#more crimson dawn rock star au

[vampyrebug-art]

it's time i got back and i don't even know how i got off the track

[binniesthighs]

➵ minho, son of hades ➵

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x lee minho

Genre: fluff n’ smut

Tags: demigod au, inspired by PJO, sonofhades!minho, softdom!minho, mentions of death, blood, and the underworld, outdoor sex, unprotected sex (stay safe lovlies!), breath play, hand stuff (r receiving), marking, cockwarming at the end 

Word count: 2k

demigod skz mini-masterlist coming soon

{did you bring the mcdonalds?}

Though you had long forgotten, someone had told you once that there is always light in the darkness, you just have to be the one looking for it. But, what if it was the darkness in that light that sought you?

You had forgotten meeting him in the first place, but now he was everywhere, in the dawn and the dusk, in dark corners that you used to fear, but now welcomed. Reflected in his eyes was hellfire: he singed with burning edges but froze over with a bite. You should have been scared of him, as any sane person would. 

In those creeping tendrils of shadow, ebony wisps of smoke where the ones that entangled their fingers in yours. His hands were cold wrapped up in pale white skin that wasn’t stark, but rather mimicked the moonlight he had brought you to. 

Silver dewdrops were sprinkled at your feet where they clung to the blades of youthful spring grass. The chill of the night was just enough to make you shiver, but having gotten used to him, you could handle the cold. He tugged at your wrist, saying nothing, but twisting between the slabs of limestone and concrete. 

“Respect the dead. Just because they’re gone, it doesn’t mean that they weren’t people too.” 

His reminders would linger on your mind, much like the ways that he would tell you stories about what it was like...the underworld. Having been there so many times, you would have thought that it would have made him jaded, or broken him in some kind of way that made the pieces of him just a bit disjointed. But, it never did. 

A thin fog held over the cemetery just barely above your shins, and the humidity stuck to your bare legs. Wings flapped above to two of you: birds or bats, you couldn’t tell, but it somehow felt comforting knowing that you’re weren’t the only ones awake at this hour. Amongst the chirp the the crickets, the little string of silver and brass keys jingled at his waist. 

He had lead you deeper, nearest to the edge of the little maze of stones, to a pure, marble white gazebo cut from the smoothest white rocks. The stone itself appeared to glisten like the foamy crests of waves. In the middle, was a single large bench of the same cut. 

“Lets sit here for a while.” 

You know what that strand of skeleton keys meant, each one bearing the symbols of Hades. “Minho, I-I know what you’re going to say--” 

“--I have to go back. But, this time it won’t be for long.” 

“You can just...stay? Just for one more day?” 

An exhaustion dragged at Minho’s eyes, the kind that you had seen many times before on him. Even with wrinkles under his eyes, they were still set aflame with the same passion that each of the children of Hades held. 

“It’s important.” He simply answered, raising his freezing had to caress down your cheek. “You know that.” 

“I just wish you wouldn’t...wish you wouldn’t...” 

He had drawn you into his chest, a gesture which had felt different to you than it had with others. From a boy who walked the line of life and death so thinly, being close to him like this was your tether, your promise. His heartbeat thumped softly beside yours, and it was enough. 

He took your hands into his, “I got you something.” 

“You didn’t have to--” 

“--Take it. I want you to have it.” 

The sting of the metal necklace startles your skin. It was a simple sliver chain, but inlaid on the charm was a small garnet gem that sparkled like stars, resembling that of a pomegranate seed. 

“It’s gorgeous...”  

“-Pulled it out myself.” He swept aside your shirt collar to bring the clasps around your neck, then traced adoring fingertips over where it crowned your skin. His weary expression gave you a proud little smile. “It looks amazing on you.” 

“Why does this make it seem like you’ll be gone much longer than you say you are?” 

Minho sighed out with eyes cast to the rooftop of the gazebo. Etched into the stone was the insignia of his father: the pitchfork. You had been pretending not to look at it too. Once more, a hopeful little laugh slipped past his lips. 

“I thought that you knew that I’ll always come back to you? And they can’t harm me down there.” 

“You and I both know that’s not true.” 

“Don’t you trust me at all?” 

“Am I not allowed to worry?” 

After a moments pause, and the resounding sound of the hissing cicadas, he answered, “You are.” 

You should have been terrified of him. Even though you had forgotten meeting him, there was one thing that you had never let go of, and something that many misunderstood. In him, there was benevolence: something so deeply tranquil about the thread to be cut over life and death. You had never been fearful of him. 

The cold marble burned slightly at your thighs. 

“I miss you too when I leave. You’re the reason; you’re what keeps me coming back here so I’m never wandering. Understand?” 

The world turned a blur, and his fingers wiped at the tears cascading down your cheeks. 

“Please don’t cry.” He kissed at the salty tears in the corners of your eyes and cheeks as if he were healing the scars made by the stains. 

“I’ll miss you too. Like I always do.” 

“All the more reason for me to hurry back.” 

You scooched into his chest once more, taking a fistful of his cotton white shirt. 

“You always know what to say.” 

His hands took the sides of your face simply and carefully, hushing his lips lightly into yours like a whisper, like the way that the evening breeze got tangled in the branches of the birch trees. Soft and delicate like rose petals he kissed into your lips in the way that he would keep the shadows of the world at bay just for you. Minho wove delicious webs of want from corner to corner of your mouth. The taste of his tongue too bit like that fruit of the underworld, but to you, it had never tasted sweeter. 

With your hands weakly clinging to his shirt, he uttered, “May I have you one more time?” 

The fog had lifted over the cemetery, and you nodded right back into his lips. 

He rested his hand behind your head where he laid you down against the cool stone, the sensation giving rise to goosebumps on your skin. One by one, he laced his fingers between yours to your side while he returned back to your mouth to lend it his warmth. There was a mischievous little grin that teased from his lips to yours, then traced down your jaw to the twitching vein on your neck. With your closed eyes, all you could see was crimson and all you could feel was the way the he pulled at the skin of your neck, drawing forth those little marks he had given you dozens of before. 

Once he had finished painting your skin with his adoration, he kissed at each spot. The tingling sensation of his saliva on your neck mixed with the evening air sent shivers down your sides. 

The same cold fingers came exploring up the fabric of your shirt and swirled over your skin so lightly that you felt your whole body buckle. 

The evening’s breeze swept past you once more and his curious hands sent mewls from your mouth to mix with the symphony of the evening, but it was all for him. It only heightened once his hand had skillfully popped the button of your shorts, and his curious fingers delved inside further. He rubs at you purposefully, slowly, with fingers getting muddled in your arousal, teasing at how painfully needy you have become for him. 

“My love, there is nothing on this earth or in hell that will keep me from coming back to you. I’m just as much yours as you are mine.” 

You fight the tears that threaten your eyes, merely laughing out to avoid them. 

“You really do always know what to say.” 

“But I mean it.” He drags the pad of his fingertip over your slit. 

The marble is frigid under your bare legs and ass once he rids you of your bottoms, freeing more space for his hand to trace over the swollen skin of your sex. His lithe fingers feel intoxicating where he curves into you after wetting them with his mouth. Every electric little response from you and each half-uttered whimper and moan he lavishes in. In his obsidian eyes, you are everything that makes up the expanse between his two worlds. 

His other hand rides up your body to clasp around your neck, applying just as much pressure until your choked gasps test his own will. 

The keys on his beltloop fall to the floor with a metallic sounding clank. He sits, marveling at the vision of you before him, bathed in moonlight, and your chest throwing itself to every one of the gasps which chase the last. Minho looms over you like the shadow of coming night, and you welcome him with open arms.

Even like this, he should have terrified you, but never him, never the one who had guided you through the darkness hidden in the fissures of light. 

Minho gives himself all to you, coaxing himself into you deeply and completely: a feeling so whole that it must be impossible. Beside you, the earth resonates with cracks and fractures which send out little earthquakes amidst the slabs of concrete and little bouquets of wildflowers. A golden glow illuminates against the birches and the oaks. 

He’s lost himself in you, rolling deeply over your core as those branches bow in the wind. He’s cracked open Hell itself while he slips further into you. 

“M-minho--” 

“No.” He commands, and the golden glow illuminates his face, “Look at me.” 

He bites into your lip kisses of his own careless and breathy moans. 

“Look at me.” 

He renews his pace with the ever-growing spectral glow threatening to break the surface. The jet black strands of his hair bounce a little as he fucks you into the slab of marble, giving you no pause at all. 

“I-I’m--Minho--” 

The thin sliver chain of your necklace threads between his fingertips where briefly studies it’s shine. He’s kept the shadows away this long, now, as he finds himself near the edge too, the atmosphere turns heavy. Minho changes to lend your leaking and twitching sex the attention that it desires, and you unravel, just a little at first, then all at once. A mess of inhales and exhales flutter out of your mouth then your teeth catch your lip accidently, drawing just a little blood. Quickly, he uses his thumb to rub away the little red dot while chuckling, 

“Don’t get too carried away darling.” 

You look directly in his eyes as you shudder underneath him to plead wordlessly for what he knows you want. You can barely manage the words, but you know it’ll be all that it takes. 

“Feel you-inside...I-I want you to--” 

With one of his freezing hands, he hikes your thigh up to find his perfect angle, grazing you deep inside. White noise fills up your head when he drives one more orgasm out of you, turning you inside out into a proper, quivering mess. The marble doesn’t feel as cold anymore when he cums inside you with shaking thighs and a heaving chest. The pitchfork symbol above your heads catches your blurry vision, but so does the peaking red and yellow sun on the horizon that melts into the emerald tree line. 

Minho holds you into him for as long as he can manage. Unspoken words fill the air between you while you’re still connected as one. 

“There’s...nothing else I can do to convince you to stay longer with me?” Your fingertips find their way through his sweating scalp. 

He nods no with an type of acute sadness in his eyes while he memorizes your features for what he thinks to be the last time in a long while. 

“I can’t stay any longer. The business of the dead is much more different than the living.” 

Just past his shoulder, you discover three or four fireflies flickering like floating candles: the light in the dark: and you weren’t even looking for it at first. 

“Then at least, can I just ask until the sun rises? Will you stay?” 

He plants one last kiss upon your forehead, “Until the sun rises. 

[themurphyzone]

BatB AU: A Provincial Life

Summary: It’s an ordinary day in ACME Village for Pinky. Until it isn’t. 

AN: This oneshot adapts the opening number ‘Belle’ and village scenes, up until Pinky sets off for the castle in search of his father, which leads into the entry Imprisoned. 

AO3 Link

Pinky scooped a ladleful of oatmeal into a small, earthen bowl, humming dreamily as he added a dash of cinnamon and several apple slices into the mixture. 

Today was a very special day for Papa, and Pinky wanted him to eat a healthy and nutritious meal before he went off to the fair with his invention. It would be a few days of travel, and Papa would need his strength for traveling there and back. 

“Papa, I’m going out!” Pinky called as he carefully pushed a large woven basket of acorns outside. “Your breakfast is on the table, so make sure you eat it all!” 

There was a sputter and cough of machinery and a trail of smoke from the small room that served as a makeshift workshop next to the kitchen, followed by a loud bang. 

“Just getting ‘er warmed up for the final test!” Papa shouted. “C’mon, Madeleine! You may’ve fallen apart for the 264th time, but you can do it!” 

Oh, Pinky had no doubt people were gonna love the woodcutting, ax-wielding, only occasionally threatening to take fingers off machine known as Madeleine. She was definitely gonna win that gorgeous blue ribbon at the fair! And even if she didn’t, they’d love her all the same anyway. 

He opened the door and stepped into the beautiful autumn morning, taking in the cool, fresh air as he carefully maneuvered the basket of acorns into a red wagon. The leaves were varying hues of crimson and gold, dancing along a gentle breeze that ruffled Pinky’s fur. The sun was peeking over the horizon, slowly bathing the world in light as it rose.

Two songbirds flew merrily above him, their sweet morning song filling the air with beautiful music. Pinky reached up, and one of the songbirds briefly landed on his outstretched hand before flying after his partner, leaving a red feather behind. 

“Thanks for the feather!” Pinky shouted to the sky as he tucked the feather behind his ear, where it fit perfectly. 

He picked up the wagon handle and pulled it along, the wheels squeaking along behind him.  

In the meadow beside their quaint little cottage, Pharfignewton chewed placidly on dew-covered grass. She neighed a greeting to Pinky, and Pinky cheerfully waved back. As much as he loved taking the beloved family horse into town for company, she needed her strength to lug Papa, Madeleine, and all their supplies later. So he had to let her rest. 

Reeds and wildflowers of all sorts grew along the banks of the pond that separated the little cottage from the rest of ACME Village. A pair of ducks paddled along in the water, trailed by four adorable, fluffy yellow ducklings. Several tiny turtles sunbathed on an old log, while a large green frog sat on its lily pad and caught insects unlucky enough to stray in the path of a long, sticky tongue. 

Pinky took his time crossing the cobblestone bridge over the pond, watching the wild animals go about their day without hustling, bustling, or rushing from place to place. Their lives were very different from their neighbors, despite living so close together. 

Little animals, little pond, and little humans in their little town. 

Or was everything just bigger than him? He was a mouse after all. It wasn’t hard to be bigger than a mouse, unless one happened to be an insect. 

As Pinky crossed onto the other side, he spotted a smooth, pretty gray stone poking out of the reeds. He plucked it out of the damp soil, cleaning the dirt off with the inside of his apron. 

It would be a perfect stone for his collection. And he didn’t have any that were this smooth. Most of the rocks he picked up were half-crushed or broken from city streets or well-worn paths. He tucked it into a pocket that he’d sewn on himself, because for some odd reason dresses never came with pockets. 

Then he faced the little town, with all its timber and stone buildings lining a narrow cobbled street that quickly filled with half-asleep, half-awake people trying to get an early start on their sales and trades. 

To think he and Papa had lived here for three years. While not the most exciting town in the world, Pinky was just happy they didn’t have to move again. He’d spent too much of his life being bustled from place to place since Mama died. The cottage was the loveliest place they’d ever owned. 

And while the townsfolk had the same ol’ familiar routine every day, Pinky tried to vary his activities. From baking to horseback riding to volunteering for odd jobs around town, or just taking a day off to nap under a tree and roll down the hilly meadows while grass stains formed on his back.  

Just a normal provincial life, yet Pinky often wondered what laid in the big blue yonder. Did the stars and sky look different elsewhere? Do the clouds form big, fluffy, and silly shapes in South America? 

“Bonjour!” a man called out as he threw open his shutters. 

“Good morning, Emile!” Pinky replied as he skipped past his window.  

“Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!” The echoing chant swept across rooftops and streets alike as a new day dawned upon ACME Village. 

Everyone from chimney sweepers to merchants to coachmen responded with vigor and cheer, all of them satisfied with their occupations in life. 

Pinky greeted everyone he passed, though not all returned the gesture. Everyone was staring at the feather tucked behind his ear, the bulge of the stone in his pocket, or the red wagon with the basket he pulled along. He didn’t think he was that strange-looking. 

Unless he had a bit of cabbage stuck in his teeth again. But he flossed really well last night, so he didn’t think that was the case. 

“Marie, hurry up with the baguettes!” the baker shouted as he carried several loaves of bread outside. 

Pinky inhaled deeply. There was nothing quite like the scent and sound of fresh bread. 

“Narrrrrrf! Smells just like heaven, Mr. Baker!” Pinky exclaimed.  

The baker set his tray of bread on a windowsill, tapping his foot as he impatiently waited for Marie. “Morning, Pinky. You off somewhere this morning?” he asked, though he didn’t turn around. 

“Yup! I’m delivering this basket of acorns to Slappy!” Pinky said, pointing to his basket of acorns. “She really likes the acorns near our cottage but doesn’t wanna make the trip herself. She says it’s too far for her aching joints and she can’t take Skippy along because she’s still trying to convince him that we’re not gonna be shot like Bumbie’s mom if we venture into the meadow, and-” 

“Yes, yes, that’s all very nice,” the baker said, half-leaning into the open window. “Marie, I said hurry up with the baguettes! The morning rush is coming soon!”  

“Well, if you’d bought the ingredients from Francois instead of Vincent like I suggested then maybe we wouldn’t be running behind, Pierre! But no, you always act like you know best!” Marie snapped. 

Not wanting to get embroiled in yet another argument between the baker and his wife, Pinky followed the cobblestone path further into town, where the usual market sprung up, full of local farmers, tradesmen, and merchants. 

Villagers bartered and argued and traded like always, and as Pinky stopped to admire a small yellow daisy poking out from the cracks of the street, he could feel eyes follow him closely in that looking-at-you-but-pretending-we’re-not sort of way. 

“There goes the funny mouse again.” 

“Gets distracted by the littlest things, I swear.” 

“Does he even have a useful skill?” 

“Besides being the village idiot? Doubtful.” 

They’d made those comments ever since he and Papa had moved in. Everywhere they went, people asked Pinky for his trade, and Pinky always told them he took care of Papa and worked various odd jobs around the area for money. 

But that wasn’t considered a useful role in society.

He didn’t mind helping Papa though. 

Oh well though. He couldn’t delay getting these acorns to Slappy, so he hauled his wagon alongside a horse-drawn carriage that steadily cut through the crowded streets, clearing Pinky’s path.  

“Bonjour!” the coachman called to a young woman walking down the street. His eyes were trained on the girl rather than the road, and his horse plowed straight into a farmer’s cart, knocking his produce into the road.  

“MY CABBAGES!” the farmer screamed, tearing out his hair as several pigs devoured his vegetables. 

The coachman let out a nervous laugh and flicked the reins, spurring his horse forward and blithely ignoring the despairing farmer’s demands for compensation. 

“I need six eggs!” a woman cried as she tried to hold several fussing babies at once. 

“That’s too expensive!” a man complained to someone selling pottery. “Twenty coins for a pile of cheap clay? Bah!” 

Pinky and the carriage parted ways as the cobblestone street changed to an unpaved dirt path. The gossip and chatter of ACME Village faded to background noise. 

Slappy had made her home in a hollow tree on the outskirts of town, close enough to get supplies but far enough to deter most from knocking on her door. 

Pinky passed by many warning and danger signs that kept most people from bothering the old squirrel. There was a new post up today, right next to Slappy’s front door. 

LAST WARNING 

NO SELLING, NO PREACHING, NO TAX COLLECTING 

KNOCK AT YOUR OWN RISK 

Well, what was life without a little risk? Pinky knocked on the door anyway. 

He was trying to decide if one of the clouds overhead was shaped more like a monkey or a strawberry when a small brown squirrel in a blue nightgown and cap opened the door. Despite the early morning, he was wide awake and hopping in place, his excitement only growing as he spotted the basket of acorns behind Pinky.  

“Morning, Skippy! Got the basket of acorns your aunt wanted!” Pinky exclaimed.

Skippy grinned as he took the basket from the wagon. “Thanks, Pinky! Aunt Slappy will love these!” 

He popped a few acorns into his mouth and loudly crunched the shells. 

“Skippy, what’d I say about answering the door at this godforsaken hour in the morning?” a cranky voice yelled from upstairs.

“It’s just Pinky with the acorns, Aunt Slappy! No door to door salespeople, preachers, or tax collectors in sight!” Skippy shouted. Then he turned back to Pinky and pointed to his ear. “I like your feather, by the way.” 

“Thanks! I like your nightcap!” Pinky said, returning the compliment with his own. 

A few moments later, Slappy joined Pinky and Skippy downstairs. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, her long gray tail dragging behind her. 

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Slappy asked. She tossed several acorns into her mouth and nodded her approval. “Crunchy with a pinch of salt. This is gonna be a good topping for my world-renowned creamed spinach later.” 

“SPEEWWWWWWWWW!” Skippy cried, sticking his tongue out in disgust. 

Pinky just smiled politely. Slappy took a lot of pride in her creamed spinach recipe, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings by saying it tasted like soggy socks. 

“Hey, when I was your age, I ate lots of creamed spinach for dinner. And now I have enough muscles to wield a hundred ton mallet,” Slappy retorted. 

“Wow! Was that when dinosaurs roamed the earth?” Skippy asked. 

Slappy gave him a light smack on the back of his head. “Little brat. Go grab a few coins from the bureau in my room. Gotta pay the mouse for lugging this stuff across town.” 

Skippy blew a raspberry at her and ran up the stairs. 

“Your tongue is never gonna go back in your mouth if you keep doing that!” Slappy yelled. 

Funny how the Squirrels were his best neighbors, even though they lived on the opposite side of town. They’d helped out so much when Pinky and Papa first moved into the countryside cottage, from showing them all the best places to buy from and all the best trees to climb. Everyone else usually stared at them strangely for not knowing how to find a shop and moved on with their day. 

Still, Pinky didn’t want to impose on them or anything. Collecting the acorns was no trouble at all. And he knew money could be a little tight in the village at times. 

“You don’t have to pay me,” Pinky said. “Poit. I don’t mind the morning exercise.” 

“You’re walkin’ outta here with those coins whether you like it or not,” Slappy said in a tone that invited no room for argument. “Don’t be one of ‘em honor before reason types. That sorta mindset is nothing but trouble.” 

Slappy’s long tail flicked in irritation, accidentally knocking a framed painting askew on the wall next to her. She sighed and fixed the crooked painting so that it hung straight. “Can never keep this darn thing straight,’ she muttered. 

Pinky had been inside the hollow tree many times, but he’d never seen this painting before. It contained a colorful cast of characters, from a carrot-munching gray rabbit to a crazy black duck to a short gunslinger with an enormous bright red mustache. 

In the painting, a youthful Slappy with a manic grin on her face and giant firecracker in her hand was chasing a bald hunter. Her smile was brighter, and her eyes didn’t seem so world-weary there.

“Like it? Old pals sent it to me two weeks ago,” Slappy asked, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “The Looney Tunes Troupe were a rascally bunch, that’s for sure. All the money for a detailed painting, and they can’t afford a better frame. Our shows were legendary back in the day, you know.” 

“Never heard of them,” Pinky admitted. 

“Course ya haven’t,” Slappy sighed. “Your generation doesn’t know good comedy when it hits them in the bum with a mallet. Troupe’s faded into obscurity now, but they’ve never stopped traveling and being annoying yet lovable nuisances to everyone from Albuquerque to Kalamazoo to Timbuktu.” 

Pinky tilted his head. “But you don’t travel anymore.” 

If the Squirrels needed something they couldn’t get in ACME Village, they usually asked Pinky to run the errand for them. 

“Yeah, well, that’s life,” Slappy said. “Sometimes you’re a nomad with total freedom and other times you gotta flee with your nephew to a different country.” 

Before Pinky could ask more questions, Skippy barreled downstairs with as many coins as he could carry. “I didn’t know how much to grab so I just took a handful,” Skippy said, dumping the currency onto a small side table. 

Slappy picked up six coins from the pile and dropped them into a small drawstring bag, then tightened the strings and tossed the bag into Pinky’s wagon. “You can have these. I’ve got plenty more lying around,” she said. 

“If you're sure then,” Pinky said, picking up his wagon handle and turning it around. “Love to stay, but Papa’s leaving for the fair soon and I gotta see him off!” 

“Tell him we said hi!” Skippy shouted, and Pinky saluted back. 

Slappy yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “And I’m hitting the hay again. It’s too damn early, and I’m too tired to censor my swearing in front of kids.” 

o-o-o-o-o  

After his visit to Slappy’s tree, Pinky decided to kill some time at ACME Village’s fountain, where he could enjoy the fine spray of water and run in circles along the stone rim. It was always fun seeing how fast he could go without tipping into the water.

“Sorry!” he shouted as he accidentally trod over freshly washed sheets that a woman had been folding next to the fountain. She made an indignant noise and carried her basket of laundry away, nose high in the air. 

And the whispers started up again. 

“That mouse may be a beauty, but he is way too peculiar for his own good.” 

“You have to wonder if he’s feeling well.” 

“Always a dreamy, far-off look on his face.” 

On his tenth lap around the fountain, a flock of sheep strolled by, guided by a young shepherd from behind. Two fluffy ewes jumped onto the fountain rim next to Pinky and drank the water. Pinky smiled and stroked their soft wool, and the ewes bleated in contentment.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Pinky whispered into their ears. “Don’t go blabbing this to anyone now...but I believe Papa’s a shoo-in for that blue ribbon!” 

One of the ewes turned and nibbled on his ear, and Pinky laughed as her blocky teeth tugged and tickled his fur. He gently pried her jaw open and his ear popped out of her mouth, dripping wet with sheep saliva.

As Pinky prepared to slide off the fountain rim and onto the small bag of money he’d gotten from Slappy, a regal fanfare went off in the distance, thundering hoofbeats growing ever closer. 

A messenger in a white powdered wig blew his coronet and cleared his throat. 

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE! MAKE WAY FOR HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, PRINCE SNOWBALL AND HIS HUNTING PARTY!” 

The messenger’s declaration sent every man, woman, and child running towards the plaza, gathering in front of the entrance of the local tavern, the centerpoint of all social activities in ACME Village. 

The hunting party rode in on their enormous horses, spearheaded by the ruler of the province, Prince Snowball. Though only a small hamster, he was famed by all for his keen mind and ability to get results on whatever he set out to accomplish. 

Though dressed in only a simple red shirt and breeches for hunting, the only signs of his higher status being the golden crown upon his head and the expensive black horse he rode, his presence commanded respect and awe. 

Behind him, a hunting party consisting of the best huntsmen and archers in the land dragged an enormous buck, two wild boars, and several pheasants into view. 

“People of ACME Village, tonight we shall dine on these fine specimens of the animal kingdom!” Snowball announced as everyone bowed in fear of a noble’s anger. “Everyone’s presence is required, for I have a further declaration that shall lift this derelict province out of the ashes and into a glorious future!” 

His pink eyes were sharp, but beneath that layer of intelligence, there was an undertone of something that didn’t feel right. Pinky couldn’t explain it, but he always just had this odd, icky feeling that crawled up his spine whenever he saw Snowball.

The crowd straightened up, cheering and clapping and praising Prince Snowball’s name for bringing them such good fortune with the promise of more to come. 

Pinky’s ear twitched. There was a soft, desperate sound mixed in with the roars of the captivated audience.

And to the left side of the crowd, there was a tiny lamb whose back leg was tangled in a large fishing net. The mother ewe was both nuzzling the lamb in comfort and trying to pull the net off with her teeth, but to no avail. 

The shepherd never noticed his sheep were in trouble, too caught up in hailing Prince Snowball to notice one of his charges was stuck. 

Pinky hopped off the fountain and slowly walked over to the thrashing lamb and his mother, putting his hands up to show them he wasn’t a threat. The lamb bleated in panic, and the mother eyed Pinky warily. 

“May I help? I’m good at untangling stuff,” Pinky asked. He’d gotten a lot of practice when Papa occasionally tangled himself up in threads and wires. 

The ewe regarded him for a long moment, then nuzzled the back of her lamb’s head, letting him bury his head into her wool. The lamb’s trembling stopped, his back leg still. 

It was a sweet gesture, one that seemed so familiar to him, even though his own mother had long passed. He remembered that feeling of warmth and safety from so long ago, the last time he felt like he was truly home. 

Wiping a stray tear from his eye, Pinky untangled the mesh from the lamb’s leg, starting from the top and slowly moving down to the hoof. 

“There you go, baby,” Pinky said once the leg was completely free. The lamb pulled his hoof out of the netting, gave it a good shake, then joyfully pranced and bleated around his mother and Pinky. 

The mother gave Pinky a tiny nod, bleated to her little one, and together they rejoined their flock. The shepherd was still ignoring his flock in favor of Prince Snowball. Pinky couldn’t see him anymore from the ground. 

Pinky picked up his wagon handle, ready to go home and help Papa hitch everything up to Pharfignewton.

Then he felt a pair of fingers pluck the feather he’d lovingly tucked behind his ear. Pinky turned to get his feather back, and jumped when Snowball was just inches from his face. 

“Hello, Pinky,” Snowball said. He smiled, but it was more out of smugness than a real smile. 

Pinky’s ears lowered, but then he remembered his manners. “Bonjour, Prince Snowball. May I have my feather please? A really nice bird gave that to me.” 

Snowball frowned, holding the feather out of Pinky’s reach. The feather crinkled in his tight grip. “How could you possibly need this? It’s hardly good quality for even the cheapest quills.” 

“Poit. It doesn’t need to be a quill to make me happy,” Pinky replied. 

Snowball rolled his eyes, tossing the feather behind him. Pinky tried to grab it, but it was caught on a gust of wind and drifted to the ground. It landed in a mud puddle, soaking the barbs of the feather and staining it brown. 

“Pinky, get your head out of the clouds and pay attention to important matters,” Snowball’s lip curled as he blocked Pinky from retrieving his feather. “Such as showing royals courtesy when they address a peasant like you.”  

“Excuse me, Snowball,” Pinky said politely, going around the hamster to pick up his feather. The damage didn’t look too bad. Still, he tried to be careful when he cleaned it with his apron. 

Snowball crossed his arms, and the town’s whispers started up again. 

How dare he not show proper respect to Snowball, does he fancy himself higher than a prince, why would Snowball pay him any individual attention and not someone more deserving. 

“That’s Prince Snowball to you.” Snowball’s fur bristled for a moment, but he took a deep breath and put his arms around Pinky’s shoulders instead. “The whole town's talking about you and your lack of...purpose. And we can’t have that, you realize. After all, a machine requires all of its cogs and gears to run smoothly, otherwise it won’t work.” 

“Bet his crackpot father would know something about that!” one of Snowball’s men chortled. 

Everyone laughed, even Snowball, who rarely did so. An unfamiliar feeling boiled in Pinky’s stomach. 

“Don’t talk about my father that way!” Pinky snapped. His inventions were amazing and he was going to do well at the fair! They didn’t know how hard Papa worked on his inventions! 

Snowball glared at his men. “Yes, don’t talk about his father that way, you fools!” he hissed like Pinky hadn’t heard him laughing just seconds ago. 

“He’s not a crackpot! His invention’s gonna win the blue ribbon cause it was made with smarts and love, you’ll see!” Pinky declared, just as an explosion went off in the distance. 

And he knew exactly where that explosion had come from. 

“I have to go. Goodbye!” Pinky dragged his wagon behind him, setting off for the cottage he and Papa called home. 

“It’s a pity and a sin, 

He doesn’t quite fit in. 

He really is a funny mouse, 

A beauty but a funny mouse, 

He really is a funny mouse, 

THAT PIN-” 

The sharp, high-pitched crack of a rifle interrupted the village’s song, and everyone ran for cover. 

“WILL YA SHUT UP? SOME OF US ARE TRYIN’ TA SLEEP!” Slappy shouted from her tree, her screech blowing tiles and lumber from the roofs of buildings. 

Just a provincial life in this little town. Pinky ran across the cobblestone bridge, wondering if he truly had the right to ask for something more than that.

o-o-o-o-o

He hurried over to the cellar, where smoke trailed from the gaps of the heavy wooden doors. Pinky opened the entrance, and a smoky cloud blew right in his face. He coughed and waved it away, hiding his nose in his dress as he hurried over to Papa, who’d been thrown onto his back. A pile of broken wooden planks covered him. 

In the corner, Madeleine sputtered, her gears and dials spinning wildly before she finally quieted down, one loose spring sending a gear crashing into a wall. 

“Dagnabbit, Madeleine!” Papa cursed, stumbling as he extracted himself from the pile of wooden planks. Pinky grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet, checking him over for any injuries. Luckily, there were no bruises or splinters to be found. “Don’t you stall out on me now!” 

Pinky smiled. Papa’s string of random gibberish and mutterings of smart inventor words he couldn’t understand was something he’d been familiar with from a young age. No matter where they lived, it was just one of those things that came with home. 

Papa huffed, untying his apron with all his tools and tossing it to the ground. “She’ll never work in time for the fair! What was I thinking?” he lamented. “It’s not too late. Maybe I can cobble something else together quickly! Yes, I’ll just take the doowhatzit out of Madeleine, combine it with the kaleidomajiggy from the old washer, and-” 

“You always say that, Papa,” Pinky said, hugging his father around the shoulders. Papa rested his hands over Pinky’s with a sigh. “Don’t worry. I believe Madeleine will work, and she’ll win you that blue ribbon and help you become an inventor for the history books! Narf! Just like Benjamin Franklin, ‘cept without all the kite-flying.” 

“You really think so?” Papa asked, his frown turning to a hopeful smile. 

“Course I do,” Pinky grinned. 

A determined look crossed Papa’s face, and he tied his apron around his waist, nearly tripping over it in the process.

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s fix ‘er up!” Papa said, laying down on a flat, low cart and pushing himself under the broken stove that made up Madeleine’s main body. “So how was your morning in town?” 

“A little birdie gave me a feather. I found a pretty stone by the pond. And I delivered the acorns to the Squirrels. Did you know Slappy used to be a part of a traveling troupe? I didn’t.” Pinky recanted his morning to Papa as tools clinked and scratched against metal. “Oh, and I guess you’ll be missing Prince Snowball’s feast tonight. They’ll have venison and wild boar there.” 

“A feast? That sounds nice. Much better than inn food,” Papa mused. As usual, only part of what Pinky said ever registered with him. “Are you going?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Pinky admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a good party...but Prince Snowball is-um, what’s a good word for him?” 

“Rich? Smart? Confident?” Papa suggested. “He’s been talkin’ to you a lot lately.” 

So everyone’s noticed, even Papa who spent much of his time in the cellar that doubled as a workshop. 

“He has,” Pinky agreed. “And he says he can give me a purpose. But...I don’t know. I don’t think he’s right for me. Maybe I’m just as odd as they say I am.” 

It was the same everywhere they settled. No matter what Pinky tried to do, the whispers always followed him. He noticed strange things, he wore strange clothes, he and Papa were always strangers in towns where everyone knew each other from birth. 

Papa slid out from under Madeleine, wearing a silly helmet on his head that gave him huge, bug-like eyes. 

“My son is odd?” Papa asked in disbelief, and Pinky laughed. The helmet always made Papa look silly. “Don’t know where these folks get their ideas from…anyway, I think Madeleine’s all ready to go. Care to give her a whirl?”

“Zort! Am I!” Pinky clapped his hands together. Papa pointed to a lever, which Pinky pulled with all his might. 

Madeleine’s bells and whistles sounded, water steadily pumping through her system while steam filled her stove. Pulleys and gears turned along her sides, reaching the front. Her dials quivered until they reached the red zone, and the ax at her front swung down, scoring a deep cut in a block of firewood. The ax swung faster and faster, until one final split the firewood in half and sent one chunk flying. 

Pinky and Papa ducked, and the chunk flew over their heads and landed perfectly on a pile of firewood against the wall. 

“She works!” Pinky shouted in joy, kissing one of Madeleine’s wooden wheels. “You did it, Papa!” 

“I did?” Papa murmured. “I did! 265th time’s the charm, Pinky! Look out fair, I’m on my way!” 

o-o-o-o-o

Within the hour, Madeleine was wheeled out from the workshop, covered and tied up with a tarp, and hitched to Pharfignewton. 

“Bye, Fig,” Pinky said, hugging his beloved horse’s muzzle. “Keep Papa on track to the fair, okay? You know how he likes taking shortcuts.” 

Pharfignewton whinnied gently, planting a sloppy kiss on top of Pinky’s head.

Then Pinky embraced Papa, who returned the hug with the same enthusiasm. And he was reminded of how the mouse and horse he considered his home would be leaving for some time. He wished he could go with them, but someone had to keep house and he was the best one for the job. It wouldn’t be for long, but he’d miss them all the same. 

A stray tear dropped. Just another reason he was considered odd. He cried so easily. 

“Chin up, Pinky,” Papa murmured, rubbing a soothing circle into Pinky’s back. “I’ll win that blue ribbon along with the prize money, and we’ll begin our lives anew within the week.”  

Through his tears, Pinky gave him a wobbly smile. Then he helped Papa onto Pharfignewton’s back. 

“Take care!” Pinky called as Papa flicked the reins, and Pharfignewton trotted off at a steady pace, dragging Madeleine behind her. He watched them from atop the highest hill in the meadow, as they went further down the well-worn trail that merchants used for their travels. 

Then they were nothing but specks in the distance, swallowed by the thick, twisted branches of the forest. It was an unusual forest, one where the trees lost their leaves in early autumn, making the trees look scarier than they actually were for half the year. 

With nothing else to do outside, Pinky went back into the empty cottage. He’d had three years to become familiar with this house, full of odds and ends from Papa’s inventions alongside their meager belongings. 

Mama’s cloak hung from a place of honor on a coat rack by the door, one of the few belongings Pinky could take along no matter where they lived. 

Hours passed, and Pinky already missed the banging and exploding and sputtering of Papa’s inventions. It was just too quiet without them. 

He cleaned the red feather and pretty stone, then added them to his collection. Feathers and rocks didn’t take up a lot of room, and like Mama’s cloak, they could easily be taken to new places as well. He was just very careful not to lose them. 

The wagon was tucked away by the door, and the small bag of money was tucked inside a flower pot. It was how Papa always stored money, and Pinky had picked up the habit. 

There wasn’t much to do. He’d cleaned the cottage several days ago, cellar notwithstanding. That was Papa’s territory, and he always had trouble finding tools when Pinky put them away.

Suppertime approached. 

He could either cook dinner or go to the feast. 

Didn’t matter what he chose. He would be lonely either way. 

A sharp rap on the door startled him out of his thoughts. How strange. People only knocked at this time when there was an emergency. 

“Sorry for taking so long. I wasn’t expecting-” Pinky opened the door, and he immediately stood face-to-face with Prince Snowball. They were so close that their noses nearly touched. “-to see you here, Snowball. Um, this is a surprise. Poit.” 

Snowball’s pink eyes narrowed in annoyance, and Pinky remembered that Snowball preferred to be addressed with his full title. “Yes, it’s not often that someone of my standing chooses to grace a peasant’s home with their presence.”   

Behind Snowball, there was an entourage of townsfolk. Many wore their Sunday best, which was still quite cheap compared to the royal finery that Snowball bore. A fine red coat, a decorative golden cape slung over one shoulder, and white dress pants. A shiny crown embedded with rubies and emeralds sat atop his head. 

“I thought you were all at the tavern for the feast,” Pinky admitted. 

Snowball laughed, but it was a joyless laugh. He stepped across the threshold without being invited in. 

“Why, Pinky. Your hovel is positively primeval,” Snowball said, wrinkling his nose in disdain. He tugged Mama’s cloak off its hook, stared at it for a moment, then carelessly tossed it behind him. “If this is how you live, then it’s a truly auspicious time for me to come and offer you an opportunity out of this squalor.” 

Before Pinky could ask what auspicious was, though he figured it had something to do with Austria, Snowball harshly dug his fingers into Pinky’s shoulders. Pinky tried to pry them off, but the fingers just burrowed further into the fabric of his dress. 

“Not to worry, dear Pinky,” Snowball said. “Today is the day all your dreams come true.” 

“You mean my dream to find a home and a porpoise? Because I don’t know if we have enough money to live by the ocean. Beachside properties get very pricey, you know,” Pinky asked. 

Snowball waved off that concern. “You forget that finances are of no consequence for me. But I digress. For now, allow me to plant the image of a wonderful future in your vacant mind.” 

“Okay, but I don’t know how you’re gonna water it,” Pinky said. 

“Picture this,” Snowball demanded, leading Pinky around the cottage. “A magnificent castle. Two golden thrones, mine higher than the queen’s of course. A few summer homes to expand my sphere of influence. A court of other royals, lesser nobles, while the servants do all the menial work around the fires and kitchen. We’ll have...oh, six or seven.”     

“Servants?” Pinky grinned nervously as Snowball leaned in with a chuckle. 

“Castles, Pinky. How else would I showcase my power?” Snowball corrected. “And the townsfolk shall become our servants. It will save me the trouble of setting up a hiring process anyway. Besides, you’d appreciate having familiar faces around. Less of an adjustment period.” 

Pinky freed himself from Snowball’s grip. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Snowball shrugged. “But in simplest terms, I require a queen. One who is good at smiling, waving, and entertainment.” 

Wouldn’t that person become a princess rather than a queen though? 

Snowball must’ve seen the question coming. He paused in front of the mirror to adjust his crown. 

“There is but one title higher than a prince, Pinky,” Snowball said once he was finished. “In order to qualify for the kingship, it’s required of me to marry first. And do you know who that queen will be?” 

“Elizabeth? Victoria?” Pinky wilted under Snowball’s intense stare. “Um...Cleopatra, final answer?” 

Snowball shook his head. “It will be you, Pinky.” 

A queen? He’d always just been the inventor’s son. An outcast no matter where he lived. How could he possibly be a queen? 

“That’s a very generous offer, Snowball,” Pinky said, once he finally found his words again. 

“Isn’t it, though?” Snowball said smugly. “You and your father will live in an extravagant new home as you perform your queenly duties, and I will be forever hailed as King Snowball. Both of us shall benefit.”

Maybe he and Papa could live in better conditions. Maybe they didn’t have to move around anymore. Maybe they could afford shoes for Pharfignewton. But at the same time…it wouldn’t be right. 

It wouldn’t be home. 

Smiling, waving, entertaining. Was that all he was good for? Was that all Snowball thought he could do? 

“I thought...marriage was for love,” Pinky said softly. “That’s what Papa always said.” 

Snowball rolled his eyes. “It’s a political marriage. It doesn’t have to be built on love.” 

Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.

It was one of the earliest morals Pinky had learned. 

Wish for a home, only for it to be a castle. Wish for a purpose, and it’s to be married without love as a foundation. 

“Snowball...I’m speechless,” Pinky said, backing out the front door. He nearly tripped over the welcome mat, but regained his footing. “I...I really don’t know what to say.” 

Not even a narf would help him out of this situation. 

“Say that you’ll marry me, Pinky,” Snowball replied, and he stalked toward Pinky like a cunning predator, backing him against the edge of the porch. “And after you say yes, I will announce our engagement to the rest of ACME Village at the feast. Attendance is mandatory for a reason.” 

“I’m really, really sorry, Snowball,” Pinky said. He’d backed up too far, and the heels of his feet dangled precariously over the edge. Instincts kicking in, Pinky grabbed Snowball’s shoulder to pull himself to safety, though he underestimated his strength. Snowball yelped as he was pulled over the edge, falling into the mud puddle by the staircase. 

Oops.  

“Sorry, Snowball! But I just don’t deserve you,” Pinky admitted. 

The mud-covered crown slipped around Snowball’s head, covering his eyes until he took it off with an annoyed grunt. 

Pinky slipped back into the house, grabbed a small towel, and handed it to one of Snowball’s men. 

Claude, if he remembered right. 

“He can have that one,” Pinky told Claude, who gingerly took the towel like it was a fragile item. 

Snowball crawled out of the mud, his royal clothing covered in gunk and sticks. He stomped out of the mud, hands clenching against his sides. 

Snowball’s brow lowered, his pink eyes hidden in humiliation and a quiet, seething fury. 

Slowly, Pinky retreated into the cottage and hid behind the door. There was something about that look that terrified him. And it wasn’t the fun kind of fear, either. 

“You will consider my offer, Pinky. Make no mistake about that,” Snowball spat, his scrutinizing gaze directly on Pinky, despite the door between them. “Claude, quit being daft and hand me that towel already!” 

Pinky waited in the cottage until he could no longer hear their voices or footsteps. They must’ve gone back to the tavern for the feast. 

He didn’t feel hungry though. Snowball’s proposal left a sour taste in his mouth, like he’d just sucked on a lemon.

“He asked me to marry him,” Pinky said to his mother’s cloak, which was still crumpled on the floor. He gently picked it up, brushed off the wrinkles, and put it on. The fabric was warm against his back, like being wrapped in a ginormous embrace. “But he doesn’t love me. Narf! You can’t have a marriage without love!” 

He thought of all the married couples he knew in ACME Village. The baker couple, who were constantly at each other’s throats. Gerard the butcher was always making googly eyes at any woman who bought cuts of meat, much to his wife’s frustration. There was the stressed lady who had to drag her six kids around town while her husband played cards and darts at the tavern.

And Pinky thought of his parents. His mother had fallen in love with his father’s inventive streak when she was the daughter of a town official and Papa was just the crazy mouse whose inventions blew up a lot. 

He tied the cloak tighter around himself. Unable to take the silence of the cottage and the stifling influence of the village much longer, he allowed his feet to carry him out of the cottage and to wherever they wanted to go. 

He sprinted into the unknown. He wouldn’t be afraid of whatever he found there. The autumn wind blew golden, red, and brown leaves in whichever direction it wished as Pinky climbed the highest hill in the gorgeous flower-filled meadow. 

The peak of the hill was his favorite spot, and he was surprised that nobody else came out here to enjoy the view with him. Trees lost their colorful leaves so they could sleep for the winter, the river splashed and babbled along its banks, and proud mountains with mysterious cloud-covered peaks rose high above the landscape.

What laid beyond villages and towns, he didn’t know. 

There was something in that great wide somewhere for him. Just a feeling, an inkling, a hunch. 

But could he truly go exploring it when his home was here? 

Maybe he could convince Papa. Somehow. When Papa came back with the prize money, they could fit Pharfignewton with her shoes and they could all explore together! 

Staring into the autumn landscape, Pinky sank to his knees, careful not to squish the daisies and dandelions around him. 

Maybe that was home, but…

He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. Would he ever figure that out? 

He loved Papa, but he couldn’t really talk to him. And Slappy had her hands full with such an energetic nephew. Pinky didn’t want to impose. Everyone in the village gossiped about him, like he couldn’t understand. 

But he did. 

And it hurt. 

“Would be nice to talk to someone. Anyone, really,” he whispered, and he blew on a cluster of dandelion puffs. His wish scattered along the wind.

Pinky picked up more dandelion puffs. If he blew more around, maybe his wish would come true. And dandelion flowers were very pretty. 

Maybe they were considered weeds, but how could anyone call such a sunshine-y yellow flower a pest? He didn’t get it.

Then a distant, familiar neigh caught him off-guard. 

Pinky thumped his hand against his ear. Maybe he was missing Pharfignewton so much that he heard her voice? 

But he’d recognize her magnificent white coat and spirited blue eyes anywhere. 

“Easy, Pharfignewton! It’s okay!” Pinky cried. He scrambled up Pharfignewton’s leg, avoided her flailing hoof, and held onto her muzzle as she bucked and reared in sheer panic. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay…” 

Pharfignewton quieted down, her frantic neighs melting into soft, worried nickers as Pinky stroked her nose. She stopped kicking, though she was wide-eyed with fear. 

Madeleine wasn’t hitched to Pharfignewton. Nor was she wasn’t the only one missing…

And Pinky suddenly understood his horse’s panic. 

“Pharfignewton, where’s Papa?” Pinky asked. “Is he okay? How did you get separated? Did he try another shortcut when I told him not to do it?”  

Pharfignewton’s hooves shuffled, and Pinky forced himself to take a deep breath. He was scaring her with all these questions, so he nuzzled her between the eyes in apology. Still, his heart raced with panic. 

From the top of the hill, he saw thick, gray clouds rolling in from the mountains. The temperature was dropping fast. 

An early winter would be upon them. They had to find Papa quickly. 

“Please, Pharfignewton. We’ve gotta find him,” Pinky pleaded. 

She whinnied in agreement, and galloped into the strange forest with all its dangerous, twisted branches before Pinky had a chance to settle in his usual spot at the base of her neck. 

Don’t worry, Papa. I’m on my way. 

End AN: Well, this is beast is complete (no pun intended). 

Yeah, poor Pinky’s usual charm doesn’t really work here. Poor mouse. 

Slappy is fun to write, not gonna lie. Love her cartoony antics. She’s also led quite the interesting life in this AU. 

The reason Snowball didn’t show up sooner was because I wasn’t sure how to tweak the proposal scene to fit. Cause for one thing, Snowball is way smarter than Gaston, but just as arrogant to boot. So I changed Snowball’s motivation into marrying Pinky because it will help him gain a higher title than a prince. He doesn’t actually love Pinky in this AU, but he’s very annoyed at him for that stunt with the mud puddle (though it’s accidental on Pinky’s part rather than intentional like Belle’s). 

The reason Snowball doesn’t go seeking a princess’s hand to gain the kingship is cause he tried that already. It was Billie of a nearby kingdom. It didn’t go well. 

Also yes the village is named ACME Village because I’m lazy and can’t come up with anything better. 

[lostinfantasyworlds]

WIP Wednesday: Under the Northern Lights (coming soon!)

Summary (Modern AU): Kagome Higurashi has her dream job, working as a nature/wildlife photographer for the internationally well-known Yugen magazine. Her job whisks her all around the world, leaving her lonely sometimes but mostly just incredibly grateful to get paid to do what she loves. When she gets sent to northern Alaska for a month to photograph a series of celestial events, she runs into Inuyasha, a half-demon who lives on his own in the middle of nowhere. A mutual attraction draws them to each other, but Kagome's time there is limited. Will he ease her loneliness or only make it worse?

__________

I'm so excited about this story!! I've always loved night sky photography since I got my first DSLR, although I'm nowhere near good enough to photograph for a magazine - I can only dream 😂. Plus Yugen magazine is a concept I thought of in college for my Editorial Design class. So yes, this story is a little bit of a self insert on my part😆. But besides that, you can expect plenty of fluff and romance, as well as a nice dose of angst (don't worry - I believe in happy endings)!

I have no idea when I'll actually be ready to start posting this, but hopefully sometime in the next couple weeks.

Somehow there already existed the most perfect song to go along with this story. I still can't get over it. If you want to get the vibe, listen to Aurora Borealis by Bohnes (I'm so in love with it!). I'll be posting a full playlist (possibly one for each chapter because I'm extra AF) with the story 🥰

__________

Just a little disclaimer - I had not read any of Chasing the Vortex at the time when I wrote the outline for this story. I finally read it yesterday and realized how many accidental similarities there are in this story, so I apologize in advance @neutronstarchild and @fawn-eyed-girl ! I honestly didn't even know that Kagome was a photographer for a magazine in your story when I wrote this😆. I never want anyone to think I'm copying their ideas, so I just wanted to throw that out there that I’m sorry! I swear the stories are still very different despite certain similarities 🥰

Btw, if you're reading this and haven't read Chasing the Vortex yet, you definitely should! I'm loving it so far, it's SO good!! ❤️

_________

Tagging (let me know if you want on or off!): @alyyyyyssssaaa​​ @bluehawaiicat​​​ @born-for-eachother​​​ @deactivated2431545484​​ @goshinote​​​​ @gruviyasharuto​​​​ @julyzaa​​​​ @ladyaerilla​​​​ @littleredwritinghat​​​ @liz8080​​​ @malditamigs​​
​​ @neutronstarchild​​​​ @redflamesofpassion​​​​ @rocioanime4​​​​ @sailorlolo​​​​ @sangoslays​​​​ @sunsetskys​​​​ @superpixie42​​​​ @zukkosbaby​​

Preview under the cut! (Fluff with just a hint of angst)

The view was absolutely stunning, the sky covered in puffy clouds glowing with saturated reds, pinks, and yellows. The snowy landscape contrasted against the colorful sky, the jagged mountains providing a bold silhouette against the glowing crimson sun.

Even Inuyasha could admit that it was a particularly beautiful sunset. Unfortunately, he was having trouble paying any attention to it at all.

He found Kagome to be much more captivating.

He watched her silently as she worked, jogging around the area with her camera in hand, switching lenses and angles to capture different views. He was mesmerized by her, the way her passion for her craft oozed out of her as she clicked away, her eyes bright and a small smile on her face.

When the sun finally disappeared just below the horizon, she released her camera to hang from her neck and took a seat on the ground with her feet dangling over the edge of the rock face. Inuyasha sat down next to her.

“So, this was a good pick?” he asked.

“Mmhm! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen one quite as beautiful, and I’ve photographed a lot of sunsets. I’m so happy I got to capture that,” she responded, still a bit breathless. She turned to look at him with a beaming smile on her face, her blue eyes still sparkling with passion and excitement. The remaining light from the sunset cast a warm luster across her face, her cheeks and nose especially rosy from the biting chill in the air.

Inuyasha could have sworn his heart stopped for a moment. He had never seen someone glow like that before.

Damn it, why did she have to be so beautiful?

He tried to fight against the warm tingling bubbling up under his skin. He didn’t want to feel this way about her, knowing it was going to be pointless in the end.

But he also knew he was fighting a losing battle, the fuzzy feeling overpowering his better judgement.

Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Can I kiss you?”

He immediately felt embarrassment wash over him, his cheeks darkening with a deep blush.

Why did I have to go and ask that? Idiot!

Kagome’s smile fell only slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“We’ve done a lot more than just kiss, Inuyasha.”

She smirked at him, as if reminding him of the obvious. He huffed slightly in annoyance.

How does she not get it?

Now he was not only embarrassed, he was also apparently going to have to spell it out for her.

“I know that, dummy.”

He rolled his eyes for emphasis, then hesitated a moment before continuing.

“I just meant — cause we’re out in public like this and all. We’re not in bed so I thought it might mean something different...”

He trailed off as he saw the realization finally dawn on her face. Her smile disappeared completely, her mouth falling open in a silent oh. Her eyes unfocused, staring past him as she processed what he meant.

Inuyasha turned away from her, unable to look at her anymore. He felt his ears flatten against his head as he began backtracking.

“Forget it. It was a stupid thing to say, I don’t know what I was thinking,” he mumbled.

Kagome tried to work through her thoughts as quickly as possible, not wanting to leave him hanging. She hadn’t even thought anything of his question at first, being more surprised than anything else that he had asked it seemingly out of the blue.

But he was right. If he kissed her right now, it would mean something different than the kisses they had shared so far. They had both agreed to “have some fun” with each other while she was in Alaska, with the mutual understanding that she was going to leave in a couple weeks and never see him again. It was a subtle difference, but kissing outside of sex felt like another dynamic entirely.

She knew she should say no. That they would be crossing an unspoken line, one that would surely hurt them more in the end.

But he had asked to kiss her, showing that he respected her choices and boundaries instead of just assuming he had an unlimited pass to her body now that they had slept together.

And the way he blushed when he asked made her feel warm all over.

And she really wanted to kiss him too.

Making up her mind, she rested a hand on his face to turn him back towards her, noticing his lips part in surprise. She kissed him softly, letting it linger a moment before pulling back and removing her hand. They smiled at each other, and she decided to take it one step further by holding out her hand, palm up, in between them. Inuyasha took the invitation, lacing his fingers through hers. Kagome sighed happily before resting her head on his shoulder and watching the last of the sun’s light slowly disappear.

They both felt the shift, like the joining of their hands went beyond the simple physical touch. It felt like they had leapt off a cliff together, her inevitable departure waiting for them at the bottom like jagged rocks with the power to break them. She knew it was probably one of the stupidest decisions she had ever made, and yet the butterflies in her stomach and her racing pulse told another story. She felt happy, and light. Better than she had felt in a long time, possibly even in her life.

Once the sky had darkened and stars began to twinkle above, Inuyasha turned to look at her again, his expression serious. His golden eyes searched her sapphire depths, not sure exactly what he was looking for. They looked at each other for another stretch of time, maybe a second, maybe an hour, before he leaned in and brought his lips to hers again.

[millennial-star-gazer]

Tantric Flames: Chapter: 9

Tantric Flames

Nalu lovefest 2019 Prompts: Magic, Worship, Reckless , Forbidden and Cravings (All Implied)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing:Nalu (Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary: One look, one smouldering hooded gaze, one word, one fiery kiss, one magnetizing touch was all he needed for her to completely unravel at his mercy alone, succumbing to the sinful temptation of her inhibitions, his love, his feral passion, his raw, insatiable desires, his "Tantric Flames". Originally an Submission for Nalulovefest 2017 (on previous accounts) in which Natsu gives his mate a tantric massage-after much persuasion- she won't soon forget when it turns into so much more. Also previously featured in Nalu lovefest 2018 (on current accounts) , as well as Nalu Week 2017, Nalu Fluff Week and Nalu lovefest 2017 (as stated) with first three chapters on my previous celestialgeekmage accounts . Chapter 7 was also an entry for nalu week 2019 and Chapter 8 for Nalu Lovefest 2019. ( Nalu-centric) (Slight Au).

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Chapter 9: Tempted by A Tantric Touch

A/N: Hey guys, it's your girl Millennial StarGazer! This time I'm returning with another long-awaited installment of Tantric Flames. Once again, a major thanks to and koodos to @bmarvels, @mannyegb, @animezing-fandoms/princess-starry-night, and @allie-and-her-fandoms for helping me edit and further develop this chapter! Now without further ado, here's the story-enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

(Note: Scroll down pas the keep reading button/ cut for the designated links, legend and actual chapter.  The tagging feature and keep reading button might not show up or fully work on the desktop site but should function just fine on the app and mobile version.

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Legend:

Italic: Song Lyrics/Quotes (or flashback dialogue)

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: Empathized Word(s)

Bolded Italics (Within and Outside Bracket) including for author's side notes also known as (A/N:) within brackets (though none for side-notes in this chapter ).

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"You run your fingers over every part of my body and tease me with your touch".

(Source Unknown)

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Oh God, those love bites. So many love bites that decorated the blonde's creamy skin like jewels; far too numerous to count that always sent a red-hot line fire rippling through her nerves with with every nip, every suck; each every and stroke of Natsu's velvet tongue. Plus, he's usually doing other things at the same time. Racy images of the couple's steamy moments together from the last soak flooded Lucy's mind.

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Flashback

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The celestial mage's back arching of its own accord into Natsu's touch from robust hands cupping her breast; Blazing digits kneading the twin peaks in time with lips sucking along Lucy's pulse with so much skill that she couldn't help the heady moan that escaped her throat.

"Ya feel that, Luce?" Nastu growled in his princess's ear, the dark undercurrent of his territorial voice pulling a tingly shiver from her. "My marks all over that perfect body of yours— and not just the permanent one when you swore your heart to me . All of those are symbols of my essence, my claim, my love. That you belong to me and me alone. My mate and queen, forever and always. And those sounds you're makin'? Hot as hell."

Pretty sure, dude leaves marks on me as his way of announcing to the world I'm off limits as his mate. Explains why he's always quick to leave a fresh one in its place even after I cover them— not that I'm complaining. Plus, it's not only for his benefit but mine. It's great that he knows how much I love receiving hickeys and gets off from it.

Seriously, what more could I ask for?

Not to mention how lovely it always was to unwind with Natsu after each bath. The wizard was often keen in his offer to dry the blonde's damp hair with a towel or fire-magic-powered steam; from her perch on his lap or between his legs. 

Much more relaxing than using a hair dryer if you ask me.

 The dragonslayer would sometimes even hum or sing a familiar tune from days past in that appealing, gravelly baritone of his; would usually lull the already-zen mage into the world of dreams when combined with the sooth dual sensation of fingers combing through her hair, .

"I tell you, I tell you, the dragonborn comes ..."

Anyother guild member who might be eavesdropping, however, would often be quick to lightheartedly goad the blonde mage ( much to her chargin). Natsu no doubt would find this hilarious of course; which would serve for Lucy's cheeks to flush an even deeper shade of crimson than she already was.

"Say Luce, is that a blush I see?" he once crooned, a teasing edge to his words; though the affectionate mirth sparkling in his eyes warmed her heart just a little. "Aw, is my girl a little embarrassed? That's okay though— makes ya all the more adorable and endearing than you already are. You want me to make it all better? Cuz I can! Got plenty of kisses! Come on, you know you want some which I'm more than happy to give. God I love ya' so much, you know that?"

It's amazing really... Lucy ruminated in fond awe. How Natsu can switch between the different roles and sides to him with relative ease. From Romantic and tender to dominant, playful and affectionate; then back again on top of everything else all seemingly at the drop of a hat. All an innate part of his overall nature I guess— essentially what makes up who he is. Some people may find this a bit confusing to keep up with— but I don't. Just makes him all the more complex.

Though those people would also be right when they say that the dude still has a devious streak, she couldn't help but add with wry smirk. Even with me, though never with malicious intent. German suplex, non-stop tickling, dumping me in a tub of freezing cold water during one of our baths— too many pranks to count really. At least he's always quick to follow up with plenty of affection ever since we became an item— can't complain about that."

"You ready to get started Lucy?" Natsu's keen voice broke through Lucy's reverie.

"You know it!" The celestial mage chirped, unable to mask the pure enthusiasm in her voice; earning an amused chuckle from the dragon wizard . "Can't wait. I take it you'll be hoarding me for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Mhmm" Came his content hum in response." That really a bad thing, though?"

"No, definitely not."

"I figured. Why don't we get you up on that massage bed?"

"Sure thing!"

A buzz of anticipation was practically thrumming in Lucy's blood from such tantalizing implications of his words; the stunt Natsu pulled next , though— that was what really shot a thrilling jolt up her spine.

"Let's finish what we started later, yeah?"

The dragonslayer's proposal was punctuated by a light tap on the summoner's ass for good measure,; which resulted in a delighted squeal.

"O-okay!" was said female's response in the form of a breathy giggle.

"Let me get you that towel while I'm at it."

"Sure— thanks."

"My pleasure."

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A Few Minutes Later

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"Ugh...do me a huge favor and burn this towel. Will ya?"

Lucy couldn't help but let out an audible groan along with the heat rising in her cheeks. Good god was the particularly moist spot on the white towel a truly mortifying sight to behold. Basically tell-tale remnants of liquid arousal that had been wiped clean from her legs just moments before.

Mavis only knows what would happen if Levy or Cana noticed during laundry duty.

" Okay... why though?" Natsu questioned, brows drawing together in mild confusion. "As in why do you want me to?"

"Guild Laundry day" came Lucy's automatic reply."That's why."

"Not following ya.' Natsu blinked owlishly in uncomprehension.

"Levy…..and Cana….." Lucy supplied, a finger twirling an errant strand of blonde hair in :a self-conscious display." "I... uh.."

"Still don't know what you mean here, Luce."

"It's their turn to do laundry duty." She attempted to break down what was apparently such an abstract concept into simpler terms; not able to help the aggravation rising in the back of her mind.

"Yeah? So?"

"They'll probably see the moist stain on the towel." Lucy clarified, forcing her voice to remain level.

"I see— don't see the problem though."

"Think about who'll most likely be with them ."

"Gajeel and Laxus but…...ahh—"

Realization dawned on Natsu's face. "I get it now. What you're saying is that they'll probably catch a whiff of your arousal? "

"Well, the lingering remnants of the scent anyway. Seriously though?" he tacked on, lifting a questioning brow."That's what you're worried about?"

"Yeah... I am," Lucy admitted, nerves leaking into her voice. "Aren't you?"

"Not really, no." Natsu gave a shrug of his shoulders—seemingly unfazed.

"Why's that?" Lucy couldn't help but shoot him a puzzled glance. 

"Cuz it'll show everyone how much I rocked your world." Natsu replied, flashing his mate a cheeky grin. " And what's not to love about that?"

"Pervert — of course you'd say that!" Lucy screeched, skin flushing a deep shade of crimson.

"That's me!"

"Ugh, still don't know what to do about the moist spot— those four are never gonna let me live it down."

"You know if you're that worried, I could always use my tongue to clean ya up instead." Natsu drawled with a lazy smirk that set her heart all pit-patter .

"And of course, you'd suggest that," Lucy quipped with a slight roll of her eyes. "Did I mention how much of a horn dragon you are? "

"Yeah, but only for a certain gorgeous blonde of mine and she loves it."

"Oh, she does, huh?" Lucy raised a challenging brow.

"Yep. Don't bother trying to deny it, Luce".

"Ugh fine... you're right. I do. Seriously, you and your colossal ego though."

"Why, thank you! If you're impressed by that, you'd really should see my co—"

The rest of Natsu's words were cut off by Lucy's hand swatting him with a pillow which was met with a snicker.

"Pervert" Lucy deadpanned with another eye roll. "By way, you would've found yourself in the proverbial dog house if you actually meant the other kind of 'fighting earlier."

Only for Natsu's face to instantly fall in response to her statement.

"What?" Natsu objected, gaping at her with wide eyes. " And deprive me of the chance to wake up to your beautiful face each morning for that long?!"

"Yep." Lucy gave a nod by way of reply.

"But why? You know that's not the type of fightin' I met!"

"Well yeah, I know that now. But not earlier when you originally brought up. Just be glad that you didn't bail on our date earlier."

"I didn't though! And never would— honest Luce!" Natsu's voice lifted into a petulant whine.

"Hmm.. Okay, good to know. " Lucy responded, raising her hands to placate him. "Though you'll have to be without me for a few days anyway.

"Wait, seriously?" Natsu faltered , bewildered panic flashing in his eyes. . "Come on! What is it this time?"

"Camping retreat in the woods next week that Cana, Mira, Lisanna, and Erza are organizing— ladies only."

"W-ha?" Natsu continued to sputter, his poor brain no doubt short circuiting by now." But Elfman said that it was open to anyone who's free to go!"

"Really? Lucy mused in thoughtful interest. "That's not what I heard... huh."

"What am I supposed to do without you?"

"How about something fun with the guys? Should be nice, right?"

"Yeah, but so is spending time with you Lucy! It's always more fun when we're together like you said."

"And I don't disagree. Doesn't change anything though. The trip's still happening."

"Didn't say it wasn't but it'd still suck here without you! Natsu moaned, that desperate sense of longing bleeding into his voice. " I'd miss ya' too much! So would our little buddy! Can't we tag along? Maybe Even share an air mattress in a decent-sized tent? I'd gladly help set up and keep you cozy in my arms at night."

"What about Happy?" Lucy questioned, intrigued by his suggestion. His offer does sound really tempting.

"Obviously he'd share the tent with us but would have his own sleeping bag and could hang with Wendy and Carla whenever we wanted alone time. Plus there are all these cool spots I could take you to on nature hikes!."

"Sounds great."

"Course it is! So whaddya say? You onboard?" Natsu wheedled, flashing her what could only be described as the most flawless puppy eyes she'd ever seen.

"Aw that's really tempting and" Lucy gushed, heart contracting at the adorable pout he was throwing in too. Normally I'd say yes"— but it'll have to wait. Thank you though! I'd love to take you up on that offer another day."

"Oh come on— please I wanna go!" Natsu huffed,stamping his foot as if he were a child pitching a fit over being denied a coveted toy- quite an amusing display to say the least.

"Not this time I'm afraid. Sorry, them's the brakes."

"Lucyyyyyyyyy!" Natsu whined again, dragging the syllables of her name with such melodrama that she finally decided to let him off the hook

" Jeez.. enough with the dramatics already. " Lucy yielded with an exasperated groan, You can still come— the trip is for everyone. I was only kidding after all."

Said confession was met with a noise of stunned dimsay from from the pyro.

"Wait... so ya' mean to tell me that this was a joke?! he muttered, voice coming out with a small pinch of disbelief. "You were pulling my leg the entire time?"

"Yep— consider it payback for me making think you were gonna ditch earlier."

"That's why? That's not nice, Luce— not very nice at all." Natsu grumbled, though not with any real heat.

"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it?" Lucy baited, a daring lilt to her words.

" Oh —- wouldn't you like to know?" Natsu rumbled, eyes sparking in a such a calculating way that it sent a electrifying chill down Lucy's spine.

"I would— ngh! Nastuuuu!"

The rest of what Lucy was attempting to say Lucy's words were cut off by the lighting- fast sweep of Natsu's velvet tongue up her thighs . Not to mention that electric high-voltage jolt of ecstasy flooding her veins.

"There! that should show ya!" Natsu let out a cackle of glee. " Not to ever play dirty tricks on a dragon I mean. Guess you're not gonna need that towel after all, huh Lucy?"

"My God..."

"Yeah, I know . Just that amazing with my tongue, I guess. Natsu purred, voice laced with am indecorous promise "Plus, hearing ya' scream my name like that just gave me another hard-on that I'd love for you to see .. "

"Jeez … of course it'd would . and no real shocker that you would say something like that."

"Yep- you know me so well, Luce. and it's not like you're complain' anyway. Want me to prove it?"

" Maybe.. But God- you're such a pompous ass, you know that?"

"Yeah but all part of my charm, sweetheart."

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A/N: And that's Chapter 9 folks! My apologies for the delay by the way! I originally wanted to post this much sooner but got hit with writer's block after getting a somewhat stumped on a particular segment of this chapter. I've also been with my other ongoing fanfics, WIPs and responsibilities among other things in my life . That all aside, at least this chapter was finally posted! Now please feel free to do me a solid and let me know what you think by leaving a comment/ review! Stay tuned for Chapter 10 too! Oh and please feel free to check out the rest of my writing which can be found above, on my profiles and in master post if reading this on tumblr. All right, that's pretty much all I have to say for now! Thanks to all my mutuals/friends, readers and followers for their continuous support over the years! (Corresponding links for the master of my writing and profiles can be found above, in the navigation bar of the desktop and bio if reading this on tumblr.) Until next time-take care!

[nighttimepixels]

someone asked me a really fun & interesting question that i got to answer earlier about my girls and now i’m curious about the lilytale ladies, if they were to be goddesses what would each of their domains be?

H… holy hell I love this ask,, guess who is weak for deity-type AUs?? THIS CHICK. It could go so many ways with them, tbh, but let’s go with…

(shortened list here, details about them under the cut! :D)

Serif (Lady UT Sans): Goddess of Stories and Memory

Vellum (Lady UT Pap): Goddess of Exploration and Discovery

Sapphire (Lady US Sans): Goddess of Light and Warmth

Amber (Lady US Pap): Goddess of Muses and Inspiration

Crimson (Lady UF Sans): Goddess of Combat and Bloodshed

Scarlet (Lady UF Pap): Goddess of the Hunt and Cold

Pepper (Lady SF Sans): Goddess of Passion and Greed

Cinnamon (Lady SF Pap): Goddess of Desire and Envy

Blade (Lady HT Sans): Goddess of Harvest and Ritual Madness

Twist (Lady HT  Pap): Goddess of New Growth and Spiritual Ecstasy

Alpha (Lady Q Sans): Goddess of Invention and Ingenuity

Glyph (Lady G!Sans): Goddess of Music and Dance

Dusk (Lady HF Sans): Goddess of the Lost and Forgotten

Dawn (Lady HF Pap): Goddess of the Untamed and Abandoned

Serif (Lady UT Sans): Goddess of Stories and Memory

Be it history or legends or the excitement of a bard’s tale, Serif is the one mortals seek for support in this. She’s a very accommodating goddess, in fact, and though she enjoys offerings of any sort of homemade food or pillow or blanket, her favorite off-beat offering is precisely what she reigns over - a story, told from the heart. Her followers are often the ones seeking to establish celebrations of stories in local communities, both real and fiction, and the murky in between, and the more stories you share or inspire, the more likely you are to find her favor.

Too, if you cross her - or, as mortals tell it, even if you cross her deific sister or strange associated friends of her fellow goddesses, you’ll find your memory wavering in crucial moments, your stories flat, your histories lost, your spark for that weaving of tales that unites all mortals all but severed.

Vellum (Lady UT Pap): Goddess of Exploration and Discovery

She’s a popular goddess not just among those setting out on journeys, but with those attempting to discover things about themselves, or in their field of passion - and particularly amongst children! Loving parents frequently seek Vellum’s blessing to help inspire bright-eyed children to maintain that spark with ever more life. You’ll have even better luck if you offer her sweets or proof of discovery - and most difficult but rewarding of all, if you can bring her something that allows her a discovery and bit of exploration of her own! (Rumor has it, clever puzzles are a great way to go if you’ve a mind for them…)

Her favor usually just recedes rather than turns outright sour if it does at all, and that’s mostly when you prove yourself cruel to others. However, if you purposely snuff out someones sense of wonder & eagerness to discover, you may find yourself on the rare outright bad side of her opinion… and godspeed to any mortal that thinks they can survive long without blessings in regards to discovery in their everyday life.

Sapphire (Lady US Sans): Goddess of Light and Warmth

The rising sun, the kindle of the hearth, the flicker of a lantern, the gentle guidance of the moon and stars - all these are in Sapphire’s domain, and all these make her all the more loved. She’s nothing so raging as fire, but without her mortals would be well and truly lost - and so for her, people tend to rejoice. Her temples are frequently overflowing with offerings, glimmering rocks that catch the light, a blanket laid out to be taken by those less fortunate to keep themselves warm, a warm cup of tea, a few matches.

Her followers are adamant that she particularly prefers things in her domain that can be of use to those who truly need them, and so are open to be taken should the need truly arise. They’re right, of course - though you might find yourself of the very sour side of her favor if you take of (or withhold) these things without need… particularly if it’s on purpose/in spite. Good luck in those cold nights after you’ve proven yourself cruel, when you can’t seem to hide from the whisper of a breeze that snuffs your every match, when the nights seem darker, the stars obscured by clouds… She’s hard to piss off, but not impossible.

Amber (Lady US Pap): Goddess of Muses and Inspiration

Creatives the world over celebrate the blessings of Amber! She’s a tricky one at times, often pictured with an ineffable, almost mischievous smile - her blessings can come with a twist. You may not know how you’ll be inspired, but frequently it’s not how you expect - but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. Her most ardent followers (artists, writers, musicians, craftspeople - but also countless workers of all fields) often laugh as they curse and thank her in the same breath, inspired for a dozen new things as much as their current work.

She’s got a lesser affiliation with seeking help in finding new paths in life in general - but she’s got a good track record with those that think to seek her help in this regard. And hey, if you’re leaving her baked goods or the results of your latest inspiration, then you’re likely in her good graces.

Crimson (Lady UF Sans): Goddess of Combat and Bloodshed

A fierce goddess that some are a bit too nervous to pray to - but most seek her help at some point in life. War and fighting are common topics, which she works with of course, but lesser known is just how ferociously she acts on behalf of a very different kind of bloodshed, too. She’s most often favoring the underdog, those that desperately need her help, who are taken advantage of and in a terrible bind; but this also includes anyone who has periods. Bloodshed amongst mortals means so many things, and when in the dark of the night, she hears the tightly whispered pleas of those who fear what may happen if their cycle doesn’t come, she has a perfect track record of helping them. Too, those that experience pain or other difficult symptoms, she finds ways to help them - it’s not always pain relief, but perhaps some sort of reward for bearing the burden of such regular bloodshed.

She sees the red that stains cloth and skin and ground alike, no matter how looked over it is by most; she believes those that soldier through it deserve more, and provides the strength to continue on, dreams to soothe the aches of the heart in these hardest of days, and a little more sureness of foot to carry your weary body. Her favorite offerings tend to involve good liquor, but she also enjoys those that linger in her temples, offering tales of their hard-won battles - whether with a weapon, or in the mere workings of their life.

Scarlet (Lady UF Pap): Goddess of the Hunt and Cold

While many pray to her during the hard cold months of winter, any hunter would be a fool to embark without offering a prayer to Scarlet. It’s rare they don’t; it’s not so much that she’d be offended and curse their endeavors, but they’re so much more likely to be successful or find some good favor or growth in their ability that it would be a waste not too. She’s a proud goddess, yet also isn’t one to stand much on ceremony; a cold night’s hunt, while taxing, may also find you the most blessed by her. She rarely gives simple blessings; rather, through her work you may find your skill growing. Some opportunity arising during your hunt to become better than you were in some aspect of it. It’s convoluted, yet worthwhile… if you put in the effort and show your dedication to her affinity.

Offerings of some small portion of your hunt certainly go far, but she also enjoys long tales - most particular of hunts of the heart, pursuit of who you love… in a consensual way, of course. Terrible things come to those she finds have been turning their skills in hunting to provide onto hunting to hurt… many have come to a grisly end, legend says, themselves becoming the hunted in their final days as she drew out their ending as a punishment for what they instilled in others by sullying her domain.

Pepper (Lady SF Sans): Goddess of Passion and Greed

Curiously, her followers are quite split on whether her temples should be lavish or spartan; some argue that she most favors passion of the heart and mind, and therefore would most prefer that passion directed in a way that enriches your life and the lives of others, while others argue that she most favors passion of the body, and so her temples ought to celebrate physical feats, both intimate and otherwise. Technically, they’re both right - her domain spans it all. Pepper is the Goddess of all things Passionate; be it your skill or most loved artform or topic, or be it your acts of passion for those you love.

Offerings that prove your passion, though it seems vaguely described, are what she most favors; that has lead to some temples having… closed off, private sections, for passion between people that wish for blessings to keep such passion cultivated, shall we say. She’s also a fiery goddess, and even if you don’t slight her in particular - well, let’s just say if you act to quash the passion of another (providing it’s not actively harming anyone else’s ability to pursue happiness), you’ll pay a heavy price and may find yourself haunted by apathy and a bottomless, unfulfilled greed with none of the satisfaction of acquisition.

Cinnamon (Lady SF Pap): Goddess of Desire and Envy

Some scholars argue that her and her sister’s domains overlap too much - and it’s true, there is overlap, and many find themselves most successful in praying to both of them. Cinnamon’s domain is broad, however, and is a double-edged sword of the most bittersweet variety. More often than not she’s instigating desire in others, of varying kinds; a challenge to overcome, to sort through, to feel ever more alive in your curious mortal coil. Desire can lead to passion, or to joy, or to curiousity or to combat; it can involve discovery, or storytelling, or it can turn dark in so many ways… not the least of which is brooding, broiling envy.

She’s a gateway to many other domains, and is as loved as she is cursed. Best offer her something tasty, or else find a way to offer something that sparks desire in her as well (a tricky matter indeed, but she likes followers that get creative).

Blade (Lady HT Sans): Goddess of Harvest and Ritual Madness

One of several goddesses here who have a twist in their domain; she’s affiliated with autumn for obvious reasons, though any harvest at any time of year is best had with a prayer and offering to her. Most importantly, though, is the celebration of that harvest (especially in the fall) - and the celebration of this cycle of life. In the death of what has been harvested is the life of you and yours; in your life, brings new life, to be harvested in the future again… and on again. It’s a madness of it’s own, the circle of life; and the more you allow yourself (and ideally, as many people as possible) to celebrate in a raucous, near-mad party that indulges in the absurdity of existence, with food and drink and music and dancing, the more your following year will likely see good harvest.

Life is for living is Blade’s opinion, and the opinion of her most ardent of followers. Even in lean years, celebration and letting loose is encouraged as much as can be managed, at least on a single day, if not the usual several. Her offering is the ritual madness itself, combined with the act of feasting and sharing food with others. Those that would take without providing support of some kind, that would take advantage of the harvesters or quash the stolen joy of the festivals… well. They don’t just have bad luck. Whispers in the winter say such people might just disappear.

Twist (Lady HT  Pap): Goddess of New Growth and Spiritual Ecstasy

Often affiliated with Spring and Summer too, she nonetheless has domain over new growth in other times of the year… and, most pointedly, over growth that doesn’t relate to plants, too. While every farmer worth their salt offers prayers and first blooms to Twist come planting season, so too do people looking to embark on new paths, to become someone better, someone they can strive to be proud of. Too, she welcomes those that don’t know to pray to her… that don’t know how much they need that growth. It’s up to them whether they notice the subtle opportunities that arise under being under her watchful eye, whether they take the step in a positive direction, but she always hopes.

The madness of spiritual ecstasy is associated with her, too. It’s the sensation of breaking through an emotional wall you’d never thought you’d find crumbling under your desperate hands; it’s the vibrance of a dawn after a storm you never should have survived. It’s the incandescent moment of connection with a person your soul sings for; it’s the moments you’re moved to tears, your throat closing, your body trembling as every sense takes in too much atop a heart that cannot bear the agonizing beauty of a moment. It’s the power in a hand that’s always been too weak to bear what you witness yourself nonetheless bearing; it’s the ecstasy of a thousand voices rising in unison, bonded in the name of a single movement. You can pray for it all you want, but it is no easy thing to get; and yet such moments are of her orchestration, a madness you could never bear for long and yet could spend your entire life treasuring the few stolen moments you’ve had.

Alpha (Lady Q Sans): Goddess of Invention and Ingenuity

Little and small inventions alike, clever ruses and brilliant arguments, moments of connecting those two seemingly unconnectable dots - these are all under Alpha’s domain, and she relishes them. It’s a little madness in and of itself, sometimes, but should you cave to seeking it and see it through, you’ll see why her followers are so adamantly devoted. Her temples are akin to science and art museums, at times; prototypes left for her, people reciting brilliant breakthroughs in arguments, children convening to exclaim over their clever game or some connection that had never been explained, yet they made anyways.

Alpha doesn’t discriminate based on any strata of society, and in fact favors underdogs herself… and more intriguingly, is known to be amused by those who attempt to be clever in their prayers too- so long as it’s in good faith, and not just to be an ass. She’s been known to make an ass of those who try to turn cleverness to cruel advantage, and people murmur about those that get a bit too big for their breeches being cursed after flaunting being blessed by her and get greedy or forget to give thanks where it’s due (not just to her, but to the others around the person that made their invention/ingenuity possible).

Glyph (Lady G!Sans): Goddess of Music and Dance

As on the tin, her domain is precisely what you’d expect. There’s not a festival or celebration that doesn’t feature cheers to her, and every musician the land over frequents her temples which are never quiet. Some pray to both her and Amber, seeking inspiration in their music and dance, others combine their offerings between her and Pepper, seeking passion in their art, and still others pair her and Serif, in their effort to tell stories through music and dance- this doesn’t phase Glyph as goddess, and in fact she tends to appreciate those who connect her to other goddesses the most. Truly, she can be connected to them all, and her followers believe that she is in fact happiest when these connections are forged.

Her offerings most frequently come in the form of her domain itself, followers and prayers offered via songs or dances in her name, but too people may find themselves with her blessing if they offer their time to help others with their own music and dance, sharing the love and life of it. Rumor has it that wherever you find celebrations, where music beats with the footsteps of the dancing crowd, you may just find the silhouette of the goddess herself, dancing and inspiring song without people wholly realizing just whom they shared such a moment with.

Dusk (Lady HF Sans): Goddess of the Lost and Forgotten

Her temples are fewer and further between; in truth, there are only one or two that could even be truly called that. More frequently, small shrines are offered to her. At the edges of dark, haunting forests, on misty, cold beaches and at the edges of vast deserts… and too, in the shadows of dark alleyways, where people can be forgotten in plain sight. People who find themselves lost pray to her, quiet and desperate and alone, no matter how many people are around them. Those that pray, however abstractly, on behalf of those lost and forgotten, too, may find blessings as well, guiding lights home when the night seems too dark to get there, the call of a bird that draws them back to a path, or perhaps the flicker of a connection, an outreached hand, when they were in danger of losing themselves not physically, but emotionally or mentally.

She is not a popular goddess, but she is the quiet sort, at the edges of society; those that seek her help, truly, will rarely find themselves turned away, even if what they receive in turn is not what they expected. She has a particular affinity for those who find themselves lost while trying to help others, or while trying to resist the pressures that would have them or their loved ones otherwise crushed. She doesn’t expect much in offerings; curiously enough, simply a heartfelt prayer, and perhaps a return to a place you nearly lost yourself to lay down a blanket, or some food for another lost soul, will have you greatly in her favor indeed.

Dawn (Lady HF Pap): Goddess of the Untamed and Abandoned

Sister goddess to Dusk, of course, many confuse their domains, and yet their overlap is not as great as people would think. Whether it’s the untamed wilds or the untamed spirit, fighting viciously for what it believes in, it falls into her massive domain. So too are those not just lost or forgotten, but truly abandoned, by the will of someone who had the power to choose otherwise. Gentle to those affected by her domain, and vicious to those that landed them there, she’s a lesser-understood goddess who has a small but fierce following. Her temples are less temples and more… holy sites, in a way, some wild piece of landscape with a shrine built that is almost part of the landscape itself.

Her offerings tend to be supplies laid for those that are abandoned, simple things; but too, she has an affinity for wildflowers and rough crystals. You’ll have the best luck if the wildflowers are native and planted by her shrine, rather than cut down (where it will inevitably wilt and die); those that have received her blessing will often speak in awed, hushed tones of a great silhouette in the distance, five, six, seven times the height of a human… not an omen of ill fate, but a harbinger of a blessing they thought might never come.

[monsterquest]

A Secret Light, A Sacred Fire

I would like to present to you my not-at-all new Maul/Qi’ra fic that I am currently writing. Both as an introduction to a ship that I adore and my writing, which I hope to share more of in the future.  Long story short, this is a fix-it AU which immediately follows the events of Solo: A Star Wars Story and my intention was to give both Maul and Qi’ra a chance to pick a different path and find the belonging they have longed for. I’m not here to subvert expectations. 

Rating: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ~nsfw  Current Length: 7/? Chapters (ca 37K words)

⸻

Chapter 1

Qi'ra paced nervously in her quarters, every once in a while glancing out of the viewport. She was no more sure of her fate now than she was when the gates of the checkpoint had slammed in her face on Corellia.

"Han..." she thought, her mind spelling out the name as her thoughts wandered back to him. She sincerely hoped he would be okay.

"As long as he's got Chewie with him, he will be," she found a way to quiet her concerns somewhat.

It was strange to have crossed paths with him again after all this time, especially given the way those three years inbetween had changed her. She had fallen back to the embrace of her past feelings for a moment or two, but had soon sensed a disconnection. What he resurfaced in her was no longer true to how she really felt. He was still the same, that sweet Han that she had fallen for. But she was no longer the same woman. And to him, whom she had become, that woman had gone unnoticed. There was nothing left to hold on to, for his reaction to her was to a memory.

There was no future in the cards for them, and wishful thinking wouldn't change that. Han was still much like the boy she'd known – daring, optimistic, exciting and pulsating with a sincere and magnetic warmth. Something far more precious than anything a smuggler should be. Despite his charm, he remained simultaneously impatient and in the long run fickle and unreliable.

Qi'ra had changed in the span of that time, having grown from a street-smart Corellian brat to a woman determined to survive the many moods and whims of the men who saw themselves in charge of her fate. It was easier to succeed in this when she was able to conceal her vulnerabilities, as one needen't look far for someone eager to exploit such attachment.

Under a restrained facade lay a heavy heart, aware of the hurt she had herself caused, a heart longing to feel the freedom to choose for herself and for the love of someone who saw beneath the many faces she had assumed for others.

Inside, she had never let her fate snuff out the light of hope, but it was a secret fire, a sacred fire, and she alone was its keeper.

Even after all that had been said and done, she regarded Han as a friend. Always. He may have been reckless, but that was a luxury she would not afford herself. Not knowing the fate awaiting her, she would not condemn him to it. At least one of them had to get out of this mess alive. Otherwise, what would the struggle and all those losses have amounted to if neither found true freedom?

She shut her eyes in an attempt to keep back the tears that were now welling up.

"Chewie, please keep him safe," she whispered to herself.

Looking out of the viewport again, Savareen was now but a bright orb in the distance, and First Light was getting ready to make the jump into hyperspace. It would be a long journey – Dathomir lay all the way across the Galaxy, on the other side of the Core Worlds in the Quelli sector, about a day's travel past Mandalore.

*

Nearly ten days had passed when the star yacht finally dropped out of hyperspace and started its agonizing descent on Dathomir. From above, the planet looked anything but inhabitable, its ominous red glow sending out a warning to anyone that might have strayed there, only emphasized now when the crimson light of its central star penetrated the atmosphere at an angle that made it appear ablaze in a wildfire.

In her mind, Qi'ra kept editing the version of the events she wanted to present to her true master. Her betrayal of Dryden would not remain secret for long and, for all she knew, the news would likely reach him long before she did.

Crimson Dawn's operations were spreading far and wide across the galaxy. She herself had worked diligently to ensure this and make herself hard to replace. Once she had earned her position as Dryden's second in command, the latter had found himself forced to include her in the secret meetings he had with Maul. That is how she'd first learned his identity, and simultaneously found out how Dryden had reached out to him from onboard the yacht.

Her role had remained entirely passive in his presence until a few standard weeks ago. Maul had contacted her directly while Dryden had conveniently been away. He had insisted that Qi'ra report directly to him on any and all peculiarities that stood out in Dryden's dealings. The direct request to spy on her superior had come as no small surprise, but she'd known better than to analyze its significance in too much depth, for she was aware how tempting it was to overestimate it and just how grave the consequences could be. Yet, something about it wouldn't let her feel at ease.

Vos might have only been a business front for the syndicate, but the image he had built mattered a great deal. It had been carefully crafted and curated. Even as a puppet only executing orders he had received from above, Dryden was not one to be easily replaced. However illicit and shady the dealings the business relationships relied not only on fear, but required trust. Regardless of its frailty, that trust had taken time and effort to build.

By killing Vos, she had not only betrayed her commander, but undermined Crimson Dawn at large. That remained true regardless of the motivations behind Maul's request. She had pried the ring from Dryden's lifeless finger, and by doing so she had also made a choice from which there was no turning back.

And now she had come here to answer for all of it.

*

Every minute seemed like an uncomfortable eternity as First Light glided towards its destination. What had appeared as a flaming red orb in the vast darkness of space now had distinct continents. It wasn't long before she could already make out the terrain – alternating between lush vegetation, swamplands chasing the horizon, mountain ranges that bulked up like jagged teeth, lined up on open jaws, awaiting its prey.

Soon the craft dropped altitude, moving over the sharp peaks like a knife cutting through air. It was barely an hour past high noon, but nothing broke the red twilight reigning here. Qi'ra spotted a series of overgrown ruins, and a heaviness set into her limbs as she took in the sight. This had nothing to do with her own fate, and everything to do with the fate of Dathomir. This world itself was in mourning, and no sign of life could be found in this half-light. Something about the destruction dealt here felt so final to her. She was vaguely aware of a massacre that took place here – courtesy of the separatists – but what she saw now was the destruction of a whole people, their world and a way of life.

Her eyes rose from the ruins to meet her destination in the distance. A peak rising from the surrounding forest, casting an ominous shadow against the red sky.

"This must be it," she thought and struggled to exhale steadily.

There was nothing resembling a landing pad in sight, but she took it she had arrived in the right place when she sighted another few ships at the foot of the mountain. As the yacht approached she noticed a few guards here and there, droids scuttling about, moving cargo.

The extravagantly decorated starcraft touched down with elegant ease, barely making a sound. The effortlessness of the landing was in no way reflected in how Qi'ra felt about her arrival, but there was no going back now. She knew that she had her own part in the forging of whatever fate she had come to greet here. Any hesitation would only give away her reason for concern. Gathering her courage and trying to steady her heart, she made it to the elevator.

She walked down the ramp in cautious steps and looked up, to take in the sight. Barely registering the rest of the surroundings she felt something pulling her straight towards the massive body of rock, as if it were the center of gravity.

A facade was carved into this side of the mountain. A row of massive pillars in the shapes of women, supporting the overhanging rock above, and between them a massive stone face, its gaping mouth forming an entrance.

Upon a quick glance, there didn't seem to be anyone with the intent of engaging her. That wasn't perhaps the welcome she had expected, but a far more promising start than any of the scenarios for which she had been prepared. She felt her experience caution her all the more because of it, and the blasters hanging from her hips felt more decorative than anything as she took her first steps into the darkness.

The coldness of the air hit her suddenly as she entered the tunnel. The instincts she had tried to quieten were heightened.

"Don't you dare lose your nerve now," she muttered as she braced herself.

The light was minimal, coming from a source she could not quite determine. Her steps cautious and light, she placed one foot in front of the other so many times that she stopped paying attention to her movements or whether anyone had heard her walking. She focused entirely on scaling the darkness, rushing towards her destination. She rounded one more bend, and of a sudden there it was.

Her blue eyes took in this world within a world, lit by a glow of the same hue. She was paralyzed by the sight, weighed down by the heaviness in her chest and tugged by the invisible force that had led her down there.

The enormity of the cave was hard to gauge, expanding beyond her sight into the unknown. The tunnel had opened up to a bridge connecting it with the first of what seemed to be massive columns, broader at the base with enough room on the slopes to be built on. And so, each of those pillars was circled by three or more levels of structures, carved from the same stone comprising houses, temples and galleries, stairs, bridges and balconies all lined with lanterns unlit. The only light remaining now was that of the iridescent water, moving slowly in the glowing pools, falling in narrow streams from the darkness above, evoking eternity.

And that's when she saw him. A dark shadow outlined against the light of the water, standing in complete stillness on a leveled mass of rock in the middle of the cave. Deep in thought, with his head down and hands joined behind his back, the figure remained seemingly undisturbed by her approach as she made her way towards him with quiet resolve.

*

Something in the Force kept prodding at Maul, telling him to come back to the present, but his eyes remained transfixed on the iridescent pool. Whether it was some lingering remnant of Nightsister magic or the oppressing weight of everything that he hadn't yet figured out, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the water. The persistent motion seemed to him like the last bit of life left here in the wake of the massacre.

His mind was clearer now than it had been for a very long time, but he couldn't completely fight the hypnotic effect that only grew more potent the longer his gaze held it. A moment grew into several, becoming a while, growing longer. The water was like a conduit of dark energies with a will of its own, locking his mind into a downward spiral.

Whether or not he could admit it, he was still hoping to find meaning, a place, a belonging, something that would be his own, and not handed to him by any master. The thought left a bitterness on his tongue. He had believed that coming to this place one more time would show him his path. Instead, what he found was a world sunk into ruin, much like he was, reminding him everything from which he had hoped to escape.

He felt a growing irritation erupting at the thought that there was something that both he and the water had in common, both giving the apparent sense of movement when remaining stagnant. The longer he looked at it, the emptier he felt. Perhaps he too was just a dead thing, his body moving with no life left inside.

Realizing he would not find any answers here, his mind began to clear just as he sensed something else intruding into his awareness. He had detected a signature of fear without having to make any effort to read the presence, and knew instinctively whom it was. He could feel it before she'd exited her ship, but it was mixed with something else. She had not come to apologize or to beg. The woman's presence in the Force was like an electric breeze vibrating through him now that she was so close. He snapped back into the moment. She was here.

*

Qi'ra was already crossing the last bridge when the shadowy form slowly turned around and moved forward to meet her. There was something reflexive rising to the surface in response to Maul approaching her. Despite being expected, despite external composure and a certain awareness of what to expect of him, she had to will her legs forward.

Once she had locked her eyes onto the advancing figure, she couldn't remove them, in the same breath realizing the source of the pull. The dark form grew more distinct with each step she advanced, until she could make out the solid frame of a warrior, draped in black.

She had seen him before in holographic form, but true sight of him still came as a surprise.

The bluish glow of the surrounding water outlined a crown of sharp horns above strong cheekbones and a defined jawline, all of his features emphasized by the symmetrical tattoos covering his face, and–

But most striking of all were his eyes, flaming in amber tones. Much like his home planet, they glowed as if lit from within.

Finally standing before him, she bowed cautiously, a gesture Maul returned to her surprise. The Zabrak's expression was impossible to read with certainty, but he was struggling to hide the ongoing conflict below the surface. It seemed as if he was himself unsure how this would unfold.

To her surprise, what she saw in the eyes of the man looking down at her was neither anger nor accusation. More than anything else, it was an all-encompassing tiredness, mixed with something else she couldn't quite fathom. He was looking at her as if trying to find an answer to a question far more complex than simply inquiring about her guilt.

Qi'ra found her eyes drawn away from his unexpected gaze, making their way down across all the places where red skin met black, until they came to a halt on his chest where the golden gleam of the familiar Crimson Dawn emblem hung. No further thought fully formed before the sound of his voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Qi'ra," she heard her name ring in a voice far too soft and mellow for someone this dangerous. This put her more on the defensive.

"Lord Maul–" she started, but found herself all out of ideas.

Suddenly she was unsure if she should remain as silent or seize the first opportunity to start justifying herself. Somehow neither felt like it would increase her chances of redeeming the fact that the public face of the syndicate was now orbiting Savareen among various other kinds of space trash.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” he said casually, putting an end to her inner monologue.

“Oh. I wasn’t there when it happened. So I wasn't really in harm's way,” Qi'ra prevaricated, regretting it instantly.

Maul gave her a look that let her know just how obvious the lie had been, equally irritated and amused, but there was something else in his expression too that she could not decipher.

“Save it for someone who doesn't have such easy access to your thoughts," he said in a dismissive tone.

"I trained him myself, in Teräs Käsi. You either surpass all expectations or were just lucky to beat him in combat."

The man's face resumed its unreadable expression.

"In any case, you are here now. That is... a relief.” His last words stretched out, as if to emphasize their generosity.

“A relief?! I–” she couldn’t hide her surprise.

Qi'ra was stunned by his overall lack of concern for Dryden's death, her role in it and her subsequent ill-advised attempt to lie about it. This was definitely not one of the scenarios that she had played through in her head.

“But... I don’t understand. You know I killed him, but you act as if I have done you a favor?”

"You did," Maul replied with resolve, furrowing his brow.

"There is a reason I contacted you directly, which I'm sure you've realized by now," Maul's tone sounding as if he was trying to distance himself somehow. He looked over her shoulder briefly, before setting his eyes back on her.

"Don't play stupid. It doesn't suit you," he replied to the question he read on Qi'ra's face. His tone was growing impatient, while his eyes retained some inexplicable understanding.

"I'm–" she began, but stopped herself as she caught his look.

"You know exactly what he was like," he continued, while turning to the water again.

"He was clever, I'll give him that. But even that came second to his greed and thirst for power. The sycophancy, it was only feigned, allowing him to move closer to real power – or so he thought – in his hubris believing that his true motivations would go unnoticed as long as he played his role and remained agreeable with me."

The corners of his mouth curled into a snarl at the thought.

"He may have been the face of the operation, but he was a greedy fool, arrogantly believing that he would be so easily trusted, in return for ass-kissing."

The Zabrak's face contorted into a grimace that was split between a smirk and heartfelt disgust.

"In time he only grew bolder, but not a single one of his indiscretions remained a secret to me. I also have you to thank. You may have betrayed him, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you have betrayed me."

Qi'ra was unable to look at him, but she could feel him fixed on her.

"I trust you will make better decisions in the future," he concluded.

*

Maul felt mighty foolish, registering just how out of the norm this was for him, a fact he took no comfort in. Not at the idea that he'd allow someone to prove their worth and loyalty, but that he hadn't even properly considered the risks such a chance would entail and whether it was really worth his gamble.

He was trying to remember what exactly had led him to believe that this was a good idea, giving her a chance to prove herself to be smarter than Vos. Would she not have learned from Dryden's obvious mistakes and perhaps succeed where her former boss had failed? The thought gnawed at him.

Why did he even want her to be loyal to him? Though she had been Dryden's lieutenant, and though she may have shown greater loyalty to him than to that greedy piece of filth, in the greater scheme of things she remained of no apparent importance.

He had somehow arrived at an answer that felt obvious, and yet, why exactly it was, he really couldn't say. Salvaging her from this ordeal, he thought, was something he would have once considered simply done out of laziness. What other purpose could she serve that would amount to more than it already had?

But she had come, after all. She had contacted him straight away. She was afraid, and he could tell just how much, but she had braved that fear and met him face-to-face. Something about that was tugging at him. He cringed ever so slightly when he realized what that feeling was.

At some point he had started pacing but was so caught up in his thoughts that it took him a moment to notice his movements. When he did, he turned around so suddenly that it made the titanium bearings in his cybernetic knees release a cutting sound that came unexpectedly to them both.

Maul caught her looking at his most recent pair of feet that peeked out from under his long cape. Despite her best efforts, she could not hide her reaction from him but, to his surprise, it was neither disgust nor pity that he saw reflected in her face. If anything, she looked saddened, something else he was not prepared for.

The man's eyes dropped to the ground between them and he stood there for a moment with a perplexed look on his face. He had just realized how he would test her loyalty.

"There's somewhere I have to go, and you will be coming with me. Pack what you need, we're leaving shortly and won't return for a while," he announced after a moment of silence.

⸻

If you have reached here, I sincerely hope you have enjoyed reading the story so far. In case you would like to keep reading:

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | ...

[a-marlene-s]

This is a... long list of stuff I have watched or read. Along with a list of Au’s I would write for.

If any of you want to know what ‘Fandoms’ I would write for, here’s a list of things I have seen or watched, and I am willing to write for. Along with a list of AU’s I will write for. 

Keep in mind, the list is subject to change and I had left out some things or I forgot about it. If any of you have any questions, throw me an ask or message.

Anime/Manga:

Books:

Ancient Magus’ Bride

Attack on Titan

Black Bird(Read the first couple of chapters, I need to go back an continue it.)

Black Butler

Black Lagoon(First season-ish?)

Bleach

Bobobo-bo Bo-bobo

Cyborg 009

Digimon Frontier. (Due to reasons, I will only write for this season.)

Dragon Ball

Dragon Ball Z(Still a better love story than Twilight.)

Durarara!!(I really need to watch the rest of this…)

Fairy Tail

Fullmetal Alchemist/Brotherhood

Hellsing

Hetalia(I… I only watched it because my brother told me one of his friends watched it. There’s a fine line of insanity, and it crossed it for me.)

Howl’s Moving Castle

Inuyasha

Kiki’s Delivery Service

Kimetsu no Yaiba

La Corda D’Oro

My Hero Academia

Naruto/Naruto Shippuden/Buroto

Oban Star Racers(I love this show!!!!!!!!)

One Piece(First couple of seasons. It’s been a while…)

One Punch Man

Ouran High School Host Club

Ponyo

Prince of Tennis

Princess Mononoke(My first Studio Ghibli movie. I wasn’t even ten.)

Seven Deadly Sins

Shaman King

Soul Eater

Soul King

Spirited Away

Sword Art Online(Only watched the first couple of episodes. I like it.)

Tokyo Mew Mew

Trigun(I really need to rewatch this.)

Wolf Children

YuGiOh/YuGiOh GX/YuGiOh 5D’s(I will only write for Yugioh 5D’s. Due to personal reasons.)

Zatch Bell

Cartoons: (I’ve seen a lot more, but I won’t mention them here.)

A Christmas Carol

BFG

Charlotte’s Web

Harry Potter

House Of Night Series

Hunger Games(Only the first book.)

Twilight

Games:

6Teen

Addams Family

American Dragon: Jake Long

Atlantis

As Told By Ginger

Avatar: Last Airbender

Batman

Batman Beyond

Batman the Animated Series

Ben 10

Chalkzone

Code Lyoko

Codename: Kids Next Door

Courage The Cowardly Dog

Danny Phantom

El Tigre

Fillmore

Gargoyles

Generator Rex

Growing Up Creepie

Hazbin Hotel(I recently just watched the pilot… it was interesting.)

Hercules: The Animated Series

Hey Arnold

Hi Hi Puffy Ami Yumi

Jackie Chan Adventures

Jimmy Neutron

Johnny Test

Josie and the Pussycats

Kim Possible

Legend of Korra

Lilo & Stitch

Men in Black, The Series

Mighty Ducks

Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir

Monster High

Mummy: The Animated Series

My Life as a Teenage Robot

Mystery Skulls Animated

Pokémon

Proud Family

Pucca

Rocket Power

Rugrats/All Grown Up

Sabrina, the Teenage Witch

Samurai Jack

Scooby Doo

Secret Saturdays

Speed Race: The Next Generation

Static Shock

Super Robot Monkey Team

Sym-Bionic Titan

Teen Titans

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Three Delivery

ThunderCats

Time Squad

Total Drama Series

Totally Spies

Voltron: Legendary Defender

Winx Club

X-Men

X-Men Evolution

Xiaolian Showdown

Yin Yang Yo

Young Justice

Movies:

(A lot of Otome games. Just ask.)

Dragon Age

Dragon Quest IX: Sentinels of the Starry Skies

Elder Scrolls: Blade

Elder Scrolls: Skyrim

Eldarya

Fable

Fallout

High School Story

Hollywood U

Love Nikki

Mortal Kombat

My Candy Love/University

My Forged Wedding

My Sweet Bodyguard

Mystic Messenger

Sly Cooper

Super Smash Brothers

Ty the Tasmanian Tiger

Tv Shows: (English and Spanish)

10,000 BC

101/102 Dalmatians

13 Ghosts

2012

50 First Dates

A Cinderella Story

A Little Princess

A-Team

Ace Ventura

Addams Family

Agent Cody Banks

Alice in Wonderland

Aliens/Predator

An American Tail

Anastasia

Annie

Antz

Aristocrats

Atlantis: The Lost Empire

August Rush

Batman

Beauty and the Beast  

Beetlejuice

Big Hero 6

Black Cauldron

Borrowers

Brave

Camp Rock

Casper

Charlie Angels

Cinderella

Coco

Conjuring

Coraline

Corpse Bride

Crimson Peak

Dawn of the Dead

Despicable Me

Doctor Doolittle

Ella Enchanted

Emperor’s New Groove

Epic

Fifth Element

Finding Nemo

Firehouse Dog

Forrest Gump

Frozen

Green Mile

Hairspray

Halloweentown

Harry Potter

Hellboy

High School Musical

Hobbit

Hocus Pocus

Holes

Homeward Bound

Hotel Transylvania

How To Train Your Dragon

Hunchback of Norte Dame

Hunger Games(One the first movie.)

I Am Legend

I, Robot

Ice Princess

The Incredibles

Independence Day

Inside Out

Iron Giant

James and the Giant Peach

John Wick

Jumaji

Krampus

Kung Fu Panda

Legend of Tarzan

Lila & Stitch

Lord of the Rings

Matilda

Meet the Robinsons

Megamind

Moana

Mostly Ghostly

Mr. & Mrs. Smith

Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium

Mummy

Nanny McPhee

Night At the Museum

Nightmare Before Christmas

Parent Trap

Penelope

Peter Pan

Phantom of the Opera

Pirates of the Caribbean

Pocahontas

Polar Express

Princess and the Frog

Princess Diaries

 Moves under the Main Disney Banner:

Bones

Marvel or under the same publication:

Snow White

DC Films: 

X-Men

DC Animted:

Superman I, II, II (1978, 80 and 83)

LIst of AU’s I will write for:

Superman: The Animated Series

A Christmas Carol

[razieltwelve]

The Day Breaks (RWBY AU Snippet)

Note: This is set in the same AU as Night and Day, Emissary, I Am Become Death, Thunder and Paperwork, Ice and Fire, Apocalypse, and Origin.

X     X     X

Glory.

That was the word that echoed through Blake’s soul as the Goddess of the Day descended from the sky. It radiated from every fibre of her being, a wondrous, celestial glory that captured Blake’s gaze even as it made her want to avert her eyes. 

Unworthy, the thought bubbled up from deep within her. She was unworthy of even looking upon the goddess. Blake had always thought that Yang was beautiful, but this goddess was beyond mere beauty. Light blazed from her, a conflagration of radiance so brilliant it should have blinded them and so hot it should have reduced the world to ash. Yet Blake was not blinded, and her flesh did not burn. Instead, she stared, utterly captivated at the divine version of Yang.

Blake had once wondered how anything could be described ‘inhumanly beautiful’, but now she knew. Every single one of the goddess’s features was impossibly perfect to the point that looking at her was equal parts enthralling and painful, and every single one of her movements was filled with power and majesty. 

The goddess’s hair was wrought of golden flame, a waterfall of solar fire that shifted endlessly in the maelstrom of her own power. Her eyes were lilac inferno’s with swirling currents of crimson within them. Even her skin shone, radiating a brilliance that both soothed and electrified.

Armour of molten gold flowed over the goddess’s body, wreathed in a mantle of flames and punctuated by runes and sigils of platinum and other precious metals. The goddess’s eyes swept over the group, and a memory that was not hers filled Blake’s mind.

Blake saw the goddess in the throes of passion, eyes almost entirely crimson with desire, that golden hair falling over her like a curtain of silken fire. In the memory Blake saw another Blake, this one a goddess, and their passion was a storm of shadow and light filled with such raw, unfulfilled hunger that Blake found herself struggling to even breathe as the memory faded.

How could the goddess stand it? Blake reeled. How could anyone want someone else so much and stand not being with them? She would have fallen if not for Yang’s steadying hand, and she gave the blonde a grateful look as the goddess’s gaze grew heavier, as though she sought to peel back every layer of Blake’s being to glimpse the soul beneath.

“You’d better back off right now,” Yang warned, stepping in front of Blake. “I don’t care who you are.”

The light and heat increased until they were almost painful, and Blake had a feeling that Yang would have found herself on the receiving end of some divine punishment if not for Death.

“You really should turn that down,” Death drawled. “Unveiling so much of your presence is a little excessive, don’t you think?”

The goddess, Day, turned to Death. Her eyes bled crimson. “You…”

“Uh…” Ruby nudged Death. “She looks kind of mad at you.”

“Hmmm…” Death continued to meet Day’s glare. “Well, given the way she was looking at Blakey over there, I’m going to guess that the Blake in her world was someone she loved very much but could not have.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like how you and Weiss end up meeting in just about every world. It’s the same with Yang and Blake. But who couldn’t the Goddess of the Day have? Well, how about the Goddess of the Night?”

“That’s awful,” Ruby whispered. “But why would she glare at you?”

“Because, Ruby, think about it. Day and Night can never meet, save for dawn and dusk, but if they do try to break the natural order, who do you think would be sent to stop them? Death, Ruby, that’s whom the other gods would send. And in so many worlds, a version of us is Death.”

“Oh.” Ruby stared. “So this could get ugly?”

“I have a feeling it will.”

“You…” Day stomped toward Death, and the ground at her feet ignited. In an instant, she was walking atop a lake of molten rock. With an almost casual flick of her wrist, Death moved the others away to safer ground. “Even here…”

BOOM.

Goddess Nora grunted with exertion as she struggled to hold Day’s fist back with her hammer. The other goddess had moved with incredible speed, and the resulting impact had shattered the landscape and sent waves of molten rock spilling outward in all directions. Goddess Nora had barely managed to get between Day and Death in time.

“You know,” Goddess Nora growled. “I really don’t like it when people try to punch my friends. How about you calm down?”

“You dare?” Day growled. “Little goddess, little storm, you have no idea who you’re dealing with. My light is the light of Creation, the fire of the first sun, of all suns. I am every star in the sky, every light that has ever been. I am the one who shines upon the Many Worlds, and there is no mortal in existence who does not know my name. I am the Day.”

Goddess Nora smiled toothily and shoved Day back before drawing her hammer back and bring it around in a thunderous blow that sent Day hurtling into the sky. “That’s great because I am Nora.”

X      X     X

“Are they going to be okay?” Ruby asked.

Death sighed. The sky above them was awash in flame and lightning. Day and Goddess Nora were all but invisible to the mortals, moving far too fast for any of them to see. All they could glimpse were the aftermaths of each collision, shockwaves of power and devastation that would have utterly destroyed Remnant if Death had not cast her power around the area to contain the damage.

“I hope so. Whatever is going on, it can’t be a coincidence that so many gods were brought here.” Death’s eyes narrowed as gauntlets appeared on Day’s arms. When Goddess Nora next swung her hammer, Day actually caught it in one hand. “Oh… that’s not good.”

“What isn’t?”

“Nora’s hammer has a name. In your language, it translates roughly to ‘The All-Smasher’. It shouldn’t be possible to simply catch it.”

“So… she’s hot stuff, huh?” Yang asked.

Death raised one eyebrow. “You know, I always though the Yang in my world made the lamest puns.” She sighed dramatically at Ruby. “But now I stand corrected. You have my sympathies, Ruby.”

“Hey!”

In the sky, Day used Goddess Nora’s surprise to land a blow to her chin that knocked her up beyond the clouds. A second later, Goddess Nora went crashing back toward the ground as Day appeared above her and struck her with a punch that hit so hard that the mortals could hear the thunder of its impact and feel the shockwave it created. Goddess Nora hit the ground with a sound like a meteor crashing to earth, and Death took a deep breath.

“I should probably step in. If Day is anything like the Yang from my world, she’ll keep fighting until someone stops her, and it looks like my friend might have bitten off more than she can chew.”

A massive sphere of light and heat appeared in the sky, and Day pointed with one hand.

“Did she just… summon a miniature sun to throw at the divine version of me?” Nora asked.

Death shrugged. “I suppose you could say that although it’s hard to call a sphere of heat hotter than the core of star that’s a mile wide miniature.”

In response, Goddess Nora gave a deep, booming laugh and raised her hammer. The entire sky ignited, and bolts of lightning crackled down to strike the weapon. The weapon shivered as though it could barely contain so much power, and still the lightning came, bolt after bolt after bolt, until the roar of the thunder was a single, sustained howl that tore the clouds and shook the ground.

“Come on!” Goddess Nora screamed. “Let’s see what you can do!”

“On second thoughts,” Death murmured as she moved the mortals even further away and reinforced the barrier she’d put around the area. “I really should do something.”

Day glared and hurled the miniature star at Goddess Nora. The red-haired goddess grinned from ear to ear and threw her hammer.

BOOM.

X     X     X

Goddess Nora laughed and turned her head to spit out some blood. How long had it been since she’d bled? Too long. This was what she’d been hoping for! A fight - a real fight - where she wasn’t sure if she would win. People were always saying she needed to hold back and show restraint, but here, at last, was an opponent she could throw everything at. Above her, Day was surrounded by a corona of blinding light and heat. Around them, the entire landscape was a blasted, ashen ruin. There were even ripples in space and time, tears in the very fabric of reality that had been created by the clash of their powers.

“Do you really think you can beat me?” Day growled. “Look at you. You can barely stand.”

“You think this hurts?” Nora leaned on her hammer. “I could do this all day.” She pointed. “Besides, I’m not the only one bleeding.” 

Sure enough, there was a small rent in the armour along Day’s shoulder. Through it, barely visible amidst the light that spilled off her, was a small cut.

Day’s lips twitched into what could almost have been a smile. She raised one hand to touch the wound. “All that for a drop of blood?”

“It’s a start.” Nora raised her hammer again. “So… are you going to stand there looking pretty, or are we going to fight?”

Day didn’t bother to reply with words. Instead, she streaked forward like a comet. What followed was two minutes - an eternity given the speed with which gods moved - of the most intense close-quarters combat Nora had ever experienced. Day was incredible. She fought with unbelievable strength and aggression, every punch or kick capable of pulverising a world. She was utterly relentless too, never slowing or tiring even as the force behind her blows only seemed to grow.

She really does live up to her name, Goddess Nora thought parrying a blow with her hammer and blocking another with her arm. After all, there was no stopping the day, was there? Night always gave way to day. Always. And Day had no intention of easing up.

A blow clattered into Goddess Nora’s shoulder, and her arm shattered. She ignored the pain that flared through her being and brought her hammer around to strike at Day’s side. The other goddess caught the hammer again - honestly, she had to be cheating because that wasn’t supposed to be possible - and somehow wrenched it out of Goddess Nora’s grasp. The weapon hurtled away, and when Goddess Nora tried to call it back, Day blasted it away before continuing her onslaught.

“You can’t beat me,” Day growled. “I am the Day.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time.” Goddess Nora drove her forehead into Day’s, but the blonde goddess barely seemed to feel it. “Because I don't care. I am Nora!”

“And I am Death.” Day leapt back as Death appeared, her scythe held at the ready. “And you two really need to stop this.” Death’s silver gaze pinned both of them in place. “Because if you’re not careful, you’ll destroy this world, even with the barrier I’ve put up to contain the damage.”

Goddess Nora grimaced as she realised that Death was right. She’d been having so much fun that she hadn’t really thought about the mortals and their world. Day, however, went right back to glaring at Death. It gave Goddess Nora the creeps. Their Yang was much more cheerful than this grumpy guts.

“You dare…”

“Are you going to give me the same speech as before?” Death asked. “Because you really shouldn’t bother. You might be the Day, but I am Death. You’re not going to beat me. We both know it.” Death allowed a hint of her displeasure to show. “Besides, we have greater concerns than any issue you might have with your version of me.”

“The Death of my world - my own sister - keeps me from my beloved!”

“And that’s awful,” Death replied. “But doesn’t it bother you that we’re all stuck in this world. That can’t be a coincidence.” She was about to continue speaking when she stopped, and her eyes glazed.

“What is it?” Goddess Nora asked.

Death scowled. “I had this world’s version of Salem imprisoned with my power.”

“They have a Salem here?” Day bared her teeth. “Is she a monster too?”

“Yes, but I stripped her of her power.” Death’s scowl deepened. “And now… something has stripped her of her soul.”

“Someone got to her despite your power?” Day asked. “Unless you are a good deal weaker than my sister, that should not be possible.”

“Yes. Someone did get to her despite her being in a prison I created. Worse, I can vaguely recognise the power responsible although it is… twisted and warped.” Death’s hands clenched around her scythe. “It belongs to someone who should be dead. Or rather, it belongs to someone I killed. Personally.”

“That does not sound good,” Goddess Nora said.

“No, it does not.” Death looked at Day. “Which is why we need to work together. You love Night, do you not?” Day nodded. “Then we need to work together. Otherwise, we might all be stuck here, and you’ll never get back to her.”

“A truce then,” Day offered. “Until the truth of this situation is known.”

“Oh.” Goddess Nora grinned. “And a rematch too, you know, when we know what’s going on.”

Day looked at her for a long moment. “Very well.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Divine combat is always fun to write because the divine versions of the characters can do some absolutely obnoxious things power-wise. That said, things are beginning to come to a head. The only one of the four we’re missing now is the goddess version of Blake, and she’ll be appearing in the next snippet.

Naturally, the big confrontation is also coming closer, and if you think things are bad with Fred (the heroic dinosaur and bureaucrat), then you’d better brace yourself. Remnant is going to come under siege too, and Team RWBY and the other teams are going to have to show their stuff.

Why? Because the gods are going to be busy with an enemy of their own.

You can find me on fanfiction.net, AO3, and Amazon.

[shimmershae]

"Daybreak."  (a Walking Dead One Shot, Caryl.  Season 2 AU).

So.  I had a couple of ideas for the October challenge that I didn't manage to finish in time.  One's still a work in progress.  This one's my latest disasterpiece, lol.  I hope somebody out there likes it. 

  Winter melts into Spring and everything’s green and pure again.  So beautiful she almost forgets the way things are.  Almost. 

  The baby finishes her bottle with a distinctly unladylike grunt and Carol smiles.  Kisses each chubby, dimpled finger that clumsily splays over her lips until giggles gurgle from the tiny girl’s mouth and Patricia abandons the dishes in the sink to marvel at them both. 

  “That baby is a miracle.” 

  Voice soft with affection and wonder of her own, Carol agrees.  “She is.” 

        The stop and go thud of a hammer echoes in the distance when she steps outside, the outlines of Rick, T-Dog, and Jimmy small and barely visible as they toil to further reinforce the outer barricade that has kept the farm a safe haven through one long winter already.  

  There’s a crispness to the air, a hint of approaching Fall that she breathes in deep.  Savors even as she loops the loose ends of her scarf around her neck and trudges through grass that is just beginning to grow brittle. 

  “Carol!  Wait up!” 

  Glenn breaks free from Dale’s side and jogs to catch up to her, greets her with an infectious grin that’s fairly brimming with mischief and makes her lips twitch accordingly. 

  “Where, uh, where you headed?” 

  “Nowhere in particular.  Why?”  

         The stable hums with the soft, content nickers of the horses and the music of children’s laughter. 

  “That’s not how you do it.  Tell him, Daryl.”

                                                                                                     “You ever gutted an animal ‘fore, Boy?” 

  “Eww!  No!”

  “You little pussy.” 

  “Yeah, pu…” 

  She steps out of the shadows, making her presence known in the nick of time, and the guilty looks on all three faces is downright comical, the pink tips of Daryl’s ears especially endearing.  She smirks and folds her arms across her chest.  “You’re all wrong.” 

  “You think you can do any better, Woman,” Daryl mutters in bashful challenge, still having difficulty meeting her eyes, “then c’mon.” 

  “You’re on.” 

  Sophia grins.  “I’m on Mama’s team.”

  In unison, Carl and Daryl claim betrayal.  “Dirty traitor!” 

        “So.  Pick one.” 

  Lori bites her lips, glances her husband’s way with helpless eyes that sparkle and shine in the candlelight, the flicker of the jack-o-lantern’s mishapen grin.  “I don’t know.  Rick, what do you think?” 

                                                                                                     Beth’s cheeks pinken with suppressed laughter, and she bounces the baby on her skinny knees when Rick looks just as clearly torn as his wife at his son’s suggestion, and Carol revels in the warm, gentle swell of fondness she feels for these people.  Her family. 

  Diplomatically, Rick passes the buck along to their host.  “I think Hershel should be the judge.  It’s his house.” 

  The Greene patriarch arches a wizened white brow, is wry in his remark.  “My house, is it?” 

  Awkwardly, Rick rubs the back of his neck and studies the pointed toes of his dirty boots.  “Yeah.” 

  “In that case…” 

        That very night, two carved pumpkins take places of pride on the farmhouse porch.  Stay there ‘til the wind starts to blow colder and the leaves shimmer russet and gold in the trees and Carol’s not sure who’s more disappointed to see them go when they eventually do—herself or Daryl. 

        The kaleidoscope brilliance of Fall gradually fades into the stark grayness of another winter, food and warmth harder to come by.  Necessity breeds a deeper closeness. 

  Carol welcomes Daryl when he abandons his lonely bedroll for good.  Seeks sanctuary in her humble collection of patchwork blankets and pillows, Sophia squeezed between the two of them as a reminder of what brought them together as unlikely friends.  What still keeps them apart as more. 

        “You can’t,” Carol insists softly, vehemently.  “You can’t go alone.” 

  His coat is ill-fitting and bulky, his hair a touch too long and falling into his eyes when he ducks his head.  Gnaws anxiously at his thumbnail.  “Be just fine, Woman.  Ain’t never needed nobody ‘fore.  Been on my own for a long time.” 

  Sophia’s thin shoulders slump beneath her hands, and it isn’t lost on Daryl.  Nothing ever is.  She shivers when he chucks a finger under her chin, peeks up at him through lashes spiked with gathering tears. 

  “Shit,” he swears gruffly.  “Not you, too, Kid.” 

  “It’s different now,” Sophia sniffles.    

  His eyes catching hers over the top of her daughter’s wind mussed hair, Daryl fiddles absently with the strap to his crossbow and frowns.  “Yeah?  How so?” 

  “You got us.” 

    He takes Glenn with him beyond the wall.  Reluctantly agrees to let Jimmy tag along as they venture deep into the surrounding forest and an outside world they no longer recognize. 

  For two nights, there’s a yawning emptiness in her bed that not even Sophia’s growing limbs can fill and a lump of dread lodged in the pit of her belly like a stone.  For two days, she seeks the comfort of Maggie’s unspoken understanding. 

  Then the third day dawns. 

      She wakes on the third day to the pounding of T-Dog’s boots on the porch steps, the bang of the front door against the wall as he shoulders it open, his rifle shaking in his hands.  He looks like he’s seen a ghost, and it doesn’t take long to figure out why. 

  Glenn’s lips are pale and trembling.  His eyes haunted as he helps Daryl shoulder the burden of Jimmy’s dead weight, what’s left of the boy’s left leg soaking through a makeshift tourniquet and dripping blood, thick and dark, all over the floor like a crimson rose. 

  Hershel springs into action, immediately pushing Glenn for answers.  “What the hell happened out there, Son?”                                                                                                      

  Patricia readies their meager supplies and Sophia and Carl watch it all with wide, worried eyes.  “We’re going to need some help.  Carol?” 

  But she’s lost, frozen to the spot, and she can only nod when Lori places the baby in her arms.  Squeezes her shoulder and gives her a reassuring smile, her brown eyes warm with understanding.  Then she’s hurrying after the others and Beth’s ushering the children upstairs and Dale’s by her side, dodging tiny fingers that want to pluck and pull at his bushy brows. 

  “He’s all right,” the older man says.  “He made it back.” 

  “He made it back,” she agrees.  The rest?  She’s not so sure. 

        He comes to her hours later, after T-Dog has relieved Rick once again for watch.  After Glenn and Maggie have sought their own refuge away from prying eyes.  After she’s sent Lori away, to bed and hopefully rest.  He finds her in the kitchen staring sightlessly out the window at the stars that have begun to blanket the navy sky. 

  “How is he?” she asks, nuzzling her damp cheek into the baby’s soft hair.  Hugging her close when she starts to fret in her ongoing battle against sleep and whispering nonsense words into the shell of her tiny ear, bits and pieces of almost forgotten lullabies. 

  “Running a fever.  Old Man’s not sure if it’s the virus, or…” 

  “It’s just an illusion, isn’t it?  All that we’ve built here.  We were foolish to even think…”  She doesn’t finish because he’s a solid wall of heat and careful restraint behind her.  Comfort she has no right to. 

  “We’re tryin’.  S’got to count for somethin’.” 

  “It could’ve been you.” 

  “Weren’t.” 

  “Could’ve.” 

  “Know.” 

    The boy hangs on.  Survives.  His scars, though?  He doesn’t bear them alone.   

        It snows.  Pretty and pristine, it paints the farm in the pale promise of something new.   

  The children become children again.  The rest of them, too.  Even Rick.  Even Daryl.    

  To Carol…that’s worth all the soggy socks, the pink sniffly noses.   

      The house is quiet by the time the little upstairs bedroom door creaks open beneath Daryl’s hesitant hand.  Nobody stirring but Rick downstairs, pacing the halls with one very restless baby girl.  Still, Carol’s awake when he sets the candle he’s carrying down on the bedside table.   Realizes it’s just her. 

  “Where’s ‘Phia?” 

  “Downstairs.  With Beth.” 

  “Doing what?”

  The concern he can’t quite hide makes her smile.   “Painting each other’s toenails.”   

  He pauses in the act of unbuckling his belt, fixes her with a stare.  His blue eyes, however, glint with amusement as he pulls the covers back and sits down to work on untying his boots.  “Stahp.” 

  “Sleeping,” she tells him more honestly.  “Keeping each other warm.” 

  “Pfft.  Scoot over.” 

  One breath and the dancing flame of the candle dies, casting his features in shadows and silver moonlight.  Her fingertips seek out and kiss his.  “Daryl?” 

  “C’mere, Woman.” 

      “What is this?” she wonders aloud, weeks later.  When she’s warm and safe in his arms again and the stars wink outside their window.  “What are we doing?” she tries again when he takes his time answering.  His warm breath stirs her hair and his fingers hesitate only briefly before they lace with hers.  She waits.  Waits some more. 

  “Keeping each other warm.” 

       Winter melts into Spring and everything’s green and pure again.  So beautiful she almost forgets the way things are.  Almost. 

      The breeze blows gentle and the baby snores as the rocking chair creaks, her hair curling in dark wisps around her sweet face and one of her small fists tangled in Lori’s long hair.  She’s worn out from a day spent toddling around the farmhouse, testing her mama’s patience and her own limits, and Carol can tell she’s not the only one.  It’d been a difficult pregnancy, a dangerous birth her friend had never quite fully recovered from, and she worries.  They all do.  “You want me to take her?  You can go get some rest.” 

  Lori shakes her head in answer.

  They lapse into easy silence again and Carol’s gaze drifts outward.  To Hershel, teaching Rick how to sow seed in the fields.  To Glenn and Maggie, sharing a tender moment beneath the shade of the trees.  To Dale, nearby with Jimmy.  And finally to Daryl, walking toward them with Carl ever in his shadow and Sophia by his side, his chin dipping in an acknowledgement that makes her cheeks flush and her heart threaten to take flight.    

  "Love looks good on you.” 

  Carol gasps, turns startled blue eyes on Lori’s knowing face.  “What did you just say?” 

  “You heard me.” 

         He brings her a flower, another Cherokee rose.  Thumbs her tears away when the memories start to ache behind her breastbone and kisses her mouth like she’s something rare and precious when really it’s him that’s special.  Him that makes her thankful for the end of the world.  From that first rose to the moment he stumbled out of those woods.  Bruised and bloody but with her baby in his arms. 

  “Patricia wanted me to tell you dinner’s read…shit.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.  I’ll just…” 

  “Rick?”

  “Yeah?” 

  “Fuck off, Man.” 

  “Right.  Yeah.  Congratulations, you two.” 

       The evening’s warm, the air heavy and sweet like Summer as twilight starts to fall and the fireflies begin their nightly dance.  Sophia’s voice brave and determined when it reaches her ears through the open window.   

  “Do you like my mama?” 

  “What do you think, Kid?” 

  “I think you love her.” 

  “Ain’t saying I do, but if I did…you have a problem with it?” 

  “What do you think?” 

  “Thinking this is something best talked ‘bout ‘tween me and your mama.  S’what I think.” 

  “Daryl?” 

  “Yeah.” 

  “We love you, too.” 

      That night, they do more than just keep each other warm. 

  Carol gives him her trust and her whole heart, lets him cover her body and kiss her scars.  Make her sigh until she sobs and clings to him, loving fingers woven through his hair and trembling legs tangled with his own. 

  It is enough just to hold each other.  Enough to look into each other’s eyes and see the truth shining there, bright and undeniable. 

  Without words, they love each other.  Until dawn breaks gentle and soft. 

          Glenn eases down beside her on the porch steps, stares at the pocket watch he holds in his hand with wonder.  Carol doubts it’s left his possession since Hershel gifted him with it.  “Penny for your thoughts.  For what it’s worth,” she teases, nudging his shoulder with her own. 

  A flicker of a smile flirts with Glenn’s lips but he remains serious. 

  Worried, she presses.  “Glenn?  Everything okay?” 

  “Everything’s great.  Really great.” 

  “Glenn.” 

  The watch swings like a pendulum from his wrist, and it takes several seconds for him to respond.  “You ever think about how different things might have been?  Say if Shane hadn’t left?  If Andrea hadn’t gone with him?” 

  Her eyes find Lori, across the yard with Rick swinging the baby between their arms and making her squeal.  Carl, tickling his sister’s chubby belly on each upswing and making her squirm.  Dale, deep in animated conversation atop the RV with T-Dog and Hershel.  Binoculars around his neck and book in hand.  T-Dog and his rifle at the ready for trouble they haven’t seen in months.  Sophia, sunbeams catching in her strawberry hair as she sticks close to Daryl’s side, never strays far.  Finally, the man himself, always keeping her and her girl in his sights.  Her voice catches as she poses a couple questions of her own.  “If Daryl had walked out of those woods alone?  If he hadn’t even walked out of them at all?” 

  Glenn looks stricken, guilty.  “I’m sorry.  I never meant to upset you.  I just…”    

  “Everything works out the way it’s supposed to.  You have to believe that.”  Sophia waves and Carol stands up, dusts the seat of her pants before making her way down the steps.  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m being summoned.” 

  “Carol.” 

  She turns.  “Find Maggie, Glenn.  Ask her.” 

  “You think she’ll say yes?” 

  “I know she will.” 

      Daryl takes her hand as Sophia walks on ahead, the pond gleaming gold in the afternoon light. 

  “Hey.  You alright?” 

  She brings his hand to her mouth and brushes a tender kiss to his scarred knuckles, smiles.  “I’m good.” 

  “Just good?” he teases gruffly. 

  “Perfect.”