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btsinwonderland · 3 years

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A Drop of Poison - Ch. 13: Hogsmeade

A Loki fanfiction!

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It was a brisk fall morning where the first chill of the coming winter snuck up on you. You wrapped your scarf around your neck tighter and yawned. Another restless night passed with terrifying dreams of Fenris and the bloodbath he left behind him.

You stood in a loose huddle of several students outside the entrance doors to the school. There was the sound of chitchat in the air as you all waited for the teachers. The trees swayed in the wind and a yellowing leaf fell in a spiral and landed on your shoulder. Valkyrie walked over to you with a smile on her face as you brushed off the leaf. It faded slightly upon looking at you.

“Are you okay?” she said, watching you.

You nodded with another yawn. “Bad dreams.”

“Dreams...or something else?”

You might have answered her but were cut off when Pom and Nila came up to the both of you. They had excited smiles on their faces.

“I can’t believe we finally get to go to Hogsmeade!” Pom said with a smile.

Nila agreed exuberantly. “I’ve been itching to go to Honeydukes!”

Valkyrie raised a brow. “Don’t forget we have the ball on Wednesday night, ladies. I, for one, am planning on gettin’ some before everything goes to shit.”

Pom looked at Valkyrie wide eyed while Nila blushed. “Getting what?” Pom said.

You and Valkyrie snort-laughed and Nila started giggling. Pom continued to ask Valkyrie what she was talking about when Professor Heimdall and Professor Fandral arrived at the top of the stairs.

Professor Heimdall wore a long tan cloak over his robes and clasped his hands in front of him. “Students, you will be split off into two groups. One with me and one with Professor Fandral. We are incorporating a buddy system, so pick a partner and do not separate from them. This year we were not planning to go to Hogsmeade, but upon reviewing many requests and with careful planning, we believe it is acceptable. What is not acceptable,” he said, passing a look to each student; his eyes lingered on you briefly, “is to leave your buddy, or your group and venture off alone. The grounds are no longer as safe as they were before. Be wise.”

He said no more as Professor Fandral began to split the groups. You, Valkyrie, Nila and Pom excitedly climbed into a carriage, which eventually trailed behind Professor Heimdall’s. His warning stayed with you as you thought about long teeth and hungry eyes. Despite the fear that had permanently settled in the pit of your stomach, you enjoyed feeling the fresh air on your skin as the carriages took off. The wind was cold, but you had not realized how stifling it was in the castle until you had been outside.

You wondered what a carriage ride with Professor Laufeyson would be like. A blush creeped to your cheeks when you thought about detention with him from a couple of nights ago. The word ‘master’ rested on your lips like a secret behind everything else you said out loud. It was just for him. That night, you went back to your room in a heated daze and wondered what you had gotten yourself into. But the more you thought about it, the more your heart raced with want. You enjoyed calling him master, and you liked the way he looked at you when you did.

“What is going on in that head of yours?” Valkyrie said, elbowing you.

You jerked upright and smiled bashfully. “Nothing, I’m just thinking about what to wear.”

Just then, Pom and Nila deep dived into their clothing assessments and what was in season versus not. You absolutely had no idea how they had obtained this information, but appreciated the feedback. After a long lecture about colour coordination and matching shoes and accessories while balancing complementary colour contrast, the carriages finally arrived at Hogsmeade.

The four of you stuck together and plowed your way through Hogsmeade in a thorough fashion. First you visited Honeydukes, which was decorated completely in black for the season; it was as if the whole shop were dipped in an inkwell. Nila bought an entire bag worth of chocolate frogs, Burtie Botts, every flavour beans, blood pops (to which you wrinkled your nose), and cauldron cakes. Valkyrie bought bouncing bubbly which was a soft drink that made her bounce as if she was on the moon. The novelty wore off quickly since Valkyrie quite enjoyed bouncing above you and smacking your head. You were relieved once you entered Gladrags; there was a strict no enchantment policy and Valkyrie had to stand outside until the effects wore off. The three of you snickered and gave her a mock wave through the window. As she bounced in place, she mouthed: “I could murder you in your sleep, you know.”

You laughed and walked into the store, looking at the various fabrics and clothes they had on display. There were enchanted mannequins walking through the store and dancing every now and again for the customers. A small girl tugged at her father’s coat and pointed to a model just a few inches taller than her. Its face was a flat piece of wood and the thing danced around the girl, doing a pirouette with the bright green dress it was wearing along the way. The girl was mesmerised. You smiled and had to give credit to Gladrags; they knew how to market.

Pom and Nila immediately ran to the hats section where there were shelves upon shelves of all sorts of hats. Plumes of feathers stuck to the side of a large orange hat, while another was a green beret seemingly constructed of snakeskin. One hat seemed to have no set shape or colour, but was a fluid moving thing that sparkled when the light hit it. All the hats were magnificent, though you were never much of a hat person. You went to the back, near the sale items, to see if there was anything that you could afford. It had been quite a year gathering enough money to meet your supplies and tuition costs for the year. You hoped that once you aced all your exams, a scholarship or internship could be earned. Though once you saw Professor Laufeyson’s memories, your thoughts about joining the ministry were on pause.

As if the devil himself heard, you heard a familiar voice from your left.

“Good morning, Miss Eves,” Professor Laufeyson said.

You flinched, nearly knocking over a nearby twirling mannequin which actually hissed at you. “Professor! What are you doing here?”

His eyes narrowed, and he looked as if you had committed a grave mistake. “What was that?”

“I-” You thought about it for a moment. Ah yes….your voice got lower, “Master, what are you doing here?”

He lit up and smiled at you. You wondered if you would ever get used to that.

“I have some business to attend to,” he said.

It was hard not to roll your eyes at how insanely cryptic he was. You were about to question further, but Valkyrie came.

“Professor! Fancy seeing you here,” she said, looking between you and him. You tried to put on your most neutral expression.

“Hogsmeade used to be quite the haunt for me when I was a student here,” Professor Laufeyson said, glancing out the window. “I particularly enjoyed Zonko’s. Well, are you young ladies finding dresses for the ball?”

“Yes!” Pom said from behind a rack of clothes. “And we found the perfect one for you, Freya,” she said, bringing out a frilly dark purple dress that had a mermaid style bottom and an attached cloak that looked more like a cape.

Valkyrie gasped with laughter when you took the dress and promised Pom you would try it on. You thanked her and elbowed Valkyrie. Professor Laufeyson looked as if he was trying to conceal a small smile.

The other girls left in a mad dash when Nila spotted a row of silk scarves that were on sale. Valkyrie went with them, giving you a strange look that showed you would be interrogated very soon.

“You better go try on that aubergine of a dress,” Professor Laufeyson said with a smirk.

You laughed. “I think I’m going to go with my outfit from last year,” you said, putting the purple nightmare back on the rack. “These new fashion trends are getting out of hand, they’re not for me.”

Professor Laufeyson grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him. Your heart raced as he held your face in his hand. You prayed no one saw you. “Nothing here could do justice to the body underneath these clothes,” he said, his voice husky. Just as you leaned in towards him, he pulled away. You made the tiniest annoyed sound, and he chuckled.

He said goodbye, and you joined up with the girls to continue on their shopping spree. Nila had gotten a peach coloured dress that had a tight waist and billowing skirt. Pom got a short purple dress that was clean cut and cute. Valkyrie got a crimson dress that had a courageous slit down the side and a neckline that wound around her neck in a halter top. Your stomachs rumbled loudly, so the four of you headed into the Three Broomsticks, a pub down the road. Since Hogsmeade knew well that Hogwarts students were coming in today, they allowed minors into the pub.

You sat at a table and were surprised to see Professor Laufeyson sitting rather reluctantly with Professor Heimdall and Professor Fandral. They did not see the four of you slip into the booth just behind them, a wall between you. There was enough chatter in the pub to conceal your voices, though you kept it down just enough to hear what the teachers were saying.

Someone cleared their throat. You recognized Heimdall’s voice; it was rich and deep. “Loki, how is your semester going so far?”

Professor Laufeyson’s voice was effortless, as usual. “Teaching is such a noble profession, I ought to have tried it much earlier in life.”

“You were missing from the staff meeting last Saturday,” Heimdall said. His words asked without stating explicitly, why?

Professor Laufeyson let out a small laugh. “I had to drop everything and come here after Hubert’s passing, so when I can I must tie up some loose ends.”

“What might Loki Laufeyson’s loose ends be, I wonder?” Heimdall said, his voice low.

The server came by and dropped off drinks at their table. He then came to your table and took your orders. The other girls had lost interest at this point and began chatting, but you craned your neck to the edge of the wall to keep listening.

“...yes, I will be in and out after the ball. Business to attend to before we dive head first into midterms,” Professor Laufeyson said.

He was leaving? You wondered. He had told you he would not go after Fenris until the coldest night of winter, and you believed that. Your fingers tapped nervously, thinking about what else he was up to. Aside from seeing him in class and detention, you had no way of knowing where he was or what he was doing. It was not as if he was even remotely communicative about his life. The most you knew about him was from breaking into his memory bank like a thief in the night.

The conversation shifted to Professor Fandral talking about his wife and children and how difficult it was to leave them for semesters at a time. Eventually, their chairs shuffled and the four of you put your heads down and ate your meals. Your shepherd’s pie had gone cold but was still quite delicious.

About an hour later, you were back in the school, heading to your common room, evading Valkyrie so she would not ask you about Professor Laufeyson. You were just not ready to have any sort of proper conversation about it yet. You had no idea what was happening, and a part of you felt immensely guilty about the whole thing. At least if it was your personal secret, you could chalk it up to a delusion or dream and still function properly. But once you verbalized it, it was real. Far too real for anything you wanted to deal with now.

In the hall, you spotted a ghostly figure running towards you. Well, half of a ghostly figure. The legs and torso of Crazy Collin ran past you in a gust of cool air. A few minutes later, you saw the upper part floating by.

“‘Ave you seen me legs?” he said. His translucent face was even younger than you.

You pointed behind you. “They went that way.” You smiled as he waved at you and floated onwards in search of his legs. He was always found roaming the halls searching for the bottom half of his body, and it was a fun game that occupied most first years, helping Crazy Collin find his legs.

Suddenly, you thought about Pom’s brother Ken, who now had a missing arm, and your smile disappeared. Most of the time you had laughed at the ghosts of Hogwarts, but you realized they were all people once who had died an awful death. The thought both sobered and saddened you.

***

The next day you were seated in potions class with Pom next to you, taking notes on the use of a bezoar. Professor Laufeyson had put on a slideshow and you tried not to yawn, though his voice was like melted honey.

Something hit the side of your head and fell at your feet. You glanced around before picking it up.

“What is it?” Pom whispered.

It was a crumpled piece of paper and upon unrolling it, you saw an enchanted drawing of two stick figures dancing. One of them had two circles for its breasts and an arrow pointing to the figure that said “You” and the other stick figure had an arrow that said “Me”. You looked up and saw Nathan Gill, the sixth year Quidditch announcer, smiling at you. He pointed to you, then he mimed a little slow dance, and then pointed to himself, all the while mouthing the words, “Do you want to go to the ball with me?”

The paper was snatched from your hand before you could react and you were horrified to see Professor Laufeyson standing over you with a grim expression. “Passing notes in class?” He said with a touch of venom. After reading the note aloud in class for everyone to laugh at, he took five points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

“Harsh,” Pom said, and you did not reply.

At the end of class, you escaped out the door before meeting Professor Laufeyson’s eye, since you were far too embarrassed. Then Nathan found you.

“So, Eves, you want to go with me?” He said, brandishing a daring smile.

He was a year younger than you, though he was taller and his face was not all boyish. His brown eyes held an air of confidence and his dark brown skin glowed in the torchlights. He leaned against the wall next to you, casual yet focused on your face in a way that made you blush. You wished you could seriously consider him. Perhaps if he had come to you only a month earlier, you would not be in this mess at all. A boy like him was normal. A boy like him was far better suited for you. But alas, even though you thought he was invariably handsome and were somewhat attracted to his presence, your heart was doomed to stay in one place.

You smiled at him and were about to speak when Pom piped up out of nowhere, “yes she’s gonna go with you!”

Nathan smiled so brightly that you felt the words escape you. He leaned in and tucked a hair behind your ear. “See you then,” he said in a low voice and walked off with his friends.

Just then, Professor Laufeyson passed by with an icy expression. He glanced at you and Pom as if you were stones on the wall and continued on his way, not giving you another look. Your heart sank while Pom excitedly grabbed your arm. “Oh my god, Gill is so cute! Sorry I stepped in, but I had to! I thought you were going to throw up or say no, so I did what any good friend ought to do.” She smiled at you and you nodded hollowly, wondering what Professor Laufeyson had thought.

You were on your way to the Great Hall for lunch as you puzzled about Nathan. Pom had gone to the infirmary to check on her brother. The staircase you were climbing up moved and pulled you away from your path and down an empty corridor that would add another ten minutes to your walk. A sigh escaped your lips as you continued to wonder. Why would he ask you? You barely talked to him. Once you had given him ink when he ran out, and so perhaps he was just being nice -

A hand grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you into a room you had not realized was there. The door shut and vanished, leaving only stone, and you were slammed against the wall with a hard body against yours. The familiar scent of flora and musk hit your senses, and you gazed into a pair of cold blue eyes. His hand clasped around your throat as he leaned in and spoke in your ear.

“Did you think you could get away with being such a tease?” Professor Laufeyson said, his voice was a growl.

You dropped your books and panted. “W-what do you mean sir - er, I mean - Master?”

“That boy was all over you like a dog. Did you hope to make me jealous?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said. Fear bubbled in your stomach at his aggression, but more than that was another feeling...One that was going to get you into deep trouble. Your cheeks flushed, and you felt desire bloom within you. The feeling of his hand on your throat only made it worse - or better - and you felt your core tighten.

He laughed darkly and for a moment; you wondered if it had all been a joke. Then his eyes grew fierce, and he stopped smiling. “It worked.”

You gazed up at him and licked your lips reflexively. His pupils dilated, and he lost his composure. His lips collided with yours and you felt the heat of his breath against you. They were the softest lips you had ever felt, but they crashed onto yours with a ferocity that made your knees weak. He pushed you into the wall to deepen the kiss and you wound your hands around him, one hand reaching up to the back of his head.

He moved his free hand down and cupped your bottom. You raised your right leg around his waist, which he held in place. Your tongues clashed, and you licked his lips as if you were back in a dream. He lifted your other leg, so you were now pinned against the wall, straddling him. He pushed into you and you wrapped your arms around him tightly. There were no thoughts, only the feeling of his fingers digging into your body as his mouth invaded yours. When you felt his erection against your core, a cry escaped your lips. He rubbed it against you once more and you bit his lip, hard.

He chuckled and gently pulled away from you, easing you down. You gazed at each other as if your eyes were magnetically locked. Both of you panted and wiped the corners of your mouth. “You’ve grown quite...assertive, Miss Eves,” he said in a rough voice. He tried to put on a candid act, but you saw through it. He was trying to suppress his desire.

You stepped towards him and put a hand on his chest. “I don’t want to go to the ball with anybody else,” you said.

His face froze, not knowing what to show you. So he chuckled and spun you around, putting a hand on your collarbone. His thumb grazed your throat, and you wondered if flames would erupt across your skin. “You will go to the ball with this boy,” he said. And he licked your ear and bit the lobe. You closed your eyes and nearly moaned. “You will dance with him, have a drink, and do what young women do at balls,” he said as he moved his other hand to your waist, squeezing it. “And at the end of the night, you will come to my room, and I will punish you for all of it. Do we have an understanding?”

Breathlessly, you said, “yes Master.”

He let go of you and bowed slightly, as if you were a proper lady and not the girl he just ravished against the wall. “Good girl,” he said with a wink.

You were thrown so back and forth with his words that your lust had slowly transformed into a deep hunger...and your stomach growled unceremoniously, loudly. He chuckled at the sound as you crossed your arms around yourself, trying to block out the noise.

“Perhaps we should return to the Great Hall and get you well fed. You need to keep up your energy for the ball,” he said.

You looked around at your surroundings. It was an empty stone room with no doors and a large chandelier in the ceiling. “Where are we?”

He waved his hand at the wall closest to you and a wooden door appeared. “This is the room of requirement,” he said. “It is a room that only appears when you are in great need of it, and it also becomes the room that you need.”

You raised your brows as you passed through the door with him into the empty hall. The door disappeared as if the room was not there. You touched the stone and knocked on it, but it was just a continuous wall. “Just when I thought this place had finished amazing me,” you said.

“Hogwarts will never cease to amaze, love,” Professor Laufeyson said. He stopped when you got to the stairs. “Now, I bid you farewell until the ball. Be sure to get into heaps of trouble,” he said, smirking.

“Oh, I will,” you said with a wide smile. The butterflies flowed freely through your body and you felt electrified. Suddenly, the ball had gotten much more exciting and you could not wait for Wednesday night.

You ran down the corridor, back to the main level, where several students ran past you. The smell of food wafted through the halls and your stomach grumbled more, so you picked up the pace. Another scent caught your nose, and you wondered what it was, since it definitely was not food. As you walked, you realized that the floor was covered in water. Puzzled, you entered the main corridor which led to the Great Hall and found a large crowd of students standing there.

You spotted Valkyrie ahead of you, so you pushed your way through several students, mumbling an apology, and tapped her shoulder. She looked at you grimly and gestured to the wall with her eyes. When your gaze followed, you stepped back with a hand to your chest. There was a message on the wall, written in blood. The nauseating scent of iron was thick in the air. The message wrote:

The beast has awakened...Enemies of the heir, beware...

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musekicker · 4 years

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animal crossing drabble: Fashion Disaster

Just something more on the fluff and a bit silly side of things.

And yeah, I couldn’t quite come up with descriptions for everyone's outfits. Ah well.

Events were a big deal to the islanders of Sweet Berry island. There was always the bug catching and fishing tourneys, star showers some nights. It was a low key yet interesting place to live.

Today was a new form of event that the island had not had before.

Label had approached Tom Nook and Isabelle with a new event idea that would provide entertainment to the islanders and help Label out in testing out fashion design ideas.

A fashion show.

And there had been a few volunteers for the fashions. Flick and C.J had been the first on board for the fashion show, so their outfits were more custom then some of the other outfits.

Other volunteers included Isabelle, Harv, and Blathers.

At the announcement on the fashion show on the town message board islanders made sure everything was looking it's best. And on the morning of the show, a runway had been constructed by a small team of the island villagers.

Now, as night fell and the lights were turned on in the island center, the show would soon begin.

Label held her breath as the music, played on the announcement system, swelled and Tom Nook came out from behind the curtains set up at the base of the runway.

"Good evening everyone. I'm so glad to see so many faces here. Label is a dear friend of us all and deserves our support. But don't take it from me. Before we start the show, let's hear a few words from the hedgehog of the hour herself, Label!"

The crowd cheered, Label's sister cheering the loudest.

Label stepped onto the stage and Tom Nook handed the microphone to her.

"Thank you everyone. I am thankful that everyone is here. This collection is not a large one, but one made with much dare and love. And I hope you all enjoy it." Label said.

With that Label handed the microphone back to Tom Nook.

"Well, with those words, The Sweet Berry fashion show is ready to begin!" Tom Nook announced.

The islanders whooped and cheered as Tom Nook and Label hurried back behind the curtains. Seconds later the first fashion model came out.

Flick was the first to come down the runway. He walked in a very mellow and cool headed pace, hands in the pockets of his open jacket.

Said jacket had the pattern of a monarch butterflies on the inside of the jacket. His shirt was a bright orange with black buttons. His jeans were black with orange buttons going down the side of the legs.

The jeans cuffs also had the orange and black monarch pattern coloring.

He stopped at the end of the runway, giving a light, cool tilt of his head before turning and heading back up the runway to the curtains.

C.J was next.

His clothes were clearly made for fishing on a rainy day as his outfit was a raincoat. What made his so interesting was that the coat was clear with fish images embedded in the middle of the material of the jacket. It was fun and functional.

C.J had a lot more energy on the runway, outright sashaying and posing.

Not long after was Harv's turn. Watching from the end of the ever dwindling line was Blathers.

Blathers wasn't sure about this at all. The fashions were wonderful. He loved his new sweater that matched contrasted against his feather coloring. It was more how he would handle the crowd he was worried about.

He peered out at the crowd of islanders and peers and felt his little owl heart beat as fast as it did when presented with a bug.

"Blathers, is something wrong?" Tom Nook asked.

Harv was back, giving Isabelle a high five as it was turn to step out.

Isabelle stepped out on the runway next. Her outfit bright and energetic. Just as much as Isabelle was. She smiled and waved to the crowd.

"I can't follow that!" Blathers cried.

Tom Nook put a hand on Blathers shoulder.

"Yes, you can. You will do just fine. And even if you were to mess anything up at all, which I'm not saying you would, do you think your fellow islanders would judge you?" Tom Nook asked.

"That one islander who keep shaking the trees and is always getting chased by bees might." Blathers said after a moment.

"Who is she to judge? She's shaking trees enough that she keeps getting chased by bees." Tom Nook said.

"It's true." said the islander that both Blathers and Tom Nook had been talking about.

The other yelped at the appearance of the islander.

"Oh, oh my." Blathers said, putting a wing to his chest for a moment.

"Um.. hello there. Are you part of the fashion show?" Tom Nook asked.

The islander shook her head.

"Nope. But hey, Blathers, wanted to tell you that you got this man." the islander said.

Blathers smiled.

"Thank you... both of you. I think I needed some kind words. Now I'm ready to go out there!" Blathers said.

It was a good thing too. As he saw Isabelle was returning.

As he was preparing to step out onto the runway the islanders leaned in a bit to whisper to Tom Nook.

"Don't tell Blathers but I chased a tarantula back here. Lost sight of the little-"

"I think I know where it went." Tom Nook said, eyes wide and pointing to Blathers.

The islander glanced in the direction Tom Nook had pointed in. Her eyes grew just as wide as she spied the tarantula attached to Blathers back.

"Ohhhh no." said the islander. "We have to do something."

It was too late to try and remove the tarantula without Blathers knowledge as Blather had just stepped out from the curtains and onto the runway.

"No no no. Not good." said the islander.

"Hold on, I got a plan. Go to Timmy and Tommy. Tell them to get... the suit." Tom Nook said. "And also any wild flower they can pick on the way here. I'll talk to Label really quick."

Blathers was out on the runway now, trying to keep his shaky confidence. So far the islanders seemed to be on his side, clapping at the sight of him. Blathers gave a small smile to everyone.

Closer to the end of the runway the clapping started to die off once people got a view of Blathers back. Eyes were wide, mouths were agape. And no one wanted to say a thing, fearing that telling Blathers would put him into a spiral of freaking out.

Blathers however was suspecting something was wrong. People didn't stare for no good reason right? He was about to try and figure out just what was going on when Tom Nook arrived onto the runway.

He looked rather dapper in his light blue suit and top hat. There was a gold band around the top hat and he had a bow tie on that was also a gold coloring.

In his fancy suit he stroll over to Blathers , a collection of somewhat nicely arranged wild flowers in arm.

"Attention everyone!" Tom Nook said. "Yes this is a fashion show, but me and Label also have a surprise for our final runway model and beloved citizen of Sweetberry, Blathers!"

The crowd clapped, still unsure but hoping the plan Tom Nook was putting into effect would get the tarantula off Blathers back quick.

"What? A surprise?" Blathers said, blinking a few times. "I had no idea."

"Exactly why it's called a surprise dear Blathers." Tom Nook said, now by Blathers side.

He paused, looking at Blathers back and tsking.

"Oh a piece of lint is stuck to your back. Let me get that off." Tom Nook said.

Tom Nook was very brave as he quickly swatted the tarantula off of Blathers back. The tarantula went flying towards the crowd, who quickly moved aside to avoid getting a tarantula on them.

The tarantula had enough of the crowd as it only skittered away into the night.

The night was saved.

"Because of your dedication with of sharing knowledge with the islanders of Sweetberry we as a town have agreed to open up a library on the island. Which will be named after you, dear Blathers." Tom Nook said.

Blathers was speechless as Tom Nook handed the flowers to him and everyone cheered.

"I... I don't know what to say but... thank you!" Blathers said.

As Blathers basked in this good news and the crowds approval Tom Nook leaned over to speak to the islander.

"You are helping fund and build this library." Tom Nook whispered.

"I thought so. Also fair." the islander said.

#animal crossing

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bethagain · 5 years

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A series of vignettes in the life and times of Death, to the tune of the old magpie nursery rhyme: One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl and four for a boy. Five for silver, six for gold. Seven for a secret, never to be told.

Unbelievably, day TEN of the 31 Days of Ineffables challenge, started by @drawlight. Today’s prompt was silver and gold. Huge thanks to @emeraldscholar, who offered the magpie rhyme as an extra prompt. I ended up using a different version than the one you suggested, I hope you don’t mind too much!

Things get sad in the beginning here, but cheer up by the end. Also on AO3.

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A Magpie Rhyme

One for Sorrow

Adam, 18 years old and a freshman in college, finished his last exam of the semester yesterday. His bag is packed and he has a train ticket to Leeds, where his grandma lives.

Lived.

He was supposed to visit her in the hospital today, tell her he loved her. To get well soon. She died this morning.

Adam sits on the floor of his dorm room, phone in hand. It still shows the last call, evidence of the conversation he just finished with his mother. The world feels quiet all of a sudden, like everything's shut down.

Death sits on the floor beside him.

That's Death for you, shows up unannounced. Shows up when he wants to, no choice for anybody else. Doesn't even knock.

"You didn't have to," Adam says.

Death sits there beside him, the bottoms of his black wings resting on the cheap gray carpet.

"You could have waited."

Death sits there beside him.

"I hate you," Adam says.

Death sits there beside him.

"Why?" Adam says.

Death sits there beside him. "It's the world," Death says. "There is no why."

"Take it back," Adam says. "Give her back."

"Not even," Death says, "for you "

Adam starts to cry.

A black-feathered wing lifts itself around his shoulders, over his head, enveloping him in darkness. In peace.

Some time later--and no time, because the clock on Adam's phone is unchanged--he's sitting on the floor in his room again. Death sits beside him.

Adam wipes away tears. "Is that where she is now? Where everything's ok?"

"That is not for you to know," Death says. Death sits there on the floor beside him. Death says, "Yes."

Adam looks around. He's alone in his dorm room. It's still a terrible day.

But everything feels a little bit lighter.

Two for Joy

Sometimes, Death likes to watch.

It’s a desperate case. A young stonemason fell from scaffolding at the half-built cathedral. His pale skin shows that he’s been bleeding inside. His broken tibia pokes through his skin. A pool of blood is forming beneath his head. A doctor works over him, shaking his head as he binds the wounds.

The young man’s coworkers are gathered near the doorway, hats in hands, looking stricken.

An angel hovers nearby, invisible to human eyes. Aziraphale can stop infection. His prayer will close the lacerated liver and heal the bruised kidney. He has no power over Death.

“Well?” says the angel, irritated, as Death waits.

To the doctor’s astonishment, the young man opens his eyes. He sits up, touching his head, feeling for the bump. One co-worker rushes toward him, envelops him in a hug.

“It’s not his time,” Death says, and is gone.

The world is the world, Death thinks, as he makes his way to a nearby corner where two carriages are about to collide. He shouldn’t care, he’s not built to care. But it’s nice to see a miracle sometimes.

Three for a Girl

Death never gets a holiday. He does, though, sometimes turn up at very fancy places.

The restaurant is the kind where you can eat dinner, or you can stay away and for the same amount of money, pay a month’s rent for a family of four. All the tables are full. All these people chose dinner.

The hostess is a tall redhead in four inch heels. She’s wearing slim black trousers, a black silk button-down shirt, and a feather boa that lands on just the right side of camp. The feathers are black and lustrous. The spaces between them seem to soak up all the light.

Death, of course, recognizes the demon Crowley.

“Here to pick one up?” is Crowley’s version of saying hello. “Shame, they’re just getting started on the sinning tonight.”

Death inclines his head in acknowledgment.

“Well, I mean,” Crowley says, cheerful, “they think they’re sinning. That’s just as good, right? Gluttony, that’s an easy one. But get this.” Crowley grabs a menu from the nearby stand. He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, pointing to each line. “Not a single duck was tortured to make that fois gras. But do you think they ask? Every single vegetable organically grown, harvested by workers paid a living wage. With a retirement plan! They don’t care. They just want to know that it costs more than other people can afford.”

Crowley sets the menu back in its place. “Which one you here for?”

“You will see,” Death says.

Crowley shrugs. “Ok, fine, don’t let me stop you. Great outfit today, by the way. I like the new hood. And you’ve done something with your wings, they’re extra black today.”

Death nods a thank you. “Nice touch with the feather boa,” Death says. “Very demonic, in an understated way.”

Crowley grins. “Thanks! Give a shout when you’re done. I’d rather not see it happen.”

“Of course.”

Crowley greets another customer, while Death glides on in to the dining room.

Four for a Boy

Death has always been as he is. He has never been a child. He will never be an old man.

He is unflappable, indescribable, and unspeakable.

But every now and then, he wonders what it would have been like to be a boy.

That’s why, if you were in Tadfield on a certain evening after the world didn’t end, you might have seen Death. Nobody died that day, of course, at least not there. Adam had seen to that. The other three Horsemen had discorporated and Death had faded away.

But he didn’t stay away. He was curious about these children who were unafraid of the end of the world. So he followed one of them home.

While Adam’s father banished him to his room, Brian’s parents were cheerfully oblivious. Death watched as Brian hollered hello through the back door, played around in the yard for a while, and went in for dinner.

If you’d happened to look into Brian’s yard after dark that night, you’d have seen a sight that was terrifying or hilarious, depending on your worldview. Death spent a few minutes pushing around Brian’s toy cars, a few more sitting on his tire swing. But his favorite part, and the place he spent a good long while, was jumping on the trampoline.

Five for Silver

Most of the time Death doesn’t carry the scythe. It’s heavy, unwieldy, and you really don’t want to swing it the wrong way and end up harvesting an extra soul you don’t know what to do with.

But sometimes a Spirit of Oblivion wants to put on a show. Look extra intimidating.

That’s why Death keeps the blade brightly polished. When he’s in between jobs, you might find him sitting on a block of Night, feet planted in a puddle of Darkness, a polishing rag in hand and a tub of silver polish at his side.

If you ever see Death in his full glory, black wings shining, scythe glinting with cold light--it might be small consolation, since you’re also about to be dead, but at least you’ll know he thought you were important enough to impress.

Six for Gold

Death never changes his mind. You can plead. You can try to make bargains. You can beg. It won’t help.

That’s the world. Your time is your time.

Still, there are good deaths and bad deaths, and Death can’t help but notice. His idea of good deaths might be a little different from yours.

He likes the good ones. The kind ones. The ones when everyone says, She was always so kind. He was always so thoughtful. They were generous, they were faithful. They were all heart, they were good-hearted, they were good as gold.

He likes the good ones, because he knows where they’re going. With no doubt, no time in purgatory, no need for atonement.

Their souls pass through him, soft and gentle, and go on into the light.

Seven for a Secret, Never to Be Told

Aziraphale and Crowley never have to think about Death. Not for themselves, anyhow. They’ve been around since before there was a world. They’ll be around long after.

Death doesn’t have to think about them, either, but he does. Because he sees them together, where a demon and an angel shouldn’t be.

The year is 1543, and he sees Crowley lurking in shadowed corners while Aziraphale sits by the deathbed of a child. He sees the two of them later, heads together, sorrow on the angel’s face, sympathy on the demon’s.

It’s 1941 and Death sees them leaving the ruins of a bomb-blasted church together, as he passes through to carry away three souls. He hears kind words exchanged.

He’s in St. James Park in the early 1800s, lifting away the spirit from an elderly man, and sees them walking side by side.

Death knows what he’s seeing, he’s seen it before. The end of life has a way of crystallizing friendship. It concentrates love.

And Death keeps his counsel, and he keeps their secret.

He has his role. The world is the world.

He does his job, and the rest of the universe spins on around him.

#31 days of ineffables #good omens #death #aziraphale #crowley #adam young

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paladin-andric · 5 years

Text

The Stranger

It’s about damn time, isn’t it?

Well, enjoy a fantasy western short story I haven’t gotten around to finishing for quite some time. Fair warning that this isn’t a genre I’m experienced in, so take that for what you will. Enjoy, however, wacky hijinks, bad wild west slang, magical cowboys fighting dragons, and an EXTREMELY strong reference to Blackheart! A mysterious stranger arrives to a town on brink of destruction, and promises to turn things around...

“Son of a bitch!”

A loud thud rang out as Red slammed a fist down onto his desk, fury written on his face.

He was an older man with gray hair, wrinkles on his face, and a bushy mustache. He slumped over, holding his temples with one hand while the other flexed in a fist, still held against the wooden surface of the desk.

Red wore a gray sleeveless vest, a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, and black pants. Topping off his ensemble was of course, his all-important badge. A silver, six pointed star with the word “SHERIFF” engraved with bold letters.

Another man was standing next to him. The accomplice had a slightly less tan complexion, and a goatee and mustache. He had a green jacket that was open down the middle, showing a tan shirt underneath. He also wore a white hat, and had a badge pinned to his jacket. It being a plain, five pointed star denoted that he was a standard officer.

“Sir, I know this is crazy but-”

“Crazy?! Crazy, boy?! This isn’t crazy…” the sheriff shook his head sadly. “This is a disaster!”

The lawman put his hands on his hips and looked down. “Shoot…don’t give up yet, sheriff. There’s a chance.”

“I don’t want a chance,” Red answered harshly, “I want to WIN! I want those damn leeches dead! I want those people SAFE! And now you say we got a damn monster to wrangle too?!”

“Everything bleeds,” the other man offered.

“Yeah...and we’ll be bleedin’ all over the ground soon enough!”

“Look, we gotta run NOW.”

Red sighed and took out his revolver, quietly spinning the cylinder, checking each chamber was loaded. The officer had never seen him like this before. He was normally so stoic, unflinching...of course, he could hardly blame him with he was burdened with, but still.

“Let’s go. Whatever happens, we gotta try to protect these folks.”

Red grimaced. “Better start prayin’ to God if you believe in him, boy...maybe he’ll help us out.”

“Maybe I can help you out, too.”

The unfamiliar voice made Red’s face shoot up.

In the doorway, quite a surprising figure stood sideways, leaning against the doorframe with a taloned foot resting against the frame as well. His head was turned to the side as to look straight at the pair of men.

A koutu, one of the birdfolk of the west was standing in the doorway. His feathers were white on his head and brown everywhere else. He wore a brown duster, sleeveless of course as to not interfere with his wings, with a red kerchief tied around his neck. Underneath was a brown button-up shirt, and he wore short pants as well. As they stopped at his raptor legs, Red assumed they were just for modesty’s sake.

He had a pistol holster at his side, pouches along his belt, and some sort of bag slung over his back. Finally, he had a brown hat with a wide brim atop him, looking like it was shaped custom-made for his avian head.

He looked at the pair with a confident though serious gaze, not a smile or smirk to be found. Red immediately jumped out of his seat, revolver firmly in his hand. The officer in the white hat held onto his holster.

“What the hell?!” The sheriff yelled out. The bird only reached up and tipped his hat.

“Howdy.”

“Who the hell are you?!” Red shouted, authoritative and snarling. If the bird had eyebrows, he would have been raising them.

“Nobody important, sir. Jus’ passin’ through.”

Red’s aggression quickly simmered, though he groaned and rolled his eyes. “Ugh. A wanderer, huh?”

“If you’d like. I prefer the term ‘wayfarer’ myself, sir.”

The officer in the white hat shrugged. “Sorry for the attitude, mister. Sheriff’s got a lot on his plate, you hear?”

“I hear ya.”

“Whaddya doin’ in my office, stranger?” Red demanded. The koutu looked to the side.

“Couldn’t help but overhear ya while I was passin’ by, you two. Sounds like you’re in a real fix. I’d like to help you fellas out, if I could.”

“And jus’ howdya think yer gonna help us? Kill all the bandits yerself? Or maybe you’d like to kill the goddamned dragon!”

“Well, not by myself. But I can pitch in.”

“Mighty kind offer,” the officer said with a nod, “We need all the help we can get.”

“Ain’t gonna do a thing,” Red said bitterly, “We’re all gonna get blasted to high heaven.”

“I’m worth my weight in bullets.”

“Oh yeah? You think yer some kind of hero? Think you can tumble with those beasties out there?” the sheriff said with a sneer.

For the first time since he appeared, the bird smirked. “You’d be surprised…”

The sheriff shook his head and put his revolver in its holster. “It’s your funeral, stranger. Follow us.”

The koutu got off the doorframer and stepped to the side. “After you, gentlemen.”

The group of lawmen left the sheriff’s office with the koutu in tow. The bird was silent for some time until they began to make their way out of Pike’s Creek.

“So what’re you thinkin’? What’s yer strategy here?”

“Not a damn clue,” the sheriff admitted.

“We, uhh...we ain’t never had to deal with dragons before,” the officer said quietly, “Though we were thinkin’ maybe dynamite might blast that sucker out of his britches.”

“Dynamite?” the koutu said, voice dripping with skepticism.

“What’s the issue?” the officer shot back.

“Pah! Big lizard’ll just fly up! You’d better have the throwing arm of a god if you wanna reach em’ with those!”

“You got a better idea?!” the sheriff snapped.

The bird hesitated. “Actually...yeah.”

“And just what’s that?”

The koutu hurried up beside them and pulled out his revolver. It was large, long and looked heavy as hell.

“I’m gonna plug em’ full of holes.”

The sheriff scoffed. The officer gave the bird a funny look. “You sure that’s a good idea, mister?” “You’ll see,” the koutu offered.

“Yer crazy!” Red shouted, “Yer as good as dead if you think you can just up n’ shoot that beastie!”

“You’ll see,” he repeated. The sheriff shook his head again.

“God, why do I always get the loony ones?”

“Uh, hey,” the officer interrupted, “I’m sure you’re a good shot and all, and that’s one hell of a big iron, but this ain’t no outlaw.”

“Oh, I know. This ain’t the first dragon I’ve tangled with.”

The officer looked genuinely surprised at that. “No kidding?! Well shoot, maybe you really can get us outta this, then…”

“You’ve fought one of these things before?!” Red questioned, his anger seeming to melt at the realization.

The bird nodded. “Yup. She was a biggun, lemme tell ya. ‘Course I had help during that scuffle.”

“How’d ya do it?” the officer asked.

“Well, me n’ a few other gunslingers rounded up a posse. Ganged up on ‘er. We had all sortsa big guns on our side so it wasn’t too bad. Speakin’ of...am I gettin’ any help from you or the rest of your folks?”

“We’re uh, a little busy, what with the gang comin’ to town n’ all.” the officer answered with a frown.

“Ah...well, what about you two?”

“We’ll pitch in...as long as we can,” the sheriff answered grimly.

“Appreciate it. You don’t have to go too crazy out there. Keep your distance. Just make sure to pop off a few rounds whenever I’m in a fix, ya hear?”

“Well shoot, don’t wanna leave you doing all the work out there,” the officer announced, “Shouldn’t be the rear guard, now!”

“You know any fancy spells?” the koutu questioned.

“Naw, not a soul ‘round these parts.”

“Then don’t push yourself. Just trust me. I should be fine.”

“If you say so…”

The harsh, unforgiving rays of the sun were starting to make all three of them sweat and sigh, and they hadn’t even started exerting themselves yet! They reached the outer limits of town, the lines of wooden buildings coming to an end as they began their march to the river outside.

“Say, I didn’t catch your names,” the bird said, turning his head to the pair.

The officer in the white hat spared him a glace. “Ah. Well, the name’s Michaels. Officer Michaels.” He pointed a thumb over to the sheriff. “Aaand that there’s Red. Sheriff, sure as you could tell.”

“I see. A pleasure to meet you folks.”

There was a long pause as the three walked. Finally, Michaels turned to look at the koutu again.

“...so?”

The bird shot him a look back. “So...it’s nice to be acquainted.”

“But we ain’t.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You haven’t introduced yourself.”

The koutu shrugged. “I haven’t.”

Michaels frowned. “Y’know, it’s mighty rude not to introduce yerself after everyone else has.”

As they talked, the group neared the edge of a cliffside. Near where they were there was a massive arch of stone hanging over one side of the cliff to the other, almost like a miniature tunnel. There was also a large drop below, and on the other side the ground came back to the same level. A gorge. A gorge with a large river flowing through it.

A gorge where a dragon was currently sitting.

The beast wasn’t too large, likely a young adult. It had red scales, a firebreather. He was currently lying in the river, head resting against the rocky grounds while his body was partially submerged. Was he washing up? Stopping to drink? Just taking a dip?

The koutu didn’t know, but he did know one thing; his target was waiting.

“Tell ya what,” he spoke in a whisper, “If I live through this, I’ll tell ya my name. How’s that?”

“Oh, fer-”

“Yeah yeah,” he interrupted the sheriff, “You two, take some cover,” he pointed at a large boulder beside them, “I’m goin’ in.”

“You nut!” Red whispered back, “He’ll charr ya to smithereens!”

“Just back me up n’ we should all be headin’ back soon,” the koutu assured him.

“Well...shoot, alright,” Michaels muttered, “But I still got the dynamite.”

“Get it ready, you won’t have a chance once he’s in the air.” The koutu took a deep breath. “...here we go. Best a’ luck to ya, officers.”

The koutu spread his wings out and leapt over the cliffside, soaring out into the gorge. The sheriff and lawman quickly crouched behind the boulder, guns drawn.

The bird landed on a flat strip of rock about halfway down the gorge, still without his weapons drawn. “Howdy, mister!” The red dragon’s eyes snapped open, his body unmoving as his gaze focused on the gunslinger.

“You dare rouse me from my rest?” the great beast spoke in a melodious, yet mighty voice, “Who are you that is so foolish to anger me?”

“Oh, ‘scuse me mister, but I’ve heard some nasty things...like that yer’ about to burn that little town down yonder to ash?”

“Indeed I am,” the dragon retorted, “My domain is mine to play with. Your point?”

“Ah. That’s a damn shame, ‘cause I take offense to that, sir.”

“Oh?” the dragon rose, his head quickly moving to rise on par with the koutu’s ground. “And just what are you planning on doing about this, you who are so small and weak?”

“Well for starters, Plan A is askin’ ya nicely to reconsider.”

The dragon let out a booming laugh. “Gahahahaha! Pathetic! No, you will not be asking anything of me. This withering husk of life will be purified by my most sacred flames. I shall not be persuaded.”

The koutu shrugged. “Worth a shot. Looks like I’ll just have to stop you myself then.”

The dragon’s grin grew manic. “I would like to see you try. Go on. Raise your arm to strike. I will cut you down in a moment.”

The bird smirked before letting out a sharp whistle. The dragon looked confused for a moment before realization hit him...in the form of a stick of dynamite.

Hurled from over the cliffside, it smacked into the dragon’s head before exploding in a spectacular fashion.

“Damn perfect throw, officer!” the koutu yelled before reeling back and letting a bolt of magic loose. The glowing blue spear flew forward, piercing the beast that still reeled from the explosion.

Michaels’ eyes went wide. “He’s a sorcerer!” he cried out to the sheriff, “No wonder he was so damn cocky!”

“Shit,” Red mumbled, “Maybe I was wrong about all this.”

The beast roared out in fury, eyes burning as they honed in on the now flying koutu.

“YOU WILL BURN AWAY FOR THIS, FOOLISH MORTAL!”

Mood Music

“Yer’ outgunned, friend!” the koutu shot back, whirling to the side as a plume of flames erupted from the dragon’s maw. Using his momentum, the stranger spun around mid-flight and took out his revolver, fanning the hammer and emptying all six shots into the beast.

The two humans noted a strange blue tinge of air that enveloped the bullets as they flew through the air, becoming plumes of magic that dissipated around the scales where the bullets landed.

“Enchanted bullets too!” Michaels shouted, “We can do this, sir!”

Red’s eyes narrowed. “Cover him!” the Sheriff began firing off rounds from his revolver at the dragon, while Michaels did the same.

Shell casings hit the ground alongside the stranger, who quickly reloaded his revolver as the dragon snarled, coming to a sudden pause. The beast felt the bullets from the pair up above hit him in the back.

The dragon whirled around, letting out a roar and glaring at the sheriff and white hat…

But before he could go after them, the koutu held up a taloned hand, before bringing it down. A bolt of divine lightning descended from the sky, striking the beast and making it cry out in pain.

Huffing, the dragon slowly turned his head to see the stranger, hand glowing and pulsing with magic as his other hand held his revolver aimed at the behemoth.

There was a moment of silence as everyone took in what just happened.

“Y-you…” the beast spoke softly, a hint of concern in his voice.

“I’m right here, huckleberry!” the koutu shouted, firing off another round and striking the beast’s head.

The red dragon let out another roar, recovering from the blast before flying out towards the koutu, who leapt off the cliffside he stood on and began flying along the gorge.

The two humans’ eyes were wide as dinner plates. Michaels looked over to Red.

“Well shoot, sir! He ain’t no sorcerer...he’s a goddamn paladin!”

The sheriff shook his head. “Crazy bastard...no wonder! Well it’s about damn time we got some proper help around here!”

Michaels frowned. “This shooter ain’t doin’ it. I need more kick.” the lawman tucked his pistol away and reached for the rifle on his back. Unslinging the lever-action repeater into his hands, the officer closed an eye and took careful aim.

A steady barrage of gunshots rang out as Michaels started firing and cocking the lever of the repeater, while Red kept firing his revolver.

The dragon, furious by this point, ignored the pain of the volleys of bullets hitting his back and went flying after the koutu, eyes near slits.

With another roar, the dragon let forth a jet of flames from his maw, the koutu whirling to the side as the fire flew past where he had been just a moment ago.

The sudden spike in temperature made the paladin wince. “Hoo! That’s hot!”

“You will wish that was as hot is it gets when I am through with you, bird!” the dragon barked back, spinning through the air himself as he moved to the stranger’s side.

The speed and agility of the dragon caught the koutu by surprise. Just a moment ago he seemed so clumsy and lumbering, but the dragons were the rulers of the sky…

With a crack of his tail, the koutu was slammed into with murderous force, sent rocketing to the cliffside and slamming into it. He hit the rocks so hard he left a small crater...but the paladin groaned, and grabbed at the sides of the man-sized crater.

He had thrown up a ward at the exact moment the dragon’s tail shifted. If he had been just a fraction of a second slower…

“Holy land of God, he’s alive!” Red cried, both of the humans staring slack-jawed as the bird pulled himself forward and onto the ground. Even the dragon seemed to reel back from the koutu’s survival, unintentionally showing his own fear.

“B-but you...I…”

The stranger snarled at the dragon, hand already pulsing with magical energy.

“I’m gonna put you in a world of hurt, amigo.”

The bird reeled back and the magic changed, blue lights shifting into the likeness of a javelin. He heaved the javelin forward and let it go with all his might, magical weapon flying through the air and straight into the dragon's chest.

The beast roared and snarled as the holy javelin pierced him, quickly fading away into nothing. The stranger followed up with another bolt of lightning, and then began firing off shots as he leapt back into the air and began flying back towards the humans.

“Graaaaah...it is nothing! Your fortune cannot last! I WILL BURY YOU!”

The koutu huffed as he twirled through the air, occasionally popping off shots at the dragon. They only cause minor injury, but they were certainly starting to pile up. The beast was grunting and growling with each movement, wincing as he adjusted his wings and moved his body.

All that punishment had certainly hurt him, only...there was quite a ways to go.

Narrowly avoiding a claw swipe then diving straight down to avoid a gust of flames, the paladin knew the dragon was right; his luck would run out eventually. If he just kept trying to whittle him down…

Have to think of something quick. Those humans, there has to be something they can do...

His eyes darted to the massive stone tunnel. It was enormous, enormous enough to fit even the dragon currently on his tail.

Wait...that’s it!

The koutu focused for a moment, eyes narrowing as he honed in on the white hat’s mind…

Hey, Michaels! You still got some dynamite?!

He could hear the bewildered response in his own mind. W-what?! What the hell?!

Yeah yeah, I’m talkin’ to your mind, I can do that! Now tell me, ya got that dynamite?

Wha-yeah, yeah I do! The hell you askin’ for, mister?!

I’ve got a plan, the birdman announced, I need some heavy explosives. How much you got?

There was a pause. W-well, I uhh...look, don’t tell Red about this, but I brought a couple crates. Hid em’ here ‘cause I thought we’d need em’. Right by that tree behind us. You plannin’ somethin’ big?

VERY big. That big ol’ archway, put those crates by the supports. You follow?

Michaels’ voice was ecstatic now. Ho boy, do I! On it!

The koutu continued evading the dragon and darting from left to right, dodging swings and fire breath all the while.

“FILTH!” the dragon roared, “YOU ARE FINISHED!”

“We’ll see about that!” the koutu hollered back, twirling through the air as he picked up more and more speed.

In the far distance, he could make out the two humans hurrying down a less steep incline to the bottom of the ravine, carrying a massive crate between the pair of them.

He kept up the pace. His initial skirmish with the dragon had caused them to fly pretty far from their initial starting point. Behind him, the dragon breathed fire and shouted further threats.

The two lawmen reached the stone arches and quickly got to work, burying bundles of dynamite along the foundations of the stone.

The gunslinger looked over his shoulder just in time to see the dragon breathe a plume of fire at him, diving and whirling to the right just in time. He could feel the scorching heat of the flames as they flew straight past him.

Further along, the humans seemed to be wrapping up their job, with dynamite scattered all throughout the bottom of the archway.

Alright, the white hat called to his mind, What’s our next move?

On my signal, light the fuse and run like hell…

The koutu dove lower, increasing his velocity as he dropped from the sky to only just flying above the river. The dragon remained in pursuit as they approached the stone archway…

Now that he was closer, he could see the pair shouting at each other, waving their hands wildly.

There was little doubt in the koutu’s head that they were arguing over the plan. Red likely started yelling about how crazy it was after Michaels told him.

“Come on...don’t let me down now…” the paladin muttered as he flew closer, the water underneath him nearly touching him as he struggled to keep his momentum.

Continuing to rocket forward with the dragon hot on his tail, he narrowed his eyes, judging the distance between himself and the others, along with the speed he was moving. If he just made it a little closer…

NOW! He shouted in his head, sending the order to the lawman.

In a moment, he saw the pair of humans bolt up the path they came running down, with lit fuses on the piles of dynamite signaling the impending explosion…

The koutu noticed a shift in the winds behind him. He turned and saw, much to his shock, the dragon slowing down, a noticeable amount of concern written on the creature’s face.

It knew what he was trying to do.

“What’s the matter, scared?!” the bird called back, “You yellow-bellied coward!”

As he turned his attention back in front of him, he noticed the sound of wildly flapping wings and deep snarl. It was now doubling its efforts to catch him.

Perhaps it was arrogance. Perhaps it was blind fury. Perhaps the dragon simply thought it could catch him before they reached the craggy rocks up ahead. Either way, it was now gaining on him, trying desperately to get him.

The gunslinger could feel his heart pounding against his chest now. He was in between a furious, rampaging dragon and a pile of lit dynamite that could blast him to pieces...and both were closing in on him.

As he reached the arches, he could practically feel the dragon on his back...and below him, he could see the lit dynamite’s fuse was entirely gone.

The koutu winced, praying to God for just a second’s more time-

A deafening explosion signalled the end to his plan. Dipping through the archway and emerging out the other side, the stranger barely had enough time to think as the earth shook, more explosions triggered as they caught more dynamite in each blast, and the dragon behind him let out a howling roar of agony.

The koutu turned and saw a whole ton of solid rock collapsing, the unique natural landmark crashing down onto the distracted and pain-wracked dragon. The beast collapsed into the river, covered in rubble.

The two humans, having looped around along the top of the cliffside, slid down into the gorge. The koutu, meanwhile, landed on the ground beside the carnage.

Michaels let out a loud cheer, keeping a hand on his hat as he slid down to the koutu. “Hoo-wee! You did it! I can’t believe you did it! That was a helluva stunt there, partner!”

Red reached the bottom after him, shaking his head. “Goddamn. I thought you were roast turkey, friend.”

The stranger shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

Before either of them could answer, another voice made itself known.

The low, pained cry of a dragon.

The trio turned to look at the beast. It lay half-buried in the rubble of the stone that once stood tall above the river. Only the front half of the dragon was visible through the ruins. With claws outstretched towards the group, and an expression of suffering written on its face which was half submerged in the river, there was no doubting this creature was badly hurt, if not close to death.

“A-aaahhh...o-oh, my…”

Micheals quickly took his revolver out of his holster and took aim. “Ain’t so tough now, are ya, partner?”

Red followed suit, walking up and aiming his revolver at the eyes of the beast. “What’s that I heard about scorching my town?”

The dragon let out a groan. “No...not yet...not like this…”

The koutu put his hands on his hips and gave the beast a serious look. “It’s over, amigo. Yer finished.”

The dragon’s eyes widened in horror. “It cannot be...no...NO! You must not!”

The paladin shook his head. “Gimme one good reason.”

The beast, to his surprise, remained silent. The koutu raised a brow.

“No promises of riches? No artifacts? No blusterin’ threats?”

“I...I have no hoard, no fortune. I have nothing. Nothing of my own, and nothing to give, a-and…” the beast’s eyes grew hazy and distant. “F-feels...cold…”

The koutu’s eyes shot open as he realized it. This beast was dying.

The explosions had done more damage than he had thought, and with all the rubble he couldn’t even check.

The humans behind him coldly stared at the monster in silence, guns still aimed at him. They seemed to believe this might have been a trick.

The paladin turned back to the dragon, a promising, yet risky and optimistic idea in his mind.

“I can save ya.”

“What?!”

That word had been uttered by both the dragon and the humans.

“Yeah. If you want.”

“The hell are ya doin’?!” Red demanded, glaring at the birdman.

“Y-you would...do that?” the red dragon asked. Both surprise and hope were apparent in his desperate speech.

“Suuure...but this is conditional, ya hear? You gotta make me a promise.”

“Anything!” the beast cried. Apparently once his delusions of invincibility were shattered, this dragon realized just how much life he had left to live, and was willing to do what other dragons might not to preserve it.

The koutu crouched down next to the dragon and stared straight into its large, reptilian eye. “In exchange for your life, I want you to do a complete 180, ya hear?”

The beast stared back at him, but his eye was unfocused and clouded. “What...do you mean?”

“From here on out, this ‘domain’ is not yours to ‘play with’...but to protect.”

A sharp hiss rang out as the dragon attempted to move its body among the rubble. “Y-you mean…”

“That’s right. You keep an eye out on this town. You come runnin’ when they holler for yer help. You help out the law with criminals on the run, keep the town safe. Hell, maybe you should help em’ out with gatherin’ and huntin’ too!”

Michaels sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Look, that’s a mighty nice thing you’re tryin’ to do here pal, but I don’t think he’ll-”

“Yes...I will do it...”

The lawman tilted his head. “Wha-”

The koutu smirked, craning his neck towards the dragon. “What was that, mister? I didn’t quite hear that...”

“I agree!” the red beast said hurriedly.

“Swear on it.”

“I swear on my life, my honor, and all I hold most dear!” the dragon cried, “Please...my vision grows dark…”

The koutu grimaced. “This is gonna take a lot outta me, partner. You PROMISE yer gonna keep up yer end of the bargain?”

The beast began to twitch. “P-please...I beseech thee…”

Realizing he had to do this right now if he wanted the dragon to live, the paladin kneeled beside the beast and placed his hands upon the larger creature.

Closing his eyes, the paladin willed all the energy within his body to move into the dragon, muttering quietly in prayer as the divine aided him.

The two humans viewed this scene with a healthy amount of skepticism, backing up and keeping their weapons at the ready.

“Lord, this is crazy,” Red muttered.

“Who knows?” Michaels said with a shrug, “Maybe it’ll work.”

After over a minute of praying and utilizing his holy magic, the paladin at last stopped, his body spent from the taxing effort of healing this great beast.

He rose to his feet, wobbling for a moment before going for a pack on his belt. He took out a sleepskip potion and quickly began to guzzle it down.

The dragon, in the meantime, began to blink. Its head rose and it looked around the area with a vested interest.

The koutu sighed as he screwed the top back onto the potion and stuffed it back into his pouch. “What are ya starin’ at, partner?”

“Hmm...my vision has returned, in perfect clarity.”

“Good! So...feel better?”

“...I feel perfect.”

The dragon followed this up with a surge upwards, bursting out of the rubble with seemingly no effort. He flapped his wings and rose above the debris and ruin, circling around and landing in the gorge beside the koutu.

With the huge beast staring down at him with an unreadable expression, the paladin worried he might have simply just gotten tricked. He tensed up, ready to act, when the dragon spoke.

“You saved my life. For what reason, I am unsure. You have no reason to trust me. I am a threat. I am your enemy...and yet, you showed me kindness anyway.”

The koutu shrugged, a false grin plastered on his beak. “Figured I could take you if you turned out to be lying.”

“...you are a poor liar. But it is obvious that is not your trade. No, you follow the old ways. Those tenets of honor and chivalry, a sacred warrior code forged in the crucible of your precious church.”

The koutu let out a laugh. “Aww, what gave it away?”

“At any rate...I am in your debt, and as such, I will uphold our bargain. For this second chance, I, Astronomus, hereby proclaim myself as the Guardian of Pike’s Creek, home to those venerable warriors that showed me mercy when I needed it most.”

The koutu nodded. “That’s good to hear...cause we’ve got yer first mission ready, friend.”

Astronomus seemed genuinely surprised. “Already? Did you offer me this deal because you had a use for me to begin with?”

“Dead on.”

Astronomus’ eyes narrowed. “Very clever...very well, what is it?”

…

Gunshots rang out all around the town as the bandits continued their advance. Each time they attacked, the town posse was pushed back. Each time the citizens attempted a counter attack, they lost people. They now settled for giving ground rather than risking more lives.

Deputy Harry loaded yet another six rounds into his revolver, sitting behind a fence as cover. He had lost his rifle when the bandits blasted his cover with dynamite further up the street. Like all the other lawmen, he had a hat, vest, and a shiny badge identifying him.

A few others were spread out along the street, hiding behind various bits of cover as both they and the bandits popped off shots at each other.

Things were getting desperate now. A few of the men that joined up to fight had run out of ammo, and were sent back to the sheriff’s to get more. A couple had been killed, and two had been shot.

Harry grimaced as he shot a bandit and watched him go down. There were too many. Things were getting desperate…

A man rounded the corner and tackled him, sending both of them to the ground. Just as the bandit rose to a kneeling position and aimed his gun at the deputy, a loud bang made him freeze.

The man collapsed on top of the deputy, who quickly threw him aside and looked out to the road.

A woman in a simple dress, holding a rifle, nodded at him. This was Alice, the local cook’s daughter.

Things were bad, and they needed every hand they had…

“Thanks!” Harry called out as he got back up and pressed himself up against the fence. He steadied his balance, taking a deep breath and reading himself for the next attack…

With a bellowing cry, the entire group of bandits charged forward, aiming to overwhelm the defenders in a blind rush. Crowds of men stormed down the street, closing the distance with exceptional speed.

It took a moment for it to sink into Harry’s head: No matter how much they shot, they wouldn’t take enough of them down before they were overrun.

Gritting his teeth, Harry cried out. “Everyone, fall back! I’ll cover you!”

He only fired two shots before an earth-shaking roar made everyone taking part in the battle freeze.

That roar came from behind him, and after the scare this morning, that could only mean one thing…

Slowly, he turned and looked up, and within the sky, the source of his fears approached. A massive beast of red scales and sharp eyes, wings blocking out the sun with their sheer size, and an imposing visage of a legendary creature.

The dragon had arrived.

Harry let his shoulders slump and his head lower. It had kept its promise; it was here to burn Pike’s Creek to cinders and kill everyone inside.

The town’s done for...but maybe I can get a few folks out…

Steeling himself, Harry took a few sharp breaths and held his revolver in a vice-grip, hands shaking.

Before he could even call out for everyone to follow him, a bewildering sight caught the breath in his throat.

A birdman in gunslinger garb stood up on top of the dragon and leapt into the air, doing a backflip before catching the wind and flying forward towards the group.

The dragon passed the town posse and stopped in front of the charging bandits, giving them only a moment to scream before he let out a plume of flames from his maw.

The jet of fire poured down onto the crowd of bandits, charring them to bits in a mere second. There was some comfort in the lack of screams; at least the usually agonizing way to die was quick with dragonfire.

The dragon then landed among the buildings along the main town road, only having barely enough room to do so. In a moment that only furthered his shock, Harry watched Sheriff Red and Officer Michaels slide down the beast’s back and onto the ground.

“What in the goddamn…?”

“Heya, deputy!” Michaels shouted cheerfully, a lever-action rifle resting on his shoulder.

“The hell is goin’ on?!” Harry shouted, confused.

“We made a new friend,” Red explained, pointing a thumb over his back, “Not this one, another one who talked him into...helping out.”

“Helping out…?” “This fella’s turned his way around, ain’t that right, pal?!” Michaels called out, turning around.

The dragon frowned and lowered his head. “Indeed. I am Astronomus, and I am here to aid you. In exchange for mercy at the hands of these victors, I have sworn to become the Guardian of Pike’s Creek. I will drive these rabble out.

Michaels pointed at the building beside them. “Err, hey, Astronomus…”

The tavern had been hit by the flames as well, part of the wall currently covered in flames that licked at the chipping paint along the welcome sign.

The dragon performed what Harry could only imagine was an embarrassed grin before flapping his wing at it, the whipping winds snuffing out the flames.

The deputy watched as the koutu in the distance twirled through the air and fired a few shots at what he presumed were fleeing bandits.

“Who wants some lead in they ear?!” the bird cried out faintly, “Step on up!”

Harry took off his hat and gave Red an exasperated look. “You got some weird help around here, sheriff.”

…

“...and that’s it.”

Red gave the bird a grin. The pair were overlooking Pike’s Creek from a hill on the northern side of town. The sun was beginning to set, the sky bathing the town in a vibrant hue of orange.

After the fight concluded, folks had began to clean up. The dragon was busy helping out and adjusting to its new role as protector rather than destroyer. With everyone else busy, Red decided to humor the stranger’s request to see him off.

“So all your affairs are settled,” the koutu noted.

“That’s right, and it’s all thanks to you, stranger.”

“Eh, I lucked out. If my gamble with the dragon backfired…”

“It didn’t, and that’s all I care about. You saved our bacon out there.”

The koutu shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

The sheriff turned his attention from the sunset to the stranger. “So, if you don’t mind me asking...who in the hell are you, son? You did some amazing things out there, with that there holy magic.”

“Perhaps this ain’t the sorta thing to admit to a man of the law, but...I’m a vigilante out for blood.”

The sheer, stark honestly of that statement made the sheriff’s eyes go wide. “Eh?”

The koutu nodded. “It’s true.”

The dragon said he’s a terrible liar…

Red cleared his throat. “Well, then...what in the blazes are you doing?”

The koutu gazed into the setting sun, expression turning sullen. “It goes back a long way. See, back in my hometown, there was this...bully. He liked to torment us other kids, got a real kick out of it.”

Red seemed skeptical. “Okay…”

The koutu’s eyes narrowed. “But then he beat my little brother with a rock.”

“Ah, blazes…”

“I beat the stuffing out of em’,” the koutu admitted, “I beat him so bad he threw up and couldn’t move til’ a grown up found him some time later.”

“So that’s gotta do with yer’ blood feud?”

“Yeah. You see...that kid...he didn’t make it.”

“Holy hell…”

The stranger shook his head. “My little brother nearly didn’t, either. If I hadn’t stopped him…”

“I understand,” Red said quietly, “I get it. It’s fucked up, but I get it.”

The koutu slowly nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

There was a brief moment of silence between the pair before the koutu gathered himself and continued.

“Well, his paw didn’t like that very much. Came to my house and stabbed MY paw. Thankfully some fine folks were walkin’ by and saw the whole thing. Paw pulled through, he skipped town when he realized he was gonna be thrown in jail, and life moved on.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Joined the church, they realized I had a knack for the whole magic thing, so I joined up with the clerics. Ascended to paladin not too long ago.”

“Impressive,” Red said with a nod.

“Well, I tried to move on. You do things you don’t mean sometimes, you know? I wish things had turned out differently, but all you can do is try to make up for it, go onto a better path. Ya know?”

Red nodded. “I gotcha...but you don’t seem at all like a man out fer blood.”

“I wouldn’t be normally, but something happened recently. Came home and found my brother out like a light on the floor. The folks were out of town...and my sis was missing. On her bed, I found a note taunting me, about how vengeance was finally his...and it was signed with that man’s initials.”

The sheriff reeled from the information. “He came back after all those years to hurt ya?”

The bird nodded, eyes locked on the ground. “Guess he was planning to settle the score while everyone else was tryin’ to forget…”

“My God…”

“Well, I started tracking him, he left a pretty obvious trail on the way out. I started out on the roads, and began to notice that I thought I had a pretty good idea where he was going. I came to Geralthin, was passing through here, and, well...here I am.”

“You gotta rescue yer sis, and you wasted all this time helping a couple of fools out?!”

“It’s what I do,” the koutu said, more quietly than the first time.

“Aw, hell, pal...you didn’t need to do this. You’ve got more important stuff to worry about.”

“I told you already, I’m not a man to leave others out in the dark. I know what it feels like to be helpless, to lose what you care about. I ain’t about to watch that happen to Lord knows how many folks.

“...you’re a good man. I apologize for the tongue lashin’ back when we met.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the koutu assured, “All water under the bridge. Now I’ve gotta get goin’, but first…”

The gunslinger reached into the pouches on his belt and began to rummage through.

“I’d like ya to have this.”

The bird pulled out a large rock, decorated with strange runes, the indents along the design were glowing a dim blue. He held it out to the sheriff.

“A...a rock?” Red questioned, taking it and inspecting the surface.

“Wrong. An anchor, partner. The second half to this.”

The bird pulled out another rock with similar designs and a blue glow, but this one was much smaller, and shaped to be easily held in a fist, unlike the large, disklike stone he had offered.

“Anchor? You mean that fancy magic that holds stuff?”

“Not exactly. This is the anchor half of a spell, not the anchor spell itself. That’s part of the teleportation ritual. Ya see, that’s what teleports, and this here rock in my hand tells it what to teleport.”

“You mean…”

The koutu grinned. “Yup! You just put that rock on the ground and say the magic word, and I’ll be alerted from my half of it. I should come runnin’ unless I’m doin’ somethin’ REAL important.”

Red was in disbelief. “Y-ya mean you’ll help us out of ANOTHER fix?!”

“If it comes to it, yeah. I’m really startin’ to like you fellas, and yer fine little town. If you need help, or if you just wanna see me, by all means, call me over!”

“Aw hell, you’re really somethin’, ya know that mister?”

The koutu answered by quickly wrapping his wings around the man in a hug. The human was shocked by the sudden display of affection, unsure how to respond.

“Resolve,” the bird whispered, beak beside his ear.

“Eh...what?”

The paladin pulled back and winked. “The magic word. Just call it out when you want to and the magic in that stone’ll spring to life.

“Oh! I gotcha. Jeez...you caught me off guard, there.”

“You know how it is,” the koutu admitted, “Dunno when I’ll see ya next, so might as well put my cards on the table. I think you folks are swell, and I hope the best fer ya all!”

“You too, mister!”

The koutu stretched his arms. “Eyup...well, I really should be going, now. Baddies are awaitin’!”

As he took a step forward, Red held an arm out. “Wait a second!”

The koutu stopped and turned back. “Yeah?”

“You never told me, stranger!”

The bird raised a brow. “Told ya what now?”

“You said if you lived you’d tell me yer name!”

The koutu’s eyes lit up. “Ah, right! Well...call me...Razorwing!”

Red blinked. “Yer...Razorwing?”

“That’s right! Now...see ya around, sheriff!”

The stranger leapt into the air and unfurled his wings, catching the wind and soaring off into the sky. In his wake, he left a conflicted and confused sheriff.

��

“Yeah, it’s right here.”

Michaels led Red further into the library. When the sheriff told the lawman what the bird had told him, Michaels got a funny look in his eye.

He claimed he knew something about “Razorwing”.

Now Red watched as Michaels pulled a book off of the shelves, holding it up to the sheriff’s face.

Two things really caught the man’s attention. Firstly, the picture.

The cover had a lovingly crafted illustration of a koutu with a striking white head and a brown body. He wore flowing, white robes with a short, vibrant red cape and had a quiver on his hip. In his hands he held a longbow, aiming it up and striking a heroic pose worthy of a statue.

The second was the title of the book: “The Adventures of Razorwing”.

Red blinked. “W-what in the hell?”

“Yeah,” Michaels said, “That’s Razorwing.”

“B-but he’s lookin like some man from the dark ages!”

“Close,” the officer said with a smile, “He’s from the Middle Ages, about 1350. He was a big celebrity in his day, and his fame only increased after a couple generations. He was an archer that went on all sorts of adventures. Fightin’ monsters, stoppin’ bad guys, savin’ everyone...a real man of honor. Did you know he could shoot so straight he could shoot a man twice and split the first arrow?”

“You know an awful lot about this bird fella.”

Michaels shrugged innocently. “Consider me a fan. Mama always read me storybooks about him when I was a kid.”

“He’s that popular, huh? Well, anyway...what does all this mean? I don’t get it,” Red admitted.

“That man that helped us out...think about it. He’s a warrior on a mission, a skilled and brave man out adventurin’ to stop bad guys. He’s a shooter with some special kick, and he shares his looks with a certain famous someone…”

“Ya mean...he took his name?”

“That’s right. He chose an old folk hero from his country he identified with...and he’s tryin’ to keep the torch lit. Least that’s what I think.”

The sheriff shook his head. “Two Razorwings...that’ll throw folks for a loop, don’t you think?”

Michaels laughed. “That’s only if he ever becomes famous.”

Red looked out a window beside him, gazing into the quickly darkening sky. “...I got a feeling he’ll make it through his journey. He’s something else.”

“True,” the lawman uttered quietly, “It’s like Razorwing always said...every age has its heroes.”

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadchronicles, @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @candy687, @fierywords, @shewrites-sometimes, @nerds-and-nebulae, @purpleshadows1989

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percywinchester27 · 6 years

Text

Unconventional Roommates (Epilogue)

Word count: 2.6K

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Series Summary: Now that his brother is at Stanford, for the first time in his life, Dean does something for himself. He takes a step towards chasing his own dreams and moves away from Lawrence to start college, which is both thrilling and scary at the same time. Only catch, in this unknown town, he is stuck with the MOST infuriating female on the planet- the roommate from hell!

A/N: Here we are! Thank you, guys. Your love kept me going <3

This couldn’t have been possible without the incredible @deanssweetheart23. Thank you so much for everything, Athina. You rock, my princess <3

Unconventional Roommates masterlist

"This is a horrible fricking idea!" Dean grumbled, getting out of the car.

Y/N merely smirked, and Dean had to admit that the expression had never looked so alluring on anyone else. "You're just nervous. This is the coolest thing I've ever done."

Dean adjusted his tie. She looked so happy that he would have done anything to keep her smiling like that. This wasn't a big deal as it is. He was only nervous because he had never done this before, and also because he was about to walk in with the best girl he knew.

Incidentally, the reason for Y/N's excitement was same as his nervousness. She had never done this before either.

The building was colored in flashing crimson and purple lights which reflected on Y/N's face. Dean couldn't help but be reminded of the fair, when they were stuck in the Ferris wheel. She had looked beautiful then, and she looked beautiful now. The black wig that she was sporting suited her perfectly, so did the dark lipstick. She looked something else.

Just before they could enter the hall, Dean caught hold of her hand and pulled her back.

"Have I told you that you look absolutely stunning?"

Y/N looked down, smiling shyly. It would still take him time to get used to her reacting like that instead of glare down at him like she was about to pull out a butcher's knife.

"You don't look bad yourself, Romeo!"

"Are you kidding me?" Dean complained, touching his slick black hair. "I look like a clown."

"No you don't," she said, running her hand over the lapels of his coat, fussing over him. "You look hot." She licked her lips. "I'd kiss you, but I don't wanna ruin the look with my lipstick."

"Screw the look," Dean said, reaching out for the small of her back and pulling her close. "I don't give a damn about the look."

He leaned in, but she put a finger to his lips. "If you kiss me now, we'd have to go right back home to finish what we started, and I don't want to miss tonight. It's such a big day for you."

Dean could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. She was so proud of him.

It wasn't a big deal. They were launching the paper today, but they all did it every month. For him, though, this was the first time. They had loved his pictures so much that a couple of them were being used in tonight's Halloween party as a backdrop with some Halloweeny stickers. Y/N had been delighted to know about that. It was right after telling her that, that Dean had asked her out to the party.

She had been excited about it from the get go, especially the dressing up part. Dean found it amusing that she was so excited about dressing up even though she did it for a living. That was until he found out what she was planning to dress up as. Honestly, he shouldn't have expected any less of her. She had somehow convinced him to dress up as Gomez Addams, complete with the temporarily colored black hair. He might have to take a couple of days to wash it off completely, but again, her happiness was so palpable that he didn't want to take it away. She was ravishing as Morticia.

All things considered, it was still better than her idea of dressing up as Ted Bundy and Clementine Barnabet. Dean had to talk her out of it. He loved that she was still wearing the printed socks that he had gifted her. The skull beanie had been a constant up until tonight.

As the day approached though, despite her initial reaction, Y/N seemed to grow a little anxious about it. Not enough to curb her enthusiasm, but definitely enough to not fully enjoy it. They had had fun with putting together the ensembles. For the past week, since their evening on the beach, Dean had woken up at ungodly hours to catch Y/N's closing act of the night. All eyes in the club hungered for one look at her, but her eyes only searched his, and Dean felt like his chest widened a couple of inches each time.

After each show, he'd wait behind the curtains to welcome her when she came back, not believing that the Nymph was his. The other girls were happy for Y/N. They were all around her age, but she had mentored almost all of them. It made him clearly see her for who she was- a giver. She did so much for the girls who could very well end up being her own competition, and she did so much for all those little girls in Mia's school, too. Seeing her interact, he also realized that she was a natural teacher, she loved to share what she knew, selflessly.

They scourged through the fancy costumes at the Elixir, trying to try out funny hats and coats, entertaining the girls who had been exhausted after entertaining people all night long. Y/N's eyes shined when she saw him accepting her life and everyone in it so easily. She kissed him harder that morning in the car.

They did find the perfect costumes for Gomez and Morticia, too, there.

Other girls passing them were dressed as nurses or hot assistants, making the most of the opportunity to wear revealing clothes without it being questioned and more credit to them, but there was something very endearing about Y/N's childish excitement about dressing up in two full length layers.

"C'mon!" He grinned, pulling her by her arm, but she didn't move.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?"

Dean huffed. "Now you're having cold feet about this? After you made me spend 2 hours in the bathroom trying to get the hair right?"

"No… Dean," she said, voice abruptly serious. "It's not that, I mean…"

"Hey," Dean put his hand against her soft cheek. "You alright? You're not feeling sick, are you? I told you not to overdo the shifts. In fact, you can take it easy now. Anyway you're quitting the job next month when all your installments for the apartment are paid."

"Dean. Listen." She put her hand over his… the one she was already holding. "Do you want to be seen here with me?"

"Y/N!"

She was quick to put up her hand. "Look… I'm not doubting you. You're like God's personal blessing who just happened to creepily drop into my apartment, but not everyone is as accepting as you. Someone might recognize me… and I'm used to all sorts of slurs, but you're not. I don't want to put you through that."

Her voice had consistently risen, and her eyes were widening with every said word.

"Shhh… Just stop panicking," he said, pulling her against his chest. "You're missing the whole goddamned point here. You think I'd be ashamed if someone said anything about you? Don't you get it by now that I'm just beyond thrilled to be with a fantastic person like you? The first night when I found you at Elixir, I didn’t leave because I was mad at you, I left because seeing me there was distracting you. I thought you knew that."

She shook her head. "I do know that, and I know you won't be ashamed… I thought you'd be more like… angry."

"If someone called you a bad name?"

She nodded meekly against his silky black lapels.

"We could always make them a customer in our newly furnished torture room," he shrugged. "Bet that will teach them to talk crap about hard working people."

She laughed, breaking completely free of the dismal Morticia façade. "You're crazy."

"Says you!" He said smiled, pecking her cheek. "That's very rich, don't you think?"

This time she let him take her in.

If it was a rainbow disaster outside, the inside was how the fairy world would look in the scene of an Armageddon. It was insane. Dean didn't know where to put his eyes. Wasn't Halloween supposed to be incredibly gloomy? Why was it so colorful?

"Hold me!" Dean said, grabbing Y/N by the shoulders. "I think my retinas are screaming for a savior."

"Shut up, it's not that bad," she admonished. "Besides, bright flashing lights are supposed to make you bold and all that. People dance without stopping to think what they look like."

"Seems fair." Dean looked at the centre of the floor where couples were trying to dance along the jazz tune.

"You wanna go out there?" She jerked her neck towards the floor.

"What? No!" Dean said, flustered. "I can't dance to save my life."

"It's not that hard… come, I'll show you."

He rolled his eyes. Of course she could.

Y/N pulled him towards the dance floor, but still away from the centre. She guided his hands to her waist and put both of hers on his shoulders. "Now you just sway from one side to another. See? Like this."

"I'm just gonna step on your dress and pull us both down," he warned trying to follow her. It wasn't fair that she was doing it so effortlessly and he was left to struggle.

"OMG, Y/N!" Hannah exclaimed, walking up from behind. "I didn't know Dean was gonna bring you along! You both look great."

Hannah was dressed like a Vampire… at least that's what Dean made out of the fangs and blood crusted lips.

"Cas, Meg!" She called out. "Look, Dean's here and he bought Y/N along."

Soon enough Dean's other two friends were there. Meg was wearing a red and black bodysuit with horns and tail, while Cas was dressed in a white suit with attached feathered wings, a halow perched on top.

"Angel and Demon?" Y/N asked. "That's very original."

"Hey, it wasn't my idea," Cas said, pulling her into a half hug. Dean wasn't really sure Y/N was the hugging type, but Cas just gave the vibe.

"You turned out to be way more badass than we gave you credit for," Meg grinned, nudging Y/N in the shoulder. "And there we were wondering how you could rock that limbo so hard."

It was hard to tell in the flashing lights but Y/N seemed to blush.

The DJ changed the song to a more upbeat one Meg pushed Y/N towards Dean, "C'mon, you guys, move it!"

"You wanna move it?" Y/N wiggled her eyebrows, grinding against him. Dean laughed but before he could reply, his eyes fell on Nick who was eyeing them from the sides.

"C'mere!" Dean pulled Y/N tightly against him, one hand sliding down her back to grab her ass, the other fisted in her hair, holding her to him. He brought his lips to her temple, kissing her softly, then deliberately dragged it along her cheek and down to the base of her neck. Sucking a mark exactly where he knew affected her the most. Y/N's moan was both muted and involuntary.

"Dean!" She giggled. It wasn't something she did often, but Dean loved the sound. He didn't stop there…. He let his lips travel along the column of her neck, hands roving all over her back.

Y/N's fingers gripped his coat tightly, her chest rising and falling against his own. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Nick had disappeared.

"Who are you putting on a show for, Winchester?" She said, reaching up to kiss his lips, not caring about the lipstick anymore apparently.

"No one of importance," Dean shrugged. "You mind putting on a show?"

"Nope… not at all. I do that for a living."

Dean didn't care if he had put Nick in his place, or not. Nick had sure tried to ruin it all for Dean, but ultimately hadn't it worked in his favor after all. For all he cared, Nick could go screw himself. He had Y/N, there would never be a bigger victory than that.

"So about Thanksgiving," Y/N said, "I can't really cook a turkey. I mean we invited all these people, and I can't cook to save the world."

"It's okay, we'll figure something out," Dean replied. "There's like a million cookbooks out there. Besides we can always order, and everyone is getting something or the other. If the turkey sucks, we can eat the mashed potatoes."

"But counting Mia and the girls, Sam and Jess, Cas, Meg and the couple of girls from the club, there's like 12 of us. Our apartment isn't big enough."

"Y/N. Stop panicking!" They had both stopped dancing by now and were just holding each other's hands. "We have almost a month to go. By then you'd have signed the papers for the building and we can do it in the basement."

She still didn't look convinced.

"Hey," Dean lowered his face to look into her beautiful eyes. "Even if they don't like the turkey, the newly minted torture equipment will keep them from saying anything." He winked.

"Seriously, Dean," she said, "I've never done this before. I don't know how to talk to people… what to talk to people about. I just- this feels so normal and I've never had normal before."

His heart broke for her. She wanted this and yet she was so scared of the unknown.

"You know the girls, Y/N. And Meg and Cas are friends. They like you. You know that!"

She nodded absent-mindedly. "What about Sam and his girlfriend?"

Dean scoffed remembering the conversation he'd had with his brother. "Sam thinks you're way out of my league. And Jess? I've met that girl. You don't need to talk, she'll talk enough for everyone in the room."

"Mhmmm…"

He pulled her back against his chest and they started moving in slow circles again.

"You'll have your dream, Y/N. We'll have a studio downstairs and Mia can live here. You can study something else at the University in the day and I'll get a job in a few years down the line. We can eat crappy food, play scrabble on weekends and have long walks on the beach. That is normal, right?"

"That doesn't sound too bad," she mumbled, and her voice was so hopeful, Dean was tempted to take one look at her face to know what she was really thinking.

"Do you want to head home?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head. "Let's stay a while. This feels normal and I like it."

She put her head back against his shoulder as swayed on the same spot. Dean didn't know what tomorrow held. Hell, all of this was so new to him that he couldn't even estimate what the next minute was going to bring. But as long as he was with Y/N, he knew he could do it. He could do anything. Dean was happier than he had ever expected to be in his life.

He was learning what he loved, his brother was happy and doing good in life and there was an incredible girl in his arms.

To say he was content would be an understatement.

He was fucking ecstatic.

Dean bent down to kiss Y/N's forehead. He could get used to it…. in fact, he would be the luckiest guy in the whole wide world, if this unconventional life became his normal.

*************************

A/N 2: This is it, guys! We are done with one more series. My immense gratitude to everyone who has commented, sent asks, and words of love. It’s meant more to me than I can ever tell you. Thank you so much!! Much love <3

So, did you guys like it???

A/N 3: Please do consider reblogging my work and leaving feedback. Reblogging helps spread it, and also helps against the “best posts first” option tumblr has. The more the notes, the less chance of it getting buried beneath others posts. And the comments are what keep me going. I love you guys and I’ll be in forever grateful <3

Here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

UR taglist:

@deanssweetheart23 @captainradicalpassion @docharleythegeekqueen @sleepless-sin @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @ohgodwhybloggg @roxyspearing @oneshoeshort @theofficialduke @wildlandfox @mrswhozeewhatsis @emoryhemsworth @dslocum89 @justacinnamonroll @fanfreak07 @dustycelt @serienjunkiegirl @thinkwritexpress-official @babykalika2001 @daskleinevolk @jayankles @blacktithe7 @pensysto @iyannamckague @shamelesslydean @crystallstaircase @melonberri @commander-meghan-shepard @trenchcoat-angel @smiling-meerkat @sprnaturallover @violinbetty @fandom-trash-worth-it @grace-for-sale @katsanders @samwinchesterfanfic @bluestarshining @torn-and-frayed @adaliamalfoy @anathewierdo @gabavaldman @brindz30 @heavymetalhauswife @sdavid09 @hatemeup @plaidstiel-wormstache @deannawinchesterpie @kit-kat-katie99 @jessieray98 @mlovesstories @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @directionernullneun @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @theoriginalvicki @angelessquirrel @thereisnolumos @julie121899 @mikid2000 @freekryptonitecloud @padasteph-nie @luna-plena-venandi @tiffy119 @linki-locks11 @mirandaaustin93 @pjofangirl18 @hunterswearingplaid @cookiechipdough @superlock-on-pc @daughterleftbehind @abumbling-bee @savanna1899 @imweirdandobsessed @emilycollins11 @diariesofthebeautyobsessed @bakabozza @imascio08 @luvspnandphan @stormisamystery @atc74 @aiaranradnay @bellastellaluna @deansgirl215 @xristina-gkika @almostelegantfire @infinity-dreamchaser @roonyxx @ericaprice2008 @akshi8278 @leatherandapples @ceisbill @alwaysdreamingforthebest

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #reader x dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester reader insert #anawrites #anawritesspn #Ana writes UR #Ana writes Dean #ur epilogue #q

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thewritewolf · 5 years

Text

Rekindle Chapter 25: Puss in Boots

Adrien and Marinette discuss the Mayor’s celebration over breakfast.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“A party, huh? About time we got some recognition.” Plagg swallowed the cheese wedge he had been working on whole, then floated towards the refrigerator.

“For once, I’m with Plagg on this,” Adrien said as he sat at the kitchen table. They hadn’t been awake for very long, but Marinette had already brought up Mayor Andre’s upcoming banquet at the city hall. “It’s nice to be rewarded for our good deeds, even if it is just an event in our honor.”

Marinette finished the eggs and toast she had made them for breakfast, sitting across from Adrien as they dug in. She gestured at him with a fork. “You make it sound like we’ve gone unappreciated all this time. We were barely a year into this when we got the first statue built for us, remember?” He conceded the point with a nod and they ate in silence for a few moments. “So… do you want to go?”

Adrien smirked. “Why, my lady, are you asking me to be your partner at the ball?”

“Not if you’re going to be weird about it,” she said with a teasing lilt to her voice. “Besides, it won’t be like a super fancy ball… right?” She’d done some sketches last night while waiting to become tired and none of them would work for a high class function.

Unfortunately, Adrien shook his head. “No, Andre has really gone all out for bigger, fancier parties in the last few years. I guess his businesses are doing pretty good or something? At least he has more money to flaunt. Anyway, he tends to prefer more high class gatherings these days. My…” He cleared his throat. “Gabriel and I were always invited.”

“But… everyone is invited to this one!” Even as she said that, her mind was thinking of new designs, the old ones effectively dead to her now.

“I’m sure he said that, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned away anyone not in a decent suit.” He took another bite and added without looking up. “It used to be that you had to have an Agreste wardrobe to enter, but something tells me that particular restriction isn’t going to be present this time around.”

Marinette absently stirred her coffee with a frown as she considered what Adrien had said. “So Gabriel and Andre were… friends then?”

To her surprise, he scoffed. “I don’t think he had friends, exactly. But they certainly had connections with each other.” He stared into his coffee, both hands wrapped around his cup as he set it on the table. “Maybe that’s why Andre is making this such a public event. Trying to distance himself from Gabriel as much as possible.”

“Maybe.” She smiled brightly, prying one of his hands off the cup and to hold it. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time. Assuming you still want to go?”

In an instant, the gloom that had started to surround him vanished. He returned her smile. “If you’re there, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“There’s my sweet kitty,” she whispered while gently running a hand along his cheek. More loudly, she asked, “Do you need me to design your outfit? I’ll be making mine, so it might be nice to be matching.”

He shook his head. “You’re amazing, but I don’t think there is enough time for you to make us both something. Besides, I think I’ve already got an idea.” He leaned back in his chair and looked towards the refrigerator. “Right, Plagg?”

Annoyed, the black kwami floated out of the appliance. “What are you on about, kid?”

“We can make modifications to our suits, right?”

“Yeah, I guess…” Plagg replied grudgingly.

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem for me to look like a musketeer?”

“Ughhh, that sounds like a lot of work.” Not for the first time, Marinette wondered how diligent, efficient Tikki had managed to put up with Plagg for this long. Or how Adrien had, for that matter.

“There’s camembert in it for you.”

“What do you think I’m eating now?” Plagg waved a wedge of cheese about as large as he was in front of Adrien.

“About as much camembert as you’ll be getting for the next month if you don’t help me.”

With a dramatic gasp, Plagg replied, “You wouldn’t.”

“You’d be surprised how far I’d be willing to go for love.”

As Plagg floated away, grumbling, Marinette asked, “Musketeer?”

“Yeah! That way I can be my lady’s dashing knight.”

She put her dishes away and returned to kiss Adrien’s cheek. “Aw, kitty. You’ll always be my dashing knight, no matter what you’re wearing.” As he beamed under her compliment she grinned and added, “My own little puss in boots. You’ll be so cute!”

“...I think I’ll stick with dashing knight, if it’s all the same to you.”

He stood up to take his own dishes to the sink, only to have Marinette hug him around the waist and obnoxiously yell into his chest, “PUSS. IN. BOOTS.”

Chuckling, he tried to shove her off, but failed to shift her. She assumed because he didn’t want to hurt her. “You're a ridiculous woman!”

Chin on his chest and looking up into his eyes, she murmured, “I am your ridiculous woman.”

He returned the hug after setting down his plate. “And I’m grateful for you always.”

“There’s my dashing knight.” Leaning forward on her toes, she caught his lips with hers. The day had officially begun.

--------------------------

The two weeks passed uneventfully as the two of them made their preparations for the party. It had taken some negotiating and fine tuning, but he had managed to get the suit done in just the way he had been envisioning it. His wide brimmed hat had a light green feather tucked inside it, to match his full black musketeer uniform. The only part of his suit he’d been unable to alter were his ears, mask, and baton. At least Marinette hadn’t seemed to mind.

Now it was the night of the party and Adrien found himself pacing nervously in their living room. It was the first time in months that he’d be out in public and expected to be social. While it would be as Chat Noir rather than Adrien, he was still worried. Even if he knew he had no reason to be afraid. For now, he stuffed those thoughts aside as he waited for Marinette to emerge in her dress. Despite his curiosity, he’d deliberately avoided watching Marinette work on her gown specifically to give this reveal all the more impact. And as she stepped out of their shared bedroom, he was glad that he did.

She’d really outdone herself this time, the pinnacle of class with her strapless, sweetheart neckline dress. The bodice of her dress was black, but with red Swarovski Crystals scattered across it. As his eyes floated downward, he noted the many layered chiffon ball gown and saw her genius unfold. While the first layer was black, it was semi-transparent, showing off the red with black polka dots of the lower layers. It was subtle and refined, but gorgeous. His eyes snapped to hers as she giggled. He caught a glimpse of a familiar ruby necklace that had caught his attention during a patrol a few days ago, and a less familiar bejeweled ladybug clip in her hair.

“See something you like, minou?” She gave him a smirk and she stopped in front of him, her red strappy pumps clicking against the wood floor.

“Only everything,” he said as he kissed her hand. He held out his arm for her. Once she had taken it, they made their way out of the apartment. “Are you ready to arrive at this party in style?”

“If by ‘style’ you mean, ‘the arms of a superhero,’ then yes. Though you might have to give me a couple minutes after we land to fix anything.”

He chuckled as they stepped onto the streets and he scooped her into his arms and pulled out his baton. “As you wish, my lady.”

---------------------------

To Marinette’s immense relief, they managed to get in without any trouble and were having a good time in the middle of their fifth song of the night. And despite her fears of being overdressed, they weren’t too out of place. Honestly, the only thing that set them apart from the crowd was-

“Gaudy stuff here tonight, isn’t it?” Chat whispered into her ear as they slow danced on the open floor, his hands on her hips and her arms around his neck. She had her head against his chest, quietly enjoying the fact that despite the modifications, his suit still smelled like leather and Adrien. “Not at all like what you made.”

“That’s… Well...” She bit her lip, trying to be tactful. But he was right, most of the outfits were a spectacle, sure, but they weren’t good quality. Already the floor was starting to get a fine layer of red and black dust from what was flaking off the worst outfits present. She shook her head, lips curling slightly in disgust at the poor craftsmanship. “I get the feeling some shops made a killing these last couple weeks.”

Chat snorted. “No wonder. The mayor kinda threw that theme out at the last minute, didn’t he? And not everyone has a master seamstress on hand to custom make dresses at the drop of a hat.”

“I’m not a master yet, but… thanks. And you’ve got a fair point. It all seems kinda last minute, doesn’t it?”

She was about to comment on a lack of Mayor Andre, but then the lights cut out except for a spotlight on the stage. The slow dance music was swapped out for something generic yet vaguely patriotic. Stepping into the light was the mayor himself. She didn’t feel like it had been that long since she had seen him in person last - as Ladybug, she often bumped shoulders with the man, whether she wanted to or not. Something about him always felt a little sleazy, even if he covered it up with his wealth and prestige.

The man now on the stage, however, felt like someone else entirely. He seemed to have aged twenty years in the span of a couple months and despite his wide smile, she could see the panic in his eyes, and the fear that he was barely able to conceal under a layer of false confidence, proved by the sweat dripping down his face.

Mayor Andre began his speech - something about rallying together and putting the past behind them. It quickly became clear that Marinette wasn’t alone in her observations. She picked up the words, ‘scandal’ and ‘corruption’ in the whispering around her. Maybe Adrien wasn’t too far off in his guess about why the festivities were being held in the first place.

A slight murmur washed across the room and Marinette pulled away from Chat, suddenly on alert as her eyes snapped back to the stage. Her eyes widened as she saw the mayor clutch at his chest and fall to his knees. Before anyone could do anything, the doors to the outside burst open, letting in five men covered head to toe in jagged, black plate armor, brandishing two handed swords. The crowd panicked as four of them began charging towards them, leaving the fifth to approach the mayor.

She glanced over at Chat Noir, who was watching her in turn. She nodded to him and a spark passed between them, a moment of perfect understanding.

They were still heroes, and these people needed their help.

#Miraculous Ladybug #MarichatMay2019 #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Chat Noir #Adrienette #Marichat #ml fanfiction #my writing #Rekindle

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likethetailofacomet · 6 years

Text

Viewing Party

So the other night @ooo-barff-ooo and I were talking about how much we loved our TRR MCs, Claire Berkley and Joanna Malone, and how it would be cool if they were friends and I was like well what if they were and then this happened.

Without further ado, I give you the ultimate friendship of C and J, getting drunk together and watching everyone’s favorite fairy tale on live television: The Royal Romance- Liam and Riley’s wedding.

FEATURING: JOANNA MALONE, CLAIRE BERKLEY, AND DAN DAN THE BARTENDER MAN.

“See you tomorrow, Dan,” Claire called from behind the bar. “Same bat time, same bat place.” He said over his shoulder. He gave a one handed wave and strode toward the front door and sweet freedom. He’d been there since 11 am and it was approaching midnight- the joys of working a double shift- and he was due for another one in the morning, so he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Claire had come in at 5pm, and would sling drinks until last call at 4am, when the shift workers and doctors and construction guys and fisherman had had either thier first or last drinks of the night. Joanna would open, Dan would pull the double, and Claire would close. That was the general flow.

Tonight, though, was not a general night. At roughly 5 am EST the most anticipated marriage of the year would be televised live- the Cordonian Royal Wedding-New York bartender Riley Brooks was rising to the rank of queen as she married future king Liam Rys after falling in love with him in the most modern of Cinderella stories: she took out the trash at his bachelor bash and ended up stealing his heart and his hand.

Claire checked on her ten or so customers, making sure that all of their glasses were full before slipping into the closet they called a kitchen. There was a single basket fryer, a flat top that could fit no more than four frozen burger patties, and a coffee maker. She reached for the can of Folger's on the top shelf and scooped some of it into the brew basket before jamming it into the machine and pressing "start". She leaned against the counter ledge as she waited for the deep brown liquid to fill the little clear pot, pulling her phone from her apron to text Joanna.

-Hey girl, you're stopping for snacks right? I'm starving.

Jo had been off from work since 5pm when Claire got in. She'd gone home and taken a nap before running a few errands for the viewing party they'd been planning ever since they saw that first tabloid article about the Prince choosing his bride. Claire and Jo were not the type of girls who would normally get so involved in the billion dollar weddings of fancy rich nobles and dignitaries around the world- hell they had been invited to Steve's wedding- a guy they used to work with and actually knew without the need for magazine or television coverage- and despite their manager saying that they could close the bar for a night so everyone could go to the wedding, Claire and Jo declined, not really liking Steve...or weddings. "I have a school thing that night...um...presentation. Of my...thesis," Jo had said. She was working on her Master's degree while slaving at Keagan's, so her excuse seemed to work, even though it was a summer course and she wouldn't actually be working on her thesis for another five months. "And um, I have an...appointment that afternoon that....I can't reschedule..." Claire chimed in her thinly veiled excuse. She did have an appointment...for hair color...and she'd really rather not reschedule it just to go sit at Steve's wedding. But this wedding, dubbed "The Royal Romance" by the media, was a different story, namely for who would be standing next to the Prince as he said his "I do's".

-Um, did you see the pictures of the Prince's friend? The dude with the hair and the eyebrows and the denim? He's all the snack we need, C. (but yes I also got snacks for eating)

Claire laughed at Jo's response, typed out a quick one back saying how excited she was, and then poured herself a large black coffee before heading back to the bar to finish up her shift. As the last patron stumbled out the door and it shut with a tingling of bells, she flipped the sign to the closed side, locked the door and turned off the neon lights in the windows. She went back to the bar cooler and took a tray of jello shots out, setting them on the freshly cleaned bar top. She then went to her bag and took two brightly colored headbands that she’d attached lace and tooling and feathers and beads to, and set them next to the shots. Changing the channels on all the televisions to various news stations, she sat back and enjoyed the “pregame coverage” of the wedding while she waited for Joanna. Just as she finished the last of the coffee she’d brewed hours earlier, she heard a tapping at the window and looked over to see her friend waving excitedly and holding up a bag. Claire set her empty coffee mug down and crossed the bar to open the door and let Jo in.

“Welcome to the wedding of the century, Madame,” Claire greeted her with a flourish and a funny bow.

Jo did an awkward curtsy. “Why thank you Madame, so pleased I could join you.” The two dissolved into laughter and headed over to the bar. Joanna hopped up onto a stool and took stock of the things Claire had laid out while adding the bag she’d brought with her. She picked up one of the headbands and laughed. “Oh my god, Claire, did you really make us fascinators?”

Claire raised her eyebrows. “Um, yeah I made us fascinators! Riley has been obsessed with fancy hats throughout the whole social season! Homegirl would not shut up about them- like, every chance she could get to wear one she did and she even brought them up in interviews… I thought it would be weirder if I didn’t make us fascinators.”

“Good point. I really don’t know how Prince Liam is looking past that. He must really love that dizzball.” Joanna plopped the colorful headpiece on top of her noggin and Claire took the other one and shoved it into her frizzy hair. Next Joanna picked up one of the shots Claire had made. “Ew, Jell-o shots?” she made a face, pulling one half of her mouth up to show her disgust.

“Caramel apple jell-o shots, to be exact. You know, because Cordonia’s obsessed with apples? And caramel because I’m obsessed with caramel.” She shrugged. “Once we’re a few drinks in we won’t care if they’re gross.”

“So true my friend. So,” she opened the shopping bag she’d had with her and pulled out several small plastic containers. “We’ve got…olives…stuffed grape leaves…and, drum roll,” Claire obliged, rapping her pointer fingers on the bar top. “Baklava! You know cause,” Jo shrugged, “Cordonia, Greece…they’re sorta the same right?”

“Sure. Probably not but sure.” Claire laughed and Joanna tossed an olive at her.

“Okay well they are tonight. Also,” next she pulled out a sheet of paper. “I made up a drinking game for this here wedding.” On the screen they were showing a photo montage of Riley and Liam from all the different events from the social season. “Okay, rules- If anyone mentions apples, or there’s a flag with apples or we see an apple tree or they say “Cordonian Ruby”, we take one of these gross shots here,” she pointed to Claire’s Jell-o shots. “Any time we see fancy hats, or some noble lady curtsies or some dude in a suit bows, we take a sip of our ciders. If they call Riley “The American” we finish ‘em.”

“Wait, let me get this straight. You made up a drinking game with no whiskey involved?” Claire asked, skeptically narrowing her eyes at Joanna.

“I wasn’t done, C! Okay, so any time Mr. broody Mc Brooderson Drake Walker, love of our lives and real reason that we are watching this ridiculous wedding at 5am, is shown looking like he wants to kiss Riley, we do a shot of whiskey in his angsty honor. I was going to suggest Fireball but-“

“But you remember the holiday party from last year. Yeah, everyone does,” Claire hid her face in her hands embarrassed, preferring to forget that night and the drunken mess she’d been.

“Right. I remembered the holiday party and how Fireball turns you into a demon. So, I figured SoCo would do.”

“Yeah, that’s never made me dance on the bar while trying to fight Steve, so good call.”

Joanna nodded. “Any rules you want to add?”

Claire thought for a moment and then something blue and…unique…caught her eye on the screen. They were talking about Maxwell Beaumont again, and his propensity to wear themed suits. He had this hilarious blue suit with a squid on it; even the bow-tie was a tiny cephalopod. “Oh! Yes! Every time they have to pan away from that,” she pointed to Maxwell in the suit, “so as not to ruin a picture or a shot, we take a cider sip.”

Joanna laughed. “Deal. Oh! Its starting!!” She spun her stool so she could lean back against the bar to watch. Claire poured them each a cider and they clinked them together before taking a sip, pinkies out. “Ugh, and to think, this girl worked right down the street from us. Like, this coulda been us, C!”

Claire blinked before they both burst into laughter. “Yeah we’d both make excellent queens, I’m sure.”

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Dan unlocked the bar door and opened it, setting the bells jingling. Before he had even set one foot inside, he heard the raucous laughter of his two best friends, and shook his head wondering what he was about to walk into. “Is it just me, Jo, or does the Queen Mother look like a Royal Ducking Bitch?” Claire’s voice was sing songy and full of laughter.

Joanna was laying her arms and top half on the bar top, laughing hysterically, almost to the point where she couldn’t get her words out. She managed to respond, “Quack, mother ducker!!” before giggles swallowed her ability to speak further.

“Did…did you two really just autocorrect yourselves?” Dan called, hands on his hips taking in the scene in front of him. They each had a funny looking headband dangling from their heads, empty jello glasses littered the bar, and at least three shots of whiskey each sat next to them. If only Drake hadn’t been pining for Riley The American Queen so badly, they wouldn’t have had to nearly finish the bottle of SoCo.

“Yes, Dan, we are at a fancy ducking event here.” Claire pointed to her fascinator, to how it was barely staying together after she and Jo had danced and drank and laughed and flopped against the bar top.

“Yeah, and we can’t be ducking rude and curse like sailors, Dan!” Joanna chimed in. “The Queen would not allow it!”

“She would not!” they had put on silly accents by now, not coming anywhere close to the Cordonian accent…or any accent in the world, really, but forcing so much laughter from one another that they cried.

“Okay tweedles C and J,” Dan clapped them both on the back. “Outta my bar, you drunkards. Go sleep off the wedding, I’ll see you back for your shifts in a few hours.” Now it was his turn to laugh almost to the point of tears, as they both groaned thinking about bartending while hungover at 3 in the afternoon.

“Worth it,” Jo said to Claire, high fiving her sloppily.

“Totally.” Claire answered.

tagging people who i think might find this funny even though its really the most gratuitous thing i’ve ever posted: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @brightpinkpeppercorn @zaffrenotes @endlessly-searching-for-you @mind-reader1 @andy-loves-corgis @agent-bossypants

#claire berkley #joanna malone #frands #trr #the royal romance #c & j au #viewing party #girl gang #fascinating fascinators #fancy hats #pinkies out #riley brooks #liam rys #liam x riley #liam x mc

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years

Text

Wrought Iron Machine (Part 23)

I swear to God I spell Ghazan’s name differently every single time but like who needs proofreading. *Shrug*

Azula thinks herself to be recklessly ambitious at best and something of a flat out fool at worst. She dresses herself in tribal wear. Around her neck and in her hair, she wears a splendid plume of bright red and yellow feathers with a dash of orange here and there. Equally adorned in feathers is a gold fringed bra with many beads and dangling gems. It is a risky apparel choice for a high scale event. But Fire Of Agni is high risk--everything about them. In way of a skirt she wears an authentic Sun Warrior piece--all four of them will wear such. They will all perform barefoot and with a simple golden band around their biceps.

Her hair is tied up in a high ponytail, fashioned into a golden cuff. In her bangs are a few wooden beads. Under her eyes are three horizontal finger trails of golden face paint.

Zuko stands at the opposite end of the room, entirely topless, exposing his new chest piercings. Azula had questioned that decisions but ultimately it is up to him what he has pierced. He too has weaved some feathers into his hair. Alongside the vertical face paint over his unscarred eye is a similar trail down his chest.

Trying to use her voice as little as possible, Azula motions TyLee over. The girl skips over. She has gone overboard on the feathers. Azula pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “You’re going to have to pluck some of those feathers.” She instructs in a whisper. She helps TyLee pick a few feathers from her braid and her outfit. She replaces them with a wood-bead necklace.

“Can you give me a hand?” Mai asks from across the room. She instructs Zuko where to weave the shells into her hair, muttering something about how she’ll have the stylists fix it later. She waves off Zuko’s reluctance with a flick of a wrist decorated with a bamboo and palm leaf bracelet. She fingers the shark tooth necklace Zuko gifted to her.

After fussing a tad more with TyLee’s outfit, Azula turns her attention back to her own appearance. Her stylist finally emerges with overly large gold-plate earrings. With careful hands they fix them into her ears and begin brushing her hair. She watches the other members of their makeup artist team get to work on the other three. She instructs the man doing her hair to give it some waves.

“Oh you look so, so cute, Azula!”

She is going for fierce, perhaps even a little feral. But she doesn’t protest, she has to save her voice for more pressing things. Instead she nods in way of a thank you.

“You all look so cute!” TyLee claps her hands together. She fishes around in her personal bag and snaps a few photos. Azula frowns, she wasn’t picture read. TyLee throws her arms around her and snuggles her.

“Careful with my make up.” Azula says softly. “We don’t have time to do it all over again.”

“Oh sorry.” TyLee loosens her hold.

As soon as she runs up to Mai, Zuko approaches her. “Are you sure you want to do this? You can just play your guitar and TyLee can fill in for you.”

Azula shakes her head. “I need to do this Zuko.”

She sees him bite the inside of his lip. She is worrying him.

“I’ll be fine.” Azula insists as as one of the makeup artists adds a few final touches. “I promise.”

Their crew packs up their tools and Azula motions for her bandmates to stand before her.

When all is said and done, Azula is satisfied. She has worked hard to design their costumes and they have come together just as perfectly as she had planned. Perhaps, better, with their hair and makeup in order.

Her content smile fades.

She can’t help but feel as though they’ve gotten all dressed up for nothing.

.oOo.

Kuvira stands in her dressing room, her stylist just having finished fashioning her hair into a elegant and braided low side bun. It had been tricky to find the perfect outfit so last minute, having something custom made had been out of the question. So instead she wears something she found a second-hand store of all places. Deep forest green in color and with a high, black collar. She had handed it over to the band designer and let the woman and her team make tweaks and adjustments. To make it into something more unique. The woman hasn’t failed her. Her stitchwork is impressive with lovely embroidered patterns. She has taken it upon herself to adorn the hem and sleeves with black gems and sequins. All in all it is a rather ritzy gown.

Baatar chooses to wear the dress suit and top hat from the music video. Their designer pins a few broaches to the left chest area; their logo, a guitar, a saxaphone, and a music note among other small symbols.

She slips into the dress and asks Baatar to help her with the zipper. To her relief it goes up without a hitch. She smooths the fabric down and drapes her arms over Baatar’s shoulders. He kisses her on the cheek, sending her teardrop earrings swaying. “You’re going to do wonderful tonight.”

Kuvira rubs his shoulders. “As long as you’re here I will.”

The man flushes and rubs the back of his head. She intends to draw the small moment out. But P’Li barges in. “Have you seen my monocle anywhere?”

“Have you tried your own dressing room?” Kuvira quirks a brow.

“That’s the first place I checked.” She grumbles, pushing at her conductors hat. The V shaped tail of her suit flap about as she picks her way through the room. Her dress shoes click loudly on the ground.

“I found it!” Ghazan calls. He gives P’Li a second to look over before tossing the eyepiece to her. The man standing in the doorway looks more suave than he has in a long while in his long tailcoat with his beard and long sweep of hair combed and styled nicely for a change. He has a few copper pieces threaded into his hair and beard, she could imagine that Ming fancied it.

The woman appears next to him clad in a pair of over-large goggles and a pair of loose fitting overalls. In the pocket are a faux wrench and a faux hammer, they will serve as her drumsticks tonight.

Fashion-wise they are at their best, they will match well with the mechanic, orchestral atmosphere they are trying to create while Kuvira does her best to represent the jazz side of the band.

With luck, they will bring their crowd into a new world, at least for the twenty or so minutes it takes them to play their introduction and sing their three songs.

Kuvira checks her makeup a final time and asks her stylist to highlight her beauty mark a little more as another works to curl a few more strands of loose hair. She inspects the other three and asks if they have any final requests.

“Make my face look more dusty.” Ming instructs. A good idea if she is going to be playing a mechanic.

The stylists take a step back and Kuvira takes it with them. She observes the band as a whole, finding herself satisfied. She goes to join them and motions for their photographer to do his thing. The camera flashes.

Kuvira picks up her decorative cane and leads them to the designated seating area.

.oOo.

They watched an hour’s worth of bands some of them more pleasing than others. Though she absolutely hated some of them, stylistically--Kyoshi’s Power Fist to name one--but regardless they were all undoubtedly talented. Kyoshi’s Power Fist, if nothing else had been unique with their corpse paint and guttural vocals. They were among the new debuts. It is the very same category Fire Of Agni are about to perform under.

Azula is dissatisfied to know that, that meant she will be among the first few bands to perform. But they are the last of the newer bands. With luck the crowd has been warmed up enough.

Standing behind the curtain she is horrifically nervous, maybe even downright terrified. But they need this. They need this more than anything or they will have nothing. Nothing but a smug Ozai taunting them. She is a mess up away from having to resort to begging the man to take her back.

“You’re gonna do great.” TyLee gives her a quick kiss. On a normal day it would have washed the nerves away.

“I hope so.”

She hears the announcement and they are on stage. It puts a dismal pang in her heart to leave the introduction fully to Zuko. “It took a lot to get here.” He announces. “When we started out we could barely scrape together a simple music mover. We were just a small candle.”

The crowd cheers.

“Now we’re here.” He pauses. “And our Fire Of Agni can’t be extinguished.”

The knot returns to her belly; perhaps water and bad press can’t put them out. But a small cyst can smother them completely.

“Get ready Southern Air Sounds, because we…”

“Are the flame!” The crowd chants over him.

Without missing a beat, Azula tears into the first song that they have written. Normally she would save that one for last, but Agni forbid she can’t make it through the whole show. She wants to start strong.

The guitar wails in her hands, in tune with Mai’s bass. TyLee is surrounded by a collection of drums both standard and tribal. If all went according to plan, her drum display will be surrounded by a ring of dancing flame.

So far things are going well, she is forcing out her screams, powerful as ever while Zuko provides backing vocals and a steady flow of fire. Halfway through she sends a thin trail of flames in the direction of TyLee. The wall dances around their drummer as she wails on the cymbals. With each hit, Azula and Zuko flare the flames higher until the song fades out.

The crowd is frantic with cheers. So much so that Zuko almost can’t announce their second song. One of their newer ones. Azula passes her guitar to him so that she can move through a Sun Warrior traditional belly dance. It is something of a cop out, but she likes to think it a clever one. Fire Of Agni has never performed an instrumental version of any of their songs. Not until now. But it leaves a critical window of rest for Azula’s tortured vocal cords.

She tries not to dwell on the injury as TyLee begins. Instead she sets the scene, trying her best to imitate what her music mover had in terms of the haunting blue lighting. TyLee is doing a stunning job of creating a foreboding sound. It is a low and rhythmic pounding of a large fox-deer hide drum. TyLee beats upon it slow and steady with a single drumstick nearly as large as the drum itself. Next to her stands a newly hired woman. She is draped in a feathered cloak with a shekere. Every few beats, the woman gives it a shake. For herself, Azula occasionally gives her rainstick a shift. With each beat a new cloaked figure emerges. One stands with a kora gitar another stands with a small balafon. TyLee has worked tirelessly to teach others to play djembe drums and bongos among other things. TyLee ends the ominous intro with a hit on a gong. A moment of pause and Zuko and Mai begin with their guitar and bass respectively.

Azula has worked just as tirelessly as TyLee to learn this traditional dance inside and out. The beads in her hair smack against her neck and back as she goes through the twirling parts of the dance. The gems stones glimmer across her middle as she shifts and rolls her waistline. The crowd is wholly quiet, they listen more closely than they have in a long while. Towards the end of the song, the guitar and bass fall silent. The song tapers off into a rhythmic beating of the drums. And Zuko comes to dance with her. A highly intimate dance. Close with his body pressed against hers and his hands trailing over her torso.

That is when she spies Ozai in the crowd. The man crosses his arms, his face the picture of disgust.

Azula ignores the man, her performance is better than it ever has been and she isn’t going to sabotage it just to make the man uncomfortable.

By the end of their dance the room falls into complete silence again. They leave no room for cheers and get right into their final song. The song Azula has been dreading. The one with the shrillest shriek midway through.

Her voice seems to have already reached its limit by the end of the first chorus. Her mind screams at her to cut the show short. But ambition takes over. She moves into the tricky climax of the song. She lets out a scream but it isn’t the one she had in mind. Her voice cracks and pain sears through her throat.

It is instinct to try to cry out in pain.

She fights back tears.

And she makes a mistake.

She looks into the crowd.

The smirk on Ozai’s face is wickedly smug.

Azula’s stomach lurches. He has come to watch her fall and he is getting the show he paid for. Her voices has failed her.

She has failed her band.

Failed herself.

.oOo.

Kuvira cringes at the sound that tears from her rival’s throat. Reflexively, she grips Baatar’s hand. It isn’t normal. It is pained and horrible. And she feels some sort of secondhand agony.

There is something overwhelmingly unsettling about watching the poor girl get escorted by a team of paramedics from the stage. It is a wonder the girl is keeping herself together. Deep down, Kuvira knows that the girl will break behind the curtains.

She looks to Baatar who wears a sympathetic grimace.

But the fire isn’t extinguished. The band pushes on with the girl’s brother taking her parts and the drummer taking his. Kuvira is impressed with their quick thinking. Though it leaves her with a sneaking suspicion that they were well aware that the girl was having vocal trouble.

Kuvira is left with way too much time to dwell on it. She finds it hard to pay attention to any of the following bands. She can’t focus on Tears Of Yue, the new band she had been looking forward to. She hopes that she will calm by the time Wan Shi Tong’s Waltz, the very band that inspired her to start her own, took to the stage. They are on after her band, she is thankful for that. With luck she will be able to watch them and enjoy them in full without having to worry about her nerves.

For the time though, they are frayed and frenzied. She simply can’t get the sound of the Fire Of Agni girl’s faltering scream out of her mind. Out of her ears.

She forces it to the back of her mind as she is beckoned backstage.

Wrought Iron Machine is one of the last bands to perform. It is both intimidating and thrilling. She knows how these shows work, they start with lesser known bands to warm up the crowd and move into the esteemed and renowned ones. She is starstricken to be among them. Only Tui & La, Chong And The Nomads, and Wan Shi Tong’s Waltz perform after them.

It settles her anxiousness some to know that, even if they don’t win, they are famous enough to perform nearly last. They are on in ten minutes. That leaves her with ten minutes to sooth her baby. She is under the impression that her own anxiousness has reached the child-to-be. She rubs circles on her belly in an attempt to get the baby to stop squirming so much. It takes Baatar kissing her belly and murmuring something soft and cooing to sooth the babe. Baatar rests his hands on her waist and presses his forehead to hers until they are called onto the stage.

They have a few extra minutes as their full orchestra plays through an extended version of what will be their newest album.

“Let’s kick some fuckin’ ass everyone!” P’Li shouts, as Ghazan pops a bottle. He fills all of their glasses until he comes to Kuvira, “sorry, none for you.” With a boyish grin he skips over her glass and fills Baatar’s.

“Fuck you too, Gazhan.” Kuvira jests.

“Here.” Ming holds out one of her watery arms. “Drink.”

“Gee, thanks, Ming.”

Baatar chuckles.

They set their glasses to the side. P’Li and Gazhan make their way on stage first. Ming waits for the claps to die down before following them. And then She and Baatar wait for round two to die off. She lets the venue go completely quiet before they walk, hand in hand, onto the stage. Her cane thumps on the floor and echos.

She skips the greetings and goes right into her operatic introduction. After another moment of quiet Baatar and P’Li start in with their lead and rhythm guitar and Ghazan follows with his bass and Ming with her drums. The orchestra doesn’t begin until the chorus.

The set itself is a chaotic flurry of moving cogs, wheels, and spokes. A fully functioning and whirring machine that spits smoke and sparks at designated intervals. It doesn’t take on a particular shape, it is more or less a collection of clanging parts that look aesthetically pleasing.

The crowd is hyper with an energetic buzz that they had lacked since Baatar’s near departure. Kuvira grins at the crowd. Their first song comes to a close and her nervousness give way to exilheration. “It’s wonderful to be here again.” Kuvira leaves a pause for applause. “How long has it been, Baatar?”

“Ten years.” He replies.

“Ten years.” Kuvira repeats. “Ten years since we first came here. We were just a rookie group.” She runs her fingers through her hair. “Raava, I didn’t expect us to get this far.” The smile doesn’t leave her face. Because she has made it, they have made it. She wishes that her childhood self--even her teenage self--could see her. “For a second I thought that…”

Baatar rubs her back. “But we have. And of course we have the lot of you to thank for giving us enough attention to land a spot here.”

“And for supporting us despite our…” she considers her words. “Our mishap.”

The crowd gives another uniformed cheer.

“You guys kick ass!” P’Li announces.

Ghazan pulls out another bottle. “If you got a drink, you better drink with us. Most of us anyways, Kuvira still isn’t invited.”

This time the crowd gives a few light-hearted boo’s.

“Pregnant.” Ming points out.

Another round of cheering. “Congratulations!” She can’t place where in the crowd the booming voice has come from. Kuvira gives a soft laugh, looking down to cover a light blush, and wipes some locks out of her face. “Thank you.”

Ghazan finishes his toast and they enter their second song. She scans the crowd for the frontman of Wan Shi Tong’s Waltz. It sends a pleasant trill up and down her spine to see the man nodding his approval at their new take on jazz. It is surreal to have her idol staring up at her with approval.

She unravels her braid and tosses her head back for the final note.

She doesn’t think too much of it, moving into their final song just feels so natural. She may not be able to dance with her baby bump in the way, but she can still give the crowd a show. She puts extra care into her vocals; working with flawlessly through more difficult vibratos.

She adds a flare of metalbending from shifting platforms up and down for she and her bandmates to stand upon to crafting herself a case of stairs to lean on when the baby started acting up.

Normally with a crowd so energetic and lively she would enter it. But her management and doctors had advised against so she leaves that to Ghazan and P’Li, settling for simply brushing fingers with front row attendees.

Ghazan and P’Li finish out the song from within the crowd. The last note echos about the venue only to be swallowed up by cheering and hollering. Kuvira is grinning rather uncontrollably. Perhaps even laughing. One hand falls to her baby bump and the other holds her microphone to her lips. She manages a few thank you’s before they are motioned off of the stage.

They have made it.

Victory or none, they have left an impression.

#Avatar #Legend Of Korra #Kuvira #Azula #Baatar #Zuko #P'Li #TyLee #Ming-Hua #Mai #Ghazan #Fanfiction

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