#old moon appreciates the quiet company

[storytellingbadger]

Turns out Old Moon and Solar's Sun "Swift" have a lot in common.

Both are back from the dead. Both feel responsible for the devastation and destruction they left behind. Both are a little lost, trying to forge places in a family that went on without them. Both fiercely love their brothers. Both mourn a life that's long behind them.

As it transpires, they also both love numbers and mathematics, and bond over chess and sudoku.

Unexpected besties.

Based on my TSAMS AU Celestial Phenomena over on AO3. Mind the ratings.

[i7nn8a]

part two of this

Your gods must bless you greatly. That was what Sukuna thought when you knelt before him, reminding him of the day he first saw you. It had been three months since he brought you to his estate, utterly intrigued by you, and that fascination had only grown. It took him three months to realize that the words you spoke to him weren’t a joke.

In your first days with him, Sukuna simply watched you from a distance. You were quiet and didn’t trouble him with any issues, something he greatly appreciated. You had a routine—one he memorized. In the mornings, you would have breakfast with his concubines, silently. He could tell you hadn’t made many friends.

After breakfast, you would head to some isolated corner of the fields surrounding the house and either read a book or perform some sort of ritual. Occasionally, he caught glimpses inside the box you carried from place to place. It was difficult to see from his hidden vantage points, but he managed to discern that it contained elements for an altar, where he had seen you praying and even, he thought, blessing objects.

When lunch came, he noticed you would take your meal and eat alone in another room, avoiding company altogether. Afterward, you would write—only write—in what appeared to be a diary.

At dinner, however, you would dine with him. Just the two of you. Most nights, the meal was consumed in silence, but on some occasions, you spoke to him. Unlike others, you didn’t fear him. When he asked why, you simply replied that fearing him was akin to fearing death, and death was merely a way to reach eternity. You said your soul would go everywhere: to the flowers, the air, and the moon, whom you called "mother." Over time, Sukuna found himself growing more and more interested in you, paying less and less attention to everything around him.

You had peculiar habits. On full moon nights, you would cut a strand of your hair and bury it. You would place water outside to absorb the moonlight and retrieve it before sunrise. You murmured strange words while combing your hair. What Sukuna saw were harmless, mundane spells—until now.

It happened two weeks ago. One of the concubines, jealous of the attention you were receiving, burned some of your books, ruined your belongings, and destroyed everything inside the box that held your altar materials. You were furious. Sukuna enjoyed seeing that side of you, but it was short-lived. You quickly composed yourself, acting cold and indifferent, as though nothing had happened.

But he had seen it. He had heard it. When night fell, you went outside the estate, unaware of the four eyes watching you. A diagram, drawn with your own blood, marked the ground. Incense was lit, and words were whispered—words incomprehensible but melodic, like a chant or a foreboding omen.

The next day, the woman who destroyed your belongings began to wither. It took about eight days. It was astonishing. First, her hair started falling out and turning white. Then her teeth rotted, or those that didn’t simply fell out. Her skin became wrinkled, like that of someone a century old, not a woman of 20. Her bones grew fragile. She couldn’t sleep, claiming demons haunted her dreams. The doctors couldn’t explain it; no one could. Well, Sukuna could.

The more lifeless the woman became, the more radiant you appeared. Your hair shone brighter, your skin grew softer, and your lips gained a richer color. He understood everything. It didn’t take long for the servants and the rest of the harem to connect the dots, remembering that when the king first met you, you had been accused of witchcraft. It wasn’t long before they dragged you before him once more, bound.

And here you were, accused again. The difference was that now he knew you were guilty. The similarity was that he still didn’t care. If you hadn’t taken care of her, he would have done it himself. But something about the way you did it had left him spellbound. Your eyes still looked at him without a trace of fear, and your lips still curved into a small smile. You didn’t fear him, and he had no idea how far you were willing to go.

The other concubines knelt around you, begging him to punish you. Yet the only thing he could focus on was how you would look with that same defiant gaze, crying and drooling, kneeling between his legs.

He must have fallen under the witch’s spell.

[short-honey-badger]

Doll 15

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary. Shanks and Mihawk talk, and you start your training with the warlord.

*note* Just want you guys to know that I appreciate all your love for this series. It's gotten bigger than I thought it would, but I hope you're enjoying it so far! Anyway. I'm going to be taking some creative liberties with haki in the next couple of chapters. Also, I think I'm going to sprinkle in some Mihawk x Reader every now and then. I just love the thought of the reader having two men who would move the stars for her, haha. It'll definitely be a different dynamic than my peppermint tea series, but will most likely stay Shanks x Reader centric. Sorry for the mini rant! Enjoy! ❤️❤️

Doll Masterlist

Later that evening, after you have fallen asleep, Shanks and Mihawk sit together out on deck, sipping sake and wine, respectively. They are silent, simply enjoying one anothers company. It’s been a long time since they’ve been able to do this, and Mihawk regrets a little bit for staying away for so long. The sky is clear tonight, and when he tilts his head up, he has a clear view of the stary night, the moon big and full above them.

He looks over when Shanks sighs, dark eyes closed, and his haki a muted yellow that clings to his back. The redhead tips back the bottle of sake and then sets it away, the bottle thunking on the deck of the ship. He turns his head, meeting the other man’s eyes, voice soft, “What are you really doing here, Mihawk?”

The warlord doesn’t answer at first. His only reason for tagging along was sleeping below deck, safe and sound. He sips his wine, the flavor fruity and dry on his tongue, before he shrugs, voice unconcerned, “I’ve already told you why, Red. It’d be a shame to let her talents go to waste.”

He sips from his glass again, swirling the liquid before he cuts his eyes away from Shanks and back to the sky above. A mischievous smirk paints his lips, “And I was bored.”

Shanks snorts beside him, shaking his head at the warlord. It feels good to have his old friend back by his side, and he wonders how long Mihawk will stay with them. He’s silent for a while, and then his mind casts back to the island and the way Hawkeye had looked while holding you, that protective look in his eye, the way his hand had kept your face turned away from the commotion around them. He licks his lips and frowns but finds that, while a little jealous, he isn’t mad over any of it.

“You feel it, too, don’t you?”

Mihawk cuts his eyes back to Shanks, brow furrowing for a split second before it smooths back out into a look of disinterest, “I might.”

Shanks glares at his friend, “Don’t be that way. We’ve always been truthful with one another. You can’t start lying to me now, Mihawk.”

The warlord scoffs and rolls his eyes, tone exasperated, “Yes. I know what you're talking about, Shanks. There is a draw that I feel for her. It pulls me in and makes me want to do things I've had no interest in ever doing before.”

Shanks nods along, eyes bright, “I'd burn the world for her if she ever asked. I don't understand what it is, but I can't let go. It's all consuming, Hawkeye.”

He goes quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is soft, but truthful, “And I don't want to, but sometimes it… scares me how much I would do for her.”

Both men fall silent. There is a lot to unpack in Shanks’ confession, but neither men truly understand what is going on or why they are drawn to you in such a way. Mihawk thinks it might be your haki, that pale pink is so addicting, so precious that the warlord yearns for it. To feel it wrap around him and hold him closer. He is sure that Shanks feels the same way. Dracule thinks that is why he had made the trip to Mooreboro in the first place. He may have said it was for the wine, but he had felt a pull long before he had arrived on the island. He purses his lips. It makes the warlord uncomfortable to know that someone, even someone as humble and kind as you, had that kind of sway over him. It was unnatural.

“I will look into it when it's time for me to leave,” Mihawk murmurs and watches Shanks nod out of the corner of his eye. Gloom Island was home to countless history books, so there was promising hope of finding something within them.

“Thank you, by the way, for agreeing to help her,” Shanks says after taking a pull from the bottle of sake. He rolls his head to the side, giving Mihawk a grateful look, “And for what you did for her earlier. She's got a lot of demons, Mihawk.”

The dark-haired man hums. He could have guessed that by seeing her bounty poster. Dracule hadn't liked seeing that faraway look in her eyes.

“It's good that you found her when you did,” he says and finishes off his wine, staring at the glass in thought, “It’s only going to get worse.”

Shanks frowns, a heavy sigh leaving him as he slumps forward, a bottle of sake resting between his legs. He knows the other man is right, and it saddens him to know that your life would forever be one of either running or fighting to defend yourself, but that is what he would be there for. He chances a look at Mihawk, lips twisting and his chest twanging with jealousy for a split second, and what the warlord would be here for as well.

The two sit in companionable silence for a while until Shanks hears the sound of a door opening and the soft pitter patter of socked feet. He turns to find you standing behind them, wrapped up in the blanket from the bed and a pout on your face. He smiles at you, eyes soft and opens his arm, “Come ‘ere, baby. Mihawk and I were just sharing a drink.”

You grumble and plop beside him, leaning into his shoulder and tugging the blanket closer to you to keep the chill of the sea at bay. Cool fingers gently scratch your scalp, and you feel sleep creeping back within seconds. Shanks looks at his friend and shoves that green envy down once more, and most likely for the final time. You seem to like the other man, find comfort in the way Mihawk touches you, and how that royal purple, now the color of lilac wraps around your own pale pink, soothing you back to sleep.

No one had expected this of all things to happen, but Shanks had never thought to ever find a woman he loved more than the sea itself. He met Dracule's ringed eyes over your hair and dipped his head in a nod. When Mihawk nodded back, Shanks knew that a partnership of some kind had been forged in these quiet moments on the ship. He didn't know what would happen next, but he did know that you would be safe and that you were theirs. And that's all that mattered.

-

You wake the next morning, head feeling stuffy and nose pressed against a warm chest. You crack open your eyes, brow furrowed when you see the unfamiliar pallor of flesh under you. Shanks definitely wasn't this shade of olive and was a bit darker than this. Still confused, you raise your head, cheeks exploding in a blush when you see Mihawk staring down at you with an amused look.

“Beckman called Shanks away, so I decided to take his spot,” the warlord explained as you pushed away from him. He can tell that you are embarrassed, maybe even guilty when he sees the look in your eyes, so he is quick to assure you, “Red and I came to an agreement last night, darling. You don't have to worry.”

Still, you stand and create some distance between the two of you, stretching your arms up and listening to your back pop. The front deck wasn't the best place to sleep. You can't help but wonder what kind of agreement Mihawk is talking about. You don't remember anything other than leaving your room in, following the two auras that you could feel outside.

The need to immerse yourself in them had been almost overwhelming, and your sleepy mind hadn’t put up enough effort to stop yourself from seeking them out. This hadn't been the first time it'd happened, but usually, Shanks was readily available, making it easy for you to cull the urge and snuggle up to the redhead. You'd felt that same pull for Mihawk the other morning while he helped you and Shanks stumble back to the Inn.

You understood the pull to Shanks. You loved him, and he had been the one to give you a chance, but it made you nervous to feel the same way toward the warlord. You'd just met the other man, but already his presence gave you a sense of comfort, that same belonging that you felt with the redhead. You honestly didn't know what to make of it.

“What kind of agreement?” You ask once you've pulled your thoughts together. Mihawk stands, following your lead and rolling his neck to work out the kinks in his shoulders. You wait patiently, expecting some kind of answer, but it isn't the one you want right now.

“We'll talk about that later. For now, we should get breakfast, and then we'll start on the foundations of your training.”

Mihawk strides past you, and you huff in annoyance before you follow after him. He isn't wrong. You are very hungry.

After breakfast, you disappear for a while to go and clean up, coming back up feeling nice and refreshed, and hopefully ready for whatever Mihawk plans to throw at you. You’re dressed in loose, baggy leggings and a matching flowy top, perfect for the growing climate, and meet the warlord near the bow of the ship where he is speaking with Shanks. Hawkeye is dressed down, wearing his long coat replaced by a shirt that shows off most of his chest, and you have half a mind to ask if he’d stolen it from Shanks.

The redhead grins when he spots you, and you tuck close to his side, chest swelling with delight when he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Morning, babydoll,” He greets, voice amused, “How’s your back?”

You shake your head at his picking, “Hot water helped, but I won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

Shanks laughs at your petulant tone and shares a look with Mihawk, who rolls his eyes at them, “Anyway, I’m going to leave you in his hands, sweetheart. Benn needs me today to figure out where we want to go next. I’m thinking somewhere tropical?”

Mihawk shoos the emperor away, “Go on, then. You’re far too much of a distraction, Red.”

Shanks gives you a kiss goodbye and a wish of good luck, and you slap him on the arm for his teasing, making the redhead laugh as he saunters below deck.

Once your captain is gone, you turn your attention to Mihawk, who you find is staring at you, head cocked to the side, eyes casting from your socked feet to the top of your head. Your haki fluctuates around you like the waves crashing against the ship, curling around your hands and down around your thighs. It’s so pale that it looks white at some points, and Mihawk thinks that it’s one of the most interesting sights he’s seen in a long time.

“Tell me what you’ve learned,” He asks finally, and you nod, begging to list off everything that Shanks and the crew have been teaching you about your abilities. Mihawk nods along, making mental notes, as one hand rubs his chin back and forth in contemplation. Once you finish, he gestures for you to sit on the deck, and he follows suit, sitting in front of you.

“Red has surprisingly done a good job in making sure that you know the basics, so you have a good foundation for us to start on," He begins and watches your haki fade into a depper pink, obviously proud of yourself. Mihawk gestures at all of you with a wave of his hand, “That’s what we’ll start on, I think. Your haki expresses your emotions as if you’re screaming them to the world. You need to separate the feeling from the usage of your ability.”

You bite your lip and nod, listening with rapt attention as Mihawk begins to explain the best ways to go about your training. Unsurprisingly, you would be doing a lot more meditation, and the warlord gave you some tips on what might work better for you to keep you focused. When he suggested breathing exercises, you latched onto the idea with fervor.

“I have panic attacks, usually after a bad night, or when I get too overwhelmed. You witnessed a small one back on the island,” you say and look at him with grateful, earnest eyes, “Thank you for helping me get past it.”

Mihawk waves your thanks away. “It was the least I could do for you, darling. The breathing technique I will show you will help you recover from them faster.”

You smile in thanks, and a feeling of relief settles over you. It feels nice to know that you would know how to deal with your attacks better soon. It made you feel settled in your own skin, and you would be forever grateful to the warlord for it. Mihawk is watching you when you pull from your thoughts, head tilted to the side and back straight with perfect posture.

“Are you ready, darling?” he asks, and you nod, mimicking his form, and Mihawk nods back, “Then let’s begin.”

[lm-tomatito]

Espilver week day 6: Stories

College au

Big thanks to @seaweedraindraws for coming up and sharing this au✨

If there was something Silver enjoyed as much as hiking and learning about nature, it was spending time with friends. If there was something Espio enjoyed even more than reading and writing, it was his roommate's company.

The fall nights at the dorms were very calm and quiet, with just the sound of some crickets and the wind brushing the trees outside, orange and red hued leaves falling while illuminated by the bright moon. Inside was perfect too, with cozy blankets and pillows next to the wall. He enjoyed sitting on the floor to read, it was more comfortable to him than sitting at a table or on the bed, it just felt right.

He enjoyed silence, it helped him both focus and relax, and as someone who enjoyed literature, this was the perfect type of mood to lose himself in beautifully written words. What else could make his evening better?

That's when the sound of the door opening a bit loudly invaded the room, followed by a long tired sigh. He lifted his gaze to find his current roommate, not at all surprised by his fatigued state, and his quills and face stained with grass, dirt and small scratches. This was normal, yes, but he still wished his friend was a little more careful on his adventures.

“You need to clean yourself and rest.” He said while opening his book again, using it as an excuse to hide his slight blush. The rowdy appearance of the other was always too attractive to him.

“I know.” The other whined a bit, knowing he couldn't just immediately go to rest like actually wanted to.

If it wasn't for his cleaner, more organized and elegant roommate, he would leave a big mess everywhere he went, with clothes thrown on the floor, school utensils lost in the most random of corners, and him immediately going to sleep or work in whatever state he was in. His friend had helped him gain better habits about it with his advice, small reprimands and just checking on him when he could.

Just like now, when he was about to step inside only to stop when the other looked at him again, this time more seriously. He laughed awkwardly, untying his mud stained boots and leaving them at the entrance so the already old and cheap looking rug didn't suffer any consequences. The older one nodded in approval, returning to his reading while the botany student went to grab some clean clothes and entered the washroom.

Before, he was a bit worried the hedgehog might find him annoying because of his attitude, he was just too used to taking care of his younger brother back at home, and even his adoptive father since he too was someone to put other matters and people before himself. It was like that until one day, still not sure why, he just asked him about it. With reassurance, the younger one immediately denied it, saying how that made him feel the complete opposite, appreciating how much he took care of him because it made him feel important. He wished he could with how low he felt about himself too, but was still grateful for his positive answer, and his heart fluttered when he innocently added an enthusiastic “I like you” at the end. As a friend, he reminded himself in his head.

And that was good. He enjoyed passing time with his friend, and he definitely wanted to keep doing it for a long time. He held him dearly in his heart, so dearly. He liked him too, just… Not in the same innocent and platonic way. And he reprimanded himself constantly about it.

But… Just how could he not feel this way when the other's insignificant actions and words meant the entire world to him? When his different expressions gave him the warmth he naturally lacked? When both of them understood each other so much now? They were so different, but so similar too. Because as different as their personalities were, the two enjoyed the same serene autumn nights.

And he just smiled to himself when he noticed the hedgehog trying to quietly approach him after his shower, slightly wet fur and quills tied in a ponytail he'd have to bring up later to him, wouldn't want the risk of him getting sick because of his fashion. A mix of the fresh scent of soap and the forest he was definitely hiking in before invaded him at the same time as the sound of his heart beating like crazy when his roommate got too close to him just to see what he was reading. He almost didn't hear the other asking what the book was about with the loud internal screaming he had in his mind. He tried his best to stay composed and act as usual, hoping his friend wouldn't notice the now pinkish almost red color of his scales.

“Just a leisurely read. Nothing to do with school or of much importance.” He answered, a part of him hoping the younger one would find it boring and move away to find something to do before blacking out as he usually did instead of sleeping normally. The rest of him yearning this closeness between them would last forever.

“Do you like it?” The question seemed a bit confusing, even more so with the seriousness he was using.

“Yes? I do.”

“Great!” He said, his bright personality back again with a grin. “If you like it, then it's cool!”

Hearing him say “you” and “cool” at the same time stunned him a bit, but not as much as him now sitting next to him, shoulders touching and cheeks almost brushing. He felt his brain almost short circuit, and he wondered if the hedgehog knew what he was doing.

As someone who was alone most of his life, he understood the other's obliviousness regarding social interactions and relationships. But knowing each other for a long time now, he'd also been witness to how mischievous and smart he could be. It made him feel nervous, did he perhaps know about the feelings that bloomed inside him some time ago? Or was he just trying to bother him with physical contact? If it was the latter, well, he should know by now the uneasiness he had with almost everyone else didn't count him. It freaked him out, but not in a negative way. If sweating and hearing your heart thump like someone who just ran a marathon was positive. But otherwise he didn't mind when the other touched or got this close. So maybe… Maybe he knew?

He cautiously looked at the other, who's gaze was focused on the book he held in his hands, his body language just showing comfiness and how eager he was to learn about whatever had the chameleon’s attention before. Maybe he was just thinking too much about it, so he sighed to remain calm and started reading at a slower pace than he was used to, being aware of how easily the other would be confused or lose his focus if he started to speak too fast. They had a long tranquil night before them after all. They could enjoy each other's presence right now.

With his attention on the book again, he didn't notice his roommate's cheeky smile and his golden eyes shining with tenderness in his direction.

[cherrychokerr]

MY SELF INDULGENT BULLY OC THE TIME IS NIE

if you expected canon character content ITS STILL COMING SHH. here take a 10 dollar bill go buy yourself something and keep busy just be quiet

DARCY ZHAO INTRO

Darcy (20 unidentified middle names) Zhao is a 17 year old boy and a rather new member of the Preps.

He is well-intentioned, though misguided, and is easy to fall for manipulation. Most students dislike him for one reason or another due to his awful decisions.

Darcy was born in Baltimore, Maryland, to an immigrant family. His father owns a successful publishing company, and Darcy lives very comfortably because of this. Despite his wealth, he remains grounded and has never taken school as seriously as a lot of cliques do. Upon arrival at Bullworth, he naturally laid low and never had too large of an effect on anyone who met him. At this time, he was close with Pete, who he shared a realm with-- Being too dorky to hang out with the cool kids and too cool to hang out with the dorks. They found solace in each other because of their shared situation.

Darcy is eager to please those around him and would often run errands for the shop instructor by picking up parts from town or cleaning up behind the students. This is where he formed a somewhat close friendship with Lefty, which he still tries to maintain despite their rivaling cliques.

Darcy's parents began funneling cash into Bullworth, having faith that it'd be put toward a better quality of life for students, better food and curriculums, and anti-bullying campaigns. Derby caught wind of this new donor and thought of it as an opportunity for a new prep. They were running a little low anyway, Derby had been sitting on that information for a while.

Derby caught a whiff of the money oozing off of Darcy, to him, at least, and approached him with an offer. While Darcy was never bullied or even picked on, he couldn't deny there was a massive hierarchy within the school that he was dying to get out of. Though in his case, he'd only be joining it, just higher up the hierarchy.

Darcy fought with himself for a good week or so about whether or not he would be joining them. He wasn't prone to impulsive decision-making that only benefited himself, ideally, but once in a blue moon, he would get overwhelmed and just crumble. He ultimately decided to join them and leave Pete behind, leaving an open wound that has been festering since.

RELATIONSHIPS

To explain the complicated ones:

PETE

-Explained prior, the two were very close friends as they both found solace and relatability in each other for being in similar realms when it came to social situations. Darcy took up Derby's offer, regrettably, and abandoned Pete without informing him prior about how he was joining the preps. They now hardly speak unless forced to, though they both yearn for their old friendship.

GORD

-Darcy and Gord are very good friends, Darcy finding Gord amusing and ditto for Gord. The small dot of tension comes from their frequent bickering sessions, which sometimes get a tad personal and lead to tension. They are usually overcome and the two remain close.

LEFTY

-Also explained prior, before Darcy joined the preps, he often ran errands and retrieved items for his teachers to please them. Darcy often kept the shop clean for the shop instructor and spent a lot of his free time there helping out. Him and Lefty became good friends due to this close and prolonged proximity. Darcy continues to maintain friendship despite their rivaling cliques. He also had his first cigarette with Lefty, so that was their bonding experience or something.

DUNCAN

-Darcy and Duncan were also good friends while Duncan was still attending, and Darcy was a wee non-clique boy and would sometimes play Grottos and Gremlins together. Darcy still misses Duncan and often wonders about his whereabouts or why he dropped out. Duncan vaguely remembers him and appreciates the G&G sessions, but is unsure about what he thinks about the Darcy he did know.

(Darcy would also not be neutral towards Gary. He would most likely hate him, I just made these before really thinking out his relationship with Pete and the other two.)

BONUS INFORMATION

Darcy is very passionate when it comes to badminton and is a well-respected player! He spends a lot of his time in tournaments or practicing for said tournaments. Darcy is also sponsored by plenty of large businesses or organizations, including a marine life conservation society (hence, why his uniform looks like that), Harrington Oil, and the company Gord's father owns.

Darcy enjoys crafting and makes a lot of quilts in his spare time, as he's made a quilt for all of the other preps. Whether they use it or not depends on the person. Duncan also taught him how to make pipes, which he has little to no use for now. He still considers it information that he may need someday and keeps it in the front of his mind regardless.

He bonds a lot with the preps and feels surprisingly welcome despite the frequent teasing he receives and greatly enjoys his time with them. He can often be found sparring with Bif, going shopping with Gord, or discussing various hypotheticals with Parker.

INTERACTIONS

YES PLEAAASEEE I LOVE OC INTERACTIONS ILL DRAW OT WRITE THEM WHATEVER ALSO PLZ SEND ME HCS OR ASKS FOR HIM I WANNA TALK ABOUT HIM REALLY BAD

[its-actually-minicika]

Dragon Sickness

Part 2;

Pairing: Bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader;

Warnings: No usage of Y/N, bookcanon Greens, potential spoilers for Fire&Blood (but not really), dubious consent, allusions to sex, to male masturbation and oral from Aemond (female receiving - he just wants to tickle your pickle with his fingers and mouth but yk), slight angst, minor and major character death, vague descriptions of death by asphyxiation;

For the sake of keeping characters as close to canon as I can, the eye that Aemond lost was his right, not his left!

Word Count: 7k+;

Author's Note: Repost because yeah...

Reblogs would be really appreciated, since I believe I was shadowbanned :") ♡

Sorry for taking so long with getting this next part out ♡ I wanted to make sure it's perfect (or as close to perfect as I can get it), because the last thing I desire is to post something I'm not proud of/I wouldn't personally read :")

This gif was made by the love of my life and the moon to my sun - @aemondx here on Tumbr ♡ if you aren't already following her, definitely follow her right now now. I'll wait. The story will wait. She is absolutely amazing, and the sweetest person ever.

I also dedicate this chapter to my literal soulmate @diamantesprincess , who beta-read this whole shit-storm for me, and supported my insane antics ♡

Young girls dream about their wedding day. And women prepare themselves for the humiliation bestowed upon them by the raptures of the night.

Her cheeks flushed with the expectancy that was thrown before her – the avid sting that prickled her skin, flooded her veins and broke her soul. She could feel her smooth-green gown stick to her contorted form. The horrid fires of lashing out already licking at the corners of her downturned mouth.

The Velaryon thus swallowed thickly, whilst flickering her eyes by nigh to each corner of the squaring table. She needn’t glance into the silver plating to ensure what she had known, simply owed to the salacious heat that downed her heart in poisoned terror. How vexing it had been for her to hear the former Queen about – darting to her wedding night, hinting at her lack of purity. How terribly uncertain she’d felt, when Aemond all but abandoned her on that rueful and exerting night.

She’d searched feverishly for his company, trying to converse with him, to allude him to take interest, to inspire him to like her. But her attempts were answered with indifference, with clumsy lines of conversations, which never led her far in musings.

“– Even so, I trust that you understand your duty.”

She couldn’t have been quiet for long. For she felt how her mouth lulled opened, if only to blurt out a passive admission to Alicent’s extended words. Still she felt the decades pass, turning her old, and mean, and cold, as an ample flood of pain engulfed her sparring and incisive heart. The Queen Dowager sighed, either by lack of blitheness or by wry exhaustion, and merely shook her head at the sight of the conflicted bastard.

She supposed she should be grateful – for a private bedding brought across no prying eyes upon her form, upon her skin and womanhood; upon the shame she would soon feel, to spread her legs for the Qybor who slayed her kin. But a private bedding meant she'd have to be alone with him. A private bedding was unsafe, for it meant her maiden blood wouldn't have to be the one staining their rivetting sheets. And Aemond had killed men before, his flesh and blood, innocent spawn – so was there anything that would ensure he wouldn't cut her very throat?

A silent tear obscured her view, and one of Helaena’s beetles boldly flew nearby her plate.

Satin green and oryx white, silky blue and striking violet.

To be born a female was a wright cursed account.

Upon her birth, she belonged to her father. And when he died, she fitted Daemon. She suited to her brother, Jace, to the whims of the New Seven, and very soon to those of Aemond.

When she was young, her Septa was the one to tell her the story of her feeble birth – how she was good and quaint and quiet, how she had not ensued hard labour. How her mother cried when she saw her small and portly face. And how she sighed with half restraint at the notion of her naked sex.

To be born the cursed sex stripped one of their whole autonomy.

Benevolence was to be found within the weakness of a poor female.

‘The girls are easier than the boys,’ The woman nodded as she spoke, ‘They're less rowdy and quick to anger. Easier to marry, too.’

To be born a female meant a deconstructive marriage. Simply something that must happen, not a matter of debate.

To be born a female meant fantasizing about that marriage. Salaciously filling your head with hopeful dreams of charming knights, or handsome princes and comely lords.

To be born a female was underestimated work. Work put up by sons and fathers, whose sole purpose of providing to the girl they had to care for was to find her a good husband.

A future to be predecided, set in stone and judged throughout – all in valour of a missing cock, and a lack of tiny stones.

When Rhaenyra married Daemon, she was happy for her loving mother.

‘I want to be just as beautiful on my wedding day!’ Her voice chirped through the halls of Dragonstone, whilst rotating about the room, chased by an ongoing Jace, ‘We’ll have a pigeon cake the size of a young hatchling, and a venue bigger than that made of the smallfolk of King’s Landing!’

‘Maybe one that smells better, though,’ Jace snickered inside her ear, earning a brisk tickle from his younger sister, ‘But you’re right, my darling sister, it’s better to stay realistic!’

A loud fit of giggles erupted from the waiting children. Rhaenyra only glanced at Daemon, who in turn shook his head, bemused by her swallowing visions.

‘Whatever prompts you to even believe your mother and I will allow such a thing?’ The Rogue Prince graced her with a trumping smirk, as the girl’s face fell to a slouch.

‘I’ll have to get married one day!’ She rebutted her stepfather, ‘With a strong knight in shining armour, or a chivalrous Lord from an important House!’

‘I would be very careful with what I want,’ He mimicked a serious and grieving tone, ‘So far you could only marry Tyland Lannister or Kermit Tully!’

‘There will be yet some time before that happens, sweet girl.’ Rhaenyra grinned at her daughter’s eagerness, pushing down the rotten feeling that gnawed beneath her bludgeon gown. She placed her hand atop her cheek and gingerly grazed the youth’s plumpness with a soft, motherly touch. ‘A couple of years from now on, at best!’ She hummed into her tender caress and opened her mouth to speak again, 'till Jacaerys’ mellow voice cut the base of her new words.

Her eyes widened to the size of two round plates, and the young Velaryon merely scrunched her nose up in dissatisfaction. ‘Kermit wouldn’t be that bad…’ She tried to reason with herself, ‘And his sister, Celia, is very nice! We would get along quite well.’

‘Of course, of course –’ Jace nodded in understanding, before throwing Luke a mischievous look, ‘Or you could always marry Aemond – he’d be quite a match, you know!”

Silence ensued for a while, until all three children broke down in their hysteric fits of laughter.

‘Oh, Gods be good…!’ She murmured lowly, shock and aversion evident on her once impatient face.

She’d found herself someone who loved her, someone whom she could amply trust. A man that’d be reliant for her, in her times of greatest fraught.

When the War of Ravens first ensued, it was he and her small brothers who went to deliver envoys. When Luke died, it was he who mended and arranged the curdling scheme of Blood and Cheese. And when Aemond took a hold of Harrenhal, cruelly burning at their allies’ lands… it was he who gave his life in an attempt to free their folk.

“Gods be good…!” Her voice strained through the musings of her handmaiden, so preoccupied with lacing up her constricting and excessive corset. “Could you go in any tighter?” Her snapping question deterred the young girl to remove her calloused hands from the fine silks that engulfed her. All of the other women who tended to her hair and eyes took a backwards convoluted step and, as if whipped across the face and wholly burnt by dragon fire, they froze up in minute poses – all of them gripping their hands, and looking down in taught submission.

Breathless and submerged in bashness, her reddened lips pressed to a line, as her gaze followed their in suit, falling on the stone below her.

“I’m sorry,” She began with a taut pitch, while expelling one of her brisk and tantalising breaths, “I didn’t mean to shout at you. That was below any level of discretion.”

"W-Would you like us to continue, Your Grace?" One of the older-looking wenches dared to ask the fair Velaryon.

No, she ached to bring herself to say, I'd stay like this, still half-undressed. Unpresentable for him to take.

"Of course," Her meek voice echoed in reply, "You must make haste to get me ready. The wedding is in but an hour."

Tens of dozen of pairs of hands flooded her every sensation with their ceaseless and insistent prodding. The softest of the cluster played with the slicked ends of her charcoal hair, adorning it with a myriad of pins and jewels, grazing her scalp with heavy and relenting hairstyles. Now there was prudence in her tying corset – as if she were a rabid beast who’d sink her claws into their necks, if only she’d feel indisposed by their way of picked-up working.

For the first time since her ladies swarmed into her darkened chamber, the girl’s leer settled on the gown before her. She took in a quick breath through the margins of her teeth, whilst feeling her stomach wail and churn with an unkept overzeal.

Her dress was of a deep set black, which seemed more fitting for a funeral than for a joyous feast precarred soon after by a most imposing wedding. Yet upon a closer look, the brims which laced its puffy bottoms smiled to her in rueful red.

Surprise etched upon her face, and the coy women must have noticed, for they all stopped forthwith again. She brought a hand to the light fabric, and grazed it slowly with her fingers.

She almost hummed in chasmal worry, before fixating her eyes away.

“Apologies, but who told you to bring this dress?” Her voice reverberated with a faint but levelled question, and a retort came back her way.

“The Prince Aemond, Your Grace,” What she assumed was a slight seamstress replied for the whole gathering, “He requested that his vest should also bear your House’s symbols.”

Surprise merged with upheld amusement, until her judgement simmered down to a least lenient of views – since the Blacks were there no more, what point was there for an exorbant gown with any shades of ghastly Green?

No matter his good-hearted message, Aemond hadn’t done it for her. Just like Alicent hadn’t proposed a marriage with her son for her clemented and invested sake.

There was no more point for her to wear his sickly green. There was no reason for the usurpers to display their endless rows of utter power.

Her family was dead. All she knew had gone with them – swallowed wholly by the sea, or by Sunfyre, by Vhagar.

“I see,” Her vocal cords strained with her roughened and perturbed reply, “It’s very beautiful,” She whispered not a heartbeat later, as she turned to the appraised seamstress, “Thank you. You must have worked very hard.”

As everyone resumed their tasks, a trailing truth pierced through her heart – she now had no family left to lead her to the Greater Sept.

His collar fell too tight on him.

He noticed late, as she approached him.

He swallowed thickly once before her, as his burnt brother gripped her hand.

Her softened smile lit up her face, though the disgust within her eyes unveiled her sickly mild facade. A rattled thought surged through his chest, mending with akin distraught. He knew full well she didn’t love him, but at the least, he’d have to try. The subtlety of her rejection stabbed right through his nervous gut, but still the Prince looked down upon her, gracing her with a half-smile.

The ease with which she then returned it relieved the throbbing underneath his leather patch, and as she mouthed him her timid greeting, the man bowed deeply in reply.

“You may now cloak the bride, and bring her under your protection.” The Septon’s voice instructed deeply, snapping both out of their trance.

His calloused fingers unclasped the belts from his broad and heaving shoulders – the cape fell heavily into his hands, yet Aemond still approached his Lady, and placed the Targaryen embroidered mantle atop her tense and fragile shoulders.

Brown eyes clashed with an unnerving lilac – both bride and groom sucked in a breath, and yet refused to look away.

The silence of the Sept was deadly, and as Aemond closed his eye, allowing his relentless thoughts to slip into a hurried prayer, he swore that every witness to their union would hear the keen beats of his heart.

The High Septon clasped his wrinkled hands together, drawing a faint and muffled noise which reverberated through the clearing – signalling to the lost children to place their hands into the other’s.

His Lady was the first to reach him. Shyly she grazed his palm with the smooth padding of her index finger, flattering an anxious probe which distilled his wilted heart, and brought heat into his cheeks.

Her small diversion urged him to press back into her – with a doubting and reserved caress made with his thicker middle finger.

The man bit into his inner cheek, as he aligned his palm to hers, and waited patiently for the Septon to bind their hands with the white linen.

“In sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity.”

Her thumb gently caressed his own in an attempt to soothe his breaths. Though her smile had broadened yet, her eyebrows twisted to a brazen furrow. The old man hummed with unturned patience, and he nodded at their leisured and unhurried movements.

“Look upon each other and say the words.”

His chest tightened with unruly pride, as her cheeks flushed with a deep colour, which grew to match the lacings of her fitted cobbler – both took a moment to compose themselves, before Aemond’s voice filled the room with the silk-smooth baritone of his levelled and protruding tone.

“Father, Smith, Warrior,” His lone orb swirled with both uncertainty and desire, as her own voice ushered him suit, “Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.”

Her chest heaved with a weighty exhale, and her pushed bosom shifted in her dainty dress. Abashed by his sexual intrusion, Aemond focused his left eye on the shape of her inviting lips.

Though they said the words in unison, only her better half beset his ears, “I am his, and he is mine.”

“From this day, until the end of my days,” The Targaryen hushed in return.

Thousand of cheers erupted in the Great Sept, and Aegon even whistled lowly, but nought of the crowd’s boastful words engrained themselves into his mind.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

His mouth pressed hungrily against her own, with a force and desperation that dispersed her every hope for a chaste, intimate peck. The shape of his lips moulded against her with an ease that left her wanting – wanting for it to end, for him to stop, for him to keep going.

His scent invaded her diluted senses, and flashes of her brothers’ faces danced across her hazy view. And just as Aemond was about to deepen and take his uncouth ministrations further, the greying Septon interjected with a subtle but alluding cough.

Despite the fact that he refused to speak to her since the incursive night of their engagement, the palpable need and excitement that seemingly had gathered in him burst for all high lords and petty maidens to see. Coveting whispers reached the girl’s reddened ears – each muttered truth more beguiling than the last.

‘A Kinslayer and a bastard… what an ill match for the grandeur of the Great Sept.’

With her mouth slightly agape and her breath still somewhat staggered, the former Velaryon avoided his stare, with an adamant and willful steer.

Her own eyes began to water. And the aching sadness that curled into her vrying soul muted out any reminder of the crowd’s elated boasts.

What had happened was now irreversible; and the Greens would host a banquet in honour of the newlyweds. Goblets would drown her violent sorrows, food would fill them like fattened-up pigs for cutting.

Aemond would breach her with his cock if he felt disposed to do it. Then he might smother her face, or cut her throat with the same dagger that he used on her late brother.

For why else would he deny a prim and proper bedding ceremony?

Though her eyes still looked at him, and a smile still spurred her lips, the girl swallowed down a prayer.

Perhaps he had grown to like her. She’d been good to him in those past weeks.

The High Septon yelled over the cheering crowd, cutting down each thought that breached through her weary and misguided mind.

“Let it be known that they are now one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder!”

Then cursed be she, in the light of the Seven.

The dizzying nature of the fifth waltz of the night left everyone in the Great Hall drained and panting – fully taken by the mistifying anticipation caused by the encapsulating ardour of Prince Aemond’s wedding reception. Roaring applauses erupted from the few women seated at the high tables – Aegon’s eyes followed the wanton skirts of the lowborn maidens, and even Helaena disregarded her fattened caterpillar to grace the crowd with her absent-minded stare.

At the centre of the King’s table stood the Court’s styled “star-crossed lovers”, each seemingly preoccupied with avoiding any further dancing at any and all occuring costs.

The girl’s fingers traced over the rim of the wine goblet, glancing from time to time at her newly acquired husband, who seemed hammered in his seat and not at all wanting for chatter. The dim lighting of the candled room sprawled its shadows all across his tired features, which loomed all the more sharp and perusing with each notion of a passing hour. His lack of joyful disposition was clear and evident for all to see – for even his contented mother had chastised him under her breath.

Alas, any notion of stability had at large been long repressed, and not even her able chirping managed to pry at her son’s attention.

As her eyes trailed lower yet, over the arch of his broad chest, and the poignant veins of his clenched fist, the Targaryen gasped at the obvious arousal restrained in his black leather pants. Her face turned promptly to the side, before anyone’s conviction should follow her indiscreet trail.

Another smile graced her red lips, as a very drunkened Lord tripped across her narrow view. He approached her with bemusing boldness, borne out of believed renown, and introduced himself as Quince Webber: a lower lord within the Reach, ‘right across the Arbour seat’. His puffy face was basked in red, an indication of his mind’s plied state – and as he blabbered on his woven lapses on what wedded life should be, the Lady bowed her head with grace, thus managing to stop his spiel.

He slurred over his predicted wordings in a heavy and relentless breath, but still managed to congratulate the twain for their well-thought-out alliance.

“Thank you, my Lord, I am indeed very lucky.” Her cheeks hurt from all the smiling, but still she forced herself to laugh, “Aemond has been very kind to me.” She turned to face his stare, abashed, and allowed her hand to touch him. The charcoal leather of his broidered vest burnt her at the faintest touch, and the girl had to stifle a gasp at the arid heat which charred her palm.

“He has, he has!” The lord of Coldmoat agreed well-pleased. A wolfish grin spread across his droopy face, pulling both his plump cheeks higher. An impish laugh beleft his lips, as he took a swing of liquor from a nearby empty glass.

The corner of her smiling eye darted back to that of Aemond, who merely glanced through the drunk lord with a horriedly vexated look.

“Although,” He teased them with a slurred hic, “I can’t say he’ll be nice to you when the bedding ceremony will ensue!”

Wholeheartedly amused at his inappropriate and shrivelled joke, the old man began to laugh, much to Aemond’s disarray.

His fists came into contact with the sprawled-out wooden table, shaking every cutlery which remained scattered across it. The lively whispering of the Great Hall ceased with his vicious display, and even his contented brother jerked his shoulders in dismay.

“Aemond,” Alicent spat out his name, as her face turned cold and wary. “Perhaps it’s time you two retire.”

A restless snarl etched from his throat, and he looked ready to pounce – were it not for the soft hand that touched him, and the sanity utter of her voice, which managed to somewhat reground him, and contort poor Webber’s choice.

But as cruel fate would weave and have it, another end would spend their night.

“Aemond,” His Lady tried to coax him in, “Let’s listen to your mother… please?” Her fevered eyes adamantly searched for his, until a strange yearning and passion registered on his reluctant face. His hand gripped hers in pure devotion, and his large thumb ran over her flaring knuckles, as she'd done so many times before for him.

The lord’s lost face painted over with uncouth excitement, and he turned his back around, almost hitting Daeron’s face.

“It’s time for the bedding ceremony!” He announced the crowd quite loudly, and tens of voices of plastered men rose with every passing second. Some of them swarmed close to the couple, some tried to pick the girl from her leering resting place. Most barely launched up their feet, struggling to uphold their balance.

“There will be no bedding ceremony tonight.” Aemond’s dark and frigid voice thundered through the cluttered hall. Women sighed in great relief, while the men and boys began to bicker.

“It’s tradition!”

“I’ve been told specifically that it would take place.”

“Such stupidity!”

“I bet Renly six gold dragons that –”

“The King long announced there would be none.” Otto’s otherwise calm voice resounded with a harshened tone.

“Has he now?” A slurring lord took three wide steps in the direction of the pressured lady. Her whole face morphed into preleened discomfort, as she placed both her hands upfront. “Oh, don’t you even think about it…!” She warned him with a throaty hiss, but before his hand could graze her, Aemond grabbed his arching fists.

When his nervous gaze settled on his face, he smiled.

The lord clawed at his darkened neck, for Aemond forced him in a kneeling stance, and wrapped his hands around his throat. The timber in his chilling voice rained affront with his obduring malice, sending a shiver down the bent spines of the mere on-watchers, “You wish to gaze upon my wife tonight, Lord Ashford?” The callous ends of his slim digits dug into his purple skin, “You want to see her naked form, and compare her dripping sex to your own wife’s loosened cunny?”

The older man opened his mouth – but the pressure on his wielded neck impedimented his speaking manner and, much like a fish that’d been hoisted out of water, he could barely form a word.

“N…No-n-no – I’m s-s-”

“You’re sorry?” His eyebrows rose in feigned surprise. His wails of anguish pierced his heart – and yet his grip didn't uncurl. “You’re sorry now, are you?”

“Aemond, that is enough!” Alicent’s chastising shouts failed to break his unsound trance. Among the mistifying flock of ladies, the Velaryon stood high, but frozen. Her parlous specks of deep brown eyes bore into the shocking scene, as her own transfigured hand prodded at her covered neck.

"You've heard, perhaps, what happened with little Luke Strong, the bastard.” Her own eyes widened at his cruel retorts, and her deft fist grabbed at her skirts. Despite it being aimed to scare the stupid and unbashful lord, Aemond’s dicey did nought else but expose her to the whole crowd whole.

The heated blade of loss and ire impaled her through her aching chest, cutting both her breath and temper and deterring her to simply shake.

“– I'll gouge your eyes out and present them as a wedding gift to my wife."

Little Luke. Jace. Rhaenyra. Daemon.

Joff. Rhaenys. Corlys. Allyn.

Baela. Rhaena. Viserys. Aegon.

“I-I’m b– begging you–”

Little Luke. Jace. Rhaenyra. Daemon –

“Then beg. Beg my wife for her forgiveness.”

Joff. Rhaenys. Corlys. Allyn –

“My L– My Lady, p-please…!”

Baela. Rhaena. Viserys. Aegon.

Mother, mother, mother, mother –

“Please, Aemond, stop! Just stop!” Her own voice screeched into the balling clearing, as the sound of breaking bones and the smell of copper blood menged right through her very veins. “Stop. It’s enough. It’s alright. I’m alright. Please–”

Her panicked breathing flooded her ears. Her lack of presence drowned her in.

Her husband threw her an affrighted look, as he instantly let go of the man’s entwisted neck.

He crawled closer to his own wife’s feet. His piqued-up breathing staggered for a brief momentum.

For two or three seconds they waited.

And then quietness enwrapped the Realm.

Her honeyed voice had reached his ears.

"We're man and wife now, you and I.” She began with a faint murmur, and a small smile on her lips, “We must start talking to each other. Eventually, I mean."

She spoke to him in utter earnest, despite her voice’s nervous edge.

Alas he must not have replied to her, for her body shifted in her narrow seat, ducking away from him in recluded and uptight tension. “I’d like there to be no secrets between us – I’d like for us to tell each other whatever happens to be on our mind.”

The alluring scent of her dark hair, the creamy skin of her bare shoulders…

His breathing turned close to erratic, as he morphed his hands to fists. But two waltzes he had danced with her, before he felt his breeches tighten, bringing forth his quaint undoing.

He would have stayed in bitter silence, focused on the passing hours – were it not for the unlucky words that the brittle lord had uttered.

Oh, and how she looked into his eye; full of shock and brittle terror.

She must have been scared of him. For she was shaking like a leaf.

The walk to their marital chamber loomed with ever-pressing silence.

If only he could read her thoughts – then he might just mend his error.

“I rather liked the pigeon pie.” Her voice came out as weak and gruff, “Though it was far too big for those at present.”

When his answer wouldn’t beckon, the Lady turned and closed her eyes. She snapped her head in his direction, faltering her present smile. “I think that what you did was very chivalrous and brave, my Prince.”

The corner of his left eye widened, as her words registered in. The margins of her flimsy skirts kissed the ground atop her form – the swish and flicker of the candles remained the only source of noise.

The corners of his mouth bent slightly, at her ludicrous but fair assertion. Whether he had meant to thank her, or kiss her on that very spot, the Prince failed to puzzle out. Though his step halted in place, and his face turned briskly to her.

“Aemond,” He sighed, reluctant, whilst awaiting for her change of heart, “You said it yourself, we’re man and wife. You should start calling me Aemond.”

Her daring eyes looked up right through him, dissolving to a kindred stare. “Then you should also use my name… Aemond.” She uttered with a playful tone, testing his name upon her lips. “Though I… much prefer it when you call me ‘wife’.”

His reply was fast, forthright, “I’ll call you whatever you wish.”

“Then…” She began with a weak mutter, allowing her hair to hide her face, “No, forgive me, never mind.”

“Tell me,” He commanded with grave urgency.

Tell me of anything and I will make it yours.

“Mayhaps,” His Lady paused a while again, “You’d agree to call me your ‘dear wife’?”

His cock twitched inside his pants. The blood that pigmented his face descended lower in its lax pursuit.

All that you need do is ask.

“Anything you want,” His voice rumbled in a breathless timber before he could stop himself, “Dear wife.”

She must have thanked him with a smile again. All she did those days was smile.

She smiled when that low lord approached her. She smiled at her engagement feast. She smiled when Aemond took her dancing.

“I trust,” Alicent had swallowed deeply, “That your mother already taught you what’ll occur after the wedding.”

Better said during the bedding. When she’d be forced to spread her legs for the one man who’d damned them all.

She smiled when Aegon named her bastard. She smiled at the mention of her sweet dead brother.

She hummed as she touched her fingers, rotating her golden rings.

“What of Aly Blackwood?” Her eyes pried at her heavy conscience, “You said that if I marry Aemond, you’d think of a way to release her and make peace with Benjicot’s House.”

–

Her trail of thought was pulled before her, like a feeble dream which she won't reach.

The handle of a leaden door was yanked, pulsing the quaint hall with clatter, and basking her with a warm light.

“We’re here.”

Though wailing dread flooded her senses, her voice came out in slight bemusement.

“It isn’t furnished.”

“I wanted you to have a say.” The depthness of his mellow tune carried out his crass remark, “I didn’t know how many dresses you’d have.”

The notion of her moving in, of sleeping side by side with him, of sharing a bed and a mattress and a bath with him – it hadn’t failed to make her snort.

Hidden from his plane of sight, she allowed a distant scowl to break in her pretty features.

She wanted to scream and shout. To lash out in grave disconcern the moment his revolting hands came in contact with her lower back, urging her to step inside. She wanted to laugh at him – at the sight of his scarred face, his forceful probe and lack of honour.

“You’re so thoughtful, Aemond. Thank you.”

A grave unease surged in her gut. Pure fright prickled at the apex of her thighs. Her once loose dress seemed to constrict her form from running – from hitting him over the head and at last make her escape.

A pained sigh escaped his lips – the One-Eyed Prince who killed her family.

The Kinslayer. The Trident’s Terror. The Prince Protector of the Realm.

Almost as if he could sense her worry, the lithe Targaryen beckoned her in.

There’d been a moment when he only looked at her, bearing holes into her face and the front lobe of her skull, as his thick brows twisted slightly, jarring in misguided silence. Her jaw clenched involuntarily, as his face hithered in closer. She closed her eyes for two, three seconds, before she opened them again.

The lack of ease with which he gawped at her would have dearly made her laugh. The great and feared Aemond Targaryen, so incursed, taken aback.

He exhaled deeply in connived frustration, and simply took a few steps back. A rumbled hum of welting havoc trailed behind his high-arched lips, and a simple look of ardour was engraved on his sharp face.

The hands which had been snaked around her let her go within an instant, and as a curse sprung from his throat, the man found refuge and retreat towards the blazing fireplace. The girl followed his lenient steps, which faltered near the goatskin armchair.

His hands moved in accord with stress. Stiffly he had poured himself a hefty glass of liquid courage – swallowing it down with haste, and indifference towards the spectacle that he made with his demeanour.

His hands were shaking. His gulps of dark and bitter wine accentuated with every guise of stolen looks he dared to throw and hatch her way. At one point through his fretful jitter, the Prince snapped with a scorned hiss.

"Do you reckon you need help with your black dress, my dearest wife?” The rattled edge within his voice echoed through the room's long walls – his tone was mystified by pain, by torturous need, and want, and lust.

"N-No, my love, that I do not." She tried with shear to reach her lacings, as her mouth quirked with a smile. The desolation in her orbs spun the man to heave a sigh – his wobbled hand to reach his collar, and pull at it with forced renown.

Multitudes of scattered feelings reveled on her softened face – pain and fear, disgust and anger, lack of confidence and broad distress.

Inch by inch she thus revealed patches of her creamy skin. Feeling all her fingers stiffen with perturbed stilling discomfort, shame and angst and staid mistrust.

Although her corset was now loosened, the source of air within her lungs remained scarce and all the same.

She maintained his carnal stare, watching how his one eye darkened, turning to an opaque black. His lips pressed into a line, his furrowed brows deepened his stare – he gulped another hoist of wine and swallowed thickly at her chaffing stare. His adam's apple bobbed up and down in repressed bewilderment and apt surrender. His weary mind surged with a vast contrast of thoughts, each one more torturous and sparse than the mentioned fleeting latter.

He felt utterly inadequate.

He'd touched and fucked women before – handmaidens that caught his eye, wenches that offered their heat, servant girls who lured him in.

But none had managed to prepare him for the unrelieved pressure of her. Of the one woman he loved, of the one he wanted most.

She'd been kind to him when they were children – and remained polite throughout when he dared to rain his anger on his ludicrous half-sister.

He regretted every hostile instance where he hurt her with his words. And every bite full of prone venom, that he threw her brothers' way.

He regretted how he acted, when he killed the raucous lord. How he taunted him with perverse pleasure, how he named Luke's shocking perish right across from his sweet wife – knowing somewhere all too well that she'd take offence to it.

His face felt numb, his limbs felt heavy. He wanted to denude her slowly, to prode at the extended nature of her smooth and nuanced skin. To devote himself to her fair pleasure, to worship the slickness of her womanhood with a reverence and love perturbed.

He longed to lay his masculinity at the altar of her maidenhood, get on his knees and devout his being to making her peak with him – on his tongue, on his slim fingers, on his chin, or on his face.

He’d read the ways to get a cunt wet – it would take no less good skill and incredible amounts of patience; but for her, he’d gladly wait, and gently stretch her virgin hole, with the aid of his firm touch and the pulsing of his deepened voice.

He closed his eye in a small prayer, as he begged his Gods for guidance – to be able to bring her to the heightened cliffs of sinful rapture, to be able to prove himself as a man fit for her needs.

To make her love him in return, perhaps, and make her see his side of things.

As he remained hammered in place, trying his hardest to regain control over his trembled conscious and his indulgent thoughts, the man failed to notice how his Lady made impressive progress into her methodical and empty musings.

Her head hung low as she undid the lacings of her fitted garment. Her eyes were cast in shadowed doubt and in utter lack of certainty – her breathing came as fast and laboured, and her hands with-held a tremor with every new poignant display of another patch of skin.

Unbeknownst even to her, hot tears of merciless aversion rolled off her rosy cheeks, landing on her petticoat and the cold stone ground below them.

The Prince sucked a jarring breath, as she turned to face the bed with a heartbreaking and crushed compliance. Her softened eyes peered at his form, and a forceful smile unfurled along the corners of her swollen lips.

His expression must have tightened, and his form recoil in slightly – for her hazy eyes enwrapped him, and her shapely brow rose up.

“Aemond…?” She tried to lace her voice with sweetness, “Do you–” The latter words died on her lips, and she remained with her mouth parted, until her thoughts surged loudly clear.

“Should I… d-do you want me to sit in any way?”

The hoarseness in her tender voice made the man pale in disgrace.

“You’re scared of me.” He long admitted, with a rough and neutral tone.

Aemond’s feet carried him slowly, towards the place in which she stood. When his hand came to rest over her wet cheek, she stiffened up and almost winced.

“Why are you so afraid of me?” The desperation in his utter broke the silence of their spacious room, “I would never hurt you. I would sooner die than see you in pain.”

Realisation settled in, and her lost face morphed with awareness. She brought her palm smooth on his own, and searched despairingly to entwine their hands together. When she opened her mouth to speak, she blinked away her forming tears.

“No, my P– Aemond. I could never be afraid of you.”

“Yet here you stand,” He murmured weakly, “Half-naked before me, and shaking.”

“The chamber just feels very cold.” His wife hung onto the excuse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – I swear to you that I do want this –”

“I will not bed you.” He hummed as he wiped off her tears – a soft and feeble grazing led about by the callous ends of his smooth pads.

Her face breached forward with mistrust, as her weary mouth lulled open, “W-What? No, Aemond, believe me, I–”

“I will not bed you,” The Prince repeated to her gently, “Not until you ask me to.”

A disgruntled and affronted sigh left the high arch of his lips, yet an understanding look rained across his lustful stare. The one hand which hung loosely by his side trailed a slow path to her jolting shoulder. He swallowed thickly before speaking, pushing down his burning desire.

"Ziry iksos ao qilōni lurksas issa kesīr." The meek admission in High Valyrian made her relax into his touch, "Nyke jāhor daor gaomagon mirros bona mazverdagon ao zūgagon."

The Prince staggered with a shaky breath, whilst looking her into the eye. "Skoro syt kostagon ao ūndegon bona?"

Although she tried so hard to speak, not a word etched from her throat. She nodded in undisplayed wonder, and gripped her husband by the shirt.

He took her balling fists in his, and kissed atop the even skin.

Thoughts strengthened with affirmed abhorrence steered clear through her befuddled mind – there may be hope to fix the error that she so tactlessly set off that night.

And yet before she could place Aemond’s hands down the shape of her small back, the Prince grabbed his sharpened knife, and merely nicked his open palm.

Droplets of deep-crimson liquid seeped into the whitened sheets, and the girl remained upright and frozen, as she watched him clean his blade and rummage through his modest cupboard for a piece of airy cloth.

With one hand he gripped the footboard – and began to firmly shove it into the stone wall up ahead.

The avid creaking of the bed turned into a pleased refrain. One not too fast, but not too slow, which carried on for a few minutes.

Outside their petulant and guarded door, whistles of men and cheers from women crassly seeped into their ears. Though most were muffled down by the sensitive and leal guards, some managed to blurt out half-enthused encouragements upon their midnight escapades.

A flow of compliments descended upon Aemond’s lasting pace – and some of the more improper ladies even dared to coo at her.

“It’ll feel better once you give it time, sweetling!”

“You simply must confine in us what it was like to ride a dragon!”

How utterly humiliating.

Like all bad things within the world, their idle and unseemly chatter ceased after a little while. Aemond sighed and stopped his motions, while granting her a knowing look.

“I’ll remain here for mere more moments. Then I’ll leave you for the night.”

‘N-No!” Her eyes widened in mistrust, as she gnawed her bottom lip. Almost too soon for her own well liking, she’d begged incessantly for him to stay. “Please remain near me, sweet husband… I so long to sleep by you.”

When her words seemed to elude him, she reached for his wounded hand, giving it a slight caress. She pressed her lips atop his cut, and devotedly looked up at him.

“Ao vestretan bona nyke udrāzma ao kesīr. Nyke lurksas bona ao umbagon issa rūsīr."

Aemond drew in a sharp breath, and merely settled on the bed.

“As you wish, my darling wife.”

Translations:

"Qybor" = uncle - specifically, from the mother's side;

"Ziry iksos ao qilōni lurksas issa kesīr. Nyke jāhor daor gaomagon mirros bona mazverdagon ao zūgagon. Skoro syt kostagon ao ūndegon bona?" = 'Tis you who commands me here. I will not do anything that leaves you frightened. Why can’t you see that?

“Ao vestretan bona nyke udrāzma ao kesīr. Nyke lurksas bona ao umbagon issa rūsīr." = You said that I command you here. I order that you stay with me.

[miss-anachronism]

I posted something yesterday throwing my hat into the ring of Merlin and Valen relationships, and people seemed to like it! These guys are best buds to me, im glad yall see it too. It inspired me to write a little drabble, so here ya go <3 this is Valen and my (fem) Merlin, so it gets kinda specific at parts lol

…

It’s been a long day.

And as much as Valen wishes it were the easier type of long day: boring and uneventful, where he has to drag himself from task to task; it was quite the opposite. Exhilarating, exhausting, and deadly; now he was sinking into a sofa chair in the Mystical house, nursing a spiked drink and a sprained ankle.

It wasn’t even a mishap- he’d launched the attack perfectly, but that godforsaken golem had grabbed his leg at the last moment and slammed him back down into the ground. Lucius said he was lucky to have avoided a concussion. But what does Lucius know, anyway.

All this to say, the entire ordeal has left him grumpy and secluded. He’s tucked into the library, where the din of the bar can’t touch his slowly receding headache. It’s lovely in here, quiet and serene, fresh air drifting through the large open windows on the south wall. The smell of old books mingles nicely with the outside breeze, stopping just shy of being overwhelming. He would have never thought himself a library person; the one in Holistone was lackluster. But Merlin, as she often did, had flipped his conceptions upside down, and provided Valen one of his favourite spaces in her impressive library.

It’s a little ridiculous to expect privacy and solitude from a house that isn’t your own, especially one housing at least five others, but Valen still finds his every muscle tensing when he hears the library door open and close with a soft click.

He exhales slowly through his teeth, trying not to make his disappointment too obvious. He sends his farewells to his peaceful rest, and a quick prayer that whomever has entered isn’t in a talkative mood. He really doesn’t feel up to playing up the charm.

The soft pattering on the floor and the long exhale that come from behind him, however, chases those fears away. The momentary panic slips from Valen’s body, and he glances to the side, grinning when a green, eerie eye catches his gaze.

Merlin grins back at him, though she looks just as tired as he feels. “Hey, sorry. I know you’re hurt, but it’s winding down out there, and I wanted to do some research before I turn in. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Valen chuckles, “It’s your home.”

“Well, yes, but you’re my guest. And if you want me to shut up and leave you alone, say the word and I’ll be gone, no harm no foul.”

“It’s alright, Merlin,” he confirms, slightly surprised that he doesn’t even need to lie, “your company is appreciated.”

She grins at him and sets her own drink down on the small coffee table, and pulls another chair up. “Thanks, Val. I’ll keep it down, promise.”

She’s true to her word, shuffling through a few eclectically stacked books around the floor of the library before settling with three in hand. She puts the biggest one between them, and opens it up to reveal a collection of beautiful woodcuts, depicting various temples across the globe.

Valen lets out a low whistle and leans in, watching as she flips through a few illustrations, and then spins the book around to show him a full two-page print. It takes him a moment to recognize.

“The Moon Temple?”

Merlin nods, her eyes never leaving the paper. “Back in its heyday. We were talking about it, and Dolly mentioned that I should have an old book of prints in here somewhere. I’m lucky I found it so quickly.”

“How old is this book?”

“Four hundred years, give or take.”

Valen half gasps and half laughs, staring at the book in wonder. He’s shocked Merlin even has the balls to touch the thing, let alone open it.

“I can’t believe you just have ancient scripture lying around.”

“Hey, this is far from ancient,” she teases, glancing up to wrinkle her nose at him.

“You’re right, you’re right. It doesnt hold a candle to the oldest artifact in this room: you.”

Merlin sticks her tongue out at him, and Valen returns in kind, before they both return to the book.

The Moon God had been dead for a thousand years or so before this print was made, so the Temple isn’t exactly in perfect condition. Still, it’s a far cry from the decrepit ruins that it’s in today. Beautiful pillars surrounding the pouring, majestic fountains, each flaw and imperfection dutifully recorded… Valen finds himself being drawn in by the skilled execution of the print itself, scanning over the evenly spaces hatching and intricate detailing in the stonework, the water, the attention to values… it’s a beautiful recreation. Valen can even make out the carvings on the pillars themselves.

There’s a little blurb of writing at the bottom of the page, in a language Valen can’t identify. He reaches out to tap at it, stopping just shy of actually touching the book.

“Can you read this?”

Merlin hums in assent. Instead of flipping the book back around to face herself, she stands and moves over to Valen’s side of the table, kneeling next to his chair.

“It’s not much. ‘The Moon Temple, for the greatness and majesty of Nakalig the many-faced…. Cast a moonstone into the divine spring… a chance for divine lunar enlightenment…’ yeah, we know all this already.”

“It’s still interesting,” Valen contests, watching as Merlins finger drifts over the words. “You’ll have to teach me how to read this.”

Merlin scrunches her nose again. “The language is pretty dead, Val. I think you’ll only find Celestials who speak it fluently, nowadays.”

“So? If it’s spoken by Celestials, I’m sure it’s gorgeous. And mysterious. All the more reason to learn it.”

Merlin scoffs. “If you received a love letter written in the old, dead language, would you actually go on a real life date with the sender?”

“A date? I’d bed them on the spot,” Valen jokes, and Merlin throws her head back and cackles.

“Gross, ugh.” She sneers, giggling. Valen grins.

“Thousands of years old, and you still have the humour of a teenager.”

“Shut up,” she huffs, lightly punching him in the shoulder, only for her eye to immediately widen in concern.

“Ah, shit, that didn’t hurt did it? You’re hurt, I shouldn’t be jostling you around.”

“Merlin, babe, do you really think you can push me around?”

“You underestimate me! I could totally beat you up.”

“Mhmm,” Valen chuckles, taking another sip of his drink. Merlin gives him a wry smile.

“Seriously, though, you okay?”

Valen pauses a moment, taking stock of himself. Yes, his ankle still aches, but the spinning pain in his head has thankfully receded. The exhaustion still runs deep in his bones, however; he thinks if Merlin asked him to stand up, he’s simply collapse.

“I’m alright, all things considered,” he settles on, “but tired. Exhausted.”

“Hey, bright idea here! Maybe you should go to bed!”

“A genius, you are.”

“They don’t call me Merlin for nothin’.”

He chuckles. “It’s nice here. I don’t get much time to relax. And the sun’s only just setting,” he waves a hand towards the window, bathed in pinks and oranges, “let me have an hour, at least.”

“Fine,” Merlin conceded, resting her head on the arm of his chair. Dutifully, Valen proceeds to use her head as an armrest. She huffs in amusement.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Merlin lazily flipping through the book, pausing every time Valen leans closer to inspect a print. Eventually, she complains about her neck, and Valen lets up to allow her a slightly more comfortable position.

“I don’t know how to teach languages,” Merlin says suddenly, startling Valen out of his concentration, “but I think, with Hammie’s help, I could teach you a couple phrases and see where it goes from there?”

Valen blinks in surprise. “You don’t have to do that, Merlin.”

She shrugs. “I want to. Gives me something to do. If you want to, of course.”

Valen pauses, thinks it over, takes another long sip of his drink.

“…sure. We’ll see where it goes.”

Merlin nods, and flips the book closed.

“but if I’m a bullshit student, you can’t be mad at me.”

“I’ll never believe you are,” Merlin sniffs, scooping the book up and standing with a grunt. “Deep down, you’re a nerd like the rest of us, Mr. Playboy Solitaire.”

[nevess]

[ i love thee with a love that shall not die, till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old. ] - William Shakespeare

🌱… description: You and Anakin are stargazing and he can’t stop looking at your beautiful face.

🍵 … warnings: none, more Anakin fluff :p

🧳 … character/s: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

☕️ … word count: 760 words ; | date: October 3rd, 2023

🗞️ back to the main menu

a/n: still just making anakin x reader fluff cuz tumblr needs it. :) Hope you enjoy it! <3 Disclaimer!!! i didn’t read it after finishing, so i apologize for any typos :p In other news, im looking for beta readerssss here's the post!

The moon hung low on the horizon, casting a silvery glow across the quiet hilltop. Anakin Skywalker and you had returned from your respective missions, weary from the battles and conflicts that seemed to define the Clone Wars. Tonight, you both sought solace in the serenity of the night sky.

Laying on a blanket beneath a tapestry of stars, you gazed up at the twinkling constellations, captivated by the beauty of the cosmos. The galaxy seemed vast and endless, a stark contrast to the turmoil you faced on a daily basis.

Anakin's eyes, however, weren't on the stars above; they were fixed on you. He watched you in awe, his heart swelling with a deep, unspoken love. Your profile was illuminated by the soft moonlight, casting a gentle glow on your features, and in that moment, you were the most beautiful thing in the universe to him.

Lost in his thoughts, he finally broke the silence, his voice soft and filled with admiration. "You know, Y/N, I've seen countless stars in my lifetime, but none shine as brightly as you do."

You turned your head to meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his intense blue ones. His words caught you off guard, and a gentle blush colored your cheeks. "Anakin," you replied, your voice tender, "you have a way of making every moment feel extraordinary."

He reached out and gently traced a finger along your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I can't help it," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're the most incredible thing I've ever known."

Your heart swelled with emotion at his words, and you couldn't help but smile. Anakin's charm and intensity had always drawn you in, and tonight, beneath the starlit canvas of the galaxy, you felt a deep connection that transcended words.

As the night wore on, the two of you shared stories of your missions and the challenges you faced, finding solace in each other's understanding and support. Anakin's laughter echoed through the quiet hillside as he recounted a particularly amusing encounter with a droid army, and you couldn't help but join in.

The moments of levity were precious, a reminder that despite the weight of their responsibilities as Jedi and soldiers, you were still able to find joy in each other's company. Under the vast expanse of the night sky, it felt like the galaxy had granted you a brief respite from its turmoil.

As the hours passed, Anakin's gaze never wavered from you. He admired the way your eyes lit up with enthusiasm when you spoke about your passion for diplomacy and negotiation, and how your determination shone through when discussing your duties as a Jedi. To him, you were a beacon of hope and inspiration, a force of nature he couldn't resist and wasn’t going to.

At some point, you both lay down, side by side, your fingers intertwined as you continued to stargaze. The conversation gave way to comfortable silence, a shared appreciation for the quietude of the night.

Anakin broke the silence once more, his voice a soft whisper. "Y/N, I know we face so much uncertainty and danger every day, but the terrible agony im in when you are not near goes away as soon as my eyes see you. In the horrors of what we may or may not do in batter… when i’m with you anything is possible. I love you."

You turned to him, your eyes locking onto his, and the world seemed to fade away. You were mesmerized for his way with words, and how he would always know how to make you feel loved and appreciated. "Anakin," you replied as you look at him with all the love in the world, your voice filled with sincerity, "I love you too, more than words can express." You smiled as your thoughts gathered around one very specific… You can’t believe you are so lucky as to have him as a partner.

In that moment, beneath the starry tapestry of the universe, your love felt like a force of its own, unyielding and eternal. Together, you found strength, love, and hope under the stars, and for as long as you gazed upon them, you knew that no matter the challenges ahead, you would face them together.

© Nevess 2023. My original posts are not allowed to be edited, translated and/or re-uploaded on another account or platform without my permission, nevertheless, re-blogs are accepted and very appreciated.

[hughiecampbelle]

Succession Preference: Having a S/O With a Kid

A/N: I made the kids all different ages, from infancy to teenage, just to make it a little more interesting! I hope you like it, my love! Thank you for requesting! Feedback is appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Connor is delighted to know that you have a child. He practically raised his siblings, being their big brother is the most important job of his life. He takes care of people. He doesn't know that much about babies, but he's an eager learner. He never wants another child in the world to feel like he has ever felt, to he loved so little for doing nothing wrong, for being born. He may or may not baby proof the entire house despite the fact that all your baby can do is maybe roll on their back they're so young. Despite him being a Roy, you're not afraid to leave them with him. He loves their little baby noises, especially their laugh. He can't get enough of their overjoyed squeal. You find Connor on the couch, warning you to be quiet. The baby's been asleep on him for hours, and he'd rather let his whole body go numb than dare wake them. He loves them like he loves you.

Kendall had two kids of his own, though you've seen from experience that he's not the most hands on father. Still, he tries to make an effort with yours, like he does his. He plays with them and their toys, whatever they're obsessed with at the moment: dinosaurs, cars, dolls, art, etc. You love to watch them bond, even if he's overthinking everything completely, like he did with his own. Kendall is so sure he's doing something wrong, that he'll ruin them the same way his father ruined him. You have to remind him a lot that he'd nothing like his father, that your child adores him. They call him Kenny and always draw pictures of him on the moon, with dinosaurs, even once as a princess. He doesn't admit it, but he's got every single one hanging on his fridge, next to his own kids old artwork. You both come with your kids, no exceptions. You wouldn't be you without them, too.

Shiv only ever dealt with teenagers when she was a teen herself and those brats were her brothers. Despite the mask she wears of cool confidence, she is actually very worried about making a good first impression on them. She loves you so much, like she's never loved anyone. She knew you had a kid going into it, but she never expected it to be serious enough for her to meet them. She changes her outfit four times. In the end, they think she's okay. That's about the best reaction either of you were hoping for. They're going through a bit of a phase atm, but they secretly think she's cool. She makes a lot of jokes to get them to laugh and enjoy her sarcasm. You tell her time and time again that they really do like her company, they're just a teenager. They're not known for showing too much interest in anything that isn't their friends and phones.

Roman has no idea what to do with your toddler. He doesn't understand why you cut up their grapes or why they enjoy stupid tv shows or why they can only wear one sock at a time, but he makes an effort in his own way. He watches those shows with them and plays with them, mostly questioning the practicality of their toy phone, and reads to them before bed/a nap. He really does like you, a lot. Anyone attached to you, he cares about, even if it's a tiny human who coughs in his face and licks his watch. They're growing on him, but they love him. Where's Ro-Ro? They ask constantly. He hates to see them cry, it breaks his heart, and will jokingly call you a monster for saying no them, even if it's for their own safety like putting their toy in the microwave or jumping on their bed. He definitely wants to spoil the hell out of them, just to hear them squeal in delight.

[gtbutterfly]

new gt story?

hey, so I wrote a short opening to a new story I thought of, should I continue it? let me know your thoughts. criticism is appreciated.

______________________________________________________________

It was winter, way past the holiday months and weeks before it could ever be considered anywhere near spring. In the morning there was ice blocking the glass windows before the sun melted it away and kept the the rest of the day cool. There wasn’t any snow, there hadn’t been in a long time. Anytime it was cold enough for snowflakes to fall, the sky was perfectly clear, and any time there was a storm, it was roughly just room temperature outside. The coldest it got was the nights. Occasionally it would drop to near twenty degrees Fahrenheit. The nights were frigid and silent, no bugs making noise, and barely any cars to be heard in the distance. It was a small, quiet town, after all. Woods surrounded it and no more than a thousand people lived there. The town was founded by a logging company, most of the residents when they first moved there were employees.

Decades ago, there was an incident regarding the logging mill. According to the old newspapers, the workers recalled some kind of earthquake, tremors in the ground, but it wasn’t an ordinary earthquake. It was like footsteps, they said, “thump, thump, thump,” in the ground. “Boom, boom, boom,” as it got closer. More and more workers reported these vibrations in the ground, and worry was caused throughout the company and the town. They even hired a team of scientists and investigators to find what it was, but they never found anything, at least not anything they’ve shown to the public. A few people decided to investigate the tremors themselves. They went into the forest. They haven’t yet been found, presumed dead. The people in charge of our town decided to make rules for the townspeople's safety. There was a curfew installed, and no one was allowed to be outside a building after eleven pm until sunrise. They banned camping out at a certain point away from the town. No one is allowed to do their own investigations of the mysterious tremors that are still felt today. For the most part, this town is silent. The days are filled with the sound of trees being chopped down and falling in the distance, as well as the children playing, and being scolded for going too close to the woods. At night, on the other hand, it was perfectly silent. Quiet enough to hear a pin drop. There was the occasional sound, wolves howling, the wind blowing, trees and leaves rustling against each other, appearing as black silhouettes in the sky.

On some of these nights, I would stay up, gazing out the window of wherever I was staying. Being in this town's foster care system, it would vary over the weeks. I was told that my birth parents were some of the missing persons when the tremors first happened. They left their infant child to run into the woods after some monster or ecological event and were never seen again. I don’t remember them, I don’t exactly miss them either. I couldn’t miss something I never had. The feeling I had was probably closer to envy than anything. Every couple of weeks, I would be assigned to a new family to care for me. Most of them are friendly, but sometimes I end up with the same family multiple times since not many people sign up. As far as I’m aware, I’m the only person in the foster care system in this town. The house I was staying in now was near the edge of town, right next to the dark forest no one was supposed to step in. I’ve heard about other students at my school sneaking out there at night, as part of some dare or just to impress others. Usually, I would never think to do something like that. I never cared much about impressing others, I mainly kept to myself, some would say too much. 

I stared out the window towards the forest. The moon just barely made the scene conceivable. I wasn’t looking at the forest anyway, I was looking above it. At the sky. The area is so rural that there's no light pollution here, so it’s perfect for stargazing if you're into that. Unfortunately, there hasn’t been much since the curfew was enacted. I was in one of the few houses where you could see the stars from indoors. The night sky was beautiful, objectively speaking. There were thousands, millions of stars scattered about, circling a white, glowing moon. There was space dust swirling around. The sky was a dark blueish shade of purple, barely on the line between magenta and black. I looked at it. I thought It looked nice. It had to. I knew that, but I didn’t quite feel it. I didn’t feel much toward the sky. I felt nothing. The sky was dark. And blue, and black, and purple, and had dozens of stars and elements of space in it. It was beautiful. And I felt nothing. I just stared out at the sky until I felt something that made me flinch.

A vibration. It was quick, too quick for an earthquake. It was followed by another vibration. And another. The next one was bigger. They kept getting larger and larger. Wolves howled and whined in the distance. The trees rustled against each other harder, but there was no wind blowing at all. Something was pushing them. Then I saw it. Whatever it was, it was massive. A giant silhouette hidden in the night and the trees. I could just barely make out the reflection of moonlight in its eye. It was nearly 50 feet tall, taller than any building in the whole town. I thought I was dreaming. I pinched myself. 

“Ow,” I wasn’t. A fifty-foot humanoid was walking through the forest. I saw it. It walked passed the houses and the trees and retreated into the forest. I got up from my chair and walked away from the window. I went outside the back door. I couldn’t tell you why. All I felt was the same nothingness from before. But why? A literal giant was walking behind houses, and I felt no fear, no dread, no joy, no excitement. Just nothing. I felt nothing as I followed the giant into the woods. Leaves crunched under my slippers. I followed the giant for a couple of minutes, occasionally hiding behind a tree or bush if they ever looked my way. I still didn’t know why. I didn’t have my phone or a camera to get evidence that it existed, I obviously wasn’t planning to confront it. Maybe it was just curiosity. Eventually, the giant stopped. I hid behind a tree, but that didn’t matter. They knew I was there for who knows how long. They turned around. Their voice were softer than I expected, rather than being big and booming but just made the air vibrate. 

“I know you're following me, kid,” they said. Their voices sounded tough and feminine. “You got something to say?”

It all hit me at once. Everything I was supposed to be feeling before, fear, dread, curiosity, it all fell on me as my stomach dropped as the beings voice buzzed through the air and into my body. I was dumbfounded. I didn’t say anything. My eyes were widened as I stepped backwards. Why did do this? Why did I break our towns rules and go out after dark and follow a massive creature that could kill me in an instant? They were looking down at me with its red eyes. They were bending down to look at me better. Suddenly, I was running. There wasting any thoughts in my mind anymore, only emotion, only fear. I didn’t know where I was going, I just kept running away from the giant. It was dark. The trees blocked out the moonlight, and I was sprinting in pitch blackness. It was cold, one of those nights where it got down to near 20 degrees. I could feel tremors behind me. The giant was following me. I ran faster, until I tripped over the root of a tree, falling into a shallow river. It was cold, frigid and shocking. I didn’t move for a moment. The water was knee deep. After the shock of the cold, I felt pain coursing though my body, mostly in my arms and head, I must have hit it against a rock when I fell. My vision was blurry, either from the head trauma or the water in my eyes. I looked up at the dark silhouette standing over me. The giant. They were standing on they’re knees looking down at me. I couldn’t see their expression in the darkness. I heard them sigh, as their massive hand reached down towards me. Then I blacked out.

[sunnyrealist]

Chapter 62: The Last Eight Years

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Previous Chapter Recap/Context: Sebastian spent two horrible days in the field with the Kelpies gang, during which his assigned partner went too far with the interrogation of a man. His partner lit the man's house on fire with his children inside, and Seb had to covertly create a way out so that the entire family could escape. Sebastian and his partner were severely punished afterwards, and Kate tried her best to make Seb comfortable when he returned home. The next day is one filled with promise - Sebastian finally reunites with his friend Ruby McKinnon (the Hero of Hogwarts) after nearly a decade. There's a moment of surprise when Kate and Sebastian realize that their company ordered one too many butterbeers. It turns out Ruby got in touch with Ominis and invited him as well. The Slytherin trio finally reunites. In this chapter, Ruby and Sebastian spend time catching up on the past eight years.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x 24-year-old Kate Mayflower (my OC), the assistant librarian at Hogwarts

Art Credit: @giselsann-opencommissions 💛

Content warnings: In general, this is rated 18+, so minors should not read or interact with this story. This chapter features the sharing of trauma and pain, admitting one's faults, talk of loneliness, and somewhat judgmental comments coming from friends.

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback if possible, especially if you like what you read! 🥰

Chapter 62: The Last Eight Years

“Hi, Poppy.” Ominis gives her a friendly smile. He then nods towards Kate. “And who is this?” 

“This is my girlfriend, Kate Mayflower,” Sebastian replies contentedly. “Kate, this is Ominis Gaunt.”

Kate reaches out a hand.

“Well, well… so many surprises,” he replies, shaking her hand. “I’m glad to meet you.”

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Kate explains. His hand is cool to the touch, and right away, she notices a silver ring on his left ring finger. “It’s so good to put a face to the name.” Ominis’ hand lingers for a moment longer, and she realizes it must be because he is blind, trying to make out any features he can.

The five of them take seats around the table, and Sebastian passes the extra mug of butterbeer to Ominis, who accepts it gratefully. He takes a long drink, then relaxes. “There’s nothing quite like butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Seems like an eternity since we three were last here together.”

“You have no idea,” Sebastian murmurs. 

They all sit in silence for a moment, and Kate isn’t sure what to say. Though she feels welcome, this is not her friend group, so she decides to let Sebastian and his friends lead. 

“Where do we even begin?” Ominis finally breaks the silence, appearing thoughtful. “How do we even recount eight entire years?”

Ruby smiles softly. “I suppose… Well, perhaps we all just take turns.”

Sebastian nods, quiet, still stunned to actually be in their company.

“I can go first,” Ruby volunteers. “Hmm… I guess I’ll start with sixth year at Hogwarts?” 

“Agreed - that sounds sensible,” Ominis murmurs.

Ruby takes a sip of her butterbeer and laces her fingers with Poppy’s. “Quidditch came back in sixth year - maybe Kate told you that, Sebastian. Not even a week after the announcement was made, Imelda broke up with me.” She chuckles. “I was upset at the time, but looking back, it made sense. Her only true love was Quidditch, and she spent the rest of her time at Hogwarts on the pitch every chance she got. She’s been playing for the Holyhead Harpies since graduation and lives in Wales now. Poppy and I have been to a few of her matches over the years. We’re still friendly.”

Sebastian nods appreciatively. “I’m glad to hear she made it. She was such an intense captain. Quidditch practice with her was exhausting, but she made us one hell of a team.”

Kate can see Ominis’ lips curling upwards as Sebastian speaks and notices his fingers curling tighter around the handle of his mug.

“With you… gone, Sebastian, and… Ominis mostly unavailable, I ended up spending more time with Natty and Amit and Poppy starting in sixth year. Especially Poppy,” Ruby continues with a cheeky grin. “And one fateful day in April, Poppy and I were chasing off some poachers from a den of Giant Purple Frogs. We slipped on some rocks and splashed into a bog, and we were laughing like crazy. The next thing I knew… we were kissing.” She blushes a little, glancing at Poppy. “We decided to start dating… and, well, we’re married now.” Ruby brings Poppy’s hand to her lips and gives it a peck.

“I know you still go by Ruby McKinnon,” Sebastian acknowledges. “I saw how you signed your name in your letter. But how about you, Poppy? And… what do you both do for work, since you mentioned traveling for work?”

Poppy smiles, glad to be included. “I go by Poppy Sweeting-McKinnon. And… as far as work, I always knew I wanted to be a magizoologist, but it’s not an easy field to break into, so I started with the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Beasts as a Centaur Liaison. Before I came along, the Ministry saw the role as a joke, but I showed them that we of the wizarding community could actually have good relations with centaurs. Ruby, on the other hand, had it so easy when it came to jobs! Every department in the Ministry was chasing her down, absolutely begging her to work for them. I mean, even other ministries around the world approached her, and rightly so. She’s… a gem. Pun intended.” She smirks.

“Oh, stop it.” Ruby giggles, waving her hand. “I wanted to live with Poppy, but I knew her dream job as a magizoologist would take her all over the world. I had to find a career that allowed me to travel with her - or at least near her. The Department of Mysteries was the most keen to offer me a job and told me I could name just about any area of research as long as it related to my ancient magic, and I could work anywhere I wished. In the end, I chose to research the connection between creatures and ancient magic, just like San Bakar of the Keepers once did.” She looks at Sebastian, gauging his reaction.

“The Keepers,” he murmurs. “Merlin, it has been so long, but… I still remember asking you to…” he trails off, suddenly looking sheepish. “Never mind.”

Ruby gazes at Sebastian for several moments, pensive. She opens her mouth and then closes it. She takes a long swig of her butterbeer.

Kate smiles, trying to quickly cover for her boyfriend’s awkward moment. “I know someone who works for the same department you once did, Poppy. I wonder if you might know him - Henry Finch? He’s an old friend from my Hogwarts days.”

“Henry Finch?” Poppy repeats incredulously. “I do know him!” She laughs. “What a small world! I actually trained him as the new centaur liaison before I left the Ministry. Wonderful fellow - smart as a whip and so good-natured. Funny, too! He was patient with the centaurs and eager to learn about their culture. I’m certain he did quite well after I left.” 

Grinning even more widely at Poppy’s response, Kate glances at Sebastian, who tenses at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. She squeezes his hand in reassurance, as if to say let it go. “Small world indeed! Henry is actually going to be an interim Beasts professor at Hogwarts starting this fall. Howin is researching Wampus cats in America for about five months.” She pauses, then lights up. “Maybe in the fall we can all meet up, and I’ll invite Henry to join!”

“Lovely!” Poppy exclaims, chuckling. 

 There’s a moment of quiet, and everyone sips their butterbeers thoughtfully. 

“So, when did you marry? Where do you live these days?” Sebastian asks.

“Summer of 1896,” Poppy replies. “The wedding was very small - we preferred it that way.” 

“I was there,” Ominis chimes in. “I’ll never forget the moment you realized your niffler stole Ruby’s ring.”

The entire group cracks up.

Ruby continues, “We travel most of the year for work, so we don’t really have a permanent home. In the past year, we’ve been to… oh, let’s see… Austria, Japan, India, Brazil… and now we’re here again. We always return to Scotland in the summer and around Christmas to spend time with Poppy’s gran. This summer, we are actually staying in her house.” She glances at her wife to see if she wants to go into more detail.

“My gran’s health is declining,” Poppy explains. “We thought we could help her more if we stayed with her.” She looks off into the distance. “If she continues to feel poorly, we might stick around this area for a while - or at least stay in Western Europe.”

“I see,” Sebastian acknowledges.

Kate can sense that they’re just about finished telling their story. “Shall I order another round? And perhaps some chips?”

“I’ll come,” Poppy offers.

They stand, strolling towards the bar. Sebastian watches Kate admiringly.

“She’s lovely, Sebastian,” Ruby murmurs, following his gaze.

“Yes, she is.” He gives her a small smile. “And I think you and Poppy are a great match.”

“We are,” she agrees. 

Kate and Poppy return with the butterbeers, passing them out.

Sebastian looks to Ominis, noticing the ring on his finger. “What about you, Om-”

Ominis looks as though he is about to open his mouth, but Ruby swiftly interrupts. “Sebastian, Poppy and I aren’t going to stay the whole night. I thought I might give you and Ominis some privacy to catch up on your own. I don’t mean to be rude, but… I was hoping we could hear about you next.”

Both Sebastian and Ominis frown, their brows furrowed. Kate sits again, scooting a little closer to her boyfriend. She takes his hand in hers under the table.

“I suppose,” Sebastian replies, then realizes he isn’t sure where to even begin. “I… I’m not sure what to say. I… am not sure I even can tell you all that much.”

The rest of the group seems to lean in as one. Ruby props up her head, her elbow on the table. Ominis closes his eyes.

“The last time I saw you two…” Sebastian begins, “...was probably at my hearing.” He swallows thickly, his head spinning with terrible memories. “Obviously, you know what happened there and what came next for me.” Kate squeezes his hand to urge him to continue, and he glances towards her as he speaks. “I… I’m not sure I’m ready to t-talk about Azkaban,” he adds, his voice breaking. “It’s too painful. M-maybe someday I… will tell you some things. I’m sorry… I’m just… not ready to share that. It was hard enough to explain to Kate. And she- she still doesn’t know everything,” he adds uncomfortably.

Ominis is silent, a troubled expression on his face. 

Ruby nods solemnly. “Very well. I understand.”

There’s a long pause, and they all sip their butterbeer.

“But… How are you here?” Ominis asks. “I don’t understand. You were given a life sentence…”

Sebastian opens his mouth, then closes it, his mind working overtime. “I… I actually can’t tell you that. I’m working with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on a special project - it’s the reason for my probation. It’s… dangerous and demanding and exhausting - physically, emotionally, even magically. I wish I could explain, but… I am making progress in my assignment, and I hope to be off of probation soon. I truly feel like I am doing what I must to- to make up for the past. I… I left prison at 21-”

“21? We’re all 25 now…” Ruby points out. “Why… Why wait so long to contact us?” She shakes her head, looking at Ominis. “Sebastian, you have no idea how horrible we felt for years…”

“And you think I didn’t feel horrible?!” he replies loudly, his tone sounding more aggressive and snappy than intended. He sighs upon seeing a frown on Ominis’ face. “Sorry… I… I was not in a good place. Truth be told, I haven’t been in a good place for nearly a decade. Not until I met Kate.” Kate nods, trying to give him confidence. “I’m… not the person I once was - the person you once knew. Azkaban… changed me forever. I’m… working on it. At least… I’m trying to.” He pauses. “The things I saw… the things that were done to me… have taken a toll. I’m… I’m just going to be honest about this. I am insecure. I have a terrible fear of abandonment - that others will… turn on me, give up on me, leave me. I have a hard time believing I’m a good person and that I’ll ever be good enough for anyone I care about. I never feel worthy of happiness and peace. I often can’t sleep… and when I do, I have relentless nightmares that force me to relive trauma and pain I still haven’t figured out how to manage. I’m… well, frankly, I’m a mess.”

Kate holds his hand tighter.

Ruby’s eyes fill with tears. “Sebastian… we never meant for this to happen…”

He narrows his eyes in confusion but continues on. “For years… I convinced myself that you probably both hated me. Those kinds of thoughts had been deeply reinforced by guards in Azkaban. When I entertained the idea of writing to either of you, I would soon change my mind - that you were better off without me - that I would cause nothing but harm again - that you were probably both living full lives - peaceful ones that I would interrupt. I also wondered if you would just… reject me outright, which I just could not have endured.”

“No,” Ruby murmurs. “We would never have turned you away…”

Sebastian looks away. “I know that now. But… that’s why I never wrote to either of you. For so many years, I just continued to feel miserable and… lonely beyond words. I’m trying so hard to change how I see myself… but it’s difficult after years of believing I don’t even deserve to be alive.”

Ominis appears troubled, shifting nervously in his seat.

“Kate… has been infinitely patient and understanding. We’re going to find a Mind Healer for me at St. Mungo’s so I can… better process all that has happened to me… and the things I’ve done to survive.” He looks to his girlfriend. “I owe Kate a great deal. She’s changed my life. She’s like… a light in the darkness, always encouraging me. She was the one who ultimately convinced me to write to you both.”

One of the bartenders comes by to drop off two huge plates of warm chips and a bottle of malt vinegar. Poppy and Kate quickly murmur their thanks while the rest of their group sits in a thoughtful silence. Everyone reaches for a chip but Sebastian, who is trying to figure out what else he might share.

“How did you and Kate meet?” Ruby inquires.

Although Kate could jump in, she lets Sebastian continue leading the discussion. “It wasn’t by any means an unusual meeting. I was at the Leaky Cauldron on a Friday in May, trying to get pissed, if I’m honest. There was a loud group in the pub, and at first I was annoyed by them, but… I might not have noticed Kate otherwise. She was celebrating her birthday with friends, and I… I couldn’t stop watching her smile and laugh all night. She just… seemed so warm and happy… and it didn’t hurt that she is extraordinarily beautiful.” Kate swats at Sebastian bashfully, turning pink. “What? You are.” He chuckles. “As the night went on, I finally had an opportunity to talk to her alone. Something just kept urging me to take a chance. We were both drawn to each other, as though we were meant to meet.” A lopsided smile appears on his face. “We ended up spending the entire night together. We apparated to Hogsmeade, since this is where Kate actually lives, and now, I do, too… and we just walked around the village and talked. It was clear that there was a strong connection between us - neither of us had ever felt anything like it before. We both love to read and learn, want the same things out of life, and have similar senses of humor. We like to say she’s the sun to my moon.” He makes eye contact with Kate and confidently adds, “We are soulmates - absolutely positive of it.” 

“May of… this year?” Ominis asks, surprised. 

“Yes.”

“That’s rather fast,” the blind man responds. “You’ve moved in together already? How do you know you’re… soulmates? You’ve hardly been together a month.”

Sebastian and Kate exchange glances, their eyebrows raised and eyes wide. They’ve never discussed how they might… or if they might… tell others about their reincarnation. 

“We… erm… We just know,” Sebastian answers cryptically.

Ominis seems skeptical. “In my experience, love takes time.”

Ruby, trying to keep the visit comfortable, chimes in, “Well… When you know, you know.”

“When’s the wedding?” Poppy jokes, and they laugh it off while Ominis adjusts his posture.

Suddenly, there seems to be some kind of conflict near the bar. The voices of two men suddenly become louder and aggravated, and their party watches as one of the bartenders intervene. One of the men stomps outside.

“Well then,” Poppy murmurs with a chuckle.

Ruby speaks up again after a few moments. “So, Kate, what do you do for a living? Tell us a little about yourself.”

“Oh… erm…” Kate spends a moment deciding what to share. “I’m 24. I was at Hogwarts when you lot were, too, but I only vaguely knew Poppy because I was in Hufflepuff.” 

Ominis smirks at Sebastian when he hears that. “Not a Slytherin, huh?” to which, his old friend shrugs.

“Kate’s friends were a lot of fun. I was always jealous of them,” Poppy admits.

Kate smiles at that, then continues, “I grew up in Epping Forest - near London. I have a very close-knit family. But as Seb mentioned, I live here in Hogsmeade. I moved when I took a job at Hogwarts - I’m currently the assistant librarian, but I should become the head whenever Scribner finally retires. I hope to own my own bookshop one day.”

“A librarian,” Ominis notes. “And not just any librarian - one at Hogwarts.” He chuckles. “How perfect. The two of you - a bookworm and a librarian. Your family would have gotten a real kick out of that.”

“Did you know that Sebastian was an absolute menace to Scribner?” Ruby asks playfully. “One of the very first things he and I did together was sneak into the Restricted Section, and we got caught. Scriber was so disappointed when he covered for me.”

Kate rolls her eyes. “Scribner is disappointing in many ways herself. I just don’t see eye to eye with her on many aspects of the library. She’s told me for two years straight that she is going to retire and both years changed her mind at the last minute. It’s been rather frustrating.”

“You’ll get your wish. Just give it time, love,” Sebastian murmurs. “You’ll be the best librarian Hogwarts has ever seen.” She blushes again as he nudges his shoulder against hers. 

She could go on and tell them so much more, but this get-together really isn’t about her. She smiles at the group, expecting to move on to a new topic of conversation. There are only a few more chips left, and Sebastian finally reaches for them. Kate finishes her butterbeer, as do Poppy and Ruby. Ominis and Sebastian still have a ways to go, but she wonders if they’ll move on to something stronger after what has been shared so far. 

“Would anyone like something more? I’m happy to order more drinks or snacks,” she offers, glancing specifically at the gentlemen at the table.

Ruby puts her hand on Poppy’s arm. “We actually have to get going. We have morning plans, and… well, I think it would be best for you two-” she gestures to Ominis and Sebastian, “-to catch up without us.” 

Though he is unsure of her meaning, Sebastian nods anyway. His tone is so hopeful when he says, “We’ll meet up again soon… right?”

“Absolutely,” Ruby replies, standing up with her wife. “Sebastian, I still just can’t believe it…” He stands as well, and she hugs him tightly. “It’s so good to see you. Please… don’t be a stranger.”

“Never again,” he affirms. 

“We’ll settle the tab,” Ruby mentions.

“No, please - allow me,” Kate offers, her eyes sparkling. “You have no idea how much this has meant to Sebastian, and I would like to be the one to pay. Please.”

Ruby and Poppy glance at each other, then nod. “Thank you,” they both murmur. Before they walk away, they say goodbye to everyone. Poppy swings the basket of shortbread biscuits in Kate’s direction, nodding in appreciation of the gift.

Kate is left standing alone, and she looks at the two long-lost friends still seated at the table. Sebastian would welcome her to stay - of that, she is sure - but it feels wrong to intrude upon this moment.

“I… I think I’ll actually head home early as well,” Kate says kindly. “You two deserve some time to talk by yourselves. I’ll pay and be right back to say goodbye.”

When she returns minutes later, she places two glasses of fine aged Firewhisky before the two men. “I’ll be on my way now.” She kisses Sebastian’s cheek. “No rush at all. I’ll see you whenever you two finish up. I won’t wait up all night if you’re home late. Don’t worry about me at all.” 

Sebastian rises to embrace her. “I love you.” He kisses her cheek in return. “Thank you for this. It wouldn’t have happened without you, sunshine.”

“I love you, too.” Kate gives him a sweet smile, then says goodbye to Ominis. 

It’s still warm outside, and the sun is setting slowly. Kate considers walking home but ultimately decides to apparate. She changes into more comfortable clothing and completes some prep work for tomorrow’s meals until she feels sleepy. She leaves a light on in the living room for Sebastian before retreating for bed, where she reads for another half hour, then finally succumbs to sleep with a little smile on her face. Her Bash had found his true friends once more.

[streamdotpng]

The voices talk to Enid sometimes.

Sure, their crazy mutterings has driven her to headaches and the wish to dig her nails into her brain to keep them quiet but!

It was nice to talk to someone.

Hard to keep contact with anyone when you moved to some random place of nowhere so any company - even if it was in the hushed murmurings of past wolves that crave and crow for the blood that had suffocated them - was better than nothing

But through the frenzied murmurs of chase after that squirrel! or the cry of a McDonald's! that doesn't exist in this tiny town, Enid can hear the voices of people that isn't so lost to grief and death.

They're the older ones from before the massacre and the taint, when her status was a blessing and not a curse.

They talk when the sun first rises, the only time where most of the craved seemed to almost hibernate and Enid appreciates the way the midnight sky breaks apart for the light warm glow of orange.

It feels like she can breathe during these times. She appreciated the night sky, loving the moons glow like every wolf but..

Enid closes her eyes, remembering the look Wednesday gave her all those nights ago.

Yeah, like every wolf.

It's no wonder her blood went for wednesday when they could. Who wouldn't?

are you alright? a voice asks, it's enough to make enid open her eyes and bask in the tiring heat of the sun and her body aches. The voice didn't hold the harsh gnash of teeth, like a snarl echoing but they speak with the soft strain of a voice, one so used to screaming.

"missin' her," Enid answers. There was no use for lying. "seems like no matter where I go, I'll think of her."

The mental image of a ? pops into her head and Enid humms, pulling her knees up to lay her arms and head on them.

She feels tired.

She should sleep soon. It's too early to be up, she needs to head inside.

(To the empty halls? The cold bed?)

Maybe she should stay out a little longer and feel the warmth, vitamin D is healthy after all.

"got away from jersey 'cause they're livin' there," Enid murmurs, tracing her arm with a finger as her eyes stared onto the rising sun. Maybe if she stares long enough, the light will sear into her eyes instead of someone else. "i helped picked their house and-"

She choked, her throat closing before she let out a breath.

".. I don't know why but I thought that could've been us someday," Enid admits as her eyes blur. "just me and 'day, like in nevermore."

There's no shame in wishing, it speaks and Enid breathes a shuddering air as she blinks. It's only human.

The werewolf eyes drops and she burrows her head fully into her arms.

"human to wish for someone else?"

Yes. We earned our place here by doing so.

"I don't know what to feel about that," she drly mutters. "kinda crazy to know that thousands of old spirits are wafting in my brain."

We are here to aide when we can.

Why couldn't you aide me when it mattered then? She wants to snap. Why couldn't you tell me that I would end up like this? Miserable, alone.

Exactly what she didn't want.

Enid wants to scream, she wants to choke out the words of why.

She burrows herself deeper, wishing that the cushion of her arm was another ones shoulder. She thinks back to damp woods, of harsh breathes and blood staining her hands as she holds the one person she cares about in this world.

She thinks of Wednesday.

Thinks of that small curl of her lips and the way her cheek dips into a beautiful dimple. Enid breathes in the dust of her clothes and wishes that it's the familiar ache of some kind of poison and dirt from the Addams cemetery.

"why can't I stop," Enid says, her eyes a glazed empty blue as she gazes into nothing. "why do I see her everywhere?"

The world must be mocking her because even when the wolf left to a whole different state, to as far as she could go. Enid sees the girl she loves in every step of the way. In the woods she walks, the dark of her kitchen, the blood that spills from her fingers as she works, stuck in the shadows inbetween the houses-

Wednesday is there like a parasite, leeching onto her brain and leaving Enid unable to think of anything else.

It takes a moment but when they answer, it makes Enid laugh. The sound a pathetic watery wheeze as a tear slips before the rest follows.

It makes sense, doesn't it?

You love her after all.

[snape-lover13]

The old classroom was cloaked in an almost eerie silence, broken only by the rustle of pages as Remus turned them, and the scratching of Severus's quill against parchment. The dim light from a solitary lamp in the corner cast long shadows, creating a mysterious atmosphere that mirrored the complexities of the relationship between the two boys.

Remus Lupin, with his worn-out copy of Percy Jackson, was lost in the world of demigods and mythical creatures. It was his refuge, a place where he could escape the harsh reality of being a werewolf and the growing distance between him and his friends. He felt the weight of the impending full moon, and the solitude gnawed at him.

In the opposite corner, Severus Snape scowled over his astronomy homework, resenting the interruption. The last thing he wanted was company, especially from a member of the infamous Marauders. But as his gaze met Remus's, he detected a vulnerability, a weariness that echoed his own struggles with his tumultuous life.

Books and parchment scattered as Severus's irritation boiled over. "Why are you still here, Lupin? Can't you find somewhere else to rot?"

Remus, startled, stammered an apology and offered to leave. Yet, to his surprise, Severus's tone softened, and he hesitated. "Fine, stay. Just don't bother me."

The two boys retreated to their respective corners, the tension lingering in the air. Remus couldn't help but steal glances at Severus, who seemed entirely absorbed in his work. However, after a while, Remus noticed something unexpected—Severus had abandoned his astronomy homework and had picked up a copy of Percy Jackson.

The shared appreciation for the adventures of Percy, Annabeth, and Grover created an unspoken connection, even if Severus didn’t know it yet. Remus smiled, realizing that in this moment, they were just two boys, escaping into the world of half-bloods and monsters, putting aside the labels that society had imposed upon them.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night stretched on, Remus, immersed in the adventures of Percy Jackson, found comfort in the familiar escapades of demigods navigating a world that mirrored the complexities of his own life. The moon's glow filtered through the dusty windows, casting intricate patterns on the stone floor

Severus, on the other hand, was switching between  a complex potion formula and enjoying his book. The flickering candlelight accentuated the sharp angles of his features as he furrowed his brow, the ink-stained quill dancing with precision across the parchment. The atmosphere in the room felt charged with unspoken tension, a delicate balance between the solitude they sought and the inevitable collision of their worlds.

The silence between them was heavy, each absorbed in their pursuits, and yet the awareness of the other's presence lingered like an unspoken invitation. Remus stole occasional glances at Severus, observing the meticulous nature of his work. The potion diagrams sprawled across the parchment seemed to dance with an alchemical grace that contrasted sharply with the whimsical chaos of Percy Jackson's tales.

As the night wore on, the air became thick with a quiet tension that demanded release. Remus, feeling the urge to break the silence, looked up from his book and found Severus's eyes already on him, a challenge in their depths.

Severus's voice cut through the stillness, "You really find solace in those tales, Lupin? Not your typical werewolf reading material."

Remus paused, considering his words before responding, "Perhaps. But sometimes, even in fiction, we find reflections of our own struggles. It's not about escaping; it's about understanding."

Severus raised an eyebrow, a silent invitation for Remus to elaborate. And so, in the hushed corners of that Hogwarts classroom, a dialogue unfolded – not of camaraderie, but of opposing perspectives and shared vulnerabilities.

Remus continued, "Percy Jackson's world is one of constant battles, not just against external foes, but against the internal ones too. It resonates with the struggles we face as outsiders, as individuals caught between two worlds."

Severus scoffed, "And you see yourself as an outsider, Lupin? Don't pretend we share the same struggles."

Remus met Severus's gaze with a steady intensity, "We may wear different masks, Snape, but we both know what it's like to navigate a world that doesn't fully accept us."

The words hung in the air, a challenge and an acknowledgment woven into the fabric of the night. The dialogue, though strained, became a bridge between two solitary souls navigating the labyrinth of their own realities.

As the night drew to a close, the unfinished potion and the worn-out book lay side by side, remnants of a night that had woven a complex tapestry of shared silence and challenging words. Remus gathered his belongings, leaving the classroom with a nod towards Severus, a silent agreement to continue the conversation another night.

The moon cast its final glow over the room, a witness to the nuanced dance of words and quiet companionship that unfolded within the walls of Hogwarts, a place where even the loneliest of souls found an unexpected connection in the depth of the night.

[angelmichelangelo]

hi hi hi!!! i love your writing!!! for some prompts 12!mikey and his untalked anger issues or ronin mikey and the babies!! (the peepaw fic killed me/pos)

thank you so much 🤧❤️ !! i am always up for some more peepaw and babies fic since they totally have my heart but for now have some 2012!mikey and raph brotherly bonding !! hope you enjoy :) it’ll also go up on ao3 later :P

His anger had towered over his other personalities, dwarfing them in its long, dark shadow.

Baby blues had disappeared leaving just the whites of his eyes, a predatory instinct reserved usually for the offense, face pinched into an ugly frown, it’s all Raph can picture as he lays there on his cot, staring up at the slope of the ceiling of his quarter of the ship he’s called home for the past few weeks.

He turns over just as his stomach does the same, empty, it gnaws around its own edges, a slick feeling of nausea creeping up inside him liking a slow rising tide, Raph ignores it, turning over a second time.

Today had been weird, even in their terms. And whilst it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d experienced saddling up and psyche hopping with his brothers; he’d already done the whole dream sharing thing back at the farmhouse which felt like a lifetime ago — but this hadn’t been a dream.

This had been the inside of Mikey’s head. Inside his actual memories and mind.

He swallows thickly, the lump that presses hard in the back of his throat fails to budge. He turns back onto his shell again. There’s the same old ceiling. The one that he’s slowly growing used to. The pit in his gut grows longer the harder he stares, white noise floods his ears.

He’d been… so angry. That look, the way it had towered over the rest. Raph knows that feeling all too well. Like familiar unfamiliar ceilings, it causes him to turn over again, squeezing his eyes shut to rid him of the images that swarm his head like a hive of angry bees.

Laying here he realizes does nothing to quell that feeling, so he flings the blanket from off his legs, swinging them off the side of the cot and striding across the room with heavy footsteps.

He makes his way to the bridge, only because it’s one of the rare places on this ship that’s crammed with enough people already. In the daytime — not that space really has a daytime according to Donnie, the hub of their temporary home is full of all the people Raph has left in his life. And as much as he appreciates them, it can feel a little crowded at times.

At nighttime when Fugitoid shuts himself off for recharging, that particular room found itself for good old lonesome company.

The door swooshes open, cool air greets his skin and he takes one step forward before stopping short.

Well. This room usually found itself for good old, lonesome company.

Mikey is there on the step leading to the window that covers most of the front half of the ship. Outside is a swirl of blues and purples, painted across a dark, almost starless sky. He’s motionless, almost as if he hadn’t heard Raphael come in at all, knees drawn up under his chin, his voice is quiet, sleepy around the edges like he was either fighting off sleep or perhaps recently emerged from it, he doesn’t turn to face him when he says,

“You know Donnie told me that some stars you’re able to actually touch.” Raph stays where he is, unmoving. “They’re burning but not hot enough to hurt you. Isn’t that weird?”

He turns then, his trademarked lopsided grin plastered across his face, his bandana hangs loose around his neck which offers the opportunity to show off the dark circles that are heavy around the underneath of his eyes, that perhaps proved that there had been no such sleep in the equation after all.

“Space is weird, Mikey,” he says gruffly, dropping himself into the space beside him. “Donnie could tell me that the moon is made of French cheese and it wouldn’t bother me.”

Mikey has his head hung low now, as if trying to hide himself in shadows that weren’t really there. Maybe it was just a ninja instinct, Raph isn’t sure, but he doesn’t miss the way his brothers face goes tight as he forces a smile across his face.

“French cheese, huh?” He says, voice strained to give the allusion of a laugh. “That’s some fancy moon you’ve got there.”

“Yeah well.” Raph says bluntly. He rubs a three fingered hand around the edge of his jaw just to give his hands something to do. “We deserve at least something nice, don’t we?”

Mikey tries to laugh again, a sound akin to just a huff of breathy air escaping him, his ducks his head down again, pressing his chin against his bare knees.

“Hey,” Raph says after a few long seconds of silence. “You okay? After today?”

Mikey’s head snaps up like rubber, and there’s that grin again, all wide and beaming like he was trying to chase off the shadows all by himself.

“Dude. We’re used to this by now, right? Being inside my literal brain isn’t really groundbreaking for us anymore. I mean… look at where we are.”

He turns to face the glass screen again, eyes flicker back and forth as he takes in almost every inch of the view before him.

Raph sucks in a breath. He shifts a little where he’s sat down.

“Yeah I know,” he says deliberately slow. “But you start brushing off every strange instance then it kinda isn’t good for you. It all blurs together and then when you’re not actually okay…”

He trails off awkwardly, his words thinning out where they hang in the air between them, Mikey looks back around at him, those big blue eyes blink once, and then the corner of his mouth twitches upwards in the faintest of smiles.

“Gosh, Raph. You’re startin’ to sound like Dee,” he teases.

Raph feels his face pull itself into a frown. “Yeah and you’re sounding a lot like Leo when you do all this pretending to be okay shtick.” He presses.

Mikey snorts. It’s dismissive and the way he turns his head back around Raph knows that he’s not going to give in so easily.

“We’re brothers, Raph. Aren’t we supposed to be like, a little alike?”

His voice is small and quiet, and he’s gone back to studying the stars when Raph exhales, all long and slow and complentative.

“I guess,” he replies. “More ways than one, perhaps.”

It takes Mikey a little longer to respond to that one, whether on purpose or not Raph can’t be sure; perhaps he’s been pondering the same thoughts that have kept Raph awake, or maybe they’re finally starting to click together like bits of a missing jigsaw puzzle to finally show the entire picture, his eyes are glassy when they finally reach Raph’s.

“M’still better looking than you,” he mumbles. A shadow of a smile touches at his face but does nothing more than just pass by. “So there’s one thing we don’t have in common.”

Raph frowns. “Mike. You know what we saw, right?” He’s being entirely serious with him right now. He thinks about landing a hand on his shoulder, just to ground him, like it might make more sense in the context of their conversation because it feels like something Leo or Sensei might do, but Raph can’t stop himself from shoving his hands under his legs, just to stop them from twitching with all the nervous energy that’s built up inside of him like hot electricity.

Confusion flickers across Mikey’s face only momentarily. “Yeah?” He questions. He stretches one leg out in front of him, still resting his head on one knee like a damn puppy. “If anything I’m a little embarrassed still. Invasion much.”

Raph looks away. The swirl of dark space continues to slowly drift past the window, little specks of silver light dotted across the velvety dark, and Raph is reminded of the first time he remembers seeing the night sky, peering up through a storm drain with each of his siblings pressed in close to catch a glimpse, all whilst Splinter had ushered them on, little fingers reaching up and up…

“You know you could have talked to me,” Raph says once he’s eventually found his voice again. “You know I would have understood.”

“Talked to you?” Mikey blinks. “About what?”

And maybe he’s being obtuse on purpose but Raph doesn’t care. He whips his head up and forces himself to look towards his brother.

“All that anger? Mike? That anger that made up like, a fifth of your personality? Jesus, bro, don’t pretend with me Mikey. Please don’t.”

He expects Mikey to shrink in on himself; curl back up into the ball that Raph more or less found him in, bury his face back into his legs and just push him away — because that’s just what Mikey often does when confronted. That’s why Raph is finding all this hard to swallow. Mikey isn’t a confrontational person. That’s Raph’s thing.

But instead he pushes his other leg out, stretching out like he was basking under a summer sun, he looks relaxed as he lets a long, heavy exhale breeze past his lips.

“Remember when we were like, eight, and Sensei got sick?”

And of course Raph remembers. It’d been a harsh winter, like most winters when living in a sewer, and their father had come down with a bad bout of the flu after spending most of those cold, cold days and nights from shielding his sons from such a thing.

Those tedious stretch of days had been spent bringing in bowls of soup that would be half spilled across the floor from the kitchen to Splinter’s room as well an abundance of get well cards that were all color and crayon and although their father had seemed fine to them, he had made it clear as to what to do if he didn’t get better.

Raph swallows thickly, his throat feeling tight suddenly. He misses him. He wishes that he didn’t know what to do without him just so they wouldn’t have to go without him.

He nods despite himself, unsure of what his brother was to say next.

“And remember when Donnie wanted to sneak up to the surface for medicine but him and Leo that killer fight about it?” He’s still looking out towards the vast emptiness that awaits them just the other side of the window. He casually hooks an ankle over the other.

“Yeah,” Raph croaks. “They were just scared though,” he adds. “None of us really knew what to do.”

Mikey hums in agreement to this. He’s silent for a moment, as if perhaps carefully conducting his next sentence, which in itself is a little unsettling. That really isn’t a Mikey thing at all.

“We were eight,” he finally speaks, and this time his voice is more raw, buckling under a weight of heavy emotion, and even in the low light, he can still make out the glimmer of wet behind his eyes. “We were eight years old, Raph, and all we wanted was some medicine for our dad.”

This time Raph does reach a hand out, placing it on Mikey’s shoulder, he’s ready to offer him some kind of support that he’s keeping in his back pocket for moments like this the longer they’re away from home, but Mikey flinches away from his touch, head snapping around to face him, tears spray from his face in little bullets.

His face crumples into something wounded and angry before it irons itself out again, like a rubber band snapping back into its shape, his beak wrinkles as he forced himself to smile, his eyes still wet and wobbly with tears folds itself into little slits,

“And he was so sick and we were eight and I finally understood why it was that dad didn’t want us going streetside with the humans.” He sniffs as fat tears frame either side of his face. He brings a fist to scrub away at them. “Cos even though we needed their help, they wouldn’t wanna give it to us.”

Raph stills for a moment as he watches his brother swipe away at more tears that wet his cheeks. He tries again, reaching a hand out, his palm makes contact with his shoulder and this time he isn’t shoved away.

“And all the times Donnie used to beg dad to take us to school. Or when there wasn’t enough food and I’d cry so much.” He hiccups before suddenly standing, like all the frustration had bottled up inside of him and popped right open like a can of soda that’d been all shook up.

Raph stays sat down, watching as Mikey paces, turning away from him so he can’t quite watch the way he runs his hands over his face, tugging at the loose mask that’s still hanging around his neck, Raph swallows thicky, unsure if it’s his turn to talk.

“I guess I’ve just got a lot to be angry about,” Mikey says in a small, flat, far away sounding voice. “I know we all have. I know I’m not the only one and— god if it makes me that mad I can’t imagine how it makes dad feel—”

He spins around on his heel, like he’s about to show off one big grin like he usually has sported across his face. But instead his face is crumpled like wet paper, sad and hurt and Raph knows how it feels. He knows how badly it can hurt.

He pulls himself up his feet and crosses the gap between him and his little brother. He’s pulling himself in like he’s the center of his own gravity, arms wrapped around his middle, he stifles a yawn that works through his jaw.

And keeping a leash on your anger is a tiring thing.

It wears you down, like grinding stone against stone, he has days where he often wonders if all metaphors about anger result in the same kind of stone. Some days he feels far from the river that his father often reminds him of. He feels like he’s just in a hot, unrelenting desert, and there is no river to wash over him.

And he looks at his brother in these fleeting tantrums he seldom throws, and wonders if Mikey is too lost in the desert. If he’s looking for this so-called river as well.

And he isn’t Splinter with his well of wisdom and he doesn’t have all the answers like Donnie has or Leo sometimes pretends to know for their sake, but he knows he can try. Even if it comes out all wrong, like how own anger often does, he can try.

“It sucks, huh.”

That’s all he says. That’s really all he’s got. And hey, he did try. And when Mikey lifts his head to meet his gaze, there he can see the shadows of a smile slowly showing across his face.

“What? Being angry all the time? Yeah.”

Raph huffs. He shrugs his shoulders, more of that nervous energy being expelled out of his system.

“Maybe you’re better at keeping a hold on it than I am,” Raph admits to him. “But being angry isn’t like, such a terrible thing.”

His father had told him the same thing time and time again, when the fog of rage would ascend from his mind, leaving him in the wake, he’d often feel shameful, wanting to crawl into his shell and hide from the world.

And Sensei had reminded him that anger was just passion with a harder head on it. Anger was because you want even when you can’t have.

Anger wasn’t ugly like the monster Mikey believed to have inside himself. Anger was just the protector of those other slices of his personality because they all wanted the same thing. And it wasn’t fair the universe constantly denied them of it.

“I feel like with our track record it’s pretty justified.” Raph tells him, taking half a step forward towards him. “Especially with our track record.”

Mikey sniffs and god does he suddenly look his age again. Space had drawn away so much of their youthfulness, Raph often sees it crowding around Leo’s face is haunting shadows or the way Donnie’s voice seems to be an octave lower, like stress was physically pushing it further and further in the back of his throat.

But Mikey is still his baby brother. He’s still the youngest, always will be. He’s earned his right to kick up a fuss every now and then.

Raph reckons they all do.

“Hm,” Mikey hums, hoarse and raw sounding. He scrubs at his face a final time before letting his limbs flop by his sides, he does a little slow half circle before he’s dropping back into his previous spot on the step.

Raph doesn’t hesitate this time to join him.

“You gotta lemme know your secret though,” Raph says, bumping a shoulder with his. “How haven’t you like actually died of high blood pressure yet, I dunno.”

Mikey drops his head down, hanging low, there’s a raspy sounding laugh that seems to creep out of him.

“Guess I’m just better at it than you,” he tells him, lifting his head up to meet Raph’s gaze, he’s at least relieved to see an actual smile ghosting across his face this time. “Don’t take it personally though, bro.”

“Well,” Raph says shortly. “If you ever wanna just. Maybe. I dunno. Not explode together then… I’m here, man. I mean it.”

Mikey hums, leaning over to press his weight across Raph’s side, his head heavy across his shoulder, there’s a hand steady on his shell when he lands a few solid pats there.

“I know bro,” he says sleepily. Like all the energy had just zapped right outta him there and then. “I know.”

And they sit there for a while, his brothers weight a welcome one as they watch together, the universe passes them, washing over the ship in hues of blues and purples and little sparkly whites.

Like a river over stone, or like maybe like stars across the dark sky, it’s all the same to Raph.

[callsigndreadfrost]

Lovey Dovey OC Prompt Thingy!

(01) Is your OC in love? If so, with whom, and for how long?

♥ Oracle: Yes! Very much in love with Angelus. He's been in love with him for over 100 years and counting.

♥ Fallout: Yes, he is, he’s pretty much head over heels in love with Angelus. Several months now. Third time he met up with him he really fell hard for him.

♥ Skyrim: Yes! And if you guessed with Angelus you’d be correct. For him it was pretty much love at first sight tbh.

(02) Does another OC love your OC? If so, whom, and does your OC know?

♥ Oracle: I wouldn't say he's in love with him but Mason is crushing really hard on him. Like haaaaaaaaard! Yeah, Jelani knows he has a crush on him but he doesn't know just how bad it is.

♥ Fallout: No. He pretty much keeps to himself and doesn't interact much with other people.

♥ Skyrim: Not really, no.

(03) Are there any romantic gestures that your OC loves?

♥ Oracle: If they're apart for whatever reason be it due to work, visiting family or some type of chore they send each other links to songs so they can listen to them at the same time while they chat. During full moons Jelani accompanies Angelus and other werewolves but after successfully hunting both Jelani and Angelus just walk the wooded areas of Ashstone in their perspective shifted forms until dawn. Then both take human form again and go for some breakfast and coffee (iced coffee for Jelani ‘cause he doesn't like hot drinks) at a nearby diner.

♥ Fallout: A little into the wooded area of Egret there is a tent and a campfire and Jelani loves spending time there since it’s quiet, peaceful and it’s close enough to the river that he can listen to it but not too close to freak Angelus out. Angelus knows this is his favorite spot so he often times brings in a lot of snacks and takes Jelani there, especially when he’s having a bad day, and both spend some time out there just enjoying each other’s company.

♥ Skyrim: Angelus has pretty much turned his entire life to almost nocturnal because of Jelani so at sundown Angelus goes with Jela to feed and they spend some time in the woods wandering and taking in each other’s company.

(04) Are there any romantic gestures that your OC hates?

♥ Oracle, Fallout, Skyrim: Honestly, no. Anything that is done out of love and care he appreciates a lot. Even if it’s something that isn’t to his taste he’ll still appreciate it because someone actually thought to do something nice to and for him and he appreciates every little gesture.

(05) What is the most romantic thing your OC has done for someone else?

♥ Oracle: So this was after the Chris situation. After Angelus recovered, physically, Jelani just dropped everything, took a month off and left with Angelus to a cabin in Nova Scotia because he knows Valp really loves it there. They spent a month up there just taking in nature and each other in complete peace and quiet.

♥ Fallout: Angelus has a wrist watch that belonged to the old merc he grew up with since he was a kid and it’s the only thing he has to remember him by but the battery on it died long ago and one of the gears was out of place. Jela took it to a guy he knew from when he worked as a guard for a caravan for a few weeks when he first got to Boston and had it fixed to the point where it looked brand new. He gave it to him and taught him how to tell the time correctly. He never takes it off.

♥ Skyrim: It took months of searching, bribes, and he spent about 75% of the gold he had saved up for emergencies but eventually Jelani found the thief that had stolen Angelus’s ring that belonged to his mother and on Angelus’s birthday he gave it to him. Needless to say, that elf cried all night long. That ring is the only thing he had to remember his mother by and when it was stolen he was devastated and didn’t think he’d ever see it again.

(06) What is the most romantic thing that has been done for your OC?

♥ Oracle: Uh…this is kind of ugly but before he got together with Angelus Jela had a boyfriend that was a pretty abusive piece of shit. Started small and escalated, he wore him down to the point where he could pretty much do anything to him and get away with it + this was during a time where something happened and he was pretty vulnerable and the guy took full advantage. The others found out and intervened so when Jela decided to break it off shit got violent…REALLY VIOLENT. He got obsessive and wouldn’t let Jela break up with him so he pretty much beat the shit out of him to the point of him breaking one of Jela’s arms and followed that up with other shit. He was completely unresponsive for two weeks. After that he told Loke what happened so Loke, Angelus and Trevor found the ex and let’s just say there was barely anything left to bury. Angelus stayed with Jela who pretty much secluded himself to the bed and didn’t leave except to shower. He just slept. He barely ate, didn’t get out of bed, was a crying mess and didn’t say anything though he didn’t have to. He and Angelus have a very good level of understanding and communication that both understand without the need to verbally communicate sometimes. Angelus dealt with everything while Jela was in that state, he wouldn’t let anyone except for Loke go near him. He was basically his own personal guard dog for weeks until he started talking again and then slowly moving. Jelani had long been in love with him but this just solidified his feelings for him and that was the same year Angelus confessed to Jelani that he was in love with him and the rest is history.

♥ Fallout: It was that day that he had that massive breakdown. Even after Jelani told Angelus everything that had been done to him and everything he went through and even after seeing all he did to himself he still stayed beside him. He remembers Angelus sitting him down at Power Noodles and getting some food for him, himself and for Dagny and sitting in silence. He was so thankful he didn’t ask about the cuts and scars all over his arms and even after everything he stayed over and even kept him company at night after he asked and didn’t try anything even though he was very well aware that Angelus wanted to. That’s pretty much the day he fell in love with him.

♥ Skyrim: Angelus fought off a horde of vampire hunters by himself after they had stopped to verify if Jelani was a vampire (there had been a growing number of checkpoints in the area). When out in public he usually uses a powerful enchanted necklace that conceals any and all visual signs of vampirism. He’s usually pretty chill when confronted but this time he was dealing with some very rowdy hunters and a fight broke out and the necklace was snatched from him and the illusion spell wore off. He tried fighting them back but they were carrying silver weapons and they almost killed him but Angelus intervened and managed to kill the group and brought him back home just in time. He spent every minute beside him until he recovered.

(07) How successful is your OC at flirting with others?

♥ Oracle: Pretty successful.

♥ Fallout: He used to be before that particular event happened.

♥ Skyrim: Not at all, he doesn’t actually even try to be honest.

(08) What is your OC’s dream marriage proposal?

♥ Oracle: I’m gonna be honest, he always thought/knew he was the one that would be doing the proposing which in fact is how it happened.

♥ Fallout, Skyrim: Something very intimate and private. He’s not one for attention and displays. As long as it’s honest and he can see that there was thought put into it he’s more than happy.

(09) What is your OC’s favorite small way to show their love?

♥ Oracle: Checking in on a loved one. Sometimes it’s the small things that mean way more than some grand gesture. Plus it opens up so that if someone needs to talk about something they can.

♥ Fallout: Hugs. For almost a year he hated the feeling of someone else touching him, even if the person meant no harm, he was automatically repulsed by the feeling of someone else touching him. To him it felt like being poked with hot needles over and over again and after he met Angelus and he respected his boundaries and asked if he could touch him he started to let his guard down around him, then eventually with other people. Angelus is constantly hugging him but he makes sure it’s okay to do so first so that really helped him get over his phobia of being touched.

♥ Skyrim: Little indirect touches. Like both him and Angelus are sitting close and their shoulders are touching, or both are lying in bed and one has a leg on the other’s leg, a momentary touch as they move around the manor or anywhere they’re at, somehow both ending up in each other’s arms in the middle of the night as they sleep.

(10) What is your OC’s favorite big way to show their love?

♥ Oracle, Fallout, Skyrim: Honestly? Sex. Yes, it can be trivial but when it’s with someone he cares about it takes on an entirely different meaning especially when it involves a lot of complex emotions. The act of being completely exposed with someone he cares about in his most vulnerable state is pretty big. Not to mention there are a lot of acts he will only do/have done on/to him that take a lot of trust. The more out there practices that he allows someone else to do to him are because he 100% trusts that person and trusts them not to intentionally hurt him.

(11) What do others love most about your OC?

(I’m assuming it’s other characters ‘cause if it’s actual people I’m shit outta luck with this OC)

♥ Oracle, Fallout, Skyrim: First of all, his loyalty to people. Even if you fucked him over he’ll help ‘cause it’s just the right thing to do and he can be a bit petty but not that petty. He’ll gladly put his own life on the line to help someone else, even if he barely knows the person or like I said fucked him over he will. He’s selfless to a fault. He’s always the first to volunteer to help out no matter how small or huge the problem is. He’s always clear and precise about his intentions and makes sure others are comfortable. I know I talk up a storm about how overprotective Loke is but the truth is Jelani is just as overprotective, maybe even more due to his inability to cope with people he cares about dying. If it’s a choice between him dying and someone else dying it’s a no brainer for him he’ll always pick the former. He’s like a walking cheerleader, he’ll always cheer you on and be 100% supportive of anything you wanna do or try out. He’ll put his own needs aside to help someone else with anything. He’ll be honest and offer any help you need but he’ll find that perfect balance between sugar-coating something and being truthful ‘cause honestly sometimes we need someone in our lives that’s straight with us without being an asshole about it and he’s that friend. He’d rather see the good in others before being full of pessimism but he isn’t a naive idiot either. He’s super chill to be around, if you wanna just sit in silence he’s totally up for that, if you wanna drive around listening to music he’s all for it, if you wanna be a total jackass he’s up for that too. When you’re feeling down in the dumps he will absolutely show up to your place, clean everything from top to bottom, make sure you drink water and will make you several meals so you can just focus on feeling better and will text every few hours to make sure you’re okay, eating and drinking water. Did I mention that he’s a teddy bear of a person that just loves to help and see others thrive and be happy already?

(12) What do you love most about your OC?

♥ Oracle, Fallout, Skyrim: Dude, at the risk of sounding like a jackass…of all the OCs I’ve ever come up with he’s the one I’m most proud of, the one I’m most enamored with. And at the risk of making someone reading this cringe hard he’s equal parts me. All of my OCs have parts of me in ‘em but Jelani and Angelus are me in so many ways. They’re past versions of me, they’ve evolved and changed with me, they’re both better versions of me. Both of them are versions of myself I wish I had the strength and courage to be. I live vicariously through both of them. In every aspect. Jelani means the entire world to me, there’s a reason he’s the “mascot”, the default for every video game you can create a character in. I learned and corrected so many horrible writing and world building mistakes with and through him. This man lives in my head 24/7 and has helped me in ways I don’t even dare say outloud and I love everything about him.

(13) How does your OC show their love to those that are not their partner(s)?

♥ Oracle, Fallout, Skyrim: By helping as much as he can with anything he can. Even if he can’t do it himself he’ll find some way to make sure someone gets the help they need. Even if he’s going through shit he’ll find some way to set his own shit aside to help someone. He’ll try his hardest to be there for someone that needs it.

(14) Does your OC have any romantic traditions?

♥ Oracle: He makes sure to make some time so that he and Angelus can get away for a month. As much as he loves his friends and family he’s constantly surrounded by them and his place always has people over which makes it a little hard to have some privacy as a married couple. So every so often, depending on things, he’ll take his husband and both will just go away, just the two of them for a month. He makes sure to make time for his family, his friends, his job and you can be damn sure he’s gonna make time for his husband and gods help you if you disturb his time with his husband. Anniversaries are always planned out weeks or even months ahead and he kinda tends to go overboard with them but it’s fine ‘cause Angelus loves every second of it and they get to have a lovely day together.

♥ Fallout: He and Angelus have only been together for around four months so there isn’t really much time to develop traditions per say. However, before going to bed they like to go on the roof and watch the stars, if the weather permits, for a while.

♥ Skyrim: Angelus likes to take a nap during the day so that when Jelani wakes up at sundown he can go with him to feed. It started when vampire hunter patrols became almost a plague but Angelus has kept up with it.

(15) What is your OC’s favorite type of Valentine’s Day candy?

♥ Oracle: Those cute little milk chocolates in the shape of hearts. He just thinks they’re really cute.

♥ Fallout: There’s an older lady in the Murkwater settlement that bakes cakes in the shape of a cute heart. Jelani walked over and got two of them, gave one to Angelus and both ate their little cakes after dinner while watching the night sky and drinking Nuka-Starlight (mix of quantum and cherry).

♥ Skyrim: …he can’t eat candy anymore…HOWEVER, Angelus has bought several heart shaped bottles and fills them with blood infused with different sweet flavors like honey, sugar and others.

(16) What is your OC’s ideal first date?

♥ Oracle: Honestly? Like really, really honestly? Take him to a bookstore, let him just manifest himself and watch him spend an ungodly amount on books he’ll go through in less than four months and then take him out for sushi and he’s all yours.

♥ Fallout: He likes exploring ruins so take him to a ruin. The older the better.

♥ Skyrim: Take him out for a stroll near a meadow or a river or lake, hiking up a mountain, visit a grove or a clearing, a forest–anything involving nature.

(17) Could your OC fall in love with someone they’ve never met in person?

♥ Oracle, Fallout, Skyrim: Sure, why not?

(18) Does your OC have a “type”?

♥ Oracle: Oh, yeah. Werewolves! And the more femme the better.

♥ Fallout, Skyrim: Honestly no.

(19) How highly does your OC value love (platonic, romantic, or otherwise)?

♥ Oracle, Fallout, Skyrim: Love is very high up there. It's seriously important. It fuels so much and can even be the one thing to help you come back from even the worst and darkest of places. At least that's how he sees it.

(20) How does your OC feel about public displays of affection?

♥ Oracle: He's 100% up for it. The way he sees it, if the straights can feel safe doing it then so can he.

♥ Fallout: He's actually okay with it. He can be a little reserved but as time passes he relaxes more.

♥ Skyrim: He's a bit shy but he's fine with it.

(21) Does your OC believe in love at first sight?

♥ Oracle, Fallout, Skyrim: Yes, he does.

(22) How often does your OC read romantic literature?

♥ Oracle, Fallout, Skyrim: Never. It’s really not his thing.

(23) What is your OC’s favorite nice thing to do for themselves?

♥ Oracle: Stay at home, read a book while Angelus lies on him while they cuddle each other.

♥ Fallout: Going out to the camp around a warm fire, resting his head on Angelus’s lap as he scratches his head while he reads a book out loud so Angelus can hear it.

♥ Skyrim: Falling asleep on Angelus's arms.

(24) How does your OC determine that they’re attracted to someone?

♥ Oracle, Fallout, Skyrim: If he spends more than 10 to 15 minutes thinking about that person then he's already interested.

(25) Does your OC believe in soulmates?

♥ Oracle, Fallout, Skyrim: Yes, he does! He absolutely does and he loves the entire idea of it. It’s so comforting to him to see it, feel it and experience it.

(26) Is your OC ever the first to say “I love you”?

♥ Oracle: Most of the time. Yeah. However, with Angelus it was different. It was actually Angelus who said it. He’d been dying to say it for well over 100 years but he didn't think he was interested in him so he never did.

♥ Fallout: Not usually. However, it was kinda different with Angelus. The first time they had sex he’d been having a lot of different feelings about him, plus he was feeling extremely vulnerable and sensitive. Mix that with the fact that he felt safe enough with him to have sex with him so in the heat of the moment he blurted it out. He got really flustered after he said it but as usual Angelus was very sweet and caring not to mention relieved ‘cause he’d been dying to say it but he didn't wanna pressure him.

♥ Skyrim: No, he’s a little too shy to be the first to say it.

(27) How does your OC typically spend their Valentine’s Day?

♥ Oracle: They do a little something different each year. Either something big and extravagant or something a little simple. Regardless of what they do, the point is to be together.

♥ Fallout: What I mentioned a few questions back. Jela gets the two little cakes, mixes some Nuka-Starlight and after dinner watch the stars as they eat the cakes, drink the soda and spend the night together.

♥ Skyrim: Angelus wakes him up with breakfast in bed. The cute bottles I mentioned before. They spend a few hours in bed. Then when the sun goes down they head down to a meadow where they have a little picnic by moonlight.

(28) What is something unconventional that your OC thinks is romantic?

♥ Oracle: Okay, so this is Jelani's most favorite thing. Ever! The apartment has three rooms: main, guest and a third they turned into the gaming room. All the consoles, obnoxiously giant tvs, pcs and such are in there. What else is in there? A corner reserved for Angelus's drawing stuff. His tablets, laptop, inks, pencils–everything he uses is there. There's also a big ol’ bean bag. Whenever the mood strikes him to draw he goes there so Jelani takes a book or two with him, pushes the bean bag next to him, sits and reads. Both of them are just doing their own thing without saying a single word to each other, somehow finding a way to touch one another and just being in each other's company.

♥ Fallout: Jela’s been teaching Angelus how to read and write as well as managing firearms. This lends itself for some bonding time that both of them really enjoy.

♥ Skyrim: So Loke has a garden where he grows some pretty rare herbs, roots and plants and in a corner of said garden he has some flowers that were his parents’s favorites as a way to keep their memory alive. But sometimes he’s so busy he barely has time to tend to the garden and a lot of those plants and herbs die. So Jelani has taken to bringing them back to life. What's the point of being a necromancer if you don't put it to good use? Angelus found out and has taken to helping Jelani in tending to the garden. It's kind of a thing they do and bond over while trying their best not to get caught.

(29) What is your OC’s favorite love song?

♥ Oracle: I don't know any love songs. I am being so serious right now, I really can't think of any. This ain't on the character, it's on me lol.

♥ Fallout: One More Tomorrow. It’s corny as shit and sappy and he knows it but after he had a massive break down and asked Angelus to sleep with him (as in keep him company, not as in fucking) the first song he heard the next morning was that one and for the first time he really listened to the lyrics and the first person he saw that morning was obviously Angelus and since then that song is like very soothing.

♥ Skyrim: N/A (there aren’t any songs outside of Ragnar the Red and The Dovahhkin Comes. How am I supposed to work with that??????)

(30) What is your OC’s favorite romantic movie?

♥ Oracle: Oh, no, no that’s not his thing but if I was to say something I guess you could say “The Fountain”.

♥ Fallout, Skyrim: N/A

[echantedtoon]

Blooming Friendships Ch6 The Man In The Moon

It was a quiet night. Except for the chirping of crickets. A gentle breeze swept through the cool air, and stars shone. Even though it was a peaceful night, not everyone was sleeping peacefully. Two eyes were wide awake enjoying the beautiful wonders of nature and all it had to provide to the silent melody of it's mistress the night and all her dark beauty as the world slumbered in her wake. On a normal day it would look so much different. Sunny. Birds singing. The world was filled with the happy screaming of children as they played and couples walked too and from down the paths or having picnics in the sunshine......Or it would have been if this forest wasn't haunted by vengeful ghosts and cursed on top of it. Not that she minded. She loved this forest how it was. If she wasn't living in her own magical hot spot this might've been a good place to live without unwanted attention. Her footsteps only adding to the magical melody taking place from her as they walked along the trees glimmer with dew from that morning fog.. The reflections shining like the stars themselves mirroring walking in some forbidden heaven of the night for them both. The wind blown around her and she shivered rubbing her body against a tree to keep up body heat to not catch a cold. Hopefully it'll work. The light reflected off of her eyes making it seem like they shined brighter than the world around them as she walked about looking past things. The glowing mushrooms and moon above being her only source of light in the darkness as she carried about her. Over her shoulder a bag of magical things like stones, herbs, plants, and other natural magical specialties one could only find right here in this forest. Luckily for her there was plenty to go around.

Subcon Forest was not a place for just anyone to enter and exit as they please. There was a reason these woods had such a feared reputation and was rumored to be haunted. Because it was. By the King Snatcher of Subcon(as he liked to refer to himself) and his ghastly assortment of minions and dwellers behind him as his undead army, anyone who went in NEVER came out which added to the entire terror of it all!!...Well no one except a woman who were currently carrying baskets full of all kinds of cursed plants from within the borders of the ghastly forest that no mere mortal ever dared to come in. ..Besides a select few who had the Ghost King's blessing or who just didn't fear him of course.

"Thank you so much for helping me collect all these ingredients. I swear some times they can be so hard to find. Good thing you know you're way around here huh?," the witch expressed with gratitude as copper eyes smiled over towards the ghost next to her.

Shackles clanked as ever as the crescent headed ghost smiled and placed a hand on his chest. "But of course. I couldn't just let a young lady wonder all by her lonesome here in the dark forest. Snatcher may not see the reason but I refuse to let the one lady who actually keeps me company to be at risk of any danger!"

That earned him a stream of chuckles and a smirk from the witch as she reached out to poke his side. "Oh? What a gentleman.~ Not a lot of woman can say that a ghostly prince walked with them on a moonlit night walk to protect her. If I didn't know better I'd say this was romantic, Moony.~"

The ghost paused letting the words of hers sink in before coughing and looking the other way. "A-Absolutely not! It's o-only right a gentleman escort a lady where she n-needs to go-"

"Relax you old man. I was only teasing you. I really appreciate you helping me find all these herbs. I get lost here so many times it's not funny. Always have to teleport my way out."

"....*ahem* W-Well of course. I'm always happy to lend a helping hand where I can. It's also good to have company for once who I can speak to so easily unlike Snatcher and some other people I know who shall not be named."

She nodded as they continued to walk through the woods. Coming across a small space of abandoned buildings old, worn, and looking like they'd collapse any moment if they even to dare touch them.

"Isn't it getting near morning though? We've been at this for a long time. You might disappear on me into the atmosphere." They passed by a couple of the buildings now. Their voices echoing around the dark buildings and disturbing someone awake in one building.

"Yes. It is. But I would rather stay until I'm forced to leave. I like accompanying you around, and we're nearly to the forest's edge as it is. I'd feel better knowing I can leave you at a safe point-"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-"

As a scream pierced the air both jumped at the sound that sliced through the night's fog like a knife. The scream echoing around, sounding young. Vulnerable. Small. And like a-....The sound still ringing loud and clear as they both stood frozen in their places as it continued. Until they eventually looked at one another as the noise continued.

"I say. D-Do you hear that?"

Hazelle nodded. "I most certainly do." With a turn of her head, she looked towards one building in particular and pointed. "It sounds like it's coming from there." And she started walking towards it.

"H-Hazelle!," Moonjumper warned holding out an arm towards her disappearing form. "Wait! It's not safe in these old ruins! That house collapse on you!"

"Then be my protector and follow me!," she called back not stopping and still walking away from him towards the crying noise. "Sounds like someone's lost. We should help them don't you think?"

Moonjumper said nothing as he watched her before sighing and floated off after her. His shackles clanking as he did. Hazelle was able to disappear from sight before him. Walking into one of the abandoned buildings through a whole in the wall's side most likely from decay from all the years it stood abandoned. And slowly he followed her into it. Inside ..had seen better days to put it lightly. The wooden floors and walls were a dark grey or black from years of decay and being exposed to Subcon's cursed magic. The whole place creaking from the wind blowing, speaking of the wind. It definitely flowed through the entire home making an eerily howling noise as it did. Old furniture broken beyond repair and also decaying by how they looked. He slowly floated out of the big room he went through which he must've guessed must've been a living room judging from the decayed shelves and crumbling fireplace. The fireplace a mere pile of crumbling stones by now. The noise that was present when Hazelle entered no longer having stopped soon when he floated in.

"Hazelle?," he called out looking around the place shackles clanking. "Where did you go, My lady?"

"In here!,'' her voiced called out a few rooms away, "You might wanna come here and see this. You're not going to believe it."

She does know she was speaking to a ghost right? He followed her voice past the room to a hallway of sorts where he passed a decaying and absolutely destroyed flight of stairs. Well she can't be up there unless she teleported her way there. Instead he moved past that towards the nearest doorway where he heard the faint sound of-...Sniffling?? Raising a brow, Moonjumper floated right over to the doorway and looked inside. Hazelle was there alright. The witch's back was to him, and the bag of plants and other things she had been carrying left on the floor. With the way her arms were positioned it looked like she might've been holding something in her arms. Hearing the sounds of clanking shackles the witch turned her head to him and smiled seeing him standing there in the doorway. Before turning around completely with that looked like a blanket bundle cradled in her arms. 

"Oh there you are. ...Uh. What is that you're holding?"

"You're not going to believe this."

She beckoned him to come closer with a free hand and as he slowly came in the same sniffling sounds came from inside the blanket. And did that thing just move!? He froze as Hazelle grabbed the edge of the small blanket and pulled it back. And what was inside SHOOK  the ghost. A-A-...A baby....THERE WAS A PECKING LIVING BREATHING BABY IN THAT BLANKET!! But strangely that wasn't the weirdest part. The pale skinned boy sniffled and blinked up at the both of them with big purple eyes and dark black hair. At seeing the witch and ghost looking down at him, his head tilted curiously back at them. But that wasn't what was strange. What WAS strange was the fact that his face..Was COVERED in glowing blue markings that lit up his body in the dark. There was a couple of them. Glowing blue lines. One over his nose, two lines under each of his eyes, two jutting up from his chin, and a peculiar swirl like symbol on his forehead. And all were glowing. Even now he could feel the magical aura filing out from this child in the same way Hazelle's magical essence did. Which meant that whoever this child was...He was certainly special. Moonjumper stared long and hard at the child who now seemed calm being in the arms of Hazelle. Before he pointed to him.

"What....is that?"

"A baby. What ELSE would it be?"

"Y-Yes. I know. But WHY is there a baby here?" He looked around the dark and grim looking room. "And in such a sorry state of a house of all places?'' 

Hazelle shrugged. "I haven't the foggiest idea. You think someone lives here?"

In response to her question Moonjumper gave a careful look around the room. There was ...well nothing here except one or two pieces of old broken furniture. "...Where did you find the baby?" She stepped aside and pointed her free hand down to the absolutely empty corner behind her. THAT empty cold corner in just a blanket? That couldn't be healthy for it. In fact..it doesn't look like anyone's been here for a long time."This house is pretty worn out. Seems like people were living here before Snatcher came in. Or maybe they were still alive when Snatcher arrived and ...you know. He's crazy like that. But no one could possibly be living here. There's no signs of food. No water. Not even a small shelter set up." He looked back down to the baby who nommed on a chubby hand. "And he certainly isn't as old as the rest of the house! Who would leave a defenseless child here!? Unless......" A look of realization struck him as he frowned. "Unless someone left him here on purpose."

....Hazelle shook her head. "I don't know. But maybe he's not abandoned." She waved a finger in front of the baby's face and he latched onto it. "Maybe whoever he belongs to just left him here to get food or something."

"Hm. Possibly. But why not just bring him with them especially in Subcon forest? In fact WHY Subcon Forest? This place is renowned far and wide as extremely dangerous. Unless whoever they were was in big trouble or extremely foolish, I doubt anyone would risk coming in here. More so with an infant!"

"....Well then guess I'll have to wait and find out." Hazelle with that carefully sat down still holding the baby in her arms and sighed leaning her back against the wall to get comfortable. 

Moonjumper rose a brow. "You CAN'T be serious."

"Why not? If whoever it was comes back they might need help. Besides, I can't just leave a baby here. Would you?"

"I-...Well no! But what if whoever it is is dangerous? You could be in big trouble."

"Hey. No big deal. I've dealt with both you and Snatcher before. I can take care of myself. Besides you'll just be forced back into the Horizon any minute now. I'll give them twenty four hours. If they don't come back then, I'll ask Snatcher. Maybe he'll know something we don't."

...Moonjumper sighed. "I sure hope you know what you're doing, Hazelle."

Soon the first rays of light hurt the world and as expected Moojumper dissipated into glitchy cubs disappearing back into the green paranormal world of the Horizon. And Hazelle made herself comfortable just sitting back there leaning against the wall, legs crossed, one hand behind her head, and pushing her hat over her eyes to give them a rest from the sunlight. All the while the baby laid snug against her body. At one point she fell asleep for a few hours having been up the night before but being a light sleeper meant she would've heard someone come in and be up in an instant. ...And no one came. Not when the sun came up. Not when the sun hit noon. Not when the sun set came. And definitely not when night fell. And there Hazelle laid patiently in the same position except now that the baby was asleep in her arm safely without a care in the world. Until that is when the familiar sound of shackles came, and Hazelle pushed her hat up to meet the eyes of Moonjumper who had once again appeared before her being night again. The ghost had stood there staring at them, not really surprised to see the baby still with Hazelle. But he had hoped that whoever was responsible for the little tyke would return to claim the baby and even leave the forest. In had been on his mind all day making his metaphorical stomach sink and his worst thoughts were confirmed as soon as he appeared. His crestfallen face mirroring his thoughts.

"Anything?," he asked even though he already knew the answer.

Frowning Hazelle shook her head no. "No one. Not even a ghost. And I've been sitting here on my butt all day."

"Well judging by how he's been found here, he was probably here for longer than you were. Face it Hazelle. No one's coming back for him."

"Timmy."

Moonjumper blinked. "Pardon?"

"Timmy. His name's Timmy."

"And how do you know that?"

Hazelle answered him by pulling a corner of the blanket up for him to look at and embroidered with dark blue thread into the blanket was letters. T. I. M. M. Y. Timmy. "I found this little clue right here."

"You know that might not even be his real name."

She shrugged before carefully pushing herself off the wall and standing up. "It's the only thing we got going for us right now and it's better than calling him 'it'." Well..she had a point. She reached back over and carefully lifted her bag back up and threw it over her shoulder. "Well I gave them a whole day to show up. Now there's just one person to see if they know anything about this here."

"You don't mean-"

"Snatcher yes. You're free to wait back while I go ask him." She said before beginning to walk out of the abandoned house.

Moonjumper watched as she left just floating there before sighing and floating after her. Might as well see how this played out. Too say it was less than ideal was putting it lightly. It took them a little while to get to said purple ghost's tree house and Snatcher was...Well. Irritated and angry as usual, especially seeing Moonjumper there of all people but luckily it seemed that him being thrown off completely seeing Hazelle holding an infant was enough to spare Moonjumper from his wrath. But it was followed by Snatcher demanding what was going on, them explaining the details to him, and then when they asked-....Snatcher. Knew. Nothing. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Turns out there's no traps or minions of his in that area of the forest being so close to the edge of the forest so even if someone snuck in, Snatcher wouldn't have been alerted to any intruders. So someone could've easily slipped in and out without Snatcher noticing they were even there. He didn't even know the child was even there until he was brought to his attention. Which left them nothing, and Snatcher wasn't any help when he huffed and left them with it.

"Whatever. Just get it out of my forest!"

Tch. Typical reaction of Snatcher's, but what was he expecting from him? Which left now him and Hazelle in the presence of the child without any idea where he came from and most likely abandoned, and no idea what to do with little Timmy apparently.

"What now?," he has asked after a while. "We can't just put him back, and Snatcher's no help as usual."

Hazelle hummed letting the now awake baby nom on the edge of his blanket curiously. "I know. It'd be crueler than leaving him alone in the first place. ...*sigh* It's not uncommon for people who're afraid of magic or who just don't want to deal with it to abandon those children I'm afraid. I guess Timmy's just another one of those people with that sad fate."

Abandoned for something he didn't even know or had done. He knew that feeling all too well. This baby and him were practically parallels having been betrayed by people who were supposed to love you and protect you...Now they were all alone...Or- He looked at the small giggling child. Or WERE they? Hazelle blinked as he reached right over shackles clanking and picked up the baby from her arms and turning to cradle him in his own arms...He couldn't change his own fate, but he could certainly change Timmy.

"Well then it's decided. I shall care for him."

"What?," Hazelle asked raising a brow and placed her free hand on her hip. "You can't be serious."

"And why not? I wouldn't mind the company. And as ghosts don't need sleep I can give him around the clock care. Besides, I...I-I've always wanted a child when I was alive."

Hazelle's expression turned to one of pity before she sighed. "I get that. But DO you know how to take care of a baby? Especially one with magic obviously?"

He stammered. "I- Well...N-No. But Timmy's worth the effort and besides...Maybe you could help?"

"Moony. I didn't sign up to become a replacement mother."

"Oh come now Hazelle. I would be doing most of the work anyways. All I need is some help and someone to teach me please?" He held up the giggling baby to him more with a smile melting on his face. "Besides...This might just be what he needs. A loving home with people who know about magic and won't abandon him. Please?"

The witch stared at the ghost for a long moment as some kind of thoughts whirled about her head before sighing. "Fine! But I hope you know what you're getting into."

A bright and fanged smile speared across the old ghost's face before he looked down to the giggling baby in his arms. "Well little one." He offered a hand towards the baby who cooed and looked at it as a string appeared from his finger tip only to gently wrap itself around his small hand. "I promise as long as your under my protection nothing shall ever happen to you again." The baby giggled at the display before looking back up to the smiling ghost. "I promise."