#this thing is vexing me let me call my village people

[sp1derw1re]

Honestly fuck stupid ass terfs, ESPECIALLY those coming for Imane Khelif. I hope all you bitches get turned into yams but the yams rot and they can’t even be eaten anymore

[whoviancumberbunny]

Part Three:  No Room For Fear

Part Three:  No Room For Fear

Vox Machina characters Created by Critical Role

Dark Tower created By Stephen King [Funerary Prayer] 

Annie and Declan, Serendipity Johns and Galen Allgood created by Melissa C. Scraper @whoviancumberbunny​

Title from Title Prompts by @youneedsomeprompts​

Used This Prompt and this one by @seaside-writings​​

Part One:  Stand and Be True  

Part Two: Ne’er-Do-Wells and Insufferable Bastards

They were on the edge of the village that Chroma Conclave had taken over and, Roland joined them, as Tet-Fa [Friend of the group]. It was clear to him and that both Annie and Percy were the Dinhs, as they sat around come up with a plan he pulls her to the side and put the Horn of Eld in her hand “Da, Gan gave this to you.”

  He looked at her trying to hide the fact that in the short few weeks he had been In the life of his daughter he had seen that she was a Gunslinger. Never mind that to parts of the world she is a thief. “May Luck Rise to meet us all.”  He looked at her “Don’t be like me my child. I have spent my whole life not listening to those around me.”   He had seen three figures of young adults hiding on the other side of town.  Time would tell if these people were good or not, they would be people Annie knew well.

 Percy looked at her, the Horn of Eld, like so many other things he had believed that was only legend. Like the vestments, he blushed as Annie looked at him. Maybe it was just that he felt he was undeserving of love , then of course that was also because the demon might kill those around him. Last time she had managed to stop him before he had killed an innocent person “Darling, you should just tell her.” Vex said breaking his concentration “Everyone can see it.  Even her father sees.”

 “Oh Dawn Father, I am not sure what to do with my heartbox,” he hadn’t realized he had started peppering his speaking with the high speech she had been teaching him.

 “All I am saying is let me be annoying?” Scanlan said

  Pike “No these are dangerous dragons.”  

 After Coming up with a battle plan, they study the area a short time later as Vox fights off the dragon “Great work, asshole; I hope they eat you first!”  Vax said as he and Scanlan dodge flames and deadly acid

 On the other side of the town Female figure staring at one of the two male figures. “It doesn’t matter if we kill it; it will just keep coming back,” she nearly pushed him off the cliff “Sorry, Galen.” She grabs his hand

 Male figure you would assume is a ranger by his bow and arrow “And so will we,”  he takes out an arrow his father killed dragon with  “we wait for a signal and we join In the fight.”

 Galen “But Peter, we don’t know what kind of signal to pay attention for. Shaun Gilmore only told us to Meet Annie here because she would need help saving Declan and several other people.”  Galen Allgood, and his cousin Serendipity Johns part of the last generation of Gunslingers of Gilead.

 Peter, who is friends with Annie because she saved his life because warriors of the red had tried to kill him in his sleep just after he escaped from prison “I wouldn’t be known as Good King Peter, if she hadn’t helped me last year.”   Peter, Age 18 years, framed for the murder of his Father and served three years in prison. Tall and slender if he hadn’t been king he likely would have been gunslinger.

 “If we get out of this alive you need to tell Declan you love him, Galen.”

 “No, he probably doesn’t see me that way.”

 Peter raises his hand to quiet them as they hear a sound that was unfamiliar yet felt like call to arms, Annie had blown the Horn of Eld. “Here we go.”  

 On the battlefield, The members of Vox machina had never heard the sound before but something about sound the horn of eld made them focus and become more coordinated.  

 Annie “Percy! Canda!”

 Percy looks at everyone “Spread out!”  Suddenly an arrow shoots past them into the heart of the dragon “Where did that come from?”

 Annie “Foehammer? Good King Peter how did you know we’d need back up?”

 “Will explain that later Lady Annie.” The man said as absent mindedly ran his finger along the scar on his cheek.

 “Scanlan, we need you to be annoying so we can untie the prisoners.” Annie said

 Percy shot a few low level dragons “They are not attacking Annie .”

 Thordak “The Female gunslinger who came with Vox Machina smells of the Queen of the Great Worms.”

 “I am getting tired of monsters saying I smell like Lady Dragon. Your Minions took my brother so I am here to rescue him and the others.” She said as her eyes briefly the color of her spirit guide.

 “The human with the soul of a dragon.  We didn’t think she existed.”  The chroma conclave stops in their tracks

 “I don’t want to kill you. I just want my brother.  Leave!”

 After the smoke clears “We found this In the dragon’s cave, Milady. We think it belongs to you.”

 Roland “Crown of Eld.”

 “I am no ruler. I am a Gunslinger. Thankee for returning this to my family.” Annie replied

 Later at the Keep “Percy, you asked about the gem embedded in the grip of my gun.” She said after Declan retrieves his own gun “Our grandfather, Steven gave us each one of these just before he was killed. Mother kept them safe for us and she gave them to use just before her own death.”

Declan looks Percy up and down, “He’s kind of skinny.”

 “So are you brother.” They hug each other “you are just jealous I have boyfriend first.” She blushes “everyone this tall dork here is my twin brothers Declan. That idiot over there is our best friend, Galen Allgood and his cousin Serendipity Johns. This is King Peter of Delain.”

 “Before you ask, I am not ranger. My father taught me to hunt from a young age. This arrow, foe hammer was used to kill a dragon with nine cambered and I was conceived after my father killed the dragon.”  Peter explained as he cleaned foe hammer. He goes over to Annie “You left this in Delain.” Hands her medallion engraved with the crest of the Delain, a unicorn slaying a dragon with its horn.

 “I told you I didn’t do it for recognition. I did it because Ka willed it.”  She takes the crest, she really didn’t want to be seen as champion of Delain. She sticks it in her bag. It wasn’t humility, everything she did she did because it felt right.

 “Wait….you just said I am your boyfriend.” Percy said as he walked over to Declan and Annie, Annie blushed “I admit to having feelings….of love but I worry my darkness will hurt you.”  

 Annie places her hand on his cheek “Percival De Rolo. Stop being a twat. I can tell you want to keep from hurting me but you know almost everything about me and now you have met my family and best friends.  If you want  I can have Declan punch you in the face.”  She grinned  

 He kisses her gently on the lips “Why didn’t Croma Conclave attack you?”

 “Lady Dragon, she is their queen.  They called me the human with the soul of a dragon.”  Annie said

 King peter “You all have an invitation to the reaping festival in Delain.” He grinned “Lady annie matched me In the reaping festival archery contest. I happen to think she lost on purpose.”

 “That may be true, friend. But Declan did the same thing. Neither one of use wanted to be better than you. We were just keeping our skills sharp.”

 “I knew that when I saw that his arrow went through the heart of the skinwalker that jumped us last year.”   They sit around telling stories

 “Galen screamed louder than we did.”

 “No I didn’t.”

 When Annie gets up to stretch her legs, Percy follows her “Does Galen have romantic feelings for your brother?”

 “they are both really bad at pretending it. I knew if he was told Declan was in danger he would come. I just Didn’t think peter would leave Delain. He’s been working hard to regain the trust of his village since Walter O’Dim , framed him for murder and used his  brother, Thomas as puppet ruler to tax people of Delain .”

 “I wondered why you never mentioned courting anyone. It is because the only men in your life are people you know wouldn’t betray you. I promise you I will do my best to be worthy of the trust you give me.  What is a skin walker, again?”

 “in this region they are called lycanthropes. They tear the host apart from the inside.” She shivered “I didn’t sleep for three days after we fought the skinwalkers.” She rested her head against his chest “For most of our lives Declan and I have needed to be strong for ourselves. It is not easy for us to let our defenses down.” She places her hand on his chest “Your heart and your mind don’t need to be two different things Percival.” When he gently takes her hand in a single move he puts ring he made for her on her finger

 “It is a promise. That when the time is right I will ask you to be my wife. The time is not now.”  She looks at it and it has the crest of his family on it “I added the seal of eld to it too.  I want to follow the way of the beam with you. If you will let me Annie.”

 “It brought me to you, until you are rid of your darkness you can’t handle the Dark Tower.| she stopped just before saying, on her previous time loop only she and Roland had survived  Can Ka-No Rey, in the previous time loops she ahd needed to call out the names of all the people sitting around the fire “She and read the funeral rites 13 times before reaching the tower.  She’d be damned if she had to watch them all fall to the Crimson King again “the other involved were still on keystone earth living their lives mostly unaware of what had already happened save for one, the son of the demon king, her friend Magnus.  Why had gan given only her Annie her memories back, at least she assumed she was the only one who could remember bit and pieces of the four previous time loops. The third time loops she was married to king peter and that was all she could remember. It couldn’t happen again and she’d be damned if she let vox machina die to ensure that the tower would remain standing “What is Can Ka-No Rey?” she finally heard percy asking

 “It is the field of roses around the dark tower. They have razor sharp thorns  they beckon to be picked but they kill whomever touches them.” She looked at him “Why?”

 “When you fainted after we met your father. You were muttering about it and calling out my name in your sleep?”

 “Let’s go for a walk.” as they walk “Remember I told you my father is in a time loop my existence created separate time loops and as far I can recall they have converged at least four times already. You asked me why I wrote down your name.” she looks down “In the previous time line when I had to call out the names of everyone I lost.  I couldn’t remember yours. It is the reason why you canlt remember we have met before. When gunslinger reaches the top of the tower time resets. But Gan resets it to different point In the time and places everyone in different places.”

 They nearly jump when they hear Roland’s voice “My journey was my choice and it has always been, Anastasia.  I can see your friends would follow you to end world and back. You have allowed yourself the thing it took me  centuries to allow myself, to let people help me. You on the other hand let people help you all the time.  I remember that day too.  You couldnlt remember percy’s name at the the base of the tower and that’s what broke your spirit.”

 Another When at the base of the Dark Tower, as the menacing eyes of Crimson king stare them down “I am Anastasia Gabrielle Jenna Delgado Deschain  De Rolo, I offer you the names of the fallen as entry.

 Declan Alaric William Delgado Deschain,  My brother and fellow Gunslinger,  Serendipity Johns, Gunslinger, Galen Allgood, Jenna of Eluria, Susan DelGado,  ……

 “Damn it why did his name have to be so long.” She fell to her knees looked into Can Ka-No Rey. He had came this for with her and for her and she couldn’t present his name to the tower. “Percy forgive me.  I never wanted you to be lost in the void. She  could hear the death nill coming from “I wasn’t strong enough to not lose anyone this time.

Present  day “Forgive me.  As soon as Da appeared in the cave it…. the end of the previous  timeline came flooding back to me. I realized I was leading everyone to possible death again. Forgive me.” She felt her leg buckle but Percy caught her  

“We are not in the todash space anymore. Look at me, your father is right his path is not your path. Gods know why you even thought his journey was your responsibility.” He takes a handkerchief out his pocket gently wipes away her tears “You saved me. Let me protect you.” She rested her head on his shoulder, as he scoops her up to carry her over to the fire “If she didnlt call out my name how am I here.”

 Roland “I did. I couldn’t let you lose her how I keep loosing her mother.”

 Another when as his daughter sat collapsed feelings emotionally defeated he repeaeated the name she had listed along with the names of his friends and finally “Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III!” as the door swung open “Anastasia you can come with me if you want.”

 “No Da. Not this time I going to give them the death rites.”  It would take her three days to bury everyone. “Time flies, knells call, life passes, so hear my prayer.

Birth is nothing but Death begun, so hear my prayer.

Death is speechless, so hear my speech.

This is my friend, who served his ka and his tet. Say true.

May the forgiving glance of S'Mana heal his heart. Say please.

May the arms of Gan raise him from the darkness of this earth. Say please.

Surround him, Gan, with light.

Fill him, Chloe, with strength.

If he is thirsty, give him water in the clearing.

If he is hungry, give him food in the clearing.

May his life on this earth and the pain of his passing become as a dream to his waking soul, and let his eyes fall upon every lovely sight;

Let him find the friends that were lost to him, and let everyone whose name he calls call his in return.

This is my friend, who lived well, loved his own, and died as ka would have it.

Each man owes Death. This is my friend. Give him peace.” She placed his pepperbox on his grave “If ka wills it we will meet again Percival.”

 Present day…. “Thank You, Roland. May Gan always hold you in his favor.”

“We are well met Percy De Rolo III. This is your path. You are meant for better things than I ever was, Lady De Rolo.”

 “He  was having conversation with Lady Dragon.” She said as they sat down and her father continued his journey alone

 To Be Continued

Wednesday, February 1st. 2023

[ikoni-dweebs]

Does your region have any cool myths you'd be interested in sharing?

A few actually! We have three important parables here and whether they are events that actually happened or not depends on who you ask. The Two Sisters, The Foolish Farmer, and The Digging of the Path. Since everyone loves a good Legendary story, I'll tell you the first one.

The Two Sisters

Once there were two sisters who lived together on a little plot of land on the island we now call Aura.

These two sisters worked well together, tending the garden that fed them and otherwise supporting each other in all things.

One unlucky year however, there was a terrible frost which left the ground of the garden hard as a beldum's back. The sisters feared their garden would not thrive and they would have nothing to eat.

"I shall do a new thing!" Declared the younger sister. And so she sat in her room and thought and planned, and after she had so planned she worked and whittled and constructed the first plow.

"Oh foolish sister!" declared the elder, "wilt thou bring disaster upon us? The work of our forefathers, blessed by the spirit of Ikoni cannot be so casually disregarded! We must abide by the things of old!"

"Well!" exclaimed the younger, "let me do a new thing, and thou an old thing and we will see whose methods bear more fruit!"

And so the younger sister hitched her plow to a pair of hardy mudbray, and she used her newly made tools to plow and to sow. Difficult labor it was with ground so hard, but she persevered nonetheless.

Meanwhile the eldest prayed for rain and sang to the earth. She collected dung and compost to feed the ground and daily she checked the garden for weeds and bugs.

Each sister performed her labor in spite of the other's mocking, and come harvest time the garden flourished greater than it ever had before.

And yet, the sister were not happy.

"T'was my new tools that made our harvest so great and plentiful!" cried the younger sister.

"Nay sister," argued the elder, "t'was my dedication to the old ways that made our garden flourish!"

The bickering continued on until it so vexed the neighbors that they declared they should have it settled soon or be put right out of the village to trouble them no more.

"Go take your quarrel to the spirit!" they declared, "and keep your bickering far from us!"

And so the two sisters went to the shrine of the spirit of Ikoni, the flower set by Arceus to watch over our land, Manafyfe, and each declared her own efforts and demanded to know whose work had caused the garden to flourish so.

"Oh dear sisters," sighed the spirit, "do you not see? T'was neither the new tools nor the old ways, but the efforts of two kindred souls in harmony, working together, that caused your garden to flourish so. Without the efforts of both the garden would surely have perished. Go in peace, and quarrel no more."

The two sisters, hearing this wept and embraced one another, promising they would never fight again, and while we cannot be sure they never quarreled again, we can be certain they went away much happier in their kinship.

My favorite is actually "The Foolish Farmer" but a lot of people really like this one and it features our region's legendary so I thought I'd share it.

Hope you enjoyed it!

~Aelita

[yourdeepestfathoms]

i have been working religiously on my book, so here is another part for y’all!

— — —

“I’m sorry, Mister Proctor,” Mary whispered as they approached Proctor’s horse.

“For a mouse that squeals and cries as loudly as you do during punishments, you sure love doing things that will warrant such treatment,” Proctor said.

Mary lowered her head. It still hurt. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. Help me onto my horse.”

Mary obeyed.

“Do try to keep up. I don’t want to be waiting on you. A storm is coming.”

“Yes, sir.”

Proctor was right: a storm was coming, and it hit with the regular ferocity of a Massachusetts winter tempest. Now she understood why Proctor was wearing so many layers.

By the time they were halfway to the farm, Mary was completely soaked and shivering, the cold having crept deep into her bones, turning them into rods of ice. She wondered if this freezing rain had been sent by God Himself to punish her for her wrongdoings. It certainly felt like a lashing from the Lord.

“You could have been back inside by now,” Proctor mused atop his steed. Mary could barely hear him over the crunching of gravel and pattering of rain. “But instead you had to go galavant through Salem.”

“I was worried about my friends,” Mary said, daring to defend herself.

Proctor scoffed but didn’t say anything.

In the distance, a farm swam through the sheets of icy rain. It wasn’t the Proctor property, so there was no point in stopping, but someone called out to them anyway.

“Ah, John! Have you come to accuse me some more? If you haven’t noticed, it’s raining. I can’t set anything on fire in this weather.”

Proctor ground his teeth. “I already apologized to you for that.”

“And yet, here we are!”

There was an old man leaning on the fence bordering the property, white hair clinging to a balding scalp, deep blue eyes sparking with mischief in the half-light. He had a wrinkly lizard’s face and hands more befitting for a skeleton. Despite his age, Mary knew he had enough vigor to best any of the younger men in the village. She heard he once beat a burglar to death with a cane. He was a lot of vex and a little well-mannered, and he loved nothing more than to irritate the people of Salem Village, especially John Proctor.

“It would be a shame if this would be the year your land floods, John,” Giles Corey said. No person in their right mind would be out in this storm; he had definitely been waiting for Proctor to go down the road so he could prod him. He would risk getting ill if it meant he was able to dig under the younger farmer’s skin.

“If this is some kind of attempt to get the deed to my farm, then you can save it,” Proctor said, spurring his horse into motion again. “I’ve heard it all, Giles.”

Corey huffed. His expression brightened once again when he noticed Mary holding onto the saddle.

“Ah, Mary Warren! How are you, dearest? Is the back of your head alright?”

Proctor was quick to step in: “Don’t talk to her,” he snapped at Corey. Then, to Mary, “Don’t talk to him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re going to kill that girl, John!” Corey shouted after them. “If you ever need a place to flee to, Mary Warren, Martha and I are willing to take a servant!”

His words were washed away by the rain, but they remained rooted inside of Mary’s brain. If only she could switch employers. If she weren’t an indentured servant, she would have gone to the Putnam’s a long time to work with Mercy. Maybe then every day wouldn’t be such a pain.

And speaking of pain…

Mary winced, tentatively touching the back of her head. She couldn’t tell if the dampness she was feeling was blood or just rainwater. Didn’t matter now. She dropped her arm.

Above her, Proctor was muttering in his saddle, casting a dark look at the road in front of him. He said something about Giles Corey and something else about the farm and something else about wanting to rip out the old man’s gizzard. He seemed awfully worked up about the confrontation.

“If I may, sir…”

Proctor looked down at her, eyes narrowed. Mary nearly stopped talking right then and there, but she swallowed her nerves and continued on.

“If Mister Corey is such a bother to you, why not do more to stop him?”

“Are you lame, girl?” Proctor snapped. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do all this time? Ever since the fire, he’s been a thorn in my side.”

The fire referred to a fire that started in Proctor’s house, a time before Mary went to work with his family, which she was grateful for because she wouldn’t have been able to handle that drama. Naturally, Proctor said Corey was responsible for the fire, which made Corey file a lawsuit against Proctor. Later, one of Proctor’s sons would come forward and admit to being the one to cause the fire. Proctor begrudgingly apologized, but that didn’t stop Corey from continuously bringing it up whenever he got the chance.

“Why do you bring it up?” Proctor then asked. “What would YOU do? Since you think you’re so clever.”

“Me? Well, I-- I, uhh… Maybe raise the price on the land? Make it to where it would be too expensive for him to want to buy.”

Proctor opened, then closed his mouth. Then, he squinted at her. Finally, he actually laughed and took off his broad-brimmed hat, batting her over the head with it.

“I guess you aren’t so stupid after all,” he said affectionately. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

Mary cracked a small smile. The bad outweighed the good when it came to her master, but she knew John Proctor wasn’t all cruelty and lashings. He had a strong softness for all of his children and a deep love for his wife. Sometimes Mary would hear him reading light-hearted Bible stories to his younger kids at night. Sometimes she would stand outside the room and listen.

Through the glistening shroud of mist and drizzle at the side of the road, the Proctor property unfolded from the fog like a proper country castle. Acres upon acres of emerald green grass, sturdy barns, a fine house, fields chock full of crops and livestock. Their cattle were fat and happy, slick with rain, water streaming from their round bellies and mud splashing up from each delicate footstep. It darkened their coats and made them look like they were soaked in blood. It was no wonder why Giles Corey wanted the land so badly. It was thriving with wealth.

“Put my horse away,” Proctor said after sliding off the chestnut stallion’s back. “Tack him. Then come inside immediately. Do not run off.”

“Yes, sir.”

Proctor gave her one last warning stare, then handed her the reins and walked to the house.

Mary would have taken her sweet time putting away the horse if it weren’t for the fact that she was freezing and her head was killing her. She tacked the stallion, put him into his stall, and fed him in record time, ready to get inside and change out of her wet clothes. However, when she finally entered the house, she didn’t get to do that. She was stopped by her master and mistress.

Proctor and Elizabeth were speaking to each other, but Mary could tell they were arguing, despite their level tones. They both turned to her when she stepped inside. Proctor was already in dry clothes, standing beside the roaring hearth. The flames looked so comforting and warm.

“Stay where you are,” Proctor ordered, noticing her desire to go to the fire.

“Yes, sir.”

“I understand she is in trouble, but at least let her warm up,” Elizabeth said.

Elizabeth Proctor had always been Mary’s favorite Proctor. Twenty-two years her husband’s her junior, though she looked a lot younger than that, she was kind and patient, never using the whip and rarely ever raising her voice. She wore dresses in soft shades, greatly mirroring her soothing nature; right now she was wearing a pale green gown with a white apron. Her hair was champagne blonde and her eyes were a pretty hazel with flecks of gold near the pupils. Mary craved her warm, maternal gaze so much it was almost painful.

“No,” Proctor said. “This is a part of her punishment.”

“She is going to freeze. Do you want our servant to freeze, John? Then what shall we do?”

“Get a better servant, perhaps? One that won’t run off?” He shot a glare at Mary, reminding her that he was, in fact, still mad about that, in case she had forgotten. She hadn’t.

So much for their moment on the road.

Elizabeth opened her mouth, then sighed. She looked at Mary. “Yes, you should not have run off. You aren’t allowed to go anywhere without our permission. You know that.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.” Always obedient, always agreeable. Mary knew her place.

“Why did you leave?” Elizabeth asked.

“Mercy came to see me, ma’am,” Mary answered. She didn’t want to throw her friend to the crows, but she also knew better than to not be dishonest, especially when she was already in trouble. “We wanted to go check on Abby and Betty. We heard that they weren’t well.”

“I heard that, too,” Elizabeth nodded slowly. “How are they?”

“Strange. They slept like the dead, but woke up out of nowhere and started screaming. Betty tried to jump out of the window!”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. “Did she?”

“That is none of our concern right now,” Proctor growled, butting his way back in. “This disobedience cannot go unpunished.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Yes…I suppose you’re right. I say no dinner tonight.”

Proctor rolled his eyes. “You coddle her, Elizabeth.”

“I do not coddle her!”

Ignoring his wife, Proctor looked at Mary, “Fetch me a switch.”

Mary released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Her heart leapt out from the pit in her stomach. She nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

[quirrrky]

For the TWELFTH DATE OF CHRISTMAS a daydream came to me...

A FIREWORKS DATE w/ SANEMI especially ignited for the bubbly and kind @rainysketches. Exploding colors and bursting feelings. Indulge in your dream holidate!

FEATURED DATE SONG: BABY I LOVE YOUR WAY (COVER) by JOSEPH VINCENT

Squeezing yourself in, you tried to pass through despite the crowd. All the people in your village have gathered to celebrate the new year together at the fireworks festival. Right now, it's safe to say that you can't even drop a needle with just how many have decided to attend.

"Dummy!" You felt someone grab your hand. Judging by the roughness, you thought that it'd probably be your childhood friend, Sanemi. You weren't wrong. "You're lost again, what the hell!"

"S-Sane-" Everyone was clad in their best yukata and it's pretty confusing whos' who.

Sanemi looked away with an angrier-looking face. "Tch!"

Still having your hand in his, he dragged you off to somewhere. "Where are we-"

"We'll find the best view, what else? Don't tell me you're planning to just stand there?"

You held your giggle. Sanemi had always been so angry with just anything. At first, you thought him to be quite intimidating, but later on, you found his pouting non-sense to be cute. Somehow, you're proud that you're the only one, aside from his brother, who knew that adorable side of him which he usually hid under a vexed persona.

He had been a fixture in your life. He's the one who's there whenever you needed someone. He's the one who always got your back. Now, you wondered how things would be if you go your separate ways? Or when the time comes that he finally found someone to marry?

Someone to marry?!

Your chest tightened. How can you feel this bad about the thought of that?

Lost in your thoughts, you accidentally let go of his hand when someone bumped into you.

Noticing what happened, Sanemi called out on the person. "Hey! Look where you're going, assh-"

"Sanemi! It's the new year in just a few minutes. We don't want a fight here." You reminded him.

"Then watch your steps." He turned and scolded you. You narrowed your eyes at him as a form of warning, and he slightly pouted turning his face away. He offered his hand to you again and silently murmured. "I mean, be careful."

With a cheeky smile, you took his hand and he led to you the perfect spot, so far. You checked the nearest clock and saw that you still have a few minutes before the fireworks show commence. Much to your dismay, though, the spot you took already grabbed a lot of people's attention. Sanemi remained on holding you so that you won't be separated.

The fireworks began popping and you sighed in disappointment while standing in your tippy toes. Despite getting in the spot first, the crowd in front of you blocked your view of the show. Resigned in accepting your fate, you gave out a heavy sigh.

Out of nowhere, however, Sanemi stood in front of you and pulled your arms wrapping it around him.

"Sa-Sanemi, what are you doing!?" You asked him frantically, and he didn't listen. Further, he pulled you higher up to him so that you're already seated on his shoulders. "This is..."

You're sure as hell blushing.

"Don't tell me you're scared, chibi girl?"

"That's not what I mean! Why are you carrying me?"

"Because you're small!" He retaliated, holding you to place. "Stop moving, you idiot! You might fall!"

Lights of different colors exploded in the sky--they were dancing amusingly and your eyes glimmered with the way they glowed.

You honestly didn't know what to feel. Everything had been so eventful the past year... 

Sanemi...Though you've spent years with him, you're starting to realize that there's still more that you want to know about him, and there's still more of you that you wanted him to know about. Can that be possible?

It's not like he's your boyfriend or anything! But the way your heart was fluttering meant a different thing. 

You’ve been running away from considering Sanemi in a romantic way before but everything that’s happening was making you see things differently. Like you’ve been blind this entire time, when it’s right just there in front of you all along.

What was this you're feeling?

You've been so close that he felt so natural to you that life would feel incomplete without the sight of him. With him, your heart was filled with unexplainable joy that you kept running away from but you just couldn’t help but fall for them right now.

You were spiralling in your head when you noticed that you were actually spiralling in real life. Someone pushed Sanemi so hard that you lost your balance, and slid from your spot on his shoulders. 

With the right movements, he caught you in his arms, so he was carrying you bridal style. Your arms were wrapped around him, and your faces were so close to each other. You got lost in his eyes and the way he was looking at you.

Was the popping you're hearing coming from the fireworks or from the beating inside your chest? How was it that your heart feel like bursting too?

Despite everyone enjoying the fireworks display, both of you were lost in each others' gazes. Your eyes slowly closed. You could see nothing but you could feel the touch of lips on yours. It was just a touch not even a peck but it felt like fireworks. It was a kiss that exploded a new year inside you.

The show ended and you're walking with your hands in each others' still without casting the other any glance. It was just embarrassing! You just wished he'd say something before you reach your home, and it's time for you to let go.

"It's your fault I didn't get to watch the stupid fireworks!" Sanemi angrily complained.

Looking at him, you took note of the redness of his face. "Are you mad at me?"

"Yes, I am!"

"Then why are you still holding my hand?" You fought back, which made him pay attention to your linked hands.

You heard him grunt and a grin slipped your face.

"Hey, dummy! Because it's all your fault you have to watch the fireworks display with me again next year."

"I'm okay with that. Such a small thing!” You bashfully tease feeling your cheeks heating up even more. “If you want, I can even watch it with you even until the year after next year." 

You heard him scoff. "Ha! If that's too small to you, then watch it with me every year after this year. That’s right. As long as a new year exists!"

Your head turned sharply at his direction and you saw his red and determined face.

"A-Are you..." You tentatively started which he didn't let you finish.

"Hmph...Yes, I mean it...You!" There, you can see his faux angry face but you knew that he's just hiding his embarrassment. You can't even hide yours, but it didn't really matter. His expression slightly calmed down. With a helpless pout and a matching tomato face, he said that one thing that you didn’t know you've been wanting to hear all this time. "Damn, it. Marry me."

A/N: @rainysketches OMG!!!! I hope you enjoy thisss! Because I did and I had a lot of fun! I miss writing for Sanemi so this request was totally a savior! Have a Happy New Year!!!!!

EVENT NAVIGATION: #12 DATES ✼ 12th DATE [12 DATES OF CHRISTMAS EVENT]

☾ masterlist: Sanemi ✧ KNY ☾ ⁺˚*·✧ request guidelines ✧⁺˚*·

[idontmeantosoundrudebut]

Many of Horror (Chapter one: This secret goodbye)

Fandom - How to train your dragon (movie franchise)

Ship - Eretlout (+ background relationships)

Wordcount - 3748 words

Fanfic summary - Moving on is hard, especially from something that doesn’t want to be forgotten. But it’s easier when you have someone with you who understands that mind-scarring agony, it’s easier when someone will hold you in the dark when all the monsters come out to play, it’s easier when you’re loved. But Eret is going overseas and Snotlout is left alone in a cold bed. 

The dream is back and he feels sick. Sick in the head. (I really can’t think of a good summary for this, so sorry my dudes)

Tags/Warnings for this chapter - Mentions of past child abuse

So I have yet to finish this Fic yet but I’m just so excited to show it to yall that i just had to give you a little teaser!!! This fic takes place a year after HTTYD3 but the dragons never leave and Stoick never died because Hiccup deserved a whole family for more than one day (Dreamworks, i’m talking to you asshole)!

Also please check out The colour of friendship by Sarahenany and The colour of family by Thurdsday26 on the Archive because it they are big inspirations for this fic and if you love Spitelout bashing and Snotlout whump and found family then, oh boy, that is truly the jackpot of all Snotlout whump fics! Also, the title of this fic is based on the song Many of Horror by Biffy Clyro and this to the first like three lines and you’ll understand why! 

Please enjoy and give me any feedback that you have, negative or positive, do not hold back bitches!!!! Haha lol bruh

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Eret is leaving today, but he'll be back in a few weeks, a month maximum if the summer storms keep at bay (Ruffnut prayed briefly to Thor before bed last night. She doesn't know why; it was an impulse thing). He, along with six other crewmates, will be sailing far up north to the port-island he once called home to establish a trading route for Berk and to perhaps arrange a meeting between Chief Stoick and the chief of his native village. The Northmen are good people, Eret had reassured during a council a week back, who've long been held under the sole of Drago's boot and will gladly reward those who levered that pressure with both miscellaneous goods and a long-lasting alliance.

The only problem with this grand adventure is that they'll have to travel dragon-less.

The Northmen too have been terrorised by dragons for generations and they will not hesitate to net, bludgeon, and flay the first dragon they see, even if said dragon has a rider on their back. Act first and ask later kind of folk, a mindset which Ruffnut is very familiar with. Eret predicts that the concept of living with dragons in peace and harmony is one his people will be suspicious of for a time, but he assures that they'll warm up to it eventually. So, the first few trips will be dragon-less and slowly they'll weasel their Berkian values in, a very cunning plan indeed if Ruff didn't say so herself.

So today is the day of departure and she's on her way to the docks for the send-off, alone for a change. Tuffnut, eager to be out the house and tired of waiting for her to finish braiding her hair, had nabbed Barf and Belch and left her on her lonesome to walk. At first, she'd been peeved to all Hel, rightfully so, muttering to herself about how easier life would be without her dolt of a twin till she remembered just how peaceful, well, peace was. As vexing as Tuff is, Ruff cannot deny her sibling love for him, but she also cannot deny the simple serene beauty of silence.

She's striding down a street of huts, the docks insight, when she hears a terribly familiar voice.

"You better be back in two weeks, if you're not, I'm coming after you,"

Snotlout.

Ruff pauses mid-stride and takes a step back, looking into a narrow alleyway between two huts. She steps closer and presses herself against the left hut wall, slyly peeking her head out to gaze searchingly into the shadowed alley where she'd definitely heard Snotlout's voice. As mad as she is (and she is mad), she isn't to the point of hearing imaginary voices in the shadows (not for a few years, at least).

There. Stuck between a wall and a bulky silhouette, is the short and distinctive shadow of Snotlout Jorgensen. The figure Snotlout is pressed against lets out a hushed laugh, head bowing and if wasn't for that laugh, she'd definitely be able to identify him solely for the dark outline of his facial profile.

Eret, Son of Eret.

Oh, this... This is interesting, very interesting indeed.

"No promises, we might have to delay returning if we see a storm on the horizon," Eret informs and Snotlout makes a displeased snort, to which Eret adds in response, "But if we don't then, we'll be back as soon as we can. Snotlout, you won't even know I've left,"

"It already feels like you've left me," Snotlout murmurs, head hung low, and it catches Ruffnut by surprise, that statement because it's such a vulnerable thing for Snotlout to say and the way he says it, quiet and anxious, is so alien to her.

The use of the word "me" too, makes her mind turn and burn with theories because there is something so very deep in the small, added word. She doesn't know what yet, but there is something painfully human about it.

Ruff watches the shadowed duo, transfixed as Eret lifts a hand to Snotlout's chin, tipping his head up so that they are looking at each other.

It's such an abnormal gesture for her to witness, especially between two people with whom she's never associated such tenderness before.

Eret has always been this tall, handsome, foreign stranger with a silky voice and a self-assured walk, who is as handy with a sword as he is on a boat, who's always there to help and give back to the people who gave him a better life. Snotlout has always been this hot-headed, confident loudmouth who is way too short to be as brave as he is and is way too good at singing for Ruff to admit, who's full of unyielding loyalty and howling laughter. But most importantly, they hate each other.

Or, now that she thinks of it, they did hate each other.

The last few months have been lacking the usual rivalry between Snotlout and Eret and she doesn't know why it's only hitting her now. At some point, they two of them became friends and she's pretty sure she isn't the only one who hasn't noticed, which is so peculiar because she, and the others, have seen the two of them hanging out at the sawmill and flying together at dusk to light the torches. Gods, they drank with each other last night and there hadn't been a single crass word spoken. When did this happen? She and the rest of Berk have gone blind!

"Snotlout, I'll be back. Soon. I can't promise you when, but I'll be back, and next time I go north, you can come with me," Eret assures, and though Ruff can't see Snotlout's features, she can feel the atmosphere lifting and hear the smile in his voice.

"Yeah?" There is something so hopeful and childish in the way he breathes that word, something that tugs at Ruff's heartstrings.

"Yeah, I'm sure I can convince Hiccup to spare you of your very honourable duties for a few weeks,"

"Hey, shut up!" Snotlout's foot jerks out sharply to jab Eret in the ankle, the former laughing breathlessly in response, "My work is honourable, okay? Someone has to test all those crazy weapons Hiccup cooks up and I'm the only man for the job, no one else is as brave as I am," He exclaims, all confident and cocky and familiar to Ruffnut.

"You're sure right about that," Eret says as he again raises his hand and, this time, it comes in contact with Snotlout's cheek, she can see the faint movement of his thumb smoothing over the skin beneath his eye. His voice is awfully soft with a terrible fondness that Ruffnut sometimes hears in Hiccup's voice when he speaks about Astrid or vice versa, it's a tone that she automatically links up to people who are fiercely in love.

Oh, Freya, they're in love.

"You gotta head down to the docks, Eret, you'll be late to leave... or whatever," Again, that insecure whisper is back and by Gods, it sounds so brittle and shaky that Ruff almost considers the thought that Snotlout might be crying.

She would be if she was about to be separated from her lover for an unknown amount of time, Ruff ain't afraid to admit that, but if Snotlout is afraid of anything, it's expressing feelings and emotions (He's afraid of proving he's human, proving he's weak). But then again, maybe it's easier for Snotlout to air out his inner thoughts in front of Eret because, well, they're in love and to be so intimate with someone, they're eventually going to see all the ugly parts that you hide beneath the pretty façade. Eret has probably seen the old insecurity they all know that still lurks deep inside Snotlout, raw and unfiltered, a thing from his youth that made him angry and afraid, a thing that was just as damaging as the scars on his flesh.

Ruffnut, nor anyone else on Berk, will ever forgive Spitelout for what he did to Snotlout. She will gladly say that the day he was exiled was the best day of her life and she will not be alone in the statement. Cruel, merciless, cold-blooded bastard deserved to be Blood-eagled if you ask Ruff and Tuff (probably Hiccup too, no one was more enraged than he was.)

(Ruff has never been afraid of Hiccup, except for once. He's far too lanky, too merciful, too kind, to be a scary guy. But that day, when Snotlout had lifted his tunic in the clubhouse and revealed the ivory scars that were striped across his back and chest, she'd taken a step back at the sight of the inferno that had kindled in his eyes, at the sudden look of mercilessness that had steeled his features, at the trembling fists clenched at his sides. He looked like a man ready to kill, like a man ready to burn then world to the ground, like a man ready to give it all up just for revenge. She was afraid of him that day. So, so afraid that she had nightmares about him for days afterwards.)

"I'll be a bit late, the lads won't mind," Eret says lowly, drawing Ruffnut from her walk-in memory-lane, and she feels her heart tug as he bows his head to press against Snotlout's, "I'll stay here. With you,"

Forehead touching, especially in Viking culture, is the tenderest way to touch the ones who mean dearest to you. Be it a lover, a blood-relative, a shield-brother, anyone who is buried deep in your heart. And here, in the shadows of an alley, hidden and quiet like a forbidden dream, two people hold each other. Soon, they will have to let go and isn't that the most heart-breaking thing? Letting go?

Her heart feels too big for her chest and she almost feels like a changed person by witnessing this, witnessing something she was never meant to see. Will love be like this for her too? Terribly tender and awfully soft? She doesn't know, Gods, she shouldn't be here.

Ruff tries to drag herself back but she's like a moth to a flame, unable to pull herself away from this blindingly beautiful display of love, so raw, so real. She never imaged Snotlout to fall so easily to soft caresses, but of course, he would. It is always our deepest wants that will bring us to our knees and all Snotlout has ever wanted is love, a gentle hand, a place to bury his heart.

They share a deep and long kiss. It makes her feel lonely and she doesn't know why. They part, breathing on each other's lips and holding each other tightly because they know, they know, they have to let go any moment. Their foreheads are still touching.

"Promise me," Snotlout whispers and she sees the silhouette of his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly, "promise me you'll come back. To me. Eret, promise you'll come ba-"

A quick but meaningful kiss quietens Snotlout's desperate pleas and Ruffnut has never heard him beg before, not like that, not like he's afraid that Ragnarök is about to fall upon them. Eret cradles Snotlout's face with his large hands. They are so close, they've almost become one shadow.

"I promise you, Snotlout," Eret vows, quiet but vehement, his lips brushing against Snotlout's, "I promise that I will come back to you,"

Another kiss is shared between them, sealing the oath that Eret has made and therefore making it unbreakable. Eret will return, he has to, and Ruff doesn't know what will happen if he doesn't. Something tragic, something unbearable to watch, something she can't allow to happen. She will not see Snotlout ruined again. So, she promises herself that if Eret does not return, she'll fly herself up to Valhalla, drag him back to Berk and the Gods best keep themselves to themselves and not get in the way of her mission, lest the know the true wrath of a Thorston woman.

"Come on, before Hiccup starts a search party," Snotlout says, voice stronger now that the promise of returning has been made, "Selkie's gonna want a proper goodbye too or she's gonna follow you the whole way,"

Eret nods in agreement and peeks his head out of the alleyway, looking up and down the street in search of any unwanted bystanders. In the sunlight, his eyes glitter amber and Ruffnut can make out his hand, large and golden, curled around Snotlout's.

"You sure you can handle her? I know that-"

"Gods, Eret, she's the timidest Thunderdrum I've ever seen! If I can handle Hookfang and a borderline psychotic Terror, among other things, then she's going to be a piece of cake," He reassures, almost sounding offended, and Eret chuckles softly as he gives Snotlout a fond look.

Ruff watches them step out from the alley into the sunlit street, hands no longer intertwined. She can make out the red flush on Snotlout's cheeks and the faint wetness beneath his eyes, which he wipes away hastily. The two of them share a look, secret and quiet, lips curled into gentle smiles, fingers twitching with the longing to touch. Then, as sudden as lightning, the tender-faces fall away and they leave, together but still somehow so far apart. They enter the real world not as lovers, but as friends, as a secret waiting to reveal itself.

For a few moments, she stays where she is, staring into the unlikely place of a secret lovers' farewell. Who knew that a place like this, small and dark, would hold such a tragic and beautiful moment? Ruffnut feels a mixture of emotions, the biggest one being happiness because bless the Gods, Snotlout has found love and if anyone deserves it, it's him.

At the after ceremony of Hiccup and Astrid's wedding a year back, a drunk Snotlout had suddenly embraced her tight and long and said; I'm gonna be alone forever, Ruffy, but that's okay, I got you guys, so... I not really alone. And being just as drunk as he was, she'd laughed and poured him another drink, dancing with him till the sun came to steal the night. She didn't remember what he said till a few days after and it had filled up with such a fierce and sudden sadness that Tuffnut had dragged her home, demanding an explanation for the terrible look in her eyes.

That's the thing with a twin like Tuff, the second her mood changes, he can sense it like a hunting dog catching the scent of blood. She can do it too, but Tuff has never been one to hide his true feelings while she, similar to Snotlout, would rather avoid the conflict of talking sentiments (even with Tuff). Her brother has to drag it out of her most times, corner her and say stupidly melancholic stuff like;

I can smell it, sister. You're sad.

Tuffnut is a curse and blessing all at once and she wouldn't have it any other way.

But anyway, she's overjoyed to see Snotlout in love and loved, but she's also anxious about it. Anxious in a way an older sibling is over a younger sibling when they start to dabble in dangerous things, in things that can get them hurt. And if love is anything, it's dangerous. If love can do anything, it can get you hurt.

Snotlout has been hurt enough. Snotlout has endured and lived through torture and torment, through betrayal and loss, through things she can't imagine surviving. She will not see him hurt again, not by Eret, not by love, not by anything. He doesn't deserve it.

The others will also share her feelings when they discover this secret love story, that she is sure of. Especially Hiccup, who in the past few years has become like an older brother to Snotlout (like the same way that Stoick has become a father to him, the same way Valka has become a mother to him). He takes his new sibling occupation very seriously and it is comical, the wiser brother and the reckless brother always at odds but always there to protect each other.

There's a headache brewing in her temple. Gods, she's been thinking and overthinking again.

It'll be fine, she reassures herself, stepping away from the alley and making towards the docks, the Gods wouldn't curse them all with more bad fortune, would they?

It's probably the most stupid question she's ever thought, in hindsight.

When she gets to the docks, it's jam-packed with dragons and Vikings alike, friends and family saying farewell to the crew and wishing them good fortune on their journey. The sky is clear and blue, perfect for sailing, and Ruff concludes that she wasn't the only one begging Thor to keep his storms to himself.

Immediately, her eyes are drawn to Tuffnut, dangling upside down from Belch's neck as he converses with a bemused Fishlegs. She's tempted to go over, but not yet, she has to do something first.

She quickly surveys the area, seeing one of the Berkian members of Eret's crew giving his vermilion Nadder a thorough farewell and a Northman kissing his Shield-maiden fiancé goodbye.

The Northmen, Eret included, were intrigued to see such wild and free women when they first came to Berk. Berkian women are hearty and frightening and hard to impress, daughters of wolves, bearers of warriors, the fiercest things on the battlefield.

So it had been a cultural shock to them, Eret had admitted one day, for their home only holds women who sew the clothes and make the food, who bear the children and tend to the house, who are quiet and timid and easily won over by a half-assed sonnet. Most marriages are arranged and many daughters are traded for land or gold, true love is a rarity to come by. Eret is proud of his home, but these are the parts he is ashamed of.

Astrid was the first woman Eret had ever seen to hold a weapon and he'd never met a woman as savage as Ruffnut before. Ruff will forever be proud that she was Eret's first taste of wildness.

There. She's found who she's looking for.

Eret kneels on one knee before Selkie, his beauty of Thunderdrum. She's orange like a sunset, pale and washed-out, with white flecks scattering her hide like parted clouds, matching her ivory belly, and Ruffnut has never seen a dragon with eyes that blue before. Selkie lets out an unhappy groan as she presses her face further into Eret's hand, eyes low in her grief as she listens to his whispers. Ruffnut can't make out what he's saying, but she's sure it's everything soft and reassuring.

Snotlout is close by, she notices, watching Eret with an open fondness. If Hiccup or Astrid walked by right now and took notice of the raw love in Snotlout's gaze, they would immediately know the truth. Clearly, she isn't the only one thinking this because Hookfang, stood beside his rider, nudges Snotlout with a warning hiss in the back of his throat. Never let it be said that Hookfang doesn't look out for Snotlout, he's ornery and easily distracted, but he makes up for it all with his loyalty.

Soon enough, the ship is ready and it's time to go. People gather along the docks and make their last hurried farewells. The drums begin and the chants of fortune echo across the waters, there's an intoxicating atmosphere permeating the air. Ruffnut hurries through the crowd, easily shoving unmoving folk to the deck in her haste because she has yet to speak with Eret. He's shaking hands with Chief Stoick and is about to go up the gang walk when she suddenly lunges herself at him.

"Ruffnut!" He gasps, surprised and clearly a bit uncomfortable, but he'll have to deal with her for the moment, "Thought you weren't going to- uh- show,"

"Course I was, idiot, and anyways-" She leans her head close to his ear and wraps a hand around his bicep, digging her sharp nails into his flesh threateningly as she whispers, "-I have to remind you to keep to that promise, Eret, son of Eret, I'm not going to have Snotlout hurt again. I was robbed of my revenge last time, I won't be again,"

When she pulls back, she flashes him a smile with too many teeth and bats her lashes with an intimidating gleam in her eyes. She's given this look to men who are now dead and it is Eret's choice if he wishes to be added to that mass grave. Eret stares back at her with shocked eyes, cheeks slightly red, and he clenches his jaw as he swallows thickly, rubbing a hand over the raised welts on his bicep. The drums echo across the water and the chanting voices chase after in earnest. After a bewildering moment, Eret gives her an awkward but thankful smile and nods his head in understanding.

"I'll keep that in mind," He says and all the tension in his muscles seem to slip away as Ruffnut softens her menacing gaze on him, clapping him boisterously on the already injured shoulder.

"Atta boy," She cackles, shoving him up the gang walk as she calls after him, a throaty laugh colouring her words, "You better be back in two weeks, you son of an Eret, or I'm coming after you!"

To her delight, she hears him laugh back at her.

The ship finally departs from the dock, sail high and proud as its pushed by the encouraging wind and the waves part smoothly as the bow cuts through the water, sure and steady. Some of the crew hang off the ratlines, saying goodbye to Berk (for now), and Eret stands, tall and almost warrior-like, on the stern. The salt-touched wind carries his dark hair and the sun reflects off his dark eyes, they glitter with a sadness that Ruffnut wouldn't have noticed if she didn't know the things she knew. His smile is melancholic, Gods, he already looks homesick. He's looking at someone and she already knows who.

Turning to look at Snotlout, she can see that his hands are balled up into white-knuckled fists, that his smile is forced and pained, that his eyes shimmer with tears.

Snotlout has always hated goodbyes. Especially ones that aren't supposed to last. Because they always do.

[mimicteruyo]

The Little Teahouse Around the Corner

[Touhou Ship Week Day 7: Free day. KomaEiki + AkyuSuzu, 2.7k, crack/fluff]

---

If described very charitably, the construction before Eiki and Komachi could have been called a teahouse, exactly as the bamboo plank above the entrance claimed it was. More accurately, it was simply a large tent lit with red lanterns, standing conspicuously close to the Human Village.

"At least it's open?" Komachi eyed the obviously wet paint on the sign, then peered within. "I figured that at this hour, we'd have a choice between grilled lamprey and nothing this close to the village."

"Indeed." Eiki followed Komachi's example. There were certainly plenty of people within, each with a beverage in front of them, but the overall mood in the tent was quietly puzzled. Besides chairs and tables, there was also what looked bafflingly like an oden cart. "Something about this seems wrong."

"No worries, Sis! It ain't anything weird! We're runnin' a perfectly nice temp teahouse!"

They straightened up in unison. The speaker was a calico cat perched on a stool just barely to the side of the tent's entrance, grinning at them. "Lookin' for a cosy place to chat? We've got ya covered!"

Komachi grinned back. "Mike Goutokuji, right? Don't tell me this is your shop."

"It ain't. I'm just workin' here for a bit." Mike's tail swayed gently from side to side as she talked, its many-coloured fur catching the light of the lanterns. "I'm a barker! Which I know sounds really weird since I'm a cat an' all, but I can do the job. For a few days, anyway. Steady work doin' the same thing over an' over again ain't really my thing."

Komachi chuckled. "I know that feel— er."

Eiki chose to ignore the aborted remark. In any case, Mike's plans made it sound as though she was doing precisely what she supposed to do. Losing interest in things and loafing around were some of the chief goals in a cat's life, after all.

"Anyway," Mike curled up her palm. She beckoned three times. "Welcome to the Juniper Teahouse."

The next moment, Eiki found herself within the tent with no memory of stepping inside.

She halted, blinking in the sudden light. There were half a dozen customers within, humans and youkai alike, nursing teacups and expressions ranging from vexed to serene. Although there were multiple chairs for each table, every single customer was solitary. What had looked like an oden cart from the outside was precisely that; no-one appeared to man it, although the occasional bang and tuneful whistle from within it told her that someone was indeed there, just beyond sight.

"Komachi," she began, more puzzled than troubled even as she clutched the Rod of Remorse closer to her chest. "We should keep our eyes—"

It was at that moment that she became aware of a distinct lack of Komachi by her side. Only Mike was there, waving her legs in the air and looking very pleased with herself.

Eiki spun around. "Komachi?"

No answer. No sight of Komachi, either.

Standing by the entrance feeling foolish wasn't going to do anyone much good. Ignoring the slow blink Mike was giving her, Eiki stepped back outside.

And collided with an invisible barrier with enough force to momentarily bounce her off her feet. She staggered back in surprise.

Mike gave her an apologetic wince. "Sorry, Sis." Her tail swished low as Eiki studied her forehead for bumps. "After I've invited ya in, ya've gotta stay a while."

"Is this your ability?" Eiki prodded at the barrier with the Rod of Remorse. It proved as solid and unyielding as a ten-foot block of ice. "What happened to Komachi?"

"She'll be fine," said a familiar voice behind Eiki. "At least, she will be according to what Mike told me. You'll be a better judge of whether it's true or not."

Eiki turned to see a slightly less familiar face smiling at her close to the back of the tent and responded in kind. "I didn't notice you before. May I join you?"

Hieda no Akyuu assented with a nod. She waited for Eiki to take the seat opposite of her before continuing. "I hope you've been well. This present situation expected, of course."

Eiki crossed her hands on the table. "I would say so. The situation in Hell remains both confusing and volatile, but that's to be expected. Has your work progressed well?"

Akyuu took a careful sip from her cup. "It has, thank you. I've kept comfortably busy. And Kosuzu..." Akyuu's smile, which bore a distinct resemblance to that of her previous incarnation, brightened and then immediately dimmed. "I hope you don't mind my saying this, but I expected her to sit where you sit now." Her smile grew more rueful still. "Especially since she's the one who wished to come here."

"Has this establishment..." Eiki gestured at their surroundings and discovered that she couldn't call them that without correcting herself. "...Tent been here for long?"

"It appeared yesterday. As for me, I have been here for ten minutes. Mike informed me that it takes at least an hour for her invitations to be considered fulfilled."

"That's longer than I had hoped." Eiki frowned at the innocuous-looking exit and Mike, who was currently occupied with a moth circling the lantern nearest to the entrance before turning her attention back to Akyuu. "Can you tell me precisely what's going on in this place?"

"I can explain that!" a muddled but cheery voice called from the bottom of the oden cart.

---

Komachi had walked merrily along for several minutes, taking in the twilight air and seeing if she could get her breath to fog up in the lingering cold from the past winter, when she realised she had at no point decided to take an evening stroll. Moreover, she was now alone, something which was the exact opposite of her plans for the night.

She halted in the middle of the path and turned to look over her shoulder. The greenness of the teahouse tent blended into the evening behind her, but she could still see it when she squinted. Distance of course meant little to her: she could be back there nearly as soon as she decided upon it.

But first, it was best to figure what had happened. It was likely nothing serious: the situation had the feel of a fairy prank to it. Still, the fact that she couldn't actually remember what had passed rubbed her the wrong way.

"Alright..." She adjusted her scythe to rest more comfortably on her shoulder. "What happened here?"

So, there was the weird teahouse, and Mike, who did strike Komachi as bit of a prankster, but who had seemed earnest enough inviting them in. Had Mike addressed her invitation to Lady Eiki alone? No, Komachi was sure it had been extended to them both.

She recalled her only previous encounter with Mike, on a lazy afternoon not that long ago when she had wandered into Gensokyo and struck up a conversation with the cat upon meeting her on the road. Mike had mentioned arriving in Gensokyo not that long ago, having only recently left behind the temple she had been born at, and that due to circumstances she had done so before she had completed her training as a maneki—

"Damn."

At the moment of realisation, Komachi became aware of of running footsteps rapidly approaching her, just in time not to be entirely surprised by someone small but fast-moving crashing into her.

"Ow!" The person who had collided with her tottered back, holding a hand to her nose. Even in the dying light and with half her face covered, she was obviously Kosuzu Motoori. "I'm sorry! I just..."

Kosuzu trailed off. Her eyes travelled first up to Komachi's face, then to the blade of her scythe. She took a startled step back.

Komachi grinned. "No need to fret. You're not dying tonight."

Kosuzu relaxed quickly in that quietly alarming way of humans who made of habit of traipsing too close to the border of the mundane and the supernatural. As her shock drained away, it was replaced by an almost mournful expression, so out of place it was almost comical.

"What's the matter?" Komachi almost began walking to see if Kosuzu would follow, but she had a funny feeling it would only result in Kosuzu crashing into her again. "It's not wise for you to run alone on a dark night like this. Did someone refuse to return your favourite book?"

Kosuzu fidgeted with her sleeves. "No, nothing like that." For a moment, she looked hesitant to speak, but once she did, the words spilled out of her in a tumble. "Actually, it's our anniversary today."

"Whose?"

Kosuzu's cheeks flushed pink. "Mine and Akyuu's."

"Really?" Komachi couldn't help but chuckle. "That's a funny coincidence."

"What is?"

"Never mind." Komachi relaxed her stance. "Let's see if I can guess what happened. Since it was your anniversary, you decided to go out to celebrate."

"That's right."

"And you happened upon a new, strange teahouse."

"Exactly!" Kosuzu halted her eager nodding to blink. "How did you know?"

"Because it sounds like we're in the same figurative boat."

"Oh." Kosuzu smiled weakly. "I suppose that's better than a literal boat. Um, I mean..."

Komachi laughed. "That'll be another day." Before Kosuzu could become too unsettled, she nudged her head towards the road behind them. "Come on. Let's go find our dates."

---

"Here you go." Suika Ibuki slammed the teacup onto the table with enough force to make half the liquid within leap into the air. Miraculously, not only were both the table and cup undamaged, but the drink returned into the cup without so much as a single drop spilling. She winked. "I'd say it's on the house, but I'm guessing you'd take that for a bribe."

Eiki took the cup gingerly. Seeing its contents in the air had already made it obvious it was filled with anything but tea, but the scent confirmed it. "Is this sake?"

"Well, yeah."

"The sign outside said you're running a teahouse."

"Yeah, yeah. Is there a law saying you can't serve sake in a teahouse?"

Eiki had to concede the point. "Not in Gensokyo, no."

"See? Try it. It's good." Suika turned towards Akyuu. "Care for a refill?"

As Akyuu murmured a demurral, Eiki took a sip from her drink. It was indeed rather good, but that was beside the real matter at hand. She looked up. "Suika—"

Suika had already left the table. Eiki watched her stalk around the tent, grinning as she went, gathering empty cups and refilling others with seemingly no input from the patrons.

"So where was I?" She returned and cheerfully pulled out the remaining seat for herself. If she was discomfited by any lingering memories of the less than auspicious circumstances during which she had last encountered Eiki, she showed no signs of it, instead beaming with the brightness shared by the very innocent and inveterate liars. "A story of some kind?"

"You were about to explain why we can't leave."

"Yeah, that's right. So this teahouse is just a bit of fun. I'll get going as soon as Reimu finds out I've set up shop this close to the village." Suika grinned. "Actually, I think I'll wait for her to show up. It's more fun that way."

Akyuu offered her a polite smile. Eiki pushed her cup aside. "And then you hired Mike?"

"That's right." Suika took Eiki's cup and downed it in a single long swig before continuing. "Of course, I don't really need her to gather customers. I can use my foregathering ability to bring people over just fine. But it feels more like a proper teahouse with an employee, doesn't it?"

"A floor might have a similar effect," commented Akyuu dryly.

"Anyway, since Mike can only invite one person in at a time, I decided to gather people into the area so that even if only half of them got in we'd still have plenty of customers. It worked really well, too. Until people tried to leave. I tried making the people disperse once they got stuck, obviously, but for some reason it only worked on those who hadn't been invited in at all. I'm guessing our abilities got entangled in some mysterious way."

Eiki nodded. "I see."

"Anyway, you don't have to worry. Everyone gets to leave eventually. Even the person stuck for the longest managed to walk out after two hours."

Akyuu set her cup down. "At least one of us may not have to wait for that long." She raised her voice. "Mike?"

Mike, who was no longer paying attention to the moth and was instead swinging her leg back and forth, jerked her head upwards. "What's up, Sis?"

"Can you step out for a moment?"

"Sure." Mike dove out. "Now what?"

Akyuu stood up and nodded at Suika. "Thank you for your hospitality." She gestured at Eiki to join her at the tent's entrance and waited until they were both there before speaking again. "Mike, can you attempt to invite us outside?"

"Oh, I see." Eiki smiled as she grasped Akyuu's intent. "Even if the invitation can only work on one of us, it still means one of us will be free to go."

"I hope you're the one invited out." Akyuu's smile was thin but sincere. "Unnerving as it is being this close to multiple youkai, I have made my peace with waiting here. After all, by remaining in one place I have better odds of re-uniting with—"

"Akyuu!"

They turned to look outside. Kosuzu hovered right behind Mike, bopping her head around in an effort to see past her. Behind her, calm but still curious, stood Komachi. Upon noticing Eiki, she gave her a cheery little wave.

Akyuu's smile immediately warmed to the point where its brightness was a match to the lanterns. "Everything is fine, Kosuzu. It's only a small supernatural obstacle."

Kosuzu gave a distracted nod, then turned towards Mike, looking almost ready to put hands on the cat. "Please invite us in!"

Mike's eyes darted from Komachi and Kosuzu to Akyuu and Eiki and then back. She frowned. "Kay, how about we try somethin' like this?"

She positioned herself in the tent's entrance, one foot in, one foot out. Before anyone could do anything to stop her, she beckoned with both hands. "Welcome!"

The next thing Eiki knew, she had collided with something unyielding but relatively soft.

"Oof." Komachi staggered back, then reached out to steady Eiki. She grinned. "At this rate I'm going to be qualified to work as a roadblock."

Back on her feet, Eiki looked around. She was outside again, with Komachi's hands on her arms and the tent securely behind. "Who knows how far I would have walked if you hadn't stopped me. Thank you for catching me."

"Did you ever doubt I wouldn't?"

Eiki smiled back at her. "No. I didn't."

They looked back. Within the tent, Kosuzu was clinging to Akyuu's arm, speaking rapidly but too quietly for any discernible words to make it outside the tent. Mike was watching them from her perch, smiling with self-satisfaction.

"Well, that worked out great." Suika came to the entrance, beaming as though Mike's success was hers as well. "Must be fate." She winked. "And don't worry about paying. The drink was on the house after all."

Given that most of the drink remained in the house, Eiki found little cause to complain. "Thank you." She frowned. "Don't invite more people in until you have understood what causes this. Consider—"

"Yeah, sure." Suika made a sweeping wave. "Have a good night!"

She retreated back into the tent. Only Mike remained near the entrance, still pleased with herself.

"That didn't exactly work out, huh?" said Komachi, smiling all the while.

"Yes, I suppose it didn't." Eiki watched Akyuu and Kosuzu retake the table Akyuu had previously occupied, smiling at each other all as though they were the only two people in the world. "But it doesn't seem to have done any harm, either. Should we consider the grilled lamprey stand?"

"Funny. I was just thinking I was in the mood for some fried fish." Komachi let go to adjust her scythe, which had nearly fallen from her shoulder in the collision, then held out her hand. "How about we go see what else fate has in store for us tonight?"

And so they did, continuing down the road together, filled with newfound appreciation for the beauty of spring nights.

[mariequitecontrarie]

Tickled

A Rumbelle Dark Castle Fic

Summary: When Belle first hears Rumplestiltskin laugh, she’s determined to make it happen again. A/N: My @rumbellechristmasinjuly present for @silwenworld. I’m so sorry this is late, friend. I tried to weave some references in to Polish culture and hope it makes you smile. This fic is basically two Dark Castle Dorks squabbling like old marrieds.   On AO3

Rumplestiltskin laughed. It wasn't his usual twittering giggle or the short, falsetto snicker reserved for particularly irritating nobles who called upon his power. It was a low, rumbling laugh, deep and genuine. His sides shook and his eyes crinkled at the corners, the lines fanning out almost to his temples. Even the crimped mop of hair on his head quivered with amusement. As soon as Belle heard it, she wanted to make it happen again. The sound was so surprising that she almost dropped the heavy basket filled with bread balanced on her hip. She slid the rolls and baguettes to safety onto the kitchen counter and spun around to give him her full attention, waiting for more. But the laughter was gone, the sparkle in his gaze shuttered, and all traces of mirth wiped from his expression. And though the atmosphere in the kitchen had shifted, she couldn’t let the moment go by unmentioned.

“You laughed,” she said, astonished at the generous, happy sound. She could almost hear its faint, deep echo in the kitchen rafters.

“Stop gaping at me, woman, I did nothing of the sort.”

“Deny it all you like,” she said with a growing smile. “But I heard it.”

Rumplestiltskin affected a dramatic pose and waved his arms in his signature flourish. “I laugh all the time,” he said and punctuated the words with a maddening giggle. “You’ve never commented on it before.”

Belle crossed her arms. This had been different and they’d both known it. The panicked glaze in his eyes was proof enough. “You laugh in mockery or to protect yourself. Just now you sounded happy. Joyful.”

“What an impertinent caretaker you are.” He wagged a finger at her. “Did you trouble your father this much when you lived in his household? No, don’t bother answering. The hairs on my head are turning white even as we speak.”

Belle rolled her eyes. Rumplestiltskin was immortal and although he was somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 years old, he didn’t have a single grey hair that Belle could find. Besides, any grey hair he’d earned came long before her arrival.

“Always changing the subject.” She rewarded his discomfiture with a sassy grin, then sashayed to the other side of the kitchen behind the large island, putting a safe distance between them. Alongside her delight and triumph at hearing his laughter, there was a strange, unfamiliar sense of warmth overtaking her. Smoothing the skirt of her dress with damp palms, she watched a spider methodically weave its web into the corner of the kitchen wall while she thought up a task to soothe her jitters. She wasn’t sure why, but the sound of Rumplestiltskin’s laughter had made her pulse skitter and her breath quicken. And when he’d stood close, his breath fanning her face as he laughed, the sweet aroma of magic and straw had overwhelmed the yeasty fragrance of bread.

Closing her eyes, she tried to commit the sound to memory. A shiver chased up her spine. His laughter had been intoxicating. Primal and full of life.

Shaking herself out of her daydream, Belle opened her eyes. The nearness of her employer didn’t typically affect her this way. At any rate, dinner and dessert wouldn’t make themselves, so she needed to get back to work. She squatted down to peruse the cookbooks on the shelves beneath the countertops, searching out one filled with cake recipes. Something with peaches would do nicely. The village bakery usually delivered cakes for Rumplestilsktin’s tea with the bread, but today they were out. It was her own fault; the riveting story she’d been reading yesterday had so engrossed her that she forgot to place the usual order. Thankfully there was always plenty of bread.

Burned cakes, Rumplestiltskin often said, were tolerable. Burned bread, however, was an abomination.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh!” She stood up too quickly and narrowly escaped banging her head on the underside of the counter.

His voice had floated as though he was standing right behind her, but he was clear across the room, a wicked grin plastered across his face. One leather-clad hip leaned indolently against the molding of the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

She hated it when he tossed his voice. “Rumplestiltskin!” She stomped her foot. “Don’t you have a potion to mix or a nobleman to vex?” Raising an eyebrow, he snapped his fingers. A bialy from the top of the breadbasket floated across the kitchen island and into his outstretched hand. “What a peculiar little thing you are,” he said. And before she could respond, he disappeared in a poof of red smoke.

Belle peeked around the corners and opened the pantry door just in case he was still hiding. No sign of him. Her sigh of relief met the cool kitchen air in a puff of steam. Alone at last, she put the kettle on to boil water for tea.

Ordinarily, Rumplestiltskin’s grand exits were frustrating—most people couldn’t poof in and out of rooms and realms at will. He also had a distressing penchant for disappearing in the middle of an argument, and often right before she was going to make a point. Yelling into an empty room was both embarrassing and disconcerting. Today, however, his presence was an unwelcome distraction.

She needed a plan.

Something had amused him enough to inspire the most wonderful laughter she had ever heard, and Belle was determined to discover what it was. The kettle whistled and while she prepared some black orange peel tea, she mulled over the possible events that had led to his laughter. When the sweetness of oranges perfumed the room, she brought her cookbook and tea to the worktable and sat down on her usual stool.

They’d been here together in the kitchen. He was pilfering a sweet snack, and she was accepting the bread delivery from the bakery. When she sidled by him with the bread basket, he laughed like he was hearing the finest tale in half a century.

Most people considered him a monster and would sooner relegate him to the pit of hell than care about what could possibly amuse the Dark One. But after almost a year of living at the Dark Castle in his service, Belle knew there was more to Rumplestiltskin than he revealed to the world.

Hadn’t he gifted her with a beautiful room overlooking the castle gardens and outfitted her with lovely and comfortable clothes in every shade of her favorite color blue? He encouraged her to correspond with her father and even allowed her to visit with a friend a time or two. He fussed over her when she worked too much and tucked her into bed with soup and tea when she was ill. And then there was the sumptuous tower library built just for her. It was her room alone and no one else was allowed inside without permission, he said. When he sought her out, the library and her bedroom were the two places he knocked and waited for her invitation before entering, even when the doors were wide open.  

Rumplestiltskin was a dangerous person—she wasn’t oblivious. But beneath his otherworldly exterior and mystical trappings lurked a sad, melancholy man who had lost his son and faced more than two centuries of loneliness. From the scant handful of stories he had willingly shared, she knew the life he’d had before he met the darkness had been years of rejection and ridicule. Life, she suspected, had offered him precious few reasons to laugh.

While a future as an indentured servant wasn’t the life she would have chosen for herself, living with Rumplestiltskin wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, if she were forced to choose between Rumple and her father, it would be a hard choice to make. Besides, she was here and she had promised to stay forever. It gave her a sense of purpose to care for someone other than herself. Perhaps if she could offer him more reasons to laugh he wouldn’t be so distant, so angry. Maybe he wouldn’t always choose to hide behind a mask. Now, how could she get Rumplestiltskin to laugh again?

A commotion from the ornate cuckoo clock spurred her to action. With only two hours until supper, she needed to hurry. Off to the pantry she went in search of the flour and sugar for the cake.

xoxo After the supper dishes were cleared away, Belle watched carefully from her perch on the settee as Rumple picked up a slice of her freshly baked babka and sniffed. “It’s Wednesday. I thought there would be peach tarts.” The remark drifted down the long table in the center of the great hall, his tone carrying a hint of accusation. She decided against telling him she’d botched the bakery order. “There are peach preserves in this,” she said, hoping to mollify him. “And I made it myself.” Shrugging, he gulped the slice of cake in two bites. “Not the worst I’ve eaten.” Belle hid a smile. Coming from Rumplestiltskin, that was a compliment. He slurped sugar-laced tea from the cup she’d chipped on her first day of service in the castle and ate three more pieces of pastry from the tray. Belle edged forward in her seat, knocking a pillow to the floor when she shifted. Now perhaps he would laugh again. But although he hummed his appreciation for the food, there was no laughter. Disappointed, she scooped up the fallen pillow and hugged it to her middle. Perhaps she should have slipped up to his laboratory and taken some laughing potion to stir into the recipe. Surely such a thing existed. “Aren’t you having any?” he asked, then filled her cup with tea without waiting for an answer. He set two slices of cake on a plate and walked the length of the room to deliver them. When she accepted the plate, their sleeves brushed at the wrist. He backed away as though her clothes were on fire. Belle chewed her lip. It wasn’t like him to be so skittish. “Do I have germs or something?” “No more than usual.” His gaze shifted to the discarded novel on the floor and he settled in the wingback chair opposite the settee. He steepled his fingers. “You’re quiet today. What ails you? Plotting my demise?” “Nothing ails me.” She mustered her sweetest smile. “Everything is fine.” “Indeed?” He harrumphed. “Take a bite of your cake so I know you’ve not a mind to poison me.” “You’ve already eaten five pieces and you’re no worse for wear,” she pointed out, but she bit into the sweet cinnamon-laced confection to appease him anyway. It was good. She congratulated herself on her most successful baking venture thus far, since it seemed no one else was going to. “Touché,” he grunted. “Keep eating, please, so you don’t waste away and force me to send you home to your papa as a bag of bones. You barely touched your supper.” It was true she hadn’t had much appetite. She had been too busy watching him and wondering how she could inspire more of this afternoon’s beautiful laughter. She sank her teeth into a massive bite of cake and lifted her chin. “Why Rumplestiltskin,” she said after swallowing, “I didn’t know you cared.” He left the table in another poof of smoke and maniacal laughter. Not quite the reaction she was hoping for, but she could be stubborn as well. The game had only begun. xoxo

Over the next few weeks, Belle tried every technique she could think of to amuse Rumplestiltskin. Jokes, stories, a feather duster to tickle his sharp nose. She even traipsed through the great hall while he was spinning with a basket overflowing with bread, the same as she did the day she first heard his laughter. Jogging his memory of that day in the kitchen would surely work. But she was so focused on his reaction that she tripped over her own feet and dumped the basket on the floor. Rolls flew in every direction--onto the carpet, into the fire, and under the display cabinets filled with treasures from other lands. One piece of bread even landed on her head.

No reaction from Rumplestiltskin. Not even a snigger at Belle's expense.

Sweeping up the mess took so long she got a cramp in her shoulder. The crumbs tangled in her hair had to be washed out. At least there would be plenty of stale crusts to feed the birds.

Turning to the vast Dark Castle library, she scoured the dust-choked shelves for entertaining comedies. Without question, one of these was bound to make Rumplestiltskin laugh uproariously. Each evening for a week she read to Rumplestiltskin by the light of the fire, producing book after book until her fingers had papercuts and even she wanted a break from words. She’d even gone so far as to translate the work of a Polish author from The Land Without Magic by the name of Elżbieta Cherezińska.

Rumplestiltskin had snorted a time or two and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips, but he didn’t laugh at a single story. On the seventh evening of reading, he ordered Belle to her bedroom with a pot of hot tea and a dram of whiskey to soothe her raw throat.

“That’s the fifth time you’ve coughed in an hour and your voice is starting to resemble a giant,” he’d said.

Too bewildered by being packed off to bed with Rumplestiltskin clucking at her like a mother hen, it didn’t occur to Belle to be insulted. Next, she tried concocting a potion for laughing. Yes, she should have tried this on the first day, she’d thought as the burgundy syrup bubbled on the stove. Magic helped Rumplestiltskin achieve his ends and there was no reason it couldn’t work for her. If only she hadn’t gone into the laundry room to wash Rumplestiltskin’s aprons. But she had, forgetting that the contents of the spell required complete concentration. Most of the potion boiled over leaving her without a key ingredient—whitehaven petal—and it wouldn’t become available again until the summer. Chagrined, Belle looked between the mess on the stove and the snowdrifts blowing against the window. Four months was too long to wait.

Hoping for the best, she scraped some of the sticky gooey liquid off the counter and stirred it into Rumple’s lunch.

Once consumed, his platter of beef and rice cabbage rolls produced so many ridiculous high-pitched giggles that Belle wanted to throw a five-armed candelabra at his head.

Hardly the sort of laughter Belle had been hoping to hear.

After a month of trying and failing, Belle was growing impatient. How many harebrained schemes could one caretaker enact for the sake of a simple laugh? Rumplestiltskin was not only unfazed by her efforts he seemed blithely unaware of them.

For someone so fond of claiming he wasn’t a man, he was terribly dense. Belle began to despair. If she ever hoped to hear his beautiful, rumbling laughter again, drastic measures were required.

xoxo

“Go on,” Belle urged, pushing open the heavy door to the great hall. The shaggy grey puppy scampered over to the square dais where Rumplestiltskin was spinning and whimpered a greeting. He dragged some golden stalks of straw onto the carpet covering the platform and began to chew. Belle hovered in the foyer, watching and listening. The young Polish Lowland Sheepdog’s hair hung into his sweet brown eyes and he had the sweetest little pink tongue Belle had ever seen on a dog. Even Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t be able to resist laughing at such a lively, intelligent ball of fluff.

Or so she thought. Absorbed by his spinning, a full ten minutes went by before Rumplestiltskin deigned to notice his new companion.

“Belle,” he called without looking away from the wheel, “some vile little creature has wandered into the hall. Come dispose of it.”

She burst into the hall and inserted herself between Rumplestiltskin and the puppy before he had the notion to transform the poor animal into a less-than-pleasant creature, like a skunk or a beetle. It seemed to be the fate of most who displeased the Dark One.

Belle’s skirts swished against Rumplestiltskin’s thigh as she elbowed her way into his space.

He rocked back on the three-legged stool’s hind leg, his feet in the air. Gripping the creaking wheel for support, he rebalanced, his boots hitting the dais with a decided thump.

“Don’t topple me in your excitement, woman. It’s only a dog.” The words were crisp, dismissive. He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. The twist of his lips was sour, his eyelids drooped in boredom. “I have work to do.” He glanced pointedly at the dust-covered shelves in the hall. “As do you.”

Belle shuffled backward, putting space between them, taking care not to pitch backward off the dais. He righted the stool and returned to spinning, but not before she noticed a slight tremble of his fingers.

Such large, strong capable-looking hands he had, those long, elegant fingers tapering into short black claws. Artist’s hands.

Heat filled her face while a lightning-quick shiver danced up her spine, and Belle quickly turned her attention to the puppy with an adoring coo. “Isn’t he darling? His name is Kacper. ”

At the sound of his name, Kacper barked his approval and stretched his scruffy neck, angling to be pet. Belle bent low to oblige, stroking his back and scratching his ears.

“Darling.” Rumplestiltskin’s sniff was aloof. “Not the word I would use.”

“And why not?” She straightened and brushed straw off her skirt. “What’s wrong with him?”

Together they watched the dog drag more bright yellow pieces of straw off the platform and onto the floor. After a minute of chewing and jumping in the little pile, he climbed into Rumplestiltkin’s gold-laden basket and fell asleep.

“There’s straw everywhere,” he complained. “You’ll go to the village to replace it, too. By sundown tomorrow.”

“Yes, master.” She dipped a saucy curtsy.

The wheel came to a squeaking halt and Rumplestiltskin’s eyes flashed, warning Belle she was treading on dangerous ground. “Where did this hell dog come from anyway?”

“He was in the side yard chasing butterflies while I was hanging sheets on the line.” The memory of the butterfly landing on the pup’s nose while he barked and pawed at them made her giggle.

As usual, she was the only one laughing.

“Most likely a trap sent by one of my enemies,” he mused. “Perhaps Maleficent or King George.” He frowned as he reached around the puppy for more straw into the wheel. “Too tame to be Regina. Subtlety isn’t that one’s strong suit.”

The dog snuggled deeper into the basket and let out a whiffling snore. “Yes, he looks absolutely terrifying,” Belle supplied. “Ha! This from the one who lectures everyone who will listen about judging a book by its cover.” Sarcasm hung in the air like thunderclouds before a storm. “If you recall, dearie, the last time you found a beast in the yard, it was one of those devil hounds Cruella de Vil is so fond of. Like a fool, you followed it. And like an even bigger fool, I found myself bargaining for your life at midnight on Demon’s Bluff.”

Belle chewed her lip. He wasn’t wrong. The dalmatian puppy she followed had been sweet, but as judgments went, it hadn’t been her finest hour. “I did thank you profusely for saving me. What did you need that ridiculous magic gauntlet for, anyway?”

“We’ll never know now, will we?” He pouted.

“Come now,” she said, trying to tease him out of his rising temper. Thus far, the puppy was proving to be her worst idea yet for making Rumplestiltskin laugh. All she wanted at this point was a bit of credit for trying. “Why not admit you would be lost without me?”

“Indeed.” The stool pushed back with an angry scrape and he shot to his feet, stalking out from behind the spinning wheel. “Where in all the realms would I find a housekeeper who reads all the day, allows the kettle to run dry whilst I wait hours for my tea, and creates more messes than she cleans?”

A slap across the face couldn’t have hurt worse. Every failing he’d listed was true. No, she wasn’t the best caretaker, but what she lacked in capability and efficiency she tried to make up for in spontaneity and heart. She cared about him, the cantankerous bastard, which was more than could be said of most people. It was sobering to realize she cared so deeply for someone who seemed to think so little of her.

Stung by the criticism, she approached the platform and bent down to scoop up the sleeping pup.

Rumplestiltskin stepped down off the platform. They stood in the middle of the hall glowering at each other, she cradling the slumbering dog, and he rubbing nothingness between his fingers. The picture of awkwardness and pent-up frustration.

Why, she wondered, searching his cold, closed-off face, was she so determined to amuse a man who was so determined not to laugh? Was it a game? A challenge? Her stubborn nature? Belle didn’t know the answer, but she was fed up with trying.

There was no doubt in her mind now--he was purposely withholding his laughter for no other reason than meanness.

Tears threatened, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of breaking down. “If that’s the way you feel,” she said.

“Aye, that’s the way I feel.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Sounding as exasperated as she felt, he threw up his hands. Startled, Belle stumbled, the slight weight of the puppy overbalancing her. She tipped forward, falling headlong into Rumplestiltskin.

Forgetting about the sleeping puppy in her arms, she grabbed Rumplestiltskin around the waist, her fingers scrabbling for purchase, her head bumping against his chest.

With the first touch of her hands, he started to laugh. A great, guffawing, booming laugh so deep and loud it shook the rafters of the Dark Castle.

He caught her with one arm, the puppy with the other, pulling her up and drawing her close so they were pressed together from chest to toe. Her hands bracketed his waist, his leather and silk clothing soft and supple against her palms.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, the mystery finally solved. “You’re ticklish.”

“Rubbish,” he scoffed. “I’m simply giving in to your considerable efforts.”

“You can’t fabricate true, honest laughter,” she said.

To prove it, she wiggled her fingers against his sides once more. She was rewarded with more genuine laughter. Not a single trill or exaggerated snicker in earshot. To her amazement, the puppy slept through all the commotion, curled snug inside Rumplestitskin’s vest.

Who knew that one clumsy move was all it took to make him laugh again? Belle was so happy she could have twirled pirouettes the length of the great hall. But that would have required letting go of Rumplestiltskin. And she wasn’t doing that anytime soon.

She splayed her hands over his waist, and as she explored the contours of his torso she found his belly wonderfully soft and rounded beneath her fingers. He laughed again, his sides jiggling, and the sweet depth of it drew her deeper until she was swimming in the warmth of the sound.

Closing her eyes, she brushed the backs of her fingers along his hip, savoring each ripple of laughter and vibration of his body. She could have touched and tickled and listened to him all day.

“Enough now, Belle.” His tone was rough, vocal cords gravely from overuse. Moving the puppy to rest in the hollow of his shoulder, he gripped her hands and clasped them between his. His grip was firm but not unkind, and those beautiful hands she had studied so often were warmer and softer than she imagined.

Something more than mere humor glinted in his eyes, a tension between them that pushed the boundaries of their current arrangement. Friendship, attraction. The air in the hall was thick with both. And Belle realized that through these silly antics, she had more than an employer in Rumplestiltskin. She had a friend.

“Are you still angry with me, Rumple?” she ventured.

Those dark, fathomless eyes widened a bit at the shortened use of his name, but he didn’t object to the nickname.

“Try as I might, I cannot stay angry with you.” His voice was husky, the sweet thread of laughter still weaving through it. There was no trace of his usual artifice or pageantry.

“So that day in the kitchen?” she prompted, filled with wonder at all of today’s surprises and revelations.

“Aye, it was your touch that made me laugh.” He ducked his head, trying and failing to hide his reddened cheeks behind his shaggy curtain of hair. “ When you were lugging that basket of bread against your hip, you brushed against my waist. It was so innocent and you had no idea you’d done it. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be tickled and to laugh. I haven’t really laughed since…”

“Your son.” He was still holding her hands between his and she loosened his fingers to brush her thumb against the back of his hand. “I’m so sorry, Rumple. I never meant to dredge up a painful memory, to cause you hurt.”

“You didn’t. You made me laugh, Belle. You. Not fancy cakes or translating outlandish books or this little beast.” He patted Kacper’s head. “You brought light and kindness and laughter into this dull, dark place.”

“All that time I spent trying to figure out what would make you laugh.” Bells shook her head at herself. “Those crazy schemes. I felt like…”

“Me?”

Now it was her turn to laugh. Rumplestiltskin was nothing if not persistent. And he certainly excelled at patience. “A little,” she admitted. “But it was worth it.”

“Don’t you dare tell anyone about this,” he warned.

“Or what?” She blinked at him. “You’ll turn me into a toad?”

“Becoming predictable, am I?” He sneered, but it was without malice.

“You? Never.”

Releasing her hands, he stepped back onto the platform and settled down behind the spinning wheel. He carefully removed the dog from his shoulder and placed him into the basket of straw. “Kacper can stay here. For now. But you’ll need to find him a bed. This beastie can’t disrupt my work forever.”

“I understand, Rumplestiltskin.”

“Hmmm.” He began to spin and Belle watched for a moment as he easily slipped into that faraway place where he created and made plans, losing himself in the cadence of the wheel. “I’ll take my tea now.”

The words were said so softly, she heard them more in her mind than from his lips.

“Right away, Rumplestiltskin,” she whispered.

The faint smile on his face was the only indication that he’d heard her assent.

As she ambled down the corridor toward the kitchen feeling lighter than she had in weeks, the faint rumble of laughter drifted along with her. Belle wrapped her arms around herself to embrace the sound, her lips spreading in a smile of pure happiness. It was a beginning.

###

[lveclouds]

a/n: an atla au that i’ve been planning to write about for a while hehe and i apologize that this oneshot  jumps around a lot (oops) and it is slightly different from the actual show and wow this is the longest thing i’ve ever written lmao and this is very much raw and unedited so if there are any mistakes, that’s on me fklkflkf

genre: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, forbidden love, doomed love 

rating: pg-15 (see tw)  (i’ve bolded them so they are easier to see) 

word count: 5.4k 

pairing: avatar! reader x firebender yoongi

warnings: a bit of violence, (it’s nothing graphic), light swearing, mentions of family death (very brief and doesn’t go into much detail), mentions of blood (very brief), a nightmare sequence, major character deaths (nothing  too graphic or super violent)

summary: you were supposed to hate min yoongi. after all, he was from the fire nation, and their people were responsible for the chaos that had divided the four nations all those years ago, and for the death of your family. however, no matter how many times you fought, and no matter how many times he got under your skin, you eventually caught feelings, and now the two of you were in a relationship that was never meant to happen. and now, you, along with yoongi, have to face the consequences. 

disclaimer: i own none nothing related to atla (the story, setting, etc) all rights go to nickelodeon and michael dante dimartino, the main creator of this amazing show.  also, originally, the cooling chamber is used for prisoners who dare to step out of line while imprisoned on boiling rock, and they are only rendered unable to bend for a full week. however, i decided to change it because i don’t want to make their deaths too graphic or violent or disturbing, as the show barely has anything like that and i do not want to disturb my readers. 

“he was like fire, and i like water, and we often clashed, but somehow, we managed to fall in love. however, because we fell in love, a grave punishment awaited us, one that would haunt us for the rest of our lives.” 

prologue

min yoongi. the mere mention of his name was enough to make your blood boil and your insides churn with anger and hatred. he was arrogant, hot-headed, and worst of all, infuriatingly gorgeous. messy, raven hair that fell into his eyes, which were dark and piercing, pink lips that always curved into that irritating smirk you despised, perfect cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, and the long scar on his left eye, which would’ve made anyone else look terrifying, but somehow, it only made yoongi even more attractive than he already was, which deeply vexed you. he was from the fire nation, whom you hated with all your heart. they were responsible for the death of your family all those years ago, when you were just a little girl who didn’t know the complexities of the world, nor did you know that you would one day be the one to put an end to the all the slaughter and turmoil. you remembered the day they invaded your village all too well. you had been helping your mom prepare dinner, when, all of a sudden, loud shouts pierced the air, and you heard the crackle of fire and heavy footsteps making their way onto the shore. your father, already armed with his armor and scimitar, rushed outside, yelling over his shoulder for your mom to protect you and your brother. your mother, who was firm and loving above all things, calmly instructed for you and your brother to slip out of the tent if things went bad, to which you agreed to, despite being deathly terrified of what was going to happen. before you knew it, the flap of your tent was blown open, and you felt a rush of warm air wash over you, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, holding back a terrified scream as two fire nation soldiers barged in, mouths twisted in evil smirks. they grabbed your mother roughly by the wrist, who put up to resistance as they dragged her away, and you felt tears fill your eyes. to your horror, your brother, who was only eight years old, ran after your mother, who was looking at him with tears running down her cheeks, silently pleading him to go back inside. her attempt was in vain, as your brother persisted, desperate screams escaping his throat, and you were frozen in the corner, tears freely falling down your face, watching, petrified, as your kind and outgoing and brave brother was dragged away, possibly to his death. after you had managed to calm down, you quickly gathered all you had, which was nothing much, just a water skin that your grandmother had gifted you before she died. despite it being nothing too significant, you still held it dear to your heart. somehow, you had managed to escape, quietly hiding behind ruins of igloos and tents, and escaped onto a boat, not daring to look back at the destruction that the fire nation had caused. and, as you let the boat carry you away, you clutched the water skin to your chest and cried. 

(fin.) 

fast forward ten years later, and you were now eighteen, and you had traveled all around the four nations, being sure to avoid the fire nation at all costs. within the ten years that you had traveled, alone and unarmed, you had managed to discover something: you were the avatar, the one person who would be responsible for stopping the war between the four nations and the only one capable enough to stop the fire nation and their scheme to take over the entire world. at first, you didn’t want to believe it, for you were a poor girl who grew up in a small village in the southern water tribe, and as far as you knew, none of your ancestors were avatars, at least, or so you thought. turns out, your great great grandmother had been a past avatar, a very powerful one at that. you hated to admit it, but you were terrified. after all, being the avatar wasn’t going to be easy, and, to top it all off, you had to save the world from absolute peril. granted, you weren’t exactly experienced in the whole “avatar” thing, but you were willing to try. and, so far, you had been able to improve your waterbending, and had mastered earthbending. now, you were working on your airbending, studying scrolls you had picked up while exploring an abandoned air nomad temple. you were currently staying at a small inn located in a remote village in the earth kingdom, training nearly every day. however, you found it difficult to concentrate, for thoughts of min yoongi popped into your mind, which greatly irritated you. you had had only a few encounters with the arrogant prince to be, but you had come to despise him. you hated the fact that you thought of him, for you could just imagine that stupid smirk on his face if he found out, and for heavens sake, you hoped it would stay that way. every fight you two had made your blood boil, and the sarcastic remarks and teasing only deepened your hatred. you vowed to never fall for an arrogant asshole like him, nor would you ever consider giving up anything for yoongi, not a chance. little did you know that three years  later, you loving yoongi would be your greatest downfall. 

yoongi gritted his teeth in annoyance at the trembling servant before him, trying not to get irritated at his cowardice. “speak.” he grumbled, letting out an exasperated sigh. “i-i ‘m s-sorry your highness, i-i didn’t mean to tell your sister about the a-avatar. i-it just-” it just what?” “i-it was a mistake, your highness.” yoongi sighed. he was exhausted from the countless meeting his father forced him to attend that day, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with such a fool of a servant. “whatever, just don’t let it happen again,now, get out of my sight.” yoongi muttered, waving his hand absentmindedly. the servant nodded, frantically getting up, sputtering out apologies and nearly tripping over his own feet as he exited his bedroom. yoongi groaned in annoyance as he hopped down from the chair he’d been sitting on, stretching out his weak limbs. the meetings had been quite tiring, and yoongi thought he was going to insane from listening to incompetent men ramble on and on about pointless war strategies. ok, yoongi knew that coming up with war strategies wasn’t easy and they were doing their best, but none of the strategies they come up with have succeeded, and yoongi was starting to lose faith in them. yoongi knew he could be a bit hotheaded and a bit arrogant and selfish at times, but he wasn’t heartless, and deep down, he knew that the men were just trying to help with the crisis that was plaguing the world. yoongi sighed and plopped down onto his bed, closing his eyes. he was so tired to the point where he couldn’t even be bothered to get under the covers, and soon sleep came over him, covering him like a blanket. 

y/n scowled, clenching her fists together tightly, her dark eyes full of anger and spite. her beautiful face was bloody and a long scratch was on her forearm, but she didn’t seem to notice. yoongi had been thrown off to the side, clutching his arm awkwardly, and there were smudges of dirt and blood on his face, and his body felt like it was being stabbed with a thousand needles, but all he could focus on was y/n, facing off against the fire lord, rage ablaze in her eyes. the fire lord gave her a once over and sneered. “so, you’re the so called avatar? heh. you look weak, and definitely not enough to defeat me.” y/n’s scowl only deepened, and yoongi could see the ember of a flame kindling in her now open palm, illuminating her features in a orange and red glow. “you killed my family, didn’t you?” she hissed, the flame in her hand getting stronger, sparks flying in the air. the fire lord let out a dark, heartless chuckle. “oh, you mean the powerless and pathetic waterbenders who didn’t even try to put up a fight? ah, well, if you must be so curious, i did kill them. they were imprisoned for a while, and i ordered my soldiers to starve them, and when i got tired of keeping them alive, i took their lives with my own hands.” yoongi stared in horror as the flame in y/n’s hands got bigger and bigger, and her dark eyes glowed with fury, a strong wind lifting her up in the air, and she was now a blue streak against the dark sky. when she spoke again, her voice wasn’t normal, it was almost as if she had been possessed, and that’s when yoongi realized: she had entered the avatar state. suddenly, a fight broke out, and yoongi shielded his eyes from the debris and the smoke that was heading his way, struggling to see. and, when the smoke finally cleared, yoongi’s heart felt as if had been ripped out of his chest. his father was dead, lying in an awkward heap on the ground, and a few feet away lay y/n, her blue dress tattered and torn, her body lifeless. yoongi held back a scream as he crawled over to her body, fighting back tears. her dark hair was messy and strands fell over her face, and with shaking hands, yoongi reached out to brush them away, there were scratches and bruises covering her arms and legs, and the cut on her arm had gotten worse, and then he noticed the piece of metal in her chest, blood pouring out of the wound. yoongi finally let the tears fall, grasping hold of her now cold hands, letting his emotions pour out of him like a waterfall. 

yoongi shot up, his brow coated with sweat, breathing heavily. his heart was beating wildly in his chest, and he felt as if his ears were ringing. over the past few weeks, he had been having recurring dreams of y/n dying in different ways, and he couldn’t understand why. why was he, out of all people, having dreams of her dying over and over again? why? he scowled and wiped away the sweat with the back of his hand. “this makes absolutely no sense. i don’t love her,  nor do i have feelings for her, so why am i having these dreams?” he mumbled to himself, head swimming with thoughts. yoongi shook his head, as if to try and rid himself of what he had just dreamed of. he decided to go back to sleep and not try to think of her, for it would only cause him more confusion. 

(three years later) 

you dodged a flying rock just barely, propelling yourself upwards with air, landing gently on your feet just seconds later, and allowed yourself a quick sigh of relief before turning back to the battle at hand. your bending had gotten better since then, and you were just mastering firebending, the one element you dreaded learning, but alas, as your duty as the avatar, it was mandatory to master all four elements. you were currently locked in a slightly tense fight with thugs from the earth kingdom, who had previously tried to steal your belongings just weeks ago, and as you were on your way to the local market to pick up some food, you were ambushed. luckily, the thugs weren’t too dangerous, and had a few weapons, but not any you were too concerned about. after the thugs were lying on the ground, groaning in pain, you wasted no time in running away, not bothering to look back, just in case one of them recovered. the local market was ablaze with activity, street vendors selling food and other items, such as jewelry and cloth and weapons, and some were even offering to read your palms. you made sure to stick to the stalls that were run by people who didn’t seem to care about the avatar, and those who seemed to just see you as a normal girl, which was enough for you. after all, you weren’t even supposed to be going to crowded public places, as there is a chance that anyone could recognize you, but since you had been to the market so many times and no one seemed to bother you, well, you didn’t worry too much. however, you still kept your guard up, making sure no one was following you and trying not to use your bending without people seeing. you rushed back to the inn you were staying at, making sure to look over your shoulder as you went, feeling your heartbeat speed up a bit. yoongi was lying down on one of the beds, eyes closed, chest falling up and down peacefully, his soft breaths filling the room. “yoongi? are you awake?” he cracked open one feline shaped eye, lips curving into a small smile. “mmm. was just closing my eyes.” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, but just loud enough for you to hear. you bit back an amused smile at the sight of yoongi in a tattered red cloak that was a far cry from the royal garbs he was used to wearing all the time. his dark, raven hair had gotten longer, and the strands were now falling into his eyes, and most of the time, his hair was messy and a bit unruly, but you didn’t mind. you hummed softly as you prepared dinner, which was noodle soup and fish. while you were adding ingredients to the stew, you heard yoongi slide off the bed and walk over to you, his bare feet soundless on the wood floor. strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and you couldn’t help but smile in amusement. “you’re finally up, huh?” “i was awake, i was resting my eyes.” “uh huh, and those little snores i heard? those were fake?” yoongi huffed. “shut up, i wasn’t snoring.” “whatever you say, yoongi.” you singsonged. yoongi sighed and let go of your waist, settling down in front of the small table in the center of the room, hugging his knees to his chest. “is the food almost ready?” “yes, your highness.” you teased, pouring the stew into a wooden bowl, steam rising into the air. as the two of you ate dinner that night, yoongi told you stories about his life in the palace, and how he had almost fallen asleep at a meeting because he was so bored. “seriously? and you got away with that?” yoongi shrugged, shoving a handful of rice in his mouth, and you nearly laughed when you saw a piece of rice sticking to his bottom lip, but refrained from doing so because you didn’t want to embarrass him. “they know i barely get any sleep, so i guess they’re used to it.” “why?” “why don’t i get any sleep?” “well, i used to have nightmares, mostly about my father killing me, you dying, and a few other things, and i don’t know, i’ve always been a night owl, i guess.” your heart dropped down into your chest. “what? you ‘ve had dreams of me dying?” yoongi sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “yeah. but i don’t have them anymore. i had them before we fell in love or whatever. we hated each other before, in case you forgot.” “but, i still don’t get it. why would you have dreams of me dying?” yoongi shrugged once again, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “not sure. anyways, don’t worry about it. it was a long time ago.” you nodded, but deep down, you were still a bit doubtful that the dreams were “nothing.” they had to mean something, you thought as you forced yourself to eat another piece of fish. you lay in bed later that night, staring up at the wooden ceiling of the inn, lost in thought. you couldn’t help but wonder if the dreams that yoongi had all those years ago meant something. you weren’t afraid of death, necessarily, as you knew that all life stopped eventually, but you were scared of when it would happen, after all, you hadn’t saved the world yet, nor had you mastered the four elements. you shook away all bad thoughts, silently scolding yourself for being paranoid, and snuggled deeper into yoongi’s side, letting sleep take over. 

the next morning, you awoke to the smell of smoke, and you immediately shot up out of bed, looking around for yoongi, who was nowhere to be seen. a wave of fear washed over you as you rushed to gather your belongings, heart beating wildly in your chest. you quickly put out the small fires that were blazing in the inn, turning the wood to ash, and ran outside. the sight that awaited you turned your blood cold. yoongi was being held captive by fire nation soldiers, hands tied with rope, and there was a smudge of dirt and blood on his right cheek, but otherwise, he looked unscathed, and you allowed yourself some relief. one of the soldiers, a tall and lean man, sneered at you as you got closer. “if it isn’t the avatar. thought we’d never see you, and honestly, i’m quite disappointed. thought you’d be taller, and well, a male.” you felt a surge of anger wash over you, clenching your hands into fists. “what do you want?” “first, surrender now and we’ll consider sparing your life.” “and if i refuse?” “if you refuse, then we’ll kill you while he watches.” you gritted your teeth in annoyance and snuck a glance at yoongi, whose expression was unreadable.  you sighed and slowly put your hands up in surrender, and before you could react, you were pinned down to the ground, dirt flying into your eyes, making you sputter, and you felt a knee dig into the small of your back, and you hissed at the sharp pain that shot through your shoulder. . “what are you doing?! you said you wouldn’t harm her!” yoongi screamed, dark eyes ablaze with anger. “you’d really think we’d spare her? she’s the reason why we’re always getting scolded, and the reason why our people are suffering, so she deserves to die.” “your people are suffering?? don’t you mean our people?” the soldier who was pinning you to the ground let out a bitter laugh. “our people? the fire nation no longer sees you as a prince, for you turned your back on your nation and ran away with the avatar. your father is ashamed of you, and you are no longer welcome in the palace.” yoongi scoffed. “please. i was never accepted by my father, and i got tired of living there, too many rules to abide by. the fire nation is pathetic and my father is a piece of shit. i used to be blinded by the teachings and the values that we lived by, but not anymore. the fire nation deserves to be burnt to the ground, and i hope i get to be around to see it happen.” you watched in horror as yoongi was kicked in the stomach, causing him to cry out in pain, body falling in an awkward heap on the ground. tears welled up in your eyes, and you forced yourself to look away, for you were afraid of breaking down in front of everyone, especially in front of fire nation soldiers, no less. the last thing you wanted was to be seen as weak. 

after a long stretch of silence, yoongi cleared his throat, causing the soldiers to look at him, sneers immediately forming on their faces. “what is it now?” “let her go, you can take me back to the palace and i will receive whatever punishment awaits me, even if it’s death.” your blood ran cold as soon as the words left his mouth, heart dropping down into your chest. the soldier who was holding you down let you go, and you breathed a sigh of relief as the pain in your back subsided. the soldiers laughed, and you felt dread rush over you. “awww, how cute. loverboy’s willing to give up his life for the pathetic excuse of an avatar this girl is.” one soldier said, his tone dripping with sarcasm and mockery. “no, take me instead,  i’m the one the fire lord wants to see dead.” the soldiers looked at each other and almost immediately, satisfied smirks appeared on their faces. then,you were roughly helped to your feet, and your hands were tied with rope. out of the corner of your eye, you saw yoogni looking at you, dark eyes swimming with tears, silently begging you not to go, and you felt a slight twinge of regret, but it was too late: you had already made up your mind. you were willing to sacrifice anything for yoongi, even if it meant inevitable death. you swallowed the bile that was threatening to rise in your throat as you were led away. suddenly, you heard loud screams from behind you, and you whirled around to see yoongi, who had somehow managed to break free from his restraints, the sharp features of his face illuminated by the orange and red flames that he was throwing at the soldiers, who tried to dodge them, but to no avail. even from afar, you could see the tension in yoongi’s shoulders as he fought, dodging fireballs every now and then, sweat forming on his brow. you could only watch as he singelhandedly fought off soldiers from his own nation, anger coming off him in waves. and, just as he was about to run towards you, his eyebrows set in determination, you felt the hilt of a sword slamming into the back of your head, and before the world around you turned to black, you heard a scream of pure agony and distress. 

you awoke in a prison cell, head pounding as your eyes adjusted to the dim light. you groaned as you realized where you were. you had been brought to boiling rock, the most secure prison in the fire nation. the bars of your cell and the walls were made of an indestructible metal, and you immediately regretted not learning metal bending all those years ago. defeated, you slumped down in the corner of your cell, sighing heavily. the fire nation soldiers were right, you thought. you were a poor excuse of an avatar. not only had you fallen in love with one a fire nation prince, but you had also betrayed the values you were supposed to uphold as the avatar by choosing to try and protect yoongi instead of yourself. you knew that the past avatars before you would’ve done the complete opposite, for the sake of the whole world, and you chose to neglect all their teachings and values by trying to save him. you felt tears fall down your face. for the first time since your family’s death, you had never felt so hopeless and scared in your life. you knew that the fate that you had lead yourself to was entirely your fault, for you had chosen to love yoongi and defend him. deep down, there was a part of you that wondered if things would’ve been different if you had not fallen in love with the fire nation prince, but there was also a part of you that didn’t regret choosing yoongi. he had taught you some firebending techniques, and most of all,had treated you like fine china after you had started dating. he had been nothing but good to you since you dated, and you felt like an absolute fool for falling so hard, so quickly. 

you sobbed quietly in your cell, feeling completely helpless and defeated. there was no way you were escaping what was about to come, and you soon fell asleep, dried tears sticking to your face, heart heavy. when you awoke the next morning, you heard a guard unlocking your cell, and you slowly sat up, dread pooling in your stomach. you were led out of the cell and down a long corridor. you were practically shoved inside the interrogation room, which was dimly lit with metal bars in the ceiling, and the guard that was inside pushed you onto a chair, tying you to it with rope, which was rough and itchy against your skin. the interrogator stepped into the room, an old man with prominent frown lines around his eyes, looking at you with utter disdain and disgust. "so, this is the avatar? hmph. seems pretty weak to me." he muttered. you fought the urge to roll your eyes as he stood in front of you, eyes piercing. "did you or did you not kidnap the crown prince?" you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. "kidnap? i never did such a thing, he voluntarily agreed to travel with me." the old man sighed impatiently. "and you fell in love with him, did you not?" you gritted your teeth in annoyance. "and so what if i did?" the old man smirked, and you fought the urge to break free from your restraints and punch him in his face. "well, isn't the avatar supposed to despise anyone from the fire nation? they have values to uphold, and while i don't know much about your ancestors, they would probably look down on you for it." "fine, i did." the old man scoffed. "it's pathetic, really. i mean, the avatar betraying her ancestors for a lowlife prince?" "i'm not proud of it, but i don't regret it." "is that so? well, you definitely will once you freeze to death in the cooling chamber tomorrow." and with that, he exited the room, slamming the door shut behind him. as you were led back to your cell, you felt as if your world had come crashing down. you had been unable to master all four elements, nor had you saved the world from absolute peril. and, once you died, the world would be thrown into absolute chaos, and no one would be able to stop the fire nation from causing absolute destruction.

that night, you sat in your cell, leaning on the wall, thinking about all the memories you had made as you traveled, and the ones you made with yoongi. yoongi, who you hadn't seen since you got knocked out, and who you didn't know was even alive.you knew that it was possible to resent yoongi, for he was one of the reasons why you were now in a prison cell, but you also knew that you were to blame. after all, you had fallen in love with him. despite the fate that was awaiting you the next day, you couldn't help but feel happy that you had lived a decent life, and you had managed to fall in love, even if it was someone you were destined to hate. "i love you, yoongi." you whispered, and you slowly fell asleep, with memories of yoongi in your mind. 

the bitter cold in the room enveloped you like a blanket, and though you had grown up in a village surrounded by glaciers, you had always been covered up in thick clothing lined with fur, keeping you warm despite the harsh temperature. you shivered slightly, rubbing your arms frantically, as if the action would keep you warm. though the cold was unbearable, you were at least grateful you would die slowly, instead of painfully, so at least you could reflect on yourself before you died. you sighed and slumped against the wall of the cooling chamber, feeling absolutely defeated. there was no way you were getting out this time. suddenly, the door to the cooling chamber opened, and someone got shoved inside. the door quickly closed and you could hear the joyful laughs of the fire nation soldiers outside, which vexed you. when you saw who had been placed in the chamber with you, you felt tears welling up in your eyes. it was yoongi, and to your relief, he looked uninjured. “y-yoongi?” you called out, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible, despite the tears running down your face. he looked over at you, dark eyes wide. “y/n?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “w-what are you doing here?” “i turned myself in.” “what? why?” “i couldn’t let you suffer without me. after all, i am the one who dragged you into this mess in the first place. you fell in love with me, and if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here, freezing to death.” your heart broke at how sad he sounded. “yoongi, don’t blame yourself. i was the one who should’ve left, but i couldn’t bring myself to. i neglected my duty as the avatar and now i’m letting thousands, maybe even millions of people die. all because a certain firebender came into my life.  however, i don’t regret falling in love with you. you’ve helped me become a better person and you even helped me how to control my firebending. you also showed me that it doesn’t matter where you come from and that you shouldn’t let your nation define you. and, honestly, at least your face is going to be the last thing before i die.” despite the cold, you could see a faint shade of pink settle across yoongi’s face, and you allowed yourself an amused smile. “since when did you get so cheesy?” “don’t know. guess certain death just does that to a person.” eventually, you died peacefully with yoongi by your side, and while you deeply regretted not being able to fufill your duty as the avatar, you had at least shown that love didn’t come without sacrifice, and sacrifice didn’t come without love, for you would have gladly given up the world for yoongi. 

a/n: omg this was so long hehe but i hope you all enjoyed this! this oneshot took me forever to type up, but i had so much fun doing it! once again, thank you all so much for supporting me always, and i hope my stories can make you smile, or at least feel some type of emotions! 

tagging: @suhdays @softlyjiminie @softguks @jksmoongf @softlypouty @haylo4ever @sweetheartjeongguk @sketchguk @glossyfever @taeramisu @nahfamily @dylanxmin @saintjeonofbusan @mmmikrokosmos @sunkyeoml @honeylovecult @lomlkook @yoongislovecult @daechwitas @yoongismykink @periminkle @thotxuxi @fairyqook​ @moonmintrails @flowerseok  @koophoriia​@onherwings  @ppersonna​  @ot7always​ @koosgrl​  @cest-la-tae​ @minsprings​ @mygsii​ @roguebangtan​ @minniepetals​ @euphoria-vmin7​ @ladyartemesia​ @gguksbby​ @baekhyyun​ @randomkoalablog​ @yoonsgiggle​ @birthofvcnus​

[vaire-gwir]

Some Cat and Wolf fanfic I had in mind pt.2

There is a part 2! Is it less trash than part 1? No, I mean I wrote it, what did you expect. I like to believe I know where I’m going with this one, but who am I kidding here. 

There are a couple of flashbacks, I tried my best at writing how Lambert finds out about Aiden’s death and what happens after that, a sad dream, just a tiny bit of fluff cause I couldn’t resist, and maybe angst? Again, let me know what you think, if it makes sense or it’s truly just rubbish. Feed my feedback monster please. It’s still very not canon and even more out of characters probably, so sorry. 

Maybe I’ll call it ‘I lost a friend, I lost my mind’, still not sure.

Also, English is clearly not my first language, I’m sorry for all the mistakes!

***

He's always dreaming of Aiden lately, and he can still feel the blood on his own hands when he wakes up, it's splattered on his clothes, soaking through the fabric from where he kneels on the ground next to the dead body and it makes him want to scrape and scratch at his skin until the feeling is gone.

Lambert never saw Aiden's body, and part of the guilt he feels fuming inside him every time he thinks of his best friend comes from the fact that he can't stand the thought of his lover dying alone. The medallion came to him later, when he tracked down the Dyn Marv Caravan, worry fraying his nerves into a sickly thin rope ready to snap, cause Aiden was not at any of their usual spots and Lambert had been moving from one village to another asking at every inn but no one had seen the other Witcher since before winter. There was a bitter taste on his tongue every time he left a certain tavern empty-handed, a mixture of disappointment and frustration. By the time he decided to follow the trail of the Caravan the sharp twist in his senses every time another innkeeper or maid sent him on his way without any helpful information had been vexing him so much that he felt almost raw and he couldn't ignore it anymore. He knew something had happened to Aiden. Something always happened to the people he cared about, and most of the time it was his fault.

The Caravan wasn't particularly hard to find, but it still was a challenging decision to go looking for them. He knew the other Cats had no sympathy for him, the rivalry between their schools was older than the Continent itself, and it was no secret that in time they began accepting contracts on humans, turning them into nothing more than highly-skilled assassins and thieves. Aiden was not beyond stealing here and there, of course, but a few times he said he had refused to add more corpses to the baggage he was already carrying, weighing down on whatever was left of his conscience, if Witchers had one at all. 

Once, they were settled in the woods south of Temeria, relaxing before walking into town the next morning. They had found this small clearing, easy to defend on all sides in case of a monster making a sudden appearance, and they decided to make camp, both of them wanting to enjoy the quiet of the forest for one more night. They know it didn't mean safety, but it was still better than the villages, with their constant loud dissonance, with too many eyes, and too many people pointing fingers all the time. Being around humans always meant being extra careful, cause people too easily turned against them at the first sign of any inconvenience. Aiden was chatty that night, the calm of the evening keeping the rumble of words from his chest steady, and Lambert will never admit it but he truly enjoys listening to him talking, cause he can just focus on his tone, and that soft voice helps him keep his thoughts under control. It's less messy in his head when Aiden is close, he can simply lay there splayed on a blanket, his head pillowed on Aiden's lap, with the Cat running his magical fingers through his hair and enjoying the moment. 

He was telling Lambert about this job he did with one of his brothers, something about lifting a curse on the sister of a bastard mage that tried to trick them, and that's how he slipped into the topic of the other questionable jobs his fellow Witchers were willing to take. He didn't try to deny that he did the same thing as the other Cats for a while, as a Witcher he had to do terrible things, just like the rest of them, and Lambert would never judge him for that. At least Aiden had enough honesty in himself to speak the truth about what he did. Lambert had met so many bastards with the face and the acts of an innocent monk and their hands as dirty and bloody as everyone else, just a bunch of bragging hypocrites, that's what they were. 

<<We were made to kill monsters, some of my brothers would argue that death is death, but it's not Wolf, it's not. Cheating, and stealing, and deceiving is one thing, I won't pretend I'm not a horrible person. But when you start killing humans the lines blur out a lot more, it changes you. Usually, in a version of yourself that you eventually learn to hate.>> 

<<I don't think you're horrible. I mean, only sometimes.>> Lambert opened his eyes to look at the face above him and he met the endless green he adores. Aiden was looking at him with an amused expression, the motion of his fingers through his hair came to a halt, and Lambert whined at the loss.

<<Only sometimes, ah? Well, that's a relief considering you're stuck with me for a good while.>> Aiden leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, his hand now trailing down his face to his chest, resting just above his heart, the slow rhythm reassuring and soothing. Lambert opened his lips the moment he felt Aiden's tongue flicking against them, the taste invading his mouth in the most delicious way. He could just kiss him for hours and never get tired of that. The Cat straightened his back licking his lips, and Lambert brought his hand on top of the one on his chest. He had never been one for affection, but since the Cat walked into his life he tried to steal little kisses and small touches every chance he got.

<<How long is a good while?>>

<<As long as you want. So don't get tired of me just yet, pup.>> Aiden was always beautiful, but bathed in the firelight, with flames dancing in his perfect eyes and his legs stretched out in front of him, leisurely crossed at the ankles, warm and content, he looked like a divine gift. Lambert raised his fingers to trail his profile, slowly caressing the side of his face, almost afraid that if he dared too much that mystical creature would break right before his eyes and vanish forever.

<<You'll get tired of me. I mean, I'm awesome, but I'd get tired of myself too.>> Aiden looked at him right in his eyes, the serious look he had on his face was the one that meant he wasn't fooling around anymore, he was about to say something important. <<Never gonna happen. You're always gold to me.>>

Finding the Caravan was not the smartest decision, just being close to where they made camp meant risking his life, but he didn't care, this was his last resort, fear and concern were bound to kill him anyway if he didn't find Aiden soon, cause when Witchers go missing there's only one place they can be found: death. To directly approach the Caravan alone felt wrong, it went against every instinct he had, he felt exposed, like an easy target. As desperate as he was, he was still not completely stupid, so he lingered at the edge of the clearing for a second too long on purpose to make his presence announced. Lambert had seen other Cat witchers only a handful of times before, and he had never seen the whole Caravan, Aiden thought it was not safe for him to meet them, probably for the very same reason why he never took his Cat to the Wolves den: suspect and rejection were looming too close, no one was interested in risking bloodshed. Meeting on the road was one thing, paths were meant to cross at some point, but going home was an entirely different story, it was a sacred space, and it was too risky to invade that place, a balance too precarious to not be disrupted by refusal, judgment, and misunderstanding

There were six pairs of eyes on him immediately as soon as Lambert stepped forward from the line of the trees. He wasted a few precious seconds realizing his first mistake. A wolf, alone and armed, walking right through the Cat's camp was certainly asking for trouble. The look they gave him had the sole intent of making him feel uncomfortable and unwanted and it worked perfectly. Second mistake, his hand inched closer to his sword as a natural reflex, causing the handful of Witchers scattered around him to instantly reach for their own weapons. Lambert remained still, judging that he could probably take down at least three of them before the others attacked him, when a vaguely familiar figure stepped forward. He took it as a good sign that no arrows or daggers were flying in his direction, if they wanted him gone, he would be bleeding already.

Karadin muttered something along the lines of 'it's fine, I know this one,' and it was enough for his brothers to relax a little. Lambert attempted to stay calm while the other Cat approached him, there was something in his steps that made him look as if he was about to jump him. He didn't like it one bit being here, and as much as he tried to ignore it, hostility was vibrating in the air and running between the whole group like a current. <<I'm looking for Aiden. Not here to kill anyone.>> He said quickly. They had met once before, he had seen Aiden at ease talking to him, and so far he was the only one that didn't seem to want to murder him on the spot. Probably he was just a better liar. <<Figured that already. I remember you. He's gone, I'm sorry.>> His voice had a sharp edge that he tried to mask under practiced neutrality, but it still made him sound like it didn't matter at all to him if the others killed Lambert or not. <<Gone where? I've been....> <<Gone, Wolf. He's dead.>> 

It seemed empty when he said it as if he spoke those exact words so many times that they lost their true meaning now, he made it sound as if this was just another annoying thing that happened in their life, and they both should know better than to make a big deal out of it or get attached to another, cause people and especially witchers, die all the time. Easy for him to be this composed, he was not the one whose walls were crumbling.

There was a part of Lambert, the part he refused to listen, that had understood something occurred as soon as he realized Aiden was not in Kaedwen, cause he had no reason to not show up after winter. It was their thing, a sort of ritual they took to perform every season: come spring they would meet again and spend the following days holed up at an inn, barely leaving their bed, completely lost in feeling each other after so long and getting reacquainted with what belonged to them. It took Lambert a day and a half before he started to panic, and after that, his personal version of hell unfurled. For two endless weeks, Lambert had spent every single day searching for him, refusing contracts that he couldn't care enough to take, cause the prospect of a job was not sufficient to fill the hole inside him left by Aiden's disappearance. The voices in his head kept alternating between whispering that the Cat just left him cause he had enough of his sorry ass, and screaming that something happened to him and he wasn't doing anything useful about it. Two weeks made of empty days and cold nights consumed by doubts and fear, passing through another nameless village, threatening mages, picking fights, moving hell and earth to find him, repeating to himself over and over that Aiden couldn't be dead. All he did had been in vain until now, cause now this stranger was standing there and turning the cold suspicion he desperately tried to silence into the bitter truth. Dead. <<I was there.>>

Lambert tried to ask for something else, he really tried to sound coherent but all of a sudden he felt so tired. He also missed most of the words spilling from Karadin's mouth, but he'll have plenty of time to visualize in detail Aiden's death, because now that the crushing rage and grief he tried to keep at bay had washed over him like the waves of the ocean he could barely restrain himself. He felt as if someone was picking at the stitches that held him together and pulling so harshly that his seams were all coming apart at once. Dead. <<You can have this.>> A gloved hand pressed something into his palm, the sound of the leather squeaking in the motion bursting through the fog that settled around his head, and he felt the shape under his fingers. Aiden's medallion. He should pay more attention to the twisting in his guts suggesting that there was something very wrong, like an odd scent of lies in the air, but he didn't, he couldn't. Two Witchers on a contract, one is dead and the other escapes without a single scratch on him, he should figure out that there must be more about this that Karadin was not telling him, yet he ignored that intuition. Third mistake of the day. His mind was miles away, and his body was craving to put as much distance as possible between himself and this place, his heart beating too fast since the word 'dead' had been said out loud. Karadin must sense it, cause he didn't waste time in sending him away. <<Go, it is not wise of you to stay. And Wolf, I'm really sorry.>> 

Everything after that was dull and confused, he had a few scattered memories, most of them were nothing more than blinding pain, but he made it as far as the side of the forest before his legs gave out. He felt as if someone sent him stumbling in the darkness, without his potions and his tricks and everything was as gloomy as if all the light had been taken from the world. The next thing he remembered he was drunk out of his mind at an inn and morning found him passed out in a dirty alley, with blood on his clothes that he didn't know who it belonged to, and throbbing pain in his hand but his mind was too hazy to focus on anything right now. His first thought is that he has to find Aiden. It took a moment for the events of the previous day to resurface, but when they did, he was on his knees retching and gasping for breath. He can't go looking for Aiden now, cause his best friend is dead.

He replayed the encounter with the other Cat enough times in his mind to put together the scattered pieces, so now he knows how Aiden died, he knows where and he knows he was not alone. And all these things he knows don't help at all though, cause Lambert wasn't there to see it, to stitch him up as he did countless times before, to try and save him. After all, he'd never let a fucking griffin kill his best friend. Lambert was miles away in his winter keep, safe and sane like the fucking coward he is, dreaming of spring while he repairs old walls because he doesn't know that spring is not coming this year. And yet, all he can see now is Aiden's death. Every night when he closes his eyes the shadows move in his mind, showing him the horror that he never witnessed as if the universe was performing a sick joke on him. There are usually no words or sounds in his visions, and as dreadful as it is, it's still better than when he can hear Aiden's voice.

About a couple of weeks ago his exhausted brain decided to start playing tricks on him, making him see things he's sure are not real, but it's not always easy to tell the difference between reality and dreams when everything is a nightmare. Minds work in a very funny way when faced with unknown suffering, in a funny and cruel way, that's why in these hallucinations Aiden is nothing like the friend he used to know. The thing is, the nightmares are just nightmares. Reality is worse cause he can’t wake up from it. And truth is, Aiden is gone. Lambert has a hard time making sense of the words he hears, so unusual coming from this person he considers his friend, his lover, his. Some bits stick to him, and he remembers those so well it's impossible they are just a product of his subconscious.

<<You should have let me come to Kaer Morhen.>> Lambert's shoulders are hunched, the weight of those words too heavy for him to bear. A few days before going their separate ways Aiden asked him to spend the winter together and he said no. He said he'd stay and that they could find an overly rich lord looking for two extra soldiers, but going to Kaer Morhen was out of the question. He had toyed with the idea of bringing the Cat back home before, the promise of a pleasant and refreshing winter with his lover as tempting as ever. Except that there were two other Wolves at home, and even if they didn't send Aiden away running, Vesemir would kick both of them out before they step through the doors. He couldn't face his family knowing they'd think even less of him for showing up with a Cat. That's why he refused, because he's nothing but a coward, and now Aiden carries the same hurt on his face that he had that night.   <<I really wanted you to come, I was...>> <<And I really don't believe you.>> Aiden spats out angrily at him with blood seeping through the blue fabric of his shirt as he wipes a hand over his face, smearing the red lines dripping down his cheek.

<< I don't know how to lie to you.>> <<I'd know it if you were.>> <<It always seemed pointless to do it anyway. No one ever saw me as you did.>> Aiden's laugh is as disturbing as his unseeing eyes, and the way it echoes in the dark makes him ache. Aiden wants to hurt him as much as he had been hurt. And the people that know us best always know how to cause more damage. <<That's an awful amount of words for you.>> The metallic and cold smell of death overpowers everything, there are no more spices or fresh tinges of mint, no sweet undertones of honey, the scent that used to make him think of peace, of happiness and the sea is lost somewhere under the pain. Lambert wants to clutch at that dark shadow that wears the face and the body of his best friend, hold it close to his chest, run a hand through his hair in a desperate attempt to find a trace of that happiness but deep down he knows he can't touch. <<I'm...sorry.>> <<What for?>> <<Being a coward.>> <<Something suddenly loosened up your tongue, I see....tough luck wolf, it's too late.>> Lambert feels like choking on the air he was trying to breathe, the harsh truth hits him like a punch. He always thought he had time, time to find the courage to talk to his family, to figure out how to deal with all his sharp edges without lashing out at his lover, to simply be with Aiden and live long enough to defeat the Witcher's curse and outrun their past, and move together somewhere close to the sea where he'd build another boat and finally they could settle down and life would stop being this constant amount of bullshit. But it's too late. <<I love you.>> <<No you don't. You never did. You don't know how. You cared more about what your ridiculous family thought of you than about me.>> <Didn't know how to show it.>> <<You should have figured that one out before leaving.>> Realization sends an unfamiliar drop rolling down his cheek and he doesn't bother brushing it away. It wouldn't hurt this bad if it wasn't true. <<You were everything to me! I can't...I'm sorry I....>> <<Sorry doesn't bring back the dead. Nothing does.>>

Panic settles in his system and it doesn't leave even when he jerks awake, panting as if he had been running for days. His eyes are wide open, unfocused on the forest around him and this time he dries the wet lines on his cheek, the borders between reality and dreams too weak to not be torn apart by pain.

Sadness smells like dust, with a tinge of something smokey and iron, like burning old wood and pouring water over it. The sharp edge of Aiden's words cut like his swords and all he can do is lay on his blanket trying not to suffocate. It doesn't matter that this version of Aiden he keeps conjuring up from the bottomless pit of his guilt continues saying things the real Aiden would never say, cause in the middle of the night, when the weight in his chest becomes unbearably heavy, he's drowning and the dark tide of his thoughts doesn't let him come up for air. It's hard to remember that Aiden was never cruel to him, cause he can barely stop his hands from shaking, and forcing himself to will away the tears is the only thing he can focus on.

Every time he closes his eyes the ghosts crowd behind them, to remind him that he messed up, that he should have been there, he should have done better. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had lost the only person that ever loved him. Maybe that's when it all went wrong, cause there’s no such thing as love for a Witcher, isn't it? There are monsters, coins, and death. It’s a sad life they live and it’s only a matter of time before a beast, an assassin, a mage or an angry mob send them to their grave. They all live with a damn ticking clock on the back of their neck, tick tick ticking away with the number of days they have left, he always thought he had time, but he was wrong. They don't get to retire or move somewhere better, there's no boat by the sea for a Witcher, no lover to hold on to, they don't get a choice. They never did.

He’s talking to a vision that can’t answer him and that’s a sign that he’s gone crazy, he lost his marbles for good this time. And for fuck sake he has to get a grip on himself. Maybe if he had brought Aiden with him to Kaer Morhen he'd still be alive and they'd still be together. There's a voice in the dark that seems to whisper 'coward' over and over and the dark glow of the metal on the Cat medallion on his chest seems to shame him and blame him as much as Aiden's words did in his dream. He's sure he can feel that thing moving, crawling on his skin, a silent accusation reflected in those dead eyes, shining in a sinister way. It bothers him, cause that piece of metal is a reminder of when he failed, what he has lost, where he messed up. It seems to accuse him, demand him to fix this, but how do you fix death? What was that wretched thing reproaching him for, expecting him to mend death as if it was just another curse? When he throws the cat-shaped medallion in the fire in a fit of rage cause the damn thing is mocking him he's three heartbeats away from losing his mind and he smells it: sadness. The woods are filled with that smell of misery, of dust, and grief, the fire trying to burn the metal like the pain was burning his heart, and he stares entranced.

The glimmering of the jewelry in the flames is hypnotic, just like Aiden's eyes were with their shade of green. He'll never gaze into those perfect eyes ever again. He'll never have another spring reunion, he'll never mindlessly trace the line of the scar under Aiden's ribs when he's lost in thought and they're lounging lazily on the bed, and he'll never feel the unique mix of mint, honey and spices that belonged only to Aiden, and no one will ever look at him and make him feel important as he did.  

He blinks the tears away and he’s frantically reaching into the flames to retrieve it, reverently placing it on the rumpled blanket, making sure he didn’t damage it in his stupid fit. He can’t afford to ruin the only thing he has left of the only person that ever accepted him and that realization hurts less than his burnt fingertips. There’s nothing left but this necklace. And all his memories.

After that, he's unable to put the cat-shaped medallion back on so it lives in his pocket until he finds enough strength to leave it behind or wear it around his neck again, whatever comes first. That necklace is so heavy it seems to burn a hole in his flesh, and for an irrational second he finds it fitting: Aiden was always getting under his skin, maybe that’s where it should be. Safe, but he’ll never be safe again, the dead are not safe. He tries to shake his thoughts out of his mind while he walks toward the closest village he can find outside of Redania, cause he's almost out of coins, and the perspective of getting drunk and blissfully passing out without dreams for a couple of hours it's too tempting to ignore. With the last of his money, he gets a drink and a room, and after setting his stuff down he sits in a corner of the inn that is slowly filling up. Lambert tries to tune out all the noise of the other patrons, he's not in the mood for petty chats. He's been sitting there for no more than a couple of hours when a slightly drunk guard tells his companions that he's glad he doesn't have a night shift. Last month the black beast devoured three of his mates again, one is still missing. Lambert spares a glance at the little patch of sky he can see from his spot and stands up, making his way to the guard's table. Maybe killing something would keep him distracted. <<This black beast, it shows up once a month?>> The guard looks at his companions utterly frozen in front of him and doesn't bother turning around. <<And how could you possibly know that?>> <<Sir, he's a Witcher, sir, we've seen the lot of them here before. Bad luck to have them around. Terrible bad luck>> Lambert doesn't bother with this pale man that looks too close to fainting, he keeps his eyes on who he assumes he's the captain of the guards that finally decided to turn around, a curious look in his eyes. <<A Witcher, uh? Aye, once a month, for the past three months. I lost twelve good men already.>> <<And how much will you pay for it?>> <<You think you can kill something that took twelve soldiers?>> Lambert is quickly losing his patience, this idiots are not helping his sour mood. <<It's a werewolf, and I've killed the likes before. How much?>> One of the pale kids starts mumbling again, afraid to look at the Witcher and afraid to look away from him. <<My old nan always said it, someone dies when there's a Witcher around.>> <<Did your nan know how to kill a werewolf? Do you? No, so how about you close your fucking mouth!>> <<300 hundred crowns is all I can give you.>> The captain interrupts.

Lambert goes back to his room without another word, preparing for the hunt. He tucks his medallion under his shirt and places the cat-shaped one on the bed. He feels the dark eyes on it following him everywhere, just like the Cat used to do when they were together. He loved it, the feeling of someone watching him not with suspicion, fear, or hate, but kindness and understanding. It was an unfamiliar sensation at first, no one ever looked at him that way. No one ever will. Now he doesn’t want these metal orbs, he wants green eyes that are alive, that stare at him and care, that challenge and mock him, that love him, fight him, accept him. He tries leaving it hidden between the clothes in his pack and it makes it as far as the front door before he's rushing back up to stuff the damn thing in his pocket and head out to hunt this werewolf.

[sunonyoreface]

Forest Nymph | Geralt of Rivia Pt.3

Hello!! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my fanfic!  This is part three of my first series and I can’t wait to see where this series takes us!

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 2105

Thank you to @movies-music-series​ for letting me use their gif!

Geralt awakes with a jolt.  His eyes snap open and are immediately alert.  There is no such thing as a good night’s rest for a Witcher.  Not for Geralt at least.  

Something is watching him.  He can feel it and yet, his pendant is deadly still.  He rises with caution and scans the forest surrounding him. Nothing.  Yet he can’t shake the feeling that he’s being watched.

Then he notices you are gone.  You left without a trace sometime in the dead of night.  That’s probably for the best, he thinks.  And yet… Geralt can’t get his mind off of your angelic features.  The delicacy in the way you walk, how your feet barely touch the ground they travel upon.  His mind wanders to your touch, and the electrical current which seemed to surprise you as much as him.  Despite the shock, your hands were soft and gentle.  How he yearns to feel your touch again.

The sound of Roach whinnying alerts Geralt to a possible danger, to which he realizes he cannot see him anywhere.  Geralt’s heart rate picks up at the thought of losing Roach; he starts running in the direction of the call.  His eyes quickly scan the surrounding trees, searching for a threat he may have missed the first time.  After several minutes of searching, he comes across Roach, who excitedly munches at an apple growing from a young apple tree.  The tree is short and easily accessible, with smooth unscathed bark around its stump, the sort of tree that would not normally bear fruit for another five years, and yet, here it is.  Clearly one of your works of art.  Roach must be in love with her, he thinks.  

You left as soon as the embers died and no longer gave off any light. You feel confused and left out of options as to what to do.  If the Witcher chooses not to kill you, then what?  The villagers hire someone who will?  Your options are limited, but right now, you need to get back to your cottage, at least for a little while to think things through.

To the untrained eye, your cozy little cottage blends in with the slightly larger than normal thicket.  Nothing that unusual, unless you know what to look for.  You grew the walls and made them of tightly weaved stalks that keep out the rain.  The trees have since continued to grow on their own to home many smaller inhabitants in their upper branches.  They twist and turn in unnatural angles to allow for extensive windows that let in the warm natural light.  Inside, your floors are covered in a carpet of soft moss.  You almost never wear shoes inside.  All of your furniture is made of natural materials.  Of old trees which toppled over ready for repurposing, uniquely shaped rocks that work perfectly as benches, and anything else you might be able to forage from the bountiful area.  

When you step inside a scent of familiarity wraps around you.  The smell of home.  It’s quiet.  The usual sounds of wind, squirrels, and birds which normally fill the air fade away into the background.  The silence makes you tired.  Oh, how you long for a solid night’s worth of sleep.  So, naturally, your feet instinctually carry you off to your soft, embracing bed. Finally, you sigh.

Geralt doesn’t know what to tell the king.  Maybe he doesn’t tell him anything.  After all, all the king wanted was for him to look into what was damaging their crops.  He never mentioned that Geralt had to take any action against you.  He has a feeling that won’t cut it.  Then again, what harm could really come from telling the king about the dryad?  Geralt isn’t going to kill her, and the King’s army couldn’t find her if they tried. She’s too sneaky, and they're too incompetent at everything they do.  The farmers are too busy getting shitfaced at the alehouse, he doubts they can see past their own feet.  

He was supposed to meet the king for lunch.  It’s currently mid-afternoon.  Maybe closer to late afternoon, he thinks.  It’s hard to see the sun under the canopy of trees.  Either way, Geralt doesn’t care.  The King doesn’t matter.  None of them do.  He has lived through hundreds of kings and none of them stick out as important. They spend their time implementing new policies which really aren’t new, then destroying ones that their past rulers have made and so on.  Nothing has changed in Geralt’s hundred or so years on this Earth.  Humans operate in circles; they always have and will continue to do so until they cease to exist.  Maybe that’s too pessimistic.

Villagers bustle around the center of the town in a lively matter. Why wouldn’t they? Tomorrow is their day of rest and worship; they have the whole night to commit unholy sins. Geralt wonders where Jaskier has gone off too.  The alehouse probably.  Or maybe he is serenading some poor wenches.  What would he think of the forest nymph?

King Cassius of Asenguard lives in a castle so enormous that he has likely never been in every room.  It towers over his kingdom and peers into every grimy rut he rules over.  His people live in the slums while he has never truly worked a day in his life.  Geralt has a special kind of hatred for this kind of man, if one would even go so far as to call him that.  However, his large pocket is quite persuasive.  

“Ah! Mr. Witcher, so nice of you to join us today! I was almost about to send out my cavalry to search for you.” He laughs seemingly in good humour, but the room is tense.  The servants have witnessed enough of his behaviour to know that an outburst is about to happen.  Geralt doesn’t laugh.  He doesn’t even smile.  Cassius’ snarky joke only vexes him.

“My deepest apologies King Cassius, I was too busy cleaning the shit off my boots on your doorstep.  Your kingdom’s full of it.”  Geralt jabs back at him.  The snarky smile is wiped off of Cassius’ face.  He is not used to being talked back to.  While he is technically in charge, the Witcher emanates power.  If things become physical, the King and his guards will stand no chance, and in the back of his head, he knows that.  

“That’s enough, Mr. Witcher,” He drawls. “I just want to know if you have gotten rid of whatever is pissing my farmers off, they’re very persuasive people you know. They even threatened my bread production.  My God, what would we do without bread?”

“I did what you paid me to do.” He responds, the words tight in his mouth through his clenched jaw.

“What so you found the blasted demon wrecking my land, but didn’t kill it? I thought you were the Butcher of Blaviken? The White Wolf? Your job is to kill monsters.  That’s what I am paying you to do.”  The level of threat in the King’s voice raises exponentially.

“You asked me to find out what was causing your little problem.  That’s it.” Geralt spits back.  “You will pay me for my service.”

“Will I?”

“If you want to keep your head, then yes.” The Witcher’s eyes look as though they have turned to flames.  The threat is real, King Cassius, as inept as he is, can sense that much.

“Fine.” He huffs in annoyance. “Then what is it I am paying for? What is the wretched thing eating away at my land?”  

“A witch.”  Geralt states.

“Just a witch?”

“Just a witch.” He confirms.

“You couldn’t kill just a witch?”  Geralt’s hands twitch at his side.  The urge to reach for his sword is overwhelming.

“Just give me my coin.”

“Fine.” he tosses a small bag filled with coins at the Witcher, “Here you go. Now unless you are hunting that witch get the hell out of my kingdom.”

“My pleasure.” But first, he has to find Jaskier.

The first place Geralt checks is the alehouse.  And he is right.  He’s almost scarily right when it comes to Jaskier’s whereabouts, not that they deviate much.  It was the alehouse or the brothel and if he is anywhere else then something is likely wrong.

“We need to go, Jaskier.”  Geralt says before he has fully approached him.

“Well hello to you too!  You just got here, why don’t you have a drink?”

“No, Jaskier, we need to go.”  He is fully aware of the eyes already on him.  The whole village thought he was going to solve their “demon” problem and now he hasn’t.  He has about five minutes before they start throwing food at him and Jaskier both.

“Just relax for once Geralt.  Have a drink! Celebrate! I just finished telling Fleming over there how you are going to kill the thing wrecking their crops.” He laughs unknowingly.  Fleming, a large man sitting only a few chairs over, raises his mug to cheers with Jaskier before taking a large swig of ale.

“I will explain outside but we need to go.” Geralt urges once more.

“I’ll catch up with you.”

“No, Jaskier.” He whispers, “I didn’t kill her and your friend Fleming over there is not going to like that.” The underlying threat is clear in his tone, and finally, Jaskier takes the hint.

“Oh, right then.” A look of guilt crosses his face. “Fleming, don’t you worry, I will be right back!”

They are barely out of the alehouse when a voice calls out from behind an alley.

“Aye! That’s him. That’s the Witcher!”  A man standing with a group of drunks yells out.  “A little birdy tells me you didn’t kill the wretched thing wrecking our crops!”

Geralt doesn’t respond.  

“Well?” He takes a swig from his mug, “Why the fuck not?”

“You seem to be able to handle the situation fine on your own.” He states. With that, they go to leave, but the sound of a sword being drawn brings Geralt’s attention back to the group of men. An odd straggler, likely drunker than the rest of them, honestly thinks he stands a chance.

“Yeah? Well fuck you!” He shouts.

“Yeah!” some other men cheer him on.  This isn’t good.  Before Geralt can talk his way out of this, the man charges at him, sword held high, ready to fight.  Left no choice, Geralt conjures the Sign of Aard and uses it to blast the overly confident drunk and his friends back.  They go flying back, their limbs sprawled every which way, drinks thrown from their hands, until their hurled bodies finally make a rough impact with a ground. That should stop them, he thinks. Time to get out of this shitty village.

Once out of the village, Geralt and Jaskier continue into dusk at a slower than average pace.  The evening is actually quite nice.  Not too hot or cold, almost perfect.  The sky is clear, and the stars will start to come out within the hour.  The birds chatter to each other quietly in the background. Jaskier, while still a bit tipsy, is wound up in telling Geralt about a woman in a beautiful pink dress who was more than happy to have him stay the night in her hot, steamy bed.  Something you could have seen coming from miles away.

Suddenly, a doe jumps out from the forest line, then freezes in the middle of the dirt road.  She looks between them for a moment before sprinting off again, almost as if nothing happened.

“Geralt, why didn’t you get her? That would’ve been dinner for the next week!” Jaskier huffs in disappointment.  While rabbits are easy to trap, he would take venison over them any day.  

Two more deer jump out from the treeline, this time neither pause to look at Geralt or Jaskier, who barely notices their presence.  Geralt pulls back on Roach’s reins.  Roach reluctantly stops.

“Something is wrong.” He whispers to himself.

“What?” Asks Jaskier.  “Geralt I can’t hear you when you mumble.”

The birds have stopped chirping.  The forest is deathly silent.  Something is definitely wrong.  Another group of deer bound onto the road as though the two of them aren’t even there.  More animals now, rabbits, foxes and larger, more unpleasant creatures sprint across the road paying them no attention.  

The wind switches direction and the smell of smoke overwhelms their senses.  Geralt turns around to see the far-off horizon glowing orange.  Sparks explode out of a daunting wall of smoke.  The Asenguard forest is burning relentlessly with no signs of stopping.

---

Thank you so much for your feedback!! I love hearing from yall

Pt.1

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613040114715820032/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt-1-hi-this-is-my

Pt.2

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613171373679034368/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt2

Pt.4

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613676968381136896/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt4

Tag List: @nadia-rosea

[strangermask]

AU

I got an opposite au that deals with season 11 stuff. I made three versions, so here is version 2 with not a lot of angst (Also inspired by spinchip nice emperor au).

So I call it the Steam Chapter.

Click “keep reading” if you want to know more. If you haven’t watched season 11 yet, please don’t. It will contain spoilers.

There might also be snippets in here.

So, what would have happened if Zane wasn’t the only person who got sent to the Never Realm?

Kai got in the way while Aspheera tried to banish Wu, but he and Zane both got sent to the Never realm.

snippet 1:

Vex looked at the strange objects that fell out of the sky. Another portal opened, and two people fell down. They landed on the snow, passed out. Vex looked at them. One was laying face down with brown hair and red clothing. The other facing up, wearing white and blue clothing and with titanium skin. The titanium one opened its eyes, and Vex hid. 

********************************

Zane opened his eyes. He got up and noticed him sparking. He opened the top hatch on his chest and adjusted the inside. He closed it and looked around. “Hello?” He spoke. “Is anyone there?” He heard groaning and looked down. He spotted Kai.

“Kai!” Zane shouted as he bent down to Kai.

“Ugh,” Kai groaned. “Zane?”

Zane helped Kai up.

“What were you thinking?” Zane asked. “You could have been hurt or-”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” Kai said. “I tried to push you out of the way, but that didn’t seem to work.” He grabbed his right arm in pain.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Zane did a health scan.

“Your arm is broken.”

“Great.”

“Kai, you’re in pain.”

“Just leave it.”

“I am trying-”

“Do you think I could have handled you disappearing again? Stop worrying about me!”

Zane blinked. Kai sighed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.” Kai apologized.

“No, it’s fine...” Zane said. “I shouldn’t have sacrificed myself...again.” He looked at the green titan mech and climbed on top of it.

“Where are we?” Zane whispered to himself.

End of Snippet 1:

So Zane starts to on the green titan mech while Kai rests. Vex is watching the whole time. Zane notices a storm coming and realizes he and Kai need to take shelter. Zane knows he can’t leave the mech, so he tries to use his powers. That didn’t work, so he decides to use the forbidden scroll. He does so and tells Kai to get on the platform with the mech. Then the two search for shelter with Vex following behind. After traveling and getting near shelter, a giant owl appears and attack. Zane fends the owl off with the scroll powers. Zane gets inside, sets up ice defense, and puts the mech up. Kai fell asleep during the trip. Zane starts to work on the mech again then sets up the recording.

Snippet 2:

“And to Pixal,” Zane said. “I’m sorry.” He finished the recording and looked at Kai. 

“As you would say, here goes nothing.” Zane said then connected himself to the mech.

Commencing system diagnostic.

Do not remove data cable. Data interruption may result in system failure and/or memory loss. Commencing diagnostic. 10% complete.

Vex came up to Zane and waved in front of him. He tried speaking to the stranger, but he would not respond. The computer continued to speak. Vex laughed quietly and picked the scepter up. He tried to freeze Zane, but nothing happened. Kai started to wake up and noticed Vex pointing the scepter at Zane.

“Hey,” Kai shouted. “What are you doing?”

Vex looked at Kai as he got up.

“It is not your business.” Vex answered. He looked at Zane and had an idea. Vex walked to Zane, reaching out to the cable attached to his head.

“Leave him alone!” Kai exclaimed as he charged at Vex.

The two started to fight as Kai tried to defend Zane. Soon, Vex got the upper hand and knocked Kai out.

“First, I’ll take care of your friend than you.”

100% complete.

Zane came back online and saw Vex standing in front of a knocked out Kai. Vex turned around and became pale.

“What happened?” Zane asked then noticed Vex holding the scepter. “You...hurt my friend.” 

Vex panicked and ran off with the scepter. Zane ran to Kai. He was out cold.

“Kai...” Zane spoke sadly.

He picked Kai up and looked at the mech. They can come back anytime, but Kai needed help now.

End of snippet 2:

So Zane carries Kai out and seeks for help. After traveling for some time, Zane ran into the palace. He was brought inside with some guards. He begged the emperor to help Kai. Zane promises in return to do some work for the emperor. He felt bad for the two boys, so he let them stay without having Zane doing any work. 

Kai wakes up, and he starts to get better. On the week Kai was fully healed, there was a giant blizzard that was too dangerous to walk through. The Emperor let the two stay until the storm died down.

But then Vex comes in with the forbidden scroll and attacks Kai and Zane. Vex found an ancient magical sword made from the coldest metal in the Never-realm. Kai got hit by magic rays in the eye and cheek. A battle ensues, the Emperor gets hit, and Kai gets his fire back. Vex was arrested and taken to the Palace’s prison. The Emperor knows he’s going to die soon, so he gives the title of Emperor to Kai and Zane.

The Emperor dies, and Kai feels super guilty. The coronation was going to be held after Kai healed up again since Zane doesn’t want to stress Kai more than he already is.

Snippet 3:

It was coronation day for Kai and Zane. Kai was in the changing room looking in the mirror. His left eye was a bright pale light snow blue. His cheek had a permanent scar from the incident. He was dressed in red, black, and golden emperor clothes and his hair tied up. There weren’t any gel to keep his spiky hair, but, hey, what can you do? “Kai?” A voice spoke.

Kai turned around and saw Zane. He was dressed in white, light blue, and grey emperor clothes.

“Zane,” Kai chuckled. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check up on you. It’s almost time for the ceremony.”

“Yeah...”

Zane put a hand on Kai’s shoulder.

“Are you feeling alright?” Zane asked.

“No,” Kai frowned. “I don’t think I should be Emperor of this realm.”

“Why?”

“Zane. I barely survived raising my sister alone while maintaining a shop so we can live. I couldn’t handle being a ninja, and I should not have ever become a ninja. I’m a terrible person. Someone like me shouldn’t be emperor.”

“Kai-”

“I’m emotionally damage,” Kai started to cry. “I am not stable. I am not perfect. Hell, I had a breakdown for a whole year, and I went to an underground fighting tournament and became an alcoholic to handle it.”

Zane's eyes widen.

“Was...that the year I died?” Zane asked.

Kai didn’t say anything. Zane hugged Kai.

“I’m so sorry,” Zane said, hugging tightly. “I didn’t realize how much damage I caused you. I promise I won’t abandon you again. I’m going to try and help you. I can’t promise I will make everything better in a snap of a finger, but I promise I’m going to help you.”

Kai choked backed tears and hugged Zane back.

“Thanks, bud.” Kai said.

“It’s my pleasure.”

The two finished up their hug-fest and went outside to get crowned for Emperor.

End of Snippet 3 because I don’t know how to do a coronation speech:

Kai and Zane were crowned Emperor, and it’s been a month since then. Kai and Zane are starting to think the ninjas weren’t going to be able to bring them back. They probably don’t know the two are still alive.

So time went on and Kai started to feel feelings for Zane. After a few months, Kai asked Zane out. And they start to date.

They dated for five years, and Kai was getting ready to propose.

Snippet 4:

Kai hold the ring in his hand. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “Five years,” Kai whispered to himself. “I can’t believe it’s been five years, but here goes nothing.”

Kai put the ring in his pocket. He went outside to meet with Zane.

“Hello Sir,” Kai said. “Nice day we’re having.”

Zane turned around and smiled.

“What?”

“You have something planned.” Zane said.

“What do you mean?”

“You use that tone of voice whenever you have something planned.”

“Well...I might have a little something.”

“Oh? What might that be?”

“It’s a surprise, so I can’t spoiler anything.”

“If it’s a gift for our anniversary, I think you’re a little early. That is still one month away.”

Kai started to get nervous.

Just play it cool. Kai thought. He’s obviously joking, right? You don’t have to panic. Just make sure you don’t say something stupid.

“Say, I think it��s time to go to the garthing-I mean garden.”

Zane thought for a moment.

“The garden does sound nice,” Zane took Kai’s hand. “Let’s go.”

The two walked to the palace’s garden. Kai was getting more nervous about the proposal. He was wondering if this was a good idea.

“Kai?” Zane spoke. “Are you okay?”

“I have something to ask you.” Kai blurted.

Why did I say that!? Kai yelled at himself.

“Oh. Umm, okay. What did you want to ask?”

Kai put his hand in his pocket with the ring. He grabbed it and took a deep breath. There was no backing out now.

“Zane,” Kai started. “We’ve been in this world for a while now. It’s a little strange, but it’s nice. We’ve met new people, seen things never seen before, and...discover things. A lot of things.”

“Yes,” Zane said. “I suppose we have.”

“And, well, to add to that, we became emperors. I’ve also gotten better thanks to you. And I was somehow bless with dating you. I have been thinking for a while, and I think we might need to take this to another level.”

Zane started to frown a bit.

“What do you mean?” Zane asked.

Kai took another deep breath and went to one knee.

“Zane, will you marry me?” Kai asked as he pulled out the ring.

Zane’s frown turned into the biggest smile.

“Yes,” Zane said. “I will.”

Kai was shocked.

“Y-You really mean it-mmf!”

Kai was interrupted when Zane kissed Kai on the lips. He kissed back.

End of Snippet 4:

I am going to write how the wedding went, but right now I don’t have much of an idea. (Sorry).

So, Kai and Zane got married. They went around the Never-Realm, interacting with the villages, talking to the formlings, and living peacefully. The years went by, Kai and Zane got older. Both have changed in a good way. Zane and Kai got therapy to help them get through their past lives. Kai became more relaxed and opened about his problems. Zane learned to except himself and to take make sure to take care of himself.

The two have been in the Never-Realm for thirty years. Kai is 49 and Zane about 46ish (Zane’s age is confusing).

While it’s been three decades there, it’s been three days in Ninjago. So the ninjas did the whole shabang in that episode they get ready to go to the Never-Realm. They make it to the Never-Realm, meet up with Akita and Kataru. The ninjas said they were looking for two friends, and the two formlings said that the Winter and Summer Emperors would be able to help them.

So the group traveled to the Palace to meet the Winter and Summer Emperor.

Snippet 5:

“So, the Winter Emperor and Summer Emperor can really help us?” Lloyd asked as they entered the palace.

“Of course!” Akita said. “They’re most helpful people in here. But don’t be afraid when you see the Winter Emperor. He looks more different than everyone else.”

The ninjas looked at each other with worry. Soon, they heard voices. Familiar voices.

“That is dangerous.” One voice said.

“I’ve survived worse didn’t I?” Another asked.

“That doesn’t excuse you to do it.”

“But imagine!”

“I already did, and I didn’t like the results.”

“Winter Emperor!” Akita shouted. “Summer Emperor! We need your help finding two missing people!”

The Winter Emperor and Summer Emperor entered the room. A titanium robot dress in ice-theme robes, and a man dressed in fire-theme robe. Both were very familiar.

“Whose missing?” The Winter Emperor asked.

Akita and Kataru revealed the group of ninjas who were now shocked. Both emperors were surprised. 

“Kai?” Lloyd said. “Zane?”

The Summer Emperor smiled.

“Well, if we knew you were-”

Kai was interrupted when Lloyd ran and hugged Kai. He rest of the ninjas jumped on Zane and Kai hugging them. Akita and Kataru were confused.

End of Snippet 5:

So Kai and Zane explained that they have been in the Never-Realm for thirty years. Along with what happened during their time there. Kai and Zane were surprised that it’s only been three days in Ninjago. 

Lloyd asked if the two wanted to go back home. Kai and Zane did enjoy it in the Never-realm, but the missed home. So they went back to Ninjago, Kai and Zane giving the title of Emperor to someone else. Wu is surprised that Kai is now an adult, but he was happy that they were both back.

There was no discourse between Zane and Pixal since she knew Zane liked Kai more. I’m not making a drama show off of this.

But, now things are going to be different.

[punkandsnacks]

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Four; Acquaintances.

Author: @punk-in-docs​ & @adamsnackdriver​

Also on AO3-

Trigger Warnings: Nothing much to trigger in this chapter - just as the title suggests, a swooning moment or two perhaps-

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

The sky remained hard. Resolutely letting snow sift from the thick great heavens, like icing sugar drifting down. The ground also continued to be frosty hard and scattered with patches of hidden silvery ice.

 No sooner than the sun had risen over the tumbling flat frosty vista of Hampshire hills and frost crusted meadows, than Iris is up, and going about her daily chores all in the life of a gently bred - yet unwed- daughter, of fairly considerable means.

 She takes food parcels to the poor. Calls on sick relatives or companions for tea. Pays calls. Fetched supplies for cook from the butchers or the grocers, or the fishmongers in town.

 When one of the maids is ill, or is suffering a passing heartbreak until the next suitor comes along, Iris is the one to step into the void and fulfil their tasks. She collects the eggs from the chickens at the farm, or makes the ailing girl a hot milk posset or a cup of hot chocolate to cheer them.

 It seemed like every other week their maids, Meg and Julia, seemed to go getting their hearts broken. Some farm hand. Or the boy from the butchers shop. The milliners son, or the strong handsome one who works in the drapers shop. As ever; Iris steps into the fray when - another - devastating crisis comes their way. She helps cook in the kitchen with supper. Or she helps out with idle cleaning around the house. Or see’s to the chores on the farm.

 This morning is no different. Meg took to her bed with an ailing heart of the most acute kind. For the boy she fancies had become engaged to another girl. Iris brings her a cup of chocolate after breakfast and lends her a handkerchief and a shoulder so she can have a good long cry about it.

 So household tasks fall onto her today. Fetching in what cook needed from market for supper. Even though she’d have liked to have spent a morning reading her book, or helping Julia get on top of the household washing. She’s wanted to take down the parlour curtains and give them a good scrub, for weeks now.

 Or today she had ideally wanted to lend Flora and Posy a hand in drying some flowers, and french lavender and roses. For perfumes and bathing oils. They had to use their home grown stock from the gardens carefully. It was a long winter. And the convenience of summer blooms are far off yet. Dried flowers cost a pretty penny up the market.

 Her duties are endless. She’s got calls to pay. Off to the butchers to buy sweet meats and game for the jugged hare cook is making tonight. She needs to buy beeswax candles and salt, and some more soaps.

 And Posy and Flora are allowed to purchase two new ribbons each. They’ll walk into the village with her. No doubt nattering all the way there about what colours they want. And all the way back that they should’ve chosen different ones.

 Iris steps outside in her wintry best and her cracked leather boots. Two pairs of wool stockings this time. Her navy blue wool pelisse over a thick white cotton dress. For good measure, she puts a bonnet on to keep her ears warm, and wraps a gold embroidered shawl around her shoulders.

 Posy and Flora are trussed up as if they’re off to go personally meet the Prince Regent. Flora is in her gold pelisse with her pink dress under. And Posy had her powder blue coat over her mint green dress. They’re both wearing bonnets that they made up themselves. Their hats staggering under the weight of ribbons and cloth and trims and flounces.

 Iris’s was far simpler - No fuss. No trims. A gold straw bonnet with grey ribbon tied under her chin.

 Iris has to chide Posy, when they step out of doors, for forgetting to wear her gloves. She insists she hasn’t a decent pair and slips back into the house to go up to Iris’s room to conveniently borrow her grey rabbit fur lined gloves. Making her elder sister roll her eyes. The plot was clear.

 They had a heavy basket each to carry. Some old granary loaves, soused herring, and some jars of Jam from their kitchens to go to the poor. They’re not even at the end of the drive and Flora is whinging about the weight of her basket. Iris heaves a sigh and grabs it off her.

 She trudges behind them. Both arms carrying heavy baskets.

 Her and Posy link arms, giggling, walking along merrily, animated and discussing last nights ball. Or, more accurately; making sport of the people who’d attended.

 “Did you see that awful Lavender gown Jane Penwell had on?”

 “I thought it suited her very ill indeed.”

 “And did you hear about Lawrence Fisher? Apparently he’s now to be courting Lucy Miller.”

 “I cannot stand her. Last night she was so boastful about the lace trim on her dress. She’s vile. And I haven’t had any new lace on my dress for over a year! Not since last summer. I’m sure she does it deliberately, just to vex me.”

 “You are far prettier than Lucy Miller. She has ten million freckles and no conversation at all. She’s a pale ugly little thing.” Posy’s insisting fiercely to her younger sister.

 Iris is amused by the sheer frailty of their worries.

 “And besides, Mama said she had a letter from Mrs Thornby today, and apparently Lord Ren and Iris were the talk of the ball all night, last eve.” Flora says cheekily.

 Turning over her shoulder to scrutinise her sister with a smug grin that flashes her straight little row of teeth.

 Iris rolled her eyes. Strongly suspecting that as of now, her and Lord Ren would be gossiped about in front parlours for weeks. This was a sleepy country village with little amusement and not much variety to sustain it.

 Mama’s and girls of the Ton would fall on the new shred of tittle-tattle like wolves.

 “He left the ball last night without talking to any other girl, mama said.” Posy explains.

 “The poor man probably didn’t have time enough to get through all the desperate Hampshire girls, eagerly throwing themselves at him to make an acquaintance.” Iris thinks aloud.

 They walk up Westwell’s frosted drive and out onto the snowy lanes that cut through quaint countryside and woods.

 The golden sun is in its early rising, striping ribbons of thick satin gold through the trees. The ruddy browns and ash greys and ochre coppery rusts of the Turner-esque English countryside. Of fields and hedgerows and treetops. The grass is no longer green. It’s a musty white. And that same cloying powder clings onto the dead taupe leaves and branches of every tree. The air is bitter to breathe in.

 Iris takes a deep lungful of it, and its like a chest full of sharp pins. Needling at her lips and her neck. She should’ve thought to employ a wool scarf. As it is she can only tuck her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Tucking the heavy baskets into to dig deeper into her elbows. The frost numbs her feet, and sneaks up her skirts and snatched cruelly at her legs.

 She clenched her numb fingers, scrunching and unscrunching them up in her much too thin gloves.

 Posy and Flora continue their giggling and swapping tidbits of gossip about Lord Ren.

 “You know he didn’t even dance with anyone!”

 “A great sin, I’m sure. Punishable by death.” Iris thinks to herself under her breath.

 “He probably didn’t have time-“ Posy remarks.

 “Or he doesn’t know how.” Flora supposed.

 “A man that lofty, of course he can dance. Maybe he prefers not too.”

 “Maybe he has a false leg, or, or a war wound!”

 Iris rather wishes her ears were purely ornamental by this point.

 Give me a pair of vestigial ears anytime you wish. She idly prays. Turning her eyes skywards.

 “Maybe he’s shy-“ Flora squeaks. Posy clasps her hand over her mouth and laughs so loudly it startles the chaffinches out the trees.

 “I don’t think he can afford to blend into the wallpaper with a stature like that.” Flora grins.

 “His shoulders were twice the width of me.” Posy says dreamily.

 “Did he have soft lips Iris? For you must’ve felt them through your gloves... Were they heavenly?” Flora demands to know. Both sisters walking in step alongside her now.

 She side eyes them. “That is not a proper thing to discuss. And well you know it Flora Jane Ashton.” Iris insists. Concealing her secrets to herself.

 She wasn’t telling her sisters how her whole body burst into shivers popping and skipping up her spine. How his touch made her skin feel like it was dancing of its own accord. Free from her body. She shivered yet she was blushing hot.

 His lips were the softest, sweetest things that had ever come into contact with her body.

 Her whole arm felt dizzy afterwards. It wasn’t possible. But that’s how it felt. Hours after she was still rubbing the patch where his lips had lain on her satin gloves.

 When she got home after the ball, she peeled her glove off and looked at her hand.

 It still looked ordinary. Her skin wasn’t red or marked - but it felt like it should be. It felt as if something utterly astounding had happened to her.

 The memory of his eyes gazing their arrow-striking glare into her own haunted her head all night long. Swam behind her closed eyelids in her sleep. Those opulent piercing eyes.

 “We won’t tell a soul.” Posy promises

 “Oh, look. Here is the Barton’s cottage. Flora pass me the ointment for Mr Barton.” Iris demands.

 Seeing the little boxy cottage coming into view. Roof thick with iced thatch. Walls butter yellow. With fat pink sickly rose vines creeping up the walls. Iris sees the chimney is smoking. They must be home keeping warm on this frigid morning. Acrid woodsmoke from the house drifts across the woods.

 They deliver the ointment into Mrs Barton’s hand. Along with some jam, a loaf, and pickled goods to see them through the wintry cold week. They were a frail elderly couple after all. And Iris likes helping people. She always had. Her mother always insisted she’d been cursed with an unshakable vein of kindness.

 Which often meant as a child she was forever taking in birds wounded falling out their nests in the gardens. Leaving carrots out for the wild rabbits. Seeds for the birds. Feed for the little monk-jack deers. She shared all her dolls as a girl. Forever saw to caring for the people and creatures which surround her. She visits the infirm with medicine. Reads to the lonely old matrons who’d lost all the grandchildren of their own.

 Now she’s grown that inclination hasn’t left her. She likes making sure none of the infirm elderly, or the more impoverished friends of her acquaintance suffer through the bitter cold climes. They never have to struggle alone. Iris is a balm to the hurting. She gives what she can. And is a friend to everyone kind enough to recognise it.

 Before long, the trio of ladies dispense their generosity upon those who need it. Giving what sustenance and leftovers they can spare. It’s not much really- when all is said and done. But it’s helping in any little way possible. And that’s what matters.

 They come eventually into Pembleton high street. The every busy and jagged row of higgledy Tudor houses. Separated by a lane of sticky brown mud where horses hooves and carts churn up the dirt. Carts and stalls line the streets. Modest shopfronts sell their wares. The air is full up of woodsmoke and the scent of roasting nuts from the brazier on the stand nearby.

 Iris loses Posy and Flora very quickly to the haberdashers, where the ribbons hang from great silken trails in racks from the ceiling. Every colour Imaginable.

 She sees them fussing over Belgian lace and leaves them be. She steps into the butchers for Cooks desired hare and sweet meats. She buys the candles, salt and the paper wrapped little cakes of soaps from Mr Milton’s shop next door.

 She crosses the street to the grocers. Fills her basket with green leeks, onions, potatoes and carrots. She tucks everything in her basket, around the poor lamented hare with its fur still on, and covers it with a patterned linen cloth.

 She has a shilling spare- she wanders over to Mr. Greeley. The proud proprietor of the roasted nuts stall. She buys a bag of warm, buttery sweet chestnuts.

 Hides them from Posy and Flora. This was her one little indulgence for today. She sneaks one of the hot things onto her tongue and savours it.

 She strides back up the line of shop windows. Looking and listening to the clack and bustle of the street behind her. Clopping hooves, rattling carts, ponies and traps clunking along the high street. Friends and acquaintances stopped to gossip and chat in the street. Young and old. Of every walk of life.

 She looks in the drapers window. The reflection off the glass, showed her a watery image of a gaggle of matronly mamas stood behind her across the street, loudly gossiping in her direction. Pointing and gesturing toward her.

 She rolls her eyes in huffing annoyance.

 She wasn’t enjoying being the inconstant centre of attention. Open to such censure and fascination in odes to the Hearst’s ball last night.

 Also in odes to the mysterious new stranger to these shores, too. The dark, dashing, and taciturn Lord Ren.

 Every wet-behind-the-ears girl in all of Hampshire was busy envisioning their swirled initials joined with his in their embroidery. A big handsome stranger from far off lands. It was the precursor to the stuff of romance from drippy novels. A harbinger of a great love story.

 Maybe not hers. Lord Ren may have kissed her hand and called her handsome. But so have countless other rich suitors, and then two months later them and their pretty blonde heiress of ten thousand pounds, are lavishly married and installed in a house in Brunswick square. She’s sure he’ll eventually find some far more moneyed girl to march into matrimony.

 It won’t be her- not her turn to pick out her wedding clothes. It never is.

 She lets the whispers and doubts about her, flourish from unimportant mouths.

 She never cared for the savagery of society. She won’t start being missish about it all, now. It won’t serve her any purpose-

 She can only hope the next scandal or engagement or elopement, or any other source of fascination to the bored inhabitants of this county, comes flooding in quick to snatch away all unhealthy - and rather undue - interest in her.

 She waits outside the haberdashers for her pair of silly sisters. They eventually come out. Comparing their new ribbons with each other’s. Flora has a pink, Posy has some frothy white lace.

 Posy hands Iris a teal silk ribbon. “For your hair. It would become you so well. And it will go with your eyes.” She insists.

 Iris smiles. Wrapping the long length of satin around her grey glove. It was very pretty.

 “Pray how did you afford this?” Iris narrows her eyes in smiling suspicion at the pair of them.

 “I saved up my allowance.” Posy insists plainly. Iris continues her look. She tilts her chin down a notch. Let’s her eyes harden to steel. Arched her muddy shaped brows.

 “...And the haberdasher’s son is so very obliging.” Flora beams. The younger Ashton’s giggle together knowingly.

 Iris sighs again. Strongly suspecting she could safely boast that she had two of the silliest siblings in the entire country. Hell, in the entire British Empire.

 “Let’s take our leave shall we...” Iris says. Slowly heading away. Down the street in the opposite direction they came. It took them home down on the woodland path.

 She picks up her pristine white skirts and steps over the mud. Baskets heavy with her goods now thunking against her hip as they walk. One filled with meat. The other with candles and potatoes and other luxuries for supper.

 Posy and Flora trail behind her. Discussing how best to use their ribbons. On bonnets or around the waistline of their favourite dresses. Iris drowns them out and listens to the crunch of her feet on the frost. The silver wisp of her breath as its whisked away up into the reach of the sky. She likes how sun glimmers off frost like sparkles and diamonds and gems. Like something fine and rich.

 They just come across a curve in the lane. Leading through an open meadow full of frosted grass and withered wildflowers. When a thundering sound gallops into being, hitting the hard ground in succession from beyond the bend.

 Iris looks up, attention captured swiftly by the beast of a large rider atop a colossal shimmering black horse, moving quick towards where they are walking along the quiet little lane. The peace shattered by the horses hooves pounding the earth.

 A great hulking beast of a man sits astride it. Who indeed almost matches the brutally-enormous muscled intensity of the creature he rides.

 Lord Ren.

 Iris startled and went to move aside. But he sees them and is already slowing the horse. She draws a deep breath and watches as he tugs the reins to reel in his galloping mount. Reducing to a canter, a trot and then to a slow stop. Hooves churning up frost and spitting wet and crushed muddy grass, under its enormous stomping treads.

 The sun in fiercely shining behind him. So Iris can only make out the silhouette at first. There’s no mistaking that singular body for another man. The primal size and bulk of him is unmistakable.

 But then he shifts forwards on his horse as it stops. Lumbering towards them all. And that winter sun shines amber over his shoulder and she’s met with the full face of the handsome man she became acquainted with yesterday. His breath and that of his horses turn to silver smoke in the cold air

 He passes the strops of its black reins into one gloved leather hand. His attire not much changed since yesterday. Still all black. The shining calf riding boots. The breeches that sit entirely too snug to the sturdy trunks of his legs and hips. The tailored black wool coat. White shirt tied with an elaborately knotted wine coloured cravat. Diamond pin studded central into the tie of the cloth.

 His hair is free and rumpled by the wind. Desirable and untamed. Wild. He wears no top hat on his head like most gentlemen of civility did, when out riding.

 Something about that lack of full dress she admires. Maybe he likes to feel the wind tangle his hair. The suns kiss his pale skin. The wind stinging at his cheeks. Likes galloping across the terrain at full speed on his mammoth sized beast of a horse.

 “Good morning ladies.” He nods to them all. Still seated on his horse.

 “Miss Ashton.” He smiles directly down at Iris as his horse shifts and stomps and nibbles the dewy wet grass below.

 She ducks her head and curtseys. “Good morning. Your Lordship.” She says politely. Dwarfed by his horses shadow.

 He holds her gaze for a second and smiles. Eyes more opulent charcoal in their shade than ever, this morning. He even had a kiss of pink colour in his cheeks. He looks healthy. Less alabaster pale. She strongly suspects its because of the icy wind stinging his cheeks as he rode.

 He unlatched his right boot from the stirrup and smoothly swings himself off the horse. Grips the pommel at the front of the black saddle and swings himself down. Feet land to earth with a crunching thud. Frost and grass crushed underfoot.

 His long wool riding coat flaps at his knees. Billowing open at his chest to show just his white shirt beneath it. Such thin layers. He must’ve been freezing.

 “If I may be so bold, Miss Ashton, allow me to see you along to your intended destination?” He asks kindly. One big hand patting the solid flank of his horses shoulder when it huffs at his dismounting.

 Iris’s cheeks go flaming red. She’s sure of it. Throat dry she manages to answer.

 “Oh. Forgive my impertinence Lord Ren. But I don’t wish to take you out of your way. Only we are heading in the opposite direction to your path.”

 “With your permission. I should like to walk with you. I’ve done a sufficient amount of riding for this morning.” He tells her.

 Iris smiles. Flattered that he’d rearrange his ride, just to see her safely home. Just to walk with her for a moment or two.

 Posy digs a sharp elbow into Flora’s ribs. Which jolts the youngest into speaking. “Iris. We were just going up the lane here to call on Charlotte Morris.”

 Iris gazes pointedly at Flora with a piercing state that could’ve rivalled a dressmakers needle. “How remiss of you not to bring it up until now...” Iris glares a little.

 “Should you mind?” Posy asks. Fluttering her lashes.

 “Of course not.” Iris says flatly. “Mind the hour home and do for heavens sake be sensible.”

 “We are the very vision of sensibility.” Flora beams.

 Iris quirks a wry brow at the both of them. Teeth grit.

 The two most transparent pests on the planet. Their plot was clear as day- One of sneaking away and leaving their elder sister unchaperoned and alone with him.

 They turn away giggling and make for the little lane opposite. Gabbling and whispering all the way. Loud giggles follow them like fluttering birdsong.

 When she turns back to Lord Ren he looks slightly amused. She blushes.

 “I feel I ought offer an apology, your lordship. They are- most puerile and trying at times.” Iris offers as she shifts to step nearer to where he is.

 He smiles gently. “They are young girls who fancy themselves cunning, I wager. No apology is necessary for that.” He declares affably. Patting his horses neck.

 He brings the big horse around. Holding the gathered reins in his left hand. He leads his gigantic horse around with a click of his tongue and some soft words in urging Bavarian. The big creature follows his lead. She moves and alters the heavy baskets on her arms.

 He sees this. Kylo frowns at the heavy weights at both her elbows. She shouldn’t be tasked with fetching and carrying like a damned pack horse. He extends a hand. “Allow me, Miss Ashton.”

 “Oh, no it’s- I couldn’t.” By the time her protestations die on her lips. He has one basket in one hand, the other, he tied the handle to a saddle bag strap on his horse. Lays it rest against the saddle.

 She’s mortified that a Lord offers to carry her basket for her.

 “That’s truly a magnificent horse. I’ve never seen the like before.” She says. The steeds eyes glitter as if it knows it’s being discussed. “What’s his name?” She asks rummaging in her basket he holds. Hand slipped under the cloth.

 “Erland.” Kylo says. The horses ears twitch.

 “Erland. A majestic name. For a majestic beast.” She smiles at him.

 She steps up to the horse and strokes her gloved hand down the flat bone between his eyes, leading down to his snout. Scents of hay and oats and animal sweat pour musky off his coat.

 “He’s a lovely animal.” She says. Stroking his solid flank.

 “Percheron. He’s a French draft horse. His breed originated in the Huisne valley in western France.” Lord Ren tells her.

 “Bred for use as war horses, and pulling stagecoaches. This one has a fair mount of Arabian blood in him too. Makes him far too proud and headstrong.” He announces. Erland flicks his swishing tail at his owner. Snorting at him.

 “I bought him with me from Bavaria. He’s the best riding horse I’ve had for a while. Stubborn temperament.” He offers. He watches her stroke his head. Touch the soft spot behind his ears.

 “You like animals, Miss Ashton.” He states.

 Most girls, as far as he’s aware, deigned horses as smelly, ugly creatures, whose only purpose was beneath them. Or to pull their carriages. She seemed to like this big equine creature very much.

 “I do. Especially ones who are as beautiful as him.”

 “Careful. Or else that flattery will shoot right to his ego.” He warns lightly.

 She smiles.

 Erland’s hairy velveteen muzzle cheekily nudges at her shoulder for more affection. He clearly likes her touch. Kylo tugs on his reins and frowns at him.

 “Benehmen Sie sich.” Kylo rumbles in a firm Bavarian command at his horse. Calling him back. Telling him to be good. Rubbing his stocky shoulder. The round strong bones of him and the hot silk of his coat underneath his gloved palm.

 She smiles. Lets the carrot she fetched from her basket, sit in the flat cradle of her gloved palm. She offers it to Erland, who snuffles it up and crunches on it. Breaking the frail vegetables skin with his big teeth. Munching it all down. Nuzzles her for more when he’s done.

 He snorts when Kylo speaks up. “Anymore and you’ll get fat. You great beast.” He assures his horse in that soft foreign dialect. Shoving his snout into Miss Ashton’s hand for yet more treats. Erland’s head was so big and his power so strong, he could’ve very realistically knocked her over with one push.

 She steps back and takes her place alongside a Lord Ren so they can continue in their walk. He’s a busy man. She doesn’t wish to hold him up. They fall into step easy. Her on Kylo’s left, Erland in his big lumbering enormity on Kylo’s right. His master has his right hand holding his stallions reins. The other easily carries her basket for her.

 “Did you enjoy your introduction into Hampshire society, Your lordship?” Iris can’t help but ask him with mirth creeping into her voice and on her smile.

 He turns his head to look at her. “The sheer amount of handsome and accomplished young ladies hereabouts is staggering.” He comments with dry humour. “I wonder if this isn’t the most accomplished county in all of England.” He states.

 Iris finds herself smiling. Every desperate mother worth her salt last night would be crowing her daughters praise to high heaven. Enough to induce the possibility that her very accomplished, pretty and upstanding daughter might have a chance at landing him.

 “Mothers can be so very domineering when the subject of marriage arises.” Iris promises. Looking down to step over a particularly frosty puddle.

 Kylo looks across at her. Watches her profile. Along the curve of her nose and the swell of her smiling lips. It occurred to him then, that she didn’t know of her beauty. She was not aware of its potency. He could sense it; this was a girl who overlooked her own worth and highly underestimated her attractiveness.

 With her pebble-ash eyes shining in the marigold sun like that, sparkling as if made of moonstone gems, and her rosy smile so unguarded and free. She didn’t see her beauty then. Not the way he could. Didn’t see it lay in the kiss of pink in her cheeks or the merriment of her face. On the geniality of her laugh and smiles.

 “I know I shouldn’t comment on such things. But I do feel so dearly for every new suitor who comes to this village. Every Mama and every daughter must veritably drown poor men with their female offspring.”

 Kylo raises one brow. “Rest assured. I’m not a man so inclined to favour polite safe conversation.” He promises her. He doesn’t tiptoe around propriety.

 “And I will admit I lost count of the young ladies I was introduced too last eve. My ears were quite ringing with names and sickly smiles by the end of the evening.” He confesses.

 She smiles wide again. Looks across. “I do sometimes wish that the people here could look beyond the scope of their own ignorance. To look beyond the defining goal of matrimony.” She confesses.

 “Why should a woman’s worth be tied onto who she weds? Can she not be her own person and find a man to suit that.” She avows. Letting her stalwart brain run away with her rather passionate mouth.

 “That’s very forward thinking of you.” Kylo says to her with a kind smile. Her face falls. She’s inspired insult with that comment.

 She’s flushing with embarrassment.

 “Mother would faint if she heard me confess that to you. Do forgive me, for the impertinence of my tongue.” She begs. Face wrinkling into a worried frown.

 “You have a mind. Miss Ashton.” Kylo says. “It’s entitled to make itself known.”

 “I’m a gently bred, unmarried, woman. And the eldest daughter, Lord Ren. My mind should be silent at all times. And possessed only, night and day, by thoughts and longing for matrimony.” She says. Quoting one of her mother’s rants.

 “Well. You have my word. I’m most blessedly glad it’s not.” He says. Turning to look deep into her eyes.

 She seems curiously confused. “You are?”

 “Indeed.” He answers plainly.

 “It means you are the one woman in this entire county with whom I can conduct a refreshing conversation. One that doesn’t revolve around reminding me again and again, that I’m a rich man who desperately needs a wife.” He offers.

 “I’m glad to hear it.” Iris says laughing. “Not often I happen find someone on the same page as myself.”

 “English men may find your so called ‘impertinence’ intolerable, Miss Ashton. For they were raised to know no better. But I am not a English man. Where I came from, it is applauded that a woman might speak her mind and have judgements and executions of her own.” He supplies.

 “Our way of life here must seem so strange and strict to an outsider.” She dares. The defining pinnacle of English country society was its savage nature, after all.

 “I don’t see much of the society in Bavaria.” He explains. “I see to the welfare of tenants on my land. I go hunting every season to pass the time. I’m afraid I rarely indulge in attending parties and balls.” He tells.

 “A castle must be an incredible home.” She guesses.

 “Even so- it can be very limiting being confined to it in the cold dark winters. Very little company. Little to entertain. I found myself wanting a change of scene. I had looked for some land opportunity’s to enclose in over here. When Hellford became available. It seemed a good opportunity to travel. Sink my teeth into a new venture.” He smarts. Eyes darkly roaming over her face with that handsome smile.

 She nods. “I quite understand.” Erland clops alongside them in the misty morning sunshine. Snorting breaths silver and wispy still in the biting air.

 “What are the winters like in Bavaria?” She enquires.

 He smiles. “Beautiful. But bitter.” He explains. “The snow can be deep. As tall as me some days when it falls.” She smiles at his description.

 “The castle stands out of a tall pine forest. A lake and a river to the east. One of the biggest woods in the country. Full of wolves, boars, and deer. It’s quite a wilderness in its own right.”

 “Goodness- wolves. Isn’t that terribly dangerous?” She frets.

 Not as much as me. He thinks. Matter of fact, when he steps foot in that forest, he is the most bloodthirsty dangerous animal in it.

 “The beasts respect the boundary of my castle. I respect the forest is theirs. It’s a symbiotic relationship.” He tells her.

 “Surrounded by wolves. You must feel very at home here too, then.” She jokes.

 He laughs. “There’s something familiar I grant. Though the wolves back home don’t don lace caps and thrust all their daughters at me.”

 She laughs at his remark. And suddenly, she goes spinning off course. Her worn boots slipping on a sneaky patch of frost and ice. No grip to their soles in this devilish cold. A yelp leaves her mouth as she skids. Blood flashing flushing hot and terrible suddenly. The shock of slipping stabbing at her stomach.

 He acts quick. He lets go of Erland’s reins and steps that big form forwards and snatched one arm out to grab her. Slips back around her waist, cups the back of her hip, and yanks her tight to him to stop her falling.

 She gasps and trembles as her vision spins, to be quickly halted by a sheer wall of cold, dark clad muscle. She barely registers where she is now.

 Because she’s pressed right up into Lord Ren’s redoubtably firm chest. Her palms crushed flat on his lapels. His arm seizing her back and cupping her onto him to stop her slipping. She can feel under her coat how her breasts are crushed flat to him. Can feel his breathing heaving up and down, much like her own.

 A shaky gasp leaves her mouth as she looks up, peering past the peak of her bonnet with flaming cheeks. Realising that they are slanted very close together. His face is right there, and he’s gazing down at her.

 She’s in his arms. Buried into his chest. And it feels incredible. Such musculature and sheer masculine mass under her palms. Her head swims. He’s dizzying. Hypnotising.

 Eyes as dark as burnt-ember molasses flecked with gold, and his lips look so invitingly pink ripe and soft- she curses at herself for that treacherous thought and her blush rises more. His wool coat and cologne nearly smacks her in the nose as she almost collided into his pectorals.

 Kylo can hear her fluttering heartbeat. Like a racing preys pulse beating wild. Frail and fast, like a baby birds. A huge drift of her fragrance absolutely drowns him, pulls him under. Clary sage, French lavender and peppermint. Sweet and calming. Addictive. He wants to lean down and taste the salt of it off her neck...

 It seems an eternity passes before he speaks.

 “Are you hurt?” He asks. Making sure she didn’t turn one of her ankles. Or damage the bone

 “T-Thankyou. I’m, I’m well.” She gasps. “I’m so sorry- I” She explains moving her hands down off his chest. He nearly swept her up off her feet. Now only her tiptoes brush the icy ground. The only part of her barely rooted to earth. Lost in those eyes.

 Domineering, commanding, brutal, eyes. Eyes that had seen this world ten times over. But never gazed upon anything comparable to her-

 Erland brings them both back down to earth. Snorting and fussing. Swishing his tail and nudging his nose at his masters shoulder.

 Sense swims back through the fog of attraction and the heady bloom of lust. Kylo unleashes her back and her hip from his hold.

 Quite liking the feel of her he accidentally - and literally - caught underneath her coat. The plump of her thighs and the shapely flesh of her hip and her bottom. There’s doubtless a figure to rival Venus herself, under this shapeless coat and thin dress. She slowly drags her hands off his chest and steps back. Avoiding the ice beneath her toes. Her gloves rasp on his fine wool coat.  

 “You fell. Miss Ashton. No need to be sorry for such a thing.” He tells her.

 “You’ve a steady hand, Lord Ren.” She compliments. Thanking him further. He still held her basket in the arm that had not reached out to catch her. He looked as if he barely had to flex out an arm to catch her. Just twisted his body. His reflexes were sharp and cunning. As strong as he was.

 He reached out and retook Erland’s reins.

 They continue walking carefully along the little lane. For Westwell is just beyond the tree line now. It saddens her that she’ll be home soon.

 Back to her daily chores. Back to scrubbing curtains, and helping cook roll pastry and mediating the silly shouting screeching arguments that Posy and Flora have over who gets to take turns to wear their favourite bonnet

 She reflects how restoring it is to talk to someone so fully - without having to watch or guard her tongue. It’s even more enlightening to talk to someone such as him. Someone who, like her, feels like an outsider. Never fully fits in. And harbouring no desire too.

 She feels her heart sink, morbid mournful and grey settling in her ribs, when they come to the meagre gateway along the short drive to Westwell. The twin stone pillars signifying the gateway were old and crusted with frosted moss.

 Kylo calls Erland to halt. She pats the wonderful beasts strong shoulder in goodbye. He rubs the great velvet plain of black his forehead at her. Kylo untied her basket and handed it to her.

 “I’d have no hesitation in seeing you to the door directly. But I fear your mother might see fault with our being left unchaperoned.” He disclosed. Giving her back the groaning full wicker basket with a clever grin.

 She shivers when their hands brush. If she had any doubts in her attraction, that betraying little Judas of a tingle that thrashed her body, made her realise otherwise.

 She likes him-

 “Astute observation, your lordship. I Thankyou for your discretion.” She blushes. Hooking the baskets back on her arms. Adjusting the shawl where it had slipped down from her shoulders.

 She looks down into her basket, and smiles. “A token of gratitude.” She explains before handing over the still warmed bag of chestnuts across to him.

 He cradled them in his leather gloved hand. Appreciative of the gift. He rarely ate food. There wasn’t much need for it and it wasn’t the manna that’s sustained him. He had little joy in any human sustenance - apart from humans themselves.

 When he did eat food, it was red meat that was still rare, juicy, and dripping blood. And he only drank sharp deep red wine.

 He reaches over and took her hand. Once again dropping Erland’s reins. He took her dainty hand and brought it up and bows to kiss her palm.

 He’s tired of satin and calfskin under his lips. He rather wanted to grasp a taste of her skin. Soon.

 “Always a pleasure, Miss Ashton. I hope the experience of your company repeats itself shortly.” He compliments.

 She smiles, apples of her cheeks creasing dimples with her widened smile. She nods politely and curtseys. “Your Lordship.” She curtseys gently. Bonnet tipping forwards. Criminally covering that beautiful face of hers.

 She turns and he watches her walk up the pale lane to home. Sun striping through the trees onto her bleached linen white skirts. Bleached by sunshine. And softly scented of fresh cotton and French lavender.

 Miss Ashton is made up of good intentions and possesses a giving heart as pure as gold. Pure. That’s his little dove all over-

 He looks down in his hand and weighs the small bag of nuts she’d gifted him. He lifts it to his nose and inhales their scent. Buttery, sweet, burnt and acrid.

 He tips his eyes back up to watch her. Thought creases up his brow. He’ll never know how it is to have such a virtue as a kind heart.

 She was made up of honour and purity and softness. Doves feathers, lavender and rose petals. And he is made of cruelty. Of war and broken glass and shards of steel. He was made between ash and snow and a landscape soaking swimming festering in blood. 

There’s no kindness in him. No mercy. Barely any love in him either. 

 He cares little for humans. After he was turned. That’s just how he became. They became meaningless specs of nothing to him. She has no idea what he is- who he is- he’s sent entire scores and countries of men shrieking to their deaths and writhing in agony into hell, cursing his name on their lips.

 And here she was handing him this little harmless gift, like he wasn’t one of the most fearsome beasts put on this earth.

 She’s not far away when she turns back - just as he’s about to mount Erland to ride back to Hellford Park once more. He tucks her meaningful present into his coat pocket.

 “Erland... Is that a Bavarian name?” She turns and asks curiously. A kind frown on the lintels of her eyebrows. She tilts her head curiously. Her grey eyes glitter innocently off the sun like honey poured onto slate.

 She’s so innocent. And it strikes him so deeply right then. How much he admires that.

 He hoists himself into the saddle using the pommel. Feet slipping in the stirrups. Hips resting back onto the cantle behind him.

 “It is a Norse name.” He calls to her. Erland is whinnying excitedly. Stomping his hooves to get out to the open fields and get his blood pumping. Kylo can feel the excitement shivering through his stocky legs.

 “What does it mean?” She seeks.

 “In old Nordic tongue, I believe it means ‘Outsider.’” He tells her.

 She smiles. “Well. I trust you both know you have atleast one friend in this Hampshire county.” She smiles.

 “Good day, Lord Ren.” She beams brightly. She turns away and she’s already missing the gaze of those melting cocoa eyes appraising her warmly.

 Her skin still thrashes from the memory of his touch. All over her skin is alive with the memory of that strength of his. His chest under her hands she’s never felt the like- he was as cold and solid as marble. Some Greek god manifested out of carved stone and come to life.

 He turns Erland back onto the snowy road. Clicks his tongue and urges him to run with a sharp dig of his shoe into his side. He feels the ice and the wind sting his skin for all the ride home.

 He thinks about her parting gift and her touch against his body for the rest of the day - truly he does. It’s moved him.

 He hasn’t been moved so much by another being in all of his years.

   ~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

[glittering-snowfall]

Since I always seem to be “in the middle” about Frozen 2 (I have mixed feelings about it and sometimes I defend it and other times I critique it a whole lot), I’ve been thinking about Elsa’s characterization in F2 and what does and doesn’t work for me.

I know I’m an EA shipper and that colors my perspective. A part of me is always going to dislike the ending of F2 - although it’s not entirely shipping-based. I’m of the opinion that F2 made missteps in the Frohana dynamic and that the focus on characters’ individual personal journeys at the expense of working together did a disservice to the final film.

At the same time, I’m not against the ending of F2 on principle the way some of my friends are. This is going to be controversial, but I do see some potential in F2′s ending. And I think there are some ways it fits with Elsa’s character. (In the same breath, let me say that there are some ways I feel it doesn’t fit with Elsa’s character, but let me make my first point first.)

One of the good things I can see in the ending (and in Elsa’s personal journey across the film and her characterization therein) is that the journey ultimately allows Elsa to broaden her horizons. This seems like a good thing, especially for someone who was cooped up in a castle for years of her life in childhood without the ability to truly live. Another good thing might be (keep a pin in that “might be,” I’ll come back to it later) that it expands Elsa’s support network because now Elsa can have the Northuldra and the spirits around her - and so she can meet new people and expand her horizons that way. Again, I can see a lot of good in that, especially for someone like Elsa who was isolated for years of her life.

Here’s the thing though (and this is part the where I start getting critical of F2). F2 doesn’t really focus on Elsa expanding her support network. It never capitalizes on the idea that, hey, this young woman was isolated throughout her childhood and she deserves to have the ability to make connections with people. Frustratingly, F2 doesn’t focus that much on Elsa’s connections with the people who live in the area she eventually decides to call home. Outside of her brief conversations with Yelena and Honeymaren, the film barely shows Elsa interacting with the Northuldra. In fact, the film basically drops the Northuldra characters from the second half of the film. Yes, they are integral on a conceptual level for the plot because the plot hinges on the wrong that Arendelle did to the Northuldra, the developing Northuldra characters from the film’s first part vanish for a large chunk of the runtime - which, in my opinion, has negative consequences for the Northuldra as characters and for Elsa’s choice at the end of the film.

Since the film isn’t as focused on Elsa’s interactions with her new and old friends - on tangible people living in the world around her that she can bond and interact with - it puts its focus on Elsa’s magic, her connection with the spirits, and Fifth Spirit stuff - which was a mistake, in my opinion.

I’ve talked about this before on my other blog, but I fundamentally disagree with the idea we needed to know “the origin of Elsa’s powers.” In my opinion, that puts more focus on what Elsa is rather than who she is. Moreover, making Elsa’s powers a gift for Iduna externalizes something that worked beautifully as a metaphor for something unique that was internal to Elsa. The “gift” plot thread also introduces aspects of predestination to the narrative that the film really could have done without. And before someone jumps in and says, “But Elsa still has the free will to accept her place as one side of the bridge or not and it’s still her choice,” it’s a choice that is fundamentally muddied by the fact her life has been influenced before she was even born by sentient forces outside of her control. I know the world generally influences people, but we tend not to think of the world as having a Will. And even if we look at things from a religious perspective, God never interacts with us as directly as the spirits interact with Elsa, making the comparison between Elsa’s life and the lives of ordinary people influenced by worldly forces outside their control particularly murky.

Now, some friends of mine talk about Elsa making her home in Ahtohallan at the end of F2, while other friends of mine talk about Elsa making her home among the Northuldra. People have very strong opinions about this, but I’m going to toss something out there: both interpretations of the text are valid and that ambiguity is a problem. 

People who argue that Elsa’s home at the end of F2 is Ahtohallan... aren’t wrong, exactly. The film puts way more focus on Elsa connecting with Ahtohallan and the memories of the Northuldra than actually having her connect with the Northuldra. Like I said previously, the actual human Northuldra characters vanish, abruptly cutting off beautiful potential for character development. Moreover, Elsa’s profoundest declaration that she’s “home” comes at Ahtohallan - and there’s some evidence that the writers tossed around the idea of tying Ahtohallan in firmly with the concept of home.

Now, people who disagree with that reading will probably point out that, just because the writers tossed around that idea, doesn’t make it so in the finished film. Just because there are lines in deleted scenes (like Elsa’s declaration that she doesn’t know what the spirits want from her now, but she wants to be there when they do) that suggest the writers didn’t quite know what to do with Elsa and leaned too heavily on the magical destiny aspect, doesn’t mean the finished film totally reflects that.

I’d still argue there are vestiges of it in the finished film, though. We don’t see Elsa living among the Northuldra at the end. We see her standing outside the village instead of within it. We don’t see her riding with the Northuldra at the end, she just waves at them from a distance. But still, she does wave at them! That suggests a happy closeness towards them! She joins hands with Yelena and Honeymaren as she decides to stay, after all. She could indeed live in the village with them.

We just don’t know. It never comes up. I certainly want her to live in the village. I want her to connect more with her mother’s people and explore her culture. It’s a headcanon I find infinitely preferable to the headcanon that her home is the glacier.

But that’s the vexing thing. They are both headcanons - and there are enough details in the finished film that you could plausibly argue either way.

And while I do love the idea of Elsa bonding with the Northuldra in the film’s conclusion, that interpretation also unfortunately highlights the fact that we didn’t get to see that much of Elsa interacting with the Northuldra characters across the movie.

And that just makes me wish we got to see more of the Northuldra - for the Northuldra’s sake, and for Elsa’s. 

And all that kind of comes together to establish why the ending of F2 (at least as it pertains to Elsa) doesn’t exactly work for me.

The way I see it, you could fix this either by having Elsa not stay in the Forest at the end (because that conclusion doesn’t quite feel earned) or you could expand the Northuldra characters’ roles - maybe have Honeymaren and Ryder tag along on the adventure. Then we could see Elsa engage with them, learn more about them, maybe better set up her decision to stay at the end.

Both of those fixes work. And I know the EA shipper in me prefers the first option (and, even divorced from shipping, I enjoy the idea of the found family from the first film staying physically together; it’s a personal bias of mine.) But I also really, really would have loved to have seen more of the Northuldra and the expansion of their role because the Northuldra are pretty awesome.

Sorry, this was really long and rambly. I also know I usually write my rambly analysis posts from my other blog, but I wanted to talk more openly about how my being an EA shipper shapes my perspective. 

[nobodyfamousposts]

Felix July - Magic AU

A new AU unrelated to my others with Grumpy Wizard Felix.

@felixmonth

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom of wealth and great prosperity. But of course it was, for one of the leaders of this land was a noble of the Agreste household, Gabriel.

He was a stern lord, but not cruel. And while not necessarily loved, he was certainly well respected and admired by the people. So it was with great joy when he was married to Emilie in a tale the likes of which Cinderella would later be based on. Their home was a happy one, especially after she gave birth and Gabriel had an heir.

But all was not right with the boy. Whatever flaws Gabriel had were magnified in the child. Cold. Aloof. Withdrawn. Gloomy. He gave off a most unsettling aura that would often drive most sensible folk away.

Even worse, it soon became evident that the boy was…unnatural and capable of the worst sorts of sorcery. Things would break in his presence without being touched. Many would suddenly trip or be subjected to sudden injuries. Great works of art and manufacture would age and decay quickly. On one such occasion when his father required him to learn swordplay, the boy took offense and the metal rusted and turned to dust in his hands.

Everyone was fearful of him. All except the boy’s mother, who loved him dearly and was intent to see the best of him. Many begged the lord to send the possessed child away or otherwise end him to restore peace, but for the sake of his wife, he relented and showed the boy mercy.

A mercy he came to regret, as the time came that even the beloved mother was struck down by the boy’s power. For all of Gabriel’s efforts, she continued to waste away. He scoured the land, seeking witches and wizards, archaic tomes, ancient rituals, and any manner of healing power to attempt to revive her.

All to no effect.

But he was desperate. And no matter how many failures and how many doctors and healers told him there was nothing to be done, he refused to give up on her. So caught up in his attempts to restore his wife, the man had foolishly neglected to manage his own son.

At least, until the day the heir summoned a demon.

It was a ravenous creature. Insatiable and deranged. Under the boy’s command, it attacked his father and ruined a good half of the manor in which they lived. Servants fled in terror. The creature stalked the halls, delighting in the fear it caused to anyone unfortunate enough to cross it. None dared to approach the house. People sought for an answer, but nothing could be done. After all, Felix was the heir. What could they do?

Luckily, there was a second son who was less disastrously inclined and with a much sweeter and more manageable temperament. And who did not have a pet demon to sic on people he didn’t like. 

So the Lord Agreste promptly named young Adrien his heir and cast Felix out of the family.

Ousted from his noble position and banished from his home, the older son swore revenge and fled to another land with his demon, where he only grew in power and evil. Despite attempts to search for him and arrest him for his crimes and sorcery, he was nowhere to be found. Many knights were sent after him only to return in failure—if they returned at all. Much misfortune befell those whom encountered him.

Some say he opened a gateway to the Underworld where he is amassing an army of the undead. Some say he set up a lair within a volcano, guarded by dragons. Others will claim that he took over an innocent village and transformed them all into monstrosities. Then there was one person who said he started up a school somewhere.

Nobody could quite agree on just what happened to him, actually.

But everyone knew, yes, everyone knew! There was only destruction where he tread. Only danger in his home. Each day that passed, he only grew in skill and evil. All feared him. None with any sense dared to confront him and those that did would not get a chance to regret doing so.

Everyone knew that one day he would return and bring calamity upon them all.

Everyone knew that he would seek revenge against those who had cast him out.

And everyone knew that to this end, he had kidnapped the fair Marinette, a lady of great purity and healing magic.

Everyone that is, except for Felix himself.

“How did you get in my house?”

When Felix had woken up that morning, he knew immediately that something wasn’t right.

Mostly because he actually woke up of his own volition instead of due to being scratched by an annoyed and hungry demon or the sound of something being knocked off a shelf by said demon to get his attention. Plagg was rather petulant that way. It came with being a creature of destruction and ill fortune. As well as a demon. And one Felix had yet to figure out how to banish—though heaven knows he was trying.

Since the unfortunate circumstances of their initial meeting, the menace had been a thorn in his side, seeking any means to vex him. One of said means was waking him in the early hours of the morn to whine for food. And become rather destructive and impossible to ignore if food was not granted immediately thereafter.

The only time he didn’t bother Felix was if something else had his attention. Which was never a good thing.

So he sighed, put on his robes, and prepared himself for whatever headache was waiting for him.

Which happened to be a young lady in his kitchen. Clearly making something that smelled lovely and belonging in a bakery rather than his tower. Plagg, the little traitor, was cozying up to her quite easily.

The lady smiled, polite but clearly nervous.

“Hello! My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I came to request your teaching into the use of magic and sorcery—”

“One, I’m not a teacher. And two, that doesn’t explain how you got into my kitchen.”

“Oh, I let her in.” Plagg spoke up, appearing all too pleased from his spot next to her.

Felix’s eye twitched. “Why?”

“She smelled nice and had free food.”

Ah. There’s that headache.

“She’s a keeper, kid. Don’t send her away.”

“Quiet, demon.”

Because of course the demon would betray him and open him up to a potential threat for food. Plagg would deny it with silly claims that ‘she’s not really a threat’, but how would he even know when he’s stuffing his face and leaving Felix to deal with the aftermath.

It was Paris all over again.

“I’m sorry,” the lady—Marinette spoke up, noticing his mood. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You shouldn’t have been able to intrude at all.” He told her—not just a bit put out by the whole thing.

She blinked, surprised. “Really?”

“I made this place impossible to reach with that goal in mind, yes.”

That only seemed to confuse her more. “But…it wasn’t that hard to get here.”

Felix would be insulted, except that up until this point no one else had managed to reach the land around his Tower, much less enter. From her expression, the girl wasn’t bragging or trying to show off. She was truly surprised by his answer. So that meant she must have some skill and at least and no ego for him to have to deal with.

There was that at least.

Regardless, he still needed to know how a stranger made it into his home. Mostly so he could further improve his protections to prevent it from happening again.

“How did you get here?”

“Oh, well I asked for directions.”

That had to be a lie.

“Except that nobody has directions to get through the Lost Forest.”

“Really?”

“That’s why it’s called the ‘Lost Forest’. Who would you even get directions from?”

“Well, I asked the nice fairies—”

Felix blanched at that. “From forest fae?”

“They were quite kind.”

“They eat people.”

She coughed. “I’m sure that’s just a rumor.”

“The trees are literally made out of people they’ve led astray and fed to them.” He politely—in his personal opinion—avoided questioning how she DIDN’T notice the twisted horror of the trees in question. “Why would they help you?”

She shrugged. “I offered them gingerbread men and asked for directions to get here.”

He stared, surprised at that.

…Huh. So they had a weakness for sugar. Or perhaps treats in the shape of people. He would need to keep that in mind.

“And what about the Gorge?” He asked.

“I crossed the bridge.”

He blinked.

“The Gorge doesn’t have a bridge.”

She beamed at that, appearing quite proud. “It does now.”

He raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What do yo—”

“And then I saw the Tower and headed here! There were a number of holes and vines blocking the way. You really need to clean up your lawn, it was difficult to get past the pitfalls and thorns. Someone could get caught and injured that way!”

He stared.

“That would be because they are traps. That is what they are meant to do.”

She blushed at that realization. “Oh.”

He closed his eyes and rubbed his head. “And how did you get past the door?”

“I knocked?” She answered, questioningly as if it should have been obvious.

“And I answered!” Plagg cheerfully added.

…This was it then. All his work, completely undone by an overly nice and cheerful lady who would no doubt be the death of him. And no thanks to his sole ally—if the thing could even be called that.

Felix glowered down at the creature. “And you didn’t think to perhaps warn me? Or at least not let in a potential threat?”

Of course, the glower had no effect. The little demon was more than used to it by now, and had no doubt encountered worse before he had ever been summoned. And Felix knew this after all this time, but he tried—oh yes, he would still try.

Plagg just grinned cheekily up at him. “What would be the fun of that?”

“Fun isn’t supposed to be the priority here.”

“It should be. Hell knows you were a stick in the mud before you summoned me.”

Marinette gasped at the little creature in surprise.

“You’re the demon? But you’re so tiny!”

“That’s because he hasn’t fed me!” Plagg exclaimed, looking up at her pitifully so as to garner sympathy.

“You eat three times your weight in cheese on a daily basis.”

Plagg didn’t deny it. And of course, the damned thing was completely unashamed. “Yeah, but I could eat four.”

Felix simply rolled his eyes.

Another day then.

[generic-art-sideblog-name]

@lesbiannya …. I did a thing. Wanted to draw all this but I lost the motivation so I wrote some drabble instead. hope you like it

Log Date

Log date: today is the fifth of xxxxxx year xxxxxx It’s been about two days since I was flung into this realm by Aspheera. I’ve tried getting the mech up and running again to no avail. I’ve needed to use the staff scroll in order to move it and myself to a more secure location. I will continue to work on it so I can more easily navigate in this difficult terrain. I’ve yet to see any locals but maybe I can get help from somewhere.

Log date: xxxxxxxxx It’s been about a week and I think I almost have everything up and running there could be some... complications though. I will make a separate video explaining everything. I hope all goes well.

Log date:???? It’s hard to tell time here. My internal clock seems to be have knocked out of commission from the constant cold. The job with the mech worked, but there are still several crucial parts that seem to have stayed in the other realm. The others should have been here by now and I’m... getting a little nervous. I’m not sure I can find a way out of this without help of some kind.

Log date: Time feels faster here, or maybe slower??? There has been a blizzard the last few weeks or so. And it’s been hard to tell day from night, but that may just be boredom setting in. It’s been about 3 and a half weeks since I got here but I can no longer keep track of the dates. when this blizzard dies down I will attempt to leave this area and find human help, or at the very least more advanced intelligence. wouldn’t the ninja have figured out what happens by now? Perhaps they thought I had been destroyed like we had originally assumed. It appears I am on my own for now.

In other news there does appear less monstrous life here. Unfortunately the owl that wandered in here somehow got its claws on the staff. It appeared to have awakened some electrical element in the bird when it was touched (perhaps all avians have some low electrical element like the chicken?) It almost took off with it, if I hadn’t turned around for another minute it would have been gone. The staff is very powerful and definitely dangerous an animal hands, much less human. I think I will have to hold on to it from now on, but I will wrap it in cloth so I don’t get overcome by it’s power

Log date: That was a bad idea. It’s been two days since the owl and I can now still feel the staff’s pulse of power, I think it may even have a mind of its own. It hates being wrapped up, trapped and muffled to the world. I certainly know how that feels. I think I will leave it unwrapped for now. Besides it is only dangerous in unreliable and nefarious hands.

The blizzard still rages on

Log date: it’s been about two months since I got here. Why haven’t the others figured it out by now? Surely Aspheera was captured? Surely she would have gloated about what she had done to me, to hurt Wu as much as she could? I admit that anyone other then I wouldn’t last long in a place like this without some sort of village or homestead. They have to know what’s happened by now right? Why wouldn’t they have come for me?

What if they’re too afraid to come get me? But the ninja have dealt with other much more dangerous situations before! What if...

What if they just don’t care?

Log date: it’s been two weeks since my last update. The storm is still going but at least it keeps other animals from trying to get in here and taking my staff. My friends have still not come.

... What if they were just using me this whole time

No that can’t be right. I love them. They’re my family...

That’s only because I’m the master of ice and a Nindroid. They probably keep me around just to help them. I’ve always been different. Even when I first met them they didn’t like me much

No that can’t be right. We spent time together other then missions.

Only because they don’t know what to do with me otherwise. What if it’s been like this the whole time? When I first ran off and found the bounty they called me weird and a freak.

but didn’t they apologize?

That was probably only because Wu told them to, and he probably only told them to because he felt bad, or maybe because he thought I might be the green ninja.

... sigh, I need some rest. I will continue an update tomorrow

Log date: My friends are not coming. I have studied the data. They always just needed something from me or used me in some way. Even with Chen, they didn’t come for me, they came to make sure no one else could use me. Even Pixal hated me so much she secretly made a body just to get away from me. I think... even my own father... he only made me to aid his loneliness. Everyone just wants me for what I can give them....

I’m on my own

Log date: I’ve started experimenting with my staff. It can create do amazing things! I accidentally shot at a squirrel trying to steal it and froze it solid, but it was still alive with a heartbeat. However, I believe time is also slowed inside the ice encasing it, I’ve essentially cryogenically frozen it. I unfroze it after and shooed it out but this is amazing.

Log date: The storm has let up and I am going to attempt to get help from the locals. Even if my family never loved me I still would rather be in Ninjago then here. But... what if the people here are the same? What if they hate things just because they are different? My camouflage appears to be on the fritz now as well so I can’t even attempt to look human. But I still need help.... sigh. I think I will just risk it. No one here could possibly hurt me anyways.

Log date: I’ve been wandering around for a while now, I’ve yet to see any other intelligent life. Either this land is more expansive then I thought or there is no one else here. I wonder what the other s are doing now? I know I shouldn’t, I know it will only make me miss and resent them more, but it’s hard. I bet they are having the time of their lives now that they don’t have to worry about me. I wonder if I ever did something to them to make them hate me, or if they just don’t like that I’m not human. Ha, look I’ve gone and made myself cry. I should try to think about other things but there’s not much to distract me here in this desolate world. I will record again when there are updates

Log date: Today I found a man. It seems there are humans here, and they hate things that are different here as well. I ran into a man named Vex and he told me his horrible tale. Just because he couldn’t do what everyone else could he was disgraced, shamed and eventually kicked out of his home and hated by his former family. I was made to protect those who cannot protect themselves, even if it was just out of loneliness. So I am going to protect other outcasts like Vex an I. He says there is a government of some sort nearby that refused to help, so I will attempt to convince them

Log date: things did not... go well. I’m normally level headed but the general and his men were being very unreasonable! They refused to help Vex and attempted to kick us out. I’m sick of being treated like an outsider. I’m sick of not having any real friends, loyal friends, who like me for who I am and not what I can do. My staff seemed to have sensed this. It made it so the generals men would understand me, LISTEN to me. They are now loyal friends. Friends I KNOW would never abandon me like my old ones did. Because they were already an army they did not put up much of a mental fight, but I sense I will not be able to make everyone here understand and appreciate outsiders. Still, this doesn’t feel good.... it doesn’t feel wrong right now but it doesn’t feel quite right either. I am worried the staff may be clouding my vision. I have made Vex my adviser, to tell me what to do when I worry I have been looking through a rose tinted glass. He knows this world; he will make good decisions when I can’t.

Log date: it’s been about a year since I first came here I have spoken to the former leader, now one of my highest ranking friends. He insists his position is general, but it feels strange to have an army of any kind. They are all now just friends who understand me and those they used to view as different and inferior.

All of my new friends also seem to have cryogenic age slowing, so even though I do not age, my new family will not either! I have heard hundreds of stories in Ninjago of those looking for a way to gain immortality, and now anyone who is my friend will be granted it! I’m so glad to see how happy everyone is because of this!

I have attempted to befriend other villages but they all run in fear from me and the others. Though I still didn’t expect anything else, it still hurts that they run away just because of what I’m not. Vex suggests that I stay in the palace so I don’t need to see them fear me while the others try to make them see reason. I think this is for the best. I have also found it harder to move much lately, my ice seems to generate around me much quicker, but I can still dispel it easily if action is needed.

Some villages are more easily befriended, but others with stronger willpower just want to see what they want to see. Vex suggest I freeze these people and let them think about it. They can still sense time pass but do not age, in this sense I am giving those misbehaving a Time Out. If the people here insist on behaving like children that is how they should be treated. And... I don’t know why but I like the idea of them paying for what they have done. They SHOULD suffer for the consequences of what they have done. In a few years I shall release them and they will decide join my family, my new army of friends

Log date: about a year and 3 months since I arrived Vex has informed me that there is no way for me to get back home, no way to spread my new family back to Ninjago. To make my old family be loyal to me. There used to be a flower that could make a form of travelers’ tea, but it has all since died out, not to mention it wouldn’t be strong enough anyways. I think I am stuck here, but maybe that’s ok.

Log date: three years since I appeared here It’s... been hard to think lately. My.... my mind feels clouded often, as if in between dreams. My staff tells me what is the next thing to do and Vex has taken over most of my other more boring jobs...... I feel like I’m just going though the motions.... but... it’s doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

In other news Vex has told me that more and more people are misbehaving. I have created a dragon that can create my cryogenic ice so I don’t need to leave to do it, I’ve been so exhausted lately. It’s nice to just sit and think about my new family....

I... I don’t think I will be updating for a few... years? I think I’m just... going to let go for a while...

Log date: a few..... decades???? Since I got here The ninja are here

I CANNOT BELIVE THEM. Vex says they are here to take my new realm away from me. To free me from this world and my new family.

How DARE they come back after all this time, they are not my friends any longer, and I am not hurting anyone in their precious Ninjago. No one in this realm is using me and I am finally happy, why did they have to come NOW? According to Vex almost all villages have been changed, my world is almost perfect. I can stop soon and enjoy the fruits of my labor But then they show their faces. They have holed up in one of the harder villages to overtake, due to their mountainous barrier advantage. I hate them I hate them I HATE THEM.

They abandoned me, and I will not hesitate if we meet face to face