#the long answer is that in the AU i thought of the elves run the world government so any criminal ends up getting notched

[eriochromatic]

Why do some of the race swaps have notches in their ears even when they’re not elves? I’m pretty sure it’s only elves that do that to criminals.

The canaries also had notches in their ears when they got race swapped, I just thought it would be nice to keep the consistencies

[crystallizedtwilight]

🎃 LSBC Questions: Part 18! 🎃

Lock, Shock, Barrel, and Calliope questions that call for quick answers will be under the cut in batches of 10-15 🧡

Previous bulk questions batch

Maybe Shock will tell her one day. It's not top of mind so Shock hasn't considered it being something to share.

Some sources say Lock is the leader. Others, like Jorgen Klubien and Owen Klatte (storyboard / animators on tnbc) say that Shock is the leader. I personally think Lock and Shock each fully believe that they are the leader and bicker about it: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

I'm not very skilled at background art, but I like to imagine that the other worlds have their own whimsical over-the-top aesthetics just like Halloween Town and Christmas Town do.

Yep! Ghouls are born supernatural creatures. Zombies used to be human. Ghouls dine on corpses, have 3-toed-feet, and have normal flesh/living bodies. Zombies can bite the living, have 5-toed-feet, and their bodies are decayed flesh/reanimated. If you're wondering if a ghoul would eat a zombie, they would not—if it moves it's not food!

Just a trio thing!

Many people ask if the epilogue (4 or 5 skeleton kids) will be part of this AU but I've made the decision that it will not. This AU takes place when Jack and Sally are newly married and want to enjoy each other's company for a while before kids are a focus.

Yep!

Just like Shock yearns for a black cat familiar, so too does Calliope dream of having a dog companion one day.

They've been hard banned from 4th of July Town. No one is happy to see them there for obvious reasons (but that doesn't stop them from going and they just run if they get caught!)

They've been banned from Christmas Town on principal, but they keep getting in and Sandy is just like "(long sigh) Just don't break anything this time." Mrs. Claus gives them gifts she thinks they'll hate to discourage them from returning but the trio just end up genuinely liking them. The elves fear for re-work any time they show up.

Valentines Town doesn't appreciate its romantic moments being ruined with party snaps.

They've canonically caused messes in Thanksgiving Town and Easter Town so they're not welcome there either. The Easter Bunny still shivers at the thought of them due to the mix up!

And St. Patricks Day town was not their vibe.

Due to their mischievous nature they definitely haven't made any "friends" in the other hinterlands worlds yet. However, the trio find it most fun to travel to and interact with the human world via the tomb portals. Whether it's scaring folks on Halloween, sneakily enjoying festivals, or buying junk food at a gas station at 3 AM: [1] [2] [3] [4]

[tathrin]

Roughly what would a Mirkwood Ghost AU be?

From this prompt-meme.

EDIT: now with slightly longer more polished version on AO3 here.

Sorry for the delay in answering this one, I had so many ideas that I could not sort-out what I actually wanted to do with it, and I for the longest time thought it was going to be something where Legolas was an Unhoused Spirit trapped around Dol Guldur, or even one where all of Mirkwood had been dead for generations, but Gimli strayed into the forest one day and came out with an elvish ghost as his side etc etc...but what I actually ended up not being able to get out of my head was this thing, where it's not so much a Mirkwood Ghost AU but rather the opposite (sorry; I hope you like it anyway).

All the dwarves of Moria were dead—all save one, a bright-bearded dwarf who introduced himself to the Company as Gimli son of Glóin, at your service and that of your family. He helped lead them through the dark, and warned them as best he could (for he could not speak its name, of course; one of the rules of death is that one cannot name that which killed him) of the danger of fire that waited below; and when at last they broke past the last enemy and made to run out into the sun, Gimli stopped. Legolas turned back, his sharp elvish ears hearing the sudden silence where dwarven boots no longer rang upon the stone. "Gimli, come!" he cried. "The orcs will be on us soon, we must hurry!"

Gimli only smiled sadly and shook his head. "I cannot, Legolas. This is as far as was given to me to help the Fellowship, when I begged a boon of my Maker before I go to lay my head down in Dwarven Dreaming forever. You must go on from here without me; I am sorry."

"No," said Legolas. "No, Gimli, you are one of us now, and I will not leave you in this tomb; your kin are dead, and I am sorry for it, but you cannot help them now."

"I am dead too, Legolas. I am dead, and so in this tomb I must remain."

"No," the elf insisted stubbornly, a flare of anger kindling hot within him through the cold weight of grief. If he was surprised to learn that Gimli had been dead even before they met, he did not show it; but he was an elf of Mirkwood, and so perhaps he alone among the surviving Fellowship was not surprised. "No, Gimli, come away with us," he said, and his sad eyes were fierce. "Did you not pledge to aid the Fellowship when first we met you in the dark?" he challenged. "Would you be proved faithless now, when the road lightens?"

For a long time they stood there, living elf and dead dwarf, staring at one another across the dark threshold of Khazad-dûm. Legolas reached back into the shadows of the ancient dwarven halls and held his hand out: steady, waiting. His star-bright eyes did not flicker as he stared at the ghost before him.

Eventually, Gimli met that long hand with his own, and let the elf pull him forward into the light.

He had more than half-expected to dissolve the moment his feet left the stones of Khazad-dûm and his head stood out beneath the sun, able to endure the light even less than living orcs; but Legolas held firm, and Gimli endured his first breathless walk beneath the sun. When he looked into the Mirrormere, he could see the stars shining through the shadow of his face; but by the time they reached the trees of Lothlórien, he was solid enough to cast shadows of his own upon the ground, even if his feet made no footprint in the leaves.

The elves of Lórien were not keen to let a dead thing walk into their woods, but the Lady's power did not bar such a noble spirit from her lands, and so they could do naught to stop him; and so the ghost of Gimli walked forward with the Fellowship of the Ring beneath the golden leaves of Caras Galadhon. He bowed to the Lady there, and she wrapped a charm braided of her own gleaming hair around his wrist before he left—three strands of Tree-lit silvered-gold to anchor his dead spirit to the world so that his ghost might endure in places that were less forgiving to spirits than the Golden Wood.

Thus bound to the living world by the locks of the Lady Galadriel, the ghost of Gimli son of Glóin floated down the Anduin and soared across the plains of Rohan and dragged living orcs to their deaths on the cold stones of Helm's Deep; he shivered through the Paths of the Dead, the one dead-thing there not bound to Isildur's Oath, seeking refuge from the ancient spirits that saw him far too clearly in the warm and living hands of the elf that led him; joined the oath-bound dead as they assailed the living enemy at Pelargir and caught and bolstered the faltering steps of a living elf when the cry of white seagulls lashed the longing for distant shores like whips across his trembling ears; took the fields outside of Gondor alongside Isildur's Heir and marched with the living towards their doom outside the Black Gates.

And when the war was done, and the Dark Lord cast down, and the One Ring unmade, Gimli son of Glóin took the hands of the elf that had drawn him out of the black pit of Moria one last time and whispered his farewells at last, and—

And Legolas caught his dead face between his hands and pressed his living lips to the ghost of Gimli in a kiss, and whispered, "Stay."

And faithful Gimli, who could not bear to let even death break his promises to the living, lingered as he was bid; as he was begged.

He bound dwarven charms to the crystals of the Glittering Caves, creating in their gleaming beauty a space on the edge of life and death alike where a half-housed spirit could wander safely; he fashioned bands of mithril to hold the Locks of the Lady around his spectral wrists until the ghosts of his bones settled solidly into his spirit, as steady as the heartbeat of any living dwarf within his silent, breathless chest. And he walked, dead and devoted, at the side of his living elf, and if fearful superstitious whispers followed them wherever they want, Legolas did not seem to mind them—and so Gimli would not falter to them either.

And indeed, what cared Legolas for the whispers of fear that followed the spectral steps of his dead lover? Legolas was an elf of Mirkwood. He had ever lived among Shadow and Death, his people standing brave and doomed against the Necromancer, defiant to their last breaths and beyond. What cared he when people whispered about the ghost of Gimli now? They had ever whispered such things of Mirkwood, too, and Legolas had ever loved his dark and deadly forest.

Why not love a dead dwarf, too?

And when all of Legolas's mortal friends were dead at last, and only the ghost remained yet by his side, he built a grey ship and sailed for the Straight Road at last, following the call of the gulls to the elven-home that he had never seen. And when the ship crossed the rain-curtain between the mortal and immortal planes of the circles of the world, the shimmering ghost of a dwarf sailed with him, and none in Aman could stop them; for Aman was a place barred to living mortals, yes, but Gimli was no living mortal.

And so they walked onto those white shores together, and Gimli's dead feet made less impression in the sands than the light elvish tread of Legolas, but the grip of their hands entwined was as solid and firm as any living bond.

Mahal wept to see one of his dwarves so twined to an elvish soul that even death would not free him to seek the Dreams of the Dwarves that waited for all his kin beneath the stone—but Gimli held his dead head high in the face of his Maker's tears, and did not falter. He held Legolas's warm living hand within his dead one, and did not falter.

And the Lady of Lothlórien saw her golden locks still gleaming bright around his spectral wrists where he stood there translucent on the sands, and she smiled at them both, and Gimli was content. His Maker would understand someday, and see the love that bound Gimli's dead spirit to the world, and sorrow for him then no more; for was it not Mahal who had first forged his dwarves to be so stalwart in faith and in endurance?

And the heart of Gimli son of Glóin was ever faithful. Even in his death.

[goatanarchy]

Little Rat

Summary: A spirit wakes up in a body of a mage, to take his place and his name. Notes: Warden/Duncan(implied), Warden is he/they!, AU where Duncan doesn't die and is a companion because I want to, probably very OOC but who cares. I wanted to finish more scenes before I post this one but I have been struggling for months, maybe even a year to write, so here is at least a very short part of it that is done.

The mage was looking at the rat. The rat was looking at the mage.

The deal was made, he is finally free. Both of them.

“Promise me one thing…” - the rat whispered.

“Anything!” - the mage smiled so brightly, the rat felt weird. He could never make this face in the mirror.

“Escape. See the sun, eat some good food.”

“I will. I’ve always wanted to.”

“Good.”

The rat disappeared and the darkness came.

Then gasp of air. The first one! And light, so much light, softness and muscle, the loud beating of heart inside his veins. His veins… filled with warmth and blood and tingling pain inside his head. But even the pain was exciting! It was the first one they felt…

“Are you alright? Say something, please…” - they heard an anxious voice. It welcomed them into the world as they jumped off the bed and looked around abruptly, like a wild animal ready to run.

“Jowan?” - they called out a bit unsure. Lots of memories buzzed in their mind and the mage hid his face in his hands. Cold. Poor blood circulation. Yes it was a friend, they remembered. Not his, but the one before him. Sarikh. He liked that name. He will carry it too.

Sarikh opened his eyes and saw a human… man? Yes. A scrawny one, in heavy dark robes and with sad anxious eyes. Sarikh brought his gaze to other things: walls of stone - cold to the touch, the wooden beds, the closets, big doors, his heavy robes (that he decided he didn’t like) and other people… humans and elves…real ones… Just like him! They were staring at Sarikh from afar with curiosity. Sarikh too was curious, but couldn’t tell what they were thinking about him. He tried to reach for their thoughts but could only catch blurred echoes of their emotions and feelings. Confusion, fear, envy.

“How weird!”, he thought to himself. It used to be so easy to just know.

“They carried you in yesterday and I was so worried… I’ve heard of apprentices who never came back from Harrowing. What was it like?” - Jowan asked.

“It was… harrowing.” - Sarikh answered absently, squeezing the sheets of the bed he was sitting on, wondering at the feel of the rough textures he never was able to feel before.

“And that’s it?” - Jowan asked and Sarikh could see the wrinkles on his forehead come together sculpting his face to look…. sad? Yes. That was the emotion Jowan was feeling. Sarikh smiled apologetically.

“You know I can’t tell you about it.”

“I do. I just wish I knew when they will call me for it already…” - there was frustration in his voice and fear in his mind. Not something Sarikh could fix. He knew Jowan was afraid of becoming a tranquil, as did most mages in this tower. Tranquil or dead - who knew which one was worse?

“Although Irving wanted to see you after you wake up.”- Jowan added after realizing Sarikh wasn’t gonna tell him anything else.

“I should… probably go see him then!” - they said, jumping off the bed and leaving sad Jowan behind. They felt bad for not knowing how to comfort their… new friend.

Sarikh didn't pout for too long and got distracted easily. He touched the cold metal gratings shaped in beautiful spirals and looked through the books in the library. Which he didn’t know had a smell! The knowledge could smell and it made Sarikh giggle. It also made people stare at him but he once again wasn’t sure why.

He looked into every open room and listened to every word. Maker, demons and blood magic - it was all a blur of useless words for Sarikh. The only thing he wanted to find was a window or a crack in the walls that would let him see what the real sun and sky look like.

Instead he found old men arguing. Ah, he knew them. The angry templar, the old Enchanter he was supposed to meet and the hmm… this one was new. Sarikh couldn’t remember him, which meant he was from outside the tower. Exciting! He was a human - clad in shining armor, dark in skin and hair, broad and tall. His eyes were almost black, but bright and determined under the scarce light of the heavy chambers. A knight perhaps?

“Gentlemen, please. Irving, someone is here to see you.” - The man from the outside interrupted and everyone turned to Sarikh. They might have stared at the knight a little too long because the templar, Greagoir, coughed to break the awkward silence so he could leave:

“Well Irving, you are obviously busy. We will discuss this later.”

Irving sighed, tired, but still gave Sarikh a warm smile inviting them to come into the office. Sarikh froze in silence, not knowing what to say. The First Enchanter bore many a memory in the mind of his late friend. Stern and appraising in ways that have made the old Sarikh miserable… He felt a prickle in his heart and had to blink a few times to back down the tears. Another thing he cannot fix.

“H-hello.” - Sarikh pressed out of himself.

“This is?..” - the knight asked. He studied Sarikh with as much interest as they had, maybe just a tinge more dignified in expressing it. Sarikh was an elf, much shorter than most, pale as paper, a poof of dark red hair and red eyes to match, a friendly smile resting on his lips.

“Yes, this is he.” - Irving confirmed, warm and proud. - “Congratulations are in order to our new brother in The Circle.”

“Thank you!” - Sarikh said a lot louder than they anticipated and turned their gaze to the knight to hide the anxiety. The knight only gave a polite smile in return but they could feel his interest spike.

“I see you are much curious about our guest. This is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens. ” - The First Enchanter said.

“A Grey Warden? In the tower?” - Sarikh… vaguely knew of them. In the Fade he has witnessed all kinds of legends and tales from the dreams and the spirits. He couldn’t always understand them but he knew that humans loved heroes and deeds that felt larger than life. And Wardens were one such a thing.

“Grey Wardens go wherever duty sends them.” - Duncan said and it felt like he meant it.

“You’ve heard of the war brewing to the south, I expect? Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king’s army at Ostagar.”

Sarikh’s eyes went wide with excitement, his hair poofed up.

“I want to defend our kingdom!” - he blurted out. That would get him out of the tower, wouldn’t it? Duncan let out a hearty laugh and Sarikh’s cheeks burned red.

“What an eager little fellow, you have here.” - Duncan teased.

“He was always very diligent.” - Irving confirmed more to himself than to anyone else. - “But you mustn't be so hasty Sarikh, you only just passed your Harrowing after all. Have at least a little levity before thinking of war.”

“Yeah-yeah… I will.” - Sarikh mumbled disappointed, looking at the floor. Irving, seemingly satisfied, waved at him to go.

“For now, enjoy your day, rest, and be so kind, show Duncan to the guest quarters… I have some things to discuss with Gregoir.”

“With pleasure!” - Sarikh said, again, way too excited.

—-

“So you wish to be a Warden?” - Duncan asked as they walked through the tower. Sarikh was marching him around every chamber, choosing the longest way to get around. One might think that they were doing this on purpose, but Duncan couldn’t help but notice how confused the young mage looked every time he would open a door and it would be a broom closet or someone else’s quarters entirely…

“I do!” - Sarikh turned to Duncan, his bright red eyes almost sparkling. They didn’t want to sound desperate but - “Would you take someone like me?”

“Someone like you?” - Duncan wondered. Sarikh let out a nervous breath.

“Well, from what I’ve heard about The Wardens…. You are strong and-and… heroic warriors that can take on a legion if you wanted to. And I’m just well… me.”

“A lot of people are just people at the end of the day, Sarikh. Strength doesn’t always come in abundance of muscle or magic power.”

“Oh.”

“Sometimes it’s about being persistent and very very stubborn.”

Duncan watched Sarikh open another door, look inside, blush and close it immediately.

“Well, I hope it doesn't also require a good sense of direction then.” - Sarikh said in a most pathetic tone.

“That’s why you bring the king of Ferelden with you.”

“What?”

“Hm.” - Duncan smiled at something distant in his thoughts.

“Are you going to have the king with you too?” - they asked, not sure if the man was joking or not.

“Hopefully, only for an inspirational speech. Do not worry, though, we have maps if the need arises.”

“Good, good.” - Sarikh nodded satisfied. They opened the last door in the hall and it was an empty and unlived bedroom. - “Ah! These must be the guest quarters.”

“And what if it is not?” - Duncan asked. What little confidence Sarikh had, immediately left them.

“Umm.. finders keepers?” - they said after thinking really hard for a minute. Duncan let out a laugh.

“Well. I can’t argue with that logic.”

[thedragonagelesbian]

The Fool: When has your character been excited to start a new journey?

The Devil: Does your character ever neglect their wild side?

The Magician in Reverse: When was your character manipulated?

The Empress in Reverse: When has your character felt dependent on another?

Judgment in Reverse: When has your character found it difficult to forgive themselves?

Major Arcana asks!

I'll go ahead and answer for my blood mage Surana, Luc!

The Fool: When has your character been excited to start a new journey?

For a lot of the game, Luc struggles with feeling just about any positive emotion, excitement included. Even leaving the Circle for the first time is soured by the 'pressed into the Grey Wardens under threat of dying/being made Tranquil for openly collaborating with Jowan' of it all.

By the end, though, he is excited to start his life after the Blight as (romanced) King Alistair's court enchanter. The intensity of that desire scares him (and causes a major breakdown in the AU where they break up after Alistair becomes king), but he's learning to trust these feelings and be comfortable with the idea that he actually has a future now that he wants for himself.

The Devil: Does your character ever neglect their wild side?

I don't think Luc has a wild side the way that I'd conceive of it as like uninhibited party animal, but he is a profoundly reckless character. See: the background context for Empress in Reverse and him deserting the party; mouthing off to a lot of authority figures; being a blood mage (and using that blood magic in really inopportune moments like, say, when clearing the Circle tower in front of Wynne, or in front of Ser Cauthrien before she arrests him for treason and drags him to Fort Drakon)

So it's less that Luc neglects his wild side and more that he sorely needs to stop trying to provoke the universe into delivering him an early grave so he can tell himself that he was making a choice in being destroyed. Developing a sense of responsibility and growing into the demands of a Grey Warden are huge parts of his character arc. He has to learn to be cautious & thoughtful enough to stay alive long enough to save the world.

The Magician in Reverse: When was your character manipulated?

Luc is pretty savvy and doesn't like being told what to do, which makes him harder to manipulate than some (/looks at Cyrus' overly trusting ass/). I think the one big exception is Zathrian. Luc really wants Zathrian to like him, because he reflexively respects and admires him and because he's never earned the approval of an elven authority figure before. He doesn't question Zathrian's story about the werewolves, their motives, and how to cure the infected Dalish elves, and he ends up siding with Zathrian instead of brokering peace.

The Empress in Reverse: When has your character felt dependent on another?

Background context: The party goes to Redcliffe first after Lothering, leading inevitably to the 'Isolde or Connor' decision. Luc chooses to kill Isolde to enter the Fade, and the ensuing fall-out between him and Alistair (after becoming very fast friends at Ostagar) is apocalyptic. Already being predisposed to avoid responsibility, Luc deserts with the intention of returning to the Circle. And if the templars kill him, well, better than the darkspawn.

...And then he (alone with the mabari who has dutifully followed him) runs into Zevran's ambush.

And Zevran quickly does the calculus of 'this isn't going to be the failed assassination ending in my death that I was hoping for, this is going to be the slaughter of a terrified elven mageling' and decides to save Luc instead.

Luc isn't great at gratitude, but he latches on to Zevran immediately afterward.

Judgment in Reverse: When has your character found it difficult to forgive themselves?

Not caring is a good way to avoid needing to forgive yourself for anything, but by extension Luc ends up feeling silly & childish when he does care, which usually manifests as ugly crying, and getting angry at himself for crying, and then crying harder. It's hard to forgive himself for feeling things.

I also think in the AU where he and Alistair break up (and Luc ends up with Zevran instead), Luc feels a good measure of regret for putting Alistair on the throne. It's not entirely against his wishes, since it was the 'hardened!Alistair kills Loghain and automatically declares himself to be the king' scenario, but Luc recognizes that his interest in pushing Alistair to be king was very selfish, wanting the safety & comfort that being the king's paramour would entail. But... he didn't get that, and Alistair ends up alone, and when Luc has enough distance from the break up, he does feel kind of shitty about it.

[stitchthesewords]

I'm having many thoughts about many things tonight.

Where did the rift come from. How long has it been there or has it slowly been growing.

Is it like a Venus fly trap, does jt have a weird affect on those around jt

I guess a better analogy is like a moth to the flame

Where is grian from and why doesn't he look like other avians

Is he from another reality/universe

And if so then why is he there? What was hw running from at the start or was it just the rift

Is the rift sentient?

How does scars magic work, specifically the glyph thing he put on the back of grians neck and on mumbos too and why was it cold?

What.does scars staff look like?

*also mumbo and scar very gay

Where did you get the inspiration from. The rift au?

(I know you probably can't answer alot of these because spoilers but yeah)

You are correct in that I can't answer some of this unfortunately. But, you know what, I CAN answer some of it.

The Rift comes from [REDACTED] and it [REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED] :)

Well I'll tell ya. Does it? Does it not? I think looking at light w tentacles made of light that can grab things would have a weird affect on anyone - but as to the rift itself ACTUALLY having an effect? who knows.

Grian is from [REDACTED] and [REDACTED SO MUCH REDACTED OH MY GOD REDACTED REDACTED WOW ITS REALLY DARK IN HERE REDACTED REDACTED]

As to what he was running from - well. THAT will be answered his soon! :)

Is the rift sentient. This one is interesting. I think uhhh yes? Sort of? It definitely has some way to think for itself. namely bc it is my babygirl and i said so but there are also story implications there.

SO Scar's magic - Do you remember the xp potion fountain that Mumbo made. I'm not going to write out in so many words 'scar used this many levels' - instead the way it works in Rift au is that XP orbs are absorbed through the skin and you can feel the magic lightly buzzing underneath your skin until you use it. It's such a common thing for people that it's something they don't notice anymore - but its what powers things like enchanting, spellcasting, naming things on an anvil bc in Rift AU anything that gets a name on an anvil now has like. a Name. Like capital N Name. So its a Name that carries weight to it, be it for spellcasting or for history making - but people can name other things without needing xp. The other thing is that it deteriorates over time in Rift AU so people can't just sit on it forever. NOW as to Scar's magic - it'll be explained why later but just know he needs this energy first and foremost to be Alive and THEN needs bonus energy to cast spells. He is always topping off his energy as is any other elves or fae in the world [there will be others!! Cub, for example] - Vexes and Allays and some other mobs similarly depend on this energy in order to keep existing. So as to the glyphs. Those glyphs allow Scar to A. Sense where they are at all times in a sort of vague sense. I haven't gotten to use it and also write from Scar's POV yet but he basically feels a gentle tug in the direction that Grian and Mumbo are. He was able to use this tug to follow Grian down into the caves through the way - since he could see Mumbo it was easy to pick out where Grian's tugging went. B. There is a special kind of map which allows him to see more or less exactly where they are. Obviously, if they're underground or say, in the Nether or End, they won't show up on an overworld map but. He does have a map.

So I imagine that Scar's staff is a wooden staff. It is NOT a carved wooden staff, like for example the staves Scar and Tubbo use in Midnight. Instead, as you might've noticed, this wood is alive. Scar's staff started as a branch on his treehouse - the tree is sort of a living amalgamation of a bunch of trees. They're all sort of in a ring and form one tree going up but they can move and twist as Scar needs based on his magic. The staff is the same way. It is a living extension of Scar's tree so it can be a staff or shift in his hands to form a cane when he needs to lean. I imagine it being like, one thicker bit of wood surrounded by thinner twigs? And there is a gemstone [I believe I made it an emerald - I'm currently doing my own reread of my AU whoops] embedded in the top of the staff which, when the staff is a cane, is embedded in the end of the 'handle'

^ The staff is sort of this vibe. Uh thinner, and not an actual tree, but like. Stripped wood and/or smooth bark with woodsy vines/twigs running its entire length. As to the actual shap, that sort of changes day by day. It is a living tree, sort of, and they do move. This one moves more than a tree IRL but it does move. I think it tends to be sort of straight but kind of warbly or crooked in a way? It's a very casual looking walking stick most of the time, since I imagine Scar is a semi-casual dude. sort of. He's more casual in rift au than he is in Midnight.

*nods sagely* mumbo n scar very gay

As to inspiration - I just kind of took the early episodes of S9 and kind of mashed a bunch of stuff together. Genuinely, my only inspiration for this was hermitcraft - well. + the life series. But I went from what they were doing on hc and said "huh you know i think it would be cool if this mechanic worked like this or if this was like that' until the puzzle pieces fit together. Fun fact the only thing that was set in stone when I started rift au was that Grian was a grey parrot who did not look like other avians! and the rest of everything you're reading is just riffing off HC.

^ As a bonus, Grian in my mind is based of an African Grey Parrot! So - the red tail feathers my beloved.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Imma focus on To Be Kind and To Love Yourself Worldstates

Caoimhe Tabris is 100% best friends with Zevran, Leliana and Shale. Zevran because both had a lot to talk about regarding humans and their actions to elves, while Leliana was because both women are very kind people who strive to be good people. Caoimhe 100% softened her and the two just vibed. Shale became a best friend because Caoimhe was curious about her, and later because both liked shiny things. The dynamics between all three differ. Zev and Caoimhe like to complain and bitch at one another about things while also trading tips on weapon care. Leliana and Caoimhe just were very kind people who did a lot of discussing on how people hurting them doesn’t give them the right to hurt others, and discussing mortality. Shale and Caoimhe were battle buddies who loved a pretty rock or two.

Riley Cousland’s best friend was Alistair. She got along with everyone else but there was just something about them being the only Grey Wardens together that had her bonding with him more. Riley was more serious than Alistair but she had a wicked joke at her lips when needed and often played along with his jokes. The two also talked a lot about duty and bloodlines. They are just a very good pair of friends who went through the same shit. I like to imagine that Riley can also stride into Denerim at any time and Alistair just drops everything to hang out. She has 100% picked him up for Darkspawn hunting when he beeds to just kill things.

Ivy Hawk is very different depending on which world state. In to Be Kind, she was closest with Varric and Sebastian. She was friends with everyone but Varric was the guy who did not judge her or make comments. He was there when she needed to sit and rest in her own thoughts, or when she needed to rant. Sebastian is mostly because Ivy struggled a lot and sometimes turned to the Chant to find answers. Sebastian was there to listen and the two developed a quiet sort of deep friendship based on the fact both had pretty bad parents.

Now, in To Love Yourself, Varric was still a good friend but Ivy really vibed more with Merrill because her different opinions on magic just made sense to Ivy more then what her father taught (and oooo boy that relationship was a trash fire). Ivy really liked spending time with Merrill who offered more insight into magic that Ivy did begin to learn to love herself.

Revas Lavellan is fun. My OG thoughts on this jock is that she’s besties with Bull and to be fair she does hang out with him for a while at first UNTIL I ended up taking him to Redcliff and woo boy. The hut with the skulls, his comment… Revas’s story contains that her sister was made Tranquil and Harel is still around. Yeah Revas dropped him like a hot coal and started hanging around Blackwall and Sera more. Those guys are just her speed. Revas and Blackwall are just the people who talk about wood carving, share war stories (Revas has a lot of stories about Darkspawn and fighting off bandits) and compare fighting styles. When the truth comes out, Revas truly gets running from something and sees how Blackwall is trying to atone. They become closer through this, the idea of atonement and doing good .With Sera on the other hand Revas was more playful and laid back. Playing games, pulling pranks and just living. The two grew close through Revas finding a spark she’d lost long ago, a childish one.

With Harel Lavellan (same one, the universes are AUs of each other. This one has Harel not being tranquil and a dead Revas) her best friends were actually Vivienne and Dorian. Harel and Vivienne are both powerful mages who enjoy talking about potions but also both challenge each other frequently about things. Harel challenges Vivienne on her ideas of Circle, Vivienne challenges Harel on her knowledge. Both are very smart and can play political games (Harel has a long history of dealing with that as a Keeper’s First) and they just like each other. Dorian and Harel are both necromancers who enjoy playing chess together. They really get closer through debates to and just vibing in general. Nerds.

no more romance. romance is canceled. tell me about your warden/hawke/inquisitor's best friend and any info you want to add about their dynamic 🖐

[sweetestofchaos]

I Loathe You || K.NJ

✘ paring: dark elf!namjoon x human!reader

✘ rating/au/genre: m (18+), fantasy au, hate smut

✘ summary: As a Dark Elf, Namjoon hates humans...so what happens when he finds out the object of his lust is one?

✘ word count: 2.6K (rounded up 5 words lol)

✘ warnings: sex work, dubcon, unprotected sex (magic is used as a contraceptive), ass smacking, choking, cursing, hair pulling, degradation (whore), oral (m!receiving), breathe play, crying, knife play, mentions of blood, scratching, interspecies relationship, platinum haired namjoon, frenum piercing!namjoon, big dick!namjoon...namjoon isn’t nice in this, like at all. he’s an asshole

a/n: Inspired by @vvh0adie​ after they saw this wonderful piece of artwork by @/elizabesu (not tagging in case they don’t read fanfiction). I stayed up until 5am writing this...I hope you enjoy it hun! 

a/n 2: I’m really bad at describing outfits, so this is what Namjoon is wearing if you can’t visualize it.

Masterlist

Namjoon walks the streets alone. It is getting late but he is young and has time to waste. The Golden Rope is overflowing with music and laughter as the beer is passed around from patron to patron. From his current place, Namjoon can see that the brothel is packed, and he scowls at the thought of his favorite hole being unavailable to service him. Sweeping his eyes over the semi empty street, Namjoon takes notice of a woman that is watching him from across the way. One look at her brown skin tells Namjoon that she isn’t a Dark Elf like himself, he wonders if maybe she is a wolf. Which he deeply hopes not… maybe a Wood Fae. The Fae women always make such pretty sounds when Namjoon indulges in his more carnal urges.

Knowing that the rooms in the brothel are at max occupancy, Namjoon smirks to himself as he runs a hand through his platinum hair. How long has it been since he fucked under the red moons? His onyx eyes glitter at the thought, the woman’s body from what he can see is inviting enough. She has more weight on her thighs than most Dark Elves and that is tempting. How will those thighs feel squeezed around his waist as he takes her over and over again? Will her skin bruise at all or just absorb the shock? Namjoon licks his lips at the thought. Catching the woman’s eyes once again, Namjoon raises a dark eyebrow, and the woman walks into the space between The Golden Rope and the storage building beside it. ‘Clever girl’, Namjoon thinks and follows the young woman into the dark.

Seeing the woman leant against the wall, Namjoon strides right up to her and tucks a twisted strand of hair behind her ears. He sees no pointed tips, so clearly, she isn’t a Fae of any kind…pity. A wolf will have to do, with her looks, Namjoon is willing to overlook it. Her eyes remind him of fresh honey in the sunlight, warm and soft. Namjoon cups the woman’s jaw gently in his palm and smooths his thumb over her glossy lips.

“Quite the distance from your land little wench.” Namjoon stares down at the woman and she blinks up at him, her lip’s part slightly to allow Namjoon to slide his thumb between them. As she sucks on his thumb, Namjoon cannot help but think his plum skin tone compliments her brown skin nicely. “From which land do you come?” Namjoon removes his thumb from her lips and smears her spit over her lips and chin as he waits for her to answer.

“Does that matter?” The woman reaches out and touches the bare skin of Namjoon’s chest that his white blouse doesn’t cover. For it being late into the Fall the weather is still warm in Peolomos and Namjoon has no need to protect his body from any harsh conditions.

Namjoon chuckles as his question is meant with another question. He tilts her face up towards him and skims his nose along her hairline. “Name your price little wench.”

The woman shivers as one of Namjoon’s hands glides across the exposed skin of her chest, just grazing the top of her breasts. Looking at the gold rings on Namjoon’s fingers the woman licks her lips, “Three bornihn.” The woman leans in to kiss Namjoon and he pulls his face away with a deep laugh.

“Only three bornihn little wench?” Namjoon twirls a twisted lock of her hair around his finger and trails his nose along the length of her neck. “Tell me which land you were born, and I’ll give you one mihot.” The woman’s eyes widen at the offered amount and Namjoon kisses her pulse point teasingly. “What do you say?”

The woman runs her hands up Namjoon’s chest and starts to untie the black accent scarf around from around his neck. She can see thick golden lines inked into his skin and her mouth waters. “What is your name?”

“Namjoon…and yours?” Namjoon feels the woman’s body tense at his name, does she know who he is? “Come now,” Namjoon purrs as he strokes the side of the woman’s face. “I don’t bite…unless you beg for it.”

The woman pulls away from Namjoon and places her hand on his chest to push him away. Namjoon stares down at the woman and as she stares up at him something clicks as he takes her in. Her skin isn’t flawless but it’s clearly than any wolf he has ever seen up close. Her clothing is modest, showing far less skin than a wolf and her scent…there is no earthy undertone of any kind. Namjoon’s eyes harden at the realization and the woman flinches.

“You little whore!” Namjoon snaps as rage courses through his body. How dare she! How dare t-this human touch him like that! In the blink of an eye, Namjoon grabs the woman’s wrist, and she cries out from the sudden movement. Namjoon glares as he yanks the scarf from around his neck and bounds her hands together. Hands tied tightly at her wrists, Namjoon pushes the woman harshly against the wall, her head bounces and black spots fill her vision. Namjoon’s inky eyes glare at the woman as tears flood her waterline. “I should rip out your throat and watch you choke on your own blood, human.” Namjoon’s hand wraps around her delicate neck and the woman struggles to breath as Namjoon squeezes, the tip of his black nails piercing the skin and drawing blood.

“Beg for life. Even more beg for my cock. That is all you humans care about. Selfish disgusting infestations on the rest of the world!” Namjoon’s grip on the woman’s neck tightens even more and thin rivers of her blood cascade down the front of her blouse, staining the white fabric a bright red. The woman can’t speak, her voice is being crushed by Namjoon’s hand. Her tears fall as she tries to call for help and Namjoon’s free hand quickly covers her mouth and nose making it even harder to breathe.

“Beg. For. It.” Namjoon seethes, the blackened tips of his fingers starting to burn hot from his anger. He pulls his hand away from the woman’s face and loosens his hold for a moment around her neck.

“I d-did nothing wr-”

Namjoon growls not wanting to hear her voice anymore and with a snap of his fingers a golden rune appears on the woman’s lips and her voice is gone. Namjoon clicks his tongue as he watches the woman panic. ‘Pathic’, he thinks to himself and pushes her down onto her knees in front of his flaccid dick hanging partly out of his high waisted trousers. Fisting the black twists of hair into his hand, Namjoon jerks the woman forward and narrows his eyes.

“Well?!” He snaps and the woman is quick to pull his dick completely free from its confinement. He watches as she hesitates to open her mouth and Namjoon growls. “Useless fucking thing you are.” He slaps her across the face, the impact making her head turn to the side. “Do you job, whore!”

Steeling her nerves, the woman faces Namjoon’s dick and it’s big. Bigger than what she’s use to, the tip is a deep plum almost black that gets lighter towards the base that is covered is dark brown pubic hair. A simple golden hoop shines from the underside of Namjoon dick and before the woman can see anything more, Namjoon snaps his hips forward and shoves himself down her throat. The woman gages, her throat constricting around Namjoon slowly stiffening dick. Glaring at the woman below him, Namjoon starts to jerk her head up and down his dick, the imprint of it visible against her throat. Namjoon smirks at the sight and fucks the woman’s face faster. Her tears mix with her drool, and she places her hands on Namjoon’s thighs trying her best not to fall over from the sheer force of Namjoon’s thrusts. She can feel her stomach clenching with each bump against her uvula from the head of Namjoon’s dick. This shouldn’t be making her cunt wet, but she has always liked to mix pain with her pleasure.

That’s the main reason she chose to leave Appeven, the men and women there just were not doing it for her anymore. She had her fun in Eodropia, with the witches and warlocks; they are not a bad bunch, but she craves something more. Seeing that the woman is miles away in her own mind, Namjoon pulls her off him and throws her to the ground.

“Up,” Namjoon orders as the woman coughs and sputters silently, catching her breath. “Up!” Namjoon grabs her hair once again and the woman scrambles onto her hands and knees, struggling to keep her balance due to her wrists still being tied by Namjoon’s scarf. Pushing her skirt up past the woman’s ass, Namjoon feels his dick twitch at the sight of her thick thighs. The light from the moons above casts a red hue on the woman’s skin and Namjoon doesn’t miss the clear, sticky fluid on the woman’s thighs. He glares and raises his hand, sending it through the air and landing a harsh hit on the back of the woman’s thighs. The sound echoes in the night and the woman lurches forward nearly falling face first into the ground. If she could make a sound, Namjoon knows that the woman would have moaned.

Namjoon notices a thin leather band strapped to the woman’s upper thigh and he laughs. “Did you honestly think you could protect yourself with this?” Namjoon pulls the small dagger from the sheath on the woman’s leg and laughs again. “Humans truly are daft.” Pressing the blade to the woman’s skin, Namjoon watches as the flesh gives way and the woman shivers as he slowly drags the blade down the length of her thigh. The cut is shallow, a surface wound at best but Namjoon’s dick throbs painfully at the sight. The blood coats her thigh in a thin layer, making her skin glow even brighter under the red moons. Dropping the small blade and leaning forward, Namjoon’s tongue darts out and he licks the blood. Namjoon cleans the skin with his black tongue and plump lips as he sucks at the tender flesh.

The woman’s body quivers the moment Namjoon’s breath washes over her cunt and he inhales deeply before he pulls away. “Disgusting whore. So wet for me and my dick…you’re beneath me.” Namjoon straightens up on his knees and lines the head of his dick up with the woman’s clenching entrance. Remembering just who is in front of him, Namjoon snaps his fingers once again and another golden rune appears, this time on the woman’s stomach. “Don’t fret, human. I would not dare create a horrid beast such as a halfling with the likes of you.”

Gripping onto her hips, Namjoon smirks and gives a low whistle before slams his hips forward and the woman screams out as she’s impaled on Namjoon’s dick. Air rushes into her lungs and she whines as her walls stretch wildly, desperately trying to accommodate Namjoon’s size. Harsh and fast, Namjoon fucks into the woman, her screams bouncing off the buildings around them as she cries from pain and pleasure. The golden rune on her lips is gone and Namjoon bites his lip as his head drops down. He watches as her thighs jiggle with each thrust, the skin rippling like water as her ass takes each rough smack of his pelvis. ‘Body like a hot spring,’ Namjoon shakes the thought from his head and clicks his tongue. “Disgusting.”

Her velvet like walls squeeze around Namjoon’s dick like a vice and he growls, leaning over the woman’s back to wraps a hand around her throat. His lips touch her ear, and he grunts, “Why so desperate for my cock, human?” Namjoon’s voice is rough as the heat in his fingertips stings the skin around the woman’s neck; she moans. “I loathe you. Everything about your kind is…repulsive.” Namjoon’s balls slap against her clit and her eyes roll to the back of her head. Namjoon digs his nails into her skin once again, drawing more blood.

“Such a waste of a perfect cunt on a whore like you.” Holding himself up using core strength, Namjoon uses his free hand to grab the woman’s wrist and yank them both up onto their knees. The woman wails as Namjoon sinks deeper, the tip of his dick jabbing the sweetest spot inside of her. Throwing the woman’s bound wrists over his head, Namjoon drags his nails down her throat and cups her breasts into his hand while the other digs into the plump meat of her inner thigh. The woman moans his name as she loses herself in the pleasure.

“N-Namjoon! Yes! Yesss!”

Namjoon is rough with his kneading and when the woman suddenly comes Namjoon curses, throwing his head back as he fucks her through it. His stomach clenches and his breathing becomes ragged as he ruts into the woman with a harsher tempo. His body tenses and his breath escapes him for a moment as he fills her womb with his seed. The golden rune on her stomach shines brightly before the scent of turpentine and cotton fills the air.

Pulling out, Namjoon throws the woman to the ground and falls back against the building, heaving as he catches his breath. Meanwhile the woman picks up the discarded dagger and holds it with trembling hands as she glares at Namjoon. Hot tears are streaming down her face and Namjoon pays her no mind as he tucks himself back into his trousers and runs a hand through his damp hair. He frowns as he pulls his hand away and stares at the blood. There better not be blood in his hair.

“Y-You’re a monster!” The woman points the dagger at Namjoon, and he lets out a humorless laugh that makes every hair on the woman’s body stand up. “P-Pay up!”

Namjoon stands to his full height and takes a step towards the woman; she flinches and the dagger tumbles from her hands. Namjoon sneers as he picks the dagger up and grabs the woman by the back of her neck, lifting her off the ground.

“You want me to pay, you?” Namjoon twirls the dagger in his free hand and points the blade right in her face. “You are worthless.” Dropping the woman, Namjoon tosses the blade towards the ground and the woman shouts as the blade slices through the bindings on her wrists. Snapping his fingers once more, Namjoon’s outfit is completely free of any blood and body fluids while the woman is crumbled on the ground covered in blood and leaking his seed between her legs. “See you around, human.” Namjoon points to her wrist and sure enough there are small golden runes that spell out Namjoon’s initials on the inside of her wrist.

She isn’t stupid, she knows that Namjoon has marked her with what is most likely a summoning spell. The gall, after everything that he has done to her body. The woman glares up at Namjoon and he scoffs before he leaves her alone in the darkened space. Staring down at the runes, the woman bites her lip, her whole-body hurts and she isn’t sure that she can even stand up, yet alone walk. The pigheaded ox could have at least dropped her off at her inn.

[cousinslavellan-archive]

❝  every time you smile at me,  i memorize it.  i remember each moment that i get to be the one to bring out that light inside you.  no matter what happens between us,  that’s what i’ll remember.   ❞

For whatever pairing you'd like! 🥰

@scribesofcalamity

Astarion X MC, Modern AU. No Mindflayers here just fluff and some slight angst vibes at the end. @scribesofcalamity ty for the prompt I ended up using it for my BG3 kiddo and Astarion months later haha ♥♥

It’s a night like any other, really. The only difference is that they’re in her bed instead of his.

The sheets are twisted about them as they cling to each other, gasps and sighs and moans the only sounds in the room as they finish, bodies pressed close and slicked with sweat.

Adalynn has lost count of the nights and days spent in bed like this - why should she keep track, when every encounter is just as intoxicating as the first? They’ve made no true promises to each other, but they are dating - and she is content with that, she tells herself, hands running idly down his back as he pulls gingerly from her body.

Astarion doesn’t pull fully away, though, staying pressed close and nuzzling into her throat, lips and tongue working to clean up the small mess he’d made while lost in feeling.

Adalynn swats at him with a laugh, ticklish, still giggling even as the touches gentle, paying careful attention to the fresh bite wounds.

The laugher subsides as she feels him pull back, eyes opening to smile brilliantly up at him - the vampire never far away, only leaning on an elbow to watch her.

There’s something in his gaze that makes her pause, though - some depth of emotion she can’t pinpoint, a determined squint that’s out of place in their usual post-frolick teasing.

“Astarion?”

“Yes, my dear?”

Her lips twitch up again, an automatic response to the endearment. “You look so serious - is something wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, remaining silent for a long moment. His eyes stay locked on her face, a press to his lips that has her sincerely concerned - before he finally answers, in a tone she’s not sure she’s heard him use before.

“Every time you smile at me, I memorize it.” Astarion lifts a hand to cup her face, thumb stroking over the corner of her lips. “I have lived a long, long life, and I can count on one hand the amount of times that someone has smiled - truly smiled - because of me, for me, since being turned.”

Adalynn stares at him for a moment, startled by this sudden admission - opening her mouth to respond only to be shushed by a finger against her lips.

“I’m not finished, love.” he watches her for a moment, waiting for an indication to continue, then clears his throat, glancing briefly away.

“Vampires… well, even elves… we have long, long memories. And I remember each moment that I’ve made you smile, each moment that I get to be the one to bring out that light inside of you. It’s intoxicating, in a way… and a little unnerving.”

“I haven’t allowed myself to care for someone this deeply… ever, truth be told. I hadn’t had the chance before the incident, and, well…”

“Astarion…”

“I guess what I’m trying to say, is…no matter what happens between us, or what happens after you…” he scowls deeply for a moment, shaking the thought away with a rough cough, “...that’s what I’ll remember. How bright you shine for me, always.”

Adalynn bites her lip, blinking furiously when she feels moisture gathering in her eyes. She tries to smile again and knows it comes out watery, laughing a little at the panicked look that overtakes Astarion’s previously serious expression.

“I said that wrong, didn’t I? Hells, you know I’m not good at this sort of-”

She stops his rambling by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him back down on top of her, hugging him close. There’s a moment where he stiffens before relaxing and letting his arms slip down and under her to squeeze her in return, his breath a warm caress over her throat.

“We have lots of time, Astarion.” Adalynn whispers in his ear, tail slinking up to wrap around his thigh, “I’ll make sure you have plenty to remember me by.”

Astarion’s answer is a groan against her skin, fangs dragging over her pulse before he kisses the spot in apology.

Not for the first time, a little voice in her mind whispers that she could turn, stay with him, but she shoves it down, tightening her grip around him.

That discussion can wait. For now, all that matters is the man wrapped around her, his undead heart for once laid bare.

[totiredtowrite]

I love how everyones just agreed that daishou is a naga in a fantasy au

Snake

Warnings - cursing, unedited

Note: He could strangle me and I'd apologize. Also tf is his eye colour???

Male Reader - Fem Readers DNI or you're a horrible person who disrespects boundaries of writers :)

You had one job.

All you had to do was pick something up from the market. Your village healer only needed like ten things! Of course you just had to be the nice guy and get it for her.

Still though it was rather rewarding. She was a nice old lady, anyone in the village would do things to help her out. You sighed, furrowing your brows angrily. You should have just let Hanamaki do it. After all, he was the navigator. He'd done it before. He wouldn't get turned around at the simplest fork in the path!

With another heavy sigh, you pulled yourself off of the forest floor. No point in sitting about, right? The place was beautiful, even if it was a little too close to the swamps for your liking.

It's not like the naga and the elves hated each other. No, they were more just...wary. Existing so near to one another made sure that both always knew what the other was up to. You weren't exactly neighbours, (being almost a mile away), but there weren't any other villages in the area. Or, in the snakes case, nests.

Not to mention how the peace treaty kept them at a distance. Most of the younger elves in your village have never seen a Naga. You included. Not that you were that young, though you never had a reason. Training with Oikawa and the rest of the fighters in the village took up most of your time anyway.

Speaking of, you were starting to be thankful that Oikawa makes you train so hard. The walk was starting to near a couple hours.

You rubbed your face. This was bullshit. And how did you even get lost so bad you ended up in the swamps? Well, the outskirts of the swamps, but it still counts. The trees were starting to droop more, vines hanging off of every other one. You stepped in a puddle occasionally, cursing every time you did.

On the bright side, (at least), you knew now to walk in the opposite direction to get home.

You will walk in the opposite direction.

The...opposite...direction.

Or not.

What was the worst that could happen? You were already about two miles away from the market, and there were things in the swamps that you needed. You only had to go a couple yards in, it's not like you were going to wander straight into the heart of the nest.

You drew in a controlled breath. Naga don't typically take strolls along the outside of their nest anyways.

Taking another step in, you started to calm down. The only sounds you could hear were the birds and your own footsteps. The sound every time your boot collided with the ground was rather disgusting, the dampened landscape getting progressively wetter.

You were a couple minutes in, (still not having found the plant you needed), when you heard it.

Even never coming face to face with one, the sound was unmistakable. The only accurate word you could think of was slithering. Like a giant snake making it's way through the swamp.

You froze up instinctively, long, pointed ears twitching to try and catch the sound again. Nothing but your own laboured breathing.

Slowly, after a minute of a whole lot of nothing, your hand creeped towards the dagger in your boot. You knew it was just a supplies run, but better safe than sorry right? Maybe the Naga passed by already.

If you'd turned your head even slightly though, maybe you wouldn't have missed the pair of glowing green eyes watching you.

And maybe you wouldn't be in this position right now.

You couldn't describe how it happened because you weren't even sure how it happened. He moved surprisingly fast for how cumbersome that giant tail must be. Your dagger had clattered to the ground, the murky green blue of his tail coiled around your body.

"Well," his eyes still seemed to glow at you, "What's an elf doing all the way out here?"

You snapped out of your momentary entrancement to actually take in the situation. His eyes, slanted like all Naga, took in every little movement. He actually seemed relatively put together, hair looking tame and neatly parted to one side. His face was rather cut and slim, cheekbones sharp and pronounced. Hell, if he wasn't a Naga he'd still look like a snake.

His tail tightened around you slightly, urging you to answer the question. You sputtered a bit at it. "Well I could ask the same! Your kind don't wander the outskirts like this!" You attempted to sound commanding, hiding the discomfort in your voice.

Luckily he didn't pick up on the fear in your tone, instead giving you a harsh glare and momentarily squeezing you. You let out another harsh breath. "Well at least I'm on my territory."

You were about to retaliate, but you fell short. He was right in a sense. No words were exchanged for a moment. The snake leaned in further narrowing his eyes further, (if that was even possible), and studying your features. "So it's true then?" He finally said something.

You regarded him with confusion.

"About your kind," he poked at the satchel that you'd also dropped. "They're all pretty."

You blanked. You were about to comment on the fact that 'ruggedly handsome' might be a better term, but ultimately decided against it. All elves, regardless of shape or size, gender or skin tone, were ultimately just...better, in a sense. Stronger, faster, they lived longer, and, as he said, prettier.

"Have you never seen an elf before," You sneered instead.

"Have you never seen a Naga?" He shot back quickly, head tilting slightly. Seeming more comfortable, he had a sly smirk on his face.

You didn't respond.

He laughed almost tauntingly. "Dont look so confident elf," he leaned in closer, to the point where you could feel his breath on your lips. "What makes you think I won't wring," you felt his tail shifting, "You," it got tighter, "Dry?"

You attempted to scoff, the sound being cut short at the pressure on your chest. "And-" you took in a breath, "And break the peace treaty? No way," you let out a raspy laugh.

He let something else take up his attention. His hands lifted to your ears, long, slender fingers trailing along them and prodding at the pointed tips. You shuddered. His hands were cold. Unsurprising of course, but still catching you off guard.

"Would you cut that out! Just tell me your name and let me go!" You snapped.

"Someones impatient," he, quite literally, hissed. In all honesty, listening to him speak was somewhat addicting. You'd thought it was just a stereotype, how half snake people always dragged out the 'S' in the words they say. As it turns out you were wrong.

"Okay, let's just keep this civil." You exhaled slowly. "My name is (l/n) (y/n), I'm trying to find something for my village medic. Who are you?"

He eyes you suspiciously before responding. "Daishou. I'm just...patrolling."

You nodded, pushing your arms out slightly. You were still wrapped in his tail.

Sending your discomfort, Daishou loosened his grip. The sound of his tails grip going slack following soon after his realization. You sighed with relief, slumping to the ground as he repositioned himself to face you.

It took you a moment to look up.

"What are you looking at," he hissed at you.

In truth, everything. His scales were brighter than you thought Naga usually were, green blue and muted yellow. "Nothing," you said, mouth still agape.

"Right." He clearly sounded unconvinced, though he decided not to pursue the matter any further.

You had to admit to yourself, he was rather attractive too. He gave you another look at your continued staring. "What were you even here for anyways?" He slithered closer.

"Just- uh," you stuttered slightly. The tail made him look more dangerous than he most likely was. Or not, he might be just as dangerous as you thought. "I...forgot."

He couldn't stay composed, snickering at you.

"What?" You huffed and stood up, pulling your satchel over your shoulder once more.

"Nothing," he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, face going red. "Get back safely okay?"

You, confused at his little bout of care, nodded. "Okay."

You turned around, though just before you walked off he stopped you. "Oh, and elf."

You turned once more. "Hm?"

"Try to stay aware next time," he opened your palm and placed your dagger in it, another sly smile making its was onto his face.

"We wouldn't want another snake to catch you."

[sanerontheinside]

LET'S DO THIS, so I'm rewatching The Hobbit for reasons (such as the voice of Richard Armitage, GDI RICHARD), and I need someone to write a thing for me. Here, have a sentence and run with it: "An elf just called me /pretty/."

So since tumblr expanded queue from 300 to 1000(?) I went deep into my drafts and scrolled thru a lot to collect as many pretty pictures to queue as possible.

I found… prompts that I started writing, and didn’t finish—because I had no idea where to go next, or whatever. my god,, this is from @maawi1253 ‘s old blog that tumblr ate. I don’t even remember what year this ask was sent 🤦‍♀️

anyway: long-overdue! pls don’t ask me where this was going. I’m amazed, with how my memory is now, that I was ever able to attempt lotr fic

~~~~~~~~~

… this is such a stab in the dark, it’s been at least a decade and I haven’t even seen the Hobbit oh no // oh yes // oh wait I have the book

au where Bilbo also ends up in the cells because someone accidentally hit him over the head. also this is half book canon / half movie canon: in the book, the Company got lost on their way through Greenwood. hungry and with mostly knives for weapons, they came upon the Wood Elves in the midst of their feast, and thought they might approach them and beg for food. they tried to approach three times, and on the third time the Elves were annoyed enough to charm whoever had stepped forward first and take them prisoner. in the book, that unfortunate person was Thorin. this time, Thorin trips over Bilbo. 

“An elf just called me pretty,” Thorin muttered in quiet shock. 

“Well, you are,” someone muttered back from outside his cell in the dark. Master Baggins. It made him jerk in shock and splutter. “Sorry, sorry. Just felt appropriate.” 

He felt a disconcerting mix of irritation and hilarity at that. It was funny, he had to admit, though Master Baggins had clearly spent too long a time with his nephews. How in the world was that an appropriate answer to a King? Not much of a King at the moment, he admitted wryly: exile, wanderer, now locked in one of Thranduil’s cells. 

“Any idea how to get us out of here, Master Burglar?” he asked softly. 

“I can’t very well walk through walls, now, can I?” the Hobbit hissed back, somewhat irritated. “I may have a thick skull and all that, yes, but next time I’ll thank you not to hit me over the head when I’m trying to help!”

Thorin cringed, feeling more than a bit guilty. He had, in their final attempt to approach the elves to beg for food, accidentally misjudged Bilbo’s position in the dark and taken the hobbit with him. “I’m sorry, Master Baggins,” he said quietly. “I’ll endeavour not to trip over you next time.” 

The apology was sincerely meant, though he couldn’t quite help the teasing lilt to his last words. Then he thought better of himself and added, “Please believe me, it was completely unintended.” 

A soft huff was the only answer he got for his efforts. He supposed maybe Bilbo had settled in to sleep after all – not that there was much else for them to do. At least they’d been fed. 

But after a moment, the hobbit stirred again. “You didn’t tell the King where we were going.”

Thorin hummed noncommittally. “I said nothing that was not the truth.”

“But you believe he would try to stop you?” 

Thorin shrugged, then remembered Master Baggins could not see him doing so. “I cannot say. The fewer people know of our quest, the safer we will be.”

“But of course, we’re safe as can be, here in the King’s cells,” Bilbo pointed out. 

Thorin snorted. “Certainly, Master Baggins.”

“And what of the others?” 

Another shrug. “I suppose they’ll end up here, sooner or later.” 

Where else, after all, when they’d been starving and had few weapons among them? Hopefully sooner, as much as he hated the thought: at least in King Thranduil’s cells, they would not starve. What a way to end their quest! 

“Thorin,” Bilbo spoke up again a moment later, an odd edge to his voice that immediately had the King eyeing the wall between them with apprehension. 

“Yes?”

“Have you considered, well, actually telling them why we passed through Greenwood?” The hobbit barreled on, probably hoping to get as much of a justification out as he could before Thorin might cut him off: “It’s just that, well, Greenwood is a neighbouring kingdom, right? And an ally, potentially, to Erebor? I mean wouldn’t it be more pragmatic, you know, to –”

“Master Baggins,” Thorin interrupted him – gently. 

“Hm?”

“Master Baggins, there is a great deal of our people’s history you do not know. There is a longstanding disagreement between the Elves of Greenwood and the Dwarves of Erebor.” 

“Yes, well, how longstanding?”

Thorin stopped short. “I don’t – know. That is a question for Balin, if anyone remembers still.”

“Then why hold on to it?”

Thorin smiled thinly. “Because you can be sure King Thranduil remembers, though I’d rather not ask him. When the dragon came to lay waste to Erebor, you can be sure the elves were not there to help us when we asked.”

“Oh.” 

If he thought that was the end of it, Thorin was sadly mistaken. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

*interestingly, also in book canon, the conflict between Greenwood Elves and Dwarves has absolutely nothing to do with Thorin’s line, either. 

[thatsassyhufflepuff]

Hey! Hope you're doing good. May I request a draco X fem!ravenclaw!reader where Draco asks her to be his girlfriend but she refuses because her parents wouldn't allow her to date anyone. But they sneak around and do it anyway. And when her parents find out, they are furious and start scolding her brutally, but Draco comes in and argues about how it's not that wrong to date anyone. And then he comforts her because she was crying, and it's full of fluff. Oh and no voldy AU please. Thanks💕

The Serpent & The Eagle

A/N: Hello there! Thank you so much for this request; I'm doing just fine, thank you! I hope you like this! <3 I have one more request to write and then I'll open my inbox back up, so stay tuned and have your requests ready! :) Sorry this took me so long, I’ve been working a ton! Once this is up I’ll probably post ch. 31 of Stronger Than Blood (You can start that here!) & write my final request in my inbox after that!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female reader

House: Ravenclaw

Year: 5th

Warnings: angst and lots of fluff! <3

Though she knew Draco mostly had good intentions, Y/N Y/L/N, a Ravenclaw in her 5th year, was a bit nervous when he asked her to meet him at the Astronomy Tower that night.

"Sure," she answered slowly. "But what's the occasion?"

Draco smirked. "Who says there needs to be an occasion? Don't overwork that big brain of yours, Y/N. Just be there."

That was all he said before he winked at her and strode away confidently. Y/N barely refrained from banging her head against the nearest wall. Telling a Ravenclaw not to overwork their brain was like telling the bloody Pope not to be Catholic!

"Stupid, sneaky Slytherin," Y/N mumbled to herself, which earned her a few odd glances from students who passed her in the corridor, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Just what was Draco Malfoy up to?

***

"Ready or not, here I come!" Y/N shouted as she ascended the winding staircase that led to the Astronomy Tower. When she reached the top, Draco was, as usual, smirking at her.

"No need to announce your presence, Y/N. You sounded like a pack of wild Hippogriffs stomping up the stairs."

"I was not stomping!" The Ravenclaw pouted, tossing her Y/H/C hair over her shoulder, raising her chin defiantly.

"Sure you weren't," the blonde drawled with a snicker. "You also weren't muttering something about a sneaky, slimy, irritating git on your way up." He winked. "Surely you weren't speaking of me, though."

Y/N blushed deeply, not bothering to deny it.

"Relax, would you?" he murmured into her ear as he slung an arm around her shoulders, guiding her forward.

"Relax, he says," she grumbled. "You know how much I hate surprises, Draco!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm fairly certain you'll like this one, Y/N."

She arched an eyebrow at that but kept silent as the Slytherin propelled her forward further into the Tower. Y/N let out a little gasp when she saw what was before her.

He'd set up an entire bloody candlelight dinner for them.

"Draco..." Y/N breathed. "When on Earth did you have the time to set this up?"

He smirked. "I bribed the house elves."

"Of course you did." She snorted, smiling her thanks as Draco pulled out her seat for her and pushed it in before taking a seat himself.

The two enjoyed dinner in a comfortable silence. The Ravenclaw could tell Draco was nervous about something, but she knew better than to pressure him. He'd talk eventually. And, of course, she was right.

"Y/N..." His gray eyes danced in the candlelight as he reached across the table, taking her hand between both of his. "You were right."

"I usually am," she said cheekily. "But what about this time?"

Draco was so nervous that he didn't even roll his eyes at her snark. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard, running a thumb across her knuckles tenderly.

"I'm absolutely mad about you, Y/N," he admitted. "I'm sure you can tell. You're bloody brilliant. But I was wondering if...if you'd be my girlfriend?"

Much to Draco's surprise, the Ravenclaw witch's eyes filled with tears.

"I can't," she whispered, pulling her hand away. Draco's eyebrows lowered.

"Why not? Do you..." he gulped. "Do you not feel the same way? I thought--"

"Oh, Draco, no!" she cried, grabbing his hand again to give it a reassuring squeeze. "I feel the exact same way. It's only..." Y/N sighed. "My parents are rather strict, and they've forbidden me to date while I attend Hogwarts. I'm to focus on my studies."

"That's bollocks," Draco scoffed, squeezing her hand back. At her glare, he sighed, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair. "Sorry. But who says they need to find out?"

Y/N frowned. "I don't like lying to them."

"It's not lying." Draco assured her, wiggling his eyebrows. "Besides, your parents aren't here, and summer holiday is months away. We'll be careful." His eyes pleaded with her. "Please, Y/N?"

She scowled at him, her cheeks flushing pink. "Ugh, fine. I can't say no to that face." With an impish grin, Y/N leaned over the table, minding the flame of the candle and kissing Draco softly.

This is absolutely insane. She thought, but soon all she could focus on was the feeling of his lips on hers.

***

In all honesty, Y/N was surprised it took her parents as long as it did to find out about her relationship with Draco. That knowledge didn't stop her heart from sinking as an owl dropped a letter into her lap one morning at breakfast about three months later.

"Who's that from?" A familiar voice asked. Y/N looked up and smiled tightly as her boyfriend plopped into a seat next to her, heedless of the stares he got as a Slytherin sitting down at the Ravenclaw table. By then, most of Hogwarts was used to their relationship, but the stares never quite ceased.

"My parents," She replied with a grimace as she tore open the letter, reading aloud:

Y/N,

We need to have a chat. After you receive this owl, you’re to report to Dumbledore’s office to access his fireplace to Floo home.

“They didn’t even sign their names?” Draco asked, reading over her shoulder. Y/N scowled, tossing aside the piece of parchment.

“They’ve never been the touchy-feely type of parents, Dray.” She said, getting to her feet. Draco placed a hand on her arm.

“You’re going now?”

She nodded. “Best just to get it over with.”

Her boyfriend stood. “I’ll go with you.”

The Ravenclaw knew that there was no talking him out of it, so she nodded but gave him a stern look. “Fine, but stay out of the room. I can handle this.”

***

Y/N wasn’t sure that she could handle this at all, but there was no way she was telling Draco that. His protectiveness would only make things worse.

He squeezed her hand as they emerged into the Y/L/N home sometime later, stepping out of the fireplace. Y/N exhaled with relief when they weren’t greeted by her parents, turning to look up at Draco.

“The library is right next to the drawing room. Please stay there until I come back for you."

The Slytherin responded by leaning down to give her a quick peck on the lips before walking towards the library. Y/N squared her shoulders before making her way into the drawing room where, as expected, her parents were there waiting for her, facing away from her, whispering to each other.

"You wanted to have a chat, so here I am." Y/N said by way of greeting. If she hadn't been so nervous, the way her parents turned around in sync would've made her laugh.

"Y/N." Her mother greeted her with a stiff nod. Her father's gaze swept her features, the disapproval coming off of him in waves.

"Lip gloss?" he snorted.

"Freshly smudged," her mother added, curling her lip. "Y/N, how many times do we have to tell you that-"

"My education comes first, I know," The Ravenclaw sighed. "But Mum, Dad, if you just met him, I think you'd really like him."

Both of her parents scoffed at that. "Y/N," her father pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've always been such a bright girl. Why are you letting the first young wizard to ever give you attention to ruin that?"

"I beg your pardon?" Angry tears stung Y/N's eyes.

"You heard your father!" Her mother cried. "Your first boyfriend and our little girl is completely unrecognizable. The smudged lip gloss, the way your robes are askew. Honestly, Y/N, are you so keen on making our family the laughingstock of the wizarding world?"

Nausea swept through Y/N at what her own mother was implying, that she was some sort of whore with loose morals! A few tears slipped down her cheeks, but before she could bring herself to speak, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Y/N tensed.

"Draco," she hissed, looking up at him. "What did I tell you?"

"All right in here?" He asked instead of answering her, looking first at the Ravenclaw witch then at her parents.

"And who might you be?" her father narrowed his eyes at Draco, taking in the hand the Slytherin had on his daughter's shoulder.

"Draco Malfoy, sir. Y/N's boyfriend." Y/N was frozen in shock as Draco slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side, gently thumbing away her tears. "And you're wrong. Both of you are."

"Excuse me?" Her mother gasped, outraged.

"You heard me," Draco drawled. "Y/N is one of the brightest, sweetest, most hard-working witches I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. You lot should be ashamed of yourselves. She didn't agree to date me at first, do you know why?" He glared at her parents. "Because despite the way you treat her, she didn't want to keep this from you. She knew you'd act like this. But no matter. As her boyfriend, I will in no way allow her to fall behind in her studies. In fact," He squeezed Y/N's shoulders. "We often help each other with our assignments. If you're done insulting my girlfriend, we'll be going now."

"Now see here-" Her father spluttered, but Draco cut him off.

"No, I don't think I will. Let's go, darling."

With that, he steered his shell-shocked girlfriend out of the drawing room and into the library, where she immediately bursted into tears. Draco drew her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her frame and rubbing her back gently.

"You're okay, my love." he whispered into her hair. "I've got you. You're okay."

"Did you hear what my mum said?" Y/N choked out. Draco kissed her temple and nodded.

"It's not true, you know." He held his girlfriend away from him in a loose embrace. "You've got one of the strongest moral compasses of anyone I've ever met, love. Though I have to admit," he gave her a teasing grin, ducking his head to rest his forehead against hers. "Dating a prick like me makes me wonder sometimes."

Y/N choked out a laugh, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Draco cupped her face in his hands, thumbs tracing her tears away. Her eyes fluttered shut as her hands came up to wrap around his wrists, keeping his hands on her face.

"I love you," she said in a wobbly voice, but her smile was radiant, and Draco's heart soared.

"And I you, my brilliant, gorgeous girlfriend." He kissed her nose, then all over her face until she was laughing. "Now let's go home, hmm?"

And so they did. Not only was their home at Hogwarts, their home was in each other. An Eagle and a Serpent who lived in harmony sounded like a myth, but it was their beautiful reality. One they intended to cherish for as long as the fates would allow.

~~~

End notes: I hope this is good, I’m not a Ravenclaw so I hope I got it right! 🙉

taglist: @rosiehufflepuff @riddleswh0r3crux @desiredmalfoy @typewriting101 @is-it-really-a-secret

(If you'd like to be added to my Draco taglist PM me! <3)

[15-dogs]

lovely night |r.b.|

pairing: regulus black x reader

summary: when regulus finds hidden letters from sirius after he’s run away with his girlfriend, you admit to something you never thought you would (hurt/comfort, eventual fluff, forbidden love, no war au)

warnings: blood status stuff, underaged drinking (regulus and reader are 18), idk if this needs to be tagged but reader is a muggle born butler/worker for a pure blood family

guide: (Y/N) = your name, (Y/L/N) = your last name

word count: 2.2K

a/n: askjdhs this is my first regulus fic i hope it’s ok we’ll see we’ll see. also!! yes i did draw inspo from lovely night from la la land so the girlfriend sirius ran away with years back is the reader from planetarium so check that out if you want context to the letters!! feedback is greatly appreciated and i hope you like it!!

***

You only did what you had to to get by. Your muggle parents had thrown you out years ago so you had to find a job to support yourself. In the defense of good character and charity, the Greengrass family took you in as their worker. You stayed with them in the private quarters you shared with the house elves and kept your head down when they threw backhanded insults about your blood status at you. Whatever you could do to get by, you did.

As a reward for being so well-behaved at their home, the family would take you out to private events, fit only for the pureblooded families. Many families would bring their attendants with them, just to prove they were not of ill faith quite yet. You didn’t quite care about those intentions, not when you were too distracted by the glamour of the day.

You did have a very rich fantasy life. As Amalina Greengrass’s seamstress, you got to play with her dresses. And what dresses those were. Long, flowing gowns with pale colors which could make anyone look like royalty.

You used to dream about attending those parties in those dresses, catching the eye of a certain young suitor who was quite skilled at the violin. You imagined walking right past him, like he wouldn’t even recognize you in your fancy clothes, but he would do a double take before running after you, spouting compliments and praise and wondering why in Merlin’s name he hadn’t noticed you that way before.

But Regulus wasn’t like that.

Regulus was your friend, dress or rags. Every party you two were forced to attend, you always ended up sneaking off to chat. Regulus would secure a secluded balcony far off in the mansion from the ballroom while you stole a bottle of firewhiskey from the kitchens. That night was no exception.

Regulus sat on the ground, his legs slotted through the railing and dangling over the garden 30 feet down. He looked so pretty in the moonlight, his sharp features finally softening. It was moments like those you knew Regulus wasn’t as scary as he or his family let on.

Against your instinct to stare in silence, you knocked on the open glass door and pushed past the billowing curtains to reveal yourself. Regulus didn’t turn around. You joined him on the balcony, sliding into the spot next to him as you rested your cheek against the cool metal of the railing.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you teased. Regulus didn’t smile.

Now, with you so close, you could see all the details in his face more clearly. The pain you had mistaken for calm flooded his face and soon washed over you. Your stomach turned with an ache for his wellness.

You knew he wasn’t one to talk about his feelings, not when he was stone cold sober, so you untwisted the cap and sloshed the liquid around before passing it to the boy next to you, deciding he should get the first drink. Regulus winced at how much he slugged back but didn’t falter, continuing to drink until amber liquid spilled down his chin.

“Easy there,” you whispered, cautiously easing the bottle away from his lips. Regulus grunted in discontent before allowing you to pry the bottle away from him, your hands slipping over his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Silence with Regulus wasn’t unusual, but silence when he had something to say was unsettling. He had only completely lost it once, when Sirius moved out and ran off with some girl he met at one of the balls his parents hosted. He did it all with telling his younger brother. And although Regulus spat Sirius’s name with venom he had inherited from his environment, he loved him, and his running away cut so incredibly deep Regulus didn’t know how to control himself.

So really, you could only prepare yourself for the worst.

“It’s a lovely night out,” you began, nudging Regulus with your shoulder. He shrugged. “What a shame it’s just for us.”

Glancing out of the corner of your eye, Regulus frowned. That disquieting look reappeared on his face, although a tad bit more melodramatic than before. Regulus snatched the bottle from you and took a quick swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand with reckless abandon, your nerves thrumming.

Regulus finally— finally— turned to look at you, his cheeks reddened in a healthy flush from the alcohol. His shoulder brushed against yours and you looked up, your face nearly colliding with his. Unconsciously, you sucked in a sharp breath and consequently inhaled the scent of the burning liquid off of Regulus’s breath.

“Do you think I’m a good person?”

“Yes,” you answered with no hesitation. He blinked in shock. “Yes, Reg, I think you’re wonderful.”

He sat in silence, studying your face for a tell while you allowed yourself to get lost in his eyes. The moonlight passed over them, giving the deep chocolate brown a plethora of shades and his long lashes cast a nearly invisible shadow which you wouldn’t dare miss.

After what felt like an eternity, Regulus turned his body to unbutton his vest, promptly pulling out a small stack of letters. He dropped them on your thigh with a look of horror before pulling his gaze away.

Before you could ask what they were, Regulus answered you. “They’re letters from Sirius.”

Your eyes bulged. Raising the letter up to your face, you glanced at the contents before shuffling to the next one. “These are all from when he left. Where did you get these?”

“Mum’s dresser. She asked me to get her perfume and I found them in there, hidden.” 

Regulus made a limp movement to get the letters back, accidentally slapping them down on the floor between you two. He huffed with frustration as he went to gather them, only picking up a few letters at a time. Regulus ran a hand through his perfectly done hair, freeing it from some of the gel which held it in place.

“She ran away with him, you know,” he began. Regulus looked up, scanning your face for something you couldn’t quite describe. It was deep and introspective, like a man looking at his reflection. “They were so in love they ran away together. I wish I was loved like that.”

You weren’t entirely sure what you and Regulus were. Friends, or something more, you hoped. So that’s why you simply said, “You are.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, staring into them for an explanation. He attempted to peel away as he chuckled softly to himself, making you purse your lips in defiance. “No, no,” he started, waving you off, “I mean, I wish I was loved the way Sirius and his girlfriend love each other.”

“You are.”

The silence hung heavy in the night fog. Although you managed to look calm, your heart felt like it could have beat out of your chest. But you knew, somewhere deep in your heart, you didn’t regret your confession for a second. It needed to be said, so it was. And if he didn’t feel the same you wouldn’t have to go on pretending you and Regulus weren’t friends anymore, it would just become normal.

“(Y/L/N)!” a shrill voice shrieked from the horn in the room behind you. “You are required in the parlor!”

You nodded like the caller could see you, gathering yourself and leaving Regulus alone once more. You didn’t dare look back, too fearful he’d see just how vulnerable you were. Yet, the silence wasn’t much better.

***

Typically, you hated checking the portkeys at the end of the night, making sure there were no more left in case a muggle accidentally took one. However, that night you couldn’t have been happier to offer. You needed the fresh air. You needed to be away from that place. You needed to be away from Regulus. So when you descended into the deep blue night, the last thing you wanted to hear was Regulus calling your name from behind you.

“What are you doing?” he called through heavy breaths as he caught up to you.

“Checking portkeys,” you answered curtly. You took a sharp turn down one street, cutting him off and hoping he’d get the message. But of course he didn’t. Regulus continued to follow you, hands clasped behind his back as he watched you intently. “Stop following me.”

“I would if you were going the right way.”

Your steps faltered. Didn’t you go down this street earlier? No, you were definitely in the wrong place. Huffing, you turned around and tried to maneuver around Regulus but he blocked your way.

“What are you doing?” With a cross of your arms, you looked the boy over for the first time in hours.

“Trying to get you to slow down.” Regulus planted his hands firmly on your shoulders and guided you towards a bench beside you, overlooking the skyline of the city. “Look, (Y/N), just look for one second. Look at how lovely this night is.”

It was unfair how beautiful the lighting made him look. You had to catch yourself before you got too caught up in a lost cause so you directed your attention down towards your aching feet, peeling off the cramped shoes you were forced to wear. 

Finally, you decided to look up. Regulus was right: it was a lovely night. But lovely nights were made for loving people, and he had made it clear he wasn’t one of those people. Your mood instantly soured. The more you thought about the situation, the stupider you felt. You were asking Regulus Black, the “Pureblood Prince”, to love you back, a measly muggleborn butler.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t say it back.”

Regulus’s timid voice broke the silence and sent a sharp pain in your chest. You shook your head. “So, what? You thought taking me to look at the city would soften to blow?”

He perked up at that. “What?”

You scoffed, standing up, shoes in hand and venom in your veins. “I shouldn’t have expected you to say it back. I misread this, and I’ll take the blame for that to spare you. So can we please just drop it?”

Before he could even process what you had said, you were already walking away from him. Regulus scrambled to your side with a flurry of rushed pleas to make you sit and listen to him for just one second.

“You know what’s funny?” you started, a chuckle toying at your lips. Behind you, Regulus had silenced himself. “That I thought this would work out. I mean, come on, we have to take a look at ourselves for a second, Reg. We know who we are. We know our places. And my place is not with you.”

“Merlin, why not?!” Regulus shouted. Anger reverberated through the hollow street and you were near positive you could almost feel it. The corners of his eyes pricked with tears from frustration. You weren’t over him, you knew that, it was too soon, and seeing him in such a distraught state made you sick.

“What?”

Regulus ran his hands over his face with a shaky sigh. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to shout, and especially not at you. You don’t deserve to be shouted at. I just can’t hear about ‘our places’ again.”

Taking cautious steps towards him, you asked, “Again?”

Regulus sunk into a squat and rested against the pavement, evoking a quiet gasp at the cleaning his elves would have to do to his dress pants. “Amalina thought you might fancy me and told my mother. For two bloody weeks she gave me lecture after lecture about how it would be sickening if I even thought about being with someone of your…”

“Oh.” You sunk to his level, relaxing against the emptied street next to him.

“But I realized how much what she says doesn’t matter.”

Your eyes flickered up to his, wide and full of hope. “Reg, do you know what you’re saying?”

Regulus laid on his back, you following suit, staring up at the night sky. He subconsciously took your hand in his and began to trace the constellations against you with his thumb, sending sparks flying through you. 

“I do, I promise, I do. When I found those letters from Sirius, everything felt very...obvious to me. I think I might love you.”

Much to your dismay, you inched your hand out of his as you sat up, causing him to turn his head to look in your eyes. “Please don’t say that. I know you miss your brother but pretending you’re him isn’t the way to get him back.”

“I’ll admit, I thought I was doing that, too. Our love is different than theirs— it’s been there all along. And I quite like our love.”

You waited for him to look up at you, searching for the sincerity in his eyes. Regulus smiled sweetly at you, making your stomach flutter and nerves thrum. Laying back down next to him, you once again took his hand.

“What’re we going to do?”

“I don’t know.” The raven haired boy frowned. “But I think I’m prepared for it.”

As you leaned your head on his shoulder you realized lovely nights were made for loving people, and perhaps you were one of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

if you’re crossed out i couldn’t tag you!!

tags: @aspiringsloth02 @dreamy-clousds @nuttytani-reblogs @anyqueen008 @lunalovecroft @pandaxnienke @for-bebbanburg

[autumnalfallingleaves]

Yoooo I absolutely adore your AU's for Hilda and the pictures you've posted. I really wanna hear all about them they all look so interesting! Especially Young and Brave AU and Aunt Marjorie AU. Could you do little tidbits about all of em? Just like a general idea? I do have a specific question for Aunt Marjorie AU, does Past Hilda ever find out about Future Hilda's Changeling status?

Thank you so much!! I love making AUs, and I'm glad people are liking them!! To answer your question, yes, she does! The two are accidentally caught in a landslide, and, in order to save them both, Older Hilda has to Change and grab Younger Hilda so they can get out safely.

And I'll put them under a cut 'cause they got pretty long, but here's a synopsis I typed up a few days ago of all the AUs I drew:

After the Before AU: my angstiest Hilda AU; in which 25-yo Hilda runs away from her entire family for 12 years after accidentally hurting Frida and can’t forgive herself for it, with only Twig coming along and maintaining contact with Baba, who has grown up in that time. This also incorporates Frankie, my Frilda kid, as Hilda and Frida were (magically) trying for a kid but didn’t know if they’d succeeded. Then Frida gets hurt, Hilda runs off and bounces around for a bit before returning to Trolberg and becoming a lighthouse keeper a ways away from the city proper to avoid anyone she knew before. Johanna still lives in the flat with Alfur and Tontu, but Frida moved out to the Wilderness when she found out she was expecting so as to not have her and Hilda’s kid burdened by her memories of Trolberg (haven’t decided if David comes with to support her). They move back when Frankie is 11, and shenanigans eventually happen to reunite Hilda and Frida, who are still witch and Familiar, though Hilda was able to get a Troll artifact to suppress that magical bond for the years she tried to run away. It’s very emotional and angsty.

A House by the Ocean AU: basically sprung from a thought of “What if Hilda was adopted?” and “What if she lived in an old lighthouse by the ocean instead of an inner-city flat?” and “What if the events of the series took place in New England instead of wherever Trolberg is located?" (Can you tell I really like lighthouses?) Really just an exploration of how Hilda’s dynamic with her family and environment would be changed if she was adopted and the location was slightly different.

Young and Brave AU: what if the less-dangerous events of the series happened about six years before canon? Like, right after Hilda found Twig in canon. This includes: meeting the elves, moving to Trolberg, and a bunch of stuff that happens during that period of time. Just an excuse, really, to have baby Hilda being wicked cute and earnest. Also Frida and David are the same age as Hilda, so it’s three tiny kids running around and causing chaos. And Kaisa is a bit younger- around high school age so she has a part-time job at the library- and has strong Big Sister Energy.

Set in Stone AU/(and hold it down) ‘verse: the AU I've fleshed out the most, and I currently have three fics up on AO3 set in it, with i will take it all in one breath (and hold it down) being the first of the series and my most popular fic to date. Basically, "what if Hilda retained the ability to turn into a Troll?"

Always Been Near AU (or Daughter of the Bells AU. I haven't decided): I know it’s incredibly unpopular, but since I just really like exploring possible dynamics between characters, what if the Bellkeeper was Hilda’s bio dad and she instead lived with him? (And no bad parents in this house. He loves his daughter to bits and does right by her all the time.) The events of the series proper happen pretty similarly, but, instead of living in the Wilderness, they lived in that one town a bit outside of Trolberg- Toføten- for a number of years (with the Bellkeeper working as both a mechanic and the town’s bellkeeper to support them) before getting a job as a bellkeeper in Trolberg and moving there. Hilda still meets the elves before moving, and meets all the same people in the city, though she’s a lot more mechanically-minded because of her father (though still retaining her artistic interest). I know people don’t want the Bellkeeper to be her dad, but I just think it would be really interesting to explore what Hilda would be like if she was raised by her (potential) dad instead of her mom.

A Patchwork World AU: following on the heels of the fact that I like to explore potential dynamics, this one is just me throwing all my favorite characters from different media together to see how they interact with each other lmao.

Aunt Marjorie AU: an offshoot of my (and hold it down) ‘verse, I just wanted to play into my love of the “time travel being used to interact with either one’s younger self or characters in the past” trope by using an older (and hold it down) Hilda to interact with her younger, haven’t-yet-moved-to-Trolberg self and seeing how that works out. I’ve got a vague idea for an overarching plot, and the name comes from these two dingleberries having to come up with a name for older Hilda on the fly that doesn’t cause suspicion. It goes a bit like “I’m her aunt uhhhhhh-“ “Marjorie! My Aunt Marjorie!” older Hilda is slightly offended

Older Hilda eventually gets back to her period of time, but shenanigans absolutely happen in the meantime.

[themurphyzone]

PatB AU: Pinky the Snowmouse

This is just one of those late night ideas that I wanted to post. It’s somewhat based off that Frosty the Snowman special from the 60s with a dash of Pinocchio. 

I haven’t actually watched either of these recently. My subconscious is just weird. 

1. After his fallout with Snowball, Brain continues to aspire for world domination, but finds that he’s hit a block when it comes to plans. He doesn’t have inspiration nor anyone to bounce ideas off with, but he tries to push past it and just continue creating. There’s bound to be a gem or two amidst all the duds, he tells himself. And he doesn’t need anyone else, he can rule the world on his own.

2. ACME Labs hosts a Christmas party, and they invite a magician for entertainment. Brain is in his cage, brainstorming ideas for world domination while the scientists gather around for the magician’s performance. Brain knows magic is all just sleight of hand and optical illusions, and rolls his eyes at the magician failing to even manage that. The scientists all mock the magician, and their laughter grows more when the magician fails to pull a rabbit out of his hat. 

3. The magician is laughed out of ACME Labs, and he swears revenge against all the scientists who work there. But he left his top hat on a table by Brain’s cage, and he doesn’t notice until later that night. ACME Labs closes, and Brain escapes his cage, glad that the party is finally over so he can get back to planning properly. 

4. But loneliness creeps up on Brain again, and he tries to dismiss it as the reason he can’t concentrate. So he goes outside, where a thick layer of snow has covered the ground. He starts kicking around snow and eventually builds a snowmouse, wondering if he’s gone mad since he’s partaking in an activity that’s usually reserved for children and not future emperors. 

5. He builds the snowmouse’s body first, using a stick for a tail and fashioning the head. Then he decides it’s missing some prerequisites to be a proper snowman, so he goes inside and gathers a bunch of buttons, a pink scarf, and lastly, the magician’s hat. He goes back to the snowmouse and dresses him up, then tosses on the hat as a finisher. 

6.  And boy, if Brain felt ridiculous before then now it was tripled since he decided to dress up the snowmouse like it was a real entity. He angrily starts berating himself for being distracted and that he needs to focus, because he can’t be like all those other scientists. 

He declares that their collective minds are nothing compared to the intelligence in his pinky, and a voice answers ‘yes?’ 

7. Brain thinks he’s just hearing things, then the voice goes ‘oh, i thought you called my name. Narf!’ 

Then Brain turns around and freaks out, because holy crap the snowmouse he built was alive and talking. Brain dismisses it as a figment of his imagination at first, but as the newly christened Pinky the snowmouse displays a rather glaring lack of intelligence, he can’t help but be curious about how snow can come to life. He circles Pinky and tries to figure it out, taking off the magic hat, and Pinky goes still and silent. Brain quickly puts the hat on Pinky again, and soon the snowmouse is dancing around once more. 

8.  Unbeknownst to either of them, the magician saw the hat bring Pinky to life and decides he can profit off the hat, then follows the two mice. 

9. Pinky gets distracted and wanders into town with Brain trailing after him and making sure Pinky’s stupidity and lack of awareness about the world doesn’t kill them both. To Brain’s dismay, he finds that Pinky takes in pop culture much faster than he does at science. It’s pretty ironic that Pinky already knows who Mariah Carrey is despite being alive for less than an hour, but he believes snowflakes are manufactured in an eco-friendly factory in the clouds. 

10. Pinky sees a pair of lovers hugging, then tries to do the same with Brain. Unfortunately, all this does is make Brain shiver with cold, and Pinky feels bad for hurting him like that. Brain shouts at him for hugging, but when Pinky apologizes, Brain realizes it was just an accident and tells him not to do it again. 

11. Pinky notices that images of Santa are plastered all over the place since it’s the holiday season, and wishes he could meet the big guy. This leads into inspiration for Brain to create his own line of toys and plant them in the elf factory for mass production and distribution. Brain praises Pinky for the inspiration. 

12. Brain creates the Noodle Noggin plans and together the mice stow away in a plane bound for the North Pole. However, it’s necessary for Pinky to stay in cold temperatures, so they have to remain in the cargo hold and away from the heated cockpit. Brain is freezing despite being dressed for cold weather, and Pinky feels bad for not being able to keep him warm. Pinky says he wishes he could be a real mouse like Brain, so that he can be his friend forever. 

Brain thinks the headaches Pinky gave him were pretty real, but the companionship and kindness were real too. He keeps quiet about this, unsure of what to say. 

13. The magician has also stowed away on the plane. 

14. The plane lands at the North Pole, and the mice head to the elf factory. They discover Pinky can’t enter the elf factory since it’s heated, so Brain goes in alone to slip the Noodle Noggin plans in with the other blueprints, while Pinky wanders off and explores the North Pole settlement. 

15. Before Brain can successfully slip the blueprints in, the magician ambushes and successfully captures him, and the Noodle Noggin plans are torn beyond saving in the struggle. Angered at the loss of his plans, Brain demands the magician explain himself. The magician declares he gets a two for one profit, with a talking mouse and a magic hat, then realizes the snowmouse is missing and demands to know where he is. 

16. Without the hat, Pinky can’t stay alive. Brain refuses to reveal Pinky’s location for any reason, and the magician tries to force it out of him. Brain is stubborn though and refuses to speak. 

17. Pinky finishes wandering around the village and goes back to check on Brain, thinking he’s taking an awfully long time in the elf factory. He peeks in through a window, discovering that a man is hurting a very distressed Brain, who’s still resisting. 

18. Pinky shouts for Brain, and gets the magician’s attention. Brain yells at him for drawing attention to himself, ordering him to run. But Pinky won’t do it, because Brain is in trouble and needs help. 

19. The magician demands Pinky give up the magic hat. But Pinky will only give up the hat if he releases Brain. The magician agrees, but Brain knows full well that the magician is far too greedy and will go back on his word, and Pinky is giving up the hat and his life for a promise that won’t be kept. 

20. With Brain in hand, the magician walks over to a fireplace and tells Pinky to come inside. The fireplace is bright and warm, and Brain orders Pinky to just leave, because the heat will kill him if he doesn’t. Pinky starts to melt as he comes closer, telling Brain it’s okay, he’s happy they’re friends, even if their time together was brief. 

21. When Pinky is in front of the fireplace, the magician snatches the hat off his head, and renders Pinky lifeless. Reveling in victory, the magician releases Brain who hugs and begs Pinky to wake up and stop being stupid, just wake up and say narf, Pinky. Except Pinky can’t see or hear anymore, and is nothing more than cold, melting water with a few accessories. Brain is left crying and pleading for Pinky to come back, clutching a wet scarf in his hands. The magician mocks Brain for believing that a pile of snow had thoughts and feelings. 

22. But the magician’s joy is cut short at Santa Claus’s sudden appearance. Angry that someone could take such mirth in murdering an innocent creature and cause so much grief in his best friend, Santa orders his elves to tie up the magician and take him away. The elves obey, and the magician is reduced to a pathetic mess. 

23. Brain barely notices the commotion. Santa decides to grant Brain one Christmas wish, just to give him a little comfort. And Brain ponders, knowing that he journeyed all this way for world domination, and while he can easily cut a lot of hassle by using his wish to make himself ruler of the world...he remembers Pinky’s sacrifice.

Pinky’s compassion. Pinky’s kindness. How Pinky provided the inspiration he needed. 

Brain admits to Santa that even if Pinky was made of snow, he still had the warmest heart he’d ever known. 

24. Brain asks if it’s possible for Pinky to be revived with a body to reflect his warm heart. 

25. Santa grants the wish. The puddle that used to be Pinky reshapes and forms into a living, breathing mouse with the softest, warmest fur imaginable. Pinky marvels at his new body and the mice have their first proper hug. Brain is overjoyed at Pinky being alive again, and Pinky is happy to be a real mouse at last. 

26. Santa lets the mice ride home in his sleigh (Pinky falls in love with Donner on the way home and Brain learns what jealousy is for the first time and hopes to god they don’t get invited to any Donner parties). Meanwhile all the elves are sobbing with their hot cocoa, marshmallows, and candy canes while watching all the drama unfold on their security feed because this is the best Christmas drama they’ve seen in years. 

[pixxiesdust]

Favored by Fate • Dabi

Summary • Your boss has a business meeting at the annual fall festival, and you’re lucky that he’s given you the night off to explore on your own. Running into a masked stranger was not part of your plans for the evening, but it turns out the two of you share a common goal, and you can work together to reach it. Maybe fate is on your side.

Pairing • Dragon!Dabi (Todoroki Touya) x Water Sprite!Reader

Word Count • 8.7k

Tags and Warnings • Suggestive situations and dialogue, modern fantasy au, talk about murder, kissing, swearing, Dabi is Todoroki Touya, Todoroki Enji is not a good person in this fic.

Note • This is my part of the Attack on Academia’s Fall Festival collab! I had a lot of fun writing this, especially during sprints with wonderful friends haha. If you like this fic, please consider checking out the other Fall Festival fics written by members of AoA! If you’d like to join our server, feel free to join through the invite link on this post. New members are always welcome! Finally, I’d like to thank the wonderful @wakaoujisenhime and @prismaroyal​ for betaing this fic for me!

–

This annual fall festival is the largest one on the continent, so it’s no wonder that thousands of creatures congregate under the light of the full moon to celebrate the peak of the fall season.

High elves peruse the high-end stalls with ridiculously priced wares that suit their more expensive tastes. They try out weapons embedded with precious stones, made of the strongest metal alloys. Some buy the purest potion ingredients, sliding gold coins over the stall counter to the merchants, or swiping black credit cards across card readers.

A coven of witches stop by a candy stall on your right, pulling out their phones to record as the merchant—a fire wielder whose hands are glowing with red—drizzles melted caramel in elaborate swirls onto wooden skewers. As soon as the caramel leaves the metal bowl he cups his heated hands around, it starts to harden, turning from a light yellow to a darkened gold. The witches buy out the caramel swirl lollipops and continue on as they lick and crunch on the candy.

Elemental sprites try their hand at the game booths. Even though large signs are tacked to the booths that say “No Magic Allowed” in big, bold letters, you see an air sprite change the course of a ball as his friend throws it, so the ball hits the target. Then a crystal lights up red, and the centaur that runs the booth crosses his arms over his broad chest, large hooves stamping into the dirt. The air sprite sighs and lifts his palms up, before walking away and disappearing into the crowd.

The corners of your lips twitch, but you hold back the smile. You don’t want your boss to think that he’s the subject of your amusement—not when he’s Lord Todoroki Enji, the most powerful fire dragon in centuries, and you’re just you, a water sprite.

One fiery breath from him, and most water sprites will evaporate on the spot.

But you’re not like most water sprites.

“The stones,” Enji says, voice a demanding rumble. He towers over you. His human form towers over everyone, even the centaur by the game booths, and you have to crane your neck to look past the flaming red mask on his face to catch sight of his piercing blue eyes.

“Yes, sir.” You nod and open up the flask of water by your hip. With a wave of your hand, three glittering red stones are pushed to the surface of the water. You close your hand around them, a tingle running through you at the magical energy contained in these rubies.

Enji holds out a small pouch made of velvety black cloth, his large hands making the pouch seem even smaller. You drop the stones into the pouch, and he lights a flame on the tip of his finger and runs it across the wax on the inside of the opening. The wax melts, the flame dissipates, and he presses the opening of the pouch closed for the wax to harden on its own.

The pouch disappears, hidden somewhere on his red and black armor-clad body. He, like you and all the other creatures attending the festival, are dressed in the traditional attire of their own species.

“I have business to attend to. Do whatever you want, and meet me back at the entrance when the sun rises. But keep an ear open.”

He doesn’t have to finish his statement. You know he wants you to pay attention to any rumors, any unrest—anything that could disrupt his position of power.

So you nod again. “Understood, sir. I hope the deal will be made.”

The flames that burn at the edges of his mask flare, the only visible sign of his temper. “No need to hope. It will be made.”

As Enji strides away, the throng of people parting around him, a sympathetic expression slides onto your face. “Poor Yagi Toshinori,” you murmur into the air. “It’s not going to be pleasant for him when Enji is walking into this deal with some type of grudge.”

But you shrug and close the flask of water and let it hang from the belt around your waist. “At least I get the night off from being Enji’s assistant.” These types of days—or nights—are few and far between.

With the pleasant thought of getting to enjoy the festival all on your own, you smile to yourself and start walking, slipping into the crowd, your water sprite clothing a speck of bright blue among the rainbow of colors of the fall festival.

–

Your first stop is to one of the rows of food stalls. The air is filled with distinct scents; some sweet, others savory, but all make your mouth water and your stomach grumble.

You decide on something savory, first, so it’ll take the edge off your hunger so you can explore the rest of the festival. A stall that sells steamed buns catches your eye—and the scent that wafts from it entices your stomach. The two dwarves that run the stall are sisters, from the look of it, both with round cheeks and full lips, each wearing masks with vines embroidered on them. They bicker quietly among themselves until they see you approach.

“Here for the best meat buns in the festival?” asks the one on the right, dressed in soft browns.

“Or are you here for the best vegetable buns in the festival?” This comes from the one on the left, her traditional clothes in earthy greens. She shoots her sister a glare while waiting for your answer.

You look from one to the other, then purse your lips as you look at the wooden baskets that contain the steamed buns. It smells heavenly, and the buns aren’t too large, so you say, “I’ll have one of each, please. Who wouldn’t say no to trying the best meat and vegetable buns in the whole festival?”

That makes them smile, each pleased. As the sister in brown takes one of each bun out from the woven baskets, the other takes the two coins you hand her.

“Good choice, cunning fox,” the dwarf in green says.

You blink at her once, twice, until realization dawns. She means your mask. Although the designs are blue painted on white ceramic to match your traditional water sprite clothing, the opening for your eyes are distinctly fox-shaped, slanted and sharply cut at the corners. There are ears at the top of the mask, and a little snout over your nose, leaving your mouth uncovered.

“Ah,” you say lamely. Then add, “How am I able to choose when all of it smells so delectable?”

The dwarf grins, and her sister hands you your order wrapped with thin, brown paper. The heat from the buns sink into your hands immediately. It’s chilly out, and even though your traditional clothes are rather warm, your fingers still are cold.

“Thank you.” You dip your head to them before turning your back on the stall.

As you merge back into the crowd, the sisters wave at you and shout in unison, “Thank you for your patronage!”

–

The buns are long gone, devoured quickly as you wandered the food stalls. After getting a couple of other small snacks to eat, you leave this part of the festivals behind to explore the rest. Right now, you’re in a stall owned by a minotaur. One of your hands is wrapped around a cone of pixie sugar, a dessert made of thousands of spun sugar threads, wrapped like a fluffy cloud around a paper cone.

The other? It’s wrapped around the handle of a simple, streamlined dagger.

You stretch your arm out in a slow, smooth movement, testing the weight and feel of the blade. The minotaur, who is a blacksmith and made the dagger himself, watches on. A smirk graces his lips at the unexpected skill and familiarity you display.

“You like it?” he asks, his voice a deep rumble.

You nod. “The craftsmanship is wonderful; it’s very easy to handle. Sharp, too.”

“Can’t call it a dagger if it isn’t sharp.”

“How fire resistant, or, uh, heat resistant is it?”

This question makes the minotaur raise an eyebrow, but he answers it anyway. “Very. Fire sprites won’t be able to melt it with their flames. Even more powerful creatures can’t do it. The designs in the handles are runes, and they’ll keep the blade clean, sharp, and strong.”

“I see,” you say, pleased with his response.

“You plan on buying it?”

“Yes, but not right now. Will you hold on to it so I can purchase it later tonight?”

The minotaur eyes you for a moment, probably wondering if you’d stick to your word and return to buy the weapon. Then he nods, and you seem to pass his inspection. “Very well. I will keep this off the table so you can return to buy it.”

You smile at him in thanks and set the dagger back down on the table. “I’ll be back later, then.”

He waves a hand as he picks up the dagger, but you don’t see it as you’re already gone, pushing past the curtains that drape across the entrance to the stall.

The curtains fall behind you, and you step into the crowd, immediately slamming into a warm, hard body that makes you stumble back and trip over your own feet. Your arms flail out, trying to cushion your fall, but a hand reaches out to your own–

–and misses, closing around the cone of pixie sugar.

The sugar is crushed by the hand, compacted into nearly nothing. A tearing sound fills the air as the paper cone rips before your eyes, and you keep falling.

You hit the ground, hard. Your elbows smack against the packed dirt, pain shooting up to your shoulders, followed by numb tingling. At least your head didn’t make contact with the ground. Otherwise, you’ll probably spend the rest of the festival with a pulsing bump on the back of your head, and your hair would be coated with dust.

A groan escapes your lips as you sit up to shake out your arms. It doesn’t feel pleasant to have hit the nerves.

“Damn,” a rough, masculine voice says from above. “Took quite a hard spill there. Not as quick on your feet as an actual fox, huh?”

“Shut up,” you snap. “No one asked you. What the hell were you doing there, anyway?” You don’t look up, focusing on brushing the dirt off your blue sleeves.

There’s a hint of amusement in the voice as it responds. “I was walking, just like everyone else. You were the one who ran into me. I even tried to help you.”

“Yeah, and you missed, crushing my cone of pixie sugar instead!”

“I tried to help, and got thanked with a hand sticky because of sugar. Who’s worse off out of the two of us? Clearly, it’s me.”

Your mouth opens and shuts until your mind formulates the words you need to retort with. Pushing yourself to your feet indignantly, you brush off your pants too. “Clearly it’s you?” you mock, trying to imitate the way he delivered the sentence. “Listen here, you–”

You finally look at whoever you had the misfortune of running in to, and your mind stops working as you take him in.

His clothes are cut in the same way as traditional elemental sprite clothing is normally made, but the colors—black cloth that gives off a dark blue sheen under the light of hundreds of lanterns, and accented with bits of cyan—doesn’t match any of the four elements that normal sprites wear. They hang off his frame in such a way that his vest-like shirt shows off quite a bit of chest and arms. You notice scarred patches of skin, and staples that seem to hold the scars onto unblemished skin, but your eyes are more drawn to the dips and curves of his muscles.

You swallow, feeling a little warm despite the autumn chill.

Then your eyes move up his body until you see his dragon mask, and your breath catches in your throat.

His eyes.

They’re a beautiful, piercing blue, carrying the heat of the hottest flames as he stares at you. A shiver runs down your spine. Why do they somehow seem familiar? If you met someone like him before, you’d most certainly remember him, especially with the way he carries himself and the way his voice sounds when he speaks. He’s not one who can easily be forgotten.

“Listen here, what?” he asks, a smirk curling at his lips when your eyes flicker away, realizing that you’ve been caught staring. “C’mon, foxes aren’t known to be shy. What were you gonna say, doll?”

You have no response to give, so you just pout, drawing his attention to your lips—the only feature of your face that isn’t hidden by your fox mask. “Goodbye,” you say shortly. Then you cross your arms over your chest and turn your back to him, striding away to merge into the flow of the crowd.

Dabi stares after you for a moment, snickering. His eyes widen the slightest bit at the realization that you, a snarky, cross, quick-witted, pretty water sprite amuse him.

There are few things that amuse Dabi in life. If you’re one of them, he’s not letting you go that easily. So he hurries after you, quickly spotting you by the bright blue of your clothes. He has a mission tonight, a reason for being at the festival, but a bit of a detour won’t hurt.

He can always leave once you stop interesting him.

–

You thought walking away would be the end of that conversation, but a figure dressed in black falls in step beside you. You stop short, ignoring the grumbles of creatures that are disgruntled from your abrupt change in motion.

“What do you want?” you ask him.

Blue eyes gleam as he stretches out his right hand.

You look at it, then at him. “Congratulations, you have a hand. So?”

“A dirty hand,” he says, drawing out the words. “A dirty, sticky hand, thanks to your cone of sugar.”

“Ah yes, the pixie sugar that you destroyed!”

“Only to save you, doll.”

“To try and save me,” you correct. “What do you want me to do about it, hm?” You cross your arms over your chest and stand straight, staring him in the eyes. You seem to be doing that a lot around him, but something about his eyes just seems familiar–

“Clean it. What else? You’re a water sprite, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and you most definitely are not an elemental sprite.” You ignore the way his shoulders stiffen the slightest bit before he forces them to relax. “If I clean your hand, will you leave me alone so I can explore the festival?”

He only hums in response, but you open up your flask of water anyway. Even though he didn’t actually prevent you from hitting the ground, he at least tried, and it wouldn’t hurt to get the sugar off him.

You move your hand in an upward motion along the side of the flask, and water leaves the opening and gathers in a sphere in midair. Grabbing his dirty hand, you maneuver the water so it envelops the length of his hand, from the tips of his fingers to the base of his palm. He’s very warm, you notice absently. But you focus on swirling the water around his skin, picking up crystals of sugar until his hand is clean.

When that’s done, you withdraw the water, not leaving a single droplet behind. With another flick of your wrist, the water shoots through the air to an empty patch of dirt and sinks into the ground.

Dabi looks at his hand, swiveling his wrist. You must possess incredible skill to keep the water together, swirl it around him, and not leave any of it behind. His lips twitch. You only seem to get more and more interesting.

“Goodbye, then,” you say, and turn your back to him like you did the last time.

But as you take a step forward, his figure enters your peripheral vision. Another step, then two, three, and he’s still there.

You try to pretend that he doesn’t exist and look around at the stalls to see if there’s one you want to stop at, but his presence is impossible to ignore. Not when his body gives off a heat that you can feel through your clothes, not when his clothes are all black except for the cyan accents that only heighten the glow of his eyes.

Stopping at a stall that displays hundreds of beautifully packaged candies and small treats, you pick up a small, tin box of sweets that interest you. Pretending to look at the packaging, your eyes flicker to the side to catch him blatantly observing you with some sort of fascination.

“Okay,” you say, putting the tin back. “What do you want from me now? I thought you promised to leave me alone after I cleaned your hand.”

Dabi smirks at you and shakes his head. “I made no such promise. You really should pay more attention, little fox.”

You scowl at the nickname but focus on the more important topic. “You literally hummed when I asked if you’d be gone when I cleaned you up.”

“A hum, yes, but who said it was one of agreement?” He pauses, before adding, “It was one of contemplation—and then I decided to turn your offer down.”

You glare at him. With nothing more to say, you turn your back and leave again. This time, you don’t see him in your field of view.

Forcing a smile to your face, you look intently at the nearby stalls.

Somehow, it feels colder.

–

Dabi watches you go, noting the direction that you head in. He turns back around to the stall and picks up the tin of sweets you had looked at. He eyes the brightly colored label on the tin, then digs into a pocket to fish out a few coins. Sliding them across the counter to the witch that runs the stall, he steps back into the flow of people with the candy tin in his hand.

His long strides makes him easily catch up to you, staying back a bit to watch you look at a couple of stalls. When you pick one to stop at—a stall that sells spelled items, he notes—Dabi steps up and leans his weight against the counter, appearing in your field of view once again.

The figure dressed in blacks comes out of nowhere, but you’re not startled. Your eyes slide across to him, and you scoff to hide the flicker of happiness at the sight of him. “Miss me so soon?”

He snickers. “I should be the one to ask you that, doll. Hope being away from me didn’t hurt too much. I got held up by something I needed to get.” Without a warning, he tosses something at you.

You move quickly, hands flying up to your face, and you clap your palms together around the object. Glaring at him, you lower your hands, before focusing your attention on the metal tin in your palms. The label is bright and eye-catching, and you can’t stop your lips from curving up when you realize that it’s the tin of candies you were looking at before.

“See?” he says, pleased. “I’m not all bad.”

“No, you’re not,” you say softly. You look up at him, and the smile on your face combined with the softness of your eyes is nearly too much for Dabi to take.

You turn away from the stall and take a few steps forward. Then you look over your shoulder, at the not-an-elemental-sprite that leans against the stall. “Well?” you ask. “You coming or not?”

Dabi huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly. You still somehow managed to surprise him. He pushes off the stall, tucking his hands into his pockets as he falls in step besides you. “Why the invite? Thought you were sick of me.”

You don’t answer his question, asking your own instead. “Why do you keep sticking around? Got nothing better to do?”

“I do have some business to do here,” he says, “but you interest me, little fox.” He reaches a hand toward you to flick at the ceramic fox ears of your mask. “And these days, very few things interest me.”

You don’t know how to respond, but finally settle with an awkward, “I see.”

The two of you walk on in silence for a bit, until he breaks it. “Are you gonna tell me why I get to accompany you? I would’ve thought that you’d walk away and never look back.”

“I just wouldn’t mind the company. It’s my first time being able to actually enjoy the fall festival. Usually my boss has a business meeting that I have to attend, but his meeting is actually at the festival this year. So I get to explore the festival, but it’s nice to do it with someone else too.” You pause, lips curling into a sly smile that tells Dabi you’re about to poke fun at him. “Even if it’s with a stranger who is dressed in elemental sprite clothing yet isn’t an elemental sprite at all.”

“Damn, you caught me,” he says, delivering the words in a flat drawl that makes you snicker. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“I don’t know, scream? Run away in terror?”

He leans in toward you, lips by your ear. “Let me tell you a secret, doll. I don’t scream.” His breaths brush over your skin, making a shiver run up your spine. “But you certainly could.”

Your body suddenly feels a bit too warm, and you quickly turn to look at Dabi, putting his lips very close to your own face. “In your dreams,” you shoot back. You’re surprised that your voice comes out so steadily, when in reality, your skin buzzes and your stomach flips.

“Maybe,” he says, and straightens so there’s a bit of distance between the two of you once more. He moves on to a different topic. “What kind of a boss makes you work on the night of the fall festival? Who the hell has meetings at the fall festival?”

You snort. “Todoroki Enji, that’s who.”

If Dabi were anyone else, he might have flinched or his steps might have faltered. But he continues walking in time with you, and his voice is absent of the hate that runs through his veins when he asks, “You work for Endeavor?”

“Unfortunately.” Your voice is dry, and there’s no sign of affection for your boss.

Dabi feels a little relieved. Yet again, you’ve said something that surprises him, making his interest in you even stronger. “From all the things I know about the fucker, I’m not surprised you’re not the biggest fan of him. Why the hell do you work for him then?”

Your response is quick, even as your mind races and as pieces fall into place. “Money. He’s a dragon, so he’s had centuries to gather wealth. He pays well.”

Dabi definitely understands that. But that can’t be all. Not when it comes to you. “And?”

You look at him and hold his gaze, taking in his blue eyes as another piece falls into place. You sigh. “And there’s also a... personal reason.”

“Hm,” is all he says in response.

The conversation moves on to a different topic as you walk around this section of the festival, taking a closer look at stalls that catch your attention. You stop at a food stall and buy Dabi a skewer of juicy, fragrant grilled meat, glazed with a sweet and spicy sauce.

“For the candy tin,” you say, as you hold the skewer out to him.

His warm fingers brush against yours as he accepts it, letting out a “Not bad,” after he takes a bite.

You buy a little container of mochi for yourself to eat. Each one is made of sticky rice paste that envelopes various sweet fillings; red bean, strawberry, black sesame, and so on, the flavors a surprise until you bite through the flour-dusted outside.

Dabi finishes off his skewer of grilled meat and swipes a mochi from your container. He ignores your protest at his theft, and your following whine at the flour that falls off the mochi and dusts your sleeve. A snicker leaves him as he eats the mochi in two bites.

You look at him, glaring, and he pointedly keeps eye contact with you as he licks off the flour that dusts his lips. You quickly look away, and Dabi can’t help but feel a little pleased at the way your eyes had followed his tongue.

He pushes the feeling down, though. There’s now something that he wants from you, and he needs to get it from you.

No matter what.

–

Having finished your snacks, you lead the way to a trash bin at the edge of the festival. It’s a little dark, as the festival lanterns don’t stretch all the way out here, and the bin is nearly in the forest—nearby trees stretching up toward the moon.

Your mochi container clatters against the other pieces of trash in the bin as it hits the bottom. Dabi tosses his skewer in after.

You turn to look at him, tilting your head. He’s been a bit quiet over the past few minutes, not as much of a reaction to your teasing. There’s tension in the air that doesn’t sit quite right with you, but you keep your voice light as you push on. “Where shall we go next?”

Dabi’s arms hang loosely by his sides. He feels a finger twitch.

“Sorry, doll,” he starts off, voice equally light as yours. You think he’s going to say something along the lines of him not having a preference as to where you should go, but his next words come out dark, harsh, and angry. “You aren’t going to go anywhere. Tell me where the fuck Endeavor is.”

“W- wait, wha–”

His hands reach for you, clasping tightly around your wrists. They’re hot, but not painful, as he shoves you backward, making you stumble over your feet as he pushes you toward a tree. Two more steps, and you’ll be-

You regain your footing, and shove your shoulder into his chest, using his momentum against him.

In a mere second, you’ve reversed your positions. Though Dabi still holds onto your wrists, you’re the one moving him, pushing against him with all the force you have to slam him into the tree.

Rough bark digs into his back through the fabric of his clothes, and his head hits the trunk so hard that a steady throbbing starts up immediately. He groans and starts to move his head, but something cold pricks at his throat and he goes still.

One of your legs is pushed between his, your knee dangerously close to a vulnerable part of his anatomy. Though his hands are around your wrists, you have one arm pushing against his body to keep him against the tree. The other hand holds a lethal blade of ice—made from water that you pulled right out of the air.

“What the hell do you want with Todoroki Enji?” Your voice is flat. Cold, like the ice you hold to Dabi’s throat.

He lets go of your wrists and raises his hands slowly, showing you that he’s not moving to harm you. If it were any other person pinning him to a tree—which he’s still surprised as hell about—they’d be ashes a while ago, but Dabi is fond of you, he realizes. He enjoys your company, your quick retorts, the way he can make you flustered, and he knows that you aren’t completely enamored with Endeavor.

So his hands reach up to the dragon mask that covers his face. Before he moves any further, though, he speaks, answering your question in a confident drawl, voice deep and raspy with hate burning in his words. “I will fucking destroy Enji Todoroki.”

Your eyes grow wide, and the blade in your hand wavers, but Dabi doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity to break free. He has no reason to run from you.

Instead, he lifts off the black mask, pulling it off his head and letting his hands move back down to his sides. His eyes glow in the darkness, heated by inner flames. A smirk spreads across his lips, and he cocks his head to the side; you shift your ice blade to avoid cutting him.

“I’m the most wanted criminal, doll, the deadliest dragon. You must know me. I’m–”

“Todoroki Touya,” you breathe, at the same time that he finishes speaking.

“–Dabi.”

The words, the name that comes out of your mouth registers in Dabi’s mind. He jolts against you, and you push him back into the tree.

“You said Todoroki Touya,” Dabi growls, the words familiar but unused on his tongue. “How the fuck do you know that name?”

You scowl at him. “I’m the one with the knife here–” you pause to press the ice back against his throat, “–so I’m the one asking the questions. You just get to answer them.”

Dabi clicks his tongue, and sighs. “Should have known you wouldn’t make things easy, little fox. You’re quite cunning.”

The temperature rises around you, and the ice in your hand turns to water. You don’t have enough time to reform it into a blade before Dabi sweeps one leg at your own, knocking your feet out from under you.

For the second time at this festival, you find yourself hitting the ground, breath knocked out of your lungs—this time with a powerful fire dragon pinning you down.

Dabi has his hands around your wrists again, pushing them on the ground on either side of your head. His knees are by your hips, shins pressing down on your legs, caging you in and keeping you in place. You struggle against his grip, trying to wrench your arms free, but his hold is secure.

Realizing you’re not going to go anywhere, you finally still. “What the hell do you want?” you spit out, glaring into his eyes.

He tilts his head and a smirk spreads across his face as he uses your words from earlier against you. “I’m the one pinning you down, doll, so I get to ask the questions. You just worry about answering them, yeah?”

Dabi ignores your glare and your struggle against his grip on your wrists. “So tell me,” he says, voice turning from teasing to menacing, “what the hell do you know about Todoroki Touya?”

You hold his gaze for a long moment before huffing out a breath. If he really is who you think he is, he must only be asking this because he never expected anyone to make the connection. “I always thought it was strange, you know, that such a powerful dragon like Endeavor could have his son just disappear on him. The more I thought about it, the more it didn’t sit right with me. So I did some digging, asked questions, looked at old news articles from that time when you, Touya,” you say pointedly, “went missing.”

Dabi doesn’t confirm nor deny your accusation that he’s Touya, but his silence is confirmation enough.

You press on. “I read about the burns that Touya had. There were rumors that they’re caused by the strength of his flames—that his fire is too hot for his human body to contain. Even Endeavor’s flames never did that to him, so it isn’t a large stretch to think that Touya is more powerful than Endeavor is, even as a child.

“We all know if Endeavor feels that his power is threatened… he’ll eliminate the threat. Even if that threat is his son.”

Pausing, your eyes scan over Dabi’s face to try and read his emotions. His face just seems cold, hard, as if this is not news to him. But his eyes burn brightly under the shadows of the forest, heated from the fire he carries within.

“Go on,” he says, voice just as threatening as before. “If you know Endeavor is capable of such things, why the fuck do you work for him? No money can be enough to win you over after that realization, not unless you’re just a liar and don’t actually give a shit.”

“I did need a job at the time Endeavor was looking for a new secretary. But it’s more than that,” you add on hastily, when the hands around your wrists grow hot. “It’s not right that Endeavor gets to be this high and mighty Dragon Lord over so many of us creatures when he’s done such terrible things to his own son. But if everyone learns about it and tries to overthrow him, he’ll find a way to kill the protestors and seize their properties, only making him wealthier than before.”

You breathe deeply. “I won’t let that happen, not as long as I live. So I took the job, and have worked to gain more and more of Endeavor’s trust.”

Dabi’s lips curl into a sneer of disgust. “And do what with that trust? You’re just trying to play hero.”

Your voice is even as you reply, “Nothing is heroic about murder. And that’s exactly what I plan on doing to Endeavor.”

“You, little fox? Murder? You’re a water sprite. You do know what fire can do to water, yeah?”

You smirk at him. “You do know what water can do to fire, yeah? Besides, I’m no ordinary water sprite.”

And then Dabi no longer holds your wrists in his hands, nor do his shins press down on your legs. In a second, your arms turn to liquid under his grip, seeping out between his fingers and reforming outside of his grasp. Your legs, too, turn to water, only to become skin and flesh when you have them wrapped around his waist.

Then you grip his shirt in your fists, and heave him sideways, using your legs to force the lower half of his body to flip over.

You’re distinctly aware of the position that this leaves you in; hands gripping his shoulders, staring into his still-wide eyes, legs on either side of his waist as your weight rests on his abdomen. You feel warm, and it’s not solely because of Dabi’s higher than normal body temperature.

“You really think I can’t hold my own against Endeavor?” Your voice is smug, pleased at the shock that had flashed across his face when you liquified your limbs.

Dabi swallows, liking the way your mouth curls, completing the sly look with the fox mask over the top half of your face. He’s still reeling over the fact that you were able to do what you did—it takes immense power and control to have your skills, and you’re young, too. But his eyes move up to meet your own, and he is serious when he says, “You’re strong as hell, doll.”

Your lips part slightly at the raw honesty of his words.

He continues, and you listen attentively to him, letting the low, rough sounds of his voice wash over you. “What you can do is fucking astounding, and almost unheard of. But it’s not enough. Even in water form, if he breathes his flames as a dragon, you’ll turn to vapor. At best, you’ll be injured. At worst, you’ll be dead.

“Don’t risk your life for a boy who is long gone.”

You blink, and your vision blurs, holding unshed tears for the lost boy, Touya, and the man, Dabi, he had to become.

“But,” you say, and your words stick to your throat, so you have to swallow before trying again. “But he can’t just get away with it. I won’t let him. I’ll stop him.”

Dabi can’t extinguish the warmth that blooms behind his chest. It’s a warmth not of the flames within him, but from the care and passion you show about Todoroki Touya, a boy you’ve only heard and read about, a boy who has no connection with you. Yet you care.

“No worries, doll. He won’t get away with it.” Dabi pauses, and something settles in his chest as he makes up his mind. “We won’t let him.”

Your eyes widen, and you sit a little straighter on his stomach. “‘We?’ What are you–”

“C’mon, little fox,” he purrs, “you’re smart. We both want the same thing: to see Endeavor dead and gone. It certainly would be easier if the two of us were to work together, yeah?”

It doesn’t take much thought for you to reach your decision. You like Dabi, you’ve enjoyed his company all night. Even though he does tease and fluster the hell out of you, you can give it back just as well. And to learn that he’s the person you were doing all this for?

Your voice is confident as you agree with a simple “Yes.”

Dabi huffs out a quiet chuckle, before raising his right hand up between the two of you. “Glad to have you on board, doll.”

You take it, feeling the calluses on his fingers brush over your skin. “I’m glad, too.”

You shake your hands up and down once, then let go, but he pointedly drags his fingers over your palm before completely releasing you. A tingle runs up your arm.

“So what next?” you ask.

“First of all,” Dabi says, “I’d really like to get off the ground.”

You look down at Dabi. It takes you a second to realize that your whole conversation has happened while one of you is on top of or under one another. An embarrassed squeak leaves your mouth, then heat rushes to your head as you scramble off of Dabi and get to your feet.

Once you’re up, you offer a hand to help him up. He wraps his hand around yours and you pull, getting him to stand in one fluid movement. But you pull a little hard, and he ends up with his chest pressed against your own, with your arm sandwiched awkwardly between.

Dabi guides your arm down to your side before letting go of your hand. He doesn’t step away though. Instead, he slides his arm around you, pressing his hand gently against your back to prevent you from making some space between you.

“Second of all,” he says, the vibrations from his chest buzzing against your own skin, “I’d like to see who I’m working with. You did see me without my mask, little fox, so it’s only fair if I get to see you without yours.”

You swallow nervously. After a moment of silence, you nod. “Okay.”

His eyes light up, but he maintains a neutral expression as he reaches up for your mask with his free hand. Slowly, slowly, he lifts the painted ceramic off your face, sliding it up and over your head. He doesn’t toss it to the ground because it might break, so he presses the mask into your hand.

When your fingers curl around the mask, Dabi moves his hand back up again, snapping his fingers to create a flickering blue flame.

His breath catches in his throat as the light dances across the curves of your face. With his flame tinting your features blue, Dabi thinks you’re the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid eyes on. He’s seen a lot of horror in the past, but one look at you washes the dark images away.

“Fuck,” he breathes, the lightest breath brushing across your face. “You’re pretty as hell.”

The honesty in his voice makes you happy, yet also serves to fluster you. “You’re not too bad yourself,” you manage to respond. Your eyes travel over his face as he does the same to you. You take in his sharp nose, chiseled jawline, the scars up to his mouth and under his eyes. His eyes glow brightly, a blue as pretty as the flames he holds in his hand to cast light onto both of you.

He’s beautiful. Not despite his scars, but in light of them.

A smirk turns up his lips, making him look even more devastatingly handsome. “I think I’m going to like this partnership very, very much.”

You return the smile. Dabi thinks you look ethereal.

“Me too.”

–

You tell him that you have to meet back up with Enji at the festival entrance when the sun rises. Dabi nods while he slips your mask back over your face, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he gently pulls away.

Though he had intended to learn more about Enji and his business dealings at the festival today, Dabi doesn’t need to go after the dragon lord. Not when you are Enji’s assistant, someone who can spill his secrets. He says as much, and your voice is light and teasing as you respond. “And I thought you stuck with me because you liked my company.”

He rolls his eyes as he puts his dragon mask back on. “That means we get until sunrise to finish looking around the festival. You can’t get away from me that quickly.”

You smile at him as both of you walk past the trash can and join the crowds again. “As if I’d want to.”

Dabi’s mouth turns up in the smallest smile, and he moves a hand to rest on your lower back to keep you close. “Where to, doll?”

You hum for a moment in thought. “I need to stop by a stall and pick something up. The owner agreed to hold it for me.”

“Are you gonna tell me what you’re picking up?” When you shake your head, Dabi chuckles and gestures at the crowded path with his free hand. “Lead the way then, doll.”

–

You arrive at your destination and push through the curtains covering the stall entrance. Dabi follows suit. As soon as he steps into the stall and the curtains fall shut behind him, his eyes widen and he whistles at the variety of weapons displayed on the walls and on tables.

“Damn,” he says, eyes taking in a display of silver pistols. “What the hell are you buying?”

The minotaur approaches you with the dagger you had asked him to set aside. The blade is in its sheath, and together the weapon looks beautiful, almost decorative. But when you take it from him with a grateful smile, and unsheathe it, the blade is clearly sharp and shines brightly under the light of small lanterns in the stall.

“Thank you for holding on to this for me,” you tell the minotaur. You slide the dagger into its sheath and reach into one of the deep pockets of your flowy traditional water sprite pants. As you pull out your wallet, your hand bumps into the tin of candy from Dabi, which makes your eyes soften.

Following the minotaur to his counter, you slide your credit card through the card reader to pay for the dagger. It’s expensive, yes, but it has the exact qualities you’ve been looking for. Besides, Todoroki Enji does pay you a pretty nice salary, allowing you to have a decent amount of spending money in addition to your savings.

With a farewell to the minotaur, you nudge Dabi out the stall. You start to wander down the row of stalls as you adjust your belt, slipping the dagger on it to rest beside your flask of water.

“So?” Dabi asks as you peer into a spacious cage with a couple of brightly colored birds in it. “Why do you need a dagger for? From what I’ve seen, you’re more than capable of protecting yourself.”

“I can make my daggers out of ice, but they’re unreliable depending on the magic that my attacker can use.” You catch the smirk that starts to spread on his face, so you quickly speak again. “I thought of this way before I ran into you, got it? Don’t let it get to your head.”

Dabi brings a hand up to his heart, clutching his shirt as if your comment hurts him. He lets out a groan of mock pain.

You snicker at his theatrics and punch his arm; not too hard to seriously hurt him, but enough to sting the slightest bit. “Be quiet,” you order, then tug on his arm to look at another stall that catches your eye.

–

You spend the rest of the night this way, teasing and getting to know each other as you explore a good chunk of the festival.

Dabi buys you a new cone of pixie sugar. It’s at your insistence, but he gives in with relatively few snarky comments. You happily pull tufts of spun sugar from the fluffy cloud and place it on your tongue, the treat dissolving immediately in your mouth. When you lick at the sticky residue left behind on your fingers, Dabi can’t take his eyes off you until he runs into the corner of a table, the sting of pain bringing his attention back to the crowded paths.

You hide your snicker by pushing another mouthful of pixie sugar past your lips.

–

As the stars start to fade away, being washed out by the brightening sky, the two of you make your way toward the main entrance of the festival. You stand off the main path, more hidden in the woods than out in the open.

First you exchange numbers, smiling when you see the contact name he sets for you; the little fox emoji. You set his contact with the flame emoji in return, although Dabi complains that there isn’t a blue one.

Then you pull out your dagger, explaining to him about the runes in the handle that should make it basically fire-proof.

“Can I see it?” Dabi asks.

You wordlessly hand it over, careful not to get either of you hurt by the sharp edges.

“Huh,” he muses, feeling the weight of it. Then without any warning, he lets blue fire blaze from the palm of his free hand, and lets it envelop the length of the blade.

You cry out in surprise. “Dabi!”

A few seconds later, he extinguishes his flames and examines the blade. It’s exactly the same as it used to be, and it’s any warmer than before he let his fire loose. “You got the real deal, then,” he says, handing the dagger back to you.

You sniff and say, “Of course,” as you slide it into your sheath.

“If it withstands my fire, it can definitely withstand Endeavor’s. In our human forms, at least. But that’s good enough, because the fucker is weaker than me, and he’s old as hell.”

“Older and has more experience,” you remind Dabi.

“Yeah,” he admits. “But he doesn’t have you on his side.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you look at Dabi in surprise. He gives you an actual smile, slightly crooked and closed-mouth, but a genuine one.

Warmth wells inside you, and you smile back.

Dabi steps closer and closer to you until he can slide one arm around your waist, the other moving up to lift his mask off his face. He walks you backward until your back bumps against a tree. You look into his brilliant blue eyes, and he holds your gaze.

“Can I kiss you, doll?”

Your eyes shine happily, and you breathe out a “Yes.”

He leans in toward you, closing the distance between his face and yours, until your lips are nearly touching. Then he pauses, and asks, “Are you sure?” His voice is filled with amusement, and your eyebrows draw together in frustration.

“Stop teasing and kiss me, Dabi!”

And he does just that.

His lips meld against yours, a scorching heat that warms you from the outside in. He presses you harder against the tree as he deepens the kiss, the scars that reach up to his lower lip just a bit rough against your own. But he kisses so masterfully, stealing your breath with every brush of his mouth on yours, and though your chest starts to ache for air, you don’t want to pull away.

You finally draw back from him with one final pass of your lips over his, then take a deep inhale of the crisp autumn air.

Dabi looks at you, taking in the way your chest heaves for breath, the slightly dazed look in your eyes. He smirks, blue eyes burning with an intense heat.

Then a deep, rumbling voice can be heard over the sounds of the festival. Both you and Dabi stiffen, and he slips his mask back on his face.

“That’s my cue to exit, doll. I’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

You nod and step away from the tree. “You better,” you say, “or else you’ll have an angry water sprite hunting you down.”

“Scary.” He fakes a shudder. “I know just how terrifying water sprites can get. No worries then, I’ll text you sooner rather than later.” Dabi walks deeper into the forest and is enveloped by the shadows.

A smile lingers on your face as you stare after him. But as a towering figure steps into your field of vision, you school your expression into something more neutral. “Hello, sir. How was the meeting?”

“Good.” That means it was more than successful. “Your boyfriend?” Enji asks after a moment of silence.

Your eyebrow arches in surprise. You didn’t think he’d be interested if you ever were to get into a relationship—not with Enji’s strict rules on being professional. You don’t know how else to explain Dabi’s presence, so you settle with, “Ah, y-yes, sir.”

“You never mentioned him.” He turns his back to you and starts walking toward the main path, and you follow suit.

“It’s a bit of a, um, recent development.” Recent as in you just met the guy a couple hours ago and he isn’t actually your boyfriend.

“I see.”

That’s the extent of your conversation as you get into the car Enji has waiting for both of you at the entrance. As the driver starts the engine and pulls onto the street, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

You pull it out and enter the passcode, opening up the messaging app. There’s a message from a contact with a flame for its name, and your lips curl upward as you open up the message.

So I’m your boyfriend now?

You guess that means Dabi didn’t go too deep into the forest, but stayed close by to make sure you were safe. Warmth settles in your chest at the thought.

You open up his contact information and edit his contact name, biting your lip to stop the smile from spreading across your face. Taking a screenshot of it, you attach the image to a message that you type out. You send it, then shut off your phone, looking out the window of the car to see the rays of the morning sun stretch across the sky.

The soft light bathes everything in a gentle glow.

You smile, content.

–

Dabi’s phone buzzes not long after he sends the message to you. His fingers move quickly as he opens up the messaging app, pulling up the conversation with you. He reads your text.

We’re partners now, aren’t we? It’s only fitting.

He opens up the image you sent, and takes in the screenshot of his contact profile on your phone. There’s nothing there except for his phone number, but then his eyes move up to the contact name.

“Boyfriend,” he muses, “with a black heart next to it.”

Shutting off his phone and slipping it into his pocket, Dabi can’t help but shake his head and let out a quiet chuckle. He hasn’t felt this way in a very, very long time.

He looks up at the sky, where the first rays of sun are casting golden streaks against paleing pinks and blues.

And Dabi smiles, content.

–

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