#i’m enjoying the little tiny bat snouts

[tadpole-apocalypse]

Some githyanki girlies!

Sarana for @grandmother-goblin

Euva for @haarleps

Yehn’za for @gothimp

[davinawritings]

You can write werewolf × reader!Fox fem (enemies are lovers), where we constantly tease him)) (fuck)

Pairing: Male Werewolf x Fem Fox Hybrid Reader

Warnings: Sex, unprotected sex, public sex, breeding, creampie, knotting

I hope you enjoy ❤️���🖤🖤💕❤️

Realistically, your feud with your massive werewolf neighbor was not something you should spend so much time and energy on. In all fairness, he started your little feud when he trampled over your flower garden on his way back from one of his runs. 

You confronted him once you saw it, and he told you to stop being so sensitive and grow more flowers. From that point on, he became enemy number one. If he wanted to be an asshole, you would be petty and make him miserable. It started small with things like sending him anonymous packages that shot out hot pink glitter when opened and sprinkling his entire front yard with orbeez the night before it rained. He always matched your energy, giving just as good as he got. 

Months later, you needed more ideas. However, a new thought pops into your mind as you see him arrive home from a run. You have lived next to him long enough to know his rut should be starting tomorrow, and he is always particularly wound up the day before. 

What better way to torture your werewolf neighbor than to tease him right before his rut? You quickly run to your bedroom and change into a very short sundress, deciding to forgo panties. 

You make your way to his house and knock on the door with a sickly, sweet smile. Upon noticing your presence, he answers the door with his usual scowl. His voice is gruff and slightly raspy as he asks, “What do you want?”

His voice sends tingles straight through your core, and your brain falters momentarily as you take in his scent. Your pussy begins to slick with arousal, and you squeeze your thighs together. You recover quickly, watching as his eyes rake over your figure and his hands clench, his claws biting into his skin.

You bat your eyelashes and reply, “Well, I was going to make some cookies and realized I am out of sugar. I was wondering if you had any I could use.” He looks at you skeptically before he licks his front teeth and says, “No, I don’t have any sugar.” 

You give him a pout, smiling internally as you watch his eyes flicker to your lips. “Ok. I figured, but it was worth a shot”, you say as you begin to make your way back down the steps of his front porch. 

Right as you get to the last step, you give a small jump to get down to the ground. The small rush of air causes the short skirt of your sundress to rise. You use your tail to flick the skirt even higher, clearly showing your lack of panties and spreading your arousal through the air.

You make it one more step before his strong arms pull you back and into his large chest. He dips his head low, his snout brushing your ear as he says, “You shouldn’t have done that, little fox. I have been fighting for control since I opened the door to you in this fucking tiny sundress. I’m starting my rut, and you decide to come over here and put your ass on full fucking display. This slutty little body is just begging to be bred and knotted”. 

You know you should stay strong and pull from his arms. This is supposed to be you teasing him, not giving in to him, but as you feel his massive cock rub into your lower back, you can’t help but moan and rub back against him. He growls before pushing you onto your hands and knees right in the front yard. 

“Wait, we need to go inside. People could see us”, you say, moving to get back up. He places one of his hands on the back of your neck and shoves your chest against the ground; your ass is high in the air as he flips the bottom of your dress up and over the small of your back. 

“I don’t think so, little fox. You weren’t so concerned about others seeing this perfect little ass. I’m going to fuck you and breed you right here where everyone can see you being my little slut”, he says. Before you have a chance to respond, he thrusts inside of you, and you scream out at the stretch. 

He sets a brutal pace as he fucks you with the sole purpose of knotting and breeding your tight cunt. You can’t help but meet him thrust for thrust, as he rearranges your insides. He manages to hit every fucking nerve ending in your dripping pussy, pleasure crashing over you in tidal waves. 

You should be embarrassed by the spectacle he is making of you. A small glance up shows that your neighbors are indeed watching him breed you; your moans and screams clearly caught their attention.

He leans down and gives a low chuckle as he feels you cream all over his cock again. He gives your ear a little nip before teasing, “You like this, don’t you? Everyone watching me claim and breed you. I can feel your tight cunt cumming all over my cock, and you haven’t even gotten my knot yet, little fox,”. 

You can’t even respond, too overwhelmed with pleasure as he gives your ass a harsh smack, grabbing your tail and pulling on it to drag your pussy back to him with each thrust. 

His thrusts speed up and become harsher as he works to fuck his knot inside you. Your nails dig into the dirt as he gives one last push, his knot popping in and splitting your pussy wide open. Your scream as you cum harder than ever before, your legs shaking and tears pouring down your face as your try and fuck yourself back on him as much as possible. 

He moans loudly as his cock finally starts filling you up with his seed, his knot keeping everything locked in tight. He holds your trembling body close to his own as his orgasm finally comes to a stop, your pussy and womb overstuffed and full of him.

He holds your lower half against him tightly, trying not to jostle you on his knot too much as he stands. He begins returning to his house as he says, “Get ready for when my knot goes down, little fox. That was just a taste; I haven’t even truly started my rut yet, and you haven’t seen what I plan on doing to this gorgeous little body now that no one is watching”. Your cunt clenches around his knot, already excited for what’s to come. 

❤️💕🖤🖤💕❤️

[cassieuncaged]

Batstarion (Astarion x Reader)

Summary: You share some time with a certain Ascended Vampire in bat form.

TW: none :)

WC: 1 K

A/N: just a fluffy oneshot inspired by Pani-artz Batstarion series, that’s all :)

Long, leathery wings stretch across the tufted cushion, a flurry of squeaks escaping before you whisper an evocation.

“Amicus animalis,” your fingers trace his tiny body, getting lost in the snowy coat that covers him. “You may speak now, love.”

“Lord,” he corrects in that buttery voice you delight in so much, though it’s difficult to take anything serious when Astarion lounges about in bat form. White pinpricks appear from behind an upturned snout, his menace evaporated as beady eyes muster any intimidation. “I am your lord and you will regard me as such.”

“Oh?” You bring a finger up to one fang, releasing a droplet that’s offered to the bat. A tiny pink tongue laps at it lazily. “It’s I who sits upon your throne; shan’t I be your lord?”

“Do not mock me, pet,” he seethes, though that pink noses nuzzles against your finger before sharply latching. He sips though it feels more like a tickle when he’s in this form, “I’m ghastly.”

“You’re adorable.” You coo, scratching beneath a fuzzy chin as he likes. When you stop, you noticed his batty expression has softened, tiny features relaxed. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely,” he sighs, wings twitching against either of your thighs, cartilaginous sinews loosening as his claws dig into your breeches. “Turn me."

“Isn’t my lovely face enough?” You jest though some truth is hidden in that; after all, it’s been almost a year since you’ve last seen your own reflection. Now you chat with the bat form of your lover and closest confidant. Were you finally losing what was left of your mind?

“Don’t be naïve,” he tsks, sinking into the tufted velvet. “I’d like to look upon the audience.”

“The hall is empty, my love,” your eyes fall on the empty benches as wings threaten to flap. “Patience, I’ve got you.”

One hand slid beneath his warm belly, enjoying the heat you no longer wrought. Then he was carefully scooped and turned so that beady little gaze to see the ornate room that often clamored for the attention of the lord regally displayed upon the dais. Then a content chirp echoed through the vaulted ceilings as his body spasmed.

“Imagine if all the citizens of Baldur’s Gate saw you now, my lov…, my lord.” One finger began stroking from between tiny coned ears to the root of a wiry tail. His fur was so luscious and soft, not unlike the curls so carefully manicured atop his head, “Commanding with such ferocity propped upon the lap of your consort.”

“I suppose it would be quite the sight,” he chuckled, making her shiver like it always did. “Baldur’s Mouth would have quite the story. ‘Decrees heralded by rodent’; I think it’s silly enough to make the front page.”

“Think yourself popular, do you?” you teased, enjoying the moments he was seemingly relaxed and docile; they were so far few and between these days.

“Darling, I know I am.” He wriggled playfully against the cushion before pinkish hued wings began to flap. It was always mesmerizing to watch him float, expecting him to morph back into himself with a cloud of smoke. But he remained as he was, eyeing you expectantly. “The sun has long set; let’s peruse the palace gardens.”

The velveteen cushion was tucked upon the seat of the gilded throne as he began to glide to the far end of the hall, leaving you practically sprinting to catch up. Boots clacked against the marble floor, robes swishing around sure legs as you raced down the aisle. He paused, wings flapping in place as your place was taken beside him.

“Do keep up, dear,” he chided, little teeth clicking as he gracefully dove through the opened oak doors and down the decadently decorated hallway. “We haven’t all night. Oh, wait; we do don’t we?”

Your chuckle mingled with his, allowing the flamboyant bat dart to through the ornate glass doors that servants obediently wrenched open. It was a treat to watch him dive through the hedged archways, dipping down to bury his nose in a budding rose that practically glowed beneath the full moon.

“Pick one,” he encouraged, “Put it behind your ear.”

Doing as asked, two red pinpricks watched diligently as the petals hung over the shell of your ear. Then, it finally happened, fluffy white bat dissipating into a black mist before Astarion stretched out in front you, gently tipping your chin upwards.

“Beautiful.” He cooed before pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Just beautiful.”

“Would ‘Batstarion’ agree?” you giggled, enjoying the quiet moments before the hammer inevitably dropped. He was so rarely this tender and you missed it terribly. Gently, he pulled your hand into his before drifting to the edge of the gardens.

“He loves flowers, that’s true.” He grins, wiping residual pollen from his own nose, “Though I’m unable to hold you with those bloody wings. Not to mention the language barrier.”

“I love the chirps,” you argued, enjoying the arm that instinctually wrapped around your waist, possessively. “It’s very cute.”

“I’m meant to be menacing,” he growls and you’re reminded of his other form, back elongating, jaw distending. You shivered at the thought. So you allow your fingers to dance across a strong cheekbone as his gaze fell upon the lights twinkling lights in the Lower City below. “How will I ever rule The Sword Coast if I’m not?”

“In due time, my love.” You reassured him, enjoying the caress of his cold breath against your ear. “This will all be ours. They’ll pledge fealty and you can rest upon as many velvet pillows as you please. I’ll even rub your little furry belly.”

“Will you?” then, when you expected his teeth to plunge into your neck but nuzzled against you again. A welcome change. “That’d be strangely comforting.”

[cheemscakecat]

Some more Flying fox and other bat stuff, ‘cause they’re cool.

I decided to make RED Medic Tf2 a vampire who turns into a Flying Fox since the lanky big look suits him better than the scrunch faced donut look of tiny bats.

Anyways, here’s more bat content.

So a Flying Fox is like a lanky sky cat.

They eat fruit, not bugs/blood.

Baby bat rescue.

Overall, pretty spooky by fun creature.

Also, shoutout to the eeping big bat that got passed around by people on social media, just because they were scared of him.

He tired, let him sleep in peace.

Now onto tiny bats.

Overall, a much smaller type of bar with big ears and a scrunchie face. And one that I feel looks too harmless to be the crazy Medic from RED. Even if they are the bug-eating bats.

This is a vampire bat, and they’re the only species that really drinks blood. Also relatively ugly compared to the other tiny bats with their layered looking snout. I still think a flying fox suits Medic tf2 more, even if they’re fruit bats.

They even come in a reddish variant!

Also, while I’m on the subject, someone made a monster mercs AU where Spy’s vampire form is a Mediterranean Horseshoe bat…

The disrespect! This dumb little creature is living its best life, but don’t do Spy dirty like that.

Rescue of a tiny little bug-eating bat in France. We forget how cool it is that mammals can be this small, including mice.

Hope you enjoyed the bat content.

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Jayson, part Two

Rating: NSFW Length: 2381 Pairing: Male Crocodilian Lizardfolk x Male Reader (both cis)

xxx

If you thought Jayson was attractive in athleisure wear, he’s even more of a heart-throb in his usual streetwear, sporting a well-maintained leather jacket over a tank top and steel-toed boots. He greets you with a tiny bouquet that he fashions into a corsage for you, and then he takes you to an arcade with a beat-up facade but a lively interior. He tells you that his brother used to take him here when he was little more than a hatchling, and he’s happy to support a business that’s still thriving when it still has an active gaming community and good food.

He comes prepared with rolls of quarters and a competitive spirit, and you spent hours playing air hockey and head-to-head fighting games. He can barely squeeze into the seats for the racing games but that doesn’t stop him from laughing, and you laugh right along with him for what feels like forever. He takes no prisoners shooting hoops and you think your eyes would water if you gave the same focus he does to chasing down the ghosts in Mrs. Pac-Man, but after all the tickets are traded in, you get a giant stuffed gator—“My less attractive cousin,” says Jayson—and matching mood rings to commemorate the occasion. Putting them on feels like you’re having a shotgun wedding in Vegas somewhere, surrounded by neon lights and the wiggly 90’s patterns on the carpets.

You stash the gator in his truck and he takes you out to dinner at the mall, and you have to laugh when he balances curly fries on his snout like a carb-based moustache. Jayson seems to thrive when you’re laughing—he seems to magnify your energy and enjoys building you up as a result. You have some spare time before your movie date, so you go window shopping and try on all kinds of different outfits. You’re surprised to find that Jayson looks great sporting a cowboy hat, and you laugh when he pairs it with a set of pinstripe bell-bottoms in a pretty shade of lilac.

You lose track of time and have to scurry into the movie theatre like a pair of giggly teenagers, nearly spilling your drinks on your way up to the back of the darkened room where the bigger seats are. You spend most of the film trying not to be too obnoxious to the other film-goers, but you’re too into Jayson to focus on whatever action flick you both chose at the box office, and it’s clear that Jayson feels the same. You flick popcorn into his open mouth and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, tucking you as close as he can. The armrest between you gets frustrating for him, however, and it’s not long until you find yourself sitting on one of Jayson’s huge thighs.

You don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s murder for your tailbone; his muscles are hard as steel.

You whisper to him that you may as well have become that stuffed gator, so dearly does he hold you, but he whispers, “You’re easier on the eyes,” back to you in the dark. You spend the second half of the movie cuddling against his chest and playing with his big, thick hand, toying with the webbing between his fingers until he chuckles and tells you that it tickles him. His lap becomes much less uncomfortable as time goes on, and you realise with a flutter in your chest that Jayson’s nerves had led to tense muscles, and he’s relaxing around you as time goes on.

By the time you get back to his truck, the streetlamps have been lit for hours, and you’re both reluctant to stop touching. Soft pop music floats from the speakers when the engine turns over, and Jayson reaches over to turn it down even lower just to talk with you. He starts planning your next date with all the eagerness of a child at Christmas, and you’re not even the least bit offended by his presumptuousness; this date has been the best you’ve had in a long time—possibly ever. The chemistry is there, bubbling away below the surface as you hold hands at red lights.

When you get home, he walks you to the door of your apartment and squeezes your hands before you finally part, leaving you a butterfly-addled mess as you watch him drive away. He texts you when he gets home safely and you shoot messages back and forth late into the night until you fall asleep cuddling your new stuffed toy, cell phone in hand and a smile on your face. He texts you good morning the next day and asks if he can swing by to take you out for coffee, which you happily accept.

This begins a ritual of going on little mini-dates all throughout the week, and you start hanging out at each others’ apartments after you finish up at the office or Jayson at his studio, cooking each other meals and watching more movies. One night, you both fall asleep on your couch and by the time you wake, it’s the early morning hours, so you invite Jayson into your bedroom and let him sleep with you in your bed. You learn very quickly that Jayson is a massive cuddler, which would normally bother you through overheating except for the fact that Jayson is cool to the touch and a kleptotherm in his sleep. You find him as refreshing as the cool side of the pillow most nights he spends over, and it’s cute to watch him burrow under the covers for warmth.

You end up all but moving into his apartment, mostly for his comfort. His apartment is much bigger since he’s huge, and while you’ve never minded your little cubbyhole, you certainly welcome the change just to see him walk through doors without having to duck. You’re both still as tactile as ever, but it’s never gone further than a few heated kisses and heavy petting—something you’re determined to change tonight. You spend all day swinging wildly between knowing that everything will be fine and anxiety over the possibility of making an ass of yourself, but when the time comes, you feel an odd sense of calm.

“What’s all this?” Jayson asks when he gets out of the shower, eyeing the chair you’ve placed in the living room and meandering over to sit on it without so much as waiting for your response.

“A present,” you say, shrugging out of your bathrobe and exposing your form-fitting outfit. You’d spent the whole week worrying about what to wear, but you finally found something that made you look and feel the sexiest you’ve ever felt. You put on the music you’d been practising to and approach Jayson, who’s now looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Oh, yeah?” he prompts, reaching out towards your hips. You bat his hands away with a flirty smile—denying him his touch for the first time.

“Yeah,” you reply in a sultry purr, stroking down his bare chest before you step away and begin to dance. Jayson keeps his eyes on you in a way that he’s never done before, making heat pool low in your belly as you sway your hips and maneuver around his chair. You pepper little touches on his skin here and there as you go, pulling away before he can react or reach out to you. This seems to rankle and rouse Jayson as time goes on, making him twitch and fidget in his chair until you finally settle on his lap.

You are not expecting to sit directly on the mass straining against the crotch of his jeans.

“Jayson!” you laugh, and he laughs along with you, tension releasing from his body.

“What?” he chuckles, greedily stroking cool-hot lines along your back and sides. “Can’t blame a guy for getting excited. You plan this all for me?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, suddenly feeling shy. “We’ve been taking it slow. I figured it was time we got to know each other better.”

“Mm,” Jayson hums, looking you over from head to toe. “I like the lace.”

“I thought you might,” you say around a smile, snapping at the waistband of the lace panties you’d made sure peeked up over the waistband of your bottoms. You pull off the top half of your clothes so that you and Jayson are both shirtless, biting your lip as you stroke along the smooth scales of his chest. “Well? Take me to bed.”

“Yes, sir,” Jayson replies, hefting you up into his arms and tossing you over his shoulder to fireman carry you into the bedroom. There, he carefully deposits you onto the bed and strips out of his jeans, letting you get your first look at the pink, wet cock that’s slipped out of the slit in his body. It’s long and ribbed, thick at the base and tapered into a sharp point at the tip. You manage to give it a kiss before Jayson gently pushes you away, saying, “Not now, baby. I’m about to blow.”

“Already?” you blurt, surprised.

Jayson laughs. “That dance was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I wish I’d had a camera.”

You blush, huffing your amusement. “If you’d tried to record it, you’d be out on the couch by yourself right now.”

“Duly noted.” Jayson gestures toward the pillows. “Strip down and lie back. I wanna see what I’m working with.”

“Yes, sir,” you purr, playfully batting your lashes at the man before you do as he asks. You’d taken the liberty of setting out a small selection of lubricants and toys earlier while Jayson was in the shower—something he notices now.

“Gonna have to prep yourself,” he says apologetically, wiggling the clawed fingers on his hands.

You grimace, then shake your head, moving to grab one of your favourites from the nightstand. “I was planning on it.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” he asks, amused and impressed as he climbs up onto the bed to join you.

“Only obsessively for the past two weeks,” you casually reply, mirroring his grin before you get to work opening yourself for his viewing pleasure. Jayson watches you like a starved man watching through the window into a bakery, practically salivating at all of the treats he couldn’t get his hands on. As you work, squirming on your fingers and then toys, you notice a strange gurgling noise coming from Jayson, somewhere between a growl and a click. You stop mid-thrust when you realise what it is. “Are you purring?”

Jayson laughs, embarrassed. “Yeah,” he says, stroking along the insides of your thighs. “My kind does that when we want in.”

“That’s so fucking cute,” you reply around your delighted smile, urging Jayson down into your own brand of kisses. Lizardfolk don’t exactly have soft, pliable lips, but his long tongue delves deep into your mouth, tangling with yours and leaving you breathless. 

“I think that’s enough,” Jayson whispers after another long interim wherein you stretch yourself out, helping you pull the toy you were using out and stroking your skin before he lines himself up. “Ready?”

You nod, biting your lip as you watch him push inside you until your eyes roll back and you groan from deep in your chest. “Oh, fuck,” you murmur, scrabbling blindly and finding Jayson already reaching for you, fingers sliding between yours until you hit webbing. “Sunny.”

“I’m here,” Jayson murmurs back, voice soft and strained. “Gods, you’re a vice.”

You can only make a gurgling noise of your own as he slowly and carefully works his way in, relief flooding you both when he finally bottoms out. “Is it in?” you slur, giggling drunkenly at the endorphins rushing through you.

Jayson snorts sharply, startled into a guffaw. “Fuck you.”

“Thought we were doing that already.”

“Not yet,” says Jayson, chuckling softly. “Hold onto me.”

You barely have time to do as you’re bid before he’s jackhammering into you, pounding shout after shout of ecstasy from your throat as you cling to his muscles and the bedding. Jayson is a skilled lover, changing his tempo and how hard he fucks you until you’re all but speaking in tongues, toes curling and legs clinging around his waist as he plays your body like a fiddle. He knows exactly when and where to touch you after just one round, and after what feels like hours of marathon sex, you tap yourself out on his arm.

“Mercy,” you gasp, chest heaving and dick spent and resting on your belly in a puddle of your own cum.

“Already?” Jayson laughs around his own panting, relenting and cuddling down against your chest with a satisfied purr. “You need to work on your stamina.”

“Yeah, well, you need to—“ You break off into incoherent mumbles, seeing stars. It takes you a full minute of internal negotiations to get your arms to cooperate with you, and then you wrap them around Jayson’s shoulders, toes wiggling against your boyfriend’s thick, scaly tail.

“You look wrung out,” Jayson murmurs, looking apologetic.

“Thanks, hun.”

“No,” he snorts, embarrassed now. “I mean, I was going to offer to help you shower.”

“Ooh,” you coo, sighing wistfully as you consider your jelly legs and the distance to the bathroom. “Carry me?”

“I was planning on it,” Jayson laughs, carefully pulling out and cuddling you up against his chest before he makes his way out of the bedroom.

“Oh, yeah?” you mumble, nuzzling against his collarbones and sighing again. His skin feels so good against yours. “Well, I bet you weren’t planning on me falling in love with you.”

Jayson chuckles as he steps into the bathroom, turning on the shower with one hand. “No, but I was hoping you would.”

“Really?” You’re momentarily distracted by the warmth of the shower’s spray against your back when Jayson steps in with you, and you melt like putty against his chest.

“As much as I love you,” he murmurs into your ear, making your heart dance a giddy little merengue in your chest. You smile against his skin and bury your face against his neck, chuckling as a thought strikes you.

You were going to be useless at Latin night tomorrow.

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part Five (The Great Mini-series, Arranged Marriage AU)

A/N: Here it finally is!!!! Sorry it took forever, life happens.

Word Count: 4K

Summary: When the Emperor’s behavior gets your families alliance with Russia in danger, you agree to marry his best friend Grigor in order to make sure the alliance does not fall apart. You’re tossed into the Russian court and into the arms and bed of a Russian count, dodging his jealous ex lover, trying to survive the unpredictability.... but...what about yuou two? Are you and Grigor finally...feeling something for each other?

Warnings: Swearing, drunkeness, mentions of sex and nudity, marriage, and an in universe reference I couldn’t resist.

“Come here Sonya! Come here!” Lady Svenska cooed, wiggling her fingers.

The puppy trotted to her and she squealed in delight.

Tatiana bent her knees, her lime green dress bunching below her like icing on a cake as she did.

“Sonya! Sonya come!” she gestured.

With a happy trot, Sonya waddled over. She reached up, her tiny tail wagging.

“Oooo, good girl! Good girl!”

You had been invited to a tea party with the other ladies. Although you had gotten closer to the empress, you feared if they would see you as an enemy. Especially hearing of Catherine’s last tea party with them. So walking in, you brought your secret weapon. And it worked.

The only woman it seemed who was not having the time of her life with what was happening was Georgiana. Dressed in her purple gown and largest wig, she sat a little slumped on the couch. She was sipping her tea every now and then but crossing her arms. She stared daggers at the dog and how it trotted. She preferred any small circle that came over to obsess over the latest scandalous affair, but even then she kept one eye on Sonya as if the dog was a wolf ready to attack. She didn’t dare say a word to you. And you didn’t say a word to her. But if there was nothing said, then nothing bad could happen.

Smiling, you helped yourself to a red macaroon, delighting in the crunch and cream of it’s taste. Lady Svenska walked over to you and asked.

“Can she do tricks?” she questioned.

“Almost. She’s getting better at walking. She used to pull and run a lot, but she’s better at being obedient.”

“And she doesn’t tear things up?” she asked.

“Only sometimes. I have to watch where my dresses are stored,” you answered.

“Ah! She’s such a good dog! How lovely of you to bring her here, Madame Dymov!”

Georgiana’s eyes went dark.

“Will you come to our ball throwing this evening! It is most fun! Mine might go another inch!”

“I’d be delighted to! And be sure to tell me more about that maid with the baron old enough to be her grandfather too! And with copous details!” you added on.

“Oh! I do like you! And what of the Empress?”

“Well, we read. And we chat…”

“But all that reading!? Isn’t it time consuming!”

“A little. Her books can take time. I reread pages over and over…but in the best way. I suppose. It keeps her happy.”

“If you have any gossip about her, please share!”

“I..I, uh, will!” you promise.

“First of all, have you any plans or gifts to give her on her birthday, it’s coming up in about a month!”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” you mumbled.

At that moment your husband entered the room. He seemed a little uncomfortable with all of the flowers and pastel dresses, eyeing birds singing ditties in shiny cages and macaroons piled to his chest on platters.

“Oh, Y/N…where is Y/N?” he asked to one lady in a pink dress and grey wig.

She pointed in your direction and he smiled.

As he walked by, he passed the couch where Georgiana was sitting. Her shoe tapped his calf and he turned.

“Hello, Grigor…” she said with a faded grin.

“Hello, George,” he replied politely. Somehow, your blood felt hot. But yet, the marriage was over, so what if they even talked? He probably just enjoyed you talking with him and occasionally sleeping with him. But no, they had to be soulmates. And it was better not to disturb them. After all, despite the suddenness of the marriage, it would work. He would be happy.

“How is the party?” he asked, hands placed behind the back.

“Going perfect. We’re being introduced to the loud, hairy creature that lifts her leg when she pisses. Her dog is there too.” She quipped with a surprisingly relieved smile.

You froze. Little Sonya recognized Grigor and ran up to him, oblivious to how white his face was turning. A few fans were spread, and you barely heard feminine whispers of “…quite bitchy…” It got a little quiet. Even with the string quartet in the back was playing at a piano as if they wanted to hear what would happen next to.

Getting up, you turned around to leave them alone. Let them take it out. Let him laugh, Let her smile. Maybe even fuck against the wall like you noticed the odd couple doing on a night of reveling in the palace, no matter who might see or hear.

“George. I can’t control what you do on your own. But when you are with me, you will not speak about my wife in that matter.”

Pausing, you turned around. A couple quiet tears fell down your cheeks.

“You’re an esteemed lady of the court with the world at your fingertips. She’s a poor creature thrown into an arranged marriage, stolen from another country, and little to never to see any of her family or friends again while you just lay down and let Peter put fruit in your pussy and drink champagne.”

Wiping away tears with your hands, you stood still, not sure what to say. Grigor continued, truly angered and passionate.

“I didn’t marry her because of you. And she didn’t marry me so she could have my cock when you couldn’t. I did this so that we all- we all-“ he gestured to the people in the room “won’t be fucking ripped apart by Swede’s in a fortnight thanks to her families army. You will show her what little compassion you have in your tiny heart. You could even show her an ounce of gratitude for the sacrifice she and I made for the safety of everyone here, including yours. Or else I could have said no and let the swedes stab you in your tits when you’re asleep in the emperor’s bed. And I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it too. But I did.”

She froze. There was even a couple of gasps.

Scooping the tiny dog in his arms, he turned ot you promptly.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I…I am…” you answered. “But I’m tired, let’s go home and play cards.”

“I agree.”

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

 A week later, Grigor had partied so much with the Emperor last night, wrestling and playing with some man named Leon or whoever. You peaked in the door, and yawning, retired to your own apartments to sleep even if alone.

Waking up briefly in the grey air, you felt him crawling into bed at four in the morning. So you let him sleep in as you took Sonya on her morning walk. Besides, she would pout and whine if you didn’t walk at her certain time.

“Here you go, I know, Papa can’t be there-but I will,” you assured the dog.

You made your way through the halls into the gardens. Sonya was already getting bigger. The collar and leash made for her a while ago was getting snug on her fluffy body.

Enjoying the forest, you heard the rhythmic crunch of the leaves and sticks beneath Sonya’s prancing paws. The cold air stung your lungs in the best way. The sky looked clear and crisp.

Sonya pointed her snout in one direction. She began pulling and barking.

“What is it? Some sort of creature!” you thought, walking forward.

It wasn’t a mouse of squirrel, there was a person slumped against a tree, sitting on the dirt. Walking closer, you made out a dark green skirt and a hat, but a head of dark, curly hair made loose. She reeked of vodka and beer. Her face was pale to where she seemed ill, rather than the lovely cream color of her skin. And beneath her eyes there were several bags.

“G..Georgiana…”

She turned her head to you, squinting.

“Yes…” she grunted.

“What are you doing here?”

She began to laugh a little, bitterly.

“I could ask the same…what are you doing here?”

“I’m walking Sonya…she needs to be exercised so she won’t get into trouble from being bored,” you explained, gripping the leash.

“Huh, I know sometimes…sometimes Grigor goes with you…” her voice was deep and throaty, far from her usual speaking tone. As if every word was choked up.

She seemed so pitiful you didn’t have the heart to chafe her.

“Yes, yes he does…”

Her exhausted eyes wandered forward into the grove of trees. She kept speaking to you.

“Sometimes we’d walk together. Only if it was nice. We did everything together. Walking. Eating. Dancing. Bathing together. Did you know…I even got my portrait painted and he kept it in his room! Right next to his bed…he…he cared for me so much to where I was right there with him every morning even when I wasn’t next to him and now…now he hates me…”

She began to sniffle, and a few tears worked up.

“No. No, I don’t think he hates you at all…”

“Why did he speak to me that way?”

“He just…he got emotional. And he has been emotional because he loves you. He’s every bit as sad as you are for not marrying…”

Sonya walked over to the crying woman. Alerted by the sounds, she walked over and sniffed at her wet face. She broke out  a smile.

“But the truth is…in this court, there’s plenty of women who’ve fucked Peter. More than half. That’s just a fact of life. But I… I love it. I love having men want me, being worshipped, loved, is that wrong?”

“It’s normal,” you admitted. “it’s normal to want to be loved.”

“And the things it gives you. It’s not the least bad. I have all sorts of things. Dresses. Hats. A high position in court. Security. Comfort. Occasionally I can change laws and save lives with just a word-imagine that! And jewels. Jewels I used to dream of having. And I get to enjoy making love to a man who’s skilled at it. It might be the only way for a woman here to move up. That’s the way it is, is that wrong? Is it wrong to enjoy fucking and love a man too? For them to be separate men? They do it all the time and no one bats an eye bit when I do…”

She finally fell down into sobs.

“And he just...he couldn’t accept it. He claimed he loved me, and I… I love him, I still do, he just couldn’t accept me as I am and this world as it is…I thought he knew me…and that I knew him…”

She began to cry more; Sonya reached over and began to lick her face. She laughed at the ridiculous feeling of a dog’s tongue right on your nose and you began to laugh too.

“Georgiana…I’m so sorry I yelled at you that first day…I saw you as a threat and didn’t stop to think what you would feel. How I would feel if I was in your shoes…”

“Ugh, you’re…you’re as saccharine as…as…I don’t even know, Y/N. I’d put you in my…my mouth and my blood would rush, and they’d have to let it out with slugs.”

Taking out a handkerchief, you began to wipe her tears from her face.

“I’m not the one in tears…but…he used to keep a portrait of you…” you questioned.

“He did…is it there? Maybe….”

“Not anymore…” you explained flatly.

So that explained the circular area on the wall next to the bed.

“I know you really do love Grigor. And you care for him…but loving someone is hard. I love my family and friends back home, or unless I wanted to make all of them suffer or even get killed, I had to let them go to come here…sometimes, there are things you have to let go and move on from…” you assured her. You aren’t a bad person for wanting those things. You’re a smart person for figuring out how to get them. I admire you for it.”

“I just keep wondering…I keep wondering what would happen if he said yes…if he agreed to the terms…we’d be so happy…”

And he would see you with Peter and be miserable. Then god knows what would happen you thought.

You took her arm and helped her to her shaky legs.

“But there’s no use in that. Here, let’s get you back to the palace. I think after you get some water and some sleep, you might feel better…”

“But Y/N, Grigor I think…he’s in denial how Peter works here. If a woman needs anything in court, and if Peter picks you…he picks you. And, well, there’s nothing you can do about it…”

Your stomach lurched.

    “Grigor might want a faithful wife. He might’ve thought he got that with you but…defying the Emperor is a risk. Too huge. Why say no? After all, he’s a genius at fucking so it could be worse…”

“You need water, Georgiana. And you need to clean up. Then you’ll feel better…” you interrupted, trying to mother her away and ignoring the fear in your gut.

 But as you were strolling later in the week, returning from another one of the Empresses’s private discussions, you saw a few ladies eye down at the book. Perhaps they judged you. Perhaps they were jealous. But one bespecaled face saw you, smiled, and then hurried up.

“Orlo! How are you?”

“Y/N-er-Madame Dymov! Enough about me already- I heard the Empress gave you a copy of the Rousseau! What do you think!?” he asked excitedly.

His dark eyes glittered at the book in your hands. Holding it up to him you let him inspect it.

“I was…I was shocked at first. His ideas felt like…like a blast of cold wind. But I…he made good points. And I found myself agreeing after some time…” you explained with a shrug.

“He’s one of my favorites, and tehre’s so much…so much inside there. But I…I wish I could explain it all…”

“Let’s go to my place, I’ll call for a plate...” you offered with a shrug and a smile.

Introducing him to the drawing room, he settled down shyly on the seat in front of the fire. You brought in some tea with a strawberry cake and wound up talking for a straight hour. He got his own turn to pet on little Sonya as she licked his fingers from the cake crumbs. You discussed Rousseau, then he went on to talk about Voltaire, Plato, Paine. Ideas stretched you and you found yourself talking about things you could never imagine debating about with anyone. About people. Power. Faith. Life. Death. Purpose, if there was one at all. Your cup became cold and you had to reheat it by pouring some liquid into it.

Orlo glowed as he explained it all. He was not condescending. In fact, it felt like being in school with  a good teacher. You understood and appreciated it even more. You were amazed with the depth of knowledge he had. Beneath his mousy exterior, there was a brilliant mind. Perhaps even genius. You were amazed in him. Strands of his hair loosened out and he smiled more, seeming relaxed and confident. Far more confident than you ever knew him to be in public.

“But out of all of them, I think my favorite is…”

The door creaked as it opened.

His head turned and you saw Grigor walking in. His face was pink, and his eyebrows crossed.

“Hello Orlo, what are you doing with my wife?” he asked, his lips tight and his voice firm.

“I, uh…” he found himself blubbering. His posture slouched and his hands retreated.

Standing at once, you walked up to Grigor with as much poise as you could.

“The empress gifted me with a book and Orlo was asking me about it over tea, nothing more…” you explained plainly.

“It’s fascinating. Isn’t it!” you added, throwing back a look.

Orlo nodded shyly, getting out of the seat like it had spikes.

“Very.”

“Oh, alright…” Grigor replied quietly.

Once Orlo thanked you for hosting him and shuffled out, Grigor’s eyes never left his steps.

 He was quiet over dinner. You had to ask questions about his day and have Sonya’s begging fill the silence. Later, you changed into your nightgown to see Grigor was already in bed.

You saw him curl up to the other side. Not turning around, holding the blanket over his shoulders and leaving your side disproportionally cold.

With a huff, you placed your hands on your hips.

“What is it?” You had a guess, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong” he said in a tone that said something was definitely wrong.

“What is it…tell me…” you wheedled, sitting on the bed and leaning closer to him.

He turned around.

“I understand we agreed to follow orders to marry. Not for us. Our countries, the safety of your family and for their workers and tenets to not go hungry, for protection, the alliance, and for Russia to succeed against the Swedes… but I know you didn’t choose to marry me…if you…if you…are in love… then I guess it would make it easier…but you will at least be honest with me and not play around when you fall in love with some man!”

“In love? With Orlo?!” you added.

His head snapped back at the sound of his name.

“If you love the prick, then that’s fine! It will make you bear being here better- it’s all fine!” He if it will make you bear this, bear being married to me…”

“I’m not in love with Orlo!” you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched a little, but didn’t turn away.

“What…you aren’t? Both of you always talk together.”

 “I always talk with the empress, and Tatyana and everyone else too. They’re my friends. He’s my friend as well… and…I…I promised you I won’t hurt you. That I will do my best not to hurt you…and you’re obviously hurt…” you reasoned.

The clock chimed the hour in the back.

“I…yes, I was…I had memories of when…you know…” he muttered out, looking down.

You folded your arms and turned away from him.

“Well, have you ever kissed Georgiana since our marriage? I guess you can run back to her, like I’m apparently running to Orlo. Should I be worried about her?”

“Uh-no! Not at all! We’ve barely talked since the betrothal! I talk more to Sonya than I do to her in a fortnight!” he said, pointing to the dog curled asleep on her pillow.

You crossed your arms and started to laugh a little. A smile cracked on his thin face as well.

“If I have no reason to suspect you of anything with George, you have no reason to suspect anything of me and Orlo!” you reasoned with a shrug.

Leaning forward, you pulled more of the cover to your side. He relented.

 Both of you were tense. Words left your voice.

“Just dinner and drinks with your friend, nothing more. Perfectly normal.” You assured.

Even if it meant eating in his chambers with large portraits all over the wall and a big green bed on the other side. Peter stood up and greeted you both. His arms were wide, pearls dangling from his neck.

“Ah, hello! Join me!” Peter cheered. “Grigor-make yourself at home! There’s already some food.

You carefully walked in, placing yourself on the couch and folded your hands in front of your lap. Unsure of what to do or say. A finger nudged you.

“Here, Y/N…here’s the seat for you!” your husband said, taking his large hands around your waist and picking you up as you let out a smile.

Grigor placed you on his lap, like he did on your wedding. Smiling, you accepted the feeling of him nearby and settled your weight. The closeness far more natural than ever. Grigor’s arms were warm as they passed dishes around from one man to the Emperor. A serf poured a Kiev vdoka and you enjoyed yourselves.

“I tell you- fucked a horse! It’s just a rumor-but can you believe it!” he said.

Laughing in spite of yourself, you shook your head insisting “no, I don’t!”

Smiling. Laughing. Everything felt normal. You laughed so hard you almost snorted your drinkand covered your mouth, laughing more at the dirtier humor. Years ago, your mother would have become so uncomfortable at such words she would excuse herself and complain about it later. Laughs held back were finally released, you jaw uhrt and your cheeks felt hot.

“And that’s what hapoens when you use the duck whistle on the balcony-“Oh, Grigor! Have I fucked your wife yet?”

The drink you were sipping almost spat out of your mouth and you coughed it out. Both of you froze again. You felt Grigor tense up. His breath quickened. His face turned white and then red and then white again. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Turning your head back, you began to give a charming smile at the emperor, even giving the little half smile you noticed to do. You decided if the subject came up, you would be prepared.

“Your highness, of yes, of course we’ve fucked. Several times!” you said.

Where he couldn’t see, you kicked Grigor’s leg to alert him.

“Oh, really!” he said.

“Ah! What a Casanova you are, Emperor! Losing track! But…”

You circled the rim of your glass, and then added on.

“I have an eternally dry pussy, can’t suck cock to save my life, and an ass so tight that deflects any object near the hole so it’s been rather disappointing. It’s a miracle my husband tolerates me. He’s hardly been able to finish the job!”

He tilted his head, pondering it with a hmmmm. Glancing at Grigor, you quickly mouthed “play along.” His eyes bright, he nodded at you, and then to the Emperor in agreement.

“Yes! Fucking Y/N is a total disappointment. Remember her place? They’re boring, plain people even when fucking.”

Peter nodded in agreement, his eyes up to the sky as if thinking about the fake experience. Not that it was to think.

“Humph. I…I think you’re right. It was disappointing. Grigor, if you need me to order you a whore, let me know.”

You kept your hand on his and you saw his eyes dart in confusion and realization, his brain thinking a hundred thoughts.

“Please pour me another drink…” you said, holding your cup to a serf.

“Besdies, Catherine…she’s been having all these ideas about art. And I saw a portrait and I…I cried! I fucking cried-can you believe it? I never knew she could..could even make me feel like that!”

 As you left the chambers, you squeezed his hand. Both of you let out a breath and continued some nervous laughter until you were both home.

“That was brilliant!” He praised, sinking in relief in the chair. There was already a fire crackling, drawing warmth into the chilly room.

“I knew he would bring it up, soon. So, I might as well. Now you don’t have to worry about anything…at least for now…” you said with a shrug.

“Oh, but the party tomorrow…you’ll be careful. I think people will be very merry and he might…get carried away…”

“Just give him a galloon a vodka then, he’ll won’t be able to stand.”

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

As the party the next night raged on, it struck you that it was Grigor who was well on his way to drinking a gallon of vodka. The rooms glowed yellow orange with all of the candles. Stringed guitars played out dancing tunes with throaty Russian lyrics where although the words were hard to understand, you had to tap your toes. Women walked by with snakes draped over their necks and you stared in frightened awe at the creature, as if in Eden. Your own gown was a pale pink with bows on the stomacher, a ruffled skirt beneath the first one, and you hair done up in flowers and feathers. You even agreed to wear a beauty mark of a small dog on your cheek. Girgor himself had a grey wig and his finest, deep green suit. He eyed plates of vodka, reaching for two small glasses and downing them…and supper would be served in an hour.

You noticed and Empress and Emperor dancing. She swished her pale pink skirt and he twirled in a black skirt, carefree. It was almost like watching a fight, how they were both powerful yet matched each other.”

“Come on, you sad bastards!? Why aren’t you dancing!? Dance! I command you!” Peter cried out in joy.

“Y/N! Y/N- we haven’t danced too much-let’s dance! Dance with me!” Grigor insisted, pulling you further down.

“Grigor, that’s the vodka talking!”

The musicians were warming up for the next piece in the corner.

“I…I don’t know the…” you mumbled in a panic as other couples filled the floor.

“Oh no-just follow me!” He said with a big smile and his face flushed.

  Still you ran out with him, mimicking hand movements and your feet trying to keep up with the steps. If you felt him leading you somewhere, you followed. If you sepearted in lines, you kept an eye on him.

“Girgor…do the trick! The trick!” Peter insisted, running up in the middle.

Eyes wide, you saw your husband grab hold of your body.

“Here. Y/N! I can do it- hold on! Jump up.

He lifted you up in his arms and twirled you up, his arms adjusting to hold you up so that he held you up by your legs, your stomach to his face. You could hear him muffling beneath your clothes.

“We need smof practif…”

But Peter laughed and you heard loud applauding as faces turned to look at you. Even George’s own face had a smile, albeit a sad one.

He set you down.

“Let’s try it again, put your leg on my shoulder…now your other leg..ooof! Now, this one is better!”

He lifted you up so high, you realized you were on his shoulders, and emabarrasingly his head was near your crotch. The court applauhded and laughed and huzzahed. It was so fun you almost forgot your fear of being dropped. you laughed as you held onto his shoulders for deaer life, thrilled to see everyone smaller before you. As if they dhrunk or you became a giant. The chandeliers dripping with diamonds were easy to your touch, your fingertips grazed one as Grigor walked in a circle.

“Ha! I knew you could do it good chap!” Peter applauded before asking.

Grigor placed you down with a smile, he placed his hands on your cheeks and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, then his eyes wandered to some vodka and he took another shot.

 He was singing as the party ended late in the night. You struggled to support him over your shoulders.

“Grigor…be careful…”

Once you got into the room, Sonya woke up from her nap and barked, jumping at your feet. Staggering, you brought him to your bedchambers.

“Let’s get your clothes off…” you said, pulling his coat off and placing it on the floor.

“You wish to see me naked, you could’ve asked, darling…”

Sighing, you poured the hot water into the golden tub.

“If you don’t bathe, then you’re sleeping with Sonya…”

He leaned down in his shift and breeches to the wagging tail beneath him.

“Oh….hello doggie, cute doggie…good doggie…”

“To bath, Grigor!”

Eventually, you got him to bathe enough to where he didn’t reek of alcohol. Once he dried off, you pushed his breeches onto him.

“None of that tonight with you drunk off your head!”

“Can’t I at least kiss you?” he complained childishly.

“Fine, but it stops at kissing!”

Once you finally settled within your own sheets, legs and feet sore from dancing, you barely put the blankets over you when  you felt two large arms wrap themselves around you and hug you tight, pulling you close. He laughed a bit before kissing you on top of your head. You smirked and let him obloge. Then you felt him relax.

“Y/N, I love you….”

You froze solid, your stomach dropping.

“What?”

He took a hand and placed it on your cheek again, before it sloppily fell down.

“Y/N, my sweet angel…I love you…”

Shaking your head, you pulled the covers above you both.

“That’s the vodka talking, now go to sleep….”

He went back to holding you, turning you so that your back was turned to him, you felt and smelt his breath as he kept speaking.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m falling in love with you this minute and…I’m fucking terrified…”

You let his arms settle.

“Don’t wanna…get hurt, get shat on…but every day I’m….falling more in love with you…and it makes me both so happy and scared I could fucking scream…that was why Orlo fucking scared me, and Peter, that wonderful, bastard. I love him, but if he lays a hand on you, I swear to god…”

“Grigor…you need to sleep. You’re drunk. Only time will wear it off.”

Besides, it was better to not get your hopes up.

‘I can’t believe I’m fucking falling in fucking love all over again…never thought after George that I would….never would let myself…thought ”

“But Grigor…you….”

“I’d like to see you…see you happy. See your smiling face before I sleep.”

You gave him a small smile and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Grigor…do you…do you love me….do you really love me…”

You gave him a small smile. He then rolled on his belly, spread like a starfish. He was snoring deeply in minutes.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you too…” you wanted to say.

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[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Hi! Can you do let's fall in love for the night by FINNEAS with calum? Specifically the lyric "you won't stay with me I know but you can have your way with me until you go" and can the reader be that one saying or feeling that lyric? Thanks and sorry to bother, love your work!

Thanks for your suggestion and much gratitude for you patience. 

Please stay safe during these uncertain times. Drop a sweet message to your favorite blogger. Reblog your favorite fic. Recommend a fic to me if you want! We need to spread some joy.

If you feel so inclined, here’s my Ko-fi. But please know that I am making this content because I want to help you all through these times. 

Enjoy my masterlist!

Feel free to send me a song + a boy or small blurb request. 

_____________________________

Let’s Fall

Everyone told you not to fall for Calum. Everyone told you that he was sweet and he was thoughtful but that was something he extended to everyone. You had witnessed it with your own two eyes, helping someone get a box off the high shelf in the grocery store, stopping for the gaggle of kids crossing a good foot from the crosswalk. He bought lemonade for a kid’s stand at the end of the block once. The man oozed a softness that could melt anyone’s heart. 

But he couldn’t melt his own. And not for a lack of trying. Not for a lack of wanting love. But situations just never worked out. It seemed like with touring and his own lack of communicating sometimes, things kind of fell apart. 

it’s a dangerous game. To play with your own heart. But you are playing it, at bat with all bases loaded. Whenever Calum calls, even if it’s just to have someone else’s voice and life and even problem fill his own head instead of the bullshit he usually spiraled down, you pour your heart out. If Calum mentions doing even the most mundane things, grocery shopping, taking Duke to the vet, you ask to tag along. 

Tonight’s no different of a game. Calum’s sick of the four walls of his house, so he asks if he can crash at yours. “My apartment is tiny and you have a whole ass house.”

“I just wanna hang out for a little while. Maybe take a stroll around your block.”

You want not to flutter and squeeze at the thought of watching the setting sun in front of you guys as you wander down the block, watching birds fly overhead. Praying to the heavens none of them take your hair as a place to shit. But still enjoying the cooling breeze and possibly stopping at the convenient store not too far out of the way to stock up on cheap fruity wine and all the snacks that are no good for either of you.

But you swallow down the dream. “I don’t want you have to jostle around bringing Duke along and everything. I can just come by your place.”

“Nah, it’s not that much of a hassle. Please? I’m so bored,” he whines. And you can almost imagine him reclining into his couch with Duke in his lap. His head resting into the cushions and he’s grinning just a little knowing that soon you are going to crack. 

“Really, Calum. I can just come to you.”

“What part of me asking if I can come over to your place do you not understand?”

“Alright, smart ass,” you huff. 

“I’ll be there in 25,” he returns. 

The call ends and you’re left blinking at your phone, staring at your call list where you’re call with Calum now rests. “That wasn’t a yes,” you sigh but clean off your sofa, vacuum quickly and straighten out the kitchen table.  

When Calum turns up at your place, with a backpack, Duke on his leash and a few extra bags hiked up onto his shoulder you know immediately that it’s not just a few hour thing. But you say nothing. You let him inside and turn your attention to Duke. “Your pops is a very stubborn man, you know?”

“Oh but you love me,” he hollers as he treks down the hallway to the bedroom. 

You roll your eyes though your throat quivers. You had hoped it wasn’t obvious. You tried to tell yourself you weren’t falling. You were holding onto the edges of hope, hoping it wouldn’t push you over the edge. But it seemed it would. He returns, a baseball cap on his head. 

“Let’s go for a walk, yeah?”

“Wine and snacks?”

“Of course.” You take Duke’s leash and your keys. The sun’s hasn’t quite started to set. The hint of spring and summer allowing you more light for longer. A few neighborhood kids are laughing into the skies, a group. And for a moment it reminds you of your younger years. When after school, you hung out in groups and even if you had no money or knew you had to be studying for a test, it was a lot more fun to linger outside and laugh over some video, or story that was being shared. 

It reminds of when feelings and crushes were the biggest thing in the world and when Duke pauses to sniff out the base of a bush, you glance up to Calum. The cut of his jaw can’t be hidden by any hat, and you nearly gave. You nearly give in and stroke the scruff that’s not quite a beard. 

Now love feels like a gamble. This person could break your heart. This person could crush you. And it won’t ever be permanent. You won’t be permanently hurt. But the time frame for healing doesn’t make anyone want to jump head first into heartache. The other side of that gamble is that they could be the perfect person, they could be the person to restore your heart. 

But do you take that gamble with Calum?

And it’s not until after toting Duke around the convenient store and pointing out the bottle of wine you’re going to split and the snacks that will be shared begrudgingly and you’re laying on the floor in your living room with the TV playing whatever programming is set by the station that you’re giggling at the feeling of Duke’s snout sniffing at your face, that you think to yourself this is something you could get used too.

You haven’t had much of the wine and neither has Calum. A less than a third of it still rests inside the glass bottle and your glasses sit empty next to it on the coffee table. Your head is resting right next to Calum’s, but you’re feet point towards the fan and his feet are pointed down almost towards the hallway. You can feel the heat radiating off his cheeks, hearing the exhales.

“I want a garden.” The thought cross his lips so quietly that you don’t think you catch it. “Mum always wanted one and like, I don’t have a green thumb for shit, but I want her to smile when I hand her a bouquet of the flowers in my own garden.”

“Forget-me-nots are pretty,” you say, helping Duke up onto your stomach and he settles his head right under your sternum.

“I’ll plant you some. A whole corner.”

“That’s too much for me.”

He scoffs. “No, it’s not. You deserve more than a corner if I’m honest.”

While your fingers stop their work in Duke’s fur, you turn your head to look at him. He’s staring up at the ceiling. “That’s the wine talking,” you laugh. But when he turns to look at you, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours and you see the pulled down brow, you know it might be more serious than you estimated.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” The smell of the strawberry whine fills the space between the two of you. 

“Why do you always reject me?”

“I’m not rejecting you, Calum.”

“You didn’t want me to come over.”

“I didn’t want you having to uproot everything especially with Duke. I was offering to come over to you,” you correct. 

“You don’t want me to plant you flowers,” he continues on like you haven’t just spoken. 

“I only said I didn’t need a whole corner in a garden.”

“I like you but you keep acting like you’re not good enough or something. Like you’re waiting for me to go find someone else.”

Your ears are not hearing this. You’re sure that you’re hallucinating. All you can do is blink, mouth slightly agape. Calum could never like you like that. You weren’t even supposed to be in this game at all. You were supposed to just be friends. “Are you going to like me in the morning? Are you going to like when there’s no wine in your system? Are you going to like me when you wake up to my morning breathe?”

“Yes.”

It’s such a simple answer. Three letters. One syllable. One fucking word but you’re not sure if you can fall. “You’ll leave before morning,” you start, turning and looking back up at your ceiling. And with a thick swallow, your throat starting to close up on you because you want to believe, you want to give into the words but you know it’s Calum. The man who’s sweet to everyone. You’re no one special. 

“I won’t.” Calum reaches across, just to trace the side of your face. 

You should be cursing yourself for turning into it, rooting into his palm. “Want to know the crazy thing?”

Calum pushes up. It’s with a small grunt and he spins on his bottom to face you, one leg tucked up the other resting extended behind your head. “I’m down for crazy.”

“You could have whatever you wanted. And I know if it were just for a night, that would be fine by me. Like literally whatever you wanted from me, I think I could give it up in a heartbeat. No questions asked. And it just hurts, it could only be for a night.”

Calum’s careful as he collects Duke and settles the old man onto his lap. HIs fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you up. Now you’re sitting cross legged in front of him and he’s staring at you. His big brown eyes look so earnest across your face. “I don’t want just a night with you.”

“Then what? What do you want?”

His smile is soft and his palms are warm against your cheeks. “All of it. All of you. For as long as you’ll have me. I wanna call you mine.”

Hope, you think, wasn’t pushing you to your demise. The first tear stings and then slips down your cheek. “Okay, like I know wine makes me emotional but I swear not this bad.”

He laughs, a soft exhalation. His palms press down a little and you know your cheeks give to the pressure. “Can I kiss you?”

“Hmm-mhm,” you hum unable to nod in his grasps. The first one is soft, barely a kiss and you’re still registering the way his lips fit against yours before he’s kissing you again. And then a third time.

-H

[whistlemist]

Tiny Tim Missing

Bruce walked into the cave carrying a small boy in his arms. The tiny kid was wrapped up in his cape looking like he was over the moon. The big baby blue eyes were glued to Batman’s face as little hands kept touching his cheeks and chin as if trying to make sure they were real.

Damian was close behind not looking pleased with whatever happened. The scowl was clear he was in bad mood. He walked by everyone without even Acknowledge that they were there. Both the older two had been using the bat computer to hunt down a lead when they heard them come back.

Dick tensed up seeing the kid. “Who’s the kid?”

“Another one? Isn’t that one a little on the young side?” Jason said walking over to look at the kid. He frowned looking him over. “Wait- is that Tim?!”

“Timmy?!” Dick came over to look, the boy looked at them for a split second before going back to touching Batman’s face. “Oh my god, what happened?!”

“Dick, we’re right here. Don’t shout,” Pushing the cowl back he sighed as little hands started to touch his forehead and ears. “Tim got hit by a spell.”

“I’m surprised that Tim didn’t dodge it,” Jason crossed his arms.

“Damian pushed him in the way of the spell, which is why Robin is benched for a while.” Bruce tried to hand Tim over to Dick but the boy latched onto him, little hands grabbing onto his hair. “Hey, easy, Tim… I need to go get changed alright?”

“He has no memories?” Dick asked trying to slowly take his little brother. He was a bit excited to be able to hold a kid version of Tim. “Come on, Timmy, do you want a snack? Some juice?”

“You’re going to steal Damian’s snacks and juice? That’s not gonna go over well.” Jason frowned.

“They're my snacks and  juice.”

“...” Jason looked at Dick for a long time “Your such a f*cking child.”

“Not in front of Tim!” Dick gasped covering the boy’s ears. “Jason, how cold you?!”

“Both you stop,” Bruce grunted as he managed to remove Tim’s hands from his hair before handing the boy over to Dick. “Tim’s about five right now, keep an eye on him, don’t lose him, no cussing, feed him until I can figure out how to fix this.”

“You got it, boss.”

-- “Tim where are you!? COME OUT PLEASE!”

“I can’t believe you lost him!” Jason snapped at him throwing a water bottle even though he knew it would do nothing. “I left you alone for two minutes!”

“I was answering a call! I didn’t think that Tim would wander off!” Dick pointed to the old high chair they had drug out of the attic and had put their brother in, hell, TIm was small enough to fit but the second Dick had turned around the kid had vanished. “Come on, Jay we need to find him!”

They ran out of the kitchen calling Tim's name loudly.

“Timmy?” Dick called looking under a couch. “Tim?! Come out, Tim, please!”

“Come out you brat!” Jason yelled opening doors looking around for any sign of the child. He closed one door when they head a thud upstairs. “That doesn't sound good.”  

“Come on, Jay!” Running up the stairs they found a coat rack knocked out, but no Tim. Slowing down Dick looked around trying to figure where he would have gone. Opening a room Dick peeked inside. Walking in the two of them started to look under the bed, in the closed, the bathroom just in case.

They were so into looking for Tim, they hadn’t noticed the small boy wiggled out of the coats before walking off down the hall.

--

Damian was in the middle of his homework when the door slammed open with Todd yelling. “WHAT DID YOU DO WITH  HIM DEMON CHILD?!”

“What the hell, Todd?!” Jumping up Damian took out one of his hidden swords. “You want to die again?!”

“Tell me where he is or I’ll shoot your ass, Damian!”

“Try it and I’ll slit your throat.”

“Jason, stop it!” Dick came in getting between the two of them to keep the bloodshed away. “Listen, we lost, Tim. Have you’ve seen him?”

“We?!” Jason snapped. “Your fatass lost him!”  

“Why would I care where Drake is?” Came to the growl as Damian moved back if only not to nick Grayson’s hand by accident. “Why do you not just call his phone?”

“Oh, right,” Dick paused. “You don’t know do you?”

--

“You know I thought he was going to have this sudden big brother urge to just go look and save  his now little brother.”

Jason gave Dick a long side look as he took out a cigarette while looking for his lighter. “Yeah, sure, keep thinking that’s what could have happened. It’s f*cking Damian, Dickhead.”

“Hey, I had hope.” Sighing he looked back at the door where had just kicked them out of before looking back at Jason. “Hey, you better not lite that in here or Alfred would have  your head.”

Jason paused before grumbling. Standing he shook his head. “I’m gonna go to the roof, have a smoke. Call me if you find the kid. I’ll be back.”

--

Meanwhile roaming the halls of Wayne Manor Tim was looking up at the many paintings that lined the halls. They are so high up that when he stood in front of way he would stumble back a little bit straining his head back to see it all.

There was one that Tim found that seemed to fill a whole wall by itself. Old, with small cracks in it with the paint seeming to peel very slightly.  Titling his head Tim looked at it for a minute before hearing a noise off the right of him.  

Looking over with big eyes Tim saw a large hound there. It was taller walking over in almost practiced air of demand. It looked him over nostrils flared as it sniffed his head causing the small boy to giggle as the wet nose took in the scent.

Moving back Ace’s tail wagged a bit before licking the tiny face.

“Puppy,” Tim giggled little hands moving to pet the long snout. “Hi… what's your name?”

The dog gave a gruff before moving to take the sleeve of Tim’s arms starting to leave the human pup back to where the humans where. It was easy enough to move the young master, who for some reason was now so tiny, back towards the most used floors of the Manor.

--

Walking around Cassandra was back early from patrol. SHe had been having some flashbacks. After rounding up some criminals she had gone back to take her anxiety meds. After that walking around to help out when she paused seeing Ace walk passed her with a small boy.

“...?” She turned around watching before following behind them silent wondering when they got other family members. After all, she had learned that sometimes they would just get siblings. This was really young though. Maybe he was lost? That’s why they were in the Manor? “...”

Looking back Tim waved with a bit of shyness. The lady didn’t seem to talk but she followed them eyes trained on the new kid. A few times Tim tried to tug his sleeve away from the dog but the hound just didn’t let go until they got to a living room.

Walking in after his sleeve was a bit wet from the dog’s mouth. Going over to the couch Tim sat on it smiling at Cassandra. “Hi… I’m Tim,”

Eyes going wide for a second Cassandra looked up in thought going through all the possibility of being her brothers, the looks, the face structure, the insane things that often happened to them. Figuring that this was her brother she went over picking him up from under the arms looking at him closely before sitting down hugging him.

“Hi,” Tim repeated the phrase again not sure what else to do since she had talked to him. The hug was nice though and he hugged her back. “What’s your name?”

“Cassandra. Cass.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Tim reached for her hand holding it with both of his shaking the hand a little as if he was trying to remember how to shake a hand. “I’m Tim Drake,”

Nodding Cass looked him over making sure that he wasn’t hurt before taking out her phone asking Bruce he knew. Once she got his message she asked if it was alright if she could take Tim out for ice cream. Once given permission She found a large coat to wrap both of them up before leaving the Manor to an ice cream shop that was her favorite.

--

“Tim, please, I’ll give you all the coffee you want!” Dick cried using a megaphone trying a last attempt to get the third Robin to come out of his hiding spot. “Please, Tim, I’ll even let you use my Wing bike just come out!”

“Bruce is gonna kill us!” Jason was pacing back and forth as he ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve looked in every single room in the f*cking house! He must have gotten… Shit! Dick, outside!”

“There’s a river out there!” Dick screamed running outside as the two of them ran towards the back of the yard. It was pretty far off a good three minute run for them at full speed, but there was a small river there that ran through all the wealthy home’s backyard or side yards and it didn’t have a fence. “Hurry up, I’ll go left, you go right.”

“Call me if you see him!”

--

Bruce was enjoying the pictures that Cass was sending him. A fond smile as he got a few of Tim eating an ice cream cone, one of the little boy holding a batman plushy, a few times he noticed that the clothes started to change. From the looks of it Cassandra getting anything Batman related. If he had to guess he was sure Tim was point and Cass was swiping the card.

As Alfred dove them along he told Cassandra to meet him at a small shop nearby where they could get a couple of clothes for Tim since it seemed that his third son was going to be stuck like this for a while so they need to get clothes for him.

After meeting up with them Bruce picked up Tim who hugged him tightly nuzzling up to him. RUbbing the soft black hair Bruce patted his back. “Hey, Tim, have fun?”

“I got a toy, look,” Tim held up the toy Batman before hugging Bruce again whispering. “It’s you….”

“It is. Let keep is a secret, alright?” Bruce rubbed the boy’s head kissing it as well. “Let’s get you some more things than head back home okay?”

“When Mom and Dad?”

“... They're on a trip right now. You can stay with us until they get home, alright?” Bruce said rubbing Tim’s back. “We’ll have a movie night with snacks, alright?”

“With popcorn and snacks?” Tim asked eyes nearly taking over his whole face.

“As much as you want,” Bruce promised before he looked at Cassandra. “How about it, Cass? You want to grab some snacks you like for movie night?”

Nodding Cassandra held up her hand in a twisting motion than drinking. “...?”

“Yeah, we can get some soda too,”  nodded as she smiled giving a thumbs up. “Alright, you two let's go. Cass mind texting the others that were having a movie night?”

She nodded taking out her phone started to send a text to their group chat.

--

Ping!

Dick was having a heart attack still trying to look for Tim he had gotten Ace involved trying to get the dog to follow the scent but the dang hound just gruffed at him before going back to sleep. When the ping went off Dick took out his phone hoping that Jason had found Tim.

Cass: Movie. Snacks. 8pm. Bruce. Home. Soon.

For a long second, DIck was frozen when he turned around rushing to the banister. “Jason?!”

“I got it too!” RUnning out from where he had been looking in the pool room Jason took a break. “It was nice knowing you Dickieboy.”

“You’re not throwing me under the bus!”

“I’m not the one who lost him!”

The two of them started to yell and fight when they saw Bruce cat coming up the drive. They both looked at each other minds racing on what to say. They must have stayed there forever trying to work something in their minds when the door opened and Bruce walked in with bags of snacks, bags of popcorn of all flavors and Cassandra had Tim in her arms!

Dick was in too much in shock and realize that he swore he could feel his legs shaking as they watched them walk up to him. He looked at Jason who had an eye twitch going on and mouth clamped shut before turning back to the others.

“We’re having a movie night. Why don’t you boys go grab Damian and meet us in the movie room?” Bruce said without missing a beat as he continued to walk on. “And bring come bowls and paper napkins.”

Cassandra looked them over eyes reading over their body language before she almost let out an almost laugh. “Apologies. Took. Ice cream.”

“Cass, I almost had a heart attack!” Dick flee to his hands and knees. “Oh god, please don’t do that again.”

“Jason?”

For a long moment, Jason said nothing before slowly turning around walking a big jaggedly towards the liquor cabinet. He had a feeling that he would be needed tonight.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Professor McGonagall was never one to spend time in her animagus form unless it was truly necessary. But, sometimes, even she needed a break from the noisy students that swarm her classroom.

She found that lounging in a cat’s body is more comfortable than one would think. As odd as it sounded, she enjoyed it quite a bit. She wouldn’t let herself drift off, but at least scouring her classroom while sitting atop a desk was more pleasant on four legs.

And then, she heard the slightest sound of something scratching against wood. The door to her classroom just barely pushed and tiny kitten hobbled in. Its ears perked straight when it saw her gawking and began waddling over on its stubby little legs.

That’s right. The trouble, but sweet child had become an animagus, too. She didn’t think it was possible for someone so young to gain such an ability. It amazed her.

The elder feline fixed her posture, gazing down at the ball of fur making their way over to their desk. Big blue eyes turned up to stare at her.

The kitten wiggled on their spot for a moment before leaping. They barely got a few inches off to ground before they fell again, smooshing their snout against the ground. With a frustrated “mrr”, they got back up and tried again, only to hit their head against the front of the desk.

They fell onto their back, their little legs flailing wildly in the air for a moment before they were able to roll over.

Professor McGonagall blinked a few times before hopping down gracefully. Her movements were always so smooth and slick in this form.

She studied the kitten for a moment before picking them up by the scruff of their neck and jumping back onto the desk. She set them down, only to have the kitten rub all over her legs, purring louder than any of the cats that were worked with during class.

Her ears swiveled backwards, tail flicking from side to side. She didn’t know how it was possible for this kitten- this child-to be so happy. They had to be suffering from some terrible grief from the situations they always get themselves caught into.

When she looked into the big blue eyes, she swear she can see the student staring back at hear, teary but beaming. If she strained her ears, she thought she could hear them say something.

“Look at me! I’m doing it! Aren’t you proud?”

The small feline at her feet blinked a few times before batting at her paws. She shook out her coat and then began grooming the kitten. If they were going to be an animagus, they might as well look good while doing it.

If no one else would be proud of this child, then she would just do it herself.

[phoenixmakeswords]

100 Follower Celebration--Part 1

That’s right. Part one. I’m horrible with decisions, so I’m giving y’all more than one thing. To start things off, here’s the first chapter of the dragon shifter thing. Enjoy!

The sound of human voices downstairs both alarms me and reawakens my hunger. I was human once. But now I'm the monster in the dark, the thing that goes bump in the night.

I move silently through the rickety old house that’s become my prison. I want to see these foolish, stupid humans. Don’t they know what this house is? Haven’t they heard the legends of a fairy tale come true? Don’t they know I eat people like them? They’ll see the bones of the others soon enough. The would-be heroes come to slay the vicious dragon. Of course I ate them; I don’t particularly feel like dying.

I stick to the shadows on the second floor. The house is mostly shadows now; they’re where I blend in.

Five human men sit on the battered, dusty red couch in the living room. They’re not armed. Or not that I can see, and I can see quite well.

“It’s an urban legend. Nobody’s ever seen a dragon,” one of them snaps in exasperation. He has a strident voice that grates on my nerves. I might eat him first just so I don’t have to hear his voice again.

“What’re we gonna do if it’s not a legend? Hope it doesn’t eat us?” one of the dark-haired ones retorts. Three of the five have dark hair. I don’t like this one either. I don’t appreciate being called an it. I am a him, thank you very much.

“Ah, but the legend says the dragon was sent here by its mother. Doesn’t it? Because she caught him with another boy. All we have to do is catch the beast.”

I’ve heard enough. I don’t need a reminder of my past. They don’t know the whole story. Nor do they deserve to.

I wasn’t sent here by my mother. She brought me here to protect me. She loved me.

I slink to the top floor. I like it better up here; it’s sunnier. I like sunning myself on the wood floor.

I miss being human sometimes. If I were human, I’d probably be friends with those guys downstairs. I miss being outside in the sunlight; I can only go out at night to hunt so no one sees me. I miss ice cream and not eating raw meat. I was vegetarian before this. The worst part of all of this is not knowing if I can ever be human again.

I stretch out in the sunny spot on the floor. The warm sunlight feels good. I might even go back to sleep.

I think what I miss the most is the boy I fell for when I was still human. I wonder often what happened to him. If he’s happy. If he found some guy who loves him as much as I did. As much as I still do.

He’d run away screaming if he saw me now, I think sadly, resting my chin on one of my forelegs.

Once the sun goes down, I’ll hunt. I don’t want to eat the humans downstairs unless I don’t have an option.

Their voices carry upstairs, though I try to tune them out. Until I hear Aaron’s familiar smoky voice. The sun seems just a little brighter. He’s still alive. He’s here. I can at least see him again, though he won’t know who I am. To him, I’ll just be a monster.

I creep stealthily back downstairs. I just want a glimpse of him.

I flatten myself along the wall where I'm hidden. Where I'm safe.

He’s chatting with the one who called me an it. He doesn’t sound happy.

“Look, just because I don’t know the story, doesn’t mean we have to kill him if he exists. He might not be dangerous! Have you thought of that? He might have been defending himself,” Aaron shouts irritably. His eyes sparkle like Fourth of July fireworks with his anger.

My stomach sinks at his words. They’re planning on killing me. I haven’t done anything to them, but they’ve already decided on my death. Why shouldn’t I decide on theirs? Why should I bother trying to give them a chance and be less of a monster when they’re not going to do the same thing?

I don’t realize I moved away from the wall until I see Aaron’s eyes fix on me. I'm dead. I'm a dead dragon.

I slink back to my lair. I need to plot. The sun’s just started to set when they find the bones in the kitchen. All it does is give them more ammo against me. Make them want my death more.

I’ll bide my time. They’ll attack. And I’ll be eating good for a while. Except for Aaron. I won’t hurt him. I can’t. No matter what he does to me, I’ll die before I hurt him.

I wait until the stars have made an appearance and things are quiet in the house before making my way to the window. It takes more effort on my part than it should to work the window open; I don’t exactly have opposable thumbs right now and the window frame is swollen with rain.

The night air feels good on my face.

I clamber gracefully onto the metal steps. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to spread my wings like this. I don’t hunt often. Probably not as often as I should anyway. It’s been a couple weeks since I last did this.

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to flying. I hope I never do. It’s incredibly freeing. The wind in my face. The moonlight on my back. The steady beat of my wings. I love it. It might be the one thing about being a dragon I enjoy.

I stay away from the town when I hunt. Away from the lights. I don’t want to be seen.

It isn’t long before I spot the deer. They’re grazing peacefully in a farmer’s field near New Hebron. They don’t run when they smell me. They should.

I take two of the smaller ones. They’ll keep me from starving for a couple more weeks. I don’t like doing this, but I can’t eat grass. I’ve tried. Tried eating a tree too; all I got for that was a splinter between my teeth.

I’m sorry, I think, nudging the bones away from the road. I know coyotes and other scavengers will come investigate and I don’t want them to be hit by a car.

I have humans in my lair when I get back. A low growl tears from my throat when I see the variety of weapons they bear: Knives; guns; pipes, and a baseball bat. Aaron is the only one unarmed.

“Don’t do this,” he pleads, stepping between his friends and me. “He hasn’t tried to hurt us. Why provoke him?”

“He’s a monster! Just look at him!” Strident Voice retorts, gesturing at me with his free hand. Tail whipping angrily, I huff in response. “Did you miss the bones?”

“Maybe he didn’t mean to. Do we have to hurt him? If we leave him alone, maybe we can coexist.” Aaron, ever the peacemaker. That worked out real well for him when my dad caught us together. Worked out real well for both of us. At least Aaron didn’t turn into a monster.

I stretch my neck out and rest my head lightly on his shoulder. He smells just like I remember: Axe Phoenix, leather, and mint. His heart rate skyrockets at the contact.

“See? He could tear my head off right now but he’s not.”

He makes me feel a tiny bit more human. He’s good at that.

“He’s just waiting for you to let your guard down,” Pipe Dude #1 spits, inching closer.

He swings the pipe at my neck. Snarling, I catch the pipe in my teeth and jerk it from his grasp. I don’t want to hurt him, but I will if he pushes me.

I straighten to my full height, a low growl rumbling in my chest. They should run.

“See? How are we supposed to renovate this stupid house with him here?” Pipe Dude #1 demands.

“Why can’t we? He wasn’t hurting us before. He’s only upset now because you attacked him. Anyone would be.”

The last time Aaron defended me, we had been making out on my bed when my dad walked in on us. He tried to take the fall. He got between us when my dad started screaming at me. I stepped in when my dad punched him. It made things worse for me because how dare I defend my boyfriend. The last time I saw Aaron, his nose was bleeding from my dad’s fist. He hasn’t changed.

Purring, I bump my snout against his head gently. Even if I’m never human again, I want to enjoy this moment.

As much as I want to eat his friends, I won’t because it will hurt him. I can’t hurt him. I’m not that much of a monster. I still slink into the hall to watch them in the morning. It’s becoming my favorite hobby. Except it might get me killed.

I listen to their renovation plans. Apparently, they’re planning on selling it once they get done. Again, my death is brought up. Like it’s the only thing that matters. I don’t want to die.

“We’re not killing him,” Aaron sighs in exasperation.

I think I might love him just a little bit more for that.

“He was supposed to be a freaking myth,” Strident Voice snaps.

“What was the rest of the legend anyway? I haven’t heard it before.”

“So, five years ago, this guy, Leo Something-Or-Other brought a guy home. Things were getting pretty hot and heavy between them when Leo’s parents found out. They weren’t too thrilled about their son being gay. They flipped out and their hatred is what made Leo turn into a dragon.” He sounds skeptical but he’s closer to the truth than I’m comfortable with.

Aaron’s face is unreadable as he rakes a hand through his chestnut curls. I wish I knew what he’s thinking.

“That’s interesting,” Aaron says finally.

[illidariyoungblood]

The soup at the inn was... not great. Even with tainted senses, she could tell. Whoever cooked it was lacking in skill and taste. But, it was noodles and dumplings that she didn't have to make or share with anyone else. A little taste of home without the effort. All she had to deal with was the ugly looks and curious stares from those around her. Ah, but she could tune those out and focus on her sad soup.

Off to her side came the sound of someone setting dishes on the bar. 'That's an odd place for the bus bin,' she thought but paid it no further mind.

"Once again, you don't have to bring me your dishes, ma'am. It's included in the price." The bartender sounded exhausted. Someone laughed, and the sound of it almost shot noodles out of Adarlassa's nose. She had to slap a hand over her face and swallow hard to keep that from happening.

"Once again, I am just being a good guest! Now hand me a rag, I will wipe the table."

'Oh no, oh no, please, Elune, don't let it be...' Adarlassa focused her Sight on the figure. Sure enough, it was her worst nightmare and also her wildest dreams. A short, stout little panderan woman, black spots littered with graying fur but her hair dyed bright colors to hide the same hairs in her mane.

She let out a small whine that seemed to go unnoticed as the woman argued over being allowed to clean up her own mess at an inn. Quickly, Adarlassa gulped down the rest of the soup and shoved the rest of the dumplings in her mouth. She choked once but fixed it easily with her tea. The sound of her coughing caught the ear of the panderan, who turned to look at her.

"Slow down! Chew and enjoy your food! Someone worked hard on it!" She said, wiggling a finger at her. The bartender huffed.

"Yiuling, stop lecturing my other customers, I'm begging you."

"I am not lecturing! I am only-"

Adarlassa tuned them out and dug in her pockets for a handful of gold, easy more than the soup was worth but she wasn't going to stand around and wait for change. They could keep it. She had to get away, before either she cried or Yiuling realized who she was scolding.

Stepping out of the inn might have been a mistake. Almost as soon as she had, the old familiar name reached her ears and she picked up the aura of a handful of male panderan on the balcony overlooking the street.

"Look at that, isn't that-... Ada? Ada! Is that you?"

'Shit shit shit shit damn no, not like this!' She snarled and quickly summoned her serpent from his hiding place around the corner.

"Look, it's Luu! That has to be her! Ada!"

She mounted and kicked the three-legged creature into the air to make a fast getaway.

Two sharp notes and two low ones sounded in a whistle, and Luu rumbled pleasantly and looped around on himself to head towards the whistle, even with his rider shoving her claws into his scales to try and control him. But no, the dumb animal was far too food driven, and never forgot the noise Shuukin would use to call the serpents for dinner.

"No, no, no! You idiot-!" She tried to climb out of the saddle and flee, but Luu's one front leg touched down on the rail of the balcony and great big furry arms grabbed her in a soul squeezing, bone crushing hug.

"Ada!" Shuukin bellowed in delight, twirling her around and coaxing the meal back up into her throat for a second. No sooner had he let her go than the other two jumped on her, showering her in hugs and pats from their big paws. "Ada, it is good to see you!"

Well. No point in anything now, she supposed, and sighed in defeat before smiling and returning the hugs of her brothers.

"Hi, Baba. Hi, Mokka, hi Tokka. What are you doing in Dalaran?"

"Vacationing! Mama wants to see the world! Why did you run? Did you not hear us calling?"

She bowed her head and shrugged.

"I... was not and still am not ready for you to see me like this. I'm... kind of an ugly monster." She said, frowning.

"That is nothing new! You were ugly last time we saw you, too!" Mokka laughed, and she smiled and jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. Their father huffed and took her cheeks in his big paws.

"That's untrue! She's beautiful! Even still, she is as beautiful as the day she left." With one paw, he took the sedge hat off her head and placed a tiny nuzzle to her hair before turning his attention to the hat. It was in good condition, but still showed signs of wear from battle. He sat down to work on it.

"Yeah," Tokka said, reaching over to lay a paw upside Mokka's head. "She's prettier than your ugly mug!"  As the two boys bickered, with each other, Shuukin reached over with a big paw and pulled Adarlassa to his side and sat her on his knee. It was a little awkward. She was bigger than the last time that happened, and she had to balance to fit. But, it was comforting and relaxing in a way that soothed her felflame soul.  “You put holes in the straw, on purpose?” He asked, still fidgeting with the hat. He set it upon her head for a moment and made a noise of realization.  “Yes, Baba. I, uh, I sprouted-” “Little horns! Just when I thought you couldn’t be any more unusual.” They shared a small chuckle and he returned to working. Her brothers crowded her soon after to pull her up and look her over, from claws to fangs to the lack of eyes, to the wings tucked under her cape as they healed from a pulled muscle. They seemed thrilled and excited, not at all repulsed and frightened like she had expected. And Shuukin just... didn’t seem to mind. Just as usual, nothing seemed to faze him.  Yiuling’s aura waddled its way up the stairs to the tiny bedroom they shared and reflexively, Adarlassa pulled her two brothers to form a wall. It only lasted a second before their mother shoved them aside.  “No, I heard her! She is here!” She shouted loudly in her native tongue, and instantly threw herself at the elf to hug her tight. Adarlassa stood shocked for only a second before she returned the hug, burying her face in the soft old fur on Yiuling’s shoulder. One of the two began to shake and sniffle. Adarlassa swore it wasn’t her, but two gentle paws grabbed her face and rubbed at her cheek bones. “No! No, no, no, no crying! This is happy!”  Adarlassa could only nod and kneel before hugging her adoptive mother again. “I’ve missed you, Mama. I’ve missed you and Baba and the boys so much. I’m so sorry I’m like this.” “No! Don’t be sorry! You’re wonderful! You’re my daughter! You’re my wonderful daughter!” Her short snout buried between Adarlassa’s shortened horns and planted a tiny kiss on her scalp. “You are a little shocking though, I will not lie. I didn’t recognize you at first.”  Shuukin waved the hat from his chair, a piece of straw held in his teeth. He spoke around it. “You did not even recognize the sedge, woman!” “I did recognize it, Baba, I’d recognize your handiwork anywhere. I just thought she’d given it away to a friend. She is generous and sweet like that.” “No, Mama, she would not! We made this hat together!” He scoffed. Adarlassa grinned and nodded.  “Yes, it does mean a lot to me. I wouldn’t get rid of it for anyone. They’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead claws if they want it.” Not that she could think of a single person who would want it. Even standard issue Illidari gear was better at protecting than the sedge. It held more sentimental value than anything. “Where are you staying these days?” Shuukin asked as he finished up the hat and placed it gently on her head. She huffed and adjusted it to fit around her ears and horns. “And you haven’t been eating, have you? You know Mama worries about that.” “I have been eating! Just... I burn more than I eat sometimes.” Maybe more than just ‘sometimes’ though. “But I’m staying on the Fel Hammer. It’s kind of our base of operations. It’s just outside of town. Kind of. The portal is, I mean.” “Oh! I would like to see it!” Yiuling said, grinning.  “It’s a base of operations, Mama, I don’t think she can take you.” Mokka protested and shook his head.  “... I mean, I could take you to the Fel Hammer. You can see it, if you’d like. I can’t really give you a tour, though. That might be too far.” Adarlassa shrugged. Surely she could get just one Panderan to the bat roost.  “Then let’s do that!” Yiuling nodded, paws on her hips and maw split in a toothy grin. “Mama, don’t get her in trouble!” Shuukin rumbled, shaking a paw. “Stay here insetad! We’re on vacation! You’re already causing enough trouble here, don’t raise more for her!” “It’ll be fine, Baba,” Adarlassa grinned. “A short sight seeing visit, and then we’ll come back!” “Yes, show me the sights, Ada. I am on vacation, after all!”

[bellatrix-la-strange]

Pandora’s Box

[Full story this time]

“Nice and easy does it,” whispered Pandora, her soft hands overlapping her daughter’s as they both emptied the contents of a pot into a boiling cauldron. “Very well done, sweetheart,” she praised, gently peeling her daughter’s fingers off the metal handles.

“Was it really? Or is that something you have to say because you’re my mother and you love me so very much?” asked eight-year-old Luna.

“The science and art behind spellmaking are both held in a delicate balance between one another,” said Pandora. “This means that even the smallest changes can have enormous consequences. If you hadn’t done it correctly, I would have let you know so you’d never make the same mistake again.” She’d turned away from the work table to begin scrubbing the pot in the sink. “That being said, I do enjoy pouring praise on those I love very very much.”

“Like me,” stated Luna, eyes wide and mischievous.

“Like you,” smiled Pandora. “Why don’t you keep an eye on that while I finish up here and once it’s done, we can call your father in from the garden and have some tea.”

“Okay.”

The legs of a stool screeched across the floor as Luna pulled it around the table. She clambered onto the seat and was content to keep watch over the potion in near silence. Every once in a while, she’d hum disconnected tunes, both from existing songs and imagined ones. When Pandora recognized the song, she’d hum along with her daughter until the girl tired of the same melody and reverted back to her solemn vigil.

“Mum?”

“Mm, yes, dear?” hummed Pandora.

“What did you say was supposed to happen after we added the Draught of Wilderness?”

“It’s supposed to turn yellow, then solidify until it become gelatinous and produces small pockets of purple and mustard bubbles. Shouldn’t be much longer now.”

“Oh,” said Luna.

Then, “Mum, I think something’s wrong.”

Pandora didn’t question her daughter’s statement. She whirled around, dropping the sopping pot in the sink full of water with a splash and rushed to Luna’s side.

“What’s the matter, swee—”

A great plume of smoke erupted out of the cauldron like the contents of a shaken, fizzy drink. The smoke was the darkest of purple, almost black, and shot up high until it hit the ceiling and began crawling across it, darkening the room until it seemed like night-time.

“Mum, what’s going on?” Luna’s inscrutable, airy voice trembled as she craned her neck to observe the festering clouds in the room.

“I’m not entirely sure, sweetheart,” conversed Pandora, purposefully keeping her own voice unaffected. “It’s getting awfully dark in here, though. Why don’t you head on out, get some sunshine and fresh air, while I clean up in here?”

Pandora didn’t wait for her daughter to respond before she was hauling her out of her chair and pushing her to the door. The smoke was solidifying - beginning to take its form and shape from a hybrid of magical and non-magical animals. The entire ceiling was covered in those dark clouds and as the substance reached the edges dropping into walls, they started to change, grow a likeness to legs, arms, heads, some with horns, others wings and all of them with razor sharp teeth and amber, glowing eyes.

“M-mum, what are those?” whispered Luna. “I don’t think they like me.”

“It’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart, you just head out through the door and—”

Whatever she was about to say was cut short as one of the smoke creatures detached itself from the mesh of clouds on the ceiling and dragged itself down the wall. One of its three-fingered paws touched the top of the door and left behind scratches on the wood.

Pandora’s breath caught in her throat. She grasped Luna’s shoulders and twirled her around, hugging her close enough to stop her from getting a good look at the creatures twisting and jerking into existence above them. Pandora took out her wand from the pocket on her apron and held up over her head.

“Protego Dome!”

The familiar light blue film of the protective charm dropped out of the tip of her wand to form a protective dome around mother and daughter. The smoke creatures had almost completely solidified now, only the thinnest wisps of smoke trailing behind their forms. They were crawling down the walls and over the windows, blocking out the last remnants of light.

One of the creatures - a beast with the body of a snake, the clawed wings of a bat and the head of a boar - dropped down from the ceiling and landed directly in front of them. Pandora held back her terrified scream as half its body rose up off the ground to survey the room and she couldn’t control the trembling in her body or the tightening of her arms around her daughter as the creatures locked its gaze on them.

“It’s really dark now, mum.”

“Y-yes,” - Pandora cleared her throat - “yes, I know, darling. Mummy’s trying to see how she can go about letting some light back in.”

“It’s not even night-time yet,” Luna mumbled into her mother’s stomach. “Where did the sun go?”

The smoke creature which had landed at their feet opened its mouth and hissed, exposing its sharp teeth and two thin tongues which it proceeded to run over its lips.

Pandora shuddered.

“It’s still there, it’s just… playing hide and seek. Like you do with your daddy sometimes, or with that Weasley girl from across the village. Remember her?”

Luna’s head burrowed further into her mother’s apron as she bobbed it up and down. “She’s nice. I like her,” she said.

“I know you do, sweetheart,” Pandora replied lightly, her mind working a mile a minute trying to figure out a way out of the mess they were in. She dared to glance back at the door and noted that it was now completely obscured from view. The smoke creatures had taken over the entire room, they were clinging to the walls and dangling from the ceiling, taking their time inching closer and closer to the huddled pair in the centre of the room.  

Pandora’s arm was growing tired from being held aloft for so long and she was developing a piercing headache from holding the magical shield for so long. She was pouring all her strength into it, praying it would be enough to sustain them, to protect them from the creatures mercilessly taking over their home.

Huddled up as close to her as she was, Pandora felt Luna’s humming vibrate through her chest before the sweet melody made its way up to her ears and at that moment, Pandora’s heart broke a tiny bit. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve such an exceptional daughter, would probably never find out in fact, but she would go to the ends of the Earth and beyond for the little girl in her arms, to see her smile, to make her laugh, to brighten up her day…

“Sweetheart, you know what?”

The humming stopped. “What?”

“I think I just had a stupendous idea,” Pandora declared. “Since we can’t go out and enjoy the sunshine right this moment, what say you we bring in some of that light in here, hmm?”

Small fingers dug into Pandora’s sides as Luna thought the proposal through.

“How? Can I help?” she asked, oblivious to the creatures now circling their protective dome, using their claws, horns, tongues and tails to poke at the magical defences.

“You certainly can,” announced Pandora. “I need you to close your eyes - keep them shut as tight as you can - and think about the happiest memory you have.”

The dome shook as one of the creatures with a long snout and scales running down its back opened its mouth and breathed toxic green fire.

“My happiest memory?” asked Luna. “Like when you, me and daddy went to that beach for Christmas and spent all that time searching for the sand dollars that Sea Nymphs use?”

Pandora’s eyes filled with tears, the same ones that felt like they were choking her with a vice around her throat. Her hand trembled as she brought it up to cradle the back of her daughter’s head, fingers running over the silky strands of hair she’d fashioned into a braid that very morning.

“Yes, darling, just like that. Can you do that for me?” Luna nodded her head. “Are you doing it right now?” Another nod. “Perfect.”

Pandora had a thought just then, the thought that these were quite possibly her last moments on Earth, on this plane of existence. What she was about to attempt was full of risk and sacrifice. It required more strength than she had and would leech off her magic until she had none left so it would then target her life, the very essence which kept her walking, breathing, eating, talking, thinking, hoping, loving.

If her spell went well, she’d be walking out of her own life so her daughter would have a change at living hers.

Pandora gathered her daughter close and breathed her in, recognizing traces of jasmin from their homemade soap, hints of burned wood and coal from the fire warming their living room and freshly turned soil from a morning spent rolling around in the garden.

“You know what’s so amazing about good things like happy memories, sweetheart? We can call on them whenever we need them and they’ll come back to us, just like that. Are you at the beach with daddy now?”

“And you,” said Luna.

“That’s my girl.”  

The protective dome quaked and shattered. Pandora kept her wand raised over her head as the smoke creatures prowled towards them. She didn’t flinch away from their glares as they focused their yellow eyes on her. In fact, she met them head on with an unspoken warning and a promise brimming in her eyes and coursing down her cheeks.

Pandora gripped her daughter tight, closed her eyes and spoke the incantation to the spell she’d been working on for the past decade.

A light flickered to life on the tip of her wand. Though it appeared nothing more than a solitary bubble hovering in the air, radiating a steady glow in the dark of the room, there was something in the depths of the bubble, right at the centre, which danced and gleamed with the essence of life.

Pandora had no way of knowing what she’d summoned to her home to protect her daughter. She couldn’t possibly know that it was only through the slightest miscalculation, the smallest amount of give in the tightly wound strands holding the spell together which allowed her to be woken up several minutes later by her panicking husband.

“What happened? Are you all right? Is Luna okay? Is she hurt? Are you hurt? Should I call for a Healer? I should call for a Healer,” Xenophilius rambled, dark hair sticking to his pallid face.

Pandora shifted and groaned. She’d fallen on her back with the weight of her daughter pushing her down and causing twice as much damage when she’d hit the floor. She was sure to have bruises all over her back and arms, and even her head going by the warm, pulsing bump sticking out behind her left temple.

“I-I think I’m fine,” she mumbled, taking Xenophilius’ hand gratefully and pulling herself up. “Check on Luna, please, Xeno. I think she’s just unconscious but if there’s anything wrong with her, I don’t—”

Xenophilius nodded and took their daughter in his arms, carefully resting her on top of the long work table when he took out his wand and ran the few diagnostic spells he knew.

“She’s fine,” he breathed out, then, louder, “she’s going to be just fine, my love. Nothing a hearty bowl of soup and some pumpkin juice won’t fix.”

“Thank the Gods,” sighed Pandora. She stumbled upright on unsteady legs and fell into her husband’s arms, whispering what had happened in one steady stream of shaken breaths.

That night, when Luna’s bedtime came about, Pandora was quick to snatch her favourite book out of their shelves, one about adventure and daring and love and sacrifice, and read it to her daughter from front to cover. She continued reading aloud long after Luna had nodded off and didn’t realize her husband had been listening in until she found him sprawled out outside their daughter’s door, head hanging to his chest, legs sprawled out in front of him.

Over the weeks after the incident in the laboratory Pandora found herself spending more and more time with her nose buried in her books, her hair sticking up at all ends from the fumes of boiling cauldrons and the bottom of her pencil worn to the lead from continuous anxious chewing. She didn’t know what she was searching for as she explored and took apart the spell which had saved her and her daughter’s lives months ago.

She knew she’d never take her family for granted though and that was why she limited daytime experiments in her lab and continued them late at night, when Xenophilius and Luna were asleep. Her project would come along faster if she knew what she was looking for, but she couldn’t explain what fuelled her to keep investigating and experimenting any more than she could make sense of her husband’s passion for The Quibbler. It was like a singular substance added into the mixture which made her whole and without it, she wouldn’t be the person she was, the people they all were.

…

Luna was happy. She’d suffered nightmares for a few weeks but those seemed to have been left in the past and she now ran around the garden, played with the Weasley girl, continued her search for the creatures she and her father were convinced were hiding in far-off corners of the world and had resumed helping her mother in her lab - though they read their instructions out of a book rather than Pandora’s personal notebook.

A year passed in this fashion. By this time Luna had completely forgotten of that one scary incident with the smoke monsters jumping out of the darkness.. She was oblivious to her mother's vigilant eyes as she helped stir a potion, or the twitch to her father's shoulders when she wrapped herself in her child-sized, potion-making apron and trotted out of the room.

Therefore, she thought nothing of it when one night, when she had woken up in the late hours for a cup of water, strange noises started filtering into the kitchen through the cracked door to the laboratory. Luna did find it curious that her mum would be working so late but it wouldn’t be the first time Pandora lost track of time fiddling with one thing or another and tuning her experiments to perfection.

Luna was prepared to go straight back upstairs - in the frigid cold of the kitchen at night, her warm bed was calling to her like an irresistible siren - but then the kitchen became. She’d been relying on the moonlight to guide her through the house but now that it was gone, covered up by a black cloud, she was left feeling out of sorts, her childhood fears of monsters under the bed having not quite left her yet.

As suddenly as the darkness descended, a light joined it side by side, its long, spindly fingers reaching for Luna from under the lab’s door. Luna walked towards it - to her mum - but came to a brisk stop once she spotted what was going on inside the room.

The smoke creatures were back, circling her mother who stood in the centre of the room, three large circles drawn on the ground in chalk with a different candle placed at each cardinal point. There were symbols etched into the floor in dizzying patterns, ones which Luna had never seen before, and her mother, Pandora, was positioned in the middle of it all, wand in hand.

“I needed to know,” Pandora was saying, “I couldn’t not know. It was eating away at me, I just… I had to do something. I didn’t know this would—I didn’t know, please.”

“Don’t think you can fool us, Mrs Lovegood,” purred one of the smoke creatures, its strange features shifting from one form to another in a matter of seconds. “We may not be as powerful in this plane as we are in ours but we are strong enough to spot a lie.”

“I am not lying,” begged Pandora, “I was just… curious and foolish and I never should have continued that spell—”

“Alas, but you did.”

Luna couldn’t see the creature from the doorway, but she could tell from the lilt to its voice that it was smiling. She wanted to run to her mother, pull on her hand and rush her as far away from the room as they could get. They’d all run away together - Luna, her dad and her mum - and they’d hide like the Crumple-Horned Snorkack and they’d never have to worry about these creatures finding them ever again.

“Please,” sobbed Pandora, head dropping forward in supplication. “My family… They have no idea, they—”

“No harm will come to them if you submit willingly.”

Luna was young, almost too young to understand what was happening on the other side of the door, but she wasn’t young enough to ignore the way her heart got caught in her throat, how her legs weakened to jelly,  as her mother’s wand clattered to the ground and she dropped to her knees. She must have made some noise for her mother’s spine suddenly became ramrod straight and her eyes snapped to Luna’s still form by the door.

A message passed between mother and daughter then. Pandora didn’t have to say anything for Luna to understand what her mother was asking of her, the impossibility of it. Her lips parted, ready to argue and beg if she had to, but her mother shook her head almost imperceptibly and mouthed ‘Stay. I love you’.

Luna’s response to that was to break down in silent tears and noiseless sobs.

“I won’t put up a fight,” said Pandora, gaze now focused on the creatures in front of her. “Do me a favour and make it quick, please.”

The creatures hissed, growled, snickered and chirped all at once.

“As you wish.”

In a flash of darkness and power, the creatures lost their form and turned back to shapeless smoke, then began joining together and converging into a thick cloud directly on top of Pandora. They began moving together in spirals, creating a tornado which quickly picked up speed until papers, books, chairs and tools were flying around the room. As the storm finally took its shape, Pandora calmly tipped her head back and stared at the moving masses above her.

The creatures struck. The tip of the vortex caressed Pandora’s lips then pushed into her, flooding her body with the creatures’ essence until her skin turned blue and dark, raised veins erupted across her face, protruded from her neck and lined her arms. Luna watched in mounting horror and fear the way one would view an accident unfolding from far away, unable to help and frozen with the knowledge that even if she were there with her mother, she wouldn’t be able to save her.

Smoke was starting to leak out of Pandora’s nose, eyes and ears. The cloud above her was becoming smaller and smaller as the creatures took over her body and once the last of them had filtered through, Pandora slumped to the ground, convulsing. There were cracks and slaps as bones broke and flesh hit the ground and then Pandora’s mouth opened once more and white, ephemeral mist drifted out, curling and twisting to the ceiling where it sank through the cement and ambled into the night.

The creatures were gone; only Pandora’s lifeless body was left behind along with her daughter, who tripped into the room and stumbled to her mother, dropping down by her side.

That is how Xenophilius Lovegood found his family the very next morning, hours after his wife’s death. He let out a senseless cry and cradled the bodies of his wife and daughter in his arms, one cold as ice and the other seemingly on her way there.

Though Luna was woken up by her father’s presence, she left herself be hugged, kissed and murmured to, only barely registering what was going on around her. She sensed it when her father picked her up and detached her fingers, one by one, from her mother’s shift. She saw through flashes that she was being moved upstairs and felt the soft cotton sheets of her bed against her legs as her father tucked her in. She also heard the mutterings of a sleeping spell, and after that, there was no force strong enough to pull her away from the clutches of sleep to hear what happened next…  

Obliviate.

[curriebelle]

Would Sylas be a vampire bat or do you think something else? Do you ever think he kept bats in Whitestone and Delilah would find him cooing over them? And she always knew which one was him even if there was a little swarm?

Oh definitely a vampire bat, of course!!! Look how happy he is to see u, Delilah!!!

Apparently swarms of bats are supposed to infest places whenever vampires take up residence, so I’m certain they had a few bat swarms in Whitestone :’D and that Delilah would be like “Sylas look it’s your cousins” and he’d be like >:c

Eventually he’d probably play along (”Delilah, that’s my brother, not my cousin. After so many years of marriage you can’t even tell my family members apart. For shame.”)  and Delilah would absolutely catch him having little chirping bat chats at least once.

Also I wrote something about Bat!Sylas for Devils that I cut because it didn’t end up fitting the tone so here, enjoy:

XxXxX

“So,” she said, exhilarated, “what else you can do?”

Sylas pressed one finger to his lips and looked upward, mocking a thoughtfulexpression, but his smile was impossible to hide. A cracking sound rent the air, and Sylasvanished. In his place, a dark shape fluttered about in jagged circles, all fur and skin. Delilah shrieked in surprise, stumbling backwards. After her heart began to beat again, she recognized the shape of a bat. She had seen spells like this one before, at the Alabaster Lyceum - a moderately complex transmutation. She regained her balance, and dusted off her skirts, watching Sylas flap inelegantly around her with a slightly disbelieving smile on her face.

Delilah held her hand out, and the creature fluttered over and landed on her wrist. It latched its little talons intoher cuff and swung in a limp half-circle, hanging upside-down.

She raised it to eye-level, inspecting it. A bony, palm-sized creature stared back at her, button-black eyes peeking over the top of its folded wings. Sylas gave a chirp of greeting. His look would be almost coy, were it not for the scrunched-insnout and triangular ears making it all a little ridiculous.

Giggling, she murmured, “Dear, you’re so ugly.”

Sylas opened his mouth and hissed, showing off longneedle-teeth and giving a dismissive flap of his wings. Delilah laughed and scratched the top of his head with onefingertip, between the cavernous ears. The bat froze mid-display to enjoy the scratches, his tiny mouth loose – nearly smiling, shefancied. His furred chest heaved and caved with high-tempo breaths.

“Shameless,” she chastised, and Sylas-as-bat gave a shrill,happy shriek. Delilah held her arm out, and the bat dropped away and fluttered off. Across the room, her husband snapped back into existence, facing her with an exaggerated frown.

“Ugly?” he gasped,feigning a wounded tone.

Delilah shuffled up to him, and pushed the point of his noseup with one finger, trying to mock the bat’s face. “So very ugly,” she repeated, in a voice like a jeering schoolgirl.

Sylas heaved a devastated sob, and then swept her into hisarms, faster than she could properly perceive, exhilarating, disorienting. Sheshrieked again, for joy this time, and he spun her halfway around and while sheclumsily found a grip on his shoulders. They came to a stop, Delilah’s laughterbubbling up uncontrollably, coming even louder when he dipped her halfway to the floor.

“I’m dashing,” he corrected. “You simply have no taste.”

[clownpool]

the tiny bullet sized hole in the upper left hand corner of one of his worn wings created a nice little beam for the final rays of purple and orange sunlight as the bat continued to flutter behind her. his adventures were now scars left upon his appendages that would seemingly weigh the tired and sun bleached bat. yet Marshall Lee was determined as ever to keep up with his friend, and stubborn enough to give that sunset a proverbial and impractical fuck you with the incessant and entirely graceless flapping of his wings. even in his familiar form, the sun would curse and spit upon his very essence. it would weaken the icarus who was too stubborn to feel singed wings burn and crisp.

he imagined that salt lined shores would feel nice in his toes. he was almost jealous of her strides in the sand even as the remaining daylight as the sun fell into dusk. the witch’s decor would billow in the wind, proving just how hard it was to follow for the unfortunate flier. she would look delicate and mystical while he looked like a bat trapped in an empty rum bottle. tiny chirps would call after her to slow her pace, but there was no coaxing Sally McKnight. she was the one to coax him to that secluded beach.

finally, and just as the moon called the tides in a different direction, mercy would allow the bat to combat sea salt wind. he’d find his way to close the distance and perch upon her shoulder. the nuzzle to follow was unexpected but by no means a first for physical touch. fingers in wings, and claws in toes were delicate as the creature settled in it’s place. the bat had a particular liking to the scent at the pulse point of her neck. thus his snout would rub against smooth skin clear of all imperfections.

the particles of sand would glisten in what would appear to be a rivalry against the stars. the moon was partial to the beach sand since it would glow far brighter than the budding blanket of shimmer. since she was leading the way to their impromptu campsite, he’d enjoy the ride upon her shoulder until darkness finally took to the beach. a calmness would silence the bat’s chirps. for once, it was as if Marshall Lee couldn’t find anything to complain about. these were their most intimate moments. silence could be rather awkward when shared with anyone other than his witchy friend. yet they had other modes of communication. a silent tongue could all but enunciate just how precious these moments were for him.

the familiar would read her thoughts as bat wings would materialize into a red flannel shirt and a bat snout would transform into a more natural vampiric one. shoe would replace skeletal bat claws, and he’d no longer rest upon her shoulder– but land on his feet behind her after hovering in his shifting. bat fangs, though, still gleaming in his smirk would retract for a moment as he spoke his mind. a blunt, yet teasing tone would follow to almost ruin the peaceful night, “I think you’d taste of dark cherries, maybe a hint of cinnamon... like a cherry tart, but spiced with warmth and probably rum.” speaking of which, “We did bring rum, didn’t we?” the we in that sentence would indicate a secular Sally Mcknight, since Marshall Lee had only packed his essentials– his bass guitar and a pack of cigarettes.

his eyes would trail her neck once more as he watched as enchanted wood fall into a circle for the perfect beach bonfire. it would keep them warm during that chilly night. “You ought to let me taste you one day. I promise I won’t bite hard-you can trust me. I have never broken your trust before.”

yet he all but could hear her protests, despite the look on her face.

from his shirt pocket, he’d pull a box of matches to light the fire with. though opening the match box he’d be sorely disappointed. “Oof. Last one. It’ll have to wait until I decide on when I’m taking my smoke break. Unless you want to wrestle me for it.”

@amcrvnthxne​

[thecoquetteishcontessa-blog]

“No Depravity You Wouldn’t Commit” (A “Great Mouse Detective” Fan Fiction) (NSFW)

Apologies for my absence on here. I haven’t not been writing. I just haven’t had the time to upload my more recent entries. This particular story was written for Content Warning’s Disney themed show which was held on September 1 in Vancouver, British Columbia and hosted as always by the delightfully fiendish Mockingbird Media Entertainment. Disney is very near and dear to my heart so naturally I just had to pervert it to my own twisted whims. Out of all the research I have done for these stories, this one easily resulted in the strangest search history of all. Enjoy!

The Foxington Tavern: the epitome of elegance. The height of high class. The setting was a breath of fresh air for Basil, the great mouse detective hailing from Baker Street. Accustomed to the seedy pubs and sketchy dens lurking the underbelly of Mousedom, it was highly unusual for an undercover investigation to land Basil in such a luxurious location.

Carefully adjusting his top hat, Basil scanned the crowded tavern for an empty table. Not one to get distracted by the opulent velveteen curtains, the luminescent chandeliers, the ladies and gentlemen mice dressed lavishly from top to tail or even the bushy faux moustache itching his long snout, Basil made his way through the haze of smoke and perfume to a small round table in the corner.

Once Basil sat down, he took out his trusty pipe and lit it up. With every puff he took, he grew more and more impatient. He knew taverns could get busy but how bloody long does it take for a barmaid to get to a table? A brisk bourbon would be nice but some clues would be even better.

After a seemingly endless stretch of time, a young lady mouse, slimmest of waist but widest of eyes, finally arrived at Basil’s table.

“Good evening, sir!” she chirped cheerfully. “May I get you a drink?”

Basil straightened his posture and cleared his throat.

“Perhaps just a bourbon for me, thank you miss,” Basil ordered, straining to enunciate his words in an attempt to appear as part of the upper class elite.

“You’re very welcome, sir. The bourbon will be coming in just a mo—“

“Wait a moment, my dear!” interrupted Basil, turning towards the barmaid.

“You wouldn’t happen to have seen a peg-legged bat with a crippled wing stop by recently, have you?” Basil inquired, staring sharply into her bright blue eyes.

As if on cue, a boisterous laugh shot through the crowd.

“I’m sorry, sir. I couldn’t hear you. Could you please repeat that?” the flustered barmaid shook her head.

“HAVE YOU SEEN A PEG-LEGGED—“

Once again, he was cut off by that gleefully obnoxious giggle. Basil shuddered. He knew that cocky cackle all too well. Much to the barmaid’s befuddlement, Basil got up from the table and pushed his way through the crowd with stubborn persistence.

Is he really here? Could that wretched, repulsive rat really have the audacity to show that slimy, smug face of his in such plain sight?! Basil’s mind raced, desperately seeking the source of that taunting tittering.

Suddenly, red wine from a lush’s swinging glass splashed onto Basil’s shoulder.

Cursing under his breath, Basil removed his damp coat. Without warning, that tormenting chortle reverberated up close in his round ears.

“You should really be mindful of your surroundings, Basil,” the voice purred in seething delight.

Basil turned around. There he was; that pretentious, pompous, putrid Professor Ratigan! Looking just as overbearing as ever in his pish-posh suit, ridiculous cape draped over those broad shoulders and gaudy pink and purple striped ascot accentuating his puffed out chest.

“Ratigan!” gasped Basil. “Shouldn’t you be toiling away in some filthy sewer over your next nefarious scheme?! What so-called “criminal mastermind” would venture outside and revel in his own degeneracy with such blatant disregard?”

Nonplussed, Ratigan took a leisurely drag from his cigarette.

“What of it, dear boy?” he exhaled. “Can’t I have a night out without having the likes of you breathing down my neck? Besides…”

Ratigan stepped in closer, peering down at Basil.

“Don’t you have some toys to tinker with in that rinky-dink laboratory of yours? You hardly have anything else to do outside your limited little life of…obsessive stalking,” sneered Ratigan, blowing a large puff of smoke in Basil’s face.

Coughing, the miffed mouse wanted nothing more than to put this vile vermin, the bane of his existence, behind bars. Oh how Basil relished the thought of Ratigan bound and chained to the wall, weak and whimpering. Yet there he was; easily within his grasp but frozen in the fantasy he had cooked up ever since his first encounter the self proclaimed “world’s greatest criminal mind”.

“My, my…for someone so quick-witted, you seem to be at a loss for words. Cat got your tongue?” Ratigan mockingly pouted.

Basil clenched his fists, clinging onto anything resembling composure.

“Stalking? Don’t you mean solving crimes committed by scoundrels such as you?!” Basil shot back defensively

“You certainly are captivated with me, aren’t you?” smirked Ratigan, pulling Basil closer towards him. To Ratigan’s surprise, he felt a peculiar poke against his leg…and it certainly wasn’t Basil’s kneecap. A deliciously devious idea popped into his head.

“Say, Basil…if you’re really that curious to know how my brilliant brain works, we can take this somewhere a little more…discreet.” murmured Ratigan, low and raspy in Basil’s ear.

The hairs on Basil’s arms weren’t the only things rising between the two of them.

Switching over to the men’s restroom, the years of brewing tension between the bitter rivals finally erupted into something unexpected. Something in the depths of their throbbing hearts that they couldn’t deny any longer. Something…erotic.

Snatching Basil’s faux moustache and tossing away his top hat, Ratigan attempted to dive right in for a deep kiss drenched in desire. At first their snouts bumped into each other but Basil craned his neck to side, properly returning the kiss Ratigan desperately longed to deliver. Against all logic, Basil let out an aroused, elongated squeak. Ratigan pulled back, chuckling mischievously to himself.

“You make those kind of noises, Basil? I’ll have you screaming my name by the time we’re done here,” huffed Ratigan, caressing his gloved hands through Basil’s butterscotch blonde hair and up and down his slender chest.

Basil pushed back, pinning Ratigan against the ivory tiled wall.

“Not before I make you mine…” grinned Basil, eyelids heavy with lust.

Mussing up Ratigan’s meticulously slicked hair, Basil nuzzled the robust rodent’s ear as he traced his tongue along Ratigan’s stubbled cheek. Reaching Ratigan’s neck, he placed a long voracious kiss before ripping that garish ascot off with his teeth. Ratigan groaned in ecstasy as Basil tossed aside Ratigan’s cape and started unbuttoning his vest with ravenous abandon.

“You like that don’t you, you dirty rat?” smiled Basil, pleased with the sight of his foe helpless and yearning for his touch.

“…WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!” growled Ratigan.

“Who are you fooling with this distinguished gentleman rubbish?” teased Basil, sliding his hand inside Ratigan’s trousers. “We both know you like it just the way you are deep down inside…”

Basil gripped the stubby shaft pulsating inside his palm and began to pump.

“Dirty…filthy…nasty…”

Ratigan arched his back against the wall, moaning low and guttural. How could such a lanky lean mouse bring him to his knees like this? Just for that, he needed to let the deviant detective know who was the head cheese in these parts of Mousedom.

“I’ll show YOU who’s a dirty rat!”grunted Ratigan as he took Basil by the hips and bent him over the porcelain sink.

Facing the mirror, Basil may have felt his pants get pulled down but he had no choice but to witness Ratigan push himself into the mouse’s tight, tiny hole. Basil screeched in surprise. Once the initial shock of the burning new sensations wore off, he began to holler with every thrust Ratigan pounded into his furry rump. As if the waves of pleasure couldn’t crash any harder, he felt Ratigan reach around in front of his waist. First, Basil’s perfectly plump balls were fondled in the rat’s hand before it clenched his astonishingly well endowed member.

The rhythm was fast and frantic. Thrust and tug, thrust and tug, thrust and tug. Huffing and puffing, huffing and puffing. A sweaty symphony that crescendoed into a glorious orgasmic climax for Basil.

Trembling and panting, Basil looked back up to the mirror. He was perplexed by the slurping noises behind him. He turned around to face the puzzling yet titillating sight of Ratigan keeled over, grasping and…feverishly licking his pink pole. For Basil, it was impossible to hold back even the softest of snickers.

“WHAT?!” blushed Ratigan.

“Oh, for the love of cheese crumpets. If you really need to satisfy yourself, the least I could do is help you finish,” offered Basil, resting his hand on Ratigan’s chest.

Basil slowly dropped to his knees, letting his hand run sensually down Ratigan’s chest. Once he was face to face with the swollen appendage, Basil took the unsheathed shaft into his mouth and started to swirl his tongue around the fleshy tip.

In all of Ratigan’s wildest diabolical daydreams, he never thought he’d get Basil this close, let alone in such a carnal capacity. Reeling from Basil’s slick tongue lapping up every ridge and vein, what sent him to the euphoric edge was the slight scraping of Basil’s buckteeth against his magenta mushroom.

Jerking his head back, Ratigan let out a piercing shriek that shook his soul to the very core. That wasn’t all he let out though. Basil promptly got up from the floor and spat the pearly white fluid into the sink. At least there was an upside to engaging in scandalous activity in a restroom.

He may not have gotten any closer to figuring out his case but if there was one thing Basil took away from this investigation, it was…intimate insight into his greatest foe.

But for now, he could really use that bourbon.

The End

[dylanyonah]

United Differences, Chapter 2

I hope you all enjoy this. It’s the second chapter of my novel, which I hope to find an agent for by June of this year. If you have any questions about it, feel free to talk to me, I’d love to hear from you :) .

Hm.... For some reasons the bits that should be italicized aren’t so here.... And me being so technologically stupid don’t know how to fix it. So, anything that has { } around it were italicized thoughts originally, so you know.

And the art piece here is done by https://brassdragon.deviantart.com/ , a lovely artist :) .

Dyfri woke slowly, his chest still sore as he took the smallest of breaths. As his eyes fluttered open, he pulled up his dirt and mud covered tunic to find a purple blotch on his chest. He carefully trailed his fingers over it, only to yank them back from the pain.

{Bollocks. Those bulls did a number on me.}

The minotaurs. The memory of them made him jolt up into a sitting position, wide eyed as he expected them to rush him any second. The sudden movement jolted his chest as he clutched his wounded torso. He tried to ignore it as he stood up, expecting a minotaur to knock him back down at any second.

Instead, he saw nothing but the stone walls and the tiny streams of water that trickled down to the mossy cave floor. He squinted as he looked back into the depths of the cave, but even with the sun shining through the cave’s opening he could see no end. He would've breathed a sigh of relief at his luck if it weren't for his aching ribs.

{Lucky me. Wonder why those cows didn't look here.}

He looked to the mouth of the cave as the warmth of the sun hit his face. Dyfri thought back to his flight from the bull’s foul clutches, wondering how he lived through the night. Minotaurs had an impeccable sense of smell and should have picked up his scent at some point.

Yet at that point, such things didn't matter. He could worry after he found a safer, more comfortable place. Struggling to his feet, he made his way towards the cave entrance.

“Leaving so soon? Not even a goodbye, or thank you? That's bad manners.”

Dyfri nearly fell over as he whipped back around to look at the back of the cave. He couldn't see a thing, yet from the slightly higher pitched voice he knew it was female. The way she spoke, how her voice seemingly exuded strength, sent a chill up his spine. As much as he wanted to run out of the cave, the curious side of him begged him to stay, to find out who it was.

“Who are--” Dyfri caught himself. His voice wavered as he fought to keep himself composed. He swallowed, and tried again. “Who are you?”

For a moment there was nothing. Suddenly the disturbing quiet was broken by a loud, great stomping against the cave floor, growing louder with every step. Something scratched against the rocks, the sound filling Dyfri's mind with images of a great blade being dragged along the stones. It was accompanied by a strange sliding sound that reminded him of Bangfae rubbing her scales against the floors of his castle.

{A lamia. It has to be. Some really big, strange lamia. Right. That makes sense.}

Two rings of blood red pierced the black veil separating Dyfri and whatever laid at the back of the cave. Within the circles were two thin, vertical pupils staring straight at him. It reminded him of the terrible, great water lizards that lived in the rivers. He only wished the beast before him was as small as them.

Dyfri's legs locked in place as the strange, piercing eyes came closer. He had to run. He knew it. He had to run far, far away and get help. Hye and her soldiers, or villagers, just something that could kill the beast. Dyfri could only stand there like a terrified lamb before a rabid wolf.

As she moved into the light, the first he saw was the black, scale covered mouth, large enough to swallow him in one gulp. It was narrow and straight, with two nostrils on the tip, like the water dwelling lizards. Sitting shortly behind the mouth were the eyes, staring straight at him. Just past the eyes were two horns jutting back at an angle, four feet long and sharp as spears. The neck, long and snake like followed.

Then the wings revealed themselves. They were great and large, with membranes like a bat. She walked with them as if they were legs, three of the six clawed digits acting like toes with no membrane between them. As her body was revealed in the light it showed a more slender, sleek form than he expected, built more for speed than strength. Her back legs were the exception, strong enough he imagined them ripping trees from their roots with ease.

The tail was last, and was twice as long as the rest of her body. It was long and slender like a strange, living whip, ready to crush him like a python strangling its prey.

“It's not nice to stare at a lady, my little friend,” the wyvern said with a grin, her razor sharp teeth revealed with every movement of her lips.

“Impossible. Impossible… it... you can't... how is this possible?”

The wyvern chuckled. One look at her teeth made Dyfri shiver. With teeth like that she could rip off his arm just like so many dragons did a century ago, during The Great Scourge. The war that killed off every dragon alive.

Or so he thought.

He turned on his heel and ran even as his ribs ached and burned. Dyfri fought through it as best he could. He had to tell someone, had to spread the word. Everyone had to know. He couldn't let the discovery die with him.

“Hold on, I didn't say you could go!”

Dyfri barely stepped foot outside the cave when the wyvern's tail coiled around his waist. Landing on the ground, he grabbed at anything he could only to grab fistfuls of mud. He pounded against the tail with his fists, expecting to be squeezed to a pulp in seconds as his heart raced and his veins ran cold with fear.

“Let me go!” Dyfri screamed as he was pulled up to a mere foot away from the wyvern's snout, and those teeth. Those deadly, terrible teeth.

“Will you please calm down? You're just going to hurt yourself.”

{Does she take me for a fool?! Dragons have only one thing on their minds!}

“Why?! You'll get no easy breakfast out of me!” Dyfri threw the mud in his hands, striking the wyvern just above the eye. She froze, her eyes suddenly as wide as wagon wheels as Dyfri slipped out of her suddenly loosened tail.

He fell on his back with a thud, drawing a sharp breath as his chest was wracked with pain from the fall. Holding his chest he looked up as he took staggered breaths, expecting to see her claws bearing down on him. She simply stared at him, her tail gently wiping the mud away from her face. Her tail moved so delicately it reminded him of watching his sister Meinir, applying her makeup.

“You... You threw mud at me!” Her head dove down, stopping so close Dyfri's hair blew back as her hot breath washed over him. Her red eyes glared down into his blue ones. “That's the thanks I get for saving your life?!”

“You expect me to believe you saved my life?” Dyfri had to fight to speak without devolving into a stuttering, quivering mess. Every time those lips moved Dyfri expected her to slurp him up.

“Who else scared off the minotaurs? You think they were terrified of a little bruised thing like you?” She glared at him a moment more before she pulled back. She sighed and laid on the ground near him. Her tail curled around, brushing against his boots for a moment before she placed it beneath her head, like Dyfri would with a pillow. “A short and simple, 'thank you Ajagara', would be nice.”

“Ajagara? What kind of name is that?” Dyfri bit his lip as that slipped out, his heart leaping in fright at possibly angering her even more. Dyfri crawled back, keeping a comfortable distance between him and her.

“It's my name, and a good one, thank you very much,” Ajagara declared, smiling with so much pride Dyfri pondered if she thought herself to be royalty. “And now you know it. What's yours?”

“You expect me to believe you just want to know my name?” Dyfri spat out the words. Did she really think he was so gullible? Weren't dragons supposed to be smart?

“I'd expect you to have basic manners. You don't even have that?”

Dyfri clenched his jaw at the thought of giving her what she wanted. It didn't sit right with him, having to acquiesce to a stranger’s demands. Nonetheless, it wouldn't exactly be wise to deny her. He knew better than to give his family name; he'd never dare tell a dragon that. But perhaps his first name alone would satisfy her.

“My name's Dyfri.”

“Dyfri? What kind of northerner would have a name like that?” Ajagara cocked her head to the side. It reminded Dyfri of the way his cat looked at him whenever she grew confused. Or annoyed. “Only humans from the Western Lowlands have such names.”

“I'm not from the Northern Coast. I was born and raised in the Western Lowlands.” Dyfri reached up and absentmindedly tugged on his long brown hair. “Even if I don't look like it.”

“Oh. You must've stood out. Brown hair, darker skin, but blue eyes. Ah, you have northern and western blood!” Ajagara beamed with joy at having correctly guessed the truth. “Curious. The two don't often mix together.”

“Sometimes they do.” Dyfri shuffled his feet as he looked back at the entrance. He tried to think of a way to distract Ajagara so he could get out of there. “But if you dare call me a mutt I'll make you regret it, dragon or not,” Dyfri said as his fists clenched, waiting for the inevitable taunting and name calling that always followed.

“What? I'd criticize your manners and scent but what does your lineage have to do with anything?”

Dyfri thought he was dreaming for a moment. He had heard peasants spew that insult when he was a child, and if they could get away with it even when he grew to manhood. Even his father's banner men, though they'd be kind in public, would whisper it under their breath as he walked passed. Even his sister took part. Yet a dragon was the first to refuse such an insult?

“I have some more questions. If you don't mind, of course,” Ajagara said. Her tail continued to move about. He kept thinking of how it moved so similar to Bangfae. If Ajagara was half as strong as his friend, she could suffocate him easily.

“I don't have much choice,” Dyfri muttered under his breath.

“First question. Your boots. They seem well made.” She poked and prodded them with her tail until Dyfri kicked it away. Her eyes narrowed as she continued to inspect them. “Fine leather and stitching. They must've been expensive. How did you get them?”

}My boots? That's what she wants to talk about? Is she going to ask who styles my hair next?}

“My father gave them to me,” Dyfri said as he scooted away until his back hit the cave wall. Did dragons not know about personal space?

“I see, I see. Did he also give you that tunic?” Ajagara leaned in closer, hovering over him. He almost shook as she stared. Was she trying to figure out the best way to swallow him? “I may be a dragon, but I know good craftsmanship when I see it.”

Dyfri glanced down at his clothes. He normally paid them little heed, but the tunic was tailored specifically for him with the finest cotton from the south. He could've done without the dirt and mud defiling it. Yet why would a dragon care for clothing, or know anything about it?

“Aye, he did. What of it?” Dyfri tried to shove Ajagara away, pushing against her snout. As hard as he shoved against her, she didn't budge. He could've sworn he heard her chuckle, like a parent amused by a toddler. He abandoned his efforts and motioned to her and himself. “Some personal space might be nice.”

Ajagara backed off a few feet but still kept her eyes on him. A strange hum emanated from her throat. Her eyes narrowed as Dyfri could see her mind working, analyzing him.

“Can't imagine how difficult it was. Nice boots, a well crafted tunic. Must have been expensive.” Her nostrils flared, breathing in loudly as she kept her eyes locked on him. He brought his hand to his face and took a whiff. Did he really smell that bad? “Hm. You don't smell as wretched as I thought you would. Most humans I've been around smell terrible.”

“What sort of questions are these?” Dyfri asked. “Asking about my clothes? Talking about my scent? I don't know if anyone had asked such ridiculous questions since Santajo, the poet's audience with the king a century ago.”

Couldn't her questions at least have made a bit of sense? Was that really so much to ask? She didn't even bother to answer his own, instead just tapping her claws on the ground. Within a few seconds she stopped, and Dyfri once again heard that strange chuckle.

“So are you going to tell me what noble family you're from, or do I have to trick you into telling me that too?”

“What?!” Dyfri clambered away from her and closer to the cave entrance as quick as he could in his state. He raced to think of a way out of there, thinking of any place he could hide in the forest as he tried to imagine what gave him away.

{How could she know that? I don't have a ring, my armor, anything. All I've given her is my first name!}

“Oh come now, little one. You have fine clothing, you know history, you don't stink and though you're covered in dirt and mud, you're well groomed. Could you say that about any peasants?” Ajagara said, her voice dripping with enough smug satisfaction Dyfri feared he'd drown in it.

He stuttered and stammered as he tried and failed to refute her. He wanted to slap himself upside the head for that. If his father learned how easily Ajagara duped him, he would've been furious. The thought of that made him shiver even more than Ajagara did.

“Now, care to tell me your family name? Or are you going to lie and say you don't have one?”

He looked to the entrance to the cave. No matter how much adrenaline he had coursing through him he'd never outrun a dragon. She'd bite him so fast he'd never know what hit him. Or swallow him whole. Or roast him alive then and there.

Dyfri stood up and stared Ajagara straight in the eye. He wiped away what dirt he could from his tunic, and brushed his hair back behind his ears. He swallowed, and gazed into what could be the last eyes he'd ever see, and spoke with pride through his pained ribs, as he forced his quivering legs to go still.

“I am Dyfri, son of Cryfdar of House Glyn, the Lords of the Western Lowlands,” Dyfri said, his fists clenched as he prepared himself. If he was to die, he'd go with pride.

Ajagara's tail went limp against the ground. She darted forward only to stop inches from his face. Dyfri's heart started beating, loud as a drum. His hands shook against his sides as he waited for her to open her maw and swallow him whole, or for her to roast him like a freshly caught boar.

“Glyn? Like Aerona Glyn? The leader of the Western Lowlands and their armies? That's what you mean?” Ajagara asked.

Dyfri nodded. He never took his eyes away from her mouth. Why did she delay? She must have been getting some sick pleasure out of this, like a pup playing with a piece of meat.

“She's one of the greatest warriors I've ever seen.”

Dyfri thought he was dreaming. He glanced at his arms, expecting to see wings, scales, even a tail growing out of them instead of hands and fingers. That would've made more sense than what he just heard.

“That's it? No flames, no biting, no gnawing?”

“No but I could give you a nibble if you'd like,” she said as she flashed him a short grin again.

“You're... Not what I expected,” Dyfri said, his words coming out as little more than whispers. To hear a dragon speak so kindly about a dragon slayer was as shocking as a snowstorm in summer.

“In case you're hard of hearing you should be able to tell I'm a bit different than most dragons. Maybe if I get to meet Aerona I can convince her of that too.”

Relieved as he was to be standing instead of sliding down Ajagara's throat, the way Ajagara spoke gave him pause. Meet Aerona? Was she stupid? Or did she think humans were as long lived as dragons?

“Aerona's been dead over forty years. I'm her great grandson,” Dyfri said softly. “The Great Scourge ended near a century ago.”

Ajagara's grin vanished faster than fire in a rainstorm. She looked at the ground, her eyes darting back and forth, yet focusing on nothing. She tried to speak, her lips moving but not making a sound. Slowly, she looked back to him, and any joy she had had departed like a thief in the night.

“A century? I've been asleep that long?” Ajagara whispered.

Her voice changed. It wasn't the same smugness Dyfri had heard from her since she had first spoken. To see such a creature change so suddenly didn't fit right with him. If he didn't know better, he would've sworn she sounded sad.

“How many more dragons have you seen? After the war, what happened to my people?” Ajagara came closer like before, her snout almost touching his chest. Her eyes were wide, and he could see the muscles in her jaw clenched tightly.

“After the Great Scourge we thought you were extinct. All I knew of dragons were stories from my grandparents and books,” Dyfri scrambled to say.

“That would mean.... No. No, I won't believe it. If I was able to hide, then so did the others.” Ajagara breathed in deeply again and again, calming herself. She looked at him once more, sporting a hopeful smile. “Are you sure you haven't seen more of my kind? Even a hatchling? An egg?”

“No. You're the only one.”

Her wings slammed against the ground with such force the earth shook. Dyfri barely managed to stay afoot as he struggled to keep his balance. Ajagara gasped and shot her tail forward, grabbing his side. He raised his fists, ready to fight his way out if she tried anything. Yet as soon as he regained his balance she pulled away from him.

“Sorry about that.” She changed demeanor swiftly, suddenly smiling. “I've got a deal for you. Let me talk to you for a while. Tell me what I've missed while I've slept. Then you can go. How does that sound?” Ajagara asked as she once again laid upon the cave floor. “Don't worry, I promise you I won't hurt you.”

“How can I know you'll keep your word? Dragons don't exactly have a good reputation,” Dyfri said, muttering the last bit under his breath.

“Some dragons would say the same about your kind after trying to kill us,” Ajagara said with a hiss. “But if I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have bothered to save you.”

Dyfri rubbed his brow and sighed. It wasn't as if he had much choice, and though he didn’t fully trust her she did have a point. He stood up and paced a moment before he leaned against the cave wall as he glanced at the sunlit entrance, his ticket to freedom, and then back to Ajagara. “What do you want to know?”

Hours passed as Ajagara peppered Dyfri with questions. They spoke about the state of the kingdom, from the Southern Lamias being practically independent from their Northern kin, minotaur attacks on human traders, to Princess Jeong-hi of the Northern Lamias paying nothing more than lip service to the human king. After a while he began to tap his foot as his patience grew thin.

“I must know. Does...what's their name again? Brasak, is it? Are the current lords of House Brasak as rotund as they were in Aerona's time?” Ajagara asked. By that point she had resumed resting her head on her tail.

“Still fat as ever? Aye. Yet so long as they're loyal they can be as fat as they wish.” Dyfri looked back out of the cave. By then the sky had been painted red by the setting sun. He guessed within an hour the forest would be blanketed in darkness. “Have I indulged you enough?”

“Not exactly a patient one, are you?” Ajagara said as she poked her head out of the cave, looking up to the treetops. “But yes. We can go.”

“We? No. You're not coming with me.”

As helpful as a dragon could be, he needed to move quietly. If he was to get to Hye's keep and get the word out, he couldn't exactly have Ajagara follow him. With her stomping around, he might as well have carried a bonfire behind him, he'd be spotted so quickly. Besides, how could anyone be truly trusted after holding another against their will for hours?

“Don't be stupid. You won't last long on your own” Ajagara claimed.

“I'll be fine. Do you smell any minotaurs nearby?” Dyfri asked as he looked out at the forest. Ajagara shook her head. “See? I'll be fine on my own.” He stepped out of the cave and looked up the out into the trees ahead.

“What about me?” Ajagara's head snaked around in front of him so swiftly Dyfri nearly walked into it as she stepped outside. “You expect me to stay in this cave alone?”

“I don't know what to expect of you.” Dyfri looked out into the sky. If he told her to stay put, she'd fly off. And if she was to fly, it might as well had been somewhere he'd know about. “Go Northwest, off of the mainland. There are uninhabited islands with plenty of fish. You should be safe there.”

“Oh? You're actually concerned with my safety?” Ajagara asked with a smile. She chuckled again, making Dyfri step back as he caught sight of those dagger like teeth once more. “I'm touched.”

“I care about my safety and the people’s. What's best for you and us happen to coincide.”

Her smile disappeared as fast as it came. Dyfri barely caught her mouth drooping into a frown before she turned away, her tail nearly knocking his legs out from underneath him as she went back to the cave. She stopped and looked at him one last time, speaking quietly.

“Aerona would be disappointed with you.”

“What would you know of her?” Dyfri said.

He stepped closer to the cave, his fists clenched. She dared to lecture him on what Aerona would want? Not even those who called him mutt dared to assume what she'd think. He hoped she'd try to explain herself, giving him a chance to lecture her, but she simply slinked further into the darkness, out of his sight.

{She doesn't know what she's talking about. Why did I bother to entertain her at all?}

Dyfri shook his head, groaning a moment before he looked into the forest. There were more important matters than a momentary annoyance like her. Biting his lip to keep himself from groaning as every step pained his ribs, he went off into the forest.