#drag ame magic scarf drag him

[kalashnikovlobotomy]

past the point of no return🙂 just as cold and lonely tonight as they were 200 years ago

[matchayogitea]

New Year Magic ∼ Steve Harrington x Reader (One Shot)

As someone who often has a hard time during the Holidays, I quickly wrote this today to vent. Happy New Year, everyone.

Summary: You don't like New Year's and you don't really care to celebrate it with people, so you're home alone. Until an unexpected guest arrives and changes your mind about this holiday you dislike so much.

The streets were empty, and rightly so. It was the evening of December 31st, an evening you dreaded, every year.

You had never cared for New Years, but as time went by you felt your distaste for the Holiday growing stronger and stronger. The reason? You felt like the promise of a New Year that would make your life better was an empty one. A failure. At times, you thought something must be wrong with you. How could everyone celebrate and party while you felt so differently? So sad?

Sighing, you turned away from the living room window. Your parents had left an hour earlier, to celebrate with some friends, and they had tried dragging you out with them but you had pretended to be feeling sick so they would leave you alone. They just didn't understand you.

Your friends didn't seem to understand you, either. Except one. Steve Harrington, whom you'd grown close to in the past year as you found yourself battling monsters and weird supernatural phenomena, hadn't tried to convince you to go to a party with him and other people you knew. He had seemed to accept that it just wasn't something that would make you happy.

And you knew it was for the best, because he would definitely be kissing someone as midnight came around - and your heart would be crushed. Because you liked him, a lot. You had tried so hard to keep from falling for him, but you hadn't been able to stop yourself, and now you were paying the price. Just because Steve was single at the moment, you knew it wouldn't last. Not after New Years Eve.

Whatever. He was too good for you anyway. You had to accept it and move on. Even if it hurt like hell.

As you sat on the couch and grabbed a book absent-mindedly, you glanced at the clock. It was only 10 PM. Better start reading and forget about everything else.

Until someone rang the doorbell.

You considered ignoring whoever it was. Probably a friend of your parents', or some other annoying visitor. But they rang again, and again, and you finally discarded the book to go check.

You definitely weren't expecting him.

"Steve?" You gingerly opened the door, a smile making its way on your face as you noticed how handsome he looked in his long, black coat and matching scarf. "Wrong address, party's not here," you joked.

"Hey, Y/N. Are you alone?" he asked, glancing behind you.

"I am… my parents are out. What's up?"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure…" You didn't know what was going on, but you let him in. It was freezing outside, not snowing yet but the promise was in the air.

"Thanks. Well, I…" He paused, as if searching for the right words. "I brought some food. Actually, it's just chocolate, but I guess you already had dinner. I brought a bottle of wine, too. No, wait-" You had opened your mouth to speak, but he kept going. "I just can't be at some stupid party while you're home alone. I would rather spend time with someone I care about than a bunch of drunk idiots. I mean… if that's ok with you…"

His cheeks were flushed, you weren't sure if it was because of the cold or something else, but you felt yourself blush, too. "Steve… that is really thoughtful, but you don't have to spend New Years with me like a loser. I know you like parties, and-"

"I'm tired of all that, Y/N. I would rather watch some dumb movie and chill at home with you."

His gaze was so warm, and he looked amazing, and he smelled so nice.

You were a goner.

"Ok, then, if you're really sure… make yourself at home," you replied, grabbing his coat and gesturing for him to follow you into the living room. "I don't know if anything's on TV. I was reading."

After placing wine and chocolate on the coffee table, Steve sat on the couch and grabbed your book. "The Never ending story? Really? We just watched the movie," he grinned, looking up at you.

"Exactly, I want to know the real story. And everything that couldn't fit into the movie," you explained, throwing a pillow at him. He laughed and you felt your chest grow warmer. You didn't know why he had decided to show up, but you were happy. Truly happy.

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

It was almost midnight and there was only a tiny bit of wine left, that you guys had saved to welcome the New Year.

Both of you were currently laughing like hyenas at some comedy that was on TV.

"It's not even that funny, why… are we laughing so much?" you asked, trying to calm down. Steve had drunk a bit more than you, and he was completely gone. "Look at his face!" he replied, pointing to the actor.

You did, and started laughing again.

Till Steve noticed it was five minutes left till midnight.

"Alright! Let's finish this wine and… and say what our hopes are for the New Year," he exclaimed, pouring the little wine left. "You first!"

"Oh, I hate this. Every year's the same, anyway, people making promises they won't keep and wishing for things that won't happen and-"

"Hey, Miss Optimism, I'll have you know that this year is going to be different!" Steve raised his glass to yours. "Just say one thing you wish for. Then I'll go next."

"Fine!" You sighed, feeling cornered. "Hum… I wish for world peace."

"Come onnn! I'm talking about something you wish for yourself!" Steve insisted, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You instantly felt your cheeks grow hot, partly because of the wine and partly because of him.

And then, because of the state you were in, you were dumb enough to say it out loud. "I wish… the guy I like would like me back," you muttered, downing the rest of the wine.

Steve stared at you for what felt like forever, before nodding. "Same. Same for me! I mean… the girl I like, in my case, not a guy…" he drank what was left in his glass, before turning back to you. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," he added, eyes dangerously glassy.

"I don't think it's a good idea…" You might be tipsy, but not drunk. And you knew there was no coming back from admitting to him that you liked him. A lot.

Steve was too out of it to listen to you, however. "It's just the two of us, come on! On a count of 3…"

"Steve, no, I don't-"

"2-"

"Stop it, Steve-"

"1-"

"IT'S YOU!" You both shouted simultaneously, and your face fell. What? It must be some joke in poor taste, right? How could Steve like you?

But he was staring at you so lovingly that it couldn't be a joke. He couldn't be that good of an actor, he just couldn't-

"Oh my God, you finally told me you're desperately in love with me!" he exclaimed, raising one fist triumphantly. "Yessss!"

"What… I…" you were stunned. You couldn't process everything that had happened so fast. "I just-"

"Ssssh! Come here!"

Steve dragged you to your feet, so you were standing in front of him, and cupped your face between his warm, large hands.

"It's one minute left till midnight, Y/N. This year, I want to spend it with you. Be with you, all the time, and never let you go."

Still incredulous, you tried to ask if he meant it, but he cut you off.

With a kiss.

The kiss.

As you wrapped your arms around him and got lost in your dream world, you only barely registered the turn of the New Year. Finally, you were happy.

[catharsis505]

Winter Wonderland ℕ𝕠𝕒𝕙 𝕊𝕖𝕓𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕟

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌|||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

The snow had started falling early that morning, fat flakes drifting lazily from the sky and sticking to every surface. By the time Noah and Y/N pulled up to the cabin, the landscape was blanketed in a pristine layer of white. The rental car’s tires crunched over the packed snow as they parked, and Y/N let out a delighted gasp, pressing her nose to the window.

“It’s like a postcard,” she said, her breath fogging the glass. “I can’t believe we’re really here.”

Noah chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “You’re way too excited about the snow.”

“Of course I am! It’s magical.”

“Until you have to shovel it.”

She shot him a look, unbuckling her seatbelt. “You’re no fun.”

“Hey, I’m plenty of fun,” he protested, stepping out of the car and immediately being hit by the icy wind. “Oh my God, it’s freezing,” he muttered, pulling his jacket tighter around him.

Y/N hopped out, a bundle of energy despite the cold. She tugged her scarf up over her chin and spread her arms wide, letting the snow fall into her hair. “I love it.”

“You’re a lunatic,” Noah called as he grabbed their bags from the trunk.

“And you’re a grump,” she replied, twirling in the snow before turning to help him. “But I’ll forgive you because you brought me here.”

“Generous of you,” he teased, handing her one of the lighter bags. Together, they trudged up the steps to the cabin, their boots leaving tracks in the fresh powder.

The cabin was just as picturesque inside as it was outside, wooden beams, a stone fireplace, and cozy furniture that seemed to invite you to sink into it and never leave. Y/N immediately dropped her bag and headed for the window, staring out at the snowy landscape.

“Noah, look at this view!” she called.

He was busy setting their bags by the door but wandered over to stand behind her, his chin resting on her shoulder. “Not bad,” he admitted. “You’ve got good taste.”

She tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes sparkling. “You’re welcome.”

He laughed, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Alright, snow queen. What’s the plan? Are we staying inside where it’s warm, or are you dragging me out into the frozen abyss?”

“Frozen abyss,” she said immediately. “We’re building a snowman.”

Noah groaned. “Of course we are.”

An hour later, they were both outside, bundled up in layers and surrounded by piles of snow. Y/N was carefully shaping the snowman’s body, while Noah, crouched nearby, packed snow into a lopsided ball for the head.

“Not bad,” he said, stepping back to admire his work. “He’s got character.”

Y/N snorted. “That’s one way to put it. He looks like he’s been through some stuff.”

“Maybe he’s seen things,” Noah said dramatically, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe he’s the hero of this winter tale.”

She burst out laughing, the sound ringing out in the quiet snow-covered forest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Thank you,” he said with a mock bow. “I try.”

When the snowman was finally assembled, Y/N reached up to adjust the crooked scarf they’d tied around its neck. Noah, standing just behind her, couldn’t help but watch her with a soft smile. The way her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her hair sticking out from under her beanie, and her eyes sparkling with joy, it was like she belonged in this winter wonderland.

Without thinking, he reached out and tugged her back gently, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You’re way too good at this,” he murmured into her ear.

“At building snowmen?” she asked with a laugh, tilting her head to look up at him.

“At making me fall for you,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady.

Her breath hitched, the teasing smile on her face melting into something softer. “Noah…”

He turned her around to face him, his hands sliding down to rest on her hips. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said, his voice low. “Even out here in the cold, covered in snow.”

She reached up to touch his face, her gloved hand brushing his cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He grinned, leaning down so their foreheads touched. “Not so bad, huh? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Fine,” she whispered, her eyes locked on his. “You’re perfect. How’s that?”

“I’ll take it.”

Their lips met, soft and warm despite the chill in the air. The kiss was unhurried, like the snow falling around them, and when they finally pulled apart, Noah rested his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in the cold.

“You’re trouble,” he said with a smile.

“Good trouble?” she asked, her voice light.

“The best kind,” he said, kissing her again.

Later, back inside the cabin, they sat curled up on the couch, their wet clothes replaced with thick sweaters and wool socks. Noah had lit the fireplace, and the room was filled with the crackle of flames and the faint scent of burning wood.

“Did I say thank you yet?” Y/N asked, breaking the comfortable silence. She was tucked into Noah’s side, her head resting on his chest.

“For what?” he asked, his fingers idly tracing patterns on her arm.

“For this,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the cabin, the fire, and the snow outside. “For bringing me here. For being you.”

His lips curved into a smile. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“I do, though,” she insisted, sitting up slightly so she could look at him. “You make everything better, Noah.”

He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek. “Funny,” he said softly. “I was just about to say the same thing about you.”

She leaned into his touch, her eyes shining. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I ask myself that every day,” he said, pulling her closer. “But if you think for one second that I’m letting you go, you’re crazy.”

She laughed, the sound muffled against his chest as she wrapped her arms around him. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

As the day turned into evening, the snow outside the cabin glittered under the soft glow of the porch lights. Inside, the warmth of the fire painted everything in amber tones. Noah was in the kitchen, standing at the stove with a concentration so intense it made Y/N laugh.

“You’re acting like you’re on a cooking competition show,” she teased from the dining table, where she was lighting the candles he’d found tucked in one of the cabinets.

Noah glanced over his shoulder, spatula in hand. “I’ll have you know, this is a high stakes situation. You’re not just anyone, I can’t mess this up.”

Her heart warmed at his words. “No pressure or anything,” she said, smirking.

“Exactly,” he replied with a grin before returning his focus to the sizzling pan.

He’d insisted on cooking for her tonight, despite her protests that she could help. “It’s your vacation too,” he’d said, kissing the tip of her nose and nudging her toward the couch.

Now, as the rich smell of garlic and herbs filled the air, Y/N couldn’t help but admire him. His usual rocker persona, black nails, tattoos, and that quiet, intense energy, was still there, but here in the glow of the cabin, he seemed softer. His hair was slightly messy from the day, and he’d swapped his band hoodie for a sweater that hugged his frame in all the right ways.

“Alright,” he said, breaking her thoughts as he plated the food. “Your personal chef is ready to serve.”

He carried two plates over to the table, each one holding a perfectly cooked steak, roasted potatoes, and asparagus that looked straight out of a restaurant. Y/N’s jaw dropped.

“Noah, this looks incredible!”

He shrugged, though the pleased smile on his face betrayed his modesty. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes as he pulled her chair out for her. “You really are full of surprises.”

As they settled at the table, the soft glow of the candles made the moment feel even more special. Snow continued to fall gently outside the window, and the crackling fire added a warm soundtrack to their evening.

Y/N picked up her fork, taking a bite of the steak first. Her eyes widened as the flavor hit her. “Noah, oh my God. This is amazing. How are you this good at cooking?”

He leaned back in his chair, his smile smug. “Told you I’m a man of many talents.”

“Okay, but seriously. Is there anything you can’t do?”

He pretended to think about it. “Math,” he said finally, earning a laugh from her. “And wrapping presents. It’s a disaster every time.”

Y/N shook her head, still grinning as she took another bite. “Well, this more than makes up for it. I think you just set the bar ridiculously high for every meal I ever make for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hand. His thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles. “Anything you make is perfect. You could burn toast, and I’d still eat it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Liar.”

“Not lying,” he said, his voice softer now. His gaze met hers, and for a moment, the playful banter between them quieted. “I mean it, Y/N. Everything’s better with you. Even the little stuff, like this.”

Her chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice. She squeezed his hand. “You’re going to make me cry,” she teased, though her voice wavered slightly.

Noah’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “Good. Then I’ll know I’m doing something right.”

They continued eating, sharing stories and laughter between bites. Y/N told him about her most embarrassing childhood memories, and Noah recounted some ridiculous moments from touring with the band, stories that left her clutching her stomach from laughing so hard.

When the plates were cleared, Noah disappeared into the kitchen, returning with two glasses of red wine and a small plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.

“You really went all out, huh?” she said, her eyes lighting up at the sight.

“Only the best for you,” he replied, setting the plate down before handing her a glass.

They clinked their glasses together, the sound delicate in the quiet cabin.

“To snowmen, fancy dinners, and being snowed in with the best company I could ask for,” Noah said, his voice warm.

Y/N smiled, her heart full. “To you. For making everything so special.”

They sipped their wine in comfortable silence for a moment before Y/N leaned forward, her gaze playful. “Okay, but real talk, what’s with the strawberries? Did you plan this romantic getaway just to impress me?”

Noah smirked, setting his glass down. “If I say yes, does that score me extra points?”

“Maybe.”

“Then yes,” he said, his tone teasing, though there was a glimmer of truth in his eyes. He reached for her hand again, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin. “But honestly? I just wanted to give you something to remember. You deserve it.”

Her breath caught at the tenderness in his voice. She leaned over the table, cupping his face in her hands. “You don’t have to try so hard to impress me, Noah. I already think you’re amazing.”

His eyes softened, and he tilted his head to press a kiss to her palm. “You make it easy to want to try.”

The moment stretched between them, the warmth in his gaze making her feel like the only person in the world.

“I love you,” she whispered, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

His expression didn’t falter; if anything, his smile deepened. “I love you too,” he said, his voice steady and sure.

Noah stood, pulling her gently to her feet. “Come here,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her.

They swayed together in the middle of the cabin, the fire casting their shadows on the wall as snow continued to fall outside. There was no music, just the rhythm of their breathing and the occasional crackle of the fire, but it was enough.

“Best dinner ever,” Y/N whispered, her cheek pressed to his chest.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his arms tightening around her. “Best everything ever,” he replied softly.

And for the rest of the night, as they danced, talked, and curled up by the fire, everything felt like a dream, the kind of memory they’d both hold onto forever.

◀︎ •၊၊||၊|||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|||၊|။|||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

[kurocatsstuff]

11:55 : reincarnation.

genre : angst, suggested suicide, hallucinations, Scaramouche x reader, GN reader

notes : I got bored, consider this my apology for not updating on the magical girl AU I did :3

You’d never really resorted to anything in life, your grades were average at best, the only talent you ever had was drawing yet you couldn’t improve, your envy and self esteem dragged you to the ground, and you were always alone. No matter how much you hated it you were alone.

You were blessed to be having the friend you do have, Scaramouche. Yet you were scared to talk to him in the public because you knew he was too good to be true. Beautiful, smart, cold yet soft to you, your exact type. And that’s how you always knew he was just an hallucination, because he was fictional, Scaramouche from Genshin Impact.. as your real life friend? How stupid you would sound if you said that.

Holding his hand, comforting silence, intimate situations. All that you’ve experienced is just a wall blocking the loneliness that ate you alive. Just a reflection of what you want.

—————

11:34 PM, you were at the playground, sitting on the swings with Scaramouche to your right.

The cold breeze embraced you as you shivered in response, your coat and red scarf helping you through it.. turning to Scaramouche, you saw that he was looking through your sketch book.

“..Is this me?” He pointed towards the unfinished sketch as he tilted the page towards you so you could see it. “Yes, that’s you.” You answered in a quiet tone, you were a bit nervous to talk to him. Even when it was night, everyone was sleeping other than the few teenagers that smoked in the nearby alleyway.

Scaramouche smiled softly, a smile only you could see in a literal way. “It’s nice.” He mumbled, a soft blush on his face as he looked at it. You nodded in response. “Why don’t you finish any of your drawing anymore? You’re only sketching nowadays without finishing it like you used to.” You gently swing, while he was unmoving.

“Because it’s just wasting time.” Right, just wasting time… coloring and shading, completing your drawings either traditionally or digitally it was rare for you to do. Honestly you didn’t see a point in it anymore, you’ll just disappoint yourself again. And it won’t change, you couldn’t improve no matter how hard you tried.

“You should try at least, it’s nice to have a finished piece.” He wouldn’t know what it would be like, he’s not an artist, he’s not human either, he’s not even real. “..hey Scara?” You called out his name.

“What?”

“Do you believe in reincarnation.. like, to another world once you die?” He wouldn’t die, but it would be nice to ask. What does Scaramouche think about reincarnation?

“Maybe.”

“Do you think I could meet the real you if I get reincarnated?”

“I am real.”

“No, you’re not.”

[sky-kiss]

For the prompts: I’ve been thinking non-stop about your professor/barista au and would LOVE to see the date/the aftermath of said date 👀

A/N: Dude, I’m so glad to hear people like this dumb universe. Have a second prompt coming in for the same verse later. 

_____

Raphael x Tav: You Cannot Invite Her to Italy Yet, My Guy

_____

The temperature has dropped low enough to warrant a coat when they leave the restaurant. Tav shoves her hands into her pockets, turning her face up to feel the breeze on her skin. It’s fresh in a way you rarely experience in the city. Her head is pleasantly swimmy off good wine, food, and better company. 

Tav smiles to herself. Raphael lingers on her left. The wine has left a flush of color in his naturally tanned cheeks. She reaches out without thinking to adjust the hang of his scarf. He stiffens momentarily before relaxing, allowing her to smooth nonexistent wrinkles from the lapel of his jacket. “Well, I’d call that a successful first outing.”

“How gratifying to hear. Haarlep would never have let me live it down otherwise.” He holds out his arm. “Come, the night is young.”

“Oooh, a secondary location. I am doing well.” She tucks her hand in the crook of his elbow. 

“Exceeding all expectations, my dear, I assure you.” He sighs, angling down the street. She relaxes, hugging her guide's arm to her chest. Heat radiates through his jacket, much needed. The material smells pleasantly of him, a touch of spicy bleeding into the cherries and musk. A little creepy to go around smelling your date, but she won't apologize. Most men didn’t smell half as nice. Raphael continues, his movements and voice looser. He’s in his element, rarely liquid; it’s charming. “You read, you brew, you’re well-spoken…what more could I ask?” 

Tav snickers. “My, I’m uniquely qualified.” 

He tips her a wink. “Almost as if we were made for one another” 

It’s a terrible line. Raphael is attractive enough to make it work. Tav rolls her eyes, shrugging under his arm and dragging it over her shoulders. If he’s going to make his moves, she'll try hers. The barista winds her arms around his waist. “Look at that. We fit, too.” 

He stiffens, staring at her in a mix of amusement and wonder. It’s too open for the typically confident man. Tav fears she overstepped. Raphael chuckles, bringing her free hand to his lips for a kiss. “Wonders never cease.”

They wander for a while. He angles them towards a park. They talk about books they’ve read and the places they have traveled. Tav has never been to Italy. Raphael spent a decent portion of his childhood on the Mediterranean coast. 

“Do you get back often?” 

“Less than I’d like. But I am always looking for a new excuse to visit.” He glances down at her, eyes glittering. “In the dark heart of winter, Italy, Spain…they seem like a dream.” Raphael purses his lips. A real mischief crosses his face. “If you require a guide one day…” 

Oh, she shouldn’t. It’s the magic of the evening; it’s the chemistry and the company. She can't stop from saying, “I’d like that.”

They walk a little longer. When it comes time to part, Tav lingers by the door, chewing her lip between her teeth. It’s too early in the relationship, but she’s still chasing the high. “You could come up?”

Raphael chuckles. The professor leans over her, curling a finger under her chin, tipping her head up. He brushes his lips across hers, more delicate than she’d like, still tasting the rich cabernet they had with dinner. “Expectation will make such things all the sweeter, pet. Perhaps next time.” He kisses her knuckles and turns to go. 

Tav just stares after him like a love-sick idiot: a little disappointed and a little giddy. 

Before she drifts off to sleep, she sends him a text. Dinner, Saturday. There is a tapas bar near her apartment, and it only seems fair to continue their faux Mediterranean tour. 

She hates that his response makes her blush: he is, as ever, delighted to serve as her guide. 

[girl-next-door-writes]

Snowfall Serenade

Characters: Loki x reader

Summary: Best friends, winter magic, and a holiday resort straight out of a dream—will a week of snowy escapades spark something more?

Word Count: 1496 words

Prompts: Ski resort. Best friends to lovers. Wearing their clothes.

A/N: The fantastic @savvy-devine666 requested a little festive Loki and who am I to object?

The air was crisp and smelled of pine, the snow falling in thick, glittering flakes that coated the resort like powdered sugar on a gingerbread house. Christmas lights twinkled in the distance, casting a warm glow across the frosty landscape. You adjusted your scarf and rubbed your gloved hands together, staring up at the grandiose lodge that you and your best friend, Loki, would be calling home for the next week.

“This place looks like it belongs in a holiday movie,” you said, nudging him with your elbow.

Loki arched an eyebrow, his dark hair falling just shy of his shoulders, and gave you that trademark smirk that always seemed to hold some secret. “A bit over the top, isn’t it? All the glitz and glitter. Too festive for its own good.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You say that, but I know you’ll be the first to steal the best seat by the fireplace.”

“Not if you claim it first, darling.” There was a teasing lilt to his voice, but you noticed the faint flush on his cheeks. Probably the cold, you thought. Definitely the cold.

The truth was, being here with Loki already felt like magic. After years of being inseparable friends, this trip had been your idea—a break from the chaos of life and a chance to finally relax. Loki had reluctantly agreed, muttering about “tourist traps” but secretly excited, as you’d caught him researching the best ski routes days before you left.

Inside the lodge, it was even more beautiful. A roaring fire crackled in the stone hearth, and the scent of mulled cider and cinnamon wafted through the air. Loki, ever the gentleman, helped you out of your coat and scarf, his touch lingering a moment longer than usual. You ignored the way your heart skipped at the gesture. This was Loki, your best friend. Nothing more.

“I’ll grab the key for our suite,” he said, his green eyes flicking toward the reception desk. “You find us some hot chocolate, perhaps?”

“On it,” you replied, grinning as you made your way to the cozy café corner.

When you reconvened, steaming mugs in hand, Loki led you to your shared suite. It was charming, with rustic wooden beams, a Christmas tree adorned with silver and green ornaments, and a balcony overlooking the snowy slopes.

“This is... nice,” Loki admitted, setting his bag down and glancing around.

“I knew you’d like it,” you teased. “It’s practically screaming your aesthetic.”

“I suppose it’s tolerable,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

The next few days were a whirlwind of winter activities. You dragged Loki to the slopes, where he proved to be a surprisingly graceful skier, despite his earlier complaints. You weren’t nearly as skilled, but Loki stayed by your side, catching you every time you wobbled.

“You’re doing splendidly,” he said after your fifth near-tumble.

“Liar,” you laughed, breathless. “You’re just saying that so I’ll keep humiliating myself.”

“Nonsense. I’m saying it because it’s true.” His voice softened, and for a moment, his gaze lingered on you, unguarded and vulnerable. Then he cleared his throat and turned away.

Nights were spent curled up by the fire, sipping cider or cocoa while playing cards or talking for hours. Loki seemed more relaxed than you’d ever seen him, the usual sharp edges of his sarcasm dulled by the holiday cheer. You found yourself watching him more often than you should, noting the way the firelight danced in his emerald eyes or the rare but genuine smiles that crossed his face.

You tried to shake it off. He was your best friend. Nothing more.

On Christmas Eve, the resort hosted a moonlit snowshoe hike. Loki was skeptical, but you convinced him with the promise of a quiet night under the stars. Bundled up in layers, you followed the group through a trail that wound around the forest. The snow sparkled under the full moon, and your breath puffed in white clouds in the frigid air.

Somewhere along the way, Loki fell behind the group, and you stayed with him.

“You’re brooding,” you teased as the two of you trudged through the snow.

“I am not,” he replied, his voice defensive but tinged with amusement. “I’m merely... thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitated, glancing at you briefly before looking away. “Nothing of consequence.”

You stopped walking and grabbed his arm, forcing him to face you. “Loki, what’s going on? You’ve been weird all day.”

He sighed, his breath visible in the cold air. “It’s nothing. Truly. I suppose I’m just not used to this sort of... festivity.”

“You mean fun?” you teased, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Yes, fine, fun,” he admitted. Then, softer, “I suppose I worry I’ll ruin it for you. I’m not exactly the ideal companion for such a cheerful holiday.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, stepping closer. “Loki, this trip wouldn’t be the same without you. I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.”

His eyes met yours, wide and vulnerable. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he gave a small nod, his lips quirking into a faint smile.

Later that night, back in the suite, you found yourself rifling through your bag for warmer socks. Loki had gone to take a shower, leaving his clothes draped over a chair. Without thinking, you grabbed his oversized sweater and pulled it on. It was soft and smelled like him—a mix of cedarwood and something you couldn’t quite place.

When he walked back into the room, his damp hair curling at the edges, he froze.

“Is that my sweater?” he asked, his voice somewhere between curious and flustered.

You looked down at yourself and grinned. “It’s mine now. It’s warm.”

Loki’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away, muttering something under his breath.

“What was that?” you asked, stepping closer.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his gaze darting anywhere but you.

“Loki...”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I said you look lovely in it”

You blinked, startled by the sudden confession. A warmth spread through your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you smiled. “You did. And thank you.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to shift. He opened his mouth to say something, but then hesitated.

“What?” you prompted gently.

“Nothing. It’s... nothing.” But his tone was soft, almost wistful.

The next evening, Christmas night, the resort held a small gathering outside by the firepit. Guests milled about, sipping hot drinks and chatting. But you and Loki had wandered off, drawn to the quiet beauty of the moonlit slopes.

You stopped by a clearing, where the snow fell gently around you, the world bathed in silver light. Loki stood a few steps away, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, his expression thoughtful.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He turned to you, his green eyes catching the moonlight. “I was just thinking how odd it is that I’ve spent so much time resisting things like this. Happiness, connection. I’ve always thought they were... out of reach.”

“They’re not,” you said softly.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the snow. “Perhaps not. But they’re frightening, nonetheless. To care for someone, to let them in... it’s a risk.”

“It’s worth it,” you replied, stepping closer.

Loki’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, he looked as if he might argue. But then his expression softened, and he reached out, his gloved hand brushing against yours.

“You make me believe that,” he said quietly, his eyes widening as he realised the words had escaped him. “Did I just say that out loud?” he chuckled sheepishly.

Your breath caught as he stepped closer, his gaze searching yours nervously. Snowflakes clung to his dark hair, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. He looked impossibly beautiful, and your heart ached with the intensity of it.

“Loki...”

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “Don’t stop.”

His lips met yours, soft and tentative, as if he was afraid you might vanish. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you, caught in the moonlight with snow falling around you. When he pulled back, his gaze searched yours, uncertain and vulnerable.

“Was that...” he began, his voice barely audible.

“Perfect,” you finished for him, a smile breaking across your face.

He let out a soft laugh, his tension melting away as he pulled you into his arms. For the first time, Loki looked at peace, his insecurities replaced by the quiet certainty of your presence.

And as the snow continued to fall, the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other and the magic of the moment, knowing that this Christmas had given you something far more precious than either of you could have imagined.

[gabriel-xander]

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

31: Would I Fuck Myself? No, My Self-Loathing is Too Strong

♪────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

You tuck in your lips to stop smiling too much, though you are failing miserably. Lo and behold and in the flesh (Flesh? Bones?) was a familiar-looking skeleton.

He seems to have a white t-shirt underneath this grey half-plate armor and blue seams to the shoulder pads. A cobalt-colored scarf wrapped loosely and stylishly around his neck, trailing behind him in an improvised cape. His dark blue pants are tucked into his blue boots, the boots being the same color as his scarf.

His wide, accomplished grin is so round and vaguely heart-shaped. His eyes are beautiful you think–round, cyan saucer fucking eyes with stars designs in them. He looks so much like the Sans on top of you if only rounder with his features, and with a belly that you assume is made with magic and crap???

This is him, this is UnderSwap Sans.

He’s so…

HE’S SO CUTE!!

Your Sans is looking at his other version with a grimace. He doesn’t look so happy about seeing himself wearing a cute armor get-up.

“ah… h-hey, buddy,” Sans stutters, slipping his hold and jerking closer to you, “guh–sorry. hey, do you mind letting us down?”

This would be the perfect time to give your man even more stress.

You lean up and give Sans a small peck on the cheek, rubbing your cheek against his immediately after.

“We don’t spend enough quality time together.” You whisper cheekily.

“oh please not now, [y/n].” He whispers back, already tired and defeated.

Sans looks back down at his mirror self, trying to distance himself from you so he’s not laying on you completely. “buddy? hey? let us down, please?”

UnderSwap Sans (Swap-Sans for “short”) gives you both an incredulous look. Unlike Sans, he’s much more willing to drop his smile to express himself. Though his mouth still doesn’t open to talk, the outer edges around his teeth move? It’s so fucking weird it’s like you’re watching a cartoon.

“WHAT? AND RUIN MY CHANCES OF CAPTURING A HUMAN? THIS IS THE FIRST ONE I’VE MET, THERE’S NO WAY I’LL GIVE THAT UP.”

Jesus, it will never not freak you out that you’re able to understand he’s still speaking in Comic Sans but in all caps without yelling. His voice is the same tone as Sans just less lazy and more enthusiastic. You know, like he’s putting his whole Sanussy into it.

You give him the corporate smile, the one that says: “I think you’re irrational, but I can’t afford to get fired so I’m going to pretend I’m listening to what you’re saying when really I couldn’t give less of a shit.”

You know the one.

“Hey, man. How ‘bout I give my word–nay, I promise that I won’t run away if you get us down.”

Swap-Sans rolls his eyes, “OH, PLEASE. HOW DUMB DO YOU THINK I AM?”

“You really want me to answer that?-”

“-okay! okay! enough!” Sans quickly interrupts.

That was a good save, honestly. You have nothing against poor Swap-Sans, but you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be so sassy. Swap-Sans gives you the side eye, the silence stretching out for a moment.

With a slight frown, you whisper quietly, “Sans! Do something!”

Your Sans looks at you for a second to think. Luckily for you both, he is a quick thinker.

“look, you got us, alright? but we’re not bad people, and she isn’t a bad human. just let us down from here and we can talk.”

Finally, the other skeleton shrugs, “SIGH. FINE.”

Swap-Sans snaps his fingers in the air and drags that same hand downward. As he does that, a broken, jagged bone appears with a cyan outline. He catches it before it can fall, chucking it in a direction past you. You hear a rope snap–

“WAHH–ACK!!”

“ugh!!”

The net drops you both instantly, Sans falling on top of you and his knee accidentally digs into your inner right thigh. You try repeating in your mind that you prefer it this way instead of hurting Sans with his squishy ass 1HP. The Comic (Your Comic Sans) scrambles off you, dragging you to sit up while simultaneously checking you for injuries.

“crap–are you okay?” He asks you again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. How about you?” You dust off the snow from his shoulders, thankful that his gloves are still on you to buffer you from the snow.

“peachy all thanks to you. you make a great body pillow. literally.”

“Ooh, okay smooth talker.”

The whole time you two are yapping and helping each other up, Swap-Sans has been staring down Sans. You guys try to ignore it, but it’s not like there was anything else you could distract yourself with.

You step slightly ahead of Sans, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, this could’ve been super dangerous!”

“WHAT DO YOU-”

“-What if we were some monsters just minding our own business, and we got trapped but you weren’t conveniently here in time to let us go? What if you have forgotten about this trap and a monster was stuck in that for days? You need to think twice about pulling risky stunts like that!”

As you’re chastising him, Swap-Sans kicks his foot to and fro in the snow. His hands are behind his back and he hangs his head in shame.

How embarrassing, getting scolded by a human like this. He can’t even say anything because as much as he hates to admit it, you’re very right. The only reason he caught you and Sans so fast was because he JUST finished setting up that trap.

Dang…

Sans, meanwhile, is quite impressed.

“Now,” You put your hands on your hips, “Congratulations, you’ve captured a human. AKA, me. BUT! Hear me out. What if… We became best friends instead?”

Sans is looking at you with confusion.

Swap-Sans is also looking at you with confusion.

“I know I sound crazy, but let me cook. I’d like to consider myself a decent human, but how would you–” You gesture to the skeleton in the scarf, “–ever know that if you immediately turn me in? What if! You and I legit became the best-est of friends, but you would never know that if you don’t give me a chance!”

Swap-Sans deadpans, “IS THIS JUST SO I DON’T TURN YOU IN TO THE CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD?”

Confidently, you answer: “Yes.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“anyway,” Sans awkwardly starts, trying to salvage this situation, “we’re not looking for trouble. the truth is, we’re on a mission to find something, and once we do, you’ll never see us again.”

Damn, this is not going very well for you guys right now. That kind of sucks because it doesn't have to be this complicated. Sans made it very clear you can’t let these people know you’re from an AU but it's not looking good for you so far. You’re afraid you might have to out yourselves if this keeps going.

You zone back into the conversation, unsure if you regret it immediately or not. They’re already going back and forth with each other how no, Sans isn’t an evil clone, but he’s also not going to share where he’s from. Swap-Sans is retaliating with something along the lines of: “THAT’S HOW I KNOW YOU’RE EVIL BECAUSE I’M GOOD AND I WOULD NEVER LIE.”

Sans is barely holding it in.

This is pretty funny, but you should probably jump in now before Sans loses it.

Hm. You wonder if a magical skeleton can have an aneurysm.

“You know what I can’t stop thinking about since you’ve said it?” You make a thinking pose since you like looking and feeling sophisticated. “I can’t be the first human you’ve ever met, there’s no way. How did you know I was human if you never met one, to begin with?”

Swap-Sans tense up with wide eyes, caught red-fucking-handed with his pants down and his cock out.

Sorry.

Anyway, Sans also realizes his counterpart’s mistake. If Swap-Sans has taken Papyrus’ role in this AU, then there’s no way he should know what humans look like just like the original Papyrus. Papyrus only knew when you first met because Sans told him about you beforehand.

So strictly speaking…

Swap-Sans sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes, “OKAY, FINE. I ADMIT–YES, THERE IS A HUMAN CHILD HERE IN THE UNDERGROUND.”

Shit, so Frisk–Wait, no. Chara is here already! You wonder where exactly you are in the timeline, and what run this is. That leaves you curious about the Frisk in your AU, and where the hell they are.

“BUT COMPARED TO THEM, YOU’RE SO…” Swap-Sans makes a “big” motion vertically as if measuring your height,  “YOU KNOW? SO I THOUGHT, SURELY YOU MUST BE A BAD HUMAN… RIGHT? I MEAN, CAPTAIN ALPHYS SAID ALL HUMANS ARE EVIL, BUT THAT LITTLE ONE WAS NOT. SO BY PROCESS OF ELIMINATION, THAT MEANS THE BIGGER HUMANS ARE.”

Well…

You think of your past and the fucked up shit you used to do before meeting Kōrenki, and are unable to say anything to defend yourself. You’re not that way anymore and you’ve fought hard to be the person you are now.

But your LV is 10 despite everything.

Your Level of Violence, your will, and your capacity to bring yourself to hurt others.

It’s a 10.

Isn’t that the LV Frisk has in the No Mercy run by the time they fight Undyne? Of course that’s including their ExP. But you are at a 10 without any of that. You are… what? Naturally a violent human? Is that who you are?

Maybe Swap-Sans is right-

“nah, nah. you got it all wrong,” Sans waves a hand dismissively, “she’s one of the coolest humans i’ve ever met. seriously, you’ll never meet anyone like her.”

You smile at him appreciatively, though taken aback to find he’s already looking at you (again) with that dreamy gaze of his like you’re the Sun. Ugh, so sweet yet so much pressure and responsibility to be the one who someone depends on for happiness.

Swap-Sans doesn’t pick that up though, mainly focusing on what Sans’ words mean for you. He doesn’t dwell on this for long though, have coming to a conclusion rather quickly.

“HMM… HOW ABOUT THIS,” Swap-Sans puts his hands on his sassy hips, “YOU TWO COME WITH ME FOR NOW AND STAY IN OUR CAPTURE ZONE WHILE I CALL THE HUMAN OVER. IF THE HUMAN CONFIRMS YOU’RE A GOOD HUMAN, THEN I’LL BELIEVE YOU AND LET YOU GO.”

“Yes, that’s perfect,” You agree immediately with a smile.

You give Sans a look, hoping he’ll understand to just go with it. Considering his ability to read expressions is still as amazing as ever, he relaxes and nods with an easy smile.

“THEN IT IS AGREED,” Swap-Sans holds his hands out, “NOW, GIVE ME YOUR HANDS. I MUST RESTRAIN YOU SO YOU DON’T GET INTO ANY FUNNY BUSINESS.”

Sans steps forward with a strained look, “uh, you don’t need to do that. ‘sides, this girl is really strong. she’ll just break free anyway.”

You put your hand on your chest, “Aw, you remembered my sleeper-build.”

“how can i forget when you picked up the entire couch by yourself the other day to vacuum? you carried it too for a solid minute without breaking a sweat.”

“You were taking too long to help.”

“i literally asked for 30 seconds to put on my shoes.”

“30 seconds is a long time in my cleaning schedule, bone boy.”

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT.” Swap-Sans interrupts with another eye-roll but a poorly hidden smile from amusement, “SO NO RESTRAINTS FOR THE HUMAN. THEN YOU MUST WALK RIGHT BESIDE ME.”

You shrug with a smile, “Sounds good to me. Lead the way, bone boy number 2.”

Swap-Sans huffs and starts walking. You follow quickly after with growing amusement, looking back to make sure Sans doesn’t try ditching you. You exchange looks for a moment; he doesn’t seem super pleased with the situation at hand, but you are enjoying every fucking second of this.

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

@adriixboo

@fluffyart5000

@fetusbaconegg

[cq-studios]

Do you have any Skuld headcanons/story ideas you’d like to share?

Ooh okay, rapid fire Skuld headcannons

She’s in the same Union as Player (Anguis) and a different one from Ephemer (Unicornis) as per novels

She’s originally from the world that becomes Arendelle

She was 15 at the end of KHUX, was 13 when the Keyblade War occurred, and was 11 when she became a Keyblade Weilder

Lesbian Skuld for the win

She strikes me as someone who would like Strawberry flavoured candy. Why? I dunno

She and Ephemer has similar jackets because they bought them to match when they were in their party together

She and Ephemer (and and the rest of her party really) are also both banned from the Moogle Shop because, when they went on missions together, they would have competitions on who could find the most ingredients, then sell them all to the Moogle afterwards without buying anything. It did not like that, and they were banned for life lol

I think she and Ephemer also had a half joke competition going on about who would end up being the tallest (they were basically the same height when they started this), technically Brain would’ve won because they ended up dragging him into it (when he was also around the same height as them… he ends up significantly taller than both relatively soon after in my mind lol), but if it had just stayed between the two of them Skuld would’ve claimed victory by about 2 or 3 inches

If I were to choose one of the three medal classes for her to be most proficient in it would be strength. I think after strength she would prioritize magic, leaving speed in last place. Overall though, I think she’s decently balanced

Alright, I’m sure there’s more but that’s what I got off the top of my head lol

As for story ideas I have at least four fic WIPs I’ve been working on on and off. Those being:

Unlikely Friend - A multi chapter fic where Subject X (Skuld) tries to befriend Ienzo that I should probably work on (lol). It has two chapters already up on AO3 if you’re interested.

Ghosts of the Past - A fic where Subject X (Skuld) ends up in Zootopia followed by a certain red scarfed ghost who claims to be her long lost friend. I made a post a while ago talking about this one if you’d like to learn more.

Meanwhile in the Realm of Darkness - A fic (that might end up being multi chapter depending on how motivated I am) where Subject X (Skuld) ends up in the realm of darkness and Aqua finds her. They end up bonding and her and Aqua try to put together pieces of her past as they travel through the fallen worlds (most notably the three from Fragmentary Passage, since Skuld is likely to recognize those from missions).

Party Days - A multi chapter fic from Skuld’s perspective about when Skuld and Ephemer were in a party together. Just a lot of the two of them being goofy and going on missions and stuff. Yay friendship! lol

And I have one that is just ideas I haven’t really expanded on since I wrote it down. Which is the Boiling Isles AU, where Subject X (Skuld) ends up in the Owl House world sometime around the beginning of season 2. It’s not super developed and I wrote my notes for it right after finishing season 2. I don’t really feel the need to write it out anymore but what I had was fun lol

(Luz was so hyped to have another human who could do magic around and I’m also pretty sure I made this AU purely because I thought it’d be funny if they tried to do the memory thing where they pull pictures out of their ears but because Skuld is from a different world they just end up pulling out broken chains lol)

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 31: Sally's Song

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: What’s so wrong with Kakuzu playing around? It’s not like her affection will last. Nothing ever does.

Author's Note: I have a very strong attachment to this song. I try not to be *super* 1-1 with my personal experiences to what the reader analog "Takara" is supposed to be, but this one can't be helped. I love this song, it's the first song outside of church that I memorized, first song I sang for the purpose of wanting it to sound good. If Sally's Song has no fans, that means I am dead.

I really, really admire the Fiona Apple cover of this song especially, but for whatever reason it was removed from Spotify, apparently a couple of years ago. The rendition added to the fic playlist will be a music box instrumental by Music Box Rockstar. (Forgive me if I change my mind later).

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And does he notice my feelings for him?

And will he see how much he means to me?

I think it's not to be

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dappling light is a lot more awe-striking when you’re relearning how to see the world, the way it blots over each thing like flecks on a watercolor painting and makes you reevaluate its shape. The sun isn’t visible right now where the performer is, instead diffusing its rays through the fading foliage in this magical way. It’s fascinating, really, how in autumn so many plants seem to give one last hurrah by bleeding out all their bright colors before it’s time to die. There’s a similar reason why the performer is now stuck with her once favorite dress and sweater.

She wears both now, of course, as there is nothing else in her wardrobe. In the springtime with Hidan and Kakuzu’s initial company, it was quite fitting! White with pink and blue detailings, sort of like flowers fresh from the melting snow. Summer managed to fit still, sweater removable and sunhat appropriate. But now in fall, the warming hues of crimson, orange, gold, and brown make her miss a scarf she used to have with matching colors. The fiery rainbow refracts in her eyes until a cool-toned finger gently brushes up and down her arm. Kisame always oozes with a strange, contagious sort of vibrancy even though he doesn’t bounce off the walls like Tobi nor raise his voice like Hidan. It’s subtle, and though his color is blue, it’s an attitude that suits red maple leaves and yellowing morning glory vines that climb up old, moss-sodden lattice.

“Told you it’d be nice to get out of the place,” he asserts, having figuratively dragged her from bed for this. And she beams up at him, as though the woman is bone-tired, he is still right.

“Hey!" 

…Someone shouts to get their attention. A head of spiked hair perks up with double the attentiveness for his ward who can hardly blink, shifting his shoulders to turn them both around. Once it's had, Hidan purses his lips and gives the fish a judging look; he lets it sink in before putting in his two cents. "You shouldn't be carrying her everywhere.”

The privacy is quickly shattered, the interrupting voice reminding the performer of how, exactly, she even managed to go outside: that Kisame only got her here by picking her up and taking the lady himself. He’s so strong that it became second nature for a few minutes, and the silly thing entirely forgot that she is a grown-ass woman that can suddenly be held like a toddler. Mute, she instantly shrinks closer to his cloak— which he now dons over his indigo tank top with the chiller weather— a redness on her cheeks. The taller man blinks with a frown at his sudden opponent with gray hair and righteous attitude. "It's better than her staying in one spot for too long, isn’t it?”

Hidan effectively scrunches one half of his face, corner of his mouth pulling up and the right eye squinting. He’s seen her move on her own; why not just let her? It doesn’t make sense! Will she forget how?! “Then have her walk!”

A whimper is all she’s got, hiding more into the dark cloth at the shark’s neck. Kisame defends, a snarl curling his upper lip: "She's enjoying it."

The shirtless grim reaper stares long and hard to verify this to no avail, rolling his eyes back up to the fellow Akatsuki. "She looks unhappy, asshole."

"Yeah, now that you're scolding her,” the swordsman parries, holding her just a little bit closer as if the arm of his cloak can shield the poor woman from misunderstanding cruelty. “Can you either get with the program or shut up?"

"What?!” Hidan, of course takes offense, redirecting his attention to the one he’s actually worried for. “Girlie, hey! Look over here!" To Kisame’s dismay, ever so slowly…she abides, and he notes the anxiety in her eyes. "You enjoying that?" A flush in her cheeks...but she nods. There is no way to deny that this is oh so very wonderful. The priest blinks twice in disbelief. “W—... really?”  

Hidan’s double down is about to knock her off her feet (metaphorically, too): 

"Then— then let me carry you, too!"

Kisame’s response is immediate: "...What the hell?" he blinks back with his own shock. His shaming doesn’t work on a man who has no shame to speak of.

"If you get to, so do I,” Hidan argues, folding his arms matter-of-fact. “Simple as that!"

...By technicality, that is true. The kiri-nin looks to her attached to his side for approval or lack thereof once more. "You don't have to say yes...” he reminds under his breath.

But the consideration is heavy, her soft eyes glancing over to the silver-haired man standing on this path outside their house. Is Hidan only asking because he's jealous? Does he even want to? They haven't really talked since they…you know. But the firmness there... Regardless of motive, it does seem to be a sincere want. But she has her own, in spite of how she misses him: "I don't...want to be a bother..."

To that he frowns, and his hands lower onto his waist in a sure, somewhat annoyed stance. "Yer not." His half-lidded stare alone dares anyone to ask why he wants this, including her.

Unable to formulate an acceptance as an apology...she just nods up to the shark to abide by the other man’s wishes. Kisame reluctantly, awkwardly passes her to him, muttering something about not fucking dropping her, and she’s unsure what to do with her own arms in this exchange—

"Come ‘ere."

So Hidan does the actions for her, careful fingers with a ring like dusty dry blood adjusting her hands to loop around his neck and the back of her knees to go over his cloaked arm. The way he looks at her...hooded eyes so close to her own... Geez, it's a bit more believable Kisame is so strong, being so very tall and less human looking. Hidan is just... a guy. But she gives him no problem whatsoever...!

She remembers abruptly how heavy his scythe was. Oh.

…

...

"Okay..." Hidan asks the swordsman after glancing her up and down, "Now what?"

It's Kisame's turn to raise an eyebrow this time. "...What do you mean,” he asks flatly.

"The fuck do you do next?"

Kisame squints so much harder that his actual eyes aren't visible, merely small black gills over a widening grimace. He is starting to regret this pass-off. "You...hold her...?"

"I'll do it, un."

Before Hidan can argue his place, a blonde takes her into his own sure, smooth grasp. Oh dear. He's even smaller than Hidan but picks her up like she's lighter than a kitten...! It shuts her up into pure, unadulterated silence with a stare as big as two dinner plates. "Hey, darling." The artist blinks, smiling still but brow curling, shy girl saying nothing to help alleviate tension. "...What are we carrying you for...?" Deidara inquires.

"That’s what I was asking! Now let her down, okay?"

"Why?” Deidara scoffs at Hidan, backing half a step away as the latter ninja approaches to grab her back. “You were the one holding her, un."

"You didn't ask!"

"...Did I need to?"

"Yes," both fish and Jashinist confirm in aggravated unison.

Ohhh my gosh. Her face hurts from blushing so much, eyes from being so wide. Kisame takes it as his cue and he tentatively steps up, reaching out to take her back from this problem he incidentally started. "Let me...just—...” he stammers, ready to rescue from a social faux pas. “Come here, Takara-hime—"

"Swoop!"

With a flash of black and orange, an unexpected fourth man slips between them and flees, pastel-dressed prize in his arms. He trots away with the speed of a child stealing from a candy store, reaction stagnated by shock just until his long, trailing scarf is out of sight:

“TOBI!”

“TOBI?!”

“TOBI, YOU GODDAMN COCKSUCKER!!!”

The chase begins, a whine at the back of the kidnappee’s throat that wavers with each bounce of his feet. “Heehee!” he laughs, “Takara-chan is mine, mine mine mine!” the jester teases, shit-eating grin surely behind the spiral he wears as he revels in the tight grip lovely fingers make into his clothes. The swift shinobi weaves around one corner of the house, speeding through a pile of leaves which scatter about like Tobi had stepped on coals of a fire, flying sparks and embers that crunch instead of crackle. “If—” he huffs an exaggerated breath, “—They can’t decide who has you—” Breath. Another corner of the house is rounded. “—Then—” Breath. He stomps through a couple-days-old puddle, water droplets splashing cold against her legs. “It’s gonna— be me!”

The thief twists around one more side of the ancient home lined in dead vines like a gold trim only to be caught by surprise. Abrutptly, he stops to a halt, seeing something before his dear Takara-chan can register the new danger.

“Oh?” One...Two...Three. Surrounded!

Kisame is grinning to the left, Hidan is frowning to the right, and a fuming Deidara is directly behind, sliding open the back door with Tobi’s name cursing from the back of the tongue within his head. She’s not even the one running and this is all making the traveler lose her breath. How the hell did they move so fast...?! It’s only been all of, what, ten fucking seconds?!

"Oh— guess you got me!” He's playing, the fellow performer can still tell. Something's up his sleeve. Okay...so what does that mean—? “Catch!"

It means she's not ready for what's next, not all.

“AAAAAAH-!”

The woman screams as she’s tossed unceremoniously up to the clouds, feeling the force of gravity first in the way that her body attempts to break it, climbing up and up and up with the power of his throw. A couple of times on roller coasters have prepared her instincts well: her stomach sinks in anticipation for the rest of her, just as the acceleration slows and the drop is about to begin.

“AAA—” … And she waits for a fall that does not come. “...Oh…?” The first thing in her vision is the bright blue sky in contrast to the vast forest. Wow...what a view. It’s open like she’s high above—

—Oh. Oh Jesus. Is she really two stories up in the air? TOBI?!

A heavy, heavy sigh is heard from an open window nearby, practically behind her ear. It wakes her up to look down, first at the guys staring up at her from the ground, then a bit closer to her own self. Black threads wrap around her body, around from her back and then loop over and over around her legs; it feels as secure as, well, if you somehow warped metal straight out of the flame to a custom fit just for you. The sight of herself is enough to swallow further shrieks, much to the relief of he who has rescued her from such reckless affairs.

Kakuzu leans down, open fist outside the threshold of the window pane with threads weaving out of rips in his skin that keep her in place. Menacingly, his glower rolls down to the ants below. "You...stupid motherfuckers."

"IT WAS TOBI, JACKASS!" Hidan quickly accuses, pointing to the culprit. A growl and a death glare is all it takes for the masked man to whine like a scared puppy. That’s good enough to appease Kakuzu. For now.

Ironically enough, it's his turn in this ridiculous game: "Come on, then..."

The three watch as the woman flies back into the house, a small eek on the back of her tongue and window promptly shut behind her with a slam. A moment of silence, all four men staring up to where she was spirited away.

…

…

“He’s going to kill you, you know,” Hidan states without any urgency, glancing over to the orange spiral. “He’s kind of famous for that.” And though Tobi fakes shaking in his boots very, very convincingly, everyone else still thinks he’d deserve it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

What will become of my dear friend?

Where will his actions lead us then?

Although I'd like to join the crowd

In their enthusiastic cloud

Try as I may, it doesn't last

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

What a mess, Kakuzu thinks. He exhales, fully undressed besides a pair of pants, no face covering nor shirt to cover his unnerving stitches. Thanks, Tobi. A small “oof” is muttered as the woman is set down on his bed without a second glance, man himself turning around to retain what little respect he has left. It's an opportunity for the performer to briefly gain her bearings. Kakuzu’s room, she vaguely recalls. Really has been inside it only once— no, not even inside . She’s only seen into it less than a handful of times. Frankly, it’s pretty...ordinary. It’s clean. It at first seems to lack hobbies. No piles of clay, no sword to polish (re-wrap??? Samehada is a stick of bandages, after all), no circle to pray in. But it becomes apparent that what he has instead of things to humor him is...finances. Receipts and bills are nicely organized or are in a pile waiting to be, a bingo book of wanted criminals open that perhaps may promise enough funds to keep this makeshift horrid fucking family alive another day. A couple of briefcases are neatly lined next to his desk, metal and heavy looking as if to transport valuables.

Her head shifts side to side. Grumbling, taking no heed, the treasurer has walked over to his closet in search of attire to make him better suited to be around a lady. He forgets so easily that the strangest thing about him isn't just the stitches but what they lead to on his backside…

"What...?"

Thinking this is about the metal threads, he looks over his shoulder as she finally looks to him and speaks. “They—” he begins. But, oh. Oh, no, it isn’t those her eyes are locked on; the threads have slunk back into his hollowed body already. What he sees, instead, is her pointing squarely at the masks. There's four of them, different animals and colors.

"Are those...attached to you?"

Ah. Right. Damn . He exhales yet again, not moving so she gets a good long look, ogles to her heart's content at the freak he is, get it out of the way. Guess it was inevitable she find out. "Yes." Then he reaches forward, a tank top chosen off the shelf with an open back for these creatures. It’s more comfortable, for one, and for another makes it easier to fight if they don’t have to pop through and ruin a perfectly good shirt. Never can be too prepared. Not too fast as to not scare, he turns his front back around despite his bare chest facing her. She looks so small, somehow, head hunched down and eyes angled up as she sits upon the edge of his own bed. How do they always get off the wrong foot when they don't even try?

"I'm sorry." Because of course she is. There’s footsteps coming up the stairs.

One thing is sure: "Don't be."

A thread drifts away from his bicep like an autonomous, thin tentacle, locking the door just in time to hear the nob shift futility and Hidan knock ever so impatiently to be let in. His head turns sharply, a snarl on his face. She notes how the way his eyes scrunch up is such a common expression above his usual mask; does he always frown like that when they do? "Give the girl ten damn minutes without your nonsense!"

Vague but clearly angry response muddles through the closed door, but Kakuzu's expression stays and so does his order. A moment of silence and gradually the arguing fades, something about promising to be back later. The hunter’s tense brow relaxes and so do the corners of his lips, and red and green eyes stop bulging. In. Out. He catches his breath and turns boiling rage to a simmer. For her sake. Calm down, for her sake.

The stitches on his face move with his cheeks, she can tell from where she grips the edge of the bed; they are, most certainly, not just burns or scars or face paint. His eyes catch hers, a challenge in them that regains a sliver of the anger he managed to beat back, daring her to call him a monster. Unnatural. Hideous. It’s all true, just get it over with. A flash of something else was before that, though, on his face. It's an emotion that feels familiar in her own chest.

Despite his expectations, she reaches out to him, slowly raising her wrist with a begging, upward-facing palm. He doesn't flinch, eyes starting at the woman’s fingertips, trailing up her arm and to her face.

"...What?"

How can she say it? Both palms, now, come back, gesturing together for him to come here. Out of pure confusion and desire to know what the hell she means, Kakuzu simply obeys.

Shaky hands go to the brown arm as he grunts with the unexpected contact, even as her touch is more gentle than he could have imagined. Maybe even especially so. As she sits on his bed, one hand goes under his palm to steady it in place while the other wanders up to explore, both visually and tactilly...

The bounty hunter…has two tattooed bands on his forearm. At first she assumed that's where they come from, but no, the actual stitches are higher up, unmistakable as the source of his eldritch-seeming threads. She traces up to the shoulder, then under his chin. There's even more of these lines on his torso, seen far, far too easily as he hasn’t yet slipped on his top in this unexpected intermission, and she can tell they all lead like train tracks to the masks embedded into his latissimus dorsi. Her eyes consume him, taste him, know him. She's far from the first to witness him like this, in battle or otherwise, and so he ignores the sense of novelty that washes over him and behaves with expectations that are tried and true. Something Kakuzu and his musician have in common is how they’ll insult themselves with the truth before you can turn it against them first.

"...I know. I know what I look like." But she acts like she hasn't . She's seen him before, though, the times she barged in at the peak of midnight...why is it different now?

Sometimes trauma heightens the senses, lets you take in things better than before. The quivering touch of the performer moves to reach further upon his skin, still. In awe, fingertips barely brush against his chest and most unbelievably, he doesn't stop her.

Tears well up on her eyes, which to his surprise turn up to his own instead of staying locked lower down on his ugly, deformed self.

"Does it hurt?"

...That’s not something he's been asked before. IF it hurt, yes, when “it” happened decades ago. If it does when hearts pump out of his back to attack and spew the elements at his enemies. Yes and yes, answers to both as well as if others have been so brave as to inquire directly to the bastard himself. But does he hurt now , merely existing with this curse? It's been so long with the aches stitched into him that he's forgotten, so he searches the numbness under his skin for what the answer may be.

"...Yes," he discovers, despite how it might make her cry. He knows she likes the truth. "...But it's better than before,” Kakuzu softens. In several ways. Better off with than without them. Better off than being fully human. Better off than being dead.

He sits down next to her and unbelievably, after rubbing the saltwater from her face, this woman shifts. Yes, yes, he is not mistaken; this woman now crawls onto his lap.

And he lets her. 

All hearts pounding in discordant, unmatched pulses, he lets her. Legs wrap around his side, thighs seated atop his own. She trusts him. Even after everything, even seeing him like this...—? Oh so delicately, with a hesitance that draws her away before curiosity pulls her back in, this soothing lady traces the metal woven into him. The way he is… It reminds her of something. Something distinct. A visceral sort of memory, one from long, long ago…

…Kakuzu notices before she does that his performer is humming.

It's a tune both sweet and melancholy, befitting a creature like her and somehow, too, the way she approaches a beast like him. His gaze softens, lips no longer a stern, stretched line, and he drinks her wonder in. Kakuzu missed the songs that used to always tinge her voice, and this is the first it’s come back since she has come back home to him, even if so, very small.

“...Oh…!” The woman pulls back, somehow both after too long and far too soon, and she...smiles up at him. This…who he is…makes her happy? “...You remind me of...a rag doll.”

…

Dark brown hair drifts past his face as he savors that nickname, elaborates to himself on the implications. He’s been called it before, yeah...usually just before deciding to detach the person by their arteries. How can it seem so... kind from those lips? So adoring…? She has an answer, and it’s silly just like her.

“When I was little…” the performer tries to explain with stilted words, as plainly as she can so as to not confuse, “...I loved a story. It had a rag doll...who...stuffed herself with leaves.”

The Frankenstein's Monster stays silent, does so regardless of if there’s more for her to add. The slightest, softest inhale and the humming begins again...this time closer to the singing the Akatsuki miss, just without words. Down, up, and up...down… Down, up, and up...down… Lovely indeed, whatever it is, even if simple and bouncy. It was, after all, one of the first melodies she memorized on her own volition. Idly, she traces him again, finding a spot just at his collarbone and right at her line of sight. The threads are stiffer than they look, less like woven fabric and more like surgical staples. How do they move with such lithe grace, so little effort?

As she ponderers this question, one of his own springs off Kakuzu's tongue like a diving board.

“...You never sang when you were alive?” To his relief, the humming doesn’t stop; it’s such a piece of her, this melody that she can do it without thinking. A free hand wipes her eye again, and despite the nature of everything, her tiny smile does not waver nor flinch away as she answers.

“...I wanted to,” she murmurs after a moment, voice light and wispy much the same way as she seems next to someone rough like himself. “I wanted to be a singer...a musician…” A guitarist, a keyboard player, a...star. A performer. “I...learned...to stop doing it...just because I felt I had to, and started doing it...for fun by myself.”

Eyes close, and she tries to identify these marks on him with touch alone, tries to narrow down exactly what he feels like skin on skin. Kakuzu wonders if she can feel how his pulse is stronger than one any normal person should have.

“You could have been.” And she is now, he reminds himself. Or at least she will be once this nonsense is said and done and she can get back to a nondescript civilian life. But...she shakes her head.

“Too scared,” the woman says, “Too shy.”

“How do you know that? Did you try?” Perhaps foolish to challenge; the thing she is surest in besides the persistent strength of humanity is the failures of her own making.

“I had the chance...I was offered...to be in a play…” The smile widens, showing teeth and hiding a grimace. “...I was too little and too scared. And I never…”

…

She doesn’t continue that thought.

“Why didn't you try again? You were just a child, right? Children are allowed to be wrong.” But as soon as he says it, he knows this isn’t true. He knows from experience. So does she. A long, painful silence...and then her eyes open. The humming continues, sweet and sad. She reaches up into his hair, delicately, to see if it feels as smooth as it looks.

"She falls in love with someone...who can't see his demise coming,” the woman explains of the rag doll with leaves. His brown hair is silky and soft. “She tries to help. In the end...it gets her in trouble. He realizes she's in danger and saves her." Kakuzu raises a brow, stitches at his mouth exaggerating a purse of his lips.

"What monster pairs with a living rag doll?" And to his surprise, she beams once more:

"A skeleton!"

...Oh. He grunts, his way of chuckling without being so vulnerable as to give off actual mirth, eyes hooding and smirk forming. "I know what you're going to say, Takara...that that’s like us."

The combing stops, big eyes blinking their befuddlement as the curled fingers pull away. "Excuse me?"

...Oh, dammit. She has never even seen Hidan's ritual form, and so Kakuzu feels his face flush at making the connection himself. Goddammit… As if Hidan could ever save him. It's always the other way around...

"Am...am I...a...a skeleton?" she stutters, not getting it.

"No,” he cuts in sharply. Too sharp, in fact— “I mean— ...never mind."

…

…

The now free hands of the woman fidget index fingers, pressing tip against tip. "There's another character...that's filled with bugs," she adds, as if this is helpful in any way whatsoever.

"…" Kakuzu answers, gaze narrowed and mouth in a straight line.

"I like bugs."

And so he exhales yet-fucking-again. "Takara, you're very fortunate I happen to be tolerant of the dumb shit you say." Hidan owes him for that, too, really.

"Oh." The woman on his lap doesn't need to say: she's sorry. She gets shy and withdrawn and her hands drift even further away. Exasperated, Kakuzu takes them into his own grasp.

"...But it's better than you never talking again."

He can't touch her with his own hands; surely he's too rough, both literally and figuratively. The threads come instead, strange and cold and inhuman. It only makes her remember what it was like to hold him by the fingers, though, as she did once when Kakuzu taught her how to read the stars.

"...Can I ask you something rude?"

What a weird thing to ask. He shrugs, just barely so not to shake her too much up and down as she sits on him. Is this fine? Is she safe so close to him? Is it proper for a man to let her do it? And yet he can’t bring himself to pull them apart. "Alright."

"Why is your skin... so...?"

It isn’t a sigh this time as he releases air from heavy lungs, but a chuckle. You can tell it comes from deep in his chest, even if quiet. "It'd be rude if you ignored it. That's just how I am now."

She blinks again, lashes fluttering. "You weren't... always...?"

"No. I was someone else a long time ago."

"Like me?"

…

He thinks about this, long and hard. This girl does, after all, remind him of who he used to be. So what does that mean of her before? He recalls her mentions of a life before a death, an existence riddled with agony, debt, and servitude. A broken loyalty to a system that felt nothing for her, and waking up to abandon it by any means necessary. …So, perhaps, they have switched lives. Silly boy to serious man. Serious woman to silly girl. Funny how life works out. They both had a death of sorts in between to make it happen, and here they are.

"Sure. Like you, I guess."

"Thank you," she responds inexplicably, despite the implications he sees, an emotion so bright dripping from her mouth like honey from a hive. There isn’t even a blush on her face; with the next action, it’s all whimsy and instinct and no thought whatsoever. It has to be, to be so silly.

The woman leans up and presses a kiss on his forehead, for once bare of the headband marked with his betrayal. A sensation tingles down his own cheeks, down his neck, into the depths of five dark hearts. Despite it all...he feels joy. It makes him tense up. Alas, this is so easy to pick up on with how close they are, and she jerks back immediately, crawling off his lap just as quickly as she got on. Now her face is red.

"Sorry…! I—... Sorry."

Sorry... That’s the right word for giving a guy like him the time of day, the warmth from a sixth blood-pumping organ somehow tied inseparably to his quintet. "It's fine,” he responds in calculation, choosing not to tell her how much he enjoyed it. “Just...be careful who you do that to. Alright?"

Instead of asking why, she simply says, unable to look him in the face: "I'm bad…" And calmly— oh so calmly compared to a moment ago— he retorts, his own voice murmured and already longing for her song.

"I didn't say that."

...

"I meant it,” the taki-nin elaborates, both as a comfort and an admonition. “We're all like this, Takara. ...If not outside like me then on the inside. Keep your wits about you. Save your affection for those who are deserving. It isn’t you that’s wrong, here. If someone has to be called 'bad'…" Childish worldview as it is, to be so black and white, the answer is undeniable. “...It’s us. They threw you, for god’s sake.”

"But...I...—"

"And if you can't," he adds selfishly, and the next is a whisper. "At least be tactful about it." The scariest part about what happens next is that he does, indeed, mull it over before it’s done. The outcomes are considered, the details poured over, and the fool still does exactly as he's warned her of.

A press of his world-weary lips comes from out of nowhere yet arrives so, so gently, just as soon pulling back before she can even tell what's happened. And though he isn’t brimming with sunshine like Takara can, this old man still can’t hide he’s making a silly, silly choice. "...Duckling."

And that’s it. There’s the slightest smirk on his face as he slinks backwards off the bed, visible until Kakuzu turns around and throws the signature cloak of his ilk over leathery-textured shoulders. The traveler gapes, what she thought as her mistake now his confirmation—

“Oi!” another guilty pleasure beckons impatiently behind Kakuzu’s locks. The bounty hunter huffs, allowing the woman one last opportunity to see a widening grin before the mask slips back on.

“Perfect timing.”

Before she knows it, another, paler set of arms come around the performer, Hidan complaining with his chin upon her head of her terrible, unforgivable absence for all of ten minutes. It really is over so very, very quickly. It has to be, lest the choices grow poorer and poorer between a half-naked man and a lady not even back to herself.

But he hums the lonely rag doll’s song back to himself all the same in private the rest of this day, up through dinner, in the bath, hell— maybe even in his sleep. It somehow sounds just fine on his old, gravely tongue as a mind re-walks the life it’s led just to work up to something as stupid and risky as this. Dead leaves fall down past the window where the zombie scooped her into his waiting lap, and he wonders what it would be like to stuff them underneath his patchwork skin.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And will we ever end up together?

No, I think not, it's never to become

For I am not the one

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[spot-of-tea]

Breaking curses.

Okay so I was recently thinking about some of my past au's and I was specifically thinking about all the way I'd come up with to break or alter Zeref's curse. So let's take a look shall we.

Obligatory putting in a line break because this will be long

Okay so first off we have the only version (so far) that I've actually written down.

Death.

So essentially Zeref still dies like he does in canon which breaks his curse, except he doesn't stay dead. The version of this your most likely familiar with is tswwid were Zeref comes back to life through a failed reincarnation leading to his soul becoming entwined with his nephew (an even earlier incarnation of this fic was much darker and his soul became fused with Luna's and Iggy didn't initially exist).

An alternative to this version was instead of him coming back, somewhat, naturally, a cult managed to successfully revive him thinking he would bring about a new order. Only for him to massacre the group in anger that he'd been denied the one thing he's sought after for hundreds of years. Only for him to not realise that he's now human and treks all the way back to Magnolia to beg Natsu to kill him a second time. he is obviously denied and goes on a journey of learning to accept his new life.

The next one we have is...

The Dragon Scale Coat.

So this version was originally a papalogia au that I thought up. If you're unfamiliar with papalogia essentially Acnologia becomes an, almost, good guy and begrudgingly raises the five dragon slayers (seven if you include Laxus and Erik too). This version happens either after the Tenrou arc or earlier if somehow Natsu and Zeref encounter each other and Natsu learns that his scarf can protect him from Zeref's curse. With this knowledge in mind Acnologia decides to bodily drag Zeref from his own pity party and creates a dragon scale coat made from his own shed scales.

In some instances the coat is reinforced to negate as much of his curse as possible in others it does it naturally. either way the effect is the same. While wearing the coat, Zeref's curse is locked away and can no longer hurt anyone. The problem arises is that it also significantly reduces his regenerative abilities and means that he cannot take the coat off without realising his curse. inevitably leading to some precarious situations.

Then finally we have...

A Deal Gone Wrong.

I am not going to go too much into this one because it does give away spoilers for a future project. But the idea boils down to the thought that someone wanting to help Zeref finds a way to summon Ankhselam and bargains for his curse to be broken. It doesn't necessarily go well. In this version Ankhselam is a cruel and callous god that enjoys toying with humans, so in order to make a bad situation worse grants their request a la monkey paw style.

The end result doesn't break Zeref's curse but it does lessen it to the point that it can no longer hurt the people around him. He retains his immortality and agelessness but he retains the death magic that has plagued him, just a more controllable version.

So yes, Here are the main ideas I had so far... if you've got further questions or want to expand on anything have at it my friends :3

[spacemonkeysalsa]

God of Ambivalence

A tiefling Artificer trying to carve a new path for himself splits a large stone on a beach to discover something truly shocking: a wizard missing a hand and in need of a lot of help, and magical items. Lucky for the wizard, Elion happens to be a fount of magical items. Pairing - OC/Gale & Shadowheart/Lae'zel but there will be more as it goes on.

Read on Ao3

or Chapter One below the cut

Chapter One

As a stone mason’s apprentice Elion had looked forward to the finer parts of the craft. Unfortunately, it would be years before he could dazzle some lucky beloved with a carved rose, or anything at all that was delicate or beautiful. So far, under master Faydor he seemed to be good for little more than hiking and hauling heavy rock. He acknowledged the bitterness he felt and gave voice to it in a sigh, as he removed the scarf from off his horns. He dampened the scarf with his water jug to cool off his neck and shoulder.

Weren’t Selûne’s penitent followers more appropriate for this task?

It certainly didn’t require his skill to walk a half-mile in the heat, dragging a borrowed cart to move great pieces of rock back the way he’d come. Couldn’t one of the other denizens of Moonhaven Anew do it? It was their harvest season, that’s what Faydor had said. Elion was pretty sure the old man was having him on though. Born and raised the city, Elion didn’t know much about provincial life, but he was fairly certain harvest time was another month out.

What am I doing here? It was the hundredth time he’d wondered, since leaving Baldur’s Gate. His mother was right, it was a stupid, rash decision. Switching career paths at this stage—and stonecraft? It had always been a hobby. Maybe he was giving his skills too much credit, maybe Faydor knew it and that’s why he had him hauling rocks rather than working with a chisel.

Of course, with the right materials, and a little time, he could make up for that, but he didn’t think Faydor would like it. The man was old fashioned in his craft as much as anything else. He wouldn’t appreciate innovation. A rustle from the bushes caught his ear, but it was the kind of sound that was easy to overlook. A rabbit, surely. Then he saw horns. A goat? Horns like his. Another tiefling.

He started and dropped the cart, but the girl looked startled to see him. She was tense all through her petite stature, very small for a tiefling, but not a child any longer, to be certain. Her burning orange eyes skewed him. The word that came to mind when he looked at her was 'wild.' Her orchid pink skin was blackening at her clawed fingertips and the end of her tail. Her horns were carved with lines of script and grafted with something shining and black. She wore clothes, almost. More like scraps falling to pieces, though at one point the pieces could have been druidic armor. Her ash brown hair was a pile on top of her head, braided near the scalp, bond where it came loose, and filthy with leaves and the remnants of a flower crown of pink.

“Oh!” She stood, sighing in relief as she hid a flare of green light in her palm. The girl smiled, sheepish, “You’re so big, I thought you were a cambion for a moment! But there, no wings, far too cool and too dark a complexion.” she darted out from the bushes and approached him, at a tumble. Her feet were bare, blackened as well.

The smell of magic hung heavy around her, it burned his eyes and thumped against his head when she spoke. It wasn’t like the taste of weave he knew. There was something deep and far away and echoing about it. The girl stood grounded; he couldn’t help but imagine great cords, like roots, holding her, pulling her into the heart of Toril itself.

A druid, probably. But, was that all? There was something nearly fey about her.

Whoever she was, she was powerful, and so he held his tongue and stood still, letting her examine him.

Her tail lashed behind her as she peered at him, tipping her chin all the way back to look up at him. “Hmmm. You’re perfect,” she declared.

“Perfect for what?”

“I need a little help, will you follow me?”

Even a city boy like Elion knew that it was foolish to follow a mysterious person, maybe fey, into the woods.

But, she wasn’t going to the woods, instead, she was gesturing down the path. “I don’t have the right tools, or the muscle,” she flexed for him, her arms twiggy.

He shifted, watching her. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry, at least. She stared at him with an unnerving smile. “None of the animals will help,” she continued. “I made the mistake of admitting to them that it would be loud, so they all left.”

“Who are you?” He was owed that much.

That he was even considering following her still felt foolish. But, he rarely met another tiefling, and one with fey ties (rather than infernal ones) was intriguing to say the least.

“I’m Arabella,” she said with a little laugh at herself. “And dear me, I forgot all that! Introductions. Handshakes. Do people shake hands, or did I dream that? Do we touch horns because we’re tieflings? I don’t think I’ve dreamt that. Or done it. Is that silly? Or too intimate?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know many other tieflings.”

“Me neither—well, not anymore." Arabella’s shoulders slumped and for a moment she looked incandescently sad, so much so that it startled him. She recovered with another beaming smile. “Help me, and it will be trouble, but the good kind. I need to split a stone. You’re out here to do that anyway, aren’t you?” she gestured to the cart he was hauling, and the tools inside.

“I’m supposed to bring back a few blocks. They’re rebuilding the old Selûnite Sanctum.”

“They are, or you are, or you all are?”

A question he’d been asking himself. It felt like he was doing a larger part of the work than anyone besides his own master, and for a god he didn’t even worship.

“It’s good rock,” she promised, “I don’t know what you call it. Granite? I don’t use as many words as I should, I suppose.” She shrugged and started down the path again, in perfect confidence that Elion would follow her.

His tail twitched behind him, anxious. It didn’t seem like any of the stories he’d heard of foolish travelers trusting mischievous fey in the woods. For one thing, he wasn’t desperate for anything that a fey would try to take advantage of him, was he? He might be desperately bored, but that was different.

Besides that, he wasn’t even sure Arabella was fey. She could be a very strange druid girl with poor communication skills. The rock might be in the way.

Ocean spray rattled in the distance as it showered over the old ruins and wreckage. Elion had only seen the nautiloid up close once since coming to this little corner of the sword coast. He was sure it didn’t look how it would have looked back when it could fly, before it rained in deadly burning pieces over the beach. The land had reclaimed much of it, trees extended through its fractures, and roots bubbled up under the charred carcass of the ship. 

She led them very close to it, but then to a pale, sloped stone, old rune marks long faded, though Elion could still feel some pull to them, some power.

As Arabella approached the stone, she leaned into it, embracing the rock like an old friend. From the sigh on her lips and the way she relaxed, he imagined it was warm from the heat of the sun. “Yes. In here. Something old. Powerful. Hungry. Something dead. Something returned.” She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder without releasing the stone, “could be dangerous,” she enticed and warned, all at once. With one blackened nail she tapped the surface of the rock. Then moved a hand over and tapped again. Then up, so it was almost eye-level. “Here. Strike here, and it will divide.”

It didn’t look like terrible rock to use for rebuilding the temple pillars, and the runes were so faded. Whatever magic had crackled there long ago, was long since faded. The air didn’t even have the scent any longer. He made a mark with his chisel, right where Arabella had shown him. It was a little bit higher than was comfortable, but he found he trusted that she might know what she was talking about. He did have something in the way of a heightened sense when it came to these things, and there was something trembling and weak about where she’d placed her fingers, like the rock wanted to peel open and had already chosen its own soft spots. He didn’t have to work very much at all before there was an opening. The stone was not granite, but it would do. He made enough of a gash that he could wedge his splint into the stone, then went back to the cart to get a wooden mallet.

Arabella watched the whole time, sitting cross legged on the ground and gazing up at him, or at the stone, fixed smile, curious, and eyes flamed.

Now came the part that was loud, the part that had dissuaded the animals from being any help to the strange druid. He hit the splint hard with the mallet and the few birds that remained in the wreckage scattered into the air. The bang barked in the distance. Elion was strong and had managed to split stones in few hits before, but this one cracked immediately. The rock wanted to break open, perhaps it would have done so, left to its own devices, and with a little more time. The crack of the rock and its split all the way through the middle was even louder than the strike of the mallet, and Elion stumbled backwards to avoid being caught and crushed under the falling rock.

He caught sight of something in the center of the dust and debris, a dark undulating light of purple, with a sickly sweet acrid scent, and something else. Necrosis.

Arabella was on her feet again, backing away. “Oh,” she looked frightened, he realized, “oh no. Oh dear.” She threw her eyes around, as though quite worried that there was something coming. Or someone watching. “He needs help and I cannot help him,” was she talking about Elion? Talking to herself? “I can’t get any closer, tiefling boy who’s name I do not know. I can’t get closer, now that there is no rock to protect me.”

You don’t know my name because you didn’t ask. “Closer to…?” The dust from the rock’s destruction was still thick in the air, but the crackling swirl of magic at the center of it was starting to sharpen. Whatever it was, it was still, but stinking of magic and danger and death. The dust started to clear, even as he watched, he turned back to Arabella, to demand instructions, insight, something—but the tiefling girl was gone.

Of course she was.

Fey creature indeed.

As the dust fully cleared, Elion finally saw what he’d unleashed from the stone. In the center of the wreckage a man lay limp, his features and body obscured by a strange dark looking film of black, green and purple that Elion couldn’t identify. He was hurt badly, by the unconscious state of him and the grayish tinge to his skin under the film, but he was certainly alive, trying to breathe. 

His right hand had been severed and ended in a messy cauterized stump.

[ahawkinhallownest]

There was once a Wyrm, mighty and wise who slept among the mountains as the worn blue flag she wore upon her horn flapped in the alpine wind. Her coils wound around ancient rocky spires as she dreamed of a land unlike her own, one filled with mortal creatures of all shapes and sizes. She saw a town that sat in the protective shadow of two towers that pierced the sky, where the body of a long deceased Root took on a life of its own and became a sacred tree that purified the ground and air. Bugs of every kind walked through the streets, from Bees to Ants to Beetles, all ignorant of the Void brewing beneath their feet. As the ground cracked open and unleashed a hoard of dark creatures, the bugs fled into their houses, only for their doors to be torn down and for them to be dragged out and killed. Some ran to the tree, and while the sacred aura of the towering arbor kept the dark monsters at bay, it would only be a matter of time before the tree too would wither and die as the ground became polluted with Void.

What started as a pleasant dream about bugs had quickly turned into a nightmare of death and destruction, but there seemed to be a single glimmer of hope. A blonde-maned Moth wearing a crimson scarf his way fought through the horde with a golden Pure Nail in one hand and a magic nailgun in the other. He slaughtered as many as he could until he was able to make his way out of the village, where he was able to spread his wings and take to the sky. Where he intended on going was unknown to the Wyrm, for she woke before she could see where it was.

Something had entered her territory, stirring her from her slumber. Vibrations from feet as her uninvited guest climbing cliffs and mountains and the subtle shift in air currents as wings flapped directed her attention to near the border of the mountain range. The ground lurched as the Wyrm unwound her elongated body from the pinnacles of her mountains, with boulders tumbling down their slopes as she began slithering down, careful not to allow the flag she wore on her horn to catch on any debris. Her tremorsense afforded her an accurate map of every inch of ground in her domain, and she was able to easily locate the intruder.

A blonde-maned Moth wearing a crimson scarf stood before her, eyes wide in both terror and fascination. “I have been waiting for you, Ringo of San Miguel.” She rumbled, her voice shaking the ground below her as she loomed over the insect. “You come seeking my aid.”

“I have, but how did you know?” Ringo replied, jaw dropping at the realization that she had him completely figured out.

“Have you forgotten? I am a Wyrm, dearest golden one.” The Wyrm wormed her tail towards Ringo and placed it behind him, blocking off his ground route to escaping her if she were to attack. In spite of the obvious threat, he remained firm, afraid as he was. “I knew you were coming all along. I had dreamed about you.”

“You did?”

She nodded her huge, horned head. “I had been waiting so long for you.” She leaned in, her mandibles so massive that they could crunch through boulders with ease. “You are brave for coming all the way here to seek my help in saving your homeland.”

“Well,” Ringo started and took a defiant step forward with his hands balled up into fists. “If you know why I’m here, will you help us? My home is being attacked by monsters from underground, and we can’t fight them off by ourselves!” He reached out to her pleadingly. “Please, you have to!”

“Be calm, dearest golden one.” She raised the fan of uropods at the end of her tail to get his attention. “I will agree to join you in your crusade, for I have also dreamed that you will succeed with my help. But I ask for one thing in return.”

Ringo eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in confusion. “You want something from me?”

“It’s only natural, is it not? No one does anything for free, even you should know that.” The Wyrm leaned down, her colossal mandibles becoming a deadly cage to prevent the Moth from escaping. Though he was afraid, he kept his eyes on her face. “I only ask that you do something very important for me...”

Mani is a wyrm in this alternate world, which is basically the Hollow Knight setting’s equivalent of a dragon. She’s big, she’s purple, and she has lunar markings, and when she turns into a mortal bug later on, she becomes a luna moth, thus continuing her lunar aesthetic. She even has the blue scarf that Sabat would eventually wear on her horn, a small detail I was happy to somehow work into this design, though I describe it as an old flag. I wonder where the flag came from?

[ace-angel-judas]

I need an Arabella and Jungkook au where she’s a princess and he comes to her rescue or something 😤🤤 I need some dreamy savior Kook

“What the fuck have you done to yourself?!”

Arabella braced as a hand slapped against her cheek, her mother seething with rage as the guards held her in place.

As the sole ruler of the country, her mother had everything intricately planned. That included her entire life, which involved staying pure and getting married to a strong ally.

Which Arabella had ruined in a single night.

“So you take after your father and decide to be more beast than woman?!” Her mother gripped her face, turning her head to the side and screaming.

There was a deep gash on her neck, the blood crusted over and tried to her skin. But they both knew what it was, a mating mark from a Jimseung.

“I don’t even know my father..,” Arabella uttered out in a sob, “You took me from him!”

“He took you from me,” Her mother snarled, “Go get cleaned up, we have guests coming and you’ll be on your best behaviour or I’ll have to use the shackle again,”

Arabella flinching, shaking her head as fear filled her stomach. She didn’t mean for anything to happen last night, it had been the festival of the moon last night and she just wanted to enjoy herself.

The guards dragged her to her room, where the maids almost drowned her in a bath and scrubbed her skin raw.

She was dressed in the finest clothes for this event, meaning who ever was visiting was important.

“Princess,” A maid walked forward, holding a box.

Arabella’s eyes filled with tears, “No..,”

“Your mother commands it,”

The maid opened the box, the gold shackle making her skin crawl. It was designed to look like an anklet, a simple piece of jewelry that was clasped around her ankle.

But it was really a magical device, used to paralyse and subdue her. The one in control of the device?

Her mother.

The walk back to the throne room made her queasy, she hadn’t eaten since the night before and no doubt her mother wouldn’t allow her to even look at food today.

The Queen was dressed in an ugly green dress, Arabella trying not to grimace at the color. Her mother really didn’t have a taste for fashion or color, not to mention she dressed too provocative for her age.

“I supposed this is fine,” Her mother uttered and tied a scarf around her neck, “We can’t have anyone seeing that hideous thing on your neck,”

Arabella didn’t say a thing.

When a noise sounded, announcing the arrival of their guests, she kept her eyes on the floor. It was probably some prince or old king from an allying kingdom, not that they had many of those.

“We welcome the Neugdae clan to our humble kingdom,” Her mother spoke, Arabella instantly looking up, “I am more than happy to offer you a place to stay on your journey to the other continent,”

Three people stood in the throne room, dressed in white clothes that were decorated with gold. A tall woman to the left had stark green eyes, standing almost as tall as the men she was with. The man to the left had bright orange eyes with slits, his hair a burnt orange with black and white streaks in it.

The man in front, he was the person of interest. He had long black hair, dark red eyes and fangs that flashed when he smiled. Arabella felt her neck burn at the sight of him, her eyes going wide.

He was the man she met last night.

“Thank you for offering us shelter,” He spoke, “We’ll only be here for two nights before we depart again,”

Arabella tried not to scrunch up her face when her mother leaned forward, attempting to make her bosom look bigger and slashed a lustful smile.

It was no secret that the Queen enjoyed the company of Jimseung, her entire existence was proof of that fact.

Jimseung were also known as beastmen, they lived and ruled the other continent as well as the waters that surrounded their tiny island.

“This is my daughter, Arabella,” Her mother dismissed quickly, “She’ll be focusing on her studies during your stay here so she’ll be of no bother,”

The three seemed to stare at her, Arabella quickly averting her eyes to the floor. She did a simple curtsy as a hello.

“We’d hate to take up the queen’s time,” The man with red eyes spoke, “We’d be more than happy for the princess to give us a tour of the grounds,”

Arabella swallowed thickly before her mother shot up, lacing their arms together.

“As a matter of fact, we will both give you a tour of the grounds,” Her mother giggled, “Won’t we, Arabella?”

Before she could try and slip her arm away, a shock left the anklet. Arabella was forced to stay still as her mother dragged her across the throne room.

“What are your names again?” Her mother questioned.

“Sophia,” The woman nodded.

“Taehyung,” The man with orange hair hummed lowly.

The red eyed man seemed to snarl when he spoke, “Jungkook, and once again, we thank you for your hospitality and kindness,”

Arabella got a deep feeling that this visit was going to end in shambles.

[wonderland-productions-blog]

Knight in Dulled Armor Ch. 6

Chapter 6: Acrobatic Academic

My eyes drift upwards, taking in the view of the city still. Not all of Braiewood was in disarray, many of the buildings and streets were cleaner as I explored more open areas. The architecture wasn’t exactly typical of what I was familiar with. Brick and wood serve as most of the building materials here, unlike much of the metal and raw stone used in Asteria. The most prevalent difference was the sheer height of the buildings here. Many aspects played with the height of the buildings, like lofts, patios, and raised foundations.

I decide to head back into the aerial arts center, following back down the road I came from. This time I enter through the large double doors, and take a seat near the front of the crowd. People seemed to be biding time at the moment with no one on any stages, several seats now vacant, and those still sitting were chatting or immersed in other activities. While seated I catch a whiff of food cooking somewhere. I scan the area, a peck of hunger setting in. I notice a small counter and bar area with a man cooking behind it in the far corner of the room. 

The aerial performance seemed to be at an intermission for the time being, so I make my way to a stool at the counter. Only one other sat spaced between stools with me. I try to get the man cooking's attention, sticking my hand up and slightly forward. We make eye contact, but he doesn't bother to speak to me. I wait a few moments for him to finish what is cooking on the grill on the other side of the countertop. When he serves a plate to a man waiting and still doesn't bother to take my order I open my mouth to ask him when he is available to do so. 

My mouth is filled with something, my hand jumps up to cover my mouth. Juicy, soft, and savory my stomach churns upon the realization that it was meat. "Excuse me, I don't really eat meat." he glances up from his work for a moment, a brow raised. "Not many do, that is a mushroom and vegetable blend, it only resembles meat. We're not orcs, don't be absurd." I push aside the seemingly heated comment, "Sorry, I wasn't aware. Can I get a men-" I am once again cut off by him flinging a bit of the warm mushroom meat into my mouth via spatula.

I chew and swallow, growing impatient with his unprofessional attitude despite the great quality of the food. He sees my mouth descend into a scowl, "You're hungry, right? What's wrong?" he says through a smirk. "I'm joking of course, the menu is behind me," he says, moving over to reveal a large menu board. Upon inspection, I decide on fried rice with local veggies. He quickly prepares it, asking if I wanted it in a box rather than a plate. I panic and say nod without absorbing the information at first. He preps it into a small box with a wooden utensil, then passes it to me by a handle on its folded top. 

Light in the room shifted, blobs of color now dragging their way across the walls. My mind is brought back to wondering how the light morphs color and moves in such a way. The only possibility that remains after my eyes follow along the walls and floor extensively is that it was some kind of magic. Slow music kicks up, indicating the show may start soon. 

I make my way back to my seat in the crowd. A woman walks out onto the stage from a set of curtains behind her. A short airy skirt made from a vibrant lace hangs just above her mid-thigh. Peaking through this translucent skirt I was a glimpse of white lacy undergarments. A small sleeveless top of a similar style clung to her chest. The largest piece of fabric on her was a long scarf draped over her shoulders. 

She settled herself on stage, gripping one of the bars and gracefully pulling herself up onto it. She then hooks one leg onto a curved section of a bar, bending her body and allowing herself to hang from it. She morphs her body into different shapes with a series of twists and movements, creating a graceful and even sensual environment. She continues the aerial sport reminiscent of refined dance, using her scarf as a prop to hold herself in a brilliant display of strength. 

The music fades out for a moment, a silence nestles its way deep into the room. I look around the room, trying to gauge if the performance was over. My eyes snap back to the stage as the performer, now sitting on a high horizontal section of a bar, juts her hands out, falling back only catching herself with her fastened scarf at the last moment. The music now swells at a faster pace to match their routine. I notice a set of clicks and clanking above me in the pause, noticing a tall tile ceiling. 

Drawing my attention back, the woman covers her chest for a moment. She flings her hands back, revealing a new color of fabric on her top. She makes the same motion over her hips, changing the color of her skirt. She makes a quick jump onto a curved section of a bar rather than the previous slow precise movement. The bar begins to turn, and she begins a set of more exciting hangs and twirls. 

Before I know it the show is done, the woman drops to her knees at the end of the stage, blowing a kiss to the crowd before disappearing back behind the curtain. A series of applause erupts from the crowd and a few disperse. My finds find each other through the burst of sound, adding another set of claps to the applause. I should leave too, maybe find a less crowded place to eat my meal. 

I wait until all that choose to leave are gone so that I won't have to press through cramped doors and crowded streets outside. I step toward the door, feeling a tug against my shoulder. 

"You aren't going out that way, are you?" A smooth feminine voice uttered. I turn to see a woman only a bit taller than myself at the bar counter where I'd gotten my food. "Oh, my bad, sweetie. I thought you were a performer." She says.

She was of a darker tone than I was, her complexion resembled Hidorah's but I'd say held more of a reddish tint to it. I recognized her as the dancer on stage from earlier when I'd been chasing him. She no longer wore her sheer lace set but now a cropped shirt with a square neckline and a section of straight lace beneath it. Her long sleeves were the same sheer lace. She also wore a short white skirt sitting above the knee hanging loose on her hips. A set of colorful densely beaded cords clung to her waist above her naval. 

She must have noticed my staring, as she jutted a hip out and placed a hand upon it. She cocked her head, her dark frizzy hair bouncing up against her shoulder instead of scrunching against it as mine would. I shake my head finally, entirely too late for normal interaction. 

"Oh, I caught a bit of your performance earlier, you're very impressive!" I blab with a nervous smile. She smiles back, arguably much brighter than my own. The man running the counter slides her a drink, and she glances at me. "Wanna buy me a drink?" She says this while going for a pouch hanging at her side onto the beaded bands on her waist. Before she can fish out anything, I've already gotten my coin ready. I slide it to the man and nod. With a chuckle, she signals me to follow her with a free hand and a drink in the other. I am led into a different room behind the curtains and led out to a different side of the building. 

She walks down an unfamiliar part of town and I have little choice but to follow. There weren't as many people to push through, in fact, there were hardly any people at all. She finally looks back at me, "You know, you didn't have to do that." 

"It isn't an inconvenience by any means, I enjoyed what I saw of your performance. I figured I should let you know." I say to her. We eventually stop at the end of a wide alley and sit on an old bench. Her skirt rides up her round thighs as she crosses her legs when we sat down. Without any tarps over the alley, it was just as bright out as the main street. The sun provided a great contrast on her skin, adding a shine to her skin in the light. I now envied her bare legs as I wore my continuously heating full-length pants. I wipe the sweat from my brow as subtly as possible. She must have noticed this and offered me a drink. I take the bottle, cool condensation wetting my hand. 

It was an underlining sour fruit flavor that had been neutralized with a sweetener of some kind. It was overall refreshing and enough to put me in a better mood and ease my nerves. "Come on," she says, gesturing me up as she stands. 

The end of the alley holds a short set of stairs leading to a large door. I reluctantly follow her, unsure of where exactly we were heading. She pushes open the door, leading us inside.

 I immediately recognize the space as a library. Though this area was more space efficient and guest friendly with lofts to access higher literature on walls, there were still books lined edge to edge of the vast room. "A library?" I ask, obviously hoping for more reasoning than confirmation.

"Yeah, I work here. I figured you could at least walk me here, safer that way." She lets out. We continue inside, taking a few steps into a conversation pit embedded into the sandstone floor. 

A lump forms in my throat, "Why is there such a heavy need for safety?" I pry, bracing a hand on the counter now between us. I watched her fetching a stack of folded clothes from beneath the counter. A fitting dark vest, including a silver pin on one side of her chest as well as a dark, fairly sheer knee-length skirt.

Such a climate seemed to allow for much less formal dress, I concluded. I didn’t mind, and people didn’t acknowledge it as much as I thought they would. For a moment I had to be reminded of the heat, a rare occurrence so far. The library was fairly cool inside, strangely enough.

"I couldn't tell you're new here at first, for the record. Your clothes seem normal, so I'll give you points for your adaptation skills, but I was suspicious when you thanked me for my performance. Then my hunch was solidified as soon as you paid for my drink. You're very formal." She tells me. 

"That doesn't answer my question," I let out.

"Well, I get why you wouldn't know, is what I'm saying. Braiewood isn't the same as it was years ago. We've had a bit of an economic crumble for a collection of reasons. With that being said, it didn't exactly help the city's crime rates"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware." 

"It's alright, you got lucky, I'm one of the few people who won't look at you like you're a barbarian for not knowing. Can't expect tourists to know when tourists haven't been around since all the changes." she shrugs.

I wait for her to continue, but she shakes her head as she steps behind a rounded counter. "We're in a library, you want information look around. I'm not an economist." 

"Fair enough, care to point me to an elven history book? Preferably about the apparent deterioration of Braiewood. Shockingly the fluctuation of the elven economy isn't a huge seller in Asterian bookstores." I laugh out to her, putting my elbow on the table and shifting my weight onto it. I am genuinely curious about this, and I wonder if I’ll be able to discuss this issue at home once this all blows over.

In a sad discovery, I was met with a look of confusion over a chuckle. She runs her hand to my cheek, brushing my neck with her soft fingertips. I stare at her face now much closer to mine. I straighten my posture, but this led to her leaning further over the counter. Her mouth was left slightly agape and her full lips pursed into a pout as her brows furrowed. She pushed my hair behind my ears and her jaw dropped. Her eyes widened for a moment, her head seems to shake away a thought. 

"Yes?" I ask.

"Um, I'll lead you to the history section. Just a moment." She takes me to a certain shelf and hands me a book with a faded yellow spine. This unexpected tension tightens my demeanor and I do my best to get things back on track. 

"Do I need to pay or sign the book out?" I say as we walk back to her counter.

"Well, I'll consider waiving your fee for borrowing a book without having any identification since you bought me a drink. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you don't have a Braiewood sign of residence?" 

"You caught me, alright. I told you I'm not from around here."

"Well, as long as I can get your name in case you want something from here again. You've got a name, right?" She says, hunching over a gridded paper.

"Elaine," I say.

She glances up from her sheet, expecting more.

"Thauma." I continue.

She scoffs, shaking her head as she jots it down. "Are your parents fans of traditional names too? Or just have a really bad alias?" 

I shoot her a confused look. 

"My name is Arani," she clarifies.

My confusion is momentarily dismissed as I remember that this is in homage to Azulah Arani, one of the more known and respected past Elven representatives. She's clearly under the impression that I am someone named after myself. A name popularized because of its presence in nobility, leaving me with a legacy to live up to before I have the chance to claim my name as my own. 

"Nonetheless, Elaine, I'll lend you the book free of charge. Just make sure you set aside some time to return it. Maybe even consider grabbing another book, you'd get into the readers' hall of fame pretty quick." She laughs. 

"Not many interested in the cultural classics anymore?" I ask.

"Nah, change in curriculum beats the information into kids without leaving any room for a want to research on their own. That's how my younger sister puts it." 

"I see, I guess leadership doubled down on the education to attempt to prevent future mishaps?" I consider.

"You're not too far off, you sure you need that textbook after all?" Arani says.

"You'll have to pry this book from my cold, dead, educated hands." I laugh, packing it into my bag.

I find myself leaning back onto the countertop and chatting with Arani more about education, finding out she just got out of short secondary education. We were around the same age, her being only a little older than myself. She asks me about Asterian schooling and we compare our education systems. "Clearly you were taught well enough you wanted to seek more education," I say, gesturing toward the library shelves behind me.

"Maybe I wasn't taught enough at all and needed to take matters into my own hands," she jokes. 

"Seems like you're the only one who feels that way," I tell her, staring at all the empty seats scattered around the room. 

"Yeah, but what can you do? It's hard to convince people to learn when they think they know everything. Plus, if people actually wanted books I'd have to work more," Arani says, "I'm pretty content with getting paid to perform and then read books and dust all day."

"Oh yeah, you work two jobs with performing and the library. Is that normal?" I ask.

"Pretty normal yeah, most people don't care as long as they enjoy what they do. That's why you still see a few people selling original works in the market when they're aren't exactly a ton of tourists," she explains. 

I nod and would have continued chatting if it weren't for a wave of light entering the room. A creak at the doors reveals the first visitors in the library since I'd entered. This cues my leave, and I attempt to wrap up my and Arani's conversation before they come to the counter. 

"This was nice, it's not often that I get to talk to other people my age around here. Not many are as diverse, you could say, in their interests." She smiles.

"Of course, thank you for the information and kind introduction to the library. I'll get back to you once I've finished this."

She waves me goodbye and I head back into the city, now close to nightfall. If I wanted to blend in I'd have to keep my head down. Apparently, I stick out quite a bit when I gawk at everything in town and attempt to make small talk. Now that I thought about it, no one in the crowd even attempted to talk to me, and hardly talked to one another. The public was much more reserved than it was in Asteria. 

I trace my path back to the way I'd entered the city. It was nearing time to leave if I wanted to get back to the tavern barely before sunset. I begin to pick at the food that I'd now been saving for a couple of hours through no choice of my own. This makes my walk more entertaining, but most certainly a bit slower. I finish my food and place the now empty box in my bag to throw away once I arrive at the settlement.

Since my walk time estimate was delayed from my meal it grew dark before I arrived in town. I could see the tavern lights in the distance, though admittedly only because of how flat the terrain was. I trekked on, now more so following the lights of the tavern from afar rather than the beaten path in the darkness.

Soon, the darkness swallowed all signs of the ground once beneath my feet, let alone a path to follow, no longer allowing moonlight to penetrate the darkness. I continue using the slowly growing lights as my only guide. The cold set in quickly, shifting from a hot sunny day to a chilly dark night in only minutes. 

This wasn't a problem until the all light was eaten away by the night. It wasn't possible that Kenrik snuffed every lamp in the tavern yet tonight, especially in the common room. I stop, taking a few steps back. The lights reemerge. 

"What?" I mutter. With this, the silence of the desert breaks. A strange sound reminiscent of wind fills my ears. Maybe I'd blinked without realizing it, causing the only thing in my vision to flicker out of existence. 

Then, the air became warm. Within a couple steps the lights cut once more.  I take a moment to ensure the influx of heat wasn't imaginary or something simple like my hot breath hitting my cold skin. No. This was heat. This was wind. This was darkness. Such a strange flip from everything just a few steps prior. I take a couple more steps.

Something hits my stretched-out hand. The palm of my hand was greeted with something soft and warm. I shift my fingers, feeling tufts of something between them. I pull lightly. The sound of the wind stops.

Just for a moment, something permeates the darkness beyond me. Two large, round rings of a pale yellow light set into my vision. Just as quickly as they flashed into existence, they disappear once more.

 The dry, wispy texture beneath my fingers drags upward,  and my hand is met with something now wet and hot. A white glint shows the curved outline of teeth in the night. My heart races as my brain strikes a similar experience. The canine creatures I first met in the desert, faijugh. 

I didn't have time to waste, I skidded far over to my left until the lights came back into view. Its large black body was obstructing my view. I run, beginning to feel something sickening bubble up. I swallow what rises in my throat that was attempting to make its way out of my stomach. I put everything into my foot placement. Even a small stone could throw me to the ground and leave me as dog food.

A mix of my heartbeat and panting now drowned out every outside sound, I couldn't even tell if I was actually being chased. The lights in my vision were now huge and I could see the porch of the tavern. The only noise was the difference in sound from the stiff sand-like soil of the desert to the solid thump of my feet on concrete. I shove the doors open and thrust myself into my room. A loud thud shakes the tavern. This is followed by a series of scratches against the wood floor. I take a peak outside my room.

The black canine had attempted to force its body into the doorway, getting stuck in the doorframe and having to scratch its way out. A series of gasps emanates from the main room. One of which I note as Kenriks. He makes his way to the doorway. I couldn't let this elderly man attempt to get this monster out himself. I barge out of my room, "Kenrik! I'm sorry I-" 

"Sorry? You're sorry?" He says loudly above the continuing scratches. I attempt to pull him back from the animal. He turns and looks at me with tears in his eyes. My stomach knots. The canine finally molds and compresses its large body and a thick coat of fur through the door. It makes its way toward Kenrik. 

I see him tackled to the ground, a large paw pressing into one of Kenrik's shoulders. The Faijugh's face grew closer to his, its nostrils flaring as it sniffed him profusely. I attempt to throw myself at the beast in a final moment of desperation. I wait with my eyes squinted shut. Nothing, not an ounce of pain. I look down, unearthing my face from a mass of fur. 

Kenrik was being licked and laughing from such. "Elaine, thank you!" He manages between breaths. I pry myself off the animal and take a step back. 

"Elaine, you found Kyzu! How can I ever make it up to you?" he says. 

I draw a breath in, "That's Kyzu? That thing is gigantic and monstrous!" the way that Kenrik described Kyzu as a protective and loving dog, yet this was the farthest thing I'd imagine from that. Oversized, provoking, and vicious was the thing in front of me. A sense of dizziness had wriggled its way into me. My vision begins to sway, though I futilely try to steady myself. 

My heart rate hadn't acknowledged the lack of danger in the new setting, and my chest felt tight from such intense running so far. My throat felt raw from the cold dry air. I sucked a rickety breath in, it breaks itself up upon exhaling. I take a shaky step forward toward Kyzu, holding a deep sense of uncertainty in my mind. The dog doesn't seem to care about or even notice me anymore. Kyzu adjusts herself to allow Kenrik to get up. The faijugh mix lets out a sigh, pacing around the floor and letting out creaks along the way. She settles down beside Kenrik's chair, laying on the floor with a huff, her large body taking up considerable space in the common area.

Stepping over to her, I stand above this black shiny mass. I kneel down, taking a deep breath before feeling its long, straw-like fur. I swipe my hand up and down, watching the fur sway back and forth, the tufts of hair shining in the bright lantern light. Kyzu's chest rose and fell with every slow breath. I watch as her eyes fight sleep with each jolt awake before finally remaining shut. 

It is just a big puppy. She now seemed so helpless, finally being able to rest after reuniting with her owner. It looks like under the voluminous fur there could be a bit of hunger residing, though it was hard to tell if she was truly underweight. Cracked, dry skin peeling on her nose and lips as well as her paw pads being so distressed that they were now jagged and rough to the touch. A seed of pity roots its way into my heart. I will also note the acknowledgment of a tinge of shame for both being afraid of such a seemingly timid creature and being wrong about its violent instincts. 

I watch a sort of peace show its place in Kenrik's eyes, a new calmness to them. He sits at his chair under a lantern and pets Kyzu's head as they both rest. Almost all of which that were concerned about Kyzu no longer stared, an almost incredulous amount of trust in a bartender as a guest. I suppose this shows something special about the tavern, at the very least. 

I let out a sigh, trying my best to place as much faith in Kenrik as the customers do. The feeling of danger is a hard one to immediately shake, though. Sitting at the counter seems like a good place to be since I wasn't ready to shut myself into my room yet. I take a peak into the kitchen, no staff. Not that it mattered, since I'm sure Kenrik wouldn't mind me pouring my own drink. I fill my glass with a berry mead and ice. Corking the slim bottle, I put it back onto the shelf and sip at my drink for a bit.

My ice now long melted, I slosh the watery remnant of my drink around my glass. The color was less pigmented and now almost transparent. I roll my shoulders, feeling much more relaxed. I get up, taking my glass behind the counter and into the kitchen to wash. I rinse it out and dry it with a new rag, returning behind the bar to set my glass with the others. 

From behind the counter, I could see that the tavern was now dimmer, with a few of the lamps throughout the dining hall having gone out at this point. All dining patrons had retired to their rooms, tables cleaned, and the tavern quiet. By this point, even Kenrik had gone down into his room and settled into bed for the night. 

As I set my glass on the shelf with the others, the doors open. I stand up from behind the counter after the creak emanates through the room. Val and I make eye contact; well, as much eye contact as you can make through a helm. He settles down on a stool at the bar, just a seat away from where I'd sat before washing my glass. He seemed a bit surprised, straightening his posture upon realizing it was me. "Elaine, are you the bartender for tonight?" he asked.

"I can be if needed, I don't mind too much if you only need a couple drinks. I just don't exactly want to get caught up working," I explain.

He responds with a nod, "Two glasses of whiskey, then," holding up two of his fingers as he speaks.

I pour him his drinks, putting more effort in than I would for my own, even making sure the ice amount was about the same in either glass. After putting away the whiskey bottle I take a seat on a stool just beside me, still sitting across from Val.

I caught myself on numerous occasions trying to sneak glances under his helm when he took a drink. I was already naturally a bit lower than him as we sat, it felt strangely tempting to be sitting right across from him. I would always avert my eyes after, making it all the more obvious when I'd done so.

"It's awfully late, don't have anywhere to be tomorrow I take it?" I ask, trying to make small talk.

"Actually, I'm heading Northeast for business. I've just had a long day," Val sighs out.

"I can't imagine what a long day must look like for you, I feel exhausted just from an excursion to Braiewood today." I chuckle, seeing him soften his tense stature.

"You must have walked there, right? It’s a ways away, I take it you had Hidorah escort you?" Val asks, putting his head down. I see him go for his second drink, and in a moment I make the decision to drop a rag off the counter, giving me the chance to duck down to grab it. 

"Oh, no. Hidorah didn't work today either but I left after he did, so I walked alone." I don't break contact while kneeling to pick it up. I could see the underside of his throat; a darker complexion, though I'm unsure whether this was the lighting, with a shininess giving the indication of stubble on a wide, defined jawline leading down to a large Adam's apple. I see his throat force downward with a swallow, I do the same out of instinct. 

"Oh, alright then..." He says, waiting a moment to press on, "I hope you didn't run into any trouble. I've heard mixed things about Braiewood." 

"You've never been? I figured you would have by now," I say.

"No, just haven't gotten the chance to yet I guess," Val says dryly. 

I take a moment before responding. Some people are easier to talk to than others, it is embarrassing finding myself with nothing to say in conversation. "Well, it's late. I think I should head to bed, I work tomorrow after all," I tell him with a smile. I get up to leave, collecting the coin he'd set on the counter at some point and putting it in the drawer.

"Goodnight, Elaine." He says, almost coldly. 

I squint my eyes hard, sucking in a breath as he says it. I nod, returning to my room for the night. 

[catanddragons]

So I did finally finish A Discovery of Witches the other day (I say finally as if it took me more than like a week and a half to read it lol).

Final thoughts!

The book was way, WAY too long. It could have easily been half the length, at least, without losing any of the plot points.

There was way too much time spent on character backstory infodumps to rival ye olde deviant art character background sheets from 2012. Too much time spent on the minute to minute of nearly every single day from September 21 until October 31. That sounds like an exaggeration but I swear to you it is not. Do you have any idea how many times I had to read about Diana scarfing down her sixth helping of eggs and toast? Too many.

There were enough interesting characters and ideas for the plot that I was at least able to put up with the meandering, but I’ll wholeheartedly admit that any time it dove into a characters backstory that didn’t have anything to do with the current situation, I’d skip it. You know what I missed? Literally nothing.

I’m sure plenty of people who don’t care for the book will whine and moan about Diana being the Extra Special Super Powerful witch with All the Magic and blah blah blah but I do not care. She’s the main character of a paranormal romance book OBVIOUSLY she’s gonna be special. That’s like. Kinda how most main characters go. Even if they’re not Magical special, they’re usually some kind of remarkable relative to those around them. Otherwise nothing interesting would happen, or they’d be a damsel in distress type that things just kind of happen to. But people would complain about that because you literally can’t make everyone happy.

But enough of that tangent - Diana spent most of the book being intentionally dense and frustrating. And when she did anything interesting it was almost always for the sake of Matthew, rather than having too much in the way of her own goals. She started the book with goals and ambitions and it felt like those just kind of got abandoned like…a third of the way though the book.

I don’t hate Matthew but he is very Edward-ish. The people around him seem more like able than he is, particularly Ysabeau and Marthe. I didn’t like Diana’s aunt Sarah at first, but she grew on me eventually. Bonus points that she’s played by Alex Kingston in the show, and I like her as River Song in Doctor Who, so. You know. Bias.

Anyway, point is the book drags. I’m interested enough in the characters and general plot that I am curious to see what happens next, but I don’t know that I’ll read the next book, at least not as a physical/ebook. Might listen to the audiobook ? Might just watch the show. Who knows!

Of course if I do read/listen to the book, I’ll feel obligated to post about it again. That ridiculous thread was the most fun thing about reading this book.

[lostwcnderlands]

amusement twinkled in hazel eyes as valentine let the silk twist around his body like an extension of himself. since first seeing her show, he'd wanted her for himself. to trap within the soul bind of he dark circus, and watch her fall like him deep into the dark.

and yet, as with all beautiful things, one had to be careful in how hard they could push. belle was everything you'd imagine her to be, as stubborn as hell, too. valentine knew better than to drag her towards anything, had to let her come on her own. it was a slow process, showing her the magic of his world little by little. not quite dead but not quite alive - not quite free but not captive.

there was whimsy to be found in the carnival, and he wanted belle to weave in through the strands, become part of the fabric of time. yet, valentine always knew - he could be forced to say goodbye. she could say no, she could never decide to come && sacrifice her soul, to be eternally by his side...

but belle stood here, tonight, looking ready, sounding eager. coming closer, and valentine faded through the translucent silks, twisting about them to conceal himself to take a breath. when he emerged from the purple && pinks, a smile had surfaced upon his face. part of him felt horrible, like a wretched man; but he'd sold his soul a hundred years ago, so... what would anyone expect? " i am happy. " he promised, holding onto the scarf as he leaned in close, head tilting as he looked at her. " don't you know how long i've waited for this day? "

his foot was wrapped tight in the fabric, and valentine swept out an arm, grabbed her waist && pulling her to him tight. a yank of his wrist, and up they went, into the air and towards the rafters, encased in the silk scarves and flying in a semicircle around the tent. another heart attack in the making, but the illusionist couldn't help it. valentine laughed as they soared, until letting their feet touch down on the ground again. " i just thought i should warn you, too. so you can't blame me later if your wish coming true isn't what you'd expected. you'll be selling your soul... you know. " this, he said playfully, voice going spooky in a comical way, waggling his fingers in her face && giving another breathless laugh.

the voice from above calling down to her froze her in her tracks. it had come to be familiar to her over the last couple of months she had spent with the carnival, easily fitting her act into part of the freak show. " valentine, " she hisses his name under her breath, her bare shoulders pulling up as she huffs and tosses her long, dark hair over her shoulder. " y'wanna give me a heart attack ? " femme hollers back as he descends in front of her, her footfalls slow as she makes her way towards him and can't help but notice the way darkness climbs up the walls of the tent, licking up them like abyssal flames.

" i'm too pretty to die, " a teasing pout tugs at her full lesser lip, though she can't deny the chills that prickle at the back of her neck as he looks her over. her arms fold across her middle loosely, her head tilting as she searches his face through muddy brown eyes. her gaze is inquisitive, a brow lifting as he surmised something accurate and it makes her smirk with amusement. he was right that she wouldn't listen .. or at least that that was the most likely outcome.

she'd always been a loner, independent at first by force and then by choice. she hardly ever entered herself into the affairs of others and far preferred to keep to herself whenever possible. it the short time she'd known him belle had grown fascinated with the man, swept up all too easily into his orbit and more than content to stay there. so much so that it had given her the last push she'd needed to bring forth her wish and speak it into existence before the ringmaster. " what ? " she stalks closer to him, her eyes burning with intensity as he tells her she should run.

" i thought you would be happy, " despite her best efforts to conceal it she knows the disappointment in her voice is clear and her cheeks grow hot quickly. " you wanted me here .. didn't you ? what changed, val ? " her slender hands clasp gently at her sides, holding herself, her expression calm but expectant.