#dancing through the fields they’re bones!!

[911birds]

breaking the bt chain

[favefandomimagines]

Back in the Saddle (t.o)

Request: @glenxjesse “I was wondering if I could request a Tyler Owen/reader. Where reader fell off her horse and got pretty badly injured with a concussion and a shattered heel bone and needed surgery and Tyler takes time off of wrangling to take care of her while she’s laid up, making sure she has everything she needs and carrying her around to different rooms because she hates her crutches and he’s worried about her falling again, also comforting her at night when the pain is really bad and she can’t sleep. Last year I fell off my horse with those exact injuries and I just feel like Tyler would be the most attentive, comforting boyfriend. Thank you! Please feel free to change whatever you want! And if you don’t want to write it I understand as well! Hope you’re doing well! Love your writing by the way!”

AN: I am SO SORRY this took me so long!!! Life got in the way and I totally forgot! I hope you all enjoy some Tyler Owens fluff!

Summary: Tyler puts his storm chasing on hold to take care of Y/N after a horse riding accident and there’s no where else he’d rather be.

Tyler’s boots scuffed the dirt as he moved slowly across the ranch, his broad hat shielding him from the unforgiving late afternoon sun. The sky stretched vast and blue, with a hint of dark clouds building on the horizon, the kind that usually sent him chasing after the storms in his beat-up red truck.

But today wasn’t like most days. He wasn’t tracking any storms or watching the sky for funnels with Boone. Today, he was watching over Y/N.

Y/N sat on the porch, her right leg elevated and wrapped in a thick cast. Her face, normally flushed with color from riding her horse under the big sky, was pale. The pain was evident in her tight grip on the armrest of the chair. A concussion and a shattered heel—the doctor had said it could’ve been worse when she fell off her horse, but to Tyler, it already felt like a nightmare.

She had to have surgery to repair her foot and her recovery time is 3-4 months. Which for Tyler felt like an eternity. Afraid something else could wrong while she wasn’t mobile enough to protect herself.

He walked up to her, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. "You need anything?" His voice was soft, like a breeze passing through the fields, but beneath it was a current of concern.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes heavy with the exhaustion of pain and sleepless nights. "I’m fine, really. Just... tired of these stupid crutches. My arms are killing me."

Tyler crouched beside her, his face level with hers. "I know it’s hard, darlin’. But you gotta take it easy for a bit. The crutches are a pain, but they’re helping you heal."

She let out a huff, frustrated. "I hate being stuck here. You should be out chasing storms, Tyler. Not babysitting me."

"Hey," Tyler said firmly, but his smile softened the edge in his voice. "This ain’t babysitting. This is takin’ care of you. And I wouldn’t be anywhere else."

Her lips quirked into a small smile, though she tried to hide it. "I don’t want to hold you back."

"You ain’t holdin’ me back, baby. I’d miss a hundred storms if it meant bein’ here with you. Don’t you know that by now?"

Y/N’s eyes flickered, a mixture of relief and guilt dancing in their depths. She reached out and took his hand. "I’m sorry, Ty. I just... I hate being this helpless."

Tyler stood and pulled her into a gentle hug, mindful of her injuries. "Ain’t nothin’ helpless about you. You’re one of the toughest women I’ve ever known. But right now, tough means lettin’ yourself heal. And I’m here to help with that. It’s what I want to do."

For the first time all day, Y/N’s shoulders relaxed. She rested her head against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat calm her restless mind. "Thank you."

They stayed like that for a few minutes, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the porch. Tyler finally pulled back, a playful grin on his face. "Now, how ‘bout we get you inside? Doc said you need to rest."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. "I’ve been resting all day."

"Yeah, but you haven’t had my world-famous chicken noodle soup yet," Tyler teased.

"Oh really? World-famous, huh?"

"In at least three counties," he said with a wink.

Tyler scooped her up in his arms and carried her towards the front door. “You know you’re supposed to do this when you get married, right?” Y/N questioned. “Hey, it’s good practice.” He replied.

||

That night, Tyler sat beside the bed, his boots kicked off and his legs stretched out in front of him. Y/N lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, her face contorted in pain she was trying hard to hide. But Tyler noticed. He always noticed.

He leaned over, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "You okay?"

Y/N blinked, her eyes glistening. "It’s just... the pain. It’s worse at night. I feel like I can’t get away from it."

Without hesitation, Tyler slipped into bed beside her, carefully wrapping his arms around her without putting pressure on her leg. He pulled her close, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"I’m right here, darlin’," he whispered. "I ain’t goin’ nowhere."

Y/N took a shaky breath. "I know. But I don’t want to keep you up all night."

Tyler kissed the top of her head, his lips warm and comforting. "Don’t worry ‘bout that. Sleep or no sleep, I’m here. You don’t have to go through this alone."

She buried her face into his chest, the familiar scent of him—earth and leather, storm clouds and fresh hay—giving her a sense of peace she hadn’t felt all day. "Ty... what if this takes longer than 4 months to heal? What if I’m not the same afterward?"

Tyler’s grip tightened just a little, enough to reassure her without hurting her. "Then it takes longer. And if you ain’t the same, we’ll figure it out together. You think I’m here just for the ridin’ and the fun days? No. I’m here for all of it. The good, the bad, and whatever comes next."

Y/N swallowed hard, her eyes closing as the pain seemed to lessen, just a bit, with his words. "I don’t deserve you."

"Now, that’s where you’re wrong," Tyler said, his voice soft but firm. "You deserve the world, Y/N. And if I can give you even a piece of it, I will. You’re my whole world."

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to say something so raw, so vulnerable. "You mean that?"

Tyler chuckled softly, his voice rumbling in his chest. "More than you know."

Y/N snuggled closer, her body relaxing into his. The pain was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp, not when she was wrapped in the safety of his arms. "I love you, Tyler."

"I love you too, darlin’," he murmured, his lips pressing softly against her forehead. "And I’m here for the long haul. Ain’t nowhere else I’d rather be."

The night stretched on, the sky outside dark and the stars shining. Tyler stayed awake, his arms around Y/N, listening to her breathing slowly even out as she finally drifted into sleep. He didn’t mind missing the storms. There would always be another tornado, another season. But there was only one Y/N, and she was worth every missed chase, every long night spent by her side.

As he lay there in the dark, the distant rumble of thunder echoed from far-off storms, but Tyler didn’t stir. His focus was here, on the woman he loved.

And as long as she needed him, that’s exactly where he’d be.

[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 9

Chapter Summary: The first tournament task goes down, reader has an annoying partner for the Yule Ball Dance practice, and ends up with a ruined dress.

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Category - enemies to lovers + hurt/comfort

Content Warnings - cursing,

Word Count - 4.0k

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous | Next | Navi

The cold November air nipped at your face, it felt like you’d been standing out here for ages. You’ve lost count at the amount of times you heard someone say the first task of the tournament could start any moment now.

You had no idea who’d be going first, what dragon they’d be fighting, or what type of dragons there were, but you were horrified.

The familiar shouting of those two annoying twins you hated interrupted your thoughts, now you really regretted allowing yourself to be accidentally separated from Katie and Angelina.

“Gonna place your bets before it starts?” Fred hopped down next to you.

“See if Mr.Diggory will be able to outsmart the dragon?” George added, holding open a suit case, the names of each selected scribbled across the top, the bottom part was covered by a good amount of knuts, sickles, even some galleons.

“Or outcharm?” Fred looked at his brother as they both snickered. You let a heavy breath out through your nose.

“If I give you a sickle will you two leave me be?” You stood up from your leaned position on the wooden rails.

“Probably not-” George shrugged.

“We’ve already gone around the entire pitch now-”

“But you could still try and see!” George pretended to close the suitcase then reopen it, wiggling his brows. You glared at him and shut it.

“Worth a try.” He mumbled, snapping the latches shut.

You turned your attention back to the field, waiting for someone to walk out, for something to happen. The air was especially chilly today and you could feel your nose start to run, making you sniffle a bit. Unwillingly getting the attention of Fred.

“Those earmuffs can’t be doing much for you.” He nudged.

“They’re doing enough.” Which was a lie, they were doing so much less than enough. You’ve had those things since your first year and they were absolutely past their prime, they were barely blocking the cold from your ears.

“We both know that's not true, how ‘bout we swap?” He grinned as he pointed to his green and white beanie, you shook your head and grimaced in response. As always, Fred would not be taking no as an answer.

You tried to protest as he took off your earmuffs, hanging them around his neck and then taking off his beanie, shoving it onto your head and tugging it down until it went past your eyes.

Originally you were going to rip the beanie off, steal your earmuffs back, and maybe give Fred a harsh shove. But once you shifted the hat to where it wasn’t blinding you, the new warmth spreading around your head and across your cheeks was so much better. So comfortable.

“Nice, eh?” Fred smirked at you, you shrugged off his words, quickly turning your eyes back to the field as the stadium began to roar. A knot formed in your stomach once you saw the yellow and gold uniform, Cedric was first.

A silvery blue scaled dragon came out next. It was chained, but looked as if it still had enough room to move a good amount around the field. Its screeching roar made the knot feel tighter.

Hermione, who was just a row in front of you yelled something about it being a Swedish Short-Snout and flames being able to turn “your bones into ashes in seconds.” God, you felt terrified.

What if something happens? What if the chain breaks? What if Cedric gets truly hurt?

The creature whipped its tail just a few feet in front of Cedric. You gasped as the rest of the stadium did.

Cedric was able to get the golden egg in fifteen minutes, though it felt like an hour. You spent most of his turn with your hands over your face, peeking through your fingers.

Watching closely as he transfigured a rock into a dog to distract the dragon and began to run towards the egg. A yelp emerged from your throat once the dragon opened its mouth, turning its head towards Cedric letting blue flames blast out towards him, who was now jumping for cover behind a boulder.

You could see him sit up, back against the rock and hand hovering over the side of his face, which was now badly burnt.

“Well done dragon!” Fred cheered and clapped. You looked at him with a face of utter shock and disbelief.

“What is wrong with you? That thing’s gonna kill him!” You shoved him, your throat hurt from screaming.

“Oh he’ll be fine, he’s got a thick head.” Fred shrugged, continuing to cheer for the dragon.

Cedric successfully got the golden egg, then was shipped off to Madam Pompfrey for his face. You weren’t able to leave until the first task was officially over for everyone. Yet, you were already on the move to get out as soon as Dumbledore announced everyone could go. You left the pitch, immediately making your way towards the Hospital Wing.

Somehow you were able to have Madam Pompfrey let you see him this soon, she was already ushering a group of hufflepuff boys out when you were approaching the wing.

She let you go in when you promised her three minutes.

Cedric was laying flat on his back when you walked up, The one side of his face was covered in a slimy thick orange paste, you were still able to see some of the nasty marks.

“Charming right?” His voice was sarcastic as he noticed your grossed out staring, “It’s for my burns.” He frowned.

“Yeah, you look amazing.” You scoffed out a laugh, sitting down in the open chair next to his bed, “Do you know how long you’ll be here for?”

“A few days, hopefully.” You watched as his brows knit together as his eyes darted to your head, then to your face, then to your head again. “Whose hat is that?” He said blankly, eyes narrowed.

Your eyes went wide when you realized. Merlin, you didn’t even notice you still had Fred’s beanie on.

“Nobodys, it’s mine.” You stammered out, ripping the hat off and holding it tightly in your lap. Cedric stared some more at it then smirked, he could clearly see the F.W. knitted into the side of it.

“Unbelievable.” He shook his head, still smirking.

“So what's the egg do?” You ignored his silent speculation.

“I can’t believe it.” He chuckled, continuing on.

“Shut up, it was just a small favor.” You smacked his arm with the hat, “What does the egg do, Ced?” You leaned back in your seat.

“It wails. Like an ear-shattering shriek if you open it.” He said flatly and you scrunched up your face at the disappointing thought of it.

“All that struggle just for a screaming egg?” You let out a breathy chuckle, Cedric didn’t respond.

You saw his head lift up slightly and eyes glance to the entrance doors, they lit up. Looking behind you to see Cho standing there, a bouquet of freshly picked flowers in her hands and a nervous smile on her face.

“I’ll let you two have some time alone.” You looked at him in amusement, standing up and nudging his foot before leaving. You gave Cho a sweet knowing smile as you passed by her, she smiled back and nodded.

Harry was opening the golden egg by the time you entered the common room, now you knew exactly what the shrieking Cedric was talking about sounded like.

Katie and you walked into McGonagall's class confused, the floor had been cleared of all desks and chairs, except one in the corner that had an old dusty phonograph sitting on top of it, Flich standing by it.

“What do you think this is for?” Katie giggled to you as McGonagall directed the girls and boys to separate sides of the room.

“How much do you want to bet that she’s gonna make us dance?” You giggled back.

“If she does, I know who you should pick.” Katie smirked as she nodded her head to where the twins were standing. You were able to let out a sound of disgust before McGonagall began to talk.

“The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament since it’s inception. On Christmas Eve we and our guests we'll gather in the great hall for a night of well mannered frivolity! As representatives of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. I mean this literally because the Yule Ball is, first and foremost…a dance.” The room erupted into gasps and silent yet excited whispers.

Katie looked at you with a lit up eyes. You gave her your best faux grin, all you felt was dread. A dance meant getting a date to go with. You weren’t very close with any of the boys in your house, Cedric would definitely use this as his chance to ask out Cho, and you wouldn’t even dare to think about asking either of the twins. Not even as a last resort.

“Inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers longing to burst forth and take flight!” McGonagall turned to the girls side of the room, going on with her lecture. After a crude comment from Ron and an awkward yet humorous dance tutorial including him and McGonagall, you were instructed to find a partner to practice with.

“Everybody come together! Boys on your feet!” Of course Katie made a beeline towards George while you looked around the room. You tried your best to find a boy to dance with before they all got claimed by another girl.

There seemed to be no luck, everyone was already standing or making a way to their partners. Oh God, you were terrified this would mean you’d have to dance with Flich. You turned without looking and bumped into someone.

“Need a partner?” That someone being Fred, grinning with his hands behind his back. No luck.

Before you decided whether to reject him or not, you looked around the room one more time, looking at Filch then back at Fred who held out his hand for you. Fuck it.

You took his hand hesitantly and got in position as the music started. Fred had that same stupid smile on his face, the one that always looked like he was trying to hold back his laughter, the one he always had on when he knew he was pissing you off, when he knew you were annoyed.

“Why do you find me being miserable so amusing?” You scowled at him as you both shifted around.

“I reckon you look a bit cute when you’re frustrated.” Fred shrugged. Your eyes went wide and your feet jerked, making your movements stutter at his response.

“What?” You’d lost your train of thought, any snarky responses were gone.

“I’m being honest.” He hummed, “Now come on, let that secret slumbering swan take flight!” He encouraged, beginning to count along with the steps.

After what felt like ages of dancing around the room in circles and “accidentally” stepping on each other's feet, you exited that room as quickly as you could.

The next class was already coming down the corridor by the time you burst out the doors, you stared at the ground as you walked, mind plagued with Freds comment.

Your name being called pulled you out of your thoughts, you looked up to see a concerned Cedric walking up to you.

“You look…mortified, what’s happened now?” He lowered his chin, trying to make eye contact with you.

“I just had to dance with Fred, that was bad enough but then he…nevermind.” You chose to cut off your rant, if you told Cedric what Fred said, you’d never hear the end of it. “Anyways, we have a dance coming up on Christmas. You better ask out Cho while you can. I-I can’t talk right now, I’ve got to get to herbology.” You spoke quickly, not letting Cedric even have a second to respond before you were already on your way.

It’s been over a month since the Yule Ball has been announced. It's happening tomorrow, your dress your mum said she sent was supposed to be here by today, and you still haven't gotten a date to it. It felt as if every single person around you had paired up with someone. Even the bloody twins had scored dates with Angelina and Katie.

“And you said yes?” You gawked at Angelina as you entered the Great Hall for breakfast.

“Of course I did!” Angelina scoffed playfully.

“He threw a paper ball at you! What kind of crummy way is that?”

“It was Snape's class! We couldn’t talk, I think he was just trying to give an example to his brother too.” She shrugged.

“Great example that is.” You huffed as you three approached the table and sat down. “Still can’t believe you both agreed to go out with them.”

“They really aren't all that terrible! Sure, they’ve had some bad pranks, but they’re not evil. You just hate them.” Katie shook her head at you.

“So maybe they’re not as bad as I seek them out to be, whatever, that still doesn’t change the fact that they’re annoying. Or that you both have dates and I don’t.” You muttered out the last sentence, resting your chin on your hand.

Speaking of the twins, you hadn’t seen them all morning. It wasn’t uncommon for them to sleep in on weekends, but usually they’d be wandering around in the Great Hall or somewhere near by now. You were quickly pulled out of your self mulling when Colin, a first year, nervously tapped you on the shoulder while holding out a large box.

“Parcel for Ms.Y/L/N?” He handed it to you anxiously, you smiled and thanked him before he ran off. You felt your own face light up as soon as you saw that the package was from your mum.

“What’s that?” Katie asked, watching you stand up and excitedly tear off the wrapping paper.

“My dress for the ball!” You grinned as both girls gave you an “ooooo!” in response.

“About bloody time! I was starting to get nervous that you’d have to show up in your robes.” Angelina chuckled.

“Right?” You nodded. “I just hope it’s the right one I asked my mom to grab.” You thought out loud, and it was.

Angelina and Katie both shot up as you gasped at the sight of the dress. All three of you stared at it in awe as you carefully pulled it out of the box. God, it looked better than from when you last tried it on after you saw it sitting in your mum's closet.

It was the most beautiful shade of a pale blue you’ve ever seen, delicate yet elegant embroidered into the fabric, and a flowy skirt.

“Merlin, that’s gorgeous.” Angelina commented as you held the dress up your body. “You’ve got to try it on.”

“Yeah!” Katie agreed as she stood up. “We’ve got to see what it looks like on you!” You just waved them off.

“You two can wait until tomorrow night.” They both let out groans of protest.

“Shove off, you got to see us in our gowns!” Angelina rolled her eyes playfully.

“Yours both arrived early!”

“So? It’s only fair we get to see your late arrived one too!” Katie tugged you by the arm, beginning to try and drag you out the Great Hall. “Plus you’ve got to make sure it fits! If it doesn’t, I know some tricks.” You gave in, holding your dress up carefully and making your way towards the stairs.

The three of you grinned and giggled like you were twelve as you moved quickly up the changing stairs, it became a race of who could get to your dorms faster, and you were winning.

As you got closer to Gryfinndor tower, you felt less like an anxious bundle of nerves, forgetting about the stress of not having a date, only focused on wanting to put on that beautiful gown.

As you made your way to the Fat Ladys portrait, you ignored the giggles coming from behind the door, you thought nothing of them, it was probably girls talking about the ball and their dates. It’s been most of what you heard these past few weeks.

Angelina and Katie jogged up behind you as you showed off your dress to the woman in the portrait, earning a compliment and saying the password to be let in.

The three of you were merely entering the common room when you were met with two grinning freckled faces and some sort of liquid being thrown at you.

The twins stood across from you, holding now empty bottles. There were no longer smiles on their faces or yours. Only horrified expressions.

The room was quiet. The only noise left being a gasp leaving your lips as you looked down at your ruined gown and the sound of the droplets of ink falling from your now soaked dress hitting the common room floor.

Whatever potion/sludge/ink- Whatever disgusting watery liquid they’d thrown from the bottles had splashed all over your dress, some of it hit Angelina and Katie behind you, and your skin. But those were the least of your worries, the pale color was stained with streaks and blots of hideous orange ink.

Tears were already brimming in your eyes as the twins both began to babble apologies at the same time, their voices overlapping each other, eventually going back and forth.

“We thought you were Ron! We were trying to prank Ron!” Fred sputtered out.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen to you, this was for Ron!” George added.

“We’re so sorry y/n, we really didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“A prank?” Your voice was already wavering. “You call this a prank?” You cried out, shaking the stained fabric at them.

“Listen, we can clean it up! We’ve got-” Fred tried to explain. Angry tears began to fall from your eyes before you stopped him.

“Piss off! The Yule Ball is tomorrow night! How could you get all of that out in a day?” You shouted as you threw the dress at the two boys, not caring about it anymore now that it was all messed up. “Actually, I don’t care, it doesn’t matter, you’ve ruined everything! Are you happy?” You turned on your heel and stormed out of the common room, letting out an embarrassing sob while going to the nearest bathroom on the floor.

You could hear the girls begin to tell them off.

“What is wrong with you!” Katie shrieked at them.

“We never thought it’d be you three walking in! It was a prank meant for Ron!” One of the twins defended.

“It was a shitty one at that!” Angelina barked.

“We never meant to hurt anyone with it!”

“Yeah? Well now you’ve made her cry!” Angelina continued on, while you felt more embarrassed than ever.

You’ve now failed at the one thing you thought you’d never do, you promised yourself you’d never do: Cry in front of Fred and George. Let them see you vulnerable.

You couldn’t believe how you were just beginning to tolerate the twins. Just starting to believe that maybe they weren’t all that bad.

It wasn’t long after you hid in one of the stalls when you heard Angelina and Katie's sympathetic calls for you. Soon you saw the two pairs of feet outside the stall door.

“We know you’re in there. It’s just us. You can come out.” Angelina's voice was gentle, holding the same tone as if she was talking to a scared puppy.

You wanted to respond, you tried to speak but all that came out was a pathetic cry. The disappointed breaths from both of the girls didn’t go unnoticed, you just knew they were frowning at each other pitfully.

“I look like a fool.” You whispered out, voice hoarse.

“It’ll be alright, there’s got to be a spell to get the sludge and stains out of it!” Katie tried to help.

“Do you know it?” You rasped out, you didn’t mean to be so snappy towards them, but you were pissed and embarrassed beyond belief.

“No…but maybe a teacher does! Flitwick basically knows every charm in the book!” You let out an unamused breath at Katies words. Yeah, sure. Flitwick will take time out of his day just to fix some stupid girls dress.

You didn’t say anything, you ripped off some toilet paper from the roll and wiped your cheeks with it. The first bell of the morning rang, which was a five-minute warning until the first class of the day.

Fuck, was it already 9?

“Don't let me hold you up, just tell McGonagall I'm sick if she asks.” You sighed. Katie said your name sadly.

“You can’t stay in there all day.” She tutted.

Yeah? Watch me. You almost wanted to say, but again, they weren’t the ones deserving to be snapped at.

“Just go!” You cried, “I’m not going anywhere looking like this.” Neither of them responded, you held in your cries until you saw their feet walk away and the bathroom door shut.

It wasn’t until the end of lunch when you finally left. It was pathetic, skipping two full classes and most of lunch because you were too busy crying in the bathroom and attempting to scrub the stains off your school robes and hands.

The least you could do was make it to Potions, though you really didn’t want to face the twins after your outburst at them. But, maybe when you walked in there puffy eyed and with tear-stained cheeks they’d feel bad, maybe that could be your silent revenge.

However, when you did enter that classroom. Neither of the boys were there, neither of them showed up all class period. They didn’t show up at dinner either. Which was a relief but also puzzling. They usually never skipped meals unless they were up to something. Were they too ashamed to see you after what they did?

Angelina and Katie already told you in the morning that they both wouldn’t be able to make it to dinner, they’d be busy helping Madam Hooch with something Quidditch related. Maybe that’s what Fred and George were doing too.

You left the Great Hall feeling worse than when you came in. Eating alone was never fun, especially when you were already feeling mopey.

“Oh God I was wondering when I’d see you. Angelina and Katie told me what happened.” Cedric said as he caught up to you as you were walking in an empty hallway.

“Yeah?” You stopped and looked at him, he gave you a sympathetic nod. “Good, now you know I’m gonna take out the twins.” You scoffed.

“What? Take them out on a date or in a deadly way?” Cedric chuckled.

“It’s not funny, Ced. They’ve fucked it all up.” You scowled, crossing your arms.

“There’s got to be something you can do?”

“I haven’t got a date nor a dress anymore. There’s no point of going.”

“Don’t be like that, you can still go.” Cedric sighed as you only shook your head slowly.

“There’s no point.” You dropped your arms to your side and shrugged, “Think I’m just gonna go to bed early. Goodnight Ced.” He frowned and watched as you drug yourself down the hallway.

The Fat Lady gave you a sad look as you muttered the password to her, entering the common room with slouched shoulders and a low gaze. You stayed that way until you entered the girls dormitory.

There was no way of missing the dress that was now laid nicely along your bed. Your steps quickened as you approached it, the dress was cleaned of all stains. You picked it up as if it would crumble into ashes when you touched it, it looked even better from before it was ruined.

There was a small gift box sitting with it, you stared in shock as you popped it open to reveal a necklace laying inside, an aquamarine pendant sparkling off of it. It came with a small note card with the writing nicely written down.

A replacement since the old one broke. We suck, we’re sorry. xx - F & G

tell me what you thought! <3

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[moongreenlight]

Insane reader my beloved. Literally my babygirl.

@katz-chow been ruminating on this one just for you <3

CW: Gore and violence

Reader who shows up late to their first meeting with the task force. Rolls up in their dark sedan with blacked-out windows and one too many dents on the front bumper wearing civvies instead of the uniform they were given and instructed to wear.

Reader who is a privately hired detective with a talent for interrogations. Not officially a member of the task force or the military because the tactics they use are far less than legal. More a secret weapon on retainer for when doing things by the book doesn’t do the trick.

Reader who gets on the good sides of the task force boys by being sugary sweet and barely hiding their true colors. Skins and bleaches the skulls of interrogations gone South and gives them to Ghost insisting they’re better than the costume store shit he’s got on now.

Gifts Price expensive cigars tucked between the fingers of a severed hand. Drops them off in large pink boxes with delicate ribbons and giggles when he asks a thousand questions about why and how and what the fuck he was supposed to do with this.

Tosses Gaz new knives on the field when they’ve landed a kill or just wrenched them out of someone’s stomach. They make a game out of chucking the gore-slicked blades at one another’s heads to see if they can dodge in time.

Starts playing dodgeball with Soap where they toss his less-stable bombs and unpinned grenades back and forth. Only stops after they’ve accidentally blown up the camp two missions in a row. (Also heavily rumored they have tramp stamps of each other’s names because they’re both too stubborn to back down from a dare but that’s just for vibes)

Reader who gets flown out on specialty missions where a hostage really refuses to talk and takes matters into their own hands. Sometimes hopping on radio when they’re in transit and requesting the force pulls extra men so they can play a live game of operation. They’ve been watching videos on the dark web and the first two seasons of Grey’s Anatomy from their military issued laptop so it’s like an 80% chance all the hostages live.

Reader who stops being allowed to train rookies because the first and only faux-deployment they led they told the group they ran out of rations three days in to a two week long training and they had to play rock-paper-scissors to create a bracket of people to eat first. The mission gets called early when Price gets word that there was actually a field amputation done. Reader doesn’t even apologize, just laughs their way through a barely reasonable explanation. I didn’t think they’d actually do it.

Reader who begs the boys to let them play kill, kiss, marry, kill in the middle of a boring interrogation and when they get told no or to focus on the task at hand, they throw such a fit that they end up sending a screwdriver through the eye of the person they’re supposed to be interrogating.

Reader who brings their own kit to interrogations. Lugs around pincers, rusted blades, rotary bone saws, and dull axes in a flamingo pink toolbox. Sets it up on a small table in front of the hostage and unboxes it like an influencer showing off PR.

Reader who also stops being able to run conditioning and drills with rookies because they pitted the privates against one another during a sparring session. Saying something about whoever could sheath a blade in the other first got a bonus check before tossing a few knives on the mat and walking away. Gaz had to run over and tell them you weren’t serious when he saw blood.

Reader who insists on being able to puppeteer the decapitated head of an enemy grunt they took down and reciting a few lines of Shakespeare to the boys. Dragging the mission out because they know as well as the boys do that everyone is on their timeline.

Reader who dances around hostages that have been zip tied to chairs and beat within an inch of their life. Singsonging threats and having the boys drag the limp bodies of their chain of command across the floor.

Reader who pouts when their victims pass out during questioning after a few of their fingers have been chopped off with a butcher’s knife. Huffs like they’re being put through a massive inconvenience and fishes smelling salts out of their toolkit to wake the poor sap back up.

[clockwork-ashes]

Something Lonesome - Part I (as we know it)

Read also on Ao3 :)

Summary: Elain dies when she’s thrown into the cauldron, but she doesn’t stay dead for long. Over and over, again and again, something brings her back, and every time she finds her way to Lucien.

Note: This is a romance, but it’s also just a story about Elain. There will be a happy ending <3 Also, completely dedicated to the lovely @nocasdatsgay because I have so many ideas and every time I yell them into the tumblr void (the tags) she has something nice to say <3

Elain screamed as her foot hit the water. 

No words fell from her lips, not as terror gripped her like a vice. It felt as though she had stepped onto a frozen lake, the surface so cold that it burned her bare skin.

Elain kicked at the guards as they hauled her forward, her neck twisting painfully as she tried to capture the king’s attention. 

Pretty, he’d called her. Perhaps it would be enough to spare her life, Elain thought. Beauty had always been the best of her qualities, a weapon she’d been taught to wield even before she’d been old enough to understand it fully. 

Smile, sweetheart. 

Her mother would say. 

Women are always lovelier when they’re happy. 

Elain wanted to rip out the king’s throat with her teeth. He kept his dark gaze on Feyre, taking her sister in with an ancient amusement. She remained unseen, desperation clawing at her throat as a sense of familiarity washed over her. 

Something tugged gently onto her rib, a thread being pulled. Elain’s eyes were drawn to the handsome lord who had ultimately betrayed them. His voice had been rich as gold and sweet as hone  when he’d demanded the guards stop. 

He’d surged towards her, staggered as he’d attempted to reach out. Magic had leashed him next to the High Lord of Spring, pinning him in place, useless. Elain tracked the vicious scar that cut across his features, a cracked piece of glass that had not broken completely.   

He looked horrified, expression pained as he refused to turn away from the sight before him. 

Lucien. 

Elain couldn’t remember when she’d learned his name, but she was certain that if she called out to him, he would respond. She knew it just as surely as she knew herself. 

Stay.   

The word was written all over his face, an echo in her mind just as she felt her heart shatter. She couldn’t breathe, her body unable to comprehend what had occurred. She felt the same, and yet entirely different. She was not given the time to examine the sudden shift, no chance to analyse what it might mean. 

In a single movement, Elain was shoved carelessly into the Cauldron’s whirling waters. She gasped, tasting blood on her tongue. Her limbs were pulled in opposite directions by phantom hands, joints groaning at the pressure. Skin peeled back like tree bark, revealing the white bone beneath. 

Elain witnessed none of it. There was a golden thread keeping her from sinking, looped around her ring finger, bright as the sun. The darkness danced along the edges of her vision, her curls floating in a blurred mess around her. 

Old friend.

Recognition flashed in Elain’s mind, and she reached for it. As if she were threading her hands through a field of grass, the gesture was enough to ease her nerves, rhythmic. 

Wait a moment longer.

Everything seemed to pause, the world no longer spinning. A sense of calm lingered, the silence lovely. 

Please. 

Elain felt light. Ripped apart, but she was tenderly being put back together. Apology and understanding was a soft caress as the water rippled. It felt like an eternity, time endless like the Cauldron she had been forced into. 

She shut her eyes, but the darkness had already begun to ease back. It trickled like a stream until everything was crystal clear. Elain could see the elegant pearl of her engagement ring, the gemstone dull in comparison to the golden thread coiled around her finger. 

The universe tilted, and Elain allowed the waters to carry her back. She’d nearly forgotten about the throne room, had hoped for a moment she would have returned to the false safety of her home. 

The tiles were warm in comparison to the Cauldron, Elain thought, her cheek pressing uncomfortably against the smooth surface as she regained feeling in her arms and legs. She pushed herself onto her elbows, tremors making her unsteady. 

Elain breathed in sharply. 

Nesta was next, she knew. She could hear the howl of anger her sister roared in response, the king speaking as well but her ears couldn’t make out the words.

“Don’t just leave her on the damned floor—”

She caught only Lucien’s sentence, anger in his tone as a flash of sunlight flared in the large space. It reflected prettily against the black water on the tile, golden like the strange thread that had slowly begun to fade. It swirled like a winding river on a hand drawn map, one end leading to Lucien as he knelt like a knight in front of her. 

Elain winced, shoulders curling inwards just as he draped his jacket onto her trembling form. She pulled back, staring at the brown skin of his throat. She couldn’t bring herself to look away, not even as she heard the guards throw a still thrashing Nesta into the Cauldron. 

Lucien pulled Elain into his arms and she fell onto his chest clumsily. Ice water poured around her feet, but the coat kept her warm. The thick fabric smelled like fresh apples and early mornings, throwing her into memories of summer days spent gardening beneath a cloudless sky. 

Elain breathed in, comforted instantly despite what had been done to her. She tucked her chin beneath the collar, using it as a makeshift shield in order to hide from her surroundings. 

Lucien kept a respectful hand between her shoulder blades, and Elain was aware of the heat of his palm leaking through the material.

Nesta slammed into them roughly, undeterred by those watching, unbelievably brave in the face of what they’d just suffered. Elain felt slender fingers grab onto her waist, pulling as she snarled at Lucien. “Get off her!”

Elain slipped when he moved back, but Nesta’s grip was unforgiving. Her sister sobbed, the sound heart wrenching but not capturing her attention as it normally would have. 

If Nesta or Feyre had cried as children, Elain could never stop herself from doing the same. She’d always felt their pain, caring to the point where it became embarrassing. A desperate hand ran over her still wet hair, almost as though Nesta was checking to make sure they were both still alive, the touch grounding. 

Elain was staring over Nesta’s shoulder, though, eyes locked onto a mismatched pair. She gazed up at him, close enough for her to hold onto if she wished. She heard the rapidly beating rhythm of his heart, thunderous in her ears. 

Lucien’s voice broke like waves against the shore as he whispered. “You’re my mate.”

[thestalwartheart]

May I ask for 00q and a 💛 please

Hello my friend! Thank you for the prompt. This was such a lovely one to fill.

You can read the fill below or on AO3. 💛

After a weapons test goes wrong in Q Branch, Bond spends a moment dancing with regret.

relief.

One minute and seventeen seconds.

James Bond has lived through a lot. He’s lived through seconds that felt like years and years that felt like fleeting moments. He’s seen people suffer. He’s seen plenty of people die; killed some of them for duty, and loved others to their death.

So, a minute should be nothing. He’s held his breath for longer.

“Q.” With the hand that isn’t holding his jacket to the wound at Q’s head, he cradles Q’s chin. Blood slicks the path of his fingers, then sticks.

“Medical team are two minutes away,” says someone. Not Tanner. Not anyone useful.

“Tell them to hurry up. They can take the bloody stairs if they have to.”

Two minutes. Christ, Bond's only been here on the floor for one.

He strokes his thumb over Q’s mouth. His lips are blood red now, stained from Bond’s messy hands. They’re a grotesque mockery of their usual cherry red, that colour for which Bond has never found an equal.

“Come on, Q. Wake up.”

There’s a pulse at Q's neck. That’s positive. Breath, too. Even better. All good signs. None of them do much to quell the frightful adrenaline in Bond’s bones. It’s been there since he saw Q land badly after his fall. No, not a fall. The body-flattening shock from the blast which—

“What the hell happened to proper safety regulations?” Bond barks. The techs around him flinch, but he doesn’t spare them another thought.

Under his thumb, Q’s lips are moving.

“Since when were you an expert on health and safety, 007?” A warm puff of laughter comes from his lips, and Bond doesn’t waste another second.

The kiss tastes like blood and cordite, and Bond’s own blood rushes to his ears. His pulse is on his tongue.

This wasn’t how it was meant to go, not with Q. He was meant to take Q out to dinner, wine and dine him, and see him in a proper suit. There didn’t seem a man in the world more in need of sweeping off his feet than Q, and Bond had intended to rise to the occasion. But as always, as always, the universe sought to remind him there just wasn’t enough bloody time for all the things in the world he wanted. There was only time for this. This kiss. This moment, holding Q's bloodied face in his hands on the debris-littered, dusty floor of Q Branch.

Q hums into his mouth, then winces.

Bond pulls back. “All right?”

“Mm. If I’d have known on our last field mission together that this was all it would take…”

Bond remembers his and Q’s last mission well. It was three weeks ago now, though it may as well be a lifetime. They’d spent days under the bright, arid haze of Rome’s summer sun, where Bond had, for once in his life, turned down a blatant invitation to sleep with someone with no strings attached. Because Q wasn’t just anyone. And Bond was, frankly, finished with starting things under a hail of bullets that were only doomed to fail.

Regret settles under his skin now. He wishes he’d given into the delicate warmth of Q’s hand on his knee. They could have kissed at sunset with the Colosseum to their backs. He could have watched Q drink his fill of Chianti under the stars. Everyone believes Paris is the city of love, but Bond has always preferred Rome. Vesper once joked it was the memory of all those strapping Roman soldiers.

Gently, Bond strokes his fingers through the dusty, greasy, sweaty mess of Q’s hair. Unbelievably, it still looks intentionally styled. “Don’t. I didn’t want—you deserved more.”

“Oh,” croaks Q. “To hell with what we deserve.”

With a weak fist, Q grabs Bond’s blazer and brings him down for another kiss. And this time, Bond doesn’t wonder about the paths not taken. He sighs and kisses Q back. Q will live a long life if Bond has anything to say about it, but if they only have a minute left together, then Bond knows how he wants to spend it:

With love rather than regret.

[spideronthesun]

Writemas Challenge

Day Fifteen

Well, hello everyone! Thank you for tagging me @melpomene-grey I invite everyone to check her beautiful story — it's truly worth it, you are going to love it! And I also have been tagged by @satohqbanana whose writing I am in love with and you are definitely up for some great storytelling!

I've been incredibly busy with this round of edits. I have been working on them nonstop, and I don't think that I am catching a break any time soon. However, once I saw these prompts written by @agirlandherquill, I knew that I had to do one of those myself!

I wanted to write something very sweet and wholesome. And also with a little bit of romantic yearning on the side to tickle your fluff bone!

"Trust me. Trust me. Trust. Me. That's all I ask of you."

Danielius stared at Medeina. It's not like he did not trust her. He always trusted her completely, as though his life depended on her. It was as if he couldn’t make decisions without her, as if she were his oxygen. There was an undeniable pull towards her from the very first moment they met. Have you ever experienced that feeling when you meet someone, that they’re destined to play an important role in your life? Well, this is what happened to Danielius.

At the summer fair, they bumped into each other, and the kite slipped out from her fingers. He caught it, the camera swinging around his neck. He was taking photographs of people that day; everyone seemed to be so happy, overjoyed when dancing in front of the stage, interacting with their friends and loved ones, and sharing a meal with one another. But he was missing something from his life, his own blue eyes empty, and bereft of hope. College made him unhappy, and he felt lost, without a meaning in life.

Medeina thanked him so silently that in order to catch her words he had to lean in closer, but it was her smile that he remembered the most from that day. How beautiful it was, lighting him up from the inside. His heart skipped a beat. He pressed the button on his camera to capture that moment, but his battery ran out, and he just ended up dropping it back into his backpack. It felt as if, at times, the memories were a powerful thing, etched into your very soul core. Shyly, she hid her face behind her hands, and that same night, Danielius learned Medeina had just moved to the new town and hardly knew anyone. Making sure she didn’t get lost amongst the strangers, he followed her around. Danielius held her hand in his to keep her close.

One night, as he looked out the window, he saw a couple of stars up in the sky. It brought back memories of how, since childhood, Danielius had always been told that the deceased eventually went on to become stars. Thinking it was his mother up there, staring at him behind the neighbor’s roof, he prayed with his hands clasped, and hoped that she could help him figure everything out. She sent Medeina to him.

He often found himself flipping through old photo albums, smiling at the pictures of his mother holding him, while wishing for a day when he would hear from her again. Though he could never remember her voice. But she always smelled of garlic and horseradish. And how she used to stroke his blonde hair as Danielius drifted off to sleep. Mom would tell him bedtime stories, and sometimes, when she thought he wasn’t listening, she would confide in him that he, alongside his brothers, were her most treasured possessions.

Danielius was so terrified that one day, he would wake up and not find Medeina by his side. He won’t have these days anymore where they spent rolling in the fields, with his head resting against her side, nestled under arm, as she was dressed in her blue linen dress that perfectly accented the beauty of her eye color. As she gently caressed his shoulder, they would both close their eyes, and they dreamed of their future together. At least he did. How he was going to build them a house where they could live together and dance in their living room to sixties music.

While some might argue that if he had lived eighteen years without her, then surely he could continue living without her now. No. Danielius had only truly begun to live when Medeina came into his life. He felt like he couldn’t imagine life without another thunderstorm, nor could he live without counting his blessings whenever she smiled at him, especially that little dimple on the left corner of her mouth. Sitting on the bench outside the local store, enjoying ice cream, and stealing bites from each other’s cones. Sometimes, he found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss her. Just as if she could somehow read his thoughts, she would smear some ice cream on the tip of his nose and then run away. And later laughing, like never before, feeling lighter and happier than he ever thought possible, at 2 am.

God, please, don’t let him lose her. Please, God, please. He will do anything.

“I do trust you,” Danielius finally said. “I’m just going to miss you.”

Medeina plopped down on the bed next to him and wrapped her arms tightly around him. It felt as if the sunset was taking the sun away along with her. No wonder the weather forecasts predicted two weeks of rain. “I will write you letters, and I will ask the dandelions to carry them all the way to you.”

“Everyday?”

“Everyday." Medeina nodded and laughed.

“And I want you to be careful out there,” Danielius said. “I don’t want anything bad happening to you.”

“I’m just going to visit my uncle!”

“Still,” Danielius said. “It doesn’t mean that I’m not going to worry about you.”

“I will be back before you know it. Promise me you won’t get into trouble.”

“Pfft, you know me,” Danielius said.

“Yes, I do,” Medeina said and bopped him on the nose. “Remember, only two spoons of sugar, not three!”

Danielius hugged her once more. These next two weeks would be hard. Each morning, he would wake up and peek under the window, hoping the dandelions had delivered a letter for him. Perhaps he could sweet talk the dandelions into eavesdropping on conversations. They’d inform him of when Medeina was coming back. Danielius planned to wait for her at the train station, holding a red rose in his hand. Just a flower for his most beautiful flower of them all.

He had it all figured out. Except, one thing.

He was unable to confess his feelings to her.

[humming-pokemon-helpers]

Okay, I promised gay Pokémon, I will deliver (so I can distract myself from thinking about anything else relating to this day!!)

🏳️‍🌈💝Let’s Talk About Gay Pokémon Courtship!💝🏳️‍🌈

Firstly, a note: this post is mostly about Pokémon that form long-term partnerships (exclusive or not). That doesn’t mean there isn’t any gay romance going on in non-pair-bonding species, just that it’s more of a short-term fling! (Did you know Yanma have been recorded to be gay? Now you do.)

With that being said… I want to look at a few specific examples for today! Birds are by far some of the most dedicated, but I’ll focus in on a lesser known one today, Mandibuzz! I’ll also touch on a wonderful Zoroark pair I’ve gotten to know myself, and finally, as bears discussion in any talk of couples, Tandemaus! (I might add more if there’s demand, later.)

1. Mandibuzz

Mandibuzz, as many may be aware, are a primarily (I would say solely, but biology doesn’t like absolutes much) female species of buzzard Pokémon! Typically they produce their eggs by pairing with Braviary, but… that’s about where the “straightness” ends with many Mandibuzz.

See, Mandibuzz raise their young in nests made from bone. But what many neglect in this fact is that nests are not made for one singular Mandibuzz. Instead, Mandibuzz go through a long and arduous courtship process to choose fellow Mandibuzz to pair up with, consisting of bone collection and adornment (which the Pokédex, to my loathing, lists as “showing off for males” that don’t exist), specialized mating calls and courtship dances, and finally, the exchanging of bones.

Once these nests are formed, Mandibuzz nest together for life. They’ll hunt for carrion together, adorn each other with pieces of bone, and groom each other, in addition to diligently raising their young together. Newborn Rufflet and Vullaby view both Mandibuzz as their mothers, regardless of which clutch they’re from. Perhaps as the most bittersweet example, bonded Mandibuzz are willing to fight to the death to protect not just their shared clutches, but each other. Love those lesbians.

2. Zoroark

I know, I know, it’s a cop-out from me to throw in another Unovan Pokémon of my species, but if I didn’t add this all of my examples would be lesbian. Zorua, like many other gender-skewed species, typically have an abundance of males and not many females around. You might think this would lead to intense competition for mates. You would be very wrong. Firstly, because not many pairs are exclusive for life (some are, still). Secondly, because male Zoroark, on average (again, this tends to be similar for many male-skewed species!), are gay as hell. (My brother being exclusively straight is weird, and I blame human heteronormativity jokingly.) (ALSO, this may just apply to my pack for all I know.)

Anyhow. Zorua essentially form hunting partnerships in childhood. Hunting used to be an essential part of our lives before McDonphan’s showed up down the street to raid instead. …Okay, it still is. Now, these pairs are mostly formed between same-gender Zorua, and stick through the rest of one’s life. Female Zoroark who pair tend to raise their kits together (though kit raising is pretty communal already), and often have similar closeness to female Mandibuzz. Male Zoroark who are paired at a young age often focus exclusively on their partners! They serve as teachers to the younger Zorua in the pack, much-needed babysitters, and often adopters of the ‘weaker’ kits whose survival is uncertain. Outside of kit rearing, though, some paired Zoroark have formed their own solitary pairs far-flung from local packs, subsisting off their own paired hunts or taking on lives in the human world together!

3. Tandemaus

Tandemaus, as a species, are presumed genderless due to their never being separated. That being said, there are gender differences in the mäuse, with there being pants-wearers and shirt-wearers. What field researchers have found recently, though, is that up to 15% of couples consist of two pants-wearers or two shirt-wearers! (Sadly, could not get such a picture for today.)

There’s no observed behavioral difference between two-shirts and two-pants couples… and what’s more, they are just as likely to show up with one or two more mäuse suddenly. Genetic testing has found these newly-acquired mice are just as genetically equivalent to their “parents” as mixed-pair born Maushold… I wish I could begin to dig into that, but good for them! Good for them.

[dameronscopilot]

downpour

Kayce Dutton x reader

summary: You've always loved rainy days, and now, Kayce might just find a reason to as well.

word count: 800+

content: fluff, kissing in the rain

SENSORY DRABBLES SERIES -> prompt: Kayce Dutton + rain + dark green

When you step out of the bunkhouse late in the afternoon, you pause, inhaling the rich, pleasant scent of petrichor hanging heavily in the humid air. The sun is nowhere to be found in the overcast sky, the gray shade of which paints the sprawling landscape of the ranch in a muted, surreal tone. 

Ryan nudges your shoulder as he swerves around where you’ve planted your boots in the gravel just outside the doorway, playfully grousing, “This your first time seeing rain clouds?”

You roll your eyes, digging the toe of your boot into the ground, the dusty pebbles scraping against one another as you shake them loose. 

“It’s been dry as a desert out here for weeks. It just feels…” you trail off, looking for the right words.

“Like everything is just holding its breath waiting for the rain to finally fall?”

Your heart stutters in your chest at the sound of Kayce’s voice, the feeling compounding tenfold as you turn to see him approaching, mouth upturned in a grin. 

“Yeah,” you respond, suddenly a bit breathless. “That.”

And as the sky begins to scatter a tentative drizzle across the hungry terrain, you exhale. 

–

Later, when the clouds have opened up into a yawning chasm, you find yourself caught in the barn, standing just out of reach of the relentless downpour as you gaze out the open doors. The horses knicker restlessly in their stalls, and you silently promise them that they’ll be glad for the rain when they’re back out in the pasture grazing the lush, verdant blades of hydrated grass.

The fields are thoroughly soaked through at this point, water pooling in some areas as the previously parched, cracked ground is now struggling to absorb it all fast enough. The looming trees skirting the edges of the property sway and dance under the weight of the water drenching their leaves.

You’ve always loved the rain—the luscious, earthy scent the oncoming precipitation brings forth, the way it effortlessly paints each piece of vegetation it touches in deep, rich shades of dark green.

The way the whole world seems to go quiet.

“You need an umbrella?”

You jump slightly as Kayce startles you for the second time in one day.

“Why, did you bring me one?” you ask, your casual tone warring with the way your face is already heating up as you glance over at him.

Kayce shakes his head, smiling as he shrugs off the jacket you hardly ever seen him without. “Nah, but you can use this. I’ll walk you back to the bunkhouse.”

You want to protest, because you can’t see a point in Kayce getting soaking wet on your behalf when you could just settle down in an empty stall and wait out the rest of storm⁠—a bale of hay can be comfortable enough in a pinch. But there’s something about the imploring look in his brown eyes, the way he wiggles his fingers a bit as he holds out the jacket.

His noble idea quickly becomes a fruitless effort as the wind decides to pick up when the two of you begin to embark on your walk, rendering the cover he’s holding over your head utterly useless while you’re pelted with an onslaught of wet droplets now falling sideways. 

You can’t help but laugh as you nudge Kayce’s hands away, urging him to give up on the makeshift umbrella. In moments, your shirt and jeans begin to cling to your body as you’re soaked to the bone. 

But you don’t mind. 

Not really.

Especially not when Kayce’s standing there looking at you like that.

“What?” you ask him as you spread your arms wide, tilting your head backward and closing your eyes as you opt to embrace the feeling of the rain on your skin.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“I never really cared for rainy days.”

You look over at him, willing yourself to ignore the way his damp, black t-shirt is now stuck to his chest. 

He steps closer to you, continuing before you can respond, “But I think I might like them now.”

Hands dropping to your sides, you meet his steady gaze. “And why’s that?”

He reaches out with one hand, letting his fingers hover over your cheek. You can feel the way he’s waiting for you to pull away, the question that lingers in the space between his skin and yours. 

The question that’s been lingering in the air between the two of you for months, since you started working at the ranch.

Lingering between too-long glances, the weighted pause between words.

But this time, you lean into his touch. 

“Because of the way this damn miserable weather seems to make you smile somehow anyway.”

Your lips curve upward in response, and his thumb carefully brushes across your jaw.

“It just always feels like the start of something new," you say softly.

Kayce's smile matches your own.

And then the cool feeling of rain droplets on your face is replaced by the warm caress of Kayce’s lips as he kisses you, your mouth responding to his in kind, eager as the parched foliage welcoming the storm.

[lab-trash]

So, uh, I was reading my Milton x Jack google doc, and I came across this. And I'm pretty sure I haven't posted it. So here ya go. And it's a long one, so strap in.

SHIP QUESTIONS

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet? - Jack kicked ass on Milton’s behalf

What was their first impression of each other? - Jack thought Milton was sort of dorky-seeming. That he would like to be strong, but never had really the real opportunity to do it with his skinny little bones and muscles. - Milton obviously was extremely impressed with Jack, no surprise there. We see it. We know it. 

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together? - I think that Mika would see it like… so quick. She would pretend she thought they were already dating just to nudge them along. 

Who felt romantic feelings first? - Jack. I am 100% on the side that Jack was a complete mess about his feelings for Milton while Milton had no clue that either of them were queer • Jack had a big ol’ gay crisis, fite me

Did either of them try to resist their feelings? - Absolutely, both of them. Like, we see it in the show; Jack has the most internalised homophobia a man has ever had. Like, he looks so uncomfortable when he’s with Kim, but like he’s obligated to, y’know?

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think? - Telling Jack: He’d deny it, he would flat-out deny it.  - Telling Milton: I feel like he’d get really confused and flustered about it. 

What would their lives be like if they had never met? - As we see in the show, it is not pretty. But I also chose to believe that it would actually not at all be like that. - I mean, come on, even if Jack didn’t join Wasabi, I don’t think he’d turn into a black dragon. He literally hates his cousin’s morals so much, and he’s a black dragon. I know that Kai became a black dragon only halfway through the show so if Jack hadn’t become a Wasabi then maybe Kai wouldn’t become a black dragon, but they still have the same morals. - I think it’d be a lot more like Kickin’ It On Our Own. - Jack would become committed to skating, a skatepark would’ve really been built at Jack’s petition and Kim would’ve never found the vole bc they weren’t friends.  - Milton wouldn’t have dropped out of school and become whatever tf he was in the wonderful life episode, he would’ve switched to Swathmore.  • Note to self, write a version of the Swathmore AU where they don’t meet until Milton goes to Swathmore.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go? - Milton. I feel like there are multiple points where it could happen, but Milton is always the one to start it. Here are some of my favourite points for their relationship to start.

Wrath of Swan. Milton comes back after dropping off Carrie and they dance and they’re gay. 

My Left Foot. Milton feels all sort of warm that Jack is encouraging him to quit football if it makes him happy and Milton kisses him before going out onto the field. They don’t talk about it until the after-party

Milton claims that kiss is the only reason he made that goal 

New Jack City. This is the one with Carson (BooBoo Stewart) if you don’t remember. After the fight, Milton approaches Jack saying that he feels guilty and that he couldn’t believe that he didn’t trust Jack before considering his feelings. This one is more of an accidental reveal

You may also remember that as the episode where Milton slapped Jack’s ass. That has nothing to do with the episode choice, I just felt like mentioning it. I don’t think they’re into that stuff, but I do think it made them both feel awkward in a flustered way. 

Kickin’ It On Our Own. Milton admits that he didn’t really like continuing his life without Jack in it. 

Meet the McKrupnicks. I don’t even know exactly how it would happen, I just like the idea of it. 

Two Dates and a Funeral. Milton takes Jack’s hand on Mount Seaford and it snowballs from there. 

Mama Mima. Milton apologises for causing all sorts of drama during the news thingy.

School of Jack. After the show, instead of hugging, Milton and Jack kiss. 

The Return of Spyfall/The Boys are Back in Town. Grey is really observant about Milton and Jack’s feelings about each other and peer pressures Milton to ask him out. It works. 

RV There Yet? Milton yells a love confession off the cliff before he knows Jack is alive. 

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like? - Yes, but I feel like it’d be often interrupted by Rudy, Jerry, Phil, Joan, etc. 

What was their first kiss like? - Oh boy, was it awkward. Their redo was better, and they consider that their first.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)? - I’d like to think they were each other’s first boyfriends. Not their first relationship, but first boyfriends specifically. 

What’s their height difference? Age difference? - I don’t think they have much of a difference between those things. Like, they have a size difference, since Jack has more mass, while Milton is kind of just a stick man.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families? - Jack’s mom is definitely happy that Milton is Jack’s partner, she likes him very much. Milton gave her his tamale recipe and she made a spicier version for her and Jack (it’s cannon Jack eats spicy food without even flinching lmao) - It is my personal belief that Jack doesn’t really see his dad, so I’m skipping past his dad’s opinion on Jack - Milton’s dad is trying his best to be an ally, so he is automatically supportive of their relationship albeit a bit awkward. He does like that Jack protects Milton though.  - Milton’s mother is… Well, she either doesn’t know their dating and approves of their friendship, or she knows their dating and doesn’t bc she’s homophobic imo. - Jilian likes Jack. She definitely likes messing with him in regards to Milton, who we’ve seen she’s very protective of, but she does like Jack. Jack is mildly afraid of her, for good reason.  - The McKrupnicks all like Jack, it’s very much one of those like… when he enters the room, they’re like “Jack!🍻”

Who takes the lead in social situations? - Jack. Well, most of the time. If it’s regarding their relationship, then it’s Milton, as he’s much more comfortable with his sexuality than Jack is.

Who gets jealous easier? - I think it’s about the same. But it’s different kinds of jealousy. Jack gets like… jealous in a sad possessive way, while Milton gets jealous in an anxious way. Does that make sense?  - Like, we see him get jealous of Carson and his friendship with the Wasabi Warriors, and he doesn’t really get possessive in an angry ‘mine, only mine,’ way, he gets jealous in a ‘but… mine… ;(‘ way. Milton is afraid Jack will leave him, and I’m counting that as jealousy.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear? - I think that neither, for the most part. Jack is way too flustered to do that, in public or not, and Milton is afraid of getting caught. But sometimes he isn’t. And it is a mess for Jack. 

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first? - Jack, but mostly because Milton didn’t want to push Jack to say anything. 

What are their primary love languages? - I think they’re both cuddly bitches, but Jack also likes giving gifts and casual praise.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines? - Both, but like… as a joke. They tell each other pick-up lines for fun and laugh at them. 

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA? - They cuddle as often as they can, even during the beginning of their relationship, though it’s usually private. - During the beginning of their relationship, they absolutely do not engage in PDA because Jack feels bashful at even the idea of that, but once they get into the later months of their relationship, you’ll pretty much not see them not touching each other.  • Jerry complains about it a lot; calls them clingy. 

Who initiates kisses? - Milton at first, then Jack, then both. Most often, rather. 

Who’s the big and little spoon? - They trade because they both have weird relationships with their masculinity. 

What are their favourite things to do together? - Karate, obviously. But they also enjoy bowling. And sometimes Jack will play guitar and Milton will sing. - Jack also makes sure to be in every Swords and Magic game once they start dating.

Who’s better at comforting the other? - I think Milton for Jack, but that’s mostly because when Jack has lows, they’re really fucking low, meanwhile Milton is used to the hills and valleys and doesn’t really need to be comforted because he’s already got coping mechanisms.

Who’s more protective? - Jack 1000%. Like, do I even have to explain?

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection? - Milton prefers physical. Jack prefers receiving physical, but likes praising Milton any chance he gets— especially when/since people push him around. 

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise? - I don’t know, I haven’t thought of it. But Jack’s favourite song ever is Nowhere to Go because Milton sings it. 

What kind of nicknames do they call each other? - Milton has a habit of just varying Jack’s name. So like Jack-Jack, Jackie, Jackson, Jack Attack, etc. - Jack calls Milton regular pet names + kitten. • No one else is allowed to call Milton those things.

Who remembers the little things? - Jack, he likes remembering little details about Milton’s life and hobbies. 

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes? - I feel like it’s just sort of something that’s brought up casually. Milton would bring it up, but they’d decide on it together. 

What’s the wedding like? Who attends? - Milton plans their wedding, obviously. It’s awesome. Jack nearly cries during their vows. - The Wasabi Warriors (and the honoraries), Izzy Gunnar, and some of their family. 

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like? - I think they’d foster kids, and consider Sam like… their nephew. 

Do they have any pets? - I love the idea of them having a rabbit. 

Who’s the stricter parent? - Milton.

Who worries the most? - Jack

Who kills the bugs in the house? - Whoever doesn’t spot it. The person who spots it is in a stunned state, so the other has to swoop in.

How do they celebrate holidays? - They usually like to just spend time together, since they’d both be off work. For things like birthdays and christmas, I think they’d have both a private celebration and one with the Wasabis.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning? - Hmmm… Okay, I think that they’d be the sort of couple who both get up and be productive pretty quickly. But on days when they’re supposed to be productive and he just doesn’t feel like it, I feel like Jack would ask Milton back to bed, and on days they have off from work, Milton would ask Jack back to bed. 

Who’s the better cook? - Every urge to say Milton, but that one episode where he bakes that cake has me torn, but I have to remember Invasion of the Ghost Pirates. So Milton can cook, but Jack has a weird secret talent for baking. He doesn’t like doing it, but if Milton asks real sweet-like, he will. 

Who likes to dance? - I have not watched the show in a hot minute, ngl. So I’m gonna say that I can be totally wrong on this, but I feel like they both do, in the comfort of privacy. But I like the idea of them sort of just swaying together while Milton is cooking, or when they’re tired.

[waterfallofspace]

Timing Is Everything.

Characters: Y/uta, G/ojo, I/numaki, M/aki, and P/anda. (feat. I/nuokku pairing implied <3) Word Count: 2.1k

Just a little gift for @ithadtobesneezing as she's been FEEDING us with Y/uta content <33

It's nothing amazing, but you've sparked the fire of love for your guy, so here's a lil something I hope you can enjoy~

All Characters 18+, picture early 20's AU (+ no bad stuff has happened <3)

(References to implied contagion, and high fever, and near fainting/dizziness, just incase anyone doesn't like those!)

~~~~~~~

A light breeze drifts through the air, the first hint of fall approaching. Summer had dragged on late into September, leaving the cool touch a welcome change to everyone. 

Almost everyone, that is. 

Burrowing deeper in his uniform, Yuta grits his teeth against the cold nestling in his bones. Despite the heat smothering him inside out, each chill seems to leave him trembling. Casting his gaze back to the field, it’s clear no one notices. Their attention is caught by the scene unfolding. 

Maki and Gojo are ‘sparring’, a term used loosely. More accurately, Maki is throwing things at Gojo’s infinity. Inumaki and Panda are both laughing, Panda cheering Maki on as Inumaki passes her more weapons to aim. Amidst the chaos, Yuta’s silence is largely overlooked. 

It’s not unusual for him to be a bit subdued during a meetup with his friends; being a special grade sorcerer has some deficits to go along with the profits. Still, he can’t help noticing that Gojo is right in the middle of the group, cheerful as ever despite his own long week. 

A pang of guilt finds its home in Yuta’s chest, the familiar burning leaping to his eyes. The feelings that always seem to grow in ferocity when his mind gets clouded. With a rough sniff, he rubs a sleeve across his face, sucking in a deep breath. Frustration swells, only dispelled when a gasp slips through his parted lips. 

He quickly ducks into his fist, massaging the twitching appendage before it blows his cover. Sunken eyes flicker back to the group, the breath he didn’t realize was trapped in his chest breaking free. They’re all still absorbed in their own world, Inumaki and Panda joining in on the game. 

Taking advantage of the privacy while it lasts, Yuta allows himself a deep sigh, his sleeve-coated hand scrubbing at his nose. The slow crawl of ticklish desire had been creeping its way deeper since this morning. 

He’d hoped to fight it off until he got home, or at least escaped from sight. The glimmer of light dancing across his face as a tear drifts down his flushed cheeks suggests no such hope should be dwelled on. 

“Yuutaaaa~” 

The tone is distinct, a melodic sound echoing throughout the yard. Sure enough, as Yuta raises his head from the safety of his hands, Gojo is waving him over. Maki and Panda are yelling about something he can’t quite make out, Inumaki holding up a popsicle stick figure with Panda’s head on it. 

Raising from his seat Yuta lurches forward, the floor beginning to shift under him. He instinctively drops his hand to steady himself, eyes squeezing shut. Once the world decides to let him off the unrequested roller coaster, his eyes begin to reopen. Relief floods his system as none of the others seem to pay him much mind. 

“I did not say that! In fact, I recall you were the one who filled out that report, therefore it was your responsibility to follow up.” Inumaki raises a Maki stick. 

“Oh really? Then why is your signature on the form?” Inumaki raises a Panda stick. 

“What?” Snatching the paper from his hands, Maki groans, aiming a swing at Panda’s chest. “You forged my signature again?!” 

Gojo’s simply watching, a childlike giggle bubbling from his chest as Inumaki raises the Panda stick once more. This time Maki knocks it from his hand, Inumaki glaring at her and huffing out, “Bonito flakes.” 

Once he’s sure the next step won’t realign the world, Yuta begins his trek across the mere feet between him and the others. His breath snags dangerously, the sensation nipping at his sinuses. A hand flies to his face, catching his nose and tightening against the onslaught. 

Catching Inumaki’s eyes, Yuta feels his hand snap back to his side. A single sniffle is all he allows himself before taking in a rush of air and painting his usual timid smile across his cheeks. Inumaki stares for a second longer, but ultimately shakes it off, raising an arm to gesture him closer. 

“What are they arguing about this time?” Yuta asks, aiming the question towards Gojo as Maki takes another swing at Panda’s legs. He’d heard it all quite clearly from the chair, but each vibration from his throat seems to bring new levels of itch to his breath. Best to give Gojo a chance to start rambling. 

For a moment Yuta’s convinced he’s been caught. Normally that kind of question would get Gojo bouncing as he gives a play by play. Today, instead, he simply shrugs, tilting his head just enough to let a single brilliant blue peek from behind his glasses. 

Yuta meets the look with a smile, letting his eyes flutter shut to sell the lie, ignoring the watering that begins as soon as his lashes touch down. It seems to work, however, Gojo yelling something nonsensical at Maki, strutting over with a raised hand. 

The itch chooses this moment to begin another resurgence, scratching through his restraint with a hungry determination. Yuta risks a glance at Inumaki, who appears preoccupied with fixing his popsicle stick Panda. Gojo is still shouting, Maki echoing the noises as she chases Panda around. 

“hHehh!” The hitch breaks through his control, unnoticed by the group. Deciding this is the ideal time to smother one without being caught, Yuta twists himself away from the group, raising an arm to his face. With the other he clutches his shoulder, bracing himself against the fierce tickle. 

“Hey Yuta, we want you to break a tie.” 

Panic grips Yuta’s chest as the field suddenly falls silent, each hitch spouting from his lips seeming to shatter against the peaceful quiet. He attempts to pry open his eyes, to no avail. After permission was given, the sneeze was far too strong to hold off anymore. 

“hH’ihhTZZdj’ehhh-!” 

All eyes turn to him, a shimmering ocean beginning to well in his own. Before he can utter a word, his breath catches in his throat. “ihHKzzTSChhiyeww-!” This time he only manages to raise a single hand, bending over with the force of the pitchy whine that bursts forth.

As the earth begins to tilt again, Yuta drops to his knees, only steading himself as a hand grips his shoulder. Keeping his eyes tightly closed, Yuta leans his head against it. After a minute the buzzing fades from his ears, and he slowly rejoins the world. 

He expects to see a few faces of disgust, maybe some anger. To his surprise, no one seems to be looking his way at all. Maki’s yelling something at Gojo, attempting to whack him with her staff. His infinity blocks it easily, though he looks distraught anyways. 

“-are you aiming that at me?! I didn’t do anything!” 

“You-” Maki pauses to swipe Panda off his feet behind her, returning her glare to Gojo as the sound of fur hitting grass sounds off. “You ‘didn’t do anything’? You got him sick!”

Gojo huffs, crossing his arms with an indignant look. “You and Inumaki were sick just a few days ago, how do you know you didn’t get him sick?” The smirk he’s wearing suggests he’s proud of this little deduction, but Maki simply growls in response. 

There’s a break from the conversation as Yuta ducks towards the ground again, raising his arm to catch a fatigued “hH’KNchhZZSHyeww-!”, so few sneezes already sucking all the energy from his body.

Inumaki’s hand tightens on his shoulder, Yuta humming a soft “Thanks.” 

“Maybe we did, remind me for a minute though,” Maki says with a sigh aimed towards the duo, swinging her weapon towards Gojo again. “Who got us sick?”

The sheepish look scrawled across Gojo’s face says it all, and Maki lets up on her assault, instead learning against her pole. “I already had to deal with Inumaki’s symptoms.” 

A vaguely offended, “Salmon roe.” sounds from where Inumaki’s crouched, Maki shooting him a soft look. 

“Sorry- Look, okay, I just don’t want to deal with-” 

“hH’TzzzcSHHyieew-!” Yuta interrupts, groaning faintly as the force of it sends his head careening into his arm far harsher than he’d expected. 

“With that,” Maki finishes, gesturing to Yuta’s trembling form. 

As Yuta gears up for another outburst, Inumaki lightly rubs his arm, humming something unintelligible under his breath. “hH’TIezzsshh’kiew-!” 

Once he’s sure this one didn’t readjust the world too much, Inumaki raises his gaze from Yuta to shoot a glare at Maki. She raises her hands in mock surrender, grumbling under her breath. It quickly fades as Yuta dissolves into a fit of coughing that leaves him gasping for air, Inumaki dropping back to his side. 

“Okay, okay, sorry…” Maki sighs, Yuta managing to catch a glimpse of concern in her eyes as his cough fades enough for a full breath. Maki continues with a softer tone, “I didn’t mean that. I just…” 

Yuta gives her a weary smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I know. It’s… it…” His eyes drift over her shoulder, vision starting to swim. He manages a breath, dancing the edge of control as the tickle retreats. 

“Sorry, thought I was…” Yuta hums, breathless as he attempts to continue the sentence, quickly dissolving into stammering, voice stolen by the pinprick itch spreading through his nose. “Wait, no I am… I’m… I’m uh… hH’yieTZZzshhYEWW-!” 

This time Yuta feels himself tipping forward, the world around him softening at the edges. The grounding touch against his shoulder begins to slip away, a dark sensation touching the corners of his thoughts. Just before he loses consciousness, a sharp pain cuts through the darkness, pulling him back to the light. 

Inumaki’s still gripping his shoulder, but the ache radiates from his face. Managing to get a grasp of his surroundings, Yuta finds Maki kneeling in front of him. Her hand is hovering in the air, as if she was unsure where to leave it. 

“Did… you slap me..?” Yuta manages, voice wavering with a mixture of relief and fatigue.

“Did you just nearly faint?” Comes the retort, Maki’s own voice not as solid as it would normally be. There’s a quiver to it that wasn’t there a minute ago, her eyes burning into his skull with an intensity not unlike her.

Still, there was something different to this gaze. Something distinctly afraid. Blushing under his gaze, she huffs. “You should be thanking me."

Opening his mouth, Yuta attempts to oblige, instead only managing a whimper as his lungs begin to spasm again. 

Maki watches for a minute, glare still pointed at him, before finally she lets up. “Oh just forget it, okay? Just… just try to breathe. You’re alright.” Her tone is soft, a single finger gently brushing some hair away from his eyes. “I think you have a fever, have you taken anything?” 

The silence is an answer, just as true as any sounds would be. At this admission, Maki turns to Panda with a pointed look. Panda gives a thumbs up, running off towards the school to grab some supplies Shoko still keeps there. Attention back on Yuta’s fragile state, Inumaki gently tucks an arm around his back, raising him to a standing position. 

They stand for a minute, Maki securing herself on the other side before beginning the walk back to the school. Yuta holds his breath, a strangled sob dying in his throat as tears begin to pour. At this, Inumaki begins humming again, something quiet and soft. Maki copies the tune, rolling her eyes with a barely contained smile. 

“Where was this softness when I was sick?” Gojo calls, the trio whipping around, nearly toppling Yuta in the process. Both supporters cast glares Gojo’s way, Yuta too busy righting the world in his head to copy their motions. 

“When you were sick you were clinging to our legs and rubbing your germs on everything.” 

Gojo pouts, attempting to sniffle, and instead simply inhaling. “I was sick! None of you did anything for me, I just needed som-” He’s quickly cut off by Maki tossing a dagger at his chest, infinity stopping it easily. Still, he gasps in mock hurt, chuckling as this earns him another (attempted) blow to the gut. 

Yuta soon forgotten, Maki lunges back towards him, daring him to drop infinity and fight her head on. The rest of the battle fades into the background as Inumaki positions himself on the ground, pulling Yuta down beside him. 

A yawn sneaks out from Yuta’s jaw, his eyes beginning to pool again. The same breath turns into a hitch, Yuta muffling a “hieH’tzZZchhyEW-!” into Inumaki’s chest. 

Inumaki hums gently into his ear in lieu of a blessing. Then, draping his arm around Yuta’s shoulder, Inumaki pulls him close, running his fingers through Yuta’s messy hair. 

By the time Panda gets back with the medication, Yuta and Inumaki are asleep, dozing to the soft sounds of Maki and Gojo’s sparring. 

Even through the tangled mess of limbs, Inumaki’s arm remains protectively draped across Yuta’s back.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

A little danger, pt. 11

A little danger - Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sky of Eraklyon x mind!fairy

Warnings: loooong, swearing, violence, sexual innuendos

———— PART 11 ————

Y/N doesn’t look back, her steps getting faster and faster until she’s running with Sky in tow. He probably has questions, she can sense his confusion, but she doesn’t stop until they’re out in the woods, away from curious eyes.

Letting go of his hand, she stumbles forward. Placing a hand on her stomach, she bends, resting her free hand on her right knee. 

Her chest heaves as she gasps for breath. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest like a beast trapped in a cage, and her head is spinning, feeling a wave of nausea wash over her. She leans against a nearby tree, closing her eyes as she tries to catch her breath. Her head is pounding, and she can feel a strange pressure building behind her eyes.

As she stands there, fighting for air, she begins to realize that her magic is rippling underneath the surface again. Her eyes flicker open, and she sees the iridescent glow of purple light radiating from her skin. .

“This never happened before”, she looks at Sky in horror.

Nausea intensifies, and she doubles over, clutching her stomach as a wave of dizziness washes over her. She feels as though she might collapse at any moment, and she struggles to stay upright.

Without question, Sky’s by her side, holding her up. “It’s alright, just breathe.” Running a hand up and down her back, he helps lean her back against the tree. “I’m here. We’re safe.” 

Hearing Sky’s voice is all the remedy she needs, allowing her mind to find a way out of the fog it got lost in. She has spent so much of her life feeling like an outsider, always different from everyone around her. If she’s being completely honest, part of her thought about giving up. Wouldn’t it be easier to surrender her magic to a scraper and neutralize herself as a possible threat? Because that’s all she’s been so far…a disaster waiting to happen. Farah told her to embrace it, to feel her emotions and let them take form she can later use as a weapon. She’s been doing anything but since Farah left the school. 

Last night was the first time she truly embraced every emotion available to her and today when she channeled them, her power was a little easier to control. If she was too far gone, she would have likely killed everyone in the field, but she didn’t. Her magic attacked the threat with just enough intensity for Rosalind to be warned and not killed. 

She did have some control and her love for Sky is the key to unlocking it fully.

As nausea begins to subside, Y/N straightens up, her eyes still glowing with a purple light. She takes a deep breath, feeling the power of her magic coursing through her veins. It's terrifying just how addictive it is, the power growing stronger inside her with every passing day. Just like any other drug, magic creates euphoria with everyday use. But it also corrupts. Too much power is dangerous for anyone - even her. Despite knowing that, for the first time in her life, Y/N feels ready to face whatever challenges may come her way.

Turning to Sky, her purple eyes meet his ocean-blue ones. She used to be afraid of hurting him when her powers would show, but this time she doesn’t run or push Sky away. Instead, Y/N smiles. 

“You’re beautiful”, Sky shakes his head in disbelief. When her eyes change to a purple color, it's as if a storm is brewing in her irises. The deep, rich hue swirls and dances like an otherworldly mist, drawing him in with an irresistible pull. The color seems to radiate from her pupils, casting a soft glow on her face and giving her an otherworldly, mystical quality. It's as if the purple light carries with it a sense of power and magic, making her seem both dangerous and alluring at the same time.

Every time he believes he might find a way to convince himself she’s made of flesh and bone, Sky finds himself enthralled by something new. How can he believe she’s anything but ethereal in every possible way? 

“And crazy”, he adds with a smile.

Chuckling, she nods. “When you’re involved, I don’t think I am capable of being normal.”

“Would you hurt Rosalind if she tried to continue her experiment?” 

“Yes”, she replies immediately. “I don’t think you understand to what lengths I’d go to for you.”

Sighing, he licks his lips. “But maybe she’s right.”

“You can’t be serious”, her face falls.

“If I have to take a little pain to help you, I’ll be at her mercy.”

Shaking her head, Y/N swallows thickly. “If it were Farah, I’d entrust you to her. Rosalind is too fickle for me to allow her this freedom. When will you realize that I’ll always put your safety first?” 

Cupping her cheeks, he rests his forehead on hers. “I think I understand. Mostly because I’d do the same for you.” And in a way, it scares him just how little he cares about consequences when Y/N is at stake. He’d get his hands bloody for her without hesitation.

Kissing her gently, Sky steals the very breath she drew in surprise at his response. How can she even find it shocking? If there’s anything she should be sure of it’s that his moral compass is lost when she’s in question. Maybe that makes him a bad person, but he’ll gladly be a villain in someone else’s story if it means his heart is safe.

Parting, Y/N sighs in disappointment. She’d love nothing more than to spend the day with Sky, to forget what is waiting for them when they return. Unfortunately for them both, they can’t ignore the world forever.

Sky wouldn’t say it out loud, but he loves the disappointment in her eyes when he pulls away. It means she longs for his touch as much as he aches for a taste of her lips. After chasing her for so long, it feels good to be wanted too.

“I don’t want to go back”, she whines as her phone vibrates. Looking at the notification, she furrows her brows.

“What’s wrong?” Sky moves behind her, looking at the message.

Bloom: Beatrix was taken by the Blood Witches.

Stella: When?

Bloom: The night of the banquet.

Terra: What do we do? 

Bloom: Rosalind thinks there’s a Blood Witch in school.

Aisha: Like a student?

Bloom: She’s not sure.

Flora: Is there a way we can find out? Musa?

Musa: I don’t think I’ve noticed anything off about anyone this year…In a different way than before.

Stella: Y/N might have. I’ll ask her at the party.

Aisha: Is she even going to the party?

Stella: She is.

“Why is she so confident I’ll show up?” Y/N grumbles, pocketing her phone as Sky’s phone rings.

Turning the screen to Y/N, Sky smiles innocently. “Probably because she knows she can harass me into coming and I’d bring you along?”

Rolling her eyes, she crosses her arms over her chest and leans back on the tree. 

Rejecting the call, Sky raises his brows. “What’s up with”, he gestures to her, “all that attitude?”

“You’re super close to two of your ex-girlfriends and I’m trying to be cool about it. Honestly.”

Chuckling, he nods in amusement. “Tell that to your face.”

Shrugging, she scowls. “I hate feeling like this.”

“I kinda like it”, he remarks. “Means you care. Just don’t blast anyone into a tree.”

“Ha-ha”, she grimaces. “Now text her that we’ll be there.”

“You sure?” 

Nodding, she bites her lower lip. She can be annoyed by it all when the danger’s passed. Besides, she’s not too worried about Sky straying. No matter how hard she tried to fight it, he’s in love with her and the history they share is stronger than anything he had with others.

Holding out his arm for her, Sky smirks as she peels away from the tree and links her arm with his. 

“Let’s find us a Blood Witch.”

Parting with Sky felt like a piece of her heart left with him. It was only to get ready for the party, but she didn’t like being away from him knowing a Blood Witch is close by. If they’re at this school, they know Bloom isn’t the only one that can pose a threat to their plans and that means whoever Y/N cares about is in danger. 

When Rosalind chose to use Sky as leverage during training, she showed everyone he was important to Y/N. It paints a target on his back for everyone looking to get their hands on Y/N and that’s just another reason why she’s uneasy about the distance between them. 

Another thing she dislikes is Sky deciding to meet up at the party because he wanted to talk to Riven. It prolongs the torture of not knowing he’s alright and she can’t help the dread wrapping around her intestines, twisting and turning until she can hardly keep down her stomach contents.

The first thing Sky does upon entering the party is taking a proper look at the people who’ve already arrived. It’s hard to tell in the darkness, but he’s fairly certain Y/N didn’t arrive yet. He would expect her to text him when she’s on her way, but then again, she could have easily forgotten. 

To his left, Aisha is downing a drink like it’s a cure for all that ails her. Deciding he could use a drink too, Sky joins her.

Lifting up her cup, Aisha smiles, already tipsy. “I’m drinking!”

“I can see that”, Sky chuckles as he brings the cup to his lips. Frowning at the bitter taste of stale beer, he grimaces. 

“Cheap alcohol mixed with different cheap alcohol,” Aisha states.

“Mhmm”, he clears his throat, dropping the cup back on the table. “Uh, keep at it then and I’ll just…uhh find Riven.”

“He’s probably making out with someone in the corner”, Aisha jokes.

“Or vomiting”, Sky shrugs before leaving to look for Riven. 

Despite his original thoughts, the last thing Sky expected was to find Riven talking to Musa. It seems as if he actually enjoys the conversation, his eyes never leaving the mind fairy. 

Chuckling, Sky shakes his head. Isn’t he the one who warned Sky to stay away from mind fairies, claiming they fuck with your mind? It’s actually nice to see him eat his own words for a change. 

Deciding he can catch up with Riven later, he leans on the wall and looks around. Someone here could be the Blood Witch and he doesn’t know how to feel about it. 

“You’re here”, Bloom joins him, a drink in her hand. “Alone.”

“So are you”, he notes. “Unless you count that drink as company?”

Shrugging, she takes a sip. “I’ve been busy theorizing who the Blood Witch might be all day. I need a break.”

“Any theories worth sharing?” Sky raises a brow, hoping Bloom could help shed some light on this enemy. He’ll accept any help available.

“I didn’t, but Sebastian did.”

Glancing at her, Sky nods. “Like?”

“It could be anyone”, she looks at the dance floor. “A student”, she begins. “A professor”, her gaze shifts to the new alchemy teacher who joined them at the party. “The catering staff”, she shrugs before turning her body toward Sky. Licking her lips, she tilts her head lightly, “Or someone close to us.” Placing a hand on Sky’s chest, she smiles. “Someone we trust.”

“Me?” Sky scoffs.

“Y/N”, she remarks. “We all know she’s never quite been right in the head and everyone says she’s been an outsider in Alfea from the start.”

“Same could be said about you”, Sky narrows his eyes. Pulling her hand off him, he steps to the side to create some distance. “You’re fairly new with a lot of power you can’t control as well as you like to believe.”

Meanwhile, Y/N stands in front of the mirror, her eyes fixed on her reflection. She's wearing a seductive red party dress, intricately designed with a plunging neckline and a thigh-high slit. The dress accentuates her curves, making her look even more alluring. She takes a deep breath and checks her makeup, making sure everything is perfect.

As she steps out of her room and makes her way to the party, she can feel the eyes of the other partygoers on her. Once inside, she sees Sky standing across the room, talking to Bloom. Pursing her lips, her nostrils flare as she watches Sky move away from Bloom. 

Their eyes meet, and she can see the shock and admiration in his gaze. He steps closer, licking his lips as a smile spreads across his face.

Sky can't believe what he's seeing. Y/N looks absolutely stunning in the red dress, and he can feel his heart beating faster in his chest, screaming for her to come closer. Y/N’s head is held high, slowly moving toward him across the dance floor. Most students move out of her way, some in fear, and others in astonishment he shares. Sky's never seen her look so confident and alluring before, and he can't take his eyes off her.

As Y/N approaches him, Sky's breath catches in his throat. He can see the way the dress hugs her curves and the way her hair falls softly around her face. He feels a sudden surge of desire, his pants becoming tighter as he imagines how good that dress will look on the floor when they find a moment to themselves.

"Wow," Sky says, his voice low and husky. "You look amazing."

Y/N smiles, feeling her cheeks flush with heat. She can see the desire in Sky's eyes, and it sends a shiver down her spine. Everything she wants is right there, inches away and she can’t help the way her heart jumps when his hand brushes her cheek as he leans in to peck her cheek. 

Grabbing his collar, she keeps him close.

"Thanks," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "You look pretty good yourself."

Sky chuckles, feeling his heart swell with affection. No one has this amount of power over him and there’s no doubt in his mind that she can bring any man to their knees without ever using her magic.

To him, Y/N is magic.

“Everyone’s looking at you”, he informs her as his eyes follow where the neckline of her dress leads. “I might have to show them you’re mine.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing I only care about where your eyes wander”, she grins. Tilting his head with her index finger on his chin, Y/N pecks his lips. “Now, we can look for Stella.”

Looking over his shoulder, Sky looks to Bloom. “Do you know where Stella and the others are?”

“I just got here”, Bloom responds.

“I saw Aisha drinking nearby the entrance and Musa was talking to Riven.” 

“Riven?” Y/N raises her brows.

“Guess he thinks mind fairies are interesting after all.”

Shaking her head fondly, she turns back to the dance floor. Students are dancing again, mostly inebriated. Usually, it would make them easier to read, but she can’t sense any malicious intents and she doesn’t know if it’s truly the case or if there are too many of them for her to properly focus.

Groaning, she takes a few steps closer, looking at their individual auras, but none jump out as particularly hostile. 

Grabbing Sky’s hand, she walks into the hallway behind them, Bloom following behind. “No one here is plotting to kill us.”

“Yeah, but can they conceal themselves?” Bloom asks. “If they have the scrapers stealing our powers, maybe they can use those powers to conceal their true intentions?”

“Maybe”, Y/N admits. “If we had someone specific in mind, I could dive in and make sure if they’re a Blood Witch, but this is too wide of a search.”

“Right”, Bloom presses her lips in a thin line. “Well, we tried. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my cup is empty.”

Sighing, Y/N rests her hands on her hips. “I feel useless.”

“You’re not, though.”

“Thank you for saying that, but I failed spectacularly.” Huffing, she looks to the door with a small frown. “We should go back and try to enjoy the party.”

Placing a hand on the small of her back, Sky pulls her closer to him. “Or we can go back to one of our rooms and party on our own.”

Biting her lower lip, she tries to suppress a smile. “Your offer is tempting, but I actually like the song they’re playing.”

Rolling his eyes playfully, he nods. Leading her to the door, he opens it for her. “Ladies first.”

The night turned into a blur. It was easy to forget about their worries with music numbing their senses and the spiked punch certainly helped as well. For once, Sky saw Y/N without a care in the world. She didn’t seem weighed down by anything, laughing and dancing, free of the burdens this world placed on her. 

Stella, Musa, Riven, Terra, and Flora joined them on the dance floor and Sky felt more at ease too. With most of his friends there, Y/N was safer and he could relax as well, have a few drinks too much and just enjoy this moment. 

With an arm tightly wrapped around Y/N, Sky walked out of the party a little before dawn. 

“Want to continue this party on our own?” Y/N wiggles her eyebrows, her smile bright.

Exhaling loudly, Sky shakes his head. “You're not sober enough to have sex.” 

Stepping in front of him, she runs her finger down her plunging neckline, making Sky groan.

“Are you sure”, she raises her eyebrows. “I’m sure we’ll both agree it was consensual.”

Dragging a hand over his face, he rests it over his heart. “Stop trying to kill me and allow me to be a gentleman.”

Shrugging innocently, she starts walking. “Okay…I guess I’ll have to find a way to party on my own.”

“You’re not playing fair!”

Despite Y/N’s teasing, Sky left her in her dorm with a heavy heart…and a situation in his pants he was planning on taking care of the moment he gets back to his room.

Waking up with a major headache wasn’t quite as enjoyable. Having to take a few shifts as a guard was even worse. He’d barely see Y/N in the day, catching a few glimpses of her in class. The strongest fairies would train outside, practicing the deadliest ways of directing their magic and while Y/N still struggles with control, Sky could tell she’s got a better grasp of her powers.

It would be three days before they had a proper moment to see each other again, agreeing to meet their friends at a bar outside the confines of Alfea. 

“I missed you”, Y/N smiles against his lips, wishing they could skip the bar and just kiss all night long. 

“I know what you mean”, he sighs. “It’s torture when we’re apart.”

Taking his hands in hers, she intertwines their fingers. “And heaven when we’re together.”

Nodding, he brushes his nose against hers, enjoying the way she beams at him. 

Opening the door for her, he sighs as his phone rings. “Probably Riven wondering where we are.”

“Any idea how dangerous it is out there?” 

Rolling his eyes, Sky looks around. “Oh yeah, it's... it's terrifying.” 

“Who is it”, Y/N whispers.

“I want you back before sundown”, Saul orders. 

“Or what?” Sky challenges.

“Excuse me?” 

“Trying to figure out the consequence.” Leaning on the car, Sky continues. “Will it be a Silva-style lecture or a Rosalind-style torture? It's hard to nail down your moral center lately.”

Smacking his arm lightly, Y/N shakes her head at him. She keeps hoping Sky will forgive Saul, but it’s like a festering wound that never heals. 

“Sky, whatever your feelings are towards me, put them aside. You're speaking to your commanding officer.”

“Let me talk to him”, Y/N whispers, but Sky waves her off.

“Don’t drink and stay aware of your surroundings.” 

“I always do”, Sky remarks. “I'll be back at a reasonable hour.”

Hanging up the phone, he finds Y/N glaring at him.

“What?”

“That was a bit harsh”, she notes.

Closing her door, he gets inside as well, starting the car.

“He loves you”, Y/N tries.

“I know, okay? I’m well aware.”

“So what’s the problem?” Tilting her head, she places a hand on his knee. “You don’t have to talk to me but talk to someone. Don’t bottle it up.”

“He lied to me”, Sky clenches his jaw. “My life was a lie and he wants me to move on like nothing ever happened? He was gone and I learned the truth and I could finally be my own person.” Squeezing the steering wheel, he sighs. “I felt free for the first time in my life and then he came back and I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Saul’s only looking out for you. He’s probably worried about how you’ve dealt with the whole thing, especially the way Andreas is.”

“So, he scared him away?” Sky glances at her, a lump growing at the back of his throat as he turns his gaze back on the road. “Andreas has barely said anything to me since the banquet.” Biting his lower lip, he continues quietly as if every uttered word brings pain. “Right when I was…starting to get him.”

“I don’t think he’s like that because of Saul or you”, Y/N gives his knee a light squeeze in reassurance. "I think he’s having a hard time dealing with Beatrix missing.”

“You’re probably right”, he sighs. “He left me and then decided to raise someone else’s daughter and I’m still here overthinking everything he says or does.” Chuckling dryly, Sky shakes his head. “I just wish I knew why he did it.”

“I could get him to tell you anything you want to know”, Y/N offers.

Chewing the inside of his lip, Sky blinks fast. He’s considering it, but what good would it do? Is there an answer that could satisfy him? 

“I love you”, he states, “but no. I don’t want to risk alienating him more.”

Nodding, she forces a smile. “In that case, let’s forget about everything. We can let loose for a night.”

“And how will we get back?” He raises his brows, a small smile on his lips.

Pausing, she sighs. “Alright, YOU can let loose and I’ll babysit you and then drive us back.”

“You’re gonna be sober all night?”

“I don’t even like drinking”, she shrugs. “It makes me lose control and I can’t afford to lose control now.”

“Okay then”, Sky reaches for her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Be my guardian angel for the night.”

“I’m always going to be your guardian angel”, she promises.

She meant it. And whether Sky was aware of it or not, that night she’d prove just how far she’d go to protect him. The night that began as fun with dancing, laughter, and making out quickly came to a horrific end.

Seeing the girls arguing, Y/N excused herself to see what was happening. 

“We have to do something”, Stella insists. “The specialists are wasted, but I could grab…”

“Nobody’s grabbing anyone until I’m told what’s happening”, Y/N crosses her arms.

“Stella thinks she knows where Beatrix is being held”, Musa tells her.

Eyes wide, Y/N glances at Sky raising his drink and laughing. 

“How do you know?” Y/N’s eyes darken. 

“She texted me”, Stella shows her phone. 

Shaking her head, Y/N laughs cynically. “It’s a trap.”

“Maybe, but we still have to try”, Stella exclaims. “I’d do it for any of you. Why isn’t anyone willing to do it for Beatrix?”

Chewing on her lips, Y/N inhales sharply. “We should call Silva and see what he thinks.”

“We don’t have time for that”, Stella remarks.

“Either way, I won’t let you put us all in danger over a text.” Swallowing thickly, she takes her phone out. “I’ll be right back and we’ll figure it out then.”

Checking on Sky once again, she smiles when she sees him hugging Riven. He’ll be fine for a few minutes.

Dialing Saul, Y/N gnaws on the soft flesh inside her left cheek. Glancing around, she lets out a shuddered breath as she puts the phone to her ear. It rings once. Twice. Three times.

“Did something happen?” Saul’s voice startles her.

Licking her lips, she sighs. “Someone sent Stella a text from Beatrix’s phone with an address.”

“Don’t go there”, Saul all but growls. “Send me the address and I’ll assemble a team.”

“No, shit. I was about to walk into what’s clearly a trap and decided to call you so you know how stupid I am.”

“I trust you won’t do it, but the rest of your friends don’t usually think. They just do and always live to regret it.”

Running a hand through her messy hair, she sniffles. “What do I do if they don’t listen to me?”

“Use your magic.”

Nearly choking on her spit, she coughs. “Absolutely not!” Clearing her throat, she frowns. “I’m not about to risk lobotomizing all of my friends.” 

“Then I need to be quicker than them. Text me the address and make sure to stall them.”

Sniffling, she nods. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

Sending him the address, she lets out a long, heavy exhale. Maybe Saul is right? If they decide to go to the location, they’ll be in danger she can’t save them from. 

Shaking her head, she rubs her temples. No one would forgive her if she did that, Sky especially. But then again, letting them go would be worse. At least they’d be around to hate her, instead of buried six feet under.

Shivering with the wind, Y/N walks back inside only to find the guys are gearing up.

With quivering lips, she rushes to Sky who was already dressed, ready for combat.

“Sky!” She pulls him by his shirt to get his attention. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Without so much as a glance her way, Sky sheaths his sword. “We’re going after Beatrix.”

Gulping, Y/N’s lips part. “Stella told you?”

“If by that you mean she told me she knows where Beatrix is, then yes. Would have been nice if my girlfriend told me, but then again, you’ve always been fond of secrets.”

Taking a step back, she bites her bottom lip. “That’s not fair. I would have told you, but this is a trap and I called for backup instead of rushing into danger blindly.”

Turning to face her, Sky’s ocean-blue eyes have frozen over as he looks down at her. “You called Saul?”

“The Blood Witches are trying to lure fairies to steal their magic and if they get to kill Specialists while they’re at it, I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to.”

“We’ve been training for this”, Sky reminds her. “Specialists can take out scrapers, while mind fairies can protect us from Blood Witch magic.”

“I’m in”, Musa raises her hand.

“So am I”, Y/N states readily. The last thing she wants is to let them all go in this alone. If there’s anything she can do to help, she will. 

“You’re not coming”, Sky exclaims instantly. 

Scoffing, she raises her eyebrows. “I don’t remember asking for permission.”

Grabbing her by the arm, Sky’s eyes narrow and his grip tightens as he steps closer to her. “Your powers are too volatile to be of any help. You’re not coming and that’s final.”

Her chin trembles but her eyes never falter as her anger begins to surface. “Trying to intimidate me with brute force, huh? You once told me to take your brain for a joy ride if you ever hurt me and right now I’m seriously considering that.”

Sky’s grip only tightens, and Y/N can feel the pressure of his fingers digging into her skin. “Threatening me won’t work, Y/N. The only way you can keep me here is by using your magic, but know we’ll be over if you do.”

Trying to pull away from Sky, she grimaces in pain. “And we both know you can’t stop me from coming, so let me go or I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

“I don’t think any of us should go”, Bloom speaks up. “It’s not safe for fairies.” Looking at Y/N, she adds, “Any fairies. We’re gonna go back to Alfea.”

“I’m going”, Y/N repeats. “Saul is on the way and I am not letting the boys walk into a death trap with no one to help them.”

“What can a fairy with out-of-control abilities truly do?” Sky crosses his arms. 

Clicking her tongue, she ignores the hurtful comment. “Go”, she tells the girls. “Musa or I will text you if we find Beatrix.”

Heading to the door, she holds her breath. Most times she’d tell herself Sky was just saying that to make her angry enough to stay, but she can’t help it. When the doubts come from him, they always find their mark.

She sat in the car, waiting for them to follow. Swallowing the lump at the back of her throat, she lets out the breath she was holding. Sky, Riven, and Musa sit with her, while the other few take the other car.

No one really spoke during the short drive, the tension growing thicker as they approached the lodge.

“Saul isn’t here yet”, Riven states. 

“He should be on his way”, Y/N checks her phone, but he’s sent her no messages. “Should we wait?”

Glancing at the other Specialists getting out of the car, she shakes her head. “Guess not.”

Pulling her hair up in a ponytail while Sky, Musa, and Riven leave, she leaves her phone on the passenger’s seat. The last thing they need is Stella calling when they’re trying to sneak around.

“A playground would be less creepy?” 

Sky’s voice leads her to where they went. She doesn’t say anything, closely following behind, nervously looking around for signs of Blood Witches. The wind whistles through the trees, and the moonlight casts eerie shadows across the path ahead.

The lodge comes into view, and it looks even more ominous up close. The windows are boarded up, and the door hangs off its hinges. The group pauses before entering, all on edge in case it's a trap.

Y/N’s fingers tingle with magic awakening as if to warn her there’s something amiss. A shiver runs down her spine as they step inside, the darkness enveloping them. They move carefully, taking each step with caution.

The air is thick with dust, the only sound heard inside is their soft footsteps. Suddenly, Y/N hears a creaking noise and her heart races. She turns towards Sky, who nods at her reassuringly, letting her know he's got her back. Despite the harsh words he threw in her face, Y/N knows he wouldn’t let her get hurt and that scares her the most. She’d much rather be the one who takes all the pain, as long as he gets out of here unscathed.

They make their way further into the lodge, searching for any signs of danger. Y/N can feel her pulse pounding in her ears as they turn a corner. Y/N pauses, turning to Musa.

“She’s here”, Musa whispers. 

“Upstairs”, Y/N confirms. “But something doesn’t feel right.” 

“What does that mean?” Riven asks, cautiously looking around.

“I don’t know how to explain it, but I don’t think we are here alone.”

Heading for the stairs, Musa turns to the group. “In that case, we’ll be quick.”

Reluctantly, Y/N walks after Sky and Riven who follow Musa. The room they enter is small, the smell of mold overwhelmingly strong. The roof is leaking, and the floor is drenched by the flooding. 

“Beatrix”, Musa runs to the small figure lying on the floor. “She’s still alive”, she exclaims happily.

“Let’s get her and go”, Sky urges Riven, moving toward the girls.

Y/N can't shake off the feeling that someone, or something, is watching them, waiting to attack.

Her eyes dart around, scanning the dark corners and shadows, but she sees nothing. Still, the feeling persists, gnawing at her gut like a predator stalking its prey.

“If she’s unconscious, how did she text Stella?” Musa asks, looking at Riven with concern.

Tension in her chest is making Y/N's magic hum restlessly under her skin. Y/N's eyes widen as she sees movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she turns, nothing is there.

"Guys," she whispers urgently, her voice barely above a breath. "We need to get out of here. Now."

Just as the words pass her lips, the sound of slithering and chittering fills the room and Y/N finds herself pulled back and behind Sky.

“Scrapers”, Riven grumbles under his breath.

“Just what we needed”, Sky mutters.

Everything after that felt surreal.

The creatures appeared out of nowhere, their sharp claws and teeth glinting in the dim light of the lodge. Y/N and Musa were taken by surprise, frozen in terror as the scrapers lunged at them.

Sky and Riven reacted quickly, drawing their swords and aiming their arrows at the scrapers. But the creatures were fast and agile, dodging their attacks with ease.

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes flashing purple as she summoned a burst of energy, sending it toward the scrapers but it had no effect just as Rosalind told them.

Sky and Riven fought with all their might, their swords and arrows glinting in the dim light. Y/N could see the strain on their faces as they tried to protect her and Musa.

She knew they were outnumbered, and the odds were against them. 

Noticing Andreas walking in, Y/N’s eyes widen as Sky sees him too.

“Andreas?” His voice is filled with uncertainty as Andreas stares at them menacingly. 

“There’s something wrong with him”, Musa warns. “He’s not Andreas.”

Turning to Y/N, Sky grabs her forearm. Forcing her to look at him, his eyes plead with her while his lips form an order. “Run.”

“What about you?” 

“If they catch you, they’ll be unbeatable”, Sky reminds her. “Run!”

Everything inside her told her to stay, but her legs moved on their own accord. She needed to get help or she might never see Sky again. 

Catching a glance of the fight as she disappears down the stairs, Y/N yelps as a scraper latches onto her wrist. Slamming it against the wall, she groans as it falls off, blood gushing out of the wound. Rushing, she ducks, narrowly escaping yet another one only to scream out when sharp teeth break the skin on the back of her neck and a few more bite onto her legs.

Shaking, she grips it tightly, sinking her fingernails into the creature as a soft violet light emanates from her glowing skin. Its jaw relents as she reaches the door, tossing it to the ground before grabbing a rock and slamming the door behind her. Smacking the three scrapers with the sharp edge of the rock, she manages to detach them from her legs, realizing they’ve already gotten a taste.

Gasping for breath, she runs her hand across her neck. Her skin is still glowing, but she can hardly contain her powers as the pain intensifies. What happens if she loses it? 

Pushing the thought away, she focuses on Sky. He’s just one floor above her, fighting his father who is likely under the influence of the Blood Witches. She’s supposed to be a mind fairy capable of fighting them, of protecting Specialists, but she’s hiding in a dark room like a coward.

Biting her quivering lips, she closes her eyes. If she’s got all this magic wanting a release, she might as well find a useful way to do it.

She’s felt a presence since the moment they walked into this lodge, but a part of her was afraid of exploring it, worried it would alert them of her presence if they weren’t already aware.

There’s no reason to hide anymore. 

Searching through the dark, she could see an outline of a person as it fights with a sword. He’s attacking without respite, pushing his opponent into the wall.

“Andreas”, she whispers under her breath. The Blood Witch is in his mind, forcing him to do this. Disarming the man in front, he points the tip of his sword against the man’s throat.

Sky. He’s fighting Sky.

With fierce determination, she closes her eyes and channels all of her magic toward Andreas. She can feel his body trembling, and she knows that the Blood Witch can sense her and is fighting back. But Y/N isn't going to give up, not when Sky’s life is at stake. All of her is focused on pushing the Blood Witch out of Andreas' head. She can feel the witch's power pulsing through her veins, trying to take control of her as well. But Y/N refuses to let that happen.

Suddenly, she feels a jolt of pain shoot through her head, and she cries out in agony. But she doesn't stop. She keeps pushing, using every ounce of strength she has to force the Blood Witch out.

The room is filled with the sound of crashing furniture and shattering glass as her powers begin to explode from within her and slam everything in the room against the walls. She can hear Silva’s voice through Andreas, feeling his muscles tighten as he swings his sword toward Sky. 

“No”, she trembles violently as Silva blocks his attack, allowing Sky enough time to grab a sword too.

As they begin to fight, Y/N struggles to stand her ground with the Blood Witch. They’re incredibly powerful, using Andreas like a puppet. 

He knocks Sky back, only to push Silva against the wall, his sword under his throat. Pushing further, Y/N could hear Saul choking, trying to draw breath but to no avail. Sky’s beside her…beside Andreas, begging for him to let Saul go.

Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I cared.  Andreas tells her.

“Tell him yourself!”

Hands forming fists, she grits her teeth. If there was ever a time for her to let the beats out, this is it. With a scream, she lets all of her magic flow into the fight, managing to break the connection.

With a clear mind, Andreas looks to Sky. “Do what you have to do. Please.” 

The connection was broken, indeed. But only for a moment. The presence returned, pushing against Y/N with a strength she never encountered before. Her body feels like it's on fire as she struggles against the powerful grip of the Blood Witch, their dark energy coursing through her veins, trying to take control of her own mind.

Y/N is fighting back with all her might, using every bit of her own magic to push against the Blood Witch's influence. But the more she struggles, the stronger the Blood Witch seems to become, its grip on Andreas' mind tightening. She can feel herself starting to weaken, her own magic failing her as the Blood Witch's power overwhelms her. She’s losing the fight, Andreas is already attacking Saul and Sky again.

Desperately, Y/N tries to hold on, but it’s of no use. She’s failing Sky and she’s failing everyone in Alfea. Sky was right…she’s of no use to them.

And that’s when she feels a sharp pain in her stomach, a coldness spreading from it to her limbs, darkness overtaking her senses. The last thing she remembers is an oddly familiar whisper echoing in her mind. 

You lose. 

PART 12 

[areyoudreaminof]

A Quiet Dreamer: An Elain Archeron Playlist

Here is the long in the works Elain playlist! I was too scared to post it because I didn't think anyone would be interested. But now, I don't care! Music is magic and sensory. Elain is light and kindness, life and power. She's got so much to offer. Listen here! And come take a lyrical deep dive on the tracklist behind the cut!

Oh, What a World-Kacey Musgraves

Northern lights in our skies Plants that grow and open your mind Things that swim with a neon glow How we all got here, nobody knows

These are real things These are real things

Oh, what a world, don't wanna leave All kinds of magic all around us, it's hard to believe

Helplessness Blues-Fleet Foxes

If I know only one thing, it's that everything that I see Of the world outside is so inconceivable Often, I barely can speak Yeah, I'm tongue-tied and dizzy And I can't keep it to myself What good is it to sing helplessness blues? Why should I wait for anyone else? And I know, I know you will keep me on the shelf I'll come back to you someday soon myself

When I'm Asleep-Jesca Hoop

With every beat my heart's skipping You'll know what I'm made of I keep light on and the bed warm Shelter from the storm and I'm keepin' our love

Victory Dance-My Morning Jacket

Should I close my eyes and prophesize Hoping maybe someday come? Should I wet the ground with my own tears Crying over what's been done? Should I lift the dirt and plant the seed Even though I've never grown? Should I wet the ground with the sweat from my brow And believe in my good work?

Hey there, I'm flying up above Looking down on the tired earth I can see, I can see potential

My Body is a Cage-Arcade Fire

I'm living in an age That calls darkness light Though my language is dead Still the shapes fill my head I'm living in an age Whose name I don't know Though the fear keeps me moving Still my heart beats so slow

My body is a cage that keeps me From dancing with the one I love But my mind holds the key

I Speak Because I Can-Laura Marling

I speak because I can To anyone I trust enough to listen You speak because you can To anyone who'll hear what you say

The Bug Collector- Haley Heyndrickx

Oh, and I digress 'Cause I must make you the perfect morning And I try my best To prove that nothing's out to get you

Morning Sun-Dave Bixby

The sun in the morning The new day is dawning Look out your window And see yourself walking Through fields of love And the sky up above Is with you

Queen of Peace-Florence + The Machine

Oh, the queen of peace Always does her best to please It isn't any use Somebody's gotta lose

Atomic Number-case/lang/veirs

I'm not the freckled maid I'm not the fair-hair girl I'm not a pan of milk for you to spoil Why are the wholesome things The ones we make obscene?

Red Heart-LAYLA

I'm all stolen, curious Bright, oblivious Eluding gravity I'm a super-realist Absurd thrill for this life I see I've got a red heart I've got a gold spark

I Will Love Again-Bat For Lashes

One of these nights One of these days I will love again Oh, I was a deer in the lights I was lost in the waves But I will love again

Heartbeat-VÉRITÉ

Can you feel my heartbeat Pounding into nothing? Broken bones are floating In my empty body Can you feel it reaching Moving through the feeling?

Flowers-Anais Mitchell

Dreams are sweet until they’re not Men are kind until they aren’t Flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart Is anybody listening? I open my mouth and nothing comes out Nothing Nothing gonna wake me now

Flowers, I remember fields Of flowers, soft beneath my heels Walking in the sun

Into the Surf-Foals

There's a lighthouse in the dark, a garden in the past Under bruisings of a night sky Be like water, when I rise Plant a jasmine in the night

Dreams-Fleetwood Mac

Like a heartbeat drives you mad In the stillness of rememberin' What you had and what you lost And what you had and what you lost

Third Eye-Florence + the Machine

Hey, look up You don't have to be a ghost Here amongst the living You are flesh and blood And you deserve to be loved And you deserve what you are given And oh, how much? 'Cause there's a hole where your heart lies And I can see it with my third eye

[crystallizedkingdoms]

his orpheus & her eurydice

Orpheus trusts that Eurydice is behind him. The devotee loves so hard she trips her muse.

wc: 5,179 / tw: (canonical) major character death, (canonical) suicide

you can also read this on ao3 <3

— Nulla. Myths

Myths are everlasting. They exist on the tongues of the ancients who told them, they travel through the fingers of those who wrote them down, and they spread through the minds of every single person who has ever heard them. They twist and they turn, and though they may change beyond our comprehension, they are still their myths. Those myths exist in the heart of every person. 

Some more than others.

These myths still walk among us. Their tongues, fingers, and minds intertwine in our lives in the form of flesh and bone. Reenacted myths cycle in our world, always living, never dying. Though they may look different, adapting to the changing times of the world around them, these stories still rush like the waters of the River Styx.

Look behind. See for yourself. Orpheus and Eurydice are no longer the Ancient Greek lovers that you remember. Gone are the days where the human man Orpheus brought gods to tears with his music. Gone are the days where the Auloniad woman, Eurydice, danced in fields of tall grasses and red carnations.

Orpheus lives in the heart of a woman that has music coursing through her veins as she searches for a life better than the one that came before. Orpheus’ new name is Vella Wilde, and she has begun her descent into the Underworld, crawling into a humid manhole. 

Eurydice lives in the heart of a man with snake bites on his lips, not his ankle. There is a weight on his precious soul that drags him down, down, down, far beneath the tall grasses and dirt. Eurydice’s new name is Rory Mancer, and he has been trapped in the Underworld for far too long.

Unlike their forms, the rules of their myth— of all myths— have remained the same. A myth has an ending, even when it is told countless times. We know the story like the back of our hand, don’t we? Eurydice follows right behind; out of sight, but never out of mind. Orpheus can not look back at Eurydice. He looks back anyway.

Look behind. This is the story weaved into Fate. The Moirai keep watch as they always have.

There is no other ending to this story.

—

I. Clotho

Vella holds Rory’s hand behind her as she leads them out of the sewer. His head hangs low, his blond hair obscuring his eyes, but Vella can hear his breathing has improved and that’s all she can ask for right now.

They’re almost out. Although the sewers twist and turn, distorted by the presence of a Soul Survivor, Vella keeps pushing on. The air gets less heavy as they inch closer to their exit, but it clings to her clothes like a desperate lover. Trying to drag her down. She keeps on pushing, watching the two boys in front of her stumble their way out and feeling the boy behind her follow her tail.

She should have known better, Vella tells herself. She should have recognized exactly what Rory meant when he said he felt his sister’s presence in some place as filthy as this sewer. How couldn’t she figure it out? It’s sloppy on her part. Irresponsible.

Vella wonders if it’s her fault. What good was she doing, pretending like there’s some cosmic plan in all of this? Alex always tried to connect some idea of Fate to Sammy, but never before has Vella been more glad that she grew up in a reality where Fate was seen as the sham she is. What good is Fate doing her here?

Vella forces her way through a hazy hole of darkness, the twisted nature of these breaks in reality tiring her to the bone. She couldn’t let that show in her body, though. No, not at all. Not when she can hear Rory’s breathing get increasingly faint as they near the true exit. Winding stairs and broken ladder rungs are all Vella can see as this underworld tries to claim the man behind her. She tightens her grip on the hand inside hers. The weight feels lighter than normal, but Vella tries to believe it’s still his hand. That he hasn’t slipped away.

Some part of Vella wants to look back. It’s a stupid and reckless idea and she knows it. She can’t afford to lose her path when she’s so close to the exit. Especially when she could be endangering someone else’s life instead of just her own. 

But she can’t help but feel this urge, deep in the hole of her heart, to turn back and check on Rory. His breathing is faint and his hand feels like it is slipping away with each passing moment and Vella thinks she might lose him. She has no reason to believe this. So, she does not.

Vella trusts that Rory is behind her.

They climb through the world underneath the surface, trudging back into reality. The crisp breeze of the night air sends a chill down Vella’s spine, and she knows for certain they have finally made it out of the sewers. She allows herself to revel in getting out of that hellscape. She gives herself permission to bask in the cold air and enjoy the presence of solid ground under her feet. Vella doesn’t even notice Rory slipping out of her hand.

The air feels like freedom.

Then Vella gathers herself up. No more time for relief. She can not allow herself more time to avoid thinking about their situation. Okay Vella, think, think, she reminds herself. 

Rory seethes behind Vella. His breath is irregular again. She can sense it without even having to see it. She hears it, a disconcerting rhythm that fluctuates so erratically. She hears it even when the fighting starts and Rory starts yelling so loud and starts hiding his face. 

Vella turns around…

…and sees Rory hunched over on himself. He is still standing. Vella coaxes him to breathe with her. In. Out. Yeah, just like that. Just like that. Her hands roam to Rory’s arms to keep him steady. As if a stiff breeze might knock him over, send him tumbling back down into the sewer’s depths. But Rory is still standing, still breathing, still living. Still with Vella.

All the while Alex keeps fucking talking and saying all the wrong things and Vella thinks she might just tell him off when Rory rips himself out of her grasp. Vella watches as he runs back to his home, taking with him the comfortable weight of his hand and a shortness of breath Vella can’t calm down.

Vella doesn’t realize she’s been so focused on those details until after they’ve all split up. She doesn’t realize how he occupies her thoughts more than anybody else, nor does she realize just how desperate she is to see him again and make sure he’s okay.

Vella doesn’t realize that they haven’t left the Underworld yet.

—

II. Lyre

Gentle arms embrace Vella’s waist from behind and bring a warmth she’s feeling more often at this point in her life. Vella melts into the touch, but not completely. Her arms stay upright to keep her keytar in its proper position, so she can play a familiar tune. Only Rory, who sits behind her wordlessly, is the audience to this melody.

It hadn’t been very long since they met, but Vella feels more comfortable than ever to perform for Rory. Sure, it isn’t much— Vella is far from confident enough to do anything more complex than these simple tunes, much less sing in front of him— but it seems to be enough for him. 

Rory hovers his head above Vella’s shoulder, not quite letting it rest fully, but close enough for her to know he’s there at all. All she can feel of him is his arms around her body and his breath hitting the skin of her neck.

Rory’s breath. Vella closes her eyes as she plays, and without telling them to do so, her fingers play to the tempo of Rory’s breathing. Slow, like all human breathing. In. Out. Vella allows it to flood her senses, and it fills her music to the brim. Like it was meant to be there all along. Gentle and unique. Divine.

But it is strange. At certain points, Rory’s breathing quickens, and his grip on Vella’s body tightens without warning. Vella’s music reflects this change, picking up its pace and becoming messier in the process. It is not intentional, but Vella picks up on it. She wonders if she should ask. She wonders if she should turn her head, look her friend in the eyes, and ask him what he is thinking about.

Vella takes control of her music. She tries not to recreate his breathing. Instead, she plays a song she knows Rory likes. From one of his favourite bands, Vella has tried learning it over the past couple of weeks. She can hardly remember the title, she tried to only remember the simple instrumentals. Something about hope in snow? Not important.

What is important is that Vella plays it easily. It’s recognizable, she realizes, when Rory physically relaxes and stops holding her so tightly. His breathing ebbs back into a normal rhythm and it makes Vella’s heart flutter in a very specific way that she wishes it would stop doing. Vella thinks that this will be enough to make her stop worrying about him. 

But she feels that urge to look back at Rory when she does not hear him hum along to her music. It is such a small thing to focus on, but just like his breathing, she’s become so acutely aware of when he hums along and when he does not. Air tickles her neck and reminds her of his presence, but she is not quite comforted as she usually is. Sing for me, please, she wants to beg.

Vella wonders why she cares so much. There’s a need in her that sprouts like a carnation flower waiting to be nurtured. She pokes and prods at Rory in these subtle ways, hoping that her friend can take it into his hands and fulfill that need. In a friendly way, of course. Just as friendly as his arms around her waist.

Her need hangs in the air like a songbird in flight, but Vella’s mouth does not comply with her heart. She keeps it shut tight and lets her hands sing her worries for her. Besides, if something was wrong, Rory would certainly tell her at this point, right? She can feel his arms around him, evidence of his existence. They are so close. Always getting closer. There is no reason Rory would not tell her if something was wrong, right?

Right. Of course. How could Vella doubt him?

Vella trusts that Rory is behind her.

—

III. Lachesis

Vella wraps her arms around herself to fill the void around her body. Her bed is no longer the soft nest of eiderdown that she crawled into the minute her boss let her live in the apartment above her workplace. Her sheets are warm as they’ve always been, but they stick to her skin like sweat on a brow.

In the dark of the night, in the stench of the lonely, Vella’s bed is a cold, hard cave floor. Her right side aches as she rests on the icy surface. Her skin prickled with goosebumps, her cheek scratched from jagged stone. She should not be here. She should not be cold. She should not be alone.

Right behind her, where she can’t see, Rory sleeps with her. His hands do not touch Vella’s skin as they have for many moons and his arms do not wrap around her body and pull her close as she desires. Vella does not know what he does with his hands now, for she stays agonizingly still and refuses to look at him.

This withholding of touch keeps Vella awake. Her thoughts are plagued with Rory and it infects her weakly beating heart. His distance grows with each passing day. He struggles to talk more than ever before, and rarely talks about the things going on in his life anymore. Vella’s attempts to pry fall short every time, and oh, how many attempts she has had to make recently.

Their search for the robot in the van has come up short time and time again. Rory says he is constantly looking for signs of the van and for Sammy in the meantime, and Vella wonders if that is part of what is making him so reclusive. She thinks about pulling Rory and herself away from the search, telling Alex, Please just give us some space. Let him rest. You can’t keep expecting us to throw everything away for some fake idea of Fate you think connects us to this robot. 

Maybe if she says this, Rory will come back to her. Maybe if she finally breaks free of this web of false cosmic plans, Vella will feel the sunlight shine down through the open mouth of the cave, turn her bed back to plush pillows and soft sheets. Then Rory can wrap his arms around her and pull her close, and she can hear the calm rhythm of his breathing.

Vella closes her eyes, letting the world lapse into darkness. A sudden heave, a quick shudder, breaks the calm. Vella hears Rory’s breathing crashing behind her like a tsunami to shore. It runs like a rushing river, in out in out in out in out. Vella wonders how long he’s been breathing like this. Did it start just now? Has it been happening since they first laid down on this dark cave floor? It is unnaturally fast. A discordant rhythm on the verge of unravelling.

Vella hears the song of her lover’s failing heart and wonders if Rory is really there.

Sing your song so I can hear you, Vella’s heart cries out.

Rory does not follow.

Wrap your arms around me so I can feel you, she begs.

He does not follow.

I can’t see your shadow on these cave walls. Won’t you prove that you will be here for me? We have gotten so far. Every day we’re searching for this, searching for that, and I think I am getting fucking tired of it. Every time we uncover something new, you drift even further from me. Why? Why are we doing this? Why can’t we just stop here? Please. We should just give up. Live normal lives. Working shitty minimum wage jobs and living in shitty homes. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.  

I am scared, Rory.  

Vella swallows thickly. She hears Rory’s breathing slow down. Rolling into a normal rhythm. In. Out. Almost like those breathing exercises Vella gives him when he is having one of his episodes. Like the breathing exercise she gave him the first night they met. It does not comfort her. Comfort is a hard thing to come by nowadays.

But he is there. Rory is there for her, no matter how distant. That’s all that really matters. Just so long as she knows Rory will sleep beside her, in the same bed, on the same rocky ground. That will make this search worth it. That will bring some light into her dark life.

Vella trusts that Rory is behind her.

—

IV. Fall

Vella’s Soul drops beside her feet in doubt.

A sickness corrupts everything in Rory’s room as she stands in it. Vella tastes it in the air and hears it humming in her keytar and feels it deep in her myth-riddled heart. 

She saw it in Rory all day. It was in the way his hands fidget, how quiet he was the entire time she was there. He avoided every gentle inquiry on his wellbeing, deflected every comment on his health, grew stiff when Vella snaked her arms around his waist. All he did was sit and listen to Vella, rarely mumbling under his breath that he had something that needed to be done.

Alex disappeared with the android in the van. No one in their group has found any clue where he has gone. Every plan that Alex had came to a standstill. The boys feverishly work through ONISM to fill in the gap that neither Vella nor Chondra can care for. Vella wonders if this is causing the sudden stress, but no, she knows that can only be a tiny fraction of it all.

Vella hates it. She wants to tear her boyfriend back into the light and let the sun bathe their skin like she’s been wishing for. She hates that Rory won’t talk to her about anything, that he does not rush himself out of the cavernous darkness he has found himself in. She knows better than to think this, but when she sees him so hurried and so fearful, she wonders if he even trusts her to take care of him.

Does he even want to be with you? 

The thought slithers into Vella’s mind and a deep shame tries to stamp the idea to oblivion. How could she think of such a thing at a time like this? How could such a thought, a flicker it may be, occur to her when Rory has done nothing but be with her? Vella stuffs and stamps it out of the front of her mind, wishing with all her might that it can disappear in its entirety.

“Rory,” Vella finally says. She is sitting on his bed right next to him, but she does not face him. She only stares straight at his desk and the crumpled wads of notepapers that lie on it. “Come out with me. Let’s go on a walk?”

Rory shuffles beside her. “It’s late,” he whispers. He is not wrong. The sun has set not too long ago, the lingering light of wine-faced twilight being the only thing that graces Wind Town’s sky. It would not take much longer for true night to raid the world above and cloak the Wind Town residents in the dark. 

“When has that ever stopped us from doing anything?” Vella says, her voice gentle. A twinge of buried bitterness builds in the back of her throat, which she quickly clears. “Come on. Just a little walk around the neighbourhood, then you can walk me halfway to the bus stop. I won’t make you go the whole way this time. How does that sound?” she asks. 

Please, be with me. 

Rory fidgets with his hands. Vella sees it out of the corner of her eye and she has to bite her tongue. “I…” Rory’s breath is steady and slow as he hesitates. She hears it loud and clear. It makes her uncomfortable. Vella is just about to tell him it’s fine if he doesn’t want to, when he continues with a sharp inhale, “Okay. Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

Vella’s heart skips a beat. Songs and poems weave themselves back into the Soul that crawls up her leg and back into her body. Could this be it? she wonders. Rory finally agreeing to leave his home is more than anything Vella can dream of and she can almost taste a sliver of sunlight on her life.

Rory’s hand finds Vella’s on the bed. His long fingers wrap around hers and she holds it tighter than she has ever held him in their entire relationship. “Okay,” she laughs the word out, almost too joyous for an activity as simple as this one. But she does not care what Rory must think of that delivery because all she can think about is leaving with him.

No time is to be wasted. Vella stands from the bed, letting go of Rory’s hand to pat down her skirt. She hurriedly steps over piles of clothing and empty takeout cups. Without turning around, she can not see Rory staring at the hand she held so tightly for a lonesome moment, before shaking his head and getting up to follow her. Rory is right behind Vella as her hand rests on the yellow door’s rusty doorknob. 

Vella turns the knob and opens the door. Immediately, her searching eyes ascend the staircase before she does. They climb up, up, up, travelling the steep incline that ends at a plain white door flecked with dirt stains. She has climbed up and down these stairs so many times, but looking up at it now, a daunting sensation of dread sinks into her skin like snake fangs. 

Vella’s foot finds the first step.

And then the second.

Vella’s eyes fixate on the white door tainted with dirt. The mouth of the cave. The exit of the Underworld. The portal to the surface. It is there, when both Vella and Rory pass that barrier and drink up the last rays of sunrise, that she will make them bloom open. It is in the world of the living that Vella can sing for her lover. Out there is where she will coax him into spilling his true feelings. It is above the dirt where they can truly live.

Her footsteps sound like aged drums, thrumming with every step, but squeaking as they press against, then lift off old wood. The thin walls of this stairwell seem to sing her footsteps back to her. An orchestra that leads her further into her dream.

But Vella only hears her footsteps. Rory follows her. She should hear the squeaking of stair boards right behind her. There should be more drumming. Vella can’t hear them, no matter how hard she tries to strain her ears. Shouldn’t she hear them if he really is right behind her?

Breath catches in her throat. Vella’s lungs drag air inside of them and constantly demand more. Her breath quickens at the realization of the lack of footsteps and she hears it change speed. It echoes faintly, but it is noticeable, and she should be able to hear Rory’s with her.

But Vella only hears her breathing. Rory is supposed to follow her. She should hear his breathing, whether it be unnaturally slow or inhumanly fast, damn it, she should hear it! Vella can’t hear Rory breathing, even when she holds her own breath to catch a singular sound. She should hear them if he really is right behind her.

A thought flickers like a flame in Vella’s mind.

Does he even want to be with you? 

Vella tries to put it out, but the flame only grows with each passing step.

What if all this stress is getting to him? 

Vella cries out in her mind. The fire grows and she can’t ignore it as she could in the past. 

What if he wants to leave you? 

Vella is almost at the door, but the loneliness of these stairs, the uncertainty of it all, makes her feel sick.

What if he doesn’t love you? 

Vella is at the white door flecked with dirt. Right outside is the surface. An end to this long trek through the Underworld that she and her lover have been walking ever since they met. She only has to open it and walk out with him. That is all. That’s the only thing.

What if Rory isn’t behind you? 

Vella trusts that…

Her Orphic heart cries out for its Eurydice. Eurydice, Eurydice, please be there, please don’t leave me, please be with me, please don’t tell me I’m alone, I love you I love you I love you—

Vella turns around.

Her head whips around suddenly and quickly. It is only now that Vella sees him. He is so close to her, right behind her. He always has been. He’s been there the whole time. Right behind her. Never left. And her sudden whipping around catches Rory off guard that he tries to back up. Vella screams. His foot misses the step below.

Rory falls.

He tries to catch himself. His hands claw at the dirty walls, desperate for his second life, but his back soon hits the stairs, and he lets out a yell. He slips down a few more steps, limbs knocking and bruising on every step. He catches himself in the middle of the staircase. Rory has already shifted his body to kneel and hunch over himself rather than be on his back by the time Vella has gathered her senses and descended back down to check on her boyfriend. A privilege her myth has never had.

“Rory!! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Vella cries out, crouching on the stairs in front of him. Her hands roam across Rory’s shoulders, down his arms, up to his face. Searching his skin and examining his reactions to her touch. “Holy shit, Rory, I’m sorry. Are you hurt? That looked awful, fuck, I’m sorry.”

Rory’s head hangs low, his hair obscuring his face. He does not reply.

“Just, god, Rory, talk to me, please,” she chokes on a sob. When he does not do so, Vella reaches her hands up to his cheeks and she makes him look up at her without asking. “Please, say something…”

Rory looks up at her through his long hair and she sees the tears that spill out of his eyes. They flow, fresh and never ending, staining his cheeks and turning his eyes an irritated red. He sucks in a shaky breath, then his body curls in on itself. He sobs loudly, with no attempt to withhold it any longer. “Vella…” he croaks out in between sobs, but he does not get any further than that.

“Oh, Rory.” Vella pulls him close to her body. Rory throws his arms around her and Vella hates how her first thought is oh, finally. She hugs him tighter to make up for it. “Are you okay?” she repeats.

Rory stays in Vella’s embrace without saying a word. He sits there, crying into her clothing and making a mess on these stairs. When he finally pulls away, his breath is ragged, and it is too quick for comfort, but not hyperventilation, so that’s all Vella can be grateful for tonight. “Why did you turn like that?” he asks. “I was right there, I…”

Vella stares into Rory’s teary eyes when she feels a wetness on her cheek. “I thought you weren’t with me,” she admits without even thinking.

“Why?” Eurydice whimpers. Forgiveness clouds his eyes and voice, but he still questions. “Why?” Orpheus does not reply. 

Vella answers by her lips on his, and Rory follows. Their kiss stings with tears and aches with bruises, but they drink it up. Heart to heart and soul to soul. The devotee clings to her dead muse. When they pull away for a gasp of air, they breathe in, breathe out. Then they tug each other back down for one last kiss.

“I’m going to stay.”

“What? Rory, no, please, come with—”

“Vella. I’m hurt.” Rory says that word like it pains him to say it. When Vella looks into Rory’s eyes, she does not catch how it is not just the physical pain he is talking about.

Vella wants to stay. She knows she should. She knows she should still carry out her plan. Someone has to have a direct conversation with Rory and his health, and it has to be her. It’s there, right there, that Vella thinks she can ask him the right questions she should have asked long ago, and can save them both from pain.

“Go,” Rory pushes. “I need some time alone. Without you. Or anyone. Just go.”

Her heart breaks.

But eventually, Vella leaves the Underworld alone, with Rory falling back down into its depths.

There is no other ending to this story.

—

V. Atropos

Songs trickle out of a rotting heart, but Vella finds she cannot sing them.

Vella lays at the River Hebrus, her head resting along its acrylic banks and her body splayed across ceramic pebbles. Her hands loosely play her damaged keytar, creating a haunting tune that echoes among her chosen resting place. She hates it, but her fingers ache to move, urging her to create. She complies with agony.

The Underworld staked its claims on the one she loved. Is that what this reality wanted? His life slipped through her fingers so effortlessly she wonders if she ever really had a grip on it at all. 

What could Vella have done differently? Every scenario pierces her mind and desecrates her Soul until she slumps even further. Were there magic words she could have said to have stopped him? Could just one extra kiss, one extra hug, have pulled him out of his darkness? 

No, no, she knows. Vella knows she should have reached out sooner. She should have pulled them up out of the Underworld far, far earlier than the time he fell down those steps. If she really cared, if she really loved Rory, she should have reached out and demanded he talk to her about what was going on with him. That’s what good girlfriends do. It’s what Vella didn’t do.

Vella lets out a wail, leaning against the acrylic container. Her breath, irregular and unstable, fogs up the stained, off-white basin. She can’t force herself to go through her exercises. She’s gotten so used to doing them with Rory. Now, his breath is still forevermore. How could she possibly do them without him again?

Vella weeps. Her fingers press on each key even weaker than before. She is hardly playing the keys, but the disjointed music flows regardless. It seems these moments, where she’s a shamble of awful music and broken hearts on the bathroom floor, are the only moments she is capable of grief. Outside of this river haven, Vella finds it’s almost impossible to grieve for her lover… or even think of him. When she goes to Alex’s house, and they talk about the dumbest things or prepare for the end of the world, she finds she can’t even probe her mind for the memory of Rory.

Some part of Vella recognizes how disgusting this absence is. How unnatural. It certainly can’t be her doing, as Rory’s death haunts her mind when she is away from the others. Yet every time she tries to confront this aberration, she is pulled back down into the dark tunnel of agony, and she finds herself in her bathroom once again. “Oh, Rory…” Vella cries out his name with as much love as she always said his name. “Rory, Rory, Rory…”

The last Fate has her way, as she always does. She sits atop her twisted throne, cutting the spinning wires as she has always done, with no sense of grief. New Year’s Eve is fast approaching and her final wire is soon to meet its end. Their end is sealed.

Orpheus and Eurydice both follow their Fates.

The maenad wreathed in flame shall set upon Vella Wilde and tear her limb from limb until only her voice remains to sing of Rory Mancer. As it has always been told.

There is no other ending to this story.

[lilacrespite]

━━━━━ 🔮 Llorona Luna Brings the peculiar to pop at Crescent Festival 2023 .

Llorona Luna’s Crescent Fest performance was as much of a celebration of their career and all the people they attribute their success to, as it was a farewell to the Cry Baby moniker that has been a part of their performance art since her debut album. It’s evident that Luna has evolved into an artist more confident in not only her sound, but in the visuals that go along in the stories they’re telling. Unlike their previous albums, where the oddities were found primarily in their lyrics and the aesthetics were much more pastel and soft with slight alterations that left the viewer feeling unsettled, Portals goes leans into the strange and uncomfortable in every song and video we’ve gotten so far. If the performance at Crescent Fest is any indication, it’s only going to get creepier from here and we’re completely strapped in for the ride.

read more below / listen to the set list here / @nepofminspo

The stage was completely black as the opening vocals for Tunnel Vision came through and Llorona Luna invited us into their world for the next hour and twenty minutes. Once the lights go up timed with the beat kicking in, we’re able to see that instead of just a stage outfit, she has opted to perform in the same faerie creature prosthetics inspired by Guillermo Del Toro films, that we’ve seen in the Death and Void music videos. As cool as the four eyes, exaggerated ears, and scaly details throughout looked on stage, it did raise concerns for how their stage presence would come across as no one could see the upper part of their face behind the mask. But she was quick to quell those worries with the choreography. With the help of the dancers, they were able to use their body to express the energy to the audience just as well as her facial expression during previous eras had done. 

They don’t let up as Tunnel Vision ends and goes straight into Faerie Soirée, Womb, and Spider Web all from the Portals album. Fan favorite Show & Tell from K-12 and though the choreography is some we’ve seen before, she’s able to alter it in a way that better aligns with the more mystical story she’s telling now. Known for the contortions and body bending they’re able to do, she teases the audience with subtle tweaks to the Show & Tell choreo that leads into the intense body contorting they do throughout The Contortionist. Each bend is perfectly timed to the bone snapping effect on the track which was enough to make anyone flinch if you weren’t familiar with them beforehand. The backbending and arm twisting offer a beautiful juxtaposition with the waltzing happening with the back up dancers. When Field Trip rolls around right after we’d getting a stronger picture of the story Luna is stilling. The first part of this performance being about their journey as an artist. They come in strong with Tunnel Vision declaring how sure they are of themselves, and as we get further into the set we’re shown glimpses of her relationship with not only the fans but the execs on their team with songs like Spider Web and The Contortionist. Bringing in Field Trip brings us back to the core of who Luna is as an artist. A song that came out during the lull between K-12 and Portals but never performed until now. 

Finding that renewed confidence in themselves leads us to Lunchbox Friends. Certainly, a metaphor for keeping those who support them and bring out the best in them close against all the noise the industry can bring. An assumption that’s proven near the end of the song when Luna brings out close personal friend, Beena Kapoor, to perform the iconic final dance sequence of the song. There’s no hiding the smile on their faces as Luna let’s the audience sing them out and the two share a loving embrace. It’s the perfect set up for the pair that follows.

Her brother, Sebastán Dominguez Herrera, is introduced along with reggaeton master, Bad Bunny, to perform Otro Atardecer. An inclusion that could feel out of place for casual listeners, but Luna has always taken great pride in being Latine and their culture. Bringing out Bad Bunny on a track they worked on with her brother was just another way to showcase how much they appreciate it. The three of them look like they’re having so much fun you almost forget one of them is in a complete creature costume by the end of it. Once the song ends and Bad Bunny exits with much love given to Luna, Sebastián stays and the pair perform the songs Heavy and Hush and it’s a pleasant surprise to hear just how well the sibling’s voices compliment each other. We’re sure the google search for Llorona Luna’s brother was at an all time high that night.

After discussing their friendships, Luna turns the focus to love with another fan favorite from K-12, High School Sweethearts. This segment leans more into an idea of misfortune in love with Notebook and Detention following but the tragedy of it helps to lead us into a full circle moment back to Cry Baby’s origin with Sippy Cup and Cry Baby following suit. The Cry Baby performance is a powerful goodbye to the story that made them, but also a reminder that the dramatics and leaning into the emotional is what led them to something so magical. 

They take us into the last four songs with a song never heard before; Milk of the Siren ( a hint at a deluxe album to come ? ). A dark track about taking down the men who have caused harm and not feeling bad about it. Its choreography is grounded in more classical/ballet moves which makes for a beautiful scene as lights flash and bodies drop with the vocoder on their vocals adding another disorientating layer. She does a great job in making the audience feel like they are following a siren song. Nymphology brings back the high energy choreography and the interaction with the audience is especially heavy. Being in the audience for the performance was its own treat. You could hardly hear Luna singing over the way everyone was screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs with seemingly no end in sight. It almost felt like that should have ended the show, and as the dancers exited the stage it seemed like it would. But once Luna was up there alone the instrumental for signature ‘Into the Void’ opening lines started for Void.

It makes sense for them to be the only ones on the stage for Void considering it's the one song on the Portals Album that they wrote and produced by themselves. It’s clear by the stability in their tone and the energy given to the choreography we’ve seen in the video, that Luna wasn’t using any dancer or band member as a crutch for her performances. She could have done that entire set by themselves and it still would have given the same stellar performance. Death is the final song of the set. A way to show that even if they’re still dealing with some of the anxiety discussed in void that they are back, rising from their little deaths every day, and are here to stay. The final line the audience hears from them is ‘ Please don’t ever worry, I know it’s morbid but we all die one day. ’ a reminder that they aren’t scared to kill off parts of themselves and reinvent themselves into something never before seen.

[digitalsatyr23]

Humans of Arachnia

Many great kingdoms have risen and turned to ash throughout Arachnia's history. People change, migrate, intermingle, and create something new. Though their histories, culture, and origins differ, in the years following the Great Cataclysm, ten primary ethnicities continue to persist.

(Warning: Long post is long)

Gaire/Gairen: Resourceful, hardworking, and adaptable, the Gaire (gai-reh) are the backbone of Boccovia. They are the farmer, the local militia, the lenient guardsman, and the friendly pickpocket. Gairen folk tend to live in small, tight-knit communities near plains and mountains, tending to fields and flocks. Also known as the laughing people, they have endured countless hardships and continued to find happiness and joy in their lives through song and dance. They aren’t pushovers, though. When there’s no one else to answer the call, Gairen take matters into their own hands. They are the ones that carry the torch and the pitchfork. They are the ones that see monsters for what they really are. When they feel that their communities are threatened, these peace-loving commoners can transform into an angry, snarling mob in the blink of an eye.

Gairen are about middle-height compared to the rest of their kin. The Gaire tend to have thin, sinewy muscle and coarse skin from the labor they devote themselves to. Good-humored and good-natured, Gairen have a curve to their mouths that make them look like they’re always grinning. Gairen most commonly have brown eyes, though blue is becoming more prevalent. Their hair could be ashen blonde, wood brown, or charcoal black, which they wear long if they can get away with it. Most Gairen have rosy skin which tans nicely in the midday sun. Gairen women tend to be a bit plumper, both because they like to treat themselves with good food and drink when they can, but also because a bit of fat is looked at favorably, not to mention how handy it is during the freezing winters.

Gairen never write the laws, merely uphold them. While they keep the peace and abide by whatever code is in place, Gairen also look at vigilantes favorably, as they know that laws can only go so far when concerning true justice. Gairen towns and villages are headed by mayors, who help gather taxes to improve on anything needed in the settlement and pay for any military or personal support to help deal with local threats, such as monsters and bandits. A traditional Gairen home involves two working parents, and at least two children who help with cleaning and feeding livestock. With the rise of literacy, Gairen families try to give their offspring the best education they can afford, hoping their children will have better options when they’re all grown up. Since their communities are so small, everyone tends to know everyone, and the local jail may be filled with conversation between old friends sharing a drink between bars.

Magi: A rare and powerful breed of humans, Magi (ma-jai) are the only humans naturally capable of magic who don’t have the blood of supernatural beings in their veins. Through their powers, humanity has achieved greatness. They are the blood and bones of the Empire. As Boccovia has traditionally been a mageocracy, even the weakest Magi are considered nobility. Holding both arcane and political power, they amass wealth and work tirelessly to perfect their arts in their traveling towers. While Magi are an uncommon type of human, they can be found all over Boccovia and many are appointed as lords to watch over settlements. When they aren’t politically inclined, they are usually moving from place to place, trying to unearth whatever arcane secrets were buried by the Great Cataclysm. They are highly intelligent and have greater stamina than their slim forms let on. Perhaps it was their power, perhaps it was their status, but their egos have long since been bloated and they see the rest of humanity as beneath them.

Magi are among the tallest humans. As lanky as they can be overbearing, they tower over their peers and look down on them – both figuratively and literally. Magi have a great deal of physical endurance from a young age, though they rarely develop strong muscles. This is because many forego physical tasks all together by using their arcana to manipulate themselves and objects around them. The brain of a Magi is actually bigger than that of a regular human’s, though their overall size makes the difference hard to notice. Further still within their bodies, there is a unique organ that allows them to absorb small traces of ether like vitamins and it is through this that they are able to naturally use magic. Due in part to their ability to absorb ether, Magi are also less likely to be harmed by mana, and in fact they harbor a natural fascination and obsession with such materials. Magi also have a second heart, and it’s because of this that they can become so physically capable – if only they pushed themselves to do so. Magi can be born with natural hair or eye colors, but are also prone to unusual colors as well. Those born near certain types of mana take on hues similar to them. This is most striking in their eyes which glow in the dark, shimmering with eerie arcane hues.

In spite of the amount of arcane and political power Magi share, they make up only a fraction of the population. For every 1,000 humans born, only a single Magi emerges. Those born as Magi are seemingly random, thought to have been gifted with power through Giccacius’s blessing. Those who hold political offices use their power in a careful and calculating manner, directing workers and resources to seemingly unknowable ends. Settlements that are ruled or at least controlled by Magi have laws favoring magic users. Some Magi have even stressed a potential law to ban the use of magic by non-Magi, but this law is unlikely to pass as it would make finding sorcerers quite difficult. For you see, in order to increase the chances of breeding a new Magi, said Magi will seek out mates of a magical inclination – including humans who draw their lineage from supernatural sources. It is not all that uncommon for a poor farmer to sell off their son or daughter to join a Magi’s harem, though from a practical standpoint this is a life of luxury. Those who join a Magi’s harem never have to worry about food, water, or shelter. They bask in wealth and are always treated well. Another curious facet of Magi are they only use members of their harem for procreation, as they view sex for pleasure as beneath them. Since Magi live in a mageocracy, the best way to rise up in Magi society is to become an arcane master. The ruler of Boccovia (often called the Sage King, despite Boccovia being an empire) is typically the strongest of their flock. If ever a Magi wanted the throne for himself, he need only challenge the Sage King. Prospective usurpers should be careful, however, as even when they defeat the king they still have to pass the tests of The Burning Prophets. These primordial beings are rumored to have been some of the first humans, and it is they that choose a monarch to rule over humanity. Those who they deem unworthy of the throne are smote and absorbed into the bodies of the prophets, and then they seek out a more appropriate ruler. Power isn’t everything in the world of the Magi… You also have to know how to use it.

Geire/Geiren: Once a sprawling civilization of unimaginable wealth and power, the Geire (gi-reh) have long since fallen from grace and are now the cursed denizens of the deserts. They stalk the shadows for shelter from the sun and live out days of solitude in the arid wastelands they call home. Sometimes they delve into the ancient ruins of their ancestors, seeking answers to the curse that has befallen them, while others have long accepted their fate and give thanks for the blessed cold nights under the moon. Geiren are formidable swordsmen, some of which are known to dance beautifully upon the sands while cutting their enemies to ribbons. To cross a Geiren bladedancer is to invite death. To defeat one is to know true mastery of the blade.

Though they tend to hunch over somewhat, Geiren are relatively tall by human standards and their lack of reliable food and water means many are rather thin. Though once colored with a deep brown skin, their ancient curse has left them albino, with pale as the moon skin and equally white hair along with striking red or yellow eyes. It is a common practice, though, for Geiren to use certain plants and berries to make dyes and color their hair, with black being the most common shade. They burn profusely under the sun, and thus most of their hunting and traveling takes place at night. In order for bladedancers to learn the lightning-fast reflexes required of their style, they often hunt bare-handed for snakes and similar creatures. To gain an edge against the desert predators they hunt, Geiren sometimes grow out and sharpen their nails, leading to a somewhat bestial appearance. They dress in flowing dark robes, with men and women alike covering their mouths, only allowing their intent to be viewed from their eyes.

Geire live in small nomadic tribes, settling wherever they can find peace and quiet from monsters, the Scarro, and slavers. Because the desert regions are so rarely traveled by other Boccovians, Geiren and other desert denizens are easy pickings for slavers looking to avoid the law. Though a fully trained bladedancer is formidable, it is all too common for inexperienced youths to meet their ends at the hands of more experienced, better equipped raiders. Those tribes who do have properly trained warriors are able to maintain a certain level of peace amongst themselves, to which they spend much of their time practicing their ritual dances, scavenging for food, and reciting prayers to the gods. In their hearts, they have given up hope for having their cursed lifted, but it is tradition to pray to the gods in the hopes of catching their eye. Another common trait among Geiren that makes them vulnerable to outsiders is they tend to sleep during the day and awake at night, for very little can be done under the blistering sun. The strongest among them do what they can to watch over their slumbering tribesmen and plan out with the village chieftain where to move next.

Scarro: An enduring people, the Scarro (sk-ah-row) have been riding upon the desert plains for thousands of years. Having been attacked by countless civilizations throughout history, the Scarro have persisted. Among their enemies are the Geire, who had once enslaved them, as well as the Black Marketeers who seek to make the same mistake as the Geiren had centuries ago. Powerfully built, passionate and proud, Scarro sandriders are a fearsome lot that have kept their deserts safe from monsters time after time. Though they have made some trade agreements with The Boccovian Empire, they are by and large their own people. They make their homes in the same blistering sands as the scorpions they cherish. The sandriders train young scorpions from an early age and raise them to become gigantic things and ride them into battle, and Scarro even bind weapons into their long hair braids to emulate the stinging tails of the scorpion. They fashion fine armors out of chitin and scout out the plains in search of prey. Once you cross them, you will be hard-pressed to fully escape their grasp.

Scarro are similar in size to the mighty Craeger, and just as muscular. Their skin ranges from bronze to a dark brown, their eyes range from brown, black, hazel, and occasionally a deep green, and their hair is almost always a dark black. The Albina Scarro are known to have much lighter skin and sandy hair. The Red Claw Scarro are incredibly violent and paint their hands with the blood of their enemies, the Crimson Scarro dye their braids with red scorpion venom, and the Tailless don’t wear braids at all, have stark black skin and only operate at night. There are many other tribes of Scarro, though these are some of the most striking beyond the typical dark-haired and brown-skinned sandrider. Scarro typically shave all of their hair except for the braids which they continue to grow and braid with all manner of blades. These “battle braids” as they are called are meant to emulate the vicious sting of scorpions, and the more talented warriors even swing them around in battle, cutting down more than a few surprised slavers and bandits. Scarro don’t wear very much clothing, preferring only to cover the softer and more vulnerable parts of their bodies with linen wraps and chitin armor.

The Scarro are a collection of tribes with similar beliefs and appearances, though as has been explained, some do differ greatly. Their chieftains are their mightiest warriors, and they pay heed only to their kin and the words of the village shaman. Generally, Scarro tribes build homes in one area and continue to scout around a somewhat vague territory, sometimes growing in size and sometimes shrinking. Their homes, or “burrows” as they like to call them, are dome-shaped structures similar to igloos which they build out of clay and eventually paint. A Scarro burrow is a beautiful sight to behold, something that catches many outsiders off-guard due to the Scarro’s perceived savage nature. To many humans, the Scarro appear quite primitive as they have not changed much over the years. But the Scarro believe the life of a scorpion to be sacred and see little reason to use the teachings and technology of other races, especially since they have seen the pain and sorrow certain advances have brought their neighbors. Scarro men are exclusively warriors while Scarro women are gatherers. One of the most sacred duties of their women is the search for water, a scarce commodity in the desert. These water bearers carry clay jugs with them as a means to collect, and are typically escorted by a small band of sandriders. Scarro men take on many wives over the course of their lifetime in order to breed more children, as not all Scarro children make it to adulthood. Their dead are buried deep within the sands, which the Scarro consider an important task. Once buried, they are said to have "returned to the winds." The mourning period for Scarro involve days of passionate cries and circling around the graves on their mounts. Once the mourning ritual is complete, the fallen Scarro’s scorpion is released into the wild, never to be seen again. As the dead are returned to the winds, so too are the scorpions.

Uther/Utheran: Some say the Uther (oo-thur) came from the sea itself and learned to walk on land. Whether this is true or not, the Uther are the finest sailors in all of Boccovia. Sure-footed, adventurous, and free, these pioneers and privateers live along the four corners of Boccovia’s shoreline, fishing, sailing, and keeping sea monsters at bay. Utheran are carefree drunkards, but also soldiers of fortune. Despite their cheerful exterior, they are capable combatants and master strategists. The Uther appear peaceful and halfhearted not because they don’t take things seriously, but because they believe in having fun and enjoying what life has to offer. Their philosophy is "If you’re going to die anyway, why not die alive?" They are the sea-charterers, the treasure seekers, and the runaway lovers.

Uther are similar in height and build to the Losha, for they share a common lineage. Utheran hair comes in shades of red, black, and sometimes even white. Their eyes are most commonly blue, with hazel being the second most common color. They are fair-skinned, though months at sea might leave their skin rough and salt-weathered, and they tan quite easily. Utheran love to tattoo their bodies in dark inks, typically symbols related to family crests, their ships, favored sea creatures, and other things that remind them of their past and make them think fondly of the future. Men and women alike wear their hair long, and what facial hair they can grow is well-loved by other human women.

Sea-faring is an important part of Utheran culture, and as such, their children are taught from an early age how to swim, tie knots, and manage various aspects of a ship. Utheran nobility have military backgrounds and man battleships with which they use to escort merchant vessels across the sea. Even low-born Utheran families own some kind of ship or boat, and many fishermen take their children out to learn how to work cages, lines, and eventually harpoons. Utheran port towns are headed by wardens, who keep close track of trade agreements, shipping logs, and decide who gets to own what kind of ship. Recently, Utheran wardens have been working with Free Tero blacksmiths as part of the mass development of cannons with which military vessels have made great use of in fending off the horrors of the deep. Forms of fencing are commonly practiced among Utheran sailors, and many a salty sailor would not have survived were it not for his trusty cutlass. Pistols have become increasingly common among sailors as well, though they are not always reliable when out at sea. It is common practice for soldiers to carry many guns with them in case one gets soaked or another gun jams due to moisture and salt. The Utheran prize the freedom that sailing gives them, and while they form close bonds with their crew, they are individuals first and last. The best way to get your name out in Utheran society is to spend time out in the ocean, fighting off pirates, raiders, and the dreaded Viscaeren.

Craeger/Craegerian: Said to have emerged from the rock itself, the Craeger (cray-gur) are descendants of the warrior people of Klingenheim, who learned to till what little land they had and fought for the rest. Tough, broad-shouldered, and always looking for a fight, these hardened people from Northern Boccovia first kept the dreaded Viscaeren at bay, then later the horrors of the Acid Sea, known as the Tainted. Craeger are a no-nonsense people, seeking practical solutions to their problems – which leads to violence fairly often. Warriors train and compete with one another, seeking to become the best of their settlement. They welcome the strong, laugh at the weak, yet never yield in their duty to keep their fellow man safe from harm. Woe unto those who draw the ire of a Craegerian village, for once they are set on a warpath, trying to make peace with the Craeger is like trying to push a boulder up a hill.

Craeger are tall and thick-muscled, sometimes appearing ugly to others due to their raw physicality. Even their women are unusually muscular and strong compared to the average human. They are a rough yet fair-looking folk, with wavy red or blonde hair and green or brown eyes. Craeger are sometimes thick-browed, and often sport squat noses. Their hands are ugly, calloused things, worn from hard work and battle. A Craegerian is often littered with scars from their youth, as they do not train with wooden swords. Craeger are loud and even boastful, always prizing the chance to show off their strength and skill in whatever they do.

Before they joined The Boccovian Empire, the Kings of Klingenheim presided over grand feasting halls and passed rings around to the warriors to create a bond between the two classes, while their queens passed around drinking cups for celebration and relaxation. The tradition has not been lost on them, and they still gather under their greatest warrior in the feasting halls to drink to the good times and drink to the bad times. Alcohol is a very important part of Craegerian culture. It gets them ready for battle, it makes them feel great after a successful venture, and is a useful tool for cleaning wounds while away from home. Mead, in particular, is seen as a drink of the gods, the honey-soaked beverage granting visions of valor and paradise. To them, drinking is communing with the gods, or “high lords” as they call them. Anyone who is tough and battle-ready, regardless of gender, is a welcomed addition in their community. Though a two-pair marriage is traditional, it is not uncommon for a warrior to have side-lovers to sate their needs after long days fighting men, monsters, or even worse. To them, their spouse is their cup, and their lovers are the jewels upon the cup – prized and sought after, but not strictly necessary.

Losha/Loshan: Intelligent and captivating, strong-willed and cunning, the Losha (low-shah) are the source of The Boccovian Empire’s military might. Soldiers, scouts, tacticians, and generals, Loshan humans have a knack for commanding a battlefield and charge ever towards victory. Said to be the descendants of the Carthagians, the Losha carry themselves in a proud and dignified manner. Most at home when clad in steel and swinging a sword, the Losha make for fine knights. Losha settlements are found on the western front of Boccovia, with many situated near mountainous terrain at high altitudes. Ambitious to a fault, they are always competing with one another to see who’s the best in their particular field. Strict and disciplined, they view most other humans as lazy, or at worst, immoral. Women are the primary authority figures in Loshan cities, and it is these women who lead the imperial armies in times of trouble… Though at times, the Loshan seem so efficient and self-reliant, one wonders if they need The Empire, or if The Empire needs them?

The Losha are similar in height to the Gaire, with lean athletic builds. Interestingly, women are on average taller than men. Both men and women are made to wear armor from an early age, and a true Loshan is rarely seen without at least a pair of good boots or bracers on. They are fair-skinned, with blue or green eyes, and their hair runs the gamut from black, brown, auburn, and red – with red being the most common. Red hair is seen as a sign of status, and these individuals tend to move up in the ranks in life and eventually become political or military leaders. Loshan have great posture, taught to stand tall and stand proud. To many other humans, the Losha appear beautiful and statuesque – made all the more impressive when wearing imperial armor and riding on a fine steed. They practice strict cleanliness as well, with most men keeping their beards shaven at all times.

Each Loshan has a required military service of three years, starting when they turn 16. Afterwards, they can either return to their towns or branch out and continue to rise in rank. While political and territorial disputes occur between humans every so often, the Loshan fight monsters more often than other humans: giants, beasts, Porga, and especially the Undead. Loshan military expeditions are commonly lead by paladins and undead slayers so that they can hunt down undead wherever they might appear as efficiently as possible. There’s an almost uncanny zeal with which they try to fight off such creatures. They view mistakes as irreversible stains on their lives, and it was them that helped push back the undead scourges into Scauldowa, so now that the seal has weakened and more and more undead are trickling into Boccovia, they feel it is their solemn duty to push them back before it is too late. Loshan settlements are governed almost exclusively by military leaders, whether former or current. They instill their military discipline onto the masses, and work to maintain a certain code of ethics: no unnecessary violence, no theft, always tell the truth, and no sex before marriage. Loshan leaders do what they can to channel the repressed energy of their people into fighting spirit and political zeal. The best way to get ahead in Loshan society is to continue moving up the ranks in their armies until you can retire, surrounded by war trophies and pristine medals.

Igear/Igearan: In order to meet the incredible demand for bronze, iron, and gold, The Boccovian Empire had to go to extreme methods to compete with the better positioned and more industrious Tero of Kijihn. As such, settlements were constructed in mountains, and then later underground. Over time, these settlements developed their own unique culture. The Igear (ee-geer) are… Quite distinct from other humans, yet they still maintain their relations with The Empire. Simultaneously, the Igear have created a vast criminal network beneath the ground known as The City Beneath Cities. Igearan are durable, hardworking folk, with an eye for opportunity and a deep-rooted bitterness for surface dwellers. Keeping the best weapons and armor for themselves, bands of raiders lead by Black Marketeers attack remote settlements and traffic slaves by the hundreds. People say that centuries underground have left them changed forever. The question is… In what way?

Igearan are the shortest of the humans, as the long years moving through tunnels has created a need for smaller people. They hunch over naturally, though they stand up straight whenever they can. The average Igearan is incredibly fit due to years spent exercising, mining, and practicing with spears near underground rivers. The Igear are black of hair, pale-skinned, and have beady dark red eyes that almost gleam with a sinister light. Igearan can no longer see color the same way other humans do, and instead have learned to see in the dark and pick up any subtle sounds or smells. Due to this adaption, the light of the sun is blinding to them, and most who venture to the surface where goggles with black lenses. To most humans, the Igear appear human enough, but they'll always say there’s something off about them, though most can’t put it into words. This is because the Igearan can trace their lineage back to vampire lords of old, and even the weakest of their numbers still pose a threat to surface-dwelling warriors. This trace of vampire blood lends them great strength for their size, and honeyed words that make people believe what they want them to believe. If an Igearan becomes a full vampire (which their leaders tend to do), it is said that they take on a monstrous guise that makes other vampires flee at the sight of them.

After the many hard years in the mines, the Igear were found to become physically weak and brittle. After trying to rely on the arcana of The Empire, they found simpler solutions in continued exercise, grinding up the bones of fish from their underground rivers, and feasting on the iridescent mushrooms that can be found all over their tunnels. Once they established a means of staying healthy, their industriousness improved, yet they started to feel cheated by The Empire and began to keep the best ores and gear for themselves, only selling "choice" bits to the imperial traders that visited them. The Igear follow The Empire only as much as it suits them, but the Igear are the true rulers of their domain. Many clans of Igear exist: Starborne, Marsups, Shrewbits, Longtails, but all pay heed to the Goldari, the lords of The City Beneath Cities. The Goldari are equals amongst themselves, though they are effectively a council of kings that direct and command the other clans, appointing leaders, directing resources, and splitting the wealth earned from their Black Marketeers.

As head of the Igear, the Goldari clan has helped to maintain the Igear's long relationship with The Empire, though they take whatever opportunity presents itself to swindle traders that come their way. Where they truly profit is in their vast criminal network. As the Igear have created the tunnels necessary for continuous mining over the centuries, they have carefully mapped out the underground and move The City Beneath Cities whenever it becomes necessary, maintaining its longevity from everlasting to everlasting. They have created political alliances with a variety of monsters over the years, including the dreaded Thaloqua (serpent-headed tarantula creatures from the stars), which have become their primary benefactors. Individually, an Igearan is a greedy and morbid individual that is always looking out for himself. Collectively, the Igear are ruthless and conniving, perhaps even monstrous. Though many remain ignorant of their activities underground, they remain a black stain on Boccovia's history - one that a certain individual has worked tirelessly to correct.

Aira/Airan: Strong-willed people, the Aira (i-rah) originated from the bitter cold tundras of Rogdova before the Great Cataclysm rearranged their ancestral homes and the dragons took what remained. While some stayed in what is now known as Wyravaen and allied themselves with the dragons of the Xenshin Empire, others migrated across the seas, seeking new homes. What they found was the Boccovian Empire. The two factions fought to a stand-still, their blood collectively staining the battlefield for years. It wasn't until the intervention of a certain philosopher that the two warring groups finally made peace. Though the Airan people joined The Empire, they have always been a fringe community, preferring to live near coastal regions and forested mountains where they can practice their spiritual beliefs in peace.

The Aira are short and thin compared to other humans. Nonetheless, they are quite formidable in terms of speed and strength. Their skin, though somewhat pale, takes on a light olive hue. Their eyes are black and brown, along with their hair which is long and straight, and often tied in various braids. The Aira tend to tattoo their bodies with rune-like symbols and eye-themed patterns. It is said they do this so they can watch for spirits at all times, even while asleep. A passerby might even give an Airan a second glance, thinking that their tattooed eyes looked their way.

Airan settlements are headed by lords appointed by higher-ranking nobility. These lords watch over their people and give land to warriors in exchange for their protection. These warriors create a deep bond between themselves and their lord. Airan laws favor the various classes in a hierarchical top-to-bottom way, with the lords and similar nobles at the top, the warrior class below them, and everyone else below warriors. Men and women are equal in Airan society. Favor is granted by class and merit, not by physical appearance. Even though the class system may be in place, there is a level of mutual respect passed around Airan communities which keep them working together in harmony. The peasants mine the iron, the artisans smith weapons from the iron, the weapons are wielded by the warriors, and these warriors keep the lords safe while they maintain peace and order. In spite of the rigid class system, people can move up or down the ladder. Youths are taken into the military at a young age and taught to wield weapons and are strictly disciplined. If they show promise, even a girl from an artisan’s family could become employed by a lord. And in the case of lazy or belligerent lords, a warrior may feel inclined to behead them and take their place.

Freath: The watchful oaks of Boccovia, the Freath (free-ah-th) are a collection of various tribes that worship The Life Seed. The Freath, like the Southern Huldra of Tenrai, view nature itself to be the source of life, not the gods. Because of this, the Freath live among what they hold sacred – the trees. A Freath tribe gather in forests, typically around a treant or dryad, and keep a close eye on the surrounding area and its denizens. Because the destruction of nature is an essential element of modern civilization, they are always trying to push back against the machine that is development and progress, and have been known to raid their more industrious neighbors. Simultaneously, they keep those who try to live in harmony with nature safe from harm, fighting men, monsters, and the unspeakable terrors that sometimes cross over from other planes. Though they are hated and sometimes even feared by their fellow man, they protect the natural world out of respect for life and a strong sense of duty, for without nature, how would man ever survive?

Freath are of a modest stature and healthy in appearance, having partaken in the finest flora they can grow. They have athletic builds, as they are used to racing through forests, climbing up trees and mountains, and swimming along rivers – a favorite activity for them. Freath have black and brown hair that they adorn with bones, horns (antlers in particular), and feathers. The particular arrangement and decorations in their hair could tell you what tribe they are from, what star they were born under, even how big their family is. Their eyes are typically brown or hazel, and they have bronze skin, though sometimes they can become pale from staying under a thick forest canopy for too long. Freath have full lips, somewhat round noses, as well as thickly calloused hands and feet. A Freath never wears shoes, as they feel disconnected from the earth when doing so. They will decorate their ankles, however - often with painted hide or patterned cloth.

Freath settlements work alongside whatever treants, dryads, or other nature spirits live near their communities. They offer gifts to the forest spirits in exchange for guidance. The one who communicates and gives these gifts are known as shamans, and they work closely with the spirits of the wood. The Freath believe every single person has an animal spirit alongside them that was meant to watch over and protect them. To this end, a shaman can draw out what they believe to be this animal spirit. Sometimes these are manifested in a physical sense, becoming animal companions or familiars. Other times, they might form as markings or tattoos on their skin. The Freath work to embody nature, and practice all manner of druidic magics to this end. When they hunt, it is a spiritual experience and they always thank the beasts they slay for the meal, for without the sacrifice of the animal, there would be no feast. Typically, men are the ones that hunt while women forage for fruits, nuts, and useful herbs. It is an easy task for the hunters and gatherers, though, for the food is provided by the forest spirits the shaman communes with. Shamans pass on their duties to their offspring, and those children in turn pass this duty onto their children when the time comes.

Author's Note: As you can probably tell, many of Arachnia's human ethnicities draw strong inspiration from existing ethnicities and cultures. When I made these, I never meant any disrespect towards existing cultures and people. I simply wanted there to be diversity among my setting's humans, so I looked to real life for inspiration. I also wanted to give my humans a dash of the familiar, as some of my other fantasy races can be quite alien in design and mindset. Anyway, for those who got this far, thank you for reading! I plan to periodically upload more race lore in the future - though perhaps not as long or dense as this particular post. Have a nice day!