#they looked very distressed and were cawing quite loudly

[fungus-gnats]

random rambles that are kinda related to nature here again

[asknarashikari]

Minific idea: hmm how about... kid Right sees Misao use his fishing reel as a weapon. (You have to admit using a fishing thing -i forgot the name of that tool used for fishing- is pretty creative and imaginative)

You mean a fishing rod? Yeah, I have to admit that’s an unusual weapon to use. Though Misao/Zyuoh The World is pretty unusual in a lot of respects. His changer is a flashlight for crying out loud

“Hey mister! Have you caught any fish yet?”

Misao sighed, trying not to let his annoyance show too much. “Not yet, Right-kun. It might be awhile before I catch anything at all,” he explained. 

Right pouted at Misao, but nodded, sitting on the riverbank next to him with his knees drawn up to his chest. Misao hummed, turning the crank on his line and letting it drift to what looked like a deeper part of the water, before putting the rod down between two heavy stones he set up earlier. 

Misao glanced at the kid who decided, out of his own volition, to accompany him while he fished. He kinda came out of nowhere, though he said he lived in the nearby town and was exploring by himself when he came upon him. When he saw what Misao was doing, he fired off so many questions that Misao could barely answer any of them at all. 

Why Right decided to keep Misao company, he had no idea, but he seemed nice enough so Misao let him be. He did insist on calling him oji-san instead of onii-san, which dismayed Misao a little. He wasn’t that old, thanks very much!

They watched the river flow and Misao’s float bob in the water. The kid was evidently bored, but he didn’t say anything about it, and didn’t make any attempts at conversation. Misao wondered if he was so boring that Right was just being polite by staying with him after bugging him.

“Y’know, Right-kun-” he began to say, but then the leaves on the riverbank on their other side rustled, interrupting what they were saying. And then, they heard the distressed caws of some kind of bird, as the bushes parted to reveal-

“Poa-mph!” Misao managed to muffle Right’s outrage with his hand before he was heard. He put a finger to his lips, and Right nodded in understanding before Misao put his hand away from the boy’s face.

The poachers, who were carrying a cage with an extremely agitated bird-of-prey of some kind, didn’t seem to notice the pair of them at all, conversing quite loudly about how much their catch was going to make on the black market. Misao clenched his hand into a fist, feeling compelled to do something.

What would Yamato do, if he were here...? he wondered.

“Mister...?” Right whispered, looking at Misao. “What are we going to do...?”

Misao bit his lip. As much as he wanted to beat these guys into a pulp, he also wanted to avoid confronting them directly. And it wasn’t exactly a good idea to go charging in and leave Right undefended.

He looked at his fishing rod, still waiting for a fish to catch... And then... it hit him. Maybe... even if it can’t catch a fish... maybe it could catch a couple of criminals instead. 

“Mister?” Right said in wonder, as Misao grabbed his rod and reeled the line back in as quickly and quietly as he could manage. He took off the attention-grabbing float and bait, hooked the end of the line to itself to form a wide loop, then took a few steps back as he prepared to cast his line. 

“Oi, you two!” Misao bellowed, catching the two thugs’ attention. And, in a split second, he threw his line out, sending it flying across the river and over the poachers’ heads. “Catch this!”

The loop fell around the two thugs, and with  flick of Misao’s wrists, tightened across their torsos. Misao called on the strength of the Zyuman within him and tugged on his rod with all his might, and the two poachers yelped as they were dragged and fell, face-first, into the river. The cage with the bird fell with a clatter, which caused the shutter in front of it to spring open, and the bird wriggled out before making a quick escape into the air.

“Wow Mister!” Right cheered. “That’s some big fish you got!” he said as the poachers groaned at their loss.

Misao chuckled, ruffling Right’s head. “I guess you’re right about that.”

[a-familiar-set-of-apartments]

Tantibus is walking discretely through town... well, as discretely as a 9 foot tall lich can be. To be honest, that's a lie, he's not even trying to be discrete, he doesn't care. If someone has a problem with his presence, they can tell him to his face. His scary, smiling face. @void-of-madness((okay, decided to throw my gaster at chu ^w^ mainly intended for Seraph and Evangel, as recommended, but feel free to throw a different set of muses in there if you want, I won't mind))

As he lich moved through town, a wave of whispering followed. Doors were hurriedly pulled shut, and windows closed. Those that wandered the streets made hasty retreats into nearby alleyways. It seemed like the townsfolk weren’t too fond of monsters. Nevertheless, there was one person who stayed out. Well… one person and their very loudly protesting familiar. 

Seraph had been playing in the yard when she caught sight of Tantibus. She wasn’t quite sure what he was, and he looked sort of scary, but he didn’t seem to be hurting anyone… “Can’t we just… go over and say hi?” she asked, glancing curiously at the approaching figure. 

“No no no!” Evangel yelped, practically cawing. Her feathers were fluffed up in distress. She didn’t like the look of that… thing… and she was not about to go say hello to it. Unfortunately, Seraph was a stubborn kid. “We have to go in the house!!! It’s not safe out here!”

“Well, you can go back inside! I’m gonna say hello when it comes by!” the young sorcerer shot back, crossing her arms. “Everyone doesn’t need to be so mean to it. It hasn’t even done anything!” She gave Evangel one last defiant look before turning back to the street. If nobody else was gonna be nice to the monster, she’d just have to do it herself. 

(( @void-of-madness )) 

[thelastspeecher]

Phoenix au, coffee shop, it turns out that Phoenix flames add an interesting flavour to whatever they cook, so Ford and Fiddleford decide to open a coffee shop to help pay for things.

☕️ - coffee shop

So, a couple things about the ficlet I wrote for this prompt.  First, I went overboard.  It’s 1.7k words long.  It took me a while to build things up to the actual prompt, bc I kept getting lost in the part of the Phoenix Enchantment AU that I haven’t written as much exploring, the domesticity of the phoenixes and Ford and Fidds and Tate all living together.  Second, this ended up being more of a prequel to your actual suggestion?  Sorry, there’s no actual coffee shop, but coffee is talked about a lot, so there’s that.  I wanted to build up to the discovery of phoenix-roasted coffee beans being great.  Those things aside, I hope you enjoy it!

Send in an emoji and I’ll write a ficlet!

              “I’m done makin’pancakes!” Fiddleford shouted.  There wasan inquisitive squawk from somewhere else inside the house.  “Yes, the eggs have been put away.”  A bunch of birds immediately flew into thekitchen.  “Good mornin’, fam’ly.”  Lute landed on the kitchen counter and hummedat Fiddleford.  Fiddleford scratched thetop of Lute’s head as he counted the number of phoenixes now on varioussurfaces.  “Let’s see…where’sEmmett?  He usually-”

              “Mornin’, UncleFidds!” a voice said cheerfully from behind Fiddleford.  Fiddleford spun around.  His nephew Emmett was in the entryway of the kitchen,wearing a pair of shorts and a shirt with a dinosaur on it.  Emmett let out a wheeze.  

              “You all rightthere, Emmett?” Fiddleford asked, walking over to his asthmatic nephew.  Emmett wheezed again.  Lute squawked in distress and flew away,presumably to fetch Stan or Angie.

              “I wanted to do thehuman thing again,” Emmett mumbled. “Since Tate’s gone at school.  Ilike the fingers ‘n toes.”

              “Ya have to becareful when ya turn human,” Fiddleford said gently.  “It’s stressful fer ya.”  Footsteps thundered downstairs.  In human form, Stan rushed into the kitchen,Lute on his shoulder.  He dropped to hisknees in front of his son.

              “Here ya go,” Stansaid, handing Emmett an orange inhaler. He, Fiddleford, and Lute watched Emmett take a few puffs.  “Better?” Stan asked quietly.  Emmett nodded.  Stan let out a sigh of relief.  “Sport, remember what yer ma and I tell ya.  Don’t go downstairs as a human.  Not yet. It’s too much of a strain on ya.”

              “It’s not a strainon anyone else,” Emmett said.

              “Yer just a bitdifferent,” Stan said, standing up. Emmett leaned against Stan’s legs.

              “I don’t like it.”

              “I know, kiddo.”  Stan stroked Emmett’s brown curls.  “Ya got dealt a bad hand, and all ya can dowith it is yer best.”  Emmett noddedsilently.  Stan glanced over at thekitchen table, where Danny and Daisy were inspecting a bowl of fruit.  “Girls, I thought you were gonna do the humanthing today.”  Daisy cawed at him.

              “That’s nice,Daisy,” Emmett said.

              “What’s goin’ on?”Fiddleford asked.  Lute took off fromStan’s shoulder and landed on the table with his nieces.

              “Danny and Daisy arestayin’ bird so that Lute doesn’t feel left out.  He’s still in the ‘can only turn human duringthe full moon’ phase,” Stan answered. Fiddleford smiled.

              “Aw, that’s sweet,”Fiddleford said.  Stan pulled a chair outfrom the table.  “Uh, Stan, no sittin’ ifyer not wearin’ pants.”

              “Right,” Stan saidafter a moment.  “I’ll go do that.”  He ruffled Emmett’s hair before exiting thekitchen.  Fiddleford began to clean upthe mess from making breakfast earlier. Lute, Danny, and Daisy chirped at each other cheerfully as they grabbedtheir fruit of choice from the bowl on the table.  

              “Good morning,Fiddleford,” Ford said, entering the kitchen. The phoenixes at the table crowed at him.  “Yes, good morning to you all as well.  Where’s the coffee?”

              “In the cupboard,”Fiddleford answered.  There was astuttering hiss from the table, something he recognized as laughter.  He frowned at the table.  “What’s so funny?”  Lute crowed in a self-assured manner.  “Emmett, what’d he say?”

              “‘You’ll see’,”Emmett dutifully translated.

              “That’s ominous,”Ford muttered.  “You all right,Emmett?  Your voice is a bit breathierthan usual.”

              “Had some troubles‘cause I went down the stairs after turnin’ human,” Emmett said, taking a seatat the kitchen table.  Lute hummed athim.  Emmett hummed back and stroked Luteidly.  “Could one of ya make me somebreakfast, please?”

              “Of course,” Fordsaid.

              “I can handle it,”Fiddleford said.

              “Nonsense, Emmett’smy godson.  I’ll get him hisbreakfast.  What do you want?” Fordasked.

              “Cereal ‘n milk,please.”

              “A man of simpletastes,” Ford said, flashing a grin at Emmett. “Which milk substitute do you want today?”  Lute squawked.

              “Don’t listen toUncle Lute,” Emmett said.  “I’d likealmond milk.”

              “What did he say?”Fiddleford asked.  He opened the cupboardand grabbed the bag of coffee beans.

              “Coconut.  I don’t like coconut.”

              “Ah,” Ford said witha nod.  Fiddleford frowned at the coffeebeans.

              “Stanford…”

              “Yes?”

              “I thought we boughtthe non-roasted beans this time.”

              “We did.”

              “These are obviouslyroasted.”

              “That can’t beright.”  Ford walked over to Fiddlefordand peered over his shoulder.  “Idistinctly remember going out of my way to find the non-roasted beans.  What happened?”

              “What’s goin’ on?” avoice asked.  Ford and Fiddleford lookedover.  Angie had arrived in the kitchen,carrying her youngest child, one-year-old Emory.

              “Nothin’ big,”Fiddleford said.  “Just a minor mysteryis all.  Ford bought non-roasted coffeebeans, but these have been roasted.”

              “Oh, Lute and Standid that,” Angie said, taking a seat at the table next to Emmett.  She kissed the top of Emmett’s head.  “Yer breathin’ all right, honey?” she asked.

              “I’m fine, Ma,”Emmett protested.  “Stop fussin’.”

              “Ya got pneumoniawhen ya were just a couple days old, Emmett. I can’t help myself but worry ‘bout ya.”

              “Bah!” Emory saidenthusiastically, grabbing at Emmett’s nose. Emmett frowned at his younger sibling.

              “Quit it, squirt,”Emmett said.

              “Be nice to yerbrother,” Angie scolded.

              “Angie, what didLute and Stan do?” Fiddleford asked. Angie looked up at him.

              “Hmm?”

              “You said that Luteand Stan have something to do with why the non-roasted coffee is roasted,” Fordsaid.  

              “Oh, right.  Sorry, I got distracted.  I got too many children, ‘n they all needattention.”

              “Then ya shouldajust stopped with me,” Emmett muttered.

              “Emmett StanfordMcGucket,” Angie said in a warning tone. Emmett crossed his arms and looked away. Angie sighed tiredly.  “Back tothe issue of the coffee.  Lute ‘n Stanthink ya drink too much coffee, Ford.  Sothey tried to get rid of it.”

              “How?” Ford asked.

              “Settin’ it on fire.  But it didn’t work.  They just ended up roastin’ the beans.”  Angie frowned at Lute, who was preening himselfnonchalantly.  “I think they’re hopin’that the beans ‘re burnt or gross or somethin’. ‘Cause they seem awful proud of themselves.”

              “Who’s proud?” Stanasked, walking into the kitchen, now fully clothed.  

              “You and Lute,” Fordsaid.  Stan raised an eyebrow at him.  “Of attempting to ruin the coffee.”

              “Nah, I don’t thinkit was an attempt,” Stan said.  He openedthe fridge and took out the coconut milk. “I think it was a success.”

              “Only one way tofind out,” Ford said.

              “You really want to usethe coffee beans that our siblin’s used their weird fire magic on?” Fiddlefordasked.  

              “We don’t have anyother coffee beans anywhere in the house.”

              “Fine.”  Fiddleford dumped some of the beans into thegrinder.  He took an experimental whiffof the resulting powder.  “Hmm, it don’tsmell burnt.  Smells pretty nice.  Almost spicy.”  Fiddleford shrugged, then dumped the beansinto the coffee maker.  Stan sat at thekitchen table with his glass of milk and nudged Danny away from the bowl offruit so that he could grab a banana.  Lutecawed at him.

              “Nuh-uh.  If it didn’t work, I’m blamin’ it on you,”Stan said.  Lute ruffled hisfeathers.  “I know how to use the phoenixmagic, and yer barely gettin’ started with it.” Lute let out a small hiss.  “Language.”

              “Gnah!” Emoryshouted excitedly, slamming his pudgy fists on the table.  Angie and Stan chortled.

              “I think someonewants some breakfast,” Angie cooed.  Shegave Emory a peck on the cheek.  Fordhanded Emmett a bowl of cereal.

              “Thank you, UncleFord,” Emmett said politely.  Emorygrabbed the spoon out of Emmett’s bowl.  “Hey!”

              “Da!” Emory yelled.  Emmett glared at his sibling.

              “Shut up, Emory.”

              “Emmett, don’t talkto your brother like that,” Stan snapped. “He’s just a baby.  Be patient.”  Lute burbled something quietly.  Emmett’s jaw dropped.

              “I am not!”

              “What’d he say?”Fiddleford asked.  

              “Uncle Lute says I’mjealous of Emory bein’ the baby now.  ButI’m not!”

              “Lord,” Angiemumbled.  She sniffed the air.  “Is the coffee ready?”

              “Yes,” Ford said,already pouring himself a mug.  “Do youwant some?”

              “I do very much wantsome, but last time I had coffee, it was at undergrad, and I nearly set the labon fire from bein’ so jittery,” Angie said, bouncing Emory on her knee in anattempt to calm him down.  “‘N that waswithout fire magic.”  Daisy trilledloudly.  “No, honey, settin’ buildin’s onfire on purpose is arson, ‘n against the law.”

              “I’ll take a cup,”Stan said.  Lute squawked at him.  “Oh, yeah. Never mind.”

              “You sure, Stan?” Fordasked.  He joined the flock at thetable.  “This is excellent.”  Stan stared at him.

              “You’re joking.”

              “I’m not.  This is the best coffee I’ve ever had.  Whatever you and Lute did, it made the beansphenomenal.”  Ford took another sip ofhis drink.  “In fact, we could sell it.”

              “…What?”

              “I agree with Stan,”Fiddleford said.  “What are ya talkin’ about?”

              “Well, the aviaryhas been cutting into our expenses more lately, with Tate and Molly at college,and Lute and Emory joining the flock,” Ford said.  “Having an additional source of income,however small, would help a lot.”

              “So ya want to sellroasted coffee beans?” Angie asked.

              “Phoenix-roasted,”Ford corrected.  “It would be a smalloperation, and I doubt we could make much profit.  But enough to upgrade some of the equipmentin the aviary or pay for travel expenses at scientific conferences.”  He nodded at Stan and Lute.  “And I know that you two have been wanting tocontribute more to the household finances. We’d kill two birds with one stone.” Danny squawked loudly.  “That wasa poor choice of metaphors.  It’s awin-win.”

              “It’s yer decision,darlin’,” Angie said quietly to Stan. Stan let out a sigh.

              “I wish that thesabotage had worked.  But yeah, Lute andI ‘ll do what we can to help you nerds keep a roof over our heads.”

              “Or,” Emmettinterjected, “y’all could sell cricket cookies! Those ‘re better than coffee.”

              “I think most humanswould disagree,” Ford said.  “But that’s somethingwe can keep in the back of our minds as an additional option.”

              “Magic-roastedcoffee and cricket cookies,” Fiddleford said, shaking his head.  “Not exactly what I expected when we firstmoved to Gravity Falls.”

[selenelavellan]

Mythal

Newly Formed AU

one     two     three     four     five     six

Dirthamen, Mythal, and the Evanuris are @feynites

Selene stops dead in her tracks, hands still slightly wet from the wash.

Lady Mythal is standing in the middle of Dirthamens bedroom, staring directly at her.

Fear is nowhere to be found.

“Are you the little healer that has been causing so much strife within my family?” She asks, golden eyes glittering. “I expected someone more grand to have stolen my sons eye. I suppose he has never been capable of understanding the finer things.”

Selene swallows, shoulders straightening. “Where is Fear?” She asks.

“Far enough to allow us a conversation, not so far that they are in any sort of danger.” Mythal says, turning back towards the door.

Selene stays where she is. She is not supposed to leave. It's the one thing Dirthamen has asked of her. To keep her safe from his family, ostensibly.

“Come along child,” Mythal chides without turning. “If I were going to kill you, I could do it in this room as simply as I could in the sitting room. I have gone to the trouble of having tea prepared for us. I assure you, it is far less pleasant once it's gone cold.”

Her feet move without her permission. One after the other, until she is past the boundaries of Dirthamens personal wards. Mythals hair flows out behind her, crown shining atop her head; sharp and pointed and gleaming in the light of the day.

It reminds her of a hair piece her father once wore for an event. His had been woven with ivy enchanted to bloom at the height of the evening, as had been the fashion at the time. But the thorns had pricked her fingers even then; a danger hidden beneath the beauty and magic of the evening.

This is not so different, she thinks.

The sitting room is arranged by the time they arrive, Selene a few steps behind Mythal as the older woman gives instructions to her attendants to leave the tea and the room. There is a single small table arranged near the window, two chairs spaced just apart from each other. Flower petals are strewn around the room, filling it with a sweet scent that reminds Selene of her own garden back home.

She wonders, briefly, if that is where these were plucked from.

“Have a seat,” Mythal instructs as she takes her own and begins to pour herself a cup of tea.  Selene hesitates, but sits across from her, scooting the chair enough to add an additional foot of space between the two women. She keeps her hands firmly in her lap, waiting while Mythal manipulates her drink to her own tastes.

“So then,” Mythal begins once she is satisfied. “What is it you are looking to get from my son?”

Selene blinks.

“I...what? Nothing.”

“Oh? So you are some soft-hearted creature then, tangled in fates strings and left alone to dangle in your consequences.”

“He's my friend.”

“And how, precisely, did he earn that title? How did you, for that matter? A disgraced, young, gangly elf who was left alone in the woods to fend for herself, stumbling across one of the leaders and keeping him hidden for an entire year. I can only imagine the sorts of secrets he might have shared, to earn your loyalty.”

“I didn't even know who he was,” Selene argues. “I thought he was just a spirit that needed help. He was injured, and I tried to heal him. That's all.”

Mythal takes a small sip from her cup. “I see. He repaid your kindness with deception then. How quite like him.”

Selene chews briefly on her bottom lip. “Not-not purposely.”

“No?” Mythal continues. “I suppose he's told you all about how he managed to end up in those woods then. How he came by his injuries?”

Selene stays silent, knuckles whitening in her lap. It's a trick. She knows it's a trick.

It doesn't make the truth sting any less in her chest.

“Of course he did not,” Mythal sighs “It is against his nature to be forthcoming. Do you not wonder what else he may be keeping from you? I understand he made quite a flourish when he removed you from Sylaise. A grand re-entrance, pretending to be a protector of the smaller people. I'm sure you made for quite the damsel in distress.”

“You're acting like we planned it.”

“I'm sure you didn't,” Mythal smiles with her teeth. “But I know my son. He is using you. You will not want to be here when your usefulness has run out. He has little care for those who can not aid him in some way.”

“He must get that from his mother,” Selene retorts before she can think better of it.

Mythals eyes widen, the light from the window streaming across them just briefly before she lets out a loud laugh.

“You are a young thing, aren't you?” She says in a manner that sounds like a snarl despite a rather gentle appearance. “You might want to keep a close hold of that tongue of yours, before it falls right out of your head. Medical mishaps are your specialty, after all.”

Selenes breath stops, heart hammering loudly in her chest as Mythal continues.

“Just how many of our people were affected by your mistake again? Five? Ten?”

“Twelve,” Selene whispers, eyes darting down to the floor briefly.

“Twelve,” Mythal nods. “Several of them nearly died you know.”

“I know.” she responds quietly.

“If you had been any older, you'd have been put to death just for that,” Mythal explains. “You may have had the benefit of youth on your side back then, but when we look at the complete picture of your life now...”

“I haven't made any other mistakes,” Selene interrupts. “I've been very careful!”

“Your past hardly seems like a 'mistake' at this point. Several of our highest attendants were affected by that incident. Perhaps it was a sabotage. Just as you've sabotaged my son, now. You may have changed your name and lived in seclusion for a century, but your ineptness is still a threat to the empire.” Mythal takes another sip of her tea while Selene tries to take deep breaths. She is trying to get a rise out of her. Selene knows this, she knows this.

“I could teach you,” Mythal finally says. “If you will swear your loyalty to me, I could take you under my wing, and teach you to avoid such follies.”

“Dirthamen-”

“Will tire of you,” Mythal insists. “Whatever plan he has been using you for, it will be reaching its conclusion soon. He will tire of bickering with his siblings and see sense. You are a weakness for him, and once he has remembered himself he will discard such weaknesses. You are not the first 'friend' he has felt a fondness for. Do not be so foolish as to share their fate.”

The heavy doorway swings open, a powerful burst of energy forcing its way into the room as Fear finally flits down and out of the dreaming to rest atop Selenes shoulder.

“Mother,” Dirthamen greets as he glides into the room. “We missed you at today's meeting.”

“I am sure you managed without,” Mythal smiles at her son. “I just thought I would spend some time with your newest friend, since you seemed so taken with her.”

“Father is looking for you,” Dirthamen evades. “Andruil has returned from her hunt, and they had another argument. It would be unwise to let him continue wandering the grounds alone.”

Mythal finally rises from her chair, patting Dirthamens arm twice. “I will take care of Elgar'nan,” She assures him before turning to face Selene. “I hope you will consider my advice.”

A wave of unease washes briefly off of Dirthamen as Mythal finally strides out of the sitting room.

“What did you tell her?”

Selene blinks.

That's what he's worried about?

“I..she did most of the talking.”

Dirthamen nods.

“Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” She murmurs. “She didn't hurt me.”

“That is good,” Dirthamen sighs. He pulls an ornate mask and cloak out from beneath his own as Deceit appears wearing a matching set. “Put these on. My family is still nearby, and this will disguise you as a simple attendant until we can return to my rooms. You should not have left.”

“I didn't have a choice!” Selene snaps.

Dirthamen freezes, the air around him going slightly colder.

She sighs, dragging her hand down her face. “I'm sorry. I’m really sorry, I didn't mean to yell. Your mother didn't give me an option to stay. My feet just...followed her.”

“An old blood spell,” Dirthamen acknowledges. “We should be lucky that is all she did with it. There is a purification ritual we can perform to rid you of any lingering effects, so that she may not use it again.” He pauses, thoughtful. “Not without going to considerable trouble, at least. Though she is unlikely to do so twice.”

“How did she manage to get my blood in the first place?” Selene asks as she slips the robe over her existing clothes.

“Assuming you are waking born, it seems likely she would have retrieved it from one of your parents. The direct blood tie would be enough to extract the necessary information for the spell.”

“I'm surprised my parents would've acknowledged me long enough to give her something like that,” Selene grumbles as she places the mask on.

Then again, if Mythal herself had asked, there is very little her parents would not give up to climb the social ladder. Perhaps she should be less shocked.

Selene is silent on the walk back to Dirthamens rooms, as is Deceit. They are stopped once by a sentry, who hands Dirthamen a small scroll of some kind, but otherwise the trip is a peaceful one.

Once his bedroom doors are closed and his wards have been reinforced, Selene removes the disguise. Deceit shifts back into a large raven, and pushes their head into the palm of her hand. She rubs her hands gently against their feathers, watching as Dirthamen does a full sweep of his room.

“Did my mother tell you anything of note?” Dirthamen inquires as he settles down beside Selene on the bed.

“Not really.” Selene lies.

Deceit caws up at her, beak nipping gently at the skin of her palm.

She lets out a sigh in resignation, booping the top of their head in retribution. “She said you were using me. That I should go with her, and she could teach me to be...”she gestures vaguely. “ 'better'.”

“Do you want to?” Dirthamen asks.

“No,” Selene asserts. “I...would like to be less of a threat, but I don't think that's much of an option anymore. And I don't think becoming more like your mother would be 'better' in any sense.”

“You are not a threat,” Dirthamen says in an effort to be a reassuring.

Unfortunately, it just reminds Selene of Mythals warning that he is using her. That this is some elaborate game, and she is only one small, insignificant piece. That he plans to rid himself of her once her usefulness is up.

It is a ridiculous notion, she reminds herself as Dirthamen crawls into her lap. To think that Ethvhenas could have been some sort of...disguise. Some trick to earn sympathy points. As though he could have hurt himself before she found him.

Although...

“Dirthamen,” She asks as he places his mask down beside them, his head resting comfortably on her shoulder. “How did you end up in the woods in the first place?”

Deceit vanishes.

Dirthamen tenses.

Wings sprout out of his back, long and dark and feathered as he shudders.

“I do not know.” he tells her, mouth cold as it moves against the skin of her collar “I can not remember.”

Selenes eyes narrow slightly, her arms tightening around him.

It's probably the truth, she tells herself. He probably wouldn't lie to her. Not when he lets himself be this vulnerable.

It is not in his nature to be forthcoming.

“Ok,” Selene breathes through the weight in her chest. “I believe you.”

[bimmykimmy]

Are you the one who made that post of lumberjack!Hunk and witch!Keith, and if so is here a fic yet?

YES! I drew lumberjack!Hunk and witch!Keith and made the post of the au via twitter

oooOOOOOOOO boy I tell ya what

I….no. There is no fic. 

Actually, that’s a lie. I started one forever ago and never finished. So, what the heck! I’ll post what I have lol Entirely NOT proofread and ending with my weird plot notes that I had planned to write 

Each leaf has a story to tell, each root a tale, everycreature and critter skittering across the ground has a life of its own. Keithhad been taught this from a very young age. The trees, the wind, the decayingfoliage as the days grew colder all spoke to him.

Dayshave grown quieter with his mother gone. Keith isn’t sure when, if ever, she’llreturn. The morning she departed was cold, the autumn air biting at his skin.Her face had held a distant look, one Keith would remember strikingly in hismind for many, many days thereafter. With the wind rustling the crimson andorange leaves and her delicate hand brushing against his cheek, she was gone.

Keith kept up with his daily duties; preparing sachets,practicing incantations, burning sage in the darker parts of the woods; alongwith the less interesting things such as sweeping, making sure spider websstayed intact, pulling weeds in the garden. He made sure that the cabin waskept just the way it was the day she left.

He sitsnow on the deep maroon chaise lounge with his legs dangling over the arm rest,a weathered book in his lap. His familiar, Dærg, perches on the backrest andflutters his wings to settle into a more comfortable position. Keith looks upfrom his book and smiles while lifting his hand up to give Dærg a littlescratch with his finger.

  Thebook in his lap is a dull story, one meant probably to tell of some biggermoral by the end of it. Keith isn’t too invested in it and promptly snaps itshut. The noise reverberates off the walls of the house, solidifying just howempty it has become. He needs to find more supplies soon. He’s probably runningout of food too.

 Goinginto town is always a chore, and one that Keith has never been too fond of.

 “Iguess I can’t live off of chai and raspberries forever, can I?” He asks Dærgwho merely peers down at him momentarily before tending to some feathers on herwing.

Keithlets out a sigh and plops the book down on the wooden floor. The sun is justabout to go down and its rays bleed out against the dusk sky, orange floodinginto his room through the window. Just as he gets out of his chair, Dærgsuddenly caws loudly, agitated. She outstretches her wings and flaps them oncethen twice, hopping around on the backrest. Her little crow feet leave tinymarks in the maroon fabric.

 Hetilts an eyebrow at her, “What’s your problem?”

 But hehas is answer before his question finishes.

Hesenses it; the disturbances in the woods, the distressed cries of the treespirits. He makes his way to his window, placing his hands on the sill andpeers out the window. The shift of winds is indicative of unease. Something isnot right. Keith feels the air around him grow sour too, like everything is onedge, irritated. He has never felt anything quite like it. It doesn’t feeldangerous, just…curious.

Hepurses his lips in thought just before deciding to investigate. Turning on hisheel, he grabs his cowl and quickly wraps it around his shoulders beforeheading out of his cabin.

Thedusk air is chilled as the wind sweeps the leaves on the ground. Keith pressesa hand to his forehead, pinning his bangs out of his eyes. He’s regretting notgrabbing a hat now, but he wants to get to the bottom of whatever thisdisturbance is.

Hetravels barely an acre before he senses it again. That odd unrest in the woods;something unthreatening but definitely not supposed to be there. After a whilehe notices one of the talismans he had laid out a few days back has beenwrecked. The broken twigs and disturbed foliage around it are a telltale signof something big plowing through these pathways.

Keithkneels down and narrows his eyes, fingers delicately caressing bits of his worknow ruined. He isn’t going to deny the surge of annoyance that currently filledhim. He works hard on these things! His mother always taught him that they wereimportant to keep the balance in the woods—the spirits of the trees likedhaving them there.

It isjust then he hears a large cracking noise. It startles him, though barely, andhe looks up suddenly towards the echoing sound. The sun still slowly sinks intothe sky, now a brilliant gradient of oranges and purples. Keith stands up, pocketingsome bits of the talisman, and heads over to the clearing in the trees.

Hisfootsteps are light, tentative. He isn’t sure what is beyond the treeline so hemustn’t be too hasty. The trees aren’t too bare yet, so he can’t quite seewhat’s in the clearing. When he finally pushes past some of the brush a gaspescapes him.

Thelarge man has his back turned to Keith. Keith stares at him for a bit. He hason a large flannel with the sleeves rolled up, and in his hands he wields arather impressively sized ax. The man turns, his face now in profile and hiseyes seem to glisten with an odd determination Keith finds rather…attractive.He feels himself gulp. Just as soon as these intrusive thoughts enter his mind,however, they promptly dispel as the man lifts his massive ax once again. He’sabout to bring it down on a tree (that from what Keith can see, has alreadysuffered some damage) when Keith pushes past the remaining brush and rushesinto the clearing.

“Whatthe hell are you doing?!” He makes ab-line towards the man, who appears to be confused more than startled by hissudden outburst.

 The manturns towards Keith and lowers his ax. His eyebrows are up to his hairline andhis lips begin to form questioning words. Keith cuts him off by bending down andsnapping back up with part of a ripped sachet in his hand. He positions thissachet directly at the man, shaking it pointedly in his face as he speaks.

“You’reruining all my hard work!” He scoffs again as his eyes catch another ruinedpiece. He mumbles as he squats down to pick it up. “Can’t believe this. Of allthe rude, inconsiderate—”

 “Whatare you doing this far out in the woods?” The man’s voice comes as a surprise.It isn’t rough, but it does have a sort of husky tone to it. That ax looks sosmall in his massive hands, Keith notices. He pulls his gaze away and sets hisexpression back to annoyance.

It israther unsuccessful; if the man’s tilted eyebrow and smirk is any indication.

Keithhuffs and turns a cold shoulder, picking up more of his ruined work.

 Hehears the crunching of leaves as the large man rounds him, leaning and peeringover Keith as he crouches. “Y’know, these woods are dangerous.”

Keithstands and realizes just how close he is to the stranger. So close and holyshit this man is huge. Despite thishilarious difference in size, Keith does not falter in his actions. He pointsright in the man’s face, to which the man’s eyes cross ever so slightly, and grumbles,“I am what makes these woodsdangerous.”

To anyonlooker (which there are none) the pose is rather amusing. A smaller, thoughnot incapable, witch pointing an angry finger in the face of a bulginglumberjack holding an ax in his calloused hands.

   Thestranger blinks and smiles. The expression is somewhat a mix of sheepishnessand…is that flirtation? No, it’s confusion.

“Getout of my woods,” Keith threatens as he promptly turns and stomps back out ofthe clearing.

–

Keithmakes his way back through the woods, grumbling and picking up bits of brokentalismans. The large buffoon must’ve been stomping through the trees for hours before Keith noticed! He would dobetter next time; keeping his senses entirely honed on the woods. The woods arehis responsibility. Once under the protection of his mother, and now his. It ishis duty to keep them safe from the townsfolk. They are much too sacred tosimply have those disrespectful mouth breathers pillaging through them everytime they got a little cold and needed fire. They simply cannot tell thedifference between a tree whose spirit is still attached and one that isacceptable to cut down. Keith remembers his mother’s ghastly screams when thelast woods they lived in had been entirely burnt down due to a lazy guardsmanwho’d fallen asleep while holding a torch. Keith tries forgetting the pain onher face, but he knows he cannot forget the rage. The raw power that emanatedfrom her at that time is enough to give Keith shivers now. He was so youngthen. He hardly remembers, or perhaps doesn’t want to, what she did to thosetownsfolk.

 With hisreverie successfully distracting him, he takes a roundabout way back to hiscabin. He double checks many areas in the woods to make sure his other workshave not been disturbed. Luckily, the large man must’ve taken a straight pathin the woods from the clearing nearest town. Keith clicks his tongue inannoyance and readjusts the cowl over his shoulders as he places remnants ofhis ruined charms on a barrel next to his front door. He’ll make more later.Now he has to worry about his dwindling supplies.

As soonas he turns the knob on his old wooden door and pushes it in with someresistance, Keith hears a whistle not far behind him. His spine goes straight andhis eyes widen. His whole body snaps around and reveals the stranger standingjust beyond the small stone path that leads to his front door.

 “Thisis beautiful,” The stranger says as his eyes scan Keith’s house. “You know, Ihelped my father craft a cabin not too different from this once. The archedroof above the front door isn’t too popular anymore.”

Keithis speechless. His jaw slackens; mouth opening agape as he blinks owlishly athim. In an attempt to form words, he blinks again and shakes his head ever soslightly. His lips begin to form into “Wh—”

“Do youlive here?” He asks and starts coming up to Keith. “You’re not the only onehere, are you? Isn’t it lonely?”

Hisfootsteps were much softer than before, barely audible against the stone path.As he came closer, Keith felt a sudden rush of panic.

What ishe doing here? Why did he follow Keith? Keith has never had anyone come to hiscabin. No one really knows where it is! Or at least, no one is supposed to know. That is one of therules his mother had established after leaving their last home. Why had he beenso careless and not made sure the stranger didn’t follow?!

Keithbacks away and is suddenly stumbling into the threshold of his house. Any traceof intimidation is quickly lost as his heart races at the idea of his large manentering his house too.

 “Y-youcan’t be here!” Keith suddenly spouts, regaining some stability. There is awarmth on his face that confuses him, but he ignores it for now and simplyfurrows his brow as best he can.

 Thestranger stops in his tracks. “Oh,” He says, and his voice has an air to itthat makes Keith shiver. “No?” His expression changes only slightly. His aurais anything but threatening. Ifanything, it is innocently curious. He obviously wants to press further.

Keithretaliates. “N-no you can’t. So, leave!” He senses the lack of authority in hisvoice and so does the stranger.

Hetakes a step closer, putting his ax down and lifting his hands in surrender.“It’s just…you have such a lovely place here. I thought I could…well, with yourpermission. Can’t I just—”

 “No!” Keithtakes one large step back and reaches out to the door, slamming it shut with aloud bang.

Hestands there leaning back against the door for what feels like an eternity. Hiswide eyes stare down at the floor. Eventually he brings a hand up to his chest,pressing his palm softly against it and feeling the insane fluttering of hisheart.

The sunis just barely dipping into the horizon, painting the sky a brilliantly darkpurple as the stars begin to pepper its wide canvas. Keith takes a steadybreath, shifting to the side to peer out the window.

Thestranger is gone but there is something written on the small patch of dirtwhere Keith had been having trouble growing grass. He squints and leans forwardto try and read it. Doing this, however, only makes him bump his head againstthe glass and he grunts. He leans away from the window sill and rubs hisforehead for a moment before glancing at the door.

 Thecool autumn air is only slightly shocking as Keith opens the door and pokes hishead out. His eyes shift left and right, surveying the tree line. He doesn’tsense any disturbance in the woods anymore and finally steps out of hisdoorway. He usually doesn’t take so much precaution, but he feels like thestranger is still there. Or rather…maybe he hopes the stranger is still there.It had been so long since Keith interacted with anyone other than a few mumblesto the farmers and artisans he occasionally bought supplies from.

Thereis a stick off to the side not far from the written message.

“Sorry!”Is all it says.

–

 Hunkcan’t get that man from the woods out of his mind.

 Theeee end.

here are the notes I wrote:

Keith is the blair witch?? Sets up spooky things to keeppeople away from the woods

Ambiguous time/setting, but there are definitely witch hunts

Hunk gets cursed because he keeps messin up shit in thewoods

It was keith’s mom who cursed him