flying. he landed on his back with a gasp, having the air knocked out of him. iwaizumi's eyes widened- he hadn't even been able to react either. that was how fast oikawa was.

ushijima sat up quickly, blocking oikawa's attack with his sword. the other demigod smiled sweetly, twisting the scythe and yanking ushijima's sword out of his hand. it landed in the dirt a couple yards away.

iwaizumi growled, running at oikawa with his khopesh up high. the brunette turned around, unamused, sidestepping iwaizumi's attack and tapping at the end of his weapon. the khopesh hissed and groaned, a net pooling out from the back end, trapping iwaizumi in the knots. the demigod gasped, writhing around in the trap. `wh-what the hell?`

`you seem to be confused. could it be,` oikawa laughed, `that you didn't even know that was there?`

`s-shut up! how the hell did you know anyways?`

oikawa deadpanned. `i made the stupid thing. i think i would know every little thing there is to know about it.`

the dark-haired son of ares stared at his attacker, watching as he stalked over to suga and ripped the flag out of the ground. the brunette turned and smiled sweetly at his victims, waving. `well, see you.`

the two demigods sprinted off, laughing at the shouts coming from behind them.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

`i can't believe him!` iwaizumi kicked the boulder, ignoring the pain from doing so. `he's so fucking insufferable! but i can't even do anything about it, because apparently he made this stupid weapon-` he waved the khopesh in the air, `-and i have to be grateful, but he's making it so goddamn hard!`

kyōtani glanced at the demigod, popping another piece of ambrosia in his mouth. he was still recovering from his fight with oikawa earlier. `you didn't know he made that for you? i thought it was obvious.`

the other glared at his cabin mate, confusion in his eyes. `what do you mean?`

`well,` kyōtani chewed the left over ambrosia in his mouth and swallowed, before continuing. `i'm pretty sure he has a crush on you, or something. he's been watching your duels ever since he came back with your group.`

`what group?`

`the quest you had a while ago.` kyōtani muttered under his breath, probably ridiculing iwaizumi. `you saved his sister and nephew from a gorgon. remember that?`

iwaizumi deadpanned, the memories all but flooding back to him now. `that was him?`

`that was him.`

`so he really is a son of athena?`

kyōtani nodded.

`..fuck, i'm an idiot.`

`i know.`

─── demigods.

[minhoslut]

♡ summary: Reader is traded to a band of pirates in return for the safety of her village because of her plant magic. They are not like she expected, much more like her than she could even imagine in fact. This is a journey through their relationships and the high seas they sail on.

♡ pairing: superm x fem!reader, superm x eachother

♡ chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | ? |

♡ series warnings: blood mention, injury mention, swearing, anxiety, death mention, depression, weapons, mxm

♡ series genre: romance, smut, angst

♡ series rating: Mature

♡ word count: 2261

♡ posted on: AO3

♡ chapter four: ice cold

Baekhyun returned with the entirety of the main crew whom you'd met, all of them taking a seat on various lower bunks, avoiding you beside Taemin, while the captain stop at the doorway. "It seems that hiding information was not the correct course of action. It was meant to soothe you rather than cause more harm." Jongin began slowly, watching your reaction carefully. "How could I be happy on a boat like this with a bunch of pirates? You took me from my home!" You huff, what kind of stupid logic was that. "Well, we were looking for you to complete our crew." You stared at him blankly, "What do you mean complete? How am I supposed to fit in here?" Jongin smiled, "Well if you stopped interrupting me, I could tell you." You snapped your mouth shut and he continued, "Good girl, now as I was saying, you were sought after rather than just randomly taken. All of us, in this room, are like you, we each have a power." What? How could that be? You were cursed, did they meet the same fate? You were nearly bursting with questions but you figured he would explain more if you said nothing. "Baekhyun is water, Taeyong is animals, Lucas is metal, Ten is fire, Mark is crafting, Taemin is light, and finally I am weather." You looked at each of them as Jongin listed off their powers, eyes landing back on the man speaking in the end. "Our powers are quite helpful in our trading business, it's the reason we all have such odd hair as well."

Not able to hold it back anymore you blurt out a question, "Ok, but what does that have to do with me? And I'd hardly call you traders your pirates for fucks sake." Jongin smirked. "You are the eighth person with powers such as ours. For many years we were under the impression there were no others until we heard rumour of you. I'm sorry that we took you from your home but I have a feeling that you didn't have many ties there other than, based on your power, a garden." It was annoying how accurate he was in his analysis, and the stupid smirk on his face made it more annoying since he knew you couldn't say anything. "As for trading, we have different ways of going about our trading, but we trade with mostly other pirates anyway, on pirate ports. We simply don't wait to trade for valuable or rare things when we could just take it from those who are not pirates." You narrow your eyes, "So you're looking down on everyone who isn't a pirate? You think you can ruin peoples lives just because?" Jongin shook his head at your words, "We would never steal from a good person or someone without much to give. Think more like kings and palaces that have many jewels for no reason, we simply take them away to be used." You scoffed, it was a stupid excuse, but they were pirates so you didn't expect them to see how wrong it was. "Regardless, I didn't want to come." You snap. Mark rolled his eyes and gave an annoyed sighed, "That's why we just took you dumbass."

"Mark." Jongin shot the smaller man a sharp look, which silenced him immediately, leaving him pouting like a puppy. "It's unfortunate that we had to take you, but there wasn't really a way for us to ask you to join, we have a reputation to uphold." You shook your head in disbelief, they were really going to brush it off just like that. "Y/N, I know it's hard to understand but we all have our reasons..." Taemin said, his hand still rubbing gentle circles on your back. You sighed, at least they were being honest now but you still felt angry about the situation. "It's not home yet, but hopefully you find yourself able to relax here eventually. I'd like to tell you to not go anywhere alone, I trust the men in this room, but the rest of the crew can be, less pleasant." Jongin said, bringing your attention back to him.

"This will never be my home, this is a prison. I still hate my magic and I still hate it here. I still hate all of you." Your sharp words filled the room with ice. "That may be the case, but maybe we can teach you more about your powers and you could hate them less." Baekhyun said, sadness lacing his voice as he looked at you. Regret bubbled in your heart despite your minds protest. "Regardless of everything, you are here now and we will keep you safe and healthy while you're with us." Jongin said firmly, then he called for Mark to leave with him, leaving you with the five other men in a very uncomfortable silence.

"Taemin, could help me up on my bed please?" You asked softly, thoroughly exhausted by your tears and the conversation. Your mind was racing with all the information, trying to process it and sort it out in your head. "Of course." Taemin said, standing and interlocking his hands and offering you a step up onto the bed. Once you are on the bed, you pull the blanket over your body and curl up into a ball in the farthest corner. Everything about this situation is hurting you, and none of them seem to understand that.

You listen to the hushed whispers of the crew after they assume you've fallen asleep, you can tell they are talking about you because you hear the words 'plant' and 'girl.' Tears fell from your eyes as you curled even deeper into yourself, you didn't want to be here anymore, not on this ship, not on this Earth.

~

When you woke up the next morning the cabin was empty save for Ten who was sitting on Marks bed reading a book. You sat up, wrapping yourself in the blanket. "You're up? Do you want to get food?" The maroon haired man asked you, his voice gentle. Shaking your head you laid back down and stared at the ceiling, listening to the door shut behind Ten as he left to get food for himself. After a few moments of quiet, you sat up once more and carefully hopped off the bed. You thought of last night when the captain had told you not to leave alone, but you couldn't stand to be in the room any longer. Pulling the door open you headed to the main deck, finding it almost empty since most of the crew was eating. You walked straight to the edge of the ship and leaned over the side to watch the waves crash against the boat.

The ocean had always scared you, even before you'd been cursed. You avoided it as much as you could when you'd lived on the island, never learning to swim and spending your time as far inland as you could while still doing your work. The ocean was loud and dark and vast, a never-ending abyss of huge waves, dangerous storms, and creatures unknown. And now here you were, in the middle of that horrible ocean, staring into the darkness of the waters and feeling the salty air chill as the clouds ahead turned dark. You leaned farther over the edge stepping on tiptoe, the mist of ocean spray covering your skin. Breathing in deeply you lean even farther, nearly unbalanced as the ocean looms ever closer.

"Y/N!" A voice shouts your name and you are yanked away from the edge of the ship in a hurry. You scramble to pull out of the grip of the person who is holding you, but they simply turn you in their grasp. Lucas' dark brown eyes stared into your own as you relax in his hold now that you know it's not a random crew member. "What were you doing you could have fallen in?" Lucas sounded genuinely worried about your safety and you felt like a small child being chastised. "I was just thinking." You said softly, looking away from his eyes. Lucas sighed, "You aren't supposed to go around alone anyway, you should have come to the dining hall to get one of us. You knew we were there." You huff, "Wouldn't that still be going somewhere alone? Where's the logic in that." Lucas stares at you a moment before he begins to laugh. It's a loud and boisterous laugh that has you trying to conceal the smile that is twitching at your lips. "Well, let's get you to Baekhyun, it's his turn to have you shadow him."

You sighed, not looking forward to it. Baekhyun had sounded so sad last time you'd seen him and you had a feeling that would carry over to today. You shouldn't be so concerned for one of the men who kidnapped you but you couldn't help it. Following the tall man, you reached the captains quarters where Lucas knocked lightly. You heard shuffling in the room and then the door was opened by Baekhyun who was doing up the buttons on his shirt. His eyes flitted to yours for an instance but you saw the sadness that they held. "We are headed to the maps room today, checking our distance for the next port." Baekhyun said plainly, then started walking away quickly, making you run slightly to catch up with him. It was silent as you walked, observing the blue-haired man as he walked ahead of you. He held himself with confidence and a sense of power, his shoulders set and head held high, subtly commanding the respect of those around him.

You soon reached a small room with a large desk in the center, that was covered in many pieces of parchment and some strange objects you didn't recognize. Baekhyun gestured to one of the chairs that were in the room so you sat in it while he moved the things on the desk around. We should be nearing port in the next day or so, so I need to make sure we are where we should be." He explained, but there was no real emotion in his voice. You sat quietly while he used the strange tools and held them against the maps, comparing lengths in ways that made absolutely no sense to you. Baekhyun made no attempts at conversing with you, and it wasn't in the way a person would when they are overly focused. It was an empty drawn-out silence that you hated. He must be really upset about last night... Your heart twinged at the thought. "Baekhyun?" You tried cautiously, but you were ignored. "Baekhyun?" You said again, a bit stronger but still no response. "Baek-" - "Y/N I don't want to talk ok?" You snapped your mouth shut, feeling hurt by the cold words.

The rest of the day was spent watching Baekhyun check the map and then following him out onto the main deck while he made sure everyone was doing what was needed to prepare for docking the next day. He hadn't spoken a word to you since he'd said not to talk, and you'd given up on trying since the silence hurt less than the words did at least. In the evening it was mealtime again, but you still didn't want anything, the day with Baekhyun had only added to the turmoil inside of you and made your appetite disappear. You tried to go to the room but Baekhyun had given a stern look before nodding his head towards the table so in the end you were sitting at the table beside Taeyong and Jongin at the head as usual. Taeyong had apparently lost at seat picking since he ended up beside you, you could hear him mumbling under his breath when he'd sat down.

You focused on your hands in your lap during the meal, picking at the skin around your nails. "/N? Y/N!" You looked up at the person saying your name and found Ten waving his hand in front of you. "You haven't eaten today." He stated plainly, "Not hungry." You answered simply, returning your gaze to your now bleeding cuticles. "Come back to the room with me then, we have an early morning together." Ten said, standing up and walking towards the door. You must be shadowing him tomorrow, so you got up and went after him. He led you to a room you hadn't been in yet that was filled with bandages and had a simple cot in it. "Hands." He said and you held them out to him. Ten made a clicking noise with his tongue then grabbed a roll of cloth and wrapped each of your fingers with it. "There, now you won't make them any worse." He said returning the leftover cloth to a shelf. "Thanks..." You said softly, feeling embarrassed by having someone care for your injury

Ten turned on his heel and exited the room, so you did as well, making your way back to the bunks. Ten gave you a step up onto your bed before heading over to his, but before he got up he removed his shirt putting the smooth expanse of his skin on display to you. You felt your cheeks warm as you watched the muscles in his back move, quickly turning your head when Ten had jumped up on his bed and turned to face you. "Sleep well." You heard him say softly before the room was enveloped in silence.

[pathogenic]

Knight of Enbarr

A self insert fic

[[MORE]]

Hubert's nose crinkled as he looked down from the balcony that he and the rest of the royals of the Imperial House sat. "Lady Edelgard, are you certain this is a good idea? Is my protection not enough?" He asked. He loathed the idea of having to work with enough to ensure the Crown Princess' safety.

"Hubert, it's not my choice." Edelgard reminded her retainer as she carefully leaned against the balcony. She had not yet recovered from her journey back from the Kingdom of Faerghus. "Besides the additional help would be nice."

"Still, I cannot help but feel this is a slight towards my abilities." He sighed. He was unable to stop Lord Arundel and now these were the consequences - he couldn't help but feel frustrated and that he failed the Vestra name to some degree. Still, Edelgard laid a hand on his shoulder. 

"I still have plenty of faith in you, this is just to ensure nothing like… that happens again." She reassured. Hubert gave a sigh through his nose as he looked back down. The fights would begin soon.

For weeks there had been a call for any warrior to test their metal against each other to serve the Crown Princess. Many had entered. The preliminary fights, from what the two of them had heard, were quick, but those who made it through showed great promise. Now it was time for the final tourney.

Hubert's eyes carefully watched the knights and warriors that came into the arena. He would lean over and whisper to Edelgard all that he saw; strengths, weaknesses, who wasn't fighting as honest as others. His keen eyes also noted the armor and their weapons. 

Though he could not see their faces, many of them came from more wealthy families as well. The fine shine of their armor and sturdy wooden in their weapons suggested such. However, there were a handful still that had to be from a lower class. It impressed the young noble that they made it as far as they did. 

The two had to admit that the fights were dull at first. Obvious differences in skill often made for poor entertainment. However, as they reached the last few brackets, even Hubert found himself on the edge of his seat. Some of the more excitable nobles had already picked their favorites and cheered and cried loudly along with the fights.

At last, the final round had come and the arena was practically in a frenzy as the Herald stepped onto the field.

"My lords and ladies!" He called, quieting down the excitement. "I present to you the final round! From this fight we will finally see who is truly worthy to serve our Princess Edelgard von Hresvelg and preserve the future of our great empire!" He motioned to a taller knight with a tower shield. Upon it was painted three roses on a black background. His armor was of well crafted metal, his weapon was a solid polearm.

"From our capital, Enbarr, I present you you Sir Domenik!" The herald called. Some of the nobles cheered, many commoners did. He then motioned to the shorter knight. Hubert could not make out much. Their helmet had chainmail that came over their neck, a shield with a wolf painted on it, and more shoddy armor. Despite that, her axe was certainly the best part of her set. Hubert could see the great care that went into.

"From the outskirts of our own Empire comes Haydes!" He called. The lack of title still made Hubert curious, and the name told him little about the stranger in the rink. 

"Lay on!" The Herald called as he moved out of the way. Hubert watched as Haydes continued to use the same tactics as usual. They normally player defensive and let the larger knights come to them. It wasn't a bad strategy, he figured. Charging someone taller than you rarely went well. 

He watches as the knight finally moved in. Between the reach he naturally had and the length of the polearm, he found it easy to stab from a long distance, but it seemed to be what Haydes was betting on. With a quick slash, they split the center of the polearm. With the knight now disarmed, they moved in and went for a swing, catching the tower shield instead. The two disengaged. Domenik moved in to grab the end of his polearm, rearming himself. It was a far less effective arm, but a knight should be able to adjust. 

The next move Domenik moved in once more. Haydee changed to a more aggressive approach, holding their axe above their shield. Domenik went to hit that instead, thinking they were moving in to strike, but instead Haydes took the momentum of the hit to let the weapon swing around their head. As the axe made it behind her, she crouched and popped back up as the axe finished it's rotation, making it aroikd his shield and catching his helmet.

Hubert watched closely as the knight dropped his shield. The axe had cut through the helmet, the fight was over. "My," He said to Edelgard, "it seems we have a champion."

"I recognize that move." Edelgard informed. "I bet you they learned from one of our previous knights. Still…" She tilted her head. "If it is the one I think it is, I wonder how they convince him to even train someone who isn't of noble birth."

"Hm." Hubert hummed, narrowing his eyes. "Perhaps we can discuss that over dinner." He watched as the one called Haydes relaxed. They reached up and pulled at the helmet. Short brown hair spilled out, stuck mostly to their face from sweat from all the fighting. She held up her axe in victory as the Herald called out for the end of the tournament. Edelgard's knight had been found.

The tournament ended in a feast, the noble families were in good spirits after watching all those fights. Hubert's father, Marquis Vestra and Count Bergliez had endured the newly made knight found her quarters in the castle and visited the blacksmith to ensure she had good armor and arms to serve the princess before arriving to the dinner.

Hubert noted how the poor woman looked out of place amongst the nobility, listening to their stories and answering questions when asked. He approached her, silent and quick, however she seemed to see him at the last second and looked over at him. 

"Hello." She said. "Can I help you?"

"That was an impressive performance out there." He said. "I must be honest, I expected the trained knight to win, not a stranger who is barely a part of the Empire."

She shook her head. "I couldn't lose." She said. "I trained too hard to let myself lose." He wasn't sure whether he liked that answer or not.

"Oh?" He said, keeping a pleasant appearance for now. "You made it to the final round. Wouldn't that be reward enough?"

"No, I have debts to pay. There is nothing to be gained by reaching the finish line and not crossing it." She answered. Well, he couldn't argue with that.

"Who are these debts with? Since you serve Edelgard directly, perhaps something could be arranged?" He asked.

"The knight who trained me and my village for helping me pay for the vast majority of what I owe that knight." She answered.

"And who is this knight?" Hubert asked. He felt a bit concerned that she was so forthcoming.

"Oh, he was an old guard for Emperor Ionius IX." She said. "Sir Alderin." Yes, Hubert knew the name, he was there when he retired.

"You are awfully forthcoming with information. That can be dangerous." How could she not know this? She looked to be Hubert's age, if not a little older.

"Are you not Hubert von Vestra?" She asked. He felt stunned for a moment. "House Vestra, from what I've been told, is very good at finding and using information. As heir of the house and my future college, it feels pointless to his from you."

"Hm, perhaps." He answered, smirking a bit. "I suppose you are right that I would find out eventually. Still, I hope that you'll learn to tighten those lips for everyone except Lady Edelgard and I. I'd hate to have to put the call for another knight so soon."

"Oh, you have my word. You shouldn't have to worry about that." She reassured.

"Time will tell." Hubert said. "Do enjoy the dinner, it was made to celebrate your victory after all."

There was something he had to admit. When Haydes said she'd do something, she was dead serious about it. Hubert could hardly recall a problem with her spilling information and she was exceptionally good at keeping Edelgard safe.

Hubert couldn't figure out why he was fixated on her and her performance as he worked to pack his bags. He and Edelgard were to leave for the Monastery soon. It was regrettable that she would not be joining them, he supposed he would miss her company, but it worked out to their advantage to have her stay in Enbarr.

He paused as he heard a knock at the door. "Come in." He called. He watched the knob turn as Haydes herself entered. "Oh? To what do I owe this pleasure?"

She shuffled her feet a bit with her hands behind her back. Hubert narrowed his eyes. This nervous behavior wasn't typical of their interactions. He had to wonder what exactly was going through her head. "I have a request to make of you, Hubert. … And a parting gift."

"Go on." He said, crossing his arms. 

"I want you to write to me while you and Lady Edelgard are at the Monastery. I want to know how things are going for the both of you and if there is anything I can do to help you both. I'll already be sending reports to you to keep you both posted, but I'm… Well, I'm going to miss you both." She admitter. Odd, Hubert couldn't recall anytime when someone said they were going to miss his presence. He felt embarrassed at the fact that his cheeks felt warm.

"That… can be arranged, certainly." He answered. "Was that all you wanted to ask of me?" He asked. She gave a quick nod.

"As for the gift…" She moved so she could reveal the wrapped box she had hidden behind her back. Hubert tilted his head as he accepted the box from her, pulling it open. He opened the lid and looked inside. It was a package of quality coffee beans, a press for him to make coffee from, as well as a couple of books.

"Just a little bit of home, you know?" She said, rubbing the back of her neck.

"They're wonderful, thank you." He said, his voice came out softer than he expected. "They'll certainly be of use." He watched as she relaxed into a wide smile.

"I'll let you finish packing. I hope you and Lady Edelgard have a safe journey." She moved to leave the room. Hubert watched her go before looking back at the gift. He smiled before he shook his head. She was an odd one.