#maybe Queen's Thief I could manage that

[theriu]

Hey this sounds fun! :D

Send me 10 characters and I will tell you who I would…

Marry

Drink tea with

Party with

Kiss

Go out on a date with

Push down the stairs

Slap

Invade the dreams of

Take a nap with

Rob

[just-some-random-blogger]

Losing Dogs

Neither you or Aegon wanted to get married. Neither you or Aegon wanted to marry each other. But at some point, you figured you should make the most of what you had, and so you offer your husband a deal he cannot refuse.

Aegon Targaryen x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, arranged marriage/loveless marriage, smut (piv, virginity loss, rough/loveless sex) DD:DNE, alcoholism, violence, suicide/suicidal thoughts & ideation, mentions of domestic/child abuse, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, aegon's mommy issues, insecurities, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ... i had something to say about this fic but i forgot... maybe ill remember later???? edit: i did not remember. i thought of mitski while entitling this so go play i bet on losing dogs ig?

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @azperja @sloanexx @risefallrise

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

Aegon only truly understood what this meant the day he was married and he was forbidden to drink a drop of alcohol.

As if it wasn't painful enough that he was going to be married to a complete stranger from some house he's never fucking heard of, he was erratic and uneasy the whole day because of the withdrawal. He loathes the preparation, the ceremony, the fucking pageantry of it all.

He thinks it was worse that you seemed to be so chipper the entire time. You smiled with a halo, skin shining with the light. You also seemingly did no wrong, judging by the praises you received from his mother and grandfather. But, who was he kidding, of course they fucking loved you, they chose you to be his prison keeper.

You did not press him once, not when you were preparing for the ceremony, not when you were at the feast, not even after the Queen encouraged you to dance.

Anyone with eyes could see from how he slumped on his chair during dinner that Aegon would rather die than circle around the room to this grating noise echoing in the chamber.

The band begins to play another song and another round of dancing ensues.

He stares at the food on the table. Oh, to be a suckling pig.

The relief that coursed through him when he could finally leave was enough to knock him out. Except, he really wanted, no, needed a drink.

He crashes on his bed, belly down, and reaches for the cabinet door on his bedside table. He feels for his bottle, hand knocking into the corners of the compartment, but he sits up when he finds nothing.

He growls in frustration upon realizing this was definitely his mother's doing. Thief!

"I managed a cup."

Aegon struggles to look over his shoulder from his position. He rolls on his back as you walk to the side of the bed.

He stares at you. You offer a glass holding burgundy liquid. Your voice is soft and kind as you explain, "your mother would suspect me if I took a whole bottle."

Aegon pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. He gulps at the wine you were offering.

Sure, he may not be the brightest, but anyone could tell this scene was the epitome of ulterior motives. Aegon leans on his thighs, "why are you doing this?"

You stare a moment. You clutch the cup in both hands and examine it. Again, your voice is gentle, "you are clearly in torment. It hurts my heart."

His eye twitches.

I see. It seems you were a fucking saint.

Aegon rips the glass out of your hands, some of the wine spills over. He downs the contents in one go, then chucks the glass across the room once he finished.

He looks back at you, glaring with watery eyes. He was exhausted, he was angry, and he wanted you to know it. But you don't flinch at the sound of the glass breaking. You didn't flinch at all when he showed aggression. Why didn't you flinch?

You press your lips and sigh. You step towards him and reach out.

He nervously straightens up and tilts his head back as you approach. His breath hitches when your warm hand touches his cheek. He blinks rapidly.

"It's been a long day. Would you like me to help you change?"

Again, his eye twitches.

And then he realizes what you mean.

Ah. So, this is what you wanted?

He releases a breath, eyes lowering. Your face falls into a slight frown.

He thinks about it for a moment. I mean, sex was sex and he was game. It didn't matter how he performed, his completion was all that mattered, really. And you were pretty enough, albeit irritatingly good.

When you stroke his hair, Aegon pulls at your skirts, causing you to squeak and topple, hands flying to his shoulders for support. Your faces are inches apart. He pulls you down until you have no other choice than to sit on his lap.

You can smell the remnants of the wine he just drank on his breath. Aegon brings his face closer to yours, and you let out a soft 'hmp'. You mutter, "I gather you don't want to change, but want to get out of your clothes."

He narrows his eyes as you shift on his lap and undo the buttons by his chest. He mutters dumbly, "this is what you wanted."

With knit brows, you retort, "I've not yet told you what I wanted." You shift on his lap again as you peel his top off. Amidst it, he asks, "what do you want?"

You grunt after ridding him of his top. You fold it in your arms then set it aside on the bed. You turn back to him. Aegon's breath hitches when you fondle with strings of his undershirt. He watches your lips as you mumble, "I want you to give me a ride on your dragon."

He furrows his brows. But that's what he just said.

You stand, only to lift your skirt and take your place back on his lap. This time, you straddle him.

Aegon gulps, hands coming to your hips like a magnet. He feels you grind on him; shaky breaths leave his lips in response. His hands scratch up your back and a moan escapes him when your nails trace his collarbones.

"Allow me one trip on Sunfyre, and in return, I'll be your magic lamp," you whisper, taking one of his hands, bringing it to the side of your ribs, "you may rub me where you like-"

His heart skips when you kiss his cheek.

"-and I will grant you all your wishes."

Aegon ticks.

The next moment, he pushes you down on the bed. He doesn't bother getting either of you naked, nor does he prepare you at all in fact. Thankfully, you were already wet.

You don't have the opportunity to ask him to be gentle, to explain you were a bride after all, and it was your wedding night.

Aegon grips your skirts as he fucks you like he means to prove a point. He snaps his hips roughly into you to assert dominance, to exemplify control. Sure, you offered yourself to him, but he was the one doing the work, and you were the one beneath him.

In truth, the pace he set gave you more pain rather than pleasure. And with how pent up he was, the rough tempo he set burnt him out way too quickly before it could make any of you feel good. And when he begins to lag, you start to feel good.

You notice this change and rub your nose against his. He recoils, unused to affection when fucking. It snaps him back into an aggressive trance.

You yelp. Aegon convinced himself it was a sound of bliss.

You kiss his jaw and work your way to his ear, hoping to calm him down. He tenses at the feel of your tongue on his lobe. It stokes flames in his belly and makes him involuntarily roll his hips slower to focus on the attention you're giving. In return, his pace is just enough for him to hit that spot that makes you throw your head back.

Aegon is startled by the scratchy groan that leaves your throat. He finds himself lifting his head to spectate, but you pull him into you by the nape and groan, "like that. Please- gods - that feels good."

His brows tense and he rolls his hips again, finding the same reaction.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, uncaring of how hot and sweaty you were getting. In the heat of the moment, you reach for his lips, needing them, needing something to wrap your own on.

Aegon kisses you. He kisses you with a strange twinge in his chest. He kisses you until he has to pull away and reposition himself to catch his building climax.

In a second, he's back to his fuck-loving self, only self-serving and lustful. As he gazes upon your writhing body, catching the beads of sweat on your skin, the concentration on your face, and the way you chant his name as you part your legs for him, he's overcome by another spirit. To watch you break, to watch you coil and collapse around him felt just as urgent as his need to come.

And so Aegon rubs your clit and forces you to peak first; you do it so well he curses loudly and comes after.

He lays on top of you for a moment, the overwhelming need to be held ripples through his body. He recalls how his whores shoo him away after he's done fucking them though. Before you can cradle him in your arms, he rolls off you.

You close your legs and and watch him strip himself and sequentially change. You watch him get back in bed and bring himself underneath the covers. He goes to sleep.

He fucking goes to sleep.

You feel hollow after this, but tell yourself it's nothing personal. You repeat this as you, yourself, get up and change, sequentially sleeping too. Or at least you try. You have fight the urge to cry for hours before you do.

The next morning, you bring up dragon riding to Aegon, and disappointed as you are, you are unsurprised to find that he was unwilling to give you such a thing.

It was a plain thing you were asking for, you explain. And it's exactly why he doesn't want to do it. It's clearly some trick, something to trap him, something he's going to regret. It was probably some ploy orchestrated by his mother.

Oh gods, he thinks, it's worse. It's a bonding experience so you can make him into your puppet. Fuck. No.

So, he does what he does best, and makes an excuse, "I don't feel like riding today. I'm still exhausted from the festivities."

You purse your lips and nod, "that's understandable. Would you like for me to get you something?"

Wait. You weren't going to argue about him not keeping his end of the deal?

You seem to catch this, considering your response and the way you take his hand. You place his palm on your chest. He can feel your pulse quicken as you mutter, "I am your magic lamp, husband. I wish to please you. I will prove this until you trust me enough to grant me a ride on dragonback."

He narrows his eyes, "you would grant me wishes, all in return for a ride on Sunfyre?"

You smile softly at him, "in return for respite, yes."

He doesn't trust your smile.

"I want to visit the Grey Cliffs. I have for a years now. I went there once as a child and long to go again."

"Why?" he knits his brows at your explanation, "what's there?"

You lower his hand and rub his skin, "respite, my prince."

Aegon pulls his hand away.

Very well. If that is what you want, then he will wear your wishes dry until you find it no longer worth the trouble.

Aegon wishes on his lamp everyday, and his wife sequentially plays entertainer, jester, servant, and slave.

He makes you bring a bottle of wine with you everywhere, and pour him a cup when he wishes. He loathes how you seem unbothered by it. He loathes how you don't even correct a visiting Lord who mistakes you for a cupbearer and simply serve him some wine. The Lord is mortified when he realizes you are his wife, a fucking princess. Aegon hates how you tell the man you were unbothered because you spent your whole life being a cupbearer to your father anyway.

He makes you do trivial tasks as well, sometimes tasks meant for more than one person at a time, and yet you still manage to do them, annoyingly better than the maids. When he demanded you cook him a full course meal, you did so all by yourself, and had the servants looking at you like you were some goddess.

He ripped a hole in his clothes then made you mend it. You covered the hole so seamlessly that he poked a bigger one right in front of you. And even then you don't give him the satisfaction of getting angry. You tell him you will embroider something on top of the hole and he storms off. He overhears you telling the servants, who applaud your level-headedness, that you were used to angry men, because your father was just the same.

You use each of these moments to somehow tell him you were the perfect wife and he had to oblige your stupid request at some point.

But then he found your flaw.

Aegon asked you to play the harpsichord for him, and you told him you did not know how. The woman who knew all did not know something? He would then proceed to hang this over your head. When he asked you for food, he'd tell you how much better it'd taste if he had entertainment. If he asked you to do something physically taxing for him, he's say that he wouldn't have asked you to do it, had you known how to play his 'favorite' instrument. He would use this as the reason why he could never bring you to Grey Cliffs.

It was all fun and games, but then you had to snitch, hadn't you?

"What are you doing to that poor girl!" Queen Alicent barked, making his ears ring.

Aegon groans from where he lies in bed. His mother rips the blankets off him, making him wake in a sour mood.

"She is your wife!" Alicent yells, "not your slave! Fine, you wish her to do tasks for you, tasks for your betterment. But to insult her standing by treating her like a maid is beneath a prince, Aegon!"

Aegon feels his throat tighten at the sight of his angry mother's face, "she is my wife," he growls, "I do with her as I please."

She strikes his cheek.

Aegon's head whips to the side. He doesn't have the energy to look back at her.

"You will no longer parade her as a cupbearer. I will have it decreed you are not ever served a drop of wine if you don't."

Alicent leaves after this. Aegon's anger explodes when the door closes.

He screams and rips at his hair. He kicks furniture around and eventually drops to the floor, exhausted, furious, and hurt. This was all your fault.

He screams again and claws the tears on his face. He slowly exhales through tight lips. His cheek is hot with saltwater. Who was he joking, this was all him.

This was all Aegon's doing.

His breathing is impeded by snot. He walks over to his window and stares at the ground below. If he jumps head first, not even the best maester in Westeros could fix him.

Before he can lean on the ledge, he is paralyzed in his spot by the sound of the door opening.

"I did not know she would be angry with you," you say.

Aegon looks back.

You see his red eyes and wet skin. He is a mirror to your younger self. You feel sick to your stomach. You try to explain, "I only asked if she could find a harpsichord teacher. I did not realize she would take offense in wanting to learn to play for you."

Aegon's heart aches at your naïve response. You were a stupid, perfect wife, and he, a stupid, petulant husband.

"I'm better off dead," he mumbles, looking back out the window. The call of the fall felt inviting, "want to push me, wife?"

You don't respond.

Aegon looks back at you, and suddenly you're only inches away. He tries to evade you, but you manage to catch his hand.

"We could jump together."

"What?"

Your face is blank. You part your lips, and for a moment, your eyes seem desperate, but then it's gone. You sigh, "dying is quite lonely," looking down, "I could keep you company."

Aegon stares at you. Tears stream down his face. "You're mad," he sniffles, yanking his hand away.

He walks over to his bed and collapses on it. He wraps himself in a blanket and feels sorry for himself, and angry at you for suggesting such a thing. Even now you want to be perfect by dying with him?

"I am," you mutter.

Aegon watches as you walk over to him. You sit on the floor beside his bed and look at your hands as you rub them.

"I cannot play the harpsichord, because my father does not like noise," you explain, "I was not allowed to make a sound or else I would be punished."

Aegon covers his head with a blanket but keeps his face visible, "he beat you, didn't he?"

You look at him, eyes melancholy, but still, he is the only one crying, "he beat everyone."

Aegon does not respond.

"I can sing though."

His brow raises, "how can you sing?"

"I would practice whenever he was gone, and sing for my mother in secret. It made her happy... happy enough."

He knew there was more to this confession, but he was too tired to ask about it, too tired to shed more tears.

"Would you like me to sing for you?"

"No."

"..."

"..."

"Would you like me to hold you?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

You stand from where you sat and get on the edge of the bed. Aegon watches as you slowly lie beside him. You bring an arm over him and pull him close. Aegon closes his eyes as you bring him into your chest.

You hold him until he falls asleep. Later that night, he asks you to hold him again. He also asks you to sing to him.

Aegon nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He wraps his arms around your torso, digging his fingers between your flesh and the bed. Your hushed voice reverberates in the bedroom, the song you sing is haunting and soothing. The vibrations from your chest lull him to sleep. You feel wetness pool by your clavicle but you make no note of it.

Aegon asks you to hold him the next morning after breaking fast. He asks you to stay with him in bed and to sing to him some more. When you have to leave his side, he asks to join you and waits until he can have you in his arms again.

Aegon becomes your shadow, and follows you around, under the promise of getting to share in your embrace. As you read and review letters or ledgers, your seat becomes Aegon's lap. He sleeps against you while you work without a fuss, cheek pressed against your back, arms fastened around your waist.

Sometimes, he notices the line that forms between your brows while you read and at some point, asks about it. You explain what causes it, and he is unmoved, as he is uninterested in politics that stress you. But when you read out to him, he finds comfort in your voice and asks you to read some. He falls asleep to your calm droning of circumstances he could not care less about. He groans and groggily awakens when you stop. He mumbles against your skin that you continue, pleadingly so.

When you had to leave the Keep for business, Aegon insisted that he joined you. When you brushed his cheek and explained to him why he could not go and that you would not be long, Aegon pushed you away and stormed off. You left without him anyway, and the treachery he felt was so great, he realized then how he could no longer go day to day without you. What was there to do, if you were not there?

And so Aegon desperately rubs his magic lamp and wishes upon you.

He wishes that you never leave without him again once you return.

He wishes that you promise to no longer make plans without him.

He traps you beneath him on your shared bed and wishes to be inside you. He kisses you and wishes to see you completely bared to him.

Aegon's mind is dizzy as he gazes upon the glory of your skin. He kisses your thighs, your hips, your breast, your lips.

Aegon wishes to surrender to you. He wishes that you undress him. He wishes to pull you on his body like a blanket. He wishes to see you take control. He wishes to see you cast your eyes upon him and lay your weight on his body.

He wishes to see you use him, to take what you need from him, to pleasure yourself, and to make him yours. He squeezes your thighs desperately when you moan out his name. This was much more maddening that what he imagined it would be.

He wishes to feel you come undone around him. He wishes he could forever feel the pleasure he did when he comes right after you do.

He wishes to hold you after. And when he holds you, when you lay on his chest and kiss him there, he wishes to never leave this moment ever again. He wishes to sing to you like you've sung to him.

"What are your plans tomorrow," Aegon asks as he draws nothings on your back.

You lift your head from his chest. He looks at you. You smile, "whatever you wish them to be."

He rubs your back and smiles, "I wish to take you to the Grey Cliffs."

Your expression drops, "what?"

He raises a brow at your reaction. You shift on your place. You straddle him again.

He looks up at you, noticing the line between your brows. He rubs your thighs, "you've granted me all my wishes. It's time I grant you yours." He shifts on his elbows and sits himself up, "it's time you meet my mount and-"

"We don't have to," you cut him off, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Aegon examines your expression. He listens to you sigh.

"I'd like to keep you-- wish to keep you..." you correct yourself, pushing him back down.

He looks up at you, feeling your hands rake up his body.

"...just like this," you finish, eyes solemn, lips curving into a soft smile, "I've not felt a thing like this in my entire life."

Aegon takes one of your hands and places it on his cheek. He whispers it like a secret, "neither have I."

You lean down to kiss him, "I wish to keep like this."

He kisses you back.

He is blindsided by how his wishes came to bite him in the arse. It's all crashing down on him. Suddenly, he wishes he didn't actually do any of those things with you.

He most of all wishes he heard you wrong. He wishes you didn't repeat yourself when he stupidly said, "what?"

"I'm with child," you speak slower, less excited yet excited still.

Aegon wishes you didn't look so excited. He wishes he fucking pulled out, but gods, you felt so good-- you feel so good around him, he felt so good inside you.

He realized the next moment, it couldn't be helped. You were going to have to bear his spawn at one point or another. He wishes you didn't have to. He wishes his seed wouldn't take completely. He wishes you don't take it to term. He wishes he won't have to be a father. Fuck.

He realizes he's been too quiet and you were waiting for a response from him. Your face began to twist. Your smile fades.

"Congratulations," Aegon musters. He feels like he swallowed a metal ball. His eyes wander to your belly. He mumbles mindlessly, "I suppose."

Your face falls.

Aegon looks back at you. Your face is devoid of any semblance of the glow it normally holds. You look sick. You feel sick.

"I see," you say, unintentionally allowing him to hear your voice break. Aegon's brows furrow at it.

He shakes his head, "you will be a great mother," he chuckles dryly, "you mother me so well."

You offer him a smile, but Aegon can see how disconnected it was from your eyes. You say, "thank you."

When you leave him after this, he wishes he hadn't said a word. He wishes he just left it at congratulations. He wishes he just pretended like the idea of having a child didn't mortify him and make him sick to his stomach. He wishes he wasn't so ill-suited to be a father.

Ageon no longer wishes for anything after this.

He no longer wishes to hold you, though he so badly wanted to. He no longer wishes to hear you sing, nor does he wish to hear you read to him. He no longer wishes to be around you, though his body urged him to follow you around like the lost soul he was.

He wishes he didn't wonder what you were doing at every moment of the day. He so desperately wishes to rid you from his mind completely that he drowns himself in his first and only true love, alcohol.

Fuck. He wishes he hadn't taken this route to his room. He wishes you hadn't taken this route to wherever it was you were going. He wishes he just turned around and fled like the coward he was, because then, you wouldn't have spoken to him.

"Husband," you curtsey.

Aegon stiffens and uncomfortably avoids your eyes.

You catch it, feeling your chest tighten painfully. You clear your throat and take a deep breath to steel yourself, "I thought you should know that I will be travelling."

Aegon looks at you.

"I have a ship ready and I'll be visiting the Grey Cliffs. Do not wait up for me."

His face falls. He opens his mouth, but doesn't have an opportunity to speak.

"I thought you should also know that I am no longer carrying."

His eyes widen.

"It's not an uncommon occurrence the first few months," you say simply, "I suppose the gods do not wish me to be a mother."

Aegon feels like a murderer. He wants to say something, to apologize, to comfort you, but he can't. He's too taken aback to do a single thing.

He turns into stone when you take his hand. You step forward and place his palm on your chest. Your heart is slow as you speak, "you won't have to worry about anything anymore, Aegon. Today is the end of our shared torment."

Aegon's stomach drops when you kiss him.

His eyes are glassy. You pull away before he can kiss you back. He wants to hold you, but the sadness in your eyes reminds him he is undeserving. You kiss his wrist, "goodbye, my love. I love you."

His heart thumps as you walk away.

Aegon is manic. He basks in the mess he's made and feels crushed by it all.

He finally acts after wasting so much time feeling sorry for himself. You were long out of his sight by the time he started running. This is why he headed to the dragonpit and got on Sunfyre.

"WAIT!" he screams, just as your boat leaves the dock.

Aegon watches as you run to the edge of the boat. He lands Sunfyre and runs as far to the edge of the docks as he could.

"Aegon-"

"Take me with you!" he pleads, "let me be the one to take you to where you must go!"

You look back. The ship stops. The crew brings down a boat and on it, you are rowed back to the dock.

He crushes you in his arms once he reaches you.

"Aegon," you mutter.

"Forgive me," he shudders, "I... I wish you let me do this for you."

"Aegon," your voice croaks. You push him away, "go home."

His heart drops. He breaks away to look at you. Your words feel like a stab at his thorax. It was presumptuous of him to assume you'd want him back, but it doesn't kill him inside any less.

"I've come to realize this is a trip I must go on myself," you mutter.

He shakes his head, "no. Please." He motions an arm out to his mount, "one wish. That I grant you one wish before you throw me away forever is... is--"

Your throat constricts at his words. Tears rush down your eyes, "I'm not throwing you away--"

"Please," he squeezes both your hands in his, "please, let me do this for you."

The flight to the Grey Cliffs is quiet, save for the whoosh of winds and the roars of the golden dragon you both rode. You always imagined it would be freeing, but only now did you know how it freeing it truly felt to fly. You knew now you'd forever chase the euphoric crush of air against your skin.

Aegon, who sat behind you, looks at your form as you outstretch your arms and close your eyes. Your body presses against him, and in this moment, he is unable to hold back from wrapping an arm around you and sparing a kiss on your shoulder. You are snapped out of your trance because of this.

The Grey Cliffs are dark and gloomy when you get there. Aegon realizes when you land that it got its name from the weather conditions.

He helps you down and surveys the area, trying to make out which part of this drear land was so special to you that you wished to go here.

You catch his expression and squeeze his hand.

Aegon turns to you.

You give a solemn look, "the view is better on the edge."

Aegon strokes Sunfyre's cheek, commanding him to stay before you lead him by the hand to the edge of the cliff. Once you get there, he feels queasy looking down at the crashing waves far beneath him. In contrast, you seem comforted by the view. His brows furrow at the deep breath you give out.

When you look at him, his stomach feels it, the comfort you felt upon witnessing the violent waves. Whatever it was that compelled you to this place was the same force that compelled him to kiss you.

He reaches out for your cheek, his other hand coming to you back. He pulls you close. His heart twinges when you stop him from kissing you.

"Aegon-"

"Forgive me," he cuts, "I beg."

You gawk at him. He brushes your hair which was wildly flinging with the breeze.

"You must know by now that I am craven. I lack the spine and the wit to be of any use to you."

Your eyes water. Your lips quiver.

"I would be a hopeless father, worse than my own, no doubt."

"Aegon," you babble as sobs overtake you.

Aegon, himself, succumbs to tears. He wipes the ones streaming down your face before taking a breath, "but you made me feel a love I do not deserve."

You swallow a heavy lump in your throat.

"I love you," he confesses.

"No," you pierce his heart. You shake your head in disagreement, "Aegon, this is a mistake. Bringing you here was a mistake."

"No!" he blurts louder than needed, "this was a choice," he looks down, "I choose to rip my insides out for you to devour. I am miserable, much more in the heat of your hate, but most of all without you."

His downturned eyes land on your face when you grab his wrists. You croak, "I do not hate you."

Aegon is not relieved by the admission, but he chooses to believe you mean it. He smiles softly, "good."

"But I do hate this life I live."

He clenches his jaw. Of course you do.

"You saved me," you press a hand on his cheek, taking your turn to wipe his tears, "even if for a moment."

"I made you miserable."

You chuckle. The sound makes his heart skip.

"You filled my life with purpose," you smile softly, "even when you did not mean to."

Aegon knits his brows deeply and takes your hands. He brings them to his lips and kisses them.

"But accidents happen. You must remember that accidents happen all the time."

Aegon shakes his head, "this is not an accident. Believe me when I say I chose to do this, I- ... I choose to love you."

You sob and turn to your feet.

"Please... believe me."

You sniffle and nod, slowly looking up at him, "I believe you."

You lunge into his arms and seal him into a tight hug. He hugs you back like it's his only way of surviving.

A crack of thunder startles Sunfyre. He becomes restless and steals away Aegon's attention, panicked that he might flee and leave them here.

He pulls away and takes a step towards her. He holds your hand, urging you to follow, "we should go before it rains."

You hug him from behind and press your face into his back, "thank you for taking me on Sunfyre."

"It was a long time coming."

"I've always wondered what it would be like to fly. And now that I know how peaceful it is, I'm ready to fly one last time."

He turns to you as you slowly come to his side. You hold his hand. He looks at you as you turn to Sunfyre. He promises, "I will take you on dragonback as many times as you wish."

You smile, but your eyes are fixed on his dragon. You release his hand and wrap your arms around yourself, "he is beautiful. You must never tire looking at him."

Aegon gazes upon Sunfyre. He takes in his golden scales and has newfound appreciation.

You take a step back.

"He is. To be honest, it's been long since I, myself, took him out of the pit. He must enjoy this day as much as you do."

"Aegon, you must understand that what I have to say has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me."

Aegon turns to you. He watches you tighten your arms around yourself. You must be cold. He rubs your shoulders.

You shake your head and turn him back to his dragon, "look at Sunfyre."

He knits his brows, "I'm looking."

"For so long," you release him, "I've wanted to fly free, to find my peace here in the cliffs. This was before I even met you." You point at the golden dragon, "I choose to love you too, but accidents happen, like if Sunfyre were to fly away, and you were to be left here alone."

Aegon stares at his ride for a moment as you lower your hand. He tries to makes sense of your words, but he cannot for the life of him understand.

He sighs, "what accident? Why do you keep-"

Aegon is flooded by confusion when he turns and finds you nowhere behind him. A split second later, he lets a horrified scream and the fear that claws into him makes his knees buckle. He crumbles to the ground and crawls to the edge of the cliff. He screams so loud that Sunfyre roars back and comes towards him.

Aegon watches as the red seafoam bubbles at the foot of the cliff. He watches as the crimson waves slowly slosh back into its original tint.

Rain begins to pour, and his tears taste no longer salty.

Was this the flying you ached for? Was this the relief you sought?

When he returns to King's Landing, dripping wet, he breaks down in front of his mother, weeping as he clutched his skirts.

Queen Alicent is obviously disturbed. She instructs her servants to get his son a change of clothes and some towels. She looks down at him, "what's happened? What's wrong, Aegon?"

"An accident-" he barely manages to say, "there's been an accident."

"An accident?!"

Aegon's mind goes blank. A bitter taste

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

[swrkn]

𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Owen x g/n reader

Genre ; sfw , fluff

Author note ; english is not my first language so i apologise if they are any mistakes !!

⇨ Attention

Owen memorizes everything about you—the way you take your coffee, your favorite songs, even your sizes for gifts. He notices the smallest details, from the way your eyes light up at certain things to the exact words you use when you’re excited. It’s like he keeps a mental catalog just to make you feel special.

One day, you casually mention that you love a specific brand of chocolate, but it’s hard to find. Days later, on a random Tuesday, he shows up with it, saying, “I saw this and thought of you.” Or maybe it’s your birthday, and he surprises you with a perfectly fitting jacket in your favorite color. You ask how he knew your size, and he just shrugs, “You mentioned it once when we were shopping months ago.” It’s the little things, like texting you good luck before a big meeting because he remembers the exact date you told him about it, or knowing which toppings to leave off your pizza without asking.

⇨ Clothes thief

Owen is the type of guy who will let you steal his clothes without a second thought. You grab his hoodie one day, and instead of asking for it back, he just smiles and says, “It looks better on you anyway.”But deep down, he loves seeing you wrapped up in something of his, it’s his way of keeping you close, even when he’s not around.

It’s a chilly evening, and you’re at Owen’s place, shivering slightly as the two of you watch a movie. Without a word, he gets up, grabs his oversized hoodie from the chair, and hands it to you. “Here, wear this,” he says, and you pull it on, immediately feeling warmer. A few days later, you’re heading out, still wearing the hoodie. “You know, i’m kind of stealing this,” you tease. He grins. “It’s not stealing if I’m letting you keep it,” he replies. The next time you see him, you’re wearing his favorite T-shirt. He raises an eyebrow and laughs. “At this rate, I’ll have to start borrowing my own clothes from you.”

⇨ Adorable

He’s the type of guy who finds every single thing you do cute. You could be struggling to open a jar, your face scrunched up in concentration, and he’d chuckle, saying, “Adorable.”Even when you’re just sitting there, minding your own business, he’ll look over and smile. “You’re so cute when you’re focused,” he’ll say, like it’s the most natural observation in the world. No matter what you’re doing,laughing, ranting, or even sneezing, Owen somehow manages to see the charm in it all.

You’re standing in the kitchen, hair in a messy bun, wearing his hoodie, and struggling to reach a jar on the top shelf. You’re on your tiptoes, stretching as far as you can, when Owen walks in and leans against the doorway, grinning. “Need some help?” he asks, but he doesn’t move. You give him a playful glare. “Are you just going to stand there?” He laughs. “Sorry, you’re just so cute when you’re determined.” Later, you’re sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone with a concentrated frown. He plops down next to you and says, “You’re even cute when you’re serious.” You roll your eyes. “Is there anything I do that isn’t cute to you?” He pretends to think for a second, then smirks. “Nope, not a thing.”

⇨ Nighty Night

Owen is a drama queen who won’t sleep without your goodnight—he’s very dramatic about it. If you forget to text, he’ll send messages like, “So I guess this is how I go…alone, in the dark, without a goodnight from you.” If you call him out, he’ll laugh and say, “What? I can’t sleep knowing you’ve abandoned me like this.”

It’s late, and you’re about to drift off to sleep when you realize you haven’t sent Owen his goodnight text yet. Before you can grab your phone, it vibrates. It’s a message from him: “How could you? I’m just here, alone in the dark, waiting for my nightly dose of affection. I guess I’ll never sleep again…” You roll your eyes and quickly type back, “Goodnight, Owen. Sleep well.” A second later, he responds with a dramatic voice note: “Ah, sweet relief! I can now rest in peace, knowing you didn’t forget me. Sweet dreams, my love.” You laugh, shaking your head, but secretly, you kind of love how much he cares.

⇨ Always Spoils You

Owen will buy everything you want without any complaints, and money will never be a problem. Whether it’s that cute pair of shoes you’ve been eyeing for weeks or a random gadget you mentioned in passing, he’ll pull out his card without hesitation.

You’re window shopping together, casually glancing at items you can’t quite justify buying. You stop in front of a boutique display, eyeing a handbag that’s way out of your budget but still so perfect. Owen notices and nudges you. “Go ahead,” he says with a grin. “You’ve been talking about that bag for weeks. Just get it.” You laugh nervously. “I don’t know… it’s kind of expensive.” Without hesitation, Owen pulls out his wallet and hands you the cash. “If you love it, why wait?” he says, completely unbothered. You try to protest, but he simply winks. “It’s nothing. I just want you to have what you want.” A few days later, the bag arrives at your door, and he just shrugs when you thank him. “I told you,if you want it, it’s yours.”

⇨ The family favourite

Your parents love Owen so much. From the moment they meet him, he charms them with his easygoing nature and thoughtful gestures. He remembers to ask how they’re doing, listens when they talk, and always pitches in when it comes to family events or dinners. When your parents ask about your relationship, they’re all smiles. “We love Owen,” they say. “He’s just so kind, and he makes you happy.” You can’t help but agree.

It’s a Sunday afternoon, and you’re having dinner with your family when Owen arrives, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers for your mom. He gives her a warm hug, and she smiles, clearly pleased. “I thought you might like these,” he says, offering the flowers. “I remembered you mentioned you loved peonies.” Your mom’s eyes light up. “Oh, Owen, you’re such a thoughtful young man.” Later, as you’re sitting on the couch, your dad leans over and says quietly, “We really like him, you know. He’s got a good heart.” You smile, feeling grateful. Owen has a way of making everyone feel special, and today, it’s clear your parents are completely smitten.

✵

[slvt4felix]

♡ I See the Light ♡

Pairing -> lostprince!felix x thief!reader WC -> ~6,700 words Includes -> tangled!au, violence? (frying pan incident), reader is a criminal, fem!reader, lowkey abusive and manipulative "mother", kidnapping, magic, Bbokari as Pascal Summary -> After stealing a particularly precious item from the King and Queen, the royal guards push you deep into the woods during an exhilarating chase. You stumble across an interesting tower and start to climb, unaware of what you will come across once you reach the inside. Or rather, who you will come across and how this unique person will completely change the trajectory of your life. Author's Note -> I am like the biggest fan of Tangled. It's my all time favorite Disney movie. And when I think of Felix the first thing that comes to mind is sunshine and I feel like he is so Rapunzel coded. So yeah... don't mind that this fic is literally just all my favorite things combined. I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also this was only supposed to be one part, but I'm slowly starting to realize I'm really bad at writing short stories... so this story will definitely be multiple parts!

Masterlist ♡ Next Part

You pant, desperately trying to catch your breath as your legs move faster than they ever have before. They are starting to ache, along with your feet, your lungs, and just about everywhere else. But you can't stop, not right now. Not with the heavy footsteps just a few feet behind you and horses loud in the distance.

You stole something. Well, technically you have stolen many things, but what can you say? You were an orphan and never given the chance to make money more nobly. And this time, the object was just something you couldn't pass up.

You keep running, eyes trained directly in front of you. You desperately want to look behind you to see how much time you have, see just how much danger you're in, but the adrenaline and fear have you locked in. You won't stop, won't glance back at the angry guards until you manage to get some headway.

Your boot-clad feet heavily trample the ground underneath you, damaging the delicate blades of grass and petals of flowers that seem to multiply by the second. If only you were able to look down, you would notice the nature changing subtly underneath you. The rocky area you were previously in changed into a thick forest, covered in clover and wildflower.

If you weren't in this situation, perhaps you would've taken the moment to admire it. To take in your surroundings, breathing in the beauty of nature. But again, now's not the time. Maybe one day you will have the ability to stop and smell the flowers, but today there are more important matters at hand.

You hear a twig snap behind you and an unsettling crash. You instantly realize it to be a branch in the path that you had just jumped over. Luckily enough, after years of training, running, and stealing you can navigate your way through many terrains if needed. However, it seems like the guards behind you weren't so lucky. You swiftly turn your head and find exactly what you expect. The two burly men who had been hot on your trail now lay on a pile on the grass as the distance grows between you and them. You chuckle a bit to yourself upon realizing they must have dropped like dominos, one tripping with the other landing right on top. At this point, you were thankful for anything that could make you laugh.

Looking back ahead of you, you zone back into your mission. Your body aching to take a breather. You take a sharp turn, long used to getting out of these situations. This route change leads you down a steep hill. You almost tumble all the way down, but thankfully your dark brown boots have enough traction on them to help you safely make your way down. You jump off the last little way because what's escaping without a little extra adventure.

Now being back on the soft flat grass, you take in your surroundings, analyzing to try to make the best choice. The guys weren't likely to stay down for too long, so you have to make a decision and fast. You don't have time to try to get ahead, they would catch up in no time.

You realize you have been running for a while to try to escape the men. You weren't keeping track, but this is about as far as you have ever made it outside the kingdom. Everything looks untouched, giving off the vibes that maybe you shouldn't be here. It's ethereal looking, yet a bit unsettling at how everything seems to be in perfect harmony. The branches on the trees sway harshly in the wind and feels as if you were the one to disturb the peace, your presence entirely unwelcome.

You shake off the thoughts and roll your shoulders a bit. This was not the time for superstitions or paranoia.

'Maybe if those stupid guards hadn't chased me for so long,' you think bitterly. But in reality, you know you can't hold it against them. It's just their job, just like this is yours. It's just the way it is.

Typically you would have everything completely planned out. Especially the escape route. But, there was really no way to prepare for this. You usually don't get caught soon enough to actually get chased.

Panic floods your body as you begin to hear angry voices again. You're running out of time. The goal today was not to go to prison. You sigh angrily realizing there really isn't any simple escape route this time around. Before your brain even processes it, your feet are moving on their own accord, simply in fight or flight mode. But, today seems to be your lucky day and nature seems to be on your side.

You glance behind you after a few steps noticing that the men still hadn't caught up enough for you to be in their vision. In this slight hesitation, your foot catches on a branch growing from the ground likely belonging to one of the beautiful weeping willow trees surrounding you. It appears that the trees have inhabited this place for ages, their roots buried deep into the group and long wispy branches that hide practically everything behind them.

You stumble forward, your arms unable to find anything to grasp. You land harshly on your knees, making you hiss out in pain. You were definitely going to be covered in grass stains after this.

You quickly gather yourself, standing to your feet taking in your new surroundings. You falter a bit, unsteady due to the weight of your backpack making you a bit unbalanced. You must have fallen through into a small cave. The willow's long branches came down to hang in the entrance, blocking anyone from seeing the small hideaway. You're surrounded by rough, cool stone. There's a noticeable temperature difference that provides relief to your damp skin. The sun was beating on you aggressively the whole run, but hey at least it was bright enough out to see in front of you. It was the only reason you were brave enough to do this in broad daylight. Although it was easier to slip away in the dark, sometimes the paths of the kingdom and the forest surrounding can get pretty difficult to navigate after dark.

You hear heavy footsteps coming from the area you had just narrowly managed to escape. They sound pretty scattered, your mind providing you with the image of multiple royal guards rushing into the serene environment. You almost giggle at the thought of them all dressed head to toe in golden armor. A large sun engrained in their chest plate.

You peek slightly through the covering, seeing exactly what you had imagined. They are searching the area hastily in hopes of finding any clues as to which way you went. They look like children playing dress up, some of their spartan-like helmets falling over their eyes when they turn their heads obviously not fitting them properly.

One stalks past the opening, startling you backward. You hold your breath in fear. They may look silly, but that doesn't diminish the fact that they could positively ruin your life if they manage to capture you. You make your way farther into the cave, expecting to run into a rock wall blocking you in. You had planned to just hide it out in here until it was safe to leave, but soon you realize there may be another way to go about it. It seems to not really be a cave like you had initially thought. Rather, it appeared to be a tunnel of some sort. As you continue to walk the light grows dim. Before you know it, you can no longer see more than 2 steps in front of you. You put your arms out trying to feel in front of you. It would suck to run face-first into solid rock.

You bite your lip gently, starting to grow a little nervous at the lack of light and ability to see what's ahead. But you just have to deal with it at this point, anything to put more distance between you and the angry guards.

Soon you spy a light at the end of the tunnel, opposite from where you entered. You no longer hear any yelling or stomping and it gives you hope that maybe on the other side, there would be no one searching for you. They surely would have made it there by now if they could find it, right?

You emerge from the tunnel, eyes squinting as the sun's bright rays abuse your eyes again. When you finally adjust to the new lighting, you look around in amazement. You were somehow in a completely new area, large mountains and hills blocking the place in. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before. You had thought where you had just come from looked untouched, but this right here was actual nature at its finest.

It wouldn't be hard to believe you were the first human to step foot here in ages, the area completely overgrown with plants and animals. Yet, there was one unavoidable thing that proved that theory wrong. Standing high amid the greenery was a tall tower. It appeared nearly ancient, the stone crumbling a bit with vines wrapping their way up the walls.

It's honestly mystical with a stunning waterfall coming from one of the mountains just beyond the tower, painting the scene with a light mist. You notice that as the sun hits the vapor just right it creates little mini rainbows.

"Woah" you whisper. You aren't usually the type of person to talk to yourself, mostly preferring to keep your thoughts in your mind, but at this moment it felt perfectly justified. You spin in a circle, trying to take everything in. You had never really seen anything like this, despite the beautiful architecture the kingdom was made up of. This felt like something out of a fairy tale. Which you were so not used to. You aren't typically the main character. More likely the shady best friend or the villain who never really lives up to their name.

For a minute, you feel like someone else. Like one of the beautiful girls in the books you read who end up with the loves of their lives. Or even the protagonist in a high fantasy novel. At this point, you honestly wouldn't be that surprised if a fairy with sparkling wings flew out in front of you. It didn't even really feel like real life.

You approach the tower, eager to explore what you have found. You make sure to carefully walk across the wood that appears to have been thrown over the stream haphazardly in an attempt at a bridge. It doesn't exactly look stable and you weren't looking to get wet. But it was the only way across and you just had to get a closer look.

Surprisingly, you make it across with no damage and you sigh in relief. The material of your outfit does not feel nice wet. You had learned that the hard way last time you had stolen something.

You scan the perimeter of the tower, shocked at the realization that there is no door. You double-check, a little put-off at the idea, and again find no door. Not even an opening or one that had been covered by the overgrown bushes and flowers that had taken over the landscape.

'Who makes a tower with no entrance?' you question, your stomach turning slightly beginning to get an eerie feeling. It was just a little… odd. But who were you to say how something should be built? You aren't exactly an architect. And maybe things were just built differently back then.

You knew it was ridiculous to try and justify something as weird as this, but you couldn't help your brain trying to connect the dots. But it just doesn't make sense. You take a few steps back, trying to figure out how to approach the situation. The lack of an entrance is disheartening as you were beginning to think maybe you could've stayed here for a while. There was no way you could go back to the villages of the kingdom right now. They would definitely be searching for you. And if you could find an easy way into this place, it would be a nice spot to hide out until everything cools down.

You spot windows near the top of the tower and suddenly you realize, the window directly above you is wide open. That is your chance. You feel around the stone bricks that make up the base of the building hoping you can catch your fingers in the cracks. You manage to get a little bit of a grip, but not much. There's no way you could make it all the way up there by just climbing. None of the rocks jut out enough.

You gasp out, an idea rushing into your head. You reach down where a leather sheath is strapped to your thigh. You carefully grab your dagger out. it was only one, but it could definitely help. You didn't like carrying a knife on you, but it did become really useful sometimes. You didn't use it much, especially not to hurt people. It's more of a just-in-case option. You bring the metal up to your eyes admiring how the afternoon sunlight reflects off it, the handle carefully engrained with beautiful roses.

You would be lying if you said it didn't kind of make you feel like a badass.

You lodge the dagger into the cracks and use it to try and pull yourself up a bit. It was definitely helpful as you thought. You kick your feet against the stone, hoping to find a decent push-off spot. With the traction on your shoes and your leather gloves protecting your hands both providing a bit of grip, this might actually be possible. And at this point, what exactly did you have to lose? It would be such a nice shelter to rest in for the night.

You carefully, make your way up the tower, thankful for the wood that occasionally wraps the bricks giving you a place to catch your breath.

Finally, you manage to make it to the top, your chest heaving slightly and your fingers burning from the pressure. In your haste to pull yourself up the last little bit of the wall and slide through the window, you fail to notice the soft noises coming from inside. There's some shuffling, but you brush it off assuming it's some animal that had also decided to make this place its shelter.

You throw your leg through the window taking a second to sit there and catch your breath. You're straddling the bit of wood framing the window, it's delicately carved and decorated with light purple flowers on the ledge. You take a mental note of them, hoping to admire them later once you're settled.

Deeming yourself steady enough, you pull your other leg through standing up in the large room. As much as you want to take everything in, you first slip your backpack off. Nervous that things had gotten jostled on the way up. You open the buckle and slip the top open. You set the bag gently on the ground, squatting next to it as you pull out a sparkling crown.

You sigh in relief that it was still there, it hadn't fallen out. There wasn't even a singular scratch on it. The feeling of the cool metal weighing heavy in your hands punches a sigh of relief from your lungs.

"Thank God," you whisper to yourself, breaking the gentle silence of the room you entered. You had stolen the crown. It’s why the royal guards were after you. You had entered the castle through the ceiling and stolen the crown, the guards just barely noticing as you were exiting. It was the most valued object in the whole kingdom. The importance of the crown is in how it is associated with the lost prince.

It was the most well-known story in the country and maybe even the whole world. Everyone had been so ecstatic. The Queen and King were having a baby. An heir to take over the throne when they grew old and gray. But, the Queen had grown increasingly sick as the pregnancy progressed. You had been just a baby when all this was happening, but over the years you have heard of the story many times. It was hard not to. It was everywhere you went.

Thankfully, the Queen recovered. They had found a magical flower that had the power to heal her. The baby came soon after and the whole kingdom rejoiced. They had a beautiful baby boy, with golden locks and soft skin. They released a bright lantern into the indigo sky in celebration.

However, everything went wrong that night. The new parents had heard their baby cry in the early hours of the morning but when they got there he was already gone. Never to be seen again. They still hold hope that maybe one day their baby will return home. Even going as far as to hold an annual festival for him and releasing hundreds of floating lanterns into the sky on his birthday. It was honestly a gorgeous sight.

You go to put the crown back into your bag, still nervous to get scratches or fingerprints on it. It was worth a lot of money. A deal you couldn’t pass up. Just as your fingers leave the smooth metal you hear a shuffling noise coming from your side. Your head shoots up looking to discover where the noise is coming from.

You're shocked at the sight that greets you. You stand up, nearly stumbling back at the surprise. There in front of you was… another human? How in the world had he gotten up here? You didn't hear anyone else climb up after you and it's hard to believe someone could do that silently. Did that mean they had already been here when you arrived? Why were they here?

So many questions flood your head that you barely have time to react as an object comes flying toward your head. You quickly duck down, just barely missing the dark metal by an inch. You pop back up, thankfully agile from all your years as a criminal. Once you regain your footing, your eyes take in the sight of a young man standing in front of you. He has probably the lightest blonde hair you have ever seen in your life paired with deep brown eyes. The sun shines on him, making him look as if he was the sun lighting up the room. You're a little taken aback at the sight of him. Typically you are pretty good at reading people, but it seems like you aren't exactly making the best choices today. He doesn't exactly look like the type to try to hit somebody over the head with a heavy frying pan, but here he is sanding with the weapon of choice in his right hand.

He stares back at you while standing in a nervous, defensive stance. But to be fair, you would also be feeling quite uncomfortable if you had tried to take someone's head off and somehow managed to miss.

The stare lasts longer than most people would deem necessary, silence yet again filling the large stone room. Yet, neither of you break it. You're still reeling in shock from the frying pan.

Finally, you gather yourself and question him. "Did you really just try to hit me with a frying pan?" you ask in disbelief. His eyes widen when you speak. He looks more shocked than you feel, which is really saying something. He looks as if he has never interacted with another human before. For a split second, you wonder if maybe you were being too harsh on him.

But before you can get another word in a call sounds from outside.

"Felix, my love, I'm home," a woman yells in the distance. The boy's, who you now assume to be Felix, head shoots to the window in a panic. He turns to you, now looking even more anxious than before.

"You have to go, you have to go like now. She will actually hurt you. Like with more than a frying pan," he whispers as he comes much closer, his voice a surprisingly gravelly tone. You can practically feel the vibrations of it on your skin and you're stunned for a moment, frozen in place. He grabs your wrist, not unkindly, and leads you to the back wall of the room. You watch him carefully as he proceeds to open the door to an armoire, making you wonder what exactly his plan is. He gestures inside and you simply stare at him struggling to comprehend the situation.

"I'm not hiding in your closet," you spit, slightly insulted he would even suggest that.

"Do you want to get killed?" He asks, his tone firmer this time. You can tell he's serious, and your hands start to shake upon realizing how urgent he sounds.

He continues on despite your silence, eager to get you to follow along. "Listen, I don't know who you are or why you're here, but this is really bad timing. I was going talk to her about something important and now... you're here," he starts sounding utterly defeated. He knows explaining the situation to a random stranger likely wasn't going to help, but he was still going to try.

"She doesn't normally listen to me and she definitely won't if she has to deal with you, so just please hide. Just until I can get her to leave. Then I guess I'll figure out what to do," he finishes with a sigh and stares back at you hopefully. You simply nod slowly a little stunned. Felix realizes this is the closest he'll probably get to agreeance and doesn't try to convince you any further.

He grabs your hand gently as you step into the closet, helping you stay stable in the crowded space. You're surrounded by clothes of every color, so many blues and pinks that if you squint hard enough you can practically imagine you're walking into cotton candy.

"Just stay quiet, I'll try to get her to go away," He states quietly. He nods at you reassuringly and it comforts you. You still feel very trapped, but you no longer feel as nervous, rather trusting the man to take care of it for you. You don't know why he hasn't freaked out at you yet, but if he was going to, it probably would've already happened. He shuts the door slowly, dimming the small space. You watch his figure until the last little bit of light can no longer slip through, shutting you off from the room you had just been in.

Thank God you're not claustrophobic.

Once the door is completely shut, you're unable to see anything aside from black for a while, your eyes refusing to adjust to the sudden darkness. However, you listen carefully to everything happening outside the armoire in hopes of getting a better read on everything happening.

You hear Felix shuffling around in the room, obviously cleaning things up and maybe even hiding things considering his fearful reaction to the women's yell. You can hear her shout again from outside, but you can no longer make out what she says. The wood is too thick to depict more than a murmur. But, Felix seems to have heard what she has said. The noises from the room get much louder and rushed. Before suddenly they stop.

You hold your breath in the quiet, anxiously waiting for what comes next.

Felix takes a deep breath, glancing around the room one last time to make sure everything is nice and clean. He had noticed your bag left by the window, the stolen crown peeking out. A little chick, whom Felix had named Bbokari had been poking around next to it making him laugh in adoration of the small creature. He must have hidden when you had broken in, scared of the stranger. But that was to be expected, considering every time mother arrived home, Felix would tell the small chick to hide, pushing him out of sight. Now, Mother wasn't mean or an animal abuser. She had never hurt Bbokari before, but Felix honestly did not want to take that chance. She wasn't exactly a fan of critters or any type of outsider making their way into her tower.

He gives the chick a tiny pat on the head with his index finger, the small bird tweeting happily, before curiously picking up the crown. It shined brightly, the sun catching on the metal as he picked it up.

What in the world? he thinks in confusion. Out of all the things Mother has brought home, this is definitely not something he's seen before. It does, however, remind him of the fairytales he had read as a kid before she had confiscated them in an angry fit. She didn't like when he read about that stuff. It had confused him greatly, as she had never really told him why. So, rather than reading about princesses he was often stuck with books about nature or fiction stories about romance.

The chick pecks at his foot, urgently, trying to remind him of the situation at hand. He snaps out of it quickly putting the crown back in the leather bag. He brings it over to the stairs in the corner. He peels back the one broken step, shoving the bag beneath it. Not even mother knew of this hiding spot. He had to hide the bag, she would ask way too many questions about where that came from. He knows that realistically he should be scared about a stranger practically breaking into the tower. But maybe there's a small part of him that wants to prove himself to his mother. Show her that he really can handle himself. He's turning 18 tomorrow and maybe just maybe now that he's old enough, she'll let him go.

He's had this dream since he was little, to see the floating lights. Every year, they appear on his birthday. Hundreds of bright yellow lights fill the sky, and he cannot seem to figure out why. Either way though, he can't help but feel like they're meant for him. And every year, without fail, he watches them. He looks forward to it all year round, waiting for the day he can see the floating lights gleam again. It's his dream to see them up close in person, but it's starting to seem like it may be simply that- just a dream. How silly of him to think it's something that could actually happen.

Mother becomes very angry anytime he asks to leave the tower, or simply mentions anything about the outside world, but he feels confident this time. She's definitely going to let him go; she has to right? It's his only hope.

"Darling, I'm not getting any younger down here," Mother Gothel yells, sounding exasperated. He quickly picks Bbokari up, hiding him on a ledge behind a curtain, giving him a loving smile before rushing to go help her up.

She had created this tower without a door, purposefully hoping to keep him as far away from the outside and other people as she could. And hell, he couldn't blame her. After all the stories she has told him, he's thankful he's never been exposed to the harshness of the world.

Felix jogs over the window, leaning over the edge, feeling the soft spring breeze blow through his hair.

"Coming Mother!" he yells, adding excitement to his voice. Despite his earlier nervousness, he can't help but be excited whenever she comes home. She often takes long trips, only coming home for days at a time. He'll take any sort of human interaction he can get.

Felix grabs the rope from the wall next to the window, swinging it over the hook hanging down. He throws the rope over, watching his Mother grab it harshly once it hits the ground. Since there is no door, they use a sort of pully system. There's a loop at the bottom of the rope that mother slips her foot into and she holds onto the rope as Felix pulls her the rest of the way up.

It was exhausting, but he's gotten used to it over the years. Luckily, he's gotten a lot stronger over the years. Especially since now that he's older she goes on her trips a lot more. Don't get him wrong, he's thankful, he really is as these trips usually involve getting food or gifts for Felix and her. However, the days can get lonely and fast. There's only so much cleaning, baking, painting, and singing a person can do. It's the reason the walls of the tower are completely covered in different paintings. Some have even been painted over multiple times; he ran out of space long ago. Being home alone for days on end without being able to go outside isn't exactly the dream life some people would think. But he gets it. There are reasons he can't go outside and he must abide to keep himself safe.

So, he pushes the anger and resentment deep inside, painting on his happiest face for her to come home to. He finishes pulling her up and wipes a bead of sweat from his face as she finally steps into the sun-lit room.

She walks over to his bed, placing down her basket and shawl before returning to him. She always looks a bit run down when she comes home, her hair a bit more grey, wrinkles on her forehead, and this haunted look in her eyes. Honestly, it's enough to make him never want to go outside.

The woman caresses Felix's cheek gently, looking into his eyes. He has always loved whenever she was gentle with him, providing love and care, but it's starting to becoming rarer with each passing day.

"Felix, I don't know how you manage to do that day after day, dear," She says softly with a bit of concern.

"It's nothing, Mother," he reassures her, despite how exhausting it truly is. She lets go of him, before he can even finish the sentence, her gaze scanning the rest of the room.

"You keep it so nice and clean in here, it's so nice for Mumsy to come home to," she says, always impressed by the things he manages to get done while she's away. Felix cringes a bit at the statement, knowing he had finished cleaning at barely 7:30 am. It truly was the easiest part of the day. Honestly, the hardest part is always the waiting. Waiting for someone, anyone, to talk to or really just anything to do.

Mother walks over to his mirror that stands near the wall. It's circular and nothing fancy, framed in wood, but she looks at it as if it holds all the answers to life, like it's the most important thing in the world. Sometimes Felix wonders if she loves the mirror more than she loves him, but he quickly pushes that thought down, not wanting it to sour his mood anymore than it already has.

He follows her over to the mirror watching in disdain as she examines her face. Lifting her eyebrows and wincing as the skin drops back down, wrinkled and droopy from her trip. She glances up at him, making eye contact through the reflective glass. In this moment, Felix decides he needs to ask her. He's been waiting all day, or really his whole life, and he really just needs to put it out there.

He opens his mouth ready to admit his dream to her, but he's quickly cut off.

"Felix, my love, would you sing for me?" she asks, and despite her trying to hide it, he can detect the desperation in her voice. He's learned to pick out even the slightest change of tone from her over the years.

Felix's eyes widen, almost comically. How could he have forgotten. It's always the first thing she asks for when she gets back. Of course, she would want him to sing for her. His plan is just going to have to wait for a few more minutes.

He nods repeatedly, rushing off again to grab all the necessary supplies. He places Mothers chair down in the center of the room, before grabbing his flimsy stool, setting it in front of the chair. He sits down quickly, trying to hurry the situation along despite knowing how mother likes to take her time during the process. Going too quickly can become a bit more shocking than refreshing, but today was not the time for relaxation.

Mother finally comes over and takes a seat in her usual chair. She grabs Felix's hands and he can only hope she doesn't feel how sweaty they are. He's so nervous about how the conversation is going to go.

His mind is racing as he opens his mouth to start singing. The words coming with ease, practically muscle memory now with how many times he has sang it for her.

"Flower gleam and glow," he starts, his low voice bouncing off the circular walls. He can see her instantly start to relax as his voice fills the room. It makes Felix feel a bit better, knowing how happy it makes her when he sings. As the song continues, he starts to speed up, again eager to get it over with. Mother's eyes open again in panic, wanting the feeling to last longer.

"Wait-" she starts to say, but Felix has already made it to the ending line. As the song comes to a close, Mother jolts forward practically turning into a new person. Her hair is back to it's usual shiny raven color, a new sense of life brimming from her eyes, and all the wrinkles immediately disappearing from her skin. She's young again, just like she likes to be. He can't blame her, who doesn't wish to be young again.

Normally at this time, Felix would compliment her or tell her how he finds her beautiful before and after, but this time there is something else weighing on his mind. He can only hope that the wood of the closet is thick enough and that he had managed to close the door all the way, knowing sometimes it wouldn't latch completely.

This is the last thing he wants you to find out about. He's terrified you'll turn out to be one of those ruffians and thugs Mother warns him about, wanting to steal him away and use him for his magic.

Oh yeah, Felix has this magical ability where he can heal people with just his touch and voice. He can easily make anyone young again and heal all kinds of wounds. It's why he's in this tower, locked away. It's to keep him safe. Mother doesn't want his power to end up in the wrong hands.

She looks down at Felix in disbelief, not understanding why he is acting this way. He stands up abruptly from the small stool, the same one he has sat in since he was a child, and starts to talk, unable to keep it in anymore.

"Mother, tomorrow is a very special day. Do you know what day it is?" he asks, mouth running a mile a minute. She stands up with him, grabbing his wrist lightly, trying to stop him from pacing around the room. All the energy is making her head spin.

He doesn't even wait a second to let her respond, before reminding her, "It's my birthday!"

"Ah ah ah," she starts, "I distinctly remember that your birthday was last year." Felix tries not to let himself physically deflate at this. She always loves to play games like this.

"That's the funny thing about birthdays, they happen every year," he says gently, not wanting to anger her.

"What is it you want this year? How about those muffins you really liked from that one bakery?" she says, figuring that's what this conversation was about.

"Actually, Mother I was thinking, maybe I could go see the floating lights?" he asks, "The one's that fill the sky every year on my birthday."

At this her gaze immediately darkens, and he realizes that he was right. It's only a dream. It's not something that could come true. He should have known better. She would never let him leave the tower. She's told him this so many times before.

Yet, he couldn't help but try. It's who he is. He's too hopeful and innocent for his own good.

"Felix, you know how I feel about you leaving the tower," she states, her voice a low tone. Felix suppresses a shiver, his body reacting anxiously.

"But Mother-" he starts, hoping to explain himself.

"No buts, they are just stars, Felix, nothing worth putting yourself in danger for," she says, using an argument he had thought of many times.

"They aren't though, I have charted every single star in that sky, and it just doesn't fit. I can't help but feel like they are meant for me."

"Felix, do not argue with me" she says, her volume rising drastically. He knows she can get worked up fast with sensitive topics, but he really wishes she would just listen to him.

"Don't ever ask to leave this tower again," she says sternly as her grip around his wrist tightens harshly. He winces, tears pooling in his eyes, but he doesn't let them fall.

'Don't cry,' he repeats desperately in his head. She would never take him seriously or believe he could handle himself if he cried in front of her.

"Yes, Mother" he says back quietly, knowing there is no use fighting with her. She pats him gently on the head, satisfied with his answer, before moving back over to her basket. She starts to put her things back in their rightful spots, unpacking after her trip.

"Mother-" Felix starts again only to stop as her head aggressively snaps towards him, anger evident on her face.

"Enough about the stars, Felix," she yells in disbelief. Felix shrinks back instinctually. That wasn't even what he was going to say.

"I was actually thinking maybe you could get me more of those special paints you got me a few years ago," he says timidly, trying to come up with something else that she would be more willing to comply with.

"That's a 3-day trip," she sighs out in annoyance.

"I just thought it would be a better idea than... you know," he explains.

"Alright, dear, are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I know I'm safe as long as I'm here," he says back knowing just what she wants to hear. Felix helps as she goes to repack up her stuff, preparing for the long trip ahead of her.

"I love you, my flower," Mother says before she leaves the tower again, climbing down the rope to the soft grass of the outside world.

"I love you more," he says back. It's his usual response, but this time the words feels heavy coming off his tongue, almost as if it doesn't really weigh as truthfully in his heart as it did this morning. Everything just feels wrong.

Bbokari steps out from behind the curtain, chirping at him loudly. It was surprising how loud such a tiny animal could be. Felix walks over to him, gently petting him.

"Everything's going to be okay," he says softly, unsure if he's truly assuring the chick or himself.

A loud snore startles him from the interaction. Bbokari turns his head cutely towards the closet where the noise came from.

Felix sighs bumping his head lightly on the wall above the ledge.

“I don’t want to handle that right,” he says with a chuckle. Bbokari just looks up at him adamantly and Felix knows exactly what the little bird is trying to say. He can’t just keep you in the closet.

Felix rolls his eyes playfully before heading over to the armoire to let you out. However, he does grab his frying pan on the way… just in case.

More parts coming soon!!

[r0tting-rat]

DCA PROMPTOBER 2024

Can I please talk about my God AU? Please please please the worldbuilding is simply delicious please

Day 13 - Night

Pairing: God!Moon x GN reader Warning: None Words: 2400+ Summary: You're a thief and Moon is the God protector of thieves and liars. You strike a deal.

On Ouroboros, a world of wolves, lions, sheep and bunnies, you were a fox. Sly, cunning, evasive and stealthy, a jack of all trades but master of none, doing everything it took to survive no matter the cost. You stole, mostly, and did odd jobs, but for a reason or another everyone in the region knew your name. Or, to be fair, one of your many names. You had made up many aliases during the years—many of which were still spoken like a curse, along with insults and blasphemies—and you would continue to create new ones for each name that would get reported to the guards. 

You were wanted in many cities, looked down upon in multiple villages and beloved by… none, actually. The authorities of each place you had visited in the past had been given orders to arrest you on sight—dead or alive, no one really cared—and for that reason you feared you would need to flee the region of Lumen soon. A pity, honestly, because you were beginning to grow fond of the infinite plains of green grass, immense forests and prosperous cities, but you had to leave them behind and all because of a misunderstanding. You hadn’t stolen the King’s ring, not at all! He had actually hired you to retrieve it after it had been taken by a group of bandits. The king promised you a fortune were you to succeed, but something went wrong while you were rummaging through the criminals’ bags and most recent loot. The ring wasn’t there, but you found many other jewels in the mix which you knew had been stolen along with the ring. You guessed it could have been lost, or maybe they had already sold it, but you thought the king wouldn’t complain too much about it, so you brought back the whole bag. Inside were tiaras, necklaces and golden coins, all belonging to the king and queen of Lumen, but between them there was no ring.

The old man sitting on the throne had stared at you, eyes filled with venom, as you told him everything. 

-It just wasn’t there, believe me, they must have sold it already,- you shrugged, pretending not to see the animosity of the guards surrounding you and pointing their polearms at your throat.

-Do you even know the importance of that ring, thief?- spat the king, but you shrugged once more. 

-Not really,- you replied, -Was it a gift from your wife or something?-

-That ring,- hissed the monarch, -Has the seal of Lumen on it! It has been passed from generation to generation of kings and queens, it has been used to sign laws and documents ever since this city was built, that ring alone is older than history!-

Despite his age, the man stood from his throne to tower over you, imposing in all of his regal glory, and looked at you like you were a mere cockroach which had learned the human language. 

-That ring was a gift from the Sun God to my ancestor, it is proof of the divinity of my role, and I don’t believe you.- The king’s words were spoken in a hateful hiss. 

-What?- you asked, taken aback, -What do you mean?-

-I said that I don’t believe you. What I think is that not only you knew about all of this already, but you have also decided to steal it from me and lie so blatantly about it being “sold” away.- Your eyes darted to the doors of the large atrium, trying to remember if they had been closed behind you after you entered, but the more you thought about it the more you began to panic. -Guards, arrest this thief!-

Before the king could finish barking orders you turned around and ran as fast as you could towards the only exit, slamming your shoulder against the wooden doors decorated with golden flowers and praying they would open. The Luck Goddess was once again on your side and you managed to slip out before any of the guards could lay their hands on you, and before anyone knew it you stole the first horse you found—a beautiful white mare belong to the queen, who had just returned from a stroll—and you left the golden castle behind you.

Just hours later, at the border between Lumen and Umbra, the neighboring region, you jumped off the horse and took a break from riding. There was no time to waste, you knew it well, the king would have your severed head severed on a plate if you didn’t leave immediately, but you needed some time to catch your breath, and you also had a plan to escape. If you managed to leave Lumen you could restart from scratch in the region of Umbra, under a new name, maybe you could even find a dignified job and put an end to your life as an outlaw! The king’s guards couldn’t follow you in the other region, if you crossed the border you would have been safe from them.

Unfortunately, humans couldn’t cross the wild borders between the two regions due to a magical wall that separated the land in two perfectly identical portions, and the only way to cross said barrier was through official roads. Those roads however were guarded on both sides by armed guards, who checked every carriage and requested a permit for each person and animal being transported. Why animals as well? Because of shapeshifters, of course.

That option was completely out of the picture, many people before you had already tried and failed to cross the border via road. Invisibility, faking a permit, corrupting the guards; nothing worked, and you didn’t want to risk being taken back to the king were you discovered. During your many hours of riding however you had remembered about some legends you had heard in the city slums. People spoke of a man, many years before, who had managed to cross the wild border unscathed, after making a deal with the Sun God. Said man was a musician who had been accused of casting a spell on the queen and making her fall in love with him, so he had fled the capital city of Umbra looking for an escape route. At dawn he stopped running and sat on a rock, admiring the sky, and he began to play his lyre, certain that his time was coming to an end.

The legend said that, right as the first rays of the beloved Sun began to peek through, a man clad in a white hood stood in front of him, attracted by the beautiful music. The musician didn’t stop playing despite being terrified of the figure, which towered over him with its inhuman height, but suddenly the hooded stranger spoke to him in a gentle voice. 

-You are talented, human,- the voice rumbled in the air, coming from everywhere around him, -You wish to cross my border, don’t you?- 

The musician found the strength to answer soon after, bowing his head as he recognized the God standing before him. 

-Yes, my Lord,- he spoke, trembling like a leaf, -I have been accused of a crime I didn’t commit by the tyrant of Umbra, there is no place for me here anymore.-

-A crime? Which crime have you allegedly committed, my humble servant?- 

-Adultery!- replied the man, -They claim I have used sorcery on the queen, making her fall for me with my music, but I have done no such thing!-

The God hummed, and from under His hood a gentle smile blessed the eyes of the musician. 

-I am the Sun. Love, music and passion are all part of my domain, so I understand your troubles well. Play a game with me, human, if you win I’ll allow you to cross my border.-

The legend didn’t say which game the two played. It could have been chess, a game of cards, no one knew, the only thing the legend tells is that the musician won, and the Sun God allowed him to leave Umbra and his crime behind. People began to speculate that the Sun God and the Moon God walked the mortal realm during the dawn and dusk, but those that tried to search for Them were rewarded with nothing whatsoever. 

As you sat under a tree, looking at the iridescent hues of the magical threshold in front of you, you wondered if it had anything to do with being “worthy” of seeing the Gods. Night was beginning to fall, the Sun was setting in the horizon and from your spot in the soft grass you could see a myriad of stars illuminating the darkening sky.  

☆

You weren’t sure of when it happened, but you fell asleep. You dreamed of nothing, waking up less than 10 minutes later to a full night sky and a cloaked figure standing before you. You screamed, startled, and immediately your hand flew to your belt, closing around the handle of your dagger. Your wide eyes couldn’t understand what you were seeing, it felt similar to reading in a language you didn’t speak, but your brain was trying to make sense of what was before you nonetheless.

The stranger had a dark hood littered by silver and golden dots, like a piece of the sky had been taken and sewn into the fabric, but the rim of the cloak turned into something akin to vapor when it reached the ground. The fabric which at first reminded you of satin looked almost alive, moving like black sand in the desert during a storm, and just looking at it for too long made you feel dizzy. The figure was way taller than you, forcing you to crane your neck to look at it, but under the hood you saw no face. Still, you felt watched.

The stranger didn’t say a word, you simply stayed there and stared at each other, so you understood that he was waiting for you to speak.

-Am I in the presence of the Moon God?- you asked in a feeble voice, -I… I wish to cross Your border and enter Umbra.-

-What do you think you can give me in return?- asked the hooded being, and his voice was so profound it seemed like it came from the ground under you. You stayed there, puzzled for a moment, before realizing that there wasn’t going to be any game. You weren’t in the presence of the Sun, after all—you were standing before the everlasting Moon. 

-I don’t have much,- you said, -But I promise to do what it takes to pay You back, if You let me escape, my Lord.-

-So you’re asking me a favor based on… a promise?- He laughed, -Don’t you know that promises made by a thief and a liar are less worthy than a handful of dirt?-

-My Lord, are You not the patron God of thieves, liars and wanderers?- you asked, showing far more bravery than you actually had. In reality, you were shaking in your boots just by standing in front of a creature like Him. -Don’t you protect those who walk under your night sky?-

-I’m the God of many things, mortal,- He replied, and you could feel the irritation in the Moon God’s voice beginning to rise, -What you mentioned is just part of my domain. I am the patron God of liars, but I’m also the Law and Justice, or do you not remember?-

You took a step back, ready to flee in case the situation turned sour, but the mist falling from the God’s hood began to envelop you, pulling you closer and making you shiver. 

-I protect those who act hidden by the shadows of the Night I bring, that which you call “Luck” and “Fortune” has been me all along. I have protected you from the harm others may have caused you but I will not stand in the way of justice, for that will be simply the consequences of your own actions.- The God looked down upon you, and your hands lost their grip on the dagger you were holding. You had never felt so afraid in your life, and soon found yourself on your knees in the wet grass.

-Please,- you begged, -I’ll pray, I’ll make sacrifices in your name and forever be devoted if You let me cross, my Lord! I’ll lead a honest life!-

For the first time in your life, ever since you were small, you weren’t lying, and considering the domain of the God you were speaking to you were sure that He was also aware of that. Still, the idea of it seemed to amuse Him greatly, for He began to laugh loudly. Shocked, you stayed still, on your knees, and waited for the divine being to stop taunting your desperation. You uttered a last, choked “please”, which went unheard in the chaos around you. 

-Foolish, oh, so foolish of you!- the Moon God barked, -If you so desperately want safety, then so be it! I’ll save you from an imprisoned future, but I demand a payment.-

The God pulled the hood of his cloak back, revealing His form to you and blinding you with the ethereal beauty of immortality. His dark blue skin gleamed, iridescent like the most precious pearl, and His hair—straight and white—were so long they must have reached His waist. The eyes were red, beautiful and haunting, but the face was a half-blue and half-white mask. He spoke, words came out in His deep voice, but His lips didn’t move, not a muscle did. His expression remained unchanged, stern and serious as it had been ever since the Beginning, just His eyes betrayed His real emotions, and what He was feeling in that moment was amusement.

-You will come with me, human,- he ordered, -You will work as a servant for me and my brother, that is the payment I request in exchange for the safety I will give you.-

Large, beautiful hands covered by silver chains came to grab your chin, tilting your head up and stopping your lips from quivering. His touch was cold, so cold, but at the same time it filled you with joy, elating like a drug. 

-Do we have a deal, my pet?- said the Moon God, -What place is more safe than the side of a God?-

The Moon was offering you more than anyone in the world would have asked for, He was giving you on a silver platter things any other humans would have killed to have, and you…

You looked in his eyes, of the same color of blood, and swallowed. You agreed. 

-Okay,- you croaked, -Deal.-

-Good,- purred the God, -Very good.-

[the-fluff-piece]

Hiya, I’ve only just found your blog and I love your work🥰 would you mind writing a bit of a drama (i’m a drama queen🥲)? I’ve been thinking some misunderstanding like zoro being (unintentionally) popular with girls but one being extremely clingy to the point people, as well as the fem reader, think they are a couple. Female reader gets jealous and sad and Sanji comes to comfort her and Zoro sees that and gets the wrong idea and becomes jealous too. But they somehow find out the truth and blah blah romantic stuff confessions etc. I know it’s ridiculous but I live for the drama🥺 thanks in advance and i will understand if you don’t want to do it but I love ya anyway xx

Hiya dear reader,

Thank you for your kind words! I'm happy that you like my style!

I'm sorry it took so long, but I didn't want to post something unfinished XD I hope you don't mind me setting it before the time skip, I think water seven directly after enies lobby is a great location.

Drama is always good and that's a great setup - LET'S DO IT (got a little longer)

👉 masterlist stories

👉 masterlist headcanon

here's

Zoro has no fucking clue

You defeated CP9 and returned together with Robin to Water 7, where the crew got the chance to heal and relax for a few days.

Together, you really showed it to the world government! Well, mostly the big hitters in the crew. Zoro saved you when it came to fighting, not that you minded it. Whenever you were in danger, you knew that he would show up and defeat whatever marine captain or sea monster was trying to kill you.

When you got the key and released him and Usopp from the cuffs, he flashed you a heartmeltingly handsome smile and proceeded to partake in the absolutely ridiulous sword duel that destroyed half the building - and than he fought against thousands of marines.

He really deserved a break. And a thank you. You had been aimlessly wandering through the streets of water 7 to find something for Zoro, a gift to thank him. And maybe show him how much you like him.

Eventually, you decided to get him a Magnum bottle of sake, enough for his big thirst. It was something he absolutely would love.

Pleased with your purchase, you walked back to your temporary shelter in water 7- but your heart almost stopped. You were already so attuned to his appearance, that you could have picked out that green hair in any crowd - Zoro was here. And he seemed to be moving fast. Trouble? That meat head always managed to find a fight, you better help him out.

The gathering crowd slowed you down almost immediately. You squeezed through to see Zoro fighting with some guy, who was no match for the formidable swordsman.

Putting on a real show, Zoro played with the amateur, who poked helplessly at the air as Zoro effortlessly moved around the battlefield. Drinking in the "Oh!" And "Ah!" From the surrounding crowd, a cocky smile spread over his face.

With his two swords crossed, he finally attacked and struck his opponent down with one blow.

The crowd cheered - a very female sounding cheer. You noticed a lot of girls streaming to him. They clung to his arms and praised his strength- what was going on?

A girl shouted: "He got the pantie thief! He's my hero!" In a ridiculously high pitched voice and ran towards a grinning Zoro.

Pantie thief - of course. You rolled your eyes and waited for the crowd to dissipate. And you waited, and waited. One of them seemed glued to Zoro's arm, giggling and throwing her long, blonde locks around.

"Hey Zoro, let's get back to the others" you tried to get him to leave with you.

"Nah. this girl here will thank me with some booze! Just go back without me." He waved you off while the girl promised him all he could drink.

Rolling your eyes even harder, you went back to the crew at the galley-la building and informed them of Zoro's absence.

"Good riddance!" Sanji muttered past his cigarette. "Want an éclair?" He offered, almost in the same breath but with suddenly heart-shaped eyes.

"YES" you shouted, hungry for some kind of comfort after Zoro just trotted off with a blonde haired beauty.

"Stupid mosshead!" You cursed as you angrily shoved the sweet treat into your mouth.

"Yes he is, if he did anything to you I will kick that guy to the moon!" Sanji chimed in.

"No it's okay." You muttered and continued to mope for the rest of the evening.

Hardly able to sleep, you heard Zoro stumble home at dawn, throwing himself into a corner and snoring almost immediately.

You hoped that it was done with that - until the next morning. You heard Sanji shriek in delight as the door opened: "Such a sweet beautiful girl, did you come to see me, my lady?"

You didn't hear the reply clearly, but a high female voice cooed something and you heard a loud thud as Sanji's body hit the floor, an expression of total horror on his face.

The girl from yesterday pranced past you as you knelt down next to the cook.

"It's horrible..." he hoarsely whispered, seemingly near death, "she's bringing the mosshead breakfast. That beautiful lady..." his eyes closed as he sighed the last half-sentence and with it, his will to live (for the moment).

Hot jealousy surged up again. You stomped to the table, where luffy was sleep-eating heaps and Zoro gingerly unpacked a giant sandwich, seemingly made entirely out of meat.

The blonde bimbo had parked her breasts on the table and watched Zoro with a dreamy expression as he wolfed down the sandwich, splattering sauce all over the place.

"Do you like it?" She asked in a melodic voice.

"Yeah, thanks" Zoro answered with a full mouth. He seemed very content. That ass.

She didn't leave afterwards. In fact, she basically moved in immediately, either hanging on Zoro's arm or sitting close to him, watching him with heart shaped eyes and complimenting his every breath.

She eventually informed the somewhat irritated rest of the crew that her name was Silk (while throwing her silky hair around) and that she stayed with Zoro. Since she didn't actually do anything bad and Zoro didn't seem to mind, everyone accepted or ignored it.

"Come on, snookums, it's so crowded here, let's go out" Silk tugged at his arm. "I know a great liquor place!"

"Yeah why not" he lazily followed her as she maneuvered him like a tugboat.

"Snookums?" you stared after them in disbelief.

Nami, meanwhile, died of hysterical laughter.

"Didn't think that a girl could tame him that much. He's totally whipped!" she laughed and slapped your back while you didn't understand the world anymore.

The sake you bought was still in your bag, still untouched. Maybe you should bring it back to the store.

It was evening, Zoro and his girl weren't back yet. You found yourself so irritated that you couldn't sleep, just like Sanji, who sat at the table and poured himself some wine.

As you sat next to him, he silently passed you a glass as well. He somehow managed to get from perfectly coiffed, full of energy and dressed to the nines to unshaven and disheveled in the course of a day.

"I know why I am upset...but what is it with you?" You ask him.

Two bloodshot eyes stared back at you.

"I can't believe Marimo...that filthy brute, with no style and no interest in women has a...a..." The end of his sentence was too much to bear for him, instead he took a nervous gulp of wine.

"And she's so....soo...prettyyyyy" he dragged out the last word like a pre-schooler in a tantrum.

You gently tapped your glass against his: "to us" you whisper.

"To...us?" He half asked and half repeated and he smiled.

One glass turned into two glasses, and like that the bottle was gone. Your only topic: how much Zoro and that girl sucked.

A new bottle was opened, and another. Soon, you didn't find enough things to hate Zoro for anymore, so instead you moved on to different topics. Sanji told you about growing up in the restaurant while you told him a few stories of your own. After the third bottle was emptied, you were both pretty drunk, and you didn't really remember much anymore.

You drifted off to an uneasy sleep, full of Zoro how he made out with the girl named Silk. How they had children and generally shoved their happiness into your face.

"Oi, wake up. Y/n, wake up!" You heard Zoro's angry voice above you as he tapped you with his foot.

"Wha...let me sleep marimo" you answered, swiftly adopting Sanji's language and inflection.

As you opened your eyes, the swordsman's towering frame took up your entire field of vision. With his crossed arms and grumpy expression, he looked intimidating as hell.

You stretched and realized that you had slept on the floor, leaning against Sanji, amidst a lot of pillows. Sanji must have brought them during the night to make you more comfortable. Now that's a man!

When you moved, Sanji's head fell into your lap, still sleeping, and he immediately began purring like a kitten. Zoro grabbed him by the collar and shook him awake.

"What the fuck YOU think you're doing?" He bellowed at his sleepy crewmate.

"Go and have your nosebleed somewhere else, you pervy cook!" He said as he threw Sanji down again -hopefully immediately regretting it because Sanji answered with a fiery kick.

Not even 5 minutes awake and already near a fight, you decided to crawl away to safety and make some tea.

As you set down with steaming cup in hand, you spotted the blonde girl coming towards you, wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Demonstrably, she sighed and commented "what a short night" showcasing her disheveled hair with a pout.

"Uh-hu" was all you could manage.

"You are his crewmate, are you not?" she asked, "how can you live with that manly man on one boat and not fall for him?"

"Yeah, it's a mystery" you answered sourly. If she only knew that you did - and he didn't care.

She continued to talk about something, but you decided not to listen. Instead, you focused on the fight going on outside now, where Zoro and Sanji shouted insults at each other.

"You hurt her feelings! I cannot ignore that!" Sanji screamed. "FLAMBÈ SHOT!"

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, STUPID COOK!" Zoro answered among loud clashes.

Your head was aching too much, there was too much noise. You excused yourself and went outside - away from the fight - and sat at the pier. It was calm here. Just faint noises of fighting were in the background.

You thought about how childish those two were, always fighting about something. But you were one to talk, you were childish as well. Zoro or Silk had no way of knowing that they hurt your feelings. At least Zoro deserved an open apology. And his sake.

You sighed, already playing the conversation in your head. The waves crashed against the pier, it was really calm.

Too calm.

When you returned to the building, both Zoro and Silk were gone.

Sanji was at the stove, making breakfast.

"Zoro stormed off" he said flatly. "And Silk-chan followed, of course."

They didn't return for the whole day. Dusk came and there was still no sign of them.

It got late, evening turned to night and Zoro was still gone. It was time to have a talk, to let him know how you felt, and to clarify where you both stood. You packed the sake to finally give it to him and be the friend he deserved.

You made your way through the bustling streets of Water 7 once again, aimlessly walking and hoping to find Zoro. It was a lively city with people sitting outside and laughing late into the night. You didn't see the green hair anywhere, maybe they've gone to her place.

Your feet have taken you away from the people in the streets to side alleys, where everything was calm and dark. There were lots or piers looking out to the water where crews loaded and unloaded goods.

With relief, you spotted Zoro sitting on a wooden barrel near the water's edge, alone now, with an empty bottle of sake beside him. His expression was more somber than before, and he seemed lost in thought.

Taking a deep breath, you approached him, determined to have the conversation you had been avoiding. As you got closer, Zoro looked up and met your gaze, and you could see a hint of surprise in his eyes.

"Hey," you said softly, taking a seat beside him. "Mind if we talk?"

Zoro blinked and then nodded, a serious look on his face. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and decided to be direct. "I am really happy for you, Silk seems to really like you." You paused, unsure where to go next.

"And I hope you're happy with the cook" he snorted.

"What?" You asked, surprised.

"The cook. And you. I wouldn't have thought..." His voice trailed off and he took the bottle again. Remembering that it was already empty, he threw it into the sea with a sigh.

"That goddamn cook with his nice words..." Zoro mumbled angrily.

"I am not with Sanji, silly" you told him.

"But you slept together...! On the floor!" He stuttered.

"We just fell asleep, nothing more." You said.

"I...I'm not with Silk either." He rubbed his head, "in fact, she was kind of unnerving."

"Than why be with her for days?" You asked.

"You know, it was nice to be appreciated for once. Silk gets it. You always call me stupid or silly." He shrugged.

"You stupid mosshead, everytime I call you stupid I mean that I like your stupid!" You rummaged in your bag for the Sake, "it means that you're adorable and cute and so, so unbelievably, awesomely stupid! And I do appreciate you. You save me all the time. I bought this for you, as a thank you" You gave him the extra large bottle of Sake.

Zoro's brows furrowed as the gears started turning in his head. "I didn't realize... I mean, I didn't think...why did you never say so before?"

"Don't know. You never really cared about anything besides swords and fighting." You shrugged.

"I...I do care, I just...I'm not so good with words." He held the bottle in his hands like he didn't know what to do with it.

He swallowed and looked at you. "You know, I think you're stupid, too. Really silly. The silliest person I've ever met." He laughed and you chimed in.

You felt a rush of relief and happiness wash over you. Maybe Zoro wasn't as clueless as you had thought. Perhaps he had his own way of expressing his feelings.

"Just to be sure...stupid means I like you" He whispered and invited you to sit with him. When you hopped on the barrell, he put his arm around you.

As you sat there by the water's edge, the two of you talked late into the night, sharing stories, laughter, and sake. The noise of the world around you faded into the background as you discovered a deeper connection with Zoro, one that went beyond the chaos of battles and adventures.

And in that moment, you realized that sometimes, the most meaningful conversations happened not in grand gestures, but in the quiet moments shared between two people who cared for each other deeply.

-----

Epilogue (because I don't want to leave Silk's character as the only evil female catty villain)

Zoro and you eventually made it back to the company house and shocked everyone, first and foremost poor Sanji, with your new found closeness. It would be a long road until you could say the l-word to each other, but whatever your now relationship was, it was good.

It would still be a few days until you could sail from water 7 and you enjoyed the commodities of the city, walking through the busy streets, window shopping.

A store with beautiful cloth caught your eye and you entered. You looked at the exquisite goods when you heard a shop clerk approach "can I help you?"

"No I'm just look-AHHH" your voice and face must have derailed when you found yourself looking at an equally shocked Silk. A moment of awkward silence followed where you saw that her eyes were swollen and she looked really tired.

"Uhm, hi Silk, how are you?" You stammered.

"You know. Not so good" Silk looked unnerved. "What do you want?"

"I didn't know you worked here" you were caught off guard. But now that Zoro was with you, the anger against her seemed childish and mean.

"I'm Sorry if I was mean to you before" you said, surprising the girl, "I was unfair."

"No, don't. I was...overreacting, too. I'm sorry" She said thoughtfully. "He didn't stop talking about you. Really annoying, like he was hung up on you. That's why I was so pushy" Tears pooled in her eyes again.

Helpless, you tried to comfort her.

"Don't...he's just a stupid, stupid man" you told her.

"I know. That's why I liked him" she said, voice breaking.

You guessed that you weren't the best person to comfort her now, so you decided to leave.

"I'm Sorry. I should go now" you said.

"Yeah. Bye" She forced a smile and waved.

[zyrafowe-sny]

Gonna go nuts with this (sideblog just fyi is goldenheart-supremacy)

Ask game - 16, 17, 20

Thanks so much for the ask!

General note about headcanons: I very much enjoy hearing other people's takes (and sometimes entertain incompatible ideas of my own). There are so many potential backstories, so many ways the story could continue, and so many ways to develop worldbuilding.

16 - Do you have any headcanons about how Ballister and Ambrosius met?

I like to think Ambrosius witnessed Ballister defending someone (possibly Ambrosius himself - have not yet decided) from a bully or a thief. Ambrosius then told Ballister that he was brave and strong enough to be a knight, and that encouraged Ballister to break into the training grounds. After Ballister was caught, Ambrosius absolutely begged all the influential adults in his life - and he knows quite a few - to let him become a knight. ND Stevenson pointed out that Ballister's sword is an old repurposed Goldenloin sword, so at some point when the queen/the Institute were still deciding what to do with Ballister, Ambrosius was searching his family's armory for the perfect sword for him. Of course, when Ballister officially starts knight training, they become fast friends.

17 - Do you have any headcanons about how Ballister and Ambrosius started dating?

I think Ballister became aware of his romantic feelings first, but didn't want to say anything. Not everyone at the Institute approved of their friendship, and of course he was also well aware of the expectations Ambrosius faced as Gloreth's descendant. He valued their friendship, and didn't want to risk that for an impossible romantic relationship.

I am not immune to the fandom idea that one day Ambrosius became flustered after Ballister knocked him down in training. Maybe Ballister gave him a hand up and they accidentally got a little close. Maybe something subtle in Ballister's body language gave something away about his own feelings. Ambrosius already was Ballister's biggest fan, so he fell hard and fast. He also had to be the one to make the first move and convince Ballister that they could make it work.

I do think that they kept the romantic side of their relationship private before the knighting ceremony. They'd already been best friends for years, so them spending a lot of time together wasn't that suspicious.

20 - What do you think happened to the Institute?

Hah - if I ever manage to finish a WIP I'm working on, I might go into this in more depth. (EDIT: Whoops, I typed more than I expected.)

Generally, I think there'll be a period of debate over whether to try to keep the Institute mostly as-is (with a new Director), reform it, or eliminate it. At first, some people might still be afraid of what's outside the wall. Some people might be afraid of what would happen to public safety inside the wall if the Institute were eliminated. Noble families might not want to lose some of their status/influence, which was highly tied to the Institute.

On the other hand, the Institute was burning through so many resources for a threat that by all appearances wasn't actually real - it might be better to use that money for a better cause (schools, libraries, social programs, etc). Video footage would also show that most of the damage to the city was caused by the Institute, not Nimona. People might not be aware of just how much surveillance is going on - they might not be happy if that comes out. There may already have been some commoners who were critical of the Institute/the political system.

(All of this is also so closely tied to the need for police reform/the defund-the-police movement, at least in the United States.)

I lean towards dissolving the Institute and transforming its pieces into new organizations with better oversight. For instance - former Institute knights could form sports leagues if they want to keep duels/tourneys/etc (and start letting commoners participate). A new organization responsible for public safety would absolutely need to train new commoner recruits (and vet and retrain any interested knights) to deescalate instead of going straight to shooting. It's not actually clear that anyone at the Institute was all that good at crime solving (real police often aren't either). There might be coordinated exploration of what's beyond the wall, which may benefit from some former Institute resources/personnel. Academics could investigate old Institute records.

Peaceful handover of power is generally better than an all-out revolution, so while I definitely expect at least some pushback from the First Families, I think they would eventually concede to changes to the political system and the elimination of the Institute.

Here's the link to the Nimona ask game if anyone wants to send or receive asks!

[everywishway]

My Opinions on the Percy Jackson Show

Short answer: I like it, but I have issues with it to which i am mostly blaming Disney. I grew up with this series for a decade, it was my first fandom and I love the books so much so don't kill me pls. Overall, i prefer the musical to this (maybe im just a tech theatre nerd). I hope the show gets better as it continues. If you want the nitty-gritty of my opinions (why really) continue reading

Ok, issue number one is the pacing. Like, Holy Fucking Gods this was going a mile a minute. Even the movie had better pacing and these first two episodes are the same length as half of the Lightning Thief movie. Why is it running so fast like, baby, slow down, you can let us ruminate and have fun here.

Also, stemming from this is the lack of humor and wit compared to the book? Like, Percy is naturally charismatic, funny, and witty and so is Walker?! Like, he was in The Adam Project with Ryan Renolds and he managed to keep up and sometimes outwit him. like, watch interviews of this kid, he's so fucking funny. there were a few moments "my dad is jesus" and "should i try again" being the ones to stand out but those are few and far between and not even as funny as book percy???

I feel like this was Disney not giving Rick enough time and episodes (I think this season should've been 10 eps if not 12) then Rick going "I'm refusing to let certain things go" which inadvertently made the first two episodes feel dull to me?

If I had my say, the whole first chapter was an episode ending with Percy getting expelled, then episode two was him going home and seeing his mother and the minotaur, then episode 3 at camp with Clarise and maybe capture the flag starting. Episode 4 would be capture the flag, then percy gets claimed, then he gets assigned to go on the quest. Each episode would be a part of the quest (bus and Medusa #5, ST Louis Arch #6 (you could cut this episode), Ares #7, Lotus Hotel #8, Underworld #9&10, Ares VS Percy #11 and Luke's betrayal #12)

Finally, all of the kids don't feel like kids. Like, in The Lightning Thief Percy and Annabeth were bickering the whole time over stupid, petty things and I loved that, where is that here? That's so important for the series, why do they feel so bland?! They are talented actors, what is going on

What do I like though?

Sally Jackson, objectively. She was perfectly casted and she has so much love in her heart for her son, she is my queen, I love her so much

Camp is so pretty! Especially the Hermes cabin, which felt so comfy and warm, I love it. exactly what 12-year-old Blue daydreamed about.

PERCY OFFERING THE BLUE JELLY BEANS TO HIS MOM <3

there is other stuff too but I just wanted to get my opinions off my chest to stop myself from boiling over. Can't wait to see if the series improves from here (but im somehow certain the musical is gonna be better tho imo)

[haldenlith]

Anyway, I come bearing more fic. Will I finish this one? Who knows! This follows Ardwynn after my abandoned fic, "Season of the Thief". I recommend reading that before starting with this, as there are some things that tie in. This is also a part of my "Flight of the Magpie" series, which focuses exclusively on Ardwynn. This is also all in a slightly canon divergent alternate universe. Everything takes place alongside major events, but the focus isn't on The Young Wolf. It's elsewhere. Very "Meanwhile..." This first chapter occurs alongside Season of Defiance events.

Also on AO3

Lysander’s Lackeys pulled back and vanished into the cracks and crevices like roaches, but not due to the tag team efforts of The Vanguard and The Magpies, but because a bigger threat appeared. A threat Ardwynn couldn’t calculate for, couldn’t steal, cheat, or talk his way out of.

A threat that snatched him and some of his people up and tossed him in a cage. That didn’t sit well with him, not one bit.

Misraaks directed Crow his way once they were rescued. Finding him was easy. He was the loudest, most obnoxious patient of the rescued that the medical team had to deal with. He was also the most injured.

“What do you expect? I don’t go down without a fight. The rest of them should’ve done that, too.”

“Ardwynn, they were scared.” A low growl of malcontent rumbled from Ardwynn. He was sore all over, inside and out. One of those stupid, buckteeth bastards broke his ribs. Then again, he did stab the guy. These Cabal were different than what he was used to, though. The others had fire and personality. He could insult them, have fun, get into a real fight. These assholes? … Something wasn’t right. Neither was the place they were tossed into. The scenery was all wrong. Cold. Strange.

And impossible to break out of. He tried, and tried, and tried. Until his knuckles bled. And then he kept trying some more, because he didn’t come here all the way from the Distributary, survive the Dark Ages, lose his friends, and pick himself up all over again just to die in some stupid holding cell or who knows what the hell was planned for them.

“Maybe you and your Magpies should take a break and hold out within The City? It’s safer.” Crow was just trying to help, but he was poking directly at salted wounds. What the hell were they good for if they couldn’t help the people OUTSIDE The City?!

No. Now his Magpies were just getting in the way and getting caught in the crossfire. He needed to get back to base. He needed to make sure it wasn’t compromised. He saw a bunch of those big uglies in tacky purple armor around nearby. It probably was compromised. They needed to move again. He needed to take stock of who was okay and who hadn’t checked in. He needed to… to….

“What’s a guy gotta do around here to get a drink?” Whatever Crow had been saying up until that moment had gone ignored. Ardwynn was too in his head to hear it. Which was exactly why Crow frowned at the thought of Ardwynn drinking. That’s the last thing anyone around here needed – a drunk Ardwynn.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now, Ardwynn. You need to just get some rest.”

“I don’t… I don’t have time to rest!! My people are out there and I need to pull them back and regroup. You folks with your twinkle-toes Light powers can do what you want, I got my own shit to sort out,” he snapped back to Crow, moving to get to his feet. He winced, but it he’d felt worse. Much worse. Crow was quick to try and stop him.

“Ardwynn, I’m serious. You need to rest. You’ll have to fight your way to your base, and you’re in no condition to do that. Let us handle things. The Queensguard are already planning another --” Every hair on Ardwynn’s body bristled at the mention of “Queensguard”, as there was only one “queen” in this system that would be working with Crow.

The Liar Queen. Mara.

Like hell he was leaving his people in her hands.

Ardwynn shoved past Crow with a snarl. He had work to do, and a crew to manage, and he wasn’t going to let some upstart lying woman and a bunch of overpowered immortals get in his way. He had to. He couldn’t be useless. Heroes can’t be useless. He won’t be useless.

He felt a sharp pain to the back of his head before everything went black. Crow didn’t want to knock him out, but he also didn’t want himcausing more trouble, or getting into more trouble, either. The idiot needed to rest. If he had to be forcibly knocked out to do it, then so be it. Though, he did make note to be more careful about mentioning his sister in any capacity around Ardwynn. He’d forgotten how much of an axe the man had to grind against her. He still wasn’t entirely sure what about, though he had some hunches. None of it was important right now. “The King of Magpies” needed to shut up and rest.

–

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE’RE DISBANDING?!” Billy slammed her fist down onto the table hard enough that even the pins in Ardwynn’s map seemed like they threatened to pop out. Kenta-2 wore a look of discontent on his violet duochrome faceplates, neon oculars resting on Ardwynn, narrowed.

“This isn’t like you. You fight your way here, call everyone back from the field, and… this? You’re not one to back down from a fight, my friend,” the Exo calmly stated, becoming the cold to Billy’s hot. Eurydice crossed her arms over her chest.

“While I agree that it’s weird, I think I get it. We lost two birds dodging fire from those weird pyramid ships. And, for the record, shooting at them did nothing. It was like we were shooting AT nothing. Still… it feels wrong to be throwing in the towel at a little resistance. Well, I guess it’s more a lot of resistance.” Billy huffed, looking between the four of them.

“That’s exactly my point! These bastards came into OUR HOUSE, shooting up our shit, taking our people… They don’t get to get away with that.” Ardwynn’s shoulders lifted as he heaved a heavy sigh.

He hated the idea.

He didn’t want to disband The Magpies, but he had time to think about it, to really think about it, both before and during his fight to get here. They could handle themselves against the weird Cabal, at least for a while, but Cabal, Taken, and Eliksni? That’s like getting boxed in from all sides, particularly against Taken. Taken were Guardian business. Guardian problems. That’s not counting the weird tech they’re carting around that Ardwynn couldn’t make heads or tails of. In fact, no one could. It seems The Vanguard are the only ones up on the matter. The Vanguard and… The Queensguard.

“I get your frustrations, but we have seven teams that are unaccounted for. Seven. That’s fourteen people that are missing. They’re either dead or captured, or fuck, I don’t know, possibly worse? I’m not putting any more people at risk when we can’t deal with the problem. If you’re itching for a fight that bad… I don’t know… Go join the folks down at The Farm.”

Billy growled. She hated this rock and a hard spot situation Ardwynn created. “If we can’t protect our own, the what the fuck have we been doing all this time?”

“If I may,” Kenta-2 lifted a hand as if to stop Billy before reaching up to idly fiddle with one of the horns welded onto his cranial plates. “You mentioned Guardians rescued you, yes?” Ardwynn nodded. “Perhaps… we use this? Lay low, pull our cards to our chest. Let them get our people back?” Ardwynn and Eurydice both eyed Kenta-2. Anytime he talked mostly in questions, he had other motives meant outside of the ones being stated.

Ardwynn had a feeling he was catching what he was throwing.

“… And infiltrate our agents into their merry band of ‘Queensguard’. The hard part would be getting a message to them while they’re recuperating, but that’s all it’d be.” Eurydice nodded slowly.

“Not a half bad idea. We could use some eyes and ears near that lot. Guardians tend to make trouble no matter where they go.”

“And good loot,” Kenta-2 added. “Though, I would suggest we move the base again, to somewhere a bit less… spicy. I don’t know how long we’re going to be able to keep them out and also keep ourselves hidden. They are a bit too close for comfort.”

“Tch, you’re tellin’ me. Not to mention those little one-eyed guys with the sniper rifles give me the willies,” Billy grumbled.

“Good points made across the board. I don’t see why we need to honor our old agreement with The Vanguard after this all blows over. Besides, their vaults are just so shiny. Where to move to, though…” Ardwynn planted his hands on his hips, staring absently down at the map of The EDZ. Most of The EDZ was dangerous, more so than their current location, even on a good day. They had to fight just to secure the base as it was. They didn’t have the resources to do that a third time, not and be down so many people, with the risk of losing more looming. The chatter of the other three talking amongst themselves, figuring out a location, provided background noise to his thoughts.

“Maybe you and your Magpies should take a break and hold out within The City? It’s safer.”

Crow’s words suddenly fluttered into his mind, and he perked. “Crow, you beautiful bastard, you were helping me and I was too dumb to see it at the time.” It made perfect sense. Their first base of operations – first official base of operations – had been in The City before. The Botza District. Before The Eliksni moved in (not House Light, the other guys). They had to leave because things got spicy, but now? … Now things were perfect. It was quieter, it was relatively safe, and people didn’t tend to pay much attention to that area anymore, now that House Light was there. It was largely Misraaks’s responsibility, and he was busy with this Queensguard business, so it wasn’t likely that he’d notice them for a while. At least, as long as they behaved.

Better yet, it was closer to Spider, so he could keep tabs on the bloated tick of an Eliksni.

The Magpies were also on fairly good terms with House Light thanks to providing them with Ether tanks, back when they stole from Spider on a more… regular basis.

Everyone looked back to Ardwynn as he muttered to himself. “You got an idea, boss?” Billy piped up.

“We’re going back to The City, back to our old haunt, if it’s still empty. It not, we find somewhere new to hunker down. Maybe we’ll even stay there, if the conditions work out.”

“Mmm, our old stomping ground. I certainly wouldn’t have a problem returning. I still remember the old smuggling routes,” Kenta-2 replied, giving a hum of approval and looking over at Billy. “Don’t you?” Billy offered a crooked grin.

“Those were good times. At least, until those four armed assholes ran us out.”

“Yeah, well, a different group o’ four-arms are living there, now. You think House Light is going to like us moving in next store?” Eurydice skeptically inquired.

“If Misraaks can be okay with Spider hanging out, he’ll be okay with us, I’d imagine. Besides, we’re looking to take the Underground, assuming no one’s moved in. Last I saw, House Light still isn’t particularly large. Our biggest possible roadblock would be Spider, honestly. Who knows where he’s housing his syndicate.”

“They can be… encouraged to leave, if need be. Gently.”

“I’d rather not stir up trouble. We’re benefiting from Misraaks — and The Vanguard, for that matter—being distracted. Let’s keep it nice and quiet like,” Ardwynn rebutted to Kenta-2’s remark. “So, we’re in agreement? Pack up and beat it to Botza?” He only waited for a moment for their words of agreement, before continuing, “Alright, then get everyone to start packing up. Take only the most valuable of supplies. Leave the rest. We wanna travel light. We still gotta dodge those pyramid goons on the way out.”

“Guess that means we’re leaving the nice Omolon crates, huh?” Billy lamented.

“Take what you need, leave the rest. I’m sure The Guardians will find it before anyone else will. They can consider it a parting gift as we… close out our original arrangement. I mean, we could always steal it back later. It’s not like they pay any attention to their things.”

“Boy, you got that right!” A round of laughter sounded around the table.

By the time Crow managed to have a moment to go after Ardwynn, after learning he had indeed slipped away as soon as he woke, he found the base empty. Fortunately for them, neither he nor The Vanguard had the time to deal with what mysteriously became of The Magpies.

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Batkit

Aliases / Nicknames: ??

Gender: tom

Sexuality: homosexual

Family: unnamed mother, unnamed father, Pebblekit (sister), Barkkit (brother)

Other Relations: N/A

Clan: WindClan

Rank: kit

Characteristics: impulsive, afraid of heights, afraid of birds

Murder Motive: wants quiet

Number of Victims: 1 (unintentionally)

Number of Murders: 1 (unintentionally)

Murder Method: leaving in the open for a hawk

Known Victims: Gorsekit

Victim Profile: noisy kit

Cause of Death: shock

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story: 

He didn't understand.

He knew that it was cold outside, and that's why he had to stay in the nursery, especially during the night. But nothing had to be explained to him further than that; he didn't want to go outside when it was cold anyways.

So he didn't know the dangers.

He didn't know that you could die.

When Littlesplash had her litter of kits, the tiny things were so noisy!

Batkit was awed at first to see cats so small, and was amazed that he had been so small himself, but soon enough the little things showed irksome behaviour. In particular was Gorsekit, who cried for no good reason day-in and day-out.

Too, it seemed everyone in the nursery was a heavy sleeper--everyone but Batkit.

He had enough. He wanted some rest, and to get the noise away from him. So he picked the little kit up and plopped him outside of the nursery, where the den walls would muffle his cries. And maybe the cold would teach him to be quite!

Then he was gone.

Batkit woke to the alarmed wailing of Littlesplash, who cried that she couldn't find Gorsekit anywhere. The Clan searched around and, feeling guilty, Batkit did as well.

But soon it became clear that Gorsekit wasn't still in the camp. Had he run away? Had Batkit upset him that much? Now that he wasn't so irritated from a lack of sleep, he felt bad for what he had done, made worse by everyone's panic.

Still, he didn't tell them the truth, too afraid of being scolded. Instead, while everyone was distracted, he snuck out of camp in search of the little kit.

There was no scent trials. Batkit was getting lost.

A shadow loomed over him, and before he knew it, he was being carried into the air. He screeched, alarmed, which caught the attention of Littlesplash and a patrol, who had left the camp earlier to search for her son.

The queen leaped into the air, unbalancing the hawk. It dropped him, then grabbed him again by the tail while Littlesplash clawed at it. It gripped onto him tightly.

Littlesplash slipped, but managed to grab onto Batkit. She pulled him down, trying to free him at the same time that the hawk jerked upward. Then there was a tearing, and an awful pain that made him screech, then they were falling to the ground.

Batkit and Littlesplash survived the crash thanks to the cats below catching them, but something was wrong. He was breathing quickly, everything was distorted. Cats around him were panicking, and soon, it was all dark.

Additional Information: 

--If not for the shock, he would have survived his injuries--though his apprenticeship would definitely have to be delayed.

--Story inspired by both A Thief in ThunderClan and Tallstar's Revenge.

In TS, Stagkit took Tallkit out of the den because he kept crying, and Sandgorse found him.

--Gorsekit was out in the open, small, and loud, so a hawk quickly found him and took him in a heartbeat. I figured that if they didn't smell the hawk in ATiT, they wouldn't smell it here, and not when it was a blink-in-the-eye swoop.

--He is adopted by Tarantulastar and Hummingbirdstar (likely seeing the Gossamer Trees as somewhere a bird could never get him because of all the mesh). He is adopted when he is three moons old. Charkit/lynx, his adopted brother, is also three moons old, though they do have an age gap of roughly two weeks. This also makes him an adoptive Smalljump grandbaby!

--Base: F2U Oriental Shorthair Cat Base by Grassdew44 on DeviantArt (his ref is more his adult form)

[francesderwent]

Ooh wait, is this a top ship guessing game now? I’m gonna throw Gen/Irene and Anne/Gilbert out there.💜

it's both! tbh I was afraid it I did it purely as a guessing game it would be too open-ended and frustrating

GEN and IRENE

I mean there's a MILLION moments, and not picking something from King seems insane, but for me?? the moment is the bit in Queen when he ducks into her tent, says "what luck you have" and kisses her on the lips

they are obviously fucked up (affectionate)

I mean. it's gotta be "hoax". "stood on the cliffside screaming 'give me a reason' / your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in" he longed to scream that he loved her! but the thief of Eddis was famous in three countries for his lies! and she loves every single one of his lies.

nobody else has the guts to begin their romance with a maiming and a kidnapping!!! TRULY they stand alone. but I suppose I will gesture vaguely to Dominic and Mary from Devil's Cub who at least managed to get the kidnapping in there (in every other way their vibes are polar opposite)

I might have had a different answer prior to Moira's Pen but now I'm kind of hankering for an AU where somehow they get married and then they do move into Eddis' library and raise the twins there and everybody's happy

oh they are definitely on the list babes: at number 7!

ANNE AND GILBERT

maybe true love didn't come into one's life with pomp and circumstance like a gay knight riding down!! maybe it came quietly to your side like an old friend!!! this is an especially good moment because it happens and then Lucy Maude is like "and then the veil dropped over Anne's eyes again and she went right back to being oblivious. ICONIC

they are wholesome (affectionate), but it's fucked up how they've ruined my life.

"Neck of the Woods" by Maisie Peters. "let go of sorrow and sadness and spite, I'm somebody taller tonight" AND "you found me out / oh, don't you know? / you're my whole house"

I'm struggling hard not to just give away a whole bunch of other people on the list and in the honorable mentions!! because everybody who's sisters with Anne and Gilbert has exquisite energy, guaranteed. so I'm going to point to a couple on the list that's already been revealed: Peeta and Katniss! Katniss thinks they're enemies and then can't wrap her head around love or make time for it, but Peeta's faithfulness is seen in all its romance in the end.

someone could do a really good modern AU of them. enough of crappy modern adaptations of austen properties and little women. give me at least three rom-coms based on anne and gilbert.

they are most certainly on the list, at number 2!!

[armandslestat]

Armand and Lestat Quote Masterlist

kinda self indulgent reference for every time lestat and armand think about each other/interact TVL-TVA

The Vampire Lestat:

This as a boy, as I had said, and he had a head of long curly hair, and he walked very straight and very simply through the silvery light and into the church. [...] His clothes were black velvet, once beautiful, and now eaten away by time, and crusted with dirt. But his face was shining white, and perfect, the countenance of a god it seemed, a Cupid out of Caravaggio, seductive yet ethereal, with auburn hair and dark brown eyes. p.200

He was all mystery to me as Magnus had been. Only he was beautiful, indescribably beautiful, and there seemed in him an infinite complexity and depth which Magnus had not possessed. p.201

He said, Come to me. Come to me because only I, and my like, can end the loneliness you feel. It touched a well of inexpressible sadness. It sounded the depth of sadness, and my throat went dry with a powerful little knot where my voice might have been, yet I held fast. p.201

I tried to penetrate his mind. He knew I was doing it and he threw up against me such strange images that I gasped. What was it I'd seen for an instant? I didn't even know. Hell and heaven, or both made one, vampires in a paradise drinking blood from the very flowers that hung, pendulous and throbbing, from the trees.  I felt a wave of disgust. It was as if he had come into my private dreams like a succubus. But he had stopped. He let his eyes pucker slightly and he looked down out of some vague respect. My disgust was withering him. He hadn't anticipated my responce. He hadn't expected... what? Such strength? Yes, and he was letting me know it in an almost courteous way. I returned the courtesy. I let him see me in the tower room with Magnus; I recalled Magnus's words before he went into the fire. I let him know all of it. p.201-202

[...] Yet he was clearly startled when he saw us at his side. And in the very act of being startled, he gave me a glimpse of his greatest weakness, pride. He was humiliated that we had crept up on him, moving so lightly and managing at the same time to conceal our thoughts. But worse was to come. When he realized that I had perceived this... it was revealed for a split second... he was doubly enraged. A withering heat emanated from him that wasn't heat at all. p.202

[...] He was perfectly the god out of Caravaggio, the light playing on the hard whiteness of his innocent-looking face. Then he put his arm around my waist, sliding it under my cloak. His touch was so strange, so sweet and enticing, and the beauty of his face so entrancing that I didn't move away.

"It wasn't that I wanted vengeance," he whispered. His face was stricken, his heart broken. He said, "But you came to be healed, and you did not want me! A century I had waited, and you did not want me!"

Queen of the Damned:

"A real devil among devils." Daniel laughed softly. With a subtle nod, Armand acknowledged the little jest wearily. He even smiled. p.110

[...]"And because you want to be with Lestat." No answer. "You know you do. You want to see him. You want to be there if he needs you. If there's going to be a battle..." No answer. "And if Lestat caused it, maybe he can stop it." Still Armand didn't answer. He appeared confused. "It is simpler than that," he said finally. "I have to go." p.111

Then as the others drew him away now, with embraces and kisses again - and even Armand had come to him with his arms out - p.432

I hadn't guessed Armand had been with him! Hadn't picked up the faintest indication that Armand had been there. And to think, whatever we might have said to each other, it was lost now forever. But then that couldn't be, could it? We would have our time together, Armand and I; all of us. p.436

"I think you should get out and do something," Armand said. "You've been holed up here too long." p.475

Tale of the Body Thief:

Then I envisioned Armand. My old enemy and friend Armand. My old adversary and companion Armand. Armand the angelic child who had created the Night Island, our last home. Where was Armand? Had Armand deliberately left me to my own devices? And why not? p.400

Memnoch the Devil:

"Are those the words Armand used, 'unbashed plea'? I hate Armand." David only smiled and made a quick impatient gesture with both hands. "You don't hate Armand and you know you don't." p.14

But the sight of the other astonished me. This was Armand. He sat on the stone park bench, boylike, casual, with one knee crooked, looking up at me with predictable innocence, dusty all over, naturally, hair a long, tangled mess of auburn curls. Dressed in heavy denim garments, tight pants, and a zippered jacket, he surely passed for human, a street vagabond maybe, though his face was now parchment white, and even smoother than it had been last we met. In a way, he made me think of a child doll, with brilliant faintly red-brown glass eyes - a doll that had been found in an attic. I wanted to polish him with kisses, clean him up, make him even more radient than he was. "That's what you always want," he said softly. His voice shocked me. If he had any French or Italian accent left, I couldn't hear it. His tone was melancholy and had no meanness in it al all. "When you found me under Les Innocents," he said, "you wanted to bathe me with perfume and dress me in velvet with great embroidered sleeves." ... "Yes," I said, "and comb your hair, your beautiful russet hair." My tone was angry. "You look good to me, you damnable little devil, good to embrace and good to love." We eyed each other for a moment. And then he surprised me, rising and coming towards me just as I moved to take him in my arms. His gesture wasn't tentative, but it was extremely gentle. I could have backed away. I didn't. We held each other tight for a moment. The cold embracing the cold. The hard embracing the hard. "Cherub child," I said. I did a bold thing, maybe even a defiant thing. I reached out and mussed his snaggled curls. He is smaller than me physically, but he didn't seem to mind this gesture. In fact, he smiled, shook his head, and reclaimed his hair with a few casual strokes of his hand. His cheeks went apple-perfect suddenly, and his mouth softened, and then he lifted his right fist, and teasingly struck me hard on the chest. Really hard. Show-off. Now it was my turn to smile and I did. "I can't remember anything bad between us," I said. "You will," he responded. "And so will I. But what does it matter what we remember?" p.157

I didn't like it that they knew each other at all. David was my David, and Armand was my Armand. p.158

"But the only thing that's brought Armand here is worry for you." ... "Is that so?" I said. I raised my eyebrows. "Well?" ... "You know damned good and well it is," said Armand. His whole posture was casual; he'd learned, beating about the world, I guess. He didn't look so much like a church ornament anymore. He had his hands in his pockets. Little tough guy. "You're looking for trouble again," he went on, in the same slow manner, without anger or meanness. "The whole wide world isn't enough for you and never will be. This time I thought I'd try to speak to you before the wheel turns." ... "Aren't you the most thoughtful of guardian angels?" I said sarcastically. p.158

"Lestat, if you need me - " Armand said. "If this being tries to take you by force!" ... "Why do you care about me?" I asked. "After all the bad things I did to you? Why?" ... "Oh, don't be such a fool," he begged me gently. "You convinced me long ago that the world was a Savage Garden. Remember your old poetry? You said the only laws that were true were aesthetic laws, that was all you could count on." ... "Yes, I remember all that. I fear it's true. I've always feared it was true. I feared it when I was a mortal child. I woke up one morning and I believed in nothing." ... "Well, then, in the Savage Garden," said Armand, 'you shine beautifully, my friend. And in my wanderings, I always return to you. I always return to see the colors of the garden in your shadow, or reflected in your eyes, perhaps, or to hear of your latest follies and mad obsessions. Besides, we are brothers, are we not?" p.164

"Because I hoped and prayed for you, that you would remain in that mortal body and save your soul. I thought you had been granted the greatest gift, that you were human again, my heart ached for your triumph! I couldn't interfere. I couldn't do it." p.164

Armand had once again decked himself out in high-fashion velvet and embroidered lace, the kind of 'romantic new look' one could find at any of the shops in the deep crevasse below us. His auburn hair was free and uncut and hung down in the way it used to do in ages long past, when as Satan's saint of the vampire of Paris, he would not have allowed himself the vanity to cut one lock of it. Only it was clean, shining clean, auburn in the light, and against the dark blood-red of his coat. And there were his sad and always youthful eyes looking at me, the smooth boyish cheeks, the angel's mouth. He sat at the table, reserved, filled with love and curiosity, and even a vague kind of humility which seemed to say: Put aside all our disputes. I am here for you. "Yes," I said aloud. "Thank you." p.370

The Vampire Armand:

And the sadness came over me again, heavily and undeniably, of having come to this forlorn and empty convent where Lestat lay, unable or unwilling to move or speak, none of us knew. p.11

"I suppose I'm glad of it. You guard him. He's never alone." I meant Lestat of course. p.13

"David, I came to see him. I came to find out how it was with him, and why he lies there, unmoving. I came -." I wasn't going to say anymore. p.19

Clad in red velvet it came, the very covering my old Master had so loved, the dream king, Marius. It came swaggering and camping through the lighted streets of Paris as though God had made it. But it was a vampire child, the same as I, son of the seventeen hundreds, as they reckoned the time to be then, a blazing, brash, bumbling, laughing and teasing blood drinker in the guise of a young man, come to stomp out whatever sacred fire yet burnt in the cleft scar tissue of my soul and scatter the ashes. p.352

[...]who became a wild blonde haired celebrity of the boulevard gutter theatricals, a lover of men and women, a laughing happy-go-lucky blindly ambitious self-loving genius of sorts, this Lestat, this blue eyed and infinitely confident Lestat[...] p.353

He destroyed us. He destroyed me. p.353

It was Lestat who gave me the key. Lestat who gave me the place where I could lodge my crazed and pounding heart, where I could bring my followers together for some semblance of newfangled sanity. p.354

There is Lestat first and foremost, the author of four books of his life and his adventures comprising everything you could ever possibly want to know about him and some of us. Lestat, ever the maverick and laughing trickster. Six feet tall, a young man of twenty when made, with huge warm blue eyes and thick flashy blond hair, square of jaw, with a generous beautifully shaped mouth and skin darkened by a sojourn in the sun which would have killed a weaker vampire, a ladies' man, an Oscar Wildean fantasy, the glass of fashion, the most bold and disregarding dusty vagabond on occasion, loner, wanderer, heartbreaker and wise guy, dubbed the 'Brat Prince' by my old Master- yes imagine it, my Marius who did indeed survive the torches of the Roman coven- dubbed by Marius the 'Brat Prince', though in whose Court and by whose Divine Right and whose Royal Blood I should like to know.[...] Lestat, not a bad friend to have, and one for whose love and companionship I have oftentimes begged, one whom I find maddening and fascinating and intolerably annoying, one without whom I could not exist. p.369-370

Now I knew that my hard-won peace of mind might be shattered by the contact with him, but he wanted me to come, so I went. p.381

But as we waited finally in the handsome high-rise apartment above St.Patrick's Cathedral, I had no idea how much more he could stip from me, and I hate him only because I cannot imagine my soul without him now, and, owing him all that I am and know, I can do nothing to make him wake from his frigid sleep. But let me take things one at a time. What good is it to go back down now to the chapel here and lay my hands on him again and beg him to listen to me, when he lives as though all sense has truly left him and will never return. p.387

I wanted to take him in my arms. I wanted to comfort him, to tell him wherever he'd gone and whatever had taken place, he was now safe again with us, but nothing could quiet him. p.389

As I sank down that morning into my own resting place, secure in clean modern darkness, I cried and cried on account of the sight of him. Oh. why had I come to his aid? Why must I see him brought low like this when it had taken so many painful decades to cement my love for him forever? Once before, a hundred years ago, he'd come stumbling into the Theatre des Vampires in the trail of his renegade fledglings, sweet gentle Louis and the doomed child, and I hadn't pitied him then, his skin scored with scars from Claudia's foolish and clumsy attempt to kill him. Loved him, yes, I had [...] But what I'd seen now was a devastation of the soul in his anguished face, and the vision of the one blue eye, shining so vividly in his streaked and wretched face, had been unbearable. p.389-390

"Let me go down into the streets, let me steak from some mortal, some evil being who has wasted every physical gift that God ever gave, an eye for you! Let me put it here in the empty socket. Your blood will rush into it and make it see. You know. You saw this miracle once with the ancient one, Maharet, indeed, with a pair of mortal eyes swimming in her special blood, eyes that could see! I'll do it. It won't take me but a moment, and then I'll have the eye in my hand and be the doctor myself and place it here. Please." He only shook his head. He kissed me quickly on the cheek. p.391

There was no denying the beauty of his smooth poreless sun-darkened skin, and even as the dark slit of the empty eye socket seemed to peer at me with some secret power to relay its vision to his heart. He was handsome and radient, a darkish ruddy glow coming from his face as if he'd seen some powerful mystery. p.391

Lestat, my Lestat - for he was never theirs, was he? - my Lestat was crazed and railing as the result of his awful saga, and held prisoner by the very oldest of our kind on the final decree that if he did not cease to disturb the peace, which meant of course our secrecy, he would be destroyed, as only the oldest could accomplish, and no one could plead for him on any account. No, that could not happen! I writhed and twisted. The pain sent its shocks through me, red and violet and pulsing orange light. I hadn't seen such colors since I'd fallen. My mind was coming back, and coming back for what? Lestat to be destroyed! Lestat to be imprisoned, as I had once been centuries ago under Rome in Santino's catacombs. Oh, God, this is worse than the sun's fire, this is worse than seeing that bastard brother strike the little plumb-cheeked face of Sybelle and knock her away from her piano, this murderous rage I feel. p.429 

I knelt down beside him again. I reached out, and without flinching or hesitating, I brushed his hair back from his face. I could feel the shock in the room. I heard sighs, the gasps from others. But Lestat himself didn't stir. Slowly, I brushed his hair, more tenderly, and saw to my own mute shock one of my tears fall right onto his face. It was red yet watery and transparent and it appeared to vanish as it moved down the curve of his cheekbone and into the natural hollow below. I slipped down closer, turning on my side, facing him, my hand still on his hair. I stretched my legs out behind me, and alongside of him, and I lay there, letting my face rest right on his outstretched arm. p.494

It was not differentiated or defined, this love, but only love, the love I could feel perhaps for one I killed or one I succored, or one whom I passed in the street, or for one whom I knew and valued as much as him. p.495

I climbed up. I rested my weight on my elbow, and I sent my right fingers slipping gently across his neck. Slowly I pressed my lips to his whitened silky skin and breathed in the old unmistakeable taste and scent of him, something sweet and undefinable and utterly personal, something made up from all his physical gifts and those given him afterwards, and I pressed my sharp eyeteeth through his skin to taste his blood. p.495

I knelt down and kissed his hair. He didn't move. He didn't change. I wasn't the slightest bit afraid that he would, or hopeful that he would either. I kissed him one more time on the side of his face, and then I got up, and I wiped my hands on the napkin which I still had, and I went out. p.499

At twilight, I rose, straightened out my clothes and returned to the chapel. I knelt down and gave Lestat a kiss of unreserved affection, just as I had the night before. I took no notice of anyone and did not even know who was there. p.500

At first I thought my eyes had deceived me, but very quickly I realized the identity of the figure who appeared as the gate opened and closed quietly behind his stiff and ungainly arm. He limbered as he approached, or seemed rather the victim a weariness and a loss of practise at the simple act of walking as he came into the light that fell on the grass below our feet. I was astonished. No one knew his intentions. No one moved. It was Lestat, and he was tattered and dusty as he had been on the chapel floor. No thoughts emanated from him his mind as far as I could figure, and his eyes looked vague and full of exhausting wonder. He stood before us, merely staring, and then as I rose to my feet, scrambled in fact, to embrace him; he came near to me, and whispered in my ear. His voice was faltering and weak from lack of use, and he spoke very softly, his breath just touching my flesh. p.519

[maxwell-grant]

Hi. Just found your blog--greatly enjoy your writing! Now, a question: Are there any popular female pulp heroes? What were they like? Thx in advance.

 Thanks! Well, popular is a strong word, most people start with asking "were there any female pulp heroes? like, at all?", the answer to which is, Yes!...Nowhere as much as there were male ones, and not in the traditionally accessed avenues for "pulp heroes", but yes, there were, I wrote a bit about them here. Not counting the female sidekicks of male pulp heroes because that's cheating, the most popular female pulp heroes are the ones that exist by proximity to that American pulp hero “scene”, which I must stress again, doesn’t really have that much to do with what pulp fiction was actually like during it’s heyday, but rather that amorphous concept of what people imagine a pulp hero to be like.

In that regard, a popular female pulp hero would have to be a character that managed to break through in some form and inhabit that pop culture archetypal space in some form, or at least linger around in some noteworthy fashion. To an extent, this is something that was achieved more by female villains, in particular H.Rider Haggard’s Ayesha as well as other characters like Shamblau, Black Margot / Princess Margaret of the Black Flame, and Irma Vep who made for memorable, impactful villains of popularity and status approaching that of the male heroes.

With that in mind, upfront I’d argue that there’s at least six unambiguously popular female pulp heroines, and those would be:

The Domino Lady, a masked Gentleman Thief who was a rare example of a female masked vigilante who was actually published in 1930s American pulp fiction. The Domino Lady is, predictably, the least popular of these, but she’s historically significant and fairly popular in her own right and usually featured in stories or images that place all the masked avengers together.

Pat Savage (illustration by Dan Schkade), Science Adventurer Doc Savage’s rowdy tomboy cousin, and Dejah Thoris, the famous princess of Mars from the John Carter saga (key progenitor of the Planetary Romance subgenre), who are kind of on the sidekick side of things, but there's been enough solo outings for them, and the two of them being fairly significant and influential characters in their own right, that I’m obviously not gonna leave them out.

Red Sonja (illustration by Donato GIancola), famed badass of Sword-and-Sorcery. She’s maybe the most famous by far pulp heroine of them all, the only one of these for sure that you could reasonably expect most people to at least know by name or imagery. And she is a 1970s Marvel Comics character who borrows her name from an unrelated character in a non-Conan Robert E. Howard story and her characterization from C.L. Moore’s Jirel of Joiry (1934). Another character we can add to the ever-growing pile of “characters who define the term pulp hero despite never actually appearing in pulp fiction” next to The Spirit, Buck Rogers, The Phantom, The Green Hornet, etc.

Sheena, Queen of the Jungle: Here also standing for the general popularity of Jungle Girls in general who usually take after her in some ways or inspired her in the first place they all just kinda blend together at some point

Barbarella: (no idea what archetype taxonomy I could use for her). You all know or have heard of her at some point and she gets grouped with these characters so often I couldn’t really omit her either. I’ve never seen the movie but I know it is an Italian production based on an erotic French comic that shoots for an American comic book style, and that strangeness is part of what made it fairly memorable. I’ve read a couple of Tales of the Shadowmen collections that feature stories with her as well.

Having named these, I’m also going to name six other pulp heroines who do not follow that mold so strongly and don’t overlap with these, and who were popular and significant in different ways:

Hunterwali: Hunterwali is one of the most significant action heroines in film history, as she was the premier starring role for Fearless Nadia, the most iconic action hero of 1930s Indian cinema and the archetypal action actress for Indian films, really one of the earliest and most significant action movie actresses period. Inspired by the Douglas Fairbanks Robin Hood serials, Hunterwali (1935) was a record-breaking blockbuster, with the character said to be “the most popular character of its time” and listed as "Bollywood's best loved character" in 100 years of Indian cinema by CNN-IBN”.

The character is a swashbuckling princess who dons the guise of Hunterwali, "protector of the poor and punisher of evildoers", to become a swashbuckling Masked Avenger bent on rescuing her father and beat up the evil prime minister villain. She runs around on horseback performing stunts like jumping over moving carriages, jumping a horse from a bridge onto the top of a moving train, and defeating 20 soldiers in one sweep with her whip (Fearless Nadia did her own stunts, mind you).

Brigitte “Baby” Montfort: Brigitte Montfort was a highly popular Secret Agent pulp fiction character in Brazil, probably the most straightforward “pulp hero” we have as the star of cheaply printed pocket edition books that arose in the 60s as an alternative to the paperbacks. Brigitte is the daughter of a 1940s feuilleton character (yes, the feuilletons were published here as well) named Giselle Montfort, a Mata Hari-esque spy who bedded Nazis for intel and was eventually killed via firing squad. Brigitte was a globetrotting reporter who secretly operated as a cunning, cutthroat CIA agent, a bikini-clad James Bond. The stories went so in-depth that it was a common rumor at the time that they were written by a CIA agent employed by the editors, and Brigitte lasted about 30 years with circa 500 novels to her name, making her one of the most long-lived pulp characters.

Ethel King: Ethel King was a rare, prototypical Great Detective who debuted in German dime novels and was subsequently published all over Europe for the following two decades. Driven to fight crime by the loss of her father and fiance, she was referred to as “the female Sherlock Holmes” as well as “the female Nick Carter” for French and Italian publishing, and she takes after the two of them in a way.

Like Holmes, she employs brilliant reasoning and goes around with a wisecracking assistant (in this case her governess), and like Carter, she’s also assisted by a younger sidekick (an orphaned cousin she raised on her own), she gets into gunfights and has a tough attitude, and she deals with a massive Rogues Gallery of horrid villains with wild names and even wilder characters (including three evil doppelgangers). She would go on to become a formative influence not just on future female detectives, but also the German hefteromanes that spun out of the dime novels.

Nila Rand: Perfume, pistols and mystery in one package, she was created by Hedwig Langer under a pseudonym, one of the only two characters in this list created by a woman. Nila Rand was a thrill-seeking adventurer Femme Fatale featured in Scarlet Adventuress who dabbled in arms dealing, smuggling of stolen goods and gunfighting.

"She did not know which intrigued her the more, the alluring promise of exotic love, or the threat of terrible and violent death. The last was as necessary to her as the first. Nila Rand had played too long for high stakes and it needed the element of danger to make the game a thrilling one." - The Shanghai Stakes (1935)

Nila is a key example of what separates the femme fatale in the pulps from the films (far more frequently protagonists, rarely the sidekicks or girlfriends but instead solo operatives or leaders of their own gangs, rarely deliver on actual sex and instead manipulate men's desires to their advantage), but far more important than that is the fact that she was openly acknowledged to be bisexual, which goes without saying was extremely rare in any form to find in the pulps in any form.

Even in these spicy/erotic pulp magazines that were all about sneaking stuff past the radar (and thus a place where, for better or worse, writers could play around with topics other magazines would shy away from and would be unthinkable outside of pulp magazines). Finding a queer pulp hero from any period prior to the 1970s, let alone a protagonist and not an outright villain, is bordering on impossible, but it exists and here she is.

Lu Siniang: A lot of Wuxia/Nuxia storytelling is born from similar undercurrents of working class escapism and anger and desire for justice that led to many of pulp fiction’s most prominent heroes, and Lu Siniang is a particularly powerful embodiment of that. She was spun out of real life circumstances involving the execution of Lu Liuliang and his entire family for  “literary crimes” against the Qing government, and the subsequent  death of the Yongzheng Emperor, and said to be Liuliang’s daughter who had managed to survive away, learn martial arts and join/form a group of revolutionaries in a mission of revenge that culminated in her skewering/beheading the emperor. No Wuxia/Nuxia protagonist had dared to go that far before.

The story was reprinted several times following it’s inception, becoming particularly popular in the 1910s-1940s as the character would star in the   Lu Siniang  / Fourth Madam Lu serials starting in 1940, that comprised the first Chinese film franchise and film series about a fictional character, as well as one of the first action film series focused on a female protagonist alongside Hunterwali mentioned above.

Pussy Fane: The only other character in the list created by a woman. She was created by prolific romance writer and editor Jane Littel, who was repeteadly stressed  to be the "longtime companion" of another pulp romance writer Margaret Wallace (one of the pseudonyms Margaret wrote under was called "Margaret Littell", make of that what you will), with Pussy Fane being a short-lived attempt to combine crime and romance.

Pussy Fane is a Proto-Superhero from 1931, a beautiful escort/party girl who grew up in the circus among jungle cats and is forced to deal with blackmailers and gangsters. She regularly douses herself in perfume to mask their scent, and is burdened with regret and sorrow over her upbringing and nature, repeteadly hearing others refer to her as inhuman and more than half cat. She is also superhumanly strong and athletic, said to have the strength of 20 men, and she also regularly rips off the arms of would-be-rapists.

Yes, it’s a tragedy you’re only just now hearing about this character, it’s a damn shame the stinky classy-yet-feral woman who runs around ripping off the arms of grubby rapist gangsters missed her call in pop culture stardom as did so many of these.

So here there are, 12 female pulp heroes all encompassing different archetypes, as well as different genres and countries of origin. There are more, yes. They are difficult to find enough info to write about, yes. Is the effort worth it? You bet. I find it imperative to shout to the world that these characters and others like them existed, that plenty of them were popular and acclaimed in their own right, even in ways that overshadow the American characters and defy our pop culture preconceptions of what pulp female characters all have to look like.

There was no archetype or type of story available to pulp heroes that was closed off to the women, not now, not a hundred years ago when Ethel King established new paradigms for the Great Detective and dime novel fiction before Hunterwali made action film history doing everything Douglas Fairbanks was doing and then some, not even well over a hundred years ago when Lu Siniang was beating The Count of Monte Cristo and all the ensuing dramatic masked avengers to the punch in backstory and over-the-top revenge. We only stand to lose confining these to the dustbins of history and standing by such a shallow perception of what could be done, and what was done, back then with pulp heroines.

[ramayantika]

Not even the Gods can escape the pain of death. Beneath my foot is a pool of blood with Jara's poisonous arrow tip partially jutting out of my skin.

The pain is unbearable. I had once lifted the Govardhana, but now I am too exhausted to try and pull the arrow out of my foot. I stare at the red blood that has surrounded my foot, drenching the lower ends of my yellow dhoti in red.

The poison is slow to kill me so I guess I have lots of time to ponder over the events that have transpired in my life. Jara, the innocent hunter is weeping beside me, his hands joined in forgiveness. Oh, who will make this hunter understand the ways of destiny and time. The one who undergoes birth is sure to die.

My eyes are fluttering, my breath feels heavy with each passing time, yet I manage to look down at the blood assembled down near me. It's dark red colour reminds me of life even in my time of death.

It's time to hand over the torch to the new timeline that is to begin soon. People from Dwapara are sceptical about Kali. I don't blame them though. Kali is going to be the age of darkness where the rich will prey on the poor, where the king will be a thief, where fools would be respected for wearing a guise of a learned man. In every human, there will be the demon lurking in them, yet I still have high hopes from the mortals who will exist in Kali. Inner battles are the toughest to win. You have no martial training, no arrows and swords to fight with your darkness existing within your body.

I am to go back and watch the age of Kali unfold. The wise sages, the sacred scriptures talk about the fierce battle of good versus evil. In every mortal, I reside and they reside in me. I am sure some thinkers from Kali yuga will wonder if God exists within all, then why let bad things happen. Why let crimes occur? Why should murder and thievery exist?

What is the Universe if not a play? This is the stage for Gods and humans alike. The Gods get to know everything while the humans immerse themselves in a lifelong quest to find what they truly are? Why do they exist? Every human, every heart is a character in this grand stage. They come to life through me and come back to me when the story is over. Darkness surrounds the stage for a while when the story is over, only to let the curtains move up again and welcome a new story again.

My lovely Gopikas from Vrindavan, Yashoda maiya and Nand baba, my friends from Gokul and Vrindavan, we will meet again some day some time soon. A new story will start again, and we will don new robes and play new characters.

My beloved wives who stood by me through thick and thin, we shall come back once again. Perhaps the next time I will write love letters to each one of you. I can feel my energy draining. The vital energy, Prana flowing through my body has reduced its pace. Only a few more moments and all of this will be over.

Over. I will be a part of poetries and ballads. I will belong to stories and paintings. Krishna will never walk on the same land again. Time is a circle but when it reaches the same point again, it doesn't repeat itself again. You and I will come back to the same place, maybe in the same flesh, yet we will have new pages added to our story. It is never the same.

The Great War. Who can ever forget that? Relations turned too sour that it caused bloodshed. I know many will blame me for not stopping the way. It's true I would have stopped young brides turning into widows. I could let mothers see their sons once more. Mata Gandhari would have her sons with her and some time later, Karna would have accepted Kunti and his brothers.

Draupadi, my sakhi, the queen of Indraprastha. I cannot forget you nor will history. Do you remember how you tied a piece of your cloth to my hand when I cut myself accidentally. Sakhi, tie the cloth again to my foot. Perhaps the pain will lessen.

Pandavas, my brothers, I hope sometime later, we come back again on this earth, but with no wars and exile periods. I wish if you were all here beside me.

Alas, I am going to die alone in this forest. I remember being surrounded with hundreds of people who wanted to have a glimpse of my face. But, here I am. Watching the blood droplets drop down to the ground under a tree with no friend and family beside me.

I, Vasudev Krishna will become a myth for everyone in the upcoming age. They will believe in the existence of objects they see and never the other way around. Go within yourself, understand the universe existing within yourselves and you will find me residing in you.

I can hear a faint sound of a flute. My eyes are droopy and my foot is drenched in blood. Jara is still in tears, his eyes fixated on my face. I want nothing much to sleep now.

Om shanti shanti shantihi.

*****

The sun of Dwapar had set permanently that day with the last breath of Dwarkadheesh Krishna. He died alone in a forest with none of his friends and families by his side. Krishna's golden city was nothing but a lore now, sung by priests and bards about a glorious kingdom on the shores of the mighty sea.

For some, his story will only remain like a legend, like those folk tales passed on from generations to generations. As Time sweeps the world, history turns into myth and stories. The Lord of Dwarka was no exception to it.

Yet, his memory is still alive in the hearts of the people who reside in Bharat. His songs will be sing until the end of time, be it is Prema geeta or the Bhagavad Geeta.

But, you must also know this. The day when the world stops remembering Krishna, the day nobody sings his songs anymore will be the day, the world will be officially doomed in darkness.

I see a peacock feather fluttering in the air. A sweet tune rings inside my ears. Krishna still remains in this holy soil of Bharata.

*****

I slept midway while typing this out because k fell too deep in it, so I hope this turned out good. I have no idea if this is going to hit you in the feels but I have always been curious about the part where Krishna dies. I know I will cry but yeah k want to know what he felt.

Anyway see you soon sometime

[pancakehouse]

thief remus / wolfstar AU (a snippet)

you’re a bandit like me,

eyes full of stars 

hustling for the good life, never thought I’d meet you here

it could be love 

- cowboy like me / t swift 

— —

Of all the people who had ever received a rare, coveted invitation to visit the illustrious Grimmauld Estates, very few had actually seen the inside of the manor. 

Lavish balls were thrown out on the sprawling open grounds. Tea parties took place in the rose garden. Business meetings were conducted over cigars and port in the pool house. Private rendezvous contained to the quaint (if quaint were synonymous with extravagantly fine) cottage, located just behind the tennis courts. 

There were stories, of course, that circulated through the town of Godric’s Hollow, on what exactly the noble and most ancient House of Black kept tucked behind those wrought-iron doors. 

Their toilets are diamond-encrusted and made of solid gold, was common to hear. I heard the housekeeper is one of the last Romanovs and being held captive, came one outlandish theory. The eldest son is an undercover agent for MI6 and earned his 00-status after saving the Queen from choking on a canapé, was popular with teenagers and elderly women alike. 

In fact, the aforementioned eldest son and subsequent heir to the Black fortune, one Sirius Black, was the subject of a rather large majority of all rumors circling the family. 

It was unsurprising. Sirius was gorgeous and refined, charming and intelligent; everything one might expect the son of billionaires to be. His clothes toed the line between cool and classic: collared shirts unbuttoned to his sternum, revealing the barest peak of swirling black ink. Trousers that clung to his body like several thousand pounds of custom, perfectly-tailored second skin.

Sirius had the kind of jaw and cheekbones others paid fortunes for, and his wide, quick-flashing grins made one want to spill all their deepest darkest secrets just for the chance to keep it on them a minute longer.

He handled the world's fervent attention as all would-be princes do: easily, and always manipulated in whatever way best served his current interests.

His interests which seemed, to one Remus Lupin, to primarily be aligned with pissing off his parents in every way manageable.

And he was quite successful at it, too, if the stories were to be believed. Everything ranging from drunken escapades in the Greek Isles that ended in marriage (and a very rushed annulment) to a fisherman's son, to Sirius very nearly tanking the family company's stock by publicly pledging a year's worth of revenue to local charities. Then there was an ill-advised incident in the bathroom stall of a club that led to Sirius being dubbed the ‘white powder prince of Slytherin Hills’ for all of two hours, before that particular story was killed entirely. 

In any case, it was not superficial gossip but a very different sort of rumor that led to Minerva McGonagall procuring a – well...borrowed copy of Grimmauld’s blueprints and smoothing them down onto the table that night. 

She tapped at the spot marking the small corner study on the second floor. “It’s in there,” she said, straightening her spectacles. “An Angel with Titus’ Features.” 

“Allegedly,” Remus added doubtfully, frowning at the papers. “I’m still not convinced they’re really keeping a Nazi-stolen painting just lying around in their country home. They can’t be that callous.” 

“I know,” Fabian agreed, peering over Remus’ shoulder. “You’d think a long-lost Rembrandt would at least warrant a featured spot in the Parisian chateau. Or maybe the penthouse in Singapore. Or even–” 

“A vault in Switzerland would have been the most reasonable,” Remus muttered, cutting him off. He shook his head, pinching a corner of the blueprint between his fingers. The whispers of that different sort of rumor had only reached the ears of The Phoenix earlier the previous week, and he was still having a hard time believing it.

An Angel with Titus’ Features, Rembrandt van Rijn: Last seen in Paris, 1943. 

Last seen, that was, until now.

The thing was, it wasn’t exactly a stretch. Once Hitler had been defeated, the spoils of war went, naturally, to the victors. Paintings and sculptures and priceless artifacts, all scattered across the continents and rewarded to only the most influential of Allies; original owners be damned. 

So, really, one of Britain’s most powerful families getting ahold of this once-thought-lost antiquity was not a novel concept. And if Remus had learned anything in his years with The Phoenix, it was that there was nothing the unfathomably wealthy enjoyed possessing more than things that didn’t belong to them. 

“Well, the Blacks have never been known for their reason,” replied McGonagall, then met his eyes knowingly. “And there is not much need for a vault when you have a fortress nearly as secure as the Tower of London.” 

Which, alright, fair enough. The Blacks held the caliber of power and notoriety that necessitated a certain level of security. The kind of security that included state-of-the-art camera systems and hidden trip wires and full-time guards stationed across the property. 

“Easy breezy for our dear Remus,” Fabian said, ruffling Remus’ curls. “A planning expert! The smartest in all of the lands! Hey, Minnie, did you ever hear about the time at the circus? Gid and I were trying to, er, liberate this elephant, right? And–” 

Remus groaned, pressing the heel of palm into his eyes until he saw spots. “Please shut up.” 

Surprisingly, he did. 

It should have been laughable, really, to even consider trying to break into Grimmauld Estates. But McGonagall had taken him in, given him a place to call home after his mother died, and although she’d never made him feel as if he owed her anything, Remus knew that he would never stop trying to repay her anyway. 

And it wouldn’t be his first time planning a way through security like that. It wouldn’t even be his first time planning a heist on that particular family. 

But that train of thought just made Remus’ stomach churn. So he looked down, refocusing intently on the table, before the prickle of dread could settle low in his belly. He picked up the sparse pile of grainy, unfocused photographs of the property’s perimeter. It was less information than they were used to working with, but it would have to do. 

“The main issue will be getting through the gate,” Remus said, biting his lip in thought. “From there, it should be simple enough. The cameras and guards are kept on patterned rotation, so that’s easy, it’s just – again – the main gate. But if you can get through there, the east-wing has a trellis that leads right up to the second floor,” he said, pointing it out to the others. “Fabian can cut through–” 

But McGonagall was already shaking her head. 

“Fine,” Remus conceded with a sigh. There was no gauging the stability of the trellis and neither of the Prewetts were exactly known for their delicateness. “Alice, then. She can make it easily–” 

Again, McGonagall was in quick disagreement. “I’m afraid it must be you, Mr. Lupin,” she said. “There’s no other option.” 

Remus stilled his bouncing leg and met her gaze incredulously. “He’ll recognize me in a second.” 

“Yes,” McGonagall agreed solemnly, her eyes unreadable. “Yes, I do believe he will.”

Remus gripped the photograph in his hand so tightly it started to crinkle. “...But?” he asked, as calmly as he was able. He saw, from the corner of his eye, as Fabian grimaced and quickly bolted from the room.

“But it’s still going to be you.” 

When no other information was forthcoming, Remus slumped in his chair and yanked on a loose curl. “Well, I suppose I can just pole-vault over the gates, hope I avoid electrocution, and then I can climb up the trellis–” 

Remus almost wanted to laugh when McGonagall sternly shook her head again, but he was starting to feel a little frayed at the edges. 

“Well, I’ve got no other ideas! If you’ve somehow obtained the ability to teleport, then by all means, let’s do that.” 

“There won’t be any need for teleportation this time around, Mr. Lupin,” she said finally, lips twitching in faint amusement. “Luckily, I have a much simpler alternative for you.” 

Remus grasped the card she handed him and froze. It was impossible to forge invitations to any and all of the Black’s events (he’d learned that lesson the hard way) as they were all sealed with the family crest that held inimitable coding to grant entry. A bit over-the-top, perhaps, but somewhat fitting for a family of tech conglomerates.

And there was Remus’ name, scrawled in perfect cursive, and that infamous green wax seal on the back. He blinked rapidly. “Where did you get this?” 

McGonagall hesitated and then said, slowly, like she was choosing her words carefully: “It was gifted by—an invested party. The most important thing is that it will get you onto the property. The rest, unfortunately, will be up to you.” 

Remus’ eyes flicked back to the table. The edge of a family picture, taken from a magazine spread years ago, was peeking out of one of the files. Sirius was in the middle of the photograph, arm thrown around his younger brother, standing tall and proud and grinning that famous grin. 

He looked younger there, more like the time Remus had last seen him. Heat flooded his cheeks as he remembered how it felt to have those grey eyes trained on him, tracking him across the room. The low, sharp timbre of his voice when he’d eventually approached, the cutting edge of his wit. 

Hours later, Remus had already been too far gone to see the hurt betrayal on that face. But he’d imagined it enough over the years. Many times. 

Remus sighed, dragging a thumb across the looping scrawl of his invitation. “I suppose I’ll be needing a tux then.” 

— —

hello! I have been painfully wordless for weeks, but my thief remus AU post from ages ago randomly got new notes, which reminded me it existed, so I’ve dragged this out of the drafts. 

this is definitely a bit more ridiculous than I remembered, but I had fun so whatever! to be continued (probably) xoxo <3

[bokettochild]

Violet

So y'all remember this animatic? Yeah?

I wrote a thing based off of it.

I'm not entirely sure how I fee about it, but y'all have shown how much you like my crack in the past, even if I wasn't sure about that either, so...

Here's Legend getting mistaken for a mom and pulling his brothers into a terrible impromptu acting adventure.

There are many things you do not do in Castletown.

One of those things, apparently, was taking Twilight with you, and next time he had a chance Legend was seriously considering muzzling their wolfish friend, in his shadow form or not.

He wasn’t the only one with that thought either apparently, although likely the only one who was thinking it out annoyance rather than utter and complete terror. Honestly, Twi needed to cut that protective streak of his in half, or he was going to be regretting it even more than he was going to regret this!

They’d all met thieves before, on the road, in villages, even here in Castle Town, and unfortunately Warriors’ central city was particularly full of them. The captain had explained it ages ago, something about the war displacing people and stirring up unrest with the refugees. It wasn't uncommon that someone got tired of relying on the crown for help, which, the captain had admitted sorrowfully, was rather slow in coming, despite all of Artemis’s efforts, to provide any sort of relief to the starving and displaced victims of the war. Legend had winced at that. Poor blokes, it had been similar in his own Hyrule when those trapped in the dark world emerged again, and even back in their Hylian forms, many of them had struggled to readjust to a world that had moved on in their absence.

It was little wonder than that those in the captain’s time faced the same struggle, especially after a bloody time war, but even so, it bothered him to no end that their group specifically had been the one that the idiot of a man chose to target. Honestly! They were all carrying swords for pities sakes! How did the sod even think he was going to catch a bunch of warriors unawares to steal from them?

Maybe it was because they were split.

It only made sense, after being dropped in the captain’s time, that they restock supplies. Both for practicality and to avoid suspicion, they’d divided the group into two to better run their errands, Time taking those less accustomed to bustling cities with him to gather food and potions, and Warriors leading the rest of them, those who could stand crowds at least a little bit better, to visit the blacksmith, fletcher, and tailor shops.

True to form, the captain strutted ahead with his scarf waving behind him, Wind tagging along beside him and chattering excitedly about something or other at the soldier. He and Four, however, had chosen to trail after, not for any particular reason other than both being extremely tired and maybe just a bit emotional.

In his own case, he hadn’t slept in a good sixty-three hours or so, and combining that with the stress of wandering around in an unknown place, he was a little more sensitive than usual and a bit put out as a result. Similarly, Four was fighting off his usual headache from their sudden switch, and ever since they’d pulled themselves out of the alleyway Hylia dumped them in, the shortest hero had worn his hood pulled over his eyes, mumbling softly under his breath in a way that was, unfortunately, unnerving Legend further and making him want, very much, to beg the other to stop.

That wasn’t an option of course, so he did something he hated almost as much as the saunter Warriors was using to get down the road.

He made small talk.

It helped, surprisingly, and while the four of them had run their errands, he chattered amiably with the smithy, who’d been willing to talk as long as he didn’t have to think too much on things. Legend could agree with that, and the two had spent the last half hour discussing if Four’s tunic really was red, green, blue and violet, as the smithy claimed, or red, green, blue and purple as Legend thought it was.

“It’s violet.” Four huffed, pushing the last bundle of arrows into his pack as they departed from the smithy’s shop and made their way back to the fountain at the center of town, where they'd agreed to meet with Time and the others.

“But it’s not!” He insisted, shifting the bundle of fabric in his arms and meeting the smithy’s gaze. “Violet is softer, duskier, a bit closer to grey or blue. That’s purple, plain as day!”

Warriors and Wind, for once, didn’t say anything, only exchanging grins every so often that the other two ignored.

Talking with Four was surprisingly pleasant, and ridiculously easy in comparison to talking with the others. For one thing, neither had to look too very far up or down to see the other, and as they’d found since their first dinner at the ranch, it was easy to say a lot with just a look. Subtle communication also went a long way further with the smithy than with anyone else, and it was a relief not to have to explain everything for once. Additionally, Four also liked reading, and unlike with most of their other brothers, they could actually have intelligent conversations with each other.

Not that that’s what they were doing when they’d trailed after the other two towards the fountain, but when they heard the snarl and resulting scream, the look the two heroes shared had carried as many words as a full two-hour lecture, while all at once conveying a single thought.

Oh boy, what did Twilight do this time?

What Twilight had done, he found out later, was spring a thief who had attempted to snatch the Sheikah Slate from Wild, who’d been a bit busy trying to calm his anxiety to really notice that one of the humans pressing close all around him was actually trying to steal it. That, naturally, was all well and good. The problem was the way Twilight had chosen to handle it and Legend swore there were days that Twilight forgot what form he was in; rather than pushing the thief away or grabbing ahold of them and confronting them, the gracious rancher had chosen to fling his entire body weight at the man and bite his arm.

Of course, that was only what Legend found out later, what he saw when the four of them managed to peek through the crowd, was Twilight standing there in full sight of the entire market with blood on his teeth and a man screaming in pain and terror at his feet.

Bravo, Rancher, bravo.

“Oof.” Wind winced. “That’s not good.”

“Shit.” Warriors swore, glancing around nervously and ripping his scarf off to hide in his pack.

Realization sprung on the vet like Twilight had the poor thief; Warriors was the hero here. If anyone noticed him, or any of the knightlier looking ones, they’d probably try and have them arrest Twilight. That was all well and good of course, as it would make a reasonable excuse to haul the rancher out of the way, but they’d be expected to call for help from some soldiers, and while they’d been planning on meeting with the queen while they were here, having Twilight presented to her as a feral, potentially insane, and definitely dangerous criminal was not the approach they were aiming for.

They needed a distraction, fast.

So, like the reasonable and totally mentally secure Hylian that he was, Legend shouted the first thing that came to his mind. “Violet!”

His three companions stared at him, and had he been capable, he would have stared at himself, but a desperate glance Fours way had the other drawing back, nodding slowly as Legend shouted again. “Violet? Honey?”

Warriors looked at him like he’d lost his head, gripping Wind’s shoulder firmly as if worried he’d have to pull the kid back from the apparently mad veteran.

Thank Din for teaching him acting years ago, even if it was all stage performing, but he was counting on it to get him, and Twilight, out of their respective messes, even if that meant building his higher before he could escape. At any rate, he’d caught the attention of a few people with his panicked shout. Turning to the nearest Hylian that wasn’t one of his group, he gently tapped the woman’s shoulder, letting his panic and everything in general spill over into his face and voice as the woman met his gaze with a startled look.

“Ma’am, I’m looking for-” Oh Four was going to hate this. “-My child, Violet. Have you seen a blonde Hylian child, so tall?” He lowered his hand to approximately where Four’s head would reach. “I’ve been looking everywhere!” He forced a fake sob into his voice, glancing from the woman to the surrounding crowd, and Warriors and Wind in its midst.

Wind was stifling a laugh behind his hand while Warriors stared in utter shock.

“Oh my,” The woman touched her cheek, clucking lightly and patting Legend’s hand in a consoling manner. “You poor dear! I haven’t seen a thing but just give me one moment.” The burly housewife turned, still patting Legend’s hand gently as she murmured something to the women behind her, before turning back to Legend with a sorry expression. “None of my friends have seen your little one, dear. But-” The woman turned and, with all the force and volume of a cow, hollered at the top of her lungs to the crowd as a whole. “Hello? Yes, this woman is looking for her daughter!”

Woman?!?!?!

“Her name is Violet! She’s-” The woman blinked, looking to Legend with a worried look as several other market goers turned to stare, many of them women with looks of pity and understanding that was making him wish he’d stayed silent. Fortunately, his ruse had startled them out of staring at the sight of a mauled thief as worry for a poor young mother and her lost daughter took its place. “She’s how old?”

Legend fought the protest of female pronouns, both on Four’s part and his own, but only in his head. Outwardly however, he covered his face with the hand not being smashed by the farm-wife's own. “She’s four.” Shoot him, he was saying whatever came to mind because he was panicked, alright?

A snort could be heard behind him, earning disapproving looks from the crowd that soon shifted to pity as Wind too joined the act, turning his snort into pitiful sniffling as he clung to Warriors’ hand, looking for all the world like a child who’d been to the market too long and wanted to go home, but was also panicking at the loss of their sibling. “Have you all seen my sister?” The sailor blubbered softly, actual tears spilling down his face as he pouted, expression making his act so believable that no one even questioned his height. As if to make the act more convincing, Warriors wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulder, his own face stiffening into something that could either be gas or worry, Legend was a bit on the fence.

“What’s going on here?” Legend wished that was Time stalking towards them in full armor, but it wasn’t, it was a Hylian Soldier, staring at the crowd with a grim frown on his face as he turned to Legend, standing in its center.

Oh well, those who crack under a tough audience get tomatoes to the face; he just hoped Wars would keep playing along. “My daughter,” He sobbed into his hand, pulling the other free from the housewife to properly cover his face. “She- My baby- I can’t find her anywhere, Sir!” Later, Warriors would begrudgingly admit that the look Legend shot the soldier was enough to break any heart as the vet stepped forwards, grabbing hold of the man’s arm with all the desperation of a worried mother. “Please tell me, have you seen a little girl? She’s in her favorite dress, the colors of the goddesses, red, green and blue?” He motioned down at his own tunic, skirt, whatever one would call it. “There’s a violet corner too, I made it for her myself- oh my poor baby! I can’t seem to find her anywhere!”

The grizzled soldier quickly melted under the power of tearful violet eyes, and he too gently patted Legend’s hands as if he thought it would do any good. “I’ll have my men look for her right away, ma’am. How old would you say she is?

“She’s four.” He reaffirmed. Might as well stick to his original story.

“So tall?” The farm-wife motioned, hands lowering a bit more than Legend’s had, but the woman was trying to help, so he couldn’t really be upset with her for getting it wrong. At this point though, he was a bit worried about where Four actually was, because he’d expected the shorter hero to make an appearance sooner rather than later so the act could end.

“Right.” The man nodded, pulling himself loose as Legend brought his hands to clasp in front of his chest in an imitation of the maids he’d seen worrying about the halls when Fable went missing. “We’ll do everything in our power to find your little one, madame, you have my word.” The soldier bowed, kissing the back of the vet’s hand graciously before moving back into the crowd and snapping orders at the soldiers stationed around the market.

People buzzed by, spreading the word of ‘little Violet’s’ disappearance as Warriors and Wind pushed forwards to where Legend stood.

“Really, vet?” Warriors murmured lowly.

“I panicked.” He admitted softly, as to avoid anyone noticing as he wrung his hands. “But seriously, where is ‘’Violet’? I thought he’d have appeared before it became a big thing.”

The captain frowned, settling a hand on his shoulder carefully and standing on his toes to look over the crowd as Wind giggled at the scowling veteran. The minute he shot a look down at the sailor though, the kid had picked up his role as smoothly as if he’d never dropped it. “I’m worried, mom.” Wind blinked past fake tears, and had he not needed to remain in character, Legend would have scowled and flicked the kid’s nose for the tease.

“I am too, honey.” He sighed instead, ruffling the sailor’s curls and looking over to where the others had been. Time and the others had disappeared into the crowd again, likely trying to keep a low profile and laughing their asses off at Legend’s expense while Time and Sky scolded Twilight.

“Mama?” A small voice called out, and the crowd, and he meant the whole crowd, the whole freaking crowd of several hundred people, froze as a small face peeked out from an alleyway, the smithy’s hand coming up to rub at his shimmering purple eyes with a sniff. “Mama?”

“Violet!” All three heroes surged forwards, Legend sinking to his knees and wrapping Four in a hug, taking the opportunity when his face was hidden from the crowd to scowl. “About time you showed up.” Aloud for the crowd however, he let sobs pitch his voice hysterically. “Oh honey, you can’t run off on mama like that! I was worried sick!”

And as if to put the icing on the cake of shame, one of the men in the crowd smiled softly, patting Warriors’ back with a friendly smile. “Your wife is quite the caring mother, isn’t she? Ah, you’re a lucky man, Mr.”

Legend forced himself to not blow their cover, no matter how little they now needed it with the others safely out of sight. Breaking character meant causing drama that they didn’t need. ‘Violet’ had been found, the cute little family would depart, people would calm. But if the worried mother turned out to be a screaming teenage boy and the lost daughter to be a smithy apprentice with a height problem, people would likely riot. So instead of turning around and giving the man a piece of his mind, he pushed forwards, hefting Four in his arms (the smithy sank into him with a sigh that couldn’t have been faked) letting the smaller hero nestle against him, hood hiding the smithy’s face from view as he pulled them both up, adjusting his arms so as to not drop the other.

Man, he was glad he’d put on power bracelets today.

“She is indeed.” Warriors forced out, a strained smile on his face as he settled his hand on Legend’s waist, stiff, cold and incredibly awkward. “We’d probably better head off, dear.” If the captain smiled any harder, he’d break his teeth. “Or the inns will all be full.”

It should have ended there, it should have. Legend was so ready for it to end (although Four was warm and a calming presence as the smithy began to doze against his chest), but because fate loved to mess with him, it didn’t.

“You’re looking for a place to stay the night?” The Man-Who-Needed-To-Be-Kicked cocked a brow. “I run an inn here, just across the square. I’m sure we can find a lovely little family like yourselves a place to rest, you and our wife must be exhausted after such worry!”

Warriors, sages curse and bless him, nodded along stiffly, gently pulling him along by is waist after the Blasted-Innkeeper-Who-Would-Be-Kicked as the man chattered about family discounts and free dinner. Legend’s shoulders only lowered when a free trip to the bath house was also thrown in ‘complimentarily’.

He regretted it when someone pointed him to the ladies’ side of the bath-house (think heavens it was empty that early), and he was about ready to strangle something or someone when the others joined them inside, stuck with a regularly priced room, and the smithy and vet both were bombarded with teases as Warriors sat looking utterly and completely disgusted.

“They thought we were married....”

Legend groaned, flopping over on the other side of the bed with a grimace. “Gross, right?”

“Yeah.”

"We’re forgetting this ever happened, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Regardless, no one ever let them forget it happened.

Legend was buying Twilight a muzzle, and he was pretty sure Wars would be willing to help.