#since it’s a reference to him wrapping his magic with his tail | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ikemenomegas · 2 years ago

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Anchor (up to me love)

Eleven days late, but this is my first entry for Mermay (can we call it June-aid then?) Thank you all so much for your patience. This is the longest one-shot I have written to date and while I'm not completely satisfied with it, I'm proud enough of finishing it. Of course the title references the song by Novo Amor

pairing: Mermaid!Uchiha Sasuke x Reader

word count: 10,014

cw: mentions of drowning, description of wounds, an attempt made at transformation body horror, mentions of death of parents but I couldn't kill Sasuke's entire family again... seemed too cruel to put him in a universe where that happens every single time.

Ao3 link for those who prefer reading there

You heard the thrashing sound first, like an animal caught in a trap, and then you heard the voice, which was far more human.

You knew better than to approach a beast, but on the shores of your own kingdom, you couldn’t in good conscience leave someone to fend for themselves. Especially if they were too injured to drag themselves inland.

The shoreline was studded with sharp stones, broken long ago from cliffs that had since retreated from the sea. They concealed the figure until you were nearly upon him. He was partially submerged, but you could smell the blood, see its thick wash in the water. It turned the foam churned up around him a rusty, raspberry tea color. He groaned, pressing a handful of some shredded fiber to the wound on his chest.

You gasped, involuntary, and he turned, whipped around with teeth bared.

That’s how you saw them: the sharp incisors and all the sharp teeth after that. Inhuman, made to tear. You almost couldn’t believe it, even when you looked below the syrupy, red water and saw the tail, the diaphanous fins drawing in close so it was nearly whip-like, flicking a warning.

You froze, spreading your fingers wide on the stone to show that you carried no weapon in your hands.

“Let me help,” you breathed, unsure whether to retreat, but afraid to appear threatening.

The mer flinched back. There was a ruddy tint to his eyes, which was more apparent depending on the subtle angling of his head. He looked scared, pain flashing across his expression when he moved wrong.

“Why?” he hissed back after a tense pause, strained. His voice was faintly accented, but not really different from the tones of the northernmost islands in the archipelago kingdom to which you belonged.

There wasn’t a good reason, except that something magic and nearly relegated to legend was in front of you and you did not want to see it die, not at the hands of hungry predators. If he had been a man you would have helped him to shore, ran for a doctor, but you didn’t think the creature in front of you would tolerate more human hands.

You tore a strip off the long linen wrapping over your arms and body in a kind of tunic. You poured water from a skin on your hip over the makeshift compress and then passed it to the stranger as a gesture of goodwill. Freshwater drew poison from wounds of the sea.

The mer looked blearily at your outstretched hand and took the cloth. He hissed when it pressed against part of the wound but did not let go, pressing harder until the compress was half stained with his blood.

He eyed you warily. He made another pained noise as he pulled the compress from his torn flesh. It made a horrible wet sound as it pealed away. He held it out for you to pour more water upon it. You did and tore another strip from your clothing for another field dressing.

“There is danger in remaining in the open sea while you heal,” you said softly.

He had bound his wound best he could with pieces of your clothing and the bleeding had eased some, although not much.

He narrowed his eyes as though measuring your intention.

“There's a cove, not far from here. I can show you,” you offered

“Where?” he was demanding but you could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

You sidled carefully around him, angling towards the water.

“We have to swim to get there.”

He nodded, tense but for now acquiescing to the logic in your words.

You carefully tied what was left of your clothing so that no trailing ends risked snagging as you swam and waded deeper into the water. It was warm, but you still shivered at the faint chill against your skin and the mer’s proximity as you slipped into the ocean.

You moved slowly, aware of the mermaid's injuries. It was not a long way to go to the hidden entrance to a place you had discovered years before. You hesitated only for a moment, and then dipped underwater. This put you firmly in the mermaid’s natural habitat. It was, in a way, a show of trust. You dived deeper and deeper, ignoring the pressure in your ears and your chest. The sounds of the mermaid swimming behind you were somewhat unnerving. They were the sounds of a creature both larger and stronger than you in the water, and he was following you. You shook the thought away, moving water with your hands to propel yourself down to the underwater tunnel burrowing between stone and coral and two the protected lagoon beyond.

You pulled yourself through carefully, flicking your feet in small precise motions to avoid drifting into the rough, salt pocked stone. The place you were taking the mer was safe precisely because it was a place difficult to reach both by land and by sea. On land, this bit of coast belonged to the royal family alone; by sea, the pathways through these closely sentried rocks twisted and turned, making a treacherous labyrinth below and a shielding wall above.

You took careful stock of your air. Even though you had been underwater for more than a minute already, this blessing of your noble blood would not last forever. You followed the signs placed long ago to guide swimmers who knew where they wanted to go, and within another handful of minutes emerged into the wide clear waters of an ardent bay.

The slow speed of your only human limbs was perhaps a good thing. The mer following you was visibly exhausted even after what should have been a short journey for him. You led him close to the edge of the water where shallow scoops filled with soft sand and colorful corals and waving fronds of seaweed made comfortable little environments. Too deep for a human to rest in, but it seemed perfect for an injured sea creature.

You pulled yourself up onto the smooth stone bordering the little cove.

“I’ll be back,” you promised.

The mer looked up at you, lines of exhaustion on his face. After a moment, you untied a bracelet from your wrist, made from woven threads of golden sea-silk and three beads, green and red and black strung along it. You offered it to the mer.

“I don’t wish for you to feel trapped here. If at any time you wish to leave, find this color in the wall.” You pointed to the red veined stone. You moved your finger to the black stone and then the green. “Follow the tunnel marked in this order. To return, follow the reverse pattern.”

He reached out for the bracelet, plucking it from your palm without touching your skin.

“I'll come back,” you said once again.

The mer just swished his tail and said nothing to your promise.

You slipped back into the castle, feet bare, hair and clothes dripping.

A strong, musical voice called your name. “How many times have I told you not to track water inside,” Mei said, exasperated.

“I’ll clean it up.”

She sighed. “Aren’t there better things to do with your time?”

You looked blankly back at the trail of droplets and footprints, but your mind was already racing ahead to the things you needed, what you could leave at the lagoon in case it was difficult to return or the mer wanted space while he healed, what kind of books could be in the library, what kind of medicines could work on –

Your sister called your name again. “Are you listening?”

You turned her, half startled.

She sighed again and waved you onward. “Go on.”

She gave you a soft look when you all but beamed at her and continued on your way.

The mermaid’s injury was severe. You spent the next few weeks going down to the lagoon as often as you could. You brought amphorae of fresh water, pots of fresh and salt preserved food - as much fish as you could bring until the mermaid expressed his frustration at the lack of variety and you tried bringing him things from the land, which he seemed to enjoy and eat easily enough - bandages and medicines, sea plants that he instructed you to fetch with imperious expectation, and whatever new knowledge you could scrounge up from the palace library. And what you got in turn was a name.

Sasuke.

It was a beautiful name, you thought, sibilant as the shushing sea, with a bite at the end like cold spray thrown up by a crashing wave. The more days you spent with him, the more obvious his beauty became to you. It was not only a physical attraction, although he made you wish that your skills in the visual arts could properly capture him. If you could paint, you thought you could spend years creating echoes of the way his fins rippled as he moved, a language all their own. After that, you could spend years imitating the gleaming flash of his eyes, as multifaceted as any expert cut stone, dark like lacquer or ink, then lit from within like garnets or rubies.

He was prickly as a lionfish and as curious as a kitten. He never seemed overly delighted when you visited, but if you were gone for more than a day or two, he demanded to know where you had been.

“I have duties to attend to in the castle,” you explained one day. You and Sasuke were taking refuge in the shadow of a cliff as you helped smear a strong, green scented paste on new linen strips with which to bind Sasuke’s freshly washed wound. It still bled sluggishly when exposed, deep as it had been, but it did not seem to be infected.

“You’re not stealing all this stuff, are you?”

You snorted an inelegant laugh. “No.”

He let you help him tie the bandages. Sasuke flicked his tail in such precise movements to stay in place. You didn’t know of anyone who had been this close to a mermaid in decades. The dreamy tales told by sailors carried a wishful magic all their own, but were not likely factual unless there was a mermaid or several sitting clear as day on every spit of land and jut of rock from here to the Land of Whirlpools. All the recorded accounts you had found so far were recollections from those who sailed, who watched at the boundaries of day and night, who weren’t sure what they saw.

“The queen of this country-” you tied the last bandage in a knot that could still be released even once the cloth was swollen with water - “she’s my elder sister. It means I got to grow up in the palace, without everyone paying attention to what I was doing.”

Sasuke went very quiet.

“I know a lot of secret ways in and out.” You glanced up to where the curving roofs of the tallest buildings were barely visible from the cliff upon which it was perched. “And I get to learn anything I want.” There were lots of things you could do that Mei couldn’t, or wasn’t allowed. It wasn’t a bad life. You had always known this. It was just a little lonely.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked the mer.

He propped himself up on the rocks. You could count the faint lines of the gills still left uncovered by bandages on his ribs. They sealed themselves when he was above the waterline for any significant amount of time, which was one of the many fascinating things about him. He looked for all intents and purposes to be ignoring you as he basked on the sun, but his head was tilted towards you.

You pulled a book from within your clothes, flipped back a few pages and then settled against a rock to begin reading out loud.

The next day, you spotted the bracelet you had given him fastened around his wrist.

It had been almost a month when you finally asked Sasuke where his injuries came from. There was no pattern to the wound before, the flesh too torn for you to guess at what had caused it. You had also grown to know Sasuke better in the hours and hours you spent at the site of his convalescence. He carried with him a deep vortex of sadness and anger. It went far deeper than the visible wound.

“I don’t want to explain,” he growled as you mixed a different poultice in a silver dipped mortar. Behind that growl was that vortex, its screaming, all consuming noise.

You had never met someone like this, who had that much hurt inside. It was frightening. You had no idea what it would do to him to touch those memories, but something inside of you told you that you had to know. That not to know would be to miss some vital part of who Sasuke was.

Your fingers stilled on the mortar. “You don’t have to.”

Yet he did not leave. You did not begin to mix the medicine again.

As a child, you had been lost once in one of the terrible typhoons that struck the coast of this kingdom. It had come on suddenly, darkening the sky and obscuring both the path ahead and behind. A strange sound had joined in with the howling winds, almost like singing. Without anything else to give you direction, you had followed the sound until you came to the edge of the sea. The storm had churned the water gray and foamy white and cold, forbidding blue so dark it was nearly black. You had tucked yourself into a cluster of stones and brush, your knees pulled up to your chest. The storm had screamed around you, you were soaked through. Who knew how long you had been out there, but it was long enough that you were convinced that all there would ever be was the shrieking sound of the typhoon and the sideways driven rain. The reprieve of the eye had come on with a sudden silence.

You only realized that you were humming through the memory when the odd look Sasuke was giving you cut through your blank recollections. There were half crushed purple flowers and the variegated green mush of herbs under your hands, their scent in the air, salt on your lips, the soft lap of waves interrupted by Sasuke’s agitated movements, his eyes before you, touched red like the day you’d met him.

He moved forward, warrier than he’d been even on the day you found him. Closer.

And then some spell was broken and with a flick of his tail he vanished. The water barely rippled. A set of perfect concentric rings faded from the point he had been hardly a second before. For the first time, it was overtly apparent that Sasuke had all the marks of a deadly predator, of a monster from the deep. It did not scare you as much as it should have.

All of the books in the palace library said that mermaids were magical creatures, that they had an inborn resilience, speed and strength greater than a human, could breath both air and water, and could sing to charm men off the rocks. But despite all of Sasuke’s strength, he had come to you with a terrible wound that pulled skin and muscle as it healed, and went nearly to the bone. Your own little spells helped the healing process along. You believed that it had likely kept him from dying. It didn’t stop the slow, painful experience from taking over three months before the wound was intact enough to be without bandages for long, for Sasuke to swim with only a small wince as he turned.

You were removing the last of the linen wraps when Sasuke spoke in a low voice. “What do you know of my world? The world beneath the surface.”

You sat back, coiling the length of cloth neatly on the pile beside you.

There were very old accounts among all of the old documents you combed through in the dead of night as the sea shushed outside the windows. They spoke with an authority that indicated either brilliant enough imagination to include the utterly mundane aspects of formal proceedings, or a realism only gained by being present to witness the comings and goings of powers that were beyond the Land of Water’s borders.

Since Sasuke’s sudden arrival, you had imagined them often, wondered what role he might play. He had a proud bearing that was familiar from interacting with nobility, a precise grace that made you wonder if fighting was a regular occurrence for him, and a casual entitlement that said he was used to getting what he wanted one way or another. But you had seen these things among common folk as well. There were warriors at court from the inland farms or outlying islands who had fought their way through prejudices and more difficult circumstances who had earned every ounce of their pride and poise.

“If it is even a little like what I have read about, it is as complex or more so than the world above, but all our information is very old.”

You could not quite figure out why it stopped. There was a season of the usual terrible storms, and then slowly, nothing but supposed myths.

“But in my world, I have seen assassinations, and diplomatic disasters, and houses nearly wiped from the map.” The last words nearly broke on your tongue. All of these things had happened to your family, but you and Mei had survived it.

Sasuke carefully rotated his shoulder, looking thoughtful while he prodded at the new skin on the edges of the wound.

“You’ve fought for your life, before,” he said.

“Yes.” It was all you could say. Sasuke wasn’t asking. You didn’t know how he knew. Even Mei kept the details of your survival quiet. Not exactly secret, but the information was no longer shared frequently and few people would even think to ask. The Queen was the center of your scattered island nation. But your sister was the most important person in your life, the only family you had left. You would do anything for her, even though she could not do everything she might want to for you.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

You told him the memories that had sprang to mind and others – of those terrifying nights with the handle of a knife clutched in your fist, picking out paths by starlight, first with your father, and then with guards, and then alone until Mei, barely sixteen herself, had found you.

Sasuke drifted out of arm’s reach as you told the story that you had never told anyone. There had never been any need. The only one who knew almost every detail had lived through it with you, and neither of you spoke of it, even when the burden of ruling weighed heavily on her shoulders. You would sit side by side with a pot of tea cooling between you, and the question What would our parents do? hovered between you, unspoken.

He watched you narrowly, like some kind of magistrate, weighing every word. If you were younger, it would have filled your blood with ice cold fury. Who was anyone else to judge the impact of your experience?

Now, the words poured from your like water from a spring. You weren’t sure why, except that you knew that in order to know someone, sometimes you had to be known. And Sasuke would not stay in this tiny lagoon forever. He was restless in his healing. You already suspected that he was roaming beyond the bounds of the lagoon, following the secret pathways and tunnels carved through the rocks and going invisibly along the coast where you had found him.

Mei’s rise to her position had not been a triumphant, immediate affair. As little as three years ago, there had been assassins in your room, then blood on your hands, dripping to your wrists. You had left a trail of lopsided, tacky footprints as you had run, silent and with a denying scream in your chest, disguised as a low and continuous, thundering growl, to Mei’s wing, only to find her in a similar state, hair disarrayed, wearing only the web-worked armor she almost never took off and her most trusted student, Chojuro, with a freshly headless corpse at his feet.

Sasuke’s delicately webbed hands periodically flexed closed, betraying his feelings. The bony ridges on the knuckles stuck out only barely, and his quick growing claws were tucked away, but it made the protective feature on his hands more noticeable. Maybe because even with the translucent membrane halfway up his fingers, his hands were no less dextrous than yours. It was easy to forget the ways in which he was built to defend himself.

So, it was no short, victorious tale. This was not the version sung by performers across the archipelago, of the powerful queen in her castle by the sea who weeded out the violence sowed by the fallen kings of the last two generations, who raised islands from the ocean itself.

You left this part out, but there are never any songs about you. You are always and only the last princeps iuventutis, by the side of the queen. You were content enough, being a player at her side, but it had made you realize more than once that no one realized that you had also lived through what it had taken to restore Mei to the throne.

The shadows had shortened significantly by the time you finally trailed into silence. Sasuke seemed… it was difficult to tell through the haze of your own emotions. You felt dizzy from the telling, stunned.

When Sasuke began speaking, it was as though every word was torn from him, his discomfort palpable. You wondered if his story was also unused to being told.

He told you a story that ended roughly where yours had began, and it made you wince at the way it was like your first taste of loneliness, but echoed and repeated until it was magnified. Humans did not form pods, but they were similar to families, although apparently more central to survival below the waves. They were often related units, but they hunted together, fought together, played together. They were units of power in the few great cities jutting out from the unseen crust of the earth or drifting along among the currents.

Some of them were bound by more, by a strength of affection you might have had a hard time understanding if you did not have Mei and only Mei, and understand what it meant to lose everyone else, to lose all bonds of loyalty and love and never feel safe to make new ones. Mei despaired over your alone-ness. She had Chojuro and old Ao and Kirimi. You haven’t been able to find anyone like that.

Sasuke painted broad strokes first, and then filled in the details, as though he was distracted by the details of his own memories. He talked about the billowing clouds of crimson, like a bloody dawn, in the twisting corals when he returned from his evening studies - he would have been some underwater equivalent of a scholar warrior, his own brother’s confidant and blade, had slaughter not come to his city-kingdom.

The attackers, whoever they were, had set both city and survivors adrift. His brother refused to tell him who the culprits were. He refused to show Sasuke how to return home, driving him back to the open waters in the name of safety each time he came close. And he has come so close.

The part of you that knew intimately how even coming home is never coming home after something like the razing of a city, the killing of all the little things that made a family, understood even though your heart hurt for him. Sasuke had a sharp tongue, thorns, but like those plants with thorns, his barbs guarded something delicate and precious. He had a heart that loved so fiercely and truly that you yourself wanted to receive even a little of that emotion, as though it might spark back to life the cold ash of your own heart.

Sasuke’s brother would not let Sasuke use the skill he developed for tracking to take back that home that was first taken from him. So, he has done the one thing Itachi was not there to stop him from doing, which was to find an answer to the other half of the equation. What had attacked the drifting City of Leaves.

That was where the wounds came from.

The city of Sasuke’s birth followed new currents now, settled into a new and still unpredictable course. Forbidden from it and not knowing who still lived within, Sasuke hunted alone.

He tried to hide it with pride, but you saw that hollowness in him. Even though you understood his brother’s desire to preserve Sasuke’s childhood recollections, to keep him away from the dangers of what you guessed was the ongoing conflict within that hidden city-kingdom, it seemed cruel to condemn him to years of not knowing, of trying to deny him vengeance.

And so he was here.

Victorious, which made you somehow proud of him, but also hurt, which made you hurt for him in a way that was unfamiliar. Sasuke had defeated a mer that could cause water to boil, enabling him to do things like create mud that burned, as well as acid, and made interacting with him a deadly endeavor. It was a testament to his skill that he had survived as far as he had already.

It was not Sasuke’s absent brother’s fault that he could not be in two places at once. So perhaps…

The answer came to you with sudden clarity, over Sasuke’s drifting silence. His gaze had wandered away from you, and now he looked down at the ripples of water as the tiny waves in the hidden cove broke themselves upon him.

“Be with me.”

He looked up at you, sharp and quick and a certain shiver went through him that was utterly inhuman.

A slightly abashed heat rushed through your body at your own sudden boldness. You couldn’t take it back though. You had never been more certain of anything in your life.

Sasuke answered with a sardonic smile. It made you wonder who – if – there were others who had offered themselves as companions. He had a beautiful face by human standards. You didn’t know if it was the same among the mer, but you imagined that his skill and the sheer strength of his will would be valued anywhere. He smiled with sharp teeth and when it felt as though some silent laughter at your expense was finished, he had found the words to cut through whatever small fantasy you had been concocting.

“Will you offer me a life on land where each step is like knives? Where I will never meet one of my own kind again?”

You winced back because you had seen these old stories too. They were not what you thought of in that moment, but they were also not not what you thought of. And the way he said it, you knew if he truly believed there was nothing left, he would leave behind the sea no question and walk on knives the rest of his life to be with you. But you would never want him in real pain. It was why you went towards instead of away from him when you first laid eyes on him.

And you would never ask him to trade one loneliness for another.

“Be as you are-” your voice was shaking “-with me.”

It was as though every star you had followed on those moonless nights as a child were aligning, making out a path for you to follow. They led here.

“Why?” Sasuke asked, demanded. His voice was rough. You had surprised him.

Here you knew to tread carefully, but you were dizzy too with the feeling of finding a way out of a place you had never realized that maybe you could leave.

“I told you what made me this way,” you said. Your voice was rough too. The telling had lodged against some old hurt deep in your spirit and that place which you had once thought a well healed scar seemed much closer to the surface than before he had demanded the explanation.

“I want to hear you say it,” Sasuke said. Your skin prickled in sympathetic fear, because no matter how angry he tried to sound, the truth of his emotion was what you heard.

“I don’t feel at home here anymore,” you admitted, terrified.

“You’ve never lived below the water,” Sasuke replied, harsh but in the sort of way that meant it was the only way he knew to keep his voice from breaking.

“You’ve never lived on land,” you countered. “And besides, we have both survived worse. I would find a way.” For you, you did not say.

He gazed at you, frustrated, unsatisfied, and you knew that you had not yet provided an answer.

You swallowed. The strip of linen was wound tight between your hands, striping your fingers with marks, but you hardly noticed. The truth would tear your heart wide open. But maybe that was what was needed. Wound for wound.

“These months I’ve spent with you… when I’m with you, I don’t feel alone.” What was love after all, but knowing that somewhere in the world, you were not alone?

Sasuke’s throat bobbed, the gill slits between his ribs fluttered as he drew in water, faster, like a land dweller breathing hard.

“It would take magic beyond either of us now to transform.”

But he didn’t deny, did not refuse.

“I’ll find a way.” Your gaze burned into his with the force of your vow.

The faint furrow of Sasuke’s brow smoothed out.

“You can try. I’d help but–” he gestured down at himself, at the raw, spidering wound starring from the center of his chest and bursting again at points across his back.

You shook your head. “Don’t go anywhere,” you entreated. “Not yet.”

He nodded easily. He was well on his way to healing but still not as strong as he had been before battling the gold-tailed heat-creating mer.

“What would you do?” you asked after a moment, habitually inquisitive. There were questions a princeps could ask that a queen could not, but you were also just a tiny bit nosy about things you were curious about.

Sasuke smirked a bit, one corner of his mouth turning up. “We go find a witch.” He put a sound behind the word “witch”, the language of his people, and it sent a warning prickle up your spine.

“Oh,” you agreed quietly. “Don’t do that.”

Sasuke snorted in a pale acknowledgement of the humor remaining in the situation and then went quiet.

It took you five feverish weeks. Five weeks of pouring over manuscripts deeper and deeper in the palace archives, of searching for the faintest scrap of a hint of the kind of magic that would let one of your kind stay underwater for a change you knew would be maybe once in a lifetime. A less focussed part of your mind reworked through what you read to see if any of it could bring Sasuke on land with you, without pain, and not forever, but long enough to give him an unexpected advantage over his still numerous and yet unknown enemies. The second thing did not yield anything that you could use.

Not on land at least. There were holes once you dug deep enough, crawled far enough through the records, where maybe this old magic existed somewhere else and a chance at love did not come with so steep a price.

You had five weeks to realize what you would be giving up. Nothing felt like home, but someone did, and you would be leaving her.

The day you finally found the door to your answer, you crawled into Mei’s bed once nightfall came. You had not done this since you were very small, since before the palace walls were stained with ash and blood. Ash and blood – two of the oldest conduits for great magic.

She hummed, stroked a hand down your back. You could feel her palm through the silk of your pajamas.

“You’ve been busy lately.” She was imitating a song your parents used to use to get the two of you to rest, even when so excited you were fairly swimming through your bedding like a pair of fingerlings.

It was only now, after spending so much time with Sasuke, so much time trying to find every fact you could about something that was supposed to be purely mythical, that you suspected it was the same song, almost exactly. That was another of the gifts a remnant of blood-from-the-sea gave its children.

“There is much of the world to know,” you said.

“Yes,” Mei replied, “There is. Our kingdom is such a small part of it.” She said this thoughtfully, as though recalling all the months and years of struggle to get to this place, to a semblance of peace. “– of the earth and the sea.”

Practice and familiarity kept you from stiffening with suspicion and surprise. Mei’s fingers similarly did not pause in their gentle pass up and down your spine.

She must know. She was the queen and she made it her job to know everything so the betrayal that stole your family would never happen again. It would make things easier. Loving your sister did not always make it easy to tell her what was in the halls of your heart.

“What would you do,” you asked her without change in inflection, “to give me a chance at happiness?”

After a pause, she said: “Anything, last blood of mine.” She pressed a kiss to your brow and then blew out the lights with a blink and flick of her fingers. “Almost anything.”

You went down to the lagoon the next day, at dawn. Sasuke was used to impatience, anticipation. He only looked at you curiously, did not ask if you had discovered the magic you would need. You turned a roll in your hands.

There were things that Sasuke had found he very much enjoyed from the world above. Fruits and vegetables were different, brighter. Bread, which he had never really had before. You brought them all often, trying to show him as many wonders from the surface as possible. He had been well enough to hunt on his own for some time now so it was all you brought unless he wanted something from deep waters, too far away to catch and return within a day.

“I think I found it.”

Five weeks has been long enough to realize that there were things you were going to miss about the land too. Besides Mei. You pinched a corner off the roll and let it melt - butter and yeast - on your tongue.

Sasuke stilled. Or the majority of his body did, the rest of him still drifted and moved like seaweed or the wide fans of coral. “You think?”

“It will be difficult.” Of course it would. This was asking much, and there was always a price for magic. “You’re right. We can’t do it.”

The fins of the left side of his tail dragged, listing deeper into the water before he righted them, showing his otherwise silent dismay. It was still fascinating that his body language – which should be alien and strange – has become easier to read, and so quickly.

“But my sister is the queen of this nation. She has enough magic.”

“Would she do it?” For you, for the both of you, would she change you from a creature of the land to the sea?

You didn’t know. She had said “almost anything”. Would she let you go down to the unknown, into the depths of the sea with only a companion and no promises to bring you home?

Sasuke had edged closer, letting the gentle waves push him to the rocky shore where you leaned down. Your fingers dangled in the water.

He called your name. His voice shook.

“Are you going to break your promise?”

It was at that moment that you realized how much your words had meant to Sasuke. You had been thinking of this as a gamble. Sasuke could get tired of you, he could leave you, he could decide that without any titles or family in the ocean, you were worthless to him. You had slowly made peace with all of this.

As his voice broke on the word break, your resolve became honed to a blade.

“No.” You reached for his face. Your hands cupped his cheeks. You pressed your forehead to his.

“Even my brother–” he choked, on the grief, on the anger, on the long years of being left alone of being told no, Sasuke. I need to do this alone.

Something small, lighter than a pebble but heavier than a drop of water rolled over your fingers and knuckles.

The realization that, yet again, he didn’t have to be alone for most of his life had broken something open inside of him at the threat of abandonment. Again. Sasuke clutched your wrists, not to pull away, but to keep you close. His claws faintly indented against your skin.

You nuzzled against him, closer than you had ever been. He smelled of salt and the sea, and something almost electric, like the air under a thunderstorm.

His tears slowed but did not stop.

You hadn’t found the entirety of the spell, but you knew how to hunt it down, to solve the puzzle of hints and documents until you had the whole picture. One piece of information from the multitudes you had consumed came to you:

The tears of a mer are pearls, used in the magic of transformation, from land to sea.

You cupped his cheek, and caught the fall of his sorrows. You understood what it was to have an elder sibling who could not love you more than her duty but who would try to give you everything regardless, and for it still not to be enough. You knew what it was to be profoundly lonely, to have lost everything and still have that place like a hole through your lungs.

“Wait for me,” you begged. “Wait here and when I have convinced her highness the queen, when I have convinced my sister, I will come to you. And if I cannot, I will go with you anyways and find a way out to sea. As a pirate or a humble sailor, I will find you. For your love I would drown.”

“I do not want you to drown,” Sasuke said, dark eyes fierce and wild and afraid, shimmering in mother of pearl colors with a thin film of tears, but did not otherwise deny you.

You swiped the last few pearls from the corners of his eyes and his cheeks, the water of his tears crystallized to salt and carbonate the moment they hit air. “Three days or five or seven,” you said, “no more, no less.”

He pressed his cheek into your palm. You cupped the pearls in your hands like water until you reached the base of the secret path to the lagoon. Then you folded them into a square of fabric and tucked them into a pouch at your hip.

You clambered up the walls of his sanctuary, elegant as a climbing vine, and were gone.

Mei was sitting upon her throne when you threw yourself at her feet. The stone and wood pattern of the floor was alternating warm and cool beneath your knees and palms. After all of your research, it finally occurred to you to wonder whether that was another subtle nod to the history of the relationship between the beings of the land and the water, between your family and others on the mainland and the clans beneath the waves.

The queen looked down from her seat for a few long, heartstopping moments. You kept your face turned to the floor.

“Go.” She made the soft command and everyone she gave it to sprang to obey. The room rustled with the sounds of their retreat.

“Approach.”

You rose and came closer, tilting your head up slowly, afraid to see her expression.

It was kind, which was as much as you could have hoped for.

You looked around briefly, moving only your eyes while your head was tipped to the floor. The only people left in the throne room besides the two of you were a single minister who seemed to be taking the minutes of the day.

“What is it you have to ask me?” she asked gently.

Suddenly, the enormity of your request stole the air from your lungs.

Your sister gave you several long moments that did not return your ability to form words appropriate to a petition from the court.

“Or –” her voice was harder, more of the queen in it, “– would you like to explain what you’ve been up to for the last six months.”

That was easier, and harder. It was likely the mer lived beyond humans, concealing themselves and their own internal conflicts with relative ease, but you worried about exposing them nonetheless.

Mei called your name with a near sigh, only concealed because this was an official meeting and her irritations with you didn’t need to go on record. “You have to start somewhere.”

“It’s not my right,” you finally got out, thinking of the whole unknown world you were ready to dive into.

“Then tell me what is.”

You struggled for words and then eventually said, “Has anyone in our family ever encountered something from the ocean? Something difficult to explain.”

Mei leaned back against the carved scenery of the throne. Birds and fish and the long-tailed lemurs from the mountains soared and wound and climbed their way through the wood.

After a pause she offered, “Did you find something near-human, perhaps, in the genealogies?”

A heavy weight fell from your chest, and a wonder took its place.

“You know?”

She did not shrug but the emotion was there as she said, “I am the queen. It is my job to know. Many of the newer family registries were burned during the coup. It was easier when we returned to access some very old ones, which had not been touched in some time.”

“So we did once mix blood with the sea,” you said, half to yourself.

Mei looked at you, and something heavy and sad entered her eyes. You met that gaze, heart in your throat. Then she shook herself, and that emotion passed.

“Ask your question,” she said once again.

“Would you let our line join blood to blood with the water again?”

Mei’s green eyes were fathomless as the sea.

Sasuke waited, three days and then five and then seven and on the first dawn hour of the seventh day, a slow entourage of elegantly dressed people made their way carefully down to the lagoon.

First came a tall woman in a blue gown and red herringboned hair with a look about her that said she had survived much. With her was a dark robed man with heavy beads around his neck, a woman carefully juggling a portfolio of papers, and another man with a broad, heavy sword in his hands. And amidst them all was you, dressed as simply as a sailor in a billowing cotton shirt and loose, tied breaches.

A wreath of silver kelp blades was woven in the red haired woman’s hair so Sasuke assumed she must be the queen you spoke of, your sister.

She knelt down by the water and arranged her skirts as carefully as any selkie. Over her legs, between the slits in the fabric, glimmered a network of silver armor.

“It has been a long time since one of our people returned to the sea,” she said. “And now you wish to take the most beloved of my few remaining companions away.”

Sasuke lifted his chin. “I take nothing, as the sea takes nothing.”

“No,” the queen murmured, “things are seldom so deliberate, but you are a living, thinking creature, the same as I.”

She held out a hand and drew you down beside her when you placed your hand in hers. She drew you forward until your fingertips touched the water and then let you go.

She beckoned forward the woman with her folio of papers and they were laid out, weighted with polished stones and the leftover parts of dead things from the water, their spines and smooth curved outlines as familiar to Sasuke as their names.

The queen drew her fingers across words which Sasuke was faintly surprised to recognize. The queen noticed because a queen must notice everything.

“Our kingdoms share blood,” she explained slowly, every word precisely dictated. The woman who had spread out the papers slid a brush across a blank sheet, marking the conversation.

“We share language and words and music, although they have grown different from one another over generations.

“I will give you the last golden piece of my heart,” she continued. “But each year you must return, and show to me all is well, with both of you.” Her clever green eyes darted between you and Sasuke. “That is the price of my magic.”

He nodded, once, tight and sharp, and the queen seemed to relax, settling back on the rocks as easy as if they were her own great chair up in the castle with its wing-shaped roofs.

The queen turned to you and called your name so softly, like waking a child from sleep. “This is the first such alliance in more than a century. It will be your responsibility to learn the ways of the water. You will return each year so you do not forget the ways of the land.”

“I understand,” you said.

The queen cupped your cheek and pressed her brow to yours.

She pricked her thumb, scarred from pricking, against one tooth and pressed a bloody thumbprint to the laid out papers with their tiny, perfect letters, and the one still glistening with fresh ink. Sasuke followed her mark, and you after, and then you pulled away from her and lifted the loose shirt over your head.

The loose pants fell in a dark puddle around your feet, and bare, you eased yourself into the water, hands holding the rocks while your feet turned little eddies that hummed against the sensitive scales of his tail.

The man in dark robes pulled an empty wooden bowl from his sleeve. The queen pulled a black lacquered container from hers. The lid came off with a subtle click and inside was barely an inch of shimmering white powder. With a start, Sasuke realized that these were what remained of the tears you had taken with you.

A pinch of the gleaming powder fell from the queen’s fine fingers. She dipped her head and caught her own tear, her own whisper of loneliness into the wooden bowl. She held it out for you and you pressed your thumb and forefinger together until one perfectly mixed drop of blood and salt water fell in the mixture.

The man in dark robes dipped a stick of something that looked like dark polished wood into the bowl and stirred three tines and passed the bowl back to the queen.

She dipped a finger inside and smeared your lips red and the drops fell between your lips like rubies.

Then she moved back on the rocks, eyes both excited and sad, like all those who knew true magic.

Sasuke looked at you, lips red with your own blood and the sheen of his fallen tears and whetted with a queen’s permission.

Between one breath and the next, your eyes went wide and silently, you fell beneath the waves like a spear thrown into the water.

Sasuke dove down immediately, but even with his eyes, you were lost to him in the dark. It should have been impossible. The sandy bottom of the lagoon, though deep and cool and still let in a little bit of light.

With the dawn, even the water shone like it was filling with blood.

You fell alone through streaks of red light, diluting slowly with gold. It was like drowning, like suffocating. The blood on your lips and the tears in your mouth put the savor of grief, the tang of loneliness, the suggestion of life that comes from leaving one place for another on your tongue.

Your ribs ached and your throat ached, like being strangled with a great hand. That hand squeezed and now your legs could only thrash together as one, no more kicking toward an imaginary surface.

The thrum of water - how vast the sea was, how easy to pour yourself into it and let it take you - but no! you must keep your own form, even caught in a fist - it pressed against you like a hundred holy mantras, like the prayers that rose on the day your sister the queen was crowned.

You fought against the weight, struggling against the instinct to hold all air in your lungs. It went quickly stale as your body shifted and twisted, becoming one with the water, the stab of bones realigning. Silvery bubbles escaped your mouth as you writhed, looking for Sasuke, looking for Mei, looking for the surface.

You were sinking slowly, drowning. But as the oxygen seeped from the little air left in your lungs, panic left with it. One could not fight the might of the sea.The salt taste of blood and tears lingered on your tongue. A rippling sensation passed over your skin. You could let it take you, to pull all of you through the endless tide and currents. There would be no leaving, no loneliness, no goodbyes. You would be with Sasuke always, as constant as the sea itself.

Sasuke. Mei.

It was their tears on your tongue. It was they who would have only the formless ocean left to whisper its fathomless stories in their ears.

There was no way to swim far and fast enough to taste air again, but if you did not try, their grief would be wasted.

You fought, trails of bubbles like tiny jellyfish trailing from your nose and the corner of your blood painted mouth. Your ribs ached, but you reached upward towards the slanting sunlight. If you were crying too, you would not know, for your cheeks were wet already, but you felt heat behind your eyes. You thrashed with legs held tight together, felt the catch of the ocean over your skin.

This was it, barely any change to the light and you were out of air but still you struggled. And still you lost as your mouth opened and the last of the bubbles pushing water out of your nose drifted further and faster in the direction you wanted to go, and you breathed in.

It burned like drowning. It is said that the ocean was alike to the blood of living things. It burned like you had swallowed flame, but you still thrashed, kicking your aching, unfamiliar bones together, toward the surface

The ocean tried to swallow you whole because it was a great thing and you were so very small and it had no care for your sorrows or anyone else's. But you did. You cared. You took another gulp of saltwater, pulling toward the surface. Maybe it was growing closer, maybe the water was growing less red.

You clawed and reached and swam, and at some point you realized that you were not drowning, that although your lungs were filled with the heaviness of water, your vision stayed clear to the edges, too clear for underwater, and your kicks were no longer kicks but the thrusts of a mighty tail, and you were indeed seeing the approaching refraction of the sun.

You breached with a leap, your momentum nearly carrying you up and out of the water until you managed to curve back downward in an arc. You sensed rather than saw his surprised backstroke, the way he was swimming near the bottom of the lagoon and surged up to meet you.

He stopped, perfect, with long lashes like a deer’s, dark eyes almost liquid themselves, skin milky as jade. You’d never noticed before the ever so faint patterning of scales, palest purple, that ran along his arms and ribs, even though you’d felt them. He flicked his tail in restless back and forth motion, holding in front of you, not touching.

The magnificent blue and violet of his fins was tucked close to his body, which you knew meant he was unsure.

You looked down at yourself. You had your own tail now, strongly muscled, stronger than human legs to cut through the water to the depths of the sea. It had spines and fins, fluttered like the voluminous silk of a dress, drifted with each adjustment and motion you made.

“I am with you,” you said to Sasuke, breathed, your words new and different, but shaped by the instinct of a creature of the sea.

You felt like you were drowning, still. The weight of water in your newly changed lungs reminded you that you were no longer above the water.

But oh. It slid into place as you looked into Sasuke’s eyes. There was a faint ring of black patterning in them that had been invisible to your fully human eyes. The dawn-red flash was more obvious now with every turn of his head. He swam around you slowly, taking in the fullness of your new form.

There were so many new senses it was almost blinding. You could feel the movement of water, the currents brushing against your skin and scales, the electric vibration of Sasuke circling around. Mei was a spot of warmth stronger than Sasuke somewhere above. Was that her magic? You did not know.

But Sasuke, he sang to you, his very presence hummed in your new bones. He felt tethered to you with the warmth of a sun warmed current. You knew instinctually that his inspection was nothing predatory, not curiosity exactly, but more like interest, more like … your instincts spoke to you of the slow movements of a courting display. Experimentally, you fanned the wide train of your tail, flexing muscles you hadn’t had minutes before, moving slowly so it rippled and showed off the tracery of vein-like patterns drawn by your scales. It pleased you that it was reminiscent of leaves, a reminder of the land you came from.

If this focus, this sense of belonging was half of what Sasuke had felt while you were only human, you understood even better the strength of emotion that had led him to shed tears.

Sasuke spiraled closer, the slow humming sounds in his throat translating into comprehensible description, concepts rather than words. Warm sand between skin and scales, the change from shallow to deep water, colored stones that guide in different sequences. It was both what he saw, and the feeling those things evoked in him – a comfort that never faded, the impression of moving from one place to somewhere very different, the bracelet you had given him. He wanted to go, to swim with you.

You wanted to go with him. You found yourself stirring your tail, clumsily and Sasuke’s affectionate consternation, almost a laugh, vibrating through the water. Something stopped you. There was something important. Another warm tether. You blinked. Mei. You had forgotten her so quickly. Or not forgotten, rather that she had drifted to another corner of your mind. Sasuke’s presence had been so strong and immediate, pulled your focus like a magnet.

The sound you made was unpracticed and in frustration you had to switch to gestures. Sasuke blinked and made a soothing sound almost like a very low echo that vibrated in your chest. He looked up to where a rippling image in red and blue sat by the water.

You breached the surface for the first time since the changes to your flesh. Air burned through your throat and nose, so light you felt like you might drift away. It was disorienting.

Mei’s eyes met yours, wide as though surprised. Maybe because the spell had worked so well, or because you had come back at all. She looked at you. You looked the same but so profoundly and obviously different.

Slowly, feeling the strength and speed in your limbs, you reached up and wiped away the tear that fell from her eye – clear and warm against your fingers.

“Go.” She whispered. That warm thread thrummed strong and malleable in your new senses.

You lifted yourself from the water to press your lips to her brow. She smelled like anemone flowers, which is something you had never realized before. It would be something to remember her by. Even though they weren’t the same, each time you saw one underwater, you would think of her.

“I love you Mei-oneesan.”

You could sense that Sasuke had popped his head above water, eager for the goodbye, to show you the open sea. A low, slow vibration found you, tingled up the new spines lining your tail like an overt extension of your spine, a reminder that he was here - comfort, but also excitement.

“I’m not going away,” you said to Mei. You slipped back so that the fishlike half of your body was submerged, looked back at the mer looking with expectant dark eyes at you. “I’m just going to love him.”

Mei’s hand found your cheek. Her fingers traced across the faint flash of new scale so fine and soft it blended with your skin. “Love him well,” she said. Whatever that meant for his people, she did not know, but she knew you would do your best to figure it out, she had every confidence in your abilities to adapt, and more importantly, to build a new life.

“I will,” you whispered, suddenly elated.

You spared a glance back, but you would return. Sasuke gave an adorably impatient little jerk of his head. Ready?

A sharp sound came readily from your throat, although from a place lower than the human voice box. You knew it to be some kind of affirmative, but that was going to take some getting used to. Everything would be new. A thrilled shiver went through your body as Sasuke dived below the waves. You followed close behind through the tunnels carved from the protective rocky wall, stones red and then black and then green marking your way.

The ocean opened up ahead. The water you drew over your new gills was like a breath of fresh air despite its aching heaviness. Sasuke waited, watching as you took it all in with eyes that saw much better in the depths, but there was still a point in every direction where you could no longer discern more than color. You focussed back on him, eyes wide. You beat your tail a few times to catch up, stopping just within reach for your more decorative fins to brush against Sasuke’s.

He reached out with seeking fingers and you reached back. Then he opened his mouth as though to taste the water. You imitated him, which seemed to amuse him. There was a burst of something taken in like flavor, but more like scent over your palate. Sasuke turned towards whatever sign he had found pointing him to what he was looking for. You followed into the blue expanse.

#mermay 2023 #mermay fic #uchiha sasuke #uchiha sasuke x reader #sasuke x reader #mermaid!sasuke #little mermaid au #but it's in reverse #long post #i think i'll cross post this one to ao3 as well #link will be up eventually for anyone who prefers reading there

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cakewritez · 7 months ago

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𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙/𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙

// feat. Idia, Riddle, Chen'ya

he would have a panic attack 100%

he didn’t think you’d be this bold meeting him irl! Idia thought those texts you sent him were just bluffs

he stutters trying to figure something to say

if it was the back of his hand he would be a little more calm, like it’s that scene from {random video game reference}

what if your doing this to make fun of his expression?

immediately worried

you have to assure him that you meant it

WOWWWAAH

did you just do that? like ACTUALLY did you just do that

he’s red as a tomato and doesn’t know how to feel so he just lashes out

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD-”

doesn’t matter if you can use magic or not that is being KEPT ON

thinks about it all night

plotting revenge, plots and schemes against you if you will

expect a letter at your front door describing how uncouth your actions are

..and an invitation for tea

jokes on you he would disappear before that would happen

chenya would re appear and tease you for the whole day

if you catch him off guard with said kiss he’ll wrap his tail around you and give you a forehead kiss

pretty much follows you around all day and plays some pranks on you

(idk much abt him since I just finished book 1 (⁠〒⁠﹏⁠〒⁠))

#twst headcanons #twst wonderland

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spottys-rathole · 1 year ago

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Hello hello ! Couldn't help but notice that your q!antoine design had horse(?) hooves :O

Do you have some hcs on what he is under this dirty cloak ?

I actually have a fullbody coloured drawing of him without the cloak somewhere in my files, whereas I’ll share it one day is up to whether or not I get a random confidence boost regarding my own designs and publicaly post them on impulse (but since you so kindly asked you get this one)

At first I wanted to make him some sort of eerie anthro cat underneath as a reference to the catboy meme And then as I was watching cc!Antoine’s VODs his character happened to find a zombie horse head and wore it for about 4min and 22sec, and me being me it became free real estate and I horsegirled again

On top of that I kind of imprinted on people’s headcanons of him being an end creature hybrid, and stealing people's better ideas is the second thing I'm the most talented at (after turning everything into furry)

So to sum it up : Underneath the cloak, my q!Antoine design is some sort of anthro unicorn x enderman-ish hybrid, with a shatered horn. He’s got a black pelt with a white star & snip marking on his head, and a short disheveled mane that runs all the way down to the middle of his spine. The skin on his ribcage is transluscent and purple light pierces through (for aesthetic✨), and if you look close enough (which he wouldn't let you do) you could see glimpses of his insides and whatnot. He wears lime green waterproof leg wraps on each of his limbs (I wanted it to be practical with the whole dirt/mud thing, and this design choice could have made me look smart if I hadn't added heavy feathering on both his legs, which nullifies it all) He has a flexible tail because I can, and anteater-like claws for hands (perfect for digging !)

Other headcanons I have in my head that I won't ever share if I don't do it now : -His unicorn horn is broken, only the stump remains and it can hardly do any magic anymore, but I headcanon that he uses it when using the symetry wand instead of the actual in-game tool. -With my eggs designs I like to sprinkle around bits of the parents' own appearances on top of it all, this is why my Pomme is a pony -Speaking of Pomme, she's the only one q!Antoine is confortable enough with taking off his mask around for relatively long periods of time (which I imagine he would do when writing in his secret room) -The other french-speakers have seen him without the mask at least once, but it was usually by accident and for merely a few seconds (For Baghera, it would probably be because curiosity got the best of her, so she would have forced a her way into the situation)

#qsmp #q!antoine #my art #ask #i checked my folder with my qsmp designs only to realize that so far a l l of the characters I've drawn display at least #one animal trait #headcanons

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pyropsychiccollector · 11 months ago

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Natsu Harem: Fairy GET! 8/14

We're dipping into the delightful second half here~.... (人◕ω◕) You can probably prepare for more references to other girls in the harem by now... You know most of them. (人◕ω◕)

Today's member is... Seilah-chan. Goddess of the Chill Moon. Or Sayla. However you prefer to write it out. ... I'll probably slip into using Sayla, just as a head's up. :3

When did they meet?

This question is... surprisingly tricky. (人◕ω◕) I haven't really talked about this aspect of Natsu's character up until now, but we were bound to get around to it eventually. "Spoiler" alert, but Natsu isn't exactly human... He's technically Etherious. Zeref's greatest creation, his beloved brother reborn... Although to be frank, his origins weren't all that great... As wrapped up in mystery as they are.

Since the series allows me some wiggle room... Let's run with this: For the first while after Natsu was brought back to life, he lived up until young adulthood, mastering his demonic powers. Zeref, of course, was fixated on dying, and Natsu being the bullheaded guy he is... Well, the demonic genes messed with his head. He went berserk like Zeref's other demons, but it was more controlled in Natsu... In END. All he could think about was destruction, especially destroying Zeref, as was ingrained into his very being.

END would go on to round up some of Zeref's most powerful demons. He figured that since he wasn't cutting it on his own in destroying Zeref, some allies would be much appreciated... But END was no fool. Demons don't appreciate being "subjugated", even if it's for the cause that they were all designed for. If they weren't pliable to forming alliances with one another, END asserted his dominance as the greatest among them. He brought Jackal to heel. Tempester. Kyouka. Ezel. Franmalth. Torafuzar. He convinced Keyes to join up... Proved his strength to the proud Mard Geer...

And of course, END won over the femme fatale, Sayla. (人◕ω◕) She had watched him dominate so many demons... Bringing them to form one unit... And Sayla, ah... Pardon the pun, but she was rather horny for END-sama. (人◕ω◕);;;

... Oh yes, they made love. Many, many times. END might have had a one-track mind with destruction, but Sayla certainly brought out a lust in him... Oh yes. (人◕ω◕);;;

Alas, before END could get to the meat of why he established Tartaros, Zeref put his foot down. He saw the mindless destruction and suffering END and Tartaros was creating, and Zeref thought it was counterintuitive to his brother's goal... Not to mention, there was a part of the Black Wizard that was pained at seeing his brother so... evil. So twisted.

Hence, Zeref sealed away Natsu's memories and his demonic powers. Giving him a fresh start yet again, leaving the book that contained Natsu's memories and demonic powers in Mard Geer's care. Natsu still wouldn't listen to him, as a young child... After speaking at length with Igneel, Zeref left Natsu in the dragon's care, hoping that Dragon Slayer magic would bring about a more stable and focused "human being." It made Zeref feel better, watching his brother interact with the other Dragon Slayer children...

Of course, Zeref did nothing about Tartaros. Just let them be as a remnant of END's past... They were given no answers to END's disappearance, and none of them besides Mard Geer discerned why they existed in the first place. Perhaps because he became the keeper of END's book. For her part, Sayla was... devastated with the loss of her END-sama...

But time marched on. Flash forward a few hundred years, and Tartaros formed alliances with Oracion Seis and Grimoire Heart. They were still pretty aimless, save for searching for their Master, END. Eventually they would come into conflict with Fairy Tail... And they would be fatefully reunited with END-sama.

... And they didn't even know it until the war was over.

When did they get closer?

For this question, we'll skim past the Tartaros arc in general. (人◕ω◕) I wouldn't really change much. Tartaros still screwed themselves over, making enemies of Fairy Tail. Especially with the additional members in their midst that have been amassing over time... (人◕ω◕) I suppose you know about Kagura, Simon, and his friends... But more on this later.

The point is, Tartaros really screwed up. ... However... (人◕ω◕) Through a twist of fate, Mard Geer attempts opening END's book once he's defeated, and it gives Natsu some of his memories back. Just enough to know that Tartaros was his guild... And he's not letting Zeref kill Mard Geer or any of them. They're his. And nobody touches what belongs to END. (人◕ω◕) That said, Zeref re-seals Natsu's memories, but agrees to spare Mard Geer and any of the remaining Demon Gates. The Black Wizard just wants to get to that war between him, humanity, and Acnologia.

Mard Geer, Torafuzar, Jackal, Franmalth, and Sayla all survive that war with Fairy Tail. ... And it's not like they can just join up with the fairies, not after everything that happened. But because of what Mard Geer knows, they also agree to still help Natsu destroy Zeref... It's what they were built for. (人◕ω◕) And Sayla in particular, well... She might be stalk- *coughs* tagging along with Natsu during his training trip with the Strauss Siblings while the guild is disbanded. ... Without Natsu knowing, of course. ... It is not stalking. Sayla will eviscerate you if you insult her pride like that. (人◕ω◕);;; She was left in a better state after Erza beatdown Kyouka, so Mira never got to absorb Sayla. ... And, uh. Sayla might or might not be testy about Mira being around END-sama so much... (人◕ω◕);;;;;;;;;;

Regardless! \(人◕ω◕)/ Sayla reintroduces herself to END-sama while the Strauss Siblings aren't around. Sure, he doesn't remember her, doesn't even have the same powers, but that's all immaterial to Sayla. She can tell he's END-sama after being in his presence for prolonged periods, and that means everything to her. Sayla even grows fond of Natsu's... kinder personality. He's destructive still, always itching to fight, but he has so much heart. She can see flashes of END-sama in him... And she's glad that he's become this person. "This" Natsu shows her how to live, and not just to pursue a goal to death. He's not as fond of reading as END-sama... But sometimes, Sayla is lucky enough to rest his head in her lap and read to him. And Natsu rolls with that. (人◕ω◕)

... It does get interesting, though, when the Strauss Siblings inevitably discover her stalk- *coughs* tagging along with them. (人◕ω◕);;; Elfman still isn't happy about being used to make the guild blow up, and Lisanna and Mira don't much like Sayla being so... intimate with Natsu. But Natsu vouches for how she's changed, and she does let Elfman vent on her for a bit... Her actions in Tartaros might not be forgiven, but she's trying to be a better person... despite being a demon.

Mira, though... she's definitely the hardest to win over. (人◕ω◕);;; She repeatedly tries fighting Sayla to exhaustion so that she can absorb the "damned succubus", but Sayla ain't havin' any of that. (人◕ω◕);;;;;;;; Yeah. Mira and Sayla-chan are very fiery rivals. Ahaha. (人◕ω◕);;;

When did friendship turn to something more?

Unsurprisingly, Sayla-chan's feelings have been strong for two of Natsu's "lifetimes". She was devout to END-sama, and though this new Natsu took some getting used to... Put simply, Sayla-chan loves this Natsu even more. Yes, and that is love, not just plain lust. (人◕ω◕) In Alvarez arc, Natsu fights for Sayla's continued life as well... And with August's help, they rewrite her book along with Natsu's. That way, when Zeref is defeated... the only parts of them that "die" are the demonic parts. ... So in a way, Sayla and Natsu are reborn as humans. None of the other demons expressed a desire to keep on living... But Sayla helped spare them anyway, again enlisting August's expertise in rewriting their books. So Mard Geer, Jackal, Franmalth, and Torafuzar all have fresh beginnings. ... As humans. (人◕ω◕) Sayla learned this sense of mercy, compassion, and loyalty from her Natsu, and she wants to enjoy all this new human life has to offer... right by his side.

Natsu still doesn't get his old memories back. But... Sayla still becomes important to him. She really changed for the better, and he does still find her to be very beautiful, even without horns. ... To the annoyance of some people. (人◕ω◕);;;;;;;;;

Sayla-chan did butt heads with Yukino and Sorano in the beginning cuz of their contracts with Celestial Spirits... But once reborn as a human, Sayla-chan became besties with Sorano-chan. ... (人◕ω◕) More on that friendship later. But, uh. Know that they like spoiling Natsu. ... Very, very much. (人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕) Mira-chan's pissed off she can't absorb Sayla anymore... But if you think this will stop her from trying to blow the former demon away, you're very sorely mistaken. Mira-chan grumbles a lot whenever Sayla's around or when she's a topic of discussion. ... Mostly cuz of Sayla continuously asserting herself as Natsu's true first, and all that fanatical devotion to Natsu........

Yes, Mira-chan has many... many... many... words. (人◕ω◕)

#Fairy Tail #seilah #natsu dragneel #Natsu x Seilah #Natsu harem

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ghost-kitty-cat · 1 year ago

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Newbie/Love Headcanons! (Time for Le Dragon boy's treasure)

First Headcanon, (inspired by one of my Desmond Headcanons... but..) Newbie/Love totally has teamed up with Law to drag Desmond away from work and to bed... (I imagine it totally annoyed Desmond but that didn't last long because he soon fell asleep...)

Second Headcanon, (I think it was mentioned that Newbie/Love is a earth/ground sorcerer possibly... soo....) I totally imagine Newbie/Love uses their magic to dig a hole and looked for either cool rocks or crystals/gemstones (I imagine they found a few cool rocks but no crystals or gemstones so they went to Desmond for cuddles... speaking of...)

Third Headcanon, (slightly also a Desmond Headcanon... but..) I totally imagine after Newbie/Love didn't find any crystals or gemstones, Desmond took a small wash cloth and help them clean the dirt off their face and out of their hair (and then braided it for them...)

Fourth Headcanon, (slightly also a Gage and Neo Headcanon... but..) I totally when Newbie/Love was still pretty new to the job, Gage convinced them to prank Neo with him (the prank made Neo jump a lot...)

Fifth Headcanon, (slightly a Nat and Desmond Headcanon... but..) I like to imagine a bit Later down the line when Newbie/Love meets Nat for the first time (if they ever meet Nat), Nat jokingly refers to Newbie/Love as "Auntie" (mostly to bug Desmond and make him a bit flustered... Nat would totally also be that kind of kid who asks Desmond and Newbie/Love when they're gonna get engaged or married XD)

Sixth Headcanon, (this is sorta connected to how I usually give the listener a way to fidget/stim... but..) I imagine Newbie/Love like to fidget with stuff like bracelets and keychains (I like to imagine when Desmond has his Keychain clipped to his pocket, Newbie/Love will slightly fidget with it... I think Desmond knows this but he doesn't say anything since it isn't really doing any harm...)

Seventh Headcanon, Newbie/Love totally visits the antique shop (that Desmond took them to) more nowadays... (I like to think Newbie/Love likes to collect a few antique tea sets.. and a few paintings... speaking of...)

Eighth Headcanon, (I don't remember if it was ever mentioned what the antique that Newbie/Love got from the shop was... but..) I totally imagine it was some old spell book that Newbie/Love now carefully keeps on its own little tiny bookshelf... (occasionally they will try to read it but the words and spells are mostly faded... and it looks like it was written in a sorta old language... I imagine they've showed it to Desmond slightly too but he had no clue what it said either...)

Ninth Headcanon, (This is slightly a Desmond Headcanon (and it also slightly due to how I picture him with the dragon horns and tail even in human form.. but...) I totally imagine that was a time where Newbie/Love was watching a movie with Desmond and Newbie/Love ended up falling asleep leaning on Desmond's chest and slightly wrapped up in his tail like it was a blanket

Tenth Headcanon, I totally imagine Newbie/Love is the kind of person that when they're upset (or they just mentally/emotionally shut down) they cuddle up in a big heavy weighted blanket... (either that or they will just quietly hug Desmond.... I think by now Desmond understands this and he just quietly lets them hug him while he works (or something)...)

#reverie audios #Newbie/Love #Slight Desmond #Tiny bit of Law & Nat #Tiny bit of Gage & Neo

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theredpharaoah · 10 months ago

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Just caught up on Fairy Tail lore. For reference: I clocked out during the Grand Magic Games and kept up a bit during the time they were fighting that dark guild; the one with Gray’s Dad in it. Let’s get into some things:

1. I need anime to start giving their characters better motives. Zeref doing all that to get Natsu back? Acnologia becoming a dracocidal(LMAO) maniac because of an isolated event and the death of one child? Please be serious. This is like Obito deciding to stop suffering by starting a world war and killing billions of creatures. Anime logic is soooooo

2. Zeref and Mavis were both cursed by some God to be immortal for interfering with natural order? What happened to good ole “a life for a life”? And then having an old ass son that Zeref didn’t know was his? Also, Zeref ruling a whole kingdom and - I’m assuming - no one was aware?! They been talking about the ancient and legendary dark wizard Zeref since day 1 and he been a hop and a skip over

3. 400 years ago is not “ancient”

4. They’re not making dragonization seem like that much of an issue. I get that it’s hard to shift back to human but Zeref was able to do it with like a wave of his hand. And Zeref being so powerful and so much more skilled than someone like Irene doesn’t really make sense to me.

5. The power difference between Irene and Acnologia makes no sense to me either. She the Original Model, so why is he so much more powerful. Which dragon gave him their magic anyway? I get he eats magic(I’m assuming the same way the other slayers eat their specific magic), but it’s just not giving. And if Zeref is so powerful why he ain’t just handle this forever ago.

6. Why didn’t Belserion just jump into Irene’s soul like the other 5 did to their children? Irene had no reason to abandon Erza. She was human again and Erza would’ve been way safer with her than growing up in Rosemary Village.

7. Erza used to be so badass, but she hasn’t really had a power upgrade since damn near the beginning of the series(My memory fuzzy tho. it’s been over a decade). And her not being a dragon slayer or somewhat dragon doesn’t make sense. Irene was transforming when she was pregnant, was a dragon while the pregnancy was halted, and gave birth whilst a dragon - just in human form. Her “DNA” was definitely draconic when Erza was developing. Why did Erza’s dad do that to Irene? They had dragons on their side. Dragons giving them Dragon Slayer magic was how they were able to not be annihilated. Also, the being nice to the point of your detriment shit is so tired. She could’ve easily subdued those guards and her husband. She didn’t even have to kill them.

8. It took y’all 400 years to do this? Why?

9. Mavis. Is she dead? Is she alive? She died but yet was preserved in the Lacrima? I’m guessing Makarov’s father did something. Still a mess Her and Zeref fucked or is it some “Mother Mavis” and “August Christ” type shit?

10. Zeref and Acnologia’s power just make no sense to me. I’m so sick of the “genius” excuse. It’s giving bad fanfiction.

11. This 100 years war thing? God. What now? Someone’s coming from 100 years in the past? There’s 5 “Dragon Gods” who ran from Acnologia out of fear, but somehow became more powerful than him…? One of them is Natsu’s brother who has never been mentioned by anyone beforehand. And is he a human by birth or a dragon by birth? Let’s wrap it up please.💀

12. Also, if they really wanted to gag the live, they would’ve gave Lucy the Spirit King’s Key. She should not be going to fight Brandish thinking she can’t win. Erza shouldn’t have been fighting Irene with no chance of winning. Where’s the skill? The innovation? That’s the issue. Only Mavis and Zeref made new shit. Everyone else only used what was already available.

#fairy tail

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popcorn-plots · 10 months ago

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Febuwhump day 29: Not allowed to die/alt -- Immortality

Title: eternal

Words: 682

Summary: Stephen Strange gets cursed.

Well at least the blorbos get a bittersweet ending after being tortured for a month straight.

~~~

He was cursed. It was as simple as that.

It was a new curse, something he had never seen before. It was irreversible, as far as he could tell. No one knew what it did. Stephen forgot about it.

It only took a few years to realize that he wasn't aging. Wong, well into his 50s, had a head of silvery-white. Stephen had his gray temples, his hair still jet black. He finally realized after so long that he couldn’t die. It shook him to his very core, but he pressed forward. He cherished the time he had left, the time his friends and family had left before they faded from the world’s memory.

Stephen watched as Wong aged. He watched as the man he loved started to forget. At first, it was simple things. He forgot words in English. He had to refer to spell books more often than not, forgetting the more complex spells. Then he began to wander, forgetting the names of his apprentices, and Stephen finally recognized Wong's behavior as Alzheimer's. It worsened rapidly, and before he knew it, Wong couldn't recognize Stephen. He couldn't even get out of bed. Stephen was with him when he finally passed, slipping away peacefully in his sleep.

Stephen grieved. Kamar-Taj grieved. Years later and most of the Masters he met when he first arrived were gone. They may have longer lifespans than the average human, but they were still mortal. Fragile.

Stephen continued on. Hundreds of years passed. He watched generations rise and fall, attempted to keep track of his and Wong’s descendants. He tried to smile at the spring-time Novices, all bright eyed and bushy tailed as he forced himself out of faded memories of warm afternoons at Kamar-Taj, laughing with the Ancient One over tea, bugging Wong in the library until the older man peppered his face with kisses, grumbling about the noise while hiding a smile behind his book. Summer nights spent studying in the courtyard, lit by the dim glow of lanterns, the stories in his books accompanied by the soft hum of magic, the chattering of students, and the symphonies of crickets. The frigid winter mornings spent cuddling with Wong under their thick covers, giggling as they basked in each other’s warmth..

He witnessed the rise of flying cars, produced not by Tony or Peter, but Tony’s granddaughter, Antonia Michelle Pepper Parker, named after her mother and grandmother. (He had visited Stark's grave, surrounded by the resting places of his family. Peter, MJ, Pepper, Happy. The grove was clean, cared for, but no one alive remembered them. No one but Stephen. He left without a word.)

Stephen became known as The Doctor to his students. A student needed something? Talk the The Doctor. He knew everything.

He became as old, although never quite as wise, as the Ancient One herself, leading those who seeked the secrets of Kamar-Taj. He watched his students grow, blinked away tears at their graduation.

Dates faded into a thing of the past. Stephen spaced out more and more. People still came to him, he was still the Sorcerer Supreme. He wished someone would call him 'Stephen'.

It had been a long, long time since Stephen felt... anything. Yet he smiled, free from his burdens and laughing at the irony, as his last moments on Earth were spent free-falling from a misplaced portal.

When he woke up, it was to Wong, youthful and grinning. "Stephen.." he breathed, kissing him deeply when he got his bearings. Stephen nearly burst into tears. "I've waited so long for you. Come, come, everyone is waiting."

Stephen followed his lover through the empty halls of Kamar-Taj. Laughter bubbled through a door, a sliver of light cutting through the dark of the hallway.

Wong pushed the door open to reveal... everyone. Stephen finally cried when the Ancient One wrapped him in a hug, pulling him close to her chest. He was home, free from the expectations of his long, long life.

He was home, with Wong, with the Ancient One, with his family.

He could rest at last.

Ao3

Guys. We finished Febuwhump 2024. Holy shit. Been a long journey and I'm really proud of myself! Masterlist will be up sometime tomorrow--

See y'all in March!

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mistypurplespark · 4 months ago

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Chapter 20: Headquarters

Chapter 20.1: Headquarters

Translator(s): Zryuu

Present world Chang’an, during the fourth of the fifth night watch periods, within Weiyang Palace’s sleeping chambers.

”It is indeed as Your Majesty expected. The Great Chanyu, Shulü Kong, and Chen Xing entered the Feng family this afternoon. In the evening, for some reason, the Feng family swarmed out in full strength and began a search throughout the city,” a military officer said, “To look for what Your Majesty called ‘Xiang Shu’.”

Fu Jian was awakened in the middle of the night. Dressed in an unlined garment as he sat on a couch outside his sleeping chambers, he was suppressing a lot of anger as he looked at the military officer with a face full of doubt.

The military officer continued, “This subordinate dispatched ten covert investigators to question the servants of the Feng family and scouted about along the street, and managed to find Xiang Shu before them. By great fortune, we accomplished our mission; this fellow was pacing back and forth outside a steamed bun shop in the dark.”

In front of Fu Jian stood a mongrel with a small mirror in its mouth, and it was currently wagging its tail in front of Fu Jian.

“Some saliva got on the mirror. Your humble general, I, wanted to wipe it clean, but this dog refused to let go of it no matter what……”

When the military officer found “Xiang Shu”, he saw an antique mirror, so he thought himself clever by inferring the rest of the story himself. Princess Qinghe’s beloved mirror must have been snatched away by a dog called “Xiang Shu”, which was why Fu Jian made such a big fuss over searching the city.

Fu Jian, “……”

The military officer bowed, stepped back, and the dog looked to its left and right with a puzzled expression.

Fu Jian, “Tuoba Yan didn’t instruct you on whether to look for a dog or a person?”

The military officer looked baffled as he answered, “Lord Tuoba just said to find a fellow named Xiang Shu……”

In the Xianbei language, “fellow” could refer to people, dogs, or even objects. Tuoba Yan’s intention was to look for someone called Xiang Shu, so his subordinates thought they were supposed to look for a person at first. They only knew it was a dog after questioning the servants of the Feng family, so they quickly brought it back to Fu Jian after finding it.

Ever since Feng Qianjun grabbed that dog back, he didn’t know its other name and only heard Chen Xing call it Xiang Shu before, so he just always called it “Xiang Shu”, “Xiang Shu”. When Feng Qianyi’s magic weapon got snatched, and he sent their family out to search for it, they were all holding lamps and shouting “Xiang Shu”, “Xiang Shu” as well, which just so happened to be overheard by the imperial military officers.

Fu Jian roared angrily, “Idiots! A bunch of idiots! Where’s Tuoba Yan?!”

The military officer got a fright and quickly said, “General……uh, he’s not back yet.”

Fu Jian seized the mirror in one lightning move, and that dog still bared its teeth as it wanted to snatch it back from him. Fu Jian casually threw the mirror onto the table. He didn’t want to blow up in the middle of the night, so he just dismissed the officer to continue searching.

Princess Qinghe had been awakened by the clamour as well. She stretched lazily from behind the screen, revealing her lithe figure. Fu Jian wrapped an outer robe around him and smoothed out his messy hair. With his rough, hair chest exposed, he exhaled and wore a pair of wooden clogs.

“They haven’t been found yet?” Qinghe came out bleary-eyed and asked, “Where is Your Majesty going?”

Fu Jian answered, “The study. Meeting Wang Ziye to talk about something, I’m awake anyway. Call someone over to send this dog away……”

Princess Qinghe said, “It’s so pitiful though, let it sleep behind the screen for one night bei.”

So Fu Jian just took a robe, threw it behind the screen and chased the dog over. The dog was evidently quite tired too, so it lay behind the screen to sleep.

After Fu Jian left, Princess Qinghe saw the mirror on the table. She frowned and grasped it gently, studying it carefully in her hands.

In the mirror world, the three of them stood at a high ground in the Exorcism Department as they faced the mountain of living corpses. Not a single sound could be heard beyond the canyon.

“They dare not come too close,” Xiang Shu said, “Why?”

Feng Qianjun spread out the bamboo slip and held it up under the sunlight to study it, then he took the bronze mirror and began reading it.

“Because the head is with us?” Chen Xing looked into the distance and guessed.

Xiang Shu frowned, “No, the headless general stopped chasing us when it reached the entrance, remember when we left the palace?”

With this reminder, Chen Xing suddenly recalled that when they left Weiyang Palace, he had felt as if he had passed through an invisible wall, and he had the same sensation when he had rushed into the Exorcism Department.

“A defensive formation.” Chen Xing remembered a record in an ancient text he read. “A defensive formation was established here with the help of magic weapons or sacred tools! Where’s that magic weapon?”

Chen Xing had read about it in a book before — powerful magic weapons and sacred tools, combined with an esoteric exorcism array, can establish

invisible walls used to ward off foreign enemies. But they have never seen a single magic weapon ever since they entered the Exorcism Department. After all, it would be very difficult to use the Yin Yang Mirror to create stone rubbings of magic weapons in the present world.

The only thing they saw before that could possibly be a magic weapon or sacred tool would be……

Chen Xing and Xiang Shu looked at the sword that Xiang Shu was holding at the same time.

Xiang Shu weighed the blunt sword in his hands and said in a low voice, “In that case, enemies shouldn’t be able to attack this place for now.”

Yet Chen Xing’s expression changed. He was incredibly anxious as he suppressed his voice, “That’s not necessarily true, Brother Feng! Stop reading! Look!!”

The living corpse soldiers everywhere seemed to have received an invisible signal, and all of them began nocking their bows as they pointed them at the three-storey building of the Exorcism Department Headquarters.

Feng Qianjun looked up and murmured, “Oh that’s not good, find a place to take cover!”

Within a split second, close to 100,000 wooden arrows whooshed into the air and blotted out the sky, then turned and began raining down on the middle of the canyon like a rainstorm!

Xiang Shu lunged at Chen Xing almost at the same time, and they rolled down the stairs. Feng Qianjun followed close behind, running sideways as he went down to the second floor. With a loud rumble, 100,000 flying arrows that carried the force of an arrow cluster weighing more than 10,000 jin instantly crushed the third floor, yet the momentum of the arrows didn’t fade, and it took the second floor down along with the third one as well!

“What do we do?!” Chen Xing Shouted.

Xiang Shu kicked a table, and the table on the first floor flipped into mid air to shield the top of their heads. Feng Qianjun was still looking down at the

bamboo slip, and Chen Xing shouted, “Stop reading! Run first!” Xiang Shu shouted, “Can we stop them if I take this sword out?”

“No!” Chen Xing shouted, “Once it leaves the array here, the Defense Walls will disappear and lose their effectiveness!”

Feng Qianjun finally snapped out of his reverie and shouted, “Go underground!”

Xiang Shu, “No! We’ll get buried alive!”

Chen Xing, “It’s no use! Once the array gets destroyed, then……” Xiang Shu, “Take the head with you, go!”

On all four sides of the canyon, the second wave of flying arrows pointed to the sky, and then all of them were released at the same time!

The decrepit Exorcism Department collapsed just like that; within the instant when smoke and dust curled into the air, Xiang Shu took Chen Xing along and rushed out along the entrance with Feng Qianjun!

All of the pursuers throughout the entire valley instantaneously turned to look at the same direction at the same time, then began chasing after them.

The scene was truly too spectacular; thousands of living corpses were like a tsunami that swept through the entire valley as they scrambled over one another. Feng Qianjun held the head up with one hand, and Chen Xing‘s feet almost left the ground from being dragged along by Xiang Shu in a mad dash along the street as they ran for their lives.

Feng Qianjun, “I’d suggest throwing this head away or destroying it! Look at how relentless their pursuit is, maybe they want to……”

Xiang Shu, “Do whatever you want! Try destroying it!”

The three of them had just run past an intersection on the street when another thousand or so living corpses suddenly rushed out of an alley. Chen

Xing resolutely raised his hand and emitted a burst of bright light, which routed ordinary living corpses dressed in ragged garments with a blast.

Feng Qianjun threw the head away, drew his knife, and was about to hack the living corpse’s head into two when a black vapour suddenly appeared in the air. It shot over like a meteor and curled around the head, then along with a surging black flame, flew back towards the living corpses’ general.

Feng Qianjun, "!!!"

Feng Qianjun had been caught completely unprepared and was stunned on the spot when the head was snatched away.

“What is that?” Xiang Shu looked up at the sky.

Chen Xing stopped, looked up, and murmured, “I don’t know.”

Strangeness pervaded this mirror world at all times. Feng Qianjun said, “Where do we go now?”

Xiang Shu, “The palace.” Then he patted Chen Xing’s back and said in a low voice, “If what you said was right, there should be another wall of some sort in the palace.”

“Yes!” Chen Xing seemed to have awakened from a dream, “Run towards the palace! Quickly!”

The three of them immediately vaulted onto a roof. Feng Qianjun looked up, only to see that the black armoured general had retrieved its head and was currently lining up its troops. The dark mass of troops didn’t seem to have any intention of letting them go.

“What do they want to do?” Feng Qianjun frowned.

Xiang Shu shrugged, then asked Chen Xing, “Why can your light drive away ordinary living corpses but not the shadow warriors?”

“I don’t know ah!” Chen Xing finally couldn’t stand it anymore and blew his top, “Why, what, how, what’s this, what’s that, what does this do, what

does that do, I’m very confused too, alright?! Why are you asking me all the questions?!”

Xiang Shu, “......”

Feng Qianjun, “Come on! They’re going to charge!”

So Xiang Shu could only pick Chen Xing up, clasping him under his arms as he leapt across roofs and vaulted over walls with Feng Qianjun. Chen Xing was practically facing the wind with two rows of tears streaming down his face. When will he be able to find the Dinghai Pearl and restore his mana aaaahhhhh! He has just been dragging the other two down the entire way!

Chapter 20.2: Headquarters Translator(s): Zryuu

“Living corpses are the lowest-levelled ones,” Chen Xing was still trying his best to answer Xiang Shu questions while being carried as they were fleeing, “Shadow warriors may have powered up after cultivating, so they aren’t as afraid of the light. The knight is their boss, and it has demonic powers too. If silence hadn’t fallen on all magic in the world, the Heart Lamp would definitely be able to deal with them, but I have no way of doing so right now……refinement! I get it! Why the living corpses are being reared in the mirror’s Chang’an City! The enemies are thinking of a way to refine them!”

Ordinary living corpses with the weakest combat strength made up the bulk of the enemies here. Looking at the situation, there should be at least hundreds of thousands of them; next in rank would be the shadow warriors, and if that was right, the plentiful, dense resentment within the mirror should be used to nourish these living corpses and increasingly strengthen them.

If they hadn’t discovered the secret behind the mirror world, then in time to come, this place would have a shadow army with hundreds of thousands of soldiers who don’t fear death, don’t fear pain, and only know how to slaughter!

With a “buzz”, Chen Xing felt like he had once again passed through an invisible wall. The three of them jumped down from Weiyang Palace’s outer wall and landed in the imperial garden.

“Got it, find the mirror.” Xiang Shu commanded, “Feng Qianjun, split up to search for it.”

“Wait wait wait!” Feng Qianjun said, “Give me some time, let me finish reading this bamboo slip.”

Xiang Shu, “Can’t you talk about it when we get back?” Feng Qianjun said, “It might help!”

Chen Xing motioned to Xiang Shu to let Feng Qianjun give it a try, so Xiang Shu had to drop it. He gestured for Chen Xing to follow Feng Qianjun, while he went to search for the physical body of the Yin Yang Mirror in the mirror world.

Feng Qianjun entered a hall, unfurled the bamboo slip, and sat down in front of a bronze mirror to study it carefully.

Chen Xing knew that the cultivation method of the magic weapon was written on it; Sen Luo Wan Xiang was the Feng family’s heirloom, so it originally had a resonance with those from Feng Qianjun’s family. All that was recorded on this bamboo slip were secret arts used to guide one’s inner force throughout the entire body’s meridians to then absorb the spiritual Qi of heaven and earth before injecting it into the sacred weapon. Feng Qianjun had been practising martial arts since he was young, so naturally, he would be so familiar with this to the point that he couldn’t be any more familiar with it, but……

Chen Xing cautioned, “Right now, the most important component — the spiritual Qi of heaven and earth — is missing, so even if you do learn how to wield the Sen Luo knife, you wouldn’t be able to awaken its power.”

“But it won’t hurt to give it a try,” Feng Qianjun stated, “What if it works?”

Chen Xing couldn’t bear to deal him a blow. Feng Qianjun pressed the meridians on his arm with his left hand in turn, “Could you use the Heart Lamp’s power to help me like how you assisted the Great Chanyu?”

Chen Xing, “I think it’s a bit of a mystery.” Feng Qianjun, “Where does the mystery lay?”

Chen Xing, “The mystery lies in the fact that the Heart Lamp doesn’t seem to want to pay attention to you, so I can’t do anything about it either.”

At that moment, Chen Xing heard the sound of hooves striking the ground outside the palace — the dense mass of living corpse army had already surrounded the whole palace. Xiang Shu hadn’t found the Yin Yang Mirror yet, but the Defense Walls were still active, so the enemies should not be able to rush in for now. What he was afraid of was that they would repeat their previous tactic and release tens of thousands of arrows at them again.

But the bricks and tiles of the palace were sturdier than those of the Exorcism Department’s after all; he just didn’t know how long they would last.

“Sen Luo Wan Xiang, there were two at first,” Feng Qianjun said solemnly, “One was called Sen Luo, while the other was called Wan Xiang, and they were only cast into one later on. My ancestors chose to build Xifeng Bank on Mt. Song because they wanted to guard the Exorcism Department that once existed there.”

Chen Xing knew that Feng Qianjun had his own resolution and would unlikely give up under his persuasion, so he could only ask, “Did your older brother know that the Yin Yang Mirror was placed in the warehouse?”

Feng Qianjun finished reading the bamboo slip and put it aside. He answered, “He knew everything. The one who activated the Yin Yang Mirror and threw us into the mirror world was him.”

Chen Xing, "......"

Feng Qianjun sighed, and Chen Xing comforted him, “Fu Jian already knows, he just doesn’t want to lay a finger on you guys before obtaining enough evidence. Go back and persuade him ba. I have to retrieve the Yin Yang Mirror, then slowly think of a way later to eliminate the resentment in it.”

Feng Qianjun left five fingers pressed down on the meridians of his right arm in turn, then pressed on a spot in front of his shoulder, chest, then lower abdomen. He got up, drew the Sen Luo knife, and tried brandishing it horizontally.

“Let me try.” Feng Qianjun said.

Chen Xing didn’t believe that Feng Qianjun could awaken Sen Luo Wan Xiang under such circumstances at first, but Feng Qianjun stood with his knife horizontally across in front of him. He wielded the knife with his right hand, while stroking it slowly across with his left. Within an instant, an imperceptible flow in the Yin wind in the air seemed to stir.

“This……wait!” Chen Xing shouted immediately, “Stop! Brother Feng!”

Chen Xing’s soul scattered from fright, but he had figured out the key; the Sen Luo knife could be awakened, but the problem was that when Feng Qianjun utilises his arts, it would have no way of luring the spiritual Qi of heaven and earth over. Instead, what would take its place would be the abundant resentment in the mirror world!

Once resentment was introduced into the Sen Luo knife, what may happen next would simply be unthinkable!

Chen Xing wanted to seize the Sen Luo knife, but Feng Qianjun turned a deaf ear to him; the black flames that surrounded his body suddenly soared into the air, spun around rapidly, and wound around his body, blocking Chen Xing from getting close. Within a split second, Feng Qianjun cried out in pain while his eyes turned bloodshot! The Yin wind engulfed him, producing howls of anguish beside him!

“This is resentment!” Chen Xing shouted, “You’ll suffer a backlash!”

While he was being overwhelmed by everything that was happening around him, Chen Xing recalled that one of the usages of the Heart Lamp was to “expel demons”. Right when he was lighting up his Heart Lamp, Xiang Shu had already rushed to the fore of the hall. Chen Xing said, “Stop him! Protector! No, no, don’t use your sword! You’ll kill him!”

So Xiang Shu had to change his weapon. He lifted up a table with one hand and slammed it harshly onto Feng Qianjun’s back. Feng Qianjun returned the hit with his knife; Xiang Shu’s heavy iron sword was unsheathed and

met the Sen Luo knife head-on. Feng Qianjun dropped his long knife at once, and it fell to the ground with a “clang”.

Then Chen Xing immediately shouted, “Expel!” And emitted a scorching light with one hand before pressing it against Feng Qianjun’s forehead.

A white light burst out with a blast. Feng Qianjun fell to his knees, and his gaze steadied, a bewildered expression appearing on his face.

Chen Xing got such a huge fright that he choked; for a very brief moment, he thought that Feng Qianjun was going to lose control.

“You almost got possessed!” Chen Xing said.

Xiang Shu said in disbelief, “What happened this time?”

“I don’t know……okay I do know,” Chen Xing explained, “I’ll talk about it later, have you found it?”

Xiang Shu turned around. Chen Xing quickly picked up the Sen Luo knife and pulled Feng Qianjun up, then chased after Xiang Shu. They crossed through a long corridor before arriving in the main hall and only saw a wooden frame placed in front of the Emperor’s throne. A simple mirror was placed on it — it was the Yin Yang Mirror!

Chen Xing rushed forward to check, but Xiang Shu was full of doubts as he studied Feng Qianjun. Feng Qianjun waved his hand to signal that he was fine. He extended a hand, so Xiang Shu took the Sen Luo knife and handed it to him.

Feng Qianjun, “For a moment just now, it was as if there was a voice ringing out next to my ear that kept saying ‘kill, kill’……”

Xiang Shu frowned and watched Feng Qianjun.

Feng Qianjun nodded, then slowly said, “……I just wanted to find something to kill with and have a good time. Is that what getting possessed is like?”

“You have obsessions in your heart,” Chen Xing inspected the Yin Yang Mirror and explained to Feng Qianjun, “So it would be taken advantage of by resentment. Resentment in the world is flourishing, so it would gradually breed ‘demons’. Demons can control people’s hearts and continuously magnify the obsession in your heart. At the very end, you would fall into a never-ending cycle of slaughter, never to break free for all of eternity. That’s ‘getting possessed’.”

Feng Qianjun covered his forehead with an outstretched hand, his thumb and middle finger pressing against his temples on both sides.

“Fortunately, your Heart Lamp woke me up like a streak of lightning.”

Chen Xing said, “It had occurred so suddenly. I’ve only read about it in a book that the Heart Lamp can temporarily expel resentment. Anyway, you……”

Xiang Shu roughly understood what had happened. Suddenly, they heard a boom, and the entire hall began to shake. It was the sound of arrows landing on the tiles above.

“Can we get out of here?” Xiang Shu, “We’re running out of time!”

“I’ll try,” Chen Xing rolled his sleeves up and said, “I can’t guarantee that it’ll succeed. The Yin Yang Mirror is also a magic weapon driven by resentment. In order to activate it, I must accept the resentment. When I pick it up to use it later, the Defense Walls outside will disappear, and the two of you must protect me then.”

Xiang Shu, “Can’t you just leave it where it is when you use it? Must you pick it up?”

Chen Xing, “I can’t! Are you sure you want to listen to my explanation right now?”

Feng Qianjun, “Hurry! Stop fighting! The top of the hall is about to collapse!”

Xiang Shu said impatiently, “Do it, do it!”

The tiles above the main hall of Weiyang Palace began falling apart layer by layer. Chen Xing took a deep breath; this was his first time using magic after leaving the mountain……no, it was his first time using magic in his whole life……emitting light doesn’t count. He often read in ancient texts about how exorcists would rely on magic weapons to move about freely in both the sky and the earth. Now that it was his turn, he felt extremely nervous.

In an instant, white light lit up from both of Chen Xing’s palms. His left palm turned over as the Yang side, while his right hand clenched to form the Yin side; they revolved around the Yin Yang Mirror while he silently recited incantations in his mind and told himself that he must succeed!

The Yin Yang Mirror reacted instantly; a winding black vapour burst forth from it at once and slowly rose from his palms!

It works! Chen Xing thought. However, the Heart Lamp’s magic was extremely clear, while the resentment in the Yin Yang Mirror was extremely muddy; the two were mutually exclusive and started resisting each other. The black vapour from the Yin Yang Mirror began spreading all over Chen Xing’s body and ruthlessly engulfed him within a black flame.

Feng Qianjun and Xiang Shu watched Chen Xing and saw that his eyes turned slightly blood red. Feng Qianjun muttered, “Are you okay?! Tianchi!”

Countless noises rang out next to Chen Xing’s ears, the clearest of which was his own voice.

“Why……why……must I only have four years left to live……why me……”

“Chen Xing!” Xiang Shu could tell that the situation didn’t seem right and suddenly shouted.

Chen Xing immediately received a shock and gathered the Heart Lamp’s light, using it to guard his heart by forming a warm, bright light around it.

“Go!” Chen Xing shouted and withdrew both hands. He grasped the knack of using resentment to control the magic weapon and began manipulating it. The Yin Yang Mirror rose into the air and spewed out black flames, then began revolving high up in the hall. Strange runes appeared all around it.

The sound of Weiyang Palace’s main entrance collapsing travelled over from the outside.

“How long more?!” Feng Qianjun shouted.

“I, DON’T, KNOW!” Chen Xing roared angrily, “I don’t want to answer any questions from either of you anymore!!!”

Zryuu: Subbed Dinghai song can be found here

Translated by me and subbed by El~

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yanderes-galore · 3 years ago

Note

Could you do hybrid headcanons for Norton and Naib (separately), please? Kind of like that dragon scenario you talked about (how they looks is up to you). Maybe their s/o is a magic user who had gotten lost and accidentally ran into them?

Alright!

The dragon concept they are referring to is here

I will start by describing what they look like then move onto behaviors.

Yandere! Dragon Hybrid! Norton and Naib Concepts/HCs

Possible Trigger Warnings: Yandere behavior such as a forced relationship, kidnapping, implied murder, possessive themes.

Dragon Hybrid! Prospector 🧲

- Dragon Hybrid! Norton is a dragon hybrid who loves to gather shiny trinkets from all over the place.

- His eyes are brown and slit like a reptile.

- Norton also dawns golden brown scales across his body from his tail to his wings.

- He also still has his usual hair.

- Since Norton's job is a miner dragon, he isn't high in status. This means his horns aren't too large. They are small and slightly curved like a male mountain goat.

- The hybrid also has sharp claws and teeth for fights, that does not mean he doesn't use normal weapons though.

- Norton tends to avoid conflict, anyways.

- The miner dragon's home is always covered in a large hoard of treasures on the inside, too.

- Crystals, Ore, Artifacts, all sorts of items from mining trips.

- His clothes are the same compared to normal Prospector when he goes to the mine, except there are holes to compensate his long tail and wings in the back.

- When not working he swaps to a comfortable cloak like most of his species, it's a plain brown one.

- Yandere behavior

- For Norton, maybe you did meet him by accident.

- Maybe you got lost in the woods while looking for magic crystals so you could conduct spells.

- The dragon hybrid came across you in his brown cloak, seeing your confused expression.

- It isn't often he sees humans out here so he approaches you.

- As a magic user, you know what he is right away as you have studied these types of hybrids.

- "Excuse me, sir, do you know where I can find magic crystals?"

- Norton understands what you're looking for and says he's a dragon miner.

- "I can get you some, human. Have anything to trade?"

- This is how you meet the golden brown hybrid, Norton rummaging through his hoard of trinkets to produce a few hunks magic crystal for you to purchase.

- After this you and Norton speak with each other often.

- If you need any supplies, Norton says he'll find what he can for you.

- It starts as a mutual relationship to a blooming friendship between you and the hybrid.

- You often hear flapping outside of your home where you conduct spells, followed by the knocking of claws.

- You open the door and Norton's standing there.

- A sharp grin is on his face as he asks to be let in to help you with spells.

- Soon Norton starts to think of you more than a human companion.

- It's shown through his gestures.

- When you open the door to let him in for a nice chat his large body hugs you, holding you tight as he wraps his tail sways.

- When speaking to you he often puffs out his chest and flexes his wings.

- The hybrid also finds himself curling up on your bed as you talk to him from your desk, listening to your voice and taking in your scent.

- It's soon known that the hybrid has taken a liking to you, the dragon wanting you as a mate.

- Norton knows many of his species resorts to kidnapping when it comes to human mates, like princesses.

- He doesn't wish to as you look so happy here, but if he can't court you before spring or summer he may have to resort to such practices.

- He'll move your supplies, don't worry!

- All dragon hybrids are equipped to kill, yet Norton will only harm outsiders if they encroach on his territory. (Like other hybrids or humans).

- Norton enjoys dressing you in glimmering jewels, gems, and metals. That's his preferred decoration for his mate.

- Norton likes to protect you like you're a precious crystal he's found!

- "Finders Keepers...."

Dragon Hybrid! Mercenary 🛡

- Dragon Hybrid! Naib is a hybrid that likes to focus more on fighting and weapons instead of collecting gold pieces or gems.

- His eyes are colored blue.

- Naib's body is covered in scarred green scales that cover his tail and wings.

- Hair is still the same.

- Naib's job is a Warrior and a Mercenary, hired by all sorts to complete bloody tasks. This makes his horns larger, similar to a ram.

- He likes to keep his claws and teeth razor sharp incase he is disarmed by his opponent.

- Unlike Norton, Naib has a love for conflict.

- Naib's definition of a hoard is trophies from his hunts (Skulls, Teeth, Etc) and weapons. Rarely you find gold pieces but he has those too.

- When the dragon hybrid is hired by a human or another hybrid, he wears armor to protect himself. His scales are also protection but the light armor and gauntlets he wears helps too.

- He also still wears his usual green cloak to blend into forrest terrain.

- When not on a job, he wears just the green cloak without the armor and gauntlets.

- Yandere Behavior

- Accidentally running into this hybrid is terrifying as first.

- He's big, muscular, and very fierce looking.

- His wings are large and tattered but he can still fly fast and efficiently.

- You give me a scared look because he doesn't look like a friendly dragon hybrid.

- He actually finds it funny when you two first meet.

- Then he laughs at your frantic no and asks why you're here.

- Naib assures you he isn't a danger to you, unless you're challenging him?

"You looking for a fight, human?"

- You tell him your reason and he nods, turning away and wishing you luck.

- It takes some time for Naib to get attached to you.

- He's usually busy taking tasks for money yet he likes to return to the spot he met you to see if he can see you again.

- It couldn't hurt for the hybrid to have a human companion right?

- When he does manage to see you again he chats with you.

- The large dragon hybrid takes interest in your magic as you are a magic user.

- You might form a friendship with the dragon hybrid if you help him train between his missions.

- Particularly your combat magic if you have any.

"Give me your best shot!"

- This comes with a drawback later on....

- Naib takes an interest in you while you train with him.

- He can get tired after his missions so he finds meeting up with you is like a sanctuary.

- Sometimes you make him calm, sometimes you make him excited.

- He loves how you make him feel.

- As his obsession grows he's around you more often.

- He stops doing so many missions and spends most of his time around you.

- This is where him taking away his mate is most likely to happen.

- The battle hardened dragon's company is comforting until it gets closer to spring or summer.

- Then he starts showing off his wings and muscular build to you.

- This is also where the draw back takes place.

- He knows exactly how to counter you.

- Your magic does nothing as he's developed a resistance to it, the large dragon hybrid grabbing you and kicking off the ground off into the air.

- Naib's home is disturbing when you're first dragged there.

- Bones of various creatures he's hunted litter the area along with crudely made jewelry and sharp weapons.

- By what Naib does for a living, it's easy to say he does and will kill for his mate.

- He prefers to dawn his mate in bone jewelry unlike Norton's gems and trinkets.

- Naib would be protective and possessive of a mate, as he knows how desperate other dragons are when it comes to competing for mates.

- "You're prey to them, stay here with me."

#yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere male #identity v #yandere male x female #yandere male x reader #yandere identity v #yandere naib subedar #yandere norton campbell

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magical-archives · 3 years ago

Text

Magical Archives - Leona Kingscholar

The dorm leader of Savanaclaw and the second prince of his homeland, Afterglow Savanna. He's strong, clever, and shrewd, and he possess high magic power. However, he takes an arrogant attitude towards everyone and hates to make an effort, always languid and listless. He has the view that “almost all of life is decided at birth, so you don’t gain anything in taking it seriously.”

With his high leadership skills, he serves as the captain of the magical shift club. He finds fun in beating his opponents with ingenuity and plays an active role while being called the Genius Playmaker. However, in the inter-dorm competitions, he has been defeated by Diasomnia in the first match two years in a row.

For the work of his dormmates, he has the principle of giving rewards accordingly. This comes from how the King of Beasts didn’t discriminate against herbivores no matter how small they are, and shared prey equally with even the hated hyenas. Also, like the King of Beasts, he has a scar on his left eye. It was said that the King of Beasts’s scar was a valiant scar gotten from protecting his pack, but even when someone asks Leona how he got his scar, he only says, “I forgot.”

The greenhouse, which was at just the right temperature to make him feel sleepy, is his turf, and he uses it as a place for afternoon naps.

Lab Coat Notes

- He wears the school uniform (has hole for tail) without the vest underneath the coat

- Goggles hang from neck

Expressions Notes

- Has a scar on his left eye

- Has vertical pupils, but they get round in dark places

- He doesn’t have human ears, so be careful when you draw him, depending on the angle

- Ears turn down when he’s surprised

Hairstyle Notes

- Has a hair whorl at the front

- His braids get thinner as it nears the tip

- (referring to the hair sticking up on top of his head) Rather than an ahoge, it’s more like this strand of hair is lagging behind the entire flow of his hair towards the back

- His ears are round. They face forward, since he’s a carnivore

- The hair at the back reaches his shoulder blades

Dorm Leader Uniform Notes

- The back of his stole has seams that look hand-stitched

- Has the Savanaclaw bandanna tied over his stole

- Wears leather chaps

Dorm Leader Staff Notes

- The top is made of a gnarled material like wood or bone

- The gemstone on his magical pen is appended to the top of the staff

- Two beaded accessories

- Two large feathers that look like flight feathers

- Two scraps of fabric wrapped around the staff

Overblot Form Clothing Notes

- The accessories on his arms and legs are asymmetrical

- (referring to the furry thing around his shoulders) Matching with his hair spreading out, the fur is in the image of a silhouette of a lion’s mane

- For the seams on the skirt(?), please put them in by atmosphere/feel instead of being strict with them

Overblot Form Makeup Notes

- Ink is dripping down

#twisted wonderland #magical archives #leona kingscholar #twst leona

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anonniemousefics · 4 years ago

Note

cardan pov ch 21 anon here— I totally wouldn't mind a long, steamy detailed one 😍

Ps - you're a sweetheart to even give the option 🤧

Yessss -- you are my kind of people. (I was actually hoping someone would want this! lol.) Gather around, my thirsty sinners. You asked for it - it’s His Monstrous Bride Part III. (This isn’t all that explicit -- I tried to make it pretty. :) )

(Also I didn’t do much editing - sorry. I need to get back to work. LOL.)

For reference, here’s His Monstrous Bride and His Monstrous Bride Part II and this little steamy Cardan POV drabble from The Wicked King and also this sappy thing.

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

There’s no escaping it this time. Cardan is escorting Jude Duarte back to his bedroom, their bedroom, and there’s absolutely no escaping it. Every eye has been watching them all evening. Surely every conspiring mind has now been examining their relationship from afar for its weaknesses, and Jude must know this, too.

That has to be why she’s taking it this far, Cardan tells himself. She must want to keep up the ruse, a show of their marriage’s fortitude.

So, when the door closes behind them, his first plan is to take the secret passages to the Court of Shadows for the night – as he has every night since Jude returned. He’ll find a cot there and practice attempts at flipping coins through his fingers until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. He’ll try not to think about Jude.

And one day, that will become habit. One day, it won’t be so bad.

Behind him, Jude sighs and sags against the doorframe. When he turns to look at her again, she almost hurts to look at. She is ravishing, draped in decadent gold that glitters like chain mail. If she is exhausted, she hasn’t looked it yet. Or maybe he hasn’t been paying close enough attention – the gown dips perilously low in the front, and it’s been practically impossible to keep his eyes from taking little trips there.

It’s that sight and more that pulls him back a step against his better judgment -- and then another.

“You were very formidable tonight, my queen,” he tells her. He likes calling her his queen. He likes even better the look she gets on her face when she hears it. She seems as little flushed when he steps nearer.

“After that speech you made, it didn’t take much,” she says, looking up at him with those big, warm brown eyes. When she looks at him with admiration like this, he thinks he might actually be something worth loving. Or at least, he will make himself so if it means Jude will always see him like this.

“It cannot be anything other than the truth,” he reminds her. “Or it never could have left my tongue.”

He’s spent many fantasies in his younger days dreaming up villainous soliloquies, but he finds now, looking down at Jude like this, so close and so soft, her eyes glittering, her pink lips parting, his mind drifts to poetry. He wishes he had better words to give her. He wishes he had the magic to make her understand what he feels.

If she could know, maybe then she could feel something in return…

But then, Jude says, her voice low, her cheeks flushing: “You didn’t come to bed last night.”

Cardan scrambles to hide his surprise. After slapping him in the royal rose garden, he’d felt fairly certain she wouldn’t want him anywhere near their bed. He must be misunderstanding…

“I’m here now,” he says.

How many times has he wished he could see into Jude’s mind? He’s lost count at this point. Is she angry with him? Is she plotting? Is she desiring him? He never knows. He can’t keep up. What’s important is that, right now, in this moment, she isn’t moving. She’s still gazing up at him, her eyes flitting over his mouth, and he’s so aware of her warmth. If one of them were to move, they could be touching.

He’s going to try. He must. He’s desperate for her.

Gingerly, carefully, he takes her hand, and she lets their fingers entwine again. She gazes up at him again, like an invitation. Her eyes are so clearly full of hope, with the tiniest quirk of a smile on her lips – and he’s done for. He gives in to the unseen pull that draws him to her lips.

He’s kissed her before, but this. Oh, this. When he’d tricked her into marrying him and traded kisses with her in the dark, it wasn’t even as good as this – and until this, that had been his favorite. In that moment, he’d felt like he was hers, and she his, and for a moment, everything was safe and right. He’d cursed the memory of that feeling while she was in exile, fearing he’d never again have anything so perfect – but here, he thinks he might have been wrong about that. He hopes he was wrong. It feels like she’s surrendering to his lips, arching into him, each kiss a request for another.

He never wants to stop. When she’s like this, he wants to kiss every soft bit of her she’ll let him. He touches fingers to her chin, leaving kisses across her mouth, her cheeks, her jaw. The sigh she lets out when he dips to kiss her neck sends a bolt of desire, hot and severe, all though his whole body.

“You looked like a knight in a story tonight,” he murmurs there. “Possibly a filthy story.”

She kicks him in the leg, but he feels her smile against his skin – he knew she’d love that. He takes her lips again – he would give anything, everything to keep making Jude smile.

Nothing’s slowing down, and he’s dizzy in this pull of heated desire and confusion – where is this going? What is she thinking? Surely, she’ll shove him off soon, like she did in the room behind the dais. But she’s staggering, too -- maybe just as dizzy -- and he presses her to the wall. The air leaves his body when she pulls at his shirt, sliding her fingertips up his back.

There’s no misreading that, right? She’s clearly into this. His tail seems to think so, the little traitor. It’s wrapped itself around her ankle, and the feel of her calf beneath it sends thrills up his spine. It’s so deliciously indecent – he’s losing his head. He wants so much more. His fingers push into her hair – her skin is hot under his hands. More.She wraps her arms over his shoulders, pulling him flush with her curves. More. He takes her in his arms, his hands at her hips, lifting her feet off the floor.

It’s then she draws in a tight breath. Freezes in his arms.

Of course. Of course. He sets her back down. He knew this was coming. This was too much. He’s too much. Now he’s overwhelmed her. Her cheeks are rosy, her eyes bright – her chest (oh, gods, her chest) heaves like she’s been running.

“We need not--” he starts, and he’s out of breath, too. But Jude shakes her head.

“No, just give me a second,” she says, and bites her lip, and Cardan feels absolutely feverish. He wants to bite that lip.

Jude takes a step back. This may be his undoing. If this is going to end poorly, he may end up running off into the night, shrieking like a feral lunatic, never to be seen again.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, which is somehow not reassuring at all. Especially when she turns and fairly flees for the wardrobe.

Cardan is dumbstruck and breathless as he turns, looking wildly around the room for his own exit. What did he do? How did this happen? She seemed just as desperate for him seconds ago – what did he do? His palms are sweaty – was that it? Did his hands disgust her? He tries to dry them on his trousers, which are feeling a little uncomfortable and too tight. Oh, no – was that what she’d noticed? His – his…

Cardan closes his eyes. There’s going to be no coming back from this humiliation. (At least now his trousers are comfortable again.) It’s time to go feral. Time to join the cats of the wild that raised him. This is his destiny, he supposes.

There’s some rustling behind him from the wardrobe, and he knows it’s Jude returning. Probably to tell him it’s best if she finds her own rooms. He takes a deep breath and swallows to steel himself.

And then turns.

Jude.

Jude is – Jude is – Jude Duarte is completely naked.

Cardan makes some completely embarrassing sound in his shock. She is -- oh, gods – she is exquisite. He has always thought her the only real thing in a land of spirits, and she has never looked more real than she does now. That enticing curve of her ears is nothing compared to the full swell of her hips, the heaviness of her breasts, the formidable curve of every toned muscle. He feels more real just looking at her.

She’s biting that lip again, her eyes glittering with mirth.

“Come here.” He means to ask it, but he can’t help it. He must have more of this.

Her gaze smolders as she sashays to him. Then drops to her knees before him.

Is this a dream? It’s a very good one. Cardan really hopes he doesn’t wake up too soon.

“Is this what you imagined I’d be like,” Jude asks, her voice husky, “back in your rooms at Hollow Hall, when you thought of me and hated it? Is this how you pictured my eventual surrender?”

Cardan’s face burns. Admitting his darkest fantasies to Jude Duarte was not something he’d ever planned on doing. But she doesn’t seem to hate the truth of him – she may not love him, but there is clearly something she doesn’t mind so much.

“Yes,” he hears himself admit. He’ll take the gamble.

Jude presses a hand to his thigh. He wonders if she’ll notice the twitching in his pants.

“Then what did I do?” she murmurs.

This can’t be real. Can it? It’s not even been a week since she slapped him. And he’s not sure she won’t do it again if she knows the truly depraved things that once filled his prepubescent mind.

But she also might not…

“I imagine you telling me to do with you whatever I liked.” Another gamble. The truth hasn’t hurt him yet tonight.

Jude splutters out a laugh. Cardan smiles, nervously.

“Really?” She sounds incredulous.

“Along with some begging on your part. A little light groveling.” He cannot believe he’s doing this. He should be slapped. “My fantasies were rife with overweening ambition.”

And then Jude slides back to the cold stone floor, lying on her back before him, and his heart stops. He’s read that in novels before – about sights making the hero’s heart stop. He assumed it was an exaggeration – hyperbole. It is not. He’s not sure how he’s still alive.

“You may do with me whatever you like,” Jude says, extending her arms out to him. “Please oh please. All I want is you.”

She’s teasing him. He knows it. She thrives on trickery. Still. How can he not at least get a little closer? He must at least try…

He draws in a breath. Drops so that he is on all fours, hovering above her. Beneath him, her auburn hair splays out like a fan across the stones, and the hollow at the base of her slender throat darkens with each breath. She reaches her hands to his shoulders, holding him there. Holding, he notes – not pushing away.

He turns his head to kiss her wrist. Her pulse races beneath his lips – he’s not imagining it. He knows he’s not, and it’s then he’s starting to understand that this may not be a trick. Jude wants him. Jude Duarte wants him – even after learning the truths of his darkest imaginings. That is absurd.

That is…utterly glorious.

“Mock me all you like,” he murmurs and brushes back a lock of her hair, tenderly. “Whatever I imagined then, now it is I who would beg and grovel for a kind word from your lips.” Her lips part slightly in surprise – she is the very picture of his desires. “By you,” he says, “I am forever undone.”

And undone as he is, Cardan is helpless to his body’s call. He bends to kiss her again, and when he does, she slides her fingers into his hair, pulling him to her. When he arches against her naked body, he groans, aching with need. Somehow his shirt is undone – he’s not sure which one of them did it. Only that it’s got to go. He wants to feel every inch of her against him. If she’ll let him.

And just when he thinks he has her figured out --

“I’m not mocking,” Jude whispers against his ear.

That stops him.

He pulls back. It is absolutely unbelievable that she has not been teasing him. She truly wants him to do with her as he pleases? There is still so much about Jude Duarte he does not understand.

“We have lived in our armor for so long, you and I. And now I am not sure if either of us knows how to remove it,” he says.

“Is this another riddle?” Jude asks. “And if I answer it, will you go back to kissing me?”

Gods. He will never tire of the puzzle of Jude Duarte.

And now that she seems to be truly offering, truly wanting, he is further surprised to realize how drastically his own wants have changed. Every fantasy he had pales in comparison to witnessing Jude Duarte want him.

“If that’s what you want.” He moves to be at her side. He mentally kicks himself for not sounding more sure of himself. It’s just… she has hated him for so long. And she may not love him ever.

But wanting him. She does want him. That is enough. That is more than enough.

“I told you what I wanted,” Jude challenges. “For you to do with me whatever--”

“No,” he cuts her off. She doesn’t understand. “What you want.”

Show me you want me. He wants to witness the proof.

And she shows him. She straddles his body, and it is better than anything he could have imagined. She is statuesque – she is monumental. He is in awe below her.

“I want--” But she blushes and kisses him instead, her breasts pressed to his chest. She kisses him again and again.

This is what she wants.

Her hands are everywhere – his face, his chest, his stomach. Her fingers are sliding under his trousers.

This is what she wants.

His hands meet hers, and he lifts his hips just slightly to pull off his pants. He watches her face every second, watches for any sign that she’s changed her mind. But she keeps her gaze on his face the whole time – heated. Expectant.

This is what she wants.

He’s aching, wanting, dripping with desire. He holds his breath – she takes him in her hand as she brings them together in a careful slide.

This is what she wants.

She gasps, and he cups a hand to her soft cheek, the other a gentle anchor at her back while she moves slowly. She turns her head and bites his palm, sharp and fierce, a low sound in the back of her throat. It is agony and bliss all at once.

You are what she wants.

He hasn’t done much worthy in the short span of his never-ending life, but somewhere along the line, he must have done something right. He thinks this must be how lion tamers feel – no, better. Jude wants him. She is taking from him all that she wants, and he will give her everything he can. He’ll give her a map and a shovel to dig through the wreckage of his heart. He’ll let her keep any broken bit she likes.

His thoughts leave him completely as they move together as one toward their pleasure and its blissful pain. He knows only that she sighs his name against his skin, and it is the first time in these many long months that he’s actually felt like a king.

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

Tagging: @yellowavocadopit, @dagypsygirl, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @booklover-sleeplover, @mwejh, @courtofjurdan, @faeriequeenofwest, @sugawsites, @loveyourselfsolid, @owl0y0s, @feelinglikecleopatra, @akaloto, @charrise, @persephxnecoven, @raging-bisexual-alert, @rteme, @nahthanks, @addies-invisible-life, @elorcanislife, @snusbandxknifewife, @poeticbrownmermaid, @duarteegreenbriar, @thefolkofthefic, @alittledribbledrabble, @carmensworld17, @annejulianneh111, @amandlas, @elriel4life, @idk-what-name-to-use, @thewickedkings, @juliazato, @woodsbeyond1, @booksmusicandgoodvibes,

#jurdan #jurdan fanfic #cardan pov #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #the folk of the air #the queen of nothing #qon chapter 21 #queen of nothing chapter 21 #jude x cardan #fic: his monstrous bride #fanfiction #tfota fanfiction

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lazywonderlvnd · 4 years ago

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*hesitantly steps in the box* Umm.. soo.. I was listening to Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift again and that song (is awesome btw if you haven't listened to it already) just gives me such MAJOR drarry vibes .. like -

" And I screamed, 'for whatever it's worth I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?' He looks up grinning like a devil. "

Like if that's not drarry I'd chomp my pillows. So .. *twiddling thumbs* could you pls write something with that line as a prompt?? Pretty please 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️ maybe use the song as inspiration.. idk? Whatever you like. ALSO, don't forget I STILL LOVE YOU that ain't changing yet and you haven't seen the last of me! Imma tail after you for eternity and you better take that as the threat it is! *throws love at you* BYE!! ❤️❤️ *vaults outside the box*

my sweetest most loved angel!! thank u so much for this prompt based on a BOP i was obsessed w when the album first came out. it got sm longer than it was meant to be, so it can be found on ao3 as well!! i hope u like it ilysm ❤️❤️❤️❤️

warnings for minor drug use (weed) and implied suicide of a minor character (lucius, extremely vague reference but pls be aware!)

rating: e word count: ~5k

When Pansy asked him how it started, Draco discovered that he didn’t know what to tell her.

Technically, though, it had started at Ernie Macmillan’s party in the beginning of summer, with the cloying scent of Freesias and Freedom Roses (“Imported from the States,” Ernie told Draco pompously, when he asked) and all those string-lights dangling from the cedar pergola, perennial balls of fire inside their clear bubbles like tiny trapped suns. Cheap beer in plastic cups, Marlboro cigarettes, and some stupid Muggle game ... darts.

Technically.

* * *

“Get off me, Potter,” Draco says in a failed whisper. He’s laughing and drunk and fuzzy warm under a sprawling summer’s night sky that looks like black paint. Potter tastes like Guinness every time he kisses him, and his hands are surprisingly soft. In direct opposition to his own command he pulls Potter in by the face and glues their mouths back together ravenously. The alcohol makes him sloppy (he likes it, though — the sloppiness of it) and Potter’s skin is warm where Draco slides his hand under an ugly Muggle band T-shirt to touch.

Around the corner, he can hear music coming from the patio where nearly every single one of their former classmates are gathered, drinking and laughing and getting along famously with a much-needed buffer of five years between them and their Hogwarts days.

Much-needed for himself and Potter as well. Apparently.

He sees him sometimes, at get-togethers like this or around the Ministry, once or twice at a dinner party thrown by a mutual friend. They’re always cordial. He hasn’t insulted Potter to his face in five years.

Except for tonight, when he couldn’t help himself loudly drawing attention to the similarities between Potter’s hair and one of the shrubs in the garden. But they’re kissing now round the side of the house and because of that he’s quite glad for his slip. And it’s their five-year reunion, so. What would it be without some bickering between the two of them?

Potter presses him into the bricks and snogs him breathless, only he keeps grinning and laughing and ruining everything just when Draco starts losing himself in it.

“Quit laughing,” he scolds him. “You’re the worst, Potter. No etiquette at all.”

“That’s rude,” Potter says. His breath wafts across Draco’s mouth. His eyes are excessively green behind their round frames, which have not changed since their school days. The scar is mostly hidden beneath his wild fringe, save for the very bottom where it slashes neatly through a dark eyebrow and touches his eyelid. “I can’t help it, I’m pissed good and proper.”

His hand moves to Draco’s hip and even through the thickness of the alcohol coating his brain like a muffler he feels that touch clear and ripe as daybreak.

“So that’s why you’ve decided to snog me rather than …” He waves a hand vaguely, in lieu of the proper witticism with which he might normally have trounced Potter. “You know. Beat me to a pulp.”

“I only did that one time,” Potter says, grinning. Grinning and moving his thumb in circles on Draco’s hip. “And it was because you were being a twat. And I didn’t beat you to a pulp. You’re so dramatic.”

“Semantics,” Draco says. “I had a bloody nose.”

“And you deserved it.”

“Now who’s being rude?”

Potter kisses him again.

Guinness and Freesias.

* * *

“Macmillan’s party,” he told Pansy. “He kissed me.”

“So that’s where you disappeared to.” She looked smug. Her inch-long nails were sharpened to a point and painted a glossy black, and she drummed them against her cheek, the way a cat flicks its tail. “I’m surprised you kept it from me this whole time.”

“Well,” said Draco, lowering his gaze to his glass of wine and watching it flirt dangerously with the lip as he swirled it. His cheeks felt warm, but he wasn’t embarrassed. “We snuck around.”

Right, maybe a little embarrassed. Mostly conflicted.

“Oh?” For a single syllable the laughter underneath was remarkably transparent.

He looked up, eyebrows lifted. “Yes,” he said a little defensively. “For obvious reasons. At first it was just sex. A lot of it, so he usually came here. Apparently Granger and the Weasel are notorious for popping round his place unexpectedly.”

* * *

He feels opened up all over again every time Potter fucks into him, unhurried and so careful. His hand is hot on Draco’s thigh, both of them sticky with sweat and come. This has to be their third round at least, and Draco’s sluggish brain insists it might actually be four.

An open window lets in the late afternoon air, humid and drowsy and perfumed heavily with flowers (a la Macmillan, Draco planted Freesias and Freedom Roses outside his bedroom window and helped them along to full bloom with some careful magic). Potter’s hair is damp with sweat — from exertion and the relentless heat of July — and Draco slides his fingers into it, tangles them and pulls the way he’s learned Potter likes. If he’s honest, he’s harboured a very secret and very desperate yearning to touch Potter’s hair since he was quite young. He doesn’t know why.

Well, maybe he knows why.

Potter makes a quiet, whimpered noise that curls Draco’s toes. He speeds up his hips, closing in on his orgasm and putting his face in Draco’s neck even though it’s too fucking hot for it.

“Fuck,” Draco whines. He tries to lift his leg higher, wrap it around Potter’s waist to get that perfect angle, but they’re too slick with sweat and he lets out a frustrated noise when it falls back to the bed. “Potter,” he says helplessly, arching into each thrust and shaking with the effort. This third (fourth?) orgasm is building too slowly, sitting there hard and stubborn and heavy in his gut and refusing to be coaxed to completion. He’s dripping with the effort, muscles quivering. “Please — I need —”

But he seems to have figured it out for himself. He scoots forward, lifting Draco’s arse higher off the bed and bending him nearly in half. The angle helps him go deeper and he’s suddenly nudging Draco’s oversensitive prostate every time he fucks back in.

“Right there,” Draco gasps, tensing as this new angle lights a fire under his elusive orgasm. His cock is leaking but he doesn’t have the strength or energy to get a hand around it. Potter’s grunting with the effort of fucking him, sweat dripping down his temples and making his neck and torso gleam. “Right there, god, right there, please, I’m so close —”

Potter braces himself and redoubles his efforts, and it’s like he’s reached inside Draco and sunk his claws into that building storm in his belly because suddenly it’s ripped right out of him in a colossal wave of euphoria that approaches too much, cock spurting untouched between them . Potter keeps moving inside him while he rides it out, and at some point he feels the warm, wet explosion of Potter emptying in him, mumbling incoherent things that include Draco’s name.

They come down together too. Draco is clutching Potter’s arms and trying to catch his breath and Potter is trembling and clutching him back like an anchor in a veritable ocean of sensation.

It’s like this every time.

When Potter drops down onto the bed beside him Draco rolls over and kisses him, long and deep and satisfying, and Potter reciprocates with the kind of intensity that is completely unique to him as a person.

“That one was particularly good,” says Potter, and Draco laughs.

When he feels like moving, he knows that Potter will get up and go to Draco’s kitchen and make tea for both of them, and he won’t need to ask what Draco likes, because he remembered after the first time. They’ll drink it naked in bed as the sun sets on another endless summer day and transforms before their eyes into a humid and pungent summer night, in the midst of which they will fuck at least three more times, and Potter will keep smelling like sweat and bergamot and boy, and Draco will keep feeling starved for him.

And they won’t talk about it.

* * *

“And?” Pansy said.

“And what?”

“You said ‘at first,’” she pointed out, and arched a groomed eyebrow. “When did it turn into more than just sex?”

Draco tamped down on a smile, because that would have been more emotion than he cared to show at the moment. To Pansy or to himself.

He swirled his wine again and took a long sip, stalling. He wanted — needed, really — to talk this out with her, but he was becoming aware of an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest which was suggesting to him that he didn’t want to share everything. Not because he was embarrassed, but, well … it was private. It was between him and Harry.

“There was this one night he came over later than he was supposed to because of work,” Draco said. The memory stirred some emotion. He hadn’t thought of it in a while. “He had this bloody huge takeout bag of Thai food.”

* * *

He sets it down on Draco’s desk, takes out a container, and after toeing off his shoes drops sideways onto Draco’s bed with it and uses chopsticks to shovel in a mouthful of noodles. Draco watches this in awe.

“Want some?” Harry asks once he’s swallowed (small blessings). There’s grease around his mouth. “There’s a million other things in the bag but you have to get it yourself. I’m dead tired.”

Draco thinks of asking what the hell is going on, because they’re supposed to be fucking by now, but something stops him. Harry really does look exhausted but quite content eating his Thai food on Draco’s bed, and he doesn’t have the heart to berate him for it or remind him that they’re fuck buddies, not friends, and that if he’d wanted to eat and lounge about perhaps he should’ve stayed at home.

And the food really does smell good.

He gets up and fishes another container out of the bag that turns out to be some sort of heavenly-smelling marinated beef, which he brings back to the bed. Harry’s rolled onto his back and has the container of noodles balanced on his stomach.

“They thought they found a Horcrux on a raid,” he says. His voice is perfectly casual, but Draco thinks he can see something troubled in his eyes. He has one foot crossed over the other and it’s bouncing anxiously; he doesn’t think Harry’s aware of doing it. “Wasn’t. Obviously.”

“But they needed your expert advice to be sure.”

“Yeah.” Harry looks at him, then his food. “Is that the beef?”

“Yes it is.”

“Good?”

“Haven’t tried it yet.”

He opens the container and chooses a piece, but instead of lifting it to his mouth he follows some crazy impulse and hovers it over Harry’s instead.

“Open, Scarhead,” he says. Harry blinks but does it, and Draco drops it in. He smiles, then chews.

“Brilliant.”

* * *

“We ate it instead of fucking. It was the first time I realised something had shifted.”

“And you let it shift?”

The question gave him pause. He didn’t answer right away, mulling it over. It made it sound as if he’d had a choice, and that wasn’t quite right.

“It already had,” he said finally. “It wasn’t a matter of letting it; by the time I noticed, it had already happened. Otherwise he wouldn’t have come over with the food.”

“But you did let it continue,” said Pansy. She wasn’t antagonising him, nor accusing him of anything. She looked amused, but not in a way that was at his expense. Pansy was both a twat and a fiercely good friend, the combination of which meant she would do nothing more or less than hold up a mirror and force you to look at yourself, gruesome as the experience inevitably wound up being. “Even after you realised he had feelings for you.”

Draco swallowed. He’d not heard it said aloud before now.

“Yes,” he said. “It felt good. Knowing he fancied me.”

* * *

Harry’s shameless in his staring.

He stands in the doorway of the ensuite bathroom and watches Draco like he’s been invited to do so. Draco pretends not to notice, stretched out in a tub full of bubbles facing the opposite way. There’s incense burning, and candles. Harry is completely silent, but Draco could feel those eyes on him from across a crowded hall.

They fucked a few hours ago and fell asleep afterwards. Draco pretended not to think about it, but had actually made the conscious decision to let Harry continue sleeping when he woke up and decided he wanted a bath.

When he can’t take it anymore he opens his eyes and tilts his head back and a little to the side, just enough that he gets Potter in his peripherals.

“Well?” he says.

“Well what?”

“Join me, won’t you?”

Harry snorts. Then there’s a quiver of magic in the air, and a small, utilitarian chair appears out of thin air beside the tub. Harry sits down in it. He’s holding the joint they’d only gotten halfway through earlier.

He’s in his jeans and nothing else, all limbs and sparse chest hair, and when he crosses a leg over the other one, elbow resting on his knee as he hits the joint, Draco feels a bone-deep attraction to him that’s beyond physical.

“May I?” Draco asks. Harry hands it over and Draco inhales deeply before returning it. The humidity of the room mixes with the smoke and the smell of marijuana, pungent and cloying like the flowers.

After a length of silence, Draco says, “Will you read me something?”

“Will I what?”

He takes his wand from the floor and Summons a book from the shelf in his room — one of his poetry collections comes sweeping in through the cracked door and into Harry’s lap. Harry sticks the joint between his lips and starts rifling through it with his glasses all fogged up.

When he starts reading Byron (“I had a dream, which was not all a dream”) Draco smiles and sinks deeper into the hot water and bubbles, letting Harry’s voice lull him into a pleasant stupor.

* * *

“So you led him on,” said Pansy. “Because you liked his attention.”

He stared at her, then let his gaze drop to his wine again. Had he?

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.”

“Well,” she said, smiling wryly, “I’m only saying it as you’ve told it to me. Maybe if it sounds bad, it is bad. Some things are that simple, darling. Unless there’s more to it.”

“Like what?” he said, not looking at her. There was a touch of pouty defiance in his voice he knew Pansy would detect instantly. He heard her sigh.

“What exactly happened yesterday, Draco? You didn’t give me any context.”

“What context do you need?” he muttered. “He told me he loved me.”

* * *

They’ve finished an entire bottle of wine between them. He’s not drunk, but he’s pleasantly buzzed. Harry’s sprawled on his back, T-shirt rucked up just below his navel so Draco can see the dark trail of hair leading below his jeans. There’s something implicitly erotic about the movement of his chest when he breathes, his hands folded behind his head, one leg stretched the length of the bed and the other bent at the knee.

He opens his eyes suddenly and grins when he sees Draco looking at him.

“That wine just made me tired,” he says.

“So go to sleep,” says Draco. He takes a last swig, emptying it, and sets the bottle aside on his night table. He stretches his arms over his head and arches his back, yawning widely, thinking perhaps he’ll give into the tempting allure of sleep as well when Harry says, “I told Hermione about us.”

So he’s not sleeping, then. His stomach clenches hard and a completely irrational sense of panic rises in his throat.

“Us?” he says slowly, sitting up straighter. “What ‘us’?”

Harry looks at him upside-down, then rolls over and rises to his knees. He stares at Draco blankly.

“‘What us?’” he repeats.

“Yes,” says Draco. “What ‘us’?”

“Us,” Harry says. His voice is lower than usual. The word is starting to sound weird and lose meaning. “You and me, Draco.”

“‘You and me?’ Harry, there’s no you and me. We’re just fucking. What do you … what do you mean, you told Granger? Told her what?”

Harry looks … well, he looks fucking crushed. And angry. Draco forces himself not to look away.

“I told her I’d been seeing you,” he says quietly. There’s something … not threatening, but close to it, in his voice.

“Sure,” says Draco. “I see you three times a week, sometimes four. I s’pose if you feel the need to fill Granger in on everything you do with every second of your day —”

“Shut up, Draco,” Harry says. “You know what I meant.”

Draco glares at him. He gets off the bed, slightly lightheaded from the wine, horrified by the emotions welling up inside him right behind the panic, and he points at his bedroom door.

“Get out,” he says.

“Are you serious?”

“Go!” he says loudly, voice rising. “If you’re gonna start turning this into something it definitely is not then get out of my flat, Potter.” As usual the window is open, but it’s the third of September and getting chilly finally and Draco’s Freesias and Freedom Roses started wilting last week. There’s a chilly breeze coming into that room that is utterly barren of the sweet smells of summer he associates with Harry these days. “It’s time we ended this anyway,” he says. “Summer’s over.”

“So?” From his position kneeling on Draco’s bed Harry shouldn’t feel imposing at all, but he does. There’s no sparkle of humour in his eyes, none of the softness Draco’s gotten used to seeing there. He looks like someone who’s realised they’ve been betrayed.

Worse than that. Someone who’s been betrayed and realises they should have seen it coming.

“What the fuck does summer have to do with anything?”

“Ever heard of a summer fling, Potter? We’re not ‘seeing each other’.”

Harry finally gets off the bed. Draco’s stomach clenches again, more painfully this time. He doesn’t feel bad, he tells himself — this is Harry’s fault. His fault for making a big deal out of something easy and fun and, most of all, temporary. For ruining this with feelings.

“That’s not what this was,” Harry says. It’s not an argumentative tone; rather, he sounds disappointed. Devastated, and disappointed. And that look of betrayal, like he’s surprised but not … that surprised.

That hurts.

“This was as real as it gets, Draco,” he says matter-of-factly. “You and I don’t have the capability of doing anything as shallow as a fling.”

“Well, Potter,” says Draco, straining to maintain his level voice, “congratulations, because that is the most disgusting, romanticised, Gryffindorian piece of shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah?” He grabs up his wand from the bedside table and stuffs it into his jeans pocket. “Well here’s another: I love you. You complete fucking prick.”

Draco stares after him as he leaves the room, cowed for the moment. He hears Harry take the Floo powder off his mantle, hears the fire start, and then the sound of Potter disappearing.

And he feels hollow suddenly.

* * *

“And he said it completely out of the blue?”

Draco set his wine aside. He was suddenly feeling too sick to put anything else in his body.

“Sort of,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. “He was trying to make something out of nothing. He was just making a point, trying to guilt me, I don’t even think he meant it.”

Pansy said nothing for so long that Draco finally looked up. She had an eyebrow raised.

“Do you really believe that?” she said.

Draco didn’t answer right away. He glanced at the bottle of wine on the table and thought about the way it always tasted a little sweeter on Harry’s lips.

“I don’t know,” he said. “No. But it doesn’t change anything. It was a summer thing, not a … a relationship, for crying out loud. Like I’d date Potter.”

“Why not?”

Draco scoffed. “Why not? Pansy, please. He’s a …”

“A …?”

“He’s an idiot! He’s Potter! He’s …” He couldn’t think of the right word, something bad enough to express the audacity, the gall , for Potter to think even for a second that they could …

“Draco Malfoy,” said Pansy. She was smirking. “You love him too.”

Had he felt sick before? Now he was going to be sick.

“I never would’ve imagined it,” she went on, seeming to take pleasure from his outrage and humiliation. The bint. “Look at you, you’re blushing! Oh my god,” she laughed. And then she stopped laughing, and instead the weight of her own words appeared to descend on her. “Oh my god. You do, don’t you? You are arse over tits for Harry Potter —”

He was up and out of his chair before she’d finished the last word, absurdly, embarrassingly on the verge of tears all of a sudden.

“Draco —”

“I’m glad this can serve as your entertainment for the week, Pansy,” he said. A tear rolled down his cheek — could he be any more histrionic? — and he brushed it away furiously.

“Draco, no —”

“Call Blaise, tell him!” he shouted. “You two can have a good laugh over it —”

“Draco —”

“Poor Draco’s fucked himself over again, what a stupid wanker!”

Pansy got up. He slapped her hand away when she reached for him, but she only came at him again and grabbed it this time when he swatted at her, enfolding it in both of hers. He closed his eyes and hiccoughed and two more tears came.

“Darling, will you please listen to me?” she said softly. It sounded eerily like his mother, which only made him feel young and childish. He tugged his arm away and she let him go, but he didn’t move any farther away. “I am not laughing at you,” she told him. “Blaise might, but that’s because Blaise has a black hole for a heart, Draco, the only emotion he’s ever felt is disdain.” Against his will, Draco chuckled wetly. Pansy smiled and took his hand again, tentatively. He allowed it. “ I think it’s lovely that you have feelings for him. I don’t understand what’s got you so upset, I mean … I know it’s Potter, but we’re not teenagers anymore, right? Who cares?”

Draco exhaled a long sigh.

“He let my father go to Azkaban,” he said softly, looking into her eyes. He saw comprehension dawning. “How can I be with someone who could’ve saved my father’s life and chose not to, Pansy?”

“No one could have saved your father, Draco,” said Pansy gravely. His throat was tight, swollen. He hated that he was hanging on her words, looking for truth in them, wanting to hear something that would make this okay. “He would have done the same thing if they’d let him go back to the manor. It’s not your fault or your mum’s or Potter’s.”

“But —”

“But what?” she cut him off sharply. “Draco, please don’t let your father keep controlling your life from the grave! My god, you deserve happiness, don’t you see that? Even if it’s Potter! In fact, I … I think that could be really good.”

“What, being with Potter?”

“Yes, being with Potter,” she said. “Darling, I say this because I love you: you need to grow a pair of bollocks and start taking control of your own life. I’m not finished!” she added when he opened his mouth to retort. “I understand that it feels like a betrayal of your father, I do, and I’m not saying you can’t have your cherished memories of him, but Draco … you cannot live your life in his shadow, doing things because it’s what he’d want or wouldn’t want. I think that choosing to explore these feelings you have for Potter is the bravest and healthiest thing you could possibly do for yourself.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes wet though the tears had stopped falling.

“What if it doesn’t last?” he said finally. “What if next week he realises it was a huge mistake?”

“First of all, I doubt that,” said Pansy with a roll of her eyes that was clearly meant to be teasing. “You said you’ve been seeing him all summer, that’s plenty of time to have gotten sick of you. And, even if that did happen, I still think it would be entirely worth that week of being disgustingly in love.”

“Do you?” he drawled.

“Yes! I do!” She picked up his discarded wine glass from before and held it up. “Does the effect of alcohol last forever?”

“No …”

“Of course not! And we don’t expect it to. We expect to have fun while we’re drunk and it’ll last as long as it lasts.”

“Dating someone isn’t like being drunk, Pansy,” Draco said sourly.

“Oh, that’s not the point ,” she huffed. “We don’t do things because we know they’ll last forever, we do them because we want to. In the moment.”

“Sounds irresponsible.”

“Well, of course it is,” she scoffed. “Love is completely irresponsible, that’s the fun of it, Draco. Now take this,” she shoved the glass of wine into his hand, almost spilling it. “Drink up, and then get your arse over to his flat and fix this.”

* * *

Granger opened the door. Draco sighed.

“Hello, Granger,” he said lamely. Her raised eyebrows said she was surprised and thoroughly unimpressed by his appearance.

“Malfoy,” she said.

“Is Potter in?”

“I guess that depends.”

“On?”

She looked at him, dark brown eyes impenetrable. Then she closed the front door behind her.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“To talk to him,” he said tightly. As if this whole thing wasn’t bad enough, now he had to pass a test to get past Granger the bridge troll. “I thought he told you —”

“He did,” she said flatly. “And about yesterday.”

“Well I’m here to apologise,” said Draco. Granger’s eyebrows lifted again. Still unimpressed. “And to tell him …” He sighed again and broke eye contact, willing himself not to give up, not to take this as a sign he should just go home and ream into Pansy for giving him such bad advice.

“Malfoy.” He looked up. Her voice was softer now, and her eyes seemed a little less hard. “What are you doing? You really hurt him, you know.”

“I know,” he said stiffly. “I said I’m here to apologise.”

“Well he doesn’t need an apology,” she said. “If you’re only going to let him down again —”

“I’m not.” He rubbed his forehead and looked at her again, exasperated, defeated. “I’ve … had some sense talked into me.”

She looked like it was the last thing she’d been expecting.

“Have you?”

“Yes,” he said. “So would you please get him for me before I lose my nerve?”

It was the right thing to say. Her expression melted into something much softer and he fancied he even saw the beginnings of a smile.

“Can I ask who affected this change of heart?”

“Pansy,” he said. And, when Granger seemed taken aback, “She’s very wise when she feels like it.”

“I see. Well …” She still looked a bit conflicted, eyeing him and then putting her hand on the doorknob. “All right. I’ll tell him you’re here, anyway, but he was really hurt, Malfoy. I don’t know if he’ll want to hear it.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said.

Granger eyed him another moment and then went back inside, shutting the door behind her. Draco only had to wait a minute before it was opening again, and this time Harry came out. The sight of him made Draco’s heart feel tender and sore.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, Potter.”

He waited to see if Harry would say anything else but he didn’t. He only stared at Draco expectantly, arms folded, in all ways closed off.

“I came to apologise,” said Draco.

“Well you can keep it,” said Harry. “I don’t need an apology because you told me the truth.”

“It wasn’t the truth, Potter,” Draco said quietly. “Opposite, really.”

Harry was silent. Then, “You made me feel like shit, Draco.”

“I know. I’m sorry. You freaked me out, springing it on me like that.”

A beat, then two, and then suddenly Harry was dropping his arms and sighing and he looked at Draco with so much vulnerability he nearly had to turn away from it.

“I didn’t mean to tell you …” He licked his lips, scratched his arm. It reminded Draco that beneath everything, Harry was still the same awkward dorky leader-of-the-losers he’d always been, just with a bit more confidence now and the title of Official Saviour of the Wizarding World. “I wouldn’t have said that if … I was just angry.”

He didn’t need to ask what Harry was referring to.

“I know.”

“Not that I didn’t … I mean, I … I do —”

“Please don’t say it again,” Draco said. Harry laughed.

“Right. I just meant … I really do have feelings for you, Draco. Like … mad, crazy feelings, y’know? I don’t want it to be a fling.”

“It wasn’t a fling,” he said. He moved a little closer and Harry watched him carefully, eyes flickering once down to Draco’s mouth. “I didn’t even sleep with anyone else the whole time.”

“Well that’s good to know,” said Harry sardonically. But he was smiling, so Draco found himself smiling tentatively as well.

“I wanna be with you, Potter. Properly. I thought …” But he shakes his head, deciding that now isn’t the time to explain about his father. “I thought it was a stupid idea. Now I realise that it probably is, but that I don’t really care much. I’ve decided to ignore my better judgment this one time.”

“That’s quite Gryffindor of you,” Harry commented drily.

“Yes, well.”

“So I go against your better judgment, then?”

“Potter,” Draco sighed. “Please, I don’t mean it like —”

“I’m taking the piss, Draco,” Harry cut him off. He reached for Draco’s waist and pulled him close, and before Draco could get his breath back from a short, surprised intake of breath Harry’s mouth was on his, warm and familiar and soothing. He brought his hands to Harry’s face and kissed back without bothering to hide his overwhelming relief.

Harry chased his mouth when he pulled away and Draco breathed out a laugh, holding him at bay with a hand on his chest.

“We have plenty of time,” he said. “D’you wanna come over later tonight, after your friends leave?”

“What? No, come in.” He took Draco’s hand and gestured with his head towards the door. “Please. It’s just Ron and Hermione. They know everything.”

“Really?” Draco drawled. “And you think Weasley won’t try to kill me?”

“I promise not to let him,” Harry grinned. “Please, Draco. You said you wanted to do this properly, right?”

He thought of what Pansy said about being irresponsible, and decided it was worth a try at least.

“Okay,” he said. Harry beamed and tugged him inside.

Towards his ultimate downfall or towards the beginning of the rest of his life, he didn’t know. That, as Pansy would have said, was the fun of it.

#anna writes #answered #drarry fic #god i had sm fun writing this tysm for the prompt 😩

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oathofoaksart · 4 years ago

Photo

YOUNG JUSTICE OC: KITSUNE

bio under the cut!

BASICS Name: Leiko Ara A.K.A: Kitsune; Lei, Kit, L.A [only by Charlie] Age: 16 [S1 Era], 21 [S2 Era] Gender: Cisgender Female Orientation: Grayromantic Bisexual

Skin: Fair Hair: Plum-Black Eyes: Black, fully golden and slit-pupiled as Kitsune Height: 5'6”, 6’1” in platforms Build: Lithe, built like a dancer Distinctions: Distinctly pretty. Sharpened canines and nails. A sharp dresser, obviously wealthy, rarely seen without some type of heel.

RELATIONS Parents: Ryuu Ara and Cho Miyamotou [estranged] Siblings: N/A Friends: Wally “Kid Flash” West, Zatanna Zatara, M’gann “Miss Martian” M’orzz, Raquel “Rocket” Irving, Kaldur’ahm “Aqualad”, Dick “Robin” Grayson, Conner “Superboy” Kent, Artemis Crock, Haley Overbea [OC] Partner/s: Wally “Kid Flash/Flash III” West (ev. post-S3) Misc.: Charles “Scribe” Jenson [OC], Penelope “Poppet” Caskett [@PoltergeistPrincessa] Affiliations: The Spiral, The Team

PERSONALITY Personality Type: ENTP-A [Assertive Debater] Temperament: Choleric-Sanguine Alignment: Chaotic Good Clever | Self-Assured | Driven | Arrogant | Spiteful

Aristocratic in both upbringing and nature, Leiko likes to carry herself with regality. Her confidence and well-honed charm makes her a popular figure among her school peers, even though she keeps everyone at a cool arm's length. Her social aloofness leaves her with little to no close friends, which she figures is just as well, since she finds friends to be a waste of time.

Around others in the heroic scene, Leiko allows herself to show off. She’s known for her theatrical and flamboyant attitude, topped with a haughtiness she cares little to subdue. She’s assertive, witty, and adores a challenge. She lets this completely unfurl as the vain and dramatic Kitsune, who views the world as her stage and anyone watching her audience.

Leiko struggles with unlearning a deep-seated cynicism against others and is often skeptical of actions claimed to be done out of good will, which clashes with the ethics of heroism. Her grasp on empathy leaves much to be desired as well; she can be condescending, sharp, and impatient when the situation calls for exactly the opposite.

Still, steadily Leiko finds herself learning humility, trust, and care from her teammates, along the way forming friendships no Swiss bank account could buy.

ABILITIES AND WEAKNESSES

Powers and Abilities:

Physiology:

Lei doesn’t possess a human soul, but of that of her namesake, a kitsune. Her “soul” is instead a Hoshi no Tama, usually referred to as her soul bead. It is a fist-sized pearl that resides within her body. This is the source of her magic as well as her heightened physical attributes.

Enhanced Senses: Lei demonstrates fox-like senses. She sees just as well at night as she does during the day, hears better than a normal human, and has a better sense of smell. This doubles in the supernatural side, she can see, hear, and smell beyond the mortal plane.

Enhanced Physiology: Lei exhibits above-average speed, strength, endurance and rarely if ever comes down with diseases, viruses and the like.

Onmyodo: A traditional Japanese occultism

Illusion Magic: Lei’s strongest suit is her hold over illusion spells. Using a variety of paper charms, mirrors, physical cues, written and verbal spells, she's able to create confusion over her opponent. These illusions range from visual to audial, making it difficult to rely on one's own senses. Her illusions are often grandiose, jarringly colorful, with nods to the overall aesthetic influence of traditional Japanese art forms. In turn makes her relatively immune to similar tactics.

Barriers: Can alternately use barriers as a sort of defense or a barring mechanism. Barriers set up by paper charms are stronger and more durable than barriers set by simple verbal spells, however combining both techniques grants the best results.

Pyrokinesis: Lei’s kitsunebi is a mystic fire she can conjure in the form of pillars and spheres. Notably different to “mortal” flame, as it burns exclusively supernatural/otherworldly beings, but brings the sensation of weakness and illness to the human body.

Weapons and Inventory:

Enchanted Parasol:

Kit’s go-to weapon. By reaching over her shoulder, the same way one would unsheath a sword, her oil paper parasol materializes into her hand in a burst of flame. It serves both as a defensive and offensive tool.

Closed: While in her hands it doesn’t appear to weigh any more than a regular parasol, in combat it carries an inexplicable weight, able to break concrete. She uses it as a melee weapon, much like a bat or a club. Kit also uses it as a makeshift wand/staff, for bigger and more complex spells. And a favorite stun tactic of hers is to mimic pumping the action to a shotgun, aiming her parasol and “firing” it. It creates a momentary illusion of being “shot” to whomever her target may have been.

Open: Popping it open creates a quick-time personal shield, able to deflect various attacks and withstand a fair amount of explosive power. Ducking behind it obscures her from her opponent and she uses this window of time to work up a spell. Spinning the canopy of her parasol causes momentary dizziness. When jumping off of highland, the parasol allows Kit to glide for long distances (the amount of time and smoothness of the glide suffers when another person is in tow).

Ofuda: These paper charms can be used as delayed “bombs” affected by sticking them into walls, either simply timed or activated by touch. They also serve for warding spells. Gohei: A summoned short wand with a decorative paper trail, the length of the trail stretches during use. Lei uses it as a sort of weaponized gymnast ribbon, or a whip. Most effective against intaginable objects or enemies. Balance Charm: With Scribe's help and after many mishaps, Kit wears a beaded charm around her ankle which enables her limited enhanced movement. She appears to glide along, unweighted, making her movements seem feather light. It helps slow or cushion short distance falls and balance on unprobable surfaces. May also explain how she manages to fight in heels. Spellbook: Kit carries a small notebook with variant spells written herself for safe-keeping and for a quick reference check. Mirrors: Kit holds a small, two-faced mirror. The mirror serves to see through glamour illusions or create more intricate illusions of her own; more often than not, she uses it to admire a makeup job well done. Purification Salt: Ghosts in particular are vulnerable to salt, circles of it makes areas inaccessible to them. Calligraphy Set: A horse-hair brush, inkwell and a small stash of paper for written spells

Limitations and Weaknesses:

Water and Aquatic Environments: As host of a fire kitsune, Kitsune’s main and biggest weakness is water. Being around areas with large amounts of water dampens the potency of her magic, being doused in it cuts off completely until she dries off. While her parasol helps repel rain and small splashes, it can only do so much. The water effect includes any type, Lei incapacitaed by things such as baths and showers as well until she properly dries herself off.

Cynophobia: Lei’s “unprompted” fear of dogs, or really any sort of canine that aren’t foxes, can be traced back to Japanese folklore. Dogs were considered enemies of foxes, being used to hunt them down. People accused of being possessed by, or being kitsune, were sometimes forced to be licked head to toe by dogs in order to expel the demon to it’s true form. Dogs make Lei largely uncomfortable at best, aggressive dogs will either send her into a state of frozen terror or at worst, unabashed panic.

HISTORY [TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL HARASSMENT]

The only child of Ryuu Ara, a successful luxury hotel chain owner and president, Leiko grew up with the world served to her on a silver platter. She enrolled in the best schools, excelling in academics, popularity, and was starting to make headway as a teen model. Leiko formed into a pretty, precocious, if pretentious, girl.

At age 14, after wrapping up a student council meeting afterschool, the student body president forced her into a corner when she’d turned him down for a date. The boy grew increasingly aggressive, but was stopped from going beyond grasping at her blazer when a brilliant white flame unfurled from Leiko’s hands. She fled the second she found an opening, calling for help until she caught the attention of school security. The boy was found unconscious, but physically unharmed. (She would later find out, he complained of sudden illness and a downslide of rotten luck, with little to no memory on how he’d been knocked cold.)

Ryuu spared no expense on making sure justice was properly handed out, although that was simple when compared to the news Leiko gave him about her new ability to conjure flame. But he’d taken the revelation far easier than Leiko thought he would. Ryuu admitted it was something he’d been somewhat expecting, even dreading.

Leiko’s mother was something of a taboo subject. Outside of knowing her name was Cho (Ryuu never mentioned her maiden name) and that there had been an ugly divorce shortly after Leiko was born, she didn’t know much else. Even then, her father didn’t go into specifics beyond blaming Cho for Leiko’s newly discovered “peculiarity.” Ryuu ultimately decided it was best for Leiko to pretend she hadn’t discovered it. She had a bright future ahead of her as his heir and it wouldn’t be marred by her mother’s blood. Leiko obeyed despite her protests. They’d both come to realize, however, fire was just the beginning.

Over the following weeks, more abilities came to emerge, from heightened senses to supernatural awareness. She struggled under the pressure of maintaining the semblance of being normal. The weight of stress and desperation finally proved too much for Leiko, leading to a discussion gone sour, ending only when she noticed Ryuu backing away from the looming shadow of a four-tailed fox she cast on the wall. She would miss the following days of school when her eyes refused to revert back from their completely golden, slit-pupiled appearance.

Resigned, Ryuu took to looking into someone who could help Leiko with her magic troubles as this was beyond his reach.

That someone came to be a man by the name Scribe, a semi-public mystic who operated within New York. Scribe’s interest piqued at the mention of Leiko’s transformation and to the Ara’s slight relief, Scribe proved himself to be a sorcerer of true magic instead of a con-man looking for a quick buck. He’d confirmed their suspicions of Leiko being tied to the kitsune, fox spirits of Japanese lore, although he admitted he had little to no experience with said creatures.

Scribe refused to leave Leiko to sort things out on her own, however, and offered her a proposition. Scribe’s lifelong work dealt with a massive, mystical library he dubbed the Spiral, which housed knowledge from across space and time. Despite his years slaving away at discovering and archiving its secrets, progress was going at a crawl. He’d take Leiko under his wing, giving her access to whatever she could get her hands on and import what they couldn’t find from his various connections. In return, she’d take up being his personal assistant. Ryuu had been reluctant to let Leiko have a hands on approach and had made his dislike for Scribe apparent, but relented.

The world of magic was a far cry from the straight-laced, business-oriented life Leiko had grown in; it both terrified and fascinated her. Scribe, real name: Charles Mordichai Jenson (Charlie for short), proved to be an eccentric, but well-meaning guide where he could. As the two dove into research, Leiko let loose a sense of freedom and expression she stifled to fit her father’s expectations. Charlie was quick to help enable this. They were polar opposites in many ways, but Charlie saw a passion and potential in Leiko that mirrored his own at her age, and he fully intended to see it shine. It wasn’t long before Leiko wasn’t just checking inventory and jotting notes for both The Spiral and Jenson’s Comics (Charlie’s civilian pop culture store), but followed him out on relic retrievals and even the occasional “mystic field trip”. Charlie had been adamant on one thing when she stepped out of the safety of The Spiral however, much as he’d taken Scribe as his mantle, Leiko would have to make one of her own for the sake of her identity. It wasn’t a hard choice for her as it was practically staring her in the face, Kitsune took life. Over the next two years, Kitsune proved herself to be a capable magician despite being self-taught. Juggling her home, school and magic life was busy, but thrilling. Perhaps a little too thrilling. During an outing, Scribe and Kitsune were ambushed by a sorcerer named Felix Faust, who ultimately took Scribe prisoner. Well-aware of just how over her head she was, Kitsune went on a one-girl rescue mission to save her mentor anyway and was beyond relieved to find a young group of supers on the same trail.

The group, known simply as “The Team”, had been alerted of Scribe’s abduction through their resident mystic, Zatanna. Scribe had managed to send a distress signal before all communication cut off. Shoving down the twinge of jealousy that came with that revelation and of being out of the loop, Kitsune allied herself with the Team until Scribe was rescued. She was offered a permanent position on the Team, which she said she’d think over even though she had no interest in becoming a hero. She was more persuaded by the opposition placed by Scribe and the oddly genuine endearment shown by the Team’s speedster, Kid Flash.

Less than a few days later, an argument between Leiko and Charlie sparked by his confession of thinking she wasn’t right for the Team just yet sent her right to them out of spite.

Now taking a crash course in heroics, Kitsune tackles supercrime, training, self-reflection, team building and the frustrating, but integral importance of friendship.

NOTES

Kit has alternate versions of her Kitsune outfit and will switch between them mid-battle, either because she wasn’t feeling the one she was wearing, it got dirty, or a specific attack called for a wardrobe change

Because Lei’s brand of Onmyodo is largely “home-brew” given she’s self-taught, she incorporates other types of magic and styles to compensate

Lei has the passive ability of being ridiculously lucky, she never loses games of chance such as coin flips and dice rolls

The nickname ‘Lei’ was originally coined by Wally West and it’s a nickname she only allows within the perimeter of the Cave

Lei is proud of her musical skill, it’s not uncommon to hear her singing to herself and will shred an electric guitar when given the chance

She has a pet Bearded Dragon named Prince. Prince was a at-Death’s-door rescue surrendered to Charlie, who gave him to her after she helped nurse Prince back to health and she wound up attached to him

Lei’s father is unaware she’s taken up heroism, as far as Ryuu knows, she’s studying under Charlie to get her curiosity of magic out of her system

#young justice oc #dc oc #gar's oc #gar's art #oathofoaks #leiko ara #meet the OCs

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