#before i'll settle down and start crafting things

[antirepurp]

i enjoyed a bit of sushi before starting minecraft and my agenda for approaching cobblemon is prioritizing pokemon with overworld uses and benefits since the real games would never give you that approach and it's making me realize how artificial a lot of the starter pokemon feel. like even in-universe these boys feel like they were lab-created to be someone's first pokemon that fights well. how would a squirtle help me gather resources. how does a chikorita help me traverse the environment. im going to be forced to pick one of these daffy pals when i create a new world but none of them serve my goal all that well

[felixbit]

songwriter

pairing: han jisung x gn!reader w. 0.7k genre: fluff summary: your boyfriend jisung's birthday is right around the corner and you have the brilliant idea to make him a song. you learn it's not easy, and you begin to worry it won't work out. warnings: reader overthinks and gets a bit insecure, jisung is of course there to reassure a/n: im so sorry this one is so short!! i promise i'll make up for it with a better hanji fic in the future. felix fic coming tomorrow!

Being a songwriter's partner has benefits.

Every new Stray Kids album that would come out would have some sappy love song written by your boyfriend, Han Jisung. He would send it to you after the album would drop, asking if you liked it. He would then reveal that it was about you, and you had to act surprised.

Of course you loved all his songs. They were beautifully crafted and every single thing made your heart go wild. He put words to feelings you didn't know you had. But, he was so painfully obvious.

His birthday was coming up, and you had a great idea: what if you wrote him a song?

As it turned out, it was a little harder than you expected.

Lines were so hard to piece together and it was near impossible to make proper rhyme schemes. Jisung's ability to write a song was quickly becoming even more impressive than it already was. Even when you started to get lyrics on paper, you had to figure out how it was supposed to be sung.

Whenever Jisung went to the studio, you took special care to see just how he put together melodies. You tried to ask inconspicuous questions, and so far hadn't risen suspicion. You'd settled on trying to figure out playing his guitar instead of doing anything fancy with production.

Learning guitar chords had your fingers aching and sore. Building up calluses and memorizing just where to place your fingers in a short amount of time was no small task. But, you had basic chord progressions down in a few weeks and were on your way to something.

You'd let Chan and Changbin in on the secret of the birthday song, and you were eternally grateful when Chan extended an invite to use their studio. He gave you a ride, showing you inside and some basic functions of how to record.

Even if you didn't end up recording the song, the space was perfect for sitting and conceptualizing music. You had the lyrics pretty much solid, even if you questioned their quality every time you read them.

Halfway through trying to run through the song, anxiety started to creep up on you. Jisung's birthday was tomorrow, and you couldn't decide if you liked the song enough to show him.

Another half an hour of brainstorming, and you were tempted to scrap the song entirely. Everything you had come up with in your head wasn't sounding right when you tried it aloud. How could it compare to his songs?

You heard the studio door open, turning and expecting to see Chan. Instead, standing in the doorway looking perplexed was Jisung himself.

"Jagi, what are you doing here?" Jisung looked at you suspiciously before approaching the couch you were sat on.

You pulled the guitar out of your lap and propped it up against the couch. Shit. "Oh, you know.. you come here often?"

Jisung let out a loud laugh, sitting down next to you and scooting closer. "Your one-liners won't distract me. Why are you here? I mean, I don't mind you being in the studio, but.."

"I.." You looked down at the lyrics still pulled up on your phone screen before handing it over to your boyfriend, "I was doing this."

His eyes scanned over the lyrics a few times with a perplexed look before they shifted back to you. "These are.. lyrics, did you write this?"

Fidgeting, you nodded. "Yeah.. I was thinking it'd be a good thing for your birthday. If I wrote you a song."

Jisung stopped for a moment and looked at you, stunned. "A song? For my birthday? Honey.."

"I know, it's not great, really nothing compared to yours, but-"

"I love it."

You looked up to him, taking your eyes off the floor. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. "You do?"

"I mean, it's really sweet. These lyrics, they're... I don't even know how you put these words together in the way you did. The feeling is so real, I didn't think I could feel that through words on a screen like that."

You felt your heart swell in your chest, leg bouncing as your eyes drifted back to the floor. "I mean, it's not that good.."

Jisung wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. "Don't give me that! It's the best! I would say it's just as good of a birthday present if you'd let me work on actually recording this with you and making it a full song."

"Really?"

Pulling you into a kiss, Jisung smiled. "Yeah! Now, would you please play it for me?"

[thatfreshi]

Pitch Black (Astarion x Reader)

TW - panic attack, claustrophobia, themes of death/rotting

I based this off some sad lore I found out about him yesterday :(

Recommended Song: Rainy Day Loop - SALES

There's a lot of things Astarion hasn't told you. You don't mind, because a lot of those things are hard to relive. Everything he tells you comes with a price, but he does it mostly out of necessity. There are times you know something lies deeper, and yet you don't pry. It will come to light if he decides it needs to.

However, he never told you about one of the first truly cruel things Cazador did. How one day he refused him, told him no for once. He woke up buried six feet under, starving in undeath for an entire year until his master dug him up again. That was the last time he disobeyed.

This led to a fear he never told you about, claustrophobia, that terrifying feeling of being unable to escape small spaces. He doesn't like closets, this you knew, but you assumed it was because they're dark and sad, not because they're small rooms.

One morning you're sleeping, peaceful, arms wrapped around him tight. He wakes up before you, calm at first. When he realizes his discomfort at feeling trapped in your arms, he gently tries to move you off of him, but you grab back in your slumber, not knowing what's going on beyond the barrier of sleep. That first wave of panic sets in as you wrap yourself tighter than before, and he freezes up, remembering the smell of musty dirt and bones. He tries to scoot away, and you unknowingly pull him in again. That second time is enough for him to feel fully trapped, and without thinking he bites down hard on your arm.

"GODS!"

You bolt up out of your sleep, holding your arm, realizing it was Astarion who caused the sudden alarm. He sits at the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, still trying to ground himself. You try to ask him things, why the hell he'd do that to you, but he can't hear your questions. The worms, the beetles, at some point you become accustomed to the tiniest sounds. He wondered if they'd start to eat away at him, if vampires were like corpses, if he would slowly decompose in the ground. You go to touch his hand and he yanks it away, standing up.

"Astarion!"

And he finally turns to see you on the bed, your arm bleeding badly, how concerned you look. He can't speak though. Footsteps, people passing by, unable to scream because of how tightly packed the sediment is. You try anyways.

"Aster, listen to me. I need you to listen to me, okay?"

You're panicking. You haven't seen him this bad in a while. He's not there, at least not truly there. To be knocked out, only to wake up in pitch black, what a horror.

"I think you're having a panic attack my love, can you try to focus on one thing in the room?"

A painting, a landscape of a graveyard. He was put in a graveyard, some kind of cruel joke. His eyes wander to the frame, golden, like thread. He remembers stitching little phrases and stories into his clothes, he remembers the first time he did such a craft for you. The breathing starts to settle, still shaking, he sits back down next to you, and just starts sobbing. You go to hug him and he flinches.

"No!"

You are almost taken aback, but you remember that it's not your fault.

"Okay, that's okay. I'll just sit here with you."

He just cries for a while, and you let him. Clearly something startled him badly, badly enough that he bit you. You forgot until now that you were bleeding. Not only did his fangs pierce, but many of the rest of his teeth got through the skin. As you're analyzing your wound, you take part of the blanket and press it into your arm, trying to stop the bleeding. Astarion notices the movement, and you see guilt overcome his face immediately. You interrupt before he can speak.

"It's okay darling, I know you didn't mean it."

He wipes at his tears, finally coming back to reality, truly grounding himself.

"I... I'm sorry."

"I know, it's okay."

He stares at a crack in the floorboards.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He nods, mainly because he hates it when you're confused.

"So... a long time ago, Cazador decided it would be fun to bury me alive."

He almost laughs at how ridiculous it is, how someone could even think to do that. You just listen.

"And I stayed there for an entire year. And I don't know how it happened, but you tried to hug me tighter while you were asleep, and I- I just panicked, I felt so trapped and it just reminded me so much of-"

He can't even bring himself to say it again.

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

He scoffs.

"Yeah, you were asleep, and I freaked out like a monster and bit you."

He gazes down at the wound, wincing at what he's done.

"Hey, look at me. Wounds heal, I'll be okay. What matters is that you're okay."

"I... I think I'm okay now. Just, feel miserable."

"That's okay, you're allowed to feel however you want."

"I know. Thank you my sweet."

He picks your hand up off the bed, holding it to his face. It takes weeks after for him to be hugged again, especially being the little spoon, but you don't mind. You'll go through every phase of his, good and bad. This one just happens to be bad, and that's okay. He'll be okay. You'll both be okay.

[kismets-barista]

Hold onto your Stetson, @ohposhers; have I got some personal HickDory lore for you 😎💜🌟🫧

Excuse the insanity for those who don't feel compelled towards these two

SO!

Hickory and JD met a few good years before the events of the World Tour when Dory was traveling to find Lonesome Flats, got heatstroke and passed out in the desert. Wakes up to Hickory shadowed in the flickering light of a campfire beneath a canopy of the brightest stars he'd seen since the Neverglades, but it wouldn't be until QUITE a few months later until they really started developing crushes against each other. (Cowboy under the stars, you'd think he'd fall right then and there, right? 🌟)

Why was Hickory already in Lonesome Flats, you might ask? Where was Dickory?

In a glue trap, I say in response. Hickory came from Yodelsberg (is there a canonical name for this?) for international study and to learn about new music. He fell in love with country because yodeling and country music are actually quite gorgeous together. She Taught Me to Yodel, anyone?

Delta Dawn obviously didn't take to Dory showing up and around the town, but after some convincing by Hickory and lots of proving himself (plus a vulture attack that resulted in John Dory saving the very young niece of Delta Dawn- Clampers-) he 'earned' a place there and began to work around town.

It was weird for him.

He'd never quite settled down, until then.

(Now, the specific timeline, yearly I mean is a little muddled because I'm still crafting this, but I'll put them out about three years, now.)

John Dory was still living in Lonesome Flats, and he'd started a relationship with Hickory. They loved each other, as my cohort in crime @protagonist-art (CHECK OUT THEIR ART I LOVE THEM SM MUAH) has Hickory tell John when we get write them, "More than the moon loves the ocean." As surely as the tide pulls in and out, so the lovers return to each other.

So Via, what does Hickory think about BroZone?

Oh, my sweet star.

He doesn't know.

After returning to the devastated Troll Tree, John Dory lost a piece of his heart in the damaged pod they used to live in. It was the first time he went grey, and the memories of his brothers started shifting from what was, to what would never be again. He couldn't find it within himself to talk about them, and has his secrets.

But so does Hickory.

Girl wdym stop being so mysterious.

Heh. I know. It's just a glimpse into my dark mind /ref. Anyways, Hickory never told John Dory he was a Yodeler troll. (Another piece of lore that Quizzy and I worked on together and I think it's brilliant.)

Huh? Aren't they in a long-term relationship? Won't this cause issues later on if they don't share these things with each other?

Oh, they love every aspect of each other too much for their bond to truly be broken.

And yet.

One morning, years after just living and loving, John Dory wakes up with a massive headache and nausea.

"Maybe it's that horse that kicked me yesterday, could've gotten me harder than we both thought."

"Lemme check for a knot, Darlin'."

No knots, but there was an egg.

🌟 (Here I'll say that I'm massively in love with the headcanon that trolls conceive through true love- it isn't quite necessary for them to physically do anything unless they want to. Just them, wholeheartedly trusting and putting everything into their relationship and pouring their heart out to their partner.)

They were absolutely ECSTATIC, and rightfully terrified in their own ways. Neither of them were looking for children but not against it, and after resting for a few days they began to plan. A nursery in the house, baby books with millions of names scattered on the coffee table, toys and cute little baby clothes for when the little one hatched.

Wanna know two of the names John Dory had in mind? Rhonda and Dolly.

They were ecstatic until the night John Dory woke up absolutely ill and with a pit in his stomach.

They lost the egg, and it was the second time John Dory went grey in his life.

A week after this had happened, John Dory left a bundled lock of his hair at Hickory's nightstand and did what he knows how to do all too well. He ran.

Hickory never went too far out of Lonesome Flats in the hopes that John Dory would come back. He couldn't imagine what would happen if his love came back and didn't find him there.

The events of World Tour come about, Hickory meets Branch, and travels for the first time since John Dory left.

John Dory continued to travel, until the events of Band Together.

But don't worry, dear readers, for as surely as the tides come in, so will the lovers meet again. 🌟

Aaaand BOOM! That's it! 💜 I've got lore behind the names Rhonda and Dolly as well, and am SO down to answer any questions about them that anyone has. For you, Posh, thank you for asking and helping me to share a story I've been working on, and for everyone else that read this, thank you kindly! I hope that everyone who made it this far has quite a lovely day, or if you didn't, have a lovely day anyways!

Remember to take your meds, drink water, eat something, and stretch!

💜🌟🫧

[livesworthlivingau]

Behind the Vale Chapter 13

ISAT & Two Hat spoilers below! CW: Suicidal Ideation, Panic Attack, Mania, Slight body horror stuff?

[You find yourself frozen in place in the next town you both visit… there's a large sign on a store with the words "Body Craft" adorned across it… Your hand slowly raises to your face, pressing against your starry cheek. Your mind races with vision of what you could look like, ways you could be your own person, instead of the lesser version of another… You suddenly jump some as a hand is slapped onto your shoulder.]

"Vale!… You okay, Vay?… You kinda spaced there." [She asked in a worried tone, looking to the sign you were pondering over. She took a second to put it together before smiling.]

"Oh! That's a great idea actually! Might be able to help out with your uhh… starry situation!… Though that stuff usually takes months doesn't it?"

"O-Oh no, just… thinking to myself, why would anyone ever do such a thing? Who would want to change this beautiful face after all~?" [She gives an unimpressed look, clearly not buying it.]

"Riiiiight… Tell you what, once we find Bonnie, we'll settle some place with a body crafter for a while. How's that sound?" [You roll your eyes, trying to seem uninterested.]

"If you insist, I don't know why you're so eager to get changed. All you need is a little make over and you'd be stunning, darling~." [You proclaim with a wink. She laughs heavily at that one, patting you on the back.]

"Hah! Sorry to disappoint but I'm not much of the 'fabulous' type, like you."

"Reaaaally? You do such a good job of hiding it~."

"Don't push your luck now, Stars." [She teased back, a slight seriousness creeping at the back of her statement.]

"Fiiiiiine, fine, I'll drop it~... So any leads yet?"

"Yeah actually, someone said their friend lives a couple villages away and they had the saviors there for a big celebration recently! We'd only be a few days behind if we hustle over there!"

"O-Oh! Th-That's wonderful news~!" [You struggle out behind the best fake smile you can muster… it clearly wasn't very convincing.]

"… Are… Vale please just tell me what happened. Are they the ones you were running from?…" [Her hand slowly raises to reach your shoulder again, but you knock it away before she can get close, taking a step back.]

"I-I… I can't talk about this…" [You shut down, hugging yourself while taking a few steps away.]

"Well we have to talk about it sometime, Vale! We're looking for them after all! What's gonna happen when we finally run into th-"

"I DON'T KNOW! OKAY?! I DON'T KNOW AND I… I… I can't do this…" [You shout at the top of your lungs before falling to a whisper, Nille taking a step back with a slightly frightened look on their face… everyone else nearby just stopping in their tracks and watching you, cautiously… We… We need to leave Vale, get a hold of yourself and go… We knew this was a bad idea… You turn and start to walk away, you hear Nille's voice calling after you, but this only causes you to go into a full blown sprint.]

"VAAAAALE!!!"

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

[After what felt like hours of running, your sprint finally slows to a stumble. You pant frantically and lean against a tree. You glance back to see if you were followed, and spot no signs of Nille. Your tired body slumps over, sitting on the ground before lightly bonking your head to the tree a few times. Stupid, stupid STUPID!... We knew this was a bad idea, we KNEW we were getting too close... So what's the plan now?]

[You sit in silence for a moment... You gaze upon your surroundings and blink, noting it looking oddly familiar... You look up to find the tree you're beside is absolutely massive... You ran directly to a favor tree, without even trying. You start to let out a laugh... and then you laugh harder... and harder. Before long you're cackling maniacally, holding your head in your hands, tears flowing from your eyes. We're shaking... we're too loud, we're losing it, CALM DOWN VALE!! You place a hand to your chest, taking several deep, looooong breaths. It takes a full dozen to even start calming down, but you finally catch your breath, wiping your tears once more.]

"Well... We're here all over again... not an ounce of hope left in us, ready to give it all up once more... maybe third time's the charm~." [You let out a defeated chuckle and start to look around for your favorite leaf. After you scour through the various fallen leaves for a surprising amount of time, as none were catching your eye, you finally spot one. It's crumpled up and shriveled, looking like it's been trampled on several times. This leaf has been through a lot and it's still holding on. This leaf is the one you will use.]

"Well... Here goes nothing... and if this backfires again, maybe I'll just wish for it all to end~! Try messing that one up, universe~!" [You giggle to yourself, though you know that's far less of a joke than you make it out to be. You take another deep breath and sigh it out, whispering into the leaf 3 times.]

"I wish... for a life of my own."

[The leaf is then delicately folded by your hands, and dropped at the foot of the tree... Now you simply wait. The sun was high above and beating down rather mercilessly, which didn't often bother you... but you did start to feel a bit toastier than usual...]

"Huh... is... is it working?..." [The question hangs in the air as you look around, then down at yourself, not noticing anything yet... but you do begin to sweat more, the heat growing to very uncomfortable levels... Wasn't it cold when you got here?...]

"HRRK!" [An intense fire builds in your chest, feeling like a hot coal stuffed beside your heart... You've felt this before, swallowing that star, burning your insides, you're feeling it all again!]

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!" [Your voice shrieks out, your hands frantically gripping and digging at your chest, it has to come out, you have to get rid of it!! YOU HAVE TO GET IT OUT!! Your hand digs into the star plastered across your chest, going inside of your body and searing as it finds the fiery star inside.]

[You cry out through the immense pain, clutching the star with all the strength you can muster! You yank violently as your hand slips back out of your chest, the bright, burning, super nova of a little star burning into your palm before you drop it in front of you.]

[Your whole body is shaking violently, you're panting, your vision is going blurry... your head smacks into the ground as your body can't remain upright... the darkness takes hold of your vision as you pass out.]

[muiitoloko]

Between Takes and Waistlines

Summary: Alan, a mature and charming actor, is enchanted by the talented costume designer.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem!Reader

Warning: none.

Alan rolls his eyes in amusement at costume designer, you, while you gasps in disbelief, taking his measurements.

"Good grief, Alan! Have you been sneaking off to the buffet table between takes?" You exclaims, measuring his waist.

Alan chuckles, "Oh, you caught me. Couldn't resist the allure of those craft service pastries. A man's gotta eat, you know."

You shakes your head, still incredulous. "Well, you'll have to lay off the pastries if you want to fit into your costumes properly. We can't have Lionel Shabandar looking like he's been indulging in too much fine dining."

Alan nods, feigning seriousness. "Yes, yes, I suppose you're right. I'll just have to stick to sipping water and nibbling on celery sticks from now on. The sacrifices we make for art."

You laughs, rolling your eyes. "Oh, stop it, Alan. You know you love your snacks too much to give them up completely."

Alan shrugs, a playful glint in his eyes. "Guilty as charged, my dear. But hey, at least I'll be a well-fed actor, right?"

You chuckles, shaking your head. "You're incorrigible, Alan. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

As you continues to take his measurements, Alan can't help but steal glances at your, admiring her beauty and grace. He knows he's too old for you, but that doesn't stop him from fantasizing about you every night. He sighs inwardly, pushing aside his desires as he focuses on the task at hand. After all, he wouldn't want to make things awkward between them on set.

As you finish with Alan's measurements, you take the pen out of your blouse and retrieve your small notebook from the pocket of your jeans. With a focused expression, you begin making new notes of Alan's measurements, ensuring everything is accurately recorded. Once satisfied, you glance up at him, a warm smile on your lips.

"Alright, handsome, we’re done here,” you inform, your voice full of enthusiasm for the work ahead. "These costumes will fit you perfectly."

Alan returns your smile with his signature charm, his eyes twinkling with appreciation. "Thank you, my dear. Your expertise is truly unmatched."

As he starts to make his way over to where his coat is, he pauses, a hint of hesitation crossing his features. Trying to appear casual, he clears his throat before speaking.

"Hey, I was thinking," Alan begins, his tone light. "The cast was talking about grabbing some drinks tonight. Would you care to join us?"

But you seem distracted, engrossed in your notes as you continue jotting down measurements. After a long silence, you finally seem to notice that Alan is still standing there, and you blink in confusion.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Alan," you apologize, a faint blush tinting your cheeks. "Did you say something?"

Alan's heart sinks a little at your apparent lack of attention, but he quickly recovers, offering a clever comment to change the subject.

"Oh, it was nothing important," he says smoothly, masking his disappointment with a charming smile. "Just thinking out loud. Well, I should be off. Goodbye, my dear."

With a polite nod, Alan takes his leave, pretending as though he had never extended the invitation for drinks, even if it was with the rest of the film's cast. As he walks away, he can't help but feel a pang of regret, knowing that he'll continue to pine for you from afar, unable to act on his desires.

Later, Alan comes home a little tipsy after all the drinks he's had. He stumbles to his bedroom, barely bothering to take off his clothes as he flops onto the bed, settling onto his pillow. Once again, his mind turns to you, and he tries in vain to push thoughts of you away, but it's no use. With a disappointed groan, he can't help but consider the idea of eating more and gaining weight again, just so you would have to take his measurements once more. He enjoyed having your hands touching him, measuring him, and hearing your voice as you spoke to him.

As Alan recalls this moment, he stops his story when Jimmy Fallon laughs, and Alan joins in, his baritone voice adding a touch of sophistication to the laughter. Jimmy questions if Alan really got fat just to have a chance to talk to you again, and Alan, a little embarrassed but still maintaining his wit, confirms the truth behind his actions.

"Well, Jimmy," Alan begins, his hooked nose giving him an air of distinction, "one must do what one can for love, even if it means sacrificing one's waistline for the pleasure of a lady's company."

As the audience chuckles, Alan's gaze drifts to where you're sitting, a fond smile playing at his lips. Despite the age gap, he couldn't deny the deep affection he felt for you. And as he continues to share his story, recounting how he eventually gathered the courage to confess his feelings and the joy of finding out that you felt the same way, he knows that every moment was worth it.

[cowgurrrl]

Bug

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Summary: The BuzzFeed Puppy Interview [1.6k]

Warnings: mentions of a pet passing away, grief, puppy shenanigans, a happy ending (and surprises)

"The last time we were here, I was pregnant." You say as you settle onto the ground next to Joel. 

"I know, it's been a minute! How old are the twins now?" The same producer from the last time you and Joel did a Buzzfeed promo video asks.

"They'll be six in July," Joel says, beaming with pride, and you nod. 

"Is this your way of announcing something?"

"No!" You and Joel say at the same time, making everyone laugh. Once things settle, you introduce each other to the camera and wait excitedly for the puppies to come clamoring onto the sound stage. It only took six years, but you're finally getting to do the puppy interview with Joel, and you both immediately melt when the little baby pit bulls pad their way over to you. 

You specifically asked if you could work with pit bull puppies to raise awareness about the misconceptions surrounding the breed in memory of Daisy. It's been six months since she passed after fifteen years of belly rubs, snuggles, and love, and you've felt the ache since then. Seeing the tiny versions of her makes you feel a little better.

"C'mere, honey," Joel coaxes as he half-lays on the floor and scoops up the tan one. "Oh, look at that little face." He murmurs as he kisses her head and tucks her safely in his arms. Meanwhile, you're working on getting a shy black one to toddle over to you with little whistles and kissing sounds.

"It's okay. You don't have to be scared." You say, but he doesn't budge. The other two puppies, one grey and one brown, cuddle between you and Joel, and you take turns leaning down to kiss their heads and petting them.

"What was the process like working together on this film?" The producer asks.

"It was really fun! I always like having him work with me on things, and he just has an ear for scores and music in a way that I don't, so I think bringing him on for that was a perfect choice." You say, your eyes flitting to the black puppy who's still hesitant at your presence.

"Havin' her direct me and make notes was different than how we've worked together before because this is the first time she's been a director and producer, but it was a really cool environment. Our kids got to come to set with us and raid the craft station, so it was a good time." He's always been guilty of talking with his hands, but the puppy whining at a lack of attention really highlights it and makes you laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you feelin' neglected?"

"Joel, do you have any favorite movies or shows of hers?" 

"What a great question!" He exclaims, and you laugh. "I love everythin' she's been in and done, but that's 'cause I love her so much, and seein' someone you love do somethin' they love is just… the most special thing in the world. But I do have a special place in my heart for Self Made Men 'cause that's the first thing I ever saw of hers, and she's just so pretty in it. I mean, c'mon." He says, and you pretend to roll your eyes. The grey puppy climbs into Joel's lap and begins nipping at his arm to get him to put the tan one down and hold him instead. "Oh, don't be like that. I've got two hands for a reason." 

"What's your favorite album or piece of music Joel's made?" The producer asks you as Joel holds the puppies, alternating between head scratches and lightly pushing at their chests to get them to play. 

"I still really love the album he was making when we first started dating." 

"Glass House?" Joel asks, and you nod. 

"Sometimes, I'll put it on in the background while reading or doing something. It's just so nice, and it's so beautiful, both lyrically and sonically."

"Look at you with your vocabulary." He teases. 

"I married a musician a couple years ago. I hope I'd sound like I know what I'm talking about." You say as the two puppies in his lap finally have enough of him, riling them up, and they run off to play. The brown one joins them quickly, but the black one still lingers around you. You open your hands to him to let him smell, but he doesn't actually sit with you until his siblings come skating by and spook him. "Oh, sweet angel! Are you just so shy and little?" You coo as he snuggles into your chest, hiding his face like he got caught. You pet him gently and adjust so he can rest comfortably in your arms, and something in your chest settles for the first time in months. There's a fleeting thought, but you dismiss it quickly as the producer asks another question. 

"What is your love language?" She asks, and you laugh.

"Joel's is acts of service and touch."

"Hers is… I wanna say," Joel squints at you as he thinks. "Words of affirmation, and I'm gonna say touch." 

"You got it." You say, holding out your hand for a high-five. The trio of puppies start playing a little rough, and you and Joel immediately go into parent mode. He disengages the fight by picking them up while you protect the whimpering puppy in your arms. 

"Woah, woah, woah!" Joel says. "I understand that you wanna play and you're explorin' different things, but that's not how we treat other puppies, okay?"

"I can't believe you're gentle-parenting a pair of puppies." You laugh, and he shrugs as he puts them back down before reaching out and scratching the ear of the puppy you're holding. He makes a content noise and leans into Joel's hand. You smile as you look down at him. 

"It worked on the five animals we raised."

"What's one thing you could give a lengthy PowerPoint presentation on with no prep?" The producer asks.

"New York City history," you answer quickly. "I lived there for several years when I was in my late teens/early twenties, and it's kind of mandatory if you're gonna live there to know different bits of history. I just found it so fascinating."

"I think mine would probably have to do with guitars or somethin'. Especially since I started makin' them." Joel says.

"Oh, yeah. He made one for Ellie's birthday recently. It was just gorgeous, and it sounded perfect, too. You could probably teach classes at this point." 

"I don't know bout all that, but I do know a lot bout it." He says.

"Tell us a little bit about the Big Dreamer Foundation." The producer says. You and Joel each say a little bit about the foundation you created together to support arts programs and give kids scholarships to go to the programs of their dreams. Since you've started it, you've been able to send hundreds of kids to school and provide them with resources they wouldn't have had access to before. You even hint a little bit at the community center you're planning on building in your hometowns to support the arts there and help bring the community together. Starting the Big Dreamer Foundation with him is by far the most rewarding of everything you've ever done. 

As the interview goes on, you continue cuddling the black puppy as the others play and eventually fall asleep on Joel. When you come to the end and you're promoting the movie, you look at the people who brought the puppies from the shelter. "Are these guys available for adoption?" You ask, and someone nods. You look back at Joel and see him already looking at you and the puppy. 

"Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" 

"I don't know. What are you thinking?" 

"I'm thinkin' there's no way we're goin' home without a puppy." He says, and you take a deep breath. You've been hesitant to bring another dog home since Daisy died. You weren't ready to love something else as much as you loved her. You also weren't ready to admit that she was really gone. But the kids miss having a dog around, and, honestly, you miss it, too. You didn't know you could even consider adopting another pet until the tiny black puppy captured your heart. 

"What's this one's name?" You ask the people from the shelter.

"That one's Bug."

"Bug." You echo in a baby voice. You look between Bug and Joel and feel tears spring in your eyes for some reason. "Baby, I think we need to take Bug home." You say. He makes a sympathetic noise and pulls you and Bug into his side.

"Then, Bug needs to come home with us." He murmurs. 

By the time the video goes live, Bug has come out of his shell and adjusted to the chaos of the Miller home. It turns out he loves music and will often sing along if Joel hits the right note on his guitar. He also loves cuddling up in bed when you're doing story time with the kids and is exceptionally patient when they try to put costumes on him to act in their plays. He's perfect. BuzzFeed includes pictures and videos of Bug with your family and a sweet memorial to Daisy at the end of the video.

You'll miss Daisy for the rest of your life but you know she would want you to love again. Her mysterious entrance into your life still baffles you, but you like to think she sent Bug your way in an equally baffling experience. You like to think she's still watching over you and the kids in her own way. You like to think she's just as happy as you are when Bug settles into your family like he was always meant to be there. 

[skeletinmoss]

The curse of the dark Phoenix

Chapter 9: The moonflower

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Roman was woken up by Logan.

It was time to eat and continue their journey. Virgil was readjusting his cape and offered Roman a small smile.

Roman cocked his head and tried to feel the exact mood behind it. He hadn’t really sought out their bond before now. He’d just experienced it as it happened.

Reaching out now he could feel that Virgil was a little curious, hopeful, but still filled with worry and guilt.

Roman tried to respond with reassurance and Virgil seemed to accept that and relax somewhat.

Roman felt a little pleased with himself at managing to comfort Virgil. Which made the high mage chuckle causing him to blush at being caught.

“If you both are quite finished with… Whatever that was. We should head out,” Logan insisted.

Virgil nodded and broke the circle. Roman felt a weird shift. As if the ground under him suddenly started moving.

He looked at Virgil who smiled at him in reassurance. This was normal.

He relaxed and gathered his things to follow his friends and their guide down the stairs.

“I trust you had a good rest,” their host greeted as he laid out a delicious smelling lunch.

Virgil was hit with a wave of nostalgia and Roman carefully bumped his shoulder

They sat down, thanked their host and started eating.

"I presume we will cut into our travel time now that we have been granted use of the inn then?" Logan reasoned.

"Not really. There is a village I need to visit to stock up on moonflowers. Their healing properties are too potent to go without and I’m not holding out hope my garden held out all these years. Not to mention prepping them for use would cost more time than we'd save with the short cut," Virgil explained.

Logan and Patton flinched, but Roman... he wasn’t as affected as he was yesterday. Maybe using dark magic had mellowed him out. He’d held a Moonflower in his hand and used it’s magic to help those people and he had felt no negative effects. Maybe walking a mile in Virgil's shoes had more influence on him than he'd thought.

He had other concerns though.

"Moonflowers aren't exactly legal anymore. So you might not find what you are looking for there," he pointed out.

"Maybe. But it is worth a try at the very least.”

The group nodded and Virgil took out his message stone.

"Re, I know you only just received my last message, but I wanted to let you know we are maybe 3 days away from saving you. I'll see you soon okay?" He offered. Looking at the stone for a long moment, hopeful and worried, before putting it away with a disappointed sigh.

No one commented on it. They finished their breakfast, bid the innkeepers a good day and promised to return soon.

They mounted the horses, Virgil offering to ride this time and went on their way to make as much headway as possible before the sun rose.

Roman was pretty sure he caught Virgil casting an enchantment on the horses before lighting another magic torch. Likely reinvigorating them to compensate for their lack of proper rest.

Virgil would want them to cover as much ground during nighttime as possible of course.

Roman settled a little more comfortably behind Virgil than he would have yesterday. Trusting that he'd know if V got uncomfortable with their closeness.

Logan took the reins of his and Patton's horse. He couldn't read in the dark anyway and this way Patton got a break.

"So... how did you three end up stuck together?" Virgil wondered casually. Trying to make small talk.

Luckily for him they were all more than happy to tell the story.

"Well. We don't remember not knowing each other honestly," Patton allowed.

"Indeed my earliest memory to date is waking up in a cart full of hay in the midday sun with the both of you," Logan recalled, making his friends aw all over him.

"Patton's family owns a farm near the town where Logan and I lived. On one fateful market day Patton was brought along with his mother while Logan was out with his parents selling their crafts and I was out with mine browsing the wares.," Roman recalled.

"Roman's parents are merchants," Patton offered helpfully. Roman nodded.

"Apparently I became fast friends with Patton and the two of us basically bullied Logan to play with us too. I spent quite some time at their houses whenever my parents were out for business," he explained.

"We were quite attached to each other and all fascinated by stories of the world before the magic plague and the heroics of the arch mage," Logan added.

"And then it turned out we all had magic and we went to school together and dreamed of one day finding out what happened to the arch mage. And now we are here," Patton finished.

"Quite a story," Virgil said amused.

"I met mine at school. We had different backgrounds but we clicked right away anyway. It was a relief honestly," Virgil recalled fondly.

Roman was about to offer some comfort but then a bird flying over spooked him.

"We should get back to a main road soon..." Logan mused nervously, his mind back to the situation at hand.

"How so...?" Virgil wondered.

"The roads are less safe at night. Especially narrow and dark ones," Roman offered. Though he couldn’t feel too scared pressed against Virgil's back.

Virgil was about to press the issue but a beastly growl interrupted him... they'd been spotted.

Their horses halted, stepping in place nervously. They weren't trained for dangerous roads...

"Hush," Virgil whispered. Tracing a pattern in the air, the release of magic calming the group as a whole.

He got of their horse and slowly walked out in front of them, holding the magic torch he'd made out in front of him.

A low hissing came at them through the foliage and finally the creature stalked into view.

It was easily as large as their horses. Black scales shimmering in the moonlight like black gems. Spikes ran across the spine and tail of the long body and a strong trunk hung between large tusks.

The spines and eyes of the creature glowed with some sort of magic.

"Well you aren't happy to see us," Virgil mused.

Roman eyed the creature worriedly. He'd heard of the Forest Dragon. They were one of many reasons you should not travel the roads at night.

The creature hissed again and moved as if it was about to charge, his spikes humming with power. But V disappeared and reappeared right behind it.

It turned around fast and Virgil grabbed it by the tusks and used its momentum to swing up into its neck holding on tight as it tried to throw him off.

Virgil gritted his teeth. Roman calmed himself with Virgil's calm focus. He wasn’t afraid or worried. It would be fine...

After a few attempts to slam Virgil into a tree that made it very hard for Roman to remain calm and not distract him, Virgil finally caught a break long enough for him to lay his hand on the creature's head. Its eyes and spikes glowing with Virgil's purple magic, though there was some red shining through... huh. The beast settled and Virgil got off. Hummed to himself, made a pattern and then the creature slowly walked away.

"It's territory has been invaded by another... once we got things in order we gotta do some wild keeping... is it like this everywhere?" He asked as he got back on the horse and urged it onward.

"Um... well... if you mean massive magical creatures making the roads unsafe at night... yes..." Patton admitted.

"My parents said it wasn’t this bad when the arch mage was still around," Roman offered.

"Hm... I guess it's not easy doing the job of ten high mages by yourself. And that’s just the wildlife. Don't get why he didn’t teach anyone how to do this though..." Virgil mused.

“Was… Bull riding dragons a regular activity for the high mages back in the day?” Logan asked.

Virgil chuckled. “Not for me. I haven’t done that in a long while. Even if I had been a wild-keeper, magical creatures didn’t tend to be this hostile towards humans, let alone a high mage. They know better. Or they did…

It's not Gustav’s fault really. From the sounds of it he spent twenty years trying to do all of our jobs by himself… I wish he’d reached out to Someone for help. Even if he didn’t find anyone who was willing to ascend, a great mage or even a well practiced common mage would have been able to lighten the load… There’s a lot more to do than I thought,” Virgil mused.

“So… What you are saying is… The dragons used to be nice?” Patton asked curiously.

“Well… I wouldn’t keep one as a pet… But most magical creatures would leave humans alone at the very least, even the carnivorous ones. I was kind of surprised that those wolves attacked us yesterday. I figured they must’ve been extremely hungry. But now…” Virgil mused.

Roman saw Patton light up. “So… I could pet them?” he pressed.

Virgil looked at Patton and Roman felt his curiosity almost push into his mind. Roman could guess the question. He pressed himself into Virgil’s back and let his fond exasperation at his friend’s almost detrimental love for creatures of all kinds respond for him.

Virgil chuckled. “Remus is going to love showing you all his favorite creatures once you can keep up with him,” he concluded.

Patton seemed to have completely forgotten about the worrisome title this particular friend of Virgil’s had gained for himself. He was just beaming at the prospect of one day petting all those creatures.

Virgil shook his head and focused on the road ahead.

“Any other dangers I should be aware off,” he mused after a bit. “Just so I can prepare,” he added.

“Nocturnal great beasts and bandits are our main concern,” Logan stated. “The light will likely attract both,” he added, looking at the magical torch.

Virgil hummed in understanding. “Delays by bad guys and grumpy beasts are likely… Got it,” he nodded pensively.

After a few moments of contemplation, Virgil waved the torch and from the light sprung phantom butterflies that fluttered all around them.

"Oooh!!!" Patton breathed in awe. Giggling as one briefly landed on his nose.

"I don't understand..." Logan admitted.

“Their form depends on if you are a danger to me. Any threat will see them as a danger sign," Virgil assured him. "And if they don't scare them off they'll warn us that something is approaching."

Logan nodded, feeling reassured.

"That is such a cool spell! Can you teach me!?" Patton gushed as he made a butterfly land on his hand.

"Sure. First you'll need a light..."

And for the next hour Virgil taught Patton how to make a magic torch. It wasn’t as bright as Virgil's but he insisted it was a good first try. The next three he spent helping him separate a piece of it and give it purpose... Patton grew a bit disappointed as he struggled to hold onto an orb, never mind giving it form.

"I've had a lot of practice. You just learned to make light on a stick. Which i don’t get. You don't even Need any support for that. None of you made an: we aren't allowed to do that face. So why don't you know how to make a torch?" Virgil wondered.

"We know how to make fire... maybe it just went out of style. Frivolous magics are generally considered a waste of energy," Logan offered.

Virgil huffed.

"Was... were there any rules in your day? Other than don't curse anyone...?" Roman wondered while Patton set his orb free and watched it float away a few feet before flickering out.

"You are getting better at it Patton. You gotta let it go. Don't try to hold on so much. Set it free and trust it will do what it is meant to," Virgil instructed before turning his attention to Roman.

"Oh there was illegal stuff. There were mages with the explicit job of finding dangerous herbs and either destroying them or putting up wards to make sure no one harvested them in secret. Not that that meant they weren't used at all. There have been kings who resorted to Rose Nettles to flip a spy. Zimmer Root has been used in torture... I only know about that because Janus was always up to his neck in the intricacies of court life. He kept unsavory things from me until after the king in question ended his reign. Not because he condoned it. Magical vows of loyalty are no joke," Virgil mused.

"Those are level eights..." Roman mused.

"Thats bad right?" Virgil wondered.

"The worst," Roman nodded.

"Well. Those are. We'll have to compare notes. I wouldn’t want you to pick up something that's actually nasty just because I made you think it’s a free for all," he offered.

Roman hummed into his back. Thinking back to the Rose Nettles he'd seen in the box back at the tower... no. Other subject.

"Your magic... it's a little red," he pointed out.

Virgil chuckled. "It is now. Thats a magic bond for you," he pointed out. Roman felt himself blush. Suddenly Virgil halted and got off, handing Roman the reigns. The sun was rising.

“Patton, keep practicing to let go of your magic. If you don’t believe it can last without you it won’t. So start with a simple command. I know you can do it,” he instructed seriously before turning to them as a group. “That's it for me for now. We should stop for some breakfast anyway." He suggested casually. Roman could feel his frustration though. He didn’t like being trapped like this.

Roman didn’t get a chance to say something. A flash of purple with a soft glow of red later and they all once again were looking at Virgil's Phoenix form.

They all got off their horses. “He has a point. It’s been a while since any of us ate. The horses will appreciate the rest and some fresh grass,” Logan pointed out.

They all nodded and led the horses to a small clearing on the side of the road where they let them graze as they gathered around for some breakfast in the increasing glow of the sunrise.

“So. I suppose we should try to contact the council again? At least see if the message has been passed on,” Roman mused as he held up his hand for Virgil to eat from.

“That would be a good idea. I’m a bit worried that we haven’t heard anything at all from them after being away for two days,” Logan mused.

“… Do you think Terance told the king as well? He did ask to be kept in the know of any findings…”

Paton wondered.

Roman looked at Virgil who was pretending to be too focused on his breakfast to follow the conversation. But he could feel that he was not.

The king had fond memories of this mage… Had he been hoping they’d find a clue as to what truly happened to his old mentor?

Roman didn’t even know their king had magic. Had he turned out less talented than Virgil had thought?

“If he didn’t, the king might end up reaching out to us himself…” Roman said worriedly.

Logan nodded. “Keeping our findings a secret will be… More complicated if that happens,” he mused.

“Would that be treason?” Patton asked worriedly.

“Let’s not worry about that just yet. We’ll discuss it with Virgil when he can talk again what he wants us to do if the king asks for our progress,” Roman suggested.

“We could say that we found strong evidence that the arch mage was looking into the night flame and that Noctora had a secondary residence and we are following up on both leads as fast as we can,” Logan mused.

Roman nodded. “We’ll see…” he allowed starting on his own breakfast after Virgil indicated he was satisfied.

After they were done eating, Roman retrieved the stone and cleared his throat.

“Great Mage Roman for the Council?” he called out a bit nervous now.

“Great Mage!” the reply came at once. “Ah, Terance again. Sorry, the council is still in a meeting… They have been since you three left honestly. We aren’t supposed to interrupt… Did you get to your destination?” Terence wondered.

“No, but we are making headway on deciphering some notes. Nothing concrete yet though. Only hope for answers. To more questions than we left with actually,” Roman offered.

“Oh?” Terence wondered.

“It’s too early to make any promises. But we should be returning with interesting findings,” Roman promised.

“Good! That’s great! I’ll leave you to it then! Good luck!!!” Terance bid. And then the stone went silent.

Roman put it away, frowning. “I know it’s good for us that there are no critical ears around him. But…”

Logan nodded. “Yeah. For the council to isolate themselves at this time… It is quite odd,” he agreed.

Patton gathered their things thoughtfully. “If it was something bad. Then Terence would tell us. He's a good kid,” he insisted.

None of them could argue against that, and it did make them feel a bit better. If Terence thought for even a moment something weird was going on he’d most likely defer to them to know what to do. After the council they were highest in rank in the wizard community…

Except… Roman supposed the king counted as part of the community… But he was highest in rank anyway. Terence would likely inform them and the king both regardless. Or be horrible at trying to hide it if the king ordered him to keep his worries to himself.

They continued on their journey once they ensured their horses were fed and watered sufficiently.

Virgil flew up. Scanned a bit of the road ahead for trouble and then returned to perch on Roman's shoulder. Roman found himself having an easier time understanding him than he had the days before. Holding semi conversations with him in a way through feelings and body language

Curiosity when Virgil landed on his shoulder. "How is it looking?"

Settling more comfortably and a happy feeling.

"No troubles for a good while"

A look at his position and bemused fondness. "You alright up there?"

Fond nibbling at his ear.

"Hush I'm napping here."

Or something along those lines.

As they progressed Patton kept practicing making a little orb exist separately from him, under the occasional gentle encouraging caw of Virgil.

By the time lunch came around he managed to make it float by his side for a few minutes before it dissolved. He was a bit disappointed Virgil had just been on one of his scouting flights to find a good lunch spot and hadn't seen him do it.

Not as disappointed as Logan was with his lack of progress. He almost skipped lunch, but Virgil was having none of that.

"Ow!" Logan called out when Virgil bit at his ear.

"Why would you do that?" He demanded. Virgil nodded to the lunch that was being set up and then held Logan's gaze for a long moment. Roman didn’t think that needed a translation.

"Fine," the diviner huffed as he put the journal away and joined his friends.

"Having a rough time?" Roman wondered as he once again fed Virgil before starting his own meal.

"It's not letting me past at all. Every time I feel like I have a grasp off the enchantment it snaps back with more force than before. I didn’t have anywhere near this much trouble yesterday," he complained.

Virgil chirped something, feeling unbothered, then he hopped over to Logan and chirped in encouragement. At least it felt the way it did whenever he had tried to hype Patton up.

"What?" Logan asked, exasperated.

"I think he is telling you that this was to be expected but to keep going at it," Roman offered.

Logan looked at him skeptically and then back to Virgil, who nodded.

"How?" He asked baffled.

"I'm getting better at interpreting his feelings and stuff," Roman shrugged. He didn't mention that he suspected that their link got stronger as their actual relationship grew. And since the baseline was: complete strangers, and it was (hopefully) heading towards a romantic connection... he wasn't sure what That would mean for their link if he was right.

"Hm," logan mused and then he went back to eating. Once their horses were ready to go again they got on and resumed their respective activities to pass the time and to not think too much about the implications of the council being unreachable.

Roman tried to see how long he could feel Virgil's presence through their link and if he could feel him returning before he could see him. It seemed there was quite a radius on this connection...

He did keep an eye on the road though... at least he thought he had.

"What's wrong Roman?" Patton wondered as Roman halted them.

"Um... we are supposed to go straight ahead," he said studying the map.

“Roman-”

“I am aware that there is no road Logan. That is why I’m stopping… I’m hoping Virgil will come back and… Hmmm…” Roman could feel Virgil approaching, but before he came into view he got farther away again…

“He’s confused too… And frustrated,” Roman concluded.

Logan dug through his pockets and moments later his eyes glowed blue.

“Hm. There used to be a road here. But it must’ve gotten overgrown over the years,” Logan stated as he got of his and Patton’s horse.

“Oh… No wonder Virgil is frustrated. This means we’ll have to take a longer way to his home right?” Patton mused.

“We’ll have to wait for him to turn back human and talk about it,” Roman shrugged.

“Nonsense. With all that talk about the earth having a memory I’d think the solution is rather obvious,” Logan huffed as he dug through his pouches again, reached for a book for a moment before thinking better of it. He sat himself down on the ground to meditate for a moment.

Roman just felt Virgil approach again when a soft blue glow surrounded Logan and his magic cut through the forest, lining out a path as far as Roman could tell.

And to his amazement the entire stretch of forest on this road, seemed to step aside to make room for the forgotten pathway…

What!?

Logan got up and dusted himself off, looking satisfied with the result.

“Hm. That went surprisingly well,” he mused. Was he being serious right now?

“I’ll say. It looked pretty impressive to watch the forest part from above. What are you going to call that one?” They all looked back and saw Virgil now back in his human form as the sun had gone down while they’d been staring at the newly reformed road.

“Pardon?” Logan asked.

“Well. As far as I know, no one’s ever made a forest split to make a path like that without destroying habitats. So what are you going to call that spell, Great Wizard Mage Logan of the forgotten roads?” he pressed.

“Wait… You mean this is official? I have… I have made a new spell?” Logan gasped.

“Being a High Mage, linked to the academy for that matter… Yes I have that authority,” Virgil confirmed.

Logan was beaming and looked back at his road.

“I think I’ll call it restoration reforestation,” he mused.

Virgil chuckled. “Good one. Thank you, by the way. This saved us a very long detour,” he added before getting on his and Roman’s horse.

Logan nodded weightily at Virgil and joined Patton on their horse.

Roman let out a sigh. He was going to be insufferable about being first, wasn’t he?

“Virgil, about the notes. You seemed to have thoughts on it, but as Roman’s, admittedly impressive, translations aren’t quite fluent yet, perhaps you could elaborate?” Logan asked. His tone strangely formal but also more comfortable talking to Virgil than he had been since meeting him. Well, giving him a special recognition of his talents that hasn’t been awarded to anyone in the past half century would make him warm up to someone.

He was not quite ready to drop decorum around him completely. But that was to be expected.

Virgil was still a high mage. And far more experienced and connected than them even with being gone for fifty years. Logan had actually been rather direct and confrontational with him all things considered.

“Sure. It’s not uncommon for the first protection to be obvious and easy. It’s supposed to stroke the ego of the mage or wizard who’s trying to read the text and make them misjudge their own abilities. So either they won’t notice the second layer, or they get too frustrated with not being able to break through the second one as easy and give up. Considering this encryption was still fairly noticeable, I’d assume there is another one better hidden underneath this one. So just so you are prepared. The type of encryption will also be very different. You’d be surprised how many mages will just get stuck on trying the same thing over and over again even if it’s clear that it doesn’t work like that this time,” Virgil listed.

Logan nodded. “Yes I noticed that the method I used yesterday didn’t do much. I have been trying to get a hold of the magic but it just slips through my fingers,” he admitted.

“Have you tried starting somewhere where you know what should be underneath? From what I read it’s all covered in metaphors and embellishment, so maybe start with something where you are reasonably certain of what you’ll find underneath. The more concrete the better.

So, a name or a place or a date,” Virgil explained.

Logan nodded. “Yes… I think I see what you mean. Thank you. I will make another attempt before we settle for another rest. You will be teaching us a more advanced method of this sleeping ritual?” he asked.

Virgil quirked his brow. “Yes. But I will remind you again that you shouldn’t overdo it. Nap responsibly,” he pointed out.

Logan nodded. “Of course. Overburdening my body is not my intent. But saving seven hours even half of the days… It is quite exciting,” he insisted.

Virgil smirked, a nostalgic fondness filling him and flowing into Roman’s mind. Hm… Logan must remind him of someone.

“We’ll be at the town soon. Sooner if these beauties feel like a quick sprint…?” Virgil suggested.

“Well, we can see if they have it in them,” Logan mused.

“Or we can ask,” Virgil pointed out. Roman felt him shift behind him.

“Excuse me. Do you two feel up for a quick race to the other side of this stretch of forest, there will be food and rest and water there,” he offered. The horses neighed and shook their heads in excitement.

“They’re game,” Virgil smirked.

Patton let out a squeal. He’d always wanted to learn animal speech spells but they’d all struggled a bit with the material. Virgil had proven a good teacher though, so maybe he’d have more luck explaining it.

“Well let’s go then,” Roman smirked. And so they were off, racing down the road. Roman enjoying the way Virgil held onto his waist and pressed into his back as the world flashed them by so fast they might as well be flying…

And then they were out of the forest and moments later the road opened up into a town. This one less of a farmer community, there was a large lake nearby with a river feeding into it so Roman assumed that this town was more of a fish based economy.

Though that didn’t have to mean that there was no food or herb growing going on.

“Whoa, there. Well done. Let’s get you darlings some first class treatment alright?” Virgil smiled as he got off. He felt at home here. It made Roman smile to see him so at ease. But also worried. Time was bound to hit him again…

Virgil led them through the village with the confidence of someone who'd walked this path many times.

He brought them to an inn where he arranged for their horses to be fed and watered and given a place to rest for a few hours. He paid and asked the innkeeper if the "bosh" family still lived here.

The innkeeper seemed surprised but gave directions that amused Virgil. He thanked her and led them on.

"Still the same old house. The son should be in his sixties now. I wonder if he'd recognize me. He was a kid when I was last here..." Virgil smiled, excited.

Roman shared a look with his friends. It seemed the relief of not having to make a detour and the adrenaline of the race had Virgil feeling optimistic...

Roman was glad, but also worried that this visit wouldn't go the way Virgil was hoping for.

They approached the two story house surrounded by a flower garden. Nothing that Ro recognized as a magic honing plant though...

Virgil knocked on the door undeterred.

A young man opened the door.

"Can I help you?" The young man asked.

"Very likely. Can you tell me what the most talented herbiologist family does for a living nowadays?" He asked. The man paled and stepped outside and closed the door.

"Who are you? Did the council send you to make sure we were still "behaving"? He hissed.

"Hm. Seems I’ll have to straighten out a few of those Council members. But no. Genuinely curious. It seems a waste of the gathered knowledge of 12 generations... I suppose you would be the 15th, since Zoë went into the forest to log all she could about wild growing herbs until she could provide perfect growing conditions in her own garden for each. She practically lived in that forest for 15 years before she went from a gatherer of herbs to someone the magical community came to for her homegrown herbs." Virgil recalled. Roman should have guessed that Virgil likely knew this family since their beginning.

"... yes... I... I’m a florist, actually. My mother took the knowledge on herbs and applied it on flowers. I'm trying to add tea and kitchen herbs to our wares, but...I haven't been granted permission yet," the young man admitted.

Virgil nodded a bit saddened.

"What is all that ruckus about...?” An elderly voice came from the other side of the door before it opened.

"Nothing, grandpa, please go back inside," the young man insisted gently.

The old man took in the lot of them, and his eyes widened in shock. "Master Virgil... is that really you?" he gasped. Apparently, he recognized him.

"Hello Lucas. It is a long story and one I'm not ready to share before all the pieces are clear.

But I do find myself in need of something from the old garden. You wouldn't happen to have kept your mischief going, would you?" Virgil smirked knowingly.

The man grinned and turned, beckoning them to follow.

"When that Gustav man became arch mage, whatever that was supposed to mean, he sent guards to every herb seller in the kingdom. That was when we learned why master Janus was late to pick up his tea order. I still have it, by the way. I took good care of it.

Mother was heartbroken, and then they burned the garden down. But I saved some of it while they were telling mother and father their orders. No one was minding me. And I prepared them all the way mother taught me." They had made it to what Roman assumed had to be the old man's bedroom. He knelt down and removed an old floorboard underneath which he had stashed several boxes of likely very illegal herbs.

"Grandpa!" The grandson exclaimed in astonishment as Virgil opened them and grinned from ear to ear.

"Moonflowers! Lucas, you are a hero. All of this will be very helpful. And I will give Janus the tea. Thank you. You've done your family proud," he stated sincerely.

"Grandpa!" The young man repeated more insistently.

"Sam. When a high mage needs something, you provide it. Especially when it is one who is such a dear old friend of the family," Lucas scolded. Sam paled. "High..." he breathed.

Lucas turned to Virgil without a word. "I never believed you were truly gone, master Virgil." He insisted. "And I am not alone. You have quite a few friends you can still count on if you knock at their door," he promised. Virgil smiled and took the elderly man's hand. "I know. Take care, Lucas. If I have it my way, things will be set right soon," he promised.

There were tears in the man's eyes and he nodded. Patting his hand. "Good. Good. Now you go rest up and head home. You still have ways to go. And I didn’t manage to get hold of enough amber roots to hasten your trip. I will get started on teaching my grandson and my daughter of their heritage while you fix things. Next harvest will be a bountiful one," he mused. Virgil nodded, pulled at the old man's ear, making him laugh, put the boxes away with care and rose to look at them. "Rest and then we head straight home," he announced with tangible relief.

[itsgrimeytime]

Home is Where the Heart is (Part Six) || Farmer!Rick Grimes (TWD) x Teacher!GN!reader AU

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...

Taglist: @1tsk1tty

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Like Real People Do by Hozier and Begin Again by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your life was spinning out of control, you knew that. After a string of particularly shattering events, you decided it was time to start anew. With a little help from one of your Grandma's rentals, you found yourself in the small town of Alexandria. The last thing you expected was your neighbor, Rick Grimes.

TWs: none.

[[A/N: We're back babyyyy- get that cliché cooking together scene in here. Carl is significantly younger than he was in the show when Judith was a toddler, sorry. But the vibes were a young class, what can I say? I'd say he's like 7-9, making you like a 3rd grade teacher. Anyway. Enjoy :))]]

His house was what you expected -homey, and well a bit like a farmhouse. You wondered just how much of this was Rick's, and if any of it was Lori's. Did she live here?

"I built it myself," he remarked offhandedly, almost like a boast but not quite.

"What, the cabinets?" you hummed, pointing to the white, well-crafted cabinetry -you could tell there was substantial work put into them, each detail could be harbored on for-

"The house," he corrected, gathering supplies through his kitchen like he'd done it a million times before. He probably had.

"The house?"

"Yeah," he laughed, looking at you with his blue eyes, playfully, "-why? You surprised?"

"Well," you looked at him -rugged from working on the farm, you guessed, "-no. It just takes a lot to build a house-"

"'Worked on it for years," he hummed, absentmindedly, "-Suppose to be a family home, before..."

"Before the divorce," you finished, softly -carefully looking at him.

He seemed a little somber, but it didn't seem quite as painful as you imagined just after the divorce. It still hurt though, whatever reason it ended still hurt.

"Well," you spoke, playfully, "-she's missing out, I'll tell you that. I mean..."

He laughed, staring down into the bowl -a bright little grin cracking along his face.

"-it's amazing in here, really."

"Thank ya," Rick laughed a bit.

"No," you echoed, "-I'm serious. This place is, god."

Your eyes swam along all the details, imagining his own hands working on it. Each wall, each slab of flooring, the archways, the ceiling-

Rick fell rather silent, a smile slipped across his face but he seemed rather bashful, "Thank you."

"Of course," you echoed, hands fidgeting at your shirt, so you set them along the bar top -not a real one but one built into his kitchen, "-can't have a man like you shit-talking yourself afterall."

"A man like me?"

"A good man," you settled on -contemplative, "-a great man even. If you aren't the cream of the crop, then I certainly feel bad for anyone else."

If you squinted, you could see a little blush rise on his cheeks -it made you feel kind of giddy.

"Thank you," he repeated, with the same sort of serious, but lighthearted, tone. He spoke almost as if it was hitting his soul, like it really meant something to him. Like your opinion mattered then.

You wondered if it did.

Clearing your throat, you approached him in the kitchen -leisurely, "Aren't I supposed to be helping?"

"Sure," Rick grinned, something telling in his eyes, "-but I do think you were doing a great job just sittin' there lookin' pretty."

"Ha, ha," you deadpanned, before scooting into his side -almost close enough to touch, "-Now seriously, how can I help?"

"I'm serious-"

"Rick," you laughed a bit, "-let me help. You want some bacon, eggs? I can do the whole works-"

Rick sighed, a bit defeated -flipping the little bit of his hair that had hung over as he stirred back to look at you with the tilt of his head, "Fine, darlin', you can do the pancakes."

He held his hands up and stepped away from the bowl, but he didn't go far -only a mere step to the right to take the bacon out of its packaging. If you focused hard enough, you feel the heat of his body but only if you focused.

Which you weren't, not on that anyway.

"Did you already put the mix in?"

He laughed, turning to you with hands at his chest -touching raw meat, "Ya never made pancakes from scratch? Did ya also get fed with a silver spoon?"

"Don't-" you started, pointing the spoon at him accusingly, "-my Mom used plastic, first of all, and I know what I'm doing, obviously. But if I didn't, what else would you put in the mix?"

He only laughed even harder.

It took you about ten more minutes and a Google search to finish the pancakes, and the whole time -because he was already finished- he leaned up against the counter and watched you.

"Here you are, loverboy," you sat the stack of pancakes on the table -they were small, but still seemed to be good in quality. They would be eaten, Rick assured you of that.

"You still on 'at?" He hummed, tilting his head slightly.

"Sure," you responded, "-you still on darling?"

"Touché," he chuckled, holding a piece of bacon towards you, which you politely refused, and then decidedly popped it into his mouth, "-let me get the kids up. One minute, just wait 'ere."

"Okay," you hummed.

You let yourself get lost in the house then, fingers tapping along the counter. The kitchen was so well-crafted, you absentmindedly decided one day that you'd ask him to build you a house.

Or you could have this one, your mind chimed, traitorous.

Waving the thought away, you slowly stepped off the tile and back into the entry. Looking down the hallway, where you saw not a soul, you ventured a little further into the house. Just a little peek wouldn't hurt.

Your footsteps echoed along the floor, as you guided yourself into the next room -the dining room. All along the walls were a slew of family photos and drawings, each with sturdy frames -treasured. You smiled for a moment, finger coming up to touch the wooden frame of a drawing -one where it was Rick (obviously by the bright blue dots where his eyes were) and a little boy by his side who was wearing a cowboy hat.

His son, you remembered.

You hadn't actually met him that first day, he'd never come to help -Rick said he was working on a "masterpiece". And seeing his work now, he most certainly could have been.

You weren't even actually sure of his name.

With that passing thought, you flickered through a few family photos -ones with Lori. It said a lot about a man when he put up photos of his ex-wife, a lot of good. Even for whatever reason they divorced, Rick kept her in their lives. That was really important.

You scanned the wall, looking for wedding photos -just to see if he was the kind to hang them. But you were left empty-handed. Huh, you guessed that made sense-

Your eyes settled on a photo, silencing your train of thought -it was Rick. He was turned to the side, in a professional sort of way, and your eyes dipped to the beige uniform and badge. Sheriff.

Well, you hummed, that must be where the hat came from.

He looked totally different -hair cut shorter and completely clean-shaven. Blue eyes still bright as ever, he suited it. That being said, you think he suited his look now better. He was very relaxed, at peace, and seemed to be doing what he wanted in life. In some sort of way, you could tell Rick was built for what he did, including being a Dad.

Your fingers extended, maybe just one little touch-

"If ya wanted a tour, darlin', you coulda just asked."

"Jesus, fu-" you spun on your heel, ears hearing the little mutters of kids so you corrected, "-Christ, Rick you scared me."

He was grinning, leaned against the doorframe with casual ease -how long had he been watching you? The stance indicated much longer than you initially thought.

"You did seem focused," he hummed -standing straight, "-what were ya lookin' at?"

You paused, lips snapping shut -no way you were telling him that. Luckily, you heard some clanging echo out for the kitchen, and settled on deflecting, "Oh, look at that, sounds like your kids are getting into something they shouldn't. You should probably deal with that."

It came out a little nervous, rambly even, but all Rick did was grin -shaking his head in disbelief. Of what, you weren't sure.

"Carl," you heard his voice echo out into the room, "-go sit at the table. Jude, stay with me, I'll put'cha in your chair."

Carl, you thought, you knew that name from somewhere.

You heard a young voice chime back, almost in a sing-songy tone, "Okay, Dad."

Before you could think too hard on where you recognized the name from, the boy walked in. His hair was just touching his shoulders, darker brown than his Dad's, but his eyes on the other hand were an exact match -bluer than blue. It was a little unnerving, actually.

"Hey," he crossed his arms, "-I know you, you're the neighbor Dad keeps talkin' 'bout."

"Uh, yeah," (he talks about you?), "-I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."

"My name's Carl," he smiled big and wide, holding his hand out to shake -cute.

You laughed, accepting the shake, "Very professional, Carl."

He grinned, proud of himself, before standing beside a chair -he seemed to know the exact one to sit at. Maybe it was where he sat every time? Now that you counted, there was exactly enough chairs for one guest (4 to be exact) -for Lori at one point, you realized.

Something in your heart tinged.

"You can sit beside me," Carl offered, even going as far to pull the chair beside him out.

"I'd be honored, Carl," you smiled, before looking back to the kitchen, "-Just let me help your Dad first. Save it for me, okay?"

He nodded -enthusiastically, sitting into his chair and holding the other's arm with a firm grip. Protective. You wanted to laugh at the sight, but bit it back -wandering back toward the kitchen.

Rick was there, organizing the plates of food, and Judith stood by his side, making relentless grabby hands. Something in your chest warmed at such a domestic sight, you let it simmer under your skin for a second.

"You need some help?"

He spun to look at you, letting out a nervous laugh, "Could ya? I can get the pancakes, and the plates-"

"Daddy," Judith pouted, "-up, up."

"Jude, just a second, okay? Daddy's gotta get the food-"

"Rick," you put a hand on his arm, "-I've got it, go sit down."

His eyes flickered to your hand for a moment -something in your fingers tingled, before connecting with your eyes, "I couldn't ask ya to-"

"You're not," you corrected, "-let me do this. Think about it. When was the last time you were served breakfast and not the other way around?"

Rick pursed his lips for a moment, reaching for one of the plates, "'s been a while, but I can help, darlin'."

You silently grabbed his wrist, and he turned his attention back to you, "Think of it as a thank you for the breakfast."

Rick sighed, and you dropped his wrist (fingertips warm and fuzzy) -stepping back from the counter with his hands in mock surrender, "Alright."

"It'll only take me a few trips," you explained, "-plus, I've already got a seat, Carl's saving it for me."

Rick wanted to say something to that, but Judith was persistent -tiny hands pulling at the fabric of his pants. With a long exhale through his nose, he scooped her up.

"Thank you," he hummed, soft and gentle and sincere.

"No problem," you smiled, teasing, "-loverboy."

He laughed a bit, a sort of flicker smoothing across his eyes. You didn't really know what it was, but it was warm, you knew that much. It made your throat run a little dry and your heart beat a little faster -you tried to school your face into something neutral.

Breakfast was... good. Not even just in the physical sense, which it very much was, but in general; it was a homey sort of experience, Carl chattering away, and Judith using a tiny fork to pick up bits and pieces of her food. Every once in awhile she'd play peekaboo with you, and you couldn't find it in yourself to stop smiling.

Carl asked you a lot of questions, but you answered them without a smile of hesitation.

Rick, though, was strangely silent. You didn't hear from him in any of the discussions, and his low gravel was decidedly absent to your ears. Pursing your lips, you chanced a glance at him and instead found him looking straight at you.

Blue eyes concise and focused, he seemed to be watching you, a little in awe. A sort of gaze that rooted you to your chair -a fondness far too much than you thought he would've had for you. Your eyes flicked back to the kids, who were both distracted by each other.

"You're really good with 'em," he spoke, slow and appreciative.

"I try," you quipped, before falling a bit more serious, "-I was really worried... when I started teaching, that I wasn't going to know how to deal with the kids."

Rick watched you for a moment, food forgotten, "It doesn't come naturally to ya? 'Sure seems like it."

"Thank you," you smiled -a little bashful, "-but you didn't see me before."

"There's no doubt in my mind 'at you were perfect, darlin'," he countered, blue eyes in a fuzzy haze -drifting across your face, "-in fact, I don't believe I can quite see a flaw."

"What," you questioned, bringing a bite to your mouth, "-with my teaching?"

"With you," he corrected, eyes still holding the contact as he slipped his coffee.

"Well," you cleared your throat -heart beating a thousand miles a second, "-there are definitely some people who would disagree with you on that."

"None of 'em 'at matter," he offered -so sincere, you almost had to blink away tears.

Your mind drifted to your city job, your... ex-fiance, and the aftermath of it all. You had really loved him. Now, you bet he had little to say about you positively.

"Darlin'?" His voice pulled you out of your head, "-Everythin' okay? Thought I lost ya there."

"I..." you started, but your words didn't come out -instead your tone trailed off into silence.

"You wanna talk about it later?" He offered -eyes flickering to his kids, warm and inviting, but not at all pressuring, "-Don't 'ave to, only if ya think it'll help."

"Would you?"

"Would I what?" He asked, seeking clarification.

"Listen," you hummed, "-it isn't very fun to just... listen. Especially about someone's problems-"

He grabbed your wrist, which sat unmoving on the table -rough fingertips brought you back, "I'd love to listen to ya. Whatever ya wanted to talk about, I'd be happy to."

"Yeah?" You offered, soft, "-You're a busy man, Rick, are you sure you can-"

"I'll make time for ya," he hummed, fingers leaving your arm -warmth in their wake, "-you're more important than that other stuff anyway, darlin'."

Your heart fluttered in your chest, but you merely noted it, "You're a farmer, don't you need to tend to your farm? Isn't that like grueling, time-consuming work?"

"I can adjust, get some stuff done faster," he muttered, "-what? Ya don't think I can do it?"

"No, I just..." your mind dipped back into the city and feeling lonely even though there were people all around you.

Rick must've noticed something flash through your eyes, as his hand hesitatingly threaded into yours on the table, "I'll make time for ya, promise."

And you somehow believed him.

[rjcopeseethemald]

Responding to a few times Elsie tagged me for tag games because I haven't responded to them at all before

(also guess who's back into posting)

Whoops, sorry @elsie-writes, it appears I've accidentally ignored every tag game you've tagged me for. All of them over several months ago. Better late than never though!

Below are responses for a Character Voice Tag, OC in 15, and Find the Word:

Character Voice Tag

My line: "Is it supposed to be green?"

Lia: "Hey, is that thing supposed to be green? Lioko: "Uhh... guys? There's this, uh– green thing, and I'm not sure if it's supposed to be green or not!" Maiolo*: "That's supposed to be green, right? This'd be a bad time for me to start going colorblind..." Hydrogen: "Hang on..." Adjusts their eyes... then adjusts them again.... "Is that thing supposed to appear green like that?

*Originally named Miilo and then Maiilo before I settled on Maiolo.

For this one, I'll tag @eccaiia, @melpomene-grey, @vesyl, @elmachetecriollo, and leave it open! Your line is "We have to get the power back on." or, if your setting doesn't have electricity, "We have to get it working again.""

OC in 15: Hydrogen

A lot of people seem to love Hydrogen, so I'll sample 15 of their lines for you all:

The wisp slowed down in mid-air and floated towards the re- emerging twins, but stopped briefly to glance at the massive hole in the wall. “Oh,” they said, only mildly taken at all. “I told the novices to keep their sparring outside…. Anyway!"

“So! Am I to assume the age of the Cadrian Empire is long gone? –Actually, I’m taking your near total confusion as a ‘yes’–”

“[Crafting] the stars?” Lioko repeated, incomprehension in his voice. “How’s that not godlike?” “Oh, they were going to form anyway,” Hydrogen dismissed, with a several little waves of their hand. “I just made the first few. It took me a million years for each one, several failed attempts, and I can’t even do anything larger than those boring red ones that just…” they rippled their fingers in the air. “–fizzle out.”

“Okay, this is great and all,” Lioko interposed. “But… how can we trust you?” “It’s simple!” Hydrogen giggled. “You can’t!”

“Oh, I’ve got thirteen billion years on both of you. I know full well how suspicious my whole… deal– might sound,”

“This world is not mine to hold dominion over. I'm an Elemental! Not a supreme being!” said Hydrogen. “…So, anyways: May I accompany you home? Or shall I be relegated to waiting outside?”

“You know, Hydrogen…” said Lia, cracking an appreciative smile. “I like the way you think.” “Well, now you’d just be making me blush if I was able,” they quipped.

“Sleep really is the most… unnecessary necessity, isn’t it?” said Hydrogen, not looking away from the sky. “Yeah, I guess it is,” Lia answered, hoisting herself all the way up onto the roof. “Hmm… sorry about that,” they quipped, holding their hand outstretched and shutting one eye. “Blame… the laws of physics, or something.”

“Why even get so close to us humans in the first place?” asked Lia. “You’re so… far above us, on a basic level.” “On a basic level, maybe,” Hydrogen answered, pushing off the roof to float cross-legged in the air. “But I don’t consider myself to be above you. I’ve got feelings, too; I’m far from perfect; and I have opinions and tastes. Sure, I might be– well– me, but really; that’s where our differences end. And, you could still learn to mimic a sizable fraction of our power. Not so far above you now, hmm?”

“Well, of course I’m willing to guard you against threats to your lives,” Hydrogen clarified. “Just… don’t personally ask me to kill anyone.”

“Might I remind you that atomancy can give you parity with regular weapons,” Hydrogen imparted, floating down from the driver’s bench. “Yes, even these fancy new ones.... I talked with the village toolsmith, they’re not that impressive.”

When dawn broke the next day, Hydrogen was right there on the kitchen windowsill, casually lying back in waiting. They had a pleasant little smile on their face, a look of satisfaction or contentment. “You’re finally awake!” they greeted, flitting up into the air. “I’ve been wanting to tell you the good news since midnight.”

“Well, let me just say, I’m delighted there’s some Elemental already doing this!” Hydrogen responded, bouncing up to float at eye level.

A titanic golden eagle– whose feathers appeared to be made of real gold– landed on the steps. Hydrogen was like a mouse to him. “Well!” said Hydrogen, recovering back to a standing float. “You’re certainly new!"

“Ah. Hydrogen, you’re back,” said Bromine. “What did you find?” “A lot,” Hydrogen answered, frankly. “But that’s all I’m going to say!” they tried to lighten up once more.

For this one, I'll tag @lanawritesalittle, @late-to-the-fandom, @oh-no-another-idea, @njnetails, and leave it open

Find the Word Tag

My words: Blonde, Hall, Know, Drug, Girl Blonde:

And– the early hour had almost made [Sandrine] forget– regulation dictated that long hair belonged in a single bun. She quickly consolidated her platinum blonde locks at the back of her head into a swirling sort of shape, and with that, headed off towards the Joint Command building.

Hall:

Molau’s seat of government was quite meager in comparison to the Visselan House of Congress, but the Assembly Hall made do with what it had.

Know:

“Atomic fusion!” Hydrogen proclaimed, sheathing their sword with a little spinning trick. “Only a few Elementals’ atoms are light enough for it. And… want to know the best part?” Lioko went “Wait, uh–” but not before Lia could jump in with “–Ooh, tell us!”

Drug:

No instances

Girl:

“Police!” the irate Visselan shouted over to the J. Miller building, catching the attention of a couple loitering officers. “That Native girl and her brother stole my dyes three months ago!”

Sending this one out to @mk-writes-stuff, @eddie-roo, @marlowiswriting, @moonsbetween, and leaving it open; Your words are Head, Hunt, Silence, Steal, and Witness.

This was fun, and hopefully I'll keep my word and get back into posting! And please remember that all tags are no pressure!

[idyllic-affections]

idk i felt like posting an older draft. here's miscellaneous, mostly silly and lighthearted aeon of creation!reader thoughts:

dan heng once pointed out that they don't blink. he found that the next time he interacted with them, they periodically blinked. not often enough, but... well. who is he to judge this weird, blatantly nonhuman being? really? him, of all people? his unease eventually settles and he finds that he gets along with them quite well, especially late at night when everyone else is asleep. they're wise in a way he cannot place, cannot explain. but he knows. he knows they aren't human. and that's fine. he doesn't pry.

sometimes himeko likes to sit with them and watch the stars, generally in the early morning. she tends to be up first. she gets to hear all their stories and gossip about the other aeons. she is very very very entertained by them and the things they share with her (she's also quite surprised that the aeon of creation is so gossipy, but she wonders if they were just... lonely for a long time. perhaps they were. so, she's glad to let them talk, really, since it seems to make them so happy).

"You know, Lan is such a fickle thing. They used to never want to talk to me, but if I go find them now, they'll talk... a little, but then one time I tried to braid their hair and they told me they would kill me if I tried again. I really don't get it! Yaoshi would let me. Maybe I should tell them that the next time I see them... or would that get me wounded? Hmm. Oh well. I'll have to try and see what happens. A... 'social experiment,' as you mortals might call it."

Himeko chuckled at that. "Be careful, please. We are all quite fond of you, you know? I can't even imagine what I would tell March if you never returned."

"Oh, yes, of course. No, I— I wouldn't let down my guard around the Hunt, regardless of if I were doing something so objectively foolish like using the object of their ire to my advantage or not. It's so unfortunate, but they do not see me as an ally, due to Abundance and Creation being adjacent paths, so I would not risk my safety under this or any other circumstance. Even in the worst case scenario, it would be exceedingly difficult to kill me." They waved their hand dismissively, as if to reassure her.

"Even for another Aeon?"

"Yes. Even for another one of my kind. It typically takes two or more of our efforts combined to take down just one of us. Therefore, you should not concern over me. Anyways, where was I before that? Hmm— ah! Right. You know, Aha is perfectly fine to spend time with if I get too bored, but then they'll entirely and completely target me the second I turn my back or face another direction and I just..."

the human vessel which [name] has thoughtfully and carefully crafted specifically for this journey of theirs is... quite fragile. initially, this was quite the annoyance, but they've come to realize it's probably for the best—mortals are such fragile things, no? it makes their facade more believable when their vessel is so weak (in comparison to what they're used to, of course; their mortal vessel in comparison to other mortals and immortals is quite powerful, and [name] can bodyslam dan heng il or himeko or even mr welt yang of all people... not that they would! bodyslamming people is rude after all).

^ subsequently, they have to be careful with the amount of strength they exert. if they surpass a certain point, their poor little human body starts to crack and scar... literally. they have scars that make it look like they're being held together by kintsugi. it's quite pretty, really, and march thinks there is no one more beautiful <3 she's so fond of her silly friend and all of their odd traits.

[13as07]

Little Mouse #2

(Orochimaru)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Millbyo]

Requested by: Not Your Dad, Probably

Word Count: 3,249

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Pet, Mouse, Good Girl, Brats

Nudity

Sexual Tension

Exhibitionism

Threats of Violence

Discussion of Non-con Somnophilia/Rape

Manipulation/Victim Blaming

Titty Play

Spanking

Biting/Blood

———————————————————————

     The feeling of chilled designs being painted across my lower abdomen is the first thing to greet my awakening. " - sat the hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into murder, and whose informing voice had consigned me to the hangman," my Lord's voice purrs softly, retelling my favorite of stories.

     Carefully, I let my eyes roll open, my body slowly waking up alongside my mind. "I had walled the monster up within the tomb," he finishes, his fingertips freezing against me as I move in his lap.

     I pick my head off of his shoulder, shifting my limbs to shake off the weight I feel on them. My eyes dance around the scenery in front of me, slowly piecing together what's going on. Darkness hangs around us, encouraged by the trees' canopies, the bushy greenery, and the rows upon rows of different plants my Lord has growing for my enjoyment as much as their uses to him.

     Snips of the evening are scattered around my mind. My Lord's excitement and wish for celebration. Me asking to go outside and see the stars. The accidental cursing that left me in pain a while ago and currently leaves me aching.

     Forcing myself to sit upright sends the blanket wrapped around me tumbling to my lap. Orochimaru's freezing touch and the soft chilled air rolling across my skin tip me off to my nudity before my eyes do. Embarrassment stirs in my stomach, my eyes continuing to scan the scenery to try and wash it away.

     Were settled into the gazebo hidden deep within the garden sealed and cared for within the manor's gates. The stars twinkle above the glass ceiling of the small building, shining bright because of the low light given off by the candles and lanterns littered around us.

     Trays of sesame cookies, various flavored Swiss rolls, and a selection of dango treats are settled on the table a few steps away, framed by a wide selection of other foods. The scent of chicken is light in the air; four or five different variations of poultry are offered alongside cooked veggies, steaming rice, and fresh fruits.

     My Lord and I are sat on the wooden floor, our position feathered more comfortably than raw wood. Blankets and pillows drown us, cushioning us as much as they try to block out the chill of the spring night. I'm bare in his lap, nothing but a blanket hiding my lower body from the world. The feeling of his chilled skin pressed against me is only cut off in a small section, a pair of sleeping shorts being the only thing he's wearing.

     Orochimaru's hand wanders down, drawing circles against the skin of my inner thigh. The touch is small but lights me like a forest fire. It also lights the awareness of others around us. Kabuto is settled off to the side, busy looking over one scroll or another but still ready to jump to our Lord's beck and call when needed. Two guards are settled outside of the gazebo, perched right off the six short steps it takes to enter our space. I'm sure others are littered around the garden as well, guarding, searching, and watching.

     My hands ball up the blanket, set to pull it back over myself. "Don't do that, my Pet," Orochimaru whispers in my ear, the weight of the storybook being placed in my lap leading to the feeling of his hand wrapping around my wrist. "You're going to ruin my celebration."

     "My Lor - "

     "Your Orochi," he cuts me off, his head falling so his lips can brush against my shoulder. "I'm your Orochi. I've been more than patient with you, little Mouse, but I'm starting to believe I'll have to carve my name into you. Is that what you need, Mouse? To be held down as I carefully mark you with my name? Do I need to make you bleed to force my name off your lips?" His kisses stay light as he threatens me, dragging their way across my shoulder. His fingertips stay active too, his claws gently scratching against my skin as they inch a slow winding path across my leg.

     "No," I whisper, trying my best not to squirm away from his attention. "I'm sorry, Orochi."

     "I know," he whispers, his teeth tugging on my earlobe before his lips are back in control, slowly crawling from behind my ear, down my neck. "How do you feel, my pretty Pet?"

     I stay silent for a moment, taking the time to evaluate how I feel. "My wrist is a bit sore," I mutter, moving it back and forth to feel how painful it truly is. "My hips ache. Most of my body aches but my..." The words fall silent on my tongue, my mind at war with what to say. I know something happened while I was unconscious. I can feel it, but I'm not sure I want to listen to my Lord reminisce on it.

     Orochimaru chuckles, his fangs brushing against my jugular. "I got excited, Mouse," he whispers against my throat, his fingertips brushing up my hip to settle on a lower section of my torso. "I couldn't help myself. You looked so beautiful in your pretty robe, sprawled out on my table. I thought just a taste," his words fall short so his tongue can slide out, tracing the vein that's holding his attention.

"Would be sustainable but I should know by now it never is. I couldn't help but enjoy you while you looked so wounded. After all, if you hadn't let me curse you, you wouldn't have been unconscious. If you hadn't tried so hard to look pretty for me, I wouldn't have had the urge to rape you."

     "Oh," I whisper, staring up at the stars twinkling through the glass above us.

     Orochimaru's nose slides against his favorite spot on my neck at the same time his fingertips slide around my wrist, pushing into my wrist so he can test my pulse. "Say it's your fault, little Mouse."

     "It's my fault."

     "What's your fault?" His tone is cold but humorous, his joy from belittling me never tempted to be hidden.

     "What you did."

     "What did I do?"

My eyes sting as I blink, trying to smooth the pain over without crying. "Rape me," I whisper, instantly starting to count the stars once the words are out.

He hums, lips brushing against my neck before his fangs tease my jugular. "Say it again, little Mouse."

"It's my fault I was raped," I comply, fire burning over my skin, and not in a good way this time.

"Aww, my poor Pet," Orochi coos, fingertips sliding up my arm and trailing over my shoulder before settling around my jaw. His grip hardens before tipping my head backward, forcing eye contact. "Look at those pretty eyes, all welled up with tears. You're the most beautiful while you're in pain, Mouse. Physical or mental."

     "Thank you."

     Orochimaru hums again, tipping his down to brush his lips against mine. "You're fine, my pretty Pet. Don't ruin my celebration by crying. Am I understood?"

     "Yes, Orochi."

     "There's a good girl," he finally praises, the four little words wiping away the weight of betrayal that has been stirring in my stomach. "Don't wear things so tempting and you won't get raped, will you? No, you won't." Orochimaru releases my jaw, his focus shifting off of me and effectively ending the conversation. His order makes sense, but there's still a whisper in the back of my mind, telling me no matter what I was wearing, the outcome would have been the same.

     "Dry those tears," his next order comes, his slim fingers picking the book off of my lap before cracking it open and flipping through the pages. "I'll make it up to you in a while."

     "Oh."

     "Oh?" He echoes, his head lowering to run his nose over his favorite spot for the millionth time. "Aren't you curious what I plan to do to you?"

     "Yes, Orochi."

     "When I'm all done here, I'm going to carry my pretty pet back into the manor, lay her out on my bed, feel her dripping cunt squeeze my fingers, and slide my tongue through her until there's not a single inch of the manor that hasn't heard her scream my name." The softly spoken words and the feeling of Orochimaru's tongue tracing the veins of my throat make my thighs squeeze together, trying to tarnish the heat making my mind fuzzy. "Isn't that worth a bit of defiling, Little Mouse?"

"Yes, Orochi," I breathe out, his name shaky despite my attempt to keep my voice even.

"Look at you," he mocks, his teeth brushing against my neck, quickly giving my skin a small nip after. "I've barely touched you and you're already quivering. You need to calm yourself, Mouse. You wouldn't want to ruin our celebration, would you?"

"No, Orochi."

"I didn't think so." His attention falls off of me again, back to the thick book filled full of stories from before our time, from before the world we live in. The book is snapped open, settled in the middle of my lap as Orochimaru leans over me. My eyes trail over his fingers, admiring their slimness, the paleness of them, and trying not to think about what they'll be doing to me later.

He settles on the first page of my favorite story, The Black Cat, by someone named Edgar. It's a weird name, one that Orochimaru tells me is oriented from some old city called England. A city that stood before the Gods rained down on our world and gifted us the way of life we have now.

     "For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence," he starts reading, his hands quickly finding a way to stay busy as his eyes crawl across the pages. One hand waves at Kabuto while the other crawls up my body, fingertips sliding across my belly in soothing circles.

     "Yet, mad am I not, and very surely do I not dream. But tomorrow I die, and today I would unburden my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household events," he continues reading, head bowing to brush kisses against my shoulder between each of his words.

Kabuto settles next to us, head bowed so our Lord can whisper in his ear. My story is put on pause for orders to be given. As soon as the boy steps away, I'm the center of Orochimaru's attention again. His arm wraps around my waist, turning me in his lap before flipping us over.

My back settles against the mountain of pillows as my Lord picks up the fallen book, settling it safely next to us. His attention falls to the blanket tied around my legs, carefully pulling it away from me. The cold spring air breezes over my newly exposed skin, the chill making my nipples pebble, something that doesn't go unnoticed.

"My poor pet," Orochimaru coos, lying himself on top of me. His hands cup my hips, his mouth teasingly low as he brushes kisses against my bare skin. "Are you cold?"

     "I'm fine, Orochi," I mutter, my fingers finding work in balling up the bedding rested under me.

     His tongue slides out after every kiss, kitty-licking my skin as he inches his way up my body. "A good master would warm you up. Wrap you in clothing or blankets. I'm not a good master," he whispers against my stomach. Orochimaru unfolds on top of me, more of his weight pressing into me the higher up he climbs. "I'm a selfish master, one that'll gladly let you freeze if it means I get to enjoy every inch of your unburdened skin."

     "I know, Orochi."

     His tongue pokes out again, slithering against my breast as his hands slide up my sides to rest against my rib cage. It doesn't take long until his muscle finds my hardened nipple, lapping at the pebble before wrapping around it. Luckily, Orochimaru's mouth is warmer than his skin. My body happily excepting the warmth offered when he sucks my tit into his mouth.

The warmth doesn't stay for long, quickly taken away with a pop of Orochi's mouth. "Delicious," he marvels, laying one last long lick across my breast before pulling away from me. My Lord moves around, situating himself to face away from me as he lays between my legs, my knees hooked over his shoulders. "Now, where were we?" He mutters, cozying into his new spot as he flicks through the storybook again.

"Ah, yes," he mumbles, settling back into the pages of the old tale. "In their consequences, these events have terrified, have tortured, have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me, they have presented little but horror, to many they will seem less terrible than baroque."

     I tap my thighs against his cheeks, making his words come out a little jumbled. Orochimaru paws at my thigh, gently slapping it so I'll release my grip. "Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce - Mouse," he rumbles, spanking my leg when I squeeze his face again. "I cannot read to you if you keep interfering with my speech."

"I'm sorry, Orochi."

"Lair," he grumbles, spanking my thigh once again. My flesh stings where his hand made contact, this punishment given to me harder to nip at any further attempts of distraction. "Behave," I'm ordered as he turns his focus back to the book. He's silent for a moment, trying to find his spot again. "Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common-place, some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects."

Kabuto settles next to us, standing woodenly straight as he looks down at our Lord. Two plates are settled in his hands, one packed with sweets and fruit while the other sports the various chicken and other non-sugary foods. "My Lord," he carefully calls, lips pierced with the knowledge he's going to be yelled at.

"Dear Gods above, let me read," Orochi snaps, his anger spearing into his civil servant. "I can barely handle you two, who knows how I'll balance Sasuke on top of you brats."

     My eyes flicker up, glancing at Kabuto. 'Tell you later' is mouthed down to me before his focus switches back to Orochimaru. "Apologies, My Lord," he mutters, tilting his head down in a sloppy bow. "I figured you'd want your Mouse to eat while her food was still hot. After all, it should help warm her up without taking away your joys of skin-on-skin contact."

     Orochi tenses against me, his anger seething in his expression. "Smart ass," he hisses, jerking his gaze away from the boy. "I do it because I enjoy degrading my little Mouse, not because I enjoy skin-on-skin contact."

Kabuto hums, cocking an eyebrow before lowering the plates toward our Lord. Orochimaru snatches the dishes, settling them on the floor as he grumbles to himself. "That is all, be gone," he snaps, waving his second hand away.

"Lord, Lady," Kabuto mutters, bowing before walking away from us like he always does. I wonder who this Sasuke guy is and if he'll be as interesting and entertaining as the servant Orochi has now.

————————————

Annoyance weighs in my chest like an animal locked in a cage, gnawing at my ribs. My Mouse is lying bare because it's degrading. Being denied the basic right to clothing, and forced to lay outside on a chilled spring night, painfully aware of everyone's eyes on her. That is why she's nude. That is why she's wrapped around my head like a Cobra. Not because I care about skin-on-skin contact.

     My teeth snap at her thigh, sinking into the plush flesh waiting for me. A small whimper parts from her, sounding like bells in my ears. My little Mouse tightens her legs around my head, encouraging me to sink my teeth deeper. It doesn't take long for her skin to give in, the sweet nectar of her blood coating my tongue in response. Whimpers waterfall quicker the harder I shove my teeth down, making my groan ache.

     "Orochi," my Pet squeaks, her fingers shaking as they wrap around my hair.

     My jaw relaxes, paired with a sigh pushed out of my nose. Why must I have such a fragile Mouse? My tongue laps at the bite mark I left behind, each of my teeth perfectly outlined in her flesh. The mark is already starting to bruise, the darkening skin mixing with the vibrant red of her blood. I happily lick the liquid up, the taste being my favorite treat. One that I'd happily suck down as much as my Pet sucks down those dango treats I have made for her.

     "Are you hungry?" I mutter, nipping at the perfectly maintained skin around the beautiful proof of me on her leg.

     I'm a lot of things, a lair not being one of them. I don't plan on playing with my Pet until I think she's had her fill outside. But, when I do cash in on my promise, I'll follow it to the last letter. My little Mouse is going to be left broken in my bed. Shaking. Crying. Littered in even more of me. Begging me to fuck her again and then wailing for me to stop because she can't handle it anymore. Left a mental reck as I mock her for her desperation, for so willingly lying herself out for a man that openly admitted to raping her.

     It's my favorite game, fucking my Mouse while she's unconscious. Watching the betrayal and disgust with herself settle into her expression afterward. Forcing her to admit that my "lack of control" was her fault. Seeing her lust and craving for me break her to pieces. Getting to taste the tears rolling down her face as she cries because of her self-betrayal.

     But, I can't focus on that right now. My precious Pet needs nutrition to help recover from the curse that riddled her body. Nutrition so I can enjoy my wanted way of celebrating. After all, there's nothing more beautiful than my broken Mouse in shambles, clinging to me like I'll save her even though she knows I'm the one that snapped her in two.

     "Yes, Orochi."

     My eyes flutter at my name on her lips, my breath hiccuping for a second before I get it back under control. I swear, before Hiruzen's body cools, I'll have my Pet propped on his desk, devouring her like the Lady of the village she is. Soon enough, she'll be a lady of two villages, then the world, like she deserves. Maybe I'll snatch my Sensei's glass globe too. Smash it to pieces and use the shards to make my little Mouse the crown she deserves.

     "Let me feed you then," I murmur, wrapping my fingers around her thigh to tug her into my lap. "As you eat, I'll continue reading to you, Mouse, alright?"

     "Alright, Orochi."

———————————————————————

[corpsebasil]

Tea and Spices - Chapter 2

She knew what he'd come for.

She had seen him eyeing the collection of scales she had lying casually on her desk on her ship, the Lady Anne, the boat was named, and he'd immediately gawked. She sat at her desk, free of makeup, and was sorting through her papers when Sturmhond walked into her office.

"Good morning." She said, watching him take in every inch of the opulent room. He would never admit it, but her ship was much grander than his.

"Hello, Victoria." He greeted, eyes still eating up every inch of the space, before settling on the scales. Grisha would pay a ridiculous amount of money for those amplifiers, and she simply had tossed them onto the desk. "So. Sleep well?"

"What do you want with the scales?" She asked, picking one up. It was a beautiful thing, truly. Her brothers had gone into that cave and, ten minutes later, slain the monster inside. Maybe she'd have the gorgeous material crafted into jewelry or melded onto her sword hilt. "Pretty, though. Maybe if you grovel enough I'll give you one."

"You—" he paused, glancing from them to her. "Your makeup. Why do you do it like that?"

"Is this your form of begging, Captain?"

"No." He smirked, eyeing her with new interest. "But I can assure you, Captain, if I was begging, you'd know." A smirk appeared on her face too, and damn him if she wasn't one of the most stunning women he'd laid eyes upon. He wondered absently what it would like to bed her, then dashed away the thought. "Perhaps we could strike a bargain for one."

"You don't have anything I want, and your coin doesn't matter to me. I have all the money I could want." She told him point blank, but shrugged. "Sit down."

He seemed to balk for a moment at being so casually ordered around, but did, marveling at the comfortable feel of her expensive chair. Her ship seemed like the queen of the sea, compared to his. It stung more than he'd like.

"What about a trade—?" He started, but she waved him off before he could continue.

"Tea first." She said, and rose from her desk.

He watched a she walked past and began fiddling with a pot and cups, fine china that would make his own court weep at its magnificent. Once she'd poured and brought him a cup, a plate now resting in front of hm with pastries that gleamed with frosting and dotted with fruit, he spoke.

"I've been living off pickles the past few weeks." He confessed, picking one up and examining it. "What is this, anyway?"

"A scone." She said. "Blueberry. And yes, your friends told us last night how horrifying your diet has been." She shivered comically. "You pirates have the oddest tendencies."

"Privateer," he corrected, rolling his eyes at her amused look before he bit into the scone. He moaned out loud and her eyebrows shot up. "Saints this is good."

She stared at him for a long beat before she poured the tea, preparing his cup with sugar and milk herself, and he was thrown back by her instant hospitality. He'd known plenty of captains in his life, people of power, and they'd never have poured tea for their guests, themselves. When he took a sip, once again blown away by the deliciousness of the food, she picked up a fascinating device off its holster on her desk and punched around on it for a moment.

"Winston," she said into the device and he stared in surprise. What was that thing? "Have Harry prepare a full English breakfast for the young captain's crew and himself. They've been eating like savages for far too long." She smiled when he stared, eyes wide, and she waited before speaking again. "Yes. Make sure the captain has extra bacon and sausages. Thank you."

When she set the device down back into its place he gestured to it, then picked it up and glanced around it's entirety when she pushed it towards him.

"It's a telephone." She said, cocking that pretty head. Without the wig, her strawberry blonde hair caught the morning sunshine and sparkled over her shoulders. "Don't you have those when you're...in...where are you from?"

"Ravka." He mumbled around a bite, already chugging down his second cup of tea. She offered him a second scone and he devoured it happily. "It's very—good god, woman." He gasped when the door opened and Harry walked in, his appearance much more boyish without makeup than Nikolai had expected, carrying a large tray.

The captain's brother smiled warmly before setting the tray on the desk. For Victoria, he'd made a simple omelette with a side of fruits, and for Nikolai..,.eggs, sausages, beans, bacon, toast, tomatoes...he could've kissed the boy right there, but Harry just mumbled a good morning and left the room.

"I'm going to marry you." He informed her, completely serious, and a loud laugh burst from her mouth at his statement. Everything tasted delicious and once he was done, she offered him some of her own breakfast, as well.

"How kind." She said, raising one brow. "Breakfast in exchange for a marriage proposal? What will you give me for the scales?"

"Anything. All of Ravka." He said, leaning his head back with a sigh.

His eyes were shut, so he didn't see when she picked up three of the scales and set them in front of him, crossing her legs under the table. His eyes were wide as he picked one up, then shot back to her.

"I don't need them all." She purred, voice coy, and he genuinely considered leaning across the table and kissing her. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not interested."

"You are—" he shook his head. "I don't know what to say to you."

"How about 'thanks'?" She offered, reaching over to flick his cheek. "You're welcome to stay with us for a bit until you're ready to leave. God knows the three of us are getting sick of each other. It's like living with our parents again."

"That'd be—" he sighed. "We're kind of in a time crunch, but one night would be very appreciated."

"Good." She smiled, standing, then squeezed his shoulder as she passed. "You can pay me for the scales by entertaining me tonight."

When she'd walked completely away, and he got a full view of the back of her, he was very, very sure he could find a way to keep the captain entertained.

Once again make sure to read on wattpad and like and reblog my posts for more content!!

[sara78]

Family don't end in blood - chapter 7

Summary: Things finally seem to look up for Y/N and she's looking forward to the little break from filming, she's closing in on the first semester and life is just good, but an unexpected appearance threatens to break down everything she's worked on the past months...

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x foster!daughter reader

Word count: very close to 5,000

Warnings: mentions of abuse, protective!Jensen, angst, so much angst, nightmares, Danneel is honestly the only sane person here

Transcription - Y/M/L - your mother language, Y/H/C - your home country

A/N: This is where things start to build up...

You were finally settling into the routine, the filming, school work, life in general. You finally found balance in your everyday life, and you can definitely thank Jensen for helping you with everything that came up along the way.

You were excitedly counting down the days until you get to go back to Austin and be there for the twins' birthday. You haven't been that excited about something in a long time.

But as of now, you, Jensen, Jared, and Misha are walking to get some lunch. Of course, Jared was being Jared and pulled yet another prank on Misha. And of course, taking in the fact how serious y'all are, Richard got sick and tired of y'alls bullshit and sent you to have some lunch and cool off before continuing with filming, for sake of his as much as yours.

"You are a monster!" Misha exclaimed, Jared laughing,

"I can't believe that what, 12 years later, you still fall for his stupid pranks," Jensen said, all three of you giggling as Misha groaned,

"I just might ask craft and supplies to buy me some popcorn for next time, cause you guys are my favorite movie to watch," you laughed, Jensen's phone ringing,

"Oh, it's Dee. Get me some steak and salad, kiddo. I'll catch up with you guys."

"I'm so gonna put something spicy in his meal," Jared giggled evily,

"Jared Tristan Padalecki woke up and chose violence," you said, Misha rolling his eyes,

"That's his default setting, kid," he stated, Jared nudging his arm playfully,

"Oh I love you too," Jared stated, taking his phone out, "I gotta check in with Gen. I'll take my meal when I make it. You keep a seat for me, kid," he said, ruffling your hair and drifting away as well,

"I'll just drop by and give Sarah my trench coat so that she can wash it up since this is not presentable anymore," Misha said, "Keep me a seat too! Preferably as far from Jared as possible," he called out from the distance, making you giggle as you showed him a thumbs-up, leaving to get some food.

While you were walking to the catering, you pulled your phone out to read over all the texts your friend, well, more sister, sent you. The time zones are kind of messing with your friendship but oh well, it's not like she's a night owl anyways, so you get to text very often. You caught up with all the texts from her and swapped to discord, where you had a group of close friends you'd study with whenever you needed company.

As you were walking you bumped into something, or someone. You immediately turned around after bumping into whatever it was, wanting to apologize for being a clumsy idiot if it was a person you bumped into.

But when you lifted your eyes up from the phone, you froze.

"Watch your steps, whore," a voice called you out, making you gulp. You swore you felt all will to live drained from your body and soul right there and now, as you stared at the person you'd never expect to see here. You were speechless, hands shaking as they put the phone back into your pocket. The person smiled at you evily, making your blood run cold, "Awww, what's the matter? Are you scared of your own mom?" you clenched your jaw, all the anger accumulating in you slowly but surely.

If she left from set without a bloody nose she should consider herself lucky. Everything was coming down but you still didn't know what to do. Do you attack, talk back, run away?

"Since when do you speak English? You don't even speak Y/M/L properly."

"I want to show you that everything is possible. Even me learning this filthy language," she began, "To prove you that you could have done exactly the same. You could have studied and become a scientist in Russia and-"

"Did you seriously travel for more than 30 hours just to tell me all of that shit over again?" you asked, huffing a laugh, "I can't believe this. You're still living in the past. I'm done," you pointed out, "I'm done being a puppet you control. I'm done being a punching bag you take all of your anger out on. I'm done being your daughter. I'm done being related to you. For all I know, I shouldn't be talking to a stranger."

"Drop the bullshit, bitch," she spat out,

"No, I'm not gonna drop it. I've had it up to here with you," you said, gesturing, "I'm done being manipulated and controlled, I'm done being beaten and hurt and called out. I don't deserve what you've done to me. You brought me into this world only to blame me for everything that has ever happened and to make me into this robot you control. I'm not supposed to be what you want me to be. I'm supposed to build my own future and make my own choices, whether right or wrong."

"I see you're still blind," she responded, "Me controlling you? How can you stay blind after all these years? I'm giving you a future!"

"A future?" you huffed, "This is my future. For the next few months, this is my future. My future is to finish high school, to make my own choices and be my own person. My future is to heal from everything you've fed me with. But then, you don't know of the term mental health, so you wouldn't know what I'm talking about."

"Stop being a bitch or I make you shut that filthy mouth of yours," she said, taking a step towards you, making you take a step back as you flinched,

"Yeah, that's how you deal with everything. Beat Y/N up. That's the only card you know how to play."

"You little blind bitch. I'm trying to secure your future, to make you successful!"

"And I can't do that by myself, in a branch I choose? I can't be a successful actress, or a video game designer, or a mathematician or a musician? It has to be medicine, biology, whatever the fuck the thing is on your mind? You are not doing anything but wanting to make me into this super famous person so you can show off to others how smart your daughter is. That same daughter you beat behind closed doors. Have you ever bragged about that? How gentle of a mother you are?"

"KIDDO!" Dean Winchester's voice in full swing echoed in the air and you felt a stone rolling off your heart as you saw him run towards you. He immediately grabbed you for your arm and pulled you aside. Though it was rough, it wasn't meant for hurting you, but for quickly moving you back behind him, where you were safe and out of reach for your mother,

"Oh great. The old fuck."

"Who the hell are you?" Jensen asked,

"Oh, you don't know!" your mother exclaimed, taking a step back. You grabbed at Jensen's flannel and pulled him three steps back with you. Jensen looked you in the eye and you must have had such a scared expression that he immediately dropped the attention on your mother and immediately turned to you,

"Kiddo, who is that?"

"My-my mother," you breathed, feeling your chest tighten up, "She's-she's my mother."

It took Jensen one swift motion to pick you up and settle you on his hip, same way Dean did to your character numerous of times before,

"You're safe. As long as my arms are around you, you're safe. I promise," he whispered.

You couldn't do much but lean your head against his shoulder as you tried to take deep breaths and not go into a panic attack,

"I want you to leave," Jensen spoke up, turning to face your mother, "You have no business being here. Go your own way."

"Oh, but she is my business," your mother spoke up. You shook your head and Jensen squeezed you tighter,

"Oh, look how gentle and soft you are with her. That's how you raise a whiny bastard. My methods haven't worked quite well, unfortunately, as she's still a whiny little bitch."

"Yeah, when you beat your daughter up with whatever comes to hand she craves for a soft touch, something that won't hurt her," he responded,

"What I was doing was raising a strong independent woman. Now, only thing I have left is to kick that bitchy attitude out of her and make her into a scientist so she can finally contribute to this family and be useful for once."

"Oh no, you're not coming near her," Jensen shook his head, "You aren't taking her anywhere."

"Oh sweetie, that's not your decision to make. Besides, I have no problem showing you a few moves I've used on her. I'm sure she'll obey after she revises them with me."

"No," you spoke up, Jensen still holding you tightly, "You're not going to hurt him."

"You be a grown-up and talk to your mother!" she exclaimed. You looked at Jensen, nodding. He gulped, letting you down but tightly holding you, your back pressing against his chest, "Now, about the parenting preferences. Don't you have three kids of your own? You should start using some belt on them if you want them to grow up strong and independent."

"Oh you don't tell me how to raise my children," Jensen growled, "I'm never going to hurt my kids. Whatever they do, I'd never hurt them."

"Oh, you're making a big mistake."

"Yeah, whatever makes you sleep better at night," he responded, "Children cannot in any way be responsible for whatever is happening in your life. Yes, they might break a glass, shatter a window, spill milk, crack their head open, but they are never doing things on purpose and when mistakes happen, you talk to them. You don't 'cure it' with a belt."

"Please, as far as I can tell, Y/N's grateful for my parenting preferences. Right?" you gulped,

"What's going on here?" Misha's voice rang, your mom groaning,

"You fuckers don't know what manners are, do you?" she asked, turning around to face Misha, "Don't interrupt a lady when she talks," Misha looked at her and Jensen was fast to drop on his knees and turn you to face him. You heard Misha talk back but all you were focused on was Jensen,

"Kiddo, hey, you're safe," he told you and you nod, "She's not gonna come near you. Did she hit you?" you shook your head, "You sure?" you nod, "Okay, that's good. How did she find you?"

"I-I don't know. I bumped into her when-when I was walking to-to get food," you stammered,

"Okay, we'll take care of it. Do you trust me?" you nod, "Good. Now, I'm here, and so is Mish, Jared will stumble up here as well. You're safe. We won't let her get you. Okay?" you nod again and he stood up, both returning to the pose you had before Misha showed up.

You could now tell Misha was in a heated argument with your mother.

"STOP!" Jensen exclaimed, Misha moving to stand right next to you. It seemed like he realized who she was and he took a protective pose in front of you as well.

"You know what, I should have hit you harder," your mother spoke, Misha gulping as he looked down to you for a second before looking back up,

"Yeah, mother of the year right here people!" he shot back,

"She's a sixteen year old child. She's got all the rights to be loved and to want a hug and to feel safe. Every single person, no matter their age, should be granted as much."

"She can't even do the right thing to save her life! That's where your gentle parenting bullshit leads. Now, I'm sure she's pretty useless here. Might as well hand it back to me."

"She's not an it," Jensen growled,

"Yeah!" Jared's voice rang and you turned around just in time for him to voluntarily pick you up and settle you on his hip, "She's our kid! So you might as well drop whatever plans you have with her because you'll have to walk over our dead bodies to get her."

"Wow," your mother huffed, "So despearate in need of a dad, you found three! But you never once cared about me, did you? I had to be alone for my entire life because of you! You drove your father away and I never got to be loved!"

"I was never responsible for anything that happened between you two," you yelled out, "Why didn't you abort me if he already didn't want me and you knew he was going to kick you out?"

"Well, I figured to make up for it by making you into a successful scientist and then we can go to him and-"

"So that is your brilliant plan? Rub it in? Do you understand that he has a wife and a daughter he loves. He doesn't care about you or me. And I'm sorry you went through that, but you had options and you chose to give birth to me. I had nothing to do with you and him. I was born and instead of being loved, I was all these years used as a puppet in your master plan of rubbing it in to him."

"What is it that you want?" Misha asked, obviously missing some context,

"Well, that idiot there is coming with me or she's going to suffer."

"I ain't letting her go," Jared spoke up, "So you might as well cross that off your to-do list and reschedule it for never."

"You've got a chance to fix all this," your mother warned you, "I won't beat you hard too."

"No," you spoke, "I'm happy where I'm standing right now and I'm not coming with you."

"Well, you had your choice. I can't wait to see you suffer," she responded, "The exact same way you made me suffer."

"She made you suffer? Because she wants to live her own life, make her own decisions? Or is it because she wants to be loved and cared for?"

"Don't you want what's best for your child?" she countered,

"We all do," Jared said, "But your definition of best seems to drift off from ours."

"We want our children to have a good life. But we don't dictate them," Jensen began, "We don't plan it all out for them. We let them be kids, let them play, learn, enjoy life, fuck up and slam against the wall and help them get back up. They are never going to have a plan they so blindly have to follow. What you wanted to do to Y/N, it's not fair. It's inhumane."

"Why won't you shut that ugly mouth of yours or I make you," she threatened, huffing, "No wonder you fit so well. Shit goes with more shit."

"You keep them out of your dirty mouth," you growled, "You wanna trash talk about me? Do it. Make the whole universe hear how bad of a daughter I am. But you don't dare talk about them like that. You don't know them."

"Oh, and you do? They'll just use you to get popular and then throw you out. That's when it'll hit you and you'll beg to come back," her mother began, "But I won't take you in then. You have one chance, and it's now."

"No."

Your mother gasped, fully not expecting the answer even though she's been given the same answer multiple times,

"W-What?"

"I said no," you repeated, "I told you I'm done. I'm not coming with you. This is where I stand, and I like it here. I'm done with you and your plans for me, for revenge on my father. It's over," you said, "We were getting lunch, guys," you spoke, the three nodding and walking away, brushing past your mother, but not without resistance. She jumped at you, presumably, but Jensen was in the way and had no problem grabbing her and pulling her away while Jared moved quickly, still holding you in his arms and Misha bolted, probably for security.

"You are not," he began, locking arms around her, her long nails scratching his skin, "Going to," he picked her up, "Come near my kid," he took a step back, "Ever again." he growled in her ear, dragging the two of them away, "You wanna make her suffer?" Jensen asked, letting her mother go and she immediately maintained a safe distance from him, "Huh? You wanna make a little kid suffer?" he repeated, your mother bolting to attack him again, long nails managing to get to his face before he grabbed her wrists, "Bad idea. Cause if you touch her, you have a lot of people breathing on your neck. And I am the first one," he said, going into her face. Only thing your mother could do is hysterically scream into Jensen's face until the security showed up and they dragged her away.

As soon as she's being dragged away, Jensen is running to you and Jared and you caught Misha with the corner of your eye. You couldn't be fooled, as all three had terrified expressions on their face,

"She's okay," Jared spoke up as soon as Jensen was within arms length. He took you from Jared's arms and hugged you tightly. You couldn't do much but return the hug and let both of you calm down from your high.

"How did she get through the security?" Misha spoke up,

"She-She probably paid her way in," you responded, going to hug Misha and then Jared, "I'm sorry for causing a scene."

"There's nothing to apologize for, munckhin," Jared shook his head as he squeezed you tightly, giving you one of his famous moose hugs,

"I scared you. All three of you," you responded, looking back at Jensen, "And she hurt you too."

"What's important is that she didn't hurt you," Jensen responded, smiling weakly for you, "Don't apologize. You didn't pick your mother."

"But still-"

"Don't," Misha shook his head, "We're all okay. And Jensen's right. What matters is that you're not hurt."

"What in the ever-loving fuck happened?!" Richard exclaimed as he walked up to you,

"My mother somehow managed to break through the security."

"She's fucking mental!" he exclaimed, "Are you guys okay?"

"More or less," Jensen responded,

"Oh man, get someone to clean that up," Rich frowned, "Listen, if she broke through the security that means we have a rat somewhere around."

"I'll fire the current security and ask Cliff to make me a list of most trusted ones," Jensen said, "I'll set it all up."

"But until that's set up, we're taking a break," Richard said, "I gotta look around people here too. I don't know who she might be working with. I'll need time."

"Guys, really, you don't have to-"

"All of our safety is compromised with that mental bitch loose. Yes, she'll be held for 72 hours or something, and yes we'll press charges, but whatever is the outcome, I have to go through all these people. I have to work with people I know are safe. I don't want insane parents breaking into the set and murders happening, and neither do Jensen and Danneel."

"But we'll fall back with filming," you pointed out,

"We'll be fine. Filming is postponed until February 1st. We have a few episode waiting for production. I order y'all to go home and take a break. You heard me kiddie?" you nod, looking down, not expecting Richard to come up and hug you, "Hey, I'm not mad at you. I can't be mad at you. She's the mental idiot, not you. I'm just glad you're safe."

"Thanks," you whispered, returning the hug,

"Don't thank me. Now go home, all of you."

The first thing Jensen did as he opened the door to his trailer was lead you to the couch and grab a bottle of water sitting on the counter, handing it to you. You took it quietly, your head bowing down.

"Kiddo," he whispered, crouching in front of you, "Kiddo, look at me," he tried but you shook your head.

How can I look at you? I put you in danger. I shouldn't be here.

"Kiddo, this isn't on you."

You gulped.

Of course he knew what's going on in your head. Of course he knew you'd be blaming yourself. And you still couldn't wrap your head around the fact that nobody is blaming you.

But then, they might be as well lying to you.

"We're going back to Austin," he stated and you shook your head,

"I'm not going."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not," you began, finally looking up, "She's going to be out in 72 hours. She's coming after me. Save yourself and go. I'll find a place here and keep quiet until we return to film."

"No," Jensen shook his head, "You're coming with me. You're way safer in Austin than here. Either we both go or we both stay."

"Jensen-"

"No," he said sternly, "I'm not leaving you here."

"Jensen, you heard her. Are you seriously willing to sacrifice the safety of your family just for one person?"

"Yes," he responded, taking you back with it, "Cliff is in Austin. I'll ask him to watch over our place."

"Jensen you don't know her and the lengths she's ready to go. Just let her have her way with me and she'll be gone when she's done."

"Not knowing how far she can go is the exact thing I'm scared of," he pointed out, "You're coming. We're gonna keep you safe, and we'll have fun and think of how to get rid of her, besides suing her."

"I don't want to sue her," you spoke up, Jensen now confused, "I just want her to go back to Y/H/C as soon as possible. Besides, she's most likely not going to show up at the court anyways."

"Okay, but Chaos Machine is suing her, so she'll have some problems up her ass," Jensen said, "Now, we'll go home and pack. We need time to figure things out and if nothing, I'll feel better if all my kids are within arms reach."

"And that's exactly what I meant when I said I don't want to come. I want you to be safe. I want them to be safe. Jensen, I can't afford to be close to you now."

"She can be the queen of England and I still wouldn't give a flying fuck. She's not going to hurt me, nor you nor anyone."

"Y-You can't promise me that, Jense."

"You're scared of her," Jensen sighed, "Which is completely okay. But you're forgetting something. That is, you have me. You have Jared, Misha, you have Dee and little ones back in Austin. We're not going to let her win, kiddo."

"She will win. I know she will. Jense, she has ways and mind twisted like no one else. How far she's ready to go to make someone suffer..."

"Well she isn't counting on you having us and she sure as hell doesn't know I'd go even further to protect you, so she can stick it up where the Sun shines," Jensen said, kissing your temple, "Let's just pack up and go home."

12 hours later

When you step out of the car you are greeted by Danneel's arms wrapping around you to give you a hug. Your brain is such a wreck that you don't even flinch. You just return the hug numbly, everything in your head just too much to handle. Jensen gets a hug as well and you follow the two to the living room where they sit you down.

"Honey, you're safe here. She's not going to come near you again," Danneel tried to assure you,

"I shouldn't be here," you whispered, "I should go to a motel or something. I'm putting you in danger. How can you not see?" you asked, looking up with tears in your eyes, "I don't want to put you in danger. I don't want to put the kids in danger. Why aren't you getting rid of me?"

"Because you're family," Danneel responded, "No matter what she does, we'll go through it together."

"I shouldn't have left you alone," Jensen murmured, totally out of the current conversation,

"No," you spoke up, standing up to go after him after he began walking up and down the room, grabbing his hand and stopping him to look at you, "You don't do that. You don't blame yourself. It's not your fault she's insane."

"It's neither of yours fault," Danneel corrected you as she approached you, "So stop blaming yourselves. She's her own person, she has her own brain with questionable thoughts in it and you cannot in any way make her do anything because she's calling the shots. Now you," she turned to Jensen, grabbing his other hand, "I know you'd probably wipe Y/N from her mother's memories if you'd had the chance to, but you can't. So don't blame yourself for something that you didn't see coming. You can't see into the future. And you," she turned to you, "You're just a child and you're not at fault for having a crazy mother. So don't eat yourself over what happened and don't think about what's to come either. Whatever happens has its own reasons why and we'll go through it together, like a family. Now, I think a nice, warm bath will help you relax. What do you think?" you nod,

"Thanks," you whispered, looking at Jensen who wore the famous 'Dean feels guilty for something he had no control over' face. You shook his hand and he looked down at you, "It's okay."

When you're done with your bath, Danneel was waiting for you with a cup of hot cocoa,

"Here's something to warm up a little before going to sleep."

"I can't sleep."

"I know. I think Jensen's right there with you," she responded, opening the door to their bedroom where Jensen was seated against the headboard, playing with the blanket over him, "How about you two have some alone time and in the morning you'll fill me up?" she said and Jensen nod, taking your hand in his and sitting you down next to him,

"Thanks honey," he whispered, Danneel smiling as she leaned down to kiss his lips,

"Don't thank me," she smiled, planting a kiss to your temple as well before walking away and closing the door behind her.

The two of you sat in pure silence. You didn't know what to say, what could you possibly say to make this whole situation better. You knew Jensen wasn't going to get rid of you, and as much as you appreciated it, part of you really wanted to go and keep him and his family safe.

And Jensen obviously had problems forming sentences since all he did was hug you tightly. And you'd lie if you said you didn't need it. Everything he did the past 24 hours, he and Jared and Misha. You didn't think a loving touch could make all the worst things hurt a little less.

You didn't even realize you were crying until Jensen shushed you gently, assuring you that it's okay to cry. You were so unaware of your own body, surroundings, everything. This all put you back to square one, at the bottom of the hill again. You didn't know how were you going to climb up to the top this time. You didn't think you had energy in you.

"That's what that feeling was," he murmured, "Like you felt her coming, but you didn't know it was her."

"I wish I knew," you responded, sniffling, "I-I wish I knew so I could have avoided her. I'm scared."

"I know, and that's completely okay. We'll keep you safe. She won't get you."

The very next thing you know is you're jumping awake from a nightmare, panting and sweating.

"Kiddo, you're safe," Jensen spoke up, making you whip your head around and gasp at the scars on his face, "You're safe."

"She-she hurt you," you breathed, "No."

"Kiddo, you gotta breathe," Jensen tried, getting ahold of your shoulders, "Look me in the eye and follow my breathing. In. Out."

After a few minutes you came down from your high, still staring at Jensen,

"What was it about?"

"She... She hurt you," you breathed, tears welling up in your eyes, "She-she hit you. Same way she hit me. And-and I was there but I-I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't move, I couldn't do anything."

"Shit kiddo," Jensen breathed, "I'm safe. I'm okay. She didn't hurt me. It was just a bad dream. I promise I'm fine. Okay?" you nod, looking down, "Here, drink some water," he handed you the bottle and you gladly took it, downing the content in record time, "You need to take it easy these next few days, okay? No school or anything. You have to put yourself first."

"How do I do that?" you breathed,

"We'll do it together. We still have a few days before the twins birthday. We'll help Dee set it all up and we'll do a lot of movie nights and play and talk. Okay?" you nod, "I think the kids are up. Wanna go say hi to your favorite Ackles?" you smiled,

"Sure."

[deathsplaything]

LOCATION: The Sugar Pot TIMING: Current PARTIES: Alistair & Booker (@detectivefinlee) SUMMARY: Booker goes back to the Sugar Pot to get some tea and hang around. Lucky for him, Alistair is working the counter.

“If I may… what makes a person jump from pharmacology to tea, doctor?”

He had been to this tea shop once already with his kids, just a few days ago. They had struggled through convincing their father which teas he ought to buy as loose leaf to keep at home: the point being that they were supposed to be caffeine free and relaxing, but of course he was immediately drawn to all the black teas. The floral ones sounded so… well… not really his thing. But he had relented, allowing them to make the choices for him while he planned to come back another day and at least get a cup of that masala chai stuff. That had smelled nice. 

Stepping into the Sugar Pot alone today, Booker felt a small smile creeping on him and quickly cleared his throat to dismiss it. No need to be grinning like a fool when there wasn't even anyone with him he could blame as having told a good joke. The place was cozy, and it was the local crafts on display that had triggered such a muted but present reaction from the older man. He loved crafts. He wasn't very good at many of them, but he enjoyed picking up little knick knacks from local artists to set on his mantle and among his books on their shelves. Fingers dove into the pocket of his jacket, alighting upon the small, needle felted barn owl that waited patiently for its turn to be left someplace where someone else could find it. That was the one thing he'd found he did have talent for, and at the behest of Amos and Avery, the detective had pursued the hobby. He'd been at it for about ten years now, and while he'd never made any money off of it (that wasn't his goal), he did like carrying a few with him any time he went out and leaving them in odd places. He didn't usually witness their discovery, but on the rare occasion when he did, it always brought a smile to his face. 

Wandering among the crafts for a few minutes before making his way slowly to the counter, he shifted his attention from the products to the people, analyzing them without meaning to. Not just the employees, but the other patrons as well. There was a man in the corner who wore a suit and sat with his laptop open in front of him, looking overworked and undervalued. Booker wondered if he had ever looked like that man. Probably. His hazel gaze flitted from one person to the next, his mind picking up and storing little tidbits of information as it went. Finally, he let his focus settle on the person at the counter. “... ah. I've forgotten the name of it,” he admitted with a soft, breathy chuckle. “It was the black, spicy tea. Started with an M, I think?” A movement caught his eye and he glanced to the side to see someone else striding out from behind a curtain that separated the shop from its back rooms. “Sorry, don't mean to be a bother. I'll just have a cup of whatever you recommend. For here.”

—

Standing behind the counter while Melody did inventory in the back, Alistair was rather confident in his abilities to get things done despite his lack of eyesight. With Melody, the pair were able to create a space that was accommodating for Alistair, to be able to work despite his disability. He loved it there for that reason, that he could truly never hate his job despite what he did before. He perked up at the sound of footsteps coming in through the front (they had the front door open on account of the beautiful weather). He waited patiently as the customer walked about the store, and Alistair took a moment to look through Brutus’s eyes, who was peering over at the newcomer, though kept his head down on his front paws, debating on drifting back to sleep. The man was taller and had his gaze fixed on the artisan crafts Melody had adamant that they sell to support local artists.

Alistair severed the connection the moment that Brutus closed his eyes again. No need to force the pup to work when he was content on relaxing and dozing off. The footsteps neared Alistair, and the redhead snapped to attention, his unseeing gaze settling on looking at the man as soon as he spoke, indicating where his mouth roughly was. “Well that’s not a problem,” Alistair decided with a soft tilt of his head to the side, a friendly smile crossing his features from the normal stoic expression he was so keen on wearing. He heard the back door close softly, which meant Melody was no longer in the back. She gave a pleasant smile to Booker before joining Alistair behind the counter to help him make whatever it was the customer decided to order.

“So you like black teas, and you like it spicy. Might I challenge your love for spiced black teas and introduce you to a Saigon chai? It’s black tea from India, and has cinnamon, ginger, pink peppercorns, cardamom, and cloves with some vanilla and cinnamon flavoring.” He tapped his fingers as he listed off the ingredients. It was popular with a lot of people who visited the shop, Mack included. It was obvious upon speaking to Alistair that he took tea rather seriously. Through knowing what flavors might work based on people’s desired tastes and listing ingredients that would work together, Alistair had it figured out. He was proud of what he did, despite it not being pharmaceuticals. He could still use it, kind of. There were herbs they sold that helped with certain ailments that people sought him out for. 

“But if I couldn’t challenge what it is you’re clearly after, which is the masala chai…” He made a little face, then nodded his head, setting to work on making the masala chai that the stranger was after. “Masala chai has cardamom, ginger, cinnamon, black pepper, and cloves. But if it’s true spice you’re after, some of our customers like it when I add red pepper flakes to it.” These customers, of course, Alistair had sussed out as zombies. He wasn’t so sure that this customer was among them or not, and nor did he really care. Melody watched Alistair as he flitted about the space, picking up a mug, grabbing the spices needed and depositing them into a tea bag, then adding the hot water and steamed milk into the mug and turning around to present it to the customer. “Masala chai, no red pepper flakes,” Alistair announced with a tight smile. “Though I will have to show you that Saigon chai sometime.”

—

Booker listened intently as the other person spoke, explaining to him the difference between these teas (he hadn’t realized there was more than one kind of ‘spicy’ tea, though it seemed a foolish thing in retrospect), committing what was said to memory. Before he could answer on whether or not he’d like to challenge his palette (which was pretty nonexistent when it came to tea, anyway), they were going about making the masala instead of the saigon, speaking all the while. He had noticed the way their gaze had not fallen on him until he spoke, and he noticed now the way in which they moved, the way in which the whole place was arranged, and of course, the dark lenses indoors—the most telling piece of evidence. He made a mental note to be conscientious of that.

“Fascinating,” Booker interjected softly. “I never would have thought to put something like that in tea, of all things.” He accepted the drink when it was offered, his gaze jumping between the two strangers as an easy smile flitted across his grizzled features. “Is that how you get people to come back? Tell them about all the things they could be enjoying while making them something else?” It was clear by his tone and the grin he wore that he wasn’t upset or offended by it, but rather amused. “Smart tactic. I’d love to try that Saigon chai some time.” Fishing out his wallet, Booker paid for the drink (at which point the woman intervened), then returned his attention to them both, addressing them at the same time. “A pleasure to meet you both. I’m Detective Finlee. Booker, to be less formal about it.” It wasn’t a matter of pride that encouraged him to introduce himself as such, but rather his way of cracking open that door that so many people kept tightly shut all their lives, thanks to a general lack of trust in authority figures. Not that he was particularly authoritative, neither in personality or responsibility, but still. If someone he met had a problem or concern or knew something that they wanted to share but felt they could not, he wanted to present himself as someone they could reach out to. “Just moved to town.” He paused, squinting his eyes for a moment as he recalled an earlier online conversation. “... I don’t suppose this is the establishment that was being asked to serve shrimp broth, was it?”

—

Alistair smirked as Booker called them out on how they suggested similar items. It was something they often did with people who seemed eager to learn, more to help them expand their horizons than to get them to come back. Still, it often worked out that they came back anyway. “A detective indeed,” Alistair replied with a knowing smile creeping over their lips. “A pleasure to meet you, Booker,” Alistair spoke with a nod of his head in the direction of the man’s voice. “If we’re using fancy titles, I’m Dr. Alistair McKenzie, a former pharmacist turned tea maker.” They waved a hand towards the sets of apothecary shelves. “Hence the overall aesthetic of the shop.” They explained with a simple shrug. 

“This here is Melody, my lovely partner in crime.” They nudged Melody, who simply gave a bright smile toward Booker, waving a hand. “Just moved here, hm?” Alistair thought for a moment, then remembered the conversation they’d had online with someone who had just arrived in town and gotten the attention of the shrimp cult. “Ah, yes. I remember you now.” Alistair spoke, and nodded their head slowly, fingers pressed against their chin. “A pleasure to meet you in person, I will not be serving you shrimp broth no matter how much you beg.” Alistair’s voice was easy and chipper despite the strong detestation against shrimp tea.

“So you’re a detective with the police then?” Alistair asked casually, suddenly, more than ever, aware of what they had done in the backroom of their shop. “Fancy title, that.” Alistair picked up the discarded rag to begin to wipe down the countertop to keep their hands busy while Melody slipped toward the back of the store, allowing the two to speak without getting in their way. Alistair hardly showed interest in talking to strangers, and she desperately wanted them to make a single friend, she was desperate.

Before Alistair could open their mouth to speak again, Brutus was getting up from his spot in the corner, stretching and letting out a big yawn, then trotted over to Alistair, tail wagging, nosing their hand to let them know that he was awake and ready to help. “Oh, and this is Brutus, he’s my eyes.” They patted the top of Brutus’s head, then slipped their slender hand through the lead of the harness. 

—

Booker laughed, shaking his head. “Dang, and I really had my heart set on some shrimp broth… ah well, suppose I’ll live.” He watched Alistair wipe down the counter while sampling the tea he’d been handed. “Mm, yeah. Currently off duty, but that’s subject to change at a moment’s notice. The more I learn about this town,  the more worried I am about my free time.” There was a pause as he took another sip of his tea, then glanced down at the mug. “Oh, that’s… good, actually,” he admitted, somewhat surprised. “Sorry, nothing against you, I’ve just always been more of a… coffee guy. But… trying new things.” 

He glanced around the place again, gaze falling on the dog as it walked up to its owner, who introduced them. “Hey, Brutus. Handsome fella, aren’t you?” There was a questioning rattling around in his head, and after the dog looked at him and chuffed, he felt compelled to ask it. 

“If I may… what makes a person jump from pharmacology to tea, doctor?”

—

Alistair hummed in response to the man’s apparent disappointment with no shrimp broth, rolling their eyes playfully. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m sure there are plenty of places around that would be more than happy to serve you soup.” Alistair lowered their head with a raised brow as if trying to make a point. “Tea and soup, while both hot liquids are not the same. I’ll die on this hill.” Their playful annoyance turned to a genuine smile as their work was complimented. “I’m glad you think so,” they responded. “Though between you and me? I’m also more of a coffee person.” They spoke it in a whisper as if such a statement were sacrilegious. And when working in a tea shop, it certainly was.

“Your doctor tell you to lay off the coffee? That seems to be the biggest reason for coffee people to step foot into my shop,” Alistair remarked with a smirk, crossing their arms over their chest after discarding the rag on the countertop. Brutus was busy wagging his tail a mile a minute at the compliment from the stranger, seemingly happy to be acknowledged. “Brutus, suidhe,” Alistair commanded, and the dog sat down, tail still wagging.

Then, the man asked the question that everyone seemed to want to know. It wasn’t a hurtful question, he was well within his rights to ask it. Still, every time he was asked, it stung a bit, a sinking feeling in his chest. “Turns out they don’t let you continue to be a pharmacist when you can’t see anything,” Alistair explained, waving a hand in front of their eyes for emphasis. “Melody had a mission to open a tea shop, and I decided I could use my knowledge of herbalism to put towards good use, that way not everything was lost.” They shrugged a shoulder as if the question didn’t bother them nearly as much as it did. 

—

So it wasn’t something the tea sommelier was born with, but rather an injury that came later in life. Late enough for them to have already had an established career as a pharmacist that got ripped away from them. ��Sorry to hear that,” he apologized, recognizing that it might’ve been an insensitive thing to ask. He couldn’t help himself, sometimes. Sensitivity was not something he often had the luxury of affording in his day to day work. “There’s always a push for more accessibility, but I guess it makes sense that some things just require certain senses we don’t all possess. A shame.” He paused to take another sip of the tea, shaking his head as he lowered the mug again. “For whatever it’s worth, which I suspect isn’t much, I don’t think everything’s been lost. If you can get an old stuck-in-his-ways curmudgeon like me to enjoy tea, I’d say you’re doing something very right.” 

The man scanned the shop again, spotting an open table by a street-facing window. “Well. I’m going to have myself a sit at the window seat over there with this perfectly un-pepper-flaked tea, but if you find yourself with time and a desire for conversation… my afternoon is free.” All he intended to do that day was loiter in the shop and work on a felted fox that was kept securely inside a tin tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket. After politely excusing himself, the detective made his way to the table and took out his felting tin, setting the little half-finished fox in front of him and rooting around through his materials for a few moments before resuming his project. 

—

It was hard to get Alistair to give someone a genuine smile, but Booker? He’d done it. Before Alistair could process what was happening, a soft smile curled across their features, warm and inviting despite how hard the necromancer tried to appear anything but. This person, whoever he was, decided that Alistair was worth their talents and that not everything was wasted because they were good at what they did. People didn’t go out of their way to tell them that, and it was very much appreciated. “Your words are kind and very much appreciated,” Alistair spoke in response, nodding their head once. 

It was a rare opportunity that Alistair had a chance to make a friend, to sit down and talk with someone close in age. Most people that came in were either elder spellcasters looking for ingredients for a spell, or young people looking to get their fix of the latest tea. And there was Booker, inviting them to join him. Melody finally looked up from her counting in the back of the store and made her way to the counter, whispering to Alistair to go make a friend for once that wasn’t her and Tommy. Alistair grumbled something unintelligible but discarded the rag onto the counter and sauntered over to sit across from Booker. 

Something about Booker brought back that gentle side of Alistair that they kept locked away tightly, that this was someone that they could trust and befriend, even if they hadn’t allowed themselves to do so in quite some time. Brutus trotted over to his companion, laying down at Alistair’s feet to let the spellcaster know that he was there. That’s where they would sit, slipping in between conversation and comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s company.  It was something that Alistair wasn’t afforded, thought they would never be allowed to have again, a companion in someone else. A friendship where they thought friendship wouldn’t be allowed after losing all that they’d lost. But Booker? Booker opened up a piece of the necromancer they’d long thought lost, a piece of them that was kind and considerate, that wanted to have a friend and someone to spend time with. That’s what they’d learned that day, that maybe, just maybe, not all hope was lost.

[true-north-equestrian]

TES Rescue & Rehabilitation Program

True North Equestrian

Week 1 (Pt. 1) - Miracle of Miracles

When Pidge signed up to be a part of the Rescue & Rehabilitation program, she'd been prepared for a lot of things.  Given this was her first rescue, she'd spent weeks researching and reaching out to others within the community for advice. She knew that this wouldn't be as heartwarming as the Buzzfeed videos liked to pretend - they could see anything from severe neglect to fear-based aggression, and recovery would take weeks if not months. She knew this. She'd committed to it. She'd stepped out to run a few errands, and figured she'd have time to get back to True North before the 'delivery'. When Oskar's name popped up on her phone, she just assumed the drivers just got there early and that her stable manager would get their new arrival settled. What Oskar said, though, made her heart stop. "Sweetheart, I need you to meet me at the vet right now. She's here, and- honey, it's not good." Pidge dropped her shopping and bolted.

Week 1 submission for the Rescue & Rehabilitation Program event at @theequestriansims &lt;3

The drive to the vet took an eternity and yet, in the blink of an eye, she was there. Oskar's truck was already parked there, as was the delivery trailer. What was going on?

 She burst into the stable block and found Oskar waiting for her. Behind him, the vet and a group of techs swarmed one of the open stalls. At first, Pidge thought it was empty - and then she spotted the mud-caked legs of the saddest creature she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Pidge- Pidge, hon, look at me," Oskar said, and she tore her eyes away to look up at him. "She collapsed on the way in. The vet thinks she's got a raging infection of some kind. They're gonna try and get her up again, but- she's in really rough shape. She… We might need to prepare for the worst." Pidge hadn't even met her, but her heart was already breaking for the mare currently in that stall. Bless Oskar for trying to soften the blow, but it did nothing to alleviate the grief and fear gripping her throat in a vice. 

 She kept back, waiting anxiously as the vet and his team did his work. Finally, things began to settle down, and Doc turned towards her. He was an old man, wrinkles lining his face, but his mind was sharp and he was dedicated to his craft, and she knew he was doing all he could.

"We've got her stable, Pidge," Doc told her, "From what I can tell, she's got a massive infection. I've got her on antibiotics and painkillers, which should start kicking in pretty quick. She's got a hell of a gash on her knee, and her feet- in all my years, I haven't seen feet as bad as that." She'd known Doc all her life, and she'd never seen him look so grave. "Can't tell much more 'till the bloodwork comes back, but- this is gonna be touch and go." One gnarled hand settled on her shoulder. "Kid, I'm not gonna lie to you. It'll be a miracle if she lasts the night. We're gonna do our best, but- Well. It's up to her, now." "I'll stay the night," Pidge said, feeling numb. Her eyes drifted back to the mud-caked legs of her newest charge. "If… If she does go, I don't want her to be alone. I'll keep out of the way, I promise." "Okay," Doc said, nodding. There was no point in arguing with her. He moved off to talk to Oskar, probably about the logistics of everything. That was probably for the best - he was the one in charge of financials, anyways. Finally, finally, she got her first good look at the rescue. The poor thing was laid out on her side, legs akimbo. Her chest rose and fell, labored but steady. Her hooves were so overgrown that they'd started to bend backwards. She was covered in so much dirt that Pidge couldn't even tell what color she was. "Oh, baby," Pidge sighed. She edged around the stall, moving slowly, carefully, until she could sit by the poor mare's head. The mare didn't so much as twitch, as if she didn't even know Pidge was there. With a trembling hand, Pidge began to gently stroke her face.

 She didn't know quite what possessed her to start singing. Maybe it was her aching heart, longing to give comfort to a creature the world had failed. Maybe it was because it was because the mare was just so quiet, so lifeless. Or maybe it was because she was already hopelessly attached, despite the situation being so dire. The poor horse in front of her deserved kindness… even if it was the final kindness of a gentle lullaby. Everything was up to her now.

"Little bird, little Chavaleh, I don't understand what's happening today… Everything is all a blur…"

--- Doc was right about the long night. She wasn't quite sure when she dozed off, but the soft whuff of air across her face made her jerk awake with a half-aborted snore. Blearily, she looked up at the dark shape looming over her… and gasped "Oh my God-…!" The mare was on her feet. The mare had made it through the night. Not only that, the mare was looking at Pidge with cautious curiosity, as if she wasn't quite sure where this disheveled human had even come from.  Pidge scrambled to her knees and cautiously extended her hands. After one breathless moment, the mare leaned forward to press her nose into Pidge's palms. "I knew you could do it," She whispered to the mare, gazing into the rich brown eyes of the animal before her. "Little bird… Little Chavaleh…"