#they’re all lil woodland creatures

[jays-doodle-spool]

the designs for these characters do not do justice to the chaos of the campaign

they’re perfect

[forgottenlittlejun3bu6]

I HATE STUART LITTLE

Alrighty, let’s me break down why Stuart Little is a menace to society, a lil bitch, and worst of all, a RAT. 1. This rat's got privilege. This tiny rat really pulled up to an adoption center and got picked over literal human children. Like, dude.. The family took one look at the lineup of actual kids and went, “Nah, let’s roll with the small rat in a turtleneck.” Peak nepotism, he's literally a trust fund baby in rodent form. 2. He’s a walking menace to society. Stuart is out here driving cars, flying planes, and breaking every law in the Geneva Convention while I can barely afford gas money. Who gave this RAT a license?? He’s out here committing vehicular manslaughter, and nobody’s saying a thing ‘cause he’s “cute.” If you or I did that, it’s jail time. 3. Not even a cool mouse. If Stuart ever had to square up with Remy from Ratatouille, it wouldn’t even be close to fair. Remy's a street rat, Remy would absolutely clobber Stuart. Remy’s from the streets—he knows hard work and built himself up from nothing to run a successful restaurant. Meanwhile, Stuart’s just been handed everything on a silver platter, never working for anything in his life. Stuart’s not only soft, he’s a fake lil’ bitch who wouldn’t last a second in the real world.

4. The poor human kid. Imagine being the kid in Stuart Little and your parents sit you down, all excited, saying they’re getting you a new sibling. You’re thinking, “Cool, maybe a little brother or sister to hang out with.” But then they come home with a rat who can drive a freaking convertible. Like, excuse me? How do you explain that to your friends? “Yeah, this is my brother, Stuart. He’s a mouse.” How the fuck are you supposed to compete with a talking rat?? 5. Useless in general. Why the hell did they let a 2-inch rat join a soccer team? Realistically, What’s Stuart gonna do, sneak in and steal the ball??? The only thing he’d be good for is providing a really entertaining halftime show while he gets absolutely clobbered on the field by a bunch of kids chasing after a ball. One wrong move and this little fucker is getting trampled 6. I wish he drowned. Honestly, Stuart should’ve just drowned in the washing machine. That's all I gotta say about this part. 7. How does he have a more interesting life than literally anyone to ever exist?? Seriously, how the fuck does this rat have a more interesting life than me? I’m over here just trying to make it through the day, and meanwhile, Stuart is out here cruising around in a convertible, going on wild adventures, and making friends with birds and other woodland creatures, AND HE'S RICH. Like, what kind of fairy tale bullshit is this?

I rest my case.

[dreamkenn]

birthday moments

a series of lil drabbles about birthdays & gifts they get you a mini fleshed out sequel to the head cannons here! from this ongoing ask game, it is pure fluff for bakugou, hawks, aizawa, kirishima & sero based around an event on your birthday or a little slice of life moment about a gift they got you! all are for an established relationship with gn!reader

katuski bakugou: 

    the tired light of the setting sun floods your apartment as you get home, walking through the space and slowly, the understated relief of finally taking your shoes off in a food coma induced bliss. It’s only as you hear an all too familiar “c’mere”, grunted at you from the doorway. you look back to see your boyfriend, slowly ridding himself off combat boots. as you approach you see him holding your old polaroid camera, and before you can begin to ask, as a defined arm tugs you into his side. Looking up with mild curiosity, your greeted with the familiar feeling of a kiss pressed into your hair as a smile ghosts across your face. the little bliss is whipped away with a small jump at the unfamiliar sensation of a flashing light, accompanied by the quiet whirring of the camera shocking you into another few seconds of silence.

     “what was that about?”, you ask out loud still looking up at him, now thoroughly nestled into his side.

    “it’s ya birthday isn’t it?” is said back, after a few moments, as bakugou unattached you and steps through the hallway to where you’ve placed the birthday card from him earlier this morning. placing the now developed photo neatly inside

keigo takami ~ hawks: 

   it’s not infrequent that you find yourself flying through the sky in hawks’ arms, though it often marks the end the work – your personal hero chaperoning you home after a long day, or interrupted dates and moments flying you to safety before he can turn to save the city.

   today’s special, the air feels different here, flying seems even more weightless. today as the skyline merges into the gentle rolling hills and clouds which you too so effortlessly dance through, you see the world seem to open out in front of you. most importantly you see a day together with one too many birthday puns and your heart soars with joy

shota aizawa ~ eraserhead:

   you don’t notice him get home, unsurprisingly really, but it allows aizawa it indulge in one of his favourite hobbies. not people watching, watching you, seeing curled up on his couch the cats spread across your feet & anywhere you would hope to stand up, it brings him such peace. the cats are truly more concentrated than usual, it’s only as he breaks from the little moment of found comfort- watching the person (and cats) he loves most, he see’s the tips of your heated slippers peaking out from amongst the pile of cats.

   when he got you them for your last birthday, you’d joked that they were more a gift for the cats. it might have turned out to be a gift for them as well, but if it means he gets to come home to see you all curled up together, he’ll buy you another pair next year and the year after

eijiro kirishima:

   he got you socks! It was part a joke but also a gift out of concern for your circulation in winter :o they’re very nice socks as far as sock gifts go, good material with a repeating pattern of your favourite animal. it’s a few weeks later as the socks fade into your everyday life that you notice it. meandering round the kitchen together, on a far to early morning, he’s got the same socks for himself too. as you sway dancing around the half-made cereal, toes covered in knitted woodland creatures, easily dodging, and stepping around your own. a second miniature dance happening between the knitted animals on your feet

 hanta sero:

  as you arrive home, shoes pulled off with some commotion as the little cardboard crown fell from you’re head. You glance over to see you boyfriend, the doggie bags filled with cake left unceremoniously across the couch, as he makes a b line for your bookshelf. easily reaching the latest photo album, it was a rather dramatic thing- rectangular, to large to even fit normally on a bookshelf. a little peace of tape, carefully placed marked the point you’d filled up to. as he eagerly gestures for you to come over removing the collection of polaroid’s and photo rolls from today celebrations. 

  it’s a tradition now, second to the gathering of your friends for dinner, that you’ll find yourself here, curled up together in one of your armchairs. engaging in humour filled debates on whether or not there should be an entire page designated to rouge selfies taken by denki and mina, or they should be interspersed with the photo of you all smiling over lunch followed by a clear decision that the uncharacteristic look on bakugou s face as he enjoys the first bite of someone else’s cooking should get it’s own page. eventually adding another year’s  photo of you two recreating the same cheesy pose to the inside cover, this albums almost full. it’s how you spend the last hours of your birthday and after- the clock struck midnight long ago- making and remaking on memories curled up together

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 6- Betrayer Moon

Summary: Temeria holds a beast that has been said to have slaughtered many. With the sweet sound of coins offered you’re ready for another wild hunt.

Warnings: lil smut we starting out with, gore and blood as per usual, fluff 

Masterlist

Outside the winds are cold and snowy as the night cascades its great darkness over the land of the Continent. But none of that holds any kind of significance as you lay in the warm bed of a village tavern, Geralt's muscular body pressing flush against your heated skin. You hold tightly onto the tousled bed sheets as he thrusts into you over and over again, nothing but the sweet sounds of his grunts and your pleasant moaning filling the darkly lit room but for a simple fire in the hearth.

He deliciously rocks you into the mattress as he gently kisses your sweaty temple, sending bolts of electricity coursing throughout your entire being as you await your building climax. With each new thrust of Geralt's manhood into your entrance, you try and hold back a scream but to no avail. He quickly silences you with a heated kiss, both of your tongues dancing in the dark with one another as he pushes your legs apart even more, his large body taking you all in.

He's a lot to handle but you can take it, no matter what he throws at you. Soon he's a moaning mess as he dumps his load into your clenching walls, hitting your own high just the same, you suddenly claw at his back as he pumps himself into you a couple more times before slowly leaning up to take a good look at your blissfully beautiful face. He gently pulls out of you, falling onto the bed at your side as the both of lay in silence, the only viable sounds coming from your heavy breaths and the crackling of the fireplace.

"So, I heard something interesting today." You begin, turning on your side to lean yourself into his chest as he stares at the ceiling, a satisfied smirk gracing his handsome features.

"Do tell." He quietly mumbles.

"I was conversing with some of the whores by the market today, asking about what interesting creatures have met their eyes and whatnot. When wouldn't you know it, another Witcher had come through this very village." He raises an eyebrow, curiosity catching his interest quick, "Said he fled Temeria with some miners coin when his ass was supposed to be killing their monster. I think foul play." You inquire, absentmindedly running your fingers over his battle scars, Geralt's intrigued by your words but is honestly enjoying himself too much to care about anything else at the moment.

Sighing in deep content he shifts his golden gaze onto you, "Tonight I will blissfully ignore my problems." He muses, closing his eyes as you continue to lightly trail your fingers against his skin, "Just uh...keeping doing that." A drunken smile gracing his sweaty face, as you break out into a grin while your eyes fully take in his glistening muscular form that's laying butt-ass naked right next to you. Oh, how did you get so lucky with a man like him?

The rest of the night is spent inside one another here and there, until you both fall asleep in an exhausted heap of tangled limbs and messy blankets. The next morning you two get dressed and head for Temeria, Geralt wisely leaving Roach with the stable boy until you both come back to retrieve her, whenever that may be.

The hike to Temeria went rather smoothly, no one to bother you and the cold of the winter weather doing nothing to freeze you, considering you're practically immune to feeling cold, another wondrous perk of being half vampire.

As you walk out of the shadowy woodland you look up to see a large abandoned castle stout upon the top of a rocky hill, thick forest surrounding it. Looking ahead you notice as the trail suddenly dives into the earth, lamps held up by steel poles guiding the way in, but before this you stop to read over a poster pinned to a wooden pole.

"Temeria, realm of monsters and cowardly kings." You turn to Geralt with an amused smirk upon your face, "Well it's nice to know they don't hold anything back." You laugh before turning to walk down the descending trail, Geralt smiling as he watches you go.

Your time in the mines was a quick one, the miners and the kings men on the verge of a tiny battle that was stopped by Geralt's calm inquisition. The high guard or whoever the fuck, lead you and your Witcher out of the mines and into the shadowy snow covered woods, you're guessing with interior motives but nonetheless you follow.

As you're walking next to Geralt, with the kingsmen on their steeds to either side of you; all of a sudden you catch the scent of another being lurking in the shadows. Another heartbeat thudding in the night, then not even ten seconds later do the guards fall from their horses, enchanted by some sleeping spell. Geralt quickly pulls out his silver sword as you bare your opened hands, emitting crackling purple lighting from your fingertips, this is sorcery at play and you know just how to fight it if need be.

"You can put down your sword...and calm your lightning. I'm not here to hurt you." Speaks a woman's calm voice, her shadowed silhouette walking into view.

"Says the witch hiding in the woods." Mutters Geralt defensively, sword still held out in front of him as you slowly lower your hands, dissipating away the lightning. You can tell this mage has come with no ill intent, even if you don't adherently feel very fond of such beings, you're wise enough to understand that not all are terrible.

"Sorceress." Corrects the curly haired woman.

"Witch." He growls darkly, you lightly touch him on the shoulder, silently asking him to calm is unneeded anger, he slowly brings his sword to his side.

"Triss Merigold. I serve King Foltest." She serenely replies. A simple mage.

"So he makes a show of kicking us out...then sends his errand girl to slip me some coin so we kill his monster." Proclaims Geralt smartly, believing he's just figured her out.

"Not a very original plan for a king." You add, your brows furrowing in thought.

"It's my plan. My coin. And I don't want you to kill the beast. I want you to help me save it." Assures Triss.

"Save it?" You ask.

Wanting to hear more she takes you both into her area within the castle where she goes into more detail about the happenings in the woods. Geralt leans against a counter as you sit on a wooden table, the both of you facing Triss who stands by a desk and chair directly in front of you.

"Six years ago, stable hands statred vanishing at the castle above the city. Before long, citizens were disappearing throughout all Temeria. Foltest's royal guards soon realized the creature was coming from the crypt where the king's sister Adda is buried. Rumor has it she was having an affair with a young man in town when she died."

oh the drama, you wanted to laugh when she said that but wisely chose against that.

"Was she pregnant?" You finally ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. Maybe that's why this beast is killing people?

"If she were, that would make her child the sole heir to the throne as Foltest never married." Explains Triss as her expression changes to a thoughtful one, "The king fled the castle, ignoring the rising death toll. After Nilfgaard overthrew their king, the Brotherhood couldn't risk it happening again, so they sent me here three months ago to cure the creature."

"Vukodlaks are freak mutations." Says Geralt, mind reeling with what this creature truly is.

"They can't be cured." You add as Triss' brows furrow, "A vukodlak is a type of mutated werewolf, its a beast that conceptualizes in the womb of a dead woman, this woman however must be pregnant. It's rare, but it happens."

"How strange, maybe if I take you to the creatures latest victim then you might have some understanding as to what it actually is."

"Worth a try."

Triss leads you and Geralt through the pre-burial section under the castle where all the dead lay awaiting their final home in the ground. The place reeks of death, spices to mask the dead smell, and too many salts and herbs doing their part to delay the decomposition process.

"Two thousand orens if either of you can tell me what exactly killed these people." Says Triss as all three of you scan over the cloaked bodies laying on wooden tables.

"You didn't want the people to know that it bested a Witcher. And you let them believe that he fled with their coin." Mutters Geralt.

"You two clearly weren't acquainted." At the end of the long cavernous room does she stop at a stone tub of white salt and sand, you can smell the dead man underneath. You walk past both of them before standing in front of the tub.

Taking a breath, you reach down to wipe away the white sand until the caved in chest of the fallen Witcher is revealed. You stick your hand inside the opened chest cavity to gather a mental image of what could be missing. You look over at a curious Geralt, "His hearts missing along with his liver."

"Only one creature I know is that picky an eater. A striga." Explains Geralt while you remove your wandering hand from within the broken rib cage to wipe it off on your pants. You then turn back around to face Triss and Geralt, noting how the mages face begins morphing into that of befuddlement.

"Strigas are old wives' tales." She replies, not completely sure of herself.

You shrug, "They're very rare as are the vukodlak, but they can happen. However the only way to make one is through a curse." You add, crimson eyes trailing over the mutilated body of the dark haired Witcher. So this is really what became of that other Witcher, better him then Geralt, nonetheless he fought bravely.

"Someone wanted Adda dead." Realizes Triss as Geralt hums in agreement.

"But the curse didn't stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster." Triss' head tilts in surprised puzzlement at your troubling knowledge.

"Her daughter?"

"Strigas are female. This striga's a princess." Concludes Geralt with a sigh, his gaze searching for your own perplexed expression as you turn around to face him and Triss who still looks rather disturbed.

"Well then, lets see if this king of yours is willing to let us help." You quip at Triss as you begin leading the way out of the large burial room. "Can't be that difficult now can it?"

——

"Miss Merigold, you were dispatched to settle a family affair, not to enlist a mutant mercenary and a rouge hybrid for a game of sleuthing." Argues one of the kings guardsmen as King Foltest hungrily rips apart a turkey leg, rather disgustingly if you're being honest. He even smells of meat and sweat.

"This is no game, Captain. Tonight is a full moon, Geralt and Y/N have already proved themselves to be invaluable. We believe we can cure the creature." Implores Triss urgently as she vouches for you, Geralt, and her pertinent point at hand. You just lean yourself against the rooms wallpaper as Geralt stands next to you, feeling a bit doubtful that she'll be able to convince any of them.

"You say she's a girl. Then you will refer to her as Her Royal Highness." Directs the kings guard before his other man, who instructed for you and Geralt to leave Temeria only yesterday, walks over to give his two cents.

"Segelin." He says introducing himself before continuing, "I believe urgency warrants flexibility in a court decorum. The Witcher's theory is nonsense. Princess Adda was the people's angel. Who'd wish to murder her?" Implores the man Segelin as his eyes wander over to you and then to Geralt, eyeing you both suspiciously.

"What about her lover?" You inquire, folding your arms over your leather armored chest.

"Seditious rumors. Idle courtesans trading out boredom for jealousy." Quickly replies the kings guardsman giving you a distasteful look.

"Perhaps if you'd call off your guards, if we were able to search the abandoned castle, we could find clues as to who cursed her." Explains Triss, attempting to convince the king. That's not a bad idea.

"Except, these two monster hunters would kill the princess as she sleeps, and collect the miners' coin." Argues Segelin as you simply roll your crimson eyes at the grey bearded man. What's got water up his breeches?

"Call her a princess. Call her a unicorn if you'd like to." Begins Geralt, "She grew inside Adda, feeding on her petrified womb."

"Have you no respect?!" Shouts the guardsmen defensively, the king just continues his gruesome assault on his turkey leg as he listens.

"Mutating. Growing for years till she got so hungry..." Geralt steps closer, the guardsmen laying a quick hand upon the hilt of his sheathed sword as Geralt continues unfazed, "she was forced to slither out. Rotten muscle, bent bones, two spidery legs, claws dragging in the dirt." You watch in satisfaction as the kings eyes flash with disgust. You've got him.

"An overgrown abortion." You add shrewdly, pushing yourself off of the wall as you walk next to the long table, the kings face cast down in deep thought as the other men throw you nasty glares.

"Enough." He snaps, setting down his half eaten leg of turkey.

"Your Highness?" Begins the loyal concerned guardsmen.

"Leave." Growls the king menacingly, his men nodding before making their way for the door, Triss, Geralt, and you following.

Opening up the door first, Geralt politely opens it, offering his hand for the others to follow out, you giving him a wink as you tail the guardsmen who's last to leave. As soon as you reach the doors entrance you quickly shove the guardsmen into the hallway before Geralt quickly shuts the doors on all of them, making sure to lock it as they shout their angry protests.

You listen to the pounding on the wood as you calmly walk past Geralt to the right side of the long table, leaning your hand onto the clothed wood as he casually rests an arm over a great oaken chair, opposite of the king.

"Who's the princess' father?" Immediately asks Geralt with a curious tilt of his head, the king glaring bitterly.

"My men will kill you two, bastards." He warns darkly, Geralt pulls his arm away from the chair to slowly approach him, you standing your ground while he walks past you.

Eyeing up the plump king, you slowly drag your fingers over the wood while taking small steps closer, "Your threats don't shake me, but it's funny...you learn your sister was murdered, and you didn't even flinch." Your sly remark has the king's eyes staring daggers at his roast turkey, while Geralt hums in agreement, walking himself towards a window before turning around to lean himself on a wooden cabinet as he faces the king.

"But the moment I mention the girl's father.." King Foltest purses his lips together, his eyes downcast onto the floor, "Why were you never married?" Questions Geralt smoothly, the king lets out a sigh as he leans back into his chair.

"You are speaking to a king." He proclaims with no heat is in his words, other then something else that he seems to be hiding from you both.

"That's exactly my point. Why not produce your own heir? Why not kill the striga and avoid this revolt? Why drag this all out?" Suggests Geralt, his brows furrowing together at the strange reason for everything that's happened. You walk over closer to the king, his beady eyes following you the whole time, you've already figured out the possible truth. And why must it be so disgusting too?

Raising an eyebrow, you reveal a small smirk to the glaring king, "Between the three of us, and I would dare not tell...who is the striga's father?" King Foltest appears to want to say something, almost willing to answer your question. But instead he looks to the window as he slowly rises from his seat, bringing his gaze back over to Geralt.

"I remember hearing stories about Witcher's when I was a child." He says, voice low and gravely while eying up Geralt, turning his sullen gaze upon you now, "And that of dhampirs. Is it true what they say? That you're neither living nor dead, unkillable but for silver?" Sneers the sweaty king, anger emitting from his every word, "That the mutations that grant Witcher's their...abilities. Also erase your emotions? Must be." He criticizes sharply eyeing the two of you with hate, "Cause only a person devoid of all heart could accuse a brother of bedding his murdered sister while urging him to kill her." Suddenly the doors burst open, a small handful of yelling guards racing in with their weapons bared, you don't even flinch as a second later the king throws a hand into the air, silently commanding them to halt.

He turns to you then back to Geralt, "Leave Temeria. Never return." His command is noted as Geralt gives him a nod before turning to walk out the door. You follow suit and smile at a nervous guard who looks like he might have just shit himself. The both of you silently walk out of the castle, deciding to make a new plan of attack.

——

Crouching on the roof of the abandoned castle as the wind and snow blows past your face, you slowly crawl closer to the front gates. Where two incredibly anxious guards converse about how much longer their post is until they may leave. Quietly you pull out a loose piece of the castles roofing, before chucking it into the direction of a crow where the bird and the ceiling make a loud rackety noise as they take off elsewhere. To your utter satisfaction the two nervous guards yell and book it down the cobblestone pathway and away from the castle.

Well that was easy enough.

Pleased with your harmless mischievousness, you decide to find your own way into the castle while Geralt takes the front entrance. You find a broken rotting part in the roofs wooden beamed structure where you then purposefully slip through, falling down to the floor, catching yourself at the very last moment as you levitate your body the rest of the way for a silent and painless landing.

The castle smells of mystery and dead rats as you walk quietly throughout the gloomy thing, suddenly your ears pricking to the sounds of Geralt and Triss rummaging around in someone's room down the hall. With a smirk upon your lips you stalk closer, listening to them speak about letters from Adda's mother as they both begin walking for the door.

As soon as you catch sight of Triss' oblivious face do you finally make yourself known, turning your skin the color of bluish pale grey, the whites of your eyes turning to black as your scarlet irises practically glow red. You hiss, baring your pearly white fangs, her face contorts into pure dreadful fear as she lets out a surprised scream. Geralt suddenly rushing to her side, his magic at the ready before his concerned face slackens to throw you an amused glare.

Cackling you turn back into your more presentable self, "You two find anything?" You wheeze as Triss gathers her bearings.

Breathing heavily she practically stares daggers at you, "Oh yes, just a fucking heart attack!" She breathlessly retorts, throwing you a harsh glare as Geralt walks past her. The corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk as he catches your entertained gaze, you smiling back at him like a fool in love.

"You're an ass." She mutters, shaking her head at you while she follows Geralt down the dreary shadowed hallway. An enthralled grin upon your beaming features as you tail behind them.

——

Once back inside Triss' lair of sorts within the castle walls, unbeknownst to King Foltest, the three of you let Segelin in on what they found in the ruined castle. He stands, eyes cast onto the letters, "A Queen Mother cursing her own children for their affair." He plops the old papers onto a table, "This could destroy the throne." He says dismally while leaning, both hands pressed to the wooden table.

"Sancia wanted Adda to get rid of the child." Says Geralt, concluding all that appears to be written down in those letters between Adda and her Queen Mother.

"It seems she refused. Repeatedly." Adds Triss while you all stare at the back of the man.

Segelin sighs, "And now she's taken that curse with her to the grave."

Triss clasps her hands together, "You've served the family for decades. Was Sancia involved in dark sorcery of any kind?"

He turns to look at her, "No. Of course not." His expression reveals no faults, yet you feel something is not right here. He's not nearly surprised enough about all of this.

Touching a dangling green plant that hangs out over a wooden cupboard, you raise a brow at him, "What was your relationship to Adda?"

He rests his hands casually against the long desk behind him, "Well, I like to think that she saw me as a confidant." He smiles, "And a protector, even. We used to talk at great length about her troubles. She could be very naïve."

"She ever mention her brother?" Asks Geralt from his place by the wall, a foot or so away from you and Triss' plants.

Segelin looks down at the letters, "Certainly not like this."

"She was ashamed." Says Triss as Segelin turns to face her.

"Or she was frightened. What if the relationship was not.." He pauses a moment like he can't even bring himself to say it, his eyes trail over the three of you, "..consensual?"

Geralt hums in thought at this indeed interesting bout of information, he looks to Segelin, "You think he raped Adda, then cursed the child to cover it up?"

"Well, kings have done more for less."

Geralt's eyes fall elsewhere, "True." He mutters as you mull over everything previously said. This doesn't sit right with you at all.

You take a step away from the plants, "There's only one wrinkle, though." Both Triss and Geralt watch as you stand almost threateningly in front of Segelin, they have not a clue what you're doing. The greying man eyes you nervously, you narrow your eyes at him, "Your scent was on her sheets."

Triss takes a step foreward, "Y/N?"

Your crimson eyes never leave him once, "Old ones...and new ones."

He leans away from you, "What would I be doing in a dead girl's bed?" He accuses, face shifted into a repulsed grimace. You lean in closer so that your mouth remains mere inches from his ear, he's visibly uncomfortable.

"I smelt what you were doing."

You move backwards to stand in from of the conflicted man, he says not a single word as you patiently wait for him to break. The moment lasts a couple seconds more, you can hear how loud his heart is pounding within his chest. His lip quivers, breathing increasing with anxiousness, "Foltest had no right!" Shouts the angered man while you scowl and step away, "He seduced Adda! Abused his position. He was always nagging her for attention. Always nagging! But he didn't love her....I did."

"You cursed the woman you loved?" Denounces Triss like a disappointed mother.

Segelin shakes his head, "I cursed Foltest, not her."

"Countless are dead because of your jealousy."

"Countless are dead because of Foltest!" Protests Segelin, "He spoiled Adda with his seed. He refuses to kill this striga. He lies to his people. And yet you wag your finger in my face."

"If you wanted him to suffer, you could have just exposed the affair." Counters Triss while the three of you stare down the heated man.

"And hurt Adda?" He says softly, "Never. Her memory will not be sullied, not while I'm alive to protect it." Geralt glances from you to him.

"Tell us how to lift the curse."

Segelin pauses a moment before looking defiantly up at your Witcher, "No. Foltest will watch as Temeria turns against him. Just as he turned Adda against me." Geralt hums in response.

Fed up with his excuses you walk up to him, he slightly cowers back before keeping straight again, a snobby expression upon his greying features before you crack him across the temple. Sending him falling to the ground in an instant as he plunges into unconsciousness.

"Y/N." You turn to face Triss.

"What? You were all thinking it."

——

Waiting atop the crumbling castle roof where this striga is soon to be, you watch from above as Geralt and King Foltest speak about how you and him will handle the princess. He gives the king Renfri's brooch as a gift for the princess incase Geralt does not live to see the light of day. You watch the king and his men finally leave, letting Geralt enter the dying castle as he looks up towards the roof for a second before turning his gaze for the wooden doors.

Taking the same route as earlier in the day, you soon find yourself in Adda's room. Segelin tied pathetically to the wooden beams of the dead princess' bed as your unwilling captive. Geralt brooding by the window as he thinks of what to do next, none of you truly having a solid clue as to what should be done about this royal striga. You watch when the greying man glares at you, blood smeared across his lips from your abrupt assault not even an hour ago.

"The both of you! This is madness!" He cries angrily, tugging at his cloth restraints, "What are we doing here? What's happening?" He wonders while searching desperately around the room for a nonexistent answer.

"How can we lift the curse." Mutters Geralt, his leather armored back to you and Segelin.

Segelin shakes his head, "No! This is not right. Foltest must pay for what he did." Whines Segelin once more, you simply fold your arms in irritation as the man looks to you for a sign that you care, which you most defiantly don't.

Rolling your eyes, you scowl at him, "You're already too blind to even comprehend your own faults. This is what you get for your childish actions." You mutter bitterly as he glares hopelessly at you, frustration clearly evident on his dirty face.

"Carry me out. I order you." Demands Segelin as Geralt turns around to face the desperate man. "Tell us how to lift the curse." He orders, Segelin huffs in frustration, avoiding Geralt's intimidating gaze.

In a blur of black and grey your hand is suddenly around his neck as his eyes go wide in stunned alarm, your squeeze isn't enough to choke him, but you're hopeful it's enough to change his mind. "I'd advise you to listen well, your life is already standing on the edge of a knife." You hiss maliciously in his ear before releasing him, he lets out a dramatic gasp as his wide eyes follow your every movement.

He turns his attention from you to Geralt as his mouth opens to finally answer, "Sh-She was hiding from the Brotherhood. She sold me a lamb....Sh-She told me to wait until a full moon, to wait and then to kill it." He stammers, Geralt crouching down to meet his eye level, "And then I recited some silly chant. And then I bathed in the lamb's blood until sunrise. Until the rooster crowed three times. And that is all. I swear. I swear. Now please let us leave." Begs Segelin desperately as he fruitlessly pulls against his constraints, your face falling into a frown, understanding immediately what this idiot has done.

"What was the chant?" Wonders Geralt, his brows furrowing in thought while he stares daggers at Segelin who looks down in frustration.

"Uh..It was years ago." Protests Segelin as he tries to think up the chant, "It was Elven. Um..." Suddenly he begins reciting an Elven curse, your eyes going wide in realization as Geralt shares a quick wary glance with you before racing over to his bag of potions, earning a confused expression from the bound man.

"Wh-what is it? The..I...I've done what's been asked. What more can I do?" He wonders in blissful ignorance as you let out a pissed off huff of air.

"You've done more than enough you perverted fool, unless you can keep a fucking striga out of her crypt until a fucking rooster crows three times." You snap while unsheathing your dagger, his face falling in frightened understanding as Geralt fumbles around with his potions, trying to find the right one to take before the action starts.

Segelin's eyes go downcast, his whole aurora turning to pure dread, "You're gonna have to fight it till dawn." He murmurs softly, staring at the far wall as Geralt downs a potion, his eyeballs turning into two pools of inky darkness. You turn, hastily walking for the door as Geralt quickly follows behind you.

"No. No. Come back here! Please. Please! You'd leave a man bound to die in such indignity?" He cries desperately, pulling on his restraints but to no avail.

"You're not a man." Growls Geralt as he takes his place by your side, the two of you walking down the dreary hallway as the snow falls lightly from outside the nearby broken windows, you catching the scent of the beast on the cool night air.

"Remember not to kill the princess, Y/N" Implores your Witcher with a smirk, you simply roll your eyes.

"We'll see if you can last till dawn my love, I don't doubt it." You retort, a suggestive tone hidden in your voice that's most definitely caught by Geralt.

The hallway breaks off into another section of the abandoned castle, you giving him a nod before turning in that direction, deciding it best to take on the royal beast from two sides if he gets caught up in some trouble. You silently walk down the dusty corridor past rotting wood and broken glass, cracked pieces of stone and the occasional human bones.

The enthralling shriek of the striga bellows throughout the castle walls, it's high pitched scratchy scream sounding like a knife that's stabbed you in the ears. Without another thought you race down the entrance-way towards the sounds of a great messy struggle, the princess has found Geralt, and she doesn't seem too pleased.

Turning round another stony corner, you halt dead in your tracks as your scarlet eyes zero in on the striga who's completely manhandling your Witcher, throwing him this way and that, deflecting every punch he's throwing at her. He suddenly rips a lamp from the wall and uses it to crack her across the side of her grotesque wrinkly head. She stumbles back at the violent impact, pain running throughout her body before she quickly recovers, hurling him backwards with a fiercely strong blow.

As Geralt falls onto his back you swiftly race down the hallway as the striga climbs on top of his armored body. She doesn't hear you coming, or when you electrocute her without warning, sending her flying into the nearby wall as she screeches in pain. You stop to help Geralt up, your right hand crackling with energy as he stands and glances down at the light emitting from it, then over to the pissed off princess. Who almost immediately recovers from her abrupt assault, she stands, her umbilical cord dragging as she stalks over towards the two of you.

In an instant she charges, a piercing scream sending your ears into agony at the frantic noise as Geralt lunges for her, grabbing her shoulders as he throws her against the brick wall.

For the next couple hours would you and Geralt take turns beating on the striga, down this hallway and that, into doors and wooden walls, crashing into cabinets and breaking more cracked windows through the struggle. Every fucking time she would recover and throw it back at you ten fold, like nothing had even happened in the first place.

Racing across the hall to Geralt's aid, you electrocute the royal beast just before she's about to bite into his exposed jugular, she falls back as you get closer, preparing to hopefully knock her ugly face unconscious for a while. You're slowly getting more and more fatigued with every couple minutes that fly by, this fucking striga giving you a real run for your money. No matter how much stamina you have.

But as you get within a few feet from her, she whips around, slashing you across the face with her razor sharp claws. Sending you flying into the wall as a hot stream of blood pours out of your freshly opened wounds. Dazed, you try and raise yourself from the ground and watch as Geralt gets pinned down by the striga once again. You blink back your blurry vision, painfully raising your hand as lightning brightly emits from your opened palm and fingertips just as Geralt uses his magic to break the stone flooring from right out under him.

Himself and the striga immediately falling through the broken floor and straight to the crypts below. Rising to your feet, you can feel as your facial wounds begin to fuse the skin back together again, your injury a thing of the past except for the strips of blood that mark it's path.

You hastily limp over to the hole in the ground, looking down to find Geralt laying in the rubble before slowly getting up. Without another thought, you jump down, landing hard on a pile of rocks as the unconscious striga lays motionless next to you. Pulling yourself up from the wreckage, you tiredly shuffle over to the center of the room as Geralt puts an enchantment onto the doorways so that the creature cannot escape.

"I don't know about you but I could think of ten different ways we could have spent tonight." You jest, breathing heavily as you hold onto your aching side, Geralt hums in reply before turning around and freezing, his face morphing into wariness as he gives you a concerned look. You turn around to see what's bothering him, only to find absolutely nothing, which is most definitely the problem.

"Oh fuck." You whisper as Geralt cautiously walks over to you, the both of you looking around the room as you stand back to back.

You hear a dull rapid thudding of a heartbeat before suddenly the striga jumps down from the crumbling ceiling to pounce at Geralt, she lands, whipping her hand across your chest as she picks him up, throwing him into the nearby stone pillar. You stumble back at the abrupt impact, watching as Geralt gets his ass beat by the pissed off striga, it throws him into another pillar, quickly turning around to race for the open doorway. But before it can get through, the white force field knocks her back, she snaps around once more shrieking in rage, bolting on all fours towards Geralt.

You pull your bruised and tired body onto your feet, reaching your hands out to send volts of hot white lightning into the vessel of the striga, sending her into a cruel stone pillar as she screeches in misery. When you look to your left a beautiful streak of orange sunrise emits from an opened spot in the roof, you breath heavily as the striga and Geralt take notice of the sunlight. Your eyes go wide as the creature races for the safety of her dirty crypt, you trailing behind her as Geralt jumps to his feet to follow.

Your boots pound against the gravely stone of the abandoned crypts as you valiantly throw yourself onto the furious princess while she attempts to launch herself into her resting place, she falls into the wall as your hands smack onto the cracked floor.

"Get in the fucking crypt!" You scream at Geralt as he makes a mad dash for the opened tomb, heeding to your rushed words without a second thought.

You watch as he falls into the stony coffin and shutting it just as the striga launches herself onto the thing, her cries and horrid wails sounding noisily throughout the large drafty room. Picking up a fist sized rock you chuck it at her, cracking her perfectly across the back of her grotesque head.

"Your royal pain-in-the-ass, come and get me." You taunt, lightning crackling from your fingertips as the angry princess snaps her attention to you.

She jumps down and immediately pummels you into the rocks as you send harrowing sparks of electricity into her body that thankfully throws her backwards, your vision going blurry once again. Gods your head hurts. Dark spots cloud your sight as you rest on the rocks in exhaustion, your side most definitely hurting as your eyes flutter closed.

You awaken to the sounds of Geralt as he opens up the tomb and steps out to walk over towards the princess, a concerned and astonished expression crossing over his dirty features. Pushing some ruble from your legs you finally stand and slowly walk down the small stairway as Geralt leans down to see if the princess is actually okay, considering her naked mud covered self is facing away from you both.

You can hear as her heartbeat picks up in pace, but before you're able to warn him, the princess turns around and in a confused rage pins him to the ground just as she sinks her teeth into the side of his neck. She falls back in fear as Geralt's pained gaze finds your own bloody face while you race to his side. Your eyes going wide as he lays upon the stony ground, blood seeping out from his mouth and ripped neck as you try and put pressure on it.

Tears slowly begin building up in your shimmering irises, "No. No. No...Geralt, look at me...look at me." You desperately plea as his golden eyes try and stay open for you, but he's slipping as more blood spurts out from his wounds, "Don't you fucking leave me you prick, not now of all times, or places. Geralt!" You cry as his eyelids flutter shut, his breathing slowing down as you try and cover his bleeding neck the best you can, not sure what to do. If you leave and try to get help he'll bleed to death, but if you stay then his chances are less grim but still uncertain.

Your mind swirls with what's the best course of action when suddenly you hear the rushed steps of Triss coming to your aid, and just in the nick of time.

——

Leaning yourself into the welcoming comfort of Triss' plush lounge chair, you watch as she mixes some more healing ingredients into a marble bowl at her work counter. You touch the side of your torso where a white linen wrap tightly hugs around your aching side where you fell on Geralt's silver sword. It throbs under your soft touch, but due to your immaculate healing capabilities your wounds will not bother you in a couple days time.

Turning your head lazily to the right to find a sleeping Geralt laying on the bed, recovering from his own injuries, you idly smile at his peaceful yet considerably less dirty form. Suddenly his eyes fly open, a puzzled expression upon his handsome features as Triss calmly turns around.

She smiles fondly at him, "Your scars. You heal quite nicely, if not for Y/N's blood you would most certainly be dead." She concludes knowingly as Geralt gives her a confused look, "She dropped some of her blood into your wounds to speed up the healing process. It was more effective then I had first realized." He turns to face you, a relieved sigh escaping from his parted lips.

You smile back at him, "Don't worry about the princess, she'll be fine, Triss has arranged for her to stay with the Sisters of Melitele." You chime in with a shrug, "Also she had her first bath."

"You should know Foltest issued a statement. The honorable Lord Ostrit gave his life to slay the vukodlak. Miners are gathering ore for a statue." Adds Triss with a grin as Geralt attempts to get up, "Anyone else would've killed the princess. You both chose not to." She finishes as Geralt painfully rises into a sitting position, a grimace upon his sweaty face.

"We'll take our coin now. I need to get back to my horse." Grunts your eager Witcher as he sits on the side of the bed, pressing his hand against his wrapped torso. Triss only grins in reply, walking over to hand him the leather sack of coins. He quickly takes it with a nod, Triss turning to flash you a knowing smile before excusing herself from the area.

Turning to Geralt with a frown, you search for his eyes as they glance around the room before landing on you, "Lay down you idiot, I watched you bleed out and go as pale as a ghost." You lightly argue, he sets the coins onto the makeshift bed as he finds your frowning gaze once more, "If I hadn't been there to give you some of my blood...fuck...you'd be dead. So don't you dare try and get up or I'll give you a reason to be in pain."

His stern face suddenly breaks out into an amused grin, "I'd rather not face your wrath my dear, although I wouldn't mind a couple more hours here if you decide to lay next to me." He suggests with pleading eyes, ones that know exactly how to win you over.

Leaning into the soft back of your seat, you cross your arms over your chest, "You're sweating, honestly still smell a bit, and your sheets are stained with blood..." You add with an inquiring raise of your brow, "How could I ever say no to such an alluring offer?" He breaks out into a beaming smile at your humored words, his heart just about fluttering in his muscular chest as you suddenly rise to your feet, walking over to him before crawling over to his other side near the wall. You turn to face him, a hand propped up against your head while you watch him lay down once again. His back touches the mattress as he turns his head to face you, a blissful smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Yes. That's the face right there, the suave steely golden eyes that I've fallen in love with. No matter how beat up you get...you still make me feel things."

"What kind of things, hmm?" He wonders with a lazy smirk as he watches your face break out into a small smile.

Trailing your delicate touch over his old scars, you look over to him with tired eyes, "Things I wouldn't even dare share with the very stars in the sky, nor the moon herself. And I tell her everything." You muse before leaning over to kiss his exposed shoulder. You listen as he hums in delight while you scoot yourself close enough that your whole body is flush against his, "Just sleep for now, love. You've had quite the rough night...and that's putting it lightly. I honestly thought for a moment that...that uh...I might have lost you." He searches for your hand, holding it tightly as a small way to comfort you while he locks eyes with your own downcast ones.

"I wouldn't dare think of ever leaving you alone in this world, not for a second. Y/N you mean more to me then all the coins and jewels combined, more then...uh..."

Laughing you shift your face to gently kiss his bare shoulder before looking up at him once again, "Geralt, there's not a lot of things that you love. That's honestly some short list you've got there...but it matters not, I'm your favorite person in the world and that's all I need to know."

He smiles adoringly at your closing eyes, sleep tenderly calling to you by the second as you hug him closer. He stays silent, wanting to listen to the calming thumps of your relaxed heart beat as your mind drifts into slumber. Closing his own tired eyes, he finally lets sleep take him into darkness where no monsters of any kind wait to hurt him. He's safe in your arms as you're safe in his, the two of you blissfully enjoying one another's company after a taxing hunt.

-

Tagged: @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

[teruthecreator]

Hey... let’s play in the chaos Fitz space... I’m so curious how magic lessons with Festo would go now Fitz is aware of Chaos in relation to his magic...

anon idk what u were expecting when u sent this, but im sure it wasn’t a 1.7k drabble of fitzroy and festo having a lil chit-chat. that being said, though, this was incredibly fun to do so thanks for the suggestion!!! 

_______________________________________________________________

“I don’t want magic lessons anymore,” 

The question makes the fairy halt in their fluttering, staring at their pupil with a curious stare. Fitzroy hasn’t been the same since the centaur assignment, they knew that already. Word has made its way through the faculty about the barbarian’s outburst on the field; hushed whispers of concern that never seem to make it to either headmaster’s ears. Althea Song even came in to discuss with Festo about the future of Fitzroy’s lessons; what might be the safest approach to controlling his wild magic. 

Festo is well aware, though, that “control” and “wild magic” tend to not mesh well. 

This is the first time they’ve managed to get Fitzroy to come to a lesson since his return over a week ago. Usually they meet three to four times a week, practicing simple spells and focusing on how to channel the energy for larger ones. He used to be adamant on his distaste for magic, but after a while he began to warm up to the idea of understanding the arcane abilities he was granted. Snippers seemed to help with that warming, becoming less of a familiar and more of an emotional support crab when Fitzroy’s feelings would go haywire and seep into his magic. But, after the centaur assignment, they were advised to postpone a few of their lessons to give Fitzroy the space to recoup after being cursed (and whatever triggered his outburst). 

After that grace period, though, Fitzroy just became a no-show. No matter how many cheerfully threatening letters Festo would send, Fitzroy never came to a lesson. 

That is, until today, when they came into their class to find Fitzroy already seated in his usual spot; twiddling his thumbs anxiously as he looked down to the floor. Festo was hoping this meant Fitzroy was finally ready to get to work, but...it would seem that’s not the case. 

“...Is this why you’ve been hiding from Festo?” The fairy asks, seating themselves atop a stack of books so they can face the half-elf properly. Fitzroy refuses to meet their gaze, nervously scratching his neck as he nods. “Ah...I see…You do not believe in Festo’s teachings.” Fitzroy perks up at that, turning to them and vehemently shaking his head. 

“I-It’s not that, Festo, really! It’s just…” Fitzroy trails off, looking frustrated and caught between words. “I just...When I came to you first, Festo, it was because I didn’t know why I had been given my magics and, therefore, was unable to control the outbursts. O-Or, that’s why I felt these lessons were good--I know they’re required, given my schooling track, but--” 

“--Festo gets your point.” Festo finishes, not wanting Fitzroy to get lost in the semantics before getting out what needs to be said. He nods his head bashfully and continues. 

“Right, yes. B-But now that I...I feel like now--or, I know now why I have magic. When...When I got cursed? I-I, uh...I met someone…” 

“You met Chaos, yes?” Festo asks, simply. Fitzroy buffers for a moment, mouth sputtering as he attempts to grapple with the knowledge, and Festo snickers. “Fitzroy, did you think Festo did not understand where your powers came from upon first meeting you?” Fitzroy’s cheeks are tinged red as he opens and closes his mouth to try and retort. “Festo knew your magic was wild from before Festo even saw you! There are not many schools of magic that manifest in catfish transformation.” 

“I...suppose so. B-But Festo, if you knew where my magic came from this whole time, why did you never tell me anything?” 

“Because you never asked!” Festo answers cheerfully. Their response makes Fitzroy’s shoulders sag as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Also, it would not have been wise of Festo to give you such an answer when you were first learning your magic. Knowledge is not always key to understanding.” 

“I’d say it is!” Fitzroy bites back, his hand dropping from his face. “These powers were imparted on me to do evil, Festo! A deity has been watching over my every move, cheering me on whenever I goofed up severely and got people hurt!” The air begins to crackle with static electricity as Fitzroy gets riled up, anxiously running both hands through his hair and lodging them there. 

“I ripped a man’s hand off, Festo! That’s fucked!! I struck fear into innocent bystanders! A-And the worst part of it is th-that...I didn’t feel bad for doing it! The hand part, at least--I felt awful once I noticed how everyone was...was looking at me like some sort of monster. It’s terrible! I can’t sleep because of it, I don’t have an appetite anymore because anything I look at just becomes a hand or a shitty magic apple, a-and I can’t...I won’t do magic anymore.” He looks to Festo pleadingly, hoping they see his anguish and understand. “I-I can’t even summon Snippers anymore because I’m paranoid about him being a direct line for Chaos to watch me mess up! I-I don’t--I don’t want my magic anymore, Festo.”  

Festo sits there, watching as Fitzroy huffs and puffs on the verge of a meltdown. Then, after Fitzroy seems to have regained a little bit of his compuse, they get up and fly over to him, grabbing his right hand with both of theirs and flipping it over so it’s palm-side up. 

“Make a flame for Festo,” they command, not even bothering to look up and see the utter confusion and hurt on their student’s face. “Just do it, it will be fine. Have faith in Festo.” Fitzroy sighs, deep and long, before shutting his eyes and concentrating. In a few short moments, a small blue flame appears in his hand. Festo makes an affirmative noise as they study the flame. “How did that feel for you to do?” 

“Um...Fine? I guess?” Fitzroy replies, sounding unsure. 

“It did not hurt?” 

“No…” 

“Did not feel forced out of you?” 

“No.” 

“You feel confident that it was by your will that this flame came to your hand?” 

“Y-Yes, Festo, what does that--” 

“Then you are fine!” Festo states matter-of-factly. They push Fitzroy’s palm closed, thus extinguishing the flame. “You should not feel worried about Chaos’s influence!” They look up in time to see Fitzroy’s eyebrows furrowing. “You said yourself that the magic felt natural to you--it was not forced out of your hand or influenced by a force that was not your own brain, yes?” 

“R-Right…” Fitzroy responds. Festo flies up to his face and pokes their forehead with maybe a bit too much force than necessary. “Ow! What the heck, Festo!?” 

“Your magic may have been bestowed upon you by a being of influence, but it is you who controls how that manifests.” Festo explains, suddenly sounding wiser than normal. “Chaos can only influence your magic if you let them; other than that, they cannot control how you choose to use the gift they gave you. From Festo’s experience, they actually hate doing that, so you should not worry about being ‘controlled’!” Fitzroy’s eyes widen and he guffaws for a moment. 

“W-Wait, Festo, you’ve had experiences with Chaos?” Festo twirls around in a circle and giggles mischievously. 

“Not in that way, silly! Fairies are creatures of unpredictability; Chaos is one of our patron deities! Festo has had quite a few communes with them in Festo’s lifetime!” Fitzroy’s face scrunches up in disgust at the implication of their first sentence, making Festo laugh again. “You were the one who said ‘experiences’, not Festo!” 

“Right, but I was not implying you had sexual experiences with a deity, Festo. I really don’t want to be thinking about...really anything like that ever, thank you very much.” 

“You brought up sexual! Not Festo!” 

“Ahhh! I am covering my ears until this conversation ends!” Fitzroy screams as he slaps his hands over his ears. Festo rolls their eyes and kicks Fitzroy in the nose. “OW! Are you even allowed to hit a student?!”

“Festo has tenure, remember?” Festo chides, letting out a snarky “teehee” before flying a little further back so Fitzroy can look at them properly. “Now, do you still want to stop your lessons? Festo won’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” Fitzroy stares for a long moment, brows furrowing once more as he thinks. He doesn’t think for too long before squaring his shoulders and sitting a little more confidently in his chair. 

“Y’know what, Festo? I think...I think I’m going to keep at this magic thing! Show that Chaos who’s boss!” Fitzroy announces, his usual bravado back. Festo claps their hands as a shower of sparkles rains around them. 

“Hooray! Festo is proud of you for conquering your fears!” Festo cheers, making Fitzroy flush a little with the praise. “Now, to make up for your missed lessons, Festo wants you to come here every day for the next two weeks after your classes! This is non-negotiable!” At this, Fitzroy deflates, just as Festo expected. 

“Alright, I suppose I...deserve that for ghosting you for so long…” Fitzroy groans. 

“Correct!” Festo chirps, causing Fitzroy to roll his eyes. “Now, to pick up where we left off, show Festo how you’re doing with Mage Hand…” 

---

It’s later that night, when the school has settled and all the students have gone to bed, that Festo returns to their office. They pull a set of small candles from one of the drawers in their desk and lay them out in a pattern on the desk’s surface. With a flick of their wrists, the candles are lit in an iridescent flame, and they close their eyes to pray. 

Coming to, they find themselves in a familiar woodland clearing, looking unimpressed at the figure seated across from them. The figure, on the other hand, looks positively delighted to see them. 

“Festo does not want you meddling with Fitzroy anymore,” Festo says, their voice uncharacteristically serious. Chaos smiles and shakes their head. 

You, of all the beings in my court, should know I cannot do that. They reply. I have a special mission in mind for him, and I do intend on seeing it through to the end~

Then, the wind blows, and Festo wakes up back in their office in a circle of smoking candles. With a sigh, they put the extinguished candles away and leave. 

Futile as it seems, Festo is determined to give Fitzroy control over his powers, Chaos be damned. 

[lotusplum]

Aelua Wren for @bakedpopsicle‘s Vlad!

“Uh hello I’m Aelua, call me Lua if you want. This lil guy (points to rat) is Predator...I call him Tato. I found him one day getting picked on by an owl. I-I really mean picked on like he bit off some of his tail and its a little shorter t-than usual. I mean not like hes any less of a rat without his tail, but I can tell he misses it! I hope you don’t mind but he’ll be tagging along, since we’re kind of a t-team. I guess I’ll tell you about me! Uhm I am an elf yes, I guess I never figured out what kind of elf cause I’ve lived alone most of my life. I was always in the woods, even when tall building grew taller and taller. I’m actually pretty old, heh, and I’ve seen a lot. I love being outdoors, I learn a lot from the smells of the trees to the formation of the rocks. The forest tells all! I am pretty proficient with a bow and arrow - THAT I will leave behind - and I try not to eat too many woodland creatures cause I can tell Predator gets a little sad. I like to make wooden carvings, and I have a few centaur friends.. they’re pretty wild--oh crap I did it again..I tend to talk a lot...oki byeeeeeeeeee!”

Aspiration: Super Parent

Loves Outdoors, Family Orientated, Hot-Headed

More about Aelua

- She does talk a lot, but she never feels like she gets to the point

-Is kind of like a protector of the forest, if anyone causes trouble in it she uses her bow x arrow and goes pew pew

-Loves talking to Predator even though hes got no idea what shes saying

- Named him Predator cause she was sick of him being prey

-Shes really not that confrontational, but isnt afraid to stick up for herself either

-Stole a camper’s cell phone and uses it all the time now, TECHNOLOGY WOW

- Shes very loving and passionate and wants to raise a family one day (one day soon that is)

-She’s not afraid of putting herself out there

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

[indiebluecrown]

Interwoven Tales Pt. I

This was never supposed to happen, but it did. This is the first part of a crack short series that I’m writing about the same characters from my different stories interacting. It’s amazing how this all started yesterday. Right, so this one is about the Hermione’s from Fall Through Time, A Dalliance In Time, and Time Travel? Piece of Cake. meeting and having a conversation.

It’s a fanfic about my fanfic...how did this happen?!

   A benevolent overseer has chosen for three individuals of similar names but from vastly different walks of life to be placed in a forest together. Lint glints through the treetops, there is a susurrus through the leaves as the tree branches sway. The distant sound of small woodland creatures going about their lives can be heard all around them.

   "Not so benevolent if you fucking plopped us here. On top of that, where the fuck is here?" A raven haired witch with hazel green eyes asks. The girl's voluminous curls tumble down her back, a buoyant and dark, yet beautiful mess. She's wearing a pair of red hot pants, and a loose and airy white blouse that has one too many buttons undone, so that the swell of her chest is showing. Her feet are bare.

    "Language," one of the other witches' scowls. Honey brown curls whose length rivals that of the other girl, brown eyes that swirl with copper. She smells distinctly of caramel and vanilla. As a matter of fact, the scent of vanilla is so strong as it swirls around the three witches that it is almost overwhelming with their sensitive noses.

   She is wearing a lavender sundress that brushes her knees and gently blows about her legs in the breeze, and on her feet are pair of black boots she'd nicked from her boyfriend's best mate.

   "I agree, who gave you the right to plop us here against our will?" The third witch snarls, gesturing wildly. She also had honey brown curls, but they are nowhere near as long. There is amber sparking in her eyes as she grimaces up at the impossibly blue sky. With a groan she drops her hands to her sides, and immediately begins to adjust her black leather jacket. Cropped Pink Floyd band shirt, her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, she's wearing black leather pants and on her feet are black combat boots.

   "Where are your shoes?" Lavender dress asks, "and what happened to your hair and eyes...you are me, aren't you? Or at least another version of me?"

   "Do you want a prize or something?" The first witch drawls. "Let's get this out of the way now shall we? So we can focus on more important things...like getting the 'benevolent' jerk to let us return to our own stories."

   "Get what out of the way?" The brunette in the leather jacket asks curiously, and she resumes her anxious gnawing on her bottom lip.

   "Introductions," the raven haired girl answers, hands on her hips as she peers into the forest in front of them.

   The trees almost seem to thicken, and it gives the impression that they are well within the depths of the forest. None of them would be surprised if a wicked witch skipped into their small clearing right now; attempting to lure the trio back to her house made of candy where she would fatten them up to eat.

   They are all fairly petite, but each one of them is a formidable force that one does not wish to anger. That is all to say that there's no guarantee that they wouldn't merely dispatch of the wicked witch on sight. A fact the benevolent author knows, so she shall not even bother writing that interaction—watching them bicker is far more entertaining.

   "My name is Hermione Jean Potter née Granger. Draco Malfoy and I somehow travelled back into the past, and arrived just before the Marauders first year.

   We integrated ourselves by taking a De-Aging potion so that in every way and fashion we were eleven again. Still had all of our memories intact, but the...edge had been taken off I guess you could say.

   We then anchored charms to our magical cores to change our appearance, and we were adopted by Dorea and Charlus Potter. James Potter is my brother, and even though Draco is also a Potter...we are not siblings...and we're together."

   The other two Hermione's jaws drop.

   "Do the trees over there look kind of shiny to you?" The witch finishes, tilting her head to the side.

   "So...that's a lot to unpack. You're dating Draco Malfoy?" Lavender dress Hermione asks, mouth agape.

   "Potter." The witch corrects before she turns back to her doppelgangers. "Really? That's all you garnered from that?"

   "No. I was getting to the rest—"

   "Hold it! I want to hear this. You—" leather jacket Hermione points at raven haired Hermione, before continuing, "—are dating Draco? How did that happen?"

   "That's quite a long story, the in between involved me dating Remus, and Draco dating Marlene...I was Sirius's first kiss...uhhh, and oh yea, I made out with Smith and Draco got pissed, and that's how we ended up together."

   "That sounds utterly mental," Hermione that smells of caramel says, blinking rapidly as if she can't believe everything she's hearing. She folds her arms, then unfolds them. She begins to play with the hem of her skirt, but quickly ceases as a thought comes to the forefront of her mind. "You dated Remus?"

   It almost sounds like an innocent question, but Hermione Potter recognises that tone. She often uses it to mask her annoyance. Not that she often hides it, she doesn't care if people know she's upset with them or not; normally it's cause they're doing stupid shit.

   "Yes," Hermione Potter replies carefully, measuring her words.

   "Odd, you smell like him," leather jacket Hermione Granger murmurs, sniffing the air around lavender dress Hermione.

   "I should think so. I was with him...before I was here," the other Hermione Granger says. A frown marrs her features. "Do you think we should be trying to get out of here?"

   "Maybe. I think we'll probably only be allowed to leave when the one who controls our fates and everyday lives says we can," Hermione Potter shrugs, and with a resigned sigh, she plops down onto the lush grass. She lets her head fall back, her eyes flutter shut, and she drinks in the sun that is gleaming down onto them.

   "It's just that the timing of this is rather inconvenient. We are meant to go after the locket horcrux tomorrow...I am assuming you both know about the horcruxes," the eldest Hermione—the one in lavender who smells of caramel—says with pursed lips.

   Hermione Potter's eyes snap open almost violently, "can we not talk about horcruxes? I know where all of them are, or well, where they will be…but I can't do anything because of that manipulative cunt, Dumbledick."

   There is a lull in conversation, a thick pause, and then leather jacket Hermione says, "we just destroyed the locket in my dimension...and what did your Dumbledore do?"

   Hermione Potter peers at the other girl, "huh. I'm not sensing any animosity towards the Old Codger. Yours must not have been as bad then."

   Leather jacket Hermione snorts, "he wasn't a Saint...but he wasn't terrible, he told us quite a bit before he died."

   "Lucky," Hermione Potter and the other Hermione Granger say simultaneously. There is a silent understanding that passes between them.

   "Well my Dumbledore is still alive..." The eldest of them offers, but from the disgruntled expression on her face, it is made abundantly clear that she holds no love for the man. "Manipulative fucker," she curses under her breath. The other two hear it due to their heightened hearing.

   "Well, I gave you the cliff notes of my current situation, I think it's your turn, Princess," Hermione Potter says, though it comes out as more of a demand. Her gaze is latched onto lavender dress Hermione.

   "Harry, Ron and I were at Grimmauld Place, and then a white light —it was blinding really—came out of nowhere, swallowed us whole and sent us back to 1979.

   It's kind of complicated, but in the beginning we figured out that Peter was already a traitor, and now he's in Azkaban.

   Lily and James got engaged and married...and I fell in love with Remus John Lupin—my mate—and his infuriating lip ring.

   Far too much has happened since, but those are some of the bigger events that have transpired.

   Oh, and I guess you'll like this—Dorea challenged Dumbledore to a duel, and she won." Lavender Hermione informs them, a smug smile on her face as she finishes her statement.

   "Mum duelled Dumbledick? Oh, I would have loved to see that," Hermione Potter hums a quaint, charming tune. "Jamie and Lils got married? That's terrific," a content smile is on her face, but it falters a little as her mind begins to travel forward to the fatw set in stone for her brother and her Lily Potter née Evans.

   "James and Lily are dating in my dimension," leather jacket Hermione—who as determined by the benevolent author shall henceforth be referred to as Kitten—chips in.

   "So it's just mine that are dancing around each other like they don't want to snog each other senseless? Ugh. Of course," Hermione Potter groans. Then she pauses, and she sticks her tongue in her cheek for a brief moment before asking, "when you say in your dimension...does that mean you travelled back in time as well? I just realised we haven't asked you much as of yet."

   "Not exactly. Sirius, James and Remus performed a blood magic ritual that caused them to travel forward in time and space—and into another dimension—" Kitten is about to continue, but gets cut off by Hermione Potter, who looks livid.

   "They did what? I'm going to kill them."

   Kitten clears her throat, "right. Ah, carrying on swiftly. They arrived and caused quite a bit of a stir.

   We ended up all going to Potter Manor, which had been unoccupied for years with the exception of Mipsy."

   "Mipsy?" Hermione Potter's eyes lit up, gleaming with happiness. 

   "Mipsy," The third Hermione repeats. The expressions on their faces indicates that they each have different relationships with the House Elf.

   "Then Lily did the same ritual and came after the boys...a lot of crazy things happened. I fell in love with Sirius Black—the younger one—we ended up saving Draco, who is my good friend, from killing Dumbledore. Some more crazy things, and now Dorea, Charlus and Peter have appeared in the present."

   "You said the younger Sirius, so the older Sirius is still alive?" Elder Hermione (the nineteen year old) that smells of caramel asks.

   "Yea. Yours wasn't?"

   "Not in my old dimension. Sirius, Tonks, Remus, Fred...and far too many others died."

   There is a somber moment as that information settles over all of them, as they all drink it in.

   "You mentioned Harry and Ron went with you to the past?" Hermione Potter asks quietly, a slight vulnerable tremble to her tone. Which is an odd sight on the confident and appearingly unshakable witch.

   "That's right."

   Hermione Potter inhales a shuddering breath, "Godric, I miss them so much. It's been almost six years since I last saw them. James looks just like Harry, or Harry looks like James, however you want to qualify it...but it's unfair to either of them to compare them as they are so different...and Ron. Fuck. Most days I can't remember what he looks like."

   “How does…what’s it like not having them with you?” Caramel Hermione asks.

   “Dreadful, it felt like piece of me was missing in the beginning. Then, the pain of not having them with you…it slowly gets better, and one day…I’m going to see them again one day,” Hermione Potter says with heavy conviction. There is uncertainty threaded throughout her tone, and her bottom lip is trembling, although, that may just be the trick of the light.

   “Are you okay?” Kitten asks.

  “Yea, fine,” Hermione Potter responds, clears her throat, gruffly wipes away the single tear that had rolled down her cheek, and then changes the topic. “So, Lavender. Does Remus do that thing…you know, that thing?”

   “I refuse to answer that,” Hermione Granger with Remus Lupin as a mate (and a lovely lip ring) says whilst rolling her eyes. The benevolent overseer is now tiring of trying to distinguish her by smell, so from now on she shall be identified by the alias, ‘Lavender’. Hermione Potter approves.

   “That’s a yes,” Potter laughs lightly, it’s a breathy joyous sound. With a content sigh, she lies back in the grass, extending her hands above her head. “I wonder if I can get my Remus to pierce his lip, he’d look smashing with a lip ring.” The witch says the last part more to herself than anything.

   “You’re ridiculous,” Lavender says, but there’s a gentle smile on her face. “This may seem like it’s coming out of the blue, but are you both animagi?”

   “Yupp,” Potter and Kitten reply in unison, and they both share a bright grin, and Potter sends a wink Kitten’s way.

   “Same here. I’m a…wolf,” Lavender says, and there is a hesitance to her words, as if she can sense their reactions from a mile away. Though she supposes she can, they are her after all. Different iterations from drastically different dimensions, but still her.

   “You’re shitting me. WHAT?! Were you just built to be your Remus’s mate? Fuck,” Potter bolts into a sitting position and flings her arms out to the side in excitement.

   “Language—“

   “I think that’s amazing,” Kitten interjects, excitedly grabbing Lavender’s hand and squeezing it tightly.

   “I’m a fox,” Potter jumps in, a broad grin growing on her face as Kitten’s eyes widen and she exclaims, “you’re kidding! So am I!”

   “Sirius calls me Miss Vixen when he’s trying to annoy me,” Kitten growls, brow furrowing as she places her hands on her hips. Sparks fly from the tips of her hair as she thinks about the nickname; Kitten, Pet, Mione, she can live with all of them, but she detests Miss Vixen.

   “You too? That’s what the fuckers put as my name on the Marauders Map,” Potter groans, shaking her head.

   Hermione Potter suddenly looks at Lavender with an odd expression, her eyes narrow and she says, "you have a sealed pack bond."

   "So do you, I can see it. Though the threads are thin and silvery, not golden like they normally are," Lavender says, her eyes now swirling with fiery copper.

   "Was it as much for you as it was for me?" Hermione Potter asks with an audacious wink.

   "It always comes back to something raunchy for you doesn't it?" Lavender smirks, there's almost an affectionate quality to her expression.

   "You have no idea," Potter chuckles.

   Kitten has been patiently awaiting her turn, and quickly asks, with wide eyes, "you two can see bonds?"

   "Yea, normally it's only when I'm consciously thinking about it...plus my eyes have to shift first," Hermione Potter answers, her eyes are glowing. "It seems like your pack still has an unsealed bond, sweetness."

   “Well—“ Kitten starts, but halts when she realises her hand is slightly translucent.

   “What’s happening?” Potter frowns, glancing around, and notices that she too is fading from existence, blurring around the edges.

   “I think we’re being sent back to our stories,” Lavender guesses astutely. The benevolent overseer takes note of this, and smiles.

   “I guess this is goodbye,” Kitten says, a touch soberly. This has been bizarre, but at the same time, somewhat pleasant.

   “Knowing the sadistic motherfucker in charge of our stories, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Hermione Potter snorts loudly, whilst flipping off the sky. Just before she disappears entirely, she yells, “more like see you later. It was nice meeting you gorgeous ladies!”

   Then she’s gone.

   “She does know she just complimented herself right?” Kitten smirks, then pulls Lavender in for a hug. “I hope I get to see you two again, this was fun. When I get back to my story, I need to tease Draco about how in a different life we could be together, and then I need to shag my boyfriend.”

   Lavender lets out a light peal of laughter, "the two of you are certainly a handful."

   Then, as if their souls are operating on the same wavelength, the two witches simply disappear all at once.

   The scene flickers, a bird’s chirping cuts off abruptly in a sort of choking harsh noise as the bird winks from existence. The light fades until it is bleak and grey. The plants wither. The air is stale and dry, as if the life is being sucked out of it. Then, it all goes dark.

Tagging some persons who may be interested: @sparkleme26 @weestarmeggie17 @littleredsiren3101 @owlways-and-forever @acciovodka @for-witchcraft-and-wizardry @inmuddywaters 

(I honestly don’t know who else to tag or who would be interested in this mess of a post, but here ya go. I already have ideas for two more of these including the Hermione’s, but it will have to wait for me to get farther in all the stories cause SPOILERS.)

If anyone has any suggestions for any of the characters they may want to see in this weird neutral space I’ve created, then let me know ;)

[sunflowrah]

Finally got this done! :D

((Pretty much a rough draft, I'm open to criticism not insults but thanks for having a read on my lil bunny boi! If you have questions throw them out to me)) Bio: Full Name: Isaac Ore Age: 25 y/o

Gender: Male Sexual Orientation: Homosexual Relationship Status: Single Body Type: Small figure, has a muscular build on upper chest, shoulders and legs Weight: 170 lbs Height: 6’1

Hair Color: Light Purple ((originally dark brown))

Eye Color: Blue

Skin Tone: Nutmeg

Date of Birth: March 22 Place of Birth: Aspen, Colorado Species: Human Language: English Ethnicity/Race:  Dominican

Weapons: Two double bladed axe. Purple Handles

Extras: Isaac obviously loves the color purple. Wears his uniform from working at an amusement park. Isaac’s adopted. Lost his family at a young age. Has a habit of biting and licking his lips alot.

Personality: Due to being raised in a home that demands a young man to be presentable and respectful, Isaac has a calming aura, he’s comfortable in his body, poise and well mannered. Though under all of his proper manner, he has extreme narcissistic behavior along with long string of anger issues. He grows impatient when things slowly stop going his way. Once taken to a certain point he will explode from anger, and start acting out irrationally. He’s very open to talk to new people only to dissect their personalities, it’s only after that he’ll determine whether they’re his next victim or a possible ally. He’s sadistic and finds great amounts of pleasure when he tortures and kills his victims. He has no specific pattern other than to pick off those who seem weak to fill his ever growing superiority and ego.

Voice: Stefano Valentini ((Evil Within 2)

Backstory:

-Due to Isaac’s bio being so long I’m giving a very short summary and it will be explained fully in a comic that will soon be released!-

   Isaac was born in Aspen, Colorado to a very young couple that had recently made the trip from the Dominican Republic. At the age of one however, his parents could no longer take care of him. Being very young at the time and wanting a better life for their son, they sent him to an orphanage. Isaac wasn’t there all that long, his adorable features manage to get him to a new home. A very wealthy couple adopted him and took him home. Though they only adopted Isaac for the sake of appearances, not only to look as though they helped a child in need but to prove that they would suitable parents. But behind closed doors, they didn’t pay much attention to Isaac, and demanded that he was raised to be a gentleman by the maids. The maids didn’t show him much affection either. He grew up without love and a firm hand.

As Isaac grew older he grew a sadistic and egotistical personality. Constantly working his looks and mannerisms taught to him, while taking out any anger and boredom on the little woodland creatures that lived on his 3 acre home. Isaac dealt with many deep seated anger issues mainly caused from lack of loving attention from his parents and the constant bullying he experienced in school for his appearance and his sexuality. Isaac was very proud of being who he was despite his parents and peers not approving of it. Causing people to outcast him.

The only form of contact he had with his parents, happened when they confronted him about getting a job. He obliged knowing he had no choice. He worked as an amusement park mascot for a few years, slowing hating it, only staying along to enjoy the costume he grew so attached to. While on breaks he would take his time to tease any birds or squirrels that wandered into the park for food. He began to take out his stress on them by entisting them with food and killing them once they got close.

Once afternoon on the other hand, a fellow student took notice to Isaac killing an animal when wandering about on their own. He called Isaac out, and Isaac being in the middle of an aggressive episode, Isaac threatened the student to walk away or he would be the one dead. The student taking notice to the small pile of animal corpses tucked away, he vomited and told Isaac he was going to rat him out. Isaac, obviously upset by this, he smiled and talked the kid down and out it, coming off as nice and telling him he wasn’t really killing them, just was in charge of taking out any dead animals away so little ones wouldn’t see it. The child being so naive listened to Isaac’s smooth speech patterns and agreed. Isaac walked up closer and then attacked the student. Out of fear of being caught, out of fear of being fired and also to get the frustration and anger out that the other student had caused him. He began to be the child’s head in with a stick. Each blow he grew angrier and angrier. Until he was unrecognizable he stopped. Isaac sat and stare at the corpse. He smiled and felt his stress fall away. This was much better than killing animals. He got a high off of it. He then began to drag the child away. Disposing his body in an abandoned employees only shack. Isaac took off his old uniform and pulled out a new one he had tucked away. He placed his old uniform under the floorboards then went on with his day like no other. Isaac kept up with his murderous process for years after the amusement park shut down and he had moved out of his parents home. He lived on his own and dawned the same outfit despite how tattered it was getting and wore in when he was killing another victim. He loved feeling that he was in power. After all the bullying and torment he had faced so long ago. Though he normally went after those who were weaker.

-sorry this is so jumbled and jumped all over the place! I kept wanting to make it shorter and shorter but you get the ideas hopefully of his bio! I plan on creating a full comic explaining his life and getting all the missing details into the light-

Reasons for killing: He gets a pleasure out of killing and mostly does it for sport. He attacks those who are deemed emotionally, mentally and physically weak. He’s turning himself into the bully and making him feel like he’s in power and not them.

Relationships:

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((Friend)) Annie Walker ((owned by )): He finds her personality intriguing. He feels as though he could get along with her due to her cold nature and blunt manners of speech. He gives her a great deal of respect and slightly fears that she could over power him, if she would ever attack. So he’s mostly meant to be that little bug in her ear and willing to get her caught up in anything murderous as possible. He loves getting her into killing sprees and small chit chat about each other features.  

((Parents)) Rebecca and Fredrick Ore: Isaac’s adopted and cold parents. He has never cared for these people, and never really talked to them unless it involved his work or income. He cut all ties with them after moving out and has no further plans on seeing them again. Even if he had the advantage to kill them, he will not waste his strength on already forgetful people

Extras:

-Isaac has two beauty marks. One on his upper left cheek and under his lip

- He does have ‘buck teeth” which gave him the name of rabbit, bunny boy and beaver by his peers

- Yes Isaac was originally based on Bonnie from FNAF since he was meant to be an AU but I ended up pulling him out of it and making him into something new.

-There’s more to Isaac, alot more since I’ve had him for a few years now. But you can ask questions if you’d like!

I want to be very clear this is all fiction so dont take it completely too seriously. I’m open to critique tho! I’m not gonna push that away but if you come off as rude and demanding I change things or insulting my work, then I wont pay as much attention to you.

[remainingso]

your choice of starblaster crew, how many cycles of dying in front of each other does it take to become numb?

The first thing most people see when they look at Magnus is all his outside stuff: big dude, kinda scary looking maybe, probably would fuck you up if he wanted to.

Magnus usually tries extra hard to get you to forget all that, mostly by crying a lot, and adopting all the small woodland creatures he can, until Taako laughs himself silly when the governing council or whatever of the latest plane asks if they could chat maybe without your bodyguard glowering at us from the corner?

Here’s the thing though: it is really hard sometimes, caring that is.

It’s something around the fiftieth time they’ve done this whole song and dance (he hadn’t started counting, not yet), and he and Lucretia are out in the woods, tracking down some rare birds she wanted to get a record of in her journals. It’s just them—Davenport’s trying to fix the ship so they can take off a little faster this time, Taako and Lup have been spending the last few cycles playing some sort of game of bad cooking chicken (no pun intended) and are holed up in a kitchen flinging truly horrendous dishes at each other, Barry’s doing some nerd shit Magnus doesn’t really want to try and understand, and Merle’s off trying to talk to John—so, hey, what the heck else is there to do but beat around some bushes and see some birds?

It isn’t supposed to be a hard cycle. They had the Light already. The trees looked a bit funny, maybe, coming here, bark and branches and leaves all in various shades of reddish orange, but Lucretia said it was probably mostly aesthetic. Everything was going fine.

Neither of them had expected the fifty foot wall of flames that would shoot up around the clearing they stepped into. Magnus hadn’t expected Lucretia to be caught in the blaze.

He stands, still holding onto the journal she’d given to him for safekeeper earlier on, blinking.

Lucretia’s gone.

Magnus scratches his head, tucks the journal away in his bag, and his first thought is, who’s supposed to take me birdwatching now?

He waits for the wall to subside and is mildly disturbed when Lucretia’s just gone. Like, what kind of magic mumbo jumbo even does that? Maybe Taako will know. Heck, maybe Lucretia would know—Magnus walks a slow perimeter around the clearing and vows to ask her next cycle.

“Man,” he says, ducking into the Starblaster, “these woods are kind of scary.”

Davenport pokes his head out from behind some control panel. “Is there something we should look out for out there, Magnus?”

Magnus scratches at his head. “Yeah, man,” he says. “The trees shoot fire. Dunno what sets ‘em off, but we were just walking along, minding our own business, and then, bam—” he smacks his fist against his open palm—“giant wall of flames.”

“Did anyone get hurt?” Davenport eases all the way out of the panel. “Wait, wasn’t Lucretia with you?”

Magnus opens his mouth, then stops.

Davenport’s brows furrow. “Magnus? What happened? Where’s Lucretia?”

“We—we have the Light, right?”

“Yeah…? It’s in the back, over there.”

Magnus rushes into the back room, where they always put the Light. He stares at it for as long as his eyes can stand it. It’s...well it’s really freaking bright is what it is. Magnus isn’t very good with words, so all he can think is that it’s the brightest thing he’s ever seen in his entire life (lives?)—definitely hella brighter than that wall of supernatural flames.

His eyes water, maybe from the Light, but probably because the thought of what if there was no next cycle? suddenly sneaks into his brain.

He runs back out of the room, sees Davenport again, then bursts into tears.

See, the thing is, caring hurts. It hurts way more than anything Magnus has ever been hit with. He sits in his room, alone, listening to the rest of the IPRE crew enjoying some new recipe Lup swears is the best thing she’s ever made.

He doesn’t feel much like celebrating.

It’s easy to forget, he thinks. It’s so much easier to forget that this thing they do, it’s dangerous, and no matter how many times people come back, any time might be the last. Taako’s voice floats to his mind, quoting one of his most popular aphorisms from back at the Legato Conservatory: Life’s full of second chances! Heck, it’s full of third chances, and fourth chances, and fifth chances, and—well, you get the point, don’t you, darling?

But what happens when their chances run out? 

Magnus pulls Lucretia’s journal out from his pack and makes a promise to himself right then and there: he’s never gonna forget. Not how dangerous it can be. He’s never gonna let himself not care, even if that might be easier and he might just die of dehydration by the time all this is over from the crying. But Magnus Burnsides is never ever going to forget to care, not even again.

The first thing Lucretia sees when she comes back is light. It’s always light, this blinding, surging mesh of light that imprints itself on the back of her eyelids as she comes back to herself. It just so happens that the last thing she remembers seeing is also light, tinged orange, hot and brief before everything falls into dark again.

The second thing Lucretia sees is Magnus.

He pulls her into a hug as soon as they’re all fully formed and people again. It’s a Magnus hug, so Lucretia mostly feels like she’s dying again until he puts her back on her feet, but when he pulls back, there’s tears dripping down his face, black eye and all.

“What was that for?” she asks, bemused.

Magnus sniffles. “I’m sorry for, y’know, letting a bit wall of fire eat you, and all that…”

“It’s okay,” she says, because it is (now). “It wasn’t your fault,” she says, because it absolutely wasn’t. Still, she thinks of the fire again and shudders a bit. But they can’t afford to think about the what ifs and the maybes. All that really matters is that she’s here, and Magnus is here, and so is the rest of their crew, safe for now.

“I have something for you,” Magnus says, then runs to the back of the ship before she can ask what it is. When he comes back, he’s holding—she squints—is that her journal?

“Here,” Magnus says, almost bashfully. He shoves the journal back towards her. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind that I...sort of maybe wrote in it?”

She flips it open, revealing a messy spread of bird drawings, some high up on tree branches, some rendered mid-flight, colourful feathers sticking out all over the place. Magnus has little captions besides each one like, this lil guy snuck up on me when I was trying to eat lunch, or, my green buddy here likes to sing to me sometimes when I’m out here. I think he likes me.

She turns the page and sees the beginnings of the next day, written out in what was obviously Magnus’s best attempt at printing neatly. Today, Lup and I blasted a big chunk out of a cliff by accident. It’s kind of a long story, but…

Lucretia looks up.

Magnus is looking at her, blinking with barely restrained hope brimming in his eyes. “I didn’t want you to miss any of it when you were gone,” he says.

This time, Lucretia’s the one who throws her arms around him in a hug.

[ruffoverthinksthings]

Can you start with how some of the major Auradon royals raise their children?

Mybrain thought it’d be more interesting if I give a general idea ofthe different styles of Auradon parenting, using AKs as the cases toshow it off. There’s more planned, if you want to ask about thenext in the series, but for now, have four cases:

Progressive Style –Upper-Middle Class – Li Ping Lan AKA “Lonnie”

Shang raises, teaches, andtrains Lonnie like he did his son, “Lil’ Shang” (who Iheadcanon is named after General Li, whatever his name was.) This ismostly because the only style of parenting he’s ever known was hisfather’s rather strict and militaristic style, but still, he forceshimself to become more progressive and feminist, allowing Lonnie toindulge in traditionally female interests such as fashion andmake-up, and attempting to become an expert in matters like femalereproductive health, now that they have a modern, properunderstanding of why women menstruate, reproductive health, and howto properly care for their bodies in general.

If I had to sum up hisphilosophy with raising her in one line, it would be this: “Mydaughter will dress-up and play house, or wield a sword and train tobecome a soldier because she chooses to, not because others demandsshe does!”

He still hasn’t quitewrapped his head around the fact that Lonnie does both asthe mood strikes her, though you have to forgive the man: he’sa product of a very conservative time, which wasn’t that kind towomen, to say the least.

Mulan has a much easiertime with this, both because she’s the poster-girl for feminism andprogressive values in Auradon, and having lived her life as much ofan outsider, she’s used to dealing with people scratching theirheads, or outright saying “But girls don’t do that!”

She never really subscribedto ideas of needing to be “feminine” or “masculine,” andinstead just encourages Lonnie to have independence and think forherself, a sense of morality and what is “right” based on hervalues and not that of what the society thinks should be “good,”and to never be afraid of rebelling and breaking out of a system todo what she believes is right.

“It worked out fine for me,it’ll probably work out fine for you,” she says.

With her other strongparental influences:

Mushu is basically her“soccer mom” babysitter who is ferociously supportive ofwhatever it is Lonnie does or chooses, and will rise up to defend heralways, even if the offense is just assumed, and only recognized byhim.

Yao, Ling, and Chien Po arecontent to treat Lonnie like they did her brother and Mulan back intheir army days, knowing that “she’s no delicate lily.”

Her ancestors are, as always,constantly split about their opinions, but Lonnie doesn’t reallyput much stock into them considering “We aren’t in the Old Chinaanymore.” She still regularly prays and makes offerings, though,especially because some of them have become quite fond of thespiritual essence of foods from other cultures. (“Dates! Please bring backthose delicious dates from Agrabah, they’re amazing!”)

Conservative Style –Royal Class – Audrey of Auroria

Because of how little we seeof Aurora awake, and the few details we have of the othercharacters personalities until we go into sequels and spin-off media,I’m going to assume that Audrey had an extremely “ClassicPrincess” upbringing.

Aurora, Flora, Fauna, andMerryweather all encouraged her to be beautiful, charming, andfeminine, pushing her to all the Disney staples of holding elegantbanquets, winning over their husbands’ guests like visitingdignitaries, ambassadors, and other royals with their grace, and ofcourse, singing and befriending woodland creatures.

Though they weren’t opposedto pushing Audrey to sports, advanced education into STEM fields,and the like, they weren’t exactly very encouraging aboutit, and Audrey herself isn’t a very sporty person, nor a personthat would be willing to get her hands dirty.

I wouldn’t discount hergunning for a college degree now that higher education is accessibleand socially acceptable for females, but there’s a part of me thatworries a law degree is merely a matter of reputation and decorationfor her, than the beginnings of a career as a more hands-on ruler.

Philip isn’t likely to pushher to stray from the norm, either, seeing as he was raised in theera that said that boys did all the riding off into battle andrescuing princesses, and he likely would be very protective over hisdaughter after the love of his life and her kingdom were almost putto sleep for all of eternity, if the Three Good Faeries hadn’tintervened.

All in all, Auroria is one ofthose kingdoms that seem to be just fine doing as they always did, astheir particular “Fairy Tale” was the classic “Prince savesPrincess, They Get Married, Happily Ever After”” Formula.

And before you ask, yes,her perfectionism and anxieties were likely a result of thisupbringing, as unlike her mother, she did not have the luxury ofbeing magically blessed with beauty, song, and protection againstcatastrophe, and has to be completely, absolutely, effortlesslyperfect on her own merits and her mortal limitations.

Progressive Style –Working/Fae Class – Doug of the Dwarves

The Dwarves and Snow Whiteherself are no strangers to hard work and backbreaking labour—miningwas, still is, and always will be the pure-blooded dwarves’ careerof choice, and the Queen still constantly pulls her sleeves up andgets right to work, be it cleaning up her own bedchambers and cookingin spite of the castle staff, or being incredibly active in hersocial work, either being in the villages handing out food andleading workshops, or going on camera to charm people into helping.

They are of the firm beliefthat Auradon would be a much better place if more people were willingto get their hands dirty, are wary of automation and the internetmaking a lot of former jobs redundant or able to be downsized to thedetriment of the old work force, and have their reservations aboutthe disproportionate wage/hours/effort ratio of white collar vs bluecollar jobs, along with the reputations both classes of work aregetting.

Ironically, in spite ofhaving all the makings of an incredibly conservative family, theycouldn’t be more progressive, as evidenced by their pushing Doug toescape the mines, study in Auradon Prep, and the fact that he isclearly most comfortable with the melody of musical instruments, thanwork songs and pickaxes striking rock in unison.

You could say that this was areaction to the slave conditions the Dwarves have, realizing how badtheir lives had gotten under this new rule, and how little “Snowie”could do to mitigate the oppression and damage Auradon does on aregular basis to their oppressed minorities.

They would have been happy toinclude Doug if he were the kind of kid that was happy to pick up apickax, tirelessly search for gems whilst singing “Heigh-Ho!”,but they all know however that his place isn’t in the mines.

“Put up your cap and yourpickax, Doug, and start reading some books: you’re getting out ofhere, to someplace better, someplace you belong.”

Conservative Style –Working/Fae Class – Jane of the Faeries

It’sironic that despite working constantly with the newest generation,who were spawned in the wake of the most dramatic and expansiverevolution any of their home realms have seen or will ever see, theFairy Godmother is one of the most conservative parents in all ofAuradon.

Youcan probably blame her being thousands of years old and incapable offorgetting anything—with a blank slate like the AKs, it’s easy tohave them accept all the realities of the world, because that’s allthey’ve ever known, but with Fairy Godmother, she not only has afirm foundation of what reality should be cemented in her mind butalso a grand, palatial castle of norms, “truths,” and beliefsabout how the world should always be.

Asa result, it’s almost impossible for her to change her corevalues, and said core values skew towards very conservative,traditional ideals.

Youcan see evidence of it with Jane’s behaviour, from her clothing andher former hairstyle, her “My mom’s going to kill me!” linewhen she ripped that tiny seam in her skirt, and of course, the wayshe’s constantly shying away, making herself small, and staying inthe sidelines while the “Royals” do their thing.

Forwomen and the Faeries of old, they were only ever the supportingcast, the prizes to be won, the people that stayed behind and tookcare of the household while the men rode off to have adventures, orin FG’s case, the one that comes to Cinderella’s direst, mostdesperate hour to give her the push and the assistance she needs tosolve her problems herself—notice how FG didn’t step in at theclimax of Cinderella, knowing that the mice and the otheranimals she had befriended would swoop in and save the day all bythemselves, no magic necessary.

Youcould also blame her absent-mindedness, aloof, and overly optimisticnature; it’s REALLY hard for her to see Jane’s problems becauseshe always thinks things can’t get THAT bad, and abides strongly bythe Fae Rule of “Only as much assistance as is necessary, nothingmore, nothing less.”

Toobad the rules don’t really fit so well with the new realities ofAuradon…

[rapmonphile]

Hellooooooo ✨💞🌻🌈🌟 Bleeding heart, sugarbush, sunflower and bloom! 💘🍬🌻🌱 ily!! 💕

sara!!! how cute, your lil emojis match the questions 💕🌸🌱🌼

bleeding heart: what makes you heart go mushy?• tbh i hate being a sap like this but..,,,, seeing guys with little kids. i just think it’s so cute. too many guys are terrible with kids so i just think it’s adorable to see one who really cares and knows how to interact with children. i think it’s a real show of character

sugarbush: do you have sweet tooth? if yes, what’s your favorite sweets? if no, why?• ABSOLUTELY. i love anything with ice cream in it (milkshakes, dairy queen blizzards, mcflurry’s, etc etc etc) and it’s so hard for me to resist. i’d say ice cream is one of my very favorite foods

sunflower: would you like to be a fairy or a mermaid?• oh GOSH! this is hard but i’m going to have to say fairy, bc when i was a kid i had this amazing book with pop-ups and secret flaps in it, and it was all about fairies and different woodland creatures. i still have the book and tbh the child in me kinda hopes that little creatures like that do exist somewhere, lmao. plus, fairies can interact with humans, which is pretty cool.

bloom: what is something that you would like to tell your children?• gosh, i hope if i ever have kids, that i’m the best parent. i guess i’d just want them to know that i won’t ever be disappointed in them as long as they try their best at whatever they’re doing, not hurting anybody, and doing what makes them happy. i sincerely want my kids to know that i’ll always love them, and that i want them to love themselves, too

[knight-not-pawn]

alepulchure :3c

who hogs the duvet  Alexa, since again, bae is chilly afwho texts/rings to check how their day is going  Sepulchure less checks up on Alexa, and more preemptively stops her from decking the wrong motherfucker and landing herself in jail.who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts  Still Sepulchure.  Alexa has no idea what to get him, so she just weaves lil crafts for him.  Most of them don’t turn out all that great but he only teases her about it a little bit and uses them anyways.who gets up first in the morning  Sepulchure.  Alexa is not by any means a morning person, so even in the event Sepulchure decided to head to bed at some point, he’ll still have already been up for hours by the time Alexa wakes.who suggests new things in bed  Alexa’s a sex-repulsed asexual and I don’t really think Sepulchure’s really all that attracted to her physically since she’s so much younger than he is.  So neither of them.who cries at movies  Alexa.  Sepulchure refuses to cry in front of his former enemy.who gives unprompted massages  Sepulchure again since I highly doubt Alexa’s posh duchess upbringing included lessons on something as “vulgar” as massage.who fusses over the other when they’re sick  Neither of them are really the fussy type, so I’d say Sepulchure since he’d be much more firm with Alexa if she got sick than if by some miracle he did instead.who gets jealous easiest  Honestly I have no idea if Alexa is physically capable of getting jealous about Sepulchure since she knows how much of an uncaring ass he is, but I feel like when she’s feeling really low about herself she’s more likely to get jealous.who has the most embarrassing taste in music  Alexa.who collects something unusual  Their daughter Jazlyn, who collects reanimated woodland creatures.who takes the longest to get ready  It depends on where they’re going.  If they’re going out in the world, then Sepulchure takes longer since he actually wears armor unlike Alexa post-Ravenloss.  If they’re going out on the town, then they take roughly the same amount of time.who gets most excited about the holidays  Alexa; she can honestly spend all year just waiting to pelt Sepulchure in the face with a load of snowballs.who is the big spoon/little spoon  They tried spooning once, but it didn’t work out since Alexa’s wings kept pressing against Sepulchure’s chest uncomfortably when she was the little spoon, and Sepulchure just plain refuses to be the little spoon.  They just kinda sleep on their own ends of the bed.who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports  Alexa.  Sepulchure is a punk ass bitch when it comes to competitions and they both know it.  If it can be played as a competition, they’re going to rile each other up until a winner is claimed or blood is shed.who starts the most arguments  Alexa in response to whatever atrocity Sepulchure committed this time.who suggests that they buy a pet  Neither of them.  Alexa’s dragon Soren is pet enough.what couple traditions they have  uhhhhhhhhh roasting the hell out of alexa’s parentswhat tv shows they watch together  Probably trashy reality shows about vapid reich people they spend the whole show making fun of.what other couple they hang out with  Probably Izaac and Riadne since Alexa is on pretty good terms with them, though Sepulchure really doesn’t care to get to know them that much.how they spend time together as a couple  Sparring, adventuring, judging people with each other at parties....who made the first move  Interestingly, probably Sepulchure.  They had to work together for a while to take down the Rose, and he knew they had to work together to do it.  Any actually romantic or flirtacious move on his part was probably initially meant to just be some snarky remark against his hardheaded “partner in crime”.who brings flowers home  Sepulchure brought home flowers at first, but then Alexa started picking them out to decorate the house with.  They’ll conspire to have bouquets with passive aggressive meanings in flower language in every room.who is the best cook  Sepulchure on account of Alexa being able to cook literally just soup and nothing else.