#there was a cave and i knew we had to descend into it to get to this beautiful camping site on the other side

[yanderecrazysie]

A Dragon's Hoard Part 1 (Yandere! Malleus)

Title: A Dragon’s Hoard (Part 1)

Pairings: Yandere! Malleus Draconia x Reader

AU: My Fantasy AU

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Notes: Malleus's story was voted for first! (BY A LOT) So here you go!

Part 2: here

Mt. Diasomnia’s peak pierced the night sky, cutting the full moon in half. As intimidating as the impossibly tall mountain was, it symbolized hope for you. There were plenty of caves to hide in and a surrounding forest for hunting.

If any place would hide you from King Riddle’s court, it would be this mountain. After all the rules you had broken, the king of the fae would surely clip your wings permanently if you were found. You were a hunted woman so the sooner you disappeared the better.

You spread your transparent wings and took flight. The wind was strong tonight, lifting you higher and higher. The freedom of flying was intoxicating and, for a moment, you allowed yourself to forget the weight of your circumstances.

But then the memory of King Riddle’s cold stare cut through your mind, as sharp as a blade. “Rulebreaker”, he had called you in such a cold voice. You might as well be a traitor to your kind.

The mountain loomed over you as you scanned it for any sign of shelter. A sudden gust of wind caught you and threw you off course for a moment. You gasped as you realized it wasn’t the elevation making the air unpredictable, but magic.

Your wings faltered- you knew this feeling. This was ancient magic, the same used in the time of The Great Ones. Something powerful was stirring inside this mountain. Still, there was no turning back. This was your only hope.

You spotted a wide, dark mouth of a cave yawning above a set of cliffs. You folded your wings and descended towards it. As soon as you set foot inside, a series of chills ran down your spine. It was cold and the air was strangely still. You could hear the sound of dripping water and took that as a good sign.

A faint green glow, barely visible at first, pulsed from the darkness deep within the cave. Something’s here… But anything was better than the fae court finding you, so you pressed on despite the fear rising slowly within you.

You stopped walking suddenly, your heart stopping altogether. A tall figure emerged from the shadows, two glowing, emerald eyes locked on you, piercing through the darkness and causing an otherworldly glow.

“You trespass upon my mountain,” the figure’s deep voice rumbled like thunder.

He stepped into full view and you gasped. He was much taller than you, draped in dark robes, with black horns that rose from his head like a crown.

A dragon in humanoid form!

You couldn’t move, couldn’t say anything, couldn’t breathe. 

A knowing smile curled on his lips, “What have we here? A little fae, wandering into my domain?”

You opened your mouth to speak- to apologize maybe- but no words came out. He began to close the distance between you.

“Tell me,” he said as he drew close, “What brings a rulebreaker to my mountain?”

You flinched like you’d been slapped, “How did you-”

“I know many things,” he hummed.

You stumbled backwards, trying to get away from his approaching form, your wings twitching as if you were about to take flight. But for some reason, you couldn’t move.

He raised a hand and a ribbon of green magic slithered towards you, curling around your wrist like a snake. “You don’t need to be afraid. I will not harm you. On the contrary…” his voice was like silk, “I offer you my protection.”

“Protection?” Stunned, you stopped trying to back away.

“Yes,” he stepped closer until you were forced to look up, “In exchange for something small.”

“What is it?” you asked, voice trembling.

“Companionship.”

You tilted your head in confusion, staring at the mysterious man. Companionship? Is he serious?

“You are hunted, are you not?” he asked, “King Riddle’s court will find you eventually. Unless, of course, you accept my offer.”

You hesitated, looking down at your hand, which was encircled with green magic, “What is this for, then?”

“Proof of our agreement,” he replied, “If you agree, I will mark your wrist with the symbol of a promise.”

“I…” This mysterious stranger had ancient magic, perhaps the only thing that would keep you from being taken in to King Riddle and losing your wings. If companionship was all you had to offer… “I agree.”

There was a sudden pain on the back of your hand and you cried out in pain. The green magic tendril retracted and a strange green symbol was left glowing faintly on the back of your hand. It reminded you faintly of a dragon.

“It is done,” he said simply, “You are now under my protection. None shall harm you.”

“And what does this companionship… entail?” you asked.

A faint smile tugged on his lips, “It is simple- you stay with me, here on Mt. Diasomnia. You speak with me on a daily basis and you do not leave without my consent.”

Your wings fluttered instinctively at the last part, but you nodded. It was a fair trade- if anything, you were getting the better end of the deal.

“You may call me Malleus,” he said, inclining his head, “I am the Dragon Prince.”

“I’m…” Giving your name to someone with such powerful magic was dangerous, but you couldn’t hide it forever, “(Y/n).”

“A fine name,” Malleus said. He gestured deeper in the cave, “Come. I will show you to your quarters. You must be tired from your flight.”

You hesitated, glancing back toward the cave’s entrance. It was almost as dark as the inside of the cave. What was waiting for you, if you were to change your mind? Endless rules? The promise of clipped wings?

With a deep breath, you turned away and followed Malleus deeper into the cave. Somehow, the cave grew warmer the deeper you went. Green crystals jutted out of the walls, casting magical light over the two of you and vibrating your wings with energy.

“This is my sanctuary,” Malleus told you, “Few have set foot here. Consider it an honor.”

The cave opened into a massive chamber with stone walls lined with shelves. Ancient artifacts gleamed under the green light, most of which you’d never seen before. But what was truly amazing was the hoard. Piles of golden coins and gemstones reached towards the ceiling. Silver cups and golden crowns and all sorts of treasure littered the area around a huge, golden throne.

A smaller alcove off to the side held a simple white bed. “That will be your space,” Malleus said, “You will find it comfortable.”

“Thanks…” you said softly. You looked back at the gold towers and watched them shimmer in the green light.

“All dragons have a hoard, little one,” Malleus said. Something about the way he said it made you shiver. His tone softened as he continued, “Sleep now, I won’t keep you from your rest. We will speak more in the morning.”

You hesitated for a long moment, watching him return to his throne, before finally retreating to the alcove. The bed was indeed comfy and, overwhelmed by the day’s events, you fell asleep quickly.

Even with the pain on the back of your hand.

[deepspacenova]

A Dragon's Sacrifice

Beyond Cloudfall deleted scene: in which we experience the trials and tribulations of a frustrated dragon and a snobby mountain cat, and how, exactly, that cat came to find the Sorceress of Ivory City.

➻➻ ABOUT | 2100 words. dragon!sylus x gn!reader.

➻➻ TAGS | fluff. humour. light-hearted. emotional hurt/comfort. missing scene.

NOTE: Dragon!Sylus lives to keep his chokehold on me another day! Haven’t been able to get this out of my head since (like MC) I realized Sylus went on a whole adventure to make her feel better with a cat.

The Dragon stood at the mouth of his cavernous home, gazing out at the rain-soaked city below with a stoic frown. The glowing embers of its citizens’ hearths twinkled in the distance, mocking him with their warmth. The scenery was almost peaceful—a true testament to how unbothered Tarus City was by the Legion’s mindless warpath. He didn’t know whether it was admirable or just another example of mortal stupidity. 

Behind him, a disturbing silence clung to the rocky walls of the cave. The scent of the sorceress — which seemed to have nestled itself inconveniently into every crevice of his supernatural senses — marked her location atop a stone platform. 

Though she toggled between the top of the cave she’d almost hurled herself over the other day — the sharp feeling in his gut from the incident, most likely irritation, had only just dissipated — and the platform, her silhouette remained the same. Knees drawn to her chest, blankly staring into space. He shifted uncomfortably, obsidian horns lightly scraping against the cave’s jagged overhang. 

She wasn’t crying, he knew. She never cried, though he almost wished she would. That would’ve made it easier for him to write her behavior off as nothing more than some human hysterics.

Instead, she exuded a quiet, crushing sorrow that weighed more heavily on his conscience than he cared to admit. She’d been like this for days.

Despite the world’s insistence of his monstrosity, of his evil nature, the dragon didn’t innately enjoy her despair. In fact, she was weighing down the elation he should’ve been feeling over his long-awaited freedom. Shackle-less, far from the abyss, pillaging nearby towns. This should be a happy occasion for him, by the gods, and she was ruining it.

He’d already tried tributes. In his experience, mortals liked trinkets. The greed in their eyes when they gazed upon gold and jewels almost always overtook any other emotion. He grimaced as he recalled yet another way she defied those expectations the past few days, picturing those empty eyes glazing over further at the sight of his offerings.

The dragon sighed. He loathed how her sadness clawed at him, a grating reminder of the humanity he’d long since tried to bury. But she treated him... differently. This fragile, stubborn human. 

Not as a man. Not even as a monster or a dragon. When she spit her version of fire at him, she looked at him as though he were something else entirely. Harmless, unremarkable, and, well, a nuisance. 

It infuriated him, and yet he’d never been regarded with such… normalcy.

He rubbed the back of his neck, claws clicking softly against his scales. He needed to do something. Her melancholy was suffocating.

He unfurled his wings, the membrane stretching taut against the sharp gusts of wind that coiled around the mountain peak. With a powerful leap, he launched himself from the ledge, the force kicking up loose pebbles that scattered down the mountainside. The air whipped past him as he angled his descent toward the copse of trees clinging to the slope below. 

The treetops swayed gently beneath his shadow as he descended and folded his wings tightly against his back. He strolled the area as his irritation bled into a sense of purpose.

“What does a human even want?” he muttered to himself. 

As if in answer, a faint yowl drifted up from the distance. The dragon froze, senses on alert. Peering down the incline of the small forest, he spotted a small, shadowy figure weaving through the underbrush. A scruffy little thing, it had lowered onto its haunches, tail flicking as it hunted for something amidst the tall bushes.

A mountain cat. 

He snorted at the absurdity of the creature’s arrogance. The cat was lean and scrappy, its fur sticking out in untamed tufts. It was prowling around with single-minded determination, oblivious to the real predator watching it from above. 

“A creature as insufferably small and contrary as she is,” he scoffed. Then again… 

The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close. Perhaps this... thing would do.

The thought of those despondent eyes brightening even slightly steeled his resolve. 

Without another word, the dragon unfurled his wings and took flight, gliding effortlessly through the trees, just high enough to keep his approach silent. The soft crunch of underbrush and a flicker of the cat’s ears were the only signs of his arrival.

He stood motionless as the creature turned its curious yellow eyes toward him, fighting offense when it flicked its attention back to its prey, completely unbothered. 

“Right,” the dragon said, crossing his arms. “You’ll come with me willingly, or I’ll drag you by your tail. Either way, your new destiny is to be a gift.”

Abandoning its prey, the cat sat up at the sound of his voice. Finally, some self-preservation in the face of his intimidating presence. 

”So? What’ll it be, little beast?”

The cat blinked at him and then licked its paw, clearly unimpressed. The dragon narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t mistake this for a negotiation, now.” He crouched low, his tail coiling behind him. “I am Stayrus the Fiend. My name alone strikes fear into the hearts of—”

The cat darted away before he could finish, slipping into the underbrush with a small chirp. Growling in indignation, the dragon lurched forward, His wings folded against his back as he pursued, claws tearing through leaves and brambles in his path as the chase began.

It became quite apparent, however, that his dragon-like physique was more well-suited for widespread destruction rather than stealth. His horns snagged on low-hanging branches, his claws caught on roots, and his tail kept dragging in the soft earth, leaving deep gouges in his wake. 

The infernal creature, meanwhile, moved like smoke, slipping effortlessly through gaps and crevices too small for him to navigate. Without his reptilian vision, the dragon was sure he’d have lost it by now.

“Cursed vermin,” he hissed, pausing to disentangle his tail from a thorny bush. “Do you even know who I am? I could scorch this entire hillside with a single breath.”

Though the mountain cat didn’t answer, it did take refuge atop a precariously balanced boulder near the cliffside, its gold eyes glowing mockingly in the moonlight. The dragon glared at it, debating the merits of simply incinerating the creature and presenting her with a pile of ash instead. But no, that wouldn’t do. 

She wouldn’t smile at ash.

The ground beneath him was nowhere near strong enough to hold him for long so he shifted his weight and stepped forward carefully, determined to capture his prey. Just as he was close enough to extend his grasp, the cat sensed him and leapt to the next perch, then the next, its movements fluid and maddeningly graceful until it reached the edge of the cliff, paces away from plummeting toward its sad little death. 

The dragon growled low in his throat.

“You test my patience, creature,” he snarled, lunging for it. His claws grazed its tail, but the cat slipped free, landing neatly on a patch of grass in the opposite direction. 

It meowed at him — a taunt, he was certain of it — before darting off again.

The moon continued to rise over Tarus City as the hours passed and midnight arrived. The once-pristine hillside now bore visible scars of an angry dragon’s pursuit of a wily mountain cat: gouged soil, uprooted foliage, cracked branches, and a few unfortunate scorch marks where the dragon’s temper had flared. The cat, however, remained unscathed, not one patch of fur out of place.

He was reclined against a tree trunk to catch his breath, glaring at the smug feline — who was currently lying on its side, tail swishing calmly every few seconds — as he tried his hardest to hold together what remained of his composure. 

And his dignity. 

“Alright, enough games,” he rumbled, getting to his feet. 

The dragon closed the distance between them in a few swift strides, his footfalls as unrestrained as his frayed patience. To his astonishment, the cat did not flee. Instead, it sat up, blinked lazily at him, and began grooming itself, utterly unperturbed by the massive dragon towering above it. 

“You’re mine,” he declared authoritatively as he reached for it, his moonlit shadow engulfing the small animal.

When his claws were inches from its fur, he hesitated, frowning as the cat glanced up and met the dragon’s gaze with an expression that could only be described as disdainful. 

“You’re not afraid of me,” he said flatly. “Have you been… playing?”

The feline exposed its teeth with a yawn.  

The dragon huffed, a stream of smoke trailing from his exhale. “Fine,” he snapped. “But if you bite me, I swear—”

In one swift motion, he scooped the cat up, lifted it into the air, and nestled it into his arms. It only tensed for a moment before it settled, its tiny body warm against his chest. The dragon blinked, uncertain what to make of the sudden compliance and the contented rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate its body.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, cradling it awkwardly as he spread his wings. “Do not get used to this.”

The flight back to the cave was uneventful, though Sylus was acutely aware of the cat’s claws kneading his scales. It was a strange sensation, almost pleasant — though he’d be taking that confession to his grave.

When he landed, he paused at the cave entrance, staring into the dimly lit yet lavish interior where she still sat, her silhouette framed by the distant city. He frowned, his grip on the cat tightening slightly.

He couldn’t let her know it was from him. That would ruin everything.

Carefully, he placed the cat on the ground and gave it a gentle nudge toward the cave. 

The cat hesitated, glancing back at him as if to say, you coming?

“Go, you vexing creature,” the dragon said, his voice low. “She’ll like you better than I do, that I can promise.”

The cat seemed to consider this, then accept it, padding cautiously into the cave. Every few seconds it would stop to sniff a treasure or rub the side of its face on a damned goblet, like it was purposefully pulling at the last strand of patience left in the dragon’s body.

Careful to stay hidden, he watched from the shadows as it approached her at last, its tail flicking curiously. 

She didn’t notice until it brushed against her leg with a trilling chirp, causing her to blink down at her unexpected visitor.

“Where did you come from?” she murmured, her voice soft but warm. Hesitantly, she reached out, her fingers brushing its fur. The cat made that contented rumbling noise again, leaning into her touch.

And then — finally — a faint smile graced her lips. It was a small thing, fragile, and gone almost as fast as it appeared. But it was enough to melt a block of tension from his body he hadn’t even realized he was holding. 

As she started to sigh and coo over the smug bastard — who was acting as if it had scaled the mountainside to reach her on its own four paws — the dragon backed away, retreating to his usual perch deeper in the cave. 

He couldn’t say he’d be willing to go through the hours he had spent chasing that infuriating creature again. The frustration and humiliation. The near-incineration of half this mountain. 

But seeing that ray of joy banish the stormy dimness from her gaze for a fleeting moment? Well, suddenly the grave indignities he’d suffered that night didn’t smart so badly.

Let her think it was fate, or luck, or some divine gift. Let her smile. That was all that mattered.

He settled in to watch her from afar.

“You’re welcome, my nemesis.”

[mangooes]

A cat rescue mission with the dragon

The wind hummed through the ancient forest, rustling golden leaves beneath the twilight sky. The village on the horizon glowed faintly, but deep in the heart of the wilderness, a small cave nestled among the trees—a home that belonged to (Name) and Sylus.

Or rather, a wandering witch and the fearsome fiend dragon she had freed.

Sylus, the fiend dragon, lounged lazily on a large, sun-warmed boulder near their home. His usual massive, clawed wings were tucked against his back, his long white hair falling into his crimson eyes as he flicked an ember between his fingers.

He had been enjoying the peaceful evening—until a high-pitched cry reached his ears.

“SYLUS!!”

She came running out of the woods, her curly hair bouncing, eyes wide with urgency.

Sylus sighed, barely lifting his head. “What now, human?"

She grabbed his scaled arm, tugging him insistently. “Come quick! There’s a cat! It’s stuck! We have to save it!”

Sylus blinked at her. “…A what?”

“A CAT, SYLUS!” she all but yelled, flailing her hands for emphasis. “An adorable little creature! It’s stuck high up in the tree and can’t come down! It’s scared! We have to do something!”

Sylus flicked his gaze toward the pathetic little furball, its tiny form trembling as it clung to a dangerously thin branch.

The dragon sighed. "Let it fall."

She gasped dramatically. "Sylus!"

He smirked. "What? If it has nine lives, it can afford to lose one."

She stomped her foot. "You heartless lizard!"

Sylus snorted. "I’m a dragon, sweetheart."

"A dragon who is going to help me save that cat!"

Sylus narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to say one wrong thing.

Then she did.

She clasped her hands together, her bottom lip trembling just enough to be dangerous.

"Please, Sylus?" she whispered sweetly.

…Damn it.

He could feel his resolve crumbling like a weak fortress. She knew exactly how to break him.

With an exaggerated groan, the mighty fiend dragon lowered his head to her level. "Fine. But I’m not just getting the cat."

She blinked. "Huh?"

Without another word, he lifted her off the ground, placing her effortlessly on his broad, scaled shoulder.

She squeaked, grabbing onto his sharp horns. "Sylus—!"

"You wanted the cat?" His deep, rumbling chuckle vibrated beneath her hands. "Then we’re getting it together."

And with that, he launched into the sky.

Wind rushed past them as Sylus carried her effortlessly, his massive wings cutting through the air with ease.

From this height, the forest below looked like a sea of endless green, the sky stretching into a vast infinity.

She clung to his shoulder, her heart pounding with excitement. "Sylus! This is amazing!"

Sylus smirked. "You act as if I haven’t flown you before, little witch."

"Not while on a rescue mission!"

With a powerful wingbeat, Sylus hovered beside the tree where the frightened cat still clung for dear life.

She reached out carefully, her voice gentle and reassuring. "Shh, little one, it's okay..."

The cat meowed pitifully, its fur bristling, but (Name)’s warmth had a way of soothing all creatures.

As soon as she secured the cat in her arms, Sylus pulled away from the tree, descending gracefully.

But instead of landing immediately, he spiraled playfully through the air, dipping and turning just to hear her delighted laughter.

"Sylus! Stop playing around!"

"Why?" he purred, his deep voice dripping amusement. "You seem to be enjoying yourself."

She huffed, but he felt the way she buried her face into his scales, her warmth sinking into him.

He could fly with her forever.

When they finally landed, Sylus gently lowered her to the grass, his massive wings curling around her protectively.

She cradled the cat in her arms, beaming up at him.

"See?" she said, her smile bright. "You do have a heart."

Sylus arched a brow. "Don’t start rumors, kitten."

She laughed, pressing her face into the cat’s fur. "Thank you, Sylus."

He stared at her, completely, utterly enchanted.

Then, with a huff, he tugged the tail of his around her waist, tugging her closer to him.

"Don’t thank me," he murmured, his voice low and fond. "Just promise you won’t ask me to save a squirrel next."

(Name) giggled, satisfied with her adventure today.

But Sylus wasn’t really worried about that.

He was too busy wondering how a little witch had managed to tame a dragon’s heart.

I PROMISED A DRAGON SYLUS FLUFF DRAFT AND HERE IT IS!!! anywayss ill publish the part 2 of the cat series tomorrow since i still have to edit some stuff and i dont think im gonna include the other lis (sorry) anywayss MYTH SYLUS'S STORY LINE CAN STAB ME

[dustmusings]

brightest in the dark

Crosshair x F!Reader

word count: 9.2k

description: when you get caught up in an inescapable cave-in, crosshair finds that some things are easier to confess when it feels like the end of the road

warnings/tags: angst for sure but not all the way through, crosshair is an angsty boy in a lot of ways, forced proximity, frenemies (?) to lovers — reader and cross have a strained relationship because of the aforementioned angstiness of the boy, perceived unrequited love, injury detail, blood & needles, jealous (and a bit insecure) crosshair, implied there might be something between hunter & reader (spoiler: there isn't), grumpy/sunshine kinda, reader is a medic (how original), reader is described as being a similar size to crosshair, some suggestive dialogue but nothing nsfw

a/n: I will make every clone yearn if it’s the last thing I do. sue me. also If anyone knows where I took the title from we can be best friends forever btw. and shoutout to @lonewolflupe for the ‘sky rodeo’ <3

masterlist | join my taglist | read on ao3

“Have you got your water bottle?”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, kicking off the side of the Marauder as you descended the ship’s stairs with an irritating pep in your step.

“Mm” he confirmed, taking a toothpick from his belt, already pre-empting a grinding jaw.

“Medkit?” you asked, stopping just next to him to secure the top of your knapsack.

Crosshair didn’t reply, he just gave you a sidelong glance of irritation, toothpick clenched between his teeth. You looked over to him, most likely upon realising he wasn’t going to answer, and deflated slightly at his expression.

“Crosshair, have you got your medkit?” you asked more pointedly, an edge of exasperation that made the edges of his lips quirk up marginally.

“Yes, I have” he mumbled out, turning away from you and catching Hunter’s glare as he walked in his direction.

Crosshair had to fight the urge to roll his eyes again, he already knew what he was going to say.

“She’s only trying to help” Hunter scolded him, “if I hear that you've given her a hard time—”

“Alright, I get it” Crosshair snapped, his gaze as sharp as his tongue.

Hunter gave him an unimpressed look, eyebrows raised and a sigh escaping his lips, “alright, try not to take too long, report back as soon as you've got a visual”

Crosshair didn't try to suppress his eye roll this time, “this isn’t my first sky rodeo, Hunter”

“I know, but—”

“You ready, Cross?”

Crosshair's head twinged to the side slightly as his eyes fluttered closed, his jaw grinding and teeth clamped together at the nickname. He'd pretend it was because he hated it, as he always did.

He didn't reply, instead stalking away from the two of you and off in the direction of your mission objective. He could hear the way your feet scurried to catch up with his long strides and huffed, gripping his helmet tightly at his side. He felt your eyes on him, running them over his armour, and it took everything within him to keep from meeting your gaze.

“How did you sleep last night?” you asked, making his jaw tick noticeably.

He knew you had recognised his poor sleeping habits of late, but he wasn't really in the mood to speak about it, especially as it had something to do with the fact that you'd started sleeping in Hunter's bunk. He wasn't sure why, but that was somehow even more torturous than knowing.

“Fine” he replied coldly, keeping his eyes ahead as the two of you followed the trail that lead down into the valley below.

You sighed, “Cross…”

“Don't call me that” he grumbled, no real bite behind the demand, “and I said fine, so drop it”

He saw your shoulders slump out of the corner of his eye and shook his head, disappointed in himself once again.

Truth be told, Crosshair was painfully enamoured by you. Smitten was a more appropriate description really. He certainly felt as if he had been smited by some cruel deity who deemed that his life was worth being made difficult. He bore it like an open wound that he tried to ignore, a mess that wasn't given the proper amount of care and attention, and bled into the way he treated you.

You’d always been too kind to Crosshair, far kinder than he deserved. As much as it was your job as a medic, you always took care of him in the same way as the others, even though they always treated you with a level of respect that he didn't. He wished everyday that he could take it all back, go back to the beginning and start over, let you know how much he appreciated you and your efforts, how his feelings had grown for you to the point where his chest ached every time your smile was directed at someone who wasn't him.

It made little sense, he knew that. He acted as if he didn't care whether you lived or died, but it was the fact that you didn't seem to care that made him continue to act that way. So he couldn't take it back after all, and maybe he wouldn't want to anyway, because how else could he get close to you? He knew that made little sense too, but very few things were clear to him when it came to you.

In any case, he'd go on suffering in silence, a suffering of his own making that he cursed himself everyday for.

You did have a friendship, of sorts. He wouldn't call it that, and would certainly never admit it, but you were insistent in trying to get him talking. The way it would play out often went along the lines of him teasing you, making fun of you, to see how far he could push you as a juvenile way of coping with the magnitude of his affections. It was the closest thing to affection he would allow himself. You often rebutted his teasing remarks with ones of your own, and as much as he appreciated you matching his attitude, he mostly wished that you wouldn't allow him to get away with it, that you would give him a reason to show how he truly felt about you.

Safe to say the opportunity hadn't arisen, and he wasn't crossing his fingers either.

This mission's objective was simple; go and scout ahead, and comm the others when it was safe for them to move out. Since your joining the group eight months ago, Crosshair had often been lumbered with you in situations such as this. As the sniper, he wasn't made for nor enjoyed close combat fighting, and as the medic with little combat training, it suited you to hang back until you were needed.

Thankfully, the terrain that you were traversing this time was straightforward, a narrow valley that brought you right up to a ridge that overlooked a separatist outpost. Although the area was simple to cut across, it only made the silence that stretched between you even more tense, with no buffer to distract either of you.

You kicked up dust into the air with the way you were dragging your feet, and Crosshair was half of the mind to replace his backpack with you just so he wouldn't have to hear the grating noise. Holding a datapad in hand, you tapped the screen, tracking the direction that the two of you were heading in.

“Two more klicks” you mumbled, cutting through the tension with all the effectiveness of a butter knife.

Crosshair grunted in reply, casting his eyes across the top of the valley as the two of you descended to the very bottom. His hand shot out, slamming against your abdomen and stopping you in your place.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice low as you saw the way his gaze skimmed the top of the valley.

Crosshair slowly reached back and took his firepuncher from his backpack, “we're being watched”

The moment the first blaster bolt flew, Crosshair grabbed your waist and pushed you behind him, bringing his blaster into position and picking off the sniper droids he could see. Each bolt found its mark, piercing the droids between their eyes.

“Find us some cover” he ordered as he shoved his helmet over his head, looking for incoming droids. He turned back the way you had come, blaster raised as he walked backwards. It was silent for a moment, the only thing he could hear being the gentle padding of your feet against the ground behind him.

“Crosshair, in here” he heard you call from not far away, and he gave one last look around the edge of the valley before turning and making his way towards your voice.

There was a small cavern at the base of the cliff, a hideaway cut from the rock, and it looked to have been used for shelter before. A small pile of logs indicated a fire, with stones outlining a pit of ashes, only just visible with the way the afternoon light shone in through the opening of the cave.

Crosshair squared himself with the wall of the cave to look outside, his back pressed against it as he followed the line of the cliff through his scope. He felt your presence next to him, your chin knocking against his spaulder as you peered over his shoulder. Your breath wafted over the sliver of skin between the top of his blacks and his helmet, and his breath hitched as the heat of it made his skin prickle.

“Stay” he muttered, stepping forwards to put some distance between you, and to make sure that it was safe to move again. He stepped out into the valley once more, his rifle raised and ready should he meet more adversaries.

It was eerily quiet, the whistling of the wind the most audible sound, carrying no others on it. Crosshair stalked around the base of the valley, making sure that no other droids were in the vicinity, and called for you to join him when he was sure.

“One moment” you muttered, “I think there's a stone in my boot”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, lifting his weapon to look through the scope and make extra sure that it was safe. He wandered around as he waited, his own boots softly crumbling the dirt beneath them, then came to a stop next to you after a few moments, watching as you buckled up your boot again.

You looked up at him and a small smile crossed your lips, but almost instantly dropped, as if you'd done something wrong, “let's go”

Crosshair felt his heart fall from his chest at the subtle action. The fact that you wouldn't even allow yourself to smile at him left a gaping hole through the middle of him, and he felt completely and utterly ashamed. He knew it was his own fault, he'd blame himself even if it wasn't, but he wasn't prepared for how the simple motion would bring his mettle to its knees.

As he was caught up in staring at you with an inscrutible expression, one that didn't give away even one ounce of the anguish he felt, a blast flew straight past him, and narrowly missed your arm. He pushed you back inside the cave on instinct, and whipped around to deal with the incoming attack, but upon seeing the increased amount of firepower now gunning for the two of you, he quickly followed you inside, picking off the droids towards the front of the formation as he walked backwards.

As the droids continued firing down at you, a blast lodged itself in the ledge above the opening to the cave. When the rocks there crumbled away, they seemed to focus all their fire above you. Crosshair didn't think about the immediate implications of it, he just kept knocking down what droids he could, but when you called out his name and grabbed his arm to pull him backwards, he understood.

The rocks came down almost in slow motion, but quick enough that the pair of you couldn't have made it out in time. Crosshair fell backwards as you tugged on his arm, stumbling and trying to find his footing before he was taken to the ground. In the scramble to get away, a rock snagged his shoulder, just between his cuirass and spaulder, and he released a deep grunt as it brought him to his knees with the impact.

For a moment it was quiet again, only the heavy sound of breathing being heard in the darkness of the cave. Crosshair kept his head down, trying to keep his breath even and cut out the pain from his wound, though it was quickly becoming apparent to him that his shoulder was not in any sort of good condition. He could feel blood tricking down his side, soaking through his blacks, and he felt himself becoming feint, his mind fuzzy and unfocused.

A light flicked on, shining directly at him, and he groaned again, the hand of his uninjured arm lifting to cover his eyes.

“Crosshair” your voice was a hoarse whisper, as if it had got caught in your throat, and it wasn't hard to guess why.

He slumped forwards slightly, his back hunching as he dug his knees further into the ground to distract from the pain.

“I know” he said quietly, not even having looked at the damage yet. He was far too concentrated on trying to ignore it.

The light flicked off with the click of a button, and he heard you shuffling around, your knapsack hitting the ground with a thud that told him you were moving quickly, your actions rushed. Soon after, a warmer light started growing, and Crosshair realised you had taken out a lamp, and were now dragging it over to him with a medkit in hand.

He looked up, the softer light not invading his vision in such a piercing way, and he could now see the worry in your eyes. His gut twisted, the uncomfortable feeling of guilt spreading through his body and only making his wound ache more. You knelt in front of him, ripping off his helmet before your hand gripped his spaulder and pulled it aside to get a proper look at the injury. The both of you sucked a breath through your teeth, Crosshair in pain and you no doubt because of how bad the damage was.

You got to work quickly, silently, and unclipped the top half of his armour to get better access. Crosshair was glad that you weren't talking, he was already embarassed enough, feeling infantile, crumpled to his knees and completely weak in front of you. He was powerless to do anything else, his head pounding and vision hazy as blood gushed from his wound.

“Hold this here” you said firmly, pushing a cloth into the wound and bringing him back to the present harshly, another pained noise leaving him.

He followed your instruction without much thought, and when he took the fabric from you to hold in place, he felt the way your hand was shaking. His eyes snapped up to yours, and the distress he saw written into your expression was enough to shock him back into full consciousness.

Crosshair watched your movements carefully, his keen eyes noticing every twitch and shiver as you fumbled with the syringe. He wanted to comfort you in any way he could, but truthfully, he didn't know how. It wasn't something he'd ever sought to do, and now faced with the challenge, he didn't know what would be the right thing to say.

“It's just a scratch” he mumbled, a small chuckle passing his lips in an attempt to at least alleviate some of the tension.

“A scratch?” you huffed, your voice disbelieving as you shot him a unimpressed look, “this isn't funny, Crosshair”

“Hey—”

“If I hadn't pulled you away you'd still be there. You'd be de—”

Crosshair called your name sternly, and you stopped your fiddling with the syringe to look up at him, “it's going to be fine, do you hear me?”

His voice was grave, and while he knew it wasn't necessarily a comforting tone, it was the best thing he could muster up with the panic steadily growing within him. Your eyes flicked between his, your shoulders relaxing slightly after a few seconds.

“Okay” you breathed out deeply, pressing your hand over his to hold the cloth tighter to the wound, “look to your right”

Crosshair could feel his pulse throbbing all over his body, the blood rushing through him and towards his wound, towards the hand that covered his and brought about such a reaction. Your skin was warm through the fabric of his glove, and he'd been so distracted by the touch that he barely registered when you had administered the pain relief injection into his neck.

You took your hand from his as you placed down the syringe, and then found the hem of his blacks, your fingers skimming along the edge, “I need to take this off, is that okay?”

“It's fine” Crosshair replied, taking the cloth away from his wound to allow you to continue.

You nodded once, and ran your palms across the skin of his abdomen as you peeled the body glove from him. Crosshair couldn't help the way his body shivered, the way his jaw clenched at the feel of your hands on his skin. His eyes locked with yours as you pulled the top up, warm knuckles brushing over him, and he let out a shuddering breath, trying to relax his mind. He groaned in pain, eyes screwing shut when he lifted his arm to help you take the shirt from his injured shoulder.

“I know, I know” you spoke soothingly, your voice measured and calm as you discarded the shirt, “I’m sorry”

“Don’t apologise” Crosshair hissed out, the pressure to his wound returning as you grabbed his hand once more and brought the cloth to his shoulder.

“Alright, here's what's going to happen now” you started, your hand still covering his as you held his attention, “I'm going to take this away and clean the wound first. It's going to hurt a lot, but it'll be over before you know it. Then I'm going to need to stitch it up”

“It's that bad huh?” Crosshair huffed a laugh, still not keen to look down at the wound, but he heard how strained his voice sounded in saying it.

“It's going to be fine” you assured him, and your fingers closed around his, gripping his hand tightly, “it'll only take a few minutes, and then it's just a matter of putting a bacta patch over it”

He breathed out deeply, his skin alight where yours was touching it, trying to remain as calm as possible.

“Alright, do it” he spoke, forcing his eyes away.

You gave his hand one last squeeze as you brought it away, and despite how it made his heart flutter, it wasn't enough to fight the stinging pain of the antiseptic spray.

As you cleaned out the gash, wiping away drying blood and dirt, you responded to Crosshairs groans and whimpers of pain with comforting words, telling him that it was almost over, and as much as he appreciated it, he only felt more embarrassed. In the lull between cleaning and stitches, he tried to take steadying breaths, but the antiseptic was still stinging at the open wound.

“Are you ready?” you asked quietly, and his eyes found yours again at the softness of your voice.

You held the curved needle in your hand, ready for whenever he said the word, and between his deep breaths and pounding head, he couldn't help but just sit and admire you for a moment too long.

“Do you want something to hold on to?”

“What?” he frowned.

“To grip, for the pain? or… something to bite down on?” you suggested.

“No, no” he dismissed, shaking his head.

“Okay, I'm going to start now” you informed him, and he nodded quickly.

As soon as the needle pierced his skin, Crosshair's hands shot out and gripped the fabric of your shirt, bunching it at your waist with the way his fingers tightened, his bones almost creaking beneath the pressure.

“Fuck” he breathed out, trying hard to keep himself in check, to distract himself by focusing on the rhythm of your breath.

“I know” you said gently, “you're doing well, just a couple more”

His head fell forwards, resting his forehead against your temple as you worked, and he instead found that he was losing himself in your presence. He could feel your breath against his cheek, steady and warm, where his was harsh and shallow. You continued to send comforting words his way, your sharp actions a direct contrast to your tone and sentiments. He focused on the sound on your voice, the scent of your hair, the soft fabric of your tunic between his fingers, and soon they began to loosen.

“There, all done” you pulled away from him as you put down the needle and peeled off the back of a bacta patch, and Crosshair had to catch himself from falling forward.

You placed the patch over the affected area, lightly running your fingers over the edges to press it into his skin, and he immediately felt the solution beginning to cool the flaming agony that stemmed from the gash. A breath left him, and he sat back on his heels more as his head tipped back in relief.

“Better?” you asked.

“Better” he replied, then looked down at you to see your worried expression taken over by something more unreadable.

You chuckled slightly as you tidied up the medkit, “don't worry, I'm not expecting a th—”

“Thank you" he spoke before you could finish, voice firm enough that your eyes snapped back up to his.

You cocked your head a little as you looked over his features, “well… you're welcome then”

Placing the medkit back in your knapsack, you produced a dark piece of fabric, handing it over to him. He looked at the black material clasped in your hand and realised you were offering him your spare blacks.

“That wont fit me” he nodded his head to the item of clothing, an unimpressed furrow in his brow.

He watched on as you frowned in return, then trailed your eyes down his chest and abdomen, no doubt sizing him up.

“We look about the same size”

Crosshair scoffed, “are you calling me skinny?”

“Are you calling me skinny?” you replied amusedly, one of your eyebrows raising in tandem with your lips.

He rolled his eyes, “whatever, hand them over”

He held out his hand, looking away from your irritatingly enraptured gaze, and you dropped the top into his hand. He threaded his arms through the top and the sleeves, going to pull it over his head until his shoulder cried out in protest, and another pained grunt escaped him. He tried again, but was met by the same results.

“Here, let me help y—”

“Don't touch me” he replied on instinct, his tone venomous in a way that made his insides coil tightly together with guilt. He could see the hurt in your eyes, a flicker of sadness that only made that nasty feeling inside of him pull taut.

Truthfully, he couldn't stand to have you touch him. If he hadn't been so woozy previously, he may have shrugged off your help with his wound as he usually did, telling you he could sort it himself. Now that he was in his right mind, there was no way he would let you anywhere near him. He didn't trust himself around you. He didn't think he could have you touch him and not do everything in his power to keep it that way.

Though, observing the hurt in your eyes, in the slight downturn of your lips, he felt he couldn't deny you anything in that moment. After a long silence, he sighed. “I'm sorry”

Without so much as a single word, your hands found the fabric of the top, and you gently pulled it over his head. Crosshair knew he didn't have to say anything, because as much as he wished you didn't, you knew him well, and could read him far more than he was comfortable with.

He kept his eyes trained on yours. So much of your emotions were given away by your eyes, and he felt that you didn't try very hard to hide them, not like he did. He admired you for that. You were so openly giving and sought connection with everyone, even him. Your eyes caught his as you pulled the top down over his chest.

A small smirk wound it's way onto your face, “don't worry, I won't tell the others you needed help dressing like a little boy”

Crosshair huffed, trying to disguise what was really a laugh as an unimpressed scoff.

“I'm going to try and contact them” you muttered, moving away from him to pull out your comm. “Hunter? Are you there?” you were met by static, nothing coming through the line.

You tried again a few more times, calling for Hunter to reply, and every time you said his name it was like a punch to the gut. The last time was so desperate, so soft and bordering on loving that Crosshair almost clamped his hands over his ears. He couldn't stand it.

He didn't want to feel resentful towards Hunter, he only had himself to blame for leaving the space for something to blossom between the two of you, and it didn't surprise him in the least. You were both generous in a similar way, looking out for others before yourself, and it made sense that you had gravitated towards each other.

He tried to push it from his mind, vaguely aware that you were sending a recorded message about what had happened. He was more focused on the intense need he had to escape this situation. He couldn't be trapped in here with you, it would be the end of him, he was sure.

You began trying to shift some rocks from the base of the mound they had fallen into, but it only caused a slide from the ones on top of it. You yelped as you sprang back, and a thin crack appeared, running along the ceiling of the cave. Crosshair just huffed and pushed himself off of the ground, going to continue on in your stead.

“I'm not sure that's—”

The same thing happened, the crack deepening and small rocks falling from the ceiling. Crosshair paid it no mind, but you insisted that he stopped, pleading with him when it only got worse, more rocks shifting unsteadily and falling down around you. Really, it was hurting him a lot, his shoulder calling out for him to stop much like you, but the prospect of being stuck in here struck him as far more painful.

You had always given back what Crosshair gave out for the most part, but with the tone of your voice, he could tell your patience was wearing thin. You were quickly losing your sense of humour, and you finally snapped.

“You know what Crosshair, I'm kriffing sick of you! If you want to go and get yourself killed, be my guest, I won't stop you”

Crosshair stopped what he was doing, turning to face you, “you don't mean that”

His tone was partly joking, partly serious, as he didn't know which end of the scale you were on at that point.

“I mean every word” you spat at him, far more angry than you'd ever been, and you grabbed the lamp, dragging it behind you as you walked away.

He watched you slide down the far wall of the cave, your arms wrapping around your knees as you brought them into your chest in a huff. For a moment Crosshair didn't know what to do, but he figured he wasn't going anywhere if you weren't onside, so he trudged over you slowly, not approaching quickly for how he didn't know what kind of reaction to expect.

“Go away” you muttered, your eyes staring ahead of you, hardened with a resolve to not engage with him.

“No” he replied petulantly.

“I'm not dealing with your shitty attitude right now” you gritted through your teeth, still not looking at him.

It seemed that his mistreatment of you had finally caught up to him, and made you snap, and Crosshair was almost scared of the uncharted territory that you were now in.

“Just get up and help me shift these rocks” he knocked his foot on yours, urging you to abide, but you didn’t move.

You were silent, and realised then that it looked as if you were shaking subtly, but it was hard to tell in the low light. He was worried about you, but he knew there wasn't anything he could say or do that would help. He crouched next to you with a small sigh.

“What's the matter with you?”

“The matter? Crosshair we're stuck in here!” you finally looked up at him, a scrunch in your nose that he couldn't help but find adorable, and he found himself wishing you would have snapped at him before.

“What? Are you scared?” he asked, his usual teasing tone making an appearance.

“Yes! I'm scared, alright?” you hissed, and he could see a flicker of fear in your stormy eyes, “I don't know why you aren't”

“I don't get scared” he replied quickly, a knee-jerk response.

You laughed humourlessly, rolling your eyes, “right, of course. I should've thought of that”

Crosshair could see he wasn't getting anywhere, so he took a seat next to you, his back to the wall, one knee bent to rest his forearm on.

“I can't believe I'm going to die trapped in here with you” you grumbled out.

A pang of hurt cut deep in Crosshair's chest, but he forced a dry chuckle past his lips, an instinctual reaction to deflect the pain. You didn't seem so amused.

“Hey” he said softly, and you turned your head to look over to him, “we're not going to die”

His voice was as soothing as he'd allow himself, and he hoped that it could bring you even a little reassurance. You seemed almost taken aback, your mouth hanging open a little as your eyebrows raised. You blinked at him, and then settled back into a frown.

“I'm not stupid Cross, there's no way to know whether we're going to get out of this or not” you spoke softly.

The nickname made his chest seize up, but he sighed, leaning his head back against the wall of the cave, “you're right”

He wasn't going to lie to you, you didn't need that, and it wouldn't fix anything about the predicament you found yourselves in.

For a little while, you sat in silence, save for a steady drip of water on the opposite side of the cave that Crosshair had failed to notice previously. Now, it was all he could focus on. It was a particularly grating noise, something irritatingly steadfast and unyielding about it, just existing in the same space as you, but doing a much better job at consistency than him. It felt like it was taunting him, mocking him, calling him a coward. Maybe he was already going crazy, but either way, he felt compelled to speak up, if only to try and drown it out.

“I'm sorry” he said quietly, almost a whisper.

You sighed deeply, deflating, “it's not your fault”

Crosshair shook his head though you didn't see it, “I mean, that you're stuck here with me. I know that you'd prefer if it was Hunter instead”

You looked over at him with a curious expression, one that he only saw for a split second before he had to turn away. He couldn't bring himself to look at you for whatever you were about to say.

“That's not exactly true” you said in a measured tone.

His gazed snapped up to you, and you were giving him one of those looks where you were trying to figure him out. He hated when you did that, you were so good at it after all. He sometimes felt that you could see right through him and into his very soul, but he sincerely hoped that wasn't the case, he couldn't think of anything more horrifying.

“I didn't mean what I said before” you murmured, turning your body towards him with a small smile, “you're a great end of the universe buddy really”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, “so you don't actually want me to die?”

“Of course I don't” your face softened with your tone, and he couldn’t believe that such a tender look could be directed at him, he could only think that he didn’t deserve it, “you just drive me up the wall sometimes”

His lips quirked into a small smirk on instinct, and then it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“No one enjoys winding me up as much as you” you muttered, drawing your knees back to your chest as a shudder wracked your body.

Crosshair cast his eyes over you at the action, realising that your medics robes were not as warm as the blacks you had packed for situations exactly like this. He thought that maybe if he was a better man he'd give the top back to you. That's what Hunter would do. Instead, he looked across the cave, to where the previous dwellers had made a makeshift fire. There wasn't much wood, but it would be better than nothing.

“You have a lighter in there?” he asked, motioning his hand towards your knapsack.

“Uh… yeah” you replied.

Crosshair pushed himself from the ground, only a small grunt leaving his lips as the bacta had already began healing his wound. He grabbed the bag and crouched down by the pile of wood, rifling through it to find the lighter which was rattling around at the bottom.

As he arranged the remaining pieces of wood into his preferred shape, you stood and walked over to retake your seat in front of the soon-to-be fire. He got it going quickly enough, lighting one of the smaller pieces and placing it into the structure he had built, but it was weak at best. It wasn't going to keep for more than a few hours with the resources available, and Crosshair was already worrying about what would happen then.

He looked over to where the opening of the cave had been. In the dim light he could see the crack that had appeared in the ceiling, and he felt his stomach twist into a tight knot upon observing how much worse it was already. He blew a long breath out, making the fire ahead of him flicker slightly more, before it settled into its previous dance. Crosshair couldn't hear the dripping anymore, not above the crackle of the fire, and it was a strange relief. Thank the maker for small mercies, he thought, inwardly scoffing at the sarcastic thought.

“Why haven't you been sleeping?”

The question caught him off guard, so buried deep in his own thoughts that he had almost jumped when you spoke up.

“I don't want to talk about it” he mumbled in reply.

You nodded, seemingly satisfied with the assertion, but he could tell something lingered in your mind at the way you watched the flames before you both.

“You've been in my dreams the past few nights” you said absentmindedly, eyes almost glazed over as you stared into the fire, little regard for how it made Crosshair’s heart skip several beats. Your eyes flicked up and met his, and he lifted an eyebrow, not sure how else to react. You chuckled slightly before you continued, “they weren't great dreams, really. Nightmares, maybe”

Crosshair could feel his insides constrict at the idea of him featuring in your nightmares, his heart beating faster as he willed himself not to react in any way.

“Go on”

He watched your throat bob as you swallowed, “well, it always starts with me being chased by a fire-breathing lizard… creature”

Crosshair couldn’t help the way the edges of his lips lifted a little, and he brought his hand up to scratch at his stubble to try and hide it.

“I can see you laughing at me” you scoffed, “it was scary at the time”

“I'm sure” Crosshair replied, still fighting a smirk.

“Whatever” you rolled your eyes, uncrossing you legs to stretch them out ahead of you so you faced the far wall of the cave.

Crosshair’s curiosity quickly got the better of him, “what was I doing there?”

You looked back over to him before turning your face back down to your feet where you gently kicked your heel into the ground, “it's… silly, really. Far fetched”

He frowned, “I'm listening”

You huffed, and he could see your cheeks darken as you deliberated over your next words, “you were protecting me. You had a durasteel sword and you were trying to slay the creature”

Crosshair’s eyebrows raised, but quickly shot back down at your earlier insinuation, “why's that so far fetched?”

You tilted your head to look at him, your own frown creasing your brow, “I don't know, it's not something you'd do in real life”

A pang of hurt sent a sharp pain through his chest. He could feel it, like a real, physical thing, a knife piercing through his heart. You truly believed that he didn't care for you in any way shape or form, and as much as he knew he had no right to feel slighted by it, it cut deep within him.

“Nice to know you think so little of me” he grumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest and tucking his chin behind them as he stared into the fire.

He could see your eyes go wide even as he refused to look at you, “I don't think little of you! I— I think you're… great, just—”

“Just what?” he snapped, eyes darting back up to yours.

“I don't know, I don't see you doing that for me”

Crosshair's frown only got deeper, and he forced himself to look away and into the fire again. All of the hurt and jealousy within him, every negative emotion he had brought upon himself by not being honest with you bubbled up to the surface, and he failed to keep it to himself.

“I feel like I've upset you” you said softly, but he just grunted in reply, “what is it?”

“You really think I wouldn't protect you?”

He knew that this was a path he didn't want to go down, one he wouldn't dare tread if both your lives didn't hang in the balance, but they did. He felt vulnerable, more vulnerable than he ever had or wanted to, and severely misjudged. Something about it made indignance rise up his throat and mingle with his words.

You paused, but spoke you mind after a moment, “not at the expense of yourself, no”

He grunted again, “well you're wrong”

“Why?”

“why?” he scoffed, shuffling his feet ucomfortably, “I'm not heartless, you know”

“I didn't say you were” you rebutted, and he finally looked up at you when you paused. You watched him carefully, “you would… put yourself in harm's way, for me?”

“Of course”

The shock was evident on your face, your mouth hanging open a little as you stared back at him, eyes wide and unblinking, and he knew instantly that he'd said too much, and that you didn't feel the same way for him. The worst part was, he understood. He knew that he'd given no reason for you to care for him in any real way past doing your duties as a medic, and any kindness you had offered him had been purely from the goodness of your heart, with no ulterior motives in consideration. All the same, it was frustrating. He was frustrated at himself.

His gaze dropped to the fire once more, and it felt as if it were stinging his eyes, but he soon realised that the sensation was actually brought forth by the tears that had collected in his waterline. He blinked them away, knowing that he couldn't, shouldn't cry, even if he had just come to the realisation that you would never see him the way he saw you, never admire him like that, never adore him like he wanted you to. It made him feel like a cadet again, surrounded by people who were supposed to be his brothers, but only feeling like something was wrong with him, that he was unwanted and unlovable for a reason that would forever elude him.

It was his fault. All his fault. He knew it, he’d always known it, and he'd have to live with it for as long as he knew you. It didn't make it any better to know it, it only made it worse. He wished he could blame it on you, make it easier for himself, displace all the blame and take this crushing weight from his shoulders, but he wouldn't wish this weight upon anyone else, much less you.

He didnt dare look up at you again, especially as you hadn't said anything. If the ground opened up and swallowed him whole in that moment he wouldn't have cared, or probably noticed.

“Do you think the others will be looking for us by now?” you asked softly after a little while.

“Doesn't matter, they won't find us” he grumbled back.

You huffed, “that's not very reassuring”

“Reassurance does nothing”

“Maybe not to you”

“No, not to me”

“Right” he could tell you had rolled your eyes, “you don't get scared, how could I forget”

“I am scared, just not for myself” He snapped, his tone sharp as he glared at you. He was feeling annoyed now, and not in the mood for joking in the slightest.

“What do you mean?”

He scoffed, his tone not matching his sentiment, “I'm scared for you. I don't want anything to happen to you”

You watched him from across the fire, tilting your head, and he had to look away.

“Why aren't you scared for yourself?” you asked.

Crosshair was reluctant to say, but you had no teasing in your tone, and admitting to the truth felt easier knowing that he might not make it out of this cave. He decided that he'd find a way to say what he wanted in as few words as possible.

“Because… if I die, I don't have to live without you”

Your eyes widened slowly, and he watched your mind work around the meaning of the words, the gears turning behind your eyes. He could feel the embarrassment clawing at his throat, begging him to stop speaking forever more. He didn't know why he would have said that, beyond it being true. You didn't need to know, it wouldn't help you, and it certainly didn't help him.

Then, you did something that he didn't expect at all. You rose from your place on the opposite side of the fire slowly, as if not to scare him, not that it worked. His eyes followed you as you made your way around, and retook your seat in the spot right next to him, so close that if he shifted his arm he’d be touching you. Then you put your head on his shoulder, looking into the fire.

“I'm scared for you too” You said quietly.

Crosshair didn’t know what was going on. His heart was beating out of his chest, only just managing to keep a hold of the rhythm of his breath as he watched you from so close. You had never been affectionate with him like this, and he was too plagued by confused thoughts spilling into his brain that he couldn’t fully enjoy it — enjoy the fact that you were in this proximity to him willingly.

“You're too careless with your life, you treat it like it doesn't matter. I don't like it” you spoke up again.

He didn’t know what to say.

“How should I treat it?” he asked quietly, his voice low.

“Like it's precious”

Crosshair took soft breath in automatically, taken aback by the simple admission, by how easily you had said it. He could only find it within himself to deflect the comment,

“It isn't precious, clones are expendable”

You raised your head from his shoulder to give him a stern look, “I know you don't believe that”

He shrugged. He could feel his cheeks scorching and he hated it more than anything. He hoped that the low light would save him from you noticing how your touch made him act. Peering into your eyes as you did to him, searching, your frown softened.

“Your life means a lot to me" you confessed in a whisper. Crosshair’s heart was trying to escape him now, and even more so when your face returned to being serious, “and I wouldn’t want you to risk it for me”

Crosshair matched your frown, drawing his brows together as the dots, the pieces of what you’d said, starting connecting.

“Do you think that's why I would protect you? Because I don't value my own life?” he asked, an irritate edge that made you draw back from him marginally.

“Yeah? I mean, why else…?”

He could have laughed, but instead he shook his head, “that’s not it”

He knew what he wanted to say really, but his mind fought to come up with something else, struggling to find the words to express every unsaid thing in a way that didn’t make him want to curl up in a ball and never speak again.

“It’s— I…” he trailed off, uncertain, “I value your life… more than anyone else’s”

Your eyes widened, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the corners of your lips lifted almost imperceptibly, “what do you mean?”

He rolled his eyes and looked away, “must I explain?”

“I'd like you to” you sounded small, and he looked back over to see that your eyes were wide, shining with hope. It filled him with such an uncommonly warm feeling that he couldn't possibly deny you an answer now.

“I…” he's flicked his eyes across your features, landing on your lips before finding your eyes again and sending you a somewhat pained look, “I can't— I don't know how to—”

You took his hand, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles and leaving goosebumps in your wake, “take your time”

Crosshair sighed, suddenly struck by how poor of an idea this was. He couldn’t help but dwell on the simple fact that you were far too good for him. He didn’t deserve someone like you, and he knew it. You were took kind, too patient, too far superior in emotional maturity and every other thing besides shooting a blaster for that matter. He didn’t believe that perfect people existed, but if there was anyone who reached the closest to those heights, it would be you.

“I… the way I treat you, it's not… right. and it's not a reflection of how I truly feel” he admitted.

You hummed, nodding as you focused your gaze on his palm, drawing shapes with your first finger, “and how do you feel?”

Crosshair was thankful that you weren’t looking at him, and knowing you, it was probably intentional. You knew what he was like, who he really was, and it was as startling as it was comforting. “I feel… a lot. You make me feel a lot”

You smiled, your thumbs tracing over his, “a lot of what?”

An exasperation began creeping on his mind. He knew you understood, you were smart, but you just wanted him to be the one to admit it. He could respect that, however hard he was finding it; you were finally not accepting his half-arsed attempt at affection.

“Happiness” he said finally, “you make me… happy”

Your eyes finally raised to his, giving him a curious look, he felt the need to continue.

“I know that I don't act like it, and I know that I certainly don't make you feel that way, and that you're interested in Hunter, so I'm under no impression that—”

“What?” your head tilted to the side, your expression portraying all of your confusion, “I'm not interested in Hunter”

“Oh” Crosshair sat completely still, just staring at you. He was sure he looked as confused as you did in that moment, but his heart still leapt in his chest all the same, “but… you were sleeping with him…?”

“He was just… I don't know” you sighed, wrapping his hand with yours, “when I had nightmares as a kid it used to help if I slept beside someone else. He noticed I wasn't sleeping well and offered some… comfort, I suppose”

Crosshair nodded, looking away and into the fire anyway, because he knew that Hunter would always be your first choice, and not him, even if it wasn’t in the way he had originally thought.

“But it didn't really help anyway” you said, “I suppose maybe I was sleeping next to the… wrong person?”

When he glanced back to you, there was something more reserved about your demeanour. You were never usually shy, sometimes quiet, but this was something that he hadn’t seen from you before.

“You're right, by the way” you noted, and he raised an eyebrow, “you haven't always made me feel very happy”

He offered a pitiful look, “I'm sorry”

“I know you are, and I don't forgive you for all of it, but I know you, and I know that you don't really mean it. And— well, the reality is…” you rambled out, finally pausing for a breath, or to muster your courage, “you also make me feel alive”

Crosshair’s brows shot up.

The entire atmosphere around the two of you changed, the air between you charged with unspoken words, energy waiting, begging to dissipate. Your free hand reached for his face, and you ran your thumb along the lines of his tattoo that followed his cheekbone. His eyes closed momentarily, a shaky breath leaving his slightly parted lips, and he gave into the moment, focusing on the feel of your fingers caressing his face.

Allowing himself to revel in your touch, appreciate it rather than trying to avoid it, he was ready to crumble into nothing. He could have, and he would have died a happy man, his last moment being in the embrace of your calming presence. Your hand found its place on his jaw, and he opened his eyes once more. He copied you, his hand reaching for your face and taking it tentatively within his grasp. Your skin was soft, ever so soft, and his thumb slid across your cheek with ease.

He felt so vulnerable in that moment, but he just didn’t care anymore. He felt safe with you, and for once he didn’t want to act like a wounded child about his feelings for you. He wanted to show you how strongly he truly felt, the beginnings of making up for the way he had treated you in the past.

Without another second to spare, he tugged on the hand that still clutched his, pulling you towards him, and his lips met yours with an ardency that surprised even him. His arms wrapped around you as he kissed you deeply, holding your body tightly to his, unwilling to let you slip away from him. He was stealing the very air from your lungs, giving you everything he had to offer, and you were taking everything in kind. You were trying your best to keep up, mostly succeeding, but eventually you had to break the kiss, almost gasping for air.

Your breath was heavy against his lips as he kept you in close proximity, and when your eyes met his, a small chuckle left you, bordering on a giggle. He pulled you flush against him, so you rested in his lap, and your face lit up even more. Crosshair felt like he was walking on air, and when you kissed him again, leaning all of your weight into it, he couldn’t help but smile against your lips. The kiss grew more heated gradually, and before he knew it, you were tugging at the blacks you had given him.

He shook his head, pulling away before you could get the wrong impression, “not here”

“Why not?” you frowned playfully, your hands slipping beneath the top and brushing against his skin.

Crosshair growled quietly as you attached your lips to his neck, making his next sentence hard to get out, “because I have more respect for you than to take you on the dirty floor of a cave”

You chuckled against his skin, pulling back to give him a genuine smile, but then it faltered, and he watched a thousand emotions flick across your face in the space of a second. He gripped you tighter, about to ask what was wrong, but you beat him to it with your answer.

“What if this is the only time we have?”

Crosshair knew you meant more than something as fleeting as a shared intimacy, and with the look on your face, he immediacy began to understand why people lied to others in the name of sparing their feelings.

He pushed his forehead into yours gently, “the others will find us”

Your lips turned down in a dubious expression, “but how are they going to get us out?”

For that, he didn’t have an answer. He brought a hand to your face, taking your jaw and hoping his actions brought some comfort, “I don’t know, but I’m not letting you die in here”

“Even you don’t have that power” you huffed.

Even you. The words hung in Crosshair’s mind, front and centre, meaning a lot more to him than you probably realised. It seemed that you were saying, even him, someone who could do almost anything, couldn’t do this. He realised then that you must think a lot more of him than he ever knew, and his heart almost seized up in his chest.

He let a small grin wind it’s way onto his face, “sure I do”

You gave him a lopsided grin, rolling your eyes as you buried your face in his neck, “yeah, yeah. Whatever you say”

As it promised to be, getting out was difficult. The others eventually came for you and Crosshair, by which point he had almost accepted that this was it, that he’d shared his final moments with you. That wasn’t enough anymore, it wasn’t a sufficient amount of time spent with you, and when he heard Hunter call for him, his need to get out was stoked. Tech had found that the rock on the other side of the cavern held a cave system, Wrecker had set a number of charges with a limited blast radius, and they pulled the two of you out from the other side.

But all of it was inconsequential, unimportant in the face of what had happened while you were still trapped. Even more so now that Crosshair held your body tightly to his, his arm wrapped around your waist as the fresh scent of your soap invaded his senses and no doubt began clinging to his bedsheets. He hadn’t let the others ask why he was suddenly being so clingy to you, but something about their smirks and knowing looks told him that he had only been fooling himself in not telling you how he felt.

You laid on his chest, careful not to rest against his wound, which you had treated properly upon returning to the ship. You had insisted it was the first thing you did, before anything else, and he wasn’t going to argue with you then, not when you frowned at him in a way that made his chest tighten. The trade off was that he got to join you in the shower afterwards. It hadn’t taken too much convincing.

Now with you in his arms, your light breath fanning his bare chest, he knew he wasn’t ever going to let you go. He’d spent too long trying to push you away, but now that he had you, you weren’t going anywhere, he’d make sure of it.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @heidnspeak @burningnerdchild @orangez3st @clones-cyare

[gojoidyll]

handholding with death

hades!reader x apothecary!gojo

to make you happy, he would invent god if he had to. and yet, that would probably prove to be difficult since you already were one.

Gojo Satoru, local apothecary and healer, asked for sleep. He asked for a day off. He asked for a single day where he worried about nothing and wasn’t asked to heal anyone or fix anything. Gojo Satoru didn’t ask for death, or, at least, what felt like it. When he opened his eyes, there was darkness, his whole body was lying against cold hard ground, and his clothes were covered in dirt. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was in a cave. But that wouldn’t be right, he had fallen into a water well after all. He closed his eyes as he thought back to the fall.

He was so tired then, but he needed to get water in order to help grind down the new medicinal herbs he had picked just that morning, he could feel it before he registered it. How his hands gripped the ledge of the stone well, how his body tipped, how his body just felt so exhausted. How he thought of sleep – before he felt his body tip forward and into well.

God – what kind of loser falls into a well like that?!

He was glad Suguru wasn’t around to see, but now his body was probably going to rot in that hole while his .. what? Soul? Stays in this forsaken tunnel. He huffed as he stood up and dusted his clothes off. His eyes glancing from wall to wall, to jagged rock to crumbled rock before settling to the dark void in front of him – should he start walking … or …?

He stumbled back when fire began to light along the walls which was when he noticed the torches.

But that wasn’t the only odd thing.

The fire wasn’t orange and red. It was blue. Was that the color of hell fire?! Was he in hell?!

Before he could steal himself and walk down the now lit corridor, a sound stopped him in his tracks. Footsteps echoed lightly and he could tell they were getting closer and closer. He wasn’t a coward, but even he had to admit that he didn’t know what he was about to face in the underworld.

“How odd…”

It was a woman’s voice, smooth and soft.

“It’s been a long time since a living person came down here.”

“Living?”

The woman hummed causing him to straighten his back, so he didn’t die when he fell into the well after all.

“If that’s the case can you tell me where we are? And how I can get back to my apothecary?”

The shadow stayed still for a moment before it turned and started to walk away.

“Hey-“

“Follow, Gojo Satoru.”

He couldn’t bring himself to ask her how she knew his name.

The shadow led him to a throne room, “you are in the underworld,” the shadow finally answered, “and before you is the ruler of the underworld – Lord Hades.”

The shadow bowed, and Gojo looked towards the throne where you sat. Your eyes holding a sense of boredom as you tapped your index finger against the arm of the throne, “lord hades,” you mused, “a title that you mortals came up with, but it isn’t my true name.”

You were listless as you spoke, your eyes focused elsewhere, and Gojo Satoru was speechless. He believed in his fair share of gods and the mystical powers, but to see you before him, right before his eyes. You were beautiful. Truth be told, he always thought the ruler of the underworld was a decrepit old man with a distaste for the living. Instead, he sees you, a goddess still in her youth.

“Will you grace me with your true name,” he didn’t know what he was asking, what he was even requesting when the words fell from his lips, but as he looked at you – his heart seizing in his chest, he found himself asking before he could even stop himself.

And then, you finally looked at him, lips slightly parted as your eyes widened at his request, almost as if you were surprised that he was even asking such a thing.

“And what will you do with it once I give it to you?”

“Hopefully, you will allow me to say it.”

You stopped tapping your finger against the cold stone as you stood up from your throne and descended the steps before you were before him. He was taller than you expected. You watched him carefully – you waited for his true intentions to curl around his shadow and sprout his truths and desires.

But instead all you got was the soft sound of

“she’s beautiful”

Never have you met a human so pure… if not a little perverted and carefree.

You gave him your name, the syllables leaving your lips with each pronunciation, and then you watched. You watched as he took in your name, thought over it, committed it to memory before rolling your name off of his tongue.

He called to you, you name leaving his mouth with an enticing curl as he bowed his head, “it’s nice to meet you ruler of the underworld. I’m Gojo Satoru, I own an apothecary and I’m a terribly good medic – are you perhaps in need of any medical services?”

He reached for your hand, it was so warm where he thought it would be cold, and brought it to his lips as he kissed your knuckles.

“What god of death needs a healer?”

“You, maybe.”

“Maybe.”

[loveissupernatural]

Hicctooth Rant 🩷

I started watching the How to Train Your Dragon movies again and have even gotten into the series this time around (childhood nostalgia 🩷) and dammit if Toothless and Hiccup’s beautiful relationship doesn’t make me cry like a baby!

I was also reminded of how heartbreaking the ending of THW was and started digging into post-epilogue information. Because my fragile little heart couldn’t take the idea that Hiccup and Toothless didn’t visit post-epilogue.

Besides the fact that all previous HTTYD movies, shorts, and series established how deep and unbreakable their bond was, so it wouldn’t be logical for them to have this emotional reunion and that be “the end” - I mean, why would they introduce their families to one another just to go “Yeah, I know that was amazing - sorry, peace out” - but from a logical standpoint, Toothless’s tail prosthetic is going to need maintenance. They don’t make prosthetics today that last a *human* lifetime, so it wouldn’t make sense to assume that Toothless’s would last potentially hundreds of years with Viking technology. Sure, it’s fireproof now, but there’s still gears, mechanical elements, etc. that will be exposed to all kinds of environments and wear and tear. Hiccup is constantly remaking and improving Toothless’s tail fins throughout the series and movies.

Hiccup even mentions in the epilogue “How’s the tail holding up? Need any oil, some fine-tuning?” If that thing breaks, Toothless, as alpha and protector of not only his family, but the Hidden World, is screwed. A downed dragon is a dead dragon.

I love that with the release of the holiday special “HTTYD: Homecoming”, we see that even a decade after they parted ways, they still miss each other. Toothless drawing Hiccup in the sand, then Berk, then himself, and drawing a line from himself to Hiccup - it was beautiful. And so in-character for their relationship 🩷 And Hiccup building a mechanical Toothless costume that breathes fire and is so hard to function in that he falls off a cliff and Toothless saves him? Oh my heart ATE IT UP!

Toothless never saw bearded Hiccup, but he could hear and smell him, and was licking and cuddling that suit 🥺 Oh the “almost” of it all killed me, but it had to make sense with the epilogue. Toothless seeing Hiccup’s daughter and going goo-goo over her immediately melted my heart. His eyes were shining!

I’m glad that Hiccup saw Toothless and family flying away, and called out, so he knew they were indeed there. Then Astrid saying “maybe it’s our turn to visit them”. Oh I just love all of the implications!

Then “Snoggletog Log” - Toothless and his whole family in Hiccup and Astrid’s house for the holidays? SIGN ME TF UP! I’d like to think this was the Snoggletog after the epilogue. I think there’s evidence for this too, if you look at the size of Toothless’s babies. When Hiccup goes to carry off a sleeping baby, from head to tail, it looks longer than they did in “Homecoming”.

Then comes the newest piece of media - “Dragons: The Nine Realms”. I haven’t watched it because the animation looks horrifically baby-ish, but I did try to see what was mentioned about Hiccup/Toothless/etc. They found a cave painting in the Hidden World of Toothless with Hiccup and his family (inside the cave where the Night Lights, Toothless’s descendants, stay) and they also found Hiccup’s artificial leg, a working desk, books, etc. So at some point, our boys came back together and explored the Hidden World (can we get content on this please??)

There’s even a story in the book that Hiccup wrote about he and Toothless (and likely the other dragon riders, because that cage was huge) working together to build a cage and trap this enormous apex predator Snake-like creature - which was eating dragons whole. Apparently it’s the whole reason dragons are afraid of eels. The lock mechanism could only be unlocked by a fury with retractable teeth. Hiccup even used his mom’s staff to lure it into the cage. I loved this detail. Then the book illustration shows us a close-up of a bearded Hiccup and Toothless touching noses, and then their silhouettes watching the cage from far away. Also, all of Hiccup’s artifacts having a Night Fury on them? My heart!

There are mixed opinions on what’s “canon” and what’s not - in my opinion, if DreamWorks released it and said it’s in the HTTYD universe, then it’s canon (they own the ip). “Homecoming” and the HTTYD 3 epilogue strongly hinted at Hiccup and Toothless returning to each others’ lives in some capacity, even if it’s only occasional visits. It lines up much more with their relationship than the alternative (I’m looking at you, Dean - I fully believe he just wanted everyone to be as sad as humanly possible even though the character behaviors he’d established thus far didn’t align with the ending he was determined to have).

A lot of people feel that way, and it cracks me up that DreamWorks appears to agree. Everything they’ve released after HTTYD 3 is encouraging the idea of a post-epilogue relationship between the families. Then 9 Realms releases and we get official confirmation that Toothless and Hiccup kept having adventures, and being in each others’ lives, and it just made my little heart glow. Because THAT aligns with the “we are stronger together, our love can endure anything” message that all HTTYD content was about (until the end of THW🙄).

I’m so glad they came back together. It just makes sense for the characters and the strong relationship they built between them. I’d really love a movie or series explaining why Hiccup had to go down to the Hidden World again - did Toothless come ask for his help? How soon was this after the epilogue? How long did they stay down there, who was with them, and what all did they have to do? Did Hiccup and Toothless stay together until the end? I have a headcanon of them exploring Valhalla together 😭

[googleitlol]

Sooooooooo @rovobeam and I have been cooking up this lmk au we've been calling the False Hero AU. It spawned from the question of what would have happened if Macaque never died during his fight with Wukong. What if he had won and sealed Wukong away under his own mountain?

The answer: Wukong never gets to be happy :D

There's a few things we've talked about, ocs we have for the au, and so I thought I'd share a lil smth I wrote.

Rain soaked the ground and the crackles of thunder accompanied lightning that briefly illuminated the gorgeous mountainside. Without the storm’s vicious light, it’s beauty was cast in the shadow of night. It mattered not, even in the darkness, the ochre-furred simian knew where to go.

Sun Wukong breathed heavily as he marched up the trail to his home. He pulled at wisteria and moss that had buried itself into his head and stubbornly refused to unroot itself. Some of his own hair came out in the process, but he could care less at the moment. He could only remember one other time he had felt this restless concoction of energy and exhaustion.

He’d nearly given up hope that he would ever get out from under that painful burden. He’d gotten so used to the weight of his own mountain that when it suddenly lifted, he could hardly believe it. He had to destroy part of the mountain to free himself, sure, but the structure of the prison built into his own home didn’t concern him when it came to his freedom. Now, all he cared about was making it past the waterfall, seeing his people again– gods, how he missed the comforts of his home. The warmth of a fire, someplace to stay dry and out of the elements that clung to his hair and dripped to the muddy ground, the softness of a blanket that could comfort much more than the stone that encased his body, he had almost forgotten what they felt like. Once he was back in the security of his home beyond the waterfall, he could regain his strength and take care of the one who locked him away in the first place.

That traitor deserved more than what he did to his eye. The thought that Macaque would put him in the same prison the celestial realm did– he can feel his anger seething under his skin over the notion. It was lucky that his old friend-turned-enemy slipped up, why else would he be free now? Nevertheless, he’d finish what he started.

The world needs to know the Monkey King was back.

Wukong huffs slightly as he hikes up Flower Fruit Mountain, his tunnel vision fading as he noticed a small monkey further up the path. The sight of another made his face light up, how long had it been since he’d seen one of his subjects? Not an unseen bird mocking him with its song, nor a centipede crawling over his face– it was one of his own.

There’s more pep in his stride as he approaches the young monkey. He didn’t recognize her as one of his older monkeys he’d saved from mortality, but perhaps she was a young descendant. “Hey there, bud. It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of you…”

The young monkey jumped once she saw him, and before he could get any closer, she was running up the closest tree to hide amongst the leaves. “…guys?” Wukong frowned, put off by her reaction. He wasn’t used to having his people run from him, but then again, he hadn’t recognized her. Maybe she didn’t recognize her king, it has been many years after all.

Unfortunately, the king’s confusion only grew the more of his subjects he came across. The further he pushed up the mountain, the more it happened. He had no clue what was wrong. Sure, he smells right now, he hadn’t had the opportunity to take a proper bath in forever! He can’t stink that bad, right? Actually, it felt better to believe it was his hygiene, why else would they all be avoiding him like this. Unless another demon king had decided to claim his land, or hunters were terrorizing his monkeys again, wouldn’t they all be overjoyed to see their king after so long?

When Wukong finally made it to Water-Curtain Cave, he expected to find it not all that different than when he’d left it, but that would be wishful thinking. Instead, what he found shook the sage to his core. If his immortalities didn’t keep his heart from giving out, it certainly would have as he studied the murals that defaced his home. They show himself and his friends– twisted versions of their adventures and events that hadn’t been there before when he last visited the cave.

His heart sunk as he stumbled further into the cave, leaving behind a trail of the water that had soaked him to the bone. The murals continued on the walls, his friends disappearing one by one until he became all that was left– they never finished the pilgrimage without him, they failed. He failed them.

Hot tears pricked his eyes, grief threatening to swallow Wukong whole. Not one of them made it. His brothers, his master… they were all gone. He couldn’t protect them. All that stood, with their blood on his hands, was a reflection of himself.

It made no sense! How could this have happened?! He’d been sealed away, why would he be in these murals with them? They couldn’t be real, it was all lies! What made them worse was how he was depicted in each one, each interpretation of him more demonic than the last. Some even showed himself in his monstrous three-headed form, destroying settlements and uprooting villages. Several questions drowned one another out in his mind, but one stayed afloat among the raging storm of confusion and heartache. What happened?!

Wukong pushed further into the cave, determined to find a semblance of an answer. Instead, he was only confronted with more questions by the house he finds where his stone palace once resided. The rain from the storm came down through the large opening above and tapped against the roof of the strange home. It looked nothing like the smaller houses of commoners who gathered in those human villages, but it wasn’t as large or elaborate as the palaces and grand estates of the wealthy he’d seen during his journey. Who the hell could have made this? Who could have settled here while he was gone?! The entrance was still protected, allowing only his monkeys and their king passage into his home.

Now with the possibility of another being inside, the sage approached the home with caution. He walked past the large stone that held bittersweet memories of himself and the person he thought he could trust, and entered the house without any trouble.

Inside the home was even more confusing than its exterior. Its decor appeared foreign to Sun Wukong, his years under his rocky home doing no favours in regards of understanding this new era of life. He had no clue what the reflective black screen on the wall to his left was, nor why so many cushioned seats and chairs were turned towards it. The small paintings behind glass that sat on the walls and various furniture in the halls were remarkably detailed, he’d never seen anything like them! It was as though the painter had trapped the very souls of their subjects on paper. The one room that he had any hint of recognition for was what looked to be a possible dojo. A rack of weapons lined one of its walls, strange mats laid on its centre with dummies sitting by another wall.

What took Wukong’s attention the most were the strangers in those paintings. He took note of a young man wearing a bandana, a woman with green in her hair often accompanying him. Some of the paintings portray them in what appears to be a kitchen with a chef that bore a painful resemblance to Zhu Bajie. In one picture, he saw the chef shouting at another that looked strikingly similar to his master. Another painting put these people on the seaside with another familiar face, one that looked too much like Wukong’s youngest brother, Sha Wujing.

The kid in the bandana appeared to be in most of the paintings Wukong saw, some showed him with another young man with white hair and purple eyes in what looked to be a strange indoor market. There were other paintings with a short curly haired woman wearing a brown jacket. With them was a young boy that bears resemblance to her, though he wore a shirt that matched the man with the bandana. They both wear a symbol on their shirt of a monkey with a wide smile, a scar adorning its right eye.

The longer he observed each of the paintings, the more his confusion and anger grew. Of all the people on those walls, only one made it clear who this house belonged to. The white-furred simian that locked him away appeared in a handful of the paintings, smiling and apparently playful with many of the strangers depicted with him. Seeing him laugh with these people made Wukong’s stomach twist painfully. Everything he saw, it all felt wrong, none of this was right!

“Welcome home, Bud.”

Wukong’s head snapped to the voice, down the end of the hallway he stood in. Making his way down the rest of the hallway led him to its owner, his jailor. In the middle of a gathering area, in a cushioned chair he sat on like a throne with his staff leaning against it, Macaque faced him with a lazy smirk. His elbow propped himself up against the chair’s armrest, his head resting in his hand with one leg crossed over the other. He no longer kept his fur dark, but his extra ears remained hidden. Despite that, the warrior didn’t bother hiding what Wukong had done to his eye. “You gave my subjects quite the scare with the mess you made when you broke out.”

“Your subjects?!” The sage hissed, barely able to hold back his anger. The sheer gall, did he have a death wish?! Those were his people!

Macaque didn’t seem all that phased by his hostility, and uncrossed his leg to stand, picking up his staff as he did. “Of course. This is my mountain, after all.”

“Like hell it is!” Wukong growled, his fist clenching as Macaque moved to circle him slowly.

“Look around for yourself.” He hummed, gesturing to the home he built over what once belonged to Wukong. He narrowed his eyes at the sage’s circlet as he spoke, a grin showing his canines. “You may be wearing your… crown… but Flower Fruit Mountain has been doing quite well for itself with its new Monkey King.”

That sent him over the edge. Red clouding over his vision, Wukong lunged at the demon he once shared his home with. Macaque was ready for the attack, blocking the sage’s fist with his staff. “Hohoho! A couple hundred years under another mountain didn’t calm you down at all, did it?” He laughed, pushing his attacker back before charging after him to strike.

The two sent each other flying with every collision, their strikes so swift no human eye would be able to process them. Between transformations of hawks and snakes, claws and jaws, they sent each other flying through walls and grappling on the ground before taking off into the sky through the opening above the cave.

Amidst the rainfall and strikes of lightning, Macaque pinned Sun Wukong against the muddy ground with his staff, the simian hissing a whisper through gritted teeth. “You should have stayed buried under the mountain.”

Wukong glared at the warrior, shouting out in a rage before kicking him off and jumping back to his feet. They continued to clash, their clones colliding with one another and vanishing before Wukong was able to throw Macaque to the ground. The light-furred simian looked up to see his other half hurtling down towards him and tried falling into a shadow-portal, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Sun Wukong grabbed him just before he could get away, lifting him into the air by his throat. His nails dug into his skin, allowing no room for breath. “To think I thought of sparing you then.” He snarled, his teeth fully bared and his glare burning hotter than the sun itself. “I should take your other eye–!”

Macaque’s eyes widened as Wukong raised his fist, but before he could land the hit, something cold and metallic swung into the sage’s side. He dropped the simian in surprise, the blow sending him flying. Wukong hit the ground with a thud, his ribs cried out in pain as he laid there, stunned. He let out a shout in pain once he managed to sit up, and when he managed to see whoever had come to Macaque’s aid, he froze.

“Are you okay, Monkey King?” It was the young man from the paintings, the one with the bandana. Wukong’s eyes went wide as he heard him, the kid reaching down to help the traitor up. A pit opened up in his stomach hearing someone call him that, it wasn’t Macaque's name– it was his!

The pit in his stomach grew wider as he saw that the kid wielded a staff– not just any, but his own. There were spikes encircling the ends now like Macaque’s own staff, but Wukong could recognize his own weapon. He’d wielded it in more battles he could count– it was unmistakably his own! How did this kid have the power to lift it? Who was he?!

Macaque coughed as the boy helped him rise to his feet, and he reached up to massage his throat before giving him a warm smile. “I’m alright, kid.” He reassured him before looking back to Wukong, the warmth his eyes held for the young man vanishing the second Wukong fell under his gaze.

The kid followed his line of sight before stepping forward. He shot Wukong an angered glare before readying his own staff against him. “Stay back!”

Wukong could hardly believe the sight before him. “What? No, no– this isn’t what it looks like, I’m not the bad guy here!”

“I know exactly who you are, Corrupt Sage.” He hissed, the name sending a pang through Wukong’s chest, his heart shattering. Gods, this was all wrong!

From behind the kid, he could see Macaque watching, the smug bastard stared him down with a grin. Thunder crackled through the sky as Wukong glared at his once sworn brother, his fist clenched so hard, his nails threatened to break skin. Outrage boiled in his veins, but there was nothing he could do with it. Even with his adrenaline racing, he felt beyond tired. Even if he could finish Macaque off in his current state, his little friend would get in the way and Wukong had no clue how powerful the kid really was. If he could lift his staff, he must be strong enough to pose a challenge.

Taking on the both of them could result in Wukong getting sealed away again, and he couldn’t depend on whatever dumb luck he had to free him from his rocky prison a second time. With a frustrated shout, the sage turned on his heel and leapt into the sky.

Everything had all become so wrong. Macaque had his story so twisted and mangled– is this how the world saw him? Those murals, the hate in that man’s eyes, even the fear on the faces of his monkey subjects! It made his skin crawl. How could the world forget who he really was? He had to fix this. Wukong refused to live in a world where nobody knew who Macaque really was, who he really was!

That monster took everything. His home, his people, his legacy– but Wukong was going to get it back.

[toonedupfiction]

There You Are

I have posted this picture before but wanted to share some writing for context. This was drawn to go with a Chapter 9 of Legacy Disowned Book 2 that was all in Sebastian's POV. The bit below is a fresh piece I wrote that is the same chapter but through Maggie Darling's POV. Maybe a tad spoilery, but I prefer to think of it as sneak-peaky:

Maggie followed Garreth through the winding tunnels of Jackdaw’s tomb back towards the main cavern where the Halloween party was still in full swing. The white ears and fluffy tail of her “rabbit” costume bounced with each of her hurried steps. Despite her rather intense moment with Vincent Burke being interrupted, she was glad that Garreth had been able to find her. Apparently Sebastian had downed a dangerous amount of one of the self proclaimed potion geniuses' concoctions and would be descending into mind shredding hallucinations at any moment.

Sure enough, when Garreth led her around the potions table where Sebastian was sitting, she found him staring at his hands as if he had never seen them before and was trying to determine where they had come from. 

"Oh thank goodness," Samantha Dale sighed with relief from where she had been waiting beside him. Her voice seemed to pull his concentration from his hands and his brown eyes met Maggie’s.

Fuck.

He looked utterly terrified. She needed to get them out of here. "How long we got?" Maggie asked Garreth as Sebastian averted his gaze, a shameful red flush creeping up his face.

"Well," Garreth said, "it builds up pretty slow, it may have already started but it wont reach a point of being too debilitating until about twenty minutes in, at that point you'll want to be somewhere safe. The height of the effects shouldn't last too long, and after that it should mellow out... it's just getting over that peak." 

Maggie nodded, she knew what to do. "Do you have more?" 

He showed her the remaining vials and she took one. "Darling," Garreth said uncertainly, "I don't think there is time for an antidote." 

She ignored this and bent down offering Sebastian a hand. "Come on now, no need to lose your head." 

It took Sebastian a long time to finally take her hand. He looked so anxious and uncertain, and Garreth and Samantha gawking certainly didn’t seem to be helping. But Maggie was determined, she would get him out of here and away from all these prying eyes. Without sparing the others another glance, she began leading him through the crowds, passing right by the floo bonfire at the center of the cavern. It would do no good to take him back to the castle. No, Maggie knew just the place. Somewhere quiet, and peaceful, a memory from a truly pleasant day.

Sebastian remained silent for the entire trek up and away from the noise of the party to the swirling pattern carved into the stone wall that marked the cave’s hidden entrance. 

"Intra muros," she said confidently, and the stone swirl began to grind against itself, spiralling open to reveal the vivid blue portal, cool mist cascading from its depths. 

Sebastian stared at it as if trying to decide if it was real or not and Maggie couldn’t help but grin at the look on his face. "Come on," she said before stepping into the void, her fluffy rabbit's tail being the last thing to vanish into the mist before she emerged into the fresh night air on the other side. 

A moment later, Sebastian followed, blinking as he adjusted to the sudden change in atmosphere. She watched as his eyes filled with awe, taking in the enchanting little clearing, lightning bugs hovering all around them and over the pond, their luminous bodies reflected on the water’s still surface. 

"Better?" Maggie asked, smiling as she watched the calm settle over her friend’s features. 

He looked down at her, and though he nodded, she saw something strangely bittersweet in his eyes. It made her feel… something she couldn't quite name. It made her nervous.

"I–I'm sorry you had to—" he stammered, and she couldn’t help but laugh. Was that really what he was so worried about? Ruining her night? 

"Don't be," she said brightly, flashing him a smirk before uncorking her vial and downing its contents without a second thought. Like hell she was going to let him feel like he was all on his own. "Now we can have our own fun." 

Sebastian stared at her, his mouth hanging open in shock. "Are— are you sure that was a good idea?" 

"Nope," she laughed. "That's half the fun! —and besides, now you won't have to go through this alone." 

That bittersweet look filled Sebastian’s eyes again, but Maggie wasn’t going to let all these strange, unidentified emotions make him feel bad. They were going to have an amazing fantastical night together.

"Now," she declared, clapping her hands, "we should probably get out of the forest full of dangerous creatures before this stuff kicks in." And with that, she grabbed his hand and skipped into the darkness, pulling him along with her. 

As she led him through the twisting earthen paths, she could sense the potion slowly starting to take effect. Everything was beginning to take on a bizarre kind of shine, like the old knotted trunks and fluttering foliage were becoming oddly… juicy.

They burst out of the thickness of trees into unfiltered moonlight and she heard Sebastian gasp behind her. Maggie couldn't blame him. The entire landscape was positively shimmering with life. Having taken the potion so much earlier than her, she could only imagine what he must be seeing at this point. 

She felt him stumble as they crossed the old wooden bridge leading out of the forest, and gripped his hand tighter, pulling him through the twisted wooden arch, determined to get him to safety as soon as possible. They were met with the imposing silhouette of the castle, set starkly against the night sky, the shimmering surface of the black lake laid out below. They had made it to the Road to Hogsmeade.

Maggie veered right, towards her chosen destination. She knew he had visited the place plenty before they knew each other. But that had been such a fun day, surely he would only be able to think of pleasant things, and of course, it would look pretty—

Sebastian came to an abrupt halt, stopping them in their tracks. "Darling,” his tremulous voice came from behind her, “Am I...special to you?" 

Maggie turned to look at him, utterly bewildered. Was he special to her? It seemed like such an absurd question. Of course he was—

Sebastian’s hand abruptly wrenched from hers as his hands flew to tangle in his hair, his eyes going wide with horror. 

She was too late.

Sebastian was looking around in every direction, on the verge of tearing his own hair out as he jumped and shuddered at something unseen. “I didn’t want to,” he muttered frantically. “But I did, I did want to— I did hurt her—”

“Sebastian!” Maggie said desperately, rushing forward to tug at his arm, to pull him to the safe space. She called his name again and again, trying to snap him out of it, but it was no good. He wouldn’t budge and she was running out of time. The edges of her own vision were starting to dance like tongues of fire. She needed to find some way to get him to where they needed to be before she followed him into madness.

With an effort that wrenched at her heart, she forced herself to release him and sprint down the path till the place was in sight. She turned, pulling out and spinning her wand in her hand as she cried, “Accio!”

Maggie knew the sensation of being ripped through space was probably not the best thing for Sebastian right now, but it was all she could think to do. He came flailing towards her where she caught him, sort of. He more careened into her, knocking the rabbit ears right off her head as they both stumbled to their knees. He was murmuring incoherent apologies as she pulled him around to face her, but he’d suddenly squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body racking with sobs.

Sebastian!” she tried again hopelessly, gripping his arm tighter, trying to ground him, to bring him back. One of his eyes peered open at her, and she bore her own into it, willing him to stay with her, but then it squeezed shut once more, his head shaking emphatically as if trying to ward off the unseen vision.

Maggie grit her teeth, forcing them both to their feet and dragging him with all the might she could muster without hurting him. Finally, she managed to get them behind the stone wall where she let them both collapse to the soft grass, nestled between two bushes full of lacewing flies. Tears and sweat were streaming down Sebastian's face as she laid him down, resting his head in her lap. 

The words he was muttering to himself were completely unintelligible now, and the pained look contorting his usually easy features made her chest ache unbearably. Whatever he was seeing behind his eyelids was hurting him, horribly. 

"Sebastian!" she practically sobbed. "Open your eyes!" 

He did. 

It was almost funny how quickly his expression shifted. All the distress and fear evaporating in an instant, replaced with a look of wide eyed awe and wonder.

Maggie felt a wave of relief so powerful wash over her she thought she might melt straight into the ground. "There you are," she sighed breathlessly.

"There you are,'' Sebastian replied, a delightfully familiar inflection to his voice. 

Maggie couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. He was himself again. She smiled warmly as she watched him go cross-eyed to look at a lacewing fly that had landed on his nose. She’d known this place would be perfect. The same little patch that he’d shown her the day they met.

Then, without warning, Sebastian started laughing, a full, genuine laughter that seemed to have a life of its own. 

"What's so funny," Maggie giggled, looking down at him in bewilderment. 

"I don't know," he replied breathlessly. 

Maggie felt her smile begin to slip, she was glad that he was ok, but just what kind of horrors had he just lived through? "I'm sorry I didn't get you here sooner," she almost whispered. 

Sebastian’s eyes softened. "I don't think it would have mattered where we were," he said gently, and she hated herself for taking solace in it. They were here, in this beautiful safe place, but she’d meant to get him here for the worst of it, and now she was starting to feel nervous for herself. The lacewing flies around them were starting to blur into something more like stars than insects and Maggie felt an odd sense of teetering on the edge of something. 

"I think I might be getting there soon too," she admitted, her voice quavering shamefully, but Sebastian didn’t miss a beat. Lifting his head from her lap, he shifted over, making a space for her to fill. 

Unable to deny the offer of comfort, Maggie snuggled up to him as his arm moved around to nestle her in the crook of his shoulder. With a wave of her wand, she conjured a big, fluffy, down filled blanket that momentarily blocked out the sky before settling over them. 

It was rather nice. 

The stars in the sky and the stars fluttering all around. That ever present iridescent blue light that had always shimmered through everything seemed to be breathing gently along with the two of them. She let her eyes begin to follow the pathways it carved, beautiful dancing spirals that wove their way across the fabric of Sebastian’s shirt, through the leaves of the bushes surrounding them and the dancing lacewing stars and up into the ether. 

Maggie gasped as her eyes took in the heavens. That beautiful, primal, ancient magic was revealing itself to her more clearly than it ever had, flowing out in every direction, spiralling in and back out onto itself in infinite fractals that seemed to web their way out into… everything. 

She could somehow see it moving through all things all at once. Through castle halls and the sound of laughter. Through ribbons of crimson in water. Through shimmering feathers and lightning raining from the sky. Through aspen leaves fluttering in the wind. Through the dust kicked up by sun stitched boots. Through leathery black wings under moonlight. Through eyes the colour of the sky before a tornado. Through the silhouette of a dark figure hovering above. Through an all too familiar archway on a pond with no ripples…

Was she here again? Wait… Had she been here before? Or was this the first time… again?

The arch ahead of her positively thrummed with that iridescent blue light more strongly than anything else ever had. It seemed to sing to her, beckoning her beyond to what she knew deep in her soul was the single greatest adventure that any living being would ever take. Her heart was racing with fear or excitement? She couldn't tell. It didn’t matter

She took a step forward. But then a voice… or perhaps voices… or perhaps her own thoughts seemed to echo across her very existence.

“Don’t go!”

Don’t go? But why? She was here. Whatever lay beyond that arch and at the end of that infinit flow of light was just ahead of her to discover. What possible reason could there be not to go?

But then suddenly she became aware of warmth and she could smell something… familiar. Like foresty cedar and evergreen soap mingled with… homework? Or perhaps… Hogwarts? That wasn't quite right…  It spoke of old books and sitting by the common room fireplace, complemented with a subtle hint of green apples. 

Whatever it was it made her feel… something unfamiliar to her. Something that made her think that perhaps she could hold off on going just yet. Perhaps that adventure on the other side of the arch could wait. As if that mere thought had flipped a switch, she blinked, and the archway, and the pond with no ripples were gone.

She was staring up at the night sky once more in a comfortable bed made of starlight and she let out a breath she hadn't been aware that she’d been holding. Then, as if drawn by a magnet, her eyes found the source of that warmth, and that familiar scent.

Sebastian.

"There you are," he said, smirking down at her, his warm brown eyes full of fondness. 

Maggie laughed. She couldn’t help it, despite the fact she wasn’t entirely sure what it was she thought was funny. All she knew was that she was so very happy that he was here.

"Before it hit you," she breathed, finally catching her breath. "You asked if you were special to me." She saw Sebastian's face fall slightly, so she hurried to continue. "Do you remember that day you took me into Hogsmeade?" 

"Uh— Of course," he said slowly. 

"Did you know that Professor Weasley let me choose who I wanted to go with?" 

Sebastian blinked in surprise.

"I know it's silly, but—" Maggie spoke softly, recalling the way that strange emotion had bloomed within her when Professor Weasley had offered her that simple, yet profound, new freedom. 

"I remember once,” she began quietly, “when I was young we stayed at this inn next to a school house. I remember watching the kids out the window, they had drawn these boxes into the dirt and were hopping from one to the other… I couldn't make sense of it." a soft chuckle escaped her. "It seemed such a frivolous thing. But... I found myself wondering what it might be like... to introduce myself, to— to see if maybe... they might be willing to teach me how to play..." 

Maggie had to pause for a moment as something uncomfortable seemed to squeeze at her heart, the bittersweet memory suddenly giving way to more recent ones… like the first time coming to this place… and even before that— when the boy now laying beside her had told her about the book he’d been reading. 

From the very beginning, Sebastian had been so willing to teach her… Inviting her to his illicit dueling club, showing her useful spells, even trusting her with his secret hideout. Why did thinking about it all at once make her chest hurt like this? But she swallowed that question down. She musn't cry. 

"You are very special to me Sebastian." She said looking up at him, willing him to understand this thing that she didn’t quite understand herself. "You are the first person that I ever got to choose for myself."

He didn’t speak, instead he just pulled her closer and she allowed herself to melt into that warmth and that scent that was so inexplicably comforting, but then Sebastian suddenly stiffened.

"I–I didn't mean to— to say that out loud—" he stammered, his face practically glowing red and she could feel his heart thundering against her. 

"Say what out loud?" she asked, tilting her head curiously. 

"I– nothing! Nevermind," he said quickly. Then he seemed to relax and let out a nervous chuckle. 

She giggled in response. He was so weird. 

Sebastian’s laughter redoubled and then they were both just laughing, the sound making the lacewing stars dance around them. She wasn’t entirely sure why they were laughing or even if they were laughing at the same thing— but it didn’t matter. It felt good. Finally, the gasps of them trying to catch their breath settled into contented sighs. 

"Do you want to go back to the party?" Sebastian asked half heartedly. 

"No," Maggie sighed. "I don't know about you, but I feel a bit—" her words were cut off by a yawn. Normally, she would never let herself do something so foolish as fall asleep in a place as exposed as this, but it was so nice here, and she felt so comfortable she could feel her eyelids growing heavy. And before she knew it, she was drifting off into an indescribably sound and peaceful slumber. Legacy Disowned

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's Slasher Fictober Day 7: The Lost Boys x Reader (Poly) (Apple Cider)

And with that the first week of Fictober is over with! I hope you've all enjoyed the first 7 fics of this wonderful month and I hope you all stick around to enjoy the rest <3

Notes: Minors DNI, This one still isn't smut but do stay tuned for later in Fictober (wink wink). No pronouns or descriptions of reader used. This is a poly relationship fic so if you aren't into it this isn't the fic for you. (Not my gif but i loved it too much not to use) I used a lot of creative liberties in this so if it doesn't seem 100 percent canon that's why.

Fic specific notes: Star doesn't exist in this neither does Laddie.

Rays of the light from the moon were peaking through the clouds as the coolness of the nighttime descended on Santa Clara. You had been awake for a couple hours and knew once the night came the boys would be ready to proceed with what you had promised them a year ago on the dot.

A year ago to the day was when David first brought it up.

"Become one of us" He rasped at you one night after a night out at the boardwalk.

At first you hadn't thought you heard him correctly, One of them? There was no way he meant a vampire? could he? Marko butted in before you could ask him.

"Yeah c'mon babe, You've been with us almost two years now we want you to be with us forever" You glanced at Paul and Dwayne and they both smirked and nodded.

You told the four that night that you wanted nothing more then to be one of them and be with them forever, but you needed time to process what that would mean for you. You promised them if they waited a full year you would drink the blood and become theirs forever. The past year had flown by and in reality felt like you had only had a week to process.

One by one you could hear the boys wake deeper into the cave and one by one in that order they emerged into the main room where you rested behind the sheer curtains that surrounded the bed.

Marko, Dwayne and Paul as usual entered first but as on any other day they stalled back waiting for David. David entered the main room a few minutes later fully dressed in his normal gloves and trench coat and approached your bed slowly and casually. He used a gloved hand to pull one of the curtains away from the bed and leaned over you with his other hand at the side of your face on the bed.

"Darling, I think you know what time it is" You opened your eyes to look up at one of the men you had promised yourself too a year ago but had been with for 3.

"Doesn't max have to be here?" you asked, you knew the answer was no but you still wanted to stall for as long as possible. David fixed you with an unamused look.

"Of course not doll, But you knew the answer to that, C'mon let's get you up and ready we have all night but we'd like to go to the boardwalk at some point" David said grabbing your hand and helping you sit up.

You noticed the other 3 had disappeared off somewhere probably to get a few things in order for you after you drink the blood. You placed your feet on the side of the bed and stood up pulling the shawl you were sleeping in tighter around you as the chill of Santa Clara night hit you like a truck.

"You're nervous" David stated, You turned to look at him and he chuckled a bit.

"The nerves are rolling off you like waves" He continued "Though I'm not sure why, You aren't second guessing this are you?" He asked you incredulously, You swiftly shook your head.

"Of course not David, that isn't it at all" He still stood next to the bed staring at you, you sighed.

"It's just, I don't know. What if the blood doesn't take or something, what if it goes wrong and makes me sick or something. I want to be with you guys forever but I'm so scared David" His face soften and he brought a gloved hand to your chin to bring your eyes to his.

"My love Max explained to you the worst things that can happen, Even if the blood doesn't take at first me and the boys are prepared for any situation. Even if something goes wrong we aren't going to let you get hurt, you just have to trust us darling" You sniffled with unshed tears in your eyes. David had a soft side but it was rare that he showed it.

Dwayne entered the room and fixed you with a worried look before turning to David.

"Everything is ready if you are David, Is everything ok?" Dwayne asked. You nodded and smiled at him.

"I'm fine hun. Just got a little nervous" You said wrapping your arms around Dwayne's middle, he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead.

"Well I guess that settles it then Dwayne, tell Marko and Paul that we're ready" Paul turned to leave and you grabbed his hand into yours and followed, David coming behind the two of you into the section of the cave where David's makeshift throne sat.

Marko and Paul had matching grins upon seeing you and you knew they were just as excited and anxious as Dwayne and David were even if Dwayne and David were better at their poker faces then the younger two vampires.

David stepped away from the group to walk up to the throne and grab the bottle that held the blood. Marko and Paul came up and wrapped their arms around you seemingly keeping you in place in case. Marko leaned over to your ear while David got the blood ready.

"Once you start drinking don't stop until David tells you, you might faint or pass out but me and Paul got you. If you do you'll wake up in an hour or two and we'll all take care of you till your fully turned" You nodded at him and gave him a small smile to try and show you weren't nervous.

David stepped forward and held out the encrusted wine bottle to you.

"Here Darling, Let's get this show on the road" He uncorked the bottle and handed it to you.

"Like Marko said, Don't stop drinking until I tell you too ok?" You nodded bringing the bottle up to your lips and with a final nod from David you took mouth full of the blood.

The metallic taste was sharp as the cold liquid made it's way over your tongue and down your throat as you swallowed the first mouth full of blood. Without any indication from David you took another drink followed by another. After the fourth mouth full you were feeling lightheaded.

"That's good enough" David said gripping the bottle and gently taking it from your hand. You let him take the bottle as you stumbled lightly. Your head was swimming in a way you had never experienced before, your vision was blurry.

Marko and Paul tried their best to steady you as you stumbled back and forth between the two of them like a ping pong ball.

"Get to the bed Marko" You heard David command before your world went black.

================================================

Two hours and some change later you awoke again. You were having the most weirdest vivid dreams before you woke up in a cold sweat sitting straight up in bed.

You immediately noticed all four of your boys sitting in chairs placed in different areas around your bed. You gather the blankets around yourself to try and fight off both the cold night and the shivers in your own body as your boys start to gather around you.

Paul reached you first and moved the hair from your eyes to place a hand on your forehead before looking to David.

"No fever" He said, David nodded.

"Good, I want us to check every hour or so to make sure" He said to all the boys. Dwayne leaned down and put his hands on your cheeks.

"How are you feeling?" He asked

"I'm ok, Just really cold and my stomach feels gross" You said, Dwayne nodded.

"That's normal angel, You're gonna have to deal with it till it breaks unfortunately" You nodded but inwardly groaned.

"By tomorrow night your probably going to feel some pain in your jaw area accompanied by more cold sweats and possible stomach aches, that's how you know it's time for you to feed" David stated, you looked up at him.

"We don't want you out there hunting yet till your better and we can teach you, so you'll stay here tomorrow night while we bring you food" Marko said from beside him.

"A fledgling" Dwayne said.

"A what?" He laughed at your confusion.

"That's what you are dear, A baby bat"

"Our little baby bat!' Paul exclaimed laughing out loud, you joined him.

Once you were able to conquer the mountain of fear and nerves the other side was much easier to deal with. Sure it didn't feel the greatest but if it meant spending eternity with your boys then it was a sacrifice you were willing to take ever since they had found you all those years ago they had shown you nothing but a level of love and protection you had never experienced before and you wouldn't know what to do if you didn't have that anymore.

You stretched your arms above your head and craned your back into a stretch while yawning.

"When do I get to learn how to fly?" You asked them at once, they all laughed before David answered.

"All in due time my love, All in due time"

[marjiandco]

Raiku during his first day of adventuring! He arrived at the Carline Canopy late into the night, raring to change out of his Ul'dahn fancy clothes into the fit of a novice adventurer. lil blurb below

Raiku couldn’t help looking over the side of the airship, marveling at the open space below. He knew The Black Shroud had been devastated like all the others in Eorzea, but seeing it was completely different. The networks of caves and circular overhangs were mostly gone, leaving sporadic tunnels and open spaces where he could see the grass, bushes, and shrubs of the forest floor.

Okay not that much, it was still 10:00 at night but it was enough to be a shock. His interest waned as soon as the airship rounded a corner and Gridania’s lights beckoned his attention. Even it was fully viewable from his vantage point. He bounced on the balls of his feet, grinning as they pulled into the landing, slowly descending at an agonizing rate as he shuffled his pack.

This is it. The gangplank is down and his feet will soon stand on Gridanian soil. No. A new life soil. He refused to look down at his Ul’dahn attire, looking forward to replacing it with archer gear and plainclothes. The fabric was too rich, too much to show the difference between him and the others. He snorted to himself, catching the eye of other adventurers already in gear. As if his wealth wasn’t show from having an airship booking.

He simply had to! What with his father breathing down his neck and the servants watching his every move to report. He had to leave as quick as possible. After this though, he’ll be a normal person. He glanced over at a party, eyeing the iron metal pauldrons on a lancer appreciatively. The conjurer too had frayed edges on their cloak, fiddling with a loose button on their neck as the wind picked up. He’ll be like them. Come tomorrow he’s going to be an adventurer.

He waited in line to speak to Mother Miounne, taking in the Carline Canopy. Even at night it was near full with new adventurers and parties and random small folk. Talking and drinking and eating. Maybe regaling tales of their adventures…maybe he could join one of them soon.

“Sir how can I help you?”

Raiku flung his head around, craning his neck to look at the proprietress.

“Hi I’m here to sign up for the guild! Er, the archery guild. I’m Raiku Honaku.”

She smiled warmly at him, searching through a large ledger hidden by the lip of her desk.

“Yes I see your name here. Unique name my I add. Have you been to the Twelveswood before?”

“Yes! Or I have been before the calamity. Things look so different now.”

“Yes…indeed they are.” There was a melancholy to her voice, but her warmth returned. “Will you be needing a room?”

“Yes! I have the gil right, right here.” He fumbled inside his bag, pulling out a fistful of coin to place in her expectant hand.

“Do you have a map of The Blac- the Twelveswood? It’s so different from when I was here last and I’d like to visit the stalls.”

She nodded and handed him a small booklet, tapping to the top with her finger. “Here you are, if you open up the first page you’ll spot us here in the Carline Canopy. I’d suggest using the aether system until you get your barring.” In a flash she looked him up and down “I’d also go to here,” she flipped to the next page and showed him a long row of clustered shops “before you head to the archery guild. I’m sure they’d appreciate a new recruit who has the proper attire.”

He smiled widely. The shops used to be so far apart, but here it looks like they followed along with the Sapphire exchange method of having everything grouped together. He’d be able to shop and have time to search around the city before his first day.

“Thanks! I will. I’m sure you get this alot but I’m so excited.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. It’s good to see new folks coming to the city-state.” She leaned down conspiratorially as he quickly stood on tip toe to hear her whisper “Between you and me, we were getting quite stuffy, what with the repairs and all. Some perspective is always a good thing to have. It’s why I opened up an adventurer’s guild here all those years ago.”

Raiku nodded, his dark ears shading pink at the rush of it all. He’s already helping just by being here. As if a sign. He’s supposed to be an adventurer. He could possibly even meet the Eikon Slayer if he plays his cards right.

“Anything else you need?”

“Nope! Wait. Yes! Are the rooms still…?”

“To the right up the stairs. Have a pleasant evening.” Mother Miounne waved him off as he skipped a couple of steps on his way up.

Tomorrow will be the start of his new life. He couldn’t wait.

[justforbooks]

Marianne Faithfull, singular icon of British pop, dies aged 78

Singer and actor overcame drug addiction and homelessness to collaborate with everyone from the Rolling Stones and Metallica to Jean-Luc Godard

Marianne Faithfull, whose six-decade career marked her out as one of the UK’s most versatile and characterful singer-songwriters, has died aged 78.

A spokesperson said: “It is with deep sadness that we announce the death of the singer, songwriter and actress Marianne Faithfull.

“Marianne passed away peacefully in London today, in the company of her loving family. She will be dearly missed.”

With a discography that spanned classic 60s pop tunes to the prowling synthpop of Broken English and onto collaborations with Nick Cave, Warren Ellis, Lou Reed and more, Faithfull was idolised by fans and fellow musicians alike, and was also celebrated across the worlds of fashion and film.

Mick Jagger, with whom she had a four-year relationship, said: “I am so saddened to hear of the death of Marianne Faithfull. She was so much part of my life for so long. She was a wonderful friend, a beautiful singer and a great actress. She will always be remembered.”

Born in 1946 in London, Faithfull was descended from Austrian nobility on her mother’s side – her great-great-uncle Leopold von Sacher-Masoch wrote the erotic novel Venus in Furs – but grew up in relatively ordinary surroundings in a terraced house in Reading.

After leaving for London in her teens, she met Rolling Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham, who asked Mick Jagger and Keith Richards to write her 1964 debut single As Tears Go By, which hit the UK Top 10. She had three other Top 10 singles in 1965, all of which also reached the Top 40 in the US.

Faithfull also began acting at that time, appearing on stage in productions of Chekhov’s Three Sisters, alongside Glenda Jackson, and Hamlet, playing Ophelia with Anjelica Huston as her understudy and performing each night’s climactic “madness” scene, she later revealed, high on heroin.

On screen, she acted alongside Orson Welles, Oliver Reed, Alain Delon and Anna Karina, and played herself in Jean-Luc Godard’s 1966 film Made in the USA.

Her fame as an icon of “swinging London” was superseded, though, by the infamy that came from her relationship with the Rolling Stones. She had married the artist John Dunbar in 1965 and had a son, Nicholas, but soon left Dunbar for Mick Jagger.

She was often described as a muse for the band: she once told Jagger “wild horses couldn’t drag me away”, which became the chorus line to Wild Horses, and her drug struggles also proved inspirational for the songs Dear Doctor and You Can’t Always Get What You Want. She said: “I know they used me as a muse for those tough drug songs. I knew I was being used, but it was for a worthy cause.”

She co-wrote her song Sister Morphine, recorded with Jagger, Richards and Ry Cooder, and later recorded by the Rolling Stones for their album Sticky Fingers, but her writing credit was left off until she won a protracted legal battle.

Her addiction to cocaine and heroin worsened, and her reputation was damaged by being discovered naked, wrapped in a fur rug after having a shower, during a 1967 police search of Keith Richards’ house, alongside Richards, Jagger and six other men (described by one person as an innocent gathering “of pure domesticity”). “It destroyed me,” she later said. “To be a male drug addict and to act like that is always enhancing and glamorising. A woman in that situation becomes a slut and a bad mother.”

In 1970, Faithfull lost custody of her son, split with Jagger and became homeless, living on the streets of Soho in London as she tried to quit heroin. “I’d been living in a very fake sort of world in the 60s,” she said in 2016. “Suddenly, when I was living on the streets … I realised that human beings were really good. The Chinese restaurant let me wash my clothes there. The man who had the tea stall gave me cups of tea.” She slowly turned her life around, ending an almost decade-long spell away from music with the country album Dreamin’ My Dreams in 1976.

She cemented her comeback with one of her most acclaimed albums, 1979’s Grammy-nominated Broken English, embracing synthpop and postpunk with an affectingly raw, deepened voice. She quit drugs for good in 1985, and regularly released music throughout the rest of her career. Her collaborators over the years included Nick Cave, Damon Albarn, Emmylou Harris, Beck and Metallica. She released 21 studio albums.

Faithfull married and divorced two additional times, to Ben Brierly of punk band the Vibrators, and the actor Giorgio Della Terza. “I’ve had a wonderful life with all my lovers, and husbands,” she said in 2011, excepting Della Terza: “He was American, and he was a nightmare.”

There were other acting roles, too, notably playing God in two episodes of the sitcom Absolutely Fabulous; the devil in a 2004 production of The Black Rider, a musical by Tom Waits and William Burroughs; and Empress Maria Theresa in Sofia Coppola’s film Marie Antoinette.

In her later years she lived in Paris, and reacted to the 2015 terror attack at the city’s Bataclan concert venue, in which 90 people were killed, with a song called They Come at Night written on the day of the attacks.

Faithfull had numerous health issues. In 2007, she announced she had the liver illness hepatitis C, having been diagnosed 12 years previously. She had successful surgery following a breast cancer diagnosis in 2006, and weathered numerous joint ailments in her later years, including arthritis. In the early 1970s, she also suffered from anorexia during her heroin addiction. In 2020, she contracted Covid-19 and was hospitalised for 22 days.

She is survived by her son, Nicholas Dunbar.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[wormconsumer]

Based off a post I saw with the idea that Robert Smirke had fourteen friends, each falling too/representing a different entity, with Smirke himself being the Extinction.

To get the obvious ones out of the way: Jonah Magnus as the Eye, Mordechai Lukas as the Lonely, Maxwell Rayner as the Dark, and George Gilbert Scott as the Buried; these ones are all canon. Not directly canon but a pretty reasonable assumption is Simon Fairchild as the Vast; we know Simon had Maxwell Rayner help him with his Awful Deep ritual in 1853, which was only a few years before Smirke died, and Smirke hung out with Rayner a ton, so it makes sense for Simon to be part of the group (though by a different name; he only started going by “Simon Fairchild” in the 1930s). Another fairly reasonable assumption, in my opinion, is John Franklin for the Hunt. Franklin is canonically a Hunt avatar in The Magnus Archives, his real-life timeline overlaps with Smirke and the rest, and Rayner was canonically interested in his expedition, which was probably because he wanted to use Franklin’s knowledge of arctic exploration for his ritual, but could also imply they knew each other, and therefore, Smirke’s gang.

For the Corruption, my first thought was John Amherst, but he only became an avatar during the Second Boer War, which was about half a century after Smirke’s time. Instead, John Snow is a better fit. He was an English physician who lived during the same time as Smirke, and he had something going on; his descendant Neil Thompson has a syringe that belonged to Snow that had Corruption properties, so Snow fits. For the Slaughter, we could go with Charles Fleming. We know he was in China from at least the beginning of the First Opium War in 1839, and Smirke and Jonah and the rest were up and active on their supernatural studies since at least the 1810s, so it’s theoretical Fleming could have hung out with them, even though he didn’t become touched by the Slaughter until he went to China. Maybe he came back later, though he was in China at least until 1862. Alternatively, William Hall, the actual captain of the Nemesis, could be an option, his lifetime overlaps pretty well with Smirke’s, though there is no evidence he interacted with the Slaughter besides his interactions with Fleming and the Nemesis. Still, he was probably a bit more high-society that Fleming, so I kind of prefer him. Finally, for the more reasonable ones, we have Joey Grimaldi for the Stranger. Grimaldi’s timeline overlaps with Smirke’s, and we know he was affected by the Stranger even before he was turned into Nikola Orsinov. The reason I’m choosing Grimaldi instead of Gregor Orsinov or Nikolai Denikin is that we know for sure he was in England while Smirke was, unlike the other two.

Now for the more out-there guesses. For the Flesh, there are a few options. One is Eustace Wick, the Lutheran priest-turned-cannibal, who did live at the same time as Smirke, but he became an avatar in 1832, died in 1845, and has no evidence that he’d even been to England, considering he’s American. The other options would be Benjamin Carlisle, Benjamin’s unnamed wife, or possibly some other relative or descendant of theirs. I find this one the more likely choice, because Jonathan Sims specifically wonders how Benjamin Carlisle’s wife was able to give her statement to the Magnus Institute, considering she starved to death in a cave on the Oregon Trail in 1845, as well as the fact that an apparent descendant of her, Toby Carlisle, is living in England by the 21st Century and has enough of a connection with the Flesh to be pretty severely affected by the failure of the Last Feast ritual. The unnamed Mrs. Carlisle being the Flesh representative does mean she presumably gave in and cannibalized her husband, and the timeline only gives her about a decade to have hung out with the rest before Smirke’s death, but I think that fits, considering what Smirke said about just coming up with theories about the Flesh in his statement.

The Spiral has similarly not a lot to go on. I would just say the Distortion, seeing as it’s an immortal manifestation of the Spiral itself. We know that Ivo Lenshik’s father was tormented by the Distortion in a human form, and apparently Lenshik’s great-uncle did too, implying that the Distortion did assume a humanoid form sometimes, before it was forced to by the failure of the Great Twisting ritual. Plus, Jonah Magnus clearly knows who the Distortion is, which yes, he could have learned at literally any point from the past two hundred years, but seeing as we’ve got nothing else, I’ll choose to believe. For the Web, the only older avatars of the Web we’re aware of would be the historical owners of the house at Hill Top Road. We don’t know who owned it during Smirke’s time; the closest we have are the unnamed blackmailer who died during the English Civil War in the mid-1600s, and Walter Fielding, who died in 1923. Walter’s son and grandson both owned the house for about thirty years before dying, so with the same amount of time applied, Walter couldn’t be our Web avatar. Honestly, the answer might just have to be “whichever Web avatar was owning the house at Hill Top Road during the first half of the 19th Century.”

For the Desolation, we have even less. Diego Molina founded the Cult of the Lightless Flame at some point prior to World War II, but we have no idea when, and it couldn’t have been that long, considering what Eugene Vanderstock says about the immortality of Desolation avatars having some kind of limit. The same is true of the End. The only known End avatar who was alive during Smirke’s time was Nathaniel Thorp, who was a Death at the time, and didn’t become human again until 1970. It’s unlikely that Deaths got breaks to socialize.

So, in summary, we know for sure about:

* Jonah Magnus — The Eye

* Mordechai Lukas — The Lonely

* Maxwell Rayner — The Dark

* George Gilbert Scott — The Buried

We can make some reasonable assumptions about:

* Simon Fairchild — The Vast

* John Franklin — The Hunt

We can make educated guesses about:

* John Snow — The Corruption

* William Hall — The Slaughter

* Joey Grimaldi — The Stranger

We can make complete guesses about:

* Mrs. Carlisle — The Flesh

* The Distortion — The Spiral

* Owner of the house at Hill Top Road — The Web

And we have nothing for:

* The Desolation

* The End

If anyone has ideas or things I missed, let me know.

[safe-from-sharp-teeth]

Trying my hand at some writing! This is a very new world I have, called the Heartlands, featuring a human kingdom of the same name in a world of monsters. (In Hiding actually takes place nowhere near the kingdom, but far up north.) This is a character prologue for someone you'll see more of later! Details and designs might change down the line. Enjoy :)

CHARACTER PROLOGUE: ASYR // IN HIDING

Asyr wishes on a comet to meet a human.

3k words, unwilling pred and unwilling prey, dragon vore, a lot of anxiety, angst, some good times that are quickly ruined, soft, safe, nonfatal vore only, blood mention

I wish to be a human.

Atop the cliffside overlooking the endless crater below lies a man. More accurately, a creature that looks like a man rests with fingers dug into the grass and soil below. A curious object stays cupped within his other hand, a light glow emanating from within his fingers. Stars glitter overhead, and what looks like a passing meteor shoots across the moonlit sky before burning, invariably, to dust.

No, no, that’s asking too much…I, uh…wish just to talk to a human. Face-to-face. Before mom gets them, at least. 

That happened all too often. A passing soul would venture into the cave systems below in search of glittering gems or relics of ancient civilizations, and they would never come out. If the traps didn’t get them, the dragons would.

My kin.

Asyr’s legs - currently dangling over the edge of the cliff - started swinging in place. It was the best way he could get that “tail waggle” energy out in this form without a tail. Pretending to be a human was just so fun! And dangerous. If Mom were to see-

His train of thought was interrupted as something felt very, very wrong. Anxious energy shot through his veins. What is it? Is something there? My hand- He opened his palm, perplexed, revealing the rock shard he had been holding. The glow had faded completely, leaving the stone with a dull blue hue. Wha…?

"Kid! Psst! Get away from the edge!"

Asyr scrambled. He nearly flung himself off the cliff, finding that these human fingernails were not nearly as good at hoisting himself up as his claws. But he managed to get himself away from the edge in a panic, his breathing erratic. A pale, human face watched him from behind a tree a good few yards away.

The human scrunched up his nose. “What are ya doing out here? If one of those creatures sees ya, you’ll…uh-” he stopped. He stepped out from the tree, revealing his full form: tall, medium build, with tangled brown hair and an unshaven face. He had a small pack on his back and a knife sheathed on his belt. In a swift motion, the man produced a crossbow from his pack and aimed it at Asyr.

“What…are ya?”

At this moment, Asyr was on his back, recovering from the scare. The human looked upside-down to him. He turned to be on his stomach, dirt mixing with his otherwise well-kept golden hair.

“Ah….Aghah…I’m…” The fledgling weighed his options. Dragons are methodical, nigh immortal creatures who can spend weeks, if not years pondering the best course of action for a certain event. Asyr didn’t have that kind of time, so he chose the option that he thought was less likely to get him killed. 

This choice would eventually be proven wrong.

“I’m…I’m a human,” he wheezed. “Same as you!”

“Mmm, ya don’t look like any human I’ve ever seen. Black eyes ‘n all. And are those horns?” The crossbow was still trained on his face.

“Native! I’m….native. One of the, er, descendants… of the humans who lived here. Doubt you’ve ever seen one of us; we live…underground…?” 

The human pondered. “So,” a gleam entered his eye, “yer saying ya know the area?” 

Asyr shuddered. He knew where this was going. He could say no. But this was a real human! When would he have this chance again? “Like the back of my talo…-hands.”

“Cool.” The human lowered the crossbow and retrieved a small object from his pocket. He walked over to Asyr, who was still lying in the dirt. The man grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to a standing position.

“I’m Jay,” he beamed. “And,” he placed a coin of solid gold into Asyr’s trembling hand, “how about ya lead me down there?”

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

His chest felt like bursting as they descended into the pit. Typically, Asyr would just fly down, but for obvious reasons, he had to take the perilous, spiraling ramp that ran around the edge of the hole. At many points, the pair came across entrances to tunnels unknown to the fledgling, which he would simply shoo off, saying their prize was further below. The journey was awkwardly silent - Asyr had spent years daydreaming about talking to a human, and now that the chance had come, no words came out. His throat felt remarkably dry.

Instead of talking, he looked at the items that had creased his hands from holding onto them so tightly: the gold coin from Jay, and the dull, sharp rock from earlier.

“Whas’ that.”

Once again, he almost jumped in his skin. “AAh, ah, it’s…a lucky charm, I guess? It’s a piece of a comet from long ago.” Maybe I can get some information from him. “What do you know about this area, Jay?”

“Mm. Full o’ treasure, it is. Now crawling with dragons. What happened before doesn’t interest me,” he chuckled.

A sad look overtook the fledgling’s face. “W-well, you might be interested in this: it’s said that a comet struck this land a long time ago, imbuing the area with magic. Even the humans who moved in here could wield it using tools and tomes.” His eyes sparkled. “They’re long gone now, but it’s said that if you can find one of the pieces of the comet and make a wish on it, it’ll come true.” He was too embarrassed to admit how many times he had sat atop that cliff, doing this very thing.

Jay looked at the shard in the boy’s hand. “So thas’ one of the magic comet pieces, is it?”

“Well…It’s useless to me now. I think the magic’s gone if there was any-”

“Yoink.” Jay snatched the piece too quickly for Asyr to react. “Magic rocks, eh? Thanks for the tip. Could make a fortune on suckers,” he snickered.

A sparkle grew in Asyr’s eyes, his imaginary tail threatening to wag. Maybe humans have hoards, just like me.

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

Finally, the pair reached a familiar tunnel to Asyr. Home. Charred remains of some former creature lie at the entrance. Mom’s warning to intruders. Oh Gods, MOM. The weight of exactly what he was doing hit him like a boulder, and Asyr struggled to breathe, his body rebelling against him.

“Are -  Are you quite sure this is a good idea?” Asyr wheezed. “I know the dragon who lives here. She - it’s dangerous. Like, really dangerous. ‘No-one-has-made-it-out-alive’ dangerous.”

Jay stiffened. “Kid, ya gotta learn a bit about treasure hunting. Dangerous izza whole point. ‘Nothing in the world is worth doing ‘less it means effort and pain and difficulty’, ‘kay? S’what we chase to feel alive.”

He steadied himself on Jay’s words. Humans believe they can do anything. He thought about the night after night that he trembled at the idea of hunting, hiding from his mother. If only I had that confidence.

“C’mon kid, let’s get a move on - while the beastie still sleeps.” Jay pat Asyr on the back, and they headed in, the dark finally swallowing them whole.

These tunnels may have originally been built by humans, but the dragons expanded when they moved in. Now they were massive, easily 30 feet tall by 30 feet wide. The ambiance felt…lonely.

This should be easy. I know the way…don’t I? As the pair ventured further in, the fledgling couldn’t help but feel a rising panic setting in. These human eyes couldn’t see in the dark like he normally could, and Jake’s paltry torch only disoriented him further. The smells were all weird, and he felt so small. A few steps as a dragon could be a few dozen for a human. Rounding a corner, the two came across a corridor lined with stone tiles. Strange holes lie between many of the tiles. 

Panic set in for Asyr. “I…I have no idea where we are. I’ve n-never seen this before.”

Jay once again patted the boy on the back. “Not to worry; ya’ve done well to lead us down here. This is a basic spike trap!” he grinned. “See the tiles that look more worn than the others? That's the path we should follow. I’ll show you.” 

“Wha-wait!” Asyr whisper-yelled as the man skipped across the stones with ease. To his surprise, Jay wasn’t skewered.

“Yer turn, kid.”

I could turn into a dragon right now and fly across. Or I could leave and never look back. But…Asyr looked at Jay’s face, a smirk lining it. He believes in me. Just pretend I’m human. I’m human…And he leaped.

Asyr ran across the tiles with an unbalanced, awkward gait. Human bodies were quite hard to control, after all. Unfortunately, this started setting off spikes mere inches from his body, causing him to barely hold in a scream. In slow motion, Jay’s smile fully turned into a grimace, expecting his partner in crime to turn into a kebab. He was pleasantly surprised(and immediately annoyed) when Asyr bounded over the last tile and scampered straight into him, knocking the two of them over.

“GAH - KID,” the human exclaimed, ready to shove the anxious mess of a person off of him. He stopped when he felt tears plop onto his shirt. “...Ya okay, kid?”

“I-I’m alive,” the fledgling sniffled, a smile spread across his face. “Th-that was the scariest th-thing I’ve ever done. Second scariest,” he rasped. 

Jay patted his head. “Here, les’ get up.” Asyr removed himself from the human, and the both of them stood back up, dust clinging to their outfits. “Not bad for your…presumably…first trap ever. (How in the world are you still alive down here) Ya know, how about…when we get the treasure, I give ya a share…like 10% for your help. And ya know that gold coin I gave ya?” Asyr nodded.

“Les’ go out after this. Get a nice meal together. Ya can use that to pay.”

Tears welled in his eyes, and Asyr hugged the roguish human. It was the first hug that the fledgling had ever experienced. Warmth flooded through the cold-blooded creature, turning his cheeks a rosy pink. My first friend.

Jay groaned. “‘Kay, kid, c’mon. We got through one trap.”

Asyr tentatively let go, laughing. Joy couldn’t help but overflow from his face. “And we’ll get through a dozen more!” They started their path forward. Jay rolled his eyes as Asyr continued, “With you, I think we can beat any-”

The net underneath them, currently hidden between the tiles, sprung upwards. In a split second, Jay and Asyr were dangling 30 feet above the ground.

“-traps.”

Jay’s demeanor began to change. “Ha, ah, um, didn’t see that one coming. L-luckily, I have a knife just for moments like this.” he unsheathed the knife from his waist and began to cut at the large net holding them in place.

Asyr felt panic rise in him for what felt like the hundredth time on this mission. But look, Jay knows what he’s doing. He’s a seasoned adventurer. It can’t get any worse.

And then, an alarm started blaring. A bell, ringing and ringing and ringing. The fledgling’s eyes went wide. He had only heard this bell a few times before when some poor soul had come for Mom’s hoard. She would always come back with blood around her mouth.

“J-JAY, can you get us o-ouT OF HERE-” Asyr said, terrified.

“It’s a huge fall! I-I’m not sure we’d even make it!” Jay stammered in response.

“PLEASE,” Asyr sobbed, reaching to wrestle the knife from his hands.

But it was too late for them to escape, even if they could survive the fall. A low growwwwllll echoed through the corridor, a huff of smoke accompanying it. Asyr tried to back up as far as he could, but the net made the situation impossible to get away from. He couldn’t even transform back into a dragon without potentially strangling himself in the net, or crushing Jay. He could only watch in terror as Ervyr, the Firebreather - his mother - leisurely crept into view.

Ervyr had a terrifying air about her. She’s one of the only Lung Dragons to still exist, and even rarer, one of the few of her kind to have been consumed by greed. She’s jet-black in appearance, with fangs larger than a human head. Her hoard is legendary and encompasses much of the Northern Crater. To try to pillage even a speck of gold from it is a monumentally foolish decision.

“Two humans,” she rumbled, “after my hoard.” She stepped on the spike trap, the spikes piercing upwards into her skin. It didn’t make a dent. “How would you like to die? Boiled? Charred?” Continuous smoke exited her nostrils. She reached out towards the net, easily slicing the top of it with a single claw, a paw underneath to catch her prey. Now, Jay and Asyr were “free”...in the hands of a dragon that wanted to kill them, of course.

“M-Mama,” Asyr croaked. There is no way to get out of this. There is no way to get out of this. We’re going to die.

“Oh look,” she puffed out a breath of smoke. “This one’s calling for their mama. Does the other one have anything to say?”

Jay was petrified. He looked like the wind had been completely knocked out of him. Still, he tried to respond. “‘S the kid. H-he brought me here; he knows about the hoard - G-gods above, kill ‘im, not m-me. I’ll tell me friends n-not to ever come ‘ere, ma’am.”

Ervyr grinned, picking up Asyr by the shirt and holding him above her mouth. Asyr squirmed, barely even registering Jay’s betrayal. “I loooooove humans. So deceptive. And so tasty, too. Looks like your time is up, kid~” she opened her jaws, her massive forked tongue lolling out. 

“Mama!! Mama!! MAMA!!!” Asyr wailed, snapping out of the shock of the situation. In an instant, he was back in his dragon form, resembling a much smaller and less fearsome Ervyr. He squirmed out of his mother’s grasp, floating in place.

She blinked with all three of her inner eyelids, Jay still cupped in her hand. Silence filled the corridor. Asyr dared not move, speak, or touch her. She had never caught him in any other form before, and a pit of dread lay in his throat thinking about what she thought of him gallivanting around as a lowly human. She had taught him to believe dragons were superior to all others. 

“Asyr.” she breathed, smoke exiting her nostrils. “What a great teachable moment you have thrust yourself into.” She uncupped Jay, who was currently stabbing at her paw with his knife. It did absolutely nothing. She grasped the knife between two claws before throwing it to the side. “You see, I will forget your little…transgression just now, under one condition.” Her claws sliced off Jay’s pack, and it unceremoniously fell on the floor.

“You eat this one.”

Asyr tensed, a shaky breath escaping him. “Mama, please-”

“YOU EAT THIS ONE,” she ROARED, the cavern walls shaking from the tremor. Smoke billowed from her mouth. The only other noise was Jay babbling to himself, praying to any god that might hear him. 

“Yes, Mama.”

“First lesson: humans carry weapons. I took care of it for you. How loving am I,” she spat, flinging the human at Asyr. The fledgling wasn’t nearly as big as her, so the human smacked him in the maw, pain shooting through his face. He managed to catch the human by the shoulders, holding on as Jay squirmed. 

“E-eat me and I’ll punch and kick and end ya, beastie,” Jay jabbered. 

“Now,” she sat back, still floating in the air. “Go ahead. Your first human. How exciting.”

Asyr trembled. He couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. This was the first human he had ever talked to, his wish upon a comet shard. No matter how Jay acted, Asyr could not find it in himself to hate him more than he hated himself. I will not kill him. I REFUSE. And yet, that refusal would mean Jay would get eaten by his mom. There is no way to get out of this. There is no way to get out of this.

And yet…

He looked down at the sniveling human, just big enough to fully fit into his maw. I could eat him in one go, and then release him outside as soon as I could. Trepidation filled his body once more. He had never done anything like this before - would he choke? He didn’t exactly have a choice. I will keep you safe.

He tentatively opened his mouth, gingerly pushing the human inside. Jay squirmed further, kicking and screaming until his arm caught on one of Asyr’s fangs, slicing into him. Jay gasped and held his arm to his chest. The dragon winced. No! Don’t squirm! He wished he could tell him as blood slid down his gullet. He shivered, hating every gulp as he forced the human further and further within him.

“Euuuaugh.” Asyr exhaled, his last gllp audible as the human slipped into him. It was awful. Whatever enjoyment could be had in this process was overshadowed by the massive stress of this entire ordeal. 

“Whole and alive?~” his mother laughed. “Perhaps you’ll be able to leave the nest earlier than I thought.” She turned away, looking back at the young dragon. “I’m off to find my dinner. You’ve given me quite the appetite.” With that, she turned a corner and disappeared.

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

Vomiting out Jay was as uncomfortable an experience as eating him in the first place, Asyr found. And yet, he persisted, spitting Jay out on the same hill in which they first met. Once he was fully out of him, Asyr transformed back into his human form, wiping the saliva and stomach juices from his lips. In the distance, the sun was beginning to rise.

“Jay!! JAY!! I didn’t hurt you, did I? Oh gods, please don’t tell me my stomach hurt you. I can’t,” he sniffed, “I can’t bear any more heartbreak.”

Jay scrambled backward, protecting his arm and rising groggily, falling back onto the ground. 

“Yer SICK. Yer a FREAK!” he yelled, furiously wiping slime off his face.

“I HAD to,” he quivered. “B..But look! We’re both safe now.” He reached into his pocket, producing the gold coin he was gifted before. “We can go…out…somewhere…” he trailed off as the human sprinted away from view. The fledgling’s lower lip quivered. Heat bloomed in his face.

No one likes a dragon.

No one likes….me.

(Thanks for reading, errrrr it'll get better for Asyr soon enough...yeah...)

[cosmicrex2301]

Taste The Rainbow (Kryptonite)

It had been a pleasant day at the office for Clark. It'd been nothing special, but he was nearly finished editing a report, meaning he could head home soon. His phone lit up on his desk and he smiled at the notification. A message from Bruce, asking him to come over after work. Clark sent a thumbs up in response before finishing up his editing. 

He leaned back in his chair, stretching out his back and rolling his shoulders, easing out the tension from leaning over his desk all day.

“Are you heading home?” Lois called from her desk, her own report still open on her screen. Yes, he wished to say, but couldn't. Wayne Manor wasn’t his home. Not yet. Not ever, maybe. Though Clark desperately hoped that wouldn't be the case.

“I'm ducking out for a bit before I head home,” was his response.

“I'm a bit jealous. I feel like I'm gonna be here until my hair turns grey.” Clark chuckled, saying goodbyes to coworkers as he left. He stepped outside and breathed in. The city air wasn't as nice as in the country, but he still appreciated it after being in the office all day. 

Clark knew that flying to Gotham as Superman might turn a few heads, but no one could really spot him if he flew fast enough, right? Any other mode of transport would take too long, anyway. After all, Batman, Bruce, asked him to come by after work. Who is Clark to keep him waiting? He found a discreet place to change, thanking his past self for taking the bus instead of driving. 

Within a few seconds, Clark was descending on Wayne Manor. The door opened before Clark could knock. “Mr. Kent, please come in.” Alfred stepped aside, allowing Clark to enter. He was about to make his way down to the Batcave when Alfred called out, “Perhaps you would find it more comfortable to get changed before heading down. Master Bruce will be out of uniform as well.” 

“Thank you, Alfred,” Clark replied. He moved to the nearest guest room to get changed before heading down to the Batcave. 

The Batcave was large and cavernous, expanding underneath the Manor. Clark wasn't a stranger to the cave, he'd been here before, however that doesn't stop the nerves that send a shiver down his spine. That was just the atmosphere the cave created.

“Clark,” a deep voice called. Not as deep as Batman's, but not as high as Brucie either. Bruce's voice, Clark discovered, is in between the two. Clark turned his head towards the voice and smiled at Bruce, receiving a small smile in return. Bruce’s outfit was simple, a white button-up shirt and black pants, not unlike Clark's own attire. The top few buttons of Bruce's shirt were undone, exposing part of his chest.

Clark made his way over to Bruce who was leaning on a table with various labelled boxes on it. Lined with lead, Clark realised. Immediately, Clark was suspicious. He trusted Bruce, but anything lined with lead always put him on edge. It was the one thing he couldn’t see through. “Bruce, what is this?” He gestured to the table, a slight frown on his face.

“It has come to my attention that there are many different types of Kryptonite, and I need to know what they do, so that we can be prepared for any occasion.” Bruce's answer shocked Clark. That's what's in the boxes? Kryptonite?

“Bruce, are you saying you called me here… to use Kryptonite on me?” Bruce shrugged.

“If you want to put it simply, yes. However, it is for research and safety purposes.” Clark stared at the table, the nine boxes made him nervous.

“I didn't even know there were this many types of Kryptonite,” he breathed. Bruce shook his head.

“There's probably more. This is just all I could get my hands on.” Clark looked at him, his brow furrowed.

“How did you even get these?” Bruce shrugged.

“The green Kryptonite I already had. Most of the others came from Lex Luthor.” Clark gaped.

“He gave you Kryptonite?”

“Obviously not. He sold them to me.” Clark frowned, confused.

“How did you convince him to sell them? Surely he found it super suspicious, he’s Lex Luthor.” Bruce smiled, amusement and confidence evident on his face.

“Clark, please, I'm Bruce Wayne.” Clark shook his head, deciding to drop. He wasn't going to get anything better from Bruce, anyway. Bruce stepped to the side, giving Clark a full view of the table. “Alright,” he said, gesturing to the table. “Pick your poison.” Clark wearily eyed the table, hating everything about this.

“None of them?” Bruce sighed, levelling Clark with a level 1 Bat GlareTM. Clark groaned and eyed the table again. “Fine… Green, I guess. At least I know what that one does…” Bruce nodded, moving over the box and opening it. Clark let out a hiss of pain, staggering away from the table. Bruce wrote down numerous notes before the box was shut. He looked up to give Clark a disapproving look, but continued on when Clark levelled him with a glare of his own.

Bruce gave Clark a moment to rest and reset before he prompted him to choose another box. “Um, how about we try… pink? Pink's pretty, surely that means it'll be fine, right?” The look Bruce sent his way screamed ‘what the fuck, Clark?’, but Clark ignored him, instead pretending that his flawed reasoning actually made sense. Bruce opened the box, poised to take more notes. His face twisted into one of confusion when Clark didn't react after a few moments. 

“Do you feel anything? Anything different?” He prompted. Clark just shook his head.

“No, I don't think so. Huh, maybe pink doesn't do anything?” 

“Hn.” Was Bruce’s response. He eyed Clark suspiciously before he reluctantly closed the box. Bruce reached over and opened the box labelled ‘periwinkle’, not trusting Clark to choose again after his horrible reasoning for the last one. Clark started to glare at him, but his face smoothed out almost immediately. Bruce sent him a questioning look, but when he received no response, he switched to verbal questioning. “Clark? Are you alright?” The only response he received was a confused blink. Bruce raised an eyebrow, but took to writing down the effects instead of watching Clark. He was stopped suddenly when the air around him rushed, and there was suddenly a wall of man in front of him. Bruce looked up to see Clark standing directly in front of him. He lowered his tablet, which proved a mistake as Clark moved forwards into the vacated space. Bruce took a sharp breath in and stepped back, hitting the table and rattling the boxes placed there. “Clark?” He asked, eyes flitting around, unsure of where to look. Clark’s hands rested either side of Bruce, trapping him between the table and the wall of muscle. Bruce let his arms hang limply at his sides, unsure what to do. “Clark?” He tried again, gaining a grin from the man. Clark’s smile felt dangerous, and Bruce wasn’t sure he wanted to figure out why. Clark leaned closer, forcing Bruce to lean back. Instinctively, Bruce pulled his arms up, hands landing on Clark’s chest to push him back. A bit foolish, considering Clark’s super strength. Clark’s grin just widened, eyes lit up with hunger. His right hand reached up, cupping the back of Bruce’s head and tilting it upward. Clark’s eyes flicked down to Bruce’s lips before they found his wide eyes. Not breaking eye contact, Clark leaned in and captured Bruce’s lips with his own. Bruce let out a small sound of surprise, but it was muffled by the kiss. His mind reeled as he tried to make sense of what was happening. While trying to figure everything out, Bruce found himself returning the kiss. He leaned in to Clark, one hand running up Clark’s chest and cupping his face. His other hand fell to the table, reaching for the open box of periwinkle kryptonite. With a snap, the box closed, and Bruce forced his hand to fall from Clark’s face. He leant back, trying to put space between him and Clark, his chest heaving and face flushed. Bruce's eyes kept flicking to and from Clark’s face, trying to gauge his reaction. Clark’s eyes unfocused for a moment before he looked and Bruce again, eyes clear. He lifted his right arm again, but this time he reached up to Bruce’s face, gently holding it as he leaned in once more. Bruce tried to pull away, but Clark held him still, his forehead coming to rest on Bruce's.

“This isn’t the kryptonite, Bruce,” was all the warning Bruce got before Clark once again captured his lips. Clark was present, himself, and Bruce couldn’t find a reason to deny him. Bruce leaned into the kiss once more, this time more purposeful and assured. The kiss was slow and tender, loving poured out of one and into the other. When they separated, Clark smiled down at Bruce. Bruce looked up at Clark, face flushed and lips red, but a small smile graced his lips, something tentative but warm, and Clark felt blessed to see it. Bruce gently pushed Clark back, and Clark moved with his hand. Bruce gave him a small reassuring smile, while reaching for the tablet he’d been using to keep notes. Clark’s eyes followed his hand and he slumped slightly. Bruce gave a light chuckle.

“We still have research to do, Clark.” 

“Do we have to?” Bruce raised a brow at him, amusement evident on his face.

“Yes, Clark. Making out with me doesn’t change the fact that we’re here for a reason.” Bruce turned while talking, his back now to Clark. Clark’s face turns red and he stammers to defend himself.

“N-no, Bruce, that- That wasn’t why I- Oh gosh darn it…” Bruce’s shoulder shook, barely stifled laughter wracking his body. He turned around, holding another box, a smile on his face.

“Relax, Clark, I know that’s not why you did it. Though, I might have to lock that particular finding away in the Batcomputer, I can’t imagine what my kids would do if they got their hands on that information…” Bruce shuddered. “The teasing would be relentless.” Both Bruce and Clark let out a laugh, knowing how Bruce’s kids could be. Clark looked down to the box in Bruce’s hand.

“Alright, what colour are we doing now?” Bruce looked down at the box.

“This one is white kryptonite. I’ve never heard of it, but I’m sure it’s fine…” Clark's eyes widened, a look of panic on his face. Bruce met his eyes and shrugged. “Can’t know until we test it.” Clark let out an uneasy breath and nodded to Bruce, signalling that he was ready. Bruce opened the box and placed it on the table, reaching for his tablet. Both Bruce and Clark stare at each other, waiting for something to happen, but nothing does. That is, until Clark sees Bruce’s eyes widen. “oH SHIT!” Clark turned to see what Bruce was looking at, turning back to him in confusion when he saw nothing. Bruce closed the box and ran over to the Batcomputer. Realisation dawned on Clark as Bruce picked up a now dead plant from the desk. It was the only plant in the cave. Bruce looked from the plant to Clark, regret clear on his face. “I’m so screwed.” Clark frowned.

“How so? Was it Alfred’s?” Bruce let out a sharp laugh.

“God no. I’d be dead if it was.” He sent an uneasy look to the plant. “Though, honestly, I’m not sure if I’m better off like this. You see, Ivy gave it to me, claimed the cave could use some colour and life…” Clark grimaced, understanding Bruce’s reaction.

“Oh you’re so screwed.” Bruce shot him a hopeful look.

“Hide me in the Fortress until she forgets about it?” Clark chuckles.

“Sorry, Bruce, but no. You’re just going to have to live with this one.” Bruce glared at Clark.

“FIne. Whatever. Moving on.” Bruce quickly wrote down some notes before he moved to the last box on the table. “Right, X-Kryptonite. You ready, Clark?” Clark let out a sigh.

“Sure, go ahead.” Bruce opened up the box, tablet in hand to take notes. Clark stands still for a moment, waiting to see if he could feel anything different. “Huh, I don’t feel anything. Maybe it doesn’t do anything, like the pink one?” When Bruce didn’t respond, Clark looked over to him. Bruce’s eyes were closed and his brows furrowed. “Bruce? Are you all good?” Bruce clamped his hands over his ears.

“Please stop talking.” His voice was small, but Clark heard him. He took a worried step towards Bruce, but Bruce held his right hand up, a clear sign telling him to stop. “No! Don’t move either!” Bruce’s hand went back over his ear as he sank to the ground. Clark stood still, trying desperately to find a way to help Bruce. “Clark,” Bruce whispered, voice barely there. “Clark, it’s so loud.” Bruce’s breathing had picked up, quickening to a concerning rate.

“Bruce?” Clark whispered as quietly as he could. Bruce looked up at him, eyes watery and face distorted in pain. Clark slowly floated, doing everything in his power to limit the amount of sound he made. Slowly, ever so slowly, he made his way over to the table and closed the box silently. Bruce buried his head in his knees, ears still covered by his hands. Clark slowly lowered himself down text to Bruce, whispering a quiet reassurance. “It’s going to be alright, Bruce. I’m here.” Clark didn’t move for a while and just allowed Bruce to do whatever he needed. Eventually, Bruce reluctantly leaned over to Clark, head resting on his chest. Bruce allowed the sound of Clark’s heart beat to drown out the rest of the noise assaulting his ears. They sat like that until the effects wore off. At that point, Clark passed Bruce his tablet so he could make notes before picking him up and carrying him up to the manor to rest. When Clark deposited Bruce on his bed, Bruce held on to him, tugging his arm slightly until Clark took the hint and got into bed with him. Bruce curled up into him, head once again on Clark’s chest. Clark held Bruce in his arms and vowed to have a conversation about his horrible research experiments in the morning. But, for now, Bruce needed him, and so Clark held Bruce, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead before falling asleep.

[deafchild2000]

You know, if Julie Plec wasn't an ass, it would have been more obvious that not only that the Lockwoods were important but essential to the town.

((First off, I did some serious research into finding out, or realistically name-dropping, who the unnamed Native Americans that lived alongside Ansel's pack and the village the Mikaelsons lived in (before it was officially Mystic Falls) and low-and-behold, my research led me to my answer: The Monacan Tribe. With thankful help from TVD Wiki establishing its location on a real-life map, the place where the fictional town would be is called Damon, an unincorporated community in Albemarle County, Virginia. And you know what, The Monacan tribe inhabited the Piedmont region of Virginia, particularly west of the fall line of the James River. So by 1000 A.D., while the tribe's presence in that broader region is well-established, they could've been in the vicinity of many present-day locations, including Damon. So establishing that the Monacans were the natives the siblings grew up with and likely had dealings with Ansel's pack, this also means they were the ones who secured the acorn from the parent tree the Mikaelsons destroyed and planted it somewhere safe.))

Now back to the Lockwoods...

Now after all hell broke loose, we got a pack of dead werewolves, Ayana - Bonnie's ancestor - had Esther's coffin, Monacan tribesmen that clearly knew more than expected, and villagers that more or less survived the first vampires. So who would take up the land and share the space - if not another pack of werewolves (pack or family in a separate tribe tbd). But yes, this new group comes in and basically gets filled in on what happened. This leads to the Apisi bloodline knowing about the caves and tunnels, the story of the Originals (with mutual help of the Monacans) secret survival of a second White Ash Tree. What I can't disclose is whether Ayana put Esther's coffin in that cave before or after the Apisi's bloodline arrived in the village.

In the 1800s, when Mystic Falls was a settlement, they eventually became the Lockwood Family (and I really wish we knew how that happened). By then, The first Lockwood Estate was build and the cellars became an entrance to the caves. Jacob Lockwood became one of the first mayors - which his family would continue doing until Carol Lockwood died in 2010. Benjamin Lockwood was mayor in 1864 and his son, George, triggered his werewolf curse while serving as a Confederate soldier during the Civil War (and here's something, George was apparently the first one in the Lockwood Family to discover his bloodline curse and except for keeping the moonstone safe in return for secrecy but never to disclose anything about the curse until his descendants, Mason Lockwood and his nephew, Tyler, were tricked into triggering their curses by Katherine - whom discovered George's curse to begin with). But the fact he was the first means that the Apisi/Lockwood line eventually either learned to avoid triggering the curse or they got incredibly lucky for the large gap in time there was a werewolf until George.

Next, but is kinda obvious - Mystic Falls High School, which given we have no idea when it opened, the fact that it's mascot Timberwolves, despite the fact the last grey wolves were killed off in 1900 and haven't been in Virginia since and coyotes moved into their territory (so a better option for a school mascot) implies subtle awareness or association with the werewolf curse.

And last but not least, it turns out the Lockwoods had been holding a piece of the Hollow's bones (the evil spirit witch that created the werewolf curse in the first place).

So basically, despite vampires and witches ending up more affiliated with the town, it's kinda amazing and heartbreaking to know there's open evidence of werewolf affirmation yet the family responsible had gone extinct by 2017.

[blinddreams24]

Communication/Language

A Mermay Prompt

Masterlist

Prev / Next

“Hey, y/n!” Killer greeted.

You gave him a halfhearted nod and returned back to your food. It was weird only eating fish and sea weed. Not that it was bothering you.

Killer leaned over your shoulder to nip at the fish in your hands. You swatted him away without a sound and Killer backed up. “…You okay, suckerfish.”

You nodded and smiled at him. No. No you weren’t okay. But it was fine. It had only been a week since you’d moved in. And you still couldn’t speak properly. But it was fine. You’d figure it out.

“Killer.” Nightmare called from the crevasse.

Killer shot away with a singsongy, “Yes, Boss~?” and disappeared into the trench.

You sighed through your nose. You were jealous. Yes, jealous. Killer was always talking and singing all the time, and the others did too, but you couldn’t even sing a siren song yet. All you could do was chirp and whistle.

A few minutes later, Killer swung by to tease you again on his way out. That was another thing. The boys could leave the trench for one reason or another, sometimes the Boss would send them on missions you weren’t allowed to know about, but you couldn’t leave unless absolutely necessary. No one let you go anywhere, especially by yourself. Even now, Dust was watching you from his cave, ready to stop you if you tried to leave.

“Y/n.” Called Nightmare.

You shivered and looked over at Dust, who shooed you with a hand. You gently set the half-eaten fish down and cautiously swam into the trench. You hadn’t been to see Nightmare by yourself before and you were terrified.

“I’m not going to bite you. Calm yourself.”

Right. Negativity. You took a few deep breaths as you descended to the floor of the trench, stopping when you were level with his eyes.

He smiled kindly at you. “It has come to my attention that you have not been using your voice, refraining from speaking even in casual conversation.”

You sank a few feet in embarrassment. He wasn’t wrong.

“If you do not practice, you will not develop a voice or a call. Do you know what that means, y/n?”

You shook your head.

“It means you will never become independent. If you cannot use your voice, you will die if you get separated from your pod. Either from starvation or because a larger predator attacked you. Your voice is very important. So I’ve decided to teach you.”

What.

You looked up at the kraken in confusion. He was going to help you? He wasn’t upset that you’d failed to even try?

“As I understand it, you have made quite the impression on my pod. Usually after I’ve rested, Horror would be all over me. He has only come to me twice without being called. The others are sharing food with him too. Cross and especially Killer haven’t shared their meals in decades. And Dust, though you hadn’t met him before, has been visible almost constantly since you arrived, sitting in the edge of his den instead of the very back.” Nightmare encouraged softly. “You have fixed multiple problems, that I have spent years trying to fix, within a few weeks. I wish to thank you. So I am offering my help in your speech therapy. Do you accept?”

You nodded furiously. You’d given up trying to speak to the others. If he could fix your voice, you wouldn’t say no to that. Do you know how hard it is to communicate with someone when you can’t use your voice and don’t know sign language? It’s stupid difficult.

Nightmare grinned. “Good. Now, let’s start shall we?”

Nod nod nod.

Killer swam over you and poked your head. “Hey, suckerfish~!”

“Hhhhey.” You managed back around your food. ‘H’s were hard.

Killer flipped out and spun back around to face you. “What? Y/n, what? What did you say?” He was excited.

You took a moment to swallow. “Hhhey.” You grinned.

A sharp whistle pierced the water and Dust flinched away as Killer cheered you on. “You did it! I knew you could, suckerfish!” He hugged you, shoving you to the side.

You chirped angrily at being manhandled until he stopped. “Mmm- Mmmmnnn- Nnnniiigh…d…mmmmaaaare…hhhhep mmmme.” Scratch that. ‘N’s were harder.

“Wait. Boss helped you?” You nodded and Killer looked even more confused. “Huh. He doesn’t normally do that. Whatever. What have you learned?”

“Sssssssssounnnnndsssss.” You struggled. “Nnnnnnothhhhhhh- thhhhh- iinnnnnng b-big.” ‘Th’s sucked too. You actually gave up on that sound. “Jussssst worrrrdssssss.”

“Liiiiike? C’mon, suckerfish! Give me details!”

You frowned at him. “Toooooo mmmmmuch.”

“Too much what?”

“Too much overstimulation, Killer. Leave them alone.” Dust growled, speaking for you where you could not. You didn’t know how he knew what you meant but you appreciated it.

“When did you become the y/n expert?” Killer snapped. “You’ve barely met them!”

Dust, not caring for Killer’s fit turned to address you. “Was I correct?” You nodded. “I rest my case, Killer. Talk their ear off for all I care but don’t force them to talk when it’s already hard enough.”

Killer struck his tongue out at Dust who ignored him in favor of lying down in the entrance of his den. Without someone to mess with, Killer turned on you and started getting in your space. He tried to grab your food and you slapped his hands away.

“Get yyyyyourrr ownnnnn.” You snarked, pushing him away from your fish.

“Aw, c’mon!” He twisted away from your hand and tried to come back for your food again.

Being trained to deal with sharks, you decided to try something on him. Killer darted forward and you dropped your food to grab him with both hands. You flipped him with his tail upright and he stopped moving, stunned. You happily dug back into your food. Get rotated.

“What did you do??” Dust exclaimed, staring wide eyed at a frozen Killer who couldn’t even speak like that. “He’s quiet! What did you do to him?”

You smiled at Dust and continued eating without answering.

Dust looked excited and worried at the same time. “…Can you do that to all of us?”

You almost choked on your food as you laughed. Dust looked more and more concerned as you didn’t answer.