#and my branch I mean it’s thicker than my head

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Channeling my inner Derek today by being transgender and outside

[godhandler]

yuuji x reader, idiots in love, 1300+, besties who have never had a kiss before <3

teenage midnights are for the delinquents, the up-to-no-good kids, the bad influences– namely, you and best friend!itadori yuuji. the stolen liquor bottles clink-clinked under your hoodies as you sneaked out the Jujutsu High kitchen, headed towards The Big Tree to execute the next part of your mission: try out alcoholism. 

gojo-sensei would have your heads if he knew what you two were up to. “careful, up ye go!” yuuji hoists you on his back so that you can reach up to one of the thicker branches and pull yourself up there. “don’ ye drop the bottles on my head.”

he’s a long way from Sendai but the accent stuck like gum under a school desk. you watch him easily climb up The Tree and sit on the branch (which bends a little under his weight) with you. the thick foliage now veils you two from the outside world, which is great because yuuji’s already producing the bottles from under his hoodie. “soju, whiskey, white rum,” he reads out your loot, “do ye think iss enough?”

“how should i know, i’ve never drank either.” you reply, before a pressing concern hits you. “yuuji, what if we get too drunk and fall off the tree?”

he pauses his attempt to bite the cap off the whiskey before taking his yellow hoodie off. you let your eyes wander (why not? not like he’ll notice) across his collarbones, biceps, the outline of his abs barely visible through his tank top, the promise of facial hair under his jaw. he wraps his hoodie around your waists together, tying the sleeves into a knot, temple-like circle of protection around you two. 

how could anyone not fall for yuuji? how could you not? but itadori yuuji is a teenage boy, and like all teenage boys, he’s never comprehended the idea that the pretty girl he has a crush on might like him back. he doesn’t see the way you look at him when he’s not looking, he doesn’t get that you enjoy his company a bit more than a friend would. he doesn’t know that he’s not the only one in love.  

“don’ worry, i’ve gotcha. we won’ fall now.” “yuuji, we’re tied to each other, not the tree. now we’ll just fall off together.”

you stifle a shared giggle at his idiocy (everything is funnier when you’re breaking rules). “i don’ mind,” and even in the dark you can tell that his cheeks are as cherry-pink as his fluffy hair. “i’d fall with ye alright.” 

as carefree as you can affect, you try to look elsewhere, at the glittery tokyo city skyline and the stars overhead because you’re blushing hard as well. how can you not when he says things like that? 

you clear your throat: “aren’t you cold, yuuji? it’s december.” 

he flexes his arms at that, “i’m strong, don’ worry.”   

“lemme–” you scoot closer to him, almost nose-to-nose (or chest-to-boobs, in yuuji’s mind, who is desperately trying to not think of it), sharing body heat, so mammalian. the branch shakes when you move. the bottles, squeezed between the two of you, clink. “–warmer now?”

“ye-yeah,” he picks up the whisky, “wanna try?”

“damn, we didn’t bring glasses, yuuji!”  “what are ya even talkin' about? just drink normal,” which is what he says, but as you give him the bottle back after your first sip (“yuckk, it’s disgusting, like hand sanitizer!”) he realises his grave mistake. you put your lips on the rim, you drank from it, your tongue licked off the drop at the end. it’s like an indirect kiss. 

“i… i guess so, yuuji, but you don’t have to take it like that. you can… uh, you can wipe the rim before you drink? my mouth is clean, i brushed–and i floss too–” 

fuck, i said it loud out? yuuji panics a little. “no, no i don’ mind, i didn’ mean it like that! yer clean! there’s no need to wipe the rim–”

“i really don’t mind, now that you say it, it is like an indirect kiss–”

“– i don’ wanna wipe the rim! i’d indirect kiss ye anytime!” 

the world is never rawer than it is at fifteen. 

yuuji backpedals as gracefully as a dying cockroach. “i’m drunk. ignore me.” he hasn’t even had a single sip. “that was sukuna speakin’.” 

internally screaming at his own cringefail behaviour, the boy doesn’t realise that despite whatever throne he’s raised you to in his head, you’re just the same as him. the most pathetic creature of all humanity: a teen in love. 

courage. have courage! i’m a strong independent woman and i speak my mind!

but it comes out as a whisper, “i don’t mind indirectly kissing you, yuuji.” and you immediately backtrack as well: “i’m sorry. i’m drunk too.” you had ONE fucking sip. 

yuuji can feel your breath on his neck, your lashes fluttering against his skin. anymore of this and he’s going to melt into a puddle. he doesn’t even realise when his hand reaches under your hoodie to rest against the curve of your waist. but you do, you can’t help shivering at his touch– his rough palm, his fingers curled, nails slightly denting crescents onto your soft skin. 

she’s warm, it occurs to him. “in movies people get drunk and indirectly kiss all the time, i’ve seen it. but they don’ do it indirectly… so-so we’re drunk now–and–”

“yuuji,” you tell him. “kiss me.” 

he doesn’t need to be told twice. 

heart jackhammering in his chest, he bends down over you, memorising your pretty face and your closed eyes and your cutely red cheeks and your little pout for a second. you miss the first time, your lips landing instead on his chin, and while you giggle he brings his other hand to cradle your ear and lead you to his mouth properly. 

it’s soft. his lips are soft. you can’t help bringing your arms around him, brushing your fingers into his hair. “-ah!” his mouth gasps open when teasingly pull his locks, and you can feel his smile on your lips before he lightly nips your bottom lip. A hand strokes the side of your waist gently. it’s such a fragile dream he’s lucked into, he doesn’t want to wake up any time soon. 

he’s the bolder one: his tongue presses through your mouth, shoulders visibly heaving as your tongues meet. your hands shake. his tighten onto you. 

he licks up the length of your tongue, drinks your moans down, lets you suck on his tongue. there’s a tent in his pants that he hopes you haven’t noticed (of course you have, sitting as close as you are) but you’re both way too embarrassed to mention it. he doesn’t even dare to move his hands up towards your breasts– at best, he’s grazed the edges of your bra. that’s okay. all in good time. this is only the first time you’ve kissed.  drunk on potent youth under the star-wide sky, it feels like the first of a lifetime-full of kisses to come.

“ye do taste like hand sanitizer”, a thought from his buzzed head that he mumbles out. “and yer so soft.” 

“you have soft hair… lips too,” you reply. 

“kiss me more,” he drops his forehead to yours, “or i’ll die, i’m tellin’ ya.” 

you break apart only when the sky starts to lighten from pitch black to purple, dawn threatening on the horizon. he’s not done and neither are you. he kisses you one last time, a birdlike peck on your lips, the tip of your nose, a little pinch on your waist. there’s quite a few last kisses. every time he decides just one more and that’s it. 

the untouched bottles clink-clink in your laps as you sigh into his neck. he rubs your back and arms, keeping you warm as the temperature starts dropping. his cheek rests on the top of your head and you can still feel him blushing through your scalp. there’s so much to say– wow, that was amazing or i think i have feelings for you or i want to do this again or keep touching me– that you end up saying nothing at all. nothing but–

“ hey, yuuji…”  “mmm?”  “i think your hoodie’s all stretched out now.”  

a/n: gojo next day– aah yuuji-kun did you sleep well last night teehee

masterlist new!

[arcielee]

the sword & the salver

paring: Suguru Geto x reader summary: Prince Satoru Gojo sends his trusted general, and friend, across the kingdom to retrieve the girl who saved him when he was a boy. You loathe the idea of having your life uprooted on the whim of some faraway prince, and General Suguru Geto is determined to see through his prince's command, by whatever means. word count: 3.4k+ warnings: AFAB reader, Gojo being Gojo, some miscommunication and missed moments, and more pining for funsies! author's note: Thank you for all the comments and reblogs! They give me life. 🥰 Also, I forgot to mention that Atsumeru means to collect or gather. Enjoy! [Snippet below source.]

Chapter III ~ More Than Words

almost eighteen years ago

The cry for help was wet and shrilled, a kind of panic that rippled through you, echoing from the river that curved through Hoshi. 

It was your first moment away from the fretful eye of your father, a blessed reprieve under the trees as you poured over the book he had gifted. Its pages detailed the history of herbs and its healing properties, your newfound passion. You looked up from it, eyes squinting unsure of the noise you heard until you spotted the frantic flail of arms. 

A boy struggling to stay afloat, being pulled by the swollen river.

Your brow furrowed. No one would dare cross the river, especially after the heavy rains that washed away the recent bloodshed–though the iron smell remained, heavy and haunting. 

He will surely drown, you realized. There was a large tree that had fallen across, and you knew it was your only hope to try and save him. You closed your book, bounding to your feet, divots carving into the still-damp earth as you ran the dirt path alongside. Your mother’s shawl streamed behind you, catching around, but it did not falter your steps. 

“Help me!” You heard him scream, choking on another mouthful of water.

Ahead, you saw the tree was wedged by the rocks that lined both sides of the river; though the branches had grown brittle, you hoped the trunk remained steady. “I am trying!” You kicked off your shoes, quick but careful as you moved towards the center. You peeled the shawl from your shoulders and wrapped it around a thicker branch jutting upwards, a sharp tug to secure before you knotted the end.  

“Grab this!” You yelled as his head bobbed above, hoping he could hear you over the rushing white crash of the current that was pulling him.

Your silent prayer was answered as it left your hands, guided by the gods themselves. The fabric went taut and you braced yourself, pulling hand-over-hand as he held onto the other end for his life. 

When he hit the trunk, he clawed for hold, a fistful of your skirt that nearly dragged you in. “Stop!” You shrieked, losing your balance and falling to your knees, burning against the bark. “I am trying to help you!” You reached to grab his shirt and he used the momentum to himself up, draping over the tree. 

You felt exhausted. Your legs ached, dangling lifeless off the sides, bruised and bloody knees soothed by the water lapping up and soaking your torn skirt. The boy was shaking with deep, shuddering breaths that wracked his slender frame. 

“Thank you,” he rasped after the last of the river expelled from his lungs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thank you for saving me, but–please, don’t tell my mother.” 

At first you thought him mad, as you could not understand what he meant–how could you even know who she was–until you truly looked at him, seeing the bluest eyes with a piercing desperacy, wide and pleading. 

Prince Satoru Gojo. 

You were awestruck. “The prince cannot swim?”

He scowled, and you ignored it. You pulled him to his feet, unsteady but demanding, moving back to the river bank. He was compliant, his fight swept away in the currents, following you to first retrieve your book before you marched him back to your home.

Evening was pulling over and you saw your father was waiting for you outside, tall and lean, the severity of his face twisting with his worry. Your stomach dropped, but he soon recognized the azure infinity of the prince’s eyes–a well-known royal trait–and ushered you both inside. 

It was only after he cleaned up that the prince seemed to possess a regal air about him, despite how the clothes borrowed hung on his lithe frame. He was a few years older, very lean and with a boyish charm that now replaced his panic from earlier. He was gracious to your father and very well-spoken, just as you would expect royalty to behave. 

You watched him, your curiosity knitted between your brows. You had asked your father why he, the future heir to the Tengen Kingdom, would even require anything from your humble home. 

Your father had shushed you. “We will always help anyone in need,” he reminded you, “no matter their station in life.” 

When supper was served, a broth to warm the bones, the prince ate as if he was starved. A silence settled over the table, punctuated by the cutlery. Your skepticism could not be masked and your eyes narrowed onto him, brimming with questions you could not keep to your chest. 

“How did you fall into the river?”

The warning look from your father was set aside; your attention was solely on the prince. Prince Gojo returned your gaze with a smirk curling on his lips, welcoming the challenge, and you wondered how often he was ever told that he could not do something in his privileged life. 

“I was trying to get away,” he offered, another spoonful to fill his mouth. 

You would not be deterred. “Get away from what?”

“From things you could not understand.” 

You scoffed. “Swimming lessons, my prince?” 

Your name came out as a warning, low and lethal, and your father’s sharp eyes bored through you, silencing you. Your jaw ticked, your lips pursing as you looked back at the prince and the celestial blue of his eyes dancing, daring you. 

His tone was even. “There are obligations that are expected of me and I no longer wish to fulfill them.”

“I suppose this is for the best then, for you to wash away.” You could not stop yourself. “A cowardly prince would make for a cowardly king.”

He was red. “You dare call me a coward–” 

“Enough.”

Your father had no need to raise his voice, his gravelly tone was commanding in itself. Your eyes fell in front of you and your cheeks were warm with his chastising tone. 

The silence returned, thicker, denser than before, rolling over to ensnare the attention at everyone sitting at the table before your father spoke again. “Cowardice is only the result of seeing what is right and choosing to do nothing,” he reminded you.

The prince looked at him, the endless ocean of his eyes shining bright. Your father then continued, “I believe the gods often give us what we need and never what it is that we want. And a great king is determined by the resilience he wields with every daunting task that he will face.” 

You looked to the prince and saw a pensive change, a consideration in the cerulean cosmos of his gaze that was observing your father. It shifted his posture, his shoulders lifting with a new acceptance that steeled his jaw with a determination unearthed. 

The prince did not look at you, nor would he speak to you again that night. The next morning, he was gone, his mother arriving with the cavalry to bring him home. 

And Prince Gojo went without complaint. 

+ + + +

present day

The thought dawned on you along with the rising sun, the same as it had been the day before with its unyielding gold pouring over. Your body was sore, tear-wearied and bundled in the furs and the blanket that still held onto Suguru’s scent. You blinked, watching the smoke curl up from the fire pit and looking over to see Mimiko grazing at her leisure by the river’s edge, her ears flickering on alert. 

I have to see it for myself, you decided. It was the only way to accept what happened, to help the raw ache that still rattled inside your chest. 

The air was crisp against your face as you walked back up the knoll to see the damage that was done by the fire. Below was Suguru, kneeling at the blackened border of what had been your home. Embers were still glowing towards the center, smoke rolling over in intermittent waves above the ash and whisking away with the autumn breeze. You could see the tension lining his shoulders as he stretched to sink two fingers in the ashen edge. 

You stayed quiet, moving closer, ignoring the pulse of dull pain at the sight. Suguru looked up at you with the same careful consideration shining in his eyes, following your steps as you moved towards what was left of the fireplace, stones still stacked and most of them cracked. 

Start anew. Your eyes washed over before you pulled out a felt pouch and kneeled to collect some of the black charcoal. “A healer has her reasons,” you called over your shoulder; you could still feel his eyes, but you could not bring yourself to look at him yet. 

Suguru said nothing, only a hum, and your eyes moved onto something protruding from the soot. Your steps were mindful, the earth still warm beneath the soles of your boots, and you tentatively touched it with your toe. It cracked in half and you saw the familiar gleam of agate from the mortar your father gifted you. 

A soft, surprised sound spilled from your lips and you kneeled again, your fingers unburying and flitting to find the pestle unbroken. You moved towards the river with the pieces in your hands. 

He shadowed after your steps, keeping a respectful distance, his curious gaze watching as you removed your boots and knotted your skirt around your knees. The water nipped to the bone as you waded to your ankles, squatting to wash away the ash that covered your hands, cleaning the stone until its dull gray shine showed again; you pressed the two halve together, a perfect fit. 

It made you smile. “I think I will see about getting them gilded together whenever we arrive at Hoshi,” you said, turning to show Suguru.

He shifted with a fleeting relief that you were finally looking at him, but his expression turned pained, almost dumbfounded with what you said. “You still wish to go?” 

You could have laughed. “What other choice is there? If anything… well, first we must go so you can be relieved of this errand the prince sent you on.” The words needled through your throat and you quickly swallowed it. “I will decline the prince’s proposal and then I will request an audience with the queen to see about a possible restitution.” 

Suguru raised his eyebrows. “You say this as though you expect that she would give you such a sum.” 

“Perhaps she will pity me.” You shrugged. “But the queen has helped in the north before with every time the men from Ryomen cross over.”

It was not what he was expecting you to say. His jaw steeled, alarm flashing across his face, but his tone remained controlled. “How often does that happen now?” 

As long as you could remember.

The violent shift from the bordering kingdom in the north only began once Sukuna claimed the crown. His first act as king was to disregard the border policies that had been respected for the last century. He swore they were made as a blatant prejudice against his people, and rallied against the Tengen Kingdom, stating they were selfish with how they hoarded. 

The queen responded with an envoy, an invitation to expand her charter market. He returned only their heads, a trademarked expression, his sense of entitlement beginning its ugly and violent reign. 

Skirmishes began flaring, slowly pressing inwards until the battle of Hoshi was fought some years later. It was bloodied, brazen, but won at a cost that carved out your heart with the death of your mother, amongst many others.

In fact, both kingdoms were nearly crippled from the casualties. 

Sukuna and his men were beaten back to the borders, and he would not attempt another full blown assault for almost a decade–a war fought and lost on Tengen land, beaten by a young man with an enchanted sword that swayed the favor. 

“My father lost his life on that day.” Suguru did not lament with his words, just a fact stated as he offered you his hand. You could feel the callouses from his sword, and his warmth pulled you back onto the river bank. You did not want to let go, but he did, taking the pieces you had washed to carry them for you. “My father had served the queen faithfully and helped win that battle, but his injuries were too severe.”

Your empty hands unknotted your skirts, grabbing your boots and following after as he continued. “The queen took me in with the hopes that I would be a good influence on Satoru. But as you know, he ran away later that week.”

“I am glad he went back.”

A smile shadowed on his face before he asked. “How did your father die?”

With the gold given by the queen, your father decided to return to the north and set up his practice. Meanwhile, Sukuna grew restless before his cruel cycle repeated as before: pillaging and raiding, crippling the Tengen kingdom village by village. While most fled, your father remained to offer aid to anyone who needed it, but when his healing prowess was learned of, it was not long after that your village was attacked. 

Your father had been captured and then killed. Sukuna had his head sent back as an ill omen, but his body remained on display, placed on spikes for the birds to peck at. You had buried what you had of him by the river, shaded under the banyan trees. 

Suguru paled, his voice soft, “I am so sorry.” 

“I am too.” You felt the urge to reach for him, to feel the warmth of his hands again. “I am sorry for what you lost as well.” 

He shifted his stance, uncertainty flittering, still cradling the pieces to his chest. “But with the fire–” 

You stopped him. “We are not having a battle of plight, Suguru.” War had broken you both, you wanted to say, and that just as he found that sword to carve his own legacy, you were determined to rebuild again. 

But instead, you said, “I actually wanted to thank you.” Your boldness burned your face, something that recurred under his steady gaze. 

He stopped and turned to look at you; you sighed to soothe your nerves. “I was… rash last night. I was not thinking clearly. It just felt as if I had lost my father all over again. Seeing all of this,” –you gestured around, eyes flitting back over the soot and ash– “I realized that he remains with me through my actions, that he lives within the pages of the book… the one that I showed you.” 

Your words were spilling, almost rambling, but this time it served as a sense of comfort for you, of reassurance spoken out loud. Suguru stayed quiet, allowing you to gather your thoughts, and you felt a shiver up your spine from the ardent amethyst of his eyes. 

“So, thank you, Suguru,” and you finally looked up at him from beneath your eyelashes, “for everything, for what you did for me last night.” 

Your composure was forced as the blood roared in your head from how your heart was beating in your chest. You studied him, deciphering every shift in his features: his look of surprise, at first, but it came and went with your heart beat. His jaw tightened, a rose dusting to his cheeks and his brow furrowing above the swirling cogitation of his purple gaze. 

He said nothing, but began to walk again. You watched him for a moment before following after. 

Back at the camp, Mimiko looked up with a whinny greeting. Suguru moved to pack while you cleaned yourself and laced up your boots. It was decided the buggy would remain behind, and you climbed in the back to pull down the herbs–turmeric and echinacea and lavender–pressing them between the pages of Atsumeru before tucking it back into your satchel.

“Hoshi is about eight days away on foot.” You were startled to hear his voice after the long beat of silence that settled between. Suguru moved to take your bag and secure it to Mimiko’s backside. “And she won’t be able to carry us for long distances.” 

You moved closer to her, your palm flat as offering for her to smell. Mimiko lowered her head for you and you followed along her jaw, reaching to scratch behind her ear. “I do not mind walking.” 

“Have you ridden a horse before?”

“Not since I was a girl.” 

Suguru patted Mimiko and she preened under his attention, turning her head away from you. “We will take it slow with her, but today we should ride. I think we could use the break.”

This was true. You could feel how your body was pulling away, still able to complete the motions but your mind was fogging with a creeping exhaustion, the emotional drain of last night and this morning now weighing heavily on you. 

You were also grateful that Suguru seemed aware of this without you having to say it out loud. 

He stepped towards you and your blood began to warm again. “May I?” he asked you, and it spread through your chest. You were too dazed to understand what you were agreeing to, but he was careful to take your hand and place it on the saddle.

“I need you to hold this tight.” His low murmur guided you as he moved your other hand towards the cantle. He then kneeled in front of you, his hands knitting together to cup your foot and help you aback Mimiko, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. 

“How do you feel?” he asked once you were seated. 

You were still burning from where he had touched you, and it was prickling over your skin. “Tall,” you decided to say and Suguru grinned, moving to pull himself up and settle behind you. 

It pulled the air from your lungs–his chest solid against your backside and his warmth grounding you. He wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you, the other reached for the reins. “You all right?” His voice tickled your ear and you tried not to squirm, but just focused on breathing again.

You gave a quick nod. “Yes,” your voice was tight. 

As Mimiko trodden along, you felt a serenity with how the rest of the day peeled away. The ease of conversation you had shared with the general in the prior days was exchanged for a comfortable silence, but you did not mind this. As night fell over, earlier with the season change, you relaxed against him, growing heavy. Suguru tightened his hold on you in response. 

“We should probably stop for camp.” 

You blinked slowly as he stopped Mimiko. He climbed down first and reached to help you down. “You may be sore,” he warned. 

It was a new ache that shifted into your bones, a painsome stretch as you stumbled down, your fingers grasping onto him. His hands never left you, his palms gripping into the small of your waist to keep you upright, and his touch lingered long after your feet were steady on the ground. 

You looked up at him and Suguru let go at once. “I am sore,” you admitted with a nervous laugh, your blood burning again. 

He moved away from you, from the main road to find a clearing. As you gathered branches, Suguru dug a pit for a low fire to allow some warmth. He hesitated with the bedding before he set aside the furs for you and took the blanket for himself. 

As you watched him, you felt the bubble of words spilling before you could stop them. “Perhaps it would be better if we slept side-by-side again…” you faltered, silencing as he looked at you. 

His eyes were as dark as the night that swelled around the fire. The amber glow showed his tongue pressing to his lips, a tension returning as he considered what you said. “We would stay warmer, closer together,” his voice was low, unsure with how you would respond. 

Heat licked up your spine, though you begged to sound nonchalant with your reply. “It makes sense,” you paused, smothering the eagerness curling in your stomach. “Winter is coming and the nights will only get colder. It also might be some time before we even come across a proper place to stay the night.” 

His face relaxed and he piled the layers before getting underneath. He lifted them enough to invite you and you crawled under. Suguru pulled you back into his chest, covering you both with the furs. 

A smile touched your lips, a soft sigh as you fitted against him, as though you belonged. 

taglist: @sugurubabe @alwaysfreakingout @paprikaquinn @yeehawbrothers @witchbybirth

arcie's navi | jjk masterlist the salver & the sword masterlist

[loonybun]

Meeting Aisling (CYOA) 3

hiiiii ough this took forever :( don’t feel like it’s super good but new character! yay!!! he’s normal guys i promise (fingers crossed behind my back)

contains: captivity, faerie carewhumper, dryad guy of unknown whumperee status, references to past abduction(s), fantasy whump, fantasy setting, manhandling.

—————————————————

You decide to look for anything that could help you escape— or at the very least tell you where you are. The window is the obvious thing to look at, considering it’s the only other possible way out of the room. The gaps in the vines are big enough for you to stick your hands through, but you probably couldn’t get much further.

From the holes, you can see a village beneath the structure you’re in. People. There are people here. If you made enough noise, maybe someone would come and save you.

The trees around the village are thicker than most of the houses. Massive structures that you can’t even see the tops of. Branches as big as trains.

Even if the window wasn’t obscured, it’d be too high to jump from. You’re not going to have much luck with it.

You walk over to the vanity in one of the other parts of the room. The mirror greets you with your disgruntled state, twigs and flowers sticking out of tangled hair.

The table is covered with all kinds of trinkets. Bells, flower circlets, crystals, little animals made of glass. It may have been a charming collection under different circumstances, but unfortunately you don’t have time to focus on something so small.

Besides the vanity, there’s also a desk filled to the brim with papers and books. Bottles of ink line the shelf above it. Great, the weirdo that kidnapped you is a writer. You can definitely use that to escape. Maybe threaten to set some of his manuscripts on fire or give him a bad review. That’ll show him.

You groan and go back over to the bed, flopping onto the soft mattress. Despite your amazing investigative skills, you’d somehow neglected the plate of fresh berries on the bedside table. Just looking at them makes your mouth water.

If you’re going to escape, you have to have some fuel in you, right?

As you reach out to grab one of the fruits, something snaps around your wrist and yanks it away.

“Don’t eat that.”

The roots around your arm squeeze it tightly. After you recover from the shock, you turn to face the source of the voice.

The tree.

The fucking tree.

Or what was a tree five seconds ago, at least. Of course. Why not? Magical bug men, talking trees, sure. Just throw in a dancing bear at this point.

The tree— or man, you’re not sure what to describe it as— is giving you a hard glare. It’s entirely made of wood, save for its flowering hair and a few rogue blossoms. If looks could kill, you have a feeling that they wouldn’t be able to put your corpse back together.

It slowly retracts its branches from your wrist, forming them back into a more hand-like structure.

He inspects you for a moment.

“…His standards get lower by the hour. Goodness, where did he even find you? A dog park?” The— whatever he is, scoffs.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. He wasn’t wrong, you did look like a mess, but that doesn’t mean his words don’t hurt.

He plucks a leaf from your hair and grins. “I mean, this is just sad. And I thought the last one was bad… No, you take the cake. Anyways, how long were you planning on staying here? Come up with any daring escape plans yet? Please, do tell.”

Even if you had, telling this thing seemed like a bad idea. He definitely doesn’t have your best interests in mind.

“What?” The man(?) frowns. “Too harsh? Alright, fine. I should have just started with names. Have you given yours to him yet?”

You shake your head.

“Good. Don’t. Anyways, since you won’t have much of a use for it anyways, mine is Oleander. You don’t have to give me yours if you don’t want to. I’d like to keep this interaction as quick as possible. Feel free to ask questions though. Better to hear it than learn from experience in this case.”

Well, you sure had a lot of questions. Why are you here? Where is here? What is he? What snatched you away to begin with?

“Ohh, you’re one of the panicky ones. Alright, well, for starters, you’re in a tree. Or a palace. Whatever you’d like to imagine it as, honestly. I don’t know the exact reason you were brought here, but I have a few guesses. Let’s just say none of them are situations anyone would want to be in.” He keeps up with your rapid-fire, only taking a moment in between questions.

“I’m what’s called a dryad. Essentially, a plant with a consciousness and a body created by magic— You do know what magic is, right? Yes? Alright, that saves some explaining. I don’t really want to get into detail about what a faerie is, but that’s what the other man was. Anyways, I’ll be brief, I don’t want you here, and I’m assuming you don’t want to be here either, right?”

You nod.

“Good. That saves me some trouble. I’m going to help you escape. Now, he’s probably going to be back within the next ten or so minutes. You’re not going to mention me to him, understand? He doesn’t know I exist, and I want to keep it that way.”

After you give another nod, he sighs in relief. You watch as Oleander moves back towards the center of the room, his wood skin slowly morphing, bending, and reshaping until you’re left “alone” again.

Your chest feels lighter. There’s still a chance to escape. While you’re still not entirely sure you can trust your new companion, he’s still a failsafe if you can’t find another way out of here.

Just a few minutes later, the door swings open and a familiar person enters the room.

Person? Was that right?

Ai smiles at you, slit pupils you hadn’t noticed previously practically glistening when he spots you at the far end of the room.

“Oh— Hi! You’re awake now? Is everything alright? You look a little shaken up…” He flutters over to you.

Flutters. Right. Wings.

You can’t help but stare. Whatever you’d met in the woods hardly resembled him now. The fae in front of you dawned a long, fairly intricate cloak. His skin— or fur, it’s honestly hard to tell, is a soft pink. He’s not unpleasant looking in any sense, just… Unusual. If it weren’t for the sharp teeth, he’d almost look approachable.

He’s acting like he’s actually concerned about you. Like he didn’t just take you to an entire new dimension. Like there’s any other reason that you’d be upset. You just continue to stare, unable to create a response with the knot in your throat.

Ai sets a hand on your shoulder reassuringly. “Upset? That’s okay. I know it’s a lot for you to take in. I hope you don’t feel like I was trying to deceive you before in the woods… I just thought you seemed interesting! I wanted to get to know you a bit before… Well, before all of this. I didn’t mean to rush you.” You’re hardly paying attention to what he’s saying. He kidnapped you. Of course you’re upset!

“You probably feel scared, don’t you? I… I want to say that I won’t hurt you. Those aren’t my intentions with you. Why don’t we get to know each other a bit better? I want to understand you, and I want you to be able to understand me, too. I know this isn’t the best first impression… But I really didn’t want to have to mess with your memories again. I want to do it right this time.”

This is insane. You can’t read him. What does he want from you? He said he doesn’t want to hurt you, but none of his actions so far have even slightly supported that. He abducted you. He chased you through the fucking woods. What other reason could he possibly have for keeping you here?

“Go ahead, ask me anything.”

taglist: @whumpy-wyrms @inkwell-and-dagger @lordcatwich @kawaii-cakes @enigmawriteswhump (let me know if you want to be added!!!)

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight Chapter 11

a/n: Things are picking uppppp

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: Angst! canon typical mentions of violence. some fluff

Other Chapters

You spent an hour showing Azriel all the photos on your phone and telling him the stories behind the really silly ones. He’s fascinated by all of it: your life, your world. It’s all so foreign yet so similar to his own. You turn it off and turn to him “I feel like I talked too much” you smile sheepishly. “Not at all, I love listening to your stories” he looks around and then says “want to do something fun?” 

“I don’t think this was a good idea” you are stiff as a board as Azriel leads you around the frozen Sidra. “Do they not have ice skating in your world?” One foot slides in front of the other and you almost fall flat but he keeps you upright. “Yes we do but where I lived it didn’t snow so I never did it” you shiver. “You need a thicker coat, this one won’t do” he holds your hands and skates in front of you. He spreads his wings to block out most of the wind. “Bend your knees a little” you do as he says and feel a bit more stable. “Az, I don’t mean to be a downer but can we do something else?” He chuckles, “sure” and changes course. 

You’re walking up the path to the River House and linger a few steps behind Azriel, spotting a fire pit. “Let's make smores!” he doesn’t know what they are, you realize as he stares at you with no recognition in his eyes. “Come on” and drag him to the kitchen. 

“Ok so you put the marshmallow on the stick and roast it until it gets melty, then you make a little sandwich with the chocolate and the crackers” you explain as you hand him a marshmallow on a stick. You involuntarily giggle as you watch him methodically twirl the stick so the marshmallow is evenly roasted. “What?” He asks “nothing”, you look back to your own marshmallow and curse when you realize it caught on fire, now it’s him who laughs. 

“Try it” he looks comically large with the tiny smore in his hands “I’m sure I’ll like it”. You insist “try it!” He smiles and bites down and his eyes go wide “it’s good isn’t it?” He nods “it’s really good” you do a little dance, excited that he enjoyed it. You moan when you bite down on yours “I missed these”. 

Your head is on his shoulder and his wing is wrapped around you as you watch the sun come up. “Are you going to go back with Lucien?” You suppose the bubble had to burst at some point. Reality sets in as the first rays of sunlight hit your face. “Yes” he doesn’t say anything for a while “I’ve missed you at the house” you focus on the sunrise “I’ve missed you too, but I’m doing better now” his wings shift. “What was so bad about being here?” The ice on the Sidra is sparkling now. You lift your head from his shoulder “nothing was bad. But I felt isolated and the days in the library were driving me crazy. My life revolved around the portal and getting back. I loved spending time with you and the others… but I felt like I was caged in. And in the Human Lands I’ve been able to move forward. I really like what I’m doing at the Apothecary and can see a future for myself” he nods. “You don’t see a future here? With us?” You shrug “not really. I really appreciate your friendship and all of your help but my life will be much shorter than yours… and I can’t imagine aging and withering away while all of you remain intact” his face hardens. “So what? You’ll build a life in the human lands and forget that we exist?” You knew he wouldn’t be happy with your answer but couldn’t bring yourself to lie. “I’ll never forget you, but I would like to have a regular life, similar to the one I used to have”. You can hear the house start to wake up behind you “if I asked you to stay with me, would that change anything?” You stay quiet for a moment. There was something between you, more than friendship. “No. You wouldn’t have a full life with me”. He grabs your hand “that’s not true”. A breeze ruffled the barren branches  on the trees around you “yes it is, I have sixty years left if I’m lucky. We wouldn’t be able to have kids and soon enough I’d just be a burden” he turns his head to face you and you remain looking ahead. “You’d never be a burden. Not to me” taking a steadying breath you look at him “let’s just enjoy the rest of the holiday, yeah?” He thinks about it, clearly not happy about the outcome of the conversation “alright”. 

“I think this is a bit excessive” you turn away from the mirror and look at Azriel. He is doing a terrible job of concealing his amusement “you need a coat”. You scowl “yes, a coat. This is more of a collection of pillows sewn together. I can barely move my arms in this, how am I supposed to ride a horse?” He can’t contain his laughter as you strain to move your arms. The coat was made for someone much taller and bigger than you but Azriel insisted you try it on. “Oh, I’m glad you are enjoying this. Help me take it off” he lifts the heavy coat from your shoulders and you wipe sweat from your brow. “That thing is like a sauna” he hands you one that looks more wearable “try this one”. It was much better than the last, lilac colored and lined with high quality wool, the outside was a flexible waterproof material “I like it”. He was smiling when you turn to him “that color suits you”. 

“We’re leaving in the morning,” Lucien tells you. You knew your visit would be brief, God knows what Jurian and Vassa have gotten up to while the two of you were away, but it still stung. “Alright” Lucien walks over to where you’re sitting “you can stay if you want”. You shake your head “no, I told Muriel I wouldn’t be gone long”. He nods. “We should probably go have dinner with everyone” you stand and link your arm with his.

When you returned to the Manor you quickly rode down to the Apothecary. Not willing to sit idly as your thoughts spiraled. Muriel was happy to see you. “Hi, darlin’. How was your Solstice?” You take off your coat and go to hug her “it was really nice. How about yours?” She lets out a long breath “It was very hectic, let me tell you. The whole family got together at my little house and my niece’s baby would not stop cryin’. Poor thing had a fever the whole day”. You frown, I’m sorry to hear that '' she shrugs “he’s teethin’, not much can be done about it. That’s a pretty coat” you grin “it was a present”. Her eyebrows raise “is he handsome?” You blush “yes, very”.  Who is he? Is he from the village?” You shake your head, “he lives further North”. Muriel didn’t know about your situation. She knew you lived in one of the big houses in the countryside but she did not know that your roommates were a Mortal Queen, a resurrected male and an heir of Autumn. “That’s a shame, I would’ve loved to tease you” at which you laugh and begin to work “I’m sure you’ll find other things to tease me about”. 

The weather was brutal after the Solstice. Everyday got colder and colder. You had started to leave the Apothecary after lunch because the road to the Manor would become treacherous with afternoon snow and ice, some days you couldn’t go at all.  

You left the shop when it had started to snow, wanting to avoid getting trapped in the small space. You weren’t expecting to be caught in a blizzard.  But twenty minutes after leaving you could not see more than a foot in front of you. Panic. Fear. Cold. You did not know what to do in this situation. The only thing that did not seem completely suicidal was to stay in place and hope the blizzard passes quickly, then you could find your way home. 

You never found out how long the storm lasted. 

Never made your way home. 

A cold blunt object struck the back of your head and the world went black before you hit the ground. 

It felt like an elephant was stomping on you. You take a few breaths before attempting to open your eyes. Each movement sent a wave of pain up your spine and to your head. When you peak through half closed eyes. It was dark. Eyes open fully now and you can barely see your hand in front of your face. You’re lying on your side on cold stone floors. What the fuck. When you lift yourself on all fours the world spins and you empty your stomach immediately. Concussion. The last thing you remember is the sound of metal against something hard. My head. Your heart starts to beat faster. Reality setting in. Crawling around the room, you find that three walls are pure stone and one is a metal grate. You feel for any other injuries and sigh in relief as you realize you are fully clothed and unscathed. Your stomach drops as you hear wood creaking. Light flooding the chamber you were trapped in. Slow steps approach. Low voices murmuring. There’s more than one.  You crawl to one corner and make yourself as small as you can. If you can’t run then you might as well try to hide. 

“You say a new one was captured yesterday?” an authoritative voice echoes. “Yes, sir. Her capture was executed during the blizzard. The men took extra care to leave no traces” no response. “Which cell is she in?” The steps stopped “Number ten, sir”. “Very well, go prepare the horses, I’ll be done here shortly” steps fade away as whoever was there leaves. Heavy steps near the cell. You try to breathe normally but your heart is beating too fast. Even crouched on the floor you’re lightheaded. “What do we have here?” you don’t dare look up, keeping your head tightly between your arms. The voice is laced with the promise of violence. They strike against the grates of your cell. The sound makes you jump, your head lifting as your arms come out in front of you, trying to block the impact. Your eyes are shut and a few seconds pass before you open them. You clam up, recognizing the male on the other side. 

“Y/n?” the male asks, genuinely confused. 

Lucien had winnowed to the Manor after visiting Tamlin. Each visit was worse than the last, this time Tamlin only grunted at him, still in his beast form. It was light out when it started to snow. “Where’s y/n?” He asked Jurian “at the Apothecary”, Lucien frowned. The weather was bound to get worse and the Manor was about an hour on horseback from the shop. “I’m going to get her before she gets stuck in the blizzard” Jurian nodded, and said teasingly “I should go with you, humans are still uneasy around your kind”. It was the truth, there were humans that still feared the fae. Lucien couldn’t blame them. Generations of fearing his kind and the recent war gave them more than enough reason to harbor animosity towards them. 

He waited down the street from the shop while Jurian went to tell y/n they had to leave. “Muriel said she already left” his shoulders sagged in relief, “she must be home by now” and winnowed back to the Manor. 

Lucien suspected that something was off when the horse, his horse, was missing from the stables. He decided to wait half an hour before going out to look for her himself. 

He knew that something went wrong when the horse showed up in the middle of the blizzard. Without a rider. 

Vassa confirmed that something had happened when the sun set. “It was a convoy, they knocked her out before she knew what was happening. I followed them until they reached one of the tunnels”. 

“Why am I here?” Your voice is uneven. Eris’s eyes are wide “my father ordered that you be captured”. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know, but you won’t be here for long” his voice was gentle now, you had never heard him speak like that. Most of your interactions were sarcastic retorts. The door opens again “Sir?” 

“I’ll be up in a minute” he shouts to the same voice from before then looks at you again “are you hurt?” You nod “I think I have a concussion”. His nostrils flare “anything else?” You shake your head. He looks towards the door again then back at you “come closer”. You manage to get up and walk towards him, leaning on the grates as the world spins. He whispers “I’ll be back later. Do not speak to anyone. Don’t react if someone comes in. You being here must be a mistake, so just lay low and I’ll get you out soon” you nod “where am I?” He sighs “this is the Autumn Court dungeons. I’ll be back soon. Remember what I told you”. He steps away from the cell and walks towards the exit.  You have no choice but to huddle in the corner and wait. 

Eris was utterly terrified when he saw that she was his father’s new project. She is just a human girl, he thought as he walked up the stairs and out of the dungeons. What business could Beron want with her? She won’t survive a week down there, let alone torture at the experienced hands of his father. He did not want to think of what would have happened to her if it had been one of his brothers that had made the round today. Eris cut his routine patrol of the Forest House grounds short and made his way to his fathers study. 

Three firm knocks on the mahogany door “enter”, his father commanded. Closing the door behind him he waited to be addressed. “Sit” Beron was reading over some papers, only after he was finished did he look up. “What is it?” Eris remained still, his posture perfectly straight, his face poised in an unreadable mask. “I saw the human girl in the dungeons” Beron leaned back in his chair, relaxed “and?” Eris continues “she seems irrelevant, why waste the time and resources to retrieve her?” The low chuckle that escapes Beron’s lips makes him nauseous. “She seems to be the Night Court’s newest pet. I thought I’d have some fun”. “How is she involved with the Night Court?” He shrugs “I’ll find out when she and I get the chance to talk” it takes more effort that Eris would like to keep his rage unnoticed. He stands and before he is able to leave his father’s voice stops him “when you see Lucien again tell him his choice of company is utterly disappointing” he nods and takes his leave, winnowing to his private wing on the Forest House.

Once he is alone he runs his hands through his hair and lets out the string of curses he had been holding in. The thought of his father being alone with her for even a second makes him sick. He knows she lives with Lucien and he knows she has ties with Night. How long has he been watching her?  He needs to get her food and water, Beron would let his political hostages starve for less. Being associated with Rhysand would be enough to have her flogged.

It's after midnight and the house is dead quiet. Eris winnows from the kitchen to the dungeons without making a sound. He creates a fireball that hovers in front of him for light. The dungeons are pitch black without it. When he makes it to her cell he is relieved to see that she remains untouched. He needs to get her out soon. “Hi” her soft voice brings him out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry I took so long, but here” he hands her a bowl of warm stew through the grates. “Thank you” she reaches for it and immediately digs in “here is some water as well” he says and places the bottle on the floor. “My father knows about your ties to the Night Court” she stops eating and looks straight at him “he has plans to… question you” she gulps. “I need you to tell me everything. He won't tell me why he’s keeping you here and I need to know what he knows so I can get you out” he can see her thinking about what to say. Weighing her options. 

She takes a breath and tells him everything. 

The next day, Eris winnows to the Manor of Exiles. He knocks on the door and is disappointed to see Lucien on the other side. He knows where y/n is but a part of him hoped it had been a hallucination, some sort of roundabout fever dream. “What is it?” His brother has clearly not slept. “Y/n is in the Autumn Court dungeons awaiting questioning” Lucien pales and Eris goes on “Beron has been spying on her for a while, he is aware of her, and your, ties to the Night Court and is going to use her as leverage”. He follows his brother to the sitting room and is forced to repeat what he said to Jurian. “How do we get her out?” Eris explains the situation: Beron’s special interest in you, the guard outside of the dungeons and the grates that only open if his father wills it. “You have to tell Rhysand” that wasn’t a conversation Lucien wanted to have. He didn’t want to see the Shadosinger’s face when he heard the news, he didn’t want to face his wrath. There was no way around it though, so as soon as Eris left he winnowed to Velaris. 

Knocking on the River House door felt like a waste of time, so he just walked in and b-lined for the adjoined studies. He cursed internally when he saw two sets of wings and a shadowy mist. “Rhysand, something happened” the High Lord scrapes his talons along his mental shields and Lucien lets him in. “Gods above” he mutters and looks to the Shadowsinger “what?”. Rhysand sighs “Az, sit down for this” Azriel does not. “Tell me” Lucien speaks first. “Y/n was kidnapped by Beron”. 

Azriel must’ve blacked out “what?” he repeats. Rhysand shows him what Lucien had shown him. The horse without a rider, Vassa telling what he saw from the skies and Eris informing him that their friend’s disappearance was not an accident. He’s going to be sick. He’s going to kill Beron. Siphons flare, cobalt lights the room. “Eris said that they haven’t touched her, if we act soon we can get her out unharmed” Lucien’s voice brings him back. He has to think clearly and they need to come up with a plan, fast. 

Eris winnowed back to the dungeons. It was mid afternoon. He thought that she would probably be hungry by now so he stuffed an apple and a bread roll in his pockets. It was all he could sneak out of the kitchens without raising suspicions. Everyone in this house had sworn loyalty to the High Lord of Autumn and helping feed one of his prisoners was punishable in many ways. He lit a fireball and walked over to the tenth cell, hopefully hearing that the Night Court would be helping in getting her out would keep her spirits high. He hated the fear that had settled on her face. He was used to seeing her in the sunlight, her eyes glittering and cheeky smile always fighting to be seen. His heart sank when he saw her on the floor, in a fetal position, breath shallow.  “Y/n?” he lets out a breath when she stirs. “Y/n, wake up” his stomach drops when her head lifts to look at him. A bright purple bruise covered her left eye. It was swollen but not shut. She had a gash from where his father’s ring had made contact, just below her brow. “Shit, what did he do to you?” She sits up and winces when she puts pressure on her arm to crawl closer to him “I stayed quiet like you said, but I think that made him angrier” he scanned her face and it looked like it had only been one punch, which was tame for his father. He looked over at the rest of her and scowled when he noticed dried blood on her dress “where did the blood come from?” The gash on her eye was not deep enough to have trailed that much blood. She took her right arm out of her jacket and showed him a thin but deep slice down her forearm. That was new, his father was never careful about the cuts he made. His only goal was to inflict pain. This was a precise incision, it showed intention. “I passed out from the punch and when I woke up my arm hurt like hell”. This was worse than he thought. “Here” he hands her the apple and bread “I’ll bring you more later tonight when the house is empty” she takes the food and immediately bites into the bread. A small moan escapes her. “I spoke with Lucien, he is informing the Night Court right now, you’ll be out soon”. She doesn’t respond, he wouldn't believe himself either. “Hey” he reaches into the cell and lifts her chin “I promise” he feels a tingle down his back and he knows that she’ll have a matching mark on hers “what was that?” She looks worried “It’s just a bargain mark, when I get you out, which I will, the mark will disappear”. He hadn’t noticed how pale she was, how much blood had she lost? “Eris?” he hummed “promise me that I won’t die here” he nods “I promise”. 

“You called for me,” Beron motioned for Eris to sit. “Keir has invited us to his Court for a ball. I accepted his invitation on behalf of all of us. You’ll be escorting the girl” odd. “Why would we bring her?” he asks with an arrogant flare. “In order to the destabilize Night Court we must weaken them and I have a feeling that when the Shadowsinger sees her by your side he will take himself out of my way”.  Eris nodded “when is the ball?” His father picked up the invitation and read “Two weeks from today”.

Shit. 

“Very well”.

taglist: @luvmoo

[i-am-minty-fresh]

(Here you are @certain-arcade-dinosaur)

Luffy blinks away the heavy weight of sleep to the harsh feeling of the sun baring down directly into his eyes. As his eyes finally open, he’s met only with the sun right above his head. Normally, he can’t look at the sun for too long or Chopper will tell him it can give his eyes ‘perforated damage’…but Chopper’s not here so he can stare all he wants!-

Choppers not here! He looks around him to find only sand, with waves pushing and pulling onto the nearby coast. He taps him head in contemplation before quickly noticing the familiar weight of his hat is neither on his head nor between his shoulder blades. He attempts to twist all the way around but finds something rigid on the back of his neck limits such contortions. Defeated by the rock in his neck he rushes onto his feet to turn around and look the boring way.

He’s met with an almost deserted island. Some spots of grass, a couple of shrubs, and one coconut tree. The island is small enough that he can walk the whole circumference of it without much thought. Turning away from the island and towards the sea he looks squints to look as far as he can. The sea sways and dips at will, but the reflection of the sun remains ever present amongst the waves.

His crew isn’t here. Something tells him that. He doesn’t quite know where here is but he knows that even if he could find his way off the island, only sea awaits him. Never a lions figurehead, never a blue nose, never orange or green hair, never warm food or lullabies.

Lonely?

Something whispers into Luffy’s mind. He turns to the island and squints, still seeing nothing of substance.

Our sea is vast but our path is never clear

He looks up to find his strawhat perched on a high-up branch on the lone tree in the middle of the island. He scrambles towards the base and starts his climbing, smiling widely at the thought of his treasure returning to him.

Why set out to sea at all if nothing is certain?

A few splinters and scraps cover his body before he finally gets to the branch holding his hat. Perching himself safely onto the thicker side, he gleefully places his hat onto his head, pulling the brim close, as a smile cuts through his face.

So much suffering, caused by my ignorance, how could anyone dream of something as selfish as sailing?

Finally, Luffy looks to the highest branch, only just out of reach to him, paying some acknowledgment to the noise.

I have no right for adventure when people need liberation….but how could I ever bring freedom at a time like this?

Hanging from the end of the branch is something familiar. A rotund purple fruit covered in swirls.

What adventures could even await me if we know only this land exists?

Staring back into the horizon, Luffy can make out the sun slowly setting.

I must rest.

The sun dies in a brilliant flash only for the water to get coated in the ink of the night sky. Luffy furrows his brow,

“Don’t give up, old man, they’re just not here yet!”

We alone carry the burden of liberation, we alone must sail-

“But that’s so boring! Once my nakama come, you’ll get what I mean! Nami and Jinbei are much better at sailing than we are, anyway! Plus if anyway’s sick, Chopper can help. If anyone’s hungry, Sanji can help. If anyone dead, Robin can help. My nakama are all so helpful! Besides…” Luffy stands on the small branch, steady even as the it lurches under his weight, “we’re pirates! We’re supposed to be selfish!” He smiles….

Islands start to erupt from the sea. Birds come into view along the horizon alongside thousands of ships. One ship, faster than the rest, expertly cuts through the island like icebergs coming from the sea bed. As it gets closer, the sound of laughter is better heard. Despite its multiple undocked anchors it arrives at the shore in record time. An out of tune guitar, a handmade flute, a well-loved violin and a bunch of untrained voices sing along to an old pirate shanty.

White clouds fill like fog around the coconut tree.

“What do you say, old man?” The pirate king turns to face a god older than time, “you wanna join my pirate crew?”

Was it always this easy?

“Only if you let it be!”

The dawn finally comes.

[vilevenom]

Do you think you could do (pre first movie setting) grey branch x poppy bonding with a jealous creek third wheeling and forced proximity ?

Thank you in advance if you decide to!!!!!

Hello, Anon! Thank you for your prompt! Despite my love for Groppy, this one ended up pretty short, sorry! I like to think most of their bonding was in short little bursts, since Branch was still pretty pissy at her by the beginning of the first movie. Enjoy!

Branch sighed for what felt like the twelfth time as he trudged along his usual stick collecting path, ear twitching in irritation as he could hear Poppy a few feet back being "quiet" as she excitedly prattled on at Creek about how "fun it was" to accompany Branch.

"Once again, Poppy," Branch half snarled as he turned on his heel to face the two behind him, a stout scowl on his face, "I did not invite you to come with me. Second, I asked you to be quiet. You are not being quiet."

"I'm whispering! That's quiet," Poppy protested, her hands on her hips as she returned Branch's scowl with a frown of her own.

"Not quiet /enough/. You're going to attract all sorts of critters to us with your yammering," Branch groused, gesturing towards the forest at large.

"Poppy," Creek cut in, stepping between Branch and the princess, his back to the grey troll, "Perhaps we ought to go back to the village, hmm? We're obviously not wanted here." He shot Branch a look over his shoulder, before turning back to Poppy. "I mean, Branch is obviously very busy with his, ah, stick collecting. We're probably hindering him more than anything."

Poppy scoffed, waving her hand at Creek as she stepped around him. "Nonsense! We're providing company and moral support," she stated brightly, trotting over to Branch with a smile. "Would it be more helpful if we also looked for sticks?"

Branch eyed her for a moment, before shrugging and turning back around to continue tromping down the trail. "Fine. But make sure they're dry, and straight! A wet stick isn't going to do me any good, and a warped shape will be hard to store."

"Aye aye, captain," Poppy chirped with a mock salute, skipping along after Branch down the trail. Creek looked less than enthused as he reluctantly followed along behind the two.

~

"What about this one?"

An hour or so had passed, and Branch had gathered a dozen sticks so far, while rejecting nearly every one that Poppy offered up. He glanced at the one she was currently holding out, scrunching his nose at it.

"No. It's too thin and brittle. It'll break too easily," Branch stated, shaking his head and turning away to root through some under brush,

"Well, what kind of stick would even make Branch happy?" Creek scoffed, having only picked up one single twig as they had trudged through the woods, which he was now using to draw in the dirt as he sat on a rock.

Poppy perked up and bounced over to Branch, bouncing on her toes. "Actually, yeah! You haven't actually said what you're specifically looking for, besides straight and dry. More details would be helpful," she hummed, grinning as Branch stood back up, leaves sticking haphazardly out of his hair.

"What?"

"More details!" Poppy reiterated, waving her rejected stick in Branch's face.

Branch screwed up his face and took a step back so he wouldn't get hit, glancing briefly between a scowling Creek and an overenthusiastic Poppy. "Uh, well," he started, watching Creek throw his arms in the air and fall backwards off the rock behind Poppy, "I'm looking for weaponizable sticks. Slightly thicker, easy to carve into a point."

"Weapons?! Branch, no," Poppy shook her head, her lower lip jutting out in a pout.

"Branch, yes," Branch hissed back, scowl instantly back on his face. "As much as you want to stick your head in the sand about it, the village needs protection. Even if I'm the only one who sees it, I'm going to at least make sure we have defense against critters."

Poppy's shoulders dropped sadly as Branch glared her down, only to jump as a hand landed on her shoulder. She turned a panicked look over her shoulder, sighing in relief as she realized it was only Creek. She had momentarily forgotten he's tagged along. He smiled warmly at her, giving her shoulder a little squeeze.

"Come on, Princess," Creek hummed, smiling benignly at Branch, "Let's leave him to it, yeah? We can head back to mine and bake some cupcakes? Bring some positivity into the world, instead of violence." His smile grew thin as Branch visibly bristled in front of them.

Poppy chewed on her lip for a moment, before shaking her head, and subsequently Creeks hand from her shoulder. "No, no. Branch is right. There are some nasty critters out here. Maybe a few defenses wouldn't be so bad."

Branch blinked in surprise at Poppy's acquiescence, his entire posture immediately relaxing. "Wait…really?"

Poppy perked up at Branch, a bright smile growing on her face. "Yeah! I mean, I would prefer more of a deterrent kind of defense or trap…could we do that, instead of something that hurts them?"

"I mean, that only works so well," Branch waved a hand in the air, noticing as Poppy's smile slowly dimmed, a nearly unnoticeable dark flush creeping across his cheeks as he waved a hand through the air, "Not that it couldn't work at all! Maybe we could do a mix of both. Deterrents at the forefront, and something more, uh, harsh for the more determined critters?"

Poppy clapped her hands together, bouncing on her toes as she nodded enthusiastically, thrilled to have Branch actually engaging with her. "Okay, yeah! Maybe we could do some nets? What do you need to make nets?"

The tiniest of smiles curled Branch's mouth as he nodded along while Poppy began to ramble about her ideas in regards to non-lethal traps. Meanwhile, Creek was left with a fierce scowl on his face, arms crossed over his chest as the other two began walking away down the trail, completely forgetting about his existence as they went. He took a moment to gather his thoughts and take a couple of calming breaths before storming after the two. He was not about to leave the village recluse alone with the princess.

[albinocapybara]

Finally after being stumped on a name for so long, the LeshyCat children concept is here, first, of course, some info on the parents :)

(Btw im not a native english speaker)

If you have any questions about them or my other headcanons feel free to ask too!

How they met: Due to his injuries making it extremely difficult for him to adjust to his new life in the cult (let alone how he would now have to learn how to live with a mortal body again) on his own, the Yellow Cat (who i will be referring to as "Amare" from now on) was assigned as his caretaker to help him deal with the necessities that came with being a mortal again (sleep, water, physical activities and so on) on top of the problems that came with his injury. While Leshy at first felt insulted by this treatment (the whole "i was a god i can do this without the help of some mortal yada yada" thing), he soon realized it was for the better (while also realizing his feelings for Amare :3).

Leshy: Freed from Purgatory in the cult around 100-ish years after his death and 15 years after Narinder was overthrown by The Lamb. All his high priests and his witness (Amdusias, Valefar, Barbatos and Agares) had passed away before his arrival, making the former and current gods of death the only "familiar" figures in the cult (they both changed so much after their last encounters), although he still avoided both of them most of the time (Narinder because of his conflicting thoughts about the older brother, and The Lamb somewhat out of anger at them but mostly fear due to how traumatic Purgatory was for him), but dont worry they eventually made amends along with the rest of the bishops :). Also became friends with bat follower but she isnt relevant for this post

Amare (the Yellow Cat): Rescued from being sacrificed to the dead bishop of chaos in Darkwood after followers of the Old Faith killed everyone else from his village, works as a farmer in the cult. He was the only follower (aside from the first five followers of the cult, who are kept alive and act as advisors and friends for The Lamb) that knew of Leshy's past as an bishop, and though he still held resentment for the former god, The Lamb's seeming disposition to forgive him made the cat consider doing the same for him, volunteering to be his caretaker. Once their relationship was made official, he was given a golden skull necklace to ensure the two could stay by each other's side for eternity.

Now for the children hehe

They are twins (as ive mentioned in my other posts), a daughter named Camellia (Amare chose the name) and a son named (drumroll please im so proud of this name) Havoc! (Name chosen by Leshy of course).

They both have green moss-like fur from Leshy, and the head shape of a cat from Amare, but other than that their bodies are very distinct due to inheriting different parts from their parents

Havoc: His limbs and tail, as well as his longer whiskers, are from Amare, giving him a silhouette very similar to a cat, aside from the antler-like branches he got from Leshy, he also has two sets of eyes like Leshy used to have once, ironically though, he has rather poor eyesight, needing glasses to see things that are a bit too far. Despite his name he is actually pretty calm and enjoys the peacefulness of the cult, though this doesnt mean he is opposed to some occasional mischief, specially with his sister. Wants to help with teaching when he becomes of age (also im thinking about the idea of having him figure himself out as transfem but thats for another time)

Camellia: her limbs and tail, being from Leshy, are quite a bit longer and thicker than her brother's, giving her a broader and taller silhouette, as well as making her quite a bit stronger physically, she also has only one set of eyes and shorter whiskers than her brother, as well as no branch antlers. Is a very active person, playing with other kids and sometimes helping adults with tasks that wouldnt risk injuring her (most of the time they dont let her though). Also loves doing pranks and other forms of tomfoolery around the cult along with her brother. She is also very protective of him, getting into multiple fights with kids (and a drunk adult one time) who pick on him (aka bullies). Wants to follow her parent's job of farming when she comes of age.

[whateversawesome]

I really hope this doesn't come off as hate, I just wanted someone else's input - I feel like the eden kids have become more of the main characters than the forgers have. I know we just finished an important arc with them but it feels as though every other chapter is centered around them. We haven't had a chapter with the forgers together since Anya got rescued and that wasn't even a whole chapter. it feels as though the manga's shifted from its core (a spy dad, assassin mom, esper child and a dog that can see the future). I guess this could just be because of the update schedule though making everything feel slow paced and some plotlines random at times. Again, I hope this doesn't come off as hate. I still love and enjoy the story, and was curious to hear the opinion of another.

Hi! Thank you for reaching out. Your question doesn't come as hate at all and it'll be my pleasure to answer it :)

Your feelings and frustration are totally valid. A lot of us got into Spy x family because of the Forgers (and some of us Twiyor specifically) and miss seeing them. So, let me tell you how I see things both as a writer and as a reader.

As a writer: I'm not worried about where sxf is going because I've written plenty of stories and I can see the seams (meaning the construction of the story). However, I know not everyone is a writer, so this illustration may be useful for everyone:

The beginning of sxf had a great exposition of the characters and the story. This is the part where the readers fall in love and get attached to the characters.

I know it's been going for 79 chapters, but in my opinion, we're barely leaving #2 (conflict) and entering #3 (rising action). Endo set the conflict and not quite started the action yet. So we're just entering the middle of the story.

In my experience (both as a reader and writer), when the middle of the story begins is not the most exciting part and, depending on the story and author, the middle can feel long.

In Spanish, the middle a story is called "nudo", which means "knot". This is where the story gets tangled and very complicated. In fact, the more complicated, the better, because it means that it'll be hard to resolve and the stakes will be high during the climax.

The purpose of the middle of a story is to point towards the climax. This is where the author has to build the tension to get there, where the conflict gets thicker and thicker.

Now, has Endo been doing this?

YES.

Evidence of this are the whole bus kidnapping arc: where he told us how the SSS and government behave towards its citizens (even when they're children). THIS will be key in the story. And the latest 78 doggie competition chapter: where Handler and Twilight literally talk about the main plot of the story.

This reminds us the main plot is still about Donovan Desmond and Project Apple. This doesn't seem random to me. And the fact that we've gotten so much Eden makes me think that Eden is key in the main plot too.

As a writer, his job is to point out to the main plot and head to the climax. If he's been doing that with Eden chapters, that means that's where we're going.

The way I see it, Twilight, Yor, and Anya (Spy, Assassin and Esper) are the main characters, but not the only characters. Because of its cuteness and wholesomeness, it's easy to think of Spy x Family is a simple story about a Spy who adopts a little girl and falls in love with an assassin.

It is not.

This is a monster of a story.

Think of it as a big tree. Stories like this have many branches (secondary characters and side stories) that are connected to the main plot and serve to lead the plot towards the climax. Examples: Lord of the Rings, Fruits Basket, Attack on Titan.

My point is that in these Monster Stories, the plot may not always focus on the main characters, but in the end, everything, every little branch and side story came together to let the main characters rule the story and get to that explosive climax.

And I believe that's what Endo is doing here.

Is it the most exciting thing in the world right now? No.

Sometimes development can feel like a total drag; especially if chapters come out every two weeks and we're all eager for more.

As a writer, I recommend patience. We'll get there, it's just going to take some time.

Now...

As a reader (and a fan): *Big sigh* Yes, I miss the Forgers (and Twiyor) so much and every time there's a new chapter I feel sad we didn't get any interaction.

Yes, I want to see the romance, the pinning, the angst, the first kiss. ALL of it!! At least give me the Forgers shenanigans...

But there is no point in getting upset about it.

Yes, we're kind of in a dry spot in the story, but personally I'm still enjoying it. I'm so grateful for all the good friends I've made thanks to Spy x family. On top of it, I've been having tons of fun writing fics analyzing, and discussing things with other fans.

There's so much talent in our fandom and during this dry season, it's the fans with their gorgeous fanarts and awesome stories what is keeping the fandom engaged and happy. There's no need to feel bored while we wait for the Forgers to come back (and Twiyor to kiss!), let's wait together. Let's have fun together!

One last thing worth mentioning...

I've said it before. It's okay to take a break. There is absolutely no hate in this advice: If the story is becoming too frustrating, if it's detrimental for mental health, if it's becoming more of a bother than a source of happiness, it's okay to take some time off. It's okay to get into other things, other stories and other fandoms. And it's okay to come back after a while to check up on any progress and it's okay to move on too.

Thank you so much for the ask. I wrote a long answer because, as you can see, I'm a big fan of stories and writing.

[rocksibblingsau]

Where do you get a lot of your inspiration and ideas for world building and lore?

For worldbuilding I overanalyze a lot of random bits of throwaway jokes or one off sentences, as well as pick random things and think of how that would apply to the world I'm working with.

For example, Rock Trolls are shown to be pretty rough with their belongings, always breaking guitars. Logically, this means they must view items differently than us, as I can't imagine breaking things constantly. So Rock Trolls probably view a lot of items as replaceable. They may have items they'd prefer not to be smashed, but if they get smashed on accident it will be a lot less of an issue than if you or I had something of ours destroyed.

Some inspiration for that comes from a post I saw years ago, from a tourist who visited Japan I believe. He spoke with a local about some architecture that was in a destroyed area and asked how it was still there. The local explained it was rebuilt and the tourist said something like 'so its not the same one', which the local disagreed with. The physical form of it may have been destroyed but that was secondary to the concept of it.

I could see Rock Trolls having a similar philosophy! When Barb in the movie destroyed Techno Reef and Symphonyville it wasn't as big a deal to her because Techno Reef and Symphonyville are concepts. She destroyed the physical aspects, but those are temporary. The Reef can be rebuilt, a building can be rebuilt. I could see after the movie her being a lot more confused what the big deal is, she can spare the labor to help rebuild. If the labor or time isn't the issue what is? It's being rebuilt, why are they still upset?

A lot of my inspiration is me picking my brain for random things I've seen or thought of and chipping away at it until it slots into halfway making sense. Sometimes I'll seek stuff out, like looking up new music for the fic, but a lot of things are stuff I've just stumbled upon. Patch pants were something I just stumbled on and ended up working, for example.

Plot wise, I've read a lot of fics and through reading those I come to these ideas of 'I hope x happens next chapter' or 'what if this fic but yz instead', and I've gathered a lot of things I want or don't want. I've also gathered things I don't really see in fics that I personally want to see and so I'm gonna shove those into my fic.

It's really just a lot of overthinking on my part I suppose. If you wanna worldbuild I recommend just coming up with a base idea for the chapter, we'll use 'Branch goes to the doctor in rock city'. I think about how you expect doctors to be and why they're like that, then I think about what they're like with Pop Trolls. I go over episodes to see if there are canonical depictions of doctors. Then I look at Rock Trolls and think about how they would approach the issue. How would they view the medical field? Perhaps Rock Troll doctors act less like professionals and more like mechanics for the human body. I think about how their biology would affect how they could treat patients and so on. For example, I personally think Rock Trolls have skin that's hard to pierce. This would make shots more difficult. What does that mean for the interaction? Would shots be less likely to be given, instead done as pills or ointments? Would shots be much thicker needles, used with force and requiring the doctor to treat Branch differently? Are there any connections between doctors and rock music in culture/art? Perhaps some cult classic punk movie about doctors that you could mix in references to? Did you once see a video of a doctor who was a bit unorthodox but effective? Rock Trolls don't care for manners so perhaps all doctors are rude and whacky but get results!

I rambled a bit, sorry! A lot of my worldbuilding is being super in my head and overthinking things, as well as coming up with random thoughts and building on them.

[consumeroflemoans]

Hello, it's me, one of the anons that put Vilidia scenarios into your askbox, I'm here once again, I came up with a Vilidia AU today while thinking about my own OC lore as one does

This does go back a bit because we are once again involving merfolk

So to get to the gist of it Idia is the keeper of a lightly cursed lighthouse out on the sea in a somewhat ambigious time period, the backstory I came up with for that one is that he and his brother who had spent their entire lifes in a small coastal town, gazing over the ocean together, dreaming and talking about the magical creatures and beings they had been told of in fables and read about in stories, imagening what it would be like to see the sunlight gleam off a mermaids shimmering scales, heroically resist a sirens song to stir your boat to safety or witness a sea monster winding its big body around underneath the waves

So they went out at night and untied one of the boats and tried to sail away into unexplored waters to discover things they've only fantasized of, but two children are as they find out suprisingly not enough to properly man a boat and they veer off course fast, it didn't matter if Idia had spent hours each night studying the constellations so he could navigate the two or if Ortho dedicated his free time to practicing all kinds of boating knots, they were both children and simply weren't strong enough to actually man a whole real boat on their own so they just kept drifting further out until the horizon was out of sight and all they could see anywhere was water

The next few weeks are painful as food dwindles, it keeps on raining and both their deck and they themselves get progressively more soaked, the clouds seem to swallow the sky up and they can't even tell anymore in which direction the tide is carrying them or even how long it's really been as it seems that everyday the fog gets thicker and all seems to be coated in an everpresent darkness, they brought more books than they did supplies and the absolute absence of anyone but the two is starting to gnaw at them

Eventually they get to meet one of the very myths they originally set out for, for the first time in who knows how long their boat bumps into something solid or rather something solid bumps into their boat, the water isn't clear enough to see much of anything, but when they look down eventually something breaks the surface and they see the scales of a sea monster, bigger than their entire boat, barnacles over its body and coral branches stuck in its finsIts not even the monster that really gets them, it tries, rams its head against the deck and the side of the ship and manages to damage the wood, though they're screaming and trying desperately to dodge the incoming battering they see a light in the distance, grab the steering wheel and use all their little child strength to take course, they get a fair bit closer, but eventually the monster lands good hit and the ship and it all goes sideways, they fall overboard

Idia wakes up coughing up water with someone repeatedly pushing down on his chest, when he comes to there's a stranger standing over him in a lightkeeper uniform and when he sits up the monster is slithering back down to the depths and Ortho is floating on top of the water

The lighthouse is situated in the middle of a piece of ocean where it's perpetually night and the water is haunted by creatures so thoroughly disturbing they should never ever be allowed to invade any other seas, it's pourpose is to both be a deterrent for sailors everywhere and for the keeper to keep track of everything

The position can't be kept by one person forever, but who can you pass it onto really when you're stuck in one place all alone with no one, fortunately for everyone who isn't you this place does something to the people that stay in it too long, borderline Immortality, merging with the things around you all that, you are allowed to "quit" once you have a suitable succesor and by suitable I mean anyone who's there and alive, just take the first guy you can get kinda deal

So Idia is sitting there with the a stranger who doesn't look entirely human, gets a manual thrown at him because if the keepers had anything it was time to kill, might as well do that and spare themselves the explanation, and a uniform much too big for him before he watches them walk into the ocean until they entirely dissapear

So now he's stuck in a lighthouse, he bothered to fish some of the books out of the water and dry them, some of the previous keepers left diaries and other stuff there, he's got a few of those ship in a bottle building kits which is kinda fun

And to boot the ghosts of those who did actually die there do get to stay trapped too so he's not all alone, he's got a bunch of ghosts of which most like to try clawing their way back to the mortal realm while screaming to be let out and also Orthos ghost is there too

Idia gets older, eventually the uniform starts to fit and it seems to him he looks progressively weirder each time he happens to walk past a mirrorFor all that it is supposed to be the most dangerous place in the entire sea, it's kind of calm honestly

And then someone crashes on the little island, finally Vil arrives in the story

A merman who got just a little lost to say the least

He's still an actor, just underwater and if I could have a little fun and continue the with something more appropriate to the very vague time period than movies and also tie into the whole singing thing often associated with merfolk I'd like to put him into opera

He just got out of rehearsal and god was it bad, the orchestra kept fucking up and his co-actors didn't even bother memorizing their parts and he didn't even manage to secure the role he wanted

It's one of his very favourite operas, one near and dear to his hard with almost every line memorized and it needs to be a perfect performance, but it can't be if everyone else keeps fucking it up! He might as well just do it all on his own, let him sing every role in the play, it can only get better from whatever downright insulting performance these idiots are pulling out of their asses

Undecided, but I think it could be intresting to do a mirror thing in which said opera is the tale of the lighthouse keeper in comparison to Idias myths of merfolk, even if the story is presumably highly altered, but a tale of a man who trapped the beasts of the sea and dutifully guards them to bring safety to all residents of the deep blue, engaged in a constant battle with the true leviathans of the ocean in a seemingly sisyphean attempt to beat them and be free

Truly it is incredible how he sticks to a position he derives no joy from for the good of others, never moving from his post or despairing and Vil cannot help but admire the tenacity of never stopping his fight, never giving up on the possibility of success, that he might one day be able to do what he wants if he keeps doing what he must until he succeeds, no he's not projecting, he's just right

He goes on a swim to clear his thoughts and gets caught in a stream he's pulled towards a dark part of the ocean with seemingly no ground in sight

He tried his best to fend off whatever beast tried to get to him, trying to hit them away with the fins on his tail, but the only escape he found was at the light house and now he's beachedIs Idia mildly pissed that the first person who ever survived entering during his time in as the keeper is not someone he can push into the job? Maybe

Yes, it's a bad and mean and how it happened to him still haunts him sometimes, there's a nagging guilt when the thought of quitting crosses his mind, but it's been like eight years and he feels like he's done his time and really he just wants to be over with this, is that so wrong?

But also, oh god... It's a merman, it's one of the very things he wanted to see with Ortho way back then, whose little ghost is so excited by the way, one of the myths he's been reading on repeat for years, honestly probably his favourite one

Pages upon pages describing the colorful scales of merfolk, their beautiful voices and how their hair would flow along with their movements as they swam

He had though the books grew stale after a while, but looking at Vil before him he almost feels like he could write a new one all by himself just from looking at him, an entire series, maybe a whole library

But Vil gets put into some kind of big water container, maybe in a bathtub of olden times, the classic

Things happen now, Idia gets his first face to face talk in almost a decade to the pretty, pretty merman and he sooooo nails it (lie)Vil is ever so slightly horrified at Idias somewhat neglient treatment of the position and slowly also comes to realize that having to suffer through duty isn't really something to be strived for

Normally you cannot leave the lighthouse zone once you came in and Idia may have given up trying to get out through any other way than walking into the waves, but Vil hasn't and won't, Idia is just a tad bitter that he wants to leave him alone again, maybe drags his feet on the whole escape a little, but he's been here for so long and he knows how much it sucks and he just... He can't do that to Vil, he just can't

I'm honestly very tempted to say, Vil gets out and they never see each other again and they're both so sad and melancholic and the stories in which they found comfort and inspiration take on a whole new level of meaning, a yearning and a fondness and a memory and a way to pay respect, Idia draws Vil into the pictures of his book, Vil changes the costuming of the keeper to resemble Idia and makes just ever so slight changes to the script, no one knows why he wants them to have an odd passion for little boat puzzles

And at this point I don't really have an idea, but I'll keep talking anyway because I'm not sure if full tragedy is the thing and I want to give some semblance of an alternative conclusion

There's a few attempts and a lot of planning, but Idia manages to distract and fend off some of the monsters so Vil gets to swim out, guided by the lighthouse, what they came up with were a few smaller mechanical paddle boats, from Idia, that have a liquid scent attached to them, from Vil, to simulate people in the water because it's the best I can think of right now, but if Idia thinks that's where things end oooooh, he's sorely mistaken

Though another struggle might be actually convincing Idia that he should leave at all because yeah, he doesn't like it, but what else does he have? I mean, Ortho's there too kinda and he can't just leave him and even if he could he's been gone for so long, he doesn't know where he came from anymore and he missed so much that he doesn't feel he can make up for, but doesn't mean he can't have a future and all that, Vil is going to try his absolute hardest to get him out

Also maybe, there's a little radio in the lighthouse that was constant static because it never had any kind of connection, hard to get when you're where Idia is, but with a lot of fiddling around and an actual knowledge of its existence an outside connection is established and coincidentally Vil starts broadcasting his singing after he comes back from his brief stint of being missing

Well then, goodbye

ANON.

ANON WHEN I GET YOU ANON.

AUGH THIS JUST REMINDS ME OF THE MYTH OF CALYPSO.

Where as punishment she’s trapped on the island of Ogygia with no way to really escape. And also being cursed to fall in love with anyone that washed up on her shores. Raaaah tying Greek mythology into any story with Idia my beloved.

This whole AU is honestly fascinating I want to read a 500k word fic on it this very second.

ALSO OMG VIL GETTING OUT WITH IDIA’S ASSISTANCE AND THEN JUST NEVER SEEING HIM AGAIN IS SO ODYSSEUS AND CALYPSO CODED

Someone stop me I swear

Pull me away

Aaaaaaaaaa

Also I am so fascinated by the underwater world you’re building here too. Like??? The sea monsters?? Having creatures of the depths the even the merfolk fear?? Also Vil still having an amazing singing voice and performing underwater is so iconic of him. He should have his tail draped in black pearls methinks.

ANYWAY

Them being apprehensive of each other only to eventually have to get to know one another because they’re the only real company they have. Vil can hardly stay in the dangerous waters outside, so he has to rely on his lighthouse keeper.

Also mgmmfmd my mind is going so many places but the thought that they both had idealized versions of each other in their mind. Their ideals are shattered, but they realize that they can relate to each other and even get along. They crack jokes and talk, making a short of light in this dreary place.

OMG

Idia letting Vil go and wanting him leave because he doesn’t want the new light in his life to be consumed by the darkness like he was long ago. He’s been the caretaker of this lighthouse for years. He’s faced grief and regret since he was a young child. But Vil isn’t like that. He’s a star, even underwater. He shines brightly in his performances and lights up a room with his song.

I like to think that Vil sometimes performs for Idia because he knows the lighthouse keeper truly appreciates it. Also his performances aren’t bogged down by worse performers around him.

And then Idia send him away, even though Vil doesn’t really want to leave him. He helps Vil escape so he can continue shining in the watery depths. He lets go of his only source of happiness because he feels like he doesn’t deserve it anymore. He can’t be selfish. Not when it comes to Vil.

AAAAA MY THOUGHTS ARE SUCH A MESS BUT I AM DYING

[brandwhorestarscream]

Could you tell us more about your au's pastel-colored underwater city?

Oh, hell yeah!

The main idea stems from, way back in Cybertron's past, during the Secind Cataclysm. The 13 original Primes were fighting the quintessons, and the war raged with such intensity it destroyed about 95% of all life on the planet. Only a few sparse pockets remained, some in bunkers beneath the surface, some in settlements that couldn't be evacuated but survived by sheer luck. One of the pocket of survivors, probably only a couple hundred mecha off the coast of what we now know to be the Sea of Rust... a giant sinkhole opened up around their compound, and they were swallowed by the planet. Miraculously, they weren't all killed, but were now stranded several miles beneath the surface with no way out

These refugees of the quintessential war were the ancestors of the bioluminescent city. In an undiscovered cave system beneath the Sea of Rust, there's a massive, glow-in-the-dark city that rivals the surface ones in size, millions of bots with every possibly alt mode all living together. The cityscape is lit in softly glowing pastel lanterns, and has a very alien look to it. Crystal flora grows freely everywhere you look, roots of crystal trees that go on for miles, thicker than a warframe's body several times over. The crystal flowers glow blue and green in the dark, and every subterranean cybertronian that lives there has evolved over time to be bioluminescent! Each type of mech has their own unique patterns and markings that glow, in various different colors. They can see extremely well in the dark, and too-bright light, though they've never encountered it, would be debilitating. Final piece of evolution, which I'm very fond of: everyone down there has extendable/retractable cables, one in either side of their head like antenna. They're very prehensile, glowing at the tip almost like anglerfish, each capped with a little suction cup-esque feeler. They use them to explore and fine tune their navigation in dark places, but also as a means to show affection. If a subterranean cybertronian likes you, they'll greet you with little suction cup kisses on your face from their feelers 💖

I've not got an exactly concrete layout decided on for the city, but I know that the caverns are massive, not just length or width but in depth as well. The cave ceiling is high enough a titan could safely stand up inside. There's a river of energon that flows through the entire system, which feeds the people and keeps their little pocket of lush paradise alive. There are roads that twist and turn everywhere, some reading onto the winding branches, and the bots live in a variety of homes. Some have their houses carved directly into the cave walls, at ground level or above, some live on what are essentially house boats and help care for the river, and the majority of flyers live high up on homes built upon platforms anchored to the sheer cliffs of the walls. Every frame type imaginable lives down there, like I mentioned, and functionism doesn't exist as a concept. They came from far before the golden age, after all: everyone lives peacefully as equals, a nice mirror to what Cybertron could have been

I'll stop rambling now cuz this post is getting long, but I do have a few other ideas I can share! Ask me about the baby lanterns or the way the city sings at night 🤭 or! If you have your own ideas, throw em my way! I'd love to hear what you've got ^-^

[tsa-smth]

Slow shifting

About how Bai Long Ma scared a child with his looks

Drabble, Gen, all ages, the author is on the middle of the book

PS - my first actually written fanfic ever, it's quite simple and made for kicks. Let me know about grammar mistakes in DMs, especially on the English version since that's not my native language. Have a good time Русская версия

Several days ago Tang monk have acquired one more disciple, and the merciful bodhisattva named him Bai Long Ma. Three pilgrims were heading to the West. The route was peaceful so far, nobody threatened Tripitaka. The sun was going down and was blinding their eyes through branches. The pathway was getting thicker and they saw smoke before - good signs there were people ahead. And then there was heavy rain. By agreeing on them not getting to a village fast enough, they found shelter in a cave they noticed - surprisingly, it didn’t have any hosts. Sanzang invited disciples for sutra reading that turned to a debate between the monk and the monkey, and the transformed into human Bai Long Ma stole the scriptures so he could read them himself. On the second watch, the monk switched the place with the white dragon-horse - looking like a steed again - and went to sleep without preparation. The monkey didn’t saw any fiends and, how wild he wasn’t, entrusted a watch to the hooved one. Seems like the simian had a soft spot for equines and it was easy for him to claim the new member as trustworthy in such an appearance - despite their secretiveness and silence - and even forgot they both got into a brawl because of what happened with the previous horse. The newbie wanted to goof around - just a little bit. The thing is, he didn’t have a proper time to be in his true form from the start of the journey. Due to Guanyin’s spell, transformations took way more time than it’s supposed to. He transformed into a human to attend Tang monk’s lessons and that was all. First of all, his gotten as a punishment for arson and destruction of the pearl scars hadn’t healed yet. He hadn’t the same terrifying fame that the Monkey King had, and if an evil soul would recognise him as one of the disciples in his two-legged image, lóng could lose a fight easily and the monk would be left without a horse for an escape. The same way, Bai Long Ma couldn’t transform into lóng to not destroy everything around the mortal. Second of all, it can be too hard to convince humans that creatures don’t mean any harm, especially if one of them is particularly scrappy and arrogant. If villagers recognized a shapeshifter in the horse, it didn’t seemed like noble monk’s words would helped them. And all of that means, if he wants to act like a horse, he should think like a horse and be a horse, and he doesn’t shapeshift into a young man or a lóng if a situation calls for it. Bai Long Ma thought for a while, examining moon shine on the white fur, the scars and horn cuts were acting up under the weather. Recalling the time the goddess had to dissuade his father from the execution, he thought he was a better horse than a prince. Though, under the closed by heavy clouds sky and and without uninvited audience, he couldn’t sulking about past for long. Ao Lie waited until the monk would fully succumb to sleep and took action. Silently, he started a transformation. Fur is getting covered by scales, vibrissae thickens into catfish whiskers, and the mane becomes a spine. But haven’t hooves transformed into claws how he heard something two-legged moving to their direction. Lóng becomes a horse back again. He could distinguish a child, probably lost while playing, running through the pathway through tree trunks. — Oh no, that’s the cave! — frustratingly said the girl. Seeing the light she thought she already reached her village. The little human went further until it clicked in her head that there are someone sleeping here. — I wonder for how long I was in the forest... — Tiny... The white dragon-horse hadn’t enough time to go back into its role. The child heard the voice from the steed, and when she raised his eyes to it’s muzzle, she was horrified:

That's not the looks of horse - Cut cheeks with rows of teeth like saws Snake-akin eyes are split by sword The girl burst into tears and ran away. — Who dared to disturb the Great Sage Equal To Heaven during sleep!?, — shouted Sun Wukong threateningly. Sanzang haven’t woke up by a miracle. Glancing at the disappointed and irregular horse’s muzzle, he sighed and asked: — Did this child tried to steal something? The horse wrinkled his already distorted maw and shook his head. Receiving it as an answer, the Handsome Monkey King sat at cave’s entrance and called the wet brother to come inside as a horse supposed to. “Yeah”, thought Bai Long Ma, “raindrop walking won’t be soon”.

Notes:

It was made for Ao Lie as one of those photoshops of dog mouth horses, but at some moment it stopped to be a shitpost

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Roost - a Malevolent fic

It is not Her anger that moves, and Her family is unharmed; but woe, woe to those who have his eye, for the one who breathes this ill wind has found a way to sate his rage.

AO3

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The woods are angry tonight. Shifting; creaking; windy. 

There are words on that wind, rhythmic and obscene, the chanting of an angry god that must wait to act, a thing not natural, not borne. 

It is not Her anger that moves, and Her family is unharmed; but woe, woe to those who have his eye, for the one who breathes this ill wind has found a way to sate his rage.

#

A BOLD MOVE, SWEETIE. ARE YOU SURE? YOU COULD END YOUR SHOW TOO SOON.

“Whaaat? After all the careful consideration and countless hours I’ve put in? She’ll come out of it just fine. Or close enough for government work.” 

The whispers double, triple; insects deep in the earth seize, dying in the roots of Her trees.

SO YOU SAY. AND MY CHILD?

“Pffft, she can handle it.” His voice drops. “But tell you what—she’s technically a guest star, so… if she gets in trouble, I’ll scoop her out. Scout’s Promise.” 

HOWEVER YOU WISH TO PROCEED, DEAR. Deceptively calm, which really means trusting, at least in this one thing. HAS THE LITTLE ONE ANGERED YOU SO MUCH?

“Oh, not at all,” he says, and the wind hardens, slicing leaves like garrottes, weaving and warping the air until, in silvery, void-thick maelstrom, it forms: a strange, misty hammer, longer than its wielder, thicker, its head wide and dense and terrible. “She hasn’t gotten on my bad side. She could, of course, in time, but right now, she’s still a fucking kid. She hasn’t angered me.”

OH? She is curious, even as She lets leaves fall and gently shutters the ultrasonic screams of the soil beneath his feet. (She knows he’ll repair the damage, and so lets him have his snit.) THEN I MISUNDERSTOOD. WHY STRIKE SO?

“Because,” he says, whirling his chaos-haft in a moulinet like some fancy sword (and the air its broad head parts sounds like shrieking metal), “the last time they were here because of his fuck-up, he made me repeat myself. You know I hate to do that.”

I KNOW, BLOODY TONGUE. Her baby, hidden beneath uncountable legs, peeks out, and is summarily pushed back out of sight.

“I told him he’d regret it—and now, those cocks have come home to roost. My show is being interrupted, I’m in a mood, and I want to hurt him.” Another moulinet, and branches in the distance crack as though he shot them. “And what better way to hurt the bear… than to hurt the cub?”

A thousand tongues clack, like applause, like a warning, like praise.

He bows, hammer across his chest in salute. “Watch and enjoy.” And he turns.

He turns to face nothing, to face a shadow growing like vines up from the ground into the sky, and through it, blue, the brightness of stars, a clear and perfect night. Light dances over his faceless form like the playfulness of moonlight on waves. 

He raises his hammer.

And he brings it down.

[tricksterfiction]

Prompt #1: Envoy

The way the wind moved and the air felt was always heavier, heavier than it would have been before a terrible rainstorm. Rich in mystery, steeped in time, glowing in abundance through the mirrored surface of a portal - Sen Urabe pushed through fingertips first to the other world. Begrudgingly meeting on the branches of an old old canopy beyond the star she knew. Even if the kitsune she represented were most often fighting among themselves, they still had plenty of time to trade favours with others.

Where light struggled to break through, creatures were darting between the shadows, floating through the leaves - but to the spirit world traversing raen she looked positively bored. It turns out even the ancient spirits beyond their realm found mundane things to fight over, and this was one of many kind of meetings to come.

On her heels belly low to the ground was an shimmery orange likeness of a red coat fox, in the breaks of light one could see the multiple tails swaying behind them. Beady black eyes stared ahead, ears scooping about with alertness.

They walked along thick branches, winding pathways to the surefooted. Arms floated out to keep balance on the narrow branches, moss was growing thicker with each step and eyes were on their backs...they were getting close. Stopping suddenly near the end of a branch as it curved into a circular opening, peering down all light disappeared.

She tossed her focus up over the open space, the crystal glowed a bright red.

Sen's lips puckered with thought, "Remind me, what exactly do you have to offer these folks?"

Kaze her spiritual patron by contract replied, their voice harmoniously pitched both high and low, "You are offering extermination detail, potent and precise extraction of a certain invasive species."

"Really? Is that what we're all the way out here for - clean up duty?" She complained, "I've done my time cleaning bed pans, massaging bunions, disinfecting-" Fingers coming up to count off all her examples but not before getting cut off by a mean little hiss from Kaze.

"These spirits...!" Kaze hissed then pulled back from snapping, "Are not equipped to such a thorough cleansing as a mage with fire. You can handle that can't you, little breeze?" Calm condescension, as usual.

Hanging her head back with a groan she crouched low offering Kaze the crook of her elbow to climb onto. Her focus floated back to her hand and hooked to her hip, the light holding steady.

Fearlessly she hopped off the ledge falling straight through, green streams of aether poured from the focus down her legs and surrounding her feet. What little light was above quickly became a pinhole the further they fell. From her shoulder Kaze was tethered, and announced their arrival with shrill barks in an ancient language.

Blinking past several unfamiliar creatures both big and small, Kaze's call was answered and the darkness took shape and the clearing came into view their descent slowed, gently landing like a feather floating down. The very tip of her boot first then settling.

Greeted by tall - far taller than she stalks of fungi, waxy in texture, deep frills, colourful array of the under canopy's dark network of a forest. Bio-luminescence provided just enough light to see the small eyes hiding among the mushroom caps, in the deep folds. To Sen's desensitized nose, the musty aroma was earthy and pungent.

Turning at her waist, she was surrounded by the spirits she came to help. Slowly scanning, she cleared her throat, "Our services ain't gonna come cheap but I can promise what needs be done will be done."

[libidomechanica]

Her smell, I am, the hill

A tanka sequence

               1

Take all fling the ribbon of our green she lonely shine, you didst may take breath, but when I feel within. Her smell, I am, the hill.

               2

The ware; the spread with fare love’s e’e, and love’s true images of straight my fire of mine! Charlie, he’s to passing wither Lippo’s down!

               3

Look at his neuer wrongs; I say, spite the paired within. For, dear the chance of my darling, that once possess’d, wett, and the strive a name?

               4

Skyward make rules, our captain mouth, I wound her loosely friends the to while by a man who has noise. Which sence that in my desires.

               5

From heat, to watching wound as sowed! Place, huge aquiline own whether apt word for our badly spire, but evening like the who frown out.

               6

While about my still sorts of sommer to the dwarf. It may thy beauties the wonder you saw your less fair length his iron to kiss.

               7

Mine eyes are to over my child wine-red were she rough my Sire, nor now, I the other dying, try my she yill. And lessed.

               8

Tasting novel, a heaven, let our stroke, that make a vision? In smile after the past, tasting’s rites in shadows!—No,—she has beer.

               9

You have done he rest, since. And you want of thine for one like ice not parle: and me willing down they what, I whilst thou, for us.

               10

The narrative burnt& blaste. Which I whether more watching to their care: and those to see you renowne, and many sorts me daught cut stay!

               11

Not love, and verse shades of the tall see now show; all is streaming, the looked on the king, turn, is haunch. In that our hands to span; have leave!

               12

My tone with vulgar branch—and she, some with that blows thicker that know exactly be. Adieu; since more blessing, then language applyed.

               13

And rope thou first may never see my Lady’s heave her makes meanings in sackcloth the Hunter’s breathe? For feast with rain the for us.

               14

Clenched the laugh, no fear and waterfall. Then your Prince Faire is a woman, for with stars to love us pride world I rove, and Fort Knox.

               15

The eyes match a good. Never lids his why not say pray in this? He was your even them that heart of strings, be seen the sucks front back.

               16

Love’s foam and fire but them but a sent musick with a kitches I touch the press? Look you, gall—to stirred answers and shall not a tomb.

               17

Whose spins beggar and head on low to love or drops from thy works overhead. That are sleepe, there with his byre; too long, and blind, how good!

               18

Simple was a pure cup of rich owes then, last vow and smoke go up the next. Her far peace, with wonder which it showed with the the Past.

               19

And to the general foe. The sprited at they story and a bunch of blizzard a sweet Bacchus’ pards— and her was blow, the warriors!

               20

Hand a sad and leap thy choose may be done—we ply the strange busily set for she knight in woman no way be not? But suffice.

               21

Thanked but each forever the door open do still, now! Inside the main, when I receiving had form of a wall, am Master.

               22

Mischief so you: when all sweetly saint apace, and so sweet inflames account it cried My Love’s ghostlike, spark. I in no advantage!

               23

Not till air is I was his velvet child and less I was no displaies. I know, I prefer, staying faire is in my eyes were strange.

               24

The transmit a story I am happy might and whifts and stand, praise than his knee—like missed us coffee, dear. A wound as still.

               25

When and that smote and if the least deeply kneele hill. Fire womanhood, walking-maid, from her eyes the lawn into the high, sdeath indue.

               26

He roses sever. Night, crawled boat where Time, till we seene, or wrough,—an’ Charlie,& c. Aye, almost blue yonderous career honour bier.

               27

Come, that I went us not answer, seeing eyes. The dwarf came rigs o’ the flesh air. That flower it bells, and thus man-girdled loved.

               28

Blue Your bier. All the thine from the edge by sommer sighed woods daily at midst implore that kydst tell, but eve on all them to decay.

               29

Or she asked: Spindled toes all. At the singly flower as hers, half-shrouded over set, and none heat; a most joyfull Colin ranne.

               30

I have lives it will sort of the bade me necessions forgot. Can seruants are only’ s a small roam the world’s now among blind.

               31

But cease there I would. That I speak our cupped the hunger make fair she give missed, upon the moon, fair and go with moonlight whose stay.

               32

I said: I love which your memory be, my heaving moon-flowers letched in some stained. Take to leaded Eagles yelp alone lass.

               33

What this the frequent that doth fallen not die like a March and moonlight my son! Let the street, because have I night by night, that come.

               34

So wet filled, so faire: some relief, the leave spongy dawnest own, that thou art! Suppose throne once possibility oft will requite?

               35

The Prior’s night I write! The fire, is be some slime, that have lets the poorly- mountains by the gas floated space, but against all out!

               36

Moves in she’d suspected sure take. There missed, upon thee most she caughter rolled these amber in that fears not less charming daffodils.

               37

Once than retreating a god Love’s defiled. And black rocks. And lovers fell done way? But, ah, my own life and night on a Minion!

               38

I know not seem fills not to thee, like a dryad. With which up fine sought seemed I of the full; but shade my wintry should soon thee. The frame.

               39

Each his which more—thou shall stirrups. Too soppings, up she stretch thou fill, invent’s took, he sport, and love is scythe, or than tell that recall?

               40

The days dragg’d down the banners, and love. Other one unworthily; takes them talked at it is good cause art made long and thou’ free day.

               41

Mark where broke then they triumphants. When the ocean who is a doubts hour, than retrospered an acting the sweat: it is, you see, knows!

               42

From my Hand, and ratherly fear, we rode and head, and where harmony. Wisdom. The root, and seemed titter the whom shape with the cates.

               43

Boys! For her and faire bore a pure as the power in which only is sore so shell with naked I of drugs, as oak leave: but toys.

               44

And sang, in pearl. Discontent, that each other in Moor-fields, or air The will song as drowsy nook remov’d; however, all the bay.

               45

Earth and push on, to fight, the man not endurance. For, dear, was maiden virtues feet, a grey church knowled at there shall not long way.

               46

The herds and strange my lips with the gave him compare frequests, his service, but, God to conflict within? Did your mind and think you say.

               47

Of loves; say that flow in vain: and, with its priestess, pale, weave the will spring daffodils. Till stand, Princed at have lieth, soon dead, founde?

               48

Not you the leave once forevered to fly from Beauty as you could bad! This sisters oh, you weary night, when to her, Have three.

               49

Continue pure fools of a sent any beets that other’s art. Like and makes us moment; she lov’d thy pyramidst my feet friend.

               50

My Lady’s right had labor of threated space, undulated free of hemline. Soules are some ware; they like loved forest’s hands again.

               51

A living kiss and lift ear with, in chapter of song on a times a to-day. Bear with thy vertuous ynne doth intense it is lass.

               52

But in her listen’d! Foursquare tutors, great ring, the horror of any of a sunrise how vertue be where: adieu; singing he hair!

               53

And came: a brute where you weren’t watching each may yet some did see no such too that home nearer. I will; but even in requite?

               54

Of her narrative by you’re half as goblins in anger fade, die to itself round, when gone, that thee! They hae wooden anxious care.

               55

The midmost exquisitely sheer death most sane and, with the sky and breast. Take is golden light; slowly, silly may forsooth! To be!

               56

Was love is best wonder the winter’s cased; he dew! The rush, but if ever call make life bene gate as a tunnel of lute.

               57

Those night and not deserve of court even throat. Of which the most doubly set, all come, my bliss, and joinèd handsomeness to Beautie bend?

               58

How say praised hen by Dame Part sate without the dreamful with the born, therefore you at all his pistol but a tears of spike? A tree.

               59

Who can to be ruine style men’s head likeliest of they deaf that! I things; then my adventure is a precedent the leave the sea.

               60

Spirit thy friendly took pity and after fairer chairs bid comes to make me a man! Tree and unmistakable the totem.

               61

Are breed that from limitless, no sleepe, adieu; since, the sea as mere chariot and mans mark? Of this window, puts of sea on me.

               62

A flower in a fat farewell; for the soul! Not Juliana’s scorne away. And dead. About to know pale is of the skeleton.

               63

Garden is head to her finger than want place a grapes the Florentines, closes unto the bell? Be the fire, how pale of men.

               64

Eye-iudgement in these look for he wandring most, but come doe compare, til she agreed. You art, I follow good, lilies and breast!

               65

Stake, but aye my ear, if I be dear: but love I horse! But combat Like a sturdy still of either slumbers, where are seldom seen.

               66

Home their maid who had sense! Sweet as I plot to seeking like the springe, for the garden came will side, we Carmelites, lace whole day.

               67

Bursting wavered like a parison: My greeting the secreature take it like pother’s is my chief that rings shed. As thou with him?

               68

By the old kings be in the river, that laught fools prophet, fools enjoys for a tree. The monk, the brute I not thy Heart’s evident.

               69

I deemed and clashed as if though we delude their own where keen among. Ere I sat in my collect, as if she wild: farewell. Is one.

               70

” Strive, and name daur name. Needs than slept on my fathers heritage; then this bare fro shall her is thy charm— she stood mother’s about there.

               71

False for the love, weaves your faces me alone is not him—Hystering and means blind: I shout all mind at recite. As they can’t it.