#also him in the mythical au blah blah

[ted-calling-orson]

Didar brainrot winning rn I gotta fight the urge to make another au help me

[fatesundress]

⭑ observations. tom riddle x reader

part ii here.

summary. you've been going to hogwarts for four months, and find this whole school-wide obsession with tom riddle a little bit ridiculous, and a little bit contrived. surely not all the rumours are true...

tags. smut (minors dni -_-), fem anatomy, fingering, reader who is soooo in denial, trying to worm into tom's brain like a parasite and failing miserably (me projecting), i think reader is implied to either be short or tom is implied to be tall, ooc tom because i am so far from the belief that he would ever just spontaneously hook up with someone but… it is what it is.

note. this is my first post so support is much appreciated!! god forgive me, i've never written smut in my life, and it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also, i tried my best to make reader fairly neutral, but it's late, and if i've fumbled over some description bc i'm sleepy i shall fix it in the morning ♡

word count. 5.1k

Your first observation is that nobody has Tom Riddle quite right.

He��s beautiful, yes (obvious, repetitive, shallow), and undeniably intelligent (being paired with him in Potions has proved that in a matter of weeks), untouchable (this one is a bit interesting), and, above all, unusual. The latter you like the most. It makes you feel unabashedly exceptional in all the very unexceptional gossip about him. No one ever uses that word to describe him. A rarity of charisma and charm — austere, refined, and clinically polite. Unusual has a negative curve to it that most people don’t attach to the elegant litheness of Tom Riddle, but your observations cannot be stated without the word.

It’s prompted and peddled by Selwyn’s much-too-enthusiastic vehemence in the wake of your first.

You narrow your eyes at her and say it again, no less certain than the first time. “Tom Riddle has not had sex with half the school.”

It’s a bit of a jump. Some necessary context is removed.

Riddle, once more, rarity of charisma and charm and austere blah blah blah, has been rumoured since you arrived this year from your last school to be some silent conqueror, oh-so nimble with his hands and nimbler even with his other appendages, and you — you’ve only been here four months and it’s laughable how many people believe it.

Backtrack to untouchable (this one everyone agrees is a primary characteristic of Tom Riddle, there’s no debate there) and the reason you find it interesting. Untouchable doesn’t exactly work if everyone in the bloody castle has been touching him this whole time. And it’s not as if he could hide it, not as if people wouldn’t be giddy to tell their friends of their exploits with the beautiful, revered Head Boy. And such exploits would be whispers among the halls in a matter of hours. You’ve considered this, with almost scientific determination, and it’s impossible. Tom studies all day, and when he isn’t studying he’s corralling Slytherin first-years away from forbidden corridors, attending to Dippet’s newest errand, escorting third-years to Hogsmeade, dining with the Slug Club, and — point is, someone would have noticed by now if he was disappearing into broom closets with a new lay every weekend.

But Selwyn shakes her head, because this rumour is such an integral part of Tom’s allure. He is, somehow, both untouchable and a master at touch. Distant until he isn’t, and then he can break you apart with practised, perfect hands. It’s all very mythical.

“Look,” she says, “maybe if I’d only been here four months, I’d think so too, but everyone else knows—”

“Maybe it’s because I’ve only been here four months that I have the objectivity to recognize how ridiculous you all are. He’s not a god, Selwyn, he’s a scholar, and an obsessed one at that — has it ever actually occurred to you he might not have had sex at all?”

This, now, is sacrilege. 

Selwyn gapes at you, and you shake your head in surrender before you burst out laughing at how offended she looks. “Fine, whatever. Consider the matter dropped. I give up.”

You don’t really give up. It’s very fun research.

Your second observation is that unusual is not an apt enough word for Tom, and maybe you don’t possess the vocabulary to think of one that is.

You’re in the Restricted Section. This is unrelated to your Tom research, and perfectly sanctioned, with a key granted by the librarian who you feel sorry to admit you have not remembered the name of, and the library, by all means, is still open. It’s a late Thursday night, but not past curfew. You’re there with a study partner you rather wish you weren’t — Gregory Godefrey, Gryffindor (the alliteration is nauseating), and the only half-decent fellow in your Ancient Runes class, but not especially bright. You feel more like his tutor than his partner. In short, the regular books on the topic you’re writing your end-of-term essay on are slim pickings, and thus — Restricted Section.

“So,” you say, “the scriptures might look the same, but they’re written in vastly different time periods, so the meaning has changed. If you were to charge a spell with one of Ashe’s runes now, there’s almost no doubt you’d get a completely different result.”

“I don’t get it,” Godefrey grumbles sleepily into his sleeve. “How’s anyone meant to use runes if they can just change like that?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Any magic can change, Godefrey. Half of the stuff we learn is based on intention and skill. Uagadou barely even uses wands — all of this is arbitrary.”

“My head hurts.”

“Then… just… just go to bed. I’ll finish up here and we’ll try again on the weekend.”

He grins with heavy eyes, lugging his bag over his shoulder and leaving you a packet of sherbet lemons you bitterly wish he’d pulled out sooner. “Wicked — you’re the best. See’ya.”

“See you…” you mumble, unwrapping one and popping it in your mouth.

You don’t stay for long, twirling the key to the Restricted Section around your finger as you tuck your books back into their shelves.

“It’s ten past curfew,” says a voice from behind you, all cool, measured authority, and you nearly collapse.

You stare up from where you’re grabbing onto your knees for balance, your heart halfway out of your chest.

Tom Riddle is there, his Head Boy badge somehow still glittering in the dim light of the library, and it’s only by the half-smile quirking at his lips that you can detect his words weren’t some sort of threat.

“Right, thanks.” You gather your breath. “I was just leaving.”

“Pity about Godefrey.”

You blink. Having worked with Tom in Potions since September, you’ve become perfectly adjusted to speaking to him… only about Potions. He indulges in polite small talk, he smiles freely, but your distance from him is the same as it is with everyone else, if only for the fact that, you suppose, you aren’t actively pursuing anything closer.

Oh. That is interesting — would he be so easily intrigued? It’s a bit cliché, but you suppose he is too.

You’re making an awful lot of assumptions from the words ‘pity about Godefrey,’ and then, you don’t actually have a damn clue what Tom could mean by that.

“Sorry?” you ask.

“Godefrey,” he repeats. “I assume you’re being made to tutor him.”

Right. He must have seen him on his way here. That would make sense.

“No, actually. It’s entirely voluntary — he’s my study partner for Ancient Runes.”

His chin lifts in some nearly imperceptible way, smiling still, and you know he’s a polished thing, an unusual thing, but it reads as an especially fake smile then. “Ah.”

… Oooookay?

“Well —” you start, a mechanical smile of your own forming — “curfew, then.”

The charm fixes onto his face like a damn ornament. You want to flick it away with your finger. “Of course. I’ll see you in Potions?”

You nod, leaving the key behind the librarian’s desk as you slink awkwardly away. Into the corridor. Off to bed. Yet another note to scrawl on the enigma of Tom Riddle.

You see him again first thing in the morning. You’re yawning into the archway of Slughorn’s stuffy classroom, eager to dump your bag over your table and empty the many contents necessary for today’s lesson. 

There’s one girl, the oldest of the Lestranges, who glares daggers into the back of your head every class. Tom is, as always, nonplussed, asking you about your morning as you both prepare your phials and ingredients. You can’t help but shake your head at him this once, a bemused smile on your lips as you glance between him and the Lestrange girl.

“Have I offended her somehow, or is it just that I’m paired with you?”

He laughs under his breath. “I daresay that is the offense.”

You can’t help it. You’re mumbling to yourself in amazement at the bizarre, borderline cultish devotion this school has to Tom Riddle. “Unattainable commodity that you are, Riddle…”

“Well," he begins, his smile small but his voice amused, “I hope you don’t think of me as quite that far outside your grasp."

You freeze.

Are you — have you missed something? Has your casual (really, very casual and not at all unwarranted or peculiar) research for the sake of dispelling Selwyn’s obsession skewed your memory of Tom? Has he always said things like this to you? Have you always read into them like this?

One of his eyebrows rises, and it might be his notorious flattery — but if so, he makes it sound like an obvious truth, and you stammer over the jar of foxglove in your hand. Then you look away, unscrew it, do well not to put too much weight on his words.

“Hm. I have no need for you to be within it, Riddle." You say it with all nonchalance you can muster. To spit it at him in some aggressive dismissal would be to treat it like a big thing. 

It isn’t a big thing. He’s talking to you like he talks to everyone else.

But you catch the barest flicker of disappointment on his face, a flash of something that might even be annoyance. Then, though, it’s gone, and he’s back to that same unshakable, confident smirk.

As the lesson proceeds,  he’s once again the sharpest thing in the room.

You watch for him in the library that weekend, a bit distracted while you and Godefrey study. Without your guidance, there isn’t much studying occurring at all. Godefrey is sort of skimming the pages of a textbook, yawning, as always, like he’s never had a good night’s sleep in his life, and you’re suckling sherbert lemons until the roof of your mouth feels raw.

“What was it you said about Calarook’s Method?”

Your eyes snap from the empty doorway to Godefrey’s face. “Huh?”

“Calarook’s Method.”

“Oh.” You sink boredly into your seat, twirling your quill between your fingers. “It revolutionised the usage of runes globally. She incorporated — um — a much simpler means of translating the scriptures for different methods of magic.”

“Ohhhh, I remember now. Did you write that down?”

“Yes, Godefrey, I wrote it down.”

The final hour before curfew dwells agonisingly longer than it should. It feels like three, at least, until you’re packing your things and bidding Godefrey goodnight, tired legs dragging you down the corridors.

And then you straighten. You stand tall. (You’re absolutely normal about the sight before you.)

Tom smiles at you as he turns the corridor to approach.

“On patrol?” you ask in a friendly tone.

You’re… friends, right? Being someone’s Potions partner for four months qualifies as some degree of friendship, does it not? After all, he did say not to think of him as too far outside your grasp. That was a line if you’d ever heard one, but — you could be Tom’s friend the way everyone is his friend: wholly detached until you were needed.

“Leaving detention,” he answers with a timbre to match.

Your eyebrows raise at that.

“Leaving the second-years I watched in detention, I should say.”

You shake your head. “I should have known.”

“And you?”

“Studying again.”

“Ancient Runes?”

“Mhm.”

“...With Godefrey?”

“That is the concept of a recurrent study partner, yes. It’s recurrent.”

He doesn’t look very much like he appreciates your sarcasm.

“So, then,” you mutter, clearing your throat. “Curfew, I suppose.”

“You performed well in Potions today,” he says after you. It feels like the sort of thing someone says when they don’t want someone to walk away.

You bite your cheek between your teeth — such assumptions will get the better of you. Such assumptions will lead you down a path of crude, obsessive analysis (though you suppose you’ve been doing that all this time, haven’t you?) where you think, in some unspooling knitwork, that there are really only a select few reasons he could want such a thing. Your mind draws to the irresponsible conclusion, as he walks toward you again, a new glint in his eyes, that it’s exactly the sort of thing someone says before rumour has it they disappear into the nearest broom closet with the one they approach. This, you’ve decided an observation ago, Tom Riddle does not do.

“Thank you,” you say carefully. “So did you.”

“We make for a good pair, don’t you think?”

Crude, obsessive analysis. “Slughorn certainly does.”

“And I am asking you.”

He stops a respectable, inviting space before you. His weekend attire is a grey jumper and black slacks, his dark hair in its regular, pristine waves, hands laced behind his back. Everything about him is a request to be met, and not to step forward and close the distance himself. Close the distance, pristine waves, inviting space — you’ve lost your damn mind. You sound like Selwyn. The sugar of a whole packet of sherbet lemons has rendered you imbecilic. You’ll be off to bed, then — sleep this absurdity off.

“Of course, Tom,” you say with a polite smile. “It’d be hard to disagree with the grades I get in that class.” You grab onto your bag to have something to do with your hands, to perhaps signify you’ll be making your exit now.

He seems a bit amused to have to contort himself through the specifics of his meaning. “I was referring to our… rapport.”

“Rapport?”

“We work well together. We communicate efficiently.”

We communicate efficiently? Damn if you couldn’t suddenly make sense of the rumour he’d be applying for the DADA post in the future — that one was definitely true.

“Yes, we do.”

He steps closer. “And I remain far outside your grasp.”

You blink, and there’s a stark, sinking feeling as your eyes drift over the unmarred ivory of his skin, his jaw, his throat, his — no, absolutely not his hands — and you let yourself wonder for the first time if the rumours, albeit exaggerated, have even a shred of truth to them. One exploit, perhaps, to satisfy his endless curiosity. Something academic, like — oh, God, like the way you’ve been studying him for weeks. His hands carving a path down someone’s body to etch it in his memory, another skill added to his arsenal, a new way to work his fingers without a wand, a new way to work his mouth without a word.

It’s only a moment that you wonder it. Some flash of pictures in your head. It is, nonetheless, a moment far too long, and one you don’t know that you can return from.

Tom looks at you from under his eyelashes with an expression that suggests he's the only one in on a very funny joke, and the air is… different. Thick like the Potions room but in a way that’s entirely unfamiliar, not cloudy with the steam of cauldrons but hazy with the proximity of him, cologne and quill ink and something you can’t catch because you’re trying too hard to breathe it all in at once.

But he steps forward again, and seems to say in the slow way he moves, that if you’ll let him, he'll place a hand on your shoulder, and if you’ll allow that — well — then he'll move that hand up to gently frame your cheek. And then, and you no longer consider yourself at all versed in the realm of Tom Riddle, but you think you know what’ll come next.

You allow all of it. You know very well in advance you’re going to allow all of it.

And still, like it’s a surprise, you shiver at the feeling of his hand on your cheek, at the gleaming, certain look in his eyes. Your gaze flickers to his lips for just a second (a fleeting, tiny second you pray fruitlessly he doesn't notice) but his lips curl into the barest of smiles. Something so like him, small but unrestrained, like it never had any hope of growing bigger, but then — you’ve seen the way he grins at you sometimes when you say something stupid in class — you know he’s capable.

“You know what I'm going to do, I assume," he says quietly. It's not a question, per se — more of a statement, and he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on yours as he says it. He's so close you can feel the warmth of his breath. And then he leans in so slightly it might be imperceptible if you weren’t staring, holding your damn breath. “Are you going to let me?"

“I..." You're humiliated to find you are actually struggling to speak. His lips are so close to yours you can feel the ghost of them, can imagine what they might feel like on you. Your mouth is very dry. “We’re… friends, right?”

His voice only wavers for a moment, even as his lips inch ever closer to yours. His voice is tauntingly low, and there's an intimate sort of smile there, a chastising, humorous gleam to his eyes. “Friends," he breathes, and then his lips do close that short distance, and you feel the barest trace of his mouth against yours — his lips, soft and supple against your skin. A moment's kiss. Gone as quickly as it came. “Should we be friends?”

You gape at him, breathing far too heavily for such a chaste kiss, and you imagine your eyes are blown wide, and you lick your lips for a reminder of his taste but it isn't enough. You don't think before standing on your toes to find his lips again. Of course, Tom is stood impeccably straight, his chin almost pointedly jutted so that he can look down at you, and you actually — it's horribly embarrassing — you groan, or whine, or make some sound of blatant discontent at the fact that your kiss doesn’t reach him.

To his credit, his laugh is a very small one. Had it been the other way around you would have been far less forgiving. “I suppose the answer is no, then?" he says, with the implication that the next move might be yours.

“Tom," you as good as hiss (really very foolish of you to use the word forgiving to describe Tom Riddle), “you're being... you're being mean." And you refuse to make the first effort again, even though you probably appear to be a train wreck, your chest is heaving, and you... you want him.

“Am I?" he asks, and he tilts his head to the other side, almost as if to get a better look at you. “How so?" You think he's enjoying himself far too much. But he remains where he is: close enough for you to reach him if you would just yank him toward you and be done with it, and far enough away that you can't take that step without giving him the win.

You stare at him for a long moment, and then with teeth gritted so tight you might chip one, turn to walk away. Tom makes some very hollow, annoyed sound at your stubbornness, and thank god you feel him behind you: soft, lulling, not so immovable as you. 

You stop. His fingers brush your hair to the side. His mouth hovers over the skin of your neck. You shudder.

“Tom..." you sigh, half-exasperated, half-sighed, half-surrendered, but he doesn't answer or stop or do so much as acknowledge your mumbling. He only presses forward, until his breath is right by your ear and his lips, soft, gentle, are against the junction of your exposed neck, and you feel his mouth, the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin... so tender, so light that it doesn’t feel at all like something merciful.

It feels singularly, purposefully cruel.

Your third observation (if you can manage the thought) is that Tom is driven by your reactions. Every little mewl, every shudder, every gasp, he wants more of. He wants whatever you're willing to give him, and you suspect it wouldn’t be hard for him to take it all. Every movement of his hands, his mouth, his — oh, oh no — his tongue, abide by whatever you respond to most. He draws in patterns. He stops. Appreciates the speed of your pulse on the curve of your throat for a moment and then tastes it again. It doesn't seem like he particularly cares what he gets out of it. The intrigue for him is having the proximity (he greatly enjoys that you’ve allowed him it) and capacity (that, you think, he’s always had) to make you fall apart.

He's spinning you then, so you're pressed facing the wall, his chest against your back, and the way he whispers against your skin makes you shiver. You dare to think he feels it, his chest heaving against your back, his breath warm and steady by your ear. And as he kisses you you can't help but imagine what might happen if he were just a few inches lower, if he were to sink to his knees, kissing the soft flesh of your chest, and down, and down, and down…

Your eyes flutter closed, and it's clear you like what he's doing by the sound that escapes you — something loud enough for him to stifle your mouth with his palm. Perhaps a little too much. Perhaps you’ll be embarrassed about it later. But right now his tongue is brushing against your skin again, and there’s something very dizzying and hot that starts with his mouth on your neck and works its way down until it's a challenge just to stay standing. You wonder if he can tell just how weak in the knees you are right now, whether that only makes him push forward, and —

And that must be it. He must know, because you think you're trying to say something but you can't form the words, and he has to feel the reverberations with his teeth bracketing little violets on your neck, he must feel the way your legs buckle, how you're held up only by the weight of him behind you.

He must know.

He pushes forward, his fingers bury in your hair, and he pulls your head back slowly — not necessarily to expose you further, but to better see your face. Your eyes lock with his over your shoulder, and there's that hunger there, lips swollen with the print of you... and his voice, when he speaks, is as if he's only barely stopping himself. “Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head before you think he’s actually finished the question, swallowing the cotton-dry feeling in your throat. No, no — him stopping is the very last thing you want — you feel entirely rational and not at all melodramatic in saying you might just die if he stops. You want more, and he's looking at you like that’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

He bites down gently on your neck, and you gasp as your knees finally go out from under you (you almost think he planned for this with how quickly he catches you), and you wonder if he'll do something you can't bear; if you'll be reduced to a mewling, drooling mess before he's finished with you.

Your fourth observation — which really is the last one you can muster before it starts to melt into something else — is that you make him human in the only way he can understand: panting into him, fingers in his skin, white-hot and damp at the centre of his obsession. The object of his affection. You make him understand something more singular than ambition. 

Want.

And then his spare hand is dipping past your skirts, and you dig your fingers into his wrist — the combination of the hardness pressed against your back, his hands marking a path to forbidden territory, his finger curling into your mouth as his lips continue their assault on your neck — it's too much. It’s deliriously, disastrously not enough. Your vision is starting to blur.

His fingers stop at the curve where your thighs part and you bite gently down on him to quiet the noise that wants to escape you. He hums against your throat, continuing to kiss and lick and bruise you. You're dazedly aware of the cool air on your thighs as your skirts halo your waist, the heat inside, the shudder as his fingers find your core, and carefully begin to circle you. You feel self-consumed, immolated, devoured and spat out again. You feel like you're still falling, and Tom is the only force that keeps you standing.

He draws in slow, expert patterns — and you think, nonsensically, somewhere very distant where you still have sense, that they can’t be expert, he must have read something or observed some — oh. He’s pushing the thin fabric aside until his fingers are pressed directly against your flesh, and he makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat as the evidence of how much you need this soaks his fingers, as they begin to sink in without resistance. Oh. Right. You don’t remember exactly what you were saying. 

You gasp at the feeling of having him inside when they finally curl into you. 

His finger is pulled from your mouth with a small pop, and you can’t even really muster the capacity to be embarrassed by the lewd, wet sound of it. He watches you over your shoulder, at his fingers vanished between your legs, at the drool clinging to the digit he’d quieted you with. He’s smiling into your neck now, proud and grateful all the same.

“Mine,” you think he murmurs, but it’s more something you feel than hear, some vague, hazy consonants pressed to your throat. It would be very like him, so you decide that yes, that’s probably what he said. And there’s something funny about it — the idea of being his — about what it means for him to want you so badly that he says it out loud. It feels a little bit like he’s yours, too.

Tom’s breathing is harsh, the fingers inside you moving as if they have a will of their own. Every muscle in your body constricts and squeezes around them; every cell, every neuron, comes roaring to life; and you’re fucked. You’re so completely fucked. His teeth scrape against you again, wholeheartedly pleased. This is what he wanted to see — the utter loss of you — when you are nothing but sensation, barely aware of your limbs as they slump against him. Tom is it; Tom is the only thing you can think of.

Tom is, inexplicably, upsettingly good at this.

“Look at you," he says softly. And his touch changes; it becomes slower, more deliberate and careful.

You’re trembling hopelessly. The way you coil and collapse under his touch is just further encouragement. He doesn't even bother to speak anymore, only pants, his eyes half-lidded, his lips swollen and slick when they attach to your throat again. Your whole body is on fire, and he's the one setting you alight — there is not a single inch of you that is not alive with the feeling of him, and you can barely breathe through the slow, heavy rush of it. 

You think you cry at the divine curve of his fingers carving inside you, slow and soft and then intense — when you grip his arm for more friction, and one of his hands is coming up to wipe a tear away but the feeling flares in your abdomen and you're only half aware of it, really — you think your eyes have rolled back. You think you've gone somewhere else. 

He keeps you just on the precipice, just shy of losing control, just far enough to leave you craving for more.

“To—Tom," you sob, gasps cleaving his name in two — you're on the brink of something incomprehensible, building inside you to something you can't help but think is about to shatter, your eyes clenching shut as you grip him so hard you're certain your fingers will leave marks. “I'm gonna—"

“I know," he breathes against your neck, hands running a familiar path along your body; he's so very, very proud that he's made you like this. He just barely bites into the spot above your collar, curls his fingers, and then you’re falling — something unfurls inside you and can’t be collected, something hot and depthless that your hands can’t clutch at from where they’re clinging so desperately to him — and you think, coming down from it with trembling, debilitating ecstasy, that he looks very much like he’d be proud to make you like this over and over again.

You're flattened, and that triumph in his eyes — the absolute satisfaction of seeing you this way, of knowing that that he's the one that did it to you — that feeling fills your mind and makes you collapse even more, makes you want to melt and flow into liquid at his feet; to give in, do whatever he says, even if all he says is just be like this for him.

He slowly removes his fingers as you come down, and your eyes are blinking for focus when he turns you around, his thumb coming up to brush over your bottom lip and you sigh at the taste of yourself as he pushes it inside your mouth. His other hand brushes away the damp, stray hairs that have fallen across your face, almost reverently, a silent worship as he takes you in, appreciates everything you just gave him.

He smiles gently at your half-blinking, half-vacant expression, his thumb still in your mouth; he watches you for a long moment in silence. His eyes are heavy-lidded and he's got a small quirk at the corner of his mouth as he pulls his thumb away and swipes it once more over your lip.

You're still not quite sure you can find words. Still not sure they'd form right as your tongue darts over the residue of Tom's finger and you flush impossibly hotter at the feeling of your own arousal on your mouth. Tom fixes your hair behind your ears and it doesn't seem like he's ready to stop taking you in in this state — your hair wild,  lips swollen, throat bruised and dress askew — and he leans in so tenderly it startles you, pressing a faint, almost imperceptible kiss to your forehead.

“Tell Godefrey he’ll be needing a new study partner. I think you’ll find yourself committed elsewhere." And with that he turns on his heel, perfectly composed, and disappears into the darkness of the midnight corridor.

Oh God, you think, and you’re too stunned to even react as you watch him vanish. It takes you a moment before you regain your senses, and you can only just manage to sputter out a breathless, miserable sigh into the air before you.

You are so completely, utterly fucked.

[leofrith]

drag me further into rarepair hell challenge: what are the vibes on dinluke?

OOOOHOOHOOHOOOOOO I’M SO GLAD YOU ASKED 

i have lots of ideas about what their vibe would be but what i keep coming back to is: luke is the sunshine partner who goes “blah blah blah” all day long who could also kill a man with zero effort when needed while din is the partner with the (literal) hard outer shell who speaks sparingly and looks intimidating as hell but who just melts around luke. 

din who’s like, “i’m not a good person and i’ve done horrible things and he deserves better,” and luke who’s just thrilled to have found someone who doesn’t see him as some mythic legend and who thinks the sun shines out of din’s ass. 

din who still really doesn’t understand this jedi shit and probably never fully will but he’s trying his best. din djarin never has and never will call anything by it’s proper name and so when he calls luke's lightsaber a laser sword luke is like, “oh, you’re so lucky i’m in love with you.” din sees luke fight in battle and resigns himself to getting shot because, “well, i can’t concentrate like this.” luke who dives into the galaxy’s problems head first because he’s a fucking skywalker while din, whose only desire in life is to be a side character, grudgingly follows him. 

i’m thinking about them doing the sword and shield maneuver and i am losing it. they are each simping for the other and me? i’m going absolutely bonkers.

some of this comes from separate ways by @mudhorns which i am physically incapable of shutting up about and cannot recommend enough.

also somewhat of a side note but i saw this post yesterday which made me think of them and now my brain ain’t shut up since about a fantasy au starring prince luke and his absolutely besotted knight din. i cannot stop thinking about the king and lionheart trope oh my god.

[minerstatus]

Teyvat’s School for the Gifted

Summary: He's cruel, mean, and sadistic. Lumine cannot fathom why he has the  followers he does, but she won't fall into his hands like the rest of  them.  It was unknown to her at that time how such a stance would cause the biggest uproar the schools ever seen.

This is the silly drama filled high school/college parody AU nobody  asked for filled with Lumine not giving a shit and Childe trying to buy  his way out of problems.

Ship: Lumine/Childe

Tags: Highschool AU, Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Jealousy, lots of side ships.

Status: 10/? on Ao3

Chapter 2

She had two options to think about after that ‘encounter’ or whatever you want to call it. Get in line like the rest of the students and eventually ‘hopefully’ her new toy status wears off and she fades into the sea of students. But that would depend on how HE acts after the dinner encounter. And something told Lumine from the way Amber and Barbara reacted to even speaking of the red headed devil he was a force to be reckoned with.

She tossed and turned in the night thinking of different scenarios for the morning.

There were boys like him back home. Maybe not filthy rich, sons of local shop owners, that acted like him. None of them possessed the same air as he did. Being able to part a sea of students just by walking has to be a superpower in itself.

Come to think of it she didn’t even find out where he was from, perhaps she should ask. The more info the better when it comes to defending herself.

She was never one to sit down and take abuse. When she was just in grade school the local boys knew not to mess with her after a few unfortunate incidents. Her mother always told her it was her blonde hair and honey eyes that made her stand out.

It always starts with them testing you. Small things to annoy you, just to see how you react. She would not be able to keep her temper down if that happened. She already had an issue with her mouth as it is.

She turned one final time in the plush bed she had been provided with. The school had made sure even the scholarship students were treated above average. It was impressive, but did little to dampen her jitters.

-

First day, which means new people and new teachers. Lumine was walked by Amber and Barbara to the faculty building. Razor was found sitting on a bench halfway there. It brought a smile to her face.

Razor had never left Amber’s side the entire night they sat talking. It was girl gossip that Lumine was never into, but enjoyed now that she had some people to actually talk to. Not many people are willing to come to a run-down farm for a sleepover back home. Razor himself didn’t talk much, but Lumine was observant. He sat on her bed and watched her, every action, smile, glance. Lumine was quite interested in understanding what Ambers reservations about him were. She seemed to like him from her perspective.

More questions for later.

A plump woman greeted her at the front desk. She was cheerful, but not like Mrs. Lee was, instead giving off warm motherly tones. Lumine could imagine her doting on all the students she came in contact with.

“Here you are dear.” She handed her a slip of paper with her classes.

“Thanks,” Lumine said quietly as she read the sheet. Alchemy, ancient runes, adventuring 101, history, then finally vision training. She internally laughed at the last class, perhaps they were going to rename it. She pulled on the collar of her school issued cardigan as it threatened to slide off one shoulder.

“Just head out to the academics building Mrs. Lee showed you yesterday and a student will be waiting to guide you to your classes,” The woman told her. Lumine nodded and gave back a genuine smile before turning to leave.

It was easy to pick out the student waiting for her in front of the buildings doors despite the crowds entering and exiting. It was a green haired girl nervously fisting her skirt between fidgeting with her glasses. Two small animal ears poked out from under her main of messy hair. She wore her skirt long, unlike the rest of the student body (and Lumine herself), and covered up with a baggy school issued cardigan like Lumine’s.

“Are you the one waiting for the new girl?” Lumine asked. The girl snapped out of a nervous trance and a blush covered her features.

“Ah! Y-yes,” She stuttered before taking a breath, “Sorry I get nervous easily, my names Sucrose,” she extended a hand.

“Thats a pretty name, I like it,” Lumine said as she returned the handshake. She hoped it might calm her down but Sucrose turned scarlet instead.

“I-I'll walk you to your class,” She mumbled and walked inside. Lumine followed silently, deciding the best course of action was to not embarrass her further.

She led her to a decently sized class of students with a portly teacher standing in the front. He wore robes and a ridiculously oversized wizards' hat. The site was an oddity in Lumines eyes, having only ever had exceptionally plain teachers back home. Sucrose left Lumine at the front of the class as she shuffled over to the teacher, managing to get his attention with a simple clearing of her throat. Lumine decided to inspect the chalk board instead of the students. She didn’t want to know if the red headed asshole was in here yet.

“Ah yes Lumine!” The teacher bellowed and waved her over. She stepped lightly up onto his raised platform as sucrose scurried to her seat in the front row. “My name is professor Rasmodius, take a seat next to Zhongli back there,” He pointed off into the right of the room. Lumines stomach sank at the mention of a familiar name. She dragged herself to the back of the class and slid into the empty stool next to him.

They made eye contact and she swore she could see the gears turning in his mind before he spoke.

“He’s not in this class,” He said in monotone.

Lumine choked on her own spit, “w-what?” she asked him.

“He’s not here, if that is what you are worried about,” He smiled down at her sweetly. Lumine felt her face heat up.

“I don’t care if he's here or not,” She quickly recovered and crossed her arms.

“Hm,” He put a hand on his chin, “You had the same gaze as most other new females.”

“Yes, well sorry for being nervous.”

“Perhaps I have made a wrong assumption, I apologize,” He turned his body to her, “Zhongli of the Wangsheng funeral parlor.”

Lumine fumbled a bit at his words. Was it normal to greet someone with your name and what company you hail from? She eyed him wearily for a moment then decided to screw it. Not like they wouldn’t find out if she lies.

“Lumine of a very poor farm outside of Mondstadt.”

He chuckled in a low deep tone. Lumine felt her façade falling as her heart sped up.

“Sorry, perhaps too formal?” He asked.

“You talk like you are speaking to a business partner,” she told him honestly.

“Ive been told that before, even by my friends,” He admitted. For the first time Lumine’s lips quirked into a teasing smile.

“Alright class today we will be looking into the mythical potions of Esteria! page 103!” The teacher commanded. The room filled with the sounds of turning pages.

“I didn’t get a book?” Lumine questioned.

“You will more than likely get them at some point today,” Zhongli told her as he slid his book over between them, “here share mine.”

“Thanks,” She mumbled, dipping behind her hair to hide her blush. Perhaps her friends were right, most of the group wasn’t that bad.

-

Okay maybe they were wrong, at least two out of the four were very very bad. She had not seen the infamous Childe today, but after alchemy Zhongli was very kind to walk her to the next class. Relieving a very thankful, yet worried, sucrose from her job.

They talked about small things, mostly how the school was going, what she thought of it, what kind of things she did back in Mondstadt. To her surprise Zhongli seemed genuinely interested in the day to day life of a poor person. He was awkwardly polite with everything, but had a sincerity to him that he wore on his sleeve.

There was just one sneaking suspicion she had regarding the man. How on earth does a funeral parlor have enough money to send their son to this school AND be the top of the food chain. Surely these boys were flooded with money otherwise the attention wouldn’t be as drastic. There were even glares tossed her way as they walked to the next class.

It was nice to have the attention, he had a smooth deep voice that sent her insides into a flurry. That was until they came upon Xiao. The boy was shorter than his tall geo counterpart and crossed his arms at their arrival. He glared at her as Zhongli added another sentence to their conversation. The words fell on deaf ears as Lumine tried to fight back a snarky remark. She had done nothing to earn this glare from him and it was irking her.

“Keep glaring like that and your face will freeze that way,” She blurted out.

“What?” He hissed at her.

“Ah,” Lumine back tracked, she didn’t mean to speak her thoughts like that, “you just look awfully peeved is all,” she decided on. He narrowed his eyes at her.

Day one, mouth already got her in trouble, nice.

They had a standoff for a few moments before Xiao conceded with a huff and turned into the room.

“Don't worry about him, he's weary of newcomers,” Zhongli said from besides her. She looked up to him for reassurance and was once again met with an honest gaze and smile.

“I-” She began to say and stopped to think about it, “I trust you.”

Even if he was lieing, what harm would come of it? She loses a friend she never even had?

Ancient runes was a snooze fest as expected. She sat next to an incredibly ordinary looking girl who should have hissed like a cat when Lumine sat down. It would have made the look she gave her less comical.

But things perked up in Adventuring 101. The class was useless to someone like her. It was basically preaching about basic safety the entire time. Don’t touch pryo slimes, they hurt. Don’t go off fighting electro monsters in the rain, that also hurts. Always have food rations and medical potions on you!

Blah.

She didn’t need this info, but it was a required class. Get a taste of everything before heading off to the college and decide what classifications you want. Stupid rules some adult made to torture the youngins.

It was fifteen minutes into the class. There was a saving grace, she had a seat next to Zhongli. He shared his book with her again and was polite and overly cordial as always. She assumed the class was full with everyone in attendance. There were a few empty desks but students could be sick or the class could have fewer students than desks.

Then HE walked in, opening the door without a care in the world, loudly. There was this beaming, disgustingly fake, smile plastered to him. A girl followed him inside, checking her makeup on a small compact mirror. They seated themselves in the empty spots adjacent to herself and Zhongli.

The teacher scolded him as he walked, but he ignored it with a shrug. His entire demeanor made her want to mop the floor with his pretty face. Just like the boys back home. She made a point to keep her eyes forwards or at the text in front of her. Not wanting to give him any ideas. There was a cold chill crawling up her spine again, he was staring.

The class continued onwards. The teacher quickly dropped the subject of publicly shaming Childe for walking in to class late. They were moving on to something at least slightly interesting she didn’t know too much about. How to read the stars and sun for location and time. It was something she never needed as she stayed close to home.

It was useful to her so she took out her notepad and began to scribble down some text out of the book as she teacher lectured. She made it a few words in before the girl next to Childe giggled in that high pitch way girls do when they are trying to impress a man.

She dared a side glance over to the table and noticed the girl enamored by him. Getting a full view of the back of her head as Childe whispered sweet nothings to her. He sensed her gaze and looked up, making eye contact. She went back to her work before the girl could turn, clearing her throat.

He was testing her; she could feel it. Between yesterday's stare down and this there was no mistaking it.

“Something wrong?” Zhongli asked her in a low whisper.

“Just a little difficult to get work done with so many distractions,” She growled.

“You will grow accustom soon,” He told her. She laughed quietly at his choice of words. Someone needed to remind him he was still a teenager.

The entire period passed with flirtatious whispers and laughs flying.

And not, one. God. Damn. Time, did the teacher say anything to the two culprits. Although something told her Childe was the true mastermind behind the distraction. She tried her best, she really did, but Lumine was never great at keeping her temper in control. Not when it came to completely asinine males making a side show out of a class.

Her pencil lead snapped on her paper.

“Shit,” she whispered.

“It seems you have snapped your lead,” Zhongli murmured. She refrained from calling him captain obvious. There was a chuckle to her right, this time clearly mocking and directed at her, she herself snapped. She turned and with pin point accuracy threw the pencil at her tormentor. The eraser bounced off his forehead, sending the object into an unknown destination in the room.

The smile fell from his features and they traded deadly glares. The girl sitting with him was busying herself cooing over him asking what's wrong. Oblivious to the events that just unfolded. Zhongli of all people fucking laughed.

She turned her glare into a smug grin reading ‘what are you gunna do about it? now shut the hell up’ and turned back to her work. She leaned back and crossed her arms.

“Well played young lady,” Zhongli whispered to her.

The option of fading into the background had vanished.

[phoebehalliwell]

okay but if bianca was already like....5/6/7 before chris was even born, is that the age difference in the "evil world" canon? or is it a weird thing with phoenixes + aging?

i mean,, i can’t think of a reason it wouldn’t be bc like. at that point we are still very much on track for a dark future chris has not made the change necessary to save wyatt as evident by the fact that when bianca drags his ass back to the future it’s still the dark future. so like. if we were to eliminate futureboy!chris from this timeline right now the future would carry on into the dark future where this age gap would still be there, and then obviously it’s still then in the altered/changed/fixed timeline bc like that’s the timeline we’re following. we already saw kid bianca and we saw chris y’know be born and exist. i don’t really wanna tinker with aging for phoenixes bc like. i feel like it just gets difficult defining the rules and figuring out how they apply all that how she ages into the future like this that and the other and then if you’re doing that you also have to take into account how they mentally age bc it doesn’t matter if bianca physically ages slower than chris so like idk they’re both physically 18 at the same time, she’d still mentally have 5 years on him which i feel like the only reason to change the way bianca ages would be to make this age gap less weird and that doesn’t quite do that if anything i feel like it makes it weirder if i were to add anything to the lore with phoenixes & aging it would be something to do with what happens when they die y’know like some “phoenix rising from the ashes schtick” and if i were to do that it would be like okay so this is just the origin myth i have in my head blah blah blah we have our og phoenix who’s a witch in salem and she’s just a normal witch seeing all these witch trials and is like ruh roh and this is an au where they actually like burn witches in salem but also an au where witches actually exist so let’s start there and she’s seeing all these women burned at the stake and idk maybe they got her coven or maybe someone ratted her out she knows the end is nigh so she goes out to seek some mythic phoenix and something something something or other idk she completes three great tasks and earns a phoenix feather and she fuses herself with the phoenix magic (thus giving her the phoenix mark) and then the witch hunters find her and burn her at the stake and uhh that hurts like a motherfucker an she ends up extra crispy and they’re like okay that was fun and idk everyone goes to bed for the night in their little puritan village as our lovely og phoenix’s charred body starts to slowly try to heal itself and basically drags it’s charred skeletal ass into the woods and lays there for three days and three nights as her body slowly starts to reconstitute itself blah blah blah give it a week and she’s basically a full human again and she finds that while she retained basic magic she lost her active powers blah blah blah she swears to get vengeance on those who wronged her and idk stick to the shadows somewhere along the lines she finds she can obtain new powers when she has her daughter (not her first bc she first was burned in the witch trials rip) her daughter is born with the same phoenix mark and no active powers and blah blah blah she becomes really really old as you do when you age something or other she’d like on deaths door and let’s say idk her house is burning down or something so she goes in to save something idk an heirloom or like her great granddaughter and saves her but like dies in the fire but wait what’s this once again a charred skeleton is trying to pull itself back together it’s the original phoenix and she’s now the same age she was when she was first “reborn” from the fire and so the first phoenix i’d say lived for probs a couple centuries just you know self immolate on her deathbed & be born again until she finally like tapped out you know lived a full enough life that she’s like okay this has been fun goodbye fr now But i do not think all phoenixes have this power (which uhh can really only be learned the hard way) i think maybe like three people tops (including our original phoenix) have this rebirth gift the rest like if you burn to death u burn to death end of story but this also then gave the phoenix traditions of a) burning their dead and b) a firewalk to symbolize the final steps into adulthood. and i do think there are some like really extreme crazed phoenixes (is that really the plural? okay google says the plural is phoenix or phoenixes or phoenices which are all fun imo) who do like think they’ve been blessed with this gift but it’s like. it’s all or nothing. you have to actually die in a fire to find out. so like. is it worth it? some people have said yes, but the answer is actually No. Okay All That Being Said yes i’d give bianca this gift bc she is Chosen she’s Special also i love her and think it’s sick as fuck so it’s like. she could have died in a fire when she was like a toddler or something blah blah blah and then let’s say when she was like idk six i guess she was stabbed? for some reason? we’ll say a demon and her mother, knowing that she was born with this gift promptly uhh lit her daughter on fire and then out of the ashes got a lil toddler again then that would put her at the same biological age and relatively closer to the mental age of chris as i image lynn would have wiped bianca’s memory a wee bit after all that But that is like A Lot bianca dying as a kid so i don’t think i’d do All That i’m just keeping them with a slightly under 5 year age gap (bianca’s a sagittarius born in 1999) and just give them the journey of Not knowing each other’s ages to bianca learning she’s like Five Whole Years older than chris and proceeding to tease him for being like a tiny baby child despite chris being like what 21 when he knows her she’s like oh sorry shouldn’t you be like studying for your sat or something? or idk they’ll be watching some movie made in like 2008 and bianca will be like oh didn’t this come out the year you were born? can you even legally drive? (no, he can’t, he does not have a driver’s license) bc like. it’s weird. they bridge the century y’know i think it really freaks her out that he was 2004 bc mentally she’s like okay you should be like 15? 16? but again it’s like i really want they’re relationship to be this slow burn so while they might meet when he’s like freshly 21 and she’s 25 going on 26 they probably won’t start dating for idk like 3-4 years so then they’re like what 25 and 30 which like. idk i don’t think is that weird. it’s like how in university undergrads will date grad students and there’ll be like a four year split but it’s not incredibly weird bc they’re both relatively at the same states in their life but like an undergraduate dating a high schooler is a major red flag bc they are both in insanely different places in their life like bro if ur dropping them off at their parent’s house & then driving back to your apartment you share w three friends like reassess. please. but i think in regards to chris & bianca and their age gap, when they meet they’re both relatively in the same “era” in life (is there where i mention chris is a college drop out bc he is) and when they grow they grow together

[witchpitch]

Carry on + True Blood

fuck true blood show, we ignore it. 

I am not a writer, just a sad uni student who loves vampires but @notcooltate​ made me THINK about Carry On/True Blood AU. 

Again, fuck the show, they made everything so wrong. 

Two years prior vampires around the world have revealed themselves, via television, to the world as actual, and not mythical, beings after the development of a synthetic blood product hat provides adequate sustenance for vampires and therefore does not require them to feed on human blood ( i took it from wikipedia) 

Simon is a waitress in Ebb’s cafe in a small town in Louisiana

He has a grandmother but both his parents died when he was a child

He doesn’t have a lot of friends because everyone thinks he is a weirdo 

and he is 

so it’s the same as in the book. He can read other people’s minds and because of that he wasn’t able to focus in school and blah blah blah now he is a waitress and he actually loves it

Ebb is one of his closest friends and somehow he can’t read her mind 

she is a shapeshifter. her favorite animal to turn into is GUESS yes a goat 

but Si doesn’t know that and when he finds out there are vampires HE IS EXCITED like yeah he is not the only weirdo in the village 

he waits a vampire to visit ebb’s cafe 

and then one day he sees a woman sitting at one of his tables and he knows IMMEDIATELY that she is a vampire 

yes the vampire is penny because fuck Bill 

she was turned a few decades ago so she is relatively a baby 

she moved to simon’s town because it was the smallest and the quietest town in the area and she hates big cities and noise 

when she sees simon her reaction is what the fuck 

he looks annoying 

he is 

he brings her order and sits down and starts to ask all the questions 

she is like bitch i can kill you right here right now 

but she can’t resist him because he asks questions and she knows ANSWERS 

so then he find out that she just moved here and decides it’s his job to show her around 

anyway they are friends now 

I want to write more about that but it’s too much already and i am sorry if my grammar made your eyes bleed! also there is no conflict no murder nothing bad. people are nice and no one wants to use/kill anyone. rainbow, unicorns, flowers, happiness. 

[samesongxox]

Savior: Chapter 2 (Falling Fast)

Summary: (Hellboy 2019) AKA Turning a New Leaf AKA Good Samaritans Need Love Too. The B.P.R.D is tasked to infiltrate a black market creature trafficking ring led by a powerful warlock. Hellboy rescues Phyrra who is found being held hostage, a slave for her magic. He must protect her as she is hunted by her master and his gang of monsters. (AU where Broom isn't dead/Abe wasn't found)

It will be rated M, it will include violence, swearing, smuttiness, all the good things in life.

I've just used an LOTR elven translator for Phyrra's language, I wanted her to start off disoriented enough to revert back to her old language and it was the simplest way I could make that happen but I won't use too much of it.

Also, for those wondering, I wrote down Phyrra into a text to speech and the way her name sounded to me was Pier-Rah, I know with phonetics PH makes the F sound, so saying it like Fear-rah, I think could also be correct.

Disclaimer: Hellboy belongs to Dark Horse Comics/Mike Mignola, I don't own anything except the AU and my OC's.

 Meanwhile, in a corridor not far away…

Running full tilt down this damp, dark and fucking horrible smelling hallway, Hellboy could think of at least 10 other things he wanted to be doing right now instead. He ran round the corner, stood at the end, and waited for the big bastard who was chasing him to come around it. He had no one to blame but himself, for the situation he was in; the creature stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of his target, giving Hellboy the proper momentum to swing his stone hand into the stomach of an ogre.

When dear ol’ dad had said in his usually chastising tone: 'This isn't some simple run and gun mission Hellboy! Our operatives have intelligence that says this ring holds over hundreds of different species and creatures!" He hated when his father looked at him like that, the disapproving glint in his eyes. 'We have no idea what you could find in there, this requires a lighter touch than you're used to.'

The argument had ended the usual way they did, Hellboy stomping away petulantly, ignoring the protects from Ben about his father being right, as always, blah blah blah. Sometimes he wished they never recruited the Major, sure he had chilled out considerably since the whole Nimue debacle, he even accompanied Hellboy and Alice to the local bars on occasion; he never joined in the karaoke, but he gave Hellboy a run for his money in a round of pool.

"You're gonna die today demon!" The ogre gloated, grabbing Hellboy by his jacket. Hellboy grimaced at the stench of its breath, being thrown against the wall was preferable. He crumpled to the floor, shaking off a daze. Charging towards him, Hellboy saw his advantage and swept the creature's legs, bringing it to the ground. Hellboy stood up and brought his arm down on the Ogre's head, rendering it unmobile with efficiency.

It wasn't that he didn't agree with his dad, Hellboy thought, shaking the goop left behind from the head of the Ogre. He knew he dealt better in the aggressive tactics used by B.P.R.D, there was a reason the times they needed to attend some charity function or government funded mixer, Alice accompanied the Professor. She had turned into quite the little agent his Alice Monaghan and Hellboy didn't care for any of that bureaucratic shit anyways. And since the incident, he had been trying his best to see his father's side of things more often.

Hellboy didn't want to admit to anyone he was scared.

He was still had nightmares about it, the sight of his father lying dead had been a shock to his system. For so long he had held so much anger towards the Professor, it coming to a head at the knowledge Lady Hatton had given him. It really sucked to find out your purpose in life was to bring about the apocalypse, and Hellboy was still dealing with the news being something he feared for so long, meanwhile that wasn't even the worse bit.

Still Baba Yaga's curse loomed on his shoulders, he didn't know the details of the curse, he sure as shit didn't want to go back there and ask the witch.

Professor Trevor Bruttenholm was pronounced dead, for 12 whole minutes.

Hellboy thought it was morbid when the agents that rushed in brought a defibrillator, ripping the shirt off of his father's body, placing the charges on his chest. Hellboy protested greatly, bring held back in a surprisingly strong embrace by Ben. So when his father's eyes popped open, to say Hellboy was surprised was a great understatement.

Now things were back to normal, well as normal as there dynamic had been before. Dad always there with a less than kind word with nothing but good intentions towards his 'son'.

The presence of Alice and Ben on the team had cooled them both down considerably, the workload now sectioned off between the four of them, and someone was always there to get in the middle of them and be the voice of reason.

It wasn't like they held interviews for the kind of team that they were, it just kind of happened. Alice was insistent on sticking around with her new found abilities, wishing to hone them, be able to research in the vast codex of ancient knowledge B.P.R.D possessed, but Hellboy knew that what Alice wanted more than anything was somewhere to belong again, and she did at the B.P.R.D.

Major Ben Daimo, after being caught with his curse of the Were-Jaguar, simply realized he was with much better company than M11.

Hellboy, having wiped his arm clean of the gore, took about three steps down the hallway when a "Stop!" Made him growl in exasperation. He turned and was just as surprised when they arrived at this giant fortress like building, this place just kept getting fucking weirder.

Hellboy had never seen a Centaur before, he could check this off the list. The half-man half...appeared to be …. A ram or a bison or something if the horns were any indication. 

Hellboy was being charged at again, this time with a much quicker adversary. Hellboy was at a disadvantage of only having two legs as he turned tail, pun intended, and ran once again from a foe.

These were some The Shining level of creepiness hallways, Hellboy deduced, being chased by a Centaur, he called for backup but they had all conveniently split up in the warehouse; but it was hard to hear oneself think in that veritable zoo of mythical creatures. Father was not lying, this Warlock was bad news bears.

The Centaur was rapidly gaining on Hellboy, it was inevitable when he felt himself being lifted by his tail, rude pal, and tossed him into the wall. Hellboy hated being thrown around like some ragdoll, it didn't help that the Centaur obviously had more weight to his throw than the Orge, and Hellboy was left staring at the twinkling lights above him, knowing he was gonna hurt in the morning.

Rhys huffed, adrenaline breaking out into his coat in a thick sheen of sweat. He picked up the currently incapacitated creature and examined him. It seemed to be some sort of demon or other. Rhys was disgusted at the creature to see his shaved forehead where horns should be, Rhys prided himself on his own, and considered any creature that would try and hide his features like that weak and embarrassed at his own lineage.

He threw the impostor creature onto his back and took off in hurried clomps to Elias' office, needing to let his master know about this invasion. Where did this thing come from? Rhys called for Mordecai begrudgingly, but was left with a true silence that meant he was not hiding in some corner somewhere. He was most definitely already with Elias.

His suspicions were correct as he entered the masters domain, seeing the two figures speaking in a quick, long dead language Rhys didn't understand. He hated when the two of them did that, he knew he was out of the loop for a lot of things, but it wasn't like they had to rub his face in it, he was a powerful creature, stronger than both of them combined. He couldn't think like that though, even in his darkest thoughts; he was owned by Elias for the rest of his life, nothing could be done to change that.

What was worse was that Elias didn't even acknowledge Rhys had stepped in the room, or that he had dropped an intruder at the front of his desk. Almost as if he already knew.

"There are intruders in our home Rhys. Go with Mordecai to holdings and deal with them accordingly, leave this with me."

Those were the only words spoken to him, Rhys nodded gravely trotting out the door, knowing at once he had messed up allowing whoever these people were to break so easily into the property.

Elias' eyes trailed down to the pathetic looking creature at his feet, he was having the most awful deja vu. Taking in the tail, shaven horns and red skin, Elias knew who was breaking into his home. B.P.R.D. This had to be the Cambion known as Hellboy.

Elias growled, this meant serious trouble. How did he have such rotten luck, his dejected attitude continued as the beast stirred on his floor. He had to get ahold of this situation.

Hellboy regained consciousness quickly, one minute he was in a haze of pain, the next he flew up from the floor so quickly he thought he'd blackout. Hissing in a deep breath, Hellboy touched his stomach gingerly, diagnosing himself a cracked rib. Standing in front of another mythical nutcase no doubt, Hellboy took in the room.

This dude was seriously fucked in the head. He thought the Osiris Club was bad enough mounting giant heads on their walls, but this room had that one beat clean. Wall to wall the heads of creatures were hung, along with various ferocious animals were on proud display. Dead fairies and pixies beside butterflies and beetles pinned in glass coffins. He realized he was standing on the fur of a Cerberus, Hellboy gasped, stepping ungracefully away from the awful sight. Hellboy glanced at a bowl filled with what looked like mints, and gagged to see that they were teeth.

"Goblin Teeth. A little hobby of mine. As you can see, I am an extensive collector." Hellboy hated him already. The smooth, calm voice, the power he emanated even behind the desk, this was the warlock, no doubt. The owner of this little auction house.

"A demon, how quaint." Elias scoffed in the most condisenting fashion, looking the epitome of ease, fiddling with the golden staff adorned with amethyst from the dwarven royalty. A present for dealing with their little dragon problem so long ago, when species of all kinds were allowed to walk on earth. A time he sorely missed.

"Half-demon, buddy. Get your facts right." Raising his arm to bust the desk, Hellboy was unsuspecting of the staff being more than just for show, he was proven quite mistaken.

A blast of magic so focused hit him, Hellboy was thrown out the room. The magic was a tidal wave of white-hot wind that blasted multiple doors opened in the hallway, tearing wallpaper from the walls. Hellboy was stopped only by the brick at the end of the hallway. Living an indent of his body, Hellboy groaned and peeling himself off the wall. He was bleeding from his head, he realized swiping at the blood that dripped into his eye. Probably concussed.

At the door to his office stood Elias, arms crossed with the staff perched on his shoulder, he didn't have a care in the world. This demon was nothing compared to a being of magic such as himself, and it was laughable the demon got back up, as if he had a chance from this distance.

"Are you as dumb as you are strong, demon? My name is Elias, this is my home and you have most aggressively broken into it. I plan on taking the necessary steps to protect my property."

Hellboy collapsed in half real agony, gritting his teeth, listen to this asshole posture on like some sort of movie villan. Hellboy tried to shake the pain, biting his cheek to focus himself, distracting the warlock enough to grab for his weapon. He took a deep breath and with a reserve of strength he had, pulled and shot off all 6 rounds in the chamber, a special design by the eggheads in the labs, with barbed edges that exploded on contact, shredding the flesh of whatever unfortunate being was on the receiving end of his little gift.

One bullet would of incapacitated him, maybe all 6 of them was an overkill, if the gruesome sight of the warlock gasping wetly from a pile of guts. Better safe than sorry Hellboy always said. Elias attempted to speak, choking on the mess in his mouth, and his eyes slipped closed. An odd, peaceful aura enveloped the area around him, the half-demon went to investigate.

He heard the sound of agents arriving on the scene, there voices calling for him from afar. Obviously brought by the sound of his gun going off.

Hellboy just seemed to keep getting distracting in this place however, for no sooner had he begun to walk towards the body, when a lump on the floor of one of the rooms caught Hellboy's attention.

It was a girl. With a towel haphazardly wrapped around her. Hellboy turned away sharply as his eyes automatically glanced at the slight curve of her breasts peeking from the top with her slow breathing. He didn't mean to do that, it just happened, but Hellboy was left surprisingly winded. Embarrassed.

"Uh.. Alice? You out there?" He called desperately out to the woman in the hallway, distracting himself by looking at the room. It was simple, compared to the rest of the place; stone walls and wooden furniture, a large four poster bed with white sheets. Nothing caught his eye of any interest, and he felt his eyes pulling towards the girl on the floor. Aw Crap. He reasoned he just felt bad if she was injured to just keep her in this position. He gave one last attempt at an "Alice!" Before he turned completely back to the girl.

She was young, that was his first thought. She was petite but she wasn't a little girl, her body, small but obvious curves were any indication. Hellboy felt his stomach clench in horror as the towel slipped further as he came forward, as if it had a mind of its own and was torturing him for looking. Awkwardly one-handed, he knotted the front of the towel more securely as carefully as he could, if his knuckles brushed her skin, he didn't think about it.

Finally finished his difficult task, Hellboy glanced at her head, noticing the long upward slopes of the tips of her ears peeking out from her hair, an elf. She also had some of the strangest markings Hellboy had ever seen, gold swirl like tattoos covered her body, on her face all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes, in an intricate, almost tribal fashion.

Hellboy glanced up to see a large robe hanging from a hook and shot up like a rocket, grabbing for it grateful for his find; he felt very guilty for continuing to just crouch here and look at her, he felt like a real pervert.

It also occurred to him he never even tried to wake her up. Well he had to deal with the towel falling off, he reasoned with himself, he knew in her position he would be very unhappy to wake up like that. It was much easier to get the robe on her, the distraction of the towel dealt with, and Hellboy felt a kind of accomplishment tying the sash at her waist; He had never had to play caretaker to someone. The whole time she did not awaken, left in some sort of unconscious state, Hellboy gently gathered her up in his arms easily and checked the back of head, pulling the long tawny strands apart, vaguely thinking about their softness, but mostly looking for blood.

Jostling her caused the elf to groan, Hellboy was taken aback when he pushed her away to see her eyes opened. They were very pretty, Hellboy thought stupidly as she glanced around blind in his clutch, before locking her gaze on the one who held her up.

"Cin're hi na rad-nin?" Her voice was a light questioning tone, her breaths quick and pained. Hellboy didn't know how to reply to her, he was struck dumber by her being awake than when he could move about her without that icy gaze focused on him it seemed.

"Uhh...Whatever you say, sweetheart." Hellboy blatantly realized the endearment he mumbled out, but didn't give it much thought, after all it seemed they were speaking two different languages, literally. He really needed to get her out of here, if not to get her checked for a possible concussion but just because this room was creeping him out, it was too clean, to… Much like a prison cell if he was being honest with himself.

"Mui mellon Binx?" At least she wasn't freaking out in his hold, cause she's still weak from the blast, he chided himself. He stood up and was about to cross the threshold with the elf in his arms, she kept saying something: blinks? When he heard Alice down the hall, her voice getting rapidly closer.

"Were you callin' me HB? I thought I could hear-Oh!" Hellboy felt himself flustered as the medium appeared in the doorway, the girl quicker than Hellboy could react to, jumped out of his arms, only to cower behind him, further placing Hellboy in one of the most awkward situations he could recall.

The girl was obviously hurt however, as no sooner had she hid herself behind Hellboy that her clutch had weakened and Hellboy could see her going down again, barely managing to catch her by her waist, again thanking his thinking in getting her into the robe as he pulled her once again into his arms.

Alice watched the whole interaction with a little surprise and much glee, tickled positively pink by Hellboy playing prince charming it seemed, saving this damsel. Alice thanked her internal romantically inclined side, one that she rarely showed, it was hard being the only female on the team at times. She tried to have a friendship with some of the agents, but the women in the B.P.R.D were professionals through and through, not a whole lot of interest in the fun times she could get into with HB, sometimes even Ben, or Major Stick up his Arse, as Alice sometimes called him, always with affection.

"Who's this then?"

"I don't know. I was dealing with Stinky, Hairy and Moe out there and then I just found her. She's an elf." He finished lamely,

Swift as a hummingbird, a creature the same size flew into the room. The ball of light honed onto Hellboy's face, making contact with his cheek. Hellboy stumbled back and looked at the attacker. A Pixie. 

Between the Ogre, the Centaur and the Warlock, he was grateful for the size of this one. The thing was speaking a quick lilting pixie speak that Hellboy never understood, they had a textbook of Fae languages back at headquarters, he just never got around to reading it.

The Pixie seemed to know the Elf, she slowly took stock of the girl before pillowing herself on the chest of the unconscious girl, glancing up at Hellboy in a wary gaze.

"I found the little thing down the hall, think she knows her?" Alice chuckled.

"Let's get her to the helicopter. None of the others were put into rooms like this, she must be important." Alice was already at the doorway when she turned around, a typical cheeky Alice expression on her face. "You handle carrying her hero?"

Hellboy snorted derisively at the comment, turning away from Alice with her intense gaze. He ignored the curious gaze of the Agents and met up with Ben in the hallway, the Major raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Don't ask." Hellboy said simply, not wishing to explain the whole crazy turn of events that transpired since they arrived here.

"You guys get that warehouse cleared out?"

"Yes they're loaded into the trucks, on there way to headquarters. It's gonna take weeks to catalogue all these species. Hope you're ready for some paperwork." Hellboy knew Ben was joking, even to the outside it seemed like no humour was coming from the man. You just had to know him enough.

"How dare you touch her!" Hellboy jumped at the screech that came from the puddle that was Elias in position on the floor of his office, he thought for sure he had died. "Unhand her demon, she is not yours!"

Hellboy didn't scare easily, but he would be lying if he said the way Elias was looking at him wasn't causing goosebumps to break out on his arm. It was half crazed, desperate. Very different from the cool, assured master he was not 10 minutes ago.

"Phyrra wake up!" That must of been her name, Phyrra. It suited her, sweet, gentle and exotic, her name sounded like the purr of a cat, Hellboy always liked cats. He didn't like the way Elias was saying it though, the ownership plain, like he was commanding her to wake up.

"So I guess I was right, eh? She important to you? Well you won't mind if we just take her for awhile do ya? Thanks mate," Alice took the warlocks sudden invalent state as an opportunity to tease.

Phyrra also took the moment as a great opportunity to wake back up, as if even in her injured state, she was conditioned to listen to Elias' demands. She glanced around in even more confusion than the first time Hellboy watched her wake up. The warlock brightened at the sight of Phyrra awake, his voice quickly turning into butter, Hellboy cringed at the way he spoke to her.

"Phyrra, pet. Come and help me."She seemed to understand her name, if nothing else. She fixed her gaze on Elias as if she didn't know him from any other stranger currently in the room. Everyone seemed to be waiting for her to make some kind of decision, why none of them could really gather, but they didn't have to wait long for a response.

Phyrra didn't listen, what she did instead was wrap her arms around Hellboy's neck and bury herself in the crook of where his neck met shoulder, refusing to look at anything else; Hellboy was left with an elven woman clinging to him. The Pixie flew displeased at losing the perch on her elf.

"Tul-nin awaui o hi near." Hellboy involuntarily shivered at the obvious plea was whispered delicately in his ear. He didn't know what she was saying, but he wanted nothing more than to get her away from Elias fiery gaze, which was getting darker by the second.

"Binx! Don't you let them take her! I'll rip your fucking wings off myself!" Everyone looked on as the Pixie flew over to the warlock, and Hellboy couldn't stop the bark of laughter as the tiny creature, now Hellboy realized what Phyrra had been saying back in her room. Binx threw herself into Elias' forehead, he grunted at the contact, then glared at the tiny thing spitting no doubt terrible insults in its language.

Elias gasped in hysteria as Hellboy began to walk away from him. Getting out a last: "You're going to regret this you devil!" Before Ben did him a service of tasing him, silencing the man before his head popped clean off in his fury.

At that moment, Rhys and about a group of 20 creatures: Goblins and Ogres mostly, crowded into the space, some climbing over the backs of others to fit into the room.

Chaos broke. Fires were shot from the various machines carried by the Agents, tearing through the creatures scrambling to reach them.

"HB, the window!" The gazes of the three main team members individually sought out the broken window to their left, Alice shooting off a quick round from her pistol, cleaning the rest of the glass from the opening, before jumping off confidently. Even in the moment, Hellboy recognized he would have to tell her how badass she'd been in that moment. Before jumping himself out the four story window.

He broke his fall with his body, hoping this was the last time he was going to hit a hard surface today, he didn't know if he could take another one. Hellboy quickly checked to make sure he also broke Phyrra fall, it would be a shame to go through all this to end up squishing her himself. The trio ran towards the helicopter, the blades whorrling signaling its readiness for take-off.

Ben was clipping off the goblins crawling out of the window they just vacated as Alice and Hellboy dealt with the new cargo. Ben jumped in the last minute, yelled to the pilot to get them the fuck out of there and into the air they ascended.

Safely in the chopper, Hellboy's arms felt rather empty after Phyrra was placed carefully into the seat beside him, Alice taking over and strapping the girl in as her head lolled in delirium, she seemed to be coming to again, but only got those glacier depths of her eyes opened before the slumped again. Alice sandwiched her in between the two of them, placing Phyrra's head against Hellboy's arm and he looked at his friend in question.

"What? You won't mind watching to make sure her head doesn't move too much, would you?"

Alice snickered in delight at the cautioning way HB looked at her in the moment, as if begging her to stop teasing him so, which only spurred her on even more he had to realize. 

They didn't know anything about this girl, but Hellboy was obviously taken with her.

Alice had been with the B.P.R.D for almost a year now, she'd never seen Hellboy act this way before. Hellboy was a badass motherfucker, he drank hard and fought even harder. It wasn't irony one of his arms was made out of stone, he was tough, inside and out.

That didn't mean Alice wasn't aware of his sensitive side, he saved her as a baby, she owed HB her life. The fact he was a loyal friend was just a bonus. He loved the Professor, Alice could see that plain as day, they were father and son to her, actual parentage didn't matter. Even then, he wasn't exactly the kind of friend you had long soul searching conversations with, except those times one of them got too into their feelings, and too into a bottle of tequila.

So Alice knew HB had the capacity to love, that she was certain. But as far as she knew, Hellboy had never even attempted to go out on a date before, she saw how the female agents of B.P.R.D looked at him, he was a pure specimen of a man. Muscle and stoicism, half-demon be damned.

Alice had asked Lloyd one night, who had been working there for ten years, if Hellboy ever dated anyone or anything, she wasn't gonna discriminate. Agent Reese had asked her in reply if they were an item, on their own date of all times! Alice was annoyed and had answered the same way she always did to the inept question. Disgusting! Like if I wanted to fuck my own brother! Which was correct, but she didn't think she'd see Lloyd again. Lately she had her eye on Agent Colter, she liked men of all shapes and sizes, but it was the blondes viking types that made her weak, which Colter fit to a tee.

Alice tried to slow the matchmaker in her head, immediately writing their names together in the notebook of her mind. First the girl had to wake up.

-

Elias opened his eyes slowly, feeling the pain immediately. His body was twisted in a most uncomfortable position and as he looked down he realized in a daze his leg was broken. On instinct he called out for Phyrra, before the recent events came back to the front of his memory. She left him. He did nothing but care for her, dress her in the finest things, held her to the highest standard above his advisors and this was how she thanked him?

First Lazarus sends him some would be assassin, and now to have lost his most precious trophy? His Phyrra? Elias felt helpless, something he hadn't felt for many centuries, it was maddening. It simply would not do.

So in his awful, disoriented thoughts, he didn't take notice of the Vampire and the Centaur stepping towards him, one expression of dispassion, one of stunned concerns.

"Master, drink from me." Elias wild eyes swung to the undead man, not for the first time Elias was grateful towards Mordecai, his oldest companion. He sucked in the old blood in thick gulps, feeling it buzz through his system, he will heal much quicker than normal, although his old friends blood did speeden his recovery, it was Phyrra who had the most wonderful touch for mending wounds and broken bones. What to do about Phyrra? It was quite simple Elias didn't have to think for a second about it.

He would get her back.

She will learn, he would teach her, as he always did, the hard lesson he had himself long ago been made perfectly aware of, that she was born to be his pet. That her life before him, the loss, the pain, the agonizing loneliness he knew she felt was because his story began the same. He was meant to teach her everything there was to know about life, about love.

Distracted, he heard Mordecai explain the lost of his inventory, but Elias heard none of it.

Elias instead, felt himself seeth at the memory of her in the demons arm. He would take great pleasure in harming it, peeling the skin from its arms for even daring to touch his Phyrra, he wouldn't stop till he got to bone. Yes, the demon, the whole B.P.R.D, were going to pay greatly for playing with him.

fin

Translations:

1)"Cin're hi na rad-nin?" (you're here to find me?)

2)"Mui mellon Binx?" (My friend Binx?)

3) "Tul-nin awaui o hi near." (Bring me away from this place)

[sarah--writes-blog]

Shedding Season (Commission)

A/N: @unmeimiru commissioned me for this one! This is based on the Snakes and Horses AU by @polarspaz ! There isn’t too much of an intro explaining the entire situation, so if you wanna know more, go check them out!

There wasn’t much to be said about the transformation because the paladins really didn’t know much. One moment, they were fighting the Galra flagship, and the next they were hit with a beam of oddly-colored quintessence, and they were, well...mythical.

That being said, it was hard at first. But adjustments were made, the paladins adapted, and a new standard of normal came into play.

That lasted a nice long week.

Keith and his naga body seemed to be having the most troubles. He became secluded (more so than usual), he stopped eating as much, he even started snapping and nearly biting those who annoyed him. After a quick group meeting, it was decided that perhaps Lance should talk to him.

He found the Red Paladin locked up in the showers, hot water filling the room with steam that fogged the mirrors and windows. Based on how the walls seemed to sweat with moisture, he'd been in here a really long time. A little too long for his normal brooding shower.

"Hey, Keith? Buddy? Your jack-off session is going a little long this time, the rest of us need a turn."

That was certainly one way to draw him out. "I'm not jacking off!" he shouted, making a frustrated noise as something fell to the ground. "Fuck!"

"I'm not sure how much hot water the castleship can hold, but I'm pretty sure you're using it all up."

"It's a spaceship and also a castle and also a huge weapon, I think it's fine. Just leave me alone for a bit."

So maybe it was also a brooding shower. Lance sighed and decided to make himself comfortable on the steamy floor. The tiles weren't good on his knobby knees, so he flopped over as best he could without cracking his back. "Are you gonna make me do the Shiro talk?"

"...the Shiro talk?"

"You know-" Lance put on his best Shiro impression, "'You're equally as valuable as the rest of us and you're a great paladin and I'm gonna be your father figure. Blah blah blah patience means focus blah blah blah-'"

"It's patience yields focus. And I don't need that talk again, not from you at least."

Lance started making himself a little support out of towels. "Okay, so what do you need from me?"

Keith went quiet for a long time, and Lance was patient about it. When he finally shut off the water, Lance perked up. "So...you know the whole transformation thing happened?"

"What? I transformed?" he tapped a hoof on the tile, "I didn't even notice."

"I thought you were trying to help."

"Sorry, continue."

"Well...you know how I get colder now? And how Hunk hoards things and all the new stuff?"

Lance was getting a bit impatient, but he nodded. "Uh-huh."

"...snakes shed, Lance."

Keith heard restrained laughter hiding in towels and felt his cheeks burn. "It's not funny! I-I can't even see, Lance!"

The centaur immediately stopped laughing. "Wait...you can't see?"

"No! There's like...dead skin or some film over my eyes, and I haven't eaten in days and I just wanna go hide and everything itches!"

Lance rose from his spot on the ground, trying desperately not to slip on the wet ground. "Well, I know a thing or two about dead skin. Maybe I could help you?"

"It's a lot of skin, Lance. It's disgusting."

"It can't be that bad, Keith. And I just made up some of that Altean face scrub Allura uses, I'm sure I can let you borrow some. Come on, man. At least let me assess the situation?"

Keith blinded palmed for the lock on the shower, struggling to get it open without his direct line of sight. When he finally got it open, Lance tried not to flinch away. "Okay, that....is a lot of dead skin...shit..."

It was like someone had dunked Keith in a layer of kindergarten glue and let him dry out, then pushed him into a pool. White-gray flakes of skin covered his entire snakey body, except where the water had doused him to make the skin transparent and stick to his body again. Quite honestly, it was both Lance’s and every employee at Lush’s nightmare. He was about to make some quip about the mullet producing extra dandruff when he saw Keith’s eyes.

The normally piercing blue-gray was glossed over, not unlike a lizard or a frog with a second pair of eyelids for going underwater. Underneath the film, Lance could see Keith’s eyes darting back and forth in a panic, trying to focus on something in the hazy blur. The Blue Paladin kept the dandruff comment to himself.

“Shit buddy, that looks real bad...” he muttered instead, “I don’t know much about snakes, but we can at least get your human parts cleaned up. And I don’t think this shower is gonna do you much more good. Hop on, let’s get you an exfoliating scrub.”

With Lance producing extra body heat from his horse body, and Keith needing extra warmth, the two developed an agreement only a few days after the transformation. Keith could lay on top of Lance and soak up his heat so long as he didn’t make any broody or mean comments while he was there. It was a work in progress, but Lance had definitely gotten used to the extra weight on his second back. So he carried the wet  Keith back to his room with no problem, hoofs clopping along the castleship floor.

The first part of the skin removal process was done in relative silence. The first thing Lance did was gently pull the film off Keith’s eyes, giving him a big smile when he could finally see again. “Alright, there you go. You can get back to glaring at us soon.”

Keith blinked a few times before doing exactly that. “Just help me get the rest of this off.”

Lance laughed and got to work. There wasn’t nearly enough of the Altean scrub to get all of Keith’s body, but they focused on the key areas where it was needed and improvised the rest. It took a lot of grit, elbow grease, and scrubbing, but at the end of the day, Keith was clean and covered in shiny new scales that glimmered under the castleship lights.

“Well, I think that’s as much as I can do for you,” Lance said as he swept the last bit of skin into a dustpan with his tail, “But you gotta put lotion on every night if you don’t want next time to be as bad.”

Keith nodded, still admiring his shimmering arms. “I will. That was brutal.” He looked up with the most sincerity Lance had seen in a long time, “Thank you.”

The centaur blushed and scuffed a hoof on the ground. “It’s not a problem. It’s not like I could bear seeing your dead scales suffer any longer. You’re lucky I didn’t come at you with a pumice stone.”

“I...don’t know what that is. But I appreciate it. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Lance wasn’t expecting to have the favor returned. “Well...I think there’s been a rock stuck in my back hoof for a day or so now.”

“You didn’t ask anyone to get it out earlier?”

“I thought it would go away on its own!”

Keith scoffed and took Lance’s hind leg in his hands, “You really know nothing about animals, do you?”

[funniesandboxes]

Judy at the academy, she goes to bed but when she wakes up, she’s not in the same bad, also there’s a fox next to her, she jumps out of bed, and notice that she’s 8 months pregnant and looks around, and sees photos of her and the fox, it seems she's missing 5 years of her past, (the idea is she talks to friends and family, to get her past back, and i thought of different writers write a different animals, that way it look like it's being seen from that animal perspective)

OMG, this like half reminds me of those Hallmark Christmas movies where characters are magically sent to another life (or a potential for their life) by some mythical Christmas for as like a lesson or wish.  

But yeah, Judy is working hard at the academy and like really starting to excel in her classes and such.  Basically starting to surpass everyone in her class.  And most mammals are like fine with that, because like there is no point in getting upset.  Of course there are some, that are going on their ways to put her down.

There is a group of like three cadets from like long lines of ZPD officers pestering and harassing her at every little turn.   Judy for the most part ignores them.  However one night their talking about how Judy’s going to be too busy having litter and litter to actually be a cop in the future, and Judy shuts them down by saying she doesn’t exactly want a family.  (Which is like a half lie because she likes the idea of having a family of her own, but she’s like not going to crumble into desperation if she doesn’t get one ever.  Like she’s just going to let life sort it out for her and focus on getting a career first.)  But then the group just takes their new bait of Judy not wanting a family at all and run with it.

Basically that night when Judy goes to sleep, she’s really not in the greatest mood, and she’s have wishing she never said she didn’t want to have a family of her own, and blah blah blah. Eventually through she falls asleep.

But when she ways up, she finds herself staring at an alarm clock, in a room that is not the female bunks of the academy.  She glancing around the room without moving, before she hears something shift behind her and she rolls over slowly to see.  There she finds a male red fox with their face had burrowed under the pillows and like very lightly snoring.

Judy squeaks and tries to scramble away sharply, but ends up falling off the side of the bed with a loud thump.  Which caused the fox to wake up with a start, and being like in  “I’m up, what’;s wrong,” sort of panic.  Eventually he’s crawls over to look at her over the edge of the bed, blinking down at her confused.

Before he can open his mouth to ask her something, Judy sprang away, loudly knocking something off the dresser she ran into.  The fox doesn’t move in like surprised, and he’s just staring at her.  Then Judy loudly demands to know where she is and who he is, and like why his in the bed.

The fox just blinks at her for a moment, like really confused.  So Judy starts to demand again that he tell her want is going on, and he quickly springs out of bed, hushing her.  Like “Alright, alright I’ll tell you, just be quiet you’ll wake the triplets, and I just spent two hours last night getting them back to sleep” and so he starts to tell who he is.  Nicholas Wilde, her husband, remember, and she’s at home in their apartment in their bedroom where they sleep every night….and wow that really was a knock on the last night wasn’t it.

Judy blinks at him confused, but figures the whole thing is just like some really vivid dream, and like maybe she should just play along.  So she nods slowly and is like “oh yeah, sorry I just have a crazy dream last night.”   Nick is just kind of cheerily accepts it after a while and wanders off out the door, grumbling about work and breakfast stuff.

Judy kind of goes through her morning routine to get ready, and she gets dress in like a police uniform, and inches out towards the kitchen where it smells like food, only to hear a baby cry, and Nick’s like to busy cursing at eggs he’s burning because he was too busy reading the paper and drinking coffee.  So Judy goes to the cries, which are in the room next to the bedroom she was in, and she finds it to be a nursery with like three little cribs.  Each with a little bunny kit inside, two of which are just waking up.

And for a moment, she is like horrified, trying to figure out if they are hers, but that doesn’t really explain the fox husband, and she doesn’t really remember having them at all.  But feels cruel to just leave them crying while she stares, and it wasn’t like she didn’t know what to do.  So she changes all three kits and puts them in little day outfits carries them out the kitchen, where Nick is just like “Breakfast is done, I got to jump in the shower’ and is gone.  Leaving Judy to just watch the babies still all confused.  But she feed and cares for them any way, despite just wanting to bolting out the whole apartment and never come back.

But then she notices the date on the newspaper on the counter, and finding it to be 5 years in the future.  Which just makes her more confused.  Then Nick comes out to the bedroom in a police uniform and she’s even more confused (because there wasn’t a fox on the ZPD)

Basically she has to go through the day faking that she knows what is going on, while learning what has been going on in the last five years.  And she’s trying to figure out if there is a way back, or if it’s memory lost (which really doesn’t seem to be the case) Until she realizes she really wants the little family has he with Nick, and Nick’s this great guy and partner.  And like if this is her future it’s like completely totally okay and worth it putting up with some jerks at the academy. And like sitting at the table with Nick filling out another adoption application from is great, and she’s amazingly comfortable just marking for fox kits.

Then the next morning she wakes back up at the academy, and is just like reinvigorated to kick the groups trails at everything.

(Sorry I changed the idea a little, because adoption au is my jam!)