#hung mushrooms from branches

[vanillablankcanvas]

🎶Pop Village Castle🎶

I'm getting married today!

To celebrate, I finished the first stage of the Pop Village Castle early.

There will be four layers. This is the first layer.

I imagine Branch has the idea of building Poppy a castle. It's a good compromise for them.

Pod or bunker? Nope! Castle!

Features:

Trolls Tribe Flags

Firework canon flowers

Mushroom stage and staircase

BFF bracelet from Bridget and Gristle hung like a banner.

Can't wait to show you guys the other layers.

Love you all 💖

[merlinmylove]

Dragonlord reveal pt 3: The Darkest Hour rewrite (Finale)

Read on Ao3 Here (fully updated and edited)

Read part 1 Here

Read part 2 Here

After saving their lives, Merlin tended to his duties.

He made a simple mushroom soup, refilled all the water skins, brushed down the horses, hung all their capes up to dry over some nearby branches, washed Arthur’s socks in a cold creek where he also gathered some algae for Gaius. All in all, it had been a very productive trip.

He rubbed his hands together for warmth as he looked over this work. Yes, he thought. All is well. Or maybe, not all is well, but at least he got his chores done before Arthur decides he wants to berate him again. Merlin trotted over the fire where Percival had upended two tree stumps, and placed them down as benches.

Sir Leon was stoking the fire with a stick, trying to even the smoke out. It was clear to Merlin that he’s been on the verge of speaking several time, but didn’t know how to begin. After he gave the older man a soft nod, he began.

"So is that how you survived the Dorocha? Your...dragonsblood?" His voice was guarded but not judging, as if he was trying to figure something out for himself. Merlin met his eyes over the fire and saw nothing but sincerity and honesty in them.

"It’s possible. Frankly, I’m not too sure how or why I survived”

"Its a simple enough question, Merlin. Just answer him” Arthur grumbled from the right. The Prince had made a point of sitting furthest away from him. What an ass.

“The question may be simple, but I don't know the answer, my Lord. Your father destroyed any books on the topic, and any other dragon-nobility was executed, so there is no one I can ask. Though I suppose I could ask Killgarrah, but I doubt you’d like to see him again”. Merlin added bitterly.

Arthur's eyes met his and Merlin could see in real time how quickly Arthur came to realise what he had meant by that. “I didn’t kill the dragon that night, did I?”

“No, Sire. You did not”

“So that was anther lie”

“You can’t blame me for lying when the truth is a death sentence”

Merlin let that statement sit for a moment. Perhaps it was a cruel thing to say, after all he hated lying to Arthur, and he did want to apologise for all the years of lying. But he also needed his friends to hear his side.

Lancelot, kind gentle Lancelot, placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. His touch had always had a calming effect on Merlin. His presence even more so. Tears begun to sting his eyes, but. he told himself it was just from the smoke of the fire.

“I met the dragon yesterday, he saved our lives from the Dorocha with his fire. And afterwards he flew us to you”

No!

“No, that’s not true. Sir Lancelot lies, he is not a traitor to the crown, he would never betray you sire!” Merlin scrambles to explain, desperate to keep his friend alive. Gods, why is it every friend he makes is so willing to sacrifice their own lives?!

“Lancelot!?” Arthur exclaims but is shushed by Lancelot soothing voice. “My Lord, I am your knight and I will always be loyal to you. It is an honour to serve you, Sire. But I must also look after my friend — and right now Merlin is my priority.”

He turns to face Merlin, placing his hand gently under his chin. “You don’t have to lie any longer, Merlin. You don’t have to hide”

That thought terrified him. As much as he had always wanted and fantasied about being honest with Arthur and their friends, he found himself more terrified than ever before.

“I’ve been hiding my whole life, I don’t know how to be visible” Merlin choked as he tried to wipe his tears.

“Then let me be your strength.” Lancelot gives him one of his gentles smiles before he speaks again. “It is true Sire, that I’ve always known about Merlin’s magic. You remember the griffin that plagued Camelot all those years ago. We were all told it could only die by magic, and I willing to lay down my life for your kingdom when I made my attempt at charging it. But somehow, seconds before I struck it, my lance erupted in blue flames killing it where it stood.”

All the knights were attentively listening. Lancelot had that effect on people, his voice and demeanour always seemed honest. “I admit I was surprised at its death, for my lance had not been made with magic. When I looked around I saw fallen knights on the ground, yourself amongst them. And hiding behind a tree stood Merlin. His eyes glowed gold, for it was he who saved Camelot that day. Not I.”

The fire crackled as everyone looked at Merlin, who seemed to grow pink. They all knew he had a tendency to hide behind trees and bushes during battles. Had this been the reason why? Had he been fighting using magic all this time?

“From that day on I swore to keep his secret. I’ve watched Merlin take down an immortal army, kill beasts and assassins without breaking a sweat, all while still serving you breakfast. You may question Merlin’s honesty but never for one moment should you question his loyalty. Merlin is entirely devoted to you, Arthur”

Lancelot pulled him into his side and hugged him with one arm. Merlin tried to even out his breathing as he waited for his prince to speak.

“But he was not a dragonlord back then…how did he have magic?” The idiot asks. Arthur seemed more confused than angry. Hopefully, that meant he would be able to forgive him for some of his worst decisions.

“I told you my dragon abilities were inherited. My father was a dragonlord and warlock, as am I”

“What exactly is a warlock? Is that any different from a sorcerer?” Elyan piped up from his left side. He sipped his drink as if he was merely asking about the weather.

“Well, sorcerers study magic, they must practice and it takes years to learn. Gaius is a sorcerer who studies magic for healing purposes. Warlocks and witches on the other hand, are born with their powers. Morgana is such a witch, just like I am a warlock.”

At this Arthur raised his voice. “That’s not possible, Merlin. People aren’t born with magic”

“Isn’t it? Says who?” Merlin cocked his head. His tears were dried and his breathing much steadier.

“My f-“

“Your father? The king who banned magic? The same king who burned pregnant mothers and drowned druid children? Right, of course, silly me. For a moment I forgot that my father was a dragonlord, whose ability was passed down from his father and from his father before him.”

Merlin explained calmly, letting the words flow over the knights as he spoke. It’s not the first time they’ve heard him speak treason, and judging by the look on Arthur’s face, he was not entirely happy about it. But Merlin knew him better than anyone; Arthur was not angry with him, but rather because he recognised the truth in what was said.

“And Morgana inherited her magic from her mother, who was a notable seer and the sister of a High Priestess” Merlin added lamely. “I had only known her a month when I realised she had magic. Gaius had been dowsing her with sleeping draughts for years in order to dampen her sight, hoping it would keep her safe from speculation. Of course, that didn’t work out. Her powers manifested regardless, and she was alone and helpless in a Kingdom that killed her kind”

Arthur looked away at that, and it hurt Merlin. He could never condone her actions, but Morganas path to villainy had been paved with loneliness and lies. Eventually, Arthur turned back and fixed his eyes on Merlin. It seemed he had more pressing matters than the revelation of Morgana's magic. At least for now.

“So the beast is still alive. How do I keep Camelot safe if it’s still out there?” Arthur grumbled at Merlin. The fear of another attack on his home was great. He was also angry that the dragon still lived, that his victory had just been a lie. A lie that Merlin made him believe wholeheartedly. Because he never thought Merlin of all people, would be so comfortable lying to him.

“I told you, Killgarrah is like an uncle to me and so I couldn’t kill him. He is the only one alive who truly knew my father. Instead, I banished him from Camelot, and he cannot return upon pain of death. He obeys my orders like your knights obey you.” He nodded towards Sir Leon who gave him a small if not uncertain smile.

At this point, Arthur had stood up and began pacing the campsite. His jaw was tightened as he thought and reasoned with himself. Anxiety and desperation were evident in his tone as he spoke. “If you are telling the truth, and you truly were born with magic — that it exists within you...how is it that you’re not corrupted?”

A loud sigh escaped Merlin`s lips as he shook his head. He knew it would be tough to explain to Arthur and the others that magic is not as black and white as Uther had made it seem. “Magic is woven into the very fabric of the earth. It lives in the leaves in the trees, the waves at sea, and the moss on the ground. Trying to eradicate it is impossible. Uther might as well try and shoot the moon”

The men around the fire sat silently and listened. The fire crackled and the wind blew softly across their camp. "You’re saying that magic is just a part of nature...what, like water? But we’ve seen magic corrupt and kill before" Said Elyan, admittedly a little confused.

“Yes, I am. Magic is no more evil than any other force of nature. To use your example of water." Merlin ignored Arthurs's scoff as he continued:

"It can sail a ship safely to shore, or sink it. Water can also grow crops, or flood the streets. It can put out housefires, or it can be used to drown druid children. Magic is about balance, just like any other part of nature. Too much of it can be deadly, but if you remove it entirely you will die." He paused for a moment. "It all depends on how it's used and how much.”

“You speak of magic like it’s poetry, but I’ve seen horrible things at the hands of magic users” Arthur tried to reason.

He wasn't entirely incorrect, Merlin had seen awful things at the hands of magic users. Moraguse and Morgana came to mind. But he`s come this far, he needs to make them understand that not every sorcerer is hellbent on destroying Camelot.

“That’s true, but you’ve also seen good things at the hands of magic. Just like I have seen good things from Uther, I have also seen the injustice of your father's paranoia" He steadied himself before he continued. Merlin knew he was closing on dangerous grounds, but Arthur needed to hear it.

"Gwen has been accused of practicing magic twice. She was innocent, yet Uther ordered her pyre built. Gaius was accused of magic, and tortured into a false confession. He was already tied to the pyre when you stopped it. How many more innocents must be accused and executed before you realise that crying magic is a death sentence in Camelot. That as soon as the word is whispered, your father orders their arrest - innocent or not."

Elyan looked distinctly green at this and moved uncomfortably in his seat. He no doubt remembered how his father died, and the vision of Gwen at the pyre was too much to bear. Percival placed a hand on his shoulder to soothe him.

Arthur seemed ashamed as he mumbled to Merlin “Magic killed my mother," as if this was a reasonable justification. And now, Merlin is no stranger to pretty revenge. But, Arthur is above such things and thus needs to hear the truth.

“And a sword killed my father, but you don’t see me refusing to sharpen yours. And a spear killed Sir Elyans father but you don’t see him burning all spearmakers.” Merlin snapped back harshly. It was a cruel thing to say, and he could see the pain in the knights eyes, but at least they finally understood him.

Elyan looked uncomfortable as he mumbled “I just think it’s unfair that someone can wield such power, while others” he gestures towards the knights “like us, don’t. We don’t have any way of defending ourselves against magic”

Merlin shrugged. “Well…most things in life are unfair, Sir Elyan. You’re all trained killers, I’m just a peasant with no sword training. You’re all of noble standing with a voice at court, but if I speak out of turn I would be flogged.” 

Arthur winced at that, he hated hearing of the time Uther nearly flogged him. “You guys dragged me with you on all sorts of quests and adventures, but you never gave me any armor or training. That’s unfair. My only choice of defending myself is to run or hide, which you will call me a coward for. But if I use magic to save mine, or even your life, I would hang for it. That’s unfair”

Arthur had since stopped pacing and had now walked over to sit beside Merlin. It made his heart happy to feel him so near, to know that his very presence no longer disgusted him. "Alright, Let`s say Im entertaining this idea of yours." He began.

“In your examples, it’s not just the water doing the work, it’s humans too. Like the ship; you say the ocean can sink or sail it, but that’s not entirely true — you’d need someone to man the ship". Arthur concluded.

Merlin smiled. “Yes, Arthur. But if you think back to what Elyan said, about how it’s unfair that some people understand this power while you guys don’t, imagine this:

"Could you prevent a shipwreck, tend to the sails or the mast? No, but a sailor can. You cannot command a dragon, but I can. Is it unfair, maybe — but that’s how life works. Everyone has their own skills and abilities, as we must all work together. I can’t fight in battle, but I can save your life afterward with medicine. You wouldn’t call that unfair, it’s just how life works. And that’s also how magic works — everything in harmony and balance”

Next to him Lancelot smiled and grabbed his knee in a comforting way. Gwaine kept his eyes on him, not judging, but he was clearly intrigued about this way of thinking.

At last, Percival spoke. "I think my issue is the trust we must then place at the feet of magic users. Druids are peaceful, I know. I've stayed with them for a while. But common sorcerers...I don't think I've ever met a kind sorcerer.”

"Well," Said Gwaine. "We are all fighters and killers, as Merlin says. But we trust each other not to attack while the others sleep. Arthur trusts us not to stage a coup, or steal from his vaults. We swore an oath, and our word as knights means everything. But that does not mean we are not capable of terrible things."

Merlin had never been more thankful for Gwaine in his life. He gave him the brightest smile he could, before turning his attention towards the largest knight. "What Gwaine says is true. And just for the record, you have met a kind sorcerer. Gaius is one. I am one. Many other kind magic users reside in Camelot, you just don't know them."

Percival seemed to listen attentively and motioned for Merlin to go on.

"Most people only have small amounts of magic, but you will never know about it, for if you did, they would burn. As a servant and a physician, I meet most people in the Citadel. There are many sorcerers in Camelot living a quiet and normal life. They have jobs like me and they’re nobles like Leon. We exist. And we don’t want to see our home destroyed”.

"In fact," he said, and turned to Arthur again. "Remember the tourney where you lost purposely so your father could win?”

“Yes, there was a peasant lad who placed second. Father beat him of course” Arthur smiled proudly at the memories.

“He was a sorcerer who inherited his powers from his father just like me. His name is Gilli, and his father was a kind man who never used magic to harm others — in fact, he died knowing he could save himself using magic, but he refused. Gilli is still my friend"

“But he fought using a sword, not magic?” Confusion clouded Arthurs's features.

“Exactly. You never knew he had magic, you only saw a competent fighter. Gilli wanted to kill Uther, or at the very least humiliate him. But he changed his mind once I told him about you. He and I both know what it’s like to watch a father die, and he didn’t want you to go through the same thing”

At this Leon sputtered "You mean to tell us that a sorcerer who sought Uther`s death...simply changed his mind! How?"

“Because I was kind to him." Merlin smiled and blushed at the coo`s Gwaine made. The knight was lazily laying against the log with a drink in his hand, smiling at Merlin across the fire. He was half tempted to box his ears, but instead, he continued.

"Because I offered him friendship and kinship. We still keep in touch. Last I heard he was in Nemeth fighting in their tourneys. He’s become quite the champion” Pride was evident in his voice, and his eyes beamed as he thought back on the many letters Gilli had sent him over the years.

Arthur seemed to calm down at that. He obviously remembered the boy and was now revisiting the memories in a different light. To think that his father may have died in that arena, that he would've been an orphan if not for Merlin's interference.

To think that a sorcerer seeking revenge simply changed his mind at the offer of friendship? Merlin saw a plot to kill the king, intervened, and kept quiet about it despite the possibility of a reward, simply because he wanted a friend. How could he ever think Merlin could be corrupted? Is magic not corruptive at all? Arthur needed to know for certain.

"Answer me this; Does magic corrupt at all. We all saw what it did to Morgana, how she turned spiteful and evil. Or is that also another of my father's lies?"

“Dark magic can certainly corrupt, and Morgana dabbled in it. Magic is all about balance, that much you know. You give and you take, and it’s closely tied to your emotions. She is angry and vengeful, so her magic will reflect that. But she takes too much without giving back -- the Gods are not happy with her for tearing the veil. She will be punished, and thus become even more angry, and the cycle will continue."

He shuddered at this. "But no, not all magic corrupts. I’ve never been good at healing spells, I’m better at dealing direct damage, jsut like you in a fight. I’m good at sneaking around, so my magic can be subtle. Gaius on the other hand, is a studious person with an interest in the human body, so his healing abilities are much better than mine. But Morgana…” Merlin trailed off, unsure if he should speak further.

Arthur nodded and wordlessly told him to continue.

“Well, think back to all the years you’ve known her. She’s always been proud and forceful. She could be stubborn as a goat, and once she made her mind up it was near impossible to change it. She stood up to your father many times, and even spent days in the cells for it. She was kind and playful yes, but also competitive and cunning. She knew how to play court and put up a false face”

Arthur couldn't disagree with that. It is true all he said. Morgana was his dear friend and sister for most of his life, but they too, had their spats and disagreements. She could be angry and dangerous at times if provoked. If Sir Leon's facial expressions were correct, he was also thinking back to what she was like.

"So it wasn`t magic that corrupted her. But it helped her achieve her goals. It was her, not Dragoon, who placed the love poultice in Gwens house. She used your father's paranoia of magic to frame her former friend to be rid of your future queen."

Arthur's eyes shot wide open at this. "Morgana was willing to let Gwen burn at the stake for a crime she has never committed?! I always knew we were not enchanted, but I thought that was just Dragoon being bad at magic”

“No, the love you two shared was real, and it frightened Morgana. She saw Gwen as a potential future queen and so she wanted her to die. It's no surprise why Gwen was so terrified she broke off your courtship.” Merlin looked sheepishly to Lancelot who had benefitted from this broken engagement.

The Prince Regent looked furious at this, but his anger was not directed towards either his knight or former love. The sting of betrayal ran deep, and the realisation that Morgana had turned her back on them earlier than he knew, was a painful one. Beside him, Merlin concluded.

"Now is probably the right time to tell you that I was Dragoon. I realised Morganas plot and changed my appearance to take the blame. Gwen was freed, and I escaped execution. Morgana was enraged, but thankfully she never realised it was I. So instead, she’s now afraid there is an old, dodgy sorcerer following and sabotaging her." Merlin giggled at the thought. It was kinda funny.

Elyan, Lancelot, and Arthur began speaking all at once. Their words drowned each other out, but it was easy to understand them. They were both furious at Merlin's lack of self-preservation, as well as thankful that he foiled Morgana's plan. Merlin let them ramble on for a few minutes before he waved his hand to silence them.

"Like I said, Morgana isn’t evil because of magic. She has always known how to anger and push you, how to act two-faced and conniving. The only difference is that she can now also utilize magic to further her goals"

The knights nodded at that. Arthur knew his friend was right, but it still hurt to hear. Beside him, Merlin had lifted his hands to his mouth and whispered a spell into them. Eyes shining brighter than Arthur’s crown. When he opened his fists, a small delicate butterfly emerged, flying from his hands and over to Lancelot. It landed on his nose.

Arthur smiled at the sight.

“You’ve seen magic used for evil before, but you have also seen it sued for healing. Morgana tore the veil using magic, and I fixed it using magic. You once believed that not all magic is used for evil, that it can be used for good. I hope that I can make you believe in that again.”

The blue butterfly flutters from knight to knight, standing out in the darkness. Seemingly taking a shine to Percival and stays seated on his head for the rest of the evening, while the men chat idly about nothing and everything. Merlin had never felt more happy than he did in this moment.

Things would need to change, and trouble was brewing on the horizon with Morgana yet defeated. But Merlin smiled to himself as he realised his friends didn’t hate him, and that they believed him about his magic.

Arthur believed him!

It was everything he had ever wanted and more.

Late at night when the others are asleep, Merlin and Arthur distance themselves from them. The Prince walks them over to a large rock, where they sit down, side by side like they always do. Arthur's chainail felt old against Merlins thin jacket, but the happiness he felt from finally being seen, kept him warm.

Arthur took Merlins hand in his. “I don’t understand” Said he.

“You have all this power. You’re a warlock and a dragonlord; you’re trusted by all the knights and even members of the court. You’re a noble with direct ties to the kingdom of Elmet, you could be King of the Perilous Lands. Why on earth are you still a servant? Others would’ve taken over the kingdom by now! Used me as a puppet King to do their own bidding”

“That’s not why I do it”

“Then why?”

“Some people are born to plow the fields, to sharpen swords, to sail ships. You Arthur, are born to be a great King. And I was born to be your servant, and I’m proud of that. I would never want to change a thing”

“Do you really believe that?” Arthur sounded hesitant, desperate almost, for the validation that he knew only Merlin could provide.

“I believe in you more than I believe in anything else. I know our destiny is true because I met you. You made it true — you made me believe in you, and therefore we made it real. One day you will be the greatest King Albion has ever known, and I will be there at your side"

Arthur held their joined hands close to his chest. “Do you promise to never lie to me again. To always tell the truth, even if it hurts me?”

“Yes, Sire. You have my word”

“Then I believe you.” He looked over to his servant. Their faces were closer than comfortable, and their voices hushed as they whispered in the misty night.

“Merlin" He began but found he needed a moment to gather himself. Melrin offered him one of his usual dopey smiles and it filled him with the courage and determination that he needed.

"I don’t know how to be King without you by my side. I don’t know how to do anything really, without you there to support me. I need you. And I cannot loose you. My heart would break and I’d go mad with grief like my father”

The very thought of losing Merlin hurt him more than he could ever put into words. The terror of these last few days, of watching Melrin almost die, the reveal and betrayal of his magic, had finally taken its toll on him. The Prince broke down in tears. 

Arthurs's voice shook with tears as he finally admitted. “I need you…to always just be you” His eyes shone wetly and he hoped that Merlin would understand him. That Merlin would understand his heart, the way he always seemed to understand his soul. 

Thankfully, Merlin is not so much of an idiot as Arthur seemed to think.

"You will always have me, Arthur. And I will never leave your side." Merlin promised his prince as he closed his eyes, and met Arthur's lips in a soft and everloving kiss.

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN || SEASON 4 EPISODE 03 || THE FALSE BRIDE ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

We climbed a granite ledge, thick with moss and lichen, wet with the omnipresent flow of water, then followed the path of a descending freshet, brushing aside long grass that pulled at our legs, dodging the drooping branches of mountain laurel and the thick-leaved rhododendrons. Wonders sprang up by my feet, small orchids and brilliant fungi, trembling and shiny as jellies, shimmering red and black on fallen tree trunks. Dragonflies hung over the water, jewels immobile in the air, vanishing in mist. I felt dazed with abundance, ravished by beauty. Jamie’s face bore the dream-stunned look of a man who knows himself sleeping, but does not wish to wake. Paradoxically, the better I felt, the worse I felt, too; desperately happy—and desperately afraid. This was his place, and surely he felt it as well as I. In early afternoon we stopped to rest and drink from a small spring at the edge of a natural clearing. The ground beneath the maple trees was covered with a thick carpet of dark green leaves, among which I caught a sudden telltale flash of red. “Wild strawberries!” I said with delight. The berries were dark red and tiny, about the size of my thumb joint. By the standards of modern horticulture, they would have been too tart, nearly bitter, but eaten with a meal consisting of half-cooked cold bear meat and rock-hard corn dodgers, they were delicious—fresh explosions of flavor in my mouth; pinpricks of sweetness on my tongue. I gathered handfuls in my cloak, not caring for stains—what was a little strawberry juice among the stains of pine pitch, soot, leaf smudges and simple dirt? By the time I had finished, my fingers were sticky and pungent with juice, my stomach was comfortably full, and the inside of my mouth felt as though it had been sandpapered, from the tartly acid taste of the berries. Still, I couldn’t resist reaching for just one more. Jamie leaned his back against a sycamore, eyelids half lowered against the dazzle of afternoon sun. The little clearing held light like a cup, still and limpid.

“What d’ye think of this place, Sassenach?” he asked. “I think it’s beautiful. Don’t you?”

He nodded, looking down between the trees, where a gentle slope full of wild hay and timothy fell away and rose again in a line of willows that fringed the distant river. “I am thinking,” Jamie said, a little awkwardly. “There is the spring here in the wood. That meadow below—” He waved a hand toward the scrim of alders that screened the ridge from the grassy slope. “It would do for a few beasts at first, and then the land nearer the river might be cleared and put in crops. The rise of the land here is good for drainage. And here, see …” Caught by visions, he rose to his feet, pointing. I looked carefully; to me, the place seemed little different from any of the steep wooded slopes and grassy coves through which we had wandered for the last couple of days. But to Jamie, with his farmer’s eye, houses and stock pens and fields sprang up like fairy mushrooms in the shadows of the trees. Happiness was sticking out all over him, like porcupine quills. My heart felt like lead in my chest. “You’re thinking we might settle here, then? Take the Governor’s offer?” He looked at me, stopping abruptly in his speculations. “We might,” he said. “If—” He broke off and looked sideways at me. Sun-reddened as he was, I couldn’t tell whether he was flushed with sun or shyness.

“D’ye believe in signs at all, Sassenach?”

“What sorts of signs?” I asked guardedly. In answer, he bent, plucked a sprig from the ground, and dropped it into my hand—the dark green leaves like small round Chinese fans, a pure white flower on a slender stem, and on another a half-ripe berry, its shoulders pale with shade, blushing crimson at the tip.

“This. It’s ours, d’ye see?” he said. “Ours?” “The Frasers’, I mean,” he explained. One large, blunt finger gently prodded the berry. “Strawberries ha’ always been the emblem of the clan—it’s what the name meant, to start with, when a Monsieur Fréselière came across from France wi’ King William that was—and took hold of land in the Scottish mountains for his trouble.”

King William that was. William the Conqueror, that was. Perhaps not the oldest of the Highland clans, the Frasers had still a distinguished heritage. “Warriors from the start, were you?” “And farmers, too.” The doubt in his eyes was fading into a smile. I didn’t say what I was thinking, but I knew well enough that the thought must lie in his mind as well. There was no more of clan Fraser save scattered fragments, those who had survived by flight, by stratagem or luck. The clans had been smashed at Culloden, their chieftains slaughtered in battle or murdered by law. Yet here he stood, tall and straight in his plaid, the dark steel of a Highland dirk by his side. Warrior and farmer both. And if the soil beneath his feet was not that of Scotland, it was free air that he breathed—and a mountain wind that stirred his hair, lifting copper strands to the summer sun. I smiled up at him, fighting back my growing dismay.

“Fréselière, eh? Mr. Strawberry?

He grew them, did he, or was he only fond of eating them?” “Either or both,” he said dryly, “or it was maybe only that he was redheided, aye?” I laughed, and he hunkered down beside me, unpinning his plaid.

“It’s a rare plant,” he said, touching the sprig in my open hand. “Flowers, fruit and leaves all together at the one time. The white flowers are for honor, and red fruit for courage—and the green leaves are for constancy.”

My throat felt tight as I looked at him. “They got that one right,” I said. He caught my hand in his own, squeezing my fingers around the tiny stem.

“And the fruit is the shape of a heart,” he said softly, and bent to kiss me.

The tears were near the surface; at least I had a good excuse for the one that oozed free. He dabbed it away, then stood up and pulled his belt loose, letting the plaid fall in folds around his feet. Then he stripped off shirt and breeks and smiled down at me, naked. “There’s no one here,” he said. “No one but us.” I would have said this seemed no reason, but I felt what it was he meant. We had been for days surrounded by vastness and threat, the wilderness no farther away than the pale circle of our fire. Yet here, we were alone together, part and parcel of the place, with no need in broad daylight to hold the wilderness at bay. “In the old days, men would do this, to give fertility to the fields,” he said, giving me a hand to rise. “I don’t see any fields.” And wasn’t sure whether to hope I never would. Nonetheless, I skimmed off my buckskin shirt, and pulled loose the knot of my makeshift brassiere. He eyed me with appreciation. “Well, no doubt I shall have to cut down a few trees first, but that can wait, aye?”

We made a bed of plaid and cloaks, and lay down upon it naked, skin to skin among the yellow grasses and the scent of balsam and wild strawberries. We touched each other for what might have been a very long time or no time at all, together in the garden of earthly delight. I forced away the thoughts that had plagued me up the mountain, determined only to share his joy for as long as it lasted. I grasped him tight and he breathed in deep and pressed himself hard into my hand. “And what would Eden be without a serpent?” I murmured, fingers stroking. His eyes creased into blue triangles, so close I could see the black of his pupils. “And will ye eat wi’ me, then, mo chridhe? Of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil?” I put out the tip of my tongue and drew it along his lower lip in answer. He shivered under my fingers, though the air was warm and sweet. “Je suis prest,” I said. “Monsieur Fréselière.” His head bent and his mouth fastened on my nipple, swollen as one of the tiny ripe berries. “Madame Fréselière,” he whispered back. “Je suis à votre service.” And then we shared the fruit and flowers, and the green leaves covering all.

16 THE FIRST LAW OF THERMODYNAMICS

[awkward-tension-art]

Bacta and Bandages Chp.9 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 8. Epilogue

Crystals

CW: Slow burn, Two fools trying to ignore their crushes, underground caves, non-canon planet and species, talk of unfair treatment of clones, being lost, kisses, Anakin is a little shit, Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

Tag list (Thank you everyone!): @heavenseed76 @arctrooper69 @ghostlyembassy @notgonnaedit @tentakelspektakel

You couldn’t breathe. 

Your mouth filled with cold water, flooding your taste buds with salt and dirt. Shouting wasn’t possible as you tumbled under the harsh current. It threw you, disorienting your senses. At some point, you dropped again into another running body of water. A smaller waterfall, you guessed. 

Your back slammed into what you assumed was the bottom of the river. 

An iron grip on your arm yanked you upward, letting your head breach the surface to take in a lungful of air. Despite getting your face above water, it still tried to ragdoll your body under the current. 

That same grip continued to pull you, and once you got your bearings, you started kicking your legs. You opened your eyes, barely making out Rex’s blue and white armor treading the same dark, cold water. His presence grounded you, and it was like everything snapped together all at once. You moved your hand, holding his tightly as you both fought against the heavy current to get to the edge of the river. 

Your feet hit smooth stones and allowed you to stabilize. With your boots on the ground, you and your Captain stumbled out of the freezing rapids. 

Once you were out of the dangerous clutches of the current, you fell to your knees, breathing heavily. 

Rex did the same, pulling off his helmet to cough up water. As he tried to get his breath back, he hit his com, “G-General Skywalker…” He croaked, only to be met with static. After getting no response, he pressed it again, “Commander Tano…?” 

Static. 

You lowered your head, swallowing. Coms didn’t work…

Of course they didn’t work.

After a stretch of silence, you spoke, “Are you hurt?” Looking around the two of you, you took in your surroundings. You both had surfaced in another cavern. This one had large silver shards protruding from the walls, ceiling and floor. Glowing moss and mushrooms lit up the area, so you weren’t entirely blind.

Rex perked up, moving to stand and offering a hand to you, “No, I’m not….Are you?”

You took it and stood, giving him a small smile, “I’m good. Let's…find a way back.”

He nodded, putting his helmet back on, “Stay close. We don’t know what might be hiding in the damn walls.”

You nodded and followed, brushing a hand over one of the massive metal fragments. Unsurprisingly, they were cold. Almost icy to the touch. If you had to guess, the water you and Rex tumbled in had come from the surface. 

As the two of you walked through the underground paths, the Captain would periodically check his com, hoping to get a connection to the General or Commander. 

As you navigated the tunnels, the metal shards began to be replaced with more of the coral like stone, moss and glowing mushroom plants. Crystal embedded in the ceiling gave a soft light, looking more like stars than gems. 

It was…rather pretty. 

You reached up, hand brushing over a white, glowing lily speckled with black. However, once you touched it, the flower closed suddenly and shrank into the rock it was growing out of. There were more up ahead and they grew in number, the further you and Rex walked. 

The underground tunnel opened up into a chamber that was more grotto than cavern. The air echoed with the running water of a stream. Moss, patches of grass and flowers replaced the cold rock of the ground. Vines, with small glowing berries, hung from branching stalagmites and protruding crystals on the wall. Small bugs, which lit up with a soft golden white light, danced around both you and the clone beside you. 

“Woah…” Your eyes were wide, taking in the rather beautiful area. You stepped forward, raising a finger to one of the glowing bugs. It landed gently on your nail, flexed its wings and hovered off to continue its flying, “It’s…beautiful…”

Rex was looking at you as you spoke, however, you didn’t notice, “Yes…I agree.” He continued onward, trying not to stare too long, “let’s…let’s continue.” clearing his throat, he tried his com again. 

Among the static, you swear you heard Anakin’s voice, “Rex…Collapse…Where….” Rex tried to respond, but was met with more broken distortion.

“The General must be close, if we have a connection.” You perked up, walking over to him. 

“We should still try and find…” The Captain's voice faded off, watching a butterfly with large, bioluminescent wings hover close. He raised a hand to try and swat it but you grabbed his fingers, halting him. it approached, landing softly on his visor. The beautiful bug fluttered its wings a couple of times before going still.  

You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips.

He cleared his throat, “Now, uhh…little bug, that’s…I can’t see.” Slowly, he raised his free hand again, letting the glowing butterfly walk along his palm, “There we go, buddy.” After a few more moments, it beat its massive wings again and got into the air. 

For a second, you forgot you were holding his hand. You didn’t want to let go, even after you began walking again. 

He was the one who pulled away. 

You tried not to let it bother you. Though, it did. 

You’ve realized that your ‘passing crush’ was more than that. There were true, deep feelings for the captain in your heart. Something you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried. 

You wondered when these feelings began.

Was it the time he helped you with your aim?

When he was the one who got the others to sign a card after Ferrum’s death?

One of the many times he thanked you after you bandaged his wounds on the battlefield? 

Or maybe it was when you first saw him smile. When you saw how warm and lovely he looked when he did so. When he smiled, a true, happy smile, he wasn’t the 501st captain. He was Rex. 

You loved Rex. 

And it ruined you. Clones weren’t permitted romantic partners. Even if he had the same feelings, neither of you could pursue them. Not only was it against the rules, he was your Captain, and you were his legions doctor.

You walked behind him, watching his armored back. He was a soldier. A good soldier. He’d never break the rules to be with you. 

So you swallowed your feelings and followed his steps.

The grotto was bigger than you originally thought. It took more than 20 minutes to get to the other side to look for a way forward. You brushed aside some vines, revealing another tunnel. It was pure darkness save for those glowing star-like crystals that dotted the walls and ceilings. The small amount of illumination reflected off multicolored stone. 

When you and Rex stepped forward, it was like you were walking inside the galaxy.

“I can see why the Drosari like living in the tunnels.” the clone beside you spoke quietly, “Though, as pretty as all of this is, I’d like to no longer be underground.”

You let out a small chuckle, “If there wasn’t the threat of a cave-in, I might like it here.” Your hand ghosted over the crystals in the wall, “These caves are beautiful.” 

“I agree, but I think I prefer to have a solid, metal ship around me rather than rock.” Rex responded, shrugging slightly. 

“You prefer a Venator ceiling over an open sky?”

“Well,” He grazed his palm over a cluster of gems that reflected soft purple light, “Other than Kamino, It’s all I’ve ever known as a home.”

Your heart twisted in your chest and you turned to look at him. You couldn’t see his expression through his helmet when you asked your question, “What would your ideal home be?” 

“What?” He seemed surprised by your question. After a few beats the Captain answered, “Truthfully, I haven’t thought about it.”

“Not even a little?” you asked, walking beside him, “When the war is over, where would you like to go?”

“We’re not made to think like that.” Rex took off his helmet, and turned to look at it in his hands, “We’re soldiers. We were made to fight. It’s why we age twice as fast, so when the fighting is done, we…don’t stay for too long.” 

You swallowed, throat tightening.

“And…what if you didn’t age twice as fast?” Your voice shook slightly before you cleared your throat to speak, “You could choose anywhere to live. Where would it be?” Without thinking, you rested a hand against his arm.

“I don’t know.” he sighed, “Why does it matter?”

Your words were stubborn, “Because what you think matters to me.” You don’t know why his answer mattered so much to you. Even in the low crystal light you could tell he was confused by your pressing. 

Rex blinked, “I’m a clone, doc. You don’t need to-”

“You're more than a clone to me.” you stepped forward, getting closer to him, “And you're more than a soldier…”

There was a flick of emotion in his gaze. His eyes reflected the small illuminating crystals, making them look like amber with stars trapped inside.

By the galaxy, his eyes were beautiful. 

He swallowed, looking back at his helmet before meeting your eyes, “I suppose I’d want to…have my home wherever you are.” The nervousness was clear in his tone. And you could feel ever so slight shaking from his arm.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you got closer. With a trembling hand, you raised it to his cheek. 

Rex was tense and frozen in place, looking at you. His gorgeous eyes were a storm of anxiety and uncertainty. His small confession was honest but most likely terrifying for him. He was created and raised to be a soldier, and he was in unknown territory now. 

He wasn’t taught anything more than warfare. 

You held power over him, intentional or not. He was a clone. In the eyes of many he was property with no thoughts or feelings. A droid to take orders, nothing more. He wasn’t allowed rights or liberties.

So you gave him the power to choose what he wanted.

“Rex?” You whispered his name, breath ghosting his skin, “Can I kiss you?” 

The Captain nodded slowly, “Yes…Please…” 

You’d most likely be his first. His first kiss. His first romantic partner. His first…everything.

Gently and slowly, you leaned forward, connecting his lips with yours. It was tender, soft and chaste. But it held so much emotion. The only reason you pulled back was to breathe, but he chased you slightly, following your lips. 

The Captain blinked his eyes open, meeting your gaze. His helmet dropped to the ground, and his palms were on your cheeks. This time, he initiated by leaning forward and kissing you. It was an uncertain kiss, but one that still spoke with so much feeling.

“Gar cuyir ner kar'ta.” He whispered, once you both broke away to breathe properly.

You smiled, leaning against him, “Gar cuyir ner cyar'ika.”

Rex laughed softly, pulling you to kiss you again. 

…Until you heard the clearing of a throat. 

You and the Captain jerked away, eyes wide, coming face-to-face with General Skywalker.

Anakin was standing at the other end of the cave, one eyebrow raised and a satisfied grin on his face. His arms were crossed, and he seemed way too pleased. Like a Loth-cat in a sunbeam. 

Fives was next to him. You could tell by his posture that his jaw was dropped in his helmet.

“G-general!” Rex saluted, “I-we…”

“I knew it,” the Jedi’s grin didn’t falter as he spoke, “Like I said a long time ago, Rex. All of my men are free to pursue whatever relationships they want. I won’t tell a soul. Neither will Fives, right trooper?”

After a second, he nodded, “r-right. Yes sir! I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

The 501st captain let out a relieved sigh, “Thank you, General…But…may I ask, how did you find us? Our coms have been cut off.” 

“I had to use the Force,” He responded, turning to face the exit of the tunnel, “I wasn’t going to leave my most loyal captain or talented doctor to wander around some caves. Now come on, we still have a mining operation to stop.”

You shared a look with your cyar’ika before he put his helmet on to follow. You kept close to him, feeling pure happiness in your chest.

Cyar’ika….

You liked calling Rex that.

[pampushky]

Foot of the Gallows

trafalgar d. water law/reader - chapter 1 - 3.1k

ao3 link | masterlist | series masterlist | next chapter

1.) sunshroom

sunshroom: A mushroom often found in deserts and dry places. It's a beautiful, orange-red color. By drying it, and then turning it to powder, it can be made into a medicine that can then drive away the chills, or added into a stew to safely raise the body temperature of a patient experiencing even the most severe cases of hypothermia.

cw: planned execution, mentioned character death (rip my boy corazon), mentions of past arguments/insults, not a very heavy chapter tbh

content otherwise: angst, friends to enemies to lovers, hella slow burn, law needing to figure out emotions, reader is an apothecary, genuinely just angst and idiots on both sides

The news of Trafalgar D. Water Law’s execution is brought to you by a kindly old woman, with a bad bought of dragon-scale, fetching medicine for herself. She drops the two silver coins in your outstretched hand, the rough patches of her skin brushing against your palm, and you shiver a bit as she hobbles out the door, already popping one of the dried balls of medicine into her mouth, strictly against the instructions you had just given her. 

“Set to be hung tomorrow at mid-day, m’ducky!” She calls over her shoulder, letting out an ugly cackle as she crunches on another ball. “Should have done it from the start, that’s what I was telling Earl this morning!”

You slump into the chair behind your counter and fight the urge to massage your temple, instead washing your hands vigorously before you even start to handle your morning breakfast. You let yourself breathe, after that, leaning over the little basin of water in the back of your shop before you stride back to the front, wiping your hands on your apron, and starting on your orders for the day. 

Hanging was a terrible way to go. No where near as quick, as the crowds who would rush to watch would think. In reality, they died of strangulation, often very slowly, when the rope would fail to snap their neck, which it always did. You know this, because of your father’s teachings, mentoring you in your family’s trade until you were able to work on your own, allowing him to retire to the south of the continent, where he could spend his days with your mother, none of the cold northern winds to make their joints ache.

Somewhere, you feel a pang of horror, that your childhood friend is to die that way. Law, who had been a serious, yet sweet child, was always by your side, helping you gather the herbs and mushrooms you needed, drying lichens with you in the branches of the tall aspen beside your house. He helped wrap your scraped knees and elbows, held tightly to the little cuts on your fingers until the bleeding stopped, and lectured you on the importance of proper hygiene the moment the hair under your arms and on your legs started to grow, waving his two years of age ahead of you like a proud banner, shooting up in height almost overnight. 

Also, the same boy who had shoved you into a puddle of mud and declared that he hated you, before storming away, forever poisoning the bond that had grown between you for nearly fifteen years, turning you from friends to bitter enemies in the split second it took for you to fall to the ground after being pushed. 

Ah, the duality of man. 

It didn’t matter now. A suspiciously brilliant doctor or not, he had been nothing but an ass since your friendship had so abruptly ended. You steeled your heart to his tragedies and accomplishments. You thrived in your own way, continuing with your way of life just as your ancestors before you had, living in the same house, beside the same aspen, making the same kinds of medicine and selling it to the descendants of the people whom your ancestors had helped. 

It didn’t matter at all. Especially not when Law left after his father’s death, and then returned three years later, with white patches of skin covering his body, making it look as though a skull had been painted on his face, or the streaks of bright white in his pitch-black hair. 

So why did that sting of horror never fade? Even as you crushed dried sunshrooms into the mortar until it was a spicy-smelling powder that could be used to drive away the chills, and raise someone’s temperature safely, even in the worst hypothermia cases. That sharp pain never escaped you, thrumming at your heart until you were certain you had eaten something that was starting to mess with you. 

Until you remembered you hadn’t eaten anything at all and gave up on feeling any better about the execution. Events like that always made you uneasy, especially when the imperial Guards would come into your otherwise quiet shop, the horse-hair plumes of their helmets muffling the sweet chime of the entry bell halfway through the ring, looking for a lethal herb or plant that you almost certainly didn’t carry. You hated that despite multiple signs on the door, and after repeatedly writing to the captain of the guard, they still would come asking.

So you set to distracting yourself, putting the powdered sunshroom into a small jar, and then eating an easy breakfast of rice porridge and honey, before getting to the rest of your work for the day with your head down, and definitely not thinking of Law as the day drags on. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Law’s tone is dry, while the shackles slang slightly from around his wrists. He’s sitting on the ground of his cell, caked in dried mud, with a split lip and a black eye. There were other, more well-hidden, wounds from the guard’s interrogation, but they got what they wanted in the end. But still, Bepo looks horrified as he looks at him through the bars of the cell, ears flattened against his head, with his canines bared in sorrow and anger. 

“You look…. Horrible,” Bepo mutters and then starts to shake his head from side to side, squeezing his eyes shut and placing his hands over his ears.

“Thanks,” Law leans his head against the brick wall and closes his eyes. “That’s incredibly helpful, Bepo.” 

“I-I mean, how, you haven’t done anything wrong—”

“I performed a standard procedure from a different country, where the magic I used is outlawed in this one,” Law deadpans, eyes open again on focusing on the ceiling. “So I did do something. And then the guards beat a confession from me, so it’s my word against… well, myself.”

Bepo groans, and slumps to the ground, curled in an awkwardly large ball for how tight the corridor of the city prison is— the detriments of being a polar bear mink. Oh, the things Law would publish if he could, right now. Mainly about the abhorrent conditions of the prisons. Were the people aware of just how terrible the cells were? Or did they simply not care?

Oh well. It didn’t matter now. Law was as good as dead. Ikkaku and Shachi had been researching tirelessly for ways to get out of this without any luck, and Penguin had tried (and failed) to hire any lawyer that was willing to so much as take a look at his case to argue in front of a judge. According to Shachi, once they had so much as heard the words dark magic they had sent him packing, screaming for him to leave immediately before they called for the imperial guards.

“The more accurate term would be lunar magic, but they never want to have that discussion,” Law sighs, and Bepo unravels himself from his despondent ball on the floor, staring at Law with what can only be described as contempt mixed with annoyance. 

Just like you how you looked at him every time he had gone to your shop to stock up on painkillers and other supplies. Surely you’d gotten over what he’d said from when you were teenagers? Having to dodge the pestle that was sent flying at his head answered that question rather quickly, along with Ikkaku and Bepo being the only people allowed in your shop to pick up the supplies he needed. Penguin, Law, and Shachi were recipients of lifetime bans from the shop, which had only happened to two other people in the entire history of your family working there. 

There was no need to punish his patients for his ‘assholery’, according to Bepo, which is the only reason why he was still allowed to get what medicines he needed. But Law being able to enter was soundly out of the question, so he would end up standing awkwardly outside the door, using Bepo or Ikkaku to communicate with you. 

That wouldn’t be an issue to you anymore, he supposed. You could go back to selling your medicines in peace, and probably even get more customers from his death. How morbid of him to think about— the benefits of his untimely demise, and the setbacks that this country would go through because they had decided to execute him rather than letting their medical sciences and their backwater understanding of magic types evolve. 

At least he wouldn’t be able to bother you anymore, gods above knew that you deserved some peace and quiet, not deserving to have the doctor haunting your mind, if he even crossed your mind.

But there was still the issue of how to pass his last day alive, especially while Bepo was still sulking in the hallway, one of his ears twitching slightly at the sound of a shopkeeper singing some song about a man on the way to the gallows. Law didn’t catch much after that– he tended to block such things out to focus on his studies and work. Bepo, however, seemed to be rather interested in something, his head snapping up, before scrambling out of the prison, only saying something about an idea to save Law. 

Law only closes his eyes again and lets himself disassociate as he listens to the near-rhythmic scratching of the rats on the floor. 

The sweet little bell above the door chimes, drawing your attention away from the scale for just a second, staring at the panting polar bear standing in your doorway, one hand pressed against the frame while the other holds the door open, before managing to wheeze out your name, and looking up at you in desperation, and speaking between giants huffs for breath. 

“You…” huff  “...have ta’,” huff  “...help Law.” huff huff. 

“Good afternoon to you too, Bepo,” You speak dryly, and the polar bear can’t help but think about how similar you are to the doctor currently sitting in a cell across the city. “Now, how in the name of Wild Mother would I be able to help a man, who pleaded guilty, by the way, to using dark magic?” You raise an eyebrow, arms folded as you stare him down. “He knew the laws. He should have been more careful– or, I don’t know, not use dark magic.”

The annoyance in your voice is palpable, and you turn your back to him, going back to measuring out a shimmery gold power into a little glass bowl. Your back is stiff, and Bepo can see how tightly you’re holding the little spoon in your hand as you carefully fill the bowl, before adding a few drops of some oil, and then stirring it. You don’t even look back at him, but there is fury in your voice when you realize he still hasn’t left yet when the bell doesn’t chime again after a minute. 

“Bepo, I already told you, there’s no way I can help him,” You turn again, letting out a frustrated sigh as you look at him. “Besides— surely I am the last person that he would want to have to help him out of this mess,” 

“But you are— wait, no, not the last— urgh! I mean, you’re the only one who can help him!” Bepo slams his hands down on the counter, and you look a bit shocked, raising your eyebrow at him again, while he stammers out an apology. 

“That…. is four-hundred-year-old wood,” You sigh, and then look pointedly at the mink, “Explain,” you rub your temple as you speak, thoroughly done with everything to do with Trafalgar Law, and on the verge of considering giving Bepo a lifetime ban for slamming on your counter so harshly. 

“There’s an ancient law— if someone proposes to whoever is on the gallows, their life is spared for a year, and they are retried then, based on how they’ve improved and lived with their spouse,” Bepo talks to you in a frenzy, eyes wide, “You can propose to him— right when he’s going up, and then you can use your influence to help him prove that lunar magic—”

“Get out,” you snarl, and Bepo freezes, looking at you with shock, mouth still open, as though he hasn’t even finished his pitch yet. But you’re done listening and don’t want to hear anything else about this idea. Yet he continues, even as you stalk around the corner of the counter, set on throwing him out yourself, if he won’t leave on his own. 

“Shacchi and Penguin can’t— they’re married, and clearly only interested in each other, and Ikkaku doesn’t court men. I— I’m too publically known not to do anything, so—”

“Get out!”

And with that, Bepo finally takes the hint and leaves, but not before shouting: “At least consider it! Please! You’re his last chance!” 

You close the shop early that day, feeling sick to your stomach as you sit on the floor, knees to your chest, trying to fight off tears as Bepo’s pleas ricochet around your skull. The pain and horror in your heart still haven’t faded, and if anything, they’ve only gotten worse. Damn that man. Damn your fool of a heart, for still clinging to that childhood friendship. And damn the cruelty in Law’s heart for saying those cruel things to you as he shoved you to the ground, his eyes full of nothing but hatred and malice as he towered over you in the rain. 

The chime from the little bell above the door haunts you as you go to sleep for the night after spending several hours on the floor of the main shop with your back to the door, painfully aware that the next time it rings, there’s a good chance Law will be on his way to the gallows. 

><><><

Executions have always been rather…. Obnoxious events. The crowds are too excited for the end of a person’s life, too entertained by the drama of it all, while the guards read out the sentencing, and details of the crimes. Law never quite understood why so many people were so attracted to it— during his apprenticeship across the sea, he had attended many executions, all to collect the body of the criminal, sent to do the dirty work of the medical academy that the second and third years didn’t want to do. 

It’s odd, from the other side of the lens. He can see the bored-looking medical student, with the white-and-gold cloak of a first-year medical student, just as he had worn eight years ago. He can see Shacchi, Penguin, and Ikkaku, in the front row, solemn expressions on their faces, pushed into the barrier by the jeering crowd. It’s an odd mixture of emotions on the faces of the people who’ve come to see him die. Some looked angry, crying out about it being unjustified, and that they were killing an innocent doctor who had done nothing but save countless lives, while others shouted about the god of light and the sun striking him down for his insolence. 

Backwater country, Law sneers in his mind, right when a rotten peach gets pitched at his head, causing him to stumble a bit. The guards, ever merciless, only tug on his shackles harshly and nearly make him fall flat on his face. 

Shachhi lets out an angry shout, and Law watches as Penguin holds him back, straining against his husband. Ikkaku spits at the man, though, and goes down in a flurry of fists and screaming. Bepo is nowhere to be seen, and he is oddly okay with that. The polar bear is sensitive— it would be best if he didn’t see him die this way. 

When Law gets to the steps of the gallows, an odd hush falls over the crowd. He knows it’s because they finally got a better view of him now, and are likely spending the time to really take in his admittedly miserable state. Or at least he thinks that’s what they’re doing, until he turns to look back at his friends, only to see a figure in a dark green cloak, finely embroidered with white leafy and floral details, and looking straight ahead as it marches down the path he had just walked. The vice-captain of the guard, Kizaru, who has to be present for all executions that take place in the capital city, pays no heed to the figure or the silence of the crowd and tiredly reads out the charges levied against him.

The hood falls, just as the figure reaches the foot of the gallows, as the noose is slipped over Law’s head, and there you stand, holding up your hand. 

“I invoke my right to propose to this criminal, in the interest of bettering and upholding our justice system,” Your voice is steady. There is a roll of parchment in your upheld hand, “Here is the ancient law that states this right, should you need me to source the legal right I have to do this,” 

Your eyes are filled with fire, be it fury or determination, Law does not know, but he does know that you look like you are going to throttle him when the two of you go behind closed doors. Bepo somehow appeared behind Shacchi, Penguin, and Ikkaku, looking extremely hopeful while the other three looked utterly baffled. The crowd is whispering amongst itself.

Kizaru only nods, reading the parchment after taking it delicately from your hand, and then gestures for the noose to be taken from Law’s neck, and the shackles unlocked, nudging him off the little stage. 

“We shall discuss this in more detail tomorrow,” Kizaru sighs lazily, shooing Law and yourself away with a flick of his wrist, setting his chin against his other hand, and studying the two of you. “But for now… in the name of our great Empress, and by her divinely-appointed power, I ask the gods to bless your union and re-introduce you to our beloved creators as a married couple. Congratulations." Amusement twinkles in his eyes, before his mood suddenly sours, and he scowls, "...Now get out of my sight.”

The crowd riots the moment he dismisses you, and you drag Law by his wrist in the direction from which he had come not ten minutes earlier, expecting to be executed, only to leave alive, but married, as well. You only keep your gaze forward, cursing under your breath the entire time, the chaos of the botched execution sends the town square into chaos as the two of you disappear into the crowd.

[blu3ypetall]

Notes: Chapter rewrite || plot the same || 3rd Person POV || Longer Chapter || Not proof read.

CW: only one swear word😕 (I think)

Tags ; HTTYD, Hiccup x reader, canon divergence, Norse mythology, How To Train Your Dragon.

Word count: 6123

Masterlist

Part 3

“DISPARATE” — Chapter 2

ᚨᚠᛊᛟᚲᚢᚾ

After a long and perilous journey of running away from Snotlout, (Name) finally managed to slip away from the boy and his constant obnoxious rambling, using the winding village paths to her advantage when getting him off of her tail.

The sun had risen to a peak in the sky, shining down warmly from directly above, and casting its rays down onto the ground gently. Though, even the warmth provided from the sun couldn't clear the frost that plagued the land, mist escaping the girls mouth with every breath she took.

Fog rolled close to the earth, lurking near the ground and cursing the land below with a dew that left it slippery and damp, mud beginning to become cake on the bottom of the girls boots.

The forest behind the village of Berk was a tricky one, large and unforgiving, housing multiple different kinds of animals and creatures within. Including dragons. So, that was perhaps the reason her guard was so high, listening to every singing bird and every wayward snapping stick, just to be sure a scaled beast hadn't stuck around and crept up on her during her quest.

When she began to look for the boy, she hadn't an idea where to look at first, only ever deciding to check the forest behind when she remembered the conversation— or rather argument he had with his father.

"Just off Raven Point," he said, the destination being a wild thicket of trees dressed in moss and tall, length grass that allowed perfect cultivation for the native species.

Fungi branched themselves off of trees and roots, sprouts of mushrooms popping out from crevices, and even the occasional flower managing to bloom itself in the cold weather, the royal purples of the petals bringing a newfound life to the otherwise dreadful forest.

The pine trees stood tall, sheltering the forest floor from the sun above, and only letting a select few streams of light slip past the leaves popping off their branches, drips of water falling from the stems.

(Name's) eyes looked ahead, focused on the disturbed foliage and footprints carved into the mud that seemed an awfully familiar shape. The imprint resembled her own, but that only made sense seeing as everyone in the village got their shoes from the same cordwainer, as there was only one.

Bushes were shifted out of the way, an obvious aversion to the prickling leaves being made as the tracks kept on going— the person whom had made them making no attempt to cover their trail.

The art of tracking was one that was practiced a fair amount in the village, as at a young age— everyone was taught how to find elk and dragons, as those were the main targets of the village that were actively hunted.

Elk were a food source, their meat being plentiful and enough to feed the village for a long amount of time— had the stores of meat not been raided, and dragons were pests, the flying thieves that depleted their resources, and were to be eliminated.

Anywho, the prints in the soil were fresh— not too deep and seemingly spaced close together. Whoever was going through here was light weight, and travelling at a walking speed. Hiccup was the obvious answer.

The eerie nature of the forest seemed to enhance the lingering fears that hung in the back of her mind, floating around like whispers that reminded her of the large possibility of a Night Fury occupying the forest. She'd heard it, the roar of pain that came from a dragon getting hit, and Hiccup claimed he saw it fall.

The boy was on a suicide mission at the least, and a wish for the most gruesome death possible at the most. What if the Night Fury had escaped the bola? What if Hiccup had already been eaten— and then she'd have to be the one to break the news to the chief? Gods, that would go terribly.

"Hey chief! I know I said your son never shot down the Night Fury, but he actually did— and now it ate him!" Yeah... that would go really swell.

The forest ahead was both different at every turn, but the same at the very same time. A labyrinth of leaves with no major land marks to tell her where she was— except for one.

Up ahead, a tree, it was split right in two jagged parts, with one side bending downwards into a spiked slope, joining in with the angled pit that was carved into the grass, kicking up the blades of green and replacing them with a soiled brown.

(Name) paused, eyes lingering on the branch that bent itself into a curved line and following where it trailed downwards. Her gaze travelled down the slope, and so did she, clambering down the divot carefully, making sure her foot didn't catch on a stray rock and slip.

She couldn't afford to fall flat on her butt right now, especially when she had no idea what was right around the corner. The dirt was wet against her finger tips, sticking to her skin and moistening the surface. Her hands grasped at the ground below as she slowly crawled over, prowling up where the dirt ran back up.

She peered over, alert and aware of everything that was happening in her line of sight.

The moment she saw the other side, it was a sight for alarm. Shredded grass and claw marks littering the floor, a broken bola torn and strewn across the ground, not to mention the drops of blood that she could barely see poking out from the ground.

Though, the worst part was the head of hair face down against the floor. Her eyes widened, breath hitching harshly at the body lying seemingly lifeless on the floor, and she wasted no time and vaulting over the ramp, rushing down to the person.

"Hiccup—!" She called out to the unconscious form, kneeling down beside the boy and hovering by his figure, tense and unsure of what to do. Carefully, she grabbed his shoulders and rolled his body over to face up— bringing his face away from inhaling any extra dirt and giving him the luxury of fresh air, if he was even breathing that is.

Her eyes scanned his chest, awaiting some kind of movement to come from his otherwise limp form. It was hard to tell whether he was breathing or not, the thick fur vest he wore over his tunic made seeing little movements all the more impossible, causing (Name) to have to strain her eyes to get a good look at him.

After a few seconds, she was finally able to breathe easily once his chest rose, before falling again in a repeated movement. It was subtle, but he was breathing— and the tension within her muscles could finally drain, letting her slump her shoulders in relief.

"Thank Thor," she grumbled under her breath, shifting to sit cross-legged beside him, nudging the unconscious boy. "Hey, Hiccup," she nudged him again, attempting to awaken the 'sleeping' boy by calling out his name.

Not only did she need to make sure he wouldn't end up like some of those unfortunate Vikings, who fell into what seemed to be an endless slumber, she wanted to know what the hell happened, and just why exactly he was unconscious on the floor in the middle of the woods.

"Hiccup— hey! Hiccup. Hiccup, wake the hel up!" She kept nagging him, tapping his shoulder over and over again, but she didn't receive more than a soft breath in response, much to her dismay.

"Oh gods... HICCUP! WAKE UP!" She screamed, making sure her voice echoed through the trees, her cry loud enough to likely be heard from the village with just how much force she used to bark at the boy.

After her defeating shout, the lad shot right up from where he sat— and slammed his forehead right into the girls, causing her to reel back in pain. "Ow!" They cried in sync, Hiccup raising a hand to his head, wincing in pain with (Name) blinking herself out of the hard knock to the head.

"Jeez— I feel bad for whoever wakes you up in the morning..." she mumbled, pushing herself up to stand and brushing her hands against the fabric of her tunic, wiping away the dirt that had clung to the material.

"Huh?" Hiccup croaked, taking in his surroundings and locking his vision on the girl who had woken him up from his beauty sleep of the ground. "Oh. It's you," he deadpanned, his mood swinging immediately to a soured state at the recognition.

(Name) blinked at the disappointing reaction, crossing her arms over her chest as a slight pang of offence hit her. "What's that supposed to mean?" She huffed, frowning at the boy whom pushed himself off the floor and stood, though he was a little shaky in the way he held himself.

"Nothin' just... didn't expect you," he hummed, dusting off his clothes and turning away without another word— making his way back over to the ramp that led up and out of the crash site.

(Name) watched him, her eyebrows raising as he turned to leave. "Hey— wait a minute! What were you even doing here? Did you actually catch the dragon?" She rushed up next to him, her eyes not once straying from his form as he jumped the hurdle of dirt in his way, (Name) clambering up after him.

"What's does it matter?" He avoided the question, a straight answer being something that the boy wasn't capable of producing. "Well— did you actually hit it or not?" She pushed onwards, catching up and walking on the path beside him, long weeds brushing against her legs.

"Yeah," he sighed, his tone deflated and his posture slumped sadly as he walked along at the pace of a sad sack. (Name) stared at him upon his answer, eyes locked on the twisting expression of his face and analysing it.

"But— there was no body," she pointed out, the images of the broken bola flashing like a searing burn inside of her mind. Hiccup looked at her from the corner of his eyes, his frown twitching in annoyance. "I know," he continued to be bland with his responses, the answers not quite satisfying to the hunger of an answer (Name) craved.

"Did it get out—? Are you sure you're alright?" She kept pressing forward, her nosiness both annoying but useful. He stopped in his tracks, causing (Name) to end up ahead of him as she herself stopped, turning back to face the boy who suddenly stood still.

"It got away. Happy?" He snapped, snarling at the lass standing parallel to him. His answer was meant to stop the questions, but it seemed to only aggravate more to be raised, boundless ends of curiosity flooding through the girl.

"No! How are you not dead?!" She scoffed, her brows pinching inwards into a strained furrow, the muscles constricting closer to one another and twisting her other features into a strong grimace. "I don't know! It's not like it matters! Nobody thinks I even shot it!" He yelled at her, causing a recoil of shock to hit her.

Hiccup rarely ever got upset to a point of snapping, at least from what she knew. He always wallowed in silence and accepted the shame, but this— this burst of confidence that came in the form of sarcasm was strange. Very strange.

"Well— I— how was anyone meant to believe you did!? You destroyed half the village and always lie!" She fought back, defending her own position on the matter. "But you saw it! You didn't even tell anyone and made me look like a fool again! I had a chance— a chance to become an actual Viking, and you screwed it up!" The loud booms of the twos voices bellowed like a thundering roar, bouncing off of the labyrinth of trees and further accentuating the loud tones.

(Name) bit back another argument, his words striking the fizzle of guilt that had festered earlier this morning, the fresh wound openly having salt poured right into it, the grains grinding off of every word he let slip out against her.

"I actually hit it— but you couldn't even back me up!" He continued, his jaw clenched hard. His green eyes were narrowed down, glaring holes right through her soul and pride, damaging the ego she had finally managed to build.

The two stared at each other, neither backing down from their stances of defence. The tension was palpable, thick enough to slice through with a knife, and heavy enough for (Name) to feel the weight of his emotions weigh down on her physically.

The silence continued, loud and ringing with undertones of frustration that seemed to stretch on for eternity. After a prolonged period of silence, Hiccup made the first move, stepping around (Name) and stomping his way down the path ahead without her trailing behind him.

Being stubborn wasn't uncommon, especially within their tribe, but that meant arguments were all the more difficult to resolve. When neither party wanted to back down and admit they may have been wrong, how was the anger to die down and flee?

(Name) rotated on her heel, watching him walk ahead of her— and this time, she didn't make a move to catch up. She stood there, waiting for ages for the boy to get ahead of her, just so that she wouldn't run into him again on the walk back to the village.

Despite the argument, and how she had defended herself, (Name) knew she was wrong. But how was she to admit that? How was she meant to swallow her pride and admit her wrong doings, especially considering the weight of them.

It was a heavy debt really. Not only had she lied about Hiccup's accomplishments, she had lied to the entire village, and the chief himself, and that wasn't exactly the best thing to do.

Hiccup was right. She knew it. She had taken away the chance he had to finally be recognised. She had taken her hand away right when he reached for it to pull himself out of the pit he had fallen into. She'd left him back to wallow in that state of shame and judgement, and she knew that he had every right to be angry at her.

But she wasn't going to admit that. Not yet, at least.

❝every bit the boar-headed stubborn Viking you ever were.❞

Walking through the village felt like a task in itself. Even if nobody knew she had lied about what Hiccup did— it felt like they did. Every stare felt mocking. Every whisper didn't feel like the private conversation it likely was, it felt like whispers about her— about her mistake.

She was glad to finally have reached her hut, hiding within the wooden expanse of privacy, and releasing a tensed breath that she hadn't realised she'd been holding. The strange hollowness of guilt still lingered, but it was more so overpowered by the feeling of doubt that she'd grown over the trek.

The fireplace was lit, the crackles drawing her attention as she looked towards the orange blaze, the fire still roaring with life as it feasted on the chopped logs it'd been given. At least the warmth of the hearth was enough to burn away the chilling air that stuck to her skin, but it sadly wasn't enough to rid her of the cold regret plaguing her soul.

(Name) padded towards the fire, coming to rest herself on the wooden chairs padded with wool, her body sinking into the cotton that cushioned it. As he relaxed down into the couch, the door of the house creaked open, drawing her attention.

She looked towards the newly born light seeping in from the outside, some of the streams blocked out by the shadow of a figure— her mother, entering the house with a large wicker basket strung onto her back.

"(Name), 'ave you seen me axe?" The woman asked, passing by her daughter and heading straight for the loft, climbing the stairs with ease. "No..." (Name) grumbled, staring at the high concave ceiling, support beams lining just below where it was sealed together.

The rustle of searching from the upper floor was suddenly stopped, silence pouring in for a few moments before rushing footsteps huddled back down to the ground floor, her mother rounding the couch and looking down at her daughter with an inquisitive look.

"What got yer so upset hun?" She stared down at (Name), hands gently placed on her hips as she awaited a response. (Name) looked over at the upside down figure of her mother, before sitting up and shifting to face her fully.

"It's nothing.." she hummed, but the reassurance was an obvious facade that her mother saw right through, coming over to sit herself down next to her daughter, staring at the young girl.

"Awh, don't pull that yak-dung wit' me. I know when somethin's up," her mother snorted, shaking her head with a small smile on her face. (Name) lowered her head, looking to her hands that fiddled with the arm warmers wrapped around them, picking at the twine that kept them held up.

"I just— I did something.. to someone, and they got mad at me, and I don't know how to fix it.. or make it up to them," she shrugged, her voice low and dampened, like the soil outside that was constantly walked over.

Despite the vague explanation, (Name's) mother understood it was likely something her daughter wasn't fully ready to admit too, but she still wanted to fix it— which.. was an understandable feeling.

"Well... I can't help yer with makin' it up to t'em. But... I can't help yer on how to apologise," her mother hummed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and pulling the girl in for a side hug, her head being rested on her mothers armour.

"How do I—? I don't know what to say," she admitted, peering up to the older woman who looked down at her with a soft gaze, as if she were a mere newly born fawn learning how to stand. "Well, first off, do you know you did something wrong..?" Her mother asked, gently rubbing her daughter's shoulder comfortingly.

"Yeah— I'm pretty sure I did," she nodded, looking back down to her fingers that picked at each other, snipping away at the cuticles. "Then, you want to admit you were wrong," her mother started, leaning away from the younger girl and grasping her hands to stop the fiddling, holding them gently in her own larger ones.

"It may seem hard, and it is— but admitting yer wrong is the best thing you can do in those situations. You own what you did, and you grow from it," the brown haired woman continued, her words a gentle lullaby that was a stark contrast from the earlier yelling, but it wasn't an unwanted one.

"So, I admit what I did was wrong... then apologise— and then make it up to them?" (Name) concluded, looking back up to her mother who nodded with a soft smile. "Exactly. If yet want to know something, folks love it when someone can admit they're wrong, which is why half te village can't get along," the woman snickered to herself, the backhanded joke towards the rest of the tribe sparking another set of laughter within (Name) herself.

"I guess... thanks, mum. Sorry— I was just really stuck, and I didn't know what to do," (Name) shrugged, a small smile set on her own face that matched her mother's. "Ah, don't apologise to me hun, feelin' upset about these things just means you care," her mother shrugged, pulling away her hands and relinquishing her daughter's hands back to herself.

"I guess— well, I'm gonna go find them," (Name) stated, standing up from the couch and walking over towards the door of the hut. "Right'o. Me and yer father will be in a meeting for a few hours, so if yer can't find us, that's why. Love yer hun!" Her mother announced as she left, the girl only hearing the last part for a split second before she was back outside in the chilling cold.

Her teeth chattered as a gust of wind blew by, the frost already biting at her skin— and it wasn't even fully winter yet. "Gods... it's cold," she shivered, walking away from her hut, heading in the direction of the towns square.

Objective no.1, find Hiccup. The first step of that— where does Hiccup usually hang out? Oh. She hadn't ever really paid attention to that, considering she never hung out with the boy. Though, she knew he worked at the forge commonly, so that was the best place to look for now.

She walked with a determination seeping into her step, the cold winds not stopping her as she headed through the strangely empty village towards the open walled building that was the forge. Clangs came from inside, the sharp sound of metal pressing against metal ringing painfully against her ear drums, but she approached anyway.

As she came up to the stall, she spotted the familiar short boy with auburn hair hammering away at a burning hot piece of iron that glowed red, the malleable material being moulded into what appeared to be a sword.

She stood there awkwardly, trying not to flinch everytime the hammer the boy held came down onto the in progress weapon below all the while waiting for him to notice her.

She couldn't truly tell if he hadn't noticed her, or if he was purposefully ignoring her— but either way, she'd been standing here for longer than she wanted, her legs already beginning to give her grief after standing in one spot for so long.

Mustering up the pitiful courage, she cleared her throat, finally announcing her presence. "Hiccup..?" She grabbed the boys attention, and her voice was much meeker than she would have liked it to be, a fear of the outcome making her tone quake.

The bangs stopped, and Hiccup craned his neck, turning back to look at the girl with a still soured expression, one that made her cringe internally. "What?" He went straight to the point, no nonsense lurking in his tone and the unwillingness to talk to her was obvious.

"I Uhm— I wanted to... talk about earlier," she began, leaning her hands against the stalls counter and once again fiddling with the arm warmers wrapped around her hands, unconsciously picking at the threads. Hiccup raised an eyebrow, his sour expression relaxing ever so slightly, and it seemed even a glimmer of hope reflected in his eyes, but (Name) didn't exactly notice it.

"Mmh?" He hummed, turning to fully face her with the large hammer still held in the grasp of his hand. As he turned, (Name) was able to get a good look at his subtle but interesting outfit change— one she hadn't exactly seen before, but there's probably a lot she hadn't seen before.

Instead of the dark and matted fur vest he usually wore, he instead had a on a lighter brown leather apron over the top of his lengthy green tunic, the material having some stains of some black liquid on it— likely some kind of oil she didn't know about.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I thought about it— and... you were right," she took a breath, trying to calm the random adrenaline her heart pumped out, and taking a dry gulp before continuing on with her apology.

"I should have told everyone what you did. It was wrong of me not to. I'm sorry about that. I know I can't just tell everyone now, because the dragon's gone.. but I would like to make it up to you," she finished, finally raising her gaze and meeting his eyes, her speech finished and now only the anxiety of the response awaited.

It surprised her, the look on his face. She expected something like a dreadful scorn, maybe a look of anger that would have still lingered around like a scourge even after she had spoke her apology, but nothing of the sort was present. Hiccup looked... surprised.

His eyes were widened, the green more visible now— and she couldn't help but take in every feature of his face within this moment she had been gifted. His brows were bushy, untamed but naturally shaped in a way that was charming against his other features. The contour of his jaw wasn't as strong as the other Vikings, baby fat still holding onto his cheeks, but that only added to his complexion.

Freckles dotted his face, splattered like splotches of paint that stretched all over him, leaving not a singular space untouched. His skin in the shade of the forge seemed dull, but she could still spot the tint of pink it usually had with the undertones of his blood.

The way his lips had parted allowed for a view of his teeth, crooked, but in a cute way— the gap between his two buck teeth making him seem like a rabbit in some kind of way.

She hadn't actually taken the time to properly look at the boy before, but... he was cute. Not handsome, but cute. He was technically a runt, and that explained why he looked slightly younger than the rest of the kids his age, but on him— it suited. All his features mashed together so well that it was strange.

Even the bell shaped brown hair that had streaks of red in it added to him, the natural colours of his eyes, skin and face all melding together nicely, bringing out each other in a way that not even the greatest of artists could capture. He stole her breath away without even doing anything, and it made her embarrassed, her cheeks reddening in a way they probably shouldn't.

"I— thanks... for apologising," he nodded awkwardly, finally shifting from his gaping face to a more awkward and stiff expression, his lips pressing down into a thin line that made the pink flesh disappear. (Name) snapped out of her stupor of admiration, standing back up from where she hadn't actually taken leant and clearing her throat once again.

She looked away nervously, turning her eyes to the yellowed dirt of the floor before flicking them back up to the boy who was staring right back at her, trying to ignore how much he seemed to be looking at her. "Right... so— uh, if you want to hang out... just, let me know," she coughed awkwardly, nodding and taking a few steps back to leave, but prolonging her stay at the very same time.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks, alright," he nodded, equally as nervous as the girl his age who very slowly took steps away, her eyes never connecting with his for more than needed. "Yep. I'll— I'll see you later," she bid her final goodbye, and made sure it was the last— because as soon as she said her farewells, she ran off, running past a corner to where she was sure he couldn't see.

Hiccup stood still in the forge, feeling his own face warm up strangely in the cold weather, but— like anyone would, he blamed it on the heat of the nearby burning forge. "Gobber needs to add more windows..." he grumbled, turning back to the now cooled down metal that lay on the anvil and deadpanning at the sight, his expression dropping once he realised the sword he'd been hammering needed to be reheated already.

"Great.." he huffed, grabbing the strangely shaped iron by the leather handle it was attached to before walking over to the forger, lifting the rather hefty metal up and shoving it into the hot pit of burning coals, the crackles and pops already beginning to surface again.

(Name) ran down the boarded staircases, the wood being hammered by her feet as she sped down— nearly stumbling on one of the steps before she made it down to the bottom.

Why on Thor's green grass was she so awkward?! She had argued with him just hours prior— and she was fine speaking to him then, but the moment she got a good look at him, all of her confidence in apologising suddenly disappeared, the scrawny boy managing to latch onto a string in her heart.

"This is stupid.." she murmured to herself, all alone in the part of the village the traversed through, the grass stiff from the cold and crunching beneath her boots. She walked by herself, strolling past houses and admiring the still lush grass while it was here— because soon it would be dried and dead, nothing more than a shrivelled grey blob beneath piles of snow.

"Hey, (Name)! Over here!" A voice called to her, and the girl perked up, turning around to spot Snotlout, the twins, Fishlegs and Astrid all up in one of the newly rebuilt watch towers.

(Name) hadn't even realised how far she'd travelled until she realised she was near the paddocks by the shorelines, sheep bleating catching her attention. "Come join us!" Ruffnut barked, waving the girl over, and who was she to refuse a friend beckoning her to join the group huddled around a fire together?

Normally, the teens wouldn't be allowed up on the watch towers, but it seems all the adults had gathered in the great hall for the regular meetings— despite this one being slightly off schedule for the regular times they were planned.

She trotter her way around the fences lining the sheep pens, making her way down a stone path that lead to the tall wooden watchtower, some few black burns still lingering on the wood that was reused as it wasn't too destroyed, unlike the rest of the tower.

She worked her way up the spiral stairs, hearing the voices of her friends grow louder and louder as she slowly grew closer to the top. The wood grained beneath her weight, and she almost thought it would fall for a moment, being freshly built with reused wood— but it held beneath her body weight.

Finally, she made it to the top, a singular large rounded chair seating the other five of the ground as they sat around the fire. "Where were you this whole time?" Snotlout inquired, the stocky boy sitting in the middle with a curious look in his eyes.

"Yeah— because... you said you were going to train with Astrid," Tuffnut pointed out, staring at her as he leant against his sister, who quickly pushed him off in retaliation. "Get off me— you smell of yak shit," she hissed, and Tuffnut whipped around to Ruffnut in offence.

"Hey— everyone loves yakdung. Don't you know that?"

"Who told you that?! — —— —" the twins argument was quickly tuned out by the rest of you all, and (Name) sat herself down next to Astrid, the blonde turning to look at her friend who'd taken a perch in the space next to her. "But seriously... where were you?" Astrid asked, and suddenly all the attention was on her as the twins paused their argument to await an answer themselves.

"And don't say training with me— because you weren't," Astrid quickly butted in before she could get an answer out, crossing her arms over her chest and leaving her axe to lay on her lap.

(Name) smiled awkwardly, sitting up straighter to exude an air of confidence before she actually answered. "I was hanging out with Hiccup," she admitted, and in that moment— everyone's faces dropped, jaws falling to the floor and eyes peeling open so wide their eyeballs might all collectively roll out onto the floor.

"You, were hanging out with Hiccup the Useless?" Snotlout reiterated, as if to confirm the words in his own mind and help his two small brain cells piece the seemingly impossible scenario together. The nickname for the boy wasn't the nicest, but most in the tribe used it behind the boys back, so it seemed normal by now— some even think it's his official titles.

"Why? Nobody ever hangs out with Hiccup," Fishlegs muttered, the boy kicking his legs softly from where they hung over the ledge of the chair, his own expression nervous and unsure. (Name) shook her head, her fingers once again idly picking at the twin on her arm warmers.

"I mean— I was just in the forest, and he was too... so we kind just talked," she shrugged, brushing off the concerns of her fellow peers, and sitting awake sly as a silence stewed between the group of multiple teens.

"You two were alone in the forest?" Tuffnut wheezed, his hand shoved into Ruffnut's face while his twins own hand was held around his neck tightly, attempting to suffocate the boy— who for some reason didn't seem to care about his lacking air supply.

"He was looking for dragons, and I was training— we just came across each other," she nodded, brushing off the connotations of the boys words and instead trying to keep the topic on an all time low.

"That loser was looking for dragons? You mean that Night Fury he shot down?" Snotlout snickered, quirking a mocking brow at the statement provided to him, and it became apparent to (Name) just how easily Hiccup was turned into someone to mock by the others.

"It would've been so much better if it ate him," Ruffnut grumbled, before turning back to Tuffnut and throwing the boy to the floor, the two engaging in a casual wrestling match that had Ruffnut slamming a wooden spoon she randomly had against his helmet repeatedly.

"So did he shoot it down?" Fishlegs leaned forward in his seat, eager to hear an answer of someone had finally seen the dragon that nobody had ever gotten a glimpse of. The Night Fury was nocturnal, and it only ever attacked at night— so it wasn't a surprise that everyone was curious what it looked like. There wasn't even a drawing in the book of dragons. Not one, while even dragons like the Whispering Death had multiple.

"I didn't see— we didn't really talk about it," she shrugged, watching as the boys demeanour deflated immediately, the blonde boy slumping back in his seat as Tuffnut's cries of pain became background ambience.

"He was probably embarrassed to find he didn't shoot anything down," Astrid shrugged, her words seeming to be an insult, but her tone weighed that she was just stating what she thought, her voice monotone and truthful.

"You're totally right Astrid— I mean, how could that runt ever hope to kill a dragon? That's just ridiculous. Have you seen his arms? They're so skinny, unlike my arms. Right Astrid? I mean look at these babies?" Snotlout flexed the muscles of his arms, which in truth... weren't all that defined, and his ranting to Astrid only got him a swift fist slamming against his face.

"Ow!" Snotlout cried, falling back out of his seat against the wood support pillar behind him, rubbing the side of his jaw that had already begun to turn red from just how hard Astrid had slammed her enclosed fist against his face.

"You need to learn to shut up," she spat, glaring down at the boy, and he nodded frantically, hoping to spare himself from another wrath of god— which Astrid could easily reign down on him. "Yup! Got it— no more talking!" He rambled, and Astrid didn't linger any longer than enough time to roll her eyes, walking back from the boy back over to (Name) who stared at the sight shocked.

"Let's go, I need an actual training partner," she offered (Name) her hand, and the girl gratefully took it, lifting herself up and following Astrid down the stairs, winding in a circle before making it back down to solid ground.

It was lucky Astrid had pulled (Name) down when she did, because as the two walked back into the village, the adults had finished their meeting, and one of them noticed the scrambling fit of teens atop the watch tower, running over to the structure.

"Oi! Get down from there you cursed rats!" He cried, waving his fist angrily at the kids above, and the teens whom had been caught red handed scrambled up, rushing their way down the watchtower and to the solid ground, where Astrid and (Name) had already disappeared from.

[sempsimps]

mychael and reader

i love mushroom oasis the vibe as a whole and the aesthetic i love it so much. and of course the mushroom boy mychael himself, and day 2 got my thinking about things, so i think i got the character right maybe and this is probably my shortest fic but the most wholesome a little context is that my version of the mc is that the reason they don't go outside much is hay fever and they miss doing stuff becuse their parents didn't let them out much so when they go out with mycheal in day two the get a new excitement to being outside.

tags:

taking a hay fever tablet/pill

the fluffiest fluff you could ever imagine

obviously this game is 16+ i believe so if your not that age tf you doing here

but this is so safe a baby could read it but don't becuse swears ig

the sun bleared onto my face my eyes slowly twitch and i stretched my limbs my hand knocking into skin and somthing fell on my face lightly and my eyes flutter open a tiny bit obscured by green and blue thing on my face.

"ah, sorry firefly i didn't mean to drop that on you"

"mh its okay i'm sorry for falling asleep and... on your lap it seems"

mycheal picked up the thing that landed on my face and i slowly sat up, yawning while rubbing my eyes to rid the tiredness. i looked towards mychael he was making a flower chain using the forget me not's, it looked pretty the blue was a lovely colour. he finished the last part of it and placed it on my head it fit quite nicely and was right above my ears resting.

"aw thank you mych"

i brightly smiled at him before i stood up and stretched with a satisfying click in my back and shoulder yawning briefly.

"by the way how long was i out for?"

mychael looked up at the sky and hummed, figuring out how much the sun moved.

"about an hour firefly"

"huh okay, best nap I've ever had"

i looked around i miss being outside, as i kid my parents never really let me out and i had the urge to climb a tree. 'ah that one looks easy enough' running over to the stump of the tree, i skipped onto the lowest bit that stuck out it was close to the ground using it to reach a big branch that was sturdy and i hoisted myself up, using the tree trunk as a foot hold doing so i got up to where my elbows were parallel to the branch but my foot slipped and chipped some bark of causing my balance to faulter and my arms wrapped around the branch to stop myself from falling off. 'shit' my feet dangled and i struggled to get them back on the tree trunk as i wasn't very strong.

"firefly what are you doing? ah! let me help you get down"

i felt hands on my waist and i stopped kicking my legs he was trying to pull me down but i used that to get up into the tree, i now sat on it crossed legged

"thank you!"

"what are you doing firefly?"

"tree"

"i can see that but why?"

mychael tilted his head confused, which soon turned to worry as i stood up on the branch and held my arms out to keep my balance, while mychael was panicking beneath me. i just laughed and sat on the branch near the tip. my legs locked over, it wobbled a little as i hung backwards over the edge. i was upside down so my shirt fell a little and the crown slipped off 'damn i was hoping that stayed on' i was now face to face with mychael my hand went out to boop him on the nose.

"hiya, boop!"

"firefly you need to get down, you could get hurt"

his voice clearly had worry in it but at that i started to swing my body and tried flipping forward onto my feat, but ended on my back. luckily the ground wasn't too far away and i landed in the flowers and grass a little winded but okay 'ow fuck that hurt'

"firefly! are you okay that was quite a harsh landing, i told you to be carful. you've winded yourself"

i laid there for a second and mychael was quick to my side and helped me sit up slowly with, a careful hand on my lower back and arm. i just softly giggled.

"well that was fun."

"that was dangerous not fun, hey! take it easy firefly"

"blah come on, ive missed the outdoors let me have some fun, oh by the way is there a river near by? this weather is boiling"

"okay then.... yeah lets go i need a drink, but a are you sure your okay i know that fall wasn't high but still"

i didnt have time to respond becuse i sneezed and my eyes were getting itchy from the grass and pollen 'ah damn hay fever' reaching over to where the flower crown landed and i put it on mychael's head although a little crooked.

"i made this for you, why are you giving it to me?"

"oh im allergic to pollen and my eyes are getting bad. anyway! where is this river you said there was, lets go"

"wait your allergic? isnt that a bad thing?"

"yeah ill talk about it on the way"

he nodded and mychael lead me to a path to the right of where we were, slowly walking to he river. i told him what hay fever was.

"so basically I'm allergic to grass and pollen, and many people have that and its called hay fever. it can causes various things like a runny nose, red or itchy or swollen eyes, coughing and sneezing, so its like a cold but for like half of the year."

"that sounds awful...."

"yeah but luckily i dont have it that bad compared to others, like i just sneeze and get itchy eyes which hopefully will be solved by some fresh water and one of my tablets"

i always kept a packet of tablets on my person just in case, and luckily i didnt forget to have them with me when i left the house to find my cat, and they were quite secure in my slim pocket.

"tablet? that's a type of medicine right?"

"yep, very useful in this day and age for anyone really"

continuing to walk with the living mushroom towards a water source to hopefully keep down the uncomfortable allergy and maybe have some fun in the river, like throwing stones or somthing 'oh that sounds fun ill do that' soon i could hear the water, and mychael moved a bush out of the way.

"okay firefly, we're here"

"nice. this should help a lot haha"

walking over to the water i sat down and popped open the packet putting one in my mouth, and then swiftly cupped my hands and drank the water to get it down me, i swallowed it to get rid of any thoughts, as it was hard for me to take pills. afterwards i stood up and walked along the rivers edge slowly, coming up to a big boulder to sit on. it was partly in the water it made a nice effect in the flowing liquid and i was feeling better by the second.

"that should do it, and maybe I'll climb another tree"

"absoulutly not"

mychael gave a small sigh from behind me, not opting to sit on the large rock but instead sat besides it, near the side of the river. and i laid back taking in the pretty blue sky with minimal clouds. taking a deep breath in 'I'm gonna need more of those during the summer.... he might not like it but i rather not feel dead'

"hey.... mychael i'm running out of the tablets ill need them if im going to live with you out here"

"you want to live with me?"

"yes absolutely! i wouldn't have to pay taxes, and well society sucks"

"that's great! but what are taxes?"

"don't worry about it, but i need those pills other wise i might be really sick forever, becuse of the pollen and like its April now and only going to get worse over the summer"

"we can go get them now?"

"if you help me get some stuff from my house, as well as getting those pills, and i know you might not want me to leave- wait for real?"

i stood up quickly and stood over in shock as i held out a hand for mychael which he accepted standing up as well.

"are you sure i was thinking you'd get possessive and worry i wouldn't come back in like an hour"

"what? that's dumb you need that medicine, so why wouldn't i let you get them?"

"oh right..... god why did i think that? that was dumb! anyway we should get my meds"

i laughed at my overthinking brain and mychael joined in. and started walking in a direction and i quickly followed happily 'living in the forest sounds like the best thing ever'.

okay so i dont know how to end this one so there we go im so happy i finally got this out of my head its been stuck there for ages and now its out also thanks you to my friend who gave me motivation to finish this for them as a token and introduction into tumbler.

[partially-controlled-chaos]

When We Were Young

Pairing: Halsin x f!Tav (Tavriel) Rating: G (General) Warnings: None, really. Little bit of smoochin' at the end. Just completely self-indulgent fluff for my own sanity. Summary: Deep in the autumn forest, Halsin and Tavriel share a sweet, if not awkward, moment to themselves. Pre-tattoo, pre-scar, love-lorn 90 year old druid initiate Halsin being completely inexperienced with anything romantic. Word Count: 3.7K A/N: A hurricane knocked out my power for a few days last weekend, so without access to my other WIPs or electronics, I hand wrote a complete self-indulgent fic for young Halsin and my original Tav. Once I started typing it out to post, I fluffed it up a little bit so it ended up being a good bit longer than my original drabble, but shorter than what I normally write. I recently revamped the backstory for my original Tav after seeing young Halsin art from @ozumii-fucking-wizard (thank you for blessing this site with your young Halsin art, it's amazing and for absolutely rotting my brain with young Halsin). I've never been a huge fan of "companions knowing Tav before the events of the game", but I played around with this idea and I've ended up loving it for Tavriel. I have stories previously posted for her that are a complete 180 from what I'm going with now, but I'm very please with the new lore I have for her. Might make a lore sheet or mini fic at some point, but I haven't completely decided. I do have a handful of more small ideas for Halsin and Tavriel so I'll probably sprinkle them in between my normal stuff. Also, hi hello @thoughts-of-bear , it's the fic I'd mentioned like a week ago that I finally posted

Read on AO3 here!

Masterlist

The sun hung low in the sky, casting the surrounding forest in a rich orange glow. Leaves of nearby oak trees turned shades of yellow and red, gently falling from their branches with each gust of wind, swirling in the air before softly landing on the ground. Acorns and pinecones littered the forest floor as autumn approached, sprinkled amongst small patches of mushrooms that grew in shaded spots. Bare feet darted against the ground in rapid succession, barely making a sound before lifting and leaping to the next patch of hard dirt or sun-kissed grass. Tavriel moved quickly through the trees, weaving through towering oaks and over fallen logs with an ethereal grace and swiftness as she sprinted away from the darkened thicket she called home and towards an open field.

She left the area practically untouched as she traversed the land of her home, simply stirring freshly fallen leaves with the wisps of air that that flowed from the ends of her linen robes. With each step she took, she could hear the heavy footsteps of those following her grow fainter, leaving the forest in a gradual silence. As a final obstacle, Tavriel crossed a small stream, gracefully leaping from one wet river stone to another, lifting her robes above her ankles to keep them dry. Cold water soaked her toes as she crossed, sending a chill through her legs until she made contact with land once more. 

Tavriel began to slow, her full blown sprint having tapered off to a slow trot before finally coming to a stop in the middle of a field of golden wheat grass. Her lungs burned from the exertion, chest heaving as she took in sucking breaths of the warm, late afternoon air. An earthy scent filled the area, picked up by the wind as it wove its way through the tall grass and to her nose. A pleasant smile graced her lips, tugging the corners of her mouth towards the sky as her eyelids softly closed and her head tilted back to face the sky. Warm wisps of wind blew through the long, fiery orange tresses that adorned her head, drying the light layer of sweat that had formed against her face from her run. Time had slowed as she took in the serenity of the moment, simply basking in the warmth the sun offered. 

The earth hummed beneath her feet, strong and loud enough to feel in her bones. The soft points of the grass licked at the ends of her fingers as her arms came down beside her, the gentle wind blowing causing the blades to tickle her fingertips. Songs of birds that thrived in the evenings began to sound off in the distance, signaling the end of another day. If she focused hard enough, Tavriel could swear she could hear the hushed voice of the forest calling to her, beckoning her back into the safety the trees and bushes offered. 

A large branch cracked in the distance and her eyes snapped open at the sound, breath hitching in her throat as she focused her hearing. Tavriel felt the muscles of her legs tighten and coil, ready to snap and spring her forward in a quick escape if needed. She silently cursed herself for becoming distracted; a dangerous game to play for someone who was undoubtedly being hunted. Instinct made her want to flee in an instant; to simply dart away and never be seen again. Tavriel wanted hide somewhere deep within the forest, curling in on herself and tucking her limbs close by and hide amongst the brush and foliage until the brightness of her hair was darkened from shadow and her scent was covered by moisture covered foliage. However, pure curiosity made her stay, waiting to see just what was coming from the forest.

Moments later, Halsin stepped from the tree line, taking a brief pause by the streams edge to regain his breath, hunching over slightly to rest his hands atop his knees. He was young and fit, having just celebrated his ninetieth birthday, but after such an extended amount of time swatting away tree limbs and stumbling over bushes, even he needed a break. His bright green eyes were locked on to Tavriel from across the river, who returned his gaze with a twinkle in her eyes and a smirk across her lips. He returned her smile, a cocky look on his face as he used the back of his hand to wipe beads of sweat from his upper lip.

It had been years, decades even, since they had played this game with each other. Running from one another to see who could be caught first before reversing roles, playing for hours at a time until they were both collapsed on the ground next to one another, too exhausted to move. They’d first started playing together as young children, having met by chance on a warm summers day. Being the secluded elf that she was, Tavriel was skittish and wary of strangers, even now, and each time he’d come across her in the woods, she’d dart off before he could make friends. It had taken a great deal of patience on Halsin’s part, and a few fresh honeyed buns he’d snatched white his mother’s back was turned, to finally persuade her to stay for a spell. Once they’d gotten comfortable with each other, Halsin and Tavriel had quickly become the best of friends. They would spend each day together, filling their days with laughter and fun from sunrise to sunset, always eager to see each other again the next morning. 

As they grew older, their usual playtime gradually decreased and instead they spent their spare time simply in each others company as friends and learning the ways of the natural world together. Halsin’s druidic studies often took him away from Tavriel’s realm of wood, which was the thickest and deepest portion of the local forest, and instead placing him with elder druids with a book in his hands. While he enjoyed learning from the other druids and discovering their wonders of nature, he preferred to experience them firsthand with his friend at his side.

Tavriel spent her days roaming the forests she called home, ensuring her safety and solitude all while strengthening her own skills. She was graced with a magical prowess that she had yet to fully understand. She had never been formally taught magic, but learned what she knew mostly from aged tomes that had supposedly been left behind from her unknown mother and pure curiosity. She knew how to heal small wounds and speak with animals like many magic casters, but could also control aspects of nature. With a snap of her fingers she could summon a flame or with a wave of her hand she could call forth a gust of wind. The flow of water could change to her will and, depending on her mood and the season, small flowers would bloom in the wake of her foot prints. She didn’t fully understand the magic she had been born with, but each time she discovered something new was exhilarating. Her talents were not without its dangers. Many of her powers stemmed from her emotions, which opened the door for wither and decay if she was frightened or angry. 

Tavriel was incredibly skilled with a bow, having learned the craft from her father before his passing, and used much of her spare time to fine tune her abilities. Overall she was a pacifist, so she spent most of her target practice on high hanging fruits and billowing leaves, but would occasionally hunt when she required sustenance other than what she could forage. Although she loved her solitude, she admittedly was fond of spending her time with Halsin and frequently missed him when he didn’t come striding into her realm of the woods each morning.

“It’s barely been a week since you’ve been in these woods and you’re already tired?” Tavriel teased from across the river, “The bear must be preparing for hibernation.”

“And the fox should know better than to taunt a bear on the hunt.” Halsin shouted back, straightening has back as he spoke.

Without another word, Halsin lunged forward, quickly crossing the river before sprinting as fast as he could towards the elf. Tavriel took off once again, her feet carrying her just as quickly as before, but not quite fast enough to outrun the young man on her heels. Tavriel held the advantage when deep in a thicket, her stature and almost other worldly sense of nature gave her an advantage over the aspiring young druid. She could tuck herself into the smallest of spaces and weave her way through dense foliage like a gentle breeze, letting her slip away and remain undetected if the needed was ever present. 

Halsin, on the other hand, was certainly at a disadvantage. He was a broad young man, much taller and broader than any of the other elves in his clan, making it much more difficult for him to maneuver his way through a forest when compared to Tavriel. He frequently became snagged on low hanging branches or thorny vines, forcing him to take the time to remove himself from natures sudden embrace before continuing. However, he held the advantage when it came to open land. His long legs allowing him to close long distances easily with little exertion. 

It didn’t take long for him to catch up, closing the distance between them in mere moments, and if he were to reach out, he could almost touch the flowing ends of her hair. Sensing the larger man on her heels, she gathered her strength and pushed on, creating a very small gap between herself and Halsin, although it wouldn’t be enough to insure her freedom. Tavriel made a split second decision to change her path and cut to the side, hoping the tactic would allow her to slip right past druid and back into the tree line not too far away. Unfortunately for Tavriel, it was a trick she’d used many times before to evade Halsin’s grasp and it was one he was anticipating. With her change in direction, she inadvertently stepped closer to the druid, allowing him to simply reach out and grab her.

Halsin’s hands suddenly gripped her sides, squeezing firmly enough to lift her partially into the air mid stride without dropping her, but not enough to bruise her delicate skin. A quick yelp of surprise slipped from Tavriel’s lips before erupting in a flurry of giggles. In an attempt to slow down, Halsin spun slightly, bringing Tavriel with him, but lost his footing in the process. He tumbled backwards, his back hitting the ground as a grunt left his chest. He still held the elf in his hands, who’s back had landed on his chest and she was suddenly staring up at an orange sky.

They paused momentarily where they lay, catching their breath and getting familiar with their sudden change of view. Tavriel saw this as an opportunity to escape by prying Halsin’s grasp from her waist and rolling her body off him and onto the dirt below. She found her footing beneath her as her hands dug into the dirt, ready to launch herself forward. Before she was able to start another mad sprint towards the tree line, she felt a set of large hands grab at her waist once more, pulling her back to the ground. With a triumphant smile and quick movements, Halsin pinned Tavriel into the dirt by her hips after pushing her onto her back. He rested the weight of his large frame atop her much smaller one, effectively trapping her for good.

“That’s cheating.” Tavriel managed to say between fits of laughter, smacking Halsin’s bicep with a playful hit.

“Had you not stopped,” Halsin panted as he came down to rest on his forearms, caging the young woman beneath him, “you might have slipped away, dearest fox.”

“Can you blame me?” She asked breathlessly, “It’s only natural to stop and take in something so beautiful.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Halsin said softly, bringing his fingers over to tuck a wayward piece of orange hair behind her ear. He brushed her freckled cheek with the back of his fingers, marveling at just how soft her skin was, considering she lived in nature and forewent any sense of shelter from a structure not built from a canopy of leaves. 

Tavriel had been one of his closest friends for years, eventually becoming a confidant and someone he felt safe with, but nothing had ever progressed from the companionship. Their relationship had never been anything more than platonic, but Halsin’s feelings had begun to shift as of late. He found himself stealing more glances than normal, a new and exciting flutter rippling across his chest each time he could look more than a few seconds and he could properly take in her features. Tavriel’s copper colored hair was as bright as the autumn sun and was often braided to keep her face clear of her locks while the rest cascaded down her back, resting neatly between her shoulder blades. Her eyes were as deep and green as the forest she called home, flecked with bits of gold that almost glowed if the sun caught her at the right angle. Her sun-kissed skin was littered with freckles from head to toe, the darkest ones sitting atop her shoulders and across the bridge of her nose.

Her scent had become intoxicating lately, making the would-be druid’s head spin if he stood too close. She smelled of the forest, as earthy and hardy as the deepest part of the woodlands where she dwelled. But there was also a hint of something he couldn’t quite describe, yet equally enchanting. She smelled of an otherworldly celestial magic, something ancient and almost forgotten that clung to her skin like moss on a damp rock. He’d never met another mortal soul capable of that kind of magic; the only other instance that came to mind was the power the land spirit Thaniel possessed. Growing up, Halsin had been told stories of a race of deep wood elves that lived in the thickest parts of the land, preferring a life of seclusion and isolation all while worshipping the goddess of the forest, Mielikki, instead of Silvanus. He had also heard how the last remaining deep forest elves had died off long ago, leaving the forest silent and forgotten, yet Halsin couldn’t help but wonder if Tavriel was one of the last remaining of that clan. She lived alone in a hidden spot deep in the brush, the location itself was a mystery even to him, and she’d had no family or clan to call her own for decades now.

His thumb slowly traced along her bottom lip, which was supple and rose tinted, as his forefinger slipped under her chin, slowly tilting her head to the side. Despite his age, Halsin had never kissed, aside from the kiss to the cheek he would get from his mother each morning, and the urge to feel Tavriel’s lips against his own was becoming overwhelming. His stomach twisted into knots as he considered leaning forward to close the gap between them, unsure of how his dearest friend would react. Despite their bond, Tavriel was prone to secrecy and mystery. Halsin often had times deciphering her feelings if she didn’t outright say what was on her mind, which made her difficult to read. He could feel her heart beating in her chest, the vibrations echoing against his own frame. His own heart fluttered as her tongue poked out lightly and wet her tinted lips, her eyes half-lidded in an unspoken expectation of what was to come.

Being the impatient and overeager young man that he was, Halsin dipped his head down, hoping to take Tavriel’s lips with his own in one sweeping, fairytale romantic gesture. It was something he’d played over and over in his mind for days now. Then when and where were something he couldn’t pin, but the how was certainly within his realm of control. He could see it in his mind’s eye, his lips pressing against her in a brief, yet meaningful kiss. Nothing too forward or abrupt, just the beginning notes of a young love. She then, of course, would kiss him back after he pulled away from her, pulling him down to her by the collar of his druid initiate outfit and wrap her arms around his neck. In turn, he would tangle his fingers in her soft hair, smiling against her lips as they lay together in their golden field of wheat, sharing quick, loving kisses until nightfall.

Instead, in his excitement, he rushed forward too quickly, bashing his front teeth against Tavriel’s before their lips could properly connect, filling the space with an audible clack. Halsin felt his chest seize with fear as Tavriel made an audible gasp and could taste a sudden rush of something warm, wet, and metallic against his lips. Her upper lip had gotten caught between their teeth, the delicate skin tearing and bleeding at the sudden force. She could taste the blood on her tongue, instinctively running the appendage over the wound, which was rather small.

Without hesitation, Halsin lifted himself from atop her frame, sitting back on his knees before gently taking the elf by the shoulders and helping her sit up. Before she could speak, Halsin’s hands were on her cheeks, tilting her head towards the remaining light of the fading sun as his thumbs came to her lips, pulling the skin taught so he could inspect the wound. The cut itself was difficult to see, given the smeared blood and saliva that now lingered on her skin. 

“Please, Tavriel,” Halsin said frantically, “f-forgive me I didn’t— I-I was over eager.” Halsin’s mind raced as he tried to remember the incantation for a healing spell, suddenly regretting skipping a few of his medicinal lessons. 

Tavriel brought her fingertips to her bleeding lip, wiping away the blood that had already stopped dripping. Her lip was a little tender, but nothing a short test couldn't fix. She couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the moment. Greater things were happening in the world, yet all that seemed to matter was landing a perfect first kiss. She wiped the remaining blood from her mouth with her sleeve, fully prepared to brush lips with him again. 

“Halsin,” she said softly, “it’s all right.” Halsin simply shook his head, refusing to believe his friend wasn’t angry with him, especially when he was furious with himself. Of all the times to blunder and show his inexperience, of course it had to be this moment. Although, he wasn’t the only one who was inexperienced. Given her life of solitude and a significant lack of other to socialize with, Tavriel had never experienced any sort of intimacy. When she first found herself conflicted with flutters of the stomach and heat in her cheeks, she first assumed she was ill or coming down with a sickness. It wasn’t until she connected these feelings to being in Halsin’s presence did she realize that it was no illness she was afflicted with, but the beginning stages of a young love.

Despite Tavriel’s protests, the young druid was practically beside himself with shame, still babbling away with apologizes and promises of making things right. With a slight roll of her eyes and a light chuckle, Tavriel took Halsin’s cheeks in her hands, pulling his gaze towards her long enough to keep him still. She pressed her lips to his gently, silencing his stammering and uncertainty with one fluid movement. Her eyes closed as she lingered, her body practically melting into Halsin’s chest, waiting for his embrace. She drug her hands down from the sides of his face and nestled them against the center of his chest, fingers latching into the leather bands of his outfit. 

Relief washed over Halsin as Tavriel’s soft, if not slightly swollen, lips caressed his own. He was convinced that she would run off at his blunder; just disappear into the forest and refuse to see him, perhaps forever. Of course, it was his own youthful embarrassment causing these thoughts, especially when considering that he wasn’t fully sure that Tavriel felt the same way. One of his hands caressed her cheek while the other found purchase along the braids resting behind her head, pulling her close to him as he deepened the kiss. 

When they finally pulled their lips from each other, they met the others gaze with a soft smile and a flush to their cheeks. Halsin bumped the tip of his nose against Tavriel’s, who returned the favor. She let out a light and airy giggle as she felt him nuzzle into her cheek moments later, pressing another light kiss to the light blush that had formed there. Their foreheads touched in a warm embrace, simply staying like that together until the sun was well below the horizon and the stars had begun to shine.  

Once they parted, Halsin leaned forward to take her lips with his again, only to find that she had pulled away. He tilted his head to the side just slightly, his brows having knitted together as she came to her feet once again. His hands lingered on her body for as long as possible, savoring the warmth she brought until she had completely stepped away from his grasp. Initially, he thought he had perhaps done something wrong; been too forward of lingered too long.

“If you want another, dear bear,” she said softly, “you’ll have to go on the hunt again.” Her usual playful smirk returned to her lightly bruised lips. Halsin’s eyes flashed a light shimmer of gold as he watched her take off once again, bouncing into the forest at a pace that was anything but a hurry. Tavriel turned to face Halsin once her hand ran across the rough bark of an oak, her heart fluttering as she disappeared into the moon lit depths of the forest, Halsin having already made it more than halfway to her. 

[kittyball23]

Diaper Duty (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: It’s obvious by the stinky smell coming from Baby Branch’s diaper that ONE of his brothers has to do the dirty work. Question is, who?

A/N: Taking place before TBT

__________________________________________

John Dory sighed, his head slumped against the windowsill of their pod and a pout on his lips. Outside, a harsh storm had just started to pour down, the sky clapping with thunder and raindrops beating harshly against the land. It was so not the way that he’d pictured this evening. It was supposed to be another great one up on the mushroom stage, belting out a song alongside his brothers, eating up the claps and cheers from the audience and soaking in the praise – not getting soaked in raindrops.

Behind him, he could hear the sounds of soaked feet squishing against the soft carpet and the sounds of water droplets patting against the floor as hair was wringed out. He, Spruce, Clay, and Floyd had made an effort to try and get out as quickly as they could before their concert got rained out, but it just hadn’t been fast enough. Heck, even Baby Branch, who was too young to perform and had only been there to watch, was soaked from head to toe. And all four of them were also less than pleased with the turnout of that evening.

John Dory groaned, finally prying himself away from the window and turning towards his brothers. “This stinks!” he exclaimed, kicking at the air angrily. There were only so many rehearsals they could do before they got bored and craved the real deal of an actual performance.

The other boys nodded, solemnly agreeing.

Floyd sighed. “Yeah…” But then, he scrunched his nose, a look of disgust crossing his face. “Ugh… but that’s not the only thing that stinks…”

It was then that Clay and Spruce, too, donned their magenta sibling’s same expression.

“Aww, ewww!” the yellow-haired Trolling moaned, pinching his nose to keep the putrid odor from infiltrating his nostrils. “Spruce, did you let one rip? Not cool, man!”

“Don’t blame this on me,” the purple-haired Trolling said, defending himself from the accusation, “it was you who probably did!”

“No way, dude,” Clay retorted. “I might be all for jokes n’ stuff, but I wouldn’t do something like that. That’s just wrong!”

John Dory, who’d made his way over as Clay and Spruce bickered, suddenly realized where the smell was coming from. “Bros, I think it’s Branch!”

The boys paused. “Branch?” they echoed.

JD picked the little baby up off the ground, who babbled at his brother with his one-toothed grin. It was when he was up close to his youngest brother that JD saw the lump that hung in his diaper, and noticed the awful scent that wafted into his nose was much stronger now.

“Ugh! Okay, I don’t think it’s Branch. I know it’s Branch.” He held the baby at an arms length away. “Okay, guys, whose turn is it to…”

But John Dory trailed off when he turned to look at the others. Within the split moment in which he’d affirmed the case of Branch’s dirty diaper and began to ask the question, Spruce, Clay, and Floyd had already picked up and dashed off from right under his nose, the only evidence of them ever having been there in the first place being a strand from each of their colorful hairs in the spots where they’d been sitting.

“Seriously, guys?!” John Dory complained. “Just cuz I’m the oldest doesn’t mean I gotta do all the dirty work!”

But, left without a choice, JD just sucked it up, using one of Grandma Rosiepuff’s clothespins to pinch his nose and grabbing a fresh diaper from the package they had.

“Remind me to add potty-training to your schedule, bro, a’ight?” he said rather nasally to Branch as he laid him down on the changing table and began to undo the diaper, cringing distastefully with every move.

Baby Branch just giggled in response.

[luciferism]

Legend of the Forbidden Phallocrux: One Hole to Bind Them All

Act I: The Fallen God's Sigil and Unwanted Blessings

Synopsis: Cursed/blessed after fishing up an ancient god's codex about the world, Aether was charged to fulfill a prophecy. He just wanted to find his way home but the universe wanted him railed.

Pairing/s: Genshin Men x Aether

Tags: multichapter crackfic, eventual smut, porn with plot, canon divergence, implied sexual content, slow burn, sexual puns, bad puns, bad jokes, parody, comedy, alternate universe, ooc, alternate au, teyvat is a lewd world, slow burn

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: Hey, I'm back. It's been over a year since I posted a fic. So here's my crackfic starring our golden boy, Aether 🫡 You can hop to Ao3 and read in advance.

⏭️ Chapter Two onwards

MASTERLIST ☆ AO3 PROFILE ☆ AO3 VERSION

The sun hung low and golden above the sapphire waters of Stormbearer Coast, its reflection shimmering like spilled oil over bare skin, twitching every time a plump, overstimulated fish breached the surface with a moan. Yes, a moan. The fauna of Testosterra, the New Teyvat, had long since stopped pretending they weren’t affected by the world’s ley lines’ cursed imbalance.

Even the breeze carried a thick, heady scent of brine mixed with blooming nymphroses and damp leather. Crickets chirped arousingly. Somewhere in the distance, a flock of moaning doves cooed suggestively. It was just another typical evening in the land where thirst reigned supreme.

Aether sat on the edge of a smooth, sweat-slick boulder, partially soaked from swimming and glistening like the cover of a forbidden romance scroll, and tragically unaware of the prophecy coiling like a perverted snake around his fate. His golden hair clung to the back of his neck in silky waves, while his toned abdomen flexed with every breath he took.

His legs were bare to the thighs, pants rolled up and boots tossed aside, toes dipped lazily in the warm water as he cast his fishing rod with divine nonchalance. Aether had traded his usual dark crop top for a loose white tunic that clung to his toned chest like it had read too much fanfiction about him. It fluttered open at the front, inviting the breeze to do its worst. He wasn’t trying to seduce the horizon—but somehow, he was.

He had hoped for a moment of peace. A brief interlude to think. To remember.

The memories of Lumine were fogged, as if glimpsed through a veil soaked in honeyed wine. He remembered her laugh, her warmth, the way they moved in tandem like twin stars. But since the attack—since that strange divine force struck and cast him adrift—he’d been alone. Or at least, alone enough to talk to himself and occasionally question whether that pine tree over there winked at him.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in this world, but this place definitely needed a break from whatever cursed soap opera it was living in.

Still, he fished. What else was there to do but find his next dinner?

Aether’s fishing line stretched lazily into the water, bobbing ever so gently with the movement of the waves lapping gently at the golden shore of Stormbearer Coast. It should have been peaceful. Almost was. But nothing had felt quite right since he'd awoken in this absurdly aroused world.

“Gotta eat,” he mumbled to himself. The rod in his hands was carved from a glossy, darkwood branch. It had chosen him somehow, from a glade pulsing with innuendo-shaped mushrooms and giggling fauna. Aether didn’t question it anymore. He had stopped questioning things after a tree tried to give him a “consensual back massage” last week.

Then the line tugged. Hard. With a lewd pop.

Aether blinked. “Oh?”

It tugged again, with a force that threatened to wrench the makeshift rod from his grip.

“Oh—”

His rod arched upward with such force that it yanked him halfway off the shore. With a grunt, he dug his heels in, pulling back with both hands. Muscles taut, veins standing out like serpents beneath skin, Aether wrestled with the catch. It wasn’t fighting like a fish—it was pulling like it had somewhere important to be and didn’t give a damn who was on the other end.

The line snapped with a flash of pink sparks, sending Aether’s petite frame on his back. Water splashed over him in slow motion, drenching him in cool droplets that clung like seductive pearls along his collarbone.

Coughing, Aether sat up and blinked at what had landed before him.

Not a fish.

A book.

An ancient, leather-bound tome, soaked but glowing with a faint carnal crimson, landed on the sand with a squelch. It pulsed, faintly, like a heartbeat. Its cover was engraved with swirling sigils, some of which looked suspiciously like kissing mouths, entwined limbs, or gyrating hips if viewed from the right angle.

Curious—and ever so slightly aroused, against his better judgment—Aether knelt beside it.

"Well... I did ask the universe for answers,” he muttered.

Aether did what any self-respecting, questionably cursed pretty boy would do—he opened it. The pages within glowed faintly. The script inside writhed—literally. The letters twisted and shuddered across the page, rearranging themselves with naughty giggles and lascivious sighs until he could somewhat read them.

“Huh.” Aether tilted his head, brushing his wet bangs aside. “Weird font.”

On the first page read, Testosterra Codex: Scandalous Whispers of the Moaniverse. By Carnalia—God of Chaos and Manlust—and the horniest lesser gods.

Dictated by his curiosity, his nemesis, Aether continued reading a few pages. Unthinking, he spoke them aloud:

"O' blessed be the supple vessel... awakened shall be the Seal of Slutlight—"

Aether blinked. “The what?”

But the book was already glowing hot, the sigils spinning, rearranging, licking at his fingers like ethereal tongues. A moan echoed—not from his mouth, but around him, in the wind, in the very fabric of the air.

Now, it was getting weirder, but still that didn’t deter him from reading for more. Maybe it was just gag material or an old erotic novel, he thought, flipping to another page.

“Oh blessed be the shaft divine,

Do stretch me wide, and make me thine.

Let mine hole left no rod behind,

In flesh and soul we now entwine!”

The air thickened with heat and sandalwood-sweat-scented mana. The grass withered. The water hissed, giving leeway for the suddenly blowing cold breeze to caress his wet skin.

Aether screamed—not in pain, but in something unsettlingly adjacent to pleasure. His body lifted off the ground, limbs arched, glowing pink and gold with symbols he really didn't want to know the origin of. Then—

THROB.

A sigil etched itself in light above his tailbone. Glowing magenta with a hint of gold, swirling with chaotic energy, and vibrating like a naughty toy forgotten under a bed.

Aether landed hard on his knees, panting, sweat-soaked, glowing slightly. “What. The fuck. Was that.”

The Carnalia’s Sigil.

A voice echoed in his head—sultry, domineering, and vaguely drunk.

“O Chosen Bottom of the Prophecy, thy journey beginneth. Thou hast delivered the Lustrous Litany and awakened the Lust Covenant. Gather thou the shards of the Forbidden Phallocrux, else be consumed in combustion most unspeakable.”

Aether blinked, his fishing rod forgotten beside him. “The... what now?”

“Hie thee hence across the Seven Lands of Lewd Repute, and quest for most comely and gallant bachelors—yet cursed—whose hearts, whose souls, yea, whose lustful flames are marred by shards most vile: the Forbidden Phallocrux. 'Tis thy lot, by fate's own thread, to purge these fragments, till they be made whole once more. Seek them out, and with each man entwine thy spirit deep. For thou and they together must seal the Cracks of Desire—those gaping wounds in nature’s weave, whence pour enchantments steep’d in carnal frenzy.”

“Are you playing a prank on me?!” Aether hissed as he stood, his gaze sweeping around the coast.

“Fret not, O Chosen Bottom, for thou art endowed with blessings manifold—gifts most vital to surmount trials and fulfill the Prophecy. Mine own Sigil hath already bestowed upon thee the Aura of Allure. Take thou the Codex, and let its wisdom steer thee true upon thy quest.”

“You can’t—”

“Fare thee well for now, O Chosen Bottom of the Prophecy. May fortune smile upon thee, and may thy quest find sweet zenith and triumph!”

The sky thundered with a clap of erotic applause. Somewhere in the distance, a unicorn neighed in approval.

Aether groaned, dragging his hands down his face. His body tingled unnaturally. And then—oh no—he felt it again.

The sigil. It looked like an ornate rune, intricate and ancient… and was absolutely throbbing just above his buttcrack. Like a beacon. Like a lusty lighthouse for cursed dick-havers.

He slammed the book shut with a thick thud. The runes faded along with its glow. Then the air stilled.

“…Oh come on,” Aether whimpered, feeling a heat pulse through his core. His pupils shimmered with subtle, cursed sparkles.

And worst of all, every male frog within a ten-foot radius immediately turned to stare at him with longing croaks.

He swatted one away with a horrified yelp.

“I just want to eat.”

[bakageta]

Holiday fic 500 #3

@gallus-rising asked for chicken related prompts and I went with our Pokerole PCs encountering a chicken. Hopefully I've done @argothiathedreamer's, @ferbulo's, and @kaoruki's characters justice!

The bushes were the same as any other clump of shrubbery that lined the trails and rivers which linked the towns of Salmar’s largest land mass. Their leaves were glossy and green, photogenic red berries hung from their branches, and the sounds of wild pokemon were easily heard. Except…

“What even are you?” Mamie Boone asked, utterly baffled by the creature before their party.

“You don’t have to bother it, it’s not in the way.” Tailor Thorne stood a few feet behind Mamie and the dubious thing in front of them. She had been setting up camp before Mamie had left to figure out the creature.

It was white feathered and bipedal. So, some kind of bird type, for sure. The legs were scaly and it probably had–definitely had wings. A flying type bird Pokemon! Mamie had gotten too close and it had flapped and pecked at her. Now it was making angry noises.

“You’re making it mad.”

“But I wanna know what it is! I’ve never seen anything like it and it’s not telling me anything!”

“You haven’t asked it anything,” Lit observed from the other side of the path, eyebrow quirked. He had been examining some mushrooms.

“Oh.” 

“Or introduced yourself!” Sokio shouted from where she and her Pokemon were training.

“How inconsiderate!” Scallion, Sokio’s Galarian Farfetch’d, gasped.

“Like you would have!” Mamie called back.

“Yeah, that’s fair, actually…”

“Anyway!” Mamie turned back to the creature. “I’m Mamie Boone. Who are you?”

The creature bobbed and turned its head, taking a careful assessment of Mamie with both eyes. It reminded her of a small headed, mostly white Torchic. Maybe it was like an ice Torchic or something?

Tailor sighed.

“What kind of Pokemon are you?” Mamie stepped closer to the creature. It made a low, angry noise. “I'm sorry, I didn't catch that?”

More indignant noises.

“A bawk-bawk? Is that right?” Another step closer.

Backed into a metaphorical corner, the bawk-bawk made a screeching noise and lunged.

Mamie jumped back. “Yeeesh! Sorry for being curious!”

“It’s what you get for bugging it,” Tailor pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Maybe it wants to train?” Sokio wondered, attention caught by the scuffle.

“A capital idea!” Scallion shouted, always eager to test her strength. She leapt to face the bawk-bawk and flourished her beloved leek. “Have at!”

Bawk-bawk cautiously approached Scallion. It seemed less intimidated by its fellow feathered Pokemon than it was by Mamie’s human disguise. Circling the farfetch’d, its attention hung on Scallion’s leek.

“Assessing your opponent, a good tactic– Hey!”

The bawk-bawk had started pecking at Scallion’s vegetable weapon.

“You fiend!” She spun to face Bawk-bawk, taking her leek out of the range of its beak.

Bawk-bawk paid no mind and circled to get at the delicious leek. Scallion beat a strategic retreat around the clearing and Bawk-bawk gave chase. 

“Rude!” Sokio took off after Bawk-bawk as it chased Scallion around the clearing’s circumference a second time.

“They’re entertaining,” Lit noted. He had gathered some mushrooms and had started sorting them.

“Mm-hm,” Mamie agreed, settling next to Lit. They grabbed a mushroom from one of Lit’s piles only to have it smacked out of their hand before they had a chance to eat it like popcorn.

“Yep.” Tailor sighed and settled down to watch Sokio chasing Bawk-bawk chasing Scallion.

[creativesnek]

Death will not do us part

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting an ethereal glow over the ancient tombstones that dotted the royal graveyard. The air was heavy with a sense of solemnity, as if even nature itself recognized the sacredness of this hallowed ground. Silence enveloped the area, broken only by sporadic sounds that seemed to emerge from the shadows.

Occasionally, a mischievous Boo cackle would echo through the stillness, its eerie laughter sending shivers down one's spine. These playful spirits, known for their spectral pranks and tricks, found solace in this realm of eternal rest. Their ethereal voices danced on the wind, adding an otherworldly charm to the otherwise somber atmosphere.

Amidst the Boo's haunting laughter, an owl hoot resonated through the night. The wise creature perched on a branch nearby, its golden eyes gleaming with ancient knowledge.

The Boo looked at the glorious sarcophagi, staring longingly at the jewels encrusted on the surfaces. They were captivated by the shimmering gemstones, their translucent forms yearning for the touch of earthly riches. Though they could not physically interact with the sarcophagi, their spectral fingers traced the intricate patterns carved into the stone, as if trying to absorb the opulence through ethereal means.

As the Boo continued to marvel at the treasures before them, a soft whisper filled their ears. They floated toward a particular sarcophagus. Judging by the new design and intact luster, this person passed recently. The Boo looked at the placard floating on top of it, curious to know whose grave this was.

The whisper turned into a groan.

The heavy lid of the sarcophagus shifted as a large, skeletal claw moved it aside. A glowing red eye stared at the Boo. The spirit yelped and covered their eyes. The skeletal figure emerging from the sarcophagus. Its bones creaked and cracked with each movement, as if it hadn't been disturbed in centuries. The red eye continued to glow ominously, piercing through the darkness of the graveyard.

With a raspy voice that sent shivers down the Boo's ethereal spine, the skeletal being spoke. “Finally,” it said. “The month of fright is here.”

The constant eye-contact was too much for the shy spirit, so they vanished. The skeletal being cackled as other sarcophagi opened. A dozen other skeletons rose from the graves, sporting spiked shells and bracelets. The red-eyed one looked at his reflection on the lid and fixed the hair on his skull into a bun. 

“There he goes to see his husband.”

“Every fright month…”

“I still think he should have married that Mushroom Princess.”

The other Dry Koopas stared at the one who said that disapprovingly, causing them to slink back into the sarcophagus. A Dry Bone with a metallic gold shell crossed her arm and touched her cheek, “Look at him. Ever since he met and married that little human, he’s been so happy, even after death,” she said.

“Their rule over the Darklands was glorious! They brought peace and honor to our kingdom,” said a male Dry Koopa. 

“Bowser may have had a rough life at first, but everything worked out in the end.”

Bowser removed some moss on his ribs and adjusted his spiky accessories. He listened to their words, a faint smile playing on his skeletal face. He had come a long way from his days of loneliness and bitterness. Meeting Luigi had changed everything for him - he had shown him love, compassion, and the power of redemption. Satisfied with his appearance, the Koopa climbed out of his grave. “I’m heading out!”

“Travel safely, Bowser! And say hello to Luigi for me!”

“Bye, Mom!”

Other skeletal relatives bid their goodbyes. As he made his way across the graveyard, his bony tail wagged madly with excitement, causing a faint rattling sound that echoed through the night. Orbs of light appeared around the haunted space, casting an eerie glow. More members of the Royal Koopa Family arose from their graves and began to sing and dance; after all, they had a full thirty days of sentience to enjoy!

Bowser crossed the red gates protecting the graveyard and sprinted to the Boo Woods, ready to find his love.

.

.

.

The Dry Koopa looked at the dilapidated mansion before him. Its cracked walls and broken windows were a testament to the passage of time and neglect. As he stood there, a gust of wind blew through the decrepit structure, causing the remaining shutters to creak in protest. Windows and pillars were covered in vines and moss. Lightning struck overhead, lighting the eerie floors. Some of the windows had eerie yellow lights. 

Bowser rattled with excitement as he knocked on the cracked door. The door eerily swung open on its own. He stepped forward into the darkness and looked around; the door slammed shut behind him. Eerie whispers echoed around him. Lights slowly turned on and furniture started to float. The Dry Koopa’s tail wagged, “Luigi, are you here?” he asked. 

A chill went down his spine as something cold touched his shoulder and a voice replied, “Hello~”

The Dry Koopa turned his head around 180 degrees and smiled at the ghost behind him. His body was somewhat translucent with a greenish hue. The ghostly figure floated in front of the Dry Koopa, its ethereal form flickering in and out of existence. His once brown hair was now white and long; his overalls were replaced with a light green poet shirt, black pants, and boots. 

Bowser grabbed the ghost and pulled him into a hug, nuzzling his skull against his face. Luigi squealed with joy. As Bowser embraced the ghostly figure, memories flooded back into his mind. The first date they went on, how Luigi became an ambassador and helped with the peace proceedings. How terrified they both were about announcing their relationship publicly and the pure joy on their wedding day. Luigi peppered ghostly kisses all over his face. “I missed you, amore,” he said. 

The Koopa smiled. “I came here as soon as I woke up!” he said. “My mom says hi.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. Hopefully I can come visit the graveyard soon,”

Luigi linked arms with him, floating beside Bowser as he walked further into the haunted mansion. The two chatted, reminiscing on the good times when they were alive. As they strolled through the dimly lit corridors, memories of their past adventures flooded their minds. Luigi couldn't help but chuckle as he recalled the time Bowser accidentally got stuck in a warp pipe during one of their battles.

"Remember when we had to team up to defeat that giant Boo?" Luigi asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Bowser laughed heartily, his deep voice echoing through the eerie halls. "How could I forget? You were so scared, you jumped into my arms!"

They continued down the hallway, passing by portraits of long-deceased residents and cobweb-covered furniture. The mansion's ghostly inhabitants watched them curiously, some whispering among themselves. Seeing the undead couple was the highlight of the year, that and because other loved ones, no matter what dead form they took, could freely visit.

Luigi leaned his head on Bowser’s shoulder, “I hear Junior is doing well.”

Bowser chuckled. “Of course he is! He’s our son,” he said. 

As they walked further into the mansion, Luigi couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia. The memories of their past adventures flooded his mind, reminding him of all the times they had fought against each other as enemies, only to eventually become allies and then husbands.

“All the Koopalings are faring well too,” he said. 

Bowser nodded. “I’m glad there was no fighting over the throne after we passed,” he replied. “Hell, they even divided the kingdom amongst themselves.”

Luigi guided him down a hallway and into a massive ballroom; spirits floated all around, talking and dancing. Several pieces of furniture glided around the room. As Bowser and Luigi entered the grand ballroom, the ethereal atmosphere engulfed them. The spirits, adorned in elegant attire from various eras, gracefully twirled and conversed with one another. The room itself seemed alive, with chandeliers illuminating the space and casting a soft glow on the floating furniture.

The Boo glided around Bowser before standing before him. Luigi extended his hand and grinned, “Can I have this dance?”

“Always, my love.”

            With a slight nod and a gentle smile, Bowser took Luigi's hand in his massive clawed one. Their touch sent shivers down their spines, but it was a comforting sensation that neither of them could deny. The Boo, sensing the intensity of the moment, dimmed the lights and conjured a soft melody that filled the room.

            As the music began to play, Luigi and Bowser moved gracefully across the floor. Their steps were perfectly synchronized, each movement flowing effortlessly between them. Two souls that not even death could separate.

[themanirealityshifter]

🧚‍♂️✨🌿🍂🍄Magical Forest DR Script🍄🍂🌿✨🧚‍♂️

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{ • }}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• [ First Name: Cosmo ] • • [ Middle Name: None ] • • [ Last Name: None ] • • [ Species: Fairy ] • • [ Age: 120 ] •

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• [ Pronouns: He/It/Xe/They ] • • [ Gender Identity: Genderfluid Genderflux Enby TransGuy ] • • [ Romantic Orientation: Aromantic ] • • [ Sexual Orientation: Myrsexual (Neurosexual, Nebulasexual, and Merosexual) ] • • [ Other Orientation(s): Ambiamorous; Homoalterous; Omniqueerplatonic; Panexteramo; Pansensual; Panaesthetic ] •

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• [ Parent(s): None ] • • [ Sibling(s): None ] • • [ Other Family Member(s): None ] • • [ Partner(s): Darcy ] • • [ Best Friend(s): None ] • • [ Friend(s): Everyone ] •

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• [ Description: Human-sized fairy; 7’0”; Dark brown horns that curve downwards; Huge wings that look like luna moth wings; Pale fair skin; Clear skin; Oval face; Lean, masculine/muscular body; Brown eyes; Round spectacles; Pointed ears; Top and bottom surgery scars ] • • [ Style: Shirts and trousers made of silks spun by Fire Spiders and leaves woven by beavers; Silver, casual armor pieces made by Centaurs; Necklaces, earrings, and rings made of stars and the finest jewels, gifted to me by the Centaurs and Dwarves; A necklace of a half moon ] • • [ Personality: Same as in my CR ] • • [ Abilities (natural and learned): Elemental Manipulation; Potion-making; Antidote-making ] •

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• [ Personal Items: Several Potions for wounds, stomachaches, headaches, and other illnesses; A small painting of Darcy ] • • [ Extra: Hate does not exist; War does not exist; Humans do not exist; Everything is 100% peaceful and harmonious; There are no enemies; Every magical being is immortal; I am immortal; No one dies; There is nothing to give anybody, myself included, any type of emotional, verbal, physical, or psychological trauma; Darcy and I both are expert climbers and know how to make medicinal potions; Darcy and I both speak every language and can communicate with animals; There is no such thing as transphobia, homophobia, acephobia, arophobia, queerphobia, sexism, racism, etc.; Darcy and I both cannot and do not grow bored of being in the forest, although we can become bored; Darcy and I both know how to weave baskets, bracelets, and necklace cords; Darcy and mine’s wings glow in the dark; Darcy and I can’t get bug bites, poison ivy, poison oak, etc.; It never gets too hot, but every plant, flower, tree, etc. that needs hot weather in CR can survive and thrive without that heat in this DR; Nothing dies or goes away and can thrive and strive when winter comes; All wildlife are friendly to Darcy and I ] •

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• [ Our Place (Mine’s and Darcy’s) ] •

Darcy and I live in a gigantic tree. It’s not by the ground, but a little more than half way up. There is one bed, a side table, a couch, a “kitchen”, and an art area. The furniture is made from sturdy branches and vines, and moss and leaves as cushioning. Nothing rots. Darcy hung up tons of strings of dried glowing mushrooms, so there’s always light in there. There’s also tons of glass jars of immortal fireflies, too, so that adds light. Plus, we also have a few giant luminous mushrooms growing in there, either from the walls or in pots. We have several plants in pots all over, most of them sitting on the sturdy mushroom caps growing from the walls. It’s covered in moss and ferns, and we have to trim it often. The art area is a small corner that is splattered with paint and pollen. The paint is made from ground leaves, petals, and roots. Darcy mostly makes the paint since it’s his expertise. We have lots of shelves that we nailed into the walls using some handmade nails made by the Dwarves. We keep dried foods, canned foods (in jars), and our knickknacks on them, as well as the natural luminous mushrooms that grow out of the walls everywhere. 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• [ Magical Beings That Live In The Forest ] •

• [ Wood Nymphs: ancient, beautiful and youthful tree women, who keep the forest flourishing and who like to dance with the Fauns ] •

• [ Fauns: half human, half goat people, who enjoy playing musical instruments such as flutes and harps, and dancing around bonfires at night, and collecting honey and berries ] •

• [ Centaurs: half human, half horse beings who are incredibly intelligent and are master astronomers ] •

• [ Dwarves: short fat people, who always have beards, and are very good with gems and mining ] •

• [ Fairies: small to human-sized horned and winged beings who are known to be mischievous and are expert climbers and potion masters ] •

• [ Giants: gigantic people who live in caves or under particularly large trees and by very large pools of water, they are incredibly good at fishing and are very friendly ] •

• [ Orphinki (an original creature made by me!!!): small beautiful dragon-like creatures who are usually wise and live in hammocks in most trees ] •

• [ Dragons: giant lizard-like creatures with wings and venomous spit, they are gorgeous and shiny and sweet and nice and are known to be lovable and gentle to all ] •

• [ Water Nymphs: ancient, beautiful elegant water women who love to dance with the water fairies and spirits ] •

• [ The Four Spirits: water, fire, earth, and wind are the four spirits, and they’re friendly little curious things that are everywhere and nowhere at the same time, sometimes they transform into a specific form, but most times they are simply there in the water or in the fire or in the ground or in the wind ] •

• [ Griffins: half bird, half lion beings that love swooping around under the trees and herding flocks of birds ] •

• [ Mermaids: half human, half fish people who live in the many pools in the forest, they sing beautifully and love to braid water nymphs’ hair ] •

• [ Wisps: glowing beings that mimic the forms of others, they’re friendly and curious little creatures that are as ancient as the Earth and know far more many things than you may realize, usually they take the form of stags or rabbits, but when they are interacting with someone specifically, they’ll usually mimic them ] •

• [ Pixies: tiny, mischievous fairy-like beings, who are all purple, indigo, and dark blue, they are known to play pranks and gang up with dwarves and fauns for a game of fun ] •

• [ Elves: tall, elegant and beautiful human-like immortal people, with long curving horns coming from their heads and pointed ears, they usually wear either silks and jewels, or leaves, moss, and acorn jewelry ] •

• [ Flying Horses: large, beautiful horses with huge feather wings, come in all colors, and are known to be very friendly, they love flying in between trees and searching for a nice clearing to lay and roll in, Elves usually are seen riding or befriending them ] •

• [ + More ] •

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• [ Some Wildlife ] •

White-tail deer

Reindeer

Butterflies

Dragon-flies

Beetles 

Tigers

Lions

Bears

Honey Bees

Bumble-bees 

Rabbits

Hedgehogs

Birds 

Trout

Bass

Moths

Foxes 

Snakes

Worms

Isopods

Horses

Raccoons

Monkeys

Leopards

Owls

Mice

Rats

Frogs

Snails

Insects of all kinds 

Tortoises

Turtles 

+ tons more

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• [ General Description of The Forest ] •

• [ An endless forest, full of magical beings, underground caves, clear water pools, huge to tiny trees, and animals of all kinds, all living in peace together, totally harmonious. ] •

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• [ Me in this DR (Picrew Form) ] •

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[suzannelittlesue]

Lunathrow...

The Whispering Realm

Hidden beyond the veil of waking thought lies Lunathrow, a tender, enchanted realm shaped by quiet dreams and the hush of starlight. It is a world woven not with logic, but with longing—with moss-soft whispers and dew-laced wonder.

Lunathrow is alive.

It breathes through the rustle of leaves in moonlit glades, hums through the glow of winged creatures weaving between mushroom lanterns. Here, fairies live softly, tucked in the folds of petal-lined homes and sun-warmed stones. Magic isn’t a tool—it’s a rhythm. A language. A promise in the soil.

The seasons do not turn on their own in Lunathrow.

They are changed—gently, intentionally—by the magic of the fairies who call this place home.

When the crisp winds of autumn are needed, they’re summoned with songs and fluttering scarves hung in trees. When spring is ready to bloom, fairies gather near crystal brooks to whisper warmth into the earth. Snow doesn’t fall here—it arrives, placed like lace over the branches, soft and sacred. The sun returns only when called by golden-winged messengers.

Time moves differently here. Not slower, but gentler. Moments are kept in jars like fireflies, and memories bloom from the roots of the trees.

The world is made of places that echo with personality:

Whisperwood, where trees lean close as if to share a secret, and lantern bugs guide those who wander but don’t wish to be lost.

Thimbleglow, dotted with wildflowers the size of teacups, and soft pink fog that never fully lifts.

Morrowlight, where the future flickers in pools of enchanted water, and every stone holds a story.

No one rules Lunathrow. It guides itself, gently shaped by the magic of those who live within—little beings with big feelings, soft rituals, and a shared need for safety, joy, and meaning.

Lunathrow doesn’t ask you to be strong.

It asks you to be true.

🌲 Whisperwood

Soft, secretive, and full of unseen life. A forest that feels like it’s always holding its breath.

🌙 Thimbleglow

Named after the tiny glowing thimble-shaped mushrooms scattered all over the forest floor.

✨ Morrowlight

A place where twilight seems to stretch forever, like the fairies live in a time just before dreams.

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

Febuwhump Day 9 -- Bees

Tw: allergic reaction, struggle to breath, medical whump (trach)

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Wild repeated the phrase over and over again to anyone who would listen. To Warrior, who initially yelled at him for his idiotic actions when he dragged Wind back into camp, panicking and stumbling, unable to take a full breath on his own. To Sky, who was sent over by Time to interview him to determine just what had happened, once Wind was stabilized by Warrior and Hyrule’s combined, frantic efforts. To Twilight now, who was trying to get him to uncross his arms so he could rub salve into his numerous welts.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Wild dragged the brim of his hood down over his face, hiding himself from Twilight’s gaze. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for him to get hurt!” he pleaded. “We were just restocking food! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! It was an accident! I didn’t know that he’d do that!”

Nearby, Wind wheezed and wheezed where he sat by the extinguished campfire, fat tears spilling over his puffy lips. His throat and tongue had swollen to the point he couldn’t draw a single breath, nevermind drink a potion—the tube, fashioned from a hollowed-out river reed, that Warrior had driven with brutal efficiency into the base of his neck whistled with each labored inhale and exhale. The rest of the heroes hovered around him, holding his hands and petting his hair as he curled over himself, seemingly unaware of his surroundings as he struggled to breathe through a literal straw.

“You couldn’t've known that he was allergic,” Twilight said softly. “He didn’t know himself. It ain't neither of your fault.”

Wind had been delighted to be invited to accompany Wild on a scouting trip to replenish their dwindling food supplies. They’d spent the morning and the better part of the afternoon scavenging for mushrooms and fruits and herbs in the forests around where the Chain had set up camp for the day, with Wild pointing out each and informing Wind of the healing properties or their use in different meals that he’d like to try. And then they stumbled upon the beehive.

The hive itself hung off of a sturdy branch next to a fast-flowing river, positioned behind the abandoned cabin out by Hateno Fort. Golden honey dripped from its exposed comb, shining deliciously in the light of the afternoon sun; bees buzzed around the clearing, drifting lazily from flower to flower and poking curiously at Wind and Wild’s faces and hands as they came to stand underneath it. Wind tracked the insects with marked interest, though he stayed still at Wild’s warning of their stingers.

“What’s all that yellow stuff hanging from their… house?”

“Honey?” Wild had answered from where he crouched in the tall grass, readying himself a torch and a length of clean fabric with which to catch the honeycomb itself without getting his fingers stung. “You’ve had honey before, haven’t you?”

“Nope.” Wind shook his head, sending the bee that had landed on the tip of his ear into a stuttering flight around him before it found another perch in his curly hair. “Never even seen a bee before this adventure.”

“Well, you’re going to try some today,” Wild said. He lit his torch and held it aloft. “Go back to camp, and I’ll meet you there. They may seem docile now, but they’ll swarm as soon as I pull their hive down, and I don’t want you getting attacked.”

“What? No, I wanna see!” Wind protested in a whine. “We’ve just been foraging all day, this sounds actually cool! What are you gonna do, knock 'em down and grab the honey, you called it?”

Wild found that Wind’s puppy eyes were impossible to resist when they were turned upon him. Besides, if Wind thought it was cool … “Fine, you can watch,” Wild grumbled, secretly pleased with the audience. “Just get back, as far back as you can. And when I yell for you to run, you run, you hear? They won’t follow far, but I don’t want you getting stung. Their stings don't really hurt, but they are annoying.”

Wind retreated to the edge of the clearing, bouncing with excitement. Once he was safely out of range of any immediate retaliatory stings, Wild swung at the beehive with his torch and knocked it to the ground. There it cracked open, spilling out golden honey and a dark, writhing blanket of agitated insects crawling over the surface of the exposed honeycomb. In one swift motion, Wild dove for the broken hive, wrapped it up in his swath of fabric and secured it with a twist before its inhabitants could take flight, and hightailed it out of there as the sound of angry buzzing filled his ears, shrieking at Wind to “RUN!”

They both shot off, with Wild sprinting towards the abandoned cabin and Wind fleeing back in the direction of camp. But Wild had only made it a few paces before he was drawn up short by Wind’s surprised yelp, followed by the soft thud of him hitting the ground. “Wild! Help!”

Wild spun around, his breath catching when he realized that Wind had tripped over some unseen root on the ground and fallen. Wind scrambled to get up, swatting at the first of the bees that buzzed around his face, but tripped over his own feet in his haste and landed back on the forest floor. 

Wild abandoned his bounty and turned on his heel, thrusting his torch forwards as he doubled back, towards the building swarm of angry bees. 

“I’m coming, Wind! Get up! Run!”  

Bees stung Wild’s exposed face and arms as he dove through the swarm to get to Wind, but he didn’t pay them any mind. Once there, Wild yanked him up, throwing his cloak over him as he dragged him into a sprint away from the growing swarm. They were nearly back to camp before the sound of angry buzzing faded behind them, and once it was gone, they both doubled over themselves, panting and laughing delightedly to themselves over their little escapade.

“I told you to run!” Wild gasped out. “What was that?”

“I’m sorry, I… I fell!” Wind got out between wheezing laughs.  “It’s not like… not like I meant to!” 

“Did any of them get you?” Wild had asked, scrunching his face up in displeasure as he surveyed the little puckered marks rising all up and down his arms. More made themselves known in little bright sparks of pain all over his body—above his left eyebrow, at the nape of his neck, down the back of his shirt. “I had to drop the hive, we’ll need to go back for it.”

“Yeah… yeah just… just one, I think.” Wind poked at a mark on his wrist, then hissed through his teeth, shaking out his hand. “You said that they don’t really hurt! This… this hurts!”  

“Oh please, it’s just a little bee sting. I got stung all over coming back for your sorry self.” Wild straightened with a roll of his eyes. He pulled his cloak away from Wind, slinging it back over his own shoulders. “Let me see.”

And Wild blanched to see the white, swollen lump on Wind’s wrist, already larger in circumference than two or three rupees lined up end to end. Its edge grew rapidly before Wild’s eyes.

“What?” Wind asked, peering up into Wild’s eyes with worry. He pulled his wrist away, clutching it to his chest. “Is that… that not normal?”

Wild schooled his shocked features back into something more neutral. “Probably. You’re fine.” He took Wind’s hand in his own, pulling him after him, towards camp. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Wind stumbled after him. “But I thought… I thought that we were… were going back for… for the honey?” Despite having stopped running minutes ago, his breath only grew more labored. He tried to jerk his arm away, but Wild only redoubled his grip. Wild couldn’t help but notice that he’d turned clammy. “Wild… Wild stop for a second, I… I’m not feeling so good all of the sudden…” He raised a hand to his throat. “I can’t—I can’t—”

“C’mon,” Wild said firmly. “We’re getting you to the others. I’ll get it later.”

Wild was nearly carrying him by the time they made it back to the other heroes. They spilled into camp, and Wind was whisked away from Wild at the first glance. Even now Wild stared after him, guilt eating him alive. He should have told Wind to leave, because there had always been a risk that he got stung. He should have known, when Wind said he’d never even seen a bee before, that he could have some allergy just lurking underneath the skin, waiting to be discovered with a singular sting. He should have anticipated that he would have been more unsteady on the uneven ground, coming from a background that consisted both of a flat island and the rocking sea. He shouldn’t have hesitated when he saw the swelling on his hand, wasting precious seconds that could have saved his skin, if they’d gotten a potion down his closing throat fast enough. He should have, should have, should have, should have….

“Wild, listen to me.” Twilight’s hand jostled his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. He’ll be alright, Hyrule said that his swelling is already going down.”

Wild shook his head, dragging his hood down lower over his head. What if he didn’t get better? What if the swelling didn’t go down, and the straw he was breathing through failed, and he suffocated because of Wild? What if—

“Wild!” Warrior snapped from across the clearing. His glare was deadly to meet—he, out of all of the heroes, had been the most upset over Wind’s current state. Still ringing in Wild’s ears was his shout from hours ago of what kind of idiots go around and intentionally knock down beehives! “Wind wants to say something to you, apparently.”

Wild’s eyes slid over to Wind guiltily. He truly looked awful—his face flushed, lips and even his eyelids bulging, that cursed straw in his neck weeping blood at the edges. Nevertheless, there was a spark of mischief in his eyes as he swatted Warrior away and pushed himself up face Wild. ‘Do I still get to try the honey?’ Wind signed, his movements shaky. ‘Did you go back and get it?’

Wild laughed a little, incredulous. ‘Not yet. I will. If you still want it.’

‘I do.’ Wind gave a thumbs up and a grin, a hurt looking thing with his swollen lips, and closed his eyes as he leaned back against Warrior’s shoulder. ‘Worth it, then.’ 

Warrior frowned in disapproval, as did every other hero in sight of his hands. Wild collapsed into a fit of giggles, then, swiping at his teary eyes. Yeah. He’d be all right.

Read this on ao3! HCH Febuwhump Day 9 -- Bees

Or check out the whole series here! HotCheetoHatred's Febuwhump 2024

[bleghbleghladydeath]

THE TREE AU HAHAHAH

It is eating my mind from the inside out.

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The Masked Man silently held a dead girl in his arms, about eight. He walked down a hall, overgrown by unnaturally large plants. He knelt under a fallen vine and stared at a huge, weird looking tree. He set the girl down. Then the tree moved. It turned to face him, the wood creaking and cracking. Huge horn like branches came from its head. Mushrooms, moss and vined engulfed its torso and arms. It's face it blank, except for the bark. The Masked Man stood there and watched as a large, bark hand reached out and dragged the girl closer before picking her up. It seemed to stare at the girl before pushing some vines on its stomach to the side and putting her into a large hole in its stomach. The Masked Man waited to see if The Tree will accept the girl and let him leave silently. Then a deafening ringing filled the room, and The Tree took the girl and threw her against a wall. The Masked Man didn't move an inch. The ringing got louder until The Tree's car window sized face got inches from The Masked Man's masked one. (XD that sentence idk how to write). The Masked Man turned and left the room, careful not to walk to fast, as not to make The Tree angry. Once The Masked Man was three halls away, he started running. He dashed down halls and stairs until he slammed into a chest. He stumbled back and looked at them. A flannel shirt. He looked higher up and Jeff glared at him. The Masked Man knows Jeff isn't angry, he just looks angry, if Jeff was angry, he would be on his ass already. Jeff smiled and The Masked Man froze. He waved awkwardly and Jeff chuckled. "Howdy big boy." Jeff chuckled.

The Masked Man fought the urge to smile even though Jeff can't see his face.

"Did the stick take that girl?" Jeff asked.

The Masked Man shook his head, the noose swaying. Jeff sighed. "Alrigh', le's go an' ge' another kid. Dam' stick." Jeff grumbled.

He walked off and The Masked Man shivered. He followed behind and soon caught up. Jeff went to his 'room' and grabbed his cowboy hat and his riding boots. He slipped the leather beauties on, and The Masked Man stared as he slicked back his hair and set the hat on, he fixed his jeans and shirt before standing up, smiling. The Masked Man smiled widely under his mask and Jeff walked over, his brown eyes piercing into The Masked Man's hidden ones. He took his face before kicking him in the leg and laughing when he held it, staring at Jeff angrily. Jeff walked off and The Masked Man let out a strangled sigh. He followed, messing with his noose. Jeff looked back before smiling. He grabbed the noose and jerked The Masked Man closer up. "Pick it up fat ass." Jeff growled.

The Masked Man stared, jerking his noose back. He silently thought about the day he hung himself. He was almost out when he felt the tree he hung himself move, he then realized his mistake. He let out another strangled sigh while Jeff pulled a cigar out his pocket from a can. He then lit it, and The Masked Man stared, he has faints memories of Tim, smoking a pack a day, he tilted his head, wondering why Tim never comes out anymore, he can't even hear him, sometimes a faint jumble of words but then there is that horrible ringing and no more Tim. He kinda misses him. He sped up a bit. Jeff has long ass legs. Jeff offered the cigar to The Masked Man, smiling softly. The Masked Man reached out and Jeff jerked it out his reach, laughing. The Masked Man growled, kicking Jeff in the back of the leg before stomping off. Jeff growled and stomped over, grabbing The Masked Man by his swaying noose and jerked him around violently. He slammed the cigar into his hand and dug down. The Masked Man jerked away but Jeff jerked him back over and slammed him into a wall, chest first. Jeff then got behind him, pinned his hands up and he flicked his lighter on before burning the word 'BITCH' in his arm. The Masked Man tried to jerk away but Jeff suddenly bit him in the shoulder making it hurt even more for him to fight. Jeff then let him go. "Next time I'm branding you like my dogs." Jeff growled.

The Masked Man shivered, those dogs scare him, Jeff has done horrifying things with them, he has eight of them and will hunt victims in the woods with them. They're not rabid, just hungry for human flesh, that's all Jeff's ever fed them, so it makes sense, but he brands every single one with a large smile, right on their stomach. Jeff then stomped off and The Masked Man frowned. Jeff went for his dog room and started to yell in there. The Masked Man winced when he heard a dog yelp and a thud. Suddenly the shaking and growling dogs got dragged out on chain leashes. One tried to bite Jeff so he tazed them in the side.

"We're going." Jeff growled.

The Masked Man stared and went to comfort one of the younger dogs, but he got snapped at. Jeff then pulled something out his satchel. He dropped it on the ground. Every week they get six kids, cut one of their fingers off and then dump them in the woods after wrapping their finger up. The Tree likes it when they have been in nature for a bit. He had chucked one of the kids fingers down. The dogs started to attack the finger, snapping at each other and barking. "Hunt!" Jeff growled.

Boom. They were running Jeff laughed manically and The Masked Man stared. He went after them and soon they were out in the woods, the dogs sniffing and growling. Drool made small puddles in spots where they sniffed. The Masked Man stared and then the dogs were all in an uproar, running faster somehow. Jeff cackled and let them go. There was a blood curdling, piercing scream as the dogs barked and snapped, attacking what looked to be a little boy. Jeff took a gun off his hip and shot in the air. The dogs got off the sobbing boy. Jeff got all the chains and gave them to The Masked Man. Jeff dropped down next to the boy, smiling.

"Hey, don't cry, it's okay." Jeff said, calmly, softly.

The Masked Man stared, there is something beautiful about how well Jeff can lie, how he can make anyone do as he says. The boy hugged Jeff. Jeff ran his fingers through the boys hair. He then set the gun next to the boys head. "Shh, don't cry." Jeff said.

He pushed the boy off but still held his tight. He tipped his hat and shot him, a big smile on his face. He picked the boy up and dropped a small chicken bone in front of the dogs. "There's your award you dumb mutts." Jeff growled.

The dogs fought violently for the small, fragile bone. The Masked Man stared, and Jeff started to walk back for the abandoned hospital. Soon the dogs where back in their room and Jeff went to offer the boy to The Tree. The Masked Man waited on the floor, messing with his noose. Soon Jeff came back. "Okay, he's accepted, come on, I'm tired as fuck." Jeff growled.

He jerked The Masked Man up by his noose. Jeff then dragged him to his room. He plopped onto his bed and The Masked Man sat down at the edge. Jeff took his hat and boots off before laying down. The Masked Man then started to massage him. He silently dug the hard of his palm into Jeff's muscular arms, staring. Jeff can't sleep without a massage, so The Masked Man gives it to him. Jeff growled, untensing. The Masked Man lifted up his mask halfway to show his pale face and blue lips. He kissed Jeff on the back of his neck and Jeff growled happily. The Masked Man started to carefully take Jeff's shirt off. He ever so softly unbuttoned each button before pulling it off and chucking it to the side. He dug his hands deep into Jeff's back. He then went to Jeff's jeans since he can't sleep in those. He grumbled softly as The Masked Man carefully covered his bottom half.

"Not like you haven't seen me in less...." Jeff growled sleepily.

The Masked Man ignored this sentence before going back to helping Jeff fall asleep. He soon went completely silent and The Masked Man stopped. He then sat at the bottom of Jeff's bed, legs crossed. Jeff mumbled something in his sleep peacefully. The Masked Man often wonders how Jeff sleeps so well. After everythings he's done it stuns and confuses him. He wasn't even in control, and he has nightmares about Tim killing Alex, that gagging and choking, it was horrible. The Masked Man shivered before going back to staring. Jeff will always be a disturbing mystery.