#and the roots of that mountain run very very deep

[incendiorum-arch]

OH expanding on that post I made yesterday - I do think that io's perceptions of some things have really been near-irreparably damaged. not... completely, because I think they could heal from it if they sought help (io doesn't do that though! haha sobs). in that io's idea of trusting people is broken beyond belief. which kinda happens when you're raised in an environment where you literally cannot trust anything your parents say or tell or do to you, and then add the double whammy of a child you raised betraying you in an incredibly painful and sudden way.

and then io's perception of being loved is skewed, too. kudos again to their parents. io believes that they have to earn love. all the time. io thinks they need to be self-sufficient. pull their own weight. do something worthy in order to deserve love. which is how you edge into the territory of io sometimes quietly asking if I do [this] will you love me? and the even worse territory of io self-isolating when their mental health tanks, holing up to drink alone and unsafely, or pressing forward when injured despite the fact that they shouldn't be doing that. or that in their weakest moments io will act distressed and hostile because they're so totally convinced that the second they show weakness, their loved one will decide they're not worth being loved. which is why io doesn't ever fucking ask for help.

which, isn't fun to be on the receiving end of, I'll admit. but it's one of those things where it's just not fun for both parties involved.

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: How You Hypnotize

❤︎ "People are afraid, very much afraid of those who know themselves. They have a certain power, a certain aura and a certain magnetism." - Rajneesh

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✿ Pile One (5oW, Strength, 8oC, Judgement)

Do you have Mula (Sagittarius), Magha (Leo), or Ashwini (Aries) placements? You’re giving off some serious last-one-standing energy. Mula is particularly known for its ability to defy all odds, taking down a “beast” that seems far stronger through wit and quick resolve. It embodies the Belle archetype—well-read, gentle, and kind—able to reign in even the most formidable challenges. This energy suggests a remarkable strength in navigating difficult situations, using intelligence and empathy to emerge victorious.

Life has tried you, pushed you to the brink, and dangled you over a cliff. All while a crowd of people whooped and hollered, rooting for your demise.

But guess what… you’re the one sitting pretty on top of a mountain while everyone else is where?… oh, AT THE BOTTOM OF THE FUCKING CLIFF!

I didn���t plan this reading to be so… boastful? But you deserve to puff your chest out, babe.

You’ve had enemies. Honestly, this isn’t common. When the average person hears about somebody having a lot of “haters” they brush it off and assume that person just has a big head. However, that’s your reality. Your energy triggers people so they consider you a threat to whatever they have going on. For some of you, this could be your own family or closest friends. 

There’s a quiet, obsessive intensity behind your eyes. The fire element is prominent in this reading, indicating a deep, aching desire to consume, burn, and clear everything in your path. While you may feel exhausted from a lifetime of battles, your soul thrives on challenges, igniting a fierce determination within you. This duality fuels your passion, pushing you to confront obstacles head-on, even when the struggle feels overwhelming. Embrace that fire; it’s not just a source of exhaustion, but also a wellspring of resilience and transformation.

🎵YOU KNOW WHEN TO HOLLLDDD ‘EM, KNOWW WHEN TO FOOLLDD ‘EMM, KNOW WHEN TO WALLKKK AWAY, KNOW WHEN TO RUUUUUNNNNNN! 🎵

Your intelligence transcends mere book smarts and common sense, creating an incredibly hypnotic aura around you. Your situational awareness allows you to navigate social dynamics effortlessly, running circles around people, and leaving them tangled in their own webs of thought. You’re scarily smart, a strategic thinker who sees layers others miss. There’s a striking contrast between your physical appearance and the cunning nature beneath the surface; you may look like a doll, seemingly delicate and innocent, but there’s a fierce and dangerous intellect at play. This duality not only captivates those around you but also keeps them guessing about your next move. You also possess incredible endurance—not just in a physical sense, but in your ability to withstand a remarkable amount of bullshit that would have caused most people to tap out long ago.

People look at you and think, “How?” How are you still standing, and how did you manage to come out on top? This aura of resilience draws some people in, compelling them to want to learn your secrets. However, not everyone’s interest is innocent; for some, it morphs into a dark obsession, pushing them to challenge your resolve and see if they can crack your thick skin. This dynamic creates a complex dance around you, where admiration and envy intertwine.

P.S. Even if you’re not Ketu dominant or a Mula native, please watch Claire Nakti’s, The “Final Girl” Astrological placement research video, you will definitely resonate. If you comment, tell them AriJackz from Tumblr sent you!

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

✿ Pile Two (Knight of Pentacles, 2oS, Strength, 7oC (S?), The Star, Judgemental, Short, Melancholic, 4oP)

“HEART BEEN BROKE SO MANY TIIMMESSS

I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO BELIEVEEE

MAMA SAYS IT’S MY FAULLT, IT’S MY FAULLTTT

I WEAR MY HEART OF MY SLEEEEVVVEEEE!”

It’s not your fault, baby! Bitches are just greedy 🙄

This is straightforward, you’re a star! You have that undeniable je ne sais quoi, ¿Cómo se dice… “Everyone wants to be them” energy. As a multi-faceted individual, you possess countless layers that draw people in. Each aspect of your personality holds a unique appeal, making it so that there’s a piece of you that everyone desires. This captivating nature not only sets you apart but also invites beggars who benefit from being near your energy. 

You’re not consciously aware of this power and that’s what makes it great; it’s not manipulated or curated, you just are. In your younger years, you were like a fairy prancing around with a basket of love, giving away pieces of your heart to anyone who looked your way with sad little-kicked puppy eyes. 

However, the world is full of greedy hands that have no intention of giving as much as they receive. You were born with a heart of gold and encountered these all-consuming energies quite early in life, prompting you to spend your adolescence developing discernment and better judgment to avoid getting burned again. This journey has shaped you into someone who values authenticity and reciprocity, allowing you to navigate relationships with a keen awareness of what truly nurtures your spirit.

Even if you don’t feel you have anything explicitly special about you, everyone else sees that you do! In a world where many feel boring and unoriginal in their own skin, your vibrant energy can be a source of irritation for those who struggle with their own identity. Your unique shine serves as a reminder of what they lack, sparking feelings of envy or frustration.

Although, that doesn't mean they won’t play nice in your face while robbing you blind behind your back. You learned this the hard way. 

“There's an old saying in Tennessee — I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again.” - George W. Bush

YOU DON’T PLAY. You hold your magic close to your chest and are very weary of possible leeches. This guardedness reflects your hard-won wisdom; you know how precious your energy is and are selective about who gets to share in it. THIS IS HYPNOTICCCC.

Your presence is exclusive; not just anyone gets to brush shoulders with you. This rarity makes people eager to be seen as special enough to get close to you. You have options—a variety of choices in friends, partners, lovers—and that selectivity only heightens the allure. People yearn to be among the few you hand-select to join your inner circle, hoping to share in your energy and insights. This creates a magnetic pull, as they aspire to earn a place in your life.

If you didn’t know this, I’m telling you now. Look back on your social interactions and the slick words said to you, probably people accusing you of thinking you’re the shit (you are), and you’ll see just how much of a star you are. 

P.S. Some of you are tiny little spitfires. I don’t think that’s important, but I felt inclined to mention it. If so, that adds to the allure. 5 foot nothing but your attitude is 10 feet tall.

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

✿ Pile Three (Knight of Pentacles, 2oS, Strength, 7oC (S?), The Star, Judgemental, Short, Melancholic, 4oP)

You’re a storm, baby. I know I got some Adra natives in the cleerrb!

A few days ago, my 59-year-old neighbor and I were walking around the park, it was eerily quiet- no children were playing in the field and the trees were the stillest I had ever seen. Breaking the silence, she told me about a belief in ancient Hindu folklore that on days when the sky is framed in dark, dense clouds and the winds are still- not a single gust rustling the trees- the Earth is waiting with weighted breath for the outcome of a long-withstanding battle against good and evil.

She said that when I woke up the next morning, to check the news and see if a famous politician or some powerful person behind the scenes had died- thus being defeated. I checked; a few notable names had passed but the stand-out thing that happened was a vision I saw in a dream where an ex-friend sent me a letter in the mail admitting to some harmful actions I had growing suspicions about. This finally put my mind at ease and reaffirmed my gut intuition. 

I don’t know how to say this without sounding so… metaphorical/poetic, but you’re the person divine consciousness sends to represent the light’s grand victory. You are the embodiment of a prevailing soul. With all ten swords in your back, you’ll get up again and again. 

You’re not sent to the world as the Universe’s sparkling trophy because of luck; no, you’re highly regarded because you walked the same path, you’re no stranger to going to war and coming out with more than a few bumps and scrapes. 

This is not a flashy victory. Not like in the movies where you get ganged up on by bullies, pull out karate moves, whoop some ass, and come out looking like an underdog. This war consists of consecutive, painstaking setbacks and challenges slowly chipping away at your character, leaving behind a shell of a person for you to pick the pieces up and rebuild stronger. It’s a series of quiet battles fought within, where the scars aren’t always visible but the growth is profound. Every moment of doubt, every instance of perseverance, shapes you in ways that aren’t always glamorous but are deeply transformative.

You have scars that manifest as art, each one a mark of survival. Artistic souls look at you and see a single tree still standing after a hellish storm—roots deep in resilience, branches reaching for the light. Each scar is a testament to your journey, a story etched into your skin, reminding the world that even after the fiercest winds, life is reborn with greater tenacity to endure and thrive. 

You carry a thick atmosphere with you, whenever you’re coming the Earth seems to hold its breath to await you. You’re not abrasive or stand-offish, conversely, you’re quite soft, well-balanced, and can even be romantic at times. But that only emphasizes the sharp, heaviness of your presence. 

Yea, we all go through shit but do we all come out the other end with an open heart and willingness to live life optimistically? Fuck no 😭😭.

Somehow... you do and that’s hypnotic as fuck, my love! It’s like, hOW?! Even if people didn’t see the wars you fought, your backbone poses itself like a warrior’s. The way you carry yourself speaks volumes; it imprints on the minds of others far more than words ever could. Your presence is magnetic, a silent testament to your strength and resilience. Talking is just the bare bones of communication; it’s your spirit, your aura, that truly captivates. 

LMAO you’re the type to say less than five words to someone and they’re running back to their friends telling them you’re different from everyone else.

P.S. Your key to bagging anyone you want is your eyes, learn to flirt with your eyes. 

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

✿ Pile Four (The Emperor, Ace of Wands, 3oS, Judgement, The Fool, courageous, Spiritual, Observant, Self-assured, Thirsty, Aimless)

Hmmm, you’re a playboy, stay far away from my easily attached heart, DEMON 🫵.

I’M PLAYING. But for real, you knew the answer to this question before you chose the pile LMFAO.

You’re just plain sexy! That’s it! You’re vivacious and a smooth talker; you like to razzle dazzle your way into people’s minds where your imprint overstays its welcome, making them sick with their lack of permanent access to you.

You’re a social butterfly, flying from person to person, pollinating them with the attention they yearn for, and then flying off to the next adventure, leaving them dizzy with the need to catch and keep you in a cutely decorated mason jar with poked holes up top. Of course, this would kill you, so stay how you are, beautiful!

This might be a bit explicit, but you have a unique way of stirring people’s desires. You don’t need to be overtly sexual; it’s your rare lack of fear of rejection that draws people in. At least, that’s how others see it. In a social world laced with fear, you seem to have an optimistic mentality where, “Every shot you don’t take, you miss.” So you are one of the few humans who aren’t riddled with worries about how you’re perceived and people’s judgments of your character. What is rare is wildly hypnotic.

People thirst over you, like foaming-at-the-mouth rabid dog ARFF ARFF BARK BARK type of thirst… in silence. You are actually way too intimidating to approach. Male or female, socially, people perceive you as high quality and assume you get a lot of attention that the everyday person can not compete with, so they only daydream from afar. 

You’re arm candy. Throughout writing this I pictured famous videos of celebrities like Angelina Jolie, Jhene Aiko, and Chris Evans seducing and unnerving the interviewer through subtle actions. Like the other piles, your aura is the dominant communicator and it doesn’t take much for you to get a mf barking. 

People fear you’ll break their hearts, but funnily enough, you’ve entertained one or two losers in the past and left relationships with a few scars and stories you have to sniffle through to tell. But that’s okay; those experiences teach us how to discern who deserves to be in our lives and who doesn’t. You only let them in because you try not to discriminate, and truly just have a deep passion for connection with anyone and everyone you encounter. Never change, you’re the flame the rest of us moths flock to.

P.S. Discernment and trusting your judgment is a lifelong study; don’t beat yourself if someone who you thought had your best interest at heart, doesn’t in reality. Count that towards your research, dust yourself off, and try again. You’re too brave to let a liar stop your ability to enjoy human company. 

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

[nonsensenook]

Chapter 1 | Torn, Placed

Synopsis: An unapologetic take on you, the reader, appearing in the world of Black Myth to accompany the Destined One on his journey.

Word Count: 2,138

Warnings: Violence

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy and join me in the indulgence!

Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - 3.5 (Optional)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You felt your legs screaming as your inner shirt clung to you with sweat. It’s been hours since today’s trek began and you truly would do anything to simply sink to the forest floor and cuddle with some nearby mushrooms to sleep. Despite passing some very inviting fungi you refrained from asking to rest. After all, this wasn’t your journey. It wasn’t your place to halt its progress as you wished. You felt you were enough of a burden to have added yourself to a story already written. Tired as you were, you could always rely on your own stubbornness to keep you going. 

The Destined One held out an arm, stopping you as he listened for any sounds ahead. Unlike you, his breathing wasn’t labored. You weren’t sure if he ever needed to sweat. He looked as he always did: composed, reliable, and ready with staff in hand. Watching him like this reminded you of the deep gratitude you held for him, one that came to be long before you stood by his side.

It’s been nearly two weeks since you appeared in this world. You don’t remember much other than vague flashes of memories. You were falling, tumbling, then a creature of unfathomable size found you. You remember bracing yourself as its claws promised a swift death. You saw a staff crash down on its head just as you fell unconscious. The next time you opened your eyes you were laying near a fire. Darkness and a lush forest surrounded you. Someone had draped a spare robe over you. That someone, you recognized, slept across from you sitting up; leaning against a tree. 

You remember staring at him, hands running through your hair in stunned silence. He was a character turned to life, one that you knew too well. After almost burning your hand in the fire to test the theory of a dream you pieced together the only logical conclusion to this illogical situation. One that you weren’t ready to accept. Your thoughts and rising panic were interrupted by the Keeper of Blackwind Mountain. 

He appeared in a whirl of smoke, waving the mist away and pointing towards you with the end of a backscratcher. He called you an “unprecedented interloper.” You couldn’t say you disagreed. The Destined One awoke to the two of you exchanging questions that neither could answer. There was the idea to have you dropped off at a human village, though this was quickly rejected as not only was it well off the course, but the Keeper had a sneaking suspicion that your presence, however “wrong” and “erroneous,” was tied to that of the Destined One’s. It was decided that you would accompany him on his journey, whether that be for a larger role you play or simply to keep you alive. You personally leaned more towards the latter. “Perhaps,” the Keeper said as smoke enveloped him once more, “once everything falls back into place, then so too would you.” 

The Destined One initially traveled ahead of you so as to scout for potential dangers. This was remedied when you both were ambushed from behind. Now he keeps pace with you, never showing any signs or indication that your slower speed frustrated him. The start of the journey was a cruel leap from what you were accustomed to, but you soon found yourself adapting. You never allowed yourself to ask for anything, not even as your feet bled or how much your body screamed at you.

Today may be easier, but that didn’t stop your lungs from feeling like they were bursting. The Destined One let his arm fall. The path ahead was clear. You took a step forward and felt your foot catch on a tree root. The Young Sage reacted quickly, catching your arm. 

“I’m sorry, let me just-” your legs took this golden opportunity to buckle under you. The Destined One put his arm under yours, shouldering your weight. He led you to sit on the root as you settled your breathing.

“I’m fine, I just need to catch my breath,” you explained, clutching at your chest. The Destined One shrunk his staff, stowing it away. He knelt beside you. To your horror you realized he was offering his back. 

“Truly! I’m fine!” you cried out, flustered. The Destined One stood back up. This relieved you till you looked closer at him. You could read how utterly unconvinced he was the way his hand resting on his hip paired with his unblinking stare. 

“You’re already carrying enough, I can manage my own weight at the very least.” You readied yourself to stand back up. In response he held up a pinky. You stopped, staring at him skeptically. He stepped towards you, hooking it onto your outer robe. He barely moved his arm before your whole body was lifted from the ground. Message clearly packaged, delivered, and received. Ever and always so silent, he placed you down and offered you his back. This time, you obediently let him carry you, ignoring the feeling of satisfaction that came from him. 

The young monkey straightened up, making you instinctively move your hands from his shoulders to wrap around his neck. He quickly understood and angeled himself downwards before he started walking. 

Your mind went from the way your chest was pressed against his back to your faces being much too close, then to the way his hands gripped your legs to support your weight. You felt yourself warming up. You weren’t sure that it was from the heat of the day anymore. With you on his back the pace quickened to where he was almost doubling the distance covered. You shoved away the feeling of guilt which nestled into your stomach. You ignored whatever dance your heart was doing in your chest. 

~

Traveling with your silent companion had a difficult adjustment period. You appeared in this world with nothing but your clothing, which were shortly in tatters from your stumble into a Yaoguai’s territory. The Destined One fashioned you new clothing that could hold their own. He’d also lent you a staff, but your first attempt at wielding it had you either accidentally hitting yourself or dropping it. You thought you saw a humorous quirk of his lips when you had hit yourself on the head the third time, but that may have been the self-inflicted head injury. He had held out his hand and you wordlessly returned the staff. 

The journey was initially silent, but you eventually began filling the air with light chatter. You talked about anything on your mind on that particular day whether it be a memory, story, or particularly interesting item from your world. You weren’t sure if he was ever fully listening. He never made any indication for you to stop. In one instance you were interrupted by an archer who was shortly intercepted and disposed of. When he returned to your side he made a motion for you to continue your story about a movie you had once watched, a delight you tried to settle down. It became easier to read his subtle gestures and little facial expressions. Sometimes, you would react to him as if he were speaking aloud. You never made mention of how you knew as much as you did about him or his journey. That was the one topic you avoided. There was this strong instinct never to mention this world’s origins. It was akin to how one would avoid eating ominous mushrooms or lick questionable stains. 

With the knowledge you could share, you advised him when able. He eventually understood that telling him you’d be waiting for him at a shrine meant he was about to fight a rather powerful Yaoguai. He never questioned when you pointed out things he may have missed or the way you would let him know what sort of enemy to prepare for next. Whether he thought your instinct or intuition strong, he trusted your judgment.

At night, the Destined One would scout for a place to rest. On some lucky days he finds an abandoned home or building to stay in. On the cold nights where camp would be set outside, you’d sit closer to the fire. One morning you woke up to find your limbs wrapped around your companion. Your blanket twisted between the two of you. Your body had sought him out in the night. Even with you rousing from your stupor you found it unbearably difficult to separate from his warmth. Eventually, you did manage to unwind yourself. You had rolled over, pretending to continue to sleep for a bit longer before doing a very convincing rise and stretch. You avoided eye contact with him the first time you did this and your stories came sparingly. After the next few times you eventually realized that the days you woke up intertwined with him were the only days where he’d be the second to rise. You assumed he was graciously giving you time to leave without having to go through the embarrassed apologies you had prepared. For that you were grateful. In any case, neither of you brought it up. 

As time passed you were soon able to keep pace with the Destined One without relying on him having to carry you. The speed at which you were adapting to this world felt too quick to be natural, but you were working with too many unknowns to be sure. You thought of giving the staff another try, but your skills were just the same as when you’d started. Learned behavior did not count, unfortunately.

~

The day had been sweltering when you and your companion made camp near a spring. The Destined One had scouted the area with you before it was deemed safe to stay for the night. You were excited to be able to bathe in such a beautiful area, especially after such a hot day. You left the young monkey at the camp before going to the water. The flora around it kept you private from one another. You stripped off your clothes, letting them rest on some rocks in the light of the setting sun. You tested the water with one foot, it was refreshingly cool. You waded in till the water reached your waist, then held your breath and ducked below the surface. You emerged laughing, feeling the droplets fall from your hair. 

The water felt invigorating on your skin. You felt more than just the accumulated dirt and grime being washed off of you. You began washing your hair, trying to detangle any knots you found when you felt something squirming land on you from an overhanging tree branch. You cried out in surprise, quickly brushing off a curious little lizard. The lizard made its getaway just as the Destined One leapt into the spring, staff in hand. 

“It’s okay, a lizard just surprised me,” you explained with a small laugh, hands raised in reassurance. He looked down. You looked down. You quickly covered yourself in a panic, going lower into the water as he turned on his heel to head back in the direction of camp. You lowered your head till it was submerged again so that only the fish could hear your cries of embarrassment. You stayed longer than you wanted to in the spring until your face stopped burning and your hands began to wrinkle. Drying yourself off, you did whatever you could to shake off the mortification of what just happened. You dressed yourself, hesitating to return back to camp. What do you say to someone who just saw you naked? Do you apologize? Make a joke of it? Pretend it never happened? All were answers but none seemed correct on their own. You settled your breathing. You can go with E: All of the above.

Back at the camp you found the Destined One sitting cross legged, poking at the small fire he had made. His tail was swishing left to right, making the pattern of a fan in the dirt. You hesitated again, unsure on how to bring up what just happened. You weren’t sure how long you stood there for when the Young Sage suddenly inhaled sharply through his teeth, tossing the stick he was holding aside. He had let it burn down to a stub till the small fire reached his fingers. Seems you weren’t the only one lost in their own mind. You smiled, somehow relieved in knowing that. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, your tone light with humor. He turned to you, you saw him relax at seeing you smiling. You went next to him, then crouched down, holding out your hands. “Can I see?” 

He held out his hand, you took it between yours, looking closely for any sign of damage. His hand was large with dark nails well pointed and sharp. You felt you were brushing past his fingers with your own more than you needed to. Satisfied at seeing no wound, you let go. He held his hand there for a moment before retracting it. Wordlessly, you both stood up. You refuse to let any awkward silences stretch on, being the only one who can actually break them. 

“It’s your turn to use the spring,” you said, putting your arms behind you, “Watch out for lizards.” You mentally kicked yourself. The Destined One watched your expression for a moment, considering your warning. Then he gave a small nod and headed for the spring. You let out a held breath. This feeling will not be leaving you any time soon, but at the very least nothing’s changed as far as you can tell.

The next day, after untangling from the Destined One once again, the two of you continued onward as usual. Soon, the lush forests became bare sand as the two of you entered the next part of the journey. 

[areislol]

‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfox's devotion

pairings. m!kitsune x gn! reader

warnings. slight yandere tendecies, nothing too much, proof-read. set in ancient japan. kitsune wears a yishang despite it beingset in japan so don't mind that.

a/n. i love fox hybrids :') if there are any mistakes please let me know!

wordcount. 2.1k

the quiet forests of the yamashiro mountains were no place for a lone traveller, especially with the whispers of mischievous spirits haunting the winds. but you had no choice.

you were sent to retrieve herbs for your ailing grandmother, and the rarest ones only grew in the deep woods, where mortals dared not venture.

the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the dense trees as you carefully made your way along the narrow path. you’d heard the stories—how travelers would be lured off their paths by strange lights or laughing voices, never to be seen again.

kitsune were the most feared, ancient fox spirits with the power to trick even the wisest of sages.

but you didn’t believe in such tales… at least, not until you met him.

it started with laughter—soft, melodic, but undeniably playful. the moment you heard it, you stopped in your tracks, eyes darting around for the source. there was no one in sight, but you felt a presence, something watching you from the trees.

“h—hello?” you called out hesitantly, gripping your basket tighter.

more laughter, closer this time. the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and before you could react, a figure appeared before you. he seemed to materialize from the mist itself—standing tall, his molten silver hair cascading down his back in waves that seem to shimmer under the moonlight, as if alive with an ethereal glow.

his sharp, golden eyes, reminiscent of a predator, lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. every movement he makes is smooth, graceful, and effortless, as though he’s one with the very wind itself.

he’s draped in yishang, its silken fabric flowing around him in delicate layers. the garment, though traditional, carries a mysterious air, its texture almost too smooth, too fluid, as if it was woven from the very essence of the night.

even when the air is still, his robes sway gently, giving him an otherworldly presence, like a mirage that could vanish at any moment. and when he smiled, his sharp teeth gleamed in the fading sunlight.

but the most striking feature? the nine tails that swayed lazily behind him.

a kitsune.

“you seem lost, little human,” he purred, his voice as smooth as silk. his lips curled into a sly smile. “or perhaps… you’re just looking for a bit of company?”

your heart raced as you stepped back, your mind screaming at you to run, but something about his gaze rooted you to the spot. he was beautiful—dangerously so—and the playful tilt of his head as he regarded you made you feel like prey.

“i—i’m not lost,” you stammered, trying to sound braver than you felt. “i’m just gathering herbs.”

the kitsune’s eyes gleamed with amusement, and he took a step closer, his movements graceful and almost predatory. “ah, how noble of you,” he said, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “but these woods are no place for a delicate thing like you. it’s dangerous.”

“i’ll be fine,” you insisted, though your voice wavered. you tried to sidestep him, but he blocked your path effortlessly, his tails flicking with amusement.

“i can’t let you wander around like that,” he said, his smile widening as he leaned in, his voice a low, teasing whisper. “what if something happened to you? i’d feel terribly guilty.”

you frowned, trying to put some distance between you, but his presence seemed to fill the entire space, surrounding you. his scent—like wildflowers and something musky—invaded your senses, making it hard to think clearly.

“i don’t need your help,” you said firmly, taking another step back. “i’ll manage on my own.”

the kitsune’s expression darkened for just a moment, his eyes flashing dangerously before returning to their playful glint. “oh, but i insist,” he purred, circling you slowly. “i can’t leave such a lovely human alone in these woods, after all. it wouldn’t be right.”

without warning, he vanished in a puff of mist, reappearing behind you in the blink of an eye. you gasped, spinning around to face him, but his long fingers had already wrapped around your wrist, gentle but unyielding.

“let me go,” you demanded, trying to pull free, but his grip only tightened, his golden eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity.

“why would i ever do that?” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “you’ve captured my interest, human. i’ve been watching you for some time now.”

your heart pounded in your chest. “what do you mean?”

the kitsune’s lips curled into a smirk, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “i’ve seen you… in the village, tending to your family, always so kind, so sweet. you didn’t know, but i’ve been waiting for you. and now that i have you…” his grip on your wrist tightened slightly, just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“i’m not letting you go.”

you swallowed hard, feeling your pulse race under his touch. “i… i’m just a healer. there’s nothing special about me.”

the kitsune chuckled softly, his tails swaying behind him like flickering flames. “oh, but you are special. you see, humans are so fragile, so fleeting… and yet, you’ve managed to catch my attention.”

his words sent a chill down your spine. "i don’t belong to you,” you said firmly, though your voice trembled slightly.

the kitsune’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, the playful mask he wore slipped, revealing something far more dangerous beneath. "right."

you tried to pull away again, but he was faster, his arms wrapping around you in an almost crushing embrace, his nine tails curling around your body like chains. his face was inches from yours, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that left you breathless.

“you’ll see,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “i can give you everything. power, immortality, anything you desire… as long as you stay by my side.”

your heart pounded in your chest, your mind racing for a way out, but the more you struggled, the tighter his grip became. he wasn’t going to let you go.

“i don’t need power or immortality,” you said through gritted teeth, refusing to let him see your fear. “i just need to get the herbs and be on my way.”

the kitsune tilted his head, his smile returning, though it was far more sinister now. “you’ll learn to love me,” he said softly, his voice filled with dark promise. “i’ll make sure of it.”

before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips sfotly brushing the edge of his lips, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and for a moment, you felt yourself slipping into the depths of his obsession.

but you weren’t ready to give in. not yet.

with all the strength you could muster, you shoved him back, breaking the kiss and stumbling away from him, your chest heaving.

"wha—what do you think you're doing!?" you exclaimed, cheeks flustered. that was your first kiss!! and he just took it so casually!!

the kitsune stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before his smile returned.

“feisty,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with approval. “i like that.”

and with that, he vanished into the mist, his laughter echoing through the trees.

but you knew this wasn’t over.

it had been days since your encounter with the kitsune in the forest. though you managed to escape his immediate grasp, his presence lingered in every corner of your mind.

his laughter echoed in your thoughts, and you often felt his eyes watching, even when you were alone.

you tried to go about your daily life, but the eerie sensation never left you. every shadow, every rustle of leaves, felt like him—waiting, lurking, ready to reappear.

and, as you feared, he did.

you had returned to your village, thinking maybe being surrounded by people would keep him at bay. but even within the walls of your modest home, with your grandmother sleeping soundly in the next room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

the silence of the night was thick and oppressive, and the flickering light of the oil lamp seemed to dance in the windless air.

suddenly, you heard it—soft footsteps outside, impossibly light yet unmistakable. you froze, your heart pounding in your chest. it was him. you knew it.

“don’t,” you whispered to yourself, but your feet moved on their own, leading you to the door.

the moment you slid it open, the cool night air hit you, and there he stood—leaning against the entrance, his golden eyes glowing under the moonlight, the tips of his tails barely visible in the shadows.

“miss me?” he purred, his voice laced with amusement, though there was a hunger in his gaze that made your skin prickle.

“i told you to leave me alone,” you said, your voice more confident than you felt. “i don’t want anything to do with you.”

his smile faltered for a split second before returning, though now it held a dangerous edge. “you keep saying that, little one, but you don’t really mean it.” he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “i can feel it. i can feel how your heart races when i’m near.”

lord, did he have to say that outloud?

his presence was overwhelming—suffocating, like he was weaving a web around you with every movement, every word.

“Iive been patient,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. “but my patience is wearing thin. i’ve watched you every night, waiting… and now, i’m done waiting.”

you took a shaky step back, speaking up. “you don’t own me,” you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “i’m not yours...”

in an instant, his hand was against the wall beside your head, trapping you. his nine tails fanned out behind him, glowing faintly in the moonlight as if reacting to his emotions.

“oh, but you are,” he whispered, leaning in so close you could feel his breath against your skin. “you were mine the moment i laid eyes on you. and now, no matter what you say, i’m not letting you go.”

your heart raced, your mind spinning as his words sunk in. there was no reasoning with him, no escape from his obsession. he truly believed that you belonged to him.

turning your head away from him you shook your head, "absolutely not!! i will not be your prisoner!" you hissed, trying to ignore the flutter of fear and something far more dangerous creeping into your chest.

the kitsune chuckled softly, his fingers gently tilting your chin back toward him. “prisoner? no, no, no… i don’t want to trap you. i want to protect you. keep you safe from the world that doesn’t deserve you.”

his words, so tender yet possessive, made your stomach twist. he leaned in closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch deceptively gentle. “i’ll give you everything you need,” he whispered. “i’ll care for you in ways no human ever could.”

“and if I say no?” you asked, your voice barely more than a breath. you hated how weak you sounded, how difficult it was to stand your ground when he was so close, so overwhelming.

his golden eyes narrowed, his smile fading ever so softly. “you won’t say no.” his voice was soft, but the warning was clear.

before you could react, he pressed his lips to yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. his hands, now gently cupping your face, were trembling slightly—as if holding back some deeper, more dangerous impulse. his tails coiled around your body, binding you to him as if to remind you that there was no escape.

you tried to pull away, but the kiss deepened, his lips moving with an intensity that stole your breath. it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claim, a promise, a binding of your very soul to his.

when he finally pulled back, his breath ragged, his eyes glowed with triumph. “you feel it too, don’t you?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin. “that pull between us. you can’t deny it forever.”

you stared up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, torn between fear, confusion, and something far more dangerous—something that threatened to draw you in.

his touch, his words, his very presence, seemed to wrap around you like a spell.

this was bad.

without another word, he stepped back, the cool air filling the space between you once more. his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he vanished into the night, his form dissolving into mist, leaving you breathless and shaken.

he would return. he always would. after all, he had already decided—you were his, he was yours, and there was no escaping a fox’s devotion.

[ephemeral--dreams]

Making you cry during a fight (2) - Scaramouche, Yae, Kaeya

Okay guys here you go never ask me for anything ever again /j

(part 1)

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

Scaramouche

There's a sort of deep, instinctive fear that takes root inside the place where a heart would be, as he watches tears fall after a few too-harsh words. 

He's hurt you. He's been careless, he's been too difficult, too much - and it's going to drive you away. You're going to abandon him because of this incident, surely. Why would you stay with someone who makes you cry? 

It's… it's not a feeling he's dealt with for many years. The fear of being left. He has not allowed anyone to get close enough to him to have any concern over whether they're around or not. Scaramouche had learned his lesson about getting attached and having emotion, after all. He had spat out whatever  bitter words he pleased and felt nothing when he upset anyone he spoke to.

But those days are past, and while that's a good thing in many ways, right now it feels anything but. 

"I-"

"Sorry. I shouldn't be crying," the way you apologize as if you're the one in the wrong stabs right through him. You're the one crying, yet he is being wounded just as much. It's an awful thing, caring. "Just. Just give me a moment…"

Scaramouche hesitates. He's paralyzed, caught up in the idea that anything he does or says may make things worse. But what wins out is the idea of fixing it, fixing things before you give up on him—

"Stop it. You shouldn't be the one saying sorry here. I shouldn't have said that to you, alright? You should know better than to take everything I say so seriously, honestly, I-" he sighs, irritated with himself more than you, before pulling you into his embrace. You don't pull away. Good. Maybe he hasn't entirely fucked things up. "...I didn't mean it. Sorry."

Yae

Yae Miko is not the sort of person who yells during a fight. Or at any time, really. So that hadn't been at all what had happened during your little conflict. 

Rather, her words were pointed to hit where it hurt, an attempt to shut down whatever silly human nonsense you thought was worth causing a riot over. Problems came and went, and most weren't nearly as important as they may seem in the moment. Living many years had led her to this conclusion. She was a busy woman who had little interest in wasting her time arguing. 

...Calculating and perhaps dismissive she may be, but she isn't cold. Yae still very much has a heart, and it skips a beat when she realizes you're nowhere to be found at the usual time she would meet with you after finishing her shrine duties. Surely you weren't that upset over it all, right? 

No, you couldn't be still lingering on the issue hours later… 

Well, you could. Others were far more sensitive to these things, a fact she often forgot. Yae should know better. Isn't she used to highly emotional people, after all? At least your tantrums weren't going to practically destroy the nation…

She finds you at the foot of the mountain, sitting and idly staring into the distance. The tear tracks on your face are all too telling. 

Yae is not above realizing when she has done something wrong. Though she's also not one to openly apologize. She doesn't do much of anything openly. 

"You don't listen to me," you tell her. 

"Well, I'll try to listen more, then. Is that satisfactory?" She offers a hand to you. You wait a moment before taking it, allowing her to pull you up. "Just remember to consider my side of things as well. We can work on it… But let's not linger on this too long. Time is fleeting for mortals like you, hm?"

Kaeya

Kaeya is excellent at one thing - avoidance. In fact, he's been successfully avoiding you ever since your fight a couple of days ago. It's easier to simply wait until you've both cooled off. 

That's what he tells himself. It's certainly not  that the fight made him feel anxious. He's not running away from his problems, of course not.

(He's lying to himself. One wrong word and you'll leave. He knows that. It's bad enough that you had an argument, archons forbid he confronts you and it's the last straw.)

So Kaeya carefully stays out of your way, doesn't speak to you, doesn't let you catch sight of him. He'll have to deal with things eventually, he knows, but… Until then, he's content to keep things this way. Four days in you finally seek him out yourself, looking exhausted and absolutely miserable. 

"Can we- can we stop fighting? You're right, I'm wrong, all that-" He can only watch as you start breaking down in front of him, a cold, sinking feeling of guilt settling in. "...Just stop ignoring me, please?"

His life has been filled with bad decisions - it seems that he's made yet another, by avoiding you so long. Now Kaeya is faced with your tears as you practically beg for his attention. It's quite the opposite of what he intended. He reaches a careful hand to brush them away. "Shh, shh. No more, alright?"

You sniffle, looking up at him. "You're not mad at me?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. I never was. We can talk about it later, okay? Let me make you feel better."

[kaiijo]

A GATHERING OF CLOUDS — BLADE

content: fem! reader, angst, bittersweet/open ending, generally follows the clouds leave no trace mission but i’ve taken some liberties, spoilers for post-xianzhou arc, reader is one of the ten stonehearts and goes by ‘tourmaline’ notes: this story mission broke my heart 

You sigh as you read through the massive file your department head dumped on you. From what you’ve skimmed through, it seems that there’s a problem you’ll have to arbitrate on the planet of Venovia regarding the building of their Quantum Collider. The problem is simple, really, just a matter of the neighboring planet refusing to grant clearance for the collider — did this report really have to go on for over seventy pages?

You’re about to flip to the next page when there’s a knock at your door. “Come in,” you call, eyes darting across the text in front of you. 

“Well, you look like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” Topaz says as she walks in, sitting down in the chair in front of you. 

You snort, looking up at her. “No rest for the wicked, I suppose. Yan Shilou gave me this yesterday and said a resolution had to be proposed by the end of the week.”

“Three days away, then. Better get on it!”

“I would be working on it now if someone wasn’t distracting me in my office,” you say but your voice lacks any irritation. 

Topaz laughs a little, “What? You don’t want me to say bye before I head to Jarilo-VI?”

“Aeons, that’s right! I forgot!” You open up the bottom drawer of your desk and root around, finally feeling your fingers brush against what you’re looking for. You pull it out and hand her the box, wrapped in a cream-colored paper and secured with an orange ribbon. 

She opens the gift, finding a pair of dark gloves identical to the ones she usually wears, but you explain, “There’s lined inside. Belobog’s eternal freeze is nothing to joke about.”

“Wow!” She slides them onto her hands and says, “Thank you! They’re so soft inside!”

“It was my pleasure!” You smile at her and you two chat for a little before she gets up to leave. There’s a knock at your door before she can and you beckon the person to enter. 

Your assistant shuffles in, apologetically glancing between your mountain of paper and Topaz. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I can come back—”

“Don’t worry, I was just about to leave,” Topaz says and she wiggles her fingers at you as a goodbye, disappearing around the corner. 

“Mail’s come in.” He hands you a small stack of letters, keeping one in his hand. You motion at it in question and he says, “This one’s odd. There’s no return address or any indication where it came from.”

He leans over to give it to you and you slice it open with a dagger-shaped letter opener. Your assistant eyes it and says, “I always forget to tell you how cool that thing is. It’s so well-made!”

Your finger runs over the grooves of the handle. Even though the metal is cool, you swear you can still feel the warmth of the forge and of the hands who crafted it. You turn it over in your hand and finally manage to reply, “Thank you.” 

You know it sounds flat and strained so you instead busy yourself with the letter. There’s no visible ink when you slide it out of the envelope but as you unfold it, the words materialize into a message written in swift, decisive strokes. 

It has been a very long while, hasn’t it? I hear you’re going by Tourmaline now. It suits you, as does your high-ranking position in the Talent Motivation Department of the IPC — you always were a mediator. I know you have run off to the farthest corner of the universe to leave behind what has transpired. But in accordance with our old vow, I invite you once again roam our lands of past, drink in celebration and recount our great adventures.

You think your heart has stopped and your eyes examine the words over and over again. You forgot that your assistant is still in the room. He clears his throat hesitantly and asks, “Are you alright, ma’am?”

You suck in a deep breath and plaster a mask of smile on your face as you answer, “Yes, I am fine. You’re dismissed. And thank you for bringing in the mail.”

He casts you another worried look but says no more, nodding and exiting, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. You don’t realize how much you’re trembling until you pick up the note to read it one last time, the thin sheet shaking too. 

You scoff as your eyes fall on the final sentence and you scoff. As if vows meant anything to them. 

Your stomach churns and there’s a sting behind your eyes that you haven’t felt in years, yet you’re reaching for your phone and reserving a starskiff to the Xianzhou Luofu before you know it. 

“I believe that’s checkmate,” you said, grinning triumphantly as Jing Yuan froze, eyes darting across the board, trying to find a way out. 

“There’s always a way out,” he huffed, hand hovering over one piece, then another, then another.

You replied, “That’s not how chess works.”

He glowered at you and Jingliu sighed, standing behind Jing Yuan to gaze at the board. “You should have moved your knight here,” she said, pointing at a square. “Then you would have beaten her in three more moves and avoided the capture of the queen.”

Jing Yuan didn’t answer, still surveying the board. Dan Feng rolled his eyes at your friend’s fruitless determination. You laid back, delighting in the light mist of water that sprays from the surrounding waterfalls. You loved Scalegorge Waterscape — it was rare to find somewhere with so much nature in the Alliance. “Wait,” Jing Yuan said and you sighed dramatically. He continued, “What if—”

A low gravelly voice sounded behind you. “Give it up, Jing Yuan, she has bested you again.”

You tilted your head to the source of the voice and smiled again, big and wide, heat sparking through your body when he offered you that signature smirk. Baiheng dashed ahead of him, waving the large bag of food they had picked up. He sat down beside you, long lithe fingers reaching over to brush a stray piece of hair from your face.

“Miss?” You jolt awake with a tight feeling in your chest. Your starskiff driver is turned around in his seat and staring at you. “We’ve arrived.”

“Oh!” You scramble to give him his credits and you climb out, stepping onto the Xianzhou Luofu for the first time in seven centuries.

Central Starskiff Haven is as busy as you remember, bustling with passengers embarking and disembarking from various spacecrafts. Merchants hawk their wares loudly, tourists slowing down to peruse as residents quickly rush past. 

You weave in between the crowds, the familiar smells of berrypheasant skewers and songlotus cake making your mouth water. Despite your anxiety, your heart swells as the sights and sounds and smells around you. You begin to make your way towards the next starskiff terminal when you hear footsteps approaching rapidly from behind. You tense, steeling yourself when you feel a hand on your shoulder. A voice breathes out your name in disbelief and your own eyes widen at the familiar sound. You turn around. “Yukong.”

She stares at you, repeating your name once more. A tentative smile appears and she says, “It’s been a while.”

“It has. How have you been?”

“Well, all things considered.” She hesitates and says, “A lot has happened since you left.”

Your stomach churns with guilt and you force out an answer: “You know I had to get away. After everything that happened—”

“Yes, I know.” She cuts you off and you can hear the betrayal leaking into her otherwise stoic tone. She squares her shoulder and asks, “What are you doing back?”

“I…” You debate telling her the whole truth but, perhaps against your better judgment, you don’t. Instead, you say, “I need to meet with Jing Yuan.” It’s not a lie, technically, but Yukong knows you better and from the way her lips purse, you can tell she doesn’t believe you entirely. 

“The general is not at the Seat of Divine Foresight at the moment. He’s dealing with matters concerning a prisoner right now.”

“I see.”

Another silence. When Yukong breaks it, you expect her to inquire further but she says, “You don’t have your bow on you.”

It makes you smile slightly. “I do, just not so conspicuously now.” You gesture to an intricate band around your wrist. 

“I’m surprised. You never would have parted with it before.”

“Things change.” Your eyes flicker over her and you ask, “Do you remember when I gifted you your first bow?”

It makes her smile a little too. “Yes. It was far too big for me. Baiheng laughed and laughed that day. I still have it.”

“Really?”

“It’s at home, hanging on my wall.”

“I figured you would have disposed of it, given everything…”

She sighs, “I thought about it but I couldn’t part with it. No matter what has transpired over these many years we’ve been estranged, you are still my bow master.” You don’t get a chance to reply before Yukong says, “I have to return to the Palace of Astram.”

“I understand.” You tilt your head up and look at the clear blue sky. Perfect flying weather. You look back at her. “Perhaps we can catch up some other time.”

A pause, then she nods. “I would like that.” Turning on her heel, she moves to leave, but over her shoulder, Yukong says, “Until next time, master.” Then, she melts into the bustling crowd and disappears among them. 

With a heavy exhale, you decide to go to Scalegorge Waterscape. You board a starskiff and head for Scalegorge Waterscape. It’s not a long journey at all but it feels interminable. Your heart pounds against your ribcage when you land, the sand soft under your boots as you disembark.

You can see the looming columns in the distance and you push down your nerves as you walk towards them, passing by the statue of your old friend. As you approach, a young boy with a blond ponytail walks past with a group of Cloud Knights flanking a man. The boy eyes you suspiciously and he’s about to question you when the man in custody says, “I presume you’re a part of the reunion.”

You don’t answer, brushing past both swiftly and silently. You see Jing Yuan first, his eyes meeting yours resolutely. He calls your name, voice low. The three others turn to face you and your heart stops. 

Jingliu, wearing the same blindfold covering her eyes that she had when she escaped the Xianzhou. Dan Feng, or rather, his reincarnation, gazing at you with a spark of recognition in his eyes as he reaches into the fog of his mind for memories of you.

And him. Yingxing, though, you don’t think he’s going by that name anymore. No, he’s taken on a different moniker, one befitting of the life he now leads. Blade, a Stellaron Hunter, a weapon for the Slave of Destiny. 

You force your feet to move, dragging you forward until you stand between Dan Feng — or whatever name he goes by now — and Blade. Jingliu starts to move now, her steps precise, and she stops in the center of your circle. “And so,” she begins, “everyone is present. I never thought the High-Cloud Hexad would be able to gather again in the same place after hundreds of years.”

You watch her intently as she continues, recalling the promise you all made so many centuries ago. No matter what happened, you would all gather together and share a drink. You remember that day with too much clarity, how Baiheng grinned when she suggested it, bright and beaming like the sun. You remember clinking your cups together to toast the vow. Those days feel so distant, so unattainable now. 

“How sad that Scalegorge Waterscape remains empty while the world continues to turn. Some of us have been reborn,” — her eyes slide over to Dan Feng’s reincarnation — “while others have been denied death.” Her head pivots towards Blade, addressing him still when she says, “Some have become criminals.” 

Then, she faces you. “And others have never stopped running and lost their souls along the way.”

Your hands clench into fists and you bite your tongue to stop from retorting but you know all too well how the IPC is viewed by much of the galaxy. Maybe you hoped that you would be regarded as one of the good ones. Maybe it’s just been denial on your part. 

Regardless, Jingliu is as she has always been, her words as sharp and accurate as ever. Your fingers brush over the band around your wrist that contains your bow.

“There are also those,” she says, peering upwards, “who can no longer fulfill their promises. And in the end, our friendship is no more. Soon, I will be shackled and tried. This will be the last you see of me. This is why I sent out the invitations before departing, hoping that everyone would be gathered here for my final farewell.”

Then, she utters the words you have heard time and time again in your sleep, in dreams and nightmares that never seem to end. 

“Of six people, three must pay a price.”

She’s still speaking but her voice fades into the back of your mind as the sound of your blood roaring fills your ears. You feel cursed, sometimes, as a long-life species, doomed to live and remember and suffer. 

You almost think Baiheng’s fate was the kindest of them all, unburdened of guilt and heartache and memories. 

And just as soon as you all gather, Jingliu soon begins to dismiss you. She and Jing Yuan discuss where she will be detained and as they turn to leave, Blade interrupts. Coldly, he says, “Before you leave, you still owe me my due.”

It’s all too clear what he wants. Your stomach drops at his request and finally, you really look at the man who used to be the man you loved. One of his hands is gloved, the other wrapped in bandages. There’s a bandage around his thigh. Another twined at his bicep. 

Your heart cracks. How much pain and suffering has he endured? How long has he begged for death and an end, felt the slide of a sword or the bullet of a gun, just to regrow again and return to the same agonizing cycle?

When Jingliu refuses to draw her sword against him without provocation, Blade draws his, an ancient, broken sword you’ve seen countless times when it was brand-new. One that has been shattered and pieced back together over and over again, just as its wielder has been as well. 

You hear Jingliu’s dreamy voice float above the clanging of metal. “Their faces still linger before my eyes, like a bygone dream.” As they begin to duel, your head spins and memories you’ve buried deep down in the recesses of your heart and mind break through their confines and seep into your bones. 

Baiheng’s loud laugh, ringing up to the stars as you walked the streets of Aurum Alley. Jingliu poured you a cup of tea as you caught up at her home. Jing Yuan fell asleep against your shoulder as you all sat together on a sunny day. Dan Feng’s exasperated voice called for you to slow down. 

Jingliu continues: “I thought those joyful days would flow indefinitely before us — like a Xianzhou lifetime.” Blade lunges for her, the tip of his sword skimming close to her face, intentional in its avoidance. Instead, it slices her blindfold and it flutters into the wind. 

You entered Yingxing’s workshop in the Artisanship Commission. Swords, daggers, and other weaponry lay around the shop, some cooling in water, fresh from the forge; others hanging on the wall. You found him hunched over his workbench, scowling and grumbling. 

You crept with quiet steps to him, tapping his shoulder. Yingxing whirled around furiously, expression softening slightly when he saw you. “What are you doing here?” he asked. 

“You promised you’d meet up with me an hour ago and when you didn’t show, I figured you’d be here.” You tried to peer at his workbench, but he moved in front of you, broad shoulders blocking your view.

“What’re you working on?”

“Nothing.”

“You were just huffing and puffing, Yingxing. That doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“It’s nothing worth your time,” he replied, standing up to usher you to the door, but he didn’t anticipate your quick reflexes, and you skirted around him. 

On the workbench sat a small ring. It was gold, dented and misshapen, so different from Yingxing’s regular work. “Don’t—” he started as you reached for it, turning it over in your fingers. 

“Who’s this for?” you asked, stomach turning at the thought of it being for another. 

“Nobody.”

You plastered a smirk on your face to hide your simmering jealousy. “Is it for that pretty shopgirl who always gives you an extra berrypheasant skewer for free?”

“No,” he grumbled.

“What about the girl—”

“It’s for you,” he said. “For your birthday next week.” 

“Oh!” Your heart swelled and you bit back the grin that threatened to break out. “I’m sorry I ruined the surprise. It’s beautiful, Yingxing.”

“No, it’s not. Discard it. I will make you something better.”

You reeled back from him, cupping the (jewelry) protectively in your hands. “I love it! It’s already perfect!”

“It’s sloppy.”

You frown at him defiantly and slide it on your finger with ease. “It’s perfect.”

“In what way?”

“Because it came from you,” you said. “Because it’s thoughtful and kind and I love it, and I love you.” The minute the words left your mouth, your stomach dropped. It was out in the open now — the feelings you had been dancing around for months. Your unspoken pining finally made tangible with words.

He went still. “You love me?”

You laughed weakly, desperately fighting the anxiety clawing up your throat. “Isn’t it obvious?” When he didn’t reply, you began to say, “Forget I said anything”

“No,” he said. and then with one stride, he closed the gap between the two of you, lips crashing against yours.

Jingliu leaps into the air, sword aimed precisely and lethally. “Yet, dreams…” she says, “...will eventually fade — like clouds from the sky.”

You remembered when you had found out what Dan Feng and Yingxing had done, tampering with the Ambrosial Arbor and committing one of the most grievous of sins. You remembered how it felt like your heart had been ripped out when you heard of their fates, of Dan Feng’s forced reincarnation, Yingxing’s wicked immortality wrought by mara and his banishment. How you had sobbed and screamed and tore apart your shared home with Yingxing before your legs had given out and you sunk to the floor in despair and betrayal and hopelessness. 

You left the Xianzhou Alliance soon after, packed up in the middle of a cold, gray night and disappeared. You couldn’t stay, not in the home that reminded you of him or on the fleet that reminded you of them, of everything. You were adrift for a long time before Diamond found you. 

You watch as Jingliu drives her sword into Blade’s chest, the force sending him sprawling. She yanked it out of him, no blood spurting from the wound or flecking her blade. He lay there for minutes before jerking, eyes flying open and gasping for air. He sits up then stands quickly, and he says nothing further to her. 

As Dan Feng’s reincarnation goes to speak with Jingliu, then Blade, and Jing Yuan (Dan Heng, you hear Jing Yuan call him), you cautiously approach Blade. He’s looking out into the distance of Scalegorge Waterscape but he turns when you stand beside him. 

There’s no greeting, not that you expect one. He asks, “What do you go by now?”

“Tourmaline,” you answer. 

He just continues to stare at you. Then, Blade’s eyes flick down, settling on your neck. He points at the ring that you wear on a chain around your neck. “This,” he says. “What’s this?”

Your heart aches. He doesn’t remember. Of course, he doesn’t; the mara fragments his mind. You’re sure it’s familiar to him, which is why he’s asking, but like Dan Heng, he does not have all his memories from your former life. “You— Yingxing made it for me.”

“It’s ugly.”

You can’t help but scowl at him and there’s a sense of deja vu as you snap, “No, it’s not.” It’s perfect because it came from you. Because you crafted weapons and armor and things that were meant to be sharp and lethal; you were unused to making something meant for softness and love and you did so anyway for me. 

Blade doesn’t react. The breeze passing through rustles his long, dark hair. He’s as handsome as ever and you hate it. You hate this. You hate Jingliu for orchestrating this. You hate yourself for coming. And you hate him, this stranger who wears your beloved Yingxing’s face but will never be the man he once was. 

You don’t even realize that there are tears rolling down your cheeks until you feel hands, strong and calloused from years of work the owner of the appendage can only remember in fragments, cup your cheek. His thumbs wipe at your tears but when your eyes meet him, he freezes, eyes widening ever so slightly as if he can’t believe he’s doing it himself, a subconscious instinct driving him. A memory of what was. 

You expect him to withdraw swiftly but his hands are slow, fingers skimming your skin gently as if trying to savor the feeling and engrave it on their tips. They reach your chin, falling away. Blade’s arms hang at his sides and he’s still. 

Then, he turns away and begins his journey out of Scalegorge Waterscape. He casts one last long look at you over his shoulder, expression unreadable. Something swims in his crimson eyes that you can’t discern. You want to say it’s longing, maybe even something affectionate, but the man you loved is long gone. You can’t read this stranger. 

You blink and he’s vanished before your very eyes. It leaves you, Jing Yuan, and Dan Heng alone. Dan Heng says quietly to you, “You were the bow master of the Luofu.”

You offer him a sad smile. “I was.”

“Where are you going from here?” Jing Yuan asks.

“Back to Pier Point,” you respond softly. “I have matters to attend to for the IPC.”

“I see,” Jing Yuan says. “I would invite you to stay but I know it’s a selfish request.”

“Another time, General,” you say. “When I return again, we’ll meet up once more.” You address Dan Heng: “And you?”

“I’ll return to the Astral Express.”

“Ah,” you say wistfully, “a Trailblazer. It suits you.”

He gives you a nod and a small smile, and you say, “Goodbye, Jing Yuan. Goodbye, Dan Heng.”

You make your way back to the starskiff, still dutifully parked where you left it. As you climb inside, one last lingering memory drifts into your mind. 

“When I die,” Yingxing said as he held you close, curled around you protectively, “promise you won’t forget me?”

“Why are you talking about this, my love? Planning on dying anytime soon?”

“It is something to consider. I am not a long-life species. So promise me when I am gone, you won’t forget me.”

You gaze up at him, “As if I could ever forget about you.”

You massage your temples. This Quantum Collider nonsense is more of a headache than you anticipated. “Mail’s in!” Your assistant waves a stack of envelopes at you, placing them on your desk before taking his leave. 

You sift through the pile — bills, forms you had to sign, scam letters about an overdue warranty… 

You pick out one envelope in particular. It’s red among a sea of white and you slice it open with your letter opener. The note you pull out only has a few words on it: a time and a place. There is no sign-off or official signature. All that is at the bottom was the Xianzhou character for the word ‘blade.’ 

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

Cursed Warlords AU - Chapter 3 - Passing Out

You have been traveling constantly since you fought against those bandits. Your body has grown exhausted and you’re now running on fumes.

Macaque sat on the mortal’s shoulder with a huff. She was their current source of food and she was keeping them safe. There was in no way that he trusted either her or her ‘friend’ especially after she had grabbed his mate the way she did. However they didn’t really have much of a choice, so here they were sitting on her shoulders as she followed behind ‘Spirit’.

‘At least we’re going towards Flower Fruit Mountain,’ Macaque chirped to his mate who responded with a huff, his tail half wrapped around your neck to steady himself.

The path they were taking was getting them closer and closer to their home where they would be able to get help from their generals. Loyalty ran thick between their people, so all of them would do anything to help and support Wukong and Macaque when they learned about the curse. Macaque was sure about this.

“Oh that’s pretty,” You’re voice caught their attention as you’re attention was diverted from the road to look at some deep red roses growing from the ground.

Spirit stopped from up ahead and looked at the flowers before chuckling. You were gently touching the petals of the flower bush with a smile spread across your face. After a moment of admiring the roses you stood up and made your way to the monkey demoness. It was odd, why did you feel the need to stop for a single bush?

Macaque tilted his head and looked at his mate who had narrowed eyes as he glanced around. He must have thought the same thing, a human shouldn’t roam alone in the forest especially a forest full of monsters and demons.

“You are strange,” Spirit chuckled as she placed a hand on your back to get you to move forward.

“Not really, I just like looking at flowers. And plants, my mother used to grow flowers a lot of them too. She had this huge garden of flowers in the backyard,” You giggled as you spoke.

Macaque glanced at Wukong who scrunched his nose, why would someone grow a garden of flowers? Were they for medicines? Potions? He shook his head, as he gripped her shoulder slightly tighter as she jumped over a root. She was getting slower, he noticed. The thought annoyed him, she traveled faster than him and Wukong could alone but she was still so slow.

“We need to speed up. Those bandits are bound to try to find us soon enough,” Spirit grumbled as she continued on, her tail swaying gently behind her.

“I know, I know,” You grumbled a pout covering your lips before a yawn escaped.

Macaque’s ears shot up, BANDITS!? A low hiss left his lips as he let the information sink in. They were being followed by bandits, that changed things. That changed many things, it would be better to leave these two in order to protect themselves from the humans they weren’t going to be able to face right now.

‘Macaque, you heard them too right? We should leave before-,’ Wukong seized his chirping as a hand settled on his head with little scratches, a second hand scratching Macaque’s head too.

“Don’t worry Peaches and Plums. We got away from them before, they weren’t very smart bandits,” You giggled stumbling a little as you walked, your voice sounded slower as you kept moving forward.

Macaque processed the words but then soon ignored them in favor of the heavenly scratches that you were giving right behind his ears. He could hear Wukong start purring too having yet to snap out of whatever spell you seemed to settle over them. You were trying to reassure them, it was kind of… cute.

Wukong’s eyes snapped open as both him and Macaque stopped purring seemingly both have thought the same thing. They were letting a human woman give them head scratches!? Snapping his teeth at you, you pulled your hand away with a little laugh. Your smile was so warm as you continued to walk, with Spirit to who knows where.

Wukong let out a small growl, how dare a lowly human touch him. It did feel nice though. NO! He would not be fooled by some human woman! Humans were weak creatures who only existed to get in the way of his goals and for him to get rid of. He thought to himself but found himself staring at this strange woman. If not for the stupid curse he would have never thought twice about killing her.

Grumbling to himself for a second he realized that once again they had gotten slower. He huffed looking at him mate who also looked irritated about that fact. At this rate it might be faster to get to Flower Fruit Mountain by themselves. So much for using this human to get home faster.

Suddenly there was some fruit right in front of him, specifically peaches. Without hesitation he snatched the fruit to devour it only to hear the woman giggle. He looked at her with a glare, his face stuffed with peaches as she handed some plums to Macaque.

“Hurry up Reader, we need to keep moving,” Spirit called back, and for a moment you started moving faster only to slow down soon after as if you’d run out of energy.

Spirit turned to fully look at you a scowl crossing her face as she walked back to take your hand which you accepted graciously. Your foot snagged on a root and you nearly fell on your face causing both monkeys to screech. Spirit caught you easily.

“What in the world is wrong with you right now?” Spirit asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to pull you closer.

You didn’t explain that you were tired, all you did was giggle. Clearly embarrassed for nearly falling over you pushed yourself forward without another word. Spirit didn’t dare allow you to get too far away from her, more than likely afraid that you would fall again.

“Are you sure you're okay?" she asked certain that you weren't.

"I'm fine, perfectly- AHH!"

"Eek!!" the monkeys shouted as you fell flat on your face, the monkeys falling on the ground with you.

"Seriously? Reader?" Spirit groaned, walking up to you with an annoyed expression.

She leaned over you, before squatting down to look at you closer. She didn’t get a response, and you didn’t move. Frowning she picked up your hand and let it drop, which resulted in a low groan.

Beside you the two monkeys who had fallen onto the ground off of your shoulders jumped back up, each shaking the dirt off of them. Their tails swished behind them angrily as they let out tiny growls. The one you named Peaches jumped over to you, and hissed angrily.

“Reader, we don’t have time for… are you okay?” Spirit’s irritated tone was slowly turning to something more akin to actual worry as you tried to push yourself to stand up.

“I ran out of adrenaline,” You giggled, your words slightly slurring together as you pushed yourself up only to fall back down with a groan.

At this point you were pretty sure the only reason you were giggling so much was because it was the only way you could let your anxiety escape without bursting into tears. With a groan you tried to push yourself up, only to feel yourself get picked up off the ground rather effortlessly. You stared into Spirit's light grey white eyes with confusion when you realized she looked rather annoyed.

"What do you mean?" she didn't put you down and just held you in the air for the moment. Because she was about 6 ft tall, the action made you feel small.

Before you could answer you felt tiny claws on your pants as the two small monkeys climbed up your clothes rather quickly. They both had many words to say too, though you didn’t know the true meaning of the angry chirps that were quickly sounded. You didn’t Have time to even pet them to try and calm them down when Spirit growled.

“Hush you two. I am speaking with Reader,” her words were a low growl as she glared at the monkeys. Peaches did not like the tone she used at all, responding with his own cute growl.

Your vision was starting to blur, everything around you switching between clear images to an array of colors. Your head was also beginning to feel warm as you were set down on your feet. But just as the support on your arms was lifted you fell forward.

‘That… can’t be good,’ you thought as you fell into Spirit’s arms.

“Reader!” Spirit yelled as everything went black. Her voice didn’t sound annoyed this time… heh was she actually worried?

Spirit froze as she watched your eyes roll back and you fell. Wrapping her arms around you she realized you’d lost consciousness. Macaque and Wukong were confused almost immediately as you’re breathing seemed to increase before you fell and then slowed as soon as you were down.

Both of the monkeys had to hold on tightly as Spirit began to shake you trying to get you to wake up. This didn’t work even as she shook you for several minutes, there wasn’t a single moment when you opened your eyes.

*Chirp* *Chirp* Macaque chirped and pushed his head against yours to help wake you up, you couldn’t help them home if you weren’t awake. Seeing his mate’s actions, Wukong followed suit doing the same but you didn’t wake up at all.

*Snap*

Spirit immediately went ridged before scooping you into her arms as she spun to look at the source of the sound. The source of the sound, a large deer that bounded away as soon as she caught sight of them. A sigh of relief left her lips catching Wukong’s attention, she must not be very strong if she was all worried for some small twig.

Wukong felt his fur bristle at the thought, they needed to get back to their clan. They needed to rid themselves of this curse. Before they could do that they needed to get this damned woman to wake up.

“Come on Reader, let’s get you to the village,” Spirit muttered as she crouched down to adjust Reader so she was laying across her back.

Please give me your honest opinions! Have questions? My ask box is always open!

Credits

Masterpost

Part 4 - Boat Ride

[rea-grimm]

Weapon Luffy

You were one of the few masters aboard the Straw Pirates. You haven't found your right weapon yet. You really knew it would take some time.

For now, you fought with a makeshift battle staff. The weapon you had tattooed on your arm. The mark of a weapon that is meant for its master. You knew nothing more about your weapon, about your soul mate.

You didn't mind that though. You didn't need your weapon when you could rely on your friends. But that's just what you thought. Of course, you wanted a weapon, someone who was only for you. Who wouldn't want this?

Surely you knew that Zoro and even Sanji were not your weapons. These two were completely different weapons than what you had on your wrist. You had a hunch that it might be Luffy, but he mostly fought for himself. You never had the opportunity to check this domain.

After a while, you stopped trying and decided to let things go. Maybe you'll come across your weapon somewhere along the way…

You were on a new island, which consisted mostly of mountains with deep ravines and which was inhabited by rather unhinged people.

You originally went exploring in a much larger group, but very soon you and Luffy got separated from the others. Because Luffy smelled the meat and before you could stop him, he was running towards your nose. You had no choice but to follow him.

His nose led you to a small settlement of bridge dwellers. Unfortunately, you didn't stop him and he threw himself into their feast. This pissed them off and before you knew it Luffy was handcuffed with a sea prism stone.

But he could still change into a weapon. However, it was such a shock to his body that he couldn't fight at all. Unluckily for you, they also tied you up. Even with an ordinary rope, you still couldn't fight properly.

You were surrounded and trapped. They pointed their spears at you and kept you at distance. This is how they led you to the edge of a deep ravine. You looked down and your head would spin from that height.

This was supposed to be the end of you. You noticed that the ravine was not very wide. You were already making a plan in your head to save yourself.

The two of you stood on the edge of the abyss before they kicked you into it. As you fell, you tried to grab the rock, but to no avail. Luffy soon caught on to your plan and tried to save you too.

Luffy stretched under your arms as you hugged him and turned into a battle staff. You grabbed him and directed him so that he got stuck between the rocks.

You were afraid you wouldn't make it in time. Either the rock was breaking or Luffy simply slipped off. You really grabbed Luffy like a staff and stabbed him into a rock.

This finally worked and you stopped falling. Luffy seemed to have a firm hold there, so you could breathe a sigh of relief for a moment.

"Are you OK?" you asked him. A hand emerged from the staff at the wrist, pointing a thumb up. You were glad he was okay. You knew he had a hard root, but you were still worried.

After this, you somehow managed to get down and back to the ship. There you got Luffy out of his handcuffs and Chopper took care of your injuries.

Ever since you got on the ship though, Luffy has been stumped the entire time. As if his thoughts were somewhere else completely the whole time. And that almost never happened. Especially for a time like this.

“Hey Luffy, are you okay? ” you asked him worriedly.

“Y/N, what's the tattoo on your arms?” he asked you seriously. Besides, this was the first time he asked you about your sign.

“A battle staff,” you replied, showing him the tattoo on your arm. However, things have completely changed since you last saw him.

The last time you looked at him was before your tattoo. It was an ordinary seated battle staff. Now? Now it was something else entirely. Although it's true that when you clung to Luffy like a staff, you had this strange, uplifting feeling, as if you were complete with him.

You still had a battle staff on your wrist now, but it was wrapped around a whip. However, the most distinctive feature of it was the straw that was hung from one side. Luffy looked at your tattoo thoughtfully before a smile appeared on his face.

"That's my straw hat!" he rejoiced. Others who were nearby were also in shock. After all, you've been sailing with them for a while now and only now have you found out that the captain has been your weapon all along.

"That's not possible," Nami wondered, while Robin just chuckled knowingly, as if she'd suspected it all along.

“Shishishi,” Luffy laughed. The future king of all fights has found a master. Something like this had to be properly celebrated.

Luffy Masterlist

[silverskye13]

"In the deep dark woods

In the hermit lands

There lies an ancient fortress

Where the wary dare not go-ee-oh

Where the wary dare not go.

There the trees are tall

And the ice, it bites

See it's buried in the snow

Where the wary dare not go-ee-oh

Where the wary dare not go."

Scar adjusted his grip on the reigns as his sled continued on through the snow. For the last day of his trip, the ground started doing its best impression of a mountain glacier -- more ice than anything -- and while it made for better footing for the horse, his ride had gotten noticeably more uncomfortable over bumps and rocks. The ground just sounded harder here, and the myriad of jostles made him wince. Still, it was far safer than sledding down the river, which marked itself as a tempting makeshift road, winding through the valley. He could see runner tracks on it, something he was sure the locals found reassuring, maybe even integral to survival in the cold, dark winter. Scar wasn’t from here though, and the rivers he knew were temperamental and treacherous. One fall into frigid water was more than enough to end a life, and had ended several in the town he came from. So he watched the river warily and let his horse pick her way across the snow-laden banks. 

"Abandoned by

It's craftsman's hands 

And cursed by all that see it

Where the wary dare not go-ee-oh

Where the wary dare not go

The dungeon keeper

Sleeps deep inside

With the spirits he's devoured

Where the wary dare not go-ee-oh

Where the wary dare not go."

Scar’s sleigh hit a root, or some animal's bolthole or something, forcing a sudden, heavy lurch through the sleigh. He winced at the loud rattle of his supplies as they threatened to tumble out. Across his legs, Jellie let out a low, complaining rumble. The massive white and gray snow cat, currently doing the very important job of keeping his legs and feet warm, cracked an accusing green eye at him, as though it were his fault the ground was so bumpy.

Scar ruffled a hand through her fur placatingly. "Oh hush, you big 'ol lazy thing. You’ve done nothing but sleep all day, anyway.”

Jellie let out a loud harrumph, the white bloom of her breath freezing against her whiskers. Her eye closed again, and she didn’t make another sound.

"Lazy cat," Scar hummed affectionately, and ran his gloved hand across her fur again. He was tempted to take the glove off so he could feel the softness of her coat, but he resisted the urge. Scar has never known a cold like the cold in this part of the world. He knew winter, sure, everyone did, but there was something malicious and present in the way the cold worked here. It was the kind of cold that seeped into bones and rotted there, blueing and blackening the skin, almost sentient in its ferocity. Even lacking any wind save for the breeze of the running sleigh, the air here gnaws and tears like an animal, like peeling skin. Even the trees, blasted and twisted and tenacious, mark the winter wind's passing with the lean of their trunks. Evergreen needles bristled in undulating waves, sparsely broken by the dead, leafless limbs of deciduous trees. Here and there, trunks ruptured and scarred by the aftermath of freezing sap shattering them open stood like gravestones amidst their crowding kin. 

It’s the dark remains of leafed trees that Scar finds the most interesting. While seasons do happen here, he had always been told it was too cold in this part of the world for a proper summer. There was only a season where it rained and iced more than it snowed. The fact that leafed trees had even tried to claim these forests was a marvel, here where even the evergreens started dying off the further he went. It was a bitter reminder to him that some of the death from this winter wasn't all from brutal, natural cold. 

"In the deep dark woods

In the hermit lands

There lies an ancient fortress…" 

Scar hummed to himself quietly, craning his head back to watch the looming, dark shape rising against the sky. The Frozen Citadel glared down at him with toothy, icicle sneers that laced every dark window and balcony. Its great black towers splintered the sky like obsidian blades, and icy ribcages clutched the spine of the road to its entrance. Despite the terror and foreboding the Citadel instilled, Scar felt a thrill of excitement as it grew nearer. It was like standing in the shadow of the corpse of some ancient monster, unfathomably old, unapologetic in its claim to existence. Villages die. Frost melts. Bones turn to dust. The Frozen Citadel remains.

"And we're going to get inside it," Scar grinned, and the frigid air on his teeth made his jaw ache. 

Scar’s sleigh found the old cobbled road and glided across it, a flea scaling the trunk of a mastodon. The horse slowed its gait the farther up the road they went, casting nervous glances to the dead and dying vegetation around the Citadel. So close to the great structure, the trees looked more like ice sculptures than any living thing, and had probably died centuries ago, though the layers of ice built around them kept their silhouettes ever still. The world here was deafeningly quiet. All the small crawling, flying things of the forest didn’t dare stir, if they lived here at all. Even the wolves, haunting companions that had stalked Scar across the wilderness, had stopped their howling several hours ago. There was only the creaking of branches, the crackling of brittle snow, and the sleigh. Fanciful things came to him in the silence: the impression of a shout or an echo, the jibber of whispered voices, the refrains of old campfire songs. It was thrilling and strange to know the only thing making a sound around here was him. Haunting, oh, that was a good word. To admit it was haunting though, would be to admit he found it scary, and he couldn’t do that. Scar hadn’t admitted he was scared since he first read about the Citadel in his bedroom as a kid, hadn’t admitted he was scared when Jellie was still vicious and tried to bite his hands when he trained her, hadn’t admitted he was scared when he bought his sleigh and his horse and first struck out nearly three weeks ago. He would not admit he was scared now. 

The horse knickered nervously, ears pressing back, and finally hauled them up to the Citadel entrance -- or as close to the entrance as the horse would allow. The gaping, toothy, maw-like doorway yawned open in front of them, showing the glimmer of blue fire within. He tried to coax the horse forward, reasoning to it about warmth and shelter and food, but something about the mouth-like portal made it rear and whinny, and finally give the sleigh a heavy kick with its back hooves.

“Alright alright! You don’t have to be so angry about it, stupid thing!” Scar chastised it, though he wasn’t able to keep the grin from his face. He could make camp outside, that was fine. Or maybe he would just picket the horse out here and make his camp inside. Yes, he liked that idea a lot, actually. Then he and Jellie would be safe and warm as close to the treasure as he could get, and tomorrow, oh tomorrow, he would delve in. Scar rubbed his stiff hands together greedily, and cleared his throat.

“Alright Jellie, time to work!”

At the command, Jellie harrumphed one more time and got to her feet, shaking out her fur. The moment her weight was off of Scar’s legs, a cold chill darted its way up his spine. He wiggled his toes -- All still mobile and full of feeling! -- and pulled his legs over the side of the sleigh.

“Help me down, Jellie,” Scar hummed pleasantly, and the large cat hunkered down beside him, the soft handles of her cloth harness within his reach. In a practiced motion (that had really taken way too long to train in hindsight) Jellie pulled her owner out of the sleigh, supporting most of his weight on her back as she went. When he was secure on the ground, she trotted to the spot at the back of the cart where the smaller toboggan was hooked in place. She pulled it to him, patiently waited as he got situated inside, and waited even longer as he clasped her harness to its tethers with his clumsy mittens.

“Alright!” Scar crowed triumphantly when everything was in place and securely fastened. “Take us in Jellie!”

The great snow cat shook out her fur and started forward, only bristling a little as she stepped towards the shadow of the Citadel’s interior.

“Absolutely not!” a voice boomed suddenly, startling both cat and handler to a stop. “Are you stupid or what? Get-- get away from that door!"

Scar turned as best he could in his toboggan to look over his shoulder -- at the three horses and riders who seemed to have popped out of the snow. Two of them he noticed, with the startled clarity of someone who wasn’t used to being on the business end of a weapon, had bows and arrows trained in his direction.

Scar, for lack of anything else to do, smiled and raised his hands -- partly in greeting, but mostly to keep from being poked full of arrows. “Well hello there!”

[ok555ficideas]

LGBTQ+ community for the win 

You know them, you love them, you root for them. Our beloved players who have against all odds once made history with their college team by breaking the unbreakable Ravens had shocked everyone once again. 

Neil Josten and Andrew Minyard are well known for their rivalry. This season they started to play on the same team and fans knew that it could end in an entertaining disaster. Well, although entertaining, disaster is not something we would describe what happened during the finale between Denver Mountain Lions and Seattle Shadows. 

The finale ended six to five Shadows' favor with Minyard’s exceptional block of none other than Kevin Day’s attempt at the goal. 

The game was a show worth watching, but not as much as what happened after. Neil Josten had run straight to his team’s goalkeeper's arms and toppled him to the ground. The whole stadium went silent in worry that the rivalry was finally going to end in blood, but it soon erupted into cheers as the crowd realized that the pair wasn’t fighting, but rather kissing. 

After the game they refused to answer any questions about their relationship, but after some fans’ deep dives into their social media and public appearances we estimated that the rivalry was always just for show and the love birds had started dating back in college. 

Minyard and Josten are joining Jeremy Knox and Jean Moreau in our queer out couples of Exy and we wish them all the best. 

Joe Abbott for “Exy entertains”, 05.14.2014

Kevin Day does not support the gays 

It has been over half a year since we found out about Neil Josten and Andrew Minyard being a couple. They had faced a lot of hate, but the loyal fans had helped them every step of the way. They had received a lot of support from their current and former teammates as well.

But not everyone is as happy and supportive. Kevin Day, our beloved striker and queen of Exy has been spreading hate on his two former and if the rumors are true about Day switching teams to be on the Shadows next season, future teammates. 

“I think they should focus more on Exy and less on making out on the court.” The olympic gold medalist had said in an interview for the national sports channel. 

The sports world was not always very welcoming to queer people, but it has been going better throughout the years. Is it possible that all the hard work that the queer community has put into being treated seriously in this field will be torn apart by maybe just one, but very influential man? 

We hope not, but we shall see. 

Joe Abbott for “Exy entertains”, 01.17.2015

link

[pricegouge]

Bunny going for a hike again but this time there’s no Phillip to worry about and there’s also a lot of fucking branches snapping behind me, John. You’re not being very inconspicuous. There are other hikers on this trail and I don’t want to have to wash bear spray off of you!!!!

Ohhh he's my favorite when he's just being stupid 💛

Barest hint of primal play in this, but played more for laughs than anything else... Or is it 😳

The funniest part about the whole situation is that he very clearly thinks he's being slick. 

When John had learned your plans to go for a hike, he'd happily agreed it was a nice day to play outside and you'd assumed that meant he'd take a stroll of his own out into the park proper and busy himself with whatever it was bears did when not bugging their mates. You'd forgotten, however, that John's definition of 'playing outside' now included you more often than not.

"You are not being subtle." Neither are you, really. If someone were to pass by on the trail right now, they'd immediately clock you talking to yourself. You weren't too worried about looking odd, however, when not even thirty feet behind you, a monster of a grizzly was doing his best (terrible) impression of a mountain lion: stalking you from a distance like some sort of inept, overgrown ambush predator. 

He huffs, as if offended by the very idea that an SUV sized bear couldn't be stealthy. A crack like a gunshot illustrates your point as his next step lands him directly onto a thick fallen branch and his weight snaps it in half with ease.

Pretending he doesn't notice, John stalks even closer and you sigh as you turn back up the path. "You're gonna get maced again and I'll have no clue how to help you way out here." That finally gives him pause and you double down. "In fact, if we come up on anyone with bear spray, I'm crying to them for help." 

When you glance back at him, the bear's expression is more human than you've ever seen it, and the low grumble it emits sounds suspiciously like a distinctly English, 'You wouldn't.'

"New 'round here. Can't also be the idiot who didn't spot your fat ass following me," you point at him illustratively.

You decide you've been spending too much time with John in this form when you can easily interpret what he thinks about that just by the slight tightening of his eyes. 'I'll give you something to cry about,' he seems to say, and then the thundering of his footsteps as he takes off in your direction activates some deep rooted switch within you to propel you at top speed in the other direction.

It turns out you are not built right for the pursued by bear lifestyle, and you're breathless with both exertion and laughter when he catches up, headbutting you right in the middle of your back to send you sprawling across a thicket of ferns off the side of the path. You roll onto your back and attempt to glare at him, though you can feel how how ineffective it is given how sore your cheeks are from grinning.

John looks slightly less pleased, and you worry for a moment that running from him activated some instinct in him as well; but then he's leaning down to snuffle into you and you can't help scratching his big cute ears for a moment. 

They twitch under your fingers after a moment and he looks off to the left suddenly. You hear it too: the murmur of low conversation building as other hikers approach.

You push at John's great big chest. "You're gonna get us caught," you hiss, but he takes the time to wipe his big slobbery tongue across your whole face before crashing through the brush as he darts away. 

"Morni - oh. Are you okay?" Of course the approaching hikers are two of the most absurdly in shape granola looking men you've ever seen in your life. Of course. This is so embarrassing.

You force a smile as you turn back toward the newcomer. It feels nearly maniacal on your face - is, judging by the way they slink back half a step. "Oh, yeah, sure. Just, um. Slipped. Thank God for these nice soft ferns." You pat at them, as if in invitation to test the quality themselves. 

"Right. Uh, here," the taller of the two starts, "let me give you a hand." 

If you listen close, you can almost hear John's grumble of disapproval being carried to you on the breeze. "Oh, I'm quite content, thank you though!" 

The men frown. "You sure?" 

You're not, but with how nonchalant John's been all morning about being spotted, you don't want to test your luck getting manhandled by a tall drink of water right in front of him. "Yeppers!" You say, like an idiot. "Thanks again, have a good one!"

Shrugging at each other, the hikers wave once and carry on. You wait until they round the bend before flopping around enough to get your feet under yourself and when you stumble out of the copse, John's standing in the path ahead of you, chuffing after the interlopers agitatedly.

"Easy, big guy. You behave the rest of the day, I'll let you chase me down again later when no one's around," you wink.

The surprised look John gives you at that is markedly human, but the teeth he gently nips your shoulder with are much to big.

next>>

Feel free to send in requests for these two! I'll always have enjoy writing for them :)

[unanswered-stars]

The Ending of Darkness

Mithras x Sylvan

This little drabble is brought to you courtesy of the lovely @jules-writes-stories and her wonderful OCs from Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows that I have simply fallen in love with.

Read here on ao3 or below the cut

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

The plink, plink, plink, of water on stone rang loudly through the dark cavern. Stale air heavy with the stench of rot and fear coated the very walls. The smallest twinkle of jade peered from the shadows, the only spot of brightness in the small space.

Ragged breath passed through pale pink lips, the sound of hurt, loneliness, and desperation, a whisper in a windless world.

Memories danced between the spaces of nothing and darkness in the depths of the mountain.

Flashes of Auburn hair wrapped around long pale fingers. The faint scent of wood smoke, cinnamon, and pears tickled his nose. Warm arms wrapped tightly against his chest, drawing him closer to the peaceful sleeping fae beside him. Russet eyes swimming in so much love and affection he could have drowned in it.

The taste of salt on a tongue darting out to wet parched lips. A grime-covered hand swept away another tear before it joined the first, pressing against those jade eyes until stars danced behind closed lids.

The only feeling beyond his own skin was the stones of the floor below. No longer did a smile radiating joy and love warm the depths of his soul, instead the cold stones leached away any warmth and stole it away to places unknown till he was nothing more than a shivering mass of limbs.

A soft smile curving those perfect pink lips. Strong hands grasped in his own, guiding him through the Autumn woods. Gentle fingers against his jaw pushing their kiss deeper. A gentle melody floated on the winds as the prince hummed an ancient lullaby against his pointed ear long after he thought the darkling was sleeping.

Lithe fingers tangled in pale blonde hair, tearing from the root as though he could rip the memories away with his bare hands.

There was no returning from what he had done. No apology he could utter. No depth to which he could grovel would be a sufficient covering for his sins.

Should he ever be blessed by the presence of those beloved russet eyes they would hold nothing but hatred and sadness for what he had broken.

For he had broken a precious thing. A sacred thing. The only good thing that had ever happened to him in the entirety of his long life and he had broken it.

He did as he had always done. He lied.

“I do not love you. I could never love you.”

He had broken the only pure and lovely thing that willing wandered into his darkness and accepted him for what it was. Something he was undeserving and unworthy of in every way and yet he had been given it all and more only to turn and run away from the only one who had ever truly loved him.

So there he sat, alone, in the dark, broken for centuries untold. Until his body became one with the mountain once more and his soul was swept away beyond the edges of the world.

There was no moment of silence or great pause, life kept on, unchanging, as the soul raced the stars across the night sky.

But somewhere, deep in the forest of Autumn, a gentle voice filled with pain, sadness, and longing sang a lullaby long forgotten.

The winds of the world swept up the quiet song, flying alongside the soul between the stars as the rays of the sun made their way into the sky. And at last, Mithras could rest.

Characters by @jules-writes-stories

Drabble, moodboard, and all quotes within moodboard are from yours truly

[adreamof-spring]

Character: Feyre Warnings: None Short drabble for @feyreweekofficial Day 6: Warrior/Jack of All Trades Sometimes the woods whisper a sweet reminder of the power Feyre holds.

The forests outside of Velaris were old, far older than the city itself. It was a wide open maw of wood and fern, ancient and thick as the roots of the mountains that rose high above.

Feyre reveled in the familiarity she found here. Her feet would carry her to the outskirts of the city, and from there she would meander through the gates, threading through underbrush as the woods swallowed her whole.

Out here she could shed the mantle of her title, for the forest didn’t know her as the High Lady of the Night Court, nor did it know her as mother or mate.

But the forest did know her.

The magic here was potent—raw. As if Prythian’s deep well of life surged up and out from the soil beneath her feet, a living, breathing thing.

Feyre could feel that power curl around her, cling to her lithe frame as if it delighted in her presence. It would wind through her hair like fine fingers of silk, kissing the freckled curve of her cheek in warm welcome.

And her own magic would answer, rising as if plucked from the string of a harp.

Feyre breathed deep and pulled the boots and socks from her feet. Warm, sun-dappled grass brushed against her skin.

“Hello,” she whispered a small greeting, running a hand along the bark of a tree.

A shiver stole down her spine, coaxed by a pulse of magic that nipped at her skin. Her mouth quirked up. It was playful, curious...hungry, too. Not entirely unlike her husband dear.

Distantly, Feyre could remember a time when the woods had been anything but kind. Cold, jagged trees, a frost that ran deep. Death had awaited her in the bramble and brush, licking at the edges of her frail, mortal skin.

Her body had been so young and broken then, ravaged by the cruel hands of an endless hunger.

That place and time was now so distant that it felt like no more than a lost whisper of life.

Her skin was now flush with an immortal glow, and her heart thundered with a vitality she had never known.

Feyre Cursebreaker had been reborn, body and mind.

Magic—pulsing, vibrant magic coursed through her veins, feeling so very much like an extension of herself. She knew it would take little more than a curl of a finger for that power to do as she bid.

And it was that sense of control, the confidence in her own abilities that set the hard line of her shoulders, that filled her lungs with a sense of purpose. She could feel it, that great and terrible well of power at the core of her, sliding through her veins, lapping at her skin.

It was the power to change her destiny, to shift it as she might shift the wings at her back.

This forest was kindle to that power, and with each breath she could feel the elements crackling at her fingertips, howling to breach the outside world. It was a song of exultation, a symphony that played to the mastery of her gifts.

Feyre would never be cowed again, never be confined or set aside.

She’d found her home, her people, her life.

And each day she glowed at the miracle of it all, the sense of purpose.

Where once doubt had twined its vicious roots, confidence and clarity now surged.

Gone was the human with hunger in heart.

She was the ever-sharp blade of the warrior. The deft hand of justice. The scepter of the High.

Feyre was the child of all seven courts, their power now flowing through her veins.

She was one and all.

First of her kind.

Her hands rose, and that magic with it, Prythian answering her call.

[hana-bobo-finch]

settle down everyone, it is time for Hana to ramble about her silly stuff

SHOCKINGLY I am not yapping about a character this time but a place. The Briar Zome (as seen (poorly) drawn above)

SO!!! Going to try to explain this as simply as possible because even I don’t remember everything about it

It’s a pocket dimension of sorts. For the sake of simplicity let’s call it B while the “normal” dimension is called A. It’s unknown how B is actually accessed. Every Friday the 13th (hence why I’m posting abt this today, yippee) a Very Definitely Not Suspicious Guy who runs an illegal restaurant at the top of a mountain (story for another day. Or for never at all) serves his “special coffee” which he heavily persuades if not forces people (by people I mean really his only 2 or 3 regular customers) to drink. Shortly after you drink it, you black out and end up in the briar zome with no memory of what happened in between drinking the coffee and waking up. The “special coffee” also leaves you with a horrible illness the next day. While other similar pocket dimensions have been accessed by studying the environment of the Briar Zome, think of those as dimension “C”, it still remains a mystery how to actually get to B. It’s equally a mystery as to how you leave—you leave just as suddenly as you arrive, you blink and suddenly you’re back in the “normal” world, “dimension A”.

Time works differently there, as to be expected. Usually experiences in the briar zome last anywhere from a day to a week, but in dimension A no time passes at all (e.g. you could find yourself there, spend 3 days there, but when you go back to the “normal” dimension, no time passed at all). I could get into the numerous time and dimensional theories but um. I won’t. That will bore you all to tears I think

It’s a consistently cold environment with snow and ice caking everything, yet plant growth is rampant, especially rose bushes and brambles, hence the briar part of the name. There are multiple patches of thick thorns, making some areas hard to traverse. Between different “visits”, if you could call them that, to the Briar Zome, the general layout changes slightly. To put it in pikmin terms, it’s like the caves in pikmin 2 but less drastic. There are also long stretches of water and rivulets that are, of course, frozen over, but the ice is generally very thin. Although it’s snowy and icy, the temperature seems to be bizarrely non-existent. It’s not cold, it’s not warm, it’s not in between, it simply does not exist. The atmosphere is rather thin, but still breathable. Everything in the briar zome is slightly off in a way. Think like the feeling you get when you’re struggling to remember something that’s on the tip of your tongue. It’s also just generally quite unpredictable. Anything could happen, really. The landscape is never ending. If there is an end to it, nobody’s seen it. It seems to go on forever. Same with the snow—you could dig in it all you want, but it’s infinite. The ground has never been seen there.

In one specific area, known as the Eye Rink, there are, as seen in my quick drawing of it, sentient eyes!!! Their nerves take root at the bottom of the water and rise up above the ice. They’re incredibly long, as the lakes and rivers can get quite deep. Surprisingly they’re almost rather doglike in behavior. They just want to be your friend :) they’ll hug you with their big ol’ eye stalks. Very tightly. To the point you might break a bone. But they’re just big sweethearts.

There’s nobody else there but the people who were mysteriously transported there. People tend to end up there in groups—if two people drink the “special coffee,” they’ll go there together. And they’ll be, aside from each other, completely alone. Wildlife is also sparse but there are a few creatures here and there. Some rabbits, deer, and foxes. Most injuries sustained in the Briar Zome seem to not follow you into the “real” world once you awaken, but nobody’s had the guts to see what would happen if you were to die there. You’d most likely end up dead in the real world, too.

There’s a special form of writing there. A code of sorts, I suppose. It’s written via drawings of phases of the moon and types of plants. This is a TOTALLY fleshed out idea, I definitely didn’t think of it like 6 hours ago. But it, in its beta form, looks like this:

good luck translating it, because I can barely read it myself, and I probably wrote it wrong!

There is probably more to it that I’m forgetting because I made the briar zome in like. What, December of last year? And it isn’t a huge part of my silly goofy story stuff so I don’t think about it very often. But. Yeah

[alottanothing]

Keep Playing [part one]

Summary: September 1978, Eddie Munson wakes to the sound of arguing. With his father out of the picture, his mother Betty choses to leave her son with the only man who ever cared him.

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Language, mentions of abuse

Tag List: @itswormtrain (please let me know if you would like added to this list)

A/N: Hello friends! I'm back to writing, and this time it's for a completely different fandom. This series is a labor of love between me and @itswormtrain. In fact, our friendship blossomed because of Eddie Munson, and now we are both so deep in this, that we're tying it into other fandoms that have no business being related lol. This is our world that has been bringing us lots of joy for almost two years and now we finally get to begin the journey of sharing it. This is just a taste of LOTS that we have brainstormed and planned for a very long time. I'm hoping to keep updates fairly regular, too, as I have a lot already written that just needs some editing.

On the anneversary of Eddie Munson coming into our lives, we hope you enjoy this first part of many into our own canon.

~September 1978~

That night, he dreamt of The Shire, and it made him happy.

Whenever he found himself drifting languidly through that picturesque world, rife with smiling faces and togetherness, Eddie Munson felt free. He dreamt of endless cerulean skies reaching to kiss the lush green hills and the spiked peaks of mountains lining the horizon. There, with the halfling folk, Middle Earth was a peaceful place. A safe place. A place tucked away and out of sight of the searing eyes of the Dark Lord. A place where a kindly uncle raised his nephew.

Often, Eddie wished he could venture past the words printed onto the pages of the books he could only ever read in the Hawkins Public Library. Just like he wished he could be a hero in a far-off realm, Eddie wished he could bring his favorite books home, but the ladies there never let him have one of the fancy cards. The keepers always told him they were out.

He never minded really; Eddie liked the library. It was safe like The Shire. And while it wasn’t lush and green or full of magical wonder, it was quiet, peaceful; and for the most part, all the people there were nice to him. At least nicer than what he had at home.

Books and dreams were the best way to escape the walls he had no choice but to call home. So he did all he could to surround himself with books; even if that meant walking all the way into town and to the library.

The Oakes was a cluster of run-down apartments located on the outskirts of the city: a nesting ground for Hawkins lowlives, and the place Eddie called home. It was an unkept and out-of-the-way haven where unsavory things could be left to rot in peace; the walls were crumbling and most of the windows were broken or boarded up. Every sound crept through the thin walls, from the chittering of pests to the shouting of others next door. Most anyone would look at the derelict structure and pity anyone unfortunate enough to call such an unforgiving environment home. But for Eddie, it was all he truly knew. So, as he lay on his secondhand mattress, covered with a single blanket — rife with various burn holes from cigarettes and other paraphernalia — to stave off the morning chill, Eddie couldn’t help but be content as he dreamt of a land better than the one in which he dwelled.

*

It was early when he heard his mother’s voice outside his door—his room only slightly larger than a closet. Her words were low, marked with an edge Eddie knew too well. She was frustrated, though, seemingly not at him for once. He didn't recognize the man's voice that came after his mother's, though it did seem to be the root of her irritation. His voice was deep and resonant, carrying an air of authority that demanded attention. It was confident, yet there was a hint of cruelty that grated on Eddie's nerves the longer he listened to the man speak.

Strangers were a familiar occurrence after Eddie’s dad got arrested. Every one of them had been men, and none of them were ever friendly. Ever since Walter Munson was carted off to prison for the multitude of crimes he'd committed over the years, there had been a revolving door of men in their apartment. The visitors came and went, mostly at night, and never stayed long enough for Eddie to learn any of their names, most of the men ignored him, just like his dad had always done, others weren’t as polite. Rough hands and cigarette burns were never something anyone could get used to, though Eddie tried.

The truth of it was, Walt wasn’t much better than those strangers who ignored him or burned his arms with cigarettes. Anything those men did, Eddie’s father had done it first. Sometimes, the only memory Eddie had of his father was the pain. When Walt went to prison, Eddie could only mourn the idea of a father: a man whom he could look up to and rely on. Someone who taught him how to fish or play ball. Walt did none of those, however, but did leave him with the skills to hot wire and pick locks: skills of a criminal.

Eddie didn’t want to be a criminal; he wanted to be like the heroes in the books he read.

The continuous arguing between his mother and the man on the other side of his door created a subtle hum that wasn't quite strong enough to break Eddie's grip on his dream. That was until the creaking of his door echoed through his small room, shaking him as he desperately clung to sleep. Tendrils of reality were quick to bleed into the illusory green of The Shire, pushing him closer to consciousness. For a few moments, he found himself caught between the realms of dreams and reality; gradually the real world seeped into the vibrant landscape of his mind. The idyllic meadows and rolling hills began to lose their luster, the colors faded and the magic waned. The sounds of song birds and the rustling leaves were replaced entirely by the harsh sound of his mother's voice, growing louder and more irritated with each passing moment. 

“I am not taking the boy, Betty.” The stranger’s tone was stern, cruel to a degree.

Eddie kept his eyes squeezed shut, begging for the gentle Tolkien landscape to remain.

“I know,” his mother said, and even with his eyes closed he could hear the grit of her teeth. “We’ll take him to his uncle's.”

“Good, now hurry up. I’m not waiting all morning.”

The remaining fragments of Eddie's dream finally shattered when a hand  shook him free of it's peaceful imagery, with a touch that was slightly more forceful than necessary.

“Edward, get up now,” his mother forced a pillowcase into his hands as he sat up. “Put your things in there: clothes, toothbrush—whatever. Just hurry, and do not make me tell you twice.”

Eddie blinked, the light spilling into his room making his vision worse as he rubbed the crust from the corners of his eyes.

“Where are we going?”, he asked with a yawn.

“You are going to stay with your uncle for a while.”

“Uncle Wayne?!"

His mother balled her fists, jaw growing tight as she took a heavy breath through her nose.

“Edward, I swear to God—I don’t have time for this. Pack your shit, or so help me, I won’t take you to Wayne’s. I will leave you here. Is that what you want?”

“No...” Eddie cowered.

“Then do as I say.”

He nodded and began stuffing things into the pillowcase without saying another word.

Despite his mother’s sharp tongue, once she left him to pack, a small grin worked its way across his face from the notion of going to spend time with his uncle.

Months had passed since the last time Eddie saw his Uncle Wayne. Driving trucks cross country kept him away for weeks and months at a time, and Eddie always missed him. Still, he always looked forward to the days his uncle was back in town.

Wayne was always kind, and patient—he never yelled or threatened him. Never burned him or raised a hand to him. Wayne always made sure he ate three whole times a day, which was more than he ever ate when he was home. Eddie found great relief in the thought of spending a few days at his uncle's place. It would provide a much-needed respite from his mother's constant scolding. The walls of their small apartment always seemed to amplify her voice, making every word feel like an arrow piercing directly through his heart, likely aided by the lack of artwork or much furniture. No matter what he did, or how much he tried to be good, he was faced with a never-ending symphony of disappointment and frustration that echoed through his mind, leaving Eddie feeling defeated and trapped.

He did his best not to dwell on any of the words she said, but it was never long before more were hurled his way.

But now, the prospect of escaping to his uncle's was like venturing back to his dream, back to The Shire. Wayne's trailer was a sanctuary he seldom had the opportunity to seek. Eddie wasn't going to squander his visit, no matter how short his visit would be, even if it was just for the afternoon. All he wanted to do was fill his mind with thoughts of all the fun he and his uncle would have, just like Frodo and Bilbo.

With little more than a change of clothes tucked into the pillowcase he’d been given, Eddie’s mom grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him out of the apartment complex before ushering him into the back seat of the strange man’s car.

Immediately, Eddie's nostrils were overwhelmed by the pungent smell of cigarettes, the offensive aroma stubbornly clinging to the orange, stain-adorned, velvet upholstery, as though the scent had become the very fibers themselves. The whole back seat had clearly seen better days. What was once surely soft and plush to the touch, now felt rough and coarse under Eddie's hands. All the dubious marks—a mishmash of stains, smudges, tears, and the ever-familiar circular burns—seemed to have a story of their own. The combination of those marks created an unsightly mosaic that fostered a sense of unease in the pit of Eddie's stomach.  A song played on the radio that he didn't recognize, the juxtaposition of the upbeat melody and the increasing tension in the vehicle causing his head to swim. The odor faded after a couple of minutes, and the stains were easy to ignore, but the song remained. Eddie did his best to listen to every word, with the hope of drowning out the harsh whispers happening in the front seat.

The man at the wheel exuded an aura that stood diametrically opposed to the serene radiance of the morning sun streaming through the car windows, which coupled sourly with the rest of Eddie's overwhelmed senses. The piercing gaze of the man's deep-set eyes reflected in the rearview mirror seemed to accuse him of some wrongdoing, though Eddie had never met the man before that morning.

As he attempted with the stain on the seat next to him, Eddie did his best to ignore the stranger's scrutiny. Every racing thought in his head, he began to fill with memories of his uncle and the fun they always had. Little by little his frayed nerves calmed, and his focus drifted to the world outside his window, watching the familiar sights of Hawkins pass by. All of it was gilded, at least in his mind, drenched in the golden light of morning that evoked a sense of majesty. There was little greenery to be seen, no mountains sprawling across the horizon or centuries-old trees stretching into the blue heavens. Nevertheless, the scenery outside the car window reminded Eddie of The Shire, and he found the corners of his mouth drawing into a small smile.

Before long, the urban landscape of brick buildings in the downtown transformed into lush—though not magical—woods, charming farmhouses, and vast fields of beans and corn until finally Forrest Hills Trailer Park emerged on the horizon. Abruptly, the car came to a halt, the brakes  crying out loud enough to startle birds perched in the nearby trees and the motion enough to toss Eddie forward in his seat.

“Get him out!” The man barked. “Be quick.”

“Alright! Jesus.” Betty barked back.

His mother’s hands weren’t gentle when she tugged him out of the rear seat, across the gravel, and up to his uncle’s door. Eddie barely managed to grab his pillowcase of belongings. He winced with each step, his heart pounding in his chest as he did his best to keep up with his mother's brisk pace. The lack of tenderness in her touch mirrored the coldness in her eyes, a look unbefitting of such a beautiful, warm morning.

As they finally reached his uncle's doorstep, his mother released him from her grip, but the forceful tug had left him off-balance. Eddie stumbled forward, barely managing to keep his footing as his pillowcase slipped from his grasp. Panic surged through him as he watched his belongings spill onto the ground, his few possessions scattered and vulnerable.

Quickly, he dropped to his knees, doing everything to keep his hands from shaking as he scrambled to gather every item he'd dropped, feeling his mother's eyes boring into him. She offered no assistance or sympathy, she simply watched him with an air of irritation and disappointment before turning back to his uncle's door.

“Wayne, It’s Betty!” Her fist beat against the door as she spoke. “Open the door!”

“Just leave the brat!” The man in the car shouted from his open window, his biting tone causing Eddie to step closer to his mother out of fear. The lesser of two evils…

“No!” she shouted back.

Eddie watched, keeping himself as small as possible, eyes teetering between his mother and the angry man in the car. He just wanted to be with his uncle, the one adult in his life who had never raised his voice or handled him with any sort of ill-will. He wanted to feel safe.

“I know where the key is,” Eddie offered quietly, wanting the screaming to end.

Thankfully, his mother heard him and immediately stopped pounding her fist on the door.

“What?” She almost looked mad, and Eddie’s focus fell on his ratty tennis shoes, afraid to look her in the eye.

“I know where the key is,” he repeated, softly. “Uncle Wayne showed me.”

“Then get it,” she snapped, more frustration souring her expression.

Eddie bounded off the short stoop, easily finding the spare key hidden at the juncture of the steps and the side of the trailer. He gently pulled at the loose piece of siding and the silver key fell into his palm.

When he offered it to his mother, he did so with a small smile—proud he’d remembered the secret place and that he could help his mother—but she snatched it from his hand without a single word of praise or thanks causing Eddie’s expression to fall. She seemed angry that Eddie knew of the key’s existence at all...

Without a word, she let them in, pulling Eddie by the arm again until he was left standing alone in the middle of the living room, while she stalked through the trailer, shouting for Wayne.

“Shit,” she huffed, coming back into the room, annoyed not having found him.

Outside, the man in the car was laying on the horn, shouting just as loudly. With each baleful blare, Eddie cowered into himself, wishing the man would just leave.

“Jesus Christ.” His mother shook her head, peering out the window before turning to Eddie and sighing.

“You give this to your uncle whenever he gets back, okay?”

Eddie nodded, shoving the envelope she passed him into the pillowcase that contained his meager possessions. The envelope felt heavy in his hands, though he could feel it was just a sheet or two of paper. How could it feel as heavy as it did? When he raised his gaze to ask what she'd written, his mother was gone, leaving the screen door bouncing against the doorway.

Confusion washed over Eddie as he stood there, clutching the pillowcase tightly. His mother's sudden disappearance left him feeling a mix of emotions, mostly, he'd expected her to offer some form of goodbye before embarking on an uncertain journey with the strange man. When should he expect her back? How long would he be staying with his uncle? He'd never know, as he watched the car peel out of the gravel, his mother never once looking back.

The entire morning had been a series of strange occurrences, leaving without saying exactly how long he’d be with his uncle seemed the strangest of all. For whatever reason, his mother never liked having his uncle around, never liked when he’d visit or when Eddie went to stay with him. She always wanted him back as soon as possible. His mother never left him at Wayne's without telling him when she would be back. Even so, he was determined not to waste a single moment he had with his uncle.

Wayne was the only pillar of strength and reliability in Eddie's life; they'd shared a special bond going as far back as he could remember. The longer he stood there, wondering why his mother left so abruptly, the more Eddie realized he didn't care so much.

For a moment Eddie contemplated reading the note he’d shoved into the rucksack of a pillowcase, wondering if he’d find any answers inside. However, the longer he lingered in the silence of his uncle's home, the less Eddie cared about the note. Wayne would be home soon, and the strange man was gone, two facts that settled warmly over him. He felt safe at last.

With a sigh, his eyes took in the familiar sights of his uncle’s home, finding that little had changed since his last visit. Aside from a few new mugs and hats hanging on the walls—souvenirs from all his treks across the country—everything remained exactly as Eddie remembered it. Even the dishes in the sink seemed the same ones, untouched since he was last there, a couple months prior.

Strangely, those few plates and forks left forgotten in the sink induced an abrupt sense of dread. His mother had scolded him countless times for leaving a single dish unwashed amidst the filth that engulfed the entire apartment. The contrast between the untidiness of their home and her berating to clean a few dishes always left him wondering if his mother found pleasure in treating him the way she did. Why could he not leave a dish in the sink when she refused to clean at all?

The sudden flood of memories forced the onslaught of dread deeper. Uncle Wayne never yelled at him, still, the persistent echoes of his mother's screams in his mind caused him to abandon his belongings by the sofa and promptly attend to the dishes, striving to silence the relentless barrage of hurtful words in his head, and prevent new ones once his uncle returned home.

With the two bowls, a plate, and several pieces of flatware left to dry in the rack on the counter, Eddie relaxed a little, looking around to see what else needed to be done. His uncle’s place was far cleaner than the apartment; there was trash on the tiny kitchen table: wrappers from granola bars, crumpled paper napkins, and other scraps, which Eddie tossed in the bin next to the washer. He took the liberty of emptying his uncle's ashtrays and stacking the magazines a little more neatly on the coffee table, as his mother would've wanted.

Every small chore he completed helped the dread subside until the only unpleasantness he felt was the emptiness in his stomach. It growled angrily and while his mother liked to keep all their food out of his reach, Uncle Wayne kept an entire cabinet stocked with all of Eddie’s favorites, and not just the cheap store brands either. Wayne always bought him good stuff. That single cabinet was like a treasure trove, rife with cereals, chips, pretzels, and even candy bars. The fridge also housed a handful of things just for him too: sodas and juice boxes, even Yoohoo’s.

After several minutes of consideration and a few more rumbles from his stomach, Eddie grabbed one of the freshly washed bowls and filled it with an assortment of snacks: a generous pour of Honeycomb, a handful of pretzels, and a package of M&M’s. He also swiped a cold can of Coke from the fridge and planted himself on the sofa.

That was where he stayed, patiently awaiting his uncle, munching on his snacks, and indulging in the luxury of watching  TV. The morning cartoons shifted into daytime dramas, turning into evening favorites before horror movies ruled the screens as the sun went down. Eddie watched it all, only getting up to grab more of the snacks from his cabinet. His belly was full for the first time in a long time, and he felt at peace. All the strangeness of the morning began to fade as the hours passed.

The last part of The Exorcist was playing on the television when his eyes began to droop. With Wayne still gone, Eddie pulled his sleepy body from the couch long enough to fetch the spare pillow and blanket folded neatly in the hall closet and sauntered back. He kept the TV on, volume low, as he settled against the cushions hoping to find Frodo and Bilbo and The Shire waiting for him in his dreams once more.

Next Part ->

[zopharooni]

"Ombros"

A DMAU story, part 1/4 (next part)

Ombros.

My home.

The beauty of this land is something none of the others can compare to. The beautiful temperate rainforest, backed by the glorious mountains, with comforting clouds constantly raining down. Sure, the grey tones might not be for everyone, but the inhabitants here love it.

I am currently on the hunt for some wild crops to add to our dinner tonight. Carrots and potatoes to go with whatever hearty meat meal Spike is able to hunt. It's not like I can't hunt for meat, but it's nice to be able to just stroll through the forest and enjoy myself, not having to focus on the hunt. Gideon loves his meats while Cliff loves his plants. Despite how different they are, they are perfect for each other.

Spike and I never actually met our parents. They abandoned us by the lakeside, unable to take the responsibilities of two children. Thankfully, Gideon and Cliff found us. I am forever grateful that they were there, and they are the best dads I could ask for.

Spike and I are deer. We look very similar, but Spike is bigger, has antlers, and blue eyes as opposed to my green eyes.

Cliff is a mountain goat, native to Ombros. He has black fur, with red highlights around the edges of his hair and beard. He's big, tough, and muscular, but honestly, he's just a big teddy bear. He couldn't hurt a fly. He did teach Spike how to use the bow, though! I didn't really care to learn about it, I liked the long stabby-slashy-choppy weapons more.

Gideon is a fennec fox, with really cool purple fur. His ears are huge! They're adorable! He's still pretty muscular, but on the more lean side. He's usually the one that talks to passers by and will never let anybody walk over him. He's also the one who taught me and Spike to fight with weapons!

My train of thought is briefly interrupted as the sound of rolling thunder fills the air. Guess I gotta hurry, we might have a bad storm tonight. Here in Ombros, it's almost always raining. The plants here have adapted to it, with tall trees, dense undergrowth, and most plants having massive roots to intake the falling water. Any rain not absorbed by the plants and soil, runs off down into the lakes. Great, beautiful bodies of water. I often sit by the lake side just enjoying the view. Wherever there isn't rainforest or lakes, is smooth rock, with small veins feeding the water back down to the lakes.

Wading through leaves slightly quicker, I spot a large cluster of my targets. I begin pulling on the deep, slightly faded green of the leaves, revealing the ombrosian carrots. Here, they grow as a more amethyst colour, which I hear is different from outside the lands of the old faith. I spot some large leaves that only grow from potatoes, and pull them up as well. Their pastel brownish hue matches well with the grey colours here. I also suddenly see a glint in one of the bushes off to the side. An iridescent crystal! Sometimes colloquially called "Ombrosia", you can sometimes find crystals like these around the place, and nobody really knows where they come from. Some say they fall from the skies during storms, some say they grow to the size of a person. They are rumoured to have a variety of uses, from good luck, to healing, to even being able to cast magic spells. Regardless, I place all of the goodies into my rucksack, and begin treading back towards home.

Home. Gideon and Cliff made a nice cabin for us a decade ago, and it's perfect. Comfortable and Cosy in all the best ways, staying warm and dry. My mind lingers on them. My dads. I can never not be grateful for all they do. Their life is our family, and they would do anything and everything if it meant we were happy. One day Spike had mentioned that he wanted to be a boy. So they lost a daughter, but gained a son, and I got a brother. They didn't question a thing, they just wanted to support him. Spike! I hope he's okay! The storm can make the hunt much harder, but he's older than me, and can likely handle himself much easier.

I finally make it back to our cabin. I open the door and am immediately greeted by the smell of cooking dinner. I see Spike's bow and quiver hanging by the door, so I know he made it back safe.

"Gid! Cliff! I made it back, with a great haul to show for it!" I yell into the kitchen.

"Oh good! Get your butt over here and start helping with dinner then!" Cliff's voice echoes.

I get into the kitchen and immediately start cleaning my haul of vegetables. Cliff is assembling dishes of vegetables while Gideon is searing various meats to add to them. Spike is slightly off to the side, butchering his Bounty from the day.

Dinner is going to be awesome tonight!