#and it’s helped regrow/fill out my eyebrows too

[frmulcahy]

*gently strokes my peach fuzz sideburns* 🥰

[roselyn-writing]

In this mini-series, Aliyaa healed Goro to help her Kill Kotal, just something my brain comes up with when I heard a song lol 😂.

In the Kuatan Palace;

Goro, Sitting alone in his throne room, his father is dead because of Kotal Kahn, and most of his generals too, He is dishonored and disheartened because of his torn arms, he can’t rule now, he can’t do anything. He has no brother to rule on his behalf because he killed him a long time ago.

His mother is long dead, and so is his family, He wanted revenge against Kotal Kahn. Goro’s heart is full of pain and sadness. Looks like the prince of pain is filled with pain himself.

But, that won’t be for long, because the dark one had listened to his pleas.

“Fret no more, I am here,” the voice of a woman came off

“Who in the ten hells are you? And how did you get here undetected?” Goro asked, With malice in his tone.

“None of this matters, I’m here to help you,” Aliyaa replied, offering help.

“You? Help me? Hah!” Goro mocked, he can’t move his arms because they are gone. He badly wanted to give her a gesture of dismissal.

“Don’t you wanna to kill Kotal?” She cajoled, completely ignoring him and his sexism.

This caught him off guard, “ you know Kotal? How do you know him!” He demanded, while cocking his eyebrow.

“Yes, I know him but, How I know him is none of your concern” She replied, but refused to tell him how she knows him.

“Why would I want the help of a woman?” He sneered,

Aliyaa didn’t respond, But, she chuckles a bit, then her chuckles turn into scary laughter, which made Goro confused and nervous. Completely insulted by her “reply”.

“You laugh because you feel threatened!” He snarled at her, in a vain attempt to silence her.

*music plays*

“Threatened? By an armless Shokan?” She taunted him, “Let us not forgot who lost against Kotal!” She reminded sternly,

“If it weren’t for me, maybe think what if? You would still be here, just a sad old tale, disfigured and shamed, a mourning mess, all because YOU lost!” She says in a sing-song tone, in the last part, she points her finger his face, (yes she can sing!) 🎤

As she was singing, she was walking slowly to him, folding both of her hands together.

Goro was speechless because he didn’t expect she replied to him by singing, (his reaction Dafuq wrong with her 🤣🤣😂) he said nothing, while he is sitting on his throne, he is thinking, it is a good way to be healed and regain his shokan pride and honour, She seems powerful, a great ally for his cause.

“I’m listening to you,” he finally agreed, he is firmly looking at her, but her face is still shadowed by the darkness of his castle.

“Good!” She muttered, With a snap of her finger, his four arms re-grow back, flesh and bones mended back together, his veins regrow in them, and his heart pumps the blood into them. Feeling a rush of power washed over him.

Goro was astonished by this, he must admit she is powerful and he must repay the debt, he is indebted to her for healing him. But, at the same time, he doesn’t want his people to see him, indebted to stranger women out of nowhere. He has mixed emotions about this. But he will repay the debt. Anything means possible.

“Now! Are you in?” She asked while smiling at him, She read his mind, and she heard his thoughts of agreement and satisfaction.

“Yes,” he simply answered.

Now that his honor is restored and his arms are back, he can’t wait to kill the usurper, Kotal.

This is the first chapter of this mini-series (darkness and muscles)

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Three

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1740

Warnings: Nosy (and well-meaning) friends acting like nosy siblings, angst, bad language words

A/N: After I originally posted this chapter on AO3, I got some comments that exacerbated the beginnings of a year long depression. Please be kind. I intended this chapter to come across as the gang being like siblings...always being in each other’s business. Is there a breach of privacy? Yes, but without the ill-intent. 

DO NOT copy or replicate without permission

Bucky clutched his phone in his flesh hand as he made his way down a long hallway to the communal kitchen and eating area. A soft, crooked smile rested at his lips as he entered the space. Natasha and Sam were sitting at opposite ends of the rectangular table separating the kitchen from the lounge, enjoying a late breakfast. Steve was at a kitchen counter fiddling with the Keurig machine. He pulled another mug from the cupboard when he saw Bucky approach. “Mornin’, Buck. Sleep well?”

Bucky’s grin broadened as he leaned his backside against the countertop. “I did, actually. Thanks for asking,” he answered, looking to his phone at the incoming text.

(Y/N) Would you rather have skin that changes color based on your emotions or tattoos appear all over your body, depicting what you did the day before?

He missed the way Sam and Nat looked at each other in suspicion at his answer to Steve. He was too busy pressing the keys on his touch-screen.

Bucky The tattoos would be awkward, speaking from a male’s perspective, so I think color changing would be better. Not by much, though.

Bucky Would you rather have edible spaghetti hair that regrows every night or sweat maple syrup?

Bucky saw Steve slide the new mug, now filled with coffee, across the granite-top toward him from the corner of his eye. He glanced up quickly from the screen and nodded. “Thanks, buddy.” Steve answered with a smile.

“What, no grunted thanks or mumbled acknowledgment?” Natasha quipped, standing from her seat to place her plate in the dishwasher.

“Yeah, man. You have been using way too many words lately. I miss the grumpy dude that would brood in the corner,” Sam added, crossing his arms at his chest. “Are we even sure this is the right Bucky?”

Bucky’s phone vibrated again.

(Y/N) I love me some spaghetti! Can you imagine sweating sticky, gooey maple syrup during a humid New York summer?? Your clothes would be toast.

(Y/N) Mmmm, french toast.

Bucky chuckled at the reply, drawing the attention of three sets of eyes.

Sam wasn’t wrong; he wasn’t the same Bucky.

It had been five days since (Y/N)’s first drunken texts. Five days. He couldn’t believe so little time had passed. Somehow, (Y/N) had wiggled her way under his skin.

He had noticed after only a day or two; he was smiling more, less volatile. He felt lighter, happier. He wasn’t skulking about the compound like usual, trying to avoid the rest of the team. Some might go as far as to say he was friendlier than usual.

It felt good to have someone, a friend, learning about the real James Buchanan Barnes, for once, without the threat of The Soldier clouding their perception of him.

“You’re freaking me out, man. Straight outta Invasion of the Body Snatchers or some shit,” Sam declared, rising from his chair.

“Hold on, Sam,” Steve placated, lifting a hand to the advancing man. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation to Bucky’s good mood lately.”

Bucky set his jaw in frustration, the muscles ticking. He wasn’t a Pod Person. He was just happy, for the first time in seventy-five years.

His phone went off again.

(Y/N) Would you rather sneeze once every hour, on the hour, or burp every time you saw an attractive girl?

A wide smile split his mouth as he scanned the screen.

Bucky Am I sneezing in my sleep or just when I’m awake?

When Bucky brought his gaze back up to his teammates, he noticed Natasha’s own eyes flick down to his phone. The slightest smirk curved the corner of her lips.

“It’s curious,” she said, a perfect eyebrow inched higher to her hairline. “All the people you text are in this room, yet, you haven’t been able to pull yourself away from your phone.” Her eye contact never wavered from Bucky’s face. “Don’t ya think that’s odd, fellas?”

“Natalia,” Bucky warned, his voice gruff. He knew she was fishing.

Sam laughed boisterously. “Yeah, I noticed that the other day. It’s glued to your hip nowadays.”

“It could be anyone from the team, guys,” Steve reasoned. “I bet it’s Tony.”

Bucky became increasingly agitated as the redhead slinked closer, passing his phone back and forth between his hands.

Natasha shook her head in the negative. “Nuh-uh,” she said, leaning against the counter directly beside Bucky. A hair’s breadth of space separated their shoulders from one another. Tipping back, with her elbows propped against the hard surface, she kicked her legs out casually and crossed her feet at the ankle. “Those two have barely said two words to each other since the good Sergeant here was welcomed back into the fold. It’s not Tony.”

“That still doesn’t prove anything,” Steve replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I bet it’s a girl,” Sam said in a sing-song voice. “But, where would Ice Man here meet a girl?”

Natasha smiled while looking at Sam as he stepped closer to the trio. “Let’s find out, shall we?” She nodded to Sam and, without batting an eye, lunged at Bucky.

She tapped the underside of the hand holding the phone, causing the device to flip up into the air.

Though he hadn’t seen the attack coming, Bucky’s reflexes were cat-like, and he easily caught the phone in his opposite hand.

Unfortunately, Natasha was just as quick and knocked the phone from his hand again. She effortlessly swatted it out of the air and into her hand. As Bucky clamored to retrieve the cell phone, she swung her arm behind her back and tossed it into the waiting hands of Sam.

By looking at Sam’s broad smile, Bucky knew he was having a field day at his expense. He pounced on his teammate, grappling for possession of the device. He wasn’t sorry for elbowing the other man harder than he ever would if they were sparring each other. He needed his fucking phone back!

Sam managed to flick the phone over his other shoulder in the process of Bucky grabbing ahold of Sam’s wrist and twisting the same arm behind his body. It clattered to the ground at Steve’s feet.

As everyone stared at the cell phone lying prone on the tile floor, Sam backed Bucky into the cabinets, trapping him with his body. “Let me go, Bird Brain!” Bucky huffed.

Steve bent to pick the phone up, holding it in his hand. Bucky could see the war playing within Steve’s blue eyes as he struggled against Sam. Steve was just as curious as the other two but didn’t want to betray his friend.

Natasha quickly snatched the device from Steve and started thumbing at the screen.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Steve protested.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to put a passcode on your phone, Barnes?” Natasha tsked as she navigated to the messaging app.

Bucky knew the exact second she found what she was looking for because her eyes became comically wide. A feral, shit-eating grin crossed her mouth as she raised a brow again.

“Tell me about (Y/N).”

“What?” Steve questioned, crowding the red head. “Lemme see.”

Bucky felt his cheeks go aflame as Natasha angled the screen so Steve could see the message thread. They burned hotter as Steve looked up with his own shit-eating smirk.

“Well, well…” Sam piped up. “If your faces are anything to go by, Vanilla Ice’s still got game.” Bucky twisted his arm back further in retaliation causing Sam to grunt in discomfort.

Bucky watched as Natasha’s thumb skimmed along the screen to delve deeper into past messages. Her thumb stopped as she read a passage; her green eyes rapidly followed the lines of text.

“I always kinda figured you’d be into someone that would call you out on your BS. She sounds fun,” Natasha said as she continued to scroll.

“No one’s into anyone. We’re just friends,” Bucky murmured.

Steve’s head shot up to stare at his best friend, sorrow painting his features. He edged away from Natasha. “Does she know who you are?” he asked.

Bucky shook his head no. “And she never will.”

“Aww, but you guys sound so cute together,” Natasha pouted. Bucky frowned at the insinuation. It couldn’t ever happen.

“There aren’t any rules saying we can’t date,” Natasha mentioned. “Hell, you know how many times I tried to set up this big lug?” She motioned to Steve with her thumb.

“That’s different,” Bucky said after a few moments. He eased up slightly on Sam’s arm.

“How so?”

Bucky rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, the blush starting again. “He’s Captain America, and well, I’m not. Not exactly everyone’s favorite.” He downcast his eyes to the floor.

“Buck, you know that’s not true,” Steve said woefully. “It’ll just take some time.”

“I know, Stevie. Until then, though, I’m still a pariah.”

The super soldier serum couldn’t have been given to a better person, but Bucky always felt like he would be trapped in Steve’s shadow, no matter the amount of good he did. He would still feel weak for what Hydra did to him, or not good enough to be labeled Captain America’s best friend.

Feeling the room take a considerable turn toward somber, Natasha called out, “Holy shit, Barnes! You used Wilson’s toothbrush to clean your toilet?”

“What?!” all three male voices cried out.

Sam rushed forward, trying to see the proof for himself. “You’re a dead man!”

Freed from the weight of Sam’s body, Bucky leaped forward toward Natasha and Sam. Slamming into Sam’s back, he snaked an arm around the other man, reaching frantically for his phone. He was done with them spying on his non-existent personal life.

Bucky smacked against Sam’s hands and arms, trying to dislodge the device.

“Stop!” Sam bellowed. “You’re hitting me like an eleven-year-old girl!”

“Gimme back my phone!” Bucky shouted.

Suddenly, the sound of ringing filled the small space of the kitchen. The scuffling stopped in an instant as everyone tried to figure out where the noise was coming from. Sam glimpsed down at his hands and jumped apart from Bucky as if he’d been burned. He looked horrified!

“Oh, shit!” Sam exclaimed, shoving the phone back at Bucky.

“What did you do?!” Bucky screeched when he realized the ringing was coming from his phone on speaker.

The sound ended abruptly, only to be replaced with the gentle tinkle of a woman’s voice.

“James?”

Chapter Two | Chapter Four

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[thatweeboverthereisthirsty]

can I ask for number 6 (sfw) with leona please? thanks~

Why yes you may. So.... this turned into a short fic because I’ve been wanting to write a Hanahaki disease troupe for a while now. It also ended up a lot more ansgty than I had intended when I originally wrote up the prompt, but oh well, it happens. I hope you like this despite Leona being a little bit OC towards the end. Nonetheless enjoy!

Warnings/Tags: Blood, disease, pain, angst, maybe a smidgen of comfort at the end, death, unrequited love, requited love, Hanahaki disease troupe with my own spin, the ending is sappy just so you know

   Pain blossomed in your chest as you rounded the corner. An itchy feeling in your throat turned into a burn, prompting you to rush past the other students in the hall and push your way into the nearest bathroom. Coughs wracked your body and forced dark pink petals splattered with blood up your throat. 

   It was unclear how long it took you to finally settle down from the coughing fit. This had been happening for months. Starting with simple coughs and the occasional petal had turned into painful fits where you choked on the amount of petals and blood that made its way out from your throat. It was a horrible thing and you knew what it was and how to get rid of it. The only problem was that no one in this place knew how or even what it was. 

   You were about to get up when you were suddenly forced into another fit of coughs. This one was more violent and painful. Tears streamed from your closed eyes and you gripped the edge of the toilet harshly. It’s almost over. It’s almost over. It’s almost over. It’s almost over. 

   Once the hacking had stopped you panted for breath and gazed into the bloodied toilet. A sinking feeling filled you when you saw a flower. An entire flower the color crimson. Your time was nearly up and you could feel it. You could feel thorns spreading out from your lungs and pricking their walls. Soon they would puncture and you would cough until there was no air left to cough up.

   “Um… is coughing up flowers normal where you come from?” You jerked and winced as the stabbing sensation got worse. Turning you spotted Leona leaning against the inside of the stall wall and realized you must have forgotten to close the door in your haste. Another spike of pain burned your lungs as the thorns grew just from Leona’s close proximity. 

   If you hadn’t shut your eyes you would have seen the demi lion flinch and concern pass through his eyes. You breathed shallowly and coughed again before shifting into a sitting position.

   “No it’s not. Well sort of.” you panted and Leona raised an eyebrow. “It’s called Hanahaki disease. Where I come from it stems from unrequited love.” At that the mage looked at you in disbelief and crossed his arms. You continued despite his obvious suspicions. 

   “When you first get it, you cough a lot and sometimes spit up little yellow petals. Gradually as time goes on and the disease gets worse the petals turn pink and then darker as you cough up more of them. Eventually you cough up your first full flower, which is always the color of blood. It means that…” You paused and looked up at Leona with tearful eyes.

   You didn’t want to say it out loud. It would only make it more real, but if there was anything you learned from having Hanahaki disease, it’s that it is very real and very painful. Maybe if it had been someone else who had found you then you would have been able to explain it fully but Leona was the last person you wanted to explain your condition to. The lion man grew impatient and gestured for you to go on. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to speak the words. 

   “When you cough up your first flower it means that the thorns have nearly punctured your lungs and within the day you will die.” Silence was what met you first, but you watched as Leona’s eyes flickered from you to the toilet bowl full of petals and blood. And directly in the middle of it lay a crimson flower, bloomed straight from your pain. 

   He was quiet for a long time before he looked at you again and frowned. 

   “How do you fix it?” 

   “You can’t. At least not here. There are two ways for Hanahaki disease to be cured. A: the more favorable option. To have the person change their mind and decide to love you, that or they loved you all along and you just never knew about it. B: the more painful option and one I would turn to if it were a service offered here, surgery.”

   “Surgery?” Leona asked with a confused expression.

   “Surgery,” you wheezed, “where they remove the flowers and thorns from your lungs. Except it only works if you take the seed out as well. If you don’t remove the seed the flowers will just regrow overnight. A lot of people don’t turn to this option until the very last minute because removing the seed means removing your ability to feel anything. All of your emotions are tied to that seed and without it a person will live a life of numbness.”

   The look on Leona’s face morphed from confusion to shock and then back to confusion.

   “Hanahaki disease doesn’t exist here so they don’t have the surgery option which likely means that the people here aren’t born with seeds.” You spoke, sensing his thoughts. He looked down at you and scrunched his eyebrows together.

   “So who’s your unrequited lover?” 

   You froze and looked back into the toilet. Another fit of coughing sprung from your chest and left you heaving for air through the flowers that clogged your lungs and throat. Distantly you felt Leona’s hand on your back before it disappeared and his footsteps made their way away from you. 

   Tears slid down your face and plopped into the bloody water beneath you. Oh if only he had loved me.

----------

   Only a few hours had passed since your arrival in the nurses wing. Yet the elderly woman who looked over the health of her students stood sadly against the wall near her door, waiting to deliver grim news to all who came her way.

   Leona, who had already figured out what happened, stayed slumped against the opposite wall. His mind raced to process the situation. Everything had happened so quickly, it seemed like only minutes ago he walked in on your coughing and decided to tease you about your frail herbivore body getting sick. Then you had told him about your condition and the sight of you, weak, and trembling next to a toilet filled with evidence of your nearing doom had made him sick with this emotion he wasn’t used to feeling. He had run to get help when he realized that he could offer none, but a part of him wished he had stayed when he and the nurse returned to find you slumped, unconscious against the wall, blood staining your lips and tear streams lining your cheeks. 

   The lion growled in frustration at the recent memory and pushed himself off the wall. The nurse didn’t stop him when he entered the room you were being kept in. Soon they would move you to a better spot where you could be prepped for a funeral. The thought filled his mouth with a bad taste so he elected to ignore it as he sat beside your far too still body. 

   A sigh left him as he felt that emotion rise in his chest once again. He snarled as if he could scare it away but interrupting the silence in the room only made him feel worse. 

   How had no one else noticed sooner. Perhaps then they could have found a way to save you. Leona looked over at your pale face and frowned. It was weird not having you there. He supposed you would have had to leave for your own world anyway but this was different. This was a very permanent and sudden goodbye. The kind no one ever wants to experience. 

   Another sigh left his lips as he ran a hand over your forehead and pushed your hair back. Even in death you were beautiful. His hand made its way down to your chest where he let it hover for a moment before pressing down in hopes that he could find any sort of beat at all. There was none. However he did feel something strange underneath your clothes and skin. 

   Glancing back towards the door, Leona carefully undid the top part of your shirt and spread it aside so he could examine your chest area. What he saw had him retracting his hands very quickly and flinching backwards. 

   Underneath your skin vines wriggled and moved as they broke free from your lungs and wound their way through the other parts of your body. The tip of a thorn broke through the surface of your skin and dragged it’s way across your chest making odd jerks and turns. As horrified as he was, Leona leaned forward and watched as the thorn carved a word into your flesh. He watched carefully as it retreated back into its spot in your body and he felt his blood run cold.

   Leona Kingscholar. The word was his name. Then it hit him. The unrequited love had been him. This whole time you had been suffering because of him. And now you were dead because of it. 

   Sobs forced their way out of his throat and he gripped your arm tightly whispering that he had changed his mind. You could come back now because he had cured you. You were alright because he loved you. 

   None of his pleas did anything to bring you back, and eventually when the headmaster and your other friends arrived, Leona excused himself to run back to his room in Savanaclaw.

---------

   Leona rolled over and sighed, breathing in deeply to inhale the scent of the flowers that hung overhead. They smelled like you and their petals, once a horrific shade of red, now the same color as your eyes. 

   The lion yawned and smiled up at your flowers before patting the earth beneath him with his tail. He had cured you by being in love with you, and although that had not saved you from the thorns that terrorised your lungs, it had gotten rid of them and allowed you to sprout beautiful flowers that reminded him of you. 

   Just beneath the soil, your body lay decomposed into more rich minerals for the earth. Your heart however had transformed into the seed of the loveliest flowers Leona had ever seen. The disease that had taken you from him also gifted him with a plant of great beauty. 

   He lay underneath your flowers everyday and let their scent lull him to sleep. And occasionally if he listened very closely to the earth beneath him, he could almost hear the sound of your heart still beating. Beating because you were in love.

[thecardsimagine]

“Do you want me to ruin your village’s harvest this year?”

Did anyone say Forest Spirit!Muriel? No? Well, uh, but it’s already done, so you may have it!

“Do you want me to ruin your village’s harvest this year?”

≿————-————-   ❈ ————-————-≾  

You had to admit, that despite your best preparations, you were startled as the spirit you summoned slowly approached from behind the countless trees of the forest. You had heard a lot, from how grotesque the forest spirit was, to how it was as tall as the trees itself, with eyes killing you just by looking at you. Naturally, that made you hold your breath in anxious anticipation, though you slowly let it out again in its presence.

No matter what you heard, only half was true, the normal exaggeration of fairytales applying as always. The spirit looked like a man, worn by the days on his back, scars on his skin, clad in furs and leather. His hair was wild, yet, every strand knew its place, braided losely, and his eyes were as green as the heart of the forest. Only his height was intimidating, but you had seen tall people before, it wasn’t that much difference from ‘just being tall’. Certainly not as tall as a tree, much to your relief.

“U-Uhm, excuse me!” you called out, and you thought you saw him flinch. You quickly got up from the ground you had prayed on, hoping he’d show if you visited his shrine, to make yourself known. If you hadn’t know better, you’d have thought he looked over his shoulder in consideration of a way to flee, but he stayed, unmoving even as you took a step forward.

There was still a good handful of steps between you two, making you raise your voice to communicate as you didn’t want to stand too close to him either. If this wasn’t just a stranger in the forest, then he really was a spirit after all, and that would mean you didn’t want to upset him in any way.

Though before you could speak up again, you heard a low growl, your head moving side to side in confusion, muscles tensing at the animalistic sound. Behind some fern, you noticed a dark form stalking through the thicket, yellow eyes shining behind the green. Your mind raced with possibilities, a bear? A wolf? Something unknown to you entirely?

No matter what it was, you were wary, holding out your hand before you with your palms up. You didn’t even have anything like a knife with you, and no intentions to harm anyone. Finally, the creature’s face peeked out from behind the grass, a long snout with two errected ears coming into sight, inspecting you clearly.

Part of you felt like jumping up and running as the wolf started to approach in a calm trot, but you were also aware that this was a test, and there were many when searching for spirits and the like. Never letting you out of its sight, it took a whiff of your hands, tail slowly wagging. Once it noticed that you weren’t backing away, nor showed any harmful intentions or smelled weird, it visibly relaxed and so did you.

You had never seen a real wolf, but when it put its head in your hands, body wiggling in excitement, you couldn’t help but compare it to an excited puppy. “She likes you,” you suddenly heard as you scratched the wolf behind the ears, making you jump in surprise.

The man was much closer now, standing by the side of the animal who looked happily up to him, earning some more scratches from his big hands too. “What do you want?” he asked, directing his attention to you, but not before mustering the altar behind you, which you had filled to the brim with things you hoped would please the spirit.

“Are... Are you the forest spirit?” you asked and he took a long time simply staring at you. Eventually, he turned his head away, scratching his cheek with his free hand, muttering quietly under his breath. “Guess so...”

“T-Then!” you chimed loudly, startling both him and the wolf in front of you with the sudden enthusiasm in your voice. “Oh, I’m sorry...” Biting your lip, you calmed yourself, taking a deep breath. “I went hiking not too long ago around here, and I dropped something very important to me. It was a family heirloom and I need it back before anyone notices... I am sure my family would disown me if I went back without it, but no matter how hard I search from morning to night, I can’t find it. Can you help me look for it?”

With a raised eyebrow, the spirit took a deep breath. You weren’t sure if he was judging you or simply trying to decide whether he wanted to help or not, but you also didn’t understand as he grumbled something, turning on his heel. For a moment you thought he wouldn’t help, but he stopped after a few steps, noticing you weren’t coming, so you quickly grabbed your bag and ran after him, following him as he lead you through the thicket.

“Thanks,” you smiled as he held a branch out of the way for you, letting you pass safely without scratches and bruises from the unruly nature. “You are actually quite nice, aren’t you?”

For all of the thirty minutes you two were already wandering down the way you had taken before, losing your precious necklace somewhere there, you had been the solo entertainer for the three of you, though the wolf didn’t count as a conversation partner. Only now, did he huff, his shrug almost invisible under the furs and cloak he was wearing.

“My town is always super cautious about the forest, scared to upset you and you maybe ruining the harvest or hunts... But you wouldn’t do that, right?”

His side-eye looked suspicious but his expression was indifferent to your words. “Do you want me to ruin your village’s harvest this year?”  

“N-No?” you questioned, unsure if there was a right answer to his question.

“Then I won’t. If your town hunts too much, I won’t let them see the game for a while. If they pick too many berries, I won’t allow them to regrow. If you cut too many tree’s your axes won’t hurt the forest until it heals. There is no reason for me to hurt you.”

“Is that so...” you mumbled, wondering. It would explain why sometimes, the woodman came back with broken axes, the hunters without new game, and the children hungry despite basking in the glory of the forest. “You can’t actually do anything to our fields,” you declared as it dawned on you, that all he could do was inside of the forest.

Busted, he turned his head away, soft pink on his cheeks as you saw right through him. “No,” he admitted. “Only if you were to plant something in the forest.”

“I see--” You were cut off by his arm suddenly lifting, pointing towards a tree branch close to you. From it, the golden necklace, you had been searching for, dangled, and you smiled from ear to ear as you were able to retrieve it finally. “Thank you so much!” you chimed, turning towards him, while he simply nodded, a soft blush on his face.

“How can I repay your kindness?” you asked, clutching the necklace to your chest. His expression grew dim as he shook his head slowly, revealing, “You can’t. You will forget you met me the moment you return home. Come now.”

Baffled, you watched him turn, his wolf giving a soft howl, letting her ears hang in disappointment. “Why will I forget?” you asked as you trotted after him, and he shrugged. “People forget spirits when they lose sight of them.”

“That’s... sad,” you mumbled, and you two remained silent as he led you out of the forest again, the few glances you shot him out of the corner of your eyes, showing you no change in his expression, he simply moved on. He must have been used to this, even if you thought it was terrible sad that people forgot such a kind spirit as he was.

When you two reached the end of the forest, he stopped, unable to move out of the trees while you could move with no restrictions. “Thank you...” you whispered, turning towards him. You felt regretful about having to part now, meaning you would forget his help and the time you two spent together. Giving his wolf a few last pats, you turned to leave, but after two more steps you faced him once more, putting on the bravest expression you could muster.

“I won’t forget!” you promised before taking off, leaving him behind speechless, his mouth slightly agape.

In truth, you did. By the time you were home, you had forgotten the kind stranger, spirit of the forest, wondering how you managed to find your important family heirloom all by yourself. But the feeling nagged you. You remembered your words, remembered that there was something you wasn’t supposed to forget, but what was it?

The next time you returned to the forest, you brought a pot of forget-me-not and a small shovel, protruding the edges between fields and forests, deep into it until you found yourself back at the altar. You knew you had prayed here for help to find your necklace, but everything until you were back out again was blurry in comparison. By now though, you didn’t mind.

You went to work, planting the little flowers carefully into the ground, doing your best not to hurt any other plant in the way. There was no way of knowing if they could even live in this terrain, but they were the closest to something that could make you remember. When you were done, you remained for a few more moments, thanking the forest for helping you find you necklace one way or another.

Getting up, you went back on your track home, hearing a wolf howl in the distance. It made you stop, nagging at the memories you didn’t have, and you turned around, eyes falling on the hundreds of little, violet flowers, sparkling as if kissed by the morning dew shining in the sun, not even wondering how they could have spread so fast, smiling serenly as you went on your way home.

[yellowmagicalgirl]

sink down giantess

Fjor may have the company and Ran’s approval, but Saxa has Vidar’s files. She follows them to a cave hiding a secret.

Do I have WIP’s and requests in my inbox I should be writing for instead? Yes. Have I ever written for this fandom before? No, but for the past couple days I have been fixating on these two and wanted to get this fic written before I start school tomorrow.

The title comes from Henry Adams Bellows’s translation of The Poetic Edda, specifically this section. The fic is partially inspired by the story of Brynhildr, albeit heavily adapted to fit my fic.

CW: Non-consensual drug use, references to canon deaths.

AO3

FFN

Vidar had kept secrets from Saxa.

Really, she shouldn’t have been surprised. She wasn’t his biological son, and she wasn’t his heir. Oh, she could have been his heir. She could have been so much, and yet Fjor came strolling up and took over the position she had put so much effort and work into.

Fjor and Ran were furious at Saxa, but they didn’t have all the power. And they didn’t have all the information. Vidar had kept secrets from them as well, and Saxa had files. She had (anonymously, of course) leaked some to the press, just to watch Fjor squirm. She had hoped that with the taxes, he’d give her more power, but he hadn’t.

Ran and Fjor had failed to kill Magne and Laurits, and Saxa still had files. It had taken her a few days to make her way through them before she found something interesting.

Project Brynhildr.

There wasn’t much information on it. Just expense reports for an experimental anesthetic called Hindarfjall and coded coordinates. She spent hours researching the drug; a single injection could apparently keep a human adult asleep for days at a time. It took Saxa another day to break the code. It didn’t matter much; she was grounded anyways.

Just like other family secrets, Project Brynhildr was kept in an unassuming cave. Saxa snuck out to go hiking. It wasn’t that hard, with Fjor in Vidar’s-and-what-should-have-been-Saxa’s office and Ran drinking away her sorrows. It was an easy hike, but it was a long one. Saxa glared at the ground as she turned on the flashlight of her phone. This had better be worth the time.

After three minutes of walking through the cave, Saxa began to wonder if Vidar had moved things and never updated the file. After four minutes, she was almost ready to let him keep this secret in his death. She could find another way to unseat Fjor.

And then she found the ring of flames. Saxa shrugged off her jacket; she liked it and even if she was invulnerable to the fire that didn’t mean her clothing wouldn’t get singed. She stepped through the flames, ignoring the feeling of them.

Saxa gasped in shock, suddenly thankful for one of the crates to lean on.

Laying in the center of the circle was Isolde.

But how? Vidar had killed Isolde. He had admitted to it himself. Her body had been found and buried. So why was a replica of her here?

Except, no. It wasn’t a perfect replica. Her hair was longer than it had been when she had died. Not by much, but it was long enough that it couldn’t quite be considered a pixie cut anymore. It was surprisingly pretty. Everything about this situation was surprising. More things about Isolde than Saxa wanted to admit were pretty.

Saxa crouched next to Isolde, inspected the body before her, and swallowed. Slowly, and shallowly, Isolde breathed.

Saxa turned and opened a crate. It was filled with Hindarfjall.

So Vidar was keeping Isolde alive. But why? What was so important about her that she needed to be alive? And why had he faked her death? While a missing person was a liability for people to go searching for her, if Isolde was ever found to be alive it would raise far more concern. Perhaps there was more pressing question: how had he faked her death? Vidar had never been able to create a corpse out of thin air, not for as long as Saxa had known him. Not unless this was yet another secret he had kept from her.

Saxa gazed around the room. Aside from the few crates, there weren’t any easy answers.

Saxa knelt besides Isolde. She took Isolde’s hand in her own, flinching at just how icy Isolde’s skin was. It was far too cold for a breathing human surrounded by flames, and as Saxa brushed her thumb over Isolde’s to feel her slow pulse, she tried to remember everything she could about Hindarfjall. Nothing she could remember said anything about such a reduced body temperature.

Saxa couldn’t remember if she had ever felt Isolde’s body be so cold, but she also couldn’t remember ever having touched Isolde’s skin.

Could that have been why Vidar kept Isolde here? But for what? Was he going to use her to regrow the glaciers she had been so concerned that and push away any suspicion over Jutul Industries?

Well, that’s one way to end global warming, Saxa thought snidely. That was normal for her. What wasn’t normal for her was the spike of shame for thinking of Isolde as a tool.

Gently, Saxa brushed her fingers down Isolde’s cheek before splaying her fingers so that two of them rested on Isolde’s jugular. It was the same. Slow pulse, icy skin.

And then Isolde’s eyebrows pinched together. Saxa quickly removed her hands as Isolde’s eyes began to flutter open. Had Saxa ever noticed just how blue they were?

Isolde blinked a few times before her eyes finally focused on Saxa’s. She licked her dry-looking lips before speaking, voice slurred. “Saxa? What’re you... I guess this is a better dream than the ones... they’ve been so weird...”

So Isolde thought Saxa was a relatively good thing to dream about. That sent a strange, warm feeling shooting through Saxa’s chest. “This isn’t a dream,” Saxa said, voice thankfully even and betraying nothing she was feeling.

“Oh.” Isolde looked past Saxa, and her eyes widened slightly. “Fire... where are we? I-I can’t move.”

“Vidar drugged you. He faked your death and brought you to this cave.”

Realization dawned in Isolde’s eyes. Realization and fear, and some of that fear was definitely directed at Saxa given the way Isolde was looking at Saxa’s eyes. Isolde began to shake slightly as her breathing grew faster, and if she had the ability to Saxa was sure Isolde would be running as fast and far as he could.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Saxa said in an uncharacteristically soothing voice. “Vidar’s dead; he can’t hurt you anymore.” And then, before Saxa could even realize what she was saying, “I’ll protect you from anyone else who might want to hurt you. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

“Why?”

That shouldn’t have hurt. Saxa had never liked Isolde before Vidar had faked her death. She hadn’t liked Isolde after she’d seemingly died, either. Why was she making promises she might not even be able to keep?

“I, I don’t know, but... but it feels right.” Well, that certainly sounded lame, except the answer calmed Isolde down.

Maybe Isolde could be an ally against Fjor and Ran. He was running the company like Vidar had, and even though Saxa and Isolde had very different reasons for hating that, they could at least agree it was terrible.

Of course, that would require figuring out how to explain Isolde’s apparent resurrection, first.

“You said your dad faked my death?” Isolde asked. “How long have I been missing for?”

“About three weeks.”

Isolde frowned. “I thought it took longer to pronounce a missing person as dead.”

“Vidar made a fake body. No, I don’t know how; I thought you were dead until I found you today.” Saxa sighed. She wasn’t sure if she could keep her promise on her own, anyways. “I wonder if one of Magni’s allies knows how.”

Isolde inhaled sharply. “Is his mom okay? He said that she wasn’t doing well.”

Huh, so she wasn’t surprised that Magni was involved.

Saxa shrugged. “She seemed fine last time I saw her, before Fjor fired her. I know you’re having a hard time moving, but I could carry you out if you wanted me to.”

“But, the fire. Will you be okay?”

“It won’t hurt me.”

Isolde’s head twitched, like she was trying to nod. Saxa walked around so she was behind Isolde and lifted her by the armpits. Her body wasn’t quite as cold as it had been, but it was still too cold for Saxa’s comfort.

“I thought you’d be carrying me, not dragging me.”

“Do you want me to test and see if you’re fireproof?” Isolde remained silent. Carefully, Saxa backed out of the flames, shielding Isolde with her body. She then propped Isolde up by the wall.

“I’ll be quick,” Saxa said, darting through the flames to grab a vial of Hindarfjall. If they revealed Isolde’s being alive soon enough, it would probably be a good idea to present the doctors with Hindarfjall. That way, they could help Isolde recover from its effects. Saxa placed the capped vial in her pocket and ran back to Isolde.

Saxa picked up her jacket and began putting it on Isolde. “To keep you warm.”

Isolde smiled as Saxa picked her up in a way that wouldn’t be dragging her. Saxa had no idea why, but she wanted to keep that smile safe.

~

A/N: Hindarfjall was the mountain where Brynhildr lived (and might’ve been trapped? I couldn’t fully tell), so I thought it was an appropriate name to give to the drug.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Taste of Home (Indruck)

Prompt for the 13th was: strange harvest

Most days, Duck isn’t too worried about the dirt on his hands or the bits of leaves that stick to his clothes. Most days, he’s not about to meet with a reclusive, wealthy donor to the Kepler Botanical Gardens who has specifically requested Duck be present. 

When he enters the meeting room, Thacker is waiting for him along with a tall, pale-haired man sporting red glasses.

“Ah, here’s Duck now.” Thacker smiles. 

“Sorry, uh, thought we weren’t meeting until-”

“-One. You’re correct, I have a habit of getting a bit, ah, ahead of things t times.” The man offers a wide smile that’s polite but also gives Duck the heebie-jeebies.

“Duck, this here is Mr. Cold. He’s one of the garden’s longest standin supporters. He’s got a project for us, and asked that you be the one in charge of it.”

“I was quite impressed with your work on the native plant section, and I’m told you headed the transplant and maintenance of the tree specimens in the New Zealand section, which is no mean feat.”

“Thanks, I’m real proud of both. What do you have in mind? Is it an exhibit?”

“A private collection. Come, let me show you.” Mr. Cold unrolls a set of plans as Duck shoots a glance at Thacker.

“Didn’t know we did that sort thing.”

“We do for Mr.Cold. Whelp, I gotta go lead a tour. Mr. Cold, I leave you in Duck’s capable hands.”

He joins the taller man in front of the plans; they’re for a garden within a greenhouse, the structure as angular and distinct as the man requesting it. He knows the greenhouse hs Cold’s name above it, is usually used as a teaching space

“I imagine you think me rather selfish for requesting to use your space in such a way.” Mr. Cold doesn’t look up from where he’s making final notes on the paper, as if the answer is a foregone conclusion. 

“Think it’s kinda strange, but I ain’t about to rule on it bein selfish until you tell me what I’m actually doin.”

“I have several species of trees, flowers, and shrubs that I need grown. They are, ah, rather difficult to cultivate anywhere other than their native home, and I am not a skilled gardener at the best of times. Hence my seeking out someone who, I presume, has not killed multiple succulents in the last two months.” The man looks a little ashamed, then clears his throat, “the plants I am asking you to grow are the only specimens of their kind on earth.”

“How’d you get them, then?” Duck tries to keep the suspicion out of his voice, but this feels more and more like some rich guy made an impulse purchase of something that should be in a seed bank or species ark somewhere.

“I brought small specimens over from my home, which is where they grow. But I couldn’t keep them alive, and they were already rare. Last I heard they were all wiped out by an, ah, an illness. I stored seeds from my specimens in hopes of one day regrowing them.”

Duck looks at the diagram closely; the plant’s are actually sketched in, not just noted by name and the number of eraser marks suggest Mr. Cold spent a long time planning out exactly where each one went.

“You’re askin us to do all this because you’re homesick?”

“Yes. I have been away from home for a long, long time. The Kepler gardens have been a refuge for me. Lately I’ve been drawn to the woodland and prairie type sections.”

“I helped with a lot of those.”

Mr. Cold turns to him with a smile, “I know. That is another reason I requested you. But, before we go any further, I must make something clear; these specimens they mean...they are so, so precious to me. And secrecy is a must, for reasons I can only half explain. They would be solely under your care and protection. If that is not a responsibility you wish to take, I understand entirely.”

Behind the red glasses, Duck can just see a glint of hope. 

“Think I’m up to the challenge.”

“Wonderful” Mr. Cold claps his hands together, “in that case, there is not a moment to lose. Here, this is everything you need.” He produces a briefcase, inside which sits ten packets of seeds and three pits, bout the size of an avocado pit.”

“All the information I have on ideal growing conditions is in the attached notebook, and the seeds are labeled. If you have any questions, ny at all, my phone number is in there s well.”

 He pauses, smiles, and murmurs to himself, “it's been awhile since I gave anyone my phone number.”

Duck opts to ignore the stealthy glance at his arms and carefully takes the case, “Thanks, this’ll all be real helpful. 

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

He doesn’t see his new patron (as Juno calls Mr. Cold) for a week. When he does, he’s on his belly, checking for any sign of sprouts in the greenhouse. 

“How goes the growing?” Mr. Cold asks from the direction of Duck’s feet. 

The gardener rolls over and sits up, “Not much to report, just trying to keep an eye on ‘em so I don’t miss anythin important.”

Mr. Cold offers his hand, helping Duck up, “I appreciate the care you’re taking, Duck. I hope it isn’t cutting into your other work too badly.”

“Had to move somethings around, but that's just the nature of this kind of work.”

Mr. Cold chuckles, “Pun intended?”

“Uh, I guess.”

“Oh. Your, h, your lunch time is coming up right? I was wondering if you would let me take you to lunch as an, ah, extra thank you?” He’s spinning a small ring on his finger, the shyness almost charming, and Duck felt neutral at best about the sandwich he brought today.

“Sure, thanks.”

Mr. Cold grins, “Oh good. Where would you like to go? I hear the crystal palace has a lovely lunch.”

“The fancy Japanese place? Pretty sure they got a dress code.”

“Brush off the dirt and you look completely respectable.”

Duck raises an eyebrow, “I was talkin about you.”

They both stare down at the classy but still very clear pajama pants Mr. Cold is wearing. 

“Fair point. How do you feel about Indian food?”

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

Duck’s stepped into some sort of painting. And here he thought he was just wandering into the birch grove. 

Indrid (“”I really prefer that name”) is laying on his back on a bench. Sun streams between the branches, falling across his face, making it all angle and shadow in ways Duck wants to sit and study. His silver hair is ruffling in the breeze, and his glasses are pushed up his forehead. Eyes shut and hands folded on his stomach, he reminds Duck of the paintings in fairytales of someone waiting for true loves kiss. 

He’s worried he might be the one to give it.

They’re having lunch once a week at least now, the awkwardness of the first time melting away as Duck got going on a tangent about dandelions only to find Indrid, elbows on the table and chin in his hands, listening to him so intently he blushed on reflex. Then he was giggling as Indrid pulled a custom-made curly straw out of a small tin in order to drink his Mango lassi. And then Indrid had laughed at his laugh and it all fell into place, the conversation so easy it’s as if they’d know each other for years. 

Then there were the frequent visits by Indrid to the greenhouse to check on the progress. Which, if Duck does say so himself, if pretty fucking good. The plants are thriving, reaching for the light, and the trees are already flowering in deep blue stars, the speed with which they reached adulthood fascinating to him. Sometimes Indrid just comes to see the gardens, but always seeks Duck out to say hello and smile that increasingly charming smile at him. 

But the biggest change has come with Indrid asking if Duck would be interested in designing a small garden for him 

“Something very simple and manageable. Hardy too.”

“Any plant preferences?”

“No, I trust your judgement entirely, though you may have to help me with their maintenance the first few weeks, if that is alright.”

Duck would have done it even if Indrid wasn't paying him. He liked sitting in the living room, surrounded by strange art and  crumpled papers, showing Indrid how to tend houseplants. And when they sit on the back porch, each dirt-smudged and grass stained, Indrid sipping soda while Duck nursed a single beer, the other man kept beaming at the new, small patch of garden, Duck’s heart wanted to burst from his chest and flutter around. 

Last night, he stayed late for dinner, and as he was checking over the houseplants…

“I’m fond of this one. It’s sturdy and makes me smile, much like you.” Indrid murmurs as he steps beside him. 

Duck slides a smile his way “Dunno, partial to this snake plant we chose; unique and kinda tall, just like you.”

It’s the worlds weakest flirtation, but as Indrid steps away his fingers tease Duck’s lower back, “I wonder if they can cross-pollinate.”

All of this is why Duck decides to leave Indrid be. Because playing prince charming to one of the gardens donors could backfire and shatter his whole career if he reads things wrong. 

The path takes him past Indrid, and he steps lightly. But just as he passes Indrid's head, cool fingers find his own. 

“How is my favorite flora expert today?” Indrid purrs, eyes still shut.

“Good. Uh. Yeah, good. How’d you know-”

“It was you? I have my ways.” Indrid grins, squeezing his hand once before letting go, “are we still on for lunch tomorrow? I can bring you that soup you like.”

“That’d be great.” Duck hesitates, reaches down and ruffles Indrid’s hair. The other man sighs, rubs his face against Ducks palm. 

“I can't wait.”

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

It takes him until ten pm to remember he left his phone in the greenhouse. Which would not be a problem, except he’s supposed to take a call early tomorrow from Jane, the first time in months they’ve been able to talk.

Plus, he’s been having an excellent text conversation with Indrid until his last rounds, sending him pictures of the plants in the greenhouse, which all look ready to bloom in the next day, and the strange fruit on the trees; speckled gold and white, and smelling faintly of marshmallow. Indrid’s reply texts were filled with excitement (and a great deal of praise, which Duck is thoroughly enjoying).  He wants to keep that going as soon as he can.

He finds his phone on the workbench, looks up just in time to see glowing red eyes reflected in the glass. 

Something’s in the greenhouse with him. Which should be impossible, because only two people have the keys. 

Turning, he scans the plants and spots a large, dark shape holding very still behind the trees. Which would work better if said trees were not so thin.

“I am aware this is not a good hiding place.”

Duck gasps, not expecting it to talk, then steps back when the creature emerges. It towers over him, antennae twitching and wings rustling slightly. His mind puts all the pieces together, and he understands only half of them. 

“Why the fuck is the mothman breakin into my greenhouse.”

The antenna flatten slightly, “I am not breaking in. Do you see any broken glass?”

“No, but I got one key, and the only other person with one ain’t here. And put those down, they ain’t yours.” Duck reaches for the two fruits, each clasped between a pair of clawed hands, only for Mothman to raise his arms. 

“They are, in fact, mine. If you would stop trying to knock me over I can explain.”

“Uh uh, first you gotta put down Indrid’s things, then you can explain.”

The creature chirrs, annoyed, and points at its neck, “His things? Such as this key perhaps?”

Duck stops moving, staring at the key before rising his gaze to the mothmans face and meeting his eyes for the first time. 

“What the fuck? Indrid, what the fuck?”

A sheepish chirp, “There was not a good way to tell you I am a famous cryptid. At least, I did not feel there was one. I was worried you would be afraid of me if you knew.”

“Feelin a little too confused to be afraid. Did, did I just grow a mothman garden instead of a butterfly garden?”

The laugh is unmistakably Indrid, “In a way. I was telling the truth when I said these were from my home, but my need for them went beyond homesickness. Every twenty five years, my kind are compelled to eat these. It is not fatal if we don’t, but we suffer a very unpleasant illness for several weeks if we do not. I resigned myself to that sickness until I began visiting these gardens, and saw there were people who might be able to help me. My own powers, including foresight, cannot replace a green thumb. Your green thumb went beyond anything I could ever have hoped for. This” he gestures to the trees with their glittering fruit, the flowers blooming in a  rainbow of glowing star-shapes, “Duck I, I haven't seen a sight like this in close to a  hundred years.”

Duck holds his breath as Indrid steps towards him, bending to rest his downy forehead against Ducks.

“Thank you, Duck Newton. Thank you for giving me a taste of home.”

The human reaches up to touch a black, fuzzy cheek, “Does this mean you gotta leave or somethin, now that I know your secret identity?”

“Not unless you are planning to tell everyone you’ve been acting as the Mothman’s personal gardener.”

“Nah, rather tell ‘em about the cute fella I’m takin to dinner tomorrow.”

Indrid blinks, “You...you do not find this alarming?”

“I mean, you’re big and a little terrifyin, but you’re still Indrid. And it means a lot that you actually stayed and told me who you were, instead of just flyin off.”

There’s a deep purr as Indrid says, “In that case, may I invite you to dinner at my house, Duck Newton? I can even share some of this strange harvest with you.”

Duck grins, drawing his fingers long Indrids arm, “That your way of tellin me they’re an aphrodisiac?”

Indrid nuzzles his cheek and pulls him close, “I guess we’ll find out.”

[soulmate-game]

The format is slightly off because I hate formatting on this app, so if you want a better experience then read the chapter on AO3. Without further ado, Chapter 12 of The Heroes’ Game.

Chapter 12 AO3

—*—*—*—*—*

“So. This is the useless, goo-minded model of an ex-friend who decided to suddenly regrow the spine that had spontaneously combusted two years ago?”

“That was three insults in ten seconds, Marinette,” Adrien pointed out, eyebrows high on his face, the blond impressed.

“I forgot to say spoiled.”

“Wow. You weren’t kidding,” Adrien shook his head, smiling slightly. “We can never let him and Kagami meet. They would be unstoppable.”

Marinette, who finally decided to stop holding back her beaming smile, laughed cheerfully. “Also, this is Damian’s brother Tim,” she gestured to the slightly older man, who smiled politely and waved from his place in the passenger’s seat of the luxury car. Marinette was sat in the middle of the car’s back row, one rich green-eyed teenage heir to either side of her.

“Also, Marinette,” Damian took hold of the conversation as Adrien introduced himself to his elder brother. “I notice you are wearing a new necklace. Any particular reason? It does not look like your usual style.”

The pigtailed girl blinked, rubbing her hand over the simple silver chain that held Chat Noir’s ring under her shirt. It took all her willpower to not cast a glance at Adrien as she ran her fingertips over it.

“It isn’t, but a family friend gave me an heirloom of his for good luck,” she said slowly, testing out the lie that Tikki had helped her create the previous night. “I decided to put it on a chain and wear it under my clothes. Something tells me that I’ll need all the luck I can get this week.”

Plagg was a bit grumpy at his ring being told to be a good luck charm when the truth was the exact opposite, but he had been suitably ignored by both Tikki and Marinette. The cat Kwami took a little too much pride in his unlucky and destructive powers.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice you mentioned a Kagami. That wouldn’t happen to be the Olympic gold medalist fencer Kagami Tsurugi, who is rumored to be studying in Paris to improve her skills, would it?” Tim asked, turning in his seat to face the teenagers in the back. Marinette and Adrien both smiled widely, nearly blinding both Wayne’s present.

“Oh yeah, that’s her,” Adrien confirmed, nearly bouncing in his seat. “She and I actually became soulmates almost four months ago,” Adrien pulled up his sleeve to show the stylized foil in stunning maroon on his arm. “She says I’m one of the only people who can still keep up with her in a spar. She’s ruthless,” Adrien’s face just got dreamier as he spoke. “She isn’t the best at socializing, but me, Marinette, and some of our other friends have been helping her out. She didn’t exactly get the best childhood, being raised to be the best fencer possible and compete at the Olympics and all. Kagami’s mom isn’t exactly the most friendly person you’ll ever meet, but somehow Marinette worked her magic,” Adrien chuckled a bit at the memory. “She just has this— this natural ability, I guess. Marinette, I mean. She knows exactly what to say and do in order to get someone to realize the mistakes they’re making. She had two conversations with Tsurugi-San. Two. And even though Kagami’s mom hasn't completely changed, she’s a lot more lenient now and actually makes an effort to be more sensitive in how she treats Kagami. That’s why I’ve always considered Marinette to be our every-day Ladybug,” he turned and offered the girl he was trying to earn the forgiveness of a small, sad smile. “Even if I haven’t really expressed that enough lately.”

“Every day ladybug?” Tim asked, eyebrow raised. Marinette had her head in her hands out of embarrassment.

“Adrien, nooooo!”

She was ignored.

The blond in the car nodded, eyes wide and shining with innocent enthusiasm. “Oh yeah. So Ladybug is Paris’s hero, right? She always manages to save the day, turn everything back to normal, and always looks after the city. But Marinette is like our hero without a costume. She always cares about our emotions, does her best to solve problems even for strangers, and cares about everyone she meets. She put together this whole trip— sure, it was funded because of the contest, but we never would have been able to come without Marinette’s planning and foresight. She did all this even though the majority of the class isn’t on good terms with her anymore. She had no obligation to do any of this for us, she could have just asked to come by herself, but she did all of it anyway. Because she cares even for people who aren’t nice to her.”

“Nobody deserves to just stay in Paris when they have an option to escape for a while,” Marinette argued, frowning. “It’s a toxic prison with HawkMoth running around. Regardless of how the class treats me, everyone deserves a break from that.”

Adrien just gestured to Marinette with his eyebrows raised as if to say, ‘you see?’

“I didn’t realize you were this much of a boot-licker,” Damian sneered, eyes narrowed and distrusting towards the blond model. “Marinette may not have been able to tell me everything, but simple observation can fill in the blanks. You were a limp noodle around the liar just yesterday, and while I do not doubt that what you say about Miss Dupain-Cheng is true, it sounds far too close to flattery for my liking. She may be kind and forgiving, but let me assure you that I do not accept a traitor’s words so easily. You were clearly a cowardly slime just earlier this week, all fake smiles and weak assurances,” the Wayne heir leaned forward so his dark, piercing green eyes locked with Adrian’s own acidic ones. “How do I know you will not turn tail again? Abandon Marinette as soon as something difficult comes along again? Why are you here, Agreste?”

The fencer’s lips thinned, and he clasped his hands between his knees without breaking eye contact. “I was stupid,” he admitted, sounding far more tired than anyone their age should have to. “I was distracted. My home life isn’t the best, never has been. Pretty much all my experience in social interaction comes from these past three years in school with Marinette and the others. And no, that’s not an excuse. I knew Lila was lying, but I didn’t know how toxic it was. How toxic it would get. And when my father gave me the ultimatum to stay on Lila’s good side, I wasn’t brave enough to say no,” Adrian finally broke eye contact and looked down at his entwined hands. He clenched them tighter as he thought about the past week in Gotham. “But I got sick over the weekend. I’m still a little sick, but I’m getting better now. And I think it— the weakness, how bad I was feeling… suddenly waking up this morning feeling so much better physically helped me realize how empty I felt. I usually ignore it in Paris because I can’t afford to get Akumatized. I wouldn’t forgive myself,” his jaw clenched. “But here, far away from HawkMoth, I finally saw it. Life in Paris sucks right now. The atmosphere in the class is draining. And I realized the only light in it still was being hurt, and I had ignored it. I called Kagami, she helped me realize just how badly I screwed up. I didn’t even realize the environment I had just left Marinette in, pretty much alone. I made a huge mistake,” he raised his eyes back up to Damian’s, the acidic, verdant eyes burning with new, renewed, determination. “I won’t make it again.”

“Tt. See to it that you don’t, or I will.”

“Oh, you didn’t mention he’d make a threat in the first ten minutes! We definitely should never let him and Kagami meet.”

“Stay intimidated you damn inconsistent ape!”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Everyone split up into teams. We’ll be going in groups of five, if you don’t want to participate you can stick to the top rows of bleachers,” the coach was instructing everyone gathered in the gym. Madame Bustier translated for those of the students who didn’t speak fluent English. It didn’t take long for Lila and her closest crew to move up to the topmost bleachers and away from the risk of being drafted to play basketball.

Why would Lila risk breaking a nail for sports, after all?

Marinette, on the other hand, still had a lot of energy to get rid of even if she had gone freerunning not that long ago with Robin and Red Hood. The ring sitting warmly against her chest did not at all help, its resonance with her earrings almost overflowing her with power and energy she was wholly unused to. She needed to vent it somehow, even if just a little.

She didn’t think about how a lesser person would have already been consumed by that energy.

The second the coach asked for volunteers for team captain, Marinette had never risen her hand faster for something. Nobody else had a chance (except Jon, but she didn’t have to know that. The kryptonian boy hadn’t made much effort anyway). The coach smiled widely.

“Good, someone with enthusiasm! Wanna make it a Paris against Gotham game? Choose your team Dupain-Cheng. Wayne, you’ll captain the opposing team.”

Marinette smiled widely in triumph, standing and immediately picking her team as her hand moved alongside her voice, pointing out her chosen teammates. “Alix, Kim, Ivan, Ad—if you’re feeling up to it, Adrien. If not, I can—“

“No, I’m good,” Adrien held up a hand to stop his pigtailed friend from devolving into stutters as he stood up. “I won’t get better lying around, anyway. Just go easy on me, Boss.”

Marinette chuckled at that, turning to see who Damian had chosen. Jon, to nobody’s surprise. Four other people Marinette only vaguely recognized from classes. They all looked athletic and not too intimidated by the Ice Prince, which made the Parisian designer suitably wary of the group as they went to the center of the court to get started.

“We’ll let the Paris team start this time, as a welcome to America,” the coach decided, handing the ball to Mari. He backed up until he was no longer in the way, and both teams got into their positions. “Ready… start!”

Marinette’s eyes flew, knowing everyone was waiting for her first move. Plan, plan— aha! Her lips curled into a smirk, and without warning she darted straight towards Damian’s team.

The ex-assassin wasn’t about to let her go that easily though, of course, and ran straight to intercept her. Only, she took advantage of the way Jon almost instinctively followed Damian to cover his back, and tossed the ball around her green-eyed pursuer straight at the spectacled boy. Jon’s eyes widened, and he smiled. He thought for sure Mari had miscalculated, and put forth a burst of speed to catch the ball headed towards his chest—

Only for a blur of yellow to fly right in front of him, snagging the ball and carrying it further into the Gotham team’s side of the court. Jon pursued Adrien, who passed to Kim. The seasoned athlete had already skirted around the distracted crowd to end up close to the basket, and dunked the ball as soon as he caught it.

Paris, 2. Gotham, 0.

Damian instantly whipped his head to stare at his soulmate, who had her arms crossed as she grinned at him smugly.

That kind of wordless teamwork didn’t come out of nowhere though, and Damian felt his eyes narrow. If Chat was Adrien, and he and Marinette had started off such a seamless play, then his suspicions just got another support beam to hold them up. Maybe he would put effort into this game after all.

“Jon, don’t follow me so closely. Marinette took advantage of you not watching your own back, stay observant,” he told his friend, a clear double meaning behind his last two words. Jon raised two perfectly black brows, as if silently asking are you telling me to cheat?

Damian only nodded, dribbling the ball he had been handed as the teams went back to the center.

Even with Jon tuning into his super senses to keep a better eye on the game, so to speak, they ended up tied at the end of fifteen minutes.

20-20

Both teams made swift scores, but it was clear Damian and Jon were carrying their team while the Paris team was well rounded with Marinette and Adrien just slightly advanced leaders that they took silent cues from.

Marinette was beaming widely as she breathed heavily, but wasn’t nearly as out of breath as her teammates. Adrien was so exhausted from his “illness” that he ended up sitting out the sudden death.

It was down to Marinette and Damian glaring each other down in adrenaline-fueled glee as the coach held the ball in one hand, counting down. At zero, he tossed the ball up and both secret vigilantes lunged.

Marinette jumped higher, managing to smack the ball first and get it into Alix’s grip. Their ball.

SHE AND Damian both races, following the skater as she ran towards the Gotham Team’s goal. Alix was blocked. Ivan was being covered by two of Damian’s teammates, Kim by another. Alix had no choice but to pass to Marinette, but Damian was able to pull forward at just the right time to snag the ball.

Marinette leaped backwards a good several feet, never taking her eyes off the emerald eyed teen. He put up a valiant defense, but Marinette managed to slap the ball away from him and dribbled it back to the right side of the court.

Only to stop dead. She was surrounded, the three point line was ahead of her, none of her teammates were free. If Adrian had been in play, maybe… Jon was closing in front her left, she had to move before he or Damian closed in on her.

So she took a deep breath, jumped straight up as high as she could go, and threw.

The ball swished through the net, and the students actually watching roared in surprised and impressed shouts of approval.

The Asian-French girl instantly got mobbed with hugs from her teammates, her head tilted back as she laughed in pure glee.

Bluebell met emerald.

Marinette winked. “Guess Paris is just better huh, Wayne?”

He would be lying if he said seeing her so breathlessly happy didn’t leave him similarly winded. Almost blinded by her brightness.

Yeah, he thought. You were pretty spot on back then. You must be my personal Angel. I don’t know what else you could possibly be.

—*—*—*—*—*

A Valkyrie, Damian decided. Marinette must be a Valkyrie. A warrior angel who chose the dead from a battlefield to be taken to Valhalla.

Why?

Because he was a Wayne, and as a Wayne he had several people (read: hundreds) who would like nothing better than to kidnap and ransom him to his father.

Like now. The Riddler had caught him, Jon, Marinette, Adrien, and several others as soon as school ended. He was the only real target, but Riddler never turned down extra bait. He wasn’t as tough on teenagers as he was adults, but that didn’t mean lives weren’t still on the line.

“Alright, kiddies. I’m a fair guy,” lies, “and I got a soft spot for kids. So, you can stay here obediently until Brucie boy up in his Tower sends me my money, or the Bats comes to his doom. Either way, you’ll be let out scott free afterwards. Or, you can leave,” he gestured towards the door in the lair they were in that proudly boasted a glowing red EXIT sign. “Any time you want,” he told them, smiling sinisterly. Because, of course, the only way to the exit was past a puzzle.

“In order to leave, you just have to possess at least two brain cells to rub together. I know, a hard feat nowadays to manage. To get to the exit, you have to find a way past the trick wall in front of you. Just fair warning, every wall is a trick wall so don’t try to pull any fancy tricks. Each brick is either safe, a deterrent, or a trick. And be careful, tricks can either give you a paper cut or a haircut a few inches too low to cut only hair, if you can understand my meaning. If you were smart, you’d just stay put.”

And Damian stared at his Soulmate, who didn’t even know he was right then, as she was the only one standing as the rest of them sat. Damian and Jon were seated because they knew Batman and co. Would be coming soon to bail them out, and neither boy could risk outing their identity. All of them had their wrists zip tied behind their backs, but that didn’t seem to stop Marinette from staying standing up defiantly and analyzing their surroundings.

“Are you gonna just stand there, or do something, little girl?” Riddler’s voice came back over the speakers. He wasn’t in the room with them, communicating over an intercom and attached TV screen. “Is your bravado all for show, or do you actually plan to escape?”

Marinette turned her glare to the live feed on the flat screen.

“I’m not the one hiding in a separate bunker, Riddler,” she retorted calmly. She was in a room with only Damian, Jon, a few of her friends, and walls of potentially dangerous traps. There were no gunmen this time. No immediate threats. Marinette could let a little Ladybug through this time.

Her hands twitched with an urge to punch something that was just being amplified by the ring around her neck.

Maybe a little Lady Noir could come through too, for a change.

Riddler twitched, and Damian could only stare as his soulmate stared down a Gotham rogue and even insulted him without hesitation or fear in her stance or face.

“Marinette!” Alix hissed, tugging at the girl’s uniform pants. “Get down! We’ll get out of here soon enough, don’t upset the supervillain!” She begged her friend. Marinette looked down at the pinkette, frowning.

“No, Alix! He isn’t even brave enough to fight his own battles, he lets puzzles and traps and hostages do his dirty work. I’m not about to sit down and let him treat me like I’m some helpless little kid. I stay quiet enough at school,” she hissed back softly, not about to back down this time. The bit about their class made Ivan and Kim flinch, along with Max and Juleka, who had also been taken. Adrien would have flinched, but the basketball game alone had drained him of all his recovering stamina for the day. This added stress was getting to him.

The blond, who had been eerily silent, started to cough. The pigtailed rebel of the group instantly turned to him, her face paper white as the model couldn’t seem to stop coughing. Specks of blood dipped out of his palms that were covering his mouth. and onto the ground.

“Shit,” Damian cursed. Jon wrapped an arm around the smaller boy, trying to get him to calm down and take deep breaths.

“There. Slow and steady,” Jon whispered to Adrien. “I knew you were sick, bud, but I didn’t think it was this bad. No worries though, we’ll get you checked out as soon as we get outta here,” he assured the fencer before looking up and locking eyes with Marinette. She nodded.

“Even more of a reason to get out as soon as possible instead of waiting around. Adrien needs a doctor. Max, is Markov..?”

The techie shook his head. “Back at the hotel, along with my better tech. My phone was taken.”

The pigtailed teen sighed, but wasn’t surprised. She reached up and took out the ribbons in her hair, tying them together and ignoring the unusual feel of her hair being loose behind her neck. It was usually something reserved for bedtime, but she wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

“Alix, you have your roller blades on you, right?” The pinkette blinked in surprise before nodding, pulling the objects out of her bag.

“Yeah, why?”

Marinette didn’t answer, taking only one shoe and popping off two wheels. Alix made a face, but didn’t complain.

“Ivan, you carry around extra hair supplies for Mylene, right?” She held out a hand without waiting for an answer. “Could you give me some rubber bands?”

Holding her tied-together ribbons in her mouth, Marinette quickly tied the two rollerblade wheels together with the rubber bands, and tied her ribbons around the rubber bands to make them into a sort of axel. Makeshift yo-yo. She grinned, rolling the improvised weapon up and turning to the wall.

“What are you doing?” Damian asked slowly, standing to cover her back. Jon could watch the civilians just fine, he wasn’t leaving his soulmate without an extra pair of eyes just in case. Marinette was rapidly scanning the wall separating them from the exit.

“The wall is a puzzle, which means there has to be a pattern. All the bricks look pretty much the same, but we should be able to find the pattern without touching the wall if we look hard enough. We don’t have that kind of time though, so I’m going the old-fashioned trial-and-error way.”

“What?” Damian barked, but didn’t get in her way. “You can’t be that reckless—“

“I’m not going to touch the wall,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “This is,” she used that moment to swing her makeshift yo-yo at a brick above everyone’s heads. It pressed in, and nothing happened. It just slid back to make a step. Marinette grinned, rewinding her DIY tweaking and swinging it at the brick right next to the safe one, which swung away to reveal a muzzle that shot a stream of fire above everyone’s heads. “Predictable,” she muttered with a triumphant grin. “If I’m right, anyway. This could just be beginner’s luck.” She rewound and swung the ribbon-wheel-rubber band contraption a few more times, setting off only a few more traps. The solution printed itself in her mind.

Damian’s eyebrows raised, recognizing the pattern she was creating— or tracing— with her weighted whip. For a long moment, though only the other people in the room noticed, the two soulmates wore identical smug smirks.

“You got it,” Damian whispered, impressed and pleased before he surged forward. “Here, Get the lower ones. Your whip won’t reach the top of the wall, I’ll climb up and get those,” he offered, turning to make sure he had her approval. The girl’s face twisted into reluctance, clearly not wanting to put him in danger. The youngest Wayne put a hand on her shoulder, offering her a solid nod of reassurance. “I’ll be fine. I know the pattern now, and I have a fast reaction speed just in case. We also need someone to make sure there aren’t thugs waiting on the other side just in case, and I have a decent background in martial arts. Riddler doesn’t usually lie about his puzzles, but you can never be too careful with a Rogue.”

Marinette’s lips thinned again, but she nodded. A few thuds of her improvised weapon later, and Damian had the footholds necessary to climb up and press the bricks that were too high to reach.

The pattern made a question mark right in the center of the wall, but the top two rows of bricks before the empty space above the wall were all trick stones, meaning Damian had to carefully heave himself over and onto the platform waiting for them on top of the trapped obstacle. He took a quick look around before nodding to himself and looking down.

“All clear! Send Adrien up first,” he called, holding his arm down so he could help the Agreste heir when he got high enough. “Be careful not to press against these stones, you’ll set off a trap. When you pull yourselves over, keep your body straight and away from the wall,” the civilian-dressed vigilante instructed after they all successfully helped Adrien over onto the platform. Behind them, Riddler was suspiciously quiet and the TV didn’t turn back on.

They soon found out why. Only Marinette, Jon, and Max were still on the wrong side of the puzzle wall when a hidden door was kicked in and Batman stormed in alongside Red Robin. Both vigilantes froze at the sight of the unharmed teens already almost out. Marinette waved to them sheepishly, and Damian groaned.

“You mean there was a door there the whole time?” He groused, annoyed.

“It’s for the best,” Red Robin told him, shaking his head. “The riddler’s bunker was back there, and it’s a dead end unless you wanna squeeze through broken windows. Red Hood is tying him up right now, he’ll come out behind us. Though, we didn’t expect you all to already be almost out.”

Batman shot his grapple at the top of the wall, beckoning to Max and Marinette as Jon scrambled up the solved puzzle wall. “Let’s make this go by faster.”

Ten minutes later, and everyone was out. Red Hood manhandled Riddler away to the cops, and for the second time on their trip Marinette and her friends found school blankets settled over their shoulders.

“Well,” Max started, blinking. “I kinda expected worse, actually.”

Juleka nodded, tilting her head. “Yeah, that was kinda… tame…”

Marinette sighed, looking over at the two. “Of course,” she answered shortly, no longer patient with her classmates (no longer friends) now that they were all out of danger. “Riddler has a known soft spot for kids, and this was just a ransom scheme. Riddler’s actually been reforming for the past few years too, he most likely just had a relapse. None of his schemes for the past two years have been nearly as convoluted as beforehand and they are all months apart. Which you would know if you did my suggested research into Gotham’s rogues that I gave you before the trip,” she told them monotonously. She was done coddling them, they didn’t seem nearly as phased by this Riddler fiasco as they did by the failed robbery the week before. Then again, no guns or deaths were involved this time.

“That is correct, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Though I was hoping we wouldn’t see each other again so soon,” Batman spoke, approaching the group of teens as Hood and Red Robin explained things to the cops present. “But the puzzle was still something that should have taken at least an hour to solve. Good work doing it so quickly. And your improvisation is also impressive.”

Marinette blushed, looking down at the contraption she still hadn’t taken apart. “It’s nothing. I know the kinds of things my classmates always carry around, and I knew we needed something weighted to trigger the bricks, so…”

Batman grinned, a quick and very small thing that Marinette was sure she hallucinated. “Still, good work using your brain and keeping a cool head. You made our job easier. But let’s both try to keep any more excitement like this from happening on your trip.”

Marinette laughed, nodding. “I don’t know what I can do to help with that, but I’ll do my best anyway.”

—*—*—*—*—*

That night, after their daily spar, Robin braced his hands on his knees and panted. He was exhausted despite the fact that their bodies weren’t actually real in their mental world, and the physical strain was all simulated. Marinette had actually won, for the first time since they had begun the daily practice.

“Woo!” Marinette raised her fists in sloppy victory, just as out of breath as Robin. “I must be on a roll today! Lucky!”

“You’re Ladybug,” Robin suddenly blurted out. Normally he would have tensed at the slip, but for some reason the admission of his suspicion felt normal. Casual. Right. So he remained relaxed. Marinette went silent, looking over at him with a straight face for a long second before her lips slightly curled up at the corners.

“And you’re Damian, right?” She shot back, her voice soft and gentle. They looked into each other’s eyes as they continued to pant, both of their accusations in the open between them now.

Neither of them claimed to be innocent.

And that was okay. For some reason, neither of them minded that their identities had been found out. Maybe they had known for a few days, now. But they spent every night together, every sleeping hour in each other’s presence. They sparred. They gamed. Marinette was trying to teach him how to cook, and he was trying to teach her swordplay.

They knew each other pretty well, for only having met twelve days ago. And they had a lifetime to keep getting to know each other. This was just the next step. The next piece of knowledge to fill out the puzzle of who their soulmate was.

And it felt right to have it filled in, officially.

—*—*—*—*—*

[sasuhinasno1fan]

The deer of the forest- Luktober Day 10

Oh look, another prompt from @write-it-motherfuckers, not that I’m really complaining. They’re prompts are good and there are others of there’s I hope to use one day. I didn’t have a solid idea, but then I found this prompt and I had to. I also tried my hand at second person point of view I think it’s called? The point of view the prompts are usually in, I would usually change the pronouns, fix the tense, but to challenge myself, I left Luka’s point of view as that and had Adrien’s in my usual third person. I hope it sounds ok and you like it. I mean, I wouldn’t be that surprised if this actually happens to Luka. He probably attracts all sorts of mythical creatures. Deer 

You found a stag a few weeks ago, on the edge of the forest that surrounded your home. It was in bad shape, its body covered in grime, and a number of wounds visible. It was a strange looking thing, bigger than any stag you had ever seen, antlers badly broken, and eyes a strange silvery colour all over. At first you had thought maybe it was blind, but it seemed to see perfectly despite its strange eyes. 

It took a lot of effort, but eventually you managed to get the poor animal inside your garage, as it was too big to take anywhere else. Luckily the thing remained lethargic and peaceful, mostly allowing you to manhandle it as you pleased. Part of you couldn’t help but wonder how it had even survived here so long. The forest was dying, the trees and plants rotting, the animals sick, and the water poisoned. It was a hard living out here, and the only reason you survived yourself, was because you had other resources, unlike the animals of this area. Despite the fact that most of the people who had been causing this place to die, had left almost a year ago, the damage was too great.

Though you held out little hope for the animal, something urged you to try. After giving it a thorough wash, so that you could treat its wounds, you were shocked to find that it was actually a startling white, rather than the dull brownish grey, you had assumed. The stag had a lot of wounds, all that you treated to the best of your ability, the town not really having a vet, thanks to its now minuscule size, and you being unable to move an animal of this size to somewhere else. 

After weeks of careful care and love though, the stag was looking a lot healthier and livelier. The creature even seemed to trust you. To your surprise, its antlers were regrowing at an astonishing rate, its wounds healing quickly too. The antlers themselves were bizarre, massive and pointed, they looked like the cluttered branches of a tree. There were even small random nubs on the antlers, that kind of reminded you of flower buds. You had never seen anything like it, but somehow it seemed to fit the unusual creature perfectly. 

While cutting up some food for the stag, you pause, peering out the window. You can’t help but wonder, at what point the forest started to regain life. You had been so focused with your strange new charge, that you hadn’t even noticed the way the forest and its creatures seemed to perk up a little bit every day. Even the waters were clearing, as the days went by.

You’re so focused on the scene outside the window, you don’t hear the sound of hooves against the tile floor. You do feel the unwelcome nose pushing itself under your jacket and between your legs. You let out a surprised yelp, the apple and knife in your hand dropping into the sink as you push the nose away. It’s the first time you’ve seen the stag anywhere but the garage. It was starting to try and stand up, but you’d never seen it walk much, no doubt still weak from its injuries. But this white stag seems to love nothing but to surprise you so you wonder how you’re even confused at what you’re seeing at this point.

You scratch underneath its chin, its head leaning into your palm like a cat getting attention. The nubs on its antlers have grown bigger and a part of you thinks of the forest spirit from pictures, with ivy and flowers growing from its antlers. But you know those are the things of fairy tales. You’re broken out of your thoughts by the stag starting to chew on the sleeve of your jacket.

“Alright, alright. If you didn’t get so impatient, I’d be done by now.” You quickly finish cutting the apple. You know that the stag would have no trouble biting through seeds but you’ve been spoiling your little charge and you can’t help it. You moved into the French countryside when the city you grew up in became so overcrowded with noise you couldn’t stand. You came to this family cottage, the only thing left of your father not counting his eye colour, hoping to find peace, but you wondered how long it would last because of state of the nature around you. so many others were gone and you didn’t think the sudden peak in change would change that. You didn’t mind being alone but you also wanted company. Maybe that’s why you spoiled the stag, it was the only company you had so far.

You hand feed the stag, watching the sliced disappear into its mouth and still come begging for more attention. You let it lick your hand clean, using the other to pet it between the ears, selfishly hoping for a moment that it won’t want to leave. You know you shouldn’t. it’s a wild animal who even though it easily accepted help, probably had a home in the healing forest. You couldn’t keep it chained here just to keep yourself from feeling lonely. A bitter pill to swallow, yes, but a necessary one.

                                           ____________________

His father was wrong it seemed. He told Adrien that humans cared only for themselves, that they only destroyed and never cared for what they left behind. For a while he did believe it. The area that belonged to him, the one he protected was being treated horribly. Turning into a white stag caused hunters to come after him and scientist wanted to study his horns. Their case after him started to affect his domain. For every bad thing they did to him, it affected the forest life around it. Before he knew it, he ran them out of town, but they left destruction behind them.

he was so close to dying, thinking his father was right, but then a human helped him. Dark hair, with shades of light blue in it, odd little pricks of metal in his face and ears, his nails dark like some of the tar left on the trees. He thought he was a creature, but he smelt human. He cooed over him, asking out loud what had happened to him. He brought him to his home, even if Adrien’s size didn’t make it easy. The human washed him down, fed him, treated his wounds. He cared for him and in return, unknowingly helped the forest area around him. He’d been feeling up to walking today, a big leap in how he was feeling earlier and went looking for the human, surprising him when he stuck his nose between his legs. He’d seen mothers doing it to their young when helping them to stand, he didn’t know why he reacted like that. But he scratched under his chin and he felt himself melt. He was like a wildcat despite usually changing into a deer and eating the apples out of the painted nails hand was nice too.

He wanted to change back into his normal form, but he knew that wouldn’t be for a while. The forest was healing, but it still needed more time before his powers would allow him to change back. It was fine though; he liked this time with his human. His…Luka. He could only assume that was his name. he heard him once answer with ‘Luka here’ on those odd-looking objects that some humans seemed glued too.

He was resting now in his usual place, warm in his round and soft bed, an equally soft blanket over him. Luka had gone into town and the house was quiet, only the sounds of the recovering area singing to him.

“There you are!” he looked to see a large black cat; his green eyes narrowed at him. Only a moment later was a dark-skinned man, black hair as long and wild as the fur on the cat that once stood there. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you? I knew you weren’t dead because the forest still had some life to it, but we couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“They came after me in this form. I had to keep them away from you and try to escape. They didn’t make it easy.” He said, this thought easily going to the man in front of him.

He kneeled and looked at Adrien’s antlers, the buds growing. “When do you think they’ll bloom?”

“Not all of them will. There’s still much healing to be done. But I’m recovering, so that means something.”

“A human is taking care of you?”

“Yes. It seems father was wrong about all humans. Or at least, this one.”

The man scoffed. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Plagg.” he scolded lightly. He couldn’t blame his closest friend. He came to this forest and bonded himself to it because trying to live in the forest he grew up in felt like trying to bring life back to the areas full of steel and metal and loud noise. “I’m getting better. I know I’ll eventually be better to leave, but…I want to thank him first.”

Plagg raised an eyebrow. “You seemed to be attached.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Whatever. I’ll be nearby. Once you feel able to come back, just call for me. Adrien, I am really glad you’re ok.”

“Me too. And we have him to thank for that.”

                                               ________________

You noticed a black cat leaving your garage as you come home from sending things at the post office. It’s easy to work from home, though most emails have to be sent from town rather than your own home because of the weak signal. You see the stag, still sitting in its bed, its head turned to you as you walk inside. It didn’t seem bothered so you guessed a cat felt curious and came to look. It also fills you with hope. The stag was the only animal you’d seen since you arrived. If others were coming out, that plus the slowly recovering area meant to things were finally fixing themselves.

As the days went on, the stag continued to walk, getting better and stronger. Its wounds were gone and its fur was starting to glow. It still begged for attention like a spoiled pet and since it could now follow you into the house, its pleas became constant.

The dreams that started confused you. you’d be walking thorough a forest, one out of a fairy tale, or maybe what the one outside the cottage used to look like. Standing under a drooping tree would be your stag, white fur gleaming, its eyes a bright icy blue, the antlers bursting with flowers. Mostly white ones, but dotted with pale pastels. And then in its place, would be a boy. No, not boy, he looked to be the same age as you, but he seemed so innocent and delicate. He looked different than the stag, his hair like spun gold and his green eyes shinning in the sun. even if he didn’t have the same flower dotted antlers upon his head, you still know that the person is your stag. You could see it in the kind eyes and gentle smile. Before you could ask his name or anything, you’d wake up, visions of what he looked like escaping your memory.

You’d watch the stage explore the garden, not chewing on the newly grown grass, but nudging at it, like it was trying to encourage it. Your favourite movie is Princess Mononoke, a story about a human raised by wolves wanting to protect her home and a cursed prince who honoured the gods and tried to help protect them. you look at the odd nubs on the antlers, that seem to be becoming a different colour, like flowers ready to bloom and you wonder if you helped a forest god. Then the stag comes, tugging at your jacket, like it does when it wants something, its eyes trained on the handful of nuts you’ve been eating. It seems so unlikely, but you’ve been known to attract some odd things before.

[mythandlaur]

A Change in the Weather

[AO3]

Fandom: Terraria Pairing: Guide/Dryad Rating: Gen WC: 2945

Description: Another cycle has come and gone, but in the interim, a friend appears to offer comfort and show the Guide something that may indicate change is near. (References to 1.4 spoilers.)

With a twang of his bowstring, another flying fish fell from the sky, its remains quickly absorbed back into the earth leaving nothing but a few scattered coins behind.

A brief scan of the sky revealed no more of the creatures in the immediate vicinity, and the Guide turned to continue walking down the hill, not bothering to retrieve his arrow--he’d always have more when he needed them, anyway. One of the few perks.

It was times like these that he wished he had something more to do in the cycle’s dull periods than idle target practice. He didn’t mind the aimless wandering, of course, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it after all this time, but he tended to get restless after a cycle’s end, especially an end like this one. He couldn’t ever be sure how much of that restlessness was his.

The rain was beginning to come down harder, now, the wind picking up, forcing Guide to take refuge under a tree. Perhaps not the best idea, if the thunder in the distance was any indication, but the worst that could happen would be him getting fried by lightning, which would be more of a nice change of pace than anything else. His shirt clung to his skin, his drenched hair fell in his face, and he had no doubt that the pitiful ring of flowers on his head was rapidly disintegrating--but even so, the rain didn’t bother him. It was a bit of a comfort, even.

Things didn’t burn as easily in the rain.

And besides, Guide was quite used to being out in the thick of it without a refuge, whether that was due to his own wanderings or a particularly mean-spirited hero who would either never give him anywhere to live or fill his entire living quarters with a thin layer of lava (really, he knew--or at least hoped--it was a coincidence, but it was one he’d prefer not to deal with more than he already had to, given the apparent love of hackey-sack he could only assume by now that most demons possessed.)

He let himself slide down the trunk of the tree until he was sitting in the mud, casting his bow off beside him and pulling off his glasses in a pitiful attempt to clean them on his soaked shirt. While the rain wasn’t a problem, the thunder in the distance and the growing wind was a bit of a concern--he hadn’t seen it storming like this in quite some time. He could try and head back the way he came, towards the little village he’d just departed, but he wasn’t certain if getting caught in a thunderstorm was better or worse than the looks he’d get and the amount of questions he’d have to give half-baked answers to.

No, on second thought, the thunderstorm was by far the better option.

Guide closed his eyes and prepared to settle in for the afternoon--not to sleep, of course, but to enjoy the sound of the rain from the refuge of the tree, the moisture under his hands, the sweet smell of life in the air. There was a comforting familiarity to it that brought to mind fonder memories, and he idly reached up a hand, almost afraid to touch the garland that sat there for fear it had dissolved.

To his surprise, not only was the garland still there, but as he touched it, the stem of one of the flowers messily sticking out from it spontaneously curled around his finger.

Guide blinked his eyes open, squinting through the rain and standing up, one hand still on the garland. A rustling sounded from above him, and his gaze turned upwards, though the top of the tree was just an indistinct blob of green with his wet glasses still in his other hand.

“If you’re gonna attack me, be my guest,” he said to the leaves, opening his arms to his sides with a bemused smirk.

More rustling, and then--a mass of lighter green seemed to practically melt out of the leaves, forming a humanoid figure that landed in a crouch on the earth with the grace of a cat. Guide slipped his glasses back on as the figure stood, and even through the raindrop trails on the lenses, he could see green hair and clothes of leaves and vines.

Most dryads looked the same, but the even brighter green eyes of this one and the style of her hair and clothes left her unmistakable.

A wry smile replaced the smirk, and he held out his arms wider. “Offer’s still open, you know.”

Alalia scoffed, though a smile as light as a spring breeze touched the corners of her lips as she shook her head. “No, no. We’ve already been through that, remember?”

“Listen, I’ve got a lot of things on my mind. You expect me to remember one dryad trying to kill me--oh, wait.” A hand went playfully to his chin, and Alalia laughed. As soft as it was, the sound alone seemed to cause all the weight and tension to drop out of his shoulders, and he couldn’t help but laugh in turn.

“Should you be out in this weather?” Alalia asked, once she’d collected herself. A tone of amusement still sang under her words. “I spoke to my sister from your hero’s village--she said you were faring well. Shouldn’t you…”

She trailed off, likely noticing all of the mirth fall off of his face. “Yeah, about that…” Guide’s gaze pointedly dropped to the ground, and he could see Alalia cringe out of the corner of his eye. He let out a heavy sigh. “Last night. Even managed to warn this one, but, you know...summoners.” The unspoken truth hung in the air for a few moments, even the sound of the rain gaining a more solemn edge. Guide glanced up and tried to force a signature smirk. “Couldn’t have waited a few more hours, huh? Inconsiderate.”

Alalia’s brows knit in concern. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, I guess.” At her reproachful gaze, he relented. “Been better. This one died quick, at least.”

“Yes...at least…”

She trailed off. The thick, humid air between them was suddenly much less comforting, seeming to collect in his mouth to choke him as he avoided her gaze. He hated this. He hated having to keep telling her this. He hated having to go through cycle after cycle with nothing changing, always ending the same way, and him always stupidly having some spark of hope that things would be different this time around.

Honestly, he was surprised that it hadn’t squashed all the hope and humanity he had left out of him yet.

Alalia’s gentle touch to his wrist brought him out of his spiraling thoughts, and Guide looked up. Her eyes were full of concern. “Do you want to stay out here in the rain?”

Guide opened his mouth to wave off her concerns, probably with a cheeky quip, but a flicker of lightning and the low rumble of thunder immediately after made him reconsider. “...You know what, actually, nah, I’d rather not go back to being dead so fast.”

“Good.” The tight edges of her expression softened ever so slightly as her hand gripped his. “I had something to show you, anyway. You will be interested.”

The little cave entrance was as good a shelter as any, and truthfully, Guide felt a lot safer with a spirit of Terraria itself guarding him from whatever wayward creatures might appear at the opening. He sat with his back against the wall, Alalia beside him, the flickering light of a torch he’d affixed to the dirt above illuminating their refuge even as the clouds outside made it nearly dark as night.

“...Can’t remember the last time it stormed this bad,” Guide observed, still trying ineffectively to dry off his glasses. “I mean, can’t say I pay a whole lot of attention to the rain, anymore, but…”

“No, you’re right.” Alalia was turned away from him, knees curled up to her chest as she stared intently out of the cave. For a while, she didn’t elaborate, letting her statement be punctuated only by the now near-constant grumble of the sky. “...There has been a change.”

“A change?” Guide puts his glasses back on and sits up straighter. “I--we would’ve noticed something.”

“Not a large one. Not one that would have affected...it, much less you. But the world is always shifting, however slightly.” Alalia turns back to him. “Or perhaps this shift did affect it. I wanted you to take a look at something.”

“Looking at things is, quite literally, my job.”

She gave a quiet snort, and pulled out, seemingly from nowhere, a small glass jar, holding it out towards him without another word. He leaned in for a better look at the contents, squinting through the raindrops still stubbornly resting on his glasses. A leaf from a jungle tree, still budding with moisture, had been placed carefully on the bottom of the jar. On top of that was sprinkled a few blades of what he recognized as wilted Hallowed grass, and on top of that…He didn’t immediately recognize the creature. It would be easy to mistake for a common butterfly, were it not for the brilliant, vivid colors that still shone along its body and pearlescent wings, seeming to glow with a multicolored light of its own even though the creature was clearly dead.

Alalia nudged the jar closer to him, and he reached out to rest a hand against it. His eyebrows shot up as the world’s knowledge flowed through him. “A prismatic lacewing…”

“As I thought.” Alalia gave the jar and the creature within a sad smile. “The fae queen’s favorite.”

“But how?” Guide took his hand from the jar, turning his gaze back to Alalia. “No one’s seen one of these things in...well.”

“One of my sisters told me. A very small patch of Hallow reappeared at the edge of one of the jungles, clearly trying to regrow. We are not sure why. Errant souls, perhaps?” She closed her eyes and sighed. “It...did not last long, of course. It was only a few pixies and this poor creature. It died when the Hallow faded. I wanted you to see it before I returned it to the earth, since…”

She trailed off, but the implication was a heavy weight in the air. If the Hallow were to ever exist again, it would be in a world where he was well and truly dead.

“...It’s beautiful,” he managed. “I wish I could’ve seen it alive.”

“I do, too.”

Alalia offered him the jar again, and he took it in both hands, setting it in his lap and peering down at it. There was a certain roiling that grew in the pit of his stomach upon looking at a Hallowed creature, something he desperately swallowed down because he knew the feeling wasn’t his. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, made a concerted effort to relax and force the feeling back down his throat.

The creature was beautiful, regardless of its origins. He would stand by that. It was his opinion, and his alone that mattered.

Guide opened his eyes again, only to see Alalia staring at the ground with an air of melancholy about her. He glanced over in her direction, waiting for her to say something. If she wanted to, she would.

“...Do you know anything about the fae queen,” she asked, eventually. “I was very young when the Hallow vanished.”

“The Empress.” He pursed his lips, wracking his brain. “...You know I don’t remember a whole lot about...before.” Before the seal. Before the cycles. Before his role. Before it. Even his name from back then had been long lost. Perhaps that was for the best. “But I have read some things. They say she was a tyrant…”

“You know how they speak of all things Hallowed.”

“It wasn’t good, Layli. I mean--it was good. But it was too much.” His shoulders slumped, and his gaze dropped back to the butterfly. “You know about the things in the dark, but...too much light can blind a person. There’s gotta be balance.”

“I know. I just...suppose I wish that were not the way of things, at times.”

“I wish I could pretend sometimes, too. I’d be over the moon--” A brief grimace of pain crossed his face. “--okay, poor choice of words. I’d be thrilled if the world didn’t have any dark in it. Of course I would. But…”

“...it is not something someone in your position can choose to ignore,” Alalia finished.

Guide nodded. “I don’t know why they did it. Sealed the whole thing away. But...I’ve gotta believe there was a reason. I can’t not believe there was a reason.”

Alalia bit her lip, crossing her legs under her. Guide just watched the butterfly, as if it would start moving again if he stared at it long enough. They were quickly swallowed by the sound of the rain and thunder, seeming to wrap around them in a thick blanket.

“...Do you think she is...alive? The Empress? That she has not been...consumed?”

“I don’t want to ask.”

“Then don’t ask.” She watched him with a sudden, acute intensity that never failed to bring a warmth to his face. “What do you think?”

“...I think…” It took him a moment. “...I think if it couldn’t get rid of the dark souls, it couldn’t get rid of the light ones, either. From what I know, she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Maybe you’ll see her again.” And hopefully you won’t regret it.

“Yes, perhaps…” There was a slight sadness to her tone that eluded him, and she turned to stare out the cave entrance again. Another silence. Another slow, languid roll of thunder. And then; “Since when did you make flower crowns?”

Guide jolted, a bit taken aback as his hand flew to his head. He’d nearly forgotten about that. “I--uh--there’ve been a lot more flowers around lately. I needed something to do, and it, uh…” He ducked his head, suddenly unable to look directly at her. “...it made me feel better. About the whole thing.” Because it made me think of you.

When he dared to glance up, she was smiling gently at him, though there was a look in her eyes all the knowledge of the world can’t help him place. “It is a mess,” she chuckled.

“Not all of us can just grow them,” he pouted.

She reached over and plucked the garland off his head, ignoring his whine of protest and setting it down on the ground in front of them. It did look rough, now that he could see it. “I will help you make another once the storm is through.”

“I’d like that.”

They lapsed into silence once more. The thunder was growing more distant, the rain less intense, though the sky was still dark, and truthfully, Guide didn’t particularly feel like getting up and heading back out there. Even if he’d just come back to life, he was still utterly exhausted, and the gentler sound of the rain was soothing. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the dirt wall. He’d gotten very good at just drifting without actually sleeping. Sleeping was too dangerous. But it was so tempting…

It took him a moment to realize he’d rolled his head to the side so it was resting on Alalia’s shoulder. Guide abruptly sat up straight, scooting away from the dryad down the wall. She immediately turned to stare at him in puzzlement as his face heated up again.

“Guide.” Her voice was stern. “When was the last time you slept.”

“Last night. I was dead.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“You know how it is.” The lord of eternal nightmares was no easy curse to bear. Truthfully, he’d slept a few nights ago, unable to resist the call of a bed this hero had generously given him--and apparently, he’d gotten up in his sleep, walked out the front door, and started mowing down zombies with hellfire arrows, which was concerning on a number of levels. He hadn’t known it could do that.

It was getting stronger. Or perhaps he was finally getting weaker. It had taken long enough, he supposed.

Alalia reached out her arm towards him, the look on her face leaving no room for argument. Face still burning, he moved over to her--and as soon as he was within her reach, she wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him in so his head was resting on her shoulder. She smelled of flowers and earth and the world after rain. He thought he might drown in it.

“Rest,” she insisted, reaching up to pluck his glasses off his face. “You are safe.”

They both knew that wasn’t true. But he appreciated the sentiment.

He closed his eyes and relaxed against her, still clutching the lacewing jar in his hands. His body felt like it weighed a ton, and even though he was reluctant, the pull of sleep was too strong.

His dreams were the same as ever; flickers of fire and rage and screaming, blurry flashes of things that were wrong and awful and not meant for his waking mind to know. But even when primal fear gripped him, its hold and the images that came with it always quickly melted away, into the sound of pattering rain and the smell of petrichor.

[themis-moved]

hello my brain decided to turn on for like exactly one hour for me to churn out some writing. no proofreading we post flat like [GENDER REDACTED]

this is the story of the meeting between daron and sheridan :)

Daron huffed as she chopped through the thick undergrowth of the Nepone forest. It was a hot and humid day on Acias, and she was out exploring as usual. She could have sworn that the path she cleared out just a couple days before was totally regrown by now. It was a mystery to everyone how the Nepone forest seemed to fix itself, if not reinforced itself, in mere days. Some people had superstitions of magical beings that were responsible for filling the forest with energy, while others believed it was simply a happening of the landscape.

So here she was again, carving out the same path for what seemed like the hundredth time. She felt like it got easier every time, like she was getting farther and farther each time around, but there wasn't the clearest ways of knowing. Just like the undergrowth seemed to re-flourish, any markings or carvings made into the trees would be healed too. Daron had tried to do exactly that before and she wasn't able to find the marking she made the next day.

Today felt different, though. The plants seemed to honestly fall away easier than usual; she usually had to hack at them for a few minutes before being able to break through. It felt as easy as cutting grass this time. Being grateful for the break, Daron tried not to dwell on it, taking her blessings as they came. Thank you, Devr, she thought with a small smile. Hopefully her energy wouldn't go to waste.

She continued her task for a couple hours longer, stopping for a break every so often before continuing her exploration of the forest. As time passed, Daron moved farther and farther away from the sunlight at the entrance of her path. Sunlight still filtered through the canopy, but it wasn't nearly as bright as outside the forest. She soon saw a bright patch through the trees; she assumed it was a clearing in the forest. She was excited - this was something new!

Daron continued cutting her way through the forest, rapidly approaching the clearing. She was keen on seeing what could be there - whether it was a simple open field, something decrepit, or by some chance, another person's camp. It was considerably quiet in the area; bugs were trilling in the heat, but the birds didn't seem to be around.

As she broke through, she observed the area. It was interesting; it was open and grassy, but the vast majority of the trees surrounding the area were completely covered in viney overgrowth. That was the first thing that caught her attention, before she looked around more and noticed that the grass appeared to be cut down in a small area. She cautiously held her machete at her side as she approached the clearing, wondering what would've created it.

Eventually Daron saw that there was someone laying there, in the middle of it all. They were laying on the ground, on a pile of vines. They didn't react when Daron approached; she wondered if they were dead, or asleep. Only one way to find out, she wondered, boldly stepping towards the person. As she got closer she noticed that not only were they laying on the vines, but that they were also intertwined in the plants as well. She put her hand on their shoulder and gently shook.

"Hey... Hello? Are you okay?" Daron asked, concerned. In a split second she realized she didn't need to be at all - the person snapped awake in a moment, thoroughly alarmed by the touch. A few incomprehensible moments later, Daron found herself held in place by the vines with this strange person a yard away, looking at her in bewilderment. They immediately shot off questions: "Who are you? What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Daron frowned at them. She pulled one of her arms from the vines that held her, but couldn't move. "I thought you were dead! You were just laying there in the field." She said, clearly upset. In the sudden frenzy, her machete had been knocked out of her hand and was laying on the ground now. Daron looked at it before looking back at the stranger.

"I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Daron." She told them. They gave her a suspicious look, still clearly anxious, and did not respond. "Will you tell me your name? ...Are you controlling these vines?" Daron asked.

The strange person gave her another look before responding. "Yes, I am. My name is Sheridan. You still didn't say how you found me."

Daron sighed. So she would have to play by their rules, as long as she was held by these plants... so she had to oblige their questions. "I don't understand what you mean. You say that like I meant to find you," Daron started, "I was just cutting down plants in the forest to explore, and I found this clearing, and I saw you. What's your problem?" She was clearly bitter about the situation at hand.

Sheridan squinted at her before stepping towards Daron, leaning down and picking up her machete. "I have... reasons... to be paranoid. And I'm not totally convinced, considering you dropped this when I restrained you," they said, widely gesturing with it.

Daron raised an eyebrow at them, looking down at the plants holding her in place, and then looking at Sheridan again. "Uh... I don't think you have very much to be afraid of, here." She said.

Sheridan contemplated on her comment, nodding when they realized and agreed that they clearly had the upper hand. The vines on Daron grew slack.

Daron flexed her arm, popping a joint. That was certainly one of the more unpleasant experiences of her life. She turned to Sheridan again. "Can I have my machete back, or are you going to threaten me with my own weapon?" She asked.

Sheridan shook their head. "No. Not yet. I don't trust you," they said, still watching her. "You cannot leave until we come to an agreement." They told her.

Daron gave her a questioning look. "And... why is that?" She asked. Sheridan gestured for her to sit down, vines crawling across the ground to offer a softer seat than dirt. They sat first, and spoke after Daron did the same.

"Because I am a protector. You, Daron, should not have even found me in the first place. It's dangerous if I let you just go tell the world about me... or any others like me." Sheridan began. Daron felt a vine wrap around her leg. "I control these plants; I protect this forest, and everything inside it. I have noticed and seen you coming into this forest; I am the one who prevented your entrance. My own negligence has put me in this situation."

Daron gave them a strange look, seeming skeptical. "You're the reason I've had so much trouble? You're the reason that the plants grow back, that the trees heal their markings?" She asked, baffled.

Sheridan nodded. "It's my purpose to protect this place, excuse me, from nosy people like you. This forest is full of secrets that should be left to rot, not sought out for gain," they told her. "The things I'm talking about are the things that made me like this." They said, gesturing, a variety of vines moving in response.

The pieces started falling into place for Daron. Something had happened to Sheridan, here, and they regrew the forest to prevent people from finding it, and using it again. Being as she was, this only sparked more of her curiosity. "If you want me to just be quiet and leave, then we're going to have a problem... but I'm willing to make a deal with you." Daron said, ideas lining up.

Sheridan gave her another suspicious look. They hated getting caught with an adventurer like this - the kind that wouldn't give in, the kind that wanted something in exchange. They sighed, knowing that they wouldn't be able to get out of this the same as Daron was stuck here until they finished. "Fine. What do you have in mind?" Sheridan asked.

"For one, I want to know - and see - what you're talking about. The vagueness has caught my interest. And second of all - I don't want to leave here empty handed. I've been coming out here for weeks with nothing to show for it." Daron said, excitement in her eye. She was finally finding something new.

Sheridan was silent for a while, considering what Daron said. They finally spoke up. "I will agree to this, but not for today," they started, looking at the sky. The sun was nearing the treetops, getting lower with every passing moment. "You can come back here. I will meet you here, early tomorrow, and I will show you." they told Daron. Sheridan reached down and picked a stem of rispere flowers from their vines, handing it to Daron as they said, "this is all I can give you for today."

It felt like a sweet sentiment to Daron. She stood up from the ground, offering a hand to help Sheridan back up too. They took her hand and was swiftly pulled back to their feet. Sheridan handed Daron back her machete, believing they could trust in her now.

"Thank you, Sheridan," Daron said, uncertain. She sheathed the machete in her belt. "I should leave now." She said, looking towards the quickly darkening sky. Sheridan nodded.

"I will see you tomorrow, Daron." They responded as Daron receded into the forest. The path she had cleared on her way in was still open as she left, and she managed to leave much faster than she entered. She was thankful to Sheridan for not regrowing the path.

[straykidsscribbles]

Flower Boy

Just something short and sweet inspired by a tumblr prompt I’d seen ages ago... it was cute and I thought I’d put my own spin on it! Happy Valentine’s Day!

Summary: Jeongin knew he wasn’t imagining things. His flowers were vanishing right before his eyes and he was not going to rest until he figured out who was responsible for the disappearance. 

Word Count: exactly 2000 words (for funsies), Jeongin x neutral reader

Note- this is fluffy and dorky but it mentions a relative who died and if that’s a trigger please don’t read this. 

Check out my masterlist (in my description) for more of my work!

Jeongin frowned thoughtfully as he counted the irises still blooming on the bush. One, two, three, four, five.

He could have sworn there had been at least seven yesterday.

“Jeongin, why are you staring at the bush? If you glare anymore, they’ll catch fire,” Chan chuckled softly from the porch of their house.

“But hyung, they’re vanishing! I’m telling you, there were seven yesterday, and now there’s only five! And the lavender bush looks more sparse too!”

Chan slid his feet into slippers and made his way over to the edge of the garden. After a few moments he let out a small thoughtful noise.  “You’re right. Your flowers are vanishing. Maybe its one of the others playing a trick on you or something?”

“I’m going to keep watch until I find out. I spent hours on the flowers; whoever’s messing with them is going to get it.”

A laugh escaped Chan as he went back inside to the kitchen to check on his pasta. “Call me if there’s blood kid.”

Okay, maybe I won’t make them bleed, but I swear if it’s Minho hyung’s cats messing them up or Kkami tearing things someone is going to pay for this.

Jeongin had a plan. No one was going to mess with his flowers again.

---

Dew was twinkling lightly on the pretty green plants and grass in the front garden. The light breeze was blowing the wind chimes every so often, filling the air with pretty tinkling noises. It felt peaceful and calm, so unlike the normal hubbub that would fill the house once the rest of the boys dragged themselves out of bed.

Shifting slightly behind the stack of soil bags and various gardening implements, Jeongin shivered slightly in the crisp morning air. He’d counted the days that the flowers went missing, and it was always a Tuesday morning when he’d discover the theft.

So naturally, his Tuesday morning was now being spent crouched in the middle of a flower bed with his phone in hand, ready to snap photos of whomsoever was taking his flowers. This way he’d have proof to accuse the pets—it really was unreasonable how Hyunjin believed Kkami was a perfect angel who could do no wrong.

And that was when he heard the humming.

Someone was walking down the lane, humming quietly to themselves as they approached the fence that bordered the garden. Jeongin ducked lower behind the pile hiding him from view; being caught at this stage would probably not be very pleasant.

He peeked out from behind the edge of the shovel, to see a figure in a hoodie and sweats slide their hand through the fence and pick a few of the marigolds growing at the very edge of the garden. “Sorry about this,” the stranger murmured as they pulled their hand back through the fence and turned to go on their way.

Jeongin stared after the retreating figure in shock. He’d expected an animal of some time, but a person? Picking his flowers?

He needed a new plan to catch them in the act.

---

“Jeongin, let it go, they’re just flowers!” Seungmin rolled his eyes from his perch on the kitchen counter.

“They’re not JUST flowers! I spend time on those! I work hard to make sure they stay alive, no thanks to you people. Do you think every college house looks this nice?” Jeongin was spluttering at this point. “Whoever that jerk is taking my flowers they’re in for it.”

Felix grinned from the dining room table where he had his homework all spread out. “How are you planning on confronting them Jeonginnie?”

“I’ll think of something. But I’m not letting my poor plants be terrorized another week.”

Just at that moment, the door swung open and Changbin, Chan, and Jisung entered, dragging their feet after another long night of composing and even longer morning of classes.

“Excellent. Channie hyung help me knock some sense into this kid. He’s ready to set up this elaborate Rube Goldberg-esque trap to stop someone from stealing his flowers. I mean really?”

“Oh cool! I think I built something like that for a high school project!” Jisung bounced over to his room, energy already refueled at the mention of a new project.

“Wait Jisung! Get back here!” Changbin ran after the younger boy, trying to stop him before he tore through the old papers piled under his bed.

Jisung was something of a pack rat.

“Why don’t you just ask the thief what they need the flowers for?” came the mutter from a half-asleep Minho on the couch.

Jeongin looked taken aback for a moment.

“You mean just… wait for them and ask why they’re stealing flowers?”

“Yeah. There’s probably a reason.”

“Huh” Jeongin frowned to himself. “That would probably work.”

“Great now you can go tell Jisung to not get to crazy planning some wild complicated thing,”

“I heard that! Fuck off!”

“Language!”

The house slowly dissolved back into the chaos that had characterized it ever since the nine of them had moved in together. But Jeongin felt slightly more at ease. He had a plan now.

---

You padded down the sidewalk early Tuesday morning, hands jammed inside your pockets to keep them warm in the cold temperatures. Light frost sparkled on the lawns around you, glittering in the dawn light.

You could make out the flower house—as you’d dubbed it—twenty or so feet away from you. Muttering a small apology under your breath, you quickly covered the distance to the flower garden in a corner of the front yard and slipped your hand through the fence to pick the pretty daisies that were lining the edge of the brick retaining wall.

“So. Who are you stealing flowers for? They’d better be really cute to be worth it.”

You let out a little scream, wheeling around and almost falling over. There, in front of you, was a boy. Where did he pop out from?

He was staring at you with one eyebrow raised, amusement and disdain warring on his face. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was tapping one foot against the ground impatiently.

“I was—”

“Well? I’m assuming you’re stealing my flowers to give to someone, and I want to meet them. Might as well see who’s been getting the products of my hard work this whole time.” The boy frowned at you. “Go ahead, grab the marigolds, a couple of the stems are already broken.”

You gaped at the unknown boy. This is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened in my life. I thought some sweet old lady lived here, not a cute boy.

“Come on then!” Realizing you were still in shock, the boy reached through the fence himself and plucked five marigolds and a sprig of baby’s breath.

“I’m so sorry I just… broke student life you know? I’m really sorry about stealing your flowers…” you trailed off, realizing the boy had never introduced himself.

“Jeongin. Apologies won’t get you out of it that easily. I’m coming along on your date and telling your partner where you’ve been getting them flowers. What’s your name? Or should I just call you flower thief?”

Arguing was probably not going to get you anywhere. The only way out of this was going to be the truth… maybe Jeongin would take pity on you once he saw where you were going.

“I’m ______.”

“Cool. Now that we’re introduced, I can follow you without being a weirdo. Let’s get going, can’t keep your friend waiting for their flowers.”

You nodded slowly and began walking once more. Jeongin fell into step with you, flowers dangling from his long fingers. The two of you walked onwards in silence, turning the corner and nearing your destination.

After a couple of blocks, the graveyard came into view. And you heard Jeongin let out a tiny little gasp as the reason for the flowers dawned on him.

You pushed your way inside the wrought iron gate, taking the now familiar path towards the grave under the oak tree. You knelt next to the headstone and smiled sadly at the worn granite.

“Hi Grandmum. I guess it’s time to come clean about the flowers… Jeongin’s been the one growing them. I’m sorry I couldn’t… but then you know how bad my green thumb is. I’m more likely to bring you half dead cacti.”

Jeongin bent down next to you and placed the marigolds on the grave. He was quiet, no longer brash and belligerent.

“Anyways, I’ll come see you next week… love you.” You wiped away the tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as you stood up and turned to leave.

There was silence as you made your way out of the graveyard. Jeongin followed you quietly, not really daring to even look you in the eyes. You held the gate open for him and then closed and latched it behind him, before turning back to head to his house once more.

“So, pretty enough to warrant me stealing your flowers?” You asked, cracking a light smile at the boy.

It was almost as though a dam had just burst. “Oh my god I am so sorry I had no idea! I was so rude and harsh I—I’m so sorry!” The words flooded out of his mouth, tripping and twisting him up.

Your smile grew a little. Jeongin was pretty cute when he was all flustered like this.

“It’s okay, really. She’s been gone for a few years, but I still try and visit her once a week… thanks for the flowers by the way. I can never keep them alive myself, and when I saw yours… I didn’t think anyone would miss them.”

“About the flowers,” Jeongin scratched the back of his head nervously, before turning to face you once more. “I could maybe teach you a couple of my tricks, and you can grow some of your own? You could help regrow all the flowers you’ve picked from my garden.”

“I’d take you up on that offer, but I’d probably just kill all your flowers.”

Jeongin laughed, a sound that made your heart skip a beat. “Trust me. One of my friends almost killed a potted iris by watering it too much. I think we’ll be fine.”

You looked down at the cracks in the sidewalk, turning the offer over in your head. Maybe it was worth it? Jeongin seemed really sweet and kind.

“Alright, but you can’t blame me when all your green children die.”

“They won’t.”

You’d reached the gate of Jeongin’s house, and he paused next to it. “Are you free tomorrow around this time?”

You felt your cheeks heating up, but you nodded. A bright smile spread across his lips and you couldn’t help but return it.

“Perfect. I’ll see you then for your first lesson.”

He waved as he closed the gate behind him and latched it before running up to the door. You watched him go before turning back towards your own home.

He was really kind of cute. And sweet.

You couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning. Even if you had to wake up ridiculously early just to see Jeongin, you had a feeling it would be worth it.

Bonus:

“So, who’s your flower thief kid?” Minho asked as Jeongin entered the house.

To his surprise, Jeongin blushed heavily, turning towards the kitchen without saying another word.

“Hey! I was talking. No respect from you youngsters these days,” Minho cribbed as he followed Jeongin. “Guys! He’s hiding something.”

“Don’t bother Minho. I saw the whole thing.” Woojin smirked at Jeongin’s blushing face. “So, you’re going to teach your flower thief gardening? Careful they don’t steal your heart along with those flowers.”

“SHUT UP HYUNG!” Jeongin flounced off to his bedroom, cheeks fully aflame now.

Woojin just high fived Minho as they watched.

“You up for teasing the kid after his date tomorrow?”

“Is that even a question?”

[tired-angry-fuki-writes]

A Heart that do not Waver, A Soul that do not change

Ch.I

Something that was teared in half still continues to wander its path. The mask reveals what's behind it and the kind gesture fruits in journey to the south.

"Hmmm..." a man purrs in wonder, emptying his pipe into the ash in irori. Flames cover the insides of the room in fiery glow, casting wild shadows. "So you really want to learn this style?" His big, bulging eyes fixate on the girl again. Her face has this serious expression that is making her look like person who is much older than she is in fact, but looks younger than their age. Such a strange thought he's having.

"Yes. I made up my mind," she says, undisturbed, calm and determination in her voice and gleam in her eyes that have nothing to do with said glow.

"I would not recommend it, you know," he says clearly with care in his voice.

"With all my respect toward you, master, but that doesn't matter. My decision is final," the blonde bowed slightly when she spoke. The old man let out a heavy sigh, but small smile appeared on his lips. She always was persistent one.

"I think you should think about it more. It's kind of... difficult one. It may turn out to be inconvenient in your case. And most importantly, why this one though?"

"Many reasons," she stated shortly. Silence fell upon the two.

"Is it because of her?" The man asked, breaking it.

Girl reached for the long object wrapped neatly in white fabric and placed it across her lap. She didn't say anything more.

It is because of her.

The girl runned through the forest. Chirping of the bugs, humming of the leaves and rustle of the groundcover under her light steps mixed all together, occasionally interrupted by the thud of her jumping on the ground or silent cracks when she stepped on a stick. She visibly wasn't in hurry, but nor she looked like having lot of time. Her pace slowed into a jog and she crouched down burying her fingers into damp moss to catch firmer balance. Her eyes peered down intensively, yet somehow with calm, examinating something in the green carpet. Soft rustle came from the near bushes behind her back and the head of blonde locks snaps upward, eyes staring into the dark depths of forest with new intensity. Hare bursts out from between tge leaves and runs desperately in whatever direction, causing the same bushes to rustle again. But the girl seems undisturbed by it, dark brown orbs focused on something deep between trees. Her brows furrow slightly, and then her eyes suddenly are wide open in surprise.

"Huh?" She blinks owlishly and solidifies, unmoving like under the spell. She staring in same direction for a while before jumping into run.

Girl slid the shoji and spilled the water from wooden basin onto the stone steps, when she noticed someone on the engawa. She placed a hand over her forehead to cover the eyes from bright sunlight and recognized the figure. The girl hesitated for a moment, observing the person before balancing the basin on her hip and approaching them slowly. She was trying to choose the right words on her way, but she couldn't, so she just stood there in silence looking down at the back of the other kid. She took a deep breath and spoke finally.

"Isn't it boring for you?" She asked, and then looked at the sky where their eyes were focused.

"No, they always change, it can't be boring," a kid replied cheerfuly, but didn't paid much attention to the girl at first. She squeezed her lips, eyebrows knitted when she looked, unsure, to the side.

"Everything is all right?" The kid asked suddenly, looking the girl in the face with warm smile. She nodded and looked at the sky.

"Hai. I guess it can't be boring," she mumbled. The kid returned their gaze to the sky and began to hum, drawing shapes in the air with a finger. Girl turned her steps back inside, leaving the basin next to the door and marched the corridor until she spotted a woman with basket full of clean sheets in her hands, talking with the younger one. She stopped in her tracks, fiddling with the sleeve of her uniform, battle inside her head. The younger woman spotted the worried kid and the talk was cut as the other turned to face her. She smiled and approached the girl.

She leaned to look her in the face, "What is it? Is it about her?"

The girl blinks and then darts her gaze away, pressing her lips together again.

It is about her.

Her hand reaches for the mask on the back of her head and pulls it on her face in one quick move, while the other hand wanders to her hip and lands on the sheath just below the guard.

She runs leaning forward, jumping over fallen trees and bouncing of rocks or stubs. She lopes, every step ripping the moss and grass from the ground and throwing it into the air.

Kumo no kokyu. She repeats calmly in her thoughts focusing on the sensation of air filling her lungs to the very depths of it. Bouncing off the tree she jump onto the thick branch, landing in crouch. One thrust is in the guard with thumb is what it take to make the blade click off its sheath.

It's for her.

She pushes off of the branch with all the strength in her legs and it quakes under the the impact.

But I should rather say...

Her hands catch the blade spinning in the air before she begins to fall, knees brought to her chest and hands high above her head.

...It's for us both.

Shi no kata... It's appearing in her head unwittingly, when she's gritting her teeth.

Because, we were like one.

...Ukiyo no Taoreru!

Blade flashes in moonlight when it's swung down. She lands on the ground crouching when the sliced off arm swirls in the air spraying the blood around before it falls onto the ground with heavy thud, and falls apart into ash.

So I am carrying that on...

Demon growls deeply, peering over its shoulder on her when she stands up and turns her body to face it, flicking the blood from the blade bathed in blue glow. She looks to the side where her eyes lands on the young man, reduced to quivering mess with tears flowing down his cheeks. His hand bleeds badly, even despite the fact that he pressures the wound with all his might.

She throws her look back at the monster, gesturing the man to run. And he doesn't hesitate for a second.

"A hunter?" Demon humms eyeing her from head to toe when his arm regrows. She just stands, unmoving and analysing the enemy.

"You'll regret that you got up so early. I'm going to break every of your bones before eating you alive, boy!"

It yells leaping straight in her direction.

...with that given word to do not change.

Burgundy haired boy yawns as he marches down the road between two rice fields.

"A-aah, I hope we'll make it in time, Nezuko. The sun will rise soon," Tanjiro mumbles sleepily. He was wrenched away from the bed by the cries of his crow annoucing next mission. But something suddenly stops him in his track. His eyes widen as he sucks air into his nostrils.

A smell of blood.

Tanjirou is tenses up in alarm when he sees someone running in his direction. The smell of fear is strong enough for him to recognize even despite the distance between him and a stranger. He rushes toward them and when the face of young male comes into view he can see him cry.

"Is everything alright? What happened?" Tanjiro shouts to him before the man falls to the ground desperately grabbing his Haori. He's covered with his own blood.

"The woods! Don't go in there! The demon!"

"The demon?!" Burgundy haired boy gasps.

"Yes! A man eating demon! A boy appeared and I run away, he's going to get eaten! Please don't go there, you'll get killed too!" He cries. Tanjirou gently grabs hands of a young man in his own.

"Calm down, everything is going to be alright now, run to your house and get someone to treat your wound. I can't help you now. I need to take care of that thing before this boy will get eaten, okay?" He explains calmly and the terrified man nods, seeming eased a little bit.

"But you'll die!" He states, but Tanjiro just smiles.

"Don't worry about me, I can handle it," he replies letting go off his hands. "Go, and don't look back or slow down until you are safe in your house," he says looking up at the woods where the man emerged with his brow slightly knitted. He has to hurry.

The smell of blood leads him to the place. He can see the demon figure towering over someone fallen to the ground, and the monster is ready to attack. Tanjirou is gritting his teeth after a deep breath. Mizu no kokyu, ni no kata, he thinks with his sword unsheathed and jumps in the direction of demon.

Shimatta, I won't make it. Think, Think!

"Hey!" The boy shouts and demons head instantaneously turns toward him. He lifts his sword, but all he sees is a flash in the moonlight and a splash of blood from the neck of the monster. The masked boy is standing like in swallow pose, a sword with blood on it in one of his hand. He does a flip landing gracefully on his feet when the head bounces off the moss and rolls on the ground.

Tanjirou is so shocked that he can't move for two seconds. And it's enough to make it too late for him to stop before he'll be able to not hit the tree. He must act quick, so he rolls on the ground and it's the last thing he can remember.

Tanjirou squeezes his eyelids in sudden pain concurrent with his comeback to consciousness. He hears a rustle and when he tries to open his eyes the first thing that comes into view is complete blur. He blinks few times and sees a kitsune mask really close to his face.

"Uwaaah!" A sound escapes his mouth at an unexpected view startling the stranger and causing them to jump slightly. They're out of balance and fall back, sitting on his stomach. Tanjiro coughs at the sensation of their weight on his guts and they must've understood what caused it because they quickly jump back moving off of him.

He crawls back, leaning on his elbows and looking at the silhouette sitting between his legs with the linked knees.

"Ah, sorry. I didn't meant to scare you," a soft voice is weakish by the mask, but the sound of it surprise the boy. The mask is removed from the face of a stranger and his eyes widen.

"I just thought you were dead," the owner of the sweet voice stated with a small smile and Tanjirou somehow couldn't bring himself to look away from the beautiful face of young girl with clever and vigilant eyes in the colour of rich soil.

Partly from surprise, that behind the mask is the girl not a boy like he thought, and partly caught by her eye-pleasing appereance he stares at the blonde bathed in bright sun rays blankly before speaking.

"A... are you a demon slayer?" He asks before the silence was about to get any more awkward. It was a stupid question, according to the fact he saw her decapitate a demon and she is wearing an uniform, but it allows him to get back to his senses.

"Hai. You are too, aren't you?" She says when he is standing up. Tanjirou offers her a hand to help, and she accepts it.

"Arigato," she mumbles and gives him a soft smile before brushing away the the blades of grass and dust from her clothes. He peeks at her chest to confirm that he isn't mistaken, and the person before him is not a boy as he thought and as the man he encountered assumed. He notices the bulge under the uniform just in the moment she looks up at him.

"Kamado Tanjirou!" He bursts out, trying to not let the pink hue stain his cheeks. "My name is Kamado Tanjirou."

She smiles weakly again.

"Furuse Ikoiyo. Nice to meet you Tanjirou-san," she bowed slightly, so he did the same. Silence falls upon them again and Tanjirou feels the need to break it.

"Anoo... it may be a stupid question but did you was assigned to this mission, Ikoiyo-san?"

"Iie. Why are you asking, Tanjirou-san?"

"Because I was assigned to kill the demon roaming these woods. But you made it before I could, I guess."

"I'm sorry for my interruption then," she states plainly

"Iie, it's nothing, I mean, I... I should thank you," he laughed nervously scratching the back of his head. But suddenly something came to his mind, shadowing it like dark thunder clouds covering the sky and sun.

"The box," he mumbled, "I had the box with me. Furuse-san, did you...?!"

But he doesn't have the chance to finish, as the girl hands it to him. Feeling the weight of Nezuko inside he felt the clutch of dread leaving his heart. He sighs with relief while girl is putting on her haori. Tanjirou appreciates the traditional cloud and wave patterns on it in silence. It was pretty.

"Hee? Why did you covered it?" He asks innocently, clearly a bit puzzled.

"I thought it was precious to you. It seems expensive and made with special purpose," she explains adjusting the sleeves. He only prays that she won't ask what was that purpose.

"How are you feeling? You hit your head pretty hard when you tried to save me," Ikoiyo asks, causing him to feel relieved that she decided to not continue the topic.

"Ah, I'm fine. My head is really hard. Thank you for asking," he chuckles. "How long I was unconscious?"

"A little more than hour and half," she replies, "the dawn already came a while ago. You was breathing so I decided to wait till you wake up, but I started to worry if you're still alive. Your breath was getting so silent. Again, I'm sorry for scaring you."

"It's nothing, really. Thank you for taking care of me."

"I'm happy to help," she gave him a sweet, kind smile bowing her head gently. An idea popped into Tanjirou's mind.

"Ikoiyo-san! Are you hungry?" He grabbed her hand into his own, sparkles in his burgundy eyes as he stared into her brown ones.

"Huh?"

"Let me treat you to breakfast for doing my job with that demon and watching over me when I was asleep! Onegaishimasu!"

~☁~

"So you was on your way back? Tanjirou asked, munching on the chashu from his ramen and looking at Ikoiyo. The street was wide awake with chatter and the sounds of stiring pan filled the small booth they were in.

She slurps on the noodles, nodding.

"Mhm," she swallows, "but I decided to take a longer way and check the woods."

"That's strange but incredible. If you wasn't there that man could die. But what made you check it? You knew there could be a demon?"

"Gut feeling," she states shortly, shurging.

"I don't know if it's correct to ask, but how long have you been in Slaying Corps?"

"It's okay. Hmm..." she looks at the ceiling in wonder, "three months, I think."

"Huh? But I haven't seen you on final selection this year."

"Ah, it's a stupid and embarrassing story," she looked to the side, slightly embarrassed but Tanjirou can still see her face and that she's smiling. "I got a serious blood loss from a flesh wound and I got on the place first and passed right away. So I've been send off to treatment immediately. It's not something to be proud of, I know, but I won't mind if you laugh."

"I'm not going to laugh, Ikoiyo-san. You did well surviving and you should be proud. Many kids did not make it," sad, ruthful smile was adorning Tanjirous face when he looked in his bowl, "But I cannot say it's not kinda funny story. You finished first, but couldn't hold on to the beginning of ceremony. Fate is sometimes so wanton, right?" He smiles brightly looking up at the girl. She chuckles at his words.

"It sure is," she sighs calmly, leaning over the table and supporting her head with a hand. Her palm is placed on her cheek, and Tanjirou catches himself thinking that she look cute.

"I'm happy I met you, given that I had no chance back at the selection. It's nice to met another slayer, especially same rank as mine!" He stated happily.

"I also haven't encountered any Tsuchinoe yet and here - the first I met is so nice," she smiled, but Tanjirous face goes gloomy and awkward at the same time.

"Tsuchinoe? Your rank is...?" He asks weakly.

"Hmm? And yours?" She asks looking a bit of puzzled.

"I'm... I'm a Mizunoto... still... I think. The best case scenario Mizunoe," he mumbles weakly dropping his head.

"Ah, don't worry! Don't be sad over it. I'm just overworking," she starts straightening up and waving her hands. Blonde is looking at him with wide eyes, worried slightly. "Tanjirou-san."

Boy lifts his head to look at her after she called his name.

"I have no doubts you're doing great so don't over think it, i don't want to make you sad after you bought me a breakfast," she gives him close-eyed smile and then turns her gaze to the side, lightly embarrassed. He couldn't help but smile too.

"You're right," he sighed, "I'll use this as my motivation to grow stronger!" He lifts his clencged fists in the air out of the motivation, with the broad smile and sparkles in his eyes.

"So, Tanjirou-san, what are you planning on now?" Ikoiyo asks, changing the topic quickly.

"Hee?" Her question brings him back to reality from his planning about getting stronger. Tanjirou looks at her, clearly puzzled and she blinks owlishly at the boy.

"Caw caw! South! South!" The cry filled the air when black bird was circling in the air next to the booth they were in. They turned around in their seats looking at the row on the street.

"Kamado Tanjirou and Furuse Ikoiyo! Caw! Your next mission is South! Head south! Caw!" It continued the announcement as the bystanders looked at it, uneasy about talking bird.

A woman squeaks when the other bird flies right above her head and past the curtain of the both. It lands on the Ikoiyo shoulder and she looks at the boy

"Well looks like I got an answer."

Word count: 3161

Here we go with Chapter One. I hope the POV jumping and lenght wasn't something tiresome or confusing, but caught your attention. And I hope you enjoyed our baby boy appereance. Let me know what you think!

[notalwaysthevillian]

Into the Deep

Warnings: Talk about death, arguing, food mention

Word Count: ~1.1k

Pairings: Platonic LAMP, Brotherly Logicality

Masterlist

Ch. 6

Two weeks passed and the four of them were still on the island. The extra growbeds were barely producing enough food as it was.

And then the storm hit.

Clouds covered the sky and the rain poured down, filling the growbeds with water. Patton watched, horrified, from inside the habitat. He reached for the handle of the bulkhead, getting pulled back by Logan.

“Patton, I insist that you stay inside the base for your own protection. We can regrow the plants. I can’t lose my only brother.”

Patton could see the distress on Logan’s face, something he didn’t see often. “Lo, I know you’re worried about me, but I have to create a way for them to drain. If I don’t, we’ll starve.”

“You have to let him go,” Virgil said. “I’m worried too, but he’d find a way to sneak out of the base either way.”

“Besides, it’s not as though you know how to drain the growbeds. And we’ve all seen you try to grow plants. You have a black thumb.” Roman added.

Looking between the three of them, Logan sighed. “Fine. Patton, you can go.”

The second Patton was out of the base, Logan took a step forward. “Don’t ever tell me what to do again. I’m still the captain, and you will treat me as such.”

Roman took a step forward, but Virgil’s arm shot out, holding him back. “Lo, you’re one of my greatest friends, but let’s face it. You stopped being captain when the ship went down. If we don’t work together and listen to each other, we can forget about getting off this island.”

The two hot-heads glared at each other, but neither said a word. Virgil took this as a silent treaty and went back to his research, keeping an eye on Patton through the window.

Over the next few days, tensions between Roman and Logan rose. Roman disappeared in the mornings, taking his seaglide and not coming back until lunchtime. Each time he came back, Virgil and Patton bombarded him with questions about the different flora and fauna that he’d seen.

Their time on the island was becoming detrimental, but Logan didn’t want to admit it.

They were safe here.

“Logan, can we talk?”

Without turning around, Logan nodded, hitting the record button on his PDA.

There was a short pause before Roman started to speak. “Look, I know you hate it, but you’re the main reason we’re stuck here. You promised me enough credits to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life. Instead, I got stranded on this planet. It’s been six weeks. We aren’t any closer to rescue, our food supply is low, and we’ve had to dig out our habitat twice. When are you going to see that we can’t just sit here?”

Halfway through the rant, Logan had turned to face him. “I’m sorry, do you think you should be making the executive decisions? There’s a reason you didn’t pass the captain’s exam. It’s because you have no reason.”

“At least I know not to head toward uncharted planets!” Roman cried out, his face getting red with anger. “I know not to endanger the lives of the people close to me for a chance of discovery!”

“Hindsight is 20/20. If you’d been in that position, you would’ve made the same call.” Rising from his chair, Logan got face to face with the mercenary. “Did you simply come up here to berate my decisions?”

“No, I came up here to tell you that I have a plan.” Roman snapped. “We grab all the materials we can carry and head toward the spot I scouted. There’s a lot of metal deposits.”

“And where is this spot?” Logan questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Roman shrugged. “A few hundred meters deep.”

“A few hundred meters? How are we supposed to survive?”

“I talked to Patton and Virgil. If we make a few water filters and use a bioreactor for power, we’d live like queens. And we’d have all the fresh fish we can eat - Patton can even bring some Lantern Fruit.” Roman added, hoping to sway Logan’s decision. “Besides, it’s not like you have a better plan.”

Thinking hard, Logan realized that Roman was right. He had no plan.

“Fine. Send me the coordinates and I’ll make a decision.”

Roman pulled out his PDA and sent the information over. He paused at the bulkhead, looking over his shoulder. “There really isn’t a decision to make. It’s our only option and you know it.”

Leaving Logan to his thoughts, Roman headed back down the path. His eyes wandered over to the other side of the island, to the small lagoon he’d found. Deciding some peace would help ease his mind, he headed in that direction.

When he got there, he saw something glowing across the way. Taking the chance that something was in the water, he swam across to the tiny strip of sand.

The item he picked up was like nothing he’d ever seen before. A strange symbol glowed purple in the center of what appeared to be a tablet. He turned it over, finding no differences on the back.

“Weird.”

He spent almost an hour poking at it, hoping that a message would start or that a hologram would appear. When nothing happened, he stuck it in his pack and headed back to base.

Logan’s eyes were immediately on the tablet as Roman walked into the base.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know. I found it at the lagoon.” Roman said, waving a hand in that direction. “It was in the sand, but I’d never seen it there before.”

“Perhaps it was buried and the water washed away the sand covering it.” Logan reached out, taking it out of Roman’s hands as he spoke.

Patton watched as Logan tilted it every which way. “Do you think it’s part of another ship?”

“I’ve been on many ships, Pat, and none of them look like that.” Roman pointed out.

“We’re not the first people to come to this planet.” Virgil’s voice trembled as he came to his realization.

Roman snorted. “You think people made that? It’s probably aliens. For all we know, the seamonsters are smarter than we think. But we’ll never find out if we stay here.”

All eyes turned to Logan, awaiting his final decision.

Setting the tablet down, Logan let out a sigh. “I reviewed your proposal.”

“And?”

“Gather everything you can carry. We’re making a new base.”

[ideas-for-you-to-adopt]

She happened - Lena Luthor x reader

Lena Luthor x reader (this can be interpreted as platonic or a pre-relationship pov) Being like Deadpool with undying abilities and Spider-man's spider senses and ability to climb walls, and being friends with Lena Luthor It’s one of those nights again when Lena Luthor just had to stay late at L-Corp. All of the drama with the DEO, Supergirl and Reign made her frustrated, she just had to turn her frustrations into something else and so, she resolves on working tirelessly. It’s one of those nights again when another bunch of goons barged into her office. But what made this night different is having a feminine figure wearing a black and red tight full-on body suit knock out said hooligans instead of the regular red-caped blonde superhero. “Seriously, do you people ever go on vacations?” her exasperated voice rang out as she delivers a double high-kick hitting one of the men’s gun and knocking him down with the second kick hitting the head. Lena on the other hand reaches for her taser when she sees one of the previously knocked down men beginning to get up and fix his eyes on her. However, before the man can take a step towards her, a shoe hits him forcefully on the head. “And stay down!” You scan the room taking in the sight of the five intruders all lying unconscious on the floor before turning to her. “You okay, Miss Luthor?” You can practically see the distress on her face, her posture stiff and she looks ruffled. You take note of how she composes herself, her face becoming stoic and blank before answering you. “Yes, thank you. I’m fine.” If you noticed her voice shaking, you didn’t give any signs you did. You walked to the man closest to you, searched him for other weapons then dragged him to the center of the office. You did the same to the four intruders before going to the vent and taking out a rope and tying them all together. Her eyes scan your figure all as you do so. The double swords on your back getting her attention, she didn’t notice you use it, nor does she think you did. After all there is no blood. Your Y/H/C cascades down through your back but every inch of skin seems to be covered by your suit. Your eyes, nose, mouth--tour whole face covered by your mask. A grunt comes from one of the men and before he gains consciousness, you punch him again. “Is it really that hard for you people to sleep?” you rant frustratingly causing for Lena to raise an eyebrow and curl her lip up in amusement. “Who are you? You blink behind your mask, subconsciously stopping tying the henchmen, before turning your attention to her. “Oh, hello. I forgot you’re still there,” you rub the back of your neck in awkwardness. You contemplate thinking of what to tell her, clicking your tongue as you shrug. “Are you asking for my name? Not to be rude because I can’t tell you. Not because I shouldn’t but because I don’t really have one. Well, I used to have one but I sort of lost the right to use it.” “If you’re asking about my purpose--because intellectual people usually relates a name to a purpose, and I know you’re very intellectual,” you nod to her absentmindedly while doing a double not on the rope as if you’re tying a ribbon for a gift. “--well, I don’t have one too. I just really got curious about L-Corp seeing that it’s been years since I’ve last been to this city and then I saw the building and I heard you’re a genius so I figured I’d sneak in, see what genius CEOs do--I did it with Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark too, just so you know--and then these guys came in so I figured I’d help you out.” Your eyes widen behind the mask as you cover your mouth. “Oh my god, sorry. I tend to ramble when I get into a conversation. I usually don’t talk a lot,” you nervously add. You take note of the amused smirk she sports on her face. “Mean,” you pout eventhough you know she can’t see you. She chuckles and bites her lower lip trying to hold in a laughter. You cross your arms before sighing in defeat. “I just saved your life and you had the audacity to laugh at me.” She laughs out fully when you dramatically placed your hand in your heart. “For a hero, you’re something.” “Nuh-uh,” you shake your head in denial. “I’m no hero, thank you very much.” She raises her eyebrow in question but didn’t ask. “Maybe you should call security, Miss Luthor. Find out what these guys want,” you point out to her. “As for me.....” Lena’s eyes widen seeing you ran and jump off the balcony. Quickly, she looks down in search for you, her heart hammering through her chest. She didn’t notice a red and black figure at the other side of the building. “Works everytime,” you snicker as you crawl around the building. - The next morning, you nearly gave the workers at a nearby donut shop a heart attack when they saw you clinging at the kitchen ceiling at six in the morning. You reached down handing them money and an order of donuts to be picked at a certain time. You only told them to leave it on the roof of the building, just make sure it’s clean, before crawling away to the window. Hearing a thud, you thought of one of them fainting before shrugging it off. Lena has been reading through a pile of reports when she needed a pen. Not looking, she let her hand crawl until a pen dangles in front of her face, she takes it and uses it to make some notes before she stops and look up just to see you dangling upside-down from the ceiling. Needless to say, she almost fell off her seat. “What on earth?!” You wave at her cheerfully. “Hi!” Her chest moves up and down repeatedly as she tries to catch her breath. “Don’t do that,” she tells you. You shrug her off as you hold out the bag of donuts, making it dangle in front of her. “Donuts?” She eyes the donuts warily before taking it from you. She takes one and munches on it, almost moaning because of the taste. “Thanks, how did you know I--” she stops midsentence not seeing you in the room, most specifically, the ceiling. She walks out of her office only seeing Jess outside. “Is there something you need, Miss Luthor?” “O-oh, nothing,” she goes back to her office to return back to working. - It happens again, but with only the donuts appearing on her desk. And again. And again. Until she got used to finding donuts on top of her desk every morning. It became a habit for her to take her morning coffee with the donuts. Jess, at first, told her not to eat them saying they have no idea who it came from but Lena told her to just let it be and a friend delivers them to her every morning. And so one morning, she didn’t expect you to come with her donuts. “Well, hello. I didn’t expect you to be here. What made you show yourself this time?” she smiles at you, her eyes filled with curiosity while looking at you. You waited for her to sit on her chair before clearing your throat. “Well, I-uh,” you start off nervously, fidgeting, you point your index fingers together. “I overheard you say I was a friend. I was hoping you could help me with something.” You exhaled loudly before rummaging on a small bag you have with you, taking out two books and placing them on top of her desk. “Baby names?” Lena raises her eyebrow in question. “Y-yeah,” you nod. “Remember I told you I don’t have a name? I was hoping you can help me pick one I can use.” She sets the book down before staring at you intensely. “Why me?” “You said I was a friend,” you shyly respond. “And well, you’re the only one I really talk to so we’ll both benefit from it.” “Y/N,” Lena says as she leans against her seat. “I’ll call you Y/N.” “Y-Y/N,” you test it out, rolling it in your tongue. “I like it.” Lena could tell you were smiling behind your mask. - She finds out you can’t die, in an unexpected way. Lena was on her way home when a group of armed men blocked her car and demanded her to come with them. Fortunately, you were just behind Lena jumping and rolling off buildings here and there using parkour tricks along with your abilities. You were able to fight off most of them hand-to-hand until one guy shot you repeatedly, the bullets hitting you in the chest, stomach and through your head causing Lena to scream. She sobbed loudly as the henchmen dragged her into the van, only to pause upon hearing the sound of coughs. One-by-one, you coughed the bullets out. “Seriously, guys? A bullet through the skull?” you sarcastically say as you throw a punch at the man nearest you. “Do you know how much it hurts trying to regrow a brain?” Lena fainted after that. - She woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sight of her bedroom. She found you in the kitchen rummaging through her fridge looking for stuff to cook. “Morning,” you greet her without turning back. “How’s your head?” “Ugh, I think I have a migraine,” she answers as she takes a seat, resting her head and arms on the table. “As what can be expected from someone who bumped her head on pavement,” you hum out. “So, last night did happen?” she peeks through her arms. “What are you?” “Hmm,” you furrow your eyebrows thinking. “Mutant, I guess. I was an experiment gone rogue. Those fools gave me abilities, superhuman agility and reflexes, the ability to walk on walls, but most notably, I can’t die.” She nods before groaning, “I’ll just have some toast, please.” And all is well. - You usually hang around (literally) when Lena works. She doesn’t mind. And having high ceilings have its advantages, if ever bad guys pass through the tightened (for the nth time) security, she’s confident you’ll take care of it. What baffles her is why you hide in the vents when Jess enters. “Why do you do that?” she looks at you, tilting her head as she observes you. She’s gotten so used to your body language that she can easily read you even if you’re still unmasked. “Why do I do what?” you blink behind your mask and try to play it cool. Straightening your posture as you look down at her upside-down. “You always go to the vents whenever Jess comes in,” she points out. “Oh nothing,” you answer too quickly making her eyebrow raise. “You answered too fast.” “... Fine,” you sighed in defeat. “Have you seen her? She’s freaking scary!” Lena notices you shudder making her chuckle. “You’re fine with facing gunmen but you’re scared of my assistant?” she tries to cover her laugh making you snort. “I bet the reason those men choose to attack during the night is partly because of her,” you huff. “Jess is nice,” she points out. You sigh knowing she’s right. You notice how Jess takes care of Lena, reminding her to eat, sleep and that she’s human not a machine. “I never said she isn’t,” you pout. “Fine, I’ll say hi next time.” And you did..... You thanked Lena afterwards for having an office with a high ceiling. Pepper spray couldn’t reach you. - But being with Lena all day everyday at L-corp can be..... Boring. Like really boring. Especially when she's so focused on her work. And so you came up with ways to entertain yourself. “You’ve been hit by-- you’ve been struck by-- A smooth criminal... Dum du dumm dum.” Lena looks up as she hears you sing under your breath. Everything’s so quiet so she can hear you. “Are you doing the moonwalk... On my ceiling?” she asks you in amusement. You quickly break your pose and face her. “I got bored,” you shrug. She gets the feeling that if she could see your face, you’ll be looking at her innocently. She chuckles before typing back on her laptop. - And then came Kara. Kara Danvers, at first you found her extremely charming but then your spider senses rang around her. It’s like a predator entered the room when she got there. You tried not to make any movements but her actions tell you that she knows your there. She left soon after inviting Lena out to game night. And then Supergirl came. You barely had enough time to dodge when a streak of red and blue tried to tackle you catching Lena’s attention. “Supergirl!” Lena shouts “Lena get back!” Supergirl orders her. You unsheathe your double sword and flipped landing on the floor. “Who are you?” “I don’t tell people I don’t trust what my name is,” you hissed glaring at her through your suit. Lena watches the both of you warily before instinctively touching Supergirl’s arm trying to hold her back. Supergirl being in hero mode, shrug her off forcefully causing for her to slam to the side. “Oh Rao! Lena!” “Lee!” you shout out. The both of you rush and crouch down to her. “Rao! I’m so sorry, Lena!” Supergirl repeatedly apologizes. Lena just groans in pain. “Geez, can you please shut up already?” you snarl at Supergirl before turning your attention on Lena. Your tone softens as you help her up, “what hurts? We should go take you to the hospital.” The door to her office opens revealing Jess staring at the wall in shock. She then turns to look at the three of you. “What happened here?” You quickly point at Supergirl. “She happened.” Needless to say, it wasn’t a good first impression for the both of you.

[disruptedvice]

Starmora Prompt: Peter and Gamora's first Christmas with Elspeth Quill.

Summary:

“We’d make paper lights, like starsin the night sky, wrap them around the tree like a nice, warmblanket,” she told her daughter, miming stringing up the paperdecorations in the branches, then making what Peter calls ‘itsy-bitsyspider fingers’, mimicking the lights falling into place like ashimmering of dusting and snow, till the tree was covered andbeautiful.

The stars on her tree looked settled inher memory, like they were meant to be there, making their home onthe branches and finally coming to a rest. The paper stars were whiteand bright, jumping out and yet holding onto the dark, midnightleaves, making everything look so complete. The paper stars in hermemory. They tied everything together.

“Hey, that sounds kinda likeChristmas,” Peter noted without really thinking. He didn’t mean tointerrupt, but it just kinda slipped out.

“Chrismust?” Gamora asked, eyebrowsraised in curiosity as she glanced over at him. She hadn’t realizedshe had an audience other than the little girl in front of her.

It looked like he didn’t either,slumped over the counter the way he was, like he only meant to stayfor a few seconds before he got invested in story time. It made hersmile.

AO3 Link

___________

Winter Solstice__________

It’s the first timethey’ve celebrated this, ever.

Gamora’s never brought upthis holiday before. He had no idea it even existed. This is thefirst time she’s shared this Zehoberei tradition with him.

Apparently it was a verybig thing back on her home planet. Of the celebrated days, this wasthe most important to her people.

She’s never mentioned itbefore.

They’ve been married foryears, and a team for even longer, but this is the first Peter’shearing of it. The first time she’s shared it with him.

He doesn’t mind, though.He’s not bothered by it in the slightest, that this is his first timefinding out about this holiday that was apparently super importantback on Gamora’s home planet.

He knows how painfulmemories of home can be. How some things hurt less if you let themstay settled. How dredging things up and talking about them isn’talways the best thing to do for the sake of your emotional stabilityand sanity. He has first hand experience with that too.

Peter particularlyunderstands why she’s never brought it up before, and what changedthis year.

The solstice was a familyholiday, she said. A gathering and celebration she remembered fromher childhood.

Gamora and Peter have beenofficially family, husband and wife for years, and the Guardians havebeen unofficially family for even longer.

But even with her foundfamily and her husband, memories of the solstice were best left inthe past instead of being drudged up, for the sake of normalcy andemotional well being. That’s just how it had to be with some things.

But this year wasdifferent, because of the newest addition to their family. Theirdaughter.

Peter never knew he’d bethis lucky. He already thought he hit the jackpot with Gamora. Whenshe agreed to date his stupid ass, he thought he was the luckiestperson in the universe. Couldn’t get better than this. He already hadhis fortune shining on him.

Flash forward a bit, ofbeing together and thinking this was where his luck tapped out, andhe was fine with that being his peak.

Just when he thought hecouldn’t go any higher- that’s when she agreed to marry his stupidass. He was sure his luck had run out after that, that whatevercontrolled luckiness had spent all of Peter’s luck on Gamora, so hegot to spend the rest of his life with her.

But now, looking at Gamoracrouched and bouncing a 5 month old little girl, with light greenskin and big brown eyes in a white dress and black little booties, henever imagined anyone could be as lucky as he was, looking on at hisfamily right now.

Now, dredging up memoriesof the solstice wasn’t harmful in the way it might have been before.It wasn’t risking emotional stability dwelling on those memories fromthe past.

Now, it was healingbringing up the winter solstice.

Because of her. Theirdaughter.

Peter doesn’t mind thatthis is his first time hearing about it, since he knows this isGamora’s first time celebrating this special holiday in over 20years. She must have missed it.

He’s happy to becelebrating it with her for the first time since she was a child.He’s happy to share this with her.___________

“And we’d go off intothe everwoods,” Gamora continued, taking the black little shoesElspeth had on her feet and miming walking along the beaten path withher legs as she continued the tale. Elspeth loved her little bouncyswing, and it was always her favorite place for story time. Sheseemed very enraptured in the current story, but being a baby andall, she always liked hearing her momma’s voice and the wide eyed,big smile, vivid expressions that Gamora used during story time.“There were many things to collect, as an offering to Alma, inreturn as thanks for all our blessings. Everything she had providedfor us that year. The berries of Sau and the dripping leaves from theGogi flower were always good to make halos out of, in a circle, toshow how everything’s connected, continuing on and on,” she said,drawing a circle in the air, describing the creations that Peterthought must have looked a lot like wreaths, or flower crowns- somering made of fauna and foliage.

Elspeth kept trying tocatch her mother’s hands as she moved them as she talked, and Gamoragave them to her.

“But the most importantpart was the tree,” Gamora said so emphatically, in a hushed sortof exalted tone like she was sharing an exciting secret, stillholding onto her daughter’s tiny hands. “That’s what was so specialabout the everwoods. We would cut down one before it’s prime, leavingthe roots and trunk for it to regrow, and placing berries at the basein thanks, for all that it was giving up, so we were grateful to thetrees during the solstice.”___________

“We’d make paper lights,like stars in the night sky, wrap them around the tree like a nice,warm blanket,” she told her daughter, miming stringing up the paperdecorations in the branches, then making what Peter calls ‘itsy-bitsyspider fingers’, mimicking the lights falling into place like ashimmering of dusting and snow, till the tree was covered andbeautiful.

The stars on her treelooked settled in her memory, like they were meant to be there,making their home on the branches and finally coming to a rest. Thepaper stars were white and bright, jumping out and yet holding ontothe dark, midnight leaves, making everything look so complete. Thepaper stars in her memory. They tied everything together.

“Hey, that sounds kindalike Christmas,” Peter noted without really thinking. He didn’tmean to interrupt, but it just kinda slipped out.

“Chrismust?” Gamoraasked, eyebrows raised in curiosity as she glanced over at him. Shehadn’t realized she had an audience other than the little girl infront of her. Though it looked like he didn’t realize either, slumpedover with his elbow on the counter and supporting his head, like heonly meant to stay for a second or two, but then became invested instory time and settled in, getting quite comfortable practicallylaying on the countertop. Gamora smiled.

Peter flushed slightly. Hewas really caught up in her story, and didn’t mean to interrupt. Butnow Gamora was waiting for an explanation, so he gave it to her.

“A winter holiday we hadon Earth. We did stuff like that for Christmas too. Bringing home atree, decorating it with lights. And presents. We always put presentsunder the tree to open on Christmas morning.”

“Ah! We had giftexchanges on the solstice too!” Gamora brightened at this newshared discovery. Shared experience.

“You didn’t put themunder the tree, did you?” He asked with a facetious little smirk toshow he was only joking, knowing full well that sounded a bit toospecific to be replicated throughout the galaxy.

Some things weren’t thatsurprising to find out were rather universal concepts. Things likebirthdays. Turns out, lots of people liked celebrating the day youwere born, whether those people were on Terra, Xandar, Saakar… youget the point.

Having a winter holidaythat included the tradition of gift giving wasn’t that uncommoneither. People like giving and receiving gifts (well, a lot do), nomatter what planet they were from, and incorporated similar ideasinto their cultures to make for expressions of joy.

He would be sincerelysurprised to find that Terrans and Zehobereis agreed on the exactplacement of where to put their presents, though.

Gamora shook her head witha chuckle. “No, the gift giving was family to family. Every familyin the village would give one gift to another family, and they wouldreceive one gift from another family too. Like an exchange. One year,I helped out with the makings of our family’s gift. A basket, filledwith nuts and winter berries. I had picked flowers, and wove theminto the handles of the basket,” she smiled at the memory. “Mommasaid it was beautiful.”___________

“Why have you nevermentioned that before? You love talking about Earth traditions.”Gamora had stood up to join Peter, and gave him a very, very weakpunch in the shoulder, biting her lip as her eyes crinkled at thecorner.

Peter shrugged. “I‘unno. It’s been awhile. And Christmas was a pretty big deal onEarth, like your winter solstice, but I was born like a week beforeChristmas, so I think my mom tried to place a little bit less of anemphasis on Christmas and make my birthday a bigger deal, so itwouldn’t get lost. She always said something about celebrating thebirth of baby Peter and the birth of baby Jesus was her favorite timeof year.”

“Children were also oneof the blessings of Alma we celebrated at the solstice,” Gamorasaid, a fond look in her eye as she rested her head against Peter’sshoulder, watching their daughter play with her stacking blocks.

“Yeah, it’s a prettygood thing to celebrate,” Peter agreed, kissing the top of her headand pressing his smile into her hair.

Gamora moved in closer tohis side, and wrapped an arm around his waist, to hold him tight.

“It really is.”