#i swear she just sniffs the carpet and then magically pulls something out of it

[a-sassy-bench]

90% of having a puppy is just walking around saying "don't eat that"

.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Upset - Part 1

(Whump fic disguised as a headcanon)

Jaskier was typically outgoing, charming, and had an amazing sense of humor. He was good-natured and wasn't one to get upset easily. Except when it came to Valdo Marx. That a**hole was a completely different story!

But Jaskier did get angry, or sad, or got his feelings hurt, like any normal person. And while he did get upset, he was also quick to forgive his friends. He may not forgive himself as quickly or easily, but would always forgive the people closest to his heart.

He had even forgiven Geralt for abandoning him on the mountain, but Geralt wasn't so sure Jaskier was going to forgive him for this...

Geralt and Jaskier had just pulled into the driveway when Jaskier had been called away for band business. He'd jumped out of Van Roach, broken the world's speed record for showering, thrown on clean clothes, and headed over to their little studio.

Geralt had been left to unpack everything from their recent roadtrip: two weeks on the Path, hunting monsters in Temeria. He was tired, but he had to get the van cleaned out and restocked for the next trip. He gave it a good vacuuming, took out all the empty food containers and packaging, and tossed all the empty cans and bottles.

He shampooed the carpet and seat where Jaskier had spilled his drink after Geralt hit the brakes quite suddenly, on purpose, after Jaskier kept forgetting to put his seatbelt on, and wouldn't stop putting his feet up on the dashboard. Jaskier had folded in half with a surprised shriek, and Geralt had to stop to pull his a** out of the footwell.

Geralt restocked the medical supply cabinet, then bundled all the bedding up and shoved it into the washing machine. Was it overloaded? Most likely. Was Yen going to be mad? Not if she didn't find out. Geralt left the machine to do its job and f**ked off to go do something else until it was time to dry everything.

After half an hour of sitting in front of the tv, he heard the washing machine stop, so he peeled himself off the couch and went to shove everything in the dryer. He was pulling the blankets and sheets out when he saw it...

Geralt experienced a mental pause while his brain devoted most of its function into verifying that what his eyes were seeing was really true.

Then came the wave of panic as he carefully pulled the blanket out of the washer. Ohsh*tohsh*t! It had gotten mixed in with the other bedding, and he hadn't noticed! Sh*t! Oh gods! Were the tattered spot worse, or had they always looked like that? Ohhhhhhhhhh.....

Yennefer was out in her herb garden when she heard Geralt swear loudly and emphatically, "FFFFAAAAAAAHHHHKKKKKHHHH!!!!". She ran inside immediately, and heard him swear again in the laundry room.

She flung door open, voice raised in righteous fury, "You better not have overloaded the washing manchine again, Geralt!", and froze on the spot when she saw Geralt standing there, holding a blanket.

Yennefer gasped, experiencing the same panic as Geralt when she recognized the familiar, but now much cleaner looking ratty blanket. That wasn't just any blanket. It was Jaskier's blankie. And Geralt had just washed it! Their eyes locked, and a single thought passed between them,

oH sH*T!

They both knew the significance of what had just happened. They were f**ked. There was no way to fix this. Geralt's brain made a valiant effort though, and coughed up an absurd, but simple solution.

"Yen, quick, magic it back to the way it was!"

"What?!"

"Just...I don't know, put the...the 'yuck' back on it!"

"You want me to just magic decades of drool, dirt, sweat, and gods know what else back on to it? What the f**k, Geralt?"

"Ok, ok, then at least put the stink back on it so it will smell like it did before I accidentally washed it!"

"I can't, you nimrod! I don't know what it smells like!"

Geralt gave the blanket an experimental sniff. That one corner still smelled funky to him. Maybe it was going to be okay.

Yennefer burst his bubble. "He's not a Witcher! He doesn't have your sense of smell!" She took a sniff herself. All she could smell was lavender and linen. "And I don't either!"

"D*mn, it's a little...uh...ragged too!" Yennefer groaned, looking at the bits where some of the old, slapped on patches had frayed and pulled away from the other bits of fabric. There were stringy bits, and small areas where the old batting was showing through.

Geralt felt his heart sink with dread. The blankie was mostly in one piece, just a little 'battle worn', but it was still obviously damaged and would need repair.

Oh, f**k, we're...f**ked!"

They were very much f**ked because that was when Jaskier walked in. He knew something was wrong. He could sense dread and urgency through Yennefer's mental link as soon as he walked into the house.

Jaskier opened the laundry room door and froze. He saw Geralt holding his blankie. Saw the open door of the washing machine. Saw the ragged look of his blankie. Smelled laundry soap. And put one and one together.

"You...you...washed it..." he said, his voice small and flat. Geralt and Yennefer both flinched. Jaskier slowly reached out and took the damp blanket from Geralt's hands. He started trembling then, and Geralt could smell the distress coming off him. It was making him sick to his stomach.

Jaskier ran his hand over one frayed patch where the stitching had given way, his thougths racing as he tried to both process what had happened, and simultaneously come up with a way to fix it.

"Jask, I-!" Geralt began to try to explain, reaching over to lay a comforting hand on Jaskier's shoulder.

Jaskier jerked away from him, "No!" he barked, his voice rough and tight. He was shaking now.

"No..." he whimpered, his voice sounding small and broken. Yennefer gasped when, out of pure distress, he started banging his fist on his head and repeating "No" over and over.

Geralt grabbed his wrist, "Hey! Stop it!"

Jaskier twisted and jerked, then tensed up as he felt a familiar pain flare in his chest. "F**k you!" he cried, suddenly angry. "F**k you, Geralt! F**k you!"

"Geralt, his chest-!" Yennefer said quickly, feeling the pain through their link.

Geralt immediately released his grip.

Jaskier stumbled as Geralt let go. He took a step back and bumped up against the counter, sliding down to sit on the floor. He felt light-headed.

"Breathe, Jaskier..." Yennefer said, her voice full of concern. She crouched beside him and lightly slapped at his cheek until he blinked and took a breath.

Yennefer tried to press her hand to his chest, to feel if those ribs had separated from his sternum again, but he turned away from her slightly.

"Let me see, Nightengale. Please?" She asked quietly.

Jaskier shook his head and hugged his damp blanket to his chest, sniffling and trying to get a hold of himself. "Get out." he said quietly after a minute.

"Jaskier," Yennefer said gently, pulling on his hand when he started fisting his hair. "Let's get your blankie in the dryer, okay?"

He didn't look at her, just stared at the floor numbly, holding his wet blanket, eyes glistening with tears.

"Jask?" Geralt rumbled softly.

"Just f**k off, both of you. Please."

Geralt looked at Yennefer, who nodded. They quietly left the room...

[wxldchxld]

my mi5/SHIELD cross over verse with @stcriestcld offers and endless number of stupid and funny situations never cease to delight me. I mean, SHIELD wants her there, yes, but they also kinda don’t have the ability to get rid of her. They’ve screwed themselves and now they’re stuck with this fluffy orange hell beast and the gaggle of animal companions following her at all times. So here are some of my favorite dumb scenarios that I entertain myself with when I think about the verse:

Beck going through security every morning. At this point, they know what time Ros is coming in (and by proxy what time Beck is going in) and at this point they’ve just got their own room that they pull Beck into. Partially because it takes so goddamn long, and partially because there have been multiple occasions where they have reached into her “bag of horrors” (as it has been dubbed by security personnel) and pulled out something that caused wide spread panic. These items include: a box of undead cursed weasels, a literal flying carpet that proceeded to break four windows before being contained again, a jar labeled “bottomless spiders” that spilled and made them have to evacuate the building, a very angry sprite that claims to be the keeper of the bag’s library (which Beck claims does not exist), and a seemingly harmless lump of charcoal the size of a man’s head which, upon coming into contact with human skin, burst into flames and began screaming obscenities at the top of its non-existent lungs. Each time Beck’s response has been “Huh... I did not know that was in there” and “Ohhhh so THAT is where I put the spiders!” 

Beck just existing in animal forms on the Grid. The first several months people think they’re going absolutely mad, as they swear up and down they saw a horse at then end of the hall or heard a bear yelling through the vents. Even once the jig is up and people know, they’re still never sure, because Beck has, on more than one occasion, magically managed to sneak live animals onto the Grid, fitting them with a little vest or necklace that contains her badge.

Beck solving dire situations with the stupidest solutions imaginable. Like yeah she could turn into a bear and maul the bad guys, but why would she do that when she can just use her thought projection to make gangnam style blast on loop in their minds at such a persistent volume they can’t hear anything else and can barely think clearly so they’re so disorientated Vivian can punch them into unconsciousness. Why use super fancy satellites and equipment to find a bomb when she can just politely ask every rat in the city to sniff it out for her. Why send in a strike team to contain a threat like a rampaging troll when Beck says she’s about sixty percent certain she can talk him into a deal everyone can agree with. It’s a constant mess of chaos and new forms of paperwork that have to be written up because she’s an absolute menace but goddamn is she useful.

SHIELD agents being absolutely terrified of Beck’s familiar, Angrboda. Boda is a massive feline with a horrible attitude that delights in bullying anyone she can, and Beck refuses to go anywhere without her. There are several trained agents that go the other way when they see Angrboda strolling down the halls.

Also if I remember correctly Zen put her at a stupidly high security clearance that should literally never be allowed because Beck cannot be trusted with that kind of personal responsibility and has zero respect for like, procedures and doing things by the book. I’m ps she never even passed any kind of like, test or check, because she certainly would have never consented to combat training and should never, ever be given a gun. Instead of using it she’s just gonna stick it in her bag and god knows what will get ahold of it in that endless pit of chaos and magical artifacts.

There are only a couple of things that keep Beck even relatively in line. 

A: someone might tell her girlfriend.

B: She actually likes Ruth and Vivian

C: She doesn’t actually want SHIELD to know the full scope of her abilities and resources in the case they ever turn on her.

But it’s mostly the gf thing... bc she’ll get in trouble.

[quentinsquill]

Fic: “Minor Mendings and Mistletoe” (The Magicians)

Minor Mendings and Mistletoe 

Fandom: The Magicians 

Rating: PG 

Word Count: 3,057

Warnings: None 

Summary: It’s Christmas at the Physical Kids cottage, and Quentin uncovers a piece of Eliot’s past that his friend forever thought lost. Can he make a connection with his crush and discover the truth about his magical abilities at the same time? 

Author’s Notes: This is based on a drawing by @highkingfen that completely inspired me! I thank her for allowing me to write a fic based on her wonderful art. Check that out here, along with a bunch of other original and amazing designs at her Redbubble shop, FillorianQueen! Comments and kudos are magic and as always, enjoy! 

Minor Mendings and Mistletoe 

By Lexalicious70 (aka QuentinsQuill) 

“Do we really have to do this?” 

Quentin turned from opening several large cardboard boxes to see Eliot standing at the Physical Kids cottage bar, pouring himself a glass of wine and making a show of looking spectacularly bored. 

“Come on, El! It’s Christmas!” 

“Well technically, it’s February 15th, at least out in the real world,” Eliot replied. Margo opened one of the boxes and began to unwind several strings of multicolored lights as she scoffed in reply. 

“Since when do you worry about life outside of Brakebills?” She asked, and Eliot frowned. 

“Since you want to turn our cottage into some kind of cheesy Rankin Bass cartoon?” 

“What’s so bad about Christmas?” Quentin asked as he unpacked a large artificial tree. “I like Rankin Bass animation.” 

“Oh, you sweet summer child,” Eliot sighed, then narrowed his eyes at Quentin as he opened his mouth to reply. “And don’t you dare compare me to the Grinch!” 

“If the green fursuit fits,” Quentin muttered as he slapped dust from the front of his sweater. Eliot downed his wine, refilled his glass, and stepped out from behind the bar. 

“By all means, proceed,” he said as he headed for the front door. “Just don’t ask me to participate!” 

“Wow,” Quentin sighed as Eliot slammed the door behind him. “Who took a dump in his eggnog?” He asked Margo, who plugged in a string of lights and nodded as they came to life. 

“Don’t mind El,” she said. “He’s not the biggest fan of Christmas.” 

“How come?” Quentin pulled the legs of the tree stand open. While he’d only been living in the cottage for five months, he’d spent enough time with Margo and Eliot to feel like he’d gotten to know them as friends. Granted, he was a bit scared of one and was crushing hard on the other, but they felt like friends just the same. They had even tried to help him find his magical discipline, but to no avail. 

Margo paused to pour herself a glass of wine and then filled one for Quentin as well. 

“Without going into detail, El didn’t have the most ideal of childhoods. When you think of Christmas, what comes to mind?” 

“I don’t know, uhm . . . snow? Going crosstown to check out the lights in Manhattan? Skating at Rockefeller Center with my dad when I was little?” 

“Sounds like stuff right out of a Christmas movie,” Margo nodded. “But El’s parents were less about Christmas fun and more about the religious aspect of it. Lots of praying, lots of church services, and not a lot of decor.” 

“That sucks,” Quentin nodded as he constructed the tree and began to fan out the branches. “But he’s an adult now . . . he can celebrate any way he wants!” 

“I guess he doesn’t want to. Maybe he’s not okay with the memories it brings up, Q.” 

Quentin paused and glanced over at Margo. 

“How bad can church be?” He asked. “My dad is a lapsed Protestant so we didn’t really go once I turned like, ten, but . . .” He trailed off at Margo’s pointed expression. “Oh. You mean his parents . . .?” 

“It’s not for me to give you details, Quentin,” Margo replied. “But let’s just say that some of the first magic lessons Eliot truly applied himself to was how to repress unpleasant memories.” 

Discomfort twitched in Quentin’s stomach and he fell silent to focus on shaping the tree. Most of the cottage occupants had drifted away from the decorating efforts, leaving Margo and Quentin to unpack all the boxes. The ornaments had been collected from previous students who had left them behind and they now filled a cardboard box that used to contain a build-it-yourself desk. 

“Damn!” Margo said suddenly from one corner. “Q, do me a favor?” 

“What’s up?” Quentin asked as he finished assembling the tree. 

“There’s an extension cord thing--one with all the plugs--up in El’s closet, up on the shelf above where he hangs his shirts. Grab it for me, would you?” 

“Go in Eliot’s closet? Uhm--” 

“Yes, go in his closet! Don’t worry about it, I’m giving you permission.” 

Quentin glanced up the stairs. He knew Eliot had gone off somewhere to mope or flirt or whatever he did to avoid Christmas, but closets were personal things and the thought of stepping into that space, full of Eliot’s clothes, his scent, made Quentin’s heart vibrate against his rib cage like a frightened parakeet. 

“Quentin! I’m standing on my fucking head over here!” Margo said from the corner. 

“All right, okay! I’m going!” Quentin turned and headed up the stairs to Eliot’s room. There were only six people occupying the cottage this semester, so Eliot had only closed his door instead of locking it. Quentin turned the knob, guilt pricking his conscience. 

Quit being so jumpy, he told himself. Margo told you to come up here, it’s not a big deal, so just grab the cord and don’t be so stupid!

Stepping into Eliot’s room was, for Quentin, like entering a space full of possibility. He took in the bed with its plum-colored duvet, the nightstand mirror edged with photos of Eliot and Margo, and, to Quentin’s great surprise, one of himself. He stepped closer to examine the image and saw himself asleep on the cottage couch, a Fillory and Further book spread open across his chest. He wore his Brakebill’s shirt, tie, and blazer, but the tie was undone and his hair hung in his eyes. 

When the hell did he take this? Quentin asked himself. And why? 

The possibilities were too overwhelming to contemplate at that moment so Quentin turned to the closet instead. The doors were tightly closed and Quentin swung them open. They folded aside and the smell of Eliot’s cologne, a mix of ocean water and sandalwood, wafted out, along with the scent of fresh clothing. Quentin glanced around like a guilty child sneaking cookies out of the kitchen before he leaned in to sniff at one of Eliot’s cardigans. It was well-worn, almost on the verge of shabby, but the fabric was softer than a baby’s blanket with repeated washings and Quentin allowed it to touch his cheek a moment before he pulled back and glanced up at the shelf above his head. He murmured a few lines of Arabic and let the magic fill him before he rose into the air, light streaming from his fingertips. He pointed them at the shelf and he saw the extension cord right away, coiled up in one corner. There were also a few dusty-looking hat boxes, a stack of magazines with nude men on the cover, and-- 

“QUENTIN!” Margo roared from the bottom of the stairs, and Quentin gasped as he lost his focus on the spell and the light sputtered and died. He pitched backward and gave a yelp of dismay as he grabbed the nearest surface--the closet shelf. The thing came free of its braces and Quentin shielded his face as he tumbled to the carpet and the contents of the shelf and the slat itself rained down on him. 

“Shit!” He gasped as the slat slammed into his right knee and two of the hat boxes spilled open as they hit the floor. The erotic magazines fluttered down around him like wounded bats and Quentin blushed at the array of nudity scattered there. 

“What the fuck are you doing up here?” Margo demanded from the doorway. “What was that--oh, Jesus!” She snapped as saw Quentin laying among the ruins of Eliot’s closet shelf. “Haven’t you ever heard of a stepladder?” 

“It’s your fault!” Quentin shot back as he got to his feet. “I was looking for that cord when you screamed at me! It broke my concentration!” 

Margo rolled her eyes. 

“I swear, you are the most fragile forest-type creature I have ever met!” 

“I didn’t say it scared me, I said you broke my concentration!” Quentin began to gather the spilled contents of the hat boxes which, to his surprise, did not contain a single hat. Instead, Quentin found himself picking up jewelry, unopened packs of cigarettes, dozens of matchbooks, and a few items that defied description (at least in Quentin’s realm of experience) but looked personal enough to make him blush again. Margo picked up the shelf slat and replaced it, shoving the ends back into the casters. Quentin stacked the magazines and handed them over, and she gave him an amused look before tucking them back into their proper place. He glanced around to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and spied a smaller, square box that had tumbled almost all the way under the bed. Quentin bent over to pick it up and something inside gave a chiming rattle of broken glass. Margo glanced up. 

“What’s that?” She asked, wiping a lock of hair from her eyes, and Quentin bit his lower lip. 

“Whatever it is, I think I broke it,” he said. “Shit.” He popped the top open and peered inside to find a white-and-blue Christmas ornament, broken into at least four pieces. The outside was decorated with painted glass and overlaid with glitter. “It’s a Christmas ornament,” Quentin groaned. “Oh shit, Margo . . .” 

“Maybe we can fix it, Q, let’s not panic!” 

“What do you think he has it for? You told me he doesn’t even like Christmas!” 

“Who knows. El can be secretive, even with me.” 

“I think I have some clear glue in my--” Quentin censored himself, knowing Margo would give him that mocking smile of hers if she knew he owned a crafting kit, “--in my room. I’ll take in there, see if I can fix it before Eliot gets back.” 

“All right, I’ll see what I can do about the tree,” Margo nodded as she left the room. Quentin carried the box into his room and shut the door before he opened his desk and took out a hinged wooden box with a hand-painted dragon on the cover. Inside was a crafting kit with a set of acrylic paints, scissors, rulers, a pencil set, and other crafting items. Quentin pulled a tube of clear glue from the box and went to inspect the ornament again, sliding the pieces from the box with care. It was broken into nearly even sections, almost like one of those chocolate oranges Quentin sometimes got his dad for the holidays, and he fit the edges together carefully. His stomach sank a moment later when he realized several small pieces would be missing, even if he did glue them. He wiped a hand over his mouth. 

“Shit! Shit, shit . . . what am I gonna do?” He asked himself, imagining the look of hurt and anger on Eliot’s face when he saw what was obviously an heirloom, broken beyond repair because of his first-year clumsiness. Shame and panic burned in his throat and then his eyes flew open as a sensation began to fill his chest, like he was taking a breath big enough to inflate a bounce house. He’d felt this way his first day at Brakebills, when he’d made the cards fly around the room, but this was different--this was a warm glow that wore a halo of power, and he raised his hands without directing them. He watched, amazed, as his fingers and wrists worked and the broken sections of the ornament rose into the air, spun around each other, and them knitted themselves into place. The metal fastening that fit into the top of the ornament seemed to give a joyous leap before fitting itself in with a small popping noise. Quentin turned his hands, palms up, dark eyes wide and full of wonderment, as the delicate glass bauble set itself into them. 

“Holy shit,” Margo’s voice said from the doorway, and he started and turned, holding the ornament to his chest. 

“Did you see that, or did I imagine it?” Quentin asked, and Margo grinned. 

“I saw it! You found your discipline, Q! The way your hands worked in a spell you couldn’t possibly know yet?” 

“But what does it mean?” He asked, and Margo beckoned him. 

“Come on . . . I”ll show you.” 

Quentin paused long enough to put the ornament back into the box and carried it with him as Margo led him back downstairs, where she took out a leather-bound book. 

“This is a listing of all the disciplines and their meanings . . .” She flipped a few pages and then traced a finger down one before she tapped a paragraph with a lacquered nail. “Here! Repairer of small objects.”

Quentin looked over her shoulder. 

“That’s it?” 

“Small broken objects are attracted to you, especially those that want to be repaired.” She glanced at the box. “I guess that includes Christmas ornaments.” 

The cottage door opened a moment later and Margo and Quentin looked up to see Eliot sweep in, along with a gust of cold air. He unwound his dark woolen scarf and then paused, his eyes widening when he saw the box sitting on the coffee table near the Christmas tree. 

“What the fuck--what do you think you’re doing with that? DId you go through my closet, Quentin?” He snapped, and Quentin took a step forward. 

“El please, don’t be mad, I can explain if you just give me a minute--” 

Eliot pulled a gilded pocketwatch from his vest, clicked the face open, and nodded. 

“Starting now.” 

“We were putting up the tree and-- and well, Margo asked me to get an extension cord from your closet so I used a spell that let me reach it, but uhm--I fell and other stuff fell too, including that box and--and I’m so sorry, I know I messed up but--” He retrieved the box and offered it to Eliot. Eliot snatched it away but then paused as he saw the ornament inside. He stared at it and then staggered a few feet to the couch, where he sat down hard. Quentin gave Margo a worried glance. 

“El? What’s wrong? Did I screw it up? I wasn’t exactly in control of the spell, Margo said it’s my discipline--fixing small things, I mean. I’m sorry I broke it . . .” 

“You didn’t.” 

“Uhm--what?” 

“You didn’t break it, Q. It was already broken. It has been, for years . . . ever since I was seven years old.” 

“El . . . I don’t understand,” Quentin said, sitting down, and Eliot blinked tears from his eyes. 

“When I was seven, my Grandma Dottie lived with us. She was my father’s mother, but infinitely more kind. This ornament belonged to her grandmother, then her mother, and then her. She always waited until the tree was nearly finished and then she’d hang it up. That Christmas, she asked me if I’d like to help her hang it. I was real excited because it seemed like such a big deal--you know how it is when you’re a kid and an adult asks you for help. I picked it up and ran to her--and tripped over an empty box.” Eliot sighed. “The ornament hit the corner of her rocking chair and broke.” He closed his eyes a moment. “I’ll never forget the look on her face. I might as well have slammed her heart into the floor. She tried to act like it was all right, mostly so my father wouldn’t punish me. Not that it stopped him.” Eliot took the ornament from the box, his big, elegant hands cradling it. “She died two months later, of a stroke. Died in her sleep. I helped my father make her coffin.” He held the ornament up to the light. “I hid the pieces in my room for years and then took them with me when I left home. I would try to use my telekinesis on them but they would never mend right. Either they would knit and then fall apart or the glass would bulge in all different directions. I put it in my closet, hoping one day I’d learn magic that would help me fix it.” Eliot looked up at Quentin and smiled. “Or that the right kind of magic would come along. I guess it finally did.” 

“Do you want to put it on our tree?” Quentin asked with hesitation, and Eliot shook his head. 

“No, Q. I want us to.” 

“Us?” 

“Yes,” Eliot rose and offered Quentin his free hand. The younger magician blushed, hope rising in his heart, as he and Eliot went over to the tree. Quentin fanned out an empty branch and curved it upward to give the ornament more stability while Eliot slipped a hook into the top of the holder. He hung it while Quentin held the branch steady, and Margo cleared her throat. Eliot glanced over and she tipped her eyes toward the ceiling, where a sprig of mistletoe orbited. Eliot followed her gaze and grinned. 

“Looks like we’re standing under the mistletoe, Q.” 

Quentin glanced up and his heart quickened its pace. 

“Looks that way.” 

“Well then. Who am I to stand in the way of holiday tradition?” Eliot bent his head down and claimed Quentin’s lips, causing the younger man to give a short gasp. He gripped Eliot’s forearms as he was kissed for nearly half a minute. When Eliot finally pulled away, Quentin kept a grip on his arms so he wouldn’t fall into the tree. Eliot tugged him into a hug and whispered in his ear. 

“Merry Christmas, Quentin Coldwater.” 

“Merry Christmas, El,” Quentin smiled as he watched the ornament wink in the glow of the Christmas tree’s lights, a minor mending that meant little to the world outside but repaired and illuminated a room of memories in Eliot’s heart. 

THE END 

[trouvelle]

Emogust 09.08 — Stubbornness

For the last prompt (of the first week) of DCMK Emogust 09.08 — Stubbornness!!

A/N: Not sure if this fits the stubbornness theme but once I pictured them as kitties I just couldn’t stop squealing internally. I mean, who could resist kittens!AU?? So I had to do this because this is the only way I know how and I can’t for the life of me draw anything nice /cries/ @mintchocolateleaves @sup-poki 

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that anyone in possession of a kitten must constantly be in need of new blankets. And curtains. Or something like that. Maybe it’s just my kitten, Ran thinks, as she regards her curtains sadly. They have threads sticking out every way all along the bottom hems.

Shinichi has shredded the ends of her new ones, and while these not quite brand new, at least they weren’t so obviously scruffy before Shinichi came along. Gathering the curtains, she tucks them up on the handles of her French doors out of Shinichi’s reach before turning to the kitten in question.

Shinichi has magically gone from ripping around the apartment when Ran first came home to sitting quietly in a corner with his head cocked to one side. He is a picture of cuteness. Spoiled cat knows he’s in trouble. His eyes are shining bright as if they’re glittering, making him look harmless and innocent. Ran knows better.

But Ran has a huge heart so she picks Shinichi up and sits him in the crook of her elbow, before tapping him on his velvety nose, saying “Don’t rip up the curtains ever again, okay?”

She stares into Shinichi’s blue eyes. Blue eyes stare back at her. Ran stares some more. She’s not going to lose to this cat again! Finally Shinichi looks away first. First ever win since Shinichi’s been with her! Small victories win the battle~, Ran tells herself as she carries Shinichi into the kitchen, placing him on the counter.

“What shall we have today? Chicken and turkey casserole or grilled seafood feast?” She asks Shinichi, chucking him on the chin. Ran pulls out two cans of cat food and sets them in front of Shinichi. She watches as Shinichi sniffs one, sniffs the other, and then instead walks toward the bag of rotisserie chicken Kazuha has brought over earlier for dinner.

Against the advice of the vet at the shelter, Ran ends up sharing bits of her chicken with Shinichi. If he goes bald early it is definitely his own fault for being so cute anyway.

---

Kazuha’s the one who wanted a cat first.

“I think having a pet will help alleviate my stress levels and provide me some company. At least that’s what Aoko-chan says.” She told Ran enthusiastically over coffee one day. Across from them, Sonoko made a face, “But then you’re gonna have to feed it and clean up its mess. Sounds like a lot more trouble to me.”

“She does look happier lately since she got Kaito,” Ran noted. About a month prior, while the four of them were on their way back from their weekly routine of doing grocery shopping together they had passed by a pet adoption event. She immediately had her eyes set on a stunning white Manx cat and decided to adopt it the moment it opened its blue eyes and stared back at her. The name displayed on its cage was “Kaito” and she never bothered to come up with a new name for him.

That’s how they end up on a Saturday morning at their local cat shelter, watching two kittens chase each other around in a pen. They run many rounds before the dark chocolate one abruptly stops in its tracks and turns to bat the cream kitten on the head, hard. The other kitten is stunned for a moment, and then suddenly the high-speed chase turns into a round of head-bopping. Kazuha is confused. Will there be bloodshed any moment? She turned to look at Ran, is this how cats usually show affection?

They turn to ask the shelter staff and not a minute later when they turn their heads back, the cream kitten now has the head of the other kitten cradled between its paws, very diligently licking the tuft of dark brown fur sticking out from its head.

Kazuha watches with some disquietude as Ran squats so that her face is nearer to the kittens and makes cooing noises. The brown kitten’s eyes fly open and Kazuha swears he’s glaring at her for interrupting him. On the other hand, the cream Birman kitten now just looks sleepy, like all that has worn him out. He’s flopped onto the floor, one paw curled possessively over the other kitten’s neck. 

When Ran reaches down to pick up the cream kitten and cuddle it against her cheek, the brown one gives a sort of squeaking noise, and peeked his eyes open and shut it close again, not making any effort to get up. Kazuha makes a squealing noise herself, but for very different reasons. Surprisingly though, instead of lashing out at Ran’s face, the kitten starts making this odd whirring noise, and rubs his head against Ran’s cheek. He’s got really light brown markings around his eyes and snout.

“This one’s name is Shinichi!” Ran says brightly, immediately sold. 

Somehow, they end up taking both kittens. The chocolate one latches onto Kazuha’s sweater, snuggling into the soft wool when Kazuha picks him up. That’s when Kazuha notices he has tiny white socks on all his four paws.

“Snowfrost Socks would be a fitting name for him, Kazuha-chan!” suggested Ran. 

“I’m not calling him Snowfrost Socks, Ran-chan.”

Kazuha can hear the pout.

She lifts her kitten to eye level and looks into his dark green eyes. “It says here that his name is Heiji.” She grinned.

---

Ran regards the kitten which has been super active since she brought him home. She’d set up his bed for the night and shown him where his water bowl is. After the tour was done, he had promptly jumped onto Ran’s favorite plush bean bag chair and jumped down onto the carpet, before jumping up again. Seems like he’s found his spot.

“You’ll have to give them extra love and attention as they have abandonment issues from being abandoned by their mother.” That’s what the shelter staff told them. She’s not sure how to show extra love to a cat that literally does nothing but nap.

So she leaves Shinichi to it, and sets up her laptop to get some work done on an overdue paper. Barely five minutes into it, Ran feels something pulling on her pajama pants. She looks down to find Shinichi sitting at her feet, the claws of one paw hooked onto the hem of her right pant leg. Absentmindedly, she reaches out a hand to pat Shinichi on the head, once, twice, then resumes her typing.

Then it happens again. 

So she lifts Shinichi up onto her desk and coos over him for a bit, scratching his chin and tickling him behind his ears until he’s purring and pliant on the desk, eyes drooped close. When Shinichi looks like he’s fallen back asleep, Ran returns to her report.

But Shinichi wakes up again. This time, he thinks it’s a good idea to jump up and step on her keyboard. Her laptop makes a number of alarming noises and Ran scrunched her nose up. She shifts Shinichi off the laptop four times before she decides he’s probably not going to get any work done until she gives Shinichi some attention. 

Ran suddenly realizes this must be those abandonment issues coming into play! Picking him up, she moves them both to the shag rug in her living room and pulls out the catnip mouse she had gotten together with the other supplies earlier.

Shinichi only gives a couple of half-hearted pats at the mouse however, before he flops onto the rug, asleep. Ran watches the kitten sleeping, waits until it seems like he’s properly fallen asleep and sneaks back to her work.

Fifteen minutes tops. Shinichi is back at her ankles mewling again.

Ran discovers a pattern with her new kitten. Shinichi only wants attention when she’s trying to get things done on her laptop, or cooking herself some dinner—basically any time she is not playing with him means it’s petting time! 

Rana keeps repeating to herself, “abandonment issues, abandonment issues” and puts up with Shinichi’s stubbornness. He makes up for it when he snuggles up against Ran’s neck at night, warm and cozy, his steady purr a lullaby to them both.

---

Heijii is bristling on the couch, his fur still ruffled from his earlier freak-out, hissing and scratching at Sonoko when she’d tried to pick him up. Kazuha adds “precious baby kitty” to the list of names he must remember to tell visitors not to call Heiji.

Half speaking to herself, half to Heiji, Kazuha says, “I’m going to stay forever single if this keeps up.”

First it had been this guy whom Kazuha had invited in after their date. He was rather persistent and insisted they dove straight into a make-out session. He abruptly left because Heiji had bitten his ankles when he placed a hand onto Kazuha’s lap. She tried to reason that Heiji was just being territorial—Kazuha’s lap is usually his after all. Teruaki-kun lasted longer, but that was also probably because he was less aggressive. Heiji had leapt up to his thighs, claws digging into his jeans only when he’d suggested to Kazuha, “Why don’t you put your kitty in the bathroom? I don’t feel comfortable when he’s staring at us like that.”

Usually they get the most angry when instead of immediately tending to their wounds, Kazuha picks Heiji and asks, alarmed, “Did you get any blood under your claws?!”

“Hygiene is very important for growing young cats,” she tells Sonoko, the only one among them without a kitten. “Especially since they’ve been abandoned by their mother, there’s no one to teach him to clean out his paws properly so I have to be extra careful.”

Kazuha insists the problem must lie with those guys. Heijii has never scratched her in his life, he's only ever had sweet cuddles from her precious baby kitten. 

(Albeit being really grumpy at times, more often than not.)

When Kazuha forgets to feed him some snacks, Heiji starts wailing, a whining pathetic mewl that sounds a lot like crying. The same thing happens whenever her attention is divided and lies on anything else other than him. Really, this kitten could be extremely stubborn. But once Kazuha leaves what she’s doing to attend to Heiji, the kitten doesn’t seem that interested in playing with her. 

Some days she comes home after a having a really bad time at school, or work, or both. But whenever she sees Heiji’s tiny face relaxing as she scratches the back of his ears though, her heart always melts, along with her bad mood. Heiji could be rough to visitors (Kazuha fails to notice that it’s mostly toward male presence only) but he’s actually a really big softie. He has truly won her heart.

---

Playdates for Shinichi and Heiji usually end up with hours of cleaning for whoever hosts. The two go absolutely mad around each other, tearing around whatever room they are in, displaying some form of kitty-parkour as they vault over side tables, bounce off armchairs and balance on ledges, knocking over anything in the way. Kazuha and Ran soon learn to put away breakable objects and secure anything that can moved by a 4-pound kitten any time Shinichi and Heiji get together but collectively they still manage to smash uncountable bowls, many vases, and notably one extremely expensive frame from Kazuha’s father, a half dozen coffee mugs and—Ran sort of loses track along the way.

It’s Ran who has the bright idea to ask Aoko if they could have a playdate with her cat. Kazuha feels pretty anxious at first, since her kitten has a reputation of attacking random people at times. It’s only ever been Shinichi and Heiji, because they seem to be very close even back in their shelter days. Ran has no worries about Shinichi getting along with Aoko’s kitten, mainly because Shinichi is pretty reserved and doesn’t really bother anyone but her.

From what she’s head from Ran and Kazuha, their kittens are fairly possessive of each other and their owners. Indeed they look strikingly different, but Aoko gathers for herself that both cats are pretty similar as far as cat-personality goes. Her own kitten, Kaito, is nowhere as guarded as Shinichi and Heiji but he has his own fair share of stubbornness that she has to deal with. 

Unlike Shinichi and Heiji, Kaito is good at socializing with humans, especially with the ladies. He never seems to mind whenever any of Aoko’s girl friends pet him on his head, or stroke his fur, or pick him up and cuddle him around. Kaito is very welcoming and likes receiving any attention from anyone. Aoko often brings Kaito along with her on their girls days out because he’s such a friendly kitten. 

Sonoko adores Kaito so much so that she always squishes him to her cheeks and chest whenever she sees him. “It’s something about Kaito that’s so charming,” Sonoko gushed on one sunday afternoon when they were out in the usual coffeeshop (pet-friendly, yes). Aoko doesn’t get to hold him much whenever Sonoko is around because the latter often insist for the kitten to be held by her. The short-haired girl has now made up her mind on getting her own kitty cat as well. 

Kaito always knows when Aoko’s leaving the house, and he’d always whine to be brought along with her. Aoko doesn’t want to say that she can get jealous at times. (Especially when he’s comfortable nestled on Akako-chan’s chest, she grumbled to Ran once.) And every night Kaito always creeps up to her bed and settles on her shoulder. It’s as if he doesn’t want to be left alone and will do anything to be with her.

Apparently, all goes well. Aoko’s apartment hasn’t been decorated with broken pieces of glassware or furniture. 

All goes well, that is, until Kaito decides to lick Shinichi with his pink, slobbery tongue. The look on Shinichi’s face screams shock (Ran has learnt to read her cat) and Heiji, offended on his littermate’s behalf, shoots a paw out with claws extended and smacks Kaito on his face.

The round of screeching, yowling, whining and skittering claws on Aoko’s parquet floor goes on for twenty minutes until Ran and Kazuha bravely wade into the fray and grab their own kittens. Kaito manages to escape to the top of the washing machine in the laundry room. He’s not trembling in fear like Ran and Kazuha expected, and instead sort of looks like he is grinning happily.

“It could’ve been worse,” Ran says, ever the optimist.

Aoko puts her hands on her hips, nodding to herself, “I’ve never seen Kaito this way before. I think we should let the three of them have playdates more often. It’s good exercise!”

Shinichi and Heiji are completely quiet, save the occasional purrs on the way home, both asleep and exhausted from their earlier exertion. They are curled up around each other like a cream and brown yin and yang symbol.

[splendidlyimperfect]

When a magical mishap transforms Natsu, Sting and Rogue, Gray finds himself responsible for a horde of dragons.

Chapters (6/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Natsu Dragneel/Sting Eucliffe/Gray Fullbuster, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine, Levy McGarden/Gajeel Redfox Additional Tags: Canon Universe, Fairy Tail Dragon Slayers, Magical Accidents, Spells & Enchantments, Transformation, Dragons, Fluff and Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, kind of, baby dragons are basically kittens, I make the rules here, Fluff and Humor, Cute, like super fucking cute, it’s just dumb and fluffy okay

-----

The second night with the dragons was much more difficult than the first.

“Sting, sweetheart, please go to sleep,” Gray mumbled. There was a huff next to Gray’s head and he cracked his eye open to see Sting sitting next to the pillow, eyes wide as he stared at Gray. Gray sighed, reaching out and scratching behind Sting’s ears. “What’s wrong?”

Sting made a soft, whining sound and nudged Gray’s cheek with his head. Gray squinted at the clock next to the bed and groaned – it was only 2:47 a.m.

“You guys slept last night,” he said, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “Why are you suddenly nocturnal?” Sting blinked innocently and Gray rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that look.”

Sting made a soft chittering sound, but it was interrupted by a crash and a loud yelp from the living room. Gray swore, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he flicked on the lamp. Rogue and Natsu were nowhere to be seen, and the bedroom door was wide open.

“I swear I closed that,” Gray muttered, pushing himself out of bed and scooping up Sting before heading out into the hall. “What the hell are those two doing?”

With the lights off, the only illumination in the apartment was the soft glow of the moon through the living room window. Rogue sat in the middle of the carpet, tail whipping back and forth wildly as he stared at something in the kitchen. As soon as Gray set down Sting on the couch and stepped toward him, Rogue took off, digging his claws into the carpet and darting toward the front door.

Continue reading on AO3

“Get back here!” Gray shouted. Rogue yelped again, then leapt into the air and flipped around, darting between Gray’s legs and back toward the bedroom. As he passed the couch, Sting pounced down onto him, pinning him to the floor and growling. Rogue flipped onto his back, kicking at Sting with his hind feet while Sting nipped at his neck.

“Just… stay there,” Gray said, peeking into the kitchen. There was a faint scratching sound from the corner and Gray sighed, stepping over to the pantry. Natsu froze when he saw Gray, one paw still on the door. “You’re a terror,” Gray said, leaning down to grab Natsu, who growled at him playfully and darted between his legs. “Would you—for crying out loud, it’s three in the morning!”

Natsu chittered at him, charging at Sting and Rogue, who were still grappling next to the couch. A flurry of movement was followed by several loud yelps that ended with Natsu being pinned by both Sting and Rogue.

“Stop it,” Gray grumbled, yawning again. They all looked up at him, tails flicking and eyes wide. “You can fight when it’s not the middle of the night. Please?”

None of them moved and Gray glanced down the hallway longingly at the bedroom. Part of him was tempted to just leave them here and go back to bed, but the other part was terrified of what they’d do unsupervised.

Natsu bit Sting’s paw and Sting yelped, tumbling backward against Gray’s legs. Gray quickly trapped Sting between his feet, then grabbed Rogue and Natsu by their scruffs. Both of them immediately started to whine, scrabbling to escape his grip.

“Enough,” Gray said, voice sharp with irritation. All three of them immediately stopped, ears going flat against their heads. A tiny pang of guilt ran through Gray, but it was quickly pushed aside by exhaustion. “I’m tired,” he said, tucking both Natsu and Rogue under one arm and bending down to pick up Sting. Natsu reached out to bat at Sting but quickly pulled back when Gray glared at him. “Knock it off. It’s the middle of the night and we are all going to sleep, got it?”

He headed back into the bedroom and dumped all three dragons onto the bed, then closed the door firmly behind him and dragged the bedside table in front of it for good measure. Natsu immediately scrambled down from the bed and attempted to scratch at the door, but Gray caught him and set him back down again next to the other two.

“Sleep,” he said again, yawning and curling up on his pillow. He reached out for the three of them, patting the bed next to him. “C’mere.”

Natsu grumbled but moved up, turning in several circles before curling up next to Gray. Sting and Rogue quickly followed him, and when Gray eventually fell asleep again, it was to all three dragons purring against his chest. 

~

Showering the next morning was an ordeal. As soon as Gray turned on the water, all three dragons hissed and scattered throughout the house, and he spent the next five minutes finding them all in their respective hiding spots and bringing them back into the bathroom.

“I’m not washing any of you,” he insisted, closing the door behind him and locking it. “I just don’t trust you out there.”

When he stepped into the shower, all three dragons made distressed noises. “It’s okay,” he said, peeking around the shredded curtain to see Natsu with his paws up on the edge of the tub again. “You’re going to fall in again, get out of here.” Natsu chirped at him, backing away from the tub and pacing uneasily.

Gray quickly soaped up his hair and was in the middle of rinsing it when the shower curtain rattled. He shook the water out, wiping his eyes and looking up to see Rogue peeking curiously at him from over the curtain rod. Tiny holes made a pattern from the bottom of the fabric up to where Rogue was now perched precariously.

“I’m fine,” Gray insisted, sighing as Sting’s paws appeared on the edge of the tub next to the tap. He whined at Gray, eyes wide as he shifted back and forth on his hind feet. Natsu’s head popped up next to Sting’s and Gray could see the shadows of both of their tails flicking wildly on the other side of the curtain.

When Gray finally stepped out of the shower with the towel wrapped around him, Natsu and Sting crowded around his ankles anxiously, rubbing themselves up against his legs.

“You’re the ones who hate water, not me,” Gray said, shaking his head and reaching down to pick up each of them and set them on the bathroom counter. Sting snuffled uncertainly and Gray scratched behind his ears as Rogue clambered down from the damaged shower curtain and settled on the back of the toilet.

Natsu seemed satisfied that Gray was unharmed and turned to sniff his toothbrush instead. A flick of red in the mirror caught his eye and he immediately growled, jumping forward and smashing directly into the mirror.

Gray snorted, shaking his head and reaching out to tug Natsu away from the glass. “That’s just your reflection, idiot.” Natsu squirmed out of his grip, shaking himself off and batting at the mirror again. When his paw hit the glass, he made a puzzled sound, looking up at Gray, who rolled his eyes. “Of course you want to fight yourself. Why wouldn’t you? You want to fight literally everything else you see.”

Natsu huffed at him, then turned back to the mirror and rumbled at his reflection, spreading out his wings and headbutting the glass.

“At least you’re not destroying my carpet,” Gray sighed, reaching out to turn on the tap. Sting squeaked, backing away from the water and nearly falling off the edge of the counter before Gray grabbed him and set him down on the back of the toilet next to Rogue.

By the time Gray was done shaving, Natsu was still growling at the mirror, and Rogue was busy grooming Sting’s fur while Sting stared at Natsu quizzically.

“Nobody knows why he’s the way he is, it’s not just you,” Gray reassured Sting, tugging on his shirt and re-wrapping the bandage around his forearm. “Natsu, you’re going to give yourself a concussion.”

Natsu backed up a few steps, flicking his tail, then hissed and flung himself forward at the mirror again. When he slammed into it with a dull thud, Sting looked up at Gray and chirped at him.

“I know,” Gray said, shaking his head and grabbing Natsu around the middle. Natsu grumbled at him, squirming for a second before giving up on his reflection and turning around to clamber up onto Gray’s shoulder. “C’mon, you two,” Gray said, reaching out for Sting and Rogue, who happily scrambled up into his arms. “Let’s go see if Freed figured out how to turn you back.”

~

The walk to the guild was full of playful tussles, and it was nearly noon by the time they walked through the doors into the hall.

“You managed to get the icing out?” Lucy teased from the bar, waving them over.

“Barely,” Gray muttered, depositing all three dragons on the counter and showing Lucy his bandaged arm. “Apparently they don’t like water.”

Natsu scrambled over to Lucy and chirped happily, rubbing his head against her outstretched hand and then curling up next to her. Sting and Rogue both sat on their haunches, looking around the guild curiously.

“Have you heard from Freed?” Erza asked, sitting down next to Gray. He shook his head, yawning and reaching across the counter to grab himself a cup of coffee.

“I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

Sting approached Gray’s coffee cup carefully, sniffing it before wrinkling his nose and rubbing a paw across his face. “You don’t like that, huh?” Gray asked, laughing and petting the top of Sting’s head. Sting made a sound that was almost a sneeze, then glared suspiciously at the mug and returned to Rogue’s side.

“Good morning!” Mira appeared on the other side of the counter and reached out her hand to the dragons, laughing happily when they sniffed her and licked her fingers. “Are they hungry?” she asked Gray. All three of them immediately perked up, staring at Mira with wide eyes.

“Always,” Gray said, poking Natsu, who squeaked at him and nipped his finger. “They’ve nearly eaten everything we bought yesterday already. I’m surprised they haven’t doubled in size.”

Sting, who was undeniably the roundest of the three – even without the fluff – chirped at Gray. “Yes, you’re very cute,” Gray reassured him, holding out his hand for Sting to rub his head against. “You’re just insatiable.”

Gray slowly relaxed with Lucy and Erza as Mira brought out a plate for the dragons – raw slabs of bacon and ham that she cut into small chunks and they devoured eagerly. A few tussles broke out between them for the larger pieces of food, but Gray let them fight it out, watching with amusement as Sting puffed his fur up as much as possible whenever the others tried to steal from him.

It was nearing midafternoon when Freed finally surfaced from the basement with Levy close behind him, both carrying stacks of books and looking relieved.

“You figured it out?” Gray asked hopefully, wincing as Sting kneaded his bandaged arm and rubbed his head against Gray’s chest.

“We think so,” Levy said, sounding breathless as she set her stack of books on the counter. Natsu immediately ran up to it and sniffed it curiously, and when Levy reached out her hand for him, he rumbled with a happy purr. When Gajeel appeared behind her, Natsu’s ears flattened against his head and he let out a warning growl.

“Don’t antagonize them,” Levy chastised as Gajeel made a face at Natsu, who hissed and flicked his tail. “Be nice.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Gajeel insisted, but when Levy glared at him, he took a step back. Natsu huffed, shaking out his wings and keeping a suspicious eye on Gajeel as he settled back on his haunches next to Rogue.

“I really hope they remember this when they turn back,” Gray muttered. Sting, who had clambered up onto his shoulder, made a concerned sound, and Gray reached up to scratch behind his ears. “Don’t worry,” he murmured quietly, turning to kiss Sting’s nose. “You’ll still be cute when you’re not fluffy.”

There was a snort from Laxus nearby, and Gray steadfastly ignored the heat creeping up the back of his neck and into his cheeks.

“Well,” Freed said, tapping the pile of books on the counter, “The counterspell should work.” Gray raised an eyebrow.

“Should?”

Freed sighed, rubbing his face and looking over at Levy. “Well, there are no guarantees,” he said. “Magic isn’t always precise, and when you throw translations into the mix…”

“Do we have another choice?” Gray asked.

Freed tipped his head side to side. “Not really. Unless you want to make a trek to Isvan and storm a dark guild.”

Gray shuddered, unconsciously touching the scar on his wrist. “No thanks.”

~

Almost an hour later, they were all back in the field by Gray’s house. It took a few minutes to get the three dragons settled into a similar protection circle that Freed had drawn the first time they’d done the spell. Every time Gray stepped away from them, they all made distressed sounds, scampering after him and trying to climb up his legs.

“Stay,” Gray said firmly, scooping them up and setting them back in the circle again. “I promise I’ll be fine.”

Eventually Lucy ended up running back to Gray’s house to grab some raw fish to set in the circle, and they were able to trick the three of them into devouring it instead of running after Gray.

“Quickly,” Freed said, reaching out for Levy’s hand as Gray backed up toward Lucy. Laxus stood behind Freed and Levy, arms crossed over his chest as he watched them begin to read from the scroll. The same crackling energy from before started to swirl around the dragons, and when they started whining in confusion, Gray felt a sharp pang of guilt. He almost moved forward to grab them out of instinct, but Lucy held his arm, whispering, “They’ll be okay.”

Gray closed his eyes as the sound and the magic intensified, filling the air with the same strange pressure until it reached a crescendo and disappeared with a quiet ‘pop.’

There was an eerie silence as the dust settled, revealing the three dragons, just as they had been moments ago. Almost immediately all three of them began to growl, looking around in confusion. Sting’s hackles were up and Natsu had spread his wings, while Rogue bared his teeth and kneaded his claws into the grass.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Gray murmured, moving toward them. “It didn’t work, but you’re fi—”

A sound like a tiny sneeze interrupted him, and a short, sharp bolt of lightning burst across the ground, zapping the grass next to Sting’s paws. Sting hissed, scurrying away from the black mark in the ground and looking around, wide-eyed.

“What the…” Gray trailed off as Freed stepped to the side, revealing another baby dragon – this one white and gold, with bright eyes and tiny lines of electricity sparking around its wings.

“Oh,” Freed said, staring at the dragon. “Well, shit.”  

[aveyondwinterexchange]

Homemade Holidays

A cheery fire crackled in the far corner of the many ornate bedrooms filling the Sedona Manor. The fire cast a warm glow over the room, illuminating the sword singer armour hanging on the rack and the violet haired young woman sitting on her bed. Melancholy hung around her as she gazed at the fresh sprig of holly in her hand. 

A soft knock on the door of her room made the female jump slightly, a startled look washing over her ruddy features. 

“Rhen, can I come in?” Called a familiar voice. 

“Uh, sure.” Rhen called, her answer a beat behind what would have been normal. 

At her words the door opened slightly, making just enough room for the more slender form of a certain green haired sorcerer to slip inside before the door was closed behind him. 

“Lars? Please tell me that Galahad didn’t break another dining chair throwing it at Te’ijal.” Rhen groaned, envisioning the mess already.

“Actually, no. They’re all actually coexisting pretty well.” He said distractedly, glancing away for a moment. “I came more here for….well I came to see how you were doing.” 

He trailed off then, Rhen staring at him in puzzlement. 

“How I was doing?? I’m not sick..” Then she considered her statement for a moment. “At least I’m pretty sure I’m not. Did Dameon say he sensed illness or something?”

Lars heaved a theatric sigh. 

“The Sun Priest never said a thing, I came here because of that.” Lars scoffed, pointing at the holly in her hands. “When that traveller gave it to us in talking about spreading the joy your face sort of fell. You’ve been absurdly happy all week before that after we finished the most recent quest so what changed?”

Rhen hesitated, purple eyes travelling from her friend and down to the green leaves in her hand. As she stared down her minds eye let the room around her fade, memories of a cozy cottage filled with the sound of winter sweets and the folk songs celebrating the winter solace dancing through her mind. She could almost smell the cinnamon-..

“-ehn? Rhen?? Helloo!”

The hand that settled on her shoulder to give a light shake jolted her back into awareness and she looked up at Lars with a slightly sad smile. 

“Back home right now in Clearwater they’re having a festival, to celebrate the Winter Solace which falls today. Since I….was taken I haven’t payed much attention to the holidays but when I saw that man it all just suddenly hit me.” Rhen ran a finger over one of the leaves, “I knew him from a nearby village, seeing him again and receiving the holly we use in the celebrations just brought back memories.”

Silence fell over the pair, the corners of Rhen’s mouth drooping again. There was a shift from in front before and impatient sigh escaped a certain green haired male as he unceremoniously reached down to yank Rhen to her feet.

“Lars?! What-”

“We already have a moping and overall irritating member of this group, you won’t add a second one or I swear I’ll blast you all” He snarked, Rhen rolling her eyes at him as he continued. “So what you can’t be home? It hardly means that you have to ignore the celebration, we can make our own right here.”

His statement made Rhen blink in surprise before she slowly glanced around them, a small smile beginning to form.

“That’s true, and I know the perfect person to help me make this a Winter Solace……”

At the suddenly mischievous gleam in Rhen’s eyes Lars immediately put his hands up in protest, but there was no stopping the swordsinger as she in one fell swoop pulled all the blankets and sheets off her bed to dump over his arms.

“Hey! I have things I want to get done before we start off for the next part of the quest!” Lars protested in vain as he was pulled over to under the large chandelier hanging over an ornate carpet. 

“Can you create light that doesn’t come from fire?” Rhen asked eagerly, ignoring her friends protest.

Indignation washed across Lars features before he finally let out a sigh and rolled his eyes, apparently giving in.

“Yes I can, I’ll take care of that now before you get too excited and end up setting our manor on fire.” He muttered, the rush of magic in the room snuffing out the candles as floating around near the roof incandescent green orbs.

“That’s perfect!! And it’s the colour of the holly even….” Rhen smiled softly before a look of determination pushed aside the melancholy as she went to work.

Grabbing a nearby chair Rhen placed it firmly beneath the chandelier, grabbing one end of a thin sheet from Lars arms to pull up with her as she stood on the chair and stretched up to loop the end of the sheet around one of the chandelier arms and tie it.

“Pass me another blanket end will you?? I’m going to turn this into the Maypole!” Rhen exclaimed with bright grin.

“You’re going to fall if you aren’t careful.” Her friend sighed, though despite his words he handed up another blanket end for tying.

The young sword singer just laughed at his concern, leaning and bending as she tied blankets to the metal arms perfectly spaced for their improvised solace celebration. Soon she had tied all the blankets, except for one last one on the far end from where she was standing.

“Get off the chair so we can move it over.” Lars ordered, moving towards the chair only to be hit in the face with the end of the sheet by Rhen.

“Halt thy steps! I can do it from here, I’ll show you.“ 

Then without the least bit of concern for her own wellbeing the lilac haired young woman proceeded to brace one foot on the back of the chair and push off the seat to balance on the back.

“What are you DOING?!” Lars shrieked, voice hitting a rather impressive pitch as he watched Rhen hurriedly tie the sheet just in time for the chair to tip forward and send her tumbling towards the ground.

The green haired male let out a startled curse, lurching forward to catch the young woman before she could hit the ground but before he could so much as touch her Rhen had already curled and twisted before landing lithely on her feet with a small cheer.

“Done!!”

“…….Our quest is being led by a reckless idiot.” Lars grumbled.

Rhen laughed at that, turning to grin impishly at her friend who muttered a few choice words under his breath as he grabbed the chair and moved it back to where it had been originally sitting against the wall.

With a light and excited laugh Rhen grabbed one of the sheets in a loose grip, twirling around the fabric before setting off in dance as she wove between sheets and attempted to sing the song that was traditional during the Winter Solace.

“You’re dreadfully off-key.” Lars complained, Rhen stopping her song and pouting a moment.

“I’d like to see you do better.” She sniffed, turning her nose up at him teasingly.

“Alright then, I will.”

His words brought Rhen pause as she stopped and stared at him, surprise filling her features as he opened his mouth and a soft but steady song began to fill the room, volume growing with Lars confidence.

Soon Rhen was dancing again, clapping and whirling between the fabric that moved in the breeze coming in her open window at the far end of the room. Lars song rose and fell with the movements of the dance, the sorcerer having all but entirely forgotten that the song he sang was one he had only ever heard from the mouths of the slaves he had once held such distain for.

As the song ended and Lars voice faded Rhen paused in her spinning and moving under the chandelier, turning to look at Lars who had been watching her antics with a barely there smile. 

“Hey Lars, c'mere a moment.” Rhen singsonged, stepping out away from her improvised maypole.

Lars raised a brow, clearly uninspired by her call as he leaned comfortably against her wall. She snorted at his look, approaching her friend and catching his hand to pull him into the middle of the open space of her room. At her causal touch Lars eyes widened slightly, a soft blush lighting his features although he would have denied it had anything to do with the beaming sword singer holding his hand to his dying breath.

“Come on! I’m going to teach you the traditional dance!” Rhen urged, pulling him to the middle of the empty carpet and grabbing his other hand as she turned to face him.

“A  dance?!” Lars squawked, halfheartedly attempting to pull free.

Rhen tightened her grip slightly to keep him in place, cheeks pink from excitement and exertion as she nodded eagerly.

“Come on! You’re a noble that’s danced before right? This shouldn’t be that hard for you.“ 

Lars gave a pointed sniff.

"I’ll have you know I’ve been learning dance since I was a child, the kinds of formal dance that takes place in the empress courts. I would hardly know what to do during a commoners folk dance.”

The moment the words left his mouth, hints of distain in his tone a sudden look of sheepish regret crossed his features, shoulders slumping slightly. There were some habits that died hard clearly. He moved to pull away once again but Rhen gave him a tug, causing the tanned male to stumble forward towards her.

“Well then it’s only fair that you learn my dance, since you’re not in the empress courts right now, you’re in my room.” Rhen stated, Lars hesitating before giving a slight nod. “Great! Now follow my steps as I go back….”

It didn’t take long for the young sorcerer to pick up the steps she was teaching him, and soon the two of them were dancing around the carpet with only a few mishaps of Rhen stepping on Lars feet as he missed a step.

Their laughter floated through the window over the streets as the two teens let go of the weight of the quest on their shoulders for just a few moments, the room blurring around them as they spun and let their steps carry them around the ornate carpet. 

“Hey yoUWAH!" 

Rhen’s statement was cut off as in her as in distraction her leg caught the blue robe swirling around Lars feet in time to his movements. With twin exclamations as they were brought to halt the two of them found themselves tangled as they tipped backwards and landed in a heap on the carpet.

Lars let out a loud oof as Rhen landed rather ungracefully on top of him, both of them staring at each other in shock as they processed what had just happened.

A moment of stunned silence.

Then at once both of them burst into hysterical laughter, Rhen rolling sideways to land on the carpet next to Lars as chortles escaped her. She gasped slightly trying to catch her breath as she recovered from the whirlwind of movement they had just abruptly fallen out of.

"That was fun, I haven’t been this relaxed in forever.” Rhen admitted, still slightly breathless.

Lars made a sound of agreement and Rhen turned her head to look at her friend. As she dropped her head to he side she found herself face to face with Lars, vibrant green eyes so close as they met her violet orbs. There was a heavy silence before Lars turned pink and abruptly pushed himself upright to stand.

“There’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, come on.” He tossed gruffly over his shoulder as he moved to her window and opened it fully.

Rhen scrambled to her feet, slightly thrown by what had just taken place but recovering quickly as she reached the window and climbed out behind her sorcerer friend.

“Careful.” Lars said quietly as Rhen stepped out and wobbled slightly.

Reaching over and taking hold of Rhen’s hand from where he stood above her he carefully helped guide her further up, Rhen actually allowing him despite herself as they made their way up to the flat portion over her room.

“It’s freezing out here.” Rhen muttered as they took a seat with their backs against the other peak.

There was a shuffling noise next to her and Rhen turned sharply only to flush as with a flair of blue fabric a warm robe was settled over her front and she was pulled into Lars side.

“To conserve warmth.” He defended, refusing to look at her when the violet eyes young woman looked up at him from where she had been tucked under his arm.

A pleased smile flitted across Rhen’s lips and she ducked her head to hide the expression from her companion, leaning into him slightly as she rested her head against his shoulder.

Silence fell over them as they gazed up at the sky, a soft cry of delight escaping Rhen as a shooting star flew overhead through the midnight sky.

“I know that this wasn’t exactly the holiday you wanted at home, but did this at least help?”

Lars question broke the silence and Rhen looked over at her friend, the green eyed male gazing down at her inquisitively.

Rhen considered his question a moment before smiling softly, eyes sparkling as stars flew by overhead.

“Yeah. This was a wonderful Winter Solace, thank you Lars.” She said quietly, leaning up to brush a featherlight kiss across his cheek.

Surprise flickered across his face before he shot her a crooked smile, dipping his head down to gently press his lips against hers. 

Moments later he pulled away, both blushing brightly yet wearing matching smiles as they settled back to watch the show. Rhen’s head nestled against his shoulder. his cheek resting on the crown of her hair as they watched the stars celebrate the Winter Solace.

@queen-of-ice101‘s gift for @anusha52!