#he enjoyed learning about dark magic as it was interesting to understand why certain practices are no longer used

[fouralignments]

No. 22, 35, 53, & 55

Sorry if that's too many at a time. I just love seeing what direction people’s minds go when they write and how often they step out of their comfort zone.

Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

I will never ever EVER write in second person aka self-insert, character x reader. For me it breaks my immersion in a text. Its a pov that really hard to get right. First person also very hard to get right, I only read first person when its a professional author like The Great Gatsby; The Handmaid’s Tale, The Kite Runner or Dumplin by' Julie Murphy.

Magical healing Cock: as an asexual practically offensive and dangerous; its a step along the path and "justification" for corrective rape against the community. Its very preastive in the public consincsuness. I know it may seem that I did this trope in Morning Light, Charles did a lot of things to help heal both Erik and Pietro; Yes Charles is sexual with Erik, but its not the only thing and isn't a cure all.

Zombies: I do not like the sub-genre, I cannot understand FUCKING WHY The Walking Dead of all things become such a cultural phenomenon; just speaking about The Walking Dead plus Game of Thrones shifted the TV landscape into a darker almost grimdark direction. Personally I don't like grimdark, hopeless shows. I don't mind darkness, not every fucking show needs to be.

What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain? 

There are many acceptations to the rules and depending on what type of villain ranging anywhere from your Disney villains, evil empires, magnificent bastards, and rivals. But anyway, I keep in mind what the villain's motives and worldviews are. I'm not saying you have to agree with the baddie, but don't strawman.

This is something that I learned from Trek, particularly bad Trek message episodes *COUGH* TNG's The Neutral Zone *COUGH* ST: Insurrection. Sorry...must have got a frog in my throat.

The motives and worldview shapes their actions/goals and the audience should understand Why they are doing something and should be able to follow their train of thought when they decide to something different.

How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

My creativity comes and goes and spikes; its effected by mood and weather; so it make my writing uneven. Like I actually have to feel up to writing. Sometimes I have long dry spells.

But would say I'm more like 70/30; I read a shit ton and write every so often. It doesn't mean I'm not thinking about writing, but sometimes I have to go like this:

Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

I really enjoy writing for young adult! Erik and kid! Pietro, they have such a lovely dynamic. I do have to admit that I'm still not used to writing teenage/young adult Peter, I don't feel like I capture enough of the pop culture and Pink Floyd references; I do feel like I write him out of character sometimes.

However, with my novel writing of My Son Comes Back To Me, I was genuinely shocked of how Sabah Nur was received as a villain, some of my readers don't consider to be a villain. I do enjoy writing his character as I have ton of freedom with it and its very interesting writing an immortal character; his cultural references are different; how he views the world; an older sense of honor; I took refence from B5's Lorien; Leto from Dune. He's a very different character to write to convey just how old he is like I actively look and search archaic words that have fallen out of the lexicon, even try to find older writing because their sentence structure and the cadence Sabah Nur speaks with. Sorry if I can't stop talking about him.

[betraeyer]

𝐐.    REGULUS AND HIS KNOWLEDGE OF DARK ARTEFACTS AND MAGIC? 

BASICS.

i’ve gone over this a few times simply because it’s one of my favourite pieces of my portrayal. in my mind, the house of black are in possession of some truly fascinating dark artefacts, charms and potions. in my portrayal of orion (zvedza), i have it written that though members of the house of black rarely reduce themselves to menial work, they do have hobbies; orion’s, like some of his ancestors, is to collect dark artefacts and surround himself with an outstanding knowledge and understanding of dark magic.

i headcanon that the house of black were, at some point also in possession of the resurrection stone, one of the three deathly hallows. they parted with it as it caused a chain of events similar to its origin story; they almost pawned it off one of the linked families in a bid to rid themselves of it.

REGULUS’ KNOWLEDGE.

growing up in 12 grimmauld place, regulus is surrounded by numerous dark magical artefacts in his father’s possession. some include,

a diary that causes you to forget that which you write

a portrait on the second landing that will swallow you if you get too close. it has a sister portrait that seems to have been constantly on the move since 1964, bellatrix once fell for its charm as a young girl and ended up quite far from home

a mirror in an upstairs bathroom that mimics the host of the reflection and learns patterns of behaviour. get too close and one will find themselves in possession of less than half of their conscious mind

a boggart in the attic. regulus has faced it a total of three times, within 12 grimmauld place. each time it has taken a different shape

enchanted music box, the eye of a mad wizard that still seems to blink and move, various books and writings containing spells made to incapacitate, wound and kill.

it’s likely that regulus would have an extended knowledge of many of these artefacts, especially during the years 1971-1978, when sirius’ presence in the house was absent and regulus spent the majority of his time in his father’s study, where he was to remain to ensure that regulus did not also stray from the family.

regardless of his upbringing and the magical objects that litter his home, regulus had a fascination for dark magic and dark magical objects that was entirely his own. at hogwarts he had an affinity for defence against the dark arts, and it was labelled one of his high interest classes; it was something he was particularly skilled in, given his prior knowledge and exceptional magical ability.

regulus would, then, have learned about horcruxes either directly from his father, or from one of his many books and parchments in his study. in my portrayal, this is how regulus came to understand that the task of stealing and destroying the horcrux was his task. having already been disillusioned by the dark lord’s ideals some time in 1978-1979, learning that he had split his soul and created the inevitability of his return, or the likelihood of immortality proved to him that the dark lord would not keep his promises; that his ideals to create a world built from pureblood dominance could never have truly been his aim.

[tofumedic]

Brothers + Diavolo w/ a selectively mute GN!MC

summary: how well the brothers would be able to deal with you being selectively mute and how they respond to you talking to them !

Lucifer

Other than Diavolo, he may be the only one to know beforehand as helping in the organization of the RAD program, however it may only be overlooked if it is not present in any kind of record like schooling or medical.

When you first come into Devildom, your D.D.D. may be used as a sort of translation object between you and those present.

He is a little peeved in the beginning before you are able to explain it, he would regain his calm but would see it as a small setback to how he expected orientation to go.

Other than that he quickly learns about you and how you work so that he can work with you while trying not to dote on you!

The one that would gift you small portable whiteboards and markers if you had a preference over it for typing, professional though only dark blue and black inked markers <//3

Your first words to him are probably about answering a question or a summons, he does a lot of both but don't call him out for being clingy okay

Anyways

If this man is standing or getting up to greet you expect him to stumble, just slightly catching himself on the edge of his office desk or resting a hand against the wall

When he meets your eyes you can see there's a pinch of panic of "you did not just see that please tell no one" that melts back into "oh my god???????"

He's quick to relax back into what he wanted to talk to you about, not wanting you too feel anxious or guilty for however long it took for you guys to have a mutual trust and safety net.

For the rest of the day his face remains in this pleasant smile and everyone except Asmo and Beel are suspicious, Mammon being especially on edge.

If they call him out on what has him so happy today he will brush them off for being nosy about what isn't their worries but the small blush that rises to his face as he crosses his arms does not help his case.

Mammon

He is all of your noise

He gets forgetful and will try to have conversations across the house by yelling at you only to barge into your room in his petty fake anger just to see your face either amused at him or completely deadpan and he just ....🧍‍♂️

He gets anxious about leaving anywhere without his D.D.D. now what if his human needs him while he's not "bothering" you

Takes extreme pride in helping you order food when you go out places whether with his brothers or just alone, he loves it. Not only does he get an excuse to sit by your side and lean into your shoulder to see what menu item you're pointing at but it means he also has less worry about, he likes being close by to help you just in general.

Your first words are probably involving some drama he was mourning over earlier that day, probably with Lucifer or being the butt of the joke with another brother.

If Lucifer would stumble, expect this man to fully fall. God forbid you two are walking down the stairs instead of him rolling off the edge of your bed or just plopping on the carpet.

He would be so excited, his cheeks are burning even though you may have not even complimented him those words are gonna be ingrained to his memory maybe even written down in his notes app.

But he will downplay how happy he is that out of all of them he was the first you talked to, because of course it would be him the great Mammon and your first man it just made sense.

He's over the moon he won't flex it unless you start being verbal with more of his brothers he doesn't want them to pressure you into speaking no matter how much the urge bubbles up while Asmo is talking about how you would rather match outfits with him that others

Leviathan

He doesn't mind that much, at the beginning of your relationship he is very shy and doesn't really start talking unless something reminded him of one of his shows or games

Will gain a habit of just texting you instead of asking you a question outloud, just because he thinks its more polite and understands as in sometimes it's too much energy to open his mouth to speak

Teaches you phrases from his games, basically call outs, as an extra layer of code to let you know if you're camping out in his room that he is gonna leave for a package (going to spawn camp) or food (healing) etc

He does get jealous saying it's unfair about Mammon helping you order stuff in the "irl" while absolutely being too nervous to do it for himself as well

You two have your own codes for entering each others room, knocking to the tune of a popular sound effect from a game you play together for the ease but he enjoys when you try to do the beginning of an ost or girl group song and he tries to guess it

Your first words for him are probably you entering his room with some snacks or having picked up a package for him from his door, his response to you entering would be asking you to hold on this match or episode was almost done

So when you give out hum and either let him know you're staying or you're signing off (leaving) it's an insta-death, his attention is caught so fast

His posture extremely straight from his hunched focus as he speedquits his match closing every tab back to desktop before standing up on his wobbly legs and giving you the most affection he can handle of having that without warning

He gives you a small headbutt, pushing his forehead into your shoulder as he controls his breathing. He can't handle it that's like finale love interest marrying the protag and you hit him with it so lightly.

He wouldn't change his preference of texting you questions as it's something he's still comfortable with and you speaking to him makes him feel like he's reached masters rank without losing any matches

Satan

He is your best bet for knowing sign language, he finds it interesting that there are so many regional variations has tucked his knowledge of them into his big ol head

His movements would be hesitant as he's mentally dusting off the memory of practice but he is very good at it, though he wouldn't be more than only a pinch disappointed if you didn't prefer that way.

He be more interested in you in the beginning before learning about your magical presence and the pact hunt, it's unusual to him and he likes the study

Picks up small things that are unnoticeable to everyone but you about small habits and things that barely make it easier, like remembering to rebuke Mammon when he goes to order but forgets you don't like a certain ingredient and asks for it to be removed himself.

Would ask if you would like to learn Devildom's concept of sign language, maybe just quick easy signs for going about RAD tasks and classes

Your first words are probably said to him in the safety of his study, surrounded by books or even your homework while he reads

MC i love you very much but i feel like it would be something really stupid or cursed along the lines of

"I'm tired of people making Frankenstein's creature ugly he's literally written to be sexy" or "Why are people so attracted to Dracula he's supposed to ugly af >:/"

He would be.. very nonchalant about the fact it was you speaking to him and acting like he was talking to one of his brothers and going against you in the argument until he picks up those books to prove his side to be like "oh."

He needs a moment after such a not so public embarrassment so it would be later while you're both laying in your respective rooms and he's going over it in his head and then it hits him. It also hits that it was perhaps the most unromantic way it could have gone but it makes him smile into his pillow.

He has it as a secret weapon against Lucifer but he likes knowing something his brother doesn't

He can't look at you for too long the next day but will use the two figures of your mock argument to lightly bully you being soft on you in the comfort he wanted you to know was returned

"In case of argument, you would make a very good creation made in such a pleasing image"

Asmodeus

He is willing to fill up space for conversations for you also, he has a lot to say but will still ask you questions and for your input so you're included

He thinks the whiteboard concept is very cute! He would be the one to get you little accessories like a bag just for that and your markers or a strap for it. He would also be the one to get you more marker colors, you having just black and dark blue is unforgivable

Enjoys asking you how you're feeling, in a way that's easier if you didn't want to write or type it all out is giving him a number between 1-10. 10 is for your absolute worst like if you are having a day that you can't get out of bed or 1 where you're feeling really good like nothing can hurt you.

Doesn't force you to go out and party with him in case it's bad for your nerves or there's a worry demons will rude about "their advances being ignored."

Likes being close to you, so you can write in a notes app or use some other alternative other than texting where he might not see it getting buried by other messages.

Asmo would enjoy either holding hands or wrapping his arm around yours of your non dominant side, he makes good by staying on that side when he's going for affection or just to be in your bubble.

You talking to him for the first time would probably being during an outfit review or ordering new face masks off of Akuzon.

And he would melt, pelting you with kisses smothering every empty inch of your forehead, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose he's so happy

Whatever you were doing or looking at becomes his favorite, a fit he wears when he feels down to keep him happy, or using a specific brand of nail polish or face mask specifically due to the memory

Would find any lisp or rasp overwhelmingly adorable, of course it fits his angel you sound undeniably perfect. Loves how conversations sound with your two voices mixing together.

Beelzebub

He wouldn't completely understand but he isn't rude about it, his actions remaining normal to how he usually acts

If you wanted to learn their version of sign language he would try with you no matter if it was a struggle to fit into his schedule between the gym and spending time with Belphie and RAD and anything else but wouldn't want you to do it alone

He would keep you safe from anyone who had a problem with it, he's used to Belphie not wanting to talk to people other than him so he would be able to handle it especially if you two had similar gestures you used

Beel is also quite quiet in his own other from rumblings or dislike about being yelled at, he's good at still talking and holding his ground in arguments too but affection with him would be extra quiet compared to extra brothers

Your silence other than shuffles or small laughs, it's comforting like a sense of calm. It makes him think of your human dream catchers always quiet yet supposedly helpful and healing

You may verbally ask for a treat or some of his snack he brought for you two instead of a small gesture if your arms are trapped in the cuddle position you've been stuck in and any food he was eating would pause. Giving him a second he would easily give you all that was left

"Not hungry anymore" he would say his eyes warm before closing with his warm smile, he melts more into you like a jacket to let you feel how warm his heart was.

You were always special even if as an agent of chaos with some of the phrases you would drop, and he would adopt into his vocabulary and even further speaking for you in situations you couldn't

Belphegor

Belphie when you first met would give you a different gaze, in a slight squint almost breaking his image of being a helpless human but he would override it, continuing on like normal

At the beginning he may have even less belief in you getting pacts with his brothers but you still prove you're capable and things are normal for how he would treat you, not really changing just like Beel.

For a man (demon) to say actions are stronger than words, he certainly strains his ears just in case you answer his question in that way not that you would know and i certainly did not let you know ok??? cool cool

Other than that he really doesn't mind!!! You and Beel are really his top two people he has interest in being with and you being mute wouldn't change anything ! He may seek you more for naps outside of his room or the attic you don't move as much as Beel does as long as he doesn't curl up over your arms

In the privacy of one of your rooms- whether Asmo and Mammon are out on the town or in his while Beel is at the gym or somewhere else- is your first words spoken as softly as you can to him

Him laying across you with his head resting with his mouth close to your collarbone and ear resting almost on your neck he can feel the vibration in your vocal cords, you were probably asking him to move

Which you probably thought he was doing but any movement was so he could be closer to that feeling of your words if you spoke again, his knees tucking up while his toes curl

You wouldn't be able to fully process just how important that action was to him, you trusted him and felt safe and could let words out to him, after everything that was real forgiveness.

Diavolo

Him just looking over and encouraging you being chosen by Lucifer, he probably would not know unless again it was strongly present in your transcripts

He would find it interesting, it was your first surprise to him and filled him with mirth at the concept of seeing Lucifer tense in confusion his feathers absolutely ruffled

Though while you were already human which meant your interactions were sure to be interesting to him, the way you interacted was also completely different from Solomon, he would love giving you his time no matter how Barbatos would sigh already seeing it before it went into motion

It may mean a little extra work for Lucifer but he wouldn't complain he did a good job picking you for Diavolo to enjoy your company so much even if he was slightly worried on your influence on him

For doting only predict help with fixing the RAD program and making your class experience more accessible, if he tries to help too much someone would certainly have a word with him

He's known being compassionate, he just wants it to be easy for you as it is probably hard enough on you between the brothers, school, and being selectively mute

He barely uses his D.D.D. but if you prefer using that it's no problem though do give him awhile to type out his long messaged questions instead of asking them on call

First words with him may be said on a trip out to explore or in his castle during a private moment in the retreat or in his office

No matter the context it would be a mood booster, he would compliment you you're voice is perfect to him it matches the image you've shown so far

It's a delight, you never fail to surprise him he may repeat your words in his own voice laugh resting on his breath. He'd ask you to stay a little longer if he can get away with it, and if he can't he surely will try

[autumnslance]

I've got a writing question that's been on my mind for a while: how do you keep your OCs from becoming self inserts? Every time I think of developing an OC I realize that it's attributes that I

Oops, you got cut off! But in general: all your OCs are going to have traits of yours; it’s inevitable. Sometimes big things, sometimes small things. It’s how we relate to them, and also just natural, I promise. We write what we know, and we know how we interact with ourselves and the world.

But there is a difference between sharing some traits with a character and making them a self-insert. It’s letting their life, their community and culture, their experiences, also influence their traits and thinking, in ways that might be different from how you would respond in a similar situation. Even if you share those attributes.

This is me so let’s go behind a cut shall we?

Dark Autumn is as introverted and solitary by nature as I am; she can and does interact in professional and friendly ways with people (as I try to do), but needs alone time to recharge. However, Dark also has a very different outlook and relationship with her family than I, since her family is large and supportive, very close knit. If family is a lottery, I got the $50 scratch off prize while she hit the Mega-Millions. So I take that into account when thinking of her relationships not just with family, but with friends and potential romantic interests; Dark sees things through a lens of positive, low-drama familial relationships that I can barely fathom. This also means she has a support network and resources myself and other characters don’t, so gets some wish fulfillment of working through issues with care and grace instead of remaining in unhealthy places. She is my “comfort OC” so gets a lot of good things I wish I had—which shapes how she responds to others, like taking care of a FCmate and becoming something of a big sister figure for him, or the responsible older sister figure of my group of OCs. Which is me, really, idealizing my own older sister tendencies into this giant woman who’s better at it.

Aeryn was written to be on the ace scale; not my first character to be so, but the first written that way as I began to realize where my own orientations lie and wanting to examine that through fiction. That she fell for a certain rogue in the process of playing through MSQ again was not at all intentional. I like Thancred as a character—he hits a lot of tropes I enjoy—but in my own mindset, he’s a frustrating younger brother. I didn’t think I’d do NPC x WoL shipping. But there it is, because in determining Aeryn’s own experiences and how those shaped her, it ended up working out that way (and I spent the better part of 2 years writing the characters separately to figure that out and if it could work before writing them together because it’s not something that comes naturally to me).

Aeryn’s internal anger is something I have a difficult time with; it’s outside my own nature to carry things like that. I have my angers, certainly, but they are different from hers. I tend to need a lot to set me off and then it burns out hot and quick. Aeryn’s more of a long boil she keeps bottled up. I’ve gotten a few things through various fics, I think, but it’s why I do things like reference arguments but rarely depict them. Being non-confrontational myself (I’m meek and have hangups thanks to my own life) it’s a challenge. Aeryn responded to childhood traumas (that I never dealt with), bullying (that I did), losses (that I haven’t yet), and the responsibility she’s been given (thank goodness I don’t) far differently than I. Maybe I’d be more volatile, too, if I had her life. But I understand where her anger comes from sharing some of the reasons, I just shape it differently than my own.

There’s a lot of things about Dark and Aeryn that are accidentally similar, just due to the timing of their character generation and other RP OCs made for other games along the way; “Oh I haven’t done X or Y in a character in awhile” sort of thing, but how each approaches those similarities and why—their quietness, their issues with using magic, their tendency to “adopt” others as family—all come from different places and resolve differently, too.

C’oretta comes from a part of me that doesn’t quite want to grow up. That wishes I had been more of the peppy, active, cheerful, risk-taking, live it up stereotypical party kid, that “popular girl” archetype I felt so often on the outside looking in about. As my second character, I wanted her to be different from Dark Autumn—visually, emotionally, mentally. Where Dark is steady, C’oretta is flighty. While Dark is people oriented, C’oretta’s a bit selfish (like I often feel). Dark’s introverted, C’oretta’s extroverted. Much of C’oretta’s attitude is a deflection against the hurts in her life, a way to fight back against some terrible things. It’s a way I could never react. But I also can’t get away from a character who loves to learn and wants to try new things—but where other characters gain the ability to stick with and see them through, C’oretta gets my easy frustration and boredom, and then the “ooh shiny” of a new interest. There’s a history of ADHD (or whatever the acronyms are now) and even autism and learning issues in my family; it’s possible I have some undiagnosed ND stuff going on, and people have noted these things in C’oretta that I’ve based on my own experiences and those of people very close to me.

Many of my characters have traits I wish I had, or were better at; patience, kindness, consideration, convictions, courage, thoughtfulness, and so on and etc. They’re good at skills I haven’t the knowledge in, or the ability to do. They’re certainly more active than I am, or could be! Because I can take the time to think and plan and research and write those things out better, and just maybe along the way not only learn something myself, but try to practice it better myself. I can even sometimes let them teach me what I can possibly do or be, not just imagine it as an ideal that’s out of reach.

I try to let my characters make mistakes I wouldn’t—or in some cases, have in my past, and that’s OK. Especially if I learned from them, but maybe the character does not. Maybe they do but it takes awhile, or repeated instances until it sinks in. Maybe I let them make errors I still make, as a way to puzzle out better solutions I should probably entertain for myself.

Character voice is something I’ve felt I struggled with in keeping my OCs distinct. Do characters ‘sound’ alike, in dialogue and prose? Having distinct ways of speaking helps; C’oretta’s breathless chatty run-ons are certainly different from Dark and Aeryn’s quieter tendencies. I have to remember to trim down Aeryn’s dialogue more often, say less aloud, add more gestures and facial expressions. I tend to be a talker, an over-explainer (if you can’t tell), while the only times she gets like that are specific. Dark’s somewhere in the middle of those two, like I am. A lot of the reason I like writing NPCs and try to keep them close to my interpretation of canon is to practice distinct character voice to get better at it in my OCs, so they don’t sound like me!

And something I’ve never admitted to before is that I think for me, it helps that from the time I was a kid watching various series of Star Trek, I always have had an in-my-own-head-only self-insert. She’s always a support character (that’s what I’m best at). She has cool and unusual abilities to help the actual heroes, cuz heck it’s my internal fantasy and that’s fun. She has traits I want to be better at or wish I had, developed over time with more energy and focus than I can actually muster in reality. As time’s gone on, she’s become more of a mentor and Mom Friend as I’m now older and see a lot of protagonist characters as “my kids” now. She appears in nearly every story I’ve loved over time, in one iteration or another. And because I have a headspace character where I can say “this is what I, ideally, would say and do and be capable of in this situation…” My other characters that I actually write about can vary between doing something similar (if it suits them) to doing something completely different (cuz darn kids never listen) as I can compare them to the self-insert and decide where to diverge.

So it’s a mix of myself and my traits and knowledge, but taking into account how each character would respond and use those same attributes differently than I do or would. Write what you know, write who you are—and then add in some wish fulfillment, some what ifs, some bad choices, some good choices, and shake things up. Give the characters tics and tricks different from yourself and let that shape them, too, by remembering to take those things into account (even if you have to tape a note to your monitor).

And finally, don’t be ashamed of your self-inserts; I’ve known some great characters that started as self-inserts and grew, through their experiences, into wholly different people than their writers over time. Heck, the epic romance my original WoW priest was part of was with a character that started as a self-insert; his player began the game knowing nothing of the lore or roleplaying, but as he learned the story and how to RP, and determined how his character fit into the world and how that shaped him, the character diverged over time, while still sharing some key traits (some endearing, some frustrating, as people are and all part of that friend). It’s not a bad starting point at all. The rest can come over time and practice, especially if you make a lot of OCs and try to make them different from each other while also being aspects of yourself.

[amariaamaris]

Of Changes and Revelations

I got this idea from the other Marvel and TVD crossover that I did, it is going to be (hopefully) very different. I hope it comes out well and that I do it justice... I’m already working on a second part, I felt that this was getting a little to long! Please let me know what you think and if there are any grammar/spelling/punctuation things that need fixing. Constructive criticism is always welcome. This took me forever, there were so many roadblocks and questioning myself on if I actually wanted to write this. Thanks to my sister pushing me and my imagination running wild with promises of what I can do in the future with this... I decided to go through with it... so enjoy!

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After it’s all said it done; after Esther failing in killing her children, Bonnie’s mother being turned to break the link, Abby bailing (again), Klaus forcing Bonnie to break the spell Esther did... The expulsion of magic that resulted inadvertently saved Finn’s life, knocking out the scooby gang in the process (including most everyone in the town). While also setting fire to anything flammable within the radius of the town (leaving only a select few homes and buildings untouched). It’s safe to say all the white oak is gone... along with multiple buildings.... (oops?) The poor trees are all fried, though luckily they have strong bark, so they’ll survive (it also helps that Bonnie helped to heal them).

All of it coalesces and brings Bonnie to locking herself up in her grams house for as long as she pleases with no acknowledgement of the outside world. She had methodically gone through the house and unplugged the internet, tv’s, shut down her phone, and all other electronics. She just wants to be left alone, Bonnie is exhausted; she’s tired of being used, abused, and taken for granted.

She had found a boundary spell in one of the grimoires to keep those with ill or selfish intent off her property and the fu- away from her (especially certain vampires). In the middle of the week Bonnie left her grams house and went to the school. At the beginning of the week she set up this time to test out of high school.

Bonnie made sure to blend in with the crowd to not be spotted by her “friends”; they may have not seen her, but she definitely saw them. She took the test within three and a half class periods and got the hell out of there. Bonnie drove away like a bat out of hell and made it back to her grams house as fast as she possibly could. She had completely moved into her grams house throughout the one after another of the supernatural shit show that she now calls her life (or rather did call her life). Not like her father was ever around for her to bother staying in his house.

The plus side of testing out of high school is that she can go and get whatever she needs without being worried about being ambushed by her “friends” or the Mikaelson's. Bonnie has also decided that she is going to take all the time that she needs to spend on self-love, working with her magic to learn, and embrace it joyfully. She also has been spending time in meditation and speaking with all of her ancestors. For once in her life, Bonnie Shelia Bennett has finally decided to be selfish and damn the consequences.

Little did she know that her new change would go right along with a huge change that will flip her world on its axis and bring up deeply buried memories.

————

Rudy Bennett knew that this day would come, he knew that eventually they would hunt him down. After all, he did abandon his post, he cut off all contact and went rogue. In doing so, also kept his child away from her culture and her people. He knows that if they find out about her and his lack of parenting, that would sign his fate.

Rudy couldn’t hide his shaking hands as he poured himself a drink and promptly chugged what was in his glass. He did decide that he wouldn’t run or hide, he was going to wait for them to come. He just got done pouring his second one when the lights flickered off; causing a shiver of fear to run down his spine, he could also feel sweat on the back of his neck.

When the lights flickered on, there were two Dora Milaje standing on the other side of his desk. Still as stone holding their vibranium spears, with the king and his cousin standing in between them. Both in different black panther suits (armor?), causing Rudy to gulp. Rudy could feel more sweat break out on his skin as he warily stared at his king.

“D’Kadi Dzube, you’ve been missing a long time.” Rudy or rather D’Kadi watched as both the men tapped on their collars and watched as the mask melted away and showed their faces. Rudy could hear his blood rushing to his ears as he felt himself pale a little. “You were once my father’s most trusted war dog. Then one day, you disappeared without a trace. Just a few months ago we found you... we also found some very interesting information. D’Kadi Dzube you have a daughter that you hid from your people. From my understanding you have been neglecting her as well.”

Rudy could hear ringing in his ears and the blood rushing through his body, he could imagine that he looked white as a sheet. Everything was blurring and before he knew it his eyes were rolling and he fell into darkness.

————

Bonnie could feel something coming to the depths of her bones, it would cause her to pause as her hair would stand up on its ends. Which would lead her to looking out the windows, but there was nothing there. It got to the point where Bonnie decided to add an extra warding to the house rather than the property. Evidently to keep anyone away from the structure of the home, while still being able to enter the yard (only if they pass the wards on the property that is).

Bonnie had started a cute little herbal and vegetable/fruit garden in her backyard, along with some landscaping spanning around the whole house. Along with flowers on both sides of the pathway walking up to the house. Bonnie has never before felt this free and happy. That doesn’t change the fact that she still feels a phantom twinge of pain when she thinks of how her friends haven’t even tried to come visit her. Not. A. Single. One.

Hell! Even Klaus showed up! Not that he could get on the property and it’s not like he was checking up on her... but still! Bonnie lets out an annoyed huff and shakes her head as she focuses back on her plants at the front of the house. She tries to work through her agitation; at her friends, the Mikaelson’s, the Salvatore’s, her parents, her grams for not teaching her from the beginning, at herself for not being smarter and wiser, and Bonnie might as well add the world to the list to. 

She very quickly finds herself falling into a flow of taking care of the plants as everything washes away. Bonnie has found that in many instances doing something like this puts her in a meditative trance that helps to center her. Two hours pass with Bonnie working on her plants, when she hears a car drive up and park on the curb.

Bonnie allows herself to slow down in her landscaping work, but doesn’t turn around - even as she hears the car doors open and shut. She can also hear strangely accented voices talking, both male... but she can sense more people with them. Hearing them coming closer makes Bonnie glad that she chose to wear a wide brimmed straw hat that belonged to her grams (she’s rather not have people recognize her before she can tell whether or not they are threats). 

“Excuse me? Are you the daughter of Rudy Bennett and Abby Bennett....” She freezes, but gives no answer. Bonnie can already feel her magic gathering, ready to motus the hell out of all of the people behind her. Receiving no answer, the people behind her exchange looks, “Granddaughter to Shelia Bennett?” Bonnie feels her agitation spike, causing her to rip off her dirty gardening gloves and throw them to the ground.

Bonnie turns around to look at them, noticing two men that look like cousins, two bald women that have what look to be tribal tattoos on their heads, and a random white man wearing clothing far heavy for how warm it is. Bonnie can practically feel her magic crackling at her fingertips and through her hair. “That depends on who is asking and why...?”

One of the cousins move to step forward, but upon seeing the look on her face, thinks better of it. Though, that didn’t stop him from kindly smiling at her, “My name is T’Challa, this is my cousin N’Jadaka, these two women are Okoye and Ayo, and this is James Barnes. I would like to speak to you about your father.”

Bonnie studies all of them and then flicks her eyes back to T’Challa, before she can respond with something biting, she hears whispers upon the wind. She allows herself to slightly tilt her head to listen better. After a few seconds Bonnie focuses back on T’Challa and the people he brought with him. “I’m not interested in talking about the sperm donor that calls himself my father. I could care less what type of underground cultish mafia he got himself into. If he owes you anything make Rudy deal with it, his problem’s aren’t mine to deal with.”

Bonnie quickly makes her way onto the porch of the house - without turning her back on them (she doesn’t have a death wish) - already knowing that whoever these people are, they aren’t going to let her off easily. N’Jadaka, the man with weird bumps all over his extremely musc- no! Bonnie quickly mentally shakes herself as he snickers with a smirk on his face. “I don’t think I have ever heard someone call people from Wakanda a cult or mafia. The little kitten does have a point cousin.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, “She should be wary, she knows nothing about her father’s history. “

“N’Jadaka...” T’Challa gives him a sharp warning look, not noticing Bonnie moving to open the front door to slip inside. “Where do you think you’re going kitten? We said we wanted to talk that’s what you’re going to let us do!” He moves to go onto the porch, but feels like he hit a brick wall, N’Jadaka also gets a nasty zap throughout his entire body. Causing him to hiss slightly in pain as the group takes notice of the wind picking up and hissing whispers upon the wind (not that they could make out what they were saying). They do notice how Bonnie seems to understand exactly what is being said upon her head whipping around to face the road. All of them watched as she ripped off her hat and lightly tossed it onto the porch swing, they heard the sharp angry hiss escape from her as her green eyes darkened.

The group from Wakanda evenly spaced themselves out as they turned upon hearing a car door slam, they all watch as a long blonde haired young woman walked around the car and onto the property. “Bonnie! Where have you been? We have all been trying to get a hold of you, you haven’t been at school, you haven’t been answering your phone or showing up to practice! We’ve been worried! Honestly Bonnie Bennett you better have a good reason for completely cutting all of us out of your life... who are these people?!” Bonnie stares at Caroline for a few seconds realizing that her chest no longer hurts when thinking of her ex-friends. In fact Bonnie realizes with sudden clarity that there isn’t pain when she thinks of her friends, only white hot fiery fury and looking at Caroline only makes her annoyance and fury rise at the audacity that she had to show up to her grams house unannounced at her house, at her sanctuary.

“Who they are is none of your business Caroline, in fact they were just leaving, like you will be. I’m not particularly in the mood to talk to people that ruined my perfectly peaceful day by arriving unannounced.” Turning her attention to the curious onlookers Bonnie continues “I don’t care to talk about Rudy and whatever shit show he’s gotten himself into,” looking to Caroline “and I don’t want to be forced to listen to lies! I’m well aware that none of you have noticed my absence up until a couple days ago. I’m also aware that none of you actually care for me, all of you just see me as some weapon to be used. Well I’m done being your sword and shield. I want all of you the hell off of my grams property. Do whatever you want with Rudy, it’s not my problem and I want nothing to do with it. Caroline you and the rest of those assholes can shove your lies and demands up your asses. I’m not going to be your quick fix to problems you brought on yourselves. Grow the fuck up and deal with them yourself! Now get the fuck off of my property!”

The front door slams viciously behind Bonnie, whose screaming voice still echoed in the air with whispers following it, the group from Wakanda all had their eyebrows almost to their hairlines. While Caroline’s jaw was dropped almost to the ground in shock and hurt. “You should leave Care-o-line, you’re no friend of hers.” N’Jadaka’s voice quickly pulls her out of it and brings up her misplaced righteous fury. “Oh, really, I am her friend. Who the hell are you? From the way it was looking none of you are friends of Bonnie’s! I’m her best friend!! You had to have done something to upset her, she would have never said something like that or treated me that way! All of you are the ones who should leave!”

N’Jadaka moves to step forward, but James puts his hidden vibranium arm in front of him and says only one thing in a harsh warning tone. “Erik...” Causing Erik to suck on his teeth for a second then back down. While T’Challa steps forward with his hands up in the universal sign of peace. “Miss...” Caroline huffs out her answer to his silent question, “Caroline Forbes!” He immediately gives a soft smile, “Miss Forbes, I believe all of us need to leave Bonnie alone for the time being. If it makes you feel better we will get into our car first, but we will only be leaving after you drive away. She is important to our people and I will not risk something happening.” Caroline works her jaw as the gogs in her brain slowly turn, her eyes sharpen for a few seconds, but she quickly gives in and slowly, dejectedly nods.

None of them notice the whispers on the wind that one small young Bennett witch listens too as they all drive away, with a contemplating look in her eyes.

————

The next day has Bonnie working in the backyard harvesting the herbs, vegetables, and fruits that she needs. Bonnie gives absolutely no reaction to N’Jadaka’s presence as he walks around the back of the house. “You know it’s seen as extremely rude to not only invite yourself to someone’s house, especially not knocking on the front door.” She has to hide her slight smile upon hearing him huff out a laugh, “I’d love to knock on your front door kitten, the only problem is... I couldn’t seem to get on the first step.” Bonnie can sense the question in his words, but chooses to ignore it and continue her work. She can feel him watching her and gets quickly fed up witch a harsh huff Bonnie stops what she is doing, stands up, and turns to face him.

She has to give herself a few seconds to get accustomed to the height difference between the two of them, to put it simply... he dwarfs her. Not only in height, but in sheer muscle mass, she averts her eyes to try and hide the affect he’s having on her. Bonnie decides to chalk it up to the fact that she hasn’t had any direct human contact for a while. “Look N’Jadaka...” “Erik” His interruption causes her to blink, “What?” Erik let’s out a quiet huff while a smirk plays along his lips. “My colonizer name kitten, is Erik. I’d rather go by it than N’Jadaka... has a lot more pride in it than my other name does.”

Bonnie quietly mouths colonizer with a confused look, but decides that they can come back to that later. “Fine! Erik... just...” Bonnie let’s out breath and frowns as her eyes play across the plains of his face and the outdoors. “I don’t know why... but my ancestors like you and they say that I can trust you. Now I’m going to do something that I never do... I’m going to trust my ancestors.” She allows herself to walk up to him and look him directly in the eyes “and if you ever... and I mean ever break that trust. I will personally find a way to kill you, slowly, painfully, and only when your begging for mercy will I kill you... got it?” While she was talking her finger was poking him in the chest to help emphasize her words with a sickly sweet smile upon her face.

Erik gives a slow smile knowing that he shouldn’t find himself turned on by her threat, but he is. He allows himself to carefully grab the hand she was poking him with and holds onto it. Erik chooses to ignore the quiet gasp that escapes her lips... for the moment “You got it kitten, would you like me to explain what you were very unwilling to talk about yesterday with my cousin?” He watches completely fascinated as her eyelashes shadow her eyes while she thinks it over, when she looks up and focuses back on him, she gives a hesitant nod. “Okay, but your helping me with my garden... if we have to talk about something that I would rather never have to think about again, your going to be useful and help.” Her words pull a sharp laugh out of Erik, as he grins and gives a nod in acceptance.

Once she quickly shows him what do to and what to look for, they start working. As they work he explains everything to her, everything hidden from her, everything that her father has done... everything. It completely shatters her, it obliterates everything she thought she knew about her father and his side of the family, everything she thought she knew and understood about herself; it sends her completely into orbit. She doesn’t even realize that she is crying, nor does she realize that she is raging at Erik and upon his body. Her fists swinging to hit his chest as her magic angrily swirls around them. Bonnie feels as though she is shattered into a trillion shimmering atoms being carried away upon the wind. She can’t tell if she will ever find herself... how can she? Bonnie doesn’t think that she can gather the exploded pieces... how can she find them? They have scattered to the wind getting caught in the trees, falling to the streams of water to be carried and caught elsewhere. Bonnie can’t even feel Erik tightly holding her as he somehow carries her inside of her grans house. And eventually, much later into the night, he helps to pull her back together, but for now. He try’s to help hold together what little is left of Bonnie Shelia Bennett.

As her true name echoes through her entire being...

Ahnika...

————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you think. The second part is on its way! Peace, love, and joy!

[indigobackfire]

HPHM MC Profile ✧

Indigo Silverwood

“ Getting near you is like stretching my hand into an open flame. I know I’ll burn myself, yet I crave the heat. ”

Nicknames: Indie. Didi (only by family). Silverwood. Silvie (by people who don't bother learning her name).

Gender: Female.

Birthday: 6th of March, 1973.

Born: Edinburgh, Scotland.

Mother: Clarin (née Tramer) Silverwood - Half-blood, Ravenclaw, English.

Father: Palmer Silverwood - Pureblood, Slytherin, Scottish.

Siblings: Jacob Silverwood (b. 1968), Phoenix Nobleworth Silverwood (b. 1973) - Phoenix was adopted after the death of his parents when he was just a couple of months old.

Ethnicity: Scottish, English, (probably with some Spanish roots).

Sexuality: Straight.

MBTI Type: ENFP-A

Blood Status: Half-blood (by her muggle grandmother on her mother's side).

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor.

Appearance

Eyes: Naturally yellow/golden/amber (nobody knows why, since their parent’s eyes are brown) but both hers and Jacob's eyes are like this). She wears glasses for her Astigmatism.

Hair: Naturally dark brown, but she asked her mother to turn it red when she turned 8 and doesn't plan on undoing it any soon.

• She’s average tall and reasonably strong build, honey-brown skin littered with scars from venturing with the vaults and being freaking attacked by dark wizards, big hands and feet due to her height. A large chest that grows at once in her 4th year (”Everybody's starring, Rowan!”).

• She keeps her nails short. Her makeup is often down to just some lipstick (mascara smudges her glasses, eye shadow irritates her eyes), her hair is often long wavy and fluffed for extra volume. She often smells like coconut oil from all the creams her mother insisted she used.

• She looks a lot like her father which gives her a rather rough look - like a handsome but wild animal - yet has enough of her mother’s attributes to be considered attractive and poise if well-groomed.

Magical Aspects

1st Wand: Red Oak wood with Dragon Heartstring core, 12″, pliable. "The true match for a red oak wand is possessed of unusually fast reactions, making it a perfect dueling wand. Its ideal master is light of touch, quick-witted and adaptable, often the creator of distinctive spells, and a good person to have beside in a fight." Indigo had good times with her red oak wand but as the years went by, her emotions start affecting the wand's efficiency. The wand would bleed a glowing red light in moments of extreme physical or emotional pain and become extremely unstable.

2nd Wand: Beechwood with Thestral hair core, 13", rigid flexibility. "The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond their years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry rarely seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation." Indigo has a hard time adapting to her new wand, it's stubborn to her spells and acts upon its own will especially considering its unusual and unstable core, Thestral hair, which is of unknown habilities, except for its use in the mythical, Elder wand. Her wand is one of a kind which is why she has to adapt her abilities to match the wand's requirements. Despite all, it's a remarkable instrument for undoing curses/spells and detecting danger.

Animagus: Somali cat. She's already certain she wants to be a cat animagus - harmless, of easy blend, and enables an approach to humans -, but decides for the Somali breed, during the process, for its sumptuous golden fur and agility.

Patronus: Kangaroo, for its fighting spirit and family values, not to mention its strength. (In-game it's the Abraxan, but only because I thought it would be cool.)

Patronus memory: (During the first times) Her first Quidditch match, not just because they won but because everyone she loves from Hogwarts was there, and she got to cheer their victory together. (Later years) Her family gathering for hot cocoa during a rainy night with Jacob with them.

Abilities: Legilimency, and great emotional influence over magic (Don't get her frightened or angry or she will blow you up).

Boggart:  Her boggart changes constantly - she can't decide if it's either because she overcame the old fears, or if the new ones toppled those, creating a pile of fears. And since the new DADA teacher is always teaching Riddikulus again and again, the famous curse-breaker is always the most awaited in the line.

Jacob, eyes dark and musty, clothes covered in blood, someone's blood. He walks to her and slowly raises his sleeve, the Death mark is craved deep in his flesh and it glows. Behind him, it rises the Dark Lord.

Riddikulus: He turns into a younger version of himself from a photograph she recalls laughing about with her mom (he's running wearing a loaded diaper, crazy hair, rosy cheeks).

For a while is someone in a cloak threatening to cast the killing curse over her friends, whispering each of their names like a snake but she's frozen unable to stop them.

Riddikulus: The cloak falls to reveal a bunch of gnomes piled up wearing wigs and makeup.

For another, very realistic corpses of all of her friends spread at her feet, a dark wizard across from her, it's over and there isn't anything she can do to save them anymore - it was a grim day in DADA, but they all wanted to see it didn't they?

Riddikulus: This is the one time she fails to defeat a boggart, letting the horrible scene consume her, she falls to her knees defeated, and even after Rakepick's shouting, when she tries to cast the spell, it fails again and again.

This last boggart came to show everyone around her how truly terrified she was, not for her own life, but for that of those around her. How despite the confidence she was constantly displaying, in reality, she was afraid she couldn't save them from whatever was trying to get her.

Amortentia: Her Amortentia smells like Jacob's cologne — which he used to borrow from their father which is why she recalls so easily —, fresh Catnip ever since she became an animagus, bakings just out of the oven — extra intensity if there's chocolate involved, and freshly washed sweaters (from hugging Barney and the Weasleys).

Mirror of Erised: She's under the shadow of a tree, Jacob on one side along with Phoenix and Aspen, Barnaby's head resting on her lap, Rowan by her side, and Orion for some reason. They're laughing and reading books, it's an eternal spring afternoon.

Miscellaneous

Pets: A Sphynx cat, Mocca, a brown and white rat, Franccesca, and (later in her Hogwarts years) a Great Horned owlet, Plum.

Things she always carries with her: Her wand (duh), a handmade Gryffindor bracelet that used to belong to Jacob, the Handbook of Magical Theory, a handful of peppermints, a pouch with some money, a flask of Wideye potion, some Murtlap Essence, and a family photo during Christmas of 1980.

Lucky Amulets: She has a dream catcher made by Phoenix from feathers he shed during transformations and a "broken" knight from Murphy's chessboard who decided to leave the game for good and now sleeps on Indigo's nightstand with its horse, she likes stroking the horse the night before every Quidditch match

Best Friends

Her brother, Phoenix, takes the crown in matter of importance because, well, they're siblings who grew up practically like twins, but their relationship deserves their own detailing.

Rowan has got to be the first. Not only they share the same adventurous nerdy spirit, but Rowan also is the one to stick around even when everything is dark and uncertain and Indigo's popularity plummets. Indigo is always excited to hear whatever Rowan has to say - most times about books or Bill Weasley - and she's rarely fazed by the weird things Rowan does.

Murphy McNully is a close second, having officially met in the middle of her second year, they're both still fresh in a matter of friendships which allows them to open up, both in desperate need of company and support. He's often a companion in the girl's library and common room study sessions and sits with them during meals.

Charlie Weasley has her heart and soul from the moment they first speak during year one, but it actually takes a while until they form any real bond, which begins after he finds out she has been seeking his brother's help to search for the cursed vaults.

Ben is a friend she cherishes deeply but often finds it hard to break through his protective shell which makes him feel distant even when he opens up to her. Unlike her friends, she grows more liking towards Ben after he has his change in personality, as he feels more open about himself.

Chiara is a friend she deeply appreciates for her courage in reaching out for her help in times of need and trusting her with her secret. In Marauder fashion, she likes keeping an eye on her on the nights of full moon - which is good to train her cat tree climbing. They often have afternoon tea together and she teaches Indigo useful healing spells.

Andre and Indigo didn't have a great start, as she thought of him as arrogant and inconsiderate, and he thought she was careless and selfish. But when she helps him with a transfiguration mishap during their 3rd year when he was trying to be creative - and the reason he now has a two-headed cat - they start opening up to each other and begin a friendship. He's a good friend to confide in about the mundane aspects of her life and Quidditch intrigues.

Orion means to her more than she can put into words. Not only he is her team captain, but also a dear friend whom she turns to in times of emotional instability cause she knows he'll be the one to successfully help her clear her mind. They enjoy each other's company even if they don't have anything interesting to say. They sit together during every Divination class for as long as the subject goes.

She has no "rivals" as she finds that sort of labeling quite petty, but would definitely punch Emily Tyler on the stomach and perhaps Face Paint kid for all his eavesdropping.

She has an easier time bonding with her fellow Gryffindors since they spend most of their time together in classes, lunch, and hanging around in the common room.

Dormmates: She and Rowan got placed in a room for three people, as the ones for five were already full, along with a girl called Tanya. But at the beginning of their 4th year, they find out she has bailed out to another dorm room claiming they 1. Snort and speak in their sleep on a regular basis, 2. Will eventually endanger her with their cursed vault shenanigans, 3. Will get her killed - which, spoilers, actually happens, oops. So they basically have the dorm for themselves.

Academics

Favorite Classes:

Potions

Flying

DADA

Magical Theory

Least Favorite:

Transfiguration

History of Magic

Arithmancy

Favorite Professor: Kettleburn. Despite CoMC not being on her top favorite subjects, she enjoys her time in his classes and reminds her of her grandfather on her father's side who's a highlander wizard.

Least Favorite: Binns. Just retire you old man!

Quidditch Position: Chaser. Despite enjoying her time as Gryffindor's beater, she notices the position takes a toll on her physical wellbeing, having to carry a heavy bat and being injured by bludgers more times than she can keep track of. So she returns to her chaser position after a year.

Favorite Team: Montrose Magpies. She never had an interest in Quidditch before she began playing but decided to pick a team to support. Of course, it had to be a Scottish team and settles for MM because of professor McGonagall who's also a supporter.

She's not indigo's face claim, but it's hard to find good red-haired characters out there.

I guess I'll leave her background and history for another post since it interweaves very tightly with her sibling. And since I'm still exploring her story.

Well this is just an intro to my beloved MC

[shoujolover-666]

Who is the fairest of them all

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28480689

Ship: Asmodeus/Vil Schoenheit

Fandoms: SWD Obey Me and Twisted Wonderland

For one reason or the other, Vil has been transported to the Devildom. The demons explained to him that he was chosen by sheer coincidence, it could have been anyone else in his place.

A t first, he was rather angry. He was about to prepare himself for a shooting that was rather important to him, but he had been whisked away before he could have done anything.

They explained to him that in his case, the time in his world wouldn’t move forward as long as he was there for this exchange program that would last for one year.

After that, he was definitely more willing to cooperate. The blonde wouldn’t miss a chance to learn something new, and who knows, maybe getting to know these demons would come in handy.

Who would have thought that he would be pulled into so many different scenarios. Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t inclined to help Belphegor or the other brothers with their family problems and whatever there was. It was just that he seemed to say the right thing at the right moment.

Almost as if he was in some kind of game that was especially catered to those who wanted to feel special and loved.

But he wasn’t. That was reality, and he had to handle these men with so many issues that he can’t count them with the fingers on both of his hands.

Even with all of these things happening, he couldn’t say that he regretted staying here. After all, he got to learn interesting spells and even managed to practice on casting magic without using a wand.

Vil was now standing in front of Asmodeus, analysing the beauty products of the demon of lust with a sceptical eye.

Still, he couldn’t deny the other man’s beauty and dedication to keeping his beauty in top form.

Some people would have believed that they would hit it off the moment they met each other, but that wasn’t quite the case.

They had a form of mutual understanding for each other, but the way he behaved was simply too vulgar and tasteless.

That was all there was to it though.

The fact that he enjoyed their evenings in which they exchanged tips and pointers while helping each other out with their hair and make up was something he would forever deny. After all, it wouldn’t do the shorter man any good if here were to get anymore conceited than he already was.

He could hear the soft hum and the soft fingers resting on his shoulders, giving him a massage that he didn’t ask for.

Vil let him do it this time, but simply because he was feeling gracious enough to let him do so.

Despite Asmodeus’ tendency to go on and on about how he was the most beautiful, his presence was tolerable.

At the moment, he was with Mammon. The white haired demon begged him to join him the day before, telling Vil that his job agent offered to pay him a higher price if he brought someone in that would fit certain criterias, and it seemed as if the blonde was up to his standards and even exceeded them.

Not that he expected anything else.

What he didn’t expect was for Asmodeus to join them this time as well, for the younger demon tended to have other things to do, like partying or whatever it was that he liked to do in his spare time when he wasn’t around.

Vil let the make-up artist do his job, even when they looked at him with curiosity. It was probably because he didn’t smell like a demon. Despite that, they didn’t dare to comment on it, which may be because of how Mammon, the one who brought him in, was one of the greater demons, even when his behaviour made him seem like a fool. Next to him he could see Asmodeus, who looked at the professional with contempt, his eyes were practically screaming that he would have done a better job if it were him.

He didn’t say anything though, which surprised Vil to a certain extent, for the shorter man usually always had something to say.

Well, he wouldn’t complain about it.

After they were done, he prepared himself to join Mammon. In rare moments like these, he can’t help but see that the dark skinned demon was really a professional in his field, even when he was usually so goofy and courted punishment from left and right.

Vil didn’t have too much time to appreciate the moment and air of someone who was experienced before they were almost shoved to the front of the camera.

The product they wanted to promote was a new brand of clothes and make up.

Just thinking about that made a small smile appear on his lips.

They wanted to use Mammon for the clothes, but needed another model for the make-up, and it seemed as if the model who was supposed to work with Mammon was not available for one reason or the other.

That was fine with him, for he didn’t mind working on a short notice like that. Also, it gave him the opportunity to widen his reach and fame in an environment that has never heard and seen anything of a man named Neige LeBlanche.

The blonde was quick to concentrate on his job again though, giving the photographer the expressions he asked for, his hand and head was carefully resting on Mammon’s shoulder as he tried not to smear his make-up.

It seemed as if it was a good choice, for he was praised rather often. Mammon himself had a rather neutral expression on his face, none of his usual cheekiness or arrogance was to be seen.

Maybe later he would talk to him more, maybe even asking him if the other needed his assistance more often.

When they were done, the demon was quick to take a step away from him, a blush was on his face. Vil raised an eyebrow at that and was about to ask what was wrong, but he had been whisked away before he could have opened his mouth to ask anything.

The culprit was Asmodeus, who had taken him to a room that was dark and cramped. He could feel the shorter man’s body pressed against his, his hands were resting on each side to stop him from escaping.

“Vi-il~.”

His voice was whiny as he leant forward, his light-red eyes almost seemed to shine in the dark. The blonde looked at the man with champagne coloured hair with a neutral expression on his face, his arms were crossed as he asked the demon for an explanation for what he was doing.

“I don’t like how you are getting so close to my useless older brother. Shouldn’t someone like you desire the most beautiful man? I really don’t get it, I am here, so why would you even glance at someone like Mammon?”

After Asmodeus said that, Vil was able to feel a pair of soft lips against his. He could feel a tongue lick along his lips, prying them apart as he shoved it in, coaxing his own to initiate an almost intoxicating kiss.

The blonde was surprised, his eyes widened slightly, but he was quick to return the kiss, not letting the shorter outshine him.

When he broke it to get some air again, he could see a thin trail of saliva still connecting them, a pleased expression on Asmodeus’ face.

“Oh, it was indeed necessary, my dear. Otherwise, who knows who would have gotten their hands on you first~. Also, you might want to… touch up on your make-up before you let yourself be seen by someone else, or people might think of you as indecent. Not that it would matter too much, really.”

“That was not necessary.”

Vil’s voice was steady, but his breath was heavy. He was not unfamiliar to trysts like these, for there had been a time in which he had to use… lesser methods to get to the top. Stil, he had to admit that the past kisses he got a taste of couldn’t compare to a single one from the demon of lust personally.

And with that, he skipped away. After Vil had the chance to regain his bearing, he looked into the mirror that had been given to him and frowned.

Asmodeus took Vil’s pale and soft hand and pressed a hand mirror into it before he stepped away. The shorter demon winked at him.

“Meet me in my room in the evening, or I will come to you personally, my dear.”

The dark purple lipstick that had been carefully applied was smeared, something that he should have expected when he noticed the stain on the other’s lips. Vil shook his head.

Still, it might be better to obey Asmodeus for once.

A small smile of his own appeared. Hopefully the demon of lust would live up to his name.

[scribble-blog]

Soulmate AU part 10!!!!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

Guys. It’s been a week now since this started. I just wanted to say again, thank you to all the lovely folk who have liked, reblogged, followed, messaged, and replied. You keep me motivated and loving every word that I write, knowing that I’ll get to share it with you.

“We- ah, defeated! The three,” Marinette was saying to the police, and Damian stopped and listened, bewildered, as she played up her French accent, searching for words he was absolutely certain she knew. “And then we hid in the dark room, and I kept Mme. Isley quiet, as they looked for us. And then Red Hood came, and told us it was safe, and took Mme. Isley, and we came out to you.”

Gordon looked tired, but that did seem to be a Police Commissioner’s natural state. “Thank you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Damian Wayne. Let’s get your statement, real quick, and then you can go.”

Damian cocked one brow. “We were in a back room, speaking, when Pamela stumbled in, injured. Marinette bound her wound while I called for help. We were found by some of Scarecrow’s lackeys, but we managed to subdue them before hiding, until we were given an all clear by Red Hood. He took Pam, and we came here.”

Gordon grinned lightly. “Succinct as always. I’ll let your dad know if we need anything else.”

“It is appreciated, Commissioner.” Damian inclined his head, and offered an arm back to Marinette. “We’ll be on our way.”

The walk to the hotel was silent. Damian guided her, and she seemed lost in her own head.

Until they reached the hotel. As they stepped through the doors, Marinette was torn from his arms by two blondes. He tensed, preparing to fight, until he realized that Marinette was reaching back for them.

“How dare you, Dupain-Cheng! Have you even checked your phone? Do you know how worried we’ve been?” The blonde girl cried out. Damian, grateful he knew French, sat back to observe. “The whole city’s been talking about Scarecrow attacking the gardens, and you were there-“

“You really scared us, Mari,” the boy echoed, holding her tight. It took Damian all off half a moment to recognize him from the pictures Jon had shown him as his friend’s soulmate. How interesting.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Marinette consoled them. “Look, see, I’m okay-“

“You’re covered in BLOOD,” the girl screeched.

“Not mine,” Marinette insisted, “I’m perfectly unharmed-“

“Who’s this?”

Jon’s soulmate was looking at him. He’d spoken the last words in English. Marinette turned back to look at him apologetically as the girl also cast her eyes his way.

“I’m Damian,” He intoned. “Though I’m certain you both already know that.”

“This is Chloé, and I’m Adrien,” Adrien grinned at him, looking as smug as the cat that caught the canary.

Chloé sniffed. “We’re important people, Adrien. Last names. We’re Chloé Bourgeois and Adrien Agreste, Damian.”

Marinette, for her part, looked exasperated and was turning pink. “Guys, please-“

“It’s important that he knows who he’s up against if he does anything,” Chloé steamrolled on over Marinette’s protestations. “Rich boy or not, Marinette’s got us in her corner. And I’m not above using my superpowers to get revenge.”

“Alright, Queen Bee,” Adrien rolled his eyes, and very suddenly Damian realized that the bossy, screechy girl hanging off of his soulmate was one of the elusive heroes that Tim had spoken about last night.

“Enough.” Marinette’s voice cut across them, and Damian turned back to her. She looked at Damian in return, assessing, almost waiting.

“I’d like to spend more time with you, if you aren’t too worn out by all the excitement,” he found himself offering.

And he was rewarded by her bright smile. “I’d like that, too. Adrien, Chloé, I’m going to change, and you aren’t allowed to be your usual brat selves until I get back. Play nice.”

She walked away, and Damian was left staring after her. He’d found himself in turns very wary, very interested, and very awestruck by Marinette, and it was honestly something like how he thought a spinning top might feel, constantly unsure of how he would land.

Very disconcerting.

“She’s always like this,” Adrien advised, still grinning smugly as he clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll just have to learn to live with it.”

“Hmph,” Chloé moved so that she was leaning on Damian. He fought the urge to shove both her and Adrien away, possibly with some actual force. At this point not only was it in his best interest to play nice with Marinette’s friends, but he was also entirely sure they were doing this to mess with him. “One would hope that a soulmate wouldn’t just learn to live with something, but rather enjoy these things about their soulmate.”

“You can’t stand that Kagami will drink her coffee after it cools,” Adrien shot back. “There are things that you can dislike about your soulmate.”

“Not for Marinette.”

The tone of their conversation had become dangerously serious, and both blondes were still practically hanging off either side of him, conversing around him as if he were a particularly in the way wall. They were still in the lobby of the hotel, though he appreciated that their voices stayed low despite their- enthusiasm.

Damian stayed silent.

“No,” Adrien agreed slowly. “Not for Marinette. What say you, Damian?”

“I am not entirely certain what I would be agreeing to, honestly.” Damian wasn’t sure which of them he was supposed to be looking at, but they were both doing their best to stare straight into him. “I am also mostly certain that Marinette would consider this as you being your usual brat selves, as she put it.”

“Hmm,” Chloé squinted at him. “Rich boy’s got some bark. What about bite?”

“Rich boy kept Mari safe during a villain attack,” Adrien pointed out. “So he’s not useless. Also, rich boy? I’m rich. You’re rich. Was it supposed to be an insult?”

“Oh, Adrikins,” Chloé pouted. “Don’t play dumb. We’re rich, but neither of us is anywhere near Wayne Rich.”

“This is utterly ridiculous.” Damian finally pulled himself out of their grasps, though he notices neither of them so much as wobbles as they deal with the sudden imbalance. “If you two will not reign in whatever inane urges you have to bother me, I will simply wait for Marinette somewhere else.”

Adrien stood up again, shaking imaginary dust off of himself. “Alright, alright. Cool it, Chloé, he wasn’t a pushover or too rude towards us.”

Chloé was still glaring towards him. “Well. He’s passed the first test, at least. The jury is still out, especially since he hasn’t met Kagami or Luka, yet.”

“If you could stop threatening him, for two seconds!” Marinette dashed back over, and Damian had to keep his jaw from dropping. She’d been stunningly pretty in an innocent way, in the floral dress before, but now she was-

Well. She was gorgeous.

Her hair was down, damp but loosely wavy. She’d put on dark jeans and a pink top that shimmered with each movement, a scooped neckline that only just concealed where he now knew his name sat curled over her shoulder. She had a dark lump over one arm, and he assumed it would be a light jacket until she shook it out and revealed a triangular black shawl. In a second she had draped it artfully over her shoulders, completing the look.

“Disgustingly pretty as always,” Chloé sneered, but Damian caught the way the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile.

“So, Damian, what do you suggest we do?” Marinette ignored her friends, securing his arm again, and he let her. It felt normal now, the way the low buzz settled into his bones with the contact.

He gave Chloé and Adrien one last look before following her lead and ignoring them, turning her towards the door. “I intended to take you to lunch, if you would allow me. After your first official villain attack, I would like to show you some of the better aspects of Gotham.”

She gave him the same bright smile, and he felt like he was finally starting to understand why all it took was looking at Kori for Dick to start grinning sappily. He smiled back. His entire reputation as being haughty, angry and stoic was going to fall to shambles the moment anyone ever saw her with him. He resolved himself to being made fun of by his entire family for weeks, if not months.

TAGLIST:

@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @abrx2002 @area51qt @jessigurl-design @renscorpio @cici-schnee @multplelifes @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @tired-butterfly @kuroko26 @catthhay @moonystars14 @shamefullove @shreky-boi @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person @bigpicklebananatree

[frostsinth]

Royal Flush - Pt. 8

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art (<like a seal xD)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! Omg. This was not how I intended this chapter to go. But the boys take me where they will. I have no control over them anymore.

I hope you guys enjoy! The next part will be... different than this. Can’t say much more without spoilers.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more ramblings. There’s also SO MUCH art of these dorks, click the #Royal Flush to see all of it. DM me if you’re interested in a commission! All the best!

I quickly fixed my posture, meeting my brother’s eyes. Burying every last bit of panic in a mask of perfect stone. His face might as well have been a mirror of mine, a matching set of carved expressions facing each other. Though our physical resemblance stopped at the material of our statuesque expressions. Valerianus was my opposite in most measurable ways; where I was hot-tempered, he was cool. My chin was angular with a rounded point, his was square. My face was clean shaven, his had a polite blonde fuzz neatly edging his face. I wore solid colors, dark but bold. He wore blacks and greys. Where I was practiced in military tactics, he was practiced in manners of state. Where I was trained with melee, he was trained in ranged... But the breadth of our shoulders was the same. The tightness of our jaws. The hazel brown of our eyes.

There were few things I could imagine bringing my brother out beyond the walls of our castle. And none of them were good. I could feel Grier shifting restlessly beside me, and saw the steely gaze of my older brother flicker to him. I dipped my head in deference to Valerianus, remembering myself after the brief lapse. 

“At your will, Your Highness.” I answered, my voice flat even as my mind raced, falling back into court formalities as if not a day had passed without them. “If you would permit me to introduce King Grier.” I turned to the goblin, bowing slightly and extending one hand towards the goblin, who stepped forward at my movement. My tongue halted over the follow up of ‘my betrothed’ which would have been standard. My eyes flicked to him briefly. “Your Majesty, may I present for you Crown Prince Valerianus.”

“It is an honor, Your Majesty. Though I must apologize for the unorthodox nature of my arrival.” Valerianus intoned upon my introduction, bowing slightly, his voice equally drained of all inflection. “It was necessary to keep my identity concealed until I had a chance to speak with you privately, Your Majesty.”

“Of course, Prince Valerianus,” Grier replied, nodding lightly and tilting his head to the side, “As Prince Nikostratus’ brother, you are always welcome here. And it is a pleasure to meet you formally.”

I longed to shift or wring my hands. I itched to ask why my brother was here. My patience could just barely suffer these formalities while my stomach spun knots. I heard equal measures of curiosity in the goblin King’s voice, though less strained than my own, and watched Valerianus’ eyes carefully consider him. Despite our… complicated relationship, I knew my brother rather well. Like all members of court, he was good at hiding his thoughts. But I had become beyond adept at reading the barely perceptible subtle changes in expression and tone. Especially for those I interacted with regularly. It was how I could sense Gareth’s seething anger and hatred with me (and certainly with Grier) even though he kept his face carefully blank. It was why I could navigate the social demands of court better than any other member. And why I could see, laid into the corners of the lines around the Crown Prince’s eyes, a wariness and anxiousness that belittled his outward calm. It made my stomach flip again.

“I thank you for your cordiality, Your Majesty, and am grateful for your understanding.” He returned, bowing his head slightly again. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you as well. And I believe you have already met my escort, Sir Gareth?”

I nearly broke at the useless exchange, my spine tingling with the desire to shift my weight or turn my head. My throat burning with the need to ask him the question pressing into the back of my teeth. But I waited. Waited with all the patience I could muster, practiced over a lifetime of coming second. With my nerves coiling around my chest and my keen eyes analyzing every flicker on my brother’s face.

“Indeed I have.” Came the cool reply, and scarlet eyes barely bothered with a lingering moment on my old guard, who managed a stiff bow. Grier turned back to Valerianus without pretense. “What brings you to our halls, Prince Valerianus?”

I sent a silent prayer of thanks to whomever was listening for the goblin King’s impatience and brusqueness. I saw my brother falter, obviously not used to such a quick switch from formalities to business. Normally, this might have gone on for another few minutes at least. He nodded slightly though, adjusting after a belated moment.

“I beg your indulgence for not sending word ahead, Your Majesty,” He began, and had I not already been as tense as rock, I would have stiffened at his words, “But I am afraid time was of the essence.”

I felt Grier’s eyes shift to me, and didn’t need to look to sense him taking a guarded stance at my side. “All is well with your family, I hope? Your sister?”

That caused a slight stutter in my brother’s mask, and I saw the corner of Gareth’s mouth twitch almost imperceptibly. The question was decidedly direct, as well as specific, and I saw Valerianus quickly sorting through the possible implications of it. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grier’s gaze flick to me again, before back to my brother. A light sparked behind his hazel eyes, and he too spared me a quick glance.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you for your concern. Princess Morgana is fine.” He spoke to the room, but I knew his words were for me. “She is in good health and spirits, and speaks endlessly of the letters sent to her.” I saw the corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly. What might pass for a smile in my family. “Most especially of the manner in which they are sent.”

I would have collapsed with relief had I less control. The corners of my own mouth twitched back at his words, and I tried not to let my mask slip overly much as I thought of exactly how my sister would ‘speak’ of the delivery method. I imagined her delighted little face at the magical pop and sizzle of sparks; Grier had demonstrated for me how it would happen. A fluttering letter, like a paper butterfly, enchanted to appear before her in a burst of color and float down to her hand. Only to become parchment once more upon her touch. I imagined she must have been very ecstatic indeed; I was certain Valerianus had heard about it more than once.

I broke every rule of etiquette I had ever learned to glance briefly over at Grier. Endlessly grateful to him for asking the question I could not. I wasn’t sure if he noticed my glance, or understood the implications. But when I quickly returned my attention back to my brother, I saw his hazel eyes considering it. While I was certainly more efficient at deciphering hidden expressions, my brother was by no means an amateur. I ignored the lump forming in my throat under his scrutiny, and knew that the moment had not gone unnoticed by him even if it had passed over Grier’s perception. I felt my hands tighten behind my back as I wondered what possible conclusions he was drawing in his own mind.

“I am glad to hear.” Said the King, and his relief was much more evident than mine but no less potent. “What urgent matter brings you then?” 

Valerianus bowed at the waist to him, giving himself a moment to recover from the directness of his new question. “My apologies, Your Majesty, but I do not wish to overstep the bounds of our Treaty unduly. Perhaps it would be best if I discussed this with Prince Nikostratus in private first.” He slowly straightened, cutting an imposing figure indeed as he locked eyes with the goblin King. “I would not wish to seem too demanding of your aid on this matter.”

“Your Highness, if I may,” I interjected politely even as Grier began to open his mouth to speak, pulling my brother’s attention back to me, “If, as you have stated, time is of the essence, then I would suggest we not waste any repeating ourselves.” I saw the thoughts swirling behind his eyes again, and met his gaze carefully. “His Majesty has honorably followed not only the letter of our Treaty, but also the spirit-”

“You forget yourself, Prince Nikostratus.” My brother interrupted sharply, and I quickly snapped my mouth shut. There was a momentary silence, where I held still beneath my brother’s scrutiny again. His lips pinched together ever so slightly, and a cold look passed through the corners of his eyes. “I apologize, King Grier, for our Prince’s disrespect. I do hope he has been conducting himself with more dignity during the rest of his attendance here.”

“Your brother has been the epitome of decorum and nobility since his arrival.” Grier replied in equally chilly tones, obviously displeased, and I noticed him cross his arms over his chest lightly, shifting his weight. Valerianus’ brows twitched at that, the only hint to his surprise at such a casual address. “And he speaks the truth now; I would be honored to assist our neighbors in whatever way I can. Regardless of the bounds of our Treaty.”

There was another pause, wherein my brother sorted through the strange social etiquette he now found himself a part of. I would have laughed, understanding his hesitation as palpably as my own when I had been first faced with such a conversation with a goblin. However, I was by far the much more adaptable of the two of us, and I saw him incline his head slightly to Grier. Working to reestablish the order that had been lost. To return to ground that should have been covered initially, then realizing himself wholly unable, and struggling to find the new ground.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” He replied as he slowly straightened and tucked his hands into the small of his back. His hazel eyes flicked over to me briefly. “I am afraid I bring poor tidings for our people... A bout of the Rotting Sickness has broken out in our main city.”

A cold dread wrapped itself around my spine at his words, and my heart skipped. “The Rotting Sickness?” I heard Grier echo. “I have heard of this. It is not an illness to be taken lightly.”

Again there was a pause as my brother absorbed the quick and informal answer. There should have been more, in his mind. More discussion, more play of titles and discussion of politics. When none seemed forthcoming, he nodded ever so slightly.

“No, Your Majesty, not at all. The last time we saw it decimate nearly half of our population.” Valerianus replied.

My heart sunk in my chest and my hands tingled with fear. Yet, I couldn’t help but admire the tone with which he delivered the news. Flat, informational, almost indifferent. Especially impressive considering that the last bout had taken the life of his mother… I had been a teenager when my mother had passed. Valerianus had barely been seven years old when his had fallen ill. Though he would never admit it, her death had scarred him deeply. I knew now why he had taken it upon himself to act, before the illness spread too far. And couldn’t imagine this situation was easy for him in any regard.

“Poor tidings indeed,” Grier replied, nodding with the appropriate amount of remorse in his tone and features, “However, and I hope you do not find this overly callous of me, why seek our aid for this?” His head tilted to the side, wild hair flopping about his long ears. “Do you not have enough healers?”

I realized the answer to the same question that had been on my own lips as soon as it left Grier’s. I saw Valerianus’ thoughts working; swirling about in an attempt to formulate a proper and respectable answer. That would eventually, at some point, get around to his actual request.

“It is your magic that he seeks, Your Majesty,” I explained as it occurred to me, and only when my brother’s eyes shot to me did I realize the brusque nature of my answer, but I continued none-the-less, “When last the sickness hit, we had paltry methods to combat it-”

“I beg your forgiveness again, Your Majesty, for Prince Nikostratus speaking out of turn and with such bluntness.” He interrupted me, his deep voice slightly raised. His eyes flashed at me, the most that ever passed for anger with my level headed brother, “I am most astounded at the amount of abject dishonor he casts upon our family. I would like to extend my apologies, humble though they are, and offer whatever I can in recompense of his actions.”

His glare silenced me, and I pinched my lips tight together to hold in the rest of my words. Honestly, I was shocked at myself, and felt a bubble of heat around my collar. How could I speak out so brashly? He was right, I had forgotten myself, and I quietly bit my tongue and bowed my head slightly to show my acceptance of his scolding.

“And I would beg that you do not interrupt my partner when he is speaking,” Came the tart reply, and I nearly broke etiquette again to glance over at the goblin as the corners of my brother’s eyes twitched in concealed surprise, “I have little patience for this banter, as Nikostratus has quickly learned, and he does both myself and your people a service by just getting to the point.”

The silence rang in my ears, and I felt a little spike of warmth in my chest. But I kept my gaze politely trained at the floor before my brother’s feet. I was torn; a small part of me wanted to follow Grier’s lead and speak my mind. To help sort out whatever was needed to aid our people. Before the illness spread to risk further lives. My heart ached for them. However a lifetime under the boot of the human court had me fighting this newfound spirit as a cornered and trapped animal bites at the hand extended in aid. I sensed the goblin King shifting, meeting my brother’s stare with a familiar stubbornness. I tried to look at him out the corner of my eye without moving it. My brother was silent in the face of the King’s reprimanding. I knew he would be struggling to find a response, as by any standards of court I had been exceedingly rude, speaking out of turn. Yet the goblin had defended me, and as King, his word was irrefutable. So what did that leave for Valerianus to say?

Finally, Grier sighed, uncrossing his arms to place his hands on his hips. “You are not at your human court now, Prince Valerianus, but mine. Speak quickly, and try to stay on point.” I saw the three long fingers drum on one hip. “If you seek aid, why could you not simply send word ahead? Surely it would have been easier.”

I saw my brother straighten, almost taking a step back at the continued abruptness of my companion’s conversation. His shoulders squared and the corner of his lip twitched. Gareth behind him looked to grab at the hilt of a sword no longer at his hip. The tension in the room grew a bit more, but I waited until I felt the cool stare of my brother’s eyes upon me to raise my head and meet them. Hazels waited for me, then flicked to the King. Then back to me... I knew the answer. I could read it plain on his face, though I knew he could not speak it without shaming my family and belittling his own presence. My own lips pursed slightly, and a flash of rage rippled through me. But though his expression explained his actions, his eyes also warned me against another outburst. I dared not speak again, unless first spoken to. As was my place. And knew he would not, as it was his place to carry the conversation as the elder brother.

“My apologies, Your Majesty. I am not practiced in the etiquette of goblin court.” He began finally, but his voice retained its cold edge. “Nor, I am reminded, are you familiar with the customs of ours. I shall seek to make myself as… plain as possible.”

Grier’s scowl was much more apparent. “If you find yourself struggling, I am certain your brother would be more than adept at apologizing for your shortcomings to maintain the peace he has worked hard to establish.”

I knew Valerianus must be reeling inside, and I took a mental picture of his face to savor for later. It wasn’t often I saw the Crown Prince at a disadvantage. I would be sure to treasure this. He took an extra moment to wrap his head around the goblin’s casual and blunt approach, as well as his barely concealed insult, and cleared his throat lightly.

“Prince Nikostratus, despite his delivery, is correct in his conclusions, Your Majesty.” My brother continued, his tone back to its polite flatness. “I humbly come before you to request the aid of you and your mages, that they may help us prevent the illness from spreading more than it already has.”

I thought Grier might be enjoying himself a little too much, based upon the twitch of his smile and the glint in his scarlet eyes. He must have realized he had my brother off balance, and like a predator circling his prey, he moved in. As he took a step forward, I was suddenly reminded that he was a good deal shorter than either of us. He physically placed himself between my brother and I and had to tilt his head back slightly to keep his gaze. It was an easy thing to forget that he barely came to the bottom of my shoulder with the way he always carried himself.

“And this is the reason that the Crown Prince himself came all the way to my kingdom, seemingly … well, let’s be honest,” He glanced over my brother’s shoulder at Gareth and smirked, “Unguarded.” He cocked his head back to the side, baring his pointy teeth. “I am glad your King has such faith in our Treaty as to send his heir apparent himself. Or perhaps he is so enjoying the spoils of peacetime, he hopes to tempt me with another son? Perhaps I might sign over the rest of my kingdom as well with a new contract?”

Gareth’s mask broke at the implication, freeing his disgusted look as his brow pinched up and his lips curled back into a snarl. The goblin King didn’t spare him a glance, keeping his scarlet eyes fixed on my older brother. Poking and prodding, trying to throw him further off balance. I could see the edges of Valerianus’ own composure twitching, and was put in mind of my own first interaction with the King… not to mention subsequent ones. I resisted the urge to sigh, and took a tiny step forward to my brother’s defense. Very subtly placing myself at the King’s side again.

Grier’s attention flicked to me at my movement, and I met his gaze steadily. I couldn’t let my mask falter. Not in front of these wolves. But I hoped my eyes would be able to relay the message my lips could not. He considered me for a moment, then nodded, sighing deeply himself and waving one hand in the air.

“Ah, but it is not for yourself you are here for, but for your people.” He amended, and I saw the tension begin to leave my brother’s face. “This is something I can understand… I would be more than happy to provide our magic for your service.”

Valerianus nodded, fixing his chipped mask back into place. I noticed a brief glance tossed in my direction, but politely pretended I didn’t. I knew he was surprised. Not only at the prior silent exchange between myself and Grier, but also the lack of additional haggling. His position was obviously desperate. I knew he had fully expected to have to give something away in exchange for the healing magic. There was a pause, yet again, as once more he tried to sort himself out. To return to proper etiquette as he knew it.

“I am… most grateful, Your Majesty,” he began finally, and although to the untrained ear his voice would still sound flat, I heard the slight apprehensiveness to it, “We are of course willing to pay for-”

“I have all I need, thank you, Prince Valerianus.” Grier interrupted, waving his hand. “How many do you estimate have been infected so far?”

Valerianus paused, then turned his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder at Gareth. The guard had not managed to fix his face yet, and quickly bowed to his Prince to conceal it. 

“We believe most of the lower city will have been exposed, Your Majesty, with at least half showing symptoms.” He replied, his tone bitter.

I knew his words were purposefully nondescript to be a dig at the King’s knowledge of our people. To force him to ask a question and therefore prove himself at a disadvantage to our knowledge. But Grier merely ignored the guard as if he hadn’t spoken at all. He didn’t even cast his scarlet eyes in his general direction, and I saw Gareth’s cheeks flush with his anger. He was not used to being ignored in such a way.

“I will send enough of my… what was it you called them? Mages?” He cocked his head to the side, considering my brother. “A full contingent to heal those infected and another to ward the rest of the city against the spread.”

Valerianus brought one arm around to his chest, clasping it across and bowing low. “We are most grateful, Your Majesty. I beg that you would allow us to show our heartfelt gratitude in some way.”

He spoke formally, with the usual flat edge to his tone. But I knew my brother was genuinely relieved. We were vastly different in many ways, my brother and I, from our taste in clothing to our personalities. Yet there was one thing I was more than happy to share with him; our love of our people and kingdom. I knew his sense of honor and duty ran as deeply as my own. Perhaps due to my mother’s influence in his life; she had raised him as her own after all for nearly 16 years. And though she had never managed to have the pair of us get along, and despite his faults... I had my hopes that he would make a great King one day. I bowed my own head, as was expected in such situations, and used the opportunity to sneak a peek at Grier out the corner of my eye. Thankful that he was not only a good man, but a good King as well. Perhaps my brother might have something to learn from him, if he was willing.

Grier waved his hand through the air again. “No need, Your Highness. Seeing your city myself will be thanks enough.”

The silence that dropped on the room could have killed a man with its weight. The lump returned to my throat, yet I forced my head to remain bowed. Even as I sensed Valerianus slowly straightening.

“I… We would of course be pleased to host you, Your Majesty,” My brother managed, “You are our most valued ally. Though of course you must allow us proper time to prepare for your visit.”

Grier scoffed. “No need for that, Your Highness. We are soon to be formally united after all,” I felt the tension in the room tighten around my neck like a noose, threatening to strangle the air from me, “And I will be personally overseeing the warding of the Castle to be certain you are all safe from this horrid sickness. I would not leave such an important task as protecting my husband’s family to an underling.”

My ears suddenly caught fire, and I was glad my head was still politely bowed. I itched to speak, to make some excuse or offer some alternative. I felt the cold, sinking dread returning to trickle down the base of my spine at the thought of facing my father and the court at large. But I felt the hesitation engulfing me, my childhood as a helpless bystander settling my tongue into ever silent stone. I blinked slowly, because I knew exactly how this conversation was about to end.

“That is… most kind of you, Your Majesty.” Valerianus replied cordially, his tones forcibly polite. “We would hardly wish to trouble you-”

“No trouble at all, Your Highness.” Grier quickly interrupted, and I could hear the toothy grin in his voice. “I am actually quite excited to finally be able to meet this King Tiburtius I have heard so much about. My mother told such tales of him when I was a child. I am eager to see if he lives up to them.”

Another deafening silence, another few millimeters squeezed from my breathing passageway. My breath was dangerously thin and shallow now, and my heart raced. But I kept my eyes trained on the ground. Do not speak until spoken to, I thought quietly, repeating it over and over to myself as if a mantra to keep me grounded. It was not my place to speak. I had no doubt Grier would not mind, but knew he would not think to invite me into the conversation. And certainly my brother would think it disrespectful to address me rather than the King, even if only for a moment to alleviate the fast growing tension. He was the Crown Prince, he could not request my aid even if he wanted it. I nearly quivered beneath the pressure to remain silent. Fighting harder than I had since I was a child still learning to hold my tongue in the presence of my betters. Those were lessons hard learned, and not so easily dismissed.

“...As you wish, Your Majesty.” Came the final reply, and my heart sank. Even though I had known it was coming. Even though I knew there was no other possible outcome. “May I ask when we should expect you?”

“We can be there first thing tomorrow.” He replied, his dancing voice betraying his eagerness. “I would not wish to delay any further than that; our magic is powerful, but we cannot bring back the dead.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Your haste is most welcome.” I heard him bow, and slowly raised my head, preparing for the farewells. “I would beg your permission to take our leave then. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

“Nonsense. You are welcome to stay the night, Your Highness,” Grier offered, returning his hands to his hips, “We can return together in the morning.”

My brother dipped his head politely again, seeming pleased with the protocol of the offer despite the informal delivery which allowed him to fall back into standard and practiced conversational responses. “Your invitation is most kind, Your Majesty. However, I am afraid we cannot accept it. We must see that things are prepared for you and your people’s arrival tomorrow.”

“Then I will instruct my secretary to charm your horses. You shall be back to your lands and castle well before noon with this aid.” He returned, and his tone left no room for argument.

Valerianus bowed deeply at the waist. “I am eternally in your debt, Your Majesty,” He returned “For your continued aid and generosity.”

Grier’s grin returned, and he offered his own slight bow. I almost winced. Kings weren’t supposed to bow. And yet somehow, his managed to seem both magnanimous and arrogant. I saw my brother’s eyes flicker over him, and wondered exactly what he thought of my betrothed. I felt the dry lump in my throat shift, desperate to be released. But I held still as the formalities of farewell were exchanged before the Crown Prince turned to me.

He hesitated, and I met his eyes briefly before he offered me a tiny bow as well, as was expected. The look there was unreadable, even by my perceptive nature. Though I suspected it had less to do with my observation skills and more to do with Valerianus’ own muddled thinking. I returned the same bow, and held mine as he turned and strode past. Gareth skirted around behind me to stay at his heels. Grier followed them as far as the door, and I felt frozen in place even as I heard the latch clunk. I stared off at some distant point, not fully seeing anything at all. The numbness spreading through me. The soft click of the goblin King’s boots announced his return even before he slipped into my line of sight.

“They are gone now,” He reassured me, a lopsided smile on his face, “You can relax.”

“...Thank you, Your Majesty,” I managed, my voice barely above a murmur and flat as polished glass, “You are not in any way obligated to provide such aid, but I am grateful you are still willing to.”

I saw him pull back slightly, and confusion filled his heavy brow. Then there was a flash of anger in his scarlet eyes. “Tell me that you are joking.”

My eyes stayed still fixed on some distant point I couldn’t see. “I am not sure what you mean, Your-”

“Stop.” His voice sounded pained now, and I felt an echo of its ache in my own chest. My lips clamped shut, tightening to keep from quivering. “... Why are you doing that again? Speaking like…” He shook his head, and I saw his hands purl into fists. “I am trying very hard to keep my calm right now, but… Haskl’an svrit, would you just-” I jumped as his hands suddenly clamped around my face “-Look at me, damnit!”

I did look, meeting his gaze in surprise. His touch was light, yet might as well have been a bucket of water dumped over me. I felt myself slowly beginning to refocus, pulling back from that distant, glazed look of formality. But my mask was more firmly fixed in place than I thought, based upon the desperation that his eyes darted back and forth between mine with. My jaw tightened, and I swallowed hard. Finally beginning to dislodge the lump that had sat there throughout the meeting. Still, the statue ingrained into my personality lingered, chiseled back into place by my brother’s appearance.

“Talk to me, Nikostratus,” He begged, and his thumbs ran across my cheeks, “What happened?? Did I do something wrong? Just talk to me, please.”

I realized I was still slightly bent at my waist, and slowly uncurled. Pulling myself free from his hands as I straightened to my full height. “... What would you like me to say?”

His brow scrunched up, and a scowl came to his lips as his eyes seemed to flash a deeper shade of scarlet. “Anything. Anything you want. Lecture me on human etiquette and all the rules I just broke. Tell me you’re regretting ever signing the marriage contract. Lose your temper and yell at me. Something! Just… don’t shut me out again.”

I paused, dropping my eyes to the ground. My brain and emotions at odds trying to sort out what I was supposed to be doing. I willed my mouth to open, and felt my lips part slightly. But no sounds came out. Hesitantly, I managed to bring my hands around, and thumbed at my palm. I blinked slowly, and felt my lips slowly close again.

“... I saw it.” He told me softly, stepping closer and trying to slip back into my line of sight. “I saw him silence you. I heard him scold you, just for speaking.” His hand came out, catching around the back of mine still clasped before me. I stiffened slightly at his touch, then winced, disoriented again. “I can’t imagine that was the first time…  I get it now, I think… Why it’s so hard for you.” I froze in confusion as he stepped closer, wiggling his fingers between mine. “... but you don’t have to do that for me. I want to hear your voice. I want to know what you’re thinking.”

I started shaking my head before he had even finished speaking, and sought to untangle my hands from his. My mouth flapped open uselessly, and I tried to still myself. I looked down at my palms and fingers, glanced over at where his lingered in the air between us.

“Just… speak. No filter.” He pressed. “Whatever comes to mind...”

There was another pause while I tried to work up my courage. Tried to sort through the jumble of thoughts long enough to push one out.

“... Why did you do that?” I finally managed, my voice soft. It sounded strange, and distant. As if it came from a different place than my own mouth.

“Do what?” He stepped forward, but I matched him for a step back. “...Offer aid? Agree to help your people?”

I shook my head again, trying to dislodge the haze over my thoughts. “... Decide to go to the castle…” I looked at him, hesitant and uncertain. “Did you… did you even think about it? O-or was it just…” I stopped, hesitating.

“Just what?” He encouraged, though I could hear the edge of pain in his voice. “It’s ok, please. Just what?”

“Was it… was it just another game… another tactic... to gain the upper hand?” I finished, uncomfortable with the words as they came slipping past my guards.

Grier was quiet with that for a moment, watching me as he chewed it over. I wasn’t sure what remains of my composure was left, but stood still under his scrutiny. “...I thought it would make sense to. I thought maybe you could see Morgana again, and… I thought maybe it would be nice to see where you grew up.”

I nodded slowly, rubbing at my palm again. “S-so you did think… you just didn’t think to…” I clapped my mouth shut, choking on the words.

“Nikostratus,” He breathed, sounding exasperated, “Please, just tell me what I did wrong! I thought I was helping! I thought you would be pleased!” He took another step towards me, but stopped short as I took a returning step back. “... I just wanted to make you happy.”

I opened my mouth and closed it twice before I finally managed to work around the lump still in my throat. “You did think…” I repeated, then glanced up at him, “...You just didn’t think to ask me.”

He blinked, then threw up his hands. “Ask you what? What was I supposed to ask you?” I winced visibly at his gesture, and he quickly corrected himself into a less intimidating shape. He heaved a quiet sigh. “... Ok... Then I’m asking now… What should we do? What do you want?”

I took another shaky step back even though he hadn’t moved, and found myself bumping into the back of the couch. I leaned against it heavily, easing the weight off my feet, and my shoulders slumped slightly. I noticed him start to inch closer now, and glanced up at him warily. The expression on his face… It was too loud for my eyes which were still attuned to pick up the minute changes of a stone mask. His pain, his confusion, his frustration. It almost burned me to see it so plainly written across his sharp features. I looked away.

“... I-I… I don’t…” I swallowed hard, digging my fingers into the fabric of the couch beneath my palms. “... I-I don’t want … I don’t want to go back.” I forced the words painfully from my mouth, and almost shuddered as they came out. I dropped my head with the confession, bringing my hands up to cradle it. “I don’t want to go back…”

Then he was there, at my side, reaching up as if to touch my face. But he hesitated, though I wasn’t sure if it was out of deference to me or because my own hands were still covering it. I peeked at him between my fingers, before slowly lowering them again. Keeping my head bowed. I felt my mask breaking down, and it cut me deeply as it fell. I was left raw, and so unnerved I shifted and shook my head once more. If I hadn’t clenched my hands into fists, they would’ve quivered where they rested.

“I-if I say it… I-I’ll ruin it.” I told him softly, my voice weak even to my own ears. I paused, hesitating again. “That’s… that’s what always happens. But… I don’t want to go back… Grier… I…. I like it here… W-with… With you.”

I let him touch me now. I didn’t resist as his hand came up and smoothed across my cheek. “You’re not going back. You don’t have to go back.” His thumb rolled against my skin again. “You can stay with me, if that’s what you want.”

“... I-I…” I shivered, and he gently rubbed his hand along my jaw soothingly. I reached up, cupping my hand over his. “I’m... I’m not sure… but… But I think...” I felt ashamed with the way I leaned into his palm, closing my eyes. Breathing in his scent. I was weak, and I couldn’t resist the warmth of his touch against the chaos of my mind. I shook my head slightly and retreated from my uncertainty into more familiar waters.  “... He doesn’t know.”

“Who doesn’t know?” He sounded surprised by my sudden switch.

“The King. He doesn’t know Valerianus came here. That’s why they didn’t send word. That’s why he came undercover.” I turned, slowly opening my eyes again to meet his, calming with his gentle touch. “The King doesn’t want our help. He must have forbidden the formal request. So Valerianus went behind his back and came anyway.”

To my surprise, Grier chuckled, stepping closer and reaching up with his opposite hand to trace it along my neck. “Well, perhaps you and your brother have more in common than I originally thought.”

“Not that much…” I said dryly, and Grier laughed again.

“There you are, my young Prince.” He murmured sweetly, slowly smoothing his hand against the tender flesh at the side of my neck. I felt my tension start to ease at the tenderness in his voice. “I was worried for a moment we were back to where we started two weeks ago.” I dropped my gaze shyly, and felt his thumb roll against my cheek. “I would hate to start over again… especially after last night. That would be a special kind of torture.”

Instantly I felt my face flush, and started to shake my head. My heart raced in my chest, and I would have stood to escape his embarrassingly forward words had he not been standing directly in front of me. His new chuckle was deep in his throat, and I could hear his smile in his words; though I refused to look at him.

“Ah, yes. Apologies. I will politely refrain from mentioning that I slept in your arms last night. It is far too scandalous to bear.” He teased, and I nearly squeaked as my cheeks blazed. His responding laugh did nothing to soothe me. “You do know we’re getting married, right? This will hopefully become a regular occurrence, if I have any say in it.”

I swallowed hard, blinking rapidly and trying to clear the fog settling around my thoughts at his words. “A-ah… b-but not yet…” I’m not sure how I managed to flush an even darker shade, yet felt even hotter at his words. “... I-it’s improper until… umm…”

He freed his hand from under mine and tucked it beneath my chin to gently tilt my face towards him. “Says who?”

I was surprised by his question, my hand falling back to the couch, and adjusted my tongue in my mouth for a moment before responding. “Etiquette. Even a betrothed couple does not share…” I dropped off, and tried to look away. But he kept a firm grip on my chin, keeping me in place. I glanced at his scarlet eyes. “N-not until they are married, at least…”

He smirked, and my heart skipped a beat at the sight. “For human couples, perhaps.” He tilted his head to the side. “But we are not a human couple… nor a goblin couple.” He thumbed my lip, and I saw his attention drop to it briefly before flicking back up to my eyes. “I think we can make up our own rules, given the circumstances.” He leaned in a little. “I am King, afterall. And what good is it to be King if I don’t get a few… benefits?” His grin became more coy. “For instance, having a handsome Prince as my betrothed… and in my bed.”

I shivered slightly as he skimmed his thumb over my lip once more, watching his eyes dart down to it again. His words left me scalding hot and flustered, and I made some useless sounds for a moment. I was surprised he could stand touching my cheek considering its blaze... Though I supposed he had a point... I had no good argument for him, nor, I realized quietly, did I want to find one, and so fell silent. But couldn’t help my own eyes flick down to his own lips. I watched them split into a thin smile as I did, and swallowed nervously.

“So tell me, my young Prince... What would I have to do to earn another kiss?” He murmured, easing himself between my knees so that his torso almost scraped mine and my thighs brushed against his hips.

My breath faltered and I felt the flush spreading beyond my face. I would have leaned away, but was already precariously perched on the back of the couch. Despite this, I was still a little taller than the goblin, and he tilted my chin down to keep our eyes locked. I swallowed again, and couldn’t help glancing back at his lips. He stretched up on his tiptoes, lingering barely a hair’s breadth away from my mouth.

“Not much…” I mumbled in reply without thinking, my head already spinning. Our lips almost brushed together as I formed the words, so close did he linger to mine. I fought to try and regain my senses, but found myself far too distracted by his proximity and the heat washing through my body at the sensation of his breath whispering across my lips.

His smile became teasing, and I saw his thin eyebrows wiggle in amusement. “Well, I am sending a contingent of my people to cure your home city of a deadly illness… Perhaps that is deserving of a reward?”

I almost smiled back, and the corners of my mouth twitched. I saw his eyes light up at the sight, and I couldn’t resist leaning forward. Closing that last little whisper of space. Brushing our lips together ever so lightly. I felt him lift off the balls of his feet, pressing in a little closer. But I fell back shyly after a moment.

He rocked back himself, eyes fluttering to glance at my lips again before meeting my gaze. “... I also didn’t throw that pitiful excuse for a guard into a cell for his disrespect. That was pretty good of me, wasn’t it?”

My lips twitched again, and I boldly bent down, kissing him lightly once more. His mouth parted slightly and I could taste his breath in my lungs. A moment later, I leaned back again, and he ran his thumb along my cheek.

“... How about the fact that I was properly civil to your brother? I didn’t try to get him all flustered-”

“You did try.”

“Well,” he scoffed, “But I stopped! That’s got to count for something.”

I didn’t bother arguing, secretly happy to have an excuse to curl back down to kiss him one more time. He stretched up as far as he could go, pressing our mouths together. I felt a tickle of excitement run through me as his hand at my jaw slid back to wrap around the base of my skull. I recognized his trap for what it was, but allowed him to pull me into it anyways even as my heart skipped in my breast. He stepped in closer, brushing our bodies together. My own hand moved from the couch to slide slowly around his waist. I could feel his grin of pleasure against my mouth. Could feel the skim of his sharp teeth against my lips. I responded willingly as he deepened the kiss, and I felt his long tongue slip past my defenses as his hand previously at the side of my neck began to slide firmly down my front. I quickly began to try and think of something else as I suddenly realized his end goal and my whole body began to grow hot.

Grier moved carefully, but purposefully, his lower hand massaging along my sides before trailing lazily down to my hips. He brought his body closer, his hair spilling like strands of wheat hued water down his back as he craned his neck to keep our mouths locked together. I kept my free hand on the back of the couch for balance, and it twitched as his tongue twirled around mine. I could feel each breath he drew press his chest against me, and the heat of him melted through my clothes. I maintained a rolling monologue in my head to distract myself, but couldn’t resist curling my shoulders to better crush our mouths together and let him rock back on his heels. Couldn’t help the little hitch in my breath as he kneaded his fingers against my muscles.

He shifted his grip on the back of my head, rolling his thumb under my chin and finally breaking us apart. Though only to angle my face to the side, then his lips came against my jaw. I felt his tongue flick at my earlobe and shuddered. Redoubling my mental efforts as he traced his hot mouth down the side of my neck, even as his lower hand began to squeeze and work up my inner thigh.

“Shva... vent, non…”

Grier pulled back, looking up at me with surprise. Instantly I flushed dark, and swallowed hard. Clamping my lips shut as I realized I had let my mental efforts slip into a much more physical form.

“... What was that?”

I shook my head sharply, quickly dropping my gaze. “N-Nothing!”

“... You said something.” His head cocked to the side, his actions stilled in his curiosity. “I think it was in goblinese. What did you say?”

“A-ah… I-I… I was umm…” My lips felt bruised and numb, and my tongue certainly wasn’t up to par. I swallowed hard, rubbing at the back of my neck with my free hand guiltily. “I-I was… I was reciting the goblinese alphabet… backwards...”

He laughed out loud in bewilderment, a wide grin splitting his face. I was still too embarrassed to meet his eyes, but he slid his hand around to cup my cheek again. “What ever for??”

I cleared my throat, still blushing furiously. “...To… um… dis-distract myself.”

“To…” He stopped suddenly, as he realized what I meant. I wasn’t sure how his grin managed to grow even bigger. “Well. And here I thought I was simply failing to impress.” He leaned back in, until our noses touched, and my breath hitched with the intensity in his scarlet eyes. “... Don’t mind me then. I won’t stop you.”

I jumped as he nipped lightly at the tip of my nose with his pointed teeth. Then he gently pushed my head to the side and began to lick and suck at the curve where my neck met my jaw. The sensation coupled with his breath in my ear sent goosebumps spiking across my skin, and I shivered. I felt his hand on my leg begin to move again, in coordination as his other slid down my chest then around my waist to rub at my back. Pulling me closer to him as his mouth worked its way down my jugular. My head swirled at the sensations he pulled from me, and I felt my mouth drop open a little.

I blinked rapidly, trying to push aside the heat rippling through me. My mental fortifications were not enough anymore, with his hot tongue rolling across sensitive flesh… I switched tactics. 

“... Vent… n-non,” I breathed aloud, as softly as I could, then I gasped a little as he grazed his teeth against the crook of my neck, “Mwun-n… tw...t-twa… nya...” I felt him trace the pad of his thumb across the stiffening bulge between my legs, despite my best efforts to deny its existence, his touch teasingly feather light. My arm around his waist clenched and flexed as I attempted to hold still. “Sh-sho… ack…” He undid the top button of my shirt collar with his teeth, “... N-nya…”

“You already said ‘nya’.” He murmured, his voice husky, and I felt his long tongue flick at the hollow at the base of my neck. Another ripple of excitement washed through me. I didn’t have the presence of mind to respond.

“... Sho… a-ack…” His hand was pressing harder against me, pinning my erection against my pelvic muscles. I couldn’t help rolling forward ever so slightly into his movement, if only to keep from being pushed off the couch. The rough fabric of my pants against the sensitive flesh combined with his pressure was making my lips fumble uselessly over my attempts to stay on track. “... h-hau..” He eased his way along its length until his thumb found the head, and I drew in a sharp breath. “Shit.”

His chuckle vibrated against my own throat. “That’s not one of ours.” He moved his lips against my skin as he spoke, and I shivered at the sensation with a huffy breath escaping between my clenched teeth.

My free hand grabbed at the wild hair at the back of his head, and I yanked him away from his administrations at my neck. Forcing his head back and crashing our mouths together once more. His hand rubbing at me curled, finding purchase to partially wrap around my cock through my trousers. I fed him a groan, sliding my thighs almost closed to pin him between them. He nearly pushed me off my perch with his feverous pursuit of my lips, and I shifted carefully to accommodate him. I felt his smile, and tasted his delight as he slipped his tongue back into my mouth. I sucked at it lightly, daring to slide my hand at his middle down to his backside and pull him closer. I hesitated, faltering slightly, but was only rewarded by his hand as he began to massage it rhythmically up and down my member. I found my own hand could cover almost the entire spans of one cheek, and took up a handful of his ass with a firm squeeze. Jerking his hips towards me. I swore I could taste his own excitement and delight.

Suddenly there was a loud knock that had us both jumping. I started to fall backwards in alarm, and had to release him sharply to grab at my seat and keep from toppling over the edge of the couch. Grier hooked his other hand around my waist as well to steady me, panting slightly as he glanced over his shoulder angrily.

“Ta mal’shon??” He snapped loudly. I quickly fumbled, starting to straighten myself. I was impeded by his unwillingness to free me from his arms.

“Apologies for the interruption, My King,” Came Hibik’s voice, muffled through the door, “The goblins you requested are assembled and awaiting your address-”

“Then let them wait!” He shot back.

My eyes widened slightly. “Y-you can’t make them wait.”

He scoffed. “Sure I can.” His hungry eyes returned to me. “... An hour won’t hurt them.”

I was shaking my head, my flush returning as I moved to stand. “Grier-”

“Don’t you ‘Grier’ me.” He grumbled as I slowly started to unwrap his arms from around me. “You almost never say my name. You can’t use it against me now.”

I paused, looking down at his wrists in my hands. I hesitated, but then ran my thumbs over them. My blood was still rushing through me and my head pounded. Not to mention the painful throbbing ache at my pelvis. But my thoughts were slowly clearing without his mouth on mine and his body pressed against me. I swallowed hard and shook my head, trying to further clear it. Even as they attempted to wander back to...

“...Perhaps it’s for the best,” I mumbled, still staring at his hands, “I-I shouldn’t have let things… get so out of hand.”

He groaned, shaking his head. “This is EXACTLY what I was afraid would happen. You’re going to end up overthinking this, and then-”

“I’ll…” I cut him off, then hesitated, stopping short, “I’ll… try not to do that… But, ah…” I blushed profusely, releasing one of his hands to reach up and rub at the back of my neck. “If… you know… w-well…” I cleared my throat and shifted my weight before changing the subject. “... There’s still a lot to do before tomorrow…”

That was certainly a sobering thought. The reminder of my impending return to my father’s kingdom had the blood draining out of my face. My expression must have shifted noticeably, because Grier’s turned his wrist still in my grasp to intertwine our fingers and give a gentle squeeze.

“We don’t have to go.” He told me. “I’ll send Hibik. I’ll make some excuse.”

I shook my head again. “It’s… It’s too late now. We have to. Besides… “ I sighed, “If the King is going to be involved, things are going to get… difficult. I should be there… To smooth things over.”

He winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it through. Didn’t think about what returning there would mean to you.”

I hesitated, then squeezed his hand back. “I’ll be fine.”

The goblin’s eyes flicked to the door, then coyly back up to me through pale lashes. “... I don’t suppose I could just convince you to pick up where we left off?”

I laughed, short and brisk, my head shaking again to hide the twitch at the corner of my mouth and the fresh wave of heat that washed through me at the thought. I heard him sigh again, giving a soft grumble. I looked back down at our hands, and nervously ran my thumb over his.

“... It sounds stupid… but, I’m kind of…” I stopped, biting my tongue and feeling the flush rise back to my face.

“Whatever it is, it’s not stupid.” Grier reassured me, his voice soft. “... Tell me.”

I rubbed at the back of my neck again. “... I’m kind of glad we were… ah…” I swallowed, my eyes flicking over to the couch, my skin tingling. “... Interrupted… I would prefer to be less… um...I-I sort of thought that it… that w-we…”

He waited as patiently as he was able, distracting himself with bringing his free hand up to run over my knuckles and the inside of my wrist. I swallowed, watching him for a moment as I tried to pluck up the courage to finish my train of thought.

“W-well… I thought we could… that we could… make it …. You know… ah… s-special.” My face blazed as I forced the final word stutteringly from my mouth. I shuffled my feet sheepishly. “A-ah, I’m sorry, that sounds dumb-”

“It sounds romantic.” Came his soothing reply, and I dared a glance up at him. He smiled warmly at me, sliding his free hand up my arm as he snuck in closer. “I like the idea. Less hungry. More intentional.” His smile grew. “Still passionate though.”

“Y-you don’t have to humor me-” I started, already starting to get a little flustered and distracted by his proximity as his roaming hand slipped about my waist. I could almost feel it rolling up and down my member again.

“I’m not.” He assured me, pulling our clasped hands to tuck behind him. Pressing the back of my hand into the small of his back. He chuckled almost sheepishly. “Honestly, if the candlelit dinner in the garden didn’t clue you in that I’m a romantic at heart, I’m not sure what would.” His smile became sly, and I swallowed nervously. “You know, all the good love stories have a Prince charming in them... I never thought I’d be lucky enough to find my own.”

A tingle shot down my spine, and I didn’t even realize I was leaning down to meet him as he stretched up until our lips brushed together again. The scent of him drove me near mad, and my mind raced. I felt his deep, contented sigh, felt him begin to melt against me again, pinning our bodies back together. I started to pull back, but his arm around my middle tightened.

“Grier,” I breathed against his lips, distracted, but insistent.

He kissed me again, and I lingered in the taste of him for a moment. I drew our mouths apart, but didn’t withdraw far. His breath still splashed against my cheeks as he sighed again. 

“I know, I know…” He murmured, and rolled up onto his tiptoes to press our lips back together. I blinked stupidly for a moment when he rocked back on his heels again. “... I’ve never had such a compelling reason before to forget being King…” He grinned up at me like a fool. “... Can we move the wedding up?”

I stiffened a little at that, and gave a nervous laugh. Uncurling, I straightened to my full height, and he dropped his arm from around my waist. But our other hands remained clasped, and he brought them around between us again. He ran his thumb back and forth over my knuckles.

“... You know about the lower city?” He asked softly. “The layout, the entrances?” I nodded, still distracted by the lingering taste of him on my tongue. “I’ll send the Masters to speak with you after I’m done with them. To plan how to best meet with the people, then how to clear and ward the rest of the city.”

I nodded again, coming back to the present a little more with his words. “Of course, Your- ah…” I stopped myself, seeing his glower. “S-sorry… Force of habit.”

He gave a snort at that, but shook his head, letting it go. “And the castle?”

“I know the entire kingdom by heart.” I assured him. “Every brick and flagstone.”

He squeezed my hand gently, then reluctantly dropped it. “... We’ll likely be working through the night to get everything ready. If you find time to get some rest, please take it.” His scarlet eyes flicked up to me. “And eat, yes?”

“What about you?”

Grier waved away my question. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll make sure Hibik brings me my own pot of coffee to keep me from laying siege to anyone… Unless that bastard King tries anything funny.” The silence grew tense momentarily until he noticed, glancing over at me. He winced, then smirked apologetically. “I jest, my young Prince. No sieging. No wars... Just healing magic.”

I cocked an eyebrow slightly, but didn’t have time to remain doubtful as his arm was suddenly around my middle again. He nearly had to jump off his toes to plant a quick, light kiss against me. Instantly my face flushed again, even before he landed back on his feet. His laugh bounced about the room as he spun on heel, darting to the door before I could retaliate.

“I’ll see you soon, my young Prince.” He called in farewell as he slipped out into the hallway beyond.

I sighed heavily, shaking my head and rolling my shoulders back. I was certain I would be kept nearly as busy as he, and could find a way to make myself useful if not. I shifted my weight, wincing, and tugging at my clothes to straighten them.

…. Perhaps a cold bath first.

.....

UPDATE: Part Nine HERE

[lotus0kid]

OUaT: Finding Fate

((For the 2020 Rumbelle Secret Santa, using @dorkone's prompt "castle flirting vs. storybrooke flirting”. Hope you like it!))

Regina racks up enemies like it’s the latest fashion.  At least she doesn’t task Rumpelstiltskin with conjuring her wardrobe as well as resolving her current vendetta.  Someday he’ll enjoy making her understand that she was never more than a means to an end for him.  Until then, he sits at his wheel and ponders how to make things difficult for a certain mermaid.

He nearly jumps off his stool when the doors to the hall fly open and a voice that has no business sounding so cheerful within the gloom of the Dark Castle rings out, “I did it!” Belle strides straight for him, a broad smile on her face and a silver platter balanced on her palm.  “I knew I’d get it eventually.  I wasn’t sifting the flour enough.  Thank the gods I figured it out- this batch is the last of the almond stuff!”

As she circles around to stand at his side Rumpelstiltskin catches the scent of something baked and… minty?  He stops the wheel and inquires, “What strange act have you committed in the kitchens now?”

Belle rolls her eyes at him, “If you wanted a cook you should’ve dealt for one.  But you got me, and I’ve just made a breakthrough in my culinary practice.  Here, try one.”

The platter swings toward him, revealing a number of bite-sized macarons tinted an alarming green shade.  The smell isn’t actually bad, now that he’s a had a minute to get used to it, but he curls a lip anyway.  “No thank you, dearie.  I have no need for… whatever this is.”

“‘Whatever this is’ is a delicacy from my village.  We made them every midwinter.  I thought I’d never get to have them again, but with a little experimentation and perseverance, you can hardly even taste the difference!”

Rumpelstiltskin blinks up at her, then returns his attention to the wheel.  “Right, well, congratulations then.”

Belle lets out a soft snort of indignation before saying, “Won’t you try one?  Here, I’ll go first.”  She picks up one of her creations and pops the whole thing in her mouth.  The instant her pink lips close on it her eyes slip shut and she moans in pleasure.

Rumpelstiltskin locks his gaze on the wood grain of his wheel, the only thing that might save him from the in all ways unwelcome heat rushing through his body.  This is made more difficult when something green bobs into the lower right corner of his vision.

“O-pen u-up…” Belle sing-songs as he resists the urge to lean into the fresh, bright scent of the treat. When did I summon mint oil to the cupboard?  “You know food tastes better when it’s shared, just try one.”

In this second, he snatches for his seer’s sight in hopes of some guidance, receiving silence in response. His own imagination offers the possibility of slapping her hand away- perhaps throw her totally off balance and send the lovely tray of treats clattering to the floor.  The thought of the cold glare she would cast on his back sends a chill through him.  Perhaps not. So, he could go the other way. Do as told, and open up, let her set the macaron on his tongue.  He could even close his lips quickly enough to catch her fingertips, and taste her skin along with the delicate crunch and zing of mint.  

Rumpelstiltskin shakes his head to clear these imaginings- one far too cold, the other far too hot. Belle’s hand retreats.  “All right, never mind then,” she begins, but he reaches out and cups his palm under hers, taking the macaron with his other hand and bringing it to his mouth.

He grinds through it with brisk efficiency.  “A triumph, dearie,” he announces after swallowing, “Well done.”

She smiles, nods.  “Thank you.  It’s good to know I can feed you something.  I don’t care what you say about being sustained by magic, it’s just not healthy to not eat.”

The briefest accidental glance in Belle’s direction reveals a look of warm concern beaming down on him and in that instant a thick, heavy sob swells up in Rumpelstiltskin’s chest, tightens his throat, and makes his eyes burn.  She’s right.  He lets the magic feed him, and it feeds on him in turn.  Sometimes he must call up a gallery of memories of Bae in order to keep the darkness from consuming him.  Once or twice, he’s had trouble recalling the exact shape of his son’s face, which causes frigid fear to blast through him.

Remembering that fear, joined with the horrific likelihood that he might start blubbering in front of Belle, drives him to his feet, and he utters pardons a second before whisking himself off to his tower.

Belle is of course the problem, he decides while pacing stolidly and aimlessly and sighing away the ache in his chest.  He swore an oath to love no one as long as Bae is lost to him.  But she’s here, and she is…  That’s not to say he actually…  It’s his old spinner’s heart, the foolish thing.  It still hasn’t learned- the people he loves, they leave.  He needs to show it what comes of entertaining silly little hopes.  He must look ahead, and see how Belle will free herself from him.  He’ll be calm then.

This is easier said than done.  As proven moments ago in the hall, the seer’s sight is finnicky at best, coming and going as it pleases.  And when he can grab hold of it, it sometimes rattles through more possibilities than Rumpelstiltskin’s mostly human mind can comprehend.  But perhaps he can channel it, focus it in one direction.  Indeed, his focus is clear- it’s Belle’s future he seeks.

He shuts his eyes and extends his awareness to find her walking back to the kitchens, and so takes the opportunity to transport himself into her room and pluck a strand of hair from her pillow.  This he carries back to his tower, then flicks through a dense tome of spells on a desk until he comes to a powerful divination spell.  With his eyes screwed shut as he mutters the words that will drag his seer’s sight to heel, he does not notice a hair from his own head come loose and drift down to join Belle’s in his palm.  But as unremarkable days of caretaker duties unspool within his mind, a mysterious golden haze drifts through, and he feels time speed up to a blur.

He tries to haul back on imaginary reins- he has no interest in zooming all the way to Belle’s eventual death.  Slowly his awareness settles on one point in the future.

The first surprise is that he isn’t a ghostly spectator in this random moment to come.  He feels himself present in the space.  Looking down, he finds himself wearing, not his usual silk and leather, but rather loose-fitting wool trousers matched with a jacket and a shirt fastened by a simple row of buttons.  His only silk is a thin strip tied around his neck, discretely folded under the shirt collar.

His second surprise are his hands.  They appear as those of an ordinary man, a state which is anything but ordinary.  His right wraps comfortably around a gold-handled cane- in this peculiar vision he’s aware of his maimed ankle as a distant stiffness.  His left hand holds the bow and neck of a violin.  He doesn’t have much time to study the instrument before the sounds of an opening door and a ringing bell come from beyond a curtain hanging in the doorway of the room he occupies, which appears to be the storage space of a small shop of curiosities.

After a moment, the curtain is pulled back to admit his third and biggest surprise- Belle, carrying what appears to be a sack made of paper and wearing a skirt far shorter than anything Rumpelstiltskin’s ever seen on a woman of her station.  She doesn’t seem at all bothered by this, smiling wide as her eyes fall to the violin.  “Unearth something interesting?” she asks before setting down the sack on a small table nearby.  “You might want to wait until after lunch to tell me about it.  Ruby said Madame Mayor was snapping at everyone when she got coffee this morning, so we may not have long to eat.”

None of that makes sense to Rumpelstiltskin- or, at least, the Rumpelstiltskin of the present.  The Rumpelstiltskin to come replies with ease while his past counterpart observes from within, “If she requires another lesson in patience, I’m happy to provide it.  Come have a look at this.”

She comes to stand before him as he holds out the violin.  Its body is decorated with wood inlays depicting two people in profile with their arms outstretched.  Magic curls away from their hands, meeting at the strings.  “Lovely.  And powerful, I suppose?” she inquires with a raised brow.

“Versatile, more than anything.  Play a certain tune, achieve a certain magical effect, assuming you play well. Shall I?”  Rumpelstiltskin lets the cane fall against his hip and transfers the bow to his right hand, setting it on the strings but pausing there with his gaze on Belle.

She nibbles at her lower lip, but soon says with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes, “Why not?”

“Very well,” Rumpelstiltskin says with a grin of his own.  He closes his eyes and searches the enchantments laid upon the violin, and finds something that might actually be familiar.  An old tune his Aunt Iph used to play for Aunt Im.  The melody slowly emerges as he draws the bow along the strings. 

It’s not long before he hears a soft gasp and then a bright giggle.  Belle’s hands fall on his shoulders and he opens his eyes to take her in as she floats about an arm’s length off the floor.  Light shining through a nearby window gleams every part of her it touches.  He maintains the tempo and volume of the song, which keeps her from drifting any higher. After a moment’s uncertainty, she lifts her hands, swaying and bobbing slightly to the beat, turning a slow circle in the air.  Rumpelstiltskin can’t say when he’s seen anything more beautiful, and his heart melts with love.

When she faces him again her hands return to his shoulders.  Beaming down on him, she murmurs, “That’s the tragedy of musicians- they don’t get to dance.”

Her brow furrows slightly and her hold on him tightens, and he actually feels the magic he’s emitting flow through her back into him, settling in his feet as a lightness that almost tickles.  Then he’s rising, rising up to meet her.  Belle’s arms slide around his neck as the distance continues to close between them.  Her lips brush his and in that instant there’s a blinding flash of gold light behind his eyes and the vision snaps out of existence and Rumpelstiltskin drops hard against the desk, knocking the tome of spells into a mess of fluttering pages on the floor.

He grips the edge of the desk, feet and lips still tingling, trying to understand what just happened. Because it can’t be the future, what he saw.  It’s not possible.  Him and Belle, together, really quite unmistakably in love.  True love.  No, it cannot be.  Anyway, in that world it didn’t seem instantly apparent where Bae was, and therefore it was no world Rumpelstiltskin wants to live in.  Not at all.

He crouches down to pick up and turn the tome over and check for damage.  The spell on the page it falls open to is something to do with happy dreams.  Ah, clearly he misread earlier and cast this instead of a divination spell.  Of course.  He should try again.  Ensure he’s on the right page, and figure out what fate of Belle’s will take her away.

He definitely means to.  It’s just that a half-finished project catches his attention, and he forgets all about it.  And when it crosses his mind again, the hint of an old tune he only just remembered wanders through his mind, and he decides he doesn’t need to know.  Not yet.

[mastrmiscellaneous]

Capture the Flag

Summary: Clara, Justin, and Lucille play Capture the Flag, and a secret is revealed.

Word Count: 7898

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

The Peters siblings had only been in Camp for a week. Well, five days, but their friend Clara Ostá, an unclaimed girl the same age as Justin, kept saying a week so they eventually just went with it. They had learnt a lot in that time, about themselves, about their new friend, and about the world they lived in.

Justin had picked up Archery extremely quickly, shooting a full twelve arrow round and earning a full mark of 120, all bullseye hits. He had tried to learn how to use a sword, and though he was light on his feet, and was strong and accurate, it just felt unnatural. Especially when he watched Clara. She was basically a master already, easily taking on the best of the best in camp, even when they were much older than her. He had also started training one on one with Chiron, learning how to control his Plague Bearer powers. At first, he thought his powers were awesome, and he felt they made him feel incredibly powerful. However, he had quickly learnt that the exact opposite was true. His cabinmates were openly fearful of him, acting obviously careful around him and hesitating before asking him to participate in anything with them. That was certainly not the best feeling for the boy, but at least he had Clara and Lucille, they did not fear him. Although, his powers were getting stronger, and he was quick in learning how to control and direct them. Justin just kept to himself and practiced his favourite activities in camp.

Lucille was having an amazing time in camp now she had settled in with her new siblings. Her first night in the Hephaestus cabin was rough, being without a familiar face, and the noises of all the machines in the room scared her, but she was comforted by her eldest sibling, Beckendorf, who explained the intricacies of their cabin, and stayed awake by her side until she fell asleep. Lucille liked Beckendorf, he was kind and smart, he helped her in the forge, teaching her how to create machines and weapons, as well as assisting her with organising materials specifically for her. Since most of the tools and drawers were colour coded, and Lucille is unfortunately red-green colour-blind, the special organisation was greatly needed. She loved making things, and she was incredible at it.

Clara was enjoying having some closer friends at camp. She had to admit, she struggled making friends. Over the year she had stayed in camp, she had greatly struggled to get close to people, struggling with adapting to the English language when talking to other demigods, and just generally being awkward around people. She had never been good with people, being home schooled by her uncle back in Greece until she was seven, when her and her mother moved to the USA, where once again she struggled to make friends. She was not used to other kids, and she could not speak English at the time. Once she got to camp, it was much easier to talk to people, Chiron and Mr D being a great platform to have a proper conversation. They had some good alone time together, as she had private lessons with Chiron, Just like Justin.

English was a confusing concept for Clara. She struggled with understanding certain idioms, like the difference between a work week and full week. Her mother had never used those idioms, and her dyslexia made learning English quite the struggle for her, so certain things are much harder for her to wrap her head around than others.

One thing Clara could get her head around though was the concept of her favourite activity in Camp Half Blood: Capture the Flag!

Friday finally came, and Clara bounded out of the Hermes cabin and right over to Justin, who was tiredly emerging from the Apollo cabin, rubbing his eyes to get used to the bright summer morning.

“Kaliméra, Justin!” She half shouted as she jumped to a stop in front of her friend, smiling wide. Evidently, Justin was not used to this level of excitement, somehow, as he fell back in surprise, a very unmanly squeak escaping from his throat as he tripped over the bottom step.

“I’m gonna assume that means good morning.” Justin chuckled as he quickly got back up to his feet, with the help of an apologetic Clara. “What’s got you so happy?”

“You are really going to need to learn Greek at some point.” Clara elbowed Justin in his side, making him squirm. “But not right now! It’s capture the flag night!”

“It’s what now?”

“Michael hasn’t told you?!” Clara was utterly disgusted. How dare he not tell Justin about something so extremely important! Justin shook his head, and she went into a tirade of explaining the game to Justin as they walked to the mess hall for breakfast. Justin seemed quite confused at the whole thing, silently deciding he would ask his cabin mates (he’s still uncomfortable calling them his siblings) at breakfast. He was struggling to follow along with Clara’s explanation, as she kept going on unrelated tangents, and he was pretty sure she was speaking an odd mix of Greek and English, so definitely hard to follow. Eventually they got to the mess hall and parted ways, sitting at their own tables, Justin first heading over to the Hephaestus table to greet Lucille good morning.

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

After Breakfast, Lucille came bounding over to Justin and Clara, who were standing at the base of the stairs leading up to the mess hall. Justin was asking more clear questions about the game tonight, now he fully understood what was happening. Lucille half tackled his brother into a strong hug. Despite the fact that the pair had only been at camp for a week, and that she was only 8 years old, she had grown much stronger from her lessons in the forge. The girl excitedly expressed her interest in the game tonight. The concept was fascinating to her, a mix of the classic game she plays in Phys Ed at school and the battles she heard of in history class. The excitement was overwhelming.

However, Justin’s excitement was depleting at the thought of his baby sister participating in a game as brutal as this, as it was described to him. He promised his mother he would protect her, but apparently he was way in over his head about that. Clara was not help, she just shrugged, explaining everyone took part, it was no big deal. Justin respectfully disagreed on that point.

The boy wanted clarity, so he marched along to the forge with the girls at his heals, with the clear aim of talking to the head of the Hephaestus cabin. He barged into the dark room, cluttered room, bumping into a girl around his age and quickly apologising. Lucille ran off to the end of the room to an oddly neat workbench, the tools organised by type, size, and fit, labelled with symbols that match a chart on the wall. The symbols and chart were clearly not written by Lucille, her handwriting was incredibly messy, and this person’s was quite neat and easy to read. As her companions marched over to her bench, she started fiddling with a device she had been working on, a matt bronze mess of metal and wires, vaguely shaped like the body of a bull, the size of a game controller.

“Lucille, where’s Beckendorf?” Justin asked his sister, but she was already deep in concentration.

“I’m right here.” Sounded the cheerful yet deep voice of the large, eldest child of Hephaestus. Justin turned to face him, relaxing at the comforting smile the cabin leader wore. “You got one hell of a sister here, Peters. She’s an amazing inventor, wonderful with tools! And her ability with magic, wow! Impressive for someone so young!”

The young man’s smile was so sincere, he was certainly incredibly proud of his little sister. He ruffled the girl’s hair, snapping her out of her trance, and she beamed up at him. Justin straightened up and puffed his chest out, making Clara chuckle. She muttered something about him being defensive over his sister. Justin just stood on her foot in retaliation. To be fair to her, his confidence tactic was useless in this case, as he was barely eyeline with the blacksmith’s shoulders.

“I know, Lucy has always been great with tools. You should see her in the shop back home! She’s better at the repairs than mom!” Justin bragged about his sister, making her beam and wiggle happily in her seat.

“I don’t doubt that.” Beckendorf said, glancing between the three with a warm, calculating smile. “What can I do for you?”

Justin suddenly remembered why he was in the forge in the first place.

“Yes! Right...” Justin gathered his thoughts and straightened back up. “I wanted to talk about Capture the Flag...”

“Worried she’ll be caught up in too much action?” Beckendorf crossed his arms and leant back on a cluttered workbench, shifting some miscellaneous tools. Justin nodded, pulling on the hem of his camp shirt. Beckendorf continued, “Understandable. The game can get pretty... intense... however! The Hephaestus cabin tends not to do too much face to face fighting. We make the tools for our team, make traps, that sort of thing.”

“She’ll be out of danger?”

“I’ll make sure of that. She’ll stay by my side. Not just because you’re asking, but because it’s her first game and she’s pretty young, I would also prefer she stays out of the action. For now, at least.”

He said that last part with a wink at Lucille and a smirk. He ruffled her hair once again, and wordlessly passed her a tool, a long and thin thing that looked like a screwdriver that buzzed like it flowed with electricity, which Lucille apparently needed because she immediately continued with her work.

“Well... that seems good then.” Justin immediately felt awkward. It was clear the Hephaestus cabin was very different to the Apollo cabin. These people clearly cared for each other, and protected each other. The Apollo kids, however? Ever since Justin had been told about his status as the Plague Bearer, his cabin mates seemed uncomfortable around him. Like they didn’t want to get close to him. “I can live with that.”

“Great! I’m glad you and Lucy are ok with that. I wouldn’t want to make either of you uncomfortable. You’re her brother too, I respect your opinion.” Gods, how is he this great?

The two talked for another couple minutes, as Clara moved to Lucille’s workbench and talked to her about what she was making. Lucille explained that Beckendorf was teaching her the basics of metalwork and electrics, so she can develop her pre-existing skills with tools and apply it to things like making weapons and armour, devices, anything her gigantic mind could think of. The young inventor clearly had no qualms about bragging, as she presented her draw of already finished products, some magical, some not.

“Beckendorf said I’m special! I can do magic stuff good, and really quick! Even he can’t do what I can!”

This kid has a lot going for her, as long as this level of support and ego was retained.

After a while, Justin and Clara left the two creators to their devices, Beckendorf saying he wanted Lucille to help him with some cool traps for the game tonight. That, and Clara was insisting on taking Justin around and helping him prepare for the game, insisting he was not ready enough. Justin was a little offended by that at first, but as soon as she pointed out he had only been there a few days, and even though he has a good power set, and a near perfect aim with a bow, his practice was minimal and head definitely not prepared for a battle, even a fake one.

Therefore, Clara took him to the arena, which was mostly empty. According to Clara, classes here would not be starting for another two hours, so they had time to tune Justin’s instincts. Now, since Justin did not have ADHD, he did not have the upper hand on a fast-paced battlefield like she did. It was clear Clara had spent years in camp, away from a proper school, because she did not see her Dyslexia and ADHD as something that was annoying or difficult, but as her greatest strength. Well, that, and her intellect. When on the battle field, Clara had the ego of Narcissus, and honestly? She deserved it. She had brought Justin to the arena to train with other weapons, explaining variety was always a strength. It will always improve something, be it your strength, agility, accuracy, or just improve your ability to take in your surroundings. Clara said that was the most important one. If you can take in your surroundings quickly, a plan can be formed just as quick, which is always important when your life is in danger of monsters.

First, Clara sowed Justin how to use a sword. She pulled her camp necklace from under her shirt. It was the same as everyone else’s necklaces, a simple leather chord with a single white clay bead with a golden fleece hanging from a pine tree daintily painted on, a smaller clay bead, more crudely made and only possessed by a couple people at camp, painted a dark blue with a silver bow. There were two other things on her necklace, personal belongings Clara was yet to explain to anyone. One object Justin recognised as a rune, a dark stone oval with chipped, rounded edges, and carved and painted silver in the centre was a symbol; a deep curved line at the top, with a circle in the curve, and a straight line in the middle under the circle, with two lines horizontal under the circle and curve in the middle of the rune, and finally a diagonal line at the end of the vertical line on the left side of the rune. The final object on the necklace was a celestial bronze bar, about an inch long. This is what Clara reached for, pulling it from it’s connector to the chord and spinning in through her fingers. A celestial bronze sword grew with a slash of orange light. It was a simple weapon, about 50cm long, one solid peace of metal, with a leaf shaped blade and a simple trapezoid shaped guard, and a rounded pommel. On the guard was a familiar shaped carving, the same owl design that was painted atop the door of the Athena cabin. It was truly a beautiful weapon.

Clara twirled the sword around as she wandered over to a wrack of weapons, carefully picking out another sword; a simple celestial bronze sword with a black leather grip, about a metre in length. She gestured for Justin to follow her to the centre of the arena and she handed him the second sword.

“So, I know you’ve been focusing on archery and controlling your powers, but having a variety of skills really helps. It means you can at least defend yourself when in a pinch.” She got into a ready position and gestured for him to copy. “Now, I just want you to defend yourself, don’t think about attacking me.”

“Wait, wha-”

Justin could not finish his sentence because Clara had already slashed out with her sword, which he parried clumsily. She may have the shorter weapon, but she sure knew how to use it. She moved with ease, flowing like a dance, but as quick as tornado’s wind. Justin tried to defend himself and get away from her. He jumped over abandoned chariots, stood behind weapon stores, climbed up and down the steps and seats of the arena, and rolled on the floor to avoid her expert attacks. His breath was quick, and heart racing. Justin felt hyper aware about his surroundings, taking in all obstacles and the slightest movements made by Clara, be it her eyes moving or a shift in footing. He felt aware, and felt alive.

Clara tripped Justin and he rolled over, landing on one knee. She slashed her sword down in a diagonal line, and Justin let his instincts take over. He slashed his sword in the opposite direction with all the force he could muster. The swords collided, bronze on bronze, sparks flying and forcing Clara’s hand backwards, making her stumble back a step. Justin leapt to his feet and held the point of his sword under her chin.

Both of them were breathing long, tired breaths. Clara smiled at Justin, proud of her student. Justin chuckled and dropped his sword away from her chin, pointing it at the floor.

“So,” Clara spun the sword and it shrank back to the one inch bar that she reattached to her necklace charm. “How do you feel?”

Justin thought for a second, still smiling. “Alive... Energised. That’s the most aware I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Good. Now, in a real battle, you should try and fight back, but this exercise develops consciousness. Being aware of your surroundings. What a true warrior needs to survive.”

“I can tell! That was,” Justin made a vague, excited gesture. “wow! How di you know all this stuff?”

Justin regretted asking that question as soon as the last word left his lips. Her proud, excited expression shifted quickly. She looked down at her feet, letting her long, dark hair fall in front of her face, and she fiddled with the rune on her necklace.

“My mama taught me...” Clara took Justin’s sword and wandered off to put it back on the wrack. Then, she walked over to the stands and sat down, slumped over and leaning her elbows on her thighs. Justin sat beside her and checked to see if she was ok. She instead explained what was wrong.

“I haven’t seen my mamá for a year know. We had some problems… Mamá is very similar to a demigod. Attracts monsters, has fought a lot. She has a duty to Olympus she will not rest on. She has a pretty rough past, too, so living with her is… hard. She has her issues. that, along with moving across the world to a place I didn’t speak the language, and my powers and increasingly growing monster attacks, it just got tense at home. One day, I got a letter from my father, telling me to come here. I felt bad at home, so I left.”

Clara sighed, her shoulders sagged, and she took in a long, shaky breath. She sat up straight, brushed her hair out of her face, and attempted to be subtle as she wiped tears away from her eyes and released her breath.

“She used to train with me. She’s the one who taught me how to fight, how to use a sword. Everything I know about the ancient world, the gods, monsters, I learnt from her. I just miss her is all…”

Justin could only sit there and listen. This was something he had never anticipated. Sure, he knew a good deal of the demigods here in camp either had no mortal parent or family, or just simply did not have a good relationship with their family. He expected Clara to be the same. Just, he did not expect this exact situation.

“She knows I’m safe. I’ve called her a couple times since coming here. Not often though.”

She sniffed and shifted in her seat, hugging her legs and resting her head on her knees. Justin had no idea of what to do. Emotions were not something he was good with. He could write them into a song, but comforting someone who wasn’t Lucille? It’s a stretch. He needed to learn how to do that. So he asked a question instead.

“You said she’s similar to a demigod. What’s that mean?”

Clara inhaled sharply, as if she had forgotten she said that and revealed something she shouldn’t have. She laughed awkwardly and looked at Justin, panicking to think of an excuse.

“Well, you know- you know how your mom can see through the mist? it’s basically like that!” Clara laughed awkwardly, voice higher pitched, and her accent flaring up strong.

“My mom is far from a demigod.” Justin said monotonously. “Impressive, sure. She also fought Mormo, but I would not compare her to a demigod. What’s really going on?”

Clara gulped deep, and sighed, once again fiddling with her necklace. She mumbled to herself in Greek. Justin caught the odd word, it sounded like she was cursing herself out because of her slip up. Finally, she looks at him again and explained.

“It’s complicated. you know I come from Athens, moved here when I was seven. My family is an ancient one, dating back in the record for a little under three thousand years. When the Romans started invading Greece, the gods feared for the safety of their secrets, and Lady Athena proposed a plan. Grant a family of mortals clear sight, give them her blessing, and a job to protect the secrets of Olympus, items of importance to the gods, titans, heroes, and monsters. Kinda like a librarian with access to weapons. That is what my mamá is. A Guardian of Athens, Kidemonás, champion of Athena. The job brought a lot of… issues for mamá. I am one too.”

All Justin could do was hum a sound that vaguely sounded like ‘woah’. That was certainly not something he expected. Clara panicked and continued.

“It’s supposed to be a secret. No one, not even demigods, know about the Guardians, or the Chambers we guard. it is too dangerous. you can not tell anyone about this! I should not even told you!”

“Ok!” Justin blurted out. “Ok, I won’t tell anyone. I promise. I swear on the Styx I won’t share this secret.”

Clara’s blue eyes went wide. she was shocked he would go to that length, as to swear on the Styx for her. It’s extreme, he could get hurt if her told. Suddenly, she launched at him and engulfed her in a tight hug, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

“Thank you…”

“No problem. anything to make you feel safe.”

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

Soon enough, after Clara and Justin had continued their training for another two hours, fine tuning Justin’s instincts and physical abilities, practicing his war archery and quick shooting, lunch was going to be served and classes start up in the arena soon. So, the two friends excited the arena and went to their cabins to change their shirts and have a clean to rid themselves of sweat before eating. They finished up a little early and went to the forge to watch Lucille work.

They reached the forge and got a few non-serious glares from the children of Hephaestus. Justin was incredibly confused by this, but Clara explained it was because this week the Hephaestus Cabin was on the Red team for Capture the Flag, whilst the Hermes and Apollo Cabins were on the Blue team. They’re just playing around with a friendly rivalry.

Lucille was very eager to show off her work of the day. She and Beckendorf had made a crude wind-up bronze bull. The metal was awkward and scuffed, and the movements were very robotic, but it was incredible work for an eight-year-old. The four demigods got to talking, telling Justin and Lucille about the team system, each cabin’s general rolls in the game, and Beckendorf giving a purposefully vague description of what they were planning for the night. All Justin and Clara knew was they had some interesting toys to play with this evening.

It was not long before the horn announcing lunch sounded throughout the camp. They made their way to the mess hall, and Justin spent his lunch watching his friend and sister. Clara seemed pretty comfortable at the Hermes table. She knew a lot of people, she talked and laughed with them, though the sadness in her eyes left behind from the conversation about her mother never truly left. Lucille was incredibly happy with her table. She laughed and bounced in her seat, eagerly talking about whatever was on her mind with her siblings, and they all engaged well with her. He loved that she was happy.

Although Justin was happy for the girls in his life, he was also incredibly jealous. His cabin mates were not the most fun to be with. At least, they were with him. His power, his curse, scared them. As it should, Justin had been learning to control his power with Chiron, and the centaur had said he was incredibly powerful, more powerful than any Plague Bearer he had seen through the centuries. Justin did not mind his power, he thought it was pretty cool, as long as he can control it. The only thing he didn’t like was the fear and stigma from most people it brought.

After a long, quiet lunch, Justin met back up with Clara and Lucille for a quick chat before Lucille was swept away back to the forge to make devices for the game. Justin explained to Clara he would love to continue training, but he has a private lesson with Chiron now, but he offered to let her watch so she wasn’t alone. She accepted, and tagged along, Chiron in his full centaur glory leading the pair to a large opening in the woods, far from anyone else, the sounds of the camp distant and quiet.

Chiron was particularly sharp today, warning Justin that even though he has learnt quickly the past few days, he needed to make sure to control himself else he could seriously hurt someone. Chiron was pleased Clara had tagged along, asking if she would be ok with sparing with Justin so he could learn to keep his cool under attack. Clara agreed, removing her sword from its hidden form on her necklace, and Chiron handed Justin the bow he had been using and a quiver filled with celestial bronze arrows. They spared for a while, Chiron giving orders, telling Justin how to relax his muscles and mind whilst also keeping his guard up when being attacked. After an hour, Chiron stopped the fight and beckoned Clara to come close, and he bent down to whisper in her ear. Clara looked shocked at first, but smirked when she made eye contact with her friend.

“If you insist.” She said. The tone of her voice mixed with her accent made him shudder.

“Justin, we will be turning up the heat now. Clare will be using a… special power of hers to make the fight more intense.” Chiron nodded at the pair to get into sparing position. “Remember, stay relaxed, think clearly, keep your breath steady. Now, go.”

Justin nocked an arrow, and started to freak out when he looked up at Clara. Her normally icy blue eyes were now a silvery storm grey, a faint silvery blue glow encased her body, a little brighter around her right shoulder. she had a stormy, terrifying look to her. The contrast between her dark skin, the pale aura surrounding her, and the grey eyes was startling. Her playful smirk had disappeared, replaced by a tight straight lip, her eyebrows furrowed tight and her eyes in a fixed steel glare. It looked unnatural, her eyes usually darted about, taking in her surroundings, but the fixed eye contact she held now was unmoving. Her grip on her sword was so tight her knuckles paled, her muscles tensed. She charged.

Her speed was unmatched, and ferocity insane, and it was nothing like how she fought that morning. She was incredible then, but this? This was outstanding, terrifying, pure ability and skill. Justin struggled to keep up with her, his need to take an arrow from his quiver, nock it, pull back, aim, and loose was just too much to do when she was so quick and strong. His emotions and stress were flaring up, and Chiron could see it. He yelled to the boy to remain calm, keep steady, he can fight it, but Justin struggled to believe that. He was so new to this, and Clara was just too good. His stress was getting stronger and strong until finally…

He ran out of arrows.

Justin panicked, and instinct took over. He turned to Clara and caught her charging. He reached out and flexed his fingers. Clara stopped. Choked.

Justin had put her into a major coughing fit. A minor affliction, but enough to stop her surge. The glow of her power flickered and dimmed, eventually disappearing altogether, her eyes turning back to their normal ice blue. She dropped her sword, keeling over coughing, barely able to catch her breath between fits. Justin panicked, relaxing his hand and repeatedly muttering a sentence Chiron told him to repeat in times like this.

“Don’t hurt them, let them go.”

Clara finally stopped coughing, gasping for breath and dropping to her knees, panting heavily. Chiron trotted over to her and knelt down, placing a hand on her back and giving her a water bottle Justin could not figure out where he was keeping. She attempted to catch her breath, and sipped the water bottle for a couple minutes, and Justin just stood there, panicking. He really did not mean to hurt his friend, and he really hoped she would not hate him after this.

He almost jumped to the ground in front of her once he regained his composure. He worriedly checked on her and asked questions, making sure she was ok and knew he did not mean it. After a couple minutes, Clara regained her composure and smiled at Justin.

“Dude, that was awesome.”

“What?” Justin said, shocked.

“I knew Plague Bearers were powerful, but wow! That was rough! you can do better? So cool.”

Justin stared at her blankly for a moment and burst out laughing. “You are so weird.”

Clara shrugged and giggled to herself, “Yeah, but you like it!”

The pair laughed for a moment, ignoring the strange, confused stares Chiron was shooting them. Clara lightly coughed between laughs, but overall was recovering pretty well. Chiron dismissed the pair and told them to relax and regain themselves before Capture the Flag.

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

Justin and Clara sat at a table in the middle of the horseshoe of cabins, a bit of a distance from the basketball court. They talked lightly as they regained their strength, Justin consistently apologising and making sure she was ok, which was met with a lot of eye rolling and insistence that she is ok. She’s a fighter, she’ll be fine. They remained like this until finally Justin gave in to his urge and finally asked what that power was.

Clara chuckled and reminded Justin of the conversation they had that morning about the Guardians of Athens, then went on to remind him Athena offered to bless the mortals set to protect the Chambers. That power was part of the blessing. It enhances her senses and abilities. Clara explained that it felt like time slowed down, so she could take in details of the battle field and react quicker. She explained that the blessing resided in a mark on her skin, a pale birth mark on the back of her right shoulder in the shape of an Athenian coin. A pale circle, with the same owl shape that was carved into her sword, above the owl to the right was an olive branch, and beside it on the edge of the circle the letters AOE on the left side. When she activated her blessing, it would glow a blueish silver, the blessing changed her eye colour to that of Athena herself, and the aura encased her body. She had learnt how to control it vaguely when she was with her mother, but Chiron and Mr D had given her private lessons on her family’s position and the powers she held. Well, her Guardianship was the main focus of her lessons, she was also taught how to control her other powers, the ones she inherited from her unknown father. She refused to tell Justin about them. He let it go.

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

The games were finally beginning. Dinner was shorter than usual, the excited demigods eager to fight each other in the woods at night whilst also attempting to locate, steal, and escape with a long piece of red or blue cloth.

On the blue team, they had the Athena, Apollo, Hermes, and Demeter cabins. Justin was pleased her was on Clara’s team, she could explain things to him better than anyone in his cabin, at least. On the red team was the Ares, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, and Dionysus cabins.

Before the two teams separated and marched off to the woods, shouting war cries and praying for glory, everyone was given armour and weapons. Justin realised he would never get used to metal armour. He struggled with the straps on the shoulders, Clara having to fix it for him, so it did not hang off his body. She also adjusted the straps on his sides, muttering to herself that he had a lot to learn. Her armour was perfect, tight yet moveable, no hanging straps and just enough space between her body and armour to fit two fingers in. Absolutely perfect. Justin could not help but admire Clara’s perfection in this. She had clearly been doing this for a long time, everything came so easy to her. Though Justin could chalk this up to her connection with Athena (as he understood it, her whole thing was cleverness and being good in battle, so Justin guessed it would pass down to her kids, and by extension a Guardian like Clara), Justin chose to believe that she was just that good. She looked amazing too, her armour fit her perfectly, and not just because she knew how to wear it. In her usual clothes, like her camp shirts or the sweaters she wore, he could not really notice anything about her, except perhaps her toned bronze arms, that he definitely didn’t stare at, no way! However, in the armour, he could see her figure, as her armour fit perfectly around her. Her armour was clearly made for her, as she had a fortified shoulder guard on her left, and it was flexible around her body, partially leather, partially metal. Obviously, she still had a lot of developing to do, but she was already beautiful. Anyone could tell that she was going to be an absolute looker, mistakable for a daughter of Aphrodite, when she was older. It fit around her toned body nicely. She quickly tightened her armguards and pulled out her camp necklace before looking at Justin properly.

In short, the boy was a mess. Clara had to hold in a bit of laughter looking at him. his skinny, untrained form struggled to fit into any armour properly. This size fit the best, but still not great, as Justin was rather tall for his age, so the armour made for his height also provided room for some muscle, and the size down didn’t reach low enough to cover his whole torso, so there was no hope in finding anything perfect until he toned up a bit. Luckily, since he is an archer, he was allowed to wear mostly leather armour, so it didn’t look as bad as it would if it were metal. Especially when he put his quiver over his shoulder, that fit much better and tightened his leather vest. As she stepped back to look at her work, She did notice his awkward smile, and his drumming fingers on the riser of his bow, and acknowledged that behind the cluelessness and idiocy was a skilled and intelligent and cute guy. Not cute as in she liked him! cute like he’s a lost puppy. yes, that.

Lucille, on the other hand, was a hilarious sight to behold. They clear did not have armour small enough for her, so she remained helmetless, and her too-big chest plate hung off her body, Justin wondered how she would be quiet and sneaky with the amount it shifted when she moved, and she was moving a lot. Her excitement was showing incredibly, she bounced on her feet and had her gloved hands balled into fists, shaking them in front of her chest, her toothy smile beaming in the evening light. She stood beside Beckendorf, who had a sack slung over his shoulder, his other hand on her shoulder and talking to Clarisse, the Red Team’s leader as the head councillor of the Ares Cabin.

Finally, the two teams set off, dividing and heading off to their chosen base. The blue team headed to the North Woods, finally stopping about 50 yards away from the beech. The cabin leaders split off and gave out tasks. The Athena cabin was to split in half, team A moving along the forest line across the beech, and team B loop around the other end, towards Zeus’ Fist. That was apparently the most likely place for the Ares cabin to put their flag. The Apollo and Hermes Cabins were to combine and work together, splitting into groups of two, one from each cabin, and those groups would be split in half, team 1 being defence, and team 2 being sent straight ahead as a diversion attack. Finally, the Demeter cabin were to stay with the flag, using their plant manipulation to protect the prize.

Justin and Clara teamed up, and were sent away to the middle of the forest, adjacent to Zeus’ Fist and across the river. The two plant themselves hidden in a relatively thick section of the woods, sitting back-to-back, looking into two different clearings. They sat in silence for a while, listening and watching for movement, ready to battle despite the fact the game hadn’t officially been called to start yet. They still had a couple minutes for that. but they could never be careful, especially if someone else decided this was a good spot to hide. Finally, they heard the horn sound in the distance. The game begins.

Clara and Justin listened out for any sound coming close, Justin had an arrow knocked in preparation, a knife strapped to his side in case he needed a close combat weapon. Clara had drawn her heirloom sword, holding it close to her chest in hopes of hiding it in the bushes. Not soon after the horn blasted, the pair heard footsteps nearby their hiding spot. Well, Clara heard them and infirmed Justin. Her battle senses where a lot stronger than his. Whether that was a Guardian thing or something she inherited from her father, she wouldn’t know. Clara glared into the near distance, waiting for any sign of movement, Justin followed her gaze and readied his bow. He had a pretty good shot from where he was.

A positive: Clara was right, someone was indeed coming towards them.

A negative: ‘someone’ actually meant seven people. a small group compared to the entirety of the Red team, and Justin had never been too good at math, but he was pretty sure seven was more than two.

the team consisted of three Ares kids and two Hephaestus kids. Five strong and skilled demigods against one amazing swordsman and a novice archer. Sounds like a fair fight.

Clara quietly pulled out an arrow from Justin’s quiver, and pulled out a ball of strong from the gods only know where. she tied the end to underneath the flights of the arrow and looked at the path the Red Team demigods were walking on. She muttered to Justin,

“Shoot that log there.”

Justin complied, silently shooting at the log with the arrow she had modified. The team of five jumped a little at the sudden sound.

“What was that?”

“Who’s there?!”

“Come on guys, it was probably just a squirrel or something. it’s gone now, and do you see anyone? let’s just get this flag.”

And at that, the five walked in the direction of Justin’s arrow. Just when the five were two feet away, Clara pulled tight on the string, and the front two kids tripped, faceplanting the dirt. the other three readied their weapons and the tripped two attempted to get up, but Justin acted fast, quickly knocking and arrow and shooting at them, the arrow digging into the sleave of the first guy’s tshirt, pinning him to the ground. The other one got to his feet, but was only in a crouched position by the time Justin had knocked another arrow and loosed, catching his baggy shorts, and knocking him down. The other three locked onto the bush Justin and Clara were hiding in, and Clara took her chance. She charged, brandishing her sword, and attacked the three. Now, for any normal fighter, this would be a terrible decision. A suicide mission, in fact. But Clara is no normal fighter. once the three had realised what happened, Clara had tripped one, who rolled back onto their front and jumped back to their feet, but she had moved on to the next, quickly disarming him, then onto the third, who put up a good fight. The second guy, an Ares kid, picked his sword back up and charged, but Justin leapt out of the bush with an arrow knocked and quickly loosed, the arrow reaching its mark in the blade of the sword, pushing his arm to the side so he didn’t hit Clara. He charged to the guy Clara tripped, a Hephaestus kid, and kicked his back, pulling an arrow out of his quiver and stabbing it into the ground through his loose tshirt. The last Ares kid fighting Clara was putting up one hell of a fight, the two experienced warriors matching each other’s energy perfectly. That was, until the Ares kid tripped Clara. She rolled to the side, avoiding the blad that was stabbed into the ground, and when she landed on her feet, she smirked. Her ice blue eyes glowed a stormy grey, and her shoulder lit up under her fortified armour, the light quickly encasing her whole body.

Her Blessing of Athena.

The Ares kid looked panicked; he had clearly seen this before. Though his unearned confidence quickly returned, and he attacked, slashing his sword down on Clara, who parried with so much force, the kid was knocked backwards. Clara leapt to her feet, swinging her sword around to build momentum and beating down at the guy, who could only stumble backwards and block as many attacks as he could. Clara was far too fast and far stronger than this guy, and it showed. Far sooner than the Ares kid wanted, Clara disarmed him. Shooting his word into the trunk of a tree, she tripped him, slashed at his chest plate, knocking him with more force into the floor, and winding him horribly. Soon, the whole team was pinned to the ground, winded, or just given up. Clara laughed a little, looking down at her work, and acknowledging the arrows pinning people.

“We make a good team!” Clara said cockily, her eyes returning to normal, and her glow fading.

“Yeah. yeah, we do.” Justin said, a light blush filling his cheeks.

“Come on, let’s go find more groups.”

At that, the two ran away in the same direction, back towards their team’s flag, in a quest to find more people to fight. Justin was starting to see why Clara loved this so much. It was incredibly invigorating.

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

Clara and Justin truly were an amazing team. The managed to take down two more groups soon after their initial fight, using Clara’s blessing, her strange, mysterious powers inherited from her unknown father, and Justin’s insane accuracy and a limited version of his new powers. Somehow, Justin managed to control himself enough to just give his opponents a bit of vertigo, enough to make it easy to knock them down with a slight push, and they would not be getting up for a little while. The two were energised, ready for anything, and perfectly in sync. The two dashed off after their second battle and stopped in a small clearing to catch their breath.

“You’re doing good, Peters!” Clara panted smiling wide, her eyes now permanently grey her energy rises. “Improved a lot, you’re gonna be an amazing warrior after more training!”

“Thanks.” Justin said through deep breath and a wide smile. “You’re pretty awesome yourself.”

The two smiled softly at each other, but that smile dropped immediately when they both felt a metal clamp around their legs. The initial contact hit Justin’s left leg, and a split second after wrapping around his right. The opposite happened for Clara. The two saw a celestial bronze wire shoot up from the ankle clamps and attach to a branch on a tree, then shooting the two upwards and stopping quickly, leaving them hanging from the branch.

“What the-”

The two heard a familiar little giggle, and a more booming chuckle they recognised.

“You two walked right into our trap!” Beckendorf walked out of the shadows with a bouncing Lucille at his side.

“Lucy??” Justin exclaimed, slightly laughing along with his sister, impressed at her work.

“Caught you!” She exclaimed, pulling her tongue out at her big brother.

“Yeah, you did.” Justin Smiled at Lucille, then looked to Beckendorf, who had his arms crossed and looking between the girl and their captives, clearly proud. “Did you make these?”

“I helped! It was super cool!”

“She did really well.” Beckendorf said. “She’s an amazing worker.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“Hey!” Clara exclaimed, a little annoyed but mostly joking around with them. “Can you let us down?”

“Go on Lucy, what do we do if we let them down?” Beckendorf patted her shoulder and she looked up at him, reminding herself of the script she had been given. She stopped fighting and puffed her little chest out, trying to put on a serious face, but she was still so happy for succeeding, her serious face breaking into a smile.

“Only if you…” she paused for a moment, to think. “Surrender! and be our prisoner!”

“Oh, that’s the deal, huh?” Clara smiled. “Are you up for a compromise?”

“Depends on what it is.” Beckendorf shrugged.

“Let us go, you run off, we wait a minute before also making a move.”

“No deal. Looks like you’re gonna be swinging there for a while!” He said in a sing-song manner.

“Then what do you propose?”

“We let you go, but you betray your team and join us.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that.”

Justin attempted to gulp; Clara was really screwing with their chance to escape. But just before Beckendorf could respond, three Red Team soldiers ran past holding the Blue flag.

“Looks like you’re going to be hanging there for a bit.” Beckendorf smiled cockily and chuckled. He turned to Lucille, “Hey Lucille, guard these two for me?”

Lucille nodded enthusiastically, and Beckendorf ran off shouting back to Lucille to remember how to release them.

“You do know how to release us, right?” Justin said, unsure.

Lucille just sat down, staring at her brother and friend, and needed, taking out a small remote and waving it in the air. “Just have to press one button… umm… I think this one?”

“Lucille!!”

[crunchykiwibby]

Kiwi Corner: Nostalgia and Reboots

This is a long and lengthy post.

TLDR; I was talking about my feelings.

When I was growing up, I watched a lot of cartoons and TV. But there was one media that I was attached to and was fond of, retro cartoons. I loved watching Boomerang and seeing cartoons I wasn't able to see. I was a growing history kid also so you can understand where that also came into play. However there was one of my favorite type of era of cartoons I loved- the 80s Cartoons.

The most cheesy era. But when I watched them, they somewhat and somehow made sense...even now. Somethings were outdated but it was interesting none the less. My favorites where obviously the most well known which were Jem and the Holograms, Captain Planet, He-Man, Thundercats, BraveStar, and She-Ra. Those shows had me in a hold when I was a little kid in my room playing with little pet shops with my tv with it's little antenna on Qubo all night to the new place cable television and the Hub ( which is now Discovery Family currently but it used to be my favorite channel when I was in first grade as Discovery Kids with the Magic School Bus, Grossology, Growing up Creepie, etc.) and I seen the Thundercats reboot when I was little on Cartoon Network which wasn't my speed at the time cause I was 9-11 at the time and I still enjoyed watching Winx Club and watching Tinga Tinga Tales ( a show about African folktales, I want that show to be rebooted but not 3D though fully 2D).

But since I'm older I had some appreciation for it cause I understood the route it was going but also I realized that I was much like, " Wowww okay.", and changed the channel.

Then later on the years reboot quiet, I learn about another reboot Voltron. It was interesting! It was sharp and smooth talked about dark topics and then fell later seasons but it was good if you ignored the fanbase and the stories and enjoyed it on your own. Until I learned about the She-Ra reboot.

Now, back then I was excited. The art style through me off of course but I was like hey! It could be a sorta like a love letter to the show! Or even better made She-Ra known for its epic prowess! But of course was I hurt over the fact people made fun of the 80s original? Yeah, obviously. I grew up with it but also I was someone who enjoyed camp and the crazy ridiculousness of it which was the charm and added to the top of the action and plotline.

Then I saw the skirts with shorts discourse. Which I felt was silly because I thought it wasn't a huge deal because it was shorts and a skirt. It was practical and more appealing to today's audience cause you know life and whatever so that didn't bother me.

Then I watched it.

And it disappointed me. Oddly enough.

Because I was expecting She-Ra to get the Voltron treatment art wise, then I was expecting to be wowed the first episode. The only thing I enjoyed was Bow...even then I wondered. Why was I disappointed? It was popular with the Tumblr fanbase, Twitter, and it was popular amongst my friends. So why didn't I like it? At first I thought it was my petty reason.

Like oh it was the art style.

But then I reflected more and more. But I gave up until I watched Masters of the Universe Revelation today and I realized- white feminism. Just kidding it wasn't that at all. It was just the and the emotional part of me. Because the thing was is that, it felt off. I felt kind of like I needed to like it and something felt missing. It had everything! The colors, the plot, and everything. But it was the fact that the original had a certain charm that it had that I felt the reboot lacked. Then it further made me not wanting to give the show another chance from the racially charged joke that was made so it further made me side eye it further. Because one yes there is black farmers but in the context being spoken it came off and it rubbed me the wrong way.

When I first thought of a She-Ra reboot, I wanted it to still had the feminine elements of the show but it carried a level of maturity that wasn't being held back. That's what I wanted. I wanted She-Ra to not be held back. I wanted to see more. Things not being cut or held back from DreamWorks. I wanted She-Ra to simply grow with me.

So that's what made me like Masters of the Universe. It grew with me. I wasn't impacted too harshly when the main person which was He-Man was gone because I knew what I was signing up for and I was also much wanting to see Teela as well because in the original I was curious about her. And it just oddly felt, right? It had the 80s art in the beginning and the epic cheesy eighties and it was aesthically pleasing! There wasn't anything forced to stay and there was a lore tap in. It had things that I wanted.

And it made me miss what She-Ra could've been...

I wanted them seem connected...imagine the powerhouse it could've been..

But what's done is done. And honestly. I don't think She-Ra was better than He-man I think they were both great. Amazing. I felt robbed and wronged. But if you liked She-Ra good on you and if you didn't good on you.

It's not my business, you do you!

[farfromsugafanfic]

Pas de Deux

Genre: Nutcracker AU, Swan Lake AU, slight Fantasy AU

Pairing: Jimin/Reader

Warnings: mild depictions of violence

Synopsis: When you were just a baby, Herr Drosselmeyer cured your feet. Becoming a dancer, some believe your ability is related to his magic. Even your dance partner, Jimin. Herr Drosselmeyer comes the Christmas Eve night before your performance in Swan Lake, a turning point in your career. After a frustrating rehearsal where you and Jimin couldn’t get the lift right, you find that the nutcracker gifted to you by Herr Drosselmeyer may be just as magical as the man himself.

Note: Hello, Tumblr! I’m Alyce and I normally write on Wattpad, but I decided to start crossposting my imagines and one shots here. And, maybe move towards making Tumblr my main platform. Bear with me as I learn how to use Tumblr. I may change up things or make some mistakes (such as the dividers in this post are likely not centered lmao. Enjoy!

✦✧✦✧

Your godfather only came into your life every few years. He always brought with him gifts from around the world, little worlds on their own. You remembered how on your eleventh birthday he brought you marzipan from Germany, alpaca wool mittens from South America, and sesame snaps from China. He had not come to visit since, although you'd heard of him throughout the years.

He'd made the emperor of Japan disappear for ten minutes. Your godfather turned sawdust into wooden planks in America. But, most famously, your godfather mended your feet.

✦✧✦✧

You were born on the night before Christmas Eve. Snowdrifts reached the eaves and your father had spent most of the day shoveling the door while your mother cried out. Her labor had begun in the early hours of the morning, but neither the doctor nor you had arrived by evening.

The doctor arrived after dark and Herr Drosselmeyer appeared just before ten o'clock. Herr Drosselmeyer rarely attended births in the village, but your mother, despite her sweaty brow and exhaustion cried out when she saw the man.

Herr Drosselmeyer rarely attended births in the village. His abilities were better suited for other matters. Yet, occasionally, a child was born that summoned the magician. Most believed that destiny controlled the man, a truly divine being on Earth. If you asked Drosselmeyer, he would say that he knew all along where he would end up, but there was always a glint in his eye that told otherwise. The man's excitement and surprise astounding even himself.

"I feel your child will dance," your future godfather said. "One of the best dancers in the land. I have no idea why such a thing should concern me." He stood in the corner of the room, his height caused the crown of his head to nearly touch the ceiling.

You were born about a half hour after Herr Drosselmeyer's arrival. Your parents relaxed as you began crying nearly immediately. Their fears that the magician's appearance meant your death or eternal ill health ceased.

"A girl," the doctor said. He cleaned you off and he brought the rag down to your feet and paused. "Herr Drosselmeyer, I believe I understand why this child requires your presence."

Your parents, the doctor, and the magician gathered around you. You already had sprigs of thick hair that stood up on your head and your eyes were wide as if you were trying to memorize the four faces in front of your own.

Your mother gasped when she saw your feet. They curled in on themselves and each toe was crooked at a different angle. You didn't seem to notice, no pain crossing your features as the doctor felt your bone structure.

"The child will certainly never walk," the doctor said. "She's lacking many bones of the foot and I suspect her muscles would never fully develop this way."

Your parents looked to the magician who looked down at you with the same interest he would study characters of an unfamiliar language. His hands replaced the doctor's, except that he placed his palm flat against your heel, the only part of your foot that appeared intact.

"Your observations were astute," he said to the doctor. "But, this child will dance one day, not just walk."

✦✧✦✧

For the first two years of your life, you're told that Herr Drosselmeyer visited you every week. He would place his palms against your heal and close his eyes. You never cried at his touch. Most of the time you simply looked up at him with wide, clear eyes.

For the first few months, he would place his hand against your tiny, slow-growing foot. No magic appeared to take place, but he told your parents he was gaining an understanding of how your bones worked. How they curled in on each other and formed intricate spirals. They were as fragile as a horse's leg, a break of one bone would mean losing all the others.

When you were five months old, it was the middle of spring and you always smiled at Herr Drosselmeyer's appearance. It was most likely because of the chorus of violins that played from the music box he'd gifted you on your first Christmas when you were just two days old. It played music whenever he arrived.

At that visit, what looked like thick, red liquid passed from Drosselmeyer's hands and wrapped around your fragile foot. There were no visible changes until you were one year old when the arch of your foot became visible. You had unusually high arches with the peak of your arch not touching the ground if you laid it flat on the ground.

As expected, you did not start walking at the usual time. You tried, your formed heels and arches allowed you to stand, but your curled toes and balls sent you toppling over whenever you tried to take your first step. Whenever this happened, your mother would rush towards you and make you promise to never try again, yet, you always did.

✦✧✦✧

Just before your second birthday, your parents took you to see the orchestra. As the music started, you sat forward in your chair, your feet kicking outwards. The horns and the flutes and the harp hypnotized you. You hardly realized when your arms swung above your head and you landed on your heels in front of your seat.

Your mother reached for you, but something stopped her as she noticed the natural way you found balance on your heels like a flamingo in water. Surely, balancing on the back of your feet was not the standard form or practice, but there was grace as you brought your left foot up above your shoulder. If you'd had toes, they would've been at a perfect point.

Herr Drosselmeyer came a few days later on your second birthday. As usual, he laid his hands against your arch and heel, the red colored magic encompassing your foot. This time the ball of your foot formed, only your toes remained at odd, crooked angles.

After his treatment, he presented you with the first present you remember receiving. He'd wrapped it in a petite box and it was wrapped in a silk cloth. You opened the box and unwrapped the cloth to reveal a wooden nutcracker.

The nutcracker was about a foot tall. He wore a green colored uniform and black tufts of hair stuck out from beneath his soldier's cap. You looked at his wooden skin and blue eyes, not having the vocabulary to explain how beautiful you thought he was. That night, your mother placed him on your vanity and he stood guard over your bed for the years to come.

✦✧✦✧

Jimin's hands touched your waist as he lifted you higher than you could jump during the first lift of the pas de deux. The move was simple. Jimin holding your waist and lifting you as you lifted your legs in a flowing motion You'd completed it plenty of times with other dancers. Yet, every time his hands brushed your waist, you landed hard on the heel of your foot, occasionally feeling your knee knock, threatening dislocation.

"Damn it, Y/N," Jimin said, "if we can't do this how are we going to dance at all." He ran his hand through his hair. "You need to get a hold of yourself. Focus on the landing."

You scoffed. "I am! You're holding me too tightly!" To prove him wrong, you performed the move on your own, leaping in the air with your legs out in front of you. You landed on your right foot and performed a pirouette only to show that it couldn't possibly be you.

"Your shoes don't even fit right," he said, gesturing down to your ill-fitting pointe shoes. "That's probably causing all of this."

You stayed silent, knowing that he brought up a solid point. Every night you soaked your bruised, raw feet in warm water and soothing salts, sometimes falling asleep in the chair. Pointe shoes needed to fit well, if not for the quality of the dance than to spare the dancer's feet. Every ballerina knew the perils of aching feet and blisters, but non-fitting pointe shoes only made them worse.

"I'm working on it," you said, sitting down beside him and doing some stretches. "You know it's not exactly easy finding shoes that fit."

While your godfather mended your feet by the time you turned four and could begin ballet, pointe shoes never fit completely right. Sometimes, when you pushed yourself too far during practice, you'd see your toes curl inward and you'd feel panic rise in your chest until you were able to extend them on your own.

Jimin didn't say anything more, but you suspected he didn't quite believe you. All of your fellow dancers knew of Herr Drosselmeyer and how he had fixed your feet. Some believed that he was the one who was responsible for your talent, your grace. That when he mended your feet he'd somehow infused an inherent gift for ballet.

You weren't sure where Jimin stood on the rumors. While you were certain that he held some resentment for you, he'd never contested you gaining the lead opposite him in Swan Lake.

"Let's start from the beginning," you said. "We have to get the pas de deux right." You stood up and took the beginning stance, waiting for Jimin to join you. This was the moment that the audience realized that Prince Seigfried is being deceived when Odile is introduced, when the true reality of the story begins to unfold. What starts as a love story becomes a tragedy.

He stood across the room from you and the music started. You bounded towards each other as the choreography dictated. Everything went smoothly as you approached the first lift. Jimin's hands came to your waist and the move was completed. Yet, you still came down a bit too hard on your feet. While you should vary the technique to play the black swan, hinting to the audience the difference in character. Even so, your technique should still be good. You should still appear graceful and lithe like a swan, not coming down too hard on your feet.

"Fuck," you said, leaning down to massage your feet through your slippers. You tied them tighter and adjusted the fit. "Let's go again."

The music started and you ran towards each other again. The familiar feel of Jimin's hands on your waist and the gentle grip as he lifted you in the air. You landed softer this time, albeit it not with complete grace.

"Opening night is in two days, Y/N."

"You don't think I know that?" You sighed and unfurled your hair from its tight bun. "This is the most important dance of the entire ballet. I understand the stakes, Jimin."

Ballet was about pushing your body to its limits. Feeling like your entire body would snap back like a rubber band, your vision going fuzzy because you felt dizzy from turning so many times, your knees constantly bruised. You were going to get this right, get over whatever was causing you not to land a simple lift. You tied your hair back up, tighter this time and glanced over to Jimin.

"Let's practice the other lifts," you said. "We need to make sure we have them all." He nodded as the two of you took your places on opposite sides of the room. You still landed a little shaky on the first lift, but it was getting better. The two subsequent lifts were simpler and you and Jimin completed them without issue.

Yet, the rest of the lifts were more complicated. As you danced on your own while Jimin rounded the room, you dreaded the next one, the one where he lifts you high with his arms completely extended. You needed to have enough force on your jump or else Jimin's arms would wobble. While you required his arms to stabilize you, you were responsible for a majority of the lift.

You leaped into the air with Jimin's hands on your waist, feeling his grip tighten as you reached the peak of your jump and extended your leg outward. As the descent started, you began to shake and Jimin's fingers loosened, sending you tumbling down on top of him.

His chest rose against yours as he huffed and grabbed onto your shoulders and rolling you off of him. Jimin sat up and rested his weight against his palms. "You can't be serious," he said. "I don't think you're ready for this. We'll have to bring in the understudy."

You sat up and met his eyes. "No," you said. "I'll get it. Maybe I just need to eat something." Your limbs were still shaking and you had practiced all day, not remembering when you last ate.

"I do believe I can be of assistance then," a voice said. Your eyes lit up as you stood up and run over to your godfather who stood at the edge of the studio as if he had suddenly materialized in the space without knowing himself.

He carried a bag on his shoulder like he always did and he let it slip off his shoulder as you hugged him. Your godfather always felt a little magical, like touching him would transport you to another world.

"I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow," you said, thinking of the pre-debut/ birthday party you were holding for all the dancers.

"I felt the urge to come a bit early." Herr Drosselmeyer reached into his bag and pulled out a parfait topped with fruits you'd never seen before. "I know it's not my normal treats, but I know you need to eat well before the debut performance."

You nodded and took the lid off the parfait before you felt a gaze on your back. "Oh, Herr Drosselmeyer, this is my partner for the production, Park Jimin."

He approached and your godfather held out his hand. Jimin reached for it hesitantly and shook it. You could see the way Jimin raked his eyes over the other man, having only heard of his myths and never seen the man.

"You two look tired. I won't keep you too long as I'm sure you still have a lot of practicing to do."

"Yes," Jimin said. "We do."

You caught the glass shards in his voice and knew Herr Drosselmeyer did as well. His eyebrow arched in curiosity and his fingers twitched.

"I'll take my leave then. I will see you at your birthday party tomorrow and I look forward to the show." Your godfather left with the wind, you and Jimin blinked as he faded from your view.

You momentarily forgot about your dance partner as you once again grew used to the nearly empty dance studio. Drosselmeyer could make the dustiest rooms turn into fantastical wonderlands.

"Y/N? Are you ready to start again?"

You looked back and met Jimin's eyes which were surprisingly soft. He never normally looked at you like that and it made a spark run down your spine.

✦✧✦✧

"Your guests will be here soon. Are you sure you want to do this now?" your mother asked, pouring the salts and herbs into hot water.

"I have to," you said. "I don't think I'll walk otherwise." Slowly, you lowered your feet into the tub and relaxed as the water stung your red, raw toes.

"Will be okay for the performance tomorrow?"

"Of course," you said. "And, if I'm not, I'll figure it out. Maybe Herr Drosselmeyer can help."

Part of you didn't want to use Drosselmeyer's magic to ease your pain, only giving into the rumors that he was the only reason for your success.

Your mother nodded. "I'll come get you when everyone's here." She left the room with her frown lines becoming permanently etched in her forehead.

When the door shut, your shoulders relaxed and you allowed yourself to enjoy the pleasant hum of the salts and herbs on your muscles. Your eyes wandered to your vanity which held all of your jewels and trinkets for the performance. White feather hair clips for the white swan and a black diadem with a large diamond that dripped onto your forehead when you became the black swan. Eventually, on the opposite end of the vanity sat your wooden nutcracker.

He was turned slightly towards you. He still looked the same as when Herr Drosselmeyer had first given him to you. The green uniform still the color of evergreen trees in winter and his dark hair hadn't fallen out, even when you'd attempted to brush it when you were five.

"Nutcracker," you said. "Will you bring me good luck?"

As always, the nutcracker didn't respond, but something about the juxtaposition of his rigid stance and soft eyes always made you feel at ease. You failed to notice the small difference. The painted ring around the black pupil was no longer the vibrant blue, but the same shade of brown as the vanity itself.

"I don't know why I can't get the lifts," you said. "Maybe I really am a fraud. Maybe I'm only good at this because of Drosselmeyer's magic." Your head came to rest in your hands. "It's too late to give up the part, Nutcracker. What am I going to do?"

The nutcracker watched as you fell asleep with your feet submerged and your head having fallen to rest on your pillow. Inside the tub, your toes curled backward and your heel shifted positions before going back to normal. You seemed to feel no pain as your slumber continued. That, or you were simply used to it.

✦✧✦✧

"Y/N," your mother said. "Your guests have arrived."

You shot up, not realizing you had fallen asleep. Taking your feet out of the water you attempted to stand up, immediately falling onto the wood floor.

"Y/N!" Your mother's hands were on your shoulders and pulling you back up. "You know you can't stand right out of the tub." She helped you sit back on your bed as your feet throbbed back to life. Carefully, you slipped your feet into your clunky boots, which you wore when outside of your ballet slippers. They were heavy, but provided you the extra support to maintain your feet for the performance.

By the time you got down the stairs, you'd gained control and no one could tell you'd been so unsteady on your feet. Your friends, fellow dancers, and family each wished you a happy birthday and good luck on the performance. Hors d'oeuvres were passed around: chocolate-covered strawberries, peanut brittle, and frothy, fruit drinks. You couldn't stomach any of them.

"Have you see Jimin?" someone asked. You shook your head, realizing you hadn't seen your partner. While the two of you had practiced into the early hours of the morning and he'd seemed somewhat frustrated with you, you hadn't expected him to miss the party. Your brow furrowed in curiosity.

Before you could wonder further, all the room's eyes turned to the doorway as music played. You recognized the familiar sound of violins indicating Drosselmeyer's arrival. You smiled.

The crowd gasped as two life-size dolls walked through the door. They were dressed in the costumes you and Jimin would wear during the pas de deux. You watched as they performed the dance that you and Jimin could not, executing the lifts without issue.

Halfway through the doll that represented you, disappeared down the hall, just as you would dance backstage. When the doll re-emerged, the costume had shifted from Odile's black, to Odette's white. The partygoers oohed and ahhed, all taken with the two dolls. Your brow furrowed again.

✦✧✦✧

The festivities ended and the exhaustion settled into your limbs. Climbing the stairs to your room, a chill came over you. You sighed, opening the door to your room.

Inside, your things lay ransacked. Clothes strewn around the room, your bed covers lay on the floor, necklaces broken with their pearls spread out across the room. Everything on your vanity was missing, except for the nutcracker. The little soldier had fallen on his side and you grabbed his hat and gently stood him back up.

"Attack!" A shout rang out with the nutcracker still in your grasp. You fell backward, the nutcracker tumbling with you.

✦✧✦✧

When you opened your eyes, you were sprawled on the wood of your bedroom floor. But it was not your bedroom that surrounded you. Tall pine trees erupted from the ground beneath your back and snow seeped through the cloth of your dress. You shudder as the cold reached your skin, causing you to sit up.

"Stay down."

Your back hit the snow.

You turned to see Jimin standing above you, a sword at his hip and wearing a soldier's uniform. The uniform was a little big. The sleeves ended just below the wrist and the coat dwarfed his hips, even the hat lay lopsided.

It was then you saw the brightly colored gumdrop come towards you. It landed with a loud bang a few yards away, snow and pine needles flying into the area. The ground shook beneath you and you spotted all the soldiers in the distance. Gingerbread men?

"Y/N?" Jimin's voice was hushed as if the two of you were hidden. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you said. "Where are we?"

"I don't know."

The gingerbread soldiers drew closer and you spotted another army in the distance. This one made of rats who stood on two legs. At the back of their convoy, the king sat on a palanquin, looking as if he were sailing on a sea of his soldiers.

Swords clashed. You stood up, ready to run. Only to tumble back down into the snow. You knew your feet were failing you and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

"Jimin, I can't run."

His dark eyes met yours and it was then you recognized them. They were the eyes of the nutcracker from the night before, looking at you and begging you to notice.

"It's okay," he said, drawing the sword from his belt. He held it awkwardly in his hand and his palm barely wrapped around the girth of the hilt. "It's just like dancing."

A rock sat in your stomach as you watched your dance partner stand in front of you with the tip of the sword pointed diagonally towards the snow.  

Before any words of protest could come out of your mouth, the fight began. Jimin's sword clashing with a gingerbread soldier's. Another soldier approached you and you kicked at him, knocking it to the ground. Using the strength you had, you brought your feet down on the cookie's chest, breaking it in half.

With your attacker no longer a threat, you turned to find Jimin still clashing swords with the gingerbread soldier. The cookie had taken a few hits, frosting leaking from his wounds. Jimin's sword swung and sliced off the soldier's right arm. The candy sword falling to into the snow, turning it a faint pink. With one final swipe, the soldier crumbled.

Hope swelled in your heart at his first success. You shuffled your legs, trying to stand up. You couldn't feel your feet, as if they were frozen.

Just past Jimin, the rat soldiers battled the gingerbread men. The rats devoured the soldiers until they were crumbs in the snow. At first, you believe the rats would provide a reprieve. They decimated the gingerbread soldiers with ease.

Your hopes were dashed as one of the rats swung at Jimin, cutting through the fabric of his shirt. His shoulder staining a deep red. You noticed the small golden crown sitting on the rat's head. The Rat King.  

"Jimin!" You tried your best to stand, making it to your feet for a few seconds before falling over again. This time you landed on your stomach and you crawled towards the battlefield. While your feet certainly hurt often and caused you to fall, you'd never experienced this.

What did the Rat King want with Jimin? The two of you suddenly thrust into the fight. Although, it was

At the call of his name, Jimin looked back at you, causing the rat to slice at him again. The slice hit his chest this time, more blood seeping through the deep green uniform. He fell to his knees and the rat raised his sword above his ears.

"No!" You twisted to sit straight in the snow and you unlaced your boot as quickly as you could. Your fingers were stiff and wet, but you managed to untie the lace of your right boot and fling it at the Rat King.

The heavy leather boot hit the King's head, knocking off his crown. It took a few moments, but the Rat King fell back in the snow. Red stained the snow around him, but his whiskers still twitched.

Jimin--despite his injured form--took the opportunity and picked up the sword and brought it down swiftly. The Rat King was dead.

✦✧✦✧

The rest of the rats retreated after their king was killed. While the feeling in your feet hadn't returned, you shuffled on your knees to Jimin. He'd collapsed on his back and his chest rose and fell quickly.

"Hey," you said. "Steady your breaths. Come on, like you do when you dance. Count." You started counting and following the beat as you examined the cuts. The one on his shoulder was mostly superficial and the bleeding already slowing. Blood still flowed from the one across his chest and you pulled up his shirt to see it was much deeper than it looked.

You bit your lip, not sure where to start. While you were in a pine forest covered with snow, your bedroom was still beneath you. If it was still in its ransacked state, you knew you could easily find something to stop the bleeding. Digging through the snow, your hand eventually landed on fabric and you pulled it up.

It was the white swan costume. While the outside was covered in beading and feathers, the inside was soft silk. You turned it inside out and held it firmly against your lap, ready to rip the fabric when Jimin's hand grabbed your wrist.

"No," he said, his voice labored and sweat sticking to the ends of his hair. "You need that for tomorrow."

"Jimin, I need you for tomorrow."

You winced as you heard a ripping sound. You'd managed to remove half the lining. Pressing it down on Jimin's wound, it immediately became soaked.

"Y/N," he said. "I'm sorry."

You paused, meeting his eyes.

"For what?"

"For not believing you."

You shook your head. "Forget it, Jimin," you said. "You're going to die if I don't stop the bleeding."

"I don't even think this is real. One minute I'm going to bed and the next I'm your nutcracker. And, then I'm battling gingerbread men and mice. Y/N, do you think it's him?"

He didn't need to clarify for you to know who he meant. Herr Drosselmeyer. While you hadn't had time to stop and think about how you ended up here, the only explanation was magic. And when there was magic in your life, it always traced back to your godfather.

"I don't know."

The fabric was saturated now and blood covered your hands. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, knowing there was nothing more you could do. Even if he didn't say anything, Jimin faded fast. His eyelids drooped and sweat mixed with blood.

"Jimin, you can't leave me like this," you said. "We're going to debut tomorrow. We're going to get all the lifts right. We'll get a standing ovation. They'll pick up our production for a world tour. You can't die. Jimin, please."

"Y/N, stop." He placed his hands over your own. "It's okay. Everything will be okay. You're going to do great tomorrow." His breaths slowed and your own picked up.

"No, no, Jimin. I can't let this happen."

"Shhh." His hand came to your cheek. "It's like the end of the show. Just don't jump in after me, okay?"

His eyes closed. His breathing stopped. And the feeling and your feet came back.

✦✧✦✧

"What is this, child?"

You lifted your head. You'd stayed on your knees by Jimin's side, your head resting on his chest. Tear tracks stained your face and your eyes red. A woman stood above you. Her bright red hair contrasted with the purple ball gown she wore.

"What happened, my sweet?"

"The gingerbread soldiers and the rat king and I couldn't run--"

The woman smiled. "You have no reason to cry. Valiant death is always rewarded." She crouched down beside you and Jimin.  She held out something and you soon noticed it was a small, round plum. "Split it between the two of you."

The woman disappeared when you blinked, much like how Drosselmeyer was prone to do. You looked down at the small fruit and bit into it. The purple juice ran down your chin and it tasted like sweeter than any other plum.

Swallowing, you place the other half in Jimin's mouth. You weren't sure how it was supposed to work, but after his mouth closed around the fruit. The world spun.

The snow swirled around you and you held onto Jimin's shoulders to keep from feeling dizzy. Somehow, you'd ended up on your feet, with the feeling of nothing solid between them. You closed your eyes and felt as Jimin's hands gripped your waist.

The world turned from pine trees and snow to the more familiar setting of a dance studio. It wasn't your usual studio though. The floors were perfectly waxed and there were no dents from when Jimin dropped you.

"Jimin?" you asked, feeling his grip tighten around you.

"I'm here."

Your feet touched down on the floor. It felt odd and you looked down to see black ballet slippers tied around your ankles. In fact, you were perfectly dressed as the black swan and you noticed that Jimin was in his matching outfit for the pas de deux.

"Dance for me," the woman's voice sounded. The music from the ballet played, no orchestra in sight.

You and Jimin exchanged a glance before taking your places and beginning the dance. Hesitance bubbled in your stomach as you ran for the lift, feeling Jimin's hands take hold of you immediately. This time he did not let you drop, nor did you lose your focus or form.

When he placed your feet back on the ground, you threw your arms around him. He reciprocated and the music without a source stopped. No more voices sounded, no more soldiers came out of the woodwork, Jimin no longer felt rigid.

Your feet lifted off the ground as the world shifted again. Jimin's lips connected with yours at the same moment. You weren't sure if the dizziness you felt was from the spinning or the kiss as he pulled away and your feet once again touched solid ground.

✦✧✦✧

You cradled a bouquet of roses in your arm as you came off stage. You couldn't stop smiling, even as the cold air rushed in from where families entered to greet the dancers.

Jimin wasn't far behind you and you soon felt his touch on your lower back. His touch had become so familiar now, nearly as much as your own.

"You did well out there," he said. "I don't think you missed a step."

"I think you made the audience cry at the end. Everyone believed you sacrificed yourself for a trick, for love."

Jimin's lips perked up at the ends. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"You'd jump into a lake for me? Even if it meant dying?"

"Absolutely."

[fabianprcwett]

FABIAN PREWETT is TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD and is an RESEARCHER AND CONCEPTUALIST in THE COMMITTEE ON EXPERIMENTAL CHARMS at THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. He looks remarkably like CAMERON MONAGHAN and considers himself aligned with THE ORDER OF THE PHEONIX. He is currently TAKEN.

Bio (written by @chaoswillfallrpg)

 → OVERVIEW: Although only by minutes, Fabian is the youngest of the two Prewett brothers. He closely followed his brother and destined closest friend, GIDEON. The pair were born into the wealthy and prestigious Prewett House, and although they wouldn’t know what this meant till many years later, it would shape them into the men they were to become. Fabian was the quiet one, the one that planned their elaborate pranks and would rather listen to a conversation than be a part of it. He was calm and calculated and never saw this as a negative trait. Besides, he could always count on Gideon to take the lead in any social setting. His parents, ADGER and LUELLA PREWETT, were often away from home, either at work or attending important social events. They left MOLLY PREWETT, the oldest Prewett, to watch over the twins and although Gideon often tried to push Molly’s boundaries or manipulate her, Fabian really looked up to his older sister. She was smart and kind and always had time for Fabian, something that he appreciated from her. Molly had become a second mother to him and often preferred her company than that of his chaotic brother. That being said, he still adored Gideon and would go to the ends of the world with him. The two were partners in crime, perfectly complimenting each other in almost every aspect.

Gideon and Fabian had different interests and skill sets that allowed them to conduct elaborate pranks on themselves and the neighbours’ muggle children. If the two weren’t setting up traps, they were running around the Prewett grounds, hiding in their mother’s greenhouse or practicing quidditch. Both the twins had a natural affinity for quidditch, although Gideon enjoyed it so much more than Fabian did. No, Fabian much preferred to sit in his mother’s Greenhouse and learn about all the healing herbs that she had. If he ever came across an injured bird or gnome, he’d cradle them in his hands and take them to the greenhouse, whip up a healing remedy and help the injured creature. He’d often beg for his mother to take him to her healer shop in Diagon Alley, which she refused, replying that he was simply too young. Instead, Fabian would spend his free time reading about different healing spells and potions and wonder what would happen if you tried to combine two different spells into one. As much as he liked to think about it, he wasn’t brave enough to try it out, afraid that they might fail and make the injury worse than before. That’s why when he finally received his letter to Hogwarts he was so excited. He’d be able to learn more magic at a higher level. He’d be able to understand greater spells and powerful magic and he couldn’t wait to start improving his own abilities.

Fabian was unsurprisingly sorted into Hufflepuff and a few moments later, so was Gideon. Fabian was glad that he’d share a dorm with his twin and if he ever needed Molly, she was just a few corridors aways and shared a common room. He stuck close to Gideon’s side for the first few months but as Gideon started making his own friends, Fabian found himself being less and less included. He decided that it was the perfect time to gain some independence and branch off onto his own path. Fabian also became close friends with a Hufflepuff in their year, AMELIA BONES. The two would often study together and Fabian would rack her brain for additional information on spells and Amelia would deliver without hesitation. Amelia was one of his first friends other than Gideon, and whilst Fabian had many acquaintances, of which many were Gideon’s friends or students he met during their infamous common room parties such as FREDRICK WEASLEY, his friendship group was extremely small and close-knit. In his second year he and Gideon met a student called EDWARD TONKS, a muggle-born wizard, and whilst they all got along very well, Fabian began to hang out more with Edward. Like Molly had made time for Fabian, he made time for Edward, teaching the boy everything he knew about Helga Hufflepuff and Hogwarts, as well as explaining common terms that muggles wouldn’t understand. They’d often spend time in the Greenhouse as Fabian listed off all the herbs he knew. 

Other friends Fabian made included EDGAR BONES, COINNEACH MCKINNON, LAURENCE ABBOTT, MARIANNE MACMILLAN and CELIA ABBOTT. He adored his friends and held them all dear. However, it wasn’t until one peculiar Care for Magical Creatures lesson that Fabian made an unlikely friend. WALDEN MACNAIR and Fabian had been grouped together during a lesson and had got lost in the Forbidden Forest together after chasing after a unicorn. At first the two were heavily uninterested in working together but after being forced to do so they found an unlikely friendship in each other that then bloomed into something more. Fabian fell for Walden, the boy was caring and soft when around Fabian, but was cold and harsh around his friend group which included CAIUS BURKE and ANYA ROOKWOOD. Walden had asked Fabian to be his boyfriend but that they had to keep it a secret, that his friends could not know that he was dating Fabian, someone who Walden’s friend group considered a blood traitor for being friends with the likes of Edward Tonks. Fabian agreed and the two dated for a couple of years but in their Seventh Year, Fabian called it off with Walden, announcing that it wasn’t working for him anymore, that he could no longer keep it a secret and with Walden refusing to go public, Fabian was left with no choice. He spent the rest of his final year concentrating on his N.E.W.T.S and writing his application to the Committee On Experimental Charms at the ministry of magic. 

Fabian got the job and was appointed as a researcher and conceptualist. His job required him to research existing charms, and conceptualise how they could become better or how they could be used along with other spells to become a completely different spell. Fabian concentrated on charms that aided in healing and would experiment how charms reacted with certain ingredients and potions. He was good at his job and soon Fabian Prewett became a well known name in his department. He was often called to aid others determine whether a new spell was safe or not to use or to reverse engineer a spell that was cast by accident that had a desirable outcome. He enjoyed working at the ministry as Amelia was there too, training to be a barrister, and Molly was always in her office as junior undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. He’d often spend lunch together with her and ARTHUR WEASLEY. However, one of the reason’s he did not enjoy working at the ministry was that Walden worked there too as a member of the Beast Division. The two would often bump into each other and an awkward conversation would spark up. At least Fabian could go home and enjoy an evening with friends in his flat that he shared with Gideon, Coinneach and Laurence. 

It was only when Molly was disowned that Fabian realised how strongly some people believed in blood purity, including his own parents. It was completely unfair and uncivilised. He knew Arthur, he was a great man and he was excited to become his brother-in-law. During a night at Molly and Arthur’s new home, Fabian was having a drink with Gideon and Arthur when Arthur mentioned that there was more that they could be doing, further actions they could take to help make the wizarding world a more inclusive place for all and this intrigued the twins. They followed Arthur’s mysterious instructions and found themselves at a pub called the fountain of fair fortune. Inside, they met many others including FRANK LONGBOTTOM, ALICE YEN, LILY EVANS, MARLENE MCKINNON and many more familiar faces. That night the twins swore an oath to do their best to fight the rising chaos and became official Order of the Phoenix members. Since then Fabian kept his ears open at work, trying to pick up on any rumours about the dark forces that had supposedly entered the ministry. He also sat in during a couple of strategic meetings that The Order held, after all, he’d spent his whole life planning mischievous and secret plans. It was Fabian’s idea to send Gideon in as an undercover agent to the Death Eaters. Sure, it was dangerous, but remembering Gideon’s old school connections he was the most likely to get in undetected. Fabian knew that Gideon felt as if he needed to prove himself to the group and this was how he’d do it. Fabian was worried, but he knew that Gideon could fend for himself. Besides, Merlin helps those that would bring any harm to Gideon as Fabian may be reserved and quiet, but he was a good wizard, and a vengeful wizard is always a force to reckon with. 

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: 

Blood Status → Pure-Blood

Pronouns → He/Him

Identification → Cis Male

Relationship Status → Single

Sexual Orientation → Homosexual

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Hufflepuff)

Societies → TBD

Family → Adger Prewett (father), Luella Prewett (mother), Molly Prewett (sister), Gideon Prewett (brother), Arthur Weasley (future brother-in-law)

Connections  → Amelia Bones (best friend), Laurence Abbot (close friend), Edward Tonks (close friend), Edgar Bones (friend), Frederick Weasley (friend), Coinneach McKinnon (friend), Marianne MacMillan (friend), Celia Abbott (friend), Walden MacNair (potential love interest)

Future Information → N/A

BONUS EXTRAS (written by kc): 

Birthday: 5/24. A gemini. Hilariously, this sign’s astrological symbol is the twins. Although he and Gideon are very different in some ways, they have remained close into adulthood. It’s also an air sign, which can symbolize creation, something Fabian associates with his job as a researcher and conceptualist. 

Wand:  Fabian's wand is a 10 1/4 inches, red oak wood with a phoenix feather core. Slightly springy. I spent an embarrassingly long amount of time researching wand woods and decided on red oak for a few different reasons. Because Fabian is a researcher and conceptualist, the red oak makes sense because Fabian is "light of touch, quick witted, and adaptable". Additionally, it specifically mentions in the lore that red oak wands are often paired with creators of distinctive, trademark spells. Fabian deals largely in original spellwork in his job, so this wand seems like an ideal match for him. It makes sense that his wand would have a phoenix core as well because, although they are the rarest core type, they are also capable of the greatest range of magic. Their allegiance is hard won, but even as a youngster, Fabian was dedicated, both to his family and to small creatures that he diligently nursed back to health.

Amortentia: Pine, the smell of the outdoors right after it rains, and clean sheets. Although Fabian would never explain the likely reasoning for his olfactory reaction to amortentia, it likely smells of pine due to when he first started to develop a crush on a person who grew to be his first love. The reasoning for the smell after it rains is similar, having spent many a clandestine date taking advantage of foggy afternoons. However, clean sheets are simply a classic favorite, as he tends to be more subtle, in many avenues in life, including this one.

Boggart:  Despite feeling secure on a broom, Fabian is afraid of heights. It's less the height and more the falling from a heigh height. His boggart would show him falling off the top of a mountain or something, and his riddikulus spell would involve Gideon laughing from the top of the mountain and easily saving him with the arresto momentum spell.

Patronus: Fabian's patronus is a rhinoceros. I took the patronus quiz on wizardingworld.com and I love this for him. It's so random, but at the same time it kind of fits perfectly. Fabian has his quiet and reserved side, while at the same time he has his "channeling his inner Gideon, sort of extra, will gore this Dementor with my rhinoceros patronus" side.

Mirror of Erised: Quite simply, he wants peace. Both within his family and as a larger ideal. He wants the Order to prevail over the Death Eaters, and he wants his parents to welcome Molly and Arthur back into the family. He also wants Walden to be out and happy. Fabian doesn't need the two of them to end up together, he just wishes that Walden felt comfortable enough to be his true self without fear of judgment.

[chaoswillfallrpg]

FABIAN PREWETT is TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD and is an RESEARCHER AND CONCEPTUALIST in THE COMMITTEE ON EXPERIMENTAL CHARMS at THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. He looks remarkably like CAMERON MONAGHAN and considers himself aligned with THE ORDER OF THE PHEONIX. He is currently TAKEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

Although only by minutes, Fabian is the youngest of the two Prewett brothers. He closely followed his brother and destined closest friend, GIDEON. The pair were born into the wealthy and prestigious Prewett House, and although they wouldn’t know what this meant till many years later, it would shape them into the men they were to become. Fabian was the quiet one, the one that planned their elaborate pranks and would rather listen to a conversation than be a part of it. He was calm and calculated and never saw this as a negative trait. Besides, he could always count on Gideon to take the lead in any social setting. His parents, ADGER and LUELLA PREWETT, were often away from home, either at work or attending important social events. They left MOLLY PREWETT, the oldest Prewett, to watch over the twins and although Gideon often tried to push Molly’s boundaries or manipulate her, Fabian really looked up to his older sister. She was smart and kind and always had time for Fabian, something that he appreciated from her. Molly had become a second mother to him and often preferred her company than that of his chaotic brother. That being said, he still adored Gideon and would go to the ends of the world with him. The two were partners in crime, perfectly complimenting each other in almost every aspect.

Gideon and Fabian had different interests and skill sets that allowed them to conduct elaborate pranks on themselves and the neighbours’ muggle children. If the two weren’t setting up traps, they were running around the Prewett grounds, hiding in their mother’s greenhouse or practicing quidditch. Both the twins had a natural affinity for quidditch, although Gideon enjoyed it so much more than Fabian did. No, Fabian much prefered to sit in his mother's Greenhouse and learn about all the healing herbs that she had. If he ever came across an injured bird or gnome, he’d cradle them in his hands and take them to the greenhouse, whip up a healing remedy and help the injured creature. He’d often beg for his mother to take him to her healer shop in diagon alley, which she refused, replying that he was simply too young. Instead, Fabian would spend his free time reading about different healing spells and potions and wonder what would happen if you tried to combine two different spells into one. As much as he liked to think about it, he wasn’t brave enough to try it out, afraid that they might fail and make the injury worse than before. That’s why when he finally received his letter to Hogwarts he was so excited. He’d be able to learn more magic at a higher level. He’d be able to understand greater spells and powerful magic and he couldn’t wait to start improving his own abilities. 

 Fabian was unsurprisingly sorted into Hufflepuff and a few moments later, so was Gideon. Fabian was glad that he’d share a dorm with his twin and if he ever needed Molly, she was just a few corridors aways and shared a common room. He stuck close to Gideon’s side for the first few months but as Gideon started making his own friends, Fabian found himself being less and less included. He decided that it was the perfect time to gain some independance and branch off onto his own path. Fabian also became close friends with a Hufflepuff in their year, AMELIA BONES. The two would often study together and Fabian would rack her brain for additional information on spells and Amelia would deliver without hesitation. Amelia was one of his first friends other than Gideon, and whilst Fabian had many acquaintances, of which many were Gideon’s friends or students he met during their infamous common room parties such as FREDRICK WEASLEY, his friendship group was extremely small and close-knit. In his second year he and Gideon met a student called EDWARD TONKS, a muggle-born wizard, and whilst they all got along very well, Fabian began to hang out more with Edward. Like Molly had made time for Fabian, he made time for Edward, teaching the boy everything he knew about Helga Hufflepuff and Hogwarts, as well as explaining common terms that muggles wouldn’t understand. They’d often spend time in the Greenhouse as Fabian listed off all the herbs he knew. 

Other friends Fabian made included EDGAR BONES, COINNEACH MCKINNON, LAURENCE ABBOTT, MARIANNE MACMILLAN and CELIA ABBOTT. He adored his friends and held them all dear. However, it wasn’t until one peculiar Care for Magical Creatures lesson that Fabian made an unlikely friend. WALDEN MACNAIR and Fabian had been grouped together during a lesson and had got lost in the Forbidden Forest together after chasing after a unicorn. At first the two were heavily uninterested in working together but after being forced to do so they found an unlikely friendship in each other that then bloomed into something more. Fabian fell for Walden, the boy was caring and soft when around Fabian, but was cold and harsh around his friend group which included CAIUS BURKE and ANYA ROOKWOOD. Walden had asked Fabian to be his boyfriend but that they had to keep it a secret, that his friends could not know that he was dating Fabian, someone who Walden’s friend group considered a blood traitor for being friends with the likes of Edward Tonks. Fabian agreed and the two dated for a couple of years but in their Seventh Year, Fabian called it off with Walden, announcing that it wasn’t working for him anymore, that he could no longer keep it a secret and with Walden refusing to go public, Fabian was left with no choice. He spent the rest of his final year concentrating on his N.E.W.T.S and writing his application to the Committee On Experimental Charms at the ministry of magic. 

Fabian got the job and was appointed as a researcher and conceptualist. His job required him to research existing charms, and conceptualise how they could become better or how they could be used along with other spells to become a completely different spell. Fabian concentrated on charms that aided in healing and would experiment how charms reacted with certain ingredients and potions. He was good at his job and soon Fabian Prewett became a well known name in his department. He was often called to aid others determine whether a new spell was safe or not to use or to reverse engineer a spell that was cast by accident that had a desirable outcome. He enjoyed working at the ministry as Amelia was there too, training to be a barrister, and Molly was always in her office as junior undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. He’d often spend lunch together with her and ARTHUR WEASLEY. However, one of the reason’s he did not enjoy working at the ministry was that Walden worked there too as a member of the Beast Division. The two would often bump into each other and an awkward conversation would spark up. At least Fabian could go home and enjoy an evening with friends in his flat that he shared with Gideon, Coinneach and Laurence. 

It was only when Molly was disowned that Fabian realised how strongly some people believed in blood purity, including his own parents. It was completely unfair and uncivilised. He knew Arthur, he was a great man and he was excited to become his brother-in-law. During a night at Molly and Arthur’s new home, Fabian was having a drink with Gideon and Arthur when Arthur mentioned that there was more that they could be doing, further actions they could take to help make the wizarding world a more inclusive place for all and this intrigued the twins. They followed Arthur’s mysterious instructions and found themselves at a pub called the fountain of fair fortune. Inside, they met many others including FRANK LONGBOTTOM, ALICE YEN, LILY EVANS, MARLENE MCKINNON and many more familiar faces. That night the twins swore an oath to do their best to fight the rising chaos and became official Order of the Phoenix members. Since then Fabian kept his ears open at work, trying to pick up on any rumours about the dark forces that had supposedly entered the ministry. He also sat in during a couple of strategic meetings that The Order held, after all, he’d spent his whole life planning mischievous and secret plans. It was Fabian’s idea to send Gideon in as an undercover agent to the Death Eaters. Sure, it was dangerous, but remembering Gideon’s old school connections he was the most likely to get in undetected. Fabian knew that Gideon felt as if he needed to prove himself to the group and this was how he’d do it. Fabian was worried, but he knew that Gideon could fend for himself. Besides, Merlin helps those that would bring any harm to Gideon as Fabian may be reserved and quiet, but he was a good wizard, and a vengeful wizard is always a force to reckon with. 

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood

Pronouns → He/Him

Identification → Cis Male 

Relationship Status → Single

Sexual Orientation → Homosexual

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Hufflepuff)

Societies → TBD

Family → Adger Prewett (father), Luella Prewett (mother), Molly Prewett (sister), Gideon Prewett (brother), Arthur Weasley (future brother-in-law)

Connections  → Amelia Bones (best friend), Laurence Abbot (close friend), Edward Tonks (close friend), Edgar Bones (friend), Frederick Weasley (friend), Coinneach McKinnon (friend), Marianne MacMillan (friend), Celia Abbott (friend), Walden MacNair (potential love interest)

Future Information → N/A

FABIAN PREWETT IS A LEVEL 6 WIZARD.

[therunawayscamp]

And here's something else that winds me up about people always blaming us for everything: yes, all right, maybe it we did cause the explosion near the Shrine of Azura, and maybe there wasn't anyone else involved, but did you ever stop to consider that we might have had a perfectly good reason for it? No, you didn't, so now I'm going to explain that very reason and you'll be forced to admit that we were justified, and also that you ought to pay us some sort of reparations for the slander against the good name of the Runaway Scamp.

Over the course of a voyage, there's always a bit of a rivalry that builds up between the two watches. Sometimes there isn't much of a contest. Obviously the Ald'Varay (my watch) is superior when it comes to the art of sailing.

It's areas like mage drills where things get interesting. I'm no mage myself, so far as I'm concerned, both Mr Oran and Mr Ethysil are equally talented in their field, and the same goes for the mages under their separate commands. By the end of a voyage, however, when they've had time to train them to their full potential, they like to settle the question for themselves and the best way of doing that is through a competition.

If Oran had his way, the competition would always be settled by whichever team can blow up the biggest rock, but as Ethysil argues, this doesn't bear much resemblance to their skill in an engagement. Any ship worth its gilt will have wards cast around the hull, something I haven't noticed very often on your average rock, and it requires a bit more thought than simply hurling magic around. R'khan came up with the alternative: both teams have a camp containing an idol, and whoever finds the opposing team's idol first is the winner. They signal that they've found the idol by blowing it up because Oran threatened to mutiny if explosions weren't involved somewhere along the line, but I don't think anybody could object to a few little explosions here and there. They keep life interesting. If the other team defend it properly and prevent it from blowing up, it doesn't count. The idea is it showcases their intelligence and creativity as well as their power, but personally I think they just like having an excuse to run around on land after months at sea.

I will spare you the boring details of the hunt for the opposing team's idol. The competition took place, as I say, near the Shrine of Azura in Winterhold, so mostly it consisted of sailors climbing halfway up icy cliffs then getting knocked down again into a snowdrift, to the mirth of their shipmates. They apparently enjoyed themselves. Personally I think R'khan, myself, and the rest of the non-mage crew enjoyed ourselves a lot more sat next to a campfire on the beach singing a few songs and sharing the rum around, but what do I know about the ways of mages? Instead we'll get straight to the point.

Ethysil was the first to find the idol. Presumably working on the basis of hiding things in plain sight, or perhaps because he knew it would piss Zannammu off, Oran had tucked it between the statue's legs, propped up against somebody else's offering so that it was staring up Azura's robe. Like all of us, Ethysil appreciates these little touches, but he had a mission to complete. His reputation was at stake. Magic sparked briefly in his hand and illuminated all life in the immediate area with a glow visible to his eyes only. Nothing but a fox tearing through the undergrowth. That in itself should have been a warning – even Oran isn't stupid enough to leave his prize totally unguarded – but victory was only an arm's length away. Ethysil reached forwards.

As soon as his fingertip touched the idol, the world fell into fire. He tried to reel backwards and found the ground was gone, his feet milling aimlessly in the air, tumbling and burning. If there was any noise, he couldn't hear it. His ears rang with the aftermath of the explosion and when he finally landed, with a thud that cracked the back of his skull against the ice, his vision shook for a few minutes. Moving was not an option. He lay flat on his back and waited to see whether he would die.

Ice melted and dripped across his forehead. Eventually the cold convinced him that actually he might be alive after all, and a little while later that maybe he really ought to move if he didn't want to be soaked through. He struggled upwards, blinked a few times, and realised that the rock formation towering over him was in fact Oran. In his hand was Ethysil's idol, which ought to have been hidden safely on the beach, buried beneath the tideline. He grinned, and the idol exploded into dust in his hands, shooting a pillar of flame into the sky.

'I win.'

Things still weren't entirely straight in Ethysil's head. He let Oran drag him back to the beach, telling everyone they met along the way about his victory, and accepted a bottle pushed into his hand without questioning the contents. It certainly took the edge off the cold creeping into his bones. When half of it was gone and when he could feel his extremities again, he jabbed his elbow sideways into Oran's stomach.

'What in Oblivion did you enchant it with?'

'Modified fire rune.'

I don't know what it is about Oran, but he can do a more infuriating smug look than anybody else I know.

Undoubtedly he treated Ethysil to it now and was well-rewarded by a huff. Ethysil's breath swept across the bottle and turned to fog in the frosty air.

'You, muthsera, are a bastard. Since when do you use runes?'

He expected a smart remark, an insistence that he ought to own up to his own fault and oversight. Instead Oran conjured up some flames in his hand, surprisingly modest ones for him, and shook them onto the sand, where they burned without fuel and formed a small campfire. Such a thoughtful gesture is practically unheard of for Oran, and Ethysil stared at him with the appropriate amount of shock, although not until after shuffling forward to feel the fire's benefit.

'Maybe I learned something from you,' said Oran, and cleared his throat in the way which means people in his vicinity ought to run for the hills if they don't want to be treated to what he thinks of as poetry. 'We've been sailing together for so long now, over the aeons, through tide and tempest, forging a bond in the darkest nights and the wildest--'

'All right, all right.'

'Something was bound to rub off eventually.'

'Are you saying is that it was my influence? I rather think that means it was my victory after all.'

The campfire flared into a bonfire momentarily as Oran scowled.

'Fuck off. I won fair and square.' The flames simmered down and their faces were half darkness once again. 'What I'm saying is that I may be no House Dunmer, but I think I understand what it means. Together through hell and high water. A bond of sheer courage and unshakable faith, as the learned Sera Ravel describes it. A clan of one blood, whom one follows unto death and beyond, if such is one's calling, for they cannot deny a shared destiny which--'

'Oran. Please. Have mercy. I've still got a headache from your blasted rune and this is not helping.'

Obligingly, for once, and I can only assume Ethysil cast some sort of enchantment or tame beast spell on him because Oran has never once been obliging for me, Oran said no more. They watched the magical fire twist against the sand in a companionable silence, the only sound the rest of the crew in their own huddles and the waves hushing along the shore.

Until Luca trudged up and, in her characteristic way, shattered the moment of peace. She dropped a pile of cloth, formerly draped over her arms, at Ethysil's feet.

'Here. R'khan said it's about time you put this back on.'

It was the cloak Ethysil wears when we're in Morrowind, to cover up his Tribunal tattoos from the more zealous brand of Reclamationists. Its warmth wasn't exactly unwelcome, sat outside at night in Skyrim, but as Luca went off scuffing sand behind her, Ethysil dragged it slowly over his arms.

'I suppose I shall be wearing this for the next few months.' He fingered the sleeve distastefully. 'You know, the disrobing ceremony is far more enjoyable than the robing.'

'You'll be taking it off soon enough.'

'Will I?'

The air was cold that night. I remember. That was all it was. That's what the little pause was, the chill, the shiver. Perfectly normal. Why wouldn't it be? Skyrim is always cold. Anyway, everyone always feel a bit strange at the end of a voyage, as if something is coming to an end. Which it isn't. Obviously. It's only a feeling, and feelings always pass, given enough time.

When this feeling passed, which it did, Oran grinned behind a swig from his own bottle.

'Yeah. When you meet a certain beautiful lady you took a fancy to last time we were home. One glimpse of her dark, lustrous locks and her buxom chest and that cloak will be straight off.'

'Closely followed by the rest of my clothes?' Ethysil laughed. 'I'll drink to that, serjo.'