#something something there's a reason myths were told in song form something something

[sergeantsporks]

I like how I can read a greek myth and I'll be like "Oh, well that was nice" but then someone writes a musical based on the same myth and I can feel it rewriting my cells on a molecular level

[o-sachi]

Sk8er Boi - Drabble (Request)

ᯓ confessions? whuzzat? clearly, neither of you know what that is ᯓ character; shidou ryusei (blue lock) ᯓ tags; mutual pining, angsty?, shidou is a menace, afab reader, no y/n, sfw, based on Avril Lavigne's song Sk8r Boi

[🐟]: Idk what I did with this tbh.

He was a boy She was a girl Can I make it anymore obvious?

Shidou Ryusei. The pink-haired lunatic. The freak.

People knew him by several names and people knew him through several reasons... most of which aren't good. Your friends, your family, everyone who knew that you knew him—would all say the same thing. Don't get yourself involved with that guy.

But you could never ever find it in yourself to not get involved with Shidou Ryusei. You were like a feeble and naive moth prancing around his raging flame. You teetered on the precipice between bravery and downright stupidity. Not that it mattered to you. Truth be told, you thought Shidou Ryusei was a nice guy.

You had your reasons, of course.

He was a punk She did ballet What more can I say?

No, you didn't do ballet. Hell, you can't really dance. But Shidou? He was a full-blown punk—through and through. His personality, the way he dresses, the people he surrounds himself with—there's no denying it. If you extracted his blood and got it tested, it would come back with the results of 70% Monster energy drinks and 30% cigarette butts.

Though he wasn't a low-level punk. In his bad crowd, he was hailed as their king. Perhaps this was a testament to his wickedness. But for you, it made him feel like a legend—a myth untouched that you could only dream of coming close to. There was a word for this... romanticizing? Delusion? Kids these days have a term for everything lately.

It remains a mystery why someone like you would vie for someone like him. Maybe after living such a mundane and "proper" life—you were looking for a bit of thrill in your life. Maybe you just made terrible decisions.

But nothing's bad when it comes to love, right?

He wanted her She'd never tell Secretly she wanted him as well

Rowdy as he is—Shidou loved pretty things. He loved acquiring them—making them his and only his. It just so happens you were one of those pretty things he had the greatest pleasure of laying his eyes on.

And Shidou Ryusei hated two things. One, children when they start infesting the local skate park which he lovingly calls his "second home." And two, when the pretty little thing that he likes is being threatened.

When he saw your face contort in fear being surrounded by a bunch of other punks—that all too familiar itch to go punch something flared up within him. It happened way too fast. Even though your eyes darted from side-to-side, trying to make sense of what was happening—Shidou was simply too quick.

Too quick at jumping into action and too quick to fall in love.

Well, he called it love. But it was more of a deep and carnal infatuation. But never mind that—all he knew was that he wanted you. This was his way of showing you exactly that.

His ego inflated for every second your eyes remained fixated over his triumphant form. He stood above the defeated men who were just threatening you a few minutes ago. Shidou was your savior and it was only right for you to show him your gratitude now.

And like a play, the roles were filled. Others might say you were too eager.

"Thank you... for saving me," you managed to stutter it out. Your hands shook, probably from the surge of adrenaline.

He smirked. It was one of the three facial expressions he had after all. But everything was going according to his plan—a plan that consisted of a mere 2 steps: to save you then to make you his.

Simple, but reaching. Although, for Shidou Ryusei, he believed everything was possible with his own two hands.

He held out his calloused hand for you to take, pulling you up back to your feet. "It was nothing. Just glad I could help a damsel in distress."

"I... I don't know how I can repay you..."

He brought those same calloused hands to your face, heat radiating off of his dirtied palms. His thumbs pressed the corners of your lips, forcibly (but gently) pushing it into a smile—the same smile he fell in love at first sight with.

"That's about right. Just wanna see you smile again."

In that moment you had no words because there wasn't a single string of words that could contain what you felt. Perhaps you two had a thing in common after all—you were both too quick to fall in love.

He was a skater boy She said, "See you later, boy" He wasn't good enough for her

The first people to notice your budding romance was actually Shidou's friends. Quite ironic, by the way, that his friends intimidated you but not Shidou—not the man who was supposedly scarier than all of them combined. But maybe there was an explanation behind it.

The simple fact was that—his friends did not like you.

Sure, you were pretty, sweet, and the kind of girl a guy could take home to his mother. But that was exactly it. You were too good and it was slowly and surely changing their leader.

All of a sudden, Shidou's time was divided between their usual activities and courting you—whether that meant "accidentally" bumping into you at random places and being present whenever you needed some assistance.

"You see, she's a no go. Like c'mon, man. What are you gonna do once her parents find out about you? Think they're gonna open their doors for you? Tough luck, man."

Shidou sat back and hoisted up his feet on the table. "Don't need her parents to like me. If she likes me then that's all that matters."

His friends looked at each other, knowing what everyone else was thinking at the moment. "Well, do you even know if she likes you?"

...

"I'll worry about that when I have to," he shrugs.

That was the end of the discussion. As much as they disliked your presence in their lives, they knew better than to question his fondness for you. Shidou has fought for you before and he's not afraid to do it again... and again... and again—for as long as he had to.

But what if you didn't like him back? What then? Would there even be a fight for him to engage in? There wouldn't.

It's been a while since he felt this way—the feeling that gripped his heart and wrung it dry. The feeling that made him want to slam his fists into a wall until his knuckles were down to the bone.

It was the feeling of fear.

She had a pretty face But her head was up in space She needed to come back down to Earth

You were no better, of course. In many ways, it was like the two of you were made for each other. That is, if we were talking about how both of you became crippled with fear at the thought of rejection.

Fate worked in funny ways and its humor was evident with how your heart desperately chased for the man you couldn't have.

When you were with him, you were on cloud 9. But you never had a chance of staying up there too long. There were people that pulled you down from your fantasy land as soon as they saw the changes in you.

Shidou was careful enough at least to catch you at times when others wouldn't have to see you. But you've been with him too much that he was starting to rub off on you.

And it showed. The people around you knew because you wore your heart on your sleeve.

Then the same words echoed in your mind: Do not get involved with Shidou Ryusei no matter what.

Don't.

Just don't.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[imagines-babes]

I Won’t Say(I’m In Love)

(c!foolish)

Hello again and yesterday is my sister birthday so sorry if this is a little late. Also if you want to read these on my wattpad it’s Called MCYT x Reader. It’s a photo of Wilbur at his concert. But I do hope you enjoy this one. This is about character foolish. The song that inspired this week story is from Hercules, 'I won't say (I'm in love)' by Susan Egan. Hope you enjoy till next week.

Foolish list Masterlist

***********

Meeting him was one reason I fell for him but I wouldn't say that I was in "love" with him.

Taking a walk with Captain Puffy around her new building,the Pokémon center, "so how you y/n? Liking the smp so far." All I did was a nod. Before I could speak I notice a men walking towards us. He was as bright as a totem of undying. I always thought those were myth. But this totem was human form and was mixed with a shark. Captain puffy tried to get my attention as all I did was stare at him. Till I notice he stood beside puffy. "Foolish what a surprise I was just giving my friend here a tour. They are kinda new around here in the smp." Then he looked at me I just stared nit knowing what to say but my guess he was the same way. Only because puffy hit his shoulder cause he was staring at me. "Hey I'm y/n nice to meet you," I pulled out my hand for a shake as him shakes it. "Nice to meet you I'm foolish but Puffy here already told you that right now sorry" me and him laugh lightly as for puffy just glanced at us with a smile.

Then I met his kids. Still I wouldn't say that I was in 'love' with him.

He showed me his summer home after a couple of- well I wouldn't say dates but for now let's say hangouts. He gave me a personal tour said that there were more things that meets the eye. He knew that I would appreciate the art and time he took.  Which I do don't get me wrong. But also don't get me wrong I just asked question just to hear his voice more than mine. Something about the way he talks was soothing and I could sleep to it. When we stood by his pyramid,above the water near his village, he told me how the time a creeper blew up and scared him. Only to hear little laughter behind us. At first I thought i was going crazy till, I turned to see two kids they were young. They hid behind the palm trees as I laugh. "We know you there come out you two." Foolish looked as he went a little closer. The two peaked there head out with a soft smile. Foolish wave his hand to come over to us. They stood on the side of him. "Y/n these are my kids," with a smile on his face, "this is foolish jr," the younger one gave a smile, "and this is Finley." They both looked like foolish. Finley my guess is 4 as for Foolish jr. my guess would be 2. They both hand a shark horror pulling them down with a smile. Both wore the same thing with green eyes as I kneeled holding out my hand. "Hi I'm y/n it's nice to meet you Finley and foolish jr." They looked at foolish seeing if they could trust as he nods hugging me as I fell laughing a little. Foolish just started at us with a smile.

Till now Puffy says I'm in love with her adopted son.

Captain puffy and I were walking along the path to head to the nether portal. "Come on I know you love him all those dates and surprises gifts. Plus he never showed anyone Finley and foolish jr. He must love you." She walk in front of me as I roll my eyes with a smile. Walking in the portal. "Puffy I'm not in love with him. I mean I think he's cute, he's funny, his laughs makes my smile,-" before I could finshes my words i bump into someone. "I'm so sor-" To only see him standing in front of my with a smile , "Foolish what are you doing?" Puffy stood to the side of me asking him. "Oh I just wanted your opinion on my new portal. But who does y/n think is cute huh?" He started to walk closer to me as I took in a breath. "Oh she was talking about-," Puffy started to talk as I quickly covered her mouth. "No one you were just hearing things foolish. But please show me your new portal." With that I pulled foolish to walk to his portal as I glance back at puffy. All she did was smile with thumbs up.

Then he would look at me with his green eyes as I fall deeper in l-. Nope. I'm not in 'love' with him

Today foolish had to work on a new project for a god for godly powers again. While I stayed on the bottom looking after finely and foolish jr. They would tell their adventures with foolish as we went to feed the cows. Going to the hole with wheat as the two sat up top. "Are you in love with my dad?" Finely asked as I stopped glancing at her. "Why? Did puffy asked you to ask me?" They both laughed shaking their head, "no, my dad just always talks about you a lot." That made me blush as I continue to feel the cows get closer to me. "So are you in love with our dad?" It was different when they asked me. I like him but love was a hard word to say. Stepping out of the fence as I glance at the two. "Love is hard for anyone to say even as a young adult for me and a demigod like your father." I tried to reason putting the wheat in a chest. "We aren't hearing a No y/n," with that they ran to the statue. It only took me 40 seconds to see where they were going as I rushed up to them before telling their father about the conversation.

The day was coming to an end as foolish stood on top of the scaffolding taking in his statue. Well I went to go tuck in the two kids giving them a kiss on their forehead with a smile. Finley whispers something as I went back to foolish. As he started to head down to the ground. "How's it going the statue you are doing." He gave a nod, "well the wings are igetting me but other than that I need to get many many blocks.Sorry we couldn't hang out as much I just need to finish this statue." Walking to the portal he walk beside me , "Foolish don't worry about it  you don't have to apologize or explain." We stood in front of the portal with a smile looking at each other. Fixing his hair as the wind blows between us. "Also I will be back tomorrow to help you or stay with Finley and foolish jr so don't worry about them." I started to walk into the portal as foolish started to walk away with a nod. Another day gone of us just not expressing our feeling. I mean I do like him. Puffy says that he is the same way but why get my hopes up. Walking towards the portal in the center I heard my name being called. Turning to see him running towards me. I thought he was going to run into me but his speed was slow long down while he tried to catch his breathe. "Wow foolish someone in a hurry to tell me something," I tried to catch a laugh while foolish. "I am in Love with you y/n." He said within a split second,"look I had to tell you cause if not I would never tell you and loose my chance with you." My face froze with my thoughts were going crazy. If I love him aswell. Or if I just liked him. But I wouldn't want to spend my days with anyone else then with him. I want to be with this demigod. I want to lay by his side. I want to kiss his lips. I want him to be with me.

"I am in love with you Foolish"

[celestial-jade-plum]

It Would be really interesting for Any celestial monkey to be the ultimate big bad.

I would be hesitant to say that MK counts as one of the original 4 CM though. I’d also hesitate to say the other two besides Wukong and Macaque even truly exist.

I’ll split my reasoning and talk about the possible non-existence of Gibbon and Horse-Monkey first. Then I’ll go into MK. Going under the cut because it’s a little long winded and talks about Macaque a lot.

So, about the 4 celestial monkeys. Despite some more modern interpretations showing them as active and present characters, it’s implied in the novel and a couple of older versions of The Monkey Pilgrim’s Tale that the Buddha was Lying about their existence. In JTTW, it’s implied, and flat out almost said, that The Six-Eared Macaque was a part of Wukong that split from him and is his worst impulses and characteristics. Is everything that’s holding him back from enlightenment.

Wukong himself is an allegory for the human mind and him killing The Macaque is a sign of his growth throughout the story. The Macaque is the Only other CM we see. This is the most Widely spread interpretation of the story.

Sun Wukong and the Six-eared Macaque are both, also, the same species. The Rhesus Macaque is most widely seen as the inspiration for the look of Sun Wukong.

Now, in how that relates to LMK. The show creators spent a lot of time studying the myths and inspirations for JTTW before building the show. So I wouldn’t be surprised if they based a good chunk of it on the most common interpretations while still keeping their own version unique. Like the theme song says “Familiar Tales” and all that.

The Macaque we have in the show has some powers we never see associated with the Macaque of the novel which many have attributed to the “deal” Nine mentions in S5. Most notably, his Shadow Magic. Something never connected to Novel Macaque at any point in the story.

Also the Lack of certain powers is also glaring. Lego Macaque can Not hear for miles, or hear Past and Future. He doesn’t even have the Six Ears most visual interpretations give him (even though we have minifigs that have them the LEGO line has actually taken a different turn form the shows storyline), though those aren’t even actual mentioned in JTTW either. He never drops his disguise there. 

Novel Macaque isn’t even actually all that important to the story either and has no prior relationship with Wukong since he couldn’t tell who the doppelgänger was. Thats a big difference from Lego Macaque.

Lego Macaque has a pre-existing friendship with Lego Wukong. A close one too (shipping goggles off) that has a sort of intimacy that could be attributed to them both being desperate for connection. They are the only ones we hear about, the only ones mentioned in the entire show. We don’t even see any Normal monkey demons running around. Its pretty much said in S5 that Macaque and Wukong don’t grow up together and might have only known each other for a little while before they joined up with the Brotherhood.

This tells me that their fight didn’t go all over the 3 realms the way it did in the novel because Wukong already Knew about Macaque and his powers. We even see flashbacks to the fight where it looks like Wukong and Tripitaka were trying to Seal Macaque the way they did LBD rather than them having a drag out fight all over. So that would mean Wukong never went to the Buddha and so was never told about the Celestial Monkeys at all.

Now, obviously Lego Macaque is shown as a completely separate character with his own motivations and such in the show. But he’s kind of obsessed with Wukong. Almost all his motivations revolve around Wukong to an Odd degree. Like I said before, they were kind of attached at the hip before the argument at Five Phases Mountain. That came from both sides back then.

With Wukong, it could have been that he was finally not alone in a crowed so to speak. He ruled a mountain full of monkeys but none that talked like him or walked like him. Macaque was a blessing.

With Macaque, well, his existence seemed to revolve around Wukong even back then. Having his attention and approval. Not seeming to really know how to act around others but following Wukongs lead. Even when he wasn’t sure Wukong was making the right choice. Not really being a Person outside of Wukong.

The argument under the mountain was Macaques first step towards being a person just like how Novel Macaque was attempting to be his own person by taking Wukongs place in the pilgrimage. Both of them were still basing who they are off Wukong though. They Both Failed to find individuality.

In the Novel, the other 2 celestial monkeys are never mentioned again. Like they no longer exist. Wukong never brings them up. Never seems to be looking for them. Thats because the Buddha lied. They don’t exist. Wukong Knows this because he Felt it when he killed The Macaque. He felt the shift within himself as that part of himself died. It’s most blatant in one of the graphic novel versions of JTTW.

The show creators could very well take a different approach, since the lack of information on the Gibbon and Horse-Monkey could give them a lot of room to play. I highly doubt it though.

Especially considering MK exists. That’s right, now to move on to MK.

So, MK is a Stone Monkey not dissimilar to Wukong. We knew even before S5 that the creation goddess Nuwa would have something to do with MKs creation. S5 itself is a reference to one of Nuwa’s many deeds in folklore. The Mending of the Heavens with the Five Colored Stones.

MK himself seems to be more closely inspired by a non-canon sequel story from the 17th century though. Set 200 years after the end of Wukongs journey, the Later Journey to the West follows Sun Luzhen, a Stone Monkey who is called Sun Wukong’s Spiritual Descendant. More on that latter.

BUT! MK, as of S5, also seems to have something in common with two other origins for WUKONG. One says that the stone egg Wukong hatched from was One Of The Five Colored Stones. While another says Wukong is the Younger Brother of The Great Sage Equaling Heaven (and also one of his siblings seems to be a variation of Nuwa herself.) Wukongs own title in that version is Great Sage Reaching to Heaven.

Back to Sun Luzhen. I have another short post that points them out too but there are two references I feel relate directly back to Sun Luzhen when it comes to MK and one that can be a reference but also might not be. One of the two more direct ones is MKs name in the original Chinese dub and the other is a throw away line in the S3 episode Smartie Kid. The maybe/maybe not one is from the VR game MK plays in, I think, S2.

Sun Luzhen, whose name means Monkey Who Walks Reality, bears the title Little Sage Equaling Heaven. This is written as 齊天小聖 Qitian Xiaosheng. Pretty similar to 齐小天 (with the 齐 as a simplified 齊) Qi Xiaotian “Little Heaven”, MKs name in the Chinese dub. They share the character for “Heaven/Sky”, the character for “Little”, and the though not directly the same they share the character meaning “Equal”. Both of them share two characters from Wukongs title with Luzhen sharing the 聖 (meaning “Sage”) from 齊天大聖 Qítiān Dàshèng, Great Sage Equaling Heaven.

The throwaway line from S3 is also, what I believe, a reference to that same title. I have it highlighted here.

MK clearly states himself “Monkie Kid, delivery boy, somewhat equal to Heaven” as a list of What/Who he is. He is also the Monkey Kings Successor and Directly Taught By Monkey King. Something shared with Sun Luzhen. (Though it might also be a reference the English dub did to his Chinese name, I haven’t listened to the Chinese dub myself.)

Sun Luzhen goes through a very similar life to Wukongs. From Invading Heaven and causing havoc, to Discovering Immortality, to being convinced to going on a journey to enlightenment while guarding a Monk with 2 other yaoguai. A journey started by Heaven calling in Wukong to deal with this new mischievous monkey.

The two companion yaoguai are also interesting. One is the direct descendant of Zhu Baijie and the student of Sha Wujing. Just like how MK has Piggsy and Sandy. With Tang filling the Monks roll.

It seems like Sun Luzhen is the inspiration for a lot of different media about Sun Wukong and the After of the journey.

There’s the DC comic Monkey Prince, where one of Wukongs hair clones becomes his own person by transforming into a human infant and hiding in a bolder writhing the Phantom Zone. (Wukong is trapped there after fighting Darkside and he was turned into basically a living bomb. He can’t leave or he blows up and takes everything with him.) His Bolder/stone egg gets tossed out of a portal someone opened in order the get Wukong out and enslave him. The kid gets adopted, grows up and eventually becomes a teen Hero who banishes demons.

The most recent, Black Myth: Wukong, also seems to also be a variant of it even though the protagonist character isn’t named until later (spoilers. not gonna say). With quite a few story beats in common.

So, yeah. It’s unlikely we’ll see any of the other Celestial Monkeys even though it Would be really cool to see them. It would even be cool if the last two were Both the bad guys. Like, a toxic co-dependent reflection on who Wukong and Macaque could have been.

Or, maybe the crew Meets Them and has to Ask Them For Help against the big bad. This could let Wukong and Macaque see a Healthier version of their dynamic. Could be pretty interesting.

Sorry about all that. I did say it would be really long winded.

In JTTW (journey to the west) there are 4 mystic monkeys. In LMK we obviously have Macaque, Wukong and MK. But the 4th one has not shown up yet.

This can only mean one thing, season 6's villain, the person Nine-Headed serpent was talking about. IS the 4th mystic monkey. Who also has Yin Yang imagery.

You know what else had yin and yang imagery? The temple at the end of s5 when Nine was talking about how "HE was winning"

If this actually ends up happening, remember me!

[sciencelings-writes]

Who Could Ever Leave (But Who Could Stay)

Whumptober prompt 15: Emotional Damage/ New Scars.

Warnings: discussions of death and mourning, nothing graphic

AO3 Link

WC: 3,728

Summary: Wild returns to the Forgotten Temple after the events of LU. 

Wild had always been drawn to the Forgotten Temple. Though it took a while for him to look closely at all the faded writing on the walls, to look under the rubble and find the true purpose of the building. It turned out, there was a reason he was so drawn to it. 

Sprawled across the rooms in a dozen forms of ancient Hylian, was the history of the heroes' spirit and their battles against the man Ganondorf and the beast Ganon. It took weeks to translate and transcribe it all. Carvings of legendary battles were immortalized in stone and if this excavation had happened earlier, Wild would’ve just found it kind of cool instead of completely earthshattering. 

Months ago Wild had stepped through his last dark triangular portal, leaving his new family behind for a time where they’ve long since perished and faded into myths. Going from having eight brothers on a constant road trip through time to being dropped alone in his wide world was quite the shift. Going from ‘Wild’ back to just ‘Link’ added to how jarring the difference was. 

It wasn’t as if his incarnations lived so far away that he wouldn’t be able to visit them, no, by his time, they were dead. Dead for so long that their bones would’ve turned to dust and any mark they had made on the world, if not completely forgotten, was turned into old songs and stories told to children to keep them from talking to strange men in caves. So old that it was doubtful that even the Great Deku Tree would have the ability to remember, though he was unlikely to be able to stay awake for long enough to tell him. 

But this temple at the end of a great canyon held their stories on its walls and in eternal stone tablets. There were statues in all forms of decay of their likenesses, some of the more well-preserved were a boy with an ocarina and a wolf carrying a strange rider. But Link could identify most of them despite how much the marble crumbled. He knew who wore that particular scarf and who would’ve been depicted with hands covered in rings. 

They were cold memorials like the one of Mipha, though these ones were largely decrepit and in terrible shape. He spent hours restoring the ones he could, painstakingly cleaning the ancient inscriptions and piecing the fragments of stone together like a puzzle. He helped Zelda translate the words even though it didn’t come as easily for him as it did for her. Instead, he made himself useful by moving the rubble and searching for anything interesting. 

After days of transcribing pieces of the wall whose inscriptions seemed to fit in one of the earliest tales of the goddess's chosen people living in islands in the sky, Link found something more than just faded words. Under pounds of rubble was the entrance to a hallway that led even deeper underground. 

It took a few hours to dig out all the rocks from the doorway, but once the dark hall was opened to him, he only hesitated long enough to light a torch before adventuring into the shadows. 

For a moment he thought about hollering to Zelda that he was going into the mysterious dark room, but she was on the other side of the temple surrounded by pages and pages of writing and seemed completely engrossed in her work. Plus, if there was any place where giant spiders would’ve survived for thousands of years, it would be in the creepy dark corners of this older than ancient temple. It would be smart to check to see if there was any danger right? 

So Link ventured into the corridor, only the light of a torch in one hand and the faint glow of the master sword reflecting across the old stone. The sword seemed extra luminescent in the new darkness. The only sounds were his boots against the worn ground and the slight snaps from the fire interacting with the oils on the torch. No snapping of arachnid maniples thankfully. 

The air was stale and dusty, which he expected. What he didn’t expect was the increasing number of foliage. Even though the entire area had been sealed off from all light for at least a hundred years, there were green plants growing from the hidden section of the temple, right where the only path headed. Not just moss or mushrooms that didn’t need light, but flowers and ferns inhabiting the cracks in the wall. 

There was a single room at the end of the hall, it was just as dark as everything else. Thankfully, there were no large spiders waiting to attack him. One of the perks of his Hyrule was that there weren’t any more massive arachnids.  Link used his torch to light the half dozen that were attached to a circle of pillars that supported the large room. Then he saw what the room really was. 

Stone boxes surrounded a slight incline in the center of the room. Each one with a carved figure resting peacefully as if they had turned to stone in the middle of a nap. They were each posed holding a blade as many great warriors would be after their deaths. Not to be used, but in a reverent rest to honor the fallen soldier. But the swords they held were familiar, as well as their faces. He should’ve guessed whose resting place this would be given the forgotten temple's history. 

He had unearthed a crypt. Not just any crypt though, he had stumbled upon the burial chamber of Hylia’s previous chosen heroes. The final resting place of his brothers, and more than likely, would someday be his own. The thought was almost comforting in juxtaposition with the rush of renewed grief that made him stumble back at the realization. 

Link closed the distance between him and the nearest sarcophagus in an act of morbid curiosity. He was fully aware that there was no way it would make him feel anything but agony. The first recognizable detail he could identify was the stone master sword, though he realized that detail would likely be repeated a few times. The face and the crown really tipped him off. Sky, the First King of Hyrule. It was a little strange seeing him with a beard. 

One by one Link visited each marble casket, feeling his heart crumble with every one he identified. Four with his small stature and the four sword, though it seemed like he was just permanently short and not confirmed to have died young. He still looked too young encased in stone though. 

He recognized Time by his distinct nose, to be fair, he was looking from a side profile and the stone didn’t show his fierce deity markings very strongly. Link also approached from the unscarred side. The old man too held the master sword, which he likely would not have liked. The part that really hit Link was that the sculpture didn’t look too different than when he had last seen Time those few months ago. Other than the unfamiliar armor, he had barely aged. 

The next one was what really broke what little control he had over his emotions. Sure, the other ones made him feel like collapsing and crying but he had somehow managed to move on and keep his eyes dry, though still stinging with the effort of trying not to do that. But the next one was Twilight. He had the strong urge to turn away and move on to the next one but he couldn’t. He just drifted closer to the sarcophagus like a lethargic ghost. 

It had been so easy to pretend that there would’ve been a happy ending. That there would somehow be a way to prevent their inevitable departure, that they would meet again. But while Link considered himself hopeful, he wasn’t delusional. If he had access to any form of time travel, he’d likely first go back to prevent the calamity over reuniting with his brothers. That would be the heroic thing to do right? Prioritizing the greater good or some bullshit? 

Time travel wasn’t uncommon, but Link wasn’t foolish enough to believe he’d be allowed to use it for something less than saving the crumbling kingdom of Hyrule, again. No matter how much he missed them, no matter how much he cared about them, they were all gone. They had been dropped together from different times and timelines and Link was stupid enough to get attached enough for it to tear him into pieces when they were ripped apart after their purpose was fulfilled. But that was his fault. Now he just had to live with it. 

Link couldn’t bring himself to look too closely at Twilight’s stone face. He didn’t want to agonize over how long he had lived before the death mask was made. He didn’t want to think about if he had been too young or not. Instead, he grabbed for one of his hands that rested on the carved master sword. It was cold and Link had never wanted anything more than for it to be real but he figured all the miracles meant for him had all been used. He closed his eyes and whispered the brief prayer of rest, a song over the deceased traditionally saved for the family of the recently dead to sing. He didn’t realize that he had remembered it until now. 

He moved on to the next casket. It was Wind, the first King of New Hyrule. His growth was one of the most dramatic, he could almost manage a smile but not quite. Wind hadn’t given up the pirate look, in fact, he had really leaned into it. He was pretty sure that the statue depicted his arms full of tattoos. 

Link didn’t recognize all the heroes, but he still paid his respects, they were still part of him, even if he didn’t know it. In fact, it made him want to know their stories more. 

He had to do a double-take at Legend’s sculpture, he had grown old. Easily older than any of the others. He still held his odd upgraded master sword in jewel-encrusted hands and when he took the time to read an inscription near him, because the language of Legend’s Era was similar enough to his own that it didn’t take too much effort, it said ‘It’s Dangerous to go Alone.’ Which was an awfully ominous thing to have in a sepulcher. 

The next one revealed where the plants had originated from. Hyrule’s sarcophagus had been slightly opened by self-growing funeral flowers. They reminded Link of the ones that would grow by fairy fountains. They were much more alive than they should be, to be fair, nothing except for nocturnal bugs should be alive down here, but these plants managed. Hyrule was still depicted young though, and at this point, Link just hoped that the sculptures just weren’t accurate. He couldn’t quite convince himself that it was the case though. 

Warriors’ coffin looked like one of the most recent additions, though they were all worn stone with bits and pieces chipped off with age, his was somehow the most intact. It looked a little too lifelike in Link’s opinion. It was odd to see the captain look so restful, so relaxed. In the dim flickering torchlight Link almost convinced himself that he saw eyelashes fluttering, he could almost hear the groan his brother would make whenever he was woken up. 

But it was silent. No more campfire stories, no more metallic clangs of a casual spar, no more laughter and juvenile pranks, no more ambient harp strumming or ocarina music. Just Link. Just his shaking breaths and wet sniffling that would normally be quiet but in the soundless room were almost thunderous. 

There was plenty of room in the vault for more heroes to be placed. An unending cycle of rebirth just to fight an evil that was just as stubborn. It was exhausting. So many lifetimes spent fighting the same evil and all its many branches, whether as a monstrous boar or power-hungry warlock or a small power-hungry warlock or a power-hungry warlock with an obsession with paintings. 

Link suddenly felt older than he really was, even older than the century of life he technically had under his belt. Thousands of years fighting the same fight, mostly winning, but not always, but never being finished, never able to stop the threat forever. 

The heroes spirit was so old, older than so many gods and spirits and beings beyond his comprehension. Older than fairies and trees and deities, as old as goddess blood, and older than the kingdom itself. He had seen the rise and fall of Hyrule many times, through skies and floods and total destruction and corruption, darkness always returned but he was always there, he would always be there. 

That was the tragedy, wasn’t it? He was always doomed to fight and suffer and die over and over and over again. It had been the fate of his brothers, it had already been his own. Though his tomb was far away from theirs. For a moment he was thankful that it was, it would’ve been much more unsettling to wake up here. In the shrine, he could almost pretend that it wasn’t a crypt. It was a little more obvious here. 

There was something about being confronted by their graves, their faces etched in stone, repeating the same name over and over again. Link Link Link Link Link… No last names, only Link. They didn’t need to be individualized, they were all the same person. 

They were gone, not even leaving behind dust in the circular room that was suddenly suffocating to be in. They were his friends, his mentors, his brothers, his family. But he was in the future where they were dead, it had been the same with the champions, his old family that he scarcely remembered. He was always doomed to leave everyone behind, to be stuck in a world without them. 

His knees hit the hard stone as they became too weak to carry him. Until now, it hadn’t really hit him that they were… gone. That he would never see them again. It was so easy without real closure to think that they were just living somewhere in time, peacefully raising a family on their wife's farm or traveling in a healthy safe world, settling down and taking care of apple orchards now that their purpose was fulfilled, now that they were free. 

It was foolish to think that they would each have a happy ending. Maybe it was part of Demise’s curse that Sky told them about. For the kingdom, the consistency of a hero had always been a source of hope. Every time some evil rose, there would be a hero to meet it and defend them. But it was the same hero every damn time. No one thought about how the hero would feel about this arrangement. It’s what made the demon god’s curse a curse and not just some hopeful fairytale to tell to kids. 

His family had all succumbed to the same fate, unable to fight that last monster or deviate from their divine purpose. It was impossible to tell if they had been happy, if they had died fulfilled, if they died alone. All he knew is that they were gone. He would never hear Time’s ocarina or Sky’s snoring or Wind’s laughter ever again. His only memories of them held within images of the slate, much like his memories of Zelda and the Champions were. 

Someday he would forget their voices and their words, whatever he had no record of would be as forgotten as they were to the rest of the world, and with his memory issues, he feared he would forget everything that wasn’t nailed down. It was inevitable that they would become simply stories instead of people, if not completely forgotten. 

They didn’t deserve that. They didn’t deserve to be forgotten. Though, he doubted that anyone else from his missing memory deserved that fate. 

Surrounded by the last images of his brothers, Wild cried. He wept until his throat burned like he had accidentally swallowed a lizalfos spitting acid, like the world had come crashing down around him and he was stuck under tons of rubble, too far away from anyone to be saved. 

For a moment, he was glad that he was alone, allowed to suffer in silence without the judgment or pity in anyone’s eyes, he didn’t have to be forced to pull himself together for the sake of others, to keep up some image he had been trained to maintain. For once he let himself feel the pain he had been avoiding for so long, he was so tired of flinching away and pretending that it wasn’t there. 

He must’ve been sitting there for hours, letting time pass him by as he was consumed by grief. He knew he would feel better if he left, if he ran out of the dim pit he had discovered and found something else to take his interest, there were several Lynels just north of the temple, but he knew if he ran away, he would refuse to come back. He was just postponing the inevitable. He was lucky to see them for one last time, to have the closure most of them would never have had. 

Eventually, he ran out of tears to cry and agony to fully feel. His violent sobs had left with only shaking breaths as proof they had been there in the first place. He felt no warmth from the torches, no peace from the silence. 

The closest of Hyrules flowers caught his eye for a moment. He knew the gentle glow of the bloom anywhere. It was a silent princess, an especially luminous one. It seemed strange that anything beautiful could survive in the damaged crypt. It was almost cruel that something living would be forced to be trapped down there, surrounded by only death and mourning, never being able to see the sun. Perhaps he could convince Zelda to take it with them back home, maybe that would give him some sliver of solace in the shadows he had been banished to. 

 “Link? Are you down here? You know you can’t just run off anymore-” The scholar's inquiring voice broke the deafening silence, echoing around the stone walls. Her footfalls were determined and unafraid of the darkness that she ventured into. He could tell the moment she laid eyes on him, her voice trailing off into the decaying rock.

“Did something happen? Are you hurt?” She asked, but one look around the room helped her understand. She’d had a similar moment on Mount Hylia, where Impa had told them the King had been laid to rest. Seeing the monument of stalked stones made her realize that even after a hundred years, she’d never really processed what had happened. Link had to drag her out of the snow that day, so she wouldn’t be completely swallowed by mourning, and also frostbite. 

Even in the dim light of the flickering flames, she could see the trails left by tears down his cheeks, how his eyes were left glossy and off-color. His long hair was partially in front of his face as if he had been bowing his head and only just recently lifted it and couldn’t bother fixing what had landed in front of his eyes. He had been sitting on shallow steps with his arms hugging at his legs bent protectively in front of his chest. 

“Come on, this doesn’t look like a very comfortable place to sit,” She held out her hand, knowing that he would take it out of politeness and just stand up himself, she yanked him up before he could perform such chivalry. She noted that he didn’t let go of her after he regained his footing, only rotating his grip so they could walk alongside each other. 

He took one last look at the flower before they could leave, its blue glow drawing his gaze automatically. But it wasn’t the silent princess that caught his eye, it was a familiar teal flame, dancing serenely at the very center of the room. 

He blinked, and it was gone, but its afterimage was burned into his mind. 

Spirit flame wasn’t uncommon for him to see, it always surrounded the ghosts of the champions, of the king, and even of him when he used his friend's gifts. It was the color of the stones said to anchor spirits to the mortal realm. It was the color of blupees and Satori and it was a distinctly different blue than the glowing flowers and the fire in ancient furnaces. 

It wasn’t a shock for him to see, what better place would an energy like that appear than in a room filled with graves. It was clear to Link what that meant. 

One of them had waited. During the eons of wars and peace and total destruction and rebuilding, one of them had waited for him. It was impossible to tell who, though he had a few guesses. But one thing was certain, he had not been alone in that room. 

There was one thing Link took comfort in the idea of being trapped in an endless cycle, it was that no matter how much the beast tried, death would never be the end. They shared a name and a fate and a curse, but they also shared a spirit. No matter what happened, they would always be with him. After all, they were all the same person anyway. 

Perhaps he would return for the flower before they left the excavation site entirely, or in a few years when the wound was less raw, or maybe he would simply never return at all. But for now, it was left with the heroes and what little remained of them. In any scenario, whether that be returning of his own free will or being placed with his brothers to rest there, as was the purpose of a tomb, he would be back. Someday he would join them again. 

He would have to apologize for making them wait for so long.

[uchanekome]

A One Piece Theory *SPOILERS*

Okay soooo chapter 1043 happened and even before that I had gone down a rabbit hole of speculation about what the One Piece is why it made Roger laugh so hard he named the freaking island after it? Who was Joy Boy and how does Luffy’s Devil Fruit relate him? Who was the Sun God Nika? What is the Will of D? 

Well I did some digging (and by some I mean a LOT) and if what I speculate is true than it’s all this is connected by a single thread called Hinduism. Now I’m no expert on Hinduism but I did some reading on it and found some very interesting things. Hinduism is the most ancient religion on earth. And so naturally many myths have an origin in Hinduism much like the legend of Joyboy. Joyboy the spirit of music, is a myth that had it’s origin in india, africa and Haiti. The legend told of a smiling man who’s drums where the stuff of legend and his songs would spread hope of liberation to slaves. Jazz drum musicians would strive to be as good as Joyboy. 

In the chapter we hear mention from Zunesha about the “drums of liberation”  

This legend was actually derived from a Javanese story about a man, a king actually named Jayabaya/Joyoboyo or Nika. Here’s a link to the wikipidia all about him https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jayabaya

But to make a long story short the guy was an amazing ruler and his people prospered under him. But it’s hard to tell what was fact and fiction about him cause stories clamed he was one of Vishnu’s incarnations. (We’ll get into that later.) He also was some sort of prophet and foretold Japan’s occupation in WW2 and that the Javanese people would be saved eventually. He also somehow foretold that there would be cars and planes so there’s that. Anyways this guy apparently meditated so long he got supernatural powers. 

Now after I read his Wikipedia article I decided to go to another...Vishnu’s. This was where things got interesting. Apparently whenever the world is threatened with evil, chaos, and destructive forces, Vishnu descends in the form of an avatar to return balance to it. This very much reminds me of Luffy. Whenever there is evil Luffy rights it. Not because of some god granted reason no Luffy just wants to help his friends...but wouldn’t someone like Luffy be the perfect avatar for Vishnu or in other words for Joy Boy? Vishnu’s avatars all had wills of their own. They all had their own goals and wants. But they always aligned with Vishnu’s core beliefs. General goodness, leadership, but most importantly the rights of the individual. Now in the current chapter Luffy seems to have awakened his devil fruit and with it Joy Boy. But what links Joy Boy to the Devil Fruit?

Well the Youtuber “Joy_Boy Theories” (link below) had a fascinating take on this. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0NrswMlA9Rk

 He believes that Joy Boy’s spirit IS the devil inside Luffy’s devil fruit. And that Devil Fruit were created using souls from the ancient kingdom. The Shandorians believed souls of the dead resided in the trees. And we know Devil fruit are made from a special tree, than henceforth reincarnated into the nearest fruit after the original eater has died. Given the information we have it’s not hard to come to the conclusion JBT did. Still I think we can take this idea a bit farther. 

But first lets go back to the Hinduism aspect.

I always assumed that the Will of D was the will of the devil or something along those lines. After all they are the ones said to oppose the “gods” AKA the Celestial Dragons. However I think history has it backwards. Remember Doflamingo’s words at Marineford. “Justice will prevail, you say? But of course it will! Whoever wins this war becomes justice! .” In Hinduism there is a rivalry between two factions, the Devas the Suras. The Devas are basically good gods while the Suras are evil demons. There’s always been a tug of war between the two over control. So if Vishnu is a Deva than maybe the Will of D is actually the Will of the Devas. The gods who existed before the false gods took their place. We know that they were gods because NikaAKAJoyBoyAKAJoyoboyoAKAVishnu was said to be a “Sun God” This terminology has never been used towards ANY of the good guys so far. The “Gods” in One Piece are usually selfish and cruel. But Nika was a symbol of good of hope and of liberation for the slaves. Slavery is something the “Gods” of One Piece the Celestial Dragons and by extension the mysterious Im actively participate in. Meaning there used to be a different set of gods. Gods who’s souls were trapped in a tree and who’s individual powers became the devil fruit.

Now I know what your thinking. “If they were gods how were they killed.” I personally think this has a connection to another aspect of the fight between the Hindu gods. Kshira Sagara AKA the ocean of milk. Which finally brings me to The One Piece TM. It’s my belief that PART of it not all of it, is another pirate legend one that is very well known. The fountain of youth. In Hindu belief Devas and Suras got their immortality from the ocean of milk. They each took turns churning it until it became amirita the elixir of immortality. But if it’s youth and not full immortality we can assume their bodies can be killed. For the fountain of youth to exist in One Piece and no one knows about it it would have to be a well guarded secret perhaps only Im knows about it. After all he seems very immortal. As for Roger, a man dying of an illness the One Piece having with it something he’s never cared about but the whole world would give their left arm and a leg for would be amusing. Of course he didn’t drink it cause like Ace he wasn’t interested in living forever, just living today was enough.

Well I’ve reached the end of my theory. Do yall think I’m way off or do you think I’m on to something here. IDK. But I did have fun with this.  

[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

Siren Song (Song Mingi)

Ateez Masterlist                                                    Group Masterlist

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MINGI!!!!! I hope he has an amazing day

I wrote this being incredibly inspired and I quite like how it turned out so please let me know what you think

Tags: Pirate au! Mingi x Fem siren! Reader, death, nudity, alcohol

Smut tags: Quite soft, explorative, Mingi is curious, oral (reader receiving), passionate sex, body worship, a lot of kissing, cumming inside

Word count: 6177

Sirens, they were a beautiful myth. A story that sailors told to convince themselves they weren’t going mad at sea. A legend... if that’s what you believed in. 

But they weren’t a legend, they were very real. Some pirates and sailors would tell you that, tell you their stories. That they had heard their beautiful songs at sea and were almost lured in. Although not many, if any believed them. Being a pirate or at sea for a long period of time makes a man lose his credibility. However sirens, were very very real. 

Mingi was new to the boat, a fresh faced, wide eyed, young man who was ready to see the world. Becoming a pirate wasn’t something he had planned, it’s not something anyone truly plans. But society had failed him, because of his status. Being accused of something he didn’t do and found guilty, he didn’t have a choice but to run. Mingi feared nothing more than death, if he was caught he’d surely be hanged. 

No, becoming a pirate was never what he had planned. After running, he stowed away on a goods ship and somehow found himself in a pirate hotspot. Surrounded by pillagers, murderers and some things even possibly worse, he was terrified. Until a cheery man approached him named Kim Hongjoong, had a proposition for him, an offer to get Mingi out of there and give him a family. A man in his position could hardly say no. 

Now he was here, staring over the rails of the ship as they sailed slowly over misty water. He hadn’t been on waters like this in his entire life. They were filled with mystery, so much so it gave Mingi the feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach. 

“Carefull, lean over too far and you might fall in.” Yunho joked as he placed some crates on the deck. “I could’ve sworn I saw-” “You saw something in the water? Not uncommon in these parts.” Yunho told the younger, watching his expression shift. Mingi was a bit paranoid, you had to be when you’re life took a turn the way his did. 

“It’s common here?” Mingi asked, feeling a wave of security flow over him. He was just relieved to know he wasn’t the only one seeing things. “Very common. Don’t scare him Yunho, you were just as scared as him the first time you came here.” Captain Hongjoong’s voice startled the both of them, making them whip their heads around. “Sorry captain, I couldn’t help myself.” Yunho apologized and the captain shook his head with a smile. “Go bring those crates down to storage, Yeosang is waiting on them.” Yunho wasn’t one to disobey orders, so he grabbed them and left. 

“Don’t let them make you crazy. Or this part of the sea. I’ve known plenty of men who’ve gone crazy in these parts. I like you Mingi, don’t let yourself become one of them.” Hongjoong placed his hand on the younger’s back and watched as he smiled at him. “I won’t, Captain.” Mingi laughed slightly, feeling more at ease by the second. Hongjoong smiled at him in return before going to walk away, only to turn back at the last moment. “If you hear the sweet song of a woman, ignore it.” 

All that ease Mingi felt suddenly disappeared at those words, because well he didn’t quite understand what he meant. Siren’s weren’t common knowledge or a local myth in the town he grew up in. 

Scared, the man backed away from the railing and carried on with his tasks. Ignoring any sound that came from anywhere other than the ship. He was so immensly paranoid now , but there was also something in the back of his mind that his crew mates were just messing with him.

That evening, he found himself drinking with Wooyoung and San, admittedly his first mistake. He didn’t know how it was possible but with those two, he found himself drinking way more than he normally would. At least he was a happy drunk, cheery as ever this way and almost forgetting the reason he was there in the first place. The crew felt like real friends however, similar to one’s he had before running away so he didn’t quite have the right to complain. 

Mingi placed his bottle down on the deck and swayed over to the side of the boat. He felt like he was going to be sick, not that Wooyoung and San would’ve noticed. No they had long fallen asleep like the rest of the crew

Leaning over the deck, he looked at the black water. It was terrifying to him because of how deep it was. He couldn’t see anything, just a sea of black surrounding him. If he wasn’t nauseous before, he most definitely was now. 

When he looked back at the water, he wasn’t expecting to see eyes looking back at him. Let alone warm eyes, full of life, blinking at him from the water. It was a woman seemingly bobbing along and just watching him. He could only see her face and he wasn’t even sure he was actually seeing it. 

“It’s the alcohol.” He mumbled to himself, blinking and rubbing his eyes. But she didn’t disappear from sight. As a matter of fact, it seemed like she had swam closer. “Are you a pirate?” Her voice was smooth, warm in contrast to the brisk air and it made her all the more real. Mingi was frozen, just staring back at her with wide eyes and taking in the details. 

It seemed like she was surrounded by light, it reflected off of her damp skin as she raised her head and body more. Now exposing her bare shoulders, he realised she wasn’t wearing any clothing and averted his eyes, but only for a moment. He had caught something out of the corner of his eye, something silver that reflected the moon light. 

It was a shiny, silver tail that practically glowed. The closer he looked, the more he noticed that it was attached to her and well the more his fear rose. Though he wasn’t sure what the fear stemmed from, if it was not knowing what this creature was, or that he thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

“What are you?” He asked, staring at her with an intrigued expression. Mingi couldn’t help but get goosebumps as she laughed, throwing her head back and expelling the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. “That’s not a very kind question... though in hind sight I asked you the same thing.” She said, lifting her hands to move her long wet hair from her face. This left her body even more exposed to him, as she bobbed along the water. Though she didn’t seem fazed by it one bit. 

“How about this, you answer my question and I’ll answer yours?” She rebutted and Mingi stood with his mouth agape. “Alright.” He barely choked out and watched as she disappeared under the water, only to appear closer to the ship again. Now that she was closer, he could see her face better and he felt himself get nervous. She was beautiful, an ethereal being. 

“Are you a pirate?” She asked again, a curious smile on her face as she looked up at him. “I am.” Mingi responded, watching as she clapped her hands in joy. “Oh I do so much like pirates. So much more interesting than fishermen.” Her eyes sparkled as she spoke and Mingi was lost, as if she had cast spell. “Their stories are so much more interesting.” She added on before locking eyes with him once more. 

“Your turn.” She smiled at him and Mingi dried his hands on his pants, the situation had caused a cold sweat to form. “What are you?” His question was simple, yet still made the woman laugh again. “Surely a pirate knows a siren when he sees one, though if that was the case you probably would’ve tried to kill me.” She rambled as her tail splashed the dark water lightly. “A siren?” Mingi asked, not quite having heard the word before. “A siren... surely you’ve heard of them. You must be quite new to sea.” She said softly, the young pirate intrigued her. 

“Tell me your name, handsome pirate.” She asked softly and Mingi felt himself doubt whether he should tell her. She somehow managed to see right through him, however she called him handsome and that made a feeling bubble in the pit of his stomach. “Mingi.” He said it softly, merely a whisper, one he didn’t think she could hear. “Mingi.” She repeated much to his surprise. “Mingi... I like the way that feels to say.” She added on and he leaned down a bit more, trying to get closer to her. 

“Mingi, make sure to ask your crew about sirens.” She giggled before disappearing underwater, only to appear further away. Mingi’s heart sank, not wanting her to go, not yet. “Wait! Wait! At least tell me your name!” He called out to her, watching as she halted once more. She turned to look at him and with small laugh, she told him. “Y/N, my name is Y/N.” 

Mingi couldn’t find sleep, not at all after that. There was question in his mind whether all that he saw that night really happened. He had drank a lot and he had been at sea longer than ever before. It must’ve been a dream, a vision even. You were a dream, a vision. 

“Did you drink that much last night?” Captain Hongjoong asked, staring at his younger crew mate. He was gazing off into the distance, eyes small due to lack of sleep and hands restless. “No, I just couldn’t sleep.” Mingi admitted, not quite wanting to ask anyone about what he had seen. But if anyone would tell him seriously, it would be the captain. 

“What’s bothering you?” The man could tell when something was bothering his crew and it was incredibly obvious that something was bothering him. “It’s just something San and Wooyoung said yesterday...” “I told you not to listen to their stories.” The captain laughed and Mingi shook his head. “No, I just- what are sirens?” Mingi choked out the question, the thing that had been on his mind all night. Hongjoong wasn’t expecting the question to lead here, he thought the man knew.

“You don’t know? I thought you did when I made my comments yesterday.” He watched as the younger shook his head. “Well, many think they’re legend. I suppose I understand why, the brain refuses to believe what it can’t see. But they are very much real.” He paused and Mingi was starting to become scared. Maybe it was his captain’s tone of voice, or maybe it was the validation that you weren’t a figment of his imagination. 

“They’re beautiful beings, more beautiful than any of the other evil things put on this earth. Top half of a beautiful woman and the bottom half a tail. Not to mention their voices, they lure sailor men in with their song and beauty. Only to drag them to bottom of the ocean and drown them. Most sailors fall for it, they just want a kiss from the beautiful thing so that when they go back home they have a story to tell. Fools, can’t blame the creatures for doing it.” Mingi was mortified at his captain’s words. To think he found you to be the most beautiful thing in the world. The prettiest things were the deadliest, that was what Mingi was starting to learn. 

Mingi took the words as warning, if you appeared again he wasn’t going to give you the time of day. At least that’s what he told himself. Despite the tale, he wanted to see you again. So badly, he found himself dreaming about you. His eyes deceived him as stared out at the sea, he could have sworn he saw the sunlight reflect off of your silver tail.

But he had to push the to the side, there was an island incomming. It was nothing more than a small island, no living thing in sight. Nothing but beaches and trees, good enough to hunt and good enough to make sure the men didn’t go crazy on board. Which meant everyone around was scrambling around and preparing to drop the anchor. 

His eyes were glued on the water as they rowed to shore. Mingi was entirely sure he would never see you again, they had travelled quite far in the last 2 days and well it’s not like you had a reason to stick around. He was sure of it, but he didn’t want to be right. 

The plan was to stay on the island over night, sleep in the tree line and then go back in the morning once they had gathered enough and hunted enough. Simple enough.

Well, night rolled around quickly and the crew was sound asleep. Everyone except Mingi, no he had hardly slept a wink since you visited him. He simply laid in his hammock and counted the stars through the tree tops. That was until he heard a song. An absolutely heavenly voice coming from the shore. 

Mingi knew he shouldn’t have gotten up, he knew it. But there was a chance that it was you and he just couldn’t help himself. He wanted to see you again, despite what his captain had told him. 

The sand crunched beneath his boots as he slowly walked over to the shore line, scanning the beach and looking for the source of the voice. Looking over, he could see a group of rocks and on top of the largest one, he spotted it. That familiar glow of your tail in the moonlight and the way you looked up at the sky and sang. 

Waling slowly, he listened to your song and your beautiful voice as you stared at the night sky. The closer he got, the more he found his chest aching. He couldn’t tell if it was with fear or desire and that line got more blurred the closer he got. 

“Mingi!” Your voice was cheery when you noticed him approaching you and it was accompanied with an enthousiastic wave. “Surely Y/N isn’t as malicious as Hongjoong told me.” He thought to himself as he stood in front of the rock. You were as beautiful as ever, sitting in front of him. 

“I was hoping you’d be the one to come and find me.” She teased, a soft smirk on her lips as Mingi tried not to gawk at you. “You’re even more handsome up close.” She added on and he felt himself get nervous. “You told me to ask my crew what a siren was. I did.” Mingi told you, playing with his hands so he had something else to look at. “Hmm and what did they tell you?” You were staring at him, truly wanting him to look at you again. 

When Mingi finally brought his eyes back to you, he noticed that your tale was gone, now showing a pair of legs and a very, very bare body. “How?-” He stuttered and you laughed, loving the surprise on his face. “They apparently didn’t tell you everything. if we’re dry and on land, we have legs.” You explained, watching as his eyes trailed over your body. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Mingi asked, finding it better to be straightforward from this point on. It’s better to have feigned confidence than nothing at all. “No. You fascinate me. I don’t kill the things that fascinate me.” You were so blunt about it, raking your hands through your hair. “Come here, pirate and tell me your story. It’s not every day a pirate doesn’t know the legend of a siren. Whether they believe it or not.” Mingi was caught off guard, not sure what to do. The sea was far enough away, which comforted him because he knew you couldn’t drown him on this rock. 

He moved to sit across from you on the rock and tried to avoid staring at your bare body, averting his eyes before shrugging off his vest and handing it to you. “I’m sorry, I’m having a hard time concentrating.” Mingi stuttered, you smiled at him though and an odd feeling shot through your chest. “Most sailors would simply enjoy.” You said and slipped the clothing over your shoulders. Mingi shook his head, a small smile now forming over his own lips. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy it.” He clarified and looked at you wearing his clothes. You were beautiful. 

“You’re a different type of man, Mingi.” Why his name sounded so good coming from your lips, he had no idea. But it was absolutely addicting. 

“How did you end up out here?” You asked, stretching your legs and leaning back. You loved a good story, where as your sisters didn’t quite like talking but preferred a siren’s typical methods. 

“This wasn’t how my life was supposed to be, I wasn’t supposed to end up here.” Mingi had te delve deep for a moment. Sure some of the crew knew his story, but it wasn’t something he told just anyone. 

“I lived in a town that was quite progressive, I worked under and iron smith as an apprentice. I did good, I was a good man and i just tried to make it by like anyone else.” You watched as he spoke, taking in his details and tone. He was sad. “I never tried to hurt anyone and if I did it wasn’t on deliberate. But my master, he wasn’t good. He actively tried hurting people, especially ones he hated and he didn’t hate anyone more than his own daughter. I never understood why, she was pretty, kind and well liked among the town but he hated her.” Mingi had to pause, remembering that time, remembering the sweet girl that was always so nice to him when he worked. 

“I came into the shop one day and found her, dead on the ground, strangled. Her father did it and pinned it on me. Claiming that I ‘always watched her when she was around’ and that I was ‘just wait for a chance to be alone with her’. I-” Mingi was cut off when a tear dropped from his eyes. You had placed your hand on his chin, wiping it away with your thumb. “You never touched her.” You said softly, scanning his face. “I never did, They were going to hang me for something I didn’t do. I had to run.” You continued to wipe the tears from his face, moving onto your knees to get closer to him. 

“And that’s how you ended up here.” You had heard many sad stories in your life, but none of the men had seemed nearly as regretful as Mingi did in this moment. Your hand moved from his chin to his cheek, taking in his handsome features. Even when he was upset, he was handsome. Sharp jawline coupled with a sharp nose and pillowy lips. Definitely one of the more handsome men at sea. 

“You know in your heart that you didn’t do it.” You said softly, moving your fingers to thread through his hair. Mingi found himself staring at your face, taking note of your sympathetic face. Surely you weren’t the murderous creature he was told you were. 

“My sisters aren’t fond of men, they kill them for sport. But I like hearing the stories, it takes a lot to drive a man out to sea.” You explained and gently pulled his face closer to yours. Mingi felt himself sink into your touch, allowing you to guide him into laying down with his face settled in the crook of your neck. Your skin was soft under his touch and his hands found your waist to hold onto as he relaxed. Your nails scraped over his scalp lightly, making him hum. 

“You have a pure soul.” You said softly, enjoying his touch. Mingi didn’t know what had gotten into him, he had went from being scared of you to being held by you and well he was enjoying it. Your touch was comforting. 

Your legs tangled with his, fingers still running through his hair. “Go to sleep Mingi. Dawn is almost upon us.” You whispered, kissing his forehead and allowing him to lul to sleep. Mingi had let his guard down fully for you and as ridiculous as it sounded, he was falling in love. 

The hours in your arms, were the best hours he had ever slept. Being in such a deep dream that he didn’t think even an earthquake could wake him. He dreamt that he was underwater and absolutely weightless. Just floating under the surface of chrystal clear water. You were swimming circles around him, silver tail catching the rays of light from the sun as you did so. He felt as if he was one with the ocean. 

It wasn’t until the feeling of something pushing him (quite roughly) woke him up and brought him back to reality. “Jesus Christ Mingi, we thought you’d be killed by something. What are you doing all the way out here?” Wooyoung’s voice was shrill as he yelled to wake Mingi up. “Huh?” He shot up from his position on the rock, looking around frantically for you. But you were nowhere to be found and well, neither was his vest. 

“What are you doing out here?” Wooyoung asked again and Mingi shook his head, needing to come up with a response and fast. “I uhh couldn’t sleep last night, went for a walk and then sat down here. Guess I fell asleep.” He cleared his throat and blinked at his friend. “You’ve been acting strange Mingi. Are you alright?” He asked, voice full of concern. Mingi never acted this odd, Wooyoung was worried. 

“I’m fine, just haven’t been sleeping properly.” He admitted and ran his fingers through his hair. Your touch was still lingering on his skin, he could feel you everywhere. 

“Captain wants to stay here one more night, founds some caves and a lake he wants to check out.” Wooyoung explained and Mingi nodded. “Alright, I’ll be around in a bit.” Mingi said softly, needing a moment to process some things. Where had you gone?

He had managed to pull himself together, rejoining the crew in exploring the island. Traipsing through the trees, he looked around the area and took it in. One thing he could admit was that he never would have seen half of the beautiful things he had if he had stayed in his village, you included. He couldn’t take that for granted, especially not as he was standing in front of a small waterfall that fell into a small crystal clear lake. 

“Wow.” He said quietly, feeling Hongjoong clap his hand onto his back. “Not something you see everyday.” His captain said, a big smile on his face. Mingi couldn’t help but crack a smile himself, shaking his head. “Definitely not something you see everyday.” He laughed, looking over to the waterfall and laughing. The bad feeling he had had about you was gone, the bad feeling in his gut was gone. Airing his worries out to you made him feel better, things were looking up in his opinion. Maybe he would sleep properly from now on too. 

The pirates made camp near the water and Mingi found himself once more staring into water. It was so clear but you couldn’t see the bottom. It was deceptively deep, someone could easily make the mistake of swimming too deep and not make it back up for air. It looked like the water from his dream.  

The feeling of gentle fingertips gliding over his cheek woke him up that night. He knew his crew wouldn’t spare him the same gentle touch, it had to be you. “Wake up handsome.” Your fingertips moved from his cheek to his chin, stroking it gently as you took in features. Truly handsome. 

“Where’d you go this morning?” Mingi asked, eyes opening slowly to see your face. He watched as your lips curled into smile and your eyes sparkled. “Come on.” You said softly, taking his hand into yours. Pulling Mingi from his bed, he didn’t even question it. He had decided that this island was his paradise. 

“You stole my vest.” Mingi commented once they were further away from the rest of the crew. He watched you let out a hearty laugh and turn around to look at him. “I found myself quite liking it. I think i could get used to this clothing thing.” You smiled, before tugging him closer to you. 

He felt his breath hitch for a moment as your chest met his, it was a natural reaction. The only thing keeping his body from yours was his vest, naturally he was flustered. Mingi pressed his chest against you, the weight of his body making you step backwards until your back hit a boulder. 

“You keep calling me handsome.” Mingi remarked, his hand coming up to rest on your bare hip. It was the first time a man’s touch had made goosebumps form over your skin. “You keep calling me handsome and I don’t think I’ve told you how beautiful I think you are.” His words made you almost shiver. Of course you had heard them all before, he wasn’t your first pirate or sailor. But surely they had a different effect on you than most. 

You grabbed his chin again, this time with more force than any of the other times. Mingi flinched slightly only to find your lips not inches apart from his and he took the risk. He was going to kiss a siren. 

He didn’t intend to kiss you so roughly, but need took over as he pressed his lips to yours. You moved your hands to his hair and gently scratched over his scalp as he kissed you. Deepening the kiss as you did so, you could feel him hum against your lips. His hand moved up, from your hip to your waist underneath vest and his grip tightened slightly. 

Mingi moved his hands down to your thighs, lifting you off the ground to lay you down on your back. The vest had shifted, being useless in covering you up at this point, so you simply took it off. He sat on his heels as you wrapped your legs around his waist, not wanting his body to leave yours. You simply looked up at him as he looked over your body, his regularly soft expression having turned dark and intense. It made heat pool inbetween your legs. 

Reaching up, you undid the ties on his shirt and tugged it off of him. The action made him laugh before he leaned down and pressed his bare chest to yours. His hands moving your hair out of your face before kissing you again. This kiss was so much more intense, teeth clashing and hips rolling into yours. Not to mention the feeling of his bare skin on yours, you were infatuated with him. 

His pants didn’t do much for hiding how much he enjoyed you, bulge pressing directly into your bare core. You let out a gasp at the pressure, making him nip at your lips before trailing the kisses down your jaw. He wasn’t horribly experienced but he knew enough and well he seemed to be doing just fine. That gave him a confidence boost, not to mention every little sound coming out of your mouth, boosted his confidence even more. 

“Mingi-” You hummed, feeling his lips over your neck. The kisses were gentle, soft praises being whispered inbetween them. “So beautiful.” He said softly and groaned as you tugged harshly on his hair. Mingi looked you in the eyes and flashed a smile in your direction. “Where did you learn how to kiss like that?” You asked, your fingers tracing over his lips. “I had a life before this.” He chuckled before turning his face back to your skin. 

His hands moved to massage your breasts, thumbs swiping over your nipples before latching his lips over one. Sucking at your skin and sending a wave of pleasure through your body and making your arch your back. 

Mingi was absolutely straining in his pants now, your body was perfect to him as if you were made for him. Your soft skin, your precious lips and your gentle hands, you were everything he had always wanted. 

Your fingers threading through his hair got a bit harsher the more he flicked his tongue of your nipple, you already felt like you were on fire. He moved his lips down over your stomach before stopping at before your core. This was something he had never done, but something he had always wanted to do. 

Spreading your thighs a little further, he settled between your legs and wrapped his arms around them. “What are yo- Oh.” You moaned, feeling the light kiss on your core. It almost made you feel lightheaded and dizzy, as his tongue delved deeper. Licking up your juices, he couldn’t help but moan. Perhaps it was because of what you were, or maybe you truly were built for him, but you tasted sweet and addictive. He wanted more of you. 

You raised your hips, guiding your core over his tongue and moaning out. “Mingi please don’t stop.” You moaned out, needing to feel that sweet sweet release. it was the way you moaned out his name, repeatedly like you were saying a prayer, he wasn’t going to stop until you came. He pulled you closer to his face, harshly and showed you that he truly wasn’t planning on stopping. 

The coil in your stomach quickly burst, making your hips buck as you tried to pull away from him. The whines coming out of your mouth were music to his ears as he continued to lick over your core, lapping up every bit of your juices that he could and finally pulling away. 

You looked at him as he sat on his heels again, lower part of his face glistening with your juices and breathing heavily. “Did that also get taught to you from your life before this?” You asked, sitting up to undo his pants. His arms hung at his sides and he simply let you do it for him. “Actually, I’ve never done that before.” Mingi admitted, making your actions halt. It felt entirely too good for it to have been his first time. You raised an eyebrow at him before pushing him back, making him lay on the ground. 

“I feel like you’re lying to me.” You said, tugging his pants down and watching his cock spring up. “I don’t lie.” He said and you shook your head. You straddled him, your core right over his and you braced your hands on his chest. “All men lie.” You whispered, leaning down and placing a quick kiss on his lips. His hands moved to your ass and helped you sink down onto him. “I like to think I’m not like all men. Especially not what you’re used too” He groaned, finally being enveloped in you. You took a moment to let your body adjust to his, breathing through the stretch and feeling a warmth in your chest as his fingers laced with yours. It was a comforting action, to distract you from the discomfort however slight it was. Maybe Mingi wasn’t like all men. 

You raised his hands over his head, pinning them there with your own as you started raising your hips. Allowing yourself to bounce on him, you felt so incredibly full. Filling you up completely and making your legs shake slightly but you put that to the side. It felt too good to stop. 

Mingi was even more convinced than before that you were made for him with the way you squeezed him. You released his hands and placed yours back on his chest, needing more support as you continued to ride him. He was hitting that sweet spot inside of you with every little bit he raised his hips to meet your thrusts. 

“You feel so good.” Mingi moaned out, hands pulling your chest flush against his. he planted his feet on the ground, fucking up into you and taking over. He was chasing his own high, needing a harsher pace and leaving you stuttering. 

You watched his face, from his shut eyes to his clenched jaw. That alone was almost enough to make you orgasm again. You kissed his lips to hide your moans as you felt them getting louder, his crew still being only a small distance away. He kissed you in return as his own stomach filled with warmth. He was so close to release and just needed that little bit to send you both over the edge. Your hand found his hair once more, tugging it in response to a harsh thrust and that did it. His hips stuttered and deep groans left his lips as he planted himself deep inside of you. Orgasm coating your walls and sending you over the edge with him. 

You lay there ontop of him, feeling incredibly full as he stroked your hair. “You are different from most men.” You mumbled softly, feeling a wave guilt come through you. “Most men don’t care the way you do.” Your words shrunk in volume even more, guilt and shame taking over you. Maybe it was guilt over your past actions, the men you had dragged to the bottom of the ocean, maybe it was about what you were going to do. 

Mingi helped you get off of him, watching you lay down next to him. You rested your head on his chest and he stroked your hair. The few times he had been with someone this way, yes they had been special. But nothing quite like this, Mingi was overwhelmed with love. 

“Y/N?” His tone sounded questioning, almost as unsure as the first night he had met you. “I think I might be in love with you.” He confessed, the feeling in his chest no longer being contained. He really couldn’t help himself, the last few days had been filled with you. Not just physically, but you were in his heart. You were speechless at his words, the guilt now eating you alive. 

“Come with me.” You said, pushing yourself off of the ground. Mingi couldn’t care anymore, not if you were completely bare or if he was. No, he only knew he would follow you anywhere. 

“Where are we going?” He asked, as you lead him towards the lake. “I feel sticky, I want to go for a swim.” You told him, hardly being able to look him in the eyes anymore. “Join me.” You added on, holding his hand gently, you stood before the water together.

 “Hey.” Mingi said softly, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks and make you look at him. You hadn’t even realised it, but tears were falling over your cheeks. “What’s wrong?” He asked, those beautiful brown eyes boring holes into your own. You had never felt this guilty before. “Nothing’s wrong...” Your voice trailed off and looked to his lips once more. You started walking forward, making him walk backwards towards the water. 

He stepped in slowly, leaning forward to kiss you as he did so. “Mingi... I love you too.” You admitted, deciding that that was where the guilt stemmed from. Mingi felt his chest get warm once more, not being used to this at all but wondering how your life together could be from this point on. 

He kissed you, harshly and you sighed into it before diving forward. You both fell into the water, lips still locked and you gripped his wrist. You needed to get rid of your guilt and now was better than any other time. 

Mingi wasn’t entirely aware of how far down into the lake you had pulled him. Your hand wrapped around his wrist as your silver tail brought you both down towards the bottom quickly. 

It wasn’t until it was already too late that Mingi realised that this was his dream. Down at the bottom of a lake, the moonlight shining down through the surface as Mingi felt absolutely weightless. You let him go and swam around him, watching him blink under the water as he watched you.

He started feeling himself go lightheaded, dizzy as his lungs started to burn. He was starting to realise that his dream wasn’t a dream, it was a warning and it was now too late. Feeling his vision go dark, the last thing he saw was that silver glimmer of your tail in the moonlight and your beautiful face. 

Despite being the thing that killed him, he still thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

A/N: Again please let me know what you think! This is quite different from what I normally write. There will most definitely be typos but please,ignore those lmao

[anotherwritersblog]

Title: Would You Believe Me?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 945

Warnings: alcohol consumption, utter fluff

Author's Note: Congrats again to @happygowriting for your milestone! Prompt is bolded I did have to switch it around for grammatical reasons. I hope you enjoy this little piece and I can’t wait for more challenges to come 💖 Mistakes are my own.

Any and all reblogs/likes/comments are appreciated.

In no way, shape, or form, do you have permission to repost this anywhere.

Divider by @happygowriting 💕

Date nights were always your favorite nights with your boyfriend. Before you moved in together, many a times they were your average ‘movie and dinner’ nights, or maybe competing in mini-golf or getting competitive in bowling. But after a few years, and once the two of you decided to move in together, date nights had to get a little more creative and a little less expensive. Thankfully, social media came to the rescue.

You saw a TikTok once where a couple would do an at-home ‘movie and dinner’, but it was Disney inspired. This means that you two would make a dinner based on whatever movie you would watch that night. Tonight happened to be The Little Mermaid.

Bucky helped with the main dish of salmon and crab.

“RIP Sebastian,” you teared up, while he just rolled his eyes at you. You giggled and got the shrimp appetizer ready and the macaroons finished up. Afterwards, you pulled out your go to bottle of wine and got the glasses ready. You had found a drinking game online earlier in the day, hoping to make the movie more engaging, more so for Bucky than you. You enjoyed Disney movies, but it’s taken some time for him to warm up to them.

But boy, did the game help.

Some of the rules were fairly simple.

‘Take a drink every time Ariel picks up a human item she doesn’t understand.’

‘Take a drink every time Flounder is visibly scared.’

At least it was simple enough until you had to ‘Take a drink every time you hear the phrase “Under the Sea”.’

You didn’t realize that phrase was said nineteen times in the song alone. So to say you were past being tipsy at this point was an understatement.

Bucky, being the responsible one, replaced your glass of wine with a glass of water about when “Kiss the Girl” came on screen, but still enjoyed your commentary throughout the rest of the movie. By the time the credits were rolling, you were going off and speaking your mind not that he ever complained when you did.

“How could she do something so irresponsible like that? She knew the guy for like three days and she couldn’t even talk to him and isn’t she supposed to be like sixteen or something? How could Triton let her get married to some random human? I bet she didn’t even know his favorite color or if he snored at night or his shoe size!” You were pacing back and forth in front of Bucky, while he stifled his laughter. He knew you were going to feel the repercussions in the morning, but he couldn’t help but enjoy your company when you went on rants like this.

“Okay. Hear me out. What if it was love at first sight?” Bucky questioned, taking a sip of his own water.

You stopped in your tracks and glanced back at him. “There’s no way. That’s only a myth. I bet it took you months before you realized how much you actually liked me.” Hands crossed against your chest, you eye the handsome man on your couch.

You noticed the lopsided smile grow on his face, as his hands reached out to you. You made your way to his bubble, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you.

“Would you believe me if I said that I knew you were the one for me when I first saw your face?” He kissed your cheek, followed by the tip of your nose.

Your brow furrowed as you tried to remember the first time you and Bucky had met.

“Didn’t you first see me when you walked into the bathroom and I was passed out in Nat’s lap at Steve’s birthday bash all those years ago?”

You felt the laughter rumble beneath you as he pulled you in closer. “Is that what she told you happened? If we’re going to get all technical, I first saw you when I walked into his living room and you were cracking jokes with Nat earlier that night. I don’t know what you two were talking about but when I saw you and that beautiful smile of yours, I knew you were the one. You can even ask Steve. I told him later that night after everyone had left. ‘She’s the one.’ I mean. He was kinda skeptical too, and honestly, I thought you and Nat were together at the time because you were inseparable. That’s why it took me so long to make a move on you.”

You threw your head back with a loud laugh, and almost fell backwards into the couch. Thankfully, his arms were tight enough around you to keep you upright. “You thought Nat and I were together? I thought you and Sam were together! That’s why I never made a move on you!” Bucky joined in with his own laughter, filling the room with a joy you never knew until you had met him.

You smiled back at him, lacing your fingers behind his neck. “And to think, we could’ve gotten together a lot sooner if neither one of us thought the other was taken.”

He cupped your face with his metal hand, running his thumb across your cheek. “I believe things happen for a reason, and that they happen when they are supposed to.” You lean your forehead against his and close your eyes, with nothing but the good things he’s brought into your life popping up inside your mind.

“I’m just glad these things did happen, because you make me the happiest I’ve ever been, Bucky, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

[yanderesmythos]

🎼Yandere! Apollo(General) Headcanon⚕:

Tw: Violence, implied dub-con, delusions, mention of flaying, slight nsfw, toxic relationship, curses.

Ah, Apollo is known to be attracted to those that represent beauty. So when he got the gist of rumor spreading through the island of Kythira, that a young maiden has a mellifluous voice and an equally divine figure. He declared that he had to investigate, to make sure the rumours are true.

Thus, the blond god decided to pay a visit to meet the cryptic maiden; that had lit the flames of his curiosity as if it was the flames of Olympus* itself!

Before he descends to the village, Apollo disguised himself as man in his mid-thirties that have a flowing chocolate locks for tresses and stubbles beneath his chin. ' Now, to find the μούσα* of this village.'

The first thing that came to his mind, is that to search for her in the fields of flowers. Alas, he didn't find her which made him the more so frustrated. Were those rumours a mockery, just to taunt him for every lover he had met a tragic end?* If so, how dare they!

Yet, a kind gentlemen has came his way and saw the impatient expression painting Apollo's face. 'χαῖρε*, friend! I saw you were troubled, that's why I am here to help. As far as I am concerned, you're here to meet the allegedly fair maiden of our village. If you want to her, then head to the south east of chora. You'll find her humming a hymn and playing with animals, and Ὑγιαίνε!*'.

Before, he could give his blessing and gratitude to the man. The individual vanished into thin air as if he never existed. Nonetheless a smile tore Apollo's face, as he began heading to the place that stranger told him to go.

When he arrived to the location, his breath was hitched by not the beauty of place. But, with the woman in a flowy white dress who was singing her heart out. His heart was thumping so hard, that he feared that it may stop thanks to the woman in a simple village dress. It seems that the rumours were not an empty gossip, after all. Oh, did he finally 'meet' his muse and he won't let what occured to his past lovers happen to you!

Apollo is obsessive, clingy, delusional, and overwhelming-ly overprotective to the point of being overbearing. But, that's understandable when most of your lovers either wind up dead or turned into some kind of plant!

Apollo adores you immensely, so much that he will go as far as to defying you to his worshippers. Any mockery of you is akin of insulting him, which will steer his wrath. And his wrath isn't something to be taken so lightly, especially if his darling is involved.

It's a guarantee that Apollo will write poems, hymns*, and songs of praise for you. As well as, ensuring one of his devoted servants to sculpt you in the most pristine form and to be spread all through Greece. Then, he'll get rid of them* because he is the only one who has the right to appreciate s/o naked figure. 'What a fair woman you are, my μούσα. How fortunate, for the sisters of fate had decided to bind us together. So, let's take advantage of it and create the masterpiece of our deathless love.'

In fear of your death, the first thing Apollo will do is to force the ambrosia* upon you. Whether be it you're willing, or kicking and screaming to be let go. He simply will ignore it, as he believes those are 'signals' indicating that you desire him as much as he desires you. 'Shhh, μούσα. No need to be afraid, after all we will be together forever. Aww, those tears of happiness has blessed my day. Now, let me return the favour in our private chamber.'

If you're were to be taken away from Apollo, or worse injured significantly. Then, those imbeciles must be prepared to accept their fates. Oh dear, it has been itching him for a while to use his bow and arrow! Or, maybe flay them for their discretion of his sacred beloved.

Plus, he may or may not consider cursing their homeland with a terminal illness to make an example out of any mortal who has any ill intention toward s/o.

On another notice, rejecting or escaping him won't effect the outcome. As he'll accumulate you one way or another, in addition you'll be punished severely for 'breaking' his fragile heart. But don't worry, he won't hurt you....that much.

If you happened to escape on your own accord, not only will you make Apollo upset but also Artemis for upsetting her twin brother. (In which case, I believe from this scenario Artemis would've developed platonic obsession. Mainly, that you make her brother happy and that you haven't been dead yet. And, for that she promised to protect you until her last breath. Not only for her brother, but for herself as it has been a while since she met a kind mortal.)

Then, you'll become the prey of both Apollo and Artemis hunting game. If Artemis was the one to catch you, then you'll be handed to the lovesick god as he begin to drown you in his hold. However, if Apollo was the one to catch her then the s/o must be in for an intense 'love' session. In both scenarios, you'll be handed to him. It's just his reaction, that will differ.

Oh, also don't even attempt to break Apollo's delusions of you. As he will become a horrendous individual to meddle with, if he ever become lucid. And, the punishments will be amped to mind-shattering level. So try not to tread on his delusions, and you'll be safe for the most part. The more you escape, the more he'll be aware. Thus, he'll slowly become lucid. Oh, and just because he's lucid doesn't mean that he'll give up his beloved. NO! he'll be more persistent and bitter in his approach than his deluded state which is more softer and sweeter than any honey.

Anyways, one of his favored hobbies is to enact your and his fantasies with you. He can't help, but gushes at your flushed and drooling visage as he overstimulates your genital. 'Ahh, you're so.... dazzling especially with that flustered expression upon your face. Oh? You want more? Ask and you shall receive. No need to be shy with me, my βασίλισσα*.'

Anyways, as long as you play your cards right you might escape with your wits and sanity intact. But.....at the cost of either becoming the most dreaded immortal or cursed so no one can love you, but Apollo himself.

In which case, the isolation and ostracizion from the mortals will most likely drive you to return to him. 'Ah looks like you've learnt your lesson, κακῶς κόρην*. I forgive you now, so come into my warm embrace.'

Notes:

* Flame of Olympus: Here, I was referencing the myth of the first flame that Prometheus gave to humanity. Leading him, to be punished by Zeus.

* μούσα: Muse in greek.

* Tragic end: Poor Apollo. Each time he loves someone, they die or turn to plants. First, Daphne(turned into a Laurel tree) then Hyacinth(turned into Larkspur flower) then Cassandra(cursed for the rest of her life with the misfortune of no one believing her oracles). The last one, was a prickly act from Apollo ngl. But, then again there is no one right in the mythos. Everyone must've done something shitty for petty reasons with few exclusions (hestia/hades).

*χαῖρε: Hello in ancient greek.

*Ὑγιαίνε: Good luck in ancient greek.

*Hymns: are songs of praises towards a deity.

*then he'll get rid of them: you'll ask why would he spread sculptures of you around Greece, yet will punish anyone who worships it. Simply, because that's called hypocrisy and boy there is alot of it in the mythology. *Cough* Zeus *Cough*

*Ambrosia: Called 'the food of the gods', it is guaranteed to make any mortal into immortal.

* βασίλισσα: Queen in ancient greek.

*The first one to answer this will get a cookie from me: Who was the mysterious man that spoke with Apollo?

A/n: I apologize for uploading late, as I am busy with studying for my finals. Lastly, I hope you enjoyed this and thanks for requesting! Take care!

[fvrxdrm]

The Start of a New World - NSFW (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Pairing: Werewolf!Leon x F!Reader

Warning(s): Mentions of werewolf sex, breeding kink

*****

There was a myth, a legend that surrounded the kingdom somewhere in the seven seas. It was no human nor was it an animal, they said; it was a monster. It bore no mercy for those who stepped foot in its domain and those who bore witness to its feral eyes shall see the last of the soaring moon.

Twisted, broken, and begrudged it was. Its vendetta for its fallen clan hardened its youthful heart and those who spilled the blood of its family shall never see the rise of the morning sun ever again.

How cruel they were, those who thought unjustly of them.

How brutish they were, those who shattered their peace.

They were the monsters of their own land and it was only just that their ferocity should go awry.

Its mate was a mere human whose heart was pure and whose beauty was beyond compare: her gentle hair tumbled in the earth’s colors, her lips brought a brightness on every day, both in their perky hue and the sun-golden words she shone, her eyes in the early dawn were the dew, scattering the nascent rays, ever illuminating every soul; withered or not.

She’d caught the hearts of many but none of those carried the most unfeigned love she searched for. Every one of them fancied for her love solely because of her looks, some because of her power and riches, but never because of her, and her desires didn’t match those of theirs.

It was when the moon shone in the blackness of the sky with nothing to hide from the crowd did she find herself meandering through the woods, hoping to void her head from the voices making trouble inside. It was beautiful, she thought. Even in the darkness: the branches were dancing with the flow of the wind, and the rivers sang a silent song that could lull anyone to sleep; crickets were chirping about, and frogs were croaking as they hopped from one place to another. All she could think about was how the nature in front of her was both a dream and a nightmare.

However, unbeknownst to her, as she was wondering what the mystified eyes could see, the creature that the people feared was watching her with marveling golds whilst it hid its existence behind a bush. It was ready to pounce and feast on the intruder’s pristine flesh but somehow, something shed light from deep within its hardened heart. She was one of those pesky humans, it thought, but something told it that she was unlike the others. That she had a heart of gold nobody was deserving enough to possess. And so, it let the hunger go and continued to scrutinize her from afar when the sun had long set.

This went on for days until they turned into weeks, and then into months, and until she found the wolf lying unconscious on the spot where she usually sat with blood pooling beneath its wounded leg. And being the angel that she was, she untangled the tie of her cotton hood and teared the end of the cloth before heading towards the river and soaking a small part of what remained of her hood. She came back not even a minute later and cleansed the lesion before wrapping what she ripped up with gentle hands.

Throughout the night, instead of focusing on the usual, she kept an eye on the injured wolf until she couldn’t bear keeping her eyes from snapping shut any longer and fell into a slumber against a tree nearby. Somewhere in the late night did the creature finally wake up. Its body was burning in agony and its limbs couldn’t even support it no matter how hard it tried due to the strong hits it took from defending itself from those who attempted to finish its kind which only consisted of the wolf alone. It whimpered and whined, and its eyes roamed around its form until they landed on a colored fabric that enclosed around its injury. The wolf was baffled, to say the least. It looked around for whoever took care of its wound and when the creature saw the very girl he admired, its eyes softened into a dreamy blue.

She took care of him. He knew she wasn’t one of them. She was different. She didn’t see him as a monster, she saw him as another living being, he thought. Surely she’d heard of the myth surrounding the forests and truthfully, she did. But she just thought it was ridiculous and her fellow townsfolk were just making up stories to scare their children from playing outside. Sure, wolves can be scary, but aren’t humans scarier? Animals kill to survive, but humans kill for either the same reason or for their own twisted thoughts’ sake. She had heard of what happened to the lycans a few years ago and she couldn’t blame the last wolf standing for his intentions. The wolf was just another being trying to live the life he should have.

Many months had passed and the girl would often visit the wolf during the night. She would often bring left-overs for him to eat and she would talk to him as if she knew he would understand the words she was saying. Every hello got more and more exciting, and every goodbye got more and more painful, and before she knew it, she was falling for him.

For the normal people, it was weird and unusual for their own kind to be besotted with a being so contrasting to them, but for her, it felt like it was something common, something not alien. She thought about it for a second but then she realized, if this was the definition of humanity, something so full of distress and chaos and misunderstanding, then, she doesn’t want to be a part of it. Fuck the double-standard mentality, fuck injustice, fuck beliefs, fuck them. She was somebody who aspired more than this and she deserved better than this. So, she’s going to listen to her instincts and go towards her own direction. The heart wants what it wants, after all.

And so, that’s how she found herself laying on the ground, bare against the air, with a bundle of fur serving as a furnace on top of her as the wolf licked her skin where hills formed. Her eyes were closed in gratification, the creature pounding her walls with a dick so big and satisfying. He had marked her, and now he was going to make sure she would be filled with his little pups. They would be playing in the grass, eat the food they needed and wanted, and he would make sure all humans were to be killed if they did dare make a move on his children…their children. She was his as he was hers and nobody, not even the devils of the world, could tear them apart.

There was a myth, a legend that surrounded the kingdom somewhere in the seven seas. It was no human nor was it an animal, they said; it was a monster. It bore no mercy for those who stepped foot in its domain and those who bore witness to its feral eyes shall see the last of the soaring moon.

Twisted, broken, and begrudged it was. Its vendetta for its fallen clan hardened its youthful heart and those who spilled the blood of its family shall never see the rise of the morning sun ever again.

How cruel they were, those who thought unjustly of them.

How brutish they were, those who shattered their peace.

They were the monsters of their own land and it was only just that their ferocity should go awry.

Its mate was a mere human whose heart was pure and whose beauty was beyond compare: her gentle hair tumbled in the earth’s colors, her lips brought a brightness on every day, both in their perky hue and the sun-golden words she shone, her eyes in the early dawn were the dew, scattering the nascent rays, ever illuminating every soul; withered or not.

Their children were the start of an evolution and all lycan families were now at peace.

“I’m gonna name you...Leon.”

 *****

@lunarastrobabe​ @wesker-stan​

[awlumii]

So basically this au is sort of a forbidden love/ reincarnation au style thing, and Cyno is this mysterious, powerful sorcerer who practices dark arts living in this dark, creepy woods outside your town, who is basically a folktale to the villagers. You’re basically the village healer who dabbles in magic to find cures to diseases and help nurse your people. It’s got a soft worldbuilding/ magic system style about it and focuses on atmosphere rather than structure to the worldbuilding (one reason being because I’m lazy and another being I genuinely love soft worldbuilding.)

Now, get ready for a lore dump:

Basically, a few centuries or millennia ago, you and Cyno were a couple (you still being a healer and him being a wizard but not a sorcerer— in this au, the word ‘sorcerer’ specifically comes with connotations of practicing dark magic), living together pretty happily: your standard fairytale romance.

One day, some disaster struck, and you were killed in this event. Cyno pleaded with the gods to bring you back to life, but they refused, claiming that it was not in their power to decide these things nor give them to him. Unable to accept this, he started turning to forbidden magic: pulling stars from the sky to demand answers, capturing sprites and spirits and harnessing their pure forms of magic to try and find a way to bring you back.

As he practiced such things, he grew increasingly powerful and one may even say corrupt, focused singlemindedly on his goal to bring you back from the grave. However, he was meddling with affairs and reaching levels of power a human never should, and so the gods told him to stop, giving him one chance to go back to his old ways of life and forget about you. He refused, and when one god tried to force him to stop, he managed to overpower them, which shocked the heavens even further: he literally had the power to rival a god, and win. After leaving, Cyno continued to practice these arts, either not noticing or not caring the harm he was causing to his surroundings. He lost himself in his desire to bring you back, even losing his heart itself, until all that remained in his chest was an empty, gaping void. (He’s not evil: he just went too far and crossed too many lines, and now is paying the price for his mistakes.)

Eventually, the gods decided that he was too dangerous, and had to be punished. Working together, they stripped him of most of his powers (though by human standards, he is still insanely powerful) and cast him down to the woods: a dark, mysterious forest with labyrinthine paths and twisting, maze-like trees and palpable, black shadows. They gave him a lantern which could only be filled with the light of a star— something difficult to come by in a land with an empty sky— and shackled him to the woods with a little chime around his ankle, filled with the songs of the spirits he harnessed beforehand. This was to be his prison for all of eternity.

Ever since, he has been wondering the woods alone with his star and his chime, and myths of a malevolent, mysterious, not-to-be-trusted sorcerer have spread around local areas, though these myths are very vague and don’t really tell listeners anything other than ‘don’t go into the woods and if you run into him, or you’re screwed.’

The gods weren’t done yet with him, however: to add salt to the wound, they decided they would bring you back after all, but he wouldn’t know it was the same you from the past: every time he saw you, if he ever did, he would be reminded of the old you, and his empty chest would sting at the memories of those happy days spent by your side long gone by.

Fast forward, and as I said, you’re a healer in your village. A disease breaks out (I’ll get to this in more later) and you go to gather some herbs and flowers to try and combat it, including this one type of flower that grows on the borders of the forest and the woods. Because of your fatigue, you end up stumbling into the woods, and get lost. Cyno shows up and leads you back to the forest (because you remind him of somebody he knew long ago), after which you leave some flowers for him as a thank you.

That’s all I’ve properly written so far, but worry not: there is more to ramble about.

In the next chapter (spoilers ahead for anyone who’s already read the first few parts), I’m thinking that you keep leaving flowers for him now and again, meanwhile the disease is getting worse and more people are being infected. You possibly catch it yourself, and when you next leave a few flowers for Cyno, he leaves a batch of berries back.

But these are no ordinary berries, because I found a way to make them angsty.

Basically, because you were a healer in your old life, the same disease broke out while you were still alive, and together you cultivated a berry to cure it. Cyno found a way to grow these in his garden in the woods as a memento of something he did with you in the past. When you leave that bunch of flowers in the present, he recognises the symptoms and decides (again based on the fact that you simply remind him of the old you) to give you a few berries to help you and your village out. It makes him feel like he’s sharing something with you again (and he is: he’s just cursed so that he’ll never know it.)

And the taste of the berries is quite literally bittersweet: they used to be sweet when you grew them together in the past, but since your death and his banishment, Cyno has found that the soil in the woods is not fertile, and so the berries, though still initially sweet, take on a bitter aftertaste: not too far off the main emotions of the story.

I also have some more ideas for future plot threads but I have a little too many, so I need to organise my thoughts before continuing…

The whole forbidden love thing comes from not the gods disliking you falling back in love, but rather that Cyno himself won’t allow himself to fall in love with you because he’ll feel like he’s betraying the old you, not knowing that you’re basically exactly the same person. (More angst: yay!)

The woods itself is very mysterious, and I’ll keep it that way, I think: nobody, not even the gods, know where it came from, or what lives inside it, or how old it is: the woods is actually out of the gods’ reach to manipulate. They can stick Cyno in there, but once he’s in, whatever happens in there is out of their control.

I really want to write a scene where he captures a star for you and gifts it to you, too… I have plans for it and oh my goskskaoaolana

(I can send you a few links to the stuff I’ve already written for it if you’re interested… :,))

…Apologies for the essay but I cannot express how much I love this au…

-🎻anon

dawg you had me at worldbuilding, i am so fucking intrigued by this, WHAT

the way cyno can overpower a god and the ambiguity of the forest is so fucking amazing — it reminds me a little of greek/roman mythology and the way that the gods of the pantheon seem to be all-powerful, but not even they can toy with things such as fate... this au has me fucking stimming i'm so djhdsidhsvdjsbd AAAAA YOU'RE SO AMAZING YOU'RE LITERALLY THE FUCKING COOLEST EVER

[hoe-doroki]

passing the night stars

banner by @dymphnasprose​

warning: reader has social anxiety

pairing: shinsou x reader (platonic or romantic)

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 3.2k

summary: The party was neon and you needed darkness.

a/n: this is a gift for my SiL’s birthday today! To any astronomy nerds: I tried and I’m sorry.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

There was something to be said about distance.

It was a buffer, quieting every voice, external and internal, until the only one left was that of the crickets singing over the lo-fi spilling out of the house behind you. You’d stepped away from the party long enough ago that the playlist had started over many songs back—you had no clue how many anymore. The distance turned the music’s thrumming into a quiet melody, the lyrics just as indistinguishable up close as here in the backyard, sitting on patio furniture that rocked lopsidedly in the grass.

Any filter would do, though. Anything that could soften the world just a little around its loud, coarse edges. The ice in your peach-flavored hurricane melting so that the drink was a little less saccharine. The rum casting a film over your mood, keeping your loneliness from dropping you into total dolor. The slight late-night breeze blowing the smoke from the fire pit away from you so that the acrid smell was stronger on the hood of your black sweatshirt than the air. It all muddled your emotions, numbing the buzzing overwhelm of the party to an anxious hum. The party had been neon, and out here you had a bit more darkness.

Without these buffers absorbing some of the furor, you might have escaped the party hours ago. Snuck out while the thing was still in full thrall, before social anxiety could hiss over your bones. Got out while you were ahead. Instead, you’d lasted as long as you could before out to the backyard with the near-dead fire, wracked with guilt at the prospect of leaving without saying goodbye, while too nervous to actually draw the attention to yourself necessary to actually say goodbye.

That wasn’t to say you hadn’t held up for a good while, though. You’d hung out with your friends when the fire had just gotten started and then when the party had moved indoors for drinking games and edibles. You’d hovered on the border as your friends grew more interested in dancing in drunken delay to the somniferous lo-fi beat than conversation. Then the itching had started in your brain, and before you knew it, you were out here, social battery drained dry, waiting for an indefinite future in which you could find the energy to escape.

You shivered as footsteps swiped through the grass, crickets chirping at the intruder.

“Did I surprise you?” Shinsou asked, his voice deep from booze or smoke or both. Or, maybe he was just tired, you figured, as the harsh light of the fire sharpened the bags under his eyes into dark creases.

“Breeze,” you mumbled, goosebumps rising on your wrists, standing the fine hairs on end. Only a few licks of heat from the pit were touching your knees, leaving the rest of you cold in your threadbare sweatshirt as the fire shrank smaller and smaller.

Shinsou had a blanket in his arms, ratty and certainly stolen from the back of the living room couch. He blinked at you for a second before he asked, “Can I join you?”

His voice was deadpan. Between the two of you, there was no real vocal inflection to speak of. Still, you shrugged one shoulder and said, “Sure.”

You stiffened when, instead of choosing one of the many other patio chairs or foldable camping chairs forming a friendly circle around the fire, he joined you on your bench, tossing a bit of blanket over your knees. You hardly realized you were staring at him until he said, “You’re cold, right?”

“Oh, yeah, a little,” you said, tucking your knees up to your chin and curling the scrap of blanket around your arms.

The blanket was raggedy in your hands, pilled on the hem, but warm from being indoors with all the dancing bodies. Plus, clinging onto it, running your thumb over the uneven texture gave you something to focus on instead of Shinsou’s body so close to yours.

Your senses were tingling, raw at having someone nearby again. It was too soon—you still didn’t have anything to say, no defense for why you’d dropped off from the party without a word.

But, on the other hand, being alone wasn’t fixing you either. Parts of your brain were still coiled taut as compression springs, and while they weren’t getting any tighter, they weren’t quite loosening yet either. It was rest, not recovery.

Abruptly—was it abrupt, or were you that zoned out?—Shinsou touched the back of his hand to yours, nearly making you flinch as he furrowed his brows at you. “How long have you been out here?” he asked, shifting towards you and pushing more of the blanket into your lap.

“Oh, um—” maybe a half an hour, maybe more, “—not that long.”

For that flash of contact, his skin had been hot against yours, so you could only imagine how cold your hands had felt to him. Your icy drink was probably mostly to blame, but you were also suddenly aware of how your shoulders were hunched nearly to your ears, your arms clenched to your sides like your chest might warm them. You piled the blanket a little more over your knees and one shoulder, only the hand holding your drink poking out.

“Hard being on the fringes,” he mused as he took a sip from a can. Possibly seltzer, probably beer.

You mirrored, tasting your own drink. It was really mostly water by now, though you were sure it was still painting your tongue orange.

Shinsou’s situation wasn’t much different than yours. Everyone in that house was old classmates. Shinsou was too, but he’d come late. Not too late to be friends, but late enough that it mattered. You were even later—not a classmate, but a post-high school roommate. You’d both landed on the side of Kaminari’s friend group, but neither of you were the core of it. The heart of it. That, for reasons you couldn’t quite understand, was Bakugou.

For some reason, you and Shinsou had never talked about this before.

“Hard being in a group big enough for there to be a fringe.”

Because, of course, it wasn’t just the Bakusquad here today. The majority of the old 3-A was here, those who weren’t on duty or suffering with early morning duty tomorrow. Enough people to certainly cause a ruckus and maybe a noise complaint that even pro heroes wouldn’t get out of.

“Touché”

The two of you fell into silence, and you couldn’t help but wonder exactly what had drawn Shinsou from the party. Even if he didn’t feel he was the most popular guy in the room, you’d seen the way he had the ability to talk to everyone. You weren’t sure if it was a product of his quirk or what, but he was able to start a conversation with everyone he met. He didn’t seem shy or anxious in the least.

Then again, that was just what he presented. You knew from that what you put forth in public wasn’t necessarily in line with what you were feeling.

It was hard to be the introvert around a group like yours. Worse—it was noticeable. This wasn’t the first time you’d stumbled away from a party, mind half gone not on alcohol or weed but on the sudden assault of attention, loud voices, and talk of hero work. Being one of the only non-heroes in the room was exhausting, and maybe that’s why you’d had to escape. Or maybe there never was a reason, good or otherwise, and you were just here because of your stupid self.

“Clear night,” Shinsou commented, “Don’t get to see much of the stars in the city.”

You looked up, a bright spot in the center of your vision from where you’d been staring into the fire. Almost everyone in your group lived in the city, not too far from each other, depending on your definition of the word. But those with quirks better suited outside the city, like Tsuyu and Koda, had moved out of town post graduation, granting the rest of you access to a night in the suburbs like this.

The truth was, you hardly looked up at the sky in the city. Tourists were always looking up, eyes glinting off the skyscrapers and billboards. But natives were always looking down, too aware of the fact that other natives didn’t always clean up after their dogs and, with so little grass, the sidewalk often needed a close eye kept to it.

But here, it was pretty. Not the smog-stained brown you were used to, but deep blue and twinkling with infinite pinpricks.

“Mm,” you hummed, taking another sip of your watery drink. “You’re right.”

“There’s Cassiopeia,” he said, pointing just over the tree line.

You followed his finger, unsure quite of what you were looking at. The stars hardly looked like clusters to you, especially on a night like this where you could see so many. It was more a broad network of them, either all connected or all individual. All the stars or just a star.

“You know constellations?” you asked, ears latching onto something that finally wasn’t hero related. Truth be told, you probably knew less about stars than you did about hero work but it was less alienating. You could lean into it.

“Some,” he offered. “Cassiopeia is a basic one.”

“Where is it?”

Shinsou glanced at you, leaning in closer so that his finger could match your gaze. You shoulders knocked and you could feel his wild hair against your own. His finger traced down and up, down and up in a cockeyed W. “Cassiopeia, mother of Andromeda.”

“She’s a woman?”

It was any wonder that ancient people had looked into the night sky and seen things like rams and bulls, creating a whole woman out of a few diagonal lines. Still, you listened to Shinsou, his low voice rumbling into your tired bones as he began.

“A beautiful woman,” he answered. “In Greek myth, she thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her boastfulness made Poseidon angry, so he created a sea monster that Andromeda was sacrificed to. Andromeda was left to await her fate when Perseus, who had just killed Medusa, used Medusa’s head to turn the sea monster to stone. After saving Andromeda, the two of them got married, and when they died, they both became constellations alongside Cassiopeia.”

Shinsou’s voice was husky and even as he told the story. The cadences were easy drops, landing you softly before he started up again with his next thought. It was a voice you could be rocked by, a voice you could be held by.

“Do you know where they are too?”

“Just below,” Shinsou said. “Probably come up just in time for the sun to make them invisible.”

“That’s too bad,” you said, curling deeper into the blanket, curling so that on shoulder leaned more onto the bench than the other. You head was almost resting on Shinsou’s shoulder and you could feel his warmth radiating in the cold night. “How do you know all this?”

Shinsou was quiet for a second and your nerves spiked again. You hadn’t even felt them relax, but suddenly your anxiety was scratching again, wondering if you’d misspoke. Or maybe you’d whispered it and he just hadn’t heard you? Before you could decide whether to say it again or apologize, though, he let out a sigh that jostled the blanket.

“Jack of all trades, master of none,” he said by way of explanation.

You cocked your head. Perhaps it was just a good hobby for an insomniac, but you were unsure about the evasiveness. “Did you have to learn a lot for general studies? Or to get in to U.A.?”

“…Yeah.”

You could only imagine. U.A. was an incredibly competitive school for heroes, but that was a specialized course. For general studies you didn’t need to have the physical prowess or the other particular skills that came with heroics, but you had to be an ace in school. It was no small feat to get into general studies, especially while you were trying to pursue something else. You were satisfied with that, ready to let it go and return to the near silence of the crickets and the fire popping, when Shinsou suddenly continued.

“When it looked like my plans to become a hero wouldn’t pan out,” Shinsou began, his words slow, tired, “my parents encouraged me into any and all other interests. None stuck.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, the personal admission taking you aback.

For all the times you’d seen Shinsou talk effortlessly with people in a room, you weren’t sure how personal or vulnerable you’d ever seen him. He seemed comfortable enough probing other people, but this was new. It made the space between you suddenly seem private—so different from the party you’d escaped from. You could still hear the ambient noises of a couple dozen people in there having a good time, but it was suddenly a world away.

“I’m sorry, Shinsou,” you said, brows furrowing as you glanced his eyes, still gazing up at the stars. His parents had probably thought they were being supportive, but it wasn’t the support he’d desired.

“It is what it is,” he said. “It worked out in the end.”

There was the smallest smile on his face at that, barely betraying what must have been true joy at having a dream slip through his fingers only to fly back to him. And he’d earned every bit of it, even if he wanted to keep it to himself.

“So now,” you began softly, “you just have a lot of little things that you can offer people. The little things you could have been. That’s not so bad, right?”

“No, it’s not so bad,” he agreed. “I always liked that story.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Japanese astronomy varies so much from region to region and is usually about more functional things. Harvest, seasons. But these other myths about people with no chance of being heroes becoming ones anyway…”

He trailed off, but the sentiment was there. Trapped in the things he’d done to try and leave heroism behind were little vestiges. The inescapable fact that he was meant to be a hero and would be one anyway, even if the world told him he was a villain, doomed for failure.

The stories had been true.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked, surprising you.

“Feeling better?”

“You’d been out here for over an hour,” Shinsou stated. “Your eyes were glassy and distant and you were freezing and you didn’t seem to notice.”

“Oh,” you intoned. You hadn’t realized it had been that long. You were sure it had only been half that time.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

“No, I’m fine,” you said truthfully. “I’m fine now.”

The anxiety from earlier that had been buzzing through you had kept you awake, all while thoroughly draining you. You’d hardly realized just how much until now, with your body not just feeling settled but heavy. The stress had run straight through you, and now you bore the fatigue.

Shinsou glanced down at you out of the corner of his eye. His brows raised and it lifted his whole face, making the dark circles under his eyes just a little less stark. “You look exhausted.”

“You always look exhausted,” you retorted, your first little grin curving along your lips.

In his surprise, Shinsou smiled too. “I know that. Here.”

Shinsou took your forgotten drink from your hand and set it down, then patted his shoulder.

“You should rest for a little while.”

Your eyes met his, searching for anything that looked like obligation or impatience. But there was none. Just a surprising amount of openness and a pretty shade of purple.

“Do you have more myths?”

Shinsou smiled and, once again, his gaze went up to the stars. As he started another tale, you snuggled onto his shoulder, the rest of your body drawing closer to his as well. He didn’t wait long to begin speaking, talking in more detail than he had before. There was no reason to be concerned that he might be boring you, or that you didn’t want to hear it. Really, these stories, these stars that had brought him even the tiniest speck of light were just what you needed too.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, and you weren’t sure when you woke up. But when you blinked your eyes awake, the first thing you noticed was that Cassiopeia hadn’t moved far. The second was the feeling of Shinsou’s head tilted against yours, his breath like gentle waves under you.

You shifted, signaling that you were awake, and Shinsou did too, his head lifting from yours. At some point, his arm had wrapped around you, encasing you in his warmth. He didn’t move it, not yet, as your body creaked and you forced yourself to sit up.

“How long?” you murmured, voice barely raspy with sleep.

“Not that long,” Shinsou answered, echoing your reply from earlier.

He didn’t look at his phone or a watch, and hadn’t since he’d come out, so you wondered if he had any clue. Or if it simply hadn’t felt long. Somehow, the idea that his time spent with you hadn’t felt long was a comfort, a relief.

“How are you feeling?”

You checked in, feeling that grogginess that always came in the wake of an intense mental episode. Your brain struggling to catch up and survey the backlash from its earlier antics. That would go away. It always did. “I’m good.”

Shinsou continued to look at you, switching between each eye, double checking your expression for any lie. But he must not have found any, for he leaned back into the bench and relaxed, that tiny ghost of a smile back on his face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, gazing out again. “You out here alone before? It had been…well, we were…I wanted to check on you.”

For the first time, Shinsou looked almost a little shy, and you couldn’t help but smile, touched. You put a hand on the shoulder that had just taken your weight and brought his gaze back to you. “Thank you.”

There actually was one thing you knew about stars. You’d heard that every light year a star was away from you was a year into the past you were seeing its light. Looking at the stars was looking millions of years into the past. Despite the fact that these selfsame stars connected you to humans around the world today and those of old, that filter of distance and time rendered them ancient, if not already gone.

But as you looked at Shinsou, their soft, silvery starlight illuminating one side while the last dancing coals of the fire glowed on the other, you were sure that this was the opposite. This wasn’t old or past or known to anyone but the two of you. This wasn’t the stars or even the stories inspired by them.

This was just beginning.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Long Lost Love // Part One (D.M.)

Summary: Two piles of twelve letters, hidden away in the bottom of a trunk, browning with age. Twenty-four letters in total, all addressed to him. 

A/N: This is my entry into @teheharrypotter‘s two weeks of angst! I just really want to take a moment and say that I am so proud of this fic and how it has come out, like ridiculously proud of it. I would really appreciate some feedback on this - reblogs and comments are so important. There is going to be a second part where all the love letters will be compiled into one long post. However, I think not giving too much away only adds to the suspense and angst. Also, the ending... I love it and I think you’ll all hate me for it.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: this is a lot of angst combined with hurt/comfort but there’s a lot of growth in Draco (I think?)

Word count: 5.4k

It had been fifteen years since the end of the second wizarding war; it had been fifteen years of healing and working on himself, of repenting for his family’s crimes during the war. Draco Malfoy had aged in that time; his hair had grown past his shoulders, tied back with a black leather hair tie, and there were lines on his face that had not been there when he was an eighteen year old running away from the castle he classed as his home.

He had lived a lifetime in those fifteen years. He had seen the world before training as a Healer; working his way up the ranks to become head of the emergency department of the only wizarding hospital within Britain. He had trained Healer after Healer; many of them going off to establish clinics in their own community, all of them sending cards at Christmas, regaling him of their successes.

Draco had lived a lifetime. He lost his father first. Lucius had never truly recovered from his time in Azkaban, and though Draco had tried his hardest to form some semblance of a relationship with his father, Lucius had remained cruel until the end. Truthfully, Draco doesn’t want to think about what it was that killed him in the end. Whether it was the spite that had poisoned him for years, or whether it was something else. Draco doesn’t dwell on it; instead, he leaves white roses on his father’s grave every Sunday like any loving son would.

Narcissa hadn’t lasted long after Lucius passed. She had been distraught. Whilst Lucius was not a doting father, he was a doting husband and he adored Narcissa until his very last breath on this earth. To Draco, her tears started that day and didn’t stop until she passed away in her asleep. Her heart, the coroner said. She had died of a broken heart.

A feeling Draco knew only too well.

Despite achieving so much and traveling so far, he had only ever been in love once. There had only ever been one moment in his whole life that had been filled with the kind of love read about in books, sang about in songs, and played out in films. Draco had fallen in love with you when he was sixteen years old and entering what would be the darkest period of his life. To him, you had been the light in the dark. The answer to his constantly asked question: will there ever be a happy ending?

Nothing had ever happened; nothing could happen. You were the epitome of goodness; the very incarnate of its definition, and he… he was the opposite. In those days, his self-hatred ran so deep that he would argue he was the Hades of the story. Doomed forever to the underworld only to fall in love with the Goddess of Spring and hope for retribution that would never come.

However, in this version of their well-told myth, Hades and Persephone never fall into a relationship. In this version of events, feelings were known and reciprocated, but letters that pleaded for a chance either never arrived or were never answered.

So for fifteen years, Draco Malfoy has been working hard on repairing his family’s tattered reputation whilst coping with the depth-defying grief that comes with losing both parents within the span of a year as well as never truly dealing with the heart wrenching grief that accompanies a relationship that was never given the chance to bloom.

--------

It was a bright, clear day in the middle of March when Draco decided to clean out the attic. He had woken with the urge to clean; with the urge to organise his life and start to work through the piles of his parent’s belongings. He hadn’t been able to touch them in the beginning; the most he had been able to do was relocate everything to the attic and then shove the very thought to the back of his mind where it began to fester like an open wound.

Bright and clear was the day when Draco chose to enter the long forgotten attic in the Manor. Bright and clear was the day when he had to hold a handkerchief to his face to stave off the inevitable sneezes from the dust floating in the air.

Looking around the old and dusty attic, Draco takes in the first of the mess. Trunks line the wall; some ancient – locks worn down with time, almost rusted from their exile to the attic; others are much newer such as his parent’s belongings. Their trunks remain almost new; their initials still painted onto the lids in bright gold paint.

The majority of the morning is spent creating two piles; one to be thrown away, one to be donated. Expensive gowns and suits were to be donated. Anything that reminded Draco of his allegiance in the Second Wizarding War was to be thrown.

As he goes through the belongings of not just his parent’s, but also his grandparents, Draco begins to feel conflicted. With each addition to the bin pile, he feels lighter, he feels one less burden. However, he cannot help the guilt that unfurls in his stomach as he thinks of his mother’s kind face and her forever painted red lip.

By the time Draco makes it to his mother’s final trunk, he feels as if he has been in battle once more. Weariness hangs heavy over in shoulders, settling in his bones. His body slumped, not just from the tiredness from lifting heavy trunks and boxes, but from the emotional weight of memories freshly unleashed upon him.

Draco’s movements are slower as he opens the lid to this final trunk. He thinks back to the day he filled it; piling his mother’s correspondence and personal effects in here – separate from the clothes he knew he would one day get rid of. He slides his hands over the emerald green lid – a Slytherin till the day she died, Draco thinks as he smiles to himself.

At some point, he lets a few tears fall. It’s the sight of Narcissa’s handwriting, he realises. He hadn’t seen it in so long – not having received a birthday card or a Christmas present this year due to her death. Seeing her strong cursive brought tears to his eyes; he remembers being a child, sitting by her desk, watching her write away and wondering who on earth she could be talking to. If Draco focuses hard enough, he swears he can still smell the fresh ink drying on the parchment and the melted wax being pressed with Narcissa’s signet ring.

At the bottom of the trunk, Draco notices a latch. Frowning, he flips it open to reveal a false bottom hidden away. Uneasiness spreads through him, turning his stomach to lead as he reaches inside to feel two distinct piles.

The uneasiness turns to heavy anguish when Draco realises just what he is holding in his hands.

------

Two piles of twelve letters, hidden away in the bottom of a trunk, browning with age.

Twenty-four letters in total, all addressed to him.

They now sit on his kitchen counter; the ageing paper a stark contrast to the obsidian black of his counter top. Draco leans back in his chair, huffing out a long sigh, running a hand down his face as he does so. It had been fifteen years, but he would recognise your handwriting anywhere.

It had been fifteen years and he hadn’t had any contact with you. He wondered for so long why his letters had gone unanswered to the point where he stopped writing altogether, feeling the keen sting of rejection.

Fifteen years and he now had his answer.

Hidden away in a trunk; squirreled away in the hopes that he would never find them. The hope that he would forget about you and move on. He never had; he just kept his feelings silent, caging them up in his heart along with everything else he kept from his parents.

Anger surges through him. The first emotion he has felt since he opened that damned trunk.

He lets out a choked scream; the intensity of his anger surprising him as he slams a fist onto the counter top, wincing slightly from the pain now radiating up his right arm.

How dare they, he roars. How dare they keep this from him? How dare they keep you from him? Did you not fit their ideal – a pureblood from a well off family? Did you not meet their needs visually? Your hair perfect, your face just the same.

There was no good reason he could think of. Draco pads over to the bar, tucked away in the corner of the kitchen. There, he pours himself a knuckle’s length of the amber liquid, knocking it back with a hiss. The whiskey burns as it goes down; burns just like his emotions, like his anger.

Draco’s lip curls in distaste as he hears his father’s voice: a distraction, Draco, that’s all.

Lucius Malfoy had never uttered such words in Draco’s presence, but Draco was well aware of his father’s distaste of you.

Reading over his home address once again, Draco is hit with a sense of helplessness. He doesn’t know where to go from or what to do. He reads over your home address, neatly written in the top left hand corner of the envelope.

Sighing, he runs a hand down his face, still uncertain what his next move is going to be. He runs through the options in his head once, and out loud after.

To no-one in particular, he argues:

“I could reply. I could write a letter back, apologising for the absence of replies with a brief sentence or two about meeting up after so much time has passed.”

Draco waves that option away; his tongue too tied up to even think about coherently writing a letter out now. He moves onto option two:

“I could show up. I could apparate to the address right now, knock on the door and ask to speak to them.”

He shakes his head; immediately ridding himself of the idea. For starters, what if you had moved, and he finds himself knocking on the door of an unknown family? However, what if you still live there, and you answer the door? What is Draco to say to you then after such a long time apart?

He imagines the situation; forces himself into shoes that he could possibly be wearing in the near future. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Not a word, not a whisper, not an apology.

So he ignores option two.

Draco knows its cowardice that drives him to the third option, but to go fifteen years without a reply to a letter declaring love… it is too long of a time to expect any form of forgiveness, and he supposes that is what he is most afraid of. Draco’s terrified of not being worthy enough for your forgiveness.

So he goes with option three:

Do nothing.

------

Draco does the only thing that makes sense.

He takes the letters to work.

Draco slides the letters into his satchel, latching the buckle afterwards and taking a deep breath. Already, Draco feels the twenty four envelopes burning a hole through the soft, worn leather of his bag.

Their presence continues to haunt him: placing his bag in his locker and grabbing his lab coat, walking towards the admit desk where Martha – the head nurse – smiles at him before handing him a cup of coffee.

The emergency room is swamped. It is full to capacity with even more waiting in triage. They work as hard and as fast as they can, but it takes time to cure burns from potions and injuries from spells gone wrong.

It gets to the point where Draco needs to take a step back. He has to take a step back and re-evaluate. His personal life is shot; the love he had found at sixteen a dead end until this last weekend. His professional life is all that he has going for him, but on days like this, when he isn’t feeling entirely himself for the shock from the weekend, Draco does find himself being short with patients.

He escapes to the break room; the familiar bitter scent of coffee already relaxing the tense muscles in his shoulders. He settles into a chair at the rickety table, head in his hands as he takes a deep breath.

Draco represses the urge to cry. He pushes it down; deep, deep down inside him where he can deal with it another day. At this moment, all he wants is a hug from his mother and the age old promise that everything is going to be okay. It’s her fault’ it is Narcissa’s fault that he is like this.

That he is a husk of a man.

He feels like a therapist’s wet dream. Blaming his mother, his parents as the source of his problems, but he cannot help imagining how different his life would be if those letters had been delivered to his hands.

He would be with you. He would have given it all up for you.

His lineage; his inheritance; his name; the pureblood mania that infected his parents.

He would give it all up for you.

Fifteen years later and he would still give up every aspect of his life, every part of him that makes him him.

Draco would drop it all in a heartbeat for you.

“What’s gotten into you?” A feminine voice questions. Draco turns in his seat to see his closest friend and confidant, Alexandria Delphi, leaning against the door with a smile on her face.

He cannot help the smile that grows on his face at her presence. He shrugs, hoping he appears nonchalant, “What do you mean?”

Alexandria pushes herself off the door, coming to sit next to Draco at the old rickety table that has been at home in the break room since before time itself. She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at his obvious aversion. She gestures to his entire being, “I mean this. You’ve been off all day – not as attentive to patients, not your usual flirtatious self with the nurses which I know they are missing very much. What’s gotten into you, Draco?”

Draco sighs, knowing very well he could never hide anything from her. Alexandria and Draco had known each other since their first year of training; an unlikely friendship forming between them, but a friendship nonetheless. Thirteen years later, they had been working in the emergency department of St Mungo’s the longest – second only to Martha, the Head Nurse.

“I was cleaning out the attic over the weekend. Getting rid of some of my parent’s things.”

Alexandria frowns, reaching for Draco’s hand over the table. “You should have called me. I would have come and helped you; you shouldn’t have had to that alone.”

“I know,” Draco starts, running a hand down his face, “I know you would have but I think I needed to do it alone.”

Alexandria nods, releasing his hand at last and bringing it to the coffee mug sitting in front of her. Draco smiles at her before standing, opening his locker and grabbing the letters that call to him from his bag.

Sitting back down, he slides the two piles of letters in Alexandria’s direction, all the while saying, “I found these in my mother’s trunk. It had a false bottom, and they were sitting there.”

Her deep brown eyes widen, “How scandalous! They’re addressed to you?”

Draco nods, “When I was at Hogwarts, there was a girl.”

“Isn’t there always?” Alexandria quips, rolling her eyes at the dramatics of her colleague.

“Anyway,” Draco comments pointedly, “I was in love, or at least, I was as much in love as you can be when you’re sixteen years old. I still am, I think.

“Anyway, my parents didn’t approve of her; they never would so when war started brewing and I went home, I never imagined I would get letters. I never got letters. Turns out, she had been sending me letters all along and my parents had kept them hidden until now.”

“Bastards,” Alexandria spits; furious at people long dead.

“What do you think I should do?” Draco asks earnestly, his eyes never leaving the pile of letters.

“Have you read them?” Alexandria asks; her eyes fixed on the two sets of letters placed between them on the rickety table.

He shakes his head, refusing to meet Alexandria’s eyes, “I think I’m too scared.”

Alexandria smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She sighs, “You aren’t going to know what to do until you read them. Reading the letters should give you the answer you are looking for.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“When you made me Attending,” She quips, yet there is still no heart behind it – none of her usual heat that tends to come out when Draco baits her slightly. She shakes her head, standing from her seat with her coffee in her hand, “I want to see you back out there soon. I don’t care whether you’re the head of the department.”

He raise an eyebrow at her in challenge; she simply smirks. He shakes his head at her antics, already rising from his seat, “I’m on my way.”

“Good, I have plenty of patients for you to see.”

Draco doesn’t reply, he watches her leave with a fond smile on his face.

Alexandria leaves the break room. She leaves as it is the only way that Draco will not see the sorrow and the longing reflected in her eyes. Alexandria doesn’t let him see the jealousy over the letters; the very emotion gnawing away at the ever growing pit in her stomach, only making it deeper as she replays the story of Draco’s first and only love.

She remembers when she used to look forward to coming into work; to help those in need and be a source of comfort for those she couldn’t help. Now, she struggles to make it through the door with the knowledge that she has been in love with the same man for years and nothing had happened.

That’s the thing about loving someone who doesn’t love you back – it turns you into a ghost of your former self.

------

Draco finds himself reaching for the first letter in the pile on a Friday night in the middle of April. If he had to be honest with himself, it had taken him a whole month to work up the nerve to read them. Draco had come home after the conversation with Alexandria and dropped the letters on the side table where they have taunted him ever since.

He knows he isn’t in the right frame of mind to be reading them; a bad shift with too many deaths combined with the two half full tumblers of whiskey consumed creates the equation of self-destruction. However, Draco reminds himself, he’s had fifteen years of internal self-destruction – what’s one more night when you tear yourself down so regularly despite the accolades attached to your name?

Draco hesitates, holding the first of the twenty four letters in his hand. He hesitates; unsure as to whether he is ready to read the handwriting of someone whose notes through class not only made him happy, but hopeful.

Releasing a shuddering breath, he tears open the seal and begins to read.

------

The letters are not long. They aren’t pages and pages of eloquent syntax over your feelings for the blonde haired, cocky teenager he once was. The closer he gets to the end of the pile, the less is written as if you had grown tired of such an act and not getting a reply.

Draco keeps his favourite close to him. It’s tucked away in his inner coat pocket, on the left hand side close to his heart.

The letter has been with him a month now. A month of one letter being read and reread too many times a day; to the point where Draco is reciting it in his sleep. It’s creased beyond recognition, but he still takes the risk every day to take it out and read it.

He misses you. He misses you. He misses you.

Now, Draco unfolds the paper. He unfolds the paper and reads the opening line: do you remember that night in the greenhouse? Writes your neat handwriting; the letters perfectly formed on the now browning parchment.

How could he forget? Draco closes his eyes, letting himself fall into the memory perfumed with compost and night blooming evening primrose.

*****

“Name two purposes of Valerian Root.”

“To help someone sleep as well as to ease anxiety.”

“Very good,” You laugh, moving quietly between the rows and rows of plants. You turn to him suddenly, “What is one danger of Black Henbane?”

Draco pauses, eyes already searching for papery flower with spidery black veins. He finds it nestled towards the back of the greenhouse, hidden away from sight and away from the wandering hands of children. Draco follows you closely; remaining near you as he says, “As a member of the nightshade family, the plant can be toxic if used in large quantities.”

The sight of your smile takes his breath away. You rush to him; toothy grin and loud laughter as you nod your head. “Madame Pomfrey was right,” You splutter, “You’re going to make an incredible Healer, Draco Malfoy.”

He doesn’t need to see the blush to know it’s there; he can feel the heat creeping its way up his neck to his cheeks. “I don’t think I’ll get there if I don’t have you.”

A satisfied smile replaces the happy grin that was on your face only moments ago. It was as if you were waiting for those words to fall from his lips; the reassurance within those words spreading over your worry like a balm over a wound.

How many more nights would they get like this? How many more nights would they have together?

Somewhat foolishly, Draco hopes he has forever. He hopes he has an eternity and a day with you, but he can feel the changes in the air, and he knows it isn’t good. Draco can see the tension at home; more and more people arriving, each just as secretive as the last, and Draco suddenly knows he only has a short amount of time before he’s inducted into the same fanatic group as his parents.

He’s on limited days with you so he’ll take the nights.

He’ll take all the nights.

-------

The shoebox had remained untouched under his bed for years now. Draco had shoved it there in a fit of anger and despair and he hadn’t looked since.

Reaching for it now, Draco represses the growing anger directed at his parents. He ignores the growing resentment surrounding the fact that they hid your letters for years and never thought to whisper a word of it – not even on their death beds.

The shoebox has aged; not unlike himself, he thinks as he wipes the dust from the top. The thick layer drawing a sneeze from him before he can open the box.

It doesn’t matter how many years it has laid unwanted under his bed; it doesn’t matter how long it has remained there, untouched and not thought of – Draco, to this day, can still recount for every little thing in there.

Notes that have now turned brown with age; old photos where youthful faces glance up at him; a chocolate bar wrapper from Honeyduke’s.

They each line the bottom of the shoebox. Draco’s memories of you out there for him to finally confront, to see. He sinks down onto his childhood bed; almost blinded by the force of the wave of nostalgia washing over him, threatening to drown him with the strength of his memories.

The memories hadn’t plagued him for some time though you played on his mind constantly – even more so since the letters.

They’re silly memories, but memories, nonetheless. Ones that he adores; ones that he cherishes.

It was the letters that triggered this. The letters that have brought the ghosts back from where they had been hidden, haunting him quietly until now.

Draco runs a hand through the trinkets in the box. He smiles at them, thinking of Hogsmeade and how he had surprised you with a bar of your favourite chocolate. The grin on your face worth all the jibes from Crabbe and Goyle when he got back to the Slytherin common room that evening.

Draco falls back onto his childhood bed with a huff.

He has a decision to make, and he doesn’t know where to begin. He has a decision to make, and he doesn’t have the guidance he so desperately needs.

Draco wants to see you; he needs to see you, but what if you don’t want to see him?

----

“I heard you handed in your notice,” Draco states as a way of breaking the ice.

Her notice of leave had landed in his hands not even three hours ago. He had spent the time since in a panic; rushing about the hospital to find Alexandria and to question her, to find out why she would leave after so long.

Why she would leave him.

Alexandria nods, “I have. I leave in two weeks.”

“Why?” Draco all but demands, “You love this place.”

“You’re right,” Alexandria sighs, “I do.”

“Then why are you leaving?”

“Because I can’t do this anymore, Draco. I can’t sit here and listen to you talk about those letters and sigh dreamily, or date someone else. I can’t do it,” Her voice breaks, “So I won’t. I want a fresh start, so I’m going to get one.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“If I had known…”

“What? You’d have loved me?” Alexandria laughs mirthlessly, “Love me, Draco! Love me.”

“I can’t,” He whispers; the words the death knell to any scrap of friendship remaining.

Tears fall down her face, “And that’s why I have to go.”

She presses a kiss to his cheek; lingering for longer than what was probably good for her. When she pulls away, she can see the wetness of her tears on Draco’s cheek. “I hope you find her, Draco. You deserve a love story.”

-----

The cottage is small, but it is perfect. Ivy covered walls with a neat front garden; every inch showing the love and attention being paid to it. From the red roses that makes Draco think of his beloved mother to the intense scent of lavender that reminds Draco of the perfume you wore through Hogwarts. Looking up at the cottage, Draco realises that he had never seen a house look so much like a home.

He pauses at the gate; eyes focused on the bricks of the cottage and nowhere else. He doesn’t let the hope grow; he doesn’t let himself dream of what could happen. He’s thankful he has made it this far.

That he’s made it back to you.

The black gate creaks when Draco pushes it open. He winces at the noise, praying it doesn’t give him away and that you answer the door unexpectedly.

He needs this.

He needs the time.

It’s been fifteen years and since he found your letters months ago, he thought he would be ready by the time he found you.

Now Draco is thinking, perhaps he isn’t ready.

Will he ever be ready? He asks himself. Will he ever be ready to confront the very person he has been in love with since he was sixteen years old?

Draco doesn’t know; he doesn’t think he’ll ever know until he steps through the gate.

Draco’s hands shake as he rushes down the well-worn footpath to your dark brown front door. His hands continue to shake as he raises a single fist to knock on the door, three times.

He’s about to turn away; he’s about to walk away and never enter your life again. He will go away and never think of you again; of what could have been.

But then the lock clicks, and the handle moves.

“Hello?” A sweet voice calls out; your voice calls out.

“(Y/N)…” He breathes, and suddenly his nerves are gone and so is his worry. Suddenly, Draco is back at Hogwarts, the feel of your hand in his as he presses you into walls and steals kisses behind statues. He’s back to being sixteen years old and feeling the unrelenting agony of teenage love for the first time along with the merciless fear to do with the rising tensions.

“Draco,” You whisper, bringing a hand up to your mouth. Shock reflects in your eyes; your eyes that show no signs of aging other than the lines that are now forming in the corners.

Draco can’t help himself; he runs his eyes over your body, taking in the changes that becoming an adult has brought. It means nothing; he would love you regardless, but he cannot seem to help himself from drinking it all in.

From the realisation that he in fact stood in front of you.

You are there, and he is here with you.

“How have you been?” He asks; more out of politeness than anything else.

You shift awkwardly, “I’ve been good, Draco. How have you been?”

Draco nods, “I’ve been good too. I know you’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

You laugh, tucking yourself slightly behind the door, “That did cross my mind.”

He smiles; a large grin that he hasn’t felt on his face in a long, long time. Less than five minutes with you, and you’re already bringing out a side of him that Draco had long thought was extinct. He reaches into his coat, grabbing some of the letters that he keeps there. He holds them out to you, “I’ve only just found them.”

Audibly gasping, you instinctively reach for the letters. Your fingers brush Draco’s and he swears his heart skips a beat at the small touch. “I sent these years ago.”

Draco closes his eyes, “I know, and I cannot apologise enough to you for how long it has taken. I thought a reply in person would be better.”

Tears line your eyes as your fingers brush the worn paper; the crease marks more than evident from where Draco has folded and refolded the letter to read. “I always wondered what had happened…” You trail off, lifting your gaze from the letters to meet his eyes.

“My parents,” He whispers; voice pained. He takes a moment to collect himself, but you put a hand up to stop from saying anything else.

“I understand. You don’t need to explain more, Draco.”

“Thank you,” He replies, smiling softly. Then he launches into his tale, “I was cleaning out their belongings; cleaning in general really when I found a false bottom in my mother’s trunk. When I took it out, I found your letters… and I read them and reread them. I practically memorised them. I don’t think there are enough words in the English language to convey just how sorry I am.”

“Draco…”

“No, let me say this… please,” He whispers, adding on the last word for politeness. You fall silent, your eyes begging him not to say out loud what you know he is going to confess.

“Until the last star fades and we succumb to darkness, I shall love you. I have always loved you; from being a scared teenager to being a just as scared adult. My feelings haven’t changed. I’ve thought of nothing but you for fifteen years,” He pauses, drawing in a shuddering breath, “I love you.”

Silence falls over you both. Draco’s heart pounds in his chest as he watches the emotions flicker over your face in a pace he didn’t think was humanly possible. Acceptance, happiness, relief and then finally, sadness.

He furrows his brows; surely this would be a happy event no? Draco has tracked you down after a fifteen year absence. He has found his one true love at last, and now he stands before you wondering the cause of such sadness on your face and in your eyes.

“Draco…” You trail off, holding up your left hand, “I’m married.”

******

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[honourablejester]

Homebrew Dragon NPC

A little bit of a homebrew Ancient White Dragon NPC/Adventure Focus, based a bit on this post of mine, because I just really love white dragons, and I wanted to try my hand at using the DMG a bit:

THE LEGEND OF MIIRIKJILINTH, THE BONEMOTHER

In the great trackless North, in the Ocean of Ice underneath the Sea of Stars, the hunter-fisher peoples of the twilight ice relay the legends of the ancient dragon known as the Bonemother. Miirikjilinth, the Memory of the World. As old as the ice itself, as the ocean, she is the memory of the north. The record and the rhythm of all that has passed beneath that great wheel of stars. Nothing that has ever lived in that vast frozen realm has done so outside of her memory.

It is said that she lives in a vast floating mountain of ice in the far northern reaches of the world, where the sea and the sky intermingle, and the stars swim in a river of green light. There is never a permanent path to her home, for the Ocean of Ice moves like a living thing around it, and only by her grace and the paths drawn by her breath across the waters can anyone venture to her halls.

And many do venture. Each and every year. A hundred thousand pilgrims, from tribes all across the Ocean of Ice. On the last journey of their lives.

For she is the Memory of the World, the Keeper of Songs, and what lies collected in the great galleries of that frozen mountain is so much more than a dragon’s hoard.

It has been the custom of the peoples of the ice, for time almost without memory, to go out on one last hunt when they feel their youth and their strength begin to fade. Seeking not meat, now, nor fur, though neither will be wasted, but for bone. For a rib of whalebone or a plaque or horn of ivory, on which to carve the story of their lives, to mark out their song. It is the ritual of passing. For those who have died suddenly, those who have been lost, their friends or families must carve one in their stead, and only those who have been heinous beyond measure would be allowed to pass from the world with no bone to mark their song.

Then, when they feel the time is right, those who have determined to pass go north. Across the ocean, across the ice, following the river of stars, and the paths of whales, and the frozen roads traced across the waves by the Bonemother’s own breath. Until at last they come to the Mountain of Ice, and She That Is The Memory Of The World.

There, in the great halls of ancient ice, they will sing the song of their lives, and entrust their bonesong into her care, so that their memory will last through the ages of the world.

In the vast and trackless North, in the Ocean of Ice underneath the Sea of Stars, an ancient white dragon lives in a Mountain of Ice. She is the Bonemother. In her halls lie the bones of all who have lived on the twilight ice. In her memory live their songs.

She is the Memory of the World.

CONTENTS

Miirikjilinth, the Bonemother

Lair: The Mountain of Ice

Adventure Hooks

(Attempted) Stat Block

MIIRIKJILINTH

Very little is known of the great dragon in the north that the Peoples of the Ice call the Bonemother. Few who are not of the Peoples have met her, for her lair and the dragon herself are elusive in the extreme, and the Peoples do not share the details of their final pilgrimages with outsiders. As such, much of what the wider world knows of the dragon is legend, hearsay, myth, won from the stories of travellers and, for those few who win their relative trust, from the oral histories of the People of the Ice. If any outsider has stood in her presence and learned the truth of her themselves, they have not told of it, nor written it down.

From what little is known, it is said that the Bonemother has seen more than a thousand winters. That she was young when the ice was young. It is said that she is the Ice, that she lay at the centre of the Ocean and the Ice wreathed itself gradually around her, over the course of centuries. Her name, the name she calls herself, is Miirikjilinth, the Song of Memory, and her great lair is the Mountain of Ice, a gargantuan iceberg somewhere deep in the Ocean of Ice.

When the Peoples of the Ice feel their ends drawing near, many choose to make one last great trek to the Mountain of Ice, to give their memory into her keeping. Her great treasure hoard is no pile of gems or precious furs, but gallery upon gallery of the carved bone work of the Peoples of the Ice, each piece tied to a song and a story that only the Bonemother now remembers. She welcomes and watches over the last hours of all who make the pilgrimage to her, and offers her strength and her protection to all who aid them honestly on the path across the ice. Those who cross the ice falsely, however, who seek to injure or steal from her and her Peoples, will find there are few places they can escape her wrath. There is no greater crime in the Bonemother’s eyes than to falsely gain access to her lair, to lie in her presence, or to steal from her and her People.

There are many theories and stories on how this relationship between the Bonemother and the Peoples came to pass, and what might be its true nature. White dragons are not generally known to be social or caring creatures, but neither are they greatly known to be manipulative. Such a symbiotic relationship as that described between this great wyrm and the peoples of the ice is unusual in the extreme, but it is also difficult to imagine such a large-scale and long-standing deception on the part of a creature more usually known to be direct about their feelings.

Some have said that the Bonemother must not be a white dragon at all, but a metallic dragon in disguise for some reason or another. Others believe that, if the Bonemother is indeed a white dragon, that the relationship must have originated from a test of daring. That the Peoples sought to slay the Bonemother when both were younger, and somehow this test of strength softened into something more communal and ritualised over time. To be remembered by so ancient and exacting a memory as that of a white dragon might be reason enough to seek one out in one’s last days, and who knows? Perhaps the dragon herself might come to value the role and ritual of the memory of a people over time.

There are other, harsher rumours, however. Some, particularly outsiders, believe that the relationship is not symbiotic at all, but a ritualised predation that takes advantage of the Peoples. Other rumours explicitly say that the Peoples of the Ice are knowingly sacrificing their old and frail to a dragon in exchange for that dragon’s protection. Needless to say, these theories are among the reasons the Peoples tend not to speak of the Bonemother to outsiders anymore, and why few among them would ever choose to lead them to her, save to see them face her wrath.

The Peoples of the Ice also maintain that the Bonemother travels the Ocean of Ice in other forms. That she is the albatross on the wind, the whale among the waves. The spear-fisher on the wharf. As often as she flies beneath the River of Stars in her own mighty form, she travels in lesser ones for other purposes. To watch over her people, or to watch among them for enemies. Any beast or bird or man upon the Ice might be the Bonemother in disguise. For this, among other reasons, the tradition of hospitality on the Ice is sacrosanct. Until a guest betrays you, no hand will ever be raised against them.

And too, all who hunt upon the Ice place their lives in her claws, knowing that at any time they might find themselves unwittingly trying their strength against her. It is said that she does not begrudge this, however, nor does she necessarily kill those who strike against her unwittingly. Should they prove their strength well, the Bonemother might be moved to show mercy. There are even communities and villages said to have benefited from their daring in their desperation, to have fed on whale and porpoise through the most vicious winters by the benevolence of the Bonemother.

LAIR: THE MOUNTAIN OF ICE

The legends of the Mountain of Ice grow taller and taller across the decades, though perhaps with reason, for it is said that the Bonemother herself is always adding to it. The impossibly huge iceberg is mountain and citadel all in one, and it moves through the floes and currents of the Ocean of Ice as Miirikjilinth wills it. There is no set path to the Mountain, or, if there is, none that the Peoples will ever share. What little they will say is that, to take the last journey, one must have faith that the Bonemother knows your purpose and will open the path before you. Quite possibly literally: it is said that the great dragon creates roads across the ocean with her frigid breath, paths and bridges that never existed before and will no longer exist again before long. In such a way, among others, does the ancient dragon protect her lair.

Of the Mountain itself, there are several stories told of the many wonders within it.

The first and most reverent of them are always the Galleries, where the bonesongs of generations without count lie sheened in ice. It has been possible, the Peoples say, for those who have aided others in their pilgrimages to witness the Galleries without offering up their own bonesongs. There are songs that been lost for centuries that have been learned again in the Bonemother’s galleries. She does not only keep the memories of the ice, she is also willing to speak them, to those who seek honestly and with reverence.

It is said the Bonemother also maintains more personal galleries, of her own bones and memories. When rumours mention the treasures of the Bonemother, it is these galleries they speak of, full of diamonds and artefacts and the frozen corpses of her slain enemies. Here, it is rumoured, rest precious ivories, pearls, gems and weapons, as well as the bodies of heroes who sought to unmask the Bonemother’s ‘true nature’. Whether these galleries truly exist is unknown, as the Peoples of the Ice do not seek them, and no one else has ever survived the attempt.

More curiously, a Hospice is also spoken of within the Mountain of Ice. It is here that the pilgrims come to rest, once their song has been sung and their final hours are upon them. It is said that some may even be there for years, if they sought to make their pilgrimage while they still had strength to survive it, and so had some years left once they had arrived. Some speak of the Hospice as almost a settlement, provided for by the Bonemother and those of its inhabitants with strength remaining to hunt and help, or those who came with them to aid them. Such stories are almost unbelievable outside of the Peoples who tell them, as the idea of a settlement, perhaps even a town, existing and thriving within a white dragon’s lair seems … far-fetched at best. Yet, stories persist.

The Mountain is vertiginous, vastly tall, and it is said that the Bonemother herself inhabits the peak of it, the tallest tower of shaped and carved ice, an eyrie only a bird or a dragon could reach. Conversely, it is also said that her chambers lie within the deepest submarine depths of the great iceberg, and that the only entrance to her deepest lair lies far beneath the waves. Perhaps both are true, or neither. It is also said that the Mountain of Ice is not her true home at all, that it is only the meeting place at which she greets and cares for her People, and that her own home lies elsewhere. If that is true, however, then no one save perhaps the gods know the location of her true lair. No one but the Peoples have seen the Mountain, let alone anywhere else.

ADVENTURE HOOKS:

Many people around the Ocean of Ice and further afield have interests, whether fair or foul, in the legend of Miirikjilinth. The Bonemother is considered half grandmother and half goddess by the various Peoples of the Ice, the living embodiment of memory and tradition, and the reverence and respect for her cannot be overstated. Conversely, she is viewed with deep suspicion by almost everyone else who have heard of her, if only by virtue of being a chromatic dragon apparently acting in a very unusual way.

Whether they are People of the Ice seeking aid on their pilgrimages or lost relatives who have not returned from aiding someone else on theirs, treasure hunters seeking rumours of a vast dragon hoard, historians and scholars seeking the only known repository of the People’s oral history, druids seeking the history and health of the Ocean of Ice, or righteous heroes and metallic dragons seeking the truth of the Bonemother and her relationship with the Peoples of the Ice, there is always someone in the many ports and trailheads of the Ocean of Ice seeking to venture into the great trackless north in search of the Mountain of Ice.

(ATTEMPTED) STAT BLOCK:

(I say ‘attempted’ because I’ve never tried altering a stat block before. This is essentially just a slightly beefed Ancient White Dragon with spellcasting, the metallic dragons’ Shape Change ability, and some bumped mental scores. I wanted her to have developed wisdom in particular over her long years of symbiosis with the People of the Ice. She had the feel of a druid, between the more feral nature of stereotypical white dragons and the more communal aspects she’s taken on in despite them, with a few more clerical elements from her ritualistic funerary role among the Peoples. Take with a huge grain of salt here, particularly the CR rating, because math is not my strong point and I struggled a bit with the instructions in the DMG)

THE BONEMOTHER (ANCIENT WHITE DRAGON)

Gargantuan Dragon, Lawful Neutral

Armour Class: 21 (natural armour)

Hit Points: 429 (22d20 + 198)

Speed: 40ft, Burrow 40ft, Fly 80ft, Swim 40ft

Statistics: STR 28 (+9), DEX 10 (+0), CON 28 (+9), INT 10 (+0), WIS 23 (+6), CHA 18 (+4)

Saving Throws: Dex +7, Con +16, Wis +13, Cha +11

Skills: Perception +20, Stealth +7, Insight +13

Damage Immunities: Cold

Senses: Blindsight 60ft, Darkvision 120ft, Passive Perception 30

Languages: Common, Draconic

Challenge:  22 (41,000 XP)

Ice Walk: The dragon can move across and climb icy surfaces without needing to make an ability check. Additionally, difficult terrain composed of ice or snow doesn't cost it extra movement.

Innate Spellcasting: The Bonemother’s innate spellcasting ability is Charisma (spell save DC 19). The Bonemother can innately cast the following spells, requiring no material components:

1/Day each: Zone of Truth (2nd level), Intellect Fortress (3rd level), True Seeing (6th level), Wall of Ice (6th level)

Legendary Resistance (3/Day): If the dragon fails a saving throw, it can choose to succeed instead.

Spellcasting: The Bonemother is an 8th level spellcaster. Her spellcasting ability is Wisdom (spell save DC 21, +13 to hit with spell attacks). She has the following druid spells prepared:

Cantrips (at will): Shape Water, Mending, Thunderclap

1st Level (4 slots): Detect Magic, Speak with Animals, Healing Word, Create or Destroy Water

2nd Level (3 slots): Pass Without Trace, Augury, Heat Metal, Locate Object

3rd Level (3 slots): Dispel Magic, Protection from Energy, Revivify

4th Level (2 slots): Hallucinatory Terrain, Stoneskin, Locate Creature

ACTIONS:

Multiattack: The Bonemother can use her Frightful Presence. She then makes three attacks: one with her bite and two with her claws.

Bite: Melee Weapon Attack: +16 to hit, reach 15 ft., one target. Hit: 20 (2d10 + 9) piercing damage.

Claw: Melee Weapon Attack: +17 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 16 (2d6 + 9) slashing damage.

Tail: Melee Weapon Attack: +17 to hit, reach 20 ft., one target. Hit: 18 (2d8 + 9) bludgeoning damage.

Frightful Presence: Each creature of the Bonemother's choice that is within 120 feet of her and aware of her must succeed on a DC 19 Wisdom saving throw or become frightened for 1 minute. A creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. If a creature's saving throw is successful or the effect ends for it, the creature is immune to the Bonemother's Frightful Presence for the next 24 hours.

Cold Breath (Recharge 5-6): The Bonemother exhales an icy blast in a 90-foot cone. Each creature in that area must make a DC 24 Constitution saving throw, taking 72 (16d8) cold damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

Change Shape: The Bonemother magically polymorphs into a humanoid or beast that has a challenge rating no higher than her own, or back into her true form. She reverts to her true form if she dies. Any equipment she is wearing or carrying is absorbed or borne by the new form (the Bonemother's choice).

In a new form, the Bonemother retains her alignment, hit points, Hit Dice, ability to speak, proficiencies, Legendary Resistance, lair actions, and Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma scores, as well as this action. Her statistics and capabilities are otherwise replaced by those of the new form, except any class features or legendary actions of that form.

LEGENDARY ACTIONS:

Detect: The Bonemother makes a Wisdom (Perception) check.

Tail Attack: The Bonemother makes a tail attack.

Wing Attack (Costs 2 Actions): The Bonemother beats her wings. Each creature within 15 feet of her must succeed on a DC 24 Dexterity saving throw or take 15 (2d6 + 8) bludgeoning damage and be knocked prone. The Bonemother can then fly up to half its flying speed.

LAIR ACTIONS:

On initiative count 20 (losing initiative ties), the Bonemother takes a lair action to cause one of the following effects; she can't use the same effect two rounds in a row:

Freezing fog fills a 20-foot-radius sphere centered on a point the dragon can see within 120 feet of it. The fog spreads around corners, and its area is heavily obscured. Each creature in the fog when it appears must make a DC 10 Constitution saving throw, taking 10 (3d6) cold damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. A creature that ends its turn in the fog takes 10 (3d6) cold damage. A wind of at least 20 miles per hour disperses the fog. The fog otherwise lasts until the dragon uses this lair action again or until the dragon dies.

Jagged ice shards fall from the ceiling, striking up to three creatures     underneath that the dragon can see within 120 feet of it. The dragon makes one ranged attack roll (+7 to hit) against each target. On a hit, the target takes 10 (3d6) piercing damage.

The dragon creates an opaque wall of ice on a solid surface it can see within 120 feet of it. The wall can be up to 30 feet long, 30 feet high, and 1 foot thick. When the wall appears, each creature within its area is pushed 5 feet out of the wall's space; appearing on whichever side of the wall it     wants. Each 10-foot section of the wall has AC 5, 30 hit points, vulnerability to fire damage, and immunity to acid, cold, necrotic,     poison, and psychic damage. The wall disappears when the dragon uses this lair action again or when the dragon dies.

REGIONAL EFFECTS:

The region containing a legendary white dragon's lair is warped by the dragon's magic, which creates one or more of the following effects:

Once per day, the dragon can alter the weather in a 6-mile radius centered on its lair. The dragon doesn't need to be outdoors; otherwise the effect is identical to the control weather spell.

Icy walls block off areas in the dragon's lair. Each wall is 6 inches thick,     and a 10-foot section has AC 5, 15 hit points, vulnerability to fire damage, and immunity to acid, cold, necrotic, poison, and psychic damage.

If the dragon wishes to move through a wall, it can do so without slowing down. The portion of the wall the dragon moves through is destroyed,     however.

If the dragon dies, the fog and precipitation fade within 1 day. The ice walls melt over the course of 1d10 days.

[rainbowtransform]

Neither Of Us Will Be Missed

OKAY! Chpater Two is here, up and running! Thank you for reading, thanks for listening, thanks for reblogging and liking! :D

He climbs the trees and the leaves rustle as he settles. The trees are one of the most important parts of hiding from Hunters, and even though Dream’s Hunters usually know his tricks and could try to cut him off, these one don’t seem to. Cat jumps onto the tree and slips off, falling on his feet.

Shame, come Dream’s thought, unbidden. If Cat broke his leg, then he’d be out of the running for the Jump at least. They’d have to leave him behind. Then again, Flame came after Dream with a broken wrist a couple Jumps ago. There’s no way to judge when they’d leave behind a teammate, or when a teammate will let themselves be left behind. 

But if Dream keeps jumping in the trees and if he shakes enough leaves, they’ll think that he can’t be silent in the trees.

(Hide, right now. Dream, hide, hide, hide)

He manages to look through his inventory again, and he rips another loaf of bread and chucks it overhead. The Hunters’ eyes snap toward where the bread dropped and Dream holds his breath. They end up going that way, and Dream sneaks toward the right. 

The first time they’d Jumped was when Dream was killed the First Time. He’d been sent right into a grassy plain, empty except for a sleeping Hunter next to him. Dream had nothing with him, no food, no supplies, nothing. The Hunter looked the same way, but Dream didn’t stick around long enough to exanime it.

Dream had set off running. A sleeping Hunter wouldn’t be sleeping for long, and even though it took the Hunter a long time (maybe three months? Maybe two? Dream couldn’t remember) to Hunt and Kill him, Dream won’t let it happen a second time.

(He survives this one for almost a year. He sees how desperate the Hunter gets and how reckless he gets as well. Dream watches as the Hunter steps into lava for the upteempth time, trying to get to him, seething silently.

Dream called him ‘Flame’ afterward.)

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

He ends up by a river and he looks through his inventory again, searching for a water bottle or something to fill up. There’s nothing and Dream clicks his tongue. That’s not good. But it isn’t the first time he hasn’t had anything.

Why do you have Netherite? Only Hunters get it.

Dream shrugs it off. Hunters are usually the only ones who get Netherite, but then again, ever since they’ve entered the Jump, they’ve always been set back to the beginning. Dream swims across the river, all the while wondering why the Jump suddenly wants them all to have Netherite.

It’s weird, Dream decides. But the Jumps are all weird and Dream’s nothing if he doesn’t take it in stride. When Dream makes it to the other side, he climbs out, shivering. The air’s cool, and Dream takes a deep breath, feeling the cold air. Winter, Dream thinks.

It’s almost winter. 

The Jumps always start in Spring.

The Jumps… always start in spring.

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

“Is he really not ours?”

“Yes! See the mask? Ours is more chipped, plus there’s no scar on his hand. See?” And here his hand’s yanked forward, and flipped this way and that, and he’s annoyed.

“Can he break it?”

“Break what?”

“The curse? The Reset?” 

“What the fuck is that?”

“Every time Mask kills a dragon, it resets him. Or every time we kill him.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “So what or why are you looking for this ‘mask’?”

“He helped a traitor escape.” Bad says. “Emperor Schlatt deemed him an accomplice and sent us to get him.”

“But if we knew what he was, we wouldn’t have even taken the job.” George claims, setting down a piece of bread into Dream-who-isn’t-Dream’s hands. 

“What is he?” He asks, tearing the bread into little pieces and eating it like that. 

“He’s a Marked.”

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

Dream falters when he comes to a huge hole in the ground and things are built on stilts. There’s a bunch of houses, but Dream sees balconies and second stories. 

If he gets caught, he can jump from one place to the other; and the roof’s always a good option as well. He’s debating it when someone’s hand sits itself on his shoulder.

He grabs the hand and throws the person over his shoulder and slams him into the ground. A man with green and white hat and green clothing stares up at him.

“Hey,” Philza Minecraft, the World’s first Hardcore-born child says. “Whatcha doing here, mate?”

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

Dream read and heard all about Philza back when he was younger. His mother would sit him down and read him stories about how Philza used to build big things in his world, and how he’d fought two dragons! 

She even told him about how all Hardcore-born children were sent to live in a normal world until they were old enough to realize that once you die in Hardcore, you’re dead. (By that point, many of the children never wanted to return to their Home Worlds), and Hardcore Worlds began to die out.

Philza Minecraft was born and hidden from people who searched for children to send away. How his parents didn’t want their child to be sent away from them, and how so they hide him deep underground. (The older generation had wings that they, apparently, grew themselves. Philza’s parents figured out how)

Hardcore is a hard place to raise children, but it’s even harder to raise a child privately. But at the same time, Hardcore is where wings are grown and minds are sharpened. Philza’s mind was as sharp as can be when his wings were just starting to form on his back. 

“He loved to fly, just like someone else I know,” Dream’s mother would tell him, holding Dream close to her chest as she rocked him. “And he wouldn’t stop flying, not even when his parents begged and pleaded.”

“What happened to him?” Dream asked fuzzily.

His mother hummed. “He didn’t die,” she said. “But some say his wings got clipped and he no longer could fly. Instead, he decided to settle down and adopt three children. Technoblade,”

“A rival,” Dream sleepy calls him, and Puffy laughs so hard, he almost gets up. 

“Technoblade, a rival and so called ‘Blood God,’” she agreed. “Wilbur Soot, self-proclaimed musician and lyric lover. And TommyInnIt, a child who had seen too much in the tiniest amount of time.”

Dream laughs a bit. “He’s a kid?”

“A teenager by now,” Puffy tells him. “You really like listening to these myths huh?”

“They aren’t myths,” Dream says. “They’re real, aren’t they?”

Puffy chuckles. “Of course, duckling,” she said. “As long as you believe in them, then I’m sure they’re just as real as I am to you. Right?”

“It’s a belief thing, right Mom?” Dream asks. Puffy ruffles his hair and begins rocking him and humming a song he hasn’t heard in a long time. Dream falls asleep to his mother’s humming and thinking about a family of four.

(And somewhere else, a hand grabs a teenager’s and helps him climb out of a ditch. A man with wings big enough to keep four boys underneath them blinks. “I’ll see if I can scout out a place,” he says.

“I’ll come with,” a piglin hybrid tells him. 

“Okay, son. Tommy, Wilbur. You two stay here, and make sure we’ve got something to eat when we get back, okay?”

“Got it, Dad.” Tommy says before grabbing Wilbur’s arm and beginning to tug it.)

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

“Is it true?” Dream blurts out, and Philza looks back at him when they’re safely in his home.

“Is what true?” Philza asked, hands on his hips.

“That you were the first Hardcore child in millions of years,” Dream gestures wildly to the wings tucked tight against Philza’s spine.

“Uh, no?” Philza said. “Who told you that?”

“My… my mom,” Dream mumbled and Philza laughs. 

“Moms say a lot of things,” he says before checking out the window again. “Techno told me you might be coming.”

And Dream stops breathing.

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

“Marked are people with magical ability,” Sapnap says, roasting a rabbit over the fire he’d made. “They can do basically anything if they really set their minds to it. Philza Minecraft’s a Marked ‘cause he can fly, you know? Technoblade is because he can Shapeshift; so’s TommyInnIt who can make anyone attached to him like a sort of family thing? And Wilbur Soot can use his Words to destroy someone from the inside out.”

“Dream’s pretty powerful,” Ant says, pinning up some laundry to dry. “He created the End Realm, you know? It wasn’t anything until he’d somehow did something and made it occupied with dragons, eggs, and those Endermen things. We think he started the Jumps too.”

“If we kill him permanently,” Bad says. “Then the Jump will stop, and we’ll all start going back to normal.”

“How long have you been trapped here?”

Bad takes a deep breath, and so does George. Ant and Sapnap don’t even glance up before George says, in a low, low voice “We’ve been doing this for twenty years.”

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

“Breathe,” Philza says, slapping him on the back. “I won’t turn you in. You’re acting weird, but that’s just normal.”

“I don’t think I belong here,” Dream blurts out. Philza stops and turns to look at him. 

“What do you mean?” He asks.

And Dream spills everything. This is Philza Minecraft. He’d know what to do, if anything. (He even talks about how the Jumps work, and how it’s whenever he died or when the dragon dies, but never when the Hunters die, and Philza’s eyes light up.)

He takes a moment, and looks carefully at Dream, and then rearranges his wings (which look burned out, with holes in them and Dream can’t help but think: that shouldn’t be there.)

He looks away for a moment, thinking back to his childhood memory of big fluffy wings that can wrap kids around in them, powerful enough to fly so high in the sky while holding onto his children, and then Philza’s unfurling his wings.

And they look perfect. And Phil looks over at him, and something clicks in his head.

“Oh, mate,” Philza tells him. “You’re the reason the Jumps started.”

Dream’s silent. His hands shake, and he says, in a completely emotionless voice: “What?”

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

@theseventhreincarnation [;)]

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

The Full Moon (A White Demon’s Love Song, Part 7.)

Series description: A new job was the reason you found yourself on a lonely road trip on the western coast, ending up in the woods of the Olympian Peninsula. Yet a sudden car malfunction was what cause your unplanned stay in Forks. To your surprise, there was a lot of sinister things going on under the veil of fog.

Part Summary: As the relationship between you and the grumpy shapeshifter finally moved on to the better ground, you knew you were now in the position to ask to see more of the magic that Quilete people could do.

A/N: Okay, okay, okay. I'm back and... Let's get this bad boy running, shall we?

Tagging: @missdictatorme​

Word count: 4.6 K

Twilight playlist: ✨ Twilight Crackheads ✨

Series masterlist: H E R E

Jacob sat there in dead silence for a moment, before he looked back at you, just sitting there, chewing the meat and staring at him with a small smile. - "Are you sure that you're in the right headspace? We can talk about this later if you want." - At that, you furrowed. You've asked him to show you the wolf again. Okay, maybe, you've been making a fairground attraction out of his abilities and you weren't afraid to tell it out loud, but you wanted to see the animal again. You were curious about seeing it. - "What are you after?" - You mumbled, taking another bite from your almost cold meal. Dear Lord, you've been sitting at the table for more than half an hour. - "You've hit your head, had a panic attack, fainted twice, and even though, you want to see it again. Don't you have any sort of self-preservation instinct? Or do you just find it exciting to have your life threatened all the time?"

It was played out as a joke and you both grinned, you even let out a small laugh... But it was just reminding Jacob of her. How excited she was to discover the werewolves, that she was fond of learning more about them - more so, there was a short fascination phase. Funny, how things sometimes replayed the exact way it was before. - "Hey, look at it from my perspective. I've been living my whole life listening to fairytales and legends, myths, stories... And now, I've learned that some of them are real. Of course, I want to see it again." - "It's not a magic trick. It's who I am, Y/N." - Jacob looked you dead in the eyes to scare you off a bit, but it hadn't made you even flinch. - "And I do respect that, Jacob." - It was just a whisper, but the five words meant a whole lot.

You were telling him that you're respecting this side of him and that you're not scared anymore. Well, that you're not scared of him, more so - which was fair, there was something way more malicious to be scared of. The cold ones, knowns also as the fricking vam-pi-res which you still couldn't say out loud. And now, it was your conflict as well, whether you wanted to take part in it or not. You were there and you should accommodate real fast, or it's going to cost a lot more than a slight concussion, two faintings, and obviously, making yourself an idiot out of yourself in front of fucking everyone. Which made you furrow. - "How do you even know I fainted twice and that I was acting like an idiot? You weren't here - Seth was with me the whole time." - "It's going to get crazier than it already is... Do you want me to answer this one?" - Jacob furrowed and you nodded. - "Are you sure?" - He asked once more. Again, you nodded

Maybe you thought that you're going crazy, Jacob couldn't tell what was going through that head of yours. So far, it seemed that not that much was going on there. And so, he went for it. - "We can see, hear, and feel our thoughts. The members of the pack a 24/7 access to every thought that has ever gone through your head, every feeling that went through... They can see everything. It's very uncomfortable and scary - but that's how I know what was happening here." - "Like all the time?" - "No, only when we shift and the person shifts around the same time." - Wow. How many boobies did the werewolves have to see? How much of the action... Did they see? Sex was the last appropriate thought in a situation like this one - but it was the most natural one.

Once more, your face was looking like a frozen Windows XP program as you thought about all the dirty secrets they knew about eating others... Well, there weren't any dirty secrets if they simply saw all of them, huh? That was one of the most fucked up things you've heard until that day. - "And can you like... Not share with them?" - You wondered after at least two-minutes-lasting silence. - "When you're good at playing mind games or you're a total asshole, constantly thinking about something unpleasant, theoretically, you can hide some of your memories... But trust me, we've been in each other's heads for enough of a long time. Mind games start to bore you to death after some time." - "But it's better than seeing someone bending Betty from the gas station over a table, ain't it? I'm sorry, but I can't stand the bare thought of seeing my friends... Doing stuff. Yuck." - At that, Jacob snickered - which fluidly translated to a burst of happy laughter. - "I'm talking years of being in each other's heads. Not just... Weeks or months. No matter how hard you'd try to conceal everything, there's always a small moment of vulnerability, which can tell others everything, especially when you imprint. Then you don't care about how the miserable singles perceive your all-day projection of a happy relationship." - Jacob mumbled then, his expression coldening at the end of his statement.

Again, there was this hint of sadness and the other Jacob taking over the wheel, steering the ship for now. Yet now, you were to jump straight into the sadness. - "Come again? Imprinting? And what's that about?" - You asked, reminding him that most of this is all news for you. You've never been inside the consciousness of the pack - you never saw Quil constantly gushing over his precious Claire, or before, you couldn't hear Sam thinking of Emily. At the start, it was sweet, but occasionally, it started to feel like flexing on the members who hadn't found the one yet. - "That's another form of slavery we, as the werewolves, participate in." - Jacob tried to joke around, but the tone of his voice gave him in. - "Okay, I'm ready to hear about that."

It wasn't making Jacob easy to talk about the imprinting, trying to explain it to someone - again. But he did. He talked about endless love where the wolf had no choice but to listen to the damn calling of his imprintee. He couldn't leave, he couldn't just stop loving them, the wolves had no choice in this matter. It was one of the most unfair and disgusting, weird things you've heard about that evening. But it made you think... Maybe this was why Jacob was so sour about Bella all the time. He imprinted - and she just let his trust go, becoming a vampire. She let him suffer, alone and unwanted. - "Did it..." - "No." - Jacob answered before you've even finished your question. So that wasn't what happened either - but you were positive that something similar to it had happened. The idea simply haunted you - how would it feel to fall for someone without choosing to do so? Without any reasoning?

On the other hand, it must've been extremely freeing. Not to think about doing right and wrong, just to do as your head tells you to - to love, admire and care for a person until the point it almost kills you, not to put yourself and your feelings in the first place... Damn. It had pros and cons. - "Okay." - You said when you've settled all the ideas inside your head. - "When we'll be doing it? I mean, when you're going to show me?" - Well, you certainly weren't fucking around. There was no question about IF Jake's going to show you, the question asked was starting with WHEN. On one hand, you've had the right to know more about it. On the other hand, it was none of your fucking business - especially with the vampires lurking around Forks.

And as usual for Jacob, he chooses the less logical solution. - "Tonight. I have a watch over the Ozette lake and I'm supposed to be alone there. Also, it's not probable for the leeches to track us out there." - Jacob was never the best with making good decisions, that was the first thing going on there. The second matter was that Jacob was sure you'd follow him into the woods - and if you'd drop dead again, Seth couldn't be the prince to rescue this time. The third thing about this situation was that it would be most likely the best solution, for a few days, to stick with one of the wolves. The trackers hadn't come across the few drops you've let in the forest when you banged your forehead into a damn root - they'd surely soon do so since it was quite smelly.

Now, when you were on board with everything, it also wasn't so crazy to ask you about borrowing a t-shirt from you. Sure, other boys and mainly Sam won't be too happy with how much did Jacob tell you - yet it was better than you walking around without having any clue. He could leave out some parts, for sure, but why would he do so? He was in a fucking shitty situation - no way in hell would he be pretending that everything on the planet is a-ok. - "Okay." - You chimed happily. Suddenly, you whipped folds with papers on the table, working as you ate the last crumpets on your plate. - "Also, there's this one problem." - "The money doesn't add up? " - Jacob asked back, his eyes glued to the TV. - "No, I'm just almost done with all the papers I was able to find there. You don't have the business for too long, do you?

At this, another bit of the conversation was started - Jacob told you how he got the old workshop from a mechanic who was too old to keep up. Of course, he paid something for the business, but it was more of a symbolic amount of money than a huge sum. Jacob also started to keep the record about all the gigs he has taken since he started to work as the new mechanic; yet despite his best tries, he was a messy person - your help was heavily appreciated in this field. This start-up was just what Jacob needed to leave La Push. He was still spending some time at the weekend in there with his dad, Seth, and his other friends, but now, he was trying to get through life on his own.

He dreamt about going on a vacation to somewhere where it's always sunny and warm, but he was still saving up for the dreamy trip of his life. Which, as you guessed, wasn't going too well. Jacob, being the good-willed idiot, was trying to help the needy people who couldn't afford to pay that much for a mechanic and there was a lot of small amounts of money he just... Let go. Just like with you, with Mrs. Peterson, and a ton of other people. So... He was most likely to spend his whole damn life in Forks. - "Yeah, but I mean... I will be done soon. What should I do when all the papers are sorted?" - You asked when the story was ended. - "Well, since you still have a debt, you might as well help me with the gigs, I suppose. Tomorrow, I have one in Sappho and then two cars in La Push, I think. And a routine check-up at the station... And then your car." - Jacob started to count on his fingers, naming every gig he had written into his calendar. - "I don't know anything about cars. And you've told me that you're gonna do something to me if I even get close to one of your cars. The cars don't like me either, just to let you know." - At that, Jacob laughed into the back of his palm. - "I'll be there and I'll show you your way around the cars, I swear. You won't be letting anyone's car blow up on my watch." - And there, it was the start of something so-called a friendship.

As Jacob promised, it could be around 8 p.m. as you both climbed into the tank he called a car. He made sure you've made yourself some hot tea and put it into a Thermo cup, some food, he so made you take your jacket and his raincoat just to be sure you won't feel cold. The whole ride to the unknown was quiet, yet in a nice way. You've been shifting on your seat expectedly, watching your surroundings. There were woods as far as you could see, nothing but deep and dark woods. Suddenly, Jacob turned off the engine and looked at you. You've been in the middle of literal nowhere, yet Jacob was sure you're just where you've been supposed to be. - "Well, come on, we're here." - The man smiled sadly. He was playing out the worst scenarios inside his mind for the last ten minutes and he was just praying you wouldn't fain when he'd show his wolf form to you. - "We'll be walking for half an hour," - "In this pitch-black night? Are you out of your mind?" - At that weak argument, Jacob snickered quite happily.

"I forgot you can't see that well in the dark." - The man scratched the nape of his neck as he looked around. - "But you'll be just fine, trust me. Let's go." - With a quite loud clap, he ventured to the forest head first, not waiting for what you wanted to do. Unexpectedly, you stood still at the trunk of his car while the wildest thoughts raced through your mind. That man told you, just mere hours ago, that there are vam-pi-res somewhere in the woods and now he wanted you to wander somewhere behind him, orienting only through the sounds of his heavy footsteps... Jacob was surely half-insane, you were one hundred percent sure of that. Suddenly, said crazy man popped his head on the other side of the trunk, making you squirm in fear. First, you ducked and tried to hide, but then, your mind clicked as your brain realized it's only Jacob

"Holy mother of shit." - The curse made Jacob grin, but he didn't say a single word as he leaned his elbows to the sides of the said trunk. - "I swear to God that I'll have a heart attack if you keep fucking around with me. You scared me to death."

"What are you so scared about? I've heard everyone looks better in the dark, Y/N, which makes me the best looking man in all of the Forks and La Push." - At that argument, a wide grin appeared on your face. Sure, you still were a bit tense, but as of now, Jacob's presence was calming you down... Which was a thing you thought you'd never say out loud. In the end, he was one grumpy and scary package. As of now, he was tall as a mountain and pretty well-built as far as you could judge; said man could also turn into a wolf at will, so it was a win-win situation. You had to be safe with him even if you didn't want to. - "Debatable." - It was not much more than a silent mumble when you answered Jacob. - "Come on. Don't be a sissy, nothing bad can happen to you. I can't smell anything inhuman in here. You're safe."

To be absolutely exact, Jacob couldn't smell anything other than you. Not that you'd be smelly or smelling funny, your smell was just outrageously strong, even in an opened, windy space. But he was sure that if any leech would be lurking around, he'd either see or smell them. - "Sissy?" - Was the answer you came up with, leaving the safe space behind the trunk. With never-before-seen confidence, you walked up to the edge of the woods, quite literally pulling your sleeves up in the process. - "You called me a sissy? Well, young man, you just outdo yourself. I'm no sissy." - And just like that, you stumbled to the pitch-black dark forest, walking a few steps forward between mossy, cold trees. At first, you still knew Jake's right behind to watch each of the steps you made, yet as the time passed by, the silence was growing louder and louder.

You've made it a few feet into the woods before you realized that you, in fact, were a total sissy. As you walked out of the edge again, you could now see Jacob resting his back on the side of his car, watching you with a small, daring smile. - "I gave you a minute before you walk back out. You impressed me with your time of a minute and fifteen seconds." - "Oh, fuck off. A forest is a freaky place when you can't see even a foot away from you. I almost hit a tree with my forehead." - With a sigh, you caught the straps of your backpack in your palms and looked at him. - "Well, lucky for you, I have a plan B."

First, you didn't know what he was doing - the man kneeled in front of you while showing you his back, waiting for you to do something. What you were supposed to do was in no way clear to you, to be honest. - "Are you climbing on it or not?" - Jacob asked impatiently after almost a minute of getting his knees wet. Were you doing... What? What did the man just ask you to do? To climb on his back? Well, who were you not to deliver?

With all the concentration you had in you and with the best skill you could have while wearing two thick jackets, you climbed on his back, making sure you were holding to his shoulders as firmly as you could. At first, it seemed to be working - with little to no actual force, Jacob walked at least half a mile with you on his back. The only problem was your ass slowly slipping down with each step he took. And suddenly...

"Oh, loca. Did you hurt yourself?" - As soon as Jacob heard a loud wet thud, he knew you've fallen directly on your ass. Yeah, it did hurt a little, but it was nothing you wouldn't walk off pretty easily. - "No, I think I'm good, it's basically nothing." - A mutter along with a sharp curse word left your lips as you tried to pick yourself hard. And you needed to say that it wasn't the easiest task when you couldn't see more than one and a half feet from you. Jacob watched you trying to find a tree nearby with a smirk on his face before he actually bowed down and made sure to pick you up bridal style.

"I can walk on my own, Jesus Christ, Black! I'm heavy!" - A quiet squirm hit Jacob's ears as he started running with you in his arms as if you were nothing but air. Even though you started to wiggle a bit to show you're not consenting to be carried, the man could hear your heart slowly calming down. Just like that, you felt very safe. - "We can talk about that once you start walking properly. You women really need to work on your marches, let me tell you that." - Jacob answered while making his way forward as if you weren't even there. - "It's hard to walk when you can't see for your dear life." - Was the last mutter you left out before curling up closer to the warmth he radiated as you tried to find a better position for yourself to relieve both him and you.

Jacob remembered the forest trail to lake Ozette from the back of his head. During the day, the place could be lovely when any leeches were around - it was a huge body of water laying as far as an eye could see, some shores were beachy, some of them were covered in reeds. When the summer was warm enough, it was one of Jake's favorite spots to take a swim at along with the boys, especially when they decided they are bored of cliff diving for now. As he thought about that, there were many beautiful spots around Washington the guides didn't talk about and which you definitely had to see for yourself - just like that one meadow high up in the mountains, or the canyon cutting the edge between Quileute and Cullen territory. There was just something simply magical about these spots.

It took him a moment to form the right kind of sentence before he started talking. Which, let's be honest, kinda freaked you out - the man was running around a pitch-black forest with you in his arms and nothing more than jean shorts and a plain t-shirt on, barefoot, let you add and he still found to breath to talk to you amidst all of that. - "You know, if we survive all of this in good health..." - Jacob started carefully. It was meant as a joke, but seeing your eyes widen in horror made him realize this wasn't funny to you. - "I mean, when all this is over, because, we will destroy those leeches and that's a promise, I think I have some secret spots for you that you might want to see." - "But... What about my car? Won't it be long repaired by then?" - Ouch. It was a good question, but it hurt the good-hearted Jacob right in the feels; this time, the mean, grumpy guy wasn't in charge.

Yes, he should focus on repairing your car as quickly as he was capable of just to get you out of Forks for good. As a reward, he wouldn't feel the heavy responsibility for another human being who was fully dependant on him and his pack in this scenario. On the other hand... - "What if we don't get the right parts, huh? I think you should start to prepare for prolonging your stay in Forks and by all means, you should find yourself a good part-time job. Newtons always look for a part-time worker." - Even if you could see just a sheer glimpse of his teeth, you knew he was basically smiling from ear to ear.

"Jacob Black, you're one of the best mechanics I've seen," - Wow. That was a huge compliment. Yet, then the second part of the sentence came to play and it ruined the nice thing completely. - "Truth is, I have seen like... One mechanic working. But you seem to be great at what you're doing and with your love for classic cars, there's no way in hell you wouldn't get my Beetle working." - "You meant do say the wreck, didn't you?" - "Oh, fuck you. No more compliments for you, you get cocky too easily." - To keep you in the headspace of winning that small quarrel, Jacob didn't say a word throughout the rest of the way. It wasn't much longer a mere five minutes later when something very bright hit your eyes.

Oh, it was the moon. It made sense - no clouds were in the sky, it was clear and you've also been miles away from the nearest small town. Here, as it reflected in the masses of water, the moon looked as big as never before. When Jacob put you down, you didn't wait for a signal that the proximity of Ozette if vam-pi-re free and just walked to the meadow surrounding it. As it was to be expected, it was cold as hell - there was a huge mass of water in front of you and the wind was blowing; yet your eyes were basically glued to the big, grey, shiny ball on the sky. - "I told you there are some secret spots you might enjoy." - Black grinned as he pressed something to your hand. At first, you just nodded with your mouth opened as you were unable to look away, yet as soon as you realized you're holding a piece of cloth, it hit you - Jacob walk walking back to the edge of the forest's edge, unzipping his jean shorts. It was happening.

With a soft thud, you took down your backpack and turned head first towards the spot the man disappeared at. Nothing more than a splashing of water and soft howling of the wind could be heard, yet you knew exactly what was happening. And when it happened, the sound reminded you of a quiet, strange explosion, you knew that this time, you've been perfectly prepared for what was waiting for you hidden just ten feet away from the nearest tree.

This time, when you saw it, you hadn't fainted. In fact, you stood perfectly still and watched the majestic animals slowly walking towards you.