#sly-stone-hero

[fala-alfredo-pasta]

Hey! I love your ososan art! :) I found this on Pinterest and immediately thought of you, so... here!

Hold on hold on hold on

theeeeeere we goooooooooo~

[vilentia]

The Day George Met Hufflepuff!Reader

George Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader

Masterlist

The charm was in place, and everything was set. George Weasley stood in the shadow of the fourth-floor corridor, wand tucked discreetly into his sleeve. Beside him, Fred was struggling to contain his laughter, his hand pressed tightly over his mouth.

“You’re sure the enchantment won’t catch Flitwick?” Fred whispered, his voice bouncing with excitement.

George gave him a look. “Do you really think I’d risk Flitwick’s temper? This is precision work, Fred. She’ll be the only one who sets it off.”

“She” was Melanie Robards, a notorious Slytherin Prefect who had made life miserable for most of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff during her fourth and fifth years. The twins had grown tired of her constant snide comments and overbearing patrols and had decided it was high time she got a taste of her own medicine.

The prank? A clever bit of charm work involving an invisible tripwire and a modified Tarantallegra spell. The moment Melanie walked through the corridor, her legs would erupt into an uncontrollable tap dance. It was harmless, it was hysterical, and it was brilliant.

Fred nudged George. “Here she comes.”

But as George craned his neck, he realized too late that the sound of footsteps was wrong. It wasn’t the sharp, confident clack of Melanie’s polished shoes—it was the lighter, quicker pace of someone else entirely.

“Oh no,” George whispered.

Before Fred could stop him, George darted out from their hiding spot, but it was too late. The spell triggered, and with a flash of bright light, the corridor was filled with the rapid staccato of someone’s shoes pounding against the stone floor.

Not Melanie.

The girl in question was spinning helplessly in place, her legs a blur of chaotic movement. Books flew from her bag as she lost control, her arms flailing to keep balance. George’s stomach dropped like a brick as he rushed forward.

“I’ve got you!” he shouted, reaching for her.

Unfortunately, her spiraling momentum sent them both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Fred appeared a moment later, doubled over with laughter.

George scrambled to his feet, offering the girl a hand. “I’m so sorry—are you all right?”

Her face was a mixture of confusion, frustration, and something else George couldn’t quite place. “What… was that?”

Fred snorted. “Well, that was supposed to be Melanie. But you, uh, took a bit of a detour.”

The girl ignored Fred, turning her gaze to George. “You did this?”

George flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t meant for you. Honest. I’m so sorry. Here, let me help—” He bent down to gather her scattered books, but she snatched one from his hand with a sharp glare.

“Don’t bother.”

Fred, still grinning, leaned toward George. “I think you’ve made a friend, mate.”

“Fred,” George hissed, elbowing him. He turned back to the girl, his voice earnest. “Look, it was a mistake. Let me make it up to you. Please?”

Her eyes narrowed, but something about George’s tone seemed to disarm her. She sighed, brushing off her robes. “Fine. You can start by cleaning this up.”

“Done,” George said immediately. With a flick of his wand, the scattered books and quills soared neatly into her bag, which he handed back to her.

She hesitated, then took it. “Thanks.”

Fred gave George a sly look. “Well, aren’t you the hero. What’s your name, by the way?” he asked the girl, as if realizing for the first time that she wasn’t Melanie.

She crossed her arms. “Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Fred nodded thoughtfully. “Hufflepuff. That explains why you were walking all polite and not stomping about like Melanie.”

Y/N’s lips twitched, but she seemed determined not to smile. “Glad I could enlighten you.”

George cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Y/N, I really am sorry. Can I… do something to make up for this? Anything?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You think you can just make this better?”

“I can try,” George said quickly. “Really. No tricks this time. What do you say?”

Y/N regarded him for a moment, then sighed. “Fine. But if you try anything funny again, you’ll regret it.”

Over the next few days, George made it his mission to win Y/N over. He carried her books between classes, offered her help with charms, and even volunteered Fred as a partner for Potions—though Fred grumbled about it endlessly.

By the end of the week, Y/N was starting to see another side of George Weasley. He wasn’t just a prankster; he was clever, kind, and surprisingly good at cheering her up. It didn’t hurt that he was genuinely funny when his jokes weren’t at her expense.

One afternoon, as they sat together in the courtyard, Y/N looked at George and said, “You’re not what I expected.”

George raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What were you expecting?”

“Someone who wouldn’t bother apologizing,” Y/N admitted. “Most people don’t.”

George tilted his head. “Well, that’s a shame. You deserve better.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the usual banter replaced by something softer.

Fred’s voice shattered the moment. “Oi! Are we doing homework, or are you two writing sonnets to each other?”

George groaned, throwing a quill at Fred. “Go away, Fred.”

Fred grinned, unrepentant. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just tell Mum you’ve gone soft.”

Y/N laughed, and George couldn’t help but join in. He knew then, as Fred wandered off and Y/N stayed by his side, that he had found more than just a way to make up for a prank gone wrong.

He’d found a friend. And maybe, if he was lucky, something more.

Masterlist

[aprilcolours]

blackheart - part three

part one - part two - part four

*warning: some nsfw*

—

Visenya did not sleep well that night, dreams haunted by the memory of warm hands, a sly grin, and eyes that gleamed in the dark. 

She awoke to the arrival of a raven from her mother, the Queen. The message it carried was simple, but a revelation. She dressed quickly, braiding her hair haphazardly before rushing out of her tent. She was greeted by the anxious face of Oscar Tully, waiting straight-backed by the entrance.  

“Your highness…” the knight began, clearly apprehensive, “there is an urgent matter…the Lord Blackwood… that is, well he…”

“Speak plainly, Ser,” she bit out, a stone sinking into the pit of her stomach. The knight straightened his impeccable posture even further and responded,

“Benjicot has taken upon himself to retrieve the head of Lord Lannister. He absconded in the night alone, taking only a horse and his blades. I can assure you, had I been present at the scene I would have stopped this folly—” 

The Tully continued on, explaining that he had already punished those who had not alerted him and apologizing profusely, but Visenya ceased listening. Her heart thrummed in her chest, and the sound of blood rushed in her ears. 

Though they had pushed the Lannister army back at Lydden, Lord Jason Lannister had escaped alive and retreated westward. She had not chased him because she had not thought it worth the risk to her men. ‘Let him run’ she had said. 

Clearly that bloody fool disagrees, she thought. Godsdamnit all. 

“Hold the fort Ser Tully,” she decreed, tone leaving no room for argument. The knight nodded solemnly and bowed, but she had already walked away. She made haste out of camp, grabbing a hood as she went. She had Vermithor in the air and chasing westward in a matter of minutes. The Blackwood had a night’s head start, but the Bronze Fury was not a horse. 

It took into the afternoon at ceaseless top speeds, but they caught up to the vanguard of the retreating army. Vermithor rose high above the clouds so that they might avoid being spotted, taking care to approach downwind. They circled back to land behind the cover of hills, and Visenya threw her cloak over her head. 

This boy will be the death of me, she swore as she crept stealthily into the enemy camp. 

Their defenses were lowered, it was clear they did not expect an attack as they had not been chased. Many tended to the wounded and dead, and many others drank wine to wile away the midday hour. Despite herself, she wrinkled her nose at the indiscipline. 

Keeping to the shadows, and when needed playing at being some nursemaid or other servant, Visenya moved through the lines unnoticed, watching carefully for any sign of the raven-dark haired boy. At the center of camp she reached a tent, featuring an ostentatious display of wealth that could only belong to the Lord of the Westerlands. She circled round the back and tucked under the edge of the fabric wall, her blades at the ready. 

Benjicot Blackwood stood above the still bleeding corpse of Lord Jason Lannister. Blood had splattered across his grim, vicious face. He whirled on her, a dagger swiftly raised to her throat.

“What in all the God’s names do you think you are doing,” she hissed, raising a finger to the tip of his dagger and pushing it down. 

His rabid grin curled higher at the sight of her, stepping swiftly into her space. He did not even seem surprised to see her, simply delighted. 

“I have won you a great prize my lady,” he whispered, voice low and husky. “A lion’s head.”  

“I can assure you that getting yourself killed would be no prize to me,” she muttered back, grabbing his arm and pulling back the way she came. He resisted, gesturing to the body with his dagger. 

Seeing in his sparkling eyes that he meant no jest, she asked, “What madness has possessed you?!”

“I would return a hero, and earn myself honors befitting your hand,” he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Still, he steadfastly resisted her pulls. 

Visenya Targaryen II did not beg. But here, for only his ears to hear, she breathed a small simple:

“Please.”

Finally, the dark fire in his eyes banked and he relented, allowing himself to be pulled out of the tent and the rest of the way out of the camp. She did not loose her grip once, hands firmly tangled together as they passed between shadows. 

He trudged forward, a sullen silence about him, as though he had failed. 

Silly creature, she thought fondly, as they crested the hill that hid Vermithor. She tugged him forward towards her waiting dragon. Only then did he stop again, tugging out of her grip, brows raised. 

“You would allow me to ride beside you, princess?” 

“I would.”

“It would give a certain impression to the other lords,” he remarked, voice bitter and sharp. She simply smiled a small smile.

“I am aware,” she replied, “They could hardly object to my riding alongside my betrothed.”

At the shock writ across his bloody face she could not help but laugh. With a grin, she continued, “The raven from my mother arrived this morning. I would have told you immediately had you not run off.”

He took a step to close the distance between them, but Visenya lept back— expression playful. 

“Although, there is one left whose approval you should seek,” she teased, taking another step back. She reached out her hand for him to take.

Bloody Benjicot Blackwood was many things, but never a coward. With a breath and the beginnings of a sly grin, he took the offered hand. Together they approached the great beast at the bottom of the hill. 

“Rhaenagon ñuha valzȳrys,” she said as the bronze dragon watched their approach. Vermithor raised his great big head with a shake, and sniffed at the pair. 

“Bloody fucking hells,” Ben swore underneath his breath. Visenya laughed again and raised their joined hands to touch the dragon’s snout. 

After a moment, she gently pulled the boy towards the ropes and ladders that led up onto Vermithors back. He took a moment to look at her and read the challenge in her eyes. Then, with another muttered curse, Benjicot began to climb. 

Visenya followed after, a smug expression playing at her lips, and crouched in front of him when they reached the seat. 

She fastened the belts that anchored to the saddle around his waist, and tried desperately not to blush as her fingers brushed his thighs. 

“Shouldn’t these be for you, my lady?” he asked, eyelids low as he watched her hands and their careful movements. 

“Please,” she scoffed, “I haven’t used the harness since I was two and ten.” She was aiming for nonchalant, but she could tell she missed the mark slightly by the way his eyes narrowed and his grin sharpened. He leaned closer and spoke in a low tone,

“Is there some cause for nervousness, your highness?” 

They were close enough now that they shared breaths, mingling together in the damp air. Visenya bit her lip. Benjicot’s eyes immediately tracked the movement, shifting closer still. She was sure he would kiss her. 

“Sōvegon!” she called suddenly, and Vermithor began to prepare to take off. Ben’s eyes shot wide open and he grasped at her arms. Visenya laughed, throwing her head back, her long braid tossed about. 

“Do not worry Lord Blackwood,” she grinned, shifting around to sit properly. His arms immediately closed around her waist in a vice grip, his warm chest pressed tightly at her back. “Your princess would not allow harm to befall you.” 

She felt his shaky laugh against the shell of her ear, and she shivered. 

Vermithor took two great bounding steps before launching skyward. Benjicot held her waist so tightly she could barely breathe. Visenya laid one hand atop his to comfort, and he immediately locked her fingers between his own. 

They climbed and climbed into the sky, rising above the low lying misty clouds, until they broke through the cloud base and the sun shone upon them. Vermithor leveled out, pace steady and even now. 

“Ñāqa,” she commanded. Visenya turned, intending to speak, but the words died on her lips as she looked at the boy with her. 

His face was aglow with an awe-struck smile, looking down upon his home from the sky. 

He is rather handsome isn’t he, she noticed as the sun shone on his raven dark hair, illuminating the shape of his features— perhaps plain on their own, but thrilling in their vicious combination. So distinctly him. 

She studied him, as he took in the miracle of flight. She had the impulse to kiss his cheek. So she did. I am done denying when it comes to him, she decided. 

His gaze shot to hers, brows furrowed like she was an impossibility. He raised one hand to cup her jaw and neck in his broad hand. 

This time, when he kissed her, it was torturously painstakingly slow. A thorough, languid exploration of all the ways tongues could dance. She gasped at the slow banking fire that smoldered low in her belly. 

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed, even as her neck ached from the angle. 

When she finally placed a hand on his chest and pushed him lightly so that she might breathe, her lips were well swollen and eyes glazed. Their chests heaved as if it had been a tremendous exertion. 

Visenya became slowly aware of something hot and hard poking into her backside. 

No, she thought, It can’t be… But as she peered back into his face and he swiftly avoided eye contact, she was sure. 

She nearly forgot all sense. 

Seven hells. She cleared her throat, turning forward. The motion nestled that part of him even closer. His hands were balled into fists at her waist. 

“Adere, Vermithor!” she called. 

The rest of the flight was spent in a loaded silence, though it fortunately wasn’t too much further. A few hundred yards before they reached the sprawl of camp, they landed. 

Once firmly on the ground, there was a beat as neither quite knew what to say. 

“Should we take a moment?” Visenya asked finally. As if speaking it aloud had made the situation clear, they both burst into raucous, cackling fits of laughter. 

Benjicot buried his head into her hair to stifle his embarrassment with a groan. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth as the giggles continued. 

They sat there, pressed tightly together, for a time. Their breaths heaving in tandem. 

“I would wed you now,” the Blackwood finally decreed, breaking the silence, “Tonight.”

—

A/N: ta daaaa!! so there will be one more part for sure after this, maybe more we'll see

Rhaenagon ñuha valzȳrys - Meet my husband

Sōvegon - Fly 

Ñāqa- East

Adere- Faster

[kingsnake101]

For the WIP game, Goth Four has me intrigued :))

SO this one begins with Time, Sky, Legend, and Wind getting captured by dark link. This is another one that I think can mostly speak for itself, so I'm gonna put what I have under the cut. Also I've never played any of Legend's games so I kinda just made up a magic item :/ sorry diehard legend fans

“Maybe if you pace long enough, it'll wear a hole through the floor and we can escape,” Wind commented, receiving a sharp glare from Legend.

Wind was leaning against Sky, who fiddled with his tunic anxiously. Time sat cross-legged on the other side of the cell, face creased in thought. Legend, meanwhile, resumed his pacing.

The walls were dark and cold, the smell of old stone bricks and dark magic permeated the space. It was humiliating, really, that they were captured so easily. It looked like any other shadow portal, why would he have assumed it would teleport them to some creepy dungeon?

Wind looked like he was about to say something, but was interrupted by a cool wind breezing through the cell.

“The hell…” Legend thought to himself, stopping to stare at the small magical tornado that had begun to form on the other side of the bars. It reeked of dark magic.

That seemed to snap Time out of his trance, the older hero rising to his feet and glaring at the disturbance. Legend shivered. He had seen a lot of things in his time, but damn if that wasn't a terrifying look.

The wind picked up, yanking his hair as it swirled around the small room. If Legend squinted, he thought he could see a small figure within the whirlwind.

Shiny black boots emerged from the storm, steps tapping gracefully on the stone floor. A silhouette appeared, form whipping around with the wind. Finally, the figure stepped forwards, backlit by the only light in the room, a single candle behind them. They looked… oddly familiar.

And then, with a snap of their fingers, the wind halted and torches flared to life. There, finally illuminated, stood a goth copy of their smith. His skin was an ashy gray, red eyes framed by dark purple hair. His tunic was similar to Four’s, if Four had an emo phase and dyed everything black. Dark, glittery eyeshadow shone on his face, pairing nicely with lipstick so black it seemed to absorb light. He stood in a dramatic pose with his back straight, not a single hair or thread out of place. A sly grin pulled at his face.

“Greetings, heroes,” dark-Four sneered, leaning forward into a mocking bow. “It’s a pleasure,” he purred, a black forked tongue flicking past sharp teeth as he spoke.

“What do you want with us?” Legend spat, sneering as he stepped up to the bars.

“Well, it wouldn't be any fun if I just told you, now would it?” Dark-Four grinned, a black claw tapping at his chin thoughtfully. A silver ring was wrapped around his finger, a delicate chain connecting it to a matching wristband. Legend swore that it wasn't there earlier. “No, I think I'll leave you guessing. I'm just here to have some fun before Dark Link rips you to shreds,” the grin widened, all the more sinister. Legend swore he could feel Time’s protective, angry aura increase. He didn't miss how the dark refused to look at their oldest member.

Legend heard shuffling behind him, and looked over to see Sky walking up to the bars. A tremor ran down Legend's spine. The skylian’s gentle features contorted into something sharp, something dangerous.

“I suppose they call him ‘godkiller’ for a reason,” Legend assumed, almost feeling guilty for the dark on the other end of that glare. Almost.

A flicker of fear and uncertainty flashed across Dark-Four’s face, before he steeled it back into a lopsided grin. Before Sky could open his mouth to speak, the dark cut him off.

“Don't worry, the prick upstairs specifically told me not to lay a finger on you,” The dark clarified, rolling his eyes. “What he didn't mention, however, were your things.”

Legend's scowl deepened. If that asshole even thought about touching his stuff he would-

Legend's worst fears were confirmed when his own pack rose up through a puddle of dark magic on the floor. The shadow saw his reaction and grinned.

“Ooh, sorry, does this bother you, Pinky?” He mocked, carefully flipping open Legend's bag and peered inside.

“I swear to Hylia, if you even think-” Legend's rant was cut off by some sort of dark magic gag slapping onto his face. He growled in frustration, which only seemed to make the dark smile more.

“If any more of you have any words to say on the subject, I have plenty more,” he warned, dark magic swirling around his fingertips. 

Wind, unfortunately, seemed to take this as a challenge rather than a threat. “You bet I do, you slimy bottom feeder son of a-” Wind half grinned, half sneered, before a similar gag slapped onto his face.

“Anyhow, let's see what the so-called ‘Hero of Legend’ has in here~” the dark drawled, rooting through Legend's bag. Legend cursed at him through the gag. He ignored him.

The dark pulled out a familiar wooden box, shaking it slightly to hear metal bouncing against itself. The box was opened, and his eyes widened in glee. Legend cursed his luck. Out of all the things he could have grabbed, why did it have to be the box full of magic rings?

The dark began carefully picking through the rings, lifting a few up for inspection. He lifted up a particularly gaudy one, before looking Legend in the eye and grinning. Legend recognized that ring. It was one he rarely used, due to its headache-causing abilities and moral implications.

“I must say that I am impressed, Hero of Legend,” the dark smirked at him, holding the ring of mind reading in one hand and the box of rings in the other. “I really thought the most experienced savior of Hyrule would have better fashion taste.”

And if that didn't catch legend off guard.

“These are hideous! Why would you ever carry these around! Half of these clash, and the other half are eyesores,” he scoffed, holding the ring of mind reading like it personally offended him.

“Wait, can he not sense the magic? How?” Legend gawked internally, although he kept his face a mask of anger.

“Here, you can have this one. My eyes can only take so much,” he complained, dramatically shielding his eyes before flicking the ring into the cell. Legend practically dove to catch it. How a reflection of Four could be so stupid, he had no idea. Legend slipped it on.

A swarm of thoughts rushed over him, and Legend internally grimaced. Wind was still spewing some awfully creative insults, Sky was angry and worried, and somehow, the old man was just as unreadable as before.

Legend took a deep breath, focusing on the individual in front of him. He leaned away from the angry thoughts of his comrades and towards the smug cadence of Four’s doppelganger.

“Poor fools. They'll never find the exit, I can barely find it even though I know that it's behind a false wall at the end of the hallway. And even then, they'll never get past the guards watching their stuff. Sure, they tend to fall asleep after dinner at around 8 o’ clock, but the heroes don't know that. They also have no idea that Dark Link and I are constantly doing patrols, except for tonight because Dark is going to look for the other heroes and I'm leaving so I can have a spa day. I bet they don't even know that my Link likes to secretly sew lockpicks into his friend’s clothes. Fools. They'll never escape. Muahahahahahahahaha-”

Legend discreetly slid the ring off his finger. He was already getting a headache, and the maniacal laughter was like a stake being driven into his skull. Besides, he has already gotten plenty of information.

“Well, it seems our time must come to an end. It was an honor to meet you, truly. Hopefully I get to see you again before Dark rips you apart,” he sneered, bowing again. “I bid you adieu,” with one last dramatic twirl, he sunk into the shadows once more.

As soon as the shadow was gone, Legend turned his attention to Wind. “What? What's that look for?” Wind questioned, scooching away from Legend. It seems the gag had disappeared when the shadow did.

“Give me your tunic,” Legend demanded, holding out his hand.

Wind curled back, clutching his hand protectively to his chest. “No way! Ayrll gave this to me!” Wind huffed, scooting back.

Sky leaned forward, trying to seperate the two heroes somewhat. “Do you want mine?” he offered.

Legend nodded, scooting over to Sky. He ran his fingers along the hem, looking for anything that seemed out of place. Sky eyed him with confusion, but didn't comment. He found what he was looking for in the seam, right before the hem of the shirt. It seemed like a small piece of fabric had been added, with a wide stitch that could easily tear away with the help of the lockpicks inside. Legend made quick work of it.

“Wait, what? How did you know that was there?” Wind questioned, leaning forward. Sky picked at his tunic with confusion.

Legend stood up, wincing when his joints protested. He brushed himself off before making his way to the cell door. “I remembered that the smithy likes to hide lockpicks in our clothes,” Legend explained as he fiddled with the lock. He decided not to mention the whole mind-reading thing. Maybe another day. The door swung open with a soft click.

[igucci]

A few random (ambiguous) doodles based on some lines/moments from @rancid-zinnia-onthepatio's AMAZING fic, You Tentacle My Fancy!

I've been following it for a while now, and I can't express how much joy it has brought me when I have been stressed with school T_T

Another amazing fanartist I want to mention who inspired me is @sly-stone-hero, so I want to show my support for them as well! ^^

[magiclostinfantasy]

I'll hold your shoes || Mattheo Riddle x reader

Warnings: Slight swearing Summary: A Quidditch victory, an unexpected fight and a late night swim lead Mattheo to question his feelings for Y/n.

The Quidditch pitch echoed with the roars of excitement as the Slytherin team soared through the air, chasing the golden Snitch. Among the spectators, Mattheo Riddle and Y/n L/n cheered alongside their friends Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and Enzo. The camaraderie within the group was palpable as they basked in the thrill of the game.

As the match reached its climax, Y/n couldn't help but wince discreetly, her feet aching from the hours spent on the cold stone stands. Mattheo, ever observant, noticed her discomfort. With a sly grin, he leaned over and whispered, "Do your feet hurt? Want me to hold your shoes?"

Y/n's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected offer, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Oh, how chivalrous of you, Mattheo. But I think I'll survive."

Mattheo chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Well, if you change your mind, I'm here to rescue your poor feet."

As the Quidditch match concluded with Slytherin emerging victorious, the group descended from the stands, reveling in the triumph. The cheering crowd formed a chaotic sea around them, but in the midst of it all, Mattheo found himself walking beside Y/n.

"You know," he began, casting a sideways glance at her, "I could still carry your shoes if you'd like. A true gentleman's offer, you know."

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, "I'll keep that in mind, Riddle. But for now, let's just enjoy the celebration."

Mattheo couldn't help but smile at Y/n's response, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than usual. As they continued through the bustling crowd, Draco, who had been observing the interaction, nudged Mattheo with a knowing smirk.

"Looks like someone's trying to be a hero," Draco teased.

Mattheo scoffed, attempting to play it cool, "Oh, please. I was just being polite. Unlike someone I know."

Draco's smirk widened, "Polite, my ass. You're smitten, Riddle."

Mattheo shot him a glare, but deep down, he couldn't deny the truth in Draco's words. There was something about Y/n that had sparked his interest, a curiosity that went beyond the boundaries of their usual banter.

As the group made their way back to the Slytherin common room, the joyful atmosphere continued. Lorenzo suggested they celebrate with a round of butterbeers, and Pansy eagerly agreed, already planning the evening's festivities.

Mattheo found himself walking alongside Y/n again, their steps in sync as they navigated the crowded corridors of Hogwarts. The air was filled with laughter and the remnants of the victorious cheers, creating a lively backdrop to their conversation.

"Hey, Riddle," Y/n said, her tone softer than usual, "thanks for the offer back there. It's nice to know someone's looking out for my feet."

Mattheo chuckled, "Well, your feet deserve the attention, of course. But, in all seriousness, it was my pleasure. Anything for a friend." Y/n grinned, appreciating the sincerity beneath Mattheo's playful demeanor.

The atmosphere in Hogwarts had shifted from jubilation to tension as the Slytherin group made their way across the clocktower courtyard. Mattheo, still buzzing from the excitement of the Quidditch victory, led the way with a lightness in his step. However, the lingering bitterness from the Gryffindor defeat had cast a shadow over the courtyard.

As Mattheo walked past, a disgruntled Gryffindor, seething with resentment, decided to voice his frustration. "Look who it is, the Slytherin prince himself. I bet he's the reason Gryffindor lost today – probably hexed our Seeker."

Mattheo furrowed his brow but chose to ignore the provocation, continuing on his way. However, the Gryffindor, fueled by the desire to lash out, wasn't finished.

"And what about his little sidekick, L/n? I heard she's got a thing for cursing people too. Slytherin is the house of dark arts and deceit after all."

The words echoed through the courtyard, catching the attention of everyone around, including Mattheo's friends. Pansy, Draco, Blaise, Theo, and Enzo turned to see the source of the commotion, their expressions turning from curiosity to concern.

Mattheo's fists clenched at his sides, his anger bubbling beneath the surface. Before he could control his reaction, he turned sharply to face the Gryffindor, his voice low and menacing, "Watch your mouth."

The Gryffindor, fueled by the satisfaction of getting a rise out of Mattheo, continued his verbal assault. "What's the matter, Riddle? Can't handle the truth about your pretty whore?"

That was the last straw. Mattheo's fury boiled over, and without thinking, he swung a punch at the Gryffindor, connecting with a satisfying thud. The courtyard fell silent for a moment before chaos erupted.

Pansy, Draco, Blaise, Theo, and Enzo rushed towards the brawl, realizing that their friend was in the midst of a confrontation. Y/n, who had been a few steps behind, widened her eyes at the unfolding scene. She quickly caught up, her gaze darting between Mattheo and the Gryffindor.

The Slytherins managed to intervene before the situation escalated further. Draco and Blaise restrained Mattheo, who was still seething with anger, while Theo and Enzo confronted the Gryffindor, pulling him away from the scene.

Y/n, concerned for Mattheo, approached him cautiously. "Mattheo, let it go. We don't need more trouble."

Mattheo took a deep breath, his eyes still blazing with anger. Y/n gently grabbed his hand, leading him away from the crowd. "Come on, let's find somewhere to clean you up."

As they walked away from the courtyard, the Slytherin friends exchanged uneasy glances, realizing that the Gryffindor had potential to cause more trouble than they bargained for. The incident marked a turning point, not just for Mattheo and Y/n, but for the entire Slytherin group as they grappled with the consequences of the unexpected fight.

<><><><><><><>

With the Gryffindor incident behind them, Y/n led Mattheo to a secluded spot near the lake where they could have some privacy. She set down a small bag containing healing supplies and took a deep breath.

"Sit," she instructed gently, patting a smooth rock beside the water. Mattheo complied, his eyes still clouded with residual anger. Y/n, proficient in magical healing, began tending to the cuts and bruises on his face. 

As she worked, Y/n couldn't help but notice that Mattheo seemed unable to shake off the tension. His jaw was clenched, and his gaze was distant. Concern etched across her face, she finished the healing charm and sat down next to him.

"You need to calm down, Mattheo," Y/n said softly, her eyes searching his. "That Gryffindor was just trying to rile you up. Let it go."

Mattheo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, Y/n, but... I can't stand it when people talk about you like that. It gets under my skin."

Y/n's heart softened at his words. She reached for his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Thank you for defending me. But, next time, let's try not to resort to fists, okay?"

Mattheo nodded, a flicker of a smile appearing on his face. "Yeah, you're right. I just... I couldn't stand by and let him say those things about you."

Feeling a desire to shift the mood, Mattheo looked at Y/n and suggested, "You know what? There's a small lake in a secret cave here in Hogwarts. It's a great place to unwind. Fancy a swim?"

Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A secret cave? Lead the way, Riddle."

The two Slytherins made their way through hidden passages until they reached the enchanted entrance to the cave. The sparkling lake inside beckoned, and without hesitation, they stripped down to their underwear and jumped in.

As they swam in the cool, refreshing waters, the tension from earlier melted away. They began to talk about their dreams and aspirations, sharing their hopes for the future. The conversation flowed easily, and Y/n found herself appreciating the complexity of Mattheo beyond his confident exterior.

After a while, they emerged from the cave, refreshed but shivering in the evening air. Y/n couldn't stop shivering, feeling the chill down to her bones. Mattheo, sensing her discomfort, rushed them back to his dorm.

Once inside, Mattheo handed Y/n one of his shirts. She changed quickly, grateful for the warmth it provided. They sat under the covers of his bed, wrapped in the comforting cocoon of blankets. The air was filled with a gentle warmth as they chatted about everything and nothing.

Y/n glanced at the clock and realized the late hour. "I should go," she said, reluctantly pulling away from the cozy haven.

Mattheo nodded, a soft smile on his face. "Thanks for today, Y/n. And for what it's worth, I'd do it all over again for you."

Y/n smiled back, a warmth settling in her chest. "Goodnight, Mattheo."

As she left the room, Mattheo couldn't help but watch her go, a newfound sense of closeness lingering between them.

<><><><><><><>

The morning light filtered through the curtains as Mattheo woke up, a sense of calm settling over him. As he stretched, he couldn't help but replay the events of the previous day in his mind. The Quidditch match, the Gryffindor incident, the swim in the secret cave – it all seemed like a vivid dream.

However, a sudden realization hit him like a lightning bolt. The memory of Y/n wearing his shirt, the warmth of their conversation under the covers, lingered in his mind. Mattheo felt a strange mix of emotions, a fluttering in his chest that he couldn't quite comprehend.

A wave of panic washed over him. "Why did I give her my shirt? Why couldn't I just let her wear her own?" he muttered to himself.

His dormitory mates, Draco, Blaise, Theo, and Enzo, who were still lounging in various states of wakefulness, exchanged curious glances. Sensing Mattheo's unease, Draco spoke up, "Alright, Riddle, spill it. What's bothering you?"

Mattheo hesitated for a moment before finally admitting, "I... I think I might like Y/n."

The room fell silent, the gravity of Mattheo's confession sinking in. Blaise broke the silence, "Well, that's not exactly a groundbreaking revelation, mate. You've been practically mooning over her for a while now."

Theo added, "It's not a bad thing, Mattheo. Y/n is great. Just tell her how you feel."

But Mattheo shook his head, his anxiety evident. "No, you don't understand. It would ruin everything. Our friendship, the group’s friendship– I can't risk it."

Draco leaned forward, "Mate, you can't keep avoiding your feelings. If you like her, you need to tell her. Iit might just make everything better."

Enzo chimed in, "And she's not just anyone. She's Y/n. If there's anyone who can handle it maturely, it's her."

Despite their reassurances, Mattheo remained firm in his stance. "I appreciate your concern, but no. I’m not risking it. Let's just forget about this conversation, okay?"

The boys exchanged glances, understanding that Mattheo needed time to process his feelings. They respected his decision for now, but it was clear that the revelation had opened a door to a new chapter, one that Mattheo couldn't ignore for long. 

<><><><><><><>

The Great Hall was alive with the sounds of chatter and laughter as Y/n and the rest of the Slytherin group sat together for dinner. Pansy, always the entertainer, had everyone in stitches with her witty remarks. Everyone, that is, except Mattheo.

Y/n, ever perceptive, noticed Mattheo's subdued demeanor and nudged him playfully under the table. "Oi, Riddle, did you accidentally drink a Calming Draught instead of pumpkin juice?"

Mattheo cracked a faint smile, appreciating Y/n's attempt to lift his spirits. "Maybe I did. What's it to you, L/n?"

Pansy, overhearing the exchange, chimed in, "Oh, it's a lost cause. He's probably still reeling from that Gryffindor brawl."

The table erupted in laughter, and even Mattheo couldn't help but join in. Y/n leaned in and said, "On a serious note, though, thank you for yesterday. I kind of like fixing you up. It's oddly satisfying."

Mattheo smirked, "You enjoy seeing me battered and bruised, then?"

Y/n chuckled and gave Mattheo a teasing look. "You heard her guys, I guess I have to get into another fight so she can patch me up."

Y/n laughed, "Please don’t. I just like taking care of you. It’s like our own little adventure."

Mattheo couldn't help but smile at her words. As he watched Y/n laugh, a warmth filled his chest, and it suddenly became clear to him. He loved her.

A determination sparked in Mattheo's eyes. He took a deep breath and, feeling the weight of his emotions, decided to lay his cards on the table. "You know, Y/n, I was thinking... maybe we could have some adventures that don't involve me getting into fights."

Y/n looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "What do you have in mind, Riddle?"

Mattheo took another deep breath, his nerves kicking in. "Well, how about a date? You and me, somewhere nice?"

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. The Slytherin group fell silent, realizing that something significant was happening.

After a moment, Y/n burst into laughter. "You? Asking me out on a date? I never thought I'd see the day."

Mattheo couldn't help but grin. "Is that a yes, then?"

Y/n's laughter echoed through the Great Hall as she nodded, "Yes, Mattheo Riddle, that's a yes."

The Slytherin friends erupted into cheers, and even the enchanted ceiling seemed to sparkle with approval. Mattheo and Y/n, amidst the laughter and applause, shared a moment where the boundaries of friendship expanded into the uncharted territory of something more profound. The Great Hall, with its towering walls and enchanted ceiling, witnessed the beginning of a new chapter in the intertwined tales of Mattheo Riddle and Y/n L/n.

[romanreignseater]

Our Reflection.

Jey Uso x Black Female Reader

Rating: 18 +

Warning: Probably my dirtiest story yet. It’s just pure filth. Brace yourself.

“Being two beautiful people in a relationship causes us to look in the mirror quite often. So, why not take a chance and fuck in front of it.”

A/N: They need to stop targeting our Bloodline hero, Mr. Main Event Jey Uso. That’s my man and I got his back. Sorry… I’m in my feeling about NOC 😭. Had to write for my him, but I also got a Jimmy fic coming out soon, so stay tuned. Also, I didn’t forget about my Dean fic it’s still coming out as well.

GIF: @jeysuso

“You really think you could guess my Chipotle order?!”

My husband, Jey, smiled through FaceTime. “I feel the vibes right now, like that telepathic shit.”

I couldn’t even contain my laughter at his remark of us being telepathic. “So, what do I want then baby?!”

“Well, obviously you always want me that’s a given.” I rolled my eyes at slick comment and he cheesed real hard.

“Okay then with yo fine ass, what do I want?!”

“I thought I was handsome.” His hand over his heart as if he were hurt. “You’re actually an idiot.” Jey soon began sniffling like he was going to cry, eyes closed and all.

This boy really in the middle of Chipotle actin a fool.

“Okayyy… handsome.” He peeled one eye open and smirked at me lovingly. “What. Do. I. Want?!”

He opened his mouth, giving me a long and very dramatic pause just to say, “I can’t tell you that mama. But, I know you always get chips and guac, so that’s all you need to know.”

This boy better get my burrito.

——————————————————————————

Roughly about two hours later, I began doing my makeup. My girls invited me out to a quick little lunch.

I’ve been waiting for Jey, but my chipotle STILL… had yet to arrive. I wasn’t gonna sit around and not get me something to eat. So, lunch with my girls it was.

Trin was on her way to pick me up, so I had some time to kill. The 28’ inch jet black silky buss down was laid, and the all black outfit was hugging my curves in all the right places. My top had a heart cutout right at my cleavage showcasing my ample breasts and my leggings were definitely holding my ass tight.

As I looked in the mirror, making sure everything was looking right before I continued my makeup. In the mirror I could see Mr. Main Event Jey Uso standing in the doorway admiring me.

Looking down at his reflection, I could see a Chipotle bag in his hand. But, when looking up I could see his bottom lip sheathed behind his teeth.

Turning back around to the mirror continuing my makeup, “Look who decided to show up.”

I could hear Jey’s heavy size 13 feet nearing me. Looking up from my eyeshadow palette, my husband’s big frame could surround my entire body. He stood behind me with his hat on backwards, gold link chain dancing on his neck, Niu Tat crop top, and black cotton Nike shorts.

“And where yo’ ass think you going looking this fine?!”

Jey pressed himself against my backside, and I could feel his heavy member stabbing me in the ass. The bag of food was placed on the counter and Jey’s hands were placed on the counter in front of me, practically trapping me between the both of them.

“I hope you got what I wanted sir.”

I continued doing my eyeshadow and Jey looked at me with utter confusion. He pushed my hair behind my ear and whispered, “You ain’t answer my question.” (Just imagining this is Jey’s voice 😩).

“And I don’t want to, your ass took forever with my food.”

Jey’s lips soon traveled down my neck, kissing, licking, and sucking at it passionately. I completely ignored his gestures, and he could tell his neck kisses weren’t working.

“I got you a burrito, I felt that telepathic shit.”

“That’s cute babe, but I got plans to go eat out anyways.” Turning around I swiped a little eyeshadow on his cheek. I giggle as his face remained stone cold.

“So… who you got these ‘plans’ with?!”

“Nunya.”

Jey’s face changed from a sly and hard stare, to a completely hard stare.

“So you’re telling me… you going out to eat, looking all good, smelling all good, just to make me upset cause I brought your Chipotle late?!”

I paused brush strokes and looked him in his eyes in the mirror. “I still would’ve went out with the girls, even if you brought the Chipotle earlier. So… I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“What I’m gonna tell you is what I’m gonna do to you.” Jey begins to sort of pace around me back and forth. He then walks back behind me and bent my back over the counter slowly.

“What are you doing boy?! I got a lunch to go to.”

My breasts were soon pressed against the counter, and Jey’s knees spread my legs apart. His grip on my back arrived to the back of my neck and my breathing became heavier.

He bent down to my level in front of the mirror, looking me in my eyes and said, “Imma eat this pussy real good, fuck you real hard, you finna eat this burrito, and then I’ll think about letting you go out,”

His commands made me very upset, but also really wet.

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing, but I gotta finish getting ready.” As I tried to get up from my bent position, I couldn’t. Jey’s strength totally overpowered mine and there was really no way I’d get up.

“Yo’ ass ain’t going nowhere.” I yelped as a smack was placed on my ass. A couple more smacks were laid upon my ass and tears began to well up in my eyes.

“Aww, you crying and I didn’t even fuck you yet. And to think yo’ ass was tryna run from this dick. Tsk tsk tsk.” I looked up at him with fury.

Jey’s hands went from the back of my neck to my clothed, pulsing mound. Massaging it ever so gracefully. Goosebumps arose from my arms and Jey chuckled, practically enjoying the reactions I was trying not to give him.

Jey shocked me by ripping my leggings straight down the middle, panties and all.

“JEY!! WHAT THE FUC-.” His large and bear like hands covered my mouth, nearly my entire face. “Shhhhh.” He placed a kiss on top of my head and his fingers traveled from my neck to my cunt.

Rubbing my slick juices all over the entirety of my pussy. “Unhh, oh my g-.” I moaned through his hand, but I soon stopped moaning as Jey paused his ministrations. Looking at him with pure anger, he took his wet fingers into his mouth and sucked on my juices.

“That shit tasty mama.” Even though, he was pissing me off, he was just so irresistible. “I’m about to go to town on that pussy.”

I watched as his head dipped down and he was at level with my pussy. I felt him spread my lips apart and his hot breath cascading it. His thick thumb traced my pussy lips gently and he pressed it against my clit.

“Gotta taste it before I fuck it huh?!” As I tried to get a word out, he dived right in. He spread his mouth over my center. My hand traveled behind and was placed on the back of his head while he went to work. He drooled all over this pretty little pussy, causing me to whimper and whine for him.

Jey slurped on me a little more before bringing his hand up to meet my ass with a stinging slap. I continued to breathe deeply as he was really eating it from the back.

He feasted wholeheartedly on me, not stopping. This pussy belonged to him all day, everyday, whenever he wanted it, and he damn sure was getting it now. My legs shook as I felt the pressure build up. “Unhhhh, I’m cumming Jey.”

“Cum for daddy mama.” His saliva drooled from my ass to my clit, making even more of a mess. Just absolutely tonguing me down to the max. I came all over his tongue and I shook with pleasure. But, I soon screamed as he didn’t stop.

The overstimulation was getting to me, and I knew I was going to burst. My ears to deaf the other sounds, the only thing I could hear was the gushy noises coming from his filthy mouth.

“Oh my god, I’M CUMMING AGAIN!!”

“Go on baby.” My pussy lips quivered as Jey continually made out with it sloppily. I reached my high and squirted all over Jey’s face.

I had an out of body experience as Jey rubbed me through out the rest of my orgasm. My ass gained a couple more abusive smacks and Jey’s shorts were dropping.

Lifting my head up and arching my back for me, Jey told me his exact plans. “I’m for real about to get balls deep in my shit, ya understand me?!” My eyes lowered and breath staggered as I tried my best to look at him in his eyes.

“Ya understand me princess?!”

Gulping, I accept his orders. “Yes daddy.”

“Don’t be running now.”

I couldn’t really make no promises of that, cause if he got to hitting that spot; which I knew he would, it would be a wrap.

His swollen mushroom tip glided against my cunt savagely, spreading my juices all over his tip. Jey soon pressed his tan brown dick in, gently massaging my walls instantly.

He smacked my ass once more. “That ass juicy just like that pussy.”

“Just fuck me boy.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He pushed my chest deeper into the counter, getting in a few solid strokes of that monster dick before gradually picking up speed. He starts stroking me so good, and the pleasure is near unbearable. “Okay baby, stop I’m cumming.”

“Already?! I barely started and I’m having fun.”

My little manicured hands were placed upon his rock hard abs trying to get him to stop. “I’m serious STOP!!” My pussy was getting obliterated and Jey had yet to stop. I began squirting all over his cock and my whole body began to convulse.

“Damn girl… I was about to get my leg up on the counter so I could really hit that shit.” My breath was sucked out of my lungs and my heart felt like it had just stopped. Jey held onto the sides of my stomach and waited for my breathing to calm down.

“You better be ready now, cause ain’t no stopping.”

He placed his length back into my cunt, stretching my walls to accommodate his meaty girth. My head was soon lifted and held in place as Jey fixed my vision to him and him only in the mirror.

“I know how much you like to look in the mirror, Imma really give you something to look at.”

Jey’s foot was placed on the counter right beside me and my head nearly fell, but he was quick to catch it. My toes curled and my brows furrowed. “Daddy, you’re so deep.”

“I know baby.”

He plunged into my cunt so devilishly, “It feels like you’re in my stomach.”

Jey plunged forward so his stomach was placed against my back. He cupped my cheeks, “I know, cause I am in your guts.”

His strokes just absolutely brutal, grabbing my hair, and smacking my ass digging off in my pussy. Balls sticking and slapping against my clit, providing an entire new sensation.

Pounding my g-spot like there was no tomorrow. Both of us moaning and watching one another reflections in the mirror. I watched Jey’s stomach tensed admiring my thickness spreading me all the way out, my cunt tightening as he slid in and out of me with ease.

“That pussy so wet baby, that shit talking to me huh?!”

“Yes daddy all for you.”

“I know that’s right.”

My body went limp and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. My knees threaten to give out, but Jey’s vice like grip on my hips lead me to continue to stand upright. “I’m cumming so hard daddy, you’re fucking the shit out of me.”

“Yeah, let the neighbors know my name mama. Scream for me.”

With a loud cry, I squirted all over his length, nearly pushing it out. Jey began to chuckle as he sped up his pace, clutching my ass cheeks for dear life. Moaning sweetly as he released heavy spurt after heavy spurt into the warmth of my sweet little pussy. Pulling out with one final smack to my ass, his cum dribbled out of my hole onto my clit.

Grabbing my cheeks harshly, he kissed me sloppily. Spit all over my lips and around my mouth. “I love you baby.”

“I love you too boy.”

As we looked into each others eyes, we could hear the loud banging of the front door.

“Y/N!! GET YO ASS DOWN HERE!! Are you coming or not?!”

“Tell Trin you already did.”

Rolling my eyes once more at my husband, but his big smile got me every time.

——————————————————————————

THE END.

MY TAG SQUAD: @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @nayys-world @mzv11 @babybatlover @vogueyonce @harmshake @harlem11680 @seeingstarks @thewarlordsworld @alyyaanna @southerngirl41 @christinabae @pitlissa22 @thealliasylum @fame-ass-ers @iluvthebloodline @jeyusos-girl @ah-fin3sse @solosikoasgf @msbigredmachine @rollinsland @angelicflower2020

[alterchaos]

A HIDDEN GEM

(cw: cuteness overload...viewer discretion advised)

With Knuckles away from Angel Island, Rouge seizes her opportunity to steal the Master Emerald for herself. Though, she would discover a far greater treasure that fateful day...

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: CALL OF A HERO

NEXT CHAPTER: A DATE TO DIE FOR

“My my…Leaving the Master Emerald alone are we?”

The sly bat watched from a distance below as the echidna joined his friends on their journey. She grinned deviously, unwilling to let such a perfect opportunity go to waste. 

It took only half an hour to make her way to the floating island in the sky thanks to her large, strong wings. Each flap caught the wind gracefully beneath, pressing against the cool air and pushing her higher into the sky. With the countless times she’d attempted such a heist, she was used to breathing in the thin air in the upper atmosphere. Each time, however, she was thwarted by the- admittedly handsome- emerald guardian’s watchful eye. 

This time was different though.

This time, she knew he couldn’t stop her.

Rouge landed on the island’s soft grass, brushing herself off as she folded her wings behind her. She walked towards the altar ahead, stepping up onto the stone steps as her eyes sparkled with glee.

“I must say, Red, I’m quite surprised. Did you really think I wouldn’t take advantage of this little-”

She froze at the top, her eyes falling on the empty altar before her.

“Eh?”

At its center lay a note scribbled crudely with a bright, red crayon. Rouge walked over, picking it up and reading in confusion.

Bet you didn’t think I was smart enough to hide the master emerald, did you, Bat Girl? Ha! You should see the look on your face! 

Anyways, get off my island.

~ Red

Rouge crumpled the paper in her grip as she gritted her fangs, her eye twitching in annoyance.

“Oh you think you’re SO clever do you…” She opened her wings, flapping them hard as she launched herself off the ground, flying deeper into the island, “I’ll show you who the smart one is, you handsome jerk…”

She failed to notice the glowing eyes watching her from behind. 

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

“Ugh! Where is it!!?” 

Rouge stared up at the endless expanse of blue peeking out from behind the viny ruins above. She was lying on her back, exhausted and frustrated from her fruitless flight through the massive sky sanctuary.

Had he really bested her this time?

Maybe it was all pointle-

“Mmm…Mmmm…”

“Huh?”

Rouge sat up, taking in the sight of a dark, baby chao trying to jump up and reach a bundle of grapes hanging on a tall vine. Its wings weren’t fully developed yet, rendering it helpless in its hunger. Despite its surly nature, its eyes began to water in the same kind of frustration the bat felt as well. She sighed, pushing herself up onto her feet and walking over to the little chao. It looked up at her, eyes wide and expectant, as she reached up to the vine and plucked the bundle of grapes free. 

“Here, kid.” She knelt down, placing the grapes before the hungry chao, “Be sure not to eat it all at once. I can’t promise someone will be here to help once I leave, you got that? You’ll have to learn how to take some things for yourself if you want to surviv-”

She froze, eyes flying wide in shock as the baby chao raced over to her leg, hugging and purring contently as its antenna popped into a heart.

Rouge blushed, glancing to the side, “So cute…” She gently pried the chao free from her leg, nudging it towards the food it so desperately wanted, “Okay, tiny. I have to go now so you enjoy your grapes, alright?” 

The baby stared up at her with big eyes, “Chao?”

“Take care!” Rouge smiled before taking off once more. Seeing the little chao’s determination gave her the strength she needed to continue.

The master emeralds would be hers yet.

She couldn’t give up no-

“Chaoooo!”

“Uh!!?”

Rouge turned, lifting her hands suddenly and catching the small chao from before as it half-flew, half-fell into her chest. It purred once more, rubbing its cheek against her fur as its antenna became a heart yet again. 

She began to sweat, “No. NO! I am NOT in a place to adopt a baby chao!”

Too late. 

She was theirs now.

Rouge’s eyes flew wide as a few more chaos spotted her, calling over their friends in joy. Before she knew it, the jewel thief was swarmed by an endless wave of happy, cooing chaos, all wanting a piece of the boundless love she had to give. 

Shit.

Rouge attempted to fly away, only to be chased relentlessly like some kind of queen followed by her loyal subjects, “Trust me, I am NOT the nurturing kind! Doesn’t that clueless dummy take care of all of you-”

Rouge paused, an idea crossing her mind as a few chaos tugged at her ears and cheeks affectionately.

She grinned deviously.

“Say…since we’re all friends here, did any of you happen to see where your precious guardian hid the master emerald?”

The chaos all floated in place, looking between one another before all raising their hands simultaneously, chaoing in unison. 

Perfect.

The chaos, as one, began leading her through the sky sanctuary towards a hidden chamber she’d never explored in her many trips to the echidna’s home. She had to take an isolated teleporter there, something she hadn’t accounted for whilst searching earlier. No wonder she couldn’t find it.

Honestly, she couldn’t help but be impressed.

Knuckles was actually much smarter than he seemed…

It was…attractive…

Rouge shook her head, snapping herself out of such embarrassing thoughts. 

“Y-Yeah right…Attractive my-”

She paused, realizing she was thinking out loud. The chaos all stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to finish that statement.

Rouge blushed again, “...w-wings…”

Saved it.

The baby chao in her arms, pointed excitedly at the room ahead, “Chao chao!!!”

“Huh? What is it, Tiny?”

The other chaos followed suit, “Chao chao chao chao chao!!!”

“Oh! Is that where the master emerald is?”

The chaos all nodded.

Rouge grinned, “Great job, everyone!” Her eyes flew wide as the chao hoard all swooped in for a group hug. She began to sweat again, “Alright! Alright! I get it! Get off!” They listened, waving happily as they flew back towards the sanctuary’s open skies. Rouge shook her head as the lingering baby chao crawled onto her shoulder, opting to stay with the bat, “Guess I can’t get rid of you, huh, Tiny?”

“Mmm…” The chao hugged her neck affectionately.

Rouge sighed, “Fine. I guess having a little partner in crime wouldn’t hurt…”

“Chao!”

Rouge continued down the dark hall into the room ahead. Each stone wall was covered from top to bottom in a chaotic entanglement of vines. Fireflies flew about, offering a soft glow to the otherwise dark expanse. That didn’t matter though as Rouge was skilled in both night vision and echolocation. With even the faintest sounds of her footsteps, she was able to make out the various piles of relics and treasures stored away near the far wall alongside what seemed to be a sort of stone pillar or throne. She whistled, taking in the spectacle as she moved further into the room. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Hmm…By my account, it seems that most of these relics are prehistoric if not ancient. What do you think, Tiny?”

“Chao chao…” Tiny curled up in fear, hiding themselves within their owner’s snow-white hair.

Rouge patted the baby chao’s head, “There there, Tiny. Mama Rouge won’t let anything happen to you, alright?” She winked, eliciting a small purr from the baby chao as it nestled in deeper for comfort.

She continued onward, “Let’s see…if I were a massive emerald, where would I-OOP!” Rouge tripped over something, flapping her wings frantically to regain her balance. Once she had, she breathed a sigh of relief and looked down to the source of her near-accident. She picked it up, curiosity lining her features as she turned it over in her hands, “A…gear?” 

Her intrigue as a treasure hunter got the better of her. Rouge brushed away the dust, her eyes widening as she took in the sight. Blue, wire-like markings lined the relic, an inscription carved below in tiny lettering. She squinted as she leaned in, using her night vision to make out what it said.

“Hmm…it seems to be written in ancient text…I wonder what it-”

At that moment, the gear began to glow a brilliant, bright blue. Rouge shielded her eyes, Tiny following suit, as the throne along the far wall began to glow in a similar hue. The entire room lit up, blinding all who bore witness. 

Then…

BZZZRT!

The glow subsided.

Rouge unshielded her eyes, “What the…What just-”

She gasped, eyes flying wide.

Now, sitting limp upon the throne was none other than…

“...Shadow?”

The ebony hedgehog remained still, unable to respond while in his peaceful sleep. Rouge dropped the gear, the stone clambering against the floor upon which she fell to her knees in shock. 

“How-?”

“ENGAGING. HEDGEHOG. PRIORITY. ONE.”

“-!!?!?”

Rouge turned, catching sight of the massive E-Series Eggbot as it cocked its arms into position, prepared to fire at the sleeping boy. Shit! It must have followed her in order to steal the master emerald for the doctor! And now-!!

How could she be so clueless!?

“NOOOO!!!!”

She leapt up, racing towards the robot in an attempt to stop the inevitable.

SHAZAP!

Before she had a chance to react, he was already there, lifting her in his arms as he drew his arm back. Energy crackled, a few chaos spears emerging as he aimed for the killer robot in defense. 

“AAAARGH!!!”

He shot his hand forward, the spears launching as he teleported backwards with the bat safely in his arms. The robot drew its arm before its face, creating a shield to block the weak attack. Rouge watched in shock as a few beads of sweat formed along the young hedgehog’s brow, his eyes swimming with fatigue. He dropped his head, catching his breath from the strain of having just woken up. 

“Shadow!”

“N-Nngh…”

“Chao chaoooo!!!”

Tiny flew from the bat’s shoulder, crying out in determination as they pushed their developing wings to their limits. The chao charged towards the robot, ready to defend its owner.

“TINY!!!!!”

“ENGAGE. TARGET.”

The robot’s blasters came online.

“Chaoooooo!!!”

“NOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

The baby chao flew close, its arm outstretched as a sort of fist. Once it got close, however, its wings grew tired. Tiny faltered, fluttering downwards before the massive robot’s glowing, red eyes. Rouge leapt up, ready to attack when something unexpected happened.

The robot…it caught the baby chao…

It held them…

Gazed upon them…

…

…

Then…

“NO. THREAT. DETECTED. ALL. BATTLE. SYSTEMS. OFFLINE.”

Rouge froze, holding her breath as she watched the robot put away its guns. It remained still, observing the tiny chao as its AI ran millions of calculations. Tiny, having believed to take out the bad guy, smiled and nuzzled into the robot’s hands for a nap.

“ERROR. DID. NOT. NEUTRALIZE. HEDGEHOG. YET. SYSTEMS. ARE. OFFLINE. ERROR.”

It turned to face the bat.

“TELL. ME. WHAT. IS. THIS. PROTOCOL.?”

Rouge softened slightly, “Protocol?”

The robot looked back at the chao, “ERROR. I. WAS. NOT. DESIGNED. TO. DO. THIS. ERROR. WHY. IS. THIS. HAPPENING.? ERROR. WHAT. IS. THIS. CODING.? ERROR. DOES. NOT. COMPUTE. ERROR.”

Shadow rose from the ground, stepping next to the curious treasure hunter as he began summoning another set of spears, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this thing and save your tiny friend.”

Rouge leapt in front of him, “Wait, Shadow! I think I can reason with it!”

“Reason with it!? It nearly killed us!”

“I know that but…” She turned back towards the robot, “I think it’s trying to grow past what it was created to do…”

“What it was…” Shadow jolted, a distant memory of the girl with the golden hair playing in his mind. 

“I’m such a failure!”

“No. That isn’t true.”

“But no matter what I try, it still isn’t enough! I was created to house all manner of medicines…to cure you, Maria!” He slammed his fist into the ground as tears sprung into his eyes, “I’m supposed to be the ultimate life form…What value does my life hold if I can’t even do something as simple as that?”

She hugged him tight.

“Shadow…Don’t say that. Your life holds incredible value. You are so much more than what you were created to do.”

“And what’s that?”

She smiled.

“My brother.”

“Shadow?”

The hedgehog jolted again, his mind returning to the present. He turned away, hugging his sides, “...Just do what you need to do so we can get going.”

Rouge watched Shadow in sadness for a moment, “Alright.” She turned back towards the robot, “H-Hey there, big guy…It seems like you have some empathy underneath all that programming…”

The robot looked back up at the bat, “ERROR. I. DO. NOT. UNDERSTAND. WHAT. THIS. EMPATHY. IS. YOU. SPEAK. OF. ERROR. I. WAS. CREATED. TO. DESTROY.”

“Maybe so…but it seems as though you want to be more than that.”

“WANT.? ERROR. I. DO. NOT. WANT. ERROR. WHY. DO. I. WANT. TO. NOT. DESTROY. THIS. CREATURE. YOU. CALL. TINY.? ERROR.”

Rouge smiled, “That’s because you value life. Deep down, you care about adorable, little Tiny…about us…”

“I…CARE.?” The robot looked back down at the chao in its hands, “I. DO. NOT. UNDERSTAND. ERROR. WHY. DO. I. CARE.?”

Rouge placed her hands in the robot’s, “Because you have a heart…”

“HEART…” The robot looked back at the bat, “BUT. I. WAS. NOT. CREATED. WITH. FLESH. AND. ORGANS. SUCH. AS. YOURSELF. ERROR. HOW. CAN. I. HAVE. A. HEART.? ERROR.”

Rouge chuckled, “I don’t mean literally.” She leapt up, flapping her wings to reach the robot’s shoulder and sit upon it, “It just seems that you went beyond your programming and developed emotions…feelings…”

The robot swiveled its head to face her, “EMOTIONS…FEELINGS…”

“You’re choosing who you want to be. Isn’t that amazing?”

“...” The robot swiveled its head to face the sleeping chao in its hands once more, “CHOOSE…I. CAN…CHOOSE.?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

The robot looked back up at her, “HOW. DO. I. KNOW. IF. I. LIKE. WHAT. I. CHOOSE.?”

Rouge smiled again.

Almost there…

“Hmm…I guess you feel…a bit warm inside? Oh! It’s like that feeling when you complete a protocol! I think…”

“HMM…” The robot looked back down at the chao before its glowing eyes closed happily, “YES. I. LIKE. THIS. OVERWRITING. ERROR. CODE. NEW. PROTOCOL.: I. WANT. TO. PROTECT. TINY. CREATURES.” It then turned to face the brooding hedgehog, “YOU. HEDGEHOG. ARE. A. TINY. CREATURE.”

“Hmph! Maybe to you…”

Rouge leapt down, grasping both the hedgehog’s and robot’s hands and joining them together, “That’s so sweet! Now we can be an official team!”

Shadow jolted, “WHAT!!? I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS!!!”

The robot’s eyes smiled, “I. LIKE. THIS. TOO.”

“Awesome! From now on we are…” Rouge thought for a moment before raising a triumphant finger in the air, “TEAM DARK!!!”

“AND I DEFINITELY DID NOT AGREE TO THAT NAME!!!!”

“I. LIKE. IT. I. THINK. IT. SUITS. US.”

“YOU’RE NOT HELPING!!!!”

Rouge ignored the fuming, emo hedgehog, turning back towards the giant robot who now placed the sleeping chao on its head to free its other hand, “So…You got a name, handsome?”

“MY. SERIAL. NUMBER. IS. E. 123-”

Rouge held up her hands in surrender, “Woah there! I was thinking something more like what we have. You know…’Rouge’...’Shadow’...”

A flap clicked partially over the robot’s lenses, giving its eyes a frowning appearance, “I. DO. NOT. HAVE. A. NAME. THIS. I. DO. NOT. LIKE.”

“Well then…” Rouge nudged its side with a wink, “We’ll just have to pick you one, won’t we?”

The robot smiled, “YES. I. WOULD. LIKE. THAT. VERY. MUCH.”

Shadow folded his arms with a scowl, though he couldn’t help but feel somewhat for the self-actualizing robot.

In a way…it reminded him of himself…

Rouge put a hand to her chin, “Hmm…how about…”

“Omega.”

The bat’s eyes flew wide, both she and the robot turning towards the antagonistic hedgehog.

“Omega?”

Shadow glanced to the side, “Yes. It’s a symbol used in math to represent a function…you know…like how this robot wants to find his function in life…”

Rouge snickered, “Oh my- Did you just make a math pun!?”

Shadow growled, “Don’t test me, nurse.”

“OMEGA…” The robot paused, taking in the name with a smile, “I. LIKE. IT. FROM. NOW. ON. YOU. CAN. CALL. ME. OMEGA. DESTROYER. OF. ALL. WHO. WOULD. HARM. ADORABLE. TINY. CREATURES.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Ugh…”

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

By the time Team Dark left the hidden room, the sun was already setting against a crimson sky. Shadow shielded his eyes, not yet accustomed to the light of the planet below. 

“Hey…Shadow?”

The hedgehog overlooking the darkening planet turned towards the girl, “Hm? What is it, Maria?” 

She smiled, “Do you know why the sun sets red?”

His eyes widened. He looked back towards the planet, “It…doesn’t seem red to me…”

She giggled, “No, silly! On Earth! Apparently the sun turns a deep red on Earth as it sets for the day!” She smiled with glee, “It’s amazing, isn’t it!?”

Shadow paused before looking down in remorse, “I…wouldn’t know…”

He looked back up with determination.

“But I’ll find out for you one day, Maria. I promise.”

The hedgehog watched the sunset, his face just as determined as it had been that day aboard the Ark. 

“Maria…I haven’t forgotten that promise…”

Rouge’s ear flicked, “Maria? Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long while…”

Shadow’s eyes popped wide, having not realized he’d been talking out loud. He turned away, hiding his face, “And what’s it to you? You’re a government spy, are you not?”

“Was, honey. You’ve…been gone for a pretty long time…”

Shadow turned towards her, “How long exactly?”

“Depends on which dimension you’re referencing.”

Shadow jolted, “D-Dimension!?” His face grew stern, “You mean to tell me we aren’t on Earth!?”

“No, darling. We aren’t.”

Shadow’s eyes widened in horror, “W-Where-”

“Mobius.”

“Mobius?”

“Yes, a world that exists in a dimension parallel to Earth, yet is home to an entire population of people like you and me.”

Shadow continued staring at her in terror before pulling his gaze away sharply, “Tsch!” He closed his eyes, his clenched fists trembling as he found his next words, “Then this is where you and I part ways.”

He took a few steps forward towards the edge of the sanctuary’s cliff as Omega joined Rouge, Tiny still fast asleep on his head.

“Wait what!?” Rouge gritted her fangs as she reached out to grab the young hedgehog’s hand, “No way!! You just happen to appear out of some mystic portal alive and well on a planet you know nothing about and you expect me to just let you walk away all alone!? I don’t think so, mister!! You’re coming with me!!”

Shadow stayed turned away, “I have a mission to fulfill first.”

“And that is?”

Shadow opened his eyes as crimson as the setting sun.

“To see Maria home safe at all costs.”

CHAPTER END

Fun Fact: "Tiny" is the name of my hero chao in my SA2 save file. Ajax is my dark chao. I could have kept it accurate, but just thought "Tiny" would make for a cuter name and could be incorporated more naturally since, you know, Rouge comes up with all the nicknames based on physical characteristics lol.

I'll have to update with a pic sometime.

[kneesheee]

50 Things to Know about the Disney-verse

1. Ursula and Maleficent are rivals so Uma and Mal being rivals also tracks.

2. The Evil Queen and Maleficent are rivals for Hades' affections and for the status of "The Evilest of Them All'.

3. The Evil Queen claims not to be Hades' girlfriend, but they just had "an interesting weekend" on Castaway Cay. And therefore, I headcanon that she is Hadie’s mom. Probably conceived sometime around Evie’s banishment.

4. In the Disney Villains: Top Secret Files, Maleficent is featured in her own section. According to the pieces of information provided, Maleficent's last name is Faery.

5. She was actually invited to Aurora's birth ceremony and that the invitation simply never got to her castle because she burnt the postman to death (believing him to be a trespasser) before he could deliver it.

6. Her dragon form also appeared in The Little Mermaid series episode "Heroes" as a sea dragon.

7. Captain Hook tried to charm her, only to be zapped away leaving behind his hook. Jafar also tried to woo her while they sat together, only to end up being literally burnt.

8. It was revealed in "A Christmas Cruella" that she did want a puppy before becoming her villainous self.

9. Cruella has a brother named Cecil and a niece named Ivy. However, Cecil is not Ivy's father, meaning that Cruella and Cecil must have another sibling (most likely a brother) who is Ivy's parent.

10. In 102 Dalmatians: Puppies to the Rescue, Cruella has set up a toy factory next to DeVil Manor. She seems to have tried online dating, where she has supposedly wed herself to Professor Farzboom, a meek professor who helps her make her toys. So there’s Carlos’ dad.

11. In "Max's Embarrassing Date", she went on a date with the Beast and asked if he came in a medium, which the Beast became annoyed of. After the Beast gets soaked with soup he was eating, Cruella is unhappy as she would have to get him dry-cleaned.

12. Walt Disney's early vision for The Rescuers revolved around the kidnapping of a polar bear from a city zoo; writers considered reusing Cruella as the main antagonist (presumably driven by her desire for the bear's fur).

13. The concept art of the film shows Cruella wearing an outfit made out of crocodile leather. Because The Rescuers was set more than a decade after 101 Dalmatians, Cruella was given a period-appropriate update. Aside from her '70s alligator-chic outfit, Cruella is accessorized with Sly and the Family Stone-style sunglasses. In other sketches, De Vil is depicted in bell-bottom pants and a pair of platforms. Other concept art showed Cruella driving a water vehicle similar to the one Medusa uses in the final film.

14. The Prince is usually known as Prince Charming, though some source material shows that his name is Henri, or Henry. However, he was never referred to by name anywhere in the film. Not even mentioned as "Prince Charming".

15. The story takes place roughly in June. In the movie, the sun rises slightly before 6:00 AM (in France), as it would within a few weeks of the summer solstice. Also, by this time, a pumpkin would have grown to 20–40 pounds.

16. The debate of the setting of Cinderella has always been a problem, but most people can agree it is French; however, there is a small amount of people who think it is Spanish because the female names end in "A" but that does not really cut it so deeper research shows that the thing on Anastasia's head is a peineta or headdress used in Spain along with formal attire also the French furnishings and the Spanish furnishings within the same time period are very similar in style.

17. Cinderella is the “oldest” princess in the official franchise being 19 while Snow White is the youngest being 14. Also, Snow White’s prince was suppose to be 18 according to Disney’s records.

18. In the third movie, Cinderella’s shoe size is mentioned to be a size 4½ in women's. According to Disney's Villains' Revenge, Snow White has smaller feet than Cinderella.

19. Cinderella was actually rich at the beginning, even before she married the prince. This was exempted, however, as she was forced to work as a servant.

20. In some stories, Cinderella's real name was Ella (short for Eleanor), and because she would always lie in cinders, her stepfamily would call her CinderElla. However, in the Disney film, "Cinderella" is truly her name by birth.

21. Cinderella's last name would likely have been Tremaine since her stepmother's name was Lady Tremaine unless Lady Tremaine kept her maiden name.

22. According to Disneystrology, Cinderella’s birthday is September 6.

23. According to the Disneystrology book, Snow White’s birthday would be on March 6.

24. Cinderella is magical. She has a special ability to empathize with animals, perceive what they say and communicate with them.

25. Melody is the very first human-merperson hybrid in history, making her birth a significant historic moment in both human and Atlantican history.

26.She is also not considered a canon descendant’s character and considered to be from an AU, but apparently, Beauty & The Beast, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and The Little Mermaid are considered to be happening roughly around the same time in the disney timeline.

26. Melody's bedroom is Ariel's guest room when she first took human form and stayed with Prince Eric, albeit recolored with brighter colors.

27. Contrary to popular belief, Jasmine's age has never been confirmed or even referenced in any of the Aladdin movies, television series, or other spinoff projects. In the original film, the Sultan declares that Jasmine must be married "by her next birthday", but never specifies how old she will become on said birthday.

28. An early story concept for the original film had the Sultan saying, "Jasmine, the law says you must be married by your sixteenth birthday.", which would have made her fifteen years old. This concept was scrapped when Jeffrey Katzenberg became worried about sending the wrong message regarding the idea that fifteen year old girls can get married. Thus, the line was changed to "married to a prince by your next birthday.", leaving Jasmine's canonical age unknown.

29. One of the Disney Princess magazines has a story about two of Jasmine's cousins named Farah and Nadine. Whether they are considered canon is unknown.

30. Although the exact date is not clear, Jasmine's birthday is in late January or early February. This is because when Aladdin and Jasmine fly on the magic carpet, Chinese New Year is being celebrated over in China. This holiday can fall anywhere from January 21 to February 20.

31. She also has another cousin named Sharma who teaches at The Royal Academy.

32. Nasira is the better sorcerer between her and her twin brother, Jafar.

33. According to Disneystrology, Tiana’s birthday would be on December 25, Christmas Day.

34. The trailer implies that Gaston may have been aware of the Beast's curse, and had ulterior motives besides wanting Belle as his wife for attempting to kill the Beast, as the trailer described him as being "one man who wants to keep the spell alive," although it is unconfirmed whether this was the case in the film itself.

35. Despite various concept materials, as listed above, give Gaston the surname of LeGume, the Bimbettes during the song of "Belle" refer to Gaston as "Monsieur Gaston" and Belle in the reprise twice sarcastically refers to herself as "Madame Gaston" suggesting that Gaston is his surname in the final version.

36. The Bimbettes (individual names Claudette, Laurette, and Paulette) are blonde identical triplets who fawn over Gaston. They are inspired by Belle's sisters from the original Beauty and the Beast fairy tale.

37. They are the first Disney characters to possess green eyes without being villains

38. These girls worked their asses off in the comics to get Gaston to notice them. 😩

39. Its implied in one comic that Belle and Gaston were friends when they were children.

40. Ironically, despite Belle being considered by the village to be the most beautiful woman in the village, Laurette once disguised herself as Belle flawlessly enough to fool Gaston initially, which conflicted with the claim that Belle's looks had no parallel.

41. Even though he is referred to as a prince in the opening, none of the characters directly refer to him by that title. In addition, the first draft for Woolverton's take of the film indicated that the Beast was intended to be a duke instead of a prince.

42. According to the first stained-glass window featured in the film's opening sequence, Adam’s family motto is "vincit qui se vincit" (meaning "The winner is who wins himself").

42. Though the Beast's official age is not mentioned in the movie, it is strongly indicated by the narrator's statement that the rose "would bloom until his 21st year." As the rose has already begun to wilt by the time Belle arrives at the castle, it is very likely that the Beast is 20 years (i.e. on their 21st year) of age by this point.

43. In authorized supplementary comics, most notably The New Adventures of Beauty and the Beast, the Prince is never shown as being older than a preteen when he's shown as a human; moreover, the palace staff all refer to his pre-curse self as "a young boy" or "child". Two individual comics show that the Prince was originally a few years older than Chip, who didn't age during the curse, and shows him as being a couple of years older than Belle herself. The comics also show that the Prince has had a few run-ins with the disguised Enchantress, meaning that he'd still be a preteen when he was cursed.

44. Despite her slim figure, Belle seems to have considerable strength. She may have lifted the Beast, as evidenced by the Beast being placed onto Philippe's back, although this was never shown on-screen. Later on, she was able to pull the Beast up onto a balcony.

45. Belle is currently the only official Disney Princess to have hazel eyes.

46. In the beginning of the original 1989 storyline, found on the Diamond Edition DVD, Belle's birthday is celebrated, and the cake reads "Happy 17th Birthday Belle", providing evidence that she is 17 in the movie, or at least that she was originally planned to be 17.

47. Contrary to popular belief, it's not made clear whether Belle was actually born a peasant, as she implies that she wasn't born in her home village in the opening song, but rather moved there. In addition, her owning books at her cottage implied that she is, or at least was, considerably wealthy (as back in the time period of the film, books were considerably expensive).

48. In the musical, specifically the song "No Matter What" one of the lyrics had Maurice stating "You are your mother's daughter; therefore you are class ... crème de la crème", implying that Belle was part of the social upper class. This was also supported by Belle having a portrait of her and her mom in the Enchanted Tales of Belle attraction.

49. In earlier drafts, Aladdin had three human friends named Babkak, Omar, and Kassim.

50. In the episode "Two to Tangle", it's revealed that Aladdin has unexplored magic powers hidden within his soul. This may possibly be a link to him being "The Diamond In The Rough".

[ms-scarletwings]

We gotta start accurately calling Sly Cooper a low fantasy universe at some point. It’s retrospectively wild how much supernatural shit is going on in front of your face that you don’t think about because it’s like… nothing to the characters that it’s happening to. People who have never played Sly Cooper have no clue how nonchalantly it grinds this rail between just “real world noire but furries” and straight up DC superpowers stuff.

• The surprising amount of undead, in hindsight

Black magic is just, you know, a thing…. and outside of when it’s the weapon of choice of the villain of the week, it’s not even really brought up. Tsao was building an army of honest to god vampires and Mz.Ruby has been fraternizing with homemade ghouls since she was a child. A second-game side quest involves descetrating a tomb, kidnapping a bunch of restless ghosts, and then unleashing them on the cops for a good prank. For Pete’s sake, Clockwerk, biggest bad of the franchise, is basically an eldritch machine possessed by the vengeful spirit of someone who became too petty and angry to die.

• There are people born with innate superpowers

So, there is no debate going on with the deal about Cooper abilities and this point, right? Sure, the Theivious Raccoonus has a lot of good pointers any thief worth their salt could gain from, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say somethings along the lines of gliding down lasers or turning invisible on command are a bit out of most readers’ capabilities. The 1st game’s humor in explaining off gameplay mechanics as in-universe phenomena had the unintended consequence of establishing that the Cooper clan members literally have a criminally inclined sort of spidey sense- literally hallucinating glowing auras and blue sparkles around anything both valuable and not nailed down. I think I also awkward appreciated the parallel to be spotted between the Cooper honer code and the self imposed limitations other media supers live by. That idea of “you have the gift of amazing power and you will choose to use it responsibly”, all the better here for the ways in which the clan’s premise subverts classic hero/villain dynamics.

• Ancient techniques of sorcery

run right alongside conventional weaponry

Some supers are born in this world, a lot of them are made. As if anyone with the time to practice and learn can just pick it up like karate. Religion has to be crazy in Sly Cooper considering there’s entire spiritualisms given demonstrable and epic power in what their followers are capable of. Murray literally can do some degree of magic from the third game and onward and there’s no telling what else he learned over the course of his Dreamtime training. Anyone with the wits and resources of the Contessa can figure out how to toy around with freaking mind controlling dark arts. Don’t get me started again on the whole “army of undead” thing which gets even weirder by the implication that the world does nothing to regulate these kind of abilities UP AND UNTIL the user starts to roleplay a cocky little warlord with their zombie friends. And Flame Fu is right there. A lot of what the panda king can do is closer to Bentley’s realm- very complicated and meticulous works of pyrotechnics, but Flame Fu is a whole something else that belongs in this discussion.

• Magical items and mythical beasts

The Mask of Dark Earth, the guru’s special stone, an entire kraken, a whole laundry list of things in The Contessa’s possession, an enormous swamp serpent, haunted trees, whatever the hell kind of ring Dimitri was wearing in the second game, a giant stone dragon statue that turns out to be AN ACTUAL FREAKING DRAGON in dormancy, a supercharged ancient bamboo forest, potentially the Cooper cane itself, and the not-to-be-overlooked every single piece of Clockwerk’s cursed body. I know I’m probably forgetting something because that was just off the cuff. It’s kind of wild that most of what we watch the Coopers focus on stealing can be stuff like museum paintings in a world where magic flying carpets are confirmed to exist. The hell. Why was I ever mocking the pirates in Bloodbath Bay for their paranoia and superstition?? Best part was always that basically none of it phased the resident smarty pants nerd character like it usually would anyone who fills that trope. Because of magic is just an accepted and normalized thing in the world, why WOULD Bentley talk about it any different than he would the history of lumberjacks or combustion physics? Instead of conflicting against his understanding of science, it just tacks onto it as more additional info, you know… the way it would if magic was just another set of rules to study and understand.

[sabraeal]

A Heart Like Stone Turned to Flesh, Chapter 1

[Read on AO3]

Written for @onedivinemisfit, who has been waiting quite patiently for this little birthday gift for a few months now 😅It was originally supposed to be based on one of her Frimmel artworks-- which, technically, it still is-- but I decided to include one of her other too, and the whole project grew into a multichap with a first chapter that addresses...neither of them. BUT I WILL GET THERE SOME DAY.

“Well.” Fog curls up from Sein’s mouth, sprawling into the same delicate lace as smoke. It's so familiar Frieren half-expects the cloying scent to follow, tobacco clinging to her clothes like a child does his mother’s sleeve. “I’ll give your friend this: that Himmel guy certainly got around.”

She has to crane her neck to catch his face— more than she ever did when he was alive. But this pinch is what’s more familiar to her now, habit narrowing her eyes to a squint against the sun. It’s him, alright; even with the morning light prying its way past her lashes, she can see the cocky tilt to his chin and the sly slant to his smile. “He liked helping everyone. It made him popular no matter where we went.”

Sometimes too popular. More than once she’d caught him sneaking out a window, just to avoid the crush of young girls lingering outside their inn, eager to meet The Hero they’d heard so much about.  He’d been shy about it, nervous those first few times— funny, for a boy his age; she’d always thought human adolescents were supposed to be eager for that sort of exploration, their short lifespans spurring them toward procreation before their brains fully finished developing enough to understand the consequences.

You won’t tell anyone? he’d asked, hanging there by the bedsheets, hair a haystack blown to the four winds. She’d only answered, who would I tell?

The girls, of course, which she did as soon as they’d crowded her at the door. And Heiter and Eisen, once she’d caught up with them in town. They’d laughed for a full quarter hour over it, winding down one moment only to work right up to a full guffaw the next. And when Himmel joined them, tunic sticking to his skin and lipstick smeared across his cheeks, thoroughly harassed— well, they’d started right back up again.

I didn’t say I wouldn’t, she would remind him when he turned those wounded eyes on her. And he’d only whine, I didn’t realize you were being hypothetical!

“If there’s one of these here, then the village must be nearby.” Fern furrows her brow— the way Heiter never would, not unless he was quoting scripture three sheets to the wind and tripping over one of those trumped up Empire words, like pervicacious or abnegation or, on one memorable night, copulation— and peers down the road. “Maybe those directions weren’t so useless after all.”

“See?” Sein thrusts out a generous hand, looking every inch the benevolent priest he isn’t. “Northern wisdom. No one knows this land like the people who live here. If you’d only let me finish talking to that nice older woman, then maybe we would have—”

“We still were wandering for almost three days,” she says, as cold as the mountain pass they’d trudged through trying to get to this valley. “Either that nice older woman didn’t know what she was talking about, or you were too busy staring at her to pay attention.”

Frieren rocks on her heels, just a little smug. “I think I know which one it is.”

One glance at her sends Sein sputtering, tripping over himself to insist, “I’m sure she said she knew a man who went this way once. A merchant, I mean. You know, a regular traveler.”

“I’m sure she did.” The chill in Fern’s tone could give a flame frostbite.

It certainly seems to burn Sein’s hide, since he hurries to add, “She’s given the same directions to other travelers too, and never had any complaints.”

“Complaints aren’t a bad thing.” Frieren tilts her head, gaze sliding up, up, until she meets Sein’s furrowed brow. Not a bad look on him, she has to admit. Thinking looks good on just about everyone; it’s a pity most people don’t do it more often. “It means the directions weren’t so terrible they couldn’t find their way back.”

“Well, sure,” he huffs, more steam rising from his mouth, consternation turning to storm before roiling away into the afternoon air. “But if they found their way, they wouldn’t come back either, unless, er…”

“They were just visiting?” It’s not that she enjoys seeing Sein squirm, it’s just— well, it is funny. A big man like that, a priest— the goddess’s chosen as they used to say— standing around and stammering, his cheeks discovering deeper shades of pink. Doesn’t really get old, no matter how many times she’s seen it. Or who she’s seen it on. “And then they’d be sure to come back the same way, wouldn’t they? To say thank you, at least.”

“H-huh.” His eyes squint— she wouldn’t have noticed, all those months ago, when they first began dragging him along behind them. But now his deflection is like an old friend, one fondly missed in all those years away. “Well, I suppose, uh…”

It’s impossible to meet his eyes— he’s head and shoulders taller than her for one thing, and not inclined to stoop down right now, for another— but she leans in, new snow crunching beneath the thick soles of her boots, and smiles. “Did she then? Have people come back to thank her for the good directions?”

“I didn’t inquire,” he sniffs, arms folded forbiddingly across his chest. “Her credentials seemed unquestionable.”

Fern snorts. “Her cup size, you mean.”

“It just seems like an odd place to put it, doesn’t it?” Stark says, sudden as always, his head still cocked to match his hero’s. “The statue I mean. Don’t they usually like to have a whole town square around these things? Put some garlands on and have a whole festival about it?”

“Not always.” Fern might not spare Himmel another glance, but she does fix one to Stark, for all that he notices. “I’ve seen plenty on roadsides, and more than a few in some glen or gully, all forgotten and worn down.”

“Villages move, plans change.” It’s her third time on this road in a century, and it never ceases to surprise her what things move, and what things carry on just the same, as if the years had never passed. “Especially this far north. People put down roots, and then a river changes, or the harvest doesn’t come in quite right, and they pull them right up again.”

Stark squints. “So this is where the village is supposed to be?”

“Who knows.” Frieren lets her eyes linger where the sweep of Himmel’s hair cuts across his forehead, the work so delicate she’d swear the barest breeze would ruffle it. “Maybe they just liked how it looked.”

“I’m just surprised they had someone around who could make a statue.” Sein’s hands hook behind his head; support for his surreptitious surveying. They’ve been missing that too the past few years— his casual curiosity, a welcome change from Fern’s weary antipathy and Stark’s unreliable attention. An eagerness to dig deep and turn up worms, instead of hurrying along to the next mark on their map. “Nice as some places might be up here now, we Northerners aren’t really known for our fine artisans, if you know what I mean.”

Fern stoops down, one robe-covered hand reaching out to wipe frost and years from the plinth, scowling when all she uncovers is blank stone. “Well it looks like he found one, at least.”

“You’d be surprised what you can turn up in these small villages. A girl who paints masterpieces on cave walls. An innkeep that single handedly slays demons before trudging back to serve his next pint.” She casts a knowing look toward Sein, her mouth taking a sly slant. “The best healer of the age.”

“And some farmhand sleeping in a barn who can sculpt like the great masters?” If he hears the compliment, Sein certainly doesn’t take it. He just snorts instead, shaking his head. “If there’s one thing that Himmel was, it was dedicated to being carved out of stone.”

She can still remember the smell of that workshop— wood shavings and clay, and some other sour note that stung her nose, clinging long after they left— and the way dust motes had eddied around Himmel’s cloak as he turned to her. I just thought I’d like everyone to remember me.

That would have been reason enough; humans were impulsive, short lived. They got tangled up in their sense of mortality, agonizing over legacy, over that second death, when a name is last spoken and all about them fades from memory. But Himmel— Himmel lets the light catch him, the ice of his eyes softening, melting as he tells her, but the biggest reason is so that you won’t be alone.

“Well,” she hums, lingering on the still familiar angles of his jaw, the delicate swoop of his nose. “He did like wasting our time. Almost as much as helping people.”

When her gaze drops, Sein’s is waiting for her, so amused— no, so fond that Frieren can’t help but wonder if he missed them all just as much as they did him.

“We should get going,” he says, both firm and gentle. Confident, maybe; knowing he’ll be heard. “Night’s not going to wait around for us, and I don’t have to tell you, it gets cold when the sun goes down around here.”

Frieren shivers just thinking about it. “Good point.”

Heiter might have teased her about her height— unfair, when Eisen was even shorter; size doesn’t matter when it comes to getting underfoot, that corrupt old priest would say, ruffling her hair— but it’s easy to tuck close to Sein when he walks, to let the heat that escapes even his thick coat warm her through hers. He’s a furnace compared to Heiter and his marble-cold hands— funny, she’d always heard drunks were warmer— and he complains less too, just stilling his arm with a sigh as she settles beside him. As long as the village isn’t too far, they might make it before he even—

Stops. Just like he does now, leaving her to lurch back on her heels to miss his elbow. “Stark?”

There’s tracks in the snow: four of them leading to the statue, making a muddle of slush around the base of it. But there’s only three leading away, the second largest set stuck beneath Stark’s thick boots, lingering right where they left him. Staring— no, squinting up at Himmel the Hero, jaw slack enough even snow might stick.

Fern heaves a sigh, arms folding into their most frustrated angles. “What’s wrong with you?”

Sein just barely stifles a groan. This, she suspects, he hasn’t missed.

“I dunno.” His head tilts, red and black shifting in its starburst. “Do you think…?”

“More than you, certainly,” Fern snaps. “Are you coming, or should we just leave you here?”

“Now, now, give the kid a minute.” Sein may put on his most peaceable tones, playing his priestly part to the hilt, but Frieren doesn’t miss the way his mouth curls, one side of his benevolent smile hitching to a smirk. “We all have our crushes now and again.”

“I don’t have a crush!” Stark yelps, whipping wide-eyes toward them. “It’s just— isn’t there something weird about this statue? You know, something different about it?”

It would be easy to brush off his concerns— Stark might be the strongest of them, but he’s the first to make shadows out of sunshine too, trembling right down to his boots at the smallest creak in the floorboards— but Frieren finds herself turning, blinking up into the late morning sun, tracing her eyes over stony flesh, counting two ears and ten fingers, hair artfully blowing in a wind eighty years gone.

“It looks like every other statue,” Fern informs him, utterly implacable. A fitting look for a mage of her skill— so long as it isn’t aimed Frieren’s way, of course. “Now let’s get going. My feet are going to get cold if we keep standing around in this snow.”

“But isn’t it…?” Stark squints up at the statue, stymied. “Isn’t it more, I dunno…detailed?”

Fern clicks her tongue. “Detailed?”

“You can see his mole!” One gloved hand swings out, jutting up towards a stony cheek. “Most statues don’t even bother with that. And his hair’s kinda all uneven in the back, like he cut it himself—”

“Heiter did.” They’d argue about it endlessly; Heiter, always too hungover to walk in a straight line let alone cut one, insisting that as an avatar of the goddess’s grace and kindness, his skills were unimpeachable, and Himmel, seized by an absurd and exacting bout of vanity, insisting that he try again, only actually good this time. “They were both hopeless with a pair of scissors. I don’t know why he never asked Eisen to try. He had steadier hands, at least.”

Stark juts a hand her way, pointed. “See?”

“Can’t say I see it,” Sein admits after a long moment, slanting a glance down to where she stands. “What do you think? You’re the expert on Himmel the Hero, here.”

The title pricks at her, like needles sinking into her skin. Expert, ha. That’s the whole reason they’re going north to begin with, isn’t it? Because she never really knew him at all.

She shrugs. “I can’t say. At this point, I’ve seen so many they all sort of blur together.”

But he’s right about the mole though. Most sculptors didn’t bother with the imperfections, fixing Heiter’s glazed over stare the mornings he showed up still soused to their sessions, or the kinks sleep put in Eisens beard, and sometimes even giving her one of those benevolent goddess smiles. This must have been a good one. Strange that she can’t quite remember it.

“Why are you spending so much time looking at these statues anyway?” Fern huffs as he finally tromps away, adding a fourth set of tracks beside their three. “It’s weird.”

“It’s not weird!” It’d be a better protest if his voice didn’t crack on the last word. “It’s obvious. Just because none of you have been paying attention doesn’t mean that I—”

Whatever he says is lost to the woods, swallowed up by the thickening firs and their hastening steps. Oh, she could hear them, if she wanted to— they’re not all that far away, and as Eisen always used to grunt, you don’t have all that ear for nothin’— it’s only…

It’s only when she looks at Himmel, she can see the way his mouth is just subtly open, poised not just to stand but to speak. As if he’s just one breath away from calling out to her, hand already half raised to greet her. As if all she might have to do it reach out, and stone might warm in her hand, becoming flesh, and she—

“Do you need a minute?”

She’s not the sort that flinches— never was, at least according to Flamme— but she does shake herself, like a sleeper shaking off a dream.

“No.” Sein lingers behind her, not close, but enough that she can see the furrow bridging his brow, concern burning as bright as any hearth. “Just thinking.”

*

The village isn’t much to write home about; just a smattering of houses that cluster up around a crossroads like nearly every other one they’ve seen since they strolled out of the Empire’s lands and into the deeper, bleaker North. It’s honestly not even too dissimilar from his own, though that’s a detail he’ll refrain from recounting when he finally does get to settle in and pen his letter back home. His brother may be a captive audience for the duration of three sheets of paper— even crossed, which Sein would consider a bridge too far himself— but he hardly needs to harp on the minutiae of being in a small village when that fool still lives in one.

No, he saves his spare inches for stories; ones he’s told by the toothless old men in taverns and the rotating roster of aspiring heroes he’s traveled alongside on his search for Gorilla. Ones he’s lived through himself, as well— nearly being flown off by some bird-monster took two pages of tightly-woven prose to relate, and wandering in some goddess-forsaken dungeon for three days with two hygiene deficient warriors had been a page and a half if only so he wouldn’t have to remember the smell.

The longest, of course, was the month they spent at the village on the Rohr Road, waiting out that cold spell.

I can’t take it much more, he’d scrawled, admittedly a little too deep in his cups. They might say that a little romance is the death of a party, but I’d take it over these two children dancing around each other, trying to find ways to twist the other into moving first! If I’d known I’d have to suffer a schoolroom flirtation, I might never have gone at all.

It’d been nearly four pages, front-to-back and crossed besides; every word of it spent venting his frustration at the futility of youth— and, more specifically, Stark’s inability to understand an implicit invitation. Not that Sein could blame him; Fern was just the sort of girl to roll up a welcome mat from under a man’s feet for nothing but the high crime of perceiving they could stand on it in the first place. He’d nearly burned the letter in the morning— who would want to read his drunken complaints about two romantically confused idiots they have never even met?— but…

He’d sent it anyway. They moved too often for him to get replies now that they’ve traveled beyond the civilized world— or at least, what he had always thought would be the boundaries of it, back in his small village, dreaming of bigger things. But Sein liked to think his brother enjoyed them, these letters from world’s end, smelly companions and luckless young lovers and all. That when he sat at the window of his parsonage, poring over letters by the morning light, he might smile and shake his head, wondering at the strange sights his brother saw.

It was the least he could do, anyway. Give a little of the world back to the brother who gave his up for him.

“That’s the headman’s house.” Stark hops up from his crouch, too young for his knees to creak the way Sein’s would. The lucky bastard. “Right there, on the corner. The big one.”

He thrusts out an arm, finger fixed to where a large log building sits, lintels well-carved and chimneys merrily pushing out smoke.

“That one, huh?” Sein squints, hands hooking on his hips. “I had that pegged as the village hall. Just look at the size of it.”

“Big family, maybe.” Frieren trots up to his elbow, hooking close like a child to their mother’s apron strings, afraid they might get lost on market day. But there’s no market out here, just children playing in the muddy streets and folk lingering at fence posts, wondering at the crowd of strangers that just rolled in. “I’m not sure, but Stark’s sources are unimpeachable.”

“Unim…?” Sein’s teeth snick shut as he traces the tilt of her smirk to find a knot of young girls giggling as they walk away. One waves, a corner of her pinafore caught up in her hands, and Stark hunches into his coat, the tips of his ears burnished a bright red.

“They made him play hero before they’d tell him,” she explains, voice nowhere near soft enough to escape Stark’s notice, no matter how much of a show she made of keeping it behind a hand.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he says staunchly, giving the boy an encouraging nod. Around these two ladies, men like them had to stick together. “Stark already is one.”

For all his good intentions, Stark merely moans, sinking further into his collar. It’s Fern that clarifies, “They made him play hero to their forest lady. He had to pretend to get stuck in the mud and need saving at least three times before he begged them to let him go.”

“The hero needing saving?” That was certainly a new one, though by the smug little smirk on Frieren’s face, not unwelcome. “That’s not your friend’s usual narrative when he traipses through a town. You guys run into a little trouble here, once?”

“Not that I can remember,” she admits, and Sein doesn’t think he imagines the hint of disappointment. “But most of these northern towns blend together for me.”

“Really?” Fern tilts her head, wide eyes not curious but incredulous. “But you remember almost everything.”

“Not everything.” It’s Frieren’s turn to sink into her scarf, the ends of her ears twitching, like a cat well harassed. “We only went through twice, and I didn’t see the point of coming so far north, afterward.”

Their party might have a thousand year old elf, one of the handful of First Class mages on the continent, and a favorite of the goddess herself, but yet it’s Stark that thinks to say, “Did Himmel?”

Sein’s boots stutter beneath him, sinking into the muddy road as he turns to stare, stunned at the boy behind him. He’s hardly the only one; Stark shrinks back, hands raised like it might somehow shield him from a well-aimed Zoltraak. “W-what? It makes sense, doesn’t it? You were wandering around for fifty years, he was wandering around for fifty years…?”

“He does,” Fern starts, every syllable begrudging, “have a point.”

“It could be.” Those pale pigtails tilt, ribbons of silver slipping down Frieren’s coat before she shakes herself free of the thought. “I don’t think it’s likely though. It took long enough for us to get here the first time, never mind a return trip. Maybe it was some other hero. Plenty of them came up this way trying to get to the Demon King.”

But not many would have made it this far. “And what about the forest lady? Some local legend? A spirit we should be aware of?”

“Maybe.” Frieren slanted him one of her too-knowing grins. “Or it could be whatever survived of your goddess.”

He stares down at her, unamused. “Pardon me?”

“It happens sometimes, once you get far enough past the Empire’s influence.” She’s got a jaunty little spring to her step now, despite the mud splashing up the sides of her boots. “People settle, stories change, holy books are lost— if they were ever brought in the first place— and you get these sorts of spirits. Benevolent women living in woods and lakes and caves. One time, there was even a well where—”

“A well?” Fern frowns, as stern as Master Heiter never was. “I don’t think the goddess would live in a well.”

“Who’s to say she doesn’t?” Her smile is downright benevolent when she adds, “If church doctrine says that the goddess is everywhere, doesn’t that mean wells too?”

Sein sees the lightning before it strikes; Fern’s mouth furrows as deep as her brow, marshaling all of her best arguments together, a priest’s daughter, through and through—

“Don’t,” he murmurs, holding out a hand. “Trust me on this one.”

Now it’s him that her temper’s aimed at, glaring at the arm he’s held out in front of her. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no point in arguing doctrine with a person who predates it by a good hundred years.” His mouth tilts, only making hers furrow deeper. “Not unless you want her to start in on water closets too.”

The girl blinks. “Water…closets…?”

“We should go talk to the headman,” Frieren calls back, both her and Stark outpacing them now. “Are you two coming?”

Sein raises his hand in answer, hurrying to catch up to Frieren’s much smaller heels, but from behind him, he still hears the soft murmur of, “Water closets.”

*

“It gets colder from here,” the headman warns them, one hand digging into the thick pelt of his beard. He’s a hale man, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested— built like Master Eisen, only twice as tall. The sort of man who might have made a good warrior, Stark thinks, if only he’d been born in his village and not the back end of the world. “Hard to believe, I know, but even with all the snow on the peaks, we stay a good deal warmer than out past them.”

“It’s probably because of the mountains.” Frieren pops up on her toes, squinting toward the sky. Even lifts a hand up to shield her eyes, like she’s some kid trying to peek over her neighbor’s fence.  “They’re blocking you from the wind. This whole valley’s just a pocket of warm air.”

“I don’t know much about that,” the man— Gesund, he’d said, when he first started showing them around the place— says warmly. “But if you folks don’t want to brave the long nights and deep snows, you’re welcome to stay on for winter. We’ve got more than enough room.”

“Might not be a bad idea.” Sein’s got a speculative look on, taking in everything from the mountains peeking up above the tree line to the mud caking to their feet. Funny how they’d been walking in snow just this morning, and now that the day’s got a bit long in the tooth, there’s not a speck of it to be seen. “I don’t imagine there’s many other places around here to take us in.”

“Certainly not as nice.” The headman pats the side of one sturdy, log-hewn home, pride radiating off him. “There’s a few villages once you get out of the mountains, but the pass closes with the first frost.”

It’d already been harrowing enough getting through the first time; Stark shivers just thinking about another. A couple nights ago, it got cold enough for Sein to start talking about how some men in his village got lost wandering around their wood and gutted a fresh-caught stag for somewhere warm to sleep. Fern had scoffed, telling him to keep his gross old man stories to himself, but Stark—

Well, what bothered Stark was that it didn’t sound too bad. Not until morning, at least, which was way too long for him to be considering whether the goats around here might be just as warm, or if he’d have to kill two of them to fit.

“We don’t have much pocket money.” Fern’s mouth is strung as tight as their purse strings, voice pitched only to be heard by the four of them. “If we stay, there won’t be enough for—”

Snacks, that’s what she means to say. It’s the only sort of consequence Frieren understands, since time isn’t a limited quantity. But before she can eke out any kind of dire promise, Gesund says: “Don’t worry about that.”

A mistake on his part; worrying over their budget is one of Fern’s favorite pastimes. If anything, her mouth pulls tighter, brows dropping a dangerous degree. “Excuse me?”

Excuse you, she means, but if Gesund hears it, he waves it off with the rest of their concerns. “I’ve got a spare house. Built it for my son.”

He gestures to a boy who can’t be much younger than Stark himself, though he’s got a lot more limb, proportionally, and a lot less muscle. Nothing a few hard years working the land won’t change, but slower progress than throwing around an axe. Safer, though. By miles.

“For when he marries,” the headman explains, clapping the boy on the shoulder. The kid looks like he’d rather wither into the earth than sit through this particular explanation. “But no one’s caught his eye yet, and what young man prefers to keep his own house when he could have what his mother’s put on the table?”

It’s to Stark that Gesund turns his grin, as if this is some old chestnut all men his age must know: the sky is blue, water’s wet, and a bachelor never cooks his own dinner. And maybe it is; Stark wouldn’t know. He could barely remember his mother, honestly.

“As long as a few of you don’t mind pitching in a hand or two over the harvest, I’m sure it’ll all come out even,” Gesund assures them, the deep rumble of his laugh rolling over them like distant thunder.

“We have Stark,” Fern offers, catching him by the back of his coat. “He likes to lift heavy things.”

“What?” he squawks. “Why am I the only one getting volunteered?”

“You still have things growing?” Sein aims his furrowed brow down the road, as if he might be able to see them from here if he just squints hard enough. “We saw snow on our way in.”

“It’s the weather, I tell you,” Gesund laughs, leading them down the packed earth path. “It stays mild enough here that we can grow most of what we need up until the sun fails us. We’ve still got a week or two left before we’ll have to bring everything in.”

Sein’s frown pulls deeper. “One to two weeks…?”

“Come on then,” the headman says, smile bright as sun on snow. “Take a good look at where you’ll be staying. I’m sure we can work something out.”

*

It’s a nice little cottage, Fern has to admit; one made with quite a bit of thought and care. Even with a pace around the common room, she can’t find a single hint of a draft, nor one bit of the ceiling that might leak. The bedrooms seem fine too; just two— though there’s plenty of space for more, Master Gesund had said, quite pointed, should my boy see fit to fill them up— with windows sealed up tight. Glass, too— a luxury, all the way out here. It seems the headman does well for himself when he does make it down to the Empire’s markets.

“Can you imagine that?” Fern settles in front of the fire Sein helped her start, right before Gesund herded him and and Frieren right back out the door. To look at fields or some such. Adult things, she assumes, since the two of them have been left behind. “Having a house like this, and his son’s not even twenty.”

“I think what gets me is that he keeps talking like that kid should be married,” Stark sighs, heaving off his boots. They clatter beside the door, mud spattering over the towel Frieren left for them. “He’s even younger than us!”

Not even old enough to grow a beard, according to those bare cheeks of his. Or at least, not one worthy of the name. This far north, the length of the hair of your chin marked you as a man, and for someone to shave it off, well— it would have to be truly terrible. Fern had only seen the boy for a moment, eclipsed by the shadow of his father, but she can imagine it— piebald patches of red sprouting from under his chin, a wispy mustache. Nothing that would do his boyish face any favors.

“That’s how it is in places like this, I think.” She spreads her toes on the hearth, watching the wool of her stockings stretch between them “You get married young and start having kids to help out. More hands make quicker work, they say.”

“I guess so.” Stark shucks his coat at the door too, letting it slump to the floor like he’s some child fresh from playing in the snow. She’d scold him— honestly, they all have to live in this cottage together, he can’t just leave things places— but he pads over to her, the clinging fabric of his shirt stretching across his shoulders as he sits. “That’s kind of how it was in my village too. Well, as far as I can remember.”

He lays down— sprawls, really, like he doesn’t know how to keep his limbs all in one place without his coat to remind him they’re there. Another thing she could nip at, if she chose— he’s a buffet of problems, each one more meaty than the last— but Fern only tucks her chin between her knees, keeping an eye on where his toes curl, far too close to the flames. It’ll be his fault if he lets his stockings singe.

“They’d been talking about getting my brother married to some girl, you know?” She doesn’t, of course— how could she?— but she keeps her mouth shut, letting him settle into the warm stones. “At least, they were, before…”

Before. He lets the word hang, a warning and a wish all at once. “Was he very old?”

“Not really.” Stark shrugs, more hands than shoulders. “He was older than me though, by a lot. Maybe…fifteen? I don’t know.”

Her eyes jump to his, surprised. “Young.”

“I guess when you fight demons for a living, every day counts. Or I don’t know, something like that.” His head turns, gaze falling on her with bald curiosity. That’s how he always is, wearing his every thought on his sleeve, too much. “How about you? You’re from the south, right? Was it the same?”

“I…I don’t remember,” she mumbles into her knees. Even her memories of her mother and father are patchwork, a composite of a handful of half-formed moments and none of them clear. What her village had been like— her home, her life— might as well be a mystery. Or it would be, if she cared about remembering it. “I think Master Heiter would have been happy if I never married.”

It must have crossed his mind once, even as young as she was. That’s what little girls did, didn’t they? Grow up and become women who got married, became mothers. And yet he’d never said a word of it. Only encouraged her magic practice, luring her out a teacher with his advanced age and utter shamelessness in taking advantage of it. If it was a father’s job to plan for his daughter’s future, Master Heiter must not have seen one where a man would willingly take on a girl as sullen as her, as unnervingly silent.

“Yeah, I don’t think Master Eisen thought much about it either.” He shakes his head, grin clinging to the corners of his mouth. “Makes sense, I guess.”

Fern casts him a long look. “You think so?”

“Well, I mean, none of them ever got married, did they?” he asks, wide eyes finding hers. “Master Heiter was a priest, right? So that makes sense. But Master Eisen never did either. Or Himmel the Hero. And Frieren, well…”

Pigs might fly before she figures out how something as complicated as love works. Humans already had in the time it took her to figure out friendship. “So you’re saying we were doomed from the start?”

“What? No! That’s not it at all. It’s just…” Stark trails off, distracted. Just looks at the ceiling like if he stares long enough, he might see what fate’s carved for him in the stars. Or at least whether the thatch is leaking. “It’s kind weird to think that if I stayed…I mean, if everyone lived, and my father didn’t toss me out for being a complete disappointment”—Fern valiantly does not remind him of the fifty foot chasm he procrastinated into a cliff side— “that kid might be me right now.”

She lifts her eyebrows. “Not finding anyone you like?”

“No, no. I mean the getting married part.” Skin above his nose wrinkles, knotted up with thoughts, and he mutters, softer, “Well, maybe that too.”

Fern spares him an irritated glare. They’re sitting here, her hip practically touching his shoulder, only the fabric of her skirt and his shirt between them, and yet—

“What? Because it’s impossible that you could ever find anyone you’d like?”

“Yeah, I guess. Out there…” His eyes widen, and he rolls toward her, rising up on his elbow. “No, wait, that’s not, um…I mean, I wouldn’t—”

Fern sweeps up to her feet, an itch scratching just under her skin where she can’t possibly reach. She’s heard quite enough. “You’re so stupid, sometimes, Stark.”

*

“Look at them. We leave them alone for a few minutes and already they’re not talking.” Sein huffs, breath steaming up from his mouth in a dragon’s lazy curls. He’d probably cross his arms for good measure, too, if they weren’t already walking at a brisk pace, trying to eat up the acres between Gesund’s house and his son’s. “They’re like children— siblings! Turn our backs and they’ve already started picking at each other.”

Fern marches along ahead of them, chin lifted high enough to make Frieren’s neck ache with sympathy, every line of her sharp, officious. All business, Kanne might have said with a laugh— that’s how they talked in the cities now, she’s found. Quick phrases that might have been kennings, were they born a few centuries earlier. She likes it, she thinks. It’s…nostalgic.

Stark, on the other hand, drags miserably behind. He might well be some sort of revenant for how he trudges along, arms limp and head bowed, groaning about how unfair it is to be ignored like this. Frieren hums, muffling her smile in her scarf. “I don’t think that’s the problem here.”

“What? Well, of course not!” Sein snaps, whisper pitched low enough to be kept between them. “Obviously the problem is that they both want to” —he gestures, though it looks more like an explosion, in her opinion, than any suggestion of sexual congress— “but just won’t, for some reason. I thought it might resolve itself in time, but honestly, I think it’s only gotten worse since I was gone.”

Frieren shrugs, just a twitch of her shoulders. It’s hardly her fault— she already told him she wasn’t an expert. “They have been better, mostly. But the winters…”

“Oh, of course. Everything’s fine and dandy when we’re traveling along, just palling around, but they start thinking about being cooped up together— about huddling for warmth, or sharing blankets, or what have you— and now they have to cause problems about it.” Sein tosses back his head and heaves a sigh so weary it settles in her own bones. “Don’t they know they can just have sex? They’re not children.”

If there was ever a time to lift one brow, it would be now. But Frieren never learned, and so she raises both, fixing him with her mildest expression. “Is that something a priest should recommend?”

He presses a hand to his chest, paper-pale in the autumnal chill. “My foremost concern is keeping the goddess’s peace. And she knows full well we won’t be getting any of that until they figure themselves out.”

Frieren settles herself deeper into her scarf and tucks into his side. “They will in their own time.”

“Well, it better be in time to behave at dinner,” he says, louder as they approach the door. “Otherwise I might have to take things into my own hands.”

He spares the both of them a warning look as he knocks at the door, stern as any father— or at least, so she assumes. Frieren doesn’t remember much of hers, and what she does is…distant. A soft presence, if at times disinterested. Like, after all, repels like.

Fern sniffs, turning her chin away from Stark’s desperate, “But—!”

But whatever case he means to make for himself is cut short, the door swinging open, to reveal—

Not Gesund. Not even an adult. Sein drops his gaze and his knees, crouching to meet the rounded eyes that peep around the door’s edge.

“Hello there.” It’s a charming smile he cants the young girl’s way, the kind that says, I mean no harm at the same time it says, but I’m no stranger to trouble. The way Heiter used to— only without the last part. Both priests may have their vices— had their vices— but Heiter’s had always been alcohol, and Sein’s was…everything else. “My name is Sein. I believe your father invited us to dinner?”

Her eyes widen further, white all the way around, and with a gasp, she slams the door in his face.

“Well,” he mutters, rubbing at his nose. “That’s not quite what I expected.”

“I can’t blame her,” Frieren says mildly. “I think I’d do the same thing if you smiled at me like that.”

Her grin must be peeking out over her scarf, since Sein scowls at her as he stands. “There truly is no accounting for taste.”

*

“You’ll have to forgive her.” A smile tugs at the headman’s mouth when he has them seated all around his table, aimed fondly at where his daughter sits, trying to disappear into the bench. “Scheu isn’t much used to strangers. We don’t get many people who travel up this way.”

“And even fewer who stay on long enough to be seen,” his wife adds, a smiling woman who calls herself Froh. They’re all no better than strangers at this point, but when she shakes the bread basket in his direction, urging him to take another roll before it travels around the table, Stark finds himself liking her already. “You’re the first guests we’ve had for a good while.”

Scheu might be shy, hiding behind her hair now that there’s no door to do the job, but the rest of her siblings are loud, squabbling over everything from the best cuts of mutton down to the last bread in the basket. There’s five of them by his count, starting with the kid they met earlier— a younger, ganglier, beardless copy of his dad— and ending with the skittish Scheu; well-behaved bookends for what seems to be a rowdy crew.

It’s…a lot, he’s got to admit. He’d never thought of himself as a quiet kid— not when his father spent most of their dinner reminding him he had to stay seated if he wanted to eat the meal, and Master Eisen learned to distill all that scolding down into a single, disappointed yet devastating glance— but Stark watches one of the girls grab a fork straight out her brother’s hands and eat off it, and well…

Maybe he’s a little more well behaved than he thought. And if he is overwhelmed, then—

Fern’s stiff beside him, plate half-empty and hands knitted neatly in her lap. The picture of poise, the poster child for manners, but— her eyes are all wide, darting between every dish, unable to get a word in edgewise and too polite to just grab. He nudges her— just the littlest bit, one knee knocking gently into hers— and smiles. Maybe if he can help her, she’ll—

“Excuse me,” she says, the steel in her voice hiding its quiver. “Do you mind passing the turnips?”

The kid across from her— a boy, part of what looks to be a matching set— stops bickering with his sister long enough to stare. She nods, encouraging, and he pushes over the dish, jaw slack the whole time. Fern dollops a pointed spoonful right next to her greens before passing it back.

“Hey,” he murmurs, ducking his head down to his shoulder so she might hear. “Good—”

She wrenches her head away with a sniff and asks, pointed, “Master Sein, do you think you could pass me the beef?”

Ah. Stark slumps. So he’s still not forgiven. For…well, whatever he said.

“Gesund says you’ll be here for the harvest,” Froh says, looking him over with an appraising— and approving— eye. “Good for us, I say. We’ll have plenty to bring in.”

Stark swallows down his dinner and shoves a smile on his face. “G-great. I, er, love picking stuff up and putting it down. A bunch.” At least it’ll give him something to do besides wonder just how he screwed up this time. “Is there, uh, someone I’m supposed to talk to…?”

“Well, usually that’d be me, but this year Rustig’s running it. My eldest here.” Gesund elbows the boy, who only startles under his attention. “The one whose house you’re staying in. May be young, but he’s got a lot of experience under that belt of his. He’ll be well-established when the day comes to take a wife, won’t he?”

Stark glances at the kid—still withering the longer his father goes on— and tries a real confident, “Sure.”

“You’re giving him every opportunity to grow,” Sein slides in smoothly, wearing his most benign smile; the one that doesn’t look like a smirk or a grin at all, but just…priestly. “I’m sure he’ll be a real catch for whatever young lady has the pleasure of drawing his eye.”

It’s impossible to say if his father ever puffed with pride over his brother the way Gesund does over his son; Stoltz was younger, his natural talent expected rather than discovered, another illustrious warrior-to-be in their family’s long line of demon killers. If there were marriage talks, there must have been some frank discussion of what Stoltz would bring to the table— other than an eventual mangled corpse— but Stark can’t picture it. Not his stoic father, boasting about his son, his prowess, the home he could give them provided he lived long enough to make it to the altar.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you say it, Master Sein,” Gesund laughs, pounding his boy on the back. “He’ll make a fine husband one day, I can tell. Now Miss Fern”—the headman swivels his great head toward where she sits, interest quivering like an arrow— “Mistress Frieren tells me you’re a first class mage. Even worked in the Empire!”

“Yes.” She sets her utensils gently aside, hands folding over her lap, every inch a proper young lady. All those lessons at Vorig must of have paid off, at least in Stark’s opinion.  “For a short time.”

Gesund nods, impressed. The way anyone would be, faced with a girl like Fern. “Always like hearing about young ladies with an occupation. Getting some experience out in the world.” He clears his throat, stroking a hand over the burly bush of his beard, “You thinking of settling down in the Empire, when all’s said and done, or would you be open to somewhere a little more out of the way?”

Fern coughs. “Excuse me?”

“Well, you’re young yet,” Gesund says, working his way around to some point, Stark’s sure, even if he can’t figure out just what. “But in a few years—”

“That’s a fine statue you have outside of town,” Sein breaks in with a strained smile. “We noticed it on the way in. Just about knocked me out of my boots to see such a good depiction of Himmel the Hero all the way out in these parts! You must have had quite an artist here, and only a few generations ago.”

“Oh, well, it’s only to be expected, isn’t it? The hero did our town a great service.” Gesund draws himself up, proud. “Not just killing the demon king either. Oh no, we had a bit of our own problem, the kind that takes more than just a few good men to go hike out and solve.”

Sein’s shoulders don’t quite sag, but they do drop; a small ceding of ground to relief. “Is that so? We hadn’t heard.”

“Near around eighty years ago, some boy got stolen off by some monster that lived right out of town.” The headman juts his chin toward where Frieren sits, smiling. “Just our luck that the Hero’s Party showed up only a few days earlier and hadn’t yet moved on. The Hero went off in search of him one evening, and came back the next morning with child in tow, none the worse for wear.”

Stark glances at her, waiting for Frieren to get that faint smile she always does whenever someone mentions Himmel’s name, but instead—

Instead, she seems…concerned. “Did he?”

“So you recognized Frieren, did you?” Sein lets his mouth hook into its most compelling smirk. “I wasn’t sure if you had, but your offer to stay for the winter was so generous…”

“Recognize is a bit strong,” Gesund laughs, waving a humble hand. “I wasn’t around then, that’s for sure, and can’t say I’d have picked her out of a crowd. But when an elf comes wandering this far north, knowing all about the road through the mountains, well…I may not be a scholar, but I can string a few lines together.”

“You might have said something,” Fern says, not sharp but conversational. “Most people do, when Mistress Frieren comes through. If they know her, that is.”

“Ah, well, sure, but it was years ago now.” It’s strange to see a man so tall, so broad turn bashful, but the tips of his ears go as red as his beard. “I thought it might be too long to remember. It was just some boy, and the hero went off by himself—”

“That’s not how Paw tells it.”

It’s strange how sometimes all it takes is a soft, little voice to break right through the noise. Scheu sits on her bench, every inch of her quivering from the effort of speaking up, brow knotted up right above her button nose. “He always told me that it was���”

For a big man, Gesund’s gentle as he says, “That’s how it went.”

“But—”

“Scheu.” Froh glances at her husband, uneasy, before turning back to her daughter. “Looks like Paw forgot to come down to dinner again. Do you think he might be gettin’ hungry around now?”

The girl frowns. “I guess so.”

“Why don’t you go bring him somethin’?” Froh grabs a plate, loading it up with meat and turnip. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”

Scheu doesn’t seem even half-convinced, but her small hands stretch out dutifully, taking the trencher between them. That’s the thing about being that young— it doesn’t matter what you know or what you think, you just have to do it because someone said so.

“It was your father that Himmel saved that day?” Sein asks, once the girl’s tromped out of the room, her tiny feet thundering up the steps to the second floor. “The one that was stolen by the monster?”

“Grandfather,” Gesund sighs, the force of it rattling his lips. “So as you see, Mistress Frieren, we owe you quite a debt. None of us would be here if you all hadn’t come into town when you did. Well, except my Froh here.”

He makes to pinch her cheek, but it seems the headman’s wife is practiced at fending off his affection, waving him away with a laugh and a flush of her cheeks. Sein, however, isn’t as easily put off.

“Your grandfather is still with us?” He sets down his spoon, eyes wide. “He’d have to be well over eighty years old.”

Gesund shrugged, his enthusiasm banked. “Nineties, the last time anyone bothered to count.”

Sein lets out a jaunty laugh, the way men do when they’ve been telling stories over emptied mugs. “Then he must be as hale and hardy as you are!”

“In body, yes.” Gesund grimaces. “In mind…he wanders. And sometimes that means the rest of him goes along with it.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Sein's not often priestly, but right now he practically shines with sincerity. “It’s hard when that happens.”

“That it is, that is it.” Gesund shook his great head. “The man practically raised me after my parents died. Sometimes now, it feels like I’m raising him.”

“I’d like to talk to him,” Frieren says suddenly, as welcome as a draft blowing through a window pane. “If you don’t mind.”

“It’s not his best time,” Froh’s quick to offer, darting off a concerned glance toward her husband. “In the summers he can be quick as a whip, but once autumn rolls around, and we start losing the daylight…”

Frieren cocks her head, considering. “Well, we are staying until spring.”

“That you are,” Gesund says with a sincere, if stiff smile. “I suppose there’s time.

*

In the end, she doesn’t have to wait long at all. Funny how things work out like that sometimes.

Well, not for the sheep, really. But as Eisen used to say: sometimes you had to break a few bones to make a good hamburger steak.

Just, er, with sheep this time.

[eris-snow]

𝐖𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞

Tags: bakugou x gn!reader, angst, death

There are three two things you need to know about Katsuki Bakugou: 1. He loves winning. 2. He hates losing.

3. He has you, the most incredible person he never wants to lose.

Bakugou hates losing.

He simply despised the feeling of helplessness, of not being the best. It makes him feel strangely vulnerable inside. It's one that lingers at the back of his mind like a taunting ghost, threatening him.

Bakugou loves to win.

It's that certain thrill that runs down his spine. The cheers from everyone around him, his family or friends or other extras gasping in awe at his utter brilliance and sheer, raw talents.

Yeah, he liked this feeling. He was going to keep it.

But nothing could prepare him for the sheer joy, contentment and fulfilment when Bakugou won you.

He didn't like you at first. He only noticed you when you stole the top marks for a test, even besting Yaoyorozu. It was a huge wake-up call.

Oi, don't mess with me, he remembered thinking, it's probably just a fluke.

And among that pissed-off feeling of not being the best...

blossoms a curiosity that festers and gnaws at his thoughts.

Someone's better than him? You?

He doesn't believe it. Next thing he knows, you steal his marks and battle your way to his precious first place in the practical fights.

What?

Now that has to be a fluke. No way someone like you could best him in a fight! He won't fucking allow it!

He's defeated again, due to the power of teamwork and the lack of communication on his end with his teammates.

He's so caught up with his attention on you, all the anger but respect that builds each day as he observes just how amazing you are under those modest glasses and bright, shy smile.

Fuck, you'd look great with or without glasses, he remembers thinking absentmindedly while watching you study furiously with the flames of determination in your eyes.

When he gets paired up with you, he starts talking to you more. He pushes you and you pull him higher up, draw him to you like a fucking magnet with the attraction dialled to the max.

You stole the top marks in academics, you stole his position in the practical fights at midterms, and before he knows it...

...you steal his heart.

You sly, gorgeous, oblivious, heart-rollercostering asshole.

It took a while before Bakugou finally won you over. With sneaky bentos and his own stumbling actions of care, he wins you over. Those 3 years were the best ones in his entire life. You were his greatest victory. Those sweet smiles and genuine words of care that spew from your lips were all he could ever need in his life. Those times you'd kiss him right before he left.

The "see you later" kisses and the "welcome home" ones.

He couldn't ask for more.

If he still had you.

He wants to grab the universe's clock and rewind those wrenched, fucking hands because no, no this can't be how he spends the rest of his life. He can't imagine it without you by his side.

It's plastered all over the news.

"Hero/n saved thousands!"

"Hero/n died like a true hero! Will forever be remembered!"

"Crowd mourns for Hero/n's death-"

Bakugou punches the power off button on his TV remote.

This can't be it. This can't be your end. Knowing you, you'd pop out of his closet like a heart-attacking jack in the box and laugh at him for taking this too seriously. You will.

You have to.

Bakugou feels tears threaten to spill from his eyes for the billionth time, and wipes them away hastily as he shoots a glance at your urn. A picture of you, just you, sits in front of it, stone cold.

All this talk about Hero/n makes Bakugou want to pulp the paparazzi.

What about his Y/n? The one that would greet him whenever he came home? The one that had terribly cute bed hair, awful morning breath, and wore those stupid, fluffy socks during winter? His girlfriend was gone.

Bakugou feels droplets of water fall from his face. Tears.

Again.

"You just had to outdo me," He rasps softly under his breath. You're the only person who could break him like this. "Goin' off with a bang like that, huh?" He's met with icy silence.

You were his greatest win, the person that made him feel whole, the person he loved unconditionally with every fibre in his entire being.

But he never thought he would lose you.

[theladyregret]

Drow Name Tables

Something I did as a special favor to @kimmurielsscryingmirror (@eldritchmist ) who showed interest. Because it’s...pretty big I decided to make it into it’s own post.

These are a few Drow naming tables that were originally found in an issue of Dragon Magazine. It’s two d100 tables of prefixes and suffixes commonly used in first names. The second couple of tables is a list of common house name prefixes and suffixes.

EDIT: Just a little something for those who care which I didn’t add before because it took me so long to finish the transcription I just wanted to post it lol. The gender difference is noted in the related Dragon Magazine article as being significant. Non Drow may not notice but a Drow will notice the difference. Female names sometimes borrow parts that are normally only considered male and this is considered fine...but a male with a name that borrows a typically only female part would be seen as extremely taboo.

Prefix (Female/Male) - Meaning

Akor/Alak                 beloved, best, first

Alaun/Alton             lightning, powerful

Aly/Kel                     legendary, singing, song

Ang/Adin                  beast, monstrous, savage

Ardul/Amal               blessed, divine, godly

Aun/Ant                   crypt, dead, deadly, death

Bae/Bar                      fate, fated, luck, lucky

Bal/Bel                       burned, burning, fire, flame

Belar/Bruh                 arrow, lance, piercing

Briz/Berg                    graceful, fluid, like water

Bur/Bhin                     craft, crafty, sly

Chal/Chasz                earth, stable

Char/Kron                  sick, venom, venomed

Chess/Cal                  noble, lady/lord

Dhaun                          infested, plague

Dil/Dur                         cold, ice, still

Dirz/Div                       dream, dreaming, fantasy

Dris/Riz                        ash, dawn, east, eastern

Eclav/Elk                      chaos, mad, madness

Elvan/Kalan                 elf, elven, far, lost

Elv/Elaug                     drow, mage, power

Erel/Rhyl                      eye, moon, spy

Ethe/Erth                    mithril, resolute

Faer/Selds                   oath, sworn, vow

Felyn/Fil                       pale, thin, weak, white

Filf/Phar                     dwarf, dwarven, treacherous

Gauss/Orgoll              dread, fear, feared, vile

G'eld                              friend, spider  

Ghuan                           accursed, curse, unlucky

Gin/Din                         berserk, berserker, orc, wild

Grey/Gul                       ghost, pale, unliving

Hael/Hatch                   marked, trail, way

Hal/Sol                           deft, nimble, spider-like  

Houn/Rik                       magic, ring, staff

Iiv/Dip                             liege, war, warrior

Iim                                   life, living, spirit, soul

Illiam/Im                         devoted, heart, love

In/Sorn                           enchanted, spell

Ilph                                  emerald, green, lush, tree

Irae/Ilzt                           arcane, mystic, wizard

Irr/Izz                               hidden, mask, masked

Iym/Ist                            endless, immortal  

Jan/Duag                       shield, warded

Jhael/Gel                       ambitious, clan, kin, family

Jhul/Jar                         charmed, rune, symbol

Jys/Driz                         hard, steel, unyielding

Lael/Llt                           iron, west, western

Lar/Les                          binding, bound, law, lawful

LiNeer/Mourn            legend, legendary, mythical  

Lird/Ryld                   brand, branded, owned, slave

Lua/Lyme                       bright, crystal, light

Mal/Malag                     mystery, secret

May/Mas                         beautiful, beauty, silver

Micar                                lost, poison, widow

Min/Ran                           lesser, minor, second

Mol/Go                            blue, storm, thunder, wind

Myr/Nym                       lost, skeleton, skull

Nath/Mer                        doom, doomed, fate

Ned/Nad               cunning, genius, mind, thought

Nhil/Nal                 fear, gorrible, horror, outraged

Neer                                  core, root, strong

Null/Nil                             sad, tear, weeping

Olor/Omar                       skin, tattoo, tattooed

Pellan/Relon                    north, platiunum, wind

Phaer/Vorn                      honor, honored

Phyr/Phyx                        bless, blessed, blessing

Qualn/Quil                        mighty, ocean, sea

Quar                                   aged, eternal, time

Quav/Quev                        charmed, docile, friend

Qil/Quil                               foe, goblin, slave

Rauv/Welv                         cave, rock, stone

Ril/Ryl                                 foretold, omen

Sbat/Szor                           amber, yellow

Sab/Tsab                            abyss, empty, void  

Shi'n/Kren                          fool, foolish, young

Shri/Ssz                             silk, silent  

Shur/Shar                          dagger, edge, stiletto

Shynt                                 invisible, skilled, unseen

Sin/Szin                              festival, joy, pleasure

Ssap/Tath                          blue, midnight, night

Susp/Spir                           learned, skilled, wise

Talab/Tluth                        burn, burning, fire

Tal/Tar                         love, pain, wound, wounded

Triel/Taz                           bat, winged

T'riss/Teb                           blade, sharp, sword  

Ulvir/Uhls                           gold, golden, treasure

Umrae/Hurz                       faith, faithful, true

Vas/Vesz                            blood, bloody, flesh

Vic                                       abyss, deep, profound

Vier/Val                               black, dark, darkness

Vlon/Wod                           bold, hero, heroic

Waer/Wehl             deep, hidden, south, southern  

Wuyon/Wruz                      humble, third, trivial

Xull/Url                                 blooded, crimson, ruby

Xun                                       demon, fiend, fiendish

Yas/Yaz                       riddle, spinning, thread, web

Zar/Zakn                             dusk, haunted, shadow

Zebey/Zek                        dragon, lithe, rage, wyrm

Zes/Zsz                              ancient, elder, respected

Zilv/Vuz                             forgotten, old, unknown

Suffixes (Female/Male) - Meaning

a/agh                  breaker, destruction, end, omega

ace/as                                savant, scholar, wizard

ae/aun                             dance, dancer, life, player

aer/d                                    blood, blood of, heir

afae/afein                         bane, executioner, slayer

afay/aufein                        eyes, eyes of, seer

ala/launim                          healer, cleric

anna/erin                            advisor, counselor to

arra/atar                             queen/prince

aste                                      bearer, keeper, slaver

avin/aonar                           guardian, guard, shield

ayne/al                       lunatic, maniac, manic, rage

baste/gloth                         path, walker

breena/antar                   matriach/patriarch, ruler

bryn/lyn                               agent, assassin, killer

cice/roos                             born of, child, young  

cyrl/axle                               ally, companion, friend

da/daer                                illusionist, trickster

dia/drin                                rogue, stealer

diira/diirn                             initiate, sister/brother

dra/zar                                  lover, match, mate  

driira/driirn                         mother/father, teacher  

dril/dorl                                 knight, sword, warrior

e                                           servant, slave, vessel

eari/erd                                 giver, god, patron

eyl                                       archer, arrow, flight, flyer

ffyn/fein                               minstrel, singer, song

fryn              champion, victor, weapon, weapon of

iara/ica                                 baron, duke, lady/lord  

ice/eth                                 obsession, taker, taken  

idil/imar           alpha, beginning, creator of, maker

iira/inid                                 harbinger, herald

inidia                                     secret, wall, warder

inil/in                                     lady/lord, rider, steed

intra                               envoy, messenger, prophet

isstra/atlab               acolyte, apprentice, student

ithra/irahc                         dragon, serpent, wyrm

jra/gos                                 beast, biter, stinger

jss                                          scout, stalker

kacha/kah                            beauty, hair, style

kiira/raen                              apostle, disciple

lay/dyn                               flight, flyer, wing, wings

lara/aghar                         cynic, death, end, victim

lin                                         arm, armor, commander

lochar                                   messenger, spider

mice/myr           bone, bones, necromancer, witch  

mur'ss                                   shadow, spy, witness

na/nar                                 adept, ghost, spirit

nilee/olil                             corpse, disease, ravager

niss/nozz                           chance, gambler, game

nitra/net                              kicker, returned, risen

nolu                                 art, artist, expert, treasure

olin                                   ascension, love, lover, lust

onia/onim                           rod, staff, token, wand

oyss/omph                       binder, judge, law, prison

qualyn                                 ally, caller, kin

quarra/net                           horde, host, legion

quiri/oj                                  aura, cloak, hide, skin

ra/or                                     fool, game, prey, quarry

rae/rar                                   secret, seeker, quest

raema/orvir                         crafter, fist, hand

raena/olvir                            center, haven, home

riia/rak                       enchanter, mage, spellcaster

ril                                 bandit, enemy, raider, outlaw

riina/ree                     enchanter, mage, spellcaster

ryna/oyn                         follower, hired, mercenary

ryne/ryn                      blooded, elder, experienced

shalee/ral                 abjurer, gaze, watch, watcher

ssysn/rysn          artifact, dweomer, sorcerer, spell

stin/trin         clan, house, merchant, of the house

stra/tran                             spider, spinner, weaver

tana/ton                           darkness, lurker, prowler

thara/tar                             glyph, marker, rune

thrae/olg                          charmer, leader, seducer

tree/tel                         exile, loner, outcast, pariah

tyrr                    dagger, poison, poisoner, scorpion

ual/dan                                speed, strider

ue/dor                                  arm, artisan, fingers

uit/dar                                  breath, voice, word

une/diin                         diviner, fate, future, oracle

uque                              cavern, digger, mole, tunnel  

urra/dax                       nomad, renegade, wanderer

va/ven                             comrade, honor, honored

vayas                         forge, forger, hammer, smith

vyll punishment, scourge, whip, zealot  

vyrae/vyr                     mistress/master, overseer

wae/hrae                           heir, inheritor, princess

wiira/hriir                           seneschal of, steward

wyss/hrys                          best, creator, starter

xae/zaer                             orb, rank, ruler, sceptor

xena/zen                         cutter, gem, jewel, jeweler

xyra/zyr                             sage, teller

yl                                          drow, woman/man

ylene/yln         handmaiden/squire, maiden/youth

ymma/inyon                      drider, feet, foot, runner

ynda/yrd        captain, custodian, marshal, ranger  

ynrae/yraen                       heretic, rebel, riot, void

vrae                                   architect, founder, mason  

yrr                                         protector, rival, wielder

zyne/zt                                finder, hunter

House Name Prefixes - Meaning

Alean                        the noble line of

Ale                             traders in

Arab                          daughters of

Arken                        mages of

Auvry                        blood of the  

Baen                          blessed by

Barri                           spawn of

Cladd                         warriors from

Desp                          victors of

De                               champions of

Do'                              walkers in

Eils                              lands of

Everh                         the caverns of

Fre                              friends of

Gode                          clan of  

Helvi                          those above

Hla                              seers of

Hun'                           the sisterhood of

Ken                            sworn to

Kil                               people of

Mae                           raiders from  

Mel                            mothers of

My                              honored of

Noqu                         sacred to

Orly                            guild of

Ouss                           heirs to

Rilyn                           house of  

Teken'                        delvers in  

Tor                               mistresses of

Zau                              children of

House Name Suffixes - Meaning

afin                              the web

ana                               the night

ani                                the widow

ar                                   poison

arn                                fire

ate                                the way

ath                                the dragons

duis                              the whip

ervs                              the depths

ep                                  the underdark

ett                                 magic

ghym                            the forgotten ways

iryn                               history

lyl                                  the blade

mtor                             the abyss

ndar                              black hearts

neld                              the arcane

rae                                 fell powers

rahel                             the gods

rret                                the void

sek                                 adamantite

th                                    challenges

tlar                                 mysteries

t'tar                                victory

tyl                                   the pits

und                                 the spider's kiss

urden                             the darkness

val                                   silken weaver

viir                                  dominance

zynge                             the ruins

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part VI

This part is a bit shorter than the others, critical plot ahead though, be warned. Gale POV once again.

Surprise, shorties.

Gale followed silently behind Tav, Shadowheart and Karlach as they began their trek to the Goblin Camp. The group was uncharacteristically quiet, the strain between Tav and Gale palpable and coupled with the anxiety that comes along with any battle. Even those with hearts of steel forged in the fires of courage and might experience the nervousness that creeps through the body and seeps through your bones and into the very marrow of your being. Even heroes understand that life is precious and nothing is guaranteed. 

When Tav explained their mission to them earlier, she spoke directly to Karlach and Shadowheart and tangentially to Gale. Today they were launching their final assault on the camp, leaving no stone turned or rather, no goblin alive. 

“The leaders are dead, there are only a few more on the outskirts of their camp.” Tav pulled out a crudely drawn map and pointed to a spot on it, “This is where we’re headed. There’s normally a scout stationed here,” she dragged her finger along the map, all four of their heads huddled over it. Tav looked up at the sky, the darkness of an impending storm looming above them. “We should move, while the weather’s still on our side.” 

“And what if there are more than we anticipate?” Gale asked, the question was innocuous enough - he wasn’t trying to challenge her, he liked to be prepared. He should have anticipated that she would not see it that way.  

Tav ignored his question and Shadowheart, also a pragmatic, echoed him. “Tav - Gale has a point. Regardless of whatever qualms you have with him, he’s right as much as I hate to admit it.” Shadowheart gave Gale a sly smirk, she was teasing him. “We need to have a plan if things go awry. It would be foolish not to.” 

Tav shot a dirty look at Gale and he shrugged smugly. She rose her eyebrows and pursed her lips, “We’ll be fine. They’re just goblins.” 

Fine with me, he thought, his arms crossed across his chest as he absorbed the task at hand. He heard Shadowheart’s annoyed, but compliant huff and Karlach chuckled, pumping her fists in the air. “Poor fuckers, have no idea what’s about to hit them.” 

** 

As they began their sneaky, eastern decent upon the camp, Gale’s knees creaked and he groaned. “This is no fun at all,” Gale grumbled. He hated sneaking, he hated being crouched like this. It felt ridiculous. There was an entire cliff face between them and the Goblins. Who was going to see them? 

Karlach snickered, whispering, “You alright there, Grandpa? I think they heard that crack all the way in Elturel.”

“Ha-ha,” Gale said mockingly, releasing a puff of air from his nose, “Very funny.” Tav shot Gale a withering look and he rolled his eyes, and then stuck his tongue out at her childishly as she turned around, something that sent Karlach into stitches. 

“I like sassy Gale,” Karlach whispered and Tav once again gave them a look of death, eyes like daggers into the spirit. “Alright, alright message received solider.” She held her hands up defensively and smiled at Tav, hoping to defuse the situation. 

They crept along the cliff-face, launching their assault from the side. Tav would go first, killing the scout, and the rest would follow. Simple, easy she said. Taking down the leaders had apparently been a cake walk which eased Gale’s anxiety a bit. Tav quietly and efficiently killed the scout, gesturing for the rest to move. 

They lined the crumbling wall, prepared to attack. Karlach jumped, succumbing to her rage and threw a spear wildly at one of the Goblins - nothing quite like the element of surprise - and so it began. Gale heard the blood rush through his ears as his heart thumped loudly in his chest. After so many days back at camp, he had forgotten how thrilling being in the thick of battle was. Everything becomes crisp, every sense heightened as he looked in the face of death. 

“Gale, NOW,” Tav yelled, signaling for him to launch his attacks. In one fell swoop, Gale pulled at the Weave, focusing his adrenaline into what he knew best - magic. Tav launched multiple patches of grease that Gale followed, hitting with fireballs that lit the Goblins up and sent their charred bodies writhing into the dirt. 

A low rumbling in the skies portended the weather ahead, the clouds darkening as a maelstrom brewed above them. The rain was hardly a mist at first before it deluged them with water, pouring down as if the Gods themselves sent down a tsunami. Gale’s hair clung to his face and he noticed an ogre headed straight for Tav - she hadn’t said anything about ogres - her back was turned and by the time he locked eyes with her it was too late. 

You know the feeling when you’re dreaming how everything feels ridiculously, painfully slow, that even when you try to shout your voice catches in your throat, when you try to run it feels as if you’re pushing through molasses - the world ground to a halt for Gale and he felt suspended in time, as if it happened in slow motion.

There she was, on top of the crumbling wall, the ogre barreling towards her with a spiked club in hand. “TAV!” Gale tried to yell, but the sound of the torrential rain and thunder drowned out his voice.

He watched as the club made contact. A THWAP reverberated across the camp and her body spun as if she were a rag doll. She fell from the wall, the sound of cracking bone and cartilage assaulting his ears. “NO!” Gale cried out, his movements inhumanly quick as he throttled the Goblins before him, killing them in one volatile flick of the Weave and rushed over to her, falling to his knees. “Tav, TAV,” he brushed the soaking hair from her face looking battered and bruised, her lips blue. His hair plastered to his face from the rain, heavy drops rolling into his mouth as he shielded her. 

Time stopped. His heart felt ripped from his chest as he struggled to find a pulse. “SHADOWHEART, SHE’S NOT BREATHING. COME, QUICK, PLEASE,” He shouted to her from across the encampment as he held Tav in his lap, the evident swelling of broken bones and internal bleeding consumed Tav. He was shaking violently, holding her against him. Karlach was in a frenzy to hold the rest of the Goblins back and took down the ogre as Shadowheart sprinted to them. 

Shadowheart dropped to her knees, closing her eyes and hovered her hands over Tav, casting cure wounds but it wasn’t working. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she was frantic, trying other spells yet Tav’s wounds remained, her body deadly still. “I can’t… I can’t find a pulse, Gale. I don’t.. this is beyond my abilities…” Shadowheart’s voice was barely a murmur, drowned out by rain and thunder. 

“You must,” he hissed, still holding Tav in his arms as the rain poured in his eyes and soaked his robes, Tav’s blood mixing into the fabric. “You’re a cleric, aren’t you? What isn’t working? Why isn’t it working?” 

“I don’t know!” She snapped, throwing a potion of healing to Karlach that she chugged as she single-handedly finished the goblins who remained. 

“You can’t be…” Gale gasped, his entire body quaking with a harsh sob. “No..no.. there must be a way...” His words caught in his throat, his entire body feeling as if it might disintegrate as he wept and held her against him. 

Karlach came bounding over and placed a hand on Gale’s shoulder. “We have to go. Now. I have an idea,” She scooped Tav in her arms as if she were light as a child, her fires doused by the rain, and Gale and Shadowheart followed dashing back to camp with as much haste as their feet could manage.  

[foxedthecards]

🍁 +

Mr Fox, why have you chosen Jonas’ body to inhabit (if you had a choice in the matter at all.) and why?

Oh now there's a VERY interesting question...

Mr Fox folds his arms and leans back, gazing at Master Grey. A smile crosses his face. It's about as neutral a smile as you can get.

"*Haven't the foggiest idea,*" he says in an even tone of voice. "*Strange thing that. First of all someone such as myself could have done better in that department. He is really quite the soppy little dishrag of a fellow, isn't he...*"

There's something uncanny about that smile when Mr Fox leans forward and when his black gloved hands touch the side of his face lightly it becomes apparent: it is a mask. His hands perform a flourish and now the mask is a grotesque caricature of pity, a single painted tear in the corner of the eye and lips pursed in exaggerated concern.

"*But poor dear little thing perhaps I felt sorry for him! Ah, but look at him, frightened, dejected and so very alone, a little rabbit paralyzed with terror!*" he croons, clasping his hands together. He pretends to wipe away a tear and in another flourish, the mask has changed yet again into the comically manly visage of a hero, golden locks curling around a stretched grimace calling itself a confident smile. "*My word...could I in fact be the hero to step in and save the day?*"

He made a gagging noise, flipping the mask and revealing a disdainful sneer, narrowed eyes, a curling mustache. "*Hardly. Perhaps he was merely a stepping stone, a patsy, a dimwitted chump in the wrong place at the wrong time. A weak-willed means, overpowered and dominated for my own nefarious ends! "

He ran his fingers across the mustache, giving the ends a dainty little twirl and then pulled, splitting the mask in two pieces as he stood up. Underneath that was revealed a Venetian style half mask in the manner of a black fox.

"*Or perhaps not even that. Perhaps I am in fact simply...an irredeemably wicked creature. A sly predator wishing to close my jaws around the neck of this squawking bantam rooster, steal him away, break his bones, open his chest, lick up that delicious red beating life oh but once again...why oh why oh why...*"

The eyes in the mask are open wide, gone completely gold and gold overflows and trickles down the sides of the mask. That smile is all salivating needles, the hands tremble, their nails pointed through the black leather gloves. There's shivering silver noises distorting his speech. Noises like glass breaking. The body starts to struggle, sags, knees buckling against one another, barely standing as that distorted voice rasps out.

"*Perrr...HAps to...bE...In...hU...manNNn...*"

The curtains abruptly sweep closed.

[sitp-recs]

I normally only read in-world fics, but do you have any great Drarry AUs. Either non-magical or no Voldermort or historical, whatever (I'm not crazy about things that mess with the actual content of the books, but might love something super clever.) THANK YOU! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hi anon! We’re actually very similar as in I don’t often venture into AUs so chances are you might enjoy these as well :) let me know!

Full AU:

Veðr by @shealwaysreads (M, 2.7k)

Norsemen have ranged far enough inland to find Harry, alone and abandoned by his kith and kin. But they bring far more than danger with them, they bring adventure, they bring magic.

Mad Blood Stirring by provocative_envy (E, 3.2k)

It's not like they've been angrily hooking up on the sly since meeting at a Juniors skills camp in fucking Manitoba four years ago, except that's exactly what they've been doing.

Big Hands by @fw00shy (E, 4.5k)

Draco Malfoy is a pianist who's just moved to Paris. Harry Potter, his new roommate, has the biggest hands he's ever seen. Draco is immediately obsessed.

Trouble by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (E, 7k)

Now Draco’s cock is stirring, and he can’t breathe because all he can think of is screaming Harry’s name while Harry pins him down and mindlessly fucks him into total incoherency.

The Virtues of Hygiene and the Binary of Labour by @piarelei (E, 14k)

Draco does what he always does every autumn; packs his bag and follows a path back home. This time, Potter just happens to travel the same roads.

Give Me a Quiet Mind by calrissian18 (T, 16k)

Draco is Weasley’s assistant. Except for the week he’s not. Whose brilliant idea was that again?

Black Coffee on a Lonely Night by Femme (M, 21k)

Draco owns a café in the city. Harry's a MP who comes in every morning, newspapers in one hand, BlackBerry in the other, and orders a triple espresso macchiato.

Rush (For A Gap That Exists) by @sleepstxtic-drarry (M, 42k)

A story of love and loss that grew amidst the most infamous rivalry in Formula One history: the story of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.

In the Bleak Midwinter by @the-fools-errand (E, 105k)

After serving in the border wars for the ever-expanding dominion of Lord Voldemort, Draco and his cousins have returned to Hogsmeade to resurrect the old Black Family name in crime. But when a shipment of wands bound for the front lines falls into their possession, they find themselves at the centre of an investigation backed by the Dark Lord himself.

Nightcall by Femme and noeon (E, 116k)

A hideously mauled corpse is found sprawled across the paving stones of Brick Lane in the East End of London. Inspector Harry Potter--widely believed to be the lead candidate for next Deputy Head Auror--is called in to investigate a possible magical crime.

Within the HP Universe:

Intelligence by aideomai (T, 5.8k)

“I don’t believe it,” Ginny said, voice low with venom and fury. “Did you know?” “I knew there was a spy,” Hermione said.

And Save Me From Bloody Men by @blamebrampton (T, 10k)

Draco Malfoy once watched others fighting to stop the world falling apart. This time, he's not just watching.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart (orphaned, NR, 10k)

Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too. Things only become stranger when Harry starts bringing Draco ugly souvenirs back from his work travels.

All the Ashes Like Leaves by firethesound (M, 21k)

Nothing about being the Chosen One had prepared Harry for this. With most of the population blinded and man-eating plants running amok, he can only stay close to his friends as they make their way to safety.

Gossip Boys by mypetelephant (E, 24k)

Confiscated Dark objects have been disappearing from the Ministry, and journalist Harry Potter is on the case. Unfortunately, he has to drag along Draco Malfoy, gossip columnist extraordinaire, whose subject of choice is everyone's favorite desultory hero.

Burn the Curtains and the Wine by @nerdherderette (E, 24k)

There are two versions of Harry Potter: the wizard who is the Ministry of Magic's most dangerous and successful assassin, and the husband who leads a staid life of domesticity with a reformed Death Eater. And never the twain shall meet.

The Good Guys by Frayach (E, 26k)

The Second Voldemort War is limping into its fourth year, and the Forces of Shining Light are slowly turning into the Forces of Expedient Grey. When Draco Malfoy is captured red-handed trying to sell an illegal potion to a clerk at Borgin & Burkes, he is handed over to the Department of Essential and Necessary Truth’s newest interrogator.

The Boy Who Died by @magpiefngrl (E, 27k)

Harry dies in the forest. Sixteen years later, he comes back to life.

Little Red Courgette by @blamebrampton (T, 31k)

When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter.

The Secret Keeper by @the-fools-errand (M, 225k)

On Halloween 1981, Albus Dumbledore made a decision that would change the course of history, concealing Harry Potter’s survival at the hands of Lord Voldemort underneath a Fidelius Charm. But when Harry comes of age in the Muggle world, Dumbledore realises too late that the fate of the world may depend on a boy who has never held a wand.