#all the nice ones went to Blue Sky and Threads

[duskianfae]

N o r a

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Lemuria

(Masterlist)

hi! pretty big warning for this one, not just in terms of whump but because this section includes a description of mass death of a civilian population, including children. be advised.

(Content: mass death, child death, gore, magical exhaustion, physical violence)

================

The town was painted blue so that it was hardly visible against the sky. The people called it Lemuria, for reasons nobody could ever remember. All the children there tied beads around their waist, in recognition of the martial philosophy that threaded itself throughout their lives. They were a warrior culture. They produced an unseemly amount of insurgents.

Delta was curled up in the tent. The flap was pulled back so that he could see out of it. The whole of the town could be viewed within that little pocket. He laid entirely still, watching the strange birds that lived in the town soar across the sky above it. There was a nice breeze. It took a lot of effort for him not to fall asleep right then. But then, the noise made it hard.

He could hear them arguing right outside. All of them had been so twitchy all day, he was surprised it hadn’t come to blows yet. Well, there was still time.

“Quit telling me I have to. I don’t have to. Watch your damn mouth,” Paris sounded nervous. Delta could tell he was speaking around puffs of his cigarette.

“It’s not a good habit to get into. Everyone is on the same page about this except you,” The woman’s voice was crisp and clear.

“Lying by omission is still lying. If you’d have been straightforward with me, we wouldn’t be here right now,” Paris defended.

“It wasn’t a lie,” Another voice chimed in, “We’re working with different lexicons, that’s all. We’ll have to sort that out in the future.”

“Yes, in the future,” The woman agreed, “But we’re here now. Are you really going to pull out and just wait for another raid? You’ll be back here by the end of the year, I guarantee it, and the only difference will be that there were more Empire lives lost than there needed to be. And everyone will know that you had the chance to do something and didn’t.”

“Watch your mouth,” Paris repeated, then said nothing else. The silence hung in the air. 

Delta didn’t hear anything else, nor did he see any changes until Simon came to get him. He was unusually taciturn on this mission. Delta followed him out wordlessly onto the plain. All of them were standing out there aimlessly. A few meters behind them were the soliders sent as guards. It was a very small unit, not more than a few tents. The slick military uniforms looked funny amongst the wildflowers. Paris wasn’t even looking at him. Delta knelt down in the grass where they had indicated, training his sights on the town. Though it was far away, he could see the small forms of people walking around on the outskirts.

“The warning went out already?” Simon asked, uneasy. Paris shot him a glare. Really, it wasn’t his place to question them. 

“Yes. Several of them.” The female admiral answered him cordially anyway, “The grace period lifted this morning.”

Simon didn’t respond. He knelt down to Delta’s level, pointing out over the town, “The perimeters have already been laid with salt. Trace it. You need to level everything inside of it. The faster the better. Wait for me to give the signal.”

Delta nodded his assent. Simon clicked off the collar. The wave washed over them, bringing the temperature down by degrees. Delta felt out the landscape, creeping the tendrils down towards the town and encircling it.

“Are we absolutely sure this is legal?” Paris whispered to the admiral. It would’ve normally been too low for Delta to hear, but the aura picked up everything. It caught the subtle movement of her rolled eyes. 

Down in Lemuria, there was a soft dread in the bodies of the people. The warning flyers drifted around in the wind, their message both vague and in foreign tongue. There were more children there then Delta would’ve expected. Less steel than he was used to. He felt around the salted ground, trying to get his bearings. It wouldn’t be easy to compress everything, not when the buildings were rooted to the earth. Vaporization would probably be best. They’d burn up fast.

“Permission to launch?” Simon requested.

Paris hesitated. The admiral sucked in her teeth.

“Launch,” He said. Simon gave the signal.

The sound of the impulse carried over the field. In one glowing instant, Lemuria was gone.

Quicker than ever, Simon clicked the collar back on. Delta slumped forward, barely catching himself as the energy was drained from his body. He coughed a thick rope of phlegm out onto the dirt. There was blood in his hair. 

“You missed,” the admiral hummed. 

They all looked where she was pointing. On the edge of the salt circle, a figure was moving strangely. Little half steps away from the carnage. Fluid was pouring off of her. Her right arm was gone. The side of her hip and a good chunk of her leg was taken out. It hadn’t cauterized from the burns; it just kept bleeding. She limped on soundlessly. The ground was turning red all around her.

“Shoot her,” Paris said.

One of the soldiers moved up the mound, pulling his rifle up to his eyes. It fired. She fell limply to the ground, moving no further. 

There were other bodies on the perimeter, the few unfortunate enough to have been standing halfway on the salt circle. They writhed on the ground, limbs burnt off, their cries inaudible from such a distance.

“Fucking kill them already!” Paris insisted, his voice rising in agitation. Shots rang out in the dozens.

“Delta.” Simon’s tone expressed a sharp disapproval. Delta didn’t understand why. Simon didn’t explain it to him. They ushered him back into the transport, leaving him there alone. He coughed blood into the folds of clothes, trying to keep from dirtying the vessel. 

It took a while for any of them to come join him. When Paris did finally enter the craft, he smacked him hard in the back of the head. He’d been wearing his rings, making the impact heavier. Delta reeled, a soft noise of surprise escaping his throat. Simon climbed in, not acknowledging the hit. He didn’t know why they were both looking at him like that or what he might have done to deserve it. They didn’t speak to him. He rubbed the back of his head.

Simon collapsed in the seat, “What a PR nightmare.”

“It’s legal,” Paris shrugged, “Punitive plundering, I mean. It has its precedent. At least it was quick. Takes care of the barbarian problem.”

It sounded like he was trying to convince himself of something.

“You can blame her for it. It was her order.” Simon said helpfully. Paris shot him an exasperated look. He noticed Delta watching and his expression turned to anger.

“Fuck are you looking at?” Paris backhanded him. The slap itself wasn’t particularly hard, but the rings scraped him enough to draw blood. Delta looked down apologetically. Again, Simon didn’t say anything.

==========

Back in his room, Delta cleaned the blood off of his face. The scrapes were both too long and too shallow for it to be worth bandaging, so he just applied pressure until the bleeding stopped. He kept the towel pressed against his face, using the other hand to open up the laptop. They wouldn’t come get him again today, he knew that. Paris would be too busy doing damage control. Simon was too busy being mad at him, for some reason.

Delta’s eyes widened. On the front page of the site, there was already an article talking about the sudden “disappearance” of Lemuria. The reports seemed to suspect the Empire was responsible, but that was all. In the forum, there was much speculation on the weapon used to destroy it. But mostly, there was just outrage.

Civilian town. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore.

what can clear an entire city like that? am I seeing this right???

lol lemuria btfo

I HATE EMPIRE I HATE EMPIRE I HATE EMPIRE I H

They sent out warnings about this all week. We thought it would just be a seige or something.

Are there any survivors? 

Galatea is going to start a fucking war LMFAO

Soon enough, the thread was flooded with images of the carnage. Delta made them out clearly, shocked by the view they provided. There were bodies torn completely apart by the psionics. 

Put content warnings next time.

Are those children?? I feel sick….

no seriously what causes this? some kind of chemical attack? 

Rest in peace little ones :(

This is absurd. All the Lemurian warriors are already posted, there were none left at home. How is Empire planning to spin this?

Some of Delta’s blood dripped onto the keyboard. He cursed, blotting it back up. When it was mostly clean, he returned his attention to the screen. On some level, it tickled him to see their confusion about the weapon that had caused this. He hadn’t realized it was so under wraps. However, the gore had an uncanny quality. He wasn’t particularly squeamish, having witnessed a whole spectrum of violence firsthand. But seeing it rendered on the screen like that - and witnessing the panic it seemed to induce in the commenters - unnerved him. 

Still, he didn’t quite understand the reaction. He didn’t understand it any better than he understood why Paris had hit him. He remembered the great thing about the internet: he was allowed to speak and nobody could hit him for it. He moved to the end of the thread, typing with one hand.

ndhakdvsnnd: can someone explain what the problem is here

[oliverreedmasterass]

Oakland SCWT Recap:

My cousin said the instrumental music they play at the start of the show made him feel like he was waiting in line to go on a Disneyland ride and he’s so right

After The Falling Sky Josh was like “I hope we passed the audition” (nice Beatles nod there dude)

Josh introduced Lover, Leaver by saying “We’re gonna do a harder one now, just pure sex” and then Jake tore into the opening notes

Sam and Josh had their dawgs OUT for basically the whole show

Sam kept trying to tune his bass while playing his solo on Lover, Leaver and Jake and Josh were off to the side of the stage, pointing and low key laughing at him

I think Josh might have been held up backstage when he left during the Lover, Leaver jam session because he was singing along while offstage

Danny was having a field day spinning his drum sticks around, standing up behind his kit, and sticking his tongue out

Jake for the most part stayed off the catwalk…I think he’s still scarred from the amp

Josh stopped mid-monologue to tell a fan in the pit that he loved them, and he grabbed a necklace from someone and put it on in the middle of a song

Jake did the Rockin Robin riff and we got Rhapsody in Blue from Sam and Danny before Light My Love!! They also did their finger wiggle thing at each other when Danny came back on stage for the encore

Jake also played a bit of Norwegian Wood before Meeting The Master and I almost died

Danny’s solo went HARD and everyone chanted “DANNY! DANNY! DANNY!” When he finished, he pretended to shoot an arrow over to the b stage where Sam and Josh were applauding him. Josh mentioned that was the first time they got the timing right on that one

Sam and Josh chugged tequila on the b stage

Josh introduced Jake as a rock n’ roll Sherpa again before The Archer

Jake was literally on fire playing the guitar. Oh, and the stage caught on fire again - a stage hand had to come out with a fire extinguisher

Also god with that long tail on his coat, he was leaning a little bit too close to those flames during The Archer…I was so stressed out

Josh needed someone to carry his train behind him when he re-entered the stage for Sacred the Thread

Jake got really into his solo during Farewell For Now and had to book it back to Josh at center stage to sing the harmonies

Danny was singing along and mimicking Josh for holding out the last line of Farewell For Now

Someone in the pit had a sign that said Resurrect Oliver Fucking Reed and I love them

I’m pretty sure Sam and Josh pretended to either fence or play badminton or something on stage after their last song, and Danny did a pretty impressive golf swing. Jake tried to chuck a pick into the stands on the right side, waved, and then took off

That’s all I can remember right now but GOD they put on a hell of a show!!!

[chronosh0t]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ꒱˚.*ೃ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: male skk x Lee, canon-divergence （ NO BETA ）

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: something went wrong and now Gray Raven had three feathers left.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.9k

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Finally, it was over.

What it felt it was going to last forever ended in the blink of an eye. The once raging Hetero-Creatures now lying on the dusty floor, scattered all over the place. The same could be said of the different Constructs and Commandants, their bodies resting full of scars and blood after such an intense and senseless fight caused by the Tower. But those who were still standing and didn't get affected didn't look in better condition either, one could see in their faces how tired they were, both mentally and physically which was understandable.

However, it was over. That crimson red that once decorated the sky, giving such an ominous feeling, was replaced by a warm blue light. Instead of making everyone feel as tiny as ants now, the Tower represented humanity's hope, taking away the uneasiness of the upcoming future and giving Earth more time.

The Gray Ravens, despite the state in which they were after giving their best, were now waiting for their missing teammate. Whilst Lucia and Liv were helping those conscious by giving proper treatment to their wound, the Commandant was patiently waiting.

Sitting on a rock, the human's body was clearly at his limit. His mind, after connecting with a considerable amount of Constructs to keep them safe from the previous thread, was a complete mess. He could feel the heaviness of his eyelid, trying to shut down and put his body to sleep but he refused to. Not yet, when the reason for that blue light didn't come back from the battlefield.

A few minutes more, that felt like years, and his com device rang a few times. Without thinking it twice he picked up the call, expecting to see his friend and having a nice conversation. However, the only thing he could see was the bare land and the Tower quite far but the boy couldn't be seen.

ㅤㅤㅤ Lee?— the Commandant asked, there was a hint of concern in his voice. Did something bad happen? thought to himself. — Where are you? We are waiting for you to come back.

ㅤㅤㅤ Zenas… — there was a pause, static filled the awkward silence but after a few seconds, he talked again. — I am sorry.

The call ended.

……

Heart beating rapidly, his body was falling into an abyss, completely dark and there was nothing he could do. Far away, he could see a familiar silhouette so he started running but instead of getting closer the distance was becoming considerably worse. Suddenly the Tower was red again, the world was engulfed in that crimson blood.

Zenas woke up. It was a nightmare, the same nightmare he had been having since they came back from Earth after the Tower incident. It has been two years since then and, even though they were still fighting the virus as usual, trying to retake the blue planet from the hands of the Red Tide and Ascendants, even when it seemed like nothing much changed, something actually did.

Instead of four, now three feathers were left. His name wasn't in the memorial wall but the absence of his peculiar presence was unbearable. After that call two years ago, none of the Gray Raven saw Lee again. They searched nonstop day after day, refusing to give up, refusing to let him go to no avail. It was as if he disappeared without leaving any trace. But that was something he was capable of doing, indeed.

The team was given a few weeks to properly recover, not only from the physical wear but also emotionally after missing such an important part of them. The three of them knew, however, that no matter how much time they were given, it would've taken forever to come in terms with such a fact.

In any case, Gray Raven even opted for more work.

He took as many missions as possible, he even took care of all the paperwork, and decided to give a hand to other teams as well. He was trying to keep his mind as busy as possible to avoid any intrusive thoughts. Regardless, when night fell, it was hard to keep a good mood. Again, the absence was killing him. The guilt of not being able to help Lee, of letting him go alone to climb up that Tower, the regrets of giving up on his search. He felt he didn't give the very best to search for Lee. So he would opt to sleep when he felt tears making its way. Crying wouldn't help.

Today wasn't diferente. Woken up by the same nightmare, buried himself with paperwork and took missions to keep themselves busy. This time it was just a scout mission, nothing too complicated, but served its purpose. And after getting ready they flew straight to Earth. Safely landing, they stepped out of the transport craft and quickly did a sum of what they were supposed to do. Again, nothing out of the ordinary and the idea was to finish it off in a few hours, go back, and repeat the process.

ㅤㅤㅤ “Commandant, I will check the surroundings just in case before starting.” — said Lucia, she looked as determined as ever.

ㅤㅤㅤ “Alright. Liv and I will talk with the people and see if we can get anything useful. Take care.” — replied, after what happened back then, he became even more worried about the two of them. The feeling was reciprocal, too.

After Lucia left, the two of them went straight to the scavengers resting. Apparently the Ascendants started to be more active in that specific zone or that's what they kept on saying, mentioning a peculiar “agent” that would wander around, just observing the surroundings. Once Liv did a full body scan and made sure their vital signs were good, with the help of some Constructs stationed in that area since a couple of weeks earlier, started to accommodate some supplies they had brought from Babylonia.

Everything seemed good. Once Lucia came and reported back the situation, they ought to make an early report and send it to Babylonia. Nevertheless, Zenas decided it was still better to check once again, and going even a bit further, he didn't want to miss anything. And so they started to walk away from the safe zone.

The sun was shining as bright as ever, there was a cold breeze that gently played with the dry leaves resting on the ground, birds could be heard not too far. At that specific moment it felt like a normal autumn day, as if the punishing virus didn't exist and Earth was as peaceful as ever. He stopped in his tracks, the Tower was still standing, the blue halo was brighter than ever.

He could feel how the guilt and sadness was taking over him. That was a novice mistake. Too absorbed in his mind, reviving some memories he didn't see the threat that was observing them, nor did he realise he was the target of a gun. The blood was rapidly leaving his body, soaking his exosuit. He remembers seeing Liv running to his aid, Lucia was fighting someone, but they were too far and the Red Tide was, somehow, getting close. He lost consciousness after that.

….

A loud bang woke him up from his slumber. A door had been closed, was he in a basement? How about Lucia and Liv? Were they fine? He tried to get up but the pain was actually pretty bad and every single movement made him dizzy.

He heavily breathed and, with the little strength he had, forced his body to a sitting position. The room was completely dark but there was a small window, letting some light in, however it was far from enough but at least he could see some pieces of clothes soaked in blood, a few blankets beside his bed and a rusty night table. That's all. Except him, there was no one else. It was obvious that he got separated from his teammates. Again. A rush of anxiety was building up in his chest and cold sweat was starting to form on his forehead.

He heard steps. Someone was coming. A door opened and a figure appeared. The person was wearing a big and worn out cloak, covering the face and part of the body. Whoever it was, it didn't want for their identity to be known. Either way, he still tried to ask and see if he could get some answers…

ㅤㅤㅤ “Where am I?” — his voice was hoarse. As expected, no answer. But considering how hard that person was trying to hide from them, it would've been stupid to actually answer. He tried again.

ㅤㅤㅤ “Who are you? and why did you save me?” No answer. That only confirmed the obvious: whoever that person was, he knew them.

He tried to move closer, trying to reach the hoodie of the cloak but a hand stopped him midway. It was a robotic arm, no synthetic skin, just the white metal could be seen. A construct? But.. who? He couldn't remember someone with that aspect. That simple movement put him in pain, was his injury that bad?

He winced but tried his best to not lose the attention to the one in front of him. At that time an alarm rang, his exosuit was telling him that the punishing virus was high enough. His eyes widened at that fact, it only made him more confused because whoever saved him, it was an Ascendant. Out of the blue, he remembered that last conversation he had with Lee. How he apologised and disappeared. But why was he thinking about that now? Anxiety was again filling every inch of his body; if it was indeed an ascendant then he wasn't sure that he was saved for good reasons.

While he was lost in thoughts, and even getting nostalgic over some memories, the person in front of him turned to face him, and unexpectedly, handed him a bowl of… food. It smelled good, he had to admit. Yet he refused to eat it.

ㅤㅤㅤ “What do you want?” Are you the Ascendant that has been observing those humans?” — he knew by now that the percentage of getting an answer was below zero. It was getting on his nerves. “I am not in the best mood so stop acting like a mighty being and answer me”

Silence filled the room but it was quickly broken by a chuckle. Did the bastard just laugh at me? Zenas was ready to ignore the risk of fighting off a corrupted, his anger was building up pretty fast at that point.

The Ascendant let out a sight. With a swift movement the hoodie wasn't hiding the face, and even if the light that entered from the window was the same as nothing, he could still see it.

ㅤㅤㅤ “Why do you always end up in such state?”

His heart was beating so fast, he felt like it was just a matter of seconds before his ribcage was broken into pieces. There was a faint feeling of dizziness, his mind was a complete chaos and it was hard to swallow. His throat was dry. Time stopped.

He inhaled and breathed out. Zenas repeated the process many times and after his mind finally became just a white page, he did answer.

ㅤㅤㅤ “Lee…”

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🎐 I hope you enjoyed this.

🎐if you have any questions, ask me.

[curseshared]

Yeah instead of interacting with anyone I just decided to take the event info as a list of prompts and create a Rainbow of Hypothetical Liliths. Uhhh I'm not doing an rp ad, and the rules say you only get ONE double, so if any of these interest you, act fast to decide which one gets to be real. Also if you want an event thread in general please message me, especially if I still owe you a starter.

Original: sky blue; self-reflection. She embodies the feeling of being left alone with your thoughts, and realizing all the things you wish you'd done differently. She will be mopier than usual, stuck in a loop of regret.

Tint: ice blue; inaction. The best way to avoid making more mistakes is to do nothing at all, right? Right...?

Shade: midnight blue; despair. Regret becomes self-loathing, and without hope this becomes resignation to the fact she is simply a horrible person and nobody should ever associate with her.

Analogue 1: mint green; rehabilitation. This is a timeline where she made better choices a little bit earlier, so everything is just a little bit better for her. She is nice and understanding, even to her 'real' self's mistakes.

Analogue 2: violet; retribution. Something went horribly wrong in this timeline, and instead of dwelling on exactly how much of it is her fault, her mind is instead consumed with thoughts of vengeance...

Complement: earth orange; shamelessness. Instead of an 'evil twin', this is more like... a Lilith who is incapable of self-awareness, and therefore will behave in ways that are silly and uninhibited, a lot like Hooty, come to think of it. The worst threat she poses is oversharing.

[magicalrocketships]

i love the cross stitch! could you expand on it and the colors and everything?

Yes!!

So each row is a race, and it shows the grid position from P1 (left) to P20 (right). The bottom, incomplete, row (Spa) shows Max in P1 and I'm just finishing up Checo in P2. Shout out to Kevin for doing that nice little symmetrical arrow in yellow at the right of the grid for the previous few races, v aesthetically pleasing if meaningless, points-wise. Sorry, Kevin.

Before I started I was just going to try and pick an appropriate colour that matched each driver, but it turns out... I'm bad at that and also it was no fun, so what I ended up with was a mixture of a few colours that made me think of a driver (Max had orange, George has a blue that I think was on his helmet, Fernando had a really dark green for reasons I felt were obvious at the time but have subsequently slipped away) and then a pile of random colours for everyone else. These were my almost final choices:

Zero shade at all to my friend who looked at these and went "that is the wrong colour for Carlos and the wrong colour for Pierre" so I swapped them out, when I probably should have kept them distinct. Unfortunately I didn't actually think to mix alllll of them up and see how they looked next to each other, and as you can probably see from the actual cross stitch (if you stare long enough at it like I do) then I've got three very similar pinks (Pierre's new colour, Esteban, and Alex) and two dark wine reds (Zhou and Carlos's new colour) so you can't track them very easily in anything other than good light.

So: next year, I'll get 20 distinct colours that mix up well and then assign them out, rather than trying to think of a driver and a colour that goes with them (I wish I had this skill, but I... do not).

There was also the question of what to do to indicate the cancelled race, and I think I went for too dark a colour. If one's cancelled next year I'd want the row to be there but almost visually invisible, so I'd go for a shade nearer the background colour, I think. As you can see from this older picture, I'd tried marking out the DNFs/DNSs with a little x but I hated how it looked so I took them out again. I've got an idea for how to mark these without annoying myself by stitching onto the squares, but I'll try that when I've run out of races to stitch.

I'm also planning on doing little flags for each row to indicate which country they're racing in (will have to design these if I can't find someone else who's done it already on the internet), and then a key with each team and the driver colour. I might also try and log fastest lap and MAYBE sprint results, but I'm short of fabric space so we'll see.

For team colours (these aren't stitched yet, but they will be), I went with Sky's team colours, and these were a lot easier because someone on Reddit did a list of RGB colour codes for the Sky colour choices, and then I just converted them into the nearest thread colours, and decided which of the closest approximations I liked best. Here's the shortlist before I picked my favourite for each team.

So, there you have it! I was v lazy when it came to thread picking because I've got... a lot of thread (five or six thread boxes full) so didn't want to buy anything new and I also just wanted to get started sewing and colour assignment was stressing me out (lol) but it has been nice to do something that is actually very easy to cross stitch one I'd sorted out the colours.

[hslcat]

Saus-tember: Day 2 - Sails

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

He sat on the deck with his back to the mast in the midday sun, listening to the sounds of the sea, birds, waves and in the distance he could hear his fellow kestrels celebrating a successful raid and he was probably going to join them later.

But right now he was focusing on repairing the sails of the ship.

Turns out that none of the others could do a decent patching. He had guessed that Oli couldn't , due to the state of that shirt of his, but he had assumed that someone else at least knew how to handel a needle and thread.

But alas, he was completely alone in his endeavour.

Not that he didn't enjoy sewing, it would just have been nice to not have to patch the whole sail all on his own.

But here he was.

As he was sewing he thought about his Ma, she was the one who taught him when he was a little boy even though his Pa did disagree with him learning it, though he did nothing other than just complain about it.

His Ma had insisted that if he was going to be an independent man one day that he learn to mend his own clothes, something he was very relieved of now days.

He had learnt all types of stitches, back stitches, ladder stitches, slip stitches, hemstitches and, of course, sailmaker's stitches, which he was currently using.

His Ma was a seamstress for nobels, so she got to work with the finest fabrics in the most vibrant colours and the most delicate stings.

He obviously never got to work with them, he was just the son of a lowly sailor and a simple seamstress.

He worked with the bland but sturdy fabrics that the common folk wore, with the strings that could last for months even years under hard work.

But he still got to learn the tecnices that was only used for nobility.

His Ma had once gotten a roll of golden string from one of her clients, that was the one time he got to sew with the golden strings of the rich.

Just a small embroidery on a small pice of fabric, but still.

When he was seventeen he, with the guidence of his Ma, was working on a vest that would be worn when he went out on the sea. His Ma had managed to get a beautiful light blue fabric, dureble enough to be worn while working hard at sea.

When he was finished with the vest, the one he was currently wearing, his Ma had given him the golden string "To make your vest truly yours" as she had said.

He in fact still had the thread, he hadn't used it yet.

Putting down the now fully mended sail he sat back and looked up at the fast darkening sky, then he heard howls of laughter coming from the camp.

He smiled as he rose from his position, body aching from sitting still for so long, and started walking towards the camp.

When he arrived at the camp he saw them all gatterd around the fire, laughing, drinking.

And Scar sitting and mending one of his many hats.

He wasn't really as suprised or offended as he probably should have been, but knowing Scar, this is exactly what he would do.

As he lets out a laugh all eyes turn to him some suprised, some not, Oli looking between him and the empty seat next to him as if he thought Sausage had been sitting there a moment ago. And of course Scar, with the look of a man who has been caught in a lie but did not regret a thing.

The silence brought by his arrival is broken by Kyle bursting into laughter and the others soon joining in.

As Sausage joins in he knows exactly what he wants to do with his golden thread.

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

Second day done. This was a long one.

Was this supposed to be about mending a sail, yes. Did it end up being about Sausage learning to sew, yes,

So for this I had to look up different stitches and I picked five different ones from the list, but when I saw that there was a stitch called sailmaker's stitch it was perfect.

If anyone is wondering what Sausage is going to do with with his golden string, he was planning on embroidering the kestrels sigil on his vest.

[jessysapphireblue]

One Piece Advent Calender Door 5

Today awaits you some time with the simp and cook, Sanji!

Door 5: Tinsel or rather socks

Coming back from the Town with bags in arms, you went straight to the kitchen, to see Sanji occupying the table. “Perhaps I should evade the Kitchen. I´m back, Sanji” “Goddess~~~ welcome back! What did you got there?” “Ingredients for cooking. You know, Christmas cookies and stuff” “CAN I HELP YOU WITH IT~~~~”, Sanji began to swoon around you, as you heard the soft >Mellorine< around you. “Oh why yes, when you are there when I bake, certainly”

“Ah, my beloved Goddess! You warm this poor mans heart up like no tomorrow!!!” A short laughter passed your lips. “Oh why thank you...say, where can I store these up so-” “Oh why, certainly! I already prepared” You followed him into the cooking area to a little cabinet, where your name was written on. “Your own special little baking cabinet~” “Oh, Sanji. How kind of you”, hugging the blond cook, he melted in your embrace. “Thank you”, pressing a fleeting kiss on his cheek, you began to store your stuff away as you heard a thumb. Turning around, Sanji lay flat on the tiles, no emotions-whatsoever.

“oops”, you smiled wryly before “Sanji what is with all this stuff on the table?” “Oh, I deciaded to make some decorations!”, he smiled at you, jumping up. “Did you also-” “Not really. But I remember my Mom made me a Christmas stocking. For Reiju also. So I wanted to make one for all of us” “Aww, that is so sweet! Do you need some help`?” “Yeah”, he smiled and the both of you sat down. “Oh, would you like some hot tea?” “Uh, yes please” “Coming, my beloved~~~”, Sanji swooned back to the kitchen. You looked at the half-sewn orange sock. “You can sew?” “Oh why yes! My Mom taught it to me...well a little. The rest did the old Geezer. Here you go, Madmoiselle~”, he presented you the tea. “Thank you kindly, Sanji.” Taking a sip you looked at the different fabrics. “You already have each name pinned on the colors?” “Yes. Oh. What would you like? I wasn´t sure on either a pretty blue, an innocent white or gold for the goddess you are~~” “Well, my color is a gentle sky blue” “But while doing your magic you look so graceful and elegant like a white rose~” “Now don´t make this harder for me”, you looked at him with a soft pout. He smiled softly at you. “I take the blue one. but we could use the white to make a border around the sock” “Oh! A nice idea!” “Right?”

And so you began to draw the socks and cut them neatly out while Sanji sewed them together. “I wish I could help you with it but I´m too bad at sewing” “Oh, Don´t worry~ You did plenty by drawing and cutting it for me” A little sigh escaped you before you played with your finger as Needle and thread came together, moving your finger in the air as the needle began to stitch, making you smile and soon, it was done. “My Goddess, what did you do?” “Tadaa~ I gave it the last touch on giving each border a name”, smiling you held one out with Luffy´s name on it. “So neat and pretty” “Thank you”

“Why did this rubber idiot get you?! What did he do to deserve such a golden girlfriend?! Such a sweetheart!”, he began to sob. “Aww, Sanji, heads up. There is a woman in the world for you. And for you all alone! You will meet her. You deserve happiness” Big puppy eyes looked at you. “And if you really like one, please, just be yourself. She will love every side of you” “YOU ARE A GODDESS!!”, he shouted. “How can someone be so sweet and kind and gentle, yet so powerful and haaaa~~”, he began to swoon. “sanji, the socks” “Oh, sorry sorry”, he smiled and went back to sewing.

Soon, you had 11 stockings, each in their own color and with their names. “Uh! They look nice” “Thank you again for helping me, Madmoiselle~”, Sanji took your hand and kissed it softly, making you smile softly. “Sanji, it was my pleasure”, walking to the door, you just stepped a foot outside. “Oh, Sanji?” “Yes?” “Come here for a sec” he directly came over. “What is it?” You pointed to the misteltoe.

A huge blush came over the cook, swallowing. “W-Whoa h-hey ok, ok! Sanji, cool. Be cool”, he breathed out and you gave him a tiny kiss on the cheek. “Keep it ”, you whispered, leaving the wide eyed cook back in the kitchen before you heard a lout thumb, again.

He fainted.

[ineffablelunatic]

earth angel (will you be mine?)

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: GOmensEveryday Countdown Event (Good Omens), Fluff, Love Confessions, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Mild Time Travel, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), gabriel is not around, thank god, maybe Muriel is looking after him, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens)

Language: English

@gomenseveryday Five days to go!

AO3 link if you want to read it there:

The Ritz, early evening. He hadn't been able to get time alone with Aziraphale since Gabriel showed up. The separation was starting to wear on him.

Aziraphale looked so beautiful, like a star plucked from the sky. There was a glow to him, untarnished even after so many years of being crushed down. That glow had always guided him, had been his lighthouse in the darkness.

His angel was fiddling with the gold ring on his finger, twirling it one way and then another. He wished he could have done this somewhere more private, but he couldn't carry this burden for another day. After everything, after six thousand years of treading on eggshells and glancing over their shoulders, he thought they were finally safe.

Then bloody Gabriel showed up and the precious, fragile life that he had built for himself caught aflame, and now he knew that if he waited any longer he might never get the chance.

He drained the last of his wine, warm and burning in his throat, his heartbeat sluggish, content in his chest. Aziraphale cleared his throat, half-rising from his seat, but Crowley caught his hand, stopping him dead. Palms facing, the angel's fingers soft, smooth, delicate. It felt good.

"Crowley?"

He sounded unsure. This was it, the moment. No going back now.

"Angel, there's something I've been meaning to tell you, and it's going to sound stupid and sappy, but you have to promise not to freak out."

He blinked, slow, elegant. "You know you can tell me anything, Crowley."

He could do this. He had practiced over and over again, in the mirror, alone in St James' Park, reciting it to his plants, a mantra, a spell that he cast to protect his heart. Then Aziraphale smiled at him, and his stomach flipped into his throat, and all of those carefully crafted words left his head.

"IloveyouAziraphale."

It came out as one long word, and he swore under his breath. Aziraphale's face went pale, eyes wide. That wasn't the reaction he had expected. He looked like a deer trapped in the headlights.

Damnit. Damnitdamnitdamnit. He had royally messed up this time. Nerves rose like a sea within him, roiling and crashing, salted with holy water. Undo it, undo it, undo it. Unravel the threads, try again, hope that he could do better next time.

The Ritz, early evening. Aziraphale's hand in his, but before. Before he had spoken.

"Crowley, dear - what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Nothing important, angel. I just wanted to know - y'know, it's a nice evening, I wondered if you wanted to go for a walk in the park or something. We could feed the ducks - and - and - get ice cream."

Aziraphale's brow furrowed, bright eyes concerned. "Are you sure that was all?"

"Yes, very sure. Totally, completely sure. Certain."

---

He leaned against the railing, breathing in the crisp night air. The night was pressing in on him, the stars sitting on his shoulders like a funeral shroud. The ice cream shop had been closed - of course it was, it was 7PM at night, what had he expected?

"Are you quite alright, Crowley? You seem out of sorts this evening."

Second time lucky. He had tried once. He knew what to expect now.

"Aziraphale, what I've been meaning to tell you is that -"

Wide blue eyes watching him, innocent and soft and lovely, nothing like his own. He released a shaking breath. This shouldn't be as hard as it was.

"I know you think I go too fast for you, but I wanted you to know that I wouldn't mind spending eternity with you. If you're alright with that, that is."

"Well, we've already spent an eternity together. Six thousand years, in fact."

"I mean - not as we have been. Not as friends. As - something else."

No, that wasn't quite right. He needed time to think. He needed to be more eloquent, to be something that Aziraphale could want, could respect, could love. A snap of his fingers and the world slowed to a halt, the wind ceasing its steady sway and rustle.

Hands through his hair, pacing up and down. He ran a finger over Aziraphale's frozen cheekbone, dropped his head into his hands, pressed on his eyes until it felt like they might burst. He would try again. Another shift, the stars moving backwards in the sky.

"I really like you, angel."

"I like you too, Crowley."

"I want to be with you all the time. I would always be there if you needed help. Like I always have been. And I would buy you books and bring you cake, and I could watch you eat -"

He shouldn't say that. That sounded creepy. For someone's sake, why was this so difficult?

"I'm here, angel. Why won't you see me?"

"Of course I see you."

"Not like I want you to."

Again, again, again, watching as words failed him time after time. Damn scripts and practiced words. Damn the park and the sky and the stars and the moon that watched him from above. Damn the Almighty and her Ineffable Plan. He was too tired for this.

He turned away, shoulders shaking, blood boiling. He needed a stiff drink. He needed to hibernate for a thousand years and forget that he had ever tried this. He needed to sleep somewhere other than the Bentley, needed Gabriel to be out of his life, needed Aziraphale to see that he was right here and he always had been.

A hand on his shoulder, fitting like it was made to rest there.

"Crowley?"

"We should go home, angel."

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing." His shaking voice betrayed him.

Aziraphale turned him around, reached up, pulled off his sunglasses. "Hey. Look at me."

Soft blue eyes met his, the last trace of magic in the world, holier than anything he had seen before. Beautiful. A thumb traced the delicate skin beneath his eye, and he shook at the slight touch.

"There you are. You've been so distant lately. I've missed you."

He couldn't speak. His bones were aching, fatigue dragging him down. He didn't have enough energy to reverse time again. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

"And Crowley?"

"Hm?"

"I love you too."

That woke him up. "What? I didn't say - how did you - what?"

Aziraphale just smiled, leaning against him, a solid, comforting presence. "That little trick with reversing time doesn't work on me. If you'd given me more time to think before trying to reset everything, you would have gotten my answer without draining yourself."

He pulled back. "So why the Heaven did you let me?"

"I thought it was sweet. I wanted to know what other nice things you would say to me."

"What have I told you about calling me nice?"

"I wouldn't know. I was otherwise distracted."

His head was spinning. This didn't feel real. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him, for the sweet release of darkness to take him in its hold.

"So you - you - really?"

"Really and truly. I think I always did, but it took me a long time to give the feeling a name. I just knew that you made me feel safe."

He regained a little of his composure. "Well, clearly I wasn't doing my job very well, then."

"When have we ever done our jobs well?"

He chuckled despite himself. "Does this mean I can stop sleeping in the Bentley?"

"Mr. Crowley, are you using me for my bookshop?"

"Certainly not, Mr. Fell. I would never do such a thing, but it's very cold out there. Since you love me, I thought -"

"Alright, you wily old serpent. You can sleep inside. On the floor."

He winced. "It's better than nothing."

One arm around his waist, Aziraphale began to pull him towards the gate. Maybe this was all some strange dream, but for now, all he knew was that he didn't want to wake up.

[triforce-of-mischief]

Hanging by a Thread

Febuwhump Day 7: Panic (prompts 7 and 8 are swapped)

Rating: G

Whump count: canon-typical violence, arrow wound, blood, description of injury, panic attack, stitches, needle phobia

Word count: 3000

Summary: Legend needs stitches, but the operation is not going to be as easy as Warriors thought.

AO3

Reblogs > Likes!

Arrows whistled through the air, soaring just above Warriors’ head as he decimated ranks of monsters. Only three of his brothers were fighting alongside him, but they were all putting up a strong effort. Four was behind them, sniping Bokoblin archers with his own bow. Legend and Hyrule stood back to back, slashing just as viciously and efficiently as the captain himself. Warriors danced across the battlefield, crossing blades with a snarling Lizalfos. He heard a cry of pain, too horribly Hylian, and quickly finished the lizard off before twirling around to locate his injured teammate.

Legend staggered in place, hand flying to a wooden shaft jutting from his shoulder. Hyrule shouted something and raised his shield to protect the veteran, not noticing another Lizalfos lashing out with a mace-like tail. The Lizalfos struck Hyrule in the stomach and knocked him to the edge of the battlefield, where he struggled to sit up.

Warriors attempted to force his way over to Legend, who managed to protect himself even with an arrow in his arm. Monsters swarmed the captain, who became less and less sure that he could make it before the veteran ran out of strength.

“Wars, look out!”

He turned to see a fireball bouncing towards him, and leaped out of the way so it could ignite a squealing Bokoblin instead. He saw Hyrule give him a shaky smile, sword glowing with magic. More flaming orbs streaked across the clearing, doing the heroes’ work for them.

“Nice work, Rule!” Warriors called back, and quickly killed the last of the monsters. He ran to Legend, passing Four as the smith went to cover Hyrule.

Legend was breathing hard as Warriors approached, sword still in the vet’s hand as he felt around the arrow with the other. He dropped the blade on the grass beside his shield, allowing Warriors to examine the wound. The captain assessed it with only his eyes, not willing to jostle the arrowhead deeper into Legend’s arm. It had entered from behind; Legend must have barely been able to see the shaft out of the corner of his eye. Warriors lightly tapped Legend’s arm as he took a step to the side, observing from a different angle. They both let out a hiss, Legend in pain and Warriors in dismay.

“You know how you’re supposed to push it through and out the other side?” Warriors asked.

“Of course, you think this is the first time I’ve been shot by a dumb archer?” Legend spat back.

“Well, I’ve got bad news. If I try to push it through, I’ll most likely hit bone. I’m going to have to pull it out and you’re going to heal fast. Do you have any potions or fairies?”

“Yeah, hang on.” With his healthy arm, Legend awkwardly reached into his adventure pouch and pulled out a glowing pink bottle.

“Warriors, Legend! Hyrule’s hurt, do you guys have anything?” Four yelled from where he was kneeling beside the traveler.

Legend glanced down at the fairy, fluttering and ready to heal whoever needed it. “Calm down, Cap, I have another in my bag. Pull the arrow out and give this to Rule. And hurry.”

It wasn’t the best plan but Warriors had no time to argue. He slipped the sky-blue cap from Legend’s head- ignoring the teen’s indignant yelp- and handed it to him, saying, “Bite on this.”

Legend grumbled, folding the hat into a tight square and stuffing it in his mouth. Warriors closed his hand around the arrow shaft and waited for Legend to brace himself.

“Ready? One, two-”

Warriors pulled back, and the arrowhead tore through muscle and flesh before it emerged in a bloody mess. Legend’s sharp moan was muffled by the fabric clenched between his teeth.

“It’s out. Get it fixed up. I’ll bring the fairy to Rule.” Warriors assured him, taking the bottle. He made sure that Legend was searching through his bag, then jogged over to Hyrule and Four.

“Oh thank the goddesses, you found a fairy! He can barely breathe, I think he broke some ribs,” Four said.

Warriors uncorked the bottle and guided the fairy to his injured brother, sitting back and letting her heal him. She swirled above Hyrule’s chest, showering pink dust until the boy gasped and gave himself a sudden coughing fit.

“Take it easy, bud,” Warriors said as he helped Hyrule sit up.

“Wh-where’s Legend? Is he okay?” Hyrule rasped, looking around for the other.

“The arrow’s out and he’s healing it now, don’t worry. We should regroup and figure out what to do next.”

He led the younger heroes to where Legend was now sitting, the contents of his bag strewn around him. The veteran’s shoulder was obviously still bleeding, and he was pressing a bandage to the wound with an unsteady hand.

“What are you doing, vet? I told you to find a potion or fairy, you’re going to bleed out at this rate,” Warriors snapped.

“I was wrong,” Legend said with a scowl. “The fairy I gave to Rule was my last one. And I’m all out of potions too. I’ll just wrap it up until we find the others, or a fairy fountain, or a town.”

Warriors groaned. Why did these young heroes have to be so impulsive? “That’s not going to work. I know you can’t really see it, but the arrow left a bigger hole than you think. If we don’t get your arm closed up, you’ll pass out before we reach help.”

Legend started to repack his bag, scooping various weapons and tools from the ground. “And how do you figure we can do that? I can still walk fine-”

“For now.”

“-so I don’t get why we’re sitting around wasting time. Unless one of you is hiding an extra healing item?”

Four peeked into his own bag. “No…” Suddenly he perked up and pulled out a small box. “But I have my sewing kit!”

Legend froze, then shook himself and continued packing. His movements were notably much more aggressive and stiff than they had been before Four spoke. “No. Absolutely not. Nope. Not doing it.”

Warriors sighed and nodded to Four, who looked for a suitable place to set up. “Come on, Lege, we can’t afford to wait.”

“Watch me. I’m going, and that’s final.” Legend stood, and Warriors and Hyrule stepped to block his path.

“Legend, come on,” Hyrule tried. “Just let Four stitch you up and-”

“No!” Legend’s foot slid back, the wings on his boots fluttering dangerously.

“Don’t you dare-” Warriors didn’t finish his warning before Legend suddenly bolted, aiming between Warriors and Hyrule. The captain flung his arm out, managing to catch the veteran around the middle and stop him in his tracks. Warriors lifted Legend slightly off the ground, careful not to touch his shoulder, and waited for the magic of the Pegasus Boots to fade. Legend screeched, flailing in Warriors’ strong grip.

“Don’t be rash, vet,” Warriors reprimanded, glancing back to make sure that the other was still keeping pressure on the wound. “I don’t want to hurt you any further. Please stop fighting so we can get you patched up.”

“Okay, I will, just put me down!” Legend’s voice was laced with uncharacteristic panic, and Warriors quickly lowered him down and looked him over. Still bleeding, but stable for now. The blood loss and pain didn’t seem to be affecting him yet, so why did he seem scared?

Hyrule took a cautious step forward. “Please, Lege, just let us help. I know you’re usually stubborn about using up supplies, but I promise this won’t be a waste. We need to close your shoulder now, and you’re only making it worse.”

“I- I know. Trust me, I… realize that I’m being stupid. But I. Um.” Legend’s gaze was aimed directly at the ground, and he shuddered as he forced himself to confess. “I don’t handle n-needles well. At all.”

That… explains a lot.

Warriors should have recognized the signs sooner. He had dealt with many soldiers who could run into battle and take countless near-fatal enemy hits, but broke down at the mere mention of post-battle stitches. He didn’t pretend to understand how one could be afraid of a needle but not a sword. A good captain, however, didn’t judge his men by their limits. He immediately prepared to switch tactics, knowing that Legend was in desperate need of support, not scolding.

“I’m sorry, Lege. I hadn’t realized, and I’m afraid that I may have been too callous in my haste to get you treated.”

Legend looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Too late, Warriors registered that he may have inadvertently started to give Legend false hope. “However, you still need stitches. Let’s go see if Four is ready.” His tone was kind, but hinted at unwavering authority.

Legend quickly shook his head, clearly trying to think of an excuse to delay further, buy time he didn’t have. Hyrule took the opportunity to close the distance and grab Legend’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “It’s okay, Lege. I trust Four to be as fast as possible, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but-”

“No ‘but’. Don’t focus on that, just me and Rule.” Warriors set a grounding hand on Legend’s back with the intention to guide him to where Four was waiting.

Legend refused to walk himself, digging his heels into the dirt and forcing Warriors to push him while Hyrule tugged his hand. The vet began to mutter as they got closer to Four, pressing the bandage tighter against his wound.

“No no please there has to be another way are you sure there isn’t a fountain or a town or something-”

Four looked up as they came within earshot, instantly noticing Legend’s agitation. “Uh, the blood loss didn’t get to him yet, right?”

Warriors glanced at Legend’s shoulder. The bandage was soaked through with blood, but not enough to indicate immediate symptoms of extreme blood loss.

“Not yet,” the captain confirmed. “But he won’t be able to hold out until we reach safety, even though he would rather wait for another option.”

“Don’t worry, Lege,” Four said, unraveling a length of thread. “I’ve done this plenty of times. You’re in capable hands.”

“I know, smith, and I’m grateful for your skill. But Legend is-”

Four chose that moment to take out a small needle and sterilize it, and Warriors’ next words were drowned out by Legend’s sudden yell.

“I told you, I’m not doing this!” Legend slipped past Warriors’ hold and attempted to escape once again, but Hyrule managed to keep his grip on Legend’s hand. The veteran cried out as his injured shoulder was tugged between his own momentum and the traveler’s unyielding grasp.

“Legend is afraid of needles,” Warriors finished.

Four nodded, watching as Hyrule pulled Legend into an unavoidable embrace. “You don’t say.”

Legend didn’t resist Hyrule’s hug, returning it as best as he could without taking pressure off of his wound. Hyrule held Legend close, carefully positioning them so Legend couldn’t see Four’s makeshift medical supplies. Hyrule murmured reassurances in Legend’s ear and sent a secret, questioning look to Four.

The smith held up a finger in a sign to wait and quietly addressed Warriors. “This may not be easy for any of us. Do you know how to handle him?”

“I’ll try to calm him down with words… Rule can manage touch since he’s more comfortable with it. I won’t lie to him and I’ll ask how much he wants to hear. Judging by his reaction, we can’t let him see the needle. And avoid physical restraint at all costs. One of us will end up more hurt… and I just recently gained the kid’s trust, I can’t lose it again,” Warriors listed, counting on his fingers.

Four nodded again. “Impressive.”

“I’m no medic, but I’ve seen too many men have their fears invalidated. I won’t let that happen to my own brother.”

“He certainly won’t say it now, but I know he’s grateful for your effort,” Four said with a strained smile.

“I sure hope so,” Warriors sighed. “Delay isn’t good for him physically or mentally. Are you ready?”

“Yes. And don’t worry, I know how to keep calm under stress. I’ll make these stitches clean and fast as possible.”

“Thank you, Four. Now let’s get this over with.” Raising his voice, Warriors called to the others. “Hyrule? Come sit, please.”

Legend found himself seated with his back to Four, Hyrule at his side and Warriors kneeling in front of him. Warriors could see that Legend was shaking in Hyrule’s arms. Hyrule had to repeatedly hold Legend back from twisting around to see what Four was doing.

Why is he actively trying to make it worse for himself? Warriors thought, then blinked the distraction away. If Legend wanted to know what was happening, there were easier methods than letting him see the needle.

“Legend,” he said, and waited for the vet to look at him. “Do you want me to tell you what Four is doing?”

Legend closed his eyes, thinking. He shook his head with a small whimper. “I- I can already see it-” He shuddered, and Warriors did as well, knowing the images that must have been running through the teen’s head.

“Hey, that’s okay.” Legend looked back at Warriors, and the captain gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile before continuing. “You don’t have to focus on that. I can help you think about other things, and Hyrule will stay by your side the whole time. All right?”

“I’m going to remove the bandage and clean the wound now,” Four announced, and gently pulled Legend’s hand away from his shoulder. His expression remained composed as he assessed the damage, his voice even as he said, “Hyrule, can you hand him his hat, please?”

Hyrule winced, able to guess the reason behind Four’s request. He offered the hat to Legend, who stubbornly pushed it away.

“No, wait-”

“We don’t have time to wait,” Warriors said, eyeing the slow but steady flow of blood dripping down Legend’s arm.

Legend still refused to take the hat. “You can’t,” he protested, desperation taking over. “I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Hyrule asked.

Warriors fidgeted and noticed that Four was soaking a clean cloth with disinfectant. Your time’s running out, whether you like it or not. Please let us help you at least be ready for it.

“I can’t do this-!” Legend said, right before Four pressed the alcohol-soaked cloth to the wound. Legend yelled, unprepared for the sudden sting, and Hyrule’s hug grew a little tighter as Legend instinctively flinched away.

“You can do this, Lege,” Warriors said. “I know you’re strong enough to make it through this.”

“No, you don’t understand, I can’t, I can’t.” Legend turned pleading eyes to Hyrule. “Please, Roolie, please, there has to be something else, anything…”

Hyrule simply squeezed Legend’s hand. “This is the best we can do. Please just take the hat so you don’t hurt yourself more.”

Warriors could see it in Legend’s eyes, the moment he realized that he wasn’t going to win this fight. The moment resolve crumbled and gave way to resignation. Slowly, his hand shaking, Legend accepted his sky-blue bite guard once more.

“Legend.” Warriors kept his tone gentle, knowing that anything could activate the teen’s flight instinct. “We need you to keep very still until Four’s done, okay?”

Legend looked up, eyes shining with tears and betrayal.

And oh, didn’t that hurt to see on the face of his own brother.

“You can be angry at me if you want,” Warriors said, just to see that vulnerability harden to something that was easier, more familiar. “All you have to do is stay still and breathe while Rule and I help you through it, all right?”

“Yes, breathing is good,” Hyrule agreed. “Here, follow my lead…”

Assured that Legend hopefully wouldn’t start hyperventilating in the middle of the operation, Warriors determined that they had prepared as much as they could. “Whenever you’re ready, Four.”

Legend made no effort to hide his distress, a strangled wail rising as Four made the first stitch, then the next. Warriors could tell that the vet was struggling to keep his breathing in time with Hyrule’s, but he was holding out so far.

“You’re doing great, Legend,” Warriors said. “Say, have I ever told you about the time-travelling soldiers I fought alongside in the war? I recognized all sorts of names from the history books. Darunia, Agitha, Ravio…”

Legend hiccuped, his cries fading to a steady whine so he could hear Warriors better.

There you go, focus on my voice.

“Yes, I knew Ravio back then, and he was quite the character. Always hoarding valuable supplies to resell, and he wielded this gigantic orange hammer…”

Warriors continued to talk while Four carefully completed the stitches. The vet wasn’t the most attentive audience, but Warriors could tell that his words were a good distraction from the pain of the needle.

What must have seemed like an eternity later to Legend, but was in reality only a few minutes, Four finished the stitches and tied off the thread. The vet had worn himself down to quiet sobs, and didn’t even seem to register that Four was done.

“The worst part’s over, you made it through,” Hyrule said as Four wrapped a clean bandage around Legend’s shoulder. Legend suddenly slumped forward, and Hyrule caught him before he could fall to the ground.

“What happened?” Four asked, looking up from where he was cleaning his supplies.

“I think he passed out,” Hyrule said. “Wars, is that normal?”

Warriors gently took the unconscious teen’s wrist. “His pulse is steady. He’s just exhausted from everything. We should let him rest, he’ll wake up when he’s ready.” He reached up and eased Legend’s hat from his slack jaw.

Ugh, that definitely needs to be washed before he can wear it again.

“For the record, I hope we never have to do that again,” Hyrule said, and Four nodded in agreement.

“I know, and I hope so too. I’m proud of you both for keeping calm. This could have easily gone a lot worse,” Warriors said. He silently offered to take Legend, and carried him as they set off to find the others.

Legend was finally safe, and Warriors hoped that the vet would forgive them.

[thegirlwhosimpstoomuch]

Celestial Bonds

Part 1 - Nice moves

In the heart of Camp Half-Blood, where demigods trained and forged friendships, a unique connection blossomed under the watchful eyes of the gods. You, a child of a minor deity, had always felt a bit out of place among the more well-known godly offspring. However, that changed the day you met Jason Grace, the son of Jupiter.

It all started during a routine training session. You were diligently honing your skills with a celestial weapon bestowed upon you by your divine parent. The sunlight glinted off the polished metal, catching Jason's attention. He had been practicing with his own weapon nearby, and the rhythmic sound of clashing blades drew him closer to you.

"Nice moves," he complimented, a warm smile gracing his features.

Blushing slightly, you nodded your thanks. Little did you know, that simple exchange marked the beginning of a celestial bond that would grow stronger with each passing day.

As the weeks went by, you and Jason found yourselves drawn to each other. Whether it was sparring in the arena, strategizing during capture the flag, or simply sharing stories by the campfire, a connection deeper than friendship began to spark. It was as if the gods themselves were weaving a thread that tied your fates together.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars started to twinkle, you and Jason found yourselves alone on Half-Blood Hill. The air crackled with a sense of anticipation, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of electricity in the atmosphere.

"Y/N," Jason began, his blue eyes locking onto yours, "there's something about you. Something special."

Your heart raced as you looked into his eyes, feeling the truth in his words. Before you could respond, a celestial glow enveloped the two of you, and the presence of divine energy became palpable.

Above you, the night sky seemed to open up, revealing a tapestry of constellations that glittered in recognition of the bond forming between a child of a minor deity and a son of Jupiter. It was a celestial bond, woven by fate and strengthened by the shared experiences of demigod life.

Little did you know, this was only the beginning of a tale that would unfold with challenges, adventures, and a love that transcended mortal and divine boundaries. The celestial bonds between you and Jason Grace were destined to shape the course of your demigod journey in ways neither of you could have imagined.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Hello hoomans ‧₊˚ ⋅

New story ‧₊˚ ⋅

My first story ‧₊˚ ⋅

Hope u like eet ‧₊˚ ⋅

Btw part 2s here(and yes I figured out how to do that linky thingy)

[sleepytimemoga-p2]

Threaded

Ships: Paulie Lombardo/Original Character

Cw: Racism mention

The sun and moon joined together and bore into her like watchful eyes of Gods she never knew existed, her past, future, and the stars between congregated on a peach sky only sunset could offer. Ruth didn’t move from where she laid but stared back at the cosmic forces that came to judge her, her body laying in the marble warmth of a water fountain. What would it all mean in the end? What would bring peace? She decided that it wouldn’t truly matter in the end and that was what truly was peace. A shadow loomed over her and drew her attention away from the heavens, a visage of a man obscured by shadows and a figure that imposed. He sat at the edge of the fountain and reached into the clear waters, scared fingers tracing her arm and then the small of her back, pulling her towards him. 

“Who are…?” Her mind whispered but her lips could never speak, she lifted her hand to touch him.

Ruth sighed and shook the reoccurring dream she’s been having since she’s moved to Lost Heaven out of her head with the promise that if she had that dream again, she’d call her grandmother about it. Especially if it involved a man. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath before she went back to sewing the last bit of sequins into a dress she had on display. The cold radiating from the window made the skin on her arm prickle, the gray world outside was something she wasn’t quite used to yet.

“Woah.” A set of pale eyes peered at her and her works through the display, making her want to slink back behind the curtains and run to the back where it’s safe but she instead kept sewing, just listening. “Imagine dancin’ in that Mary!” 

“That?” Her friend tucked herself into her coat. “I heard that store mainly caters to call girls Betty.”

“Wouldn’t that be fine? Would piss your father off.” She huffed.

“I mean you could still buy a dress, I know how you like your eggs brown.” Mary smirked and Betty was suddenly flustered, running to join her friend’s side.

“It was only one time!” She whined as they finally left.

Ruth rolled her eyes and cut a thread, disappearing behind the curtains. That was another thing she was getting used to moving from the south, how subtle the prejudice was. Everything was thinly veiled and wrapped with a bow, compliments on how she spoke or looked, how she must love how “different” things were. She knew what they met by tone alone and it honestly made her want to laugh. Deep down she just wished some of them would own it. But as long as she wasn’t getting hurt, all she’d do was laugh about it over the phone later. For now it was time for work.

Her orders were all bright, vibrant, and covered in sequins. Unlike the dying world outside, her dresses were blooming with life. The woman from the window was technically right about a good chunk of her clients being prostitutes but there were also dancers and artists. She thought of them as strong women, chasing the dream of independence and exploration, women she admired and related to. But she did have to do something about her customers spreading a silly rumor, saying that she’s a love witch from the bayou who sews spells into her dresses. “Money and men would always follow if you wear Madame Moss’s dresses!”

If that were true, where the hell was her rich husband? 

Hell not even a husband, just someone to fool around with would be nice too. It feels like her bed’s getting colder each day and she wasn’t just talking about the winter weather. She sat at her table in thought.

“What I’m sayin’ Paulie is that we shoulda just gave her the money.” A heavy accent mixed in with the chime of her door’s bell, making her perk up, standing to greet the men entering her store. It wasn’t the first time she’s seen a man come in to pay for a girl’s dress. 

“Aw come on! Ain’t it nice to see where your girl gets all dolled up?” The other man chimed in. 

“You Ms.Moss?” A lean man with beady blue eyes bore into her, his suit was simple but she could easily compare him to the weather outside. The other man who she assumed was Paulie, was busy standing at the door but stealing glances at the two. 

“That would be me.” She gave a friendly smile despite the tense atmosphere. “How may I help you today?” 

“Here to pay for Felicia Russo’s dress. How much do I owe ya?” 

Of all the dresses she’s done in the past week, she could remember Ms.Russo’s dress. Felicia was a gaunt woman and had a love for all things Egyptian royalty, wanted her dress that was black with golden sequins that resembled a pyramid. Ruth was so in love with the idea that she’s been losing sleep just to work on it and it was almost done.

“Eleven dollars.” Her eyes twinkled, glad her hard work was paying off.

He pulled a wad of cash from his breast pocket and counted it, setting the money on the counter instead of her open hand. He glowered and turned to his friend. 

“Come on Paulie.” 

Paulie turned to his friend and her eyes gleamed at the sight of his tie but also at his suit. 

“Sir!” She almost jumped over her table, which made both men visibly tense. “I’m so sorry but I just wanted a better look at your tie!” 

Both men gave her inquisitive looks as she stared, studying the patterns of his maroon tie. 

“Whoever made it did a beautiful job. You have great taste.” 

“Thanks..” Paulie blinked at her, still in shock at the sudden forwardness. “Guess I do.” 

“Yeah whatever, we gotta go!” The thin man grabbed Paulie by the shoulder and he nodded to her as he followed him out the door.

Why did things feel familiar?

[whitchygaythem]

Heroes and Villains

*BOOM*

A huge boom shook the city, causing civilians to cry out and fall to the ground. Talia snapped to attention, eyes shooting to her phone as it let out a positive little *ding!* noise.

*TYPE 4 VILLAIN ALERT, GET TO SAFETY. TYPE 4 VILLAIN IN THE UPTOWN DISTRICT. GET TO SAFETY." 

Talia smiled as she ran to the bathroom to change into her "work clothes". A tight, white bodysuit made from a durable material from her home planet with flowing blue, gray and silver accents. She clipped on her sky blue cape, and she was ready. Talia stepped into the bathroom, but Sky Queen, protector of Earth and hero of planet Galiler, stepped out. She rushed to the roof of the cafe, jumping off and taking flight. There was only one type 4 villain who consistently attacked uptown. All the other type 4s were off trying to conquer North America or control the government from the shadows. Gargantuan was always a nice change of pace, being a problem Talia could just punch. She soared over the city, speeding up when she heard crashing footsteps and maniacal laughter.

Sky Queen was right. Gargantuan was trying to run away with a handful of gold artifacts from the history museum. She had taken every last bit in the place from where Sky queen could see. Gargantuan had even taken the gold crown, and threaded it through her huge nose ring. It hung there, as Gargantuan ran through Main street, black fluffy hair bouncing in a short ponytail, as she trampled streetlights and abandoned cars under foot.

"Gargantuan! Stop this!" Sky Queen flew right in front of Gargantuan's face and she skidded to a halt in front of her. 

"Sky Queen, my nemesis! You should know by now that I will never listen to you!" She used her free hand to swat at Sky Queen.

"But you did stop, for your heart is not truly evil!" Sky Queen flew around Gargantuan's body, snatching artifacts from her giant palm, one by one.

"My heart is like the night, Miss Sky, dark and everlasting!"

Sky Queen flew towards the gold once again, but Gargantuan yanked her hand away, using her free hand to slap Sky Queen into a building. 

"Even night has moon light!"

Gargantuan grabbed Sky Queen, tightening her fist.

"Well then maybe my heart is like a new moon!"

Sky Queen burst out of the giant villain's fist and shot towards her unguarded hand. She snatched the gold up in her arms, dropping it off on a roof with the rest of it. 

"Even the new moon lets stars shine!" 

Sky Queen flew down, grabbing the back of Gargantuan's ankle and pushing. Gargantuan yelped, flailing for balance. 

"Ack, hey no fair! Wait a sec I almost got somethin-" Sky Queen flew up to Gargantuan's face, grabbing the nose ring that held the crown, and punching Gargantuan. Hard. She fell, shrinking as she went down, until she wasn't, well, gargantuan anymore. Only then did Sky Queen look down and realize she still had the nose ring in her hand, one side holding the crown, the other dripping with blood.

"Shitt she's gonna hate mee" she groaned as she heard the *WHOOP WHOOP* of police officers. She gathered all the stolen gold and took the crown off the nose ring, and returned them to the officers, as they thanked her and promised 

"She'll be gone for a long long time, thanks to you Sky Queen!"

"All in a days work!" She told them cheerily as she jetted off, then doubling back because she left the nose ring on the roof.

Talia sighed as she dried her bushy blonde hair with a towel. She had gotten way more bruises than last time. She glanced at the nose ring the size of a hula hoop and groaned. 

"Wow Queenie, I didn't think you were the type to keep trophies." 

Gargantuan had broken in, and was standing behind Talia's kitchen counter, her nose still covered in crusted blood around a straight cut through her nostril. In her current form, she was a full head shorter than Talia. Talia rushed at her.

"Oh my gods, Bea I'm so sorry!" She wrapped the smaller woman in a tight hug. "I got too into it again…" Bea did her best to pat Talia on the back, even though her arms were pinned to her sides by Talia's super-powered hug. 

"Girl, it's fine, I know the feeling. Remember that time I broke your ankle?" 

Talia giggled, resting her face in Bea's soft hair. "The costume looked so weird with the wrappings under it."  Bea chuckled and managed to free one arm and returned the hug.

"It's easy to go overboard with this stuff when you're fighting someone you don't think you can hurt. The best we can do is stitch each other up afterwards." Bea pushed out of the hug and leapt onto Talia's gray couch, flipping around to face her with a goofy smirk on her face.

"Speaking of stitches, I think it's time you helped me out Queenie" Talia rolled her eyes, still smiling. She walked over to the small bathroom 

"I wish I never picked that name, it's so… dorky." She grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet and sat next to Bea. 

"Aww, cut yourself some slack Tals, you picked it," she leaned back, thinking and counting, "like ten years ago. Thirteen year olds are dorky. It's just a fact of life." Bea flopped onto Talia's lap with a flourish.

"Except for me, of course. I was cool." 

"Girl, sit up, I gotta stitch you up remember?" Bea obliged, sitting up and facing Talia, her legs still splayed over the couch and Talia's lap. Talia placed one hand on Bea's cheek and readied the needle. 

"Squeeze my leg if it hurts too much, ok?"

Bea nodded. 

Stitch one. Bea hissed quickly but stayed still.

Stitch two. Talia tilted Bea's face back towards her after she had jerked away from Talia. 

"This is the last stitch ok? We can do whatever you want after we take them out, promise." 

Bea nodded. "Can we cuddle?"

"Of course. Get ready." 

Stitch 3. Bea grunted and tightened her grip on Talia's knee.

"Ok, done with the worst part." Talia reached back into the first aid kit and retrieved a dimly glowing neon green bottle. She soaked a cotton ball with it and rubbed it over Bea's stitches. Her nose began to mend itself, the two pieces of flesh held together by the stitches, melding and repairing until all that was left was the stitches and a brand new scar. After she removed the stitches, Bea's nose looked fine. You wouldn't even know that one side had been ripped apart. Bea sniffed, lightly touching the new scar. She smiled.

"Nice. Do I look scarier? Tougher? More rugged?" 

Talia shrugged. "I can't really see it," she gestured to the green liquid. "This stuff is pretty potent." 

Bea whined and flopped back down onto the couch.

"But I want to look scaryyyy! How can I do that without badass scars?"

"I think you look plenty scary." She ruffled Bea's hair. "Are you ready?" 

Bea perked up. She closed her eyes, and exhaled. As she did, her body shrunk, until she was sitting comfortably in Talia's palm. Bea moved quickly, scuttling up Talia's arm to stand on her shoulder. Talia turned her head to Bea, who was grinning and giggling softly as she pushed at Talia's lips.

"Lemme in lemme in lemme in!"

Talia huffed at her but opened her mouth anyway. Bea fell into her maw, fitting perfectly on Talia's tongue. Bursts of sweetness danced wherever Bea's skin met Talia's taste buds, and she couldn't resist shutting her mouth and licking Bea, pressing her into her cheek. Bea never stopped moving, always squirming and pushing back at Talia's tongue playfully. Soon, Talia felt Bea inching towards the back of her throat and took it as a sign to "finish up". She licked Bea one last time before thickly swallowing her wiggly friend. She flopped back on the couch and sighed. She felt a weight land in her gut and placed a hand over her belly and rubbed. She closed her eyes and smiled as she felt Bea rub back. She began to nod off, comforted by the near constant movement in her belly. 

[afleshboy]

We Will Leave Just as We Came

A moment between friends when one has been dead for ten years and the other is hanging on by a thread.

Heavily inspired by this. If I'm not thinking about this every day, assume something is wrong with me. I know it's referencing further into the future but I'm not there yet.

Re Zoro vs Zolo, I mainly read the manga and in my brain he was born with the given name Zolo and so everyone that knew him as a kid refers to him as such. When he got out and started like bounty hunting and what have you it switched to Zoro for reasons and he honestly does not care which one is used.

Title taken here.

__________________________________________________

When Zoro woke up, he noticed the petals of the flowers first. There was one hanging lazily over his field of vision. The dark blue of the flower somehow contrasted against the light blue of the sky above him.

He laid there for a moment, getting his bearings.

It was warm, but not uncomfortably so, and there was even a light breeze that caused the flower to shift sideways before going back to its original position.

Where was he?

He sat up.

Before him was a field of the same dark blue flowers, every so often a smattering of other colors, maybe different patches of them if he could see beyond the one that he was currently in.

It was peaceful, and he found that there was less weight on his shoulders than usual. It was nice.

Then he sensed something, no, someone behind him. And he knew who it was before she even sat down next to him.

She hadn’t aged past eleven, though he guessed she had no reason to. There was no way of knowing what she would have looked like if she had gotten any older but those same dark eyes never changed. In fact, they almost seemed wiser.

“Kuina.” And god if it didn’t sound like someone had punched him in the stomach when he said it from how strangled her name was. He was almost embarrassed, especially when she raised an eyebrow at him. He didn't know how to tell her that he hadn't used her name since she died.

Wait. Had he really not said her name since she died?

“What are you doing here, Zolo?”

His eyes snapped back to her at the question. She seemed much more content in this field of flowers than he was, his fingers looking for something to play with when he realized that he didn’t have any of his swords. He didn’t have their sword. There was something to be said about material items in the afterlife but there was still an ache that formed at the loss.

“Zolo.”

Right. He should answer her.

“Well, I guess I died.” Zoro probably shouldn’t sound as sarcastic as he did but there was a little laugh next to him so he was doing alright.

“Not yet.” She said, not caring how annoyingly mysterious that was.

“What do you mean not yet? I’m here, you’re here and-” And he suddenly remembered how he got here.

His skin stung as he remembered the cuts that had appeared on him almost magically, like he had been fighting someone who wasn’t there. Each slice dug into him, some of them he swore went to the bone.

That was nothing compared to the absolute ache of his muscles. Some of them he could tell ached from overuse and others from the absolute beat down that he had never received. It did compound his already battered body from his own fights.

The worst were the cracks. The feeling of his bones splintering from nothing. He didn’t know how many ribs a person had but he was pretty sure every single one had snapped and cracked until standing had been a struggle.

Zoro didn’t remember how the blood had gotten everywhere, he could see it in his mind. When he had come back to his senses not only was he covered in it, a haphazard circle around him was too. It looked like enough blood to kill three men, but as he felt his legs buckle he knew it was all his.

He didn’t remember moving to cause this odd pattern. Or what exactly had come first or if it all came at one. He did remember the pain and screaming until his throat was raw. Then he kept going.

“You’d do a lot for him.” Kuina’s voice made it clear it wasn’t a question. She was right though, as the image of Luffy popped into his head. He didn’t want to die, but he couldn’t see it happen to him.

“Yeah, I guess I would.” And despite it, even as his body ached with phantom pain, he laughed. “He’s gonna be king of the pirates you know?”

And that seemed to break her calm facade for a moment. She looked annoyed as she rolled her eyes and it caused Zoro to snicker. “What does that even mean? And what does that have to do with you?”

He had an idea of what that title meant before. He had been a pirate hunter after all, and he heard a lot of them talk about the idea of being king. None of them were like Luffy. None of them made him want to see a world where that came true. None of them made him want to fight with all the strength in him to make sure it came true. At least the second question was easy.

“I don’t know but I think even if I did, Luffy would find a way to surprise me.”

She huffed.

"And why wouldn't the king of the pirates have the world's greatest swordsman by his side? He should only have the best."

Well. He had the best.

They sat in silence for a while, Zoro leaning back on his hands as the sun beamed down on them. Every so often that breeze would come by causing the whole field to flutter into life before it went still again.

He wondered if this was it, just this field for the rest of… Whatever this was. It felt like it should be boring but the absolute peace he felt kept him from following that thought too deeply.

“So. What did you mean by ‘not yet’?” He didn’t really know what this was supposed to be if he wasn’t dead. Though that did cause a sting in his chest he didn’t want to think about just yet. He hadn’t gotten to be the world’s greatest swordsman, he had failed himself and her. Even through the shame he knew he wouldn’t have changed what he did.

Kuina tilted her head at him, which he ignored for now in favor of looking off in the distance at some yellow flowers. Sunflowers?

“You still have a chance.” She said finally, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “You can still go back, if you’re strong enough.”

If he was strong enough? Even as he thought that, he felt the heaviness in his limbs. Like something was dragging him down to the ground and the pain that had been an ache was now sharper.

Right. If he was strong enough to leave.

He would have to live with that pain until he got better, and he would have to be okay with the knowledge that he was leaving behind this heaven where he was pain free. That he was leaving behind her again.

Zoro remembered the look on Sanji’s face when he had come to find him. The anger and shock that gave way to fear that he knew was mirrored on his own face at the time. He would do it again, he would die for any of them in a heartbeat. Still.

He hadn’t wanted to die. He still doesn’t. He had things he needed to finish, promises to fulfill.

He needed to protect his friends.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

She scoffed. “Just be sure you don’t lose like you did to me.”

As they spoke, the ache in his bones got stronger. He was starting to feel the trickle of something on his chest and head. He knew it had to be blood, he could smell the metallic tang. He was fighting to go back.

“Kuina.” He looked at her, glad when her eyes found his as well. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted to apologize for. That she was still remembered after all this time.

Everything he thought he would say, wanted to say, to her died in his throat. A small voice told him he’d have time later, to tell her everything. That he would have even more stories to share.

Her small arms wrapped around his torso, not even able to clasp her hands at his back like she likely would have done when they were kids. If they had ever hugged. Zoro scooped her up, hugging her back with all the strength he could as it was becoming increasingly clear he didn’t have that much to give as he got closer and closer to going back.

The flowers were disappearing around them, until all that was left was Zoro and Kuina. The hug felt as firm and real as when he got the rare ones from the crew (barring Luffy who threw himself at him whenever he could). He still had a promise to her to fulfill, a promise to himself, and a promise to everyone onboard the Sunny.

She knew this, even if she would miss him. “I still haven’t heard of you up here. Work harder, idiot.”

The last thing Zoro heard before he woke up to a hovering Chopper was his own laugh being carried away in the wind.

[invisibleraven]

Phantom Carols

For the @jatp-adventevent prompt of cute head canons for your OTP at Christmastime

Day Four: My True Love Gave To Me<-AO3!

When the three of them first get together, and it grows closer to December, Luke asks the inevitable question; “What do you guys want for Christmas?”

Julie hums for a moment, “A nice night out at a restaurant would be lovely. Or maybe the new Taylor album. I'm guessing you want a new song book?"

"Or guitar stuff, yeah," Luke admitted with a shrug. "What about you Reg?"

"Oh, I'm good," Reggie demurred. "I don't celebrate Christmas, so…"

"You don't celebrate Christmas?" asked Julie, "Are your parents Jehovah or something?"

"Jewish."

"Oh, well do you want something for Channukah then?" Luke asked.

"It's not really a gift giving holiday," Reggie clarified. At least, it hadn't been for him, not since living with MeeMaw and Pops. "I'm happy enough to do Christmas with you guys though, you might just need to show me the ropes."

So they did. Julie introduced him to all her favourite specials, and Reggie fell in love with the Muppets. He delighted in baking all the cookies that Julie learned from her abuela and Luke knew from his mom. Though he did also get to share some of MeeMaw's recipes, and they both were singing her praises after tasting her cookies.

On Christmas Eve, Luke shared something his family did-opening one present each. They decided to open their presents from each other, since they were spending the next day with their families. Even if Reggie was mostly going to be avoiding his, given his parents propensity for fighting when stuck in the house together for extended periods.

Luke received a new songbook from Julie, a leatherbound one with actual staves to write music down, with his initials embossed on the corner. Reggie got him a giant pack of picks and a new strap, a blue one that went from deep navy to the lightest colour of the sky, edged in silver thread. Plus a selection of good pens, in a multitude of colours. “So you can write our parts without scrawling our names on the sides,” Reggie explained.

“These are perfect, thanks babes,” Luke said, his fingers twitching like he had the urge to write them an ode right then and there, but a calming touch from Julie made him stop, though Reggie had no doubt there would be at least one or two songs written just for them before Christmas morning dawned.

Julie smiled wide when Luke gifted her the new Taylor Swift album, as requested, but shrieked when Reggie handed her the accompanying gift from the both of them; rockets to see her concert when it came to LA in March. “We can go to a nice place for food beforehand too,” he said with a smile.

Julie enveloped them both in a hug, raining kisses down on their faces, perfuse thanks falling from her lips. Neither of the guys were big Swifties, but they were more than willing to endure her concert for Julie, just like she would do for them once Green Day had their next show.

“Your turn Reggie,” Luke said, handing him two packages wrapped in Star Wars themed paper.

“You two didn’t have to get me anything,” Reggie said, ready to push the presents back, but Julie stilled his hands.

“It’s your first Christmas cariño, of course you get a present,” she assured him. “We love you, it’s no trouble to remind you with small little gifts on holidays, okay?”

Reggie sniffled, swiping at his eyes before offering them both a watery grin. Slowly he peeled back the tape on the first gift, and crowed with delight when he saw it was a vinyl of Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers singing Christmas songs. “I know you love her,” Luke explained. “Seemed like this might be right up your alley, even if you don’t celebrate, you can enjoy the music.”

“You gonna listen to it with me?” Reggie asked with a smirk.

“If I must,” Luke said with a smile, Julie elbowing him and insisting that yes, he must.

Julie’s gift to him was his own songbook, a mirror to Luke’s, the leather more red tinged, his initials in the corner. “For your next country hit,” she remarked, then handed him a set of pens, one of which was purple. “For the fiddle parts.”

Reggie looked up at her at that. “You’re really gonna learn? For me?”

“I already am,” Julie admitted. “Mrs. Harrison has been giving me lessons after school when you both have your own clubs and the like.”

“And once she’s mastered it,” Luke pipes up. “I will grudgingly play my guitar with you guys to record some country songs. So make ‘em good.”

Reggie pulled them in for hugs and kisses at that, uncaring of how his tears might stain their clothes, he was too happy for words right now. The only thing that he could choke out was that he loved them, and these were the best gifts he had ever received.

That was, until years later when his gift to them both was a set of shiny engagement rings, and their enthusiastic yeses were better than anything wrapped up under the tree.

[azvolrien]

Flight Camp

A pleasant weekend giving flying lessons to a group of young gryphons goes somewhat awry.

---

“At least the weather’s good this time,” said Asta. “How many weekends have they had to postpone this, now?”

“Three,” said Redbolt with a deep sigh. “Now, I’ve flown in some pretty rough weather, but don’t suppose it’s fair to ask the little chickies to fly in a full-tilt thunderstorm.”

“It could be a useful skill for them,” said Asta, smiling. “We are in Stormhaven, after all.”

Redbolt gave a soft clicking laugh in his throat. “Likely save that for the advanced classes.”

However bad the summer storms had been, they had passed completely with no sign of returning just yet. The sky above Aberystrad Beach was a clear, pure blue, only interrupted by a few high white wisps flying in the wind coming off the sea, but despite that, the beach itself was almost deserted, other than a handful of beachcombers along the tideline and the gaggle of young gryphons – older than fledglings, but not by much – gathering on the white sand.

Redbolt leant over the edge of the huge gryphon sculpture’s head to glance down at them. “How many’s that now, d’you reckon?”

“Mmm, I think I see twelve,” said Asta. “Thirteen, if that one off to the side is with the group as well.” She flipped back the top of her satchel and took out her notebook to check the roster. “And there were… Fifteen on the signup sheet.”

Redbolt settled back with another sigh. The remaining half of his tail twitched slightly, suggesting that a phantom tail-tuft flicked to and fro in relaxation. “I’ll give them another few minutes to show up, then.” He glanced at the notebook in her hand. “Were you always this keen with notebooks and such, or did you catch it off Master Gwen?”

“She is a fearsomely organised woman,” said Asta, double-checking an earlier page for the weather forecast. “But no, in this case; I don’t think I’ve gone anywhere without a notebook since I was at school.” She paused. “Certain circumstances notwithstanding. Actually, while we’re talking about the College, I was wondering something, and it’s turned out to be surprisingly difficult to find in the library. Even Arianrhod – you remember her, I lived with her for a few weeks when I first came to Stormhaven – wasn’t sure if they had any books about it. I was hoping you might know more about it.”

“Hrm?”

“Do gryphons have magic?”

“Hrm.” Redbolt wiggled his ear back and forth a couple of times, something like a human making a wavering gesture with one hand. “Yes and no.”

Asta frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well – we all have magic. All of us, every one of us. It’s worked into us, like… like threads in a tapestry. Runs through every feather, every drop of blood. I mean – look at me.” He unfolded both wings to their full, huge extent, more than thirty feet from one wingtip to the other. “Now, I’m lighter than I look, air sacs and all that, but still, you think a beast my size could get off the ground without at least a spark to help out? The wizards always look forward to our moults – our sheds can be useful ingredients for potions and whatnot.” He folded his wings again, shuffling them a little to settle them more comfortably along his back, and looked out to sea.

“So, yeah, gryphons do have magic,” he went on. “But if what you’re really asking is ‘can gryphons be mages’ – that’s rare. That’s very rare. It’s not unheard of, but every generation only hatches one or two, if that, who can really channel and control their magic like the wizards do. I think Owl and her little apprentice are the only ones around at the moment. They live a ways outside the city – Oakhollow, nice little place a bit east of here – but you might have seen her around now and then. White and pale grey feathers, sort of a ruff around her face, hence the name.”

“I think I have seen her once or twice. I’ve never seen one at the College, though. Not as a student, at least – Inkfoot and the messengers are always around, of course.”

Redbolt shook his head. “You wouldn’t have. It sort of – it goes along different lines to a human mage, I’m told. Not much point trying to teach a gryphon to wield magic the same way a human does, ’cause it just won’t work. I did hear that the little one wanted to sit in on a few theory classes, though, so she might turn up now and then after the summer.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for her,” said Asta. She checked her watch. “That’s after ten o’clock now. I think anybody who hasn’t shown up by now is just going to have to deal with being late.”

“Hrm. Don’t suppose it’s fair to keep ’em waiting, the ones who got here on time.” Redbolt stood, stretched, and nodded for Asta to climb onto his back. He waited for her to buckle the safety strap around her waist before he unfurled his wings again, stepped off the side of the sculpture’s head, and glided down to the beach. The gathered youngsters looked up when his shadow passed over them, and had formed up into a wobbly line by the time his claws touched down on the sand. Asta undid the belt and slid off his back.

“We still waiting on anyone?” asked Redbolt once he was within earshot of the young gryphons. “One, two, three, four – yeah, fifteen of you here now. Right! Like as not you’ve seen me around the place – not like this face blends into a crowd easy – but we’ll do some intros anyway. The name’s Redbolt, lately Flight Captain in the Second Assault Wing. Retired the year before last after eighty-odd years in the Army. Saw action in the Battle of Second Eyrie, the Darkwald War, and more border skirmishes than I can even remember.”

“It shows,” said one female on the end of the row. Her neighbour gave her a scandalised look and made a desperate shushing sound.

Redbolt just looked at her for a few seconds until she began to stew. “Yeah, I’m missing a few bits,” he said mildly. “This one here is my pal Asta; mostly she just tagged along for something to do, but she can help you out if you need anything noted down. Any of you got more than a nest-name yet?”

A few of them did; the one who had commented on Redbolt’s scars went by Vinegar for reasons she declined to explain, while a small male halfway along the row was called Goldcrest for reasons that were entirely obvious. Most, however, were still nameless other than whatever their families shouted to get their attention.

“Well, maybe a few more of you’ll have proper names after the weekend,” said Redbolt. “Think I got my first one when I was about your age. So! Let’s make a start. I take it you’ve all been out at the practice trees? Got in some branch gliding, worked up your flight muscles?” Nods all around. “Good. Sky above knows why your families would’ve sent you out here if you hadn’t. So, since you know how to glide down from a high place, lesson one for today: getting off the ground. What do you already know?”

There were a few seconds of silence as the students all glanced at each other, before Goldcrest held up one fore-claw. It seemed such a human gesture that Asta smiled. “Uh… Flap?”

Redbolt laughed. “You’re not wrong, but there’s more to flight than flapping. Look at the shape of my wing.” He held one out to the side. “Not how it’s shaped from above, but from the side. See how the leading edge is rounded where all the bone and muscle is, then it trails to a sharp edge at the back where the feathers are. Then each big feather is like that too, but smaller, with the vane and the shorter barbs at the front and the longer barbs towards the back. You’ve all got the same. How you hold your wings, how the air flows over that shape – that’s just as important as flapping. More, I’d say. See the gulls up there? How they soar about, only moving their wings now and then? It’s the same for them.

“Now, me, I’ve got enough power in my chest and my back legs that taking off with one big downstroke-leap is easy enough for me, and I’ll try you out on that later, but for now let’s start you out with a wind take-off. Good weather for it today; nice strong breeze off the sea, not too many eddies to throw you around. Asta, you’d better go off to the side for a bit.”

“Yes, I think I better had,” said Asta, and sat down on the sand at the base of the statue. A couple of the students turned to watch her go, clearly still wondering why a human was sitting in on a flying class.

Redbolt cleared his throat to regain their attention. “All right! Step one! Spread out so you don’t all crash into each other.” He waited until they had done so, forming a straggling row along the tideline. “Step two!” he went on, raising his voice so they could all hear him. “Face into the wind. Step three! Wings out.” He waited until all of the young gryphons had their wings spread. Most of them were, in gryphon parlance, ‘eagles’ like Redbolt, with long, broad wings built for soaring, but a few had the shorter, rounder wings and longer tail-feathers of ‘hawks’. Redbolt nodded his approval and turned towards the sea, spreading his own wings. “Step four!” he shouted. “Make shallow flaps like this, and run!”

Two of the students almost immediately crashed into each other and fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs; one tripped on an inconvenient stone and planted his beak in the sand up to his nostrils. Three others managed to take off in a wavering glide for a few seconds before settling relatively gently in the surf and wading back to shore. The rest, however, successfully caught the wind at just the right angle and, and they picked up speed, lifted their claws from the sand and rose into the air. Redbolt nodded again and led them in a wide, gently rising spiral over the sea before coming back in for a long gliding descent to the beach. Asta couldn’t hear what Redbolt shouted back to them as they neared the sand, but presumably it was something to do with how to brake properly. Their landings were less graceful than their take-offs; only four of the students managed to copy how Redbolt dropped his hindquarters, fanning out his tail feathers and spreading out his wings to slow himself before he lowered his hind claws to the sand, took a couple of awkward little hops as his speed fell, and finally dropped to all fours and came to a halt. ‘Crash’ was probably too uncharitable a way of describing the others, but it wasn’t that far off the mark. One came close, but went to all fours too quickly and fell flat on her chest; another missed the mark with his hind legs and tumbled over in a rather spectacular forward roll.

“Everyone still in one piece?” asked Redbolt, to a chorus of pained but affirmative groans. “No broken bones or feathers? Good. Little ones like you should still be bendy enough to take a few knocks with no damage to more than your pride. Right, everyone back up to where we were first.” He waited until everyone had assembled once more and lay down on the sand, crossing his front claws over each other. “Now for the bit everyone loves,” he said, with something like a wicked grin in his voice, though his body language betrayed nothing. “Crrrriticism! Now, you two, and you,” he said, nodding towards the ones who hadn’t even left the ground. “Don’t think I need to say where you went wrong, eh?”

“We’ll stand further apart next time,” said one, glancing sheepishly to the side.

“And keep a better eye on where I’m putting my feet,” added the one who had tripped.

“Good. Now, you three, you had the right idea, but you needed more lift, which in this case means you needed more speed.”

“So, run faster,” said one of the trio who had landed in the sea.

“Run faster,” agreed Redbolt. “Like I said, I’ll try you on a leaping take-off later, but I want to see about getting you all off the ground this way first. Now, as for getting you back on the ground…”

Asta had, she privately admitted, been a little dubious when Redbolt had told her about the flying lessons. She didn’t have much contact with the other military gryphons, but those few she had spoken with who had trained under Redbolt remembered it with something approaching horror; one had told her with a haunted expression that they still dreaded the occasions when he came in as a guest instructor. However, he had clearly adjusted his teaching style for a non-military audience. ‘Gentle’ was probably still not the right word, for he made sure every one of his students knew exactly where they had gone wrong, even those who, such as Vinegar, seemed to Asta’s eyes to have performed perfectly, but he had tempered his criticism with enough coaching on how to improve that soon they were all raring to line back up for another attempt.

It was almost sunset when Redbolt finally called a halt. They had, finally, all managed to take off into the wind, circle around, and land without crashing at least three times.

“Bit trickier than a quick flutter up to the top of the statue, eh?” said Redbolt, pointing up to where they would all have been presented to Lady Starfeather after growing their first set of flight feathers. They murmured their agreement. “We’re gryphons, chickies. Flight’s in our blood. You’d get off the ground without my help, sooner or later. But instinct’s best when it’s paired with proper training.” His tail twitched from side to side in a ‘smile’. “Reckon you’re all starving now, though. C’mon, back to camp for some grub.”

A cheer went up and they followed him back through the coastal dunes in a ragged crocodile, to where a series of tents big enough to comfortably house gryphons had been set up around a huge firepit. Another cheer greeted this sight, for an entire ox had been roasting on a spit over the fire. The team of human cooks who had overseen it lifted the spit from its supports, carried it over to a wide, flat area of stone that had been carefully swept clear of sand, and stood back as the students descended upon the carcass like a flock of starving vultures.

“Gruesome sight, isn’t it?” said Redbolt, almost laughing.

“I think Goldcrest just put his entire head inside the ribcage,” said Asta faintly.

“Yeah, I didn’t think he had that in him, truth be told,” said Redbolt. “Struck me as more of the fussy type.” He glanced sideways to catch Asta’s mildly horrified expression. “Ah, it’s just a flight camp tradition to go a bit wild on the first night. Tomorrow’s dinner’ll be a bit more civilised. Might even have tables.”

“Tables!” said Asta. “How decadent.”

“No need for us to join the scrum, though,” said Redbolt. “C’mon, over – ah, hm. You do eat meat, yeah? Never thought to ask but I know some humans have a thing…”

Asta assured him this wasn’t a problem and followed him over to a second, smaller firepit where the cooks had roasted a pig for Redbolt. He must have warned them in advance that he had human company: they were prepared with a plate and cutlery and carved off a few slices for Asta before placing the rest down on another clean stone for Redbolt. He gave a grunt of approval – evidently high praise from the way the head cook smiled – and began to tear into it with his beak, pinning it in place with his great hooked talons. Long since used to Redbolt’s eating habits, slightly neater than the youngsters’, Asta watched quietly as she ate her own helping, noting how he used his other claw to compensate for the missing talon on his left. She frowned thoughtfully, her gaze drifting up from his claws to the great scar that cut through where his eye had once been.

“Redbolt?” she asked once he had mostly finished his pig.

“Ayah?”

“You’re missing part of your tail.”

“I am?!” said Redbolt, letting his jaw drop. A strip of pork fell from the corner of his mouth. “Why did nobody tell me?!”

“Very funny. I was just wondering, after watching you with the students today – does it affect how you fly?”

“Good question,” said Redbolt. He retrieved the fallen scrap and swallowed it before twisting his head around to look back at his tail. Intact, it would have been some six feet long, but whatever long-ago wound had taken it had left less than half of that. “It did throw off my balance at first,” he said after surveying it for a few seconds. “Had to re-learn a lot of that. But see these big feathers at the base?” He fanned them out in demonstration. “They’re what’s really important for steering in the air. You see it with birds too. Use ’em to shift the airflow over the wings.”

“I think I understand.” More hesitantly, Asta went on. “How did that happen? I know you lost your eye and your talon in the Darkwald War, but…”

“Hah, nah, the tail’s an older thing. Not even a war wound, really, if we’re strict about it.” He sighed. “Gang of slave raiders had climbed up into the Chainbreaker Hills, a good bit north of the Harbinger Pass. Started preying on a couple of the little tiny villages up there, chaining folk up and making ready to drag them back down the hill. And somehow – dunno where they got it – they had a bladehound with them.”

Asta gasped. The terrifying war-constructs had been designed for killing wizards, loaded with as much resistance to magic as their creators could manage, but their sheer bulk and steel claws as sharp and heavy as meat cleavers made them easily a match for a gryphon on the ground.

“Yeah. I was with a border patrol when we came across them. Killed some, chased the others back down the hill, and freed the people they’d grabbed. But I reckon whoever’d been giving the bladehound its orders was one of the dead, because the thing went berserrr – uh, ran wild. Started flailing around like nobody’s business. Well, we got pikes, started forcing it back towards a drop that might break it up enough for us to finish the job, when one of my mates got too close. It went for him, all claws, and I lunged to get him out of the way. He did. I didn’t quite, and, well…” He brought his own talons down in a decisive motion. “Chop.”

Asta drew her breath in through her teeth. “I suppose you were lucky to only lose that much. If you’d been any slower it could have severed your spine.”

“Strictly, it did,” Redbolt pointed out.

“Well, yes. But you know what I mean.”

“Heh. Yeah, I know.” Redbolt paused for a moment and continued, a hint of reluctance entering his voice for the first time. “Actually,” he said slowly, “if I’m honest… losing the eye was worse for flying. Made it harder to judge distances, you know? Crashed a few times when the ground came up faster than I’d thought, until I got used to it.” He stared into space for a few seconds, then gave himself a shake as if to dislodge a bad memory. “Still, I am used to it now. Barely remember what it was like to have two, really.”

Asta found that difficult to believe, considering that Redbolt was more than a hundred years old and had been missing an eye for less than twenty, but thought it best not to voice as much. “You’re very philosophical about all your scars,” she said quietly.

“Ah, well. Don’t see much point being otherwise. Not like pulling my feathers out will make my tail grow back, eh?”

“Hm.” Asta ran one hand back over her shoulder and beneath the collar of her blouse, finding the uppermost whipping-scar across her back with her fingertips. Only after a few more seconds of silence did she realise that Redbolt had turned his head and was watching her without speaking. She met his steady golden gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s different, I think, with all of mine,” he said, his raspy voice unusually gentle. “They weren’t fun – actually picked up a nasty infection with the eye, had to sit out the last few months of the war – but… I was on my feet and fighting, you know? Heat of battle sort of thing. Them or me. There wasn’t the same…” He paused, wiggling his ear again. Asta imagined he might have wrinkled his nose, had his beak been capable of such an expression. “Wasn’t the same kind of… of cold cruelty behind it that there was with that.” He nodded towards her back. “And I think maybe it’s that that haunts your dreams as much as the real pain of it.”

“…You might be right.”

Redbolt grunted and gave himself another shake. “You said your berserker killed the one who did that to you?” he said, his voice back to its usual deep, gruff tone.

“Yes. She did.”

“Good. Else I might’ve had to track him down.”

Asta smiled despite herself. “Oh, he wouldn’t stand a chance.” Another short, companionable silence passed by before she changed the subject. “So, you said you might try the students with one of your leaping takeoffs tomorrow?”

“Yeah, we’ll see how many can manage it. They’re young still, and it takes a lot of muscle. They would’ve sort of done it for their presentations, but going into level flight from that is a different skill to a quick flap-flap-flap straight up.”

“You know, I can’t say it’s one I’ve ever had much cause to master.”

They finished eating and, after briefly taking the students to wash up in the river, turned in for the night. Redbolt unbuckled his harness and left it in a heap at the edge of his tent. All he had with him for a bed was a huge rug made from a number of sheepskins sewn together, which he had brought from his eyrie in the city and laid out on the tarpaulin floor, but someone had thoughtfully provided a camp bed for Asta.

“They must’ve been worried I might roll over on you in the night if you just slept on the ground,” said Redbolt as Asta laid out her bedroll on top of it.

“As cosy as your feathers are, I would rather avoid that,” said Asta. “Though as a matter of fact, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve slept next to a gryphon.”

“Yeah?”

Asta nodded. “On the way south with Curlew, I was sharing Captain Steel’s cabin. That first night on the ship, I… was not in a very good place. Mentally speaking. I was trying to muffle it with the blankets they’d given me, but she must have heard me crying anyway, because she got up from her own bed across the room and lay down next to my pallet instead. She didn’t say anything, just folded a wing over me and went back to sleep.”

“Huh. She didn’t strike me as the cuddly sort.” Redbolt yawned enormously, arched his back, and turned around in a circle before he lay down on his front and rested his head on his forelegs. “Well, feel free to snuggle up if you have a bad dream, but otherwise – I’ll see you in the morning.”

They didn’t make it to the morning before both of them woke with a start. Screams echoed from down by the beach, not human voices but the earsplitting shrieks of terrified young gryphons. Somebody clawed frantically at the tent door, talons piercing the canvas. “Redbolt! Mr Redbolt! Sir!”

Goldcrest. Asta sat up and dragged her hair into an unbrushed ponytail as Redbolt lurched to his feet and wrenched the flap aside. “What’s wrong?”

The little gryphon cringed back from Redbolt looming over him. “I- We were- it’s-”

Asta went down on her knees, bringing their eyes to the same level, and took his face between her hands. “Look at me. Deep breaths. Now, what’s happening?”

Goldcrest drew in a long, slow breath, nervously fluffing his feathers out. “A few of us went back to the beach for a bit more practice after lights-out,” he said. He cast a cautious glance up at Redbolt, who just listened in silence. “One of the others, that hawk with the sort of falcon markings? She – I don’t know, she must’ve panicked or something, and, well, um…” He pointed back towards the beach.

Redbolt looked. “Ah.”

The other students had gathered in a frightened huddle, staring helplessly at the cyclone hovering above the beach. Although the sky was otherwise still clear, the funnel of howling winds had whipped sand and spray alike up into a veil around a lone figure in midair, lit up now and then by a flicker of sparks.

“She’s a mage?” said Asta.

“We didn’t know!” one of the students wailed. “She didn’t know!”

“Vinegar!” Redbolt bellowed over the wind. The gryphon in question sat up on her haunches to stand out from the pack. “Oakhollow’s a straight flight four miles east of here. Think you can find it in the dark?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. Go. We need Owl, and we need her fast.”

Vinegar nodded, took a run-up, and disappeared into the night in a flurry of feathers.

Redbolt looked back at the miniature windstorm on the beach, ran his talons through the feathers on his chest, and sighed deeply.

“What are you thinking?” asked Asta.

“That next time I run one of these, I should enlist a couple more adults to keep an eye on the youngsters.”

“I’m an adult,” Asta pointed out.

“Adults who can fly.”

Asta’s eyes flicked down to the sand at the bottom of the funnel. “How close can you get me?”

Redbolt turned his entire head to stare at her. “What?”

She pointed, grabbing a handful of his feathers with her other hand. “Look – look at the base of it. It’s moving.”

“Of course it’s moving, it’s a storm!”

“I don’t just mean around in a circle, I mean it’s drifting towards the sea! However long it takes Vinegar to find this village and then for Owl to get back here – I don’t think we have that long until that thing turns into a waterspout. And then – well. I don’t want her to drown, do you?”

Redbolt continued to look at her doubtfully.

“I know I’m not a mage and I’m certainly not a gryphon, but I do work at the College. If there’s one thing I have done a few times by now, it’s calm down a panicking apprentice.”

Redbolt looked from her to the storm and back a couple of times, breathing slowly and deeply, before he nodded. “Get a good hold on my neck, then. No time to go back for my harness.”

He took off at a run the second Asta was on his back, leaping into flight above the dunes and hurtling towards the cyclone. Asta clung harder to his feathers as he half-folded his wings and plunged into the funnel, riding the gale in a tight circle until he burst through into a pocket of still air in the middle.

The young gryphon hung in the very centre, not as motionless as Asta had initially thought: her body spasmed as bright bluish-white light crackled over her feathers, pulsing along the stiff vanes of her primaries and glowing in her wide, staring eyes, while her talons raked at the air as she tried desperately to steady herself. Her beak gaped open as her chest fluttered with rapid, shallow breaths. Slowly, jerkily, she managed to turn her head to look at them, but if she cried out, the sound was instantly torn away by the wind.

“I can’t hover, Asta!” Redbolt shouted, circling in a small ring above the youngster. “Whatever you’ve got planned, do it quick!”

Asta steeled herself and, before Redbolt could object or she could second-guess herself, threw herself from his back. He gave one appalled squawk, shocked out of his coordination, and the wind tossed him head-over-heels out of the funnel. Asta flung her arms around the young mage’s neck, dragging them both a few feet downwards before the uncontrolled magic arrested their fall. Pinpricks of sparks crawled across her hands as they dug into the slate-grey feathers, but she kept her grip and brought her mouth as close to one pointed ear as she could.

“Can you hear me?” A nod, felt rather than seen. “Have you got a name?” Shake. “I think you might after tonight, but we need to get safely back on the ground first. For now, just close your eyes and focus on my voice. You’re going to be all right.”

The gryphon’s forelegs twitched upwards to wrap around her waist; Asta winced as the talons dug in through the thin fabric of her blouse, but kept it from her voice. “Now, close your beak. Breathe in through your nostrils for a count of one… two… three… four… five… and out through your mouth. Like this.”

Slowly, the gryphon’s breathing evened out. The sparks became fewer and further between, the glow fainter, but the funnel surrounding them did not let up.

“That’s it. You’re doing well.”

“The wind-”

“Don’t worry about the wind yet. It’s not the wind holding you up here. Have you ever seen a wizard levitate? For now, just think – down.”

The gryphon took another deep breath, and slowly they began to sink until finally their feet touched the sand. The gryphon’s rear talons dug in as if to cling to the ground, and she opened her eyes. The glow was gone, revealing them to be a shade somewhere between a chick’s brown and an adult’s gold, but the wind still spiralled around them both.

“There we go,” said Asta, holding eye contact. “That’s the worst part out of the way.”

Then, a flash of motion. A pale shape hurtled through the air outside the funnel, circling around and around opposite the direction of the wind. Bit by bit the storm slowed until they could see the newcomer clearly: a lone adult gryphon, her feathers a snowy white fading to a pale grey on her wing coverts, and a strange ruff around her face. She brought herself up short, golden light coursing along the vanes of her flight feathers, and thrust both wings forwards with a sound like a thunderclap. With one huge gust of wind towards the sea, the young mage’s storm disappeared. The waves settled, and the beach was peaceful once again.

The youngster let go of Asta’s waist and backed away, looking at the sand as Owl landed. Redbolt hurried forwards and swept Asta in under his wing, preening her hair with the tip of his beak. She pushed his beak away half-heartedly before she hugged him around the neck and buried her face in his feathers.

“You sure the berserker’s the mad one of the pair of you?” muttered Redbolt, bowing his head over her shoulder.

“Heh. Well, under certain circumstances…”

Redbolt lifted his head again to take in the scene. Now that the storm had ended, the rest of the students had crept down from the dunes, edging carefully towards the mage. At their head, Vinegar sat up and punched one clenched claw towards the sky. “Galewing! Galewing! Galewing!” Soon the others had taken up the chant, and didn’t stop until Redbolt let go of Asta and stepped forwards.

“Looks like you have another apprentice,” he said to Owl. She didn’t look terribly pleased by this development. “You know the law,” Redbolt told her, his tail twitching. “All those with magic must learn to control it.”

Owl tipped her head back until it almost rested between her shoulders and gave a long, drawn-out groan. “Fiiiine.” She eyed the newly-named Galewing for a second, and her bristling crest-feathers settled into a somewhat gentler expression. “Well, I guess Sunbeam’ll be happy to have a ‘study buddy’,” she said, the last two words a little stilted as if she was unfamiliar with the term. She lifted a front claw and jabbed one talon towards Galewing. “I’ll see you at Oakhollow first thing on Ravensday to get started. You’ve got until then to sort things out with your family.” Galewing nodded. Owl lowered her talon and turned away. “Good.” She groaned again. “I’m going back to bed.”

“You know,” said Asta once Owl had flown off, “when you mentioned her earlier, I think I imagined someone with more… gravitas.”

“People usually do,” said Redbolt with a sigh. “But she does know magic, and she’s softer than she likes to act. Galewing’ll do fine with Owl keeping an eye on her.” He looked back at the rest of the students, who were still bunched in a loose half-circle around Galewing, and unfolded his wings in a shooing gesture, herding them back towards the camp. “The rest of you, back to bed as well! And stay there until morning this time!”

“I’ll speak to Master Gwen when I get back to the college,” said Asta as they walked back through the dunes. “I’m sure she can set aside some time for a chat with you before the next time you run one of these weekend events.”

“Huh? What for?”

“Because,” said Asta, “I don’t think there is anyone in Stormhaven with more experience organising groups of magical children than her.” She poked him in the side of his neck, grinning. “You are going to learn all about risk assessment forms.”

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What has two thumbs and spent more time than is probably necessary reading about bird anatomy and flight physics? 👍👍

Gryphons aren't real! They don't need to be 'scientifically accurate'! And indeed kind of can't be, considering the aforementioned 'not real' thing. But I've always felt that at least a few nods in that direction adds a certain verisimilitude to fantasy and helps to suspend disbelief about all the stuff that's just nonsense. This was also the rationale behind noting that yes, Redbolt does actually have trouble with his depth perception.

I'm not sure how old the young gryphons are chronologically, as their aging doesn't really map neatly into human terms, but developmentally I'd put them in sort of the 8-10 range.