#this is my first time drawing them so i feel like they look a little off

[rinachains]

synopsis: in which your leader invites you for a drink and you see a new side of him.

wc: 2.1k

contents: drabble; cult leader!geto x gn!reader; tipsy, clingy geto; fluff, small warning for cult!leader geto lol; alcohol consumption

a/n: pls keep in mind that english is not my first language. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

It wasn’t necessarily unusual for Geto to invite you to join him in his office. Usually, though, you drank tea or coffee and sipped your soothing beverages as you chatted about your day, your duties and anything else that came to mind. You actually assumed he didn't drink alcohol at all - until now.

You were currently standing in his dimly lit office after he asked you to come over earlier that day, taking in the view of him pulling out a bottle of sake and two glasses, putting them on the small, wooden table in front of him. His long, silky onyx hair was tied back in a low ponytail, his usual monk attire had been discarded and replaced with a plain black robe that revealed a glimpse of his strong, broad chest. You could see a faint, healed scar on his otherwise smooth, pale skin. It was unfair how beautiful he looked without even trying, how ethereal.

“Are you planning on joining me eventually or do you want to stand by the door for the rest of the evening?” His purple eyes met yours, a glint reflecting in them, drawing you to him as if you were a crow seeing a shiny object. “C’mon, you know I won’t bite.”

Feeling a little flustered about acting so awkward, you hurriedly walked over to the table where you sat down opposite him on the soft cushions beneath you and crossed your legs to make yourself more comfortable. You couldn't help but naively think that this felt a bit like a date, but you knew better, didn't you? You were just driven by your own hormones because you weren't quite used to the attention of a man like him yet.

“Is there an occasion for this or did you just suddenly feel the urge to get drunk, Master Geto?”, you asked in a subtle, amused tone to relax yourself and get rid of the tension, raising an eyebrow as you eyed the table.

“No special occasion, I just wanted to share a drink with you.”

“Oh, but I don’t really drink”, you said sheepishly, holding your hand out in front of you. “I mean, I could go for one glass of sake, but I’m afraid that’s my limit.”

He chuckled, looking up briefly through his eyelashes before concentrating on pouring the drinks. “Are you a lightweight or just not fond of the taste?”

“Both, I guess.”

“I’m not much of a drinker either, but I thought it could help with relaxing. This week was pretty draining.”

Every time you two would have your little meetings, he would actually indulge you by sharing how his day went and what he’s planning next, but it never truly went deeper than that, solely scratching the surface. You weren't sure if he ever told you how he really felt. He held back, and you couldn't blame him for that. You always wondered why his hatred for non-sorcerers ran so deep, why he started this cult, what finally made him do what he's doing now. You desperately wanted to know and absorb everything about him, but you had to hold back. You wanted him to open up on his own because you were afraid you might overstep your boundaries and destroy the casual bond you two had forged.

He hummed approvingly as he observed you bringing your filled cup up to your mouth and taking small, measured sips. “Self-restraint is good, it’s quite hard to not be greedy.”

Then, contrary to you, he downed his drink in one go, making you choke back a startled laugh. His tongue darted out to lick the remaining liquid on his lips as he put his cup down. You felt your mouth fall slightly open at the sight, resisting the urge to copy him and lick your own lips.

It’s been about a year and a half since you joined Geto’s side. You remembered that day clearly, every single detail burned into your brain.

He was a stranger approaching you in his monk's robes, and for a moment you assumed you were surely going to be dragged into a cult. Which wasn't entirely wrong - you were technically part of a cult now, except you were the one doing the scamming, and he was helping you discover something very important about yourself - your cursed energy and technique.

Years, almost decades, of feeling as if you were crazy, until you met someone who finally understood and proofed to you that you weren’t crazy, but, in fact, special. You were no longer lonely; for once you were surrounded by people and there was no loneliness that weighed you down.

He was your leader, but he never made you feel inferior. Your group was more like a family; that’s what he said to you from the beginning, what he promised with such earnest enthusiasm. You’d join his family, become a part of it, a new member. You’d finally belong.

It also didn’t help that he was handsome – devilishly so. You didn't think you'd ever met anyone as captivating as him, with eyes so keen and sharp, smile so nihilistic and almost cruel, voice so gentle and soothing. Truthfully, he had you under his spell the moment you encountered those purple hues.

Normally, he was carrying himself in such a collected, mature manner, domineering and commanding but without being brash and forceful – he was a natural leader who effortlessly managed to wrap others around his long fingers, including you.

Now, as the two of you were sitting here, and you slowly finished your one drink and he was already on his third one, there was a light flush coating his cheeks, his hair lightly disheveled, a few more strands than usual hanging in his face, framing his delicate, sharp features. It gave him a boyish charm that made the corner of your lips curl up, your cheeks feeling warm (and not just from the alcohol). It was vulnerable in a way; you wondered if you were the first one to see him in such a state. The thought of someone else getting this view made your stomach churn; you wanted to be the first and the only one. A view reserved for you eyes only.

“Let me pour you another one, Master Geto”, you exclaimed, reaching out for the bottle and carefully pouring more liquid in his cup.

His eyes intently followed your movements, hand twitching with the secret urge to pet your head and relish the softness of your hair. So eager to please.

“Suguru.”

“Huh?”, you quickly turned your attention towards him again, just as you put down the bottle on the table.  

“Call me Suguru.” His head tilted to the side, bang swinging with his lazy movements, and he put his hands behind him, leaning back. “We’ve known each other for a while now. And I trust you. Shouldn’t the person I trust call me by my first name?”

“You-“, you choked out a response, flustered by his unexpected directness, “you can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”, he gave you a look of genuine confusion, making you hold back a chuckle at his current childlike nature. “I want to be honest with the people I care about.”

A huff escaped your lips, more collected now. “I guess that checks out since you lie so much on a daily basis.”

“Hmh, exactly”, he purred, a deep rumble vibrating in his chest and you swore you could almost feel it despite the small distance between you. “I have to lie so much to these monkeys, ‘have to play pretend. I don’t have to do that with you.” Something akin to a blissful expression formed on his face and his voice was so insufferably sultry, dripping honey that you could almost taste on your own tongue.

You pursed your lips, biting the inside of your cheek. “But you’re still my leader, it wouldn’t be really appropriate to call you by your first name”, you paused for a moment, watching his face and thinking for a brief moment that it almost looked like he was sulking. “Plus the other ones still call you Master Geto.”

“Mhm but that is different”, he sighed, confusing you even more. Different how? “And, if you insist that I’m your leader, then I give you the order to call me by my first name. You can’t resist my orders, can you?”

You let out a sigh in return, sounding exhausted, though you weren’t sure from what exactly. Maybe it was time to go for you, feeling like you’d lose your mind the longer you were with him in his current (incredibly irresistible) state.

“I believe I have to go now, Suguru. I have to be up early tomorrow.” You carefully got up from your sitting position and turned your back to him, and just as you were about to walk towards the door, you were suddenly held back and placed on the floor again, making you let out a gasp.

Strong arms were wrapped around your waist, holding onto your stomach, lightly squeezing, but still considerate with their touch. Geto’s scent enveloped you, something earthy and fresh, and just so addictive. It smelled like home. The warmth he radiated surrounded you, you were able to feel his broadness and his muscles against your body, reminding you of a shield rather than a cage. You didn’t believe you ever felt so secure.

“Don’t go.”  

“Suguru…”

“Stay here. S’comfortable when you’re around.” Oh.

You tilted your head, looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of his face, only for your nose to almost touch his cheek. A shiver ran down your spine. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils dilated, and his eyebrows slightly furrowed; he appeared almost pained. As if the mere thought of you leaving him would hurt him deeply. You felt your knees getting weaker and you became overly aware of the way you were breathing, trying to tell yourself to take normal, regular breaths.

“Say: do you like being here?”, you felt his warm breath hitting your bare nape as he lowered his head, your hair standing up and goosebumps covering your body. “Do you ever regret joining me?”

Surprised by his sudden questioning, you raised your eyebrows. “Have I given you the impression that I did?”

His thin lips dropped into something resembling a pout. “Answer my question.”

You resisted the urge to poke his forehead, instead holding your hands still by your sides, lightly grazing his arms that were still wrapped around you, his finger caressing your covered stomach in soothing circles. “No, I never regretted joining you. In fact, I believe it was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

He hummed, somewhat satisfied by your answer yet still skeptical.

“You could have lived a simpler life.”

“Sure, perhaps I could have lived a life in blissful ignorance”, you huffed. “But I also would have lived the rest of my life wondering what’s wrong with me. Maybe I would have become mad at some point. You gave me the answers I needed, and more. You gave me purpose.”

Geto was sure – sooner or later Satoru would have discovered you and taken you under his wing. You would have become a jujutsu sorcerer; putting your life at risk, just to save monkeys who neither cared nor were even aware of your existence. No, he couldn’t have allowed this. The thought made his skin crawl, images of you being life stock haunting his mind. You were made for something better, you deserved more than that, to be untainted and free from the shackles of jujutsu society. Only he could give you that. Perhaps he was selfish in that way, for needing to have you by his side, but he would gladly indulge in that selfishness if it promised your proximity to him and your safety.  

You directed your stare towards the ceiling, a contemplative expression grazing your features. “I guess you saved me.”

You couldn’t see how his eyes were now less drowsy and became bigger, a sparkle appearing in them, and how the colors in his already reddened cheeks seemed to deepen.

“Saved you, huh”, he murmured under his breath, voice coming out muffled as he tucked his chin further into your shoulder, almost nuzzling you. Your heart stuttered at the contact, cursing him internally for touching you so casually, for acting so intimate with you.

“I’ll always keep you safe. That’s a promise. No filth should ever touch or harm you.”

“That’s quite a big promise.”

His hand grabbed your chin then, a gentle yet firm grip, the sheer size of his large palm covering it, fingertips barely grazing your bottom lip. He held your gaze, so intense and unwavering that it made your throat dry and afraid to swallow. “I mean it.”

“Alright”, you whispered, as if it was a secret only the two of you should know, forming an invisible string that held you together. “I’ll hold you to it.”

[aurulia]

you stood just outside the restaurant, already feeling the familiar tension building in your chest. matt’s hand was warm against your lower back as he gently guided you toward the entrance. tonight was a big deal. not just any dinner, but the first time you were meeting his brothers, Chris and Nick. you had heard so much about them, seen countless videos, but being face to face with them felt like a whole new level.

you tugged at the sleeves of your oversized sweater, fidgeting with the fabric as nerves bubbled up. the sweater, one of matt’s favourites, hung loosely on you, the sleeves long enough that your hands were barely visible, swallowed by the fabric. you played with the edges, your fingers curling inside the soft material, a nervous habit Matt had noticed long ago.

matt glanced down at you, instantly picking up on the way your fingers twisted the sleeves, the way you kept your head down a little more than usual. he stopped just before you both reached the door, turning to face you fully.

“hey,” he said softly, reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly along your skin. “you don’t have to be nervous. It’s just my brothers. I promise they’re gonna love you.”

you nodded, but the slight tremble in your fingers gave you away. “I know. I just… it’s a lot, meeting them for the first time. I don’t want to mess it up.”

matt’s lips quirked into a smile, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “sweetheart, you couldn’t mess it up if you tried,” he said. “and you look adorable in my sweater, by the way.”

you felt a soft warmth rise to your cheeks as you ducked your head, smiling to yourself. the sleeves of his sweater hung over your hands, hiding them completely. “I’m not even sure they’ll be able to see me under all this fabric,” you joked.

matt chuckled, tugging you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “they’ll see you, and they’ll love you. and if it gets too much, just squeeze my hand. I’ll know.”

you nodded again, feeling a little lighter with him by your side. he pushed open the door, leading you into the restaurant.

when you reached the table, chris and nick were already seated, chatting with each other. chris spotted you two first. “finally! we were starting to think you guys bailed.”

matt just laughed, pulling out a chair for you before sitting down next to you. his hand slid over yours under the table, his fingers wrapping gently around your still fidgeting ones. you peeked at his brothers from behind the safety of your sweater sleeve, feeling a bit awkward.

nick smiled at you, “it’s so nice to finally meet you,”

you smiled sweetly, your fingers slightly letting go of the sleeve of your sweater. “nice to meet you, too.”

chris, being a bit more direct, leaned forward with a grin. “matt never shuts up about you, by the way.”

you giggled, turning your head to matt “is that so?” matt nudged Chris with a glare before turning to you. “alright fine, maybe i do talk about you alot, but can you blame me?”

you bit your lip, smiling “ill take that as a compliment.”

matts thumb brushed over the back of your hand in a slow, soothing motion. he leaned in, his voice low so only you could hear. “you’re doing great, sweetheart.”

you gave him a small smile, leaning into the warmth of his arm next to you. matt kept a comforting presence beside you the entire time, making sure you were okay with just a squeeze of your hand every now and then.

when the food arrived, matt, true to his word, ordered for you, noticing the way you hesitated when the waiter came around. “she’ll have the same as me,” he said casually, not drawing any attention to it.

by the end of the night, as you were getting ready to leave, Chris leaned over with a grin. “You survived your first sturniolo dinner. not bad.”

nick nodded. “yeah, you’re stuck with us now.”

you smiled, feeling more at ease than you had when you first walked in. matt, noticing how much more relaxed you were, pulled you into a quick hug, kissing the top of your head. “told you they’d love you,” he murmured against your hair.

“mhm,” you hummed softly, resting your head on his chest, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the sweater.

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Ten: The Beyond Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 9.3k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, death, fighting, blood, cursing, new character alert, we have so many characters already i'm so sorry, mauling of an elf, mind reader witch, Clarcton is pretty lame, drinking, drunkenness, nightmares, bonding, missing child (it's not that bad), fear, paranoia, insecurities, regret, guilt, shame, let me know if i've missed anything A/N: We're officially 1/3 of the way through our "little" story. Sorry it's been so long between updates. I've been working on so many things as the same time that TTW got placed on the backburner for a bit. Thanks for reading!

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I never expected Clarcton to be so plain. As a girl, I used to dream about escaping the swamp, imagining a world beyond my responsibilities—a world full of beauty and freedom. But standing in the little village’s town square, those daydreams evaporated like morning mist.

Stover, the tiniest town in Clarcton, was quaint and small, with cobblestone streets and wooden cottages that seemed to lean on each other for support. The townspeople moved with the kind of slow, deliberate pace that comes from a life untroubled by haste. Their eyes lingered on me, and I could feel their curiosity as they assessed the stranger in their midst. I stood out just by being different, my scars a map of battles they couldn’t fathom.

Through a day of shopping, I learned that Stover rarely saw travelers. The elves invading the northern tip had made the locals wary, and I could hear their whispers about my scars. Ignoring them wasn’t easy, but I’d be gone tomorrow. The market was a small square, stalls offering modest wares—fresh produce, simple cloth, handcrafted trinkets. Each vendor seemed to eye me with a mix of suspicion and pity.

Northorn still held strong, its capital unfallen. King Edward had called for aid from Whopping, a fishing town on the east coast. The wolves of Viridi Gramine had decided not to help the humans, heading instead to Bangtan to protect their princess. Hearing the townsfolk speak ill of Hyuna made my stomach churn. These people were ignorant, jumping to conclusions like humans always did since the Sarkans first landed in Lustra.

Starving, I dropped off my supplies and set out for food. Hannah, a kind woman who ran the inn, had pointed me to a tavern that promised a decent meal. However, I was low on money and too frightened to barter. Drawing attention could be dangerous, especially after hearing rumors of elves in town. I’d hidden in shops, body tense, the sight of white hair sending chills down my spine.

Elves all looked the same—pale, white-haired, with amethyst eyes. This party had no women, and when I asked the tailor, he explained that their kind had a queendom where men were lesser beings. These elves were young and inexperienced, sent to weaken before the real conquerors arrived. The tailor believed Lustra would fall when the second wave came.

The tavern buzzed with an overwhelming clamor. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ale and sweat, and it was clear that I was the only human present. The elves, their pale faces flushed with drink, were loud and rowdy, their laughter grating on my ears. Ale sloshed over the edges of their mugs, splattering the wooden floor. Keeping my head down, I approached the bar and ordered soup and ale, deciding it was safer to stay than to risk attracting attention by leaving too soon.

Finding a corner table, I settled in, hoping to blend into the shadows. The warmth of the tavern was a stark contrast to the chill outside, but it did little to soothe my nerves. As I waited for my meal, snippets of conversation drifted to me. The elves boasted of their exploits, their voices dripping with arrogance. They spoke of battles and conquests, their laughter tinged with cruelty. Each word stoked the fire of my hatred, but I kept my face impassive, my gaze fixed on the table in front of me.

When the tavern maid brought my soup and ale, I thanked her quietly, avoiding eye contact. The soup was hearty, its warmth spreading through my body with each spoonful. The ale, though bitter, helped to steady my nerves. I ate slowly, trying to make the meal last as long as possible.

As I ate, a group of elves at a nearby table grew louder, their taunts more pointed. They spoke about the humans they had encountered, their words laced with contempt. One of them, a particularly burly elf with a scar running down his cheek, caught my eye and sneered. “Look at that one,” he said loudly, gesturing towards me. “Thinks she can hide among us.”

The others laughed, and I forced myself to remain calm, taking another sip of my ale. The burly elf stood, his steps unsteady, and made his way over to my table. “What’s your name, human?” he demanded, leaning in close, the stench of alcohol on his breath.

I looked up, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as I could muster. “None of your business,” I replied evenly.

His sneer widened, and he reached out, grabbing my arm. “Feisty one, aren’t you? I like that.” He pulled me to my feet, and I could feel the eyes of the entire tavern on us. The room had fallen silent, the tension palpable.

The elf’s grip tightened, and I winced, but refused to show fear. “Let go of me,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Or what?” he taunted, pulling me closer. “You’ll make me?”

Before I could react, a flash of movement caught my eye. Another elf, smaller and quicker, appeared beside the burly one. “Enough, Dalion,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Leave her be.”

Dalion hesitated, his grip loosening slightly. “Why? She’s just a human.”

“Because I said so,” the other elf replied, his tone brooking no argument. “We don’t need any more trouble.”

With a grunt, Dalion released me, shoving me back into my chair. “Fine,” he muttered, glaring at me one last time before returning to his table. The smaller elf gave me a brief nod before following.

I took a shaky breath, my heart pounding. The tavern slowly returned to its previous state, the noise level rising once more. I finished my meal quickly, eager to leave and find some semblance of safety. As I paid for my food, I noticed the smaller elf watching me, his expression unreadable. I decided to go to the bar and finish my night there.

At the bar, a hooded figure sipped clear liquor, the sharp smell cutting through the tavern's haze. The bartender, his eyes darting between me and the elves, asked where I was from.

"Leeside," I lied, knowing he saw through it but didn’t call me out. He knew my destination and that Leeside was big enough to hide in. "Just passing through."

He nodded, wiping the bar. The elves were bothering a drunk old man for money, out of coins and still thirsty.

"Heard about Azamar?" the bartender asked.

I nodded, taking a bite. "Hot. Too bad, I’ve heard it’s nice this time of year."

The hooded figure shifted, drawing my instinctive gaze. Her teeth were too large, canines sharp, and one incisor framed in gold—a mark of an assassin from Whopping, according to Hoseok.

"The plains are worse," she said, her voice rough but feminine. "Hard to see anything if you go that far south."

"The northern tip isn’t too bad," I replied without thinking. "I came in through that way."

"Interesting."

She knew I was lying. Keeping my fear in check, I ate. The bartender offered another bowl on the house, which I accepted, knowing hot meals would be scarce. The elves grew louder, and I wanted to leave. Tomorrow, I’d memorize the maps Sam packed.

"Hey! You!"

I closed my eyes, feeling their gaze. They spoke a bastardized Lustrian, discussing my potential in bed and survival odds. I resisted the urge to respond, knowing a fight would expose me. Humans feared magic, as Aldara always said.

"Girl," another elf slurred, "give me some money. I need another drink."

The bartender, catching on, turned his back. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. He knew I understood them. I was obviously not an elf, so the options were shifter or witch—either one could spell trouble if the bartender exposed me out of ignorance.

"I’m talking to you, bicce."

My eye twitched. The bartender noticed, realization dawning. He turned away, leaving me to fend for myself.

Fortunately, he didn't look disgusted by me. His face remained remarkably neutral as he returned with a refill. He carefully placed a napkin on the bar before setting down the glass. I glanced at him, then at the woman out of the corner of my eye. She was tense, her head inclined towards me, her eyes hidden but clearly watching me as closely as the elves were. They were louder now, frustrated by my lack of response. I picked up my glass and read the smudged writing on the napkin.

"I'm Vern."

I took a sip, nodding, keeping my face impassive. Quietly, I ordered another drink, placing a copper coin on the bar, and pointed at the group with my thumb. I didn’t care what they wanted, but I hoped Vern wouldn’t provoke them. With great care, I picked up the napkin.

Crumpling it in my hand, I muttered under my breath, wiping it against my lips before placing it back on the bar. I went back to eating. Vern brought the elf his drink, and their angry taunts stopped. The one who called me a bitch thanked me in a condescending tone. I wanted to tear him apart, but instead, I drank my ale and ate my vegetable soup.

Vern came back, picking up my napkin and walking over to the trash can behind the bar. The traveler next to me was still staring, and I knew she knew what had happened. They both had their secrets. She stayed hidden beneath her cloak, while Vern saw too much. Both of them were searching for something, but I couldn’t tell you what. I did know, however, that lying would only make me look worse. I had given him my first name and hoped that would satisfy his curiosity.

Another napkin appeared in front of me. Vern was wiping down glasses, back turned, and I was sure no one except the three of us understood what was going on. I glanced down.

"Moland. Etta Ketchens’ son."

So, there was another witch around. Moland was the original land of magic. All witches alive today descended from those who first discovered it in the swamps. Bangtan stole the title after witches began making deals with the ielfen. Their world was linked to the spirit realm, and the monsters that lived there were difficult to manage, so they sent them to the forests. The witches were strong enough to keep them away, but the creatures found refuge in Bangtan.

Anyone from Moland had magic, and I had heard of Etta from Thelma. She was from the northeast. I had never met her, but she was known for playing music and throwing great parties. Trusting Vern became easier. We were in the same boat, and witches liked to stick together. At the very least, I knew I had backup if it came down to a fight.

"Bangtan. Thelma Richard’s niece."

He nodded, his eyes wandering to the woman at the end of the bar. She hadn’t taken her eyes off us since the written exchange began. Her eyes seemed to glow within the darkness that surrounded her face, boring into me, waiting for something. Feeling exposed, I stood. It was time to leave. I had done what I came here to do, and the elves were starting to badger people for money again.

Vern shook his head and glanced down at my seat, giving me pause. Gaze turning to the woman, she shrugged and shook her head in agreement. I had no reason to trust either of them, but I had a feeling in my gut. Even if we wouldn’t normally help each other, right now, we had a common enemy. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Aldara would say I should listen before reacting. So, when the woman offered to buy me another drink, I sat back down.

“They’re planning on following you home,” Vern murmured, placing a glass in front of me.

“How do you know that?”

“I’m gifted. You could say I specialize in mind magic.”

Stiffening, I eyed him with new wariness. That’s how he knew I was lying; he could hear my thoughts. Vern nodded, answering my unasked question.

“I’m not concentrating on you,” he clarified. “I’m trying to watch them. I’m just picking up bits and pieces of everyone else. She’s—” He looked at the woman, “—not human either. She’s trying to decide if she should accompany you. You’re both going east.”

The elves were back to insulting me for another drink. I gritted my teeth, my anger and frustration bubbling over. I’d always been a hothead, but my emotions felt so volatile now. I hated them. I hated everything they stood for. Cordelia’s dead body flashed in my mind, and Vern couldn’t hide the horror on his face.

“Bicce!”

Beside me, the woman turned her attention to the elves.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” she growled.

Their group stopped their taunts, a thick, tense silence falling over the bar. Tensing, I prepared to defend her. She didn’t need to take up for me, but my hatred made the decision easy. I wanted to kill them all.

The elf scoffed in disbelief. Vern’s eyes widened in horror, and he reached out towards the hooded woman. I knew what was coming, and instead of waiting, I took action.

I’d always been a loose cannon, but these last few days had made me feel more unhinged than ever. Anger, sorrow, and hatred coiled tightly in my stomach, driving me insane. The nightmares. The heartache. Yoongi’s blank stare. Cordelia’s lifeless body in the flames. Jimin’s anguish. Sol’s betrayal. All of it consumed me, and for once, I didn’t try to stomp the flames out.

“Swígan!” I shouted, turning to face the elves. I had reached my limit. Knowing I had at least one other witch on my side, I felt emboldened. “Mieltan.”

The iron ring on my finger melted, searing my skin, but I hardly registered the burn. I shot the melted iron like a rocket, stabbing the elf who disrespected me through the chest. Dalion couldn’t scream. When I retracted the metal, there was a hole so large I could see through his body. The other three stared, mouths agape, before turning on me. The dead one fell to the floor with a thud.

The remaining elves rushed at me, their movements fluid and unnervingly synchronized. I didn’t hesitate. The iron ring, now a molten band around my finger, reshaped itself into a thin, sharp blade. I slashed at the closest elf, the blade slicing clean through his raised arm. Blue blood sprayed, and his scream was a piercing wail.

I spun, my instincts sharpened by adrenaline, and kicked another elf, the one who had defended me earlier, square in the chest, sending him crashing into a table. Wood splintered under his weight, and the patrons near him scrambled to get away. The third elf tried to grab me from behind, but I twisted, using the momentum to elbow him hard in the face. His nose crunched, blood spurting as he staggered back, clutching his face.

The elf with the severed arm was still screaming, trying to cast a spell with his remaining hand. I didn’t give him the chance. I lunged, driving the blade into his throat. His eyes widened, a gurgle escaping as he collapsed.

The elf I had kicked was back on his feet, rage contorting his features. He muttered an incantation, and I felt a wave of energy pulse towards me. Instinctively, I threw up a shield, the air crackling with the force of our opposing magics. My shield held, but I could feel the strain. I couldn’t let him overpower me. With a snarl, I pushed back, my magic flaring, and the shield exploded outward, knocking him off his feet.

Vern had been right about the woman. She was a shifter, and now her cloak had fallen away, revealing her true form. She was massive, her muscles rippling under her skin and a pair of black ears poked through her long, black hair. She let out a roar, leaping into the fray with a ferocity that matched my own. She tackled the elf who had been behind me, her nails elongating into claws that raked across his chest. He shrieked, trying to fend her off, but she was relentless, tearing into him with a savage precision.

The elf I had knocked down was getting back up, and I moved to intercept him. He cast another spell, a bolt of energy shooting towards me. I dodged, the bolt sizzling past my ear and scorching the wall behind me. I retaliated with a burst of fire, the flames engulfing him. He screamed, thrashing as the fire consumed him, and then he was silent, his charred body crumpling to the floor.

The last elf was still alive, barely. He was pinned under the woman, her claws at his throat. He looked up at me, eyes wide with fear. I walked over, the molten blade in my hand dripping with blue blood. I knelt down, meeting his gaze.

“You should have left me alone,” I said softly, before driving the blade into his heart.

The bar was silent now, the only sounds the crackling of the flames and the labored breathing of the survivors. The humans who were coherent enough to watch the altercation fled the bar screaming while the others were too drunk to care. I still had energy to burn, shaking with the force of my emotions. Too quickly. I wanted more time with them. I wanted to kill them again and again. I wanted to earn their hatred. I wanted—

“What’s your name?”

I looked at the hooded woman. Her face was covered in blood, and she smiled crookedly. She had deep, pitted dimples, and pieces of jewelry shone inside them.

"Y/N," I replied, keeping my voice steady.

"Lily," she said, giving me a small bow before standing up. Her muscles bulged and twitched with each movement, almost as tall as Jimin. Her hands were adorned with intricate tattoos, and her nails were a vivid ruby red. "Would you mind some company during your travels?"

"Do you know your way through Ozryn?" I asked, eyeing her warily.

She nodded. "I'm from Idris. I'm meeting some friends in the mountains."

Despite my earlier reluctance, this woman might be my only option for crossing the mountains safely. Assassin or not, she was offering her services, and my violent display earlier should deter any funny business. She might beat me in a physical fight, but I had magic on my side, fueled by enough emotional turmoil to last a lifetime. The fact that we were both shifters aided in my trust. We were both wanted citizens if the elves had anything to say about it, and her exposing herself made it hard to justify turning her away.

“You’re obviously a shifter,” I said, placing my remaining coins on the bar. Vern deserved the tip. He'd been an excellent server. "What are you?"

"Maned Wolf," she answered, already walking toward the bar exit. That meant she was half-wolf, half-fox. It would not surprise me if she was the last of her kind. "We should leave. Those humans have alerted the local police about your little... situation."

I looked at Vern, who was quick to agree with Lily’s plan. He would cover for us. Thanking him, I followed the huge woman out of the bar. She hadn't really answered my question, but given the circumstances, I let it slide. I had just murdered four people in a bar. I should have felt more shame, but I couldn't muster any. They killed Cordelia. They deserved it.

“We can collect your belongings from the inn and leave. Okay?”

I agreed. We moved quickly. No one was at the front desk when I entered, making sneaking upstairs a cakewalk. I threw my bag over my shoulder and grabbed the few personal items I had lying around. A deep sadness settled into my chest as I thought back to the fight. I hated flashbacks, but I was starting to realize there was something I disliked even more: myself.

I should have just left and minded my own business. That’s what Jimin would have done. A fight would be a last resort. Instead, I acted a fool for someone I didn’t even know, a woman whose face I couldn’t pick out in a lineup, who could easily have turned her back on me the moment I killed the first man. I didn’t stop to consider that someone else might have abandoned me back there. I was so used to being surrounded by people who loved me that hindsight was 20/20. This time, I had simply gotten lucky. If it had been anyone other than an elf I killed, they would have been disgusted by me. Hell, I felt disgusted by my actions.

Cordelia wouldn’t have been able to look me in the eye after a stunt like that.

Shaking myself out of my daze, I rushed back downstairs. Hannah was at the desk now, and three men wearing navy blue uniforms were crowding her. Quickly, I stopped and kept myself hidden in the shadows, body pressed against the wall as I listened in. They hadn’t heard my footsteps. Human ears were very weak.

“I told you I don’t have any witches staying here,” the human girl barked, clearly fed up with their interrogation. “The old man must have been confused. Vernon even said he was being ridiculous. Those elves were nowhere near the tavern.”

“Well, we can’t find them anywhere else, and it wasn’t just John. Betsy said she saw it happen as well.”

“Betsy?” Hannah drawled, placing her hands on her hips. “So you have a drunk and a schizophrenic's testimony? Have to say, Charles, I expected more from you.”

“Now Ms. Winslow—” one of the men attempted to speak, but Hannah flashed him a dark look. He quieted quickly.

“No,” she spoke in a bored, cold tone that reminded me of Yoongi. They even had the same unimpressed, irritated look. “The three of you came barging in here in the middle of the night, ranting and raving about a witch on the loose who, by the way, according to my records, does not exist. I don’t know where any of you got off waking me and my father at a time like this, but he’s far too sick to be dealing with this mess. So, either tell me a name I can work with or get the hell out. Your choice.”

I was impressed with the girl. She had to have known who they were searching for. I had suddenly popped up, and now you have four elves dead in a bar? Too coincidental. Still, she was covering for me, and I was grateful. It was a shame I was out of money.

“Sorry for your troubles, Hannah,” the man in the middle said, tipping his hat. “Hope Maurice feels better soon. We’ll go and ask Martha and Dawn about it. You could be right about the two kooks.”

I didn’t like the way they talked about John or Betsy. They might have been a bit odd, but they were not liars. I hoped their words wouldn’t get them into any trouble, at least not on my behalf. I’d much rather get arrested and escape than let anyone else get locked up. The policemen left, the wooden door slamming behind them.

“You can come out now.”

Walking the rest of the way down, I hoped my face conveyed how sorry I felt. I didn’t want anyone else inconvenienced because of me. Hannah, however, looked very happy. With a big smile, she greeted me. Lily crawled out from under the desk, hood still securely on, and patted the other girl’s head.

"Congratulations on winning your fight," the human drawled, dark hair tousled from just waking up.

"It's not something worth celebrating," I replied, handing my sack over to Lily when she held out her hand for it. "Thank you," I told the massive woman.

"You need a coat," the traveler demanded, her voice brooking no argument. "It's cold."

Opening my bag, she started digging around before finally landing on the cloak I bought this morning. It was heavy, lined in white fur, and beautifully handcrafted. The most expensive thing I bought next to the boots I was wearing. The outside of it had a beautiful ornate flower pattern spun in a delicate silver color, almost perfectly matching the shade of Jimin’s hair.

"This is nice," Lily commented absentmindedly, handing over the cloak. "Good purchase."

I tied it around my shoulders and charmed it like the rest of my clothes. Taking things on and off would take too much time in an emergency. Lily slung my bag over her shoulder like it weighed nothing, and I was glad to be rid of it. Flying would be easier without the annoyance of straps.

Then it hit me. I couldn't fly as quickly as I normally did. If I had a wolf hybrid traveling with me, I would need to travel in the only way she could. On foot. It was almost enough to make me second-guess bringing her along. Alas, I needed the extra hands, and a guide who knew the area was too good of a resource to flush down the drain. Traveling would take longer, but I would have a better chance at living through this.

"The best elves are the dead ones," Hannah yawned. "You should get going. They’re going to be looking for you all night. Vern cleaned up the mess already, so don’t worry about it. He sends his love."

I nodded. "Tell him if he wants to go back to Moland anytime soon, to stay east and travel down the Syrena River. Most of the witches are in Foxglove now. You both could find some protection there."

She smiled at me. "When my father is well enough for the journey, I’m positive that fool will be taking the two of us with him."

There was no mistaking the affection in her voice.

"You two…" I trailed off. "He loves you."

Thinking back to the moment she was brought up, I had not noticed the same tenderness in Vern’s voice. However, the fact that he had spoken to her about me in such great detail pointed to some sort of relationship. It being a romantic one made me unreasonably happy. They were both friends of mine, even if they did not see me in the same light. I was happy they were together. Witches and humans were not a typical pairing, but I could say the same about my own situation.

"Almost as much as I love him," she winked.

"We need to go," Lily gruffed, grabbing my arm. "I can hear them making their way back towards the inn," she frowned at Hannah. "They’re going to bother you for a little while. Sorry about the trouble."

"Like I said," she huffed, "You did everyone a favor. I don’t want to hear another word about it."

"Thank you," I told her. "For everything. Vern too."

"Go," she replied, shooing us away with her hands. "Go around the back. There’s a small nature reserve that stretches on for a few miles. Keep north before heading east. That should take you to Azamar Pass, but stay close to the volcano. They have encampments everywhere."

Azamar Pass was a small stretch of land connecting Lustra to the island where the Ula’re volcano rested. A large bridge connected it to Northorn and another to the land before the Ozryn mountains. It was likely the safest place for us to travel through despite the treacherous terrain. According to my maps, it was filled with hills and jagged cliffs that could kill you easily. Lily seemed confident enough, so I decided to follow her. She knew this place better than I ever did.

"I know the area well," Lily assured the girl. "We will be safe."

I had to trust she was telling the truth.

We slipped out the back, the night air biting through the fur-lined cloak. The reserve Hannah mentioned was darker than I expected, the thick canopy of trees blotting out the moonlight. We moved quickly, our breath fogging in the cold air. Lily led the way, her steps confident despite the uneven ground. I followed closely, every crunch of leaves underfoot setting my nerves on edge.

The silence between us stretched, only the sounds of our hurried steps and the occasional rustle of wildlife breaking it. My mind raced, replaying the events of the night. I had always been a hothead, but tonight felt different. It wasn't just anger that drove me, but a deeper, more consuming fury. Cordelia’s death had changed something in me, twisted a part of my soul that I wasn’t sure I could ever untangle.

"Are you alright?" Lily’s voice broke through my thoughts. She had stopped and was looking back at me, her eyes sharp even in the dim light.

"Yeah," I lied, not trusting myself to say more.

She studied me for a moment, then nodded. "We’re almost there. Azamar Pass is just beyond these woods."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. We continued on, the terrain growing steeper as we neared the pass. The ground beneath our feet turned rocky, the air heavy with the scent of sulfur. The volcano loomed in the distance, a dark silhouette against the night sky.

We reached the edge of the reserve and paused, taking in the sight before us. The pass was a narrow strip of land, flanked by jagged cliffs and treacherous drops. It was more daunting in person than it had seemed on my maps.

"Stay close," Lily warned, her voice low. "The winds can be brutal up here, and the paths are narrow."

We started across, the wind immediately whipping at our clothes and hair. I pulled my cloak tighter around me, every step a fight against the elements. Lily moved with the grace of someone who had done this a hundred times before, her large frame somehow slipping through the narrowest of paths with ease.

Halfway across, the ground trembled beneath our feet, a low rumble emanating from the volcano. I froze, fear clutching at my heart. Lily glanced back, her expression unreadable.

"Keep moving," she urged. "It’s just a tremor."

I forced myself to keep going, each step feeling like an eternity. The path seemed to go on forever, the cliffs on either side closing in like the jaws of some great beast. By the time we reached the other side, my legs were shaking and my lungs burned from the effort.

We collapsed on the ground, the safety of solid land a welcome relief. Lily pulled out a canteen and handed it to me. I took a grateful sip, the water cool and refreshing.

"Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse.

She nodded, wiping sweat from her brow. "We need to keep moving. There’s a cave not far from here where we can rest for the night."

We got to our feet and continued on, the landscape gradually shifting from rocky terrain to dense forest once more. The trees grew thicker, their branches intertwining overhead to form a natural canopy that blocked out most of the sky. The sounds of the forest began to surround us—the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. The path ahead was narrow and winding, forcing us to move in single file, with Lily leading the way.

After what felt like hours, the cave Lily had mentioned came into view, a dark, yawning mouth in the side of a moss-covered hill. The entrance was partially hidden by overgrown vines and thick underbrush, making it almost invisible to the casual observer. We ducked inside, and the temperature dropped noticeably, the cool, damp air enveloping us like a shroud. The cave was surprisingly spacious, with a high ceiling that echoed our footsteps as we ventured further in.

Lily set down my bag and immediately began gathering kindling for a fire, her movements quick and efficient. I watched her as she worked, unable to shake the feeling that there was something otherworldly about her. Despite her petite frame, she moved with a precision and grace that spoke of years spent surviving in the wild. Her hands were steady and sure as she arranged the twigs and branches, and within minutes, she had a small fire crackling to life.

As the flames grew, casting flickering shadows on the cave walls, I couldn't help but study her more closely. Her face, illuminated by the firelight, seemed both young and ancient, with eyes that held secrets I couldn't begin to fathom. There was a quiet strength in her, a resilience that I envied.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked finally, breaking the silence that had settled between us.

She paused, looking up from her task, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made me shiver. "Because you need it," she said simply. "And because I’ve been where you are."

I frowned, not understanding. "Where I am?"

She nodded, her expression softening. "Lost. Angry. Searching for something you can’t quite name."

Her words hit closer to home than I cared to admit. I looked away, the weight of the night's events pressing down on me once more. The memories of the fire, the screams, and the feeling of helplessness washed over me, and I had to fight to keep my composure.

"You don’t have to do this alone," she continued, her voice gentle but firm. "Whatever it is you’re searching for, it’s out there. But you won’t find it by tearing yourself apart."

I didn’t know what to say, the truth of her words cutting through my defenses. For the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps there was a way forward that didn’t involve self-destruction.

"Get some rest," she said, her tone softening even further. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

I nodded, lying down on the cool ground, using my bag as a makeshift pillow. The fire's warmth was comforting, and the sound of the crackling flames was soothing. As I closed my eyes, exhaustion finally overtaking me, I couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as alone as I thought.

I couldn't see past the smoke. It was a roiling, black mass, punctuated by brilliant yellow flames that danced like demons in the night. Shiloh's voice cut through the chaos, a desperate cry reaching out through the suffocating darkness, pleading for me to return. Inside, the screams were a cacophony of terror and anguish, and I ran, my small feet pounding the earth as I shouted for Auntie. Shiloh's cries grew louder behind me, but I ignored her, driven by a singular need to reach the cottage. I had to get to Aldara.

The distance stretched endlessly, the screams crescendoed, and Shiloh's voice became an unbearable buzz in my ears. I was sobbing, calling Aldara's name, feeling the forest around me weep. The spirits that had once tormented me now seemed my only solace, and I crumpled to the ground. No matter how desperately I tried, the cottage remained out of reach. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw it—a movement that made my breath catch.

There it was, not even ten yards away—a large, midnight-black wolf with eyes like burning coals. The firelight cast a grotesque glow on its face, revealing a blood-stained muzzle. In its mouth was an arm, the ring on it gleaming malevolently. Anger surged within me, turning my vision red as I focused on the ring—a skull etched in fiery orange and yellow. Before I could stop myself, I was chanting a spell, my voice echoing through the forest. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled in response.

The wolf dropped the arm and snarled, its eyes locked on mine. The air crackled with energy, the spell building inside me, threatening to tear me apart from the inside out. The wolf lunged, and I screamed, the spell bursting forth in a torrent of raw power. The ground shook, the trees groaned, and the wolf was thrown back, its body slamming into a tree with a sickening crunch.

I collapsed, the spell having drained every ounce of strength from my body. The forest fell silent, the only sound my ragged breathing. I crawled towards the cottage, my limbs trembling, my vision swimming. The smoke began to clear, and I could see the outline of the cottage through the haze.

Aldara lay on the ground, her body limp, her face pale. I reached her side, my hands shaking as I tried to rouse her. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at me, a weak smile playing on her lips.

"You did it," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling flames. "You saved us."

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. The forest had fallen silent, the spirits watching us with a newfound respect. I had faced the darkness and emerged victorious, but at what cost?

As the first light of dawn broke through the trees, I held Aldara close, the weight of the night's events settling on my shoulders. The forest might have been our home, but it was also a place of danger and despair. And I knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.

But then everything started to change. The flames flickered and became stars in a velvet sky. The trees twisted and turned, transforming into towering figures that whispered secrets in a language I couldn’t understand. Shiloh's voice turned into a soft lullaby, and the ground beneath me felt like the softest bed I had ever known.

Aldara’s form began to shimmer and fade, her features blurring as if she were being drawn away by an unseen hand. "You must go," she said, her voice echoing like a distant melody. "This world is not for you."

I tried to hold on to her, but my hands passed through her like smoke. The stars above began to swirl, forming a spiral that pulled me upwards, away from the forest, away from the cottage. I was weightless, floating, the screams and flames and shadows all fading into a soft, gentle darkness.

I awoke with a start, the remnants of the dream slipping away like shadows at dawn. The morning light streamed through the cave entrance, illuminating the damp stone walls and casting eerie shapes that danced in the corners of my vision. I lay there, struggling to piece together the fragments of a nightmare that felt all too real. But no matter how hard I tried, the details eluded me, leaving only a lingering sense of unease and the whisper of a name.

"You okay?" Lily's voice broke through the fog, soft yet insistent. I blinked, shaking off the last vestiges of the dream. The cool, damp air of the cave was a grounding contrast to the surreal horrors still echoing in my mind.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice hoarse. "Just a bad dream."

Lily studied me, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see through my flimsy facade. But she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she handed me a piece of bread and some dried fruit, which I accepted gratefully.

"We should get moving soon," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "The sooner we leave, the better our chances of staying ahead."

I nodded, chewing slowly as my thoughts lingered on the dream, the name echoing like a distant drumbeat in my mind.

We packed up quickly, the remnants of the fire reduced to ashes that Lily expertly scattered with her foot. Outside, the forest was waking up, the early morning light filtering through the leaves and casting a soft, golden glow on everything. Birds chirped, and small creatures rustled in the underbrush, weaving a tapestry of normalcy that stood in stark contrast to the turmoil roiling inside me.

As we began to walk, the path ahead seemed clearer, more defined. It was as if the forest itself was guiding us, the trees parting just enough to show the way. I fell into step behind Lily, my thoughts drifting back to her words from the night before: lost, angry, searching for something you can't quite name.

"Can I ask you something?" I ventured after a while, breaking the silence.

"Sure," Lily replied, not turning around, her attention focused on the path ahead.

"Why are you going east?"

She hesitated, tension knotting in her shoulders. "I’m trying to find my daughter," she said finally, her voice low. "We got separated when the incursion started up north. I have some friends in Ozryn who might know where to find her."

"I'm sorry," I said, not knowing what else to offer. The weight of loss was something I understood all too well. “I hope she’s alright.”

"I’m sure she is," Lily continued, her voice softening. "I don’t like being away from her, but I know she can take care of herself. I’m just being cautious with the elves in the area."

“I’ll help you find her,” I promised, a sudden surge of determination filling me. “Once I’ve done what I came here to do.”

Lily chuckled, a sound tinged with both gratitude and disbelief. “Thanks, kid. But I don’t think we’ll need your help. Tinka can’t hide from me.”

“But I’m indebted to you,” I insisted. “It’s the least I can do.”

“You’re assisting me during my journey. You don’t have a debt as long as you do that magic thing and slice and dice whatever gets in our way.”

We walked in silence for a while, the forest around us providing a comforting backdrop to our shared grief. There was something about being in nature that made the pain more bearable, as if the trees and the earth could absorb some of the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm us.

After a few hours, we reached a clearing with a small stream gurgling through it. The water was crystal clear, the gentle sound of it flowing over the rocks soothing my frayed nerves. We stopped to rest, filling our water bottles, the cool water a welcome relief against the weight of our thoughts. 

As I splashed some on my face, the chill sent a jolt of clarity through me, a reminder that life continued to flow, regardless of the chaos that swirled around us. And for a brief moment, I felt the edges of my turmoil soften, blending into the rhythm of the world around us.

As we sat by the stream, the water rushing over smooth stones like whispered secrets, Lily reached into her pack and pulled out a small, leather-bound book. She began writing in it with a pen unlike any I had ever seen—a sharp blade at the end, glimmering as it danced across the page without needing a drop of ink. 

“Why are you going to the mountains?” she asked, her voice carrying an edge of curiosity.

“I’m looking for someone,” I replied, staring at the water’s surface, its reflections shifting like memories just out of reach. “Someone important to me said I needed to find her.”

“Let me guess,” Lily sighed, her tone a blend of weariness and knowing. “Naida?”

“How did you…?” 

“She’s the only thing out there worth hunting down,” the hybrid drawled, pulling her hood down to reveal ears the color of rust, tipped in black, and hair that cascaded like ink down her shoulders. “Must be needing Khione. Do you know what for?”

I cleared my throat, the words heavy with significance. “I’m trying to get extra help in the south. I was told they might be able to assist us.”

Lily laughed, but it was a humorless sound, tinged with bitterness. “Naida might. Khione? I doubt it. That old bitch doesn’t do anything except fuck the little whores she keeps in her castle while my friends starve in those mountains.”

I stared at her, taken aback by the rawness of her words, the pain wrapped around them like a vine. “That’s quite a reputation she has.”

Lily’s expression hardened, the air thickening with her disdain. “Reputation? It’s the truth. Khione has power, sure, but it comes with a price. She doesn’t help anyone unless there’s something in it for her. If you’re seeking aid, you’d better be prepared to pay dearly for it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.

Lily leaned back against a tree, her gaze drifting to the rushing water, as if searching for answers in its depths. “She’s got a knack for making deals that trap you. You think you’re getting help, but it’s usually a trap. You could end up worse off than before.”

I let her words sink in, the implications wrapping around my mind like a cold fog. “So, what do you suggest? Just forget about it?”

“No,” she said, her voice firm, slicing through my doubts. “I’m just saying to be cautious. If you really think Naida can help, go to her. But if Khione is involved… just be ready for anything.”

“What do you know about Naida?” I pressed, desperate for any insight that might illuminate my path.

“She’s a force to be reckoned with,” Lily replied, her tone shifting slightly, like the wind before a storm. “A protector of the mountains, they say. If anyone can help us, it might be her. But she’s not easily found, and even harder to convince. You’ll need to prove yourself worthy of her time.”

I nodded, determination battling with trepidation in my chest. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Lily studied me for a moment, her expression softening. “I believe you. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”

“Together,” I echoed, warmth spreading through me at the reassurance. It was comforting to know I had someone by my side who understood the stakes.

We resumed our journey, the path growing steeper as we ventured deeper into the forest. The sun climbed higher, casting dappled shadows on the ground, and the air was thick with the scent of pine and earth—invigorating yet heavy with the weight of our conversations.

As we navigated the terrain, our topic shifted to lighter matters, and I found myself laughing at Lily’s sarcastic quips about the creatures of the forest. Her spirit was contagious, and the laughter felt good, a welcome reprieve from the tension that had settled in my bones.

Eventually, we reached a vantage point overlooking a vast expanse of mountains in the distance. The peaks were shrouded in mist, an ethereal quality lending them an almost otherworldly presence. I could almost feel the pull of Khione’s castle lurking somewhere among them, a siren’s call promising both danger and salvation—a promise that felt too heavy to bear.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, creeping shadows across the ground, we stumbled upon another cave. This one was smaller, cozier, and had a natural chimney that promised to keep the night’s chill at bay. The entrance was framed by thick vines and moss, giving it an almost hidden quality, like a secret the forest had kept for itself. As we stepped inside, the air was cool and damp, a welcome relief from the heat of the day, and soon we had a fire crackling to life, its flickering light casting playful shadows against the damp stone walls.

Settled by the fire, I pulled out the remnants of our meager supplies while Lily rummaged through her pack. The warmth enveloped us, creating an intimate cocoon as we prepared a simple meal from what little we had left. The aroma of the dried meat she had brought wafted into the air, mixing with the earthy scent of the cave.

“You’re a vegetarian?” Lily laughed, a sound rich with amusement that echoed around us, almost like a melody bouncing off the walls.

“Yes. Do you have any nuts?” I replied, attempting to keep my tone casual despite the slight twist of discomfort in my stomach at the thought of what she might offer.

Lily shook her head, still chuckling. “That won’t keep you healthy, little one. Have some rabbit. I killed it yesterday.” 

Her words hung in the air like a challenge. I recoiled as she brought the dried meat closer, the odor hitting me like a wave of something unpleasant—savage and primal. “Ugh,” I flinched away, my face contorting in distaste.

Her laughter deepened, a hearty sound that seemed to vibrate within the cave’s very stones. “Don’t make that face,” she teased, her voice rich with mirth. “I have a pack of nuts and mushrooms in my bag.”

I caught the bag she tossed my way, the soft thud of it landing in my hands almost comforting. “Thanks,” I said, rifling through the contents. “You know, not everyone can be a barbarian like you.”

“Barbarian?” she replied, raising an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on her lips. “Just because I prefer my meals with a bit more substance doesn’t make me a barbarian.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” I replied, rolling my eyes as I munched on a handful of nuts, their earthy taste grounding me. “But seriously, rabbit? Did you have to?”

Lily chuckled again, the firelight illuminating her features with a warm glow, casting playful shadows on her face. “You’re too soft. A little meat might toughen you up.”

“I’m plenty tough,” I shot back, more defensively than I intended. “I just don’t see the need to eat something that was hopping around yesterday.”

“Oh, I see. You’re a sensitive soul, aren’t you?” Her sarcasm dripped like honey, thick and sweet, teasing at my vulnerabilities.

“Just practical,” I countered, crossing my arms as I met her gaze. “I like my food to be, you know, not staring at me with big, sad eyes.”

Lily laughed again, a rich, genuine sound that resonated off the cave walls. “You’re a riot. Alright, sensitive soul, eat your nuts. I’ll enjoy my rabbit.” She leaned back against the cave wall, her posture relaxed yet ready.

I shook my head, unable to suppress a smile. “One day, you’ll see the benefits of a vegetarian diet.”

“Doubtful,” she said, a playful challenge in her eyes. “But hey, I’ll give you this—you’ve got guts. I like that.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I replied, feeling an unexpected sense of camaraderie despite our bickering. “I could say the same about you.”

“Oh, you’re just full of compliments tonight,” she quipped, mock bowing as if accepting an award. “What did I do to deserve such praise?”

I laughed, the tension of the day easing like the fire’s warmth. “Just being you, I suppose.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” she said, though her eyes sparkled with warmth, a glimmer of something deeper beneath the surface. For a fleeting moment, it felt like we were both trying to shield ourselves from the weight of the world outside, a world filled with uncertainty and danger.

We settled into a comfortable silence, the crackling fire providing a soothing backdrop to our thoughts. Despite the teasing, there was an ease between us, a shared understanding that felt almost sacred in the dim light of the cave. She reminded me of a blend of Cordelia and Thelma—strong yet nurturing, the kind of ally you wished for in times of darkness. 

As I lay down to sleep, the flickering flames began to blur into shadows, and a sense of peace washed over me—something I hadn’t felt in far too long. The nightmare from the night before felt like a distant echo, a whisper that faded with the growing warmth of the fire. I found comfort in the knowledge that whatever challenges awaited, I wouldn’t have to face them alone.

I glanced at Lily, illuminated by the firelight, her features softening as she lost herself in thought. There was a hint of sorrow in the lines around her mouth, a weathered quality I hadn’t fully appreciated until this moment. Her eyes were distant, reflecting something that felt ancient and haunting, as if they held stories of their own.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that swearing is rude?” she barked suddenly, her gaze flicking to me with playful accusation.

I closed my eyes, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “Once or twice.”

“Sleep, little one. I’ll try to keep your nightmares away.” Her tone was softer now, as if she understood the weight of my weariness.

My eyes snapped back open at her words. Lily noticed my surprise and smiled gently, a transformation that made her appear ten years younger, the burden of her past momentarily lifted. 

“You were crying,” she said softly, concern lacing her words.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, shame flooding my cheeks, wishing I could pull the memories of my fears back into the depths of my mind.

“I have nightmares, too. One day, I’ll tell you why they haunt me and why they never leave. But for now, let me share how I manage to survive them.” 

Lily pulled a band from her wrist and swept her hair into a messy ponytail. The movement highlighted her tall, pointed ears, a feature that now seemed almost majestic in the firelight. I couldn’t help but wonder about the rest of her—a creature born of both human and something wild, a mixture of strength and vulnerability hidden beneath her baggy clothes.

“On bad mornings, it feels impossible to enjoy anything because I’m terrified it could vanish. So, I play a little game: I make a mental list of every act of kindness I’ve witnessed. I just do it over and over again. It gets tedious, but after doing it for so long, you get used to it. There are worse games to play.”

Her words settled between us, a fragile bridge built from shared pain. Whatever shadows haunted her, it was clear she wouldn’t share them tonight. I was too wrapped up in my own swirling thoughts to consider her horrors—too many fears to confront, too many questions I didn’t want to voice. I didn’t think she was hoping for anything from me, anyway; she seemed content to offer her wisdom without demanding answers in return.

“Wake me if you have them,” I whispered into the darkness, feeling a strange sense of connection in the quiet. “I can try my best to keep yours away, too.”

“Thank you. You’re very sweet,” she replied, and her sincerity made my stomach twist with unease; if only she knew how wrong she was.

I rolled over, facing away from her, the warmth of her words lingering in the air like a promise. “Go to bed. We have a long day tomorrow,” she said, her voice fading into the quiet.

Lily hummed softly, but I couldn’t hear her moving around. Giving up on being social, I closed my eyes and willed myself into sleep. 

As I drifted further away from consciousness, the last thing I saw was the silhouette of a deer gliding through the trees, its antlers twisted into a heart-like shape against the dusky sky. I lay there, watching the creature as I sank deeper into slumber, just on the brink of nothingness when I felt Lily shuffle closer.

“Idiot forgot about a blanket,” she murmured, and suddenly I was enveloped in warmth, her presence a comforting shield against the unknown that lurked outside the cave. 

The warmth wrapped around me like a tender embrace, and I could no longer hold my eyes open. Just before sleep fully claimed me, I felt the stirrings of peace settle into my bones, allowing me to drift away into the safety of dreams—where the forest would guard my heart for just a little while longer.

Translations

Bicce - Female dog (bitch)

Swígan - Quiet

Taglist: @greezenini @adventures-in-bookland @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @zae007live @jimin-neverout @nikkiordonez12 @canarystwin @yamekomz @chimthicc @michiiedreamer @amorieus @mima795 @yunki-yunki-yunki @vskhn016 @keiarajm

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[calummss]

gallavich as girl!dads headcanon

masterlist

making her lunchboxes for kindergarten/school. mickey disliked it at first and thought it was a waste of time but over time he started to pride himself on the food he makes and even decorates it

their daughter running into their arms after kindergarten (bawling)

when she’s sassy she calls them by their names: “mickey […]”, “excuse me?”, “you heard me”

he was gagged!!

ian teaching her how to swim in the pool

mickey telling her bedtime stories about him in prison and she is invested (he leaves out too gore-y stuff)

putting her drawings on the fridge even if they don’t know wtf she drew

mickey listens to a lot of eminem so by the time she’s 5/6 she starts rapping along with him (he gets emotional listening to mockingbird and needs looks at her face once the song ends)

both of them learn how to style her hair. ian’s go to are braids whilst mickey loves simple pigtails

“some kid at school told me i was weird for having two dads”

“who?”

“someone in my class”

“what did you do?”

“i punched them”

“thats my girl” *high fives her*

their daughter asking for the meaning of their tattoos which lead to some pretty awkward conversations

“why do you have boobs on your back?”

ian’s voice shaking: “because i- i…love women”

“but you’re married to daddy”

he was silenced.

mickey also swears that you can tell she’s being raised by gay dads; his proof is that she says “come on girls” when talking to them. mickey absolutely hates it and tries to stop her from saying it

i just know lip teases the shit out of them for it!! he is amused as hell

ian and mickey were honestly not ready to have such a diva in their house. they love it but at the same time it tests them on so many levels

they 100% get tattoos dedicated to her!!

dance parties!! i just know ian and mickey blast lady gaga, katy perry, eminem etc. and dance whilst cleaning or cooking, hyping up their little girl

their daughter crawling into their bed at night/in the morning and they wrap their arms around her, cuddling themselves back to sleep

when she starts asking about boobs, female body etc. they get overwhelmed and call debbie or sandy to deal with it

she thinks the world of her fathers and loves them so much

mickey felt disconnected from her for the first few months of her life as he was unsure how to love and take care of a baby but now he would die for her. he would kill for her. he would to anything to make sure she is happy and safe (he made a promise to himself to never be like terry)

no one knows how she did it but somehow she convinced ian and mickey to let her paint their nails

i have a nagging feeling that someone in the family (gallagher) calls her miss gallavich if she doesn’t answer to her name the first few times

[gojoest]

GOJO WHO IS MADLY IN LOVE WITH READER AND GETS HANAHAKI 🥺🥺

He is scared to confess because he doesn’t wanna ruin their friendship also because he doesn’t want to endanger them as the strongest sorcerer :((

This is sad to me because baby boy just deserves to be loved and coddled <333

i was not aware of this trope until you brought it up and now my chest hurts 🤧 for those who don’t know, hanahaki disease in fiction is when one coughs up flower petals bc they suffer from unrequited love — it can be cured 1) when their beloved returns their feelings 2) when the victim dies or 3) the infection can be surgically removed but the romantic feelings disappear too along with it

i think, no matter how much pain this is causing him (and i mean, this is quite literally lethal if the disease progresses) satoru would never opt for surgery 😔 he can’t let go of you or his feelings for you even if you don’t feel the same way about him. maybe he’s thought about it, after shoko suggested it once, but then next time he sees you again all the hesitation vanishes bc he just loves you so much. the little things you do, the tiny acts of affection give him hope that maybe one day you will see him the way he sees you :(

since i can’t deal with angst AHAHAH, i like to picture that one day he wakes up and is slightly confused bc the usual morning coughing doesn’t hit, or it’s not the reason he wakes up (bc that’s what often forces him out of slumber in the mornings or in the middle of the night) … he looks in the mirror, opens his mouth and observes as if he’s checking whether his throat is sore. and it hits him — he isn’t sick anymore which only means one thing…. you’ve got a change of heart. and i can tell you, this is when his menace urges kick in with full force bc no, he’s not going to rush to spin you in a hug — he will try to make you fall for him harder first, before he asks you out. now that he knows you return his feelings, he will do anything to fluster you and draw all kinds of reactions out of you >:(

[fallenclan]

so!! starting off to say Moon 263 [part 2] might be one of my favorite fallenclan updates ever. here are some more specific thoughts because i have A Lot

the first panel with the "not actually chosen" ones chatting is so nice. the colors for this update are so tasty and really have a mystical vibe, but i especially like this first panel with the mushrooms. also, the textboxes look so neat overlapping. i like how wolfbite is quieter and not saying much while feathersight is speaking the most. it can be inferred that he's explaining about how starclan/the glowcave usually works with darkstone and honeysong occasionally adding on, and at the end wolfbite is just like "all right guys, i get it."

the way the starclan cats are drawn is so cool... the "fading" effect that makes them look all watery, as if bits and pieces of them are drifting away?? incredible. i love it! i also really like how the stc textboxes are a different shade. it's just a neat detail. the star effects surrounding them is so pretty also. i just love how you draw the starclan cats in general, they look so magical. i like how away from the glowcave, their colors bleed past the lines, but at the glowcave they appear more solid, as if they're stronger there. i just,, i love it

the cameos! omg. i literally never thought i would see nick again but here we are. i'm a big fan of all the appearances!!

silverbelly is adorable. i love how excited feathersight is to see her. also, when she first appears, i like the detail of darkstone sweating. despite being a medicine cat, he's literally never seen a fully formed starclan cat before. he's nervous!! wolfbite looks shocked but i feel like this is more about the idea of her being "special" rather than seeing silverbelly tbh. she's like "damn i guess i actually am plot relevant."

salmonskip... i was so happy to see her... she's such a goober. nick's "we all had our own cats we hoped would come" was such a fun line as well for its thought provoking effect. i feel like it's a nod to how there were so many different "fourth cat" theories in the discord server but i could be wrong. we all had our ideas! now i'm super curious as to who nick was rooting for... and also who each of the previous leaders wanted (should i send another ask with my theories on who specific starclan cats wanted to be the fourth cat?)

big fan of the "you weren't actually chosen, you chose yourself" yada yada. wonderful! i love choosing your own destiny narratives. i'm sure nothing bad will happen to our little feline heroes

sleepycloud :(

"you sound different than i thought you would" - honeysong, had me in shambles. honeysong is older than lionsong was when he died... he looks so young here

poppyfeather made me laugh. i love the "not that this isn't heartwarming..." that i read in a 100% sarcastic tone. she is not in the mood for happy reunions!! she has a dictator to depose, guys. time to see her vengeful trait come into effect...

the ending! darkstone and honeysong look so envigorated whereas feathersight looks exhausted and wolfbite... looks ready to "do what has to be done." i love how happy she was to see sandsnap, and then how her happiness is buried once the poppyfeather and cherrystar step in with their plan, as if seeing sandsnap only strengthened her desire for revenge.

i had a dream after this post where the squad was about to confront ravenstar and he was all like "you thought i didn't know about your little schemes? cute." and his little gang rolled up (sleepydawn, flamefall, levi, patchback, etc.). i don't remember much else of what happened but i woke up like " oh no . . . the little guys are in danger . . . " anyway this segues into my prediction that there will be at least one death as a direct consequence of their attempt to depose ravenstar.

-🐉 (giggling and swinging my feet)

as always dragon... you literally never miss

i'm so glad you picked up on the textbox thing, you basically got it in one!!! feathersight and honeysong explaining helpfully, darkstone chiming in with his little snips and jokes, wolfbite talking less because she's got somewhat of a listening role there etc

IT WAS SO FUN TO DRAW THEM LIKE THAT... the white lines made it kind of difficult to see the white cats (looking at you sleepycloud) but otherwise. so fun. your assumption is correct, they're more solid there than they are as ghosts, and then in Starclan they arent wispy at all, just faintly glowing with those white lines (though they're so fun to draw like this i might have to just draw the ghosts like this always. idk)

cameos!! Nick was a special request from my sibling that I agreed with wholeheartedly. he was so silly

"damn I guess I actually am plot relevant" LMAO

yup it was a nod to all the guesses!! if i had infinite time and energy i would have put in more starclan cats as nods to specific guesses (Canarywish aka the greatest red herring I ever fished comes to mind), but alas. and you KNOW id love to hear all your thoughts fuck yes!!! (I didn't have anyone in particular in mind for Nick, but if I had to choose I'd say he was hoping for Snailpetal as well, she's his only surviving descendant)

i'm sure nothing will happen ! nothing bad at all!

sleepycloud :( indeed. i will let slip that i've got some plans as far as the sleepydawn situation but that's all i'll say about that for now

SHES ALMOST TWICE THE AGE HE WAS WHEN HE DIED... i always forget how young Lionsong was. not even 30 moons :(

i love Poppyfeather she is ALL business. "listen you guys can come back to the glow cave literally any time after we kill ravenstar's bitch ass can we get on with it pls"

YES EXACTLY!! Honeysong and Darkstone are the Young Optimistic ones, Feathersight is very cautiously optimistic but has seen a lot of shit and is more realistic about the odds they're facing, Wolfbite is in Get Shit Done mode. she's locked in. her thirst for blood has died down a bit upon seeing her dad and now it is HER job to save her clan. weight of the world on this poor girl's shoulders

i'm sure there will be no consequences. dont worry

[gumnut-logic]

The Awards (Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Alexander Sweetapple series

This one was a challenge and being Australian and not a Kiwi, I beg forgiveness if I've messed up anything. Many, many thanks to @onereyofstarlight I owe her Haighs chocolate for consultation fees on this one (she actually wrote the intro).

Being a Sweetapple fic, this is m/m, and although they don't go beyond the occasional kiss and hug, if that isn't your thing, this isn't your fic.

I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

“Tēnā koutou katoa.”

The room was already silent for the man’s mere presence on the stage. Scott Tracy stood tall, gazing out at the audience, and if he was honest with himself, Alex couldn’t help but feel proud to be an employee, sitting here in the audience, and represented by him.

“Ko Aerana te whakapaparanga mai. Nō Ngā Whenua Tōpū o Amerika au.” Scott straightened just a little. “My ancestry is from Ireland and I am from the United States of America.”

“Ko reo kōrero ō Tracy Industries ahau. I am the spokesperson of Tracy Industries.”

“Ko Scott Tracy tōku ingoa. My name is Scott Tracy.”

His eyes raked the room.

“It is the difficult and the horrifying that remind us of who we are. When circumstances threaten us and those we love. It is those times our hearts must be strong. To reach out and help family, friends and strangers alike.”

“You are a community which has seen terrible loss and heartache. But you are also a community of strong and defiant people who saw suffering and stepped up to help.” A pause. “I know. I was there.”

The room rumbled in acknowledgement.

“This is an opportunity to thank those who were pillars in their community, the iwi leaders who organised food and shelter, those who volunteered their time and energy to look after one another."

“Every one who saw a need and offered to help, all of you should be proud to be a part of Te Tai Rāwhiti because the sun does indeed dawn first on a very strong and caring people.”

He paused a moment and the room was full of an echoing silence as if everyone was holding their breath, simply hanging on the words of Mr Scott Tracy.

“So, it was with great honour I accepted this opportunity to open the Tairāwhiti Super Hero Awards 2065. While International Rescue might make a dramatic entrance,” the crowd murmured and Mr Tracy smiled just a little, “we should never forget the real heroes amongst us - those who step up and do what needs doing.”

For the briefest of moments that blue gaze settled on Alex before drawing the rest of the room in behind him.

“So thank you to all of you, for great service rendered.” Another small smile. “Ngā mihi nui.”

Mr Tracy stepped back from the lectern and the room erupted into applause. Alex found himself clapping like a lunatic.

But then this was Scott Tracy, Thunderbird One.

Beside Alex, Virgil was clapping just as hard, but he was grinning at Alex, not his big brother.

Scott shook the hand of the Master of Ceremonies and quietly walked off the stage as the lights shifted, heralding the opening performance of the night.

Alex’s eyes widened as students from the local high school, one of the most damaged by the quake, stepped onto the stage and into the rhythm of haka and welcome.

Knowing exactly how these people had been affected, and to see them here, proud and defiant, Alex’s heart swelled.

He lost himself in the lights and sound.

At some point, Scott slipped in on the other side of Virgil. The two brothers acknowledging each other unspoken, but throughout the ceremony Virgil held Alex’s hand.

And it was ever so warm.

At the end of the welcoming ceremony, the Prime Minister took to the podium, her stance as strong as her speech. Her acknowledgement of those lost, those who suffered, those who stepped up, and those who saved - and yes, she mentioned International Rescue particularly - Alex squeezed Virgil’s hand. It was heartwarming, politician or no.

And then came the awards.

The Prime Minister stood beside the MC and as names were announced and people stepped up from the audience, stories were told of heroic deeds.

The woman who sheltered three children with her body as a building collapsed over them. Thunderbird Two had pulled them out, finding her physically holding a slab of concrete from falling.

Her hoverchair separated from the crowd and hissed down the aisle to the stage.

A mechanic who had set up a care centre in his backyard, gathering locals who had lost their homes, finding blankets and bedding, and offering shelter from the weather in his workshop.

Amongst the recipients there were those who could not attend and those who had lost their lives helping others. Family members and friends accepted the awards from the hands of the Prime Minister.

The mood was both somber and proud.

“Alexander Sweetapple.” Alex startled and suddenly found both Virgil and his mother ushering him to his feet. “Caught in the Tairāwhiti museum collapse, Alexander was able to save the thirteen people caught with him before the building slipped into the Taruheru River.”

Alex was walking down the aisle towards the stage. He stepped up into the light, the Prime Minister’s smile all for him, and he shook her hand and accepted the trophy and tried his best to smile and not drop it.

His fingers fumbled.

Not drop it.

“Thank you for your service.” Her brown eyes were sincere and both her hands clasped his. “Thank you.”

He managed a smile and a nod, before turning back towards the audience. Somewhere out there, in that haze of bright light, was his mum, Messrs Tracy, and Virgil.

The thought of his smile…and what happened after saving those thirteen people…

Alex really didn’t need the piece of plastic in his hands.

So, of course, that was when he dropped it.

The thud as it hit the wooden stage floor was loud, the echo bouncing around the theatre.

A rumble of amusement from the crowd swelled as he stumbled to pick it up.

Grab the piece of plastic and get off the stage.

He managed it with as much decorum as he had left, only tripping on the stairs once in his haste. Walking up the aisle again, however, all he could see was fond amusement in the eyes that caught his and it mollified him a little. That feeling of just ‘being in it together’ reassured his thudding heart.

His mum and Virgil welcomed him back to his seat, both hugging him, one after the other.

The gentle kiss to his ear as heavy lifting arms wrapped around him was enough to slow his heart rate down a notch…okay, not slow, really, but more redirect its passion from terror to…other things.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur. Panic was exhausting and he found himself resting his head on Virgil’s shoulder as hero after hero accepted their award.

At some point Scott climbed out of his seat and walked back down to the stage to accept a thank you to International Rescue from the Prime Minister - everyone knew IR didn’t accept awards, but Aotearoa had every right to say thank you.

Mr Scott’s smile and Erica’s favourite dimples charmed the audience and the Prime Minister…who, come to think of it, was single…

But the thank you was the last speech of the night. Scott returned to his seat again and the final performance roared onto the stage. Alex was quite comfortable with his head on Virgil’s shoulder, almost snuggled up beside him.

Sure, someone could photograph them, but at this point Alex didn’t care. Besides, it wasn’t like they were trying to hide anything. A good percentage of the world had already seen them playing tonsil hockey on social media, this was small time in comparison.

Virgil turning and kissing him gently on the forehead just sealed the deal.

But eventually the ceremony came to an end and the audience took to their feet. Alex straightened up, but his hand did not leave Virgil’s, even as they filed out with the crowd.

Iz, of course, appeared from nowhere, she and Kayo bracketing their party as they moved into the foyer where a buffet had been set up.

Alex brightened. A little kai and definitely some coffee would help.

Well, it would have if some of it hadn’t been thrown at them.

-o-o-o-

TBC

[ghost-bugz]

me and who,,,, :(

[codgod]

masochism tango

[mars-ipan]

some postgame doodles for pride month

[sysig]

Treatment plan is going swimmingly, as you would imagine (Patreon)

[retros-artandstuff]

homestuck doodle dump

[vargaslovinghours]

The unusual but no less hard-hitting 10½! (1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9)

So as it turns out, I did so many Blank Slate/Have you lost your mind? doodles that I ComPletely broke the last sketchdump lol, so it gets it’s own! Who could’ve figured that making basically a full comic of Chapters 2 and 3 would’ve made just a few too many sketches lol

Because of that, I’d strongly recommend reading what I've posted of Have you lost your mind? so far before this! Spoilers and author’s notes/behind the scenes warnings and all that haha

Concept sketch for Scriabin - I always love having visual signifiers to denote timeline/AU/etc. differences so you can tell at a glance where you are :) His silhouette gets to be correct! The details, well, sorry we forgot those ♪

And concepts for Edgar! I've drawn him in different glasses before so it was a bit of an excuse, using these new/old glasses to do so again haha

But in the end I went for a reference! Remember when I drew Edgar's glasses tiny?

And I mean, if he hadn't worn them in a while, maybe they're just a bit small on him! Lol

Poor memory-less Edgar's musings, it's not just sad to be forgotten, it's sad to forget :(

Early concept of Scriabin freaking out by himself in the bedroom. I'm glad I got to keep it :D

Always gotta draw 'em reacting to something just out of frame

Poor Scriabin, he wants to be close despite knowing Edgar doesn't remember him. He has to face this whole Being Human thing completely alone! Edgar just doesn't understand!

He doesn't know how good he's got it haha, if I was really mean I'd have let him keep his glasses instead. There's a bunch of fun themes either way, but stealing from Edgar while hiding in his own hair is as good as any hehe <3

Blank-faced Edgar, I ended up with a lot of these, unsurprisingly. Doesn't help that he's cute haha

As usual, starting from the middle - it's just easier to get ideas flowing around a core! Also that note pointing at Edgar of "Put Todd to bed" was all the everything of the prep work I did for writing that little section, but the rest Absolutely Needed storyboarding lol

He might come to resent you if you manhandle so much right after meeting for the "first" time

Scriabin actually touches him in the original draft, but after I thought about it, it'd probably take a bit to cross the touch barrier comfortably again! Scriabin's still weird about Edgar but Edgar is wary, it's an interesting dynamic

I won't show off every panel, but panels like these where I think they turned out especially cute Have to be included haha <3 I dunno what it is but Scriabin pouting always turns out adorable ♥

Floof harder! Edgar's innocent expressions ahh <3

Starting to lay the groundwork, but still a bit nervously! It is quite fun how they skirt each other, not quite sure what the other knows - how many lies can Scriabin get away with before he gets caught!

Scriabin using some informed guesswork in conjunction with what he definitely knows, he is rather intelligent :) You can also see Edgar's unfocused eyes well in this one, I tried to draw them fuzzy behind those glasses hehe

These are all lined up like this on the page :D Really happy with his hand expressions here, and his face haha

This was one of my favourite lines - he keeps making excuses for Nny! Edgar no! - I fully admit that it's also partially influenced by how cute Edgar turned out haha, the poor thing - but he's so wonderfully fluffy!

I love this line as well, Scriabin utterly convinced that all his hard work must have gotten through to Edgar somewhere in there, he said it often enough, he must have listened to him at least once-!

And then Edgar completely cuts him off and redirects him haha, they’re both hopeless <3

So mad at himself and Edgar, comedy = pain + time, but this is still fresh! Give yourself some time!

That last line in particular is so insidious because he did that, Scriabin was the one who put him in that situation, and now he’s trying to turn it back around on him! He's the worst ♪

Guilty Edgar <3 Still pressing on (changing the subject so he doesn't have to linger on the feeling hehe), he does have his own questions

These kinds of exchanges were especially fun to look back on from their individual perspectives since I only drew it once, starting with Edgar. How honest can Scriabin really be? He can't explain everything and not be kicked out for being a potential danger to Todd or Edgar! He's gotta play his cards Just So

Edgar is also quite intelligent! Catching Scriabin out in a lie, even when he's trying so hard to skirt the truth!

Scriabin so mad about being called out, gotta rub it in just a little bit that he's Totally Right lol, what a brat <3

Scriabin is legally and morally and emotionally and spiritually obligated to mess with Edgar sexually in literally every iteration of his existence, it is a core tenant of his being and also he really really wants to (lol) ♪ Drawing Edgar all blushed up is just a bonus, who does this stranger think he is! What has he forgotten! He's not some easy man! Haha, if you only (still) knew, Edgar

Whatever he was going to say would just hurt Scriabin's feelings, better to just cut him off before another reminder gets laid out

Probably my least favourite dialogue that I had to change was making "?" into something that flowed better in just-text, it's not the same! Lots of little notes about word choice actually haha. Love them reaching for each other even like this <3

Edgar has all these feelings to contend with! My favourite shot is easily the last one, Scriabin's relaxed mouth while Edgar's heart is beating out of his veins right into his ear ♥

Pls o////ò;

Existence is exhausting

Even without knowing him, he's just a cautious guy :) And he wants to be gentle with him! He doesn't realize what he's doing, what his actions would mean to Scriabin if he could see them, and he does them all the same 💕

Pretty lad <3

Technically backtracking, to Ch. 3! POV shifts are fun lol

Zarla mentioned Scriabin curling up into a ball in the blankets and I thought it was a cute visual haha ♪ Haven't had a use for it yet but never say never hehe

I wanted to go for some high perspective shots to drive home the uncanny feeling of being really truly alone for the first time ever. That, and he's dramatic anyhow haha

His posing was very important to me! Since Edgar knocks on the door while he's still leaned against it, the contact points would Feel a specific way

Scriabin got a lot of「bracket notes」for his section, usually as digs lol, where does Scriabin get off saying that Edgar has no tact haha

More blank-faced Edgar! These were actually drawn separately - could be chalked up to how each of them remember the event! Edgar sees himself as more put-together and Scriabin as more foolish haha ♪

That horrible sinking feeling

I pick on him a lot but this really would be incredibly scary and sad! He's alone, expelled, and the only person who Knows him now doesn't even recognize him! This was probably the one scene I wanted to be just a bit longer, really feel the weight, hmm

But he's also quite resilient haha, he has to be <3 He has enough tenacity, thank goodness haha

One of those examples of panels basically repeating lol, I can only fit so much text per pose! Plus it's fun to see the little body language differences :)

Another bracket note lol, Scriabin has to be the best at everything!

And another, have I mentioned that Kaggie is my favourite of the two? ✨ I'd still like to give both K and D a more sizeable reference sometime! Scriabin continues to be the cutest when he pouts, agh <3

Touchy touchy touch ♥

I do love the phrase "feeling himself" right after the last panel lol - it can be both literal and metaphorical! And that's what you get for not cleaning up after yourself! I swear that lightswitch panel confused me so many times on reviewing notes lol

He's not even careful pfft. Then again if he was, he wouldn't have a mess to grumble about in the first place!

A familiar face while Scriabin's already feeling small on his lonesome, ~it's symbolic~

Ough, it hurts to think that Edgar might actually be able to watch Zeitgeist, not knowing the deeper implications. The thought of him inviting Scriabin to see it! 💔

The most important question, and he hasn't come to a conclusion yet :) I wonder what his answer will be once he stops hiding from it!

Hhhh this has been a really fun AU to write for, I'm glad that I finally put it to words since it had been rolling around in my head since early 2021 - there are so many fun and insidious things to explore! Especially on Scriabin's side, though I still think it's the most fun to be stuck behind Edgar's eyes, an aware audience knowing what Scriabin is up to while Edgar doesn't hehe ♪ Hopefully I'll have some time to return to it after a bit! :D

[l0ganberry]

I never shown this to anyone else except for those close to me but here's a thing I did for my first time drawing all the neighbors in WH (Welcome Home) in my comfort art style. This is one of my favorites that helped me be more comfortable with WH itself. (And to practice on how to draw them in general.)

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

everything's coming up roses

[sskk-manifesto]

And so the big sskk shortage begins (no sskk for the next 15 episodes) (and the sskk episode coming after kind of sucks)