#a time when small Juniper just makes sense ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

an-idyllic-novelist · 2 years ago

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Rudra headcanons with Tanjiro!fem!reader

warnings: anime/manga spoilers, ooc, violence

Here it is guys, my collaboration work @deathmetalunicorn1. Definitely go check out their blog, they are an incredible writer and deserve lots of love! @praisethesuuun I really hope you will like this piece as I know how much you adore this big guy :) With that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy! :)

You rested your hand against a tree, panting softly as you wiped a small bead of sweat from your brow, having been hiking in these mountains for almost two hours, the blue-hazy skies darkening to nighttime. If it weren’t for the full moon tonight, traveling through here would be a lot more difficult. Thankfully Nezuko was sleeping soundly in her box that was strapped on your back, not stirring by your uneven steps as you resumed the ascension to a high peak in the Hindu pantheon.

Although you had done your best to persuade the Hashira and Lord Ubuyashiki in the trial that Nezuko would not attack humans, Lord Hades was not convinced. He will, however, grant you an opportunity to prove yourself as an unofficial member of the Demon Slayer Corps. This is the mission you and Nezuko were currently undertaking: investigate reported sightings of demons, and if able, eradicate them. They were supposedly hiding within this very mountain range, targeting the gods in the Hindu pantheon to test their strength and devour their opponent’s divine flesh.

Hades left the decision up in the air if you think you could handle the demon, which did make you feel a little hopeful. He was starting to trust you a bit more after you completed your last few missions. That’s good, right? It had to be. If that wasn’t the case, you’d still be at the Butterfly Mansion, anxiously waiting for your next assignment.

You reached a clearing near some rocks when a cacophony of sounds reached your ears; the sound of bones breaking, blows being landed, and yelling. Your eyes widened in horror before quickening your pace, breaking into a sprint as the noise got louder in the northwest direction. You zigzagged through the juniper trees, narrowly dodging the branches, never slowing down till you saw a four-armed, tattooed deity exchanging fists with a drooling, pale demon. The other two were sneaking in the shadows, ready to pounce for a sneak attack.

If it wasn’t the sight of a god trying to take on three demons did not shock you, it was the sight that they, and you, were standing in a field of bright red spider lilies. Blue ones bloomed right in the center, where the fighting was taking place. Some of the petals were missing, other flowers were uprooted entirely, meaning that these demons must have eaten the blue spider lilies to gain an energy boost and an immunity to the sunlight.

They had to be destroyed, now.

You quickly drew your sword. “Get down!!” Inhaling sharply through your teeth and catapulting into the air, the tip of the flaming nichirin blade slicing through the surrounding trees, the invisible threat, and finally, decapitating the lurking demons. You landed in front of the deity, who looked quite shocked at seeing someone rescuing him.

Perhaps gods aren’t used to being helped when they’ve done all the helping.

The third demon snarled as his amber orbs glared darkly at you. “Do not interfere, Demon Slayer!”

You shifted your feet, ready to attack when suddenly the weight on your back shifted, causing you to jostle more to the right as you felt Nezuko’s foot slam the box open…just to see your adorable little sister leap out and attack a fourth demon that you hadn’t seen nor sensed. They must be getting smarter at concealing their scent!

While Nezuko handled that one, you dealt with the other demon, attacking it first with the Hinogami Kagura. You could trust Nezuko to fight against a demon…she’s proven to you time and time again that she isn’t weak; she’s strong, stronger than anyone you’ve ever known. Because of that strength, that will, she didn’t give into the hunger nor succumb to Muzan’s control.

Once both demons were dispatched, your tense shoulders relaxed as you carefully sheathed the black blade back into its scabbard. You swiveled your gaze to the deity, seeing that he was siting against one of the trees and clutching his side. Unknotting the dark purple pouch from your belt on the left side, you raced over to him and began pulling out gauze, medicinal oils, and a few other things Shinobu gave to you before leaving the Butterfly Mansion for this mission.

“Are you all right? Are you in any pain? Do you feel dizzy, nauseous? Did any of the demons scratch you?” You fired question after question as your hands opened the jar of oil for bruising and pain relief, praying that he had not been poisoned. He didn’t seem to be showing any symptoms, but should you have Nezuko use her Blood Demon Art to purify the toxins that might still be in his system?

He was silent for a moment before he quickly answered. “No, they just tried to overwhelm me with a barrage of punches, though one of them did get close to scratching me. No dizziness, don’t feel sick either. Would…something happen if they did scratch me?”

You nodded, carefully spreading the peppermint-scented oil into his skin, muttering an apology as he flinched. “You would have been poisoned, and there would be purple spots all over your skin by now, followed by difficulty breathing and heart beating rapidly,” You looked up at him and smiled. “I’m so glad I made it in time before things got worse!”

Nezuko hummed in agreement, extending a clawed hand and giving him a pat on the head. The deity blinked before he gave you a grin. “Thank you, both of you. I had no idea those…demons would be all the way up here. One moment I was training, then the next, I was going toe-to-toe with them!”

“Did any of them eat those blue flowers over there?” You asked.

“Uh, yeah. Two, maybe all four? Sorry, everything happened so fast-”

“No need to apologize!” You quickly reassured him. “I just need to document what happened here and send it back with my lord’s crow to headquarters. Would you mind giving a statement?”

“No, of course not. Whatever you need.”

You beamed. “Thank you!” Now that the oil was rubbed thoroughly into his skin, you made quick work with wrapping the gauze around his stomach and the bruised areas. Once it was secure but not too tight, Hades’ majestic and very large crow landed by your feet, cawing. Around its neck was a scroll.

Pulling out an ink stone and brush from a compartment on the top part inside Nezuko’s box, you poured some of the water from your leather canteen (another gift from Shinobu, she’s so thoughtful! And it’s from a foreign country too!) into the ink stone.

Carefully rubbing the ink stick up and down, a small puddle of obsidian ink appeared in the center of the stone. Grabbing the pen and carefully removing the scroll from the crow’s neck, you wrote in great detail what had happened here, including Rudra’s account of the events and the discovery of the blue spider lilies. Lord Hades valued reports that were detailed but not too long or unrelated to the mission.

At least your calligraphy was getting better!

Once you were satisfied with the report, you placed the rolled up scroll back around the crow’s neck and watched it flight, disappearing into the night skies. Turning your attention to Rudra, you almost laughed at seeing Nezuko sitting in his lap, curiously playing with his hands.

“I don’t want to be rude, but why would a bunch of flowers like these…blue spider lilies, be so important to demons? As I recalled, they gain their strength by eating human flesh.”

You nodded, collecting the medical supplies and putting them back in the pouch. “And you’re absolutely correct, Lord Rudra. Human flesh does increase their abilities, including physical strength. But when a blue spider lily is consumed by a demon, it grants them the ability to withstand the sunlight. They’re…nocturnal? That’s what Aoi and Kanao told me.” You thought for a moment before nodding. “Yes, that’s it. They’re active at night, but if they can’t find shade once the sun comes up…they’re as good as dead. They burn up, catch on fire.”

Rudra released a low whistle. “No wonder they were pissed when they saw me near them. They must’ve thought I’d try to take them or something. So…you’re a Demon Slayer. I’ve heard about you guys…but does this sort of thing…happen all of the time?” He asked, gesturing his hands to the area around the three of you.

Smiling sheepishly, you scratched the back of your head.

“Not always. Most of my missions are reconnaissance and information gathering, like this one should have been, but there’s no predictable pattern when it comes to a demon’s behavior. Still, at least I know for certain that the blue spider lily does exist…whether it will make Nezuko a human again or speed up her demonic transformation is another question.” You frowned sadly, looking down at the blue flower in your hand. “I’m beginning to think it’s more of the latter, unfortunately. Those demons were definitely stronger than ones I’ve encountered so far, and I think it’s because of this plant. Shinobu might know more when I show her some samples. I’ll collect some more to bring back. I hate to ask, but may you make sure she stays with you and not go near me as I collect them, just in case?”

Rudra nodded. He didn’t see much of a problem with entertaining the little one while you did your task. She was adorable, and seemed to love swinging off his biceps. You quickly plucked several of them, carefully storing them in a pouch and tied it to your hip, securing the string near your sword. Nezuko took a little persuasion to get inside her box, pouting as she did not want to stop playing with Rudra yet.

Now that the mission was completed and the report received by Lord Hades, it was time to rest at a village before making the journey back to the headquarters. Rudra immediately offered to escort the two of you to the nearest one; he knew this mountain range like the back of his hands, so it would be much faster to find shelter before it grew dark. You beamed at him, profusely thanking him as you adjusted the box’s straps on your shoulders.

The three of you walked through the rocky, uneven terrain, carefully steadying your feet and minding your balance when it got too steep. Rudra helped you along the way, his hands gentle on your exhausted body as the adrenaline finished pumping through your blood after the fight. The three of you eventually took shelter in a cave. You insisted that the two of you switch shifts in case an animal or another demon came by. This way you could keep patching up his wounds with the herbs you brought with you, at Shinobu’s insistence. Rudra tried to resist, saying as a god he’ll heal by dawn, but you had yet to see a deity recover from a demon’s attack.

For tonight, at least let you take care of him. That was when Rudra gave in but you did not know why his face was slightly red. It didn’t feel hot in the cave at all. You shrugged it off and changed the bandages, pressing the herbs into the mouth of the wound before settling in a corner of the cave with Nezuko’s box by your side. Rudra offered to take the first watch. You gladly complied with his insistence to sleep first.

Thankfully, not a single creature came to the cave even between the four hour shifts between you and Rudra. By dawn, you roasted some wild berries and fish that Rudra found, and resumed the journey. Five days later, just when the sun had gone down, you had reached the foot of the mountain where the village was located. Hopefully, there would be a gate that you could pass through instead of taking an airship.

The supreme gods were the only ones allowed to pass through the fractured Bifrost gate while the other pantheon deities would use the normal gates that can teleport them wherever they needed to go. Mortal souls, however, had to use mechanical airships.

Demon Slayers were allowed to pass through the gates that the other gods used with an authorized Wisteria Pass. The Hashira and their successors would use the Iridescent Pass when traveling between Valhalla and Helheim to patrol the Bifrost. In your case, however, you were given a temporary Butterfly Pass since you were an ‘unofficial’ member of the organization. You’d get the Wisteria Pass once you proved to Lord Hades that Nezuko would never harm a human.

Mechanical airships wouldn’t have bothered you so much if it weren’t for the steep price or how the scent of the smoke and oily gears made you nauseous. It was better to take your chances with the Butterfly Pass and travel on foot.

You were a bit sad to part ways with Rudra, as he had been nothing but kind to you and Nezuko. He had healed properly as he said he would, so he wouldn’t run into any more trouble with demons any time soon. But your work is finished here. Time to go somewhere new.

You bowed to the god, and Nezuko gave him a big hug before rushing towards the gate. He smiled, waving good-bye and watching as the two of you disappeared behind the gate in a swirl of blue light.

What you didn’t realize is that Rudra felt the same. He didn’t want you to leave as he wanted to get to know you a bit more, though he understood that everything you were doing was for Nezuko. You wanted your little sister to become human again, and if working for the Demon Slayer Corps could provide any information on a cure, you’d take it in a heartbeat. Shaking his head, Rudra departed the village. Since he was in the area, might as well visit Shiva. It had been a while since the two of them had talked.

But that bastard was laughing his ass off by the time he finished his story about what happened in the mountains. Rudra frowned, crossing his arms as he sat across from his old friend. “Really?”

“Uh, yeah! Not only were ya saved by a mortal woman workin’ under Hades from some demons, ya even got a little crush on her? C’mon, it’s almost cute!” Shiva exclaimed, leaning back against his large pillow. His wives, all three of them, giggled in agreement with knowing eyes as they sat around the god of creation and destruction.

“And you’re not even bothered by the fact these flowers that can increase a demon’s strength is growing here -“

“Rudra, if it were really a problem as ya make it out to be, I would have handled it a while ago with or without Hades’ consent.” Shiva interrupted. “ ‘Sides, you and your Demon Slayer know where they are, right? That organization will do its job. All I can do is watch, then I’ll intervene if things get too dicey or Hades doesn’t do his job.”

…Dammit, Shiva got him there. Shaking his head, Rudra chatted with everyone for a little longer before he turned in for the night. Shiva insisted since he’d been long overdue for a visit that included alcohol and a good brawl with the other gods.

The more things changed, the more things stayed the same. By morning, the tempest god was wandering again yet his thoughts kept straying to the image of a swordswoman and her little sister, vanquishing demons and saving lives wherever they went.

For their sake, he hoped that Nezuko would become a human again.

Several months later, Rudra was traveling through the jurisdiction under Indra’s protection when he stepped into a derelict village. Wooden buildings possessed large, gaping holes in them or laid on the ground, their foundations utterly destroyed. Men, women, and children wept over small stone mounds as others were scurrying out of the village with their belongings strapped to their backs. He was shocked. He’s known some belligerent deities in the Svarga, but none were stupid enough to launch an attack like this ever since Shiva ascended as pantheon leader!

Who was responsible? What happened here?

In between helping the grateful villagers with moving some of the larger structures and cheering up the children, he asked around. All he got was the same story:

“Believe me, if Lord Indra were here, none of this would have happened. But because he had been in a battle recently, he is still recovering at the temple. It had been like any other evening, quiet and uneventful when an old man with a large lump on top of his head came here, seeking to know the location of a ‘blue spider lily’. He was crying…and shaking too, as if he didn’t even want to be here!” A woman snapped, her blue orbs narrowed and face bright red with tear streaks. “We said we didn’t know anything about it, and then all of a sudden his body morphed…no, he split up his body into four, five individuals! Each of them were powerful, sadistic, and showed no mercy when we told him the truth about that flower!”

“Yeah, he couldn’t have been a god, and not a mortal like us!” The little boy by her side exclaimed, clutching a wooden toy sword in his hand. “But when the winged one with yellow eyes tried to use another attack from his mouth, he got kicked by a girl with a muzzle in her mouth! She was super strong, and my age too! There were two others with her, pretty ladies! One with dark red hair, and the other had braids, her hair was pink and green. Pink and green!” He emphasized. “Oh, and a rude guy too!”

Rudra’s eyes instantly widened. He knew exactly who the mother and son were talking about, and his heart began to pound against his rib cage. “What happened to them?”

Another older woman spoke up, her gaze low and gravelly voice wavering. “The young lass with dark red hair and the boy did their best to protect us, trying to evacuate us before things got worse. They fought against those monsters, all of them…yet even though they defeated them…they did not leave the battle unscathed. The lass and the little girl were taken by the young maiden with green and pink hair and the boy to a place called the Butterfly Mansion. Last I heard, their condition was not good.”

Rudra thanked them profusely for the information and took off, promising to inform the other gods what happened and to send help as soon as possible.

Shiva was understandably furious about the whole situation, and yes, he had been made aware of it before Rudra stepped foot in the Little Palace. He’d already spoken to Lord Hades of the Greek Pantheon; suppliers, builders, and the Demon Slayer’s kakushi were en route to provide relief and support to the village.

He was going to tease the shit out of Rudra when his friend asked him about the Butterfly Mansion but wisely kept his mouth shut under Paravati’s infamous, withering ‘look’. The one that clearly says don’t even think about being snarky with him, this is not the time nor the place. So being the good husband and friend that he is, Shiva complied and told Rudra everything he needed to know.

Durga might the feisty one, but Paravati was not one to piss off if he wanted to get laid tonight.

As per the namesake, the Butterfly Mansion was a modest Japanese estate affiliated with the Demon Slayer Corps as a recovery base for the soldiers. Its master, Lady Kocho, was both a beautiful and intimidating human woman even in Rudra’s perspective.

Dark purple hair pulled back and held together with a butterfly-shaped barrette, a butterfly-winged haori draped over the standard Demon Slayer uniform. She smiled politely, welcoming him to the estate as they walked down the hallway to the medical wing. If it weren’t for her eyes being closed or her back facing him, the deity was pretty sure that his hostess would rather throw him out than allow any guests to visit critically injured patients.

But Lord Ubuyashiki, whom Rudra presumed is Lady Kocho’s superior, granted him permission so long as he did not bother the child.

Nezuko was the one who greeted him first as soon as Lady Kocho slid the door open, leaping into his arms with a big smile. Rudra was quick to catch the little one, his lower arms gently holding her while his upper left hand patted the top of her head. Nezuko seemed all right…but what about [First Name]?

Rudra felt someone staring at him, and saw that it was Lady Kocho. She seemed…very surprised that Nezuko greeted him so warmly, before her smile softened.

“You may stay here until as long as you like, but please do not touch [First Name]. I don’t want any of her wounds opening up again.” The threat in her voice was subtle, and Rudra understood very clearly what would happen if he didn’t obey her. He thanked her again, stepping inside the medical wing with Nezuko. Lady Kocho closed the door behind them with a soft ‘chink’.

The tattooed deity froze upon seeing you tucked under the sheets of the third cot on the right side, fast sleep. Your long dark red hair was splayed out against the pillow, your right leg in a cast and your right arm was hooked up to an IV. Bandages covered your jaw, left hand, and forehead.

You looked like shit, but you were alive.

His heart like it had shattered into tiny fragments and reassembled all at once, stomach doing acrobats and his hands trembling even as Nezuko led him to one side of the bed. She then climbed into his lap, being careful not to jostle the mattress too much.

Seeing you in a fragile state cruelly reminded Rudra that you were not invincible, despite the power you possessed. You were a mortal, and he was a god. Injuries that would take a mere week to heal was a three to five month period for you. How could he have been so foolish to think otherwise? He should’ve been here, protecting you and Nezuko.

But that was then…this is now. There is nothing he could do except make sure Nezuko did not get into too much mischief and no one disturbed your rest. He had been planning on leaving again once he was sure you were all right…but it wouldn’t be so bad to stay here until you woke up, would it?

He had something he wanted to ask you. Something very important. But he was a patient man; if he could put up with Shiva’s chaotic antics for thousands of years, he could wait until his precious Demon Slayer was conscious again.

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#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv x reader #ror rudra #snv rudra #rudra x reader #an idyllic novelist #ror x reader #ror headcanons #snv headcanons #tanjiro!reader

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librarisxng · 2 months ago

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ATEEZ SMALL PERFUME REVIEW: DIPTYQUE — ORPHÉON

disclaimer: this is not meant to be a serious perfume review, this is something fun for me to do as I love perfume. each and every one of us have different tastes and preferences when it comes to fragrances. what works for me might not work for you, vice versa. I’ll try my best to describe the scents but I will always suggest for you to go and smell them yourself before purchase. if you want to try these perfumes, please test or get a sample before committing to the bottle. picture credits to all owners.

ateez member: yunho

fragrance family: woody chypre

notes:

top — juniper berries

heart — jasmine

base — cedar, tonka bean

my scent experience:

the fragrance opens very fresh, slightly spicy and it kind of smells like pine cleaning solution. I’m going to assume it’s from the juniper berries as it was described as spicy, woody and piney, which matches the kind of scent I was smelling at first. as it settles, it becomes powdery, almost smelling like soap but it’s not too sharp that it didn’t give me a headache. the dry down was woody from the cedarwood but surprisingly it was still light and delicate which is nice to experience. I can see how some people think this smells like fancy hotel soap, but this smells like a winter morning to me. smelling this makes me want to wrap myself in blankets and sip on warm tea. head empty, just winter vibes.

the projection is on the softer side and it’s more of a skin scent on me and for this kind of fragrance, it just makes sense. sometimes you just want a skin scent, and you don’t always need a perfume that has crazy projection. the longevity is quite average, lasting around 6 hours on me which I’m not mad about but if you want something that lasts longer, this isn’t for you. a lot of people say this fragrance is an elevated version of Glossier’s You and I’m not the biggest fan of that perfume so I’m down to try alternatives and this one is a good one.

additional notes from me:

finally, now! it’s his time! I’m sorry I thought it would be funny to use that. all jokes aside, it’s about time Yunho made an appearance in my perfume reviews. I’m aware he’s not really into fragrances so when I saw that he uses a perfume I could get my hands on, I went to test it out. I want to say a huge thank you to whoever gifted that fragrance to him because this makes sense for Yunho. like if I were to hug Yunho, this is what I would imagine him smelling like — clean, warm, and cozy. skin scents are great for people who don’t really care too much about fragrances but want to spray something on before leaving the house. and while I’m not the type to wear skin scents, I actually like this one and I’m thinking about purchasing the bottle.

who would I recommend this to?

anyone who likes the feeling of being cozy.

those who like powdery and woody scents.

anyone who wants to try Diptyque fragrances.

if you’ve made it to the end, thank you for reading this review! Yunho finally made an appearance after 25 reviews, but you know what they say, better late than never. since he hardly wears fragrances, this might be his only appearance but who knows? he might surprise us with a few more. I hope you enjoyed reading this and let me know what fragrances you’re excited to try this year!

review written by librarisxng 2025

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blueorchid-95 · 8 months ago

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something random I was thinking about but. There are Lore Implications in the Reginald Mimic Mask

In Operation Stage Fright, the handler distantly recognizes the Fabricator’s voice after she gives her first instructions to you. Once you get to the combat bit, Reginald fully recognizes her and identifies her order to kill you as “not an idle threat”, meaning he’s likely had experience with her while he was a field agent—and considering his concern, it wasn’t a good one. It’s also worth noting that she’s the only one of Zor’s henchmen that he’s genuinely afraid of in the main games—he doesn’t react to Hivemind or Caliente, and most other Zoraxis employees don’t get much of a reaction from him, like the Zoraxis defector during the train operation. (Note: these examples are all from the first I Expect You To Die game, where he is actively keeping himself emotionally distant from the agent.)

Later, during Operation Jet Set, Juniper claims that the plan has been “years in the making”, which tells us he’s been working with Zoraxis for quite a while. The plan he’s referring to seems to be the airplane traps, but that seems too small-scale to be worth so much credit, especially with the nuclear codes plan going on behind the scenes. It’s worth noting that this plan would also probably never work again: the agent’s death/disappearance would warn the Agency of Juniper’s alliance and they would take extra care when arranging transportation for the remaining agents to avoid a repeat incident.

This brings up a new question: What plan was Juniper referring to? What necessitated our death on that plane?

The nuclear codes, of course. The Fabricator can’t make a mask of such intricacy in such a short time, after all. Nobody could. I’ll admit that the world of I Expect You To Die is a little less than realistic (looks over shoulder at Agent Phoenix standing directly above boiling lava in Operation KBOOM) but between the sheer amount of masks and other relevant tech she’s made for the operation (the Citizen’s Arrest device, the snack cart on the airplane), there’s no way this would have been a fast-moving op.

So, with this in mind, it’s easy to assume this plan was in its preparation phase for many years until the week Agent Phoenix sends it all down the drain. Since it was so slow-moving, I can imagine Dr. Zor trying other things in the interim to keep the Agency from finding out too much—the Death Engine, for example. Something like that could also be used to support their regime once the long plan is through, and likely took just as long to make because it is another incredibly intricate project.

But I’m getting off track. Even with all of these important plans and many, MANY pieces of technology to create, the Fabricator still has a mask styled after the Handler, seemingly made only to fool an agent that nobody in Zoraxis thought they’d have to deal with again. Considering the time span of The Spy And The Liar against the sheer amount of projects she was handling, it is physically impossible for her to have made the Handler’s Mimic Mask. She can’t have just programmed it in to the original mask, because the game implies that there’s a separate mask for each world leader. After all, the Fabricator still has a mask stored in her desk despite sending one to Juniper already, and it wouldn’t make sense to keep passing the mask back and forth between imitations—plus, if Juniper has to have the Fabricator alter the mask every time he acts as a world leader (the only reason I could identify as to why he’d give it back to her after getting it) the plot would take much longer than it actually does because of the finicky technology that would need to be reworked each time. Plus, why the heck would Juniper give a functioning mask with all four relevant leaders back to the Fabricator? There’s nothing to be improved there, and even if she wanted to there’s no possible way she could add the Handler’s face and voice so perfectly in under four days, regardless of whether or not she already knew him. Not to mention that she seems to be a bit of a perfectionist, focusing on making the entire mask as perfect as she can—down to the smallest wrinkle. Therefore, I believe that all four world leader masks and the Handler mask are separate pieces.

So now we’re hit with the big questions: What, exactly, does the Handler have to do with any of this? Why did the Fabricator make a mask of him?

I believe that the two of them crossed paths when Reginald was an active field agent. There’s no way to know what happened between them, but whatever occurred prevented either of them from forgetting the other.

Perhaps, the Reginald Mimic Mask was made as a failsafe. In case the Agency managed to get ahold of the nuclear briefcase, Juniper could don the mask and infiltrate agency headquarters to retrieve it with very little question. But then Reginald became a handler, and the mask became essentially useless—if Reginald wasn’t out on the field, it would be near impossible to mimic him and get away with it. So, the mask sits in the Fabricator’s desk, forgotten and pointless—but then Agent Phoenix comes back from the dead.

How would the Fabricator have known Reginald was involved? Easy. The Masque of the Red Death. He explicitly tells us that he managed to “snag a ticket to the show”, so he’s sitting in the audience. Considering that the Fabricator is likely acting as the technical director or a similar backstage role, it’s not impossible to believe she could have seen him. However, her lack of reaction implies she doesn’t see him as a threat, so she fails to take action concerning him and his agent until she’s discovered that the agent is responsible for the destruction of the Death Engine.

If we subscribe to the theory that there’s five Mimic Masks instead of just the one, then the mask we encounter in Operation Eaves Drop is one that’s been sitting in storage, unused, in years. The Fabricator likely gave it to Juniper during Operation Party Crasher, and he retreated to his office to practice the new role after spending time with the guests. The mask we send up to him is likely the new world leader mask mentioned in Operation Jet Set.

This accounts for several factors. Juniper’s had years to practice and prepare to act as all of the world leaders, but he’s had hours at most to prepare for his role as the agent’s Handler. Therefore, when he needs to deceive the agent, his acting isn’t on point. He’s got all of the world leaders down, but he’s never even heard Reginald speak (unless you count the phone call that starts off the Operation Jet Set song on the soundtrack, and even then that isn’t much). He knows nothing but what the Fabricator tells him, and all of that information is from when the Handler was a field agent, since that’s the last time she had contact with him.

In contrast, though, I think the Agency set was built around the time Reginald was a field agent. Why? Simple: it was built for our handler, not us. If Juniper was going to retrieve the briefcase by imitating a certain agent, he’d need that specific agent to be out of the way first, stored away for an indefinite amount of time. So, build a small set to make him think he’s still at the Agency, and keep him there. If he discovers the illusion, use the citizen’s arrest device to keep him nice and imprisoned. That explains why there’s Zoraxis equipment in the locked drawer—Juniper forgot he left it there after so many years, likely only remembering when Agent Phoenix reached for the drawer. While the rest of Juniper’s set saw use as he practiced his roles (which incidentally also accounts for why the Zoraxis emblem is still polished if the set is years old—he’d need to clean it any time he wished to rehearse with it, which would probably be often during The Spy and the Liar considering how the plan is coming into play), he would have very little reason to maintain the Agency set—which explains why it’s so poorly designed. I mean, the logo falls off the wall with incredible ease, and we’re being given an agency meal in the medical wing, of all places. Juniper didn’t anticipate having to use it in the long run, since that set wasn’t designed for us.

Summarized, here’s our main takeaways from this:

Reginald must have been one hell of a field agent, since the Fabricator saw fit to make a Mimic Mask of him.

Whatever encounter Reginald had with the Fabricator likely proved decently traumatic for him. She seems unbothered by it.

The Handler Mimic Mask likely doesn’t look exactly like Reginald, because of the time difference. The Fabricator may have estimated how the Handler would look when he’s older to fit with the timetable, but human biology doesn’t always work how we want it to.

Overall, the fact that the Fabricator had a mask of Reginald’s face ready has allowed us to set several basic events on a timeline that makes relative sense.

I apologize for the wall of text. Thank you for reading though ^v^

#i expect you to die #ieytd #ieytd2 #ieytd 3 #ieytd fandom #agent phoenix #john juniper #the handler #the fabricator #hope you enjoyed my lore ideas #:)

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the-french-belphegor · 6 months ago

Text

Every room in Scanlan’s mansion existed for a reason, as a conscious choice. He often changed the setup, and sometimes forgot to make a room, but a random chamber just popping up into existence for no reason was unheard of. (A few decades after Vecna, Kaylie comes across a room that doesn’t make sense in her father’s magical mansion.)

(Shout-out to @mythtaker, whose post last March about Scanlan probably keeping Vax's room in his Magnificent Mansion nudged my brain until I could finally do something with it 💜)

Still Life

Scanlan had changed addresses again since last time.

Kaylie let herself into the house after disarming the few traps he had told her about in his last letter. Just like he’d said, they were nothing fancy: just small precautions to avoid disgruntled former customers (or worse, the local competition) barging in unannounced.

The new house was small, but looked cosy, with high windows and whitewashed walls painted a light blue. The Marquesian sun flooded the coloured cement tiles of the study with a golden late afternoon sunlight. Her father, sitting with his feet on his desk and browsing through papers, didn’t appear to notice either the beautiful light or his unexpected visitor.

Kaylie shrugged off her backpack and let it drop to the floor. The thump made Scanlan look up; the next second, he hopped down from his chair and ran to her, smiling from ear to ear.

“Kaylie Shorthalt, apple of my eye, light of my days, vegan cream in my coffee –”

“Hey, Dad.” Tiredness kept Kaylie’s voice somewhat short, but the first thing she did after carefully putting down her violin case was give him a hug he happily returned. It had been a while since they’d seen each other. “How’s tricks?”

Even after all those years, the nugget of warmth curling in her chest when she met her father’s grin still caught her off-guard. She’d missed him, she could acknowledge that at least, but just how much she had still surprised her every time it hit her.

“Tricks are going swimmingly, thank you for asking. Did you get Juni’s letter?”

“I did, yeah, just before I left.”

“Oh, good. Well, it means Wax lost the bet, but she was worried.”

“Wait,” Kaylie asked with the start of a grin she couldn’t quite hold back, “which bet?”

Juniper and Wilhand’ildan Shorthalt, even after leaving home for places of higher learning, still made a point of staying in almost constant contact with each other, their big sister, their Grog, and their parents, by means of letters, second-hand messages, or Sending Stones. Their correspondence included a lot of teasing, bets, and dares, some of which bafflingly silly sometimes. It had dumbfounded both Kaylie and Scanlan somewhat until Pike and Grog had assured them that it wasn’t that unusual between siblings.

Scanlan waved a hand, drawing the suspense, of course.

“You know the kids. I think this time a… goat was involved? I’ll tell you all about it at dinner. In the meantime, shall I fire up the mansion? For old time’s sake?”

“‘Old times’, yeah. Sure.” Kaylie rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed. It had barely been six months since the last time they’d treated themselves to a nice stay in the Magnificent Mansion. Okay, it felt longer, but still. “I could do with a day at the spa anyway after all this heat.”

“Then it’s settled. Give me a minute.”

Scanlan rummaged in his pocket for the components, closed his eyes, and started to hum a tune Kaylie recognised as one she’d been working on the last time they’d seen each other. As always, the air around him went shimmery and warm, citrus and coriander with a dash of purple, and the door winked into existence.

Gnome-sized, of course. And flamboyant and magnificent and ridiculous in an endearing way, just like him.

He opened it for her with a bow and a flourish.

“Ladies first.”

“Show-off,” snorted Kaylie, and walked in with her violin case, trusting Scanlan to bring her bag inside. Which he did, after a double take.

It was always easy to tell, from the look of the mansion, if Scanlan had spent time in Tal’Dorei recently. The layout was different, the ceiling a little lower, the hues a little softer. Some of Wax’s drawings he’d made while inside the mansion hung on the walls in frames; there were touches here and there in the decorations of Pike’s blues and Juni’s golds amongst the pinks and purples. In the foyer, a sheet of paper covered in awkward letters bigger than Kaylie’s whole hand held pride of place on a sideboard along with a plate of cookies. She immediately pilfered a couple on her way inside.

“Where’d you put my room this time?” she asked, rolling her head on her neck. Gods, it had been a long day. Make that a long week. Or a long fucking month, to be honest.

“Ground floor, west wing, couple of doors to the hot springs. I’ll make the servants get started on dinner. Give me a yell if you need anything?”

“Sure thing, thanks.”

Kaylie recognised her bedroom immediately: the door was open, welcoming her in. Scanlan had styled it the way she liked, cool and cosy but not stifling, light on the frills, with plenty of space to put her things away and all the tools she needed to take care of her violin.

The bed looked way too comfy. It was tempting to just faceplant in it and crash. But then, she reasoned, it would still be there after a long soak and a nice dinner.

She threw her bag over her shoulder, padded barefoot out of her room, and opened the second door to the left.

And paused, puzzled.

That… wasn’t the hot springs. It was a bedroom, by the look of it, but a bedroom that didn’t make sense.

“Hey, Scanlan?” Kaylie called out, frowning. “What’s this room for?”

She didn’t wait for an answer and stepped in slowly, taking in the dark furniture, the elegant carpet, the plants in large pots scattered across the room. The circular bed was unmade, like its owner had just stepped out. She ran her palm over the quilt, a light, fuzzy fabric meant to look like it was made from black feathers. Or maybe stylised leaves.

Something tugged at her memory.

“What room, Kay—”

The footsteps behind her came to such an abrupt stop Kaylie thought Scanlan had Dimension Doored away elsewhere. But when she looked over her shoulder, there he was, framed in the doorway like a painting and about as motionless.

He looked nothing less than stricken.

And that… was all the explanation she needed.

After the dust settled, after that last big fight, as she was recuperating in Whitestone in a bed too big for her –

(from her wounds, from dying, from coming back to life in her father’s arms with his tears in her hair and her blood on his chest)

– he had come back, bone-tired and too quiet, the smell of booze on him stronger than some of her best and worst benders, but alive. They had talked a bit about what she wanted to do, now that the world wasn’t ending any more. She had pulled him into a hug, the only way she’d found to say everything she’d wanted to say without having words pulled out of her mouth like teeth.

It was only when she had come back from a much-needed nightly stroll and found him passed out at the foot of his own bed that she had realised he hadn’t said a single word about how the fight had gone down except We won.

What they had lost – who – had come up later.

Kaylie didn’t have many clear memories of Vax’ildan. The other members of Vox Machina she’d mostly learned to know after they disbanded. With the exception of her father – and a memorable conversation with Vex’ahlia, still vivid despite the fog of alcohol (But there’s a chance we can bring him back, if you’re willing to help) – the shape they had in her mind was a product of time in a new world, one that no longer involved escaping from dragons or being kidnapped and brainwashed by an asshole god. Vax would forever belong to that former world. The only remnants she had of him were a vague silhouette in dark clothing, a sharp grin, a surprisingly soft voice.

And the taste of blood in her mouth.

The last and strongest memory Kaylie had of Vax was his scrunched up face, contorted by guilt with tear tracks on his cheeks, open hand thrust forwards as Gilmore whisked her and Cassandra de Rolo away to safety. To this day she still viciously hoped some of that guilt was for her, too.

After all, she was the one he’d killed.

And then he had died (or perhaps before and it just took a while to really take, she had never been clear on the timing), and in the process had somehow gained the power to crack Scanlan’s heart right open.

So maybe Kaylie had ambivalent feelings about the guy.

But she was also very aware that saying fuck ‘im would not help at all in this situation.

“Oh, Dad.” She shook her head, but purposely kept her voice gentle, filing down some of her sharp edges for once. “Still, huh?”

Shock rippled on his face at the sound of her voice. It made him look a little less like someone had just punched him in the stomach.

“…I meant a couple of doors on the right,” he said in a small voice.

He’d sounded worse before – hell, he’d looked worse before, she had once seen his lifeless body laid out on an altar after getting ripped apart by a dragon – but something still tugged at her heart at that.

“Yeah, well. The spa can wait. What’s up with that?” She stepped towards him, telegraphing her movements, like he was a horse who might bolt if spooked. “Why did you make that room? You know that’s… that’s not a good idea, right?”

“I didn’t make it make it,” Scanlan protested with a little more life. “I just… didn’t not make it.”

“Okay, but why now?”

Silence.

Kaylie stared at Scanlan.

“You mean you don’t make it on purpose? It just pops up every time?”

“No! …Yes. Kinda? Look, the mansion’s a complicated spell, okay? It’s not even proper bardic magic in the first place. I’ve been casting it for years and I’m still not a hundred percent sure how it works.”

His eyes stayed mostly on her, but every now and then they strayed to the left, to the coverings, the bed, the plants. However his body still seemed rooted to the spot, and Kaylie was suddenly struck by a flash of insight.

“Dad, did you – have you ever actually stepped foot in there? You know, since he died?”

Scanlan went very still.

(How the hell did he manage to fool anybody, Kaylie wondered as her heart sank in her chest. How good a liar did that make him, really, that she managed to see right through him every time?)

She shook her head again.

“You haven’t, have you. Decades of making this room without even thinking about it and you never… Godsdammit, Dad.”

“I can’t, Kaylie,” he said, barely audible. “It’s not… I wouldn’t…”

Scanlan Shorthalt at a loss for words was a unique phenomenon that could be two things: downright hilarious or powerfully awkward. A very rare third kind of outcome, the instances of which Kaylie could count on the fingers of one hand and a half, was snapping your heart clean in two. And for someone like her, who prided herself on always keeping that soft, vulnerable part of herself safe from all hurt… Well, it sucked. To put it mildly.

Kaylie sighed.

Then she took her father’s hand.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” she said gently, and pulled him into the room.

She didn’t have to tug very hard. Scanlan stumbled after her easily. The next moment he absent-mindedly straightened his vest and looked around at the room as though he was seeing it for the first time.

The room, not the contents. It was obvious, from the way his gaze lingered on this and that, how he snorted at the sight of an armchair pillow embroidered with two tiny figures inside a giant black dragon, or smiled at a painting that depicted a bunch of cows and a giant bird, of all things, that the objects that populated the space were familiar, or at least brought up memories.

Kaylie gave him a moment, then climbed onto the human-sized (or rather half-elf-sized) bed, letting her feet dangle over the edge. The movement must have caught Scanlan’s eye; he turned, and after a while shucked off his shoes and clambered up, too.

The silence between them lasted long enough that Kaylie started to wonder whether she should summon one of the mansion’s creepy ghost servants to get herself a drink. But she had cut down on daytime drinking a lot these past few decades, particularly since Juni’s birth. Putting the kibosh on Scanlan’s meat consumption had been a gag at first – plus chicken for breakfast, lunch, and dinner got old fast – but the excuse of eating healthy to live longer had had some truth behind it. Behind the sarcasm she’d actually wanted her father to stick around, and you kinda had to stay alive for that. It had taken her a few years after that to realise that getting too fucked up too often would make her less inclined to stay alive, too.

Scanlan had stuck by the vegan diet, and Kaylie had cut down her drinking rather dramatically.

But damn if her fingers didn’t still itch for a pint, sometimes.

“So,” she said, if only to hear something. Dammit. She had counted on Scanlan being the first to open his mouth – he usually was. “That’s a nice bedroom. This bed’s comfy.”

“I should hope so,” said Scanlan, his voice almost normal by now. Almost. “Nothing but quality in my Magnificent Mansion.”

“No mirror on the ceiling in this one?”

“Nah, not this time. But I think everybody had one at some point? Gods, it’s been ages. Anyway, I made up for it. Look in the… I think it’s in the bedside table on the left.”

Against her better judgement, Kaylie shuffled to the bedside table. Inside it was a book with a title in Marquesian which in Common translated to The Lotus and the Butterfly.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that the one with—?”

“—with beautiful traditional Marquesian illustrations going back two hundred years from the best artists in Yios, yes.”

“I was gonna say ‘the sex positions guidebook’, but sure, let’s go with that.” She shook her head. “I thought you couldn’t leave anything from the Material Plane in the mansion?”

“You can’t. I had the servants make it special from a copy I picked up once at a casino.”

“The one you got scammed in?” Kaylie asked with a grin, making Scanlan roll his eyes. She leafed through the book idly, gaze quickly flitting over text and pictures, neither really registering. “And you just. Left that in your friend’s bedside table. Like that’s not fucking weird at all.” Her head snapped back up as a thought hit her. “Wait, did you… Did you ever hook up with him, back in the day?”

In the two seconds it took for Scanlan to open his mouth, eyes wide, she decided she didn’t need to know the answer. Those two had been good friends and clearly loved each other a lot; whether sex had been involved or not was irrelevant.

She steered clear of sentiment, though, out of habit.

“Wait, don’t answer that. Sorry. Gross, shut up. Still, what the hell? Was it supposed to be some kind of prank?”

“Well, no, I… Okay, maybe just a little. Once I finally got that he and Keyleth were actually, like, A Thing, I put the book in there whenever I made the mansion. Mostly I figured they might need, uh… not exactly something to help them get it on, but just… ideas, you know? It took them long enough to realise they both wanted to boink, just thought I might aid a little in that department.”

Kaylie stared at her father, not knowing whether she might facepalm or laugh herself sick.

“Seriously.”

“Hey,” Scanlan pointed out, “it was them or Vex and Percy, and once they figured out their own shit they didn’t need any incentive to jump each other’s bones! Man, I’m still surprised they stopped at five kids and didn’t go for the full baker’s dozen.”

Once upon a time, this would’ve been a golden opportunity for her to say something scathing about accidental children. The Kaylie from three decades ago would have verbally eviscerated present-day Kaylie for letting that opportunity pass by. But then again, being her three decades ago had been fucking exhausting. Sure, she sometimes missed the viciousness she had let go of over the years, but she’d also lost some fears and gained a little peace of mind. Overall, not a bad bargain.

She settled for a snort and put the book back in the bedside table. Then she made herself comfortable on the bed, leaning back and kicking her feet a little.

Surprisingly, Scanlan didn’t add anything. He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his arms and gazed vaguely ahead with an odd expression, for him.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hm?”

Godsdammit. Pike would be much better suited for this.

Kaylie resolutely kept her own gaze in front of her and didn’t look at him.

“You do realise it’s… okay if you don’t make this room? Maybe not next time, but like… the time after that. I don’t think he’ll mind, I mean… It’s not… It wouldn’t be betraying him is what I’m sayin’.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him turn his head towards her a little, but he remained uncharacteristically silent and still.

“It’s nice that you kept his stuff. No, I know, it’s not really his stuff, but you know what I mean – it’s, uh… it’s a thoughtful gesture. Wherever he is I’m sure he’d appreciate it. But…”

How did people do this? Say words that weren’t even spells and fixed things somehow? Her music could break and heal alike, but that last part felt closer to tying a tourniquet on a bleeding limb: a tiny thing that might keep you from dying just now, but a far cry from magic that knitted bones back together or breathed life back into corpses. She had sung away the hurt from Juni’s scraped knees or Wax’s scratched elbows a few times when her little siblings were kids. She might as well be trying to do the same now on a decades-old wound that somehow still found a way to bleed every now and then.

“But… But there’s better ways to remember him by. This is like… frozen in time. Like a museum, almost. Somehow I doubt that’s what he was about.”

“It’s not,” Scanlan muttered. Then he cleared his throat and added, without the crack in his voice this time, “I mean, yeah, he was… He was, uh.”

She pretended not to see him wipe his nose on his sleeve.

“He had… a lot going on, once he got into his thing with the Raven Queen. That messed him up for some time. But even with all that, even when he went full emo goth chicken with one foot in the grave talking about death all the frickin’ time, he was… he was alive.”

Pause; a small snort of a laugh. When he spoke again he was smiling, but his voice was less than steady again. “Never seen a dead guy so alive, when I think about it.”

Kaylie waited for him to continue. When it became obvious that nothing more was coming, she bit back a sigh, then shuffled closer.

And closer. Just close enough to lay her head on her father’s shoulder if she slumped a little.

(Ever since she’d first laid eyes on him she’d always been a little taller. That he’d never been there while she was still small enough to hold and carry was one of the things she still was angry at him about occasionally – and angry at herself for it. She was tough and strong and a grown-ass adult, godsdammit, not a bloody child.)

After a while, Scanlan laid his head against hers, giving her time to slip away if she wanted, like he usually did.

“Didn’t you want to go to the spa?” he asked quietly.

Kaylie gave a one-shoulder shrug, careful not to jostle their skulls against each other’s.

“I will. In a while.”

“I included the steam room again.”

“Good. It’s nice. Also pretty.”

“Well, you deserve the best.”

“Damn right I do,” she murmured.

Maybe he wasn’t the best father. But he certainly wasn’t the worst she’d thought he was for the first two thirds of her life. Sure, the space between their souls had its share of broken things, but in time they had built trust, and affection, and unspoken words that warmed rather than hurt.

She shifted, just enough that she could kiss his temple just above his ear – a little smaller than her own, one of the few physical traits he didn’t pass on to her – and give his hand a squeeze for good measure, lightning-quick.

Then she settled against him again before he could say anything.

The room was not haunted. In two dozen hours it would disappear, along with the rest of the house; one day it might cease to exist altogether. And maybe, between the two of them (beating hearts, warm bodies, lungs drawing breaths in tandem with one another), they could lay some old ghosts to rest.

#critical role #vox machina #tlovm spoilers #cr1 spoilers #kaylie shorthalt #scanlan shorthalt #fanfiction

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wooahaes · 1 year ago

Text

on the house

pairing: non-idol!seungmin x gn!reader

genre: fluff.

word count: 0.8k~

warnings: food mentions. reader has a golden retriever. reader and seungmin crushing on each other like idiots btw.

daisy's notes: also hi isa @sseastar thank u for help on this one as well!! <3

Seungmin liked the familiarity of the farmers market. The faces he saw regularly, both in terms of customers and other vendors, and the fact he could always find something interesting when his grandfather gave him a small break to explore. It wasn’t monotonous in the slightest (that’s where the interesting things helped), but… if there was one constant he could count on, it was you.

See, Seungmin barely remembered when you started coming here. All he knew was that you did, because you’d always walk your golden retriever through, and you’d always stop by this stall to see what jams and whatnot his grandfather bought this time. Your pup (Juniper, you once told him, like the berry? You can call her Junie, though) was always so well-behaved, even though she always knew Seungmin was carrying treats in his pockets (mainly for her). He’d chat you up as you looked through the selection, sometimes kneeling down to give Junie her treats and attention. He liked the cute bandanas you had loosely tied around her, just barely hiding her collar, and the way she sat dutifully by your side. You’d always told him that Juniper loved seeing him.

But Seungmin, thankfully, was not an idiot. It was you. You liked seeing him. You had a crush on him. And, no, it did not take someone else pointing it out to him for him to realize.

(He didn’t realize it until his grandfather let it slip that you’d come by twice until he told you Seungmin was too busy with exams to be there. That he would be back on Saturday, though, and sure enough… There you were, casually strolling past.)

For a while, Seungmin had just assumed you really liked jam. Or that you were a fan of fruit, since you sometimes bought some from their stand as well. The jam was the showstopper of it all, though: it was what people always loved the most, and you’d always complimented it when you came by. Yet figuring out that it was him you were coming for made a lot more sense. Sure, he liked the jam, too, but he couldn’t imagine himself stopping by constantly to survey the different kinds. Learning that you were crushing on him made him a little more smug, though: you were cute, and he liked you enough from your talks…

So when you came by later that week, Seungmin had a plan. His grandpa always ended up helping other customers, sending Seungmin over to you to help you make your selection and pay. Conversation always came easy to the two of you: he’d ask you about college, you’d ask him about college, and then you’d start talking about something silly that happened. Sometimes about Felix (he’s just my friend!) or Hyunjin (also just a friend–I’m single, haha) and something that they said…

“You know,” Seungmin was picking up a jar of strawberry jam, carefully wrapping it to keep it secure. “You don’t have to keep buying so much jam. I know you want to see me.”

“What?” Your eyes went wide, and for a moment, Seungmin wondered if he fucked up. Yet he saw the way you averted your gaze, pouting a little as you grew more flustered. Oh. He caught you outright. “Junie wants to see you. Not me.”

He chuckled. “Right… Just Juniper.”

“I’m here for the jam,” you said, still not meeting his gaze. The moment your eyes flickered back to him (just to his hands), you tore them away immediately, too embarrassed to even look at him now. “Nothing else. It’s not like I like you like that—”

Ah. He’d have to never mention that to anyone. Jeongin would tease him and say something about you ‘stealing his line’ since Seungmin… wasn’t always the most up front with his feelings. This time had been different: one of you needed to make a move, and Seungmin didn’t want your wallet to hurt any further than it already did.

“Grandpa said you came by when I was busy with exams,” he said, “and that you suddenly didn’t come back until Saturday since he told you that’s when I’d be back.”

“That means literally nothing. You carry treats for Juniper. Why would I subject her to expecting to see you?” You finally gathered your nerves enough to meet Seungmin’s gaze for a minute. “Maybe if your grandparents didn’t make good jam—”

He chuckled, picking up one of the mini jars while his grandfather wasn’t looking. He jotted down his number on a sticky note, placing it into the bag.

“Wait, I didn’t—”

“It’s on the house,” he said. “Just call me later. I’ll be mad if you don’t.”

You snatched the sticky note off the top of it, shoving it into your pocket for safekeeping. “Then pick up when I do… or I’ll be mad if you don’t.”

He’d make sure to answer on the first ring if it meant seeing your flustered face again soon… outside of the farmers market.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm

#wooahaes.fall23 #wooahaes.fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz x you #stray kids imagine #skz fics #stray kids fics #stray kids fluff #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin fluf #kim seungmin x you #seungmin fluff

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yeehawbvby · 5 months ago

Text

When the Moon Fell in Love With the Sun | Ch. 6

March x F!Farmer

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventual smut)

Chapter Summary: Olric and the farmer hang out!

Author’s Note: Sorry in advance to Olric enjoyers but god damn, the idea of Lady Who Works With Heavy Things x Himbo Who Likes Lifting Heavy Things is GOLDEN to me.

Also! Now that the game's first major update has been announced (!!!!!!), I wanna make it known for readers of the future that the entirety of this fic was written during the earlier months of the game's early access release!! The max number of hearts you can reach with anyone is 4 at the moment :3

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

After Elsie caught December and March canoodling in the bath house, word of their closeness spread like wildfire. They hadn’t “officially” begun a relationship yet, but nobody would believe their denial, so they’d stopped bothering to correct it.

It wasn’t like it was a bad thing. It was just tedious. They wanted to move at their own pace — both of them feeling nervous, on top of being out of practice — but they suddenly felt the pressure of everyone in Mistria doing their best to speed things up. As much as they both adored their small town, they were less than enthused to be the center of its gossip.

Luckily, the hype died down and they stopped having to avoid being seen too close to each other in public after only about two weeks, Juniper and Valen once again taking precedence. Nobody knew what they had going on, but nobody could deny that there was something there, and it was fascinating enough to make its way into the town’s entertainment rotation on a regular basis.

Elsie adored a good rivals to lovers arc, so on more than one occasion she’d watch from across the bar or upon the inn’s balcony as the two bickered over wine just centimeters from each other’s faces.

“Do you think they’ll kiss this time?” Reina, who was taking a break from the kitchen, asked one day from the second floor.

“I can only dream of it,” Elsie sighed on her left.

December nodded her agreement to Reina’s right, took a sip of her own wine, and pursed her lips for a moment. “I just know they wanna make out sloppy style.“

“Ha! Ew!” the chef reacted in tandem with December’s goofy, tipsy smile. Elsie nodded in concurrence with the farmer.

Olric had made his way into the watch party that night, and poked fun at December with a (surprisingly) light nudge to her shoulder, “That’s basically what you and March looked like for the longest time!”

She groaned while he and the ladies giggled, and as if he had a sixth sense for this, March magically appeared to whisk her away and save her from their prying eyes.

The duo still lightheartedly argued plenty, and they still shot the shit daily. December was a pro at that, after all, utilizing her goofiness to diffuse just about any situation she found herself in. But they settled into a habit of merely holding hands and linking arms in public while kissing, hugging and cuddling in private. It was lovely.

Another week passed, and March and December were perusing the market hand in hand, a hot chocolate and an iced coffee in their respective opposing grasps.

March noted as they neared Vera’s booth a second time, “My roots are growing in… I should probably go see her.”

December gave his hand one last squeeze and saluted him, encouraging him to go for it (and earning a flick to the forehead for being a dork) before heading off to browse more of the market on her own.

“December!”

She halted in place, looking around for the source of her name until she landed on Olric waving her over from the furniture stall. As she made her way towards him, he said bye to Merri, gave her a sweet peck, and jogged to meet December halfway. Before turning to walk with him, she and the merchant shared a quick wave.

December liked Merri. She was friendly, witty, and she was always more than willing to share tips with her when it came to decorating or building her own pieces. Ryis did the same plenty, but he was much less focused on aesthetics, making Merri’s advice one of a kind. It was a shame the saleswoman could only come to town every so often — especially considering how smitten Olric was, December thought.

“You two are adorable, you know.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. His grin was wide and proud, his cheeks dusted with pink while he responded, “Aw, thanks!” December finished her coffee and tossed its empty vessel into the bin near Darcy’s set-up. “Any good finds?” Olric asked, noticing and nodding to the paper shopping bag in her hand.

December shrugged, “Louis finagled me into buying a dress I’ll probably never wear.”

“I can’t imagine you in a dress.”

“Neither can I!”

“He’s dangerous.”

“I can’t even call him a fraud to cope,” she lamented. She knew he was amazing at his job. “What about you?”

“Nah, I’ve just been hanging out with Merri all morning.”

“Did you lug any furniture for her?”

“Of course! I am a gentleman, thank you,” Olric bowed slightly, putting a hand on his heart as if to prove the point. December laughed at the gesture. “Oh, so you might like this: I was talking to Errol this morning, and he was describing, like, the sickest rock ever.”

Nodding along, December proceeded to listen as Olric gushed about said rock. While this went on, they stopped by the farm so she could drop off her shopping bag at home before wandering around town.

This rock Olric was talking about was round. Really round, in fact. He fawned over it even more when she told him that she was the one who donated it to the museum. She promised to save one for him if she found any more, and they made plans for him to actually come mining with her one of these days before they wrapped back around to the market square.

They noticed near the fountain that the Dragonguard — as well as Reina and Celine, who were supervising their shenanigans — had matching streaks in their hair: a single sliver of purple on the right side. Since Luc’s hair was so short, he received a small butterfly-shaped plot of dye instead.

“They’re so cute, bro.” Olric then wondered, “I wonder if March would ever go purple.”

December snorted at the thought. “Have you ever thought of trying to match with him?”

“Ha! I’ve thought about it, yeah. I don’t think he would like that very much though.” Then, inspecting the top of December’s head, he asked, “Has your hair always been white?”

”Mhm,” she nodded, “It’s genetic.”

“Maybe you should change it up!” Olric beamed. “It’s not like it’s permanent.”

“I don’t even know what I’d do with it.”

She tried to think: The last time she dyed it was for a fundraising event with her old sponsor, and before that…

She reminisced about her younger self leaning over the bathroom sink, the potent and chemically stench of box-dye filling the room while its color stained the porcelain below her. On more than one occasion, she found herself doing her best to put some messy streaks of various colors into her hair before coating what little remained of her white tresses in black. It was a disaster, but it was fitting for a little punk who wanted to defy authority.

So, she concluded to herself, it had to be back when she was a teenager.

“Why not let Vera choose the color?” December’s eyes widened as she shot her friend a look. He laughed before reassuring her, “You can trust her! She dyes everyone’s hair around here.”

”Well, yeah, but—“ She stopped mid-sentence, changing her mind. Maybe she needed some extra spice in her life. “Hm.” She sighed. “I’ll think about it.“

“There ya go!” Olric patted December on the shoulder — accidentally moving her, as usual.

___

Just a few days later, December and Olric acted on those plans to go mining together. March was less than enthused to stay back and man the shop, but knew he needed to without Olric around. He’d be damned if he ever closed it down for a day.

December loved adrenaline. Going mining was a perfect way to fulfill her yearn for it in the otherwise relatively calm life she’d now cultivated for herself. It was one of her favorite pastimes in Mistria, maybe aside from just hanging out with all the cute animals on her farm, Goose included, of course; and while she enjoyed just throwing on some music, wrecking shit, and kicking little gooey monsters underground for a few hours, it was exciting to have a companion for a change.

“I haven’t been down there in ages,” Olric mentioned as they entered the mines, gesturing towards the shaft. “I never thought I’d need a sword for it.”

“You’d be surprised,” December mumbled. As they approached the makeshift elevator, she took his weapon from its sheath, inspecting it. While it was only iron, it was — unsurprisingly, given his family’s long bloodline of smiths — extremely well-made. “This should be fine.”

“Well, yeah. How bad can those guys be?”

She answered nonchalantly, handing his sword back and lowering them down, “Some of them will projectile vomit rocks at you.”

Olric was horrified.

December figured the deep earth would be a good section to focus on. It shouldn’t have been too hard to manage, given the farmer’s experience in the area, combined with Olric’s mining prowess and almost absurd musculature.

Plus, it was pretty.

Being agile from her snowboarding days, the farmer had no trouble dodging attacks from monsters and was light enough on her feet to fight right back at a moment’s notice. She had to handle it that way. Sure, she adorned a protective vest and padded leggings beneath her clothes, but she was still fragile after all.

Olric was in awe. He knew he shouldn’t be, given December’s past as an athlete and adventurer, but it was still a sight to behold. He struggled keeping up — plus, taking a few hits from the aforementioned rock creatures and stepping on what he aptly named A Spiky Dude deterred him from combat — so they decided to split up the work. December focused purely on fighting while Olric gathered stone, ore, and whatever other materials he stumbled upon within her protection.

To his absolute delight, he found his very own, very round, perfect little rock. It was at that moment that they decided to call it a day.

After stopping at the museum to drop off a few donations, Olric offered December a seat at the dinner table. He and March made it a point to have at least a few home cooked meals together per week outside of going to the inn or getting takeout.

Olric liked to do it for the sake of brotherly bonding. March did it to ensure Olric would eat his fucking vegetables.

December took up the offer, and the next thing she knew, she was pestering March while Olric made them all some curry to share.

The farmer sat on the desk in the smithy while March sketched beside her.

“If you could be any forgeable item, what would you be?” she asked.

“What kind of question is that?”

“The fun kind.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Alright, have fun being a nail, then.”

March scowled at her. “Why a nail?”

He fell right into the trap! “So you can screw yourself.” Holt would have been so proud of her for that one. She just knew it. “And also ’cause you’re boring,” she rapidly tacked onto the end.

While December flashed him a shit-eating grin and mentally patted herself on the back, March contemplated why he fell for her of all people.

“I hate you…”

“Sure you do.”

The queen of dad jokes began skimming through some of the most stunning blueprints for weapons and armor she’d ever seen, all of which March hadn’t had a chance to craft yet.

“Speaking of, you ever think about making something cooler than nails?” she teased. The comment earned her a firm elbow to her hip. “Ow,” she laughed under her breath.

“You ever think about leaving me the hell alone?”

“You see, that doesn’t work anymore. You like being around me.”

“Is it too late to take that back?” he grumped.

”Depends,” December shrugged, answering with her own question, “How badly do you wanna kiss me right now?”

March looked up from his work to chance a glimpse at her mischievously curved lips, and her focused, sparkly gaze on his drawings in her lap.

Truthfully, he wanted to so incredibly badly. Instead, he responded with a silent glare that she could only see in her peripherals.

“Alright, it’s ready!” Olric called from the kitchen.

March stood, offering a hand to December as she hopped down from her perch. He felt a sudden impulse to be cute and acted on it before he could even think, giving her a quick twirl while their fingers were still clasped together.

He was almost annoyed with himself. Her laughter paired with the way she beamed a smile up at him like he was the most precious thing in the world to her made it worthwhile.

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starstwinkleplanetsshine · 7 months ago

Text

Daughter of the Sea

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Hold Fast (Read on Ao3 here)

I wandered around for a while, trying to make any sense of the conversation I had just had. But the more I thought about what Hestia had said, the more confused I felt. And the more angry I got. I had spent the last few weeks coming up with every possible way to take Percy’s place, made peace with the fact that dying was worth it if it meant I was saving him. But now I wasn’t sure.

In a way, hearing from Hestia affected me more than hearing from my father would have. I knew Poseidon had been watching over me my whole life, but it was Hestia who was protecting me day in and day out. It was Hestia who took up residence in the fireplace of our home and kept vigilant watch on me. Out of all the gods, she knew me the best. And hearing her say words I knew were true but I didn’t want to hear put me in a sour mood.

I eventually found myself on the archery range. It was empty, which was extremely odd. I had never seen it so quiet—Apollo had a lot of kids, and they were all talented archers. You could always count on someone practicing their gifts while the sun was still shining.

But not today. I guessed that a lot of the campers wanted to go back to their cabins or do something to take their mind off the funeral. I didn’t blame them.

I pulled out the throwing knives I always kept on my belt—four beautiful bronze blades with golden hilts that glinted in the light.

They had shown up on my doorstep last November with my name on the package, and Percy had been extremely jealous. I reminded him that he didn’t use throwing knives, but that didn’t seem to change his mind. The only thing accompanying the gift was a small piece of pristine white paper, no bigger than a business card, with a beautiful, golden and shimmering symbol of the sun on it, almost like the one in Tangled. I looked down the empty hallway, shrugged, and picked up the package. I waited a few days before opening them, just to make sure it wasn't some sort of trap, and found that they were perfectly balanced and fit in my hand exactly. I still hadn’t found out who sent them, but I had an inkling of an idea.

I still wasn’t fantastic at throwing knives—Percy and I were notoriously bad at ranged weapons—but I had gotten a lot better in the last year. I usually hit the target, and one out of every fifty or so times I would hit the bullseye. I considered that an impressive improvement.

Cady had insisted I train in the weapon in case my sword ever got knocked out of my hand, she said a demigod should never be caught defenseless. I didn’t need to worry about losing my weapon anymore, thanks to the gift from my dad, and even without a sword I had learned to wield my abilities enough to always be able to defend myself, but what started practical soon turned comforting. I usually gave up on anything that I wasn’t immediately good at, but I had decided to stick with this one, and it was nice to see my hard work was starting to pay off. It felt good to have something to work at, something I had to struggle in. Something I could see improvement in—it gave me a sense of control over my life. Which, as a demigod, didn’t come often.

I had just loosed my first knife when a rustling in the grass behind me made me whip around.

“Juniper!” I called when I saw the elfish face. “You’re lucky I didn't have that knife in my hand anymore.”

“I know!” she squeaked. “I’m sorry, Angie.” She stood up from where she was crouched in the grass. “I shouldn’t have been sneaking, but I need to talk to you.”

I gave her a curious look. Now that she was closer, I could see her eyes were tinged green—chlorophyll from crying, I told myself.

“Is this about Grover?” I tried to keep my voice gentle, but she let out a small sob at the mention of her boyfriend’s name.

“The naiads told me that you were going through Chiron’s reports this morning and there was a report from a protector in Canada and he mentioned Grover in it.” Her words came rushing out, getting closer to hyperventilating by the second.

No secrets here, I thought. Those naiads are the worst gossips.

“I did see a report, yes. It was talking about how—”

“Can you come with me, Angie?! I can’t be away from my tree for too long.” Even though she asked me a question, she didn’t wait for an answer. She grabbed my wrist and started dragging me towards the woods, and I gave up any hope I had of retrieving the golden knife stuck in the target.

She didn’t stop running until we had come to a small clearing near her tree. I could see Zeus’ Fist standing tall in the middle of it and the sight sent a shiver up my spine. It had been a full year since the Battle, a full year of tension and loss and war. The clearing was a reminder of my first few weeks at camp, and a reminder of how far I had come. But it was also a reminder of my failures.

“Now, what were you going to say about Grover?!” Juniper looked so hopeful, I didn’t know how to break the news to her.

“Well, the letter didn’t exactly say anything about him.”

“What?”

“It was from a protector, Gleeson Hedge, I think, asking for Grover’s help. It was addressed to him. I don’t know why it ended up here.”

“But—” Juniper looked like she was about to cry again when a voice startled both of us.

“Ah ha!” I turned to see an old, fat satyr waddling towards us with surprising speed. He had a smug look on his goatish face. “It is obvious he has run away from his duties, abandoned us all. Trust me, nymph, you are better without that traitor.”

Juniper’s green skin took on a red hue, and I wondered what it would look like for a tree nymph to fly off the handle. I didn’t know Grover well, I had only spent a little time with him last summer, but I knew he was Percy’s best friend. I knew he was brave, and funny, and was there for my brother when no one else was. In short, I knew I wasn’t going to put up with this old goat talking about him like that.

“That’s not true, umm, whoever you are.” I snapped at him.

“Whoever I am?!” He sounded utterly offended. “And just who are you?”

“This is Angie Jackson!” Juniper announced proudly. “Percy’s sister.”

The satyr’s nose crinkled. “Of course I should’ve guessed by her impertinence.”

If I knew what that word meant I was sure I would’ve been offended.

“Nice to meet you…”

“Leneus! Lord of the Wild and Member of the Council of Cloven Elders!”

I only caught about half of what he said.

“Oh, alright. Sounds important.”

He let out an aggrieved huff and stuck his nose in the air. “It is important, thank you—”

His sentence was cut off by a small boy in black jeans and an aviator's jacket appearing out of nowhere. Leneus let out a scream.

“Whoa, am I interrupting?” The pale boy looked more tired than I had ever seen him, and the sight of him made my stomach drop. On one hand I was glad that the conversation with the angry satyr had come to an end, but on the other, I knew what him being here meant. I knew what was about to begin.

“Hey, Nico.”

He gave me a small smile. “Hi, Angie. Nice to see you again. Know where Percy is?”

I had gotten used to that question in the last year. “No, sorry.”

“Will someone explain to me what's going on?” the satyr asked in the most annoying voice possible. Juniper ran and hid behind her tree.

“Sorry, there’s usually no one here.” Nico said in a sheepish voice. “I came to see Percy.”

The satyr let out a huff and rolled his eyes. “I have heard far too much about that upstart today.”

I was about to tell the old goat off when a large hellhound came bounding through the trees and barrelling into the clearing. I reached for my necklace instinctively and was about to pull on it when I saw the glimmering collar around her neck. My hand relaxed as Mrs. O’Leary ran up to Nico and began to lick his face excitedly—which is quite the sight when the dog's tongue is almost as big as the boy. The son of Hades broke into a wide smile, but Leneus and Juniper weren’t as pleased.

I was too busy laughing at the sight to see the boy jogging behind the hellhound, but when Nico perked up and nodded to someone behind me, I spun around. My heart beat a little faster when I saw who it was. He cracked a smile when he saw me, but his expression was immediately replaced with confusion. I understood why—he was walking into a strange quartet.

"Will someone—what is this underworld creature doing in my forest!" Leneus began shouting, waving his arms and trotting on his hooves as if the grass were hot. "You there, Percy Jackson! Is this your beast?"

"Sorry, Leneus," Percy said. I swore I could hear the faintest hint of laughter in his words. "That's your name, right?"

The satyr rolled his eyes. "Well, of course I'm Leneus. Don't tell me you've forgotten a member of the Council so quickly. Now, call off your beast!"

Mrs. O’Leary let out another bark, shaking the ground a bit. Nico had found a tickle spot right behind her ear.

The old satyr gulped. "Make it go away! Juniper, I will not help you under these circumstances!"

Juniper turned toward my brother. "Percy," she sniffled. "I was just asking about Grover. I know something's happened. He wouldn't stay gone this long if he wasn't in trouble. I was hoping that Leneus—"

"I told you!" the satyr protested. "You are better off without that traitor."

Juniper stamped her foot. "He is not a traitor! He's the bravest satyr ever, and I want to know where he is!"

Percy had just opened his mouth, probably in protest, when the hellhound barked again. Leneus’ knees started knocking. "I . . . I won't answer questions with this hellhound sniffing my tail!"

Nico looked like he was trying to not crack up. "We'll walk the dog,” he volunteered, “Won’t we, Angie?" He turned towards me with an expression that told me he wasn’t asking. I pushed away the feeling of cold dread that crept up my spine whenever I was around him.

“Umm, sure!” Percy looked uneasy as he shot me a cautious glance. I nodded at him, and he looked back to Juniper. Percy and I were getting better at communicating without words, twin stuff, I guessed, and I knew what he was trying to tell me—be on your guard. It’s not that we didn’t trust Nico…but as children of Poseidon, we had to be a little more careful around the other kids of the Big Three. Especially since Hades didn’t like Percy all that much.

He whistled, and Mrs. O’Leary took off like a shot to the other end of the grove. Nico raced after her, and I took that as my cue to follow.

When we finally caught up to the hellhound, she was sniffing around some boulders the way she did when she was about to, uh, relieve herself, so Nico and I gave her plenty of space.

“You’re nervous about what comes next.” Nico spoke, his voice grim. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” I couldn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s the only way, Angie. The only way Percy has a chance against Luke.”

I knew he was right. But that didn’t stop me from hoping. “What if there is another way? Maybe there’s something that I can do—”

“Angie, how many times do we have to go over this?”

I snapped my head towards him, desperation filling my eyes. “Everyone keeps telling me the same thing! But I won’t give up on him! Not until—” my voice broke and I took in a sharp breath. “Not until I can’t fight anymore.”

Nico’s eyes softened, and he looked more sad than usual. Which was saying something. “I understand wanting to hold on to him. Trust me, I do. but you have to let go. You have to believe when people tell you this is his fight. The things that are coming…” he got a faraway look in his eye, like he was looking through me into a scary future. “We’ll need you.” He focused on me again.

Nico was always saying strange things. Being a child of the underworld, he spent most of his time underground, talking to ghosts. And ghosts could see more than livings could, sometimes even into the future. Nico always knew more than other demigods, but he had learned quickly that most of the time, those things were for him alone. It was almost impossible to get information out of him.

“Everyone keeps saying that, too. But it doesn’t make me feel better.”

Nico cracked a small smile, and I noticed the way it made his dark eyes shine. When he didn’t have a permanent scowl on his face, he actually looked pretty kind. “I know. But give it time—sometimes the only way to understand something is by going through it.”

I considered the small boy, and decided he was much too wise for a twelve year old.

Mrs. O’Leary, finished with her business, bounded up to us and nearly knocked me over. We pet her for a little bit before Nico turned his head in a curious way before announcing, “Let’s head back.”

I didn’t question him.

We reached the clearing in time to hear my brother say, “I've got worse enemies than overweight satyrs."

"Good job, Percy.” Nico said as he walked up to him and Juniper. “Judging from the trail of goat pellets, I'd say you shook him up pretty well."

Percy gave him a weak smile, and I could tell he knew why the son of hades had come calling. "Welcome back. Did you come by just to see Juniper?"

Nico blushed. "Um, no. That was an accident. I kind of…dropped into the middle of their conversation."

"He scared us to death!" Juniper said. "Right out of the shadows. I heard that Angie got a note about Grover when she was going through Chiron’s reports, but it didn’t say anything helpful.” She sounded so dejected, but immediately perked back up. “But, Nico, you are the son of Hades and all. Are you sure you haven't heard anything about Grover?"

Nico shifted his weight. "Juniper, like I tried to tell you…even if Grover died, he would reincarnate into something else in nature. I can't sense things like that, only mortal souls."

"But if you do hear anything?" she pleaded, putting her hand on his arm. "Anything at all?"

Nico's cheeks got even brighter red. "Uh, you bet. I'll keep my ears open."

She nodded glumly. "I hate not being able to leave the forest. He could be anywhere, and I'm stuck here waiting. Oh, if that silly goat has gotten himself hurt—"

Mrs. O'Leary bounded back over and took an interest in Juniper's dress.

Juniper yelped. "Oh, no you don't! I know about dogs and trees. I'm gone!"

She went poof into green mist. Mrs. O'Leary looked disappointed, but she lumbered off to find another target, leaving Nico, me, and Percy alone. The atmosphere immediately shifted into something tense and dark. My brother turned to face me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“I think I need to talk to Nico alone for a bit. Stay here?”

I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. “Yeah, okay. Just…just don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

His eyes got sad. “I won’t.” He ruffled my hair a bit, and this time, I let him. Nico gave me a small smile, his face still a shade of red, before the two boys turned and walked deeper into the woods.

I sat in a small meadow that was on the edge of the clearing we had been standing in, passing the time making and unmaking small flower crowns. Katie Gardener had taught me how to make them, although mine were never as good as hers were. I knew I should be doing something more productive, like practicing my throwing knives, running sword drills, or even working on strengthening my abilities, but I couldn’t make myself do any of that. It all felt too heavy. Just as I was about to get up and walk back into camp, assuming Percy had forgotten about me, he came running back into the clearing.

“Angie?”

I made my way over to him quickly. “Are you leaving?”

I could tell by the look in his eyes that the answer was yes.

“It’s time.” He didn’t have to say more.

I threw my arms around his neck and didn’t try to stop my tears from soaking the shoulder of his orange Tshirt. He held me close, smoothing my hair and whispering some comforting words that I wasn’t paying attention to. Before long, he pulled away. His eyes were red and wet.

“Don’t go.”

I knew it was selfish of me to say. I knew it wasn’t fair. I knew he didn’t want to be anyone’s martyr just as much as I didn’t want him to die. He didn’t ask for any of this—and he didn’t need any more reminders of how close to the end he was.

“I have to, Angie.” Percy sounded exhausted. Now, just the two of us, he let his shoulders slump and there wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face.

“You know It’s the only way to stand a chance against Luke. If he’s invincible, then I have to be, too.” He continued. “We’re no match for the Titan army. You know that. This comes down to me and Kronos.” The words sounded like they were coming from someone else, his eyes faraway and distant. I recognized them as the ones Nico had told him, almost a year ago.

“But it’s not fair!” I sounded like a petulant child, but I didn’t care. “It’s not fair that it has to be you.”

Percy sighed like he was disappointed I was only now figuring this out. “It’s not.” He admitted. “But the life of a demigod isn’t fair. Especially for a child of the Big Three. It’s…it’s just our fate.”

He tried to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear, but I flinched away from him.

“But I don’t want to lose you! I can’t lose you! I don’t know how to—” the words caught in my throat, a sob taking their place. I dissolved into tears, and before I knew it, Percy’s arms were around me. I didn’t try to fight him.

“Can I tell you a story?”

It was such a strange thing to say that it caught me completely off guard.

“What?” My voice cracked.

“A story my mom, our mom, told me when I was very small.” He began. “And one I’m sure she would’ve told you. It’s the reason why she named me Perseus in the first place.”

“Because he was a hero?”

Percy chuckled. “That’s what I thought at first, too. But no. Because, against all odds, he is one of the few heroes who managed to find his way to a happy ending.” I thought about that for a moment. His happy ending was living a life with the person he loved, Andromeda. I wished that could be true for Percy and me, but the thought felt too far away to reach.

“When he was a very little boy,” Percy continued, “he and his mother were placed into a wooden chest and cast out into the sea by a very angry king. Alone. Afraid. And at night, his mother would whisper in his ear: ‘Hold fast, Perseus. Brave the storm that was made to break us, for we are unbreakable. As long as we have each other.’”

Percy whispered as he smoothed my hair. My breathing began to steady.

“As long as we have each other.” I echoed. “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Percy chuckled, probably remembering the time I forced him to watch all of the Lord of the Rings movies this past year. I had always loved that quote, and after he heard it, it had become our mantra.

“You’re such a nerd.” There was a smile in his voice. A comfortable silence fell over us as we held onto each other, not knowing when either of us would get to hug our sibling again. When he spoke again, his voice was low and gentle, but very sure.

“So…hold fast, Angie. That’s what mom said to me when I first came to Camp, when I was figuring all this out. Hold fast. Brave the storm.”

“Hold fast.” I echoed, wanting the words he was saying to sink into my heart and find a permanent place there.

I had only known Percy for about a year, but in that time, he had become a part of my soul. The thought of losing him tore me apart. Every fiber in my being was screaming at me to hold onto him forever, to never let go. I wanted to beg him to take me with him, plead to take his place.

But I knew it was no use. In that moment, I knew I wasn’t strong enough. But Percy was.

And more than that, I knew Percy would never let me. This was a journey he had to take on his own, and I would just have to find some other time to save him further down the road.

I let go of him and looked into his sparkling eyes, identical to mine.

“You can do this.” I put all the power I had into my words. “I’ve never believed in anyone more than I believe in you.”

He managed a smile. “I’ll see you again.”

“I know you will. We are unbreakable, as long as we have each other.”

I swore I saw tears begin to pool in his eyes, but I didn’t say anything. He pulled me into another hug, tight and quick, before letting go and messing up my hair. And this time, just this once, I let him.

Then he turned and disappeared into the darkness, only stopping to look back once.

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damnaation · 28 days ago

Text

Beloved

Everyone knew gods did not love mortals. Why would he be any different?

Size difference fluff, no vore, some very vaguely alluded to non-euclidian physiology.

Ao3 link

"What am I to you?"

He was quiet for long enough that they weren't sure if they'd actually spoken, but his thumb paused in the gentle strokes along their shoulders.

"What do you mean?" He actually sounded confused—but it shouldn't be that difficult of a question to answer.

She sat up—his hand shifted to allow her, curling loosely around her back instead of draped over top of her like a blanket—, gaze fixed on her nervously wringing hands as she spoke.

"You're a god. I'm mortal. S'not... I'm not..." Not what? "... I'm just a human. Not even an important human. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

A familiar sense of vertigo washed over them and they closed their eyes, anxiously wondering if they'd upset him. They were just being honest-

Hands settled heavily on her shoulders, making her flinch in surprise, opening her eyes to see Lord Juniper—at her scale, or near enough—staring at her with the most serious expression she'd seen on his face. "Red. I chose to keep you as my companion. You could have tended to my shrine or been a priestess, but I wanted to bring you here."

Their voice failed them for a moment, feeling the slightest hint of claws against their skin as his eyes went slit-pupiled for the briefest of seconds. They dropped their gaze, shoving back the brief, instinctual flicker of fear before speaking. Insolent, but they needed to know. "But what does that mean? What am I? A pet? A pretty little plaything for you to coddle and coo over until I'm too old, and the next pretty young offering catches your eye?"

He released her so quickly it was as if he'd been burned, silence falling cold and heavy between them.

Answer enough, some small, wary part of them whispered. Perhaps the same part that told them to stay still and be quiet when he let any inhuman traits show, lest they be punished again.

"I love you."

"No you don't." The response was out almost before she could think about it—gods didn't love mortals. And if they did, it certainly wasn't as equals. Affectionate, caring, perhaps, but that wasn't love. No one would love an insect.

Hands cupped their jaw, turning them to look at him—gentle, but intractably firm. His voice was tightly restrained, dark eyes flickering with a cool anger. "I do not lie to you."

Her nerves faltered for a moment—he swore not to harm her, but she had never angered him before, never intentionally defied him like this.

"Gods don't love mortals."

His grip tightened almost imperceptibly, eyes sharpening into a snakelike stare. "I was mortal."

"But you aren't anymore." Her voice was barely more than a murmur, swallowing thickly against the fingers brushing her throat. That small part of her was screaming now, to be quiet, bow her head, roll over and show submission.

He released them then, letting out a low growl of a sound that they'd never heard from him before and surging to his feet—almost seeming to flicker before their eyes, as if he were struggling to maintain his form. They watched as he stalked across the room, feathers and scales flickering in and out of existence. At one point he even appeared to have wings, but they too vanished in an instant as he finally stopped in front of them, tall and furious and looking entirely human.

"I have loved you since I first saw you, the most beautiful gift ever offered in my shrine. I love you as timber loves fire, as a cliff loves the sea, as a stone loves the river. I would love you as long as you live, burning and smoothing and changing me from the inside out. I-" He faltered for a moment, shoulders slumping and guilt flashing across his face as dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands gently cradling her ankle before he continued. "I love you so much the Dark could not bear it, and tried to take you from me. Gods do not love as mortals do, dear one, but I assure you, we do love."

She blinked away tears in her eyes—when had she started crying?—, sitting silently as she tried to comprehend his speech. All of the little touches, the terms of endearment, the soft kisses brushed against her hair or forehead or hand-

Whatever you did, I wanted it to be your choice.

He loved her enough to let her leave forever, if she'd wanted to.

"I'm sorry. I should not have told you like this." He murmured, dropping his hands into his lap and moving as if to stand, but before he could they slid off the bed to sit in front of him, grabbing one of his hands in their own.

"I want you to tell me. What am I to you? What is my role here?" Their voice wavered slightly, but he never denied them anything they asked for outright.

"My companion. A friend, if that is all you wish. Or more, if you choose."

A friend. She liked that—it was certainly better than she'd expected to be at first.

Scooting along the floor, she leaned against him with a soft hum, giving his hand a squeeze before resting her head on his shoulder. "Okay."

He stilled for a few moments, seeming unsure, before putting his arms around them and pulling them into his lap. They moved willingly, humming quietly as he tucked their head under his chin.

"... I never thought of you as lesser—you are mortal, yes, but that simply meant it was my duty to care for you. For as long as was necessary—if you chose to return to the mortal world, to tend to my shrine as a priestess or make your own way. Or..." He trailed off, stroking their arm with his hand.

"If I was no longer mortal." She supplied in barely more than a whisper.

"Yes. But I would not make that decision for you, and would not ask you to make it lightly. Once you do, it cannot be undone."

It was a frightening thought—shedding everything she'd known to become immortal. Would she become a god in her own right, or would she simply be stuck in between, neither fully divine nor fully mortal?

"Whatever you decide, I will support you fully. I would love you either way." His voice was soft, fingers gently combing through their short, coppery hair as he held them close. "But you don't have to decide today, or any time soon. When you are ready."

Letting out a soft hum, they closed their eyes, relaxing bit by bit as he held them close. Soft, gentle touches, no different from how he'd interacted with them before, but seeming so much heavier now that they knew.

The both of them sat together in comfortable silence for a while—long enough she almost began to doze off leaning against him—before he spoke again.

"Might I make one request?”

Blinking their eyes open, they sat up to look at him with their head tilted slightly. “What is it?”

He looked almost embarrassed, glancing away like a young man asking his beloved to a festival before speaking. “May I kiss you?”

She stared at him gobsmacked for a moment—he'd said he loved her, but she was still trying to wrap her head around what that meant, to have a god that loved her—, long enough for him to turn away as if ashamed. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't-”

“No- I mean. I-if that's what you want.” They blurted, interrupting his awkward apology. Not opposed, merely shocked.

“Is it what you want?” His voice was serious, even as he lifted his hand to cup their cheek, thumb stroking the smattering of freckles that spread across their nose and under their eyes. “I don't want you to agree just because you're trying to keep me happy. I would much rather you be comfortable.”

“... I don't know. But I don't not want to.” She answered, barely more than a whisper. It wasn't as if she was opposed to the thought, just that… she wasn't really sure what to think. But he was kind to her and cared for her, did his best to keep her happy and comfortable in a realm she wasn't made for. “Can't know if I don't try, right?”

For some reason that made him chuckle, shaking his head slightly with a soft grin. “I suppose I cannot fault your logic. But if you're certain…?”

Hesitating for a brief moment, they took a breath before nodding slowly. And then-

And then.

He was gentle, hands cradling their face as if they were made of the most delicate glass, his lips warm as he pressed against their own. They gasped softly, and that seemed to snap some thread of his composure, devouring them like a ravenous creature and leaning ever closer in the process until he had to move one of his hands to brace himself against the floor.

“I still have to breathe.” She murmured, pulling away just enough to catch her breath. He'd all but laid her out on the floor, coppery hair spilling around her head like a halo as she looked up at him, her breath catching in her chest.

He was gazing at them with what they could only describe as pure, unadulterated adoration in his eyes, as if they were the sun and he'd been trapped in the dark for days on end. Familiar dark feathers sprouted from his shoulders, and they could feel smooth scales against their cheeks. Their heart skipped a beat, but before they could react beyond that he seemed to notice, drawing back to no longer loom above them as the feathers vanished.

“My apologies, I know that makes you uncomfortable.” There was a quiet reservedness in his voice, and she felt a pang in her chest—almost the same place as when his oath was triggered. Pushing herself back up, she took his hand—getting a small, inquisitive hum from him in response—and gave him a small smile.

“I want to get used to it—don't like being afraid of you.” They were trying to get used to his less human appearances at times, but it was still a work in progress, especially as he rarely revealed any of it around them unless he was already upset.

Juniper was silent for a moment before suddenly pulling them closer by the hand—prompting a small, startled noise from them in the process—before wrapping his arms around them and resting his cheek on the top of their head. “Anything you ask, little one. But let's get you off the floor first, I can't imagine you're very comfortable.”

She would have stood herself, but before she could even start to disentangle herself he easily lifted her off the ground, holding her as if she weighed little more than a puff of wool. He quickly settled her down on the edge of his bed—just a bit bigger than it had been, it seemed, though she couldn't be completely certain—, before kneeling down in front of her, folding his arms across her knees and resting his head on top.

A little larger than her scale, then.

“What would you like to see?” The question was gentle, reminding them of what they had said. They thought for a few moments, considering the things they'd noticed, before finally speaking.

“You had wings- earlier, I mean.” She'd only gotten a brief glimpse at the time, but it was enough to make her curious. “Can I see?”

For a moment there was no response, as if he was thinking, but before they could say anything he changed. So suddenly it was like they'd blinked and he had wings, yet it also felt as if they'd been there the whole time. Inky black feathers spilled across the bedsheets as he shifted his position until he loosely circled their waist with his arms, head pillowed on their lap and wings spread over the bed.

They looked almost exactly like a raven's, broad and dark with an iridescent sheen to the feathers, though green and gold instead of the blues and violets she was used to. Running her fingers through the feathered expanse, she could feel his arms shift slightly around her waist, along with a low hum from where his head was buried against her middle. Pausing and lifting her hand from his wing, she tilted her head in mild concern. “Is it alright if I touch?”

“Of course.” His response was quick, head raising slightly to look up at them. “... It feels quite nice, actually.”

He sounded almost as if he'd been on the verge of falling asleep. And with how he'd responded when they'd brushed through his wings…

“When was the last time anyone touched you like this?” The question was out almost as soon as they could think it—perhaps that was insolent of them, but they couldn't help it.

He was quiet for a bit, but she could feel him idly toying with the back of her shirt. “Before my ascension, most likely. The others find my focus on mortals somewhat off-putting.”

His answer sent a pang through her—when he told her he'd once been mortal, he also said it had been several centuries since then. She couldn't imagine spending so long without an affectionate touch, so it was no wonder he'd been so attached to her, now.

But that was finally something they could do—he'd cared for them and looked after them, they could at least make some small attempt to return it. Settling their hand back down on his wing, they returned to combing through the feathers with their fingers, straightening the occasional crooked one but mostly just… petting.

She could hear and feel another low hum as he settled his head back down on her lap, relaxing as she continued to run her fingers through his feathers—and after a momentary pause, she rested her other hand on his head, twining her fingers through his loose dark curls. He shivered slightly, but didn't move beyond leaning a bit more against her legs.

His hands were still working the back of their shirt, just slow idle strokes along the fabric with fingers that they were fairly certain were now clawed. It didn't bother them though—maybe because they couldn't see it, maybe because he was acting like a lazy cat sprawled in their lap as they combed through his feathers.

Juniper was practically melting under her touch, whatever bits of tension she could feel in the muscles of his wings fading into nothingness the longer she spent petting his feathers—which started to spread after a while, creeping along his shoulders to meet with the green scales spreading up from his hands. A long, serpentine tail curled around her legs, tufts of feathers tickling her skin as it moved. He was looking far less human by the minute, but it was an entirely new appearance to her. And then-

His form seemed to blur, the familiar vertigo of things changing overcoming them, but somehow far more intense than normal. They closed their eyes on instinct, and no sooner had they done so than reality itself seemed to twist.

She could feel a shifting mix of feathers and scales cradling her, soft and smooth against her skin. A hand settled over her eyes—cool, dry, the slightest hint of claws resting lightly against her cheek.

Don't look.

No words were spoken, but they heard them all the same, a familiar voice echoing in their head.

They hardly had time to wonder why before He spoke again.

To gaze upon divinity would drive mortals to madness. And I am quite fond of you as you are, little one.

Oh.

More hands reached out to touch her, interlacing their fingers together, carding through her hair, holding her as if she was a precious, fragile gem.

Feathers and scales shifted around them, tucking them away from the world and deeper into the heart of a god that adored them, far beyond any extents of mortal comprehension.

#i expect you to vore #ieytvore #vore writing #story #writing #size difference #fluff

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coulrology · 11 months ago

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So what's the lore with Juniper n their relationship with Vitimir n Hettie?

WELL for both, their relationships go back to their school days! Although the difference being that Juniper and Hettie went to St. Epiderm together, while Vitimir went to a different school (Glandus at the time he met Juniper).

I’ve briefly touched on how Juniper and Vitimir met here, so that explains their first meeting. To reiterate, Vitimir was a shy kid that didn’t really have any friends growing up (aside from bugs/whatever little creatures they spent their time around) and was bullied frequently, so that single positive interaction with Juniper, though small, really stuck with him and he never forgot it. Juniper didn’t forget it either, but being the sociable type meeting and talking to lots of different people, that moment sorta blended in with the rest of their memories. So fast forward to them both working as Coven Heads at the same time, Vitimir immediately recognizes Juniper. Despite Juniper changing a lot since his child self, that one good memory left such a big impact on Vitimir as a kid that he still held that soft spot for them. So of course, when Juniper eventually approached him on their own time, Vitimir already had this layer of vulnerability. Even though they might not have recognized him, from Vitimir’s perspective, there was that sense of familiarity and comfort; Juniper might have changed, but that kind kid was still in him. Now that they have the chance, Vitimir wants to actually get to know this one person who had plagued so many of their thoughts as a kid. And the rest is history!!

As for Hettie! Again, she and Juniper attended St. Epiderm together. Hettie was just as terrifying as a kid as she is now. She was everything- a jock, a princess, a bully, a weird girl, whatever you can think of. Though she’s very open about who she is, everyone around her was always so intimidated by the fact that she was unpredictable (and the fact that she’s both the smartest AND strongest person you’d ever meet is terrifying enough on its own). Most everyone- except for Juniper. To Juniper, Hettie was always such a character. She’s always been so confident and unapologetic, able to command people’s attention without even saying a word. Her unpredictability made everything she did so interesting. Juniper so deeply admired this about Hettie. And the fact that she’s 100% his type only drew them closer to her. Hettie was Juniper’s first ever crush, and that love Juniper had for her never faded. Though as kids, they weren’t in the same social circles, they did cross paths a lot, whether it was through Sonia (Scooter Crane’s daughter and childhood best friend to Juniper, who was also in the Healing Track), or Juniper getting injured for whatever ridiculous reasons. At this age, Hettie didn’t reciprocate her feelings (yet), but she had a fondness for Juniper because he was so different from the other kids for the fact alone that they had a (very obvious) crush on her. And while their crush may have caused them to do embarrassing things, and foolishly being used as her own guinea pig from time to time to practice her magic on, Hettie had cared about Juniper. To her, he always made life more fun and interesting. Fast forward to them as Coven Heads- Hettie has grown a stronger affection for Juniper. He’s changed over the years, but he still makes life so much more fun and interesting. Perhaps now, Hettie admires Juniper for the same exact reasons they always have her. They’re still a bit pathetic around her, but Hettie finds it endearing. Not to mention, Juniper still makes for a good doll to experiment on, and she takes good care of her favorite dolls ;-)

#ask #juniper jazz #vitimir #hettie cutburn #junimir #medical mirror #I HOPE THIS ANSWERS YOUR QUESTION I tried my best to make it sound coherent and not ramble on about certain things 🙏#tried to talk about hettie more bc i don’t think I’ve explained much of the medical mirror stuff publicly yet #or. anything tbh 😭😭#BUT I MEAN I GOTTA GET EVERYONE ON THE SAME PAGE EVENTUALLY SO THIS IS A START 🙏🙏#I can always expand on anything else if anyone wants me to and is curious :3c #you KNOW how much I love yapping about my stupid peacock I didn’t put all my blood sweat and tears into him for nothin 🫰#ALSO!! FUN LIL THING I WAS GOING TO MENTION BUT DECIDED NOT TO IN THE END BC IT WOULDVE BEEN TOO MUCH-#long story short lets just say hettie chose to hang out w juniper during the night of a school dance 🤭#THAT’S ALL I’LL SAY FOR NOW ABOUT THAT i have Art Ideas for that i -really- want to get to one day #okay i gotta stfu now i told myself i was gonna hold back on the yapping 😭😭😭#OKAY WAIT ONE LAST THING-#idk if anyone actually cares but reminder that I’ve got both junimir and med. mirror playlists if you wanna get a better idea of them!!#theyre not perfect but theyre still fun Okay I’ll shut up for real fr now ✌️

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astridhoff03 · 1 year ago

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Kung Fu Panda Fox 4 - from Cinema to Illumination Level

First I was really hyped about this Movie, because I was thinking: Hey they made Puss in Boots: the Last wish what could go wrong? The first Trailer then dropped and it looked promising, then I watched the Movie….

And oh my god why have they removed the Director? Why couldn’t we get Joel Crawford or Jennifer Yuh Nelson, who also worked on 2 and 3. Seriously Mike Mitchell? He is not famous for his incredible Track Record. But to the Film now. As a Standalone it works and it has some good Action Scenes like the Scene in the Tavern. The side Plot with Pos Dads was kinda funny, wish the whole Movie was about them. But the Story was a big disappointment on my side. It just doesn’t makes senses that Po has to pass the Title of the Dragon Warrior, he is in the prime of his life. It’s not like he is diyng or is sick or very old like Oogway was when he chose the new Warrior. Also they reahash the Messages from the first three Movies again as if Po had to learn them again, there no wise words or any emotional hook like in the previous three, which was one of the things I like about KFP so much, the Movie feels lackluster without these elements. Also they do the Hug-Scene with Po and Zhen like with Tigress and Po in KFP2, but less emotional. Apropos I don‘t hate Zhen as a Character, I also doesn’t find her Voice Actress annoying like in the little Mermaid but she doesn’t earn the title Dragon Warrior, it just feels wrong and she looks Designwise straight out Zootopia and doesn’t feel like she belongs in the World of KFP. Her Releationship with Po is okay I guess, but I prefer the fourios Five over her, hell Tigress and Master Monkey Are Pos best Friends, it would be so much better if they go with Po on the Journey and meet Zhen on their way to Juniper City. Also her Backstory reminds me to much of Tigress again. Another one who doesn’t belong is the Chameleon, she is also the reason why we can’t have the fourios five, because her motivation is she is to small to learn Kung Fu and Mantis and Viper are also small but can Kung Fu so…also beware of the Stairs when she’s around. I’ve seen how she pulled the the bear down the stairs. It doesn’t look dramatic. I prefer the word ridiculous. Compared to the other Villains we had she feels lackluster but had a lot of potential to be a great Villain. The plot with the return of the villains is also very useless, Tai Lung is just in the first scene and the end and says something really out of Character. They did Kai (who shouldn’t be there in the first place because his spirit got destroyed in the spirit realm) and Lord Shen dirty too, never would one of them bow to Po. And in my Opinion none of the Villains needed a Redemption. Fuck them to do Lord Shen dirty, he’s my favorite Villain in the Original Trilogy. Also Shifu has nothing to do in this movie, he’s just there for whatever. Also how he talks to Po is like KFP1-3 didn’t happen.

I was genuinly suprised that they have given this movie Illumination Budget, 85 USD that’s not much for a KFP - Movie and embarrassing too. I missed the old background style from this very much. The Original Trilogy has such beautiful backgrounds that looked like Chinese Paintings. To the song baby One more time I have to give one credit, it’s better than the Original but it doesn’t fit KFP at all. In httyd terms it’s like you would play heavy metal instead of Where no one goes, sticks and stones or Toegether from afar at the end.

Well another Franchise on my list I don’t care about anymore, I guess. Count me out if the next Kung Fu Panda Movies are about an Character that doesn’t earn the title and isn’t as enjoyable and charming as Po was. My closing thoughts are: this happens when you try to expand on a Franchise and that has already an ending, with Puss in Boots, Rise of the Guardians or Megamind (until they butchered that too as we had to witness) it is something else, these worlds you can still expand because these movies are in their infancy. With a Movie like KFP this doesn’t work at all, because it had an perfect ending and Pos Character Arc is completed. It’s not a bad Movie by any means, you can still go and enjoy it. Looking back I would also say it was an alright film, a nice gap you can ignore when your more of a fan of the original trilogy. But for KFP it is in my personal opinion a letdown. Also it is just a copy and paste of the Masterpiece that is called KFP2 but without any of the emotions. I’m also lowkey happy though that this movie is so mid, than now KFP3 gets more of the appreciate that it deserve, I’m honest it’s a still a pretty great Movie. The Wild Robot seems like an Apology for Megamind2 and KFP4 now and their last Hope, but I will accept it when I have seen this Movie.

#kung fu panda 4 #kung fu panda 3 #kung fu panda 2 #kung fu panda #dreamworks #dreamworks animation #jack black

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hold-my-candle · 2 years ago

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It Never Ends

(07/03/2023: mountain hiking)

“Daddy, are we there yet?”

“Not yet, Isaac.”

“Daddy, I’m bored.”

“We’re almost there, Isaac. You wanna take a look?”

The van crunched slowly through the narrow gravel road as it approached the foot of the mountain. The trees slowly passed the van, greeting them with their branches as they swayed in the late autumn breeze. Isaac took off his seatbelt and leapt towards the front seat beside his father. Seeing the mountain occupy most of his field of view, growing more in their approach, Isaac let out a sound of wonder and amazement.

The van crawled past a large wooden sign that had golden text emblazoned on a field of white, but the paint had mostly faded or peeled off, which gave the looming mountain a sense of antiquity. A forgotten piece of the Earth that has remained untouched by human hands. As they passed the sign, Isaac read out the discoloured text.

“‘Mount Moriah’? Daddy, why do you think it’s called that?”

“Beats me.” He let out a long yawn. As he approached a small clearing where he can park the van, he let out a deep yet strained sigh as he stretched his legs out of the van. “We’re here, Isaac.”

The two of them stepped out of the van, both stretching their backs and limbs after having been stuck in the vehicle for a seven-hour drive. They both had to wake up long before the sun rose if they wanted to make the most of this trip.

They paused for about a minute to take in their surroundings. The road stopped just past the clearing heading into the mountain. Pine and juniper trees shrouded the mountain with their twisting and towering structures. Their bristled leaves provided an ambience of prickling noise and resinous odour carried by the wind. The only contrast to the deep green of the mountain was the yellowish green of the marigold buds standing in the same clearing that Isaac and his father were standing in.

Isaac ran to a small patch of marigold buds and kneeled to look closer at them. “Daddy, why haven’t these flowers bloomed yet?”

“It’s just not their time yet,” the father answers. Isaac made a face indicating he wasn’t happy with his answer. He was taking out the equipment that they needed for their hike through Mount Moriah. He put the large bags of hiking gear and supplies, a tent, and two flasks filled with water onto the grass. In the corner of his eye, he found a glint of light just under the seat. He bent down to retrieve whatever was down there, but he feels a sharp pain shoot down his finger. When he drew back his arm, he noticed a small drip of blood running down his index finger. He reached down again, very carefully, to pull out a hunting knife that had slipped out of one of the bags. He emitted an irritated sigh as he slid the knife into his pocket while he sucked on his finger.

Coming around the van with the gear, he noticed Isaac sulking while he continued to stare at the marigolds. He let out another sigh and knelt next to Isaac.

“Look, Isaac. Do you see the yellow tips on these buds?” Isaac nodded.

“They’re just about ready to bloom. You feel that cold breeze?” Isaac craned his neck upward to tune in to the atmosphere. The wind stung his nose a little bit as he inhaled. He nodded again.

“These marigolds usually bloom as the winter starts. So, if we come back next week, you should be able to see the marigolds.” Isaac began to perk up again after his explanation.

“Daddy, how do you know all this?”

“Just trust me.” He briefly reminisced about a time before Isaac had been born. When the doctor told his wife she was pregnant with Isaac, she immediately laughed at the insinuation. He and his wife both knew that at their age, pregnancy is hardly an option anymore, but the doctor reassured her that she was indeed carrying a child. Even he remembered laughing when she came back home with the news. But the realisation slowly arrived at him as she showed him the scans that the doctor gave to her. After multiple failed attempts at conceiving, they had given up trying, especially when she had gone past the point where she could no longer. It was a difficult choice not to have children, especially when it felt like she had been strongarmed into this situation. Which is why they were filled with such mirth at the news of Isaac’s arrival.

He gave a light but forlorn chuckle and stood up as he finished his memory, “Come on, Isaac.” He offered his hand, which Isaac firmly holds, “Let’s start hiking.”

They take their bags and flasks and proceeded to walk towards the entrance of the mountain. There was no real entrance to Mount Moriah, but a pair of juniper trees had twisted around each other at their apices which formed an arch that somewhat resembled an entrance to a palace.

As they both crossed the threshold, there came what felt like an immediate change in the atmosphere. Birdsongs became more distinct and individual from each other; the towering trees created a dappled canopy overhead, which cast shimmering shadows onto the mountain floor. The smoky odour emitted by the trees intensified to a sharp and pleasantly bitter aroma. Every footstep they took crunched into the earth as they left their solid tracks in the dust.

“Daddy, why does it smell here?” Isaac asked. His father took a deep inhale, and gave his response, “They come from the trees. Hardly anything grows here except for pines and junipers.” He looked up at the canopy, then back down to Isaac. He’d been standing about three feet away from Isaac; any closer and Isaac would’ve been hidden by his height, “That smell you’re smelling comes from the leaves, the sap, the fruit, everything.”

“Daddy, where did this mountain come from?” Isaac had always been an inquisitive child, ever since he’d learnt how to speak. His father, being the most weathered and experienced in the world, had always been to answer his endless lines of questioning. Even as his mother held him in her arms, Isaac’s father recalled her saying, “He’ll grow up to be so smart. I just know it.”

He cleared his throat as he prepared his answer for Isaac, “I want you to put your hands like this,” He pointed his fingers at each other with his palms facing down; Isaac copied, “Now I want you to slowly push them together. Like this,” He pushed his fingers inwards. As they met, he applied more force, causing his fingers to slope upward. Isaac did the same, but he made a confused face, “I don’t get it.”

“The world we are in right now is made up of plates. Plates that are always rubbing up or smashing into each other. When two plates push and smash into each other,” He repeated the hand movement he showed Isaac, “They form mountains.”

Isaac rebutted with another question, “How come we don’t feel it coming up right now, then?”

“Well, the whole process takes hundreds and thousands and millions of years. You’re hardly going to be able to feel it happening.”

“Daddy, how do you know so much?”

“...A magic wizard gave me all the knowledge of the universe.” He gave Isaac a sideward glance before giving a gruff chortle that echoed into the trees. Isaac laughed along with him as they continued their trek. Isaac kept on with his questions, some relating to things in the forest, like the birds, the rocks, and the dirt. And some related to the outside world, like volcanoes, hospitals, the planets, and the minutiae of life. His father was always ready to answer.

Times like this, where Isaac and his father can get time alone, had become increasingly rare as they continued growing in their respective lives.

“Daddy, what happens when we die?” Isaac’s father slows down his stride.

“Why do you ask, Isaac?”

“Well, the kids at school keep saying weird stuff about Mommy.”

“What do you mean?” His voice started turning more bitter.

“They keep saying she died.”

“No, she’s not dead.” Isaac’s father mumbled. He refused to clarify further as he urged Isaac to continue hiking. “Don’t listen to those kids. Your mother didn’t die. She just...left,” his voice faltered, but Isaac didn’t notice.

“Is it my fault?”

His father balled his hands into fists, “No, Isaac. It’s not your fault. Don’t ever think it was your fault.” Fragments of memories flashed in split-second screenshots. A speedy car ride. A woman screaming in pain. A hospital. A child. Happiness. Surrounded by family. An argument with her father. High tension. A flurry of blips and beeps. They’re quickening. Packed bags. Her father looks at him with disdain. Resentment. She was still, a smile on her face. Rose-coloured cheeks. Rapid breaths. The child is watching. Regret. Red. Red. Red.

“Daddy?” Isaac��s voice interrupted his trance.

“Huh? What? What is it, Isaac?” They had been walking for a while, and he could not recognize where they were. The trees bunched closer together, which closed up the canopy and dimmed the forest floor.

“What is that?” Isaac pointed further ahead into the woods. A small wooden shack stood on stilts. The dark brown wood of the shack made it blend in with the trees of the mountain.

“Hmm. Looks like a storehouse.”

“A what?”

“Like our pantry at home. Just bigger”

“Let’s look at it!”

“Isaac, wai-!” Isaac bolted off to the shack with his father running behind him.

The wooden storehouse stood before them; the stilts added an intimidating height.

“This feels familiar.” Isaac chimed.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know”

“Ok, c’mon, Isaac. Let’s keep goi-”

“I wanna see inside!” Isaac ran to the other side of the shack, which had a set of stairs to climb up to the storehouse. His father followed with reluctance.

“Isaac, please be careful.” He held Isaac’s hand firmly as he opened the door. The hinges squealed as the door revealed the inside of the storehouse.

There didn’t seem to be anything inside save for some cans and bottles. A musty and stale odour entered their noses. A table stood in the middle of the single room. On the wall that faced them, there was an engraving carved into the wood, in an old language:

your eternal punishment

“Daddy, what does that say?”

Silence.

“Daddy?”

Stillness.

“Daddy, what are you doing?”

Fragments of memories coming together. Mosaics from the past. He drives his wife to the hospital. They wanted to avoid the ambulance fees, so she sat in the back of his car and screamed. They lived quite far from the nearest hospital, so he had to keep going and going, going faster and faster. They made it to the hospital safely.

He lifts Isaac, kicking, screaming, and crying, and holds him onto the table.

Some of her family and some of his family arrived at the hospital after he had told them what was happening. Her father was there, standing sternly and away from the group, anxiously waiting for the arrival of the little one. Her muffled screams echoed down the hall as nurses rush in and out of the room. It’s taking a really long time. It’s taking too long. Why is it taking so long? Everyone starts becoming worried.

With his free hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the hunting knife.

The screams stopped. Everyone is waiting for the doctor with bated breath. The doors fling open, and the doctor announces that the baby has been born. Cheers erupted from the waiting room, the only one not cheering is the father, still standing sternly.

He brings the knife to Isaac’s neck, pressing onto the soft flesh, his constant thrashing causing some blood to drip out.

Her father goes into the room, and he follows behind him. You see the child, and your wife, the image of their embrace embedded in your memory. He sees her father whispering in her ear. Her face is incredulous as she throws curses at her father. And all of a sudden, she stops. Her monitors begin to emit rapid beeping as doctors and nurses rush in. He is ushered out of the room along with her father.

“Daddy, please stop!” Isaac begs incessantly.

What did he say to her? He backed her father into a corner and grabbed him by the lapel of his suit. Blinded by rage, regret, and the void in his heart, he could only make out a few of his words, “Disapprove...sacrifice...obedience...Isaac...punishment...” The cup overflows, and her father is on the floor, unconscious.

He stares blank-eyed into Isaac’s tear-filled eyes.

The funeral was short and unceremonious. He held Isaac in his arms and felt something. Something ugly. A hideous feeling. He hated him.

He digs in.

No. More memories flood in. You watched him fall asleep in your arms as he covered his pink face with his arms. You saw him take his first steps and laugh with glee as he said his first words. He grew up faster than you had anticipated. He never noticed how much his eyes looked like hers. The first time Isaac properly called him his father. The first time Isaac said he loves him. Love. He loves Isaac.

The hunting knife dropped on the floor, splattering drops of blood onto the wooden floor. He threw Isaac up into his arms and embraced him as tight as he could. The number of times he said, “I’m sorry” is enough to fill a novel. Isaac still cried and quivered, his face buried on his father’s shoulder.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Isaac?”

“Daddy?”

“What is it?”

“Daddy, are we there yet?”

“Not yet, Isaac.”

“But Daddy, I’m reaaaally bored.”

The van crunched through the narrow gravel road as Mount Moriah approached.

#writing #short story #mountain hiking #you can tell i really rushed this one towards the end #the your eternal punishment part was initially in greek but my friend suggested to just imply that it was in greek so i just #left it in english

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waves-against-a-cliff · 2 years ago

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I’ve been obsessing over @ghouljams fae au for a hot second now and thought it’s time to pour out my fae!Oc for the fun of it all. This is completely self indulgent and literally includes none of the characters until the very end. Since most of it takes place probably centuries ago.

Kidnapping, fae magic, hints at family abuse, consuming children.

So, enjoy this unedited, written on my tablet, weird ass piece of fan fiction.

They watched the child carefully. As they had been for the last couple of days since having been accidentally summoned by the small, innocent creature. They watched from the tree line as they worked hard on the farm only to be treated horribly like siblings and parents alike. To say that Moss, Juniper, Agate or whatever they called themselves now, didn’t understand, would be an understatement. Humans, specifically older humans who hurt their young, made no sense to Moss.

The tiny tethers in the child were dazzling to see. Each tiny wish, something Moss could easily bring to reality, was granted. The mother suddenly gave the babe some extra bread, the brother tripped and fell into the dirty cow pen, the sister’s favorite dress was stained right before church. Anything the babe wished for. And the tethers shined in the sunlight. Whenever the child’s chores were done and no one was watching, it would run off close to forest line.

It stared at Moss, a twinkle in its eyes as Moss blew some pollen to the babe to make it sneeze. “Come here!” The father screamed when the babe wandered too close.

They licked their canines as they felt the desperation roll of the small child in waves. Calling Moss in closer to their prey but they were still stuck in the decision. The same one that caused hesitation each time; to keep the child or to consume it? Moss tilted their head at the small being as it took shelter underneath its bed. They would need to make their move soon or the innocence would be spoiled.

The moon was hidden, perhaps not wishing to witness the deal about to take place. Fair enough, Moss thought as they slinked into the small room. They lightly dragged their fingers down the babe’s fair skinned arm, the magic working immediately to wake them into a haze. Moss slowly led the small child out of the cottage, past the fence line and closer to the forest. “Follow me sweet one.” Moss cooed as the child sleepily obeyed. The babe yawned and rubbed their eyes as they followed this mystical creature into the forest. Moss bent down to the child’s level and their mouth practically watered at the smell of child like innocence.

“I can give you anything you want.” Moss whispered, brushing a stray brown curl behind the small child’s ear. “I just need your name sweet one.” The magic continued to trickle into the child’s sleepy head.

“I want-“ The child yawned, interrupting their sentence, “I want a nicer family.” They murmured and Moss nodded.

“I just need your name.” Moss repeated, trying to coax them into giving it up. The child bent in the closer and whispered it into the fae’s ears. A large grin appearing on their face as large tether hooked cleanly into the babe. Moss tugged on it lightly before they scooped the child up into their arms and ignored the horrified look on their face. Moss sighed in relief when they took their truer form, growing several feet in height, long fingers becoming akin to claws and teeth sharpening. Softly hushing them as they screamed and cried out before they stepped into the circle of mushrooms.

Moss blinked as the memories faded from their mind. No… they weren’t going by Moss anymore. Birdy was what they had others call them now. They couldn’t help the snort that escaped their lips at the stupid nickname. It helped distract them from the heart ache of loosing their favorite pet. Birdy had over done the tethers on it anyways. Sweet babe Elara, Birdy thought mournfully as they casted looks among the crowded streets. Nearly snapped their mortal disguise in half when they saw two of them. Three? That little chaotic one was tangled in tethers but that wasn’t what disturbed Birdy. It was the two fae that practically fawned over them. Soap and Ghost. Prices boys, Birdy didn’t see Price around and was a little relieved at that fact. Their pace quickened, Birdy had never been fond of these kinds of towns anyways.

#fae au #i dunno #i just think it’s neat #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #cod mwii #I gobble up each fae thing ghoul posts istg #tf 1fae1

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paintedhillsvacationcottage · 4 months ago

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Experience Nature at Painted Hills Cottage in Oregon

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In today’s fast-paced, tech-driven world, the Painted Hills Cottage offers a rare opportunity to unplug, slow down, and enjoy nature. Staying in this cozy Oregon Cottage gives guests a chance to reconnect with loved ones, spend time reflecting, or simply bask in the beauty of nature. With limited cell service in the area, it’s an ideal location to take a break from screens and experience true relaxation in a setting where nature’s beauty is the main attraction.

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For more details on how to book and what to expect, visit Painted Hills Cottage and start planning an unforgettable Oregon getaway. With its unique combination of natural beauty, comfort, and seclusion, the Painted Hills Cottage is one of the most inviting cottages in Oregon for anyone looking to experience the wonders of the Oregon wilderness firsthand.

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starving-angel-a · 7 months ago

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Ficlet

Title: Like-Minded

Fandom: Original Work / Good Omens

Category: F/F

Relationship: Amy Light/Lucy Estrella = God/Satan in their human counterparts from my main AU fic

Rating: Mature

Warnings: manipulation; disturbing themes; coercion (?)

Additional tags: Amy is a lonely genius; Lucy is an envious genius; asexual character (Amy)

Words: 1,119

Originally published: 2024-04-21

Summary “I hate that people worship you,” is the very first thing Lucy Estrella says to Amy Light.

Most people can't comprehend Amy's work. Lucy isn't most people.

Or: Meet-Cute except it's not cute at all

“I hate that people worship you,” is the very first thing Lucy Estrella says to Amy Light.

With its soft golden beams, the autumn sun warms the long corridor in the tall Faculty of Philosophy building, specks of dust swirling in the quiet morning air – a negative picture of fireflies dancing in the night. The classes are yet to begin, but one young woman, eighteen of age to be precise, is moving slowly, lost in thought, through the seemingly empty corridor.

Her hair shines like copper mixed with gold, her green eyes get cloudy and a little bluish as she tries and tries to put her ideas into words that could be understood by ‘mere mortals’ as she was advised. She knows she has so much to give to the world – the problem is, most of the world thinks and operates in four dimensions at best.

There is a small tear on her long white dress patterned with tiny, pale violet jacaranda flowers – the damage comes from Amy taking a walk through a park. The world constantly surprises her like that: her mind is so occupied, all the time, that the tiny, insignificant things around her find their space there by force and only because Amy’s mind seems to be infinite and always accommodating.

Lucy’s words push into her consciousness in pretty much the same way a wayward juniper’s twig creeped onto the tarmac path and snatched at Amy’s dress mere hour ago. And just like then, she acknowledges the incident without concern.

“I am not so sure that they do,” she says, turning to face the person who spoke, seated on one of the broad window panes, the way many students do, basking in the sunlight like a satisfied cat.

Amy’s been admiring Lucy’s beauty for almost a year now, ever since she arrived from Chile to study both philosophy and theology – shining black hair and eyes, sweet soothing voice, and, so rarely, that smile... A star, indeed, or rather – a summer night sky full of stars, seemingly cold sparks, with unfathomably hot cores, barely stable until the end, when either force inside them wins.

“They do, because they’re idiots,” says Lucy, stretching her legs in front of her lazily, the material of her black layered skirt sliding in waves. Mermaids, Amy thinks-pictures. Coals rolling in the snow. Falling. Falling but never hitting the ground. “They’re too stupid to realize that you’re wrong.”

“Wrong?” Amy repeats, clasping her hands in front of her, ready to listen.

“I read your essay.” Lucy leans back, head cocked to the side like a curious crow.

“Which one?” Amy asks, thinking this could be amusing, but wishing she’d ignored the girl, already mourning the lost time.

“All of them, actually.” And there it is: that smile. Honey. Laughing girls dancing around an old tree. Lucy means light, too. Andromeda hurtling towards the Milky Way, their spiral arms getting torn, just like Lucy tears apart the essay, knife-sharp argument by argument while Amy stares and listens intently, eyes wide and burning. “At this point, I don’t know if it’s your grammar or your maths, but it makes no sense,” Lucy concludes, dangling her feet in the air innocently.

“Excuse me.” Amy clears her throat. “I need to go to the bathroom and cry.”

She walks away in said direction, pressing the back of her hand against her hot cheek. She can hear as well as sense Lucy stalking after her, until they’re both in the bathroom and Amy grabs a paper towel to dab at her wet eyes.

“Are you actually crying?” Lucy asks with evident surprise mixed with glee. “Because I said you’re wrong?”

Shaking her head silently, Amy blinks, more tears flowing down her cheeks, which fascinates her fellow student to no end. “I’m crying, because you understood my essay enough to claim I’m wrong.”

“I’m not an idiot, of course I understood it.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Lucy takes in the perfection in front of her. Amy is the reason she came to Europe. A brilliant mind that requires propheths to translate its ideas into human language, and even then or because of that, the world is not capable of facing Amy’s truths. A light – pun intended – so bright it blinds instead of dispersing the darkness. The little queen of the mother of all science.

Lucy longs to take her place on that lonely throne.

She’s been carefully studying her for a year, only now deciding to interact and it’s beyond her wildest imagination.

She used to think Amy was pretty; all long, androgynous lines and delicate kissable lips. Crying Amy – with blue-green eyes sparkling with tears and redness upon her sharp cheekbones – now, this is a vision, a must-have.

With a slow intake of breath, Lucy closes the distance between them and presses Amy against the wall between two sinks and two mirrors. She looks good against the pale green tiles and there’s not a trace of fear in her features, only mild surprise. Lucy’s lips brush her cheek, stopping and catching one of the hot, salty tears. She hears her name, whispered in a tone that suggests a protest. Ignoring it, Lucy kisses down the wet trail, and when two slender hands grab her shoulders, unsure of the intent behind the gesture, she takes a gentle but firm hold of Amy’s wrists and traps them against the wall as well.

“Kiss me,” she demands.

“I’ve never― I’m not...”

As seems to be the rule, Amy doesn’t have the right words to express herself, but Lucy understands anyway. Her trapped little queen has never been interested in anyone in a ‘physical’ way. She’s not ready to figure out whether it’s any different with Lucy.

But, she’ll do it, because she’s just realized she doesn’t have to be lonely forever.

“So what? That’s the point. Kiss me,” Lucy snaps, weaving just enough threat into her voice. Or I’ll leave and never talk to you again.

Soft pink lips brush delicately against her own. It’s almost like that time she kissed a rose petal, except warm.

Smiling at all the unexpected wonders she received today, Lucy deepens the kiss, and is rewarded with another prize – a small sound that could mean anything from protest to demand for more. She chooses to interpret it as the former and act like it’s the latter.

Amy squirms in her grasp and mewls around her tongue.

“I’ll prove to the world that you’re wrong,” Lucy decides, pulling back and placing soft kisses all over Amy’s face.

Her green eyes have taken a grey-ish tint and her smile indicates amusement as well as a challenge.

This is going to be a bloodbath, Lucy hopes.

#my writing

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readingforsanity · 9 months ago

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Booked for Murder | PJ Nelson | Publishes 2024 | ARC

Madeline Brimley left small town Georgia many years ago to go to college and pursue her dreams on the stage. Her dramatic escapades are many but success has eluded her, leaving her to loose ends. But then she gets word that she not only has her beloved, eccentric Aunt Rose passed, but she's left Madeline her equally eccentric bookstore housed in an old Victorian mansion in the small college town of Enigma. But when she arrives in her beat-up Fiat to claim The Old Juniper Bookstore, and restart her life, Madeline is faced with unexpected challenges. The gazebok in the backyard is set ablaze and a late night caller threateners to burn the whole store down if she doesn't leave immediately.

But Madeline Brimley, not one to be intimdated, ignores the threats and soldiers on. Until there's another fire and a murder in the store itself. Now with a cloud of suspicion falling over her, it's up to Madeline to untangle the skein of secrets and find the killer before she herself is the next victim.

Madeline Brimley felt her small hometown of Enigma, Georgia in search of a better life. After completing college, she went to New York to work as an actor on Broadway. But, instead, she returned to Georgia to work in Atlanta, at the behest of her best friend and Aunt Rose.

But, now Madeline finds herself back in Enigma after Rose's death. In her will, Rose has left Madeline her beloved bookshop housed in the first level of her Victorian home. Unsure why she has been left the bookshop as she very rarely returned home after she left, she decided she needed something new in her life.

After Madeline enters the Old Juniper again for the first time in years, she is horrified to see that the beloved gazebo in the backyard, a popular place for local kids to hang out and make out as well as a historican entity, is on fire. The fire department isn't able to salvage it, and the new fire chief makes it known that it is believed to be arsen. The suspicion is on Madeline, as she just returned back from a life of flight and to the fire department, it makes sense. However, Madeline truly loved the Old Juniper and her Aunt Rose and would never do such a thing.

Madeline is reunited with a few characters from her past life, including Rose's best friend, college professor Dr. Philomena Waldrop and Billy Sanders, a boy Madeline once babysat as a child turned police officer. Madeline is working closely with Billy as the night before, after the fire department left the premises, she received a threatening phone call from someone claiming to have set fire to the gazebo, and that she should vacate the premises, otherwise the house with her in it would be next.

Determined to move on with her life, Madeline opens the bookshop that day, and meets a lot of the college students who like to roam the rooms of books, and even purchasing their college textbooks from the Old Juniper. Among them is Tandy Fletcher. Tandy is young, in her freshman year at the college in town and loved Rose just as much as Madeline did, even going as far as to helping her around the shop.

Madeline takes an instant liking to her, and invites her to work at the Old Juniper, and even offering her a place on the couch for Tandy to sleep as she had a fight with her best friend and roommate at the college.

But, in the middle of the night, Madeline is awakened to the smell of smoke. When she appears downstairs, she finds the front door and the frame are on fire and Tandy is on the floor, unmoving. After she is able to douse the fire and get the fire department on their way, she realizes that Tandy has been stabbed and is dead.

Within two nights of her returning to Enigma, Madeline's world has further crashed down around here. These series of events leads her to begin investigating the fire and Tandy's murder. With the help of Philomena and the local Episcopal priest, Father Gloria Coleman, the two of them form their own band of misfits in order to come up with the conclusion.

Madeline speaks with Bo, a young man whom was involved with both Rae and Tandy, Rae being Tandy's roommate. Despite being a small town drug dealer, he appears to have truly been in love with Tandy and not at all interested in Rae and the two of them had every intention of getting out of their small hometown.

They also meet Speck, a real estate man who is interested in purchasing both the church land and the land on which the Old Juniper stands. We learn that Speck is the culprit behind the mysterious phone calls Madeline was receiving, used as threats to get her to leave and sell the property so he could purchase it.

Madeline is sure that Bo is the individual who killed Tandy, but after speaking with Rae and accusing him of murder based off of something Bo had said, Rae turns into an entirely different person. She even shows up at the bookshop, intent on speaking with Madeline. And she confesses that she and Tandy had always been in competition with each other, since they were children. Since she had been interested in Bo, she follows him after he left her dorm room, telling her that he wasn't interested in her, and instead of showing up at his rented home, he showed up to the Old Juniper to meet up with Tandy. After arguing, Rae stabbed her and left her for dead, setting fire to the front door in hopes of covering up any evidence.

After knocking Rae out cold, Madeline comes too confused about the actions of the night before. But, in the event, Philomena and Madeline are able to repair their friendship after Phil confessed to being the one to set the gazebo on fire. Phil and Rose's friendship was much more than friendship, and the two of them had been in love, something small town Georgia likely wouldn't have liked much had they been public about it. After Rose died and left Madeline the bookshop, she became upset, sure she would have been left the shop instead, and when she saw Madeline on the first night, something took over her mind and she started the fire. But, she came to her senses the next day, and tried to get away with not saying anything but it was eating her up inside. With the help of Gloria, the two lifetime friends were able to get over what happened and Madeline even offers to put Philomena's name on the bookshop papers to make it officially hers as well.

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